The Sun Sets over a Shallow Grave (3.5 Western)

[nanobot_swarm]

The sun begins to sink towards the horizon, filling the sky with an orange hue that gets all picturesque with the red sands and rocky formations of the great desert. Really it wouldn't be much of a surprise if some romantic painter were out here, frantically slashing the canvas with his brush to get the lighting before it's gone away. Well there were men out in this particular spot, but I can assure you they aint painters, hell I doubt they have any of the graces of civilization. Two men, one dressed in a shabby workmen's outfit, the other in an old, weathered duster, stand over a man caked in dirt and sweat, due to the fact he spent the last hour toiling to dig his own grave. Once enough dirt had been dug up, the shabby workman with whispy red hair, missing a tooth or three, and looked about one strong breeze away from being a skeleton move up and drew his gun.
He shouted at his victim, "You was pretty stupid Sam, thinkin ya could cheat me an' John here outta our gold. You thought you was sooooo smart that you could sneak away wit all the gold we stole fair n' square. Well you aint as smart as you thinks you is, and we aint as stupid as you thinks we is, right John?"
He turns to his friend in the duster, but gets no reply, only a glare. He's slightly disheartened that his friends does not wish to gloat over their former partner and crime, and thus returns attention to his victim.
"Well Sam, we don't like being betrayed and all, it hurts us deep y'know. And since we aint no redeemer types, you aint gettin no second chances. So, this is goodbye I guess. See ya in hell ya wormy bastard!"
Sam tries to beg, but his words are drowned out by the roar of the gun, six shots that leave six holes in the poor man.
The man turns around, about to laugh and gloat to his friend, only to find him standing right behind him, with a loaded gun and an evil grin. John says to him, "Y'know Willie, I did some thinking, and I think It'll be hard to split his share of the gold amongst both of us, so I figured that, since I aint the best at math, and I know you aint either, that I might as well just take the whole share for myself, easier to calculate that way. Besides, Sam dug that grave too deep, looks too empty, so I figured I'd fill it some more."
Before Willie can say anything in retort, he feels extreme pain in his torso as three shots tear apart his insides. Then comes a fall that has him land on Sam's body, and the last thing he feels before expiring is some dirt landing on his face, as the grave gets filled.
Business as usual in the west these days.
****
You all find yourselves sitting in some slightly uncomfortable chairs, in a very stuffy lobby, outside the office of a representative of the Barnum rail company. The elderly secretary is hunched over with glasses on, reading a dime novel about a detective or something; she has very little interest in you all, and only occasionally looks up to assure you that Mr. Riley will see you shortly about your security work, and that he is very busy with railroad business. So here you sit, all quiet like amongst some very strange strangers, all apparent applying for the same job. Might be a good time to introduce yourselves, or not, it's up to you.

[Hbgplayer]

Jerome softly clears his throat as he glances around the room. He raises an eyebrow as he studies the assortment of, characters, that he assumes is applying for the same position as he is. He reaches up and adjusts the well worn but cared for tan wide-brimmed felt hat that he is wearing again, for what has to be the tenth time in as many minutes. He then wipes his sweaty hands on the Beige woolen trench coat that he's wearing over his stiff leather vest and white cotton button down shirt. He's also wearing well worn leather trousers over cotton johns, and on his feet are sturdy leather boots good for hiking over rough country.
Jerome leans back and tries to relax and maybe steal a catnap, but after five minutes he gives-up; he's just too nervous around this many people-this is the first time he's ever been in a town even half this size, or been as idle waiting for another person. Finally unable to stand it, he turns to the person sitting next to him, who seems to be half-native; or at least he's never seen an elf with that rounded of ears or a human with ones that pointed.
"Howdy, the name's Jerome. You here fer the hiard gun position too?"

[bcool999]

Ethan sat in the room waiting for his next job to defend the wealth of a man who, more likely than not, made that wealth off the sweat and blood of other men, who by now have likely drank all their meager wages away. Ethan pulls out his tobacco and his paper and proceeded to roll a smoke. He took out a match and lit it, inhaling deep to get a good burn going before letting it out. He looks at the match as it burns down. These dang things cost a dollar each, but damn if they ain't convenient. He shakes his hand to put out the match and drops the remains on the floor and stomps it out. He looks around at the others in the room, a jittery elf, a grinning halfling, a Heironeous worshiping half-elf (if his eyes weren't failing him), a man who is looking at both elves like he expects them to start howling and clawing his throat out, and a girl who looks like she just stepped off the farm. Hope she knows how to use that 12 gauge... lotta fellers who wouldn't think twice about 'ungentlemanly' conduct this far out west. Ethan continued to enjoy his smoke unconcerned for the moment with making friends, though a subtle shift cleared his revolver from his brown leather duster. Just in case.

Apologies if I am making assumptions about other characters (even to the point of which characters are in the room :smalleek:) but I can (and will gladly) edit out anything that later becomes untrue or that you would have me change.

[Meeky]

It WOULD be fun to rob a train, wouldn't it?

The thought was clear in Annabelle's head, not that the halfling said it aloud. Of course, she was grinning like an idiot at the thought, but that's because it was a good thought; a heist on a big, moving... thing! That would be an experience. And wouldn't it be peachy to not actually be on board before the heist, but to ride alongside the train and use a grappling hook to latch on?!

Oh, yes. Cheshire was grinning all too much.

The thought didn't amuse her for very long, though. The halfling remembered that she was being paid a good, fair sum to protect this train business, not that she wasn't against pocketing a few valuables from the train while she was at it. Cheshire twisted about in her seat, looking at the others. Most of them looked like they were the sort to take this work pretty seriously. That is, they looked kind'a like stuffy downers... well, most of them.

One particular stick-in-the-mud was wearing a long leather coat and giving everyone a good, long look, like he was measuring them or something. Pshaw. He made this little gesture, showed off his nice, shiny gun - very shiny - as if reminding everyone politely that, yes, he was armed, and that yes, he could shoot someone.

Obviously, what he really wanted was to make friends; and even if he didn't, who gave a damn what HE wanted, anyway? Without a word, the leather armored halfling stood up and plopped down beside him.

"Cheery looking feller, aren't ya?" she says with the grin coming back to her face nice and wide. "I'm going to need a name for-- No, wait! You're Chuckles. Good to meet'cha, Chuckles!" The expression on her face practically screamed that the name wasn't going to be forgotten. "Name's Cheshire, just Cheshire. So, how valuable do you think the stuff people'll shoot at us to get is, anyway? Anything pocket-sized, maybe?"

Annabelle never was good at asking questions that didn't sound criminal.

[Norandil]

Henry’s not paying much attention to the others sitting in the room. That would be foolish to persume he’s the only one to fight the bandits, and sure as hell he wouldn’t even accept such a job. He doesn’t like the array of his possible co-workers, though. Dammit, a midget, an elf, some lass who probably just got lost and came here by an accident, and a few more. I really thought this Barnum Company is better than that... After that thought he just shrugs his shoulders and closes his eyes, trying to use some sleep. That’s not for me to decide who they are and what they can, I just wish there won’t be no knife in my back one morning!

After that brief estimation he just sits relaxed with his eyes closed, his ‘Betty’ leaning against his right leg. He can’t manage to sleep though, especially when the people beside him start babbling. He opens his eyes and turns his head to see the halfling standing in front of another guy and talking in a very irritating tone. Hells, that man definitely isn’t a Chuckles of any sort, and she should be more careful with what she says. People went down for smaller things already! But he actually says nothing, waiting for the man’s response.

[Pesimismrocks]

Rosella is fiddling with her holy symbol engaged in a silent prayer. A voice interrupts her She quickly glances up at the man next to her. uh, Yeah. A girls gotta eat. I'm down to the blanket. Names Rosella
She looks around nervously. She frowns when she sees the Halfling. Dammit, a flannel-mouth. Prob'bly full as a tick too. She weren't gonna keep this job long if he ratted her out to the redeemed. The others seemed to be thenusual guys she'd see ay every job although one man in particular caught her eye. He looked dangerous, as a friend or foe. She'd be keepin' an eye on the both of them.

[nanobot_swarm]

As the awkward introductions are made (or not), the office door is hurriedly opened by a one Mr. Riley. He is a short, balding man of thin build, with a nose so pointed you fear he could stab you with it. His clerk attire appears to have been discarded in favor of a simple white shirt and overalls; things that won't cause him to suffer from heat stroke in this oven of an office. He scans the room, examining the potential applicants; his face seems to contort to many expressions whilst doing so, with most being one of confusion, and the final being one of utter defeat.
He sighs and says to you all, "Well, previously we were only going to hire two of you, three at most, but after this telegraph I had received, it appears I will need all of you."
He stops, goes back into his office, taking out the message (you can see the fancy equipment and wires he has set up to give and receive such things) and a little bottle of liquid courage. He takes a swig and reads out the following:
"Porter Gang Struck Rail Line 17. Two Passengers Killed, Four Wounded. Cargo cars ransacked, items taken still being accounted for. Estimated cost $700. Three new guard positions open."
He takes another swig and continues, "This band of hooligans and societal parasites have cost this company hundreds of dollars in damages, and they've been taxing my sanity too! Every Pelor damned day they hit another rail line, and they not only are costing us money for damages, they're driving our customers away. Now I'm on my last legs here, so please, by the gods, please don't die like those last idiots. We need to get at least one train through, we need to beat back these dogs before they wreck another, or we'll lose even more business. So please, make sure rail line six makes it through okay, okay? You're either gonna get $50, or we'll pay for your funerals, just please do your damn jobs."
With that little rant, he walks back into his office, sits down at the desk, and holds up his face with his hands.

[Pesimismrocks]

Rosella frowns when he mentions Pelor. She thinks for a moment before smirking. Don't fear boss, no Owl hoots gonna get past my old blue. Don't suppose pay's up front ay?

[Hbgplayer]

Jerome's eyes widen at the cost of damages and the destruction the Porter Gang has cause. Whale, it seems that this be a bit more than Ah signed up fer, but Ah won't back down. Ah do wish to repeat her setiment though, could we be paid now?

[Norandil]

After this Riley ends talking, Henry looks at the other people around him, but says nothing again. He then gets up adjusting his leather jacket that twisted a bit while he was sitting, grabs his gun and moves inside the office of this little guy. He sits at the chair in front of thim, lays his shotgun down across this desk and stares at Mr. Riley. After a few seconds of estimation he hits the desk with an open hand to attract the man’s attention. ‘Okay, listen to me now, I don’t like to repeat. First, it is seventy bucks each. Second, spare me this bull****, ‘we will pay for your funeral if need be’. In such case, the money promised to the others is divided among the rest, be it because someone drops down, quits, whatever. You’re paying for a job done, so don’t try to fool us with such cheap tricks. I see five people here, and so you pay us three hundred and fifty bucks, end of discussion. Three, I was told I’m needed to eliminate the gang, now you tell me I just need to secure the train? I ain’t no babysitter, but since that means even easier money, so be it. Sitting with passengers and waiting will sure be easier than sniffing around looking for their hideout.’ After this monologue Henry gets up, takes his Betty and moves towards the exit. He stops after a few steps and turns again. ‘Och, and I’d rather not haggle with me if I were you. See, we can just walk away, and before, and if, you find a replacement, your precious cargo will be already lost. So, your call.’

If there is no chair in front of the desk, Henry takes one from the waiting room and puts there.

[Meeky]

Just to be clear, since the Dice Rolls thread has me a little perplexed: If we want to take an action requiring a roll, do we roll here or there?

Negotiations. Annabelle hated negotiations.

Cheshire was bad at negotiations, and what was more, she had no stomach for them whatsoever. It involved a lot haggling and wheeling and dealing and going on and on and back and forth about how this here shiny piece of junk is worth more than the pieces of junk your friend got, so you ought to get another couple pieces of junk or else you'll junk someone's junk, and all-in-all it just wasn't very exciting. In fact, it was the exact opposite of exciting. It was boring. Annie couldn't stomach boredom, either.

Back in the day, the Guild had always been kind enough to leave all negotiating to them, and when figuring out how much Cheshire ought to take from the pile of loot they usually figured out what amount she should take anyway. That seemed just alright with Annie, though she'd usually slip a little something extra into her pockets if it caught her attention. Like those ruby earrings... Loved those ruby earrings; bonny red and all. Whatever happened to 'em...?

Annabelle's mind drifted back to the present. Right. Negotiations. The man with the shotgun was talking it up real well with the nervous, probably-the-boss chap, and that was good and all, but...

...but she hadn't been paying a lick of attention.

"What did you say we was getting paid? If it's more'n twenty-five, I'm shaking on it. Oh, and can we partake in whatsomes drinks are usually aboard those train for passengers? I could use some champagne!"

Annie didn't even know what champagne was. She just wanted to be rich, and rich people seemed to drink a lot of it.

[Hbgplayer]

Jerome raises an eyebrow when the man demands $70 for each of them, but refrains from saying anything. Well, that would certainly be nice to have an extra 20, but I sure hope Mr. What's-his-face doesn't call the other guy's bluff. he thinks to himself.

[nanobot_swarm]

Mr. Riley is not amused at all by what he hears from the group, he gets pretty pissed actually. He replies with, "Now look here, the ad we put out said the pay would be $50 a person. This is how much the company has authorized to pay for a job done, I can't change that without wasting time. That's almost a month's wage for most honest folks, and you're hollarin for more? I can't give you more! I don't have time to deal with a bureaucracy that probably don't have much faith in hired strangers after the last bunch got shot. You want to convince the suits back east to pay you more? You do a damn fine job, prove you're actually worth $70, rather than try an' pick a fight with a middle manager over it."
He looks at the others, "To address your questions, I can offer you ten dollars up front, as an incentive, you'll get the rest if you actually complete the job. And yes, you can try the champagne."

[Norandil]

Henry snorts, not amused as well. ‘Come now, 50$ were for some dumb mooks that got themselves killed. Now, you have a proffessional, and yes I’m talking about myself. And when I say I will take care of this problem, I won’t go talk to this Porter Gang and tell ‘em they should leave us alone, because deep in their sweet hearts they’re good and symphatetic. No, I will take my Betty and end this once and for all, so you get more than just one train through. And I am a reasonable man, just like you. I don’t want this money now, I just inform you what’s going on and you’ve got plenty of time to convince your superiors. And you say that’s nearly a month’s wage for honest folks? See, you don’t hire no maids or teachers to do this job, so your argument is invalid.’ He then turns to the others, grabs his backpack from the ground and, with his shotgun on a shoulder, walks towards the exit. ‘Let’s get going, people! We’ve got a job to do.’

[Hbgplayer]

Alright, I undarstand yer plight. Ye can't offer us any more money in total, from har, anyway. So, how about ye give us $15 upfront, and I'll call it a deal. Jerome tries to reason with Mr. Riley
Diplomacy check in dice thread.

[nanobot_swarm]

(Nat 20 to start, nice, that's either a good sign, or a really ill omen)

Well, it appears that your little speech had put a wear on old Mr. Riley, and Jerome's just infectiously charismatic words seem to weasel their way into his brain, despite how simple they are. He sighs and opens a little lockbox containing the starting pay, counting it out in little bundles of fifteen that he hands to each of you. He says, "Here, what you said makes sense, so take a little extra for motivation. Though I swear, if you don't show up, I'll hunt you down myself!" Then he turns to Henry and replies, "Look, you go and exterminate that Porter gang, and I'll make sure you get some $70, and a permanent position in the company. Deal?" He says this last bit whilst holding out a hand to shake.

[Hbgplayer]

Jerome blinks in surprise that his argument actually worked; so far in civilization he hasn't been much of a people person. He then reached forward, grabbed one of the stacks of cash, and shook Riley's hand, whether it was offered to him or not. "What time does the train leave?"

[Norandil]

Seeing everybody still linger inside and hearing the official still talking, Henry returns from the threshold of the room. When the guy behind the desk offers him the new deal, he shakes his hand (after Jerome lets it go, that is) and says with a small, wry smile. ‘See, that wasn’t that difficult. And you won’t have to hunt us down for this pocket money, because I’m not taking it. I haven’t done anything yet, I’ll just come back for full wage when I’m finished with the job.’ After that he puts the money Mr Riley tried to give him back on the desk and takes a step back, leaning against the wall and waiting for the others.

[bcool999]

Keeping silent throughout this 'negotiation' Ethan shakes his head as the manager caves not once but twice to the demands of his new coworkers. Things must be worse than he is lettin on if he will go against his superiors like that. Glad for the extra money though. Ethan takes his money, tips his hat to his new employer, and follows Mr. Sunshine and Betty out of the office. On the way out, he says around his almost done cigarette, "M'name is Ethan and I guess we'll all be working together for a spell so lets get along before we shoot each other. As for you, miss Cheshire, I would keep my hands to myself if I were you because I will have my eyes on you." With that Ethan takes one last puff on his cigarette then spits out the rest and stomps it out.

[Meeky]

"'Let's get along,'" repeats the halfling in a mocking sort of manner, huffing and looking away from the group. "'And I'm keeping my eye on YOU.'" She snickers, then waves up at Mr. Riley. "Well, this is more than fair; I'll be right on yon' train when the time comes and I'll give your bandits a reason not to come back. 'Course, they might be too dead to remember that, poor buggers." She flashes a grin, then starts on out the room after the others. She wastes no time in catching up to them.

"So, what? Is that that? No trading names, no planning, no ignoring the plan?" The halfling flips through her small bundle of money, amusing herself thoroughly. "And what'cha gonna buy with your pay? I was thinking of one'a those fancy fans, like rich ladies use to fan themselves and what-so. Oh, and an umbrella, and maybe a spring-knife that pops out'a the top of the umbrella..."

[nanobot_swarm]

Mr. Riley nods, and takes back Henry's portion to put back in the box. He then answers Jerome's question with, "The train arrives at noontime, and leaves at 12:30 sharp, don't be late." With that he relaxes back into his desk chair and awaits you to ask more questions, or leaves, preferably the latter from his tired expression.
***
Currently it is 10am, so you have two hours or so to mosey about town, or talk amongst yourselves and get to know each other. This little town is named Westgate (The Rail Company thought the name fit well), and acts as the last little haven of civilization between the East and West. There's a small military presence here, hence why such a high value target remains untouched by raiders and natives, so don't cause too much trouble lest the doughboys use you for target practice. As far as you know there is a fairly well stocked general store, a gunsmith, a saloon, and various other shops that cater to more specific needs of folks passing through.

[Norandil]

'I'm Henry, and this is Betty' He points at his shotgun. 'Okay company, introductions done, now whatever you need to do, I don't really want to know what it is. I'm going for a drink now, so you know where to find me. Other than that, just be on time. Got it?' He stays quiet for a few heartbeats, then moves down the street looking for a saloon.

[Hbgplayer]

Jerome raises his eyebrows with the introduction from Henry. "Good to meet ye, my name is Jerome, and my gun don't have no name," he says as he motions to the inner pocket of his coat that his revolver is sitting in.
With that, he scans the store fronts, looking for a likely place to purchase a decent pocket watch, and another dozen or so rounds of ammunition.
The ammunition purchase is just to bring it up to what I have on my CS. He's also looking to buy a $20-25 pocket watch.

[Pesimismrocks]

She scowls at Henry as he walks away. Rosella she says to the Halfling as the others leave. She put on a friendly smile and tips her hat. Gotta at least give the fella a chance. Short folk can be trusted right? She points her thumb at Henry and smirks. Well ain't he all beer 'n' skittles

[nanobot_swarm]

Henry:
If you choose to head out and cease talking with the others, you'll wander about down mainstreet till the nice old saloon catches your eye; it's pretty close to the train station itself, a little net to quickly catch customers. The place is simply titled "Brown's" and has a few practitioners of the oldest profession standing about in gaudy outfits, they beckon for your business with little winks and seductive smiles. Through the doors you see a currently unoccupied piano and about a dozen tables or so, most are empty, probably thanks to the decrease in business the porter gang has caused. You do however see a group of three soldiers having a jolly time drinking round one, and two tables of townsfolk and rail-workers playing cards and betting their meager wages for fun. The proprietor of this fine establishment is a man with black hair so greasy, it's in danger of catching fire at even the hint of a spark, and behind him is a fairly impressive assortment of alcoholic beverages to numb the senses and dull the machinery of thought.
***
Jerome:
Finding bullets aint no problem, since along the storefronts you find a gunsmith, with a giant sign on his building creatively titled "Gunsmith." The owner's a stern dwarf of some age, he is carefully surveying his merchandise for any flaws that may hamper the performance of his pieces.
On the end of a pocket watch, your eyes are drawn towards a strange little carriage with "Stanley's Showcase" pained on the side, with the eponymous Stanley dresses like a well-off man back east, in a fancy brown suit with brown bowler hat, and a fashionable beard of kept neatly trimmed. He is just setting up shop at the moment, probably waiting for the right moment to draw a crowd to sell a wonder cure too, and from what you can glance of his wares, he of all people would definitely have one.

[bcool999]

Ethan decides to go ahead and follow Henry to the Saloon. Once inside, he looks around and takes an empty seat at the card game the rail workers are playing. "Hope ya don't mind me killing some time for an hour before the train heads out?" He spends the next hour gambling with $5. If he wins too much (cleans them out), he will buy a round of drinks for the table. Otherwise, he will just thank them for the game and leave.

[Hbgplayer]

Jerome walks over to the cart and speaks to the man staffing it. "Ah presume that yer Stanley, then? Ah'm in need of a dependable, but affordable pocket watch. It don't need to be nothin' fancy, it just needs to work through a little dust and water."

[Norandil]

Henry pushes through the women standing near the enterance without any visible interest. He doesn't even stop when one of them stands in his way, pushing her to one side without a word. He stops at the threshold of the saloon, adjusting his eyes to the illumination there, then he approaches a counter and sits in a high, well worn chair next to it. Lying his gun on the counter for easier access 'just in case', he skims the bottles behind the owner. He frowns every now and then, just as if the beverages could bring some bad memories, or maybe he just dislikes them in particular. Finally his gaze sets upon a dusty bottle on one of the lower shelves; a bottle that has one thing in common with Henry, and that is the country of their origin, far to the east.

'A glass of that Carthian Rye, no extra water. And don't you think I won't tell the difference. Too much of that filth got down my throat in the past.' He says while rummaging in his pocket. After a while he puts some small change on the counter. 'And tell me this - why do you keep girls just outside, but you don't bother to bring a bit of music here? Or is this piano here only for evenings? And you can keep that bottle nearby, you know.'

[nanobot_swarm]

Ethan:
Needless to say lady luck is not quite on your side, and you find yourself one dollar poorer than you were before the game. However, you have much more luck on your little information gathering on the Porter gang. Their leader is Albert Porter, used to be a rail worker like the rest of them, till he got it in his head that he could make more money robbing the trains rather than making sure they ran properly. He found himself a bunch of thugs with morals looser than the lips of the town gossip, and they've been robbing the rail lines for past few months now. The reason no one has managed to hunt him down is just due to how big this stretch of territory is, and he knows it better than most, so hunting him down has proven difficult. As for the rail company itself, the workers opinions range from "It's okay" to "A bunch of desk-jockeys who have no idea how the world works."

Jerome:
Stanley takes a deep breath, then turns giving you a big toothy grin. He says in an authoritative voice, "Well of course good sir, pocket watches are an art-form, truly the pinnacle of our enlightened society to create a time-keeping device one can fit in the palm of one's own hand. Being a connoisseur of the arts, I of course have plenty, many of them finely crafted by master watchmakers from the old-kingdoms. For instance, take a look at this one, note the detailed etching of the Stag on the back, a dedication to Obad-Hai. But I can tell you're an enlightened man, you favor practicality and functionality over pretty looks, and I have the watch for you. Look here at this brass beauty, smooth, tough as dragon's hide, and even has a little cover to protect it from the elements. And this fine beauty can be yours for just ten dollars. What do you say my good man?"

Henry:
The bartender cracks a wry smile, gets you a nice and clean glass, and fills it up with the nice bottle of Carthian Rye you saw amongst his library of booze. As you drink it up and feel the burn slide down your throat he answers, "Well stranger we keep the girls out all day since there's always someone looking to have a good time in the morning and early afternoon, usually a faithless husband, it's just economically viable really. As for the music, we save that for the evening when the working folks all come in for the night to wash away the sweat of a hard day's toil, we can sweeten up their ears while they drink away their problems."
He then produces a rag to polish the counter-top and whilst making it shine for the umpteenth time, asks, "So my inquisitive friend, what brings you to town? Hoping to find work in the land of opportunity (said with mild sarcasm), or are you trying to forge yourself a new life in this place, start fresh and all?"

[Norandil]

Hearing the explanation, he nods, with a bit of disgust. Hookers... That's what in demand. Pathetic. He keeps sipping his drink ignoring his surroundings, deep in the bitter memories, when he hears the bartender talking again. After some time he realises the man asked him a question. Looking askance, Henry snorts. 'New life... Yes, but fourteen years ago. Now, I just want to send a bullet through some heads.' He puts his glass on the counter with a loud knock. 'Now tell me what do you know about Porter Gang. And pour me one more.'

[nanobot_swarm]

Henry
The bartender nods along to your story, and does indeed pour you another drink. He respectfully declines asking any questions, figuring that prodding for an answer would probably just get a snarl in return. But he does answer your question with:
"Ah you gunning for ol' Albert Porter? He used to work here on these rails, though from what I heard, he was a lazy son of a bitch. I didn't care too much though, he always was a well paying patron of my little establishment, he seemed to quite enjoy the company of the girls if you catch my meaning. Then the stupid ****head decided to rob trains for a living, and become the most wanted man in the county. And do you know why? Because he strangled one of my girls whilst piss drunk, and wasn't man enough to accept the consequences. Now he's just been ruining everyone's business because no one wants to come out west if they are just going to get shot on the way there." He gets close to your face and says in quite a serious tone," If you catch that sonuvabitch, make em suffer before you blow his meager brains out. Nellie was a good girl, she didn't deserve that."
He kind of just stands there shaking for a moment, and then takes a shot of his own Rye, bad memories had returned, they needed to go away somehow.