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The moonlight reflected off the burnished tin roofs of the shanty town creating an eerie shine to the desert and the hill surrounding the town illuminating the two riders that sat astride their horses observing the slumbering town. They were wrapped in dark clothing and they had small bundles on the back of their horses. No sound was present except for the huffing of their horses in the cold desert air. To a normal person they might appear as two of Lucifer's avenging dark angels set to steal souls in the darkness. If Mr. Gout, the owner of the town's only store had been awake he would have said that they were traveling visitors from a village nearby because they traveled light and obviously weren't too bright, what with the traveling at night and all. If old man Tom Girdle the town drunk had been awake he probably would have looked at their horses a little closer and seen the signs of a horse having been ridden fast and hard, then he would have looked at their clothing and seen it was of finer cloth then what villagers normally wore. Then Old Man Girdle would have bought himself another bottle and found a hiding place to drown his sorrows. But neither of them was awake, one fast asleep in his feather bed by his round, plump wife and the other passed out in a garbage heap at the back of the bar. So it was that no one saw the two dark figures enter the town and many would never know they had been there tomorrow.
The town was appropriately named a shanty town for a reason, its buildings were old and decrepitated, many looked hastily erected and many looked past the fixing stage. The streets were dark, the street lamps long ago having been either broken or stolen. The cobblestones had shared the same fate leaving the road muddy and in need of repair. The two men rode past the shuttered buildings until they got to the only inn in town where a single candle burning in the window indicated that the Ducly inn was indeed alive and not dead like so many other buildings. With a pain grown from sitting too many hours in the saddle the first rider stepped down from his horse and walk stiff legged up to the Inn's door. With an anger borne of muddy roads, and too few hours without a drink he pounded upon the door with a gloved fist.
"We ain't open." A frightened voice echoed from inside.
"I don't care if you're not open! I'm hungry, I'm dirty, and by all the gods above I want a bed!" The man in black growled.
"You got any money?" the squeaky voice asked tentatively.
"Yeah, I got quid." The man said wearily holding up a small leather bag and shaking it so that the coins inside could be clearly heard.
"It will be six quid up front and two more if you want clean linens." The voice shouted back with a quiver of excitement in it.
The man in the back who was holding the horses and glancing wearily around the town for hidden dangers choked and spluttered at the outrageous price but quickly shut his mouth after a glare from the man in black. Suddenly the sound of many bolts being undone could be heard from the other side and with a loud creak the door was opened to display the innkeeper holding a dripping wax candle in his hand. The man was not the best looking of innkeepers, his hair hung in greasy, gray clumps around his head and his face sported a crooked nose. His skin was unwashed, red, and cracking, and when he offered the two men a smile he revealed a mouthful of black and rotting teeth. The two men exchanged meaningful glances, but both knew this was the only inn in town so with twin sighs they stepped through the doors leaving their horses tied up to the rotting post outside.
"Your money, good gentlemen?" The innkeeper stated holding out a dirty, tobacco stained hand.
"Six quid for a room, two quid for clean linen, and I'll throw in three more if you have a boy take care of our mounts, and fire up your kitchen and give us a decent meal." The man in black stated carefully laying the eleven quid in the innkeeper's outstretched dirty hand.
"Aye, Mister, right away." The innkeeper said squabbling to catch all of the coins and bow at the same time.
With that he hurried over to a stained and scratched door and pounded on it shouting at the cook within to wake her lazy self up. He then hobbled over to the fire dying at the end of the common room in which they had entered and stirred at the dying ashes with a stick and added a piece of what looked like might once have been a chair leg to the fire pit. Almost immediately the men at the door could feel a bit of heat in the air and their cold muscles started to cramp in protest. When the innkeeper was done stroking the fire he shuffled over to a previously not noticed pile of dirty straw in the corner farthest away from the fire. Once there he nudged the pile and when he received no response he gave it a vicious kick. This resulted in a dirty, dark haired teenager emerging from the pile with a sharp yelp and rubbing his side where the kick had obviously landed. The taller of the two strangers, the one who had previously been holding the horses gave a low feral growl in his throat and the sound of a knife being drawn filled the air.
"It's not nice to kick children, the last man that did that in front of me lost his leg." He growled while moving forward. The shorter of the two strangers threw an arm up blocking his path.
"I think our innkeeper friend has learned his lesson, don't you think Buck?" He stated calmly while removing his hood and fixing the innkeeper with a deadly glare.
"I.I'm, I'm sorry, won't happen again, mistake, yes, big mistake." the innkeeper stuttered out in fear.
"It better not because if it does you and my sword will be close friends, if you know what I mean." Buck stated fiercely
The teen looked on from the corner with wide eyes and he flinched when Buck looked his way.
"It's all right lad, I don't think the old man will be kicking you for some while, tell you what outside are two lugs that like to call themselves horses. You bring them in, unsaddle them, and feed them, and I think I have a silver sickle around here somewhere that has your name on it."
"Aye, sir, right away." He stated grinning and pushing his too long bangs off of his forehead. He then practically ran outside where Buck could hear him quietly murmuring to the horses.
"Innkeeper, how about that food you promised us?" The shorter of the two men asked, startling the innkeeper out of the trance he seemed to have gone into.
"What? Oh, right the food, right, right away." With that said he squabbled away to the kitchen where they could hear him banging on pots, shouting insults, and generally just getting in the cooks way.
The moonlight reflected off the burnished tin roofs of the shanty town creating an eerie shine to the desert and the hill surrounding the town illuminating the two riders that sat astride their horses observing the slumbering town. They were wrapped in dark clothing and they had small bundles on the back of their horses. No sound was present except for the huffing of their horses in the cold desert air. To a normal person they might appear as two of Lucifer's avenging dark angels set to steal souls in the darkness. If Mr. Gout, the owner of the town's only store had been awake he would have said that they were traveling visitors from a village nearby because they traveled light and obviously weren't too bright, what with the traveling at night and all. If old man Tom Girdle the town drunk had been awake he probably would have looked at their horses a little closer and seen the signs of a horse having been ridden fast and hard, then he would have looked at their clothing and seen it was of finer cloth then what villagers normally wore. Then Old Man Girdle would have bought himself another bottle and found a hiding place to drown his sorrows. But neither of them was awake, one fast asleep in his feather bed by his round, plump wife and the other passed out in a garbage heap at the back of the bar. So it was that no one saw the two dark figures enter the town and many would never know they had been there tomorrow.
The town was appropriately named a shanty town for a reason, its buildings were old and decrepitated, many looked hastily erected and many looked past the fixing stage. The streets were dark, the street lamps long ago having been either broken or stolen. The cobblestones had shared the same fate leaving the road muddy and in need of repair. The two men rode past the shuttered buildings until they got to the only inn in town where a single candle burning in the window indicated that the Ducly inn was indeed alive and not dead like so many other buildings. With a pain grown from sitting too many hours in the saddle the first rider stepped down from his horse and walk stiff legged up to the Inn's door. With an anger borne of muddy roads, and too few hours without a drink he pounded upon the door with a gloved fist.
"We ain't open." A frightened voice echoed from inside.
"I don't care if you're not open! I'm hungry, I'm dirty, and by all the gods above I want a bed!" The man in black growled.
"You got any money?" the squeaky voice asked tentatively.
"Yeah, I got quid." The man said wearily holding up a small leather bag and shaking it so that the coins inside could be clearly heard.
"It will be six quid up front and two more if you want clean linens." The voice shouted back with a quiver of excitement in it.
The man in the back who was holding the horses and glancing wearily around the town for hidden dangers choked and spluttered at the outrageous price but quickly shut his mouth after a glare from the man in black. Suddenly the sound of many bolts being undone could be heard from the other side and with a loud creak the door was opened to display the innkeeper holding a dripping wax candle in his hand. The man was not the best looking of innkeepers, his hair hung in greasy, gray clumps around his head and his face sported a crooked nose. His skin was unwashed, red, and cracking, and when he offered the two men a smile he revealed a mouthful of black and rotting teeth. The two men exchanged meaningful glances, but both knew this was the only inn in town so with twin sighs they stepped through the doors leaving their horses tied up to the rotting post outside.
"Your money, good gentlemen?" The innkeeper stated holding out a dirty, tobacco stained hand.
"Six quid for a room, two quid for clean linen, and I'll throw in three more if you have a boy take care of our mounts, and fire up your kitchen and give us a decent meal." The man in black stated carefully laying the eleven quid in the innkeeper's outstretched dirty hand.
"Aye, Mister, right away." The innkeeper said squabbling to catch all of the coins and bow at the same time.
With that he hurried over to a stained and scratched door and pounded on it shouting at the cook within to wake her lazy self up. He then hobbled over to the fire dying at the end of the common room in which they had entered and stirred at the dying ashes with a stick and added a piece of what looked like might once have been a chair leg to the fire pit. Almost immediately the men at the door could feel a bit of heat in the air and their cold muscles started to cramp in protest. When the innkeeper was done stroking the fire he shuffled over to a previously not noticed pile of dirty straw in the corner farthest away from the fire. Once there he nudged the pile and when he received no response he gave it a vicious kick. This resulted in a dirty, dark haired teenager emerging from the pile with a sharp yelp and rubbing his side where the kick had obviously landed. The taller of the two strangers, the one who had previously been holding the horses gave a low feral growl in his throat and the sound of a knife being drawn filled the air.
"It's not nice to kick children, the last man that did that in front of me lost his leg." He growled while moving forward. The shorter of the two strangers threw an arm up blocking his path.
"I think our innkeeper friend has learned his lesson, don't you think Buck?" He stated calmly while removing his hood and fixing the innkeeper with a deadly glare.
"I.I'm, I'm sorry, won't happen again, mistake, yes, big mistake." the innkeeper stuttered out in fear.
"It better not because if it does you and my sword will be close friends, if you know what I mean." Buck stated fiercely
The teen looked on from the corner with wide eyes and he flinched when Buck looked his way.
"It's all right lad, I don't think the old man will be kicking you for some while, tell you what outside are two lugs that like to call themselves horses. You bring them in, unsaddle them, and feed them, and I think I have a silver sickle around here somewhere that has your name on it."
"Aye, sir, right away." He stated grinning and pushing his too long bangs off of his forehead. He then practically ran outside where Buck could hear him quietly murmuring to the horses.
"Innkeeper, how about that food you promised us?" The shorter of the two men asked, startling the innkeeper out of the trance he seemed to have gone into.
"What? Oh, right the food, right, right away." With that said he squabbled away to the kitchen where they could hear him banging on pots, shouting insults, and generally just getting in the cooks way.