Lay of the Land (Open)

[Dusty Dawson]

She had finally made it. The city of Venus certainly did have a lot to offer. But, rather than go to some of the more elegant sections of the city, Dusty wanted to travel around Night's Doorstep. It was the dirty side of Venus...but then again, no city was perfect. Still, Venus was in much better shape than any of the ones back in the Golden Canyon.

What Dusty needed, was a reminder. A reminder of why she left and a reminder of what she was going to be doing. If there was anyone who needed her methods of help, it would be the residents of Night's Doorstep.

It was quite apparent that she was a foreigner. Dusty's outfit was not something many people tended to wear. Her hat was tucked low, shading her eyes and keeping the light blue orbs from view. The long, dark, duster was barely being kept off the street as her boots clicked along. Her loyal, yet apathetic, horse Watson had been hitched up at a stable when she entered. After all, Dusty didn't want to draw TOO much attention to herself.

Spotting a tavern, Dusty ducked in and saddled up to the bar. It seemed like the right place to stick around and get a good feel for what was happening in the city. Taverns tended to be good places for information. Brothels, too...but Dusty was more inclined to go where drinks would invariably be cheaper. Not to mention a bit more...hygienic. Barely.

[Yuzuki Isawa]

"Ale, ten bottles." A simple statement, not a word wasted.

The bar-owner eyed the unsightly swordsman, noting the serrated sleeves and faded colors of her kimono. "That would be two silvers and fifty coppers, no credits, o' course." He said in almost a sneer, certain that the rundown samurai wouldn't be able to produce such a sum.

Wordlessly, Yuzuki produced a small coin purse from her sleeve and pulled out three silvers. She laid the coins down on the counter, chin downcast, bangs hiding her face.

The purse jingled slightly as she returned it to her sleeve. The purse was nearly full. If the rest of its contents were also silvers, then there bound to be more than a couple hundreds worth in that purse.

The bar-owner eyed the purse greedily and grabbed the coins on the counter with fat, oily fingers. "Whacha waiting for? Serve the damn customer." He yelled at a maid, who hurriedly scurried to the backroom.

Yuzuki took a seat, seemingly oblivious to her dirty surroundings. She sat, rock-still, waiting patiently for her drink.

Others, however, were more than eager to make their moves.

"Heya there, little laddy, wadda ya say that ya share some of 'em silvers 'ere with a fellow traveler?" A beefy male, stinking of alcohol, approached her table. His meaty hand - nearly twice the size of Yuzuki's, scratched his belly innocently, but not all failing to backup his unvoiced threat.

Yuzuki looked up at him with a blank face, and looked down again.

"Well? What says ye?" The rather large and imposing drunkard asked again, this time in a notably harsher tone. The rest of the tavern, if they haven't already, tuned toward the source of the commotion. They seized up the significantly smaller frame of Yuzuki's and compared it to that of the male, and immediately deemed the girl no match for the drunkard.

Still, Yuzuki made no motion to reply.

"Why ya little slut!" He railed back his meaty fist, fully intending on taking the coins by force. And the samurai, arms crossed over her chest, made no motion to either unsheathe her sword or move out of her seat. The onlookers held their breath.

[Dusty Dawson]

Drunkards, apparently, were the main ingredient. Of course, this was a tavern...and Night's Doorstep...to say that she was not surprised would be quite the understatement. It would seem that poor areas were always the same, no matter what country.

A fellow foreigner made her entrance and a bit of a show. Dusty shook her head. Flashing around that kind of money was just asking for trouble. And sure enough, it caught the attention of a rather large and intoxicated local.

Like most of the patrons, Dusty was focused on the two. While most had written off the kimono-clad swordsman, Dusty took a second look over. She had a sharp eye for fighters...and this woman looked more than capable.

And that led to quite the conundrum, for the ex-soldier. While she was fairly sure that the newcomer was capable, she just hated the idea of sitting by when she knew she could help.

"Ah....hell....." she grumbled and pushed herself to her feet. "Now look....there ain't no reason to tal--"

The large fellow, apparently, was ready to punch...and as Dusty was entering the fray to try and let cooler heads prevail, the red-head caught the punch right on the chin. It was an impressive amount of force that sent her spiraling into her fellow foreigner.

[Yuzuki Isawa]

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the railed back fist, but still she sat. Approximate damage: a bruise. There was no point dodging then.

Judging from her attacker's physique, he's got quite a punch, but, with that nasty drinking habit of his, he should have hardly any endurance. Approximate engagement time: six minutes.

She closed her eyes and waited, expected a brief beating and then the usual. She would have to go on another hunt. How inconvenient.

However, the expected blow didn't come. Instead, something warm and human-sized launched into her at a high velocity, knocking her out of her seat. Crashed to the ground, violet eyes snapped open in shock. A red-head laid sprawled on top of her, a nasty red mark upon her chin.

She blinked. Nine times out of ten when something of the sort happens, the crowd, awed by the aggressor, allowed the deed to occur. On rare occasions, some self-appointed hero stepped up to the mantle. To their chivalrous doings however, Yuzuki paid little heed. This, however, would be a first time the self-appointed hero gets knocked down by some crude street trash.

It took her a second to process the situation. And then, pushing herself out from under the girl and up from the ground, she dusted off her kimono. She looked up at the burly man, who sneered arrogantly. "lil' girls should stay home with their papas, not runnin' around playin' wannabe heroes."

She reached into her sleeve and removed the purse, drawing open the string, she turned the bag upside down and dumped its content - dozens and dozens of silvers - upon the table. The brilliant coins cluttered on hard wood, pooling, and some unlucky ones bounced off, quickly snatched by opportunist bystanders.

She shook the bag, signifying its emptiness, before putting it back into her sleeve. And then, without saying another word to either the man or the girl, she walked toward the bar again.

"Ale, where?"

[Dusty Dawson]

The embarrassment stung worse than the bruise. How dreadfully careless she had been. The woman calmly moved herself from beneath Dusty, who was now up to one knee and rubbing her rather sore jaw. The price of doing the right thing, she supposed.

Then an even more curious noise caught her ears. The sound of coins hitting the ground. That wasn't at all what she had expected. In fact, most of the bystanders did not expect it, either. The stranger had elected to pay the drunken buffoon the greatest insult of all...ignoring him completely.

"Huh...now ain't that somethin'..." she watched the other girl make a few more inquiries in regards to her beverage of choice, then turned back to the large man.

"Anyways...like I was sayin' before bein' so rudely interrupted..." she spoke a little louder, "Ain't no reason for talk like that. I suggest an apology is in order. But, if you'd rather make a mess o' things, I'd be happy to oblige ya. Just don't go 'round sayin' I didn't give ya the chance ta back out."

[Yuzuki Isawa]

The bar-owner, staring dumbfounded at the pile of silvers upon the table, hardly paid any attention to the tattered samurai. Greed filled his eyes and he rubbed his hands nervously, as if contemplating diving over and grabbing some of the loot himself. The maid, freshly arriving out of the cellar and having missed the scene, served Yuzuki with her drinks – it’s a wonder how that little girl managed to balance ten bottles of ram on two trays.

The samurai uncorked a bottle and took a swig, chugging down the liquor as if it was water. The familiar burn rushed down her throat, and warmth, starting from her stomach, spread through her. She closed her eyes and sighed in bliss.

Meanwhile, her aggressor was busying himself with his booty. Greedy fingers grabbed at those coins, and avarice made his ale-reddened face even more despicable than before.

However, the self-appointed hero, as Yuzuki mentally dubbed the red-head, didn’t seem exactly willing to back down. Nonetheless, it was not her concern. She had already emptied her purse. If the red-head didn’t want to take that opportunity to get away, well, she can’t be bothered then.

“Apology? APOLOGY? HA!” The drunkard boomed, temporarily relinquishing his hold on the coins. “So you want ‘nother punch to t’at face yah?” He taunted, preparing to strike again.

(OOC: feel free to control the NPC)

[Dusty Dawson]

The punch came, but this time Dusty's face was scarce. She leaned back and felt nothing but the wind that the force of the drunkard's intended strike produced.

"Naw...that ain't gonna cut it, this time." she said, with a smirk. She raised her hands and got herself ready for a fight. It looked like reason was not going to be utilized, "Listen friend...ya got one last chance 'fore I go an' embarrass ya in fronta all your buddies."

More punches came, but the drunk and belligerent fellow was not finding his target as easy to find. Frustration was clearly sinking in as Dusty started to tag a few punches of her own after each duck and sway.

"Whew, buddy, ya really got in over your head, now didn't ya?" she goaded the easily angered man into more sloppy punches.

"Shaddup!" he bellowed, "When I get done with ya, we'll see just how funny ya are!"

The crowd, finally seeing the fight they had expected to see, had started to cheer. They even seemed to have forgotten about the original "participant". Due to the height and size difference...along with the hastily thrown swings...Dusty was sticking to body shots. They didn't quite have the same amount of power, but she knew she was wearing down her opponent. In the scrum, Dusty's hat had been knocked off and floated away, getting kicked around the bar floor. Finally, the ex-soldier got the opening she was looking for and landed a very nice blow (in her own opinion) to the gentleman's temple. And, like a sack of rocks, he dropped to the ground, out cold...

[Yuzuki Isawa]

Well then, looks like the self-appointed hero might back up her taunt after all. Yuzuki ruminated silently, sparing a glance here and there at the two combatants. It was rather obvious who the victor would be. The red-head was barely trying, landing swift jabs and focusing on evading blows. The drunkard, large and unwieldy like an ungraceful bear, swiped at empty air.

In keeping with her estimations, his movement began to grow sluggish still. Four minutes. Five. Six.

A swift punch, faster and stronger than the previous jabs, connected with the drunkard’s temple, knocking him out instantly.

Can’t say she was surprised. Shifting her gaze back to the liquor bottles, she noted that she was already on the second. Damn. At this rate, she’d have to find a job by tomorrow. Heaving a faint sigh, she unbelted a leather water sack and drained a bottle into it. Might as well load her up before she finishes it all.

But aside from that, Yuzuki made no motions to leave her seat. It was as if she had nothing to do with the bar fight. Nor did she once eye the pill of coins still lying on the table. She had given it freely; there was no taking it back. Speaking of the coins however, the other inhabitants of the tavern were getting restless.

A dozen or more eyes zeroed in on the delicious silver. Only the presence of the red-head, the recent vanquisher of one of the tavern’s more bellicose and powerful members, halted them in their tracks.

“Say, laddy, we all know you’ll knock ‘em Travis down just fine, whadda ya say ya share some of ‘em wealth ya got ‘ere.” A shoddy man with twelve o’ clock shadow spoke up first, beady little eyes trained on the coins. Behind him, his buddies murmured in approval.

[Dusty Dawson]

Dusty shook her hand, as she admired her work. Although credit had to be given to the large brute. It was one of the harder heads she had ever had to slug. Her brief moment of celebrity, was now growing into an uncomfortable focus, as one of the other patrons had a rather greedy glint in his eye.

She didn't pay much attention to the others as she found her hat on the ground and went about gathering up the coins. Shoving them inside the wide-brimmed hat, Dusty stood back up and glared at the other shady character.

"Really?" she said, "Well, this ain't my money to be handin' out...so, you can just keep yer grubby lil' hands to yourself. 'Sides...the show's over. Ya'll best get back to your drinks."

Dusty walked over where the stranger sat and dropped the now heavier hat right next to her order of drinks.

"Ma'am," she said with a friendly smile, "I believe ya dropped these!"

[Yuzuki Isawa]

Now that’s first. Yuzuki looked up again at the polite address, inscrutable violets studying the face of the redhead before her. A powerful jawline, proud features, and sincere baby blue eyes. Replace that flaming mane with some blond tresses, and Dusty’s got just about every cliché heroic features in the book.

Unfortunately, she was hardly a damsel in distress.

“Consider it your reward.” She finally spoke, after a moment of pregnant silence. She had considered ignoring the redhead all together, but with a bottle and a half down already, she was feeling slightly more amiable, if amiable can be used to describe her at all that is.

“You heard the lady, now why don’ ya share some of dat wealth with us.” This time, it was not just the stubbled man, but all of his friends as well, that stepped forward. The extremes people are willing to go for money…

Looking up with apparent disinterest, Yuzuki surveyed the scene. Five approached the bar, and more than half the bar was looking over their shoulders, appearing to be willing to jump in for a share of the silvers should a fight start. Judging from the chevalier’s earlier performances, she can probably handle herself, but it would be unlikely that she would escape the brawl without a scratch or two. The samurai sighed. If there was anything she hated, it was having someone else assaulted for her sake.

Raising the bottle high above herself, she gulped down the last of its content. Meanwhile, the stubbled man and his lackeys approached them, albeit cautiously, still a little awed by Dusty. “Now just split half of dat silvers with us and ‘ere won’t be any trouble…” He reached forward to grab the hat.

An empty bottle came down hard on his wrist, the motion so fast that it appeared a blur to bystanders. He cried out in pain, backed up a step, and turned to face the emotionless samurai with a snarl. “Get ‘em!”

No words were wasted, just how Yuzuki likes it. She dropped the bottle, and, moving with fluidity unexpected of someone who just drank two bottles, dodged a clumsy charge. She leaped off of her seat, sidestepped a blow to the torso and in the same motion aimed a low kick at the joint of her attacker’s knee. His leg gave out, and she followed through with a side kick, before dodging another incoming blow by centimeter margins.

Her attackers growled in frustration. Each blow was so close! But just when they thought they nailed her, she move just enough that the blow catches only air. And to aggravate their pride even more, her swords were still belted and untouched by her sides.

Failing to land a strike, a couple men broke off and charged toward the innocent Dusty instead.

[Dusty Dawson]

"Well, uh...if ya insist..." Dusty had not expected this...although she probably should have. The stranger was certainly an odd character. Not that she meant any particular insult.

Looking down at her hat full of coin, the problem now seemed how to effectively transport the bounty. She didn't have a pouch big enough carry this much...at least not on her. It now seemed that leaving Watson behind was not such a good move, after all.

These thoughts were interrupted as the other patrons of the lovely establishment she was currently in, once again made a move for the money they had no right to. She was about to fire off a verbal barb, when something came crashing down on his hand.

It turned out, the woman she had stepped in in to "save" was every much the capable fighter that Dusty had imagined her to be. And then some. Now it was her turn to be the bystander and watch the impressive display.

The brawl soon came back to her, as a few of the frustrated gentlemen decided that they would have an easier time with the red-head. That, of course, was something of a mistake. Dusty reacted to the blows, by bobbing and weaving and out of the way. Not with the fancy flourishes of her new "friend", but no less effective. Punches flew out and landed at their targets...and Dusty began to add in a few elbows to the mix, for good measure.

[Yuzuki Isawa]

"Heh...ha...hahahahaHAHA!"

As the last of the drunkards brave enough (or perhaps drunk enough) to dare the wrath of Yuzuki and Dusty laid down by their feet, the samurai threw her head back and roared in laughter. No one could tell what so tickled her fancy. The onlookers stood in awe at the mutable swordsman. First from apathy, then to violence (not to mention her utter prowess in the brawl!), and now maniacal laughter? She must be touched in the head.

She walked back to the laughter, barely holding in chuckles. Her whole frame shook with repressed laughter, and she grabbed the only bottle not destroyed in the fight and chugged its content down her throat. Some ale, poured much too fast, escaped her waiting maw and ran down her powerful neck and jaw, bringing yet another shade to her travel-worn garb.

"From the boundless mountains a dragon soars,
Who come from no where and leaves no trace.
Razor sharp fangs pierces the sky,
In dream the world flashes by!"

A pleasant mezzo-soprano lifted up in a song, a tune unfamiliar to the bar's inhabitants. The samurai, as if oblivious to her surroundings, took another swig of the bottle.

"Heh.." She chuckled again, a strange expression passed by her face. There was boredom, there was disdain, and masked beneath all that, a flash of pain.

She finished the ale and, without another word, turned to leave.

(OOC: So...yeah....Yuzuki's kiiiiiiind of anti-social, sorry if she's so unpredictable >< Totally not my fault! *runs awa*)

[Dusty Dawson]

'Dusty, ol' gal...what in the hell've ya gotten yourself into...' were the exact thoughts that ran through her mind, as the ex-soldier watched the samurai went from beating a rather dangerous group of drunkards (with some input on Dusty's part)...then to laughter...and rounded things off nicely with a couple of verses of song. Touched in the head was a good way of describing it. Nuttier than a goblin on cactus juice was how she would have put it.

"Er...so, uh...good fight?" Dusty scratched her head and tried to start up some conversation...for reasons that were beyond her...only to have the stranger turn to start to leave.

"Hey! Wait up!" she grabbed her hat full of coins and started to follow. In addition to curiosity...Dusty was fairly certain that sticking around a tavern full of beat-up patrons was a good way to wind up having to offer explanations to guards.

(OOC: XD No worries! Sorry for taking so long...just got swamped at work. But, unpredictable(/crazy) characters are fun!)

[Yuzuki Isawa]

(OOC: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I just finished typing a reply...and then I accidentally clicked on a bookmark and lost the whole thing T__T Time to start all over again...)

Yuzuki had crossed the threshold of the tavern to the outside when she heard the holler.

"Was the pay not sufficient?" She turned, waited for the redhead to catch up, and then asked. There was a hint of a frown on her face. After all, 78 silvers for dispatching some rowdy drunkards was generous by any standards.

Of course, there was always the other possibility. Insofar, Dusty hardly seemed the money-hungry type. She could simply be wanting of a conversation with the samurai, perhaps comparing techniques, or perhaps even a lengthy introduction regarding homelands (All that leather hardly seemed native).

Amidst the two options, Yuzuki had to say she preferred the former. She really did not care for human companionship at the moment...for that matter, at any moment.

And then, as if remembering, she added. "What happened in the bar never happened." Her tone was flat and no threat accompanied her statement. But her drunken display only moments earlier added weight to her words.

[Dusty Dawson]

"Huh? Naw, the pay's fine...hell, wasn't even lookin' for that." Dusty slowed down and came to a stop. At the mention of the little incident that had brought them together, the red-head looked over her shoulder at the tavern. "Oh, that? Believe me, I ain't gonna be squawkin' 'bout that."

She stood for a moment as she tried to remember just what it was that she was looking to ask the other foreigner, "Oh! Yeah, that's what I wanted to ask...where's a gal, like yerself learn to fight like that? That's some impressive style ya got for yourself." she inquired, with a friendly grin.

(OOC: Oh, no! I hate it when that happens ><)