(1942-03-07) What's In The Shadows
What's in the Shadows
Summary: Something bad is in The Gallows
Date: 1942.03.07
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://mushname.wikidot.com/logtitle)
Players:
garrett..clifton..frank..

The Gallows

Toward the back is the requisite wooden bar with a mirror on the wall behind it that has been polished to a nice shine. A line of cushioned bar stools sit in front of the bar just waiting to be used. Tables and chairs dot the rest of the bar.

It's the usual crowd at the Gallows during the time that is usually considered Happy Hour. Which means there really isn't a 'crowd' persay, but there are a few people at the bar and there is a table with a group of men around in playing a loud game of poker while drinking and smoking.

One of the 'usual' crowd is Clifton, stopping in after a day out of taking photos and trying to sell others. As well as picking up some stuff for the house. While the group of men play poker at the table, the Walker sits at the bar and works on a glass of whiskey. Just taking time to enjoy it and avoid the rain before planning to return home for the evening.

It wasn't often that Garrett had come into the Gallows. In fact. this might be the first for the dark skinned boy. Generally it was a good idea for native looking boys to stay away from drunk whites, but hey! Beer! Stepping in through the door, the young, tanned skin man nods to those he recognizes and heads for the bar/

Behind the bar is the owner, Frank. He's gruff and grumpy and usb doing what he does best, pouring drinks. He eyes Garrett as he comes up, "What yer having?"

<FS3> Clifton rolls Alertness: Great Success.

<FS3> Garrett rolls Alertness: Good Success.

Clifton looks back as somebody new enters the bar, eyeing Garrett a moment before turning back to his own drink. Taking a drink from it, he sets it back down on the counter then.

Looking at the selection for a moment, Garrett points behind Frank as he replies "Pabst, please." Pulling a handful of coins from his pocket, the boy counts out the required funds and places them on the counter.

Frank grunts, but nods and turns to get the asked for drink. Blue eyes scan the room as he does so, making sure everything stays calm and the way it should.

<FS3> Frank rolls Alertness: Success.

Well calm is relative, it's as calm as it ever is during this time. About the only rowdiness coming from the group playing poker and it is jovial at least. As for how things should be, well instinct will tell those that have good ones that something isn't quite right. The light perhaps is a bit to dim…or are the shadows to deep and long?

As his glass is set down on the counter again, Clifton's brow furrows a moment. People may think the whiskey is getting to him by how he stares at the counter, but nah…not from that little. He's concentrating on something. Something…off. Again his gaze would turn back around the room, eyeing the group at the table a moment…before the rest of the area.

<FS3> Garrett rolls Danger Sense: Good Success.

Taking his beer quietly, Garrett smiles quietly and half salutes the bartender before leaning on the bar quietly, taking in the room around him as he rests his hand behind his back comfortably resting on the bar edge. Eyes taking on a wary edge for a moment, he speaks quietly over his shoulder. "Nice place you got here mister."

Frank feels it too. Maybe not as much as the rest, but he's aware enough to reach underneath the counter and get a hand full of something. "It'll do." The bartender is only partially paying attention to Garrett. "I think the night's gonna be an odd one." He makes sure to know where the Walker is at.

At the table where the poker game is being played one of the players tosses in his cards "I fold. I swear Billie, if I didn't deal that hand I would think you had stacked the deck." The lights flicker a moment, they don't go out though.

Clifton thinks maybe he's just being paranoid with everything going on lately…but then the lights flicker. Aw hell. As if that wasn't enough to put the Walker's hair on end, his gaze catches sight of something at the window that sends him standing upright with force enough to knock the stool back into the front of the counter a moment. "Shit…"is muttered under his breath, the young man's eyes staying on the window as a hand reaches for his bag which is on the stool next to him.

Leaning back slightly against the bar, Garrett speaks casually. "Out of curiosity…you wouldn't happen to have like….a whole bunch of salt on hand, would you?" Muttering darkly to himself for having left his bag back in camp.

Frank's eyes dart over to Garrett and he makes a split decision, "Don't break my bar. This could be nothing." And then a iron poker from a fireplace is set down on top of the counter near Garrett. The older man watches the whole room, looking for possible signs. "Walker, you got a tab to pay."

The lights flicker again a few times and with each flicker the shadows get longer, stretching into the bar. Billie, playing poker, looks up at the light and over at Frank "Did you forget to pay your electricity bill?" the poker players are a bit to buzzed and occupied to notice any weirdness.

Clifton lets out a scoff laugh "I know, Frank, I know…" He sighs "If shit goes south I got the money in my bag. Just make sure the rest of it goes back home" he shoots the man a smirk. Was he joking or serious? Who knows, but either way as the shadow starts stretching into the bar the young man's gaze is fixed back ahead of them. Shit. Guess this is what you get when you go looking for trouble huh? Trouble finds you. The hand that had reached into his bag pulls back out now, a small pouch in his hand as he pulled it closer to him and reaches his other hand inside it. If needed…he'd go Emeril on this guy with the spice. Bam!

Reaching back and grabbing the Iron poker, Garrett nods slightly. "Much obliged mister…not in the habit of going batshit unless I've got a reason though." Watching the poker players, the native boy frowns pensively and takes a swig of his beer. He had a feeling he was going to need that.

"Something like that…" He doesn't even bother looking at Clifton, so who knows if he's joking or not. Frank reaches underneath the counter again, "Careful of the mirrors…" It's the only nice thing in his bar.

The lights flicker once more but this time they go out completely, leaving the bar in complete darkness!

Clifton keeps the pouch clutched tightly to his chest, form tensing fully as the lights go completely out. Well…double hell. He doesn't say anything, instead keeping his senses trained to the area and trying to stay alert.

Clutching the poker in his right hand now, Garrett sighs softly as the lights go out. "I hate the dark…I really hope this is an air raid drill…" Setting the can carefully on the bar, the native boy keeps his back to the bar as he closes one eye and waits for his night vision to kick in.

An air drill? Unlikely. Franks barks, "Some one open the damn door." Hoepfully. The hunter sighs, pulling out his shot gun. "Sound off, folks. I need to know who's here."

Well someone is listening at least to the order to open the damn door. A cold breeze wafts through the bar as the door suddenly slams open and the lights suddenly come up. One would assume the lights being back up is a good thing, at least until the blackened, mummfied remains of Billie is noted. Creepily still sitting in his chair with his cards in his hand. He would have won too, the had a nice royal flush going on.

With the lights coming back on, Clif's eyes wince a moment before adjusting to the light again. Then…he catches sight of Billie. Or what's left of him. Triple hell! A glare is on the young man's features as he tries to get a smell of the area, catching any scent that may be leaving a trail. As he does that he reaches for his bag, pulling it over his shoulder and returning the pouch to it. He also pulls out enough money to cover his tab, turning to place it on the counter "There ya go, Frank. Keep the extra." He steps over towards the mummified body, trying to get a closer look and a closer scent.

Opening his closed eye as the lights come back on, Garrett sighs quietly as he sees the corpse. "Damn…" Not really having much more than that to add for the moment, the native boy sighs and places the iron poker back on the bar, replacing it with his beer. "Thanks for the loan mister."

Frank swears a rather colorful explicit. He's going to have to ward the damn bar. Frowning, the bar owner steps form behind the bar to walk over to poor Billie. "Someone go get the sheriff." Damn it. Old, but observant eyes quickly scan the body and room, looking for clues.

<FS3> Garrett rolls Search: Failure.

<FS3> Frank rolls Search: Good Success.

<FS3> Clifton rolls Search: Good Success.

<FS3> Frank rolls Lore Vampire: Success.

<FS3> Garrett rolls Native Lore: Good Success.

Nodding to Frank, Garrett heads for the door. "I'll bring him." With that, the Native boy heads into the night running for the sheriff.

Frank snarls, but to himself. This ain't adding up, but that kid at the bar…he turns back to look at Garret as he leaves, "You come back tomorrow. We need to talk." And with that, Frank will busy himself, keeping people calm and waiting for the law.

Well the mummified remains have the other poker players skittering away from the table. None of them have moved that fast in their lives. There is assorted cursing along with it. One of them is pretty sure it’s the Walker Moonshine that is making him see things that aren't there, he is the drunkest one of the bunch. It's not long though that the sheriff and a few deputies show up and they take things in hand and the questioning begins.

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