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Heather walked through the market place, with her guitar on her back, looking for a new amp cause her brother Josh spilled rootbeer on her old one.

FIORELLA YANIRE
GYPSY DANCER

Fiorella... or Fio as her close friends called her stepped into the marketplace. She was looking for some new gold bells as a few of them had fallen off her dancing costume during a preformance the night before. Looking around the market place she kept one hand on the knife that laid hidden underneather her cape.

"Excuse me? Hello? Does anyone know where the Bell Seller is?"

Fio looked around the market place hoping to find the shop.

Then, just for the heck of it, she started playing The Violet Hour by Sea Wolf.

Roland entered the marketplace looking for ammunition. After killing that mugger he had enough money to buy at least 3 bpxes of ammo. His legs were beginning to ache so he sat down on a small box with the words "Fresh Fruit" He'd seen alot of odd characters around the market. A Gypsy girl with the bulge of something sharp under a her clothing, a young girl with an instrument who'd began playing a song which Roland had heard but couldn't remember the name of, and a hawk, which stole an apple from the fruit stand. He'd thought of shooting it just for fun but shook it from the thought from his head, if he did the merchents would assume he was shooting at them and either run away, or defend they're shops. Both meant no ammo. He watched it fly to a dark area and tunr into a girl. He sighed, glad he hadn't shot her. He took a took a coin and placed it on the fruit stand she took it from.

After a minute or two Roland stood up from the box and stretched his arms, he was tired from walking but pushed himself for his guns. The revolvers were a wonderful weapon. They were silver with sandlewood grips. The six chambers were in good shape and turned easy at the slightest touch. Roland loved his guns but he knew if it came to close combat he'd have a large disadvantage. He needed to buy a knife. Preferably a bowie knife, a large blade which was used to cut through the bones of an animal. Only he'd use it to cut through a different bone entirely. Roland yawned and began his search for a General Store or Gunshop.

He'd searched the entire marketplace high, and low. He found merchent selling swords, axes, hammers, but no guns. He'd seen fruit merchetns with guns under they're desks, but refused to tell him where they got them. He'd gotten tired of seaching just when he saw it. The gunshop. It was a worn, western style building with dusty glass. The sign originally read "Bullets, Guns, and More at Good Gunners Needs!" The sign was torn up and missing some letters so it, instead, read, "God Gunes Neds" Not wanting to waste time, Roland stepped into the shop.

It was a dusty, sad place and the shelves were near empty. He found the aisle with the ammuntion, or what remained of it anyway. He found two boxes of his revolver ammo which were 44's. He took the two boxes to the front desk and rung the bell three times. The shop keeper came shorty after word, he was an old man with wrinkles everywhere but the top of his bald head. He moved slowly due to a limp he'd must have gotten recently. "I'm coming I'm coming," He walked to the front of the counter and took the boxes of ammo. "So you here to kill me or steal the rest of what I've got?" He asked this as if it were an everyday question. "Neither, my old friend, "Roland said politely. "I'm here to buy ammuniton for my own guns, but I'm not here to kill you with them." The old man nodded and outstretched his hand to recieve the money. "Twenty gold pieces." Roland pulled out the money he'd killed for and sorted through until he had the twenty in his hands. "Here." Roland placed the gold in the old mans hand. "What happened to this shop, old man?" Roland looked behind him and leaned on the counter. "It looks like someone raided the place." The old man nodded and placed the gold in the cash register. "Thats because someone did." Then he began his story.

It was last week when the kids came in asking for everything in my shop. The oldest must have been around nineteen. And he was the one carrying the knife. "Give us the guns and ammo Mr. Johnnson." He said with the knife up to my throat. I told them I'd rather die then give away all my hard earned weaponry. (You see I used to be a mercenary much like yourself in my younger days and I used the guns I'd taken from they're corpses to make up my store, anyway back to the story.) They didn't like my answer and cut my arms straight across six times. I'd fallen over and tried to grab the gun hidden under this counter but my arms were bleeding too badly for me to even stretch them. They took all my merchendice, the guns, ammo, and all my other equipment like the bandoliers. They must have paid the guards off to keep silent, because I was yelling for them to come help me. They took about twenty minutes to take everything and leave. They must have run away to start a gang or something with all the stuff they stole from me.

"So thats what happend to this sorry shop." Roland was slightly suprised this old man survived the cuts they'd made across his arms. He seen the scars and they were long. They went straight across the entire arm and ended with an X. Roland took the boxes of ammo and quickly lifted the top, He began to load the ammo into the bags on his belt. It took him 5 minutes to complete this annoying task. He loaded his revolvers and looked at the old man. "If you pay me I'll gladly go get those weapons back for you." Roland pushed the guns back inot they're holsters. "Thank you stranger, I never got your name what is it?" Roland walked out of the door and said, "Roland." The old man nodded, obviously aware of how dangerious he was, and waved him goodbye. Roland began his quest to get those weapons back. He needed the money.

Roland stepped into the marketplace. He looked around, it was less busy thne he remembered and it was near dawn. Normally this place was sprawling with activity and even some of the merchents were gone. Something strange is going on, Roland thought. His hands fell instinctivly to his guns, the hard sandalwood making him feel instantly safe. He looked around and noticed that the gun store was the only shop open. He sighed, this wasn't good but he needed to see if the caravaner had brought the guns to the owner, and so he could get paid. "Gods, this is annoying." Roland said. A few women walked past him and Roland tipped his hat, they looked startled and nearly ran away. He shrugged, they weren't important. Roland continued walking to the gun shop and with each step his feet ached a little more. "I need some new boots, or at least a nights sleep." His boots, though they were made from tough leather, were thin and offered minimal protection from the elements, they'd been better suited for the deserts of Mid-World and not the spring time of this place. He continued walking.

Roland pushed the door to the shop open and was blown away by a horrible stench, the stench of death. He put his arm over his nose and mouth and used his other to unholster his Revolver. He walked slowly into the shop. There was blood smeared walls and gore on the floor, at one point he thought he saw a liver. Roland kept moving through the stench and gore. drip drip drip! Blood fel from the cieling and onto the cold floor of the shop. Pat, pat pat! his feet echoed through the otherwise empty building. He heard a choking noise coming from the back of the gun shop. He let his other arm fall to his other gun. Both hands on both guns, Roland moved to the the door blocking him from the back room. He took a breath and kicked it down and saw a horror that will never leave his mind untill the day he died. He saw the shop keeper, Johnnson and something... Else and it was holding Johnnson. It was a demon with a long spiked tail covered in blood, and claws that were as large as Rolands torse. It had the head of a fish but with the serrated teeth of a shark. The top half of its body was lizard-like and the bottem looked like an ox. Its eyes were the purest of red and they were focused on Johnnson, his limp, bloodied body was limp in its grip. It pulled back a spiked claw and cut off his arms at the sockets. Johnnson uttered a choked scream. "No," He couched blood, "Please....let me live!" The demon made a strange sound which might have been a laugh and threw him to the ground. Johnnson sighed and was relieved in his final moments of utter pain. The demon chose its index claws and shoved the in his sturnem, the demon began to rip his rib cage in half Verticaly. Johnnson screamed in pain and passed out, The demon wasn't happy about this. It stopped pulling his rib cage apart and shoved its clawed fingers into his chest, they wrapped around his heart and squeezed. Johnnson awoke immediatly and yelled, "NOOOO-" The demon ripped his heart out and consumed it in a single horrifying gulp. Roland had never been so horrified in his life, until the demon turned to face him. "Oh shi-" Its tail flicked and threw Roland across the room. He crashed into two wooden boxes and broke them on impact. He opened fire on the demon in a half sitting, half prone position.

Roland watched the girl stab the demon with her knife, pathetic. He thought before she helped him up. He'd seen girls like her before, all bravado but running on adrenaline without a plan. Roland sighed, foolish help was better then no help at all. "Get behind me." He said gruffly. He pushed her behind him and began firing the silver bullets into the demons scaly hide. He fired until his Revolvers were out of ammo, which was four shots each. He quickly ducked behind the cover of a few stoarge boxes to reload. His hands did they're old trick which was perfected from years of practice. In a flash his guns were reloaded and he, once again, opened fire on the demon. The second barrage of bullets tore through its hide easily. Roland dodged a blow here and there and once he had to sidestep a spiked tail. The demon grew frustrated with Roland and decided to speak, It lowered it's face untill it was an inch or two from Rolands. "Foolish human!" It shouted in a broken Australian accent. "You cannot defeat me! I am Vile, the king of murder!" Roland wasted no time in his reply, "And I am Roland, I've slain your kind before in my land, Mid-World where time is forgotten. I killed the succubus and defeated many others far worse then you!" And with that Roland fired a single shot into the demons skull. The bullet tore through it's hide and destroyed it's brain. The body fell to the floor, twitching. Roland looked over to the girl, "Thank you, but next time don't be foolish and actually think before you act." He holstered his pistols, and brought out his bowie knife that Ares had given him. He slowly began skinning the demon. Demon hide must be worth something in this city.

He'd finished in about ten minutes and walked over to Johnnsons dead body. The old man, mutilated and lying in a pool of his own blood, was a man Roland could respect. He spoke a few words over his body and took a key from his belt. Roland walked out to the front of the shop. He opened the safe under the counter and took all the gold inside it and one diamond. This had to be worth at least 50 gold coins. Roland thanked Johnnson and left the shop, leaving the girl to do as she pleased.

Roland walked a few meters before he heard steps behind him, it was the girl, chancer would hav eit, and he didn't want to speak to her. She was unimportant and therefore expendible. HE sighed and tried to act polite which was an amazing feet all on it own. HE turend around and said, "Thank you for helping me, now go home girl." He didn't say it in the High speak as he was so accustomed to and didn't care if the girl caught a little detail from his world that she'd never even heard of, Mid-World. Where time is forgotten and death is a constant. He walked away from her and turned down an alley headed for a tavern. His head was aching and he needed some sleep. He hoped the girl stopped following him.
He neared the Tavern and could make out the sign, "Drunks Haven." He pushed the simple wood door open and ordered a beer from the waitress.

"Would that be all sir?" The waitress asked in an Irish accent, her blonde hair was soft and looked like she took care of it well and her blue eyes pierced Rolands soul. She had a few freckles around her nose, but otherwise her face was clean and pretty. It had been twenty minutes since he last came in and he'd ordered a soup and three more bottles of beer. His vision was slightly dizzied, slightly. He got up and said. "No, thank you for your service." Roland left ten gold pieces on the table he'd sat down at, and ordered a bed. "Five gold, no more no less." The shop keeper said. Roland put the money on the table. "Which one?" He asked, and the shopkeep gave him a key to the fourth room on the left. Roland nodded his thanks and walked up the creaky wooded steps to the second floor.

With his body on the bed, Roland felt at home and closed his eyes. He fell asleep in moments. He had no dreams only darkness.
Fully rested and no long aching from head to toe, Roland pulled himself out of the bed reluctantly. He clothed himself and put his cow-hide shoes on and belted the revolvers in their holsters to his pants. He grabbed his hat on his way out and exited the tavern fully rested and ready to take on a few quests.