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Snippet #1694655

located in Number Eight Saloon, a part of Witches of the West, one of the many universes on RPG.

Number Eight Saloon

Is eight your lucky number? Why don't you try your hand at the dice and find out.

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The drifting stranger walked to the bar and looked at the bartender, Mr. Walter Pace. "Beer, and a bottle?" he asked in a small confused way. Walter prepared the brew as he shook his head.

"Well it may not be good, but it's how it is. Here you go pardner." Walter told the young man as he slid the glass to him. The Stranger caught it with his right hand. The hand was thin and the muscles seemed like the man's frame was wiry. His green eyes almost looked like they pierced into a man's soul faster then a rattler's eyes would.

"Would just like a peaceful hour to drink it in." was all the Stranger said as he started to sip and eventually drink from the cup. Bystanders think that though the man was a stranger to the town they believe that most drifters, unless somehow they were nice decent folk and not as rugged as the Stranger, was bad luck.

The Stranger looked around the Saloon with a sigh, he knew that he probably wouldn't expect a warm welcome even from other ordinary folk. If something bad happened and he got falsely blamed for it, he knew how to run for it.