Steam and Steel Options

[Rohirrim]

Jonah stepped into the morning sun from the darkness of the tailor shop. He carefully situated his goggles on his face, hitched up the rifle strap on his shoulder, and went to find some lunch. This was the slaughterhouse district, so a broiled beefsteak or kidney and some drink wouldn't be too hard to find. Spotting the double doors of a saloon, he stepped in and grabbed a seat at the bar. He held up his flask and dropped a penny on the bar. "Refill, please. Whiskey." The bartender silently obliged him, and Jonah took a swig. He winced. Rye, always rye, he thought, what I wouldn't do for some good old bourbon. He let the whiskey coat his mouth then put down a nickel. "Two kidney chops, my good man." The barkeep went into the kitchen to place Jonah's order. Satisfied it was being taken care of, Jonah looked around. The synth-piano played a gay tune, and some women of questionable virtue, as well as several other patrons, were around. He hiked up his bowler hat, letting his bangs fall down, and removed his goggles, putting them on his forehead. He cast a glance at the bounty board hanging at the end of the bar. Maybe, he thought, maybe.

This post has been edited by Rohirrim: Oct 26 2013, 05:33 PM

[Callidus Thorn]

Percival Bradshaw stumbled into the saloon, muttering to himself, his mechanical left hand tapping a nevous rhythym against his ill-fitting steel breastplate. He took a seat at the bar, oblivious to anyone else there, and pulled out a pocketwatch on a chain from somewhere behind his breastplate. He glanced at it briefly, then glanced a second time, realizing that it had stopped. He immediately reached into one of the numerous pouches rivieted to his toolbelt, retrieving a roll of cloth, which he unrolled on the bar, revealing a selection of small tools, and set to work.

He was so engrossed with this, muttering to himself as he worked, that the bartender had to clear his throat several times to get his attention. Looking up at the barman, seemingly concerned, Percival began speaking rapidly. "That sounds like a bit of a cough you've got there, my good man. Oh? Sorry, I do get distracted by my work easily, or I did, I can't really say I've got anywork anymore. Oh, yes, of course, ermm, whiskey." The bartender took a moment or two to catch up to Percival's rapid speech, bfore turning to get him his drink, secretly hoping that it would be the only one he'd ask for.

Percival didn't even notice it's arrival, having returned his attention once more to his watch, bringing the mechanical array of lenses on his hat to bear, seating them over his right eye. "Hmm, looks like I'm going to have to pull you apart, see how that spring's holding up" As he muttered to himself his hands matched words to action, his mechanical hand catching the light as he worked, occasionally rotating fully at the wrist, an unconscious habit he'd picked up in the years he'd had it. "Yes, there we are" He pulled out the broken spring and began rifling through his pouches, eventually coming up with a spare, deftly fitting it into place before reassembling the watch. He then pulled a second pocketwatch from under his breastplate, only to find that one had stopped also. "Damn, I could've sworn I wound this this morning." He then proceeded to wind it before digging out yet another pocketwatch, this one working, and set the times on the other two, before returning them all to their various locations beneath the breastplate.

Putting away the roll of tools, he dug out another, and began tinkering with his mechanical arm, muttering to himself about it "needing adjusting".