The day started just as it usually did in the town of Wrathlake; the same shops opened, the same people shouted out their morning greetings as they trudged along the dusty path, and the same carriages rumbled down the tracks. The only thing different was a single fluttering sheet of paper positioned just outside of the general store. It wasn't in the usual place of the wanted posters, so it couldn't have been one of them - instead, it read:


Now, Wrathlake is not a particularly literate place - so many locals could be seen squinting and mouthing the words printed in large black letters on the peice of paper alongside twelve drawings of the missing treasure hunters. Missing people were not uncommon, but twelve was unheard of. Could this have to do with the famous lost riches of Wrathlake? One things for sure: it was drawing quite a crowd.

Samuel strode out of a saloon, and joined the gathering crowd. He pushed past people, struggling to get to the front. The strange cloak and rifle helped. Some people stared, but most ignored him. "One hundred thirty dollars? Seems worth it." Samuel of course, was in a bit of a predicament. He needed the money, but he didn't know how to bring people living. He was mostly a killer, but he could accustom to the idea. He could use his usual tracking skills, work his way among the crime land to find rumors, see if it was coincidence or if some bandits had taken them away. Of course, they would most likely be dead if bandits took them, but surely Samuel would get the money. He shrugged and walked back to his horse, his grey cloak covering the top half of his face, keeping his red hair hidden.

(This post WAS supposed to take place after his backstory, but you know how that turned out *points at OOC*. Also, you do know that 135 dollars then would be worth something like four thousand dollars now, right?)

A hangover.

Great.

Sterling pushed himself off the ground, clutching his head and looking around for his canteen. He found it, quickly unscrewing his canteen and downing half of it in one swig. He'd have to fill it back up later, but at least he still had some in it. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in his room in the hotel in town, which was scarcely decorated as it was a rare occurrence for him to be there to do more than sleep or bathe.

With a sigh, Sterling threw on his holster and slung his canteen around his shoulder, assuring that his revolver was in a place that could be easily accessed, also noting to himself that he should refill the canteen. He didn't take his knapsack, as he most likely didn't need it or the items in it. He didn't need to tie up a bounty head and there definitely wouldn't be a gunfight at eight in the morning. Or at least he thinks it's eight in the morning... Anyhow, he walks outside.

He saw a group of people crowding around something, and he squeezed his way into the crowd. He saw the poster, which he could make out but not easily (despite growing up in Boston and having some education, reading was never his style). It was something about missing men, and the reward was... Holy shit. That reward could keep Sterling fed for months, no, YEARS. Not to mention he could buy enough booze to put Cooter Brown to shame.

Without a second thought, he looked around on the poster for any names so he could ask their family where the men were going when they left town, so he could follow in that general direction and pray to find them. Then again, if they had left town over a week ago, they'd probably be long gone... If they were still alive, that is.

During her travels into Wrathlake, Annette had done a lot of thinking. She had regretted yelling at her father last night over the state of the ranch, but she didn't like giving up so easily. Her thoughts traveled back to the scene: Sitting at the kitchen table, hand in hand, Wesley spoke to his daughter, their matching bright blue eyes looking at one another. "I gotta sell the farm. For us." he said, and Nettie tossed his hand down. "No!" she yelled, standing up. How dare he throw away everything they had worked so hard to keep? "Is it money you need? I'll get it. I'll work harder. I'll do more." she pleaded, her eyes welling up as she shook in anger. "Nettie.." Wesley started before another boisterous "No!" escaped from Annette's petite frame. "Don't fucking take this from me. I did this for you. I won't stop." she yelled again, storming off to her room. The door slammed. Ending the conversation and the night.

Getting to town as every one began their day, she molded into the crowd just fine. People knew Nettie, whether it be because of her parents, her older brothers, or her own reputation she had created for herself. "Woah." she pulled on the reins, climbing off and tying up her horse; Stone. She patted his back as he lowered his head into a troth that had some oats in it. Lots of people were crowded outside of the general store, which peaked Nettie's interest, as she was heading there looking for work either way. Standing at barely five foot two, she made her way through the crowd with a bit of trouble until she was in front of them and getting to peer at the piece of paper.

MISSING : Twelve men and counting. Treasure hunters - last seen leaving Wrathlake nine days ago. Families worried. REWARD: $130

Nettie did not know how to read but some of the words were familiar, "Wrathlake" and "$130". Turning to a man next to her, she spoke, "Y'all know what that sign says?" she asked, tucking a strand of her blonde curly hair behind her ear. She smiled. She could be charming when she wanted to, and usually it helped when she needed something done, like a poster read to her.

Watching from a distance as the crowd gathered around the poster - on which the reward for finding a group of treasure hunters - sat Lynch, silently chewing on some tobacco. He just observed, eying the men and women who came to see what the poster was about. His brother had already tried to push him, knowing that Scott needed the money. And his brother had been right. He did need the money. Lately he had spent his night in a friend's barn, sleeping in the same stable as his horse, Able. It was alright, but he really didn't want to be there for another year.

A reward of $130. Everyone spoke the language of money, so seeing that amount had everyone interested. But why were these men so important. There were plenty of missing treasure hunters, but why did these men get a reward for finding them? - What were they chasing? Something about this poster just didn't feel right.

He decided to wait for a little longer, still eying the crowd to see what would happen next while his mind was working on a plan of action. Perhaps his brother had more information; - No. No he didn't have any. He would've told him more had he known more. It were probably the locals at the edge of town who would have more information. A group of treasure hunters surely would catch someone's attention, right?

Waking up early and flipping the sign from closed to open every morning had been Jessie's task for years. She settled behind the bar, leaning over it suggestively as she had been taught. She didn't expect any large amount of customers until at least the afternoon, but there was still the odd bright-eyed morning person popping in for a drink every so often.

"You heard about the reward, darlin'?" Jessie looked up to meet the gaze of the man she was pouring a drink for and shook her head, a smile playing at her tinted lips. She had heard about the reward, it had been top gossip in the dressing room that morning, but she was always encouraged to get the customers talking. She listened to him talk between drinks, occasionally giggling at his bad jokes.

"I love a bit of adventure. Y'know, the thrill of it. You'll drop by later, eh shooter?" She winked at the guy before stepping out from behind the bar. May as well take advantage of the crowded street. Swinging open the saloon doors, she planted herself a few feet away from the entrance, revealing her work dress to the public. She would wink at every passer by, and call out to the odd good looking one, but on the inside she was mind-numbingly bored. She hadn't been lying when she said she loved thrills - she was dying for some fun.