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Topic: Vote for the Inn
Subject: Or...
...we will kiiiiiiiiilllllllll you!
Just kidding.
kinda....
Posted on 2012-09-01 at 22:26:24.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: More fluff from elsewhere in the Verse
Moriah Gulch Orphanage: Moriah Gulch, Deadwood – 12:30 p.m. local time
“Let’s chase dragonflies!!!”
Fu Sheng smiled, watching as a group of younger children stormed off across the meadow in pursuit of the target insects that where driven from the grasses in advance of the exuberant kids, and, after a long moment, curled his legs underneath him and pulled a well-worn book from where it had waited in his coat. He sat the thing in his lap and, still watching Little Flower and her friends, let his fingers drift over the tome’s title- The Wisdom of No Escape - embossed into its leather cover. He absently flipped the cover open as his gaze panned left and took interest in the seven older kids who had decided to practice their wushu despite being told they were free to spend this class-time doing whatever they wished to do. The little monk thumbed past the first pages of the book and, once again, shifted his attention to another student (a girl of thirteen or so who had found a spot beneath a scraggly tree with her sketchbook) when Rebecca Tanner, one of the too few teachers in Moriah Gulch, knelt down in the grass beside him.
“No kung fu, today,” she asked after a minute or so spent in silence.
“No, Tanner shao jeh,” Fu Sheng answered, his eyes dipping to the page beneath his fingertips, reading the first sentence (for the hundredth time), and then turning to regard the sandy-haired woman beside him as he closed the book’s cover…
“Rebecca,” the younger woman demurred, “please.”
“Rebecca,” Fu Sheng nodded, his smile widening a little and his cheeks, perhaps, flushing a bit. “No, there is no gong fu, today… Rebecca.
Today,” the little monk said, folding his hands atop the book in his lap and letting his gaze drift over the meadow, “I thought perhaps I would let them teach me for a change.”
“Teach you,” the school teacher asked curiously, only to be answered with an enigmatic nod and smile until she pressed the matter, “Teach you what exactly?”
Fu Sheng contemplated this for a moment, his eyes drifting over the field to take each of the children before settling, once more, on the teacher who sat beside him in the grass. “They teach me what it means to be a child,” he grinned, “to be free.”
Rebecca smiled, herself, and nodded as if she understood the little monk’s explanation but, even at that, her eyes met his and asked for more.
“The taolu, the wushu forms, that I teach them are lessons in structure,” Fu Sheng said, “Instruction in cultivating their chi… guidance in harnessing and directing it… this,” he made a sweeping gesture with one hand to indicate the various clusters of children, “allows them to let that chi flow, uninhibited, and express themselves outside the confines of that structure.
It is pure and free and innocent,” the monk smiled, his eyes meeting Rebecca’s once again before wandering away to observe a small group of kindergarteners tumbling down a tiny knoll. “I teach them structure,” he shrugged faintly, “and they teach me abandon.”
“Purity, freedom, and innocence. All things that you missed experiencing when you were a child,” Rebecca whispered after a moment, not really having intended for her thoughts to escape her head just that way. Most people at the orphanage knew all about Fu Sheng’s ‘childhood,’ it was not a secret that he tried, at all, to hide, but, that didn’t mean he ever cared to discuss it. Most people knew that, too. She swallowed hard, then, and nervously folded her hands in her lap as she tried to look at anyone... at anything… but the gently smiling Chinese man beside her.
“What I did not experience then,” she heard him say, “I experience now…” she felt the feather-light touch of one of the monk’s hands on her shoulder and watched as the other made a sweeping gesture to indicate his ‘class,’ “…through them…” she felt more than saw him smile at her, then “…through you.”
There was a hint of sadness hiding in the school teacher’s return smile when she at last offered it and, perhaps, it was that secret melancholy that prompted the young woman to close her hand over the priest’s where it rested atop the book just then; “You are a curious man, Sifu Cheung…”
“Fu Sheng,” the monk offered with a grin, strategically interrupting the words that flowed from the school teacher’s lips and through her mind, “please.”
“Fu Sheng,” Rebecca repeated, offering a sheepish smile when she realized she had inadvertently taken the monk’s hand in hers and blushing a bit when she, at last, let it go, “Of course.
I… I’m sorry.” Her gaze tried to flit away, again, and she wasn’t sure exactly what to do with her hands.
“No need for apologies, Rebecca shao jeh,” Fu Sheng said as he captured her hands between his own, “Touch communicates where words often fail, no?”
Her own hands steadied as, clasped gently between the monk’s, they were guided back into her lap and released from their escort. “I suppose it does,” she said, her cheeks still pink, as she managed to look away from him and follow the antics of the dragonfly-chasers.
Fu Sheng seemed content to follow suit and, for several long moments, the both sat there, watching the children at play.
“They’re going to miss you,” Rebecca said, finally.
“And I am going to miss them,” Fu Sheng answered.
There was more silence as they watched Little Flower stalk and narrowly miss capturing a particularly large dragonfly.
“They’re worried about you.”
“I know.”
“They’re worried that there will be Reavers,” she laughed, only a little nervously.
“Yes, and, one night a year, a fat man, in a red velvet suit, sneaks into our houses through the chimney,” Fu Sheng allowed a chuckle of his own, “Very scary.”
Rebecca giggled at that, the nervousness she felt dispersing a little in the face of Fu Sheng’s levity. That respite lasted only an instant, though, and as the school teacher’s laughter was carried away on a prairie breeze, she and the monk were left in silence for another short while. Her smile faded in that silence, too, and she wondered if the monk could sense what it was that had chased it away… wondered if she should tell him even if he could… “They’re worried that you won’t come back,” she almost whispered, after a time, her eyes shining as they framed the serene face of the monk, “I’m worried that you won’t come back.”
“That the birds of worry and care fly over our heads, this we cannot change,” Fu Sheng said, just as softly, as he turned to look at the woman beside him, “but that they build nests in our hair, this we can prevent.”
The school teacher found her smile again and offered a nod but said nothing in reply.
“I will come back,” it was Fu Sheng’s turn to break the silence, at last, and he did so with a characteristic smile and a light touch on her cheek, “I promise.”
You can’t promise, she wanted to tell him, it’s not your way. You go where you’re needed and you stay as long as that’s so. What if you find someone who needs you more than we do? Although her lips moved as if she might just say so, no sound made it past them and, instead, she just smiled a little brighter and took his hand from her cheek. “I…” She held his hand between hers for a second longer and then let it go; “When do you leave?”
“This evening,” Fu Sheng answered, “Bryant Shian Shen and the others have purchased my passage on a small transport that’s leaving from Spearfish.”
“Will you stop in to see me before you go,” Rebecca asked, “I’ve got something… the children drew you some pictures… and…”
“I caught one!!! Sifu!!! I caught one!!!”
The monk and the teacher let go of each other’s eyes then and turned them toward the meadow where Little Flower, wide-eyed with excitement and her hands cupped together, was racing toward them with her dragonfly-chasing cohorts close behind. It wasn’t long before the breathless little girl, her hands, in which the dragonfly was caged, held out before her stood before them. “Sifu,” she grinned, “I caught one… Hi Miss Tanner…”
“Hello, Jin Lei,” Rebecca smiled in reply.
“So you have said, Little Flower,” Fu Sheng said, grinning up at the little girl, “let me see.”
Little Flower thrust her hands forward, then, and Fu Sheng caught them in his own. He peered between her fingers as the insect that waited patiently inside it’s temporary cell. “Ah, yes,” the monk smiled, “and orange-veined darner. Very pretty.”
Little Flower’s smile widened as the monk let her hands go. “Does it make good medicine, Sifu?”
“I am certain it has useful properties,” Fu Sheng nodded, reaching out once again for the girl’s hands and, this time, coming away with the dragonfly trapped in his own, “but, even better than medicine,” he grinned, “they make wonderful snacks.” He popped the darner into his mouth, then, and made a show of displaying his hands to prove that the little bug was no longer in them.
“Eeeeeeewwww!” more than one of the girls squealed.
Little Flower laughed and swatted the little monk playfully; “Sifu!”
Fu Sheng offered a wide smile and then opened his mouth and the dragonfly flew away. “Run,” he said, making a gesture to shoo Little Flower and her friends away, “go play. Class time is almost over.”
Little Flower and her friends scurried away giggling and squealing as Fu Sheng turned to regard the now truly smiling Rebecca Tanner. “Of course I will come and see you,” he said, “you did not think I would go without saying goodbye, I hope?”
“No,” Rebecca replied with a faint shake of her head that set her braids to bouncing on her shoulders, “I know better than that.” She smiled at him, then, and started to get to her feet, nodding at the book in his hands as he followed suit; “Are you enjoying the book?”
“The first two pages are very enlightening,” the monk answered with a cryptic smile, “but, then, the words start and, though I have tried many times, I can never manage to get past the first sentence.”
First two pages? Rebecca wondered, glancing, first, at the book; And then the words start?, and then, back to the monk’s smiling face as her own smile quirked up on one side, causing the freckles across her nose to dance. “The first two pages are blank.”
“Indeed,” Fu Sheng nodded, “It took me three days to understand the first.”
Rebecca blinked.
The monk laughed softly; “Perhaps I will find the time to read it on my trip.”
“You are a curious man, Cheung Fu Sheng,” Rebecca shook her head and laughed, as well.
“I should go,” she said, then, gesturing toward the building that served as the orphanage’s school house, “I’ve got a class to prepare for…”
“Yes,” Fu Sheng smiled in reply, “and, I, one to end.”
“So,” Rebecca said, backing away, now, almost reluctantly, “I’ll see you about 4:30 or so, then?”
“Yes,” the monk nodded, smiling at her even as he raised a hand in the air to silently summon his class, “4:30. I shall see you then.”
“Shiny.”
“Buddha bless you, Rebecca Tanner,” Fu Sheng added as the children gathered before him.
“It’s Becky,” the school teacher answered as she turned and strolled toward the school house, “and bless you, too, Fu Sheng.”
“Becky,” Fu Sheng repeated, almost under his breath…
“Sifu,” a young voice interrupted his thoughts… Buddha be praised… “Umm… did ya want us ta med’tate er sump’n ‘fore th’ end o’ class?”
“Meditation,” the monk nodded, still smiling as his gaze shifted from the departing school-teacher to the waiting children, “Yes. Exactly…”
“Why’s yer cheeks pink, Sifu?”
...
Posted on 2012-08-31 at 16:25:23.
Edited on 2012-08-31 at 16:37:38 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Totally agreed...
...my comment was meant to infer the same thing. Should be interesting for character development and RP purposes. Hell, the whole beginnings of Wyatt and Sam were centered around who was on who's side and who did what to whom... Look how they turned out. 
Posted on 2012-08-31 at 13:56:46.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Yikes...
...John might have picked the wrong ship to fly on with a 'less-than-shiny' attitude toward Browncoats...  ... Oughta be an interesting flight. 
Posted on 2012-08-31 at 13:03:06.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: <3 Tess!!!
I was hopin' that'd happen! I'm sure, somewhere, Sam's sayin' "Sheh sheh, bao bei."
Loved the whole post just as much as that one punch, though... the bits about the horses... and the horse bits... ... niiiiiiiiice!
Posted on 2012-08-31 at 11:26:49.
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Topic: It's his Birthday, and he'll cook if he wants too
Subject: Wha-HUH?!?!?
Holy smokes, it is isn't it?!?!?
Where in the heck did the year go?
Happy Birthday, Roger! Here's hoping it's a fantastic one!!! *birthday hugs*
Posted on 2012-08-30 at 16:58:19.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: But a pickle is a pickle...
...whether you share it or not.
Also... forgot to mention; nice post, gents!
Posted on 2012-08-30 at 11:29:20.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: I am the help desk...
...always a pleasure to assist, Loki.
Knowledge isn't really knowledge if it's kept secret, now, is it?
Posted on 2012-08-29 at 18:52:24.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Images...
Loki - to scale an image of that size down, all you'd really need to do is add height and width specs to the existing html. So, for example, if the original image was 1200x768 and you wanted to display it at half that size, you'd create the html tag like so:
<.img src="http:www.whatever.com/images/big_firefly_pic.jpg" width="600" height="384">
I think the link to the source works muuuuch better with images like this one, though...
Posted on 2012-08-29 at 15:39:31.
Edited on 2012-08-29 at 15:40:01 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Psh....
...The way this little monk has been kicking around in my brainpan, I could likely post perpetually... and we haven't even started yet!
Summer colds are the worst! Hope you feel better soon, Roger. Good vibes to you, my friend.
Posted on 2012-08-29 at 15:02:37.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Gotta go with Roger on this one...
...to me, Tom Baker (Doctor #4) is THE Doctor. All the others that followed were sort of lackluster comparatively and I haven't watched a full episode since the mid-70s.
Love me some Supernatural, too... well, at least through season 6, anyway (things kind of went too far off the rails for me after that and I find myself wishing they'd go back to the "monster of the week" format they started the series with).
And, blahblahblah, this has nothing to do with anything relevant to anything else... guess I just had the urge to ramble. 
Posted on 2012-08-29 at 12:45:53.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Yup...
...Benedict Cumberbatch (sp?) makes a damn fine Holmes! Been through the first series, already... Hoping that a second might be Netflix bound in the near futurish? *crosses fingers*
Also... regarding colors (or colours): The ones I have a problem reading against this gray are white, yellow, and is that silver(?)... Most others don't give me fits trying to "squint out" but, when I see multiple colors I tend to think of The Never Ending Story (if you've read the book as opposed to just watching the movie, you'll know what I mean) and get all whimisical feelin'.
Posted on 2012-08-28 at 19:21:13.
Edited on 2012-08-28 at 19:28:15 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: The Bard's Handbook
Subject: A couple more for you bards...
...I garnered these from hither and yon across the realms when I was playing with a bard character some time ago. Since Darren's made the effort to compile some bardic tunes, here, I figured why not tack these on, eh?
The Maid That Sold Her Barley
It's cold and raw the north winds blow
Black in the morning early
When all the hills were covered with snow,
Oh then it was winter fairly,
As I riding was riding o'er the moor,
I met a farmer's daughter,
Her cherry cheeks and sloe black eyes,
They caused my heart to falter.
I bowed my bonnet very low
To let her know my meaning.
She answered with a courteous smile,
Her looks they were engaging.
"Where are you bound my pretty maid,
It's now in the morning early."
The answer that she made to me,
"Kind sir to sell me barley."
"Now twenty guineas I've in my purse,
And twenty more that's yearly,
You need not go to the market town,
For I'll buy all your barley.
If twenty gunieas would gain the heart
Of the maid I love so dearly,
All for to tarry with me one night,
And go home in the morning early."
As I was riding o'er the moor
The very evening after,
It was my fortune for to meet
The farmer's only daughter.
Although the weather being cold and raw,
With her I thought to parley.
This answer then she made to me,
"Kind sir I've sold me barley."
Green Grow the Rushes
There's no but care on every hand
In every hour that passes oh
That signifies the life of man
and twere not for the lassies oh
-Chorus-
Green grow the rushes oh
Green grow the rushes oh
The sweetest hours that e're I spent
Were spent among the lassies oh
The wordly race may riches chase
And riches still may fly them oh
And when at last they catch them fast
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them oh
-Chorus-
Give me a quiet hour at e'en
My arms around my dearie oh
And warly cares and warly men
May a gae topsy-turvy oh
-Chorus-
For you so grave you sneer at this
You're no but senseless asses oh
The wisest man the world e'er saw
Dearly loved the lassies oh
-Chorus-
Pour Your Brother
-Chorus-
Pour your brother one more round
Pick each other off the ground
Let another chorus sound
Pour your brother another round
-chorus-
Draw another draft for me
Drink till I'm too blind to see
This one's done, forget me three
Draw another draft for me
-chorus-
Cheers to the brewer for his brew
That they say we cannot do
Drink until the cask is through
Cheers to the brewer for his brew
-chorus-
Cheers to the barmaid, she's a saint
Its wondrous how she stands the straint
Catch me lass, I'm gonna faint
Cheers to the barmaid, she's a saint
-chorus-
Dancin' to the drummers beat
Drink with everyone you meet
Your head'll dance without your feet
Dancin' to the drummer's beat
-chorus-
Cheers to the lad upon my knee
Heaven bound I soon will be
It ain't a sin because it's free
Here's to the lad upon my knee
-chorus-
Here's to the lords and to the crown
Here's to the lady in the mocha gown
A shame it's not just a little more down
Here's to the lords and to the crown
-chorus-
Lassies say they never drink
They're scrubbing pots and pans you think
Well they keep the mead below the sink
Lassies say they never drink
-chorus-
Pour your sister one more glass
Catch the ale on the second pass
Catch the lord with that wondrous...
Pour your sister one more glass
-chorus-
Cheers unto my faithful friend
For all this ale, his gold I'll spend
The friendship and the song may end
But cheers unto my faithful friend
Pour your brother one more round
Pick each other off the ground
Let another chorus sound
Pour your brother another round
Edit: Note that, unlike Darren's offerings above, none of these tunes are my own work... Just random ditties that I happened to catch an earful of and thought, "y'know, I can imagine a bard singing that in a tavern"...
Posted on 2012-08-28 at 13:10:48.
Edited on 2012-08-28 at 13:19:20 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute Q&A : Where everybody knows your name
Subject: Hehehehehehe...
...and who knows? Maybe Nyx'll wander in at some point... of curse there is that whole rule against destruction and whatnot... hmmmmm. 
Posted on 2012-08-27 at 14:33:39.
Edited on 2012-08-27 at 14:39:11 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: The Bleeding Lute Q&A : Where everybody knows your name
Subject: Well...
...since this is a freeform sort of romp, Sadaar, I doubt very much that the proprietor of the Lute would have a problem with a kobold popping in. Other patrons, now, might be a different story. *winks*
Posted on 2012-08-27 at 14:12:31.
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Topic: Vote for the Inn
Subject: Our illustrious webmaster...
...could likely explain how the whole thing works, Aryn. I'm not 100% sure how it all works, myself... something to do with total number of votes in (i.e. when you use the little vote widget on the home page) + number of 'hits' out (i.e. when someone's checking out the list and clicks on the RDINN link to check us out) and some super-nerdy math skills... *shrugs*
Anyhoo... we're still at 6.
Posted on 2012-08-27 at 13:08:57.
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Topic: Hello I am Mischief.
Subject: LOL @ Tann
Nah... you're not that bad, Tann-mann... but you're creeping up on it. *winknudgenudgewink*
Annnnnd, as to little Miss Mischief... Any friend of Tann's is a facelick waiting to happen...
...er... I mean... more than welcome into the fold of our little online community of lunatics, maniacs, and assorted crazy folk. *winks*
So very glad that Tann talked you into signing up and, despite the grief we give him, I'm sure you'll find that he'll suck you into the epic that is the Trilogy War and you'll soon find your RP skills tested like never before.... That said, if you feel up to it after "getting your feet wet" in Tril, I'm sure you'll find other adventures hereabouts that would be happy to have you join up... all it takes is a little looky-loo and maybe a post or PM here and there and bing, bang, boom, you're a veritible staple around here. Looking very forward to seeing that happen.
Posted on 2012-08-26 at 13:39:32.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Thanks, Aryn.
Glad you enjoyed it. 
Fu Sheng's gonna be a fun one, I think.
Posted on 2012-08-25 at 14:16:54.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: *winks*
I love you back, melui! 
Glad you enjoyed the post... and the boys' names... Kind of pictured them all as curly, blonde haired, blue eyed kids, indistinguishable from one another save for the fact that their flannels are different colors (Huey in blue, Dewey in red, and Louie in green)...
Posted on 2012-08-24 at 15:21:21.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: *shrugs*
Just a little more from the "other side of the Verse" whilst we're waiting for everyone to get on the same page, so to speak... Nothing major, really, despite the length of the post... just me keeping myself in Fu Sheng's head, I guess.
Posted on 2012-08-24 at 15:10:06.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Moriah Gulch, Deadwood - 7:30 p.m. local time
“Woooooohoooooooo!”
BANG! CRACK! PTAANNNNG!
“We gotcha now ya gorram thievin’ monkeys!”
PTOW! PTOW! KRAAANNNG!
“Aw guay, Huey! They’s gon’ kill us…”
“Bi jhwe!”
“…They’s gon’ catch us an’ they’s gon’ kill us!”
“Shut up an’ keep runnin’, Louie!”
Huey reached a hand back to grab a handful of his brother’s shirt in order to haul him along and, in doing so, was rewarded with a quick but clear look at the men who were chasing them…
Ta mah duh! he thought as his fingers found a tangle of flannel and clamped on, Louie’s right… He could almost see down the barrel of the revolver that had harassed them these last fifty yards or so, and the hoof beats of the horses pounded like thunder under his feet… We’s humped!
…He grunted with the effort as he slung his brother ahead and tried not to look back at the men who he knew would have them dead to rights in just another heartbeat. “Keep runnin’,” he wheezed again, planning on repeating that mantra, over and over, for himself as much as Louie, “Keep… runn… Oooooofff!!”
Did I jus’ run inta a gorram tree?! Huey, half-dazed and half-panicked, scrabbled to his feet, shaking his head to clear the haze from his eyes, and ran blindly into that same gorram tree! This time, though, it didn’t knock him on his pi guh. Nope. This time it caught him before he could fall. And he realized, then, that it wasn’t a tree he’d run into but a man…
“Be still, little rabbit…”
…a bald, little, Chinese man. He ain’t but a stitch er two bigger’n me.
“…You are allowing your feet to get ahead of your mind.”
“But they’s gon’ kiiiiillll us,” Huey finally admitted with a wail, lifting a pitiful finger to indicate the pursuing herdsmen, as the little bald man steadied him.
“There will be no killing,” the little Chinese guy smiled reassuringly.
Huey didn’t realize it until it had happened but, as he… Is he a monk?… as the monk spoke, he had also maneuvered Huey to stand next to his brother (who was grinnin’ like th’ cat what et th’ c’nary for some gorram reason). He wanted to run, again, as he watched the three cowboys rein in their horses… wanted to run even more when the one with the pistol leapt from his saddle… but there was something weirdly reassuring about the little monk’s presence and Huey stood there next to Louie, eyes wide and tears quickly drying on dirt-streaked cheeks.
“Weeellll,” Pistol-man drawled overmuch as he swaggered closer, lifting the brim of his hat with the barrel of his iron, “Welll, well, well! I done told ya we’d getcha, din’ I?..”
“Stay,” Huey heard the monk say, feeling the emphasis of that command in the subtle change in pressure of the monk’s hand on his shoulder, “We shall go home shortly. Dohn mah?”
“Y…yeah,” Huey nodded as the Chinaman’s hand slipped away, “O…okay.”
Louie just grinned bigger and swayed back and forth a little, like he had to pee or something, and gawked after the little monk as he turned and strode calmly away to meet the pistol-wielding cowhand.
“C’mon, Pete,” one of the two who’d stayed in their saddles called as the monk and the cowboy came within ten paces of one another, “This is plumb stupid, puhn yoh!”
“Yeah,” agreed the other one as both men stopped and the monk bowed, “You’ve had yer fun. Let them kids go an’ let’s git back ta th’ herd.”
“Keep yer bloomers on,” Pete called back, sneering at the monk who stood between him and the two urchin boys, “This won’ take but a minnit.”
“Buddha bless you,” the monk smiled.
“Step aside, Cooley,” Pete blustered, nodding at the boys, “Them there’s some ruttin’ thieves an’ they’s fixin’ ta git what thieves git!”
“Thieves?” The monk’s smile never wavered, nor did his position. His tone, though, seemed to lean a mite to the incredulous side. “What have they stolen?”
Pistol Pete’s sneer faltered a little at that but only for an instant. His fingers flexed around the revolver’s grip and he snarled his answer; “Beans!”
“Beans,” the monk repeated.
“Yeah,” Pete growled as if beans were platinum, “Two bowls o’ beans an’ some corn cakes, matter-o-fact! Prob’ly nicked a canteen too I betcha!”
The monk nodded and, still, smiled. “And you would kill two young boys for two bowls of beans?”
Pete’s mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak but there weren’t any words coming out of his mouth. This seemed to make the blustering cowpoke even angrier, though, and his grip on the pistol tightened as he began to draw a slow bead on the little monk who stood in front of him. “Yeah,” he decided to answer, a decidedly wicked smirk on his lips as he eyed the monk down the barrel of his iron, “an’ might be I’ll throw in a pajama-pants Cooley jus’ ta make it a lucky three, dohn mah?”
“Aw, c’mon, Pete,” the first horseman moaned, shifting in his saddle as if he wasn’t quite sure whether he should dismount or not, “The guy’s a priest!”
“There is no need for violence,” the monk smiled, his right hand clenching into a fist and his left, open palmed, moving to respectfully cover that fist as he offered another short bow, “Please, put your gun away.”
Pete snorted, coming just short of outright laughing, and spat in the dry grass at the monk’s feet. “Only way this iron sees leather, little man, is if it gets it a taste o’ thievin’ feh feh or if yo…”
There was a series of muffled pops accompanying a flurry of movement that no one was quite sure they saw properly. Regardless of what anyone saw, or thought they saw, or didn’t see, or didn’t think they’d see, the end result was Pete being disarmed and the pistol returned to his holster before he – or anyone else – could blink. The cowboy’s arm was still extended, his hand still curled as if the pistol was still in it and he was aiming at the monk… and he blinked in dumb disbelief as he came to the slow realization that it wasn’t. “What the…”
“Apologies,” the monk smiled calmly, “you were going to say ‘or if I put it away for you,’ were you not?”
Pete finally blinked passed his own empty gun-hand and glowered at the little priest.
“Look at those boys,” the monk suggested as Pete’s mouth worked on words that still failed to pass his lips, “I do not think they are thieves so much as they are hungry. Allow me to take them away from here unharmed, then, come and see me at the orphanage in the morning, and I will see to it that you are given recompense for your beans…”
“I’ll take my gorram recompense right ruttin’ now,” Pete growled, intending to rip his pistol from its holster and put a bullet to the little monk… wipe that smile from the chinaman’s face permanent-like…
“Pete! No!”
Fssssh…pop…pop…pop… fsssst.
…Pete’s arm extended, he sneered viciously, and his finger squeezed a trigger that wasn’t there… He knew he’d skinned the iron. Knew he’d felt its grips in his palm and it’s trigger under his finger. Knew that the little monk’s face should be a bloody pulpy hole through which he could see the thieving boys by now. But, somehow, the pistol seemed to have never made it from the holster and the monk was still standing there, still smiling…
“Please,” the monk persisted, his smile not quite as warm as it had been an instant ago, “Do not do that again. I do not wish to hurt you.”
“Peeeete… C’mon, puhn yoh…”
“Hurt me?!” The words were meant to come out on a laugh but the anger and embarrassment that had continued to well in Pistol Pete’s heart bore them onto the prairie air on something more akin to an enraged screech, “Gun cai (f*** off), little man! I’m gonna kill you!”
Pete’s hand, missing the pistol it was accustomed to gripping, curled into a fist, launched with ferocious intent at the monk’s head, and, though the little Chinese man hadn’t appeared to move, missed completely.
“Gorramit!!!” Pete howled, swinging at the monk, now, with a haymaker left…
“PETE!!!”
“Reason, I see, is lost on you,” the monk observed, leaning back a fraction so that Pete’s wild swing whiffed harmlessly past the tip of his nose, “I am sorry that it must come to this.”
Everyone but Pete saw the monk move, then. The little man rocked forward and his right hand shot forward, palm open, to strike the enraged cowboy in the solar plexus. The air exploded from Pete’s lungs with such force that it appeared to have lifted him from his feet and launched him backwards to land, on his back and unconscious, some three meters away.
“Ta mah duh,” Huey and Louie breathed together as the other two cowboys finally dismounted.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Fu Sheng,” one of them said, addressing the monk, as the other crouched down beside Pete’s finally still form, “Pete’s kinda new on the crew an’ had more’n a little to drink. We tried ta get him to cool his heels but…”
“Quite all right, Dan,” Fu Sheng smiled, waving a hand to dismiss the apology, “I don’t believe there was anything you might have done to keep him from this path. He seemed rather determined.”
“Heh,” Dan chuffed, casting a glance at where Pete lay a few feet away, “I reckon he was.” He grinned at Fu Sheng, then, and nodded past the little monk to where Huey and Louie stood, right where they had been told to, and asked; “Them a couple o’ yers?”
“They are now,” Fu Sheng nodded.
“Figgered as much.”
“How is Bryant Shian Shen?”
“Doin’ good,” Dan replied as he and the little priest moved to assist the third cowboy with lifting Pete onto his horses back, “Him an’ Miss Kathy’re plumb tickled that yer goin’ on this run fer ‘em. Hell, all o’ us are. Things go smooth an’ crops oughta start lookin’ up fer ev’ryone, round here… Won’t make Deadwood no Harvest or nothin’ but least ways we shouldn’t have ta go off-world as much…”
“That is the hope,” Fu Sheng smiled, backing away as Dan and his partner finished securing a now moaning Pete into his saddle. “Do these boys owe you anything for the supper they took?”
“Nope,” Dan shook his head, “I reckon not.”
“Wha…” Pete mumbled, trying to lift his head and survey the surroundings through bleary eyes, “Wha’ th’ hells happened?”
“You done got set on yer pi guh is what,” Dan answered with a chuckle.
“I feel like I been kicked by a mule.”
“Nah,” the other cowboy smirked, “Smacked by a Sphinx. I warned ya.”
“Buddha bless you,” Fu Sheng added, patting Pete lightly on the cheek and then offering yet another bow.
“Buddha bless you, Cheung Fu Sheng,” Dan called as the little monk wandered away and gathered up the two boys, “You mind yerself out there in the Black, puhn yoh!”
Fu Sheng lifted a hand in reply to that as he whispered to a stop before Huey and Louie and offered them a smile.
“Are you really Fu Sheng the Sphinx,” Huey asked, wide eyed.
“I was,” the little monk replied, “a long time ago...”
“Told ya so,” Louie said, nudging his brother with an elbow.
“…Now, I am simply Cheung Fu Sheng,” the monk continued, gesturing towards where the lights of the Moriah Gulch Orphanage had begun to wink through the gathering night, “You may call me Sifu. Come. Let’s get you home and washed. I am sure that your brother will be happy to see you.”
“Dewey?!? You know where Dewey is?!? He ain’t dead?”
Fu Sheng smiled as he looked into the eyes of the boys that scurried along beside him. The tears that fell from those young eyes weren’t born of fear, now… Instead, they were tears of happiness. “No,” he answered, “only sleeping. He’s wondered about the two of you since he came to us…It is by Buddha’s grace that I found you tonight.”
Posted on 2012-08-24 at 15:08:12.
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Topic: Meeting an RDI icon
Subject: I'm Eol Fefalas...
...and I endorse this message.
Posted on 2012-08-23 at 23:52:44.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: LOL
Even Eol doesn't know what Eol says half the time.
Posted on 2012-08-23 at 20:04:02.
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Topic: Meeting an RDI icon
Subject: RDIcon...
...Lake Eerie... Houseboat... Let's do it!!!
Posted on 2012-08-23 at 17:29:42.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: In that case...
...you shouldn't have any problems, Zhou shao jeh. *smiles*
Posted on 2012-08-23 at 15:18:03.
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