Guns of Camelot

Angus raised a quizzical eyebrow at Roland and then at the rifle as he noticed the gem in the forestock. He was aware of enchanted guns and wondered what effects this particular one was meant to bestow, but ever the pragmatist, he merely asked, "Have you test fired it yet?"

He looked up at Roland as though to find the answer in his noticeably blue eyes, and of course found it as only a Gunslinger could. There were other things written into the Gunsmith's face and, taking his absent-minded palavering into account, Angus decided to address them. There was perhaps a world of difference between them, given their professions being the polar opposites of each other - one a creator and the other a trained killer - but both of their lives were centred on the gun and bullet. There could be that level of understanding between them at least.

"As you know," Angus began as he inspected the rifle again. "You can only tell the true quality of a gun by firing it. Sure you could decorate it, mark it, name it, give it a story and such, but in the end, none of all that matters as long as it does what's it's supposed to do, and does it damn well."

Looking up at Roland with a light smirk, Angus said, "Pardon my language. Incidentally, I also came from nothing. A farmstead to be precise, and now, well..."

The Gunslinger's eyes returned to the sunset with an almost dreamlike gaze, as though seeing the past in the light suffused horizon. "Here I am."

At that moment, the three Gunslingers who were talking to the Merlin came out of the workshop. As they left, Angus and Mitchell exchanged a silent nod of acknowledgement, and then one of the Gunsmith apprentices also stepped out to say, "Hey, uh, Roland. The Merlin's, um, making an announcement. Should, ah, probably get inside. Er, hi, Angus."

The Gunslinger gave a desultory wave and then said to Roland, "Sounds like something important."

Landarin chose to present a third kind of payment to the Merlin in the form of a magical artefact from Avalon, a horn able to summon fog. Intrigued, the Merlin accepted and then turned to address John Reduns regarding his business here.

Taking the initiative, Mitchell explained John's situation for him, including the duel with Steven in which the hate-addled Gunslinger had died. Unimpressed with the situation, the Merlin requested John to replace Steven who was meant to guard the refugees for the night, same as Mitchell. The Merlin reasoned that this would help John by serving as an example to other Gunslingers, that those who challenged another to a duel must be prepared to take over the loser's responsibilities.

John accepted, albeit reluctantly as he was unaccustomed with bowing to authority. The Merlin also requested Landarin to join this night's watch, if only for something to do in the time it took the Merlin to find land to give away. Landarin accepted and so it came to pass that he, John and Mitchell were soon on their way to the gates of the city, to patrol the area beyond the walls where the refugees milled about, ready to make camp.

In the meantime, the Merlin returned to the workshop to make an announcement to his apprentices, regarding his palaver with the witch queen of Avalon.

The first thing Mitchell wanted to do after leaving the workshop was to ask Landarin about the horn and any other artefacts he might have been carrying, but that would surely have been impertinent beyond proper conduct. Instead, he turned to John and asked, "So, that worked out pretty well, didn't it? As long as you're on duty, others are going to be less likely to mess with ya. Duels when you're out and about is one thing, but when you're in the middle of a job, well, that's just plain rude."

“Of course,” Roland remarked as he glanced at the sleek design of his rifle. It was quite different than a lot that were placed out on the market, but then again so few firearms were rarely ever customized as this one had been. Many would ask ‘why’ considering that rifles were a ranged weapon, and no one would much ever admire the detail before it would return to its’ holster. Roland just countered that with: ‘why not’.
“I tested it before I added all the detailing- didn’t want to go through all that intricate work if it wasn’t going to shoot straight and true. Because if I had to alter any of it- well then- I would have ruined all of this.” Those calloused fingers ran over the stock with a somewhat paternal grace.

He blinked as he stared at the gunslinger in an attempt to focus on Angus. There was something about the other man that forced his attention to attempt to be drug elsewhere. It wasn’t like looking in those younger gunslingers that he had met at the door earlier, but more so glimpsing at a deeply intricate tale. Roland offered a slight laugh, “well we do all have to start from somewhere. I once tried to-“ but Roland was cut off shortly after that moment. As those aforementioned fresh-faced gunslingers left Merlin’s shop- Roland couldn’t help but to find himself a bit aghast at what was said afterwards.
“An announcement?” Those brows narrowed. “Very well- this is going to be embarrassing.” Roland remarked as he covered his rifle back up and latched the case closed. It was probably a good thing that Angus had held him up- otherwise he wouldn’t have caught this. Whatever this meeting was about had to be somewhat important if the Merlin was gathering everyone in the same area.

“Have a nice evening Angus, and have a good time with your family.” Not that Angus would wait for him, or fail to have a proper evening with his loved ones without the gunsmith’s go-ahead. While the blonde was blunt, honest, and sometimes gratingly so- he wasn’t without a bit of heart here and there. Patriarchal figures that did good for their family happened to be one.
Another one was- well- he needed to apologize to her once he got a chance, and hopefully apply a heavy salve to the wounds he lashed into Meredith before he left.

Slowly he slid back into the smithy and may his way back to his workspace.

John shrugged after the kid finished speaking, He was most likely speaking the truth but nowadays any crazy nut with a guy would like to be able to add John to there list of win duels. "Im just glad to be back were I know myself." It was true he was glad but he felt a mixture of emotions for returning.. But these would not effect him
On his.. Quest.

"Ha, I can- well, no, I don't think I can relate to that, but I think I understand," Mitchell replied thoughtfully. "I think... so, uh, hey, just out of curiosity-"

Where did you go for 4 years? he wanted to ask, but knew how nosy a question it would be, so Mitchell opted for small talk: "It usually rains a lot around this time of the year. You reckon there'll be any storms soon if the weather ain't acting up now? Heck, maybe it's got something to do with the war."

Mitchell looked towards the horizon as though to check. Of course, he couldn't see any sign of the war raging in Avalon (not counting the refugees), but he could see that the sun was really coming down now. He judged that by the time he, John and Landarin got to the gates of the city, the sky would be dark.

As it turned out, Mitchell judged correctly. The three Gunsligners were now standing by the gates of the city where the refugees continued to stream through, and several lanterns had been lit.

Mitchell was nervous as he approached the gate, worried that the two Gunslingers who had accosted Landarin earlier would still be there, but they were not. There was a new pair of Gunslingers guarding the gate and they did not so much as glance at Landarin, but they did glower at John.

They probably saw the duel, Mitchell thought joylessly. His own temperament towards John had lightened somewhat after the talk with the Merlin. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as his reputation had made him out to be, but how many others were going to think that? Not many most likely.

"Well here's our post," Mitchell said as he stepped outside of the gate.

Beyond the city walls, the line of refugees was straight enough as they made their journey across the land, but they were positively crowded by the entrance. The Avalonians seemed a patient and peaceful folk, but they were still eager to be inside as soon as possible. Can't blame em, Mitchell thought as he looked towards the horizon, unable to see an end to the trail of refugees.

"All right, I'll make my patrol on this side," Mitchell said as he pointed to the right. "You two can pick whichever side you like, but remember to keep within eyesight of the walls, that's the rule. Landarin, I realize you ain't from around here, but there's no need to worry. All we gotta do is help out wherever we can and look out for trouble, simple as that. If there's anything serious, you just gotta shoot once in the air and help will come running. Now I think that's everything, so let's get to it."

Without further ado, Mitchell went off to make his rounds. Sure is a lovely evening tonight, he thought cheerfully as he looked up at the moon and stars in the night sky... then shivered in the wind, despite his duster. A bit cold though.

Landarin didn't much enjoy this task that was given to him but he didn't complain as he walked away and began his rounds. The cool air blew his jacket back and forth as he trailed the wall around the city. His thoughts strayed as his job became a mindless task. Slowly but surely his hands slipped towards his pocket as he patted his trousers and his belt pocket mking sure he had all of his belongings. To anybody but himself he may seem paranoid but he just wanted to make sure. After verifying that they were there he went back to his job minding his own business.

As night had fallen, and the river of refugees from Avalon continued on there way towards Camelot, there was one figure that was following them all. Yet it was more at a distance and within the falling darkness that was growing all around. The figure easily darted across the ground, her body lowered slightly towards the ground while her arms were behind her. Her hair, a brown shade, was piled up high on her head. Some strands of it, though, did fall down. The locks blown back from the speedy pace she was going at. Teal green orbs would stare straight head. Her expression a blank one, as the round face of the female continued on the path she was going. Sparrow The Swift, her name she was given by the tribe, glanced over towards the line of people first, then back towards the gate up ahead she noticed. With a slight twist of her ankle, she changed the direction of where she was going towards the right a bit. Sparrow barely made a sound, as she was quickly making her way towards the building.

Although her coloring and pale skin matched like those other Avalonians, the major difference between her and them were her clothing. It was a mismatch of cloths upon her form. Yet her slender and womanly figure could easily be recognized due to the top she wore was a simple one that wasn't really all that modest by others standards. The one other thing about her clothes; they were clearly a Native's outfit.

Sparrow's teal eyes would stare over at the gate and wall of the building for the longest time. As she made her way over a slight out cropping of boulders that were nearby, she decided to run up over them. Her bare feet padding softly with not a single sound, as she hopped from one point to the next. Just as she reached the top, she was soaring right over it.

...and right towards a blonde haired male in a leather duster that seemed to be walking outside in the night. Sparrow's eyes widen, and she only sucked in a breath as she quickly angled her body back. Unfortunately, the way she was going to land, was smack dab onto the male. With his face right at chest level by the time she reached him.

"Only when my shift is over," Angus said after the Gunsmith as he went back inside, and then shortly afterwards, Angus saw his replacement approaching. "Well speak of the devil."

~~~

Meredith heard Roland coming back into the workshop, but didn't turn around to look. She only kept her eyes fixed on the Merlin as he stood by the door to the wizard's tower, calling for everyone's attention. Meredith was still feeling somewhat guilty about making Roland upset and hadn't yet thought of a way to make it up to him. The best she could hope for was the both of them forgetting about it after the Merlin's talk, and then maybe things could go back to normal between them.

When the Merlin saw Roland entering the workshop, he thought briefly of asking where the Gunsmith had been, but that wasn't important right now. What did matter was getting everyone in the workshop up to speed on the war in Avalon and what that meant to the Gunsmiths of Camelot. If ever there was a time when their duties mattered above all else, this was it.

"All right, first thing's first," the Merlin began. "All the civilians from Avalon have been evacuated. The last of them are on their way to Camelot and so far there hasn't been any trouble with them, which is good, but supporting them as well as our own people is going to be a challenge. You all let me worry about that though, I'll be dealing with it myself. As for the situation in Avalon, here's where you really got to pay attention. Write it down if you have to. We..."

He paused to find the right words as he looked at his apprentices. They had no idea how truly dire the situation was. No one did, not even the witch queen herself until it was too late.

"I'll be frank, it looks like we've underestimated our enemy. Our guns in Avalon are already starting to run dry and I've heard mention of Gunslingers making last stands with nothing but swords and knives. Now I've already sent as much as we can spare from here, but it's not enough. Our guys are in serious need of rearmament and we're the ones who'll have to make it happen. That means no more special orders."

He paused a moment to let his words sink in. Meredith in particular felt a devastating loss, thinking about all her half-finished projects and the customer orders she had yet to fulfil, but even this quickly gave way to a rising sense of... panic? alertness? anticipation? She didn't exactly know what she was feeling, but it seemed as though the immediate future had suddenly acquired a terribly daunting aspect.

"No engravings, no enchantments, nothing fancy, just simple guns and ammunition, that's all we focus on from now on," the Merlin continued. "You name it, we make it. Bullets, cannons, cannon shells, Gatling guns, grenades, the works. Whatever you're most proficient at, find others to work with and split yourselves up into teams. I want you all to spread the word to every Gunsmith and former Gunsmith in Camelot and then get your asses into gear. Do not waste a single second, you hear me?"

"Aye, Merlin!" the Gunsmiths all shouted in unison.

"And don't bother with revolvers, every Gunslinger's got one of the bloody things, but they'll definitely need rounds to shoot the enemies with, so let's get to it!"

As all the Gunsmiths scrambled to leave the workshop, Meredith went over to Roland and whispered, "Oh shit, this is serious."

Before either of them could leave as well, the Merlin said, "Meredith and Roland, hold on a sec and come over here. I got a different job for you two."

As Mitchell made his patrol, he tried to stay close enough to the refugees to exchange the odd word with them here and there. "Welcome to Camelot. Not too far now, eh?" he'd say, or, "How was Avalon when you left?" To which some would reply, "I didn't see any fighting, but I sure heard it," and others simply said, "Violent." These Avalonians had no taste for war, but they were stoic enough about it. Even the children seemed quite laconic.

As Mitchell wandered further along the wall, away from the refugees, he heard and then saw someone descending towards him from the sky. A figure wreathed in the darkness of night, so it seemed.

"Whoa!" Mitchell yelped as his hand flew towards the butt of his revolver, but the figure had already crashed into him. He had time to draw his gun and fire once into the air, but by then he was pinned to the ground, his face buried under the weight of whoever it was that came flying out of nowhere. What in the big, blue blazes of Tartarus is going on? he thought in bewilderment as he struggled to free himself.

The silent of the nights patrol continued for quite some while before being broken abruptly by the distinct sound of a gun shot. Landarin twisted around to face the sound and without hesitation began to sprint towards it. Quickly trailing along the wall he pulled his revolver out cocking it.

"And here I thought it was going to be a quiet night," he said to himself as the dirt path ran below his feet.

Rounding the corner he stopped to see none other than Mitchell lying on the floor with a woman ontop of him. Grabbing the female Landarin quickly pulled her off. His jaw dropped as he realized that the woman was a native from America. He took a step back and addressed them both in a demanding tone.

"What the hell is going on here."

Roland offered a glimpse to the Merlin as he entered and then rather sneakily managed to offer a longer glance at Meredith. He wondered to himself when he had become worried about her feelings. They had always been at each other’s throats since their time here, and had always made it well known that they reviled each other in the fashion that most competitors did. Yet to look at her now he felt a whole wash of new feelings cascade over him before withdrawing back into his body. Did he have feelings larger than he realized? Mind you , he did respect her talent and her capability (because there was no denying her ability as a smithy) but he had always thought that to be a downside to being near-about attached to the hip of another person.
Oddly enough he wondered if they would have time after this meeting so he could air out all the odd questions that were currently souring themselves in his belly.

He listened to the Merlin’s spiel as it poured from the elder’s lips. As much as he hated to admit it the Merlin was looking quite taxed these days. It was no surprise given his sudden advancement in ranks with Gunther gone, but maybe he was a bit more frazzled around the edges than he should have been.
Roland’s eyes narrowed as the elder condemned their commissions and forced them to work on quick production of laymen’s weapons. Oddly enough he found a similar reaction in Meredith’s form, and he was at least comforted in the fact that the extra money would be missed by someone other than himself.
Inevitably it all sounded as if they were back in the nitty-gritty wartimes, and they were no longer allowed to strike out to make their name in the gunsmithing world. When he finished- the Merlin dismissed the lot of them, and he felt Meredith creep into his proximity. Roland eyed her somewhat cautiously and then smirked. “I was wondering when this would happen- he is not quite the man of inaction. Though he is getting there- the old age and all.” He dithered on for a moment and then brought his hand Meredith’s shoulder- his eyes pressed against hers. “Look I want to talk to you about something- maybe you can come over tonight?” Yet as Roland was considering that he was throwing caution to the wind- the Merlin made a bold note to call him and Meredith to the side.

The blonde hesitated and dropped his hand before he sauntered over to the elder with a sort of lazy appeal. “Is death creeping up on you Merlin? Are you in need of counsel in your last flickering moments?” Roland jested. “But- ah- in all seriousness- I am here.”

Meredith gave Roland a half-amused sidelong look before turning her attention back to the Merlin, who was eyeing them both with an expression of such exaggerated weariness that it was almost comical.

"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I was you," he said curtly as he opened the door to the wizard's tower. "Now come inside, no one can know about what I'm about to tell the both of you."

The Merlin was already beginning to regret his decision and wondered whether it would be wiser to place his trust in someone else. Perhaps one of the Gunsmiths of his own generation, but there were few of them who were still alive today and they were much too valuable to send away from Camelot. No, Roland and Meredith would suffice. Although not exactly the most shining exemplars of their time, they were capable and suitable enough for the task... or so the Merlin very much hoped.

Upon entering the wizard's tower, the Merlin turned around and said, "Close the door, Meredith, and Roland, go return that book you took earlier to where it belongs. You won't be needing it where you're going."

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what's with all the hush-hush?" Meredith asked as she closed the door.

"You don't need to know, just listen. I need you both to go to Avalon."

The Merlin went to the crystal ball on the pedestal and placed his hands over it. Gradually at first then very suddenly, the ball glowed white hot until its light coalesced into a solid image of an island, viewed from above.

"As you can see, the Goblin King and his army seem fond of burning things," the Merlin said as he marked out a patch of scorched land on the south-eastern edge of the island. "Makes them easy to track, but it's not like that's doing us any favours. Anyway, here is Morgana's castle."

The Merlin jabbed at the centre of the island and then produced a horn from his apron pocket.

"I need you two to go there and deliver this horn to the witch queen. It's from one of the three Gunslingers that came in earlier and I figured it might be more useful at Avalon than over here. Apparently it can control the weather to summon fog, but I have a feeling that Morgana might find a way to get more out of it. In any case, I can only hope that it helps in some way. Here, Meredith, you hold onto it."

Meredith took the horn and turned it over in her hands as she examined it. There were three bands of bronze etched with runes around the narrow end, and the horn itself seemed to be carved out of grey stone, yet it felt as light as wood. There were no other decorations except for the black rim around the wide end, and whether it was paint or part of the material itself, Meredith couldn't tell.

"For now, just get ready to leave first thing in the morning," the Merlin said. "Once you deliver the horn, come back and then help with the munitions production. A war zone's no place for Gunsmiths."

Meredith cocked an eyebrow at Roland and then said to the Merlin, "Okay, seems like a simple enough job. So why do you need the two of us to do it?"

"Insurance. I'd send Gunslingers with you, but there's few enough as it is over here, so if you two run into any trouble, you cover each other's backs. I'm hoping it won't come to that, but better safe than sorry. Now, are there any more questions?"

John was leaning onto a tree trunk he had a roll of smoking tobacco in his mouth as the small embers of flames lit up with each puff. He was relaxing preparing for his patrol before hearing a loud crash and a scream. He immdetailly went into a dash towards the sound reaching Mitchell to see a a Native American style woman laying on him. "What the hell Mitchell!?" He yelled.

Placing the hot apple pie on the windowsill to cool, Rose dusted a bit of sugar and cinnamon on top to melt into the buttery flaky crust. She sighed and dusted off the flour that had been on her hand, against the apron she wore. It was always good to bake. It was even better with the rest of her family there to eat it. As it was, Grandpa Mac and Rose were the only ones at the farm on the weekends. At the moment Grandpa Mac was tending the sheep. His back was better, so he figured he'd do it this time, instead of hiring.

"Sing of the roses..." She sang to herself the song Nuala had made for her.

The song was sung as she cleaned up the kitchen, here and there she paused to concentrate on a stubborn spot, but Rose went on to sing it a few times as she cleaned. When the kitchen was spotless, and not even a red curl of hers out of place, Rose went to the mirror. Oh, her face. It was smeared with four. Before she could wipe it away, a knock was heard at the door. Curious, she went to it, mentally reassuring herself that it was Saturday, not Monday. It won't be Mrs. Finton. So who could be coming to visit?

"Coming." Rose called, as she went to open the door. But then hesitated. Could this be the knock she had always dreaded? Angus...Was he alright?! She grabbed the knob and turned it, opening the door.

Roland offered a polite sigh as Merlin told him to return the book. Of course he had tucked it away in his apron which was currently lying over his workbench and nowhere in reach. While he would be hopeful that the old coot would forget about it- he knew better than that. The Merlin would watch him with hawk eyes until it was filed (alphabetically) back onto the shelf.

The older man called an image to the crystal ball with an effortless ease and Roland felt a pang of jealousy as he still had quite a problem calling forth the simplest of ideals. Either way he remained silent with terse anticipation as the Merlin outlined what they were going to be doing. Apparently Roland and Meredith were to be gifted with a mission outside of the norm for gunsmiths. Immediately he thought to proposition the Merlin to instead send gunslingers, but realized just as swiftly that they were far more useful at Camelot than running a magical errand to Avalon.
And the Merlin reiterated this point quite gravely.

Roland’s eyes fell over the small horn and he seemed almost so intrigued with it that he forgot the seriousness of their meeting. It was a curious but powerful little token. And that of course brought countless thoughts to his head mostly about how the gunslinger had come across such an artifact and more so why it was given to the Merlin’s care. The blonde knew he should have eavesdropped but damn Meredith and her feminine wiles kept him away once again.

“This is quite an undertaking,” Roland stated quite seriously. It was honest that the gravity of the situation settled on his shoulders almost immediately- along with the anticipation to finish it. The only thing he wished was different about the entire mission was that Meredith wasn’t coming along. How was he supposed to prove his worth if the same woman he was competing with also went with him. Of course he realized it was not a competition, but it still burned that he couldn’t allow it to be his shining moment.
“So,” he paused. “Anything else to achieve in Avalon? I know we are short on some supplies because of certain thoroughfares being cut off. Just figured since we are heading that way-“ he dithered off somewhat. “But beyond that I do believe that I don’t have any questions- and you can consider it done.”

"Yeah, what he said," Meredith chimed in as she turned the horn this way and that, examining every minute detail. It really didn't seem like much at all, but she could feel the magical power in it. Nothing impressive when compared to the crystal ball, which Meredith had practised at using whenever she could, but it was something potent nonetheless.

"Hey, be careful with that now," the Merlin said gruffly. "I want you to deliver that thing to Morgana intact. Speaking of whom, there is one more thing..."

Deactivating the crystal ball with a flick of the hand, the Merlin leaned down on the pedestal and rubbed at his eyes as he grunted a sigh.

"Sorry, just a bit tired. Now as I was saying, about Morgana... I don't know if you noticed when you barged in here, Roland, but I'd say that the witch queen must be feeling as worse as I look right now."

As though to emphasize the point, the Merlin turned towards Roland and Meredith, and pointed at his eyes to indicate the bagginess underneath them. Or perhaps they had always looked like that. Roland would certainly have something to say about it, so Meredith thought.

"For some reason," the Merlin continued. "She seems absolutely convinced that only she can handle the magic side of the war. She's refused all offers of assistance and I have no idea what she's been doing or what she's had to deal with lately. When you deliver the horn, try to find out and help in whatever way you can while you're there."

"So, in other words, you want us to spy on her?" Meredith said, squinting her eyes at the chicanery of this whole business.

"No, that's not what I- Look, just deliver the horn, see what you see, do whatever small thing you can to be helpful, and then come back as soon as possible. That's all you have to do, now go and get ready to leave first thing in the morning. We're done here."

The Merlin turned to face the pedestal again and seemed content to simply stand there, rubbing at his eyelids. As Meredith went towards the door with the horn in her hands, she whispered to Roland, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that I made him a bit upset."

Then a heartbeat later, the Merlin said, "And don't forget about the book, Roland."

Martin stood by outside the house, holding onto his horse's reins as he waited for the occupant to answer the door. The horse was a stubborn old thing, always had been, but it was no trouble for the large Gunsmith to handle. Almost as heavy as a horse himself, Martin had little trouble whenever it came to matters of strength.

As one of the older Gunsmiths, he was also fully aware of Rose McNair's relatively new profession as a wool weaver. In fact, Martin had known Rose as an apprentice, though he himself was a late arrival when it came to the world of gunsmithing.

Before then, he was a blacksmith who specialized in making horse shoes and swords. And now he was one of the Merlin's chosen, perhaps closest to becoming his master's successor if experience counted for anything. You should be where I'm at now, Mrs Wesson, he thought.

When the door opened, Martin's immediate thought was that he was correct in his initial assumption, that Rose would have lost none of her once famous looks. Hers was a beauty that had captured the hearts of many a fellow Gunsmith, including Martin's. But that was a very long once upon a time ago, and Martin was well aware of how little chance he generally had with women anyway, except for the ones he paid for in dirty taverns and town saloons.

He looked down at Rose with as much consideration as he would have for any other Gunsmith, which was not much at all, and merely said, "The Merlin's calling all Gunsmiths to help out with the war. We're to make guns and ammunition."

"The Merlin's calling all Gunsmiths to help out with the war. We're to make guns and ammunition."

Rose blinked a bit, then raised her brows. It was Martin. She had known him from since she was an apprentice. Before she got married. On one hand, she was relieved that he was not here to tell her that Angus was shot in some duel. On the other hand, what kind of person greets one at their own door, with out even a 'Hows ya do?'. Rose pursed her lips, and placed a hand on each hip. People really need to learn some manners! With a glint of irritation in her pretty eyes, Rose let her upbringing and motherly instincts take over.

“Martin Cooper, you're just as tart and curt as I remember!” Rose spoke. “What kind of a person comes to someones home, on a Saturday, and just slaps on an order form the Merlin without even saying hello!? Have the flames you love so much gotten to your head? Now let's start over!”

Every once in a while, when her kids displayed a level of misbehavior to evoke such a response from Rose, she'd have them redo the action the way it is 'supposed to be'. Rose would explain the process as she went along, helping the child to redeem themselves. A part of her that was helpful when assisting Gunsmiths who were struggling with a task she knew how to do. Shutting the door, then opening it again, Rose smiled warmly.

“Hello.” She spoke, then told him that at this point, he should say hello. Going on to the next part, Rose said. “Oh, Martin, it's good to see you again. Everything is good I trust?-Okay, now you would tell me what the Merlin wants, and I'd say- Calling all Gunsmiths? I'll have to see what I can do to get over there. I am quite busy, but I understand there is a need. If you would be so kind, tell them I am on my way.”

“See, Martin? Now that's how you greet an old friend.” Rose was not mad in the least, shaking his hand, weather or not he wanted to, she was just momentarily taken aback by his sudden appearance and out of the blue instructions. “If you'd like some, you're welcome to stay for a piece of apple-pie. Grandpa Mac will be coming shortly to have some to.”

Martin remained silent throughout the entire time Rose was speaking. Without any change in expression, he blandly replied, "You have until tomorrow. Work will be at the ammunition factory and I'll be your supervisor. Don't be late."

Then he turned to leave and mounted his horse with all the grace of a falling rock. Martin could not care less about what Rose had to say. He was here to deliver a message and now it was delivered, but he figured that Rose at least deserved to know how things had been since she left.

"There's a lot of fresh faces nowadays. Most of them wouldn't even know about you, but there's still a few who do. Little Meredith Colt has grown up to be one of the Merlin's apprentices, and she knows all about what happened between you and her cousin. The Merlin's getting older these days, and more tired. Someone will have to take over for him soon... it could have been you, Rose."

With those last words, he spurred his horse off on a trot back towards the city. It was then that Grandpa Mac appeared, standing on the path to the house and watching as the ogre of a Gunsmith rode away.

"Who was that?" the old man asked.

At the mention of having Martin as a Supervisor, Rose inwardly grumbled. Who over there thought Martin was a good choice to be a boss? He's too short tempered in her mind, plus he's an ass most of the time. Yet, Rose was polite and nodded in acknowledgment. She thought that was the end of things. Rose was going to turn her attention back to her floury messy hands and face, but then Martin spoke of the 'fresh new' faces. That was a comfort in her mind, until Martin added that Meredith Colt was among them.

Ah, Charles...If Meredith is a true Colt, she'll be as indignant to Rose as the rest are. Charles wasn't too bad, since he had said to agree to be friends with her. Gunsmith's tend to keep in touch, even if Rose was out of the loop, she knew of Meredith. Rose was resigned to be as civil and lady-like as she was able. Besides, it's not like she was getting called over to be permanently reinstated. It's just to help with the war for a while. Rose decided to roll with whatever Meredith could punch.

“...The Merlin's getting older these days, and more tired. Someone will have to take over for him soon... it could have been you, Rose."

Martin just rode off after saying that. How cruel. Had Rose not made it clear to people that she chose her life? Where does Martin come off making that kind of a comment? Rose momentarily wondered what the Merlin thought of her. She hadn't considered his feelings about the whole thing. Rose was too much in love to worry about that. But now it was apparent that she'll have to meet with the Merlin some time, if not soon. Will he be upset with her? Had he even considered her a prospective Merlin? The man was hard for her to read sometimes.

Rose stepped out of the house. Tilting her head in wonder, Rose thought about the idea of it all. Could she really have been the next Merlin? No...it wasn't her vocation. Despite her qualifications, she just wasn't interested in that life. It didn't call to her. It wasn't what she loved. Rose loved Angus, so she married him and not Charles. Rose became a wool waver, and left the Gunsmith life behind. She worked wool as natural as breathing...okay, so it was just as natural to craft guns, as it was easy to weave wool...but who is to say Rose must be a Gunsmith?

"Who was that?" Grandpa Mac asked.

“An old Gunsmith friend. Martin Cooper.” Rose finally spoke, turning to Mac. She dusted herself off the best she could. “Tomorrow I'll have to leave for the ammunition factory. It seems the war is calling on reinforcements of the Gunsmith sort.”

“You will keep an eye on Nuala?” Rose really didn't have to ask, it was a sure thing. Mac nodded, and walked inside with his daughter-in-law.

“Don't ya worry about that Darlin' I'll take care of her while you're gone.” He said, eagerly awaiting a piece of the apple-pie.

“Poor dear, my Nuala. Her father's off to Camelot, and now I'll probably have to live up there to. I can't ride back and forth, it's too much.” Rose got out plates and placed a slice on each one, giving Mac two. Placing a fork in both, she put the plate on the table.

“She'll understand.” Mac spoke with confidence. He took a bite and spoke as only a good father-in-law could. “Nuala won't hold it against ya.”

“Oh, Mac...” Rose sighed. “The reality of this war is setting in for us here. If the Merlin is calling on Gunsmith's like me, we must be in serious danger. The Merlin wouldn't call on us otherwise.”

“Then he's called on the best woman for the job.” He smiled.

“What job? Martin is the Supervisor. I'll be an underling.” Rose sat down, eating the delicious pie. After a moment she spoke again. “If I remember Martin, he'll be watching the clock like a hawk. I'll have to get there early. Earlier than him, I should think.” Rose nodded to herself. That's what she'll do.

Sparrow fell backwards as the other Gunslinger pulled her away, but she quickly recovered with a backwards roll and sprang onto her feet, her eyes wide with alertness. Her first instinct was to prepare to defend herself, thinking that these strange men were angry from the sound of their raised voices. A moment later, she realized that they were only bewildered, and the one she had landed on seemed too confused to know what to do since firing his gun into the air. That shot was terrifyingly loud up so close, and Sparrow knew better than to tangle with three armed men. Simply explaining herself would have been tricky enough, so she took advantage of their confusion to flee behind the boulders she had leapt from. This was not what she wanted to happen at all.

When the strange woman turned and fled, all that Mitchell had to say was, "What just happened?" He still wasn't quite sure what to make of this completely out-of-the-blue encounter. One moment he was walking around on patrol, the next he was floored by a woman falling out of the sky and looking like... Mitchell didn't know what the woman was wearing, but she was definitely not from Camelot if appearance and behaviour was anything to go by. She seemed more like a wild animal than anything else, moving as fleet footed as a spooked gazelle. Mitchell holstered his gun as he picked himself up from the ground and patted the dust off his coat. "We should, uh, probably go after her," he said sheepishly as he turned to Landarin and Mitchell.

The Avalonians nearby muttered among themselves nervously as they moved away from the sound of the gunshot. A few were already calling alarms as two Gunslingers came rushing to investigate. Somewhere further back from the gate, travelling over the last stretch of open land to the city, was a hooded figure in black robes. Every Gunslinger within hearing distance, which was to say only a few, were rushing towards the sound of the gunshot. With none of them nearby any more, the hooded figure grinned as he walked up to a lone Avalonian and whispered into his ear... or so it appeared.

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At first, nothing seemed amiss to the one Gunslinger coming up from behind, who had only faintly heard the gunshot. He had been travelling with the Avalonians since they arrived in the land of Camelot, but he did not recall ever seeing a hooded man in black robes. When had he joined the trail? Furthermore, the man he was whispering to had stopped so suddenly in his tracks that it seemed almost unnatural. The Gunslinger went to investigate and hailed a greeting, but when the hooded man turned around and his face showed in the moonlight, the Gunslinger gasped in horror as he drew his revolver and fired as rapidly as possible.

Mitchell was about to wave off the other Gunslingers who had come running, to tell them that further reinforcements were not required. He was going to follow after the strange looking woman to ask what she was doing, but then he heard five quick gunshots and screaming, SCREAMING in the distance. One shot was an alarm, but more than that was a downright emergency. "C'mon fellas, forget the lady, we gotta GO!" Mitchell said as he rushed towards the sound of trouble.

Multiple gunshots sounded off from afar as Landarin tried to process what was going on. Instinctively he turned towards the news and with a kick of dust he was once again off. What the hell is going on around here. Looking back behind him Landarin made sure that Mitchell was behind him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small fang. placing his hand in front of his mouth so that Mitchell couldn't see what he was doing and as he whispered into his palm the fang disintegrated and flew into the wind. As Landarin ran, not far from the group of gun slingers an echo multiple howls ran through the night air. Not a minute later the source of the noise was located as Landarin spotted a hooded figure.

John head was immediately up as he heard the gunshots, He followed Mitchell his feet pounding on the floor as he removed his six shooter from his holister. He was all to familiar with the gun shots and screaming. His eyes shifted to were Landerin was looking as he to a halt, The hooded figure so far was a enemy to the beast of his knowledge.

When Mitchell saw the man in black, he did not know what to think at first. The robed figure was crouching down beside a fallen Gunslinger, bending over as though to resuscitate him. Just a few metres away was an Avalonian with what appeared to be puncture wounds on his neck. Stabbed twice with a dagger, was Mitchell's initial thought, as the wounds were indeed quite deep.

"What's going on here?" Mitchell said as he approached, his breath puffing in the cold air.

When the man in black turned around, Mitchell saw that he was no man at all. He caught a glimpse of the thing's face

Spoiler

http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs70/i/20...seboy18193.jpg

before it vanished quicker than the blink of an eye. The fallen Gunslinger gasped as though he had been holding his breath underwater for too long, then sat bolt upright as he picked up his revolver, trying to reload it as fast as he could. When he noticed Mitchell, Landarin and John standing around, the Gunslinger shouted, "Well what are you all gawking at? It's a vampire, draw your guns for the love of... SH-"

He never got to finish his sentence as something appeared to rush through him, flinging him high and far through the air. The Gunslinger landed as a pile of shredded meat, the sight of which horrified Mitchell for too many seconds before he gathered the wits to draw his revolver. Just then, the vampire came at him next and Mitchell got the impression of horrifyingly long claws before narrowly dodging a potentially lethal slash.

His Gunslinger reflexes was evidently a match for the vampire's supernatural speed, which gave Mitchell confidence but little courage. "Where is he?" he shouted as he turned this way and that, expecting to die instantly with each passing second. He had never felt so afraid... or alive with adrenaline at the same time.

Martin was on his way back to the city when he heard the gunshots. He stopped his horse for a moment, listening rather than seeing in the darkness of the night. He could see the Avalonians by the light of their torches, and saw some kind of ruckus going on further back on the trail, as far as the eye could see. With a kick in the sides of his horse's flanks, Martin sought to investigate the commotion.

Meanwhile at the farm, Grandpa Mac was thinking of something encouraging to say when he heard the distant crack of gunshots, so faint that they were almost inaudible. The sound was familiar enough in Camelot, but it still made him worry about Rose's safety.

"Sounds a bit lively out there tonight," he said with concern. "Maybe it's best we wait a bit. Surely the factory can wait until tomorrow, short notice as it is. Did that Martin fellow say it was urgent?"

Gunshots made Rose look out the window with unease. They were normally not so close to the house. It sounded like it came from the front of Camelot, instead of within it. Rose noted Mac's concern, but as late as it was, as dangerous as it seemed, she had to do her duty.

"Yes it's urgent...Urgency is not thrown lightly around by the Merlin, Mac." Rose nodded to the Gunshots. "Looks like this more than proves that. I really should go tonight..." Rose looked back to Mac, and sighed. He wasn't too keen on that idea.

"Well...I guess I have things to pack." She mumbled. "And I need to wash up..."

"Alright, I'll head off tomorrow, but I'll be leaving before dawn."

The creature was fast, there was no doubt about that. He couldn't tell exactly what it was but Landarin was quite sure it was not human. As the thing bolted towards Mitchell the gunslinger emptied three bullets, all three of them missing with a thwap as they hit the dirt. Landarin thought about the situation for a split second unsure what to do.

This thing is ridiculously fast. I'de be hard pressed to hit it but spells are out of the question.

Grinding his teeth togethor Landarin thought hard about all of this. The creature gave him no time to rest. Before his thoughts could even organize a set of claws wereheading directly for his face. Swift reflexes brought his revolver up just in time to parry the swing. Sparks flew from the barrel of his weapon and he slid back a few feet from the force. This was his chance. Landarin fired off a single bullet into the night as he grabbed a cloaked arm with his free hand. A shriek echoed through the night as the black robed being burst into flames. Taking his chances Landarin rushed over to Mitchell.

"Get up! Are you hurt?" He blurted out looking over his shoulder watching the creature flail knowing full well it wouldn't be killed that easy.

The events unfolding was something John had seen before, Maybe not in this sense but hell right now they had a vampire they needed to kill. John hand went for his revolver but stopped half way, No this was the job for a blade.. His blade. His right hand crossed over his body removing a thin dark blade from its scabboard on his left hand side. The Vampire was quick as he heard the removing of a deadly bladed weapon, It had a certain aura around it that made the Vampire want to.. Rip John apart in every single type of way. John readied himself, His right foot pressing forward as his left slid back into a neutral fighting stance.

The vampire acting on its blood lust charged John in a blur of motion, John braced himself his stance not caving in as he slid back picking p dirt and gravel as the Vampire charged him Into a tree knocking the window out of him. John reacted in reflex as he brought the blad rip vertically blocking a bite that would have been deadly if it had reached his neck in time. "You piece of shit fucker!" Yell John as he struggled for dominance before jerking all his body mass and power to the right. He rolled as the vampire hand ripped into the bark of the think tree damn near ripping it in two.

It was John turn to be on the offensive as he pivoted his foot letting the blade get a deep knick on the Vanpire calf, The attack was intended to slow the creature down not kill it. It did just that as it howled gibberish to John before kneeling on its knee out of reaction. It was a grave mistake. John was about to lift the blade up to break into its flesh though its heart, He was stopped by it leasing out at him pressing him into the ground. His revolver still in his holister was loosened to make it just available enough to be grabbed, But John was focused on keeping this thing away from his neck using his short sword.

"I'm fine!" Mitchell replied, his eyes wide and his heart pumping. If there was anything he was glad of about the situation, it was that he didn't have to face it alone.

When the vampire went after John next, Mitchell aimed his revolver at the vampire's back and was about to fire until he saw the five holes the other Gunslinger had put there before dying. Mitchell could see that they were exit wounds, right around where the heart and lungs ought to be.

By the time the vampire had John pinned to a tree, Mitchell knew that ordinary guns and bullets weren't going to cut it. A Caliburn Gun would have been ideal for the situation, but there were none around and in lieu of such a weapon, it was going to be a hopeless fight, unless...

"I dunno how you did it, but try to set the thing on fire again," Mitchell spoke rapidly to Landarin. "Do it now, while it's busy!"

Just then, John managed to roll away from the vampire's grasp, only to be pinned again, this time to the ground. Other Gunslingers were beginning to approach now, having cleared away the Avalonians. The first one to arrive immediately fired two near-simultaneous shots at the vampire.

The vampire staggered away from John, blown back by the force of the bullets punching into its body. It looked up at the Gunslinger who fired and let out an angry snarl, baring its bloody fangs. The thing was pissed.

Grandpa Mac sighed with relief as he returned to eating his apple pie. When there were gunshots going off in the night, anyone in their right minds would not wish to be anywhere near them. Besides, it was no business for anyone who wasn't a Gunslinger. Let those duster clad fighters deal with the problem if it didn't have anything to do with the McNairs.

"Probably just folks fending off some wolves," Mac speculated in between chews. "You know how things like that can get, all panicky and such. I remember when Angus was a boy, he had his own special way of dealing with dangerous animals."

The old man fell silent for a moment as he reminisced about the past. Simpler times when his son wasn't a gun toting warrior, or married to a former Gunsmith from a notable family of Gunsmiths. Goodness that had caused a whole heap of drama.

"I don't know where he got it from, it certainly wasn't anything I ever taught him, but it worked devilishly well, it did. Beasts learned to fear him soon enough and he wasn't even a man yet!"

“Hm.” Rose couldn't help but smile. Angus was as sharp minded as a whip against the hand. She could very well imagine a young Angus, bored, going after whatever he could use to lure in the monsters of the forest to come on over. No doubt to just have some fun in his life.

“Right, Mac. And when the beasts did get smart, he just moved on to boxing. How did you guys ever have such a hell-raiser?” Rose tried not to giggle at the thought of that. It wasn't right to laugh, but it was just so funny. Mac wasn't like Angus in that way. Not at all. And here he has a son. “I'm guessing he was quite the shock.”

“I'm glad Ryan and James aren't as wild. Nuala, thank heavens, doesn't even want to have a gun on her. But, in this town...well I think it might be a matter of time.” Rose sighed. It was indeed late and the next morning she would have to get going.

“Alright, Mac. I think I'll turn in for the night. Go ahead and have another piece if you want, but I'll take a slice to Angus. I am determined to meet that man tomorrow.” She smiled.

Rose got her things together. Packing and such. The next morning she'd saddle her horse, Molly, and ride to Camelot before the sun dawns. The first stop would be her sisters house. Jane wouldn't mind in the slightest to let Rose stay at ehr house until she can get over to the Grimm's Manor.

Getting to the factory before Martin was a big deal. It would start off well for her if he saw she wasn't just some silly old wool weaving housewife. Rose was married to Angus McNair, but she was still the Daughter of Thomas Wesson!

Landarin's mind raced with ideas, his eyes shifting back and forth. Mitchell wanted him to set the vampire aflame again but he couldn't risk revealing his abilities. What could he do. There had to be a way to do it without suspicion but what was it. Time was running out just as two wolves jumped through the night tackling the robed figure, biting it over and over.

This was his only chance. Without hesitation Landarin fired his revolver. Following the shot, he cast a quick spell and with a spark a ray of fire flew from his fingertips following behind the bullet and it sailed right into his targets stomach. The fire struck the creature as it trailed the bullet setting it once again on fire and singeing the skin around its stomach. This only made it more angry, demonstrated by the fact that it screamed out once more at the top of its lungs.

"There!" He yelled out at Mitchell as he shook his hand putting out the flame that kindled on his finger tip.

I hope that worked.

As it was, there wasn't much Sparrow could do in the first place. After running away, she had to stop after a few paces to look back over her shoulder. She was seeing if the strange men that were armed still followed her. She knew enough of what her tribe spoke about, that the weapons they held were something called 'Guns'. A dangerous batch they were, she recalled her father telling her before she left on her journey. To be shot with what they had inside, would bring certain death right away. Shaking her head, her teal green orbs soon looked up into the sky, when she heard the sound of more gunfire....and screaming. Part of her instincts bade her to take off once more.

But deep down, that curious and soul of who she was, said something different. Without much of a pause, the female was taking off once more on bare and swift feet.

The sound of a commotion became louder, the closer Sparrow came to where it all came from. When she finally turned around a small grouping of boulders, she noticed what it is that they were fighting. For the first time, the female Native let out a hiss of disgust and hatred came over her face.

"Perversion!!!" She yelled out at the top of her lungs. Her soul recoiled in fear and anger. The creature they fought, Sparrow was able to feel that it was unnatural, and it went against the order of the Spirits she listened to daily. Unfortunately, Sparrow's rash side of her personality showed itself, as she began to sprint towards the undead creature.

Just as a fired bullet went slamming into the stomach, causing it to scream out, Sparrow would jump high into the air. With her legs in a crouching position, she had aimed her right arm up above her, the palm flat and straight. Her eyes blazed, as she bared her teeth while aiming her hand right towards the body of the creature. Amazingly enough, Sparrow's hand would have suddenly slam right through the chest without much problem. How it was done, was more or less her controlling the muscles within her hand and arm, making them almost like stone. And making it possible, that her hand would have stabbed right through the chest of it. The downside of it though, was that it only enraged the creature more, and she had to jump quickly back.

Sparrow was able to dance around the wolves, they didn't even notice her, as if she wasn't a danger to them when she had attacked the vampire. She bared her teeth at the creature, almost acting like the wolves that were fighting against it.

[ SORRY!!!!! DX Finally I was able to fix the broswer so I can post once more....I can't believe explorer couldn't post at all. >.> ]

"I'll remember," Grandpa Mac said as he took another piece of the pie. "And don't worry about washing up, I can see to that. You just rest up for tomorrow."

As he finished eating and licked his plate clean, an old habit that had stayed with him from childhood, he realized that it was likely to be the last piece of apple pie he'd have in a while, perhaps the last he'd ever have. The fact of his old age had never escaped him and, for some reason, the thought of never eating apple pie again was more crushing than knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in many years, he'd be completely alone in the house... at least until Nuala came over and that in itself was a balm.

Grandpa Mac did not much care for the world of Gunsmiths and Gunslingers, but after washing the plates, setting aside the last piece of pie and then going to bed for sleep, he prayed that his family would return home safely. Angus, Rose, the boys in Avalon, Ryan and James, or 'Buck' and 'Scuff' as they were sometimes called, Grandpa Mac prayed for the safety of them all.

The thought never crossed his mind that Nuala would ever be in danger, so he didn't worry about her, but included her in his prayers all the same. It seemed to be all he could do for his family these days and as much as the old man hated it, he'd bear it all as well as he could for as long as he would live. If it was one thing he could be happy about, it was that his family understood the one golden rule of Camelot very well: you had to be tough to survive.

When morning came, Grandpa Mac did not rise with the sun as he usually did. After all, today was the day that Rose was going to leave and for how long, he had no idea. All he knew was that he was going to stay in bed and sham sleep until Rose was gone. He was always terrible with goodbyes.

John lifted himself from the ground, He was literally seeing red, probably from the blood in his eyes. His sword his knuckles were trunkf a deep white from him clenching the blade with such fury. Every muscle in his body screamed pained to him but at the current moment John was only focused on the blasted monster that did this to him. Letting out a primal yell he pushed his body to its limits sprinting towards the creature his legs probably falling to pieces in the inside. He lifting the blade high throwing his body on the beast letting his weight and the sword stab though the monster chest barely misusing his heart pinning him to the ground.

A deep growl escaping his throat John lifting his fist bring it down on the monster lay creature face hearing a surprising crunch as the monster howled in pain from being stuck between John and the ground. John gripped the creature by the underside of its chin and neck his fingers dong into it as he gave a twist with all his night the vampire eyes widen as it howled with pain again. John was intent on ripping this blasted thing head off its body.

He momentarily forgot he and it was burning from whatever Landerin had did eariler. But John held no mind to it even if it did kill him, He wanted this thing head. He slammed its head against the ground once more and testing hearing cracks and that sound if fleshing being tested from each other. The thing let out a weak grapes as John used all his night to twist it's head left from right and jerk it up as a final pop! was heard. It's head was im between johns fingers as it went slack jawed blood pooling under John.

He stood weakly to finally subcome to the strain he went though eariler, letting out a "Argh!" He hit the ground face first the Vampire head rolling from between his fingers pooling in the blood.

Morning was bright and happy for Rose. She was always a morning person, but another reason to smile was the possibility of seeing Angus. It had been too long. Rose made breakfast, but knew Mac would be getting up after she left. It was something she had gotten used to over the years. Leaving Grandpa Mac's plate warm in the oven, Rose gathered her things and saddled Robin. Angus may be happy to see his horse.

"Come on old boy, let's go" She clicked her tongue and off they went.

With as much grace as one would expect from Rose, the beauty rode to Camelot as the sun just peeked over the hills. She rode side saddle like it was not difficult in the slightest. After all she was wearing a dress, and one does not ride on horses with ones legs on either side when wear an outfit like that.

Rose was greeted warmly by most people when she came into the City. It was morning, and whispers were being shared about the vampire attack last night. As much as Rose was worried if Angus had to have helped or not, she was resigned to believe he was doing well. After all, no one was contacting her about it, so that must mean Angus is okay.

"Rose Wesson?" Hilda Hoover meandered on over, following Robin's slow pace through the streets.

"No, Mrs. Hoover, I got married. I'm Mrs. McNair now." Rose didn't like Hilda just as much as Nuala. "Maybe you forgot, so I forgive you Mrs. Hoover, but please remember the next time you want to greet me."

As if this wasn't the thousandth time I told her!

"There was a vampire attack, you know." She ignored Rose's words. "Right in front of the gates it was! What are the Caliburns for if not to keep us safe? Where was your husband? I say, it's no good, no good."

"Yes, you're right." Rose felt a little curt with her. "Maybe I should see to him then? Yes, that's what I'll do, thank you Hilda I'll get right to it. Good day." And with a light tap to Robin, the horse hurried ahead.

Rose was able to get to Jane's house, to set her stuff there for the time being. This way she'd get to the factory early and know her things will be safe. Later on Rose would move over to be with Angus at the Grimm's Manor. Hopefully Desmond won't feel threatened by her, and her role as a homemaker. At the moment, Rose had made her way to the factory.

"Bright and early." Rose smiled to herself, knowing she had gotten there before Martin. Ready and willing, she set her coat on the rack and went to look over what to do.

From a distance, the Avalonians huddled together, antelopes and minnows worried of whatever lions or sharks might still be roaming the dark edges of Camelot, but a cheer slowly cut through the night, rising at the sight of the fallen monster. There were none ungrateful, none more delighted at that moment, and they moved forward in a cautious, but eager tide to congratulate, help and soon finish their long journey by entering Camelot. A small group surrounded their murdered compatriot, family, and soon friends and the sympathetic. A healer moved to check him and others scattered to do what they could, save one.

Two eyes dimmed to gray by what little torchlight mantled about the group watched with piercingly small pupils at the scene. The undead was finally dead. How fortunate they were, but these men… These were wounded and the price had to be fully paid. The lone visitor raised the lip of a high-crowned, up-winged black hat to move the brim out of the way, to get a better look at these men that fought so admirably. Had it been any other thing, this stranger knew that those that breathed even now would have lived, but not now, not against this.

Even Camelot suffered from the gray pestilence. If they didn’t finish the job, their problems would quadruple; all undead, even the new, had to be put down, but they showed no concern to this.

This individual laid a hand softly on another’s forearm and murmured worries of their rejection of death, but the Avalonian only stared, puzzled and wide-eyed. He turned to another, repeating it in question, and they both gave assurances, it seemed. When pressed, they brushed the other away and the outsider backed up. The hat twisted from one mangled man to the next before hurrying off for the mouth of Camelot.

As much as Roland teased the Merlin for being an aged gunsmith- he didn’t much care to be proven right. The way the man’s eyes creased around the edges made him seem older than he was, and for some reason that made Roland’s wily grin soften a bit. “Well she must be feeling like death then- considering the way you look.” He offered.

"So, in other words, you want us to spy on her?" Meredith had stolen the words right out of his lips, and maybe at that mention he let his smile bleed back in just an iota or so. It was apparent that the Merlin- while concerned about Morgana’s health- seemed a bit interested at what the witch queen was doing. To be honest- so did Roland.
“Consider it done Merlin, ole buddy ole pal.” Roland stated with wistful bravado. He then turned with Meredith and shuffled out at the Merlin’s stern dismissal. He leaned in when the woman began to whisper and stifled a laugh. “No Mere- not you- the prodigal daughter.” He paused, “I wouldn’t worry much about it though- I think he is far more frazzled than he lets on and he is letting on a lot.”

As they exited- Merlin’s call for the book made Roland exhale. “Yes yes,” he stated with a paltry wave, and then shut the door behind him. “That man never gives up.” Roland went over to his workbench and pulled out the book from his apron. “So I’ll see you in the morn- bright and early? You want to bunk at my place to make it easier?” He offered a suggestive wink afterwards.

Mitchell stared in opened mouthed horror as he watched John tear the vampire's head off. He had never before seen nor imagined ever seeing something so... so... brutal! It was the only word he could think of to describe what he had just witnessed. In that moment, when the vampire's head was lifted from its shoulders with a gruesome wet noise of separating meat and bone, it seemed to Mitchell that John was the more demonic creature, all covered in blood and gore, and possessed with a berserker's unholy might. I should go help him, Mitchell thought, though he could not help himself as he leaned down on his knees and felt his lunch being to rise in his throat.

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As the other Gunslingers gathered around to survey the scene (some disappointed to have missed the fight), a lone snapping of fingers cut through the night, followed by the soft fwoosh of igniting air as the vampire's body suddenly burst into flames. It scared Mitchell enough to make him yelp and fall back on his arse with a hand held out to shield his face, but the other Gunslingers merely turned around with casual laziness to see the burly Gunsmith who was now amongst them, sitting astride the unluckiest horse to ever bear a rider.

Martin looked at the burning corpse, saw the vampire's head and set that on fire too with another snap of his fingers, then looked at everyone else nearby in turn, his eyes drifting from face to face with cold and silent appraisal, as though examining cheap trinkets in a market stall. His words were curt and minimal, "The Merlin will want to know about this. Everyone involved in killing this vampire, follow me. That includes foreigners."

The Gunsmith turned his horse and began trotting towards the city, making it as obvious as possible that he was not going to wait. "And someone help this guy up," he added as a careless afterthought whilst passing by John.

Though still somewhat unnerved by the astonishing conclusion of the fight, Mitchell went quickly to help John to his feet and support his weight as he staggered limply. "Bloody hell, John, what was all that?" Mitchell murmured as he turned to follow the Gunsmith.