[center][color=black][sub]____________________________________________________________________________[/sub][h3]L i l y "[color=9e0b0f]R E D[/color]" O a k l e y[/h3][sup]____________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] "Find him, bind him Tie him to a pole and break His fingers to splinters Drag him to a hole until he Wakes up, naked Clawing at the ceiling Of his grave" It was a verse Lily had repeated ad nauseam and one she hummed to herself as she rode into the town of Ulysses. The sky was already turning a muddled orange as the sun was setting down across the horizon, casting her twisted shadow across the road. The few people still out and about warily eyed the stranger, but she paid them no heed. In another lifetime, she probably would've been more excited coming to a place like this and seeing so many people; nowadays they were more trouble than worth. Still, Ulysses was different. Ever since the... Event, she had felt a pull in this direction and only now that she had set foot in the well trodden streets of the town, did she know that this was her final destination. You could feel it in the air, like a building tension just waiting to snap and burst open; pouring its vile intentions all over whoever just happened to be around. Whether she was here to stop it, or help it along was another question all together. The brown horse neighed in relieve as he finally came to a stop in front of the saloon, happy to finally get some rest after the many days of traveling the desert. Lily slapped the beasts's neck, wishing she could still feel the sense of familiarity; after all, it had been her father's favorite steed. But no amount of wishing could wash away the feeling of the creature simply being another beast of burden among many others. Irked with herself, Lily turned and headed towards the door; but not before stopping to read the various notes plastered across the wall. Some were old and weathered, the poor printing no longer legible. There were a few fresh ones though, with the first one catching Lily's interest. It was about a farmstead coming under attack. While it lacked any details, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of similarity to what happened at her home. Had the gang of twelve really set up shop around Ulysses? The second poster was of equal interest. It seemed like the sheriff was rounding up a posse to investigate the farmstead. Tearing the poster from the wall, Lily stuffed the piece of paper into her duster. If the sheriff was this desperate to hire on outsiders and riff-raff, it meant it was beyond him and his deputy's control. Pushing into the saloon, Lily felt more wary eyes gaze upon her. The town was on edge, that much was obvious. Ignoring the patrons, Lily made her way up towards the bar and caught the bartender's attention. "A whiskey." She simply stated. The bartender carefully examined the woman before him, she was a stranger in town after all; and with all the bad stuff happening around the place, who knew what she was here for? Lily felt the man's gaze sizing her up before lingering around her throat, where the rather obscene scar was hard to miss. Pulling up her red scarf to cover it up, she glared at the man. "Whiskey." She less said and more commanded. The man silently nodded before fetching her a dirtied glass of liquor. Taking a quick sip while slamming some coins onto the counter told Lily that the swill was watered down to the point where it was barely even whiskey anymore. Still, alcohol was alcohol. "Where might I find the sheriff?" She asked. "I'd like to inquire about the Jefferson farmstead."