He was just getting into town, that morning. All he heard for the last few miles was the crunch of the soil under Gunpowder's massive hooves. He patted the Clydesdale's shoulder, "There, see? 'Twasn't so bad, now, was, it boyo?" The packed up animal gave a snort in reply.

He kept his eyes on the town, and as they were getting closer, he noticed something like a commotion building. Some people were gathered, and someone else, likely an authority figure, mounted their horse and rode off in another direction. Colm frowned, and muttered to his horse, "I don't suppose they were expectin' us?" He gave a shrug, "Well, whatever the hullabaloo, I reckon we're liable to figure it out, soon enough."

Gunpowder picked up his pace unprompted, "Haha, I agree, boyo; let's get some rest, and we'll sort ourselves out another time!"

He took a nip from his flask as they entered the town limits, and had a look around, to try and get his bearings. He muttered, either to himself or his horse, it wasn't clear. "Hm. Town Hall... Armory? 'll have to ask what [i]that's[/i] about... Saloon... Church... Well, we've toime to explore, don't we?" He patted Gunpowders' shoulder with one hand as the other pulled back on the reigns, "At ease, soldier- there's a good lad." He dismounted, and tied the animal to the rail as it happily dipped it's snout in the water trough. "Haha, I agree, boyo; all this travellin' makes a man thirsty, don't it?" He adjusted his cap, the red clover on top popping against the navy blue fabric. He slung his rifle (sans bayonet) on his shoulder, next to his backpack, and slung his saddle bags over his other shoulder. 

He moved, carrying the load with greater strength than one would have assumed, having aged as poorly as he had. He pushed himself bodily through the swingdoors of the saloon, and stood at the door for a moment. After a look around the room, getting an idea of his surroundings and company, he spoke up, projecting his voice toward the bar, "Alright, then, who's a man to speak to about room and board?"