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| - It was fairly obvious that he was new to Culara. That fact showed itself in his total ignorance of his surroundings and he was likely to get himself killed. House Holt’s trading posts were the one bastion of civilization on an otherwise uncivilized planet but that didn’t mean all that much, especially to the man watching him fumble his way through the muddy streets. “Frakking tourist." the other man grumbled to no one in particular as he stepped in to help the newcomer. “Are you trying to die?” He slid in behind the newcomer and hissed the question in his ear. “Don’t react. There’s three men behind you with knives-probably looking to take everything you’ve got.” Anyone who recognized him knew his reputation, the newcomer didn't but the harsh whisper was the sort of thing a wise man didn't argue with. This man was Ventrezi he had seen nightmares beyond their imaginations and he had no problem whatsoever with killing. He was just shy of forty but there were a few strands of gray in the sandy blonde hair that hung out from under his wide brimmed hat. All three of these men knew he kept a laspistol in his Grox hide jacket and they didn’t dare make eye contact. He didn't draw the gun but pulled his knife instead,almost daring them to make their move. “Thought so.” He growled at them as they scattered instead. The man who he had just stepped in to save spoke up “Thank you so much. I came here with nothing but dreams of a better life away from the mines on Stentzholt You just helped me keep that dream alive.” He held out his right hand and introduced himself. “Jakob Altheim.” The other man had no interest in shaking his hand or anything else about him but did note the pronunciation- Yah-Kob. “Isadore Stanz. I don't make a habit it helping strangers so next time you're on your own." He stalked off but stopped a few moments later to watch him walk by. It was the soldier in him-the need to know his environment and look for any edge. He guessed that Altheim had everything he owned, including a pick and a shovel in the pack across his shoulders. Though short he was solid muscle barely held in place by a dirty white shirt and short gray woolen jacket. His dark hair and dark eyes didn’t really stand out amidst the crowd but his nervous, twitchy demeanor did. “Guy’s a walking target but that's not my problem.” Stanz grumbled and walked away, his heavy boots leaving deep prints in the mud. House Holt struggled to bring civilization to Culara but so far Culara seemed to be winning, the mountains and forests surrounding The Flatstone Trading Post were as imposing and untamable as ever. Stanz made a fairly good living as a trapper and hunter but there were many others who tried and failed or tried and died, often never to be seen again. He had seen it happen often enough, it was a tragedy when it happened to someone experienced but otherwise it was their bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Almost twenty years in the Imperial Guard had taught him a lot about life and a lot more about death. The strongest lesson was that it came when it came, there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. He had come to Culara as a sort of therapy, to forget all the death he had seen and hadn't been able to change. It was far away from Exile’s battlefields, far away from the cramped cities of the Sector’s planets and nothing but the isolation of untamed wilderness. He trudged through the streets as a heavy fog settled in around the town,nothing unusual there.He just pulled his jacket a little tighter and kept his head down. He did quicken his pace though,he didn't want to get caught in one of the frequent rain showers Culara seemed to be cursed with. He also had no desire to be caught out here after dark, not because he was afraid but he did enjoy sleeping inside when he got the chance. He had the place to do so for the time being, a rented room in a midrange boarding house along Flatstone's main street. It was the sort of place that catered to men like him, A no frills menu with a respectable array of liquors, and stable for whatever beasts of burden the hunters and prospectors used. It was the simple things though, a roof over his head and a warm bed that drew him there. He entered through the stable, stopping for a moment to check on his horse and he passed a pair of Homo Ima Vipera trackers on his way up to his room. He fell asleep almost instantly as the rain started hammering down… Jakob Altheim knew nothing about Culara or Flatstone. He didn’t know to keep moving and not to let his guard down. He set his pack down for a moment, stopping to get his bearings and in the next it was simply gone. With nothing more to do he hissed out a curse and kept walking,hoping for two things. The first was to get away from the sudden storm that reminded him of the home he had risked everything to leave. The second was to get his things back-everything he owned, except for a little bit of money he kept inside his jacket, was in that pack. He sloshed through ankle deep mud toward the only semblance of civilization and order in this disordered, uncivilized town- a solid rockcrete building bearing an Aquila and the crest of House Holt. The uniforms told him that he was in the right place. The blue uniforms and frock coats, held closed with shiny brass buttons stood out amidst the drab browns surrounding them. “Arbites?” “Technically PDF but close enough.” The door guard answered. Altheim didn’t wait for any further prompting “I need to report a robbery. Someone stole all of my things.” “You’re new here aren’t you?” The condescension dripped from the guard’s voice. “Go on in.” He did as he was told crossing onto a rockcrete floor. The interior looked like any office building- gray, drab walls and floors, people at desks working on stacks of paperwork. But as the door guard had said they were the closest thing to Arbites that Flatstone had and so he took note of the fact that everyone was armed. He walked up to the man who seemed to be in charge and repeated himself. "I need to report a robbery. Someone stole all of my things." The man at the desk looked up and called one of his subordinates over. "Take his statement. We'll do what we can for you Sir but I can't make any promises. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" The lead officer's voice was polite but Jakob could hear the stress in it. He just shook his head, trying to be polite in return. "No. I only arrived today." "Then you can stay here. We've got an empty cell we can loan you. It's not much but we'll try to help." "Thank you." He followed the junior officer back to his desk and recounted just what had happened. Jakob Altheim was exhausted after the day he'd had- weeks of space travel and travel through an unfamiliar and unforgiving city left him barely awake. He trudged over to the cell and collapsed onto the cot,sleeping soundly until the next sunrise woke him. He checked his pockets to ensure his money was where he had last seen it and left, intending to hit the streets finding work and/or somewhere to spend the night. Images of rough looking men and women hanging up at eye level caught his attention on his way out the door. He had an idea of what they were since he’d seen similar wanted posters back home. It was another unpleasant reminder of what he'd left behind. “There’s not enough of us to protect the whole planet. There’s plenty of people here willing to do almost anything for some extra money. Governor Holt is willing to pay for their capture so why not?” The PDF trooper's voice was matter of fact but tinged with annoyance,likely at the lack of manpower and funding. “Which one’s worth the most?” Altheim asked with an idea already forming in his mind. “That one. Cedrick Gambell. Real bad guy. Kills for fun. Nine people in one day a couple of years back brought his total tally to twenty three we know about, probably more. We caught him just after he robbed a bank six weeks ago. The Holts are big on law and order so we kept him waiting for a proper trial when we should have just killed him. Broke out of here last week and Killed a friend of mine on his way out. Been waiting for someone to track him down.” “I’ll take the bounty.” The newcomer to Culara replied with almost suicidal confidence. “You are a brave man-Emperor help you. May he have mercy on your soul- and ours if we let you do this…” The anger in the trooper's voice vanished and was replaced by sadness and regret. "You have nothing but your life Jakob... you can start over but this man will kill you without a second thought... Assuming you can even get to him. You're new here, unprepared people die out there all the time." Jakob Altheim was a proud man,a stubborn man who would not give up his dream. "We all die. Not many can say where or when. The whole trip here was a risk,what's one more gamble?" As he saw it nothing to lose meant everything to gain He left with the poster in hand. He didn't know where to go exactly but he found it soon enough, one of Flatstone's many gambling houses. He slapped all of his remaining money down,risking it all one spin of roulette wheel and he whispered a prayer when he saw it start to move. "Emperor protect me, look upon the humble state of your servant and let me be lifted up." The roulette wheel slowly spun to a stop,drawing everyone's eyes to the results. He had doubled his investment,enough to buy him some much needed equipment and food. "Winner! Culara Lucky!" The croupier's voice rang out over the background noise. "Please explain." Altheim kept his voice down not wanting to attract any more unwanted attention to himself. "Culara lucky- once in a lifetime, just a whisper short of divine intervention kind of luck and you sir, just found it." There was something like awe in the croupier's voice. Altheim quickly cashed in his winnings. He had things to buy and it was best he do it quickly before anyone could rob him again.
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