Logan 'Locke' Fairwind

The saloon doors swung open, grit and sands blowing in from the roads outside, against the wooden floor the ringing click of spurred heels methodically made their way towards the large oak bar behind which a pasty-faced pot-bellied man stood serving shots of Caldiran whiskey.
  "Arturo" a gruff voice called from behind the customer base. The barkeep raised his head, the smile that had just a second graced his jowly face was replaced with a worried scowl.
  "er uh Locke, how erm,... wonderful it is to see you" Arturo stammered as he paced the bar trying to put distance between himself and the visitor. "You made it back I see,... what of the Peyton brothers?"
Throwing a sack on the floor in front of the bar that thudded with the unmistakable timbre of human heads, Logan Fairwind spoke again. "Any paranoid gentleman might think y'all set him up to be ambushed Arturo you red-faced sack'o'shit. Might have something to do with you bein' in league with those child smuggling fucks."
  Arturo nodded, sweat now beading on his forehead "No! NO! Locke, that's not the case" "Basement." it wasn't a question it was a statement. The bar was slowly clearing to allow Locke an open shot at the man, some patrons broke to the sides of the room. Arturo shifted foot to foot his hand reaching slowly towards the underneath of the bar. "Don't try it Art, Basement, Now." The unmistakable sound of hammers being cocked from around the room, inhales and sharp screams going up as patrons shifted out of the Saloon. "You're an idiot Locke, you think I wouldn't have people guarding the place." "Y'think I care?" within seconds of the click click of the hammers pulled back Locke had thrown his coat tails backwards the runes on his coat lighting with a sapphire blue, his eyes seemed to match the glowing scripture as he pulled the talons from their holsters. When all the runes had lit, time itself seemed to slow, Locke could perceive the dust particles that had followed him in on the wind, the billowing of skirts as girls moved to find cover. 2 men, 2 dark elves, 2 dwarves.  
One, left talon, silver bullet, dark elf by the window, right shoulder.  
Two, right talon, iron bullet, dwarf number one peeking over the table he'd taken cover behind.  
Three, 180 degree turn, left talon, silver, dwarf number two still in shock from seeing number one hit the dirt.  
Four, right talon, iron, human snatching girl into hostage position, right eye before spinning her into his arms.  
Five, left talon, silver, dark elf on the balcony under the jaw, through and through.  
Six, right talon, iron, human, down the sights of his rifle.  
  "Now, Arturo... Basement."