NSWRPF Archive High Devil Sands (A Western Steampunk RPG)

Quincy R. Shackleford
Shackleford Estate

In the mid-afternoon, Roderick, now almost ten years old, came running up from the hill behind the house. He clutched his favourite toy, a spyglass given to him by Henry, and called for Quincy.

"Quincy! Quincy!" The boy gasped, stopping when he saw Quincy on the porch.

"What is it, Roderick?"

The boy scowled. "Don't call me that!"

Quincy sighed. "Sorry, Rod. But what's your hurry?"

The boy's scowl disappeared in an instant. "The coaches, Quincy! Like you said, they're all headin' to Hades!"

Quincy frowned. Where'd the boy pick up that atrocious mode of speech?

"Show me. Did you see any riders?"

"O'course I did! Ain't everyone has got a coach!"

"You spend too much time with the help, Roderick. I mean, did you see Henry?"

"I think so!"

***

In hours, Quincy was ready to go.

Lindsey, his cousin, was waiting with her mother, Jessica. Jessica had been adamantly against Quincy's departure, but had given up.

"At least let Winston give you some...help."

"Ah, the firearm kind?"

"Well, yes."

Winston was there, at her side, ammunition in hand. The bullets he held were lare and cruel-looking.

"Magnum ammo. Use it wisely, there's not much. And your claymore's razor sharp. There's not much else I can do, except tell you to go easy on your heart."

Old Quincy had rolled up in his wheel chair, accompanied by his nurse, a young female elf. As his grandson got in the saddle, he called out to him in his gruff voice.

"Robert - bring back my good grandson in one piece, or don't bother returning at all."

Quincy nodded, his mouth tight with anger.

He spurred his horse and rode off.

Tag: Any

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Devils Flask

Ace strode down the stairs into the main saloon area with a signifigant bounce in his step. The first trick to being hung over, was to not let on that you were such. It made you weak, and people liked to kill weak people. Especially in these parts.

He casually strode up to the Bar, where Redorn was helping a person he had seen before, but had trouble placing. Most likely here for the money. Like everyone else...including the "distinguished gentleman" sitting alone at one of the tables.

Ace stepped up beside the man, tossing a few Drachma on the counter. He didn't have much left these days...but it wasn't bad. He'd made a killing on that old sod of a horse, and the Flask was rather low priced in comparison to other places he'd been.

"My usual Redorn..." A bottle of Bourbon "...and a shot of Double Malt for this Gent here." He added, jerking his head toward the man. "If he's like the rest of us he just had a hell of a ride to get here." Ace finished, ignoring what the Dwarve started to mumble.

"Names Ace...Ace Wilder. Gunslinger, Bounty Hunter, and Gambling Afficianoto." Ace said, sticking out his left hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

Tag: Red [peng]

 

Red
Devil's Flask

Red nodded his thanks.

"Much obliged, Ace."

Red took a sip from his glass, and immediately regretted it.

"Name's Red."

He shook hands. This Wilder seemed to be a bit of a character. But it was good to have friends in Hades, and Red wasn't about to complain.

"I hunt."

Red gestured to the Ferguson leaning against the bar.

"I'm in town on business, you could say. Looking for Quincy Shackleford."

Tag: Ace

 

OOC: Sorry folks, but I'm going to have to bow out of this game....

School is upon me once more, and RL will be getting very mean on me quite soon...

As I won't be able to dedicate the time required for this, I'm putting my character in a hold for the moment...

If I find I have time to take this game up again, I'll come back...

Much thanks to KissSpooky for a great game and best of luck to you all!

Hopefully I'll be able to return in a few weeks...

-I_H

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Devil's Flask

"Name's Red."
He shook hands.
"I hunt."
Red gestured to the Ferguson leaning against the bar.
"I'm in town on business, you could say. Looking for Quincy Shackleford."

Ace shook the man's hand, and ignored the slight llok of distaste he had as he took a sip from the drink. Red...he didn't remember the name, but it was a safe bet this guy had hunted him before. As long as they both stayed clueless that was alright with him.

Ace glanced at the Ferguson against the bar, and grinned.

"Shackleford you say...Never heard of 'im. But, I only been here a week or so...I'll be sure to keep an eye out for him. I know what it's like to be lookin' for quarry...people tend to clam up when they find out why yer lookin' for someone. Specially 'round these parts. Fake names and Fast guns are all you'll find in Hade's Secret. Atleast that's all I've come across." He laughed, and picked his bottle and glass from teh counter top. "Let's grab a seat." He said in his voice, a hint of a South-Western Drawl laced in it.

He took a few steps fromt eh bar, and sat at the table directly across from the new guy who sat alone. His palms were sweating. He had the urge to play a few hands...but stopped himself. He couldn't afford to lose his ass this early in the week.

"So, You're a hunter. I got a brother tha's ended up on the wrong side of the law a few times. Jonathan Wilder. Ain't heard of 'im have you?"

Tag: Red

 

Red Shackle
Devil's Flask

Jonathan Wilder...sounds familiar...

Understanding flashed through Red's mind. This was Jonathan Wilder! The scoundrel he'd hunted one or two years back. Red remembered him now. The punk had been quite the troublemaker for him. Red had replaced his old Winchester rifle after Wilder had shot him in the arm, citing range as a key problem.

Red sat across from the gunman, and that old, familiar feeling returned. The weight in the pit of your stomach, and the voice in your head telling you no, don't do it.

But Red had a feeling he would do it, sooner or later.

"Jonathan Wilder - the name's familiar. I believe I have a score to settle with your brother. I owe him a bullet."

Tag: Ace - BTW, hope this is going in the direction you wanted.

 

Vyreil
Inside Quenlaii Medicine

Vyreil stood over her desk wearing protective glasses, she was working on her latest project, right now which happened to be of poisons and weaponry. She had her bow and arrows scattered across the table along with pretty much any sort of substance you could beleive to find in a modern medicine shoppe of magic. Papers, potions, concoctions, spells, poisons, bottles, mixes, books, she was almost what you could call a mad scientist, atleasts thats what you would beleive her to be at first glance.

The shoppe didn't seem to be having a busy day whatsoever, and for that she didn't mind in the least. She preoccupied herself with experiments and tests.

She took up one of her arrows and studied the pointed tip very closely. She carefully lowered it back down to the desk and picked up a bottle of deep greenish-yellow colored liquid. That she aso studied for a second or two. Without looking down at her desk she grabbed, with her free hand, a slender glass tube which had a cork plugged in it. Inside the tube was a liquid that resembled water, but this was no water that could ever quench your thirst. This liquid was called Sharaes os Paer, which was elven for Water of Death. The old legend has it that if you were to become lost out in the desert and were parched from the lack of water, don't drink any water you may find out there, excluding rain water, or you may suffer the consiquences of carelessness. She had searched everywhere in the desert for this liquid, and now she had located a spring just outside of town a few miles away. She had carefully collected a gallon of the water, being incredibly careful not get it on her hands and skin. And now she was ready for her expirimentations to begin.

She pulled the cork out of the tube and held up the bottle in her other hand. She carfully poored three drops of the water into the greenish-yellow liquid. The combination of liquids in the bottle began to change colors where the drops had fallen. The water turned everything it touched into a deep boiling madgenta and soon the entire bottle was that exact shade.

She set the bottle back down to the desk and let it finish its mixing of liquids, and Vyreil carefully put the cork back inside of the tube and set that down also, but her clutzyness overtook her for a split second and the water dripped onto her skin. She felt her hands turning numb, so she wiped her hands off on her work dress quickly, making sure that no liquid was left on her skin, and what had gotten on her skin made her dress stain with the madgenta color. She frowned and looked down at her hands. Nothing appeared to be wrong, they just felt oddly numb.

Vyreil took off her protective glasses and wiped the sweat off her brow with her sleeve. Every single window was opened in the shoppe, but it didn't cool off the inside a bit. It was atleast ten degree's hotter inside than outside. Her shoppe had a tendancy to collect heat, sort of like a green house. She then sat down, staring at the concoction she had just made, and waited for it to settle and stop fizzing.

This was the normal everyday life of Vyreil Quenlaii, making potions, or testing spells, and she thought nothing odd of it and she actually enjoyed it quite a bit. She was just hoping to get some business that evening, and no one seemed to be stopping in.

TAG: Anyone who seems to notice her shoppe

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Devil's Flask

"Jonathan Wilder - the name's familiar. I believe I have a score to settle with your brother. I owe him a bullet."

"Aye...I hear that alot." He replied calmly. If there was one thing he could do, it was bluff...and right now he was doing it. His stomache dropped out from his chest, and his heart raced. His left hand, unseen below the table, rested on the shotgun grip, ready to fire.

"Twin brother you know...cause'd me a bit o' trouble a few months ago. Say I'm the spittin' image of the bugger. Actually, I think he's the spittin' image of me...t'ink he dresses like me to get out of killin's. Course, I wouldn't doubt he'll be showin' up here...maybe you'll get your chance at tha' revenge." He smiled. "But fer now, it's probly best if ya' drink. This place'll start gettin' lively soon...Then the fun starts."

He grinned, hoping that Red would by the load of Grogcrap he'd just dumped.

Tag: Red

 

Red
Devil's Flask

Red's hand, which had been straying dangerously close to his revolver, stopped. This was Wilder, all right. But now that he knew the man, at least slightly, he found that, well, he liked him.

But not that much.

Red's hand slowly went for the revolver at his right side, and gripped the trigger. His holster allowed the barrel to poke out slightly, just enough to fire in times like these. Red aimed at what he hoped was Ace's gut, it was hard to tell from above the table.

"Oh, I think the fun's just about to start."

Red laughed, a rare thing for him. With his left hand, he reached for his drink, and downed the rest, slamming it on the table when it was empty.

And then he pulled the trigger.

Tag: Ace

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Devil's Flask

Fake names only went so far in this town.

He gripped the shotgun tight, as he saw a subtle movement in Red's arm. They way it was strapped to his leg, he was able to fire across the table in the sitting possition, the barrel extending just past his knee, to keep from blowing it off.

"Oh, I think the fun's just about to start." Red laughed as he reached for, and downed his drink. As he brought it back down towards the table, Ace moved into action.

He pulled the first trigger in on the double barreled gun, and with his right leg, he kicked the table so that it would flip over towards Red, and he rolled off to the left, hoping his memory was correct and this hunter was Right handed.

He rolled on his shoulder, quickly leaping up, this time with his cross-draw pistol in hand. His leg hurt, where Red's shot must have grazed him..but between the booze and the adrenaline, he wasn't in much pain.

Tag: Peng

 

IC - Dargo

"Three hundred and five..."

Dargo's first task would be to find shelter. Somewhere to hide out until the time was right to set the plan in motion. The problem with that, of course, was who he was. Many could recognise him if he found a room in the local Inn. His best bet, from all the options on the table, would be to slip inside one of the larger buildings nearby and keep quiet.

As he neared the town centre, using the shadows as cover, a smell drifted across his bearded features.

"Hmm, Elvin poison," he whispered, "Filth it may be, but that could come in handy..."

Spotting an open window, he decided to investigate further and climbed inside. For all he knew, he could have stumbled across a bonus weapon to use in his quest. In actual fact, he was about to fall into a place he never expected.

Dargo evaded an awkward fall and found himself in what appeared to be a back room, filled to the brim with box upon box of chemicals and equipment. Keeping low, he looked out from the crack in the doorway to see exactly where he was...

tag: Fisto_My_Hero

 

Red
Devil's Flask

As the table flipped up, Red kicked out of his chair, and his left hand shot out for his Ferguson, which had since become airborn. He probably shouldn't have leaned it against the table.

He missed the rifle by a foot, and it skittered off beneath a table some twenty feet away, beneath another table. That was just great...

And then he felt slight pain in his left arm. Some of that buckshot must have hit him there; it didn't hurt much, but it would require attention later on.

Red landed in a roll, drawing his knife while he did so. Five shots left in the revolver, better make 'em count. Red stood, throwing the knife as he did so. With any luck, the blade would hit Ace - Jonathan! - in the leg.

As the knife left his left hand, his right hand came up with the revolver.

Tag: Ace

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Devil's Flask

Ace came up, his pistol level at the man, just as he rose. Befoer anything could happen, Red sent a blade flying through the air, and dead into Ace's Calve. Running was now out of the question...not that it was ever an option.

He stayed standing, not letting the pain get to him. Pistol perfectly still, as if he were leaning against something.

"Now Red." He said as the man leveled a pistol at him. "Le's be civillized about all this. Ain't no need fer us to be shootin' at each other jus' 'cause o' some past disagreement. Honestly. What ever happened between the two of us back den ain't goin' on now. And you see...we're in a bit o' a predicament. Whatd'ya to us both puttin' these weapons up and talkin' thin's out? Hell...ain't like I'm gonna run 'r nuthin'. I'm bleedin' out of both m' legs, an' I ain't got a horse."

He didn't move his gun.

Tag: Red

 

ic: Maya Yubari
Demons Flash

Maya walked slowly into the bar carrying a large clock in her arms. The weight was forcing her to lean back slightly producing a quite humourous image. Staggering over to the bar, she placed the clock down with a thud.

"There you go Alora. It was just a bitta' grim in the cogs. But I replaced them anyway... just ta' be sure." Maya said with her hybrid asian/southern accent. "An' don't worry about payin' me, that ones for free. Only took a minute, however you could give me one a' those special whiskies i hear so much about."

tag: KissSpooky

 

OOC: I shall attempt to put Roydon and Lane in a couple of places, if only to have them interact with more than one party.

IC: Bayden Lane/Roydon Crawford, Hades'Secret township.

Lane was off the steamcoach before Roydon had even registered it has stopped moving, the metal of his steel-toed boots scrunching on teh sand below his feet. The black wrap that he wore around himself settled on the beige surface, for just a moment. He panned around, dark eyes squinting between the brim of his black hat and the grey shroud over his face. He could feel the desolation, fear and ugliness of the town around him. In some places it was seeping from the very foundations of the buildings around him, gushing out like water from a brook.

He could sense there were many underlying motivations and factors for people to be in the town, but his own reason was still unclear, almost as black as the shade of clothing he wore, offset only by the shine of polished metal that occassionally shone through from his adornments. Perhaps his attire was almost metaphoric for his reasonings. Beneath his mask, he almost grinned.

The slim black shard of the straight-cane he carried in his right hand hit the sand, the blade of Judgement well within reach, but slumbering in its dark scabbard. Completely unobtrusive in this form, many a foe had fallen prey to the white-hot scorching sting of its blade and most likely, more would, probably some in this town. But for now, it remained locked away, but ready for Lane's call.

Behind him, he heard Roydon fumble as he got off the coach. His halfling cohort grumbled something in Elven tongue (that Lane understood perfectly, despite Roydon thinking he was ignorant of the ancient languages) as he landed awkwardly, but recovered. His brown bowler hat was tipped on his head and his rounded glasses looked a little off centre but he recovered, despite carrying the large form of Deliverance in both hands whilst the gruff-looking dwarf who manned the steamcoach removed Roydon's three or four bags, and the one satchel that belonged to Lane.

"Coachman, where can we find lodgings?"

The dwarf snorted indignantly.

"There's a tavern with rooms around the street, if ye like."

Lane nodded, and produced a handful of coins from his pocket, passing them toward the gruff driver.

"That will do. Take our goods and organise two rooms. You'll find this will more than compensate you."

The dwarf nodded, tipping his cap in thanks as he piled the bags on his back and made his way aroudn the corner. Roydon frowned slightly as he straightened his collar.

"What makes you think he won't run off with our things, or more importantly... MY things?"

Lane flahsed him a stare.

"I read him; the vibe he gave off was defensive, but his heart is just. Besides, he's frightened of me, though he'd never admit it."

Roydon pickep up his umbrella and briefcase. He couldn't blame the dwarf really; Lane was the kind of thing that little kids told horror stories about around the campfire - especially given the things Roydon had seen him do. Truth be known, he was a bit afraid of Lane, or more specifically, the demonic side of him as well.

"Well, what are we doing then?"

Lane spun the cane-blade around and tucked it under his arm.

"Investigating. I'll meet you at the tavern in fifteen minutes. I want a quick scout around."

With that, Lane strode off, the cloak trailing behind him, casting a dark shadow that seemed to writhe like it was alive. Roydon rolled his eyes and sighed. This wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last time that his partner was pulling the cryptic-approach to things. He'd learned some time ago that Lane didn't always explain every motivation that he had, but Roydon was sharp enough to have realised that Lane wasn't often the master of misdiagnosis.

Sighing again, he panned around and decided to head off in the opposite direction of Lane. Strolling at a brisk pace, he noticed a couple of locals eying him funnily as

 

Red

Red's eyes didn't move when the woman carrying the clock entered the saloon. His pistol never wavered, and he kept both eyes on Ace.

"To be perfectly honest, Ace, until you brought up your "twin", I kinda liked you."

He remained silent for a moment.

"So that's why I'm gonna holster my gun, walk over to you, retrieve my knife - which I'm very sorry about, in hindsight - and then help you across the street to the healer."

Red's gun stayed up.

"I'm a man of my word. But if you try anything sneaky, now, the knife goes into your heart."

The gun went into his holster slowly.


Tag: Ace

 

OOC: Sorry to see you go before we've really even gotten going, I_H,
but I understand. I'll keep your character around as an NPC for a while if
you feel like/have the chance to come back.
Otherwise, great posts everyone. I'm gonna catch myself up here (though I'm
gonna rearrange things just a touch so they flow better).

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Demon's Flask

Maya walked slowly into the bar carrying a large clock in her arms. The
weight was forcing her to lean back slightly producing a quite humourous
image. Staggering over to the bar, she placed the clock down with a thud.
Alora quickly excused herself from the desperado she was having trouble
keeping his hands off her and made her way over to the pretty human girl.

"There you go Alora. It was just a bitta' grim in the cogs. But I
replaced them anyway... just ta' be sure." Maya said with her hybrid
asian/southern accent. "An' don't worry about payin' me, that ones for
free. Only took a minute, however you could give me one a' those special
whiskies I hear so much about."

Alora could only grin. "Oh, bless you, Maya, you're a marvel! Only the gods
know what Sullivan would have said if he'd come in here and the clock wasn't
working. One of the special batch coming right up!" Going behind the bar,
she kneeled down for a secret cuboard, grabbing a dusty bottle. Elves
weren't typically known for making whisky, but every now and again, a bottle
could be found. And when it was, it was treasured.
Standing back up with a generous amount of the liquid, looking like pure
gold, she handed it to the young mechanic. "Now careful with that, Maya.
Don't drink it too fast, or you'll end up seeing faeries, whether there are
any around or not." Alora said with a wink.

And then it happened. The all too familiar sound of a dispute, then a
scuffle, and finally gunfire. Alora sighed and said an elven curse under her
breath. "Couldn't these people let an hour pass without it coming to
violence, just once?" she asked rhetorically, looking at Maya.

Meanwhile, not twenty feet away...

Doc had been watching the whole thing, partially amused, partially annoyed. These types of arguments wasn't really anything new to him. Normally in these towns, right about now the Law would be kicking in the door, either asking the men to calm down, or forcing them to. But somehow, Doc doubted that'd be happening any time soon.

It had started out civil enough. They'd both seemingly noticed him, the shorter one even eyeing the deck of cards he was holding. He was definately a player. In hopes of encouraging a game, he started playing with the cards. The pair had gotten the table next to him, the tall man with his back to him (Red, he'd overheard), with the other one facing him (named Ace...or Johnathon...or both). Then they started talking, more and more. They remained civil...but there was an undercurrent of...something. These boys definately knew each other. When their hands moved slowly under the table, Doc rolled his eyes, but had eased his hands to his guns as well...one never knew how these things would go.

Then it happened...Doc had to admit, the boys were pretty fast on the draw. In a flash, the table was being kicked up, and several guns were going off. Doc pushed his chair back as the table flew, knocking Red's rifle away and hitting his own table, spilling his drink, which annoyed him some. By the time Doc looked back again, "Ace" had a sizeable knife in his leg, and each man had a pistol drawn on the other. This was getting to be a bit too much too soon. Quickly and quietly drawing his shining double action revolvers, pointing one at each man. Luckily, it looked like he wouldb't have to shoot anyone...at least not yet.

"Now Red." Ace said at the man leveled a pistol at him. "Le's be civillized about all this. Ain't no need fer us to be shootin' at each other jus' 'cause o' some past disagreement. Honestly. What ever happened between the two of us back den ain't goin' on now. And yo

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Devil's Flask

"To be perfectly honest, Ace, until you brought up your "twin", I kinda liked you." Red replied. He remained silent for a moment, before continuing, "So that's why I'm gonna holster my gun, walk over to you, retrieve my knife - which I'm very sorry about, in hindsight - and then help you across the street to the healer."

Red's gun stayed up. "I'm a man of my word. But if you try anything sneaky, now, the knife goes into your heart." The gun went into his holster slowly.

"An' I'm a man of mine." He said about the holster his own weapon, when the card shark spoke up.

"I think that's an excellent idea, gentleman. Truly excellent." He was silent for a moment to allow both men to see him, sitting there, cross legged, gun leveled at each of them.

Rather than holster his weapon as he was about to, he moved it to face the man, his gun picking a prime taget on the fellow.

"I do appologize for the intrusion, terrible manners I realize. I just couldn't allow this to continue. I realize this is a private affair, and likely has some history behind it, but really, can your differences really be as bad as to require each others lives? Do you know what people call that? Ridiculous." Taking half a second, Doc glanced at his table and his spilled drink, trusting they'd follow his view. "Almost as ridiculous as someone willing to shoot a pair of cultured gentlemen such as yourselves for spilling his drink."

Ace steadied his hand, and put his gun up in a showier way than the old man, before turning back to Red.

"Gim'me a hand ol' buddy?" He asked with a grin, as he started to limp towards the door. That Doc fellow...he was a short lived son-of-a-ord if he kept that up.

Tag: Red, Doc

 

Red
Devil's Flask

Red nodded, then laughed.

He walke dove rto Ace, and pulled the blade out as gently as he could. He wiped it clean, before helping Ace across to the healer's.

He turned, tossing a small sack of coins to the dumbstruck dwarf at the bar. Picking up his Ferguson, he joined Ace outside.

"I'll pay, friend. Consider our score settled."

Tag: Ace

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Outside Devil's Flask


"I'll pay, friend. Consider our score settled."

"Aye...settled it is then." He said, throwing an arm around the man to steady himself as they walked. "You're pretty fas'...but you lack style 'n my opin'on. T'is shotgun does alot more damage then yer pistol will from under the table, and the first thing you should'a done was kick the table over. It block the other's shots a bit, and allows you freedom to aim during the suprise. 'Course, tha's jus' me."

The two stepped into the Healer's, taking a quick look around, Ace tapped a bell on the counter top.

"An' another thing. Ya should always have a backup plan. Jus' in case." He said as they waited, raising his right arm, then flicking it out, his Derringer suddenly appearing in his hand. "They ain't much, but if you get tha' jump on som'ne, they work jus' as well as tha' pistol." He remarked, before returning the pistol to it's holster up his sleeve.

Tag: Healer, Red

 

Red
Quenlaii Medicine

"Style? My friend, your priorities couldn't be more skewed."

Red turned to face Ace.

"As good as that Derringer may be at close range, it's best to make sure you don't have to use it. Your shotgun, your six-guns, your Derringer...the way you're loaded up, it's as if you're expecting them to get too close for comfort."

He hefted his Ferguson in front of him, showing it to Ace.

"Now this, this...this is the best rifle around. You want to kill a man proper, you aim for his head, and pull the trigger. You want revenge, now, that's where it gets interesting."

Red looked down at the rifle in his hand.

"Guns are...impersonal. The final battle between you and your rival must be an honourable one, regardless of the other man's behaviour. One-on-one, blades and pistols..."

Tag: Ace, Vyreil

 

Vyreil
Quenlaii Medicine

Vyrie looked up from the poison she had just created when she heard a crash in the back room. She quickly got up out of her seat to see what was going on? Something had probably fallen off one of the shelves and broken. She was about to open the door to the back room when she heard foot steps in the front of the store.

"Hello? Anyone here ?"

She quickly decided that what ever had happened in the other room could wait until her customer left. She left the back room unattended and made her way out to the front counter.

"Coming, Coming." She said somewhat annoyed that she had an interuption from what she was working on. "Welcome. May I help you with something? She said as she rounded around the corner, wiping her hands off with a dry rag.

Only a few seconds later two other men stumbled into her shoppe. One of the men had a horrible wound on his leg. "What happened? Is he alright?" She asked the man who seemed to be supporting the other. She made her way around the counter and grabbed the injured mans other side, helping him into the back room. She cleared the table of everything that was sitting on it and helped him up onto the tabled.

"Lie down." She said pushing slightly on the man's shoulder. "This may hurt a bit, but I need to have a look at how bad this might be." She said with a serious but kind tone in her voice.

TAG: Kartanym, Kai_Halicon, Darth_Vaders_cousin, Penguinator-176

 

IC - Dargo

Uhoh!

Dargo quickly hid behind a set of canisters as things began to heat up outside. He hoped that, in some way, all the commotion would become an advantage to his cause, but knowing him they'd hunt him down on sight. Straining, he looked around to find an exit. The only available way out was the same window he came in. Problem was, it was a little too high for himself to reach, let alone pull his heavy frame upwards.

Instead, he decided to wait it out. The apparantly young doctor was down to business while the three visitors gather around.

Hurt? Ha! So fickle a body, those blasted humans he thought to himself as he peered out.

tag: Kai_Halicon, Darth_Vaders_cousin, Penguinator-176, Fisto_My_Hero

 

Red
Quenlaii's

"Yes, well, he was stabbed in the leg. Oh, and shot at."

Red removed his jacket, rolling up his sleeve.

"And would you mind looking at this, after you've seen to him?"

Red was amazed to see that the wound wasn't as bad as it could have been. It would still need help, but he felt a wave of relief pass over him. Now that the standoff was over, the adrenaline had finally stopped pumping through his veins.

Tag: Vyreil, Ace

 

IC: Ace Wilder
Quenlaii Medicine

"Style? My friend, your priorities couldn't be more skewed."
Red turned to face Ace.
"As good as that Derringer may be at close range, it's best to make sure you don't have to use it. Your shotgun, your six-guns, your Derringer...the way you're loaded up, it's as if you're expecting them to get too close for comfort."
He hefted his Ferguson in front of him, showing it to Ace.
"Now this, this...this is the best rifle around. You want to kill a man proper, you aim for his head, and pull the trigger. You want revenge, now, that's where it gets interesting."
Red looked down at the rifle in his hand.
"Guns are...impersonal. The final battle between you and your rival must be an honourable one, regardless of the other man's behaviour. One-on-one, blades and pistols..."

"And that's why I don't carry mine around. Don't mean I ain't got one...jus' means I don' like usin' it. Pistols...Knives...now them are nice. You can see your oponent...you rely on skill not range. Tha's how a gunfighter plays."

"What happened? Is he alright?" She asked the man who seemed to be supporting the other. She made her way around the counter and grabbed the injured mans other side, helping him into the back room. She cleared the table of everything that was sitting on it and helped him up onto the tabled.

"Yes, well, he was stabbed in the leg. Oh, and shot at."

"Lie down." She said pushing slightly on the man's shoulder. "This may hurt a bit, but I need to have a look at how bad this might be." She said with a serious but kind tone in her voice.

Red removed his jacket, rolling up his sleeve.

"And would you mind looking at this, after you've seen to him?"

"Well I'm glad to see you care about me." he said in a disbeliveing voice. "I'm liein' here, bleeden' to death...infected with the blood o' what'ver ya killed las' and you're worried about a bit of buckshot." He said, as the woman tore open his right pant leg to look at the wound. "An' now I ain't got a pair o' pants." He said with a grin.

He looked at the else attending to him, and the other person in the room, who had migrated to a back corner.

"An' hun, when yer done lookin' at tha' leg, take a gander at the other. Dead-Eye there grazed me with a Forty-Five an' she's bleedin' pretty good."

Tag: Red, Vyreil