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Historical Earth The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly: A Spaghetti Western RP

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Ramza, Jan 11, 2010.

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  1. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 7
    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/man_with_no_name_blog_a.jpg]

    Once Upon a Time in the West?

    ?When the chimes stop,? the bandit said, ?pick up your gun.?

    ?Look, pal? er? Indio, was it? You don?t want to do this,? said the Confederate soldier, as he nervously eyed his revolver, which was on the ground three feet in front of him.

    ?Ah ?ah ?ah, the chimes,? Indio replied, staring at the locket the sound was coming from.

    ?$200,000 in gold, all yours - just let me live!? the soldier nervously blurted out, as perspiration rolled down his forehead and across his eye patch.

    ?$200,000? I somehow don?t think you?re carrying that much, Lieutenant.?

    ?It?s not on me ? but it is in a cemetery. I can tell you where.?

    ?Oh really, where is this cemetery??

    The Lieutenant hastily informed Indio.

    ?Interesting. But, a thought occurs to me,? Indio replied, as the chimes began to soften.

    ?And that is??

    ?If I kill you, I don?t run the risk of splitting the money.? The chimes stopped. ?Time?s up, Lieutenant.?

    The bandit drew his gun and fired, laughing madly as he did it.


    Welcome to The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, a game inspired by Sergio Leone?s classic ?Man With No Name Trilogy? and westerns in general. It?s 1865, the Civil War has begun to draw to a close, and your character will be one of the many individuals who have set out west to make their fortune, and that?s precisely your objective ? to get rich, or die trying. How you choose to do so is entirely up to you.

    A Fistful of Dollars ? Earning Your Fortune

    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/3310e4z.jpg]

    ?You'll get rich here, or you'll be killed.? ? Juan De Dios

    Your character?s primary objective in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is to make money, and lots of it. Specifically, your goal is to become the first player to earn $100,000 ? or to tie with someone else. Yes, unlike in many other RPs, someone will walk away from this game a winner ? the rest? well, undertakers need to earn a living too, eh?

    That being said, there are many ways to make your fortune:
    • Bill Carson?s Gold ? Somewhere in a cemetery out west sits $200,000 in gold, more than enough to instantly skyrocket you to victory. Details and clues to its location will emerge as the game progresses. As $200,000 is precisely double the amount you need to win the game, it might even be in your best interest to team up and share the reward, and victory. But be forewarned - $200,000 is a lot of money, enough to kill for. Which brings us to?

    • Bounty Hunting ? Approximately once a week, the sheriffs? offices will post a list of bounties worth various amounts of money. The more dangerous the criminal, the more you?ll earn for them. Take note ? NPCs won?t be the only characters with prices on their head.

    • Crime ? The second-oldest profession in the world remains one of the most profitable. Robbing banks, holding up stagecoaches, train robberies, even outright killing and looting are all valid ways of making your living. Killing NPCs and PCs to take their money is allowed. Of course, wanted criminals have a tendency to show up on bounty listings?

    • Gambling, and Assorted Odds And Ends ? Feel free to come up with other methods by which to make a living, so long as they make sense within the game ? mining on asteroids, for example, is right out.

    Il Buono, Il Brutto, Il Cattivo ? Resolving Conflicts the Old-Fashioned Way

    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/ilbuonoilbrutto.jpg]

    ?When you have to shoot, shoot, don?t talk.? ? Tuco

    An untamed, rugged example of all that is beautiful about America, the West is, naturally, a hotbed of violence. Death is an all too common occurrence in these mostly lawless parts, so pay attention if you want to survi/>
  2. Darth_Noctis Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    Jan 5, 2010
    GM Approved

    Name: Johnny "Blue Eyes" Gold

    Gender: Male

    Age: 27

    Appearance: Fair skinned with a face that he likes to keep clean shaven, though often circumstances will keep him from being able to do so which results in dark stubble. Has a short black haircut that he keeps beneath a black suede leather hat, which matches the rest of his darkly colored attire, boots included. He is famous (or infamous) for his piercing blue eyes, which many a man have barely caught a glimpse of before being met with a bullet from his gun, The Cold Stare.

    Inventory: The Cold Stare - A black revolver with a hilt made of solid gold, The Cold Stare is Johnny's personal weapon of choice. He also carries a back-up revolver and a knife holstered on his waist. He rides a black thoroughbred named Julie.

    Class: Ugly

    Personality: Most men who have met Johnny Blue Eyes claim that he possesses a borderline psychotic mindset, willing to shoot any man dead without a second thought or hesitation. The women, on the other hand, are mesmerized by his charm and way with words, though many of their husbands have fallen victim to The Cold Stare.

    Biography: Son of the notorious bankrobber Tommy Gold, Johnny Blue Eyes had a penchant for the illegal from an early age, being taught by his father how to kill a man before reaching his teenage years. Johnny's mom left him and Tommy when he was ten, and so he had no choice but to grow up tagging along with his father and the famed Golden Gang on their bankrobberies all across the West.

    Johnny's first kill came at the age of eleven, when a sheriff had his father cornered in a saloon. After that incident, Tommy Gold gave his son his most prized possession, The Cold Stare, a notorious black revolver with a solid gold hilt. From that point on, Johnny became a full fledged member of the Golden Gang, killing any who got in his way and wooing any woman he took a liking to.

    When Johnny was 19 years old, his father died of the fever, and the Golden Gang scattered from there. Ever since then, Johnny has been riding through the west on his horse, Julie, collecting money anywhere he can find it.
  3. Kahn_Iceay Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Mar 5, 2006
    star 5
    Name: John McAllister Jr
    Gender: Male
    Age: 35
    Appearance: Image
    John's pretty clean cut, keeps his face shaved when possible, his hair naturally parts in the center if not disturbed to much.
    Inventory: Smith & Wesson Model 1 Revolver (side holster of course), Shotgun (saddle holster), Spencer Repeating Rifle (other saddle holster), Bowie Knife (belt)
    Horse, Saddle, about 20 dollars on person.
    Simple survival kit: Matches, coffee pot, coffee beans, metal pot, small supply of hardtack (cause he actually liked it as a ration when in the army)
    Class: Ugly
    Personality: John has a thing about governmental authority, and authority in general. He's not fond of it. He's got this idea in his head that governments should have little or no say in what people do with their lives. To this effect he's got this rough care free attitude about him. He's serious about what he does, but not necessarily concerned with what people in authority think about it.
    Biography: John's the son of a rancher in Texas. Per his usual point of view he didn't really care about the greater happenings of the country till the secessions happened. When Texas joined the Confederacy John joined the army the year after, not cause he thought the South was right, but because He didn't think the North had any purpose telling the South what to do. That and he was drastically looking to get away from his fathers Ranch. Now as you might expect of a man who dislikes people telling him what to do he just loved the Army.

    John almost instantly regretted joining the Army but wasn't in much of a position to do much about it. In 1863 under Lieutenant Richard Dowlin, John was assigned to a fort at the mouth of the Sabine River. Come September the Union came down on his area in what would be known as the Second Battle of Sabine Pass. In the battle a detachment of over 5000 infantry and support came down on the Fort. Now John's not a coward, no he was more then welling to kick the Union all the way back up to Virginia. But his detatchment of the 1st Texas Heavy Artillery at the fort was outnumbered a hundred to one artillery not withstanding. John might not be all to wonderful with math but he could se a hopeless situation, and coward or not, as sure as Cotton grew in Texas he was not about to sit by and die.

    When the bombs started falling, and all hell broke out John took to prolonging his life and went AWOL. Dumping his Army uniform for some less conspicuous clothing He made his way North of Sabine Pass. Going through Huston he picked up supplies and made his way north into New Mexico Territory where he managed to make a life as a cattle hand, taking from his childhood on his fathers ranch, till 1865. Taking leave of his current life John headed back south into Texas when he caught wind of a stash of Gold. Seeing no reason why he couldn't claim said gold for himself and finally get the hell away from the damned war John was more then ready to get his hands more then a little dirty to do so.
  4. s65horsey Otter-loving Former EUC Mod

    Member Since:
    Jun 24, 2006
    star 7
    GM approved!

    Name: Madam Rose
    Gender: Female
    Age: 45
    Appearance: [image=http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/11340.jpg]
    Without the feather in the hat
    Inventory: carries a pouch full of cigars and cigarettes, small knife tucked up her skirt
    Class: Good
    Personality: Bubbley, protective, always scheming to find a place in a man's world
    Biography:
    Rose traveled to South Texas with her husband Ray looking for treasure. Ray was killed 20 years ago and Rose didn't have the money to make it back to Tennessee where the two are from so she carved a place for herself in the west. She took over an abandoned building and started taking in stray females who found themselves lost in a male dominated society. Rose built up a business of providing for the needs of men who traveled alone to find fortune. Because of the nature of the business, Rose and her girls do well. The men always tip and information tends to flow through the girls and Rose to other travelers. You never know what secrets a man will tell during the heat of the moment, but Rose and her girls sure do and they don't forget it.
  5. Penguinator RPF Modinator and Batmanager

    Manager
    Member Since:
    May 23, 2005
    star 6
    Approved!

    Name: Quincy Borden, AKA The Professor
    Gender: Male
    Age: 32
    Appearance: Of an average build and with fine clothing that has seen better days - an old frock coat from his act, heavily scuffed riding boots, leather gloves fraying at the wrists, and a dusty bowler. His hair is wiry and prematurely graying, and his skin is rough and unevenly tanned. He wears a beard and mustache beneath a once-broken nose and black spectacles on top out of habit.
    Inventory: Two Colt Peacemakers (Single Action Army) with fine filigree engraving. A breach-loading shotgun of similar quality is kept in a holster on his steed, the lean Methuselah. Borden carries with him at all times six decks of playing cards, a pair of loaded dice, and lockpicks.
    Class: Ugly
    Personality: Haughty and cynical. Theatrical and melodramatic at times.
    Biography: Once known as the Professor in his heyday as a working illusionist in London, Borden's success took him across the pond to America. It was in America that he fed his gambling habit, mastering card games only after losing every penny he had. Forced to peddle his tricks in saloons and cheap bars, he wound up down south, Lord knows how, after a particularly bad hand with a man named Joe. What small fortunes he'd earned after his failure were lost again and he drank his way down to the tail end of the country, unsure what trick could possibly pull him out of this trap.

  6. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 6
    GM Approved!


    Name: Thomas "Tommy" Lidge
    Gender: Male
    Age: 28
    Appearance: Tall and lanky, Tommy has a crop of shaggy brown hair and piercing grey eyes. His chin sports stubble most of the time and his nose is crooked from one too many fistfights. His attire consists of a stetson hat and a long, tan duster. He wears a holster slung low at the waist.
    Inventory: Two 44 Colt Revolvers (one hidden and one resting in holster), pocket knife, survival gear stashed in saddle bags, rope, playing cards & cigars and extra ammo & gunpowder
    Class: Bad
    Personality: Arrogant and cocky, Tommy has learned to trust very few people in his travels. He's very skeptical of people in general and has no love for law enforcement officers or the army. As far as he's concerned, they are all wrapped up in everything that has gone wrong with the country. All that concerns him is his greed and getting his hands on anything to make himself rich and he will do whatever is necessary to reach that goal. His life pretty much revolves around money at this point. Still, Tommy has a dry sense of humor and a witty tongue, providing a good time to those who are lucky enough to get to know him.
    Biography: Thomas, or Tommy as he would like to be called, grew up on a farm in the heart of the Texas plains. His father, a hunter and farmer, was quick to teach his son skills of survival at a very young age while his mother, a Christian woman and homemaker, often disapproved of her husband's actions and quite frequently stated that he was too young. These frequent disagreements soon escalated into full-blown arguments, which sent a big rift through the Lidge family. It wasn't until Tommy's father got wind of the gold rush out in California that things really came to a head and the family split.

    Determined to make himself rich and to leave the life of a simple farmer behind, Mr. Lidge took his only son and set out for the mysterious land known as California, effectively leaving his wife to raise Tommy's sister alone. During their journey out west, Tommy picked up many skills that would later assist him in his own travels, including shooting a gun, riding a mount and the basic how-tos of wilderness survival. But that wasn't all he adopted. His father's greed and volatile attitude towards the government was quick to rub off on the boy and the disease would only spread as he grew older.

    But unfortunately, the duo would never make it out to the land promising them wealth and a new life. Somewhere in the heart of the American southwest, they were tracked and ambushed by a local Indian tribe. Tommy was lucky enough to escape with his life, but his father was not so lucky. Given the opportunity to save his father from certain doom, fear overtook Tommy and he froze. He chose the coward's way out and ran, never hearing from his father again and uncertain of his fate. Apparently, his father had taught him well - all that mattered to the young Tommy was saving his own hide.

    Now with his confidence shaken and feeling that he wasn't ready to make the journey home alone, Tommy wandered the wilderness until he stumbled across a small town nestled within the rocky valleys of Utah. Here, he was taken in by a prominent stableman who offered the young man food and shelter in exchange for his labor. It was hard work and the wages were essentially non-existent but Tommy had found himself some honest work. But the work was not the only thing keeping him around. The stableman was also watching after his niece, Lydia, and as Tommy grew, the more he took an interest in the young woman and the two were soon involved in a relationship together right under the stableman's nose.

    Months passed and when Lydia proclaimed that she was pregnant, the two had no other choice but to marry, much to Tommy's dismay. Although they had settled on a small ceremony and kept things fairly quiet, Tommy still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of being married at the age of 18. After only two weeks, he abandoned his new wife a
  7. BartSimpson-SithLord Manager Emeritus

    Member Since:
    Jan 24, 2002
    star 5
    GM Approved!

    Name: Layne Burns
    Gender: Male
    Age: 37
    Appearance: Stands at 6'1 with auburn colored hair that's been a little bleached by the sun. His stern chin is covered in stubble constantly while he has a knife scar that goes from the left edge of his lip all the way to just outside his left eye. His eyes are a deep jade but seem full of sorrow. His clothing is usually a stetson hat, chaps, leather boots with stirrups, denim jeans, a blue canvas shirt, and a red handkerchief around his neck so as to wipe sweat and dirt from his face. He has two holsters at his hips.
    Inventory: 2 Remington 44 revolvers, a Spencer Repeating Rifle, lariat, bowie knife, matches, American Quarter Horse (Hope). Hope carries: Tent, pots, pans, food stuff, bedroll.
    Class: The Bad
    Personality: At one point, Layne was a man at the top of the world. He had a loving family, and while he had done some things in his past that he was not very proud of, he was happy; content. That's all changed now, his face is one of sorrow and longing. His features seem to suggest great loss and the search for answers. He is a bit of an alcoholic, turning to the bottle whenever really stressed. He doesn't have a temper, just a deep sadness about him. Beneath this sadness lies a simple determination to do something about what his life has become. Revenge? Moving on? Whichever path Layne takes, he has a burning will to see it through.
    Biography: Young Layne Burns was born on a cold March morning in 1828. His conditions were very well off as a young child. Henry and Dawn Burns, Layne's parents, had been fortunate enough to be members of the Old Three Hundred who purchased land grants in Texas from Stephen F. Austin. They had set up a plantation upon their land and were soon far more wealthy than they ever were in the old United States. They owned slaves who did most of the work, allowing for Henry to spend his time making powerful friends and Dawn the time to focus on raising their family. In 1930, Dawn gave birth to the second and last, of Henry Burns' children: Clement. Everyone called him Clem, and he quickly became loved by everyone in the family, including his prideful older brother. Layne and Clem were inseparable as children. They would play all around the plantation.

    Their world would quickly begin to change, however, as war with Mexico was brewing in late 1835. Layne, now 7, watched as his father and Uncle joined the militia in order to fight for Texan independence. A part of his was proud of his father, the soldier, fighting for what he thought was right. But a part of him, the part that understood what death was from a miscarriage his mother had suffered the year prior, was worried he'd lose the strong foundation of his life. The fear in Layne was playing havoc with young Clem, and so Layne put on a brave face for his younger brother's sake. It paid off, as both Henry and Kevin came back alive. Kevin had even met a nurse when he'd been shot in the thigh. To celebrate his coming vows, Henry invited his brother and his new wife to stay on the estate. They built a new house, just as grand as the main plantation mansion, a few hundred yards from Henry's house. Together with his wife, Kevin Burns became a mainstay in Layne's life.

    Life in those eleven years until the Mexican War weren't all happy, though. Kevin's wife had died giving birth to their only child, Sheldon. The tragedy had hit the family hard had left Kevin as the only guardian to Sheldon. Layne and Clem were all too happy to bring Sheldon under their wing however, and the three grew up very happy and content with life. Kevin, however, was a shell of his former self. He turned to alcohol, and escaped the pain of losing his wife. When the Mexican War became something of an increasing concern, Henry went back to war, with the now 18 & 16 Layne and Clem behind him. They joined the U.S. Army. Henry quickly became an adviser to some of the higher ups, his wealth and former experience on Mexican Soil was invaluable. Clem served in the Hellis
  8. NukeEmFromOrbit Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jan 2, 2010
    GM Approved

    Name: Gabriel ?Duke? Duncan
    Gender: Male
    Age: 28
    Appearance: Dark clothing, prefers to be clean shaven. Wears his revolvers high on his hips, reverse style.
    Inventory: 1853 Model Sharps .52-caliber, Two Remington Model 1858 .44-caliber Revolvers. White and Rust Mustang Stallion ?Seraphim"

    Class: The Good

    Personality: Duncan always thinks things through, never acting prior to planning things out if he can. Wherever Duncan goes, he seems to attract trouble, and sooner or later someone always tries to outdraw him, but so far nobody has succeeded. He is compassionate to a fault, and has somewhat flexible Moral code. Duncan has been known to hire out his guns from time to time, and has held up a stage or two, but is considered by most to be a decent man. Naive where women are concerned, he often seems like a shy schoolboy when facing a pretty girl.

    Biography: Duncan was born on a plantation in South Carolina on May 27, 1837. While he was growing up, his father's farm was one of the stops on the Underground Railroad, and he learned his shooting skills protecting the farm with his father from slave catchers. Duncan was a good shot from a very young age and recognized locally as an outstanding marksman with a pistol.
    In 1855, at the age of 18, Duncan moved to Missouri, following a fight with Chase Talon, who drew down on Duncan over a matter of his sister?s honor. Duncan proved the quicker and the young Talon was dead before he hit the dirt. Chase?s brother did not take it well. Being as they had been friends he let Duncan go with the warning that if they should ever meet again one of them would not survive the encounter.
    Duncan joined the Confederate Army at the out break of the war. While not holding much like to the idea of slavery, Duncan liked being forced to do something even less. In 1861, Duncan formed a cavalry company and was elected its captain, leading them into battle at Wilson's Creek. Duncan led his "Iron Brigade" of Missouri volunteers on what was to be the longest cavalry raid of the war at that time. He was promoted to Colonel on December 15, 1863, at the successful conclusion of his raid.
    In 1864, Union General Steele's failure in the Camden Expedition can in no small part be laid to Duncan?s brilliant and determined harassment, though in concert with other Confederate forces. Ultimately that Federal force was forced back to Little Rock upon the final destruction or capture of their supply trains at Mark's Mill. Reassigned to the Clarendon, Arkansas area, Duncan accomplished the rare feat of capturing a Union tinclad USS York, which was immediately destroyed to avoid recapture. As summer was ending Duncan then commanded a division during General Nathan's Missouri raid. He distinguished himself at the battles of Little Pale River and Westport, and captured many Union held towns.
    After the Confederate Government collapsed Duncan went west. He shed all attachments to the fallen Confederate States, viewing General Lee?s surrender as a betrayal. Out west he hopes to make some money and eventually acquire some land and start a family.



  9. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 7
    Local Authorities in Collaboration with the Mexican Government and United States Marshals Have Posted The Following Bounties

    El Indio (and Gang)
    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/elindio.jpg]
    $50,000 ? Dead or Alive
    Recently escaped from a New Mexico federal holding facility. Last seen fleeing south across the border. Should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.

    ?Frank? (and Gang)
    [image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a7/Henryfonda.JPG]
    $25,000 ? Dead or Alive
    Last seen in or near Flagstone. Wanted on charges of assassination and property damage. Should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. (Rumors of possibly dangerous associate with harmonica remain uncorroborated until further notice).

    Clem Burns (and Gang)
    (No Photo Available*)
    $10,000 ? Dead or Alive
    Last seen in and around the Mexican ? American border. Wanted on various charges including murder. Should be considered armed and dangerous.

    Tuco
    [image=http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp39/darthramza/tuco.gif]
    $5,000 ? Dead or Alive
    Last seen in Paseo del Oeste following robbery of a general store at gunpoint. Wanted on numerous charges including murder, rape, evading execution, and using marked cards. Should be considered armed. (Reports of an accomplice remain uncorroborated until further notice).

    Thomas ?Tommy? Lidge
    (No Photo Available*)
    $1,000 ? Dead or Alive
    Last seen in or near Flagstone. Wanted on charges of armed robbery and alleged murder. Should be considered armed.

    Johnny ?Blue Eyes? Gold
    (No Photo Available*)
    $1,000 ? Dead or Alive
    Last seen in or near San Miguel. Wanted on various charges including murder. Should be considered armed.

    TAG: ALL or NONE

    GM Note: Here?s the current bounty information. Expect a proper tag either later tonight or tomorrow, and then the game begins!

    *: Noticed either yourself or a character from your past on this listing? Feel free to submit a photograph for? um? law enforcement purposes. Certainly nothing to do with aesthetics. Nope.
  10. blubeast1237 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2007
    star 5
    GM Approved.

    Name: London New York
    Gender: Male
    Age: 23
    Appearance:
    [image=http://vowelmovers.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/james-francopreview.jpg]
    Inventory: Horse, a rifle, revolver, and rope.
    Class: Bad
    Personality: London New York is a sly devil. He loves women and money and has all the tools to get both. Very charming, he is a manipulator, but will not hurt anyone unless it is for personal gain. He?s laid-back and relaxed.
    Biography: London New York was born in the east and ran away from his parents, who are rich and are still looking for him. He did not like how his parents and the people around them put so much value on material things instead of enjoying life. So he hopped on a train and rode all the way to the west, and when he couldn?t ride anymore, he walked. However, as the west is harsh, London New York needed money and food, so he turned to bounty hunting and crime.

    His mentor, a man named Robert Handle, was a cowboy. He ran a farm and he was old and took London New York on a whim and a hunch that the boy was worth more than what he brought. London New York helped around the farm and eventually was taught how to defend himself in the west: with guns. Turned out that Robert Handle was ?Charlie Boy? Hennen, a wanted and well known stage coach, train, and bank robber and murderer. Robert had figured out that the life was not what he wanted anymore and that he wanted to settle down. He tried to, even found a wife and had a son, but they were killed by bounty hunters. He killed them and then relocated again and changed his name. Robert Handle then saw in London what he had once been, a lost boy who was only a couple of steps away from being a fugitive street kid.

    He taught London New York everything he knew about the west, but avoided telling him about his robbing days. London New York would soon find out when he discovered one morning Robert with his head blown off by two bounty hunters. London fought both of them, trapped them in the house, and then burned the house down with them inside. He was hurt by Robert?s death and wandered into town, where he learned that someone had betrayed Robert?s identity to the public. Leaving out some details, London New York took credit for killing Charlie Boy Hennen and the two bounty hunters, feeling that Robert would want him to continue his legacy, which is exactly what Robert wanted to prevent. London New York now rides through the west trying to build a name for him.

  11. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 7
    Paseo del Oeste ? A Westward Stroll

    Paseo del Oeste was a west Texas town perhaps most notable for being somewhat mundane. Save for that odd fellow who had shown up a mere two days ago and robbed the General Store, most of the folks there were polite, hardworking types who had gone out west to make an honest living.

    Needless to say, it was dull as hell. Still, if there was any excitement to be had it would have happened in the saloon, and that is precisely where our focus will now turn.

    Tom?s Saloon and Casino was your typical semi-seedy frontier town joint. Lot of boisterous noise, smoke, darts, and insults being thrown around, tackily painted walls in garish colors, women of loose moral fiber, men of still looser moral fiber, drink, gambling, more drink, and yes, the occasional drink.

    Seeing as he was a man who enjoyed a few beverages in his day, it should come as no real surprise that one Layne Burns was on his second double of the afternoon, having come to the bar for reasons entirely his own. He had a sort of rough cowboy image to him, which he pulled off quite well and ordinarily kept the riff raff out of his hair.

    However, it seemed that the man sitting next to him, more of a young punk, really, hadn?t gotten the memo. ?You look,? the kid said, taking a sip of his whiskey, ?like a vaquero gone positively anglo, you know that? Crazy stuff ? crazier than that rumor about the gold. Did you hear about the gold?? Of course Layne had, seeing as this very youth had told him about it several times, but that wasn?t going to stop the fellow. ?There?s this guy, Bill Carson, right? And somewhere out in New Mexico he buried somethin? around the order of $200,000 in pure gold ? course, the guy was a browncoat officer, probably some useless Confederate money in there, too, bloody rebs ? and then he goes yammering off in a bar in some boomtown called Flagstone, leaves, goes missing. No one?s seen him since. Ca-razy stuff.?

    Poor Layne. But let us now turn our attention to the other end of the building, the poker tables, which as usual were crowded by an assortment of low-stakes lowlifes who had a tendency to get far too drunk before they lost all their money, which made them far too suspicious of the winning party, which in turn made them trigger-happy hooligans. Not that this was stopping the oddly dressed newcomer from proceeding to win his fourth hand in a row at gin, despite having had more than his fair share of some foul-smelling brew that ordinary men would have been pressed to finish a single glass of.

    Granted, this man, Quincy Borden, was nearly as adept at holding his alcohol as he was at gambling. And granted, he was playing quite fairly. Not that that didn?t stop the losing party from shooting him an accusatory grin. ?Sure seems funny, a man winning four hands in a row,? the loser, by his appearance a disheveled drunkard who had clearly failed to notice just how gnarly and dirty his mussed up - apparently black somewhere under all that grime ? beard and hair were. ?A lesser man,? he continued, ?would accuse you of some gaming dishonesty, Prof. But me, I?m a diplomat at heart. And I also figure you?ve got to lose at some point. I?ve got some great information in me ? I?m gonna? put that on the next game. And if you win, well, sometimes talk gets cheap.? There was a clicking noise from under the table. ?Dig??

    TAG: Bassil, Peng


    San Miguel ? Two Bosses is One Too Many

    On the outskirts of town, as John McAllister rode in on horseback, he swore he heard a bell ringing ? which was odd, seeing as it wasn?t on the hour as far as he knew, and seeing as San Miguel (a moderately sized place south of the Mexican ? American border) certainly didn?t strike him as being particularly dangerous. Hell, between the dirt roads and the architecture, it had a sort of cliché western charm. It was about this time that he rowed past the hearse/>
  12. Penguinator RPF Modinator and Batmanager

    Manager
    Member Since:
    May 23, 2005
    star 6
    Quincy Borden
    Paseo del Oeste

    The haze of alcohol didn't so much truncate Borden's abilities and actions as it did focus them. When one had consumed too much alcohol, one would invariably begin to notice a blurring of the extremities and a vague sense of tunneling vision. The object at the centre of one's point of view remained in eerie focus - the periphery didn't matter, and motion flowed uninterrupted from thought to action. There existed some delay and a vague feeling of being an outside observer, and yet Borden didn't mind.

    Because these things didn't affect Borden like they affected other men.

    The peripheries did not diminish half as often as he'd have liked them to.

    His opponent was by far drunker. Whiskey did that to a man, and it did it quickly. Borden had downed a few two-ounce shots not too long ago, and they were currently causing a bemused grin to form on his face. Borden hadn't been cheating this night but now he almost wished he had been. Cards were easy to count. Bluffs were easy to call and easy to make. Far too easy for a man with his skills and talents.

    The only problem now was that his hands were above the table and his gun was at his hip.

    Borden's right hand began to play with a coin on the table.

    "It would seem, sir, you've played your ace, so to speak."

    The coin spun idly on the surface of the stained table, controlled by one finger.

    "I've aces of my own to play; plenty, old chap, and far more sinister."

    The coin stopped suddenly and flipped onto the back of Borden's hand.

    "It's the simple things that get you."

    The coin rolled along his knuckles.

    "We never pick up on the simple things. I made a life out of it."

    The coin disappeared into Borden's palm.

    "A very, very good life. One I intend to return to after this foray into presumptuous folly."

    He turned his hand around, closed in a fist, and let loose his fingers.

    "I am a liar by trade."

    The palm was empty.

    "I am, pardon me, damned good at it, old boy."

    The fist closed and opened, and two coins now danced on Borden's knuckles.

    "You see, magic is easy. The impossible is easy. To disappear is easy. To call things to my hand is easy."

    The coins rolled about idly on Borden's hand.

    "We call it sleight of hand. Misdirection."

    The coins dropped to the table.

    "I make you see what I want you to see."

    The coins spun and clattered.

    "Ignore what I want you to ignore, like how I'm not holding my cards anymore."

    The sound of a Colt's hammer clicking was heard.

    "And how I've had a gun pointed at your balls for the past two minutes."

    Borden smiled coyly.

    "Your bet, sir."

    Tag: Ramza
  13. s65horsey Otter-loving Former EUC Mod

    Member Since:
    Jun 24, 2006
    star 7
    IC: Madam Rose

    The wind blew through one of the cracked windows causing the faded green curtains to ripple behind a woman standing before them. The female in the room didn?t pay any attention to the simple occurrence that happened daily in Flagstone. Her green eyes were searching the town, looking for something and yet nothing at all. People milled about the small town going about their daily routines stopping at the country store to pick up a few food essentials or having a drink or two at the saloon. As much as her job was to take care of the girls that worked for her, she was also expected to be well versed in rumors and happenings of the people in the area. She made sure to know everyone in town by name so that she would be able to know when a stranger showed up.

    Which is exactly what she was looking for now. She had spotted three strangers earlier in the day and was intrigued by the one whose face was never shown. He had been completely covered up. Men never did that here. Sure sometimes they had bandanas to keep the dust out of their nose and mouth, but this was different?it was like he was hiding from something.

    The door to the establishment opened. Madam Rose slowly turned from the window and greeted the man who had stepped through the door. His rugged good looks she knew well as he was one of the regulars to her business.

    ?Good afternoon, sugar!? She called out as she always did to the customers. ?The usual??

    She continued on without waiting for a response, a woman who knew her customers. ?I?ll have angel meet you in room 10 in a few minutes. I do hope you brought us some goodies. I don?t know what we?d do if you didn?t spoil us.? As she talked, she slipped the money he?d put on the counter into her cleavage with a wink.

    ?Oh Rose, you wound me with the thinking that I wouldn?t continue to treat you as I always have.? He produced a flower seemingly out of nowhere and touched her nose with it. She gave a flirtatious giggle and took the flower.

    ?Thank you, sugar, now you just run along upstairs. You know I run this show now.? She waved her hand towards the hallway for emphasis. This handsome man always seemed to want her, but she was done with at. Save for special men of course. A woman did have to see to her needs.

    As she watched the customer walk off, she wondered what the rest of this day might hold and found her thoughts once again turning to the strangers who came to town.

    Tag: Ramza
  14. BartSimpson-SithLord Manager Emeritus

    Member Since:
    Jan 24, 2002
    star 5
    Layne Burns
    Paseo del Oeste


    The haze of dirt, smoke, and sand slowly clung to the air like the loose women within to the men. The writhing mass of dirt and smoke collected inside of the saloon, snaking its way around the building and into the eyes of each patron and employee. The little light that could get through the door was drowned in a sea of black shadow as the walls seemed to blanket any sunlight that dare shine its light upon the activities within. Where black didn't reign supreme, the walls in their peeling paint of greens and reds and golds, provided an ornate, if not brazenly tasteless, atmosphere to the location.

    The assault on the eyes was nothing compared to the one on the nose, the smoke, sweat, dirt, and alcohol was everywhere. The lungs burned before the mouth ever had a chance to experience its first swig of alcohol. The women with their perfumes and the men who hadn't bathed in weeks, met the senses in a nauseating display of odor. In this saloon, one could tell a man by the tobacco he used, the regulars anyway. With the haze hanging in the air, smell might be the best communication of identity the patrons had. The air was so thick with the differing odors, everyone could tell who the newcomers were. They were the ones who coughed, choked, and, sometimes, even vomited upon entering the place.

    It wasn't just the smell, either, the air was so thick you could taste it. It lingered in the back of your throat, inviting you to cough. It was stale and burned, like some of the alcohol served at the bar. The gunpowder a person knew everyone carried permeated the area. The metallic taste of blood from the gums of those with little hygiene, and the varying tastes of cigars and liquor. Some drank their drinks with ice, some ordered fancy mixes, but the most abundant taste was little more than 100 proof alcohol. Whiskey, mixed with gunpowder or chewing tobacco in some cases, flowed in abundance.

    The feel of the glass upon his lips was followed closely by the burn of the 100 proof sitting warmly in his glass. Layne Burns had found out young that some liquor tasted best when sitting at room temperature or warmer. The liquid flooded over his tongue, warming his body in more ways than one, as he drank his second glass of the day in one gulp. The wooden bar gave a loud thud against the glass as Layne brought his arm down, leaving the empty glass upon the surface. As he pulled back his arm, a little grime that had settled atop the bar wiped away on his coat.

    The sounds in the saloon were a boisterous symphony of screams, yells, grunts, and shouts, as something was occurring over in the more gambling oriented area of the business. One could get lost within the white noise of the crowd, drinking alone while the world passed them by. This was precisely Layne's intentions, maybe scan the conversations close by for news of his brother, but the true motive had been to just pass the day away with his old friend, whiskey. The propositions, shots, challenges, orders, all of them were like a great classical symphony played with the orchestra of the voice.

    Today, however, that most atmospheric of locations, that symphony of sound, the bitter mixture of taste and smell, the grime and grit of the tabletop's surface, and even that hazy shade of black permeating the bar, all of that was being disturbed by the bright light of personality sitting next to Layne. Burns brought his own cigar up to his mouth and inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet, yet spicy, flavor that flooded his mouth so quickly after the liquor. It was almost like wiping the slate clean, readying himself for his next drink. Meanwhile the newbie, some young punk stating the obvious regarding his clothes and occupation, continued to ramble on and on about the same topic. Gold.

    This was the last time, Layne decided, as he turned his jade colored eyes to the young...boy. Layne determined, noting the relative lack of real alcohol in front of the kid, matching his excitement at the prospect of talki
  15. blubeast1237 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2007
    star 5
    London New York
    -San Miguel


    Hmm?London only cocked his head to the side at the dead guy, and then shifted in his seat, so as he could better reach his pistol if the situation called for it. This ?Blue Eyes? Gold was quick in the holster and the fact that he killed someone at the mere mention of his name meant that he was jumpy and brutal. He was a guy that did not even want to be recognized. Normally, London would be leaving now. However, money was not something London had a lot of.

    And that $1000 sounded really good to him right now.

    London New York?s main interest at this particular junction was to chase down the next train out of here, pick up some valuables and cash and make his way back cross the border before anyone knew who and where he was or had gone, respectively. But opportunities like this did not present themselves every day. There was a $1000 dollars sitting over at the next table in dark clothes and a smooth leather hat; and London New York was not willing to let this opportunity get up and walk out without even giving it a shot. What kind of man would he be if he did?

    This man could not be snuck up on, so London would have to face him. He had been in duels before; this would be another one. Though?never seen a gun pulled that fast. Shooting an unarmed man without provocation or warning was one thing; killing a prepared adversary was another entirely. London New York was the latter. London pulled out one of his pistols and fired two shots at the man?s back before overturning one of the tables and positioning himself behind it. He shot once more before grabbing the chair that he was seated on and launching it at the man, then pulled out his second pistol and got back behind the table.

    It was on!

    Tag: Noctis, Ramza
  16. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 7
    Paseo del Oeste - A Westward Stroll

    The left eye of the man seated across from Quincy Borden noticeably twitched, precisely twice to be exact. His right arm wavered almost imperceptibly. "You're pretty damn cocky, Prof, you know that? I've won more than my fair share of quickdraw fights, I'd be more than happy to win this one. Tell you what -" He took his left hand, grabbed a nearby scrap of paper, and quickly scribbled something on it before placing it, face down, in the pot. "That paper there? Got that secret I mentioned. We're going to play this hand - and if you win, well, we'll just find out who's gun is faster." He talked a mean game, but there was a small amount of perspiration that began to drip down the top of his forehead.

    Taking a draw on his cigarette, he reached over to the deck, dealt out five cards to both himself and Borden, and took a look at his hand. He bit the lower part of his lip - a tell Borden had picked up on earlier in the game, a telltale sign of a bad hand, discarded three cards, and replenished his hand. "How many do you want?"

    Things were easily becoming about as dicey at the other end of the saloon, as the boy next to Layne Burns found himself having to choose between a fifth of a hundred proof bourbon whiskey and a Remington .44. The bartender, who readily provided a bottle of straight, wasn't really helping him out, either. "Alright, alright, take it easy vaquero, no need to get violent," he replied, picking up the bottle. His tone was a decidedly unrelaxed near squeak, a whole lot of inexperience catching up with him in a short amount of time. "I'll drink. I'll drink. Watch." He popped the cap off, and began working his way through the beverage. He got through about a fourth before his eyes began to widen and water, and he pulled the bottle away with a gasp and a grasp at his throat as he gagged for air and a relief from the burning sensation.

    "Augh... uh... oh..." He glanced at the Remington. "Oh ****."

    TAG: Peng, Bassil


    Flagstone - Keep Your Loving Brother Happy

    The covered man sat in the chair opposite the bed in his room at Madam Rose's place, smoking on something appeared to be a cigarette. But, somehow, the girl in the bed got the feeling that it wasn't. The man reclined in his chair as the smoke wafted up into the air above him. "You know," he said, his voice half-thick with a spanish accent, "I'm not..." He rocked the chair back to its feet. "I'm not entirely sure why I let them talk me into..."

    He seemed to space out for a few moments. Probably not a conventional cigarette, the girl decided. Still, she had an obligation to her clients, and she crawled over to the edge of the bed. "First time?"

    The man took a few more moments, and another drag on his "cigarette," before replying. "No, no..." He sat almost perfectly still for what seemed like a full minute, before reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, gold locket. "Just that, the last time I..."

    Another pause.

    "Don't worry about it." He flicked the locket open.

    "Well, I'm not just being paid to keep you company, I'm... well, okay, poor choice of words, but..."

    "A-ah-ah-ah-ah," he said. "The chimes." They both sat in perfect silence as he waited for the chimes to stop playing. The girl found them lovely, but was somewhat confused as to just what, exactly, was going on.

    "That's a lovely melody," the girl said.

    "... You think so?"

    "Yes."

    "Hmmph," the man replied, with another pull on his cigarette. "This was a mistake."

    "Oh, now, don't take that -" Her sentence was cut off as the man produced a gun from beneath his robes. "What... what are you doing?"

    "The last time... the one I mentioned earlier? The girl shot herself. With. This. Gun."

    "Okay, pal, I don't know what kinky **** you usually get into but -"

    From down below, where Rose was standing, there could />
  17. NukeEmFromOrbit Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jan 2, 2010
    Duke Duncan
    Flagstone

    The whiskey was bitter, but he drank it anyway. The memories dulled a bit as the foul liquid burned down his throat. All that death and destruction had left its share of scars on his soul. He had been fighting for what he believed in, not slavery even if that was what the others were fighting for. No he hated slavery; he had helped his father get slaves to safety long before the war started. It was the taxes, and the embargos, the North dictating who they could and could not sell their cotton to. Arbitrarily taking the southern states rights away. They were using the issue of freeing slaves, a noble ideal, to impose Northern laws.
    Duke returned to the present, pulling himself out of his memories. A ruckus was starting at the other end of the bar. An unshaven man in a Stetson and a tan duster had bumped into one of the ugliest men Duke had ever seen.
    ?Do you know who I am? I?m Juan Wild. Nobody but nobody so much as touches me, you got that??
    ?Oh, let him go, Wild, he ain?t worth the trouble,? one of his associates tried to reason with him.
    ?Except he is. Give me one good reason why I shouldn?t blow your brains out, chump.?
    Duke watched the exchange. He generally stayed out of fights that were none of his business. If the man backed down, Duke doubted that this ?Wild? would waste a bullet. If the stetsoned man chose to try and put wild in his place, it was still none of Duke?s concern.
    What caught his attention was the man in the corner. He sat there smoking his yellowed pipe and smiling. This rankled Duke for some reason, probably because death was no laughing matter? except if it was your own. Duke had every intention of laughing in the face of his death, not to mention spitting in its eye.
    For now he would see how things would unfold, and he would keep an eye on ?Smiley?.

    Tag: Sey, Solo, Ramza
  18. s65horsey Otter-loving Former EUC Mod

    Member Since:
    Jun 24, 2006
    star 7
    IC: Rose

    The flirty man made his way up the stairs and Rose watched his rear end sway back and forth as he climbed the stairs. Pulling out a rag, Rose began to wipe the counter down as she smiled. Her life might not be perfect. Other females might look down on her choice in lifestyle. But she was happy. Not as happy as when she met Ray, got married, and started off on this adventure into the West, but happy nonetheless. She was a strong woman and wasn't going to curl up and die when life handed her another disaster.

    A fly buzzed in her face and she absentmindedly swatted at it while rubbing down the counter top. The west was dusty, but Rose made every attempt at keeping the place presentable. Well, presentable for a brothel that is.

    BANG

    Since Rose had lived in this area for awhile now, she was accustomed to hearing gunshots around her business. However, this one shocked her because it sounded like it came from upstairs. Sure enough, girls started screaming and running out of their rooms.

    Idiots Rose thought to herself. "Get back in the rooms and lock the doors!" She shouted. This had never happened before. No one shot people at her place. Unfortunately Rose didn't have a gun, just a small knife she kept up her skirt in case a guy tried to get improper with her.

    She climbed up the stairs, her heels clicking on the wooden floor in the now silent building. "John!" she called into room 2. "Get out here and help me!" she continued and waited for the door to open. The flirty man from the beginning opened the door, gun in one hand and tucking in a his shirt with the other hand.

    "Either give me that gun or you help me go door to door. So help me if some ******* killed one of my girls, he's going to be dead." With that, Rose hiked up her skirt and moved off down the hall towards where she thought the shot had come from.

    Tag: Ramza
  19. Penguinator RPF Modinator and Batmanager

    Manager
    Member Since:
    May 23, 2005
    star 6
    Quincy Borden
    Paseo del Oeste

    The man bit his lip - dead giveaway. Literally like shooting fish in a barrel. Or something in a barrel.

    Borden smiled slowly. Let him sweat. He was in control.

    "I'll take one."

    His free hand received the card. He glanced at it - it didn't matter. One card meant his hand was solid, or at least he wanted his opponent to think so.

    He began to drawl idly. This was getting fun.

    "You know, sir, I was in Russia few years back. They had some odd games there, very odd indeed. The old Cossacks are a bit mad, you know; they like to gamble with more than just money. Cattle, grain, weapons...their lives. They had something there with their Mosins, those revolvers, where two men sit across the table from each other and load one bullet - only one! - into their gun."

    Borden idly spun the chambers of his revolver for effect. He was loving this.

    "They spin the chambers, lose track of the bullet. Then they begin."

    He cocked his head to the side.

    "One man takes the gun and puts it to his temple. The hammer is cocked, the trigger pulled - you know the drill. And if he's lucky, he makes it to the next round, pardon the pun. His opponent does the same."

    Borden took a sip of his whiskey.

    "Last man standing wins." He chuckled. "Of course, they drink copious amounts of vodka..."

    Tag: Ramza
  20. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 6
    IC: Tommy Lidge
    Flagstone

    The air inside the saloon was hot, dry and insufferable, just like the rest of the damned American southwest. But he had grown used to it - it was a necessity in order to survive for so long out here. Of course, he felt he deserved better, but he would take what he could get. Besides, after the hard road he had traveled on, it was too late to turn back now.

    Now nursing a glass of whiskey, Tommy had arrived in town earlier that morning and already, Flagstone was proving to be quite accommodating. The town had all the essentials for the traveling man and then some. Plenty of businesses lined the dusty streets and through Tommy's eyes, they were ripe for the picking. It had been a long trek across the plains of Texas and his profits were thinning. He had his work cut out for him.

    But for now, he was content to take in the sights and perhaps...find some entertainment for the duration of the evening. With a mischievous glint in his eye, his gaze swept the saloon until he spotted the pair of broads he had tipped his hat to upon his arrival. They would do nicely.

    Keeping his eyes on the prize, he rose and started to saunter his way through the crowd when his elbow bumped into something and he stumbled. The whiskey sloshed over the side of the glass and he cursed just as the foul man he had managed to collide with took stock of the situation.

    "You?ve got a lot of nerve, punk," the man sputtered. "Do you know who I am?"

    Tommy tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, daring the man to continue.

    "I?m Juan Wild. Nobody but nobody so much as touches me, you got that?"

    A grin spread over Tommy's features as the man's posse decided to join in, trying to coax Wild into leaving him be. A smart choice. He should've listened. Nothing like trouble to start out a stay in a new town.

    "Except he is," Wild continued and for a brief moment, Tommy had an inkling that this bum knew who he really was. It was time to be cautious. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn?t blow your brains out, chump."

    Bringing the glass of whiskey back to his lips, he took a long, sucking sip before wavering slightly on his feet. Blinking his eyes continuously, he gave the appearance that he was drunk as he shook his head with a lazy smile. "I didnn mean ya no harm, mista" he effectively slurred his words. "Juss tryin' da enjoy da crowd..." He raised his glass shakily and pointed back towards the broads, unleashing a throaty chuckle.

    Slowly, he started to backpedal to put some distance between himself and Wild.

    TAG: Ramza, Flagstone Group
  21. Ramza JC Head Admin and RPF Manager

    Administrator
    Member Since:
    Jul 13, 2008
    star 7
    Paseo del Oeste - A Westward Stroll

    "Cut the crap, Prof," the man seated across from Quincy Borden snapped, before taking another shot of his liquor. "I'm a tough guy, alright? And some tales about whatever they do in Russia or whatever? They don't phase me, okay, I don't afraid of - I'm not afraid of whatever... Russia or something, got it?" He looked at his hand - Ace high, followed by an eight, and diddely squat. Borden by now would know well what his hand was (He, of course, had had pocket kings and three cards worth of crap, but the man didn't know that).

    He brought his gun up over the table and planted it atop the cheap green felt. The patrons nearby turned and stared at the unfolding scenario in silence - the others, of course, were distracted by an incident at the bar that remained as of yet unresolved - wondering what, exactly, would happen next. "As far as I can recall, Prof, it's your bet or something. Bet."

    TAG: Peng


    Flagstone - Keep Your Loving Brother Happy - Madame Rose's

    It had been a very audible gunshot, Indio realized. Probably too audible. They were probably coming to open the door to the room now.

    "Fine then," he thought aloud, cocking the hammer on his still smoking revolver. "Let them come."

    He placed his... "cigarette" between his lips and took a good long draw. It felt good - surprisingly good. He hadn't expected he'd be able to so easily... well...

    He stood up. "Thank you for that. You were my first woman in a long time, eh? Always pleasant." He nodded in the direction of the bed, and pulled back the cloth that covered his face, revealing a tan man, probably some Native American heritage in him, with a scar on his left eyebrow. He laughed maniacally, and then proceeded to move the dresser so as to form a sort of barricade. The room was just a bit too high up to make leaving through the window viable - but like all good outlaws, Indio knew the value of good cover.

    And, of course, the bloody corpse on the bed would provide an ample distraction.

    Meanwhile, John was checking every door he passed by - a lot of startled and confused faces wondering what that gunshot had been, but otherwise nothing going on so far. So which room was it?

    At the entrance of the brothel, no one had noticed the entrance of a rather unassuming man with a harmonica.

    TAG: Sey


    Flagstone - Keep Your Loving Brother Happy - Saloon

    The man in the corner, still smiling to himself as he smoked on his yellow pipe, spotted Duke Duncan out of the corner of his eye. He chuckled a bit, and pointed the mouthpiece of the pipe at the two men of the bar, as if to say "Yes, I'm well aware of what's about to happen. Just keep your eyes open, you might learn something." He was an altogether odd sort of man, clad in all black like some kind of priest, but with the kind of mile-long stare that suggested an old hand at this sort of business. He didn't strike Duke as a bad fellow, per se, but he seemed to be wholly unconcerned with the two men down at the saloon - like he knew more about the altercation than he was letting on.

    At the same time, Juan Wild, the hunchback, had taken to drumming on the hilt of his gun. "You're going to apologize, or you're going to die." He pulled out his gun and pulled back on the trigger, before shooting one of the bottles on the shelf behind the counter clean through. "Got that? I don't miss."

    His scowl grew. "Get down on your knees and beg for my forgiveness and I might just let you live."

    TAG: NukeEm, Solo

    GM Note: Peng, Solo, Sey, you're in positions where you can begin a gunfight. If you choose to do so, be sure to TAG: DUEL in addition to any others you deem relevant./>/>
  22. BartSimpson-SithLord Manager Emeritus

    Member Since:
    Jan 24, 2002
    star 5
    Layne Burns
    Paseo del Oeste

    Layne watched in amused silence as the young boy began to fidget noticeably in his boots. He stared nervously at the barrel of Layne's gun, then at the man himself, and then towards the bartender who was eagerly pouring the alcohol. This would be a defining point in this young person's career here in the west. Could he fit in, or would be back down and face the other consequences that came with it. The air around them had gone still with anticipation as the bottle made the only noise as it was placed in front of the newcomer. The next sound, the boy having already spoke, was a slight gulp. An intake of saliva and air meant to bring courage with them, but usually only serving to dry the palette.

    Layne stared hard as the boy's hands grabbed the bottle, obviously shaking, afraid of what would happen if he failed. Afraid if Layne really would pull the trigger on that gun. He had no idea what to think of this man he'd been speaking to. He just nervously brought glass object to his lips and began to drink. The look on the young man's face as he tried to swallow the burning liquid made Layne grin. The boy hadn't even made it through a quarter of the bottle before he had to place it back on the table and began gasp and gag and grab at his throat. Layne could see the fear in the young boy's eyes as he stammered out a response to what he perceived as failure.

    Chuckling, Layne leaned forward. "Don't werry, greenhorn. I didn't 'xpect a youngun like you to get through the whole bottle in one go. Take yer time. I'm just here to make sure you don't give up. Givan up's the dangerous option." He glanced down to his pistol after that last sentence.

    TAG: GM
  23. Penguinator RPF Modinator and Batmanager

    Manager
    Member Since:
    May 23, 2005
    star 6
    Quincy Borden
    Paseo del Oeste

    Borden scowled. "Winner takes all, eh?"

    He pushed his pile of chips in and grabbed hold of his drink, staring at the liquid for a moment. Someone up there better like me. In a moment he had drained the glass.

    "All in, sir."

    Then he pulled the trigger.

    Tag: DUEL
  24. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 6
    IC: Tommy Lidge
    Saloon, Flagstone

    The bullet left the barrel of Wild's gun and shattered a glass bottle sitting on the bar behind both men. Tommy tilted his head slightly, but otherwise didn't flinch. To Wild, it might have appeared to be the typical reaction of a staggering drunk, senses dimmed and non-responsive to such a display of force, but Tommy got along a little better than that. He was used to the 'rough and tumble' neighborhood and shootouts were just part of the job description. Intimidation only went so far and unfortunately for Mr. Wild, he didn't quite meet the description, especially with that hunched over stature of his.

    "Got that?" the little man reiterated, just to make sure Tommy was listening. "I don't miss."

    A small chuckle slipped from Tommy's lips as he started to lower himself to his knees, following Wild's instructions. "Y'know, that's a funny thing," he quipped, the slur no longer present in his speech. His right hand slowly brushed against the butt of his revolver and he began to pull it free from the holster. "Neither do I."

    With a jerk of his arm, the gun was clear of the holster and without a second thought, he pulled the trigger.

    TAG: DUEL
  25. ma_petite Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 26, 2006
    star 2
    OOC: this is sey!

    IC: Rose

    The smell of cigarettes, booze, and sex hit Rose's face every time John kicked a door open. She was following him, at a safe distance since she wasn't armed except for a small knife that she didn't even have in her hand. She wasn't a fool. Holding a knife when the person they were tracking obviously had a gun would be suicide. Rose hadn't lived this long on her own by being stupid.

    She fought to keep from wrinkling her nose as she went in each room and the smells assaulted her senses She attempted to assure the patrons and her girls that everything was fine. Probably a misunderstanding. No need to rush off. She was also keeping a mental track of which girls she saw. She knew who stationed themselves in what room, that part was all kept track of on paper behind the counter. However, sometimes things got playful. Thus far all the girls seemed to be where they should be.

    As Rose was coming out of one of the rooms, she heard a thud. John was up the hallway a few rooms ahead of her throwing his shoulder into a door that wouldn't budge.

    "John?" Rose called.

    "There's something blocking the door, Ma'am." he replied as he moved away from the door.

    "Maybe we should get the sheriff." Her voice trembled slightly as she fought to remain calm. In all her years something like this had never happened. This place was supposed to be for pleasure, not killing!

    Tag: Ramza
Moderators: Penguinator, Ramza
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