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Blood & Sand

Earth

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a part of Blood & Sand, by Sheoul.

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Sheoul holds sovereignty over Earth, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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Default Location for Blood & Sand
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Earth

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Earth is a part of Blood & Sand.

1 Places in Earth:

5 Characters Here

Luther "Black Eye" Sorrenson [0] Vicious outlaw who fled to Ironshade on a whim.
Phyllis "Filly" Rotwell [0] Conniving saloon girl with an excess of ambition and a lack of empathy
Marilynne Mesa [0] A vampire hunter
Uther Maundrell [0] He a Vampire that is sometimes lonely, but is fun to be with.
August Falls [0] Quiet drunk, blacksmith.

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Marilynne hadn't slept a wink in days. She had slaughtered several vampires that night with holy-water soaked bullets. She was known as Joshua to almost everyone, and her real gender was always hidden. She knew that women didn't make it very far in the society she'd grown up in, and that was the exact reason she did it. She lied about her name and sex everywhere, and got away with it because no one saw under all those baggy clothes.

"Dang undead, they're everywhere." Her voice, raspy and masculine, had an imposing tone. "I'll make sure they don't fulfill the prophecy."

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The cheap handless piano tinkled endlessly with the same old song, a lively and inviting song that sounded eerily similar to what would be the song ice cream trucks would play in the coming century. It was friendly, announcing to all the desert folk to ‘come on in! Have a drink and take a look at our girl! She’s a pretty one if you know the meaning of the word and is sure to show you a good time for a price affordable at any budget!’ Of course that was a lie, Filly Rotwell was not affordable to most men but still managed to bring in almost half the amount of money the liquor in the place did, which was an accomplishment in itself. The saloon was a grin little place, the wood always being worn by the sandy winds and then repainted in the same old gaudy colour. It was a shade caught somewhere in between brick red and maroon and looked just awful in the glaring sun of the desert. It sure caught attention though, just as the stencilled sign reading SALOON in thick black letters did. The inside of the place was always gritty, no matter how many times the owner mopped the place down. It smelled of sweat and liquor without fail and sometimes an added bonus of the leery odour of blood or sour vomit. Five little tables were situated around the floor, the biggest set in the corner with a velvet cloth set over it. That was for the card players, who caused more brawls than they did games. The bar shined greasily with polish and was rarely empty, even if it was only occupied by the same old man who came in at nine o’clock and left at nine that night.

Filly lived in one of the rooms upstairs, seeing as the place doubled for an inn for travellers willing to pay a few more dollars to be closer to the alcohol than at the HOTEL across the street. The little room consisted of a four post mahogany bed with a faded pale pink coverlet. There was a vanity in the corner with a little stool, a wardrobe in the opposite corner and a little breakfast table in the adjacent corner. Filly could always be found in one of the corners, typically sitting at the vanity.
That’s where she perched that bright desert morning, wearing nothing but an ivory slip and a lacy pair of thigh high stockings that clipped to her under garments black strips of cloth attached to little buttons. Red lipstick, black liner she’d bought from an Asian fellow and plum coloured shadow. Her hair was tied carefully into a ponytail and then adorned with a violet coloured bow. Filly cast a glance at the mirror, pleased with the youthful vixen that stared back at her. She made her way lithely to the wardrobe and drew out a deep red dress adorned all over with black lace. She drew out a corset and wearily laced it up just tight enough to get the job done but not so she would be out of breath throughout the day. She slipped into the dress, managing to button the back without help and got into her only pair of heeled boots.

If only her Daddy could see her now.

Filly walked daintily down the stairs, pleased to see that it was too early for anyone to be looking for her. She cast a brown-eyed glare at the place she called home and settled into a chair, legs crossed in manner of boredom. It was going to be a long, hot day in Ironshade.

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Filly had just been dozing off into her arms when the half doors of the saloon swung in, ringing a little bell attached to the left one. On busy nights the owner took the bell off or else it would sound like someone was playing a tambourine all throughout the night. The tall girl rose gracefully and stalked behind the bar, casting a dismal eye on the bar tender. He was curled behind the bar, a bottle of whiskey held in his grip like a beloved child. “I’ll be taking that.” She murmured before snatching the bottle from his hands and planting a firm kick to his ribs. He coughed briefly and opened two glassy, bloodshot eyes before falling promptly back asleep. Filly sneered momentarily before turning to the early bird customer. Her eyes flicked over the rounded, smooth chinned man before her a little smile coming to her lips.

“You look like you need a drink cowboy.” She poured the remaining whiskey into a glass and slid it over to him, returning the bottle to the tender by means of dropping it on his chest. She was not supposed to be tending the bar, but she would gladly accept any tips until the owner made his entrance. Filly leaned against the serving counter and tilted her head to the side, watching the man bleed from a fresh looking wound from his shoulder. Bandits typically roamed on the outskirts of town and it wasn’t unusual to see the traveler prove the better gunfighter. One rarely met bad shots who traveled alone. “That’s a nasty snag. The doctor’ll charge you a few dollars to patch you up.” She spoke in a bored manner, wishing for something more exciting than a gunshot wound. She glanced around the familiar room again before looking back to the man at the bar. Something was off about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“You heard about the murders in our town?” She asked nonchalantly, folding her arms under her bust. Filly really hoped he hadn’t, she loved talking about them. She’d run out to see each and every corpse and developed an unhealthy obsession with them, as teenagers often do. She was a little old for such things, but nothing exciting ever happened in Ironshade.

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"Thank you for the drink, ma'am" Marilynne said, she gave the girl a bit of money. "This bullet wound's nothin, I've had much worse. I'll be fine and able to patch myself up, but I can't say the same about my horse. He needed a dose of metal in the head, his leg was shot up in a gun fight." She downed the drink halfway, then heard the word 'murder', "I'm actually investigating them. I'm not allowed to divulge little more than that, but I have taken down a few of the culprits." She accidentally flipped her hat up a little, exposing her eyes, as she tried to scratch an itch at the bridge of her nose.

Her voice was still gruff, even when she lowered the volume, "It's the work of supernatural beings, and that's the maximum of what I can say. You seem very interested in this kind of stuff, you may be of some use to me somehow." She cleared her throat several times, "Civilians such as yourself can be sort of...undercover. None of the suspects would suspect you." She took a finger and dipped it in the drink, then rubbed it on her wound. It stung, but she did not wince. Then she downed the rest of the drink.

The handless piano stopped dead mid note, "Must have been a cheap piece of new fangled machinery. The better ones don't break down just like that" Marilynne noted. She went over to examine it, there was something jammed inside of one of the mechanisms. She plucked out what appeared to be a pallid human finger, "I guess humans aren't made durable any more." She slipped the severed finger in her pocket. "Maybe the work of the the same people responsible for the wave of murders".