Announcements: Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Presuppositionalism » Aphantasia » Skill Trees - Good, Bad & Ugly » In-Game Gods & Gameplay Impact » Cunningham's Law » The Tribalism of Religion » Lost Library » Game Theory » The Hidden Void » Removing CS From an Indy Universe : Solution » On the Matter of New Players and Orphaned Plays » STOP BLAMING US FOR RPG BEING SLOW! » Polytheism » The Game of Life » Just War » Science and Philosophy » The Bible as Literature » Humans in the MV. Questions and thoughts. » Surviving the post-holiday apocalypse. » SL: 1097 Bestiary of Monsters »

Players Wanted: Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ٩( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution » Gonna do this anyway. » Looking for Kamen Rider Players » Elysium » Looking for roleplayers for a dystopian past! » Revamping Fantasy Adventure RPG, need new players » Here, At the End of the World (supernatural mystery drama) » Seeking Role Players for a TOG Based RP » so I made a Stranger Things RP idk why not come join » LFP - New Roleplay » Gifted/Mutant individuals escaping the gov » Spaceship Zero! A retro horror sci fi RP with rayguns :D »

0
followers
follow

Cole Black-Thorn

A half-breed Apache with a long slow fuse and gold in his eyes.

0 · 785 views · located in Wild West era Louisiana Purchase area

a character in “Devils, Demons, Gold and a 6-Gun”, as played by BrazenWolfsbane

Description

Physical Traits

Name: Cole Black-Thorn

Alias: Half-Breed, Apache and Caucasian

Lineage: Half Apache

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Body Type: Tall and Muscular

Distinguishing marks: A hawk wing tattooed on his left pectoral

Appearance: 6’7” dark tanned skin, indian features, Hair cut in the Mohawk style, three feathers, one black, one white, one half and half are braided into his pitch black hair. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown.

Clothing style: He wears buckskin trousers tucked into hide boots, he doesn’t wear a shirt, instead opting for a red patterned poncho banket hanging over his frame. He has a blue bandanna tied around his neck, he also sports a series of bracelets and rings up his arms. Tied to his waist he has a buckskin pouch.



Psychological Traits

Attitude: Cheery, good natured, proud, slow to temper

Handicaps: his heritage prevents him from being able to frequent certain establishments, bigotry etc… and he’s got a bullet in his left leg that occasionally twinges and locks up his leg

Addictions: recovering alcoholic, smokes

Characteristics: He is extremely proud of his heritage, flaunts it with his clothing and his beliefs, refuses Christianity, prefers his native American halfs beliefs. He is slow to temper, but when gotten there he takes a LONG time to cool off. He’s been used to bigotry all his life, so it doesn’t tend to bother him, though that doesn’t mean it never does.

Biography: He was born Thomas Cole Smith jr. to Thomas Smith senior, and Ekta White-Feather. He grew up in a Christian household with an alcoholic father. He was a soldier in the Civil war before he’d met Ekta, and took her from her tribe as a wife. Ekta took it meekly, in her own way. But she was the main force in his raising. She secretly raised him in her native beliefs and ways, teaching him how to track and survive in the wilderness. She cared for and nurtured him during his fathers outbursts.

At the age of 17 his father had a particularly bad outburst, pushing his mother down the stairs, killing her. Thomas watches it happen, he watched his mother fall, saw her neck snap on the landing. He watched his father stumble down after her in shock, realizing what he’d done. He watched as his father cradled his mothers lifeless body in his arms. He watched as his father put his Army service .45 six-gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

After that he left home, taking from his mothers room anything that was connected to her native roots, and from his father, a Winchester rifle, a hunting knife, a tomahawk, and the pistol that killed him. For the years following it he roamed the west, taking odd jobs here and there, tracking, hunting, and translating. During these years he became an alcoholic, it nearly killed him. That is, until he had his spirit vision. His vision showed him drowning in a brown river, with the bodies of his mother and father dragging him under. A large hawk swooped down, plucking him from the river like a fish. Depositing him in its nest of black thorns, it disappeared. Most would call this a fever dream born from an alcoholic stupor and catatonic state he induced in himself after a bender. But after that he kicked booze and took the name Cole Black-Thorn.

From that day he began to take a brighter outlook on life, and on his skills and heritage. He became a crack shot with the Winchester, preferring to not use the pistol that killed his father unless he absolutely has to. Taking instantly to the tomahawk he trained relentlessly with that and the knife, winning several competitions and fights with the tomahawk alone. Like any man, he was always up for making a little extra money. And the notion of Spanish gold being guarded by an old Myan curse interested him greatly. Since that day he’d been hunting the gold. Many a time coming close but never quite making it.



Combat Information

Weapons: Colt .45 Army service six shooter, Winchester Rifle, Steel bladed tomahawk, and a bowie hunting knife

Anything else: When possible, he uses his tomahawk, but he is a crack shot with the rifle, because of the guns history he tends to avoid using the .45, but cant bring himself to get rid of it, despite it being a little out-dated, he fights with the true ferocity of an apache warrior, war-cry and facepaint and everything, doing all he can to intimidate his enemy



Health and Vitality (35 points total)

Health: 10

Stamina: 6

Memory: 6

Senses: 8

Stability: 5


Combat Stats

Gunplay: (1-10 total)
---Rifles: 7
---Short arms: 3

Hand Fighting: (1-10 total)
---unarmed: 1
---Armed: 9

So begins...

Cole Black-Thorn's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

A lone rider came into view on the horizon at about midday. He was slumped over in the saddle, almost appearing to be asleep as his horse carried him. The animal seemed to move without any steering input from the rider. It just made its way into the little town, faithfully plodding up to the watering trough in front of the stable.

It was at that point that the rider became animated, snapping awake and stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck. He slid lightly out of the saddle, and patted his horses neck. A small cloud of dust formed as he did so, “we need to get you cleaned up don’t we old girl?” The mans voice alerted the snoozing stable hand. Not that the man was very able, he stood at maybe five foot dead with enough girth for three men. Shifting his bulk from the chair by the opposite wall he started to lumber over towards the man standing in the sunlit entrance.

Sensing the stable hand moving towards him the man turned towards him “good man, if you would be so kind as to stable my horse?”

The man, ceasing his lumbering looked the newcomer up and down. He couldn’t see his face, backlit as the man was, but he could sure as hell see the feathers in the mans hair and the boots he was wearing. Taking a deep inhaling snort through his nose, he spat a lob of tobacco juice and phlegm to the side “we don’t serve your kind here boy.”

Great, another bigot just like every other town, the man thought, staring impassively at the man. “Then I’ll serve myself,” the mans tone was ice, chilling the stable hand to the core. Pushing past the man he lead his horse to an empty stall.

The stable hand stood shocked for a moment, then gathering a hold of himself he lumbered off after the man. “Hey, I said we don’t serve your kind here red,” he said, hocking another wad of spit.

“And I said, I’m serving myself,” the man said the ice still in his tone, his back to the stable hand. He lead his horse into the stall, starting to take the saddle off of the mare.

The stable hand was enraged that the stranger wasn’t listening to him. That this red devil was ignoring him. Snorting through his nose again, the hand lobbed another wad of spit, right into the back of the strangers head. “I SAID, we DON’T Serve YOUR kind here.”

Those were almost his last words, as the man turned and a hunting knife went whizzing past the stable hands ear. Turning around to face the hand, the strangers features were revealed. But more importantly, the large tomahawk and six shooter were revealed. “Do that again, I don’t have to miss next time,” he said patting his tomahawk emphatically. He advanced on the man until he was only a few inches away from him, the stable hands head only coming up to the strangers mid chest.

The stranger reached out, the stable hand flinching, but the stranger snagged the mans bandana and wiped the back of his head with it, shoving it back into the mans front pocket. “Thank you, now, I do believe this should cover a days fees,” he said reaching into the buckskin pouch on his hip, withdrawing a few bills and placing them in the same pocket as the bandanna. Then, leaving the man quite literally shaking in his boots, the stranger retrieved his knife and made to leave. “Oh, by the way, the names Cole, Cole Black-Thorn, you’d do well to remember it,” he said disappearing into the suns glare. The stable hand, nodding numbly nearly collapsed after the Stranger left.

Cole, looking up and down the dusty street and shielding his eyes from the sun, finally fixed his eyes on the local saloon. He was parched, and the saloon was a good place to look for a job. Opening the doors to the saloon, the music stopped dead as everyone turned to stare at him. Great, this again, this was really starting to get old, Cole thought to himself, sighing heavily.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image

It was always fun, Robyn thought, riding into town, old or new. Her legend was already being told. The outlaw known as the Crimson Lady, the dark skinned murderer, bathing in the blood of her victims. A smirk touched her lips at the thought.

That only happened once.

She rode on this town was one she'd been before, safe for outlaws, for the most part a chestnut filly called Harbinger, her gang in toe. To her right, was a large man, bigger than most men, handsome, with yellow hair and fair skin. He was William Casey, also known as Billy Bones. ImageImage To her left was Jack Ratham, otherwise known as Jack the Dandy, or simply Jack Dandy, a lanky, dark haired man with a smartly cut hair and fancy dress, which was where he got his name. They were her right and left hand, would follow her into the depths of Hell if she asked. Most outlaw gangs had more the three members, but not the Crimson Gang. All three of them, skilled in the art of theft, gun slinging, and murder.

The less the better.
"Hey, how long d'you reckon we got 'til the lawman figured out where we are?" Jack asked Casey, knowing Robyn wasn't going to answer stupid questions. "Last time, it was two weeks." Jack said, answering his own question. Casey gave Jack a foul look. Robyn just rode ahead, listening, but not at the same time. "Figure we'd be easy to spot, given--" Jack stopped, Robyn merely arched an eyebrow, but didn't bother to look back at them. She already knew Casey shot him a glare for her.

Her dark skinned was a dead giveaway. Everyone knew that the Crimson Lady wasn't red, she was black. The two of them always danced around the subject of her skin color, they knew she was a slave, or would have been, had she'd not been orphaned and left on the street. They didn't know any of that. They did know of the legend, about the negro whore that murdered a governor, slit his throat and bathed in his blood, walking the streets like a demon.

"Don't worry, Jack, the lawman will try and we'll do what we always do." Robyn said, as they road into town.

She let Casey take the horses to the stables, she didn't want to deal with the bigots around here. She was prepared for it, but avoided as best she could. She wasn't ashamed of her skin, but she didn't need to deal with the attention that it brought anymore then she had to.

She and Jack walked into the nearest tavern, eyes were on her instantly. This she was prepared for. She walked in, with the swagger she was known for. Her black duster with the red stitching flowing around her hips as she moved, men and women alike, watching her, and honestly, she liked it that way. Her black and red boots where the only sound in the tavern, as she walked in, making her way toward the back of the bar, her amber eyes finding a native man, a little paler then she'd known them to be but his features were distinctly native, strong jaw line, high cheek bones, chocolate eyes, he seemed proud of what he was. Feathers adorning his black hair, shaved in the native style, a hawk marked on his olive skin. She gave him a devilish smirk as she walked by and took a seat in the back of the tavern, and took a seat. Jack trailing behind her. The saloon she knew was safe for outlaws, run by a barkeep that doubled as an information broker. If you wanted a score, this was the place to come. They wouldn't call the lawmen, no one here wanted that sort of trouble, thought bounty hunters weren't uncommon, and a negro outlaw woman, fetched a pretty penny.
Image
Jack bought them a round of rum while Casey returned and took a seat beside her. "There's a very irate stable hand, going on about some 'Red Devil'." Casey said, and Robyn merely nodded, her eyes were on the native man. Casey turned his head, following her gaze. "I don't know how you do it," He said, shaking his head with a smirk turning back to her.

"What can I say, I've an eye for the bad ones." She said and stood up just as Jack came back with the rum. She reached out, grabbed the bottle as she walked up to the native man and gave him a wolfish grin as she took a seat beside him. Amusement and curiosity playing in her eyes as she scanned his face. He was handsome enough, but there was something that intrigued her.

"Hello." She said. "And who might you be?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cole slowly panned his eyes around the room, noticing that the majority of people were slowly going for their guns. The bartender was even slowly reaching beneath the bar for the shotgun that was undoubtedly there. Sighing heavily Cole stepped through the doors and closed them softly behind him. He made his way to the bar, “is there anywhere I can fill my canteen in this establishment?”

The barkeep looked him up and down, his hands still under the bar. “You can try the horse trough outside red,” the barkeeper said narrowing his eyes. His hands stayed under the bar.

Cole rested his forehead on the bar sighing heavily. This, this always happened. Refused service, implied threats, racism, outright hostility, it was all beginning to wear on him. He lifted his head back up, straightening the feathers and squaring his shoulders. These backwater hicks, what the hell did they know about his life. He was a halfbred, and even if he wasn’t their scalps were safe.

The woman sidling up next to him was a surprise. Usually most people avoided him like the plague. The bartender seemed to relax only slightly, showing her some kind of deference. Almost like he seemed to think she’d take care of the problem of the little red injun boy. Turning in his seat he gave the ebony skinned woman a long lingering look up and down. This wasn’t out of some objectifying need, it was just his way. Every motion he made seemed to be very deliberate and languid, hiding the speed and grace his people were known for.

“Just a little red injun boy ma’am, nothing the famous Crimson Lady need concern herself with,” he said, tugging his forelock slightly towards her. Oh he knew who she was, he knew who they all were. Jack Dandy and Billy bones, the ruthless right and left hand of the famous Ebony Crimson. He was no one of consequence compared to them, and certainly didn’t have their ruthless streak.

He was just about to say something else when two men came up behind him, placing a hand on each of his shoulders, “The man said leave boy.” One of them spat a wad of chew into the spittoon. At least they weren’t spitting on him.

“No, I believe what he said was, ‘you can try the horse trough outside red’ unless I’m mistaken.” His eyes were boring holes in the barkeeper. The portly man behind the bar shuddered and took a step back, making eye contact with one of the men holding Cole, and nodded.

The man to his left sneered, “looks like you were red, now we think you should leave.” The man to his left spit another wad of chew into the spittoon. Both of their grips tightened on him. “Now Jeb and I are just gonna lead you out, aint we Jeb?” The man to his left nodded dumbly, spiting again.

Cole rolled his eyes, closing them and rubbing his temples. “Boys, its been a long ride, I’m tired, and I appreciate the company, but I think I’m capable of finding the door by myself thank you.” He made to get up but was shoved back into the stool by the two men behind him. “I thought you wanted me to leave. Pushing me back into the stool is hardly equivalent to me leaving.”

Maybe their scalps weren’t safe.

“You done upset Jeb boy, I don’t like it when Jeb gets upset.” The offended party then proceeded to spit a wad of chew onto Coles boot. There it was again, the damned spit. Their scalps definitely weren’t safe for very much longer if they kept this up. “Now I guess we got to teach little red here a lesson don’t we Jeb.” Jeb, again nodded dumbly, spitting another wad onto Coles boots.

Cole hung his head and sighed deeply. He hated having to do this, but he was angry, these backwater hicks had actually managed to make him angry. “I am truly sorry you have to witness this ma’am, he said to the ebony beauty beside him. With astonishing swiftness he threw his elbows back, hitting both of them in the solar plexus. Then leaning back he slipped his arms behind them, grabbing them by the back of their heads. The he forced their heads to meet the bar three times in quick succession.

Standing he threw them both down onto the floor. Turning around he motioned to the other men who were staring, shocked. “What, no one else got the guts to go against a little red injun boy,” he said icily as he swept his buckskin aside, revealing the tomahawk and colt. The tension in the air was palpable as he waited for the response from the rest of the saloon.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
“Just a little red injun boy ma’am, nothing the famous Crimson Lady need concern herself with,” The native said and she clicked her teeth. "Infamous." She corrected, but smiled anyway. Before either of them could get another word out, two men came up to him, one placing a hand on his shoulder. Poor red man didn't know how things worked here. They knew not to bother her, her reputation preceded her, if Billy Bones or Jack the Dandy didn't get their hands end them first, The Crimson Lady most certainly would.

As if called by her thoughts her men both flinched behind her, and she merely raised a hand to stop them. She wanted to see where this was going, besides they weren't after her. Funny thing was, the poor fool walked around like he intended to take back his people's land. That did not sit right with the pale faces. She blended -as much as she could given her color- She wanted what all the outlaws here wanted, that was evident in her attire, she only wanted gold, and blood, which wasn't much different from anyone else in this here saloon, but the Red Man, with his shaven head, feathers, and copper skin, seeming like he and his people would come in and ransack this town, taking it back, running the white man out, that didn't sit well. Too many of them lost family to that sort of thing, and rightly so, it wasn't their land but that were willing to fight for it. Any native that could come across.

"The man said, leave." one of them said, spatting out his tobacco. Robyn turned, looking at the native, awaiting his response. “No, I believe what he said was, ‘you can try the horse trough outside red’ unless I’m mistaken.” The native said and Robyn chuckled and sat back against her chair, rum hanging loosely from her fingers. “looks like you were red, now we think you should leave.” Said the other, looking to his comrade. Robyn could feel the ever familiar static in the air. A fight was sure to be on its way, and now she wanted to know how the native man would fair. “Now Jeb and I are just gonna lead you out, aint we Jeb?”  said the first and the native looked genuinely annoyed, his fingers rubbing his temples as if the combined intelligence of these two were taking a toll on his head.
“Boys, it's been a long ride, I’m tired, and I appreciate the company, but I think I’m capable of finding the door by myself thank you.” He said and made his way to move but the two forced him back in this seat. “I thought you wanted me to leave. Pushing me back into the stool is hardly equivalent to me leaving.”
Robyn liked him already, making jokes the way he did, clearly he was smarter than most in the room.
“You done upset Jeb boy, I don’t like it when Jeb gets upset.” said the tobacco chewer, before spat out a wad at the native's boot. Robyn's hand found the butt of her Colt. Her thumb finding the hammer. She was a sharp shooter, dropping these two dead would be hard. They wouldn't even see the bullets coming. Spit. All too many times in the beginning she'd been spat it. Some men thought themselves so clever that they'd pull out their peckers, as if she'd somehow want it. She didn't. Her bullets did though.

At once she was merely amused, now she was beginning to be annoyed. She turned her head, Casey and Jack, tensed in response ,ready to lit the place up at her word. “Now I guess we got to teach little red here a lesson don’t we Jeb.” He said and spat out yet another wad of tobacco. Robyn flinched and her boys rose, but she rose a hand. Wait... She wanted to know what the native would do, if she was tense. He had to be.

“I am truly sorry you have to witness this, Ma’am, " The native told her and that eased her tension, and before anyone had time to think, he threw his elbows back, striking both men, knocking the wind from him, and in another swift movement, he was up, and slammed both men's heads into the bar, rendering both of them unconscious. She could feel the heat coming from his skin, and he turned to the rest of the saloon.
“What, no one else got the guts to go against a little red injun boy,”
The room was so silent, a pin could echo. Robyn rose, and placed a hand on the native, she could feel the tension in the sinewy muscles behind his copper skin. "Easy, native, you made your point." She told him gently, and with a wave of her hand, the saloon was allowed to breath. "He's with me." She said, and everyone, while still wary, knew better then to anger the Crimson Lady, knowing her wrath was second to her beauty. "Barkeep" She called, her eyes on the native. "Get this man a drink." She said, and in the corner of her eye, she saw him hesitate, so she whipped her head around and he shivered. "Don't tempt me." She said and he went for a glass for the both of them.
"Relax, They won't bother you much now, not if they intend on seeing dawn." She said and waved her boys over, both taking stools to her left.

"Now, You know me, but I don't know you. What are you called, and don't said, Red." She said and smiled kittenishly. "That's my color."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

“Water, just… just water,” he said to the barkeeper before turning around. The tension was bleeding from his body just as quick as it had appeared. As slow as he was to anger, he was inversely fast to cooling off. His father had been an angry drunk, so he’d spent most of his life training himself to be very slow to anger.

Before sitting back down and answering the femme fatale, he had a couple things to do. Leaning down he picked up each of the downed men in turn and set them back in their seats at the table behind him. As he did so he checked to make sure that neither of them had no more permanent injuries than the beating they’d taken. While he would normally not hesitate to kill, he believed in the art of a clean kill. He was not one to toy with those at his mercy. These men were bastards true, but they didn’t deserve to be seriously hurt for their misguided actions. The memory of being beaten senseless by a half-breed should be enough for them to have second thoughts about pulling that shit with anyone else ever again.

Finally turning back towards the Crimson lady he slid back into the seat he had until recently inhabited. As he did so the glass of water was placed in front of him. Condensation was already misting on the side of his glass. He took a long slow drink before answering her loaded question.

“You are certainly right about that ma’am, red is absolutely your color. It’s the perfect highlight to your haunting beauty," he said languidly. He took another long pull from his glass draining it. Placing it upside down on the bar he signaled for a refill. With a disgruntled sigh and an emphatic look at the woman next to Cole the barkeep took it and refilled it, placing it with a thud back in front of the half-breed. Cole winked at the man, more to get his goat than anything, and turned his attention back to the beauty.

"Now saying I know you would be doing your reputation a disservice, as well as giving me more credit than I am due. I certainly know of you, the infamous," he said laying emphasis on the word her correction not having been lost on him, "Crimson Lady. Though from what I see Crimson Woman, or Crimson beauty may be the better name. As deadly as you are beautiful. And from how fast your hand went to your gun, I'm not sure which is more lethal, your looks or your aim." Each of his words seemed to be measured and easy sliding out of his mouth. No trace of the ice was left in his smooth deep voice.

He had until this point seemingly easily deflected the original question of his name. This was his style, very seldom when he didnt have to, did he give a straight answer. Reaching out he took her ebony right hand in his olive left, her fingers in his palm his thumb on top. "But I seem to have missed the point, the name is Cole Black-thorn," he said bringing her hand up to his lips. Though his lips never touched her hand, only his thumb. He knew of her... aversion to most male contact, and as good as he was he didn't know if his tomahawk was faster than her revolver. So he kept the contact to a minimum, platonic and gentlemanly even.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Robyn merely arched an eyebrow as he went over to his tormentors, and checked for any fatal injuries. She could only chuckle, it was like watching a child apologize to the cat it drowned. It was both sad, and amusing. He came back over and took a seat beside her. His ire gone replaced with a cool aire as he gave her his full attention. “You are certainly right about that ma’am, red is absolutely your color. It’s the perfect highlight to your haunting beauty," He said, smoothly, as took a long swig of his glass, finishing the water. She found it odd, the man not wanting to drink, not only did he not want it. She noticed that he seemed to avoid it. He ordered another drink, while the barkeep seemed annoyed by the prospect of serving him yet again. The native merely winked after being served again. Robyn's eyes never left his, thought she was aware of the barkeeps attitude.

"Now saying I know you would be doing your reputation a disservice, as well as giving me more credit than I am due. I certainly know of you, the infamous," Robyn chuckled at that, he was a quick study. "Crimson Lady. Though from what I see Crimson Woman, or Crimson beauty may be the better name. As deadly as you are beautiful. And from how fast your hand went to your gun, I'm not sure which is more lethal, your looks or your aim."

"Mmm," She responded, narrowing her eyes as she did so. He saw her go for her weapon. Perspective. She liked that, know she knew she wanted -no needed to know more. He hadn't given her his name yet, and that she found odd. What was he hiding? He clearly wasn't shy, he wasn't trying to blend it, if he had, he wouldn't be dressed the way he was. What was his angle, she wondered.
His hand then moved to her hand, she felt the callous, clearly from using that tomahawk of his, and rose her knuckles to his lips, but dare not to touch.

"But I seem to have missed the point, the name is Cole Black-thorn He said, and she couldn't help but laugh at the irony ."Cole Black....Cole Black is red, and the Crimson Lady, is black....." She said laughing ."I knew I liked you." She said, and rose her hand so that her knuckles touched his lips. "And to answer your query, Cole Black-thorn, Neither," She said, a single brow raising. " No man has survived a night in my bed, though they've tried. Though you might fare well" She said with her dangerous grin then shrugged. "I'd imagine the bullet is a better way to go, though, no one sees that coming." She said, and removed her hand and reaching for her glass. She sniffed it and turned up her nose. "Smells like piss." She said, and set her glass down, and pushed it aside. Jack the Dandy grabbed it. "It all smells like piss, Cap." he said and took her drink anyway. "That's Jack the Dandy, son of a French nobleman, explains the way he looks." She said, jeering playfully and Jack swallowed. "Bastard of a French nobleman." he corrected proudly, with a point of his empty glass and she chuckled. "Never mind him, He might not sound like a Frenchman, but he acts like one, Pompous as the day is long." She said and he rose a cheers to that. "The big brooding blonde, is Billy Bones." She said, and the fair haired giant rose a chin. "He doesn't say much, but doesn't need to, look at 'em." She said, with a nod toward him.

"so Cole Black-thorn, What brings you to this dustball of a town." She asked. "You know, this is outlaw country?" She nodding toward the saloon and his still unconscious victims. "No need to be nice, no one else here will."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

He simply nodded at the other gentlemen, breaking his eyes from hers only long enough to give each of them their own piercing gaze. His eyes took everything in, eyes like a hawk. He knew of these men as well, though less so than their leader. His languid gaze took in and memorized every detail of the men. His mother had taught him that his mind was a powerful a weapon as his hands. And he had taken that particular lesson to heart.

He grinned as wolfishly as her at the proposition of lasting the night. But he had a particular fondness for having all his body parts firmly attached to where they were so the prospect of sharing his bedroll with a black widow somewhat dampened the image. "A bullet is a fine, clean way to go. But then again, so is a sufficiently sharp blade."

He leaned back and drained the rest of his glass slowly, placing it back on the bar upside down. "I am well aware this is outlaw country. Do I look like someone who enjoys the company of fine upstanding folk, your immense beauty the exception of course." He looked back at the men he'd beaten. "And even though they are my enemy, no one deserves to wake up face down in the dirt and shame. I have spent my fair share of days there, and I'm sure they have as well. The shame of being beaten, then cared for, by someone they deem inferior is often a better lesson than them waking up in the dirt. It truly shows that I hold the power in this instance. And often, a message is more useful than a bullet or blade."

Taking a few bills from the buckskin pouch he placed them on top of the glass. "As to what brings me into town, to be honest my horse did. As I said earlier, its been a long hard trail. And a town with the prospect of paying work is always a welcome sight."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Robyn watched him lean back. A little put off that he didn't want to join her in bed, though admittedly, any sane man wouldn't. Knowing her penance for violence, though, but still. He'd would have been the most attractive lay she'd had in a while. She wouldn't kill him....She though. His comment on the blade made her chuckle. He didn't know her well enough. The knives were saved for the bed.

She was the beginning the muse the idea of his company. He seemed skilled enough in a fight, but she didn't know if he was outlaw material, fighting was one thing, but murder, some people had morals...she was not one of them.

 "I am well aware this is outlaw country. Do I look like someone who enjoys the company of fine upstanding folk, your immense beauty the exception of course." He said and she chuckled. "Tease..." She purred in response. "And even though they are my enemy, no one deserves to wake up face down in the dirt and shame. I have spent my fair share of days there, and I'm sure they have as well. The shame of being beaten, then cared for, by someone they deem inferior is often a better lesson than them waking up in the dirt. It truly shows that I hold the power in this instance. And often, a message is more useful than a bullet or blade." He said and she frowned. That's exactly what they deserve. Men like them, men who thought them better than others because they didn't cook all the way through deserved to wake up to find the business end of a gun, not cared for. It made a person look weak. That was something she refused to live again.

"How disappointing," She thought. He was must certainly not outlaw material. His morals would get in the way. As to what brings me into town, to be honest my horse did. As I said earlier, its been a long hard trail. And a town with the prospect of paying work is always a welcome sight." He said and she scoffed as he went to pay for his drink. It was only water. "There's no paying work in outlaw lands, especially for those with our--" her fingers crawled up his arm like a spider. "color.." She said, "The only thing here to do, is drink, fuck, kill or be killed." She said, and grabbed his bills, and dropped down her own.

"For the entertainment." She explained, pushed his bills back toward him, which for a renowned theft, was quite the sight to behold.

"Your morals are going to get killed in this town,Cole Black-thorn, you'd best be on your merry way. I'd hate such pretty face go to waste." She said, brushing his chin with her finger and thumb before standing. She found in that moment, that if she wanted information for her own work, she wasn't going to get anything good here, besides the swill tasted like piss anyway, She knew of a better place for that. She was glad she came thought, Cole Black-thorn proved quite the intrigue. Jack and Casey following suit, the boys walked up ahead of her, as Robyn place her hands on Cole's shoulders from behind him, and leaned near his ear, his feathers tickling her skin slightly as her dark hair spilled over her shoulder's and on to his. "But, if you decide to abandoned those morals, You'll find me at Noonan's, it's a brothel and an inn." She said and nipped at his ear. "Can't promise it won't hurt, but you'll live." She whispered, before pressing a kiss to his temple and stood straight. "We'll be leaving first light, you are more than welcome to join us." She said and then walked out with the same swagger that gave her hips their sway, hoping his eyes were on her.

The boys were already waiting for her, Jack on his horse while Casey stood with his and hers. Jack looked eager. Casey, dubious.
"You think he'll join us?" Casey asked, strong arms holding both the reins of his horse and hers. and Robyn merely smiled, twirling her prize between her fingers. "Don't know, but he'll find me." She said, and mounted her horse. "I have something of his." She said, brushing the black feather against her chin before they rode off in a cloud of dust towards Noonan's.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

His eyes were in fact on her. Except only partly because of her, admittedly fabulous, body and swaying hips. He knew she had his feather. His adornments were as much a part of him as his arm, or his leg. And the fact that she'd taken it somewhere between annoyed and enraged him. It was more than an adornment for him, it was part of him, part of his spirit.

He shoved the bills back in his buckskin pouch and made to leave. He was about to leave when he felt the cold steel of a gun pressed against the back of his head. "Really, this shit again?"

Jeb wiped froth from the corner of his mouth as he cocked the hammer of the revolver back. "You shouldn't have done that Red, now you're gonna pay. And dont think I forgot about your little friend. Her kind aint welcome either. So after you, we're going for that pretty little ni..."

He never got to finish that statement as his arterial blood was sprayed across the wall. Almost faster than thought Cole had drawn his tomahawk and brought the business end across the bigots neck. His face was hard and cold as he brought the weapon back across, finishing the decapitation job. Kicking the still standing body backwards into his friend he slowly drew the Colt .45 and eyed the rest of the bar, silently challenging them. Seeing no takers he flicked the blood off of the shining steel blade and holstered the colt.

"Morals dying my ass," he muttered as he left the bar. He made his way back down to the stable. A quick survey of the town as he walked confirmed the location of the brothel and only overnight stay. So, if he wanted to sleep in a bed as well as get his feather back it looked as if he would have to brave the brothel. Seeing as how his blood was still boiling after his encounter with the ebony beauty, he may have to become a client of the brothel. Providing there was someone willing to share the night with a half-breed. Also providing that woman wasn't a black widow, although the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to test his luck.

He was cleaning his tomahawk as he entered the stable. This gave the still shaky stable hand quite a shock as he thought that he was there to finish the job. Giving the man a wide toothy grin he slid the weapon back in its place at his hip. "I'm going to be staying the night at the place across the way. This should cover the nights lodgings and feed for my horse," he said giving the man the bills he'd tried using to pay for his drinks. Looking back at his horse he noticed that the saddle had been taken off of her and was hanging on the sawhorse at the end of the stall his mare was in. She had also been watered and brushed down. "Good work sir, keep that up and you're bound to have a returning clientele."

He walked over to the stall and stood in front of his horse, leaning his forehead against hers. "Okay now Chenoa, be good for the man. I'll be back in the morning." The horse seemed to give a whinny of ascent as she nuzzled him affectionately. This was a horse he'd raised from a foal, she had her own spirit. And she was a part of his family, a part of his spirit. "There there, don't give me any lip, I'll be back," he said patting her neck. He slid the saddlebags off of the saddle and threw them over his shoulder. Then he slid the Winchester out of its holster. Carrying it all easily he made his way across the dusty street and up to the door of the brothel.

Taking a deep breath he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, then walked in. The first thing that hit him was the smell. It was a heady mix of smoke, perfume, liquor, and sex. The second sensory overload was sight. All around him were lounging drunks and working women plying their trade. He wondered how a lot of these women breathed, most of their corsets were so tight. Rolling his eyes, grinning, and shaking his head he weaved his way through the whirling, writhing mass of bodies, making his way towards the desk.

Upon getting there the buxom woman behind the counter gave him a measuring gaze. "What can I help you with dollface," she said, her voice thick with a southern belle accent.

If he was being honest, he was quite surprised. Most people regarded him with some measure of aversion if not fear. This woman and this place however seemed to not give one single shit about him or his color. "One room please."

"With or without service?" She was obviously speaking about a room with a prostitute waiting for him.

"Without, I'll decide if I want service after a bath."

"Well we got plenty that would help you with that sweetie," she said giving him a wide grin and an appraising, lingering look up and down.

"I think I'll take care of that on my own this time, thank you," he said as he stuck the rifle under his arm and fished for the bills. Taking them from him the woman slid them down the front of her bodice and handed him a key from a drawer in the till. "Room 213, last room on the right as you go up those stairs and down the hall."

"Thank you ma'am. Oh, you wouldnt happen to have seen an ebony skinned beauty and two men, one thuggish and one dandy looking, come in here recently have you?"

"Why yes dearie, but for the sake of client privilege I'm afraid I cant tell you where they are."

"I understand fully ma'am, thank you," he said tugging his forelock and starting to head to the stairs.

"You just holler if you need anything or anyone dearie," the belle called after him.

Cole turned his head and gave her a nod and a wink and continued up the stairs. As he climbed he surveyed the room and mass of bodies below him. As keen as his eyes were he couldnt see the Crimson Lady or her cohorts. Perhaps they were in their rooms. Rooms plural, as he was certain she wasn't sharing a room with her subordinates.

His room was fairly standard. The bed was made with decent cotton sheets and there was as simple basin filled with water under a mirror next to a set of drawers. But it was clean, and inside, and thats all that mattered. Tossing the saddlebags and rifle onto the bed he slid out of his poncho styled buckskin shirt and prepared to head to the bath house.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Robyn saw him as he entered, he didn’t see her. Of course not, she was hidden well. She was wearing a dress this time, a deep crimson, so dark it was almost black, hugged her hips, and a red corset, with a sweet heart neckline with black lace framing the bounty beneath, long black gloves stretched up her toned bronze arms, her raven locks spilling down her shoulders hiding the few bullet wounds that adorned her skin. Her amber eyes lined with coal as they had been before, only now her lips were painted in the color of her name sake. She looked ever still the Crimson Lady, but to the untrained eye, she would have looked like one of the many 'players' girls brothels dressed up like famous or infamous women, knowing that some men wanted very much to bed them.

She watched him from above, standing on the second floor and looking down. He was looking for her. She knew he would. If his body didn't want her, his mind surely did. That and she stole his precious feather, which she had tucking behind her ear. She wasn't a fool, she knew he'd come for it, if not for her. She couldn't resist the temptation. She wanted to bait him. She liked the game.

"Lady," called a whore named Maxine, she was a lovely mulatto girl with crème skin and black curls and amber eyes, she wrapped her arms around Robyn, already missing her touch it seemed. "He's here." She said and then clicked her teeth. "Oh," She chuckled. "I'm jealous." She said, and Robyn looked at her. "Oh, Spare me." Robyn jested, though she knew Max was only half joking. Robyn knew what she was doing. "I tease." Max said and slipped from around her, and Robyn dropped two gold coins into her palm for payment. Max sauntered off for the next client. Robyn then ducked behind a wooden pillar, as he made his way up to his room, and closed the door behind him. The viper she was couldn't resist the chase, so she made her way to his room, and without knocking, she entered. She'd seen it all at this point, and was way passed the point of shyness. He'd nearly walked into her, but had the presence of mind to stop.

"Looking for me?" She said, plucking the feather from her hair, and brushing her exposed neck, leaning against the door, her eyes dancing up and down his bare chest unabashed. She noticed, as her eyes made it to his face, his cheeks were flushed, as if he'd been in a fight and she chuckled. "They proved me right, didn't they?" She asked. "Your face is still red---" She paused at the pun with a chuckle and shrugged. "Forgive me for that." She chuckled, and dangled his pillaged feather in front of him. She was sure, he knew the moment he'd reach for it, she'd pull it back, but she hoped anyway. "How many did you kill?" She asked, playing her 'want it, can't have it' game, with his feather.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Of course, of course she'd found him before the other way around. She was in her own territory after all, if this had been the wilderness ten to one odds, he would have tracked her down. And she was dangling his feather in front of him like a parent dangles a shiny toy in front of a child. He knew that trying to take it from her was bound to be a fruitless effort.

He saw her looking him up and down. He wondered exactly what she thought of what she saw. His chest was criss-crossed with various scars from numerous fights over his twenty odd years of life. He wore his gunshot and knife scars almost as proudly as the medicine pouch tied to a leather strap around his neck that rested in the middle of his chest next to the hawks wing tattoo. As much as she was appraising him, he was appraising her. If she was beautiful before she was stunning now. And if he was being honest with himself he was coming closer and closer to wanting to take the chance with the black widow.

He slowly advanced on her until she was up against the door. Dropping his towel and washing supplies to the side he placed a hand against the door next to her head and slightly above. As tall as she was he was slightly taller. "How many did I kill," he asked, ignoring for the time being her playing with his feather. "Just the one. Just the one who dared draw. As for proving you right, no one proved a damn thing. My morals are just as intact as they were before. I do what needs to be done, and I dont hesitate to kill when I need to or provoked. My view is honor on the battlefield. A clean death, a clean kill, no hesitation, no remorse. I follow those, I know I've done all I need to." His voice was low, smooth, and husky, his breath surely hot against her skin. "If you wanted the pleasure of my company you needed just ask, instead of taking what was mine," he said with a slow languid grin. He moved the other hand to just by her waist against the door and leaned in closer. "Now, I'm going to go take a bath," his voice dropped to almost a whisper, "what happens after that, is up to you." As he said that he leaned his head in towards her neck. But instead of his lips making contact with the slender curve of her neck, the higher hand darted down snatching the feather as the lower opened the door. Sliding himself to the side and the door sliding her slightly out of his way, he used his foot the toss his washing bundle into his arm. And with a wink and a blown kiss he started down the hall to the bathing room.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Robyn felt a rush as he walked up to her, backing her into the wall behind her. Her pulse was quick as her head met the wall with a soft thud, his towel, hitting the floor, as his arm pinned her between him and the wall. She was eyeing him, biting her lip, her eyes alight with amusement, and arousal.
"How many did I kill," He asked, and she honestly, forgotten her question.

"Just the one. Just the one who dared draw. As for proving you right, no one proved a damn thing. My morals are just as intact as they were before. I do what needs to be done, and I don't hesitate to kill when I need to or provoked. My view is honor on the battlefield. A clean death, a clean kill, no hesitation, no remorse. I follow those, I know I've done all I need to." He said, his words hot against her skin. It took all she had to lean forward, press herself against him, and test his metal but he leaned in, instead. She honestly, barely registered what he said.

"If you wanted the pleasure of my company you needed just ask, instead of taking what was mine," He purred moving a breath away from her neck, she felt her breath leave her in a small sigh, as she watched his face, and his easy grin. His hand was near her waist, teasing her with what could be. What very well might be.

"Now, I'm going to go take a bath," His voice a mere whisper. "What happens after that, is up to you." He then in a swift moment, snatched the feather from her fingers, and opened the door behind her and was out the door before she had time to catch the breath she didn't know she was holding . Robyn laughed. She liked this game, as she leaned over the banister, watching him as he shot her a wink and blew her a kiss.

Had he been any other man, she would have been done with him then, but instead, she pretended to catch his kiss with a kittenish smile.

As he left, she started for her room, when she stopped in her tracks. He only killed one. "Moral fool..." She hissed. He only killed one of them, which meant they'll sic the bounty hunters on them all.

As fun as he was, and surely would be. She was hidden enough in Noonan's but the moment they stepped out of the inn, they'll be hunted. After her initial panic settled she prepared her mind for the coming fight. Hopefully, with any luck, she's have a good romp with a native before that.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cole never did anything without a reason. He never said anything without a reason. He lived his life by a measured series of events. Not that he wasn’t prone to whimsy, he was, but everything else had a reason behind it. There was a reason he had only killed one of the men.

He made a great show of making his way to the bath houses. He was strutting like a preening peacock, sharing winks, smiles, and even patting a few of the working girls on their ample behinds. He even went as far as to pick up a bottle of whiskey from the bar. He made his presence known. Made it known where he was going. And more than just a few of the working girls took an interest in that fact.

When the gun was drawn on him in the bar he had been faced with three options. Option one, kill everyone in the bar. He would have done it, everyone there was a potential threat, everyone was armed. But that would halve been unnecessarily noisy and certainly would have drawn the attention of at least the bounty hunters if not the lawmen. Option two, kill both of the bigot brothers. Again, not much worth the effort as two dead in the bar would lead someone to run to the bounty hunters. Third option, kill just the one with the gun, obviously the one he’d gone with. They were still going to go get the bounty hunters, but now there was someone stupid enough left to follow him and try to finish the job. And this stupidity could be exploited.

Entering the bath house he set to work. After filling the bath he dimmed the lights and set up a towel and assorted padding to make it look like he was in the bath with his back to the door. He slid out of his buckskin trousers, revealing the simple native loincloth beneath, and folded them up on the table next to the door. Here he also placed his colt and tomahawk, keeping the hunting knife. He made noise, made it seem as if he was actually taking a bath.

After a few minutes he quieted down and slipped out of the side, working girls door. Said door lead into the neighboring bath which was currently occupied by a large man lounging in the tub drinking and smoking a large cigar while being bathed and lounged on by two less than clothed women. The man made a start and almost spilled his drink, startling the working girls that were fawning over him.

Cole immediately brought a finger up to his lips and winked. “Don’t worry, I’m just waiting for a friend of mine. Won’t be but a couple of minutes. Imagine I’m not here.” He strode over to the door and slightly cracked it, watching for his “friend”. The man sputtered as if to protest then finally took a good look at the muscle bound half breed with the large hunting knife in this loincloth. After that he have a huff, had his cigar relighted, and decided he was lucky to have the two women fawning over him even if it was for gold not because of his physique.

Every so often he would glance back to find one of the women letting her own gaze wander from her client to his own form. Each time he would just grin then glance back at the other man as if to say, “maybe later, but he’s the one paying you now.” Eventually a darting figure outside caught his attention. The figure slunk his way to the door that Cole had entered originally. He saw the figure draw a pistol and slowly slide open the door. As the figure entered, Cole exited with a final wink to the girls.

The figure leveled the pistol on the back of the silhouette in the tub. “You’re going to pay for what you did to Jeb Red, You’re going to pay.”

“Wrong again,” Cole said right before hitting the man on the back of the head with the butt of his knife.

When the man woke he was naked and tied in the tub with Cole sitting on a stool next to the tub. "Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you're going to answer them. Do we understand each other?"

"Fuck you red. Fuck yo..." the rest of the epithet was lost in gurgling as his head was forced under the hot water.

Yanking him back above water by the hair Cole sighed. "Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you're going to answer them. Do we understand each other?"

"Ye...Yes..." the man said, sputtering and spitting water.

"Now, what's your name shitsack."

"Bobby, Bobby Rai.." his head was forced underwater and brought back up.

"Just the first name is fine bobby. Now, when will the bounty hunters be here. I know you called them, or someone did. And I also know there's none in this town. So which one, and how long will it take them to get them and their men here."

Bobby sputtered and cleared his mouth and nose as he tried to answer. "James Quinto, he was the next town over. He'll be her in the morning and he's going to stick his guns so far up your red..."

Cole forced the mans head underwater and held it there for a while. James Quinto was coming, perfect. Jerking Bobbys head back up he patted him on the cheek. "Good work buddy, good work. Have a drink," he said as he poured whiskey into the mans mouth.

Bobby sputtered and spat, "the fuck you trying to do red."

"Just shut up and drink, or its back under the water for you." Cole spoke as if he was speaking to a child and telling them to eat their vegetables. Over the next couple minutes Bobby had drank the entire bottle. "Good boy, good boy, now its time for a nap," he said right before hitting him on the back of the head again. Bobby slipped under the water and was held there by Cole until he could no longer feel a pulse. When that was done with he cut the ties on Bobbys hands and placed empty bottle next to the tub. Then gathering his stuff he moved to the bath house next to his original one and actually took his bath.

Everything he told The Crimson Lady about his personality and views were technically true. But what he'd conveniently left out was his policy of no quarter. When he was doing a job or on the hunt, nothing on this earth would stand in his way for very long. The fact that he resorted to his wits instead of his brawn to remove the obstacles was what made him unique. What he'd told her about himself seemed to have the desired effect, she underestimated him. Thought him to be weak, that he wouldn't do what needed to be done. And if it came down to it, it might give him just the edge he would need to escape from that clash alive. He fervently hoped it didnt come to that, but he'd been surviving too long to not see the possibility.

When he'd finished his bath he made his way back into the brothel. Sliding through the crowd he ended up at the front counter in front of the sweet southern belle. "Hey, the man in the bath house next to mine seemed to be getting very drunk very loudly, then all of a sudden it stopped. In the morning you may want to send someone to check up on him." Then with a wink he started up the stairs. Reaching the top he met Jack Dandy, "Hey Jackie, let your boss know that I'm got something for her in my room." Then without another word he disappeared into his room and started unpacking his saddlebags.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image
Robyn had done her own bathing, away from then men, she sat in a porcelain tub reserved for only the women. She leaned over the edge, her head resting on her arm, a bottle of rum in her hand, considering...everything.

They were running low on gold, their last score had been a big on, a bank heist some months ago and they'd been living on that for a while, but now they were getting close to running out. They needed something big, a train heist maybe, but that would require some heavy planning, and more men. The three of them could do it but the chances of failure was high, higher still if she brought on more men, who thought themselves outlaws, but weren't. She needed cunning, intelligence, patience.

She needed Cole Black-thorn.
She hated to admit it, but she wanted him in on their next heist. She already knew Casey wasn't overly thrilled with the prospect. He tolerated Jack, mostly because she wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, and while in the beginning he tried to sweet talk her which resulted in her smashing his manparts into this throat, he'd found himself holding his tongue, he respected her as an outlaw, having allowed him to exact revenge on his father. A French prick who liked little boys.

Casey, was with her from the beginning, when they were running with BlackJack's Gang. She was the Red Queen, and Casey was the Ace. The two of them fled together when BlackJack and the other "Card" were hanged after one of them had betrayed them to a bounty hunter. She took a bullet that day, and Casey carried her out.

They shared a bed once, having lost nearly everything and had much too much rum. Neither of them forgot it, but they never brought it up. It was just something that happened and was likely never going to happen again.

So of course, Casey wasn’t thrilled with her near immediate liking to Blackthorn, and she couldn’t blame him too much. She didn't know why she'd been drawn to him and she wouldn't deny how badly she wanted him in her bed but it wasn't just that. He seemed to be a kindred spirit, if she believed in such a thing. She didn't know why, but she felt he could relate in a way that neither Casey nor Jack could. They were born white, born free. Cole's land was stolen from him, She was stolen from her land.

Perhaps that was it.

She pulled herself from her bath and wrapped herself in a towel, and began drying her hair when there was a knock at her door. "What?"
Image

"It's Jack, The red guy says he's got something for you in his room? Tell me he's not that dumb." Jack said and Robyn shook her head with a laugh. "Tell him, he can give it to me here, in my room." She said, and she could almost see Jack's shoulder slump. "You know, Boss, I love ya, but...Come on..." He said through the door. "Do it Jack, and I'll put in a good word for you with Max." She said, and with that, Jack's boots echoed down the hall.

She took a seat on her bed, leaving the towel wrapped around her body. If he came, he did, if he didn't, she wasn't going to chase him. She liked the chase, as much as she liked to be chased. He was a native after all, don't they like to hunt?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The knock on his door told him that it wasn't the Lady. Looking up from the hollowed out cow horn that held his ritual paint and herbs and such, he sighed and walked over to the door. Opening it he surprised Jack, "oh, the boss says, and I quote 'he can give it to me here, in my room' end of message." With that he tipped his hat and made a beeline towards a particularly pretty girl.

Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders he carefully placed the horn back on the table next to the colt. Taking the tomahawk he slid it back into its place by his hip. He wasn't expecting anything to happen, but he wasn't going to take any chances either. Glancing down both directions of the hall he slid out of his room and locked it behind him. He then started down the hall towards the Crimson Ladies room.

From some distance away he started walking silently on the balls of his bare feet, making no noise as he crept up to her door. Slowly testing the handle he found it unlocked and grinned to himself. This was certainly going to be interesting. He slowly opened the door just enough for him to slip through, and slid through soundlessly as he closed the door. He surveyed the room and found her sitting on the bed in her towel but she didn't seem to have seen him yet. So then swiftly and completely silently he strode up to where he was standing over her on her blindside.

"Well, here I am, and as I said I do have something for you." His voice was low and husky as he spoke, "information, and perhaps an explanation."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Robyn, brushed out her thick dark hair, the water having return it to its more natural state, a mess of wild curls. She'd heard most of the goings on but was surprised to find she hadn't heard him coming. She felt his presence, it was enough to make an empty room feel crowded, so he didn't startle her, which would have been bad for him. She had her colt tucked neatly beneath her pillow. He floated behind her, and she didn't bother to move. She'd been through far to much to be caught off guard, in a brothel no less.


"Well, here I am, and as I said I do have something for you."
His voice was low, wolfish, which meant he was toying with her. She merely turned her head. "information, and perhaps an explanation."

"Shame." She said, turning to him, looking him up and down. "a damn shame" She said, and didn't bother to dress, or cover herself more than she was, only tossing her hair behind her back. If he were paying attention, he'd have noted the lines of scars across her back, whip marks, while not uncommon among her race, hers were neat, not the hash marks of the whip randomly hitting her back, but as if someone took their time, thoughtfully placing each line beside the other.

"You've come to tell me that you're foolish morals have brought the bounty hunters this way, surely be here by morning, and we'll have to either kill them all or dash off before they arrive." She said, annoyance touched her tone, but there was still a playful flirting in it as well. "then you'll tell that you wanted them here, that this is a part of your grand plan." She said, and chuckled. "Correct if I'm wrong, though knowing you, you don't need to be told that." She said, finally turning to him, crossing her legs on the bed, the towel kept her modest, but her thighs were still exposed, and looking closely, there were scars there too.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

He grinned and pulled up a chair next to the bed, propping up his legs next to hers. He had in fact noticed the scars on her back and legs. The depravity of some people still somehow managed to surprise him. Her cynicism about his morality and the "problems" it presented made him chuckle. The chuckle turned into a laugh.

"Oh my ebony beauty, if you only knew. Yes the bounty hunters are arriving, yes in the morning no less. But as for it being my morals bringing them here, you couldn't be farther from right. I'm doing some hunting of my own, James Quinto, I'm sure you know the name. Famous bounty hunter, renowned bigot, known as the bulldog. He's also actively hunting down the both of us actually. Though my reason for hunting him is purely personal, he killed a friend of mine. So he's been marked for a bullet to the skull." He smiled again, this time a predatory, cold grin. "Or a blade to the throat," he said running his thumb along the edge of his tomahawk blade.

"Now as for explanation, I have a few confessions to make. First, I knowingly picked this town because I knew Quinto was in the next one over. Secondly, I picked the two bigots up off the floor because I knew it would piss off at least one of them into drawing on me. Thirdly, I killed the both of them, only one didn't know he was dead until about twenty minutes ago. When he decided to take a swim, in the tub, with my hand holding him under water. Fourthly, no matter what happened at that bar, I was going to make sure that the bounty hunters were called, one way or another. This way allowed me to get details and information before finishing the job." He smiled more warmly this time. "I'm sorry you got pulled into this, but on the other hand." He took his feet off the bed and leaned forward towards her. "I'm certainly glad I finally got to witness the beauty of the Crimson Lady first hand."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

"Oh my ebony beauty, if you only knew. Yes the bounty hunters are arriving, yes in the morning no less. But as for it being my morals bringing them here, you couldn't be farther from right. I'm doing some hunting of my own, James Quinto, I'm sure you know the name. Famous bounty hunter, renowned bigot, known as the bulldog. He's also actively hunting down the both of us actually. Though my reason for hunting him is purely personal, he killed a friend of mine. So he's been marked for a bullet to the skull."
He said with a smile that had blood lust written all over it. "Oh." She said intrigued. ."Or a blade to the throat," He said, his thumb dancing over the edge of the blade. She grinned. "Sounds like fun." Was her response before he went on.

"Now as for explanation, I have a few confessions to make. First, I knowingly picked this town because I knew Quinto was in the next one over. Secondly, I picked the two bigots up off the floor because I knew it would piss off at least one of them into drawing on me. Thirdly, I killed the both of them, only one didn't know he was dead until about twenty minutes ago. When he decided to take a swim, in the tub, with my hand holding him under water" To that, she laughed. "Fourthly, no matter what happened at that bar, I was going to make sure that the bounty hunters were called, one way or another. This way allowed me to get details and information before finishing the job." He said, before his smile turned warm, almost sympathetic, which wasn't something she appreciated. She needn't anyone sympathy, only their gold, or their blood, or as with most cases both. "I'm sorry you got pulled into this, but on the other hand." He then removed his feet, and leaned in toward her. "I'm certainly glad I finally got to witness the beauty of the Crimson Lady first hand." He said, and she smirked. He was exactly what they needed for a big heist. Someone as methodical as he was, planning, -nearly- everything in advanced, would be a welcomed reprieve from her being the one to do it. She liked being the boss, especially of two white men but even still, it was a tiresome job, which wasn't idle for someone who rarely slept. She moved in close, allowing her towel to dip down enough that if he wanted to, he'd get an eyeful of what most men saw before death, her lips were just a kiss away from his..

"Don't apologize, because if you think my beauty was something, wait til you see my wrath." She whispered. "I haven't gotten to kill anything in a while, and since someone likes to tease, I need to let it out somehow, right?" She said, coyly before a grin curled her full lips. "They all know I'm here now, surely every bounty hunter, and wannabe bounty hunter, will be on their way, to gift me, my hemp necklace." She said, "I don't intend on hanging anytime soon, so I plan to kill them all." She said matter of factly, before leaning back, resting on her elbows, and uncrossing her legs, the towel keeping her hips and what lie beneath covered, but the rest of her was bare for him to enjoy. "Now, if you survive this encounter, and I would be greatly disappointed, if you didn't, how about you join me, I could use a man like you in my gang, Jack likes you enough, Casey doesn't, which means you'll be a perfect fit." She said and looked him up and down. "Besides, you'll be the only man to survive a night with me..." She said, basically letting him know, she was not letting him leave this room without giving her what she wanted, she rose a hand, holding it out to him for him to take. "Say yes."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

He made no attempt to hide the fact that his eyes were drinking in every inch of her. He rose from his seat and placed the knee closest the bed next to her waist as he leaned over her. Her extended hand ended up resting on his broad shoulder as he leaned his face close to hers, the wolfish grin adorning his face. One of his hand rested lightly on her hip and softly glided up to rest at the bottom of her ribs while the other was braced against the bed under her raised arm. His lips lightly brushed against the nape of her neck and lightly glided up the gentle curve of her neck and across her cheek. His blood was boiling and her scent and sight was intoxicating. "Yes," he whispered into her ear, his voice hot and low.

"But not tonight, I've a trap to set, and we've both a fight to rest up for," he said just before brushing his olive lips against her crimson and drawing away swiftly. "Because sure as shooting, if it happened tonight, neither of us would be in any condition to fight off the hunters," he said with a wink. "Maybe tomorrow after the initial fun has died down." And with that he stole out of the room, as swiftly and quietly as he'd entered.

"You're playing a dangerous game Cole," he whispered to himself as he entered his own room. He knew exactly what he was getting into, and if he was being honest, he was enjoying every second of it. But for the time being he had a trap to prepare. He quickly slipped into a darker pair of buckskin trousers he withdrew from his saddlebags and dusted himself with some soot from the fireplace. Then slipping out of the window he slid down one of the banisters, landing lightly at the alley below.

Stealing across the street he snuck into the stable. The rotund stable hand was sound asleep in his chair. Padding up next to the man Cole clamped a hand over the mans mouth and raised a finger to his lips, indicating the mans silence was required. The terrified man simply nodded and tried to keep from crying as Cole saddled Chenoa. Leading her out of the stable he crossed the street again and tied her up in the alley beneath his window. Taking the bedroll off the saddle he unrolled it and withdrew four small sticks of dynamite, and a sack of nails. After pressing the nails into the sticks of dynamite he buried them just under the surface of the road in various strategic places, marking each plot with a small sprig of sagebrush. Which was a fairly common sight around these parts and was almost guaranteed to go unnoticed.

After this was all done he climbed back up into his room. At the end of the hall next to the ebony beauties room was a kind of foyer room. What was important about it was that it had a series of windows that overlooked the road beneath. He carefully pried one of the panes of glass out with his knife and placed it on the ground next to the window. His firing nest was set up.

He stole back to his room and cleaned the soot off of his body using the small basin under the mirror. The next twenty minutes were spent making sure each of his weapons were properly cleaned, maintained, and ready for the morning. The ten after that was preparing his ritual battle paint, chanting in his mothers native tongue as he did so, imbuing the paint with the spirit and power of his guardian the Hawk. He placed the paint respectfully off to the side and slid into his bed for much needed rest.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Robyn bit her lip, her body ablaze as he moved to the bed, crawling up over her. Typically she didn't like being beneath any man, not after what happened but her anxiety gave way to pure excitement. Her hand met his skin, as his slithered around her hip, it's twin crawled up her body, resting just beneath the swell of her chest a moment before bracing himself on the bed, the mattress groaning in the process. his grin made her purr as her amber eyes watched him leaned down, until his lips met her skin, then her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted in a soft sigh, as he brushed his lips up her neck and to her cheek. Her fingers reached up his back, tangling in his midnight hair, as his lips reached her ear. He offered a soft [b]"Yes," and Robyn turned her head toward him, lust in her eyes, as his lips left her ear. Glad to have gotten her way. "But not tonight, I've a trap to set, and we've both a fight to rest up for," but before she could proest, his lips met hers. She breathed in his kiss, and, like an string pulled taut, he broke the kiss. She had to swallowed to get her breath. "Because sure as shooting, if it happened tonight, neither of us would be in any condition to fight off the hunters," He said, with a wink, and she was too in shock to respond to that. Was he telling her no? Was she being denied? Was she being played? These were all things that did not sit well with the Crimson Lady. She wanted, she wanted too much, he'd given her too much to be denied like this. She didn't appreciate that in the slightest. No one toys with her like that. That was her game. "Maybe tomorrow after the initial fun has died down." He added, before slipping out of the room, leaving Robyn colder for it ." Fool me once...." She sighed, watching after him.



The next morning, Robyn was dressed in her usually get up, black cowboy boots with red paisleys embroiled into them. Black chaps, with sharp spurs, her twin colts tucked into a holster that hung around her shapely hips, a black corset around her small naval, reaching up and hugging her bountiful chest, which was wrapped in a high colored crimson red colored shirt, symmetrical black embroidery decorating the high part of her chest, and dancing down the red sleeves, a black duster billowing around her, adorned with red stitching, and to top it off, a black cowboy hat with red embroidery to match the boots.
Knowing there will be a lot of riding and fighting, she added a red black bandana to cover her face. She was bandit after all, though it sat around her neck, like a scarf.

She met with the boys, who were seated at one of the drinking tables. Casey in perfect health, while Jack seemed to be still shaking off for the prior night's activities.
Good for him.

"So, Boss Lady?" Jack asked, adjusting his bolo tie. "Where's your red man?"

"Around." She said, plainly. Both Casey and Jack seemed to be waiting for more, and when it didn't come, Casey piped up. "So? Did you get what you wanted?" That was a loaded question, and only she knew why.

"Yes, and No." Se said, she was never shy with them before, and she wasn't going to start now.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense, Boss, what happened?"

"He'll join us, I do believe." She said, as she threw her leg up on the table with a thud, and strapped her bowie knife's hoslter to her thigh. Both of the men watched, Jack even turning his head to get a good look. She didn't mind the extra attention, while she would never admit it, her ego had been brusied. She'd gotten used to getting her way through the means of sex, that was something she never had to work for, if she wanted it, she got it. Hell, even if she didn't want it, she got it. For her to be out right denied, and after being so thoroughly teased, did not sit well with her.

"You believe?" Casey inquired. "Did you....Ya know?" Jack offered next. Robyn looked at him. "He just said yes, and I didn't even have to fuck him."

Both men looked dumbfounded. "Well is he, queer? Jack mused, and Casey snorted. Robyn shook he head, her mind playing the way he touched her, the way he kissed her. "Not even a little..." She said, he knew his way around a woman's body too well for that to be the case "He's playing a game, it seems, his excuse was that we have a hell of a fight coming this morning, and we needed all the rest, and he was sure we wouldn't have much " She said, and Jack shook his head. "Nah, I think he's queer, fucking hell if I didn't fu--" Casey shot Jack a look that stopped his words in his throat. "Seriously, I'd hang myself before I told her no." He said and Robyn chuckled "Most men would..." She said, " But he has a point, the hunters are coming, we need clear heads." She said and Jack shrugged, propping his legs up on the table, and reclining back in his chair "Never needed a clear head to kill someone."
"You never had a clear head to begin with." Casey jeered, kicking the chair out from under him, making Robyn chuckle. She let those two go on, while she looked ahead, wondering where her red tease had been the morning and how long it would take for the bounty hunters to arrive.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cole had watched the entire exchange between the gang from his spot just in the shadows at the top of the stairs. He'd already been awake since dawn preparing for the battle. He'd first stowed the rest of the gear he wasn't going to use on the back of his horse then actually released her tether. He had then set down to the rigorous and deceptively precise art of applying his warpaint. His chest and arms were bare but for the paint, the arm circlets that went up his left arm, and his medicine pouch. His hair was tightly braided and hung down the middle of his back, his mohawk standing proud and tall. the feathers were wound into the braid instead of hanging from the hair.

From his nose down his neck was painted solid red, with black hand-print over his mouth nose and part of his left cheek. From the shaved parts of his head came red streaks that met the block red as if he'd run bloody fingers down his face. the spaces in between the red stripes were filled in with white. Red and black stripes ran from each shoulder in a diagonal across his chest, meeting in the exact middle of his sternum then trailing off after that. There was a red hand-print directly over his heart. His right arm had various winding symbols in black and red winding up his arm.

At his waist he had his usual rig. A gun belt that held the old Colt on his left, and his tomahawk on his right, the hunting knife was strapped to the back of the belt. He also had a belt that was lined with Winchester rounds hung on his hips. The Winchester itself was held easily in his right hand.

He looked every inch the Apache Warrior.

To signal his presence he made a startlingly realistic bird-call whistle as he racked the lever on the Winchester by spinning it by the lever. "They're already here, if I'm not mistaken," he said grinning devilishly. While it was his usual easy grin, it somehow managed to look dire and sinister with the paint. "I'm just going to say hello if you'd care to join me," this to Madam Crimson with a wink. He then made for the window he'd taken the pane out of. From there he was sure he'd see James Quinto and his men setting up for the attack.

He was right. The bulldog was certainly setting up for his attack, quietly ordering his men into position. From the looks of it there were at least twenty, maybe twenty five men armed with an assortment of 6-guns, rifles, and shotguns.

This was going to be fun.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Robyn frowned at the whistle that rang out in the bar. She turned to find Cole Black-Thorn, prepared for battle like it was the Alamo all over again. She was still sore from his aversion last night, and all this get up did was making her what to drag her teeth across that red skin of his, wondering how his paint would fare once he'd worked up a sweat. Would she be covered in it?

It was her color after all.

She merely rose an eyebrow, as the boys stood up. Jack, never been one for coyness, looked at him like he was the demon seed of Davey Jones, while Casey appraised him quietly.
"They're already here, if I'm not mistaken,"  He said, and she narrowed her eyes and looked down toward the window, the sun beginning to raise up over the horizon. She looked back at him, his easy smile was replaced with one she wore all too often.
"I'm just going to say hello if you'd care to join me,"
He said, and started for the window.

ImageWait here." She told the boys. She heard Jack whispered to Casey. "She's not used to being told no, huh?"
"Nope." Was Casey's reply.

She sauntered up to Cole, grabbing him by the shoulder, turning him toward her sharply "You stole something from me yesterday," She said, and she gave him a moment before continuing. "I want it back." She said, and before he had time to protest, she grabbed the medicine pouch by the string and pulled him down into her hungry kiss. She couldn't help herself, she really couldn't. Even if it was only a kiss, she wanted to be the tease, not the other way around, and she wanted him to be just as frustrated as she was. Her fingers wrapped around the back of his head, grasping his scalp with a clawed grip as her lips worked his, it wasn't a lovely kiss, it was only partially lustful, it was mostly violent, like a fight, a battle between lips that she was hell bent on winning.

She wanted more of him, he was a conquest now, he didn't know it, but she would let the kiss do for now, and take out her frustration on the bounty hunters. She pulled back, letting her teeth capture his bottom lip as she pulled away.

"There." She said. "I have my kiss back." She said, and shoved him back, mindful of his war paint. She wasn't ready to mess that up yet, she'd save that for later.

She took a breath, and waved for her boys to join her.

Jack found this all amusing, as he chuckled, Casey, was clearly not please, and she cared little for either opinion.

"You can go ahead and say hello ." She said with a nod, as she pulled up her bandanna, the boys did the same. "We'll follow your lead." She said, all the more the leader of the outlaw gang that she was and not the hellcat in heat that he'd left her the night before.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The kiss caught him off guard but didnt surprise him. She needed to save face, as well as work out the sexual tension he'd undoubtedly left her with. But he couldn't just let her win without putting up some sort of a fight now could he? So when she kissed him he kissed right back, his free hand catching her by the waist and pulling her close. While she won the battle, he was nowhere done with the war. The hunt was too much fun, and this was prey he was willing to play with for a while.

The kiss had remarkably done nothing to mess up his warpaint. It was made to withstand battle and would only come off with a long careful process of scrubbing. He was tempted to let her help with that.

He turned to the rest of the gang. Casey looked as if he'd eaten raw sour pork and Jack looked equal parts amused and as if he'd seen the devil. "Its simple, when I start shooting, you start shooting. And keep shooting until everyone on that street besides me, and trust me I will end up down there, is dead. But Quinto is mine," he said, iron edging his voice.

He returned to the window and peeked out behind the curtain. It looked as if the men were finally finishing up getting into position and James looked like he was about to do his usual call out speech. Cole cut in first.

"James fucking Quinto, now what can a little red injun boy do for you today," he called out in a conversational tone.

James seemed to be taken aback by someone daring to interrupt his shtick. He drew one of the very pretty pear handled pistols from his paired holsters and cocked the hammer back. Like Cole was going to give him a chance to use it. "I think you know damn well Red. Murder in the first degree here, three in Boonestown, two more in Falsemo, and god knows how many others you've scalped outside of civilized society."

Cole rolled his eyes and took careful aim through the curtain at Quinto. "And you know as damn well as I do those men were killed in self defense. And how fucking bigoted of you to assume I've scalped people. I've never even thought about scalping anyone." Until just now that was, he thought to himself.

"Well, we may know that. But the law is the law, you're red and they're dead. And it also seems you've shacked up with the infamous Crimson Lady. The black widow. Now I dont much care if you lay down your guns and surrender its going to end the same for you and your colored friend."

"You're certainly right about that," Cole said right before firing the Winchester. The bullet found purchase in the bigots wrist, blowing a hole in that you could pass a gun barrel through. The man screamed as he dropped his precious pistol and clutched his shattered wrist. Changing aim quickly Cole snapped off another shot.

This one found its way into the first of the sticks of dynamite. The resulting explosion shook the building they were in. Cole gave an equally loud whoop as he saw three or four of the men diving for cover as two of them were shredded by the explosion and the flying nails.

The battle had begun, and there was blood in the warriors eyes.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
"Its simple, when I start shooting, you start shooting. And keep shooting until everyone on that street besides me, and trust me I will end up down there, is dead. But Quinto is mine," He said, and she shrugged as if to say, fair enough.

"You know what to do." She told Casey and Jack nodded before parting. Jack going high, while Casey stayed low. Robyn found the window opposite Cole's.

She pulled her twin Colt's and readied.
While the two of them bantered, Robyn was counting. Besides Quinto, which it seemed was off limits, anyway, there were a totally of seven men.

She accounted for ten, just in case.

"...And it also seems you've shacked up with the infamous Crimson Lady." She heard Quinto say, calling her back to the conversation. She gave a womanly wave of her fingers, as if she'd been introduced. "The black widow. Now I don't much care if you lay down your guns and surrender its going to end the same for you and your colored friend." He said and Robyn rolled her coal lined eyes. They all said the same thing. It was tired. Either they were gonna kill her, fuck her, or fuck her then kill her. Once she'd even gotten that they'd fuck her dead corpse. That was a refreshing change. Regardless they all met with the same fate.

Her eyes moved to Cole, watching for when he'd fire, she knew he was going to. She would have, had this been her fight. She would have blew his damn head off while he spoke, knowing it would catch him off guard.

Instead, Cole shot him through the wrist, making him drop his pretty gun. Robyn could have laugh, would have, had she'd not be preparing for battle. He was just a bounty hunter, picking the bigger, prettiest gun he could find, it was like a woman, it was just for show, there was no thought to the weight, he probably got lucky enough for it not to break his damn wrist. Her gun was thoughtfully chosen, fit her hands, adjusted for her strength. It showed what his didn't. That she knew what the hell she was doing.

Well, none of that matter now anyway.

Cole fired another shot and much to everyone's surprise, it triggered an explosion, sending dust and debris flying everywhere. She had to duck to avoid dust in her eyes. "Fucking hell, You could have told me about that, Red." She told him, before, rising back to the window, and firing through the dust. Test shots, to draw them out of the plume.

One dove out to the right, and before his body met the ground, her bullet flew true, striking him in the temple. She heard shots being fired from above, Jack having found high ground, in one of the room, eagle eye that one, picking off two that ran. Casey, having no need for a gun, as one of the men thought to sneak up on them, no knowing the Fair Giant, had been in one of the adjacent buildings, snatch him and disappeared out of Robyn's sight. She knew her exchange with Cole, got him all sorts of pent up, so that man just met with a terrible fate.

Robyn fired off two more shots, before deciding she might have been called Lady, but she was not above getting her hands dirty. "Cover me, Red." She told Cole, as she grabbed ahold of the window, and flung herself through it, rolling to a stop, she dashed out.

There was about 2 maybe three left, and the dust was clearing, she had to give at least one of them her signature send off. She wanted to be blamed for this, she wanted the world to fear her. Sure, he was after Cole, but history, would believe this was her.

She found one, who'd had his face blow half to hell from the explosion, crawling for cover. She inwardly groaned. The last thing she needed was for Man of High Morals up in arms about clean kills and what not, so she put a bullet in his skull as she walked by. Suddenly, she was grabbed. She hadn't seen him coming since she'd been looking at the scorched one, but it didn't matter.

"You know, I'd heard about you, I thought they were lying when they said you was pretty. Didn't think you're kind came in pretty." Said her captor, as one arm was around her neck, while his free hand took her gun from her hand. He kissed her cheek. "I'm gonna have fun with you." He said, and Robyn hissed. "Me first." She said, and allow his big arm to anchor her, as she drew up her legs, and threw them back, tossing him over her shoulder. They both clamored to their feet, but Robyn drew her bowie knife and held her stance. Her assailant was huge, and bald. He sneered at her. "You're gonna cut yourself with that thing, Little girl." He told her and she smiled. "Worried for me?"
"Don't want you dying too soon, never had a dark one before."
"You couldn't handle me." She purred as he charged. She spun out of his way at the last possible moment, and in a swift movement, she slammed her knife in to his back, making him arch back in pain. She sent a swift kick into his knee, buckling him, before he had time to even think.

He went to a knee, and she was behind him, like a shadow, and wrapped her hand around his forehead, and slamming her blade into his back, paralyzing him from the waist down. "Told you, you couldn't handle me" She whispered like a lover into his ear. She looked up, seeing the dust clear and the dead scattered about. Her eyes found Cole, where ever his was, if he was paying attention to her or not, she didn't care. "Look at me." She hissed to her captive, "I want my face to be the last you see, look at me." She told him, and while he seemed to defiant as he looked at her, knowing what was to come "You little..." He didn't get to finish, as, like a cellist, she held his head against her chest, and dragged her blade across his throat. She held him as he gurgled, blood flowing down his chest, spattering on to her clothes, but she didn't care, she just held him, as he thrashed, and fought, choked and gargled, until he didn't anymore. She pushed his head and his body hit the dirt with a loud thud. She cleaned her blade on her thigh and dropped it back in it's sheath, sauntering back to where the others were.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cole Black-Thorn Character Portrait: Robyn Sheva||The Crimson Lady
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

From the corner of his eye he saw the reinforcements start pouring in from the various buildings. There were about 15 total. Snapping off three quick shots in succession he blew the rest of the dynamite. Three explosions in quick succession filled the air with dust, nails, and blood as the better part of the charging men were torn to shreds.

With a blood curdling war cry he jumped feet-first through the window and slid along the slightly angled roof and landed on the ground in a roll. He had already cast his rifle aside and drawn his tomahawk. One of the assailants came stumbling out of the cloud, desperately clutching a sawed off shotgun. Cole charged the man, grabbing the wrist holding the shotgun he stripped it from him as he swept the mans leg. Dropping to one knee with the man he brought his tomahawk down on the mans neck as he flipped the shotgun around in his hand. Firing off a salvo at each of the two other men stumbling out of the dust he blew them back, their chests shredded.

From the corner his eye he spotted two more men charging at him, firing revolvers wildly. He let loose another blood curdling Apache shriek and threw himself at the men bodily. Bringing the blade down he severed the hand of the first man and aimed a kick at the chest of the second. Knocking the second back he pivoted on the planted foot and brought the small ax down on the mans forehead, cracking his skull and spilling grey matter over the dusty street. The man who'd lost his hand was crouched on the ground clutching the stump. Cole drew his colt .45 and blasted the back of the mans skull as he walked away.

It seemed as if the rest of the opposition had been pacified and as the dust cleared he saw the Crimson Lady sauntering towards him. He'd seen her kill out of the corner of his eyes and he had to admit he was slightly impressed. Not many people liked to be covered in the blood of their enemies, he was obviously not one of those people as he was veritably drenched in the red. It glistened in the sun as it mixed with his sweat.

From behind the Crimson Lady he saw one of the men slowly rise to his feet and level a shotgun on her back. All she would see would be Cole running towards her giving another war cry as he lobbed his tomahawk seemingly at her face. However, it sailed over her shoulder and embedded itself in the mans skull, wrenching his head back with a sickening snap. "Never drop your guard until you're sure everyone is dead," he said with a smile as he passed her and approached Quinto.

"Hello there, would you like a hand," he quipped as he crouched beside the bleeding Quinto.

"Fuck you," he spat, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Now now, thats no way to treat someone offering to help now is it." He drew his knife and held it, glinting in the sun, in front of the still living dead man. "Now lets get you on your feet," he said as he grabbed the man under the armpits and picked him up bodily. He threw him against the wall. "Now I usually don't do anything like this, but you killed very, very dear friends of mine. Ilyana two leaves, remember her? Medicine woman, shaman, healer, but there was one thing you couldnt stand her being, red." James sputtered and made to speak but was cut off by a right hook to his jaw from Cole. "No, don't speak, just listen you sack of shit. I remember what you did to her. How you used and discarded her after slitting her throat. And what you did to her little brother, there are things not even the great spirit can erase from our eyes."

He reached out and grabbed his man by the hair and wrenched his head up to face him. Forced him to look into Coles cold, hard eyes. Slowly he placed the blade of the knife against the top of the mans scalp. "Again, like I told you, I don't do this. But for their spirits to rest I must even the score." Then slowly, ever so slowly, he started sawing back and forth on the top of the mans head. Slowly scalping the man as he stared into his eyes, cold and impassive. About halfway through he started chanting quietly in his mothers tongue as he finished the gristly job.

When Quinto fell to the floor he was still alive and screaming, the top of his skull exposed. "Stop screaming, this is only a fraction of the pain you wrought on Ilyana and her little brother. And they were just children, and you're supposed to be a man," he spat as he walked over and retrieved his tomahawk. "Now die, die knowing your soul will never find the great beyond, and that you wrought this upon yourself." He then brought the blunt end of the tomahawk down with enough force to split the mans skull into pieces.

He slipped his blades back into their places and carefully rolled the scalp up and tied it with a small piece of twine. This would be ceremoniously burned later that night. But first it was time to skip town before a posse was formed. "He turned to the gathered gang. "Well, guess its time to go," he said the usual cheer in his voice. He gave a sharp series of three whistles and his horse came cantering up from the alley. Grabbing a handful of mane he swung up easily into the saddle and waited for the others to get ready to get the hell out.

cron