Starlette can seem a bit rough around the edges at first. When her wild blonde hair isn't tamed into some sort of ponytail, it's curls tend to overtake her head, which is why she keeps it in a ponytail most of the time. She stands at a intimidating five foot three inches, five foot five with her boots and spurs on. A woman never reveals her secrets, which includes weight, but she will allow you to know that it's somewhere between 100 and 130, go anything above that and you'll find your face to the ground with a boot making a nice indentation into your cheek. Her skin is tanned from long exposure to the sun, and her green eyes are said to be one of her most marking features. Often looked down on (literally) because of her small stature, Star is a slim build with lean muscle. And you best not be askin' about her breast size or nothin'. That's none-ya.
Sure, the girl's got scars, but nothin' to fret over, same as everybody else. She simply looks at each scar as a story of growth or perseverance, heck, she's still alive, ain't she?
-
RPG
-
About RPG »
-
RPG is a community of over 100,000 roleplayers from all around the world.
We build virtual worlds.
-
- Our Rules
- Writing Tool
- 👥 Authors
- 🥇 Achievements
-
₿ Contribute
- Official Patreon »
-
Donate Now with Internet Money
Clicking the code below will launch your Bitcoin wallet, or you can simply scan it with your mobile wallet. Don't have one? Install Copay »
3BZssGaw5HJEeZPhQDR3ExSqfSn1sFWb46
- 👻 Etherpad
- 🏦 Market
- 🎙️ News
-
About RPG »
- ☰ Scenes
- 🏛️ Forum
- 📣 Chat
- 🌐 Universes
- ⛩️ Places
Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »
Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »
Players Wanted: Long-term fantasy roleplay partners wanted » Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! »
Starlette
One shot, that's all I need
0 · 298 views · located in 
Roram
a character in “Gravemakers n' Gunslingers”, as played by TeenyAnn
Description
Personality
Now, now, Star here has a personality to be reckoned with. She's a girl who knows what she wants and won't stop at nothin' to get it. Her past is muddled, but for sure she's been around the roughest of 'em and knows how to get herself out of a tight situation. She's not the typical damsel in distress and doesn't take well to those playboy types. She's seen 'em come and go and knows the game, but heck, if she can get something out of it, she knows how to play too. We all got something in our past that defines us, right? Well Star likes to think otherwise, wanting to forget about the past and live in the now, she takes it one day at a time. But what she may not even realize is that running from the past may be the very thing that defines her. Never liking to give more than a first name, she won't trust anyone as far as she could throw 'em. She's learned better than to trust the kindness of strangers and has been a bit of a nomad, not staying in the same place for too long. What truly makes Star happy is a long day in the sun, either finding some random sort of labor job, or meandering around whatever area she may be squatting in, and than long comfortable nights where she doesn't have to answer to anyone. She's alone, she's learned how to live alone, and she doesn't mind it anymore. Or does she?
Equipment
Well, see, throughout the years Star has gathered a mixture of things that suit her fancy, and even though they haven't always fit right, or been easy to use, she thinks she's found a mix that's works for her just fine. Atop her crazy locks she wears a Sala Outback Cowboy style hat in a dark chocolate like color. Around her neck she wears an emerald green bandana with a silver rose pin pinned and tucked safely away. She's been told it makes her green eyes pop, especially when her eyes are all big and scary when she's about to shoot someone, she likes that idea. She's no fool, either, she wears bulletproof protection underneath her khaki colored button down, it may not be the fanciest of under armor, but it helps. A thick, dark brown belt holds up a pair of army green shorts and is home to her gun holster, tucked securely on her right side. She also sometimes wears a brown cutoff jacket when she's not using it for shade or as a pillow. Her feet are covered in dark brown skinny boots and her hands covered by brown fingerless gloves. All apparel (supposedly) from Gunslinger Gear.
How ever does Star defend herself?
Colt Single Action Army Revolver that she inherited from her Granpap.
One short blade, Man's Worst Friend make
History
What's there that needs to be known about Starlette?
Times are tough, and when it is, a girl has to learn to be tough. I'm not going to tell you that she didn't want to be girly, when she was young all she wanted to do was wear dresses and have her hair done. She dreamed of some young man coming to her rescue to take her off to a land full of wealth and happiness. But dreams can die, and when they do, they die hard. She was introduced to the reality of the world at a young age, a far too young age. Momma had a never-ending case of the shakes, and Poppa sometimes said weird things, and it was never a good idea to be alone with him when he was drinkin'. Tommy, her older brother, had gone up and run away, after promising to come back for her as soon as he had some money.
Momma would sometimes sway around the dining room table humming a scratchy version of a lullaby she used to sing to Star. Then Pop would come home from a long day and grab his bottles. It was the same almost everyday. After a few bad incidents, Star learned to be far away from home before Poppa got there. He never hurt Momma, said she was too sick to deal with, so Star felt okay leaving her alone with him. Star knew Poppa didn't mean to do the things he did, he was just sick.
Every once and a while Granpap would come and visit and those were the happiest times for Star. He was a gentleman and treated her like a princess. He could never stay for too long, but whenever he did, Poppa never got angry or said mean words, so Star was happy.
Tommy never came and Star grew into a young lady, but she was far from a lady. She had to learn how to take care of herself and her Momma so she learned the art of pickpocketing and simple burglary. She didn't mind the way she was living, sure it wasn't the fairytale she wanted as a girl, but she was getting by and she was taking care of her Momma. She couldn't just abandon Momma. It wasn't until her Granpap died and her mother had taken to staying in bed all day that Star got the itch to leave. She had learned Granpappy died when she received a small package. It was wrapped in burlap and tied with twine. When she opened it Granpap's Colt Revolver slid into her hands, the cool metal reminding her of shooting practice in the backyard. Tied around the barrel was a note that read "If the bastard comes near ya, don't be afraid to put a bullet between his eyes.". Poppa was still violent and still said mean words, but Star had learned how to say mean words back. This resulted in more bruises and cuts, but Poppa staggered a bit more now, and Star liked to believe she hurt him.
It was on the morning Star had gone to check on Momma, only to find her cold with a cocktail beside the bed that Star had nothing left. She had no reason to stay, so she didn't. Packing what she could, she set off down the road and didn't look back. She made the rules now, no matter if she had no place to lay her head. There would be no happy ending there. To hell with princes. To hell with Poppa. To hell with home.
So begins...
Starlette's Story
- Seen 31 Times • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
Miles trudged along, ignoring the little speech that Star had given him. He did ignore it, but didn't quite let it off is mind. However, what was really on his mind was Roarek. Yes, that lying scumbag that Miles had made a deal with just hours earlier. Part of him wanted to go up to his little hiding spot and unload all of the lead he could carry, but he knew better than that. The man was powerful, Miles already knew that. Perhaps a bit too powerful? For all he knew, there could be spied everywhere. Miles kept a close eye on his surroundings. The clouds had parted from the full moon, and a halo of moonlight descended upon the town. Miles lit another cigarette while keeping track of the footsteps, windows, just about anywhere a potential spy could be lurking.
Meanwhile, Roger was following close behind, carrying on his conversation with Star. "Ass is an understatement," Star said to him earlier. Roger could tell that she didn't like him very much, and he didn't blame her. First time he met Miles, he pretty much hated the guy. A man with a lot of money and pride can rub people the wrong way. Roger had noticed that Star briefly studied him before asking him the big question. "How can you work for a guy like him?..." Suddenly, a wave of information had come flowing back to him. He was reminded of the day, the day that he and Miles met. She proceeded, "You owe him or something? I can't imagine the two of you being the best of friends. You don't strike me as a type like him."
"You're right," Roger said, "we are nothing alike. To tell you the truth, I hated Miles when we first met. He rubbed me the same impression he did you. A haughty, selfish man who likes to flaunt his money around. With that in mind, I wonder why he even brought us under his wing. See, before Miles found me and the rest of the the bodyguards you're seeing, we were just a tribe of wandering nomads. We dressed and lived in a way that made the mutant tribes to the east seem like high class. We lived miserable lives, going about each day just to find sustenance so that we can see the sun another day. Then, he came along. He brought us all in, giving us food, clothes, shelter, basically everything that we needed in exchange for our loyalty. This is why he and us henchmen seem to have a mutual understanding. Even though you could find more experienced henchmen for hire at New Antetum, Miles took an interest in us. As I got to know him more, he seemed to show a softer side. Really, it seemed like what he really wanted was companionship. Guns for hire can be pretty handy, but they only want money. They don't usually show the same loyalty or mutual understanding that we do. I think Miles took us in because he wanted soldiers that he could trust, soldiers that weren't just in it for the money. For me, he can be a good person when he wants to, but he doesn't usually show it."
Up ahead, Miles walked in silence. As they were walking, Star spoke him. She gave him directions to the hotel they were at before, and Miles nodded. "I got your memo," he said. They took a few more steps before Miles spoke to her again. He spoke in a more pensive tone than he had before. "Okay, I guess I should probably say this now. I know that we haven't been getting along. Hell, we may end up hating each other by the time this is over. The thing is, though, we're after a guy we both want dead, and we both need each other's help to do it. That's why we should just treat this like business if it keeps going on like this. After we're done, we can both go our separate ways, how's that sound?"
Suddenly, Miles was distracted by his talk with Star. He could hear the thud of heavy leather boots walking towards them. Thud. Thud. Thud. They could hear the footsteps get closer until they were standing before a man with an old, worn duster. Miles took one look at his badge and knew what this man wanted. He could see in his eyes that this man had a strict sense of justice, and the will to carry it out without fail. He stared at the man with a cold stare as he was laying down the law. After the man had finished, Miles responded with an emotionless response. "Don't you worry, marshal. No one in this town will be harmed." The marshal casually strolled past the group, but not before mentioning something to star about a pocket watch. The group continued onwards, with Miles letting Star lead them to the hotel.
Meanwhile, Roger was following close behind, carrying on his conversation with Star. "Ass is an understatement," Star said to him earlier. Roger could tell that she didn't like him very much, and he didn't blame her. First time he met Miles, he pretty much hated the guy. A man with a lot of money and pride can rub people the wrong way. Roger had noticed that Star briefly studied him before asking him the big question. "How can you work for a guy like him?..." Suddenly, a wave of information had come flowing back to him. He was reminded of the day, the day that he and Miles met. She proceeded, "You owe him or something? I can't imagine the two of you being the best of friends. You don't strike me as a type like him."
"You're right," Roger said, "we are nothing alike. To tell you the truth, I hated Miles when we first met. He rubbed me the same impression he did you. A haughty, selfish man who likes to flaunt his money around. With that in mind, I wonder why he even brought us under his wing. See, before Miles found me and the rest of the the bodyguards you're seeing, we were just a tribe of wandering nomads. We dressed and lived in a way that made the mutant tribes to the east seem like high class. We lived miserable lives, going about each day just to find sustenance so that we can see the sun another day. Then, he came along. He brought us all in, giving us food, clothes, shelter, basically everything that we needed in exchange for our loyalty. This is why he and us henchmen seem to have a mutual understanding. Even though you could find more experienced henchmen for hire at New Antetum, Miles took an interest in us. As I got to know him more, he seemed to show a softer side. Really, it seemed like what he really wanted was companionship. Guns for hire can be pretty handy, but they only want money. They don't usually show the same loyalty or mutual understanding that we do. I think Miles took us in because he wanted soldiers that he could trust, soldiers that weren't just in it for the money. For me, he can be a good person when he wants to, but he doesn't usually show it."
Up ahead, Miles walked in silence. As they were walking, Star spoke him. She gave him directions to the hotel they were at before, and Miles nodded. "I got your memo," he said. They took a few more steps before Miles spoke to her again. He spoke in a more pensive tone than he had before. "Okay, I guess I should probably say this now. I know that we haven't been getting along. Hell, we may end up hating each other by the time this is over. The thing is, though, we're after a guy we both want dead, and we both need each other's help to do it. That's why we should just treat this like business if it keeps going on like this. After we're done, we can both go our separate ways, how's that sound?"
Suddenly, Miles was distracted by his talk with Star. He could hear the thud of heavy leather boots walking towards them. Thud. Thud. Thud. They could hear the footsteps get closer until they were standing before a man with an old, worn duster. Miles took one look at his badge and knew what this man wanted. He could see in his eyes that this man had a strict sense of justice, and the will to carry it out without fail. He stared at the man with a cold stare as he was laying down the law. After the man had finished, Miles responded with an emotionless response. "Don't you worry, marshal. No one in this town will be harmed." The marshal casually strolled past the group, but not before mentioning something to star about a pocket watch. The group continued onwards, with Miles letting Star lead them to the hotel.
Star walked beside Roger and listened to his story. It softened her a bit because she felt like she could relate to him and his story. In fact, it wasn't long ago before she herself was out on her own without a place to rest. If she hadn't eventually found her way into Roram and gotten help from some people, she probably wouldn't be alive today. So she tried to imagine Miles as something more that a rich nob with nothing but a suit to make him approachable, but it was hard. Maybe if she squinted real hard and turned her head the right way...
Miles turned around and spoke to her. It convicted her at her own rashness, but in her defense he did chase her throughout town. Not really the best way to win a girls confidences. She knew not to let emotion get in the way of negotiations, she had one too many bad nights to count for because she let emotion get the best of her. She looked from Roger to Miles and then to the small group around them. "Alright, I can put differences aside for the time being, but also understand this: I got enough friends in this place that if you doublescross me, they can make things miserable for you." She needed to make sure he was clear on that fact. She may only be one girl, but there were powers higher than her to worry about here.
She was about to respond with more when she too was distracted by the sound of footsteps. Looking in that direction she took in the sight of the marshal before them. Oh no, she knew this guy. He always appeared as a non-violent threat to her, not yet at least. She never did get a long with the law, and this guy was always a stickler for it. She listened to his talk and made sure to keep a straight face when he mentioned her. He began to walk away and she listened while Miles responded.
"Yeah and I don't know what pocket watch you're talking about!" She called after him. Of course she probably did. She did give Trip a pocket watch for his last birthday, but who remembers where she got it from.
She turned back to Miles and beckoned him to follow her. Things were quiet and most vendors were shut down. You could hear the far off clamber of the whore houses and underground casinos, but for the most part only the murmurs for the saloons behind the closed door could be heard. She led them back to the inn they had found her at and motioned for them to wait behind. She sauntered over to the bar and casually leaned against it. Trip was manning the bar and had his back to her, but once he saw her reflection he quickly spun around and reached out to hold her face in his hands.
"Star! You're alright. I was so worried, what happened?!" He searches her face for injury and she slowly removed his hands from her face.
"I'm alright, just a misunderstanding." By this time Trips gaze had found the group behind her and his eyes narrows in suspicion and confusion. Star kept his hands in hers and she tried to steer his eyes back on her. "Trip, I'm gonna need a favor."
"What have you gotten yourself into this time? Why are they here?" He pointed an accusing finger in their direction.
"Trip, I'm going to need a few rooms." She tried to speak softly but she was getting a little irritated. There was no need to get Trip involved in this. He didn't need to know details.
His eyes roamed over to the group as he hesitated. "I don't like this..." he continued to hold his glare but moved into an office behind the bar to grab a few keys.
She quickly took the keys from his hands and pushed up on her tiptoes to be able to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, we'll be gone soon, I promise."
She made her way back to Miles and set a couple pairs of keys in his hands. "We can stay here without anyone questioning us. It's small, but the people in here are loyal and won't ask too many questions. We can get started when you guys are settle in."
Miles turned around and spoke to her. It convicted her at her own rashness, but in her defense he did chase her throughout town. Not really the best way to win a girls confidences. She knew not to let emotion get in the way of negotiations, she had one too many bad nights to count for because she let emotion get the best of her. She looked from Roger to Miles and then to the small group around them. "Alright, I can put differences aside for the time being, but also understand this: I got enough friends in this place that if you doublescross me, they can make things miserable for you." She needed to make sure he was clear on that fact. She may only be one girl, but there were powers higher than her to worry about here.
She was about to respond with more when she too was distracted by the sound of footsteps. Looking in that direction she took in the sight of the marshal before them. Oh no, she knew this guy. He always appeared as a non-violent threat to her, not yet at least. She never did get a long with the law, and this guy was always a stickler for it. She listened to his talk and made sure to keep a straight face when he mentioned her. He began to walk away and she listened while Miles responded.
"Yeah and I don't know what pocket watch you're talking about!" She called after him. Of course she probably did. She did give Trip a pocket watch for his last birthday, but who remembers where she got it from.
She turned back to Miles and beckoned him to follow her. Things were quiet and most vendors were shut down. You could hear the far off clamber of the whore houses and underground casinos, but for the most part only the murmurs for the saloons behind the closed door could be heard. She led them back to the inn they had found her at and motioned for them to wait behind. She sauntered over to the bar and casually leaned against it. Trip was manning the bar and had his back to her, but once he saw her reflection he quickly spun around and reached out to hold her face in his hands.
"Star! You're alright. I was so worried, what happened?!" He searches her face for injury and she slowly removed his hands from her face.
"I'm alright, just a misunderstanding." By this time Trips gaze had found the group behind her and his eyes narrows in suspicion and confusion. Star kept his hands in hers and she tried to steer his eyes back on her. "Trip, I'm gonna need a favor."
"What have you gotten yourself into this time? Why are they here?" He pointed an accusing finger in their direction.
"Trip, I'm going to need a few rooms." She tried to speak softly but she was getting a little irritated. There was no need to get Trip involved in this. He didn't need to know details.
His eyes roamed over to the group as he hesitated. "I don't like this..." he continued to hold his glare but moved into an office behind the bar to grab a few keys.
She quickly took the keys from his hands and pushed up on her tiptoes to be able to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, we'll be gone soon, I promise."
She made her way back to Miles and set a couple pairs of keys in his hands. "We can stay here without anyone questioning us. It's small, but the people in here are loyal and won't ask too many questions. We can get started when you guys are settle in."
Out of the wastes of the world outside the gates into Roram, a figure on the searing hot face of the landscape emerged. A lone figure appeared. Bulky in appearance, the heat waves rising from the ground reflected the image as it tread towards the small makeshift town like an approaching plague. Its faceless façade was cloaked by a veil of thick cloth, black goggles and a combat helmet. He looked like a walking tank with the armament that tirelessly toted with him; assault rifles clanking against each other, the duffel bag strapped to his armored backside as was his shotgun. However, as he encroached further and further inland--it became clear that weapons were not the only thing he was carrying.
The town of Roram came to life; a whirlwind of voices--whispered concerns, threats to which he acknowledged none, and those that were curious to see this vagabond. To know if he was the one. The Albino Man, supposedly a hybrid that massacred two towns already. What were they to do? He probably had more guns strapped to him, than the whole town itself. And what was that in his right hand? The two guards outside saw what it was first and were taken back and awe struck. They were afraid, they were terrified and he hadn't even had to do anything--yet. Yes, he held the head of one of the town's very own 'elite'. It was clasped tightly in a gloved hand by the scalp. The face was, desiccated from the extreme temperature of the midday sun. The flesh had a leathery texture to its appearance and as one might have the clear notion--was putrefied. The rotten flesh just barely able to cling to the bleached bone beneath. His face had been chewed on but not completely gone. There were some features.
One grabbed his Colt revolver, the hammer cocking back with the assistance of the man's thumb. To the audible 'clicking' action, Cain simply turned his blanketed face towards the man giving him a subtle reminder. You see, his left hand still had the tomahawk out and the skin textured leather gloves he wore--let out a soft squeal of their own as his fingers tightened around the lever-action handle as if to say ' you pull yours, I'll pull mine' without the utterance of a single word between them. The large, round black eyes of Cain's goggles stared emotionless into the face of a panic stricken man who then tried to lift, aim, and fire at Cain.
However, Cain's eyes watched carefully now. In the brevity of the moment the man took to gain his sights, Cain firmly and swiftly came in arc starting from below and traveling upwards at angle until the hatchet burrowed into, and past the man's temple with a sickening 'crack' as bone splintered. The more sickening thing was, was the man was still alive. Lobotomized, but still breathing. There came a harsh, quick yelp from the second sentry as he fumbled for his gun. His hands were shaking, he had backed up quickly to try and put distance between him and Cain.
Cain reeled, pivoting in a 360 degree manner, tearing away the hatchet and sending the body of the man's partner towards him. They both collapsed, backs to stomach. The man's hand still had a hold of his side arm but as soon as he drew it, his wrist bent inwards. There was a second sickening 'pop'. In the micro second that his wrist bent to withdraw, Cain had stomped on the bent compilation of cartilage and bone. The force of which, was an even more grisly sight as the resonating tremors that vibrated through his bone structure from the tour de force blow had, in effect, blown out the bone causing it to crumple and the flesh be perforated in many angles and ways. This man screamed, yet it was on deaf ears when it came to Cain. The city, however, heard this man's wail like a banshee cry.
"But if there is harm, then you shall pay life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe." Cain uttered, it was from the book of Exodus. Taking his tomahawk, he turned back to the gates, walking away with the man's mangled arm causing considerable an irreconcilable pain. He brought his boot up, he kicked the doors ajar, and readily moved into town. A great many people fled in terror when they saw the rotten, half eaten head of a man they had formally known. Cain, carried it to the arms dealer that employed him to begin with. With a baffled look of why everyone was running and this lone man was simply...walking. It too made them very nervous, but it was only the beginning of their horror. Cain simply lifted his hand carrying the disembodied head of their field agents. One threw up immediately, the other backed away very quickly. Cain dropped the head on the counter, letting the ten pounds of flesh and bone bounce and roll towards them before carrying the gear that he had gotten onto Commando Capacity.
The town of Roram came to life; a whirlwind of voices--whispered concerns, threats to which he acknowledged none, and those that were curious to see this vagabond. To know if he was the one. The Albino Man, supposedly a hybrid that massacred two towns already. What were they to do? He probably had more guns strapped to him, than the whole town itself. And what was that in his right hand? The two guards outside saw what it was first and were taken back and awe struck. They were afraid, they were terrified and he hadn't even had to do anything--yet. Yes, he held the head of one of the town's very own 'elite'. It was clasped tightly in a gloved hand by the scalp. The face was, desiccated from the extreme temperature of the midday sun. The flesh had a leathery texture to its appearance and as one might have the clear notion--was putrefied. The rotten flesh just barely able to cling to the bleached bone beneath. His face had been chewed on but not completely gone. There were some features.
One grabbed his Colt revolver, the hammer cocking back with the assistance of the man's thumb. To the audible 'clicking' action, Cain simply turned his blanketed face towards the man giving him a subtle reminder. You see, his left hand still had the tomahawk out and the skin textured leather gloves he wore--let out a soft squeal of their own as his fingers tightened around the lever-action handle as if to say ' you pull yours, I'll pull mine' without the utterance of a single word between them. The large, round black eyes of Cain's goggles stared emotionless into the face of a panic stricken man who then tried to lift, aim, and fire at Cain.
However, Cain's eyes watched carefully now. In the brevity of the moment the man took to gain his sights, Cain firmly and swiftly came in arc starting from below and traveling upwards at angle until the hatchet burrowed into, and past the man's temple with a sickening 'crack' as bone splintered. The more sickening thing was, was the man was still alive. Lobotomized, but still breathing. There came a harsh, quick yelp from the second sentry as he fumbled for his gun. His hands were shaking, he had backed up quickly to try and put distance between him and Cain.
Cain reeled, pivoting in a 360 degree manner, tearing away the hatchet and sending the body of the man's partner towards him. They both collapsed, backs to stomach. The man's hand still had a hold of his side arm but as soon as he drew it, his wrist bent inwards. There was a second sickening 'pop'. In the micro second that his wrist bent to withdraw, Cain had stomped on the bent compilation of cartilage and bone. The force of which, was an even more grisly sight as the resonating tremors that vibrated through his bone structure from the tour de force blow had, in effect, blown out the bone causing it to crumple and the flesh be perforated in many angles and ways. This man screamed, yet it was on deaf ears when it came to Cain. The city, however, heard this man's wail like a banshee cry.
"But if there is harm, then you shall pay life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe." Cain uttered, it was from the book of Exodus. Taking his tomahawk, he turned back to the gates, walking away with the man's mangled arm causing considerable an irreconcilable pain. He brought his boot up, he kicked the doors ajar, and readily moved into town. A great many people fled in terror when they saw the rotten, half eaten head of a man they had formally known. Cain, carried it to the arms dealer that employed him to begin with. With a baffled look of why everyone was running and this lone man was simply...walking. It too made them very nervous, but it was only the beginning of their horror. Cain simply lifted his hand carrying the disembodied head of their field agents. One threw up immediately, the other backed away very quickly. Cain dropped the head on the counter, letting the ten pounds of flesh and bone bounce and roll towards them before carrying the gear that he had gotten onto Commando Capacity.
Star led Miles and company through alley after alley, street after street. Everything was dead silent, probably because it was just after midnight and the town had begun to settle down. Only when they reached the hotel did they hear the faintest sound of idle chatter and someone washing dishes. Star walked in first, then Miles and company followed behind her. She walked up to the bartender who seemed like, to Miles, to be her love interest. He could be described as innocent, perhaps even naive. He was probably too naive for these wastelands,yet he also made it this far, indicating that he was likely being protected by Star. The bartender, apparently named Trip, showed worry for Star, checking her face for any cuts or bruises. After expressing his surprise and concern at Miles's presence, and a bit more chatter, Trip handed Star the key to one of the rooms. She handed Miles the keys, and they proceeded.
They walked through the creaking hallway until they reached their room. When they entered, it was just as they expected; a small room with old wallpaper and the smell of moldy wood. Despite its size, it was enough to contain all of them. The room had just enough beds to hold them all and wooden nightstands with lamps next to each of them. The room's wallpaper was yellowish color that was beginning to fade, suggesting it was from an era long passed. At the end of the room, there was a single, cracked window that had a good view of the town and the ruins beyond. Miles looked out towards the ruins and found that there was still light up there. He knew that Roarek was up to something, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was like a riddle that seemed impossible to solve, but Miles was determined to solve it. Damn it!, he thought, What the hell is he planning up there? Is he gonna ambush me? Lure me into his trap? Think, damn it!
Miles stared out the window, musing over his thoughts, when he saw something that caught his eye. He peered into the streets below to find a group of 4-5 people, each with rifles. Their guns were all drawn, and they were wearing armor made of scrap metal and leather. He kept examining them until his eyes grew wide with shock. Miles turned around hastily, dimming the lamps. "Everyone turn off the lights! We've got company."
"Huh? What is it?" Roger asked in confusion.
Miles took one last glimpse out the window; then headed for the door, peeking into the hallway. He looked back into the room, saying to the others, "Get your guns out, things are about to get ugly."
They walked through the creaking hallway until they reached their room. When they entered, it was just as they expected; a small room with old wallpaper and the smell of moldy wood. Despite its size, it was enough to contain all of them. The room had just enough beds to hold them all and wooden nightstands with lamps next to each of them. The room's wallpaper was yellowish color that was beginning to fade, suggesting it was from an era long passed. At the end of the room, there was a single, cracked window that had a good view of the town and the ruins beyond. Miles looked out towards the ruins and found that there was still light up there. He knew that Roarek was up to something, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was like a riddle that seemed impossible to solve, but Miles was determined to solve it. Damn it!, he thought, What the hell is he planning up there? Is he gonna ambush me? Lure me into his trap? Think, damn it!
Miles stared out the window, musing over his thoughts, when he saw something that caught his eye. He peered into the streets below to find a group of 4-5 people, each with rifles. Their guns were all drawn, and they were wearing armor made of scrap metal and leather. He kept examining them until his eyes grew wide with shock. Miles turned around hastily, dimming the lamps. "Everyone turn off the lights! We've got company."
"Huh? What is it?" Roger asked in confusion.
Miles took one last glimpse out the window; then headed for the door, peeking into the hallway. He looked back into the room, saying to the others, "Get your guns out, things are about to get ugly."
Star had followed the group of men up into the hallways and passed them on her way into her own room. The inn was relatively quiet and she could hear the wind rushing against the side of the building, the settlement creaking as it tried to bend to the wind. She was grateful for the protection for the winds bitter cold. Sure, the days may be scorching hot under the brutal sun, but the cold nights were just as unforgiving. She had heard plenty of stories of men and women who had gotten themselves lost in the vast wasteland without shelter from the night and were frozen to death before the snakes would wake up. Her room was across the way from Miles and his mens' room, so with the thin walls she was still able to hear some soft chatter and be away if anything was amiss.
She slowly closed her door and turned to face her room. She rested her weight against the door and rubbed her head with her hand. Her body ached and her eyes begged to be closed, she couldn't remember the last time she had gotten a comfortable night's sleep. It was almost impossible with her circumstances. If she thought about it too long she would feel a prickling in her eyes as they watered, so she never let herself think about it for a length of time. Stepping away from the door she walked over to the small sink and ran cool water in her hands. Splashing it over her face she let her eyes close for a good minute just to focus on breathing.
Hopefully, soon, she would be getting rid or Roarek, she was almost glad Miles had come into her life because he seemed to be the means to an end. He was somewhat of a tyrant for the whole of Roram, and she had gotten herself mixed up with him when she first showed up. Immediately attracted to his power, like a lost puppy dog she followed his promise of food and shelter and performed tasks without question. From theft, money laundering, and inside trading to roughing up people who owed him money, she did a lot of things that she hadn't thought of doing before. Finally, she was forced to take care of someone who owed Roarek money and was sent to the man's house. In the middle of the night she and some men Roarek had sent with her bust down the man's door to find him in bed with his wife with his children sleeping a couple doors down. It had never gotten this personal before, something about the children being in the house unnerved Star, she couldn't do anything. After that day she was slowly separating herself from Roarek and his crew until finally one day she ran. She left Roram for a while before deciding to return. She knew it would be risky, but she didn't think Roarek would hold that deep of a grudge, now she wanted to get rid of him once and for all.
She didn't realize she had drifted off into the past so far until she heard movement outside her door as well as several voices. She stuck her head out the door in time to hear Miles.
"Get your guns out, tings are about to get ugly."
Her fingers immediately found her revolver as she stepped out of the room. "What's going on?" She asked trying to peer into Miles' room.
She slowly closed her door and turned to face her room. She rested her weight against the door and rubbed her head with her hand. Her body ached and her eyes begged to be closed, she couldn't remember the last time she had gotten a comfortable night's sleep. It was almost impossible with her circumstances. If she thought about it too long she would feel a prickling in her eyes as they watered, so she never let herself think about it for a length of time. Stepping away from the door she walked over to the small sink and ran cool water in her hands. Splashing it over her face she let her eyes close for a good minute just to focus on breathing.
Hopefully, soon, she would be getting rid or Roarek, she was almost glad Miles had come into her life because he seemed to be the means to an end. He was somewhat of a tyrant for the whole of Roram, and she had gotten herself mixed up with him when she first showed up. Immediately attracted to his power, like a lost puppy dog she followed his promise of food and shelter and performed tasks without question. From theft, money laundering, and inside trading to roughing up people who owed him money, she did a lot of things that she hadn't thought of doing before. Finally, she was forced to take care of someone who owed Roarek money and was sent to the man's house. In the middle of the night she and some men Roarek had sent with her bust down the man's door to find him in bed with his wife with his children sleeping a couple doors down. It had never gotten this personal before, something about the children being in the house unnerved Star, she couldn't do anything. After that day she was slowly separating herself from Roarek and his crew until finally one day she ran. She left Roram for a while before deciding to return. She knew it would be risky, but she didn't think Roarek would hold that deep of a grudge, now she wanted to get rid of him once and for all.
She didn't realize she had drifted off into the past so far until she heard movement outside her door as well as several voices. She stuck her head out the door in time to hear Miles.
"Get your guns out, tings are about to get ugly."
Her fingers immediately found her revolver as she stepped out of the room. "What's going on?" She asked trying to peer into Miles' room.
Miles slowly opened the door into the hallway when he saw Star open her door. "What's going on?" she asked. Miles spoke to her in a soft tone, "Stay sharp, we got company." Miles, Roger, and the rest of his henchmen crept through the hallway, which had its lights shut off by now. They made sure to be as quiet as they could; so much so that they could hear their own heartbeats. They reached the end of the hallway and tiptoed down the stairs. When they reached the bar, Trip was still busy washing dishes. "Get down if you wanna stay in one piece," Miles said in one piece. Perhaps he worded it wrong, because Trip seemed scared out of his wits when Miles said that. Despite that, he knelt down behind the counter. Miles nodded to the rest of his henchmen when he reached the door. He reached for the handle when a bullet smashed through the window and flew by his ear.
"Everyone get down!" he yelled. Everyone jumped down when even more bullets began flying through the windows. Miles and company backed up against the wall, exchanging bullets with the bandits outside. One of the bandits was bold enough to try and engage Miles up close. Big mistake, he thought. The bandit smashed through the door, staring at Miles for a split second. In his window of opportunity, Miles jumped aimed and fired straight into the bandit's forehead. Miles picked up the bandit's body and ran outside, using the body as a meat shield. He ran across the street and discarded the body when he found a little corner to hide behind. Miles fired a couple of blind shots, most of them deflecting off of the bandits' metal armor.
Meanwhile, Roger was still in the hotel, firing at the bandits through the opening where the door used to be. He fired a few shots, one of them hitting a bandit in an unprotected shin. The bandit yelped in pain, but kept firing anyways. A bandit shot the henchman behind Roger in the chest, who promptly fell to the ground lying in a puddle of blood. Roger was beginning to get nervous. These guys were sharp, sharp enough to reduce Roger to Swiss cheese. Not only that, but the bullets were eating through the plaster wall. If Roger didn't act soon, he would be a dead man. Roger looked around, and noticed that there was a table of metal. Roger crawled towards the table, and pulled it towards the window. He kept low toward the table and fired from there.
"Everyone get down!" he yelled. Everyone jumped down when even more bullets began flying through the windows. Miles and company backed up against the wall, exchanging bullets with the bandits outside. One of the bandits was bold enough to try and engage Miles up close. Big mistake, he thought. The bandit smashed through the door, staring at Miles for a split second. In his window of opportunity, Miles jumped aimed and fired straight into the bandit's forehead. Miles picked up the bandit's body and ran outside, using the body as a meat shield. He ran across the street and discarded the body when he found a little corner to hide behind. Miles fired a couple of blind shots, most of them deflecting off of the bandits' metal armor.
Meanwhile, Roger was still in the hotel, firing at the bandits through the opening where the door used to be. He fired a few shots, one of them hitting a bandit in an unprotected shin. The bandit yelped in pain, but kept firing anyways. A bandit shot the henchman behind Roger in the chest, who promptly fell to the ground lying in a puddle of blood. Roger was beginning to get nervous. These guys were sharp, sharp enough to reduce Roger to Swiss cheese. Not only that, but the bullets were eating through the plaster wall. If Roger didn't act soon, he would be a dead man. Roger looked around, and noticed that there was a table of metal. Roger crawled towards the table, and pulled it towards the window. He kept low toward the table and fired from there.
Star followed behind the group and once she made it to the main floor was greeted by the first barrage of gunfire. Quickly ducking off to the side she watched as a bandit bust through the door and Miles promptly ended his life. Once Miles had made it outside she crawled her way over to a window looking out to the street. She tried to peek out but must have called attention to herself because soon the glass shattered after a bullet crashed it's way through. She covered her head as shard of glass fell down. Her arms were nicked up a bit, but with the window being gone she was able to try and guard herself with the window sill while firing out of it. She had a bandit in her sights and fired swiftly, the bullet lodging itself somewhere in his mid section. Cocking the hammer back once more she shifted her gaze over to a bandit making his way towards the inn. With a single shot the man was on his face in the ground while blood began to pool around his head. She was about to take another shot when a hand out of the darkness darted forward and caught her wrist.
Before she could blink she was being yanked out the window, shards of window glass piercing her skin as they dragged across her back. She hardly had time to scream before she was pulled out into the cold night air and was face with a bandit with a bandanna covering his face. She noticed a gun in her face but her fight or flight instinct kicked in and her knee came up to slam into the man's stomach. It caused the man to double over a bit, and to let go of her wrist. She tried to turn and run away but the man was wiser and ended up grabbing her hair and pulling her onto the ground. The cuts in her back smarted as she landed on them with a thud. One of the man's hands was buried in her hair, yanking, causing her eyes to water, and his other hand had found it's way around her throat. She could feel her lungs trying desperately to get more oxygen, but the hand on her throat wasn't allowing enough in. She tried to reach for her gun, but in the scuffle it had gotten knocked down the porch a bit.
The man's eyes were furious as he looked down at her. He seemed to be caught in a rage, and she was sure he was going to kill her.
She twisted in a way that her fingers could reach inside of her boot and she found the handle of one of her knives. In a swift movement she swung the knife around and slashed across the man's throat. A sick gurgling sound came out of his mouth and she had to close her eyes as blood began to spurt out of the wound, falling on her in the process. The man back up and clutched at his throat. Star began coughing but searched for her gun in the process. Her vision was buzzing after the lack of oxygen but she was able to catch a gleam in the moonlight and her fingers quickly found her gun. Getting up on one knee she aimed her gun at the man's head and took her shot. She didn't even look back at him as she hurried back inside the inn. Once she was in she found that Roger had made a sort of shield out of the table and ducked behind it next to him. She tried to maintain a steady breath, but instead they were coming out as rough coughs are wheezes.
Before she could blink she was being yanked out the window, shards of window glass piercing her skin as they dragged across her back. She hardly had time to scream before she was pulled out into the cold night air and was face with a bandit with a bandanna covering his face. She noticed a gun in her face but her fight or flight instinct kicked in and her knee came up to slam into the man's stomach. It caused the man to double over a bit, and to let go of her wrist. She tried to turn and run away but the man was wiser and ended up grabbing her hair and pulling her onto the ground. The cuts in her back smarted as she landed on them with a thud. One of the man's hands was buried in her hair, yanking, causing her eyes to water, and his other hand had found it's way around her throat. She could feel her lungs trying desperately to get more oxygen, but the hand on her throat wasn't allowing enough in. She tried to reach for her gun, but in the scuffle it had gotten knocked down the porch a bit.
The man's eyes were furious as he looked down at her. He seemed to be caught in a rage, and she was sure he was going to kill her.
She twisted in a way that her fingers could reach inside of her boot and she found the handle of one of her knives. In a swift movement she swung the knife around and slashed across the man's throat. A sick gurgling sound came out of his mouth and she had to close her eyes as blood began to spurt out of the wound, falling on her in the process. The man back up and clutched at his throat. Star began coughing but searched for her gun in the process. Her vision was buzzing after the lack of oxygen but she was able to catch a gleam in the moonlight and her fingers quickly found her gun. Getting up on one knee she aimed her gun at the man's head and took her shot. She didn't even look back at him as she hurried back inside the inn. Once she was in she found that Roger had made a sort of shield out of the table and ducked behind it next to him. She tried to maintain a steady breath, but instead they were coming out as rough coughs are wheezes.
Marshal was in the midst of lighting yet another cigar, his other had long since burned away to ashes, when he heard peppered fire and turned his head in calm composure. His black gloved hand flicked the lit match, blanking out the flame that had burned the soft leaves and filler between the wrapper and produced a soft amber glow. He was back on watch duty. Not only that, it seemed 'The Judge' was apparently going to have to lay the law down pat for some folks. He placed the cigar precariously between his lips, letting it simply hang from slightly puckered lips. Inhaling the intoxicating and aromatic flavors, he cause the cigar to burn brighter and illuminate his otherwise dark face. Upon exhaling, he vented the gathered smoke and blew it of the other corner of his mouth like a freight train blowing steam into the air.
"Well, fuck. Guess that means I'm back on duty." He said to himself, throwing the match stick away to the side before his hand slid to the ornate revolver on his right hip. It was black, highly polished and held a beautiful design on the metal; lavishly covered with American style scrollwork and acanthus designs. Near the end of the barrel, which protruded past the holster and followed the seam of his denim pants--was inscribed the two singular words: The Judge. He patted the holster in quiet temptation. He then headed towards the rough-and-tumble conflict that was occurring, slowly gripping the handle of his pistol. It was a deadly resolve that ran through him. Once drawn, his side arms could not be simply put down until the matter was resolved.
However, he always sought other ways than simply a means of violence to obtain his ends. Usually violence worked best, nevertheless, there was always hope right? Coming upon the siege, he watched carefully--Miles was across the way, firing blindly. Starlett had just shot a man point blank after slashing his throat open. This needed to stop, and now. He looked around further, nothing that the collective menagerie of bandits, outlaws and raiders were in close proximity. A single handgun wouldn't do the job quickly when it needed to be done so--naturally he improvised. He turned around, this time hastily, duck and weaving in between buildings. He kicked the front door in of the general goods storage with the elderly man standing near it looking out the window.
"Sorry old man, I'm borrowing a couple things." He said without stopping. He stepped into the back, and began digging and digging. Finally he came upon two blue colored bottles. Walking back out of the room he lifted the bottles up to the old man as he walked on by. "I'm taking these, put'em on my tab." He calmly strolled out, but he did so with haste still quickening his his steps. He entered through the back door of the house that the marauders were near. Bullets came flying past him, one buzzing through his chocolate brown hair, shaving an inch or so as he made his way to the front door and then suddenly--would veer to his left. He ambled up a set of stairs, marched around the bannister and then barged through the on the summit of the house. He had unscrewed the tops of the blue bottles before he came out in the open and as soon as he had--he poured one bottle on one side and the other bottle to the other side.
The men were drenched in would--at first appear like simply water. Drawing his pistol, he let the hand cannon speak for itself. A resounding 'crack' like there was suddenly a thunderstorm rolling in. If being splashed and wet hadn't gotten everyone's attention--his gun surely would have.
"I don't know what in the hell possessed you all to think you could come into MY town and start popping off rounds- In here, I am God, so it ain't happening no more. I'll give ya'll one chance--one chance only to lay your guns down and to get your asses out of Roram. Or so help me I will burn your world to the ground." He took his cigar from his lips with one hand, holding it between his fingers and held his revolver in the other. His voice was fully convicted, he meant what he had said--even if the marauders hadn't yet realized they had been soaked in an extremely combustible and flammable liquid called Kerosene.
"Well, fuck. Guess that means I'm back on duty." He said to himself, throwing the match stick away to the side before his hand slid to the ornate revolver on his right hip. It was black, highly polished and held a beautiful design on the metal; lavishly covered with American style scrollwork and acanthus designs. Near the end of the barrel, which protruded past the holster and followed the seam of his denim pants--was inscribed the two singular words: The Judge. He patted the holster in quiet temptation. He then headed towards the rough-and-tumble conflict that was occurring, slowly gripping the handle of his pistol. It was a deadly resolve that ran through him. Once drawn, his side arms could not be simply put down until the matter was resolved.
However, he always sought other ways than simply a means of violence to obtain his ends. Usually violence worked best, nevertheless, there was always hope right? Coming upon the siege, he watched carefully--Miles was across the way, firing blindly. Starlett had just shot a man point blank after slashing his throat open. This needed to stop, and now. He looked around further, nothing that the collective menagerie of bandits, outlaws and raiders were in close proximity. A single handgun wouldn't do the job quickly when it needed to be done so--naturally he improvised. He turned around, this time hastily, duck and weaving in between buildings. He kicked the front door in of the general goods storage with the elderly man standing near it looking out the window.
"Sorry old man, I'm borrowing a couple things." He said without stopping. He stepped into the back, and began digging and digging. Finally he came upon two blue colored bottles. Walking back out of the room he lifted the bottles up to the old man as he walked on by. "I'm taking these, put'em on my tab." He calmly strolled out, but he did so with haste still quickening his his steps. He entered through the back door of the house that the marauders were near. Bullets came flying past him, one buzzing through his chocolate brown hair, shaving an inch or so as he made his way to the front door and then suddenly--would veer to his left. He ambled up a set of stairs, marched around the bannister and then barged through the on the summit of the house. He had unscrewed the tops of the blue bottles before he came out in the open and as soon as he had--he poured one bottle on one side and the other bottle to the other side.
The men were drenched in would--at first appear like simply water. Drawing his pistol, he let the hand cannon speak for itself. A resounding 'crack' like there was suddenly a thunderstorm rolling in. If being splashed and wet hadn't gotten everyone's attention--his gun surely would have.
"I don't know what in the hell possessed you all to think you could come into MY town and start popping off rounds- In here, I am God, so it ain't happening no more. I'll give ya'll one chance--one chance only to lay your guns down and to get your asses out of Roram. Or so help me I will burn your world to the ground." He took his cigar from his lips with one hand, holding it between his fingers and held his revolver in the other. His voice was fully convicted, he meant what he had said--even if the marauders hadn't yet realized they had been soaked in an extremely combustible and flammable liquid called Kerosene.
The bandits fired relentlessly; their shots reverberating in Miles's ears. Miles ducked behind the corner as the bullets flew by and hastily pulled out some ammo. He opened up his revolver and quickly put the bullets in one by one. Miles knelt down to the ground; his eyes closed as each bullet ate away at the brick and cement. He finally turned around the corner and fired. One of the bullets hit a bandit in the knee, sending him toppling over onto the cold, hard concrete. Another bullet hit a bandit in the armor, causing it to ricochet into an upstairs window of the hotel. Miles finally aimed more discreetly; hitting a bandit right between the eyes. The bandit slammed into the ground with blood gushing from his wound.
Miles finally ducked behind the corner again to reload his revolver. He dug around in his pocket only to find that he had run out ammo. Shit! Now what am I supposed to do?. He was at his wits end. He could just run up to the bandits and slit their throats with his pocket knife, but that would be too risky. He could run back across the street, but that could also put some holes in him. Miles truly was out of options. He looked out onto the battlefield. The bandits had two dead and one incapacitated. Roger was alright, but one of his men was shot dead. Miles was tempted cross the street, but he feared that a bullet would hit him. He finally decided to go against his better judgment and run across. For the most part, he was alright, except for a bullet that grazed his arm. He jumped into the doorway, making it into the hotel in relative safety. He searched his henchman and pulled out some extra rounds. He loaded them into his revolver and joined Roger in the gunfight.
Suddenly, everything became quiet. As they were all shooting, Miles could hear the sound of liquid being poured, then a gun firing into the air. Miles looked up; only to find that the marshal they encountered earlier had joined the fray. His face was stern and his posture had authority. He stood there like a judge in a courtroom, examining all that was before him. "I don't know what in the hell possessed you all to think you could come into MY town and stars popping off rounds- in here, I am God..." He laid down the law with authority and conviction. The bandits all put down their weapons and raised their hands up; each of them with a look of fear in their eyes.
Miles looked down to see that the bandits were all drenched in a strange liquid. He came to the conclusion that it was the marshal's doing, and that the liquid was likely to be flammable. Miles stood up while casually placing his revolver back in its holder. He pulled out his lighter and lit a smoke. He walked out of the store and slowly clapped in a condescending manner. "Well done boys, you sure made it far, trying to kill me and all." He looked at the bandits with a presumptuous smile as he let his cigarette light up; showing his smug look. "Now then," he said as he slowly walked up to them, "why don't you tell me all about your boss's plan to send me to the grave?" He felt confident asking this, knowing that the bandits were in total submission now. "I don't know if you realize this, but that liquid you all are soaked in is highly flammable. I'm sure you all would hate it if I 'accidentally' dropped my cigarette."
Miles finally ducked behind the corner again to reload his revolver. He dug around in his pocket only to find that he had run out ammo. Shit! Now what am I supposed to do?. He was at his wits end. He could just run up to the bandits and slit their throats with his pocket knife, but that would be too risky. He could run back across the street, but that could also put some holes in him. Miles truly was out of options. He looked out onto the battlefield. The bandits had two dead and one incapacitated. Roger was alright, but one of his men was shot dead. Miles was tempted cross the street, but he feared that a bullet would hit him. He finally decided to go against his better judgment and run across. For the most part, he was alright, except for a bullet that grazed his arm. He jumped into the doorway, making it into the hotel in relative safety. He searched his henchman and pulled out some extra rounds. He loaded them into his revolver and joined Roger in the gunfight.
Suddenly, everything became quiet. As they were all shooting, Miles could hear the sound of liquid being poured, then a gun firing into the air. Miles looked up; only to find that the marshal they encountered earlier had joined the fray. His face was stern and his posture had authority. He stood there like a judge in a courtroom, examining all that was before him. "I don't know what in the hell possessed you all to think you could come into MY town and stars popping off rounds- in here, I am God..." He laid down the law with authority and conviction. The bandits all put down their weapons and raised their hands up; each of them with a look of fear in their eyes.
Miles looked down to see that the bandits were all drenched in a strange liquid. He came to the conclusion that it was the marshal's doing, and that the liquid was likely to be flammable. Miles stood up while casually placing his revolver back in its holder. He pulled out his lighter and lit a smoke. He walked out of the store and slowly clapped in a condescending manner. "Well done boys, you sure made it far, trying to kill me and all." He looked at the bandits with a presumptuous smile as he let his cigarette light up; showing his smug look. "Now then," he said as he slowly walked up to them, "why don't you tell me all about your boss's plan to send me to the grave?" He felt confident asking this, knowing that the bandits were in total submission now. "I don't know if you realize this, but that liquid you all are soaked in is highly flammable. I'm sure you all would hate it if I 'accidentally' dropped my cigarette."
"Take him..." That was all Miles needed to hear from the man. The marshal gave Miles a scolding the same way an upset father would scold a child. He gave him a warning, then went on his way. Miles nodded to the marshal as he went on his way, then turned his attention to the bandit that lay before him. He was trembling on the ground, probably a mix of the cold night and the intense fear he was experiencing. Miles looked at him with a cold, unforgiving stare, and his eyes were wide with hatred. Walking up to the bandit, Miles crabbed his collar, then punched him in the face. "Tell me what Roarek's plans are", Miles said in a bitter voice. The bandit only shook his head, saying, "I don't know, I don't know!"
"Tsk tsk tsk," Miles said, shaking his head scornfully, "what are we gonna do with you?" He let go of the bandit's collar, but kicked him square in the face before he could hit the ground. The bandit flew through the air momentarily before crashing back down to earth several feet from where he just was. Miles coolly walked towards him. The bandit tried crawling away, but Miles yanked him back by the collar. He threw the bandit to the ground then put his foot on his chest. "I'll ask again, what are Roarek's plans?," he said in an aggravated voice. Miles was getting impatient with this guy, something that definitely wouldn't help the bandit's survival. Again, he said, "I don't know!"
At this point, Miles was plain pissed off. He got down and put his hand on the bandit's throat, with his cigarette in the other hand. "Damn it, I've about had it up to here with you! You better tell what the hell your boss's plans are before I shove this cigarette in your eye and let the kerosene do the rest!" The bandit's heart was pounding, now. He looked into Miles's eyes and could see that he wasn't screwing around. The bandit finally got to talking, his voice much weaker than before. "Alright... alright... I'll tell you. Besides us, he was going to send someone else to kill you. He was also going to send his posse on you, if you go back to his camp. There, I told you everything I know!"
"Who else was he going to send after me?," Miles said in a harsh tone.
"I don't know, he never said! Please let me go, I don't know anything els-"
Miles shot the bandit, point blank in the forehead. "Fucking useless," he muttered to himself. He stood up and rejoined the others. As he made his back to the broken doorway, Roger came to join him. "So, boss, what did our guy say?"
Miles shrugged nonchalantly. "He didn't say much. Just that Roarek was sending someone else after us and that he would ambush us if we go after him."
"Did he say who else Roarek sent after us?"
"Not really. He said he didn't know."
Everyone was silent for a moment. In the silence, a cold wind gently howled in the night, giving it a sort of ominous presence. It was as if the very air itself was conveying a message. Perhaps of a prophesy or a long, lost tale. Maybe it was a foreboding of things to come-- a calm before the storm. The wind began to howl louder and louder, and no one uttered a word. And then, in an instant, it died down. It gave an ominous chill in the air, and it made Miles's skin crawl.
Miles finally interrupted the long silence. "It's pretty cold out here. Let's head back in and get some rest. I'm tired."
He stepped through the open doorway to see, to no surprise, that everyone was highly distressed. Most of the people had just now come out of hiding from under the tables, and Trip was peeking over the counter. "Rest easy, everyone, the fight's over," Miles said. Everyone slowly came out of hiding before awkwardly heading to their rooms. Miles dropped his cigarette on the floor, crushed it, then called for his men to come to their room. It had been a long day, and everyone was ready to finally settle down.
"Tsk tsk tsk," Miles said, shaking his head scornfully, "what are we gonna do with you?" He let go of the bandit's collar, but kicked him square in the face before he could hit the ground. The bandit flew through the air momentarily before crashing back down to earth several feet from where he just was. Miles coolly walked towards him. The bandit tried crawling away, but Miles yanked him back by the collar. He threw the bandit to the ground then put his foot on his chest. "I'll ask again, what are Roarek's plans?," he said in an aggravated voice. Miles was getting impatient with this guy, something that definitely wouldn't help the bandit's survival. Again, he said, "I don't know!"
At this point, Miles was plain pissed off. He got down and put his hand on the bandit's throat, with his cigarette in the other hand. "Damn it, I've about had it up to here with you! You better tell what the hell your boss's plans are before I shove this cigarette in your eye and let the kerosene do the rest!" The bandit's heart was pounding, now. He looked into Miles's eyes and could see that he wasn't screwing around. The bandit finally got to talking, his voice much weaker than before. "Alright... alright... I'll tell you. Besides us, he was going to send someone else to kill you. He was also going to send his posse on you, if you go back to his camp. There, I told you everything I know!"
"Who else was he going to send after me?," Miles said in a harsh tone.
"I don't know, he never said! Please let me go, I don't know anything els-"
Miles shot the bandit, point blank in the forehead. "Fucking useless," he muttered to himself. He stood up and rejoined the others. As he made his back to the broken doorway, Roger came to join him. "So, boss, what did our guy say?"
Miles shrugged nonchalantly. "He didn't say much. Just that Roarek was sending someone else after us and that he would ambush us if we go after him."
"Did he say who else Roarek sent after us?"
"Not really. He said he didn't know."
Everyone was silent for a moment. In the silence, a cold wind gently howled in the night, giving it a sort of ominous presence. It was as if the very air itself was conveying a message. Perhaps of a prophesy or a long, lost tale. Maybe it was a foreboding of things to come-- a calm before the storm. The wind began to howl louder and louder, and no one uttered a word. And then, in an instant, it died down. It gave an ominous chill in the air, and it made Miles's skin crawl.
Miles finally interrupted the long silence. "It's pretty cold out here. Let's head back in and get some rest. I'm tired."
He stepped through the open doorway to see, to no surprise, that everyone was highly distressed. Most of the people had just now come out of hiding from under the tables, and Trip was peeking over the counter. "Rest easy, everyone, the fight's over," Miles said. Everyone slowly came out of hiding before awkwardly heading to their rooms. Miles dropped his cigarette on the floor, crushed it, then called for his men to come to their room. It had been a long day, and everyone was ready to finally settle down.
Star stood idly by while Miles took a hold of his prisoner. She could tell by the glint in Miles eye that this other guy didn't have much of a chance unless he knew Roarek's plans intimately. But, after being shot at, who would feel like being gracious? She didn't recognize the guy, must have been fairly new to Roarek's gang. Poor guy, bet he didn't see himself getting into so much trouble so quickly. Miles had kicked the guy back and once again grabbed him, but now threw him back on the ground with a foot firmly planted on his chest. She watched as Miles clamped a hand on the guys throat and continued to threaten him. She looked behind her to survey the damage, it would take a while to repair the front of the inn, but at least it was still standing. She could hear soft sobs coming from inside the saloon area and wondered if anyone else had been injured.
Her head shot back as she heard the gunshot. Miles briefly held his gun before the man's head as the smoke rose from his head. When Miles stood up he was clearly agitated and he made his way back towards the inn. She remained silent as she listened to the exchange between Roger and Miles. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, Miles mentioned something about sending more and ambushing. She had heard rumors about the men Roarek associated himself with, she had even met a few and she didn't feel like interacting with them again.
She followed miles in as people were peeking their ways back up. So far, it didn't seem like anyone was injured. She noticed Trip peeking up from behind the counter and knew he would want an explanation. But she had something she needed to address.
She made her way to Miles side and looked up at the man. She hated to admit that she was afraid, so she tried to sound as calm as possible. "Hey, listen. I know you're fired up and ready to kick someone's ass, but I've met some of the men Roarek sends out for special appointments, and they're not men to just mess with. He knows some sick people who wont stop at blood, they go for the mind, they want to hurt you in any way possible." She paused and took a deep breath. She had spent her life guarding herself from any injury, but after the things she had seen. She had decided that she would rather kill herself than be on the other end of these men. "And once they've got you they don't let you go until they're done playing with you." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the floor. "I'm not trying to tell you to stop, I'm just trying to tell you that, he's a sick, cowardly bastard who uses even sicker fucks to take care of you. This is something we have to approach carefully." She nodded at him and turned away.
Trip was standing near the bar looking over the damage. Making her way over to him she noticed that he had a pale color to his skin and his eyes were wide. She came up beside him and began helping him pick up some chairs. "I'm sorry this happened here." She spoke softly so not to frighten him. "We'll be out of your hair soon enough."
"No, it's okay. We've had gunfights here before." He didn't look at her while he spoke. "Star, you killed a man."
She couldn't look at him and he refused to look at her. She didn't know how to explain herself in a way he would understand. So instead she stopped helping and stood back. He had been through enough, she would have to talk to him in the morning. She made her way up the stairs towards her room as Miles and his men were heading to theirs. She slowly closed her door and listened to it click, latching in place. She wanted Roarek gone so badly, but she didn't know who they would be facing later. She would have to rely on Miles and his men, and her own gun. There was no way she would lose in this situation. She eventually shuffled her way over to the bed and fell down on it face forward. She didn't necessarily remember falling asleep, more like she was aware of an ever present darkness that eventually took over her entire vision.
Her head shot back as she heard the gunshot. Miles briefly held his gun before the man's head as the smoke rose from his head. When Miles stood up he was clearly agitated and he made his way back towards the inn. She remained silent as she listened to the exchange between Roger and Miles. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, Miles mentioned something about sending more and ambushing. She had heard rumors about the men Roarek associated himself with, she had even met a few and she didn't feel like interacting with them again.
She followed miles in as people were peeking their ways back up. So far, it didn't seem like anyone was injured. She noticed Trip peeking up from behind the counter and knew he would want an explanation. But she had something she needed to address.
She made her way to Miles side and looked up at the man. She hated to admit that she was afraid, so she tried to sound as calm as possible. "Hey, listen. I know you're fired up and ready to kick someone's ass, but I've met some of the men Roarek sends out for special appointments, and they're not men to just mess with. He knows some sick people who wont stop at blood, they go for the mind, they want to hurt you in any way possible." She paused and took a deep breath. She had spent her life guarding herself from any injury, but after the things she had seen. She had decided that she would rather kill herself than be on the other end of these men. "And once they've got you they don't let you go until they're done playing with you." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the floor. "I'm not trying to tell you to stop, I'm just trying to tell you that, he's a sick, cowardly bastard who uses even sicker fucks to take care of you. This is something we have to approach carefully." She nodded at him and turned away.
Trip was standing near the bar looking over the damage. Making her way over to him she noticed that he had a pale color to his skin and his eyes were wide. She came up beside him and began helping him pick up some chairs. "I'm sorry this happened here." She spoke softly so not to frighten him. "We'll be out of your hair soon enough."
"No, it's okay. We've had gunfights here before." He didn't look at her while he spoke. "Star, you killed a man."
She couldn't look at him and he refused to look at her. She didn't know how to explain herself in a way he would understand. So instead she stopped helping and stood back. He had been through enough, she would have to talk to him in the morning. She made her way up the stairs towards her room as Miles and his men were heading to theirs. She slowly closed her door and listened to it click, latching in place. She wanted Roarek gone so badly, but she didn't know who they would be facing later. She would have to rely on Miles and his men, and her own gun. There was no way she would lose in this situation. She eventually shuffled her way over to the bed and fell down on it face forward. She didn't necessarily remember falling asleep, more like she was aware of an ever present darkness that eventually took over her entire vision.
- Seen 31 Times • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2