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Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

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Take the role of an immortal, superhuman Gunslinger in this Space-Western themed ride through the post-apocalyptic deserts of Aldoria. Duel eachother for your foe's Legendary Gun and powers, or team up to defend the innocent from the forces of Evil.

1,022 readers have visited Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria since Screwface Romeo created it.

Introduction

Welcome to the Great Desert of Aldoria, a vast wasteland of scorching sands, dust storms and radiation. In the wake of an apocalyptic war that devastated the continent untold centuries ago, those humans who walk the wastes have been changed, altered. They have forgotten their history, their laws, their old gods, and forged new ones in hot brass and cold steel. New nations have risen and fallen in the endless desert, heros have been made, and villains born. Through it all, there has been one constant: the Gunslingers, immortal men and women who live by the law of the pistol, and possess powers beyond those of mere mortals. They count among their number glorious heroes, and heinous villains, champions of justice, and power-hungry warlords. They fight for all manner of causes, from wide-eyed idealism to cold, hard cash. They are demigods, incapable of dying, and very hard to kill. Each carries a signature weapon, a unique, Legendary Gun that is the source of their power, and one of the few things capable of killing them. Born in battle, or forged by Master Gunsmiths who are more wizard than engineer, these Legendary Guns are the most coveted possessions in all of Aldoria, and Gunslingers throughout the ages have dueled to the death for the right to take their victim's weapon and powers. You are these Gunslingers, whether grizzled veterans, centuries old, or naive and newly born, you will be cast into battle against the greatest force of Evil ever assembled. You are the last, best, and only hope of Aldoria. Lock and load.

The Gunslingers

Gunslingers are biologically immortal (meaning they will not die of disease or natural causes, but can be killed) super-humans who inhabit the Great Desert. They are created by, and draw power from, their signature weapons. A Gunslinger separated from their gun will gradually become mortal again, losing their powers and abilities, and becoming vulnerable to sickness and old age. A Gunslinger can be born in one of two ways; Battle-Born, or Chosen. A Battle-Born Gunslinger is created at the same time as their signature gun, through an event of great significance, be it heroism or evil. They are generally more powerful, and share the strongest bonds with their weapons, but are also more chaotic and prone to evil, or anti-heroism. Chosen Gunslingers are selected by their weapons, usually by acquiring them at great peril or personal sacrifice, through defeating a Gunslinger and claiming their weapon, seeking out a lost gun, or making a pilgrimage to one of the smithies where Legendary weapons are born. There are also those rare exceptions, individuals who buy or steal their gun, and are chosen by it regardless, though they are universally Evil, or at least corrupted, and almost always weaker. This is particularly common with the most Evil Battle-Born guns, which are so powerful that they have wills of their own, and can enforce them on the weak-minded, bending the greedy and corrupt into tools for their own wishes, which typically involve killing a lot of people.

All Gunslingers are affected by their guns, however, not just those who acquire them dishonestly. Even the weakest guns have spirits, and a Gunslinger is effectively an avatar of those spirits, in exchange for drawing on their power. A gun which was Forged by a Master Gunsmith who was generous and pure of heart will instill those qualities in its owner, while a gun Born in the wake of a murder, genocide or other act of Evil will corrupt its owner, and draw them toward similar deeds. It is for this reason that Evil Gunslingers are frequently so extraordinarily powerful; they are not afraid to collect and carry multiple weapons from defeated rivals, since they do not fear the consequences of wielding an Evil weapon, and are too thoroughly corrupted to be affected by a Good one. The most powerful Good Gunslingers are capable of this as well; they are so pure and strong of will that they can use an Evil weapon and resist its influence, but most choose not to on general principle.

In addition to their morality-warping properties, Legendary Guns grant a number of other abilities to their Gunslinger. The basic attributes possessed by all Gunslingers are biological immortality, tissue regeneration, superhuman strength, speed and reflexes, hyper-attuned sight, smell and hearing, and the ability to read the Auras of others. They also require little food or drink, are immune to disease, heat and cold, and possess some degree of mental resistance and willpower above and beyond the average human. In order to kill them, a person must either shoot them in the head, behead them, cause more damage than they can heal (i.e. use explosive weapons or sustained heavy machine-gun fire), or shoot them with a Legendary Gun. The more powerful a Gunslinger becomes, the more abilities they unlock. These are dependent on their signature weapon, or can be acquired by defeating another Gunslinger who possesses them. Common examples include telekinesis, "X-ray" vision, breathing underwater or in a vacuum, and control over certain elements of nature. These abilities vary in power based on the Gunslinger's physical and mental limits. A weak telekinetic might be limited to retrieving a fallen weapon with their mind, or pulling a beer bottle across a counter, while a strong one could hurl enemies and vehicles hundreds of feet, crush an ordinary human's skull with a thought, or stop a train at full steam dead in its tracks. Particularly strong examples have access to powers such as limited flight, mind-reading, and telekinetic shields that repel blows and projectiles. These powers have limits; they do not affect Legendary Guns other than one's own, and can be trumped by a more powerful Gunslinger. For example, a mind-reader's power would be useless against someone with stronger willpower than them, and a telekinetic would be unable to throw someone with more advanced telekinetic power as effectively, or pull an opponent's signature weapon out of their hands.

For the most part, Gunslingers resemble normal humans, with a few key exceptions. They're generally taller, for one, and all possess silver-grey irises, which expend to fill their entire eyes the older and more powerful they get. Gunslingers also have silver vein-like markings that emanate from their gun hand and extend up their arm. The more powerful the Gunslinger, the thicker and longer these lines grow. Evil Gunslingers have black markings of this sort as well as silver, which grow in proportion to their corruption and internally darkness.

The Guns

Signature, or Legendary Guns are the source of a Gunslinger's power, and the most valuable objects in Aldoria. They can be created in one of two ways; Forged, or Battle-Born. Forged guns are created by a Master Gunsmith, one who has been apprenticed to another Master from a young age, and been exhaustively trained in all the arts of gunsmithy. A Legendary Gun is a Master Gunsmith's Opus Magnum, the final crowning achievement of their career, and is complete only when the Gunsmith sacrifices his or her own soul, forging it into the weapon at the cost of their life. The power of a Forged gun depends on its maker; a very old, wise and strong smith will create a uniquely powerful weapon. A young, ignorant and impatient one will create a mediocre gun. Forged guns are permeated with the essence of their creators, and are in effect an extension of the Gunsmith's consciousness. Many Gunsmiths believe that sacrificing themselves to create a Legendary gun actually grants them true immortality and enlightenment. Hence, a gun's morality is determined by the morality of its creator. Battle-Born guns, on the other hand, are very different. Created by deeds of great significance, they begin life as ordinary, mortal weapons. A Battle-Born gun is created alongside its first owner, and the two share a uniquely powerful bond. They can be used by others, but they are strongest in the hands of their original owners. Their spirits are a combination of the traits the owner was expressing at the time of their creation, and the energy of battle and violence. So, while they can be Good, if the owner was acting out of heroism or self-sacrifice at the moment of their birth, they are always chaotic to a degree, and prone to corruption, especially if their owner becomes corrupt. In exchange, they are usually more powerful.

Aldoria

An island continent on a planet that may or may not be Earth, spanned almost entirely by a Great Desert, Aldoria is home to many nations, peoples and factions. A brief list of the major players is detailed here.

-The Lawmen

Lawful Good

A quasi-national entity, the Lawmen are a group dedicated to enforcing Justice and combating Evil and Chaos in the Wastelands. Existing outside the bounds of other governments, they claim all of Aldoria as their jurisdiction, recognizing only the League and the Republic as separate entities free of their interference. Their Mandate is to "Enforce Justice across the Continent, Combat Evil, Punish the Guilty and Defend the Innocent", and they are bound by a complex, ancient code of law and honor which every Lawman must memorize. Lawmen are sworn to hunt down and punish criminals, which they do relentlessly and often ruthlessly. They are required to adhere very strictly to the Law, which supposedly covers the dispensing of Justice every possible situation. In the event that the Law does not apply, a Judge is required to pass judgement on the issue, and that judgement is then written into the Law. Lead by the High Court, a council of 10 of the oldest, wisest and most respected Grand Justices, they are a philosophical meritocracy. Wise interpretation of the Law, good judgement, and effective dealings with criminals all factor into one's advancement within the Lawmen. Renegade actions, rash judgement, impatience and stupidity will ensure one remains a Deputy for the rest of one's career.

Anyone can become a Lawman, provided they can pass the entrance exam, or are willing to complete boot camp. Once accepted, recruits are given the rank of Deputy, and assigned a post. Should they prove worthy of promotion, they are advanced along the chain from Deputy to Officer, Lieutenant, Captain, Commissar and finally Juror, Judge and Grand Justice. Gunslingers within the Lawmen are awarded the title of Sheriff or Marshall, depending on whether they are bound to defend a town or settlement, or mobile hunters tasked with tracking and arresting or executing fugitives, both of which hold equal power, and lie in-between Captain and Commissar. If promoted, they move up the chain as usual. There are also Rangers, elite bands of mortal humans who act as the Lawmen's SWAT teams, or assist Marshals in their duties if required.

Every member of the Lawmen is required to carry a gun and be prepared to fight, and Judges are by no means bound to the courtroom. In fact, they regularly take part in field operations, due to the frequent necessity for a sentence to be passed quickly and without the usual formalities. The Lawman uniform consists of denim pants, a blue button-up shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a wide-brimmed leather hat. Officers and above wear a brown leather duster and a peaked cap. For combat-heavy operations, they have ceramic body armor and automatic weapons available, but these are typically kept in reserve. All Lawmen carry a pistol of some kind, typically in .40 Super Auto or 9x21mm Police, though .45 Long revolvers are not unknown, and most Deputies also carry a carbine, submachinegun or shotgun. Armament depends largely on what's available at the time, and can very wildly from precinct to precinct. Rangers are typically better equipped, carrying assault rifles, machine pistols, and sometimes even caseless or mass accelerator weapons purchased from the League.

Judges effectively fill three roles: Detective, wherein they investigate the crime along with the Lawmen who worked the case initially, Judge, wherein they determine the accused's guilt and pass sentence, and if need be, Executioner. While a Judge has the authority to pass judgement on his or her own, they usually prefer to consult with their Jury, a council of Jurors who have been selected for their differing perspectives and knowledge of various topics. Jurors bring their knowledge and ideologies to the table during a Deliberation, and help the Judge reach a verdict. From there, there are four sentences which can be passed; Fines, which are typically dispensed for small, relatively harmless nuisance crimes against property and people, Hard Labor, for more serious crimes, or criminals who cannot afford to pay their fines, Branding, which is reserved for migrant criminals with a history of repeat offence who the Lawmen are unable to keep track of and consists of tattooing the perpetrator's crimes and number of offenses onto their forehead, and Execution, which is reserved for the most heinous crimes such as rape, murder, terrorism, or assaulting a Lawman. The Lawmen do not imprison people, as it is considered too expensive to maintain a large incarcerated population, and would be a huge strain on their already thinly stretched resources. Instead, they use Hard Labor as a replacement, permitting the convicts slightly more freedom, but forcing them to work menial, difficult and often dangerous jobs for clients who pay the Lawmen for their services.

The Lawmen acknowledge that their system is not perfect, and can be barbaric and unfair, however, under the circumstances they are left with no choice, and such practices are a necessary evil in order to enforce their Mandate. Overall, while not perfect, they are effectively the only game in town.

-The Holy Order of the Temple

Lawful Neutral

A theocratic organization based on the worship of the Parinthian Gods, and the Sun God Elowea in particular, the "Templars" are fanatical warrior-priests dedicated to spreading their religion across Aldoria. They frequently clash with other factions due to their evangelical fanaticism, but have found acceptance among some of the Independent Kingdoms with large Parinthi communities. They are based in the Sun Temple, a mountain fortress in the center of the continent that houses their Citadel and the Holy City of Parinth. The Templars worship Legendary Guns, believing them to be divinely inspired (Elowea is the god of fire and therefore firearms, as well as the sun), and consider Master Gunsmiths to be prophets who's hands are guided by God. Evil Guns, however, like mutants, are considered a perversion of God's will, and are sought out and destroyed by the Templars. Templar Gunslingers, referred to as "Holy Knights" and considered to be the earthly incarnations of angels, are effectively the high priests of the Order, and must dedicate their lives to living by the commandants of the Sol Codex, the Holy Book of Elowea.

The Templars regularly carry out crusades, much to the displeasure of their neighbors, aimed at routing out heresy, mutants and Evil Guns. However, they are tolerated, mainly because this generally involves killing a lot of bandits and mutants, who are considered the greater evil by most citizens of Aldoria.

-The Pan-Aldorian Commerce League

True Neutral

The Pan-Aldorian Commerce League, or simply "The League", is a mercantile organization of traders, bankers and financial workers who operate the railways that serve as the main method of transportation in Aldoria, and act as a neutral party between the continent's various factions. Governed by a parliament of the most wealthy and powerful merchants in Aldoria, the League is the richest and one of the most technologically advanced entities on the continent. Avowedly neutral, the League takes part in no conflicts, and never takes sides, preferring to do business with all parties concerned. They do not, however, allow factional conflicts to interfere with their territory and operations, and maintain a massive standing army for the purpose of protecting their holdings and ensuring the status of the League as a peaceful and orderly trading and diplomatic hub.

The League Armed Forces are well trained, well equipped, and very technologically advanced. They have the most vehicles of any faction, and their troops are heavily mechanized. Standard uniform for League troopers is a desert camouflage fatigue kit, with ceramic armor plating on the chest, back, shoulders and lower legs, and a helmet with built-in radio and other electronics. Their most common weapons are Pre-War designed StG-20/10 6.5x40mm caseless assault rifles and GcR-980 25mm grenade rifles. They possess few Gunslingers, but make up for it with above average human soldiers.

Unlike the Lawmen, who are sworn to maintain Justice, the League is only concerned with enforcing Order. As long as you're not harming anyone financially (including any crime which affects a person's ability to earn money, such as murder) or disturbing the peace, you're free to do as you wish, and the police will only attempt to stop you from committing crimes, rather than hunting you down and punishing you. The only punishments are fines, targeted at white-collar crime, and exile, which is more intended to keep troublemakers out of the League rather than punish them. Repeat offenders and other high-profile criminals are typically turned over to the Lawmen to deal with, thanks to a series of treaties and de facto understandings between them and the League.

The League maintains and regulates the currency, called "Unys", "League Dollars", "Universal Standard Credits" and "bucks" depending on who you're talking to. They also operate Customs, regulate transportation, and inter-factional business matters in general. Citizenship is easy to obtain, the only requirement being a certain level of income, or a willingness to work for the League.

-The Outlaws/Bandits/Raiders

Chaotic Evil

Outlaws are loosely organized, migratory bands of mercenaries, thieves, murderers and other assorted criminal scum. Heavily armed, well-equipped with vehicles, and with plenty of willing, if not very skilled, troops, Outlaws are the terror of the wastelands. Smaller factions will generally buy them off, paying tribute to avoid their wrath, though that doesn't always work. Others will hire them as mercenary forces, either directly under the command of their armies, or just by paying them to attack their enemies instead. Outlaw bands are almost always lead by a Gunslinger, who is typically the embodiment of Chaotic Evil or Neutral Evil. If not, they are destroyed, or absorbed by another band. Possessing the most Gunslingers of any faction, the Bandits would have the numbers and guns to conquer all of Aldoria if they worked together, but thankfully they like killing eachother too much to ever pose a serious threat to an organized and powerful faction. Individual bands occasionally impose a uniform, but this is by no means universal.

Outlaws are the arch-nemesis of the Lawmen, and the two factions are in a constant state of war.

-The Daedaric Empire

Lawful Evil

Ruled by the Daedaric Dynasty since anyone can remember, this mighty Empire controls most of Eastern Aldoria, where it enforces a harsh, oppressive military dictatorial rule on those unfortunate enough to live there. Short of the Outlaws, the Imperial Army is the largest armed force in Aldoria, and the Imperial Guard hosts some of the most powerful Evil Gunslingers in existence. However, this massive size comes at a price: they are not very technologically advanced, relying heavily on massed conscript infantry and armored vehicles to counter the better equipped and trained forces of other factions. The current Emperor, Lucas Daedarian XVI, has been causing a lot of trouble along the boarder with the UKR for years now, rattling his sabers and gearing up for war only to back down at the last moment. He claims that it is his Divine Right to rule all of Aldoria, maintaining that his family is descended from the sons of the Sun God himself. This irks the Templars, who consider it heresy, but his promise to enforce the Sol Codex across the continent has caused members of the Order to consider joining forces. The Empire is despised by the Lawmen, frowned on by the League, and hated and feared by the Republic, with which it shares a boarder.

The Imperial Army is composed primarily of conscripts, both baseline human and mutant, who are generally treated as cannon fodder, supported by armored cars and trains. Their uniform is a simple desert-tan fatigue outfit with red beret, collar flashings, and other trim, and their standard armament is the SIR-88 straight-pull bolt-action rifle in 8x54mmR, supported by the ILM-92 submachinegun in 7.64x23mm Imperial. They are occasionally issued trenchcoats for colder weather, in the same colorscheme. The Imperial Guard, on the other hand, is quite possibly the most disciplined and uniform group of Gunslingers around. In addition to their signature guns, they carry SpIR-103 machine rifles in 8x54mmR, and are armored with Pre-War designed ceramic combat armor on par with that of the League or Republic. Imperial Gunsmiths are numerous, and charged with mass-producing Legendary Guns. Unsurprisingly, this approach tends to produce decidedly Evil, but mediocre guns, but this is of little concern to the Empire, which has always preferred quantity to quality in any case.

-The Independent Kingdoms

Chaotic Neutral

A blanket term for the smaller factions, "Independent Kingdoms" refers to a vast collection of small governments who remain independent from the major factions. They vary wildly in technology, military prowess, and pretty much everything else, but for the most part are primarily concerned with maintaining their own sovereignty. The most frequent targets of mutant and bandit attacks, they are usually poor and squalid, but very proud of their freedom.

-The United Kryssaian Republic

Lawful Neutral

A medium-sized constitutional federation under the leadership of President David Kessler, the UKR is the most technologically advanced of the factions. Initially formed by survivors of the Great War, who escaped the devastation in underground enclaves, the Republic is the closest thing to a Pre-War society in the wasteland (though it would still be considered a developing country by modern Earth standards). Its citizens enjoy significant freedoms, and a relatively good standard of living, though poverty and classism is something of a problem. Closely affiliated with the League, the Republic is the second-wealthiest faction after the League itself, and the second-most populous after the Empire. Despite being relatively liberal in philosophy and governance, the Republic is somewhat isolationist and jingoistic, regarding the other factions as barbarians and varying degrees of stupid, backwards and ignorant. Its boarders are tightly closed, and immigration is difficult unless you're from the upper classes of the League. Illegal immigration is a major problem.

The UKR is a great center of science, mathematics and scholarship, unlike the more practically and commercially-minded League, and home to the largest libraries, universities and science facilities in the wastes. Most citizens are industrial workers, middle managers or business professionals, compared to the large concentrations of soldiers, laborers and merchants that make up the populations of other factions.

The Republican Army is the best armed, trained and equipped fighting force in the wastes. Professional, disciplined and very heavily armed, they are one of the few forces to possess air vehicles in any quantity, and rely heavily on air and artillery power in a fight. Infantry troopers carry caseless assault rifles and light machineguns, as well as airburst grenade launchers and other smart munitions. They wear replicated Pre-War armor, with heavy units even possessing servo-assisted suits that can make them a match for low-level Gunslingers. As good as Republican forces are, they are crippled by the fact that there are not many of them. The Republican Army is volunteer-only, and the UKR's population has been lulled into a false sense of security and confidence in their boarders following decades of peace, to the point that enlistment is at a record low.


-The Legion of the Lost

Neutral Evil

The Legion of the Lost is a loose collective of mutants, considered sub-human by the other factions and driven to scavenging and petty crime, they are united only by their common hatred of baseline humans. While this is arguably the rest of Aldoria's fault, and mutants as a whole certainly deserve pity and a better shake in life, those who align with the Legion are beyond redemption. Preaching a sort of mutant supremacism, they are constantly traveling from place to place, killing, stealing and otherwise causing trouble, and are considered worse than bandits, though better organized. They are particularly hated by the Templars, who consider mutants to be servants of the Devil and a perversion of Humanity, and ruthlessly exterminate any who cross their path. The Legion has been the target of several crusades by the Order over the centuries, yet has somehow managed to remain intact.

The Legion's armed forces, if you can call them that, rely heavily on stealth, traps and trickery to evade and confront larger and better armed forces. They are poorly armed, with very basic, manually-operated firearms, and sometimes not even that. Shotguns and single-shot sniping rifles seem to be the preferred armaments. Since mutations vary wildly, some can be quite dangerous opponents, while others are considerably weaker than the average human. They have no uniform, as such, but generally wear ragged black garments with the three-eyed skull of the Legion sewn onto their shoulders or chest.

Toggle Rules

  1. I am OP. Therefore, I am effectively God. Fear my Dorito-flavored wrath.
  2. I have final say on whether characters are accepted. Whether a character is God-modding, Mary-Sueing, etc. is based on my judgement.
  3. On that note, there will be no God-modding, Mary-Sueing, and assorted bad form RPing. This should be expected, but might as well make it abundantly clear.
  4. Quality material only, please. Do not one-line if you can help it (I realize that sometimes during dialogue it's unavoidable), use proper English spelling and grammar, you have spell-check, use it, etc. etc.
  5. This is a story, not a pissing contest. If you want prove how big your E-peen is, 4chan is that way. Good luck. If you can't co-operate with other players, feel the need to be the most badass renegade jerkass loner in the group (be it in-RP or OOC) this is probably not the RP for you. I'm looking for a friendly, collaborative environment here, not a chance to re-live highschool.
  6. PG-13, please. I'm fine with gore, horror and violence, but explicit sexual content is a no-no.
  7. Some things are flat-out off limits. No cat ears, tails or other such nonsense on your characters. The existence of non-humans and superhumans is not license to re-create your favorite hentai. On a sliding scale of fluffy to gritty, this is very, very gritty. Also, your signature weapon cannot be an AA-12, "bazooka", minigun or anything else that's been mangled and raped by Call of Doody. Try to be original, for the love of Raptor Jesus.
  8. Be open to criticism. If you can't take a critique, or a little technical nitpicking, you should probably leave.
  9. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Have an inquiry about the universe? Curious if a bit of backstory would work for your character? Don't know the first thing about guns or military tech in general? I'm here to help, and I want to create the best possible cast of characters.
  10. On that note, there is no such thing as an AK-47, and clips are not what you think they are. Unless you think they are disposable metal dohickies used to load a magazine, in which case have a cookie.
  11. Keep your Signature Guns somewhat within the bounds of realism. It doesn't need to be 100% practical, but it can't be impossible, and I'd avoid the flat-out ludicrous.
  12. Check out the other characters before you start. It'll save you from duplicating someone else, and probably give you some ideas for cool characters to interact with the group.
  13. Post a link to a previous RP. I'm looking for quality writers, and I want to get a sample of your work before I accept you. It can be on this site or another, as long as it's yours.


Character Template

Code: Select all
[b]Full Name:[/b]
[b]Alignment:[/b]
[b]Faction:[/b]



[b]Physical Description[/b]
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[b]Personality[/b]
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[b]History[/b]
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[b]Signature Weapon(s) & Equipment[/b]
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[u][b]Signature Gun:[/b] [i][/i][/u]
[img][/img]
[b]Creator:[/b]
[b]Attributes & Powers:[/b]
[b]Base Weapon:[/b]
[b]Caliber & Ammunition:[/b]
[b]Action:[/b]
[b]Magazine:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]


[b][u]Additional Equipment[/u][/b]


[b]Powers and Abilities[/b]
_________________________________________________________

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 5 authors

Setting

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Character Portrait: Jason Davis
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Memphis, 15:00 Hours, July 20th - 887

The sun beat down over the desert, the heat descending in great waves of suffocating force as a single motorcycle roared across the flats, trailing a great cloud of dust behind it. The bike sputtered and coughed, spitting out gouts of black smoke which drifted and commingled with the dust as it crested a rise and speed down towards the town below.

The bike slowed as it entered the town, purring and sputtering as it traversed the dirt roads, weaving in-between houses on its way toward the broad street that constituted the center of town. Coming to rest by a hitching post, the little engine coughed and died as the rider swung stiffly off, wiping the thickly caked dust from his sunglasses and shaking like a wet dog to dislodge the sand from his clothes. He unzipped the top of his jacket, and pulled down the bandana that covered his mouth and nose, spitting into the dirt as he worked the gloves off his hands and tucked them into his pocket. Reaching into his saddlebags, he pulled out a heavy chain and lashed the bike to the hitching post, then, shifting the battered rifle slung over his back, he pulled the water and gas cans off the bike and headed for the general store.

The store was almost deserted. There were one or two people milling about in the aisles, and three sitting at one of the tables in the corner, eating something that looked like chicken but probably wasn't. The store manager, looking extremely bored, was wiping down a lever action rifle behind the counter. The man from the desert walked up to the counter and set his cans down with a clank.

"Can I help you?" The manager said, setting the rifle down on a buckskin cloth and turning to face him.

"Jason Davis, Marshal. I need clean water and unleaded fuel. Also, three boxes of .280 Borchart and a trigger job on my carbine, if you do that sort of thing"

"Fuel and water I can do. .280 Borchart too. Lemme see the gun"

Jason unslung the rifle and handed it over the counter.

"Trigger's been getting creepy. Doesn't break cleanly, like it used to" he explained. The manager removed the magazine and cleared the rifle, then pulled back the bolt and inspected the bore.

"You'll need a new trigger. The tangs get worn down on these sometimes, it's a common problem on wasteland-made guns. That's gunna cost you. And it'll take time"

"Money is not a problem. Lawmen will cover it. I assume you have an outpost here? Give me a receipt and I'll stop by and tell them to pay you. Time is an issue, though. I'm in pursuit of a dangerous fugitive. How long will it take?"

"Don't bother, I'll give the Sheriff the bill myself. We get our share of Lawmen out here. As for your trigger... eh, shouldn't be more than a day. I've got a gunsmith who makes these carbines, he should be able to turn one out for ya, if he ain't drunk or asleep. The inn down the way boards Lawmen for free. You can get a room there, and I'll send my boy to get you when the gun's ready. You can pick up your other supplies then too"

"Alright. I guess it'll have to do... Thank you, sir"

Jason straightened up, and turned to leave.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Daichi Nagasaki
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((Oh wait, I just realized this RP is PG-13. Well, crap. I just dropped some F bombs.))

Memphis, 15:05, July 20th - 887

The strong aroma of whiskey slowly filled the small backroom as Daichi quickly glanced down at the two cards he held in his left hand.

"Raise, three hundred." Daichi stated, sliding a medium sized stack of Poker Chips forwards as the bearded man across from his nervously downed a shot of whiskey, only to pick up the large bottle to his right and fill the shot glass back up again.

"You're bluffin'. You've gotta be." The bearded man mumbled as beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and he took yet another shot of whiskey. "Alright.. i'll.. i'll call." The man said, sliding the stack of Poker Chips forwards.

Daichi smirked and quickly slapped his two queens down on the table, A Four-of-a-Kind. The man across from remained completely silent, his eyes wide and his fingers tightly gripping the two cars he held in his hand.

"You.. you cheating son of A bitch!" The man yelled, quickly throwing his cards on the ground, sliding his chair away from the table and standing up.

"Aw, come on now Tyler, pick up your cards and sit back down. I'll buy you some candy or something once we finish this, everyone likes candy, right?" Daichi responded, trying to not laugh at the mans amusing outburst.

"Shut up you sissy faced cunt!" The man yelled, slowly reaching for his holstered magnum, drawing it and then pointing it at Daichi.

Daichi's eyes quickly narrowed as he scanned the man from head to toe, remaining silent for a few moments before erupting with laughter. "Oh..Heh..HAHAHAHA! HAHA! Oh.. man.. HAHA! Heh.. Ehh.. Okay.. what.. are you going to shoot me or something? HAHA!"

"..Yeah! That's exactly what i'm going to do! Just because your one of those.. things doesn't mean I can't put a hole between your eyes! Now stand up and start heading outside! I don't want get blood all over these walls!" The man yelled, the laughing outburst making him extremely nervous.

"...Right.. okay. You never where too bright." Daichi mumbled, quickly sliding out of his chair and standing up.

The man quickly took a few steps backwards as Daichi stood up."D-D-Don't do anything stupid! Just walk out the back door and keep your hands away from that pistol!"

Daichi let out a quick sigh and began to take a few steps towards the back door, he then slowly turned around and took one last quick look at the man. "..This fucking guy.." Daichi thought, hastily drawing Trigger and firing one shot straight into the mans forehead and then immediately holstering it. It was over in less than a second. ((Just for reference it looks like this, just without the hammer pulling and with a much bigger gun. 0:10 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Bh4FBFZVXk ))

"God damn it Tyler! Look what you've done! There's brain matter all over the wall! Whose going to clean this mess up now!? If you didn't get drunk and decide to pull out your damn pea shooter this whole situation would of been avoided! Sure I might of cheated a little bit but you didn't have to go and draw your damn gun!" Daichi screamed, slowly drawing his gun, pulling the empty shell out of his revolver, loading a new one in and then looking down at the mangled mess that was now the mans face as his lifeless body slowly slid down the wall that he was standing in front of.


((That will work. Just to clarify this was in the back room of the Saloon in Memphis. Oh, and I hope you don't mind me kind of spawning an NPC in.))

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Memphis, 15:00 Hours July 20 - 887

The sound of the motorbike came to a smooth close outside the Sheriff's outpost, the woman who sat astride it quickly swinging off and securing the vehicle to the hitching post. Shoving her hands in her pockets, the Sheriff stepped up onto the balcony before the building and walked into the room, the door to her office closed, her name painted onto the glass. The few holding cells were blissfully empty, a testament to the current peace within Memphis.

Cena lifted the hat from her head, opening the door to her office and casually throwing the hat onto a nearby chair before taking her seat behind her desk, eyes scanning over the paperwork. She took advantage of the temporary peace in the building to set about going through some of the forms that littered her usually tidy desk. She let a small smile twist her features as the pen scratched across the page, so absorbed in getting the job done that she didn't hear the door to the building open. Moments later the door to her office crashed open, her deputy leaning against the door frame, breathing heavily.

Cena jumped, the pen ripping through the paper. Her head lifted slowly to glare at her deputy who quickly began to speak, "Sorry to interrupt you Sheriff, but there's been a gun shot behind the Saloon."

She was on her feet in an instant, picking up Prometheus who had been leaning against the wall behind her. "Alright, let's go."

As she passed her deputy she clapped him on the shoulder before jogging out of the building. Unshackling the bike she quickly mounted it, kicking the engine to life before speeding down the streets, hands tightening on the handlebars. Nobody messed with the law in her town and got away with it. As the Saloon came into sight the motorbike skidding to a halt before the building, its rider cutting the engine unceremoniously.

Pulling the gun over her shoulder she quickly checked the magazine before pumping the gun, raising the shotgun to her shoulder as she signaled her deputy to go around the side of the building as she stalked forth, noting the few people inside the saloon hiding under tables, the man behind the bar having a gun pointed at the door, seemingly on the verge of going back there himself to sort things out. His eyes flicked towards the Sheriff as she entered, motioning silently towards the door in which the gunshot had come from.

Cena's eyes narrowed as she walked forth, her jaw clenched as she braced herself, grip tightening on the gun before she kicked down the door, watching the wood splinter under the force of her foot. She had to admit, there were some serious upsides to being a Gunslinger.

The sight that greeted her made her stomach churn momentarily before she ran in, swinging around to face the killer who was calmly reloading his weapon. His victim lay slumped against the wall, the face pulverized. Blood covered the wall behind the corpse, the hand still clutching a gun.

Cena glared at the man before her, "Lower your weapon and put your hands in the air!"

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((I'm not sure if there's an actually posting order here, but if there is then i'm completely destroying it right now because i'm too impatient to wait for Screwface. Sorry.))

Daichi remained completely still as the door in front of him was promptly kicked down and guns where immediately pointed at him. "Well, at least they're fast." He thought, trying to figure out exactly what he should do since the orders the female just barked at him made absolutely no sense.

"Are you new to this or something? How exactly am I supposed to lower my weapon while putting my hands in the air? How is that even possible? Like, you don't how weird this situation is for me right now, I have no idea what i'm supposed to do. Did you mean to tell me to drop my weapon? Because if that's the case then i'm afraid I can't do that. However, I have no intention of firing any more bullets today and that man drew his weapon and was pointing it at me with deadly intent. That was completely legal. Also, whose going to repair that door now? Did you think about the poor guy whose has to repair that door? That was a beautiful door! You could of just slammed it open and then started barking orders at me! It wasn't even locked or anything." Daichi responded, inhaling an extremely large breath of air as he finally finished his monologue.

"Wait! One last thing! You're pretty attractive, Sheriff. Would you mind going out with me? I don't really know what there is to do in this town, but I suppose any place would work, right? Okay, there. Now i'm done. You can continue yelling." He asked, taking a good long look at the Sheriff's breasts, well at least in that general area, they where kind of covered by lots of clothes and a bullet proof vest after all.

Daichi continued to stand completely still, awaiting more orders, his gun still facing towards the ground, as he had just finished changing out a shell before the Sheriff burst through the door.

((An extremely short post filled with questions and not much else, sorry. I'm not really sure what I could possibly do to expand this with more detail since my character is currently kind of stuck.))

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"Have a nice..." The manager started, only to be interrupted by a gunshot. Jason pricked up instantly, and ran for the door, thumbing the strap on his holster and drawing the Paladin as he went. Skidding to a halt outside the store, he scanned the street. There, a saloon across from him, the source of the gunshot. And, according to his ESP, two medium-level auras that could only belong to Gunslingers.

He trotted across the street, and stopped alongside the door to the saloon. There was a Deputy there, holding a levergun grimly.

"Sheriff's in there. Some asshole got shot, from the sound of it... Sir" The deputy drawled, nodding his head through the door at the back room.

"Thank you. I'm going to assist" Jason said, and strode through the main hall, propping himself alongside the door to the back room. Steeling himself, he snapped off the Paladin's safety, and stepped around the splintered remains of the door.

There were two people in the room, three if you counted the corpse that was currently repainting the floor a nice shade of red. One, a woman who was obviously the Sheriff, was leveling a shotgun at the other. Judging by it's aura, this was clearly her signature. The other... man? was talking very fast and still holding his gun, a very large revolver. Jason narrowed his eyes, and raised the Paladin.

"Marshal Davis, Lawmen. Allow me to clarify; set the cannon on the floor, kick it over to me, and put your hands behind your head. In that order, nice and slow" he barked, placing his finger inside the trigger guard. "Now, joker, or I'll vent your head" Jason pulled the trigger gently, letting the hammer click into half-cock.

Above Memphis, 15:07 Hours July 20 - 887

Dust particles floated softly through the cabin, glowing briefly as they drifted through the shafts of light emerging from the gaps between the slats of the vent. The soldier swallowed, shifting his gunbelt and wiping his brow as he stepped through the door. Across the small metal room, directly beneath the vent, was the Black Rider. He sat cross legged, long hands dangling between his knees, hat pulled low over his face. He was perfectly still, not even his clothes moving. A fly landed on one of his fingers, crawling along the glove, then took off and buzzed out the vent. The Black Rider seemed to suck the life out of the room, his tattered black leather duster so dark that it practically absorbed the light. The only light about him was the faint silver glow that peeked out between the cracks and tears in his gloves and sleeves, and the gleam of the delicate silver patterns inlaid in the black ivory grips of his revolvers, barely visible amidst the blackness of his shirt and vest.

Suddenly, the soldier felt terrified, as though his life was being sucked straight out of him, into that terrible blackness. He considered turning around, fleeing, throwing himself from the side of the airship. Anything, even death, was better than remaining in that eerie, silent, empty room with the Black Rider. Then the Rider raised his head.

His face was dead, blueish white, with silver and black tracings, like veins, creeping up from beneath his collar and twining up his neck to stop along the edges of his vistage. His beard and eyebrows were jet black, and his eyes were sunken beneath a heavy, craggy brow. His lips parted slowly, as a single, pristine white cigarette emerged from the depths of his duster, and settled itself onto his lower lip, bursting to life as he closed his mouth around it. He sucked deeply, the ember glowing brightly, and allowed a whiff of smoke to exit his nose as he opened his eyes. They were entirely silver, without a trace of white or black in them, and shone like tiny moons, gazing directly through the soldier’s soul.

All thought of running, or hiding, or suicide suddenly disappeared from the man’s mind. In that instant, all the soldier wanted was to do exactly what the Black Rider wanted.

“You have something to tell me” The Rider rumbled. It was not a question, but a statement.

“We have arrived. Sir. The airshi..” The soldier said, abruptly, without thinking.

“Is within sight of the town. I know” The Rider stood up, slowly rising to his full height until he towered over the soldier “you can go now”

The soldier turned on his heels and left. As he exited the Rider’s gaze, all of the terror he had felt before came flooding back, and he ran headlong down the hall, boots clicking on the floor like a frenzied typewriter, until he reached the bridge. He stood there, outside the door, shaking, and swearing that he’d get off this hell-ship at the next damn port. He didn’t even want his pay anymore.

...


The black airship emerged from the depths of the duststorm, bearing down on the unsuspecting town like a great stormcloud. Her funnels belched fumes and smoke which drifting along her sides, obscuring the cabin from view, but a keen observer would notice the lines of firing ports, and the long, black barrels of bombardment cannon that lined the ship’s flanks. She flew no flag, but the skeleton lashed to the bow, sandblasted clean by the storm and dressed in the tattered clothes of a Lawman Sheriff, was all the flag she needed.

Deep in the ship’s belly, the deck swarmed with activity as men slid down ladders, pulled open lockers and removed weapons from them. They strapped on bulletproof vests, crammed helmets and wide brimmed hats over their heads, draped themselves in dusters and jackets and cloaks, tattered and torn by the desert. They wore sunglasses, goggles, even simple glare masks made by cutting slits in a piece of plastic, anything to protect their eyes from the sand and sun. Their weapons were of every make, model and year conceivable. Men jammed shells into the tubes of lever action rifles, while others beside them rocked magazines into battered Kalashnikovs. They carried pistols, rifles, shotguns and mare’s legs.

As the ship drifted over the town, they surged towards the edges of the bay like a great flood of black and brown, seizing the ropes that fell from the ceiling and dropping down through the deck, towards the town below, yelling and crowing like madmen released from the asylum.

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Memphis, 15:00 Hours, July 20th - 887

Light poured into a small room, illuminating the pair lying in bed. Various articles of clothing littered the floor and a sword sat propped in the corner. Drust had awoken almost an hour ago, but he chose to remain still. He enjoyed the feeling of a woman lying next to him, even if she was just a call girl. However, he wasn't in Memphis on a pleasure trip. He was there for business. Reluctantly, he lifted the girls arm and she stirred awake.

"Leaving so soon, sweety?" Her voice was as sweet as honey, and she gave Drust an almost sad look. He had seen it before. Just a business practice.

"Yep," he responded in a low voice. "I have things to do and people to see." Throwing the blanket off, Drust crawled onto the floor and stood up, stretching his arms, almost touching the ceiling. The wood felt warm on his bare feet. The girl sat up, trying to look genuinely sad. She was obviously new at this. Drust began gathering his clothes.

"But won't you come back to see me?" She asked as she began redressing.

"I'm sure I'll be back sometime," Drust responded as he pulled his green pants up. "Now, why don't you run along? Maybe order me some food?" After locating his bag, he retrieved some money and handed it to the girl, who had already gotten redressed.

With a wink, she said, "Will do, hun." After planting a soft kiss on his cheek, she made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her.

With a sigh, he held his shirt out in front of him. The image of a skull with a crown for a lower jaw stared back at him. The giant X across it didn't diminish the mix of feelings he got when he looked at it. It was a reminder of where he came from. Dismissing his thoughts, he threw the shirt over his head and finished getting dressed.

Feeling renewed, Drust threw his dreads back and adjusted the goggles sitting on his forehead, then slung his scimitar across his back. Making sure it was in a comfortable position, he reached back, gripping the pommel of his blade. Satisfied, he retrieved Wild Card from inside his backpack and strapped his gun onto his hip.

Making his way downstairs, he was greeted by the low roar of men and woman looking to have a good time. Spotting his girl at a table with a steak waiting for him, he worked his way towards her. A few men were talking to her trying to buy her time. As Drust approached, one of the men looked at him, noticing his eyes and smile, and backed away. The others looked as well, and had similar reactions. As he took his seat, the girl started to say something when someone shouted, "There's an airship over the town! People are dropping out of it! Ya'll gotta see this!" The girl stood and ran for the window to look.

Scratching the scar on his cheek, Drust sighed and took a large bite out his steak. Downing a glass of water, he stood and made for the door, lowering his goggles to shield his eyes from the bright light. Everyone was crowding the windows and he had some trouble getting outside, but when he did, he stopped dead in his tracks. Overhead was a huge airship coming out of a dust storm. He couldn't make out any flag signifying it's allegiances, but he knew it was bad when he saw people coming down on ropes. Turning around, he shouted, "Everyone stay inside! Everyone who has a weapon, be ready to fight. Those who don't may want to take cover." With that, he started running towards the sheriff's office.

The setting changes from Memphis to Aldoria

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#, as written by Falron
((Sorry for my inactivity. Website didn't want to work.))

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Cena's eyes narrowed, jaw set as the man started to talking, she was tempted to shoot him just to shut him up. She opened her mouth to reply, to tell him to stop being such as smart ass and just do as he was told. But before she could reply to him she felt rather than heard another person enter the room. Her eyes flicked momentarily in the direction of the person, instantly taking in the Marshall uniform.

She tensed just a fraction more, was she really going to be shown up in her own town? Her gaze locked on the weapon in the man's hands. Breathing deeply through her nose she turned her attention back at the man opposite them. Jason spoke, his voice demanding to be listened to. It was something that Cena was still getting the hang of if she was honest. Though you would never catch her admitting that.

She watched the man, finger tensed on the trigger. Would he do as he was told? Surely he wouldn't dare to fire his weapon, not with two gunslingers opposite him. Even with his own signature weapon by his side, he wouldn't last long should he decide to fire. She could feel the beginnings of a smirk tug at her lips. It would be over quickly.

Her ears seemed to twitch, sounding erupting from above them, muffled slightly by the building. People were yelling, like demons let loose out of hell. The sound became louder and if her ears weren't deceiving her the sound of people sliding down ropes. Her eyes widened with shock, what was going on? Her eyes flicked once more to the Marshall as she said, "You make the arrest, I'll look at what's going on outside."

Without another word she lowered Prometheus and raced out of the room and into the street, noting a man running down the street towards her office. She looked up at the vessel and noticed the skeleton almost instantly. This wasn't good. She ran after the man, yelling "Hey! You! Do you know what's going on?"

She looked back up at the airship, feeling her stomach churn slightly, why were they here? What did they want? She could sense an incredibly powerful aura emanating from the vessel. They'd have to be careful.

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Daichi Nagasaki

"Seriously? Are you really going to arrest me? What happened he- ..Is that an Airship?" Daich stopped mid sentence, hearing the roaring of the airships engine as the female lawman sprinted out of the Saloon. Without a second thought Daichi quickly turned around and began slowly walking towards Tyler's body, bending down and pulling the revolver out of his cold, dead hands. ((Assuming Jason doesn't immediately gun him down by this point that is.))

Daichi then holstered trigger and began to slowly spin the cylinder of the revolver he had just picked up, checking the rounds and mumbling various things to himself. "Airship.. Airship.. Airship.. Why is it flying so low? Is it crashing? No.. No it can't be crashing.. It's hovering.. Staying in one place.. One place... One pla-"

Daich's eyes widened and he slowly turned his head around to look back at the young Lawmen who was most likely yelling various things at him at this point. "Right. Okay. I don't mean to alarm you, but this nice little town is under attack. I don't know about you, but I don't know many regular bandit's that own airships and i'm willing to bet there will an army of guys dropping in any second now, if they haven't already. So, if it's okay with you, I would like to get in a good position before the bullets start flying. You can even follow me around with that gun pointed at my back as I get into a good position." Daichi stated, talking extremely quickly as usual and pausing briefly to inhale a large breath of air before talking once again.

"Or, you can can continue to try and arrest me and we can have a nice little gunfight in here, while there's a huge gunfight outside. It would be like a gunfight within a gunfight. So yeah, awaiting your orders."


((Short post once again. I'm really sorry. There's just really not much I can do besides talk, even walking over to pick up that gun was really, really pushing it. Hopefully Jason realizes Daichi wasn't trying to do him any harm when he turned around and picked up the gun, or he can not realize at all and shoot Daichi in the back. That works too I guess. Oh and uh, sorry about this taking so long. I haven't had much time to RP recently.))

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Jason's brow twitched. This criminal talked too much. And he was annoying, too. He had a sudden urge to shoot the man in the back, but swallowed it.

"The Law permits... temporary lenience in extraordinary circumstances" He placed his thumb on the hammer and lowered it back into safe. "Come. This town is too small to warrant an airship route. I smell bandits"

He turned, keeping half an eye on the other man to ensure he wouldn't try anything. He broke into a light run as they entered the main room of the saloon, beckoning the deputy to follow. They could hear sounds of gunfire from outside, the crackles of Kalashnikovs interspersed with the occasional boom of a shotgun or the sharp crack of a battle rifle.

It was chaos outside, the bandits had wasted no time in turning the town upside-down. Bodies littered the streets, and what bandits where not occupied with dragging people and things out of houses were busy stripping the dead and dying of anything valuable. One bandit was yanking the boots off of a man while another pulled at the headset around his brow, and two more were busy kicking a boy who had pulled a gun on them. Jason snarled in disgust. These men were little better than animals, rotten through with whiskey and every manner of narcotic known to humanity, and fueled only by lust and greed. To kill them was a mercy.

He raised his pistol, bringing his off hand up to cup the bottom of the grip, and started firing in short, controlled bursts of two or three shots. The two kickers went down first, the explosive .40 caliber slugs blasting fist-sized holes in their torsos. Turning, he gunned down two more who had noticed him and were raising weapons. One bandit brought a lever action rifle to bear and fired, the ball taking Jason through the shoulder. Grunting with pain, his gun arm limp, he reached around, seized his shoulder and yanked it back into place with a crunch. The skin and muscle knitted back together in seconds, the bullet toppling to the dirt. The bandit chambered a fresh round, but before he could shoot, Jason put a round through his neck. Failing to encounter enough resistance to detonate, the bullet passed clean through and struck another bandit, killing him instantly.

A hail of bullets erupted in their direction from a group of AM-toting bandits who had rounded a corner, splintering and ricocheting off Jason's armor and killing the deputy. Jason dropped to the ground, rolling up behind a stack of crates, and unloaded on the bandits. Rifles clattered to the dirt, followed by their owners as the Paladin spoke. Jason fired at another bandit who had managed to get to cover, but missed, the bullet striking a house as his pistol locked open on an empty magazine. Cursing, he ejected the spent mag and snapped a fresh one in, thumbing the slide release as he scooped up the old magazine and thrust it into his pocket.

"There's too many of them! We need a better position!" He yelled, firing a few quick suppressing shots. "My kingdom for some covering fire!"

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#, as written by Shiki29
Ein was not tired. His hat was in a case on his motorcycle, and the wind blowing in his face made him feel free. It offset the heat of the day. Ein's manner of dress didn't particularly bother him. All the black clothing would likely make ordinary people sweat a lot, but Ein didn't have a problem with them. Throughout this current mission, he was to deliver a pack of weapons to a buyer. This was simple, the weapons were standard, and they were not even modified. The buyer was trusted, and the entire job was going well. The only thing he had a slight problem with was the distance. Luckily, Memphis was on the way, as a rest-stop. Ein was looking forward to it. Memphis was relatively nice town, and things should be good. That was what he thought until only a short bit later.

Ein drove into the city to find chaos. There was an airship over the city, and Ein could see hooligans entering the city from ropes on the airship. Ein, amid all this chaos, could feel the presence of other gunslingers. 4, to be exact. Another in the airship. Ein was glad he didn't miss the party, except that he had a job to do.However, he wanted a rest-stop after traveling for so long, and 5 gunslingers existing in the same town at once was a good opportunity to see if any of them could help him with his goal. Well, whatever. Ein passed through the streets until he got closer to the center of town, near the sheriff's office, before he decided that there was too much fire there. It was like a warzone. Ein was used to warzones, but he did not like them. Too noisy. Ein slowed down significantly, and turned around, about to curtail it out of there, before deciding against that. Ein wanted to help these people, since un-armed civilians were being attacked. Ein turned again, and his handgun. Ein charged forward, his motorcycle aimed at somewhere there would not likely be civilians, and he leaped off of it, using the momentum to carry him and his foot into the face of one of the bandits. His motorcycle's onboard computer made the conclusion that Ein was no longer riding it, and so it slowed down and stopped after adjusting itself for balance.

Ein slid on his feet until he stopped moving. The bandit was out cold. Ein moved his body to one side, avoiding the path of a bullet before it could hit him. The bullet nearly knocked the glasses off of Ein's face, to which Ein fired at the assailant's hands that held the weapon, crippling him. Ein had no idea what was going on, but he thought it was better to not kill these bandits. Not yet, anyway. Ein dodged a knife aimed at his throat from the side, feeling the footsteps of the bandit behind him, as he delivered an uppercut with his free hand to the bandit's jaw, knocking him off of his feet. The knife flew into the air, but Ein caught it before it was out of reach, and he stabbed downward with the knife, aiming it right so as to pin both of the hands of the bandit to the ground with one knife. No more danger from this one. That was when Ein heard the rallying call from the direction of a gunslinger, through the sounds of the battle. A demand for covering fire was made, and Ein couldn't help but follow a diplomatic effort. Teamwork makes good partners. Or even friends. Whatever the case, Ein decided to reciprocate. He had just the thing.

Ein holstered his weapon, boarded his motorcycle again, and brought from one of the containers on it's side a device the size and shape of an assault rifle. With one hand for steering, Ein sped towards the area of the Gunslinger calling for covering fire. The man was hiding behind cover, hiding from a couple of goods with bigs guns. Looking closer, Ein saw the detail on the gun the man was carrying. Ein could tell that this was a gunslinger's gun. A hoard of the group of bandit's was approaching. Ein aimed the assault rifle-like device with one hand, and it unfolded. It's tip was like a crossbow, but with a horizontal and vertical limb that seemed to join at the middle, with enough room for the projectile to go down the barrel. Ein smiled, pushed his glasses up, and fired at the ground in front of the approaching hoard. He hoped there would not be too many casualties. He was trying to avoid them. Maybe the smoke from the explosive would disorient them. The noise was loud too. Well, whatever.

"Cover your ears!" Ein shouted, as he fired the weapon. The round arced, as the weapon was like an over-sized grenade launcher. It had good range, though. It was more like hand-held artillery. And the blast radius was wide. The round hit the ground, and the resulting boom shook the street. Behind the smoke, Ein could barely see the disoriented bandits. Hopefully that one gunslinger was ok. The explosion should have alerted everyone in the area, too.

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Bandits had begun to hit ground. In a quick motion, Drust unsheathed his blade, preparing for the battle. He could see the Sherriff's office. He was only about thirty meters away when two bandits rounded a corner wielding shotguns. They opened fire immediately, but they were too slow. Al they hit was a wisp of shadows as Drust teleported behind them. In one swift motion, he decapitated them both. As they slumped to the ground, Drust continued towards the office.

As he approached, a woman came running from the saloon asking if he knew what was going on. Upon inspection she appeared to be the sheriff. "No idea, honey, but we need to do somethin' about it." In those few short moments bandits had swarmed the area attacking anyone and everyone. Three bullets tore through Drust's chest and he dropped to a knee for a moment. As his wounds started to heal, he teleported next to the sheriff and pinpointed his attackers. They weren't too far away. Before they could make there next shots, Drust's left hand went under his cloak and he hurled two knives, sticking them in the throat.

Drust could hear one of the other Slingers behind him taking out other bandits and a few more rounded a corner carrying AMs. As they began to unload, Drust grabbed the sheriff and teleported them inside her office. Drust heard a call for covering fire from outside. A few moments later there was a loud sound and smoke filled the streets. Adjusting the pack on his back, he turned to the sheriff, asking, "What's the plan boss lady?"

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#, as written by Falron
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The man that Cena had called out towards turned to face her. Bandits hit the ground in a matter of seconds, weapons firing in all direction as innocent civilians hit the deck, trying to hide from the bullets the sliced through the air. Cena's eyes widened with shock as the man spoke to her, had he just called her 'honey'? Did he not realize who he was talking to? A sharp retort got stuck in her throat as three bullets pierced his chest. That was when it struck her, he was also a Gunslinger.

Before she could as much as raise Prometheus to her shoulder to return fire the man that had been shot appeared by her side. She gritted her teeth before she fired, the bandit falling to the ground, the upper half of his skull blown off by the force. She cocked the gun, listening to the click as the next round entered the chamber and the shell flew out to skid across the ground.

A few more shots rang out before a hand took hold of her, hand tensing on the weapon in her hands, a stray bullet flying through the air. Without warning she appeared in her office, eyes wide as she turned to the man. So that was his power.

"The plan? At the moment it's survive and drive them out of time. I haven't had enough time to assess the situation." She looked out the window into the town, teeth gritted, "Why the hell are they here?"

The setting changes from Aldoria to Memphis

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Character Portrait: Jason Davis Character Portrait: Daichi Nagasaki Character Portrait: Ein Glassville
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Daichi Nagasaki

Daichi followed behind the lawman as he walked out of the back room and headed out of the front door. The Lawman immediately began opening fire and downed a few bandits. Daichi then immediately turned and casually strolled back into the saloon, walking up to one of the tables situated around the bar area and sitting down on top of it, he then placed the small revolver he held in his left hand on the table and began digging through the pockets of his duster.

Bullets immediately began to tear holes through the walls of the Saloon as the gunfight erupted from outside. "Now.. where did I put that.. Ah!" Daichi thought, finally pulling out a small paper bag out of one of his pockets and dumping a muffin out of the bag as bullets whizzed by his head.

Daichi quickly pulled his facemask down, picked the muffin up off of the table, opened his mouth and began raising the muffin towards it, just as he was about to take a bite out of the muffin a bullet ripped through it, entered his jaw, completely shattered his jaw bone and then came out the other side, turning the muffin into dust and his jaw into mush.

"Eghh!" Was all Daichi could get out as blood gushed all over the table he was sitting on and his jaw crunched as the bone began to reform and his skin regrew.

He then spit out a large mouthful of blood, raised his hand up to his jaw and slowly popped it back into place, pulling his facemask back up, picking the small revolver up off the table, and then began sprinting towards the front door of the saloon

Coincidentally, the man on the motorbike came by just before Daichi burst through the front door and fired the erm.. Stun.. rocket.. thing at a large group of bandits and Daichi was greeted with a large cloud of dust and a bunch of disoriented bandits.

((I'm going to assume that there's a medium sized squad of bandits that are standing somewhere out in front of the Saloon, raining down bullets like mobsters with tommy guns and are now stunned with the rocket.. thing.. blast. Since I don't the geography of this town and where bandit's are actually spread out.))

It appeared as if things weren't as bad as Daichi initially thought since there was just a lot of dust in the air and a bunch of bandits standing around like they had just been hit with a sting grenade. Nevertheless Daichi fired two quick shots from the small pistol he held in his left hand at the nearest bandit, hitting him in his left leg and one of his hands, causing him to drop the bolt action rifle he was holding. Daichi then holstered trigger which he had held in his right hand and drew a Karambit with that same hand.

Daichi then sprinted towards the screaming bandit that he just shot and quickly slid the blade of the Karambit under the bandits armpit, slicing the bandits tendons in his armpit and using the Karambit's claw like blade to pull the bandit upwards and then towards himself, attempting to use the bandit as a human shield.

The effects of the stun rocket began to quickly wear off as the rest of the squad of bandits took aim and opened fire towards Daichi, hitting the bandit that Daichi was using as a human shield in several places as spraying blood all over the sand.

((By this point i'm pretty sure Jason would be firing at the bandits too if he hadn't started already.. So i'm just going to assume there's like six or seven bandits really close to us.. so i'll just take out three or four and assume you take out the rest in your next post. Then there's also Ein.. who might be shooting them as well. ))

Daichi then returned fire with the small revolver, hitting one bandit directly in the head and then firing three more shots at another bandit, missing that bandit with one shot and then hitting him in the shoulder and the chest with the other two. Daichi attempted to fire one more time but was met with a click so he threw the empty revolver to the ground and ripped the Karambit out of the lifeless bandits body and pushed him to the ground. Somehow the bandit which he had shot twice was still standing and taking aim to fire, so Daichi simply drew trigger and fired one shot into the Bandit's forehead, causing the bandit's head to practically explode, sending bits of brain and bone in every direction.

Before Daichi could take in the beautiful site that was pink mist a Bandit towards his left fired four shots from a pistol at Daichi with every single one of the bullets hitting him in the chest.

Daichi dived to the right as blood gushed out the various holes along his chest, he hit the ground face first and then rolled on onto his back, aiming at the bandit who was continuing to fire in his direction.

Daichi then rapidly fired four shots at the bandits chest, tearing a huge gaping hole into the bandits chest and causing him to be blasted backwards a few feet. With the Bandit now gone Daichi slowly looked down at his chest that was continuing to gush blood. "My.. my... MY DUSTER! HE RUINED MY GOD DAMN DUSTER!" Daichi screamed, quickly standing up off the ground and pulling up his shirt, letting the bullets that where just pushed out of his body fall to the ground.

((Eh, I don't have much time to grammar check.. so i'm just going to post this now. I have to go do some school work.))

The setting changes from Memphis to Aldoria

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Character Portrait: Jason Davis Character Portrait: Cena Johnson Character Portrait: Daichi Nagasaki Character Portrait: Drust Arthfael Character Portrait: Ein Glassville
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#, as written by Shiki29
Ein didn't even bother to close his eyes for explosive. All Ein could really see was how the center of the street was cracked from the round. The smoke and dust in the air provided a cover. It wasn't exactly suppressing fire, but it might have been better. Whatever the case, the gunslingers were on the move. Ein squinted, and used his powers to shorten space in front of his eye, and to curve some photons, too. Effectively, it was an immaterial, flexible, telescopic magnifying monocle. He looked around to where the other gunslingers were. The one who requested covering fire was there. He looked fairly plain, but not like a stock person at all. Two were in the Sheriff's office, which Ein could see through a shattered window. Just barely, but they were visible. One was a woman with fiery hair. The other looked like nothing more than a bandit, but Ein was not one to judge on appearances only. There was another one, as well. He looked like a girl, and it seemed he was having a freakout in the street, before pulling up his shirt and letting some bullets fall down from the holes they made in his body. A real party, but Ein wanted to see the one who brought all these intoxicated nitwits to the party. The one in the airship. If he could destroy Black Wind, then Ein would be grateful enough to leave now. Or even fight the other slingers. Well, whatever. Maybe he wouldn't have to. He didn't like people who attacked towns for seemingly-no reason, and would hate to bargain with them.

Ein pushed a button on the launcher he carried in his right hand, allowing it to fold. It had some more rounds in it, and didn't need to reload, yet. After a moment, he placed it hastily into it's case, and shit the lid, locking it as well. Ein reached behind his back, and drew Black Wind from it's holster, which was located vertically on his back, and over his coat. The shotgun's weight felt correct in Ein's hand, the familiarity of one of the things he hated most readying Ein for the brawl. Ein put the gun back in it's place, on his back. He'd rather get to safety and make a plan, preferably with the other slingers. The dust and smoke was clearing up, already, and the bandits that recovered from the disorientation of the blast, the ones that were simply trying to see through the dust, were more able to. It would not be long before the seconds of time they had left would run out. The gunslinger who was having a freakout had done so because the bandits near him were lucid enough to fight him.

Ein decided that the sheriff's office was the place to go, for cover. Ein's bike revved to life, gently humming as it sped to where the gunslinger who requested covering fire was. Ein braked hard, and stopped nearby, before speaking.

"Come with me to the Sheriff's Office. We can make a plan there, if all the Gunslingers cooperate," Ein said. After pushing up his glasses again, he sped off towards the sheriff's office, performing the same maneuver of leaping off the bike as it slowed and stopped itself as he did before. Ein angled himself, and entered through a shattered window, landing inside before looking at the other two slingers.

"Let's make a plan. The other slingers in this town should be arriving soon," Ein said, assuming the one he told to meet him at the Sheriff's Office would tell the one who had the freakout.

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Character Portrait: Jason Davis
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Engines roared, lines whirred and gears rumbled as the massive bulk of the airship began to turn, bringing its portside in line with the fast-growing gunbattle outside the sheriff's office. The bandits on the bridge worked quickly and quietly, hunched over the banks of cobbled-together controls. The captain reclined in her chair, scowling. She did not want the Black Rider onboard her ship. But she wasn't suicidal. She would not challenge his authority to his face. Her ship had been chosen to carry him, and she would serve with pride. Even if her new boss, and this business of masquerading as bandits did not sit well with her.

As the ship completed its turn, she felt a cold presence behind her. A long, black gloved hand came to rest on the shoulder of her chair. Her heart jumped, but she forced herself to remain calm.

"You have another request, my lord?" she said, digging her fingers into the underside of the chair's arm to keep herself from turning to face him.

"Yes" the Black Rider rumbled. "You will target the vehicles and buildings surrounding the Lawman building only. Use your autocannon and machine-guns for close in work, heavy bombard cannon for surrounding buildings exclusively"

"You wish to avoid killing the Lawmen?" She fought to keep the tone of incredulousness out of her voice.

"No. I wish to avoid killing them with aerial bombardment. Rest assured, Captain, they will die. But they will die as men, facing their better"

"Would it not be more efficient to keep such dangerous individuals at bay?"

"Do you doubt the ability of your men, Captain?" the Black Rider asked, letting a cloud of smoke escape from the corner of his mouth "Do you doubt my ability? Perhaps, you do not want me onboard this vessel?"

"No, my lord, I merely..."

"You should know that you cannot lie to me, Captain. Your mind is an open book, as is your face. You dislike me. You consider me a usurper in your dominion. What you fail to recognize is that this is not your ship. This is not your dominion. You are merely the steward of it. Now shut your mouth, wipe that pout off your face, and do your job quietly and agreeably, or I will throw you into an engine" the Black Rider spoke quietly and calmly. As he finished, he drew the cigarette from his lips and snubbed it out on the arm of the Captain's chair.

"Yes, Sir" the Captain choked, straightening up and swallowing "Gunnery deck! Target vehicles and cover around the Lawman building. Light weapons only!"

The Black Rider smiled.

"Thank you" he said, and left the room as suddenly and quietly as he had come.

The ship's firing ports opened, the men inside the gunnery deck scurrying about like rats inside a maze as their weapons were brought to bear. Two men manhandled a magazine of 30mm rounds into the breach of an autocannon, as another pair cranked furiously at a windlass at the base of the gun, swinging it about. Teams hauled belts of ammunition to machine-guns, pouring fresh water into the jackets of their guns, and readying them for combat.

"FIRE!" the gunnery chief bellowed over the speaking tubes, and the weapons roared in response. Fire came off the side of the ship in waves, the chatter of machine-guns punctuated by the slower sputtering of the autocannon. Brass flew and clattered across the deck, rolling to rest in heaps of shining cartridges and oily belt links. On the ground, it was as though some cosmic landscaper had taken his lawn trimmer to Memphis's mainstreet. Bullets ripped through storefronts, cannon rounds smashed through walls, and glass and plaster flew in great clouds of glimmer and dust. Two 30mm rounds struck Jason's motorcycle, which exploded, one wheel and part of the engine block coming to rest in the dust not five feet from him.

"SHIT!" he bellowed, toppling backwards and letting the magazine he had just pulled clatter out of reach. As he scrambled for the magazine, another salvo of cannon fire erupted from the ship, shredding two of the crates he had been using as cover.

"shit shit SHIT" Jason hunched over, letting the burst of wood splinters deflect off his back. This once-tranquil town had turned to complete chaos in under half an hour. And he'd left his rifle in the general store. As he was cursing himself for this bit of stupidity, he was greeted by the sight of a lone man riding through the fire on a 'cycle, skidding to a stop in front of him. Ears still ringing from the blasts, he saw the man's lips move, but heard nothing. Giving up the magazine for lost, he drew another and slid it into the Paladin, his index finger guiding it smoothly in until it clicked. Not bothering to see if Jason had heard him, the man dived through the splintered window of the Sheriff's office. And not a moment too soon, because the gunners on the airship had reloaded their autocannon.

THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK!

The cannon spat, emptying its magazine into the front of the Sheriff's office. Three shells smashed into the false front, sending showers of wood fragments down on Jason and Daichi. The fourth struck the newcomer's bike, ripping it in half. The fifth hit Jason.

The impact was like being hit by a train. Jason, who had just stood up to grab Daichi and yank him into the relative safety of the Sheriff's Office, was spun violently around as the massive shell slammed into his side, ripping a fist-sized hole in his lower abdomen. Fortunately, Jason's flesh hadn't provided enough resistance for it to explode, and the projectile had passed clean through him. He didn't have time to scream. Everything felt numb as he lay, face up, in the dirt, the world whirling about his head. He couldn't feel the pain, but he knew it was there. His mouth moved, but no words came out, only a rasping cough that choked itself on blood halfway up.

_________________________________________

The ship's guns fell silent, great clouds of gunsmoke drifting across her flank. Everything had suddenly become eerily silent. Even the bandits (those who hadn't been killed by their own ship's vicious bombardment) had stopped shooting. The airship hung there, ominously, in the air as small fires crackled in the streets, and the dying gasped and moaned. The silence seemed to last an eternity, as a hatch on the bottom of the airship opened, and a black shape emerged, hurtling towards the earth in a billowing cloud of black duster and ragged cloak. The Black Rider struck the ground like a mortar shell, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.

As the dust drifted away, the Black Rider stepped forward, heavy black boots sinking into the dirt road. He stood there, motionless, in the middle of the burning street. The Black Rider raised his head, and cracked his jaw. The sound was like a gunshot in the stillness.

"Turn, heathen!" a voice rang out. The Black Rider stiffened, but did not turn around. A figure in an off-white duster emerged behind him, the sun gleaming on the slide of the nickle-plated AMT Hardballer in his hand.

"I said turn! Turn in the name of God!" the man bellowed again, raising his gun. The Black Rider took a step forward.

CRACK!

The Hardballer roared, spitting a .45 caliber slug at 830 feet per second. The Black Rider didn't even flinch as the bullet struck him in the back.

"I'm bored now" he said, matter-of-factly. He raised a gloved hand, and rotated two fingers and a thumb sharply to the left. There was a sickening crunch, and the Templar's head suddenly spun around 180 degrees, snapping his neck like a twig. The Black Rider lowered his hand, and kept walking towards the Sheriff's Office, as though nothing had happened.

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Character Portrait: Jason Davis Character Portrait: Cena Johnson Character Portrait: Drust Arthfael Character Portrait: Ein Glassville Character Portrait: Daichi Nagasaki ((Resubmit))
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#, as written by Falron
Image





Gritting her teeth the Sheriff continued to fire through the broken window through which the man claiming the others would arriving soon had crashed through. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what was going on, Memphis had no fortune that would warrant an attack of this scale. The only thing being the amount of Gunslingers that seemed to have found themselves in the town today, but there was no way for the bandits to predict this, was there? Shaking her head to rid herself of useless thoughts Cena focused on taking out the bandits closest to her office. She agreed with the other man, a plan had to be formed, something, anything that might reduce further civilian casualties and to drive these bandits out of her town.

Her eyes widened with shock as the airship started firing, the flashing of cannons and guns accompanied by the deafening roar. Buildings were shattered, glass, bricks and wood flying as deadly debris as structures caved in on themselves. She ducked, covering her head as a shower of bullets came crashing through the walls of her office, shards of glass falling to the ground. What did they want?!

She raised herself back up, resting Prometheus on what remained on the window sill only to be greeted by silence. The canon's sudden stop stunned her motionless, even the bandits seemed frozen. The eerie silence pressed down on her ears as her eyes scanned the ruined main street, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, finding nothing on the ground, Cena looked up at the airship in time to see a black shape drop from it. The man landed easily, the earth shattering beneath the force of his landing. The cloud of dust kicked up by the man slowly wafted away, leaving the man standing there in the middle of the street. Completely at ease.

Cena stared in wonder, the massive aura that came off this man making her knees shake slightly. This wasn't good. Cursing under her breath Cena watched as someone was stupid enough to confront the man in the black duster. A gun shot rang out, the sound almost hollow in the otherwise silent surroundings. The man didn't so much as flinch as he was struck by the bullet, Cena half expected him to yawn as he raised his hand. In an instant the man was dead, the sound of his spine cracking making Cena's stomach turn. The body dropped with a heavy thump as the man in black strode forth, undeterred towards them.

Cena watched with horror as he came closer, there was no way she could ever hope to beat this man, it just wasn't possible. Her eyes fell momentarily on the Marshall and the man they were arresting before all this started. The Marshall lay motionless, whether he was dead or not, she couldn't tell. Shakily getting to her feet she raised Prometheus. She probably would make about as much difference as the man now dead with his head facing the wrong way. But as the Sheriff of Memphis, she had to do something.

"Stop right there!" Her jaw clamped shut the moment the words left her mouth, hoping that somehow he hadn't heard the fear in her voice.

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Memphis by Screwface Romeo

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View All » Add Character » 7 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Jason Davis
Character Portrait: Drust Arthfael
Character Portrait: Elijah Cooper
Character Portrait: Ein Glassville
Character Portrait: Daichi Nagasaki ((Resubmit))

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Character Portrait: Ein Glassville
Ein Glassville

"Everyone comes to their senses, sometime."

Character Portrait: Elijah Cooper
Elijah Cooper

See below

Character Portrait: Drust Arthfael
Drust Arthfael

The Tumultuous Bear-King

Character Portrait: Jason Davis
Jason Davis

I am a Marshal of the Lawmen. Justice is my Mandate, the Law is my Creed. And I will strike down, with great vengence and furious anger, all those who would oppose me. For I am a Lawman, and I am the Law.

Trending

Character Portrait: Elijah Cooper
Elijah Cooper

See below

Character Portrait: Jason Davis
Jason Davis

I am a Marshal of the Lawmen. Justice is my Mandate, the Law is my Creed. And I will strike down, with great vengence and furious anger, all those who would oppose me. For I am a Lawman, and I am the Law.

Character Portrait: Drust Arthfael
Drust Arthfael

The Tumultuous Bear-King

Character Portrait: Ein Glassville
Ein Glassville

"Everyone comes to their senses, sometime."

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Elijah Cooper
Elijah Cooper

See below

Character Portrait: Jason Davis
Jason Davis

I am a Marshal of the Lawmen. Justice is my Mandate, the Law is my Creed. And I will strike down, with great vengence and furious anger, all those who would oppose me. For I am a Lawman, and I am the Law.

Character Portrait: Ein Glassville
Ein Glassville

"Everyone comes to their senses, sometime."

Character Portrait: Drust Arthfael
Drust Arthfael

The Tumultuous Bear-King


Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria: Out of Character

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Most recent OOC posts in Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Alright, sounds good to me, I'd hate to see this die right as it's getting to the action.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

I'm still interested in keeping it going. I guess at this point there's not much room for interaction besides resolving the thing with your character and the black rider. We can play that out and see if anybody else jumps on

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Guys... has thing died or is there still hope that it will get revived?

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Someone call some paramedics. This RP is dying.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

LittlePocketz, it's alright :)

I'll reply tomorrow, right now I have to do a massive Maths assignment, luckily the last ever :D Yay for last year of highschool :3

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Sorry for taking forever and that short post, guise. I've been busy with work and such.

Sorry for just kinda messing with your character Falron. I normally wouldn't have, but I feel like it fit the situation.

As far as those guns go, I like the one in the bottom right. Even though, I'm pretty sure as an 8-guage that might hurt a normal person to use. But that's what makes it badass.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Image

Fiddling around with some 8-gauge shotguns (so, basically a small cannon) for a possible character. Which design looks the most baller?

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Alright, folks, we are moving on. I'll be playing Cena until Falron decides return.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

I've sent Falron two PMs over the last week. If he doesn't reply in 24 hours, I'm taking over his character and we're moving forward.

I'm not going to let this RP die.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

I'll add those in my character sheet, when I turn it in later. You're welcome to look at them on my profile, though.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Can I see some examples of your RPing?

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Just a couple notes/questions/comments;

  • You didn't give me any previous RPs to look at

  • Are his eyes a bi-product of his night vision? Standard Gunslinger eye coloration is silver, but I'm cool with it if it's a result of his powers, a la Riddick

  • Forging a Legendary gun kills the Gunsmith.

  • LeMat for the win. Jayne Approved!

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

So, I went ahead and made a character just meow. Saw this and I just could not resist.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

Oh, okay. We are starting now, awesome.

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

I've constructed an extremely rough map that should give you a basic idea of what the continent looks like, with major cities, railways and boarders such as they exist.

Image

Re: Lock, Stock & Barrel - Guns of Aldoria

I've added a character template to the Rules