Physical description: Frank stands about 6 feet tall with no boots on, which is rarely ever seen. His hair is Black with flecks of Grey intermittent. The piercing Blue eyes that stare from beneath Frank's Black cowboy hat are rarely held in a gaze... He looks to be maybe in his late forties and his pale weathered face is always scruffy. Frank almost always wear an old tan duster, long sleeved black shirt, cowboy hat and his boots. There is a visible scar under on his neck about four inches long.
Personality: Sociopath, Humanitarian, Underdog, Lover, Fighter, Drunk, Leader, Outcast...
Equipment: Two 1911 Colt .45 pistols with mahogany handles. Shoulder holsters for pistols. An old tan duster. Various pockets in his duster filled with ammunition, an old harmonica, cigarettes, a flask of whiskey, a lighter. Black leather boots. Black long sleeve shirt. Black cowboy hat. Functional belt that holds extra ammo. Bowie knife concealed inside his boot.
Abilities: Frank can seem incredibly inebriated and then suddenly shoot a fly on the wall from 20 feet away; Whether or not this is him playing possum is unknown, but he has been seen drunk on copious amounts of whiskey preforming dexterous feats numerous times. He was called 'Possum' when he was younger for this reason, but hasn't responded to that nickname in 30 years. Frank is very intuitive and more often than not he can size someone up immediately before the even open their mouths and tell him anything. Frank is an incredibly 'Lucky' gambler and also a very sore loser. His gruff but gentle voice is extremely hypnotic and the weak willed often find themselves incredibly infatuated by him and very eager to please him. Frank has an innate ability to sense when he is or is about to be in danger.
Historical Background: It is rumored that Frank originated from Terra, but he has been spotted all across the Multiverse and various legends put him in different times and different places. The only known fact is that on his 19th birthday a black crow began following Frank and is almost always seen not far from him.
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Frank Desolate
Frank is often described by those that know him as a chameleon. He typically wears an old tan duster and a black cowboy hat. The smell of whiskey and gun smoke often linger in the air where he has been or where he is currently. Frank smokes habitually.
0 · 394 views · located in 
Tauvyr Tavern
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by BlueEyedOutlaw
Description
So begins...
Frank Desolate's Story
- Seen 46 Times • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3
A streamlined door opened on the wall behind the bar and a sour smell rushed into the room. Frank stepped out of the previously unnoticed door and quickly closed it behind him, but not before a large black crow flew past his head and darted immediately to the rafters. "Gudamnin' foul bird" Frank muttered under his breath as he wrestled securing the door. Frank spun around and immediately started rummaging behind the bar without so much as a glance at any other soul in the establishment. Bottles clanked together and finally the black cowboy hat rose from behind the bar with a dusty old glass bottle in his hand, the label worn and unreadable. His mouth widened as he put the cork between his teeth and removed it. *pop* *piituuh* The cork was spit haphazardly across the bar. Frank turned the bottle up and guzzled from it like a man sipping his first taste of water after a month in the desert. The smell of whiskey filled the air as droplets grazed down his dusty cheek. From the rafters the crow let out a soft caw.
The echoing crack of Franks knuckles echoed through the rafters and the black crow shivered and returned to cleaning its feathers. Gently setting the half empty bottle on the bar top Frank stared ahead. His gaze was transfixed at something unseen, something far away. After a few moments he calmly walked around to the front of the bar and took a stool at the far end. He reached into his duster and brought out a shiny metallic lighter and a small brown sack that smelled of chocolate and mint. He dumped some of the contents onto the rough bar top and began fingering through them. Reaching into his duster again he removed a small yellow piece of frail paper and dispersed the aromatic crumblings into it. After a short while of dexterous finger workings and tongue lickings he clinched the cigarette in his teeth and struck the lighter. Frank drew deep on the smoke and deposited the lighter back in his coat along with the small sack. Smoke enveloped him as he sat there staring behind the bar at nothing.
Franks piercing blue eyes drifted over to WRATH. Continuing his stare Frank reached for the whiskey bottle and took another swig before setting it back down. Smoke billowed from his nostrils.
Franks eyes remained on the colossal metal man seated to his right. His cigarette had almost burned all the way down as he began the rolling process again. "Drinks are on the house I assume." Frank spoke aloud looking behind the bar at the lack of bartenders and then back to WRATH.
Frank blew a puff of pleasant smelling smoke in the general direction of the machine's rusty visor some six feet above him. "What's the weather like up there Mate?" asked Frank as a hint of a smile etched onto his weary face.
Frank's eyes tightened at the mention of the crow. *CAWWW* echoed from the rafters. The smile quickly left his face as he reached for another swig of whiskey. "You ever heard the phrase 'a man can never truly escape his past'" inquired Frank. He shot a cold stare to the small dark shape in the rafters. "Well it's true." he mumbled as he pulled a small harmonica from his duster. He put the rusty metal piece to his lips and began to play a haunting, slow tune. His cigarette clung to the edge of his lip as he played.
Frank finished his morbid tune and deposited the harmonica safely back into his duster. His hand trembled a bit as he reached for the almost empty whiskey bottle again. He finished the contents and tossed the bottle behind the bar where it made quite a racket as it banged around but didn't break. Beginning to roll another cigarette he looked up at the WRATH's glowing visor and wondered if machines could get drunk. "I ain't in the business of running mate, not in a long time." Frank reached on his side and pulled out a single 1911 Colt .45 pistol and laid it on the bar in front of him.
Frank eyed the massive hulking WRATH. "Well I suppose poor choices brought me here. Maybe a little bad luck mixed with a little good fortune." Frank mused as he grabbed the pistol off the bar. He casually raised the gun to the rafters and fired a deafening shot in the direction of the crow. The concussion from the shot wafted the smoke that surrounded Frank. *CCAAAAWWW* screeched from the rafters, but the bird did not fall, nor did the bullet make a sound of impact. Frank put the pistol back in his holster. Turning back to WRATH he spoke softly, "I'm here because I needed a drink and the whiskey I love isn't found in many places... Why are you here?"
Frank stared at the machine for a few minutes listening to its story then turned back to the crow. Slowly he stood up and gathered himself. He turned and walked past WRATH and patted the machine softly on the back. "That mess ain't good for you in large doses" he said as he walked around back of the bar. Frank bent down and touched something out of sight and stood back up. After a small pause there was a *click* and the streamline door opened again. Frank lit another smoke and stepped into the void. Right before the door slid itself shut the crow darted down from the rafters and wizzed by WRATH's head as it flew into the small slit of visible void. The 'door' adjusted itself back into the wall and a small *click* echoed through the bar. The smell of gunpowder and whiskey hung in the air of Gambits.
The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Side Alley
Frank turned the corner from Main street and slowly walked down the alley kicking the occasional bottle like a bored kid. The slow echo of his black boots drifted along the alley and reminded Frank of a song he heard once. He stopped momentarily by a nice empty stretch of wall and fished in the pockets of his long tan duster and pulled out his tobacco tin. Frank eyed the wall in front of him casually as he began the ritual of rolling a cigarette, which was as automatic as breathing at this point. After the smoke was crafted to his liking he returned the tin to his duster and pulled out a shiny lighter and a small black can with a red nozzle on the top. Frank lit the smoke and hummed a tune staring at the wall with the can in his dirty hand. A bead of sweat rolled down Frank's temple, he felt it escape from underneath his Black cowboy hat. He raised his hand and began to spray the wall with Black paint from the small can, he hummed to himself as he created. This hiss from the spray can sounded right in the alley and a hint of a smile stretched across Frank's beaten face. He worked in long broad strokes and peppered it with the occasional spat here and there. He stopped only momentarily to vigorously shake the small can, the sounds of the marbles trapped inside agitating the paint soothed Frank though he didn't know why. After a few minutes Frank was finished and he spit his cigarette to the ground and stepped back from the wall. Frank read the words he had just brought to life, "THE GREAT SOUTHERN TRENDKILL".
Frank glared at the wall for a little bit before rolling another cigarette. He thought about the words he had written and wondered why he felt it so necessary to mark the wall with them. Franks smidgen of a smile had disappeared as he lit his smoke and began walking back out of the alley. He kicked one last bottle against the wall and stepped out onto Main street.
Frank stormed around the corner from Main street with a frantic pace, his cigarette ember glowing wildly. He did not kick any bottles but instead made his way to the wall where he had just previously written his statement. He stopped in front of the graffiti and pulled the can from his duster and shook it violently. The air filled with the familiar hiss and Frank feverishly wrote another line beneath his original, this time in smaller letters and with more precision. After a few tense minutes Frank stepped back and dropped the nearly empty can on the ground at his feet. He viewed his piece now complete,
"THE GREAT SOUTHERN TRENDKILL"
"if i were god, you'd sell your soul"
The smile crept slowly back onto Franks old face. He leaned against the adjacent wall and slid down to a sitting position with his legs stretched out in front of him. Reaching into his duster Frank pulled out an old silver flask and unscrewed the top. He tilted the flask to the sky and sipped his beloved bourbon, his smile widened after feeling the soothing burn. There Frank sat in the dirty alley way eyeing his work, and for the first time since he could remember he wore a smile.
"THE GREAT SOUTHERN TRENDKILL"
"if i were god, you'd sell your soul"
The smile crept slowly back onto Franks old face. He leaned against the adjacent wall and slid down to a sitting position with his legs stretched out in front of him. Reaching into his duster Frank pulled out an old silver flask and unscrewed the top. He tilted the flask to the sky and sipped his beloved bourbon, his smile widened after feeling the soothing burn. There Frank sat in the dirty alley way eyeing his work, and for the first time since he could remember he wore a smile.
The setting changes from Side Alley to Tauvyr Tavern
Frank meanders into Tauvyr Tavern and listens to the song being sung as he enters. His ears perk up a bit and his face looks at little less weary than normal as he makes his way over to an empty seat at the bar.
Frank sat patiently at the bar awaiting a tender and pulled a tin from his duster to begin his favorite ritual of rolling a cigarette. Dexterously he assembled the little beauty in no time at all and flipped it into his mouth. In a flash of silver he pulled the lighter from his pocket, lit the cig and put the lighter away. A plume of chocolate and mahogany smelling smoke hovered about him as he puffed away and looked over the bar pouring his bloodshot eyes over the various liquors on the shelves.
Eventually a man behind the bar made his way over to dear Frank.
"What'll it be bud?" asked the tender, barely avoiding Franks cold Blue stare.
"Something with a nice burn... Bourbon in fact." said Frank in his dry calm voice.
The man walked over to the shelf and quickly poured a highball of amber colored liquid.
"Bring the bottle." Yelled Frank a little louder than he intended.
The Barman brought the bottle and glass over and sat them both in front of dear Frank, who was by now encompassed in a thick cloud of sweet smelling smoke. Frank took a sip from the glass and shot an eye at the tender that implied he'd pay when he was finished. The bartender went back about his business. Frank enjoyed his bourbon and listened to the background noises of the tavern, mainly the lady singing from stage with her haunting voice. Frank felt his foot tapping to the tune and stopped it. He felt very at ease here and that put him slightly on edge. He took another sip of his bourbon and listened.
"What'll it be bud?" asked the tender, barely avoiding Franks cold Blue stare.
"Something with a nice burn... Bourbon in fact." said Frank in his dry calm voice.
The man walked over to the shelf and quickly poured a highball of amber colored liquid.
"Bring the bottle." Yelled Frank a little louder than he intended.
The Barman brought the bottle and glass over and sat them both in front of dear Frank, who was by now encompassed in a thick cloud of sweet smelling smoke. Frank took a sip from the glass and shot an eye at the tender that implied he'd pay when he was finished. The bartender went back about his business. Frank enjoyed his bourbon and listened to the background noises of the tavern, mainly the lady singing from stage with her haunting voice. Frank felt his foot tapping to the tune and stopped it. He felt very at ease here and that put him slightly on edge. He took another sip of his bourbon and listened.
Frank felt a strong urge to turn around and watch what he was hearing. It was a magnetic sound or feeling mixed together. He knew he wasn't drunk yet but he could scarcely contain himself from turning his head. He decided his best bet would be to move down the bar a bit so he could view the mysterious singing lady without appearing to stare. He gathered his glass and bottle and moved a few seats down the bar, cigarette pursed in his lips. From his new spot Frank began to study the features of the woman singing. She almost looked familiar to him, but he brushed the thought aside and sipped his bourbon quietly as he listened to her soothing voice.
Frank's piercing Blue eyes beamed from underneath his black cowboy hat, he could not take his eyes off the Lady on stage. Frank felt hypnotized by her song and felt almost as light as air. Every time he felt her eyes coming close to his he would look down at the floor of take his cigarette out of his mouth and pretend to fix and invisible run in it, but he desperately wanted to see her eyes. Suddenly amid one of her notes Frank found a small second to pull himself back inside himself and realized that he was behaving strangely. He turned and poured a larger glass of bourbon and continued listening to the teasing song in the background. Frank could swear he felt the womans eyes on him but he dared not entertain the idea. He was a busted old outlaw and knew his place. With that thought Frank turned the highball glass up and took it down in a fell swoop. Immediately he poured another and began to twist another smoke. Frank really hoped the woman would sing forever.
Frank had watched the Lady finish her song and walk down from the stage and towards the bar, he immediately felt a nervous twinge in his stomach and grabbed for his pistol out of instinct, though he quickly let it go and instead began rolling another cigarette to keep his eyes busy. He could see her close to him in his peripheral vision and he was fidgeting with the cigarette.
When Frank heard her speak to him with her peaceful voice he fumbled and dropped the cigarette. "Shit" he stammered as he bent down to grab the smoke off the floor. Upon standing up Frank locked directly into her gaze... He almost dropped the cigarette again. For a moment all he could do was look at her, he felt his mouth opening and a bead of sweat ran down his spine. "You have a beautiful voice!" Frank almost yelled at the woman. He instantly realized he had spoke louder than intended. "You have a real nice voice mam." Frank bowed his head slightly at her and rolled her another fresh cigarette in seconds flat, tossing the other into his pocket for later. Frank held the cigarette out to her and waited for her to take it so he could be quick with his light.
When Frank heard her speak to him with her peaceful voice he fumbled and dropped the cigarette. "Shit" he stammered as he bent down to grab the smoke off the floor. Upon standing up Frank locked directly into her gaze... He almost dropped the cigarette again. For a moment all he could do was look at her, he felt his mouth opening and a bead of sweat ran down his spine. "You have a beautiful voice!" Frank almost yelled at the woman. He instantly realized he had spoke louder than intended. "You have a real nice voice mam." Frank bowed his head slightly at her and rolled her another fresh cigarette in seconds flat, tossing the other into his pocket for later. Frank held the cigarette out to her and waited for her to take it so he could be quick with his light.
A big smile etched on Frank's withered old face as he saw her enjoy the cigarette. "Yes I did enjoy it. Quite a bit." Frank managed. He felt a little less tense now that she had so readily smoked one of his cigarettes. Frank sipped his bourbon a little and eyed her up and down in the least offensive way he could. "I don't get around this way much. Guess i been missing out. You play here often Miss? Oh, My names Frank by the way." Frank was listening to his own voice as he spoke and it made him feel like he was watching a film. He puffed his cigarette and adjusted his duster. His piercing Blue eyes kept finding their way back to hers.
Frank watched her finger grace the rim of her glass and he cleared his throat. He had noticed her lack of color and the strange monochromatic tones that made her up but really he hadn't thought much of it. Every time she spoke it made the little hairs on the back of Franks neck stand up, not in a an unnerving way but in a way that felt very calming. Frank caught himself sipping his bourbon every time she sipped from her glass. Without thinking Frank had stared rolling up two more cigarettes, Frank often didn't find it out of the norm to chain smoke while he was drinking, and if the Lady asked he would already have one ready. Oh clever Frank he thought. "It's nice here. A bit less uhh, weird than Gambits. I usually don't hit the fancy joints but i figured what the hell." Frank thought he sounded carefree in his mind. He blew a smoke ring after he finished rolling and looked at M. "You are very beautiful." Frank said looking right in her eyes. His voice didn't crack or quiver but instead rolled like a wheel in a groove. "Its nice to see a pretty face with a pretty voice to match." Frank smiled at her, his face looked completely different when he smiled.
- Seen 46 Times • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3