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Valora Bowing

Second in Command "Big Red"

0 · 125 views · located in Earth

a character in “Weird West”, as played by InfernalWolf

Description

Valora “Big Red” Bowing


Alias: Big Red
Age: early 20’s
Birth date: July 21
Current Residence:N/A
Birth Place:Alma,Texas
Allegiance:Herself/The gang
Belief/Religion:Agnosticism
Titles/Honorifics: Professor, Teacher.
Profession:Ex Professor turned Criminal
Hobby: Writing, Reading
Gender: Female
Race:Human
Strengths:Very Intelligent (Genius Level), Master Tactician, Keen sight and aim Flexible, and fast.
Weaknesses: Lacks Strength, doesn’t pose much of a visual threat, frail, doesn’t work well under pressure
Height: 5’7
Weight: 130 pounds
Build: Slender, toned
Hair: short jagged hair, red
Eyes:light brown
Skin: Somewhat pale
Handedness: Left
Scars: Wears an eyepatch over left eye, damaged by father, still functions but has a gash across it, which she doesn’t like.
Tattoos: Barb wire around her right arm
Basic Description: A Fairly tall woman with short, jagged, red hair,a hat usually covering it. Teeth whiter than polished ivory. Pretty woman, though somewhat average (7or8/10), with a beautiful voice (sings alright). Her knowledge makes her sexy and sometimes annoying, though it is very useful. She appears to be a mixture of Caucasian, and Asian. Her father white and Her mother mixed, Asian and white.
Disabilities: Can see from left eye, but chooses not to utilize it, causing her vision to be impaired on her left side, due to embarrassing gash over left eye.
Most Prized Possession (Material Value): A bracelet made of gold passed from generation to generation engraved with her great, great, great grandmother’s maiden name
Most Prized Possession (Emotional Value): same as above
Likes: Literature, Poems, Comfort food, Men, Women.
Dislikes: Arguments, rudeness,
Goals: To publish a book, and become wealthy.
Fears: Father, Disappointing parents, Dying at a young age
Mannerisms:
Psychological Condition: Collected and Aware, though she loves her brothers in combat, you can never fully trust anyone
Aptitudes: Acute aim from far distances and mid range, able to read people well (emotions)
Superstitions: The norm, ranging from monsters/creatures, to great heroes who lived long ago.
Morals: Refrains from hurting/stealing from elderly people.
Positive Characteristics: Extremely caring and gentle, Respectful, Kind.
Negative Characteristics: Can be to Kind at times and sometimes gets taken advantage of.
Relationships:Family is the most important thing to Big Red, Family includes her Brothers at arms (The posse)
Relatives: Distant family lives across the US, immediate family currently resides in Alma Texas, her father, mother, and younger twin brothers.
Rivals: None at the moment
Pressures/Problems:Providing for her poor family, and keeping her mother healthy, treating a incurable sickness with medication that only stall’s the virus.

Weapon Name: Buster Blaster
Type: 1878 coach gun
Function: Killing, blowing someone into bits.
Description: A very old Doubble Barrel shotgun, with incredible power.
Item Value: Family Air loom, worth much to a collector, but only worth a couple of dollars to the regular man.

Weapon Name: Jack & Jill
Type: Tactical Tomahawks
Function: Throwing long distances, hacking and slicing
Description: Two customized tomahawks with rubber grip, made from steel
Item Value: Costly, a few hundred just for one.

Current Story: Valora grew up in a broken home. A drunken abusive father coming home late every night, causing havoc throughout the small house they owned. Beating everything in his path, the cause of Valora’s disfigured eye. As she grew older she decided to develop her education, by going to residential college. Seeing how smart Valora was, they funded her to go on to a better college furthering her education. Soon after she graduated her mother became ill, with an incurable disease. After finding a job, she realized it wasn’t paying enough to support her and her family, especially her mother’s medicine. This led to her quitting and using her skills for more dastardly deeds.

So begins...

Valora Bowing's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: James Doolin Character Portrait: William Silvaro Character Portrait: Valora Bowing Character Portrait: Leos Kroh
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#, as written by dig17
James Doolin had been watching the train ever since it pulled in. The antiqued machine needed to be lubricated at multiple stops on its way to the other side of the Mississippi; it was the process of a time before them, like an echo reappearing long after one has spoken. Indeed, James had always enjoyed seeing trains; they were the most complicated and interesting amalgamations of steel and fire that had ever graced his little farming community of Abilene, Kansas. Their whistles could be heard from over the largest hill he'd seen until he was 16, from what seemed like miles away; as soon as it was confirmed, he'd race to meet it with his brothers and sisters, waving the conductor on as the shipment of coal or food or people passed away from them like a dream at dawn. Those were the good days, filled with simple sunsets and pretty neighbor girls. As Leos' voice buzzed in his ear, he decided that it was all worth the work he was doing so far away from home.

"Ganger to tha Ghost, we's got a straight. Be ready to cash, please."

The plan was simple enough. The real question was if it would go right. He hadn't tried anything like they were about to, but after riding with the Kansas Rangers during the Bloodletting, he hadn't done much of anything more than twice. It was the lifestyle, the idea of adaptation inside the frame of their capabilities, which was more than they'd figure a lot of the time. Either way, it was time to sing old Willy and Val their cues; he had taken to singing old folk songs learned on the trail in Kansas as a way of confirming to his 'Posse' that he saw elements of their heists ready to be executed.

"Ah been with Sally, ah been with Sue, ah been with Cindy and 'er sister, too." He huffed up a breath. "Now ahm tryna settle down, start a family with that cute lil Kim," James paused a moment to take note of the plume of smoke coming up from the great steam engine on the train, hissing with energy. "But now that ah tasted blood, now this wine tastes too thin."

He realized most of the townsfolk seemed ugly. Really ugly. Royal Territory Of California ugly. These weren't farmers, surely; these were folk who made their living in the fort. Self-sustenance inside 'civilized' areas always resulted in the worst mish-mash of genetic code that could be combined. A blender of the bullshit; only the weakest members of the species lived in towns like this. James bent his head down to spit in the dirt, more out of contempt than necessity. One out of every five women who passed him were even worth glancing back at; out in the farmland, a farmboy NEVER gave the neighbor girls less than two looks. Maybe it was the water that made them so pretty; he had to admit, the water source of Fort Travis Junction seemed tepid, likely infected with some ungodly parasite. Perhaps this was God's own way of telling James that this state was cursed and needed to be robbed of their treasures, such as the one on the train he had caught wind about. Either way, all he kept thinking about was the sweetness of little Jolene Hutchinson.

"Ah got a needle, don' be alarmed, it shoots streams o' lovely things into my arm. Well ah'd sell my own mother for that sweet heroin." He tipped his hat to an older woman who looked back at him, somewhat disgusted or horrified at the lyrics. "Oh, now that I've tasted blood, now this wine seems too thin."

He began strolling toward the saloon. Maybe they didn't call it a saloon, or it wasn't titled the saloon, but Goddammit, it was a saloon. They served beer and pussy, and where he came from, that was called a saloon. Regardless, he didn't see much of a fighting presence there; no military or peacekeepers in uniform, for sure. If there were, they'd be served copper-coated candy if they decided to put up a fight once the gang rose into action.

"Sometimes the white coats, they hide black hearts, we learna to sugar coat the same black guards." The last part of this stanza was one of his favorites, surely one lyric he'd take to his grave; the Kansas Mounted Rangers sang the song often, and they'd get the loudest when the last stanza came about. "Well, ah turn lead into gold, ah'll cure original sin. Oh, now that ah tasted blood, now this wine seems too thin."

He stopped and looked out. He hadn't seen Willy or Val anywhere. Maybe he wasn't looking hard enough; maybe he didn't WANT to see them. At the very least, he didn't want to give their position away by constantly eyeing them as they moved, so he stood in place, leaning against one of the posts outside the saloon doors, staying out of the way as he reached into his coat and found a ratty cigar, which promptly went between his lips as he lit up a large flame from several matches at one time. He puffed the smoke out, enjoying the flavor as he took one last look around before breaking radio silence; nobody was talking. If they didn't acknowledge him, he'd have to improvise, and that would be too much fun.

"Willy, how's the rest of the song go, ah?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: James Doolin Character Portrait: William Silvaro Character Portrait: Valora Bowing Character Portrait: Leos Kroh
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"Ganger to tha Ghost, we's got a straight. Be ready to cash, please."

The commlink buzzed to life, something that had felt like an eternity and it was exactly the thing that Leos was waiting for. He reached overhead in the cockpit, flipping a couple switches here, turning a couple dials there, then punched a small red button labeled Ignition.

As he pushed it in, the external fans built into the wings started spinning, generating enough lift to push the craft from the ground it was perched. The Insurgence was alive...

"This is Ghost. Little blue bird is in the air, I repeat, blue bird is in the air."

Finishing those words, with his left hand, Leos set his little radio on loop, playing his little "pump music".

The blue metal beast roared to life, its nose shifting into a climb, quickly hovering away from its perch. It thrusted forwards, maintaining altitude as well as gaining speed, its nose now slightly leaning towards the ground. Leo check his altometer...

10 meters and rising...

15 meters and rising...

He looked out through the cockpit's windshield, pulling back on the throttles. People outside didn't know if this guy had a deathwish, appearing as if he wasn't going to make it over the station.

25 meters and rising... And Leo had made it over the station's topmost exterior paneling. Veering off away from the town's fortifications, the Insurgence appeared to be heading straight into a dust storm.

"Ghost to gang, my little birdie goes tweet tweet tweet..."