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Redemption - In Character Board

Postby Cry'Havoc » Sun Sep 11, 2005 12:39 pm

- If the setting is not explicit in your post, please place it at the beginning of your post in brackets for clarity. This one starts in a small mining town, a week's ride east of San Prada -

“Up and at’m, dustmeat. Judge’s ruled.”

The solid steel door of the prison cell slid open, throwing a sudden burst of blinding light against the single figure crammed within. He was thin, with a sunken look about his features; the strained look of someone not quite beaten yet. His hair, a scraggly brown mess, fell in a tousled mane down his back, and a weeks worth of course, wiry hair graced his chin and cheeks. From the midst of his unkemptness, however, stared a pair of wide, amber eyes, their tawny depths live and alert.

“Your alibi held up. That whore came out of hiding… seems like she’s holding something special for you, huh?” The guard said, removing the rope bindings from the prisoner’s arms.

“So I’m free?” He asked with a croaking voice, rubbing his raw wrists.

“Not quite.” The deputy replied, stepping behind his desk and pulling a parcel from a cubbyhole in the wall, placing it on the table. “Here are your things. The council wants you out of town on the next convoy. Here,” He said, reaching inside his vest, “Is your ticket. The branch line to San Prada, leaving in three hours. I’d suggest a bath and a drink at the Comhouse, and try not to get into too much trouble. Ka'peesh?” He said, one hand sinking to his knife belt.

With a silent nod, the man donned his returned duster, covering the prison clothes of coarse linen with the heavy leather coat. Three hours… Time enough for a drink indeed.
What makes loneliness an anguish is not that I have no one to share my burden, but this: I have only my own burden to bear.
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Postby Bmat » Sun Sep 11, 2005 12:59 pm

[Moved to SF/F short stories. If it is not SF/F please let us know and it will be moved to non... Bmat]

Cry-Havoc has started a RP. Please contact Cry-Havoc for information.
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Postby Cry'Havoc » Sun Sep 11, 2005 9:43 pm

The man closed the door of his room, having checked in to the "Free bowl" comhouse. The establishment was a one-stop shopping area, combining Hotel, Bar, General Store, and Recreation; generally in the form of either a pool hall or dancing women... or men, depending on the owner's preference. He was burdened by two parcels now - one, the remnants of his belongings, the other, a rather large leather sack, stuffed to the brim; his purchases from the general store, with the remnants of his money.

He bypassed the lock, knowing them to be nothing but child's play to any thief with half a brain. Instead, he grabbed the high-backed metal chair from across the spartan room - aside from the chair, the only other furniture was the bed and a small wash area - and slid it beneath the doorknob, wedging the door in place.

His privacy secured, he began to disrobe, stripping the prison clothing from his body. Beneath was a supple, well-muscled form; the body of a fencer, perhaps.

He moved to the polished steel head of the washbasin that served as a mirror, resting his arms on either side of the sink.

"Look at yourself, Izaea..." He muttered under his breath, grabbing his knife from his bundle.

---

In half an hour, he emerged from his room, clean-shaven and dressed, everything he owned now on his body. He stood in the hallway for a moment, his well-worn clothes still holding an air of dignity, despite their dust-dulled state. His garb consisted of a pair of kor-leather boots, topped by a pair of long, flowing pair of sand-colored linen trousers. The shirt, though old, was white as bone, it's collar fancy and it's sleeves loose. About his waist was slung a leather belt, one side weighted down with a series of sheaths, each boasting an identical, leather-wrapped knife handle.

His face, now cleaned of the wiry growth, was angular, and his skin held the hardened look that anyone who had lived in the sandstorms had developed. His hair, brushed and tied back into a loose braid, came down past his shoulder blades, leaving only a few strands free to frame his sharp features.

Clasping his ticket in hand, he swung the duster up onto his arms, the sand-scoured leather wrapping about his form in a welcome embrace. The bag he hooked up onto his shoulders, it's contents jangling slightly, before he made his way down the stairs, towards the Branch Line Coach... Towards San Prada.
What makes loneliness an anguish is not that I have no one to share my burden, but this: I have only my own burden to bear.
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Postby Ranryu » Wed Sep 14, 2005 4:18 pm

Cravish just spent a good part of the month wandering around the local shops until today. Getting a notion he walks through the shops in order for the last time heading to a job he signed up for the previous day. By the time he gets to the coach to climb into the shot gunners seat he is eating on a large apple obtained on his trek.

Pulling out the Rifle given to him for this job only he loads it out of the ammo box sitting behind the driver seat. then pockets the rest before any one sees.

With a crooked smile and a twitch in his left eye Cravish proceeds to sit in the sun for 5 hours waiting for the coach to move out at the crack of dusk.
When in Doubt Reload and Repeat.

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ooc

Postby Cry'Havoc » Thu Sep 15, 2005 5:19 am

- hey, sorry all, but I'm going to be in the woods till Sunday night. Feel free to continue; Any characters in Free Bowl should get on the coach without a hitch. -
What makes loneliness an anguish is not that I have no one to share my burden, but this: I have only my own burden to bear.
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Postby Ranryu » Thu Sep 15, 2005 6:45 pm

About 3 hours to go. Cravish Turns and finds the Hand cannon that the driver was to keep in mind. He pockets all the ammo for it as well as the .50 Caliber Desert Eagle.
Now armed with a rifle, Pistol, and a Sword. He resumed his post with a complete grin on his face.
When in Doubt Reload and Repeat.

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Postby capt_tightpants » Thu Sep 15, 2005 9:58 pm

Two men rode side by side 100 yards in front of a cravan of trading wagons. The pair were just two of the twenty men gaurding this caravan through the Rocky Mountains in mid-North America. Due to the uneven terrain the wagons behind them were rarely visible.
"This place gives me the creeps," Danis mumbled into his tan overcoat as he shuddered against a chill wind and tightened his grip on his steel lance.
"Well, you better get used to it," chuckled Samuel without even looking at the younger man, "It's only gonna get worse from here." Sam smiled, looking perfectly at ease sitting atop his black horse in his leather trench-coat, gripping an antique rifle against his leg. The pair rode in silence for a moment.
"Sam, you hear that?"
"You mean that rattler? We don't need to worry about him." Sam smiled again, Danis scared easier than a barn chicken.
"Look at that!" Danis was pointing at a large man crouched not five yards down the path. The man was tall and strongly built, his skin was brown and rough from the wind and sun, his only article of clothing was a long skirt made from snake skins and in his right hand he held a menacing club, formed out of a stout treelimb with several large rock-hard seedpods tied to it. His body was completely devoid of hair.
"Check it out." Sam said to Danis, as he slowly lifted his rifle to his shoulder. The Brown Man let Danis get close to him before exploding into action. The savage lept into the air, bearing Danis and his horse to the ground. Sam could hear his friend struggling with the large man but with Danis' terrified horse bucking on the ground his shot was blocked. Sam spurred his mount forward to get a clear shot, but he couldn't seem to work the trigger properly as the broken and bloody form of Danis came into view. The next thing he knew he was flying backwards through the air from a vicious backhanded blow. The sharp edges on the seedpods ripped open Sams chest and his breath caught in his throught. The last thing he saw was The Brown Man striding towards him, an evil smile displaying his toothless maw and split tongue.
The Brown Man looked up when he was finished with his second trophy, he knew that the caravan would come into sight at any moment, and his family would come out of hiding and fall upon it.
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Postby Ranryu » Fri Sep 16, 2005 11:15 am

Cravish heard some rustling ahead of the Caravan, not taking any chances he checked all his weapons making sure they where fully loaded with one in the chambers.
"Be c.c.c.c.careful there be something stinking around here. It not be me and the beans this time."

With a twinge in his left eye he shouldered the BigBore rifle and scanned the hill sides and rocks.

"Good place of an ambush."
When in Doubt Reload and Repeat.

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Postby capt_tightpants » Sat Sep 17, 2005 11:35 pm

The Brown Man crouched behind a cluster of rocks ahead of the caravan. The prey had wandered right into the middle of his families territory, and The Brown Man knew too that his brother the chameleon was hidden somewhere in the middle of that caravan. The Brown Man rattled his club loudly and around the caravan the cries of the Cainians rose into the air.
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Postby Ranryu » Sun Sep 18, 2005 12:21 am

Cravish heard a cry ahead. Then something moved in the rocks above the caravan. Taking aim he fires hitting the object dead center of the heart. He watch and smiled as the buzzard crashed onto the road just to be ran over by the Coach.
When in Doubt Reload and Repeat.

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Postby capt_tightpants » Sun Sep 18, 2005 12:38 am

The Brown Man and his family ran from their hiding spots, completely silent after their cry and quickly covered the distance to the caravan.
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Postby Ranryu » Sun Sep 18, 2005 11:30 pm

Delete
Last edited by Ranryu on Mon Sep 19, 2005 8:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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