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Post by BigBoss on Jun 29, 2005 1:56:24 GMT -5
Alexander stood in the center of the road, the sun blazing down on his dusty black hat from it's zenith at high noon. It was a hot day...well into the nineties at least and most people were inside where it was marginally cooler. The only people outside were asleep in the shade. A smallish old man wearing a big sombrero dropped low over his eyes lazily snored as he lounged in the afternoon heat. A younger woman stared rudely out from a dark window, when Alexander gazed in her direction, she quickly made herself scarce.
After wiping his sweaty brow, Alexander sauntered down the road and to the nearest tavern. He pushed open the batwing-style doors and stepped inside. The people inside went on with their business, not wanting to have anything to do with the newcomer. Alexander removed his hat and stepped up to the polished redwood bar, where the bartender was washing a pilsner. He looked Alexander over with a contemptuous look.
"Can I help you, sir?" the bartender questioned.
"Vodka." Alexander stated abruptly.
The bartender produced a smal shotglass from a shelf high above his head and deftly poured a bit of vodka in it. Alexander took the glass and tossed it back. He slammed it down on the table and asked for another. He took two more and then ordered a glass of tonic water...
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Post by Harle on Jun 30, 2005 17:49:20 GMT -5
((Sorry for the length... and also if this is a possible intrusion.))
Boskage and basic greenery were scarce within the new terrain as Harle roughly set her boots against the desert ground. Her travels had led her to a much more humid location, as the air was thick with heat and sand. The sun had lessened in intensity as midday was reached, but it still burned brightly and beat against Harle's fair skin. But no brutal marks were left as she maintained her complexion and regulated moisture. As her body was clad in heavy and dark attire, one would only assume that she'd be sweating bullets, or would have fallen to the ground and shriveled under the star's stark glare.
But no detriments befell her as she walked onward, her veil shielding her frigid blue eyes from the sun's smiting light (and it did the same for her short lavender hair). From her dry position, a town laid but a few feet ahead, and the only thing she desired from it was a simple drink and an intimation as to where she was.
Hhm... amazing, from lush to dry in but a few weeks. At least, if the days have gone as such. I wonder if a day's end still comes during the evening...
She was not one for keeping track of the days, let alone where she wandered. Such trivial matters were given scant attention on her part, for she a return was never likely. As she made her way into the town, boots kicking up sand and sending it along a wind current, very few people laid ahead. Many who sought an escape from their habitual abodes sat outside, while either watching for casual newcomers, or resting in their exterior shade. Only the panting merchants stood on the dusty and wide path, as they set up their supplies near store porches.
The homes were either constructed from brick or rustic wood, and some appeared decrepit, as though having remained for centuries within the town.
"This appears... a bit too stereotypically western," she murmured distantly under her breath.
Harle halted within her nonchalant stride as she arched her shoulders, shifting the blade that was leveled upon them. Her grip loosened along the centerpiece of her weapon as her gloved hand still maintained its common dominance over the perennial rose. Only then did most take notice to her apparently ominous presence. A few stray children who had chosen to frolic along the street gawked at her, noticing the thin and careless line that crept along her lips. Her crystal blue eyes met them, and almost for entertainment, her pupils slitted dangerously.
Startled whispers sprung from their infantile mouths as their gazes grew absent, and they skittered away from sight. More inquisitive gazes followed as the children left, and Harle's pupils inconspicuously regressed to their spherical form.
Meh... they should learn not to stare.
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Post by banana on Jun 30, 2005 23:19:33 GMT -5
A burning building, with cries of help from both outside and in. Suddenly, a hero, just in the nick of time swooped into the building and in minutes dropped to the ground with ease, carrying two kids in his arms. He nodded to the mother, who swooned at the sight of him but recovered quickly enough to gather her children into a bear hug. When she looked up again, he was gone. "Who was that?" An onlooked cried out, curious.
"Annnnnd, cut! That's a wrap folks. Good work." The director patted various people on the back, including one of the co-stars, Banana. He was happy because he had found a diamond in the rough: years ago, in his first post as director he'd cast Banana in a role, not too big, not too small. Ever since the roles for Banana were growing bigger, and with that, the money the movie brought in. No one came to the wrong conclusion that this was a coincidence.
Banana retreated to his trailer muttering under his breath. The location of this suit, to put it simply, cramped his style. Hours of standing around under the hot sun, sand blowing with every movement of the wind, sweating like a greased monkey. He had only two retreats from these wretched conditions: his trailer and the local bar. Choosing the latter he shoved some bills in his pocket and after he'd changed, exited his trailer, headed for the bar.
After a approximate 20 minute walk down a path he reached the town, and soon after the bar. Just walking in and breathing the air calmed him down.
There's just something about this place...its good for stress. Not to mention it's drink selection, he thought grinning to himself.
Sitting down at a corner table he motioned for his drink, not needing to speak. The bartender, Emelio, knew him well enough that no words were needed unless way of a conversation. The drink ordering consisted of Banana making a motion and the bartender bringing him his drink. And this is what happened: he picked up the drink, and slightly nodding to Emelio to sit down, drained half of it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he glanced at the newcomer.
"Who's he?" Emelio knew everyone, and was very social, so Banana knew if he did not know about this stranger then it would be likely no one could learn anything of him. The bartender shrugged his shoulders and stood up, and Banana looked thoughtfully at the stranger, taking care not to stare.
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Post by BigBoss on Jul 4, 2005 12:42:31 GMT -5
Alexander took a long sip from his drink and set the glass down; he breathed out slowly. A younger man came in very loudly and sat down in the corner. The bartender went to give him a drink and came back shortly after. Not needing to even look, Alexander could tell this one was still young and not very discreet either...he heard everything he asked about him. It was better nobody knew anything about him.
After finishing his drink Alexander paid the bartender and got up to leave. He shot quick glance in the new boy's direction and smiled. He would be no problem at all. He pushed open the batwing-style doors and walked outside.
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Post by Harle on Jul 15, 2005 16:45:09 GMT -5
Harle pulled her feet into a light amble as her eyes laid upon one of her needed finds: a tavern. It held the rustic air of a western salon, something that she had never encountered in her life. At least, outside of novels. As she walked, casting a dark shadow behind her lithe form, a few wary stares were cast to her back. It unnerved her, but not visibly; their eyes boring into her every crevice, as though she were a freak. But it was plainly uncommon to the people of this arid town to see such a dark woman, who appeared not to perspire despite her dark and heavy attire. Just as their obnoxious curiosity and apprehensiveness agitated her, the deviate qualities outlining her being befuddled and amused them.
Hhm... their eyes don't feel foreign to newcomers. I wonder, despite the merchants that station themselves here momentarily, are all others just viewed as entertaining spectacles?...
Her thoughts had an outward effect upon her, drawing her lips into a bemused expression. Though she tried to avoid it, she would analyze some human behavior. It was easy to note the bland quality in humans when there was a good level of placidity and order. But when things appeared hanging upon the brink of anarchy, humans could almost turn into demons themselves. She tipped her rose upon her bottom lip for a moment, before stepping along a wooden porch. For once, she stood beneath a shadow, more massive than her obsidian veil. A wooden overhang protruded above her, balanced properly by several log cylinders that rested along the edge of the porch.
As she walked along the timber platform, the wooden slabs would groan beneath her feet, as they were worn in and decrepit. One man who appeared to be lazing along the walkway winced as the creaks ruptured his peace. As he rose, with a beset guise and a hand scuttling through his unkempt hair, he froze. An ominous shadow, darker than the one cast by the overbearing wood danced about him as Harle walked by. He didn't risk speaking with her as he feigned a drowsy yawn, and collapsed slackly against a wall, snoring to emphasize his forced siesta.
Harle hadn't taken notice to the man, so his actions were thus unnecessary. Soon, she stood before the tavern, with its batwing embodied doors directed inwardly. But before she budged her way through, a man exited, dismissing the establishment as he went. For a moment, her cerulean gaze rested upon him, before condoning his presence as she walked inward, after his steady departure. As she walked inward, she eased her blade onto an angle, until her form stood fully within the building.
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Post by Harle on Jul 15, 2005 16:48:21 GMT -5
((I'm sorry for the lack of conciseness in this post, and the one before it. But I've finally urged myself to reply, so yeah... this all came into mind. Even with how bland my writing/typing style may be... ^-^;; ))
Just as with any other foreigners, the tavern's patrons kept to themselves as she sashayed between and along the littered and smoky tables. Some men appeared anything less than affable, while others clamored amongst their peers with cards in hand, and money left to spare. Instantly, Harle's nostrils flared at the scent of tobacco and liquor as she eased herself onto a stool, hosted amidst others in the bar . Gladly, without anyone buffering her on either side, she eased her blade from her shoulders and rested it at her feet (with its frame leaning against the counter top.).
Hhm... cigars, tobacco, all the same really. Heh, just another quick way to be sent down to the basement.
The barkeep stood promptly before her, after having served a weary drunkard at the other end. He eyed her pensively at first, noting her impassive expression and apparent attachment towards the rose at her bottom lip. "Miss," he called at first. Harle's glance was quick to reach him, as she lowered the crimson rose from her lips, setting it upon her lap to free both of her hands.
"Can I get you a drink?" inquired the bartender.
"Yes, a pirate's tea," Harle replied in a curt manner.
He simply nodded as he sauntered to the side, grabbing a mason jar as he whipped up the concoction. Harle tossed her lavender bangs upward with her naked hand as she released a small sigh. The location had a homey feel, one that catered to the usual enjoyments of men. It didn't appeal to her, past the fact that it served as a needed reservoir for her thirst. Eventually -and with sudden haste- the barkeep returned, allowing the mason jar to swipe down the counter top as her murky drink rested dormantly before her. She nodded appraisingly towards the men, as he then dispersed towards another in need.
All liquor is like ordure... acrid in taste and with the oddest texture. Still, an acquired taste always causes you to return.
Her right hand ensnared the handle of the jar, as she downed a small portion of her drink, before resting the glass. A tangy luster tinged her tongue as the liquid decanted down her throat, vanquishing her current thirst. Her face gained an expression that appeared to be false elation, but no one could have been sure by simply gazing at her. "Hhm... not bad," she monotonously remarked, before tossing her gaze towards the barkeep as he paced from person to person.
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Post by banana on Jul 29, 2005 22:58:08 GMT -5
The first thing Banana noticed was that he had not been careful enough in his actions inquiring about the stranger. This became painfully obvious when the stranger glanced at him then walked out the door, with an expression that he'd heard the whole thing.
The second thing he noticed was the young woman enter the bar, sit down, order a drink and swig a little.
"Emelioooo"
A call came out, although a holler was more of what it was, gangster style. See, once upon a time young Banana had seen a movie called "Night at the Roxbury" with Will Ferell and Chris Kattan, where they had told a story to many chicks, hot and uggos and in between, a very odd story and they ended with "Emiioooo"
Anyways, the reason Banana called out is because when he saw the young woman come in, what a peice of work he said, to himself. And he was hoping when "Emelioooo" rang out that the woman would turn and look at him, and he would motion her over.
Now all that had to happen was the woman to turn and look at him.
And so he waited.
As he waited it occured to him that maybe the young woman wouldn't come over. There was a good chance he would get a glare, then a turn away that signalled ig-norance. Its hard to explain, but he just had a feeling that that wouldn't happen, though. One of those "today is my day" kind of moments, when self-confidence is high and optimism is the mood.
He lifted his drink to his lips thoughtfully, and drank a little, feeling the liquid race down his throat. A little song came to mind and he sang the words mentally as he still waited:
"Scotchy scotch scotch I feel it race down race into my belly Scotch in my belly is good."
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Mahandronis
Infantry
"If I were any better at holding a sword, I'd cut my hands off for the insurance."
Posts: 109
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Post by Mahandronis on Jul 31, 2005 23:08:45 GMT -5
As if jabbed in the side by a pin, Sirragard sat up suddenly from the bar, thrashing her tail and arms and sending an empty mug flying.
"Yayayayi . . . um."
After she had calmed down a bit, Sirragar looked around her. Slowly, she reached into a pouch at her side and produced a small spherical object. This she handed to the bartender.
"This es for the mug . . . Sorry . . ."
She slouched back down onto the bar, muttering to herself.
"Damn, can't a girl get a break? Not even getting trashed keeps 'em away anymore . . ."
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teran
Warrior
I'm sorry, I think you mis-understood your question.
Posts: 367
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Post by teran on Aug 1, 2005 14:19:36 GMT -5
Sitting out side the bank, Meldron studied the wodden walls of ths turdy building. Looking across the street he then studied the equally sturdy bar. Both were porbably meant to withstand explosions and riots. The two things men loved most, alchohol and money. Turning back to study the bank, Meldron guessed that there was probably some sort of concrete inbetween the wood one the inside and the outside. His usual strategy of burning down the buildings was not going to work in this case, unless he found some help... maybe a little alchohol.
Standing up from the dusty bench, The black suited man set scross the street, somehow keeping his black coat at a bright sheen despite the dust. Coming to the doors he had to quickly jump out of the way, as the strange doors swung open quickly, revealing a man who waked out of the bar.
picking himself up, Meldron studied the mans back, and decided that revenge for his incompetence would have to wait, Right now he needed a little help, and he didn't want to have any trouble getting it. Walking into the bar, Meldron turned his head from side to side, His dark glasses keep his unnatually black eyes out of sight from the wary patrons. Scanning the bar, he found what he wanted, a case full of bottles behind a bar. Bingo.
Walking towards the bar, Meldron took a seat, and raised a hand to the barkeep.
"A bottle of vodka, and make sure its full"
Meldron smiled, this was sure going to be fun
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Blue
Newbie
Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.
Posts: 19
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Post by Blue on Aug 8, 2005 4:12:11 GMT -5
Blue held five cards in his hands, oblivious to everything except the table around him. To his left sat Sunken Sadie, a local woman known to slouch in her chair until her head was barely higher than the table. No one trusted her, despite her gorgeous looks and innocently seductive attitude. To his right was Todd, a man currently so drunk that he would never even remember losing his money at the poker match. Blue’s badge was tucked in his back pocket, and his eyes were fastened on the man across from him, a fellow in a white suit, sporting a bushy, white handlebar moustache across his red face.
The game was five card draw. Blue’s cards were spread in a perfect fan, and a chip danced across his finger. He had learned that people tended to focus more on the chip than his face, thinking it might point out how good his hand is. It was high stakes, with five thousand already in the pot. To his right, Todd threw in one card. The man with the moustache tossed a card from the deck, taking a glance at the 9mm that hung behind Blue’s leather jacket in a shoulder holster. A smirk ran across the young marshal’s face, one which was covered quickly with an impenetrable poker face. Two of his cards were flicked toward the moustache man, who dealt him two more.
Blue did not pick up the cards, and instead studied the faces of his gambling companions. Sunken Sadie’s lip twitched when she was dealt her three, but the dealer had an amazing poker face. It was like gazing deeply at a brick wall. Pulling up the two cards, Blue twitched an eyebrow. He had a full house. Todd threw in a five hundred dollar chip. Blue smirked, realizing that five hundred was lowballing, even if it seemed like a lot. He took his time deciding, a habit that had won many matches. The dealer reached up to rub his neck, showing his anxiousness. Blue threw in three five hundreds, muttering, “raise you one grand.”
Sadie took a moment, then muttered, “fold,” tossing her cards into the middle. The dealer raised his eyebrows, then pushed in his heap of chips. “all in. Twenty grand, or however much you boys have.” Todd took a long time, looking from Blue to the man with the moustache. Sadie looked on with a sort of mild interest. After about thirty seconds, Todd threw in four chips, each worth five thousand. Blue thought Todd might be a movie start, because he had quite a heap of cash, and liked to bet big. Blue pushed the rest of his chips in, letting his grin show now that the chips were down.
“You boys made a big mistake.”
He lay down his cards. There were two kings and three tens. The man with the moustache uttered a curse under his breath, and leaned forward to prop up his head against the table, hiding his face. His cards fell to the table, revealing two eights and three jacks. Todd let out a long breath and hurled his cards to the table. He had a flush. A vein in Todd’s head throbbed, and he suddenly passed out on the table. He reeked of whiskey. Blue couldn’t help smiling, and reached forward to rake the pot to his own pile of money, dwarfed by the collection of chips he had just one. There were butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and a stupid grin pasted across his face.
As he looked up at the faces of his losing opponents, he spotted a rather tall man entering the bar. This quaint fellow ordered vodka… and Blue saw something twitch in the back of the suited man’s pants. He figured this was as good an excuse as any to quit while he was ahead. This was a professional match anyways, no one there he knew beyond formal introductions. He had shared a night with Sadie, but both knew that it was just a one night stand.
“Well, sorry folks, but duty calls. I seem to have spotted a man worth far more than our last pot. Not that it’ll stop me from taking the money anyways, but I must be going. Sadie, if you would present me with the money box. I have seventy thousand if you care to check.”
She nodded quietly, keeping an eye on Blue’s gun. She quickly withdrew seven bundles of hundreds from a gym bag, and handed them to Blue. He gave her a winning smile, tucked the money into the inside of his leather jacket, and sauntered over to the tall fellow with sunglasses. Sliding into a barstool next to him, Blue said, “Mr. Meldron, I presume?”
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Mahandronis
Infantry
"If I were any better at holding a sword, I'd cut my hands off for the insurance."
Posts: 109
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Post by Mahandronis on Aug 8, 2005 23:41:20 GMT -5
"No, shoory, I'm Shirragard, yoush mushed be . . . "
Sirragard suddenly realized that she wasn't being spoken to. Sitting up, she began teetering on her barstool.
"Hey . . . Where am I?"
She remembered that there was something she should have been doing, talking to someone, but she couldnt remember what.
"Aww . . . phooey. Hey, doesh anyone know whirr I can find out where I am?"
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teran
Warrior
I'm sorry, I think you mis-understood your question.
Posts: 367
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Post by teran on Aug 9, 2005 14:18:48 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]"You could presume that"[/glow] Turning to face the stranger, his black eyes fell upon the gun and holster riding on the man's back. Another one of those idiots, thinking that a gun is all powerful, that with it they could not be harmed. Those people made Meldron sick, but he would first find out who this man was, then contiplate his option of killing him.
[glow=red,2,300]"And who be it that comes to me armed with a gun, and knowing my name? Someone with interest or knowledge in my background? Becuase if so, i warn you now, my occupation is my own, my life is my own, and all who dig too deep with not live to see the sun."[/glow]
Turning back to the bar, Meldron motion for the barkeep to bring hurry up with the vodka. If people were begining to take notice of him, especially those who knew his name, he had to hurry before things got out of hand. He had to make sure this whole town and its occupants would meet his gods before he left, or else his mission might be put on hold and that would never do.
[glow=red,2,300]"sit stranger, if you are to delay me, atleast make it worth my time"[/glow]
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Mahandronis
Infantry
"If I were any better at holding a sword, I'd cut my hands off for the insurance."
Posts: 109
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Post by Mahandronis on Aug 9, 2005 15:24:05 GMT -5
Hearing the conversation next to her, Sirragard's ears perked up; even if there wasn't anything happening that related to her, she might hear something interesting. She shuffled around on the bar, then pretended to be asleep as best she could without actually passing out.
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Blue
Newbie
Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.
Posts: 19
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Post by Blue on Aug 15, 2005 20:03:39 GMT -5
Blue raised an eyebrow, surveying the man. He hadn’t threatened or insulted this guy… Blue could see how the man was one of Zulia’s top 5 most wanted. This was the type of man that wouldn’t think twice about skewering you, and would laugh while doing so. The dark sunglasses and short temper said it all. After a few seconds of quizzical examination, he broke out into a smile, and slipped into a stool next to the dauntingly tall figure.
It had been a month since he had taken the case of the Demon they called Meldron. He had never gone after a supernatural being before, since Zaloria had a special team for that, but the SLA (Supernatural Legislation Agency) was critically understaffed at the moment, and so the country marshals had been asked to assist them. As Blue recalled, there were three other men after this known arsonist, but they were even more incompetent and lazy than Blue could ever hope to be. Some SLAPs (SLA Personnel) had briefed the four of them, telling how Meldron was extremely volatile and dangerous. Blue had actually expected more of a fiery man, walking through the town and randomly torching buildings. The SLAPs had said something about how he worshipped fire gods. Thinking fast, Blue spoke.
“Meldron, I am a simple pilgrim who shares your god. Please, let me accompany you, and observe your holy ways.”
He sure as hell hoped it worked. Blue was an excellent actor, and had spoken as reverently as a sinner at the gates of heaven. If his charade didn’t pass though, things were going to get ugly quite fast. Although he showed no outward signs, Blue’s mind tensed in anticipation for any sort of action, and his eyes casually surveyed the room for tables he could dive behind if things went sour. He hoped not though.
It would be so much simpler and safer to travel with the demon until he was in a position to apprehend the obviously more powerful individual. Who knew? Blue was a bit of a pyro himself, and he might get to have a bit of fun. That was the the joy of being a marshal. Travel to exotic locations, meet exotic people. See a criminal and start a fire fight that burns everything to the ground.
As he was surveying the area, Blue caught sight of a dark young woman who had quite a body. She wore a veil and an odd set of clothing, but none could obscure her obvious and exotic beauty. She was sitting at the bar, with an unconscious lush between himself and her. He noticed her pirate’s tea, and grinned. Trying to catch her eye, he winked, then turned back to Meldron. If he was lucky, he could buy her a drink later.
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Mahandronis
Infantry
"If I were any better at holding a sword, I'd cut my hands off for the insurance."
Posts: 109
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Post by Mahandronis on Aug 15, 2005 23:53:38 GMT -5
(inquiry: Blue, are you refering to my character here, or is this just some random woman?)
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