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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 14, 2014 0:44:26 GMT -5
It was a quiet, dusty town, picturesque of the west with low wooden buildings and wide streets with raised clapboard sidewalk. It was a little eerie though and tough to tell if it wasn't a ghost town since there were no people around, and the place looked like it had fallen into disrepair. Or maybe this was just overuse, but still there was not a soul to be seen.
Except for the cowboy in white. It was hard to tell what stood out more, the color of his clothes which clashed with the musty tan background of everything, or the tune he set loose upon the air with a harmonica. It drifted through town, across streets and down alleys.
Time seemed to be on his side, and not a care in the world could trouble him, as every so often he stopped to take a swig of the good stuff resting on a post beside him.
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Post by Kyubey on May 14, 2014 3:52:43 GMT -5
From the distance, a sound of chains jostling together could be heard. If one were to listen carefully, they would also hear footsteps, in time with the clanking noise from the chains. The tranquil peace of the dusty town had been broken, by the arrival of a small group of travelers.
They were roughly seven in all. Dressed in shabby clothing, they were a rather unimpressive lot from basic appearances. Though they moved in a group, all seven of them had a different gait, and no two were focused on the same thing. From their attire, one would be able to tell that this was a band of sailors, more specifically, a crew of roguish pirates, of the worst variety. The one thing that each and every one of them had in common, was a certain hardness in their expression, and a confidence in their stride. These were not a fresh, young crew, just set out on a voyage. These were experienced men of the sea, with many years of ships and knavery behind them.
In this crew, there was a thin, pale, nearly skeletal man with long, stringy hair. There was a bespectacled man in a stained dress shirt, very out of place amongst this band of brutes. There was a rather androgynous sailor wearing a bandanna, with an axe slung over their shoulder. There was a man with a flowing black jacket, shiny black boots, and a sword swaying at his hip, kept in a black sheath. There was a large, bulky fellow, holding a proportionately large saw. And, near the front of a group, was a small child, a boy, whose grim, bitter face seemed unfitting for his age.
Finally, at the head of this group, was the crew's captain, a tall, filthy scoundrel, who possibly was the most shabby of the lot. He wore a long, brown coat, riddled with holes, and a tricorn hat. When he spoke, his voice had a rough, cracking quality, that seemed just like the rest of him. As he walked, he tended to sway from side to side a little. In his right hand, was the source of the clanging sound. Starting from his wrist, and enveloping the entire hand, was a mess of chains, nine in all, that dragged behind him. None of the chains were quite the same length, but all of them were in the range of about thirty feet, and dragged along the ground behind him, as he walked. Little spiked balls were at the ends of each of these balls, made of the same metal as the rest of the strange weapon, and cementing exactly what, exactly, the chains were for.
"Ahoy," called out the captain, as his group drew closer to the cowboy. Once they were at a respectable distance, he stopped, and the rest of his crew followed suit. "That's some lovely music, there. Haven't heard a thing that could match it for months now. My hearties here are all fine when it comes to sailing and fighting, but unfortunately none of them appreciate anything so fine as a good song. You may call me Singleton. Captain Bardsey Singleton, if you'd like, and these are my crew, the Black Spot Pirates."
Bardsey smiled amicably at the cowboy, flashing yellowed, uncared-for teeth, and his eyes drifted to the drink beside him.
"Pardon fer asking, but me and me mates have been a walking for some time, and we've developed somethin' of a thirst on our way. Deserts like these ain't exactly our domain, see. You wouldn't have any drinks to share with the likes of us, would you?"
The pirates behind him did not seem to share the seemingly friendly attitude of their leader, and they all stared up silently at the cowboy, as if waiting for him to make a move.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 14, 2014 4:15:18 GMT -5
"Well howdy do."
With a contrasting smile of pearly whites, the cowboy lifted his hat in greeting. There were a lot of them, not just one. It had been some time since a player chose to play the game like that, but he was always ready for any challenge. It seemed though that they weren't the kind just to go rip-roaring about the place and making a mess of things. It seemed obvious what they were after, but at least they were making an effort to be friendly.
"Sure thing pardner. Paid the townsfolk to take a little vacation while ya'll was mosey'n on through, but the place is about as good as you'll ever see it... or should I say, ship shape."
Chuckling to himself, the cowboy paced around the fence and up the steps to the clapboard sidewalk, his spurs a jinglin' and a janglin' as he went. He made it to the corner of an intersection, only about two buildings down, and pushed through the swinging doors to what was indicated by sign a very obvious saloon. If the crew cared to follow, by the time they made their way in, the cowboy was already behind the bar. Facing the back mirror with the shelves of drinks, he stood with his hands on his hips surveying the lot. Already on the counter behind him were as many cleaned glasses as there were crew.
"So, what's your medicine?"
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Post by Kyubey on May 15, 2014 1:46:34 GMT -5
"You have my thanks, mate."
Singleton followed the cowboy to the saloon, and motioned for his crew to follow. Still silent, the bunch of pirates obliged, following their captain in and proceeded to take seats at various points. While one or two of the pirates, like the big man and the one in black, made themselves at home immediately, the rest were clearly wary, and held tight to their weapons. When they saw the cowboy turned away from the group, the man closest to Singleton, the thin, pale figure, leaned and whispered something to the captain, which caused him to frown and shake his head vigorously.
"Relax, boys. There's good drinks bein' offered here. Only a fool would pass that up. Drink while ye can, or else you're no pirate at all, I say!"
Chuckling to himself, he pulled up a seat at the counter, putting his free hand, that is, the one that wasn't wrapped up all in chains, on the bar. His eyes glanced down to the cups, having taken notice of the speed that this stranger must possess.
"Rum, for the lot of us," he ordered, moving his hand to reveal a small pile of coins.
"So you mean to say to me that people lived here? You must have a lot of spare beri on you, to buy a way out for all of 'em." He flashed a grin again. "That's good. I like dealin' with the rich types. Let's make this a row worth rememberin', aye?"
The cowboy would have continued to hear the rustling of the chains held by the sea captain, though his arm had long been held still. Even as he sat there at the counter, the chains shifted around slightly. It was very much as though they had life of their own.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 16, 2014 3:12:22 GMT -5
"Rum! That's a good one."
The cowboy filled the glasses with what the saloon had available; whiskey. He wasn't a bartender though, so he spilled a fair amount across the bar with a few "Oops." here and there as he tried to fill the various glasses. Neither was he a waiter, so he slid the glasses to those he could at the counter, and left the rest for the pirates to figure out what to do with.
"Only a vacation, reckon they'll be back before long, though I do have a pretty penny or three. Wanted men are worth a lot you see. A group of wanted men, worth a whole hell of a lot."
The cowboy appeared none the wiser as to what it was Singleton had in mind. Here merely lit up a smoke, but kept an eye on the door. A part of him wanted to see how the lot of sea rats would take their drinks. If rum was what they were used to, then depending on what kind they took, this might be like getting a kick in the teeth.
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Post by Kyubey on May 17, 2014 19:38:06 GMT -5
"So, you're a bounty huntin' sort of man," Singleton remarked, holding onto his drink but not consuming any of it. "A fair trade, I suppose, though it's one that's caused some trouble for me in the past, having a fair price on my head myself, and all. If you are a bounty hunter, then I imagine you've heard my name before, and my reputation."
He lifted his glass to his lips, but paused before drinking it. A confused expression crossed his face, and he shot a knowing sort of look to the cowboy, as if to convey that he could tell without drinking that he hadn't been given what he ordered. The look only lasted for a moment, for right afterwards, he suddenly raised the drink high up in the air.
"A toast, gentlemen! Today, we raise our glasses to honor the man who provided us with them! He welcomed the likes of us into his town, and gave us sustenance! Never have I seen a soul with so much hospitality!"
The other six pirates lifted their own glasses in the air, and clinked them together with a loud, coarse cheer. Most then drank their whiskey, and had varying reactions to them. Some, like the heavyset pirate, seemed to enjoy the taste, while others, like the one in black, just sipped it once and didn't touch it again. The one who took it the worst was the boy, who seemed to be fighting to not cough it out as soon as the beverage touched his tongue. The pale man, meanwhile, did not drink at all, just as he did not participate in the earlier toast. As for Singleton, he downed the contents of his glass with one great gulp, before slamming it back down onto the counter with a satisfied sigh.
"Aye... that's good. It's no rum, but it'll do." Now that alcohol had entered his system, a change seemed to wash over the man. Before, Singleton had been friendly, if a little uncivilized, but now he was silent, trembling with some otherwise unseen excitement. His breath was heavy and rapid, and he kept his eyes hidden under the brim of his hat. "Yes, I'm ready now. I feel alive, I do. Alive... and restless."
At this change in the captain, one of his crew, specifically the bespectacled pirate, dropped his head downwards with a troubled expression.
"Oh dear."
"Best be ready, mate," Singleton growled to the cowboy, looking up to stare his opponent in the eye. "I'm feelin' ready to get started 'ere."
Under the counter, the chains tied to Singleton's wrist began to move, though Singleton's arm was entirely still. The chains slithered and writhed, much like snakes, poised to strike.
And strike they did. Four of the chains, all at once, lashed at the cowboy, not over the counter, but through it. With a crash, and much splintering of wood, the bar counter was torn asunder, as the metal weapons, with the same ferocity as a living animal, sought their true prey. A slight, cracking laugh escaped the Captain's lips, delirious with pure bloodlust.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 17, 2014 22:40:02 GMT -5
If the chains were coming over the counter, then the cowboy didn't see his path of escape blocked. He was backed up against a wall anyway, so he just jumped up on top of the bar, and made to run the length of it to the far end and land back on the floor. He didn't try to do anything else at the moment besides running away from the seeking chains, but along the way he sent a sideways kick with a boot, aiming to clock the captain one as he ran past.
Assuming there was no effort by the rest of the crew to also attack, then if the cowboy made it to the end of the bar, he'd hop down and take cover behind it.
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Post by Kyubey on May 19, 2014 15:03:26 GMT -5
Singleton's mouth was kept in an excited sneer as the cowboy not only saw the attack coming, but managed to avoid it unscathed as well. He loved a good fight, and this was already turning out to be just what he expected it to be. That is, assuming the cowboy meant to do something other than
As the cowboy ran along the bar, the other pirates in the room drew their weapons, ready to stop the enemy in his tracks. The bandanna-wielding pirate, in particular, already had his axe raised, poised to swing.
"Avast, Vincent! This fight's mine!"
There were several groans in the room now, but the pirates heeded the orders of their captain, and stood back, letting Singleton take control of the situation. Not far behind the cowboy, Singleton jumped onto the bar, though he had to move to the part he didn't already destroy, costing him precious seconds. By this time, the cowboy was already crouched behind the bar. Now knowing the extent of the man's speed, Singleton lashed out with his chains again, this time, using all nine chains. Three flew straight for the cowboy, while three others, moving just slightly slower, soared just above the bar, while the remaining chains struck at the air on the other side, just for good measure. The Captain's plan was to cut off all means of escape, but how well that worked remained to be seen.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 20, 2014 18:51:35 GMT -5
The chains collided with and smashed the cowboy out through the wall of the saloon, but he seemed to know this was coming. Right before the chains collided, he flicked his cigarette towards the bar. Smash he went outside in a clutter of wood and dust, but when the light hit the bar, the whiskey-soaked counter top ignited the length of the way in a matter of moments. Maybe this was why the cowboy spilled all over the place, but standing on top for too long might be a bad idea.
The cowboy himself meanwhile, clamored up the space between the buildings he had been knocked into by using his feet against both sides. His plan was to get back into the saloon through an upstairs window, hoping he'd have enough time with his little distraction.
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Post by Kyubey on May 21, 2014 1:54:56 GMT -5
Singleton had wondered, for an instant, why the cowboy had not bothered to avoid his attack, having demonstrated his swiftness earlier, but as soon as he saw the glimmer from the cigarette, he understood why. By that point, however, it was too late. After the chains hit their mark and sent the cowboy flying, they immediately began to retreat to their master, but the bar was already engulfed in flames. Rather than leap off the flaming surface as soon as he felt the heat lick his feet and ankles, Singleton remained where he was, grinning through the pain, as all nine of his chains dug into the floorboards beneath him, creating a firm support. It was fortunate for him that he was wearing thick leather boots, or else the burns he suffered would have been much worse.
Holding his hat in place with his free hand, Singleton used the chains to propel himself upwards, rising into the air, back first, past the upper floor and towards the ceiling. With a crash and a shower of splinters, the captain burst through the ceiling, still rising up, until he stood upon the roof, a newly-made hole right beside him. Taking a second to stomp out the flames that still lingered on his boots, Singleton listened for any sounds of footsteps or movement beneath him, and, before too long, identified the location of the cowboy. Not wasting any more time, Singleton ran to the edge of the roof, and sent his chains racing towards the cowboy's direction, intending to get another good hit in.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 21, 2014 3:23:09 GMT -5
He didn't reach one of the upstairs windows before he saw the pirate looming over. He didn't have to wait around for what that meant, and so simply let go of the side of the buildings and let gravity do its work. As he fell, he drew a pair of pistols and fired both in rapid succession upwards at the captain. As fast as he was, he probably managed about eight shots before he landed on some barrels and smashed through.
The impact was pretty strong though, and assuming the captain had some way of avoiding the shots, then he would be able to land a solid chain hit without question.
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Post by Kyubey on May 22, 2014 2:01:53 GMT -5
The chains that had been sent out to strike the cowboy shifted in their trajectory once Singleton had seen the pistols, to block the oncoming barrage of bullets. As his weapons moved, the captain also took a step backwards, removing himself slightly from the ledge. Even with those efforts, there was still a lot to avoid, and the pirate could only move so fast. As such, at least one bullet found its mark, grazing his leg before lodging itself in his right forearm.
"Finally decided to fight me, eh..."
Even after taking a hit, the pirate's frenzied grin did not fade. The chains, having guarded against the shots, continued to chase after the cowboy. As they drew nearer to their mark, the chains began to shift directions again. Two of them kept racing towards the cowboy, coming together to form one powerful strike, but the others spread out to close off the areas immediately surrounding the target. It seemed that Singleton's intention was not just to hurt the cowboy, but to pin him down, and prevent any further escapes.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 22, 2014 11:11:59 GMT -5
This wasn't good, it seemed shooting at least in this situation didn't work. With the onset chains coming for him then, the cowboy resorted to a gamble on how the pirate might react. Still on the ground from the fall, he reached into his duster, and drew forth a lit bundle of dynamite. With an errant swing he chucked it through the hole in the wall of the saloon he had been knocked out of, and braced himself, not only for the coming explosion but also the chains attack which he expected and knew would hurt.
The gamble was of course, if the pirates actually understood what the dynamite was. If they did, then hopefully they would vacate the building before anything untoward happened, and the captain would find his position on the roof untenable. If they were not familiar with the explosives however, then things could get very interesting very quickly.
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Post by Kyubey on May 25, 2014 4:53:36 GMT -5
The chunk of dynamite landed amongst the group of pirates, who had remained in the bar, under the Captain's orders to not interfere in the fight. Having had nothing to do until that point, they had been merely sitting around drinking their whiskey, so when the dynamite flew in, they all gathered around with interest.
"Oy," said Vincent, crouching down to look at the object more carefully, "What's this? Isn't it..."
"It's an explosive," said the pale figure, who had not moved an inch from his seat. He calmly placed down his drink, and began to walk away. "It might be wise to vacate this area."
It did not take long for the pirates to heed his advice. With a great clattering of chairs (and many drinks being hastily finished) a group of mostly grown men had started to race from the bar at an alarmingly quick pace.
"What?" said the boy, a bit slower to react than the rest. "What's all the..."
"C'mon Harry," the big man grunted, lifting the boy up by the collar. "No time to talk."
As the big man and Harry burst through the tavern, there was no one left as the dynamite detonated, knocking the two off their feet and sending them sprawling.
---
Singleton noticed the cowboy throw something into the tavern, but couldn't quite make out what it was from two stories upwards, and continued lashing at Doc with the chains. Whatever the thing was, as his logic was concerned, could be confronted later.
He had a much different way of thinking, however, when the explosive went off. The roof beneath him started to drop, and the pirate got a sickening sensation of falling, along with the deafening sound in his ears. As he tumbled to the ground below quite suddenly, the chain's ceased their assault momentarily, and shot upwards, to the top of the building next door. The chains dug into the side of the structure, stopping Singleton's fall. He was safe from injury for the moment. However, now he was left in a most unfortunate position, hanging from the side of a building, open to any attacks.
---
"Ugh..." groaned one of the pirates, picking up his glasses off the dusty ground and beginning to clean them up. "Is everyone alright?"
"Aye, just fine," said Vincent, as he hoisted up his axe.
"I think... I'll be.. alright," said the heavyset pirate, who was on his stomach, trying to push himself off. Being the closest to the explosion when it happened, it had taken much more of a toll on him than it did the others.
"With the exception of Mr. Stevenson, who must recover, it appears we are all in adequate condition. Now, let's go, we've an enemy to face."
"Wait, Benjamin," the bespectacled man protested. "The Captain ordered us to stay out of his fight! Shouldn't we honor that?"
"Aye, he did say that," said the man in the black jacket, already drawing his sword. "But now we've been attacked ourselves."
"Cap'n can't say nothin' 'bout us fightin' now," Vincent sneered. "Let's teach the bastard why that was a bad move."
The bespectacled pirate sighed, and shook his head. "I can't argue, can I?"
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Post by Shark a' Pult on May 27, 2014 15:35:03 GMT -5
Now that the chain assault had relented, the cowboy had a chance to make an attack. He had taken quite the beating, so jumping to his feet wasn't a possibility. Instead he merely rolled onto his back, and pulled from his duster a rifle. As dazed as he was from the attack, he could still make a shot with deadly precision, the most basic skill he had.
That said, he didn't just drop the captain, assumedly a shot to the head would do it. Instead, he aimed right for the hand grasping the mass of chains at their source. If he could cripple the enemy in this way, perhaps he would be afforded at least a temporary respite from being lashed to a pulp.
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