1. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

    Joined:
    Apr 16, 2012
    Messages:
    947
    Likes Received:
    219
    Location:
    Hampshire, UK

    Dark West

    Discussion in 'Role Play' started by Fan7asticMrFox, Jun 5, 2017.

    Dark West

    ***​

    The Wanderer is coming. Darkness consumes him and where he treads only death follows. His final destination? Nobody knows, only that he travels west. Some have foretold that he will meet his end there, and so will the rest of the Andros.

    [​IMG]
    He travels west.

    Across landscapes of dusty Badlands, fiery salt plains, watery archipelagos and rocky mountains, he pushes on relentless and determined, gunning down anyone with the grit to stand in his way. Anyone he doesn’t kill gets mopped up by the shadow of evil that follows in his wake.

    He travels west.

    ***​


    Location

    Welcome to Dark West, a Fantasy Western RP set in on the fictional world of Andros . Within Andros are four main continents each closely linked to the four elements of Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Most folk live in relative harmony and some have migrated within each of these promising, developing lands. Andros is a great world of opportunity, be it in mining myrium, farming Jazaraks, robbing banks or catching bad guys.

    The first setting for this epic tale is a sleepy little mining town known as The Crossroads, deep within the heart of the Whistle Pillar Canyons. Not yet tainted by the walk of the Wanderer, The Crossroads is a traditional western town, formed on two main roads that meet and held within a deep canyon. There is a saloon, a small library, an elementalist church (where the Ways of the Wind are predominantly preached), a blacksmith and stables among other things. Furthermore there is a mine nearby that is carved into the canyon wall, where many of The Crossroads citizens work and help to mine myrium ore.


    Races

    Note: All of these locations and races will have differing cultures, however the Western/Cowboy theme is prevalent throughout all and should be maintained with any lore you create.

    Only humans reside within Andros. However they are all very different, depending on their heritage and where they have come from. Each of the elements has had a defining impact on their associated lands and the people:

    Whistlers – Whistle Pillar Canyons

    The Whistle Pillar Canyons were once part of the vast ocean on the Eastern coast that over thousands of years became a grand lake, which over thousands more years became a Canyon. Though the water created the Canyons, it was the air that eroded it, moulded it into it’s own design. Now sparse winding rivers run through the landscape, which help to add a small amount of vegetation to the area, but Canyon’s most striking features are the hundreds of massive rock pillars throughout, some of them almost a mile high.

    Those who originate in the Whistle Pillar Canyons are known as Whistlers; fair skinned folk with dark hair and average build.

    Whistlers have experienced a period of prosperity and opportunity, putting up many little towns all over the Canyons, with some spots ideal for farming and others for mining. Commercially they use airships big and small to deliver goods between continents, but most everyday civilians travel by horse. They enjoy a fast pace of life, but it has more grace and elegance to it than the Firebrands’ equivalent. Whistlers are usually amicable folk who don’t hold grudges, but they are not known for their loyalty and hide their emotions well. Though of course there are many exceptions to these stereotypes.

    [​IMG]

    Firebrands – The Makazi Desert

    The Makazi Desert is found within the middle of the continent of Andros, a huge span of scorched earth where the sun’s beams are most powerful. It is filled with miles of sand dunes to get lost in and cracked salt plains which haven’t seen a drop of water in years.

    Those with origins in this harsh environment are known as Firebrands and tend to have tanned or dark complexions, light/fair hair and be quite skinny due to the heat.

    Though other civilisations would consider it difficult terrain to live in, Firebrands relish the burning sun and long days, erecting great towns and cities of sturdy sandstone that stand the test of time. They tend to be a fast and frantic people, love to chatter and trade, and wear their emotions on their sleeve. Though of course there are many exceptions to these stereotypes.

    [​IMG]
    Surfers – Teardrop Archipelagos

    The Teardrop Archipelagos connects Craggy Peak to the Makazi Desert. A huge expanse of luscious islands dotted about in a gorgeous sea of aquamarine, which is sometimes shallow enough to allow passage between isles.

    There are many port towns found in plain sight on flat islands or hidden within secluded bays, which are traversed to by either walking or on small wooden dinghies. Large boats are rare to find amongst the archipelagos as the seabed is generally quite shallow everywhere. Instead big deliveries and transport of large groups of people rely on the airships services the Whistlers provide.

    Surfers are tall and athletic people with tanned or dark complexions and dark hair. They tend to be fairly relaxed with a playful and fun persona and are known to be gentle, patient and serene. However if this patience is tested and their long fuse is set off, prepare yourself for a ferocious temper. Though of course there are many exceptions to these stereotypes.

    [​IMG]
    Earthbreakers – Craggy Peak

    Craggy Peak is found furthest west. It is a place of immense beauty with a variety of landscapes: rocky ranges; waterfalls; bubbling rivers and serene lakes; rolling expanses of pine forests and of course the Craggy Peak itself, a thunderously large mountain which is visible almost anywhere within the continent. Inside Craggy Peak the Earthbreakers have carved out one of the largest domains of humanity ever seen, known as Hammer.

    Earthbreakers are a shorter folk of pale complexion, and are very stout and stocky. They tend to have very dark hair and are renowned for their hairy beards, which they sometimes braid. Earthbreakers are gifted with an incredible perseverance and endurance, and are good companion to have at your side as they are fiercely loyal. They tend to have very little emotion to anything (not to be confused with Whistlers and their decision to hide emotions) and can be difficulty stubborn. Though of course there are many exceptions to these stereotypes.

    [​IMG]

    Character

    Your character will be a civilian living within the sleepy little town of The Crossroads, either leading an ordinary life with a honest job, or skulking as a small time outlaw giving the local sheriff something to think about. Or perhaps something else entirely (that will be approved by the GM).

    Behind this background your character will either be a skilled gunslinger, through years of training, or blessed with gifts associated with their element of origin. These folk are rarer but still very much accepted, focused on phoning their gifts throughout their life instead of training with pistols or rifles. They are known as Earthslingers, Waterslingers, Airslingers or Fireslingers, depending on which element they use.

    Note: You can only be one of the five Slingers (Gunslinger, Earthslinger, Waterslinger, Airslinger, Fireslinger). I will not accept any form of duality on this.

    Please keep in mind however that all characters should be balanced, whether that means having a weakness or a character flaw. I always implore players to write their best in my RPs, and that means realising a character with struggles and flaws is far, far more interesting than a character who can defeat anything. Also remember your character is not you, but an entity you created - so don't be afraid to let them loose or be one upped by another player's character. It builds character, adds tension, creates relationships and is just so much better!

    Character Sheet – One Character per Player

    Name:

    Age:

    Gender:

    Appearance:

    Personality:

    History:

    Slinger Type:

    Must be approved by GM. Please PM me!


    The Rules

    Keep the flow: Posts can be as long and short as you would like, but making sure it keeps the flow, doesn't repeat another player or recap the same scene from another perspective. Try and progress the scene. If the scene is not progressable (which can happen) feel free to make conversation with someone, write your character's thoughts or post in the discussion thread that you are stuck.

    Minor NPC Battles: minor NPCs won't necessarily require GM input for a player to interact with and beat up etc. You get to write the scene how you feel it would play out realistically and I will moderate.

    No God Moding: This is one of the cardinal sins of role playing. If you find yourself writing a post where your character does, alone, what would/should take an entire group of people, you're probably God modding (i.e activating god mode, granting yourself invincibility, power level 9000+, and utterly ruining everyone else's day). DONT DO IT. Collaborate, team up, and tackle the issue as a group. Keep limits in mind. In short keep it real (FYI, this doesn't only apply to battles. Characters who are good at everything and are just "too cool for the rest of us" are pretty much God Moding and also SUPER BORING. Do you want to be super boring? Nope, didn't think so).

    Realism Rules: I love epic moments of dashing heroism (don't we all), but not when it happens constantly. Realism is key in my games; characters are flawed, characters make mistakes that put things in jeopardy and villains and enemies are hard and scary. Make sure your characters are reacting to the situation as THEY know it, and not the extra information that you may know as the player. That's called meta gaming and it ruins the fun. For example if another character has thought to himself in a post that your character is a "smelly poo poo head", your character should not react! Not even a little bit! He has no idea. And he shouldn't hold a grudge either unless there is reason behind it, because your character has no idea the other character thinks they are a "smelly poo poo head"!

    Read Each Post: Read the whole post folks, people have taken time and effort to write their character's thoughts, actions, wants and desires, as well as how they perceive the world. It is interesting and fun. If something doesn't make sense, ask the poster in discussion chat what they meant. Nothing derails a game faster than confused and muddled posting. If someone is repeatedly posting long winded and waffling posts, politely let them know and give some constructive criticism.

    Work Together: Okay so this isn't exactly a rule, more like "guidelines". Not everything has to be done with multiple characters, but the game is more fun when more are involved. Collaboration is always great! For example don't have your character heal someone if you know there is a medic in the group. Pay attention to other characters strengths and weaknesses and seek opportunities to take advantage of them.

    Please Respect the Tone of the Game: There's nothing wrong with humour or the occasional non-sequitur (and there will be plenty of time for that) but ignoring or laughing off every threat we face destroys tension and makes the plot look like a joke. Please write realistically, and importantly, in character.

    Don't Control Someone Else's Character Without Permission: No one knows a character better than the person writing them. Don't assume someone else's character will laugh at your character's jokes or grimace at your filthy comments; Let the writer write their comments themselves. There are times when the GM may briefly control all characters to help move the story along, but that's because he's the GM and he's awesomer than you.

    Language: I'm all for using language, just make sure it's warranted. No need to swear for swearing sake. Don't fucking abuse it!

    The GMs Word is Law: Period. I will be the decision maker on disagreements, and I will be fair and just when required.

    [​IMG]

    ** Welcome to Dark West! **
     
    Last edited: Jun 5, 2017
    Jocelyn Rouselle likes this.
  2. Kingtype

    Kingtype Banned Contributor

    Joined:
    Sep 12, 2012
    Messages:
    9,010
    Likes Received:
    1,108
    Location:
    Right under your nose!
    APPROOOOOOVED!
     
  3. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

    Joined:
    Apr 16, 2012
    Messages:
    947
    Likes Received:
    219
    Location:
    Hampshire, UK
    Prologue

    Storms'a coming. Donald watched it on the horizon through the black of night, seeing distant lightning spark across a tormented sky and nothing else. It was so dark tonight that even with the lantern hanging on the porch, he couldn't make out the horse pen a couple hundred yards away. Hot too. Donald sat in his long johns (now a faded yellow through all the sweat and barely any cleaning), the top half rolled down and tied around the waist to his reveal his bony arms and skin tight torso, with a shallow stomach and ribs you could play music off.

    Mary had made lemonade. The tall glass rested neatly next to his rocking chair on a crate, fizzing and bubbling with delight in the lantern glow. She was a good egg, he thought to himself as he took a refreshing sip and then placed it back down on the crate, back down next his colt .45. After Ma had died she'd got stuck right in, helping with the cooking and farming and ranching, breaking horses three times her size. Even if she got knocked down, she'd get back up with a mark on her face and a determined look in her eye. And only nine too. He took another sip.

    Lightning broke out in the distance again. What little use this old fart had been, when sweet Ma died. Mary mourned but like her mother she was strong and carried on. Donald on the other hand had become a broken man, barely eating, never sleeping. He wouldn't dare to either, frightened to bring back the nightmares he'd been having. Sandra's beautiful face writhing in dirt and slowly eroding, worms crawling through her decomposing skin as she screamed silently. The heat had made his head cloudy and he was thinking about it again, he rubbed his temples and shook the thought away. He'd had other nightmares too: visions of red eyed horses had stopped him ranching; stalking shadows left him unable to scare away hyenas from his chicken coops in the night; a storm of blood caused his body to stiffen each time it rained.

    The lightning struck again. He gasped and whimpered, sitting back as far as he could in his rocking chair and holding the arms with vice like grip. That pattern... the lightning that scorched the sky, it spoke to him. A single strike that had split out into six, similar to a rake with extra spokes. Such a rare sight, that few would have ever seen it before. But Donald had - in his nightmares.

    The figure stood in front, just off the porch. Barely visible, save for the glint of his holstered pistols in the lantern light.

    "Y-You've come." Donald hardly even breathed the words, but the figure tipped his hat in acknowledgement. Silence fell and the wind stopped dead. Donald wanted to scream, wanted to run and duck and hide for cover, but his body wouldn't move. The fear suspended him, just like it had with the ranching or patrolling the coops. He knew the conversation they were about to have. And like the pastor saying pray for the Ways of the Wind, he read it word for word.

    "Where ya headed?" He asked. He eyed the colt on the crate.

    "West." The figure replied, his voice like sandpaper.

    "What's there?"

    The figure didn't answer, but Donald knew. He locked eyes with his pistol once more.

    "You'll want to stop by The Crossroads on your way through. They'll have what you want there."

    "Thanks." The figure said dryly.

    The talking stopped. Donald had control over himself once more and he eyed the colt for a third time, not caring for his obvious glances. The figure just stood there patient, waiting. Waiting for something. Donald knew the figure would stay rooted to the spot for an eternity if he had to, waiting for the right moment. And suddenly a strange thought popped into Donald's head, a thought he knew but felt he had to ask. A thought he both did and did not want to know the answer to.

    "W-Will you at least... at least spare her?" His voice trembled.

    "No."

    Donald reached for his colt. With a final lightning strike in the distance, the figure whipped up his gun, pulled the hammer down quick and blew Donald away.
     
    Jocelyn Rouselle likes this.
  4. Myrrdoch

    Myrrdoch Active Member

    Joined:
    May 16, 2017
    Messages:
    217
    Likes Received:
    171
    Location:
    Virginia, USA
    Gareth MacClellan sat at one of the many rough-hewn tables that dotted the floor of The Waystation Saloon. Outside, the midday sun beat down through the canyons, baking the hard-packed streets and wringing sweat from the townsfolk going about their daily business. The half-full glass of cheap whiskey in front of him trembled slightly as a distant blast from the myrium mine shook The Crossroads.

    He idly traced the grain of the wood as he stared off into space.

    Maybe I could take up mining, he thought as he raised the glass to his lips. The sip burned his lips and throat as it clawed its way down to his belly. The liquor burned almost as badly as the harsh sun burned his overly-pale skin. Mining would be good, would keep him inside. Not that sun was typically a problem in The Crossroads, but there was that period right in the middle of the day when he'd need a coat and hat to avoid a burn, no matter how hot it got. And those were hours Gareth much preferred to spend inside.

    Just over a year had crept by since he'd arrived in The Crossroads. The town was sleepy enough, far enough out of the way that he'd felt safe. For some reason he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave the Canyons. Not yet. He'd taken comfort in looking around at his fellow Whistlers going about their lives; felt like he was in some way still a part of all that.

    Gareth took another sip.

    When he'd first gotten into town, he'd thought about getting one of the pueblos carved up into the sides of the canyon, but he'd decided that a stranger showing up and spending money like that might draw attention, so he'd opted for a room at The Waystation. As days had turned into weeks, finding a permanent place to live had become less important than being near the booze. So Gareth had become something of a fixture in the saloon, posted up in the corner at his usual table in the corner and slowly sipping the day away.

    He found that when you spent slowly, people tended not to notice. He occasionally went for a ride, just to get out of town, and if the locals decided that he was out hunting bounties or robbing banks or saving Firebrand princesses, that was on them. Whatever kept them from asking too many questions. Gareth figured it was more likely that they payed him no mind at all. Most people seemed to have the mistaken belief that everyone took note of them, to one degree or another. Gareth knew that was a pile of horse shit. They only noticed you when they had something to gain, and that almost always went poorly for the one being noticed.

    Gareth worked very had to avoid notice.

    He'd spent the first couple of weeks getting used to the ebb and the flow of the town. Groups of people were a bit like the wind; they blew about in seeming chaos, but there were patterns with those that had the eyes to see. He learned how common it was for a Crossroader to buy someone else a drink, how long it took someone at the bar to strike up a conversation, how often miners spent the evening with a lady-for-hire. And then, he'd done the best he could to emulate them.

    Trying to fit in had come fairly cheaply, but he'd still run through almost all of what money he'd managed to bring with him. He was going to need a job, sooner rather than later. And if there was one thing that Gareth knew, it was that The Crossroads had no positions available for a man with his skill set.

    He'd considered sitting in on one of the card games that the miners played. He hadn't touched a card since he'd arrived in town. It hadn't been worth it. Still wasn't, not yet. But he figured that he might have to, if it came down to it. On the last day. The day where he knew he'd spend the last of his coin on whiskey. But word would get around fast, from there. And once word got around, he'd probably start to have... visitors. Visitors he'd rather avoid.

    He sighed heavily. Cards or mining. And only one of those that he was any good at. Mining myrium paid well, but it was as dangerous as marching into the Hell of Fire. and with his slender, short frame, Gareth knew that they'd end up sending him into the deepest, narrowest stretches of the mine. For someone that used to breathe the clean air of the Deep Blue, that would be worse than a prison sentence.

    Or a hanging. So it would probably be cards. If he was going to gamble, may as well go all-in.

    "'Nother drink?" Samuel, the barkeep, had a voice that rasped like snake scales sliding over sand. Too much time down in the mines, breathing in dust, had almost robbed the man of speech. The clack of the wooden peg that had replaced Samuel's right foot showed that his voice wasn't all that he'd had broken down below. For all that, he was still a fervent worshiper of Earth, and more than one feast-day had found Gareth cursing the man's quiet stoicism. Had he been a follower of Fire or Air, religious celebrations would have turned The Waystation into a riot of colors, sound and drink. As it stood, Samuel ran the place like a funeral parlor.

    Gareth fixed his warm brown eyes on the barkeep. Shrugged. He was going to run out of coin, but it wouldn't be today.

    "Sure," he said, "why not?"
     
  5. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

    Joined:
    Apr 16, 2012
    Messages:
    947
    Likes Received:
    219
    Location:
    Hampshire, UK
    The Sheriff walked along the dusty beaten path towards Torro Ranch, horse reins in one hand and rifle in the other with the barrel resting across his shoulders, staring off to the right where he could see in the distance the trundle of carts and wagons passing through The Crossroads, the milky orange curve of the canyons behind and flocks of Needlers waving across the blue sky. What a day it had already been, and the sun had barely hit noon.

    It started early over at The Waystation Saloon, in the purple twilight of the morning. Some young boys had been daring enough to climb atop the rickety balconies and peak through the windows of rooms occupied by some of the ladies-for-hire. Ryan had to admit he'd laughed a little when he got the call from Old Sam, the bleary wake up causing a little truth to slip out. Boys will be boys, he tried to explain. The bartender bless him had always been straight as an arrow and it went without saying that he did not share in the Sheriff's sense of humour. Plus there was something in Sam's voice that suggested he was a little panicked, maybe the shrill sound of a woman's scream putting the spooks in him. So Ryan pulled on his pants one leg at a time, clicked his neck a few times and checked his blonde stubble, threw on a shirt, attached his guns and donned his dirty cream cowboy hat. He walked out into the night, only to realise that he had no boots on, his white socks peppered with sand and dirt.

    He left Dasher roped up and snoring, the walk would only take a few minutes into the centre of town. Ryan dragged his feet for a while, still adjusting to the starless black night and turned into the main crossroads, now able to hear the intermittent screams of a woman. It was loud.

    The boys were hugging the window frame and blocking his view, fighting like bees over honey. The Sheriff shook his head recognising one of them from his daughter's class, over at Miss Anderson's schoolhouse. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he let out a short two tone whistle. Suddenly they were deer that had heard a twig snap, turning their heads with eyes wides, paused for a long moment. Then they bolted. Not well either. Ryan smiled, watching two lads lock eyes with him and try and escape only to run into each other. Another thought it'd be bright to make a quick getaway vaulting over the balcony, squealing in surprise when the fifteen foot drop seemed to cause him a lot of pain.

    But the Sheriff's eyes narrowed. The window was open - no smashed. The woman still screaming. He bucked closer and rested his palms on the sandalwood grips of his pistols, forming triangles with his arms. So one of the bastards had got ideas, gone a step too far. He didn't have to guess who.

    "Darian!" Ryan called out.

    Through the black of the window appear a snotty kid with black patchy stubble and buzz cut hair, sickly yellow skin that only came from being ill or chewing too much Haka, and a gaunt face that seemed to confirm the latter.

    "Aww shit, is that you Sheriff?" Darian said jovially, his mouth chewing bored like a grass eating cow. "You're missin' a hell of show in here." His hands appeared from the dark, cupping far in front of his bare chest.

    It was always Darian; a ruffian who'd lived poor all his life and made sure others never forgot it, fine to follow in the footsteps of his washed out Pa, Winds rest his soul. Never worked hard nor accepted help or charity, only keen to emulate the renegades of the world by taking what he thought was owed. Whereas most of the kids who ran with the Charger Gang were playing outlaw, hoping one day to have their face on a WANTED poster, Darian saw it as an inevitability. He wasn't especially brave or filled with grit, none too smart either, but he weren't no sheep.

    "Darian, you've had your fun and you've done it without paying, but times up." Ryan stared up with a steel in his eyes. "Out'cha come."

    "Without payin'?" Darian laughed, turning to show off a bright red mark on his cheek, "Whaduya call this den, Sheriff? Though I do lik'um fiesty! I'mma think I'll go back inside."

    Ryan had the patience of Airslinger monk, but not this early in the morning. He pulled a pistol from his holster out slow, deliberate, (grabbing Darian's skittish moth-like attention by the balls) and placed it in his palm. He looked down at it for a while, turning it over and inspecting it in his hand. "Darian come on, I'm tired. Stop bothering the nice lady with your little pea-shooter."

    There was a harmonious giggle that echoed from behind Darian and he turned with such venom, disappearing partially back into the black to give a shout, before returning with a face of anger, embarassment and tears, slamming his hands down on the window sill screaming, "Shud up! Both yous!"

    It was a moment that Ryan came to regret. Inside he was kicking himself, knowing this wouldn't have happened had it just been a little later in the day, him just a little more awake. He squirmed a little, making that face you make when the house dog shits on the carpet. "Ah damn it, Darian..." Were all Ryan said, watching the boy turn pale with horror and lift up a pair of twitching, bloody and glass ridden hands.

    The lady-for-hire started screaming again. For different reasons this time.

    After that it had been the four of them just sitting in the Saloon until sunrise: ; a tear filled Darian; Samuel with a cloth and some cheap white spirit for the cuts; Ryan with an empty tobacco tin collecting the glass; Daisy (now with bedsheet linens wrapped around her) working the bandages. It was hard not to admire Daisy's gentle spirit, not an hour before this boy had attempted to manhandle her and yet here she sat, soft voiced with a smile as she readied the bandage. "I'm sure it'll heal Hun."

    Darian sobbed out a quiet "uh-huh". Even with her being ever-so caring, the Sheriff doubted Darian would pull something like that again with her, or any of the working ladies here - at least for a while. He chuckled to himself quietly, knowing full well Darian would be up to no good soon enough, telling the Charger Gang about how he scraped with the Sheriff on the balcony and just escaped with his life.

    Daisy flashed a smile Ryan's way, even through the dried tears her face brightened with beauty. "What's so funny, Sheriff?" She coyly caressed her bare leg up between his thighs, biting her lip for but a moment, yet enough for only Ryan to notice. He tried his best not to react but his body betrayed him. She narrowed her eyes and smiled wider.

    "I'm just tired." He shot her back with a grin.

    "You seem wide awake to me." She was quick, he had to admit.

    He let out a slow breath, "Well Sheriffs have always gotta look alive, I suppose. Have to keep up with troublemakers - like this one here." He ruffled Darian's hair a little, who surprised them all with a smile, the mention of 'troublemaker' presenting them all with a soft set of whites.

    "Oh Sam," Ryan said, looking over to the bartender turning the bottle upside down on the cloth, "don't worry about the window, the County Office will cover it. Just send me the bill." The barkeep gave an understanding nod but then shot a dark look at Darian, who shrunk a foot and a half.

    "Well, I think you've all got this covered," The Sheriff said standing up, cleverly sliding his cowboy hat off the table and casually placing it in front of his hips. "I'll need to report back to the Deputy, she'll most likely be up by now. Once I've done that I'll send her your way."

    "Oh?" Daisy said, failing to hide her disappointment. "You're not coming back?"

    "Well... I might swing by a little later." He winked right at her, Samuel rolling his eyes. Darian was oblivious.

    Ryan playfully kicked a little dirt up on the track as he marched on towards Torro Ranch, still thinking about Daisy. What a morning, and that had only been sunrise!
     
    obi-sem kenobi likes this.
  6. obi-sem kenobi

    obi-sem kenobi Senior Member

    Joined:
    Dec 21, 2015
    Messages:
    325
    Likes Received:
    88
    Location:
    The Netherlands
    Leena slowly opened her eyes and lifted her body up on her right elbow. It was still dark outside and the cool night air brushed past her through the holes and crannies of the old walls of her room. She took a deep breath and pulled herself up. The weather was going to be nice today.

    After she washed her face with cold water from the basin and changed into her clothes she softly walked down the stairs, careful not to wake up the old man, and stepped into the library. Everything was pitch black, but she knew her way around. Closing her eyes, she walked through the corridors with her hand stroking gently past the different shapes and sizes of broken spines. It didn't take long for her fingers to find the familiar form of the Historical Atlas of Andros. She sat down in the creaky wooden chair behind the counter and lit up a candle.

    A warm glow covered the pages and revealed a beautifully drawn map of all four continents of Andros as it had been over a thousand years ago. The Great Lake had only just receded out of the Whistle Pillar Canyon and the wind had only just begun to smooth out the rough edges and begin working on its masterpiece. Occasional spots of blue still covered the Makazi Desert, ready to die a quiet death. The waters of an even more robust Craggy Peak were still busily cutting their way through the Teardrop Archipelagos. Turning the pages the images changed as the time lapse moulded the land into what it was today.

    Leena blew out her candle and put the book back in its place as the first rays of sunlight were pushing their way past the horizon. She opened a ledger to see what books were due today, swept the dust off the porch and watered the plants in the little vegetable garden they had out back.

    Life was not particularly hard for her. The few chores she had came easy to her and when they were done she mostly got to read all day. Not exactly the life of adventure she had hoped for when she left Jacob's Creek, but she'd come to appreciate it all the same.

    Crossroads was safe. The people were kind and there were plenty of interesting travellers coming through to keep her need for excitement satisfied. Over the years she'd carved her place in this community and people respected her for who she was.

    "Leena?! Leena! Where the devil... Ah!" As the old man came hollering down the stairs, Leena had already begun to walk his way. The moment he turned toward the door to the library he was staring right at her.
    "Great winds, I swear, one day I'm going to teach you how to make noise when you walk."
    "Good morning mr. Burton, did you sleep well?"
    "Nevermind that, why don't I smell coffee yet?"
    "Because you're usually not awake for another hour or so. Would you like me to make some now?"
    "Yes, well, how's an old man supposed to sleep with those bimbos screaming their heads off as early as bloody sunrise? Just make the coffee and go tell Sam to keep his girls quiet huh?"
    "Very well, would you like me to bring his new catalogues with me? If I'm going there anyway..."
    "Are you out of your mind? You don't come to complain bearing gifts! Besides, the moment you start bringing people their books they won't have to come out here to get them and we can't sweettalk them into getting something else as well. We might as well close shop! 'Shall I bring his new catalogue'... Stupidest thing I ever heard." The old man sat down in his usual chair to continue his mumbling until he got his coffee and with a final 'What are you waiting for, a written invitation?', Leena headed for the Waystation Saloon.

    The sun had gotten up well enough by now and everybody was going about their business. The saloon was only about a hundred feet from the library, so even the old man must have noticed the screaming had stopped by now.

    She saw the broken window and brushed past the sherrif as he walked out, too enamoured by his personal favourite among Sam's girls to notice her.

    Daisy was sitting at a table with Sam and Darian. Darian. That immediately explained the ruckus.

    "Goodmorning Sam, Daisy... Darian." The boy looked away indignantly, trying to hide he'd been crying while passing it off as a sneer.

    "Miss Rosa." Daisy got up and nodded politely. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go put on something a little more decent." If only a little. Leena thought. Daisy was a nice enough girl, but she was smart too. She knew that in a town like this it paid to play the long game, add a little good character to those charms and keep as good a name as a hooker can get.

    Leena liked that about her. And who knows? She might even get some gentle fool to marry her someday. She seemed to have a pretty good grip on the sherrif already.

    "Hey Leena, that old fart send you to c'mplain again?" Leena sat down in the chair Daisy just vacated.
    "You know how he likes to sleep until noon. And Daisy's voice really carries on this Southern wind."
    "Yeah well, he can thank this piece of work for that little show." Sam tapped Darian against the back of his head. He turned to him with fiery eyes, ready to make some backhanded remark, when he realised his face was still a mess, so he turned away with a "hmpf" instead.

    The boy needed help. Leena'd often thought of taking it upon herself to properly raise the kid, but she didn't have any experience whatsoever and already had enough of her own troubles to deal with over the years.

    "I'll be sure to let him know. Is Daisy ok?"
    "As always."
    "That's good to hear. Well, I've delivered my message so I'll be on my way again. Sorry for the trouble." She got up from her chair and prepared to leave. She never could keep up a conversation with Sam for very long.
    "Give my best to the old man." He said with a sardonic grin on his face. A grin that showed exactly how few teeth he still had left.
    "I'll do that." She said, as she watched him return to one of his regulars.

    She stepped outside and realised that the wind was turning. It didn't usually do that at noon.

    Suddenly a chill ran through her spine. A cold wind came from the east, cold and menacing. She'd been wrong before. A storm was brewing, and it wouldn't be long before it got here. Not long at all.
     
  7. JessWrite

    JessWrite Word Nerd & Proud! Contributor

    Joined:
    Aug 13, 2011
    Messages:
    4,245
    Likes Received:
    289
    Location:
    My Old Kentucky Home
    All of the boys and girls had Miss Anderson's routine down pat. The school day began at promptly nine o'clock in the morning, but they were expected to arrive before the church bell rang. When they had taken their seats inside the schoolhouse, they said the Whistler anthem and their prayers. The rest of their time was filled with subjects ranging from writing ABCs for the younger ones to arithmetic for the older ones. By mid-morning they were getting antsy for everyone's favorite part of the day: Recess.

    Ada sat on a wooden stool outside the door as she watched the children. Some ate their small lunches together, while others played a hearty game of tag. She had upped her student count to eleven this year, compared to a measly five the previous. Word spread that the children were progressing, a few even headed to the library to read on leisure.

    She always beamed at parent's compliments in town, how Randall was becoming such a bright boy and Lucy could count the cash in the register. The kind words overshadowed the complaints, how Mirabel wasn't getting proper attention and Benjamin's bad marks hadn't been fair. Ada still gave a smile in reply, bidding them an apology, that she would see to the problem. Though the problems often were the cause of their poor parenting skills, not her teaching.

    Without warning the ground shook beneath them, sending the running students on their behinds. Ada chewed her bread slowly and gazed up at the horizon to see clouds of dust and debris start to gather in the air. The mines were far enough away from their schoolhouse, but that didn't stop them from feeling the tremors on occasion. The game of tag continued as if nothing had happened. Everyone in The Crossroads seemed to be used to trembling earth, but not Ada. She couldn't imagine the work in such a place, the filth and unhealthy conditions, lack of fresh air...

    "Shut yer trap, Jeb!"

    "He ain't no coward!"

    "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

    Ada's sharp blue eyes darted to the shouts. The game had evolved into a wrestling match between the boys and in a flurry of fists, droplets of blood mixed with the dirt.

    "What's going on here?!"

    Ada was on it faster than any of them realized and they looked up at her, unblinking. "We was just playin' Miss Anderson," said Grant, the youngest of the boys. She swore he was a born liar, covering up for his brother Wyatt often as he could.

    "Move away this instant, all of you," she said, arms crossed. Wyatt quickly backed off from Jeb who had the worst of it, blood falling freely from his nose down the front of his already dirty shirt.

    "Explain to me the meaning of this." She addressed Wyatt, a boy of thirteen and replica of his rugged Pa. This wasn't the first time she'd given him a talking to and she doubt it'd be the last. She could hear his Ma's whiny retorts now. 'You have no right to talk to my son that way! You ain't responsible for him, I am!' The woman didn't know the definition of responsible. What a bad bunch, those Taylors.

    "Well?"

    All students had gathered around to witness the episode, holding their breaths. Wyatt shuffled his feet and stared at the ground, chin out. "They was sayin' I shoulda taken him on."

    Ada's eyebrows raised. "And who would that be?"

    "The Sheriff." Wyatt spat.

    Gasps abounded, most in the direction of the Sheriff's daughter. She seemed unfazed by the news, although her posse of girls whispered to her like old gossips.

    "You're lucky he let you get off easy. I'd be thankin' the Winds!" Ada let her accent slip, grabbing everyone's attention. She and Wyatt shared a knowing glance. Yes, of course she knew. Mr. & Mrs. Jones had given her the whole story at breakfast.

    "Keep this up and it won't end well. Don't you be bothering the Sheriff anymore. You understand me, Wyatt?"

    "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled. "Can I go now?"

    Ada sighed. Her words always went in one ear and out the other, a waste of breath. She knew what had to be done. "You'll stay after class with me for one hour."

    His face screwed up and curses flew. Little eyes widened at his outburst. "Miss Anderson...you...can't...do that! My Ma won't allow it! What about Jeb? He hit me!"

    "You've given him what he deserves, don't you think?" She turned away from him. "Now as for the rest of you, shoo!"

    Wyatt stomped away and the students scattered to enjoy what little recess they had left, leaving Jeb to the sidelines. The poor boy looked a mess, though that didn't hinder his handsome features. She'd seen the girls sneak a peek at him quite often. Ada knelt to his side and offered him her handkerchief.

    "Thanks, Miss Anderson." He gladly took the hanky and pinched his nose, adding a nasally, "Sorry."

    "You know you shouldn't egg him on like that."

    "I were only teasin'. Heard they ran like a coyote was at their heels. Wish I'd of been there to see it...them bein' cowards, I mean." He blushed.

    Ada bit back a smile. He was a good kid, Jeb. "Their luck is going to run out soon enough," she said, "And yours too if you aren't careful. Is it broken?"

    "Don't think so, Teach. My Ma will have a look at it later, I reckon." He handed her back the soiled hanky and they sat there for a few moments as a cool breeze blew in steadily. Ada closed her eyes and breathed it in; felt it on her skin, through her hair. To a simple man, it'd be a welcome relief from the noon day heat, but the signs were clear. A gale, growing stronger by the hour.

    "You alright, Miss Anderson?" She opened her eyes and Jeb was still there, mere inches away from her face. She gasped a little and leaned back, hand on her chest. He smiled his toothy grin. "Thought you might've drifted off to Dreamland."

    "No, I'm fine." Ada cleared her throat, embarrassed. "I think it's about time to head in, then."

    She clapped her hands and ushered the children back into the schoolhouse for their remaining lessons, casting a quick backward glance at the sky.
     
    Last edited: Jun 18, 2017
  8. Myrrdoch

    Myrrdoch Active Member

    Joined:
    May 16, 2017
    Messages:
    217
    Likes Received:
    171
    Location:
    Virginia, USA
    Gareth squinted as he sipped on a fresh snifter of rotgut. He loved it when the evening wind swept down the canyons as the temperature shifted. It reminded him of his days aloft. A better time, or at least a different one. He'd certainly had less to worry about. And now? High noon in what amounted to a mining outpost and....

    "Hunh."

    "Whassat?" Samuel grated as he scrubbed away at one of the tables closer to the bar. He'd been working on it most of the day, and Gareth was pretty sure that whatever new stain it had collected wouldn't be coming out.

    "The wind."

    "Yeah."

    "Little early, innit? I mean... it's just past noon."

    Outside, the wind was picking up. The residents of The Crossroads were more than accustomed to the nearly gale-force winds that ripped down the canyons as afternoon turned into evening, but this was something different. Gareth could feel the hair on the back of his neck start to stand on end.

    A sudden blurt of noise had him leaping out of his chair, whiskey sloshing across his table as he pawed for a gun that wasn't there. The Waystation's player piano had just started hammering out a jaunty tune. When he'd first arrived at The Crossroads, Gareth had found it odd to have something as extravagant as an elementally-powered self-playing piano in the country saloon. But once it had become apparent that Samuel was a man of deep faith and even deeper ties to the Church of the Four the piano made sense. Gareth assumed Samuel'd somehow convinced some 'Slingers to Breathe Wind into it, and then have a bit of Fire Stoked to make it sing.

    He had no idea why it had chosen now to start playing.

    "I'll admit, it's a mite bit early for a blow, but you look like Zarcxhan the Fire Below just poked ya' in the bum. Lil' jumpy today, Gareth?"

    "Feel a little off, is all. Tired, for some reason. I guess I didn't sleep well." Gareth unconsciously stroked his right hip, just below his belt.

    The old barkeep laughed. "I'm surprised you got any sleep at all, the way Daisy was carryin' on this morning."

    Gareth grunted. "Cortez come by?" The young miner drew coy glances and smiles from all of the ladies that worked at The Waystation. For good reason, according to the rumors.

    "Naw. Couple of kids, mostly Darian."

    "Little young for that sort of thing, yeah?"

    Samuel raised a battered eyebrow. "Boy laid open his hands on some glass. Be lucky if he can ever close 'em right again."

    Gareth frowned. "How'd that come about."

    "He broke Daisy's window. Wanted to sneak a peak."

    "Not exactly what I'd call effective sneaking," Gareth said dryly. Outside, the wind had increased in pitch. If this were a normal blow, the panes would be rattling soon, and the whole building would begin to sway slightly. Gareth had a feeling that this wind was anything but normal. "Sounds to me like the bastard got what he deserved."

    "Maybe a little more than he deserved. Daisy wasn't too bent out by it. She was makin' moons eyes at Ryan right afterwards."

    "Sheriff came out to settle it all down, huh? Bet he was overjoyed."

    Samuel's face cracked into a grin. "Didn't seem to mind overmuch. Then Burton had the balls to send Leena over to complain for him. About the noise. Which you completely slept through."

    Gareth sighed and frowned down at the snifter rolling ever so slightly around on the table as the wind pressure built outside. "Spilled my drink."

    "Shame, that. Another?"

    Gareth nodded and tossed Samuel another coin. "Yeah, keep 'em coming." He stared at the door for a moment. The sky was starting to darken, and the rasp of sand against the side of the building had begun. "I think I'm going to need to be drunk for this one."
     
  9. Domino355

    Domino355 Senior Member

    Joined:
    May 11, 2014
    Messages:
    754
    Likes Received:
    186
    "Crossroads, huh?" Jessie mused to himself. "And what do you know, the place has a road-cross. Blimey who'd have seen that coming?"
    "Spoken from the mouth of the man who's staying here," Tom Hartman said.
    "Looks cozy," Jessie replied. Because "far enough from the goverment but easy enough to leave" was just too long. And a giveaway.
    "It will be a shame you know," Tom said. "I'd quite gotten fond of you sitting shotgun."
    "Little Candy ain't a shotgun," Jessie replied, stroking his 49-inch long Whitworth.

    He has been travelling with Tom's company for four months now. A coach of thirty wagons, guarded with twenty armed men, mostly former soldiers, this was a relatively safe way to travel through the canyons, for those who couldn't afford the slightly more expensive airships.

    While it had been a comfortable couple of months, the group was now heading down to Westpoint City. This was the time to get off.

    He took a quick sweep of the town with his eyes. The place looked calm, the type where adventurous folk like himself usually did not stay for more than a night or two. Tom's crew weren't even planning on staying through the night.

    After a round of farewells, Jessie was back at the head of the coach, where a new man was already at the shotgun, Jared Keith. He wore his battered gray jacket and had all his possesions in his long, wooden case, including Little Candy.

    "Well, Tom," he said.
    "Farewell," the coach owner replied.
    "Are we not forgetting something?" Jessie said, his amusement hidden behind a deadpan expression.
    "Well, I don't think so."

    A golden tooth shone as Jessie flashed his smile. He whipped his jacket back, revealing his left revolver. Jared, alarmed, scrambled for his shotgun, before remembering that he had left it behind him. He turned back, then decided against it, and turned back around, staring at Jessie.

    "You are the devil, Waters," Tom muttered, as he took out a bunch of noted, tied in string, and tossed them at Jessie. He caught the stack and stuffed it in his locket.
    "May the Winds watch over you," Jessie said, and left for the little town.

    As he walked a strong wind almost knocked him off his feet. He held his jacket tight against his body, and trudged along the path towards the saloon. The winds were getting stronger, he mused. He should find himself a decent coat, he realised.

    The saloon itself was mostly empty, fitting for a midday. A man stood behind the bar, a worn looking fellow with a wooden leg. The barkeep no doubt. A young man sat at one of the tables, a cup of whiskey in his hand. That was strange, while he was pale and thin, he looked healthy enough to work. He didn't carry a weapon, so a lazy outlaw or sherrif was out of order.

    Concluding that this was probably the town drunk, Jessie went over to the bar and ordered a beer. Then he sat down at the table near the pale man, and held took out a small clay pipe, already filled with dry tobacco, from his shirt pocket.

    Something was wrong, he felt. It took him a moment to realise it, but the pocket was now empty. That bastard Jared. Cursing to himself, and then remembering the teachings of the Wind about patience and forgiving, Jessie turned to the pale man.

    "Mate, you got a matches by any chance?"
     
  10. Myrrdoch

    Myrrdoch Active Member

    Joined:
    May 16, 2017
    Messages:
    217
    Likes Received:
    171
    Location:
    Virginia, USA
    Gareth eyed the new arrival. He was short and swarthy, so not a member of the Rifle Corps. Definitely used to seeing the sun, though.

    "'Fraid not. Samuel here assuredly does. Stocks smoke, too." Gareth took a sip from his glass. "More expensive than Marzette's General Store, but better quality. Archipelago brands here."

    Could be outside talent, though. And the rifle... the man was clearly a gunhand of some sort. The question is what he was doing in The Crossroads.

    And although he wasn't by nature a spiritual man, or prone to flights of fancy, Gareth had to admit that the new arrival's timing was ominous.

    "That a Whitworth?" he asked.
     
  11. Domino355

    Domino355 Senior Member

    Joined:
    May 11, 2014
    Messages:
    754
    Likes Received:
    186
    "'Fraid not. Samuel here assuredly does. Stocks smoke, too." Gareth took a sip from his glass. "More expensive than Marzette's General Store, but better quality. Archipelago brands here."

    "Cheers," he said. He went to the bar, took a match and lit his pipe. A deep breath later and he was back at his table.

    "That a Whitworth?" he asked.

    Jessie stared at the man in surprise, then back at his case. It must have opened when he put it down, and the barrel was sticking out. He quickly closed it.

    Now more in control of his expression, Jessie looked at the pale man. So this gawky fellow knew his guns, and knew them well, to be able to tell a Whitworth by the hexagonal shape of its barrel. While him being an outlaw was still unlikely, Jessie concluded that this man must have a military background. That was both an interesting, and concerning turn of events. He would have to keep an eye on this fellow.

    "Yeah," he said, keeping his voice even. "Forrty nine inch barrel, fires a .451 bullet. Called Little Candy." He inhaled a lungful of smoke and took a sip of his drink. "You seem to know your guns, mate. Been in the military?"
     
  12. Myrrdoch

    Myrrdoch Active Member

    Joined:
    May 16, 2017
    Messages:
    217
    Likes Received:
    171
    Location:
    Virginia, USA
    "Yeah," he said, keeping his voice even. "Forrty nine inch barrel, fires a .451 bullet. Called Little Candy." He inhaled a lungful of smoke and took a sip of his drink. "You seem to know your guns, mate. Been in the military?"

    Gareth smiled; a quick, fleeting grin. "Nothing so grand. Served crew on a cargo ship for awhile, one of the 'Slingers on board carried one. Hell of a long rifle." His eyes roved the rifle. "She's beautiful. Name's Gareth, by the way. I'm the town drunk." He smiled broadly.

    "And a more noble drunk you won't find!" Samuel rasped as he scrubbed away at the blood-stained table near the bar.
     
  13. obi-sem kenobi

    obi-sem kenobi Senior Member

    Joined:
    Dec 21, 2015
    Messages:
    325
    Likes Received:
    88
    Location:
    The Netherlands
    Leena picked up her pace just a little and headed straight back to the library. She felt a stronger wind was about to hit and braced herself for the impact. It never came. She knew how air currents were supposed to work, which meant she also knew there was absolutely nothing nearby that would make the wind bend around her the way it did. Still, she had no time to ponder it now. It was unlikely that the storm would hit today, if it was that close she should have felt it earlier, but with all the damage compromising the building's integrity she wasn't at all sure the library would survive something like what was coming.

    "Back already? What did that old bastard say?" Mr. Burton didn't move from his chair but slightly adjusted his head in her general direction.
    "It was just Darian trying to become a man without paying for it. Broke one of the windows too."
    The old man threw his head backwards and let out a hearty laugh. "That old rascal! I bet that ruffled that old pirate's feathers, didn't it?"
    "He was not too happy, no. The sherrif had to come over to settle the whole thing down. The boy ended up cutting his hands pretty bad though, I doubt he'll be waking you up again any time soon."
    "Ah well, what can you do? Boys will be boys, right?"

    Why that statement justified kids doing stupid things, Leena would never know. However she had more important things to discuss.

    "Mr. Burton, how well do you think this place would hold out against a storm?"
    "That's a mighty strange thing to ask with this fine weather. Why, the winds went and told you a storm was coming?"
    "They just turned with a strong chill from the east. I don't know how long it'll take to get here, but a storm is coming. Do you think this building will hold?"
    A wry smile crossed his lips. He may be a grumpy old man, but he knew when to get serious too.

    "The library will hold fine, she's survived her fair share of storms by now. Most buildings this side of town have. I can't say the same of miss Anderson's little schoolbuilding though. That thing looks like it'll fall apart if you sneeze at it too hard. If a storm is coming, you might want to warn her too."

    Miss Anderson. If the world was ending during one of her classes she'd probably tell the Great Wind to wait until class was over. However, it was only a little past high noon, with a little luck she might still catch her during recess.

    "I'll go straight away, you'd better start barricading the windows, the winds are picking up faster than I thought and better safe than sorry."

    Half a minute later and without listening to the old man's last mumbling she was on her horse and galloping towards the school building. As she got closer she could see miss Anderson in the distance, standing just outside the school building, looking at the sky.
     
    Last edited: Jun 19, 2017
  14. Domino355

    Domino355 Senior Member

    Joined:
    May 11, 2014
    Messages:
    754
    Likes Received:
    186
    "Nothing so grand. Served crew on acargo ship for awhile, one of the 'Slingers on board carried one. Hell of a long rifle." His eyes roved the rifle. "She's beautiful. Name's Gareth, by the way. I'm the town drunk." He smiled broadly.

    "And a more noble drunk you won't find!" Samuel rasped as he scrubbed away at the blood-stained table near the bar.


    "Ye look little young to be the drunkard," Jessie said, quite amused. "Though, who'm I to judge? And she is a beauty ain't she? Should've seen her namesake," Jessie trailed off dreamily. "Ah name's Jessie, anyways."
     
  15. Myrrdoch

    Myrrdoch Active Member

    Joined:
    May 16, 2017
    Messages:
    217
    Likes Received:
    171
    Location:
    Virginia, USA
    "Ye look little young to be the drunkard," Jessie said, quite amused. "Though, who'm I to judge? And she is a beauty ain't she? Should've seen her namesake," Jessie trailed off dreamily. "Ah name's Jessie, anyways."

    "Don't let my age fool you," Gareth said with a laugh. "I'm good at what I do. Maybe even one of the greats." He turned to the barkeep. "Samuel, go ahead and put any of Jessie's drinks on me today. By way of welcome to our quaint little corner of Andros. Speaking of, what brings you to--" He stopped and cocked his head slightly. "Well if that doesn't... wind died down."

    At the bar, Samuel frowned. "Very strange." He clasped his hands together, one on top of the other, in the symbol of Earth. "Gareth, you mind keeping an eye on the place? I want to head over to the Temple."

    Gareth nodded and stood. "Sure, Sam. But do try to be quick. I get the feeling this place is going to get a little busy." As he strolled behind the bar, glass in hand, he glanced back over at Jessie. "Looks like I'll be your bartender for the foreseeable future. So, what brings you to The Crossroads?" Gareth set a fresh beer on the bartop and dropped a coin into the cash box.
     
  16. JessWrite

    JessWrite Word Nerd & Proud! Contributor

    Joined:
    Aug 13, 2011
    Messages:
    4,245
    Likes Received:
    289
    Location:
    My Old Kentucky Home
    Ada was just about to head inside when she caught sight of a blur in the distance, a person on horseback. She squinted as the person came closer into view and realized it was Leena Rosa from the library.

    Ada gave her a friendly wave. Besides her boarders the Jones', Mr. Burton and Miss Rosa had been her first real acquaintances when arriving at The Crossroads. They hit it off quite nicely and Mr. Burton had even donated a few books for her schoolhouse, promising more in the future. Good kind people they were, unlike many of the fools in town. She didn't bother with most if she could help it and made sure to stay very far away from the Saloon.

    Ada smoothed back her hair where the wind had pulled it loose and offered a smile. "Hello Miss Rosa," she called. "What brings you here today?"
     
  17. Domino355

    Domino355 Senior Member

    Joined:
    May 11, 2014
    Messages:
    754
    Likes Received:
    186
    "Don't let my age fool you," Gareth said with a laugh. "I'm good at what I do. Maybe even one of the greats." He turned to the barkeep. "Samuel, go ahead and put any of Jessie's drinks on me today. By way of welcome to our quaint little corner of Andros. Speaking of, what brings you to--" He stopped and cocked his head slightly. "Well if that doesn't... wind died down."

    At the bar, Samuel frowned. "Very strange." He clasped his hands together, one on top of the other, in the symbol of Earth. "Gareth, you mind keeping an eye on the place? I want to head over to the Temple."

    Jessie was impressed. He met his fair share of drunks in his life, but a drunk trusted by the barkeep to take over the bar!? And who offered to pay for a complete stranger's drinks?! It seemed that there was more to Gareth than what meets the eye. An honest man, Jessie wasn't sure weather he liked that quality or not.

    Gareth nodded and stood. "Sure, Sam. But do try to be quick. I get the feeling this place is going to get a little busy." As he strolled behind the bar, glass in hand, he glanced back over at Jessie. "Looks like I'll be your bartender for the foreseeable future. So, what brings you to The Crossroads?" Gareth set a fresh beer on the bartop and dropped a coin into the cash box.

    Automatically his guard went up. Jessie covered his suspicion with a friendly smile, flashing his golden tooth at the drunkard.

    "Ima traveller, ye know," he said, then stopped to take another deep breath of his pipe. "Moving from here to there, looking for an honest job, comfortable home, and lovely ladies where they can be found." He gave a little cough. "I could tell you more but my throat is dry. Could you get me a beer? As the Ways of the Water say, beer is for prattle, wine is for discussion, water is for wisdom." He was often told that he was using this passage wrong. Instead of thinking about it he took another breath of his pipe and finished his first beer.
     
  18. Myrrdoch

    Myrrdoch Active Member

    Joined:
    May 16, 2017
    Messages:
    217
    Likes Received:
    171
    Location:
    Virginia, USA
    "Ima traveller, ye know," he said, then stopped to take another deep breath of his pipe. "Moving from here to there, looking for an honest job, comfortable home, and lovely ladies where they can be found." He gave a little cough. "I could tell you more but my throat is dry. Could you get me a beer? As the Ways of the Water say, beer is for prattle, wine is for discussion, water is for wisdom." He was often told that he was using this passage wrong. Instead of thinking about it he took another breath of his pipe and finished his first beer.

    Gareth cocked an eyebrow. "You know... I don't think that passage... eh, never mind. As for the beer...." He slid the freshly poured beer invitingly across the bartop. "Here you go." He paused for a moment, stared off into the distance. "I think The Crossroads has all three of the things you're looking for. Real pleasant folk around these parts." He shook his head slightly. His eyes slowly came back into focus and settled once more on Jessie. "Anyway. You were saying?"
     
  19. obi-sem kenobi

    obi-sem kenobi Senior Member

    Joined:
    Dec 21, 2015
    Messages:
    325
    Likes Received:
    88
    Location:
    The Netherlands
    Leena stopped a few meters away from the building and gracefully slid off her horse. She'd made it. Miss Anderson gave her a smile, making prim and proper to look as good as ever and if she was annoyed by the interruption she did not show it.

    "Good afternoon Miss Anderson, sorry to bother you at this time, I promise I'll be quick." She stepped a little closer and talked a little softer to make sure the kids inside the building weren't listening in. No need to alarm them or create rumours blown out of proportion by the imagination of the young.

    "A storm is coming from the East. I felt it on the wind. I don't know when it will hit, but I'm sure it's on its way. Mr. Burton is convinced that most of the town's buildings will hold their own, but, well, we figured your school building might not be as well equipped against this sort of weather as the others."

    "I see..." Ada's voice trailed off as she looked up at the sky once more.

    "Well, it was bound to happen sooner than later." She shook her head at Leena. 'It's good enough', they said. If only they could see what schoolhouses are meant to look like. I tried to convince them, even offered my own money, but here's what we got." She waved her hand at the building beside them. "Good enough to blow away."

    Leena gave an understanding nod. "People don't always see the importance of things they do not understand. Try not to judge them to harshly. I'm sure it won't take them long to realise the difference you make here. Who knows? This storm might even be a blessing in disguise. It'll prove a pretty convincing argument I'd say." Barely visible, a small frown crossed her face. "I just hope nobody will get hurt in the process."

    "Right." Ada said as she craned her neck to peer inside the door at her students. "Is there anything we can do to prevent that? Take precautions, cancel school...did you talk to the Sheriff?"

    "I plan to go to him next, I just hoped to catch you before recess was over. As for cancelling school, although I don't doubt that some of the children would be safer in their own homes, I fear that most of the farm houses out in the country won't do much better. Perhaps we can arrange for an excursion to the church, or the library or another building that has already proved itself capable of outliving a storm. That is, of course, assuming we'll be able to tell when it's going to hit. The last time I was in a storm I knew when it was coming a day in advance, but there's something about this one that... bothers me."

    "This is quite sudden, but try not to worry." Ada smiled best she could, though she couldn't hide the slight paleness in her face. "You have a good plan at least. I'll see that the children are kept safe from the storm no matter what comes, you just take care of yourself."

    "Thank you Miss Anderson, I'm glad they have someone like you to look out for them." She gave a kind smile and was about to leave, but hesitantly turned back. "I know it's a silly question but... have you ever heard of wind bending around someone, without anything around to make it change its direction?"

    "No, I haven't heard of that before...how odd. Did this happen?"

    "That strong wind from a moment ago..." Leena looked up at the sky for a couple of seconds and then snapped out of it again. "I'm sorry, you have a class waiting for you, we can talk about it another time." She walked over to her horse and heaved herself in the saddle with a nimble leap. "Goodbye Miss Anderson, I'll let you know the moment I learn more of this storm."

    "I appreciate you coming by and please pay my respects to Mr. Burton. I promise I'll visit more once the school year is done. Have a good day!" Ada said before she turned and disappeared inside the schoolhouse.
     
  20. Domino355

    Domino355 Senior Member

    Joined:
    May 11, 2014
    Messages:
    754
    Likes Received:
    186
    Gareth cocked an eyebrow. "You know... I don't think that passage... eh, never mind. As for the beer...." He slid the freshly poured beer invitingly across the bartop. "Here you go." He paused for a moment, stared off into the distance. "I think The Crossroads has all three of the things you're looking for. Real pleasant folk around these parts." He shook his head slightly. His eyes slowly came back into focus and settled once more on Jessie. "Anyway. You were saying?"

    Jessie took the pint and took a long sip, allowing in every second of the bitter, bitter sweetness of his drink to fill his mouth. Then he took another long breath of tobbaco smoke deep into his lungs. That was all he needed in life. Give in a pretty girl and he would be in heaven already.

    "Bless you," he said. "By the Ways of- what Way do ye serve?" he paused a moment. "Well, never mind. As I was saying, Ima traveller about. Honest, hard-working man, driven by wanderlust from town to town. Usually work with Little Candy down here, protecting folk you know? Got her in the Firebrand. Was fighting them desert tribes, it's how I got this here." He showed Gareth his missing finger. "Was on guard duty in one of them camps, when a warband attacked us at nighttime. Managed to snipe down four of them, before a bullet took my finger off. Lucky, it took just the finger and not the barrel." He gave a small chuckle though his face remaing eadpan as before.

    Though he spoke freely, Jessie paid close attention to his words, giving only background details, and hopefully not dropping any hints as to his "important" background.
     
  21. Myrrdoch

    Myrrdoch Active Member

    Joined:
    May 16, 2017
    Messages:
    217
    Likes Received:
    171
    Location:
    Virginia, USA
    "Bless you," he said. "By the Ways of- what Way do ye serve?" he paused a moment.

    Gareth cocked his head and gave a little half smile.

    "Well, never mind. As I was saying, Ima traveller about. Honest, hard-working man, driven by wanderlust from town to town. Usually work with Little Candy down here, protecting folk you know? Got her in the Firebrand. Was fighting them desert tribes, it's how I got this here." He showed Gareth his missing finger. "Was on guard duty in one of them camps, when a warband attacked us at nighttime. Managed to snipe down four of them, before a bullet took my finger off. Lucky, it took just the finger and not the barrel." He gave a small chuckle though his face remaing eadpan as before.

    Though he spoke freely, Jessie paid close attention to his words, giving only background details, and hopefully not dropping any hints as to his "important" background.


    "In Makazi Desert, eh? I heard that was dirty work. Lucky you only lost a finger. Although I'll bet you gained more than you lost. They say the desert has a way of changing people. Of burning away all the fat and excess, and leaving behind someone lean and new." Gareth barked a laugh and took another small sip of his whiskey. "But what would I know about all of that nonsense? I'm just a small-town drunk." He raised his snifter in salute and winked at Jessie. "Oh, did you want anything to eat? I'm starving."
     
    Fan7asticMrFox likes this.
  22. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

    Joined:
    Apr 16, 2012
    Messages:
    947
    Likes Received:
    219
    Location:
    Hampshire, UK
    Torro Ranch came closer into view and Ryan was thankful for that. The heat was getting to him. The air had that sticky feeling, like honey stuck to your skin. Hardly any wind went by to break the sweat, though when it did it powdered through almost knocking him and Dasher over. Part of him hoped for rain, but with rain came a storm and he knew that was the last thing the Crossroads needed.

    In the fenced pen alongside, a rider strode past at lightning speed and kicked up a fog of dirt that filled Ryan's lungs. He tried to contain the cough like a kiddo taking his first smoke and shook his head a little, sporting a rye smile. The rider continued a couple hundred feet more before pulling on the reins of his charger, turning it back towards the sheriff in a light canter. The dust settled to reveal a lean tanned man straddled on a gorgeous horse, its coat as pure as snow, his shirt faded green in the sunlight and dirty from sweat and underwashing. He wore a whispy black mustache and pointy goatee, the kind that violinists wear to make the women swoon. He shot Ryan a sly grin, his gold tooth glinting in the sun.

    "Ey! You're easy to sneak up on amigo!" the rider said, leaning on the front of his saddle.

    Ryan chucked his reins on one of the fence posts, though for little reason. Dasher wouldn't go anywhere without his command. He stepped a leg up on the fence and crossed his arms up over the top beam, looking up at the rider, squinting to block out the sun.

    "That's Sheriff to you, Miguel." He said with a cheeky grin.

    Ah Miguel Torro. Surfer born and bred, nothing phased this man or at least nothing the Sheriff had ever seen. About twenty years had gone by in the Canyons since this joker had turned up, a man from the isles of water who had travelled by boat, train, airship and caravan far East to fulfill a dream. A dream to become a wrangler. When he was young, his father back in the Teardrop Archipelagos had shown him paintings of horses and told him of how majestic a creature they were; gentle yet fierce, powerful but with a rare elegance not found almost anywhere else in the world. It didn't take long for young Miguel to pursue his dream.

    Most at The Crossroads gawked at him first - not used to seeing a Surfer - then laughed at him after. 'You'd be better at wrangling sea turtles!' some asshats had shouted, but he'd been determined and a childless old rancher named Maurice had been desperate for a stablehand. The job came with no pay, just room and board - though the barn weren't exactly a room. Miguel hadn't cared. Through the long days and tireless hours, he always had a smile on his face. He'd found that something we all secretly search for. Now, twenty years on, this joker owned the place. Torro Ranch, under his family name. Broke the best horses in all of the Pillars. Ryan unconciously gave Dasher a hearty pat.

    "Little early in the day to be seeing you, my friend." Miguel said. "Quiet day, huh?" He winked. "Trouble at the saloon, I hear."

    Ryan sighed. "Like you wouldn't believe. Darian got a bit handsy with Daisy in her room." He paused for a moment, looking down at his one boot stepped up on the fence. "Then he got a bit handsy with some glass." Miguel flinched a little.

    "I mean... he's managable," Ryan continued, "but he can be a real shit sometimes. Makes me worry what he's going to be like when he-"

    "Grows some cojones?" Miguel interjected, cupping his hand a little and shaking it. "He's Jack's son - that cabron - it'll only be a matter of time before he's acting the same."

    "Let's hope it's not too soon."

    "Si." Miguel sat up on his charger. "Now, you didn't come all this way to talk about some young Ese - whatcha need?"

    The Sheriff's face grew dark. He stood away from the fence a little, both arms outstretched on the top beam like a man holding on for dear life. Ryan only ever visited when he wanted to drink, tell stories, or use the cart. Miguel counted it too early to drink (though barely) and he'd already heard the story of the town today. That left the cart.

    "I'm gonna need your cart." Ryan started. "And you."

    "Trouble?"

    "I don't know." Ryan murmured, digging a heel into the dusty canyon dirt. "Maybe. Reports are that the McKensies didn't ride out their herd today. Big Al at the water mill up North ain't see no cattle across the plains either."

    "Could be late out?" Miguel suggested.

    "Maybe? I hope so." Ryan sighed. "Donald likes to make sure they get a drink, especially in weather like this." He wiped the sweat away from the back of his neck.

    "I mean... Ryan... you don't think the cart is a bit pessimistic?" Miguel twirled his goatee. "We could just ride out toget-"

    "No." The ranch was silent. "I got a bad feeling about this."

    Miguel simpled nodded. "Sure, sure. I'll go get my Rutherford. Meet you outside the barn."


    * * *

    Cassie awoke with a start, exiting her slumber mid snore with her legs on the desk rising up and the chair resting precariously on two legs now dwindling backwards. In a panic she swung her arms forward like a double sided windmill, the inertia sadly having the wrong effect, taking her further back.

    Crash!

    She twisted into a swiss roll, clattering heavily into the iron bars of the jail behind her, the chair skittering across the stone chipped floor. Citizens of The Crossroads passing by the Sheriff's office - clad in their frilly bonets or riding slow on their horses - were treated to the finest selection of curses and swear words this side of the Andros. Most gazed over for a moment in shock, before continuing on with a mutter. One boy started imitating, which led to a swift smack around the clock tower by his mother.

    For anyone actually inside they would have seen Cassie tied up in a Makazi puzzle, limbs flailing in all directions. Luckily only Bernard was here, and the drunkard was snoozing.

    Or so she thought.

    Still in a sleepy haze, she struggled to break herself free, not realising Bernard's rather deft hands had grasped for the keys on her belt ring (made all the more impressive by his near blinding drunkenness). Cassie smelt him first before turning over to see the giant scraggy beard in front of her, breathing heavy fumes of whiskey into her face, the red pyjama suit darkened near his crotch and down his leg.

    "Wait... no!" Were all she could muster as he pinched the keys and moved on to opening the cell door. "Bernard! Now don't you dare!" She tried to shift upwards but found herself too disortiented, her entire body crumpled in the corner and leaning heavily on her head. Bernard even had time to drop the keys, knock his forehead into the iron bars in an attempt to pick them up, topple over, stand once more and pick the keys up again.

    Finally Cassie freed herself, flipping over onto her knees and just in time too, Bernard had actually managed to open the cell door. It swung open and he swayed out right into her path. She had him.

    Or again, so she thought.

    Cassie had not realised the full extent of her previous swiss roll position, nor the long sleep she had woken up from not two moments ago. In her attempt to step up towards him, her dead legs buckled completely, flopping her face first into the floor, mere inches away from Bernard's ankles. Through the pain she persisted, swiping a stretched out hand for a drunkard that had already moved, burping his way towards the door. Ryan's gonna kill me - come on you stupid legs!

    Yet there was little she could do and with horror she watched, eyes wide as Bernard staggered towards the front of the office - towards all the nice citizens enjoying their day in The Crossroads - missing the door completely and bumping into the iron barred window, toppling over onto the floor, getting back up, stumbling over to the Sheriff's desk and opening the top right drawer, pulling out a fine looking whiskey bottle and swaying back into his jail cell, bottle turned upside down and tapered to his lips. He'd even closed the cell door.

    It was at this point that Cassie's brain helpfully decided to remind her of the conversation she had had with Ryan the evening before.

    "What's the one thing we don't let Bernard have?" He'd said.

    "Whiskey." She'd responded with boredom, a little perplexed how exactly the Sheriff thought Bernard would even get out of his cell, let alone get whiskey. One thing was for sure - he would never have expected it to go like this.

    For the second time today onlookers turned in perverse curiosity towards the Sheriff's Office, listening to more delightfully colourful language from within.
     
  23. JessWrite

    JessWrite Word Nerd & Proud! Contributor

    Joined:
    Aug 13, 2011
    Messages:
    4,245
    Likes Received:
    289
    Location:
    My Old Kentucky Home
    Once she stepped inside the schoolhouse, a little hand instantly shot up in the air.

    "What is it, Lucy?" Ada said without looking, turning towards the blackboard.

    "Why was Miss Rosa here? Is she gonna bring any new books?"

    Ada gritted her teeth as she wrote a few verses of poetry on the board. Nothing escaped the girl's sight. No doubt she would become the town gossip when she grew up.

    "No, friendly conversation is all," she replied. "Miss Rosa was running some errands and wanted to say hello."

    Lucy gave a sigh and Ada glanced back to see her face downcast, rosy lips in a pout. That face had gotten what she wanted all of her nine years, but at school she was told no constantly. Lucy used to make her feel bad, but now it was just routine. She'd have a harder time if she didn't learn there was disappointment in life. Ada had plenty of experience with disappointments, the upcoming storm threatening to add itself to the list.

    The wind had whispered a storm before Miss Rosa told her so, but she still reacted as she ought to. Since arriving to town, lying had become as natural as breathing, but lying to someone like Leena was much harder to do. Remaining calm and casual was easy, but her last question had certainly surprised her. For the woman's sake it was best to be tight-lipped about the matter. Better that way.

    Still, more questions pressed upon her mind. What would become of the schoolhouse? Would they rebuild it? Would they even care?

    Could she save it? Ada quickly got rid of the thought.

    "Randall, read this first line for me."

    The boy stood from his wooden seat. "Yes, Miss Anderson." His eyes followed the printed script as he read in a solid voice:

    "I wandered lonely as a cloud
    That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
    When all at once I saw a crowd,
    A host, of golden daffodils;
    Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
    Fluttering and dancing in the breeze."

    "Very good. Beautiful isn't it?"

    "Flower-y," Randall said with disgust. "That poet ain't livin' in The Crossroads."

    Ada smiled. "Which leads me to my assignment for you older children. Write a poem about our town or your home. It can be anything you like. Watch your grammar, please. We will read them aloud next week."

    At least, she hoped. The wind carried enough bad memories, it needn't bring more.
     
  24. obi-sem kenobi

    obi-sem kenobi Senior Member

    Joined:
    Dec 21, 2015
    Messages:
    325
    Likes Received:
    88
    Location:
    The Netherlands
    Leena felt the wind blow through her hair, rushing past as Earnest galloped over the plain, back towards town. Somehow, it felt different... and not just because of the upcoming storm. She perceived the currents flowing all around her, palpable, almost touchable, dancing in those seemingly random patterns through Earnest's mains, yet not really random at all.

    The wind was picking up again. This storm was going to hit sooner than she thought. She squeezed her legs a bit tighter, loosened her rein and leaned just a bit further forward. All she could do for now was hope that the sheriff was at his office.

    It seemed to take forever, though it really took hardly any time at all before she reached the sheriff's office. From inside she could hear Cassie's ever creative way of expressing herself. She took a deep breath and carefully stepped inside.

    "Good morning Cassie, is the sheriff in today?" She regretted the question the second she asked it.

    "Damn it, Bernard!" Cassie pleaded, struggling in a tug of war with the drunkard inside his cell, both of them clutching the whiskey bottle tightly. "Give it to me!"

    "W-Whiskey." Were all he could respond with, as the deputy slowly lifted her boot to his chest, trying to leverage the bottle away with added force. There came a tipping point - both contenders red in the face, both for different reasons - until suddenly the bottle swung away from the pair, rocketing through the office like a mine cart on the loose, miraculously between the bars and into the ceiling a few feet away from Leena. Cassie gawked in horror as the glass came raining down, covering a hand over her open mouth. Yet Leena was unmoved, seemingly unaffected by the glittering dust and liquid falling sheriffs desk. Bernard on the other hand was distraught.

    "I'm sorry," Leena said, hiding her surprise with a gentle smile, "Is this a bad time? I can come back late-"

    "No, no!" Cassie blurted, caught in three minds as whether she should clean up the whiskey, lock up Bernard or address Leena. "By the Ways of the Wind, I'm hella sorry. Stay, please! Everything's fine, it's all under control." She stepped out of the jail and hastily locked up, not that the sobbing Bernard would be moving anytime soon. "So what's this about the general store? Nobody been stealing again I hope?"

    "The general store?" Leena asked, the smile still there, but her head tilting slightly. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about that. Did something happen there?"

    "I don't know, didn't you mention it just now?" Cassie said rubbing her chin, not paying a great deal of attention. The whiskey continued to drip from the ceiling boards.

    "Me? No, I just asked if the sheriff was in."

    "Ooooh." Cassie said, though still not entirely focused. "The sheriff, right? He's over at Torro Ranch. Needed help investigating the McKensie household. Folks been saying they not been seen for a while." Her mind twigged what that meant for her and she beamed at Leena, her dusty brown hair shifting around her as she bounced up and down on the heels of her boots. "Ooo, anything I can help with?"

    "If the sheriff's at Torro Ranch he probably won't be back in time to do any good..." Leena said, more to herself than to the good deputy. "Cassie, have you ever had to prepare this town for a storm before? A bad one?"

    "Fraid not," Cassie shrugged, "but I suppose there's nothing to it; get out and board some windows up and what not." A moment of pause held, Leena watching Cassie continue to rock back and forth on her heels, Cassie blissfully in her own little world, the storm seemingly forgotten. Leena was about to ask, but suddenly Cassie blurred past her to the window putting her hands on the panes, looking up with the awe and delight of a Canyon snow day.

    "Storm, huh? With this heat?" Cassie said. "I mean it's bluer than a beached whale out there."

    "Trust me, it's coming." Leena said, starting to get slightly annoyed with Cassie's lack of concentration. "It won't take long either. I reckon it'll be here tomorrow morning at the latest, though possibly already tonight and there's houses out there like the school building that won't survive if we just board some windows up. We need a plan to get everyone in the buildings we know are safe."

    "Hmph, well if you say so." Cassie face was scrunched together, not entirely sold on the verdict. "I mean, I gotta go head over to the Saloon anyway, get a report on this morning's break-in. I'll mention something to Sam while I'm there."

    "I'll meet you there, though I fear you're going to be a little late." Leena said, barely containing a smile. "It would seem Bernard has set himself on fire again."
     
    Myrrdoch and JessWrite like this.
  25. Domino355

    Domino355 Senior Member

    Joined:
    May 11, 2014
    Messages:
    754
    Likes Received:
    186
    "In Makazi Desert, eh? I heard that was dirty work. Lucky you only lost a finger. Although I'll bet you gained more than you lost. They say the desert has a way of changing people. Of burning away all the fat and excess, and leaving behind someone lean and new." Gareth barked a laugh and took another small sip of his whiskey. "But what would I know about all of that nonsense? I'm just a small-town drunk." He raised his snifter in salute and winked at Jessie. "Oh, did you want anything to eat? I'm starving."

    Jessie's stomach grumbled, as if in response. He took another sip of his beer to soothe it slightly. It was time to see if this town's food was worth the stay.

    "By The Ways of the Earth, I'm starved," he replied. "Aye drunkard, show me the wonders of this town's kitchen." He paused as another idea reached his head. "Ye know where I can find the sherrif of this place. Need to find someplace to stay, and a jod that suits me... Skills."
     
    Myrrdoch likes this.

Share This Page

  1. This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
    By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
    Dismiss Notice