#1 Edited by _Deadeye_ (5 posts) - - Show Bio

Today was different. The generally turbulent town of Rattlestone did not have that same fiery conflict and drama it usually had, on this very day it was as if the world stopped turning. Not once today did an angry housewife barge into one of the many brothels of the town, upset at her husband's covert decisions. At no point today did two men walk fifty paces apart and draw their pistols due to a small argument about slavery. In this period of time, no single rancher went on a revenge filled quest to hunt a group of rustlers who stole his livelihood. Today was the noticeable date that not a single person was injured in the underground boxing club in the town, where businessmen bet on the best saddle hands, street toughs and many more gentlemen in bare knuckle fights. Today was the first peaceful day since that ever so iconic night where the cannons fired down on Fort Sumter at least for Rattlestone.

Thousands of the townspeople had gathered in the town square to see something eventful that they hoped would turn for the better. Two men, Tom and Ren Bollard brothers from Missouri had been captured by the local sheriff and his skeleton crew of men in the middle of a daring attempt at setting fire to a store that didn't pay protection money, Marshall Eric Leigh ambushed them, Winchester in hand as he killed two lackeys and winged Ren. He forced a capture upon them, and finally the seventy murders (mostly motivated by xenophobia and mutant hatred), ten train robberies, five shop robberies, two cases of arson, thirty different businesses extorted, an ambush on a local silver mine and enough mistreatment of the townspeople to cause serious emotional scars. It all culminated today as ropes were wrapped around the men's neck and Tom opened his mouth, his scraggly and chipped teeth moving for just a second to allow a long cough of Phlegm, followed by a giggle by Ren.

The Hangman said to the twins "Any last words, boys?" To which Ren said, laughter escaping his mouth, that sadistic smile so many unfortunate men and women had seen before they died "Go f*ck yerself, y'damn c*nt."

The crowd erupted into boos and threats, to which Tom cackled, addressing them "Hey! ya'll er' the ones taking joy in seeing two men die for christ sakes! Who's the real bastard?" He said

Fumbling and fussing occurred much to the anger of one Drake Murdoch, a lone bounty hunter and marksman who had been waging a one man war, of which him and the two had come into conflict. The Dead Eye killer shouted for a moment "I ain't afraid to say that you both deserve to die in public."

"Oh Shut Up!" said both the twins in unison, more of the crowd getting anger before the executioner yelled "Enough! Let's get this over with!" He said, his hand halfway cranking the lever before...

*BAM!* Blood seeped out of the hangman's hand as it was torn, a bullet whizzed through it and caused him to curse, before one more bullet was fired.

*ZZIP!* it sounded, the pistol sized shot was aimed just perfectly to cut through the ropes the twins hung on freeing them. Marshall Eric was present, and immediately pulled out his pistol as amongst the panic he spotted the gun man. A duster coat wearing guardian angel to the Bollards appeared, his Navy Revolver with the barrel smoking heavily. Marshall Eric couldn't make the shot, the shooter purposely burying himself with innocents in order to keep from a hasty move. This was not something the Dead Eye killer could stop, drawing his Custom Scholfield Revolver (Which contained nine pistol shots and one shotgun round), and rushed through the crowd, a shot firing into the shoulder of the man.

He let out an exclamation before pulling out a whistle, three horses soon galloping to the stage just in time for the Bollards to jump on, Marshal Eric Leigh firing a shot at them and missing at the same time Murdoch fired another round, instantly killing the duster coat assailant. This didn't stop the two twins as they ran off on their horses from shouting "Better luck next time, Old man!" Frustration filled the two somewhat do gooders as they shouted. The dust finally clearing.

The question that ran through the minds of every single person inside of that town was all in unison, almost a beaconing question?

What now?

#2 Edited by Cassius_Knightfall (7404 posts) - - Show Bio

The silence shattered by the bark of his prized colt revolver turning his back the Kid returned to his meal.

4 months ago

The desert wind kicks up small dust clouds around the base of an old scared tree. A man standing on a freshly cut log braced by two burly men, facing a jury of his peers.

“James Mad Dog Dugan, you have here by found guilty of crimes most heinous. Deeds so sickeningly depraved your deviant ways will forever stain the memory of this beloved town of Silver springs. Crime’s that no civil tongue will even mutter the likes of again. Your punishment not near enough for you life’s misdeeds, It has here by been decided you shall be hung from the neck you body to never see the comfort of a Christian burial. Any last words before we carry out the sentence?”

Under the burlap sack a cackle seeps through its seems the sound sending ice like shivers down the women folk and rush of hot blood to those he had wronged “ You have not seen the last of the likes of me, my blood will avenge me. Your town will burn and...” CLUNK a sudden silence followed by the eerie creek of rope swinging in the gentle breeze.

The townsfolk walk aware sure that justice has been served, one lone figure on the horizon put his father’s rifle back across his shoulder, the last he saw of the man through his own crosshair.

Present day 10 minutes ago

“Whiskey and bread” his voice surprising deep for his stature sitting down at the bar his riffle tapping the seat as he place himself on the stool. “We don’t allow unchecked weapons in this here establishment” a voice boomed from the shabby swing doors. Pawing a hand full of bread and shovelling it into his mouth he the rifleman remained perfectly still. A tap on his shoulder and still nothing , his clothes suddenly pinching as he span around under the grip of this man “Maybe you didn’t hear me boy, so this time i will say it loudly WE DONT ALLOW UNCHECKED WEAPONS, NOW HAND OVR YOUR IRONS”

Smiling at the man the young gunman spoke “Certainly sir, here you go spinning his riffle from his shoulder and handing it to the man. It’s a Winchester rifle I believe your deputy has one very similar to it, wasn't he the guy who arrested Mad Dog Dugan?” The tin star on his chest catching the light as he turned the name of the deputy sitting pretty on the breast pocket of his jacket “Oh pardon me sir, i get my tense’s mixed up. He had one, that exact one if i remember correctly.” A flash of polished metal from his sleeve BANG the towering presence of the bellowing man crumpled to the ground “Nobody calls me boy, I’m the kid Kid Dugan also known as the pup. You killed my pop and now i killed you” the coughing and spluttering of the blood filled throat of the sheriff muted by the second shot. "Dammit got my tense's mixed up again"

#3 Posted by Leon_Dissada (4389 posts) - - Show Bio

Leon walks into the old town looking slowly around at everyone and enters in the saloon and orders a bottle of whisky and drinks it not speaking to anybody in the place. He just listens to the convos

#4 Posted by Kristoff_Wraithborn (10 posts) - - Show Bio

The shadows of a low dipping bill cascaded across the strangers face as he slowly road into town, head slumped, purposely avoiding eye contact. Not from fear, but apathy. Commotion from the daring mid-day escape still in full effect but the former confederate rebel showed no signs of carrying subtly weaving from side to side atop his trusted steed. Pausing outside the local saloon before dismounted and pushing open the wooden sing doors while removing his dusty gloves. "Whiskey." his gravel hardened voice demanded. Grabbing the bartenders arm as he finished pouring a shot. "Leave the bottle."

#5 Edited by _Deadeye_ (5 posts) - - Show Bio

@kristoff_wraithborn:

Drake took very close note as a lone man walked into the Saloon, his hat almost tipped down to mask his face, perhaps mask something deeper, perhaps mask his emotions. The black wearing bushwhacker had his feet crossed over and elevated on his table, a glass of rather cheap Irish whiskey touch his worn and beaten lips, eyes still keeping on the man. The stranger had an air about him, the way he strode into the bar, threw his gloves down without care, hostilities given to the barkeep, hell, even his his raspy breaths all added up to have him radiate apathy and a bit of either frustration or anger. Who could blame him though? Civil War, Crimes, Slavery, Mutant Hared, Catholics...All these things added up on both him, and the shoulders of this once young and ambitious nation. Those types of things get to a person, and it was obvious the outsider wasn't new to hardships. This in mind, Drake's voice stood out from the drunken ramblings and discussions of the bar, putting his drink down as he said "I haven't seen a face like yers around lately...Y'new here, stranger?"

#6 Edited by Nerx (15088 posts) - - Show Bio

Thomas Avery had scalped yet another redskin, his pals are there with him as the exterminated a native settlement off the area of Rattlestone. Sons of b!tches took his sister, lest the Sparrow clan did. Yet his hatred spreads to every one of them, their culture, their way of life and their kin.He vows to wipe them off the face of america, and to eat their hearts as revenge for his beloved sibling. It started after a bank robbery gig that went successful, he had bought her the dress that she had always wanted for her marriage. When he got home. Only bones were left, to say the least he marched to the closest area with a hatchet and started killing with fury. His murderous rampage ended when all the members are slain, down to the last dying child. Where he ripped off the heart of the chef. Then ate it. Blood. His infernal hatred propagated. Wearing a face of Iron as he embarks on yet another roaring rampage. He did not even know what caused his sister's death.

#7 Posted by Kristoff_Wraithborn (10 posts) - - Show Bio

@_deadeye_: Head tilted back lips wrapped around the partially clean shot glass as the soothing bite of cheap whiskey burned down his throat, the eldest and only surviving member of the Warithborns, glanced over towards the stranger. The red bandanna wrapped around his neck slightly inching down allowing anyone who was paying close enough attention to catch a glimpse of the unmistakable rope burns caused by a botched hanging. With squinted eyes he subtly observed the questioning desperado instantly recognizing the posture of a proficient gunmen who's lightning quick reflexes had just been put on display for the entire town to witness. Several of which standing in the doorway pointing and whispering as they retold the stunning tale. Slightly letting a chuckle escape, Kristoff replied while maintaining a straight forward gaze, "Looks like you have some fans." using his forearm to gently slide the bottled whiskey in front of Drake. "Jus lookin for a quite nights rest mistah." sticking a thin hand rolled cigar in his mouth before rising up off his stool in order to strike a match off the barkeeps cheek.

#8 Posted by Pyrogram (35143 posts) - - Show Bio

@nerx:

Mister Mick Minnigan had just finished getting drunk for the...9...10th..time this week, he stumbled around as he had no care in the world for anything, His power was insane durability and strength, not that much use when people could just shoot you...He stumbled upon a man killing a bunch of unfortunate humans...He coughs a little wiskey as he had just taken a gulp as he speaks to the man, half falling over "Eh..well...Do..they taste guuud?" He dizzied around as he spoke to the murderer.

#9 Posted by Nerx (15088 posts) - - Show Bio

@pyrogram:

The rattlesnakes had finished killing yet another settlement of indians, yet Avery is no racist as he had members who are also negroes and those whom are slant orientals. Egalitarian he is, yet he cannot tolerate the existence of native americans. They disgust him at a fundamental level, sympathizers and race betrayers are also corpses in his eyes. His buntline special had claimed a large number of lives. "It felt bad, what I do is not good"

#10 Posted by Pyrogram (35143 posts) - - Show Bio

@nerx: "Felt bad ehh...Why do it then...." He walked to the man and patted him on the shoulder nearly falling over "Wana driinnkk?" He gave him his dirty whisky bottle.

#11 Posted by Nerx (15088 posts) - - Show Bio

@pyrogram: 'Not today, work to do got to free them negroes from slavers. Recruit able bodied men for my group"

#12 Edited by Pyrogram (35143 posts) - - Show Bio

@nerx: "Well..I can help y'know..." He coughed.

#13 Posted by _Deadeye_ (5 posts) - - Show Bio

@kristoff_wraithborn: "Eh better sleep with one eye open...And a gun under the pillow" Drake said, rising to his feet, his heavy boots and spurs clanking down upon the creaky floor. He looked over and nodded to his own little fan club, he was a bit of a figure around here. Some days the morally ambigous Gunslinger would fight for good, others he was malevolent, But Murdoch thought all his actions were justifiable. "You'll need it to, seems the whole world's gon' mad...Not to say it was sane to begin with." He finally sat, extending his callused and cut hand for a moment "Murdoch...Drake Murdoch"

#14 Posted by Apathy_ (254 posts) - - Show Bio

Just outside Rattlestone - 2:04 am

The carriage bumped across the dusty road, hauled by two trusty steeds and four armed sitting on the front. The night covered everything in a blanket of darkness, the lantern hanging from the carriage fought to overpower the overwhelming darkness. The carriage came to a halt the atmosphere was completely silent, there wasn't even a breath of wind - it was certainly eerie. The men were uneasy about something, they didn't want to be stopped for long, they just had to check to make sure their precious cargo was still properly tied down.

Very few words were muttered, they bustled about the carriage, adjusting straps and checking the load. Just as they were about to mount the carriage once more a horrific scream pierced the never-ending darkness. Three of the men stood at the front of the carriage, they stopped, eyes wide and looking frantically in all directions. Their hearts were beating out of their chests, a deaf man could head it pounding. One of them spoke, "John, go check around the back." His voice was quivering and weak; all men cocked their lever action rifles as John rounded the back of the carriage.

John wandered around the back and nearly jumped out of his skin when the fourth man was just standing there. "Lord Jesus man, you scared the life out of me. Get on the carriage, we need to get out of here...you've heard about what has been stalking these area's at night and we're almost to town."


The fourth man just stood there, tilted his head to the side and sadistic grin cracked across his shadowy face, revealing sharp, animal-like teeth. John opened his mouth to scream out to his colleagues but no words came out; the fourth man was on him like a lighting bolt, cracking John's neck.

One of the men at the front shouted out, "John, what's goin' on back there?" As the sentence ended, John appeared to the front of the carriage, or at least, it looked like John. The same man spoke again, "Find anything or not? Did you see Samuel?" There was no response, something was wrong - very, very wrong.

The John imposter threw his hat to the ground, a black ooze-like substance began to run out of his pores and creep across his skin as if it were alive and soon he was totally covered in the substance. His eyes glowed a creepy green and the same sadistic, animalistic smile cracked across his face.

One of the men raised his rifle, but the shapeshifter was to fast. He let a lion-like roar out from him as he lept at the man with the rifle, his hand forming elongated, sharp fingers like a giant claw. The man was cut clean in half as the shapeshifter connected with his attack; he turned, narrowing his green eyes at the last man as the dead body dropped.

The last man was so afraid he couldn't even manage to raise his rifle, but whimpered like a scolded dog. The clawed hand retracted back in to the shape of a normal hand and the black, mysterious figure spoke, "Run off and tell everybody that this road will not be passed by any of you human kind any more. I suggest you run face before I change my mind." The voice was skin crawling, and instantly made the last remaining man burst off towards the town in a hard sprint.

#15 Posted by Nerx (15088 posts) - - Show Bio

@pyrogram: "Lets kill more injuns then, say you got something stronger?"

#16 Edited by Kristoff_Wraithborn (10 posts) - - Show Bio

@_deadeye_: @apathy_:"Kristoff Wraithborn." he responded exhaling a stream of cancer inducing smoke. Briefly taking Murdoch's hand in a firm grip. But before the newly acquainted gunslingers could continue in their casual conversation the saloon doors burst upon. A man, tired, terrified, and in visual shock, stumbled in and began retelling his unbelievable story. Without a word Kristoff removed his tempered blue steel revolver which displayed the Wraithborns signature "curled rose" hand etched into the barrel before checking the chamber and spinning it. Flicking his wrist locking the chamber back in place, he slowly pulled his bandanna up over his mouth as he silently exited the establishment and mounted his horse heading in the direction of the nightmarish scene.

#18 Posted by Kiddevil (7488 posts) - - Show Bio

About one mile outside of Rattlestone's limits

A man stumbled over a piece of stone crying out in terror covering him was a shadow of a man, a mutant. Roy Mcnad had two rifles tied to his back and a six shot revolver tucked into his pants "I'll tell everyone about you!" the man rolling in the dirt cried out. "The hell you will" replied Roy. In the instant Roy pulled his sixshooter from his trousers. The dirt covered man tackled Roy sending a stray bullet into the air "Motherf*cker" The bounty hunter cursed. He'd dropped his gun it laid out of reach for both of them. A snarl came from Roy as bone spikes split the skin of his arms. He slashed deep cut into the man's chest. The man cried out in pain it was beyond the cry you made when you broke your arm no this was the near sobbing of a man who knew he was going to die.

Roy Mcnad, mutant, and bounty hunter, picked up his six shooter five shots left in the barrel he said his last words to the man "I'm sorry you ever learned of this" he said as the gun jerked up discharging the piece of lead in the chamber. The shot let fresh blood leak out the man's chest blending with dirt and dry blood. Roy left to his horse, he'd be back in Rattlestone within the hour but he'd be thinking of the man he just killed all night.