[h2][center][color=a0410d]Flint Dunigan[/color][/center][/h2]
[center][@Lugubrious][@Raijinslayer][/center]
Flint had passed up on the chance to try some of those little fancy green things, but didn't seem to pass on the opportunity to tell his story once again to the curious Jo-Kam and recruit Argus. "None taken, nothing rude about asking a man about his travels. It has been awhile since I had last been in a position to tell some of my stories, those dime novels already did that for me, but between us I've never actually taken on the entire Ambrose Gang with just one spell. I'm getting ahead of myself though, I'm guessin' you two want to hear the tale of how I gotten the Ol' Six Shooter? Well, you best believe me proper because it is one hell of a strange one." 

"You see, back in my early days I used to use everything as weapon besides that fancy magic as I had no skill in that trade. All the townspeople thought I was just right insane since all of the bounties worth chasin' were the people who made a name for themselves using some dangerous magic. The lawmen could take down at most some of those small town kids, but people like Molly the Butcher or the Ambrose Gang? Nah, those little tin-star men were just rightly happy being alive. However, they can't just let those people run wild so they would stoop so low to have other people take on those problems for them, and that you two, is where I came in." 

"See, I was still a small time bounty hunter, I've done my share of some gun-slinging but battling people with some of that powerful magic? Out of the question, but I was young, stupid, and arrogant from my past victories that I thought I could take on one of the bigger bounties. Bill Carson was his name, robbed two banks, killed six lawmen, and racked up a hell of a bounty by escaping jail more than dozen times. I was after that big meat, cash could last me any number amount of trips to the bar, and with my mean-ass attitude I thought I could take on that fire-spewing asshole. But boy, was I wrong about that, the rascal had gotten smart and nearly hired every drunken drifter and saddle bastard to report about anyone walks into his territory. And I soon found myself ambushed at the Martha Junction, fifteen men stood up from the brushes to give me a close casket funeral, but I beat them away easy. Found myself some cover, waited for the fire to stop, and sent three unlucky whoresons to their grave. It doesn't take much for those drunks to scare off, but little did I know it was just a nasty trap as I found myself with a quick jut to the head and falling face first into that nasty dirt ground."

"So I found myself waking up, head pounding and body feeling like I've been trampled by a stampede of horses. And as I was starting to get my bearings, guess who was standing right above me? Bill Carson himself, with a big bent pig iron bar in his hands and a nasty look on his face. So as I get up, he says to me, "About time you woke up! Been hitting you with this here bar for just about twenty minutes! Man, you is one tough boy but you ain't tough enough to kill Bill Carson!" He laughed at me, and I was rightly angry at him, but he was right, I was looking black and blue all over with red dripping everywhere around my body. At that point, I was beat to near death but Bill didn't just end it right there, no he did not. He grabbed me by the neck, felt like I was just about to choke to death from that mean boy's farmer hands. He forces me outside with a blindfold, shoves me forward and says that if I just keep walking in front of me and said if I can survive till' sundown, they would let me go free. I knew it was a bad deal, I had my broken body and Bill had his sick sense of torture, but I still walked since everything I wanted at that point was to live and to later take revenge on that man."

"So I walked... And walked, and walked until I could feel my feet bleed from the stony ground. I was left with nothing but my knickers, and I knew once nighttime came that I would be a frozen treat for those blasted coyotes. My arms, couldn't move em' one bit as I trudged along with the blindfold leading me to nowhere. I thought it to be my end, alone, broken, and most importantly disgraced from that no-nothing Bill Carson. I got tired from all that walking and found myself falling face dirt once again, this time with no one there to pro-long my life... Well, none that I was aware of." 

"I woke up again, feeling even worse than I did if that was even possible. I didn't think the afterlife would make you feel this bad for my deeds, but after opening my eyes I just found myself in some small little cabin. Nothing too bad, the bed wasn't exactly my style but it was better than a mouth full of dirt. My body felt even worse than before if I forgot the mention that, couldn't even leave the bed for darn's sake as I felt groggy all to hell, but I saw something on my lap. It was a note of all things, after being dragged through the dirt, bullets flying at me, bars of iron, and walking through hell itself it was just a piece of paper this time in the past few days. I pick it up, and read it out all slurred like, "Avenge my daughter and you have earned your reward, ask the town of Dead Rock about Prisilla and they will tell you what you need to know," I was confused for sure, didn't know anything about what I was reading or what I was doing at this place, but as my eyes drifted away from those words and to my thumb, I realized something strange, this ain't my thumb. My mind focused itself from its pained state, and I soon found my arms had went missing and were replaced with something entirely new. Hard to admit, but I was screaming for the next ten minutes like a kid that just been disciplined... So, that is how I found Ol' Six Shooter, stories say different but that is how I had gotten these things. If you want to know about more, after I had gotten my unwilling transplant, we gotta find something to wet my whistle."