Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you... Ultra Futuristic Robot Cowboy! ... Sorta


fox
[center][img]http://img.4plebs.org/boards/tg/image/1396/35/1396356244631.jpg[/img][/center]
 

[b]Name:[/b] Travis Ice

[b]Title:[/b] Outlaw

[b]Age:[/b] 30

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Facial Appearance:[/b][hider=Face Portrait][img]http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large-5/the-stranger-bw-1-version-andrew-read.jpg[/img][/hider]

[b]Armor:[/b] Travis wears a simple titanium plating under his shirt, utilizing the versatility of titanium; being both hard and lightweight. He also wears a sturdy iron faceplate, with built in technologically advanced lens: the lens are capable of zooming, detecting thermal emission, and night vision. 

[b]Weapons:[/b][list]
[*] A steel bowie knife, strapped to his leg via a leg holster
[*] Two Smith and Wesson .45 six inch barrel Revolvers, which he has affectionately named “Bessie” and “Nellie.”
[*] [url=http://www.airsoftgunner.com/images/product/thumbs/MRZDERGOLD.jpg]A golden plated Derringer[/url] which he has stowed in his left boot for tricky situations
[*] [url=http://joeforamerica.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/pic_4530_2.jpg] An old-style double barrel shotgun[/url] slung to his back by a leathered old strap

[b]Misc Items:[/b] At all times, Travis has a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on him which he addictively smokes

[b]Bio:[/b]  Sands shifted lazily in the breeze, tumbleweeds whistled by, and the sun extended it’s arms. A dust cloud formed in the distance, gaining traction and whipping up sand to feed its ever growing size. In this desert climate, the inhabitants of the island were used to a sight like this, and ultimately unfazed. As time passed, the dust cloud became an angry, raging sandstorm. Suddenly, in the opposite direction of the sandstorm, coming from the South, rode a lone rider, steadfast and furious. But soon it was apparent that this lone rider was not alone, no, quite the contrary. A pack of six gentleman trailed him, riding just as ferociously. As the group grew closer, muzzle flashes, the smell of burnt gunpowder, and popping sounds could be made out. The pursuers shot erratically, attempting to hit the fleeing cowboy. Machine gun fire could be made out, spraying the sand up into a flurry where it had made impact. Whilst employing various maneuvers on his horse in an attempt to evade the fire, he pulled out what looked like a pipe bomb. He lit the pipe, lobbed it behind him, set his head down, and rode hard. An explosion rocked the dunes, taking out four of the six pursuers. The sandstorm loomed ominously as the men chased onwards. 

As they approached the storm front, the men expected the hotshot rider to pull back and give himself up, but he just powered on. “What in the fu--” yelled one of the men, as the roar of the wind cut him off. “This crazy fucker just rode on in there! We gotta go after ‘em!” he yelled to his partner. “Relax, these storms last days. He’ll die in there with no food or water,” the other replied, not looking very confident. “I sure hope so,” replied the other.

This man’s name was Travis Ice, wanted for the cold blooded murder of one bank employee, five Sheriff's Men, and the armed robbery of a bank. What the men didn’t know was that his sturdy iron faceplate protected him from the sand and allowed him to see through the raging storm. Approximately 500 paces forward lay a small airship, awaiting him for a crafty escape. Ice had planned this, choosing the exact day for the sandstorm, all apart of his cunning and calculated plan. Aboard the ship, lay his getaway driver. “You got my cut?” the shaggy man in his mid 50s said, standing at the entrance to the ship. Travis looked at him for a very long time before saying, “Sure.” Just as the man turned around to enter the ship, Travis blew him away with his shotgun, muttering to himself, “Sure, sure I do.” Travis untied the sacks of cash off of his horse, loaded them onto the ship, and he was off into the sky.

He landed on a nearby urban island’s port. As he pulled into the shiny and glistening city, he looked to his left to see a ship named “the Crimson Dusicyon.” He chuckled and said to himself, “Well, I’ll be damned.” And that, my friends, is how it all began.