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Theres always Warhammer 40k rps but never Warhammer fantasy?
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I liked SW: The Last Jedi but ultimately found it underwhelming
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Rigondeaux: No mas
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Achille eyed Fenton with the same quiet intensity he naturally displayed. The tale he spoke off would have easily been dismissed by those unfamiliar with the supernatural but such a tale held truths he was familiar with. There was an innocence to the sheriff and the others... a world that only existed in rumors and myths and slowly but surely they were being exposed to the cruel nightmares that existed. As his companions spoke of witches, Achille scanned his memories for anything that could potentially resemble a witch but even he had to privately acknowledge that his experience with such a being was non existent. As Christina offered to show the way to investigate the potential source of all that was going on, Achille nodded subtly to Jack knowing that despite his usual confident persona, even Jack was starting to show signs of uncertainty which was understandable. "Yeah, I'll ride."

While the crowd initially kept their distance, Achille took several steps towards Fenton and eyed the ragged man. "And you're coming with us. I'm sure you'll have your uses with a potential reward coming your way provided you speak the truth." The man took a pause, his eyes like a hawk searching for any potential bodily ticks that could help him read the individual before him. "However on the possibility you're leading us into a trap, we'll spare the majority of the townsfolk the sight of your demise. And I assure you, there will be nothing pretty about it." Achille's words came off as venom.
Achille followed the others inside the office and took a quick look around. As the others discussed what the following steps were, Achille immediately took up the sheriff's offer and worked his way towards the large cache of weapons and ammunition. Weapon wise, Achille had his own impressive arsenal befitting one of an esteemed bounty hunter though having said that, he wasn't one to turn down free ammunition considering the considerable amount he used in the fight against the zombies earlier on. As per routine Achille inspected each bullet as he was sure to fully stock up the duel bandoliers he wore across his body while double checking the status of his weapons to ensure everything was in order.

"You got a good cache here sheriff. Hopefully it all doesn't go to waste when the time comes." Achille stated aloud. It wasn't entirely meant to generate discussion though it was reassuring that when the so called Devil arrives, at least not having enough weapons or ammunition would be a problem. "As for needing another gun, I'll ride. Beats sitting around after all." And just like that Achille took whatever he needed and exited the office and prepped his beast of a horse to go who knows where.
Achille silently observed the understandably nervous crowd. While they debated their course of action, Achille just took mental notes, calculating their chances for the inevitable future attack. There were some decent marksmen and any individual who could remain composed when the undead was attempting to overwhelm the town deserved credit. Yet this Devil that was spoken off earlier maybe Achille uneasy. Just how worst could things get? Could there be something worse than an army of zombies? Admittingly he had seen his fair share of supernatural beings but this situation was beyond anything he knew.

As the town continued to converse, Achille focused his attention on the sheriff who had taken charge of the situation. Even in these dire circumstances, the people were willing to listen to the only authority figurehead in the town. That was at least somewhat good news... Achille would be lying to himself if he wasn't worried about the townsfolk potentially turning against each other in panic. With now some of the people speaking out to answer the sheriff's call, Achille took a small step forward to offer his piece...

"Deputy or not, I owe several people here for helping save my life. I'm thankful and I'll stay and fight considering the circumstances. Having said that sheriff, if there is something you aren't telling us or any of you folk know something... now is the time to speak up."
Achille had remained leaning against the saloon wall, twirling one of his revolvers between his fingers out of habit as he mentally went over recent events. The town was in trouble and the faster he left, the less likely he would have to deal with whatever what was to come. Yet in his moment of reflection the vampire knew that to abandon Longwater and those who aided him would go against his moral code and jeopardize why he had been travelling the Wild West for years. Whatever was coming, he was bound to run into again. It seemed his fate would be the same as the towns.

With the fighting over, Achille took a glance at Jack who despite all that had happened, remain rather composed in this entire ordeal. Perhaps this is why humans drank so much... it lessened their nerves in a way he could never comprehend. Still stuck in his thoughts, Achille heard Christina made a reference to Jack in regards to a 'black beast '. Recognizing the significance of this, Achille pushed himself off the wall, hoisting his revolver as he exited the saloon.

Emerging back outside, Achille squinted his eyes in focus as he surveyed the town... or what was left of it. The corpses littered the town and those who remained alive all had that nervous look in their eye. It was understandable but Achille took note that amidst the action there were those still pressed for action. Christina, the one who had helped him earlier was already out and about trying to help the other survivors. Her selfishness was admirable and her skills made her invaluable to the town. The bounty hunter privately mused that she might be the only one who can keep the town afloat after today and to think he almost subconsciously tried to take a bite. That thought alone was amusing though he knew internally that if he had, it's unlikely he would leave Longwater alive... not with all the armed survivors in the area. Walking towards the 'black beast' referenced earlier, Achille raised his gloved hand and gently pressed it against the creature's side, relived that his travelling companion was alive.

"Relax."
Achille commanded as the startled beast of a horse who strained against the hitching post gradually began to ease. "Relax." Achille said again as he inspected his horse for any injuries. To his relief, the horse remained injury free though there were a pair of bodies by the horse's rear whose torsos bore the imprint of the horse's hoof. In terms of speed, one could do better but when it came to stamina and power, Breton horses were excellent. Reaching into of one of the saddle's various bags, Achille grabbed a carrot and offered it to his mighty steed. "It seems old friend, we're not going anywhere for a while."

As Achille began to inspect his equipment, word had spread fast that the sheriff was calling for an emergency meeting at the office. Knowing that their survival was dependent on the cooperation of the surviving townsfolk, Achille proceeded on over towards where the rest of the survivors, curious on what approach the sheriff would take.
Achille slowly came to his senses, he had felt himself move but he knew it wasn't by his own power. It was obvious he was disoriented... how shameful it was for Achille to look so pathetic despite being so physically imposing and well armed. For all his abilities and skills, he was just another individual now dependent on his rescuers. The thought would have nagged at him had his mind actually been able to focus in the first place. The vampire's mind was still all but a haze as as eyes finally began to gain some focus. His eyes moved from person to person to finally settling on that young woman from earlier. Christina, that was her name or at least that's what he believed he heard. As Christina attempted to speak to him, Achille could only blankly stare at her, her mouth was moving but no words were being heard. Despite her voice of concern, Achille's dark eyes drifted away from her own... drifting toward past her face and at her neck. Her blood was racing, he could see it and despite all the gunfire and sounds of death he could almost feel her heart as if it was in his hands... she was right there, oh so tempting...

Achille's eyes finally blinked as he looked around with hurried eyes as if he had just woken up from a dream. The man's revolvers were still attached to his hands and for a moment he raised them instinctually yet as he gathered himself mentally it was apparent he was safe. Despite his heavy breathing Achille at least offered a response.

"I'm fine...I'm fine." Achille stated as he looked around before breathing his stoic expression with a small chuckle at his own inconvenience. "I'm just... tired. I'll be alright, thank you." He was grateful, truly he was yet as his mind put the pieces together, Achille's eyes almost intensified as he recalled what happened just before he blanked. It was that other woman... Kira. Achille's initial calm gaze had turned into a glare... he knew something was off about her and it was obvious she could tell what he was and yet she almost revealed his secret out in the open. Part of him wanted to silence her almost immediately yet at the same time she did help save him which put him in awkward position in regards to his morals.

Back out east, such an open display was punishable by death. Achille silently hoped that nobody heard that conversation otherwise the ones who came to his defense would be quick to turn on him, he had no doubt. This was something he would have to address with her another time and away from the others. With the sounds of the battle starting to fade outside, Achille anticipated that they had somehow survived the initial event and that aggressive look in his eye faded. With a roof over his head and being away from direct sunlight, Achille could somewhat feel his diminished strength returning though it was best not to push it. With measured movements, Achille hoisted himself up as he turned to thank Christina once more.

"I'll pass on that drink but I am grateful for your help. I'd go check on the others, they are probably in worst shape than I am."
Accurate shots from Achille's repeater rifle found home time and time again. Each shot fired dropped one of the approaching undead but there was many... too many. The townsfolk were disorganized, there were no proper barriers and it was becoming rapidly apparent that it was going to be every individual for themselves. As Achille took a quick moment to watch the revenant ride off after delivering an ominous warning...the vampire bounty hunter was starting to accept that the defense of Longwater was becoming a vain effort.

Realizing that escape may be the only option here, Achille guided his movements backwards towards the saloon which housed his temporarily hitched horse. The sounds of various cries and the smell of the body was overwhelming and while Achille had the luxury of having a pair of bandoliers strapped across his body for additional ammunition, there was surely far too many to defeat.

Click, click.

Empty.

Achille glanced downwards... he had used up all of his ammunition for his rifle. Throwing the strapped weapon back across his back, Achille leaned away just as one of the dead lunged at him. In one swift motion, Achille countered with a gloved right straight into his undead foe. The landed blow all but pulverized the undead individual's skull but the brief use of his supernatural strength sapped at him caused him to nearly stumble forwards. Achille struggled to regain proper footing, his breathing was growing heavy and his vision was starting to get shaky.

Achille took a glance upwards... it was mid-day and the sun was high in the sky. He was already weakened... he needed some sort of reprieve. The sounds of gunfire and bodies intensified from the saloon, catching Achille's attention further. Admittingly those inside could prove provide proper distraction and unintentionally watch his back. As more of the undead closed in on the saloon, Achille at last unleashed the pair of ornate colt revolvers. Taking careful steps backwards, Achille fired time and time again in alternating shots, each one felling a body. He was almost there, his horse while agitated from the noise was within reach, Achille could see him from the corner of his eye...

Mistake

His temporary lapse in vision was enough as another of the undead had closed the gap. It was only by his natural reflexes that he raised an arm to briefly hold the zombie that scratched and clawed at his dark leather duster. With a quick push off with his shoulder, Achille managed to create some distance before placing a kick that slammed into the creature's chest, following up with a well placed shot in between the eyes. As the smoke filled the air from the aftermath of his shot, Achille felt his body weaken more as he dropped to a knee... his breathing heavier, his movements slowing and there was still no end in sight.
"Well then..." was all Jon could say now that he had gained another look into Raimi's abilities. In a world filled with individuals with incredible abilities, Raimi had to be up there in terms of uniqueness. It's a good thing she was on his side at least... or better yet, that he was on her good side. The young kryptonian was confident when they first met but has only been impressed and confused all at the same time as he continued to learn bits and pieces of his companion. It also came to a surprise that Raimi would go on to admit that she wasn't the one responsible for the spotlight that led back to the harbor. Perhaps it was an innocent mistake when she was messing with the inner workings of the weather machine or perhaps there was an exterior force that had provided help, whose presence remained unknown to them. So many possibilities, so many things to contemplate but it was Raimi's mention of getting the Weather Wizard that brought him back to focus. As Jon had nodded in agreement to return to the harbor, Raimi was already in another portal, beating him to the water front.

It's been a long time since he was the one coming in second to a destination. The thought in itself caused Jon to smirk...this day continued to grow more interesting. With a small push off the weather machine with his feet, Jon hovered in the air for a moment like a sprinter ready to explode out of the blocks. And just like that an invisible gun had gone off in his head and Jon was once more ripping through the air towards the waterfront as all of Gotham could hear the roaring thunder of air struggling to keep up.

In just a few quick moments Jon landed with a hard thud, the concrete sidewalk underneath him cracking from the pure force of his landing. Jon's eyes glared towards the warehouse in a quick preliminary search... someone was definitely inside but the innerworkings of the insides of the warehouse were similar to the insides of the weather machine. Raimi was already here, waiting for him, back against the wall... ready to act based on his own actions. The Weather Wizard had to know at least he was here... Jon made it rather obvious that he was coming and his display of force was partly intimidation but also to keep any sort of focus on him. If Raimi could get to the Weather Wizard while he distracted the initial defenses, perfect... or if necessary, the two should have been enough to occupy the Weather Wizard as S.H.I.E.L.D agents from Gotham remained on their way.

Knowing time could possibly be against them and the plan being relatively simple, Jon gave Raimi a subtle nod... he would go in first. Approaching the main metallic doors of the warehouse, Jon took a quick peak around, searching for any signs of some sort of camera or observational device. With nothing seemingly out of the ordinary, Jon shrugged and with a press of a hand, sent the metallic doors flying off the hinges.

"Knock. Knock." Jon stated. His voice would have been more menacing had it not been for the obvious sarcasm his tone carried. Yet just as the blue armored hero walked in, Jon came under immediate fire as bolts of light showered him in a beautiful, destructive display.

As the small group conversed amongst themselves, Achille's gaze intensified immediately. There was something in the air, there was no question about it. With his abilities weakened, the bounty hunter had no choice but to expose his face to get a better read on his suspicions. Raising a gloved hand, Achille lowered his bandana revealing his clean shaven, square jawed face. It was almost anti dramatic that for an individual to be so covered up have no spectacular secrets. There were no scars, tattoos, odd markings... nothing that adorned his face. Yet in the most subtle of expressions, Achille grimaced briefly as the sun kissed the parts of his exposed, pale face. After taking a moment to compose himself, Achille smelled the air... his suspicions confirmed. Turning his head towards the direction of the smell, Achille watched the undead horde make itself known to the town.

Running past the crowd, Achille took note of what appeared to be the sheriff rushing towards the undead, prepared to engage the horde. "I suppose if any of you can wield a weapon, might as well make yourself useful. If not... it's probably best you run now." The bounty hunter stated bluntly as he stepped away from the group. Walking towards where he had hitched his muscular, breton horse Achille grabbed the repeater riffle that was attached to a hoister on the horse's saddle with one hand, while placing his other hand on his gun belt which housed his two ornate revolvers.

Taking measured steps, his eyes fixated on the horde, Achille placed himself alongside the sheriff, his tone drifting between a serious, and sarcastic measure. "Judging from that look on your face, I'm guessing introductions can wait. I hope you don't freeze on me if this goes south.".Prepping his trigger finger, Achille's eyes zoomed in the individual who appeared to be leading the horde, his stance ready for whatever was to come.
Dante nodded his head every so often, simply taking in all the information that was being discussed. Considering the planetary circumstances they were about to undergo, Dante privately mused that he was sure he had some sort of clothing for the cold weather either on his starfighter or potentially in an old storage locker somewhere on the temple. With the group disbanding to make their final preparations, Dante figured it was time to do the same. Yet before he made any sort of movements, a voice called out to him. It was Percivalyn, the other Jedi coming along.

Dante shrugged at her question, turning his gaze briefly away as if contemplating some grand answer. "I'm not much of a numbers guy, so whatever the odds are, I'll do my job." Dante replied. It came off as a cocky response yet Dante always had a certain unshakeable confidence about him. Yet as the young knight turned to look back at the Twi'Lek he recognized that his companion was experiencing some nerves. It was only after his response that Dante felt a hint of embarrassment in his answer, feeling that he could have formulated something better out of his mouth. In a quick effort to remedy his mistake and not potentially ruin any sort of teamwork comradery, Dante chuckled and gestured his head quickly towards the others. "If Master Skywalker believes in us, who cares what the numbers say. We'll be good."
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