Avatar of Heat

Status

Recent Statuses

5 yrs ago
Undertow only makes me think of Tool. Good album though.
2 likes
5 yrs ago
Incest in 1x1 interest check. Opinion invalidated.
15 likes
5 yrs ago
Yeah don’t ever recall BLM charging the US Capitol building, scaling the walls, attacking Capitol police and breaking windows to enter.
6 likes
5 yrs ago
RIP America 1776 - 2021. We had a good run.
3 likes
6 yrs ago
If I am made mod I will do what everyone truly desires and delete the status bar.
6 likes

Bio



ABOUT ME:
  • Male.
  • EST USA timezone.
  • Been RPing since 2011.
  • Mainly into sci-fi RPs.
  • GM'd and been a player in too many roleplays to list.


CURRENT ROLEPLAYS:




Fin.

Feel free to hit me up if you wanna RP with me or have a RP idea you think I might be into.

Most Recent Posts


Dean Jackson



A few minutes before the firefight...

The saloon was full to the brim with people, customers mingling among themselves while the employees worked to keep the place going. As another hot day began in Dawson, the sun hung high in the sky. At the bar many folks were already drinking heavily, droplets of split liquor splashed onto the fine wooden surface but were quickly wiped up by the attentive bartenders. The working women within the tavern passed out drinks to tired patrons, all while flaunting their breathtaking beauty. At a small round table several gamblers sat, pint glasses spread over the table while they played cards. A prostitute sat on the lap of one of the men, whispering into his ear with a smile. For the moment it was peaceful, that momentary peace would not last long.

"Do they even know who you are?" The pianist asked, half jokingly and half rudely. Adjusting his glasses as he took his position at the bench in front of the old piano.

"I don't need an introduction, friend." Dean Jackson replied with a cocky grin.

The former slave turned wandering musician knew these drunks, desperadoes and drifters wouldn't care what his name was. Ninety percent of them would be focused on the color of his skin. It didn't matter, part of him enjoyed the anonymity. Always allowed him to watch with such satisfaction as they were all utterly stunned at the display of musical mastery played before them. Dean tried to be a modest fellow, but considering how damn good he was at what he did, modesty could sometimes be difficult.

"Just play the notes I wrote on that sheet. If this goes good, I'll give you a quarter of the tips." Dean said calmly, tuning his guitar as he had his back turned to the audience.

He stood upon a small raised stage on one side of the large saloon, an empty mug serving as the tip jar. The piano was to the left of the stage, and pianist just rolled his eyes, forced to go along with this performance. He didn't think he'd start his day taking orders from a negro, but his boss had no qualms hiring the man after seeing him perform previously. Gave as glowing a review as someone could. Once the old instrument sounded just right, he spun around and revealed himself to the crowd. Looking out at the room with a smile, none in the crowd returned the expression. Really he just saw glares, but that was something he always expected.

"Hello there, I hope you're all doing great today. My name's Dean, just sit back, grab a drink and enjoy the show." He said to the crowd, hearing a few boos and jeers in return. Then dove right into performing, gently playing a few chords as the piano started slowly. Dean began to sang in a slow baritone, as his fingers glide over the strings.

Across the trail I rode
The sun sets low in the hills
Only moonlight lights my path
Then I heard them...
Then I saw them...


Dean's hands picked up pace as he rapidly plucked and played his guitar, his foot tapping along to the beat of it as his fingers danced over the frets. The piano picked up pace, keys nearly pounded as the song sped up like a horse speeding through a field. His voice went up slightly in tone as he sang quicker.

Three outlaws, three guns, aimed my way
I turned and ran, as shots rang out
My six shooter bared, three to one, no care
One down in a bloody heap, face-down in the dust


A few of the patrons grooved to the music, tapping their feet and nodding their heads. One of the prostitutes started to dance, swinging her hips as another grabbed her and the danced as a duo. Dean smirked as the instrumental carried, the frantic pace of the music chugging along. His hands shifted and moved around the instrument. He briefly glanced towards the doors as they popped upon, and a troublesome duo entered. He heard one in the crowd speak of Dawson's gang, and that caused the musician to blink, but not break stride in his playing.

The other two rode hot on my trail
Bullets glided by in the wind
Another dead
But not me, partner


Then the piano player paused, as instructed, and Dean took centerstage. His fingers dashing over the guitar, as his feet tapped faster. He glanced back towards the crowd, having memorized the song from constant repetition. The chatter between the Coyote and Dawson's men drawing his eyes towards them. Dean had heard of Adams, never seen him before but heard the names in his travels. As the coin flipped in his direction, landing in the mug, he was in the process of singing again, the piano kicking back into the music. As the Coyote left with foes in tow, Dean watched them, singing.

Wolves watching in the distance
Vultures in the skies
Dead men lie
But not I


A shot echoed in the outside and the song finished early. A firefight had a particular way of drawing all the attention. Many of the patrons jumped out of their seats, and looked out the doors and windows. Others took cover, Dean darted off stage. Leaving his surprised pianist behind. He dashed out the back door, tucking his guitar behind him as his other hand slipped into his holster. A smile went onto his face as he moved through an alley, taking cover behind a building and cocking his six shooter.

Dean had left the building.

@HeatI was thinking about that, but have only done it once before. I might make one sometime soon!


It's pretty easy to set one up, each of the RPs I'm in have Discord channels and it really helps with communication!
@Jones Sparrow I'll probably have Dean drift into the fight, maybe after perfoming nearby.

I also thought it might be a good idea to make a Discord chat server for this RP, considering how large it is. A chat like that could make it easier to communicate with all the players.

Dean Jackson


AKA: N/A

Age: 40

Occupation: Traveling musician and occasional bounty hunter

Appearance: A tall man standing 1.87 meters in height, Dean is in good shape from constant activity. His hair is buzzed short and his beard is neatly trimmed. Scars mark his back, whippings from decades in the past which the markings of are still evident. He always has his acoustic guitar strapped around his back, it is his most prized possession and one he's had since childhood.

Bio: Born in deep southern Mississippi on a plantation, Dean was born into slavery. At an early age he was torn away from his parents along with his sister, Layla, both were sold to another farm in Alabama. The two siblings learned to stick together from then on, always clinging together when they were brought to their strange new home. Dean was particularly picked on by his masters, he was often on the receiving ends of beatings by the cruel slavers, at times taking the punishment for his sister's mistakes. His life was relatively simple for slave, he was expected to pick cotton and work as hard as possible at all times. He still despised every second of it, being considered someone else's property and not being allowed to make his own decisions angered him.

Naturally blessed with a fine singing voice, Dean was given a guitar by one of the slave masters. The man taught the boy how to play it, seeing it as a potential way to make money off Dean. In his free-time he'd frequently make songs, and sing to the other frightened slaves on the farm. He convinced one of the house servants to teach him how to write, and this enabled him to become a better musician. The interest in music helped alleviate some of the pain and sorrow on the farm. Following the end of the Civil War, Dean was given full freedom. A young adult at that point, he immediately set out west on his own, accompanied by Layla. Dean vowed to leave that life behind him, but never to forget the cruelty he endured.

On the journey west Dean often took gigs playing music in bars and taverns across the land. Still often on the receiving end of hate and racism due to his color, he made enough money for Layla and him to get by due to his talents as a musician. While traveling towards Texas one day, Dean and his sister were approached by a group of five men. Hurling slurs and hatred their way, the troublesome group attacked Dean and Layla. The former slave was thrown to the ground and beaten brutally, the money he had collected taken from him. Then he was forced to watch as the evil men forced themselves on Layla. Then in a bout of laughter they killed her, a single bullet through her skull as tears streamed down her face. The men left the beaten Dean alive, then left as quickly as they had arrived. Dean gave his sister a burial, he vowed revenge against the five men.

He continued towards Texas, now with new intent as he seeked vengeance. Aiming to become stronger so that he could kill the five men, he forced himself to become better with a revolver. Then he took bounty hunting jobs when he could, normally low level ones that would paid just enough so that he could get along, but not too dangerous that'd he end up dead. He tracked down one of the men several months later, finding him separated from the larger group. Driving his dagger into the man's gut, Dean made the man speak and he did. The man told him everything, who his boss Richard Dawson was and where the other four men had gone. He stabbed the man in the neck, and moved on. For the last few years he has been on his mission to find Dawson and the four men that hurt him and killed his sister.

Weapons: Dean carries a Colt Single Action Army .45 revolver and a Bowie knife for weapons.

Relationships: Dean has not seen his parents since he was a very young boy, both were slaves and he was separated from them decades ago, he believes they are both dead. He had a younger sister named Layla, but she was killed by Dawson's gang. Due to his wanderer tendencies, Dean does not have many constant friends. He has made friends in the past, but he's left them behind in his travels. He doesn't yet have an opinion on anyone in the group.

Recruited?: Not yet.

Other: He rides a brown horse named Autumn.

Dean Jackson


AKA: N/A

Age: 40

Occupation: Traveling musician and occasional bounty hunter

Appearance: A tall man standing 1.87 meters in height, Dean is in good shape from constant activity. His hair is buzzed short and his beard is neatly trimmed. Scars mark his back, whippings from decades in the past which the markings of are still evident. He always has his acoustic guitar strapped around his back, it is his most prized possession and one he's had since childhood.

Bio: Born in deep southern Mississippi on a plantation, Dean was born into slavery. At an early age he was torn away from his parents along with his sister, Layla, both were sold to another farm in Alabama. The two siblings learned to stick together from then on, always clinging together when they were brought to their strange new home. Dean was particularly picked on by his masters, he was often on the receiving ends of beatings by the cruel slavers, at times taking the punishment for his sister's mistakes. His life was relatively simple for slave, he was expected to pick cotton and work as hard as possible at all times. He still despised every second of it, being considered someone else's property and not being allowed to make his own decisions angered him.

Naturally blessed with a fine singing voice, Dean was given a guitar by one of the slave masters. The man taught the boy how to play it, seeing it as a potential way to make money off Dean. In his free-time he'd frequently make songs, and sing to the other frightened slaves on the farm. He convinced one of the house servants to teach him how to write, and this enabled him to become a better musician. The interest in music helped alleviate some of the pain and sorrow on the farm. Following the end of the Civil War, Dean was given full freedom. A young adult at that point, he immediately set out west on his own, accompanied by Layla. Dean vowed to leave that life behind him, but never to forget the cruelty he endured.

On the journey west Dean often took gigs playing music in bars and taverns across the land. Still often on the receiving end of hate and racism due to his color, he made enough money for Layla and him to get by due to his talents as a musician. While traveling towards Texas one day, Dean and his sister were approached by a group of five men. Hurling slurs and hatred their way, the troublesome group attacked Dean and Layla. The former slave was thrown to the ground and beaten brutally, the money he had collected taken from him. Then he was forced to watch as the evil men forced themselves on Layla. Then in a bout of laughter they killed her, a single bullet through her skull as tears streamed down her face. The men left the beaten Dean alive, then left as quickly as they had arrived. Dean gave his sister a burial, he vowed revenge against the five men.

He continued towards Texas, now with new intent as he seeked vengeance. Aiming to become stronger so that he could kill the five men, he forced himself to become better with a revolver. Then he took bounty hunting jobs when he could, normally low level ones that would paid just enough so that he could get along, but not too dangerous that'd he end up dead. He tracked down one of the men several months later, finding him separated from the larger group. Driving his dagger into the man's gut, Dean made the man speak and he did. The man told him everything, who his boss Richard Dawson was and where the other four men had gone. He stabbed the man in the neck, and moved on. For the last few years he has been on his mission to find Dawson and the four men that hurt him and killed his sister.

Weapons: Dean carries a Colt Single Action Army .45 revolver and a Bowie knife for weapons.

Relationships: Dean has not seen his parents since he was a very young boy, both were slaves and he was separated from them decades ago, he believes they are both dead. He had a younger sister named Layla, but she was killed by Dawson's gang. Due to his wanderer tendencies, Dean does not have many constant friends. He has made friends in the past, but he's left them behind in his travels. He doesn't yet have an opinion on anyone in the group.

Recruited?: Not yet.

Other: He rides a brown horse named Autumn.

@Jones Sparrow
Damn. I was gonna try to join but it filled up almost immediately.
Fellas,



I'll put down my interest, I love Westerns. There aren't enough on the Guild, this looks like it could be fun!
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