PLEASE IGNORE MY LAST IC POST i really need to learn to refresh before posting...
EDIT// boop fixed
EDIT// boop fixed
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- hoppiholla391 11 yrs ago
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CAPTAAAAAAAAAAAAIN AMERIRCAAAAA
11 yrs ago
still sick with dragon age
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11 yrs ago
TRESPASSER DLC HYPE
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Rose raised her eyebrows, but she stepped forward and gingerly picked the gun off the ground from where it had skidded to a halt in the dust when Johnny flung it at her. She fumbled for a moment before she managed to empty the chambers, and a breath went out of her she hadn't known she'd been holding.
"Shame," she mused, walking briskly enough towards Rat. "I've still got your wallet, too, sugar." He had, after all, given it to her at the beginning of this insane night—she very much doubted he'd be coming to get it now.
Flipping the now-harmless gun around one finger, Rose cocked a hip, still maintaining a safe distance from Rat but now allowing a satisfied smile to curl her lips.
"Well, Sheriff, I'd say that's one Rat O'Hennessey, alive rather than dead," she called to Charlotte, leaning shakily against the rail of her saloon's porch. "How about you get one of these big, strong men to take care of the shipping and handling and we can talk money, hm?"
"Shame," she mused, walking briskly enough towards Rat. "I've still got your wallet, too, sugar." He had, after all, given it to her at the beginning of this insane night—she very much doubted he'd be coming to get it now.
Flipping the now-harmless gun around one finger, Rose cocked a hip, still maintaining a safe distance from Rat but now allowing a satisfied smile to curl her lips.
"Well, Sheriff, I'd say that's one Rat O'Hennessey, alive rather than dead," she called to Charlotte, leaning shakily against the rail of her saloon's porch. "How about you get one of these big, strong men to take care of the shipping and handling and we can talk money, hm?"
i feel like i should start handing out t-shirts
'i survived the sandy rose saloon'
'i survived the sandy rose saloon'
Rose didn't bother to take the front door with everyone else—this was her saloon, after all, and she knew it like the back of her hand. She raced past the patrons at the bar, not bothering to apologize for any bumped shoulders, and darted into the back room. She hastily threw the lock behind her—only she would be able to get in now, with the key she kept in a very private location—and kept going, holding a window open and vaulting the sill with the skill of a hurdler. She let the glass slam shut behind her and kept running. The window opened into the track that led between the wooden buildings. As she ran, Rose hiked up her skirts again, and her hand immediately went to the set of three small, black leather sheaths that were strapped to her upper thigh.
She burst out onto the street in front of Rat on his charging horse, about fifty meters away and slightly to the left of her. Rampinella stood her ground. She breathed in deeply, one knife in her hand, and set her feet, shoulder-width apart. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, steadying her racing heart in a matter of moments. Closing one eye, she sighted down the road at the horse galloping towards her, and the angry criminal bouncing on its back. Breathe in. She drew back her arm, flipping the knife in one smooth movement and grasping it by its tip. Rat was barely ten meters away.
Breathe out. Her arm lashed forward with lightning speed. The knife flashed away out of her hand, spinning end over end in a perfect arc as she threw herself out of the way, the blade on a trajectory to slice right through the girth of Rat's saddle.
She hadn't drawn crowds from all across the West for nothing.
She burst out onto the street in front of Rat on his charging horse, about fifty meters away and slightly to the left of her. Rampinella stood her ground. She breathed in deeply, one knife in her hand, and set her feet, shoulder-width apart. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, steadying her racing heart in a matter of moments. Closing one eye, she sighted down the road at the horse galloping towards her, and the angry criminal bouncing on its back. Breathe in. She drew back her arm, flipping the knife in one smooth movement and grasping it by its tip. Rat was barely ten meters away.
Breathe out. Her arm lashed forward with lightning speed. The knife flashed away out of her hand, spinning end over end in a perfect arc as she threw herself out of the way, the blade on a trajectory to slice right through the girth of Rat's saddle.
She hadn't drawn crowds from all across the West for nothing.
"If there's some kind of divine booze in there, I'm calling dibs."
The voice came from the mouth of the cave. Slightly rough and lower than the average female's, its owner raised an eyebrow at whoever turned to look. At least her voice fit her, with one small, white-pink scar through her lip and another creeping its way up her neck, not to mention the shabby (to put it lightly) appearance of her black leather jacket, boots, and dark jeans. The steel knuckles of her gloves clinked as she adjusted the strap of her equally shabby duffel bag, folding her arms once it was settled.
Leah had been on the move for weeks now—she'd had to drastically change her course to answer the vision that had lanced through her head in the middle of jacking a car. At nineteen years old, she'd long since learned to listen to the strange daydreams she occasionally received. She'd ignored them before, and it hadn't turned out well. Here, in the middle of the woods, she could survive just fine, even if she were more suited to city life, and she'd thought she'd lay low for a while in the cave she'd seen. But no—she arrived to already find a group, arguing over a jar. She looked over each of them in turn with a critical eye, sizing them up, but said nothing more.
The voice came from the mouth of the cave. Slightly rough and lower than the average female's, its owner raised an eyebrow at whoever turned to look. At least her voice fit her, with one small, white-pink scar through her lip and another creeping its way up her neck, not to mention the shabby (to put it lightly) appearance of her black leather jacket, boots, and dark jeans. The steel knuckles of her gloves clinked as she adjusted the strap of her equally shabby duffel bag, folding her arms once it was settled.
Leah had been on the move for weeks now—she'd had to drastically change her course to answer the vision that had lanced through her head in the middle of jacking a car. At nineteen years old, she'd long since learned to listen to the strange daydreams she occasionally received. She'd ignored them before, and it hadn't turned out well. Here, in the middle of the woods, she could survive just fine, even if she were more suited to city life, and she'd thought she'd lay low for a while in the cave she'd seen. But no—she arrived to already find a group, arguing over a jar. She looked over each of them in turn with a critical eye, sizing them up, but said nothing more.
Vanahara was transfixed as they moved through the airship. She'd never seen anything of the kind—the most advanced technology she'd managed to create at home was the town's first pendulum clock, and that had been a rare exception. She was meant to focus on practical matters at home, and once she arrived at the Academy, the basics of Ironworking. This ship was something else. She couldn't help but let her fingers trail along the walls as she followed the group to the main deck, face impassive but grinning internally as she sensed her way through the workings of the airship.
She came to a stop at the back of the room when they reached the main deck, looking around with interest, and the light of curiosity was visible in her eyes. When the Commander called for questions, she raised a hand, waiting until she was recognized before asking the question that had occurred to her the moment she felt the intricate workings of the ship.
"What's our access level, sir?" she asked, folding her hands behind her back. "I mean to say, are there any restricted areas we need to watch out for?"
She came to a stop at the back of the room when they reached the main deck, looking around with interest, and the light of curiosity was visible in her eyes. When the Commander called for questions, she raised a hand, waiting until she was recognized before asking the question that had occurred to her the moment she felt the intricate workings of the ship.
"What's our access level, sir?" she asked, folding her hands behind her back. "I mean to say, are there any restricted areas we need to watch out for?"
looks good, and we can always use new people! i should be back in full force by tuesday, but before then, go ahead and post your CS in the character tab and jump in!
The bottle of booze was in Rose's hand when the shots rang out. Her gloved hand clenched around the neck rather than dropping it, a long honed instinct from when she was handling things much more dangerous than a glass bottle. Also from long experience, she froze, shoulders jerking, rather than flailing around in fear. All that would do was make her a bigger target.
The other patrons of the saloon weren't quite so experienced. The real cowboys were up in a second, hands on their guns but unwilling to shoot the trigger-happy undertaker in their midst; her girls were screaming, cowering beneath tables or, in some lucky cases, behind the broad shoulders of the men. Rose herself slammed her hands over her ears as more than one bottle shattered behind her.
And, of course, Archie missed. Missed from three feet away.
There was blood dripping down Rat's face, but it was far from a killing blow, and all it did was piss him off. Shouts erupted from all sides, people demanding to know what was going on, for Archie to put the gun down, for Sheriff Rey to do something, and Rose could see seven thousand dollars slipping out of her fingers as Rat (smartly) bolted toward the door.
So she did what only she could.
Rose vaulted onto the bartop, the ruffles of her skirts flying with a flash of skin beneath as she stood feet above everyone else, bottle still clutched in her hand, and bellowed in the voice that had filled the big top.
"A THOUSAND DOLLARS TO WHOEVER BRINGS ME THAT MAN ALIVE!"
The other patrons of the saloon weren't quite so experienced. The real cowboys were up in a second, hands on their guns but unwilling to shoot the trigger-happy undertaker in their midst; her girls were screaming, cowering beneath tables or, in some lucky cases, behind the broad shoulders of the men. Rose herself slammed her hands over her ears as more than one bottle shattered behind her.
And, of course, Archie missed. Missed from three feet away.
There was blood dripping down Rat's face, but it was far from a killing blow, and all it did was piss him off. Shouts erupted from all sides, people demanding to know what was going on, for Archie to put the gun down, for Sheriff Rey to do something, and Rose could see seven thousand dollars slipping out of her fingers as Rat (smartly) bolted toward the door.
So she did what only she could.
Rose vaulted onto the bartop, the ruffles of her skirts flying with a flash of skin beneath as she stood feet above everyone else, bottle still clutched in her hand, and bellowed in the voice that had filled the big top.
"A THOUSAND DOLLARS TO WHOEVER BRINGS ME THAT MAN ALIVE!"
hey, guys, i am so sorry! i had a surprise trip to visit family sprung on me and up until now ive had no wifi, and im unlikely to get any more until tuesday. when i get home, i can jump back into the IC. im so so sorry about this, and i hope i can still jump back in when i get back home.
hey, guys, i am so sorry! i had a surprise trip to visit family sprung on me and up until now ive had no wifi, and im unlikely to get any more until tuesday. when i get home, i can jump back into the IC. im so so sorry about this, go ahead without me but this is still alive!
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