Half PintI'm pretty certain that you can't cut your leg off for just a year
Mr_pink Member
Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
STATUS: Elope with me Miss Private and we'll drink ourselves awake 10 yrs ago
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10 yrs ago
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Elope with me Miss Private and we'll drink ourselves awake
11 yrs ago
Ah Nu Checki Brecki I v Damke
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If my Skyrim thread overtakes mdk’s thread, I’ll cut off my leg for a year
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Spam Forum
A cigar's light lit up the darkness of the night and it's smoked snaked through the air escaping into the night sky as Logan made his way into a small pub. He was by no means a regular here at the 'Broken Glass' as it was called, but his face had been seen once or twice in the past week at the pub. The old wood of the floor creaked because of the extra weight of Logan's skeleton as he made his way across to the bartender. He ordered a pint of beer, and began to slowly drink from it when it arrived. It wasn't long before trouble stirred up though, trouble seemed to follow Logan like a bad smell.
Some local hicks had thought it was a great idea to try and pick a fight with Logan, obviously thinking that their number difference would give them the advantage over such a short, normal guy right? Wrong. Logan obviously wouldn't kill the men, they weren't exactly guilty of anything except being dickheads. He would, however, break a few bones. He cracked his metallic knuckles, and turned to the men as they slung mindless insults at him. He eventually interrupted them.
"Are you fucks gonna talk all night, or are you going to fight?" His voice was a low growl, the men just seemed to look at each other and laugh before readying into fighting positions. Logan rose from his chair, his thumbs hooked into his belt as he waited for a punch to come his way. When it did, it came from the left, Logan ducked to his right, grabbed the arm and chucked the owner of said arm across the pub and onto a table sitting against a wall. The next punch came from his right, Logan weaved under it and sent a literal rib-cracking punch into the chest of the guy. Logan then turned and done a sort of dempsey roll, dodging the swings coming from his opponent and sending punches to his opponents blindside. Of course, the man fell rather quickly.
Logan stood in the centre of the pub, the two unconscious bodies beside him and another sleeping on the top of a rather dirty table. He pulled his cigar holder from his pocket before pulling a cigar from said holder. He raised his lighter to his mouth as he lit it before turning to meet a shotgun to his face.
"Just get out, I don't want trouble in this pub so just leave if you want to keep your face" Said the bartender. Logan just grinned, shaking his head. He picked his jacket up and left the pub safe in the knowledge that a shotgun posed as much threat to him in the long term as a water gun did.
As he exited the pub, he was met with a rather weirdly proportioned, lanky man who tried to get his attention as Logan began to walk on his way. Logan was under the impression that the tall weirdo would leave him alone if he just ignored him. He realized this wasn't the case and turned and finally answered the man. As it turned out, S.H.I.E.L.D wanted him to come to something called a helicarrier. He'd probably have been glad if he knew who S.H.I.E.L.D was.
The Next Day
Logan looked out of the window of the rather high-tec plane he was being flown to the 'helicarrier' on. He hated planes. Not heights or anything, just planes. He didn't understand them, how could something so massive and so heavy fly? And, for that matter, how did helicopters fly? It wasn't worth thinking about to be honest and Logan was more set on finding out why he was being taken to a 'helicarrier'.
He was guided by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent through the hanger and into an auditorium in which a group of teenagers and what seemed to be someone of military status inside the auditorium. Logan was surprised to also receive a salute from the two guards who, unbeknownst to him, had been briefed on Logan's rank and his rather....short temper. To tell the truth he probably wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been saluted, he was more focused on finding out why he was here and why he was in a room filled mostly with teenagers. His mind drifted back to 'Kindergarden Cop' and he shuddered with dread. He thought he'd at least try to be civil though and he made his way over to the group, his thumbs hooked into his belt. He pulled a cigar from his holder, but he was quickly informed by a guard that smoking was not prohibited in the auditorium. Logan grimaced at the guard, sliding it back into his holder and stuffing it into his back pocket. He turned to the group.
"Pretty official, this, eh?" He looked up to the ceiling of the auditorium and then back to the group.
"Does anyone actually know why we're here then?"
Some local hicks had thought it was a great idea to try and pick a fight with Logan, obviously thinking that their number difference would give them the advantage over such a short, normal guy right? Wrong. Logan obviously wouldn't kill the men, they weren't exactly guilty of anything except being dickheads. He would, however, break a few bones. He cracked his metallic knuckles, and turned to the men as they slung mindless insults at him. He eventually interrupted them.
"Are you fucks gonna talk all night, or are you going to fight?" His voice was a low growl, the men just seemed to look at each other and laugh before readying into fighting positions. Logan rose from his chair, his thumbs hooked into his belt as he waited for a punch to come his way. When it did, it came from the left, Logan ducked to his right, grabbed the arm and chucked the owner of said arm across the pub and onto a table sitting against a wall. The next punch came from his right, Logan weaved under it and sent a literal rib-cracking punch into the chest of the guy. Logan then turned and done a sort of dempsey roll, dodging the swings coming from his opponent and sending punches to his opponents blindside. Of course, the man fell rather quickly.
Logan stood in the centre of the pub, the two unconscious bodies beside him and another sleeping on the top of a rather dirty table. He pulled his cigar holder from his pocket before pulling a cigar from said holder. He raised his lighter to his mouth as he lit it before turning to meet a shotgun to his face.
"Just get out, I don't want trouble in this pub so just leave if you want to keep your face" Said the bartender. Logan just grinned, shaking his head. He picked his jacket up and left the pub safe in the knowledge that a shotgun posed as much threat to him in the long term as a water gun did.
As he exited the pub, he was met with a rather weirdly proportioned, lanky man who tried to get his attention as Logan began to walk on his way. Logan was under the impression that the tall weirdo would leave him alone if he just ignored him. He realized this wasn't the case and turned and finally answered the man. As it turned out, S.H.I.E.L.D wanted him to come to something called a helicarrier. He'd probably have been glad if he knew who S.H.I.E.L.D was.
The Next Day
Logan looked out of the window of the rather high-tec plane he was being flown to the 'helicarrier' on. He hated planes. Not heights or anything, just planes. He didn't understand them, how could something so massive and so heavy fly? And, for that matter, how did helicopters fly? It wasn't worth thinking about to be honest and Logan was more set on finding out why he was being taken to a 'helicarrier'.
He was guided by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent through the hanger and into an auditorium in which a group of teenagers and what seemed to be someone of military status inside the auditorium. Logan was surprised to also receive a salute from the two guards who, unbeknownst to him, had been briefed on Logan's rank and his rather....short temper. To tell the truth he probably wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been saluted, he was more focused on finding out why he was here and why he was in a room filled mostly with teenagers. His mind drifted back to 'Kindergarden Cop' and he shuddered with dread. He thought he'd at least try to be civil though and he made his way over to the group, his thumbs hooked into his belt. He pulled a cigar from his holder, but he was quickly informed by a guard that smoking was not prohibited in the auditorium. Logan grimaced at the guard, sliding it back into his holder and stuffing it into his back pocket. He turned to the group.
"Pretty official, this, eh?" He looked up to the ceiling of the auditorium and then back to the group.
"Does anyone actually know why we're here then?"
Changed my appearance to a shopped image of Danzig btw
Too much hype for that IC
Pete nodded to Rose as she spoke, picking up his drink and sipping it as the man explained his predicament. He seemed to be a drifter of sorts, it reminded Pete of himself back in his gambling days.
"Well, I can only hope you don't cause trouble, friend" He took a swig of his drink, turning to the new poncho wearing man entering. He was certain he had met this guy before. He thought back to the past few months. It took him a bit, but he finally got it, this was that bounty hunter who came into Salt Flats every now and then. He was a pretty reliable fella as Pete remembered, not one much for talking though. He gave him a small half wave as he sat down.
It wasn't long until another lady entered the saloon. Pete squinted to see who it was and was rather surprised to see it was the sheriff of all people. He could hardly believe it, she never seemed like the drinking type, much less the one to wear a dress as...girly as that. He turned back to his drink, taking a gulp. He didn't exactly like getting drunk around the person basically in charge of his payroll, the last sheriff hardly ever drunk so Pete was free to get drunk as much as he liked but this was different, he could make a fool of himself and end up getting a smaller paycheck because of 'incompetence'. He looked to the bounty hunter, he had taken out a pack of cards and seemed to be playing solitaire or a game similar to it. Pete grinned, he may have been able to win some money off the hunter later on in the night.
Shortly after, the now drunk stranger ordered a round for everyone. Pete wasn't one to argue against free booze but he did feel a twinge of guilt about taking what was basically free money from a drunk bloke. Rose mentioned the fact that most of the people at the bar were, in fact, new to the town and that introductions were necessary. He decided to get the introductions started after finishing off his first bourbon and moving onto the second.
"Oh you know me, Rose, Pete the dashing deputy ladykiller with a penchant for sciencey type books" He joked, adding a rather posh accent to the last part of the sentence.
"Well, I can only hope you don't cause trouble, friend" He took a swig of his drink, turning to the new poncho wearing man entering. He was certain he had met this guy before. He thought back to the past few months. It took him a bit, but he finally got it, this was that bounty hunter who came into Salt Flats every now and then. He was a pretty reliable fella as Pete remembered, not one much for talking though. He gave him a small half wave as he sat down.
It wasn't long until another lady entered the saloon. Pete squinted to see who it was and was rather surprised to see it was the sheriff of all people. He could hardly believe it, she never seemed like the drinking type, much less the one to wear a dress as...girly as that. He turned back to his drink, taking a gulp. He didn't exactly like getting drunk around the person basically in charge of his payroll, the last sheriff hardly ever drunk so Pete was free to get drunk as much as he liked but this was different, he could make a fool of himself and end up getting a smaller paycheck because of 'incompetence'. He looked to the bounty hunter, he had taken out a pack of cards and seemed to be playing solitaire or a game similar to it. Pete grinned, he may have been able to win some money off the hunter later on in the night.
Shortly after, the now drunk stranger ordered a round for everyone. Pete wasn't one to argue against free booze but he did feel a twinge of guilt about taking what was basically free money from a drunk bloke. Rose mentioned the fact that most of the people at the bar were, in fact, new to the town and that introductions were necessary. He decided to get the introductions started after finishing off his first bourbon and moving onto the second.
"Oh you know me, Rose, Pete the dashing deputy ladykiller with a penchant for sciencey type books" He joked, adding a rather posh accent to the last part of the sentence.
Posted!
Pete sat half asleep, his hat angled over his eyes in order to keep out any sunlight streaming in through the small windows of the sheriffs office. It had only been a few weeks since the new sheriff had come into her position. Or months. Time flies by quickly when you've got a drink in you just about every night. Pete didn't really have a lot of prejudice towards the new sheriff being a woman. Back on the farm where he grew up his mother done the same jobs as the boys did and she wasn't exactly the type to take any flak from Pete's father either. To be honest, he was more concerned about the lack of action in the town recently. Hardly anything had happened since the bandit attack that the new sheriff, Charlotte had dealt with. Pete hadn't really talked that much to Charlotte, he was sleeping or doing actual work around the town most of the time, so there was little time for conversing.
Pete leaned forward in his chair, moving his hat upwards and rubbing his eyes. His eyes fluttered open to the dim, dark surroundings of the sheriffs office. The town drunk sat sleeping in a cell to the left of Pete. Pete rose from his chair and took the keys from a small hook on the wall before fiddling around to find the right key and unlocking the cell.
"Alright, on your horse, Jack. We'll need this cell for when you get into another bar brawl tonight" He grinned, happy with his joke. His grin faded when he saw that Jack was not getting up. He sighed, leaning down and forcefully grabbing him by the arm before practically dragging the babbling fool out of the door before throwing him to the sand outside of the office.
He headed back inside of the office and retrieved his revolver. His eyes glanced to his mare's leg rifle hanging on a small gun rack on the wall. He hadn't used or done proper maintenance on it in a while, he'd need to fix that later. He made his way out into the town of Salt Flats, observing the area. It seemed Rose was setting up shop for the night and a rather uncouth individual was making his way into the saloon. Pete followed him in. Pete sat at the bar speaking after the man who seemed to be in quite the rush.
"A bourbon for me, Rose" He turned to Johnny, who, unbeknownst to Pete, was actually a wanted criminal.
"What's the rush, friend" He spoke.
Pete leaned forward in his chair, moving his hat upwards and rubbing his eyes. His eyes fluttered open to the dim, dark surroundings of the sheriffs office. The town drunk sat sleeping in a cell to the left of Pete. Pete rose from his chair and took the keys from a small hook on the wall before fiddling around to find the right key and unlocking the cell.
"Alright, on your horse, Jack. We'll need this cell for when you get into another bar brawl tonight" He grinned, happy with his joke. His grin faded when he saw that Jack was not getting up. He sighed, leaning down and forcefully grabbing him by the arm before practically dragging the babbling fool out of the door before throwing him to the sand outside of the office.
He headed back inside of the office and retrieved his revolver. His eyes glanced to his mare's leg rifle hanging on a small gun rack on the wall. He hadn't used or done proper maintenance on it in a while, he'd need to fix that later. He made his way out into the town of Salt Flats, observing the area. It seemed Rose was setting up shop for the night and a rather uncouth individual was making his way into the saloon. Pete followed him in. Pete sat at the bar speaking after the man who seemed to be in quite the rush.
"A bourbon for me, Rose" He turned to Johnny, who, unbeknownst to Pete, was actually a wanted criminal.
"What's the rush, friend" He spoke.
NAME: Peter 'Pete' Bly
AGE: 32
GENDER: male
OCCUPATION: Former professional Gambler/duelist, Currently a deputy.
BIO:
Pete was born to a family of farmers. His early life was much less than exciting and to be frank, he hated it. His uncle was a sheriff in a nearby town and would often come and visit the family and regale Pete with his tales of justice. Suffice to say, when Pete had earned enough money from doing other jobs outside of farm work, he quickly abandoned the place and began to drift from town to town. He discovered he had a panache for gambling and card games. He began gaining a reputation as a 'master gambler' and would often rake in a large amount of cash at every town he went to. He of course made quite the list of enemies just by winning. Life was getting more and more dangerous for Pete, with more and more men coming to try and hunt him down to regain their losses. He sought out a former duelist whom he had gambled with in the past. The duelist agreed to train Pete how to shoot in exchange for a rather large sum of cash. A small price to pay for your life. As it turned out, Pete was quite a prodigy in dueling. He began to gun down people hunting them like they were targets and grew quite a reputation as a duelist. It was around his mid to late 20s that he decided that it wasn't really the life for him. He travelled Sand Flats and gained the job of a deputy for the sheriff and has worked as one since then. He regularly holds gambling nights at the local saloon, for a much lesser sum than his previous gambling days though of course.
PERSONALITY: TBR
TALENTS:
-Gambling
-Dueling
-Rifle shooting
-Drinking
-Not bad at the violin
FLAWS:
-Not the greatest horse rider
-Probably the worst dancer you'd ever see
NAME: Peter 'Pete' Bly
AGE: 32
GENDER: male
OCCUPATION: Former professional Gambler/duelist, Currently a deputy.
BIO:
Pete was born to a family of farmers. His early life was much less than exciting and to be frank, he hated it. His uncle was a sheriff in a nearby town and would often come and visit the family and regale Pete with his tales of justice. Suffice to say, when Pete had earned enough money from doing other jobs outside of farm work, he quickly abandoned the place and began to drift from town to town. He discovered he had a panache for gambling and card games. He began gaining a reputation as a 'master gambler' and would often rake in a large amount of cash at every town he went to. He of course made quite the list of enemies just by winning. Life was getting more and more dangerous for Pete, with more and more men coming to try and hunt him down to regain their losses. He sought out a former duelist whom he had gambled with in the past. The duelist agreed to train Pete how to shoot in exchange for a rather large sum of cash. A small price to pay for your life. As it turned out, Pete was quite a prodigy in dueling. He began to gun down people hunting them like they were targets and grew quite a reputation as a duelist. It was around his mid to late 20s that he decided that it wasn't really the life for him. He travelled Sand Flats and gained the job of a deputy for the sheriff and has worked as one since then. He regularly holds gambling nights at the local saloon, for a much lesser sum than his previous gambling days though of course.
PERSONALITY: TBR
TALENTS:
-Gambling
-Dueling
-Rifle shooting
-Drinking
-Not bad at the violin
FLAWS:
-Not the greatest horse rider
-Probably the worst dancer you'd ever see
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