Voltus_Ventus

Voltus' One on One Search Thing

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The Sun Will Never Set (A Statisticless NRP)(It had a good run)

Alright, my spankin bankin new keyboard is here and working fine! Post will hopefully be up sooner than originally anticipated!

@Skepic

Yay!

The Sandy Rose Saloon

At the mention of an outlaw being present in the room, Archie decided to not touch his drink yet, he'd need to be as sober as he could be to estimate a coffin size. He smiled, that man was as good as dead and he couldn't wait to get to work on another coffin, the state would pay handsomely for this bastard but slowly his smile drooped into a frown, the bounty was dead or alive. He'd make nothing if that man walked out alive.

At that moment his mind was a flurry of thoughts and planning and scheming and finally it settled on a number, 'This man is wanted for 10,000 dollars...' Archie had come to a conclusion, this man was to be his. Unfortunately had had not brought his gun with him. He looked around then down at his drink, turing to the sheriff he asked her a question, "Miss? Would you mind watching my drink? If I come back and it's here, I'll get you one just like it." he didn't wait for an answer, he knew the sheriff would save it, or at least hoped.

He got off his seat and called over to Rose, "I'll be right back, just forgot my money." he lied but didn't know anything else he could say to excuse him. He stepped out into the early desert evening and began running to his workshop.

Who Wants To Go On An Adventure!!! (FULL)

@Kimiyosis Eh, this is dead any way, no use making a post now.

The Sandy Rose Saloon

Archie leaned close to the sheriff and spoke, "I don't think quaint is the right word to describe this place.." He let his eyes roam around. A drunk man was being pulled by the wrist up a flight of stairs, entranced by the bottom of a fair employee and in the corner of the saloon it appeared as if two groups were wagering on a rat fight, "I think I'd say it's lively."

As he finished his sentence, the patron of the saloon swaggered over to him and he gave her an over exaggerated slowly drag over her, before stopping at her face and giving her a cheeky smile. "Rum, my darling." he said, patting the thick wad of money that bulged in the front of his coat, "with Ice." He knew there was some, there always was some but most people were hesitant to hand over there precious frozen water but with the amount in his pocket, he knew he could afford to cool down for once.

"Please tell me you're playing 'Go Fish' I do adore a spot of go fish," he turned his head to the man with the cards and gave him a nod, "so is it 'Go Fish?'" he asked.

The Sun Will Never Set (A Statisticless NRP)(It had a good run)

Upon stepping down the mobile stairs that lead from the boarding hatch to the ground, Voltus found himself thronged by a growing mass of staff, nobles and their entourage. They all wore robes and gowns of splendid silks, oven it them gold thread and bejeweled around cuffs and collars. Voltus felt slightly sick, he wasn't sure why they would waste so much on such expensive clothes, when a simple coat would so. As they took the steps down, Voltus wrapped his wife's long plaits loosely around his arm, carrying it like a servant would carry a towel over one arm. Voltus leaned down to his wife, adjusting the parasol.

"Muzhchiny zdes', gde bol'she yuvelirnyye izdeliya, to vy." he quipped, making her let out a giggle. Once at the bottom, Voltus was thankful to see his own royal guard spill out of a service hatch on the lower levels of the zeppelin, he spotted their flashing white trench coats and glinting silvered guns from the corner of his eye. There were Twenty-Six of them in total, each one brandishing a glinting submachine guns and wearing elektrum steel plates under their flapping coats. These men were hand picked by Voltus, taken fromm the best of the best graduates, from the best military academies from across the nation. Though there were more then Twenty-Six on board the ship, they were auxiliary, they guarded the ship incase a hasty take off were needed or would rush out if added men were required.

With them, Voltus spotted the the looming form of his mechanical steed, being walked towards the royal pair, Chien padding along briskly, her metal parts glinting from their recent polish. The nobles seemed a bit flustered to see so many guards anreven the temple guard seemed to stand to attention more, Voltus merely smiled. His guard stopped suddenly and saluted their sovereign before one of them detached and walked the horse over to them, handing the reins to his Tsar and returning to the line with a nod of gratitude from Voltus.

Voltus spotted the transportation that was waiting for them there, a gilded carriage, a host of white steeds, a heavily decorated camel; none caught his fancy. He preferred to ride his mech-horse but concerned for his wife and the heat, he decided to have her ride it. The Tsar picked up Marie, much to her delight and deposited her on the worn leather saddle of the horse, she deftly slipped her her feet into the stirrups and took the reigns with a practiced grip. The royal guard formed two ranks around them, two columns of thirteen men and women on either side, standing in pairs apart from the commanders in front, leading their group. Voltus handed the parasol up to the Tsarina and she took it with no objection, holding it over her shoulder and shielding herself from the sun; Voltus shifted his wife's loosely coiled hair up to his shoulder, making sure she wasn't being tugged before he started talking. He heard an audible gasp come from the congregation of nobles, it seemed that a king walking was a foreign idea to them.

As the column marched, a spindly robbed man with thick circular glasses scurried in-between the two guard groups, warranting stares and hands poised on the safety switches. The royal guard were extremely loyal and extremely protective. The bespectacled bowed deeply and walked backwards, Voltus was impressed, that must have been hard to do.

"Your Majesty," he uttered, not making eye contact, "Would you not find it more to your liking on a carriage?" clearly he was panicked, as if Voltus was suppose to be in the carriage, Voltus shook his head.

"Your Ventian is good," said Voltus casually, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief, "Where did you study?"

"Universitet Verveaux, Kollazh yazyka^[1]," Replied the man hastily as nobles started giving him angry looks, "bu-" Voltus cut him off.

"What did you major in, Mr...?" Voltus dragged out the sentence, hoping for a name to find itself attached to it when the bespectacled man spoke.

"Kheshin, Prose." the bespectacled man had given up and started to leave the column, looking down as he approached the seating nobles, Voltus smiled at him.

"I'm not done speaking with you, Mr Kheshin." called out Voltus, making the man stop in his tracks and turn around, "Come, tell me a little about yourself." With obvious relief, Kheshin returned, much to the disdain of the nobles. The pair spent the rest of the walk talking amongst one another, Voltus learned that scholarships were few and far between in Tin, explaining how the man knew how to speak Ventian so well; most were too poor to send their children aboard and nobles didn't consider a formal eduction important, leaving only a few to be sent abroad on government money to learn and return. As they came up to the door Voltus shook the man's hand firmly, "It was a pleasure, I hope to see you at the meeting." Voltus gave the man a small bow, making him jump in his place, "until then." Voltus entered through the doors he was lead to, leaving Kheshin to be thronged by the mass of nobles, all hoping to get on his good side after seeing him being friendly with a King.

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Voltus felt the need to vomit.

The room was heavily comfortable, with heavy, substantial furniture, it made him sick - Physically so. He swayed violently and had to grab onto his wife to stay up, despite her small frame she hefted him up with ease.

"What the fuck are these people doing..?" he mumbled to himself, looking over the room again there was a chandelier bigger then that in his ballroom dangling in the center, above a large circular bath, he sniffed the air, "Is that bath filled wit rose water?!" His wife took a sniff of the air and nodded. Voltus detached himself from his wife and wandered over to the bed, it was silk, his bedsheets were linen, the pillows were full of fox tails, his were full of goose down. "I think I'll be sleeping on the floor.." he mumbled.

The Sandy Rose Saloon

I think that Archie would hold the sheriff in high regard, dragging in dead bodies for him to make coffins for.

The Sandy Rose Saloon

I think I'll make a post when hoppi does because at the moment I don't know how much content I can squeeze if I tried to reply to the Sheriff.

The Sandy Rose Saloon

His eyes were locked on the line of evenly spaced tacks, holding the velvet interior tight and crisp against the dark wood of the casket. Archie took another tack from his mouth and gently tapped it into place with a small headed hammer; he looked at the line again and cracked a grin, 'finished.' He rose from his crouched position and spat the remaining tacks into an empty tin can that sat on a nearby table.

Archie took a moment to admire his handy work, it was a casket for a small teenage girl, daughter of some cattle baron or something along those lines. It was a beauty, blackwood body with brass inlays and white velvet upholstery. He closed the lid and clicked the latches at the bottom of the trestle table and pushed it to the far end of his workshop where a large pair of double doors stood open to the rose desert sunset. Outside awaited a carriage surrounded by the baron's men, without a word they lifted the slate bottomed box and loaded it into the back of their carriage. A man approached, beefy and tall but with downcast eyes.

"Thank'ya Mr, it's a perdy coffin you dun made for my sister." that compliment would do and Archibald was ready to accept his payment, "but about the money.." He grimaced, another person who couldn't pay and thought that they could appeal to Archie's charitable nature, Archie was about to speak when the beefy man spoke again, "I can only pay half right now, I reckn' that the rest can be here by next week at the latest." He slipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a thick wad of dollars. Archibald's eyes lit up.

"This will do for the meantime my good man," he said, taking the money and slipping it into his waist coat, "and my condolences." Without hesitation Archie turned around and shut the large back doors, leaving the beefy man with words at the tip of his tongue that would never be said. Arch knew just where to spend his money, he slipped on his coat and smiled.

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"Madam Rose!" he cried out as he burst through the swinging doors of the saloon, "I have come with money and a thirst for your fine beverages!" He shunked himself into a seat beside the sheriff , "Madam Charlotte! Always a pleasure!"

The Sandy Rose Saloon

Archibald

NAME: Archibald "Archie" Hersker

AGE: 28 (Up Coming 29th Birthday)

GENDER: Male

OCCUPATION: Undertaker/Mortician

BIO: Born back east, Archie was raised in a family of critically acclaimed coffin makers and morticians, The Herskers. Known nationally and far abroad as the makers of quality caskets, coffins, shrouds and urns. From a young age Archie had grown hand in hand with death, he saw bodies come in and out of his father's workshop, going to the adjoined morgue to be embalmed, explaining why he always smelt like chemicals as a child. However once he became 13, he was brought into family business proper and went about proving himself as a master at shaping wood; more and more people came in asking for his workmanship and he gladly made their caskets. However people suddenly stopped coming to him after finding out he had no formal education in the field of carpentry. He took two years off to train as an apprentice in the Boston Guild of Carpenters, got a fellowship and graduated with honors, though upon coming home, he found his position taken. In a flurry of yells and finger pointing, he packed up his bags with his tools and his money and he stormed out of the Hersker estate, this was when he was 20.

He spent two more years of his life working freelance, slowly but surely - and unwittingly - going further and further west, until one day he found himself in Sand Flats, a descent enough town. But he noticed it was missing something, well two things, a hospital and and a mortician. He smiled to himself and bought a plot (plot 8) and has been happily working there for coming up 7 years now, making coffins and caskets for dead citizens and downed outlaws alike.

Though he has made himself comfortable in the dusty town, he is somewhat out of place, too well mannered, too clean looking; he attracts a lot of attention walking through town, "that city slicker..." he hears mumbled behind his back or, "that odd feller." he hates it, but he has to live with it.

PERSONALITY: For being in the line of work he is in, he's a rather chipper individual, not the constantly depressed downer one would expect to be a mortician. If met in the middle of the street he often gives a smile or tips a hit, giving polite greetings and 'how do ya do's. Apart from that he's a charismatic individual, his big city way of talking and flawless smile making woman swoon, he enjoys doing so but never found the opportune moment to get hitched to a lady. He also loves being sarcastic, he doesn't even need to talk to be so, usually playfully obnoxious in his mannerisms, one can't help smiling when he does something backhanded. Though he is approachable most of the time, when provoked enough his mood shifts violently.

TALENTS:
- Carpentry, it's part of the job.
- Sewing, someone's gotta make the interiors.
- Sizing People Up, whether they be dead or alive.
- Persuasion, his devilish charm doesn't just work on the ladies.
- Melee Weapons, years of using hammer.
- Keeps calm, except when he's not calm.
- AMAZING COOK.

FLAWS:
- Inept with long-arms, slightly better with handguns.
- Violent mood-swings.
- Can sometimes be cocky and accept stupid bets.
- Fairly selfish.
- Sensitive eyes, sudden flashes don't go well with him.