Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

Back Alive or Maybe Dead [Quest]

Collapse
X
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • Both Barrels!!!


    I post Artifacts in this thread. How I make them is in this thread.
    I have made many tools and other things for 3rd Edition. I now host all of my creations on my Google site: The Vault of the Unsung Hero

    Comment


    • I am thinking we duck out of the way at the last second and burn them both.


      Thoughts ripple out, birthing others

      Comment


      • Originally posted by The Unsung Hero View Post
        Both Barrels!!!
        (At who? Loco?)


        On the frontier of the Wild South, there's only one woman with the grit to take on its most dangerous outlaws and bring them Back Alive, or Maybe Dead.

        Avatar by K.S. Brenowitz

        Comment


        • Originally posted by semicasual View Post
          (At who? Loco?)
          Sorry missed the twin option, yes Loco.


          I post Artifacts in this thread. How I make them is in this thread.
          I have made many tools and other things for 3rd Edition. I now host all of my creations on my Google site: The Vault of the Unsung Hero

          Comment



          • She took a breath, turned, and fired a double-blast at Loco Lu Si, pouring all her passion into the shot.

            The Ranger's familiar burning aura ignited along with her flamepieces. Gold and cobalt halos of fire ringed the tips of her barrels, then burst into flaming wings that sped along the jet of hot dust flying at Loco.

            The speed of the Ranger's attack seemed to take Loco completely by surprise as she was almost instantly engulfed in flame. She screamed and fell back.

            The Ranger returned her attention to Em just in time to see the one-eyed bandit's huge club coming down at her. She ducked out of the way, but the great bone still clipped her with enough force to send her spinning off her feet. The Ranger hit the ground, winded, and tried to get up. But just then, a wave of black dust blew over her, blinding her to everything.

            Now, let me just pull back a bit - I don't want you to think everyone else was just twiddling their thumbs. They were too busy fighting the deadhulk.

            I told you about their rough start. The posse started on the defensive, unwilling to risk getting stomped on or gored, but things turned around while Loco was otherwise occupied. Then Gaze-of-the-Sun created an opening when she winged a firebird at the deadhulk. The spell exploded against the side of the deadhulk's head, and it stumbled.

            Seres was first to take advantage. She rushed at it from the side and leaped at it. In midair, she pulled back her right arm, and the bangle on her wrist began crackling with energy. Sere's fist slammed into a skull with a noise like a thunderclap. That skull shattered, and the deadhulk fell further off-balance.

            Lans, on the other side of the beast, made his play. Mist trailed behind him as he stepped forward and slashed at the deadhulk's hind leg. The blade cut clear through what might have been the beast's ankle, nearly severing it completely. That was enough to make it topple over while Lans jumped out of the way.

            Then it was on the ground, and Serge was the first to go for the kill. He grabbed one skull by the horns, tore it off the mess of bones that constituted the deadhulk's head, and began punching into the gap he'd made with his claws.

            "DON'T LET IT GET UP! KEEP HITTING IT!" he screamed to the others, but they didn't need prompting. Seres and Lans both tore into the deadhulk, breaking bones and chopping at burning, black, gelatinous flesh. The beast vainly thrashed on the ground. Under the posse's combined onslaught, its violent movements grew weaker, and then entirely ceased.

            Around the same time the Ranger sent a double-barreled blast at Loco, Seres paused to ask "Is it dead?"

            She hadn't quite finished the question when the deadhulk exploded. The gold fire licking over its body was suddenly snuffed out as the blackness inside burst to the outside. Bones were flung in all directions. The posse members were knocked down or dove for cover, and a cloud of darkness covered them all.

            Now, going back to the Ranger... we left her lying in the dark, blind as a bat. It was quiet, especially considering the battle she'd been in seconds ago. She tried to sit up, and couldn't quite do it. She rolled over onto her side and her face contorted into a mask of pain. The scratch on her chest, combined with whatever new bruises Em had given her, was taking its toll. Despite that, she forced herself onto her feet and looked around.

            Nothing. She couldn't make out anything. In fact, she had to keep blinking grit out of her yes, and she found herself more thankful thank usual for the mask covering her nose and mouth. She tried walking forward, stepping carefully, listening.

            No one called out. And she wouldn't call out herself. So, without any guidance, she just kept moving.

            It felt like the burning from her cut had spread up and down her body. She felt warm, and it wasn't the warm of her own fiery energy. Once, she stepped on something round - a rib? - and nearly fell flat on her face. Righting herself made her feel dizzier than before.

            Then the black smog started to clear. The Ranger took her bearings through bleary eyes, and found that she'd wandered in the direction of the burial mounds. She saw a human figure walking towards her through the dark and she instinctively raised her flamepieces.

            The figure stopped, then started jogging. "Mistress Ash?" it called in Bo's voice. "Are you well? Is the fight over?"

            The Ranger blinked, wondering how she could answer. Then she took one step forward, fell to one knee, and collapsed onto the dirt.

            When she came to, she was standing up in a familiar dark room. The chandelier seemed dimmer than before. The foodstuffs and bottles had been cleared away.
            • The Gentleman sat at the table alone, with his back to her.
            • Stitch-Eyes sat on the opposite side of the table. The Gentleman was nowhere to be seen.
            • Now there were six chairs, four of them filled by Seres, Lans, Serge, and Gaze.
            • Something else?
            Last edited by semicasual; 12-14-2017, 02:12 PM.


            On the frontier of the Wild South, there's only one woman with the grit to take on its most dangerous outlaws and bring them Back Alive, or Maybe Dead.

            Avatar by K.S. Brenowitz

            Comment


            • Stitch-eyes sat at the table! Let's have us a one on one!


              I post Artifacts in this thread. How I make them is in this thread.
              I have made many tools and other things for 3rd Edition. I now host all of my creations on my Google site: The Vault of the Unsung Hero

              Comment


              • Stitch-Eyes sat on the opposite side of the table. The Gentleman was nowhere to be seen.

                Comment


                • Now there was six chairs, four of them filled by our posse


                  Thoughts ripple out, birthing others

                  Comment


                  • "Now there were six chairs, four of them filled by Seres, Lans, Serge, and Gaze."

                    Yeah, I'm a sucker for this kind of creepy :3


                    The artist behind the quests From Out of a Dream (complete) and Back Alive, or Maybe Dead (running!). Go give a read and make your choice!

                    Comment


                    • Stitch-Eyes sat on the opposite side of the table. The Gentleman was nowhere to be seen.

                      He did not look up, but he spoke almost as soon as she became aware of his presence. "Huh," he grunted. "Back for more, seƱora?" He had rows of cards laid out before him, and he moved cards from one row to the next as he spoke. "The old man stepped out. It's just you and me, now."

                      He hummed to himself and swept up a row of cards into a pile on the side. The Ranger wondered how he could tell what the cards showed.

                      "It's a dream, red," said Stitch-Eyes, as if he'd heard her thoughts. "I can still see in my dreams."

                      He looked up at her and tilted his hat back. His eyes, un-stitched, un-mutilated, were a soft, pale blue. He'd have been handsome if it weren't for the deep frown on his face.

                      The Ranger looked back at him in silence.

                      "What?" he demanded. "Did ya think I was always like this? Por los dioses, no. It was a long hard road to get here." He returned his attention to the table and moved a couple cards. "Started before I was born, when the Dogwood family's founder, Anse, killed my grandpa's friend Jae. And then his wife and her family ran their cattle through our fields, and my uncle was shot in the back during a raid... and things kept on like that for years. Blood debt kept on growing, until finally I decided to collect."

                      He moved a few more cards, smiled, and swept up a whole row into a stack on the side. "By the law, I was going to hang. Won't deny it. Don't regret it, either. I had my pride, but marshals don't care about that." He picked up a card and pointed at the Ranger with it. "Neither do vigilantes.


                      They decided hanging wasn't good enough. They wanted to 'teach a lesson', which is self-righteous bullshit-talk for 'we want ya to hurt.' So they decided to take my eyes, leave me to bleed out, and then hang me."

                      The Ranger grimaced, less because she was disturbed by the story and more because Stitch-Eyes was still smiling.

                      "I would've died then, but the old man got to me first. He agreed I wasn't treated fair, and offered me a chance to balance the scales. I accepted.

                      When I was done killing them, I swore nobody - nobody - would ever decide my life for me again. I would go my own way, and to hell with anyone who tried to stop me."

                      The Ranger snorted, and Stitch-Eyes' smile went away.

                      "For a mute, yer awful mouthy. What gives ya the right to judge? Yer running around, burning anyone ya think is 'evil', and ya think that makes ya good? There's no such thing, red. No right or wrong, just power, and the privilege that power gets ya."

                      He threw down the card he was holding and stood up. "Ya've taken something that should be mine, 'Ranger'. Seems like yer determined to get in my way, and I won't stand for it." He started walking around the table towards her, but stopped when they were still a few arm lengths apart. "I will have the tower, and I will step over your corpse to get it. Depend on it."
                      • The Ranger expressed her disagreement by pulling Judgement from her hip and firing from point-blank.
                      • The Ranger sniffed and walked away.
                      • The Ranger gritted her teeth, shut her eyes, and willed herself to leave the dream.
                      • Something else?
                      Last edited by semicasual; 12-21-2017, 02:50 PM.


                      On the frontier of the Wild South, there's only one woman with the grit to take on its most dangerous outlaws and bring them Back Alive, or Maybe Dead.

                      Avatar by K.S. Brenowitz

                      Comment


                      • The Ranger merely raised an eyebrow, shook her head and picked up her cards.
                        We all got a sob story, but we don't keep hurting folks after the wrongs have been addressed. Good and evil don't exist objectively, folks make them real.


                        Thoughts ripple out, birthing others

                        Comment


                        • Originally posted by FallenEco View Post
                          The Ranger merely raised an eyebrow, shook her head and picked up her cards.
                          We all got a sob story, but we don't keep hurting folks after the wrongs have been addressed. Good and evil don't exist objectively, folks make them real.
                          This right here gets my vote.


                          I post Artifacts in this thread. How I make them is in this thread.
                          I have made many tools and other things for 3rd Edition. I now host all of my creations on my Google site: The Vault of the Unsung Hero

                          Comment


                          • Originally posted by FallenEco View Post
                            The Ranger merely raised an eyebrow, shook her head and picked up her cards.
                            We all got a sob story, but we don't keep hurting folks after the wrongs have been addressed. Good and evil don't exist objectively, folks make them real.
                            I like this choice.

                            Comment


                            • The Ranger merely raised an eyebrow, shook her head and picked up her cards.

                              She didn't remember sitting down at the table. She didn't remember having cards in front of her. But now she was, and there they were - and she frowned, because it was that hand again. Two black aces, two black eights, and...

                              ...and something that wasn't a playing card at all. It had no markings she could read - it looked like a fortune-teller's card, with an elaborate painting instead of signs and numbers. The image on its face showed something shaped like a tower, but made of some kind of greenish, vaguely reflective material that reminded her of beetle shells. The tower sat on a background that looked like a desert plain at night. Countless bright stars shone above it - in fact, it seemed like the stars were streaming into the top of the tower. Or perhaps they were streaming out?...

                              Before she could examine the card further, a pale hand reached down and pulled it from her grasp. "I said, that's mine!" barked Stitch-Eyes, just behind her. She turned to look at him and saw him turning the tower-card over in his hands.

                              "You don't even know what this is, do you?" Stitch-Eyes asked, rhetorically. "No, of course you don't. Nobody does. Even the old man doesn't know where it came from. But it's a weapon like no other, and I will have it."

                              He let go of the card. But instead of falling to the ground, the card began floating above his hand, then gradually drifted upwards over his head. He watched it rise, then closed his eyes. The stitches the Ranger remembered so clearly reappeared. Now blind, He Who Sees with the Eyes of Death continued to follow the tower card with his head.

                              "I will have it," he repeated. "I will have it all."

                              The lights from the chandelier flickered. The tiny flames somehow separated from the fixture and drifted down in a spiraling pattern towards the card. As they touched it, the card seemed to swallow the flames, leaving the room ever dimmer until finally the Ranger sat in complete darkness. Then there was sudden gust of wind, so strong it blew her right out of her chair. She rolled on the ground as rattling furniture flew past her. And then there was nothing.


                              When Ash came to, she was somewhere soft and warm. She quickly realized her head was stuck in a pillow, so she raised herself up on her elbows and shook herself awake. She felt something tug, and looked down to see a suture over the spot where Loco had cut her.

                              She was naked under some sheets, lying on a cot in what looked like a barracks. The same barracks, she realized, that she had passed through on her way to see Shuzhu Akram not long before. It was much quieter now than it had been then.

                              "You are awake," said Bo's voice, to her left. Ash turned to see her sitting at a little table, stirring something into a cup. "Good, that is good. Drink this."

                              Bo stood and walked the cup over to ash. Ash took it from Bo's hands and cautiously sipped it. She wrinkled her nose. It was the bitterest thing she'd ever tasted. "Ugh!"

                              "Drink it," Bo repeated, sternly. "The poison will linger, and you will need to balance your humors."

                              Ash grimaced and tried to chug the bitter drink without letting it touch her tongue. She was successful enough to get it down without gagging, and Bo gave her some clean water afterwards to rinse out the taste.
                              • "Where are the others?" Ash asked, with a deepening frown. "Are they alright?"
                              • "What happened? How did I get back here?" Ash wondered aloud. Her head didn't hurt like last time, but she felt just as confused.
                              • "Bo, what in every god's name did I just drink?" The fog of unconsciousness was passing, leaving Ash just plain ornery and thin-skinned.
                              • "Did... did we win? Is the town safe?" Ash rubbed her eyes. For all that she had apparently been asleep, she still felt incredibly tired.


                              On the frontier of the Wild South, there's only one woman with the grit to take on its most dangerous outlaws and bring them Back Alive, or Maybe Dead.

                              Avatar by K.S. Brenowitz

                              Comment


                              • "Where are the others?" Ash asked, with a deepening frown. "Are they alright?"


                                I post Artifacts in this thread. How I make them is in this thread.
                                I have made many tools and other things for 3rd Edition. I now host all of my creations on my Google site: The Vault of the Unsung Hero

                                Comment

                                Working...
                                X