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The Darkest West

Discussion in 'Mixed-genre & Uncategorized' started by Wintergreen, Dec 7, 2018.

  1. Wintergreen

    Wintergreen The Heart of The Party

    "Any last words?" A man among many had said.

    It was Steven Moteef, The leader of a wondering, hunter group of outlaws. They did shady work that other hunters wouldn't do. They also did other work other than hunt monsters, they hunted people too.

    There were 5 of them, Steven and his 4 goons that stood idly by until the action happened. The town streets were empty, the air thick with threat. The bandits had surrounded him and had him under their thumb.

    "Yeah , Your sum-bitches won't take me down without a fight" The outlaw under pressure finally spoke.

    He quickly reached for his revolver. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. His chances were slim, but if he was fast enough - no, lucky enough, he could survive. His sharpshooter hand magnetized towards the closest goon. As an outlaw his talent was unmatched, but for a man to handle so many would be nearly impossible. His hopes were high as he took out another goon reaching for his gun. But he wouldn't be fast enough, Steven Moteef, and his two remaining goons pulled out their guns out. Steven was the quickest and got the shot off first, followed by the 2 goons who slayed lead into him. 18 shots in total were put into him. The whole town seen this, He appeared to be as dead, the bullets sizzled and Steven blew the smoke off his gun. The outlaw was dead.

    3 hours later.

    Often times funerals were held right away and very quick, Many people died from the creatures out in the wild wasteland, too many to hold proper funerals, so there were many quick and sloppy funerals every day. There were many people to show up for the funeral. After prayers were said everyone faded and returned home. But not Steven, it seemed he had unfinished business with the outlaw. He got on his knees and felt around in the dry dirt, suddenly he slammed his fist hard at the ground 3 times. The weirdest thing occurred a hand came from out of the ground and someone rose from the dead. He pulled himself from the grave, he quickly took off his clothes. Steven had given him a fresh pair, he quickly slipped them on.

    "How much was it again?" The outlaw said.
    "About 300 coin" Steven said.
    "damn, the price is a bit steep now, don't you think?"
    "Tough times, The resources have been being raided more frequently by the creatures, it's harder to set these little meetings up, After all this is, what? the 5th time. You think blood packets and blanks are cheap?"
    "Yeah, and you even brought me new attire"
    "Yeah, I did, Almost forgot, that'd be another 30"

    The outlaw dished out his coin, he was running low, this meant when he got back to his town he'd have to do some hunters work. He was thankful for Steven regardless of how gluttonous his pocket was. The men both shook hands before they parted ways.

    He found himself walking these deserts alone to return to his home, which was in a secluded and quiet place in the desert. By the time he was back it was dark out. The whole place was quiet and the stars said everything you needed to know about the town. The first place he entered was the tavern, as he opened the gates the silence was interrupted by the drunk towns people and hunters. He grabbed himself a stool to sit in. An old bald man came out. He had a monocle on. As he walked he spit in a cup and used the rag to clean off the cup.

    "What's your name this time boy?"
    "Sylvester Freshmen"
    "Why is the more you change names, the more risky you get?"
    "Why is it the older get wiser, You always know it's me, one of these days I'll get you"
    "Haha you think so, You're eyes always give it away, you got the spark of innovation"
    "Don't get gushy on me old-timer, Got any good work?"
    "Check for yourself"

    Sylvester got up out of his chair to check the board, it was filled with all sorts of work, from wanted posters, to monster hunts. On the board he saw the opportunity of the life time......
    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Staring....

    @Wintergreen as the Outlaw
    @Zul'Zae'ju'Jin as the Lawman

    The apocalypse ruined everything. But this is the story of how that all changed....
     
  2. Zul'Zae'ju'Jin

    Zul'Zae'ju'Jin the Hugger Troll

    Cooper paused mid-stride before he retrieved a match and raised his leg, striking it across rough, dirtied jeans. He glanced up lowering his leg for a moment under the brim of his hat before he used it to light his cigar. His hand covered the end sheltering it from a breeze that rolled through town. It had been a fairly slow day with little to show for it.

    He glanced back through the door of the Sheriff's and peered at the jail cells beyond. He had laid low a couple of monsters, strange as they were and caught one wanted outlaw. He'd be taking the man to the next town where the State Judge would reside over his trial and confer sentencing.

    Jethro doubted he's escape the fate awaiting him. The man had robbed, raped and killed before Cooper had caught him. If he escaped the gallows then the law was not doing its job not matter if it was spread as thin as it was. The whole monster problem of recent years had taken a massive drain over resources. Even the U.S. Army was struggling to keep them at bay.

    Smoke fluttered before he pushed off of his and poked his head through the door, staring at the sheriff at his desk. "Keep him cooling off, Curly. I'll be at the saloon if you need me. Hungry,"

    "All right, Marshall. He won't be goin' nowhere," Curly replied watching the man nod and head off.

    Jethro walked towards the saloon and pushed and briefly rested upon the doors as he viewed who was inside before fully entering. He moved towards the bar counter and leaned against it as he waited for the man to serve him.

    "Hey, you got any eats?"
    "Sure, Marshall. What would you like?"
    "Anythin' cooked will do me, friend. I ain't fussy," Jethro nodded
    "Anythin' else to go with?"
    "Whisky"
    "All right, grab yourself a seat"

    Jethro nodded and turned before he paused at seeing a board and moved towards it with some interest. These days his responsibilities included a lot more than just collecting caught criminals. He collected on bounties and hunted monsters down. It tended to be more monsters these days. Their constant attacks had caused even outlaws and rustlers to go out of business in some states. It wasn't looking good.

    He noted another staring at the wall and puffed out another small ball of smoke before he cleared his throat, quietly studying the other before he spoke.

    "Anything interestin' on that board?" he asked, his voice low
    and husky yet concise to be heard.
     
  3. Wintergreen

    Wintergreen The Heart of The Party

    On the board was a very interesting post. It seemed to be a highly dangerous monster, it's plans were unknown, but it's whereabouts where alarming, it was closer to home then it was a month ago. The Marshal approached him and asked him a question. He knew him. He didn't mind him, but he'd rather keep his distance, their moral compass' were a bit different, less than he'd like to admit however.

    "Ah, It's just another monster. Just a Mo-"

    He got cut off from the screams outside the saloon, it was accompanied from the sound or large flapping from wings', it was a very thick noise that disoriented the ears. Sylvester had ran out of the saloon to spot some flying creatures nicknamed Gargoyles. They were dark blue in color, and their bellies a lighter blue. They were bald, and had small horns pocking out of their head. Their wings were oversized for their bodies. And their feet had knife sharp talons, that could lift anything double their size. They were low tier monsters, most likely scouts.There were 5 flying about the place creating terror. All the civilians were screaming and trying to find cover. Fellow hunters who heard the scream came to aid. This was the outlaws chance to brag, he quickly fired from 1 gargoyle to the next, but as he shot the 4th one he realized he was missing one.

    "Help!" A lady screamed.

    She was a wealthy lady, with her fancy white dress and soft, white scarf. A gargoyle had it's talons plunged into her shoulders. He snapped to the gargoyle and laid a bullet between it's eyes, A thick green liquid substance squirted from it's head.

    He approached the woman who had jumped into his arms very grateful. He nodded his hat.

    "Thank you, thank you!" She repeated.
    "Anytime, Mam"

    He grabbed her hand gently, it had a long white glove that went up to her sleeve, it was very fancy. Her golden, diamond encrusted watch had sparkled in the moonlight. He gently kissed her hand and let go. She blushed a little.

    "Now, Miss go get yourself a doctor. Those wounds won't heal themselves"

    She started to walk away with her quick, but small steps. Then suddenly she stopped and turned.

    "Will I ever see you again?" She looked down at her feet.
    "Don't worry your pretty little head miss. I'll be around!" He waved at her kindly.

    She entered into the medical bay. Finally while she wasn't looking he slowly slipped the watch into his pocket, his mission accomplished. With all the money he would acquire he could buy some high end military gear. It could be used for the mission he had ahead of him. It might be a dangerous goal. He didn't know if there'd be money in it -he had hoped- but this mission was to vital to not undertake, so either way he was dedicated.

    The moonlight had layed upon him as he stood in his hometown thinking of the next step.
     
  4. Zul'Zae'ju'Jin

    Zul'Zae'ju'Jin the Hugger Troll

    His attention to the man and the board of posters and other such notices vanished in a second as screams tore through the air. He frowned and he left without so much as another word. He was used to reacting to danger regardless of what it was and these days it could literally be anything from a brawl in the street to something far worse. It seemed it was going to stem for the latter as he watched a gargoyle gargle and growl as it made a pass over the heads of women fleeing away from it. He noted the man he had joined earlier rushed out and much like other began shooting. Most shots fired went wide and the Marshall chewed the end of his cigar somewhat as he watched, his hand resting on the butt of the colt resting within its holster. Jethro knew these creatures well enough to know you needed decent amount of proximity to be sure of a shot. He would have preferred his Winchester but he did not have that to hand.

    Screams rose and growls hissed before thud after thud sounded the Gargoyles' fall from their demonic grace. He grimaced, he could hardly call it as such.

    It seemed other men had lucky shots. It was the only time folks could shoot freely without the Law getting involved. Monster attacks were getting far too frequent for the Law to be relied upon and in some States, there were even rewards for monsters killed provided proof was brought. He shared in that as much as anyone. He blew a puff of smoke upwards before his head rested on the figure he had been standing beside before. There was something familiar about him and the Marshal tilted his head as he studied the man interacting with a hurt woman. Such was his casual observance, he noted the woman had something sparkly on her one moment and gone the next. He snorted before he looked to three men approaching one of the Gargoyle's still writhing on the floor.

    He frowned at them before he moved closer, "Put that thing out of its misery now would you? Damned thing's gonna call all an' sundry otherwise!"

    The sounds it was making as it writhed were enough to put the fear into any man. Not Jethro Cooper however. He was used to by now, that was equally bad however. Men were one thing, monsters were something else to deal with mentally and physically. The men looked at him before one shrugged and fired another shot into the head of the strange demonic beast.

    "What's to be done with them now, Marshal?"
    "Some one's gotta put an end to this... It's bad for trade!"

    Their complaints were soon added to by others and soon more as more people ventured back out once they realised the threat had passed. It had become another normal happenstance of life in the West and all the questions and complaints were nothing new to Marshal Cooper. He peered at them all a moment as they stood in the middle of the road.

    "First thing's first, burn them and do it outside of town. Believe me, you don't want their stink loitering here," he advised, gesturing to the bodies. "Has anyone not made it?" he asked aloud, steel-grey eyes peering through faces of the crowd.
    "A couple, Marshal. Good folk, honest folk,"
    "That's too bad. I'll see what the fund can provide. Won't be much," it never was but it was simple enough and often aided the families of those deceased.

    "Sheriff Curly! Curly! Make sure you and your boys maintain a perimeter watch. Doubt this lot's the last this town's gonna see." Cooper knew the night seemed to be a choice time for some monsters.

    He turned and headed straight back for that notice board. A Marshal's responsibilities had changed a great deal with the arrival of the monster that came from apparently nowhere. They attacked and attacked, and attacks were getting more frequent as every day passed. He wasn't a fool to think it would go away by itself. They had to be coming from somewhere. So, in the midst of retrieving criminals from their jail cells and issuing warrants and the rest.

    "Just another monster," he muttered, echoing the words of the man from before as he stared at the poster. He took it from the wall and peered for where this monster had been seen. He turned for the counter of the bar and rested the sheet upon it, using a couple of glasses to keep it open straight. The man then retrieved a small book from a pocket along with a chewed stubby pencil. He referred to his notes before adding the location of the latest sighting. He muttered to himself underneath his breath, his cigar bouncing slightly with the movement of his lips and subsequently dropping ash here and there on the papers below.
     

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