The New West: A Constable's Raw Deal

[TheBlindMime]

Society as we know it ended a long time ago. That is to say, its gone and wont be coming back.

Some are trying to bring it back, the Coalition of True Americans which originate somewhere from Montana have been doing their best to reunify North America by force. From the south comes the Daimyo, a group of Samurai bent on following their tyrannical Emperor to a new and better world order. Both are strong in their respective areas but both have a hard time pushing to the center, the center is the place where everyone else lives.

That leaves us with a mish-mash of cultures that were combining when we lost our own, for the most part we have been left with Japanese and Western bases. This has been the cause for forming both Warlords as well as Gunslingers, adding to this volitile combination is the fact there are no bloodlines to track back to give you access to a weapon. Which means almost every idiot and his brother has one, though that doesn't mean they know how to use them.

"You can't skip a rock without hitting a third-rate samurai/gunslinger."

The reunification of the west has been costly and slow, no one government seems capable of doing it, not that many people mind. Most are happy with whatever dictator they have been handed, no matter the taxes, or need for work. "It is far better to have a dictator aligned to greed then to cruelty."

It is only when a leader becomes truly wicked that the people cannot bear it, though by the time they speak of their complaints openly to one another it is to late. The leaders stranglehold is to strong for anyone to stop him now, well, anyone who can settle in such a town.

You however, cannot settle. Something stirs in you, a restlessness, perhaps a past failure haunts you, a lost love, home or hope. Or maybe you just live for adventure and thrive in combat. Lets look into who you are shall we.

Sign-Up:
Name(s): (You could have many aliases this is a time when you could leave one town as a villanous murderer and settle in another to become sheriff.)
Appearance: (Are you a samurai in a cowboy's gear, a gunslinger with a katana the options continue on.)
Gender: (Ha, try making innuendo now!)
Possessions: (What do you own, remember now you have to carry it, or it has to carry you. So no grand piano's. Horse's are ok though. Include your weapons.)
Skills: (You can be a samurai, a gunslinger or both. If you are just one, you are first class. If you are both you are second class in one and third with the other.)
Personality: (Cold-blooded killer or light-hearted murderer; you decide! Also all the other options.)
Background: (Make up everything and anything you want here, factions, cities, everything is up to you so long as it makes sense in the world go for it. Also keep in mind the two groups I mentioned are just examples of attempted governments, there are plenty to go around and yakuza are plentiful everywhere.)

On a more OOC note, I'm only going to let a max of four(4) people into this 1 chapter roleplay, If there is more interest after its finished I would be more then happy to begin another one for those who missed out. But preference always goes to those who get their first, so from the interest thread it goes as follows.

Ecurt (super next round preference)
Azisien
Heliomance
PyrosNine
Seeker
Mintaro (Who may appear as a villain)
Myst
IC

And if/when we do the sequel whoever didn't get in but applied will have preference. Because... that seems fair to me. Now.......


Sign-Up!

[Seeker]

Name(s): Grif Dunel (Real Name), Wanderer (Most Common Alias)

Appearance: 6'2" 190lbs, Grif has a thin but muscular frame, often called a "swimers build". He has a well groomed mustache and goatee, and is rather fresh-faced. Well tanned and he appears to be Caucasian with hazel eyes and short brown hair that is usually covered by a cowboy hat that has a flat top and round flat bill.

Grif carries himself with the air of a person used to being held in awe by others even if it may not alway be deserved. He is always impecabley well kept even though his air suggested that he never tries to keep it that way. Ladys tend to flock to his natural charisma, something that he encourages. This means most men hate him, but as he says, "That's just old green-eyed jealousy, I'm the best an they want to be."

Gender: Male

Possessions: Long brown leather duster, two long barreled six shooters in leg holsters, automatic rifle (adaptable for long range), horse, saddle and saddlebags, lock picks

Skills: Gunslinger

Personality: Self-Important Showoff/Playboy/Thief

Background: The town of Haven where Grif grew up was populated entirely by weathy families that had banded together many years earlier. This meant that they had the money to build a defense system for the town. This system wasn't very sophisticated but it was effective. They could also afford to hire wandering mercnaries to form an impromptu army for added protection. As a result Haven was left mostly alone by the various warring factions.

At a young age Grif began to exhibit natural gifts for shooting, stealing, gambling, and wooing women. By 16 he was an expert markman and skilled thief. He was also hated by almost every woman's husband in town. Being from one of the more wealthy families not to mention his numerous "aquisitions" provided him a means of dealing with most of his problems and any that more difficult, well that's what his guns were for.

By 22 however the townsfolk had begun to weary of him. This combined with a decline in popularity of his family lead to him being run out of Haven with only what he could gather in a hurry. After that he took to wandering for town to town, staying only long enough to leave a reputation behind. His gifts have helped him regain a sizable chunck of his fortune in the years since his exile. This in turn has let Grif continue his playboy lifstyle even while wandering the wastes.

Edit: All done now I think

[Truce]

Mmm...

Well, given that my track record for keeping in touch with RPs here has been bad lately, I'll just wait until next time, so that someone more likely to stay in touch will be here. I'll probably keep an eye on it though, just so that I'll know what to expect.

Oh.

And there had better be a next time!

[TheBlindMime]

Trust in the TBM Ecurt, there will be a next time (maybe?). And you can be assured of that (possibly?).

Moving along to seeker (who actually posted first.) Anything that isn't covered in your appearance that you believe you will want to use later needs to be covered. Small day to day stuff like, razors for shaving, bullets, and the like can be looked over because we will assume you had them. But leaving off bazooka means you have no bazooka later.

Also.... no bazookas.

[Azisien]

Name(s): Nathan Carera (Official name), The Gutter (nickname), The Hand of East Sheree (nickname). Goes by his surname most frequently.

Appearance: 6'2", 240lbs. Nathan manages to keep neck-length, silvery black hair almost permanently slicked straight back without the use of ancient luxury items like hair gel. An age-worn face, pockmarked face and cool blue eyes hint at a rough life, though his yellowish-white toothed, but otherwise flawless smile makes anybody wonder who it's been rough for other than him. A very muscular build is a compliment to his apparent age, though the years are starting to accumulate in his gut. He appears to come from a mixture of Hispanic and Caucasian heritages, but near-bronzed skin gives away a life lived primarily in the Sun. His common clothes are leather pants tight enough to show off his impressive build, but loose enough to move around quickly without tearing. Despite this, the pants have dozens of amateur makeshift repairs. He wears a thin, white tunic that seems good as new, in stark contrast to his pants. Two holsters bulge out under each armpit and a sheathed knife is strapped to his leather belt.

Gender: Male

Possessions: Common outfit (see above), two semiautomatic pistols: one large semiautomatic of similar design (but of different future origin) to a .44 Magnum Desert Eagle (11 rounds), and one semiautomatic 9mm pistol (18 rounds). A simple knife, because you never know when you need one of those. A leather skin backpack usually containing: a waterskin, rations, a spare shirt and undergarments, maps. Any and all remaining space is devoted to ammunition and spare cartridges (3 spares each).

Skills: First Class Gunslinger

Personality: Gruff, vulgar, and headlong. Nathan isn't precisely quick to anger, but he is tempermental if you know what buttons to push. He is quick-to-act and generally solitary in nature unless companions are advantageous. Doesn't necessarily "do the right thing," though he usually means well. Usually.

Background: Though his now-heavy tan would disagree, Nathan was born in the area previously known as Maine, and more presently in a city-state called Sheree. He grew up in the city's eastern slums, where two things could happen to you: Hard labor until you died or were killed (accidentally or not) and prayed you raised enough kids that they might be able to escape, or you fought your way out.

If East Sheree was famous for anything, it would be the blood sports, duelling, and good old fashioned gladiatorial matches. Even in the divided lands of Old North America, thousands flocked to Sheree to see and participate in the fights. That's where Nathan got his break. He first learned to shoot by accident, at age twelve when he managed to wrestle the gun away from a rapist and shot the man in the chest and arm, unloading the rest of the clip into the wall behind him and the woman that had been raped. He had ran, but kept the gun.

Over the years he used any currency he could to keep the stolen gun maintained and used whatever he had left to get ammunition. He went to the duelling matches and awed at some of the shooters he saw in the arena. His idol was Gray-Eyed Gustam, an undefeated 'slinger with 142 wins. After he took down a legendary slinger from the South, nobody bothered to challenge him anymore, and he got old and died from illness in every way unceremonious.

Before that time, and following in his footsteps, Nathan tried to train himself to shoot. He participated in his first duel at age seventeen, where he learned the price of hestitation. His youth saved him, but his right shoulder is still scarred to this day. Migrating from the labor zones of Sheree, he joined the city's criminal fraternity, namely the East Side Slingers.

There, he was able to practice more often and even receive the odd training session and tidbit from more experienced gang members. He grew into a man in the ESS, not only because he got laid more frequently, but also because of the carnage he saw. He made a lot of friends only to have them bleed to death in his arms. As it goes, loss turned to anger, anger turned to hate, and hate got people other than Nathan killed. He made enemies, but he also got good. In his history with the Slingers, Nathan shot over one hundred people, at least half of them to death, and got shot eight times, with two close-calls.

He moved up in the hierarchy of the Slingers over the years, but despite the so-called "prestige" of higher rank, you still went out and you still got your hands bloody week after week. As a "lieutenant" of sorts, he lived through the destruction and disbanding of the Central City Slickers, their main rival gang, and the expansion of his own gang into the East Sheree Slingers. His highest profile kill ever was the head enforcer for the CCS, their ex-second in command, and from her body he looted his present-day .44 Magnum.

The conquest of Sheree by the Coalition of True Americans accelerated the gang and guerilla warfare for a time, but the ruthless tactics of the CTA ultimately won out. Despite acting prestigous and world-classed, Sheree gangs were not trained soldiers and were no match for the relatively well-trained, well-equipped CTA men and women. Nathan fled Sheree while he still had his life, but never forgot his past.

He moved further and further South over the years, working and sometimes killing from town to town. His skill as a gunner improved steadily with age, and while he is past his physical peak, his peacemakers remain precise and utterly indiscriminate. He's learned to hate the CTA because of his past, and to hate samurais because of his travels and as he puts it, "their macho-fucking-noble code of conduct."

OOC: While bazookas are outlawed, I assumed the technology of semiautomatic modernish pistols survived whatever Holocaust occurred.

[TheBlindMime]

Oh, Azisien you are so in.

So in.

And yeah you can totally have modern tech. The main point is that you don't have the more advanced technology or cars, as gasoline isn't everywhere and neither are bazooka's. But as an american I assure you that no matter the holocaust rifles and pistols will survive.

God Bless America!

[PyrosNine]

Name(s): Nein the Nine. Pyros. Jimmy. And in one obscure town, L'zz'le
Appearance: Wears a dusty cowboy hat over a large brown leather jacket that drapes along the ground behind him and is covered in dirt. Underneath the jacket he wears a normal white shirt, and faded jeans, along with a gunholster and a sheath on his back.
Gender: SPORKS!
Possessions: Twin 7-shooter revolvers, each handmade and etched with runic drawings of an unknown sort. On his back he keeps a dark red blade stained red through some means in a sheath adorned with with a large "7"
Skills: Samurai-Gunslinger. 2nd in Samurai, 3rd in Guns. Cuz Pyros would prefer to stab with swords, rather than bullets.
Personality: Calm collected man who rolls from town to the next, occasionally being a bandit, and occasionally being a hard worker, to occasionally killing many people.
Background: When the world ended, Nein began. He crawled out from the nothingness and waste of the world with nothing but a bag of gunpowder and a sword. From there, he wandered since the day of his existence across the wartorn lands, through towns and villages, and even through Men and Woman who barred him pass.

A weak whisper on the wind is all that most can say they know about him, but those who have seen him in previous towns speak of a man with no direction in life, and only does things because "he can."

So far, he's been present in the destruction of 3 towns, and reported to have killed fifty men in a great skirmish.

[TheBlindMime]

Alright I'm going to allow P9 to be a supernatural being, only because he is always a supernatural being. So this marks the end of supernatural people in the world.

__________________________

^
][ you see that right there... thats the line.


Alright now we wait for heliomance....

[Mr.Bookworm]

Real Name: John Smith

Alias: The Accountant

False Names:Joseph Newton, Gabriel Joyce, Elijah Finnigan, Jack O'Malley, Kiel Williams, Jim Carpenter, Patrick Weaver

Appearance: He stands 5'10, with brown hair and green eyes. He wears a grey buisness suit, pants, tie, and hat. He also carries a black metal briefcase. He wears thick black glasses.

Gender: Male

Possessions: Two semi-automatic Beretta 92s (11 rounds, hidden in briefcase), two silencers (briefcase), money (briefcase), 400 rounds of ammo (briefcase), the briefcase itself, and his pills (which help keep his insanity in check, in his breast pocket).

Skills: First Class Gunslinger. Also a good cook.

Personality: He appears, at first to be a nice, if slightly introverted man. This, however, is just a disguise. He is a psychopath, who kills for money and pleasure. When he is on his meds, he can control it well enough, but if he stops, he loses all sanity, and begins to hear "voices" (that tell him to do all kinds of things). Even on his meds, he has exhibits no morals, and shows some traits of his psychopathic self under stress. He feels no more emotion killing than you or I would feel hitting the Delete key to erase some numbers.

Background: John wasn't always crazy. For the first twelve years of his life, he lived with his large (5 sons, 4 daughters, 2 parents, 3 grandparents) family in a backwater country town. The most exciting thing to happen to him was the hunting trips he, his father, and his brothers took. When he was eleven, he first started hearing the voices, and began torturing animals in the forest to help stave them off. It all climaxed on his thirteenth birthday, when he went totally insane, ran into the kitchen, grabbed a sharp meat cleaver, and butchered his entire family. When he came too, he was lying on the floor in a sea of blood. He saw he had painted little figures on the wall with his familie's blood. Taking his two hunting pistols, he changed clothes, left the house, and set it on fire. He then went to a doctor, and made him diagnose him at gun point. The diagnosis was insanity, and the doctor gave him meds. John then killed the doctor. Since then, he has wandered around, doing many things, from cooking to assassination. The only constant in his life are his guns, the killing, and the voices.

Extra: John is very erratic when he's fully loony. For example, he once killed an entire family, then sat for hours listening to their music collection. Yep. Erratic.
He got the name "The Accountant" when he told a group of people he was hired to kill "You're all numbers to me".

I'll take a spot whenever I can get one.

[PyrosNine]

Originally Posted by TheBlindMime

Alright I'm going to allow P9 to be a supernatural being, only because he is always a supernatural being. So this marks the end of supernatural people in the world.

__________________________

^
][ you see that right there... thats the line.


Alright now we wait for heliomance....

He's not a supernatural being! The "Crawling from Nothingness" thing was just a metaphor for rising up from obscurity!

But now, just because you said that, He's going to shoot lazer beams from his eyes, and control cats with psychic powers. So Nyah!

Also, the cats are all Heliomancer's.