Yeah, I hope all these characters get their stories told sometime.
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How they survived this far I'll never know ...
"Fools are probably almost dead ...I should check on them." The old man heads toward the cave.
I'm still here and into playing ...just gotta figure out a way to get Blue Eyes back to the fold ...if we end up getting replacements, that could be a way to tie it in.
Unable to find anyone to question, the old man ambles about town aimlessly, though he's told himself he'd go to his room to sleep. Fools. Dead already most like. As if a few hours would be enough for those evil dirtbags down there to finish. He pretends not to look off towards where they went.
The old man ambles up and down the street looking for signs of people up and about.
Damn righteous fools. Nothing wrong with doin good; 'snot like the so-called gods will. But nothin wrong with doin it smart. Upon returning to town he checks to see if there's anyone around he could talk to.
"Well, imagine that. One of the damn fools that think the heavens actually give a s!&* about us down here, well he just so happens to be a born idiot. What a coincidence! Enjoy your honor. I'll stick with results." The old man spits and turns to leave.
"What did you call me." It's more of a statement than a question. "Fighting smart ain't fighting cowardly. You want to win or you want to fight? Which is more important?"
"So you g$*%#~ fools are going to rush into a possible-undead situation at night? It's one thing to keep a watch to see if any try to leave. But to go down under with the sort that loot graves at nighttime? Dumb strategy."
"Nobody's stopping you, son."
"The dead don't complain. And if he does somehow finish tonight, he'll be loaded down with his loot. Going nowhere. I did a job, I intend to get paid. You want to rush off without planning or help, I wish you luck."
"Robber'll be there after we get paid."
The old man draws his pistol and holds it directly at the robber's head. "Not an inch."
The old man stays quiet but his thoughts are elsewhere.
"Maybe someone in town looks fuller than they should."
The old man chuckles. "Boy, if you're trying to offend ...wrong audience. Though those with better vision might disagree looking at your face."
"Don't care what you call me. And it depends on yr endgame. Stoppin the thievin or retribution for said thievin?"
"Everything we need to know about those tracks is that they go into town. Time to start asking questions."
The old man from the night, the guitar-player, sidles up to the group. His piercing blue eyes scan the area, but he says nothing.
The old man in the corner begins to play his guitar again.
The old man in the corner stops noodling his guitar. He spits. "Gods. Deities. Ain't no matter what you call 'em. All useless in the end; more capricious than even us. Y'make yer own way or y'die."
@DM: Working on the backstory ...most of it I'd like to remain secret-ish, if only to be more "spaghetti western" ish ...could I write two versions, for the boards and for you?
Gunslinger crunch up under this alias. I'll write the fluff when I get home and get weird in a bit.
A human knifemaster, an insane metatexual gnome sorcerer, a goblin wizard, a dwarven paladin, an android, and a gunslinger ...sounds like a possibly amazing combo.
Digger, making an alias for the Gunslinger here. Will get this finalized and typed up tonight. His fluff is coming to me nicely ... |