I guess this story could use some introduction, it?s based in a setting I?m currently RPing called the Flats but you don?t need to be familiar with the RP to understand the story. At least that was my intent, I was worried because I know this world so well that I might gloss over elements that need more explanation and leave the reader lost. Maybe you can give feedback in this regard.
Anyway I wanted to do a story with a really mysterious protagonist who you learn more about as the story continues. To this end he has no lines and his story isn?t fully told until the end. I also wanted to have a bit of a twist and I admit it?s a little lame but I think it adds a bit of ambiguity to the end. It?s also lifted from a movie but I felt it was a cool little thing, get a hi-five for correctly identifying the film.
I hope you enjoy the story and I?d really appreciate any feed back in particular about pacing and story structure although anything is good if it helps me tell the films that happen in my brain better.
Beck Kilo looked at the drink sitting on the bar in front of him and slowly raised his hand toward it. His face was contorted by complete concentration as his hand slowly and unsteadily made its way toward the small glass. Beck closed his left eye in the hope of greater accuracy which failed to materialise then switched eyes before just blinking a lot in the hopes his drunken gaze would become more accurate.
The bartender watcheD the show with a wry smile nobody knew where Beck got his money or more importantly where he kept it but every night he was in the bar drinking as much as possible, as quickly as possible. The bar tender was curious to know what the drink would take first all his money or his life. The bar tender watched as Beck?s stubby fingers found the glass and brought it to his mouth.
Sure more fell out of his mouth than went in but at least he found his face.
?Another one Beck?? The bartender asked.
Beck gave a startled jump and nearly fell from his seat.
?What in the shit! Where, where?d you spring from?? Beck said looking at the bartender with an expression of sheer yet unfocused terror.
?Been here the whole time, Beck.?
?Sneaky, sneaky, gotta watch that.? The drunk slurred wagging a finger.
?Another drink?? The bartender repeated
An Ochil sitting at the opposite end of the bar was the only other patron. He was short was were all Ochil and had his dyed black hair pulled into a knot on top of his head. Like most Ochil he was wearing face paint two blue lines running from his left eye to his chin. The bartender knew it probably meant something to the desert tribes of Ochil running around the Flats but it was just face paint to him.
?What about you?? The bartender said looking at the Ochil who shook his head and drained the glass he had in front of him. He then hopped off the bar stool and made his way toward the door. The bartender guessed he was about 5?4. Tall for an Ochil.
Beck watched the Ochil but as soon as the door swung shut he lost interest and pointed at his glass.
?Let?s get this... thing... get.? Unable to compose his sentence Beck went with the old standby ?Gizusadrink.?
#
Later Beck staggered into the night and trusted his feet to do the navigating. His brain was taking a brief alcohol induced nap which often resulted Beck waking up face down in some alley covered in piss. Only most of which was his own.
Beck was walking through the streets of Skycove which was a dangerous proposition sober in the light of day, let alone drunk in the dark. This was for a couple of reasons, for a start the city floated about a mile above the desert below, in fact calling the place a city was a bit of a stretch. Skycove has started life as a pirate flotilla but eventually the old Airships began to moor against each other for support. In time more Airships joined and the whole set up became known as Skycove, a pirate?s paradise. The occupants were the other problem as they were about as loyal as a drunken husband in a brothel. Beck liked the place though he could drink all night and sleep all day. In fact the drink was the only thing that allowed him to sleep.
Unfortunately his self medicating ways were to be his undoing. He was so drunk he didn?t notice the figure following behind him until he felt the small hand on the back of his neck and the knife jabbing his ribs as he made his way down an alley. A grunt and a push kept him moving.
Beck kept walking and the hand guided him into one of the dilapidated old Airships that made up most of Skycove. It was a flop much like the one Beck lived in, addicts and drunks huddled in every dark corner either riding their latest fix or waiting of the next one.
Beck was starting to think he didn?t like this place so much and began to struggle but soon stopped when he felt the knife in his ribs again.
?Forgot about that.? He muttered.
Soon he was being bundled through a door and into a small room. A swift kick to the back of the knee brought him down. He turned rolled over on the floor to see a short man locking the door behind them. While his back was turned Beck reached for the blade he kept in his pocket. He pushed it up his sleeve and figured he?d have to bide his time.
?Uh look... if this about that thing in the uh... cock fight thing... bottom line, bottom, bottom line is this... they?d already started shaving the dog before I arrived.? He mumbled incoherently.
The Ochil said nothing as he turned to allow Beck a look at his face. He recognised the two vertical stripes under the Ochil?s right eye from the bar earlier but he knew those marks and knew what they meant. Fear grabbed tightly at Beck?s chest.
?I don?t do that no more... I?m sorry, I?ll tell you whatever... You want beads??
The Ochil?s expression remained impassive as he removed the coat he had been wearing to reveal a white shirt. He approached Beck and slowly pulled out a long knife.
?Like hell.? Beck said as he produced the knife and drunkenly swung at the Ochil, even with surprise on his side, his drunkenness and speed of the Ochil proved too great. In a swift movement the Ochil caught Beck?s arm and bent it backwards with a sickening crack.
Beck collapsed into a screaming heap.
The Ochil held his blade aloft and slowly advanced on the whimpering man.
#
The Bartender hadn?t seen Beck in few days and started asking around. At first he didn?t get any answers when he asked about Beck by name but when he switched to asking about ?the drunk with the Beads? they knew exactly who he was talking about.
?Don?t know what happened to him but they found him in one of those floating pieces of crap on the starboard side of town. Beat up pretty bad they say, got his head chopped off.? An old drunk the Bartender had seen Beck talking to most nights was able to explain.
?Poor Beck.? The bartender muttered.
?Yeah poor Bert.? The old man said without much feeling. ?Giveusadrink??
Courtney Burrows was at the top of his game. He had a harem, a small army and lucrative business contracts that kept the first two in line. He?d started out on the Flats doing whatever paid same as most people. Unlike most people who drank they money, spent it on women or gave it to a casino Courtney had kept to the plan. He saved and saved until he was able to get his first Airship then he went legit, he owned a business. Carting cargo between the Flats in the South and the Peaks in the North. His business became so successful that the grubby urchin from the Badlands became a member of Farpoint High Society.
Over time though running a business became less fun until one day it was dull, by then though Burrows contacts and lack of moral restrictions on the Cargo he carried had made his business the third biggest on the Flats, after Walker Transport and the South Flats Trading Company. He passed it though the grapevine that he was will to sell eventually he decided to sell to Walker as the old man had promised him the contract to provide security on his Airships. The deal catapulted Walker Transport to the top spot while a run of unfortunate deaths left the South Flats Trading Company in free fall.
This freed up Courtney to enjoy what he?d missed out while he?d been saving his beads. Now his life was a nonstop blur of Wine, Women and Song. He lived on a grand Airship floating above Farpoint, people who wouldn?t have given him a second glance ten years ago now doffed their hats at him while their daughters blushed. Of course he was no fool he knew what he?d done to earn his place among the among the clouds meant they would never fully accept him yet he also knew a lot of people below him remembered what he?d done to earn his place and would have a thing or two to say about his success from his suffering. So he was stuck in Limbo, unwanted above and below.
That?s why as Grand as his Airship was he knew it was something of a gilded cage. There were too many enemies below for him move freely, then again why would he want to? If the cost of living among the clouds was the soul he?d traded long ago and the ability to return to the Badlands he was happy to pay it.
His Airship was heavily guarded by veteran pirate hunters, piloted by the most experienced people and hid all sorts of clever gadgets that could make an intruder?s life short and hellish. It helped Courtney sleep at night, although on the night of his death sleep was the last thing on his mind.
He had spent the day drinking with a collection of sycophants who liked to pretend they were dangerous men. He would eat his hat if any of them had ever been to a place like New Mesa or Skycove. No these boys were too soft of hands and eyes. They didn?t have the hardness a life on the Flats gave you. Courtney retired for the evening and staggered up the staircase toward his bedroom. He knew his two favourite girls would be waiting for him so he wasn?t surprised when he saw two forms lying under the covers.
?Well what do we have here? Where?s Scarlet? Where?s Sky?? he said with mock wonder.
?Maybe they?re over here?? He said as he pulled back a curtain. ?No. Not here.?
He pulled off his jacket and threw if over a chair, he then kicked off his boots and removed his gun belt. He was enjoying the little game and the girls knew how he loved his little games.
?In here I think!? He said as he threw open the closet to reveal only he immaculately tailored clothes.
?Nope. These bad girls are in some trouble when I find them.?
He snuck towards the bed with the two forms hiding under the sheets.
?Here!? He shouted as he threw back the sheets but he immediately fell to the ground as he recoiled in horror. Both were dead the bugged out eyes and red ligature marks telling him it had to be strangulation.
He was about to run to his gun belt when the blade explode out of his chest. The pain never really came as his spine had been severed. It was peculiar sensation. Suddenly he could feel nothing below the pain of the blade. He wanted to let out a roar but suddenly found himself dropped face down on the bed. Small hands forced a gag into his mouth before flipping him over.
His attacker was an Ochil with a pair of blue stripes running down his left cheek from eye to chin. The Ochil jumped onto the bed and dragged Courtney onto it before propping him up with pillows. He bound Courtney?s hands which were able to move but felt strange like they were someone else?s he then went to the foot of the bed where Courtney could get the best view.
The Ochil produced a small bundle of kindling and set it on the bed he then ran a small dark stone down the length of his blade which produced an arc of sparks. Courtney started to scream but the gag did it?s job. Ochil brought the blade down to the kindling and ran the dark stone along it again, producing the same arc. This time the kindling caught fire and the Ochil smiled. Courtney tried to struggle but with his hands bound and legs immobile there was little he could do. The Ochil took a large theatrical bow before exiting through the nearest window.
Courtney watched the flames until he became them.
The Repentant.
Rafe Holiday had the ability to let his body go lose which was a useful skill when driving caravans across the rough terrain of The Flats. Any Old world roads had long since been reclaimed by the desert sands following whatever it was that made the sky red and angry all those years ago. Maybe it was God and Rafe had a good idea the kind of thing that would make him mad he?d spent his life doing them.
He flicked the reins and spurred the horses on just to be doing something. It stopped him thinking about his past. He believed he had a moment of enlightenment while travelling from Farpoint to New Mesa. He had been transporting a group of four Ochil he?d caught and drugged up to keep docile when he came across a
He?d cut the Ochil loose and kept riding to New Mesa where he understood his purpose, he would use his ill gotten gains to help the children of New Mesa. He didn?t have a lot of money, he wasn?t like Courtney who saved his beads and now lived on an Airship, or rather had. He spent all he had clothing and feeding the Urchins. He made the trip to the small towns and bought up whatever was going cheap and brought it back to New Mesa. It wasn?t much but it meant the kids at least got a square meal every few days that didn?t involve rat. He didn?t know if when it was his time he?d be forgiven for what he?d done but just knew it felt right.
The horse drawing his caravan suddenly collapsed in front of him, the arrow sticking out of its head making the animal look like a bloody parody of a unicorn. Rafe went for his leaver action rifle and scanned the horizon. It was an new world weapon which meant the thing wasn?t very reliable at range and was prone to misfires. Old world weapons far superior but they were few and far between what with the only ones capable of making them being dead for as long as anyone could remember.
Rafe assumed it was a tribal ambush and figured if he was able to drop a few they might leave him alone he?d have to leave most of the supplies but he might be able to get some of the restoratives through. He remained seated on the Caravan perched behind the dead horse.
The Ochil approached from behind the desert was his environment and he was the apex predator. He moved through it with the confidence and stealth of a shark in water, a tiger in grass or a Hawk in air. Rafe didn?t see him until he was mere feet away.
Rafe didn?t fire at the Ochil pointing the bow at him but he didn?t lower his weapon either. He looked at the blue stripes running down the Ochil?s face contrasting with his dark skin.
?Mister I know why you?re here. I was a no good slaver and I already heard what you did to Courtney and Beck. Now I?ve made my peace with what I did but what I do with this here caravan is good work, for free to the wretches of New Mesa. Them kids need food just like any other. I know that face mark as well, you?re a Hito and I... I remember... I understand, I do, if you hadda done to me what I did to you I?d be feeling mighty sore too.?
The Ochil remained impassive with his bow pointed at Rafe.
?Look Mister. After I make my delivery we can do whatever you wanna do but I can?t let you get in the way this food.?
Ochil seemed to think about for a moment and lowered his bow, as did Rafe with his gun. Both men stared at each other for a long moment.
Suddenly the Ochil dropped low and spun on his heel, as he turned he grabbed a knife from the small of his back and as he spun threw it at Rafe who hurriedly readied his gun and fired.
Both men were accurate; the Ochil?s knife found Rafe?s forehead while Rafe?s shot hit the Ochil?s gut.
Rafe?s jaw went slack and twitched as a glob of tobacco fell from it and onto his lap.
The Ochil smiled before collapsing.
When he came to the stars were overhead and the moon was large in the sky. He exhaled loudly and realised it was over. Every single Slaver involved in the kidnapping of his tribe was now dead and yet he felt nothing. No relief or joy, the vengeance had given him nothing.
He struggled to his feet and looked at Rafe who was still slumped in the caravan, He spat of the corpse before walking away clutching his wound.
Since the day he?d returned to his camp after hunting and found a scene of utter devastation he?d been filled with burning rage. The rage only intensified as he inspected the Burnt Tepees, dead bodies and trashed supplies. The true magnitude of what had happened only occurred to him when he started cremating the bodies. Most of the tribe was missing.
Slavers had struck his camp and taken his tribe so he set out on a quest to recover as many as he could. The ones he found though had been corrupted by Dust a drug the Slavers used to keep their product docile. They were just shadows of what they once were, their minds had been so completely twisted by the drug withdrawal killed each after only a few days.
When he realised his tribe was truly gone he knew the only course of action was to take a pledge of retribution. There would be no mercy, no begging, no bargaining . He pledged to become the spirit of the Hito that would haunt those that that wronged it to the ends of the Earth. As was customary after taking the pledge he cut out his own tongue for the pledge would be the last words a Hito ever uttered.
Then he spent every day tracking down and murdering anyone who was involved in the attack or the trade of his people. Now his revenge was completed and nothing had changed, he was still alone and the fury still consumed him.
?Woah Mister.? A voice said from behind the Ochil causing him instinctively raise his knife but it fell from his bloody hands.
?No need for that, if I was going to kill you I woulda killed you.?
He turned to see a woman with pretty brown hair in a dark frock and wearing dark red lipstick driving a carriage. The Ochil would have laughed but he didn?t have the strength. He guessed he?d lost more blood than he?d thought as the woman her horse and carriage had been able to sneak up on him.
?Name?s Miss Fair. You alright Mister? Lookin? mighty beat up there.?
The Ochil looked down at his shirt which was more red than white now. He suddenly felt woozy and dropped to his knees. Miss Fair climbed off her horse and walked towards him.
?Poor little man.? She said as she stroked a soft hand across his brow. Usually he would have killed someone for calling him little but he was just too tired. ?You want help??
The Ochil couldn?t put his finger on it but he knew this question was important, it carried weight.
He slowly nodded and almost pitched forward in the process.
Miss Fair helped the Ochil to his feet and then helped him toward the Caravan. She followed him up and urged on her horse.
?You?ll love where we?re going Mister.? After a beat ?You don?t talk much do you??
The Ochil let his head loll around as he felt consciousness start to slip.
?That?s ok Mister. I like to talk. Saying now we?re friends you might as well call me Lucy.?
The carriage continued across The Flats with only the light of the Moon to guide them.
Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/GFzHnOz9m-U/viewtopic.php
kim zolciak travis pastrana quinton coples a.j. jenkins riley reiff david decastro aj jenkins
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