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About Wade

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  1. LotE: The Descent

    It wasn’t every day Floria Vyse held a gun. If the fates were kind, she would never have to hold one ever again. Her small adolescent hands, hands untouched by any sort of dirty work in their life, gripped the cannon with a quiet mixture of fear and excitement. It was heavier than she had expected. Scarier too, somehow, now that it submitted to her. At her age, it was almost like holding a kitchen knife for the first time- only this knife could kill with a thought. Floria looked back and found her father watching from afar, among other caravan members who’d taken interest. His eyes shone like pools of crystal glass under the desert sun, and a knowing smile played on his lips. “Ready?” Teddy asked. Floria held her gaze. It wasn’t until her father nodded (for the second time that day) that she felt confident enough to respond. “Ready,” she echoed, eyes swivelling out front. On a flat stone thirty meters away, two glass bottles stood apart by the approximate length of a grown man’s arm. From behind his sleek hunter’s helmet, Teddy spoke. “Shoulders.” Floria complied, squaring her posture just as they had practiced. The gunslinger, satisfied, circled around to the leftmost corner of her vision, cloak fluttering listlessly behind him. “Legs,” he continued, to which Floria bent her knees and positioned her feet at opposing seventy degree angles. Teddy paused, waited, then circled once more. “Gun up.” In one cautious motion, Floria pointed the revolver. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, past her chin, as she slowly thumbed back the hammer. “Whenever you’re ready.” “Okay.” Floria took a deep breath. ... The trigger yielded against her finger more easily than she could’ve possibly imagined. In the half-second it took to pull it, Floria thought the weapon might have been a toy; but then the revolver reared, like a wild stallion bucking for its freedom, and she nearly yelped as its thunder shattered the desert stillness. The spiderweb crack of exploding glass followed instantly, and in its wake a breezy silence reigned. Behind her, the crowd stared wordlessly. Then, abruptly, everyone burst into cheers. Had Floria turned around, she wouldve've seen her father throwing his hands to the sky. Through the sharp ring needling hers ears, she heard someone shout, “You still got one more!” and it took her a moment to register these words before she reanimated with a kind of dazed focus. CRRRRAAAAAAAACK! The second bottle popped out of existence, confetti-style. Another chorus surged behind Floria, and all at once a tidal wave of triumph and exhilaration threatened to overtake her- and overtake her it did. An ear-to-ear smile spread across her eleven-year-old face, and she whipped around, suddenly oblivious to the loaded gun in her hands. The caravan shrunk back faster than Teddy could think, Oh mah lawrd. “That was fucking awesome!” Floria boomed. Teddy was on the gun in a flash. “Hey hey hey!” He plucked it from the girl's hands as easily as he would a blade of grass, then wagged a finger in her direction. “Language!” Floria didn’t seem to hear him, nor acknowledge his bogus gesture. “Can we do that again?” Teddy blinked. He glanced upwards, as if the clouds had an answer for him, then zipped right back to Floria. “Again?” Floria’s nod said more than words could have, though that didn’t stop her from using them anyway. “C’mon, pleeeaaaase.” “I think that’s enough playtime for today!” This came from Floria’s father, who rushed over to plant his large, weathered hands along her slender shoulders. “How about you head back and help everyone get ready? It’s almost time to go, you know." “But-“ Floria protested. “Listen to your dad, kiddo.” Teddy was busy holstering his weapon. "I don’t need you dropping any more F-bombs on this caravan.” “But-“ Floria meant to say something yet couldn’t seem to find the words. She went on like this for a few seconds, hopelessly stuttering on the edge of a syllable. Eventually her face turned pouty and she whipped around, ready to stalk off dramatically as children often do. “Hey, slow down a sec." Against her better judgement, Floria did slow down. She threw a glance over her shoulder, and saw Teddy holding up a thumb. “Nice shooting,” he said, this time with complete sincerity. Floria weighed his thumb with her eyes, saying nothing. She turned and walked away before the bounty hunter could see her smile. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Teddy watched her go. “Mr. Vyse, I swear I didn’t teach her that word.” “Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Vyse said, patting Teddy on the back. “She learned that one from me a long time ago." They both laughed. “Guess you know what to get her for her birthday.” As an afterthought, Teddy added, “She’s a natural." “Yeah well, we’ll see,” the caravan leader tempted. “She could definitely use one, what with the times and all.” He drew in a deep sigh, and the entirety of his years caught up to him in that brief moment. “You sure you don’t want to come with us past the Valley? We'd be happy to bump your pay if that’s what you’re after. Lord knows you’re worth the coin.” “You’re too kind, chief,” Teddy conceded, switching his gaze to the mountains in the distance. “But I’d like to stick around for the end of the world just a little bit longer. Maybe add ‘dragon slayer’ to my resume if the iron gets hot." Mr. Vyse chuckled, not entirely without concern. “Just be careful, alright? Floria’ll have something to say if she finds out you’re a corpse.” “I imagine you’ll teach her a new swear for the occasion.” The two men laughed again, knowing it would be the last time they’d do so before parting ways in a few hours. They shook hands like old friends in spite of their short time together, and soon began preparing for their trip into the Valley. I need a drink. It was easily the most clichéd thought the bounty hunter could’ve possibly had as he strolled into town, but the desert, ah, it got your thirst going. And Teddy Leon, ever the connoisseur of cosmopolitans and strawberry daiquiris, was curious to see what Nar Oeste considered ‘girly’. If there was such a thing in this part of the country. Unforgiving as it was, he hoped the people here were at least a little more... open-minded about their sugary drinks- and not so gung-ho on picking fights with those who drank them. Losing a tooth over a Bellini was stupid no matter which way you sliced it. Teddy supposed he’d let matters shake out when he actually got to a bar, which was step numero uno in the quest to appease his sweet tooth. He had already passed an establishment on his way to the bazaar, which looked quaint enough on the outside; then he poked his head through the door and discovered an extra large serving of Alcoholics Anonymous: Gone Wild, where everyone was perpetually plastered and crying and this close to exchanging fists instead of routine sob stories. One particular bartender seemed to be on the verge of joining the chaos, undoubtedly debating whether all these tips were her crowning achievement or her greatest misfortune. Having no intention of walking in and introducing himself- (Hi, my name is Teddy and I’m an alcoholic. Let’s par-tay!) -the gunslinger kept on the move, hopeful that the next joint hadn't yet succumbed to the pressures of war. As Teddy rounded the corner, a distinct voice roared above all else. “GOD DAMN! MY WALLET!” it raged, drawing the attention of several including the bounty hunter’s. His head swivelled in knee-jerk fashion, prompting him to scan the street. The voice in question soared a second time, and when Teddy's eyes found their mark, his heart might as well have taken off with it. God damn, he thought unashamedly, staring. He was a bit of a gawker that way, he knew (something he’d learned from his eleventh grade ex, Piper Castle, after she caught him staring at her ass in gym class), and it was one of many faults he still hoped a New Year’s resolution could fix. At the moment, though, New Year’s was still a good ways away, so he stood idly by, content to observe the jet-haired woman chase after some dinky kid until a peculiar motion finally caught in his peripheral vision. Pulling away, he shifted to the nearby merchant waving in his direction. He met her hand with a upturned finger when no one else seemed to respond. Who me? The merchant (a jeweller, he realized) nodded, hurriedly, in a manner that might’ve said, Yes, you, you idiot. So, Teddy rushed over to her booth. God damn, he thought unashamedly, seeing the jeweller up close. “Can I help you?” he managed, suddenly thankful for his helmet. To this the jeweller replied, “Would you mind following that woman-“ Teddy traced her finger to the handsome knight from mere moments ago. “-and bringing her back here? I’ll pay you for your trouble.” The gunslinger was philosophic at the jeweller’s request. If putting money into his pocket was the universe’s way of introducing him to two fine young women, who was he to say no? “Consider it done,” the gunslinger decided, spinning on his heel in pursuit of the knight.
  2. Legend of the Emblem: The Descent

    I'll bite, if you'll have me again. Most likely with Teddy.
  3. Oh geez

    I'm way too fickle for my own good. Before I say anything else, I just want to apologize to some of you for my sudden disappearance. I bit off way more than I could chew, I got lazy, I burned out, and between everything else that was happening in my life, it seemed like I just didn't have the time to keep writing the way I wanted to. I know it's not a valid reason for leaving you guys hanging, and for that I genuinely feel like crap (and I'm genuinely sorry). I understand if anyone's not too happy with me right now, and accept any tomatoes thrown my way. Coming back, I'm going to try to better manage my time on this site and stay within my means. I'll likely only stick to one to two threads at a time because if I go past that, I won't be able to keep up and then whoopsie daisy there I go again. Anyway, I'm going to cut this short because my sister's yelling at me right now to hurry up so we can watch our show. Once again, sorry to everyone I left behind and I'm looking forward to writing on this site again. @roboblu @Jotnotes @Robbie Rotten @ezkiel777 I'm sure I'm missing a few people there but I'm rushed sooooo
  4. A Chance Getaway [Palgard]

    I thanked Cora with a silent nod, then held up the lighter. It flickered to life at the turn of my thumb, giving birth to a small flame with the curiosity of a three-year-old. It licked at the air excitedly under the protection of a cupped hand, searching, feeling, until it found the butt of my cigarette. All at once the flame magnetized. Wisps of smoke wafted in response, and a soft orange rim burned in its wake. I took a long drag as Cora proceeded to steer the conversation, and bittersweet relief settled in my hot, acrid throat. You might not know this if you don’t smoke, but cigarettes kill your appetite. Completely and utterly. Mine took off faster than a toupee in a hurricane, and it wasn’t coming back for a few good hours. Not because smoking’s gross- actually, that might be part of it -but because nicotine doesn’t play nice with your stomach. Or your mouth, for that matter. It’s all dry and pasty in the aftermath, and the simple thought of eating a shawarma at two in the morning makes you wanna gag. Watching Cora showcase her supplies, I didn’t feel the slightest stir in my stomach. And that’s when I thought to myself, Hey, if we ever run low on food, I know just the trick. When Cora was done, I meant to shift my gaze away. There were dumpy reeds to look at and a lonely toad in need of my attention. Before I could, though, Cora spoke up again. This time about the elephant in the room, the one called ‘Lunch’. I perked up slightly, intrigued. Meanwhile, you didn’t need a PhD in body lingo to know Cora was perking down. She couldn’t seem to finish her sentence at first, and I didn’t blame her. Words are hard. I waited patiently. For an extra long three seconds, she refused to make eye contact with me. Then, where I was expecting an apology, I got this: "... I got real sick. I think it was the soup. Didn't want to puke everywhere, you know?" You did’t need a PhD in body lingo to know I was unimpressed. I was on the verge of raising an eyebrow when she saved herself with this: "It was good, though. The lunch, I mean. It was, just ... it was nice." I eyed her evenly, weighing her statement. Under the exhale of a grey cloud, I replied, “Yeah, I guess it was.” I tapped some ashes into the water, and flashed her a tepid half-smile. Not the kind that forgave and forgot, but the kind that said, I get it. At least in terms of what she meant. “Look, I’m not going to ask what that was really about, but if you ever wanna talk, I’ll be right here. Literally, I’m not going anywhere.” I motioned to my half of the skiff. “Anyway,” I continued, moving past the topic. “Let me know when you want to switch off rowing. I might take a nap soon."
  5. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Consider me AFV up until ~Friday~ I don't have enough time for Valucre right now between work and two essay finals, sorry
  6. The Cardwell Masquerade Party OOC

    I'm going to skip my turn. Between work and two essay finals, I won't have much time for writing during the next few days
  7. The Cardwell Masquerade Party

    You had me at “I’ll give you a few moments to prepare yourself.” Like god damn, I’m so wet- Seriously though, that was a bad move. Like ‘I can’t believe they didn’t run the ball’ kind of bad. Everyone knows you don’t announce yourself to the enemy, let alone hand them a freebie. Except this guy, apparently. I’m guessing he didn’t watch a lot of TV, ‘cause he was all up in that bad guy routine. Slow march of doom (check), arrogant underestimation (check), chihuahua-style grrr (cheeeeck)- it was all there. You could even see his poodle-sized brain from how far back his nose tilted. It was almost comical. I couldn’t help but grin a little in spite of the warning bells blaring in my head. In fact, I was almost tempted to sprinkle more cliché on the cake in the form of witty banter. Sadly, I didn’t get to fire off so much as a quip. Moon Moon over there decided it was a better idea to make a beeline straight for me, no questions asked. I repeat, not a single fucking question. You wanted last words? Well, tough shit, those don’t fly anymore. Neither did the fact that you were staff. To Moon Moon, it was okay to just eat your coworkers even if they had a valid excuse for being downstairs. Normally my first thought would've been, BATTLE STATIONS!, but here it was more along the lines of, Zip zoop, it’s dinnertime at the Cardwells’. And then, Wow, did this guy miss orientation or something? I had more than enough time to whip out my revolver (Hello!), and take aim. Moon Moon's warning got me kicking into high gear, and there were few things quicker than a gunslinger’s hands. The corridor was long and narrow, and the space between us, approximately a dozen meters, lessened with each ferocious step. No matter how speedy his reflexes, I couldn’t see him dodging six deadeye shots at this range- each of them fired in lightning succession. The .45 rounds would tear through his armour like a hot knife through butter, then handicap him if they didn’t outright kill him. At least, that was my assumption. For all I knew, he wore adamantium or could catch bullets with his teeth. And if that was case, I was pretty much boned. I shrugged inwardly and fired.
  8. The Cardwell Masquerade Party

    With my swanky new uniform, I was nothing more than a boring ad in the Blairville Daily. Flickering gazes skimmed past me without looking back, and not even the guards, ever so vigilant, suspected the handsome blonde caterer making his way to the staff area. And why would they, when there were a bunch of drunk yahoos to watch out for? They were the real problem. I was just another guy getting paid by the hour on a Friday night, except I dealt in wine and cheese instead of lead. Just as I was starting to feel invisible, a certain someone bumped into me. I turned around expecting a guest; you can imagine my alarm when I found the big bad wolf instead. He towered over me by a solid four feet, like I was some six-year-old who had ‘till puberty before he could get on the rides. As a guy who was used to doing all the towering himself, it was a strange feeling. Mildly degrading, as well. Shit, was this how dwarves felt? Was I a dwarf to this guy? ‘Cause if he so much as pulled a midget joke on me, he’d lose his cojones by the end of the night. I didn’t let him know that, though. As far as he was concerned, the polite smile on my face was the genuine article. He mumbled a quick apology and something about a patrol, and then he was off in the same direction I’d been headed in. I slowed my roll and watched him disappear through the staff doors, which were located west of the grand staircase in their own corner. At that moment, Dryston buzzed me about his plan and the lady friend (I assumed he was straight) who’d be tagging along. “Copy that, Dryzzy. One of the mutts just went in, so keep an eye out for him.” Walking up to the doors, I slipped the keycard out of my pocket. A faint glow pulsed on the lock when I tapped it, followed by a click as one of the doors swung open to let me in. I stepped through, and on the other side was an empty hallway branching off into various different rooms. The faint smell of something delicious wafted in the air, and I had the sneaking suspicion that the kitchen wasn’t too far away. I was tempted to grab one of the food platters I’d find there and hog it all to myself, but a staircase leading downstairs quickly robbed me of all distracting thoughts. “I found the basement,” I said over comms. “Dryzzy, you close?” In response, there was a quick knock on the door. I unlocked it and let him in, along with his dark-haired catch of the day. “Alright, I’m going downstairs. You two have fun.”
  9. The Cardwell Masquerade Party OOC

    Quick update, home-skillets. I'm gone to a cottage this weekend, from Friday evening to Monday. Presumably, I won't have access to wifi. I won't be able to post until I get back, so if the thread somehow fast tracks its way to my turn, you can either vote to skip me or gimme the extra time to scramble some words and shove them down your throat like an omelette. On that note, I will try to get my post up (it's my turn right now) Friday morning/afternoon before I leave. Basically, sometime tomorrow. If that's not possible, I'll be sure to post here again to let you guys know. Anyway, cheers. Dab on 'em or something like that.
  10. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Quick update, fellas. I'm gone to a cottage this weekend, from Friday evening to Monday. Presumably, I won't have access to wifi. I won't be able to post until I get back, so if the thread somehow fast tracks its way to my turn, you can either skip me or gimme the extra time to scramble some words and shove them down your throat like an omelette. Anyway, cheers. I hope you all have a shitty time without me <3
  11. The First Of Many

    The cabin was an unlikely, albeit pleasant, surprise. When Gekko left for his search, Alice’s expectations had only run so far, the furthest step being a solitary cave large enough to fit half of the crew. Now, they stood in a little piece of manmade shelter, safe from the roaring wind at their doorstep. Most of what Alice read in the basement fell flat the way a boring math lesson did, but she wasn’t stupid. The information here was valuable. Sensitive, maybe. The eggheads back at HQ would have a field day with this, and it was Alice’s intention to make that happen. She started by handing Dingo what seemed important -maps, books, charts- before deciding after an ungodly amount of sifting that all of it was important. “Suck it all up,” she told Dingo, with a round twirl of her finger. And sure enough, he did. Not in the vortex-like fashion her finger had implied, but in the age-old process of grab and drop. It was kind of fascinating, seeing stuff disappear into that tiny ring of his. A little cathartic, too. She imagined anyone who had pushed a pen in their life would be enthused to see all that paperwork magically vanish. Except maybe the owner. There was that to consider. Technically, what they were doing was on par with breaking and entering, followed by theft, and vandalism (things which Alice was already well-acquainted with); they could be court-mortadella'd for this crap. Question was, would they? Alice very much doubted it. She had come to a similar conclusion to Gekko’s, also believing the owner was long gone judging from the information she’d gleamed. And if they weren’t, well, tough luck, Liz. You’re not gonna do squat. 'Cause I'll burn you before I go to jail again. Court-mortadella my ass. Once that bit of business was done and over with, they retreated to the cozy upstairs of the cabin. Cozy being a relatively loose term here. It was nice and dry, there was no rain spitting on their eyeballs, there were even couches and chairs to sit on. Really, the only thing lowering the cabin’s status from four to three starts was its size. The whole crew felt cramped in this small living space, to the point that body odour hung in the air like a damp musk. Alice, being the only woman, felt particularly out of place. She could see more clearly now the glances some of the men gave her, and the cabin only offered so much space for her to wander away from them. Fortunately, Garkarat, Stumpy and Dildo Doe had formed a bit of a barrier around her as they stood by a window. “It’s still pouring,” she commented, more to herself than anyone else. “I think we’re going to be stuck here for a while before we get moving.” Alice glanced at her watch. The day had trickled into late-morning territory. “If it lets up within the next two hours, we move. Otherwise put on your PJs, ‘cause we’re camping here for the rest of the day.” From her pack, she produced a map of the island. “We don’t have a lot of ground left to cover before we reach the mountain. Two days at most. From there on, it should be smooth sailing unless we get struck by more bad luck.” She shrugged, as if to say c’est la vie. “We’ll still make that pit-stop in the village I mentioned, if only to grab a decent meal and a hot shower before bedtime. Unless you have any objections?"
  12. A Chance Getaway [Palgard]

    “Bounty hunting, eh?” I nodded, as if to help digest the information. It wasn’t something I expected from our spunky sailor, but I could see it no problem. She was tough, fearless, a wee bit knife-happy. Surprisingly strong. I was still trying to wrap my head around how she had pinned me to floor earlier. It was like she had Lord Thunder Thigh’s blessing imbued in those little legs of hers, the way she jettisoned me with a single foot. I was afraid that if she flexed her quads, she might rip up her pants Hulk-style. “Moving up in the world,” I concluded, my tone slick with approval. Little did she know that I was picturing her green and angry and yelling ‘CORA SMASH!’ in an apocalyptic bellow. A familiar itch crept up at that moment, and the grin I’d been holding back died a little because of it. Without thinking, I stuck one hand in my pocket and produced a pack of smokes. Thankfully, Palgard didn’t seem to care if you got lung cancer, so there was none of that icky grey packaging to remind me I was slowly killing myself, all so I could look cool. Flicking the top open, I plucked a cigarette. Only as I was about to light it did I remember that I wasn’t the sole passenger on this boat. I looked at Captain Cora (whose last name I realized I didn’t know), and reluctantly withdrew the cigarette from my lips. It rolled between my index and thumb, unsure of itself. May I? it asked. Then, as an afterthought, I don’t suppose you’d want one? “No and yes,” I answered in order of her questions. “At least, I don’t think that’s all of them. They’d have to be a pretty miserable bunch to send all their boys after little ol’ me. If that back there was it, then I guess I’ve got bragging rights on wiping out a whole gang.” Right, because you did all the work, I heard Carter say from the murky depths of E. coli central. I ignored him, focusing on the second question instead. “As for how I’m feeling, I’ll be fine,” I said, an honest smile on my face. "Getting shot at is my bread and butter, remember? You get used to stuff like that, though it sucks that I can’t show my face around Palgard for a while.” I considered that statement for a moment, then decided I didn’t agree; Palgard was a dump I’d be glad to never see again. “On the bright side, I’m not full of holes or missing any fingers.” I wiggled the ones on my right hand in a ‘Look, I can’t believe they’re still there!’ fashion. “To be honest, I’m surprised you’re doing okay. Most people would’ve shat themselves, but you didn’t even’t scream.” The wiggling fingers promptly curled into a thumbs up. Meanwhile, the ones on my other hand rolled the sheepish cigarette impatiently. “Anyway, how far north are you thinking of going?” I asked. “‘Cause if we follow this river, we should hit Tia eventually. Maybe even a town on the way.” I brought forth my pack, and started rummaging around with my free hand. It scooped out a water bottle, then a few snack bars. I held them up briefly before dropping them back in, showing Cora that it was all the food I had. It would probably last two days at most.
  13. The Cardwell Masquerade Party OOC

    Extension is a go. What's going to happen here is that NeonDragon'll post next, then Robbie, then we restart the order like it was before. Wade Bee Neon Robbie Abigail
  14. The Cardwell Masquerade Party OOC

    Post now then, sorry about the mixup
  15. The Cardwell Masquerade Party OOC

    Sorry to hear that, man. Hope things get better soon. If you're not up to posting, then not a problem. We can skip you for now, and you can take all the time you need to recover