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Author Topic:   Just General Stupidness
posted May 15, 1999 03:44 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Stonewall   Click Here to Email Stonewall     Edit Message
Afraid to let this mighty forum die...where are all of you?

Darkness...thick, hot night...there are tumbleweeds rolling down the Main Street of Thief Town...Marshal Stonewall, looking suspiciously like Clint Eastwood, steps out of The Bucket of Blood Saloon and surveys the quiet scene...sticking to the shadows, the new Marshal walks slowly down the wooden sidewalk...the echoes from his bootheels clocking back from across the deserted street...

The Town Drunk shambles up to the horse trough and dunks his head...The Marshal watches from the shadows, not even seeing this all-too-common sight...his mind is on the disturbing lack of humanity in town...

It's quiet he muses too quiet...

Across the street, a curtain is pulled back, and a worried face peeks out at the lone sentinel of the night...a horse whickers in a nearby paddock...a grey tomcat slinks like a wraith under the sidewalk...

Far away, in the silence of utter high desert darkness, a sound...hoofbeats...regular, steady, coming fast...Marshal Stonewall loosens the six-shooter in the holster...for he has just realized the deadly implications of that monotonous, drumming noise...

It's Real Life the realization hits hard, like the impact of a bullet Real Life, out of prison, and coming to settle his score with this town, like he said he would on the day Judge Nightfall sentenced him to oblivion...

There is no time for a fancy plan...no time for reenforcements...The Marshal steps into the street to meet the onrushing threat...

Him or me...this time, it's him or me...

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks...

posted May 15, 1999 07:48 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for GreyMouser   Click Here to Email GreyMouser     Edit Message
Darn. Thought I savor this day, after having worked through the night and the last few days.
A Grey Mouser lurchs into his house, weary from battling bugs and chasing mice. He takes a seat and watches from a safe distance.
Tis gonna be a good fight, hm. I bet on the Marshal.
His gaze casually sweeps the scenery. He muses what happened to Fang.

posted May 15, 1999 07:48 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for GreyMouser   Click Here to Email GreyMouser     Edit Message
I better get me some cold drink before the action starts.

[This message has been edited by GreyMouser (edited May 15, 1999).]

posted May 15, 1999 10:51 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Jennie   Click Here to Email Jennie     Edit Message
Jennie keeps a careful eye out from her hiding place under the Mayor Lytha's porch. The dried leaves of the once flourishing grape rustle like the pages of an old book. She contemplates the hardware store, there just might be some wire in there. Now if there are some appropriate pillars along the street she can even some odds for the valient Marshal; yes, just there, between Minster Fang's church and Kyloe's library.

She slinks under the boardwalks and around the back of Shade's Hardware Store, where a few quick seconds with the wonky catch on the window allows her entrance. Even better than wire, she finds some high test fishing line and some staples. Careful to close the window behind her, she flits to the church and defaces one pillar with a staple about neck height for a horseman. Quickly she attaches the fishing line, and makes a run for the shadows of the library entrance. A repeat of her previous activities produces the warm feeling of a job well done.

Reality is about to take a fall.

[This message has been edited by Jennie (edited May 15, 1999).]

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