Out of Character: On the fifth day of Christmas a Han Solo gave to me, a tai fighter in a docking bay--- *Shot'd for being a dork* @____@
IC: Woozer raised his upper lip, exposing his canines, but made no move to attack the inquisitive paramite. Vaguely Lou remembered a time when Woozer would shred anything he liked; those days had all but vanished since then. Woozer was too old to pick fights with anybody anymore. Lou nodded at the sherrif. "Why we standin' around here for? Lets go give a big ol' western welcome to the new guy!" She nudged Woozer to his feet with her foot, making the sleg grumble. Out of Coffee: Just a heads up Odd Prodigy, Lou is a talented Steef Hunter and has a gun with her, and is heading to the bar now. (We can pretend she didn't notice Umber walking to the bar. ^^) |
OOC: Who's the new guy? I'm a little confused here...:D
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ooc what new guy?
edit: (Did someone like die, couse no one has posted anything for about a day <>_<>) |
Out of Coffee: Wolvie the bartender is the new guy.
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OOC: Yeah. Wolvie the bartender is new to the place. Not sure how long he's been around, but he's fairly new enough that Whyte hasn't met up with him yet. Anyways to Stonetooth, RPGs won't always be played 24/7. Sometimes people get too busy on certain days to really post at all here.
IC: Whyte nodded his head. "Yeah. Let's" The Gluk grunted. "C'mon Kelpy." Whyte said as he saw Kelpy trying to pester the old Woozer Sleg. "Hey Shaskee, I saw Sheamus walk into the Bittersweet Opple. We best be keepin' an eye on him anyway if he's goin' for more drinks than he can handle." |
OOC: Seriously odd prodigy, a steef not covering their legs is like a person running around naked with a nazi symbol planted on their forehead and a 'Shoot me' sign on their back, if he has an ounce of common sense he'll cover those legs before going in a public place.
Sorry about not posting guys, I'll edit this post and do it tommorow as I'm knacked:(. The Bittersweet Opple The purply wolvark hummed and scrubbed dryly at a dark-brown wood wall, sifting some dust away. It was a nice bar, he had to admit. A nice antique wooden place with its planked wood walls, floor, open space, a long bar, round tables with carved-in patterns at the edge and cushioned seats by the bar itself. The glass was old though, the bar and wine glasses had their shine dulled off after years of use and washing. The windows were a little dusty and faded too. He should go open those saloon-style door shutters, he reckoned. The western golden sun was just coming up. He turned his head as the saloon doors were pushed open, then swung behind the odd figure. He widened his beady eyes and peered in utter confusion at Garit. He was wearing a round hat, an old vest, typical Western Mudos gear but...That mask, those mechanical appendages he came in on...The hell was he? Some new race of outlaw? Was he even sentient? "What's on the menu?" The slig asked, his hat covering his red visors. He stopped gawping, then broke into a welcome smile. Those weird mechanical legs for a lack of his own...He must of been rich. He'd never seen a contraption like it. "Well howdy mister! - ...Umm...Vykker?" He laughed nervously, obviously faked for the sake of politeness, and went to look at the kegs and machines. "Ohh, well we got...Opple cider, bit of unfiltered water, eXXXtra-rumsy rum, blackout liquor, expresso, opple juice for the lightweights..." He laughed in his high-pitched voice, as is he hasn't hit puberty yet, if wolvarks even had that sort of development. He gestured with one arm and a beady-eyed smile to the kegs and bottles on display. One seemed to have a black liquid inside past the label, one was displaying three big red XXX's in its title (He had learned that one was strong) and the cider just fizzed away next to a kid-friendly-looking bottle of juice, a cartoon opple displayed on its label. He hoped he wouldn't mind the lack of notable things on display. SoulStorm brewery had exploded, and Sekto Springs bottled water just wasn't bottled anymore. That big, gushing, unfiltered river wasn't helping things either, people would want water on their hot western days. He gave a brief smile and wave at a clakker coming in and saying Howdy (Billy-ray), and resumed scrubbing away. He hoped they wouldn't freak out at seeing a wolvark there. His damn race tended to be a bunch of big boys with guns and the IQ of a peanut. Only things they were good for were taxidermy nowadays, what with Sekto presumably dead. In his thoughts and scrubbing, he failed to notice a steef in plain sight (Umber) ask for some of that thick, throat-burning Honey mead, and sneak out through a window. |
OOC thanks moosh ill keep that in mind YAY a twist already !
IC Umber squinted through the window and saw a wolvark huntress "oh darn its.'' he grumbled he quickly got up from his slouch as he saw they we're headin in side the bar.he clambered through the window and sneaked through a few opple farms to get around them. "oh great i nevers gotts my mead." he said he looked again to the wolvark and her company " even better she knows ta sheriff." he said with frustration. eh trotted back to the lodge where he rocked on his rocking chair his blunder buss near by... |
Sheamus took a quick swig from his pint.
"Heh, I done forgot everyone else knows you as the new guy. They'll think you learned about my usual a-right pretty quick. An' sure thing, I'll be your bodyguard. Don't know much about fightin but I reckon I could swing a barstool well enough. Get me another drink wills ya Wolvie, I reckon I's gonna be in here for quite the long awhile." ~~~~~~~~~~~ Shaskee nodded. "I suppose. Fill the new 'un in on the laws of the land. And Sheamus is harmless enough. When he's drunk, which is often, he dont' tend to hurt anyone but himself, and that's just through silly frolics. Probably best to keep an eye on him though." |
The Bittersweet Opple
The capped wolvark frowned and flicked the grey TV's button, making an unimpressed face as its screen lit up in a flash and died. He muttered and whacked the back of it with its old-fashioned metally ariel, perking up a bit as the dusty little thing finally came on. Though its screen was still blurred and black and white, he could make out the crowd clapping on the Larry Flinger Show, and two seemingly-tranny vykkers yelling at eachother (You could never be sure with vykkers. They all sounded a little like squeaky ugly highschool girls). He let out a hearty laugh, adjusting the arial on the old Tv until it was just visible, the shrieking sound of high-pitched vykker voices piercing the speaker. He left the Tv on the bar and resumed scrubbing away at a wall, waiting for that...Green vykker thing or anyone to take their order. He sighed a little as Sheamus spoke up. He'd want more beers, no doubt. "Heh, I done forgot everyone else knows you as the new guy. They'll think you learned about my usual a-right pretty quick. An' sure thing, I'll be your bodyguard. Don't know much about fightin but I reckon I could swing a barstool well enough. Get me another drink wills ya Wolvie, I reckon I's gonna be in here for quite the long awhile." "Sure thang, sure thang..." He replied, swiping the black liquor from the shelf. Whilst as potent as vodka, it had an awfully bitter taste to it. Perhaps that'd put him off before he could get smashed. If he saw someone getting smashed, no doubt he'd want to join in and get smashed himself. He smiled innocently and pushed the large wine glass of black alcohol to him. "'ere ya go, somethin' heavy for you." He laughed a bit, shaking his head a little. "Now that's crazy-talk, a stool is no good against them outlaws, they got guns..." He peered at a framed window near the saloon doors in thought. "Need someone big an' strong, who c'n use a gun..." Before he could think to snap his fingers and make an offer, the saloon doors burst open and three shrieking chippunks charged/bounced in. He groaned and facepalmed hard against his short muzzle, picking up his broom with a determined face. "Rowdy lil' bastards...One moment guys, jus' git yer own beers while I...Deal with...This." He smiled dumbly, feeling the Chill pills take its toll. His pupils widened as he hummed happily, walking after the darting animals and swinging the broom in what could look like feigned slow motion. "Out yous goooo...Baaad lil' critturs..." The ground The sleepy woman opened her beady eyes, coughing and screwing her face up as some dust got in her face. She rubbed her little eyes frantically, getting up and brushing dust off her tattered brown dungarees. She began folding up her old blanket, stuffing the thick, folded material into a bulgy pocket. She eyed the glukkon and fellow wolvark with a tired smile, twirling and staggering closer. It felt fun to fall over on something soft, or just to...Fall around. "G'daaaay, persons..." She yawned, poking her big toe through her worn black boot. She twiddled her her tooth, feather and bottlecap necklace, peering up at Whyte Urp. He looked a little peculiar. Was he a vykker or the Sheriff...? Wilma 'Weirdy' forgot a lot. |
IC: Garit looked up after being called a green vykker. This wolvark didn't seem to know that he was a slig. But Garit didn't care. "Actually I'm a slig," He said as he recalled that sligs weren't around alot in the western mudos, "Just got here..." The wolvark then said something about getting their own beers or whatever. Assuming that meant he didn't have to wait for him to serve he got up and went behind the bar. Grabbing a pint he filled it with some Opple Cider. As he sat back down on his seat he covered his face again as he sipped a small bit of it. It wasn't too bad. Taking a gulp he then rested his pint back on the table. Wondering how much the drink would cost, he pulled out his own wallet. It didn't seem quite as full as last time. What had he used it on? Straining to think back, all he could remember was some kind of card game. Sighing he wondered what he would do for money here. But before he got some income he would need some kind of food that wasn't liquor. "Anything that isn't a drink?" He asked.
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Whyte Urp's only response to his Chronicler friend Shaskee was a gruff nod. "Well. We've been standing 'ere long enough. Let's g get some drinks. Eh?" Whyte folded his arms into his pitch black poncho. It isn't a disability, a problem, or anything really. It's just his habit to keep his arms hidden. Probably to look like a 'normal' Glukkon. He tromped on over to the Bittersweet Opple. Whyte looked up at the large sign on the building with passing memories. He remembered how big of a tycoon this place was back then when he just moved into Spittoonstone. Sheamus was a rather comical sight back then and drunken Outlaws were always a languoring problem around town. One reason why Whyte joined up as authority in this town in the first place ......
"G'daaay persons." croaked out a familiar voice. "Aww shucks ..... G'day Wierdy -- I mean -- Wilma." Wierdy Wilma the wolvark. Whyte has had plenty of negative runins with her. Poor Wolvark seems to be askin' for some type of shining help. Wilma's voice seemed dry. Like her throat got caked in after eating a pile of dust and dirt. "Well uh ..... miss Wilma, we were .... on our way to the Bittersweet Opple. Ya know, givin' the new guy some basic advice 'ere." |
Lou opened the door to the Bittersweet Opple and peered inside, Woozer leaning in close behind. She saw a drunk-looking clakker sitting at the bar, and a wolvark struggling to kill chippunks with a broomstick.
"Out yous goooo...Baaad lil' critturs..." The wolvark said in a delusional voice. Lou scowled, tapping the wolvark smartly on the chest. "Say, 're you the new guy? Guess you are- say, you don't look so good." She grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and steered him towards a chair sitting nearby. "Maybe you oughta set down, ya look like someone just hit you b'tween the eyes with a brick or somethin'." She glanced back over her shoulder, frowning when she realized that Sherrif Whyte wasn't in the bar yet. |
Lou opened the door to the Bittersweet Opple and peered inside, Woozer leaning in close behind. She saw a drunk-looking clakker sitting at the bar, and a wolvark struggling to kill chippunks with a broomstick.
"Out yous goooo...Baaad lil' critturs..." The wolvark said in a delusional voice. Lou scowled, tapping the wolvark smartly on the chest. "Say, 're you the new guy? Guess you are- say, you don't look so good." She grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and steered him towards a chair sitting nearby. "Maybe you oughta set down, ya look like someone just hit you b'tween the eyes with a brick or somethin'." She glanced back over her shoulder, frowning when she realized that Sherrif Whyte wasn't in the bar yet. |
IC: "Maybe you oughta set down, ya look like someone just hit you b'tween the eyes with a brick or somethin'." Garit looked up again to see what was going on. The wolvark was being steered down into a chair and the newcomer was right. He didn't look too good. The newcomer, turned out to be another wolvark but female. Not wanting to attract attention, he lowered his head again, as he stared down at the table.
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After hearing the announcement that the bartender said to get your own drinks, he eaglerly headed back behind the bar.
He pulled out a big mug and poured himself some Opple Cider. He then headed back over to his chair, watching the stumbling wolvark with amusement, and noticing the steadily growing amount of people that had come in. He was thinking about getting up to great them, but, nah, he thought, i'd prefer to drink my Opple Cider. After gulping his drink, he headed back to get another, and then another... -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Odd dummit I can't wait! We might as well head over to that damn clakkerz house now!" Cannibal Mort said to his second-in-command, Kert. "But boss, what if he's there?" Kert said in a questioning tone. "Fool, we have more gun power than that lil' punk! Now, if you try to disagree, you know what's going to happen, don't ya' know Kert?" Mort said, his mouth forming into a grin under it's protective metal plate. "Alright, alright. Boys! Get over here!" Kert called, and the four who were chosen to help had come. "Now, Mort says we should head out now, so, sense he's the boss, we'll do as he says. Got it?" They nodded. "Good. Lead the way, boss!" Kert said. "I don't need no inbred midgit to tell me to lead the way..." Mort said in response. Although Mort said this, Kert knew he didn't really mean it, as they had been good friends for a long time. Once they started off from the base and left a reasonable outlaw in charge, Mort pointed out to a building, about 15 miles off, isolated by itself. "That's our target, so we should be there in maybe a hour or so, an' knowin Billy-Ray, he should be out soci-alizin...." (The way that Cannibal Mort knows Billy-Ray is that Mort was the outlaw boss that burned down Billy-Ray's home town. They used to be "friends" commonly trading information and other things to get higher in the food chain. But one day Billy-Ray gave some information to the local Sheriff, and Mort knew that they had to raid the place before they could assemble a fightin' force of militia clakkerz to go push Mort's gang out of the land, and hopefully kill him.) |
OOC: I'll use my current RP character, Aileana. I hope it's okay. Tryin' to revive this thing if that's cool. If there's anything you want me to edit or somethin' please let me know? ()
Name: Aileana Species: Steef Age: 20s? Maybe.. equivalent to a hooman's. c: Gender: Female (O NOES) Appearance: Being a Steef is tough. Her fur is a light, brownish-tan, very thick, and covers her body. Her muzzle is broad, although feminine, with a very feline shape. After all, it is the head of a lion. Beneath the hat her head is round, but it's hard to see, what with her dark brown hair covering it. It is long, although she usually braids it to keep it out of the way. She has bangs and they cover much of her forehead and mostly part to the side. Her ears are large and have little tufts of fine hair that sprout from the tips. The fur on her ears is thin. Her neck is thick, but not massed with muscle. The fur thickens as it travels down towards her chest. Her breasts are average size, and nothing too large or small. They are also furry. It trails down to her torso, which is slender and flat, although not with muscle. It's just flat. Shoulders are slender and feminine, and her arms are very long. Above the elbows they are slender, and although the muscle is visible it is not pronounced. Her elbows stick out and her forearms are large, but not as large as they could be. Her hands are large as well, but the fingers are somewhat slender, and the nails are thick and clawlike. Where her torso ends, the furry deer body begins. The second pair of shoulders are more muscled than the first, and the legs are slender and cervine, with cloven hooves. The hind legs are much the same. Her back is sloped and her tail is rather short. She's not nearly as fast or as strong as she should be, although she's still agile and greatly enjoys giving people a run for their money. But she rarely does it now, as in order to perform at her best she has to be without clothing - well, pants anyway. When out in public, she always wears a dress - or a hoopskirt, posing as a classic lady. However, in case of perverts - or suspicious folk, she has a pair of those white fluffy leggings to disguise her legs, and long, knee-high boots to assist that. The dress may come in various colors, and it does well to disguise her. She never wears gloves, and instead always has a string or a rubber band tied around a finger. Her teeth aren't filed down, but she rarely shows them off or anything. Occupation (If any): None, really, but she's good with computers to balance out her lack of physical aptitude. She can repair most electronics. She's very interested in repairing firearms, but is still new to the field. For the most part she travels doing odd jobs for cash. Personality: Alieana is what one would call a geek. Or a nerd, whatever the case. If it exists in letters, numbers, or on the Internet, Ali has probably researched it. Her brain is full of Internet lingo, complicated mathematical equations and possibly a dictionary or two. However, she is not the most physically active steef on the plains. In fact, she is fortunate she has a high metabolism. Generally, her time is spent on her World of Oddcraft online RPG or fixing computers. Personality-wise, she's sarcastic, adventurous, and seems to think life is some kind of game. She loves to mess around and tease people, and often she is told to get serious. She rarely mentions her own kind and doesn't like to talk about it. In a way, she's deeply upset about the fate of her race and just tries to live her life the best she can. It's caused her to grow and dislike what she is. Not enough to get rid of it, but enough to hate being herself unless the situation calls. On the rare occasion she spots another Steef, she often finds herself criticizing the other mentally without even realizing it. Equipment: A small, handy orange plastic toolbox. Inside it are tools - and a smaller toolbox with even smaller tools. For those hard-to-reach places. She also has her moolah, which she stuffs in her shirt. History: Born in the Old West, during a time when Steef were relatively plentiful, her life and childhood was normal. However, when she was eleven, Sekto came. At first they tried to hide, but when her father never came back one day, her mother took her away - far to the east. They traveled for weeks, and her mother taught her how to hide her legs and never tell anyone what she was. When they reached the east, not too far from various Mudokon settlements, they managed to escape Sekto's threat. But news and rumors of Steef spread far and wide and soon, her mother became sick from worry and stress. A lump had formed in her stomach and eventually killed her. But then she forgot the ways of the Steef. Ail moved away from there and lived her life as best she could, not wanting to remember her past. She was found and adopted by a kind old lady that kept her secret. When she discovered computers, she found an escape from the loneliness that plagued her, and absorbed herself in them. Eventually she found herself back in the old west, in a town she'd never been in before. This time, it wasn't to find other steef. Now, to be honest, she could really care less about finding her own kind. She wants money - money of her own to prove she's more than just a stupid animal. But she's the only one she can prove it to. Pets: She has a pet Fuzzle named Spike. She found Spike in the wild and since Steef are very comfortable in nature (even Ail admits she likes being in the woods), decided to take him home. The Fuzzle, who had been a baby and was being bullied by some young Clakkers, was all too happy to go with her. It seems to adore her and always sits somewhere on her - whether it's on her head or inside her shirt or under her skirt. Should anyone dare to reach for it they might pull back their hand with a nasty surprise. |
nice character. I don't think it's that most of the people aren't doing this RP anymore, it's probably because they just got back from vacations and what not. So i'm expecting this to come back alive later this week.
I liked the "World of Oddcraft". Haha. (I'm just waiting for someone to reply from my last post) |
OOC: I hope this RPG hasn't died yet. However, I figured people were just busy with their wintery vacations, and will HOPEFULLY come back soon enough.
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Ooc: I'm not on any vacation. I'm just sort of waiting... For something other.
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Can i play an Bartender?
name: Vykko species: Outlaw Dynamite Spec (Throws Dynamite&Bombs at you..) age: 34 gender: male appearance: Has very long teeth,Green skin Color and he has many scares. He too misses one eye,and has an Robot Arm. And a Big Box o' Dynamite on his back :D . personality: he is a tough guy,and if hes mad,he just kicks or shoots your butt outta the Bar. equipment: He Has an Dynamite Backpack,and a gun,wears an White Dirty Shirt,and Brown Pants. He Wears a Mexican Hat too,and wears not shoes. history: He was a Barkeeper here for many years. Almost everyone knows,and dislikes him. But,his friends are very happy with him. |
Vykko got out of his bad,and lazy opened the door.
He goes downstairs. He opens the door and sets the bord with the "Open you PooBrains!" Text. |
Erm no you can't, firstly because they wouldn't welcome an outlaw as bartender and secondly because that position is already taken.
Sorry for not posting, I got distracted by the holidays then got flu. I'll try later. |
OOC:And as one other reason why you can't be the bartender, you didn't wait for permision when you posted again.
Now try reading the rules of RPGing and the rest of the RPG. And maybe if it's not too much trouble improve your english, and maybe make your posts a little more... Interesting. I'm sorry but it seems that you really don't get any of this RPG stuff. I feel I should by writing some IC but... I'm kind of waiting for the going-ons in the bar to get going.:D |
Ok, the bartender is running around, loaded on pain pills, the sheriff entered, the outlaws are on the way to billy-rays house to burn it down, if he is in it or not, and pretty much everyone is getting drunk at the bar. Can we not continue this? I know damn well most of the people still get on...
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SIGH. I myself have grown old with this RPG. Nobody's replying aside from these OOC posts. I give up. If anybody wants to continue the RPG, go ahead, but Sherrif Whyte Urp won't be joinin' in.
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Ok, first off, its not about a bar. But right now, everyone is drinking at the bar and what not. And second, chronicler, you can't give up on a rpg once you create it. It's like your baby. And if you are getting tired of no one posting in character posts, than post a IC yourself. I did the last post, and you guys aparently have all just given up and stopped caring about this rpg. So, if you are really going to give up on the rpg, then we will need someone to take over as the sheriff. I'm not living, because I know this rpg is continue, unless we are continued to be filled with lazy people that have the time to post out of character but just for some reason don't feel like posting in character. So, i'm not giving up on this.
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Chrinicler... You're the creator, I assume you had a vision with it... It needs maintainence :) |
Well, perhaps I was going too far with what I said, I had thoughts about continueing this RPG just this afternoon anyways. However, as of now I don't geel like going too deep. W@RF V.9 catches my interest. I might continue this RPG with hope, but as of now, it does not interest me. I know, I'm cruel to my own creations.
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Of course we won't be able to continue without the bartender either... Or Lou for that matter.:D |