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((This is my idea for the start of the rp. Feel free to incorporate your character into this rp in any way based off of the post below. Any part of it can be changed if you'd like, just pm me about it.))
It was a hot, sunny day as usual in the town of Abeline, Kansas in the year of 1881. Men and women were going about their days. Most were at work while the gunslingers were in the saloon looking to either spend their latest bounty money on women or liquor, or listen for gossip about new bounties.
However, to interrupt that normal, quiet day, a man rode up on a white stallion. He was dressed much like the gunslingers, and he carried two Colt Single Action Army six shot revolver pistols in holsters strapped on to either leg. He led his horse to the watering hole in front of the saloon and tied it up to a peg not too far from the watering hole so that it could drink while he was inside.
He made his way to the two saloon doors which he pushed aside with his body. As he stepped inside, he could hear the loud mouth of a man sitting at one of the bar tables. He was surrounded by several of the cathouse girls and had a couple empty bottles of scotch on the table he sat at and he poured from a third one into a glass. "That's right, ladies! I am the notorious Deadeye Ó’Deargáin. The fastest hand this side of America!" he downed the scotch from the glass before continuing his speech, "I'm the one who killed that Two Face Tommy in a duel! I also fought back a hundred savage Injins with nuth'n but my revolver, twelve bullets and a survival knife!"
The man who had entered the saloon not too long before had made his way to the man telling all these stories. "Now, I ain't believe you're the real Deadeye Ó’Deargáin. You might change my mind 'bout it if'n you pass a little test," he said, with some sternness in his voice. The man previously telling the tales had turned around to face the man who had just accused him of not being who he said he was. "You callin' me a liar! I ain't gotta prove noth'n to nobod-...!" his sentence came to a sudden stop once he caught a glimpse of his accuser's face. He gulped heavily, and his accuser spoke once more, "C'mon now, boy! The real Deadeye Ó’Deargáin wouldn't shy away from no puny challenge, would'e? Just try it! Barkeep!" he shifted his voice towards the man behind the bar counter, serving the drinks. "Put a cork in that bottle there," after pouring out some scotch for a customer, the barkeep did as he was told. "Now, 'Deadeye', just shoot the cork off the bottle. Simple stuff for a man like you, huh?"
The man who claimed to be Deadeye Ó’Deargáin nodded and got up from his barstool hesitantly. He removed his very crude pistol from the holster on his right side and aimed with trembling hands at the bottle. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened as he forgot to cock the gun. He tried once more, pulling back the hammer and grasping hard at the trigger. The bullet barely missed the barkeep and the man went stumbling back a few steps from the force of the gun.
His accuser laughed before giving the barkeep with now soaked trousers a new order, "Spin the bottle! What're ya standin' 'round for! I said spin!" The barkeep did as he was told out of fear. The man took the revolver holstered on his right and shot it with nothing but hipfire. The bullet hit the cork of the spinning bottle, launching it right out. The man turned to face the one who previously claimed to be Deadeye Ó’Deargáin and spoke to him in a scolding manner. "Now I ain't got a problem with you using my name for some free booze and Bettys, but make sure that if you claim to be a Deadeye, you can good and well shoot like one. If you try this again without having the skills of a Deadeye, the cork of a bottle won't be the only thing takin' a bullet. Now go on! Run like hell 'fore I send ya there!"
With this, the man who previously claimed to be Deadeye Ó’Deargáin ran through the saloon, tripping over his feet once or twice. The real Deadeye had now taken his seat, his scotch and his women. He placed his arm around the shoulder of two of them and spoke, "Sorry, hunnies. No woman should have to hear the sound of gunshots. It ain't right. For that, I sincerely apologise. Oh my! I ain't even introduce myself. The name's Irial Ó’Deargáin, but you lot can just call me Deadeye."
It was a hot, sunny day as usual in the town of Abeline, Kansas in the year of 1881. Men and women were going about their days. Most were at work while the gunslingers were in the saloon looking to either spend their latest bounty money on women or liquor, or listen for gossip about new bounties.
However, to interrupt that normal, quiet day, a man rode up on a white stallion. He was dressed much like the gunslingers, and he carried two Colt Single Action Army six shot revolver pistols in holsters strapped on to either leg. He led his horse to the watering hole in front of the saloon and tied it up to a peg not too far from the watering hole so that it could drink while he was inside.
He made his way to the two saloon doors which he pushed aside with his body. As he stepped inside, he could hear the loud mouth of a man sitting at one of the bar tables. He was surrounded by several of the cathouse girls and had a couple empty bottles of scotch on the table he sat at and he poured from a third one into a glass. "That's right, ladies! I am the notorious Deadeye Ó’Deargáin. The fastest hand this side of America!" he downed the scotch from the glass before continuing his speech, "I'm the one who killed that Two Face Tommy in a duel! I also fought back a hundred savage Injins with nuth'n but my revolver, twelve bullets and a survival knife!"
The man who had entered the saloon not too long before had made his way to the man telling all these stories. "Now, I ain't believe you're the real Deadeye Ó’Deargáin. You might change my mind 'bout it if'n you pass a little test," he said, with some sternness in his voice. The man previously telling the tales had turned around to face the man who had just accused him of not being who he said he was. "You callin' me a liar! I ain't gotta prove noth'n to nobod-...!" his sentence came to a sudden stop once he caught a glimpse of his accuser's face. He gulped heavily, and his accuser spoke once more, "C'mon now, boy! The real Deadeye Ó’Deargáin wouldn't shy away from no puny challenge, would'e? Just try it! Barkeep!" he shifted his voice towards the man behind the bar counter, serving the drinks. "Put a cork in that bottle there," after pouring out some scotch for a customer, the barkeep did as he was told. "Now, 'Deadeye', just shoot the cork off the bottle. Simple stuff for a man like you, huh?"
The man who claimed to be Deadeye Ó’Deargáin nodded and got up from his barstool hesitantly. He removed his very crude pistol from the holster on his right side and aimed with trembling hands at the bottle. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened as he forgot to cock the gun. He tried once more, pulling back the hammer and grasping hard at the trigger. The bullet barely missed the barkeep and the man went stumbling back a few steps from the force of the gun.
His accuser laughed before giving the barkeep with now soaked trousers a new order, "Spin the bottle! What're ya standin' 'round for! I said spin!" The barkeep did as he was told out of fear. The man took the revolver holstered on his right and shot it with nothing but hipfire. The bullet hit the cork of the spinning bottle, launching it right out. The man turned to face the one who previously claimed to be Deadeye Ó’Deargáin and spoke to him in a scolding manner. "Now I ain't got a problem with you using my name for some free booze and Bettys, but make sure that if you claim to be a Deadeye, you can good and well shoot like one. If you try this again without having the skills of a Deadeye, the cork of a bottle won't be the only thing takin' a bullet. Now go on! Run like hell 'fore I send ya there!"
With this, the man who previously claimed to be Deadeye Ó’Deargáin ran through the saloon, tripping over his feet once or twice. The real Deadeye had now taken his seat, his scotch and his women. He placed his arm around the shoulder of two of them and spoke, "Sorry, hunnies. No woman should have to hear the sound of gunshots. It ain't right. For that, I sincerely apologise. Oh my! I ain't even introduce myself. The name's Irial Ó’Deargáin, but you lot can just call me Deadeye."
This is a very interesting idea for an rp.
You're a very talented writer.
You're a very talented writer.
im interested. i have just the character
this is really interesting! I love your writing style, very exciting! And your character seems really hecking cool. I'm interested, may I PM you with ideas?
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