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ATTENTION, NEW PLAYERS WANTED!

welcome to this RPG!

First of all, the idea: It all takes part in the wild west. At the end of the civil war. Historical facts, but mixed with grim fantasy. Satanic worshipping is getting more popular. Daemons are to be summoned. Dead confederate and Union soldiers awakened to life by a sorcerous lunatic. Those of you who join, will play as an outlaw (yes an outlaw, no not a zombie soldier or daemon or law keeper, AN OUTLAW!). you must choose your religion. A faithful christian outlaw hunting for corruption and satanic influences, Or be a follower of Satan, practicing daemon worshipping, just slaughtering innocents for the fun of it and such. It's up to you how you will play

Posses of bounty hunters will try to hunt you down, trying to bring you to justice, or just for the money. wether as a misunderstood hero hunting for corruption, or as a mad man.

as a player you will have access to historical weapons and any fantasized weapons you come up with aiding you purging the witch, daemon, satanic murderer, etc(no lasguns or bazookas or something like that), or anything that helps you practicing the dark arts. Like silver bullets to kill summoned daemons etc. (No,there are not going to be vampires or werewolfs.)

don't get it wrong, If you play as a dark, evil satanic worshipper, you are not possesed by a daemon like in whfb or 40k. you just practice the dark arts. and no, noboday can be a daemon.

I got this Idea after reading 2 comic books from a series called Billy Wild, and just searching the web for any suitable artwork or possible avatars.

If you want to join

Then you need to come up with a character, just like mine.

Name: Billy
Age: unknown. some say 18, others say 48 and even others say he is 109 years old and that he is gifted immortality from Satan.
Equipment: 2 engraved colt peacemakers, Grimoire of daemons, lasso, Knife, Henry Repeater rifle, Dynamite, match sticks, a survival peck stored away on his horse.
Mount: A black horse with red glowing eyes, called 'Lucifer'
Faith: Satanic.
Biography: there is not much known about billy's youth. He grow up as a son of a hatter, and Billy followed his fathers profession. he continued to make hats (hence his eccentric hat) until his family was murdered by a trio of catholic priests and their crazed followers, because his family was said to practice dark arts. The priests burned his house, but billy had enough time to recover some items, including the Grimoire of daemons. The grimoire is said to contain all known names of daemons and hellspawn, and how to summon them. he recovered other items, but of no note. Billy became an anarchist and a follower of the dark arts, just like his family. He almost never puts off his hat. being a hatter, he made a hat, and then combined a daemon with his new made hat. when he has hat on, and that is always, you can see nothing of his face. Only his white eyes without pupils. Many were fooled by this, thinking he is blind. In fact he has excellent eyesight. besides his eyes you can also see his jagged scar smile. when bonding the daemon with his hat. (because of this, his face is shadowed by darkness. the bonding did not give the hat his own will, only the effect of shrouding his face.) of course their was a blood offer needed to do this. His own blood was needed. He cut open his cheeks starting from both his mouth edges, and ending behind his ears. And now he literally has a smile 'till behind his ears. A sadistic smile that is. To make him look like a satanic worshipper even more, he tattooed a pattern across his chest. however, nobody knows what this pattern stands for.
Appearence: (see below)



events wil be green
player evevnts will be red

I will draw you a map of the main place of events. A town called Waste-town.
The town is divided into 2 parts. a part where corruption, daemon summoning, cheating, drinking, murdering etc takes place. (dubbed the 'Satanic Part') and a part where fervent catholic faith prevails.




so, that was the idea. Now it's up to you wether you join or not. (please do, unlike my other RPG, I did put a lot of thought on this one.)

Nuke it from orbit. Job done, roleplay over.

bluh bluh... Fine, I'll let this one die as well...

Scrazza wrote:bluh bluh... Fine, I'll let this one die as well...

Was kiddinggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg *hugs* *activates C4 in 'natural hidden compartment'*

Here is my char,ill put up a intro rp tommorow(su,day)

Name: Archax

BIO: in the year 0 when christ died,and god was weakened,the Devil took hes own chance by creating a prophet,for his own "church"
but something y went terribly wrong with at the end the prophet (a deamon) fell in love on an female angel (in fact,anti-deamon)
and they got kiddies,God and the Devil where so ****** off they sended entire armes of deamons and angels after to hunt down
the outcast deamon and his offspring. only the youngest child survived,Archax. When he learned the truth of his family's murderers,
he started carving a bloody path trough god and devils highest servant (ie:lucifer,gabriel...) He has just found out one of his targets
is hiding in the badlands... Let the killing begin!

appearance:despite having cut of his bat-like wings (that regrow every day) for looking much strange amongst other people
he has some rare traits: height: 1.90M weight:nada,it makes him move silent all the time,flaming red eyes
clothes: having fought from the roman era to now,he wears an reinforced and ancient armor,hidden under rags and a long jacket
weapons: My Blasphemious Wrath: an customised handgun,able to fire 14mm "ripper" bullets,with an explosive tip,cased in silver
Throatripper: an under-arm mounted silver blade
affection:neutral in fact(he doesn't involves in human bussineses),he resides in the satanic part (where he is less likely to be discovered)

phew... this is what you get when combining,assasins creed,legion and western
(note:his pic is not completed yet,i still need to color the rest)

offtopic:scrazza,do you know if the GW is open this sunday (like most are for christmas shopping) ?

haha! Nice to have you along (again).

I'm back in!
Heres Ghost again if anybodies forgotten.

Name: Ghost
Age: 18
Equipment: Twin .357 Magnum Revolvers, mask, twin gold knives, satans symbol pendant, mask that he wears all the time that was handcrafted by himself to hide his identity.
Mount: Black Horse, satans symbol branded on body, called "Curse".
Faith: Satanic
History: He has no idea, a herd of cattle trampled his body and he forgot all his past life, he found salvation in worshipping Satan and so he does Satans working, killing innocents, making others life a misery, he gave himself the name Ghost as he is almost never seen and when he has a target, that person will not live for long...
Appearence: Long dusty Jacket always up, wears mask all the time, and has a black stetsun, blonde hair.

I imagine the mask looking like this

Intro RP

A cold fell over the badlands. It was not the kind of cold a winter night or rain storm brought, but the freezing cold of fear.
People went inside,barred their windowns and doors, and prayed (to god or satan).
Only one person was making his trough the abbandoned streets,a ragged mass of clothes and armour,Red eyes searching down the streets.
Archax walked up unto the bar/brothel . Inside,music was been played on the piano,but when Archax stepped in, it suddenly stopped.
Inside all were looking upon him, some hands going to guns, but most freezed, and could do no other than stare.
"What you' all looking at?"
"Euh...your....eyes....they glow...." a boy answered
Painfull silence.
"And...?"
"And I dont want me any trouble,in my bar tonight,so get out!" the barkeeper yelled.
"I decide for myself where I go and where not,so shut the feth up and bring me a drink!" Archax yelled back,holding his rage in check only
trough sheer willpower.
Then he walked on,took a chair and sat down near the windown
A last "What?" to the few persons still staring,and life went on.
The pianist started playing,and people started talking.
This is going to be a long night.... Archax thought.

Ghost walked allong the dusty, barren wasteland, remembering what he must do, Maurith had told him that he must stop this train and kill the infidels inside. He stopped, and listened, he heard the train, but it was a long way away, he still had time. Staring into the distance, he saw a suitable sniper point, perfect.

As soon as he was there, he set up the point, and took out his Springfield, he had quite a lot of ammo on it, so he would not have to face that trouble. He stood still, and listened again, it was getting closer, he was running out of time, quickly, he got behind cover and made himself comfortable.

Ghost could now see the train, and saw little specks inside it that were his targets. It drew closer, closer, closer, and now he had to do it, otherwise he would run out of time.
He looked through the sights on the Springfield, and saw the driver, if he was lucky then the shot would make the driver.

He started to put pressure on the trigger, and then squeezed it tight.
The driver slumped over and Ghost knew he was dead.

Now the race began.

Thier were not that many passengers on the train, he could get them all if he was fast.

"Time to die."



(That was my starting RP again, just the same as last time)

The train slowed down, and Ghost started pumping more rounds into the people inside, until just about all were dead, only one remained now, his main target, the leader of these infidels.
Ghost started surveying the train, trying to find his target, when suddenly he saw the man, and there he was, trying to jump out of the train, he succeeded, and was then standing up and running away, trying to get out of Ghosts line of sight.

Ghost got him in his sights, and pulled the trigger.

"click"

"S**T!"

Ghost reloaded, and then went to take a shot at the fleeing man, but there was no sign of him.


Ghost knew that Maurith would not take this failure, so HAD to go on seek out his target. He reached inside his satchel and took out the map Maurith had given him. From the direction the man was running, he would end up at a small town called Goldust, as it was right next to a gold mine.

Ghost packed up and started walking, making his way to the town, so he could finish his job...

My charecter, Billy, will be the main antagonist. He will be the cause of many events. and they may not be pretty.

When Ledabot and fallen wolfborn reach thisone, I will put up the event.

Scrazza wrote:My charecter, Billy, will be the main antagonist. He will be the cause of many events. and they may not be pretty.

When Ledabot and fallen wolfborn reach thisone, I will put up the event.

You mean if they reach this one. The road is dangerous. I have seen to that..

//leaves//

I might try to get hold of them.

Thanks Shas. With four guys, we can start proparly with this one.

Sent out PM's to both hopefully they'll read em

When they both check in here, I'll have my event ready.

K lookin forward to it

bla! Im am wasted after working all day.... :{
I wll put up something shortly.

Name: Purifier
Age: appears to be about 30, otherwise, nobody knows.
Equipment: A model 1850 sword inscribed with the words, "where there is evil, I bring justice", a bowie knife, two Remington’s .44, 5 small silver knifes he uses to "purify his enemies", a small bible, crucifix, holy water, water (don’t worry, the different flasks are marked), food, misc, like a tent (hay, he's from out of town)
Mount: a goat. Na got you, he has a grey horse.
Bio: He goes from town to town killing and cleansing, even if he leaves the town empty and ablaze as he leaves. He wears a hat that he got from his father, his parents died after getting killed by a zombie; he killed the zombie with his father’s rifle. This started a life of zealous work to "purify the unclean".

I can’t seem to find a pic that represents him well, use your imagination.


He walk swiftly out of the house, not a sound came from within, their was nothing left to scream.their was a small boy cowering in the coner of the yard.
'That was much easyer than it looked' he said. 'Do you follow the light'?
The boy was not quite shore what to reply to this, but judging how long it took for this strange man to despell with that nightmare that was once his mother, he thought that he should feel thankful. 'I don't like to kill children' said the Purifier. I a stunning movement, he was only an breath away from the boys face, holding one of his Remingtons to his temple. This snaped the boy into action. he noddend so hard that his head could have come off. 'I can see from your face, your clean. You ae to come with me.'
'Were' stamered the boy.
'To holy ground. this is no place for a boy'

Yay just need Fallen Wolfborn

Name: La Muerta Negro
Equipment: Henry 88, smoke bombs, charcoal, Lasso, Abyssal Plain statue, Seal of the Unholy Crusaders, Scythe, Black hood
Mount: Bucephalus, a Black Colt that some say is a shadow...
Faith: Satanic
Biography: Born a Mexican in south Texas, the man now known as La Muerta Negro was a small child when he saw his mother die by the hands of the Cowboys. Those smug bastards, he though, One day, I'll get them. Secretly building a rope out of the spare crop husks, he perfected his lasso skills. At the age of 6, he found one of the men who killed his mom. He was found dead, hanging from the rafters. 2 years later, another Ranch hand was dead, stabbed with his own reaping tool. It was not until La Muerta Negro was 15 when he was caught, trying to kill the final cowboy. When he was placed in jail, the Civil war was in full swing. The Union Scouts freed him, as they knew he was a valuable asset to the righteous crusades against the sinners. How wrong they were. He now rides the deserts, enjoying the kill of all the men he deems unfit. With his scythe, blacked out body, and smoke bombs, the locals gave him a name, The black death, La Muerta Negro.

Arriving in the new town, Muerta has new faces to meet. And stain red.





He rode into town, and the people just walked like nothing was happening. Because nothing was happening. Yet.

"Welcome stranger!" Shouted the bartender as he entered the saloon. "What can I get for you?"

He pointed to the flask of red liquid hanging from the rafters.

"Well, settle down now partner. That's the blood of the holiest man in our town, bless his soul. He was in the crusades, you know? Man I remember when he used to"

The sound of the fwoosh of smoke made the bar go silent. Everyone was staring at the now jet black man, holding in one hand a small, sealed envelope, and in the other, a fairly large scythe.

"Where is it. I must have the artifact."

"S**T! Boys, grab the guns! We have a goo-"

The head rolled across the floor like a demented bowing ball, blood flowing it's path.

"Now, I will get what I came for, or this town will burn."

Wahoo another peep!

good.

event will follow in a few days. I got something on my mind that needs some thought. But you guys just start roleplaying.

K I will hopefully continue later today or tomorrow.

Name: Michael Macleod
Age: 39
Equipment: Smith & Wesson Army No 2 revolver, Spencer 1865 Carbine, Colt Revolving Rifle Model 1855,
blessed silver bullets (12 magazines), flask of holy water, $250, silver celtic cross
Mount: Grey mare called Succubus
Faith: Christian (Caribbean)
Biography: Born in Scotland in 1845. Kidnapped by press gang at age 10. Shipped to Jamaica by the Royal Navy, escaped and fled to
Haiti, where he discovered a love of Carribean religion and found worship of the old African spirits worked quite well with his Presbyterian upbringing.
Left Haiti for the US in 1860 after being run out of Port-au-Prince by a particularly nasty Voodoo priest because of a certain 'incident'
concerning the priest's niece and a large keg of rum. Joined the Unionists in Lousiana and fought at Gettysburg where he survived the undead
outbreak after the battle. Headed west with a wagon train in 1867 after working in the graveyards and mausoleums of Baton Rouge and
New Orleans as a guard and also a freelance demon hunter in Montgomery, Alabama.

"Violence against the innocent isn't worth it. Destruction of the guilty isn't my job. But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy it."
Defends the innocent and bystanders (not the same thing) to the point of fanaticism but is level headed and quite charming.
Puts a lot of stock in religious totems as he has seen the power faith has on the believer.


http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=§ion=&q=cowboy#/dyuinl

Ghost walked through the dusty town, trying not to attract any attention, but looking out for the man he was hunting, and anything else of interest. He walked into the Inn, and looked around for his contact. Then he saw him, a man completely in black, and who's face was burnt from past battles, and Ghost walked over to talk to him.

"Carl, its me." said Ghost.

Then the man looked up and saw him.

"Ghost! What a pleasant surprise my friend, what brings you to the small mining town of Rockhaven?" Carl replied.

"I am looking for a man, my top target that was on the train this morning, he managed to evade my bullets, not literally of course," and Ghost showed a picture of the man.

"Well, my my my my my, I saw that one min come in to town today, he had quite a limp, and he was heading to the sheriffs house, I think he was going there for protection, from you, my dear friend."

"Then do you know what I shall do?" asked Ghost. "I will barge right in there, kill my target, and slaughter anybody else who bears witness. Nobody gets away from me, Carl, nobody."

"Then farewell to you my friend, and good luck."

"Farewell Carl."

With that Ghost stood up and left the inn. He saw the Sheriffs place and walked over to it. He checked nobody was looking before knocking the door.

"Knock, knock."

Bullets flew around,and another of the lawbringers was hit in the head. Why did he had to shout the lawlickers?" Archax thought.
He leaped for the bar ,turning around midflight and fired towards another one. The explosive-tipped bullets made a mess of the
man's chest,and Archax really didn't envy the person who could go cleaning tommorow.
When he landed on the ground,he rolled and leapt again,this time aiming for the window.
He crashed trough,glass flying in all directions. "next time I shoot it first" He thought.
He dashed around the street and hided in a back-alley . Then he started caring for his wounds.

We need the Scrazzmeister! Now!!! Scrazza come back!

We need you to have the honour of starting the 2nd page

The gunfire was enough to startle everyone. The figure had somehow pulled a rifle from the unholy cloak and began to fire into the crowd. The first to go down was a woman, watching her husband gamble. The priests began to scramble for their holy tomes and artifacts, but were savagely cut down by the mysterious figure.

"Hold it right there!" The air in the bar began to become saturated with the stench of death and fear. Fools, the cloaked man thought, before he spun around, sythe in hand. It did not connect. The damned church had arrived.

"By the power of god, I pronounce the a herself and a traitor! Thy will die for your sins!" The holy man shot the Muerta Negro in the Chest several times with the colt. The shadowy figure staggered back, and smiled with his now bloodstained teeth. He drew a small statue from his pocket and chanted a verse from some unknown book in a dead language, some claim to be invented by Satan himself. The man became a shadow, and flew off into the nearest dark area he could find.

The stables were damp, cold and dreary. A perfect place to begin a new life, and a new cult. The cult of the Abyssal Plateau, he would call it. "Come here, boy. Would you like to become more powerful than you could imagine?" La Muerta said in a voice that a saint would have bowed to. "Sure, sir. What is your name?" "You can call me... Red. Red Smith." He smiled, with the bloodstained teeth. "Follow me, boy, for today begins the first day of your life..."

The old man plucked a cigar from between his teeth at the front of the wagon. Breathing out a cloud of acrid and hacking into his sleeve,
he craned his neck around to see the younger man sitting in the back with his rattan hat pulled down over his eyes. They had picked him
up outside the smouldering ruins of some god-forsaken frontier town, the smoke billowing around him. He had been very quiet the whole
time, not saying anything about what had happened. The only way that they knew it wasn't the stranger in question that had killed off
the whole town was the ankle deep pile of undead corpses behind him.

The man had retreated into his duster, most likely to keep off the chilling night wind. "Hey partner, wanna come up and watch the moon
over the Mojave? They say it calms the soul."

Two deep brown eyes stared out at him from underneath the brim of the rattan hat. "Fine."

Michael climbed up and looked out at the light glinting on the desolate wasteland. "I've been riding the wagon trains for thrteen years and
I've never seen the likes of this year's outbreaks. New York, Pittsburgh, Montgomery and even the Capital all been hit. Have you ever seen
those towns?"

Michael was silent. "Yes. I remember Montgomery. Even Satan himself couldn't take me back there."