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Title: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on November 22, 2016, 06:53:01 PM
Cities In Dust MR


This is Universe B, where anything can happen. Or is it?

It is the Wild West in the ever-weird lands of the interwebs, and Coryn Sken is on a journey to look for a lost love. But there are forces against him, and in the face of new events that come up, it's up to him and an unlikely band of people to somehow save the quiant city of Old Bramble, and perhaps the entire New Frontier.


Chapter One:,17137.msg273315.html#msg273315

Chapter Two:,17137.msg273378.html#msg273378

Chapter Three:,17137.msg277577.html#msg277577

Chapter Four:,17137.msg277706.html#msg277706
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on November 22, 2016, 06:53:08 PM

In the wild west, the cities are made up out of dust. In vistas plundered by sand age and rocks older than your great great grandfathers' grandfathers' grandfather. In crevices and nooks and crannys that gather more dust than the pants of a titan in a sandstorm.

The coyotes, scorpions, snakes and vultures call this place their home. It's an unforgiving place already, and that's without the humans to consider.

This is not earth as we know it, you know, but some events are so significant they occur all across the wheels of existence: The Gold Rush. As you know it, it was around 1848 till 1855. Hundreds of thousands of people came flocking into the place from all over. And I mean from all over. From overseas and within the region. Google it and believe.

They of course all agreed to work together to make a fortune together because humans live in communities... Not.

Where there is gold, there is blood.

Whether the gold is yellow or black, lead will fly and people die.

It's just the way it is.

But that's too simple an explanation sometimes.

Sometimes it goes beyond the riches and gains, beyond the skill of a gunslinger and the well said one-liner.

Sometimes, it's all about love.

It's always about love you tell me? Optimistic fool.

What, you agree with me to an extent? Then why were you questioning me in the first place?

It doesn't matter. Let me just get along with the story.

You'll owe me quite a bit for this one, because no one talks about it anymore.

You may very well be the last one to ever hear it.

So here's how it goes

Chapter One: Coryn Sken Rides on His Horse Down a Dune and Suddenly He Realizes He Is Finally Where He Needs to Be.
He controls the horse perfectly, gets down the slope without any issues. It's not so great at scaling hills like a camel is, so the rider really has to know what their doing. Coryn clearly does.

He stops at a flat and looks out in the distance. After three mad weeks of riding and Uberman power naps even on the saddle, the town is in sight. Uberman power naps are where you sleep in intervals during a day rather than waiting for night to fall. It's what the likes of Tesla, Da Vinci, Dali, Fuller, Bonaparte, Edison and Churchill used. Or odd sleep cycles, at the very least. You want to be a badass protagonist to your own Western Sci-Fi Fantasy story? Have idiosyncracies like a polyphasic sleep cycle.

Or be really good with a gun. I mean really good.

I mean 6 shots in half a second good.

You don't believe me do you? Tell him about this story later down the line down a dark alley and see for yourself.

Anyways, Coryn was headed to Old Bramble. This was a town that was dying out for sure: Everyone in there was completely old. The Sheriff Greenhorn May had been such a legend in his time during the wilder years that he made sure the town stayed safe. He was an immigrant from somewhere way too far, and had a story way too interesting, but unfortunately he's but a placeholder here. Trust me though, Sheriff May was a legend.

Anyhow, the peaceful town of Old Bramble met a tragic end at the hands of young fools looking for gold. They settled like locusts, and feast upon the charming city did they do. Everything has its ups and dowsn, but this particular wave of the gold rush did not bring anything more than heartbreak violence and the other baser natures of man. When the sheriff finally died, leaving his poor loyal but kind wife Polly May as the town elder, the situation only got worse.

We'll talk about that business in full later, but understand that Old Bramble was prosperous. It had water, and it had gold. And to quote myself, where there is gold, there is blood.

Though it was no fault of Old Bramble's hardy but nice residents, a huge flow of people from the other towns were coming in to trade, to talk, to mingle and to stay. Shady deals were closed and trade routes were made. Old Bramble became a rotten heart that pumped corrupt poison in the rest of the Westlands.
And blessed, because Old Bramble not only sat over a vein of water. It also sat over a pool of oil, and of course, was near a mountain full of gold ore.

It's a wonder that the very desert itself didn't try to get its hands in this jackpot.


"They're doing pretty well for themselves." Coryn says.

The town looks good from the outside, and that's rare. It's all made of wood, but the wood looks grandiose, artistic. It's always interesting how worked wood can look artificial and beautiful at the same time. The same as worked stone. The artist did not just bleed ink on soft paper, they throttled nature by the throat, took a chunk out of it, and made something beautiful. Even with all the dust that had blown through here, Coryn could appreciate how the buildings look. 

In any case, they are pretty big. Even more surprising, there's a large amount of people walking between the buildings, talking, chatting, arguing. There's so many people that some of them are talking outside of town - they don't even need the shade of nearby buildings to be able to talk. It's truly an odd sight to see in a desert.

Coryn sets off towards the town at a trot. He whispers to himself, "What in the world are you doing out here, Doodler?"

- Flashback -



He falls in love with a pianoist girl who also has an old grandmother who's dying but epicly skilled.

They talk in poetic silences. They truly fill kinship through silence.

They talk about how puberty and life will creep up to them eventually, and how it wouldn't be so bad if they
were both there when it happened.

***NAME REDACTED. IM SERIOUS STOP. DC.***  is dissapointed and feels like he'd be giving up and becoming a common folk by just falling in love with a girl and settling down. It's stupid, isn't it? You can't be serious about that sort of thing. He loved guns, and if there was anything he was good at, it was shooting the bottles his pa left all over outside of the shed, and sometimes he scared himself, because his hands moved like they were not made of bone and tendon, but air, and the air pulled the trigger and cocked the rounds and the bottles vanished in grand crashing sound.

And said pianoist girl is not really impressed by this at all. Because she can do it better, and she finds it boring. 

Coryn walks into town, and he expects some sort of nastiness from the people not used to strangers, but he can see from the faces all around that almost everyone is a stranger here. And while a lot of them look nasty and seem to be judging him based on wether they can rob him blind or not, there are others appraising him on his value to them personally, and some even awed by his super cliche but accurate wild west cowboy outfit.

He stops outside of the Sheriffs' office and alights from his horse, wondering if someone will greet him.  Wondering if he should go ask in the local pub. After all, there's no one who knows everything better than a good bartender. Especially in a lively town like this.

A water boy walked up to him with his hands clasped,
"Sir, do you need water and sugar for your horse? Very cheap by us." He was clearly trying to talk in an accent but failing miserably. The experience was so discomforting that Coryn decided to go along with it.

"Er... Yes."

He flips a silver coin to him and tips his hat, "Take care of him, he's borrowed."

His horse McCob blew a raspberry at him as the water boy took him away,

"That's what they all say sir! That's what they all say!"

They don't though. Coryn says, and he turns around with his hands on his hips, hoping to get a good look of the place before going to ask around.

Instead he sees a red haired gal glaring at him. And boy does she looked pissed. She has a sheriffs badge on her shoulder and smiles at him, even though her brows are furrowed.

"What part of 'Don't look for me' didn't you understand?"

Coryn can't seem to talk, his voice cuts in his throat, but even if he was going to say something, it's too late because the pissed off red haired gal punches him in the face and he goes down like a sack of rice. A nearby woman gasps out in surprise and some old man exclaims in indigination.

AnimeDoodler spits in the side of the dirt and walks off. Her boots chuf chuffing in the dirt.

Coryn eventually sits up and feels his sore face. It throbs but nothing is broken.

"Well, to happy reunions then."  He says, before gathering his hat, standing up and walking after her.
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: Coryn on November 22, 2016, 11:25:19 PM
1. Thou shalt not ship the mods



This is really nice Lego. Did you give a lot of thought to the repetition in the story telling? It gives that right sort of Western quality, of things that are sorta just moving on by slowly.

Actually, have you watched a lot of westerns? To be entirely honest I'm not sure how far they travel outside the US. It's hard to imagine other people being so interested in something that basically happened in one's own backyard. Especially when you add another hundred years and suddenly it's just "a fly over state"

Any rate, keep up the good work. Just don't do anything too salacious. Doodle and I are both real people after all. You don't see me going around shipping you with people.

Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on November 23, 2016, 09:57:29 AM
Muhuhahahahaha. Muhuhahahahaha

Cheers man, it just sort of came to me, also I had rum to help me along for that one. I unfortunately haven't read or watched many Westerns, and those innacuracies will bite me more than ever as I go along, but I've always been playing with a western MR story ever since I heard the first song, and the second one is what sealed the deal.

From Wikipedia sama there were even some Chinese gold panners out there after hearing about gold and stuff. But I need to actually look into this stuff.

Oh gawd naw. And hey! I haven't explicitly said anything in any way or form! Conclusions that are jumped to are your own fault.

(seriously oh gawd no it won't happen.)

I'm actually starting on a bunch of MR stories I was going to sit on forever, so the forum will be flooded a bit with too many projects, but I'll update them sparingly depending on how inspired I feel. I have the 2nd chapter for this written up already, so I'll let it simmer before I post. 
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: Coryn on November 24, 2016, 09:10:06 AM
Okay, I've got to ask then, what westerns have you seen?
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on November 24, 2016, 10:54:41 AM
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. I didn't catch the title of the other one because it was dubbed in German. Django Unchained recently I guess, and countless of the usual 'It's playing on TV so let me see a few seconds'. But until I finished reading The Dark Tower by Stephen King I never really got into it.

I have Netflix, so if you have any recommendations I might as well start a marathon of sorts.
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on November 24, 2016, 11:06:53 AM
Chapter Two

Coryn finally catches up to Doodler at the porch of the Sheriff's shack and local jail, and she rounds up on him, eyes a-blazing,  red hair a-flaming,

"Did you bring the others too?"

Coryn grinned,

"You know I'm a one man army, Doodler. I do not require any back up. And you can verify that."
Doodler scoffed and opened the door,

"I should clock you again, but too bad for me you're actually good at what you do. We need to do some shooting soon."

"I'm all yours." Coryn said as he followed her into the sheriff’s shack.

There was nothing in the ways of furniture or design here. Open windows, four chairs and a small table. The space was cramped.

There was a corridor that led to the only two jails that the sherrif’s shed had. There were no prisoners there. In The Westlands, things were simpler when it came to crime and punishment. Which was to say either a man righted a wrong by palaver and trade, or they simply held a hemp party and that would be the end of that.

Polly May sits in one of the chairs. She looks browned by ages of sand and sun, and her dark eyes gleam with the vitality that only the wisest and toughest possess. She has a cowboy hat, but otherwise wears a white cotton shirt and some jeans. She's smoking a pipe when Coryn walks in.

Coryn tips his hat to her, "Ma'am. The name is Coryn. "

"Coryn." Polly May repeats slowly as she exhales. She looks meaningfully at Doodler, who just looks at her back, almost defiantly. Polly looks back at Coryn,

"You believe in ghosts, Coryn?"

"I would not be surprised if they existed, but so far nothing has shown me any different."

"Well then, you're flat then aren't you?" Polly May says.

Doodler snorts, "You have no idea."

Coryn grins, "I never caught your name?"

"Polly May." The old woman says before standing up and taking his hand and shaking it. She glances at it once before settling back down into her seat, "You're good with a gun I see."


"I've heard the stories. And those guns look old as the gods. Now tell me how much you're worth, because I require the services of one such as you.”

Coryn scratches his chin, "I need some more context to all of this, because other than your name and her being the sheriff, I know nothing and my name ain’t Snow."

Doodler takes a seat on one of the seats and crosses her legs,
"Someone's managed to get their hands on an army. A deserting force that should be fighting the good fight on the battle field but they got wind of this town and want to take it.” She looks genuinely annoyed by this,

“We've had this sort of thing happen before. Old Bramble isn't exactly peaceful by default, but we managed - With Polly's help - to have an agreement between everyone to not rock the boat. Dig, drill, collect and trade, but the city doesn't belong to anyone - and no barbarism. We're actually having a festival tomorrow. A legitimate thank-the-gods for the harvest bonfire out in the open, and that wasn't possible some time back."

Polly May continues, "Took all I had out of me for sure, but Greene would've been proud."  She looks off in the distant.

Coryn tilts his head, "We've still been pretty busy before I came here Doodler. Haven't heard even a peep about that sort of thing. Deserters I mean. You know how good Musick is at sniffing out trouble."

"She's still in the Posse?" Doodler shook her head, "Poor girl."

"Hey." Coryn said.

"Anyways."  Doodler continued, "We just heard it right now. Or rather we were threatened." Doodler takes a paper from her pocket and shows it to Coryn.  It shows four printed horses and a skull blooming over their heads. Written in block text under this charming picture is:

We will take what's yours and own what we take.
Your hats, your shoes,
Your gold, your oil, your lives

"Sounds to me like I came at the right time." Coryn says, "I can get the others here if you want."

"Please do." Doodler says without a trace of irony there.

There is a pause between the three of them.

Coryn glances between Doodler and Polly May, "You know, you're seriously good with a gun. And there's a bunch of people out there."


"Come on. We've been outnumbered worse than this before. Why would I be needed? Or the rest of the Posse."

Doodler stands up, "No point in telling someone who doesn't believe in ghosts, is there?" She walks past Coryn and out the door.

Coryn looks after her a while,

"Uh huh." He looks at Polly May and tips his hat, "Ma'am."

He's about to walk out when Polly May stops him.


Coryn raises an eyebrow at the term but stops anyway, "Ma'am?"

"People don't stay pissed at people they don't care about, just so you know. But don't just do a dance around the fire. Jump in."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Honest." Coryn says before walking out of the room.

He sees four people on horses out there, and Doodler is frozen in her tracks.

It’s the Raider Posse.
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: Coryn on November 24, 2016, 11:32:47 AM
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. I didn't catch the title of the other one because it was dubbed in German. Django Unchained recently I guess, and countless of the usual 'It's playing on TV so let me see a few seconds'. But until I finished reading The Dark Tower by Stephen King I never really got into it.

I have Netflix, so if you have any recommendations I might as well start a marathon of sorts.

I will put together a list. I'm not sure what German Netflix provides, but as always, the internet provides.

(I'll get to the second chapter tonight. Festivities are ramping up on my end. Need to help cook)
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on March 01, 2017, 07:55:34 PM

"Hey guys!" Coryn waves. "We were just talking about you!"

 "Hai, Doodler!" One of the girls pulls down her black mask, because she's in a full ninja outfit. Her horse is white like snow.  "Long time no see!"

"Musick..." Coryn grumbled.


Musick grinned, "That's me alright!"

One afro cowboy in a black trenchcoat grinned, "Dude, why did you leave us behind like that? You totally missed an epic shootout."   

"Lego, this was my business."  Coryn mumbled...


Lego smiled, "I'll be the first when I defeat Django"

"You have a sense of humour already? Wowee I'm impressed."

"I smell rum." Said Sir Sherbert Lemon as he clambered down from his horse and made a beeline for the nearest pub.


"I live my name" Sherbert said, dissapearing for the rest of the chapter (the bastard).

Coryn was seriously not happy though.

"I told you guys to stay behind."

They all still rode their horses around him and shared their sentences. Musick and Lego in tandem.

"So you..."

"...Expected us..."

"... To seriously..."

"..Let THE Coryn Sken..."

"...Ride off to 'Do some personal business'..."

"...Without following him..." Lego stopped his horse and grinned, "Coryn, I used to think you a drybone all to pieces humourless son of a gun, but you've got some strange ideas in your head for sure."

Coryn looked him straight in the eye, then at Musick,

"This time I'm serious. This is personal. Like toilet personal."

Musick stared at Coryn back, "We are blood, are we not?" She said. "Allers blood, till the day we die..." She glanced at Lego, "Br-brooow?"

Lego patted his chest and pointed at Musick, "Close enough, but yes..." He looked at Coryn, "Bros. And sisses. The others are coming too, so don't you think you get to take a dump without us being there to wipe it." He grinned,

"Since your creepy self can't help but do the same for us, it's just the way it is, so give us the down low and tell us what you're doing here in Nowheresville"

Coryn looked between the both of them.

Coryn bowed his head and sighed,


Doodler crossed her hands,

"So you're just going to ignore me, then?"

Lego and Musick dismounted from their horses, walked over to Doodler, and slide tackled her into the dirt.

"-- OOFF !?!?!?!?"



They almost smothered her with their undignified hugs.

I'll skip the part where Doodler kicked Lego in the nuts and dislocated Musick's arm.

They all faced eachother instead on that street. Lego, Musick, Sherbert (Back from the pub) Coryn and Doodler.

"Looks like the gang is back." Coryn said.

Indeed, it was true, to an extent.

The Raiders were back in action, ready to rumble.

Sherbert took a sip of the moonshine he had managed to locate from the bar,

"So... Let's get to business..."

He pulled out his revolved and shot to his left side all of the sudden.




The gun roared, the bullet ricricocheted off two surfaces and pierced his glass, boiling the remaining moonshine inside,

"Who we gotta shoot?" He drank the last dregs of the bleeding cup.

Coryn sighed and looked at Doodler,

"Well... It depends on how much she wants to tell." He said.

Doodler looked at them all, and realized she was way beyond controlling this situation, and besides, she really did need their help.

"Fine. Fine..." She sighed.

"Let's talk about ghosts." ( She said.
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on March 03, 2017, 03:10:14 PM

"G-ghosts?" Sherbert asks. "Tell me she's joking."

"I'm not joking." Doodler says.

"She's joking." Coryn says.

Musick grins, "Aw. I love it when you two joke like that."

"I will shoot someone, I swear I will." Coryn says.

Doodler gestures with her hat, "Come on, we need to get loaded before The Dustbowl Dancers get into town, and get the whole place killed to hell."

"What's that got to do with ghosts?" Sherbert asked. "And did you just say loaded? My kind of gal."

"Careful, she's taken." Lego whispered.

"Guys... Stop."

"I meant loading up on weapons. Anyhow, there's a reason this town is so rich." Doodler said as she walked to the back of the Sherrifs' office, opening a sort of wooden bin with a padlock. Inside was an iron safe that she cracked open,

"We've got lots of weapons from all over, so take your pick."

"You were talking about ghosts?" Sherbert asked as he admired the weaponry that Doodler handed out to the Posse.

"This place was an ancient land for The Selfless, a clan of desert nomads that stayed here and sent off several of their members to save people who came through here no matter what. It is said that through this selflessness, the land they lived on was blessed with water, oil, gold, all sorts of other precious minerals, but The Selfless refused to fall to greed, and refused to obsess over the riches that they had. They let anyone come through and take what they want, so long as they were left alone."

Doodler said, checking a single shot bolt action rifle. She slung that on her back and handed out ammunition to everybody. Musick even got a sword.

"And soon enough, someone came through and just killed them all. They weren't even bothering anybody, they just killed them all. You know the rest from then. Old Bramble is now a crossroads for murder and greed, but nobody has done anything to piss off the restless souls here... Not yet."

"The ghosts of The Selfless?"

Doodler nodded, "Yes. It's the water, you see. They find it a precious resource that should be shared equally and freely, and whether greedy men or good men survive because of it in this town, then people are still being saved. But The Dustbowl Dancers don't have that name for no reason... Wherever they go, they pillage, they sell off what isn't bolted down, and ruin what they can't sell. That'll piss them off, and bring their anger down on our heads."

"That sounds like an awfully convoluted behaviour for ghosts... How do you know all of this?"

"Polly May and her husband knew about all of this. She told me, so I believe her." Doodler said with a resolute glare in her eyes, "And I don't care what you think, but don't you dare think Polly is a liar. She helped me when I needed it the most."

Nobody cracked jokes then.

But someone did break the silence.

There was an explosion in the distance. A huge one. One hotel was standing there one moment, the next it erupted in a ball of flame, wood and debris flying off into every direction. There were screams, and The Posse all collectively turned, flinching against the heat and wind of the inferno.

"Hey hoh hoh! Who is ready... To rumble!"

"Let's go." Doodler said.

The Posse ran towards the explosion, weaving through the buildings till they were out in the open. While others ran away, a bunch of gawkers had come together to see what the hell had attacked them. After all, in Old Bramble there were very few hopeless people. Almost everyone was armed in one way or the other.

A towering bareshirted giant of a man wearing boxing gloves stood in front of people in full army uniform. The soldiers' uniforms were dusty from long days in the desert and sun, but all clear signs of ex deserters from the civil war. They had rifles with bayonets, revolvers and repeating rifles. 

Many of them had canons with them.

"Well this should be a fair fight." Said Lego.

The boxer roared,

"My name is Commander Jenkins of The Dustbowl Dancers! I am here to murder you all! Prepare your jaws, prepare your throats, for we will punch and crush them all!"


Some drummer soldiers came closer, drumming a marching tune

We will take what's yours and own what we take!
Your hats, your shoes,
Your gold, your oil, your sorry lives too

With that, they roared, and then there was silence.

Commander Jenkins grinned,

"Get em boys."

Musick; Doodler, Coryn, Sherbert and Lego cocked their various weapons and prepared to recieve the onslaught that was pretty much an army.

"Just another day in the business, boys."

"It's what we do."
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on June 11, 2018, 07:00:39 PM

Now there is an interesting discourse to be had about gunslinging with old colt 44s and Winchester rifles: They should've been highly innacurate, but their wielders were legend beyong legend so that was no issue.

The smoke was though, because as the battle lines approached eachother (each weaving and ducking and reacting to the combat at hand) the whole shebang was covered in smoke. All that remained was the roar of gunfire, the cry of dying men, and the whinnies of horses.

If not for Doodlers' markmanship, and Musick's unique skill with the blade the battle would've been lost, for they were decisive in breaking up the battle situation of gun vs. gun. In Doodler's hands a rifle was not only a rifle, but a holy hand that plucked you out from the living realm. Its aim was unerring, inexorable, and you died almost with approval at your quick and violent demise that left your trigger fingers feeling suddenly orphaned as your brain turned to mush.

Musick on the other hand was quick, and as her personal skills were already deadly enough to make her barely visible against a backdrop of white paper in a blazing sun, the smoke of the gunbattle made her a sharp phantom of death. One of the Dust Bowl Dancers saw a comrade die stabbed in his chest, and still couldn't see that Musick was responsible until he too was stabbed. For what it was worth she didn't seem to enjoy the whole business: She had a mask of stone, all business like. So while he did die instantly and without putting up much resistance, he knew he died at the hands of a true warrior.

Lego was fanning his revolver, enjoying the action way too much and laughing. Sherbert was dual wielding. He got more hits than Lego.

Coryn on the other hand had no time for such nonsense. In matters of life and death gun battles, the secret was Aim and Shoot, Aim and Shoot, Aim and Shoot. Adrenaline roared through his body, throwing his infinitesimal adjustements  off wack, but he didn't think about that. Bullets whinged past him, but he didn't think about them too. They were just a part of the scene, wind in the breeze, and he had a job to do.
Slowly but surely The Dust Bowl Dancers realized the impossible fact that they were losing this battle, but then it was too late. The last few 20 of them attempted to flee, and between the The Posse and the few town citizens who decided they would really like to join in on the fun, they were either wounded or captured. All that remained was the Boxer.

He hadn't recieved a single bullet. Seeming to have dodged every single shot, even if he had stood in front of everyone.

He seemed utterly unperturbed by the fact.

"You think you've won. I know you do." The Boxer chuckled as he took a stance. "Which will make beating you all down all the more fun." He said.

Lego stepped forward and shot him in the head.

He dropped like a stone.

"Yeah - no." He said, blowing smoke off the top of his pistol.

The Boxer stop stood up again, almost like he was moving in exact reverse to his apparent demise, but in truth he was balancing and moving himself - impossibly - on the tips of his toes and the movement of his heel. He smiled at Lego and spat the bullet out of his mouth.

"Mmmm. I do love the taste of lead at high noon." He said.

Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: MahluaandMilk on June 11, 2018, 07:05:14 PM
Oh boy. I don't think you meant "The boxer stop up again", but rather that he stood up. Other than that, good to see you up and working. Looks like this was fun to write. I appreciate the spacing, and how it adds a visual pause between actions. GG mate.
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on June 11, 2018, 07:12:57 PM
Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah I don't even know how that happened. Well actually I do but yeah. Ninja edit.

It was fun to write. I need to be done yesterday with this and the other MR Canon story though. Been too lazy with writing these days.
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: Coryn on June 11, 2018, 10:17:36 PM
It's just turning into resurrection city in these parts isn't it?

*Does a real cool spin-cock with a Henry repeater.* Y'know they say the reason Wyatt Earp survived the OK Corral is because he didn't move. Every one else around him got shot because they were jumping and dashing around to avoid the bullets. Movement draws the eye, so in the moment when everything moves, the motionless survive.
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: legomaestro on June 11, 2018, 10:25:56 PM
You are no scientist: You are a wizard, Coryn!  I literally googled gunslinging for ages. I have 10 tabs open right now on Billy the Kid, Pat Garrett, Wyatt Earp, Jonathan R Davis and e.t.c. I wish I wrote this story after researching the wild west properly man. It's dissapointing how much was exagerated, but still awesomely badass how much was real. I need to read more history dude.

But how. Just how! Out of all the characters I said 'yeah so and so is Lego and Sherbert, but Wyatt Earp is definitely  Coryn through and through.' haha

Also yeah, gotta get these stories done. (Don't you dare think I have stopped updating the VN. I'm just extremely lazy, but this year I shalt blaze a trail of resurrection. Nothing as crazy as Frono's but yeah I'm going to try to get stuff done)
Title: Re: Cities In Dust MR
Post by: Coryn on June 12, 2018, 07:38:56 AM
Haha! You can't keep us Kansas boys down. Earp may have grown famous for Tombstone, but he was forged in Wichita and Dodge City.