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Post by jackradison on Apr 22, 2009 21:23:25 GMT -5
The Equine gives a light sigh. “ Glad to see you too, John. “ Sitting across from Jack Radison was a mirror image in different clothes, which had been a testament to the different paths he had walked. “ Cut the crap Jack. “ John grumbles, fiery yellow eyes burning brightly, “ You killed four of my friends out there. Miles, David, Steve, Hannah... Seems like you been getting' colder over the years. “ Jack grins in reply, making John's muscles clench in a holstered bit of fury. “ In my defense, they shot first. Or was that you? All I know is, I got six shots outta that ambush into my body. You got one. If I was a real ass I'da shot the moment I saw you today. “ John huffed at that, as if impervious of the idea of his brother getting the drop on him. “ Instead, I led ya here for a drink. See? I can be nice when I'm not bein' given a lead piece o' bread. “ John wore sturdy, almost cliché cowboy attire; a brown hat, blue shirt covered lightly by a red bandanna and a leather vest, torn chaps covering dusty trousers, and boots. The holster at his side was empty, which meant the Peacemaker lying lackadaisically on the table was his. Another Peacemaker lay crisscrossed across, creating a deadly metallic X on the Saloon furniture. It seems Jack had laid down his gun when John did. “ Kindnesses don't really amount to much in this case. It's like givin' a hangman a sandwich before you dangle. Nice, sure, but your still hangin'. “ John counters, leaning forward to lay his right, upper arm flat across the table. “ And Jack, your still hangin' tonight. Or are ya' gonna finish the job from when we were young'uns? “ Jack frowns, eyes dancing a fury not often seen at his sibling. “ I'm done, John. Done tryin' to tell you the truth when ya' spit it right back in my damned face. I got too many friends here to die over a vengeful fool. I'm warnin' ya, as a brother, pull something here and I'll not be lenient on endin' your life. “ John smiles, for the first time in a long time. “ Glad to hear it. Guess we know where this evenin' will end, huh? “ Standing up, John doesn't touch the guns on the table, and neither does Jack when he stands. John was a solid foot shorter but had a stout, stocky build that made him a force to reckon with. “ No guns. We'll settle this once n' for all. The hard way. Like men. “ John adds, cracking his knuckles. Jack raised his dukes, left leg in front of his right. John mirrored his style, fists raised to guard their muzzles from any spare jabs. “ Whatever the fuck you say, stranger. “ Jack counters. “ Less talk, more fight. “
*********************** This is where you, the viewer, get's all the power. Just post in the thread the options given and I'll give the results via a new post. Jack's life does hang in the balance here, but don't let that discourage you from taking risks. For brevity sake, I will try and make a new post once every Monday, and Thursday. If no one has chosen by then, I will choose myself.
Choose your Character! This is the furre you'll choose actions for. Choosing John doesn't mean Jack will lose, or choosing Jack means John will lose.
A) Jack Radison B) John Radison ***********************
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Post by Yarla on Apr 23, 2009 5:48:31 GMT -5
b)
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Post by jackradison on Apr 23, 2009 21:27:09 GMT -5
John mentally congratulates himself on his subtle manipulation. He has been called a fair shot before, but Jack had skills drilled by a militia beyond his. If he were to go for his gun, Jack would have too, and that was where the fight would steer against him. In a fistfight however, John felt confident in his ability to steer odds with a rogue broken beer bottle. Jack took a small tiptoe forward with his leading right leg, making John step back reflexively. John knew Jack had a plentiful reach advantage, meaning he couldn't skirt on his edges for too long without being battered. Sound ceased to function around John's ears save his tense heartbeat, and muscles clenching with adrenaline soaking his system. “ What? I thought this was a fight, not an occasion to piss your pants and run. “ Jack goads, a malicious smile forming on his ruggedly charming features. John growled, his right leg sweeping forward, and hips pivoting for a blistering right jab toward Jack's jaw. Jack immediately ducked toward John, letting the biting punch graze across his cheek. A slight wince announced the effort John threw into the furious blow, as even a glancing check caused a smart stab of pain to course through Jack's skull. The moment Jack adeptly loops his left arm around John's left bicep, John regrets his initial assault. In one sweeping movement Jack was in kissing distance of his brother, and throwing a momentum powered fist into John's right rib. The area his knuckle brushes against gives lightly, with a satisfying crunch. Grunting angrily under the sudden onset of pain, John threw his rear left knee upward against Jack's chest, which took a fair amount of power out of Jack's sudden right elbow strike across John's muzzle. John felt his vision blur, with a well of hatred pouring upward out of his gut fueling his actions. John curves his right arm in the tight squeeze of Jack's right, and felt his bicep struggle against the vicegrip surrounding. Jack had reached his hand around John's neck, and was attempting to gain enough leverage to force him into some sort of submission hold. He had to tighten his left arm like a cobra, making his brother growl, and suddenly push forward with surprising strength. He uses Jack's strength to make his torso horizontal with the ground, yet kept his legs stable for his rush. John's headbutt slams against Jack's chest, exacerbating the kneestrike he managed to land on him. Jack grunts, being forced to retreat his right leg below his left to keep his brother from steamrolling him to the ground. Jack had wriggled two teeth in John's jaw loose, and injured one or three ribs. It seems Jack was also an able hand-to-hand fighter, but how long could he last?
************* What should John do? A) Grapple further, and try to gain the upper hand. B) Continue to trade blows, and wear the opponent down. C)This is life or death, time to start fighting dirty.
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Post by malicia on Apr 23, 2009 21:33:19 GMT -5
C!!!!!!
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Post by jackradison on Apr 28, 2009 0:43:31 GMT -5
Jack's legs buckled, with his strong squeeze over his Brother's left arm wavering dangerously. John had rallied his free left hand, and punched Jack square between the legs. The receiver of the blow did his best not to crumple, bellowing a higher pitched yell of pain before falling to a single knee. His right eye was wide open, straining with a tear down his congruent cheek. His left was closed, doing it's best to stymie any other sign of weakness. Jack's muscles trembled while he tried to mentally will himself for a violent counter, but the flashing pain in his groin stunned him. John savored his Brother's momentary lapse in movement, taking in a quick revitalizing breath of air. His arm wrapped around his had been weakened greatly, but was perhaps one of the few things keeping Jack rightside up rather than curled into a little ball. John was sure to remedy this, tearing his right arm from the meek hold Jack's left held over. The violent jerk seized Jack's frame forward, as John's right fist was cocked behind his shoulder. With a pivot of John's hips, Jack was leveled onto his back, blood pouring copiously out of each flared nostril. John rubbed his fist lightly, while taking a limp step forward to close the distance between him and his dazed brother. Jack's skull was a lot harder than it seemed, for John expected that to knock the poor fellow out. Now he'd just have to continue his siblings painful beating! “ You've gotten old n' fat, Jack. Usually your grappling ain't that sloppy. “ John chides, with a malicious grin. His brother replied in a weak growl, his head finally moving to stare him down, and arms gently pulsing in activity. John had his brother down for the moment, but it wouldn't last for long. ********* What should John do? A) Pick that bastard up, and throw him across the Saloon. B) Get the gun, finish the job. C) Mess with him mentally. Prolong his pain. D) Other, ( Specify within the thread. )
Extra Options! 1) Switch Character. ( John -> Jack ) 2) Mental soliloquy, see what is going through Jack and John's head respectively. 3) General overview of what's happening, for those who are unclear.
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Post by endymien on Apr 28, 2009 0:56:09 GMT -5
oh! C and 1! Or if I can only pick on I say 1!
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Post by jackradison on Apr 28, 2009 1:02:20 GMT -5
You can choose both. More than one person can vote for the options too, just so everyone knows. <3
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Post by Yarla on Apr 28, 2009 6:28:09 GMT -5
XRYFiyashdoufh
I am a cynical being o.o D:<
A and 2 <3
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Post by jackradison on Apr 30, 2009 21:24:30 GMT -5
[ Tallying the votes, it is a split tie between C1 and A2. Instead of holding a boring vote on who wins, I will try and accommodate any tie the best I can. ] AFF ROLEPLAY START! Jack felt like a giant sore lump had attached itself to the end of his muzzle, but the heavy headache overtaking his senses had died down. So, John wanted to play dirty huh? Jack could play that game too... once he was on the ground. John had wasted no time in picking Jack clear off the ground and above his head. Jack groaned lightly when John began to feign throwing him forward, regretting that inevitable smash into a random object. Right now he would not struggle, to save energy and perhaps clear his head a little more. Besides, he was eleven feet off the ground! If he struggles, John might just piledrive him instead. “ Always the nice one, eh Jack? “ John grunts, making Jack wince at he fakes his next throw too. “ Too bad. That made you weak. Weaker than me, or anyone else you killed that day. “ The next bending and extending of John's hips; the release of Jack Radisons body into open, weightless air. Everything seemed to slow down as a second wind courses through Jack's limbs, and revitalizes his fighting spirit. Jack spun in the air with a light twist of his hips, and he saw what he was landing on. Yarla's table! That wouldn't do. Not at all. Jack closes his eyes, and begins to roll with his left shoulder. With that motion, instead of crashing and breaking clear through a solidly built table, Jack took the brunt of the blow to his shoulder and instead bounces off to the other side. He did tip over a bottle filled with whiskey, which he subtly brought with him while in his rolling freefall to the floor. With a solid thump, Jack lands motionless. My name is Jack Radison, and these could be my last thoughts before I die. I never really thought of that before. Why John n' I are fighting is no longer pertinent, but simply who was gonna come out on top. Yarla, Cage, Melissa, Peprika, Jason, even the deputy Benjamin, flashed in a mental picture. A question nibbles at my psyche: how would I be remembered if John did win? Would all the Brothel gals come to the funeral? They freaking better after all I've done for 'em. Just as you see, I am playin' possum. If this works, I can turn this fight around. If not, well, then this fight is gonna drag on for a little longer. I hold no bad blood for the misguided soul against me right now, but what must be done, simply must. It went from revenge to kill or be killed. Hope of one day a cease fire, to an all out brawl. A Brotherly Brawl. Jack closes his hand around the neck of the bottle, his eyes still closed, and breathing purposefully light. “ Oh come off it Jack! “ John says, with his footsteps toward Jack echoing. “ You know your not unconscious yet... Unless I piked your head on some silverware or somethin'... “ John adds, stepping on top of the table Jack lay beside. “ I see no blood besides the amounts outta yer nose, Pony. Time to get up. “ The moment Jack hears, and even feels Johns foot step down beside his head, he whirls around, brandishing the bottle. In an act of spite, and revenge, the glass connects between John's two legs, causing both of them to immediately wobble dangerously. “ S-Sonofa! “ John roared, in an effeminately high voice. Jack grinned, shifting to get on all fours. His hooves were pointed in John's direction, and with wide-eyed Equine knew what was coming. “ Payback! Is! A! BITCH! “ Jack yelled, kicking both legs back, and fueling the effort by pushing with his hands flat on the floor. John was left unconscious upon the floor, obviously suffering some internal bleeding given the stern kick Jack managed to focus into both sides of his ribs. They had broken off, and jutted into various, obviously important things. Soon, he would bleed out. Soon, he would be dead. Jack stares down in wonder at what he had just done, with a well of disgust forming in his stomach. “ That is... my brother. “ Jack said, tone emotionless. His only real family left lied before him. “ Was... my brother. “ Jack looked at his hands in disbelief, blood still running out of his nostrils. When did it all go so... wrong? Ages ago. Time didn't heal this wound, or it festered. A Corpse of someone he once loved lied before him. The worst part was, and this was the part that made him almost want to vomit. He was happy.
What should Jack do? A) Could just end his Brothers suffering now. Get it all over with. B) Maybe shoot... himself? Who wants to live with all that behind him? C) Say his peace, and let nature take it's course.
[ I apologize for the more than usual mistakes that are probably there. I just didn't feel in a proofreading mood. >.> Not as if I do much of it anyways. ]
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Post by endymien on Apr 30, 2009 23:25:40 GMT -5
A! A!
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Post by Yarla on May 1, 2009 6:32:56 GMT -5
C lol Rarw endddddyyyyy you are wonderfuly gorey lol xD Jack this is cool beans and milk! <3 but STOP DESTROYING THE SALOON lmao xD she's gonna come in there like......what the hell happened? !! J/k lmao j/k
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Post by endymien on May 1, 2009 23:11:21 GMT -5
Sometimes ya just need ta shoot a punk.
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Post by malicia on May 2, 2009 12:41:06 GMT -5
A!!! euthanasia!! mercy killing!!!!
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Post by jackradison on May 3, 2009 18:27:14 GMT -5
Jack regretted the damage done, paltry as it was, to the inside of Yarla's saloon. Now wasn't the time to fret though. Now came the choice Jack hoped he would never have to make. Even if John could hear him somewhere in his unconscious mind, what could Jack say? A lifetime of searching and fighting would not be quelled with empty apologies and half-truths. Jack realized he would never make peace with his brother, yet just may live long enough to be at peace with himself. The crossway lain guns sat unmolested, gleaming with an eerie silver glow even still despite the room circulating around Jack's eyes. Each step felt heavier than it should have, with a strange and sudden headache framing his flashing fatigue. His steps devolved into a lumbering gait by the time Jack had tripped forward onto the table. His chest had been peppered with glass shards cutting lecherous gaps into his skin. Jack wanted to use his gun, but his vision blurred. In a fit of frustration, he just grabs the handle of both. One time he had played cops and robbers with his little brother. John cut his calf on a rock, and would bawl for a solid minute before Jack could comfort the little guy. He carried his sleeping brother home upon his back, not minding at all the drooling five year old. In a daze, Jack opens his eyes, with his chin firmly planted on the table. He must have passed out for a second there. Now that Jack was no longer preoccupied, what ifs would not stop haunting his weary head. What if he had just taken the blame for Sheriff Johnson? No one believed Jack even after submitting evidence of the Lawman's involvement with his parents death. Not even John. Jack stumbles forward, with a thick fog of darkness wanting to descend upon his eyelids. For John's sixth birthday, and Jack's Eleventh, his father had bought them a Pistol. Engraved on each hilt, was a similar line. ' Brothers, forever. Nothing shall stand between us. ' Nothing will stand in our way. Blood is beyond boundary. ' Jack was ashamed he had once believed that. Catching himself with a heavy step forward, Jack finds himself collapsed downward onto a single knee. His legs felt like rubber, and failed to support him further. How much blood had he lost? Jack feebly raised his left arm, his aim obviously shaky. He was seeing doubles. Luckily, he had two guns. Jack raised his right arm, training both weapons upon the heads of both John and Jack's blood-wanting illusion. “ Brothers forever, right? “ He heard the voice of his younger brother speak, as he was at Six. “ Forever. “ He heard himself reply, pulling both of the triggers. After that, there was inky blackness seemingly eager to swallow him whole. Unconsciousness was a peaceful affair, to the point Jack felt regret that someday soon he would wake. ************ RP Complete! Good show everybody. This went better than I expected.
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Post by endymien on May 3, 2009 19:04:45 GMT -5
;-; Well damn. Now it's all sad. I feel bad rooting for death now.
Good fun Jack!
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