Sock It To Meme sockittomeme wrote in memebells
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999. The Wild West meme


Welcome to the wild west! No cars, no telephones, no fancy space lasers. Just horses, dust, and bullets. Does your muse have what it takes to survive in the old west?

Post a comment with your muse's name, canon, and which role they'll be playing in this western. Example: John Doe - Every Story Ever - Sheriff
Feel free to set up a little of the scene with where your muse is and what they're doing. Example: The town sheriff's sitting in front of the jail, watching the town.
Others reply to your comment with another piece of the western puzzle. Maybe it's the stagecoach driver visiting the local brothel or the wanted gunslinger challenging her rival.
Have fun!

1. SHERIFF - You're the law in this town. Do you keep the peace or take a piece for yourself? Not everyone who wears the tin star wears it for a good reason.
2. BOUNTY HUNTER - You make your money tracking down the worst of the worst. Do you bring them in still breathing, or is the 'alive' part in 'Dead or Alive' only a last resort?
3. WANTED MAN - Maybe you're a ruthless killer. Maybe you've been charged with a crime you didn't commit. Either way, there's a price on your head and people who want to collect.
4. GUNSLINGER - You've made a name for yourself with your gun. Now, people want to hire you for your skills or kill you to prove their own.
5. PROSTITUTE - Sometimes there's a brothel in town and sometimes it's just a handful of ladies (or gents) working out of the local saloon. Someone's got to entertain the stagecoach travelers and divest them of their money.
6. STAGECOACH DRIVER - Your job sucks. Hundreds of hours riding on a wooden bench behind galloping horses, getting shot at by bandits or chased by the local natives. You need a drink, a good meal, and maybe some company?
7. DOCTOR - Did you actually study this or do you just like to cut people open?
8. SALOON WORKER - You might own the place or just tend bar there. Maybe you're the poor sucker who plays the piano? Either way, you see it all.
9. NATIVE - An army scout, a stately tribal Chief, or an angry brave... there are foreign men all over your country now. Do you try for peace or take back what's yours?
10. OTHER - Got another role you'd rather play? Go for it!

Also available at memebells on InsaneJournal.

Simon Kemble | Crossroads Demon OC | bartender

[Crossroads are few and far between in one-horse towns, but there are still deals to be made. So Simon's set himself up in a fairly nice saloon that serves decent booze and has clean rooms on the second floor. And if some of the clientele is a little... creepier than average, well. He's a demon. It comes with the territory.]

7!

[It's a big, wild, largely dangerous territory out here. People get hurt in the damnedest ways, come down with all manner of afflictions.

The local doctor? He just puts up with it, patient and longsuffering, always with a comforting word. Except for the barkeep, that is. For the barkeep, he's got a remarkable and seemingly never-ending supply of sarcasm and not-quite-hostility. Almost like those two have some kinda history, the locals say. But whatever it is, Doc Azarias isn't talking.]

[And neither is Simon. He will give as good as he gets, sort of, because the Doc can get cranky and smite-y if he's sassed too much, and Simon ain't forgot how low in the ranks he is compared to a blasted archangel. What said archangel is doing out here in the ass-end of nowhere is a question for the ages, but Daddy works in mysterious ways, he supposes, and Raph-- excuse him, Azarias ain't explaining. He just gives Simon one of those enigmatic Looks of his and orders another round that doesn't affect him.

And the doc does come in handy when there's a shootout in the saloon. Like the one happening right now.]

[Damn it all, anyway, this is what an angel gets for trying to have a quiet drink. Hard to say what the quarrel even is -- it's always something ultimately foolish, a matter of a few dollars or a horse or a cow, something not worth killing for.

There's those who say the Doc is bulletproof. He earned that reputation by doing just what he's doing now -- coming out from cover and striding towards one of the two initial combatants like an angry father about to deliver a sound thrashing and a talking-to.]

Jonathan Bailey, what the hell?

Edited at 2012-06-22 08:07 pm (UTC)

["He started it!"

Simon rolls his eyes and puts his (unfired) shotgun back under the bar. Not that he needs Raph-- Azarias to break up the fights that occasionally crop up, but it's always nice having backup, even if they are on opposite sides in most things.

Hamilton Crane, the other party, starts to bring his gun around to cover the Doc, and Simon pulls the shotgun back out and sets it on the mahogany bartop.] Ham. Don't. This ain't the time nor the place.

Bailey, you'll put that gun up this instant if you know what's good for you. Now I don't care who started this foolishness, I'm putting an end to it, and you can talk it out like civilized men, do you hear me?

[The Doc's never raised a hand to a man in his whole life, at least not that anyone can recall, but damned if he doesn't talk like he'll take that pistol out of Bailey's hand and whack him one with it if Bailey doesn't do as he says.]

That's the third chandelier this week. Pay for it, or I'm taking it out of your hide, Ham. [Simon doesn't take his hand off the stock of the shotgun.] There's only so much breakage I can afford as a cost of doing business.

[Doc Azarias doesn't even look away from Bailey, who still has his gun -- shakily -- in hand.] Perhaps you ought to reconsider the wisdom of continuing to install low-hanging glassware in this particular bar, Kemble.

Edited at 2012-06-25 02:16 am (UTC)

[Ben Lockwood, local gambler, shoves his hat back on his head with the head of his wolf's-head cane and props his bad leg up on an empty chair.] Maybe if the place didn't attract the sort of clientele it does, you wouldn't have to keep replacing the lights. [He eyes a demon who's passing for human at the end of the bar. It bares a tooth back at him and turns sullenly back to its drink.] All manner of unpleasantness could be avoided if you had a better atmosphere in here.

When the man's right, the man's right, Kemble. [The Doc gets close enough to take the gun out of the wavering hand of Jonathan Bailey, and he does so, breaking the thing open and turning it over so the ammunition scatters onto the floor. He closes up the gun and hands it back with a Look.]

Now that's enough of that nonsense.

[And Janni Miller, local ranch owner, smacks her whiskey glass down on the bartop and fixes Hamilton with a Look.] Can't a lady have a quiet drink in what passes for a semblance of peace after a hard day of branding? I ask you. [And Hamilton quails under her gaze, holsters his gun with a sheepish expression, and gives Simon a few greenbacks for his busted chandelier.

She huffs and goes back to her drink.] Finally. You know, if you boys need to blow off steam, I got plenty of work on my ranch needs doin'. I'll wear you out right quick.

[Bailey ducks his head and mumbles something sheepish, and the Doc makes a shooin-away motion.] You get on home, Bailey, there's enough liquor in you for one day.

[Simon puts the shotgun back under the bar and pours a freebie for the Doc and another for Miss Miller, seein' as how they defused a volatile situation for him. He shoots a glare around at the rest of the people.] That's enough excitement for one night. You all got me?

[Ben gives him a cheeky grin and starts dealing out another hand of poker. "I'd sure as hell rather play cards than watch some guy get shot."]

No kiddin'. [The piano player re-emerges from behind his upright, retrieves his bowler hat, and dusts it off on his sleeve before sitting back down. Not that he's any less bulletproof than the Doc, but these are details.]

[Ben shoots him a grin and rakes in the ante from the first hand of cards.] Play something jaunty, Guri. Dissipate some of the tension in the place.

You got it, Mister Lockwood. [Guriel tips his hat and launches into something up-beat and complicated, fingers flying across the keys.

The Doc, meanwhile, raises his free drink in a grudging gesture of thanks to the bartender.]

[It looks like things are going back to normal -- until a small and nondescript stranger comes through the swinging doors like he owns the place, and just... stands there. Looking around. Slowly, the conversation dies away as the patrons notice him.]

[The piano trickles to a stop right after the conversation does, and Guriel turns and looks across the bar at the Doc, like he's waiting for instructions or something.

The Doc? He just Looks placidly at the newcomer and goes right back to his drink like it's no big thing.]

[The stranger's hand hovers over his gun for a moment, waiting for a challenge that doesn't come. Satisfied, he saunters up to the bar and orders a double whiskey, no soda, and plants a hip on a barstool. He's still looking around, scoping out who the power players are and which ones might pose a threat.

He's the vanguard.]

[The Doc takes his measure and turns slowly in his seat to face the newcomer, all placid interest. Whatever's going on behind those dark eyes, Doc's not letting slip.] New in town, aren't you.

That I am. [Ash sips his whiskey. This one's definitely a power player. The boss will want to know.] Plannin' on stayin' a spell, dude. [He casts an eye over Miss Miller.] 'Specially if all your women are this handsome.

[She just snorts and rolls her eyes.]

[The Doc's expression doesn't change. He's a miracle of self-control, that one, everyone says it.] We're fortunate to have a whole lot of folks in these parts as strong-willed and hardworking as Miz Miller. By my reckoning, that counts for a great deal more.

Strong-willed, huh? [Now his interest is peaked. He notes no ring on her finger.] Call me Ash, miss, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.

[Ben's cards crumple in his hands.]

[The Doc doesn't miss that, no he does not.] What business you in, Mister Ash?

Oh, you know. Little of this. Little of that. Freelance gun for hire up until recently. But when a man like my patron makes me an offer like he made me, well. I'm hired on permanent-like, doing... security work, now.

[At the phrase "gun for hire," Janni sniffs. If she was wearing skirts, she'd pull them aside, but as it is, her denim-clad knees twitch away.]

(no subject) - stirsthewaters, 2012-06-26 05:36 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - youallfalldown, 2012-06-26 06:40 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - stirsthewaters, 2012-06-26 08:11 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - dogeat_underdog, 2012-06-26 08:43 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - stirsthewaters, 2012-06-27 01:10 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - dogeat_underdog, 2012-06-27 01:19 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - stirsthewaters, 2012-06-27 01:44 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - youallfalldown, 2012-06-27 01:49 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - stirsthewaters, 2012-06-27 02:44 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - will_wolf, 2012-06-27 03:00 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - stirsthewaters, 2012-06-27 03:55 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - will_wolf, 2012-06-27 06:44 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - guriel, 2012-07-01 10:55 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - youallfalldown, 2012-07-01 11:49 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - guriel, 2012-07-01 11:59 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - werewolf_hacker, 2012-07-07 03:18 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - guriel, 2012-07-07 04:07 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - fierce_hermia, 2012-07-07 04:09 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - guriel, 2012-07-07 04:12 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - youallfalldown, 2012-07-07 04:31 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - guriel, 2012-07-07 04:41 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - dogeat_underdog, 2012-07-07 04:45 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - guriel, 2012-07-07 05:02 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - will_wolf, 2012-07-08 04:15 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - guriel, 2012-07-08 04:40 am (UTC)(Expand)
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