Into town rode a stranger...

Okay, Taur wanted me to come up with another idea for a RP, and here's mine. COWBOYS! Now, I want people to tell me straight out whether or not they actually will play this or not. I'm not gonna bother if we'll only have three RPers.
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In the barren desert of the Shimmering Flats, there was a town. Located a mile east of the canyon known as Thousand Needles, it was a town of legends, with a population of only three-hundred. In this very town William the Swift, who in the end wasn’t swift enough, was born. This dunghole of a town had been terrorized by Zul’Maka the bow, who was brought down by Greasy-Bonnie, last seen fleeing from the Lowneck-Brothers after losing the oldest one in a match of poker. It was the town which outlawed Glerrim the Grim, meanest son of a gun ever to be seen wandering the wastes of Azeroth. The last sherrif of the town, Shifty-Eyed-Jesse was gunned down when he was foolish enough to sit next to the window at the local saloon. The position of sherriff had been up for grabs for over a year.

The inhabitants had long since grown accustomed to the endless fighting. Old man Rickie had opened up a gun shop in which profit was plenty, and Mol’thrikkie the Sly had opened up a hospital to treat the wounded, for a fat sum of fee of course. It was hard to find a decent soul in this rugged desert, in this hellhole of a town. The populace was rotten, filthy and greedy, and it was a miracle that so many still survived. Yes, under the scorching sun, loaded with more whiskey than could ever be consumed by three-hundred men, fogged by the smoke of putout cigars and gunpowder, there was the town of Salthill.

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“This food pigshit!” A fat ogre slammed the table of the saloon, sending the meatbuns and gravy flying through the air landing on the hat of a dwarf who looked older than the World Tree itself. The customers gave him a dull look, he was far from being the worst they’d seen.

“You dun’ like it, you eat somewhere else.” The rugged dwarf, none to disturbed by the meatbuns on his hat, gave the ogre a look so mean, a rattlesnake would have fled away terrified.

The ogre stood up, he was a tall one. “You wanna fight old man!? I rip your heart! I tear off your head!” he walked over to the dwarf’s table and went for his club.

“Not in ‘ere boys” Phillie, the bartender stood behind the counter and polished a mug with traces of vomit in it. “Take it outside, not in the mood fer cleanin’ blood.” The dwarf stood up and buckled his belt. “Right Phillie, be seein’ you in about ten minutes.” The ogre was furious “You won’t be seein nothin! I eat your head you son of whore!” The dwarf put on his jacket and walked outside. “Ten minutes boy, outside O’Harley’s livery”

Ten minutes later the population of Salthill had dropped by one.

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Okay, so this is a cowboy RP in Azeroth. Rifles, revolvers and blazing saddles are things you should be seeing in this one. There are three sides:

-The law enforcers
-The bandits
-The tauren indians

Despite the fact that these three factions despise each other, they don’t neccecarily shoot each other on sight. The sherriff wont shoot just any man he thinks is guilty of something, he tries to get proof first. Likewise the bandits can stay civil within the town limits to avoid getting kicked out. Indians and the townsfolk have a truce for trading and other stuff, but the pact is hanging by a thread.

The plot will reveal itself once the RP kicks off.

Character creation should be limited to what makes sense. That means, blood elf cowboys are a nono, as well as any form of undead players, except perhaps bandits. I expect to see a lot of banks being robbed, people getting shot, and in general, the feel of the old West in Azeroth!

Current characters:

Dominant-Male: Olly, the rifle wielding veteran, Bad guy side
erwtenpeller: Lola, shovel wielding short babe, Meanie side
Vig0r: Guido, sleasy goblin that likes his poker, Eeeevil side

Plasma Dragon: Strife, ass kicking cowboy, Law an' ordah!
Murloc Lover: Nodu, token Asian character sidekick :), Deputy.

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NPC'S

Jesse - Human (DEAD)

The towns last sherriff, was killed by Grim.

Glerrim the Grim , nicknamed Grim - Orc

The current leader of the bandits, has vicious mood tempers. Large, and sports a matching revolver.

Rickie - Dwarf

The towns gunsmith, makes guns after demand. Rugged looking, his beard is torn and his clothes are rags.

Mol'Thrikkie - Troll

Owns the local "hospital", which is more of a trollish herbal juju place. Old troll, wrinkled and blind.

Phillie - Human

Bartender at the "Sour Mug" saloon. A small, snake looking man that looks irritated at all times.

DEPUTIES

Greedy Pete - Human

A young human which desperately wants to be sherriff, but never qualifies. Detests most current sherriffs. Uses a sawed off shotgun.

Fat Richard - One headed ogre

A dumb deputy with a heart made of gold. Wields a sledgehammer.

Old man Martin - Human

A very old looking man, handles paperwork. Uses a revolver.

BANDITS

The Ropher Twins - Orc brothers

Orcs that finish each others sentences. They both dual wield revolvers clumsily.

Red Death - Human

A young female human mute. Gets her nickname after her haircolour. Wields throwing knives. Deadly.

"Play it again, Mart!"

The old man took another sip of his whiskey and slammed his head into the piano, as the crowd around him began laughing. The deputies were having a party to honour the late Sherriff Jesse at the Sour Mug and the citizens of Salthill had gathered there as well. The place was rowdy, not a single soul was sober. The whores, the merchants, the farmers, the dogs, everyone in town was there. After a few speeches the deputies took their leave and headed for the station.

Shodo, Martin, Nodu, Pete and Rover, the police dog stumbled around singing and swinging their bottles.

"Jesse, you rotten' oaf, leavin us alone in this hellhole!"
"Yeah, he really was an oaf, wasn't he?"
"Stuff it Pete, just stuff it.
"So, the new guy that applied earlier is comin' in t'morrow?"
"Ayoop."
"Some day I'll be the sherriff, I don't trust these new guys."
"Just stuff it Pete."

They rambled on till they hit the police station and fell asleep whereever they could, inside town, the party still went on.

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Under the starlit sky, just outside hut that a beggar would frown at, Oliver was heating up a can of beans. He was expecting a visitor.

"They just don't can beans like they used to." he thought to himself as he poured the ooze looking beans onto his pan and put it over his campfire. He rolled up a cigarette and gazed off into the darkness. A coyote howled in the distance. All of a sudden he heard something closing in, scuffling about.

"C'mere Crocker, is he here?"

A three legged raccoon ran out of a bush and climbed up to his shoulder and positioned himself there.

"Guess that's a yes then."

Olly loaded his rifle and went up to a nearby hill. He spotted the visitor coming a couple of hundred meters away. "Grim, you want to kill me in my sleep, you better do it during the day."
He closed one eye and let off a shot that pierced the head of Glerrim the Grim.

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An hour later the door was slammed at another hut, even muskier and rustier than the other. "Grim's dead, I'll be leadin' you scum now. I have some plans for next week so don't get yourself killed until then."

The bandits examined Olly as he entered. "Oh, you're man..."

"... from other day!" The Ropher twins peered their eyes and placed their hand on their holsters. "How we know...." "... we can trust you?"

The Red Death sat in a corner and sharpened her knives. She rolled her eyes as if she didn't care at all. A few more bandits lay wasted on the ground, too much whiskey.

Olly tilted his hat. "What have you got to lose?"

Chester was watering the horses, Chester liked watering the horses.

Oh sure he didnt get paid for it, but he didnt really need money. Even though he didnt request anything for his small but important services, people often gave him some food or a place to stay in the inn. He didnt need money.

And sure, most people either ignored him, or kicked dust in his face when they collected his horses. He was even beaten up pretty badly once, cause someone thought he was stealing thier mare. Which was of course natural. They had every right to be suspicious, you could never trust anyone these days. Chester knew he probably deserved it, and a lot more, but he was just lucky he got off light.

He finished feeding the horses with what oats his meagre coin could buy. He smiled as the horses ate up, some people said he feed the horses more than himself, Chester really didnt care. Horses were probably more important than him anyways.

"Eh kid!" called a voice from the Sour Mug, that was what they called him, kid. "Need ye to pour some drinks!"

Chester nodded, and hurried off, making sure the horses were okay. He loved to help.

When he entered the other tavern, no one really paid him much attention. The women didnt spare him a second glance. Chester was used to that, he probably would never get married.

He hoisted the bottle and shouted

"Who wants s'more?" of course everyone yelled at the same time. Chester almost sighed, it was gonna be a long day.

It was the beginning of a dry day. The four other deputies were in the station, just waking up groggily from the previous night. A mumbling could be heard of each of them as the slept the day away. A stranger appeared out in the horizon, getting closer. The still remained asleep until something off in the distance could be heard. *ping*...*ping*...*ping* a ping sounded out and after a while, it got louder and louder. Until it could be heard approaching the station door. The deputies rolled around a bit*ping* a final ping shot out before the door was damn well kicked down.

The four deputies jumped up and looked at the doorway, half asleep. A tall dark figure stood in the doorway, holding a metal lighter in one hand. "Who er you?!" Fat Richard shouted out.

The man stepped inside slowly and the men almost went for their weapons. The man spoke back coldly, "I'm the new Sheriff in these parts...and you guy's must be them deputies I've heard about, yeah?" Then Old man Martin slowly nodded his head. The man laughed slightly and dipped his hat down. Then twitched his head up and yelled loudly. "Then what the hell are you doing asleep?!! I've arrived! Now make it official that I've started already!!!"

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It wasn't long before they were all awake from the new Sheriff's yelling. "My name's Strife Runner, but they know me as "Quickdraw" Martin was writing all of the information needed. One word questions threw themselves out from the sheet on Martin's paper and Strife spoke the answers as fast as his nickname.

Once all that had been accomplished, Strife walked towards the door and turned around. "I'm going to look around this town an see what's going on. I'll start at the Saloon. What's it called, again?"

"Sour Mug" Pete gave out.

"Good, in the meantime, I want Martin to finish up that paper work. I'm gonna need a lot of clarifications to do whatever necessary to uphold the law, including killin, commandeerin, stealin, garrisonin, an everything else." Martin got to work immediately. "Richard, you can patrol the station, I'll need you to instantly tell me if anything goes wrong. I won't have any of ya's killed." Richard gave a salute smiling to him. Strife shook his head at the pleasant ogre, finding him amusing as he walked out the door. "You, pandaman or whatever. You can do what you want for now. And you, Pete, you can patrol the town and just keep an eye on things." Pete frowned a little bit, it wasn't the work that upset him, it was being bossed around again. Pete walked in front of Strife and tried to look intimidating.

"Look here you...man. You may be Sheriff right now, but you'll be gunned down soon enough, just like Jesse and before 'em. An then a'll take yer place as the Sheriff." Pete spoke into Strife's face, then spat down and the wad hit the desk, landing on some papers. Martin flinched and moved away slightly from the spot Pete spat on. Bad move.

Strife tipped his hat down and then put his hand on Pete's shoulder. Pete looked at Stife's hand, then at his face with an eyebrow raised. Then Strife brought his other hand up to the side of Pete's head, and then smashed his head into the same spot he spat on the desk. Pete then fell to the floor, feeling his face go numb, and then getting a nose bleed. Nothing too serious, nothing broken. Then Strife bended over and picked Pete up with one hand by the collar on his shirt. "I don't intend to die here...an if you make a mess in my station, you'll clean it up with your face...I'm running this operation here, an if you try anything against me, I won’t hesitate to shoot ya."

Strife then took out his lighter from his pocket and flipped the light on. He slowly brought it closer to Pete's face and then stopped as he reached too close to his eye. He then saw a drop of sweat run down Pete's face. Strife grinned and then...*PING*...Pete had shut his eyes in reflex. Strife then dropped him to the ground and Pete backed up to the opposite side of the room. "Do as I say and don't question it and we might be good friends. I'm normally a nice guy. Really." With that, Strife turned and went to the Sour Mug...*Ping*...*Ping*...

Pete, Martin, and Nodu stared in the direction of the door way as their new Sheriff left. Pete got a handkerchief and held it up to his nose. "And that guy's supposed to be leading the good guys?!" Pete shouted out.

Martin sighed and started writing more stuff down. "Just stuff it, Pete...Just stuff it..."

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It was a busy day at Goldrush, the local casino. Funny fact about the Casino is that it was bigger then the station and the Salloon put together. It was the richest place in this hellhole, probably because it was the only way out of it. People came here, hoping to find they're fortunes for a one-ticket way out. Amongst these where honourable people, but mostly scumbags. But above everything, there was Guido Grizzlefingers.

Although it was busy. the Casino struck quiet and gazed at the poker table once "Gambler's" arch-nemesis "'Oll Hanky", an ancient human with a beard that knew no match. Rumors where that he hid his aces in there - no matter. Cheating was all part of the game in the Goldmine.

The dealer shifted out the cards, and the people gazed onto the table in total silence. Guido lowered his hat, so that his eyes where covered. Bloody hell...terrible cards! A two of clover and a nine of hearts. Guido took of his hat and put up his famous "Poker-Grin". Hanky frowned. Hanky was one of those players who didn't use facial expressions - he just played. Guido acted as though he was terribly nervous, biting his nails and stuff. All pro players know, that nervous players often have to high cards. Except, offcourse, if they are bluffing that they are nervous. Except, if they know they're opponent will think they are bluffing and thus he will not bluff because he knows...

Guido snickered lightly. "I raise. How about ye, oldy?" Hanky sat there looking like a 1000-aged mummy. "With ye". The additional card was dealed - A ace of hearts! Whilst Hanky got a two.This would help Guido outbluff the geezer. "I raise with a thousand gold". The people gasped - that was some extriordinary raise! He must have some more aces under there, or maybe even a full house! "With ye" The geezer replied. Although Guido was stunned by this retalliation, he kept his grin up. He had to raise again, outbluff him, or he would loose.

This time, with a little more backbone into it. "I raise with ten-thousand." This time, the crowd gasped even louder. Hanky looked stunned for a brief moment. "With ye" Hanky replied calmly. Well, Guido hates to admit it, but he really had to admit he was getting kind of fed up with the geezer. Raising, raising raising! Suddenly, he saw Hanky's face shift only a little bit...and it wasn't a nervous expression - it was fear. Guido grinned. "Lets show us what ye got then!" Hanky played the cards... aaand... It was even worse crap then Guido's fingers held. Guido showed his cards in truimph, and plunghed trough the tokens. "Better luck next time, ye old geezer!" Guido cackled as he jumped off his heightened chair to cash in. It was enough for the day.

You have to know when to quit see - you never know when your luck turns. Although, luck rarely turns its back in Guido "Gambler" Grizzlefingers...

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Nodu chuckled mildly as Pete whimpered about the station, holding his face and whining about sherrifs and how long he had been here for. He let out a yawn and got himself up. Putting a hand through his greasy hair, he left the station. This quickdraw guy seemed good, but perhaps not good enough to last in Salthill. Hell, who was.

He saw Strife further up ahead, pacing confidently towards the Sour Mug. Heads were turning as he walked across the street. The people of Salthill didn't like strangers. They were more often that not bad news, or about to have enough bullets riddled into them to take down a ravasaur.

Nodu grabbed hold of his Katana, and jogged up towards Strife. Huffing and wheezing from only that short burst, Nodu caught up with Strife. Strife raised one eyebrow at the worn-out pandaren, looking slightly unimpressed. "What you up too, though I said ye could do what ye liked"

Nodu let out a chuckle, and pushed back his long hair once again "I wish that were true. I am Nodu Sashaziro, Pandaren Shado-Pan. And I shall be your body guard during your time in Salthill" Nodu put his hands together, and quickly bowed to Strife, still wheezing.

"I don't need no bodyguard. Get yerself sorted out, yer look a mess."
"I think you slightly underestimate the crooks in this here town. I've spent nearly half my damn life trying to protect every sherrif this town has had!"
Strife chuckled, half in bewilderment
"Jus' what the hell are you doin' out here anyway panda-man. I thought yer kind was too ignorant and selfish to ever leave your paradise island."
There was a silence, as a small cloud of dust rolled between the two. Nodu looked down at the floor.
"I owe a blood debt to the sherrif of this town whoever he is. I would much appreciate it if you let me attempt to pay it"

After a long, long walk from the middle of the desert where her mechanical digger and transporter had given out, Lola finally arrived in a town called "Salthill". It was small, she had never heard of it, but she was tired and thristy, so it'd just have to do. She walked into the Saloon, leaving the doors flapping behind her, set her backpack to the bar, used it to get up a barstool. Standing up on it, seh reached just high enough to lean her arms onto the bar, and squeel with a high-pitched voice:

"Yo barkeep! Give me a room and a pint then! The room no need be large, but the pint must be well filled!" The bartender frowned at the gnome, but poored her a huge pint of beer and slipped her a key.
"Its the broomcloset. Should be large enough for the likes of you, aye?"
Lola looked a bit dissapointed, but then chuckled.
"Sure, as long as it has a soft bed, cool drink and a warm man, i'm happy!" Lola sqeeled and then downed the pint with remarkable easy. She peered around the saloon untill she spotted a male she thought "fitting". Pointed at him, and told the barkeep: "My drinks will be on him tonight!" She hopped off the barstool, and went to the young human male. Lola would not sleep in the broom closet tonight...

Guido left the Goldmine, rattling like a piggy bank. This sure was a lot of gold! He went outside humming a tune swinging his bag full of wealth around. All of a sudden, he felt a whack on his head, and everything went black.

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Lola was walking to the human male, ready to work her charm on him, when all of a sudden something grabbed her hair and pulled her into a corner. She was gagged by a large figure, she couldn't make out what he looked like in the dark, and stuffed in a bag. Everything went black.

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An hour later, both Guido and Lola woke up bound to a couple of chairs, in a place that looked dirty beyond describing. Broken bottles everwhere, stools crushed on the floor and the stench of vomit in the air. In front of them sat two orcs that looked exactly the same. Lola recognized the smell of them from the saloon.

"Yuck, you stink man!" She frowned and tried to close her nostrils with her lips since she couldn't use her hands.

"YOU BE..." "...QUIET NOW!" The orcs shouted at her. "BOSS IS...." "...COMING!"

A door was opened at the other side of the room and in stepped a tall human male, very rugged in appearance.

"Guido Grizzlefingers, eh?"

The man sat down on a chair in front of them that looked like it was just about to break.

"Yeah, that's me! Hey, how's about you let me walk, I mean, the girl is enough, eh?"

The man examined the goblin from top to bottom. "You've got quite a reputation here in town, they call you the best poker player there is. Shame you don't have a knack for recognizing fools gold from the real type, boy."

He emptied Guido's bag on the floor in front of them. "Not worth squat." Guido's eyes opened wide. "M-my gold!! Give me back my gold!" He wriggled around in his chair. The man then proceeded to examine Lola.

"Lola Rend, they tell me that what you don't drink, hump, or eat, you blow up. Hmpf, you'll do."

"Now, you must be asking yourselves why you're here. There'l be a heist next week and I need a demolitions expert and someone sly. We'll be getting a reward ten times more than what the gambler here thought he had gotten tonight. Now, in or out?"

Strife gave out a heaving sigh. He then looked at the door as a small gnome girl entered, swinging the doors. He looked back to the ground, thinking it over in his head. Turning his head back to Nobu just then. "I suppose I could let you hang with me for a while...Nobu then pandaren, right?"

"Y-Yes sir!" Nodu exclaimed, quite pleased.

"Nobu'll do, yeah?" Strife confirmed.

"That would be fine!" Nobu yelled out, adding a bow or two. Strife chuckled again and shook his head, he'd never understand outsider customs but he eventually got used to them.

"Alright, alright...Com'on, we got work to do. Looks as if this trash heap needs repairin. Strife then slammed the swinging doors open, making a loud smack as one unfortunate drunk was in front of the door, now on the wall. Every soul in the building looked towards Strife. He stepped in slowly, his boot steps echoed throughout the room. Nobu followed after and from the tag-along pandaren, everyone knew the new sheriff had arrived.

Strife walked to Phillie, the bartender. "A pint'll do," he spoke out low. Phillie filled up a glass and handed it to him. "Give this guy one too," he said, pointing to Nobu, "looks like he needs it." A chuckle followed from Quickdraw's mouth

"You always seem to have to make a big entrance" Nobu spoke as Phillie handed him a filled glass too.

"Shhhh..." Strife whispered, "Helps a guy look intimidatin," Strife smiled at his bodyguard.

"So you're the new Sheriff, hm?" Phillie asked, polishing a glass. "You're in for it in this town, bandits can be seen all left to right. They'll come after ya soon enough, ya know. Maybe you should leave while you got your life still with ya."

Strife chuckled, "Then let 'em come, this'll be their ending days if they cross me." Phillie laughed, the new sheriff might of been full of himself, but at least he knew his way. "Hey, pour yourself a glass too, barkeep." Phillie nodded, then doing as such. Strife held out his glass and Nobu followed. Phillie shook his head in amusement, then did like wise. "Here's to a new age, my reign. Where everyone'll want to come to a place like this." The three laughed, it seemed impossible, but they tipped there glasses and downed the drink anyway.

"Untie me you brute!" Lola yelled while furiously trying to get out of her restrains. The clumbsy chair was too large for her, and this was anything but comfortable. "Untie me or i'll scream!!"
The man kneeled down in front of Lola, and rubbed her cheeck with a finger.
"And what good do you think that will do miss? You think some brave soul will come save you? Not in this town baby, not in this town."
Lola joinked her head away from the mans finger.
"Who said i was going to yell for help?" And Lola started screaming. No, schreaking! It was an incredibly irritaing, ear-piercing high pitched sound. The orcs covered up they're ears and yelled out of irritation.
"Allright allright!! untie the girl!! quickly!! Anything to make it stop!!"
The orcs rushed to untie Lola. She hopped off the chair, rubbing her wrists. Then she looked up to the tall human with a smile.
"In or out you say? I'm in, i'm stuck in this here town anyway, might as well make some money while i'm here. Besides, you are kind of cute." Lola said with a wink.

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After a succesfull afternoon of trashin' the money out of the poor costumer's pockets, Guido had been struck down, followed by a gap in his memory. He woke up in a extremely smelly and messy basement, which looked a bit like a graveyard. To his greatest discust, he was with a gnome... woman.

Two orcs where staring at them. Guido didn't quite mind... as long as they kept they're grubby paws off him. Guido put up his pokergrin to the girl. "Silly little gnome... What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" To his dismay, he mentioned the gnome was still knocked out. Grand.... he couldn't even joke around. "SHUT..." "...IT" the orcs boomed, finishing eachother sentences. Moments later, the gnome also became consious, and started whinig immideatly... the way gnomes do. Spoiled, I tell you - they all are.

"So... yer telling me this money is FAKE?" Guido gasped in disbelief. The human grinned. "Aye... if you would look more closely, ye wouldn't make such stupid mistakes." Guido glared at a coin...both sides where identical, both heads. "GOD DAMNIT!" The human chuckled. "They are going to pay for that... lousy bums!" Guido screamed as he heated up.

Then came a proposition... to make more gold then Guido could ever imagine. He could build his own casino... with the forune he'd safed up by now. And rule this stinky, smelly place, draining it from every penny it had to offer. "Seems like a...worthy investment. Now untie me so we can discuss the share... I persume I will be getting atleast 50%? Oh, and please ditch the shrieking gnome, she hurts my ears" Guido cackled in response.

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Olly motioned to the Ropher twins to untie the goblin. "I'm Oliver. You'll be hearin' from me in the next days." Then he grabbed his rifle and walked out the door. "Hey what about the 50%?! Hey!"

He went into what looked vaguely like a kitchen, aside from the fact that the only food there was a rotten loaf of ham and three kegs of whiskey. He pushed a sleeping bandit off the table and proceeded to make coffee. Boy did he need it, four days without sleep can do that to a man. He gazed off into the distance. Yeah, he'd better visit Salthill to make preperations.