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Outlaw-Jack
06-18-2011, 06:07 AM
Howdy y'all!

For quite a while now, I've been around LBPC doing various typing stuffs (from participating in FRPGs to throwing in my two cents in arguments to, currently, typing up a most epic story for a most epic project... shhhh, it's a surprise.)), and, all the while... I've noticed the Creative Writing thread looking like, well... a ghost town. More than half of the topics on the front page alone were posted last year. Recent posts, like Ayneh's (http://www.lbpcentral.com/forums/showthread.php?57515-LBPC-Duel-at-Sunset) hilarious tale and Kog's (http://www.lbpcentral.com/forums/showthread.php?28625-THE-ULTIMATE-DESTINY-OF-SACKBOY-WHO-IS-PROTAGONIST-(A-Funny-Tale-of-Bad-Grammar)) ultimatum of grammar "do-not"s, are both awesome pieces of literature and should NOT be missed. But, sadly, they are. The Creative Writing forum suffers from a lack of interest in posters and readers these days, and is widely regarded as a dead zone, where it's mostly overshadowed by the immaculate Artwork and Creativity forum it's attached.

Well, let's try restoring some relevance around here.

This story will take place in the Wild West, a region in the realm of LBPC that's home to mighty mountains, vast deserts, gorgeous canyons and sweeping prairies... and the many, colorful people who live among them. The story will focus on the many adventures of James Warren Barrett, a young and ambitious apprentice who becomes the infamous outlaw Warren "Peace". As his story begins to unfurl, he'll run into many different people and cultures, most of whom will be inspired and/or be LBPC members (set to a Westernized theme, o' course). Many trials and many events will happen to James as his life story plays out, eventually coming to a surprising, and yet shocking, finale.

Now, before I proceed with the first part, a warning/reminder (whichever way you look at it): If you are a member on LBPC, new or old, you are susceptible to being included into the story. However, since I am a man or peace (despite my username)... and that I do not wish to cause any more drama/flaming/arguing around here (we've had too much of that -_-), if you are mentioned in the story, and do not wish to take part, simply PM/VM me or post in the thread, and I'll politely remove your reference. On the other hand, if you wish to be included (if you haven't yet) and want to be more specific about yourself/your character, send me a PM and I'll gladly throw you in. My aim is to make this an widespread, LBPC-oriented epic, so expect many people to be incorporated (though not exactly at the scale of LBPC: The Game... that'd be absolutely ludicrous).

I hope this prospect turns out to be worthwhile, and... happy trails!

Outlaw-Jack
06-18-2011, 06:08 AM
((Post reserved for story detailing and background info))

nysudyrgh
06-18-2011, 07:58 AM
Are you gonna write this ?
Or do other members write it further ?

Outlaw-Jack
06-18-2011, 07:59 AM
I'll be writing this. Other members will be thrown into the story to give it that LBPC-ish flare.

craigmond
06-18-2011, 11:14 AM
Wow. So I could be in it? Cog could be in it? Nys could be in it? This story will be epic!

Sackgirlsrule
06-18-2011, 11:58 AM
Count me in! XD I wanna be the fancy Reporter XD :p

Merc
06-18-2011, 12:50 PM
Love the idea, but one question, this gunna be an action, drama, comedy, or what?

>er.
06-18-2011, 01:26 PM
western theme ey? why am i not suprised?

:p

RockSauron
06-18-2011, 01:43 PM
Lol, so doing it for yourself, eh? :p

I so wanted to try doing another one of these, I started... but I just couldn't finish it. Didn't seem funny enough. I unno, maybe I'd need a better plot :/ (Was going to redo the story from my old one... and mix it up with other stuff. Actually, I don't think I had any idea where I was going XD)

Making those two stories were so fun, though... Hopefully you can encompass that awesome :p And maybe I could try and think of a decent story and write a competing story >_> <_<

CyberSora
06-18-2011, 01:47 PM
Lol, so doing it for yourself, eh? :p

I so wanted to try doing another one of these, I started... but I just couldn't finish it. Didn't seem funny enough. I unno, maybe I'd need a better plot :/ (Was going to redo the story from my old one... and mix it up with other stuff. Actually, I don't think I had any idea where I was going XD)

Making those two stories were so fun, though... Hopefully you can encompass that awesome :p And maybe I could try and think of a decent story and write a competing story >_> <_<

Wait, another project? But Rock, you already have unfinished projects! :p

Anybody remember the LBPC Trump Cards? ;)

Outlaw-Jack
06-18-2011, 09:21 PM
Love the idea, but one question, this gunna be an action, drama, comedy, or what?

Some drama, a bit of comedy, plenty of action. Just don't expect a full-blown war in the first chapter or two. :p


western theme ey? why am i not suprised?

:p

... are you insulting me? :\
(I kid, I kid. You knew this was bound to happen.)


Lol, so doing it for yourself, eh? :p

I so wanted to try doing another one of these, I started... but I just couldn't finish it. Didn't seem funny enough. I unno, maybe I'd need a better plot :/ (Was going to redo the story from my old one... and mix it up with other stuff. Actually, I don't think I had any idea where I was going XD)

Making those two stories were so fun, though... Hopefully you can encompass that awesome :p And maybe I could try and think of a decent story and write a competing story >_> <_<

Sorta. Maybe. So? :blush:

And don't worry about encompassing that AWESHUMNESS. I've had plenty of LBPC-type prompt in the other thing I've been writing for quite a while now, so expect some canny references. ;)


Wait, another project? But Rock, you already have unfinished projects! :p

Anybody remember the LBPC Trump Cards? ;)

Same here. Remember Skye?

I'll have the first chapter up sometime today.

Frinklebumper
06-18-2011, 09:34 PM
Haha, as soon as I saw the title I knew it'd be you.

Looking forward to the first chapter! :D

gdn001
06-18-2011, 09:58 PM
Well, when an interesting title appears in there, I go check it out! :D (I should post more often here)

The idea looks nice. Oh, and don't forget about the marine trooper. :kz:

Outlaw-Jack
06-19-2011, 04:50 AM
Alrighty! Here's the first part (more of a prelude than anything else, really):

Unexpected Things

It takes 10 months for a child to be born, and 18 years to mature one. It takes 3 weeks for someone to die of hunger, and 3 days for someone to die of thirst. It takes 2 to make company, and 3 for a crowd. 12 makes a dozen, and 6 makes half that. 8 may be bad luck, but 13 is always worse. The best score is always a 10, though some go beyond that. 6 is afraid of 7, since it ate 9. The numbers 9 and 11, when put together, can mean both a tragic event and a call to one. Anything marked with 69 is only asking for trouble, and anything labeled by 666 is considered a sin. 1 is the loneliest number anyone ever knew, and 2 can be just as bad. 2 plus 2 can equal 4, sometimes fish, and, rarely, 5.

But it only takes 1 person to change a life.

Steel hooves roll along steel roads, tied together by wood and steel nails. A gas-powered eye pierces the dark night, as the hooves keep grinding along, chugga-lugga. The mechanical beast lets out a harsh squeal, beeyoo, as steam vents out from the large blowhole above, chugga-lugga. Day or night, hours on end, this stallion does not falter, chugga-lugga, thanks in part to a healthy dose of wood and coal. Not much can be said for the rider, however. Allen Uccisore (OmegaSlayer) still has 30 miles to go before he and the Eureka 107 can come grinding into its final stop for the night, before continuing on to the residents of San Francisco.

“10 hours in, 10 hours out,” Allen growls to himself. “... Yeah right.”
Allen pull's out a cigar and lights it off, courtesy of the furnace. The amber glow reflects and radiates off of the old man's face, as his cold, set eyes stare on into the night. His chapped lips open up as the bone-dry cigar is crammed between them. A simple puff. Then another. Then a little twirling motion as he vents like his steed. Then back to puffing.
“Aww, are them hours finally grindin' on yah?” Billy Ray Johnson (BlueBulletBill), the engineer's trolling assistant, cooed. “I'll be more than happy to take that there helm off yer hands.”
“If you even lay a finger on that there-a lever, we'll end up in the Pacific before we know it,” Allen snapped back. “An' I don't feel like swimmin' tonight.”
“Golly, Mr. Ucky-sore. Ain't no need fer hostility.” Billy snickers.
“Billy, I can't even trust you with yer own shovel anymore.
“I keep tellin' yahs, them ladies oughta gotten ran over!”
“Did y'all really think that a flimsy shovel can stop a 12-ton locomotive?”
Billy is about to respond, but instead holds himself back and contemplates the question. After many minutes of thinking, he finally understands the question, at which Allen face-palms.
“That's why we can't have nice things,” Allen sighed.
“Well, how 'bout that there fancy-smancy pocket-watch yah got?” Billy asks, pointing to the chain dangling out of Allen's front pocket on his overalls.

The weathered engineer looks down at his pocket, almost reluctantly. The brass, though rusted, chain dangled loosely from the denim opening, seemingly dead if it weren't for the metronomic tick-tocking calling out from the inner cavity. Allen pinches the chain, and tugs it up gently, pulling out the rather splendid clock on the end. The small timekeeper pirouetted below the aged chain, slowly twirling as if in a salutatory dance.
“This thing?” Allen finally replied. “This ain't no railroad commission, boy. This here's a treasure.”
“You reckon so?” Billy smirked. “Ain't purty like one. An' ain't nowhere fancy-smancy, either.”
“Says you,” Allen spat. He promptly presses the spring-button on the watch and the cover swings wide open, revealing the ivory face and golden hands inside.
“Holy Moley!” Billy exclaimed. “How the Sam hill did yah git THAT?!
“With a lil' luck... an' some lead,” Allen stated, pointing over to his rifle hanging from the ceiling of the train compartment. “You ain't seen big 'til you've done shot yerself one of them elephants...”
“Well, shoot. My ol' granddaddy shot one o' dem buffaloes, but... dang. An elephant, Mr. Uccisore?!”
“Darn-tootin'. Why, just the other day, some feller came trottin' up to me and started askin'-”

Suddenly, a sharp scream cuts through the night, nearly scaring both Allen and Billy out of their boots. Allen whips around and smacks the lever to the brake, throwing the steel stallion into a clumsy and jarring skid, as sparks shower out from under the steel hooves grinding on the steel road, beeyoo. Steel on steel, hand on brake, teeth gritting on teeth, the rider and his lackey grasp onto whatever could be grasped, as the lumbering giant comes skidding, slowing, skidding...
With a deep bellow and a hefty lurch, the Wichita-Eureka Line 107 comes to a halt, frozen scared in the middle of the night.

“... Y'all catch that?” Allen asked, slowly letting his grip off the brake.
“You don't reckon that it's...?” Billy asked back, trailing off as the two of them lean out of the side of the train.
Lying there on the railroad tracks, as though yanked out of one of them political cartoons, was the tied and blinded lady that was the fair Ainsley Nancy Cohen (ainsl3y_xo), .
“Well, no need for wastin' one of them shovels now!” Allen remarked. Both he and Billy hop down from the locomotive to survey the awkward situation they just found themselves in.

Ainsley laid flat along the rails, seemingly tied to a pair of ties. Her blonde hair, though usually up-kept and quite neat, was now all messy and covering her eyes. Her eyes flashed at the pair, as though commanding one of them to take off the bandana covering her mouth. Slowly, but reluctantly, Billy reaches down to her and unties the gag, only to be bitten. It must've been an Australian way of saying thank you.
“YEEOOW!” Billy yelped, quickly springing back. “What's that fer?!”
“Dear God, y'all took your sweet time to almost run me over!!” Ainsley shouted, still fussing with her bonds. “I thought I was roadkill fer a second there!”
“Just calm down, missus. We ain't meanin' no harm,” Allen spoke. He took out his bowie knife and began cutting the ropes off of her.
“Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!!” Ainsley hissed back. “Do y'all even KNOW what I've been through today?!”
“Well, I know enough to get you outta these bonds. Now hold still; I don't wanna cut you open know, y'hear?”
“You best not. Or you'll be hearin' from my daddy when I git back home...”

Before she even knew it, the ropes were completely cut loose, and both Allen and Billy begin hoisting her up to her feet, now revealing the rather fancy summer dress she was wearing. Only when she was back on her own toes did she swat their hands away.
“Gee, what gentlemen y'all are,” Ainsley mumbled. “Almost runnin' me over flat an' nearly cuttin' me...”
“Dun worry missus, we're all friends here,” Allen responded. “Now... what were y'all doin' jumpin' onto railroad tracks this evenin'?”
“Well, you see... I scarce remember that.”
“Don't you be lyin' to me, missus. We can darn well leave you here with all yer lonesome.”
“Really, I don't remember a darn thing.”
“You certain, ma'am?”
“Well... there's only one thing I can faintly recall...”
“Okay... what is it?”
At this response, Ainsley makes a knocking motion at her temple, imitating a hard strike.
“Wham. Out like a candlestick in a twister,” Ainsley added. “The next thing I know, I'm lyin' mummified on these here tracks an' unable to move.”
“So this was some killer's set-up,” Billy suggested. “Ain't seen these much back east, I reckon.”
“Naw, killers don't roam 'round these parts,” Allen corrected. “These are bandits an' outlaws. Now, ma'am, would you kindly turn 'round fer me? I gotta see somethin'.”
“See somethin'?! What are you implyin'-”
“Oh, don't worry. I'm only takin' a look.”

Ainsley reluctantly turns her back to Allen, who then lifts her hair to look around her neck. Sure enough, there was something there. In her case, a branding of sorts. It was hard for him to make out, but it seemed like a skull, a top-hat, and...

Two crossed guns. This was his mark.

“Missus...” Allen warily asked. “I best reckon you oughta hop onto the train. Right now.”
“W-what?” Ainsley nervously replied. “Wh-hat are y-you implyin'?”
“Just don't be thinkin' 'bout it. At least 'til we get y'all back home. You live close by, right?”
“I-i reckon so. W-why?”
“Just... we have to get goin'. Now.”
At that remark, with a look from Allen, Billy holds the young Ainsley by the hand and escorts her to the front passenger car, where a confused conductor is seen peering out of the door.
“Don't you worry none, missus,” Billy kept telling her. “Don't you worry none...”

Hopping back onto the train himself, Allen shifts the brake and loads more coals into the engine, getting the Wichita-Eureka Line 107 back up to full trot, chugga-lugga. With a flash of steam and a bellowing cry, beeyoo, the mechanical steed grinds into the night, now on a mission to not only get to the next stop, but to hightail on out of there.

Provided that they're fast enough.

((Trust me, the next part is gonna be MUCH longer.))

Merc
06-19-2011, 05:29 AM
*Claps*

Well done, well done. Great way to start things off, i'm quite hooked already.

Also, Why do i get the feeling i'll be some kind of crazed villain type in this story?

craigmond
06-19-2011, 03:17 PM
Great Part one. I love it, where do you come in?

>er.
06-19-2011, 10:55 PM
wait, the storyteller (outlawjack himself) is the villian? even if it's not much of a suprise considering his sackperson's look- it's still kinda funny to see someone writing a story with "hismelf" being the evil villian

Outlaw-Jack
06-19-2011, 11:06 PM
Great Part one. I love it, where do you come in?

Oh, don't you worry none. Y'all will see me soon enough.


wait, the storyteller (outlawjack himself) is the villian? even if it's not much of a suprise considering his sackperson's look- it's still kinda funny to see someone writing a story with "hismelf" being the evil villian

... Did I ever say that Jack was the narrator? That'd be outright atrocious.

>er.
06-20-2011, 10:07 AM
well not really as the narrator, just the fact that it's "outlawjack" who writes the story. i tend to call the writer storyteller..
uh, anyway the story is great so far! :p

Outlaw-Jack
07-01-2011, 03:31 AM
Sorry this is taking so long. I got a little bit of summer school and I've been doing a thousand other things. That, and the next part is much longer than the first. I'll see to have it up soon.

Outlaw-Jack
07-01-2011, 05:09 AM
((Sorry for the double-post; chunk is quite big.))

Alrighty! Next part is up:

Meet N' Greet

Two weeks have passed, and all seems fine on the Wichita-Eureka Line 107. Much hasn't happened yet to Allen and Billy, though Ainsley's daddy was quite a handful, why with his daughter running off with random strangers and getting tied to railways and what-not. But that was the past; today, these proud railroad men get the privilege to transport passenger cars full of new hopefuls waiting for their chance to make it in the Wild West.

“You scarce reckon that any of them city folk know how to fire a gun?” Billy asked, while shoveling in coal.
“Y'all never know 'til we see it ourselves,” Allen replied, keeping his hands steady on the levers. “Why, many of them gunslingers come from the cities.”
“Oh REALLY? Name one.”
“Billy the Kid.”
“... really? Where?”
“New York City. Can scarce believe it myself.”
“Well then, that put's that there question to rest, then.”
Most of these hopefuls are gonna be dropped off in San Francisco, where many will shy away into the city slums and boroughs. A lucky few will hitch a ride on the stagecoaches heading up north or down south, where then they'll get themselves either situated with the thick, mountainous forests of Oregon and Washington or the parched, expansive deserts of the Southwest. But some others, at least one, will get off much earlier...

“Big... Oak... Flatt. What kind of name is THAT?”
“Hey!! I got an uncle that lives there, yah cod-sucker!!”
“Geez Louise!! Sorry I asked!”
James Warren Barrett is sort of the new guy out of the bunch, all slicked up in a casual suit jacket and corduroy vest. A silver chain dangled from his pocket, as though teasing the poorer, dirtier denizens around them. His dark green bow tie popped out from under his white collar, and his pants were so permed and pressed that it seemed as though the slightest twitch would cause major damage. Had it not been for the hand-me-down cowboy boots his daddy gave him before leaving his home in Pittsburgh, it would've seemed as though a fish was being tossed into a furnace.

“Well, either way, it's gotta be better than the smoggy, ol' East,” James remarked, puffing a breath of air as he laid down his paper. “And I bet yah that I'll make it BIG out here. These rural folk... why, they ain't ever seen a city slicker before. They haven't got my smarts, OR my prowess...”
At this statement, he rises up from his seat.
“So bring it on, Wild West! I'm ready!”
“Keep them testimonials to yerself, moron!!”
“Yeah, this ain't the White House, kid!!”
“Doh... sorry!”

Now the town of Big Oak Flatt was not one of them dinky, toss-away tent cities that the railroad companies laid out for workers. With the construction of town hall, the post office and the courthouse personally funded by the infamous railroad tycoon Ryan Thompson McDouglas (rtm223), the little stagecoach stop transformed from it's humble beginnings to a busy, bustling township, with farmers bringing in fresh produce for sale and exotic merchants selling their wares every day. People of all types come through Big Oak. Your hopefuls, your doubtfuls, the rich, the poor, industrialists, cattle drivers, miners, gamblers, bootleggers, cheaters, Mexicans, Italians, Irish, Chinese, Baptists, Methodists, Mormons and even Jewish folk. If you could name it, they were here. Even those few outlaws and bandits who try storming through once in a while.
The old Wichita-Eureka Line 107 skidded and whined and slid to a stop, hitching itself at the station platform. The doors to the passenger cars swung wide open, as few folk trickled out of their cozy compartments. James hopped down to the dry, wooden platform below, with a suitcase in one hand and a sack slung over his shoulder.

“Hmm... I guess it ain't so dinky after all,” James spoke, rather impressed by the station's flashy appearance. The outside walls of the small station were whitewashed pristine, almost fresh had it not been for their bone-dryness. The wooden shingles on the roof almost shone in the sunlight, the scales of a warm brown covering the station's head. The wooden floor panels, though a little dusty since nothing's ever completely clean out in the country, had practically no noticeable debris or trash laying about, give or take the single strand of straw that might be making a stop just to see the bareness. The outside posts were also relatively clean, sporting no nails. Only a trained eye could see the tiny indents inside the dark wood, not even visible from a foot's distance. Inside, the gas-powered lamps were extinguished and on break, letting the cleaned windows bring in the wonderfully beautiful day. The hard oak benches gleamed with their fresh coatings of white and their crimson arm rests. Even the bars separating the cheeky, old ticket men had a quality to them; not a single pinch of rush could be seen on the bold, cast-iron cages. Had it not been for the many bodies passing through, one would think that it was private domain.

Satisfied with his settings, James carried on through the station and onto the wooden sidewalks of Winch Avenue. Since the town's layout was completely designed by Ryan and his trusted architects, he had the privilege of naming every street. Being the mechanically-obsessed Swedish descendant he was, every boulevard, road, street and outlying trails was named after a logical device. Winch Avenue was the major road through Big Oak Flatt, with the train station, trading post, general store, sheriff's office and High Nine Saloon all residing on that street alone, not to mention the carts from merchants passing by and plenty of horses and mules. From there, the short stretches of Piston Street and String Road branch off from the corner of the High Nine and the end of Winch, where the rest of Big Oak's notable businesses and trades lie. Piston, lying at the end of Winch, forms a T with the bigger road and serves as the more manual side of Big Oak, with the blacksmith, carpenter, corrals and craftsmen residing on the main stretch. String, on the other hand, which starts off at the corner of the High Nine Saloon, serves as the artistic and journalism hub, with many artists, musicians, writers and the printing offices of the frontier journalism giant Old Oak Inquirer residing on the initial stretch from the High Nine, before turning off around a gun shop and continuing on to stop at Piston, forming a square “block”, as the town's founding father would put it. And it was at this corner of String and Winch, among the hubbub and gobbledegook of the busy stretch, that the young reporter Chloe Anne Sullivan (Sackgirlsrule) was seen sitting, scouring her thoughts yet again for an interesting story to meet her quota for the day.

“Geez, ain't nothin' much happenin' today,” Chloe sighed, head rested in hand. “An' if I ain't got no story fer the bossman today, I'll dun git myself fired...”
Chloe was quite a sweetie, why with her cleaned boots shuffling around under her black skirt and her blonde hair flowing down around her shoulders. Her white blouse riffled in the western breeze, as the pencil in her hand swiveled around in the air above her journal, as though waiting to shoot down and scribble some notes in. Like the Sonora Desert that started a little down south, today's daily catch of stories and media was dry and barren, crackling with distaste at the young journalist's-

“'EY!! What's the big idea?!”
“Scram, 'city boy'!! Before I bury y'all six feet under!!”
It seems as though James has gotten himself into a tangle with the local drunk, Alex Douglas (Alex). Perfect timing for the journalist in need.

James is sent tumbling to the ground, rolling head-over-heels and dropping his suitcase, spilling out all of its contents. The drunken brute stumble over to his suitcase and begins kicking and thrashing James' belongings around in the middle of Winch Ave. Had it not been for his lazy eyes and reddened cheeks, one would've thought that Alex was infested with rabies.

“Knock it off!!” James shouted, pushing himself back up and running toward Alex. James attempts to deck Alex, but the drunk easily grabs the boy's fist in his gorilla-like paw and returns one of his own, sending James sprawling again.
“HAH!! Stupid boy,” Alex belched. “This ain't no place fer yellerbellies like you...”
At this point, Chloe has had enough of this nonsense, as she herself gets up and begins walking over to Alex, now drawing in attention from curious passer-by. Alex, though either pleased or wily is uncertain, marches over to James and stomps him promptly in the back. James cringes like a bug underneath the spurred boot, the metal points digging into his lower back and causing cries of pain.

“How's THAT?! HUH?!!” Alex roared, receiving no response. He stomps him again. “HAH!! Eatin' dirt like the worm y'all are...”
“Taste this, then!” Chloe exclaimed, whipping Alex around her way. The confused drunk gets a clean punch right in-between the eyes, the young girl's blow carrying as much kick as a mule's. Alex is sent head-over-heels, flipping over himself, tumbling like a tumbleweed, kissing dirt and unceremoniously skidding to a halt on his back, only able to make out a drunken groan before hitting the hay. As suddenly as it started, this beatdown-turned-2-on-1 comes to an end, with James and Chloe 1, drunken-person-now-lying-pretty-on-the-road-whose-name-is-Alex 0. Satisfied, Chloe turns her attention back to James, who's pushing himself up, albeit flustered.

“You okay, partner?” Chloe asked, in the most polite way possible.
“I guess,” James replied, rather grouchy. “Of all things, I get Bigfoot over there chargin' me like a mad bull...”
Chloe looks down at the ground, scanning over James' items briefly with her eyes. Even stitching, hints of green, glimmers of shiny things, unreadable old-timey text on a newspaper... yep. This boy was fresh meat! And she could NEVER turn down this opportunity...

“Y'all are new to Big Oak, aren't yah?” Chloe finally asked. “Hence why ol' Alex over there pounced on yah a couple o' seconds ago...”
“Obviously,” James grunted, bending down to regather his stuff into his suitcase. “I reckon you folk don't take too kindly to strangers.”
“Well who the Sam hill ever said THAT!” Chloe stated, now also bending down to help James. “Alex has always been a hothead, why pickin' fights with the locals an' other clientele. It ain't helpin' much that he takes too kindly to the drink.”
“Well, that's reassuring,” James spoke. “I manage to stumble into the town drunk on my first day 'round here...”
By this point, all of James' now-dirtied items have been swept-up into his suitcase once more, causing the two to stand back up.

“Name's Chloe Anne Sullivan,” Chloe greeted, sticking out a hand. “You?”
“Uhh...” James mumbled, unsure of what to do with the informal greeting, since it wasn't common courtesy to be shaking hands with young ladies. “James. James Warren Barrett.”
James reaches out with his hand and the two allies shake, with Chloe smiling on rather pleased. With the introductions over with, the young journalist suddenly whips around James and wraps her arm around him, startling the Easterner. Then, much to her urging, the duo begin walking around, heading into the heart of Winch Avenue.
“Lemme show y'all around,” Chloe insisted, taking out her journal and pencil. “Just so y'all can git yerselves assessed with Big Oak's layout...”

nerzdadestroyer
07-03-2011, 04:40 PM
just subscribing so i remember to read part 2. i would love to be a character by the way, maybe a bounty hunter? im sure you could find a place for me possibly in ur possy or what ever.

nysudyrgh
07-06-2011, 11:30 AM
Story is awesome, I wonder when the next part is going to be ready.

craigmond
07-07-2011, 07:42 PM
Again, sweet! Your a very good story-teller you know.

Sackgirlsrule
07-08-2011, 05:28 AM
Oh I love it! Lol, I get to beat up people! xD Thank you for putting me in the story :) All of this is great! I'm hooked :p Lol, and yay! I get to be a spunky journalist :p

nysudyrgh
07-10-2011, 08:51 PM
And so ... SGR's dream came true ...
Enough joking (Nah, I'll keep joking. :p)
I wonder when the next part comes out. (Hint, Hint)

Outlaw-Jack
07-10-2011, 08:55 PM
And so ... SGR's dream came true ...
Enough joking (Nah, I'll keep joking. :p)
I wonder when the next part comes out. (Hint, Hint)

I've had summer school for the past 3 weeks, so I haven't gotten much done on the next part as of late. That, and I'm also working on something... big. So to say.

However, now that I'm free, expect the next part sometime this week.

ALEXhatena
07-19-2011, 09:48 PM
Count me in the story too if you want!

Sackgirlsrule
07-21-2011, 08:03 PM
I really just can't wait for part 2!!! :p

ALEXhatena
07-22-2011, 05:39 PM
I really just can't wait for part 2!!! :p

Shouldn't it be part 3?

nerzdadestroyer
07-22-2011, 06:41 PM
i noticed that but i didnt want to embarrass her :3

nysudyrgh
08-08-2011, 08:52 AM
Expect the next part sometime this week.

That was a month ago. :D

Outlaw-Jack
08-09-2011, 06:47 AM
That was a month ago. :D

Sorry. I've been extremely busy with (and dragged into) a million things as of late, but I hope to get at least one more part out before school catches me. So, expect something in the next week or two.

nysudyrgh
10-16-2011, 08:23 PM
Sorry. I've been extremely busy with (and dragged into) a million things as of late, but I hope to get at least one more part out before school catches me. So, expect something in the next week or two.

A few month's later ...
















:p

gdn001
10-16-2011, 08:25 PM
A few month's later ...
If it helps, none of the other threads in this section seems to get updated... :rolleyes: