A wide open area of flat, grassy land and rocky trenches, supposedly a wide range of ancient civilizations once lived here. Species that like wide, open areas, such as Gyrophants, Serraptors, and Sahound, thrive here, though only the agile survive. (+3 Speed)

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The Cowboy and the Goddess [Flame and I, P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 06/27/2013 8:40 PM

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The summer heat was especially sweltering during this time of the day.

Duke didn’t mind it; he was used to working in all kinds of different conditions. Granted, he normally had his armor’s built in cooling system to help him bear through the heat, but he’d been stationed at this particular outpost for nearly six months, and he’d had plenty of time to adjust. He’d foregone his armor today (it made some of the townspeople nervous, he’d found) and he was currently whittling away time in the massive military stabling area that sat just outside the outpost compound, which was, itself, stationed just outside of town.

Since his assignment here, Duke had found that he had a particular knack for dealing with animals, and the stables housed a few of the local creatures called ‘horses.’ He found them endearing, useful and great workers. His current favorite was a blue roan mare, who was aptly named ‘Blue.’ She had a sweet temperament, and since he’d been stationed there, he’d been instructed to implement a breeding program to breed horses for use in other outposts such as his. Blue had given birth to a little filly only a few days prior, and she was content in her stall, a massive fan blowing cool air across her back as she nuzzled and licked the little foal.

Duke leaned over the edge of her stall, patting her nose when she swung her head around to snuffle at his shirt. A smile quirked his lips, something that was becoming more and more rare the longer he stayed on this ‘backwater planet.’ “You keep cool and have a good day, girl,” he told her, giving her nose an extra pat as he turned and crossed the stables to another horse, a big, black gelding named Midnight. The gelding was already saddled and bridled and waiting patiently for his rider to be done with his rounds visiting and looking after ‘the brood’ as Duke had come to call them.

The ARC led the horse from his stable, grabbing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat as he did and settling it on his head, and mounted, swinging up into the saddle with the ease of someone who had grown quite accustomed to traveling this way. With a click of his tongue, the gelding was trotting off in the direction of town, hooves kicking up the dry dirt and leaving a trail of dust behind him. It was about a twenty minute ride into the small town, which boasted quite a large population for as small as it was. Duke slowed Midnight to a walk, and the two of them strolled through the streets of the town, the loud ‘clip-clop’ of Midnight’s hooves echoed by the dozens of other horse and their riders that milled about or went in and out of town.

Duke tipped his hat to a few people in greeting, as he’d learned to do only a few weeks after being stationed here, and dropped a hand to his waist to check the familiar weight of his pistol. His blaster was strapped to his other hip, but the shiny, silver Colt pistol that he’d been presented by the leader of the small town (mostly in thanks for bringing some semblance of order to it with his presence alone) felt comfortable and was as easy to use as his other weapons. Stopping Midnight just outside of a familiar saloon, Duke slid from his saddle, looping the reins loosely around the hitching post outside.

He visited this place often; not for the drinks, as he and alcohol did not go well together, but for the gossip and the information. People’s tongues tended to be a lot looser when they were plied with steady streams of whiskey. Stepping through the swinging door, Duke gazed around at the familiar faces, many of whom smiled or waved lazily in greeting as he stepped in and made his way to the bar. “Afternoon, Moe,” Duke drawled, leaning against the counter with one arm.

The old bartender, named Moe, had a heart as big as his belly and a smile as wide as his moustache. He turned with a jovial grin, cleaning one of his glasses as he eyed Duke carefully. “Afternoon,” he greeted in return. “The usual?” At Duke’s nod, his smile widened. “You know, one of these days yer gonna have to try my world famous whiskey.” He set a glass of water on the counter, which Duke took gratefully, smiling wryly up at the bartender.

“Sure will, Moe,” he agreed. “The day I decide I feel like waking up in a gutter, o‘ course.”


Last bumped by MillietheWarrior on 06/27/2013 8:40 PM.

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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