Author Topic: Spinning Sightlines: A Bizarre Adventure  (Read 23 times)

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Spinning Sightlines: A Bizarre Adventure
« on: August 06, 2019, 05:25:47 am »

To Summarize a Historical Background

   The ‘Automobile’ that was invented by Henry Ford in 1903 and were quickly purchased by the wealthy and even the government. Over 5,000 automobiles were purchased and in use within the next few years.

   Soon after the ‘American Civil War’ and ‘The Steel Ball Run’ and the mysterious death of the 23rd president of the United States ‘Funny Valentine’. There was a crackdown on american outlaws within the ‘American Frontier’.

   The ‘Pinkerton National Detective Agency’ became a national name even in the ‘American Frontier’. This hinted at the end of the american frontier, as they hired and gave work to thousands of american and foreign bounty hunters.

   There was a large influx of Neapolitan immigrants after the ‘Kingdom of Naples’ had a revolution in and the monarchy was ousted, being absorbed into the Republic of Italy. Any former members of the royal family came to America for work.

Puledro Clydesdale

   A middle aged bounty hunter read through a ‘contract’, a fountain pen in hand. He was dressed in a purple hardee hat with brightly colored feathers, a dark red paisley vest with two rows of golden buttons like an old civil war coat, dark red jeans, black cowboy boots with Damascus steel toes, and his gunbelt with various pre-loaded cylinders, his ‘Pietta Model 1851’, and a strange ‘Steel Ball’ behind his shooting iron.

   He skimmed through the contract, before looking up at the ‘Pinkerton Agent’ in front of him. The bounty hunter spoke up with a raspy voice, “So, if I’m gettin’ this right… I get five guaranteed bounties. But they may change if, say, I get a bounty for an entire gang rather than an individual?”

   The agent nodded, “Yess’m, that’s right, sir. An, if you’ll look at the fine print, you y’gatta take the ones we give ya’. No bein’ fussy.”

   The bounty hunter rubbed his temples at that, “Alright, fine… So I sign…” He trailed off as he signed the bottom of the contract.
“Puledro Clydesdale”

   The agent grimaced at Puledro’s handwriting, “‘Puledro’? Are yeh Italian?” He asked, raising a brow. Clydesdale answered simply with a, “Naw, my pa’s from Naples. Was his daddy’s name, ah think.”
   The Pinkerton gave a nod as he looked over the document, “Alrigh’, alrigh’... Everything looks good. Yer good t’go. You’ll have yer first bounty t’morrow, git plenty of rest.” He explained before Clydesdale got up to leave. As he stepped out of the appropriated sheriff’s office, heading back to the town of ‘Leprett’s’ Saloon and Hotel. A youngster, can’t be much older than 19 bumped into him. “Ah- Sorry Mister, didn’t see ya’ there. Say-”

   He pointed at the Damascus steel ball in it’s own holster behind his pistol. “What’s that steel ball on your belt?” The young man continued, going to touch it. Clydesdale simply set his hand on the young man’s, and he fell to his knees. Puledro pried open the youngster’s other hand, “What d’ya think you were doin’ with this?” He asked, holding up a ten dollar coin.

   The young man stuttered, “U-uhh…” Clydesdale simply shook his head, “Law man! C’mere! This lil’ shit’s a pickpocket!” He shouted, as a deputy came by to drag him away. The young man sputtered and wheezed, “Hah… Hah… Hah…”    

   “Come on…” The deputy grumbled, but he felt his pistol clear leather. The young man let out a shout, “You’re dead!” He exclaimed as the deputy pointed the pistol to the sky,

   “Dammit! He got my gun!” The deputy hollered as the young man cackled.

   “You’d be dead if I felt like it! You didn’t catch me when I took the ten dollars! I’m faster than you!” He ranted, trying to get a rise out of him.

   Puledro gave a grumble, stepping out into the street. “If you’re really done talkin’. Give him the gun back, lawman.” The deputy let out a little, “Eh?” and there was a long silence afterwards. “I’m not gonna press any charges, I’ll forget about it. Lettim go. An’ give ‘em the gun.”

   The deputy shrugged and tossed the gun to the young punk’s feet, as Clydesdale glared at him. “Pick it up.” The youngster stared at him, sweating. “But… If you do, that’ll be th’sign.”

   He spat into the dirt, “That you’re not gonna be any more than a pissant.” He antagonized. The thug glared at him as a small crowd formed, a ‘Blind Vagabond’ stepping through the crown. “What's all that noise?” he said, tapping ahead with his cane. “A duel?” He wondered, milky white eyes looking ahead towards the two.

   There was a long pause, as Clydesdale unbuckled the pistol from it’s holster, staring him down. The pickpocket spoke it, “I-it was just a joke… Y-your face is scaring me. I’m just a pick pocket…! H-have a good’n…” He stuttered, holding his hands up. The sheriff stepped up, “What in th’hell are you two doin’?” He asked, before the pickpocket picked up the pistol.


   Puledro cleared leather, sending a steel slug to the man’s shoulder. The flesh around the wound began to twist and the bones in the shoulder began to crack. The pickpocket began to let out a scream, “A-AAAAHH…!” The cracking intensified as the smaller steel ball dug its way into his flesh. “AAAAAAAAAAA!!!” He screeched, before Clydesdale held up a hand to send the small, albeit deformed steel slug back to his hand. “Yer jus’ a kid, put down the gun and go to the clinic. The flesh continued to twist around the wound, as he continued to let out little shouts of agony before it flared up again. “NOOOOOO!”

   Clydesdale let out a hmmph before walking away, “B’fore noon.” The young man shot a look of fury at him, “YOU BASTAAAARD!” He screamed, pointing the gun at him. The limb let out a loud snap as it turn grotesquely back towards him, just as he pulled the trigger.

   The pick pocket laid dead in the street, as the crowd began to let out a shout of horror. “Sheriff! We should-” The deputy said, pointing towards Puledro. “Naw, Jus’ a duel. No laws were technically broken. Jus’- Lettim’ go.”

   Two witnesses were discussing the duel, “What’d he do?”
“He shot ‘im in the arm, then it- Richocheted back to ‘im?” He answered, equally confused.
   The blind vagabond let out a ‘huh?’, as he walked towards Puledro, “Uh, sir! Can I- See your gun for a moment?” He asked, touching Clydesdale’s pistol. “Wait! Don’t touch them! They’re still spinning!”

   And then, just for a moment, the milky whiteness of the man’s eyes went away. “H-huh? I-... I can see?” He said, dumbfounded.

To Be Continued

« Last Edit: August 14, 2019, 01:59:04 pm by Wheel-Son »
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Re: Spinning Sightlines: A Bizarre Adventure
« Reply #1 on: August 08, 2019, 07:42:59 am »
Mashad Clearwater

   ‘This ‘story’ is how I began to see, not in the literal sense however. But in a spiritual sense, a sense I haven’t tried in a long time. My name is Mashad Clearwater, and after meeting that man, ‘Puledro Clydesdale’. Who was full of mysteries, beginning to end.’

   ‘When I look back, why was I in Leprett? This religious little ranch town. Did I just happen upon here randomly?’

   ‘Or was I drawn here? Was I destined to meet this gunslinger? This Bounty Hunter?’

   ‘It was rumored that this little town had the most beautiful church in the American Frontier. Not that I could see it very well, of course.’

   ‘I grew up as a pastor’s son, and I thought I was destined to follow in his footsteps. When I was four, I already could read the bible front to back. My father was beyond proud, he called me his ‘Little Parrot’.’

   ‘In my late teens I was diagnosed with ‘Glaucoma’. And my eyesight was going. It hasn’t completely left me yet, but it’s like looking through a straw.’

   ‘A few years back I told my father I was leaving, becoming a Missionary. That was a lie, but… I boarded a train in the black of night. Couldn’t see anything strange about it.’

   ‘But it ultimately caused me to lose most of my eyesight. But it gave me a ‘strange ability’, And a mark that reads, “Luna malum ortu.”’

   ‘“Bad moon rising”’

   And then, just for a moment, the milky whiteness of Mashad’s eyes went away. “H-huh? I-... I can see?” He said, dumbfounded. Clydesdale looked him in the eye as he walked away, and the milky-whiteness returned.

‘What just happened? It couldn’t… It’s not possible…’

‘But the disease… Did that really happen?’

‘I touched it… that man’s revolver… My eyes…’

   Mashad’s thoughts ran wild, “W… Wait! You! How did that- How could I see again?!” He shoved past the crowd, “Excuse me, let me through! Dammit move!” He hollered, one of the citizens gave the blind man a look. “What? What’s so-?” Mashad shoved past, “Not now- sorry! Dammit-- Wait!”

   Clydesdale rubbed his eyes, before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Christ, boy. What do you want?” he barked, as the blind man wheezed a bit. “What- How did that happen? You saw something. I could see again.” He sputtered, as the bounty hunter let out a silent curse. “Alright, listen. Lemme-” He checked through his wallet for a moment, “Dammit… I’ll treat you to a meal an’ explain it. C’mon.”

   The pair got settled with a stew that’s been cooked for far too long and a rough wood table in a corner of Leprett’s saloon. Clydesdale took out a leather bound journal, with a simple charcoal pencil. He drew a simple rectangle in the journal’s back pages.

   “So. There’s a shape called ‘The Golden Rectangle’. You prolly heard of it. It’s a rectangle that’s made to the ratio 9 to 18. It’s got several characteristics-- Let's say I make another rectangle…” 

   Clydesdale drew another rectangle, “This rectangle I just made is the same ratio, 9 by 18. Now, let’s add another line. See? Another rectangle. And then I make another, and another, and another. And so on and so forth.”

   Clydesdale continued to scribble on the journal, “When I connect the centers of all these shapes… I get a spiral that theoretically goes on infinitely.” Mashad gave him a look, as Puledro took the steel ball and set it on Mashad’s hand. He gave it a spin and the blind man’s eyes healed once again, if only for a moment. “It’s a disease, ain’t it? ‘The Spin’ can’t get rid of the disease, but…” Clydesdale looked Mashad in the eye, “Forget it.”

   Mashad gave a shocked look, “But--    Why did you explain this to me?!” He shouted, slamming his hands against the table as he stood back up. Clydesdale explained calmly, “Y’prolly could figure it out yerself, you seem smart enough.” He explained, standing up to leave the table. Mashad simply stood there, stunned as he watched him walk up the stairs to his room.

To Be Continued
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Re: Spinning Sightlines: A Bizarre Adventure
« Reply #2 on: August 14, 2019, 02:08:25 pm »
Old News, printing date-- 1879:
An Explosion Rocks California!

   A shocking turn of events; There was a meteor strike off the coast of California, just off the border of mexico! Many have travelled there due to the strange happenings, beginning a small scale gold rush! Rumors are stemming that there's also fighting for the meteor between Mexico, The United States, and a currently unknown, foriegn Third Party.


'Kalvin Kornelious King'
For robberies and raids with "Bobby Pierce" and his gang.
Last seen at Leprett, asking about the original Leprett Church. Now called "Coot's Chapel". 35 miles southeast of town.


   Clydesdale gave the bounty a once-over, "Awfully close, ain't he? Why don't you take him in ya'selves?"

   The aging man behind the desk gave a sigh, "Well, we couldn't technically prove it was him. The piece'a shit paid off the local law and we're under a strict 'employer only' under the US guv'ment."

   Clydesdale let out an unamused snort, "Right. Anything I should know?"

   "From what 'ah hear is that he's the paranoid sort. Expect him t'have a few other bastards wit'm." The old man responded, just as Clydesdale got up to leave. The old man sighed, "Happy huntin'."

   Soon after, Clydesdale was leading a deep auburn horse out of town. It had purple reins and saddle, with a hound’s tooth pattern sheet underneath. Slipping a foot into the stirrup, Clydesdale mounted his horse. However, someone seemed to be tailing him.



   Kalvin King stomped around the cellar of the old church as there was a half dozen men with axes chopping up the floorboards, “Gat dammit, y’all ain’t worth what I paid for! C’mon! It’s gotta be in here somewhere! Them pinkerton sumbitches are on ON MY FUCKIN’ TAIL! SO HURRY IT THE FUCK UP!” He screeched. Kalvin was a finely dressed man, in a pastel blue velvet three-piece suit and a silver particularly puffy puffed tie. He had a finely cut goatee with long, greased back hair.

   A ragged, older man’s eyes widened, “M-mistuh King?! This whatchur lookin’ fer?” He barked, holding up an object wrapped in yellowed butcher’s paper. Kalvin snatched the package from the ragged man’s grip, opening it up. Inside was a crudely crafted crucifix, made up of what looks like wrought iron, a stag’s horn forming the cross. King gave a chuckle as he ran a thumb across the rough, porous metal. “Hwueeheeeehee! Fantastic, YOU! Big man! Get this man a beer! He’s earned it!” He cackled, making a snapping point towards the largest of his workers.  “Fuck it! Everyone gets a beer!” He declared, as everyone let out a loud cheer and Kalvin passed out cash, ten dollar bills per person.
   The half dozen workers filed out of the cellar, and out of the church grounds. Most mounting on their respective horses or mules. Kalvin King kept cackling as he inspected the cross, “Hwueeheeheeeheee, Mister Pierce is f’sure gonna be happy ‘bout this…” He mumbled to himself, as he stepped out of the cellar and into the church itself. As he stepped out, he caught the eyes of Clydesdale, ‘The Golden Gunslinger.’

   “Howdy.” Clydesdale said simply, “How hard d’ya want this t’be?” He growled, a hand settled on his pistol, and the other adjusting the hardee hat on his head. Kalvin held up his hands, “Not hard at all, bounty hunter…” He said calmly, as there was a whistling of wind and displacing air.

But then, there was a loud whooshing sound. Clydesdale cleared leather, worked the hammer, and fired as soon as it got near. Kalvin’s suit grew red in his calve, as he let out a loud yelp of pain. “A-AAGH! What?! You have a ‘sta-’” He snarled, as Clydesdale gave him an equally confused look. “What did I hit?” The bounty hunter wondered aloud, unintentionally interrupting his quarry.

A grin curled on Kalvin’s lips, “You can’t see it?” He asked simply, as he began to cackle. “Cut him in fucking half! ‘Bellbottoms’!” He screeched, as the displacement of air was heading towards Clydesdale. From Kalvin’s perspective, he saw a bird-like humanoid, with a golden wattle below it’s neck with a similar pattern to King’s tie. It had blades on it’s wrists, that extend to the side made up of a metallic bone-like material.

However, Kalvin heard a faint voice and another humanoid parried [Bellbottoms]’s blow, It was a skinny humanoid with a camera for a head with a small weathervane on top, with a skeletal body made up of wrought iron and with two blades extending from it’s elbows replacing its hands. Inscribed on the head of the camera is ‘Luna malum ortu’.

‘Bad Moon Rising’.

   Kalvin’s blood ran cold, “I thought-!” He stammered, before digging around in his coat for his own pistol. “Fuck! [Bellbottoms]-! Help me!” King yelled out, as his ‘Humanoid’ recalled back and towards it’s master. Clydesdale worked the hammer again, and fired.

   If I can get my [Bellbottoms] to cut this bullet. Then I can fight- no- Maybe I should run…! Kalvin’s thoughts ran wild as his ‘Humanoid’ deflected the ‘Steel Ball’ into Kalvin’s side. He let out another yelp of pain, as the spin went through his body. “N-! N-NOOO!” King hollered, as the flesh twisted around the gushing wound.

   I can still win…! I just need to cut this bastard’s throat! Kalvin went on the offensive as Clydesdale fanned the hammer, emptying the cylinder. Three missed but planted itself into his hip, “Oh-ho-hoh!” Clydesdale chuckled, as [Bad Moon Rising] blocked [Bellbottoms]’s strike once again.

   Clydesdale smirked at the bloodied and bleeding Kalvin, “Are y’done yet?” He drawled, as he holstered his pistol. “Cuz if y’are. I think I can make it back t’town b’fore you bleed out.” Kalvin King spat out some blood, before drawing his own pistol. An ornate schofield, before he felt something inside of him move. The two bullets inside him tore out through his back, before curving back under his ribs, then through his back once more, before one made it’s home inside Kalvin’s collar bone, and the other inside his throat.

Kalvin Kornelius King, user of [Bellbottoms]
Bounty: Claimed

   Clydesdale hauled the southern gentleman’s corpse to his horse, before he heard a familiar voice. “Excuse me, sir! Are you okay?!” Mashad hollered, as Clydesdale let out a groan. “God fucking- Boy what part of I cannot help you do you not understand?” He growled as he stomped over to him.

   Mashad simply stared up at him with his milky white eyes, “If I didn’t help you we wouldn’t be talking right now!” He hollered right back. Clydesdale scowled at that, “The hell do you mean by that?” He barked at him.

   Mashad glared right back, "That ‘thing’ you shot and what was making that ‘wind’. It’s a ‘spirit’ of sorts-"

   “A ‘Stand’. Some have called it, it’s hard to explain-- I don’t get it either…” He admitted, as Clydesdale rolled his eyes. “Don’t really care, t’be fair.” He said plainly, as he mounted his horse. “I’m headin’ out, come get me after I turn this sonuva bitch in. Y’earned a cut.” He continued, settling the wrapped cross into his saddlebags as he rode back to town.

To Be Continued
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