open rp post

[curiously]

DROP IN PROMPTS, PICTURES, OLD THREADS, A POST OR EVEN TFLN BRING IT.
( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )

<small>( ➵ from <a href="">here</a> )</small>

Comments

[deathslinger]

[ warm blood splatters across Caleb's face as the Redeemer's bayonet drops Ace to the ground, the man crumpling with a satisfying scream. Not pausing to wipe it away, he laughs and reloads his speargun, then looks down at his quarry.

However much he dislikes seeing the trial grounds take on Glenvale's appearance—particularly the way the false sunlight outlines all the more starkly the faces of the corpses scattered and hung about, the faces of his men who perished in the Glenvale outside the fog, now no more than props for the Entity's vicious games—it's at least a place he knows like the back of his hand. All the sight lines down which each shot can fly true to its target, all the corners around which he can catch survivors unawares. Yet even someone unfamiliar with it has to know that to run out into its edges is to sign their own death warrant, what with nothing out there for cover but cacti, bushes, and a measly handful of half-built walls.

But sometimes, well—there's just no teaching fools. Caleb smirks. ]

You know, Visconti—out of all those at the campfire, I wouldn't have expected you to go and waste a lady's gift like this.

[ the cheeky bastard just grins back through a mouthful of blood. "Me? No—never! In fact, I've already paid it back by getting you away from her," he says, to which Caleb snorts. ]

I'm sure she's praisin' your name right now. [ he knows where Zarina is. But he chose to pass by the saloon even as her breaths of stifled pain reached him. Sounds that pulled at his heart as much as her crying—and for what? Taking a spear meant for a shameless flirt who only manages to escape his trials by the skin of his teeth more often than not—if he escapes at all? ] But if you want my attention so much, then I'll gladly oblige you.

[ leg brace creaking, he bends down, grabs Ace by the waist of his pants, and hoists him onto his shoulder. But he's barely straightened up when something stabs into his back, driving out a grunt and forcing him to let go. Sharper than that sting, though—is Ace cheerfully shouting "Looking forward to it, cowboy!" as he drops, light as a cat, onto his feet and runs off towards the windmill.

Caleb mutters a curse through clenched jaws. Reaches behind him, yanks out whatever the thing is, and flings it down, heedless of the tearing pain as it rips through leather and flesh alike. Before the blood dripping off the jagged piece of metal can even start soaking into the dusty red dirt, he's already off in pursuit, his grip on the Redeemer white-knuckled with fury. Which only tightens at the sound of a second generator roaring to life in the distance.

Always got something up his sleeve, that one. Which Caleb should've expected—but that's the last time his damned luck will save him. ]