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Col. Tartleton
24-12-2010, 14:28
He dismounted his steed. The massive black motorbike had more in common with a tank than civilian transport. A thick layering of ceramite and a pair of massive bolters was enough to ensure that. The side was marked by a simple cross in deep red lacquer. Leather saddlebags and holsters were loaded to the brim with all manner of weapons and equipment.

The streets were empty. The people had either upped and left like scared dogs or were hiding like cockroaches in their houses. Cowards.

He walked slowly down the main street his eyes sweeping the windows and rooftops. He wasn't afraid of them. He very much doubted anyone was armed or stupid enough to try and kill him but old habits died hard. He continued walking noting the occasional paleface of a scared old man or curious child that peered from the windows.

He stopped in front of a building labeled in black Saloon. He threw the doors open and walked in. He had to stoop under the doorway. He walked up to the bar and began hammering it with his open palm leaving imprints in the wood where his armored gauntlets left their signature.

"Barkeep!" he roared over his vox. "Barkeep!"

After a few seconds a shaking mustached man emerged from underneath the bar.

"I'm s-s-sorry s-sir. How can I h-help you?" asked the terrified barkeep.

"I'd like you to speak like a damn human being and pour me a damn whiskey."

"Y-yes, r-right away sir."

"Like a human being." said the man in black.

"Sorry sir." he poured the black clad giant a whiskey. "I've never seen a Starman before is all."

"What exactly does that mean?" asked the man in black.

"I'm scared sir." he said feebly.

"You needn't be afraid. I serve the Lord. If you serve the Lord you're my friend. Do you serve the Lord?" asked the man in black.

"I try sir." said the barkeep.

"A wise answer friend. You have nothing to fear from me. Never mind the glass, I'll take the bottle."

When the townsfolk concluded the lack of gunshots or screams from the saloon meant it was safe, the most audacious ranchers' sons made their way to the bar. A chance to talk to a Starman was worth the risk. This was the biggest day of their lives and they weren't about to hide in their houses like a bunch of old women.

"What brings you to town sir?" asked a boy who had yet to receive his endowment of whiskers.

"I'm here to kill a man." replied the man in black matter of factly.

"Oh... might I ask who?" said the youth.

"You might ask. I might tell." replied the man in black.

"Will you tell then sir?" asked a second boy.

"None of you unless you change my mind." he said.

He reached for his helmet suddenly and every untrained hand in the room reached for their guns.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to take your guns to town?" asked the black clad giant. He removed his helmet with a click and hiss. "Dangerous thing carrying a gun if you don't know how to use it."

He drained the bottle in a single gulp much to the horror of every man assembled. Every self proclaimed man there nearly died at the emasculation. He stood up to his full height and flung open the massive duster which he wore over his armor. His fingers instinctively found the holster on his hip and he gripped the enormous pistol. He drew it in a flash and brought its lethal muzzle to the ceiling.

The bolt pistol was an ugly brick like weapon. What it lacked in aesthetics it made up for in function.

"This here's an .88 Special Issue MKIII, modified for a larger shell size and capacity, the shells are armor piercing Adamant Penetrators, the charge is a Thermonuclear Deuterium Warhead coated in highly toxic Cobalt-Sixty, designed to utterly kill an Astartes dead. Undoubtedly the most powerful handgun on this sad little ball of dust and brine you call a world, and there won't be anything resembling a body for a funeral."

Everyone sat down. They didn't know what an "Adamant Penetrator" was or what "Thermonuclear Deuterium Warhead coated in highly toxic Cobalt-Sixty" meant. But it scared the **** right out of them all the same.

The man in black put his gun back in the holster. "Excuse me gentlemen, I have a man to kill."

Exitas-Acta-Probat
24-12-2010, 21:35
oh dear lord, i want to hear more this! :D

Col. Tartleton
25-12-2010, 00:44
One of the youths found some courage and chased him out of the saloon as the black armored giant strode towards the massive motorbike.

"Sir I want to come with you!" he shouted. "I done grown up listenin' to tales of the Starmen coming to pick the best gunfighters in the world to join them in heaven fighting the devil! Now I don't know if it's true or not but I'll be damned if I let you walk away like this!"

"You're too old." said the giant.

"I don't care how old I am I'm coming with you whether you like it or not." he said in exasperation.

The giant hocked a pitch black projectile right into his face. The boy fell to his knees in agony.

"That's acid boy. Be grateful I have blinded you. I have saved your life. Following me would get you killed. One day perhaps you'll thank me. Perhaps you never will. But I gave you that choice."

"What the hell are you!" cried the boy in agony.

"I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." said the man in black.

"The Pale Rider..." whispered the boy. "Look upon me and despair for I am the Angel of Death. I am the steely resolve of the knife that cuts the throats of newborns. I am the icy embrace of sailors lost at sea. I am the fetid scent of poison on the breath of murder victims, I am the tears of widows, I am the sudden breeze in the room of a dying man. I am the righteous hand of the Lord and with me he shall smite the blasphemers."

The motorbike roared into life and the Pale Rider road off into the horizon. The townsfolk rushed out to him and when they gathered close they saw the burns of the poison. They were taken by fear and saw it as a dread omen. A stigma upon them all. The thrice damned Eye of Horus...

They patched the boy up as best they could. When they had finished they wrapped a cloth about his eyes and provisioned him then sent him out of town to die in the wilderness. These were superstitious people and they wanted nothing to do with the sort of bad medicine the boy was possessed of.

Ironically the boy was possessed of good luck and managed to be picked up by a caravan. Of course he lied and said he'd been burned with fire by some deranged booze crazed mountain men, but they bought it and brought him with them to another town. There he became a piano player and married a beautiful harlot (not that it mattered to a blind piano player) who took pity on him and enjoyed his music and what money he earned for them. He had a few kids and many years later their youngest boy was recruited by the Starmen. But that's a story for a different day.

That's not the end BTW. The Blind man is not "The Man With Dead Eyes."