The Legend of the Deathslinger
The tale of death thus was told
A deal was struck and a soul was sold,
A dead man deals the dark lord
To have another go at life's chord.
To hunt the men who ended his journey
The monsters who slew his sweet family,
Of blood and bone was forged
The tool that would be his sword.
A gun unlike any other,
Who's shots will cause any to suffer.
7 magic bullets were made
of the dark lords soulless shade.
6 bullets that cannot miss
To deliver his foes unto deaths dark kiss,
1 bullet to serve dark lords will
To end whoever he would kill.
The new reaper of death unleashed
With hate and rage his foes shall be chased,
Like the suns fall and moons rise,
His vengeance shall reap their demise.
1 Bullet for the mind
to leave all they know behind.
1 Bullet for the body
to slay their form for eternity
1 Bullet for the life
to show them the one true strife.
1 Bullet for their blood
that shall devour them like food.
1 Bullet for the Soul
to swiftly bring them an end most foul.
1 Bullet bound for the dead
naught but dust left in their stead.
1 Final Bullet for the Dark Lord,
for the lord himself to wield like his sword,
A bullet that is the will of the Lord,
whoever it strikes shall be as his word.
Death or torment one doesn't know,
Suffering and torture maybe so,
Eternal damnation is a possibility
or banishment from reality.
One knows not the plans for the Lord,
what he may will that final shot to do.
Maybe end the world itself,
or kill the gods themselves.
All we know is the Slinger,
He who wieldeth the gun.
'Tis he who shall pulleth the trigger,
With the deadliness of the tiger.
Tis he the legendary Deathslinger,
the shooter of the apocalypse.
And should the prophecy be true,
naught but death shall forever ensue.
The minstrel sang the legend well. Those gathered mesmerized by his tale. Or maybe the patrons of the tavern were too intoxicated to know a good tale. It mattered little. The tavern was full on this particular night. The village had little else to do, with the raging sandstorm outside. The small little desert village was tucked away from most major population centers, and was almost a checkpoint on the border between the continents of Europa and Asaii. Outsiders seldom stop in the village, and use it mainly for a pitstop on their travels, but with the desert sandstorm raging, no idiot would be foolish enough to stay outside for very long let alone travel. The storming winds of sand caused the wooden beams and walls to creak under the pressure, but this particular tavern has withstood worst in the past, so the patrons paid it no mind.
It was not long before an unusual sound caught their attention. The sound of an engine emerging from the storm. The sound of the throttle ripping through the night until it stopped in front of the tavern. All eyes were on the door, as the sounds of booted footfalls on the balcony outside seemed to drown out the storm. A click is heard, and the door opens, revealing a cloaked figure, who's right arm was clad in black and red armor, with a wide brimmed cowboy hat atop his head. The man wore goggles and a scarf was pulled up over his face to keep the sand out. All eyes were on this man as he strode up to the bar, and sat down. The barkeeper broke the silence that had befallen the tavern.
"What can i get for you stranger? We haven't had any traders come through in the last week because of the storms, so we don't have much in the fancy category, but you're welcome to try our local brews and cuisine." The barkeep held out a menu for the stranger to look at before turning to the patrons who watched this stranger like hawks. "What are you? Vultures waiting for an animal to die in the desert?! Go back to your drinks you bloody ijits! Show some manners!" The patrons paused for a moment, hesitant, until the minstrel and his companions took up their instruments and played another tune, to which the patrons returned to their banter and business, livening the place up again.
The stranger folded up the menu and returned it to the barkeep.
"I'll try some of that Spiced Potatoes and Grilled Steak. And just give me whatever you guys have on tap tonight, it's too damn dusty outside for me to be picky at this point."
"You're not wrong." The barkeep passed the order onto the kitchen. "I don't mean to sound invasive, but what are you doing out here of all places, and in a sandstorm of all times?"
"Well, the why's and the how's are both a VERY long story. But not to bore you with the details, but I'm a bounty hunter of sorts." The man reaches into his coat and withdraws a small pocket book and from within the book retrieves 6 photos. the photos depict 4 men and 2 women. "Have you seen any of these people before?"
"I recognize this one here," the barkeep points to the photo of the man with a scar running down the right side of his face. "He stopped by here a few weeks ago. Never said where he was going, but he took off to the east. Based on his cargo, I would say he was bound for a trade center, likely somewhere around Chellit, which is a 2 to 3 day ride from here to the east." The barkeep tugs at his beard. "Say, I've never seen any wanted notices for any of these folks. Might i ask you what they are guilty for?"
"Well, you wouldn't likely believe me if I told you. It is a little difficult to believe," the stranger chuckled.
"Well, if nothing else, it could make a could laugh on such a dreary night," the barkeep grabs the prepared meal from the kitchen and pours a glass of ale from the tap and puts it in front of the stranger.
"These men and women are guilty of manslaughter and murder."
"Who did they kill? Because normally we'd have heard of this by now."
"These men and women are guilty of the murder of one man, one woman, and 2 adolescent children. They have yet to face justice for this crime they committed 13 years ago. The murder of my father, mother, and older sister." The stranger drank from his glass, as the barkeep looked him over.
"If the legends are true, and you really are a Stalker, then you'd have the mark of whichever otherworldly patron returned you to the land of the living. Who brought you back? The Lifebringer? The Guardian? The Keeper?"
"Well, it wasn't by blessing that i returned. Rather by a contra-"
The stranger is interrupted by a ruckus on the other side of the tavern where a shady character was harassing the minstrel. It wasn't clear if it was due to intoxication, or out of malice, but it was very clear that the ruffian was attempting to mug the minstrel.
The barkeep shouted across the room, "DARREL! SIT YOUR ASS DOWN! I will not hesitate to call the town guard on you again, and you know full well that with it being your 4th criminal offence, you'll be off to the gallows!"
At this point, Darrel, and a group of his associates stand up, and begin pulling out knives and guns. "Well maybe you should all shut up and give us all your money. THATS RIGHT! The Red Rogues are going to walk away rich tonight!"
The stranger perks up at the mention of the Red Rogues, and flips through the pages in his little book, until he finds the page he is looking for.
"Are you really the Red Rogues? The ones who 3 years ago robbed a trade caravan carrying relief supplies to the city of Aldrith during the drought? The same Red Rogues who stole the crown from the Netherend vaults? The Red Rogues who mercilessly slaughtered the family of one Richard Kairn?'
"The very same stranger! I'm glad to see someone is recognizing us for our notoriousness! So you know exactly what we are capable of!" Darrel boasted, his chest heaving as he laughed pridefully at his crimes.
The stranger removed his goggles and opened his right eye, which faded black with a crimson crosshair burning where the iris had been and dropped his armored arm to his side. "Then on behalf of humanity, I exercise my authority as a Stalker to remove your blight from the human race."
"And what will ONE Stalker do against two dozen men? You Stalkers wield 6-shooters gifted by your patrons. Even if you hit each bullet there'd still be 18 of us left and you would need to reload. In that time we'd have returned you to your patron god!"
"Oh really? I'd like to see you try..."
"Darrel? This guy seems pretty confident he can take us out. Not to mention that eye doesn't seem to JUST be a Mark of the Stalker. There's something about it that gives me shivers," one of the lackies pointed out.
"Shut up Sterling. 6 bullets from a 6 shooter can kill 24 men. So shut up and KILL THIS FUCKER!"
The gang began their charge towards the stranger at the bar. The stranger stood from his chair, and time almost seemed to stop. Between heartbeats, the stranger had drawn out a menacing black revolver that pulsed with glowing red runes. No sooner than the gun snapped up, the Stalkers other hand was already fanning the hammer. Each bullet struck each target in exactly the same place, directly through the center of the heart. As each bullet pierced the heart, an infernal howl could be heard for a second. The hand fanned the hammer 6 times, and the gun fired 6 times. But he did not reload, rather he continued to fan the hammer, and the gun continued to fire. Within seconds, only Darrel was left.
"How... Seventeen shots in a revolver... That's impossible! Revolvers hold 6 bullets and need reloading after each!" Darrel quivered fearfully before this gunslinger.
"This weapon is Hellgate, and my patron is the Dark Lord of the Abyss himself: Ha Des. Hellgate fires soul devouring projectiles in the form of bullets. So long as the bullet kills the target, Hellgate will devour their soul and create a new bullet in the chamber to replace the old. Should I need to reload, I need only breach the weapon to open the one way hell portal with which my weapon refills itself." The strangers arm glowed red between the cracks in the armor. "My weapon is Hell itself. Once it shoots you, your soul will be devoured, forced to eternal damnation and servitude for your sins. And with your soul, I shall bring judgment upon others who commit crimes against humanity and the world."
"What are you?!"
"Before I died, i was Argent Platinuum. But you may know me by my Stalker name: Deathslinger. Now face damnation!" One final gun shot rang out in the night
A deal was struck and a soul was sold,
A dead man deals the dark lord
To have another go at life's chord.
To hunt the men who ended his journey
The monsters who slew his sweet family,
Of blood and bone was forged
The tool that would be his sword.
A gun unlike any other,
Who's shots will cause any to suffer.
7 magic bullets were made
of the dark lords soulless shade.
6 bullets that cannot miss
To deliver his foes unto deaths dark kiss,
1 bullet to serve dark lords will
To end whoever he would kill.
The new reaper of death unleashed
With hate and rage his foes shall be chased,
Like the suns fall and moons rise,
His vengeance shall reap their demise.
1 Bullet for the mind
to leave all they know behind.
1 Bullet for the body
to slay their form for eternity
1 Bullet for the life
to show them the one true strife.
1 Bullet for their blood
that shall devour them like food.
1 Bullet for the Soul
to swiftly bring them an end most foul.
1 Bullet bound for the dead
naught but dust left in their stead.
1 Final Bullet for the Dark Lord,
for the lord himself to wield like his sword,
A bullet that is the will of the Lord,
whoever it strikes shall be as his word.
Death or torment one doesn't know,
Suffering and torture maybe so,
Eternal damnation is a possibility
or banishment from reality.
One knows not the plans for the Lord,
what he may will that final shot to do.
Maybe end the world itself,
or kill the gods themselves.
All we know is the Slinger,
He who wieldeth the gun.
'Tis he who shall pulleth the trigger,
With the deadliness of the tiger.
Tis he the legendary Deathslinger,
the shooter of the apocalypse.
And should the prophecy be true,
naught but death shall forever ensue.
The minstrel sang the legend well. Those gathered mesmerized by his tale. Or maybe the patrons of the tavern were too intoxicated to know a good tale. It mattered little. The tavern was full on this particular night. The village had little else to do, with the raging sandstorm outside. The small little desert village was tucked away from most major population centers, and was almost a checkpoint on the border between the continents of Europa and Asaii. Outsiders seldom stop in the village, and use it mainly for a pitstop on their travels, but with the desert sandstorm raging, no idiot would be foolish enough to stay outside for very long let alone travel. The storming winds of sand caused the wooden beams and walls to creak under the pressure, but this particular tavern has withstood worst in the past, so the patrons paid it no mind.
It was not long before an unusual sound caught their attention. The sound of an engine emerging from the storm. The sound of the throttle ripping through the night until it stopped in front of the tavern. All eyes were on the door, as the sounds of booted footfalls on the balcony outside seemed to drown out the storm. A click is heard, and the door opens, revealing a cloaked figure, who's right arm was clad in black and red armor, with a wide brimmed cowboy hat atop his head. The man wore goggles and a scarf was pulled up over his face to keep the sand out. All eyes were on this man as he strode up to the bar, and sat down. The barkeeper broke the silence that had befallen the tavern.
"What can i get for you stranger? We haven't had any traders come through in the last week because of the storms, so we don't have much in the fancy category, but you're welcome to try our local brews and cuisine." The barkeep held out a menu for the stranger to look at before turning to the patrons who watched this stranger like hawks. "What are you? Vultures waiting for an animal to die in the desert?! Go back to your drinks you bloody ijits! Show some manners!" The patrons paused for a moment, hesitant, until the minstrel and his companions took up their instruments and played another tune, to which the patrons returned to their banter and business, livening the place up again.
The stranger folded up the menu and returned it to the barkeep.
"I'll try some of that Spiced Potatoes and Grilled Steak. And just give me whatever you guys have on tap tonight, it's too damn dusty outside for me to be picky at this point."
"You're not wrong." The barkeep passed the order onto the kitchen. "I don't mean to sound invasive, but what are you doing out here of all places, and in a sandstorm of all times?"
"Well, the why's and the how's are both a VERY long story. But not to bore you with the details, but I'm a bounty hunter of sorts." The man reaches into his coat and withdraws a small pocket book and from within the book retrieves 6 photos. the photos depict 4 men and 2 women. "Have you seen any of these people before?"
"I recognize this one here," the barkeep points to the photo of the man with a scar running down the right side of his face. "He stopped by here a few weeks ago. Never said where he was going, but he took off to the east. Based on his cargo, I would say he was bound for a trade center, likely somewhere around Chellit, which is a 2 to 3 day ride from here to the east." The barkeep tugs at his beard. "Say, I've never seen any wanted notices for any of these folks. Might i ask you what they are guilty for?"
"Well, you wouldn't likely believe me if I told you. It is a little difficult to believe," the stranger chuckled.
"Well, if nothing else, it could make a could laugh on such a dreary night," the barkeep grabs the prepared meal from the kitchen and pours a glass of ale from the tap and puts it in front of the stranger.
"These men and women are guilty of manslaughter and murder."
"Who did they kill? Because normally we'd have heard of this by now."
"These men and women are guilty of the murder of one man, one woman, and 2 adolescent children. They have yet to face justice for this crime they committed 13 years ago. The murder of my father, mother, and older sister." The stranger drank from his glass, as the barkeep looked him over.
"If the legends are true, and you really are a Stalker, then you'd have the mark of whichever otherworldly patron returned you to the land of the living. Who brought you back? The Lifebringer? The Guardian? The Keeper?"
"Well, it wasn't by blessing that i returned. Rather by a contra-"
The stranger is interrupted by a ruckus on the other side of the tavern where a shady character was harassing the minstrel. It wasn't clear if it was due to intoxication, or out of malice, but it was very clear that the ruffian was attempting to mug the minstrel.
The barkeep shouted across the room, "DARREL! SIT YOUR ASS DOWN! I will not hesitate to call the town guard on you again, and you know full well that with it being your 4th criminal offence, you'll be off to the gallows!"
At this point, Darrel, and a group of his associates stand up, and begin pulling out knives and guns. "Well maybe you should all shut up and give us all your money. THATS RIGHT! The Red Rogues are going to walk away rich tonight!"
The stranger perks up at the mention of the Red Rogues, and flips through the pages in his little book, until he finds the page he is looking for.
"Are you really the Red Rogues? The ones who 3 years ago robbed a trade caravan carrying relief supplies to the city of Aldrith during the drought? The same Red Rogues who stole the crown from the Netherend vaults? The Red Rogues who mercilessly slaughtered the family of one Richard Kairn?'
"The very same stranger! I'm glad to see someone is recognizing us for our notoriousness! So you know exactly what we are capable of!" Darrel boasted, his chest heaving as he laughed pridefully at his crimes.
The stranger removed his goggles and opened his right eye, which faded black with a crimson crosshair burning where the iris had been and dropped his armored arm to his side. "Then on behalf of humanity, I exercise my authority as a Stalker to remove your blight from the human race."
"And what will ONE Stalker do against two dozen men? You Stalkers wield 6-shooters gifted by your patrons. Even if you hit each bullet there'd still be 18 of us left and you would need to reload. In that time we'd have returned you to your patron god!"
"Oh really? I'd like to see you try..."
"Darrel? This guy seems pretty confident he can take us out. Not to mention that eye doesn't seem to JUST be a Mark of the Stalker. There's something about it that gives me shivers," one of the lackies pointed out.
"Shut up Sterling. 6 bullets from a 6 shooter can kill 24 men. So shut up and KILL THIS FUCKER!"
The gang began their charge towards the stranger at the bar. The stranger stood from his chair, and time almost seemed to stop. Between heartbeats, the stranger had drawn out a menacing black revolver that pulsed with glowing red runes. No sooner than the gun snapped up, the Stalkers other hand was already fanning the hammer. Each bullet struck each target in exactly the same place, directly through the center of the heart. As each bullet pierced the heart, an infernal howl could be heard for a second. The hand fanned the hammer 6 times, and the gun fired 6 times. But he did not reload, rather he continued to fan the hammer, and the gun continued to fire. Within seconds, only Darrel was left.
"How... Seventeen shots in a revolver... That's impossible! Revolvers hold 6 bullets and need reloading after each!" Darrel quivered fearfully before this gunslinger.
"This weapon is Hellgate, and my patron is the Dark Lord of the Abyss himself: Ha Des. Hellgate fires soul devouring projectiles in the form of bullets. So long as the bullet kills the target, Hellgate will devour their soul and create a new bullet in the chamber to replace the old. Should I need to reload, I need only breach the weapon to open the one way hell portal with which my weapon refills itself." The strangers arm glowed red between the cracks in the armor. "My weapon is Hell itself. Once it shoots you, your soul will be devoured, forced to eternal damnation and servitude for your sins. And with your soul, I shall bring judgment upon others who commit crimes against humanity and the world."
"What are you?!"
"Before I died, i was Argent Platinuum. But you may know me by my Stalker name: Deathslinger. Now face damnation!" One final gun shot rang out in the night
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