Nothing is Stable in Stableton - Western Furry

[Brae]

This RP is public and open to new members.

Setting: Fictional Western
Theme: Furry
Rules: Be true to the fictional time period and use literary tools and grammar.

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It was an afternoon of drizzling rain that fell on the prairie. The quiet churning of thunder in the sky was nearly as constant with turning steel wheels on the polished rails of the Lionel. So named after the founder of Stableton, Governor Ulysses Lionel. For his strength and endurance against the plains people and tribes of savage Nagajewa, the train represents a new advancement for the township.

The train hurdled forward and as passengers used the over-head shelves to help them cross the young belles drew in their skirts and tails and smiled when the gentlemen tipped their hats and flicked their ears. The men had holstered guns on their belts, but it wasn't strange to see in such troubled times.

The times were troubled. With attacks growing frequent by the tribes of the plains and caravans being attacked on the high ways, progress would have to be dictated by the bullet. This far away from civilization a dedicated policing force had yet to become a symbol of justice. What remains is a law of the land: an understated efficiency of the gun (Steal a horse, you get shot. Touch a man's wife, you get shot. Look at someone funny, you get shot.) And if you think the police handle it differently, you can expect a man to be locked up for less and hung for anything else - in their opinion, having a man gunned down saves them the paper work.

You see, paperwork only seldom reaches its mark. With the bandits and savages, or even the somewhat friendly government across the border, it is difficult to be sure that the paperwork ever gets to the right hands. Missing people, stolen property, murders become impossible to become investigated and the Marshals only began to get involved with the more significant cases. So, good luck finding your mule, or wife, or whatever was taken from you.

You may be lucky to find access to the new invention of the telephone or be able to send a secure line through a telegraph, it is the one form of communication that the greedy haven't found a way to steal. With industry growing close with the advancement of early motored vehicles and mining technology, it is surprising a more efficient way to spread peace has yet to be found.

That's why in the opinions of many of the denizens of Dustin; nothing quite beats the security of a loaded barrel. That's why those gentleman who crossed the train earlier won't have much difficulty robbing it in just a few moments.

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September 17 2:37 PM

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[TyrKiyote]

His head bobbed as the clatter of the railroad hammered in his bones. The sound was deafening, but the monotony of its pace set his mind to sleep better than any warm bed. Atop the tabby's head was a worn bowler, threatening to tip at every bob of his head, and he was dressed in a fine suit that had seen better days. it was patched and tattered at the elbows, cheap denim contrasting sharply with the fine brown cloth.

Abel Cadwey had left England 6 years ago dreaming of adventure, and more than a little profit. His ambitions, however, were shared by every single person upon the boat he arrived on, and every immigrant in the slums of every city he passed through. To dream, and to dare, had left him with very little ambition, and even less money lining his wallet. His latest venture had him travelling west, along the dusty rails that would hopefully lead him to the life he longed for.

[Brae]

@Abel

The rush of the noise of air and wheels woke you as the door was opened from between the cars of the train. Grogginess still in your ears you manage to over hear the gentlemen outside your compartment.

"...high-dollar cars, boys." A gruff voice rumbled. They shuffled inside and through the mosaic glass of the compartment you can see the figures of four men. One whispers harshly, "Search 'em. She's in one of them."

And then one wimpered, "S-sure boss." Through the glass you see him reach for his hip and struggle with something that falls to the floor with a loud thud. The sound of tingling spills from the dropped thud and you notice, from below your compartment door, in rolls a bullet. There's another thud then a groan from the whiner as he recoils and grabs his head.

"You idiot, let me!" He shoves him aside and rips at the door to throw it open but your door's lock hold tight.

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