sonickey: (Default)
sonickey ([personal profile] sonickey) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2015-05-13 05:36 pm
Entry tags:

The Wild West meme



Welcome to the wild west! No cars, no telephones, no fancy space lasers. Just horses, dust, and bullets. Does your muse have what it takes to survive in the old west?

✭ Post a comment with your muse's name, canon, and which role they'll be playing in this western. Example: John Doe - Every Story Ever - Sheriff
✭ Feel free to set up a little of the scene with where your muse is and what they're doing. Example: The town sheriff's sitting in front of the jail, watching the town.
✭ Others reply to your comment with another piece of the western puzzle. Maybe it's the stagecoach driver visiting the local brothel or the wanted gunslinger challenging her rival.
✭ Have fun!

1. SHERIFF - You're the law in this town. Do you keep the peace or take a piece for yourself? Not everyone who wears the tin star wears it for a good reason.
2. BOUNTY HUNTER - You make your money tracking down the worst of the worst. Do you bring them in still breathing, or is the 'alive' part in 'Dead or Alive' only a last resort?
3. WANTED MAN - Maybe you're a ruthless killer. Maybe you've been charged with a crime you didn't commit. Either way, there's a price on your head and people who want to collect.
4. GUNSLINGER - You've made a name for yourself with your gun. Now, people want to hire you for your skills or kill you to prove their own.
5. PROSTITUTE - Sometimes there's a brothel in town and sometimes it's just a handful of ladies (or gents) working out of the local saloon. Someone's got to entertain the stagecoach travelers and divest them of their money.
6. STAGECOACH DRIVER - Your job sucks. Hundreds of hours riding on a wooden bench behind galloping horses, getting shot at by bandits or chased by the local natives. You need a drink, a good meal, and maybe some company?
7. DOCTOR - Did you actually study this or do you just like to cut people open?
8. SALOON WORKER - You might own the place or just tend bar there. Maybe you're the poor sucker who plays the piano? Either way, you see it all.
9. NATIVE - An army scout, a stately tribal Chief, or an angry brave... there are foreign men all over your country now. Do you try for peace or take back what's yours?
10. OTHER - Got another role you'd rather play? Go for it!
j_h_holliday: (not a part of the game)

John "Doc" Holliday | Historical Character | ota

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-14 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
[totes obvs.]
onewhodares: (maile coat)

a dwarf walks into a bar...

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-14 12:51 am (UTC)(link)
The world of men. Thorin had a low opinion of men but since his people could not return home, he had found his way from town to town. Offering his services as a blacksmith, metalworker, a man for hire.

It was raining as he arrived in town, on foot without a horse. He stepped into the saloon, pushing the hood of his cloak back and giving the place a sharp look. Head and shoulders shorter than anyone there, he still looked like someone you did not want to mess with.

"Give me an ale," he said as he tapped the bar with a hand to get the barkeeps attention. Putting a coin down to pay for it and glancing to the room again. Looking for anyone who might be dangerous. Looks like there's a poker game going on near the piano player.
j_h_holliday: (cards)

It's like the jokes write themselves...

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-14 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
He had been contemplating shooting the piano player for at least a half a hour, maybe more. It was hard to tell, the annoyance crept up upon him slowly, though the sour and missed notes had beat him about the head and face since he stepped into the salon.

It was more than any reasonable man can take.

The game of poker was not helping. The cards were fair, the company around the table poor and the one on the left stank of horse and like he had a sworn vengeance against water. The stench was made even worse by the hot humidity of the rain outside. It made all thinks swollen, sticky, from the cards, down to the smell of all present. The night was not going well.

In the end, the only thing that saved the piano player's life was the swinging of the doors and the odd twittering hush that fell over the crowd. It rippled like a rock in a pond till it hit the poker table and, mercifully, the piano player.

Looking up from his cards he could not see the reason for the silence, not until the crowd parted slightly to make way for the man who was build like the base of a mountain, if not the vertical rise of it. The bartender looked at the coin and then the man who laid it down and then at the coin again as if he wasn't quite certain of what to do in this situation. After a handful of heart beats he reached to pour the ale.

Interesting.

Doc will place his next bet and let his gaze drop to his cards. Like most things, watching from afar suited him, until he knew what lay on the table.
onewhodares: (not impressed)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-14 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
A curious shaped axe head was visible from under the folds of the cloak. But Thorin did not look like any woodsman from around there. Stocky with broad shoulders, his tunic was leather with a wide leather belt around his waist. He was just under 5 foot tall, a disadvantage to some, but obviously not to him.

He turned his back on the group, concentrating on his ale instead. The silence subsided a bit, but the nervous feeling hung in the air. Strangers to town had a stigma of causing trouble. Not liking the men at the bar and preferring his own company, Thorin carries his mug over to the nearest empty table. It happened to be next to the poker game, something he paid no mind to. Card games were not something he spent time on. What he needed was work. After he drank his ale to ward off the chill of being out in the rain.
j_h_holliday: (not a part of the game)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-14 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
That axe? Well Doc would just love to see some law man come around trying to unarm him of such a weapon, the encounter would certainly provide a good story and ample amusement. Up until someone lost a limb, and then the story would get even better.

One of the players calls and the cards are laid on the table, Doc the winner with all those lovely diamonds. Tonight they are revealing to be his best friend.

All of a sudden a chair is slammed back into Thorin's chair. The garbage heap of a man shooting up from his seat with surprising speed and snarling indignation, beer and tobacco juice.

"That's the second time you got them aces," a snarl of words and froth that were practically the opening line for all of these encounters. "Why that is a shocking thing to say, friend. I had no idea you could count that high." The joke only sort of hits his mark, it does seem to effect the pacing of his speech but also adds to the anger because he's like, 75% sure he's been insulted.

"I want my money back!"
onewhodares: (not impressed)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-14 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
Thorin only just manages to keep his drink from spilling onto his shirt, an annoyed growl over his shoulder at the oblivious patron. Why could men not keep their disputes to themselves, they had to broadcast it to the entire room?

The joke however is not lost on him, a rare smirk curving the side of his mouth as he goes back to his drink. In time to get his chair jostled again as the angry man's chair is pushed aside. Oh that was it, he had not traveled this many miles to be shoved around like a sack of potatoes while he was trying to enjoy his drink.

"Will you not take your fight out in the streets where it belongs?!" he spouts back, angry at the constant interruptions. "There are some who wish for quiet." The nervous piano player takes the hint better than the large man and stops playing entirely.
j_h_holliday: (a little drink)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-14 02:11 am (UTC)(link)
There are fighters that leap at the chance to draw blood, who edge to their weapon at the faintest hint of trouble and violence. Doc Holliday is not one of those men. Will he draw? Sure he'll draw, sometimes it comes down to that, but usually he sits back and enjoys the show. Usually the violence will spark and flame but eventually fizzle out like a wet match.

Plus, the stinky gentleman hasn't drawn a weapon and now he's distracted.

"Look what you've done, George Benson, you've ruined the man's evening out..." George Benson don't give a shit. Because George seems to think that small equals defenseless, easy to push around. Actually, history has shown George doesn't think at all.

With that speed that Doc still finds confounding, he turns and grabs at the dwarf looking to haul him out of his chair and away from his drink. "I'll take you out into the streets!" Head like a rotten melon and the stink of one too, George doesn't really go in for clever insults, he finds them gauche.
onewhodares: (serious)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-14 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
Oh no, not today. His axe is in his hands before the large man realizes. With a yell in dwarvish, Thorin jabs the end into his gut, doubling him over in pain. The handle comes around to trip his feet and the giant, like Goliath of old, falls to the floor in a heap.

Thorin standing over him, his hands gripping his axe. He wasn't going to get pushed around now or ever by such idiots. Everyone had pulled back about two or three paces when the fighting started.

"Take yourself outside," Thorin growls at the man on the floor, his axe dangerously close to his neck. "Or I will take your head." He does not beat about the bush when it came to defending himself. He had crossed the wrong dwarf.
j_h_holliday: (cup)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-14 11:30 am (UTC)(link)
It is a thoroughly appropriate and well controlled response that leaves George groaning on the floor, holding his wounded bulge of a belly. Today is just not George's day. First he lost at cards, then he had to count to two and now he'll have to go outside where it's raining and that might wash away some of the protective filth that he's cultivated for years.

Some guys just can't catch a break.

"This ain't over," is the last muttered words he'll get out as he sort of crouch walks to the doors. A sneer over his shoulder at the dwarf before he disappears outside and into the rain.

As soon as he leaves, Doc will speak. "I apologize for the interruption, friend. He was raised in the worst side of a barn apparently. For your troubles I would like to buy you a drink if you'll allow it."
onewhodares: (not impressed)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-14 11:46 am (UTC)(link)
Worthless words to end such a display. Thorin pays them no heed as he looks to the room of shocked faces. He shoulders his axe again under his cloak, certain that this is the time to leave.

But to his surprise, the well dressed man at the card table addresses him quite genially. He gives Doc a suspicious look, one borne of years of distrust. "I do not drink with strangers." Thorin tends to make enemies, and not many friends. However, Doc's genial nature seems to have smoothed the tension in the room as people go back to whatever they were doing before the bru-ha-ha started.
j_h_holliday: (observin')

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-14 11:55 am (UTC)(link)
"A reasonable rule to live by," the gentleman drawls slowly, not a hair or a breath out of place after the incident. "Not one that I, myself live by but I respect the wishes of others." Doc drinks and he does so either by himself, with friends or, more recently, with strangers.

"Well then," he stands politely and motions to the empty seat. "Either learn my name or enjoy the drink at your own table. Both would honor me."
onewhodares: (Default)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-14 05:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Now that was one he could accept. This man had more sense than most.

He puts a hand to his chest, inclining his head in greeting and acceptance. "Thorin Oakenshield, at your service and your family's."

He takes the chair offered as the barman brings them both fresh drinks.
j_h_holliday: (hat tip)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-15 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
Well that is a rather new greeting, Doc could only imagine what sort of trouble one might get into pledging one's service to person and family. "On behalf of myself and my kin, I thank you," because he is nothing if not polite and courteous with all greetings. This is following by a slight bow and waits till the other man is seated before carefully lowering himself.

"Doctor John Holliday, my friends call me Doc and I hope you'll feel free to do the same. What brings you to our neck of the woods?"
onewhodares: (prince thorin)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-15 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
He takes a healthy swig of his drink before answering.

"Work. Wherever I can find it."

This is how the mighty have fallen. The dwarves of Erebor selling their trades out like common folk. But Thorin will do what he must to survive.

"You're a man of medicine?" he asks, finally with curiosity rather than mistrust in his voice.
j_h_holliday: (a fine mustache)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-15 11:57 am (UTC)(link)
"And what work is it that you do, Thorin Okenshield?" Doc will inquire politely, his head cocked to the side very slightly in interest.

The Bouron that is brought to him is sipped neatly before returning to the table.

"I am a dentist but that is as close to a man of medicine you will get in these parts." Fingers smooth down his mustache and reach for the cards once again to shuffle.
onewhodares: (blacksmith)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-15 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
"I work with my hands, I am skilled in axe, hammer, and blade." A blacksmith seemed to be all he was suited for out here, but he was more of a craftsman as all dwarves were.

Thorin does not speak his mind but this man did not dress like a dentist, much less a medical man. He dressed like a gambler. A profession in itself, but not one that Thorin would ever want. It lacked passion and skill to his eyes.
j_h_holliday: (Ahh well now)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-16 07:25 am (UTC)(link)
"That is a very handy skill around here to have, though I have to think the blade might be only as sought after as my profession." A blade is certainly handy in a close fight, Doc enjoys it himself from time to time, but it is as sought out as his dental practice.

Idly he shuffles, the cards lost and drown under the low murmur of voices and the occasional laugh. "Where do you call home?"
onewhodares: (not impressed)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-17 12:03 am (UTC)(link)
Since he had the ear of someone who lived here, he might as well try to learn where he might find work from him. "Is this town in need of a blacksmith?" If he had to only sharpen blades, he would take it to keep going.

Thorin is not one to answer that question readily. "Far from here, to the north." He contemplates his mug of ale as if he could see Erebor in it. "Under a mountain." His eyes looked up at the other man. "You?"
j_h_holliday: (Default)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-17 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Doc tilts his head to the side thoughtfully, turning the question there and referencing old conversations, snippets of gossip to see if he had a serious answer for the question. "Daniel Edmondson runs the forge in this town, and is at the other end of the street on the outskirts. I am unsure if he is looking for help in that regard but it does not hurt to ask."

He can't imagine anyone would turn down another set of hands for the forge, there must always be work, but he's not sure.

"I am from a small town called Griffin, in the state of Georgia. The state contains mountains but I do not think there are any villages that reside under them."
onewhodares: (not impressed)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-17 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
He appreciates the information. He'll have to head that direction after the rain lets up.

"I have not heard of Georgia." But he had not traveled this far south before. He takes another swallow of his drink, a quiet sense of loss at the mention of his home. Someplace he cannot go back to. "The world of men is no place for a dwarf."
j_h_holliday: (flask)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-20 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
"It is a lovely place, if very far away and completely out of my reach." There is a pause and he reaches for his Bourbon to take a slow sip, as if that was his own silent toast to a long lost home.

"Knowing what I do about men, I have to believe that you might not always have the easiest of times in places like this." Some people equate being short to being slow or weak, those people would be fools and blind to Thorin if they thought that looking at him. "You handled that confrontation very well."
onewhodares: (serious)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-21 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
In that, they were alike. Both far from a home they could not return to.

Thorin scowls at the mention of the confrontation from earlier. "The man wanted to fight. He did not care with whom." Though he certainly seemed like he wanted a piece of Doc for his luck with cards. Here's hoping his pride was wounded enough not to return.
j_h_holliday: (black ride out cigarette)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-21 12:00 pm (UTC)(link)
"True," Doc concedes. "But he was looking to me for it and I am in no hurry to rush to violence," a slight sniff as if the thought had a foul stench to it.

"It was satisfying to see Goliath fall however."
onewhodares: (Default)

[personal profile] onewhodares 2015-05-21 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"You would not have defended yourself?" Thorin asks with a frown. Granted, Doc did look a little pale but otherwise, he would not want to be the one who took on someone else's battle.
Edited 2015-05-21 23:59 (UTC)
j_h_holliday: (behind the back)

[personal profile] j_h_holliday 2015-05-22 11:57 am (UTC)(link)
"I would have," Doc defends himself now. "I just prefer not to wrinkle my suit," a joke but after he speaks he realizes that sounds like a bit of a cop out.

"He had not drawn a weapon, if he had not and I brought him down it would be my neck on the line, despite being in fear for my life." That is certainly one thing he does not look like, a man terrified. A sick, pale man, most certainly.

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