The RAFian west.

[Blazing Angel]

((Idea I just started brainstorming. Let's see if this goes any better than my previous attempts at hit fan fiction.))

 The frontier is a hard and unpredictable land. One stroke of bad luck and a man can end up starving to death in what was once a thriving ranch. But if the good Lord decided to give you a break, their were fortunes to be made. Tobacco, gold, oil, skins, all can be found somewhere in this harsh plain. It is the land of the mighty cowboy. Those free souls who wander the land like soldiers of fortune. Of course, the common folk have a tendency to gather like cattle. Safety in numbers, more bodies to stop the bullets heading your way, however you put it.

 That's how RAF was formed. A collection of folks who could be considered less than normal. Those who society weren't ready for. Oddly enough, the towns name comes from a lesser known series of books that seems to attract the foreign and unusual. Nobody quite knows why, but somehow it works. Folks are free to do as the please so long as they don't pull anything that would cause them to be lynched anywhere else. Of course, we have our enemies. Crazy folks, those who have personal grudges against our residents, and the occasional gang that mistakes us for an easy target. Although fighting them off could be warranted as a good time.

 My name is Blaze. I consider myself to be an active member of the community, but not as much as I'd like to. I consider myself to be somewhat of a sharpshooter, but I still have both eyes. But I am an RAFian. That is for sure until the Lord decides to invite me in for a cozy stay.

[Blazing Angel]

 I found myself going through my usual routine. My routine being, shooting stupid men to s*** when they dared to challenge my home. A small group of of lowlifes were moving in and trying to earn a name for themselves by doing what so many other idiots had failed to do and exterminate the 'unnaturals.' The town itself was the real target however. The whole area has been built to be defended, has plenty of nooks and crannies, and lots of our unique toys and doodads. What could easily be converted into an gangsters paradise is what I'm saying.

 I was assigned to shoot targets of importance from the fortified position above the dry goods store. Tobias the centaur was dodging and weaving between the terrains, launching arrows that never seemed to miss their mark. My honorary brother, Rukh, was using his shape shifting talents to get close and gun em down when they weren't looking.

 We were the main people holding off this raid. Not because we were the best, it was simply a very small one, and we were the most eager to fight. The occasional passerby would let off a shot as an afterthought. The fight was over in minutes. With over half their numbers dead or dying, the smart ones broke rank and ran for safety. Off to the saloon for the drinks we earned. 

[Blazing Angel]

If you're reading this, please leave a reply, whether you like it, or have some criticism. When nobody comments I feel like I'm singing to an empty auditorium.


 We were met with a hearty reception as we entered the saloon. We had done our job well, and the three of us had a reputation as being able to hold our liquor. The stuff seems to cook out in my stomach. Rukh is very hearty, and we're not quite sure whether it's even possible to get him wasted. And Tobias...well it's very hard to get something as large as a centaur drunk. Our local bartender and caffeine addict, Ko Ko gave us each a pint and a half of good strong, home brewed beer.

 It's hard to get good alcohol in this part of the land, so we make it ourselves. The first batch was horrible. Stuff smelled nasty, tasted like hog slop, and seemed to cause blindness. It made fantastic spackle though. Once a few more experienced brewers moved in, we got some of the good stuff. In fact, some of the 'normal folk' venture out here against all their neighbors advice to buy our signature moonshine.

 "Good brew today." I commented. She nodded in approval and my two partners in crime showed their agreement buy downing half a pint each before coming up for air.

[Underseen]

I guess your writing muse is gone...

[Blazing Angel]

It's there, but this is why I ask for at least a comment, otherwise I will completely forget about it, or otherwise not feel motivated to write. I have to go to a thing in a few minutes, but I'll try to work on an update in about two hours.

[Underseen]

Go to a thing... I just went to a thing yesterday.

[Blazing Angel]

 The town has no sheriff. A general patrol is kept by the more battle proficient RAFians. Some of our more mechanically inclined were working on a force field to surround the town. For Earth, that's hundreds of years ahead. For the grand scheme, we're giving a bit of hop and skip towards the average space faring race. Shops and other services are run by some of the meeker, or sensible residents. Goom is our doctor, the best I've met which is amazing considering his lack of hands. Everyone has basic medical training, to the point that a bullet in the goat only requires a steady hand and a bottle of whiskey to fix. 

 Homes are built to the owner's preference, within reason. My own is meant to be a place for my buddies to operate on Saturdays. it kept a good stock of snack and drink, was near the shooting range, and has enough chips and cards to bankrupt a casino. It also happens to be as far away from the horse stalls as possible, which was not a factor in the design, but a pro nonetheless.

 Everyone has some job or the other to earn their food and board. Some are on a more constant patrol, others will just take a few hours out of their day for some physical labor. People like me prefer to freelance, come when called with general labor. Shoot things, fix small objects. Throw surprise parties. It's a good life. On the 'Merican frontier.

[Underseen]

Is this a one-shot or will it be more action filled later.

[Blazing Angel]

More action later, I'm setting the scene.

[Underseen]

That's what I thought, but I am really liking how you are shaping the environment.