I'm the Law around here, boy! ((closed))

[Molotov]

Molotov had been stupidly. The sword was far too heavy, and the mutant had a limited knowledge of swordsmanship. It had been to his advantage that he had at first amused the Mistress, just because she had never seen a person so totally engrossed with a succubus. However, as the fight droned on, Molotov had begun to regain some semblance of his natural self. He no longer longed for Mileva, and even felt a bit foolish about his earlier reaction. Still the mutant fought, because he had also regained his sense of direction and purpose. “For bollock’s sake, it was as if I’d never seen a sodding woman…” he thought to himself irritably. “That was way too stupid for any bird, who cares how bloody pretty she was…”

By the time Letho had recovered, it was clear that the Mistress had lost her interest in Molotov. That was fortunate, as Molotov genuinely lacked any semblance of a plan, his forearms were weary from carrying a sword too big for him, and the feeling of utter embarrassment made him almost unable to think of anything other than how foolish he’d been.

Still, it seemed like Molotov hadn’t been necessary. Letho possessed abilities far greater than ones that the mutant had remembered the Marshall for, abilities that were impressive enough to damage the very structural integrity of the building they were in. Molotov watched as the Mistress buckled under the onslaught and laughed sardonically, taking but one last look down at Mileva before turning to face Letho.

“We’re going to have to leave…” Molotov said. The ceiling was fragmenting, small pieces were falling with the regularity of a rain storm. It was wasted breath though, Letho was all too aware of this new danger. Seemingly tireless, Letho had already begun to rescue the two women. The mutant could merely nod to accept his assignment of the boy and get to work.

Immediately, Molotov stepped over the corpse of the Mistress and slapped the boy on his shoulder. The mutant was particularly careful. He tore off his jacket, spikes and all, so as to prevent from hurting the child when he put him up on his shoulder. Almost immediately, Molotov thought to reach down and grab his jacket, but then his eye caught something particularly dangerous.

“Bloody hell Letho!” Molotov shouted. “She’s still alive!” The Mistress hadn’t been killed by Letho’s attack, knocked unconscious, but she was still every breath as alive as she’d been before the fight had started. Molotov wasn’t sure if he was heard. It didn’t matter. The balcony, which had been hanging by little more than a few bricks, came crashing down to the ground. The mutant staggered as shockwaves rippled across the ground, and he looked angrily at the former Mistress. Mileva had been crushed under the balcony, and now, even when all the feelings of her spell were gone, the mutant couldn’t help but feel a bit of sentiment for the departed succubus.

Somehow, the shotgun she had used had ended up right at Molotov’s feet. The mutant laughed. It was a hollow laugh, but a laugh none the less. He was probably going to die right there, but it barely mattered. The ceiling was falling down, but he was going to go down in a blaze of glory.

The mutant lit himself a cigarette and then cocked the shotgun. He had never used such a powerful firearm before, but the mutant had seen them before during his time at Jamison Academy. He took aim at the Mistress’ head and then fired, leaving it as nothing more than a smattering of blood and brains.

“Bloody powerful,” he commented appreciatively. He took a drag of his cigarette callously, as if he didn’t care that he was going to die. The balcony blocked his only way through. The ceiling would be falling in a matter of minutes.

“So, I spent it well,” he muttered before looking back at the little child on his shoulder. “Too bad you’ll never get the chance, eh?”

He felt guilty for the sarcastic comment just as soon as he’d said it. The mutant glanced at the shotgun one last time. At the very least he could give the boy a more dignified death than being crushed under the weight of the falling ceiling. He cocked the shotgun once again.

“Sorry kid…” he thought. He targeted the weapon right between the unconscious boy’s eyes. However, Molotov couldn’t pull the trigger. He tried to, he really wanted to, but he just couldn’t. The boy had just seemed so peaceful that the mutant could bear the idea of the child’s head splattered like that of the mistress.

There was only one last chance, and it wasn’t much of a chance. “What the hell,” Molotov figured. “If it fails we die anyways…” The mutant took a shot at the balcony, and followed it off with another, He cocked and fired, pumping out five shells from the gun before he’d managed to make a hole big enough in the balcony that he could carry the kid through.

“Lets move then,” he said. Molotov quickly grabbed the boy, put him on his shoulder and then darted out through the hole he’d made just as a huge piece of ceiling came crashing down over where he had once stood.

[Letho]

Instead of seeing Molotov emerging from the crumbling room and into the hallway that led towards the stairs, Letho wound up witnessing what seemed like a seal on the fates of both the mutant and the boy he should’ve rescued. The beetling balcony that seemed genuinely unstable when the Marshal made his exit came crashing down, successfully clogging up the doorway with stone debris. And while this usually wouldn’t be too large of an obstacle for Letho who was more then able to cast aside some rocks, the damage he did to the columns had a domino effect. The whole underground complex was falling to ruin like a dam that couldn’t handle the pressure of the water. In this case, it was the earth that did the damage, seeping into the interior through the newly formed cracks, but the end result was bound to be the same which ultimately meant that there was no time.

However, Molotov refused to go down so easily. The Marshal just reached the foot of the winding stairs when he could hear gunfire behind his back. Four times the weapon fired and when it shot the fifth time, the mutant, his mohawk and the youngling squeezed through the hole. Letho smirked. “I thought you weren’t coming, Molotov. Thought you might’ve stayed around to mourn about your succubus friend.” the swordsman said, his voice overcoming the quaking sound that seemed everywhere around them. “Let’s get out of here before this place becomes our grave.”

He readjusted the pair of broads on his shoulders, securing his arms around their waists, before he started to make his way up the stairs. Despite his supernatural strength, the ascend sapped the energy from Letho’s system stunningly fast. His knee still ached with every step he made, his accelerated regeneration process unable to mend it in time, and combined with the added weight on his shoulder and the steep inclination, Letho felt as if he was pulling a plow through a rocky patch of soil. By the time he reached the top of the stairs and entered the hallway that would lead them outside, he thought that he would collapse. By the time he strode down the length of the passage and reached the freedom of the natural light at the end of it, he did collapse.

With the stone halls collapsing behind them even as they fled from the bowels of the earth, a Marshal, two hypnotized women, a mutant and a boy came stumbling out into the morning sunlight of a typical Concordia day. Letho fell down on his knees, lowered the pair of lifeless bodies on the grassy soil as gently as he could and then grabbed a hold of his side just below his ribs. It was a cramping pain that he felt, something that didn’t occur to him in years now, something that overcame him only when his exertions started to dangerously approach the limits of his body. He breathed like a steam engine, sweat dripping off of his grime-covered forehead as the deep rumbling sound behind their backs announced the ultimate capitulation of the underground temple. And then, with a puff of dust coming from the entrance, everything went perfectly silent.

The birds chirped in the frolicky manner that could only signify the start of another cloudless sunny day. Instead of the dim, gray-scarlet luminance that crept through the insides of the underground cathedral, the proximity around them was now vibrant with colors, heedless to the mischief that was happening beneath the surface mere moments ago. Letho willed himself up to his feet once again, did his best to dust off his attire before he turned to Molotov. The mutant went through for the Marshal better then he anticipated, despite the rather embarrassing hiccup with the succubus that efficiently befuddled his mind.

“Now that was a bit too close for comfort.” Letho said, looking and sounding a bit weary from the whole ordeal. This was the third town he visited in as many days and in each he had to work his ass off to correct whatever was currently awry, and all of that on several hours of sleep. He needed some serious R&R and soon. Luckily, Oaktown was the last of the Four Towns in which he had to reestablish the law. “Shame about those men though. But at least we got these three. Come on, let’s get them back to the town.”

The fact that they would probably have to carry the three all the way wasn’t something that brought a smile to Letho’s face. However, he did come this far. The least he could do is run down that home stretch. But when he moved towards the pair of women, both of them stirred almost instantaneously. At first it was just a flinch of a hand or a leg, but soon enough their eyes shot open, then closed due to the vehement sun, then reopened more shyly. As if this wasn’t good enough of a news, several men came into the clearing from the forest, all in their long johns and still wearing their nightcaps, all with the same confused, where-the-hell-am-I faces. It seemed that the connection with the succubus broke just in time for them to get enough sensibility to get the hell out of wherever the hell they were.

“Wh-What happened? Where are we?” the woman – a blonde with a rather curvaceous figure – spoke, propping herself up on her elbows.

“You’re safe.” Letho responded with a smile. “And you’ll be home in no time.”

[Molotov]

Somehow, Molotov had survived. The mutant wasn’t exactly sure how, but he was particularly relieved that he had made it out alive. Everything just seemed better now, Molotov’s head felt cleared, as if the effects of Mileva’s spell had finally run their course. The mutant paid no attention to Letho’s chiding, because he was so completely and utterly relieved that there was nothing to say. The sun had risen since they’d entered the cave, and it seemed like such a complete and utter shock to have moved from the abject darkness of the temple below out into the forest where birds chirped merrily as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

“Yeah, you’re right about those blokes down there…” Molotov muttered. It was a real shame, especially given that it was only a matter of luck that he had avoided being one of them. The mutant wondered what would have happened had the Mistress never called on Mileva. Letho would have just as likely been successful, and Molotov would have either been eaten alive by the succubus or crushed under the weight of the temple falling.

“Just a bloody shame,” he thought, touching his back gingerly. There were a good deal of sore marks from Mileva’s claws, and now that her spell had worn off, they were beginning to hurt much more. Still, Molotov couldn’t complain too much. He had survived. He was groggy and the bright sunlight hurt his eyes, but at the very least, Molotov had made it through.

Though the mutant didn’t care to admit it vocally, he largely had Letho to thank for being alive. Had the powerful Marshall never arrived in Oaktown, Molotov may have never been able to stem the tide of villagers leaving. Ultimately, that was what he had come to the town for, to do some good for once in his life, and now it had been done. Perhaps some of the luster of the good deed had been removed because of Letho’s involvement, but Molotov knew that while he hadn’t been the story’s hero, he’d been an essential part none the less. If it wasn’t for him, he doubted many others would have survived to see Letho’s arrival. It had been Molotov, not the Marshall who had waited outside the gates night after night, fetching people who had gone astray.

Now, the little boy on his shoulder was beginning to stir, and Molotov let him down gently. “You’re fine now,” Molotov said, as he wiped a layer of sweat and dust off of the little boy’s brow. “In good time too, you’ve managed to meet the Mistress and come out alive, not too many blokes who can say that.”

The boy blushed at Molotov’s charitable remark. He was roughly eight years old, with sandy blond hair and enough of a desire within him that he most likely wanted to be treated as a man. Now, the boy toed the dirt as he looked at the ground, speaking with humility. “Well you were the one to save me…”

Molotov smiled, a few light compliments were necessary, as long as the boy didn’t grow too conceited. He had felt the boy would have felt embarrassed otherwise, being around two older women who were likely to fawn over Letho. “That’s nothing…” Molotov said. “I never even saw a bloody monster like that until I was more than twice your age… you’re pretty tough just to make it out without soiling your pants…”

The boy giggled.

“And let me tell you, that would have made you a lot harder to carry,” Molotov joked.

The two shared a laugh. After that, Molotov retrieved the weapons that he and Letho had abandoned outside of the cave and headed back for Oaktown. Molotov wondered what kind of a welcome he would get. He wondered even if he’d be recognized. His signature Mohawk had been disheveled, and only just now did he realize that he had left his jacket inside the dark temple. “Maybe its better that way though,” Molotov figured. “Never heard of a town saluting a hero dressed in spikes…”

None the less, Molotov sighed. He had liked that jacket.

However, there were certain advantages to this new appearance, readily apparent in the two women who Letho had rescued. Both of them were young, and seemingly flirtatious and grateful for their rescue. They had been smiling at both Letho and Molotov coquettishly, but it seemed that a curvy brunette had been paying particular attention to Molotov. “Now this is a nice development…” Molotov thought. “Looks like I do have some talents that Letho didn’t after all… who needs a bloody succubus when I can have these birds.”

The rest of the walk to Oaktown was full of idle conversation and a rather fictionalized account of the battle. In the story Molotov shared with the two young women, there was no mention of Mileva, and the end battle had involved a great deal more of Molotov. “Yeah I was in trouble then, bloody Letho had run off taking you two, leaving me to finish off the Mistress…” Molotov continued, smiling as the brunette wrapped her arm tightly around his. “It wasn’t his fault though, Letho’s a good warrior and all that, he just doesn’t have the same survival instincts that I do… she was just pretending to be dead, still armed, still ready to fight, so I had to blow her brains out. Now that might have been hard for most, but I was ready… I had taken this shotgun from the succubus I fought earlier, you know…”

The brunette crooned. “Boy you sure are strong…” she said. “But weren’t you even the littlest bit frightened?”

Molotov merely smiled. “No Emily, I’d stared down danger before. She was no greater challenge than the ones I’d faced before… I won the Gisela Open, you know.” Molotov grinned, and flashed a little bit of a wink over towards Letho. He figured the ranger wouldn’t mind, Molotov had helped out in his own way after all.

By the time they had reached Oaktown, news of their victory was already known. Apparently, some of the men had managed to escape. They had been released from Mileva’s charm the moment that the succubus had fallen, and had exited from the dark palace before it had crumbled. The town was already preparing for a party.

Emily smiled excitedly. “Molotov you have to come!” she said. “It’s going to be a feast, roast pig and potatoes, everything you’d ever want to eat. We’ve been waiting for this moment for a while. Letho should come too, just because he didn’t do all that you did, he certainly still helped out…”

“Uhh… yeah…” Molotov replied nervously, eyeing Letho liked he hoped the Marshall would let the comment pass without contradiction. “Letho really did do a lot down there…”

[Letho]

Listening to Molotov recount the whole ordeal with Mileva and her Mistress made Letho think that whoever said that victors wrote histories obviously never won a victory in a tandem with another person. The mutant followed the real story rather vaguely, leaving out the less heroic parts and emphasizing the ones that made him the champion. And while the Marshal was never too fond of people that stole someone’s thunder, in this instance he was actually glad. He was depicted as the hero numerous times and more often then not this fabled title brought more aches then ease to a man’s head. After all, the hero had to answer questions, act in sync with his legendary benevolence, live under the magnifying glass of the public. And right now, all that Letho wanted to do is conclude the official business on Oaktown and get back to Willow Manor where Myrhia was bound the be pacing in circles, worried about her lover.

So as they walked towards the liberated town, the dark swordsman let Molotov run his mouth, interjecting with an occasional ‘yes’ or ‘no’ but generally letting the mutant have his minutes of fame that after a long while finally wasn’t the infamous kind that got him on wanted posters. The discarded equipment was strapped rather sloppily on Letho’s back, his leather coat folded over his hand as he listened to the chest-beating and the awe-stricken gasps of the pair of women that held to Molotov’s flank, enchanted by his narration.

By the time they reached Oaktown, the handful of embarrassed men passed the word about the capitulation of the Forest Demoness as they called it. A myriad of faces stood around the main street, all abandoning their daily chores to witness the return of their heroes. Letho they didn’t know and didn’t particularly care about, but he did play some part in the mythical clash between Molotov and the Mistress, so he got the provisional number of female glances and cheers and even got a coronal that some teen lass placed around his neck together with a pecker on his cheek. They walked towards the main square, the crowd directing them into the town hall that was in the process of being decorated for the celebration. The brunette that drooled all over the mutant invited them to the fiesta that seemed to be pending for a while now.

“I’m grateful for your invitation, miss.” Letho said, his courtesy cryptic enough not to be easily recognized as either genuine or sarcastic. “However, I have pressing matters to discus with your Mayor and his elders. I am, after all, here as the officer of the law.”

“Well, it’s your loss, really. The old geezers are up on the second floor, probably downing some brandy and congratulating themselves for something that Molotov did.” the chirpy woman, still in her nightgown, said, diverting her eyes from the bearded Marshal and tugging on the mutants forearm. “Come on, I think they got the musicians already.”

Letho left the two and the rest of the people that followed them to have their banquet in the rapidly growing crowd of the main room while he moved up the flight of stairs that led away from the antechamber and towards the upper levels. The clamor of the starting festivities died down a little bit as he put two floors between himself and the gist of the party, and quite frankly he wasn’t the least bit sad about it. Big commemorations and rowdy crowds were never his environment of preference anyways. He tossed the garland on the floor of the stairs as he ascended.

Behind the only doors that were polished and fully ornamented with what seemed like golden oak trees, Letho found five rather merry gentlemen doing just what the woman said; downing some hard liquor. They sat around a huge rotund table, each with a red nose and a bottle of his favorite poison at his side. The room smelled of old books and stale dust and the beams that came through the open windows were so thick they seemed coherent.

“Gentlemen, sorry to disturb you, but we have some official matters to discus.” the Marshal said, letting himself in after three knocks on the door that went without response. Before they managed to get their bearings and ask questions that would probably cause Letho to get an instant migraine attack, he continued: “I am Marshal Letho Ravenheart, sent here to reestablish order in Oaktown.”

“And you most certainly did that, my good man. Here, have a splash of scotch.” the well-rounded man dressed in what was probably his finest, navy blue attire with several medals of little value. His helmet was slanted so that its plume stood sideways.

“I must decline. And I must also deliver this official letter to you...” Letho said, fishing through the pockets of the coat folded on his hand. “...and ask your signature on this document here.”

Approaching the man, he put the sealed letter – that was probably the message of the officials in Radasanth that was saying additional law enforcers were in process of being delivered to Oaktown – and unfurled a rather crumpled document that confirmed that the order had been established. The fat mayor did his best to drop his shot glass and pick up a quill, scribbling something that didn’t look like any letters Letho ever saw.

“Now, we all go to join the festivities!” the mayor – whose name was Brtnoub Nghen according to the signature – exclaimed, struggling to get out of his chair before the led the way out of the room and down the stairs. The Marshal wasn’t particularly peeved by this behavior, but he wistfully remembered the elders of Savion that were always the embodiments of law itself, stoic and proud and dignifying. These men were nothing like that, but Corone wasn’t Savion and Oaktown wasn’t Ciamar. He rolled up the letter and tucked it into the coat which he threw over his shoulders. He had but one more thing to attend to before concluding this crusade that, though it lasted mere days, seemed like months long.

***

The main room was caught in chaos that limited with madness. The musicians were restlessly playing gleeful tunes, the drums pounded as if they did something wrong to the drummer. The scent of roasted meat and cheap ale and cheaper wine and bitter tobacco was in the air almost like a physical obstacle, demanding for Letho to either accept it or get the hell out of the room. Unfortunately, he had to find Molotov. There were two matters that he had to resolve with the mutant.

Pushing his way through the constantly moving mass – most trying to dance, but generally just swinging groggily in the rhythm of the music – the Marshal made his way to the table behind which the mutant sat with a growing collection of the local maidens, all tipsy and all simply taking in every word like a dry sponge. Letho couldn’t smile. Feasts like these usually meant a lot of really bad, quasi-consenting sex that left drunken lasses deflowered, with a headache and with no recollection of what happened on the night before. Personally, it disgusted him, but it was the way of the people nowadays, and while he couldn’t change that, he didn’t have to be a part of it either.

His hand went to a small pouch that hanged on his belt, detached it and tossed it in front of Molotov. “That’s what I owe to you. Now, I think there’s something you owe to me, Molotov.” Letho said, leaning forward with his rather ominous face that seemed to scare away some of the girls. The serious face ultimately broke into a smirk. “The badge. I can’t have you run around, impersonating a Deputy, now can I?”

[Molotov]

Molotov had been having a great deal of fun before Letho had arrived. He had been telling jokes, drinking ale and smoking cigarettes. Most particularly, he was enjoying the positive attention he was receiving. During most of his stay as a watchman, he had been largely ignored, if not mildly disliked by most of the town. Now, he had come back to them as a hero. The mutant felt no guilt about it, even if he had exaggerated his own accomplishments. He had fought alongside Letho, and for what was little gain. The dark temple had crumbled down before he could have taken anything back.

Now Letho was asking for the Deputy badge back. Molotov tried not to cringe, but he had been hoping that the Marshall would have forgotten about it. This was about the least opportune time as well. In the middle of this feast, everyone’s attention was always on Molotov and Letho. The mutant couldn’t afford to disagree, because it would make him look considerably less honorable. “Well here’s your badge,” the mutant said irritably, regretting that he didn’t even once get to use the little bauble for something fun. “Hope you get good use from it… know I would have.”

Molotov ended the conversation with a good natured wink and a handshake. He realized that he did like Letho after all. The mutant thought the Marshall might benefit a bit from being more jovial, and perhaps should even loosen up and drink a bit. There was no better time than now.

“A drink?” Molotov asked. Letho declined and prepared to leave. Molotov smiled, as if the response had been so incredibly predictable. “Well, have some good adventure and give Myrrhia my regards.”

Letho replied with his own farewells and left. Molotov smiled and raised his glass in a toast. As Letho was leaving though, Molotov felt a slight bit of guilt. The mutant had exaggerated on his own heroics not to discredit Letho but in a momentary rush of poor judgment when trying to impress a young maiden. Letho had said nothing perhaps more out of courtesy than anything else, but Molotov thought it was only fitting that he make sure that everyone in Oaktown sufficiently thanked the warrior who had saved them, but had no desire to stay for the feast.

“PEOPLE!” Molotov said, rising from his chair once again. “A cheer to Letho Ravenheart, Marshall and bringer of Law.”

There was a collective murmur of agreement and sound of glasses clinking. Molotov sat back down.

“That was really nice of you,” Emily said. She had kept herself close to Molotov throughout the entirety of the festivities. “You really showed that you’re a good friend.”

Molotov shook his head. “Letho deserved it,” he said. “I’m just here and there, Letho’s the kind of guy that you build something around. He’s the kind of bloke who can be the pillar when your house is falling down…”

Emily smiled, but it seemed like she didn’t really understand Molotov’s point. “You’re here now though…” she said, cozying up to him.

Molotov sighed. He knew that he couldn’t stay in a place like Oaktown. He looked at Emily, and felt a bit of sorrow. He had come to the town to set a few things right, and now he was going to have to go on and do more. With a sigh, the mutant put his hand to her face gently. “For now,” he said.

Emily understood. “I’ll come with you,” she said.

Molotov smiled. He hadn’t realized it, but this had been what he’d wanted all along. He had been tired and weary, and he had felt mostly like he just needed someone to be with. He eyed Emily appreciatively. “A lot better to get than a bloody badge,” he thought to himself. He looked at the shotgun he had picked up in the dark temple. It was by his chair, and up until that moment Molotov had every intention of keeping it for himself. Now, he handed it over to Emily.

“For you to protect yourself, love,” Molotov said. “We’ll figure all the rest out later… I’ll even meet your father and whatever else you’d want to do.” With that, Molotov sat back and smiled. He had never known a town to be so welcoming. The adventure had been nothing like he'd expected and yet so satisfying.

(for spoils I request gold, I’ll let the moderator decide the amount. Also, I’d like to list Emily as an NPC. She has no real talents at the moment. Molotov also loses the spiked jacket.)

[Letho]

EPILOGUE

The long road home...

The day was nearing noon when Letho exited the raucous interior of the town hall and stepped into the rather desolate main square. It seemed that entire Oaktown was sucked into that room behind his back, all crammed and tipsy and genuinely happy for the first time in a long while. The enchanting voice from the forest was a constant threat to them, an executioner under whose studious eyes they had to live every day, and now that burden was gone for good. And though the Marshal and his grouchy exterior gave out an air of contempt and strictness, he too was put in a good mood by this final victory. He smiled on the inside, as Myrhia always liked to say when she would see that hidden mirth in his eyes, and then she would kiss him and try to stretch his lips into a smile with her fingers.

He missed the chirpy redhead. These days on the road, running from one town to the other, fighting crooked men, solving crimes and slaying mysterious demons, it was taking its toll on the swordsman. He left two Deputies behind along the way, one due to the sickness of her fostered child, the other because she came within a hairbreadth of death. It was dangerous work that he did, standing on that this border between anarchy and law. But even as he did this recapitulation in his head and remembered the smiling, liberated faces that he encountered during his journey, he had to admit that it was worth the effort. The law was reestablished in the Four Towns, the reign of the mischievous Lawmen and all the residue that they left behind was effaced and once again this region could properly prosper.

There were losses though, men perished that he didn’t forget even now when he strode towards his horse and that he wouldn’t ever forget. Men like Edward of Pinetown that wound up as a victim of his wife’s lust and his backstabbing friend. Men like Frank of Birchtown, gunned down by Stephen Daigle, Storm’s henchman. Men like all those that perished at Frank’s side on that day, fighting for their freedom. Fighting and winning in the end. Victor always came at a price, Letho knew. Sometimes that price was death. Sometimes it was merely a heroic endeavor. Sometimes it didn’t seem like it was worth the sacrifice. Lothirgan, Letho’s mentor from back in his prince days, used to say that it was better to die young and honorable then live forever with the tail between your legs. And it was a fine thing to say, a resounding motto, but could you say something like that into the face of a mourning widow that was left with three mouths to feed? Letho couldn’t.

In the end, no victory was ultimate, no success unblemished. What ifs always remained, questions and ponderings on how would certain events unfold if you were quicker, stronger, smarter, more cautious, more calculating... better at doing your job. The Marshal wasn’t a perfectionist, but regret was always there, making him recount certain events, making him sideline the good things in order to penetrate to the gist of the bad ones. Myrhia would tell him that he asked too much of himself, but Myrhia wasn’t here and he had at least a day of solitary riding to mull on what transpired and reach the conclusion that he always reached: What was done, couldn’t be undone.

Strapping his gunblade to the saddle of his horse, Letho checked the straps that held the reins on his mount before he jumped into the saddle. With one last glance at the merry folk that passed by the windows of the town hall, he clucked his horse and slowly took it down the main street and through the widely open gates of the palisades. To the side of the gate, sitting in a patch of dry dirt and drawing incomprehensible shapes in his makeshift sandbox, was a wee lad of some seven or eight summers. His grimy face looked up, noticed the impressive looking rider with a huge dehlar weapon gleaming at his flank. The boy got up doggedly and scurried to the rider.

“Mister, mister!” the tyke shouted. “You won’t be joining our party?”

Letho looked down at the boy that was probably posted to greet the travelers and point them to the festivities in the town hall. “No, business calls me elsewhere.”

“Oh. Well, who are you, mister?”

Letho smiled and heeled his horse so fiercely that the beast neighed and propped itself on the hind legs.

“I’m the law around here, boy!”


((SPOILS:

LETHO

Lawmaker reloading mechanism – the enhanced Winchester reloading mechanism that Frank of Birchtown installed in the gunblade eliminates all the disadvantages that the weapon might have had. Also, the Lawmaker is no longer a single-shot weapon, but can now hold six bullets at once.

A reward of 1000 GP from the Corone Government for reestablishing the law in the Four Towns.

EMPYREAN

Five hundred gold pieces for the work done plus whatever the judge feels right for a quest of this magnitude.

NEKOPRINCESS

Five hundred gold pieces for the work done plus whatever the judge feels right for a quest of this magnitude.

STORM VERITAS

Some extra gold pieces that Storm earned during his tyranny in Birchtown.))

[AsukaStrikes]

Judgment is in!

Before I begin, I must congratulate everyone involoved in this quest with a job well done. I will also give a breakdown of each character and assessment of their performances where applicable.

Here is the overall score for this gigantic three-part quest using the New Rubric.

Story

Continuity - 7/10

You guys each gave good reason to be in the Four Towns area – some better than the other. The overall atmosphere of the story, however, felt more like mini side-stories to each character. Well, saved for the story between Letho, Storm and Molotov.

Setting - 7/10

There was extensive use of setting in this story, more pronounced as the entire story moved forward. I will give a breakdown for each towns the Marshall and Deputies visited:

Willowtown – the Starting place of this quest. The atmosphere reminded me of the old wild west with the image of billowing dust and rugged construction. Not that much interaction from the characters, but Sanoe made good use of this and portrayed the area well.

Pinetown – Reminds me of the Old West as well, but somewhere closer to the Rocky Mountains than out in the open plain. Not a lot of image stuck to me while reading through this besides the fact there was a lot of pine trees and that there is a house a little ways off into the woods.

Pacing - 8/10

The story moved along well, with a few minor back-tracking between characters here and there. It made reading somewhat redundant, but not too boring. The later parts got better and the story flow was very good.

Character

Dialogue - 8/10

Letho – I can really feel he was the no-nonesense kind of person. It seemed out of character at certain points, but on hindsight he was true to his character.

Empyrean – If Sanoe is truly a city girl, I can sure vouch for it. Your dialogues were unique and witty, as such that would come from someone not used to the rigors of the outdoors.

Nekoprincess – I have to say that yours was not was convincing as the others, but I admit that as not being familiar to your character as well. Still, Rainee’s words sometimes contradicted her actions and disposition. For your next entry, it could help to imagine yourself with thoughts and emotions of your character while typing up her thoughts.

Dissinger – Talking in riddles, eh? Sounds fitting of your dark character. If it had been anyone else, I would not have been so convinced. You did not overuse it as some would have, which is a good thing in my opinion.

Storm Veritas – Pretty much your typical Bad Guy/Anti-hero speech, though there was just that touch of arrogance and intimidation that is just so “Storm.” Big thumbs up.

Molotov – Awesome. His words go well with his actions as well as the outlook he has on life.

Action - 7/10

You guys did well in respect to each character’s motivations and mindset. Rainee, however, did give me some eyebrow-raising moments with her rash judgment when dealing with the guards. As for the rest of you, pretty good overall.

Persona - 8/10

There was not a lot of internal dialogue in the first half of the stories, but the more I read the more I could see each character developing in little ways that could use some more story afterwards. Of course, that is best left for future stories.

Writing Style

Technique - 6/10

I did not see a lot of literary devices used in this except for simile and foreshadow, most coming from Letho and Molotov.

Letho – You used a lot of simile and some metaphors, though at certain points you overused the devices more times than necessary. In one post (Post no. 70) you used two simile in a single sentence. That is a bit too much and can irk the readers because there was simply too much visual information given. You don’t really have to use that much to convey the message.

Mechanics - 7/10

You guys stuck well with the standard English grammar, with a few exceptions that helped to enhance the reading value for the readers. There were still a good number of run-on sentences and a few “glitches” in the system.

For instance, I find it quite amusing how Myrhia could “bind her time” while waiting for Letho. I believe the correct term would be “to bide her time” which translates into “to pass time.”

There are a few more of this irregularity, but for the most part everything seems fine. Keep up the good work.

Clarity - 7/10

There were times I had to go over the posts multiple times before I could actually understand. Even though it did not happen often, it tripped up the reading quite a lot.

Misc

Wild Card - 8/10

You guys were great and that I must tip my hats off to you. A 76-post juggernaut like this is something I could only dream of pulling off. And the fact that you guys all found a way to end each part of the story in your own perspectives, which is already quite hard with 3-player quests as opposed to this 6-player quest, impressed me with your dedication.

FINAL SCORE – 74!

Letho receives 5,366 EXP and and +3 Reputation in Corone

Empyrean receives 1000 EXP and +3 Reputation in Corone

Nekoprincess receives 1691 EXP and +1 Reputation in Corone

Dissinger receives 1968 EXP and -1 Reputation in Corone

Storm Veritas receives 2374 EXP and - 3 Reputation in Corone

Molotov receives 2482 EXP and + 2 Reputation in Corone

Spoils are as follow:

Letho – Asides from the 1000 GP pay from the Coronian Government for establishing order in the Four Towns, he also eceives his Rifle Reloading Mechanism from the late Rebel Leader. The gunblade can now hold six shots at a time, though the recoil could still pose a problem with the limit he could fire at a time. Also, it should be noted that the Marshall should keep good care of his weapon or else the mechanism could rust over and end up worse than the occasional gun jam.

Empyrean – Receives her 500 GP pay for working as the Deputy as well as her Deputy Badge, seeing that Letho forgot to reclaim it when they parted. Also, an old lady living in Birchtown was impressed by Sanoe and her work as deputy. Gramma Elanore offered Sanoe two gemstones from her personal collection – one small amethyst gem and one emerald gem. Each are about the size of Sanoe’s own pinky but currently has no magical enchantments whatsoever.

Nekoprincess – Receives 500 GP for working as Deputy to Letho as well as her Deputy badge. Mylie recovered from the fever and received a cute little plush doll from Myrhia as well.

Dissinger – Got away with 250 GP he had pick-pocketed from the jailors back in Pinetown before he was thrown in jail. Those two never saw it coming…

Storm Veritas – From the short while he spent as a tyrant, Storm made away with 800 GP at the cost of his status as Ruler of Birchtown. No one knew he left the town alive, though, and all thought the Marshall had slain the tyrant under the rubble of his manor.

Molotov – Loses his spiked jacket, but receives 500 GP for helping out the Marshall in restoring order to Oaktown. Emily (a young lady from Oaktown) was so captivated by his new hairstyle and personality, she decided to travel along with the mutant as well. ((NPC))