Lord's Rest Inn

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The doors of the tavern open, and a chilly air comes in.

An 18 year old (or at least, looks like one) really hot guy with blood red hair and eyes that are the entire universe, just galaxies, nebulas, and starts, wearing a tuxedo walks in.

 Sparrow is sitting in the tavern, smoking an infernal cigarette, tipping his hat to the stranger out of respect, his glowing magic six shooter sitting on the table.

 *Intro so you know most of his appearance*

The world is a terribly diverse place, anyone can do anything with nearly no conceivable restriction, and even in the case there are some things stoppin' people, loopholes are surprisinly abundant. Outliers, people far from the norm, can be found if anyone were to look hard enough. Even if someone weren't to look too hard, they'd probably find an outlier without even knowin' it. On the outskirts of town is one of these outliers, the sound of the clopping trots of a horse against the ground, the smell of arid sand in the air, and a blazing sun pourin down. A man sits atop his horse in this scene, most of his face hidden by the brim of his brown leather hat and silky maroon bandana, his clothes an open cloak of coal black cloth. He wears a dirty suit underneath the cloak, cut and torn in places, although not revealing any skin because of the cloak on top. His hands hold the reins tightly, wearing two different gloves, each strange in its own way. One glove is a stark white with a golden cross outlined in the silk, the other is a jet black with a five pointed star crafted into the leather. He doesn't speak as he rides, the six shooter on his belt strange in a way of its own, the many other trinkets jangling with every step of the horse. He rides into town, lookin' for somethin' or maybe someone.

 The guy vanishes, and appears behind Sparrow

 He turns and nods to them "Howdy pardner, where I'm from in ain't custom to appear behind folks."

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

The doors of the tavern open, and a chilly air comes in.

An 18 year old (or at least, looks like one) really hot guy with blood red hair and eyes that are the entire universe, just galaxies, nebulas, and starts, wearing a tuxedo walks in.

 Sparrow is sitting in the tavern, smoking an infernal cigarette, tipping his hat to the stranger out of respect, his glowing magic six shooter sitting on the table.

 *Intro so you know most of his appearance*

The world is a terribly diverse place, anyone can do anything with nearly no conceivable restriction, and even in the case there are some things stoppin' people, loopholes are surprisinly abundant. Outliers, people far from the norm, can be found if anyone were to look hard enough. Even if someone weren't to look too hard, they'd probably find an outlier without even knowin' it. On the outskirts of town is one of these outliers, the sound of the clopping trots of a horse against the ground, the smell of arid sand in the air, and a blazing sun pourin down. A man sits atop his horse in this scene, most of his face hidden by the brim of his brown leather hat and silky maroon bandana, his clothes an open cloak of coal black cloth. He wears a dirty suit underneath the cloak, cut and torn in places, although not revealing any skin because of the cloak on top. His hands hold the reins tightly, wearing two different gloves, each strange in its own way. One glove is a stark white with a golden cross outlined in the silk, the other is a jet black with a five pointed star crafted into the leather. He doesn't speak as he rides, the six shooter on his belt strange in a way of its own, the many other trinkets jangling with every step of the horse. He rides into town, lookin' for somethin' or maybe someone.

 The guy vanishes, and appears behind Sparrow

 He turns and nods to them "Howdy pardner, where I'm from in ain't custom to appear behind folks."

 "I'll keep that in mind, I apologize."

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

The doors of the tavern open, and a chilly air comes in.

An 18 year old (or at least, looks like one) really hot guy with blood red hair and eyes that are the entire universe, just galaxies, nebulas, and starts, wearing a tuxedo walks in.

 Sparrow is sitting in the tavern, smoking an infernal cigarette, tipping his hat to the stranger out of respect, his glowing magic six shooter sitting on the table.

 *Intro so you know most of his appearance*

The world is a terribly diverse place, anyone can do anything with nearly no conceivable restriction, and even in the case there are some things stoppin' people, loopholes are surprisinly abundant. Outliers, people far from the norm, can be found if anyone were to look hard enough. Even if someone weren't to look too hard, they'd probably find an outlier without even knowin' it. On the outskirts of town is one of these outliers, the sound of the clopping trots of a horse against the ground, the smell of arid sand in the air, and a blazing sun pourin down. A man sits atop his horse in this scene, most of his face hidden by the brim of his brown leather hat and silky maroon bandana, his clothes an open cloak of coal black cloth. He wears a dirty suit underneath the cloak, cut and torn in places, although not revealing any skin because of the cloak on top. His hands hold the reins tightly, wearing two different gloves, each strange in its own way. One glove is a stark white with a golden cross outlined in the silk, the other is a jet black with a five pointed star crafted into the leather. He doesn't speak as he rides, the six shooter on his belt strange in a way of its own, the many other trinkets jangling with every step of the horse. He rides into town, lookin' for somethin' or maybe someone.

 The guy vanishes, and appears behind Sparrow

 He turns and nods to them "Howdy pardner, where I'm from in ain't custom to appear behind folks."

 "I'll keep that in mind, I apologize."

 He leans back and offers them an infernal cigarette inbetween two fingers "It ain't nothin' if you ain't mean it."

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

The doors of the tavern open, and a chilly air comes in.

An 18 year old (or at least, looks like one) really hot guy with blood red hair and eyes that are the entire universe, just galaxies, nebulas, and starts, wearing a tuxedo walks in.

 Sparrow is sitting in the tavern, smoking an infernal cigarette, tipping his hat to the stranger out of respect, his glowing magic six shooter sitting on the table.

 *Intro so you know most of his appearance*

The world is a terribly diverse place, anyone can do anything with nearly no conceivable restriction, and even in the case there are some things stoppin' people, loopholes are surprisinly abundant. Outliers, people far from the norm, can be found if anyone were to look hard enough. Even if someone weren't to look too hard, they'd probably find an outlier without even knowin' it. On the outskirts of town is one of these outliers, the sound of the clopping trots of a horse against the ground, the smell of arid sand in the air, and a blazing sun pourin down. A man sits atop his horse in this scene, most of his face hidden by the brim of his brown leather hat and silky maroon bandana, his clothes an open cloak of coal black cloth. He wears a dirty suit underneath the cloak, cut and torn in places, although not revealing any skin because of the cloak on top. His hands hold the reins tightly, wearing two different gloves, each strange in its own way. One glove is a stark white with a golden cross outlined in the silk, the other is a jet black with a five pointed star crafted into the leather. He doesn't speak as he rides, the six shooter on his belt strange in a way of its own, the many other trinkets jangling with every step of the horse. He rides into town, lookin' for somethin' or maybe someone.

 The guy vanishes, and appears behind Sparrow

 He turns and nods to them "Howdy pardner, where I'm from in ain't custom to appear behind folks."

 "I'll keep that in mind, I apologize."

 He leans back and offers them an infernal cigarette inbetween two fingers "It ain't nothin' if you ain't mean it."

 "I do mean it. Say, have you seen a 21 year old girl, blond hair, blue eyes?"

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

Quote from Asmodeusnumber1 >>

The doors of the tavern open, and a chilly air comes in.

An 18 year old (or at least, looks like one) really hot guy with blood red hair and eyes that are the entire universe, just galaxies, nebulas, and starts, wearing a tuxedo walks in.

 Sparrow is sitting in the tavern, smoking an infernal cigarette, tipping his hat to the stranger out of respect, his glowing magic six shooter sitting on the table.

 *Intro so you know most of his appearance*

The world is a terribly diverse place, anyone can do anything with nearly no conceivable restriction, and even in the case there are some things stoppin' people, loopholes are surprisinly abundant. Outliers, people far from the norm, can be found if anyone were to look hard enough. Even if someone weren't to look too hard, they'd probably find an outlier without even knowin' it. On the outskirts of town is one of these outliers, the sound of the clopping trots of a horse against the ground, the smell of arid sand in the air, and a blazing sun pourin down. A man sits atop his horse in this scene, most of his face hidden by the brim of his brown leather hat and silky maroon bandana, his clothes an open cloak of coal black cloth. He wears a dirty suit underneath the cloak, cut and torn in places, although not revealing any skin because of the cloak on top. His hands hold the reins tightly, wearing two different gloves, each strange in its own way. One glove is a stark white with a golden cross outlined in the silk, the other is a jet black with a five pointed star crafted into the leather. He doesn't speak as he rides, the six shooter on his belt strange in a way of its own, the many other trinkets jangling with every step of the horse. He rides into town, lookin' for somethin' or maybe someone.

 The guy vanishes, and appears behind Sparrow

 He turns and nods to them "Howdy pardner, where I'm from in ain't custom to appear behind folks."

 "I'll keep that in mind, I apologize."

 He leans back and offers them an infernal cigarette inbetween two fingers "It ain't nothin' if you ain't mean it."

 "I do mean it. Say, have you seen a 21 year old girl, blond hair, blue eyes?"

 He shakes his head “I’d tell ya I have, but I ain’t that good of a liar. I’ve only arrive here recent.”