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Darkness.
It was when all that he could love and trust was taken away from him. The process was slow — agonizingly so — but all so eventual all the same. It was when all he spent every waking breath protecting was instead so harshly torn away from him, and all he could think about was the anger, the hatred, the revenge that soon would riddle his heart. It slowly began to obscure all other inhibition until no one could save him.
A ruckus sounded across the dark sky.
It was the sound of hooves, and then a crackle from his handheld transceiver. ❝ Well, Mister Stirling? ❞ Brock Van Den Bergh’s blasé voice came from that very transceiver. ❝ You ought to get down here now. ❞
Upon the back of a grey horse, Edmund Stirling was bundled up warmly as a blizzard clouded the once clear sky. The wind howled as the cold snapped at his skin, eyes narrowed sternly and brows bunched together as his horse tread onwards with conviction. Hooves clapped against snow-blanketed cobblestone upon entering Flintlock Lodge’s village, in search of one thing only. He came alone, armed only with his trusty rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol holstered on his hip. A sharp, shaky exhalation passed flaring nostrils, eyes alight with a potency so intense that it nearly revealed his true emotions.
❝ They always say ❛ don’t shoot the messenger ❜, but— ❞ Eddie slowed his horse to a halt as he came face to face with Brock Van Den Bergh and three other men in the inner sanctum of Brock's loyalty. If there were such a thing. Stoicism was ever-present on Edmund’s face as he watched Brock slowly lift a Flintlock handheld transceiver up in victory, Ed then lowering his gaze to see the corpse of a Flintlock guard sprawled out across the ground — Edmund had originally sent him out to meet Brock at the village — the snow stained with the blood that trickled from a bullet wound in his chest. ❝ I think that really sends a clear enough message. ❞
❝ What do you want? ❞ Edmund darted his gaze back up to Brock, his comment earning a scoff from Brock.
❝ What do I want? Let’s see... ❞
❝ You can’t just stroll in, start killing my people, and then expect to bring the boy back home. ❞
❝ Can’t I? It seems that I’m doing just that. ❞ Brock remarked, head pulled back with a look of mild disbelief riddled across his face.
Eddie swallowed hard, head turning to the side as the corner of his eye subtly shifted up to the very top floor of the public library. A barrel of a sniper rifle was inconspicuous as it pointed out from an open window in the library. When the time was right, Edmund would give his associate the signal to fire. ❝ Perhaps. But the boy is currently under twenty four hour surveillance, so I propose we strike a deal. ❞
Brock tipped his chin upwards ever-so-slightly, as if intrigued. ❝ Meaning? ❞
❝ Meaning you walk away with the boy, and nobody else gets hurt… On one condition. ❞ Eddie asserted, face twitching slightly whilst he watched Brock shift in his saddle. Edmund’s plans were coming together perfectly. Whilst holding Jessie hostage had been something that he’d not anticipated, Edmund was beginning to believe that it had been in the best interest of his people. After all, the child was Brock’s weakness and luring Brock in would be the only thing that would keep not only Flintlock Lodge safe, but all groups on Bluestem Prairie’s radar safe from their brutality.
Today would be the day that Brock Van Den Bergh would be assassinated.
❝ I’d like for you to abdicate your position as Bluestem’s leader immediately. Roman Darrow will become the new leader. ❞
❝ My Second-in-Command that I recall you attempting to murder in his own home only a few months ago? ❞ Brock questioned curtly, frown present on his face suddenly. Eddie chose to respond with silence, gaze searching the other leader’s face. ❝ I thought as much. Mister Stirling, you must understand that I am very upset that you have chosen to hold hostage a boy, no older than a child. ❞
❝ He has been well taken care of. Brock, you cannot have power over Bluestem anymore. You’re… You’re a volatile megalomaniac. All of the things that you have done — to innocent people… You’ve crossed the line. ❞
Brock watched over quietly. And then, he huffed a slow breath of laughter. Edmund slowly shook his head, ❝ You killed one of my people. ❞
❝ And I’ll surely kill the rest of them! ❞ Brock then barked, his feigned amusement quick to wipe of his face as his anger soon began to make itself apparent. ❝ I have crossed the line? I… Have crossed the line?! No, no — I want you to acknowledge that he who fights by the sword, he dies by it! I steal from thieves and kill murders, as do you! So what line am I supposed to have crossed?! ❞ His voice raised with every word, lip curled with distaste as he stared over at the silent Edmund Stirling.
Brock moved his horse a couple of steps closer towards Edmund, enough to reach out and grab the other if he so wanted. ❝ I steal, you steal. I murder, you murder. We’re no different, you and I, except for one thing. I choose who I steal from. You… Your family… You destroy everything in your path just to claim that it’s yours. You kill, murder, god damn massacre the innocent and guilty for your own blue-blooded greed. So, careful how you look at me, Mister Stirling, and don’t dare try to tell me what line I ought to not cross. ❞
Nostrils flared, Brock glared across towards Edmund, Edmund working his jaw silently as he observed the older man. And then, he repeated sternly, ❝ It’s over now, Brock. You should resign from your position as Chief. ❞
❝ I’ll do no such thing. ❞
Edmund furrowed his brows, nodding slowly as he gave Brock a side-glance. ❝ Good... I preferred it this way. ❞ He looked back up to where his associate was posted in order to give him the signal to fire, but instead he was met with the top half of his associate lifelessly hanging out of the window, body bloodied. Eyes widened with alarm, his gaze swiftly darting back towards Brock where he was met with the end of four guns aimed Edmund’s way.
❝ You ought to make your way home. I believe you may have some unknown constituents there! ❞ Brock was suave as he pointed out. Edmund had been played. This was no serious discussion between the two leaders, but a distraction all along. Without Edmund nor his guards to protect the lodge, it was exposed for Bluestem ranchers to rescue the boy and ride away with another victory under their belt. Most importantly to Edmund, though, was the fear that — if Brock and his people were so willing to murder an innocent Flintlock guard, who else would Bluestem harm back up in the lodge?
Edmund tried to not reveal his fear as he wordlessly backed his horse up before turning and kicking the horse into a swift gallop back up towards the lodge. He didn’t even turn his head to see Brock and his crew turning to leave the village in triumph.
The race back uphill to the lodge was petrifying. Edmund always tried to come across as brave because when he was brave, it often influenced his people to be brave, but it felt so difficult when his heart was slowly caving in. He pushed on, removing his pistol from the holster and cocking the gun in preparation for a tragic ordeal. How many more of his people would have to die?
He slowed the horse to a halt once he reached the front of the lodge, leaping off before storming over towards confused Flintlockers. ❝ Where are they?! ❞ Edmund barked, pistol raised as he searched for the ranchers who would storm the lodge and kill them all. Brock’s words would forever play at his mind, eat away at the paranoia that settled uncomfortably within.
❝ Eddie, what is going on? ❞ The one Flintlock woman questioned with confusion, Ed panting through alarmed, parted lips before he slowly lowered his gun.
❝ The… The ranchers. ❞ He sounded deflated, muddled as eyes darted worriedly around the surrounding area. He gave the forest treeline a good, hard look. ❝ Where are they?! Why are they not here?! ❞ He hollered, the group of Flintlock people staring over at Edmund, bewildered. Edmund could only return their stare, eyes unnerved, before he turned to run towards the outbuilding where they kept Jessie locked away in the store room.
The one door of the outbuilding’s double doors was swinging from the power of each blizzardy gust of wind. Pistol raised again, Edmund cautiously approached the building before stepping inside. Eyes immediately looked towards the door which led to the store room, the door open wide with no sign of Jessie. He was gone. Next, Eddie turned his head to search the room.
He was dead, the man who’d been on duty to guard Jessie.
Edmund’s breath hitched in his throat, lips parted as he stared down at his older brother’s body slumped lifelessly on the ground, multiple deep puncture wounds across his torso. ❝ No, I— ❞ His throat was tight as he choked out, scrambling over towards the body and falling down at his side. There was no point in trying to search for any sign of life; the vacant blue eyes told him that Alfonso Stirling was already dead.
Hands were sticky with blood as Eddie rested his hand on Alfie’s chest, a sickening sound escaping through parted lips as he searched his brother’s absent face. This was how his world would end. Not with a sudden crash, but with the slow and steady deterioration of everything that he loved. Darkness was beginning to consume his whole world. Maybe Brock had been right all along; perhaps it was the Stirling curse to destroy everything in his path.
As he gasped onto breaths in a feeble attempt to compose himself, Edmund could feel the way every strand of strength within him was slowly snapping. In this life of his, shrouded with darkness, he could no longer see anything but his own anger, hatred, and revenge that had since riddled his heart.
Whilst some men found creation in this kind of destruction, Edmund Stirling just wanted to watch Brock’s world burn.
watch me crying in the club teehee. so, bluestem prairie has paid flintlock lodge a lowkey visit. they were very subtle in their rescue mission to save jessie, and used stealth to absolutely play flintlock. sorry for killing off one of my characters without warning! it has been coming for a long time and it was hard to keep quiet about it fhgjkfhgl anyways, feel free to track but please no ic replies!
Darkness.
It was when all that he could love and trust was taken away from him. The process was slow — agonizingly so — but all so eventual all the same. It was when all he spent every waking breath protecting was instead so harshly torn away from him, and all he could think about was the anger, the hatred, the revenge that soon would riddle his heart. It slowly began to obscure all other inhibition until no one could save him.
A ruckus sounded across the dark sky.
It was the sound of hooves, and then a crackle from his handheld transceiver. ❝ Well, Mister Stirling? ❞ Brock Van Den Bergh’s blasé voice came from that very transceiver. ❝ You ought to get down here now. ❞
Upon the back of a grey horse, Edmund Stirling was bundled up warmly as a blizzard clouded the once clear sky. The wind howled as the cold snapped at his skin, eyes narrowed sternly and brows bunched together as his horse tread onwards with conviction. Hooves clapped against snow-blanketed cobblestone upon entering Flintlock Lodge’s village, in search of one thing only. He came alone, armed only with his trusty rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol holstered on his hip. A sharp, shaky exhalation passed flaring nostrils, eyes alight with a potency so intense that it nearly revealed his true emotions.
❝ They always say ❛ don’t shoot the messenger ❜, but— ❞ Eddie slowed his horse to a halt as he came face to face with Brock Van Den Bergh and three other men in the inner sanctum of Brock's loyalty. If there were such a thing. Stoicism was ever-present on Edmund’s face as he watched Brock slowly lift a Flintlock handheld transceiver up in victory, Ed then lowering his gaze to see the corpse of a Flintlock guard sprawled out across the ground — Edmund had originally sent him out to meet Brock at the village — the snow stained with the blood that trickled from a bullet wound in his chest. ❝ I think that really sends a clear enough message. ❞
❝ What do you want? ❞ Edmund darted his gaze back up to Brock, his comment earning a scoff from Brock.
❝ What do I want? Let’s see... ❞
❝ You can’t just stroll in, start killing my people, and then expect to bring the boy back home. ❞
❝ Can’t I? It seems that I’m doing just that. ❞ Brock remarked, head pulled back with a look of mild disbelief riddled across his face.
Eddie swallowed hard, head turning to the side as the corner of his eye subtly shifted up to the very top floor of the public library. A barrel of a sniper rifle was inconspicuous as it pointed out from an open window in the library. When the time was right, Edmund would give his associate the signal to fire. ❝ Perhaps. But the boy is currently under twenty four hour surveillance, so I propose we strike a deal. ❞
Brock tipped his chin upwards ever-so-slightly, as if intrigued. ❝ Meaning? ❞
❝ Meaning you walk away with the boy, and nobody else gets hurt… On one condition. ❞ Eddie asserted, face twitching slightly whilst he watched Brock shift in his saddle. Edmund’s plans were coming together perfectly. Whilst holding Jessie hostage had been something that he’d not anticipated, Edmund was beginning to believe that it had been in the best interest of his people. After all, the child was Brock’s weakness and luring Brock in would be the only thing that would keep not only Flintlock Lodge safe, but all groups on Bluestem Prairie’s radar safe from their brutality.
Today would be the day that Brock Van Den Bergh would be assassinated.
❝ I’d like for you to abdicate your position as Bluestem’s leader immediately. Roman Darrow will become the new leader. ❞
❝ My Second-in-Command that I recall you attempting to murder in his own home only a few months ago? ❞ Brock questioned curtly, frown present on his face suddenly. Eddie chose to respond with silence, gaze searching the other leader’s face. ❝ I thought as much. Mister Stirling, you must understand that I am very upset that you have chosen to hold hostage a boy, no older than a child. ❞
❝ He has been well taken care of. Brock, you cannot have power over Bluestem anymore. You’re… You’re a volatile megalomaniac. All of the things that you have done — to innocent people… You’ve crossed the line. ❞
Brock watched over quietly. And then, he huffed a slow breath of laughter. Edmund slowly shook his head, ❝ You killed one of my people. ❞
❝ And I’ll surely kill the rest of them! ❞ Brock then barked, his feigned amusement quick to wipe of his face as his anger soon began to make itself apparent. ❝ I have crossed the line? I… Have crossed the line?! No, no — I want you to acknowledge that he who fights by the sword, he dies by it! I steal from thieves and kill murders, as do you! So what line am I supposed to have crossed?! ❞ His voice raised with every word, lip curled with distaste as he stared over at the silent Edmund Stirling.
Brock moved his horse a couple of steps closer towards Edmund, enough to reach out and grab the other if he so wanted. ❝ I steal, you steal. I murder, you murder. We’re no different, you and I, except for one thing. I choose who I steal from. You… Your family… You destroy everything in your path just to claim that it’s yours. You kill, murder, god damn massacre the innocent and guilty for your own blue-blooded greed. So, careful how you look at me, Mister Stirling, and don’t dare try to tell me what line I ought to not cross. ❞
Nostrils flared, Brock glared across towards Edmund, Edmund working his jaw silently as he observed the older man. And then, he repeated sternly, ❝ It’s over now, Brock. You should resign from your position as Chief. ❞
❝ I’ll do no such thing. ❞
Edmund furrowed his brows, nodding slowly as he gave Brock a side-glance. ❝ Good... I preferred it this way. ❞ He looked back up to where his associate was posted in order to give him the signal to fire, but instead he was met with the top half of his associate lifelessly hanging out of the window, body bloodied. Eyes widened with alarm, his gaze swiftly darting back towards Brock where he was met with the end of four guns aimed Edmund’s way.
❝ You ought to make your way home. I believe you may have some unknown constituents there! ❞ Brock was suave as he pointed out. Edmund had been played. This was no serious discussion between the two leaders, but a distraction all along. Without Edmund nor his guards to protect the lodge, it was exposed for Bluestem ranchers to rescue the boy and ride away with another victory under their belt. Most importantly to Edmund, though, was the fear that — if Brock and his people were so willing to murder an innocent Flintlock guard, who else would Bluestem harm back up in the lodge?
Edmund tried to not reveal his fear as he wordlessly backed his horse up before turning and kicking the horse into a swift gallop back up towards the lodge. He didn’t even turn his head to see Brock and his crew turning to leave the village in triumph.
The race back uphill to the lodge was petrifying. Edmund always tried to come across as brave because when he was brave, it often influenced his people to be brave, but it felt so difficult when his heart was slowly caving in. He pushed on, removing his pistol from the holster and cocking the gun in preparation for a tragic ordeal. How many more of his people would have to die?
He slowed the horse to a halt once he reached the front of the lodge, leaping off before storming over towards confused Flintlockers. ❝ Where are they?! ❞ Edmund barked, pistol raised as he searched for the ranchers who would storm the lodge and kill them all. Brock’s words would forever play at his mind, eat away at the paranoia that settled uncomfortably within.
❝ Eddie, what is going on? ❞ The one Flintlock woman questioned with confusion, Ed panting through alarmed, parted lips before he slowly lowered his gun.
❝ The… The ranchers. ❞ He sounded deflated, muddled as eyes darted worriedly around the surrounding area. He gave the forest treeline a good, hard look. ❝ Where are they?! Why are they not here?! ❞ He hollered, the group of Flintlock people staring over at Edmund, bewildered. Edmund could only return their stare, eyes unnerved, before he turned to run towards the outbuilding where they kept Jessie locked away in the store room.
The one door of the outbuilding’s double doors was swinging from the power of each blizzardy gust of wind. Pistol raised again, Edmund cautiously approached the building before stepping inside. Eyes immediately looked towards the door which led to the store room, the door open wide with no sign of Jessie. He was gone. Next, Eddie turned his head to search the room.
He was dead, the man who’d been on duty to guard Jessie.
Edmund’s breath hitched in his throat, lips parted as he stared down at his older brother’s body slumped lifelessly on the ground, multiple deep puncture wounds across his torso. ❝ No, I— ❞ His throat was tight as he choked out, scrambling over towards the body and falling down at his side. There was no point in trying to search for any sign of life; the vacant blue eyes told him that Alfonso Stirling was already dead.
Hands were sticky with blood as Eddie rested his hand on Alfie’s chest, a sickening sound escaping through parted lips as he searched his brother’s absent face. This was how his world would end. Not with a sudden crash, but with the slow and steady deterioration of everything that he loved. Darkness was beginning to consume his whole world. Maybe Brock had been right all along; perhaps it was the Stirling curse to destroy everything in his path.
As he gasped onto breaths in a feeble attempt to compose himself, Edmund could feel the way every strand of strength within him was slowly snapping. In this life of his, shrouded with darkness, he could no longer see anything but his own anger, hatred, and revenge that had since riddled his heart.
Whilst some men found creation in this kind of destruction, Edmund Stirling just wanted to watch Brock’s world burn.
watch me crying in the club teehee. so, bluestem prairie has paid flintlock lodge a lowkey visit. they were very subtle in their rescue mission to save jessie, and used stealth to absolutely play flintlock. sorry for killing off one of my characters without warning! it has been coming for a long time and it was hard to keep quiet about it fhgjkfhgl anyways, feel free to track but please no ic replies!
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I'M OUT OF MY MIND, REPLAYING THE SCENE