you and whose army? — FL vs BP fight .

[EDMUND.]

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]tw. battle, death, violence, gore

He’d fill graveyards until he could reach Brock Van Den Bergh. Jaw was clenched tight, body clad in dark flannel as he stood in the prairie, rifle loaded and held in both hands close to his torso. Among him stood the rest of the fighters of the lodge, nerves setting in as they watched two patrols on horseback galloping back to Alexandra to warn the rest of their group about the imminent fight. This was a big one, the final fight Eddie would hope as he watched stoically with careful eyes and slightly furrowed brows. ❝ Be ready. ❞ Eddie’s voice was louder than usual as the commanded the group sternly.

In minutes time, they would be at war, their lives at risk for the chance to end this once for all. But, the risk had to be taken; Eddie could not keep families apart to protect the vulnerable members of Flintlock Lodge for much longer. They had lost so much in the name of what? What was all of this fighting for? All because of a power-hungry silver fox with the desire to clutch onto any ounce of control? People like him were a danger to all lives, Eddie had come to realise, and Ed would do anything in his power to make sure Brock wouldn’t live to see the end of this day — the same went for any other Bluestem rancher with the same extreme ideals of a survivalist's regime.

A loud explosion sent a dark billow of smoke mushrooming into the sky, Eddie narrowing his eyes slowly. It was exactly as he’d expected; with their weapons destroyed, Flintlock now had the upper hand. Wishful thinking had Eddie hope that the people of Alexandra would approach in surrender, realising that Flintlock would always be around to quash their lawless ways, but Eddie knew better than to be optimistic. These people played dirty, they were rotten and vicious like rabid creatures; they wouldn’t go down without a fight. And so, Eddie observed the horizon warily  yet well-prepared, hands trembling lightly with anticipation. Soon, he raised his head as he watched a crowd of ranchers approaching, armed with weapons raised to fire.

❝ Hold your fire. ❞ Eddie instructed, lifting his rifle and peering down the scope to have a better look at their approaching enemies, until a rancher initiated gunfire. ❝ Fire! ❞ Eddie barked before he pulled the trigger, downing a rancher instantly. Soon, he rushed to seek protection behind a rock, glancing over towards his brother, Tommy, crouching behind one of the wagons that Flintlock had brought along to act as cover. Tommy looked to Eddie, nodding his head shortly as if to wordlessly tell Eddie that he was ready for whatever plan the brothers had formulated. Then, eyes widened with alarm to see William running passed towards Alexandra, taking cover every few seconds to catch his breath before sprinting again into the town itself. What the hell was he doing?! Shaking his head with disbelief, Eddie took a sharp breath before revealing himself, taking several shots before his gaze landed on Brock Van Den Bergh himself, riding in on a horse.

Brows furrowed, Eddie waiting for the right moment before following the leader as Flintlock began pushing Bluestem back into Alexandra. Using the side of a barn for shelter, Eddie caught his breath before stepping out again to search for the Chief. He could stand and fight with the rest, but he and Tommy had already agreed that Tom would hold fort with the rest of them whilst Eddie would go to hunt Brock down. Without the heart of their regime, Bluestem Prairie would crumble. Rifle in position to fire at any give moment, Eddie tread through the Alexandra carefully. Now, where the hell had Brock Van Den Bergh gone?

[BROCK.]

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]He awoke with a flinch to the sound of an explosion, head lifting before peering out his bedroom. The gunsmith was in flames, the alarmed leader quickly sitting up before his brows bunched together. ❝ Goddamn— ❞ That was when he saw Flintlock in the distance, Brock staring with parted lips before he stumbled up to his feet. Whilst he was in absolutely no position to be able to stand and fight — still recovering from his injuries to the point he was barely able to walk — he couldn’t sit back without doing something. Whilst Brock was not a good man by any stretch of the imagination, lazy and more than willing for his people to fall in his stead, Brock felt obliged to at least show his face, shoot a couple of these good-for-nothing Flintlockers down. Stumbling over as he rushed to his wardrobe, Brock dressed himself before using his crutches to hurriedly limp out of Sweetwater Farm and around the back to the stables.

❝ Lets go now, boy. ❞ Brock tried to keep his cool as he swiftly tasked Prospector up, tossing his crutches aside before hauling himself on top of his stallion’s back with a pained grunt. Without a moment to spare, Brock threw the reins forward, only using one leg to urge his horse into a gallop, the Thoroughbred, speeding through Alexandra as he joined his people towards the back for the fight. He halted Prospector, the horse’s front legs leaving the ground slightly, as Brock looked towards the fighters at the front. Eben stood towards the front, shotgun raised as he fired into the crowd of Flintlockers, whilst Frank hid behind a crate with a glock in his hand, worried yet determined all the same.

❝ Dad?! ❞ Cassidy’s voice exclaimed from nearby, Brock looking towards where his eldest son rushed over, rifle in hand. ❝ You’re injured, why are you here? ❞ ❝ What else am I supposed to do, son? Sit at home? ❞ Cassidy grimaced, shaking his head slowly, ❝ Sometimes I feel like you want to get yourself killed. ❞ With that, Cassidy powered ahead out of Alexandra to join the frontline.

With sneering features, Brock removed his pistol from its holster, bringing Prospector to a gallop as Brock rode closer towards the Flintlockers, firing his pistol multiple times towards the crowd, a couple of NPCs falling to the ground. Prospector’s nostrils flared, the whites in his eyes showing as he swung his head back as Brock fought. That was until a bullet whirred passed him, Brock whipping his head around to see the one and only William Stirling crouching on the roof of the general store with a grin on his lips, sniper rifle aimed and ready to send another bullet Brock’s way. ❝ Goddamn snake! ❞ Brock shouted at the top of his lungs, voice cracking with the strain before he rode Prospector around the back of Alexandra so that William would lose sight of him. When William was least expecting it, Brock would send a bullet in his skull.

[pandora m.]

There was a lot going on at once, but when the fighting started Jessie and Billie stayed together. They figured if someone went after some kids, better to be together, right? They thought so at least, but it didn't save them. It all happened so fast, Billie feeling something wet on her and her collapsing into Jessie who pulled his gun out and shot the npc who had gotten his sister.

"I didn't see him-" "I didn't either, the bastard came up behind us" He thought she was stabbed, but if that was the case then whatever had stabbed her was still in her. You don't remove it, he knew that much. The one-eyed boy held his older sister to him, covering her ears with his chest and hand before yelling for someone to get Cassidy. They were somewhat secluded, but Jessie made sure his gun was loaded and backed them into a corner. He would keep them safe until Cassidy came.

"Go Jess" "Not until Cass comes" "You're no help here. Go." she argued, grabbing her own weapon as if to try and show she wasn't as in as much pain as she was. Jessie eventually would leave, but only after Billie told him to get Cassidy. She knew whatever happened it was in her back, she couldn't sit against anything, but she couldn't stand either. So she sat there watching, waiting.

//this is bad but...   

[spoiler=TAGS 1/16]
I'm waking up at the start — general
▪ Billie "The Kid" | Billie, Bill, Other Kid | open to nicknames
▪ AFAB | Identifies as female | she/her
▪ 19 | Born January 27th | ages real time
▪ member of Bluestem Prairie

of the end of the world — physical
♦ Health: 90%
— She stands at 5'7", making her the same height of her brother. She has long blonde hair that goes to about her chest and is usually up or in braids. She tends to wear flannels and a lot of black clothes. She has striking darker blue eyes and wears a dog tag necklace that once belonged to her father though it has the added tags of her mother which Billie made. 
— minor injuries: see icon
— major injuries: n/a

But its feeling just like — important events
— 12/5/40 Reunited with her brother, Jessie
— 11/9/40 Joined Bluestem Prarie

every other morning before — personality
— Billie is a kid with a knack for explosives - she knows how to build, disarm, and set them off. Like her brother, she can be a bit chaotic, but being the older of the two she's more likely to be trying to keep her brother in line. She's quick to fight, regardless of the situation.
— Sisterly, Fighter, Smart
— Fighter, Knowledge of Explosives, Chaotic

Now I wonder what my life — relationships
▪ brock's best friend x best friend's wife | deceased
      ↳ Older sister to Jessie "James"
▪ Biromantic | Questioning | Polyamorous 
▪ Single | Crushing on no one | Maybe Crushing on no one
▪ Has some weird family-like relationship with The van den Bergs

is going to mean if it's gone — interaction
— Physically intermediate | Mentally intermediate
— Uses knife when possible, otherwise uses gun
— More skilled in close range
— No killing and ask before major injuries or major interactions
— To attack, [member=9567]Noccy[/member] & attack in #8A8ECE
[/spoiler]

[JOSEPHINE]

[align=center][div style="width: 400px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; font-family: calibri; letter-spacing: .6px; color: #494949;"]as the frontlines set up, joey found a spot a few meters behind where she could hide out, picking off anyone who made it through and eventually creep forward, into alexandra to further deal with the ranchers. she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly to gather herself. she knows there's probably people out there to get her, looking for her specifically. with eddie's yell, she peaks from her spot behind a tree, noticing a rancher bolting towards their backline. who did this man think he is?

she hops out of her spot, throwing a knife into his back, watching him fall. boot on his back, joey pulls the knife out of his back with a goulish grin. if it's between her or ranchers, it'll be her each and every time. josephine steps back into her hiding spot, wiping the blood off her knife, onto her pants. this has been fun, the whole lying in wait thing, but she has a preference to get a little personal with victims. accustomed to kissing them before killing them, getting the perfect seat to watch their eyes grow dull while the body drops.

while peaking out from behind her tree, joey picks the nearest building in alexandra to move to. moving in the open is a weakness for her, a hyper fixation placed on her destination, forgetting that without cover, she’s got a big target on her back. this little forty meter dash is no different, she fails to check who may have seen her while in the open as she reaches the building. she presses the small of her back to the wall, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.


// anyone can have their character have seen joey and gone of her, getting into a little scuffle. minor injuries being free range for her.


[spoiler=tags, updated 02/07/2021]◜BASICS ┊ I HAD A DREAM◞
&. ❝ josephine elena van doren ❞ |  joey, hoey | female [ she/her ] .
&. 22 years old . | november first ; scorpio .
&. reaper of flintlock lodge .

◜PERSONALITY ┊ GOT EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED◞
&. impulsive . outgoing . femme fatale . flirtatious . seemingly emotionless . guarded . self-destructive . obsessive . hot headed . reckless . kleptomania tendencies . selfish . brat .  assertive . loyal to those close to her . intuitive . stubborn . passionate . self-preserving . quick . nosey . reliable . non-committal . determined . secretive . resentful . resourceful . distrusting .

◜ APPEARANCE ┊ NOT WHAT YOU THINK ◞
&.  five foot six & one hundred and seventeen pounds ; reference .
↳ blonde hair just past her collarbone, grows a dirtier blonde, lightening up as soon as any sun touches it .
↳ slim, muscular build. legs on the longer side .
↳ big blue/green doe eyes, light yet well-groomed eyebrows, full lips, dimples .

◜ INTERACTIONS ┊ AND IF I’M BEING HONEST ◞
&.  [ 8/10 ] physically  |  [ 9/10 ] psychologically .
↳ difficulty w/ guns [ medium ] | difficulty w/ melees [ hard ] | difficulty w/ hand-to-hand [ hard ]
↳ combat information .
&. attack in bold #990000 | [member=570]scully[/member] | PM for any major plots .
&. friendly or nonviolent actions may be powerplayed .

◜INVENTORY ┊ IT MIGHT’VE BEEN A NIGHTMARE◞
&. [ 2 ] weapons | [ 0 ] armor pieces | [ 0 ] consumables | [ 2 ] aid items | [ 1 ] misc .
↳ one combat knife .
↳ a three piece throwing knife set
↳ a bracelet from her late mother, each one of her sisters has a piece to the same set, their mother having the biggest piece

◜ RELATIONSHIPS ┊ TO ANYONE WHO MIGHT CARE◞
&. elizabeth van doren (npc) x malcolm van doren (npc) | second youngest of nine children .
↳ cassian van doren, eldest, flintlock .
↳ beau van doren, second eldest, unknown .
↳ range rover van doren, unknown & scarlett van doren, dead .
↳ auden van doren, unknown & tara van doren, dead .
↳ maxine van doren, just older than joey, flintlock .
↳ richard van doren, youngest, flintlock .
&. pansexual, panromantic ; mongamous  . | scared of commitment, however enjoys casual fun .
&. lover to william stirling
↳ reoccurring friends with benefits.
↳ parents to rosalie willa van doren, five months old .
&. lover to theodore knope
↳ partner in the badlands
&. crushing on cassidy van den bergh[/spoiler]

[david benson.]

it is empty achilles, so end it all now
it's a pointless resistance for you

---

The explosion was more than enough to send the man scrambling. He covered his ears and let out a loud shout in the meantime, startled by the sudden noise. He didn't like it. David lifted his head, feeling frustrated and angry as more noises followed suit, and with Brock's horse suddenly swallowing the light filtering in through the front window. There had to be an attack, David realized quickly and shakily. There had to be. He stood up, his legs felt like jelly. He didn't want to be here. His stomach twisted and he put his hand over his mouth before he breathed through his nose slowly. Roxanne had come sprinting down the stairs, panic in her eyes.

"Dad!" She shouted, and David let out a noise which was quickly drowned out by the sound of a bullet whizzing through the window and barely hitting David. Roxanne ran back upstairs, quickly finding a bat she had managed to steal and came back down, testing the weight in her hands. David studied her with fear in his eyes and she smiled at him. "I've got ya, pa." She turned and ran out the front door, finding the one who shot through their window and swinging the bat.

David turned from the window and looked around for something, anything he could use to protect himself. "Rox-" He mumbled, trying to get her to return. He didn't like her being outside. "Roxanne!"

She did not come back.

---

achilles, achilles, just put down the bottle
don't listen to what you've consumed

---

[spoiler=//tags -- updated ;; 08/01/21]
general
> david benson ;; n/a
> male ;; he/him
> 35 years ;; ages real time ;; may 15th
> bluestem prairie

physical
> physical health ;; 85%
> minor injuries ;; a few scrapes
> major injuries ;; n/a
> important things to note ;; david has a bad skin condition that causes his body to break out into mass acne ; his face, shoulders, and back get the worst of it ; has burn scars on his arms

appearance
> long, brown hair ; pale brown eyes ; rather large with a strongman physique ; 7'6" ; just over 400 lbs
> no body modifications
> wears anything loose ; big, white shirt that's stained with dirt and sweat ; sweatpants that are also stained with dirt
> no carried items
> important things to note ;; his wisdom teeth have all grown in in clumps ; he has no back teeth

personality
> very friendly ; hesitant around strangers ; difficult to gain his trust ; general sweetheart ; likes to compliment people ; very protective of his daughter ; very self-less and usually lets people eat before he does ; awkward with forced interactions ; prefers to be the one to start conversations ; very laid back
> anxiety ; autism ; separation anxiety
> eyebrows twitch a lot

relationships
> margaret benson x charles benson ;; parents - alive
> mary-anne (mary) benson ;; sister - alive
> lavania masters ;; girlfriend - deceased
      > passed in a house break-in
> roxanne benson ;; daugher - alive
> demisexual ; panromantic
> no crushes

interaction/confrontation
> medium mentally | easy physically
> non-violent power play allowed
> will not attack/kill/maim/capture without asking the author
> do not kill/maim/capture without asking me (timothy)
> if you want to attack, use this colour (red) and underline it

misc importance
> "this is him talking." ;; his speech is in bold
> this is him thinking ;; thoughts are in italics
[/spoiler]

credit @ kenneth

[SAINT BERNARD]

[align=center][align=center]

a

THE TIRED SOLDIER

[b][i]bernard smith. this was not something bernard wanted, he didn't ever want to be sucked into yet another war, but here he was, strapped with a gun and his heard hammering so hard he thought he might keel over from a heart attack. he barely ducked in time as a bullet fired from a pistol whizzed by, dropping to the ground as if he where dead. he laid there for a moment, really wishing he could just run.

he wasn't a coward though, was he? bernard knew better than to run from a fight. he sat back up and shook his head, deciding to go after the assailant who nearly shot him. he snuck around and weaved through the wagons from flintlock, avoiding a few bullets until he had a clear path to where the pistol wielder had disappeared to. bernard could see the horse, and so with a final duck behind cover, he gathered up the courage and sprinted after, having to suck up the pain in his knee that started to scream as he ran.

he really was getting old, wasn't he?

bernard pushed onward, until he could see the man and the horse clearly. "stop!" he yelled. "stop right there, or i shoot you!" he snapped, cocking his rifle to aim at the other man's head.

"speech."

[spoiler=//tags -- updated ;; 09/01/21]
general
> bernard smith ;; saint bernard, bernie
> male;; he/him
> 47yrs ;; ages real time ;; december 15th
> flintlock lodge

physical
> physical health ;; 75%
> minor injuries ;; frostbite on fingers, a few bruises
> major injuries ;; n/a
> [i]important things to note ;; n/a

appearance
> thick and short grey hair ; dark blue/green eyes ; average, def a dad bod, rounder stomach ; 5'9" ; 240 lbs
> no body modifications
> a white shirt with suspenders ; black pants ; usually wears a heck ton of jackets if he's cold
> pocket change ; cigarettes ; a photo of his wife and son
> important things to note ;; scar on left side under ribs ; missing a toe or two

personality
> very honest ; stubborn ; sympathetic ; comes across as airy or non-present ; in his head often ; quick-witted ; think first, act after
> PTSD
> no tics

relationships
> oliver smith x dianne smith ;; dianne - deceased ; oliver - deceased
    > henry passed from cancer
    > dianne passed from natural causes
> no siblings
> heterosexual
> no known crushes
      > widow, wife was jillian williams - deceased ; passed from a raid in home
          > son was warrin - deceased ; passed from a raid in home

interaction/confrontation
> medium mentally | medium physically
> non-violent power play allowed
> will not attack/kill/maim/capture without asking the author
> do not kill/maim/capture without asking me (timothy)
> if you want to attack, use this colour (red) and underline it

misc importance
> "this is him talking." ;; his speech is bolded
> this is him thinking ;; thoughts are in italics
[/spoiler]

[COLT MADISON.]

[align=center][div style="width: 370px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.4; color: black;"]— Now this was Colt's element.

It all felt so familiar - the rifle in his hands, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the looming threat of the unknown. This was what he had spent his entire life training for - combat. Combat in war specifically? Ok, maybe not. But it was all the same in the end; there were people on the other side of this field, and he had to get through them. Despite his nerves, his head felt calm and clear for the first time in weeks. It was like he was back in training again; he didn't have to think - just fight.

The young mercenary stood beside Eddie as the captain initiated the battle, ducking down behind a wagon once the first few shots were fired. Crouching, he pushed inward, doing his best to keep behind cover. He very much preferred close-quarters combat with his pistols over ranged shooting with his rifle - but it would be difficult to cross the whole battlefield in order to do that. Colt dropped to his knees behind a massive log, aiming his rifle at an NPC Bluestem soldier about fifty years away and shooting him right through the chest. Colt watched his lifeless body crumple before scanning for a safe path.

/ feel free to engage with colt, minor injuries can be power played !

[BROCK.]

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Nostrils flared as Brock whipped his head around in search for a clean line to shoot the Stirling from. Pain tore through his lower limb as Prospector’s fiery canter rocked him to and fro; whilst he felt obliged to participate in the fight, it felt near impossible to do so without a firm grimace across pained features. Two healing injuries in which he should have been nursing left to ignite with the pain of the fight all over again.

This felt much like his old gang days.

Reins whipping over to one side, Prospector dodged out of the way instinctively as a man stepped out to face Brock, rifle cocked and aimed at his head. If the man were to fire point blank, Brock would be a dead man. Prospector shuffled to a halt, front legs lifting off the ground and muzzle twitching as he snorted worriedly, giving Brock enough time to have a long, hard look towards the man before he realised. Grimace faltered, his face falling as he was confronted with a face from the past. A man who had been his friend for longer than anybody else had known him for. A man who knew Brock right from his childhood, understood his motivations and his pain.

He almost choked on his breath.

❝ Hello, Bernard. ❞ Brock spoke softly, voice cracking as he stared at a man he considered one of his few friends with a gun pointed at him. A toothy yet emotionless smile tugged at his lips, Brock slowly leaning back into the saddle as he then said, ❝ We must stop meeting like this. ❞ He would not make sudden movements, unaware whether Bernard would turn on a good friend now or leave Brock be. How was it that their paths could never align the way Brock had hoped?

[SAINT BERNARD]

[align=center][align=center]

a

THE TIRED SOLDIER

[b][i]bernard smith. when the man stopped, bernard quickly cocked the gun and pushed it closer to the man. he had gone for so long without seeing brock. he had been through so much- the war, losing his wife and his child- it clouded his brain with grief and memories he wished he no longer held. he wished he could just have his old life back. he choked on his breath and took a step back when his name was spoken.

"w- how- y-," he stuttered, taking a brief moment before it clicked into place. "brock? you son of a bitch." he breathed, taking his rifle's aim away from him and turning the safety back on. "i thought you were [i]dead."

bernard couldn't fight the smile that wormed it's way onto his face, even if he tensed his jaw and tried to keep his mouth a thin line. he didn't want anyone to see him smiling like this, he didn't want flintlock to know he knew brock. he'd be a dead man for sure if that happened. he glanced around quickly before looking back up at brock.

"are you th- you lead bluestem?" he asked, quickly, nervous.

there was one very stark difference between the two, and that had possibly made them the best of friends then--bernard was the anxious one of the two, constantly thinking and looking out. brock was bold, and bernard always had to run after him to make sure he wouldn't get himself hurt. now look at us, bernard hesitated. brock was now a leader and bernard was nothing but a leech clinging on to the end tails of an enemy group because he had been left so scarred that he couldn't take care of himself.

"speech."

[spoiler=//tags -- updated ;; 09/01/21]
general
> bernard smith ;; saint bernard, bernie
> male;; he/him
> 47yrs ;; ages real time ;; december 15th
> flintlock lodge

physical
> physical health ;; 75%
> minor injuries ;; frostbite on fingers, a few bruises
> major injuries ;; n/a
> important things to note ;; n/a

appearance
> thick and short grey hair ; dark blue/green eyes ; average, def a dad bod, rounder stomach ; 5'9" ; 240 lbs
> no body modifications
> a white shirt with suspenders ; black pants ; usually wears a heck ton of jackets if he's cold
> pocket change ; cigarettes ; a photo of his wife and son
> important things to note ;; scar on left side under ribs ; missing a toe or two

personality
> very honest ; stubborn ; sympathetic ; comes across as airy or non-present ; in his head often ; quick-witted ; think first, act after
> PTSD
> no tics

relationships
> oliver smith x dianne smith ;; dianne - deceased ; oliver - deceased
    > henry passed from cancer
    > dianne passed from natural causes
> no siblings
> heterosexual
> no known crushes
      > widow, wife was jillian williams - deceased ; passed from a raid in home
          > son was warrin - deceased ; passed from a raid in home

interaction/confrontation
> medium mentally | medium physically
> non-violent power play allowed
> will not attack/kill/maim/capture without asking the author
> do not kill/maim/capture without asking me (timothy)
> if you want to attack, use this colour (red) and underline it

misc importance
> "this is him talking." ;; his speech is bolded
> this is him thinking ;; thoughts are in italics
[/spoiler]