Sonnet of a Damned Cowboy (Vash and Demontongue

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Vash, Mar 4, 2015.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. "Another great day in paradise, right Rachael?"
    Another hot day, if you asked the copilot of "The Boss": Rachael L. Cannon. She just shook her head inside the cockpit and kept monitoring the cameras. The inside of The Boss was rather nice and roomy, enough room for both Rachael and the pilot, Jack Callahan, to have leg space, arm space, head space, and plenty more room to breathe. They just couldn't stand up. The walls were a dark blue color, matching the exterior, with black seating and a dark orange canopy. Various knobs and switches and doohickeys covered console in front of each seat, the back seat having several screens in the walls and the back of the front seat that showed cameras placed around The Boss' exterior. Plus a cup holder. Rachael herself was a calm, shy girl. Shoulder-blade length brown hair, gray eyes, and a relatively clean completion outside of her cheek bones full of freckles. She was lithe, weighing in at maybe 125 and was about 72 inches tall, coming in at 6 foot. She had small features to accompany this and had lightly tanned skin. A small nose and pointed face as well. She, unlike the battle-worn jack, was in good shape. Wearing a light weight black shirt with dark orange sleeves, knee-length black and orange skirt, black stockings, and black combat boots. She tended to dress to ward people away, regardless of the heat. It didn't bother her much anyway.

    Jack on the other hand was a bit messier. Wearing a dark blue, oil splotched, button up shirt with a light gray light jacket covered in a hexagonal pattern. The collar was up and covered his neck. Jack was a little bit shorter than Rachael, 66 inches, or 5.6 foot. He had short black hair, messy and unkempt, with stark blue eyes and grizzled facial features. 5 o'clock stubble, pock marks on his chin, slightly squared jaw and normal sized nose. There were a few scars on his face, small and mostly minor except for an inch long 2-nailed claw scar on his right cheek. He was rather buff and athletically fit, but the biggest thing about him was his legs. Everything from the knees down was made of metal from a strange raider attack from his training days. Mostly covered by his black slacks and matching combat boots, he had to keep them clean regularly.

    The Boss, the name of the Lancer Mech Jack was the proud pilot of, was an N-93 Dire Wolf, a much bigger and deadlier cousin of the mainline Wolf Lancer. Dark blue in color, it's armor was covered in heat-reflective plates of heavy armor. Most of the undercarriage was light colors, offsetting the blue to continually stave off the sun. The Dire Wolf was well equipped, dual Vulcan 40MM cannons on the top that swiveled to the aim of the co-pilot, shoulder mounted super-shotguns, armor piercing-sharp fangs in the mouth of the Lancer and on the end of each foot, and a railgun located in the tail. Few things were deadlier.

    The direwolf was frontman in "Delta Squad", one of the many Lance-protected Caravans that roamed the Atlantic desert. A band of brothers and sisters that put their lives on the line every day to make sure that no city goes without. Delta Squad consisted of four Lancer drivers and one armored bus driver. Kelly and Charlie sat in "The Y2K", a beetle inspired artillery cannon carrying lancer that provided long range detection. Trevor Hanson walked the easy life in his "Steel Cog" walker, hefting the biggest loads that their truck driver, Amelia Godwin, couldn't, and...wait, where was she? They had a fourth driver around here somewhere....


    The group was on their way towards a small town named Harbor, built on the ashes of what was probably a city that actually rested on the Ocean, the people live within a small cove built into a canyon. Unfortunately for Delta Squad, there was nothing but the endless sand ocean around them and a single road carving a path forward that they had to constantly watch, lest the sands cover up the well beaten path and they never reach their destination.

    "So. Amelia." Jack had clicked the button on his dashboard that let him open communications with the rest of the group. His dashboard was much like Rachael's, but with a large dual-gripped joy-stick that let him control The Boss and fire it's weapons with ease. Foot pedals below the dash let him control it's movements. "What do you say to getting a drink after we get to Harbor? I hear their cheese is great!" The woman that answered back, Amelia, sounded annoyed and tired all at the same time. The Caravan drivers often had long stretches of time where they didn't sleep and were known to be, as Jack tends to call them, "Bitchy." "Yes, Jack, the cheese is great. We're the ones hauling it...and the answer is no." "Aww, but come on-" A thwack in the back of the head from the co-pilot's seat had Jack shut his yap rather quickly. Rachael tended to keep his flirty attitude in check, much to his displeasure. Amelia cut the communications line shortly after Jack was thumped in the head and he just sighed.

    The thump to the head must have gotten the hamster in his head running as he suddenly remembered that their fourth Lancer Driver was nowhere to be found. He opened communications with the whole group and spoke. "Hey, has anybody seen our fourth? Could have swore I saw him a few minutes ago...."
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.