(Western Fantasy) Deadrock Town

[Necropolis]

Brad staggers back after breaking free of the larger man's grip. Brad wears a mask that he got from a traveling sales-person; it's not special, but it covers his face enough so that people don't know what he is, and he covered the left eye-hole with some wet clay that dried out.

"You're fast kid, but being fast ain't gonna save you. Gimme your money, or you'll regret it."
Brad scows at him and his three friends from under the mask.
I already told you, I don't have any!
The man chuckles before backhanding Brad with a closed fist, breaking the mask and knocking Brad face-down in the dirt.
Brad gets up and looks at them with his robotic left eye glowing red.
Now you've done it...
"What the hell?!"
"Let's get outta here boss!"
Brad watches as the brutes run away, one after another. He picks up the mask and tries to salvage something before scoffing and throwing it to the ground.
You'd better run! You big, stupid... stupid-heads!
Brad makes himself scarce, running into the nearest pub where the owner of the pub is busy wiping off the bar and a man in a tuxedo is sitting at a table closer to the stage drinking what's probably alcohol. Brad finds a table in the corner of the room, finding an abandoned sun hat. A lot of the normal residents are busy tending to their fields and livestock at this time of day, since most people are given farms when they arrive unless they're criminals, creatures, or others. The barkeep stops cleaning and comes over to Brad. She seems nice, and she's obviously dressed to please the male recipiants. She's probably 23 or 24, young enough to be quite the fine specimen but still old enough to know a fuck-boy when she see's him. She's got a thin frame but nice curves, she's about 5 foot 9, and with her blue eyes and brown hair, she makes a fair white skinned woman.
"Hey kid, are you lost? You look new in town, you some kinda orphan?
Yeah... Something like that... I'll be out of your hair soon.
The barkeep shrugs before going back and continuing her work on the bar.

 

[Beowulf]

"It won't do to be rude to someone you just met." a voice growled from behind the kid. Upon turning around, it would be revealed that the voice had come from an old man that had a smile that was practically splitting his face in two. "I'm just kidding. But seriously, don't cause Maggie over there to much trouble. She's got enough to worry about without having to look after a kid in her bar. Unless you aren't a kid. And if that's the case, I'll buy you a drink to make up for it. Unless you don't drink, there's a couple people in this town that won't drink. But then again, those people usually don't come to a bar. Oh, but where's my manners. Here I am talking about being rude and I haven't introduced myself. Names Connor McKinley. Connor James McKinley. Unofficial geezer of this here town." He offered his hand fora shake as he spoke, that smile never once even looking like it would leave. And the sparkle in his eye proved that the smile was genuine.

 

[Lonewolf888978]

Dread
The limp body hung over the rear end of the horse, the rider paying no mind to it as he got a few unwelcoming stares as he rode through town. A tattered and torn black cowboy was slanted down over the mans eyes, and a bandanna was pulled up over his rather bony face. A glove covered his right hand, but his left was pale white, and was clearly bone melded together.
It was hard disguising his appearance. Dread, the Undead bounty hunter, figured people would tend to be more tolerant of him if he wore clothes. He worked in Deadrock before, and many towns like it. Most of the locals recognized him, but that didn't mean they liked him. He was different, and most beings like him either craved human flesh or were under the thumb of a necromancer.
A man that was brave enough spit towards Dread, though it hit the ground a few meters away, Dread shook his head and chuckled.
He might be able to pass as a traveler, if it wasn't for his horse.
Crossbones gave a rough sounding neigh, smoke slipping out of his mouth as the demonic looking horse grew uneased at all the eyes looking at him as he came to a stop infront of his destination.

A dwarf took a step out of the Deadrock Jail, one hand on his belt as he eyed the bounty hunter, the other held a dirty mug. A copper star read "Deputy" on the dwarfs chest.
'Notha bounty Dread, or yah just here to cause trouble?
Another bounty Horace. Clyde Crimp, ex-leader of the now disbanded Crimp Killers.
Dread slipped off his horse and landed on the road, a cloud of dust blowing away in the wind. The gloved hand of Dread pulled the bounties body onto the ground, with a loud thud.
Damn it Dread! The reward for Crimp was alive!
Pay up half man.
Dread growled at the man who grumbled before tossing Dread a bag of coins. Turning Dread whistled, and Crossbones neighed before riding off out of town. Ignoring the glares, the undead man made his way to the closest bar, pulling the bandanna off his face as he went. He didn't need to drink liquor, it didn't give him a buzz nor did he even need to consume anything for that mater. It just made him remissness of his old life.
Get me a bottle Maggie. The good stuff, not that garbage you keep behind the counter.
He said aloud, before taking a seat in the darkest corner of the room.
​

 

[Necropolis]

Brad shakes Connor's hand with his human hand, but didn't smile like he did.
Brad... Brad Hart... It's nice to...
Brad's words fade off, unintentionally showing his shyness around strangers. Brad tugs lightly on the brim of the overly large hat to make sure it still covered his face, worried more about Connor seeing his eye than his face.
Brad sinks even lower into his seat as another man walks in. He felt unclean as he spoke to the barkeep, who's name was apparently Maggie. She throws her washcloth into a wash-bin as she goes into a back room. She comes out and sets down a good sized bottle of booze with a smirk.
"Here you are sir, today's special, garbage from behind the counter. That'll be two bits, per bottle."
Brad smiles a bit at Maggie's quip, but when he looks at the man, he can't help but feel full of... Dread.