Just updating things: I currently have a cold and feel awful. I also won't be free from a bunch of real life obligations until tomorrow evening. Hopefully after that I can more regularly post.

It's all cool! Drifter is just kind of chilling, and won't be comeing out till night fall, or shit hits the fan. Which ever happens first.

I've been helping get someone through their Ph.D. and that stuff is all over with tomorrow. Much less stressful.

@Innue I have a few questions(two!) before I join. I am very interested in joining

What are your questions?

What are your questions?

@Innue
Well, first, I'm really active, but sometimes my mom takes my phone away so I might randomly disappear for a week or so. Could I still join?

Also, I wanted my girl to be a bounty hunter. But I wanted to know if maybe my characters gun, pistol, would be able enchanted (or inscribed with a spell) so it's bullets would be basically concentrated magic from the users power(like their magic reserve)

<Snipped quote by Innue>

@Innue
Well, first, I'm really active, but sometimes my mom takes my phone away so I might randomly disappear for a week or so. Could I still join?

Also, I wanted my girl to be a bounty hunter. But I wanted to know if maybe my characters gun, pistol, would be able enchanted (or inscribed with a spell) so it's bullets would be basically concentrated magic from the users power(like their magic reserve)

Both matters are fine.

@Innue

Thanks! I'll make my character

@Innue

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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Maire Courtsia

【Alias】
Dead Bolt

【Gender】
Female

【Age】
23

【Sexuality】
Straight

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【Personality】
Dead Bolt, since she was a little girl, has always had a bit of a flaming, aggressive temper. She is easily set off. Even by a cough. Any glances that she finds suspicious will be called out on. While At the mention of any sort of demon, this aggression becomes worse than it probably ever should be allowed to. To find were any sort of bandits are hiding out, she will not hesitate to torture or kill those who refuse to give her the information in which she wishes for.
Even though she grew up being hateful. Over the years this hate has grown worse and worse. Everything to her is a curse. She loves nothing, and no one. Save it be her horse, who no longer has the childish name that Maire had given the Mare. Nothing in the world is good. Not even the youngest child, or the simplest of animals. They are all disgusting disgraces. An accident in the eyes of god for their sins and transgression. She even has a kindling hatred towards herself. For her sins. Despite her young age when her family and Racheal had been attacked. She has convinced herself that she could have done something to save them. That she should have at least died by their side, fighting until the bitter end. She knows that god could never forgive her. She has fallen into to deep a pit.

Her body could easily be referred to as an empty shell. With no mercy or sorrow. Only the dangerous emotion of Rage. Mercy seems to have never played a very large part in her life at any given time. But especially now, in this dark time of her sinning life. It seems that were ever she goes. Bodies litter her path. And not all of them are demons. As stated earlier, her temper is very easily burst. And normally, the people she gets into disagreements with are killed. She has no patience for any kindness. If she were to find a starving man in the desert, even a starving child. She would most likely leave them. Though, if by some slim chance, they reminded her of one of her siblings. Even if she had a argument with herself about what to do, she would end up helping them out, just a little.

Dead Bolt does not actually talk a lot. She only talks when spoken to. Her voice is rasping and it nearly sounds painful for her to talk. But it has a biting and vicious edge to it. And edge that makes it clear one should not mess with her. If one was to provoke her into speaking. It would most likely be because they were dumb enough to anger her.


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【History】
I was to young and naive to at first realize the dangers that would pass by in the many years that were to come. Being of the young age of 6, I knew little of the world. I simply knew the old western farm life that my family thrived on. My knowledge of the crystals that protected us in the settlements was scarcely known. Nothing other than bedtime stories that Ma or Pa would share to me. I was even more unaware of the dangerous monsters the crystals protected us from. The demons that would devour any human, no matter how defenseless or innocent, in the blink of an eye. Demons were something I knew as horrific creatures. Creatures that my older brothers, Johnathan, Mark, and Rex, always used to try to frighten the younger siblings, like myself, with. But these stories were always hushed by Ma and Pa. Making me come to believe at the age of five, that there were no such thing as demons. They were only the imaginary beasts my brothers used to try and scare me with.
When I turned six, the town we lived near was starting to grow and expand. Calling for more land to build on. My families farm was prime real estate. Although the exact negotiations made by my Pa and the major are nothing but wisps of whispers faded in the back of my mind now. I can still remember how my father broke the news to us. All 13 kids. That we would be leaving in a weeks time from the only place we’d ever known.
“Ma!” Maxwell shrieked as he wobbled out of the puddle of thick mud. His brown hair stained with filth. While his tan skin was caked in a powerful smelling layer of something that was definitely not just mud. “Maire, gone pushed me in pig poop!” I glared crossly at my younger brother, of four years old, as he stumbled out of the pig waste and towards the house. Where our mother was peacefully rocking on the porch. Sewing up some old clothes that had gotten a fistfull of holes in them. I was certain I would be in trouble, being guilty of the crime that I was accused. Stumbling to my own two dirty bare feet. I rushed out from the puddle of crap, smelling as fiercely as rotting eggs. “Na-uh!” I cried as I began to gain on my brother. Hoping to outrun him to our mother. I was six, two years older than him. And would surely beat him to the steps. But Ma had heard his squeal first. “He had fallen Ma!”
As I had guessed, I made it to the old wooden steps first. And stopped to look up at our Ma. Waiting for what she had to say about the ‘injustice’. She simply smiled, her blue eyes laughing. “Oh you two,” She chuckled warmly. “Now you’ve gone and got yourselves all dirty” Ma’s voice was soft and sweet. Smooth like honey. Only it wasn’t sticky like honey. I always imagined her voice to be like hot chocolate. Warm and Sweet. “Ma! She pushed me!” Maxwell exclaimed again. Pointing to me accusingly. I felt my cheeks swell up red, and my fingers curled into fists. Even though I had pushed him, I didn’t want to be found guilty. “Calm down Max” Our Ma said softly, causing my fists to relax, and Max’s accusations to stop. “You two were play’n in the mud.” She explained “And y’all dirty. Go get cleaned up in the tank, than we’ll talk.”
No one questioned or argued with Ma. Not even Pa. Maxwell huffed in frustration as he stomped off to the pond to get washed off. While I stared at my Ma for a moment longer. Her hair was curly and so pretty to my little blue eyes. Pa said I had Ma’s hair. And I was proud of that. I loved my curls, that naturally faded from red, to orange, than at the bottom’s held yellow. It reminded me of fire. And Pa called me his little Flaming Bolt. Flaming Bolt was a name for a horse, not a little girl. So I always called Pa silly when he said that.
After washing up, my punishment was nothing more than simply apologizing to my younger brother, and having to help Ma with supper. “We’re have’n mashed potatoes and pork” Ma informed me when I asked what we would be making. She set down a stool at the sink, so I could reach it on my tippy toes. “Now clean them potatoes” She said, her demand warm and comforting. I clambered onto the stool. It wobbled beneath my feet, and I clung onto the wooden counter, afraid of falling. Once the stool settled, I went to work. Scrubbing the dirt off the of the potatoes, and cleaning off any extra roots. The cleaning didn’t take long, and after Ma had put the pork over the fire, I had already finished. “Thanks hon,” Ma said as she hugged my tiny waist, and pecked my cheek. “Can I go play with Lydia now?” I begged, growing a bit restless. Ma’s laugh was like the giggling of fairies, making me smile. “Of course, thank you for your help.”
“No Lydia” I scowled the three year old, for getting to close to the fire, as we sat near the fireplace. It’s golden light shimmering through the house. Casting warmth through the cold, night had brought. My stomach was pleasantly full with mashed potatoes and sweet sugared pork. Making me feel a bit drowsy. All thirteen kids had been gathered in the living room by Ma and Pa. Racheal was sitting next to Ben, and Tom, chatting about the crops. Being the oldest they always talked about weird things like that. Nichole was rocking Maxwell, as he sleepily rested against her chest. Rex, Johnathan, and Mark were chatting to Sofia, Sally, and Anne. Probably about racing horses or cows. It’s what the six always talked about.
“Listen here kids” Pa announced, his deep voice almost as warm as Ma’s. “We’re moving.” Pa had always been blunt. But this was something that should have been eased into. The room instantly went quiet. And I felt my heart nearly freeze. “You have to be kidd’in” Ben blurted, glancing back and forth between Ma and Pa. “Why we move’n? We’ve lived here our entire life” The oldest pointed out. Speaking the thought that had passed through all the children’s head.
Pa sighed, and Ma nodded slowly. “We’re going to be going to the city. To work and live at the stables there” She explained, but I didn’t want to hear any bit of it. I loved my home. I didn’t want to leave it. But the land had already been sold. We would have to be out by the end of the week. We didn’t have the choice to stay.
Lydia wiggled on the saddle in front of me. Bubbling in excitement as we left our farm lands behind. “Lydia, stop you’re mov’n around!” I commanded my little sister as I struggled to stay on the back of the horse. Rocking back and forth as the roan mare walked alongside the wagon. “Or Strawberry will buck us off” Although that was a big fat lie. I simply wanted my sister to stop wiggling around. Grumpy was an understatement of one of the many moods I was in. I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before. As a little girl, the lack of sleep had taken a toll on me. Leaving me feeling icky inside, and being snappy and grumpy towards everyone and everything. Luckily for the sanity of my parents however, I knew better than to start whining. My younger sister listened to my rude comment, and did not take the mean tone to heart. She simply stopped squirming, as much, and began to hum a little song that Ma had thought all us as kids.
“Maire, don’t be so rude towards your little sis” Racheal said bluntly as she rode up on her white Stallion to riding alongside the two of us. “Moving from our farm is hard for y’all of us.” I glared up at my sister. I knew that she was right. However, I wanted my Ma and Pa to see how mad this made me. So that they could know that they’re decision had hurt all of us. Not just the older kids.
“But Racheal, it ain’t fair!” I grumbled stubbornly, glancing down at the shadows that cast over the sandy ground. “Life ain’t fair” Racheal pointed out to me “You just gotta make the best of it sis, or you’ll live miserably” She explained as she glanced up at the blue sky. The sky swirled with white swirls of white cotton. Bright and cheerful. I hated how happy the sky seemed to be. Couldn’t it see that I was angry?
The traveling was long and dull. Although my older siblings helped to distract us from the burning sun that beat against our little dirty shirts and dresses. Racheal played eye-spy with us. And guess the animal. It helped the time crawl by a little faster.
“Pa, aren’t you gonna sleep?” I asked curiously as I walked over in my nightgown. The sun’s light had disappeared beneath the piecing mountains. While it’s warmth still lingered in the stale desert air. The only light that curled its fingers around the camp, was the camp fire’s brilliant glow. My Pa glanced down at me, his bright eyes gleaming underneath the starlight. “Of course Maire” He told me, patting my head with his callous, but gentle, giant hand. “Now go to your sisters and fall asleep.” His rifle leaned against a wooden stump just next to him. But I paid little attention to it. Figuring it was nothing to question or think about. Pa, and the three oldest all had their own guns. And Ben and Racheal carried their pistols everywhere.
Everyday we traveled from sun up, to sun down. Then tied the horses up and let them rest for the night near the fire. My father never went to bed with the rest of us. And sometimes, Ben or Tom would accidentally wake me as they stood up to go outside. Holding their own guns close to them. I just figured they had to go to the bathroom. I never considered that they were protecting us from anything. Until the sixth night. When we had made it nearly three quarters of the way there.
It was the sound of a scream that made us all jump to our feet. Waking us up instantly from our feet. My eyes still felt heavy with sleep, and I could only make out the red eyes of the creatures lurking in the dark. “Tom!” Ma shouted, I glanced to see what had happened, but was suddenly pulled away by Racheal. “Maire don’t look!” She snapped quickly getting to her feet, and drawing her pistol. I tried to glance to where my Ma had rushed to, crying the name of her son. But Racheal didn’t let me see! She wouldn’t. “Let go Racheal!” I yelled “Maire! Please b-” She started to say when it seemed everything broke. It was as if the gates of hell had been opened. The camp was rushed, by tall, strange beasts. With pointing horns on their heads, sharp teeth, and blood red skin. They wore torn blood stained clothes, their laugh chilling and horrible. Their eyes were black, and lifeless. Not even the light of the campfire reflected from them, they seemed to swallow in the light. One of them tackled Rex, sending him crashing back to the ground. I screamed for my brother, but found my own scream was cut short by his own. As more of the ugly creatures leapt onto him, I could see splatters of blood painting the desert sand. Racheal’s hand tightly grasped my wrist, pulling me behind her towards the horses. She acted as though she couldn’t hear the screams of Rex, or Sally, who were crying and screaming for help as the monsters mauled them.
I heard the loud, flashing bang of Ben’s pistol, and my head snapped to see he was standing near the wagon, his hand grasping the reins of Strawberry and Racheal’s white Stallion. Keeping them from running in fear of the demons. While his other hand skillfully aimed and fired at any demon that got to close. No matter how many he shot down. There seemed to be an endless wave of them crashing from the darkness. “Racheal!” Ben shouted over the noise of snarling and screams. “Get on Blizzard!” He snapped, clearly there was no room for argument. Racheal nearly threw me on top of Strawberry, and then hopped onto Blizzard herself. “Ben get on!” She begged, grabbing the reins from her brother as the horse fritted nervously. Ben shook his head “No, I gotta save Lydia!” He yelled over another gun shot as a demon rushed at them. But at the gun shot, it flopped to the ground bleeding and lifeless.
Before Racheal or I could argue against his final statement, he slapped the rear of Strawberry so hard, that the sound rung in the air like one of his gun shots. The world swirled around us as the horses dashed off into the darkness. Rushing passed all the demons that lurked in the dark. I could hear them trying to chase after us. But the horses were too fast.
Even after we arrived at the city, and took our place at the stables, I still had nightmares. Every night, I woke up screaming. Images of Rex or Sally lingering in my head, of the demons ripping their skin off from their skulls. Racheal comforted me in the night. Telling me it would be okay. That the nightmares would pass. If we remembered our families for the moments they had been alive. Not when they had been dying.
When I turned 10, Racheal began to go out into the desert. As a bounty hunter. It paid better than at the stables. And I was now old enough to be left alone. I would spend my days working in the stables, taking care of the horses and doing whatever the stable master told me to do. The longest Racheal would be gone was two days and one night. On the nights she would be gone I slept in the stables. With Strawberry, so that I wouldn’t be alone. I was still afraid of being alone. Racheal brought me back little presents and rare things she would find on her journeys. A arrow head, rocks, a sea shell even! And she always stayed home for a few days before leaving again. So that meant that she could train me. I loved going out to the shooting range, and firing off a few shot. Until I was twelve, I could barely even hit the target. But by the age of 14, I could hit a perfect bullseye. That’s when Racheal decided I was ready to go out on my first adventure with her.
We rode underneath the blazing heat of the summer sun. My hat casted a shadow over my face, making it a bit cooler. Strawberry walked along in a easy pace, my body swaying from side to side as we rode. “So what we look’n for again?” I asked my older sister, glancing over at where she rode Blizzard. Racheal smiled, her face that held new scars from her adventures, just as bright and loving as Ma’s had been. She knew I had waited to go with her forever. I wanted to seek a thrill now. “A family Heirloom. An expensive necklace, that some demon bandits have gotten their hands on.” She explained to me once again, even though I knew what we were looking to. I felt an odd sense of pride that we were hunting down demons. “Will it be easy?” I asked as we rode along. “Should be” Racheal informed me, clicking her heels, she urged Blizzard to move faster.
It was only a two hour ride from the city, to the abandoned town. Where the necklace was suppose to be. We rode down the main street. Wind creaking through the old wooden buildings. Whistling through bottles that rolled in the sand. The heavy stench of death was in the air. I could recognize that foul scent anywhere. “Where would they be?” I whispered to my sister. Not wanting to alert anything of our arrival. “I don’t know for sure” She whispered back gently, glancing around the town with her sharp eyes. Racheal never seemed to miss a thing. Except for what a mistake this had been.
They emerged from the shadows of the buildings, molding out of the darkness like phantoms. Their sharp teeth gleamed in the sunlight. I gulped, feeling a wave of fear wash over me. Racheal spun Blizzard around, to find that the demons had began to close in on all sides. She quickly drew her gun. And I drew mine. Racheal had given me her own gun, while she had taken a new gun from the shops in the city. I was loaded and ready to fire. But fear grasped at me with it’s cold fingers. I was frozen. Even with the gun in my hand, I felt afraid and helpless.
Their laughing was hideous and dry, chatting among themselves in another language I could not understand. But it sounded like they were speaking of how well they would eat that night. Strawberry skitted frantically beneath me, knocking me from my thoughts. Racheal was the first to fire, and I followed. The demon‘s surged forward, clawing at Strawberries feet. I tugged back on the reins to get her away from their claws. But i only bumped into more demons. More and More of them emerged from the buildings. And it came to me that no matter how many we shot down, we would go down before they were all dead.
“Maire!” Racheal snapped over her shoulder, for a moment I swore I heard Ben’s voice. Back on that night eight years ago. Shouting at us to run. “Run!” she slammed her hills down on Blizzard’s bell. Who reared, knocking demons of their feet. And flew forward. Strawberry followed. The demons swelled behind us like one giant wave of evil. Snarling and howling with the excitement of the hunt. “Don’t look back Maire!” Racheal shouted to me as the horses galloped down the street, I quickly looked forward, concentrating on the road underneath Strawberries nimble feet. A gun shot. Blizzard cried in pain and suddenly I heard a thunder crash next to me. I yanked on Strawberries reins. Causing her to instantly stop and turn. Racheal was pinned beneath her dying Stallion as blood leaked from a gun wound in his side. “Racheal!” I yelped, about to jump off my own horse. “Don’t your dare get off that horse!” She nearly roared, I had never heard her sound so… threatening. “But Racheal!” I cried, I could fear tears swelling in my eyes. The wave of demons was crashing closer and closer each second. And would be upon us in seconds. “Get out of here!!!” She yelled at me, suddenly picking up a bullet sized rock and chucking it at Strawberry. The rock hit my mare’s side. And before I could do anything, my horse was rushing forward. And I could do nothing about it. I tried not to listen to the horrific sounds of Blizzard’s cry as he was ripped apart. Or my sisters stifled scream as she tried her best not to.
As the years went on, my heart seemed to grow colder. The burning hate I had for any demon kindled into what had become a bomb fire. At the age of twenty I went to a gun smith, and requested for a pistol like my sisters, to match. However, he could not completely make a gun as unique as my sisters. So I had to settled for having a fixed spell engraved into it. When I was 19, a demon clawed my right eye, causing it to go blind. While when I was 20, a gang of them mauled me, resulting in horrific scars down my neck and across my lower jaws. And Now, at the age of 23, I travel alone, in search of revenge for my family.

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】

Her number one trusty steed is a strawberry roan mare, named BloodRose. She calls her Bloody for short. When Dead Bolt was a little girl, and still going by the name of Maire, her father gave her a little filly for her 3rd birthday. Being a little girl, of course the filly was named Strawberry. But when Dead Bolt became a bounty hunter, and changed her name, she changed Strawberries as well. Bloody is roughly twenty years old. Yes, she is an older horse now, but that doesn't mean she can't run as fast as she ever could. She is a tall and elegant female. With a white top, that fades to a rusty red-pink around her belly, legs and feet. Her mane and tail are long and flowing. Always well combed thanks to Dead Bolt. Her mane and tail are black, with streaks of white throughout the thick hair. Bloody's muzzle is black, while the bottom of her chin is speckled with splashes of white. From her poll, to the top of her ears, there is thick stripes of grey. Her eyes are gentle and sweet, a beautiful brown. Her legs are scarred up from battles that she has followed Dead Bolt into. Her saddle is made of cow hide, polish to a fine dark brown. It is a western saddle. The seat is a lighter than the rest of the saddle. While the horn tied onto it, was a bulls horn, sanded down to a smooth bulb. She has a double sided saddle pack behind the seat, tightly secured and holding all of Dead Bolts few belongings. The breastplate is made out of fine bone that has been smooth so it would not hurt her. Bloody is loyal to Dead Bolt, and loves her companion greatly. She has a gentle heart and a sweet spirit. She is the sort of horse that would allow a child to hug her legs, or a cat to sit on her back. Nearly complete opposite of her companion.

Dead Bolt has a long lasso of rope she keeps attached to Bloody's saddle. Incase she needs of it. Her rope is nothing special. Something that anyone could by at any general store. But it is starting to get torn up from use, and the blood stains on it's golden threads are very clear.

Her dagger is rather old, although Dead Bolt can not be sure on how old it really is. She took it off of a bandit that had tried to knife her, and had paid for his mistake with his life. And his dagger. It is a steel blade, polished to perfection. And sharpened to the correct sharpness for Dead Bolt's liking. It is wrapped in leather. So old that is it starting to crack. And when she gets the chance, she plans on replacing it with something nicer and newer. Her dagger often sits in a little place in her right boot.

Her matching set of pistols are not so matching as one might think. They both look identical, except for the inscriptions that covered the barrel and handle of the guns. The spells that are inscribed are Lightning and Fire. The one that had once been her sisters, is the pistol in which she favors. With the spell of Lightning. When the gun is fired, the magic energy, resinating inside of the user, is drained out and shot out from the barrel of the gun. In a condensed, bullet like form. This gun was made by her great grandfather, and inscribed with the spells by her great grandmother. It has helped her family for many generations, and helped her grandfather settle the farmland that she had grown up in. Her other pistol, is nearly the same. Only it produces condensed bullets of magic, in the form of fire.

(Is this good? Tell me what I need to change, (also tomorrow I will draw a colored pic of her and add it to her profile)

@Silen Syanka: I'd like to see a fully fledged paragraph for the personality, as well as some more clarification on precisely what the pistol does.

Magic works as such: Everybody has an inherent "mana" pool that is quite small. The nature of magic in the world of Devil's Storm is mostly Alteration, imbuing physical objects with other properties, and that's what most people should focus on (Innue can give further clarification when he's feeling better). Crystals have their own "mana" pools which can be tapped into, and while they are not limitless they vastly enhance an individual's ability to cast spells.

For a weapon such as your own, I (personally) would expect a significantly more fleshed out history and personality with explanations as to how/why it was made, etc. because it's very similar to the style of weapon that myself and The Wanderer have elected to use. Ours are more complex than yours, so I wouldn't hold you to that standard, but I'd like to see a more in order to feel comfortable giving you a crystal to begin with.

@Tuujaimaaokay! After work I will get going on fixing that

@Tuujaimaaokay! After work I will get going on fixing that

If you want the restrictions laxed, you can simply have ordinary bullets that are charged with electricity. That would be easier to justify.

@Tuujaimaa thanks, but I would like to have the bullets be magic directly from the user condensed into bullets, i think it would be cooler X3 Would I just have to explain, how the weapon was made, the spell, and how the it makes the magic into bullets?

It would be challenging to meet such a requirement without a crystal, and the justification for the existing characters with crystals is A) Quality of Bio, and B) Use of crystal carving that locks the crystals into use of that spell and that spell alone. I'll leave the finer points up to Innue, but I'd expect to see a very well fleshed out character in order to obtain that sort of power.

@Tuujaimaaokay, I'll work on her to make her up to standard

@Innue

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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
【Full Name】
Maire Courtsia

【Alias】
Dead Bolt

【Gender】
Female

【Age】
23

【Sexuality】
Straight

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【Personality】
Dead Bolt, since she was a little girl, has always had a bit of a flaming, aggressive temper. She is easily set off. Even by a cough. Any glances that she finds suspicious will be called out on. While At the mention of any sort of demon, this aggression becomes worse than it probably ever should be allowed to. To find were any sort of bandits are hiding out, she will not hesitate to torture or kill those who refuse to give her the information in which she wishes for.
Even though she grew up being hateful. Over the years this hate has grown worse and worse. Everything to her is a curse. She loves nothing, and no one. Save it be her horse, who no longer has the childish name that Maire had given the Mare. Nothing in the world is good. Not even the youngest child, or the simplest of animals. They are all disgusting disgraces. An accident in the eyes of god for their sins and transgression. She even has a kindling hatred towards herself. For her sins. Despite her young age when her family and Racheal had been attacked. She has convinced herself that she could have done something to save them. That she should have at least died by their side, fighting until the bitter end. She knows that god could never forgive her. She has fallen into to deep a pit.

Her body could easily be referred to as an empty shell. With no mercy or sorrow. Only the dangerous emotion of Rage. Mercy seems to have never played a very large part in her life at any given time. But especially now, in this dark time of her sinning life. It seems that were ever she goes. Bodies litter her path. And not all of them are demons. As stated earlier, her temper is very easily burst. And normally, the people she gets into disagreements with are killed. She has no patience for any kindness. If she were to find a starving man in the desert, even a starving child. She would most likely leave them. Though, if by some slim chance, they reminded her of one of her siblings. Even if she had a argument with herself about what to do, she would end up helping them out, just a little.

Dead Bolt does not actually talk a lot. She only talks when spoken to. Her voice is rasping and it nearly sounds painful for her to talk. But it has a biting and vicious edge to it. And edge that makes it clear one should not mess with her. If one was to provoke her into speaking. It would most likely be because they were dumb enough to anger her.


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【History】
I was to young and naive to at first realize the dangers that would pass by in the many years that were to come. Being of the young age of 6, I knew little of the world. I simply knew the old western farm life that my family thrived on. My knowledge of the crystals that protected us in the settlements was scarcely known. Nothing other than bedtime stories that Ma or Pa would share to me. I was even more unaware of the dangerous monsters the crystals protected us from. The demons that would devour any human, no matter how defenseless or innocent, in the blink of an eye. Demons were something I knew as horrific creatures. Creatures that my older brothers, Johnathan, Mark, and Rex, always used to try to frighten the younger siblings, like myself, with. But these stories were always hushed by Ma and Pa. Making me come to believe at the age of five, that there were no such thing as demons. They were only the imaginary beasts my brothers used to try and scare me with.
When I turned six, the town we lived near was starting to grow and expand. Calling for more land to build on. My families farm was prime real estate. Although the exact negotiations made by my Pa and the major are nothing but wisps of whispers faded in the back of my mind now. I can still remember how my father broke the news to us. All 13 kids. That we would be leaving in a weeks time from the only place we’d ever known.
“Ma!” Maxwell shrieked as he wobbled out of the puddle of thick mud. His brown hair stained with filth. While his tan skin was caked in a powerful smelling layer of something that was definitely not just mud. “Maire, gone pushed me in pig poop!” I glared crossly at my younger brother, of four years old, as he stumbled out of the pig waste and towards the house. Where our mother was peacefully rocking on the porch. Sewing up some old clothes that had gotten a fistfull of holes in them. I was certain I would be in trouble, being guilty of the crime that I was accused. Stumbling to my own two dirty bare feet. I rushed out from the puddle of crap, smelling as fiercely as rotting eggs. “Na-uh!” I cried as I began to gain on my brother. Hoping to outrun him to our mother. I was six, two years older than him. And would surely beat him to the steps. But Ma had heard his squeal first. “He had fallen Ma!”
As I had guessed, I made it to the old wooden steps first. And stopped to look up at our Ma. Waiting for what she had to say about the ‘injustice’. She simply smiled, her blue eyes laughing. “Oh you two,” She chuckled warmly. “Now you’ve gone and got yourselves all dirty” Ma’s voice was soft and sweet. Smooth like honey. Only it wasn’t sticky like honey. I always imagined her voice to be like hot chocolate. Warm and Sweet. “Ma! She pushed me!” Maxwell exclaimed again. Pointing to me accusingly. I felt my cheeks swell up red, and my fingers curled into fists. Even though I had pushed him, I didn’t want to be found guilty. “Calm down Max” Our Ma said softly, causing my fists to relax, and Max’s accusations to stop. “You two were play’n in the mud.” She explained “And y’all dirty. Go get cleaned up in the tank, than we’ll talk.”
No one questioned or argued with Ma. Not even Pa. Maxwell huffed in frustration as he stomped off to the pond to get washed off. While I stared at my Ma for a moment longer. Her hair was curly and so pretty to my little blue eyes. Pa said I had Ma’s hair. And I was proud of that. I loved my curls, that naturally faded from red, to orange, than at the bottom’s held yellow. It reminded me of fire. And Pa called me his little Flaming Bolt. Flaming Bolt was a name for a horse, not a little girl. So I always called Pa silly when he said that.
After washing up, my punishment was nothing more than simply apologizing to my younger brother, and having to help Ma with supper. “We’re have’n mashed potatoes and pork” Ma informed me when I asked what we would be making. She set down a stool at the sink, so I could reach it on my tippy toes. “Now clean them potatoes” She said, her demand warm and comforting. I clambered onto the stool. It wobbled beneath my feet, and I clung onto the wooden counter, afraid of falling. Once the stool settled, I went to work. Scrubbing the dirt off the of the potatoes, and cleaning off any extra roots. The cleaning didn’t take long, and after Ma had put the pork over the fire, I had already finished. “Thanks hon,” Ma said as she hugged my tiny waist, and pecked my cheek. “Can I go play with Lydia now?” I begged, growing a bit restless. Ma’s laugh was like the giggling of fairies, making me smile. “Of course, thank you for your help.”
“No Lydia” I scowled the three year old, for getting to close to the fire, as we sat near the fireplace. It’s golden light shimmering through the house. Casting warmth through the cold, night had brought. My stomach was pleasantly full with mashed potatoes and sweet sugared pork. Making me feel a bit drowsy. All thirteen kids had been gathered in the living room by Ma and Pa. Racheal was sitting next to Ben, and Tom, chatting about the crops. Being the oldest they always talked about weird things like that. Nichole was rocking Maxwell, as he sleepily rested against her chest. Rex, Johnathan, and Mark were chatting to Sofia, Sally, and Anne. Probably about racing horses or cows. It’s what the six always talked about.
“Listen here kids” Pa announced, his deep voice almost as warm as Ma’s. “We’re moving.” Pa had always been blunt. But this was something that should have been eased into. The room instantly went quiet. And I felt my heart nearly freeze. “You have to be kidd’in” Ben blurted, glancing back and forth between Ma and Pa. “Why we move’n? We’ve lived here our entire life” The oldest pointed out. Speaking the thought that had passed through all the children’s head.
Pa sighed, and Ma nodded slowly. “We’re going to be going to the city. To work and live at the stables there” She explained, but I didn’t want to hear any bit of it. I loved my home. I didn’t want to leave it. But the land had already been sold. We would have to be out by the end of the week. We didn’t have the choice to stay.
Lydia wiggled on the saddle in front of me. Bubbling in excitement as we left our farm lands behind. “Lydia, stop you’re mov’n around!” I commanded my little sister as I struggled to stay on the back of the horse. Rocking back and forth as the roan mare walked alongside the wagon. “Or Strawberry will buck us off” Although that was a big fat lie. I simply wanted my sister to stop wiggling around. Grumpy was an understatement of one of the many moods I was in. I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before. As a little girl, the lack of sleep had taken a toll on me. Leaving me feeling icky inside, and being snappy and grumpy towards everyone and everything. Luckily for the sanity of my parents however, I knew better than to start whining. My younger sister listened to my rude comment, and did not take the mean tone to heart. She simply stopped squirming, as much, and began to hum a little song that Ma had thought all us as kids.
“Maire, don’t be so rude towards your little sis” Racheal said bluntly as she rode up on her white Stallion to riding alongside the two of us. “Moving from our farm is hard for y’all of us.” I glared up at my sister. I knew that she was right. However, I wanted my Ma and Pa to see how mad this made me. So that they could know that they’re decision had hurt all of us. Not just the older kids.
“But Racheal, it ain’t fair!” I grumbled stubbornly, glancing down at the shadows that cast over the sandy ground. “Life ain’t fair” Racheal pointed out to me “You just gotta make the best of it sis, or you’ll live miserably” She explained as she glanced up at the blue sky. The sky swirled with white swirls of white cotton. Bright and cheerful. I hated how happy the sky seemed to be. Couldn’t it see that I was angry?
The traveling was long and dull. Although my older siblings helped to distract us from the burning sun that beat against our little dirty shirts and dresses. Racheal played eye-spy with us. And guess the animal. It helped the time crawl by a little faster.
“Pa, aren’t you gonna sleep?” I asked curiously as I walked over in my nightgown. The sun’s light had disappeared beneath the piecing mountains. While it’s warmth still lingered in the stale desert air. The only light that curled its fingers around the camp, was the camp fire’s brilliant glow. My Pa glanced down at me, his bright eyes gleaming underneath the starlight. “Of course Maire” He told me, patting my head with his callous, but gentle, giant hand. “Now go to your sisters and fall asleep.” His rifle leaned against a wooden stump just next to him. But I paid little attention to it. Figuring it was nothing to question or think about. Pa, and the three oldest all had their own guns. And Ben and Racheal carried their pistols everywhere.
Everyday we traveled from sun up, to sun down. Then tied the horses up and let them rest for the night near the fire. My father never went to bed with the rest of us. And sometimes, Ben or Tom would accidentally wake me as they stood up to go outside. Holding their own guns close to them. I just figured they had to go to the bathroom. I never considered that they were protecting us from anything. Until the sixth night. When we had made it nearly three quarters of the way there.
It was the sound of a scream that made us all jump to our feet. Waking us up instantly from our feet. My eyes still felt heavy with sleep, and I could only make out the red eyes of the creatures lurking in the dark. “Tom!” Ma shouted, I glanced to see what had happened, but was suddenly pulled away by Racheal. “Maire don’t look!” She snapped quickly getting to her feet, and drawing her pistol. I tried to glance to where my Ma had rushed to, crying the name of her son. But Racheal didn’t let me see! She wouldn’t. “Let go Racheal!” I yelled “Maire! Please b-” She started to say when it seemed everything broke. It was as if the gates of hell had been opened. The camp was rushed, by tall, strange beasts. With pointing horns on their heads, sharp teeth, and blood red skin. They wore torn blood stained clothes, their laugh chilling and horrible. Their eyes were black, and lifeless. Not even the light of the campfire reflected from them, they seemed to swallow in the light. One of them tackled Rex, sending him crashing back to the ground. I screamed for my brother, but found my own scream was cut short by his own. As more of the ugly creatures leapt onto him, I could see splatters of blood painting the desert sand. Racheal’s hand tightly grasped my wrist, pulling me behind her towards the horses. She acted as though she couldn’t hear the screams of Rex, or Sally, who were crying and screaming for help as the monsters mauled them.
I heard the loud, flashing bang of Ben’s pistol, and my head snapped to see he was standing near the wagon, his hand grasping the reins of Strawberry and Racheal’s white Stallion. Keeping them from running in fear of the demons. While his other hand skillfully aimed and fired at any demon that got to close. No matter how many he shot down. There seemed to be an endless wave of them crashing from the darkness. “Racheal!” Ben shouted over the noise of snarling and screams. “Get on Blizzard!” He snapped, clearly there was no room for argument. Racheal nearly threw me on top of Strawberry, and then hopped onto Blizzard herself. “Ben get on!” She begged, grabbing the reins from her brother as the horse fritted nervously. Ben shook his head “No, I gotta save Lydia!” He yelled over another gun shot as a demon rushed at them. But at the gun shot, it flopped to the ground bleeding and lifeless.
Before Racheal or I could argue against his final statement, he slapped the rear of Strawberry so hard, that the sound rung in the air like one of his gun shots. The world swirled around us as the horses dashed off into the darkness. Rushing passed all the demons that lurked in the dark. I could hear them trying to chase after us. But the horses were too fast.
Even after we arrived at the city, and took our place at the stables, I still had nightmares. Every night, I woke up screaming. Images of Rex or Sally lingering in my head, of the demons ripping their skin off from their skulls. Racheal comforted me in the night. Telling me it would be okay. That the nightmares would pass. If we remembered our families for the moments they had been alive. Not when they had been dying.
When I turned 10, Racheal began to go out into the desert. As a bounty hunter. It paid better than at the stables. And I was now old enough to be left alone. I would spend my days working in the stables, taking care of the horses and doing whatever the stable master told me to do. The longest Racheal would be gone was two days and one night. On the nights she would be gone I slept in the stables. With Strawberry, so that I wouldn’t be alone. I was still afraid of being alone. Racheal brought me back little presents and rare things she would find on her journeys. A arrow head, rocks, a sea shell even! And she always stayed home for a few days before leaving again. So that meant that she could train me. I loved going out to the shooting range, and firing off a few shot. Until I was twelve, I could barely even hit the target. But by the age of 14, I could hit a perfect bullseye. That’s when Racheal decided I was ready to go out on my first adventure with her.
We rode underneath the blazing heat of the summer sun. My hat casted a shadow over my face, making it a bit cooler. Strawberry walked along in a easy pace, my body swaying from side to side as we rode. “So what we look’n for again?” I asked my older sister, glancing over at where she rode Blizzard. Racheal smiled, her face that held new scars from her adventures, just as bright and loving as Ma’s had been. She knew I had waited to go with her forever. I wanted to seek a thrill now. “A family Heirloom. An expensive necklace, that some demon bandits have gotten their hands on.” She explained to me once again, even though I knew what we were looking to. I felt an odd sense of pride that we were hunting down demons. “Will it be easy?” I asked as we rode along. “Should be” Racheal informed me, clicking her heels, she urged Blizzard to move faster.
It was only a two hour ride from the city, to the abandoned town. Where the necklace was suppose to be. We rode down the main street. Wind creaking through the old wooden buildings. Whistling through bottles that rolled in the sand. The heavy stench of death was in the air. I could recognize that foul scent anywhere. “Where would they be?” I whispered to my sister. Not wanting to alert anything of our arrival. “I don’t know for sure” She whispered back gently, glancing around the town with her sharp eyes. Racheal never seemed to miss a thing. Except for what a mistake this had been.
They emerged from the shadows of the buildings, molding out of the darkness like phantoms. Their sharp teeth gleamed in the sunlight. I gulped, feeling a wave of fear wash over me. Racheal spun Blizzard around, to find that the demons had began to close in on all sides. She quickly drew her gun. And I drew mine. Racheal had given me her own gun, while she had taken a new gun from the shops in the city. I was loaded and ready to fire. But fear grasped at me with it’s cold fingers. I was frozen. Even with the gun in my hand, I felt afraid and helpless.
Their laughing was hideous and dry, chatting among themselves in another language I could not understand. But it sounded like they were speaking of how well they would eat that night. Strawberry skitted frantically beneath me, knocking me from my thoughts. Racheal was the first to fire, and I followed. The demon‘s surged forward, clawing at Strawberries feet. I tugged back on the reins to get her away from their claws. But i only bumped into more demons. More and More of them emerged from the buildings. And it came to me that no matter how many we shot down, we would go down before they were all dead.
“Maire!” Racheal snapped over her shoulder, for a moment I swore I heard Ben’s voice. Back on that night eight years ago. Shouting at us to run. “Run!” she slammed her hills down on Blizzard’s bell. Who reared, knocking demons of their feet. And flew forward. Strawberry followed. The demons swelled behind us like one giant wave of evil. Snarling and howling with the excitement of the hunt. “Don’t look back Maire!” Racheal shouted to me as the horses galloped down the street, I quickly looked forward, concentrating on the road underneath Strawberries nimble feet. A gun shot. Blizzard cried in pain and suddenly I heard a thunder crash next to me. I yanked on Strawberries reins. Causing her to instantly stop and turn. Racheal was pinned beneath her dying Stallion as blood leaked from a gun wound in his side. “Racheal!” I yelped, about to jump off my own horse. “Don’t your dare get off that horse!” She nearly roared, I had never heard her sound so… threatening. “But Racheal!” I cried, I could fear tears swelling in my eyes. The wave of demons was crashing closer and closer each second. And would be upon us in seconds. “Get out of here!!!” She yelled at me, suddenly picking up a bullet sized rock and chucking it at Strawberry. The rock hit my mare’s side. And before I could do anything, my horse was rushing forward. And I could do nothing about it. I tried not to listen to the horrific sounds of Blizzard’s cry as he was ripped apart. Or my sisters stifled scream as she tried her best not to.
As the years went on, my heart seemed to grow colder. The burning hate I had for any demon kindled into what had become a bomb fire. At the age of twenty I went to a gun smith, and requested for a pistol like my sisters, to match. However, he could not completely make a gun as unique as my sisters. So I had to settled for having a fixed spell engraved into it. When I was 19, a demon clawed my right eye, causing it to go blind. While when I was 20, a gang of them mauled me, resulting in horrific scars down my neck and across my lower jaws. And Now, at the age of 23, I travel alone, in search of revenge for my family.

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】

Her number one trusty steed is a strawberry roan mare, named BloodRose. She calls her Bloody for short. When Dead Bolt was a little girl, and still going by the name of Maire, her father gave her a little filly for her 3rd birthday. Being a little girl, of course the filly was named Strawberry. But when Dead Bolt became a bounty hunter, and changed her name, she changed Strawberries as well. Bloody is roughly twenty years old. Yes, she is an older horse now, but that doesn't mean she can't run as fast as she ever could. She is a tall and elegant female. With a white top, that fades to a rusty red-pink around her belly, legs and feet. Her mane and tail are long and flowing. Always well combed thanks to Dead Bolt. Her mane and tail are black, with streaks of white throughout the thick hair. Bloody's muzzle is black, while the bottom of her chin is speckled with splashes of white. From her poll, to the top of her ears, there is thick stripes of grey. Her eyes are gentle and sweet, a beautiful brown. Her legs are scarred up from battles that she has followed Dead Bolt into. Her saddle is made of cow hide, polish to a fine dark brown. It is a western saddle. The seat is a lighter than the rest of the saddle. While the horn tied onto it, was a bulls horn, sanded down to a smooth bulb. She has a double sided saddle pack behind the seat, tightly secured and holding all of Dead Bolts few belongings. The breastplate is made out of fine bone that has been smooth so it would not hurt her. Bloody is loyal to Dead Bolt, and loves her companion greatly. She has a gentle heart and a sweet spirit. She is the sort of horse that would allow a child to hug her legs, or a cat to sit on her back. Nearly complete opposite of her companion.

Dead Bolt has a long lasso of rope she keeps attached to Bloody's saddle. Incase she needs of it. Her rope is nothing special. Something that anyone could by at any general store. But it is starting to get torn up from use, and the blood stains on it's golden threads are very clear.

Her dagger is rather old, although Dead Bolt can not be sure on how old it really is. She took it off of a bandit that had tried to knife her, and had paid for his mistake with his life. And his dagger. It is a steel blade, polished to perfection. And sharpened to the correct sharpness for Dead Bolt's liking. It is wrapped in leather. So old that is it starting to crack. And when she gets the chance, she plans on replacing it with something nicer and newer. Her dagger often sits in a little place in her right boot.

Her matching set of pistols are not so matching as one might think. They both look identical, except for the inscriptions that covered the barrel and handle of the guns. The spells that are inscribed are Lightning and Fire. The one that had once been her sisters, is the pistol in which she favors. With the spell of Lightning. When the gun is fired, the magic energy, resinating inside of the user, is drained out and shot out from the barrel of the gun. In a condensed, bullet like form. This gun was made by her great grandfather, and inscribed with the spells by her great grandmother. It has helped her family for many generations, and helped her grandfather settle the farmland that she had grown up in. Her other pistol, is nearly the same. Only it produces condensed bullets of magic, in the form of fire.

@TuujaimaaDo I need to make anything longer?

I'll post tomorrow - for sure now. All of the life stuff is taken care off and I can almost breathe normally (I had the flu).

Yaaaaay.

Hella. Glad to have you back, Innue.

@Silen Syanka: The bio's definitely up to scratch now, but I can't let you create bullets made of fire/electricity with any sort of frequency/ease without giving you a crystal, and I'm just not comfortable enough to give you a crystal. You'd also have no way of getting access to inscribed crystals, which are the balancing mechanic given to those who do have crystals. You can certainly imbue your bullets with fire and electricity, but until you get a crystal that scope of magic will just be beyond you. :/

[@Tuujokay X3 at least i tried! I'll change it than thanks for your help