Note: This is a 1x1 roleplay, but if you are interested in jumping in, please apply with a CS here.



Calexico: A smuggler's island, a place of last resort for some, and a place of new beginnings for others.

Zuninya Utonygye was definitely in the 'last resort' category now. Half her supply stolen, the other half waterlogged, the Irathient's boat limped into the harbor. The crew, which consisted now only of an additional unhappy Irathient and a Sensoth, was down both of their gunslingers after the fight. Really, Zuninya should be glad the three of them escaped with their lives, but all her mind went to was the wasted goods and how it would be months, a year maybe, before they could establish themselves up again.

Then, as soon as the boat landed, her Irathient friend picked up a bag full of supplies. "Hey!" Zun shouted, reaching for him, but he picked up their last gun, too, pointed it at her.

"I'm getting out of here," he snapped. "You stay where you are, Zun."

"Get the hell back in the boat, you piece of shtako," she snarled, all her muscles tense. She was really not in the mood for insubordination.

"I'm done taking the loss," her crewman said, stepping off the boat onto the dock.

"I can't rebuild this without you," Zun growled, her voice low.

"I'm taking your gun and your stuff," he said. "Good luck with that. I hope Ashina doens't cut your throat next time she sees you. So long." And then he hopped off and he was gone, somewhere into the heart of Calexico.

Zuninya jumped up onto the dock and kicked her boat furiously, cussing in three different languages. Her Sensoth, a sensitive guy, only wept silently, watching her. After a while, she wore herself out, panting, pushing red braids back from her face. "Oh, get out, you great lump," she said. "Let's go get wasted at the need-want." Gyakusa, god of passion and revelry, owed them that much, at least.

A swollen red sun emerged from the propitious horizon of shoreline to the east as Uthik Beskar awoke to the smell of the fresh, blue ocean and the vibrant sounds of automobiles, people, and the machinery which drew nearer. The waves of the Western Shore seemed to be getting larger by the sounds of it and Utha could only guess that they've arrived near the port-city of Calexico as the mangy, pink-meated Captain, who had his stained yellow beard from the surplus of rations he so easily took advantage of, said they would. For the past few days, Utha had been patiently waiting for the moment to reach the promising city to the south of San Francisco and with every day that past, so too did his disdain for the crowded sea life become more and more predominant.

The city comprised itself with mainly human inhabitants and the rest were sufficienty Votans migrants who gathered into the city streets from the west right after the occupation of the Human Earth by the Votans in 2013. The island was what remained of large portions of what was once Southern California and small fragments of cities that once lay there before the Terraformation. Now, the Island where Calexico was located on was the largest island among several others, surrounded by the AngelArc, a series of islands which where the remnants of larger cities such as Los Angeles and San Diego are located on. A city of ambitious, soon-to-be redeemers, migrants, and opportunists dwell.

As the boat docked harbor, Utha thought it was finally ready for himself to unveil his pale light-blue eyes and soon took a the moment to breathe in the heavy ocean air while he gathered his belongings around the soft bunk bed he rested on. The room was small, empty, and rusted in its years of service but it eased Utha's mind from the noisy, simple minded humans he had such a disdain for. The room he was in had no assigned roommate like the others, only himself to keep company for the night which was less of a burden as he kept a set of belongings at bottom bunk. His belongings were neatly organized for this occasion, a bag filled with clothes at the bottom bunk, his holster belt which was neatly hung next to his dusty brown leather coat, and his other belongings which were shoved into a thick, black-polyester gym bag.

In front of his holster belt, just hanging on the same wall mount hanger, was a small gold locket necklace which was more precious to the young Castithan, more than any treasure he could ever come by. It was a locket which contained the memory of his three older brothers, his father, and himself, all standing proudly together as a once proud family in a small portrait picture which was placed inside the small pendant he so careful kept with him. It was a long lost memory that had one man's face scratched away from a sharp dagger Utha used to maliciously remove a terrible moment in his life but still burned in his head as bright as day and the things he did to the young Gunslinger. It was the face of his father. An inevitable repercussion of temerity, and no matter how hard men try to escape the torments of a mournful past, the past always has a way of creeping up on you and outweighing the good and better memories of tender nostalgia. He had not the courage to think of it now or even mourn it, only drown to himself in the heavy liquor which would undoubtedly alleviate himself. For a while at least. Utha couldn't so much as even open the locket, only on times were he felt the most strong which were hard moments to come by. Today just happened to be another bad day.

Utha wrapped the necklace around his slender neck and darted out the door after tightly strapping his items together. After he gathered his belongings, the ferryman, who was in charge of collecting the sum of money for the boat-ride, was the first to amiably greet the white-skinned Castithan who in exchange, gave a solemn goodbye before taking his first step into the wooden harbor. His former life was now behind him, the promises of redemption and a chance last-resort was ahead of him, ready to pursue a career that wasn't too short, too miserably dull, or even too excessively violent as most he signed up for jobs were.

"Well, friend. What are you going to do here now, Utha?" The ferryman promptly asked, just as soon as the Gunslinger was about to leave into the city ahead of him, well out of his hearing range.

"It's just past dawn and I haven't anything to drink for the past few days. What do you think?" Utha then pulled the small leather wallet from his back-pocket and began flinging and catching it in the air. "I'm gonna get smashed."