(Okay, just a few more quick rules.
A limit of 5 a day, I just don't people dropping out due to speed.
Seriously, remember these.)

The sun rose over the town of Crosses. A small community, on the edge of Texas and Mexico. The town had seem its fair share of bloodshed, dur tho the great fact that it was a criminal community. Chase woke up in a haze of smoke. It was coming from the floor below, The Mole Rat's Foot casino, which doubled as an inn. He went down to see the cause of the smoke. Many men with cigars were playing games of poker, blackjack, and other gambling games. Chase went over to the bar to order a drink.

"Hey, sweetie, one bottle of Whiskey, please." He asked.

"Don't call me sweetie, and here's your Whiskey."

"Whats wrong with making conversation, sweetie"

When he said that the Bartender turned around as if leaving, but turned back around a hit him with a bottle.
The glass shattered and he fell to the ground, gaining some embarrassment with him.
He got back up, angry.

"What the hell, you little..." He said.

A large man walked up behind him, and grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey fella, step away from the ladies." He said in a deep voice.

"Or what...tiny..." He said as he turned around to see how big he really was.

"Or this"

When the man said this he picked up Chase and threw him out the door.
Chase hit the dirt, and as he got back up, spat out some dirt.
He walked over to a different bar, looking to get hammered!
Chase walked into Stanly's Saloon, a much better place of drinking.

The town had a history of gangs, a few years back, the "Mayor" of Crosses, the Merc Stark let anyone do anything, so the gangs arose.
Assassins were the worst, never get one someones bad side. Then Mercs, soldiers soldiers for hire.
And the Bandidos, a sort of collation of thieves, watch you pockets.

Alice was sitting in the casino's bar sipping on her scotch. A man then walked up to her and dropped an envelope beside her he then walked in the opposite direction Alice opened up the envolope she saw a sheet that said "Freddy McMahon, Mikes Money Makers, Short fair hair, Likes to hang around the alleys. Alice carfully read the letter and then left the bar she walked through alleys and more alleys for hours she eventually came across the man who matched the discription perfectley she walked up to him and pulled out her pistol she shot it three times in his stomach and he yelled out in pain. Alice then grabbed his head and put it on the curb and stomped down spliting his head in two.

Jack stood in the shadows opposite the casino flanked by two other mercs. Jack hated this watching but at least it got him outside the stronghold meaning he didn't have to see Coyote. It wasn't that he didn't respect the man he did, it was more the fact that he didn't trust him. He didn't know why but something about the man gave him a chill every time he saw him

As they watched they saw a man thrown out by the burly bouncer. The two flanking him made to move

"No" he muttered, "They'll signal if they need us."

The two moved back and watched. "New blood" he thought, "Any time there's trouble they think they have to go in and sort it."

He watched silently as the man got up spat out the dirt and headed to Stanly's. It wasn't a face he knew and he made a mental note to keep an eye out for him again. The two mercs with him looked at him for an explanation about why they hadn't dealt with the guy who had just been thrown out.

"Look" he said "He's been harassing the girls and the bouncer doesn't allow it. He throws them out and they don't go back. The only time we get involved is when he gives us a signal."

With that he became silent. As he watched he saw the mysterious girl he'd seen only sparingly around town walk out of the casino and very quickly walk into the alleys. He turned away and checked his equipment for the 3rd time that night just in case there was any trouble.

Timothy scrambled into the bar, he was quite hungry and had spent the better part of this day running from a hungry Yao Gui, his energy was to sapped to conjure up some food. He ducked under a table full of burly men ad then rolled under the next table, the smell of smoke made him a bit nauseous, he choked back bile and crawled under the bar, he looked around and took stock of the items on the shelves, he waited till the bartenders back was turned to serve another customer and Timothy snatched up a hunk or Mole Rat meat and a bottle of whiskey, he munched hungrily on the meat in between sips of whiskey, it burned his throat, but he was to hungry and thirst to care

((OOC: If anyone else wants to join, read the sign up, and PM your sheet.))

Chase entered Stanly's looking for hard drink. He sat at the bar and crossed his arms.

"Hey fella, can I have Vodka mixed with Whiskey" He asked.

"Yes you can, that's the 'Stanly Special'" the bartender said.

Chase was given his drink, and he began to drink it fast.
He downed that one and asked for a new one.
Chase kept on drinking, and drinking.
It was one of his favorite hobbies.

Chase got really drunk, and started to walk all over the place.
He tripped over a chair that was pushed into his way.
He got back up to confront the prankster.

"Hey, you little ghoul-lover, what do you think you doing!" He said, sluing his words.

The table of men laughed, at his obvious drunkenness.

"What am I going to do, you little punk" The chair pusher said as he got up out of his chair.

"C'om on, *Hick* you don't look so tough"

The man went over to Chase, and punched him square in the head.
As Chase fell to the ground, he heard the men laughing.
He got back up, grabbed the man's shoulder to turn him around.
Chase gave him one in the nose, the man fell back onto the table the others were sitting at.

They all got up, staring Chase dead in the eye.
He gave out a nervous smile.
Chase heard a man in the corner yell "Bar Fight!".
Chase readied his fists, preparing for a fight.

((OOC: Go ahead a forget the "Post after two", but still, a limit of five a day))

Timothy shook for a moment with fright, but realized he hadn't been found out, he peered over the bar, the place had erupted into a chaotic bar fight, chairs and tables were being slung and knocked over and some of the men were cautiously pulling weapons from beneath their clothes, Timothy glanced around the room and his gaze rested on a man who was obviously drunk and seemed to be the center of attention, though most of the men were fighting with one another, Timothy had a slight pang of pity for the man and didn't want to see him hurt, he locked his attention onto the group focusing on him, suddenly, Chase disappeared, the men looked around in confusion, Timothy took his chance, he bolted over the counter top and ran for the man, he grabbed his hand and ran in the direction he hoped was the door, seeing as how he couldn't take his eyes off the group, they made it outside and Timothy dragged the man into a nearby alley, he sat down and panted, his chest heaving with the adrenaline that was now pumping through his veins

Streams sheet

Name: Michael Logan Carter

Nickname: Dirty

Affiliation: The Death Dealers (Sort of)

Age: 18

Race: Caucasian, Human

Gender: Male

Appearance: Dirty has near shoulder length black hair and light blue eyes. He has a fairly decent build having spent the majority of his youth on a homestead. Callouses cover his palms and soles of his feet. Slightly pursed lips and eyes almost always look like they're focused on something in the distance. A clean ad young looking face.

Misc: Callouses on hands and slightly chipped fingernails.

Weapon(s): 8 shot .22 pistol holstered on his side, and a Remington pump shotgun tucked under the Casino bar while at work.

Armor: Bullet proof vest under his clothing, only covers the torso and stops small caliber bullets and shotguns from midrange. For clothing, wears a finely tailored black shirt jacket over a rough brown leather vest. A white linen shirt is the last layer over his bullet proof vest, all given to him as a uniform at work. Pressed black pants and polished shoes are also part of the uniform. Wears a hat nearly identical to a black leather porkpie hat by choice.

Personality: Dirty is a reserved person and normally doesn't get into anyone else's business. He learned that during his first year working at the Death Dealer's casino, seeing what happens to people who get too nosey. Known to make a joke hear and there. Cautious.

History/Background: Dirty was raised on a homestead just outside of crosses raising Brahmin. At the age of 17, seeking a more ambitious and better paying life, he moved into crosses at the peak of the gangs' power. Landed a job cleaning up messes and serving drinks at the local casino. Moved into a short stint helping some of the employee's wives sew and repair performer's clothes, but is now working behind the bar. Picked up a few tricks from some of the assassins, but rarely ever fights himself.

"Hey, you little man, I could of handled them."

Chase went over to a trash can and threw up.
He fell down, drunk as the sun is hot.

"Who are you?"

Timothy plodded over to the man "im Timothy" he crouched down beside the man and merely stared, after a few moments he finally pieped up once more "who are you? why were those men back there mad at you? why are you drunk? do you know where we are 'cause i don't, ive been running from a ferocious Yao Gui all day, just lost him as i neared the town, i snuck in that bar there and i stole some food and drink, i feel kinda bad, but anyways who are you" he rambled, his eyes lit up like Christmas lights

"I'm drunk because I like to be"

Chase said that while getting up.

"Those men were some local Mercs, this is Crosses."

Chase went over to the trash and threw up once more.

"I'm Chase Masters, Pleased to meet you" Chase said, extending his hand for a shake.

Dirty was eager to keep his clothing relatively clean before showing up to work. The dirt and dust on the ground of Crosses was almost inevitable to avoid. A fine brown dirt would collect into the soles of his shoes and scoff the from of them. He had an annoying tendency to drag the front of his feet into the dirt when he walked. If he could remember correctly, he started this when his family grew wheat out on the homestead. The seeds and soft stem would tickle in between his toes.

Out of the Mole Rat's Foot casino, his employer, flew one of the many citizens. He landed in the poor excuse for a street, kicking us the loose dust from the ground. Dirty coughed a bit as the thin smoke surround him. He closed his eyes to stop them from watering. The intoxicated looking man got up and stumbled over to the saloon next door.

Damn drunks. I was so careful to keep my clothes clean before showing up for work too.

Inside of the casino he was greeted by many familiar faces. The jukebox was playing a tune by "The Ink Spots". A few waitresses dressed in revealing uniforms circled around from table to table, almost looking like they were dancing. The men were whistling and hollering at them; either at a cheap attempt at their attention, or just to drown themselves in more booze. Dirty grabbed a cloth from under the bar and wiped his face off. Using it like a whip he began to beat his clothes like his mother used to beat the rugs after a sandstorm. Thin clouds of dust formed and fell to the ground. The dirty cloth promptly went into a sink of water. One of the other barkeeps smiled at him and handed him a thick piece of leather, much like what Amish barbers would use to sharped blades, only bigger.

"Looks like your shoes could use a spit-shine Michael. You should really drop your feet dragging habit, only children do that. You're a man now, act like one." he said laughing.

Michael smiled slightly at the pathetic attempt at a joke. He took the now damp cloth and wrung it out over the sink. He flung the leather over his shoulder followed by the cloth. He got right to work serving drinks and mixing cocktails for the waitresses. He leaned over the counter watching them dance around to each table like it was a fine art. Luckily his eyes always look like they were focused on something or they would begin to think he was a pervert. A large man in a fine black suit much like his own stood in front of him, dominating his view. Dirty looked up at the exceptionally tall man.

"Sour mash on the rocks," he reached his hand into his jacket, scaring Dirty for a moment, thinking he was pulling out a gun. "and this is for you." He placed an envelope on the polished bar and slid it at Dirty. He finished pouring the drink and promptly stuffed in into his vest. Looks like his time had come.

After checking through his equipment and making sure his weapons were loaded Jack scanned the street using his ears as well as his eyes. All of a sudden he heard the sounds of commotion coming from Stanly's.

"You two stay here and keep your eyes on the Casino" he murmured to the two mercs with him "I'm going to go find out what's going on."

Jack set himself and walked over towards Stanly's his hand never straying far from the 10mm on his hip. As he approached the door slammed open and two figures came running out of it a boy of around 10 and the same man who had been thrown out of the casino. As he watched they darted into a nearby alley. Jack was about to go back to watching the Casino when he heard the man say that he could have taken them without help but couldn't hear the boys response. He stopped eavesdropping and walked to the door of Stanly's to take a look at who was in there. After seeing that it was some of the local mercs he walked back to his post shaking his head and laughing to himself.

"What's going on Stone face?" one of his mercs asked.

He looked at him for a second before answering

"Oh just the same guy who got tossed out of the Casino causing trouble in Stanly's," he replied "That's not the best part though, he got rescued by some little kid."

The two with him laughed for a second before he silenced them with a look that said "Quiet". Jack went back to looking around and saw the bouncer from the Casino looking out to find out what was going on. He debated going to tell him but decided against it. Keeping his mouth shut was what Jack 'Stone Face' Stone was known for after all.

Thadeus sat in a chair, just along the Main Street. He was sharpening his bowie knife when he heard the commotion coming from Stanly's. Bar brawls were a common thing, a merc went into to check out what had been going on, it was Stone Face. Thadeus got up and began walking toward his two men. Stone Face came back and confirmed the bar brawl.

Turns out a kid bailed out the moron who started it. Thadeus honestly didn't have the time to deal with all the damned brawlers and drunkards in town, even though he enjoyed a whiskey now and again. Thadeus was looking for work, and it work was sorta scarce these days. He hadn't had a good job in a while. So he shouldered his AK, sheathed his Bowie, and walked down the streets.

He looked over at a signpost outside of Stanly's, a wanted poster was pinned on it.

Stephen entered the bar, and saw all the people, drinking, telling stories, and playing drinking games. He walked over to the bartender and said, "Get me a Deathclaw Stopper."

The bartender asked, "What in God's name is that?"

Stephen sighed and told him, "This drink is so strong even a deathclaw will fall over drunk, its a mix of vodka, whisky, rum, and very fortified wine!"

The bartender started mixing the drinks and handed it to Stephen, he sipped it and thanked the bartender, "Not bad..."

He looked around the bar, ready to fight at a moments notice, or get some work that is.

Timothy shook the man's hand "lets go, there's another place across the road" he took the man's hand and walked over to the bar, the same one Jack was standing guard in, he sat the man down and hopped up onto the bar stool "bottle of whiskey please!" he cried enthusiastically, the scantily clad bartender turned around "well aren't you a cutey, one bottle of whiskey comin' up, and for such a cute little rascal like yourself that'll only be five caps hun" Timothy rummaged in his pockets but found nothing "just a minute please ma'am" Timothy hopped off the stool and he ran over to a nearby table, he snatched a glass off, the patron was to drunk to notice and Timothy ran to the side of the bar and took a quick glance to make sure no one was looking, he then focused on the glass, which quickly fell apart into a dozen Nuka-Cola caps, he picked them up and ran to the bar and paid for the bottle of whiskey, he thanked the lady and ran back to the man "i got some whiskey, you want some?" he asked politely

"Oh, no, too drunk."

Chase said, but he rethought the idea.

"Well, the best cure for being drunk, is more drinking"

Chase grabbed a shot glass, filled it up, and took it down.
He lit up a smoke.

"AHHHH, what the hell, you try to hit on someone and they throw you out."

Chase got tipsy, so he sat down.
He past out there, and was, of course, thrown out.

((Last post here for me tonight, so no interaction at me.))

OOC: RP over, the RP leader is leaving...
Edit: Nevermind.

NO! I mean tonight!
So please edit that.

The RP is not ending, I just had bad phraseology!

Eh, maybe I'll let this die, have better RPers create better things.

See, you rushed it. Don't do that, and the Rp won't burn out so fast. I'm out because it was quickly rushed. Sorry.

I have to be honest. I have no idea what is going on, or what I am supposed to do. That's the problem with these open-ended "You decide the fate etc etc." they tend to get confusing and rush very quickly.

Shadow, I'm not trying to tear you down in anyway. But you've read what we've been discussing on "So you think you can Rp?", and you see what we mean first hand now. I wouldn't give up on the Rp, but I would probably (if he's willing) ask Dr. Strangelove on some pointers for your Rp? Maybe he could explain better why not to rush, which I think he did in "So you think you can Rp?"

I think what MAX is getting at, these RPs are heavily setting reliant. You have a great setting on your hands, a really great one, and a great linear story would compliment it perfectly. This was in no way a bad RP, but ones without an obvious story do not work.