Trailer chp. 3: S
Hello once again, my fellow zombies!
Now it's time for the third OC character, and if you don't understand her or why she has what she has, it will be explained later on.
So please, for my sake, and for all other zombies hear reading this; bear with her personality, gear, and (hopefully correct) accent.
Also; RWBY is owned by rooster teeth and the deceased Mounty Oum (God bless him). I only own the OCs.
"How you live your life is up to you. You have to go out and grab the world by the horns. Rope it before it ties you down and decides for you."
― Sarah Reijonen
3rdPOV
The dusty, country town of Vexon, about 50 miles north of Vacou, was bustling with life. Even as dust was picked up by the wind and thrown into various shops and saloons. Even as the sun beamed down on the ground. Even as a group of forty armed men entered the town and started walking for the 'Tipsy Magnum' saloon, everyone minded their own business.
…Scratch that…
As the men entered the town, some people watched in awe, some in horror, and some in annoyance.
Another group of mercs were going to give an attempt to take down a member of the ex-mercenary family: the Lancaster's.
The Lancaster family has had a bad reputation after a job gone wrong over five decades ago. It was a rescue operation that took a turn for the worst when one of the members, Ronnie Cardivan, a non-member of the family-led Merc group that was ordered to go with them, blew up the escape vehicle with all of the hostages inside of it. All to get a large sum of cash and a free 'get-out-of-jail' for any crimes prosecuted against him. The Lancasters were then outlawed for their 'betrayal' to the Vacou Merc division. After that, countless numbers of bounty hunters; ex-huntsmen and huntresses; and mercenaries have tried and failed to capture and/or kill a member of the Lancaster family. The only reason the family still stayed close to the kingdom was that they were popular with several towns for their courageous heroism in the Great Faunus War.
These no name Mercs had just received intel that there was a member of the Lancaster family that always visited the very saloon that they were walking towards every Tuesday and Thursday, from 1130 hours-to-1700 hours, to grab a few root-beers and talk amongst the other bar patrons when she wasn't at the Vacou combat prep school during semester breaks.
The said mercenaries all wore black T-shirts with an orange 'N' in a circle, on the direct center of the chest area. They wore black, leather padded pants with orange stripes going down the exterior of them vertically. They all wore orange combat boots, as well as orange dusters that covered all of the previously described attire.
The one in front leading them wore a black, wide brimmed cowboy hat, with an orange bandana covering the base of the exposed area.
He stopped just right outside the saloon, his men doing the same, and turned to face them.
…Strangely enough they repeated the action by looking away from him…
"GRRRR; YOU IDIOTS, LOOK THIS WAY!" he shouted with a visible vein pulsing from his forehead in anger.
They all quickly turned with a 'beaten-puppy' look on their faces.
"God, it's so hard to find help these days" he said under his breath while rubbing his forehead with his hand in irritation.
He turned back to the saloon and screamed at the top of his lungs "LANCASTER; I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, COME OUT OR WE'LL LEVEL THIS DAMN BAR BEFORE YOU CAN FINISH YOUR NEXT SIP!"
Inside the bar, everyone stopped what they were doing; whether it'd be playing darts, ping-pong, starting up the jukebox, or just trying to enjoy a nice drink, and looked towards the back of the bar, at a very broad, pale skinned, seventeen year-old woman who was rocking her head along to the tune of the unknown jukebox song, with her feet propped up on the table she was sitting at.
Her bright, orange-brown hair stretched below her shoulder blades in a long braid of sorts. She wore a brown cowboy hat with a black leather strip resting at the base. On the right side of the hat bore a black symbol of a bale of hay set on fire.
She had a plain red T-shirt covering her…chest area fairly well, which was also covered by a light-brown leather jacket that had a single large, Dust steel plated shoulder guard on her right shoulder. The shoulder guard went across her entire, extremely broad, shoulder blade and beyond, reaching up to the length of her right forearm. There was a slot on the back of the shoulder guard that signaled that she had some type of weapon, as that was its holster of sorts. She wore baggy, dark blue combat jeans that had brown leather padding on the thighs and shins; the jeans had a large hole in the area of the left kneecap, exposing the skin. To cover the rest, she wore brown combat boots with spurs on the backs of them, the rest of her jeans over the tops of them.
Resting on the wall behind her was a large rocket launcher with two handles near barrel, the one furthest back with the trigger. It had a three foot air compressor tube leading to the main action of the gun. On top of the main action of the large cannon was a handle that pulled out the large box of ammo. Behind the grips was a rail that rested underneath the air compressor.
"Hey, Sue" said a ten-year old child with green eyes and brown hair; he wore a green T-shirt, brown cargo shorts, red sneakers, and a red baseball cap.
The woman lifted her head and opened up her eyes to reveal her light-brown irises.
"Whatcha' need, Junior" she replied with a heavy southern accent and a kind smile.
The child puffed out his cheeks in annoyance.
"Sarah, I told you not to call me that, and some guys were calling you out again" the child said in a pouty tone of voice.
Sarah looked down and sighed.
Then she chuckled and said with a smile "Well, thanks fer' lettin' me know, Justin."
Her smile grew bigger as the now identified Justin grinned with renewed vigor and nodded his head.
"No problem, Sue. Just be careful, all right?"
Justin knew what was going on. A few years ago when he was seven, a fourteen year-old Sarah Lancaster saved him from being a hostage held by a Merc group that came to collect her head…instead, the leader got his blown off by her massive cannon, Tinderbox. Ever since then, he had always looked up to Sarah; always saw her as a role model of sorts.
Sarah started to take her feet off the table and stand up to her full height of 6'6. She grabbed Tinderbox from its resting place, and slid the rail behind the handle into the slot on her shoulder. After it entered, Tinderbox made a slight whirring sound as the grips receded back into the weapon so that she could look to the right without slamming her face into the grips.
"I will, I promise."
She took a swig from the mug of root-beer that she had on her table, and started walking towards the bartender.
"Hey ol' Jed, what's my bill look like?"
Jed Mackawitts was a 37 year-old man, standing at 6'3 with blue eyes, a bald head, and a clichéd handlebar mustache like you would see in cowboy movies. He wore a white button-up shirt with a blue cloth jacket on top of it. He wore black slacks with business shoes to finish the look of a typical saloon bar-tender. He was a kind man, but if he was pushed enough, he wouldn't think twice about playing dirty with his sawed-off, double barrel, combat-shovel shotgun.
He was cleaning a glass when he heard his name get called. He lifted his head to see the titan of a woman that was Sarah.
He chuckled, set the glass down and propped himself up with his empty hands.
"Heard the call fer' war now didja'?" he asked with his usual cheeky grin.
"Yup, sure did."
"Well then, how 'bout this: you 'survive' out there, and run those half-wits' outta' the town, the roots are on yours truly" he said with a laugh and putting air-quotations on the word survive.
She gave him a big grin "Thanks then ol' Jed, I'll go get 'em."
As she started walking, the bar patrons all started to cheer her on.
"Knock 'em dead, Sarah."
"She's got this; those varmits don't stand a chance."
"Break their legs for me, kiddo."
Sarah chuckled and turned to face her crowd of supporters.
"When I come back in, next rounds are on me."
Everyone cheered as she pushed her way through the saloon doors.
1stPOV: Sarah Lancaster
Well now ain't this a surprise; they remembered to bring enough people to carry away the dead bodies.
"Well howdy there er'ebody, I reckon at least one of you's gonna be makin' the caskets."
I look out at this here new crowd of people and I have to say: I'm somewhat impressed.
The ringleader started to flap his gums after a bit o' nice silence.
"The hell are you little lady?" he asked me in a rude tone with a light chuckle.
I pushed up the brim of my hat, and looked at 'im with a proud grin on my face.
"Sarah Lancaster's the name, and I reckon yall are after my head for a price ya'll never get, ain't cha."
He chuckled at me "Well then, guess we're gonna have ta show ya who's boss."
"Fine, but can ya at least let me get on your ground" I was standing at the top of the stairs at this point; they didn't recognize that I was slowly edgin' torwards 'em.
"Well sure, think of it as a dying man's-oh wait-a woman's last wishes…as if you had any in the first place, ya big oaf!"
He and his men started pointing an' laughin' at me.
My own grin grew bigger as I silenced them by jumping down from the top of the staircase, and landing onto the hard dirt ground with a resoundin' thud.
Even some of the Mercs began to look like they's was rethinkin' their decisions.
Then the leader had to go openin' his big, fat, ol' mouth.
"Pfft, you really think we all scared of a big, dumb, ol' farm-girl bitch like you. Well think again, behemoth."
My smile was twichin' to a frown real fast 'cause of this wise guy.
"You think 'cause you got some big, fancy weapon that you prolly' can't even lift; 'cause you talla' then us; 'cause you's got that stupid woman's pride; you think that you can fight us. You think you can even 'harm' us."
My fists were clenchin' pretty damn tight 'cause of what this asshole was sayin'; judgin' me just 'cause I'm a woman.
"You know what, how 'bout this; HEY CARL!"
A random member of the Merc group walks up to the boss, he had the group attire on with black hair and green eyes. He salutes to him and does the usual 'yes, sir'.
"I want you ta help the little lady get that cannon that she can't seem to lift offa her shoulda and hand it to her as gently as possible, make sure she doesn't hurt that pretty little face of hers" he said with a confidence that would just make ya wanna spit in his face.
Carl looks towards his boss, then at me with a stupid lookin' grin on his face.
"Sure, I'll help the damsel in distress, sir."
"After that, if she doesn't make a move; 'cause let's face it, she won't: kill her; afterwards we'll burn this place to the ground."
He stepped up to the top of the staircase to the entrance of the saloon.
"People of Vexon, ya'll better be prayin' ta the lord for your safety; 'cause if you believe in this stupid, gunslinger wannabe, then you's gonna be the first ones ta go."
His goon started walkin' torwards me with this confidant look on his face.
He couldn't see my anger under the brim of my hat. The pure, undying rage in my eyes that had the look to do only one thing: kill.
You can make fun of my family name; you can make fun of my height, my looks, and ol' Tinderbox; you can even call me some dumb bitch, 'cause I know I ain't; but when you threaten my town, my home, my friends, my actual family…
Then you're just askin' ta get yer' ass beat.
"Hey miss, would you like some help with that there big, fancy, weapon."
I faked a pretty damn good smile when I looked up and saw that he had this stupid, toothy smile that just screamed at me with stupidity.
I placed my left hand on his shoulder and said "Much obliged, 'friend'."
He looked at me all skeptically, like I was outta my damn mind.
I showed 'im I wasn't…in the form of a right knee goin' to his other head where the sun don't shine.
He knelt over just long enough for me to slam my right elbow on the back of his neck.
A resoundin' 'crack' of his neck and 'thunk' of his body hitting the dirt was all that was heard.
The Merc boss's eyes were buldgin' outta his skull like hard boiled eggs. I woulda' laughed if the timing was right, but this was not a laughing matter, I wasn't a monster; a killer, yes; but not a monster, for I knew damn well what I had just done, and did not enjoy it.
The boss chuckled nervously "Okay, Carl, that was pretty funny. Now get the hell up and end the life of her so we can get lootin'."
Silence…
"Seriously…Carl, get yer' lazy as-!"
Then he saw it. The small trail of blood comin' from his goon's lips.
I looked up at 'im with dead eyes "You know women are pretty damn smart."
Just then the town sheriff, Sheriff Duckton, came into the lot of the crowd spectatin' the scene.
"Alright! What's goin' on ova' here-"
He saw the body of the dead goon and started walkin' towards me. The brim of my hat was covering my eyes as I looked down at the lifeless body.
"Sarah…what happen'd?"
"He was attackin' 'er!" an all too familiar voice screamed out.
I looked up to see Justin run towards me an' the sheriff.
"That guy over there ordered that guy right here to grab Sarah's weapon an' take it to blow 'er up!" he said with pointing an' over exaggerated actions…well at least he got most of it right.
"This true, Sarah?"
I looked up at him an' nodded my head "Sure is, Ducky."
He gave me a ghost of a smile just to comfort me of what I just did.
He then spoke to the crowd "Alright people, whatever the Lancaster's do ain't our place or business, so please go inside the nearest shop or eatery where you are standing; that is all."
After the place cleared out, Duck looked at me "Alright Sarah, you have two choices: be deputized and have my help, or be deputized and I'll meet up with you at the Tipsy Magnum, and we can have a few roots on me, whadaya say?"
I grew back my usual grin "I've got this, after all; this is just business."
He started walkin' with Junior back to the saloon, passing by the boss, and I coulda' sworn he said somethin' along the lines of 'You shoulda' never came here'.
"Be careful, Sue."
I clenched my fists to the point where they cracked.
"I will…I promise."
And a Lancaster NEVER goes back on a promise.
Combat music (heavily recommended): The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly theme (keep it paused)
"Everyone weapons up."
The Mercs all had generic frameshift weapons: Tommy gun/swords, shotgun/bats, and revolver/combat knives.
I fixed the brim of my hat to where I could see them, but they couldn't see my eyes.
Start song here
I slapped the side of Tindy and the grips came shootin' out of him.
I grabbed the one furthest back and slid my gun onta' my shoulder plate.
"FIRE!"
As soon as the boss said that, I took hold of both grips and started running forward, head on into the fray.
When they started shooting, I rolled to the left and fired off a few rockets. Some of the Mercs went flying, as the lucky ones that spread out before they got caught in the blast started to shift their weapons to melee.
I turned around to realize that I was surrounded from all sides by the Mercs with their weapons ready to chop or smash into my head.
I smiled wide as I pointed Tindy at the ground and waited for them to get close.
"Already ready to kill yourself, girl?" the boss asked mockingly.
"Nah" was my simple reply.
When they got close enough, I emptied the contents of the twenty round clip of rockets that rested in my pride and joy.
Now most people would be thinkin' that I would be sendin' myself ta hell with that kinda' stunt. But what most people don't realize is that I ain't like most folk. I may have gottin' my Aura from the Vacou combat trainin' prep school somethin' or other, but that's not what's keepin' me on my feet. You can thank ol' Flak Jacket for that. Whenever Dust is in a non-crystalized form, such as from Dust throwers or Dust explosives after they explode, it's repelled off of me. Crystalized Dust such as bullets or swords I can't block off, their volumes too much for me ta knock away.
After I heard a loud click come from my weapon, i pulled out the empty box of ammo, and replaced it with a fresh ammo box. Afterwards, I grabbed the area where the air compressor and the action met, and flicked my wrist.
The handles folded back into the action as the action itself turned 90 degrees, to where the ammo box was facin' the sky. The air compressor folded inwards, making it easier to keep a grip on it and increasing its length to four an' a half feet. The handle of the ammo box folded into the weapon, smoothing out the head. The barrel of the gun and the area that wasn't still connected into the compressor smoothed out to make the finishing touches of the weapon. A single trigger popped outta' the very top of the grip of the newly frameshifted, Tinderbox hammer.
Everyone's eyes widened at the sight of my weapons new form. I laughed and twirled it 'round so it rested 'n top of my shoulder plate.
Some wisecrack thought he could sneak up behind me with his revolver/knives, I taught him otherwise by spinning the head of the hammer inta' his chest sending him flying back a few feet. Another feller' rushed at me with his sword; I held up my hammer horizontally to block an overhead attack, throwing him off balance and givin' me time ta bang the side of his head with the end of my hammers grip, givin' him the chance to take a forcefully induced nap.
I saw a few of the Tommy gunners start shootin' at me; I started twirling Tindy around so fast that it acted as a rotating shield. The shots started to ricochet offa Tindy, that gave me an idea. I started leaning where I was rotating the spin of my hammer, so that the shots would go in different directions. The plan worked better than I expected, the only ones left standing on the field were the three gunslingers with empty guns. I smiled at them before I ran towards them and swung my hammer from side-to-side sending all three of them flying.
There were a few more goons behind me, so feeling lazy; I flipped Tindy back to his rocket launcher form an unloaded onta them until I felt it was necessary ta stop. I then felt the blade of a sword harshly run through my Aura protected back, Aura may protect us but it doesn't stop the pain from seepin' through. I flipped Tindy back to hammer, pointed the barrel end in the opposite direction of where I was swinging, and pulled the trigger.
The goon was met with a rocketing hammer head to the face that sent him flying all the way to the entrance of town.
I whistled while forming Tindy back to his rocket launcher form "That was one helluva homerun."
I looked back to see the boss with his mouth agape in shock and anger. He looked at me and his face instantly turned to one of pure hate.
"YOU STUPID BITCH! IF NO ONE ELSE CAN BEAT YOU, THEN I WILL PERSONALLY RIP YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!"
"I just kicked all your men inta the dirt and hear ya are, spoutin' off nonsense about beatin' me. Now believe me when I'm sayin' I'm not braggin', I'm just layin' out the facts. You're the only one left that is conscious and breathing, I suggest splittin' with what life ya got left."
He didn't listen to a word I said and charged at me with two bowie knives with revolving cylinders in them.
I just sighed and walked forward, my fists balled up.
He started shooting at me but I didn't dodge, I took the hits head on, ignoring the pain 'cause I knew it was temporary, and my Aura would heal my wounds later.
When he got close enough, I brought my right fist behind me and threw everything I had into the punch.
The only thing I saw in his eyes, the split-second before his face made 'good friends' with my wild, haymaker powered fist, was fear...and for the first time in my life…it…felt… good.
End of song
CRACK!
Was the sound of his nose being pushed back into his skull, ending his life.
But what I focused on was how I…liked what happened. I felt that what jus' happened was the answer to my life.
But I didn't have time to think about it too much as Justin came burstin' through the saloon doors, an' flyin' into my arms being followed by his parents, Mary and Mark Kentor.
Both of them had brown hair and green eyes; Mark had his hair slicked back, and wore a red button up shirt neatly tucked into a pair of black jeans with black dress boots finishing the look; Mary had her hair in a ponytail and wore a beautiful bright pink morning dress with pink high-heels and pearl earrings.
Justin was crying into my unarmored shoulder "Sarah *sniff* you're okay!"
"Yeah ,Jun…Justin I'm just fine."
'No you aren't, you just enjoyed committing murder' a voice in my head said
"Thank you yet again, Sarah for being this town's defender" Mary said to me with a smile on her face.
"Well I'm the reason why they keep comin'."
Mark saw this as his point to say something "Well without you, other bandits and marauders would be claiming this town as their own, not to mention the Grimm attacks."
I smiled "Thank you, now apart from staying alive, I made a promise of drinks on me."
I walked into the saloon with Justin on my back and a smile on my face.
1stPOV: Sarah Lancaster
The three-mile run/walk home went off without a hitch.
When I came within a few yards to the entrance to the large, two-story ranch-house, I saw a familiar 6'10, 64 year-old, figure.
He wore a similar hat as mine with the same symbol as mine, but without a leather strip. He wore a black T-shirt that showed off his large muscles. He wore black jeans tucked into black combat boots. Grampa Victor Lancaster: retired huntsmen and ex-mercenary.
"Howdy, Grampa."
He lifted his head and opened up his strangely warm sky-blue eyes, when he saw me, he grew a big grin.
"Well now, there's my favorite granddaughter. How was the bar? Were the Kentors there?"
He rubbed the hat on my head while he started speaking again "You look like somethin's on your mind; what's th' matter, kiddo?"
"Of course you would know when I would have somethin' wrong with me."
"Nothin's wrong with you, it's just that somethin's on your mind."
"Alrighty then."
After we entered the kitchen, his expression went from cheerful to one of absolute seriousness.
"I heard about the Mercs, mind tellin' me what happened?"
I took a deep breath and started telling him what happened; everything from when I got there, to when I punched the boss of the Merc group so hard it killed 'im.
"There was somethin' about it though that's been bothering me…when I saw the look of fear he had right before my punch came into contact…I liked it."
He sighed "I knew this was gonna happen at some point. You're used to killin' for self-defense by now, right?"
I nodded my head.
"Well the Lancaster's have had this feeling of adrenaline whenever they kill. It takes time to get used to; the rush of bullets whizzing past you, the clashing of blades and blunts, seeing blood fly after a good-"
"Grampa I think you're getting' ahead of yourself" I said calmly as he lowered back into his seat.
He coughed and continued "Right…anyways, what you're feeling is the rush of combat that the Lancaster's have always felt in a fight; but don't worry, as long as you keep it tempered to self-defense and killing Grimm you'll be just fine."
I sighed out of relief then somethin' hit me harder than a rampaging boartusk monarch.
"I gotta pack for beacon!"
Grampa squinted in thought for a moment before he too started to freak out.
"I forgot that you leave tomorrow!"
"GO GO GO GO GO!" we both screamed in unison as we climbed the stairs to my room…to find that my grandmother, Ellas Lancaster, stood near a large duffle bag almost as big as me.
She stood 6'7 at 60 years-old, was slightly toned for her age, and had violet eyes. She wore a dark blue evening dress with a white floral apron and black slippers. Her grey hair flowed freely with the wind coming through the window.
Grampa and I started to stutter until Grandma raised her left hand and spoke with a small smile.
"Think of it as a small gift while you were in town."
She then started to tear up and picked me up into a bone crushing bear hug lifting me three feet off the ground.
"MY LITTLE HAMMER SLINGER'S GOING TO A TOP LINE COMBAT SCHOOL! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!"
"Grandma thank you, I really appreciate it…but can you please not kill me in a hug before I go to a place that's goin' ta be teachin' me ta fight giant monsta's."
"Sorry, Sorry; I'm just so proud of you."
She set me down and patted me on the head.
"Now get some sleep, when we get up in the mornin' get yourself ready. At noon we're gonna head into town to spread the word. Then at 1:00, we're gonna get you ta the plane for Vale okay."
"Alright, Grandma."
She kissed me on the cheek, Grandpa followin' shortly after, and closed the door behind them.
'Might as well jus' sleep in my regular clothes.'
Then I smell'd somethin' awful comin' offa me.
'After I take a shower.'
BAM!
I'm back, and HOLY CRAP I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT THIS WAS OVER 4,500 WORDS! That's so awesome!
Also, don't be afraid to leave a comment or PM me for anything I did wrong, and, before I forget: how. Do. You. Post. Your newly. Edited. CHAPTERS!
I've been working on new drafts for the trailer chps 1 & 2, but I don't know how to post them.
Anyways, I'm out my fellow zombies, BRAAAAAAINS!