Advent Of A Gunslinger
by Jmaster49
First published
A stallion who lost his family to the Klugetown slave trade in his youth now seeks vengeance.
Axel Remington. A pony who lived a normal life growing up in Appleloosa with his pegasus mother, hippogriff father, eldest sister, and two older twin brothers. His father was actually an arms dealer who made all sorts of weapons for various groups of assorted creatures--including those from Klugetown and Abyssinia. Noting how dangerous this was, his wife convinced him to give up that life and take up something much safer: carpentry. He agreed, and all was well, right? It was for a while. But eventually, tragedy struck. His old clients from Klugetown paid him a visit one day. Enraged at the fact that he would no longer provide them with weapons, they beat down, and abducted him and the rest of his family. Save for Axel who had managed to hide just in time.
As a result, Axel grew up alone and took up the mantle his father left behind. Using his father's weapons that he had found stashed away, Axel became a bounty hunter and proved himself to be one of the best gunslingers around. Now that he's fully grown, he seeks to avenge his family, and erase what's left of the gang that took that away from him.
Hopefully he can avoid a bounty being placed on his head in the process...
Introduction
At the southern edge of the Badlands, near the Bone Dry Desert lies a tavern that also housed an inn for wandering, tired travellers. Due to its remote location, business was occasionally slow, but profitable due to the wealthy individuals that would spend their money and time there. A risky, yet well-to-do business. On this particular evening, an individual would enter the doors.
And he wasn’t exactly a regular. As soon as he entered, the patrons of the bar had their eyes fixated upon him.
A pony--at least that’s what he looked like. The front half of his body was covered by a blue jean jacket and a brown vest with a few small bandoliers that held bullets. And instead of hooves, his front legs ended with claws that were covered by leather gloves. His lower half was adorned with a pair of boots with holsters on the outer side of the calf. The boots had flat, round bottoms which clung to his hindlegs tightly enough to function as armor. To top it all off, he had a brown stetson hat that sat neatly atop his head.
He sat down at one of the barstools--a few seats away from the other patrons, and waited to be served.
After a moment, he was approached by the individual who ran the bar at that time. An older, female griffon.
“Interesting to see one of your kind around here,” she commented on his appearance--her eyes drifted down towards his gloves that ended in fingers. “You new to the area?”
There was a delay in his response. The stallion could feel the tension of the room grow as a few of the patrons’ gaze bored holes through him.
“...Yeah,” he replied at last. His voice was calm, but deep--especially because of the mask he wore over the bottom half of his face. Only his eyes were visible. “You could say something like that.”
The griffon woman became more interested, and decided to focus her attention on him. “I see. In that case, what can I get ya?”
“A simple whiskey shot is fine,” he answered as he prepared to reach for his pocket, “How much?”
The griffon flashed him a smile as she poured the shot. “Oh no, child--this one’s on the house, just for you~” She slid the glass over to him, and leaned over the counter. Her large, hoop earrings dangled, and reflected the light from how bright they were and clashed with her brown feathers. Other than that, she didn’t wear anything else. With her elbow on the counter, and her chin resting in her open palm, she started to make more conversation with him. “Tell me about yourself, honey. I haven’t met a hippogriff before.”
A few of the nearby patrons would make note of this, and mumble to themselves.
“Hippogriff…?”
“Oh…?”
“Thought they lived near the ocean…”
The hippogriff stallion in question simply grasped the glass with his claw, and removed his mask in order to consume the contents of it. “Really? What would you like to know?” he returned her question with one of his own.
While he did that, she had started to idly rub her index finger-claw in a circle against the wood of the counter. “Well, for starters, where are ya from, sugar? And mind tellin’ me where ya headed?”
Before he answered that, the cowboy stallion would think to himself. “She must have a deathwish. Asking something like that is only guaranteed to paint a target on your back. But it’s not like I can refuse after she generously offered me a drink.” And he finally replied, “You really wanna know?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said with a nod, “C’mon now. Humor me.”
He leaned forward, and began his explanation. “You asked for it…”
My life was about as painfully average as one could get.
Ma was always around to help us with homework, cook amazing food, and generally keep us on the right path. She was the one who kept the family in order--a pretty-looking pegasus mare from Appleloosa. The entire town appreciated her for the work as well. See, she’d also spend her time out and about volunteering at the local soup kitchens and sharing her recipes with the local folks. Needless to say, she was like the perfect ma--someone that I could always rely on without fail.
Pa was a bit different. And by that, I mean he was another species entirely. A hippogriff to be exact. ‘Ccordin’ to him, he found his home life on Mt. Aris too stuffy and wanted a change of scenery. So he decided to venture out but passed out one day in the middle of the harsh desert. That’s where ma met him. Needless to say, they kinda hit it off perfectly from there. Anyhow, as far as pa himself goes, he’s a firearms maker. Famous for the Remington line of weapons that his great-great-great-grandpa invented for the sake of personal defense. Griffons were the most common customers, but you did have the occasional pony come by and purchase things. However, his most profitable customers all came from two places:
Klugetown and pirates.
Ma knew this and wanted him to stop servin’ ‘em for the sake of our safety. And you know what? My old man actually obliged. He wasn’t willing to put his family at risk, and started to pursue other forms of business--namely carpentry.
“Wait a minute--” the griffon interrupted his story in pursuit of more details. Simultaneously, she had poured him another shot. “It wasn’t just you in your family?”
The stallion noticed this, and almost raised an eyebrow. “Ah, that’s right. I should have specified that sooner. Also, did you mean to--?”
“Oh go on, drink up, baby,” she encouraged him to have the next shot. “The story you’re telling makes it worth it.”
Since he saw no harm in it, he went ahead and downed the next shot. “Ah. Alright, lemme back up a spell…”
It wasn’t only me involved. There was also my sister and two brothers. I was the youngest and was actually the most cowardly believe it or not. My older brothers would often be the ones to stand up for me during the moments I’d be bullied or pestered at school. They were twins and both looked mostly like hippogriffs like pa. And my older sister--the oldest of us all--kept us rowdy boys in line but would always be there when we needed her help and neither ma nor pa was around. She was darn-tootin’ amazing, and inherited pa's traights for the most part. Her pegasus feathers were more like pa’s hipgriff feather’s
And me. I’m kinda like a weird hybrid of ‘em both. I ain’t got a beak--just like my ma, but I have claws like my pa.
But things got bad one day. Some’a pa’s regulars from Klugetown showed up to our home demandin’ to speak with him. Some Abyssinians. You know, the cat-folk? Well this gang was made up entirely of black cats with those unforgettable, beady, yellow eyes that were like daggers to your soul. Anyway, he went outside to deal with them to avoid exposing us to his business. From what I gather, he refused to sell any more weapons to them, citing that he had a family and found it too much to bear.
Well? They didn’t like this. They roughed him up. And I mean, roughed him up real bad. But that wasn’t all. The leader of the little gang had her cronies storm our house. They attacked ma, pinning her down and tying her up like she was a goddamn hog. The bastards were huge--easily the size of the doorways themselves. A normal pony had no chance of taking them on physically.
“NO! PLEASE! STOP THIS!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
And I still remember pa shouting from the front yard. “LEAVE HER ALONE! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HER!”
Naturally, the assholes didn’t listen. My sister leapt into action, and ordered my twin brothers to get me somewhere safe. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t last long. She was quickly overpowered by the cat gang members, and dragged away as we ran upstairs.
“GET AWAY FROM THEM! DON’T TOUCH MY BROTHERS!!”
Well, as soon as we got there, we heard purring from all angles. We knew there was nothing left for us to do. Nowhere else for us to go. So my older brothers made a decision--a decision that would serve as the only reason why I’m still alive and well.
They both hid me within a secret compartment under pa’s bed where all of his weapons were kept. It was only big enough for me to squeeze into, so they shoved me in. The last words I heard from those two were:
“...We love you, bro.”
“Stay here, and stay quiet...we’ll be back…”
My brothers were not good liars. I knew full well they weren’t coming back the very minute they shut that cellar door. They ran out, and I could only presume they were swiped up by the panthers as well.
However...they didn’t find me.
I stepped outside of the cellar, and found myself alone. Blood splattered all over my house. Claw marks everywhere. I was so taken aback by what had just happened, that I didn’t even cry. I was forced into a stunned silence for what felt like forever.
“Oh…I...I..” The griffon’s tone changed and her eyes shifted downwards. “I had no idea that’s what happened. I’m so sorry…”
The stallion shook his head, and waved his claw downwards to dismiss her words. “Save it. I don’t need your pity.”
Stunned as to what to say next, she tried to rebound off of his response. “I...er...how did you end up where you are now?”
He turned to his left, and propped his hind legs up on the nearby empty stool. “Took pa’s weapons, and started huntin’ bounties. Was the only way I could make money. Now? I’m headin’ down to Klugetown to exact my vengeance on them for taking my family from me.”
“...Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She questioned his intent, “That place is home to some of the most dangerous individuals on the planet.”
He turned to face her once more, his claws interlocked as he put his hands together. “Listen, madam. With all due respect, I’ve been preparin’ myself for this day ever since I hit my teen years. You don’t know me well enough to bother fearin’ for my safety.” He dug into one of his pockets, placed a sack of bits on the counter, and got up from the stool. “What I would like is a room so that I can rest for the night, please.”
The griffon lady broke eye contact with him. Her expression went from strained, to depressed in a matter of seconds. No matter what happened, it wasn’t her place to speak down to a customer. Even if she did want to help out, she didn’t want to make things more awkward.
“Understood, sonny,” she replied, “Can I get your name?”
He stopped in his tracks, and turned his head to answer. “Axel Remington.”