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milliways_bar2006-01-20 02:59 pm
no_justice) wrote in milliways_bar2006-01-20 02:59 pm
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The front door flies open with a loud crashing discord, and something hurtles through at a tremendous pace.
The first impression is one of speed, then one of... OK, no, the impression is only really speed right now as a black and white blur shoots into the bar in a whirl of blue light. It's only when the blur spins and skids across the bar, knocking tables and chairs flying even as it decelerates rapidly, that you can make out a shape.
And you'll probably wish you hadn't.
Take two perfectly ordinary cartwheels. Sling a horse's saddle between them and add a curved piece of piping above the front one. Stick a horse's skull in front, and decorates the rest with feathers, beads, black roses, and most of the rest of the horse. Although why anyone would want to is not really answerable in this entrance post.
The rider of this strange contraption is not wearing a helmet, and if he were, he wouldn't be able to shake uncut unwashed black hair out of it. He is, in fact wearing his normal black cape - which was freshly laundered this morning. Ultimate dark doesn't stay ultimate dark by itself, you know - but over the top of that is another robe: a long, black leather one, borrowed from a wizard. On the back, in leather studs, is picked out the words BORN TO RUNE.
OH BUGGER, WRONG TURNING. SORRY.
[OOC: Kay, this is how it works. Once in a lifetime opportunity to thread with the Pale Rider onna Bike. I'm going home now, and out drinking later, but I WILL pick up any and all tags. So have at!]
The first impression is one of speed, then one of... OK, no, the impression is only really speed right now as a black and white blur shoots into the bar in a whirl of blue light. It's only when the blur spins and skids across the bar, knocking tables and chairs flying even as it decelerates rapidly, that you can make out a shape.
And you'll probably wish you hadn't.
Take two perfectly ordinary cartwheels. Sling a horse's saddle between them and add a curved piece of piping above the front one. Stick a horse's skull in front, and decorates the rest with feathers, beads, black roses, and most of the rest of the horse. Although why anyone would want to is not really answerable in this entrance post.
The rider of this strange contraption is not wearing a helmet, and if he were, he wouldn't be able to shake uncut unwashed black hair out of it. He is, in fact wearing his normal black cape - which was freshly laundered this morning. Ultimate dark doesn't stay ultimate dark by itself, you know - but over the top of that is another robe: a long, black leather one, borrowed from a wizard. On the back, in leather studs, is picked out the words BORN TO RUNE.
OH BUGGER, WRONG TURNING. SORRY.
[OOC: Kay, this is how it works. Once in a lifetime opportunity to thread with the Pale Rider onna Bike. I'm going home now, and out drinking later, but I WILL pick up any and all tags. So have at!]
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YOU'RE NOT GOING TO WIN, YOU KNOW, he points out. YOU CAN'T TAKE THIS PLACE.
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YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR DEPTH, MUSIC.
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THER IS ALWAYS ME.
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Then, control returns, long enough to strum three chords. They hang in the air, the meaning as clear as if they were spoken words.
The guitar strap breaks, spilling the instrument onto the ground as Vachon slumps backward, forehead beaded with blood sweat.
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