The city of St. Browning.
Named after the hot-blooded war priestess of legend, it's one of the 7 major cities of the Kingdom of Zerata, each named after the brave crusaders that liberated the land from a "beast born of iron and malice." The patron saint of gunslingers everywhere, it is very common to see them pray for her guidance before pulling a trigger.
Anything and everything in this place revolved around answering one question, one that the saint did as well: "Will this let me kill easily?". Annoyed by how often she finds herself in a rough spot when fighting mages or anyone that uses ranged attacks, she exchanged her maul for a pair of flintlocks, poured hours into studying smithing and spent her savings to buy a huge quantity of silver ore which she then turned into ammunition.
Accounts from the other crusaders say that they watched her painstakingly bless each packet of silver shots and gunpowder during their downtime in between adventures, and that they'd never forget the sound of her laughter as she unloaded shot after shot into the abjurer archmage that was giving them trouble, who apparently did not take in account the possibility of a cold, silver shower from a sleep-deprived cleric.
This was perhaps the most famous account of gunplay that became the catalyst for its rise in popularity among adventurers, and from then on she paved the path for future gunslingers and gunsmiths who admired her way of life.
As such her followers dedicated their lives to perfecting the craft of gunsmithing and marksmanship, each one dedicated to making a firearm “fit for a vagrant and a saint”. Everyone is expected to be knowledgeable about firearms, and the city itself has the highest concentration of gunslingers compared to the others.
Every innovation, every advancement of technology was for the creation of better firearms and gunpowder-related weaponry. As they only focused their research efforts on this single aspect, they quickly gained fame as the foremost authority in anything gun-related. Expectedly so, they also gained infamy as guns became the tool of choice for thugs due to their ease of use.
The citizens do not seem to mind this negative publicity, however; in fact, they love this reputation of being a haven for those that live and die by the gun. Those who embrace the same ideals are welcomed by them, and in recent years outsiders have begun to dabble in the city’s prized art and make their own destructive creations.
It is in this city that the journey of Diether Gecko began, and here he is currently on his way to conduct his business there.
But, currently, he has a more pressing concern to deal with than whatever was in his itinerary. A concern that’s been trying to tear him to shreds with a high power machine gun-arm.
With a tired groan, Diether adjusts his hat and leaped from cover to return fire.
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I don’t have time for this!
This was in Diether’s mind as the firefight went on longer than he expected. Neither side has been able to land a single shot, as Mckay would transform his arm into a large shield to deflect Diether’s shots, while Diether would either dodge or use Transmutation magic to reinforce the seats he’s using as cover.
Without it, those magic-empowered bullets will rip them to pieces in mere seconds, corpses of the passengers included.
“Still feelin’ sleepy, Reaper?!” McKay’s voice can be barely heard amidst the barrage of his gun-arm, but Diether can feel that his enemy is rubbing it in his face that he cannot mount any sort of offense against the oppressive gunfire. “If you want to take a nap so bad, then why don’t you come out of there so I can put you to sleep forever?”
“You’re damn right I just want to go back to my seat and sleep! So if you won’t shut the hell up, then I’ll force you to be quiet forever myself!” Banter was never his strongest suit, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get the last word in.
Vaulting from the seat he was hiding behind, Diether leapt at McKay while firing, hoping to close in for a point blank shot but McKay saw through his move and sidestepped his charge, to Diether’s surprise. Seeing the opportunity, he tried to grab the off-balanced Diether before he could recover and give him a taste of his own medicine.
Instead, he only got his other hand blown off for his trouble as Diether managed to twist around in time and shoot, with that feral look in his face that people came to know him for. As he didn’t want to risk any follow-ups , Mckay retreated behind cover instead of firing back at Diether.
“I told you I’m taking more than your arm today!” Diether bragged to a reeling McKay as he kipped up from the blood-soaked floor. “I gotta hand it to you: you actually learned some footwork, but it’s not enough to save you.”
“You only got my hand! Don’t think for a second that I’m just gonna roll over and die!” McKay was grimacing in pain, but he’s not gonna give the smirking Diether the satisfaction of knowing that he’s in agony. “You just got my back against the ropes, that’s it! I’m not out for the count!”
Diether looked him in the eye as he reloaded his guns, but stopped midway as he was about to load the final cartridge in one of them. He holstered the other gun, took the bullet out with and held it out towards McKay.
“You got that right. I got you against the ropes. And I’m about to give you more to hang yourself with.”
Diether flicked the bullet like a coin high up in the air, then shot McKay. As Mckay was still feeling the effects of his wound, he had no choice but to take Diether’s attacks head-on.
One…Two…
Changing up his strategy, Diether is now shooting McKay at different parts of his massive frame, forcing him to use his shield to deflect his bullets. Conditioning him to respond via blocking.
Three…Four…
Keeping track of ammunition in the heat of battle is key for any self-respecting gunslinger, whether they use magic firearms or not. This is especially true for Diether, who uses revolvers in a style of gunplay that makes it extremely hard to reload them mid-fight.
This time, however, he can’t afford to slip up. He counted each shot in his mind while carefully aiming them.
And finally, his chance to end the fight came.
FIVE!
“Kh–! Y-you gotta be…kidding...”
A perfectly placed shot on a freefalling bullet’s primer as it was angled towards McKay’s exposed torso. As he was trying to block the fourth shot aimed at his face, the shield obstructed his view which prevented him from noticing the trap Diether placed.
“W-what the hell happened…” was all McKay could muster as his strength was slowly sapped by the injuries he took. The once towering outlaw is now on his knees, rooted firmly in his spot by the pain.
Diether walked over towards him, pulling out the other fully loaded revolver and twirling it in his hand.
“Weren’t you listening? I told you that I’d give you just enough rope to hang yourself, and you just did.”
Try as he might, Mckay couldn’t seem to transform his arm to try and defend himself. There was only a low, whirring sound, like the engine of a car that’s struggling to start.
“Wh-what did you…”
“.357 Stigma. As you may already know, a weapon that’s enchanted with Necromancy will mess up with any creature’s body, tricking it into destroying itself instead of healing. It also fries every bodily function as a bonus. Even the tiniest graze will become a grievous wound in minutes, and you’ll gradually lose control of your body.”
Diether pressed the muzzle of his revolver against McKay’s temple and cocked the hammer back. His face no longer wore that crazed look he had before, and instead it was a cold, expressionless face that McKay found staring back at him.
“Today’s your lucky day. There’s only 6 rounds chambered in this gun, and I can’t be bothered to waste more on you for all these people you killed, and I don’t have the luxury of time with me as well. The best I can do for them is make every shot count. You better pray you die quickly, or this will be painful.”
Not soon after, six gunshots rang through the cabin, each followed by a scream of pain.
