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originally posted in:The Digital Dojo
originally posted in: [DIGITAL_DOJO]
3/27/2016 12:35:08 AM
78
[b][i]Deep inside the confines of the Dojo, a man stands. The figure is relatively new to this truly strange location, yet faintly familiar to some who may have spoken to him. The crisp air of the early spring wind brushes past him as he strides, sending his lightly shaded brown duster flying behind him, only returning to its original state in between gusts of wind. He strides forwards, his darkly coloured cowboy boots emitting a clanging of metal when his spurs hit the cold floor, leaving a strange pattern of footsteps in the thin layers of dust, barely able to be seen by the human eye. The lights beat down on his cowboy hat, casting a deep shadow over his face, a single cigar protruding from the emptiness, a feint trail of smoke flying into the air above him. At his sides, a pair of silver revolvers lay, resting in their respective holsters. Resting by a sling on his back is a shotgun, the lights reflecting off the onyx black paint. His hand rests a stony grey, matching nothing on him, causing his right arm to stand out amongst the cowboys outfitting. He comes to a halt at a single, wooden bench, and he gently rests on it, taking a seat and glaring out at the Dojo. Now that he had free time and most of his other chapters in life had concluded, the man decided he would spend his days here primarily. [/i][/b] ((Open.))
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