Sunset Over Bethesda: A Horror-Western RPG – v.2!

DeletedUser

Name: Jameson "Schofield" McCoy

Age: 28

Race: Human, Mother is rumored to been a Vampire

Gender: Male


Occupation: Criminal wanted in 9 states; 6 of which for murder, rape, robbery, manslaughter, arson, and resisting arrest. 3 States for over 12 violent crimes.


Physical characteristics/Appearance: man with a good height of 6'0. Medium length brown hair, with a "Chevron" moustache and stubble. Nearly pale skin. Silvery eyes. Medium sized nose with a noticeable bend because of a fracture, smooth forehead. Muscular. Elongated canine teeth. Wears a variety of clothes, mostly black.

Biography: It is said that Jameson was the spawn of evil; His mother rumored to be a vampire and his father one of the worst men in the west. He was born in Abeline Kansas, 9 months after his father went on a violent killing spree causing the deaths of 98 people. Soon after his birth, the family left Kansas in search of new lands. He was an only child, on his 3rd birthday, his mother was murdered by a mob of church folk who claimed to have had proof that she was a vampire, and they wanted Jameson next. His father fled with him to a small town within the Arazona territory. There, his father laid low and taught Jameson how to fend for himself.

By the age of eight, Jameson had killed his first victim. A farmer who had wandered onto the property looking for escaped goats, father had captured him and ordered Jameson to kill him and drink his blood. Jameson oblidged. Jamesons thirteenth birthday was celebrated with four young women in their late teens that father had captured, He left their fate purely up to Jameson. It is believed that they were kept as slaves for four years, and then released. It is also a popular claim that they were bitten by Jameson and they were transformed into vampires and let loose to prowl the frontier. Another popular myth is that after Jameson was finished with them, he simply released them for the enjoyment and gratification he had gotten out of the experience. Regardless of the favored myths, they turned up at a local saloon four years later working as *****s.

Jameson grew up on the bloody violence that his father brought to him through the years. In all, some 26 people were slain by Jameson personally, countless others abused for ritual, sexual, and inhumane purposes. On Jamesons 18th birthday, his father deserted him. Jameson simply woke up and found that he was alone. Slaves who were kept at the house were gone as well, along with even the livestock. The only animal left was a deep black horse by the name of Goliath. The horse was fully saddled, and packed with gear needed for a long journey. Jameson knew what he was going to have to do. The Western frontier awaited his havoc, and he was ready for bloodshed. But, as he was mounting the dark horse, he noticed something sticking from the saddlebag. A modified Schofield revolver, with the cylinder capable of loading and firing the common .45 Colt ammunition. Jameson decided to go by the Alias of "Schofield" ever since, only letting close friends reffer to him as Jameson.


After ten years of devestation, destruction, massacre, and other haneous crimes against humanity, Jameson had a revelation. It appeared to him during a dream after he had slaughtered a family and was even sleeping in their bed. He saw hundreds of people, lined up facing him. They were bowing to him, as if he were a god. He was atop a black horse, with silky sheets of hair. In his holster was his Schofield, and he was wearing all black. He held in his hand a silver and gold Cavalry sabre, and the people cheered. Then they began to rip each other apart... They bit, tore and did haneous acts against each other, much like he had done to his victims. Then he realized, these people in his dreams were his victims. He was a Horseman of the apocalypse in this dream, and a town sign stated the word "Bethesda"... Suddenly he snapped awake. He would not let himself end the world in this manner, and he realized that the only way to escape the past was to remove himself from his passtime of destruction. He decided to escape from it all, He wanted to travel to the dark and posessed town of bethesda, and instead of ruling it with hatred and demonic servants, he would preach the word of the faithful, and save it from falling victim to other evil beings, or atleast himself...
 
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DeletedUser

The rider vaulted off of his horse, who bolted away at a speed far too fast for the werewolf to match in his wounded state. Cy's antagonist managed to retrieve the sword, rolling away from another swipe of the infuriated creature's paw and subsequently putting pressure onto his own wounds. He sprung to his feet, nimbly evading a second strike and managed to retrieve the revolver from it's holster in his belt, emptying two shots into his charging enemy, but not before the claws of the great paw slashed across his chest, ripping through the tough fabric of his duster, his vest, his shirt and down into his flesh. The man let out a guttural growl which rose into an inhuman howl of rage, a sound no normal person could make. His sunglasses had clattered to the ground, revealing hellish red irises starkly contrasted against black sclera. The monster within had awakened and it would not be silenced.

(OOC: Welcome, David and MissRayne!!!)
 
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DeletedUser

(Ohhhh, Vampire? Only a short post, Don't know much yet XD.)

Cy watched and halted his heavy panting as he stood up stright and watched the figure change as he crouched down low and said to himself "Vampire? Lycan?" he though about other possabilitys but most were demolisted in his thoughts as he let out a large sigh and thought *Killing werewolfs' Only work to them* He lunged forward and lungfed the figure to the gorund snapping at it.
 

DeletedUser

Biography

Name:
Evangeline Barrett
Age:
22
Race:
Vampire

Gender:
Female

Occupation:
Gambler, deals Faro *want to Buck the Tiger, boys?*

Physical characteristics/Appearance:
Her clothes are well made, but well used, the fabrics have seen their day in the sun and it wasn't kind. Still, in the oily light of a saloon her complexion looks 'almost' warm. The wide silk scarf she wears about her neck hide the gashes where she tried to escape her attacker... and failed.

Her brown hair is unremarkable and pulled back from her face it is barely noticed at night, seeming to take on the color of the late hour. Her eyes are soft brown, the color bleeding into black when she hungers.

She wears no powder on her skin, but has taken to the lip paint some women use to bring some color to her face.

Biography:
Petite thanks to her mother's side of the family, Evangeline has always been the one picked on by others, it was no different when she took a job on the wrong side of town. It was easy for the women to get the upper hand and the men to take whatever they wanted.

It was a late night when the Saloon closed and she left for home, she would never 'live' to see the dawn. The priest told her family that a feral animal and hunted her down in the alley, torn into her throat from hunger. He told them he'd watch over the body while the undertaker crafted the casket.

He never told them what he was planning to do to the body. He was still preparing the wooden stake when she drained him dry and left him staring wide eyed into the afterlife.
 

DeletedUser

Name: Is alternating, at times his name of Eldon Eugene and at the other times his name is Silas, just Silas.

Age: 37

Occupation: Theif, impossible to have a job when you are nuttier then squirrel turds.

Appearance:

Eldon and Silas are both six feet three inches tall. They have shaggy red hair and blue eyes. They have normal muscle mass, but have an incredible endurance, able to work or kill all day long without a moments rest.

Biography:

Eldon was born on a long journey, headed anywhere but Ohio.

When he was 5 years old, A band of Apaches attacked the cabin they had come to call home. He watched from under a high seated rocking chair as his mother and sister were attacked, in a very humilating way, then his father and brother were tortured to death. The final act of cruelty was carving deep grooves into his family's skin and filling it with gunpowder.

The dancing and screaming that his family did before they died beat Eldon into himself and the first white name he heard was now his own, Silas, after his father.

Now the gentle, peace loving human being, the kind that loves animals and never drinks, comes out less and less and the rage fueled mad man named Silas is always at the forefront.

Silas is a warhorse, plain and simple. If there is a fight to be had, he is there, usually stoking the fires, by murdering family members on both sidesof any conflict. He loves to see everything burn at the end, his final sick pleasure.

Eldon is a hard worker. He loves horses, dogs, cats and rodents. He wouldn't hurt another human being if you threatened to kill him. He finds the best in all humans, no matter how terrible they really are. Detesting violence, Eldon carries the good book in his saddlebags, but everytime Silas takes over, it disappears.

Eldon and Silas are both completly ignorant of each others existance and each think they have a sleeping disorder that lets them sleep for long peiriods of time without waking.
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Eldon's eyes fluttered open, above him rainclouds were forming, big and black against the blue sky. Standing at his picket, a horse nickered and stomped, alerting it's stupid rider that it was breakfast time and horses were not to be kept waiting. Eldon took in a deep breath of fresh air, sighing happily, today was going tto be a good day, no matter whhat the storm clouds said about it.

Later on that morning, Moses the horse munched grain, as Eldon hunched over a cooking fire. The aroma of cooking bacon wafted through the area. A pot of black coffee sat on a grate next to the frying pan, a thin column of steam was starting to rise from the pot's spout.

Eldon got down on his hands and knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. He prayed, there on the ground, giving thanks for all of his many blessings. He had a good friend, his horse, a rifle in the saddleboot, good boots and good food. What more could someone ask?

Later that day, as the clouds rolledin from the north and a heavy rain began to fall, Eldon lost his good mood. Now he was surly, annoyed and punchy. As the day wore on, Eldon fell further and further into his madness.

When the clouds finally parted, a different man altogether rode Moses, in fact now the horse was named Satan and a hard man named Silas rode him. Both horse and rider were soaked through and Silas was coughing hard.

Silas was distraught at his inability to sleep and wake up in one place. When he went to sleep last night he was still in the mountains, now he was somewhere in new mexico territory, judging by the terrain. He resolved to talk to a Doctor about his condition in the next town.
 
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DeletedUser

(OOC: I've been struck with the urge to draw up a fancy poster of sorts for our RPG. If all players could gather or draw reference pictures for their characters/clothing/weapons and send the URLs to me I can start drawing! ^_^)

The rider cried out as Cy's body slammed him into the hard-packed earth and he felt at least two ribs crack from the impact, his revolver spinning out of his hand as the enormous creature struck him again. His brain flooded his body with more adrenaline, causing his fury to override the pain from his wounds. He craned his neck, sinking his teeth into the werewolf's right forearm with enough force to give a normal man's bones a compound fracture. The hot blood leaked from the pierced flesh into his mouth, trickling from the corners of his lips.

His frame convulsed and he managed to grab the werewolf's injured forearm, releasing his jaws and twisting the limb until he heard a satisfying crack. Somehow he rolled away from his would-be slaughterer, fetched the revolver and emptied the last four shots. The cavalry sword was lying not far from his current position, though this required him to sprint in order to grab it, aggravating his various wounds further. The rider scrambled up a nearby ledge, snarling in pain. He had survived far worse fights with far deadlier enemies, though Cy was indeed an impressive foe.
 

DeletedUser

Cy howled and fell to the floor saying "Well, Not my best of fights" he said as he limped off as his victim had scudeled away he roared in an attempt to scare or at least make his victim jump, He was the victim now, But he was certian he had caused quite a bit of damage, He could taste blood on his tounge, Although none was present.

He whimpered as he held his paw on his wounded arm, His other was a little better now from the shot, Cy was certian he could have beaten the beast, If only he hadn't sustained injuries before hand, After all he was the size of a large horse drawn cart almost 3 times as large as the human forumed creature he fought...

He walked to his cave where he sat by a watering hole licking and bathing his injuries as he though of the last few hours.

(http://www.thehuntersmoon.com/images/werewolf-pictures/thumbnails/werewolf.gif My pic, Sorry, Couldn't find one with brown shabby fur or red eyes, So if you can draw them in please XD.)
 

DeletedUser

Donovan sat on the couch in his office, having left the Roy brothers' saloon with Lily to ensure the hysterical child thrust into his care would have proper medical treatment should he require it. The little boy lay asleep on the other side of the couch, Donovan's coat draped over his small body like a blanket. Lily was seated in a rocking chair next to the couch, the alcohol she consumed earlier having worn off considerably. She placed a hand on her friend's shoulder and the doctor absently patted it. Sighing, he stretched his arms over his head and cracked a few stiff joints.

"I'd best get back to work. Will you be able to watch our mystery child here?" Donovan inquired, standing up and adjusting his tie. Lily nodded, gently lifting the coat off of the boy, then passing it to the doctor. As he turned to grab his bag of medical supplies and surgeon's tools, she touched his cheek softly.

"Godspeed, Donovan."

Donovan tipped his hat, smiled briefly and stepped out the door, his melancholy slightly lessened than usual. He had little time to dwell on his friend's ambiguous gesture, for he was needed at the stagecoach stop, where he was to attend to the newest influx of settlers arriving later in the evening. Tonight would certainly be a long stint.

(OOC: Yep, he's a bit oblivious to that one....heehee. Welcome, Peril!!! =D)
 
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DeletedUser

Cy finished his wounds, They were clean... For once, He stopped and touched his wound on his shoulder, The blood had dried, His skin started to itch as in his head one of his concience said to him "Cyrus...Give us food!!" they started to get louder and louder until Cy roared as they screamed in his ear, He jumped down onto the hard earth as he said "Foood...Foooood!" he said as his mouth drew wet with saliva as they screaming transformed into the sound of his paws thumping down on the hard earth as he rushed towards a settler caravan, He launched himself onto one of the carts, He noticed it as the supplies cart, It tipped showing him the large heard of cattle behind, He licked his chops ad picked a large fat cow up and wolfed it down enjoying the sweet blessed hot meat as it slid down his throat, He swung around and bit down taking in the top half of the farmer about to jab him with a [itch fork he yelled "FOOD!!" as he devaroued the man in one bite, He lanuched himself forward agian knocking over half of a dozen men as he gorged himself upon there flesh, After a few more minuets he finished being nothing more than a bloody mess he returned to a watering hole where he bathed noticing his wounds had shrunk by about 1 1/8 th.
 

DeletedUser

Satan reared, his hooves pawing at the air. Silas, caught off guard, nearly toppled out of the saddle, but managed to latch onto the saddle horn in time. The huge gelding snorted in fear, but settled dowwn, as Silas exclaimed "Woah Satan!"

Silas could now see over his chestnut's head and he bit back a curse. In the middle of the road, a dark figure was hunched over, chewing on another, much smaller figure. It looked like an overgrown wolf and Silas could see foam trailing from the rabid cur's gaping maw and pooling in the dirt at it's feet. It's two feet. Now Silas could see more detail, a high humped back, spartan of fur, but for a few bristly tines. Over muscled arms grasped what looked to be a human toddler, with huge yellow, beast like fingnails. The most striking feature of the hideous creature before him was it's massive jaws, set beneath eyes that glowed red, the color of freshly spilled blood.

"What in the hell is that?" Silas muttered to himself, as his hair trigger reflexes pulled his 4440 Winchester from it's place beside the saddle horn. In a single motion, honed over two decades of constant conflict, Silas brought the rifle's muzzle to bare on the beast. The lever action made a comforting clicking sound, telling Silas he had a whole rifle to kill this monstrosity with.

The moment Silas'es rifle was on target and primed, the beast suddenly bolted off the road. A grey black blur set amidst pillars of pitch, the mysterious animal held it's dinner in it's jaws, as it's errily human like legs propelled it into the desert at great speed, to fast for a horse to catch.

Silas was shocked into stunned silence. Satan still nickered with remembered fright, but his legs were stock still and ready to bolt. Remebering that blood splattered maw and the half eatenbaby, Silas put the spurs to Satan and the huge chestnut roared forward.

Silas had been through this part of the country only once before, but he had been through a small town named Bethesda, so logic dictated he should go there. Yet, the warrior instinct that had kept him alive his entire life got tthe short hairs at his nape to stand bolt upright, as if at attention. Silas constantly looked backwards during his flight into the town, always expecting to see the huge wolf coming up fast behind him, but always only glimpsing shadows and flashes of white teeth. Somehwere during his flight into Bethesda, the creature decided he was already full on human and Silas was to much trouble, but the hired gun kept his horse going at a breakneck pace.

Raising up enough dust to blind all those around him to his arrival, Satan and Silas fogged into town. The huge gelding upset a cart during his flight through town, but hardly broke stride, as the appled, pears and peaches were smooshed under his steel shod hooves.

Silas pulled the horse to a stop, outside what looked to be a doctor's office. "Just the man I wanted to see." Silas muttered, spitting upon the ground. Silas wasn't crazy, he knew that, but he also knew no one would believe what he saw out there on the road, so he decided to act as if nothing happened. People got locked up for this kind of thing.

A man standing on teh boardwalk pointed the town's doctor out, a man in his mid to late thirties, standing on the boardwalk across the street. Silas approached "I need to talk to you, Doctor!"
 

DeletedUser

"What can I do for you, friend? What seems to be the trouble?"

Donovan regarded the tall stranger and his massive chesnut gelding with a critical, quick motion of his dark eyes. The pair practically reeked of exertion and terror. The red-haired man was clearly attempting to maintain enough control over his emotions to keep himself in check. The doctor subtly lowered his voice, leaning forward to ensure he would not be overheard by the wrong citizens.

"Follow me, don't make eye contact with anyone. Last thing you need is unnecessary panic and I've already buried fifteen coffins this week alone. I've got some brandy here.....you look like you could use the whole damn bottle." Donovan remarked, tossing a flask up to the other man. Once the trio reached a back alley, he sat on a crate and peered intently at him.

"Before you say a word, I want you to know something. I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but you've come here at an interesting point in time for our town. Ever since that silver was discovered six months ago, people have been pouring in like rats. Now, I've lived in Bethesda for ten years and whenever the settlers start coming, the coffins start to pile up. People disappear. People go mad. Others are found torn to bits. Why am I telling you all these things? Well, you honestly look like you've seen what supposedly isn't meant to exist in our 'enlightened' and modern 19th century."

(OOC: Great posts, guys!!!! =D)
 
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DeletedUser

The half breed doctor upturned a milk crate and had asked Silas to sit, Silas abliged. Listening half heartedly, Silas pulled a revlover from his hip. As Doctor Lassen began talking about strange disappearances, Silas broke the gun open and filled the empty chamber he always kept under the hammer, replacing the gun in it's holster Peril worked an Arkansas Toothpick from the top of his right boot.

When the doctor had finished, Peril replaced the Bowie knife in it's boot sheath and looked at Lassen "Listen, Doc, I ain't sure what I saw out there. For all I know it was a rabid dog, or an overgrowed mountain lion."

The image of the beast's blood red eyes flashed before Silas'es eyes. The vision of that beast started a chain reaction deep within his mind. Somewhere, a door opened that shouldn't have and the sudden reflex to ask where he was nearly overpowered him. Suddenly, questions, thoughts and emotions Silas had never felt in his entire life surged to the surface. Silas pitched from the milk crate onto his knees in front of Lassen, an inner battle begining in his mind.

Eldon surged forward, Silas tried to quell him. Eldon wouldn't give up and he pushed forward subconsciously. Eldon and Silas both grappled for control, this had never happened before. Usually when Eldon took over, it happened gradually, or while Silas was sleeping, never forcefully. The whole encounter baffled Silas, his mind might still be upset over the beast on the road.

Suddenly, Silas was back in the real world, on his knees in front of Doctor Lassen.

Silas looked up a confused look on his face "Excuse me Doc." Silas sat back onto the milk crate.

Silas refused to say a word, but behind Doctor Lassen, he could see a man who was a dead ringer for Silas. Right down to the baby blue eyes.
 

DeletedUser

*Welcome Jameson guys :D roll on: Mystic and Severe!*

Days of riding had fatigued Jameson, his eyes were sore, his legs were limp, and his horse seemed to be a few days away from death, when he finally saw the town, 'Bethesda' only a mile and a half away. "Kehaw!" He screamed, as he spurred the black horse, which sprang into a fast paced gallop. Apart from his .45 Colt Schofield, he had a twin barrel shotgun stowed in the left saddle holster, with a winchester '73 on the opposite. Jameson also had a tomahawk, he had purchased it from a town at least 15 miles back for a few dollars, the man had claimed it was cursed with the spirit of the indian family who had made it many years back, only to be killed with their own creation years later. The head of the tomahawk was different from others, it was formed from an odd metal, the man had said it was rare and expensive. Jameson didn't care, as long as it was sharp, looked good, and could kill something, he liked it.
 
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DeletedUser

Katelyn appeared in front of the Doc. "Doc, where is Jim? I can't...find him. I smell his blood, but I cannot trace him. Please tell me you have seen him?" she asked. For the past hours, she was been running all over town in the shadows, looking for Jim. She had smelt his blood, and that it had been drawn, but the exact location is hidden from her.

"Did he...did he chase after one of the hags? Or a rogue? Please, tell me," she begged. From her dark red eyes tears formed. Jim was the only man she had known and loved. The only family she had ever had in this forsaken world. And she couldn't lose him. She wouldn't lose him.


"Urgh," a man groaned. Jim didn't know where he was. Was he dead? No, if he was dead, Katelyn would have made sure that he would've lived. Even though Jim strongly does not wish to live the afterlife here on Earth. No, Jim was in some abandoned house. Probably in a basement some distance away from town. But why? Jim did not know, but he presumed he was being held captive. It was completely dark, but he could feel his hands bound by chains. He did not feel the weight of his weapons at his side. He was damn sure he was being held captive, but by who? Jim did not have answers, but he would figure that out. His captor would interrogate him, and probably end Jim's life.

But Jim knew this much. As soon as he had exited the saloon, something had got him completely by surprise. And he knows it wasn't a man. It was one of the monsters, a hag, vampire, werewolf...it was one of these things. And he presumed it had to do something with Kate. "What would they need from me?" he thought. He was groggy and still half-unconscious. It was not soon before he went back into a deep slumber.

OCC: Computer broke. Viruses got through. And some more family troubles. Sorry I haven't been on. What I miss?
 
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DeletedUser

The horse finally began to trot on a gravel road, instead of shrubberies and sands. The horse swayed its head side to side, slowly succumbing to its thirst. Jameson directed the animal towards the saloon, watching a big burly man walk out. The man had an awkward appearance, something seemed unrighteous about him. But, Jameson himself had done very unrighteous things, perhaps there were more like the mysterious man inside the saloon, guzzling up whiskey. Jameson Stepped off his dehydrated horse and tied it to a post, near a water trough. The poor thing began to lap up as much water as it could in one mouth full. Jameson steadily straightened his Stetson, as if he was about to meet his maker. He walked up to the batwing doors and with a nudge, swung them both open and went on through. Instead of seeing a mass of beer happy patrons sipping up every drop in their glasses, he found the place deserted. There was not even a bartender in the place. It was vacant. A few bottles had been emptied, several others smashed against the ground near the counter. Apparently, in the owner's absence, someone had looted the place. There were plenty of empty spaces on the shelves, and a single nameplate of a 'Jim Roy' steadily mounted on one of the walls. Jameson removed his Stetson and placed it on his chest. The darkness of the saloon had been a sad scene, he was hoping to at least make an impression on someone, even though the only impression he was good at making was a bite mark on someone's neck, or the removal of a life from the forsaken world. Regardless, the saloon was empty of any future acquaintances and victims, so Jameson decided to simply take one of the bottles from the shelf and get a little liquored up to celebrate finally making it to Bethesda. After all, he rode his horse harder through the desert than a fat man has ridden an ass. {Pun explanation: At the time, laxatives were not easy to come by.} In fact, when he looked down he realized one of his spurs was missing from his boot. He would need to get some rest and get redressed eventually, but enjoying the abandoned beer was the only thing on the menu, for now.

(OCC: James, James, James... What do you think you missed???)
 
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DeletedUser

"I suggest putting that bottle down," a man said from the stairway. He was holding a double-barreled shotgun, pointing at the man who was taking a sip from his drink.

"Do not try to reach for your gun. I've lived long enough to fight anything. More importantly, your kind. And yes, I can tell of your abilities boy. You have that aura around you that yells out killer," Phillip Roy said.

"Now tell me, where are your...friends...hiding my brother? I have not seen him since he rushed out of the saloon, and unless I see him with Katelyn, I suspect you are holding him hostage. And now expect to kill me too," he said. He walked down the stairs onto the ground floor and stood behind the counter, still pointing the gun at him.

"Also, that's five dollars buddy," he said.
 

DeletedUser

"Let me tell ya, big man." Jameson said with a sarcastic grin, and he looked up at the man. "You don't know the half of it." And he downed the rest of the bottles contents. Gentley, he sat the bottle on the counter. "As for the whiskey..." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a single gold coin and placed it on the table. "Done been paid for." And he began to walk towards the door...
 

DeletedUser

how about this for modern horror?


a couple were up in the mountins late at night doing what young couples do in the back of the car when they heard and crack of a twig. the young male who was about 19 years old said " what was that?" and the female said "i dont know, you had better go check it out." so the male said "OK" in very shaky tone. he got out of the car and said " i'l be back in a minute" and set of......in ten minutes he wasnt back and the female was getting scared......halve an hour after he had left the female wass peeing herself when she heard a drip drip drip drip on the car roof. she got out of the car screaming, looked up saw the male hanging up from a tree abouve dripping blood, she turned around screaming and saw a man with a dripping blood knife closing in for the kill.......
 

DeletedUser

"I want my brother creature. I know one of you monsters took him. Now give me an answer before that brain of yours finds itself missing from where it's supposed to be," Phillip said. He aimed the gun and put his finger on the trigger.

"I know how fast you creatures can be. But split second timing, and something me and my brother have perfected, and your a dead monster," he said. "Now, what is your business here? And are you in possession of my brother?"
 
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