[b] Disclaimer:[/b] This is snippet in a series of narrative-like stories I decided to start writing. I may write more if this does well. This is just an introduction of my possible first character, so please, let me know what you guys think. Any feedback is welcome-not just positive. And yes, I can and will do other classes, but it's easy to write this character because I myself am a Gunslinger. But telling me what you guys want to see is fine too. [i]-Chapter One: The Good Fighters[/i] Legends, huh? Yeah, no. I don't think so. "Legend". Basically? Just another word for "myth". Tall tale. Stuff parents would tell kiddies to keep 'em [b]shut the hell up.[/b] I never believed in 'em. Only legends I told were the ones I either made or saw my damn self. And they ain't no tall tales. Don't bother with blowin' smoke unless it's comin' from a hand cannon. Hell, I was chatting it up with Cayde-6 the other day about a legend. Didn't have half a thing to do otherwise, so I bugged him about the ace he always has stuck on the charlie horse region of his arm. Asked if there was a reason behind it. Of course, I was shootin' the ship. Didn't really [i]care[/i]. Anythin'll top listening to Zavala run off about duty and all that other Thrall spit, or pushin' Ikora into startin' one of them grandiose lectures 'bout how Guardians should wield light with "grace" n' "conviction". [i]What a load of baloney.[/i] I always pointed and shot at stuff before I mastered Light. Why change that when I got the stuff in me? Just another gun, only with three shots. Packin' an entirely new type of heat, though. You know what irks me? Whole time she explained it, I was rollin' my eyes all over the friggin' place. She didn't react once. Anyway, more on that later. Back to Cayde's ramblin' about the spade. Oh, right. It was an Ace of Spades. Part of me figured it had somethin' to do with gamblin'-which it did, but not in a way I had thought it was gonna. Asked me if I knew what a "Dead Man's Hand" was. Honest? Not really. It's a poker hand with a couple aces and eights in it, but I never knew the fifth card. Apparently nobody did. Barely knew the others. Hell, I never gambled or was inta games and stuff like that since I've been to the Tower shit all but two times in my lifetime. They say this is "the home of Guardians." My ass. Vagrant, vagabond, nomad, whatever words yer usin' to describe me works, but my home has always been anywhere I can set up camp. But the story. Back to that. Some dude from this archaic place he called "the old west" way in the Americas died with this hand, fifth card still face down, other four covered in the man's blood. At first, I honestly didn't give half a Dreg's ass, but what snatched up my attention swift-like was when Cayde mentioned the guy was a gunfighter and lawman who brought order to an era that people were damn near hell-bent on destroyin' each other for stupid stuff like money, n' fame. Reminds me alotta myself, truth be told. Though "lawman" is a stretch, since I bent a few rules out there in the black. But that story stuck to me. I was always proud, to be sure, but somethin' about that story made my shoulders stand a bit more broad than some of the other Hunters. Now don't get me wrong-I respect a Hunter's freedom of ingenuity and all them mutil-syllable words Rahool taught me. What gets them to survive out there alone? That's on them. But when I step off my ship, knee-deep in Hive shit on the far edge of the system where the Light from me is shinin' brighter than the Traveler's, I get even more pride knowin' I do things the old fashioned way. The way old Wild Bill did, I guess-but with more kick, and less dyin'. After all, if yer not makin' dust, yer eatin' it. A lesson I hope I ain't gotta learn the hard way like he did. Just thought it was somethin' to take pride in, y'know? Straightforward, honest type of stuff. No gimmicks or tricks or daily meditation for "Light Affinity" bullshit. A Hunter who took their habit of slappin' iron on the hip, added some of the Light, and... ...well, truth as it be, I don't know how it works. One night, after my first visit to the tower, where Ikora broke down the basics n' shit of a Guardian's power, I was practicin' channeling that energy she was goin' on about and I neglected to put down my .44 when I did it. Next thing I knew, I lifted it up and the damn thing was on fire. And so was I. Bright enough to where I was almost sure I was reflectin' as much light offa the moon as the sun was. Made three craters firin' joy shots before I realized the shit was dangerous and in limited supply-like dragon's breath 12 gauge rounds that had a damn sun in each pellet. Told Ikora. Said that I "finally found what affinity of Light" I held. Asked Cayde to translate that gobbledygook for me, since Ikora's wizard-talk always goes right over my dusty, grime-covered helm and hood. He said I was a Gunslinger.