Posquale Dimarco

Posquale DiMarco Background:

A blinding flash cascades across the pitch black sky and briefly illuminates a dark figure in a doorway. The quiet sound of boots steps their way into the pub, walking up to a barstool, and stop for a moment. Onlookers stare at the individual as he flings his cloak open with ferocity, the audience all draw their pistols at the wanderer at an instant. Without flinching, the shady drifter hops up onto the stool, and situates himself and orders a pint with a finger. The patrons holster their weapons and sit back down looking a bit embarrassed.

“What be a green-skin doin’ so far from home?” asks the bartender, “Your kind ain’t taken too kindly to ‘round these parts.”

The goblin sits quiet, sipping the pint. His brown, wide-brimmed hat lifts exposing a glaring red eye, and recedes again. He lets out a quiet laughter, continuing to drink his beverage. Few would notice his cloak shift slightly, even the most perceptive of adventurers. A dark metallic ball rolls out to the middle of the pub; the patrons who notice look confused by the object rolling to the middle of the room.
One particularly large individual leans over and picks up the item, turns it over and realizes it’s lit, “WHAT THE F….”, before he’s able to finish, a shockwave of sparks, smoke and shrapnel rips through the room flinging tables, chairs, and limbs.

As his ears are still ringing, the goblin crawls out from behind the bar, and stands up to witness his destruction. A huge grin grows across his flat face. Immediately he starts making his way through the debris towards a door near the back of the pub, and attempts to open it, but is locked. He grabs his picks and sets to work.
A voice rings out from the front of the tavern, “You got that door open, DiMarco?” As the smoke clears, crashing is heard as a group of men move towards the door where the goblin works. “We gotta’ make this quick before the sheriff and his posse get here. I sure would hate to put this town out of another law man.”
The door clicks open and DiMarco rushes down to the basement with the group of men. On the opposite wall resides a large vault door. The men approach and stare at each other, then to their apparent leader.

“What now, boss?” one of the four goons barks out.

“Shut up, let DiMarco do his job.”

DiMarco walks up to the vault, analyzing the intricacies of the door, and where it meets the wall. Scanning up and down, he motions for a lift. One of the men grabs a ladder laying on the ground and props it up for DiMarco to use. The goblin climbs up to the top of the vault, and lodges a small explosive between where the door meets the wall. Hopping off, he motions the man to take the ladder away, and keeps hold of a fuse line. He places four more explosives in the same fashion around the vault, equally spaced. Braiding the fuse lines together walking towards the stairs, he removes his half-smoked cigar from his lips and touches it to the fuse.

The group of men waits in the stairwell until the ominous hissing of the burning fuse disappears into the explosives. A violent concussion startles the group, except for DiMarco. A creaking noise precedes the loud sound of a large metal object hitting the ground. The men rush into the vault with ecstatic delight stuffing handfuls of gold into burlap sacks until they swell and rush out of the pub.

The leader of the group walks into the vault and fills his bag, and walks back out to DiMarco. He looks down at the goblin, grins, and points into the vault and says, “There’s your share.” The hulking man smugly flings his ogre gun over his shoulder and walks upstairs.

DiMarco realizes his betrayal, but doesn’t panic. He walks into the vault and takes a share of gold he feels is enough for his efforts, and sneaks out of the tavern as the sheriff arrives with his posse to investigate. DiMarco looks on from around the corner of a nearby building, then disappears off into the shadows.

Months roll by, in a similar town, and in a similar pub, people enjoy their drinks. The door swings open and in walks four men with guns drawn, yelling for everyone to get to the floor. Walking in behind them a hulk of a man barely fits through the door frame. He carries a massive gun, and smokes a cigar. He looks around the quiet room, and smirks.

“Now everyone behave and things won’t need to get bloody, make sure you’re sniffin’ your assholes real good or my ogre gun might just go off.” The leader steps into the room with heavy boots and approaches the bar. He points at the barkeep, “You know what I need opened, now let’s get it done.”

The barkeep looks at him confused, “I don’t know what you mean, sir. Just sit and have a drink won’t you?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit; you know exactly what I’m talking about!” The boss points to a flag on the wall.

The barkeep looks very nervously around the room, as if looking for someone to help. He spots a small cloaked figure in the corner of the room smoking a cigar who seems to be fiddling with something under the table, but keeps panning his eyes around so not to arouse suspicion. He bends down to simulate putting away a glass he was cleaning.

The large man at the bar sniffs the air and seems to recognize a certain familiar smell. He clenches his fist and moves his trigger finger into position. He swings his massive weapon over his shoulder and aims it at the corner where the barkeep saw the small cloaked figure, but sees nothing there but a half-empty mug of ale.

The leader's men ready their weapons and move into the crowd. They hear something that resembles a couple of large marbles rolling across the wooden floor. A man's scream rings out and the bar room engulfs into a fireball knocking even the bandit leader to his back causing him to drop his weapon. The leader attempts to gain his composure and leans up.

Through the smoke, DiMarco appears and forces him down to his back with his boot, leans over him and grins. "You shouldn't have betrayed me, Grimjack." DiMarco takes his cigar and burns it into Grimjack's already burned face. DiMarco takes the leader's bag of gold from his belt, and shoots Grimjack's Ogre Gun to render it useless. "Don't cross me again."

Grimjack loses consciousness, and DiMarco walks out to find another adventurous group to travel with…

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