In Rojas' case, Cole looked at him as yet another man jawin'. So, as I've already written, he wasn't interested in overly reacting to him either. Besides, from Cole's point of view, he told Rojas what was on his mind. Rojas said his piece. Cole said his. After that, he was done. If Rojas wanted to carry those saddle bags a bit longer, as far as Cole was concerned, he was going to do it all by himself.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #43):

I agree completely, well said. Cole did a good job of turning the other cheek in various character (PC and NPC) interactions, I thought, including Rojas. My previous comment wasn't a criticism; it was an observation, I see irony in Cole's statement about concerning himself with a man's actions, rather than a man's words . . . and then landing in a contest of wills, about just such a matter, with another man. I wasn't labeling right or wrong, just observing the irony.

In general, I want to make sure that all of my comments in this postmortem are understood as just that. Observations, my perspective. Each player has his or her perspective, and the judge has his. Truth is a three-edged sword.

On another subject. . .

I can remember hearing an interview with one of the Doctors where he was asked by a fan “how did you feel when the cybermen attacked” or something like that and the actor playing the Doctor said “well I’m just an actor.”

But I think that's what I’d like to see: a look behind the curtain if you will, and hear your musing on the parts of creating the campaign world that the players weren’t privy to – that you enjoyed creating.

Travis makes a quizzical point here: Responding to Randy and not Art's behavior.

When Randy first met Art, Art refused, or ignored, the offered handshake.  NBD, even though it's hard to miss a man with that big of a hand extending it (Ch 5 msg 33).  After that, passed the evening and morning, aside from commenting dismissively about an I idea of Randy's, the first directed comments follow:
"Thanks, mate." Artemsus says to Randy for covering the livery charge and patting him on the shoulder. "Say bloke you’re a bloody shag the on rock, built like a brick dunny. Bet you put a hurtin’ on the tucker!"
There's not a damned case of Art addressing anyone else in such a way.  In addition to that, if Travis thought Randy of low intelligence, would not a word of recommendation not been in order?

Nevertheless, my point is how events transpired, Art and Randy's conflict was inevitable.  There's not a single case of Art's supporting one of Randy's ideas.  In fact, he often acted aloof or worse when Randy spoke.  Art was the only character who mocked or made fun of Randy -- that's a case of confrontational gaming or out-of-character responses.

JM has told me privately and publicly he feels I meta-gamed with Randy.  I continue to defend that was never the case.  Through private conversations with Travis and Deeds, Randy expressed sincere misgivings about Art.  There are other reviewable comments Randy made about the impression he held.  I know I'm harping on about what was obvious but not seen.  I ask JM and Travis to recall the other game we were involved with run by Silas' alter-ego.
***
But on the topic of missing the obvious, it seems a common practice by all players (myself included, but I'll never admit it) to skim posts and not read fully.  I can note on a number of occasions where the same thing was said by multiple characters.  The inverse was true, some read something that was never posted.  This was at epidemic levels from time to time.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #46):

Nice post.

1. One of the problems was Art was an older character who was rejoining and therefore got more kid gloves than Randy.  That's my fault.  I freely admit to it.  I wanted Art to play and not go on hiatus as he had before.

2. I made the error of metagaming assuming things about Randy based on Chance.  I assumed the roleplayer enjoyed more extremes in his characters.  I projected this assumption on Randy.  He's big and strong ---no he's super big and strong ass an ox.  He's dumb -- No he's barely able to function without the major.

3. I made flat out errors on Randy based on incorrect assumptions from his first few dozen posts.  I reread them twice and have tried to see what sent me up the wrong tree.  Offering to fight for $5 probably sent me down the wrong path.

I will say this, calling Art Archie was a big part of how Travis remembers/contectualized Randy's interactions.  Either randy purposefully called Art the wrong name or he wasn't capable of understanding the difference.  Though this was at the end and I admit I was wrong about earlier interactions, I gave Randy the benefit of the doubt and assumed he wasn't smart enough to figure it out.

Interesting thing about names and Randy.  Randy could recall names, like McCoy, because he was introduced to the person's name by Major.  Artemus, with his accent, made Randy misunderstand his name at first.  Then it stuck.

Art, what did you think about that?  ("And remember, this is for posterity so be honest. How do you feel?")

Randy never used Ayasha's name, not even at the very end.  She was always 'girl' or 'that girl' or even 'Injun girl'.

I made Randy's vernacular as I imagined a boy raised in saloons and the sort.  He always spoke with the right words, but often times, the wrong tense of verb.  'You all' to him was 'you'ns'.  I had a friend who used it that way and I always thought it most interesting in the best possible way.

Travis, you made a great point with regard to Randy and Major.  Yes, Randy functioned better with the trail-boss in the saddle, and certainly accepted him as a father-figure.  Gray was the only one to see Randy afraid.

Art cracked me up when he was spewing on about Randy's origins.  Randy's mother was, in fact, a soiled-dove -- in and out of saloons, brothels and cat-houses.  She was fourteen when she got pregnant by one of the nameless visitors.  I can only imagine Randy's birth rendered her infertile.  I thought of having Randy turn to Art and say, "yup, that's right."

I think everyone is guilty of meta-gaming, the Judge included. I haven't singled you out, I've said this to others as well. It is hard to avoid. I didn't imply, publicly or privately, that Randy, the player, intentionally let meta-data influence his RP. I think it comes out despite our best efforts to control it. I think that both Art and Randy were influenced by their RL thoughts/feelings. Travis has indicated his understanding of his own meta-game influence and I think it's fair to say that everyone fell prey to that pitfall at one time or another (again, myself included). That's all I'm saying, Randy, it isn't an attack on you personally. You don't need to defend yourself, at least from my perspective. I see it the way I see it.


This identifies the most notable frustration suffered by the Judge. I had a mind to elaborate, but it's just beating a dead drum, to use my favorite mixed-metaphor that one of Dirk's teachers used to utter. So, 'nuff said.

Both Randy and Artemus had nicknames for each other.

Randy called Art 'Archie'.
Art called Randy 'Squire' or 'squire-boy'.

Both were "in character" but both signal to me the influence of meta-data--the irresistible urge to get a little jab in . . .

Again, things like this are why I say it was a two-way street.

In reply to Artemus Carson (msg #45):

Not sure if Art was directing this to me, specifically, or asking everyone in general. But I find the question intriguing, so here is my monologue.

For me, as a Judge, the fun is to create a compelling experience that the heroes can live in. I appreciated JEB's comment when I announced that I would be putting the game on hiatus, because he specifically said that the game was compelling and enjoyable.

In a Wild West game, there is the additional challenge of fitting a fictional story into a historical setting. I strive for historical accuracy, but not at the expense of the story. I take plenty of liberties, but there are some things that I wanted to keep accurate or else I feel I haven't lived up to that challenge (some of the things you objected to, like the weapons ordinances in Wichita and Abilene). I want stories that fit into a niche in the history--plausible things that might could have happened but which never made into the encyclopedia. Things happening at the same time as historical milestones, in synch with them, but separate. Not an alternate history, but a "companion" history. For the Old West, there are lots of gaps to be filled.

I saw a documentary about Joseph McCoy and the subject of Texas Fever came up. I followed up with some research about it and thought, now there's an interesting hook. People were affected by that. The history books tell us that there was cattle affliction and where it happened. There are even photos of dead beeves on the plains. But history doesn't always tell us the name of the rancher--or his children--who lost a whole herd when the longhorns came through. Or how they reacted to the longhorns coming through. There were many cattle drives from 1867 - 1885. Easy to blend in my story.

So I can create a drive, with fictional leaders, who connect with important historical figures (Hickok, McCoy). I can have the success of the drive hinge on the Texas Fever. I don't have to have a "Heavy" or a "Big Bad." I can create a challenge purely built from the human condition, as well as natural causes, and see what the heroes do. As we agreed upon a "gray" orientation, that made it more open to interpretation. No "Big Boss" to kill, no enemy presenting a clear and present danger. Just life, with its built-in challenges and the occasional life-changing events that make for a memorable story. Men, with competing interests and no clear-cut superiority of morality.

Now, I know some gamers want a bunch of combat and the "Big Bad" to vanquish. I've never been much of a hack and slash RPGer. To me, the RP is the most fun. In this RPoL environment, a good deal of RP needs to happen. That doesn't mean that were won't be action, including combat. I find that the less common the incident of battle is, the more tense and blood-pumping it ends up being when it does happen. It's the spaces in between that let the adrenaline dump have maximum effect when the hammer drops.

In this adventure, the big battle was at the Red River, with a few small skirmishes before and after. But the big battle wasn't the resolution of the adventure. It was merely a stepping stone on the trail. It seems to the judge that the heroes were expecting another big battle at the end of the adventure. Maybe that's an example of meta-gaming by everyone--assuming the adventure has to end by bagging the "big bad." I set up an incident where battle could have been the result, but wasn't necessarily the result. I resolved before the first encounter with Fielder that neither he nor his men would fire first. That put the burden on the players. No present threat to react to, only talk, innuendo, uncertainty. There ended up being a final skirmish. Interestingly, the heroes latched on to a sketchy idea that shooting beeves was the same as shooting men. I perceive in that "rationalization" a deep-seated need by the players to justify their role in the battle. Fascinating, that was.

At least one of the players has read and GMed a D&D adventure I wrote some (grumble) years ago. It was a "no-win" situation. Doubtful that one could market such a module; I wrote it for my own practice and enjoyment but was glad when the friend took it and used it with a different (unknown to me) gaming group. The result, to me, was predictable. The setting and NPCs were so adversarial to the PCs that winning was unlikely, but the adventure also had an escape hatch. The trick was whether the PCs would understand the escape hatch, or fight on to the TPK in the face of impending annihilation. The "No Buffalo Outfit" wasn't a no-win situation. It was designed for the possibility of a "win-win" situation. I mention the other adventure because like the NBO, it didn't really have a "kill the big bad and go home with loot" objective--that module's objective was to realize that walking away was the best alternative.

Well, that's enough ramblings for the moment.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:51, Wed 25 May 2011.

Hey all! I hope everyone is doing well! I have to say I really enjoyed this game from beginning to end. I thought everyone did a great job with their posts. The Judge was great keeping things moving & keeping the setting intact. I have said it before but I have to say it again. It was special to me because I really came to know & like all of you. This started out as a private game & I did not know you all back then. Yet, I had the idea for Meri & just took a chance by sending the Judge a PM. He said he would have to ask all of you if I could join.

So I would like to say thanks for taking a chance on me too. You all have been great & I only hope we can stay in touch as I will miss this game & all of you.

Thanks Judge! You put a lot of work into this & it showed. I always enjoyed your posts & plots. Like I said, you made me believe I was right there in the old west. Running a game is a lot of work but your work was always well done.

Now to answer a certain question...



Jeb was, as Meri would say, spot on. Deeds wore the frock coat & collar of a priest but was not an ordained priest. As a younger man he was an outlaw who was wounded. A kindly Mexican priest healed him up. Deeds stayed with him for a while. The priest taught him Latin, how to read/ write, & how to read the Bible. Deeds was converted by his kindness. The priest was later killed by a local rancher's son while drunk. The local law let him off because of his father's status & money.

Deeds, while reading the old testament, found that God's way & man's way of justice coincided in some ways. Donning the frock coat & carrying the priest's bible, Deeds became a champion of justice, but justice the way he saw it. He did not like bullys or those who abused their power. Deeds did not mind killing when he had to. Just as a side note, Deeds was made up as long distance killer... ala Tom Horn. The people he marked for death would receive it from a bullet they never saw. Deeds remembered that you must confess your sins. By shooting them thusly, Deeds thought they had no chance at redemption & went straight to hell. Deeds killed but always asked for forgiveness. Even priests are human, priests that-are-not priests really are.

As for Meri & his death. Its was as the Judge said. He PMed me & said I was close to death. That if I rejoined the battle with Yumma, I would most likely die in the process. Yet, with Travis down & those that could help so far away... Meri could not turn his back on those he considered friends. So I had him ride out & buy some time. I loved Meri as a character. Yet, if Meri had not ridden back out... well he just would not have been Meri to me anymore.

Oh, I loved my short stint as Yellow too. If this game ever restarts & Travis goes after Yuma... I would like to have Yellow keep his promise & have Yellow ride with him. Thanks again for everything but most of all, for the friendship! Many Blessings to all! Cheers Meri/Deeds/ Yellow a.k.a Demerillow
This message was last edited by the player at 22:44, Wed 25 May 2011.

In reply to Meriwether Lewis Smythe (msg #52):

Freaky, I just rMailed you.

Death to Yuma!  Backshooting, parley breaking, lucky critical hitting, bastard.

In this comment, “you” & “I” refer to the players. The characters are referred to by name.

I’m really reluctant to engage in any he-said-she-said or who-struck-John-first type of discussions because they seem to descend into something that feels like an argument.

One major way in which I meta-gamed was that I kept my responses to Randy, and to Chance at the end of the prior adventure to a minimum because I, the player felt that discourse and interaction always took a snarky turn, and I, the player didn’t particularly enjoy it and I thought it tended to drag the game down.

I tried to treat Randy as the fresh new character that he was. But since I was asked, I’ll point out a couple of things and how I perceived them (perhaps differently than intended).



Not that Randy would understand Aussie slang without asking, but that was how I was attempting to play Art as being friendly and trying to fit in but not always succeeding. It translates as “Say man, you’re obviously big and well built. I bet you can eat a lot.” But that’s something I’d expect you to know or figure out and definitely not by which you’d be insulted

You mention Art refused Randy’s hand shake in Ch 5, Msg 33. Here it is, but
please note, I see that you cannot quote a message in a closed chapter so I’m going to piece it together but will loose some formatting.



So as I read this, Randy’s very first comment to Art is to call him a “bad egg.” He then extends his had to the padre. Randy then turns to Art, no mention is made of extending a hand to him, but Randy does tell him “…beatingest man about fisticuffs you ever seen.”

My reading of that is hostility and exclusion from the first moment they met.

Referring to Art’s comment to Randy detailed above you also mention “There’s not a damned case of Art addressing anyone else in such a way.” I’ll refer you to Chap 5, Msg 30 where Art addresses all of his old friends:



As for how I felt about the name “Archie” – So more meta gaming here. It was obvious Randy’s player spent “build points” on strength and constitution, so it seemed equally obvious that the points had to come from somewhere. I didn’t perceive him a uncharismatic or undexterous, so I concluded it came from INT and WIS.

And so I thought calling Art “Archie” was a sign of ignorance. Here is the genesis of “Archie” and though it was in a private comment, I don’t think it betrays any secrets to post it here. This was one night on the trail waiting a mile out in the grass. At the appointed hour Art was to light a lantern to guide the rest of the group into the campsite. Art took the idea to ride off playing a “joke” on the rest of the party as another sign of low intelligence or low wisdom or both.



Art then replies and likens Travis to an outhouse rat in another example of Art referring to others in Aussie slang



(Note the homage to Meri)

As for terms like ‘you’ns’ and such, I just took that a good ol’ southern or country patterns of speech and passed no judgment on that. Thought I did think the “I is Randy” pattern did sound ignorant. As opposed to “Name’s Randy” or “I’s Randy” I found the “I is. . .” to be awkward and unwieldy.


I did pickup on Randy seeing, as you say, the Major and to a lesser degree Cole as father-figures. And so when Randy was tending to them I did see him as their squire. Calling him the squire was not an attempt to insult, though squire-boy usually was an attempt to show disrespect.

I thought the “fight” was Randy’s low point in the game and showed a lot of meta gaming. To me it was obvious from JM’s comments that Art was fatigued, and I know you know the game well enough to know that means Art was –2 on strength and –2 on dexterity. So I saw Randy’s attack on a weakened, seated-with-his-back-to-the-wall Art as cowardly, bullying and unprovoked, and that’s why Art fought back with is knife.

Art is a survivalist and would never give in during a fight like that. So as soon as he was conscious he had to verbally fly the star spangled banner as a sign of resistance to tyranny.

Comments about another’s mother are a rather typical, (if not universal across distance and time) sign of provocation, and so in character. That Randy chose to not react to that, but did to the earlier assertion that Art would speak if he wished, was I thought, another sign of meta gaming.

The “butt cheek monologue” we’ll call it, was supposed to be humorous and absurd and evoke an image of Jim Carey in “Ace Ventura.” I think Jim pulled it off better.
--------
I think your actually a good gamer, and can play a character thoughtfully and with great detail and flavor, but there seems to be a personal element that comes into play that detracts from the whole at times.

Anyway. . . I’m going to keep at the gaming, and I hope you do too and I hope we both improve in our style and manner of play – for years to come. I’m looking forward to it.

Hmmm.

I have no desire to squelch any civil discussion. So far, in my view, all of our commentary has been civil (thanks to everyone). Nevertheless, in my opinion, the "Randy vs. Art" topic is played out. If either of you want to continue, go ahead, but it seems to me that both players have expressed their perspective effectively and further debate would amount to nothing more than kicking up a row.

As the judge, I saw both sides of this. I said earlier, publicly and privately, thought I thought both players let meta-game influences intrude on their gameplay. I also said that I thought all of us are guilty of that, to some degree. I expressed my opinion that this "rivalry" was a two-way street. I think the text posted in this forum by both players backs up my observations.

That's a long way of saying "Injun that kicked my ass."

EDIT: typo
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:45, Thu 26 May 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #51):

I was directing it to you, and that is what I was looking for, but I'd invite everyone share their own little parts of their back story they found interesting. I'll work on mine.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #56):

<rips off rear view mirror and tosses from window of car> Onward through the fog. . .

In reply to Artemus Carson (msg #58):

If two others vote to share back stories, mine's ready to go.  I had lots of fun with it and it seems a shame to leave it unread by the group.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #60):

Travis led a simple life until the war came. Just 16 and apprenticing in a trade in
mechanical fabrication and repair. Travis volunteered with the 6th Michigan
Infantry/Heavy Artillery at the onset of the war.  Though mostly stationed on
the Mississippi, Travis was frequently selected for a courier duty and
subsequently found himself in many of the pivotal battles of the Civil War.
Unable to return to the normality of Ann Arbor, Travis is heading west where
he has heard a quick wit and faster gun can are valuable to those who would
carve a civilization from the wilderness.

<insert When Johnny comes marching home>

The Butterfield Overland Stage Route was discontinued because of the war and
 in the Southwest mail was transported on horseback.  During that time Fort
Bowie was built.  Travis and Meri departed the fellowship and through the fall
of 1867 helped reconnect Arizona to the rest of the country while supporting
the efforts of Ft Bowie.

In 1867 through early 1869 Travis met up with Silas and operated out of
San Francisco.  They spent time as private law men hired by neighborhoods to
mete justice.  They also spent time working with the railroad industry and
the prospecting community.

When speaking of his time with Meri and Silas, there's an inordinate amount
of laughter and story telling.  Typical banter might include "Then Meri said,
Old Chap, that wasn't a horse that was the minister's wife,"  or "I knew with
Ol' Hank we'd survive the gunfight, but how we got through the hangover the
next morning I'll never know."

In 1869-1870 Travis headed East and found himself in the Indian Wars.  From
the Battle of Summit Springs with fellow scout William "Buffalo Bill" Cody to
the Marias Massacre.  Travis saw a lot.  Probably too much.  He speaks openly
and honestly about his time. You can tell this was a life changing experience.
His deep cynicism further reinforced.


After that one can surmise that Travis drifted before arriving at the trail
head with a fine horse and a fancy six shooter.  What little reputation
precedes him indicates Travis was paid for his skills but the black hats
would have paid him much better.

Note: My great great great grandfather Sgt Plummer served with the 6th Regiment Michigan
Infantry/Heavy Artillery.  So that's where I had Travis come from.

This is Ayasha's background:


Growing up as the daughter of a well known warrior is not the easiest thing in the world. Ayasha is the daughter of Woqini, whom the white men know as Roman Nose. He was the greatest Crooked Lance that ever lived, and he probably led warriors into battle more than any other war chief.

He died three years ago at a little sand bar in the Arikaree in Colorado, fighting white scouts in a battle that should become known as the battle of beecher island. Ayasha was there that fatefull day, when they brought her father back from the charge, a bullet wound in his stomach. She and the other women tried everything to help him, but still he died in her arms late that afternoon.

Ayasha was only 15, but still it took two men to stop her from charging the palefaces alone, trying to avenge her father. The story of the grief-stricken, beautiful daughter of Woqini and her bravery is still being told at campfires today.

Ayasha made a point of not being available for marriage, even though there were many suitors. Her camp was almost every day hosting some visitor who brought the most beautiful horses, but he would get turned away eventually. Instead, Ayasha learned the art of healing from the shaman, and she developed her fighting skills. She was not the great warrior her father was, but she didn't lack enthusiasm. In her eyes all white men were devils, and she would do her part, as little as it was, to fight them.


The NBO played a big part in changing her views on the white men, although not changing them completely, especially with what happened before she was rescued by the NBO.

I'm wondering: Did anyone ever look up the name Woqini? Ayasha mentioned it at least twice.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #62):

I had not, but I will.

Art's life story. This is a bit rough and from a few different sources:

Art Carson
Born: Lexington, Virginia on February 29, 1832
Remembers living in isolated area w/ his parents. Learned to hunt small game with his father (bow, rifle, and traps) and began to ride horses. Men came and took (more like escorted) his father away one day. His father seemed to feel he had to go. His mother wrote to her father and after his reply took Art on what seemed like a very long adventure to a place where the water was crystal clear blue and everybody spoke differently.

<father background> Older brother of Kit Carson. On Kit’s advice, father became involved in securing bolts of silk from the Far East. Agents of the US government enlisted him for other “diplomatic” endeavors during his travels. Ultimately he turned his back on this and moved back to the frontier where he settled w/ his wife and began to raise a family.

<Mother background> mother was a teacher, and student of world religion and language.

c. 1837
Maternal grandfather was some sort of wealthy eccentric English scientist, came and met mother (in Cuba) and sailed east to and around Africa making several stops along the way. Grandfather seemed to know people everywhere he went, and was able to converse in their language. (Continued hunting and learned to fish)

<Grandfather background> talked of treasure hidden all around the world and of some  grand estate w/ laboratories, libraries, and collections of all sorts from around the world  he had a large and fancy ship (like a commodore’s ship with scientific equipment, books and fine china.) At one point there was hushed talk Art overheard of a ‘rescue’ of his father and of some sort of mission grandfather was on.

c.1838
They visited Madagascar for a few months, then some remote Indian Ocean islands and through the straight NW of Djakarta and north to Siam. Art met Rama III. They spent about year there, (Continued hunting, fishing, horseback riding and learned to ride an elephant.) when something seemed to go wrong (start of the Opium War) and they had to flee suddenly and became separated from the grandfather.

c.1839
Their escape found them on a different, smaller boat sailing through Indonesia, headed for Melville Island, Australia. They became shipwrecked in the Bonaparte Gulf and went ashore with just his mother. There they passed among several aboriginal tribes and came to settle w/ one on a plateau adjacent to a great sandy area. He was amazed that even in this very remote land, his mother seemed to know the tribal leaders and speak some of the language.

Aboriginal life: learned to live off the land, to need very little. Learned of “natural” magic from the shaman. Learned of the Dreamtime and ancient histories. Was told his grandfather was a shadow from the Dreamtime and that he was know much farther and wider then Art could imagine. (Continued hunting, some fishing) Walkabout: Discussing walkabout the shaman told Art was already on walkabout and to complete it he needed to return to where he was from. Then he could decide where he wanted to be, and adventure there.

c. 1851
Having been sent out to continue his walkabout, Art ventured across Australia to the southeast and after some adventures, found him in Victoria <lot of riding here > and employed along side a new friend, by name of Red Kelly. Red spoke of a land across the ocean where gold nuggets the size of man’s fist, or even bigger could be found just laying on the ground. Art loved the stories of California, even though it all seemed implausible. Red didn’t seem to have any intention of going, but Art was on walkabout, so after season or two he thought he’d see for himself. He got working passage on series of ships (some pretty disreputable, barely more than pirate ships - others not so) and adventured through Van Dieman’s Land (Tasmania), New Zealand, Hawaii and ultimately California.

c. 1855
Came to CA, work as a range hand, staked out a gold claim, had the claim jumped and was driven off (he escaped when they tried to murder him) and they left him for dead when he headed into the dessert. The jumper had some connections to the Union Army.

c.1861
Art then thought he’d head east to try to find the old homestead where he lived with his parents, or perhaps, eventually his father’s old estate in Virginia.

c.1862-63
Before making it very far he became conscripted in the Confederate Army, as a Lieutenant, it immediately be came obvious to his superiors that he was an excellent Scout. Combined with his skills w/ pistol and rifle, and skillful horsemanship, he was encouraged to take on dangerous “special” assignments.

c. June 1865.
Met the gang. <Insert When Johnny comes marching home>

After that adventure ended Art want to make a circuit through some tough country and touch base in Carson City and maybe see his uncle. After Art left the group he wandered through Death Valley, visited Carson City and having heard of the trouble in Donner years before decides to go through there as well. He makes it SF, telegrams w/ Owen and decides to head back that way. That much takes about a year. It's then that he meets the women.

"Belle" runs the cathouse, which is not much more than shelter for women that have run out of options. She's really horrible at picking boom town locations. They garden and look after each other and eek by on cowpokes coming through.

Art is just passing through but likes the ladies and enjoys working around the ranch and  decides to stay. He watches over the women, does odd jobs and chores and enjoys their company.


It there that Art meets "Lilly" a petite but tough blond from an Aussie mum and an American dad. Both died in California and Lilly was hoping to make it New York City, but didn't make it that far.

Art and Lilly start to build a life together and live in the same area for a while and talk of marriage.

=-=-= This part is from the beginning of chapter 5.
Artemus walks with JEB and Deeds to find his old friends, telling them this story:

"Well, I met a bonny lass, Lilly, and we were together almost two years," Artemus pauses and his new and old friend think they hear an almost inaudible sigh - he continues "life was grand, we were making plans for our future. . ."

A moment of silence passes "And one beautiful day - not a cloud in the sky - I was headed up to the general store to help carry home some milled corn she was buying. . ."

Another moment passes "she was done her shopping and was standing out front and smiled and waved to me. I bent down and picked a few daisies for her, and then I heard some men yell something like 'you better not follow us' and a shot rang out. When I looked back to Lilly, she'd dropped the sack and had her hand on her heart. I ran towards her and as her hand fell away I could see she was bleeding real bad. She fell and reached out to me. . . but by the time I got to her she had died. Just like that, she was gone."

Artemus clears his throat. "A gang of men had robbed a saloon where they were giving out payroll. And they fired a warning shot that just happened to hit Lilly."

"I think they only got about $60."


Nathaniel Deeds typed:
As they walked onward, the priest listened to Art's story. Under his breath he muttered "Deus misereatur"

He then looked to the ex-prisoner "Were they ever captured... brought to justice? These outlaws... do you still seek them?"


"I hunted them down as the fled." Artemus looks to his new companion, "Father, you may need to pray for my soul.

I killed them one at a time, as slowly and painfully as I could. I even wished I could follow them to hell so I could rip out their eyes in the after-life. . .

But it brought me no peace. None of that will bring Lilly back."

=-=-= END: part from the beginning of chapter 5.

So Art is feeling alone and pissed off at the world and is brooding, but not disheveled and scruffy.

Still he goes on a months long wild tear and ultimately gets arrested for hitting a policeman, and in jail is where JEB finds him.

<Insert NBO adventure here.>

BIOGRAPHY
He knew it was wrong; he knew it was right.
***
Fair Mary was young when he was born – barely 14.  She gave birth to Randy in
the drunk room at the whore house in Gatlinburg.  The story goes that she was
back upstairs that night.  Those days, Mary commanded more because she was young
and nursing.  She took what she could when she could.
***
Randy hopped off the wagon and put his shirt over the sideboard.
***
After a couple of years, Mary moved on to towns opening up to the west.  She
rarely spent more than a winter in one place before she moved in the spring.
All the ladies in the brothels loved Randy.  He clowned around a lot, but
worked hard cleaning up every morning.
***
He saw the man lifting the barrel off the buckboard.  He approached quietly.
***
There never was a real home.  Randy usually slept in the backroom or under the
stairs out back.  He had more than enough fingers to count the times he slept
on a real bed.
***
Randy's boots sank in the mud under his heavy frame.  “So, you like to hit
women, huh?”
***
During the days, Randy and the other bastards would play and tussle in between
working around the brothel.  Every year was a new set of playmates.  It was
like that for all of them.
***
The man heard Randy's voice and chuckled before he turned around.  “Well,
the son of a whore wants to be a man.  Alright, you got it.”
***
Mary started to slow down after a while.  She grew weary of moving around so
much.  Mary and Randy finally stopped in Saratoga in the Nebraska Territory.
Mary grew weaker as time went on, but Randy didn't know why.
***
As the older man turned around, he swung the back of his hand at Randy's
head.  The bastard saw it coming and easily ducked.  Randy swept his leg under
the man and tripped him.
***
Randy thought it best they move to Texas.  His mother didn't agree, but was too
weak to debate the idea.  It was easy to get some women and their children to
pull together and make a cat wagon bound for Galveston.  The brothel owner said
he'd take care of the wagons and horses and would lead them south.
***
Randy didn't know where his first punch landed; he just felt something snap.
***
Outside the cat wagon, Randy would play fight with the other kids for coins off
the men waiting their turns.  One night a big ruckus started after all the men
had left.  Apparently Mary couldn't keep up with the other women.  The man said
she was costing him money by taking up space.  Randy couldn't recognize her
swollen face after the man beat her.
***
There were other punches that landed.  All Randy felt was the warm rush of
blood on his hands.
***
Only a few weeks later, Mary finally succumbed to her illness.  The other women
said it was syphilis, but Randy figured she was tired of getting knocked around.
***
Randy stood up; his hand dripping blood.  The man's head was pushed so far
into the mud that the pool of blood was almost over his face.

Is he dead or alive?

TIME-LINE
1847 Winter - Randy was born to Fair Mary – a 14 year-old prostitute.  He was
     born in the drunk room in the back of the brothel in Gatlinburg, TN.
1851-62 – 4–15 - He clowned around a lot, but worked hard cleaning up at the
     brothels and saloons every morning.
1863 – 16 - Mary and Randy finally stopped in Saratoga in the Nebraska Territory.
     Mary grew weaker as time went on, but Randy didn't know why.
1865 – 18 - Randy thought it best they move to Texas.  His mother didn't agree,
     but was too weak to debate the idea.  It was easy to get some women and
     their children to pull together and make a cat wagon bound for Galveston.
     The brothel owner said he'd take care of the wagons and horses and would
     lead them south.
1866 Spring – 19 - Randy's mother died.  It happened.
1867 – 20 – Randy fought in some staged fights for part of the take.  He proved
     well suited and did a fine job of acting as if he were really beaten by a
     smaller man.
1868 – 21 – Randy finally got to fight a real fight.  He positively pulverized
     his opponent.  He fought in a 'come as you are' fight throughout a night;
     he won his fights, but fell short of the title.
1869 – 22 - Randy served with Major Gray, the trail boss for the No Buffalo
     Outfit.  Major Gray is a hard, no nonsense man, but he also has a
     reputation for fairness.  Randy did well his first drive.
1870 Summer – 23 - Cole Trayne and Randy Oldman met as hands on a cattle drive
     with the No Buffalo outfit.  They drove from San Antonio to Abilene.  Cole
     and Randy drove the remuda back to San Antonio through the autumn.
1871 Summer – 24 - Third ride with the No Buffalo Outfit.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #62):

Interesting. I had not heard of him before. Though the type of headdress mentioned is familier.

"Roman Nose (Woqini)
description:
He was a fierce warrior who refrained from attacking railroad workers and passing wagon trains until after the Sand Creec Massacre of 1864. But in 1866, Roman Nose bitterly opposed the construction of a Union Pacific railway through his people's hunting grounds. Roman Nose was a chief of the Pointed Lance Men Society, a leading Southern Cheyenne Dog Soldier Society. Roman Nose was said to be invincible in battle - a quality rumored to be guaranteed if he wore a special headdress of fourty red and black eagle feathers. The headdress was so long that it almost reached the ground even when Roman Nose was mounted on his favorite horse. The donning of his headdress was accompanied by many rituals and taboos, one being that Roman Nose must never eat anything with an iron eating utensil, such as a knife or fork. If this taboo was broken, a lengthy purification ceremony was required to restore the war bonnet's medicine. He proved the story time and again by loping at a slow pace in front of the enemy on his horse."

and

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_Nose

Roman Nose has long been one of my favorite indian characters. When Ayasha suggested she could be the his daughter, I didn't even hesitate. An interesting confluence of interests.