((OOC: I'll resume control of Vincent now. Combat over.))

The Indian falls flat on his face at the vampire's slash, rents torn clean through the fancy buckskin shirt he wears. He lies still.

Vincent looks down at the body and kicks it a little. "Sodding dirt-worshipers." He says, then turns to William. "And you! What fucking use are you? Weaving about like that...what will you do when we catch up with them, eh? Stagger over to Marina and bleed on her?"

"I was shot in the back and he just tried to split my head with a fucking tomahawk", William growls.

"It's not like I can just go to a fucking doctor to slap a bandage on."

He doesn't want to say it, but it weighs heavy on his tongue, so he finally admits it.

"I need blood."

Vincent stops, and looks at him. He frowns.

"Wait. You were shot? You were shot, and it's doin' all this to you? I know you're freshly dead but...a little flying lead shouldn't have done a damn thing. Nor the dirt-worshiper's axe."

He kneels over William and checks him over. He probes the wounds (not gently) and looks at the darkened blood oozing from the buckshot holes in back and the chop to his neck. Then, most odd of all, he puts his ear to William's chest. William feels The Ogre shift a little within him.

"Well I'll be Goddamned." He says. "You aren't a vampire at all! You're another fucking Harrowed!"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"What makes you think I give a fuck how you feel?" Vincent says. "Our relationship is defined solely on how useful you can be to me once we finally track that bitch down. Right now, you aren't impressing, and especially not now that I know what it is you really are. She didn't create you the same way she sired me...you're just a corpse that some demon thought would be fun to play with, and while it gave you fangs and bloodlust and will keep you alive pretty much forever you're just one step above the mewling kine."

He stands. "So you know what? From here on out, you're on your own. Have fun with that need for blood...I can smell a hell of a lot of it up the hill here. Maybe you can drink enough to get you moving again, but you sure as hell won't be beating me to Marina."

And with that, he turns and begins running up the hill, leaving William to his hunger.

For a second, William considers shooting Vincent. But to what purpose? He knew that the bullet wouldn't kill him and he saw Vincent tear through these savages like a wolf in a hen house.

He searches the three dead for a bowieknife and reloads his pistol.

Turn back now or go on? He wondered.

He looked down at his chest. "You're keeping me alive in there?"
Then he pulls out the cross from under his shirt.
"You're going to be awefully busy, then."

And then he follows after Vincent, slower though. Keeping an eye on any horses the indians might have left behind close by.

'Just' harrowed, hm? What the fuck does that mean, anyhow?

He knew that he was probably walking to his death. Again. But what had he to lose? He would spend eternity being tortured by the souls of the men he killed. What difference would a day or a year make when compared to eternity?

21:37, Today: William Pierce rolled 0,1 using d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 2,3. Notice, red chip.
21:37, Today: William Pierce rolled -1,1 using d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. Notice, +2 alertness, wounds, fatigue.

"Sounds like a challenge, boy." whispers a voice in the back of his mind. "Maybe I should remind ya of your place."

And then he hears the crack of leather, feels the sting of metal...

William stops, his jaw grinding with an enormous effort.

The enormous effort is just enough to keep him contained, but it's a very near thing.

((OOC: 11:56, Today: Secret Roll: The Stray rolled 2,3 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,3. Harrowed Dominion roll. That's a tie. No clear winner. You keep the Ogre down, but gain no dominion.

Oh, and make another notice roll for me, please.))

21:58, Today: William Pierce rolled 3,0 using d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,2. Notice, +2 alertness, wounds, fatigue.

William begins stumbling up the hill, following after Vincent as best he can.

((OOC: Well that's a fail. hee.

Your Pace is at 3 thanks to the wounds, so unless you Run (extra d6 to pace) for a couple turns, you'll be unable to catch up to him before he reaches the top of the hill. He's currently one round's worth of movement from being involved in the War Crimes thread. Are you going to run, or just walk? that will let me know how much time he has up there before I add you to that fight.))

OOC: Just walking. Not in a hurry. I was wondering if I should spend the Legend Chip on that Notice roll, but it seemed too grandiose a chip to spend on a Notice check. I might need it for a roll to see if I die or not.

Then again... I might be dying because I'm too greedy to part with the Legend chip. Would you allow spending it now?

((OOC: I'd allow it, but the notice roll was just to see if you spotted a clue about something. It's nothing life-threatening.

Speaking of chips, draw couple. One for taking control of Vincent and playing him so well, and one for trapping The Ogre back down while injured and vulnerable.))

Why, thank you, they are much appreciated!:
09:37, Today: William Pierce rolled 32,15 using d35,d35, rerolling max with rolls of 32,15. Chips.
One white, one blue.

((OOC: Hmm...what to do now? William blew his spot check, and yet it'll take him a couple rounds to get to the top of the hill, so no interactions...I know! Let's run an Interlude! This will be something that you remember or reminisce about as you head up the hill. Draw a card and come up with a tale for William to remember based on the topic. You'll be eligible for a free chip or an extra Adventure card...your choice when the interlude is completed.))

Interlude Table
• Clubs—Tragedy: Describe a tale of tragedy or misfortune from your hero’s past, featuring one of his Hindrances if possible. If the teller has a dark secret of some kind, hint strongly at it, drop clues, or otherwise give the rest of the group a glimpse into your hero’s dark side during your narrative.
• Spades—Victory: Tell the group about a great victory or personal triumph in your adventurer’s past. How did it affect him afterward? Was there a reward?
• Hearts—Love: Speak fondly of the character’s greatest love—lost, found, or waiting on him back home. What is her name? Where does she live? Why is the traveler not with her now?
• Diamonds—Desire: Tell a tale about something your hero wants (or already has). It might be a material possession, recognition, a political goal, or even a trip he wishes to take to some amazing destination.

20:09, Today: William Pierce drew the single card: QD using the Deadlands system. Interlude.
So.. what do I want? I thought that much was obvious. Let me think a little about it, I'll edit this post later.

((OOC: It's a chance to go into more detail, to get deeper in character. We can make it a short RP chat, if that would help.))

William walked slowly up the hill, doing his best to follow after Vincent. He was in no condition to run after him like crazy.

"Another fucking Harrowed." Vincent had made it sound like a verdict. William still had no real idea what that meant. Well, besides the obvious that he was dead, yet still able to walk up that damned hill. And there he would kill that fanged bitch, if it was the last thing he did in life. Or death. Or whatever the fuck his current state was supposed to be.

He stopped for a brief moment, as if to catch his breath. He wiped the blackish goo from his forehead, where the tomahawk had connected and looked at it in the moonlight.
Fucking savages.

He saw flickering lights now up on the hill and the sight took him back into that little chapel in Wyoming. That had, apparently, been a lifetime ago. Funny how people just said these sort of things, but now they truly applied.

Don't worry, I won't hurt you, sister.
Oh, I know you think you won't. But will your inner demons let you?

That had given him pause, he remembered. Sister Mary Clarice had been the first in many years that hadn't been scared to death by him showing up, pistol drawn, aiming at her chest. Everybody else either shit their pants or pretended not to while pulling a pistol on him, always hoping they'd just outdrew him.
She had been so... confident. No, accepting. Accepting of whatever would happen.

Inner demons. He'd wanted to protest, but then... something was driving him, ever since that fateful afternoon in that back alley, the knife bloody, the incredulous look on the other boy's face.

When the US marshals finally searched the chapel, very sheepishly and polite, she'd been very helpful to the men. Then, after they were gone, Mary Clarice had stood up from that bench and William had emerged. His shoulders and legs cramped, but otherwise fine. Which was more than you could say about poor foolish young Hank.

Why'd you help me?
Because I see that you're a lost soul, William Pierce. You are haunted by your inner demons, but you can release them and repent.

He was wondering what she would say to his current situation. "Inner demons" was putting it mildly.

Do you really want to rob and kill people?
They had talked for a long while. He'd been reluctant at first, but Sister Mary Clarice had a gift. She'd ask you a harmless enough question, like if you wanted more tea, then moved the topic to something more serious.
Whenever he stopped talking, she would gently prod him to continue. Or she'd just sit there and listen, waiting for the uncomfortable silence to become unbearable that you just had to talk to end it. Like throwing down on poor sod at high noon with the whole town watching.
In the streets, William Pierce always kept his cool, always outwaited his opponent. Made it legal.
In the chapel, he folded like a house of cards in a storm.

No. He didn't want to rob and kill people. It sorta just had happened. He wanted to see his sister and brother again. His mum, too. He wanted a life where he didn't have to worry if he sat with his back to his door. He wanted to settle down, someday, maybe. A house by a small pond, maybe. He loved looking at water, it always calmed his mind.

At the end he was babbling like an idiot. But Sister Mary Clarice would just hold him and listen. She didn't shove any of that bible crap down his throat and she never excused any of his many, many bad deeds. When he'd told her about Joseph Willard, her frown was hurting more than anything else he'd ever suffered before or since.

Do you regret it?

Oh yes. That he could say in all truthfulness.

You won't find peace here up North. You've hurt too many people, William, and they will come after you. You could go West, or South or up to Canada, but your sins will follow you.

When they finally parted, she had given him the necklace with the cross. He wished he'd had worn it when that fanged bitch had drank his blood.
She'd also said something to him.
I don't condone the things you did, William. But the Lord says 'Vengeance is mine'. It is not my place to judge. You may yet earn your place in heaven, but you will have to repent, a lot, to clear your slate.

Well, at least on that count he knew his was a lost cause. There were demons in hell waiting to rip him apart for all eternity.

William spit on the ground, a black gob of blood.
"Fuck 'em. They're not going anywhere."
No, he'd try to stay alive as long as he could. He was in no state to confront Marina, he had to be honest to himself about that. Vincent was probably tearing her apart right now, anyway.

Let's see what happens when I drink the blood of a Vampire.

He laughed, humorlessly, then walked on, more confident and determined in his stride now than before, checking his rifle while he walked.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:35, Tue 29 May 2012.

Four spirits watched William as he staggered his way up the hill.

"So what do you think of our charity project's progress up the slope of Purgatory?" The old man asked his fellows.

"So far, I am not impressed." The bespectacled clerk mutters. "His tally of good deeds to ill have not been shifted. What has he done, really? He protected a murderess, he let loose a monster just as dangerous as himself, got himself shot in a bar brawl, and now he's lurching toward certain death because he doesn't have the good sense to find a doctor to clean and bind his wounds."

"Not a one of us knew the girl's past." The homesteader counters. "God did not see fit to let us in on his divine plan. His deeds show loyalty, if nothing else. Perhaps his companions do not deserve such, but it is a virtue, nontheless."

"Hell, he went out of his way to keep the fancy man from harm." The outlaw says. "That speaks of a loyalty I wished he'd shown to me. Perhaps there's hope for him yet."

"If he survives this idiocy."

"True. Marching into certain danger while half-dead and hungry is beyond foolish. And if he dies without his slate cleaned a little, none of us can rest."

"Eternally tormenting the wicked is a pale reward for a life of service to the Lord. I would greatly prefer to enter Paradise."

"Shall we dissuade him?"

The four nod in agreement.

William, as he climbs the hill, notices four shadows standing in his path. They stand, silent as the grave, still as Christ on his cross.

Then, each of them begins to point back down the hill. Back towards Blackthorn.

William stops, disdain on his face. "What do you want? Is hunting vampires not good enough for you? What shall I do in that god-forsaken town? Go to some sawbones who'll see that I'm a walking, talking corpse and scare the hell out of him? So that the townsfolk will turn on me quicker than the chambers of my pistol will turn? Do you want me to kill everyone, just so that you're not alone?"

"And what could you do to the vampires, in your worthless, ragged state?"

"You're no used to us if you get put down."

"Would you throw away your chance at redemption on a hopeless cause?"

"If you fight now, you'd fall. And when you arose, you'd be so blinded by hunger you'd be as dangerous as Vincent."

"Or Jenny."

"Or Marina."

"You'd likely kill any innocent in your path to slake your thirst.. you'd put yourself farther from redemption than you are already."

"But you don't need human blood to heal."

"And there are stables in Blackthorn."

"And let her get away?" William protests, but he's apparently not ready to argue his point.
He spits another gob of blood down into the grass.
Used to be easier when my heart was still beating.

"Got you to talk, at least, not just quietly stand there and judge me." He grins, defiantly, then turns around, walking back to his horse.

Not trying to ride, I'll lead Jumper by the reigns.

The four ghosts don't reply. They simply watch as he leads his horse away...

((OOC: Which way now? Back to town?))

OOC: Back to town, yes.

((OOC: Then this thread is closed. Please resume posting on the Long Road To Hell thread.

Oh, and for your interlude, did you want to draw an extra Fate Chip or an extra Adventure Card? As far as I know, you haven't used any of your current cards yet.))