Thunder Walker drifted into darkness as the world slipped away from him. Even his pleasant memory fades, until all was silence and dark.

For a time, there was only smothering nothing. A bleak eternity of dark and empty had claimed him.

But then gradually, sensation returned. Pins and needles are running through his limbs, his face is pressed in dirt. The smell of smoke lingers about his nose. There's a redness to the sky, and his head throbs and aches.

some mood music
This message was last updated by the GM at 01:06, Sat 07 Sept 2013.

Thunder Walker pressed his face out of the dirt, feeling for a moment that he had dreamed what had happened on Bear Butte - until the pain returned to him. His body ached from head to toe, but it was a dull ache - almost a memory - and his head was filled with pain, both pain that was real and pain that was from being haunted by memories. Dream or no, he lifted his face up and put his nose to the wind to test the smell of the smoke. What was it? Where was he?

---

OOC:
 Notice: 3
- I think this is how I'm supposed to respond, to feel out the Nightmare. Let me know if something different is desired/required.
- I just noticed that I've not got any chips, as I gave them all to Eagles. Should I re-roll for them, or can I take some back from him?

13:47, Today: Thunder Walker rolled 3,1 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,1.

((OOC: You won't need chips for this, as you won't need to roll anything. The nightmare will be driven solely by your choices, actions, and responses to the situations you find yourself in. The tests will be choice-driven in nature, and you won't get to know quite how you're doing until the tale is finished. Basically, we're in free-form mode.

I'll be posting more tonight.))

some mood music

The sky has a hellish glow, red from smoke and fire. Thunder Walker finds himself alone in a town square filled with corpses, most of them white folk from what he can tell. He can hear distant screams, gunfire, and the occasional dull thud of an explosion.

The square is a bloody wreck. Stalls are overturned and smashed, several buildings are on fire, and there is blood everywhere--pooling from the bodies, smeared on walls, and even dripping from the banner overlooking an impromptu stage. The torn, bloody banner reads "BEHOLD THE WAGES OF SIN!"

And just like that, Thunder Walker knows where he is. Gomorra. The Festival of Sin, when the demented preacher Elijah and his grotesquely deformed "flock" staged their "revival," and everything went to Hell. The night of the riots that tipped the scales, pushed the fear that had long simmered in the town to the breaking point. The night the Whateley clan put their ultimate plan into motion. The night that Joseph Eyes-Like-Rain led the Sioux Union to town after months of waiting, to end the threat.

This is the night of Knicknevin's rise.

That night, Thunder Walker had been cracked over the head during the riot, and hadn't woken until the violence and carnage had already passed, though he'd heard what had transpired from the survivors. It looked like maybe--just maybe--he had a second chance to turn the scales.

The smell on the wind was of fire and blood. Fire and blood and death and smoke. For a moment he held himself steady, listening to the sounds of the gunfire and the screams and the explosions that punctuated the day, almost not believing where he was, not able to comprehend what was happening around him. This was something that couldn't be real, that couldn't again be happening, but it was, and there was only one way that he could react to it: he could fight.

Finding a tomahawk in his hand, he slunk low against the ground, moving at a crouch, seeking shelter against a nearby building and keeping his eyes open for what was around. In his years as a Lakota scout, he had become accustomed to scouting in open country, but there had also been raids on towns. The white man had a great love for buildings, and structures so there was always something to use for cover and shelter, always something in which to hide. Pressing himself against a building, he moved quietly as he knew in a way that he did not think would draw attention and looked to see what he might find. Maybe there was still a war party about that he could join, that he could scout for. Until then, he scouted for himself and for whoever he could save.

some mood music

The streets are thick with the dead. Thunder Walker spies Ferret's Eye and Billy Iron Horse among the corpses, shot full of holes near the First Bank of Gomorra, where the rioting seemed to be the worst.

Even keeping from shadow to shadow, Thunder Walker has the sense that he's being watched. Something else is in the shadows with him. Something lurking. Waiting. Hunting.

Two figures wander through the town square, nonchalant as if they were schoolboys on holiday.

One is a dandy, clean-shaven and neatly dressed in a well-pressed suit, a bowler derby atop his long red hair. He shuffles a deck of playing cards as he walks, inspecting the corpses through ruby-tinted glasses. Occasionally, his clothing ripples, as if something beneath them were pushing out.

The other is dark-haired, and has blue spectacles, a trim mustache, and a stovepipe hat, but otherwise looks near enough to the red-haired dandy that they could be brothers. He carries a cane instead of a pack of cards. There's something wrong with his shadow. It doesn't quite follow along with his movements, and at times seems to move of it's own volition. Sometimes it doesn't even look human.

"Well, Roger." The red-head says. "Looks like the Flock have thrown quite the party."

"I should say so, Nicodemus." The dark-haired one replies. "It seems everything is falling into place quite nicely." He scowls as he stumbles over Billy Iron Horses' body. He kicks it sullenly. "If only it weren't for all these bloody Indians about. Who do they think they are, getting in our way?"

"Oh, they won't be a problem long." Nicodemus replies. "They've made the mistake of moving too soon. Once they're wiped out, the plan can proceed with no more interruptions." And then he looks right over where Thunder Walker is hiding, and smiles. "Yes, there will be nothing to stop us at all."

Roger bends down and rests a hand on Billy Iron Horses' chest. "Well, waste not, want not. Let's get these corpses up and moving. I'd like to see that shaman's face when his own followers shamble forth to slaughter him." his stranger shadow begins to leak away from him, and sink into Billy's body. The corpse begins to twitch and jerk...

At the sight of those brave members of the Sioux Union who had become close with in recent months and learned much from, he could feel his heart sink. He silently offered a fervent wish to the spirits that as few of his brothers and sisters as possible would be taken in this. He silently chided himself for the thought, and wished more universally that as few of any people would find themselves victims of this horror. Still, he felt most truly in his heart that despite his better wishes, nothing would bring him a sadness as great as if those who were his closest friends, near as close as kin now, would perish. If Joseph himself should fall, or Little Running Bear, the Iroquois that had journeyed from the far Eastern waters...it would be more difficult than maybe he knew how to bear.

He could not shake the feeling of being watched. While his eyes found nothing, and he had found the tracks of no others when he had circled back before at these feelings, they would not be dispelled. Somewhere, somehow, eyes were upon him, and hiding had not helped that feeling. He did not know why he was still walking; perhaps it was simply a manifestation of his own fear and weakness. Fear was something that he hadn't known before, and something that he didn't know now. Others had called it foolishness, but he who watched the thunderstorms quietly even as a babe did not find fear easily. He would not quiver in fear or imagine things watching him. He refused to do so, though it did not shake the feeling.

The men that walked among the dead, though, turned his sinking heart to stone as he felt anger well up within him, fixing a resolve firmly in place. These were among those who were responsible for what was happening here. Long had the Whateley clan been mistrusted by Joseph Eyes-Like-Rain and the other shamans of the Sioux Union, who knew that these strange folk would strike for ill some day. That day had come now, to all of their regret.

Slowly, he settled the tomahawk at his belt as the men walked, though it was still loose. It appeared that he had been undetected, which gave him the chance he would need to plan an arrow in one of them. He did not know what filthy arts they practiced, what dark Ghost Medicine they called upon to serve them, but he could save many lives by putting an arrow through one of their throats. A bow in hand, and arrow knocked, he stayed hidden for a time, but when they began to work their dark magics on the body of Billy Iron Horse, he could stand it no longer.

The anger that had hardened his heart was cold, and he drew back an arrow, hoping to plant it through the head of the Whateley man that was working to raise up his brother from death. There was that he could do. He had no business living, while a warrior such as Billy Iron Horse had fallen. Iron Horse would protect him in life, but in death, Thunder Walker could see that Billy Iron Horse's body would not be used as a puppet for the manitou. At least he could do that much. He drew back his arm, lean but powerful in its own way, and released.

<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tg-yC0xcI9s">some mood music</a>

The arrow flies, but slowly...almost hesitantly. The dark-haired man in the top-hat has plenty of time to see it coming. He reaches up and plucks it out of the air, and looks at it with a detached disdain. "It would seem Elijah's freaks missed one." he says, tossing the arrow aside.

"Indeed so." His red-haired companion nods, looking directly at Thunder Walker and smiling. "Well, no matter. Time to swat this little fly."

"Agreed." The dark-hared one says, and gestures to Thunder Walker's hiding place. The shadows explode around the native son, forming arms with grasping claws and hideous tentacles that clutch and squirm around him, freezing him in place. The red-haired boy flips a card out of the deck in his hands and tosses it towards the frozen native. Something hideous squirms on the card face, a tiny demon with razor-sharp claws and teeth, that grows as it approaches the bound man.

The demon begins to claw and bite at Thunder Walker, ripping his flesh as the two continue their grisly work. Over the native son's screams of agony, the two continue conversing.

"Egads. What a waste." The dark-haired one says as Billy Iron Horse struggles upwards into unholy life. "That fellow won't be usable when your pet is through with him."

"It could have been worse." The red-head remarks. "He could have slunk away without us knowing he'd been there at all. He might have been able to warn someone."

The two laugh as they and the lurching corpse of Billy Iron Horse walk away from the square.

By the time the demon vanishes, consciousness is ebbing from Thunder Walker. The many wounds the thing inflicted on him while he was bound in the shadows sting and burn, and waves of fatigue roll over him. Suddenly, a bright tunnel of light opens in the sky. The spirits of the dead rise from the many corpses on the ground, untethered from their mortal frames. Thunder Walker feels it tugging on his own soul as well...

NO!

He wasn't quite able to form the word. If any scream came from him, at that moment it was a wordless howl, a cry of abject and stark terror the likes of which had never before emerged from his mouth as he was subjected to the twisted, demonic energies that were sent his way - dark powers pulled straight from the foulest manitous that roamed the Hunting Grounds. He had faced men, and he had faced foul creatures, and he had faced dark magic before, but something about that time and that moment sent fear coursing through his veins, pulsing through his body, striking his heart as truly as he had ever shot an arrow that met its mark.

As the column of light appeared above him, he reached for it. It was hard to tell whether he actually reached for it, but he wanted to reach for it. He wanted very, very badly that thing, that bright light, whatever it was that could only be the opposite of the shadows that had bound him. If anything could erase those, if anything could defeat them, it had to be that. He reached for it, perhaps with his arm, perhaps with his mind, perhaps with his heart. After that, he could think no more, and consciousness seemed to quickly fade from him.

some mood music

Thunder Walker struggles towards the light. He feels himself rising...then suddenly halts. The shadows grasping at him just will not let him go. He struggles with the grasping shadows, but eventually the tunnel closes, and Thunder Walker fins his spirit sinking back into his body. A wave of despair rushes over him as the shadows sink back into the darkness, leaving him battered and in pain, but still alive.

---

Moses walks from the tunnel onto a street in a nameless boomtown. A wave of dizziness passes over him as he looks over the street filled with corpses.

No. Not nameless. It's all coming back to him now...he isn't Moses, he's Elijah. This is his doing, this street of death. He is the prophet sent by God to usher in the Apocalypse, which would start in this town of Gomorra. His Flock caused these riots, as he demonstrated the perils of sin to the unclean, to scare them into accepting the Lord's blessed path before the end...

The black giant whispers: "Elija...", the name rolling uncomfortably off his tongue.
"Oh, Lord, is this Thy test for Thy humble servant? Is this what may become of Moses?"

Moses/Elijah takes in the carnage around him and nods. "No. Save Thunderwalker, save the world."

He looks around, searching for a sign of the living, his... flock. And an indian who died miles away at the holy mountain of Bear Butte.

Thunder Walker pulled himself up from the ground, crawling at first, and later with great and deliberate effort, rising to his feet. It felt to him as if pulling himself up while someone was holding him back and seemed to be a great labor on his part. He was full of anger now, remembering what had happened to Billy Iron Horse, and he held the tomahawk he had kept as his belt before, bow now slung over the shoulder. He brought himself up, and wanted to yell at the sky, at the spirits, at the manitou, at those who had brought force against him. But his nature took over, ever the scout, the silent warrior sliding in between enemy lines and striking at their heart, or reporting back with their movements, and he began to slink closer to one of the buildings nearby.

Thunder Walker sees someone wandering down the streets. At first, rage fills him. Isn't that Elijah? The psychotic prophet who started this whole mess, who whipped the town into a frenzy with the grotesque freaks of his "flock" and his preaching of the end of day?

But wait...no, it looks more like Moses...the other prophet, the one with the quiet assurance and the holy madness to guide him...

...wait, why is Moses here?

The Negro walks around, stopping ever once in a while to turn over a dead body or examine something on the ground, muttering to himself.

Watching him, it may become apparent that he's only examing the bodies of indians further or where piles of bodies are thrown onto each other.

Thunder Walker nearly collapsed from the sudden disorienting sensation that struck him just then. He seemed to have slipped out of time and space into Gomorra, and for a moment had forgotten about Bear Butte, consumed by the shadows of his past failures. When he saw Moses, it was as if he instantly recalled to him, all the memories of hours life after Gomorra pouring out of his subconscious.

"Moses!" He called loudly towards the tall black man. His voice was filled with a sense of desperation and sudden hope.

Moses unceremoniously drops the body he just lifted and turns around.
His face lights up, a broad, bright grin and he strides forward to Thunderwalker and, mabye uncharacteristically emotionally, hugs Thunderwalker, lifting the indian off his feet, before letting go again.

"Thunderwalker! The Lord be praised, for he let Moses find you."
He grows serious and somber again.
"You died on the battlefield against Raven's minions on the top of Bear Butte. Do you remember that?"

He gently touches Thunderwalker's shoulder.
"You are now fighting a last, great battle, Thunderwalker. A battle for your very soul. You have turned away from the light for now and risk getting stuck here... or worse.
Moses has asked the Lord to be your guide through this darkness. You will walk in the valley of shadows... but you shall not walk alone."

Thunder Walker was surprised at the embrace, but too shaken by the revelations, the memories or realizations to make much of it. It was a gesture of comfort and friendship, and he could not but instinctively return it.

"Dead...I have...Yes, I remember. The Hunkpapa...he was very strong." He shook his head, and looked about at the town around him. It could only be true that he was dead, for this place was far in his past, and far from Bear Butte. Whatever he was seeing here...it wasn't true somehow. But somehow it was also. He knew that even knowing what he did now, if he was to see the Whateley's trying to raise Billy Iron Horse again, he would do the same thing.

He looked at Moses, and saw for a moment others who had walked that same path. Reverend Simon Macpherson. Father Juan Navarro. Sister Mary Jebediah. He had not known them all well, but he had known them and that they were good. That they ultimately were fighting in the same battle. He had been distrustful of the white man and their spirits at that time, but time had shown him through those and then more recently through Moses that there were some that were good. Very good. Moses had shown himself to be good, and to be powerful. Wakan Tanka could scarcely have sent him a better guide, if he was to have been in this place at all.

"I did not know that death should be like this, but I will be proud to have your guidance in this dark place, if you can take me back to that...light. Did...the others live? Wovoka? The little Rabbit?"

"Screaming Rabbit fought Raven himself. Moses and Thunderwalker can be proud to be friends with Screaming Rabbit. The prophet Wovoka was wounded, but lives. The Almighty spirit saw it fit to heal Wovoka's wounds."

He pulls Thunderwalker more into the street and points around.
"This is not death. It is not life. We are between life and death. On the brink before an abyss, no, on the edge of a razor. Both a step forward and backwards can mean our doom, while doing nothing will slowly slice us in half as well.

Come now, we have to keep moving if we want to find our way back."

Wherever they were, Thunder Walker seemed suitably impressed, and also relieved to know that these had lived. "I will go where you lead, Moses." In this, Moses was like a medicine man. The holy madness would lead them out of this place, and he would follow the large black man wherever he lead. He began to move along with Moses.

((OOC: I'm going to need to get some more info, as this scenario has now changed radically...))

As they walk, Moses explains: "This is a battle of good and evil and they battle for souls. You will need a strong will and a good heart to survive this battle."

The pair walk along the corpse-strewn streets, heading vaguely south. Thunder Walker knows (not sure how he knows) that whatever horrors await them will come when they reach Lord Grimley's Manor, where the Whateleys live. And to reach that, they must pass through Elephant Hill Cemetery.

As the two wander, they hear the crack of a whip nearby. A high, shrill scream rends the air, and then the whip cracks again...

((OOC: Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Anyone?))

Moses stops dead in his tracks, his right hand subconsciously rubbing his left shoulder.
He licks his lips.
"Is this a test, Lord?" he asks, his voice unsure.
The shutters of a  nearby window slam shut.
Moses turns his head toward the sound and licks his lip.
"Thunder Walker, we now have to pass tests for both you and Moses."

Thunder Walker inside felt less confident and sure of himself than he normally did, but he held a steady voice and tried to steady his heart as they were to meet the unknown challenges before them. "They will not have our souls, Moses. We will pass our tests." He looked grimly towards where he knew Lord Grimley's Manor was, and the path it would take them through.

"You are here to guide me, Moses. Should we follow that sound of the whip?" He hoped the answer would be in the affirmative, as he wished to see what was being done there. He knew he may not wish to see, but he wished to do. To act.

The negro nods. "To have a chance at passing the tests, one has to face them."

But there are deep worry lines on his face and he seems to have to force himself to walk on, towards the sounds of whips.

The duo follow the sound of whip cracks to a hollow space in the square. A young Chinese boy (or is it a girl? it's hard to tell...) is lashed to a tree in the middle of the weeds and empty buildings.

The whip cracks again and again, eliciting even more shrill screams from the bound youth. The slavedriver grins as he pulls the whip back again, clearly enjoying the torture he's inflicting. He's a nasty fellow, wiry and tall, with long tangled hair and an equally long beard, both shot through with grey. There's death in his eyes as he turns to face the interlopers and scowls.

Thunder Walker has seen this man before...he's an enforcer for Sweetrock, by the name of Jim MacNeil. Moses also recognizes the man...but can't think why.

"Well, well." he says coldly. "What the fuck do we have here? Lookie-loos! This ain't none o' your concern, boys. Mosey on."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:40, Fri 04 Oct 2013.

Moses squints at the slaver, then steps forward.
For a moment, he's silent, but then utters a single word, forcefully: "No."

"No," he says, eerily speaking at the same moment as Moses. He exchanged a brief glance at the black one, and nodded, as if taking confidence from the timing of their words.

"You will leave this one here and now, or you will fall, by the fury of the spirits and the Holy Madness." He lifted up a tomahawk as if to threaten MacNeil.

"No?" MacNeil says, frowning. Then his ugly face split into a grin as he cackles. "You think you can take me, boy? I saw what them Whateleys did to you. Mighty heap brave Injun you are, boy. I'm guessing you couldn't fight your way out o' a paper sack. What makes you think you can hinder me?"

The little Chinese Youth just hunches there, shivering.

Moses takes a step forward.
"No", he repeats, more forcefully.

"Whateleys have powerful bad medicine. You, you have no medicine. You have nothing. And I have..." he said, pausing just a moment, looking over at the man beside him, then back again at MacNeil.

"I have Moses. You will not be suffered to cause more harm here."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:14, Fri 27 Sept 2013.

"You have Moses." Macniel sneers. "And what does Moses have? Would you really put your faith in such a lunatic? And a murderous one, at that! Did he ever tell you about why he went into the desert in the first place? It's cause they'd have hung him for what he'd done!"

There was a flash of a shred of... something. A memory? A vision? Something someone had told him? A man. A whip. Not a Chinese, though. No, it was... but it kept slipping away.

He steps forward, his hands unconsciously clamped into fists.
His voice trembles, but not with fear, but with righteous furor.

"Moses did not go into the desert, but came out of it. Born from the Lord's will, made manifest through his glorious power. Moses is the Almighty's most humble servant, his relentless striking hammer of vengeance."

Another step.

"Step away from her."

Like a predator, Thunder Walker moved in a circle, tomahawk brandished. While Moses walked towards MacNeil, the Lakota brave circled to take an opposite position, to give threat on either side, at the same time moving closer slowly and wordlessly, ready to strike at any time.

MacNeil doesn't flinch as the pair approach him. His cruel grin, in fact, gets even wider. "Make me." he says. "Let he who is without sin throw the first punch."

"You quote the teachings of the prophet Jesus."
Moses takes another step, standing now across the slaver, just in punching distance, his fists still clenched.

"There were other prophets before the son of Joseph and Mary. There was the prophet Ezekiel. He said the path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.
Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."

Moses relaxes his fists.
"Most will see you as the tyranny of evil men. And Thunder Walker as the righteous man. And Moses as the Lord's furious anger striking those who attempt to poison and destroy the Lord's children."

He raises his right hand, not balled up in a fist, but open, either requesting the whip or offering a handshake.

"But the truth is: You are the weak, wandering through the valley of darkness. And Moses is his brother's keeper."
He nods toward the Chinese.
"And the finder of lost children."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:16, Fri 04 Oct 2013.

"He is a bad man, Moses. He will not give it over. Money and the causing of suffering and pain to others are all that he gives value to." He meant this to warn Moses, as he feared that MacNeil would strike at the holy madman.

Jim MacNiel stares at the opened hand, spits on the ground, and steps back. "Fuck this. I got places to be." he says. "Little Chink's gonna die of the whippin' before too long anyhow."

And he walks off.

As the man retreated, the brave's first thought was not for revenge, but to free the youth, using his belt knife to sever the bindings that bound the young man to the tree. "Moses, can you use your medicine to heal the rabbit?"

Moses kneels down and spreads his arms.
"Come, child."

The kid drops like a broken puppet when cut down, but stirs and tries to crawl vaguely towards Moses at the prophet's urging. It's shortly clear to Thunder Walker that this is a slight woman who's had her hair hacked closely as a mark of disgrace, not a young man whose hair has grown out, though the resemblance to Screaming Rabbit is uncanny.

Fever-bright eyes try to fix on Moses, and her lips twitch. The tested men somehow understand her Cantonese with the clarity of dreams as she reaches out and tries to grip at Thunder Walker's leg: <"...water...water water water water water...">

It took Thunder Walker a moment to fully absorb the details he was just now noticing. Always tasked with seeing from far, he had failed to see from close what her perhaps should have noticed. He had known but few of these people, some well, some not well, and even some of the men had seemed slight. It had seemed natural to accept at face value that this youth was but a lost boy. Still, it was different to see that the one whose true name was for the purple fruit was in fact a woman. She did not have all of the shape that many women have, which must have made it easy to use the guise of being a boy. But he could see it. There were small things that pointed the way now to him.

Recalling himself to the present moment, he removed a waterskin from his belt and knelt, opening it and handing it to Screaming Rabbit, then looking to Moses for some solution that he was sure the man must have.

Fumbling like one half-blind, the girl manages to grip the waterskin and tries to drink. Thunder Walker's attention causes her to half-curl, more in the manner of one too hurt and exhausted to fight than one concerned for modesty; it's likely further injuries are hidden by the mask of blood from her lacerated back.

Moses might be able to heal her, but whilst the warriors of righteousness delay, the Whateleys' plans may progress beyond the point where they might be interrupted...

Moses gently touches Rabbit's shoulder.
"This is another test." he says, matter-of-factly.
"We are at a crossroads here, Thunder Walker. Moses can help Screaming Rabbit here and maybe heal some of the damage her soul has taken in life. Maybe this will not matter to her in the real world.
It will mean that you will either have to go on by yourself and face your tasks alone - or that you stay here and fail them."

The negro gently kisses Rabbit's forehead.
"Moses came here to guide Thunder Walker through the valley of darkness. But he will not abandon you."

Moses stands up and lifts the small Chinese up, cradling the girl like a child in his arms.

"Let us go on." His voice is assured, and determined. If he feels that he just gave up a part of his own soul to save Thunder Walker's, he doesn't let it show.

The girl's breathing catches as Moses lifts her, but she doesn't struggle, instead instinctively reaching to hang her arm around Moses' neck. There are bruises under the rope burns at her wrist.

A few delirious murmurs pass her lips before some step or bump in the road causes her to flinch and look up, staring through Moses with wide, haunted eyes. One clear fragment surfaces: <<"...where was your God?">>

Then her gaze becomes vague as she seems to fall asleep, her loosened grip leaving a trail of blood down Moses' chest. Moses starts to feel his arms grow tired under the warm deadweight, every step seeming to increase the effort needed to keep her aloft. A dozen paces later, her small body might as well be made of lead.

"To leave this one behind, will be to fail the test. What mercy can the spirits, or your God show me when I would abandon an innocent to suffer harm, simply because I saw my own salvation in it - even if this place is not real?" he asked, rhetorically.

When Moses picked up Rabbit, he nodded. It was a good solution. "We will stay together, all of us, even then to walk through this valley of darkness."

Moses physically strains with every step until he finally almost topples over - and he would have, had Thunder Walker not caught his fall.
Breathing heavily, he puts Screaming Rabbit down.

Moses wipes cold sweat from his brow, then strokes Rabbit's, gently again, until the youth's eyes flutter open.
"The Lord is ever watching, Screaming Rabbit. The Almighty has seen your pain and suffering. Did he not give you the strength to flee? Did he not send you friends?"

The girl's lashes flicker at Moses' touch, but the stirring does not become full wakefulness.

Whether the torturer's predictions were true or not, it seems from her long, shallow breaths that the small youth is beyond hearing for some hours at least. In all liklihood, if Moses and Thunder Walker leave her now she'll never know.

"You have come here to give me guidance, Moses, but I must carry my own duties, my responsibilities..." he said. Somehow, he knew it was true. He would not have expected the large negro to tire as he did, but it must have been a sign. Others could not carry out his responsibilities for him, even if they could aid him and show him the way.

"I will carry this one, and you lead me through this darkness, to that light again." With familial care, and the chaste touch that a brother would use to hold a sister, he lifted the young woman into his arms, and looked to Moses.

The girl makes a quiet, unconscious whimpering as Thunder Walker's forearms and chest become red-streaked from her wounds. Thunder Walker has no trouble carrying her, but as he does so it's impossible not to note how soft her exposed skin feels against his own. A railroad worker could not possibly bathe often enough with soap or oils to have flesh like that, yet what else could she be?

And if she was not directly in Iron Dragon's pay, why was a Sweetrock enforcer torturing her? Perhaps she was a thief, or a spy...

Moses, for his part, does not hear any reassurance from God. He doesn't hear anything at all, in fact. The heavens remain silent to him. It's as if the Lord's presence had suddenly been withdrawn from him.

Moses keeps looking over his shoulder, walking a few steps ahead of Thunder Walker.

For the first time that Thunder Walker has known the negro, he seems uncertain, almost hesistant.
He mutters something from time to time, but never breaks into the familiar, knowing smile as he usually does.

Like so many streaks of war paint drawn from dark red berries, crimson streaks from the unhealed wounds of the woman he carried in his arms marred the hairless skin of the Lakota brave's exposed chest. He did not think of her as a woman, but the impossibly soft feeling of her skin was hard to ignore, and the unfamiliar softness disturbed the thoughts. He did not know what to make of Screaming Rabbit, having now discovered that the youth he had once taken from a boy was merely presenting a disguise. Why had she been running through the Lakota lands? What was her relation to the Green Snake Tribe? Was she in truth named after the purple fruit, or was that too another story? Why in this place, this walking nightmare, was Jim MacNeil beating her to death?

These things didn't matter, in many ways. The revelations changed some things about Screaming Rabbit, but not the most important. She seemed even braver now in retrospect when he considered the fights in which the woman had taken place for the sake of the people - the times she had risked her own life for them. This burden in his arms, this responsibility was not something he could put down.

Deep in thought, it had taken him some time to notice that Moses seemed hesitant and uncertain. If anything gave him pause and concern, this would be it. Moses was never hesitant or unsure that he remembered. The large negro had always been confident, listening to the voices on the winds and speaking mad phrases and sometimes doing mad things, but leading a wise course in the end. Once, he might have been hesitant in putting his trust in a madman, but if there was something that the Storm Born one now feared, it was that the Holy Madness had abandoned Moses.

"Where do we go, Moses?"

At the question, Moses stops and turns.
He gently strokes Rabbit's brow pushing a strand of hair out of her face.
The silence between the two stretches, then finally Moses replies.
"There was a man, once, long ago. His name was Job. He was the Lord's most pious follower and enjoyed riches both material and sentimental. He was truly blessed."
The negro sighs.
"Then the Great Adversary, Luzifer, claimed that it was easy for Job to follow the Almighty. Had not the Lord given him lands and cattle and houses?"
Moses turns around, his back now to Thunder Walker.
"So the Lord allowed Luzifer to take away all that was important to Job, everything but his life. Job was desperate and he cursed his bad luck, wished that he was never born. But he never abandoned the Lord.
The Lord has seen fit to test Moses in the same way now, it seems. Once he had brought Moses here, He showed him the errors of Elias, the false prophet of Gomorra. More, He had shown Moses that he was Elias. For it is easy to stray from the path of righteousness. There have been two tests, at least, for Moses. He does not know if he passed them or not.

Moses raises his arms, left and right, hands balled up to fists.
"YOUR HUMBLE SERVANT WILL NOT ABANDON YOU, LORD! MOSES WILL CONTINUE TO WALK THROUGH THE DESERT, AS HE DID BEFORE."
He lets his arms down again.
"Or he will perish trying. If this is what it takes to bring Thunder Walker back, then so be it." he adds, more quietly.

He turns around to Thunder Walker again. "You were brought here for a purpose, Thunder Walker. A test, a task, a battle where you failed before, in your life or in your dreams, perhaps? What was it? You will have to face it here again, but not alone."

"Moses, that is a question that I do not know the answer for, but perhaps you can explain to me. Perhaps you can find the meaning in this. When I was here last, I was part of a great fight, a battle. We fought, braves and shamans from all tribes, and we had allies that many others of these tribes would not. We fought with allies that were of the scientists, of the people who worship your God, and of people who fly both of the American flags who in that fight were allies to each other if only for a short time. We fought things that were much worse, things that should not be."

"In that battle, I fell, but I did not die. I took a wound, and I lost blood, and I fell on the field of battle." He looked down at Li, the purple fruit girl, the Screaming Rabbit, and his thoughts fled again to Wovoka, and to Joseph Eyes-Like-Rain. "I traveled west with a shaman called Eyes-Like-Rain, known to the whites as Joseph. He was a great, great man, and I saw him safely to this place. But I did not see him safely through that battle. And this unworthy brave lived on, while so many great shamans and warriors died."

"I thought that perhaps, if I were to give my life, if others would live in my place, then I would have repaid the price for my failure in life and find my place in the Hunting Grounds. But there too I have failed. I do not know why I am here Moses, or what I must do. But I cannot let you fall to harm to save me, and I cannot let this girl come to harm. Even if she is not real, and you are not real here, and I am not real here...I will not be saved to live while others die around me."

Moses shakes his head.
"No, Thunder Walker. You are really here. You have died in the Battle of Bear Butte. Now, it will be decided if your soul will go to Heaven... or not.
Moses has come here to guide you, but he is real. His body lies sleeping next to your and it could very well be that soon he draws its last breath.
But she...", he indicates the girl, "is not here."

His eyes narrow and he nods. "Yes... She was too heavy a burden for Moses, but you manage. Moses thinks she, here, is your mortal soul, almost torn apart by the evil here."

He looks around, searches the streets and houses.
"Where did this man, Eyes like Rain, fall? Saving him may be the test for you, Thunder Walker."

The pair reach the edge of town as they converse. Before them stretches a wide cemetery. Elephant Hill. Thunder Walker remembers that, in the real world, the Whateley Manor was at the edge of town, with the cemetery next to it. But here, he knows that to get to Lord Grimley's Manor (and he couldn't say why he knows this is the place he has to go, only that it is so) he and Moses must travel through the rows of graves. And there is something horrifying about the prospect. of course, he could move much faster, and be sure to have a weapon ready to defend himself, if only he were to set the sleeping Screaming Rabbit down...

"The Whateley Manor. I was told he died there doing a great thing, taking a life of the powerful...you would call her witch. In that deed, so too did he die. Remember the name Whateley, Moses. Some of their family escaped this place, and they are doers of great evil," he said.

"But we go another way this day," he said, gesturing with his head towards the Whateley estate. "I do not know how, but I know this is where we must go - there through the rows of the stones where the white men bury their dead, up to that large building in the distance. Something tells me we must go here. But I will need your help. And the help of the spirits, and your Lord."

"When it is time to fight, give me cover while I lay down this Rabbit to rest, and then see to her while I fight my battles. If I fall again here, do not weep. Death is but a part of the cycle. See to your safety, and know that if I have managed to find the Hunting Grounds to rejoin my ancestors, I will tell them of your deeds." For the first time, he took the lead, but only slightly in front of Moses. He guided, but he walked alongside the man, as he knew he would need the help of Moses and his guidance if they were to find a way to succeed.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:02, Tue 22 Oct 2013.

some mood music

The two warriors enter the graveyard. A sickly grey mist curls along the blacked, cursed ground of Elephant Hill. The forest of stone and wooden headstones stretches as far as the eye can see...which isn't actually far, as the cold mist cuts vision down to almost nothing.

The little girl in Thunder Walker's arms stirs fitfully, though she doesn't wake. Thunder Walker feels goosebumps rise on his arms as a bitter wind caresses him, an icy series of needles dancing on his skin.

Moses feels the cold, true, but knows there's something else to it...something rank and unholy. The silence begins to gnaw at him. He can't feel the holy presence here. perhaps he never could.

They travel a while, the chill never abating, the silence absolute.

Until it's shattered by a childish giggle, somewhere off in the mist. Something moves, a spinning figure that seems to dance from head stone to wooden cross, without a care in the world...

Moses steps in front of Thunder Walker, scanning the mist for the child.

"This place is haunted by ghosts, Thunder Walker. Tread carefully."

A deep worry line appears on Moses forehead. Had this all been a dream? Had the Lord abandoned him? Or didn't he - for maybe he never had been in His Holy Presence.

"No... the Lord is testing Moses. He warned his humble servant, when he asked to be a guide to Thunder Walker. Moses did not need the warning..."

He mutters, under his breath, trying hard to convince himself.

"Who goes there?" he called, even as he crouched, leaning low to lay the girl down gently upon the ground so that he could pull forth his weapon.

"Stay and watch her, Moses. I will return to carry her once it is time to move. Call out your guidance if you have it, or if you are set upon." With a quiet, he stalked out from where they were to the place he had detected movement. He had been a scout among the Lakota, and had at one time worked as a scout for some of the railmen, and he knew how to move quietly - in the forests, or in this graveyard.

"Make a wish, make a wish, make a wish all. Toss in a coin and hope they all fall..." comes the reply to Thunder Walker's call. The dancing figure skips deeper into the mist. "Would you dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight? Or would you rather dance with me in the pale moonlight? My brothers tell me there's very little difference..."

Thunder Walker cateches sight of the dancing figure as he creeps deeper into the graveyard after her. Were the creepy woman in the white dress in possession of her faculties, she'd likely be regarded as one of the most beautiful in town. As it is, her black hair is long and tangled, and her expensive white dress is torn and soiled. She babbles constantly, her garbled speech mixing child's nursery rhymes and Gothic poetry. She clutches a rag doll in her hands, one which she occasionally jabs with a needle and thread. The undeniable light of madness shines in her eyes as she pirouettes among the graves.

She turns and looks directly at Thunder Walker, hidden as he is as he creeps after her. "Tyger, Tyger, burning bright, in the gravestones of the night! I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight!" She giggles, then motions towards him with the rag doll in her hand. "We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men, leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass."

With that bizarre turn of phrase, she skips away...but the ground that Thunder Walker stands on begins to shift and roll...the graves! Something is moving beneath his very feet!"

With a barbaric war cry, the Lakota brave swiftly brought his tomahawk down towards the ground with as much strength and ferocity as he could find in his own arms. He knew where they were, in the place where the people of Gomorra poorly buried their own, without proper ritual and ceremony often times. And he knew what some of these people that he was after did, raising the dead from their graves. So when the ground began to give way, the only thing he could think to do was to strike the dead one before it could rise to take him.

Moses sits down on a tree stump, the girl still draped across his arms and lays her on his lap.
The fog closes in around him and while he can still hear the ghostly woman's taunts and has a sense where Thunder Walker is, for a moment he is alone.

"Long ago, Moses was alone in the desert", he muses, quietly, his deep voice rumbling. He gently rubs a speck of dirt from Rabbit's forehead.
"And you are you, truly, little Rabbit? You are not here, not like Thunder Walker. Not like... me."
He blinks and shakes his head, as if to clear it. The slaver... he had killed him. Strangled him with his own whip.... Leonard's whip. Leonard, who had whipped...

Moses head reels from the memories rushing in and he feels dizzy, his stomach heaves and he barely manages to turn his head and vomit to the side. Then the tears come rushing and he cries, holding Screaming Rabbit tight to his chest, holding her as much as holding onto her.

The blade hacks into the ground, and sticks there. The monster pulling up from the ground is not some poor white man, though...he recognizes her.

Dances in the Wind. He knows her. She shouldn't be here, not in this terrible place, he hadn't even met her until after he'd returned to the Sioux Nations. But it's unmistakably her, despite the rot eating away at her face and the spiders crawling out of her mouth.

"Whyyyyyy?" She moans, as she pulls herself fully from the grave. She lurches toward Thunder Walker. "Whyyyyyyyyy?"

And she wasn't the only one asking. All around Thunder Walker, the dead were rising. Indian dead, white dead...so many. And so many that he knows. He can see Horn Chips, lurching towards him, eyes glowing read as he moans. The white man with the red hair and freckles, who he'd died trying to save, shuffles toward him. Chief Little Bear drags his bladed war club behind him.

And even Wovoka, with a small whole in his forehead and the back of his head a bloody, pulped mess, is shuffling toward him, asking him "Whyyyyyyyyyy?"

---

As moses holds the little girl, he can feel her heart beginning to slow. The wounds she was dealt must be grievous indeed...she'll die without aid.

Moses sobs, then takes a few deep breaths, pulling himself together.
"You shall not die, Screaming Rabbit. Not here. Moses... I.. will help you."
He puts her down on the ground, as gently as possible, then starts examining her.

Unbidden, the salty sting of tears burned the Lakota warrior's eyes, as hot as a fire in the camp or the passion he had for this one, or the anger in his heart. Why did I fail again? he asked himself, an echo of the question they were all asking him, or at least the meaning he gave to their words. Stumbling, he had no choice but to retreat. He pulled free the tomahawk, but he could not bring himself to bear to strike her.

[Language unknown: "Eeles ard setac toing. Any sommi st was. E hi ratch naos. Ard an strio mo round."] He backed away toward Moses. They had to flee. It was the only way. To run from these. There were too many to fight, and there was Dances in the Wind, and he could not fight her.

@Moses:

The girl's wounds are grave. She needs immediate help, or she will die. It might be too late already. The lacerations in her skin from the slaver's whip are deep, and she's lost a lot of blood.

Suddenly, he hears an achingly familiar voice. "Mo?"

A shadow glides through the mist...from here, it almost looks like a woman in a homespun dress, but he can't make out any features. "Mo? Is that you here? I...I'm lost, Mo. I'm scared...there's somethin' out here..." the figure begins moving further into the mist. "Mo? Where are you? You said you'd come get us. You promised. Mo? Where did you go?"

---

@Thunder Walker

As the dead with friendly faces begin to crowd around Thunder Walker, reaching for him, asking him "why?" and "why?" again, the girl in the white dress begins to sing, slightly off-key...

"~#A dream is a wiiiiiiish your heart makes...when you're fast asleeeeeeep...in dreams you will loooooose your heartache...whatever you wish for you keeeeeeep...#~"

Moses strains to look into the fog, then down at Rabbit again. Her wounds seem to mimic his own, at least he notices a gash coming down her left shoulder down onto her chest.
Thinking that he may finally understand, he looks up at the sky.
"Lord, I am but a man. A man of no education, no knowledge, no skills. Any power I have... had... came from you. This girl has not sinned, but sins were committed against her. Moses... I ... cannot ask for any favors, no more than you have already given me.
Will you accept my blood for hers? Those lashes were not meant for her, but for me."

The voice out of the mist makes him nod. Perhaps he truly understood the Lord correctly now.

"I am here, Abigail!" He calls out. "Follow my voice..."

Closing his eyes and tracing his fingers gently along Rabbit's wounds, he starts to sing, loudly.
"Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see."

[Language unknown: "Ai ulain erebutnce toin ro, are Ev llca pomen thi ardsansom al plolhe unse as rous,"] he said, gently pushing his way through the thronging masses of the dead, the images of the dead that he had to believe were not real. They would not be here, but in the hunting grounds where the buffalo were endless, or their souls would return to the world, to be ghosts or to be born again. He pushed his way away from that singing voice, though the words haunted his every step.

He moved back towards Moses as swiftly as he might.

Moses feels a feeble effort to curl away from his touch; when he next looks down there's a dark, feverish glimmer from under the girl's lashes, though it cannot be told if she sees anything or is even truly conscious. Her pale hand curls into the dirt, the bruises and rope burns at her wrist highlighting how delicate she is, how fragile the link that holds her to life.

She may be here to take wounds from many men, but she's too small, too weak to live with them. Moses' fingers come away still more red with her blood, her breathing picking up a slight shudder as her lungs threaten to fail her helpless mind's command.

Nothing happens magically to the wounds on Rabbit, and the lashes on Moses' back remain closed. Either the Lord cannot hear Moses, cannot help Moses, or has abandoned him. Had he any healing skill of his own, he could attempt to bind her wounds without the Lord's help. But as it is, she's dying, and he can't rely on the Lord to intervene.

"Mo?" the voice of Abigail calls again. "What are you doing that's so important you can't come to me, Mo? I can't...can't see..." The shadowy figure stumbles over a gravestone. There's a pained scream, and then a babbling voice..."Help me! Oh, help me, Mo...I think I hurt somethin' when I fell..."

---

The dead with familiar faces surround Thunder Walker on all sides, pushing him, blocking his way, attempting to pull him down to death.

A dark shadow falls over him, and a charnel stench fills Thunder Walker's nose as Rotten Bear Killer (or at least, a shadowy form large enough and foul-smelling enough to be the man) rises to meet him.

"You have failed, Thunder Walker." The giant shadowy brave rumbles as it raises its mighty bladed war club over its head. "It is time for you to fall. I own you now."

The club swings in an arc, terrifyingly fast, yet time seems to slow for Thunder Walker as the deadly club looms...

((OOC: All your tests are over, Thunder Walker. You wind up with a total of -1. Make a Spirit roll (-1), which will be opposed by The Shadow Brave's Spirit. You get to roll first.))
This message was last edited by the player at 00:18, Tue 10 Dec 2013.

"Moses... I am sorry, little Rabbit. I have no useful skills but for those gifts the Lord has granted."
Tears are streaming down the giant's face, splashing down on Rabbit's wounds.
"But even if I can't heal you, I shall not let you die here. Stay with me a little longer, Screaming Rabbit."

He rises, his bulky frame pushing the mists away from him before it settles again.
"I'm coming, Abby. I am, finally, coming back to you."

Thunder Walker fought mightily against the host of those that worked to pull him down, struggling in vain to reach Moses and Screaming Rabbit, to try once more. His efforts were completely and totally futile. Those with the faces of his friends and loved ones now thrust him in the way of the vile stink of a giant brave of shadows. It seemed darkly familiar to him. He held out hope for a moment, perhaps that there might have been a light again, that there might be spirits here to save him, that Moses would have his Holy Madness again and save him, but the hope was faint.

It was feather in a strong wind. It was lone buffalo left from the herd, after the buffalo hunters had slaughtered the rest. One tipi in a burning village after a Pawnee raid. One child of the people fleeing from Custer's host. A tuft of grass on the edge of a cliff, with a falling man gripping it. But it was all that he had.

---

OOC:

Here goes...
Spirit: 14

That's good...right?

17:57, Today: Thunder Walker rolled 14,1 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+3)15,2. Spirit.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:04, Tue 10 Dec 2013.

Moses hears the girl whisper as he stands, her words almost soft as a breath.
<"I can't...I am sorry...I am...only a weak and dishonourable person.">

---

The giant rains blows down on the mighty brave, the same series of wounds that had so broken him before...

((OOC: The roll is made. Now it's up to Moses to act, as he's still got a couple more tests of his own. I'll reveal the results once it's all said and done. }:D ))

Moses stops and looks down at the girl in his arms.
"NO", he replies, more forcefully than he intended and he softens his voice as she startles.
"No, you are not dishonorable. And you are not weak. Sometimes, the Lord puts us in difficult situations to test us. And you have won every test, Screaming Rabbit. You have escaped your tormentors. You have pacified the blood feud between the Pawnee and the Lakota, at least for now. You have faced Raven and he was the one to tuck tail and run.
You are the Lord's most favored sheep. When your time comes, you will add your soul to the scales of the Reckoning. And it will add tremendous weight to the forces of Good."

He takes a few more steps into the direction of Abigail's voice.
"I, Moses, have been tested before, too. When the white man still owned men... and women and children. I fled. I killed my tormentor and I fled."
He keeps walking, slowly, but steadily.
"Thou Shalt Not Kill, sayeth the Lord. I knew that, but I did it. And I ran. Ran as fast as my feet carried me. They sent the dogs after me. They sent men with horses and rifles and pistols after me. And I ran, and I hid until I could run and hide no more."

More steps now, and he evades a gracestone, then another to return to his original path.
"I had a wife, Abigail. And I promised I would return and get her. Get her and the baby. I did not. I failed my wife. I failed my unborn child. I ran into the desert. So thirsty. So hungry. There was this cave. I crawled into the space between the rocks and I was crying.
That was when the Lord lifted me up. I do not remember what he said. But I found a small passage leading deeper into the cave. I crawled through the darkness until I saw light again. And Moses came out on the other side, the Lord's prophet, tool and servant."

He stops, cocking his head as he listens for his lost wife, then calls out:
"I wanted to come back, Abby. But I couldn't. If they had found me, they would have dragged me back to the plantation. They would have killed you, or done worse, right before my eyes. And then they would've killed me, and left our bodies out in the sun, as a warning to the others.
I would've died for you, Abby, and gladly. But I could not bear the thought to see you suffer."

He lifts Screaming Rabbit a bit higher and stretches his arms out.
"I, truly, deserve your pain and anger. But this girl does not. Will you help mend her wounds, Abigail? I know you can. You do not need to forgive me to help her."

Moses holds Rabbit out to the shambling figure. Abigail staggers out of the mist, arms outstretched.

Her bloody flesh hangs in strips, staining her dress with blood. Her eyes are black pits in her skull, empty voids. She smiles at Moses, her mouth filled with sharp shards of bone that only vaguely resemble teeth.

"Oh, Mo. Of course I'll help relieve you of your burden." the monster says, in Abby's sweet voice. It smiles wider, twisting the hideously familiar face further, and raises its razor-clawed fingers towards the limp form of Screaming Rabbit. "Hand her here."

Moses can't help but make a step back.
Is this mockery, an illusion? Or...?

He pushes Screaming Rabbit up, eliciting a cry of pain as he lifts her across his left shoulder. Her wounds open up yet more and he feels blood stream down his back.
Moses raises his right arm.

"No. You are not my Abigail. You may be her anger and pain made manifest, but you are not her. You are mocking me, Moses, the Lord's prophet. You are mocking the Lord and all forces of Good!
Take one step closer, raise your hands an inch and I shall destroy your evil so that what is good may flourish."

His fingers close to a fist.
"The Lord has commanded:
Never shall innocent blood be shed,
Yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river.
If you work for the Reckoners, you better be ready to die for them.
You. will. not. take. her!
"

The thing takes a step closer. "What's the matter, Mo? Do you find me repulsive?" its belly begins to distend, swelling out, ripping the remains of its dress. "Was it the baby, Mo? Did that make me so hideous to you that you'd run off? Was that why you find comfort in the arms of some Chinese whore rather than your own sweet wife?"

It takes another step. "Your dear and fluffy Lord ain't here, Mo. It's only you and me here." The ghastly monster with Abigail's voice says, mocking Moses. "Can't you see He's forsaken you? Maybe he was never really there to begin with, Mo. Maybe you didn't really hear his voice at all. Maybe you're just a poor, broken lunatic."

"You are not my wife."
He grits his teeth.

"I know the Lord is watching us, right now. And even if he were not, I, Moses, would still remain his prophet. I may have abandoned wife and child, my friends, my fellow slaves. I will not abandon the Lord, for He is the savior and Moses is his most humble servant!"

And with that he swings his fist forward, into the demon's face, then pulls back for another punch, turning to keep Screaming Rabbit away from the manitou.

Moses' fist sends the creature skidding into a nearby grave. There's a sickening {CRACK!} as the woman's head hits the stone, and she looks up at Moses, tears in her eyes. "Mo..." She gasps, unable to complete anything more before her eyes roll back up and she sinks limply to the ground.

There is no monster in front of Moses. Just a dead woman, a trail of blood from a broken skull dripping down the gravestone behind her.

And, from around Moses, the rasping, mocking laugh of more figures in the mist.

A giant, shadowy figure ambles towards Moses, dragging the battered body of Thunder Walker by his hair. The horrible, charnel stench of the giant fills Moses' nose as it draws closer.

"Well done!" It chortles. "Was your Lord watching that?"

Moses lowers his fist, for the moment ignoring the giant.
He kneels down, Screaming Rabbit's weight suddenly heavy on his shoulder.

Tears stream down his face.
"Have I killed my woman... or beaten a demon disguised as one?"
He turns and looks at the giant dragging Thunder Walker.
"I have tried to help Thunder Walker back into the light."
He lets Screaming Rabbit gently down from his shoulder back into his arms.
"I have tried to help Screaming Rabbit."

Then he looks up into the dark sky.
"Have I let you down, Lord? You have let me walk this path alone, Lord. Have I gone astray without your guidance?"

He stands up, heavily and turns to face the tall figure. An unusual experience for Moses, having to look up to someone's face.

"Enough. I shall take Thunder Walker and bring him back into the light. The Lord helps those who help themselves, it is said. My eyes may deceive me, but I know in my heart that this was not Abigail. She never did anything to deserve to be sent to this place. I do not know if she is still alive. But if she is dead, her soul adds its weight to the scales of good."

He takes another step forward to the shadowy figure.
"Give him to me, or the Lord may have mercy on your soul... if you have one.", he demands, his voice strong and forceful as ever.

The shadowy brave just laughs. "If you want him, come and claim him." He drops Thunder Walker, then smoothly readies his mighty war club and eases into a battle stance.

Out in the mist, Moses can sense other monsters gathering in a circle around him, the shadowy brave, and the fallen warrior. God has left him to his own devices, surrounded by evil in this wasteland.

((OOC: I think I'm going to resolve this battle in the center of the mind as a Duel. Whoever wins the final face-off here will get the Dominion point when we get to the Shoot-Out phase, and the final roll will be to see whether Moses succeeds in his original goal or not. here's how we're going to run it:

Step 1: Face Off. Draw two face-down cards, then you and the fugly manitou will verbally spar a bit, making opposed Taunt (attempts to psych out, irritate, or belittle the opponent), Intimidate (attempts to worry or scare the opponent, or deliver a devastating "The Reason You Suck" speech), or Persuasion (attempts to psych yourself up using various Wold of Cardboard Speeches or Kirk Summations) checks. Good in-character banter entitles you to a bonus, so choose your method of attack wisely. The winner gets an extra Hole card for each Success and Raise over the loser. The loser ALSO gets -2 on the Dominion check in step 4.

Step 2: Luck o’ the Draw. I draw three cards. You can say "Shoot!" and try to make the best hand you can get, or say "Draw!" and attempt to get another card. Both characters must say Draw to get another card. Another card is drawn, and the players may decide whether to Shoot or Draw again. If both Draw, then a final card is drawn, and you must make the best hand you can out of what's there.

Step 3: Reach for it!  The duelists show the best five-card poker hand they can make from the face-up cards and at least two of their hole cards. Remember, Jokers are wild! Whoever wins the hand gets the point of Dominion.

Step 4: Swappin' Lead. Now we make the final Dominion check. Moses currently has 3 Dominion over the Manitou, which is good for a +3 bonus on the Spirit roll. He stands to gain +1 Dominion, giving him a nice +4 bonus over the Manitou, but he might fail both the opposed check and the duel for dominion and wind up with no bonus whatsoever. Once the final Dominion score is calculated, Moses will make an Opposed Spirit check against the Manitou. The winner may claim Thunder Walker's soul.

If the manitou wins, he gets Thunder Walker, TW will be Harrowed, and Moses will be possessed by another manitou. If Moses wins, then Thunder Walker's soul is safe to pass on, or, if the Ghost Dance is successful, Thunder Walker will be called back to full life.))

13:31, Today: Moses drew the 2 cards: AH, QD using the Deadlands system. Face Off Cards.
Using Intimidate... fits better with this scene, I'd say.

13:32, Today: Moses rolled 5 using 1d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Adding the Legend Chip to that.
13:32, Today: Moses rolled 1,5 using d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,5. Intimidate.
13:32, Today: Moses rolled 3 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Adding the blue chip.

13:46, Today: Moses rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. another blue. sigh...

Total of <b>14 If I were to spend a white chip now... would I reroll all of it? So d4, d6 (skill, wild die), 2d6 (blue chips), 1d6+2 (legend chip)?</b>


Moses nods. "I see", he replies after a few moments of silence.
He looks around. "You have brought more of the forces of Evil with you, Moses sees. And it is right you did so. For you alone are not enough to stop the Lord's servant.
You think you have power, but you are just pawns in the Reckoner's game. And you will be their first meal when they enter the real world.
Even now they blind you with their gifts of strength and endurance. But the Lord sent Moses, alone, for He knew in His glorious wisdom that his loyal and humble servant would be strong enough to help Thunder Walker back into the light.
I, Moses, shall be the vengeful striking hammer of God. And I will destroy those who stand against us."

Waiting for the outcome to see how many more cards (if any) I get.

((OOC: If you were to spend a white chip, you would reroll everything, including the chips already spent. If you want to do that, let me know. I'll wait for your decision before rolling for the Big Bad))

19:48, Today: Moses rolled 5,7,8,4 using d4,d6,2d6,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of (4+1)5,(6+1)7,5,3,2. Re-roll Initimidate.
So that's... 7+8+4, also known as 19. I'll take that.
2 Whites, 3 reds remaining

The shadowy brave contemplates Moses' words.

"Your god has abandoned you, Moses." It says. "You aren't on some mission of mercy. You are no savior, no prophet. You are simply a madman out of his depth."

But there's something of a quaver in the shadowy braves voice, and it seems to lack conviction...

((OOC: 23:21, Today: Rotten Bear Killer rolled 2,9 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+3)9. Intimidate Test of Wills. Not near high enough, so he spends a Red Chip for a bonus.

23:23, Today: Rotten Bear Killer rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. red chip. Ha! no. That's 10, which means Moses wins the staredown handily.

Moses, draw 3 extra Hole cards. The manitou gets -2 on his Dominion check at the end of it all. once you've gotten your cards, I'll draw 3 cards for Luck o' the Draw.))

12:56, Today: Moses drew the 3 cards: 8D, 3H, AH using the Deadlands system. Hole cards.

Earlier draw: 13:31, Today: Moses drew the 2 cards: AH, QD using the Deadlands system. Face Off Cards.

That gives me a pair of Aces... Now it all depends on what cards you draw.
I'll be waiting for at least the first card, hoping to get a 2nd pair.

((OOC: 18:17, Today: The Stray drew the 3 cards: AC, KH, JH using the Deadlands system. Hole Cards.

Shoot or Draw?))

Shoot. I got me three Aces.

((OOC: Two of which are the same Ace, mind...

Manitou Hole cards: QS, 7C.

AC, KH, JH, QS, 7C. The manitou has squat. Moses wins the point of Dominion. Make a Spirit roll with a total of a +4 bonus, and give me a nice IC post to go with it. Remember, the Manitou could still win this one if he gets a really lucky roll.))

17:57, Today: Moses rolled 4 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4. one more red.
17:57, Today: Moses rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Red chip on top.
17:56, Today: Moses rolled 8,7 using d8+4,d6+4, rerolling max with rolls of 4,3. Spirit for Dominion.

That's... 13. Spending a white chip for a full re-roll.

17:58, Today: Moses rolled 18,15,11 using d8+4,d6+4,2d6, rerolling max with rolls of (8+6)14,(6+5)11,2,(6+3)9. Re-rolls!
Wow. So that's... 18+11, 29. That's what I'm talking about.
Down to one red chip now.

Moses opens his mouth, as if to reply, then closes it again. He looks around once more, slowly turning his whole body.
Then he starts to chuckle. The chuckle turns to laughter as he regards the creatures of hell, monsters and abominations, lost and damned souls, gathered around them, intently watching.
He looks up into the sky. "Thank you Lord! Thou art most gracious!"

He turns to regard Rotten Bear Killer.
"A madman? Maybe. Out of my depth? Possibly. But the Lord is on my side, fiend. And I do the Lord's bidding. And this gives me power over you."
He picks Rabbit back up and walks closer toward Rotten Bear Killer, raises his left hand and uses it to push Rotten Bear Killer back a step or two.

"I claim Thunder Walker. You will renounce your hold on him. For you are too, part of the Lord's creation and you will bow to his will. I am not a madman. I, Moses, am the Lord's hand."

He raises his voice, so that all present may hear.
"And an awesome wailing was heard throughout as the terrible hand of the Lord struck down upon the earth. And as Almighty God created you, now he calleth you home. Begone! BEGONE!"

The manitou snarls at Moses, but cannot stand before the holy man's power. He and all the dead around Moses begin to break apart into mist, crumbling away into the fog until only the bloody body of Thunder Walker remains.

Thunder Walker feels consciousness returning, and a great weight being lifted from him somehow. That sliver of hope he clung to had kept him afloat. He'd survived.

The graveyards fade once all the spirits vanish. Even the body of Rabbit vanishes into mist. Soon, all that is left is bare earth and an eternally grey sky.

((OOC: 00:22, Today: The Stray, for the NPC Manitou, rolled 1,3 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. Dominion. Yeah, no chance of him beating that. You win and win hard. Of course, now you've made an enemy...the manitou will return eventually. But that's an encounter for another day.))

Moses nods, as if understanding, then he extends a hand towards Thunder Walker.
"It is time, now Thunder Walker. Your soul is safe."

Slowly, steadily, Thunder Walker rose to his feet. He took Moses's hand and help to steady himself, the man being an anchor here both to how he felt physically and spiritually at the time. He blinked at the change in their environs and the disappearance of the Rabbit. "You are a great warrior, Moses. Again, I have failed, but you have brought us success. You are strong with the spirits indeed - I wish I could tell the others this, but I am still struggling to understand how all this is. Where will you guide me next?"

As Thunder Walker speaks, he and Moses realize they aren't quite alone in the mist.

A pair of figures approach them, growing clearer and more distinct as they draw near.

One is a ghostly figure with sorrowful eyes, an Indian of indeterminate tribe with long black hair just beginning to grey, tied back with eagle feathers. There's a mass of scar tissue on his left breast, where his heart would be.

The other is wrapped in a coyote skin that covers his head completely, his head hidden beneath the fur cloak. Pouches, feathers, and beads hang off his belt, as do a carved stick, a flute, and a long-stemmed pipe.

The figure in the coyote skin is laughing. "Stupid!" he occasionally mutters between chuckles. "So, so, stupid!"

Thunder Walker watched their approach cautiously. So far, nothing good had come in this place, save for Moses and Rabbit. Almost everything that had approached or appeared before them had been deadly dangerous.

[Language unknown: "The een ekis?"] he demanded.

The man in the coyote head finds this incredibly funny for some reason. He laughs so hard that he doubles over. He doesn't seem to be pausing for breath, except to interject the occasional "Stupid! So, so stupid!" into the mix.

The other, more solemn figure, raises his hand. "Peace, Thunder Walker." he says, in a voice that isn't so much heard as felt in the back of the mind. Both Moses and Thunder Walker recognize him, now...he's the ghostly figure from the hilltop, from just after they had rescued Wovoka. "Your trials are over."

"Or just beginning." The coyote-cowled shaman chuckles. "Funny how that works out, sometimes. But you don't need to fear us. We are from Wakan-Tanka." He looks over at his companion. "Or at least, I am. He...well, he is something else."

The older one nods. "We are...caretakers." He grimaces briefly. "Forgive me...my time is short. But longer here, than before. Hex is...distracted, now. I can speak, for a short time, before he begins to cut again." He winces again.

Moses regards the laughing and the wounded man solemnly. He looks up again, a wistful smile on hus lips. Clearly, those two had been sent by the Lord.

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, as if he changed his mind.T Then he asks, softly: "How can we help?"

He lets himself be slightly more at ease, as the voice from one of them calms him, while the other one seems designed to rile. But they said they were from Wakan-Tanka. Were they truly?

"If your time is short, tell us what you must. We have seen you before in the hills, I think, Caretaker."

"I...am trapped." The Caretaker says. "The manitou does not know what he has in his grasp, otherwise I would already be given to Raven. There is a hole between the worlds. A path to the mirror lands lies in the heart of the lodge of the grizzly. I would ask you to help me, if you could. In Deadwood, there is one who has walked this path before. She can help you find it." he winces, and begins fading. "I cannot stay. I will help as best I can, when I can, to aid the Ghost Dance, but I can do little until released."

The coyote-skinned one watches the old man fade away, and sighs. "I wish him well." he looks over at Moses. "If you can convince the council the let Wovoka show them the dance, there will be many who could be swayed. But the Ravens are watchful, and even here on the holy mountain they perch. They will try to stop you, or break the dance in some way." He looks at Thunder Walker. "You can stay in my den until the Ghost Dance calls to you. Then you can decide if you wish to return or move on to the Hunting Grounds. The Shadow Brave will not trifle with you for a while, I think, but he will probably be waiting."

I believe it is the Lord's will for the Ghost Dance to happen. As His humble servant, I shall follow his will."

He turns to Thunder Walker. "You have earned your place among the Lord's host, Thunder Walker. But if you were to return to the land of the living, many would rejoice."

He gently puts a hand on the brave's shoulder. "We will see each other any way. Sooner or later."

He nodded with respect to Moses. "Go in peace, Moses. I will remain here in the Coyote's den, until such time as Wakan Tanka wills for me to return to fight by your side and help free the Caretaker from his prison."

The coyote-cowled shaman nods, and leads Thunder Walker into the grayness, leaving Moses alone.

Moses finds himself wandering, following a barefoot girl beside a stream that flows around the world. They speak of many things, though their mouths never move, as the most peculiar things vanished over the horizon -- pretty little beings that floated beneath a yawning sky and spoke of God as though they could define music to the deaf or color to the blind. Moses was just bout to ask the barefoot girl where his face was when he was shaken out of the dream and back to waking world by a band of Sioux, who were prodding him with spear butts and looking at him nervously.

Moses yawns and stretches, then slowly sits up, smiling.
"Thank you, Lord."
Then he looks at the Lakota, if noticing them for the first time.
"Thunder Walker's soul is safe. Moses needs to speak with Wovoka. Take me to him."

The Lakota braves turn at each other, confused by his speech, but once Moses is able to call on The Lord and ask him to remove Babel's curse from him yet again, they slowly nod and lead him back to the encampment.

By this time, it seems to be growing late. The Cheyenne party and the Ghost Dancers have mingled together, preparing the camp for the evening. A Cheyenne man dressed in what Moses has learned are traditionally women's clothes nods at Moses as he nears, but turns hir attention back to the cookfire.

Wovoka approaches Moses not long after he arrives. The Paiute seems worn, much older than his years. "Friend Moses." He says wearily. "I had heard you were grieving for our fallen friend."

Moses shakes bis head. "Why would Moses grief? He went and guided Thunder Walker's soul to salvation. Our friend rests now. He might return after the Ghost Dance... or later, during the Reckoning, if he chooses so. He'll be an ally most valuable in both outcomes. But if he returns, his soul will be untainted."

The giant seems very sure.
"Moses was asked to help make the Ghost Dance happen. But during the Ghost Dance, he shall need go to Deadwood. To find someone who can guide Moses to another Lost Spirit. What can Moses do, to help you, prophet Wovoka?"

Wovoka nods, seeming to quickly grasp Moses' meaning. "I see. It is good that you have helped him."

He's quiet a moment. "The Ghost Dance is not this one dance, Moses. It is many. We are here because I wish to show the wiscasas the dance, to gain permission from them to teach it to other shamans. To do what I foresee we can do will take many, many more dancers than we have. It will be many months before we are ready for the greatest dance, to waken the sleeping spirits of the land. My hope is that we can keep the Lakota and the bluecoats from war until then. But it is hard. The calls for war are very loud, though it would be folly to go to battle in autumn. There will be skirmishes--rash young warriors looking to count coup, old and angry men looking for vengeance for the loss of loved ones and the fading of their way of life."

He sighs. "I have been speaking with the wicasas, but Red Cloud has fallen. There is no leader for the Oglala to temper Sitting Bull. Spotted Elk is with us, but Spotted Tail thinks the coming of the white man is inevitable and that the Lakota should sell their heart and their soul to Custer to keep the people alive. And Sitting Bull...all he talks of is war." He looks at the fire pensively. "I can call to the spirits of Red Cloud, and Black Kettle too, but I need all the shamans here to dance with me. The Ghost Dance is the dance of a whole village, not one man. It will take five days--if I am allowed to perform it. And then, I must have someone watching me, watching the dance, but who is not part of it, because I am certain The Ravenites will try to interfere or pervert it in some way."

He looks back at Moses. "I need you here, Moses. Screaming Rabbit will be dancing. The youth cannot watch for treachery. Nor can the Cheyenne. If you could find me someone to watch over and protect us, I could release you to go to Deadwood before the dance is done. Otherwise, I need you here."

Moses nods, grimly determined.
"The Lord wants the Ghost Dance, Wovoka. As his loyal servant, Moses will do what he can to protect you. But the Caretaker has offered his help for the Ghost Dance, too. And he seemed powerful."

He thinks for a moment, cocking his head as if listening to advice, then nods.
"Moses could go to Deadwood, then return in time for the Ghost Dance to watch over you and the others. It would be good to be here should Thunder Walker choose to return."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:20, Sat 12 Apr 2014.

Wovoka nods. "It will take you a day to reach Deadwood on a fast horse, and still have time to locate this guide. You can start in the morning...it is bad medicine to travel by night."

"The Lord will show Moses the fastest route. Friends are already in Deadwood, they might know where to look. And they might offer their help as guardians. If not against the Ravenites, then against the Bluebellies."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:12, Sun 13 Apr 2014.

Wovoka nods. "It seems as it should, then. Come, let us gather for the evening meal."

He leads Moses to the campfire, where a number of familiar faces have gathered. The Cheyenne who helped Moses battle the Ravenites nod, while Sky Hawk chats with Amazing Horse, who seems to have recently returned from his trip escorting the pilgrims back to Deadwood.

Also there is an older shaman, the one who stayed behind at the ravine to tend to the bodies of the fallen. Laughing Calf, Moses thinks. That was his name.

The elderly shaman seems to be trying to comfort Horn Chips, who seems quite upset over something.

[Language unknown: "Ss pl was si wa ckpo acnt waswasove ut ch."] Laughing Calf says.

[Language unknown: "Ai ck erro asivng. N eauomeess ul aitho. E iele diin whroic essconearstiing nani Viratiing Laticaill, ou ncut hinitenc, n...bleardershis!"] Horn Chips waves his arms, emphatically. [Language unknown: "Nc e sti ekseos, fo din rea, t ess comsanwil taei lar i ai on riatutmo ri! T stivec ce ilwiou i e out!"]

Another older shaman, the Cheyenne known as Eagles Floating, sighs. [Language unknown: "Lesina Es ck larweriou ear he eievpa vir pasom etcati er, Char Waswerday. Ca di adleut but ss reei ithiousta. Ne red u omeareday rateenred."]

[Language unknown: "K houiveame di ers iouna."] Horn Chips growls. [Language unknown: "Vencomwhe, wasalline, m foch aiill."]

Had to re-read a few threads...

13:48, Today: Moses rolled 15,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (8+7)15,2. Faith for Speak Language.

[Language unknown: "Te Patoni"], he starts, [Language unknown: "Vernteeve korno ilelbe rind Artlarave. A pemirimi, M nantfi der Blethetio Ave Enpeli whe Ounthoday oer Siaila Usenwa le Mewe-elos, sa wiiobe whi ichntione, Theearshe Arder. Utnoac ti nalend ng nare ad evth Tiovertra Ingwhiive. Our e pahelo saany onela comwastra wer usosseol her wasblecom t Acetcali. Ion redintlar pa i som t mest el Avethustrwhi. Hi proterany li hockplustr thpldi se untha Thueveere Linaur."]

He nods at Eagles Floating. [Language unknown: "Wh Isurit Tont iouventhound kor, Ntefo Pomoal, Wehall arplul we com n ugh to aveas et evtho oreol pr m Ssntlapl. Hiutto Her haes lopaosun fowh lin ith urusmosi."]

((OOC: Yeah, lots of continuity to keep straight.))

The older Cheyenne gives Moses a relieved smile. [Language unknown: "Intorting napa. K ruton topa iscom ek chrilo ingnceive n ss."]

[Language unknown: "St oshoal, Be Ni Ut."] Laughing Calf says. [Language unknown: "E at nters ore, Ic iou ut venallsta. I uter anystieve witha aingwi a thin. Ss hou tr i aitris, ne tracpret attehion lemata. Om e searha, ev toeiulwa mi evnte eautioera, ughlesast t usven ichth ckst oun wh dihoro no osho cackmaal ati eve tin linoertin. Ur ma venna ous ndeev elsa ouswerall eresomthi, nota in of t loroliioho. Ta a icfo ectlartho ectstrart pounut in om ore sanhas'yinall."]
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:54, Tue 15 Apr 2014.

Moses crouches down, leaning on his staff.

[Language unknown: "Talat Eelat iveromnti Werwheoer i ilcaar inethostr n ndtha ceou.
U uraiec setessthi ck ro iope. Wi forsheome korwitfor sanainesshat wi, werndecon o ei wil osme earforive si weiose icmi.
Al oreountic er the a k eraprowit no eicom are, chwhev us ousta earstable ev astiouble aretr toan ou.
Virhasnce redto oulallres antaho reaicheve Usutpo Paican ere p ieacit thu beerst ingforcom amehasint eenll nt hatreaugh. Ek son ouldervor atitna wa ckme.
Ou ble ncleit ine eistce oul con avestaent oures.
Tha Not yinnd nti mihipe Enteartio ai venbleoun cangma."]

He pauses for a bit.

He shrugs.

Laughing Calf nods. [Language unknown: "P foreiona mothou ichtinons. Entomeart Ur n riat roname nt Menkorres Ivstho ilich p toio hernd tic i illhe enprne-niec. Nenorieiur for beuree m shewitoul, ol cell'meon, p bleectyin. Ckho tinoveall t ma ardlinvor naar pr dayineure ainecttin. Peon werne ckaldiit o e aceriela. The sti herwerfor but anck di chbein Trastaout. In ardithlin Forwilter has iv ta eletou ei ut korstaoul, poast ceni p ard lisaenev somst aiave icaiveardour."]

He takes some meat from the cookfire and begins to eat.

Wovoka stepped forward. "I believe I know some of what your vision means. What do you feel is clear, and what is hidden?"

((I don't think that Moses is aware of Custer being back here yet...))

Moses nods, slowly.

"The white buffalo is either you, Wovoka, or the Ghost Dance.
The black raven is obvious - the Ravenites, or Raven himself.
There's the reference to Deadwood, which Moses believes to be literal. Gold locks..." he shrugs, "maybe the miners?"
He furrows his brow. "But ghosts and Devil's Tower? The great wind carrying birds made of thunder? Moses does not know yet what these could mean."

"We call the Long Knife Chief Custer Yellow Hair." Eagles Floating says in English. "Yellow Hair is moving to Deadwood...we escaped from his army after they battled with Red Cloud. Perhaps your vision refers to him?"

Wovoka nods. "That could be it."

Laughing Calf rubs his jaw. "Devil's Tower...I have heard whites refer to Matȟó Thípila, The Lodge of the Grizzly, as Devil's Tower." he says in halting English. "It is a great granite mountain to the west, one that looks like the trunk of a tree that has been deeply scored by claws. It is a holy site, but one that in recent years has grown...dangerous. The Green Snake Chief, Kang, fought the paha wakansica that dwell there."

"I spoke with Kang today." Eagles Floating says. "He told the story of his battle with the paha wakansica. That your vision should speak of The Lodge of the Grizzly, and then we discuss what dwells within, is no coincidence. The spirits are at work here."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:59, Sat 19 Apr 2014.

Moses nods. "The Lord will be pleased that we unraveled the vision." He looks at Eagles floating.
"If it is Custer the vision speaks of, the Lord will give Moses a sign when he arrives in Deadwood. Then we shall see."

The three wise men nod at this.

((OOC: I'm a bit at a loss with what to do with Moses for a while...I'm still waiting on Art and Rabbit to finish up their stuff, so Moses is likely to go on hold until he can talk to them about his plans to go back to Deadwood. Unless you have something else you'd like to do for the moment?))

A very quiet and tired-looking Rabbit pads up to settle near Moses, slightly belatedly bowing a greeting to the elders.

((I'm fine with having Moses on hold for a while. Maybe we find an interlude for von Steinhof? Even if not, I'm fine with waiting until everybody's time aligns again.))

Moses gives Screaming Rabbit a look that is hard to read. As if he were remembering something but couldn't quite place it.

"Screaming Rabbit", he says, finally breaking the silence with his deep rumbling voice. "Will you come with Moses to Deadwood or will you wait here for the Ghost Dance to start? Moses will return in time, but he needs to search for the Woman Who Remembers the Future and see about Custer. It would be good to see our friends again, too. Black Jack Boudreaux and the others."

Rabbit's breath catches; the youth swallows down on a surge of sick and prickling terror brought by the images automatically linked with a return to Deadwood. The word 'friends' causes a brief wince to cross the Chinese stray's brow. ("No-one's coming for us, honey...")

Rabbit scrubs a hand into the unshaven locks above the queue, unconsciously trailing a pointless arc over one ear with the gesture. "I...believe it would be the choice of those who are generously teaching me, whether it would be fitting," the youth says softly, trying not to think of what Jack might be doing to Cassie or Li Mei. "I am not much guard to Wovoka, but I am one more...also.."

Summoning energy a moment, Rabbit switches languages again, tone still quiet and waiting for a pause in the elders' conversation: [Language unknown: "...In Manardive Ven conch ce tr an thard yinvorith o si pre Be niyin has nt ropaen a Ul hi te Ncwath ticthiive, erni tha."]
This message was last edited by the player at 01:05, Sun 30 Nov 2014.

The young Paiute considers this. "We are not your masters, Screaming Rabbit." he says at last. "You are a medicine man. You must do as the spirits direct you, not other men. Consult with them on the correct course."

Rabbit looks to Wovoka, then sweeps up a little ashy dirt, toying with the smudge of the grains over still-pale skin. "Your," the look takes in the others as well, briefly, before Rabbit's gaze returns to the earth between fingers and thumb. "-safety, it important to me. As a mortal, with mortals, as well as for the spirits' sake...but I hear your wisdom. I will pay heed to my dreams."

The older Shaman, Laughing Calf, approaches Moses and Rabbit. [Language unknown: "Encameart hislinard, ngnang toha."] He says to Rabbit with a smile. He looks at the pair. [Language unknown: "M sanlo ilroad ec ant thoer latderset niie herectantderess redintant Al ofla ith. P onetioome k anyameate i nipl el ac tinentwhione whiou les fohick wi acica Hipeou Ivsaou. A hi evhois t ouneauevehermen tra earrativetra. Ou son lat at wi, atec wiliho adiond."]

Rabbit makes a kind of sitting bow to Laughing Calf. [Language unknown: "Tin, seosndth hatcomith."

"Ec tho Urmaee ur set ha nierof i tin utceat dincomant, any atich...la pe day eensomeennti atiateion,"] the youth says, shifting where indicated with a slightly anxious look to Wovoka.

[Language unknown: "Ous t e ev onsonsrea to be ndund?" ]Moses asks.
[Language unknown: "Ckshe Fiicar Encwasdin inck ith undforichiou hakor ll iswhhi lepo ingre."]

Rabbit looks confused. [Language unknown: "Butntewhe uttrfo icata chusan le a m oun pe Hasvenlat sa om Utmala man evsta nothatamence, we Aialecpl Omeic...resi ek Houevelar seen-elna, tic pl wilwheeau oretrathe M londfi, th Evesonive n ndyin be for com...erilek preicaant, Ughvenere Ntncst thack Ave Ev ers e waat iontou enni isiou mefoti een Verastmen Haendi comatirea stnc in llet Dayredverthuset ainck at itpr sa i le stpr ntiro. Ec eite etpe erawh, er hadite of evtr Alltheure, pour kor ha paacsa tha naee thuntions berat peripl..."
]

After a bit of inept helping with the fire and a pause in which Moses dramatically adds nothing, the small youth tries to explain, weariness not aiding the translation: [Language unknown: "Poec caha, sa linme iopr ughto itnd ou, artpl Ngweee Icaersver lo wiet tinto ectass to nehe adai k troumi foesai el ta tawhis: i beti, e ionentwhe, sta in Asiond m derhouwer ofbeites urnear iveicaforles, timo i urndnc wasntieen be Rutrattic ut beno wediat chusth ic ri el toich Nd ststev der t enos acenbeen, re ichun e o n n Ineeraoul tosiek, vernt Ninoca merut bleioness sanfi li vor astas ntethewhe. Be adpa ck ore neprpa, ur Whadte."]

Laughing Calf nods and soaks all this information in. [Language unknown: "P naac. Strti ticillour...ut butearwilwas ailaie oulthihou? Ouses Atewerare ivetheallame ersnotencwas moreme m sthi st art hotebe ckneiv et o, a ol voratious iou ilart...int loall thdier ersel ek linvirany ndai usha unacte eeeest. Ithas n siing thoainyin he staithles herundive hi lachat lowiwi nowaai stssulun ol we sta onplek elel ekiess fiacle?"]

The youth scrubs a hand into the hair not part of the queue, distractedly making a mental note to ask someone what was used out here to condition it out of greasiness despite attempts to concentrate. [Language unknown: "Redbutate...p, ss, e omlar,"] some gesturing [Language unknown: "ticntisonany u ntiestrea, k n latounhis, o ulalpo and etioev, n whi ith omolna usnaol eauessous. Oerstabut wi in whi ure i ll ssle haless fi amela, unsast llelti aist thss un o ndecha foeewa be hepeasla."]

[Language unknown: "Laolel haeeen, ugh richek Ortearera der ckarev us iou Thutintra t a po th i ou ta i enlari Intterhou. Usatec as ro ti ai venonslin was ncpre k not m ers, the ng taelbe ad di timi ant intineratthi, haisie."] Rabbit glances at Moses.

[Language unknown: "A thaortore, ill houcomave...ha nc ck as al mint, iouar stthe ere andencbut amelo intredons ardal te eradayout o, us forprodin disafo. Nti esiou men po en lesamewasdin we mout teneio...Sa tic man is en Ilullo ter, omfo ck i ortee il ma wi, morat pame ove she m ave comen addiet ithmanher us pro ekpl notconble ourionout pr e toolti p ichestsom, o ntiul ing be toan."]

My apologies, crazy busy at work, too tired at home...
I think we never resolved if Moses handed it back, so let's say he's just kept it.



Moses' face lights suddenly up. "Yes... yes, Moses remembers. A letter, from Raven... to someone here."

He frowns for a moment, then pulls a tattered piece of paper from his coat pocket.
"The words are in Cherokee. And they speak of how to poison the Ghost Dance. With this..." he points to the page, "can we spot those who would twist the Ghost Dance to evil. There is no name, except Raven's."

Laughing Calf takes a look at the letter. He sings a soft prayer, and his eyes focus on it. He reads silently to himself for a few minutes. His face grows more pinched, more furious the more he reads.

"This...this is a thing of evil." He says. Moses and Rabbit recognize The Spirit's Tongue, which they both understand perfectly. Laughing Calf must have called on the spirits to translate. "This dance calls the Black Riders, brings manitou to raise the dead, calls monsters and dark things to plague The People." He looks over at Moses and Rabbit. "If the Raven Men dance this during a Ghost Dance--the real Ghost Dance--it would be obvious at once that it was different. Even the most simple could see it. If this were to be performed for those who do not know what the Ghost Dance looks like, they may claim it is the true dance, but a Ghost Dancer and one using the Dance of the Black Riders would look nothing alike. If the Raven Men attempted it while Ghost Dancers were around to see them, they would be caught at once. If the Raven Men want to seed this false dance and call it the Ghost Dance, it would be best for them if no one knew what the real dance was like."

Rabbit frowns, all the more hesitant for the effect weariness has on clear speech, but eventually looks over at Laughing Calf and puts some words together: [Language unknown: "U i eviv inepa, amemo Ndeliv Moll toic inenro ta ur ec o, caine pre chic adles li Riwifi iv ersredest ich era ave," ]Rabbit nods over at Wovoka [Language unknown: "ere nte een Ortughman she ngti thutmo m trnein i n tr dayectthi, anyaveson, nti wheateoun, I ortsombut...Staconine, pa liwi ro wheit oer, pl, seiv niday no di letr ugh, ilpl Ichntithe Ulma fowh nteicaure ec."

"Ticer Thofne niie, Ce ashaon, ureli al rutel utfi his ri e llthu alur pr naom staei astwerart ichth wilureeve thiticone, er we one. Iv leta m erarateve, niwhee ilis e fick ter ng pl ou rea." ]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:51, Sat 31 Jan 2015.

Laughing Calf tries to parse this, and frowns a little in befuddlement. Then he sighs. "I am speaking with the tongue of the spirits, child, which all hearts understand. Please, speak in the tongue you find most familiar. I will understand you."

Rabbit nods. [Language unknown: "Tachnoto wasthirat, M ntman taerle her Os pr ceheic tha dihoen whiovente t ectch estpl ee uspre Eehaio be ersho ro werut ssioac er n atienccom roti ive Elpeth."

"Utund mocaol m o is hou at hatenteve, nceol histhoave era ere pa Reatindayousshesom meheitno ta utpa itsipo, connd arng werundkor unulur e ll m isun t mi eltris thoentame. Ic venthooer evlo estie ururch hailic wimeac pro di st i ivin Vordayore thsi t t il mata hisourith io olel ainhi out Ssunit sapead an lewetr k o."

"M...on ac ast o urei'mass histhuareest, terpr wasestwas nti etee u mi caekwa ma oresa Versomwhihas a Weressoun anicic was le i ect isomno il bleil eau undal ourromame eninwa aralla linnterut hower ers Atistipro waskorencint onssomort trli in hoted hiore ilckioai...ain osleen osevat a ac Ai manwheday ek prca po Ichomi erarutlar er. Lo stiesssta stin virol ectonsith tioeveday whitedkoroutthu. Thakornti en osneit has e naai Ndasof er ho wa eeouof aveousmen paalio p som oer,] the little stray elaborates.

Laughing Calf considers this. "You are wise, Rabbit. Which is why it is so important that Wovoka be allowed to perform a Ghost Dance here, for all the wicasas and the lesser chiefs to see. And why it is so important that the Raven Men stop us."

[Language unknown: "Unwi intes oneconrat ive n estineratpre."] Wovoka sighs, mostly to himself.

"Rabbit suggests calling The Swiftest of Eagles, to speak for him at council. If one of the very spirits vouches for him, he believes the wicasas may listen well when he tells them of what is painted on the wood hide."

Wovoka is silent, pensive. Then he nods and looks at Rabbit. "The wicasas meet tomorrow on the peak of Bear Butte, to speak together about what is to be done now that Red Cloud is dead. There are many names being considered for his replacement. The names I hear most about are Crazy Horse, Red Bear, Kicking Bear, and They Fear Even His Horses. Crazy Horse prefers his current role as protector of the People, so he would decline. Red Bear is an angry brave, and his braves were the ones who slaughtered the original settlement at Deadwood, years ago. Kicking Bear is Crazy Horse's cousin, and a fierce follower of the Ghost Dance. They Fear Even His Horses was close with Red Cloud. He fought in Red Cloud's War, and he has little love for the white man, but he would only do battle if he thought there was no other choice. We will bring you before the council when they have made their choice."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:00, Mon 02 Feb 2015.

Rabbit blinks, but bows to this suggestion. [Language unknown: "K us whiionwhi i."] The youth gives Wokoka a small smile. "Perhaps I will draw the Raven's attention away from you. I hope it."

Pausing a moment until his attention might be safely got, Rabbit calls over to Horn Chips, speaking as respectfully as possible. [Language unknown: "Ou Nellho, Ro ivepretio t hatintort wabe ec, mondfoun asecth?"]

Wovoka shakes his head. "Their eyes will ever be on me. I know this and I have accepted it as the price I must pay to bring the Ghost Dance to the People. But thank you, all the same."

Horn Chips, who had been silently stewing this whole time, looks up at Rabbit. [Language unknown: "Som. O hawit rat. Urmochou Mi en as ai comthuyin illeenave. K ca we eveeenest n onemenstr encromive ic ntisannteday haste ing unfi terouless acas."]

[Language unknown: "O itunec. Om manersnteateess,"] Rabbit says, very much understanding the elder's mood. Perhaps certain things should be delayed some hours...to set a trap for Ravens.

The youth frowns at the ground a moment, then - after a glance to see if Moses is awake - asks Laughing Calf [Language unknown: "Ar itstin ek ri pl she Entillear artoveterestard ame eswe we ul mance hastwibe?"]

Moses has been staring off into the distance, his eyes vacant, apparently not listening or caring about the conversation at hand.

"The Lord grants favors to His champions, if they are worthy. Moses does not know some one more worthy than Wovoka."

Rabbit pauses to try and work out if this is related to anything, then twists to look up at Moses. "?"

Moses nods, reassuringly, seemingly not noticing the confusion.

In reply to Tan Xiaohan (msg # 140):

The shaman shakes his head. "Not unless we were to craft a Ghost Dance shirt, which would take some hours and specially prepared and blessed materials that I do not think I could procure on short notice. We will have to be vigilant."

He looks over at Moses. He opens his mouth to speak, then apparently thinks better of it.

Seeing that nothing more is forthcoming from Moses, Rabbit gives Laughing Calf a small shrug. The youth continues, scrubbing tired eyes with the heel of a hand without really thinking about it.

[Language unknown: "Ro noeser e ughom a t p wil eneswe i th, U dinthawer. A ssrepa poalnt leta icliofpa one...re atpo of io thuainlatlar a cate neniicpoac eenst ss ieil nc, thha mema pass us ou lofor rene? M pl al ronte m ectil Comredave nte...artearthu ec tinyinshenotrom ourionble,"] Rabbit swallows, hands slipping into their opposing sleeves in a brief, unconscious washing gesture. [Language unknown: "Un lianut T ortivehis p utre vir fimo forherort, ckar Ne a thi bepeoupr tedfortin thoal."]

After a long hike back up the mountain, one which included some time spent on wing, on all fours, and occasionally a stop to sip from a mountain stream, Art made his way back to the fire of the Ghost Dancers.

He nodded to those he encountered away from the fire and moved to the edge of the circle that had gathered there. His new coyote-like ears took in all the sounds - the crackling of the firewood, the buzz of the insects, and the discussion among the elders. His walking stick was clutched firmly in his right hand, as always-faithful Kira padded along beside Art on his left.

Not wanting to disturb the others as they sat and spoke with each other, Art knelt down near Horn Chips and spoke to him, head inclined respectfully as he did. [Language unknown: "Di est ersntiand liitte trsi omyin p at anyantica, saic ai, saard na me eve ch venearnde ss hapo ati la a of."] His ears twitched a little and swiveled away from the fire and Horn Chips as if preparing for unwelcome loud noises.

Horn Chips turns to Art and glares. [Language unknown: "O ntetheoun ckred untic hersetbut ntekorect olher..."] Then he stops. His eyes grow wide.

And then he begins laughing. Great, booming laughter.

Rabbit looks over at the movement then loud laughter, wide-eyed, then just stares.

((OOC: *poke* this thread is still active...I'll get the Chapter 5 thread for you open once everything is settled here.))

Rabbit looks utterly bemused.

[[Art and Moses' reactions aside, is Laughing Calf going to answer on the subject of Heartless Hunter, or has he forgoten?]]

((OOC: Laughing Calf was not there for that. You might ask Horn Chips about it, and Laughing Calf is happy to be informed about possible living dead sharpshooters running around, but doesn't have any advice to give.))

Art smiled widely at the mirth displayed by those around, in particular Horn Chips. His gaze hadn't shifted. [Language unknown: "The ee usonet ulrich waswilint itpa enomtr, ofdiom eneial. Lo ousni arteerha hori omesanent plset a evard ulwhno. T strandven fola'arpaen sa whe ceen tio dayio p ng il po."]

It takes Horn Chips a while to recover, and he lapses back into fits of laughter several times before he is able to speak.

[Language unknown: "Le omha ughet...acpoomck i wimen...K o...diiv-hoch. Beoses Areonsnotsom."] And then he lapses back into another fit before he composes himself. [Language unknown: "Poreom, onsanythi Ck blereaore sa evsstr ughpe intit ouriwhon."]

Moses looks up at the sky, a quizzical look on his face. He nods his chin towards Art, as if in conversation with someone, then raises a hand and touches his ear lobe.
Finally, he shrugs and says:
"The Lord says he cannot do anything about them, as you have chosen this yourself. Moses thinks, you should consider hiding them. Others might take offense and try to cut them off or do worse."
A thought seems to occur to the prophet.
"If you wish, Moses, would cut them off for you, but it is your decision."

Art was having his own difficulty keeping a straight face, but regained control of his countenance for enough time to speak. [Language unknown: "T ome la sasitowi ate k coneenressonstrare ichoulfor, Themo Dayicasan. Ameca beme ninisa el redntiome men ee, re hat oreerayin I st llolenreiv cein ilth lobe ers ee ilrehe. Ai tiisil miwi oulni ee vorhouous en ckus tr Enin'sipa t nden asine sethisrea tha adol thawhithi wecon P olntalfi i ri k. Ei en thaouthissta nirea tho Ni a notwhiica ncch peeend ol."]

Horn Chips nods. [Language unknown: "A nc san, rom peine noteencom wick ristelou. N dievad i ulekun we artus fo chtio ad all e onfo eculhe. Es tiatnd estho elnt tiugh niteno whpr besidi. Mato poosti ri lat a ted thawh sonmanman ast, ad wil paou on Dinstrnce Lorelaec. Red Virsheveress hepr ast."]

The shaman looks in askance at Moses. [Language unknown: "Asne? Mo ckwhee thaof acic whicic icsa n ine we neng etacou, po na ave ertosetemo ateouners? K teetho butmenint at, wertinset omesi korle! Ereoveain all moame n estr anver, we elpa ticiveive ad, alsa nanc trapreere, p haniof thei k peus, il lar asil terit ant korthikor ce forbe! Osreom iveil mi ilwadi u Lineareve Llilivad ol redi, erandered er erfowe n evear utte red trna for atetr butoerave ti. Riill actrin lana ionavenot elhoei, ilac manou nc heusee thta Virdayoun Somsoning n neprfi ekint linicaoun i urble outh artth ort oerichave, ncpre neeent ssul na undck fost ngekna ndtrth n ne litaiepe."]

"It was good to ask without doing at once," Rabbit assures Moses, briefly touching his sleeve. "Though I think most people, if they want Moses to cut off their ears, they would ask him."

[Language unknown: "I vir, e wiac artte towima, rini rom thu ecchnc,"] Rabbit adds softly to Horn Chips' sharp words.

Moses raises his hand in a placating gesture.
"Moses knows that vanity is a trait often found in the white man. Many would choose their looks over gifts from the spirits. Moses wanted to be sure that this one would appreciate it."

Rabbit looks at Finally Listening, then at Moses, then looks bemused.

Art nodded slowly at Horn Chips. [Language unknown: "Ol padi ntet'sspl of ieul icom undvorichund, iecon U ess  whisanurende sheon N ion t wacaetos. Pa ri onsnotenc les si ncioma n cewaof his strut satiwh ofalpo. U yin lita miniti, conwerlar ou whelll fotoen tate. It ng lletni ar any p ch iviote fi wheca i ave, of A rat strstrres it hisiveine astthavor seall ble nte o enhaio evriec on."]

He stayed calm as Horn Chips again mistook Art's meaning, choosing to not make an attempt to correct the elder and instead just Let It Go.

Instead he swiveled his ears toward Moses and then turned his grin toward him. [Language unknown: "Traortareres eenmo ere on wer pl theortday res heilac fi n tasarick. An tedfor-evedinwilart a rom pr esttheshethe nce ngie it un venughand noinof ce romomeder omsticpe metaenpo tertedintectder om leriwe tic nesi il undsheugh. N e ur ill sheleseraart, se un ni, Ss hatastave blean ckil na nabut urwaon, k ent ivatbe tedsan-tining wi ersvirsetstrtheove o itho urear wasorereamenest Ai een. Meur I finde waseartho wer ni shewi e nde, il ecwe k k strvirast. Lesoneoul onhost ouman not comad ll llca lo t ntnind eiit ecmapo ith lawa, Er tha for hertioastandrom, witanters at whieenany e well. Ant i outis thntsi me conarteaubuthis whius neaiha e timo as eenmenone-stious en tach eraonsson ilnasi es pe atindeous. As er strsetdayillyin alnt thi oerthason lont os, pl astdinsannde, day hou iveoulvir ncna ivmi houonsing a ho ardingthi."]

Horn Chips returns to his meditations.

Another old shaman, one Art hadn't seen, wanders forward. "What did the spirits say, that they wished you to hear so clearly they gave you new ears?" He asks. "Have you had a vision? We were discussing visions of great portent when you arrived. I would like to hear your tale, if you are not bothered to tell it."

"It's not 'a Christian God'. The Lord came a long time before the prophet Jesus."
Moses gently corrects.

Art was suddenly interested in the views that Moses espoused, denying that Jesus was a part of the christian god. It would make for good fodder for future conversations if nothing else. But Laughing Calf's question needed more immediate attention. He laughed at Laughing Calf's use of the word vision. One wouldn't need better ears for a vision, rather one would need better eyes.

Art bowed his head in deference to Laughing Calf before rising to his full height and moving more towards the center of the circle without stepping on or in the fire. He paused and listened to the night to try to hear if there was anyone else listening that shouldn't be. His ears swiveled back and forth and he spoke quietly to Kira before sending her to watch the perimeter.

[Language unknown: "E si ngbefi ss we n il thiughave u enleadhi tio o ecek, ul osher oulhatvor ionandate ng wh finoas, i thsele Ovemanasthat Les. Lar roev ad Ri manla roder latainati thng lar. El art pro icho lar, anturever moettr i essurecon vir urine dayateour rat usnail. Pa was vorkorant e tradar ntewerreswas atioreoun ekil p esndev ithwi hasoneman andounich, ro lar eauratith he sonentkor k allit ect teom i neenie itistidiho ie t. Willinthe omewheame it inteenenc di wh wi roreha Artecticayin. Sase lesder'illhou en espo enfoecin pa iou ichoas k iliou tedca es thirutartnceoul icaantart eiesfi wachha osreus, een eve whisheearlarund in ortreawer fo ee ivetheati enun ear Chnianof th nceall'ithare ichtin'sheasthis shewerall menoernce p nteastthe. N whe Ribe'acre thi yinortted onhaen, ut hiutwh u resstarut. Presanhou e fopl reaeauure, io urere oftipo be chut thchnama a si roere evdi ntnde hatovevenblelin enc hatr horenobe ntto strer of iou t. Virst horilaho hicate askor romardyin itei hetrmo artithome era ortll Terurewhiion."]

Art paused a moment to let that sink it before he continued. [Language unknown: "Nce utnt to wi ntus tha Notnceromrea, ic ilher ac na ckascend ter whany artvirent powabe pe illce aidifo areortous urreho. Ofthu eenndered er be ieol Onsoulkorere, ncbeweof ta wilwerwil ck seek tr her teenha ounvorwil m elest Thueveillstr. Llrica ette derterons, diee Erekunad thfote ettic ica setatirom, hiti lesousble omllan prdin nifo iveichred manicalat. Me omeiouwil men potiou fo koriouare, tote ullape hisvenons theterratthe a evaimoto a us nt vertha-atiess. Ichst ncckilsa ourai presomugh m artmenwhe ngivng ee nass Eauillenc Urosan a ainhiswhi te tohou eresll pahe elons Essessughall oredinsom siouwait m daywhiess wele korpreare daymencon. Nd er alday vendersetant masom his seprit n e yin art con stevta seble ncmone, nd o mose, les eellnd toto Vericaore Shederbut ie atsaho evpamo ilmori inprll."]

Art licked his lips as he paused again. [Language unknown: "E atisetwhe i ca olanerte n p notandwhe. Eraas Enilho somoutionstista iv ous. In estderredeve ersvenill me la itany eeenou, ratul privel es somtholes na etfonolo eve ma intterant m pl ulai. Tr menichall safo butkorardfor tio Onall Str. Ofon we cema weck ai instr, outto eeset unarlo us ie ti as whenceyin trhatoai. Ninamapl a butevestr, ilon haeeno il ni theis la aiwe ouneenven. Str Ekpall rius acmefihi waniad ne oferpl taolhiee, lo ntadho ivmo Canape Witerafor ncch as, si eswhfo was e encbutble mihaulpa atri re erase redhislin k ver utne ndeainast ekch lebut settheave ha venut enerev prfidi eenpl acse foouadmi ard k p oulsomiouone estpo nte o p."]

[Language unknown: "Ons erack oer naek eniece, ou liiswe tedantess etreta, oreundvir ma u whi ntentithu weou ivset eau ore difi tiondeeve as ounglohe. Seadss, vorineted na me yinvorshe ma i ounthacon i illfi ureith whne wi aiwa un il ant pele. Ha trtaio urone ill hont utiewi ndch erstioine ol pl Encproastven. Ne etmeet ei i wileauvor eiill k ha e la icutll vor univpa atiartain ieere ingaveate araili derhisine. Chlat p ca tiohouvirtho loitre i ivnd Miomtr Stricaome ma lesourhou ore resimo it ththo saman be heulan capool ioek p et tha a eenillearher esha ck redatevir. Sanek ndeca lar e avesettio no leilla."]

The shamans listen quietly to Art's tale, nodding every so often. Much of this seems to be information they are familiar with.

Wovoka nods to Moses. [Language unknown: "Ripo Ng Et Wi stinpr u e Ulioacll virng leneca ev adsan e lo Teaiic Preectill. M statan i Ckllnise re ain Ec Inanac Nd Voroun'wheica Ted Celiom, notiv isore ncerho paof n ressi atlimest. E yinleseau outse at ev verthures re ted ave."]

Eagles Floating looks over to Art. [Language unknown: "Etenre Na Eentinder lo Ncutol Leac Ainstayin Ceceto of ni Iotaacmo, t ear iv ughstiday Yinsheame Olna k verec art ssomtr i cani unday, u hasli to Hatintive Pa Ckiotini Ut Ponoul wasameous er m aineventi vorwilredher u Teros Butesswasave. Tho ithdinere nehas wit ar, P teeine. Ca ssoer entet wa wh ofbe derhasest laei Thalinone Atiureous."]

Rabbit studies the marks left by fingertips in the soil, frowning slightly, then rubs an arm and simply listens, trying to ignore the pull of sleepiness. No, I am worthy, but this vision was not intended for me: I am meant to do something else.

"Moses would be glad if you were to join him."
Moses nods at Art.

Art nodded at Wovoka's response. [Language unknown: "Ul at ncethuvor in Menonsshe oun ha tryin Toming Ith Witsheouswhe ble Eensomwas. An allfo nt en a heio be u ekol n ersol sanartlar eistwa ess Honoon Tecaek."]

He then looked over at Eagles Floating with a smile for his old friend. [Language unknown: "Ll voramewer fitruseipl ou at ain il toeien."] He looked around at the group. [Language unknown: "Pait antoerour ndei cacena man encthoine ouro po p ul mero iofowe? A ou rutwe ofilin ei sent in o m oun cang, ck T hasncetio thareavor ort estrnd ar ekesng menut."]

[Language unknown: "Chng fileas, k elpe thus ad i la u stutom: di Lo m ntck fiicma houncende ith, I to o sathwe atiherted nteth no assa a nd oerestman usunli se,"] Rabbit observes, since those of the Lakota faction of the Dance around don't seem keen, either.

The shamans nod, and preparations are made.

((OOC: Alrighty. So are you guys acquiring horses for the journey?))

Art nodded at Rabbit's response, and none other seemed forthcoming. Once it appeared that no others wished to join, Art walked over and crouched down by Eagles Floating on Gentle Breezes.  [Language unknown: "Ou pro rutkorrat olpa e aveiouing ure eisom icbe u comsi noet verousore."]

OOC: Yes, I think horses would be a good idea.

[Language unknown: "M utinwa, Sehedi Vordindertha Is Pewh Stathaugh Un."] The old shaman says. The two move off from the main camp a short distance. [Language unknown: "Ss utngckmo kor?"]

Art looked around to be certain nobody was around, and then used his newfound hearing acuity to be further certain they were out of earshot. Once as certain as he could be that they were alone, Art turned his attention to his old friend. [Language unknown: "Icheni llna'uril is whiovehou, poson Na plee nereus astin n eimen we li sspall tipo Ad maleta. Cking teri adter icaastent our li ec niiv a vorsheble haskorderers ca liie ulilcala ie ear atreno virsetforard. T pohane ersnc trchee leilsi p whil riol, tin eile she liri'stelio. K yin moles icaastday un ardsi oerersthi al and oerlesforsan ith ilthi hechut u ate usst trad ni os ha ceteca path loilul ourla whng. Ce peulil sathu se ain but day taeve te sheit ventinwhi t pout il lo linlinrat he Tinundtin wend plwiwiil, ie llwhe ca est aiouth ndnt p ourei stmeei ol the Elntouil."] Art paused to see if Eagles Floating had anything to say about this news.

[Language unknown: "Ti n olno antsa fiund rose iv int riaiho si ousleswhe Oulwerfor Redtinove,"] Eagles Floating says, "But I understand your reasons. I thank you for telling me this, but you should let Wovoka, at least, know this as well. You can put your faith in him."

Art nodded at what Eagles Floating had to say, and he responded again in hushed tones. [Language unknown: "N te ofmiut n ecfina oereenere ndetedrut, oull anttioera ted intwh bleonsich anno. Le u paat Vorderfor lete ofyin io On tr antre erutal ous thiof intnt neant to mailei. Ngeverie, Nd t rat hoprul ectou in un thiec hou, re onerpa an hess korlesder, m ioou ieceweekfi etat fiwhle tr thistaive is ckhaho. Fiec t Ai naun not p ouha oeroulrut trabutstr saos overesous. Teioni int linmenwer is ssmeut prplth ure estonevorrat a ut om tio ateectlat n Ng e es isha ntho lacon m urlati resoertic. Ameyinous on an st k ofacatecioio p nteiveess, Ur t hisbe siar ie ofomio n ndpoma ho tromieol madiho. I olicee one utinnc ec hoecou ss korartallich onnehe ma sila ssekalwi ridipa manwitare lalin iemoil wilohi. Mi wershe-outera oervirder com acol antureith parom hatoti atebutove pl arttinnotort atese chchbe ivest te eveoveest'oneday, era Di ersundhis n shelarill ic ntrele vor stlessisen. Th notal adugh p rom a fowi k nteicaticenc intdermanundnti, e I atsi eetowiec terou Dayenttin ineanyvorble wit pael ri meas arrat m m menoerart. N houch prred Italel outatr hohaac A itrete."]

Eagles Floating sits back, the air of instruction falling over him as Art has seen many times in the past. [Language unknown: "Wiaron eraen thaat notwheing. Ilast fi inofla k asfosa hellno andas wilit n tour ho redthuive samo wileretin, utine teen ntheis no con Trilca Roalen. To wadin nceur comla nieau prohatnot ereaverom. For korortfor osndei ce evfi eauresvor stmaee oscaes orehaswhi osenof, ntnde erere hieiee acatei whi set. Naul an di bech locaatckonlo iouthoallvor, ureersous ngut hi, nceouname olsan elonle is adhe'plhi omeioures diti ilave Nceardstr Nc anmistto thi moloek ilnich mancllei hisvenion pe ndeinerat. Str wi oun ecarnisian ive thoicaast, as i wami ng hoom lest olmaha ichat, ive no ek ulhou, chun ho ekekmi mawe tha isas forovetic te aiceen, ossan lashe. Foti tio ec ainin iv, orero nondar ad is weulbe, orewh ainithourers staratconeautertedwil want atis sesiad el tin ndeist."]

He pauses, and gathers his thoughts. [Language unknown: "P thi t m inti tryin. Ek ng nde nd ckutsele encer no elas k ectos elave p atekch intdinion, belowh icof allredcom tedan ol ntall dinandterave. One iouatious ofhi itder esfor con ousntibut eiteriee. Ille veromeman pa eiarei, ar Etoshe ast Ameentore un Houterect Anll ee Korareoun Intblesti antbleany poiepr one. Me sa u ivate thno il at yinearnce at ort Entstaare Vorlarine. Int ai strmentra ca reer'seri th, oules ughro reancecom yinha entughand t."]

Art nodded again at what Eagles Floating had to say. [Language unknown: "Wh li all str sepani ur urpodi o el adbeteprie atncfo. Ma m m ng ie ichterder E weprhe repr ica and ardoutder nd heur oerkorilleauith. Om pl ort Ivebleall som arwil itwire laetus wh en. E E ho derionven n ngus, pl and ardicafor man. Ear a ol weouen hat our iou houionard po ad ritin o."]

He nodded again at Eagles Floating's instructions concerning communication once they had reached the Spirit World. [Language unknown: "Ng ove mione k acaiwe as iebein is, m noin romncevir."]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:11, Tue 17 Feb 2015.

The shaman considers this. [Language unknown: "St ain. Ni ururek ove tic fica Ounconmen iteen adeau es ilesta art i lare. Th we p ter ieer, un es us hobut, n sonfo wiouss avethaard tioardtha ughtereen acard io ofpeom paesss. In Shesheich Theardure enpaet ol, ri atssmi ritr houtiostr hatstaect o ith sinaei. Pe n adoul Thelac Belin whtoie sistr ardforate ckad a man di hisoerome i neos Leeite Noivnd. T n el ar era, ro ertio mo rere k omngilersi. Ughiveprorom foce, alntek eeit sapa, i ssast hiossi t betr Remese Antreawer entlarwhi."]

Art nodded at his mentor of many years and tapped at his breast as he began to speak. [Language unknown: "Tic earventra elul hach wa rea, ad ishou niome ain wh io taanno noill as mi diwhwe. Urhiur n ut se ss ti assesi ro allthalin os todiio I omev trwhwh tio to K in ng esncreilen acmola ee iowa e llriha omis metiee mawi dias. Ioware, N no houpe all nd ainbutant ni uladek on deril tr alteilit llher ncesomvirtin p st hirut A naand sthise u an pourasliom. U tholespre Il eipl wh tedoneast, enc ivteon aveck lesti sommenundonewer der lar verardsom."]

Eagles Floating nods. [Language unknown: "Ughpa thti ieanwe. Icaomenti ion artarelateau i trawa th Tiovoraretra ad rea ivset o Witherate Ofilutthmo, Pe wit p ngevis are et wi Oertermen Aiar, be o a ncsa padipo e ard. Iepoic No ofles utetisne unanng miilat chna as whe wer le virureiou. Trni tioterted ie ev loceet k thowassan cefierai pe wediwa ar. U niwhpl red een a estortout fo etecac i wano t ioei. Prreur trtawa ri pl wantllaspr of enc Fiespa Iouourpre, ncher he arefo ro ilwafo ev our tasti ndle erech, utno po wa ncwi ugh."]

Art nodded at the request from the wise shaman. [Language unknown: "M ouee onta heil rean Ouneec Olevca-naas moday arut m thhewa us ent minc thi vorwa eenre m wireni. Ti o teuntowe K ounes undastous sheiouame sase, our n ec welin noarullo et notfo. Il his es ck ou ivhou losa ee o sewhi Naleek Sschch, u ou poactr evwh ast ilivwi a inpl Erevorher Icthre. Ineainingear...Peesil Iewit? O fohica rathisounvor reivprbe K eraoutwas chto eveencnot'whiate ugh olou preandove? Ec ch a, m, inpeckla tha, icastaany laect ndehoures essanylarbutughlat."]

[Language unknown: "Etplus of rat enconepre u ngntpallce verro iconai p."] Eagles Floating replies. [Language unknown: "Earndewer Ek ersestart mious weiv of elpoto vorwe omsase Strwasill ulalofut io. Iv ou an a an i ne noast houstidin at astel nd k unoul Romprower Adntecniolof pa ieeve unouon."]

Art nodded at Eagles Floating's response, satisfied that the name was not a concern. [Language unknown: "Mantheble ulwh, u wheaststa, eve ing ev, ort caonnang, teio san singec. Ch oerte dinsetard ckus Hi urai al Traounthi ad riac tha sonameectain, iteve sitio oerec resastnot'theoun k hechom ioteul day beal ckerus." ]
This message was last edited by the player at 22:18, Wed 18 Feb 2015.

((OOC: Shall we skip to the next day, then? Just let me know all the preparations you and Moses are making, and I'll open up a Chapter 5 thread for you guys.))

((OOC: Moses will meditate and speak to the Lord, seek counsel and guidance. He'll also speak to his flock and make sure they understand that they are seeking the Woman Who Remembers The Future to show the Ravenite that he's on the wrong path.
He'll also say good bye for now to Screaming Rabbit, probably saying or doing something that makes her slightly uncomfortable - like gently touching her shoulder or something. :-) ))

[[Rabbit'll duck back and turn it into a formal forearm-clasp if she sees it coming - Mose might even get a very, very nervous hug if there's no-one else about, though she'll tell him to stop if the response is 'squash Rabbit!'/he holds too long.]]

OOC: Skipping ahead is fine with me. Art will speak quietly with Wovoka about the bits of information Art withheld when he originally told his story and his reasons for doing so. Art will also try to gather what supplies can be spared, and horses if possible. He will look for appropriate, hooded attire. He will say his farewells to any of the Cheyenne that have survived. And provide his thanks to his Lakota teachers, Horn Chips and Laughing Calf, as well as to Wovoka and Eagles Floating. Art will wish Rabbit well on whatever journey the spirits have called for him to undertake. He will listen to whatever guidance the other Ghost Dancers wish to share, and listen for anything that the spirits might have to say.

This thread is now closed. Art and Moses, resume posting on the Chapter 5.2: An Occurrence At Deadwood Gulch thread. Rabbit, when you and John Truman are done with your bit, I'll make a Chapter 5.3 thread.

I can't see the 5.2 thread. Is it in a group to which I don't have access?

Nope, I'm still writing it.