Dawn finds the cold mountain air still. As the riders rise, they can feel the icy fingers of the morning stretching out with their numbing touch, eager to chill skin that is unprotected from the wintry temperature. The howls and yips of unseen wolves greet the first rays of the sun that trace the jagged horizon. The breaking of camp proceeds quietly, undisturbed by anything that may be watching from within the shelter of the dead trees.

Roberts leads the posse in the same direction pointed out by Lawrence Murphy in the dead of night. Although still dense, the surrounding forest has lost much of the oppressive power it possessed in the night. Nonetheless, it retains its unnatural character, the gray trunks seeming to straddle the boundary between life and death, not overtaken fully by either state. As the sloping trail leads higher, the wind awakens, blowing southward directly into the riders’ faces, buffeting them as they push forward with their climb, its strength enough at moments to feel as if it is pushing against them, trying to force them back down the mountain.

The group presses on, eventually reaching level ground. Here, the wind is calmer, and the forest has thinned, with only stands of piñons and isolated pines standing watch on either side of the trail. As the sun rises higher, the riders are struck with the idea that some of the nearby trees are misshapen, grotesque even, until the growing light reveals the truth: many of the trunks have been struck with numerous arrows. Some have almost a dozen of the missiles in them, each one a gray spike in the hazy morning illumination. Scattered along the path are innumerable arrowheads, along with broken spears and even the occasional coup stick.

A few of the horses nicker, expressing their uneasiness. A few moments later, the remains of a lone wagon appears on the western side of the trail, most of its wooden body rotten, its wheels broken and stained with rust. A rifle and shotgun, their barrels pitted by the elements, lie close to one of the front wheels, and hanging from one of the arched metal bows that once supported the canvas covering, the stained remains of a flannel shirt flaps lazily in the cold breeze. Roberts pauses at the ruin, regarding it with haunted eyes, before urging his mount onward.

The trail bends eastward, and as the posse rounds the turn, they sight a lone building, a wide, single story cabin fashioned from pine. The structure is not large, its interior likely made up of a single room. A crude stone chimney rises on the northern end of the building, smoke drifting from its top. Ahead of the front door, which is covered by an overhang that is littered with gray pine needles, three wooden frames stand, with hides stretched across them to cure. The riders can pick out rabbit, deer, and wolf pelts. A short distance from the frames is a stump with an axe buried in it, a small stack of freshly cut firewood beside it.

Roberts scowls. ”This...wasn’t here before,” he tells the others.

"Mebbe it ain't here now neither."  Kansas Kate speculated.  She was Not Amused.  Whatever the hell it was that was here was trying to mess with her and she was not having it.

She circled the cabin, curious how many entrances it actually had by way of door or window.

”Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, Lydia,” Tamsin whispered to comfort her horse. She frowned as her eyes swept over the cabin. ”If it is here, who is in it? I suppose we might need to know who’s in it if it isn’t here, as well.”

This seems pretty magical. Has Tamsin heard of anything similar or the same as this situation with the mystery cabin appearing?

04:58, Today: Tamsin River rolled 6,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,4.  Cabin in the Woods? (occult knowledge roll)

"How long since you were last out here?" he asked.

"My guess is that it takes a...powerful will to live in a place like this, not while there are so many more habitable choices of residence. Either that, or a powerful patron, friendly or unfriendly. But either way, I don't think we can leave this at our flank without checkin' it out first."

OOC:

Making a roll just to see if he can have observed how old the arrows, coup sticks, and tomahawks look that were in the trees. Are they relatively recent or old?

11:33, Today: Bryan Lee rolled 4,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max.  Notice.

Dr. Wayland eyed the cabin with the others and tightened his hand on the reins of the, understandably, skittish horse.  It occurred to him that he didn't know its name...  Before his mind wandered too far down that odd road, he shook it out of his head, muttering quietly, "A name wouldn't save you anyhow..."  Which would likely be an odd thing to anyone close enough to hear him.  Especially, when the scientist offered, "Pe'haps we should engage in more direct observation?  Ah find that knocking politely can open many doahs.  Shall Ah?"   Wayland looked quite ready to ride into the dragon's throat...  I mean, up to the door of the cabin.  Unless objections or evidence was produced to change his mind.

02:58, Today: Dr. Ezekiel Q. Wayland rolled 1,3 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3.  Notice.

I forgot about notice!
01:12, Today: Tamsin River rolled 7,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max (((6+1)7,5)). Cabin in the Woods Notice.

“I would wait until one of them takes a look,” Tamsin says, gesturing at Lee, Cooper, Castillo. “We might not want the door to open.”

Albert frowned as he looked at the cabin, nodding along as the others spoke.

At Wayland's suggestion, Albert held up his index finger, suggesting the doctor wait a moment. "I'd like ta hear if anyone has any thoughts 'bout this edifice first."

He looked around to the others to see if they had any thoughts, though the cowboy did slip his pistol out of its holster, just in case.

OOC: Cooper had planned to make some magic bullets while waiting for the breaking of camp. Please let me know who wants one. He can make 5 at most.

”I haven’t climbed up this far since the wagon train. That’s been years ago,” Roberts tells Lee.

Studying one of the nearby trees, the Ranger can see that the shafts of the arrows that struck it are gray with age, the color of a few nearing black. Lee feels certain that the missiles are ancient, and if interfered with, several would likely crumble upon being handled.

As she circles the humble dwelling, Kansas Kate notes that it has a front and back door, with a single square window positioned to the right of each entrance. The outlaw notices that a dim orange light is visible within both of the windows.

Cautiously drawing a few steps closer to the rear window, Kansas Kate is able to see wood burning in a fireplace on the northern wall. An oil burning lantern, hung from an iron hook in the ceiling, provides additional light. Seated at a table, a heavyset man is building items with stripped branches and leather cords. Kansas Kate immediately recognizes them as snares used to capture small game, such as rabbits. Seated in a chair facing the fireplace, a dark haired woman is stitching a tear in a worn pair of jeans. The outlaw has difficulty discerning the features of either occupant though the frosted, smoke stained glass.

Tamsin River is able to glimpse the same scene through the cabin’s front window.

At the moment, it does not appear that the residents of the house are aware of those watching them.

He nods in thanks to Roberts.

"I think we have to figure out what's goin' on here one way or another. If there's an enemy here, better dealt with now than had at our back while we're seein' to the Owl Witch. But I'm willing to wait if y'all have other thoughts."

”I’m not sure they’re an enemy,” Tamsin says distractedly as she dismounted her horse, keeping a firm grip on its reins. ”Honestly, they look quite... normal.”

Kansas Kate completed her wide circles.  "One o' ya'll... not me..."  She didn't know what else to say.  She could piss people off or anger them, but she wasn't their best diplomat and she knew it.  "Wanna try jawjackin', ah'll cut 'em off round back, yell Hosanna if ya want 'em dead."

She looked to Cooper.  "Still ain't sure they's really even thar, but ya don't win th' pot if ya don't play th' hand.  Ya got one of them special slugs I'll borry it, if not, lead it'll be."

Jacinta remained on her horse, rifle at the ready.  She leaned on the pommel, looking over at Bryan.  "You're the best up close, chino.  Why don't you go give a knock and we'll cover you."


OOC:  Jacinta will take one of Al's magic bullets if he has any to spare. 

Dr. Wayland gave a slightly overdramatic sigh and rolled his eyes.  He let that be the extent of his prima donna attitude about the situation, though.  After all, the Ranger was quite good up close.  And it was probably a trap or something anyway.  Possibly ghosts again.  He glanced around at the desolate, wicked landscape.  Seemed like a good place for ghosts really.  Voice quiet, he muttered to himself...or something else, "Close... ghost... host?  No...  you'ah nevah a good judge of things... poor judgement you...  Not listening..."  While the others concentrated on the house, the scientist decided to keep an eye on their "rear".

"Works for me. Don't know if we'll need it, but just...be ready."

With that, he adjusted his Ranger badge so that it was super obvious, and walked up and rapped on the door.

"Texas Ranger here. Just wanna talk,"

Albert nodded at Kate. "Yup, got one made fer yer loadout, Double Kay. Filched the bullet when ya weren't lookin', then scratched it up nice. Make it count when ya shoot it."


As Bryan went to the door, Albert dropped two bullets into Jay-Lo's hand. "A lovely gift fer a lovely lady."

There is the sound of movement within the cabin; the scraping of chair legs, muffled words, and heavy footfalls, then the door is pulled open. On the other side is a barrel chested man in a buckskin shirt and jeans, his hair and thick beard streaked with gray. In his hands is a black powder rifle, an Enfield musket, a pair of blue feathers secured to the barrel with a leather cord. He regards Lee with a suspicious frown. ”Some kinda law. What in hell you want with us? We ain’t troubled no one.”

Kearney, her hands raised, joins Lee at the front door. ”We’re not here to cause any trouble, sir,” she tells the man evenly, “We’re just headed to the top of the mountain. We weren’t aware anyone had settled up here.”

The man with the rifle spits on the ground. ”Been up here a long time. Ten years, I reckon. First came here as part the army in ‘47. Served under Colonel Price during the Taos Rebellion. Stayed in New Mexico after. Me and the wife wanted a place to ourselves, away from most folks. Built this cabin just before the winter of ‘49. Stayed ever since.”

He glances over at the sloping trail. ”What are y’all after up there?” He grins. Hopin’ the witch’ll grant your wishes or some such?”
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:35, Tue 11 Feb 2020.

"Well, I don't think we have any wishes that the wish is gonna wanna grant. How exactly have y'all survived up here? What I mean is that we just put paid to a spider that was bigger than this here cabin, and it looks like just the two of y'all."

”Largest spider I seen up here was no bigger than the end of my little finger,” the man tells Lee, holding out his left pinky for emphasis, ”Sure you ain’t been taking some of that peyote the Mescaleros favor?”

“As I said, we’ve been up here about ten years all told. Not a lick of trouble. Don’t have many visitors, which suits us just fine. You’re the first in...well at least a couple of years.”

He looks over the rest of the riders with a frown. He points at Albert Cooper. ”When your friend there came up here last night with that señorita with the braids, it scared me and the wife plenty. Never even heard their horses. Just looked out the window and there they were. Watchin’ the cabin. Stayed for nigh on an hour.”

“Seemed like they were huntin’ something. That what you’re doin’ up this way? Trackin’ down some bad men?”

Jacinta frowned, tipping her hat back.  She urged her horse a bit closer to the house so she could look the man in the face.  "Gringo, what year do you believe it is?  Far as I figure, the Taos Rebellion was some thirty plus years ago."  She threw Albert a confused glance.

”Thirty years ago?” He shakes his head incredulously. ”If that were the way it was, I’d be more than seventy years old!” He cackles hoarsely. ”No Señorita, I reckon it’s 1859, mebbe 1860.”

He squints at Castillo and the two law dogs at his doorstep. ”I’d still like to know who you’re huntin’ for up this way. If it’s someone dangerous, I figure I’ve got the right to know about ‘em.”

"We were looking to chat with the individual you've referred to as a...was it a witch? Do you have any information about the witch's whereabouts, or have you had any dealings with said witch? We heard that the witch is dangerous and potentially involved in criminal activity. We didn't think anyone would be living in her backyard, and hope that you have some information about this witch."

Speaking of witches, Kansas Kate stood calmly by the back door.  She took Cooper's magic pill and stuck it somewhere quick to get to, but highly secure, a unique trick of hers.

She weighed her options for killing everyone inside the cabin.  She listened, but mostly to determine how many people were inside.  And she kept her back to the cabin and scanned the area around and behind, lest an accomplice sneak up on her.

After passing out a few bullets, Albert kept his eyes trained on the distance. He didn't want anyone sneaking up on them while everyone's attention was focused inside. He moved himself close enough that he could hear the conversation and add his two cents if necessary, but his back was to the posse and the inhabitants of the cabin they'd discovered.

Puzzled by the man's apparent suspension in time, Jacinta turned her horse away and began to inspect the area, searching for any signs of recent travel.  Why had he said he'd seen them outside of his cabin?  Were they apparitions or some sort of warning?  If there were any tracks to be found, she was certain she could find them.



Tracking: 7

00:53, Today: Jacinta Castillo rolled 7,7 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,(6+1)7.  Tracking.

Peering into the cabin’s rear window a second time, Kansas Kate scans the interior, able only to see one other inhabitant aside from the man at the door: the dark haired woman she had observed previously. The woman, presumably the man’s wife, has ceased her chore, her attention fixed on the conversation, her hands clasped together nervously. Taking in the details of the rest of the home, Kansas Kate sees nothing that leads her to believe that anyone else resides there.

Although Albert Cooper and Kansas Kate remain vigilant, scanning the trail and nearby foliage for any hint of danger, the rocky terrain and stands of trees surrounding the cabin remain still. Neither rider sees any movement nearby, the stillness adding to the lingering sense of isolation.

”Son, if’n you’re thinkin’ the witch had a hand in some kind of crime, I can guarantee you she didn’t do it alone.” The man’s expression becomes serious. ”The witch is like...nature itself. I’ve come to think of her as the spirit of the mountain. I reckon she’s been here before all of us. But when it comes to people, she’s just a reflection of those who settle here.”

“My wife and I, those down in the valley, we don’t want much. Just enough fish, game, and harvest to keep us fed. A safe place to call home where it’s warm and dry. It’s enough. More than enough. And the witch...she’s content, just as we are. That’s why we can live here in peace.”

“Only scary story I’ve heard of her was from a time when the young braves of the mountain tribes grew angry because their elders wouldn’t allow them to go raiding. So they rebelled. Turned against their own people. Murdered and pillaged. She stirred awake then. And called up all kinds of darkness to cover the land.”

He shrugs. ”Some folks, they ain’t happy til they’ve ruined themselves and everyone around ‘em. If that’s what people want, she’ll answer.”

“Either way, she’s up there. Not much further. You’ll know when you reach it. The place where the rocks flatten out. Snows almost all the time”

Jacinta dismounted and paced the area several times over, frowning at what she saw.  Confused, she retraced her steps, thinking she'd missed something.  Clearly, she hadn't.  Shaking her head, she glanced back to the posse.

"Y'all want to take a look at this?  Something here ain't right."  Catching Roberts' and Shabbakasha's eye, she waved them over, as well.

Roberts steps over to the tracks at Castillo’s prompting, as does Roving Wolf. Crouching down, the bounty hunter studies the ground, then shakes his head. ”Some of these prints...they look like they were made by animals that were diseased. Not long for this world, but then they seem to get...healthier as they stop in front of the cabin.”

He grimaces. ”These sickly lookin’ tracks, those don’t surprise me. Last time I was up here, I saw a fair share of things walkin’ about that should have been in a grave.”

Shabbakasha’s expression is grim. ”Some of those that have refused to sleep for many winters, they are like coyote. Tricksters, able to conceal their true nature. To take on different shapes.”

He nods in the direction of the cabin. ”The man...he said he saw you. You and the gunfighter. That you watched his home from horseback. But you have never ridden up here before.”

“It was not you, pia wa'óo. It was one of the dead who had borrowed your form.”

At Jacinta's beckoning, Albert moved closer to her and then listened to what Shabbakasha and Roberts voiced. "Hm. So what does that all mean fer us? Do them animals stay better once they ain't by the cabin no more?"

The cowboy paused to ponder. "Cuz it seems like we're close and now we gotta place we can retreat to should that be needed."

”Their appearance of health is an illusion. They are shapeshifters, but their true form is that of something long dead. The sickly tracks, that was when they traveled as they truly are.” Shabbakasha explains.

”If this is a safe place, it might be that they chose to take on the forms of some of us in hopes that the cabin owner would fear us. That he would not give us his trust. It does not seem to have worked. But...”

He points to some of the tracks. All can see that the prints that headed south, down the mountain, appeared to be those of healthy horses. ”When they left here they kept their false forms.” He looks to Cooper. ”Should we find them, I believe that they will still look like you. You and pia wa'óo.”

Roberts considers the tracks for a moment, then says, ”I haven’t always ridden on the right side of the law. Thing is, if I could make myself look like one of my enemies, I’d try to get amongst those that were causin’ me grief, sow a little confusion and turmoil. Maybe kill a few of ‘em, since they wouldn’t see it coming.”

He looks out at the surrounding trees. ”If I was a betting man, I’d wager that those two shapeshifters are close. Real close. Waiting for the chance to slip into the group and bring misery.”

“I reckon it’s treat important we don’t get split up from now on.”

She sighed.  "I was afraid of that.  When he mentioned the two of us, I knew something was at play here.  They walked down toward our encampment.  I wager that if we hadn't set watch, they would have tried something then."

Looking first at Cooper then to the others, she lowered her voice.  "We should have some sort of signal to one another in case we are separated and return.  Something that will let us know that we are friend and not foe.  What say the rest of you?"

”When Comanche braves are on the hunt, they use the sign of the snake to tell one another to move quietly. To alert fellow hunters when prey is near. We can use the same sign to tell one another that we are who we appear to be.”

He extends his right forearm in front of him, palm down. Moving his wrist and elbow, he emulates the movement of a snake.

The cabin owner studies Lee and Kearney silently for a moment. Shaking his head, he retreats into the cabin momentarily, returning with a pair of worn canteens, one in each hand.  ”Water taken from from the stream, just east of here. Purest you’ll ever taste. Stays cold, no matter what.”

He walks down the steps, his gait slowed by a limp. ”If you’ve got to go up there, and you’re not sure of what you’re seein’, take a guzzle. It’ll help.”

“Just remember, that witch, she’s only as bad as the people that settle on her land. She becomes what they think they need.”

He hands one canteen to each of the law dogs. As he does, he fades from view, his form briefly becoming translucent before vanishing entirely. Behind him, the cabin becomes vacant, its windows without glass, its doors open, swaying slightly in the mountain breeze. The structure itself remains sound, the wood weathered by years of resisting the elements, but still sturdy enough to stand firm and support the roof above it.

Glancing into the back window again, Kansa Kate sees that the cabin is vacant, save for a table, a lone chair, and the cold fireplace.

Kansas Kate was actually not that surprised, though to say she wasn't moved by the spectacle would be a falsehood.  She was pretty sure whatever was here, wasn't here, as she was pretty sure Murphy was never here.

She considered her next action carefully, and opted to enter the cabin to conduct a search.  She wasn't hoping for much, but hoped against hope some record of who had been here, when they had actually been here, might be present.

I do have a Windfall card, if there's anything actually here, it might all just be ashes.

He studied Kearney for a moment as they held their canteens and had witnessed what had just transpired. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but seemed to place some trust in what they had just been told.

"I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, Miss Kearney, but I'm thinkin' it might not hurt to heed the advice of this apparition regarding these here canteens. If other folks have water skins, maybe if the stream ain't too far we could suggest filling up there. I'm thinkin' whatever happened here, maybe somethin' like the opposite of whatever happened down in Angus."

He beckoned to her to rejoin the rest of the group with him.

Kearney follows Lee to where the rest of the riders have gathered. The pair arrive in time to hear the last portion of the discussion about using the sign of the snake to confirm that the members of the posse are who they appear to be.

Kansas Kate enters the cabin, her footfalls the only sound within the vacant structure, except for the whisper of the breeze. The outlaw pauses to examine the table, finding only a pair of dusty plates and a few pieces of tin cutlery. A neatly folded quilt, pale blue and white, rests in the seat of the single chair, its colors dulled by a thin layer of dust.

Looking about, Kansas Kate sees nothing that would provide any clue regarding the identities of the former inhabitants. However, as she lingers inside, she is overtaken by an emotion that is relatively foreign to her: peace. The outlaw is calm, perfectly aware of the danger that likely faces her and her companions, but somehow untroubled by it, confident that the posse can face whatever might await them on the mountaintop.

OOC: Kansas Kate, you’re now entitled to a +1 modifier to any Spirit rolls you’re required to make. The boost will remain as long as you’re on the mountain.

Albert considered the suggested signal. "Guess the only thing is if we're bein' watched, a signal that can be observed might be able ta be copied? Maybe we should each get our own word ta say instead? Mebbe even have ta work it inta a sentence if we're split up an' come back?"

The cowboy furrowed his brow in contemplation as he looked around for thoughts from others.

The outlaw walked out the front of the cabin, dazed, but very calm, something rare for her.  She spoke strangely as she volunteered her unsolicited synopsis.  "Ah think... ah think whatever were here, were doin' an okie doke, but... ah reckon it had to.  Ah don't think it knows anoth'r way to be.  Mebbe it want'd ta help, mebbe not, but ah don't think it meant no harm."

"I agree," she said to Kate, throwing a glance back at the cabin.  "Maybe why whatever came to visit them couldn't get any closer."

Looking back to Albert, she quirked a brow.  "What's yours, then?

Roberts takes a few steps toward the vacant cabin, regarding it soberly. ”I wonder... if it knew. If the mountain knew somehow. It understood that those of us that were leading the train were bad men. Only concerned with money, nothin’ else. Maybe that’s why this place didn’t appear to us. We weren’t deserving of its help.”

He frowns, his expression haunted. ”If that fella told the truth, I wonder if all the bad that happened up here...it was because of us. What was in our hearts. That she...La Lechuza, she became murderous because Murphy was. Because he was willing to trade people’s lives for power.”

He turns back, gazing down the trail, in the direction of the ruined wagon. ”I never saw none of those people die. I ran when the shadows came alive. Found a place to hole up and fight. All the others...the people going to California...they were just gone.”

Albert listened to Kate's thoughts and nodded. The whole thing was a bit strange, but seemingly harmless. He nodded at her summary.

At Jacinta's question, Albert raised an eyebrow. "Lasso. Easy enough ta work inta a sentence fer me."

The cowboy became pensive at Roberts' commentary. "That...makes things a bit weird fer us, then, don't it? If La Lechuza's just a reflection? Or has nature been corrupted beyond help?" It didn't exactly jive with what Murphy had said. Not that Kate believed that to be Murphy anyway.

"Well won't know 'til we get there.  We can stand around with our peckers in our hands or we can move."  Kansas Kate snapped this time, more acrid, more... customary.

"I guess we know what your word will be, chica," she said to Kansas.  "Let's get on with it, then."

Whistling for her horse, she mounted the creature and gave it a pat on the neck.  As usual, her rifle stood propped on one leg.  The bullet that Albert had given her was added to the others in her firearm.

"If the old timer in the cabin is right, then maybe she'll help us put down Murphy," Jacinta offered.  "Go up with open hearts and open minds."

"I think that's not a bad plan. Also, the...fella in the cabin gave us these." He held up one of the canteens that he'd been given.

"He said that in case things get a little fuzzy up there that, we can drink this water and that it'll somehow help. It's from a spring just east of here apparently, and it'll clear us right up."

"Lead the way Kate, long as everyone's ready."

She saw no harm in going along with it, which wasn't her custom.  But what was her custom was to grunt slightly and re-saddle in preparation to move east.