In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 28):

Earnest, realizing the rest will do them good, acquiesces.

Very well, two nights... what time is dinner served?

He quickly counts out 8 dollars.

Tracy turns and moves toward the chairs to his left, fixing his gaze upon the tall man near the large steamer trunk, well within a few feet from the newspaper. The man seemed to have already noticed Tracy before his approach.

The Investigator gestured toward the chair holding the newspaper, palm up.

"Good afternoon, sir. Does this newspaper here belong to you?"

In reply to Earnest Nicholas Samuel Ringgenberg (msg # 32):

"Six o'clock," answers the clerk. He scratches again in the ledger, and then hands a key attached to a small, square wooden block with the number 15 engraved on the face.

In reply to Tracy Windham (msg # 33):

Jacob turned his attention away from Earnest when the man who had just entered the room asked about the paper.

"Howdy," the Texan replied to the fellow's politely wishing him a good afternoon, his expression softening a little as he looked the younger man in the eye.

"Nope, don't know whose paper that is," he continued. "I got no claim to it."

"Well, then it looks like I do now."

Tracy picks up the newspaper and opens his brown leather haversack, worn from years of trusty service. He slides the newspaper in among its contents, taking a few seconds to carefully order it among the items already within the bag.

The young Investigator turned his gaze again to his interlocutor, extending his arm toward the man to offer a handshake.

"By the way, sir, my name is Tracy Windham. Nice to meet you."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:47, Tue 23 Oct 2018.

In reply to Tracy Windham (msg # 36):

"Reckon you do, at that," Jacob replied, the crow's feet etched at the corners of his eyes by years of exposure to sun and wind crinkling with amusement as he smiled.

"Mister Windham," the Texan responded to the other man's introduction of himself, shaking the proffered hand. Jacob's handshake was firm, but not overbearing.

"I'm Jacob Richardsen."

After a pause of a couple of heartbeats, Jacob continued, "If'n you don't mind my askin', you from 'round these parts?"

The rifleman didn't have any immediate questions that required someone with local knowledge, but he figured that the Perfesser might. The easterner had a quick mind, and several times  over the course of their travels Jacob had had occasion to conclude that his pard was a couple of steps ahead of him when it came to thinking things through.

"No, sir, never been until now. I just came in on the train from San Francisco. I'm keen on moving around and finding odd jobs and the like, whether a hired gun or anything else."

The younger man smiled wryly to himself for a brief moment, thinking about the past 'jobs' he would place in the category of 'anything else.'

"A newspaper does a fine job of pointing me in the right direction when I find myself in a proper new locale, I reckon," Tracy concluded, patting the haversack slung across his body with his left hand as he spoke.

"How about yourself, Mister Richardsen? Are you from Sacramento proper, or perhaps a traveler like myself?" Tracy was particularly curious about the older man's response, something in his eyes had set off the young Investigator's sixth sense for the new and the interesting.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 34):

Earnest takes the proffered key.

Thank you.

He pauses to check the time on his watch, then turns to join with Jacob and sees him engaged in conversation with someone. Recalling his earlier encounter, he thinks: Huh, Sacramento seems to be a friendly place...

Earnest approaches the men and speaks once Jacob sees him and pauses their conversation.

We have a room Jacob... who's your new friend?

In reply to Earnest Nicholas Samuel Ringgenberg (msg # 39):

"I reckon that a 'traveler' is one of the nicer things I been called," Jacob responded with a chuckle.

"I was born an' raised in Texas, but started driftin' once the war was lost."

Jacob had heard the newcomer say that he sometimes worked as a hired gun. Tracy Windham was on the smallish side and didn't have the same look about him* as Travis Sunday, but the rifleman was reminded of the old saying about God creating man and Sam Colt making them equal. He was just about to continue speaking to Mister Windham when Earnest walked over and joined them, saying that they now had a room and asking about the Texan's new friend.

Turning to acknowledge Earnest, Jacob replied, "This here's Mister Tracy Windham, Perfesser."

"Mister Windham, meet Perfesser Earnest, ah, Ringgenberg." For some reason Earnest's last name always gave Jacob trouble -- perhaps because it was so foreign-sounding, at least to the Texan's ear.

Edit: *If Jacob savvied French, he might've said "je ne sais quoi". :)

Edit #2: Replaced two words with one; no substantive changes.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:25, Thu 25 Oct 2018.

As if on cue, Monsieur Poirier descends the staircase. Seeing the professor in conversation with other men, he approaches and speaks. Barging in, one might say.

"Si'l vous plait, le professeur, ou est le saloon?" asks the Frenchman.

Tracy either sensed the Texan's skepticism about his marksmanship, or else expected it after years of doubt based on his smaller stature. Proving himself was something with which the younger man was very familiar.

The Investigator also wondered what else Jacob had been called in his day.

Those thoughts were interrupted as Jacob introduced him to his friend, Professor Ringgenberg, and were further interrupted by the Frenchman's sudden appearance. Tracy tried to understand what the man said to the Professor, but he was disappointed in himself when he couldn't quite follow.

~Always wish I knew French. Maybe I'll pick it up soon.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:44, Thu 25 Oct 2018.

In reply to Tracy Windham (msg # 42):

Earnest was about to speak to Windham when Poirier interrupted, so when the Frenchman is done, he continues.

Pleased to meet you Mr. Windham... please pardon me a moment.

Then to Poirier.

J'ai peur je ne sais pas monsieur, peut-être que le réceptionniste peut vous aider.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 41):

Jacob looked irritated when the Frog came strolling up like he owned the place, butted in on the conversation, and spoke to the Perfesser in his foreign lingo.

"You savvy any of that, Mister Windham?" the Texan asked the fellow whom he had just met.

In reply to Jacob Richardsen (msg # 44):

"Pardonnez-moi," says the Frenchman, turning to address both Jacob and Tracy. "I have been rude. It is always a pleasure to meet an American with whom I can converse in my native tongue. Sometimes, I forget myself."

He glances among all three men. "Meet me at the nearest saloon and I shall be honored to buy you each a drink. Au revoir."

Poirier bows ever-so-slightly, turns on his heel and departs the Stockton Hotel.

"Nothing but 'saloon,' I'm afraid," Tracy replied to the Texan, just before the Frenchman addressed the two of them.

After Poirier departed the hotel, Tracy continues,"Well, he was certainly a bit rude, but I can't help but be curious about him. I think I'm going to join him at the saloon later."

The young Investigator finishes by addressing his new acquaintances, "Do you think you'll join as well?"

In reply to Tracy Windham (msg # 46):

Jacob looked a little surprised, and then a little sheepish when the Frenchman switched to English, apologized, and offered to stand the Americans to a round of drinks later.

"Waal, I reckon that a man who's buyin' cain't be all peckerwood," the Texan opined after the Frenchman had departed.

"Dependin' on what else is goin' on by then, I might take him up on it," he responded to Mister Windham's question. "I'll ad-mit to bein' a mite curious as to what the inside of a saloon looks like in these parts . . . prob'ly a sight less wooly than some I been in afore."

Turning to Earnest, Jacob asked, "How 'bout it, Perfesser? You plan on joinin' Monshure Lee Frog later?"

In reply to Jacob Richardsen (msg # 47):

Earnest watches the Frenchman depart and listens to the remaining mens' conversation.

Let's put our belongings away first, but yes, I think a drink is in order!

Earnest checks his watch once again.

OOC: time check?

The professor, checking his watch as he often does considering the tracking of time has proved itself a bugbear for the easterner, saw that it was just past 12:45 p.m.

With Windham needing to secure lodgings himself -- and Ringgenberg and Richardsen needing time to secure their belongings, not to mention get a little rest after their travails in Frisco -- the men had agreed to take care of those affairs and then meet in the saloon in approximately one hour. No later than 2 p.m. was the accord.

As each of the men reach the saloon, they find it functional, but unimpressive in every way. The rectangular building sat at the opposite end of the train yard from the Stockton Hotel, with the station itself in between.

The place exudes the odor of tobacco -- and some other malodors not easily discernable by a preliminary whiff of the air. An 'L-shaped' bar stretches across half of the single open-space room, on the left of the entrance. Several patrons stand at the bar, a foot on the bottom rail or leaning backs against the top of the bar. One long table with benches on either side takes up most of the rest of the space. A few patrons sit along the benches, conversing. One man in particular has a vagabond appearance about him -- a drifter some might say -- and whether by choice or by circumstance he sits apart from the others at the long table, staring into his drink.

Alphonse Poirier stands at the bar, talking to a man in a bowler hat.

----------------------------------

OOC: The order you post is the order you arrive at Depot Dan's. The Judge gave the general description of the place and some of its patrons; the PCs need to insert themselves in the RP, fill in gaps in the narrative as desired and push forward the plot with the help of Poirier.

The Judge has decided that Jacob and Earnest will each have either: 1 wound or 1 level of fatigue as a result of the battles with the Tongs in SF (PC choice). If either chooses 1 wound, ENS would be providing medical attention for the wound, as pertinent to Natural Healing. If either chooses 1 fatigue, the only remedy is rest.

Either chosen condition means the two PCs suffer -1 to Trait tests.

BTW, the saloon has no bar stools and no individual tables. There are no women in the place, at all.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:30, Sun 28 Oct 2018.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 49):

It didn't take long for the Texan and the easterner to move their belongings into their hotel room. Other than what he wore or carried, Jacob's were contained in his canvas duffel bag, and he supposed that all of the Perfesser's were contained in Earnest's steamer trunk.

The Perfesser and the rifleman set his the trunk down at the foot of one of the beds, and Jacob tossed his duffle bag down atop the other. The Texan leaned his rifle in its leather scabbard against the wall nearest his bed, with the barrel pointing upwards.

"I got to ad-mit that I'm feelin' a mite tuckered out," Jacob said to his pard. "I'm just goin' to stretch out on this here bed an' shut my eyes for a little while. I don't in-tend to doze off, but seein' as how you're the one with the time-piece, wake me up if'n I do an' it gits to be time to skedaddle."

The Texan stretched out on the bed with a sigh of comfort, his hat shielding his eyes. In a short while he was snoring quietly . . .

---

Edit: Cleaned up a few things (as marked); no substantive changes.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:21, Mon 29 Oct 2018.

~What're you thinkin' Dee?

Her voice echoes in his mind. Lost in thought, too many ideas. Looking up casually Dave takes a long slow look across the table. He notices the man ordering a drink at the bar, not much going on here.

"...damn it Darla..." he mutters to himself.

He takes another look at his drink and slowly finishes it.

In reply to Dave Walker (msg # 51):

Dave Walker notices that the people around him at the long table have shifted their positions, gradually. Turning away from him, or physically sliding away along the common bench. Nothing new.

The wanderer had talked to his drink since he sat down. Now, as he drains the contents of the first glass and looks to the bar asking Darla whether he should get another, he sees a man at the bar turn his eyes aside. Another man, an ostentatious feller, who is speaking French at the bar stands between him and the bartender. Walker might have to get up.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:52, Mon 29 Oct 2018.

In reply to Dave Walker (msg # 51):

Jacob's eyes snapped open, and he had a moment of disorientation as he stared at the ceiling, wondering where he was. Then it came to him -- in a hoe-tell, in Sacramento. The Texan raised himself up on his elbows, and saw Earnest sitting on the edge of his bed, his nose stuck in a book.

The rifleman reckoned that it must not be time to leave by the saloon in order to arrive by 2:00, because he knew the Perfesser to be a bear about keepin' track of time, and the man had not awakened him yet.

"Reckon I'll be headin' on over yonder to the saloon," Jacob said as he rose to his feet. "See you over thaere, shortly." It looked like the Perfesser was into sumpthin' powerful interesting in his book, for he didn't even look up, instead acknowledging the Texan with a pre-occupied "Ummm-hmmm."

It felt a little odd to leave his Winchester in the room, but Jacob had noticed that he seemed to attract more attention than he cared to whenever he carried his long-arm around in citified places. Besides, he was pretty sure that this saloon required a man to check his firearms at the door, and he reckoned that his Schofield would be more than he needed with respect to firepower in a place like this -- at least in broad daylight.

Jacob was right about needing to check his sidearm at the door -- there was a table set up just inside the door for that purpose, and the Texan made no bones about complying with the expectations of the locals. He supposed that failing to do so would bring an ill-tempered representative of John Law down on him pretty quick, and he had no desire to travel down that road.

Once that was taken care of (which also had the benefit of giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the darker lighting inside the building), the Texan glanced around. He spotted the Frog whom they were supposed to meet talking to a fellow over at the bar, and briefly wondered if the man was still speaking in French. Mister Windham was nowhere to be seen as of yet, which did not concern Jacob -- for if the Perfesser had not yet made his appearance, it confirmed that no one else was running late, either . . . not that Jacob was especially vexed about it, either way.

Jacob also took note of the people sitting around the table in the middle of the room, seeing that one fellow was sitting a little off to one side. Nothing unusual about that -- some folks tended to prefer their own company. The Texan reckoned that he might well feel the same way himself if he was not meeting the Perfesser and Mister Windham here in this place.

---

OOC: Earnest, I have written in a few inconsequential actions for you (IC) in the hotel room, to account for Jacob's traveling to the saloon by himself. If anything that I have written concerning the Perfesser does not ring true, please let me know and I shall cheerfully edit. :)

Tracy exited his hotel room with his newfound newspaper in hand, as well as his faithful haversack slung over his shoulder. The Investigator hoped that he could find something in it worth his attention, but, if not, it seemed that his encounter with the fellows he had just met might prove interesting nonetheless.

Descending the stairs, he angled towards the chairs where he had first spotted the newspaper and talked with Mr. Richardsen and the Professor. For some reason, it felt like good luck to peruse the newspaper in the same spot that he found it.

Tracy sat upon the chair that once held the newspaper and began to read through its contents. Unfortunately, he found nothing that particularly interested him, at least for now. It held a few articles on local happenings, a few baseball scores, and other miscellaneous items. A little disappointed, Tracy still slid it carefully back into his haversack. Once he developed some specific lead, it could prove useful later.

Now exiting the hotel, Tracy squinted his eyes in the direction of the saloon. He thought that he could see the Texan a ways ahead of him, nearing the building.

~Good timing. Better get a move on.

In reply to Tracy Windham (msg # 54) and Jacob Richardsen (msg # 53) and Dave Walker (msg # 51).

OOC: Please move your characters along. Find a way to interact with each other or anyone inside the saloon. The RP narrative has been good and enjoyable. No problem there ... just reiterating that you shouldn't be waiting for the Judge.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 55):

After glancing around the room, Jacob eased over to the bar about two feet away from the Frenchman and put his right foot up on the bottom rail. He did his best to remember the Frog's name, and found that he couldn't. Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember if the fellow had even mentioned it, at least not within earshot of the Texan.

The Texan waited for either the Frenchman to notice him and interrupt his conversation with the man in the bowler hat, or for the barman to notice him. He decided to make a bet with himself as to who would be first to do so.

~I reckon that Frog's too caught up with the sound of his own voice an' with speakin' his own lingo to pay much attenchunn to what's goin' on around him. My bet's on the bar-keep.~