In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #49):

"Of course" Robert smiles slightly, pleased to have annoyed the rough man outside.  Once the door is shut, he says, "I actually just wanted to know, did the judge come in last night?"

John stepped out of the saloon and peered down both directions the road went wondering as to which he should take first. He paused a moment and frowned as there appeared to be something going on not far off. Turning back to Charging Bear he chuckles and shakes his head. "I believe our friend Allouette is getting some attention." he said with a light wince.

"I'm afraid the only company I had last night after you left were Mssrs. Jack Daniels and Jim Beam. Of course, there was a point that I eventually reached where God Himself could have knocked on my door and I would not have heard it. I only returned to consciousness when the ape with the shotgun outside paid me a call...I haven't even had my coffee yet. I would have thought he'd be at The Grand Bull, but if you're asking me where he is that's not the case, is it?"

He frowns. "There's a roadhouse north of town, a few miles out on the road to Houston, where he might have stayed if it got too dark to travel on to the town proper. I've never met the man, personally, so I wouldn't know if he's the kind to take his leisure at a distant port or push through to the town proper. Of course, there's the Oriental, but that's not a place one spends more than a portion of the evening, if you take my meaning."

He sighs. "I suppose it's also possible he might have stayed with Mayor Bruebaker...that man tends to like getting to know the powerful people who pass by his domain, and such an offer of hospitality would be in keeping with what I know of the man."

Looking at the direction of the commotion, Charging Bear smiles at John Smith's words, "Would you expect anything else?" Taking a few steps into the street, he looks to the sun and smiles. "Perhaps should see what the attention is about." With that he begins walking towards the tin can angel.

Alouette leans and takes a good look at the town hall, then straightens.
"Clear as Balblair single malt 1873 - beautifully balanced, complex and satisfying, with a faint smoky aftertaste." With this somewhat cryptic remark the automaton trundles off down the street, leaving the Mayor, August and ever-curious passers-by to mind its hole in the ground whilst it fetches its glass of water.

The clank happily ambles down the road, covered top to bottom in the local mud.
"Howdy Called Charging Bear! Howdy John John Smith!"

Not being fully aware of the protocols of conversation, it doesn't look likely to stop, though it surely will if talked to. It's heading for the saloon to pick up the water it left for blessing earlier.

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #56):

"Hmm.  Well, do you know of any issues he has to resolve?"

"I don't think it's minded to be insultin'," August says to the mayor as Alouette trundles away.  "Near as I can tell, it never spent much time with regular folks before.  I'll make sure this hole gets covered up again once it's done, though, I promise you that."

Looking past the mayor, August catches sight of John and Charging Bear and offers them a nod and a wry smile, reflecting that he came out here to help keep the machine out of trouble, and he sure hasn't managed to do much of that.  Still, at least nobody started shooting.

With an eyebrow slightly raise, the young brave begins walking towards August and Alouette. "Seems they're having all the fun," he mutters to John.

"Leaving aside all the problems we discussed last night, which probably wouldn't involve a judge until some arrests were actually made, there is still the issue of him swearing me in officially as Marshal of Blackthorn, which would grant me a greater measure of authority to meddle in the affairs of powerful people. I also have a list of disputes that I would appreciate his ruling on...mostly arguments I've mediated since coming to town that could benefit from an official ruling rather than the ad hoc patching I've been forced to employ in his absence. And there's Gabby's wish to file a suit over some land that touches rather near the old Wendell Mine. That's going to be a rather ugly legal battle, from what I understand. Aside from that, I don't have any criminals awaiting trial...it's just not safe for me to hold them more than a couple of days without raising a stink from the Powers That Be, unless I can catch one in a felonious act AND have a judge to back me up."

In reply to August Colby (msg #60):

"Hrumph. Well, then. Carry on. And i would appreciate it if you could...convince this contraption to leave town. In the interests of maintaining the peace, of course." He says, then starts braking up the crowd. "Move along, then, folks. Situation in hand and all that. I shall, of course, take any complaints you have directly to the Marshal. Move along! move along!"

Now that nothing interesting is happening in the square, with the clank off to secure its holy water, the crowd breaks up and the townsfolk going about their morning business. They don't seem all that interested in Charging Bear, John Smith, or August Colby, who are left alone in the street, near a hole with a dead union corpse next to it.

"Hmm.  Well, you might want to add 'missing judge' to your list of problems.  It's my understandin' that he was supposed to be here this morning, and no one's seen him." with a nod Robert exits the Marshall's office and heads for the telegraph office.

"Oh, wonderful." Evans grumbles as Robert walks out. He leaves with Robert, and follows the grumpy man who's been stewing on the doorstep for a few minutes.

It's a brisk walk to the telegraph office, which turns out to also be the local post office. A giant "Western Union" sign broods over the door.

Inside there is a thin, middle-aged, balding man wearing a green visor working the daek. Aside from him, the place is empty.

"Good day, sir!" he says as Robert enters. "How may I be of service?"

"Mornin', fellas," August says in greeting, sounding cheerful if a bit strained.  "Y'all just missed the local mayor - I ain't sure I made a right good impression, though."

He gestures towards the open grave.  "Just keepin' an eye on this - friend machine went to fetch something for it."

The old man had finished his breakfast. a few rashers of bacon, some mealy bread, and a nice, large shot of whiskey to wash it all down...and then another swallow. Just for good measure. Did a body good, that.

He took a few minutes to cinch up the packs on his mule. Then he peeked outside the stable.

Huh. some kinda ruckus down the street. Big gaggle o' folks doin' some damn thing or another. He even thought he saw the mayor over there. What was going on? Some kind o' parade?

He shouldn't go. He had a long way to go today, and he needed to make sure his claim was really as good as he'd staked it. But he'd always been the curious sort, eager to see what was over the next rise...it's why he'd gotten into prospecting in the first place.

So after his mule was all ready to go, instead of taking the road out of town, he headed over to the crossroad. Well, that was strange. There was a big pit, right there in the middle o' the road!  And were those boot sticking out of it?

There were three folks standin' around near the pit, so he moseyed on over. His mule decided now would be the time to be stubborn, though...it stopped, snorted, and refused to budge.

"Oh, consarn it, you jackass!" He shouted. "What in tarnation's wrong with you now?" He tried to coax the mule, then started pulling on the reigns, hard, but to no avail. Eventually, he gave up. "Fine, you flea-bitten nag. Be that way." he growled, and let the reigns go. "You just wait here."

Stupid mule. It was always doing this, refusing to go near the interesting places. He let it alone, and waddled up to the three men standing by the pit. An Indian, a young feller, and a guy with three sticks o' wood on his belt instead o' a gun. That were mighty strange in and of itself.

"Well, hello there!" he said to break the ice. "Seems there's been some excitement here! What's been going on here?"

"A tin can angel is putting that once possessed man into the grave it dug." Charging Bear says in a deadpan voice.

"We-hell, now! That sounds like a right strange sight to see, and I'm sorry I missed it! And I know about strange sights, let me tell you! Are we talkin' possessed as in bit by a rabid dog, or as in fire-n-brimstone demon here? I can't imagine the mayor would be too happy if it were the other kind...might air out some dirty laundry o' his, if'n you catch my drift." He takes a nip from a sliver flask.

"Mornin'.  I just need to send a message, do you have the form?"

[Private to GM: I figure I need to send a coded message to my superiors, saying that there might be ghost rock here.
And a real one finding out of the judge was held up]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:43, Mon 01 Feb 2010.

"Right here" he says, handing you a sheet. "It'll be 5 cents a word, 10 for words over 8 letters. Had too many people trying to send messages full of things like 'magnanimous gestures of impeccable manners' and the like. Keep it simple, and it's more likely to get through. That's my motto, anyway."

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: That's fine. Just give me the texts of the messages you wish to send.]

"The second kind, sir," August says helpfully.  "Dead bluecoat gone and woke up and started preachin' to us all about damnation.  One of 'em tried to claw John's face open, besides," he adds with a nod to his companion.

"Ain't rightly sure I catch your drift, though.  You reckon the mayor knows somethin' about demons?"

"We-hew! Well, sonny, you sure know how to spin a yarn, I give you that. Though I seen some things in my day, so I guess I shouldn't discount such.  As fer my drift, well, I'll speak plainly then--Everyone knows Mayor Bruebaker sold his soul to the Devil to get where he is today. O'course, no one will say as such in so many words, not out loud, but they all knows it. The preacher knew it, too, you can bet your biscuits on it." He gives them a conspiratorial look, and lowers his voice. "Was gonna call him out on it, way I hear it, but then he ups and 'vanishes'. Mighty suspicious, that. Mighty suspicious indeed."

The returning brass nut/boltcase finds its way slightly obstructed by a mortal it's not met before.

"Howdy, mule!"

The mule looks at Alouette, starts a bit, and backs out of the clank's way. It lets out a bemused braying at the automaton's greeting.

"Fear not!" The automaton raises the holy glass of water a little to show the bemused mule. "Self is angel, self is solving inappropriate location of previously possessed corpse. Self will protect from any extant demons - fear not!"

Mule thus reassured, Alouette wanders on up behind Gabby where he's looking into the hole. "Howdy, hat! Howdy August Colby, howdy Called Charging Bear, howdy John John Smith!" It looks about. "Location is minus man of facial clouds."

It ticks a bit at this, then walks about to set its glass of water down on the side of the pit with quite astonishing delicacy. It then lobs itself gracelessly down the hole - clearly none too familiar with jumping yet.

The old man watches the appearance of Alouette, blinks a bit, and watches, stupefied, as it artlessly hops down the hole.

"Tarnation. I suppose that'd be the tin can angel you were talkin' about afore, huh?"

"That would be one and the same." John said breaking his silence as he tried to wrap his mind around the strangeness of the past day. He had heard of plenty of strange and weird things occurring in out of the way places but never had he been directly involved beyond maybe seeing a walking corpse playing cards in a tavern once. He had chalked that one up to a little too much alcohol though. "Dealin' with the devil hmm? Way I understand it that never ends well." he said shaking his head, he had never much been one for religion.