John arrives in the bar having apparently just finished slipping his duster over his shoulders before moving to take a seat near Evans. He turns to looks at the man and gives him a silent nod of understanding (not that John himself looks like crap or anything) before turning his attention to Roland. "Steak, eggs, hashbrowns sound good, coffee too, please." he says, the please added in as though he had almost forgotten to be polite. He even offered a partial smile, though it was forced, John could get up and go in the mornings but it didn't mean he liked it.

Roland delivers the various drinks, then delivers the orders to the kitchen. He admits that he's a little short-handed today...one of the cooks didn't come in for work, and his sister, who usually waits tables, was still slightly hysterical after last night so he'd given her the day off.

So all in all, it takes about half an hour for the food to arrive.

After a few coffees, Evans seems more in a mood for conversation.

"Well," he says to Robert and John after polishing off a pair of sausages, "Where do you want to start? With our missing Dust Adder, or with tracking down these witnesses?"

He also looks at Wildcat. "And I'm sure you have a great many questions for me, as well. What's on your mind?"

"Not nearly as many as I had the night before."  Wildcat has sense put herself together better, as if fighting off the effects of the previous night.  "I only have two questions for you now, and this ain't the time or place fer one of 'em.  As fer th' other, I admire that ya want to make hay while the sun shines but I think yer forgetting a third priority.  Who's going to actually police the streets of this town while this investigation is under way?

"From what I seen o' this town, it looks like you can't be caught with yer britches around your ankles.  The way I see it, once you who's keeping the town, it's a matter of if'n you even have any spare manpower to go lookin' into this other stuff.  'Course that's where I come in."

"I would say that you are receiving a somewhat skewed view of the town. It's not normally this...active. Truth be told, before the whole walking dead soldier thing, it was quite peaceful in town most of the time. It's only when I made the decision to hire on some extra manpower to delve deeper into this mystery that things took the turn they did. However, I appreciate your offer to help investigate these matters."

"So let me lay out what I intend to do today. I need to sift through the wreckage of my office to see if there's anything I can salvage, because I had some experimental devices I was working on which may prove useful if they weren't turned to scrap and I need to fix my pistol. I need to question four possible witnesses to see if any of them would be willing to testify against Nathanial Frost, the ringleader of that little escapade, so that I have enough evidence to bring a case against him that can't simply be ignored. I need to conduct a search for one of the Dust Adders who apparently crawled away from the fight last night and might be hiding out planning revenge. And I suspect I am shortly going to have to deal with the Mayor crawling up my rear about last night's fiasco which, considering his sizable girth, is an uncomfortable prospect indeed. Which of these tasks do you think you'd be most helpful with?"

"Yeah I reckon, but the fact it is happening just means someone needs to be holding down th' fort.  But if yer gonna salvage here in town all day anyway, that can be on you, kill two birds with one stone.

Wildcat chuckles at Evan's joke about the mayor.  "If yer missin' a man who needs to be found, that's the exact kind of thing Rangers normally handle, especially if he skipped town on you and slipped outta local jurisdiction.  Besides, I never turn down an opportunity to hunt a Dust Adder like an animal.

"But I don't think I heard the name Frost yet.  Is he the head idiot responsible for that little stunt last night?"

Evans nods. "Yes, that would be Nathanial Frost, head idiot and leader of the Dust Adders."

"And, unfortunately, my brother." Roland says from the bar. "For which I am deeply sorry."

"It's fine, sir. You aren't responsible for what your brother does. You aren't his keeper." Evans replies, then turns back to his tablemates. "So. That sounds fine, but I don't think you should look for him alone. If he's gone to ground on Ward's land, come back and find me and we'll organize a posse to go after him."

He then turns to the others. "Robert? John? Which tasks did you want to help with?"

Katy came down, also looking a little the worse for wear but trying to hide it, and still wearing her tatty clothes from the previous evening. At least the buttons were in the right holes, but her blouse was still two sizes too large and a bit more revealing than she liked.

"'Morning," she said, trying to sound brighter than she felt. Her stomach revolted at the idea of food, especially greasy food.

"Coffee, please."

Katy sat down with the others.

"I'd like to help too, if I can."

"Let me talk to the witnesses. I might be able to talk them into testifying officially." Robert says.  "Hey Roland, did Walking Bear come in last night?  He was staying here, right?"

Evans looks a bit surprised, but pleased, at Katy's offer of help. "Well, thank you very much, ma'am. Lord knows I can use all the help I can get."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the list of names and addresses he compiled last night. "Here. The four we'll be interviewing today are Richard Clemens, Cornelius van Rijn, Gregory Hobbs, and Michael Sewell, more commonly known by the nicknames Clem, Dutch, Greg, and Mike. The addresses are here."

Roland comes over with a pot of coffee and pours a glass for Katy. At the question, he thinks for a moment. "If he did, then it was not until after I closed up shop and went to bed. But I do not think that likely...more likely, he spent the night elsewhere."

"Damn. That means he might not have made it back from Ward's place. That makes me nervous, and I think someone is going to need to go to his ranch and find out what's become of him."

Gatsu came down in a scarlet appearal almost resembling a dress, it was plain and made of regular cotton. Black rings kept the front of the hapi closed with a black obi around her waist. Though the sides were cut high up to the waist on either side, it was more for movement and it was cut short to the knees to keep the material out of her way. A pair of black leggings that fit past her ankles were underneath and her wooden sandals click clocked down the stairs as the discussion came about..

She had a damn good night of sleep, like the dead, she was out cold in another world. Her face was cleaned from the blood and sweat, moving to an adjacent table from the growing party.

" I'll head down to the Ranch. Right after breakfast." She started, her pack weighing on her shoulder for a moment. " Roland. Sir. Some biscuits, gravy, and eggs, if ya oblige." She started to unload the ghost rock. " I'll sell you that ghost rock now, Evans. Just these two big ones. I'm keepin the lil one. Just incase."

"Well, thank you, ma'am." Evans says. He opens his mouth, possibly to give a warning about the possible danger, but apparently thinks better of it. Instead, he nods at the Ghost Rock. "That's appreciated." He pulls out a wallet and counts out fifteen dollars, handing the bills over.

He picks up the chunks and pockets one. The other he shows to Wildcat. "This, my dear, seems to be what the whole fuss is about. The walking dead men we've encountered so far each had a chunk of this on them. We think it may have been mined locally." He lets the implications of that sink in.

The day, Mayor Brubaker reflected as he smoked his cigar and regarded the pile of notices that had already accrued this morning, was not off to a promising start.

He was already in a foul mood, due to the cancellation of a show he was quite looking forward to due to a gunfight on mainstreet. A gunfight! In his town!

Two gunfights, in fact. Some of Ward's boys had an altercation with that infernal contraption near the Red Eye. He hoped they at least turned it to scrap.

But this situation was growing intolerable. Already, there were rumors that a Ranger might be coming to town, and the Rangers were the last thing the Mayor wanted to deal with.

He called for his coach. it was time to inspect the scene personally, and from there he could seek Evans and try to make sense of the situation. From there, well...that would have to be decided.

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #23):

It's apparent Wildcat isn't sure what to make of that at all, and is outright perplexed by Evan's information.  This just adds a whole new layer of strangeness to this case.

"This mess goes deeper than a well in Death Valley."

"Well! I suppose we should get started." Evans says. "Robert, you see to those witnesses. Miss Hawkins, I'll let you get to tracking that Ruffian. John, Miss Gangatsu, I wish you luck on the ranch. And Miss Devon, I'd be much obliged if you'd accompany me to help sift through the remains of my office for supplies."

With that, he lets them get to it.

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: Robert, give me a Streetwise check and a description of how you question the witnesses.]

[Private to Wildcat Hawkins: Wildcat, give me a Streetwise check and describe how you go about following the trail.]

[Private to Gangatsu; John Smith: It'll take you about an hour to get to the ranch on foot, half that on horseback.]

Wildcat takes to the streets after making sure Idjit will be fine for the time being, toting her Winchester and knuckle duster at the ready, quite sure that her questioning is likely to elicit the wrong kinds of attention from the wrong kinds of people.

The Ranger has an excellent idea of where to start looking for this loser, seeing as every town, even Blackthorn, has its share of losers who have nothing better to do than watch what goes on in their little slice of hell all day.  The drunk, the old, the housewives, the young, the infirm, people that most others ignore, they see and hear a lot and are generally home most of the time.  Some of them must have seen the shootout in the streets last night.

Failing that, she knows where these losers hang out now.  The Dust Adders won't give up one of their own, but it's not too hard to look around and figure out who's pissed off their store or house has to be across from their watering hole, especially when their store or house was there first.

And to find a woman jilted by a Dust Adder in Blackthorn would be a God send.  Wildcat checks any place where one of those losers might try in vain to sew his seed.

OOC: 18:15, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 10,5 using 1d6+2,1d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of (6+2)8,3. Streetwise.

[Private to The Stray: OOC:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v...&feature=related]

As Wildcat explores the town, it become more apparent to her that it's dying. once past Main Street, it seems half the buildings have been boarded up, and there are vacant lots where houses have been torn down for firewood.

As she questions the residents about the Dust Adders, she gets a curious mix of reactions. A few people in town despise them, sure, and take any opportunity to rail against them, but it's less than she'd expect. Most see them as husbands, cousins, friends, neighbors -- local boys who've gotten mixed up in shady things, but aren't bad folks themselves.

Most of the vitriol centers on three names -- Gus Shaw, Nathanial Frost, and the Wendell Mining Company.

"If it weren't for Nathanial Frost, this would be a good town."

"Gus and Tex, they came back from the Rail Wars changed. They got mean, them boys, and took all them others with 'em."

"Damn them Wendell Mining folk. If'n they hadn't of closed up shop and left us all to twist, them Dust Adders wouldn't be no bother to anyone but the cows."

As the day wears on, answers seem to get frustratingly few. No one admits to harboring an injured man, and even the ones who don't have anything nice to say about the Dust Adders (and are willing to talk, instead of saying they didn't want to get involved) haven't seen hide nor hair of him.

A name keeps getting mentioned...an old prospector by the name of Gabby. "Talk to Gabby, he might know." seems to be a common refrain. "Gabby's heard everything 'round here."

Gabby tends to spend the day panning the creek outside of town, then coming in and spending what silver or gold dust he gets on liquor, food, and fine feather beds.

Of course, it could just be simpler to try and physically examine the shootout area, and see if any clues remain. If the man isn't being hid by someone, there's still quite a few empty houses someone could squat in, or he could have hightailed it back to the Ranch.

[[OOC: Which do you want to do? Do you want to talk to Gabby [which will take out outside of town] or examine the area around the theater [which will require a Tracking roll]?]]

OOC:  Actually I'd like to do both but I guess one has to come first.

Wildcat returns to the area around the theater and plies her luck at figuring out where he could have gone.  This Gabby feller sounds right interesting, but the theater's closer.

08:42, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 5,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,4. tracking roll.

[[OOC: Indeed.]]

A little mood music

Wildcat reaches the area around the theater, and though the day is beginning to get busy, she can still follow some parts of the trail.

It looks like the wounded man crawled under the boardwalk, and lay there a while if the blood stains are anything to judge by. Then he crawled away. There's a bit of confusion, as he crawls through an area with more blood on the walls...that must be where Robert was shot last night, and there's hoofprints and lots of disturbance.

However, she still manages to make out a trail, heading for the back door of the theater.

The trail sharply changes, moving away from the theater. If the man was moving on his own power when he arrived at the theater, he's not doing so when he left...there's another set of footprints, and the weight distribution has changed. Looks like he was dragged.

The drag marks lead across a couple blocks. There's something odd about the marks, but Wildcat isn't sure what.  The dragging finally ends at the back of a boarded-up home. The rear door is closed, but the trail stops there.  There's a faint smell, like rotten meat, coming from somewhere, and the buzzing of flies...

In reply to The Stray (msg #30):

Kat slings the rifle across her back and pulls the Peacemaker out of its holster.  Leaning right up against the house, she circles its perimeter carefully, not really trying to avoid being seen, but rather highly suspect of what might be inside and taking note of where all the points of egress are.  Even though the house is boarded up, it's likely any other points of entry used lately won't be sealed.  She listens carefully, trying to determine if anyone's home, not really sure what to make of this other than it isn't good.

Aside from the back door, all the windows and doors have been boarded up and are secure. It's not a large house to begin with, only twenty by twenty feet.

From inside, she can hear a faint voice.

"Thirsty...thirsty...thirsty..."

In reply to The Stray (msg #26):

Robert heads out to questions the witnesses

[Private to GM:
Robert is not only going to question the witnesses, but going to do some subtle politicing.  He's going to talk about the gunfight as if they Dust Adders were driven from the town with their tails between their legs.  They didn't kill anyone, "these are just a few screatches", and lost a few members of their own, plus there's a Ranger in town now.  Times they are a'changin...

So, staring from that idea, "We done whipped those Dust Adders good, time to make them pay in court, just, for the record, what will you say when you are asked to testify about the man who tried to kill the Town Marshal?"

13:34, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 6,7 using d4+4,d6+4, rerolling max with rolls of 2,3. WC.
13:33, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 5,5 using d4+4,d6+4, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. streetwise.

a 7, a basic success
blech, toss a red
13:34, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 10 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+4)10. red.

yeah baby
17!!

by my notes, I had WRRBB, now I have RBB?
]

In reply to The Stray (msg #32):

OOC:  Damn you Heroic Hindrance!  But you're still my favoritest hindrance of them all.

Kat calls out loudly.  "Texas Ranger!  Is there somebody in there!?"

She regrets the apparent thoroughness of the barricade as they're probably expecting somebody in through the back door, but whoever is in there dying of thirst probably needs help five minutes ago.  She makes her way toward the only point of entry that she believes is not otherwise sealed (although it's likely locked).

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #33):

Robert seeks out the four possible witnesses.

They seem to remember him from his first night in town. "Ah! The master of fundaments!" one calls him.

He speaks with each of them:

Mike: "Oh, so you're a deputy now? Well, I'll help as best I can, but I don't know how much help I'm gonna be. I was sitting with my back to the wall when the shootin' started. I saw Evans callin' someone out, and I know I recognized Nathanial Frost's voice. I also heard someone take a shot at Evans, so it was clearly self-defense. I'll say as much in court, but you'll have to guarantee them Dust Adders won't come after me after I done it."

Clem: "Hey! The man with the Ghost Rock! I done want to thank you for puttin' that in...I managed to snag it for myself. So yer takin' on the Dust adders? Well, I wish you luck with that, sir. And I did see Nathanial Frost out the window, reaching for his gun and boastin' about how he was goin' to take out the Marshal, and I'd gladly say as much to a judge if'n you can guarantee my safety afterward."

Dutch: "Well, sir, I will be honest. I was seated with my back to the window when the incident began, and I only saw the...incredibly large gentleman when he entered the Saloon. Though I do believe I heard someone call out for Nathanial Frost, and a reply to the affirmative, along with a promise to kill the Marshal, and I would be willing to testify to such in court."

Greg: "Hrumph. You again. You say you're takin' on the Dust Adders? What did I see? Well, I'll tell you, ever since Nathanial and them Shaw boys came back to town we ain't had nothin' but trouble, so I tell you what, I seen whatever you want me to have seen that will get Nathanial Frost swingin' from a noose. We good?"

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: Good to see you. Did your work place filters on your internet? Or did you just get buried by RL?]

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #34):

[[OOC: :D gotta love it...]]

More mood music.

The only reply to the Ranger's call is the man inside.

"Thirsty...need a drink...need a drink so bad...help me, please..."

The back door is nether sealed nor locked...it gives way with a shove. Luckily no one is waiting with a shotgun, but the interior is as dark and quiet as a tomb.

Wedged into the darkest corner is a huddled shape. "Thirsty...so thirsty..." it moans.

In reply to The Stray (msg #36):

"Sir, help is here, but is there anyone else inside?"

Wildcat thumbs back the hammer on the Peacemaker with her dominant hand, and draws and strikes a match with the other.