High Noon, April 10th, 1879. Beyond the Pale.

The dead man stirred.

The shadow that had once been Nathaniel Frost looked about the strange, twisted land, puzzled. It tried to comprehend the blood red sun that darkened the black sky, the blistering hot wind that chilled him so, the twisted trees that moaned and writhed against the breeze, the rumble of thunder from glowing storm clouds shaped like crying skulls.

Everywhere, there were crows. They stared at him.

Stare.

Stare.

Staaaaare.

The shadow that had been Nathaniel Frost picked up a rock and tried to throw it at one of the crows, but the stone only passed through it harmlessly.

So, lacking a better plan, the shadow set off across the blighted plain.

It could have walked for an hour, a day, or a thousand years, but eventually it reached a place that seemed familiar. It was a stream carving it's way across the endless miles of eternity. Across the stream was a hole in the earth. From the hole came a sound, like the rattle of a snake large enough to swallow the world.

The shadow forded the stream, which was made salty by the tears of the souls that had passed through it before as they wept for what they had lost. It climbed into the hole, and was swallowed by the darkness. Only the rattle guided the shadow's steps now.

Eventually there was a sensation of space, and the shadow that had once been Nathanial Frost knew that it had arrived at a destination.

You lied to me, it said to the darkness.

"̶You͜ b͟ro̵ke ̶t́h͢e ͠pact,͞" the darkness replied back. "Í w̢arned̸ ̶y͢òu o͝f̨ ̀the ̡co̡n̨se͢q̛uences̶ ơf se̶ęk̸i̵ng re̡v͠e͢ǹge. You͠r f̴a̷il̡ure͜ t͜ó ̷up̷hol͝ḑ ͞o̷u͝r͝ ba͝rgai̧n͘ ̷wa͘s no̵t ͘m̶y͟ ͡d̨o̸in͝g.̛"

What happens now? The shadow asked.

"An̶ ̵i͘nter̴e̛şti̢ńg q͞uesti͘on." the darkness says. "M̨os̀t̕ wou̴ld p͟as͞s ̶on͝ t͞o th͝eiŕ ̧f̶in͜a͜l fa͠t̷e̷.̀ ͜I̷t ̶see̴ms Mictlántic͜h̢uţl̡i̶ has deem̧ȩd̵ you͢ u̸nw̵ort͘h̨y͞ ̸to ͘dò ̨th̴e ̧sáme.̀" There is a pause, and a sibilant chuckle. "A͞n̢d i͢t͞ seems̡ I ̷m̵a̧y͝ ̵hav̧e ̷a ͟us̀e͟ f̕or̷ you͘r s͞òul̶ af́te̶r áll."

What do you mean?

"I͡ sense ͜a d͞anger͢ to̧ my ̛d̷esígn͝s. It͘ w͟o͟uld b̨e̸ ̢us͠ȩfu̕l t̀o m͝e tǫ ̸se̢n͢d sòmęt͡hing̢ ̶t͢o ̧pro͟tect t̛hęm.̡ Tha̧t ͢job co͞uld ̕be̴ ͠y̡ou͞r̕s̡."

And if I refuse to play your games?

"I ͞devo͜u̧r̸ y̸òu."

Not much of a choice, is it?

"You͜ ent͝e̵red my ̧l̢a̕ir͝, ͝l̵iţţl͡e sh̴adow.͟ ̴Wh͘a͜t̵ ͢did ͘you͢ think͢ ̶w̶a̸s͠ g̨oing͠ to ̀ha͠pp͜en?"

The shadow was silent for a moment.

Fine. I'll be your errand boy.

"Spl̵end́id. N̕o̴w,͢ ho̸ld́ still..."

And a transformation took place. It could have lasted seconds, hours, or days...who could say?

Meanwhile, back in the gully...
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:14, Thu 14 Oct 2010.

The echoes died away.

Well, that corpse wouldn't be rising again in a hurry. And Nate would never hang.

Carl's eye lights on Charging Bear, and for a moment there's such a cold, angry contempt for the Law, outsiders, Charging Bear and possibly the world it seems like the cowhand's about to snarl. He just spits off to the side, tension leaving his frame as he paces to check on Ward and Augustus.

He catches Augustus' eye and jerks his head slightly at the body in a mute request to watch it. Then, unless Ward is up to ordering otherwise, he moves a little stiffly down the gully to whistle out/collect anyone still hiding in the foliage.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:05, Thu 14 Oct 2010.

Charging Bear has watched the whole thing, unable to do anything, almost not wanting to. He respected the ideals of dueling enough and knew better than to interfere with such things. The aftermath, well that was something best left between Carl and the now dead Nathanial Frost.

Putting away his blade, he slowly walked over to Frost's body and bend down over the man. Muttering a few words in his native tongue to see the man's soul into the world beyond, Charging Bear never liked to see the dead go unushered into the here after. He did feel pretty certain that  Frost was going to the Place of Bad Spirits, where Frost would always scream in torment, but regardless the man deserved someone to say words over him.

[[OOC: I'm assuming Augustus helps Ward out, so I can move things along.]]

The Dust Adders emerge from their cover, hats held across their chests in respect for the dead. They gathered around their fallen comrade once Charging Bear was finished saying his words, and gathered the body up in the blankets of the camp.

Ward, with Augustus' help, tends to his wounds with the field kit from his saddlebag. Luckily, the bullet only grazed him, so all it took was a bandage, some water, and help getting his arm in a sling. Then Ward takes a look at the bumps and bruises Charging Bear sustained, offering some painkillers and admonishing him to take it easy for the next couple of days.

[[OOC: Your bumps and bruises are all treated, so you are no longer Exhausted or Fatigued, though you're probably still very sore.]]

A few drops of rain drizzle down.

"Well. All that is left now is to return the late Mr. Frost to his relations in town." Ward says. "Carl, I would like you to deliver my personal apologies to Marshal Evans over this entire incident, as well as my assurances that such horrible misconduct will never occur again if I am in a position to prevent it. The rest of you may either accompany me and Mr. Spotswood back to the house, or accompany the deceased to his final rest. Either way, you are excused from your duties for the rest of the day, and I will pay what I owe once we have returned to the ranch."

He waits for responses from the assembled group.

Charging Bear watches the Adders deal with their fallen leader. He accepts Ward's help but say little to nothing. Taking a moment to linger behind, Charging Bear will pick up Frost's carbine if none of the others had already done so. His face wears a somber look, his mind else where perhaps. He will follow wherever Frost's corpse is taken as he wishes to make sure certain events occur.

Carl nods to Ward and turns to consult with the hands. Mike notices the bloom of blood appearing from beneath the lapel of Carl's duster but Carl waves him away to go find his damn carbine. Nothing a little whiskey won't help. Carl nearly smiles - he knows just where to get it, too. He'll ask Ward a little thing on the way back, take the boys into town and do a little drinking at the Grand Bull.

Those as were barred can go down and wait at the Red Eye. It'll be real polite, real quiet, and they'll drink through as much as Roland's stock as cattlehands with a day off and five generous friends now possessing $40 apiece are wont. It won't be payin' for the damage - no Dust Adder ever did that - but it'll be something. Something right. Evans'll probably be there if his office's blown, too.

Then they can move on down to the Red Eye and get truly banjaxed. Carl is reminded he meant to look in on Thingy. Will have to do that first. Can pay respects at Underhill's, poor Dog Charlie and Luke.

[[OOC: apologies for epic post of epicness (is it me or do I type more for the silent guy than Alouette?) thought I'd let y'all know what he means to do, in case plot needs ushering or/and someone finds Alouette in its field.]]


Carl's body language is enough to let his friends know he has a Plan - those out here at least will trust him enough to follow. As they make their signs of assent (or otherwise) to whatever he's thinking and saddle up, Carl leans down, wincing a little, and cuts the flashy buckle from Frost's hatband.

Soon the hat and a patch of reddish spill beginning to diffuse in the rain is all that marks where the duel took place and a man was killed.

One of the Dust Adders approaches Charging Bear.

"That there's my rightful property, pardner." he says, indicating the carbine and lighting a cigarette. He leans against a tree, waiting for a reply.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Thu 14 Oct 2010.

Augustus is no field doctor.  Gunplay and ambushes are still very new to him.  The shocking finality of the duel seemed to take the wind out of him. He does do his best to assist Doctor Ward in taking care of his wounds and Charging Bear's scrapes, but seems to be a bit stiff and taken aback.  All this blood, pain, shooting, and death...  He's just a scientist after all.  His coughing once again catches up to him, wracking his body, though he tries to keep it quiet.  Once mostly clear of his fit, he wipes his face lightly and asks, very gently, "I...  I...  I think I would like to see your scientific demonstration now...  Doctor.  Something a little more within my purview."

The posse turns back towards the ranch house. It drizzles sporadically on the return trip, which takes about an hour and a half. Bruise-colored clouds creep closer, smudging the horizon with distant rain.

Once at the house, Ward doles out the promised reward, and the Dust adders are given leave to head off to town, accompanied by the deputy.

However, there's a brief bit of commotion as Mike and Percy stumble over the bullet-ridden hulk of Alouette.

Ward sighs at these discoveries. "Such a waste." He mutters, examining the dented clank after it's brought to the porch. "This is Gus's doing, I'll warrant." He looks to Augustus. "Do you think you can restore our friend Alouette to working order?"

There is no mention made of Danny's corpse.

This was because there was no sign of it there, only a trail of blood leading off into the plain...

Alouette seems to have been beaten about the head with some blunt object, then shot twice in the torso, one bullet passing straight through and miraculously missing everything most volatile. There's no light in the thing's lenses and the boiler seems to have shut itself down under emergency conditions, leaving the clank as cold and inanimate as any other lump of metal.

Carl swings by the bunkhouse to recruit any boys who were on predawn shift who want to come. The injun is lent a horse and Frank'll swap his tired steed for another if Charging Bear accepted a lift back from the gulley.

Carl will then go on into town with several of the gang. A solemn ride. He'll rein in wherever it is Charlie's woman's living first, even if that means taking a long way around town not to pass the undertaker's beforehand. It won't hurt for people to see the Dust Adders and a deputy with a body.

He'll dismount there, with those that knew Charlie best, and signal the others to go on ahead unhurried-like with the bundle of bloodied blankets - the groups'll rendezvous at the undertaker's. CB will encounter less hostility riding down to Underhill's, but no-one will stop him doing as he wants. A small huddle of hat-doffed men at his back, it remains for Carl to knock on Thingy's door. He's still trying to remember her name.

*knoknok*
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Fri 15 Oct 2010.

Charging Bear tosses the other man the carbine, "Just didn't want such a fine weapon to be left to waste." He pauses, "Speaking of..." and goes to see about getting the sonic stunner. He will return the contraption to Augustus and inform both Augustus and Dr Ward that he'll be heading back into town to see about things.

OOC: Been a busy day with the wife before she heads out to California for a work conference.

By the time they get to town, the rain has started in earnest.

A few of the Dust Adders peel off and follow Carl to comfort Charlie's widow, but most of them accompany Nathanial's body to the Undertaker's place. Charging Bear is along with them.

They knock on the door. The reedy undertaker cracks it open, and peers out at the assembly. "Can I help you folk?" he asks.

The Dust Adders Push Charging Bear to the forefront...he's the deputy, after all. In their mind's his job to start making the arrangements.

---

The door opens. A tow-headed child, about 13 years old, looks up at him. Tim. He smiles.

"Hi Carl!" he squeaks, then heads back into the house. "Mommy! Mommy! Carl's here! Maybe he can tell us why Daddy's late!"

At the sight of the heavily damaged machine man, is forced to blink back tears.  People being ambushed, shot, and executed might stun and fluster him, but the sight of the beautiful one-of-a-kind machine brings him to the brink of grief.  He barely hears the Doctor's question of whether or not he can repair Alouette as he moves to the crunched brass body.  He carefully begins to check it over, using his previous repair work to make his asessment.  Shaking his head, he mutters, "Oh my... Such craftsmanship...  Such damage...  Hush, you don't know its gone...  There see...perhaps nothing vital was damaged...  Yes, a safety measure...  No...stop...it may not be dead and stop thinking so negatively...  I'm not even sure it /can/ die..."

The only words he would offer to other humans would be to ask for assistance in carrying the broken machine entity to the workshop.  Other than that, the scientist mutters mostly to himself...or perhaps to Alouette...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Sat 16 Oct 2010.

[[OOC: Augustus, make me a Repair Check, at -3 due to Alouette's wounds. You can make as many rolls as you like, but each check will take d4 hours.]]

The scientist goes to his gentle work, trying to bring the machine back to...conciousness?  sentience?  life?  He isn't sure what to call it, but hopes desperately for it.

OOC - First check was a 9 that takes 1 hour.  2 "wounds" healed?

In reply to Augustus Spotswood (msg #16):

[[OOC: It removes the Incapacitation and removes 1 wound. There are 2 wounds left.]]

In reply to The Stray (msg #17):

OOC - Confusingly, the next 8 hours net 1 more success....  Augustus will be at this for a while...  So 9 hours of work, will get Incap cured, and two "wound" levels.  Wow...

[[OOC: Or you could spend a Chip on that roll you failed. You have 3 blue chips available]]

In reply to The Stray (msg #19):

I did try a Redchip re-roll...  I would like to Blue Chip one come to think of it.  I just kept thinking, I can do better than that...  So, Blue chip...nets a success.  So, he spends the day and patches Alouette back up to operational status?

In reply to Augustus Spotswood (msg #20):

Yes. Just keep in mind, you didn't have any Red Chips at the start of the new session...you had three blue. nevermind. My notes were wrong.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:32, Sat 16 Oct 2010.

Before her departure of the unlucky bot, she put one of the rabbit feet she had into the wounded clank's chest cavity, maybe it'll bring some future luck for the thing, hell knows she wasn't going to be able to save it nor drag it everywhere with her. So on she pressed with the brute, Gus Shaw.

The rain is coming down in big thick spatters like the tears of a weeping Jesus as Gus and Gangatsu travel across the top of the gulch. Below them, the creek is beginning to run a bit faster. The rain alternates between quiet weeping and thunderous sobs, but after an hour and a half of travel it really doesn't matter, as both travelers are soaked through


Gatsu felt the weight of her clothes, the fabric sticking to her skin. It was the wrong day to be wearing a thigh slit yakuta and leggings, but at least she didn't have the excess of fabric hidering her motivements, like the one she lost on Danny's corpse. She eyed the river as they approached it. " Dis da only way cross?"

"The Comanche ain't near town." Gus said. "They're perched west along the creek, just a stone's throw from the edge of the Doc's property markers. You want to head to town, we gotta ford the creek and head North, or go back the way we came. Make up yer damn mind, woman."

" Eh." She grunted, glancing at him impassively, though he was abit irksome to deal with. " Nuthin o da sort, just didn't know where to. Ya gunna act like a stick in da ass the whole way d'ere?"


"Yeah, you ain't no sweet, delicate flower yerself, woman." Gus shoots back. "I don't know why someone ain't slapped that mouth off o' you yet for all yer backtalk."

 She nearly rolled her eyes to the stormy heavens at her damn luck. " Really? What, ya wanna check mefer a dick? "  She growls at the challenge of her womanhood. " Any bastard tries smackin me's gunna pull away a stub. No point ta bein sweet d'hen, now is d'here?"


"And you wonder why folks don't treat you like a lady."  He grumbles.
 " Bah. Suits meh fine." She retorts just as quickly

 "Look, I wann get out o' this rain fer a spell. I figger we ain't too far from the entrance to the old mine." He peers off into the distance. "You wanna keep marchin' for the Comanches, pretty soon you'll be floatin' there. How's about it? find shelter? wait fer the storm to die a bit?"

Her hat was taking most of the rain, but the straw could only keep out so much before her wet hand had to wipe off her face a bit.  He starts talkin about - A ol' mine? Could it be the mine shaft that danny spoke of? At times like that, she was glad her pettite stature and hat kept her face covered cause maybe, just maybe she could find an item from the spell the union boy said they used to keep them in place. Perhaps she would get a little kick in the right direction. It was close to the Commanche boarders and the ranch as well. Then again, it might just be a shallow cove.. To early to tell. " Yeah.. Thinkin yer right about that..."

Part 2 of Gus and Gangatsu:

Gus points out a spot on the side of the creek opposite them. With the rain, it doesn't look like more than a smudge against the horizon, a dark blur. "There. In the gultch face. See it?"


She lifted her coolie a little and  took a few brisk steps forth, her brow narrowing slightly.  " Hides in well wit da land.. Looks like a shadow."


"It's just a hole now." Gus says. "Used to be a whole mess of equipment here, but then the mine closed." He leads her down to the creek bed. "Well, I hope you can swim. Or, if'n you like, I can toss ya."


 Hmm, that's too bad.. Is it the mine that closed down, or.. That's right, the mine could have be destroyed in the escape or even to cover up the tracks. But.. Least it's a spot that she could come back to if things don't work out. "Dammit.." She looked tohe water and then to  shore before taking off her coolie, the rain hitting her nigrescent hair, loose strands weighted down by water. " Nah. I'll swim fer it." She picked up her katana from her hip and held it firmly.

  She took her coolie and took of her sandals, placing it into her bag, hooking it closed and shifting it to sling the rope across her chest and setting the bag on her hip. She took in a deep breath and shifted her hips like a cat getting ready to pounce before a foot flew out and she gave a quick burst of a run and dove into the water. Later surface a yard away, but she was swimming strong against the swift current and the ice-like chill biting her skin. She made it to the shallow end and dragged herself out on hands and knees, taking a few deep breaths before looking over for the redneck.

Gangatsu rolls a 3. Adds a blue chip and rolls a 15 for total of 18 on Swim.


Gus, meanwhile, was doing a dogpaddle across the rushing creek, but he was moving across it nonetheless. he's over and across just behind her.

Gus rolled a 16 on Swim.


 She took a moment to rest from the swift river, her heart pounding a little and she shook a bit from the cold and perhaps the dislike of the filthy water that left her bright scarlet yakuta a clay red color. " S-shit.."


"HOO-ah!" Grus crows as he steps out of the water. "THAT will wake a guy up in the morning!" He wastes no time making for the Mine entrance, which, now that they are closer, is much easier to see.


 A shake of her head at his outburst, but the man was a walking tank when it came to feeling anything she supposed. To her a strong chill, to him a brisk dose of spring water. Damn. What would he need to go to a cove for except to check his gun powder. Ha, good luck cracking a bullet at her, she supposed. She got up from the bank and hugged herself, squinting slightly from the rain water. She followed after him, shivering and slightly blind in the drizzle.


 The mine snakes down into the darkness, but the pair don't need to go nearly that far to get out of the whipping rain. Gus pulls a few boards up from a platform near a mine cart, and goes about making a fire. His matches are soaked, but he's not that bad at making fires all "injun style". It's not long before a cozy flame is crackling away.


 She ploped her bag down and set her katana in reach, leaning it against the wall. Green eyes looked over the tunnel and a sharp crack as Gus went to work on a fire. She let down the long jet hue hair and started to ring it outscooping off as much as she could. Given the length of her yakuta and the man was busy, she was removing the leggings to do the same to them, letting out a large wet plop on the cave floor.


 Once the fire is going, Gus, without any sense of shame whatsoever, begins stripping off his wet clothes, starting with his shirt and working his way down.


She had a bit more moderation, she had no modesty in her actions, words, nor to put on a performance, but she'll take it off for only long enough to get the water out.. " Heh. Yeah, Gus, take it off." She spoke evenly through a monotone, a mock chuckle bubbled up.


Gus turns, standing proud. "Take a good, long look, girl, and be amazed!" The man is quite brawny with some flab around his gut and limbs.


She shook her head at him, with a brief once over, with a mortal curiousity.  A slight smile perked the corner of her lips at his bravado. " Oh. Yeah. Yer sumptin' else.. Dun't know wut.." She spoke carelessly turning her back to him. " So.. What.. This the mine that nearly took the blood outta Blackthorn."


 Gus takes a seat with a hard look and a crude comment growled out. "This mine was the blood of Blackthorn. Then it began to dry up a bit, and then there was the cave-in that killed a dozen people. After that, the Wendell people pulled up stakes and left."


Gangastu was trying to milk what bit of the water in her shirt out. From the sleeves andn the unfixing the soaking thick obi as to wring it out, water ploping outbefore she cast it near the fire. Sliping out one arm at a time, she was able to keep it taut and a good little divider from her cotton rich undergarment.Wringing out  the material at least before slipping one arm in and oing the same for the other. The back was still holdign a damp streak, but it was better then walking around with water-making-sheer panties and bra. Wrapping the front closed like a robe, Gangatsu heads over to the only source of light and heat. She knelt down and eased to the floor her blade prone and at the ready by her side, away from Gus.


Gus gives her a leer as she plays with her shirt, but doesn't make any ungentlemanly moves.

She eyed him for a moment, there was something wrong with his face and the way he looked her over. Was she bleeding? She looked down and checked her thighs a little after she was seated down. No. Least there was nothing sharp to have sliced her. Shoulders jitter slightly as she rubs her hands against her legs. Just as she did with the rabbit foot she had, but this time just trying to increase the blood flow and friction to warm up her skin. Her gaze raised occasionally to Gus, her toes felt like they were burning as the cold and heat conflicted with one another on her senses.

" Ain't ya cold? It's almost as bad as being out in da rain in 'ere." She shifted her rump on the cold floor and turned a bit so her side could get a little warmth, her shirt shifting open as she crossed her arms against her stomache to rub it.

The normally stoic Dust Adder pales and looks back at Mike beside him in horror. They didn't know? Carl silently curses the out-of-towner undertaker with all the vilest things that come to mind and motions Mike and Dave to go on and meet whatshername...damn blank...Danielle before she comes out. Himself, he stops the kid by laying a hand on his shoulder, meets that questioning glance that's just beginning to suspect something's wrong.

Carl hears Jesse shuffling about behind him, not sure what to do. He gently turns the boy to face him properly, sets his free hand on Tim's other shoulder and goes to one knee to be nearer his height. God, he looks like Charlie. Carl meets his eyes, lets him read it in his face.

"..."

He keeps Tim's gaze until he's sure he understands. Then, because his heart isn't wholly made of flint and he can't bear to see dawning comprehension take the light from the boy's face, Carl carefully draws him into a hug, careless of his injured shoulder. It's the most contact he's had with the boy, and every movement and every fibre of him carries the message 'I'm so sorry, kid.'

[[OOC: Done over IM]]

"I know ways of warming us both up" Grus grinned, ogling Gangatsu's open shirt.

She looked unamused and shifted a little from some jitters. "Fooled me, I thought a fire was it."

"Fire's one thing. It's a source o' warmth, but to really get the blood pumping, one's gotta move...You know...get bodies cuddling together, friction heating things up..."

A brow perks, her aloof demeanor faulting a bit with some surprise and looked like she was going to say something, then thought against that. There were no voices, no sense of danger, was...this a challenge to fight? That might be interesting, yet his next comment seems to beat that to the dust and she laughed, dark and ominous in it's numb world. "You wily fucker..."

"I am at that. So, whadda ya say? Live a little until the rain dries up?"

Live a little...she was alive...Yes, and how long will that last on a girl with a death wish? He wasn't a bad looking man and he somehow hadn't called her anything by her race. Shifting forth to her feet, she easy got up and moved over toward him.

Rolling the yakuta off, eying him for a moment with amusement in her gaze as she unhooked the wet cotton brazier in the back and tossed it aside. Her thumbs hooked in to the rim of her cotton garments, lowered them down her thighs til she stepped out of them and brought herself down to straddle his lap.

"If I'm cold after, I'm gunna put my little fist in your face." So causally stated. Suffice to say, she snuggled a bit against his chest.

[[OOC: Fade to black...]]

In reply to Carl (msg #25):

"no..." The kid says as he begins to weep.

By this time, Danielle had wade her way to the door. Her eyes were sunken and raw. She already knew.

Jesse scuffed his boot against the ground again, talking time to have a really good look at those boots.  He considers how nice new boots might be, but then again he'd have to just break them in...  He just concentrates on boot-think.  Anything to distract from that boy and his momma's hurt.

Sniffing a bit, he glances off anywhere else and spits long stream of tobacco juice.  Uncomfortable, he hitches up his belt and checks the settle of his gun in the holster.  He even blinks a bit at something.  Probably just some dust in his eye...

Carl holds the boy until his frame relaxes, but doesn't let the sobbing get too far. Pulling away, the cattlehand's calloused fingers brush the tears from Tim's face, not ungently. He shakes his head, holds the boy's gaze and lifts the kid's chin a little. "..."

Carl nods back at the boy's mother, not looking away from Tim, then curls a fist to his chest. "..." The Dust Adder offers the boy his hand to shake if it's agreed, man to man.

Tim sniffles, but he nods and takes Carl's hand.

"Charlie was a hell of a good man." Dave says to Danielle. "A hell of a man. And don't you worry none. We'll make sure the varmint that took him from ya lives to regret it. I guarantee that."

Carl gives it a firm shake then lightly squeezes the boy's shoulder and gestures for him to fetch his coat. Straightening, he gives Dave a look to remind him they have to apologise to the Marshal first, but nods to Danielle in confirmation. The man'd live all right. Wishing he hadn't.

Carl takes Danielle's hand and presses it briefly between his own, then nods his head slightly at outside in invitation to come with them. Going or staying, he'll let her greet/get Jesse's condolences and wait for the boy to return weatherproofed.

He'd stared down death this morning. Somehow it was so much easier than trying to stare down grief.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:49, Sun 17 Oct 2010.

In reply to The Dust Adders (msg #13):

Charging Bear looked at the undertaker, "Need to make arrangement for this dead man." He pointed back to the body that the Dust Adders were carrying.  "Might we come in?" The native son paused as the rain fell upon his head and looked up letting it hit him full in the face. After a moment, he brushed the water from his face and looked back at Undertaker.

OOC: Not sure of the time here.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #32):

[[OOC: It's about 2 in the afternoon.]]

"Well, business has certainly been good this week!" The thin undertaker chirps.  "Yes, why don't you all come in out of the rain. Wouldn't want you to catch your deaths of cold, now would we?" He chuckles at his poor joke as he opens the door wider. The Dust Adders glare at him, and he swallows. "I'm sorry. That was in poor taste. Please, forgive the off-color comment."

The ranch hands file in to the room, carrying the body. Underhill goes to a ledger and picks up a quill. He motions for Charging Bear to join him. "Well, let's not waste any time. Was there any identification with the deceased? Has the next of kin been asked to identify the dearly departed yet?"

He'd expected the question, but still it hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. Charging Bear looked over body. "No need to call in next of kin, the deceased was Nathaniel Frost." Charging Bear lets that sink in for a moment, "These gentleman and myself would appreciate it if you would treat his remains with respect."

Turning back to the Dust Adders, "I'm going to see about telling his family now. Beside Roland, is there anyone else?"

The quill drops from Underhill's fingers. He looks at Charging Bear in naked shock. "Really? I mean, are you certain about that?"

He goes over to the wrapped body, and pulls the blankets back. "Oh...oh my..." He gurgles. "Please...excuse me..." He rushes into the back.

The youngest of the Adders--Percy, Charging Bear thinks his name is--nods. "There's Audrey, and Old Man Frost. I think Roland should be the one to break the news to them, though...Old Man Frost doesn't like any of us."

In back, an urgent retching can be heard.

Charging Bear nods, "Thanks Percy. Now you all should clear out, I'm sure Evans isn't happy with any of you at this point.  I'll take care of talking with Roland and make sure Nathanial is see to properly."

Percy glares at him. "Where do you get off ordering us around, Cherokee? If it weren't for us, that monster would have taken your head off! Did you forget that you owe us?"

"Peace, kid." Little Tom says, resting a hand on Percy's shoulder. "don't go shouting. Ain't worth it. Besides, we gotta go meet up with Carl and the others."

"We got some business with the undertaker yet." Another Dust Adder mumbles. "Got to ask after our friends what got killed last night."

Charging Bear looks at Percy, the native son's eyes give him a cold stare. "I'm a deputy in this town... thats why I get to order you around Percy. I've little doubt that there's a price on all your heads even if you weren't part of last night's mess."

He shifts his gaze to the other Adders, "See to you're friends and go. As my gratitude to Carl for what he did, I won't mention you all are in town. But if you start trouble... then all bets are off."


OOC:
18:31, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,1 using 1d4-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 3,3. Intimidation.
18:32, Today: Charging Bear rolled 5,1 using 1d4-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of (4+3)7,3. Intimidation (White Chip).

Catching Carl's silent, meaningful, commanding glance, Jesse lifts a brow and screws up his face a little in thought.  Like this is just something he might want to buck against.  Makes him downright uncomfortable, no doubt.  But, with another spit, he reaches up to drag off his hat and step forward.  He does his level best to look church-going solemn as he looks to the missus, "Ah'm terrible sorry, ma'am.  Charlie wuz a good'un...  Its just shit the way he was done...  Just some damn shit...um...ma'am."  Without waiting to see the effect of his words, he turns away again and pulls his hat back on his head.  There, he did it.

[Private to The Stray: Allright, I'll fess up.  I have no idea who Charlie is or what's going on.  If Augustus wasn't there...  I wasn't watching....  SHAME.  Can ya clue me?]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:14, Mon 18 Oct 2010.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #38):

"Yeah. You go on throwin' your weight around, Deputy." One of the men shoots back. "See where it gets ya in the end."

"You think you're such hot stuff? We ain't afraid o' Marshal Evans. Evans don't have the men to take on all o' us if we really set our minds to gettin' him gone. Hell, Marshal Evans don't have the balls to stand up to us."

There's a cough from the back door. Underhill steps back into the room, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. "Gentlemen," he says, "This isn't the place for such hostility. Please. Respect the rest of your companion."

There's a general rumble among them, but it subsides. They gather around a coffin, doffing hats and looking down at the corpse within.

"Poor Charlie." Little Tom murmurs, to the agreement of the rest.

"You did well, Underhill." Percy says. "Can we see Luke now?"

Underhill looks confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"Luke. The other one o' our boys who didn't make it back. Where is he?"

"I'm really not sure what to tell you."

"Sir, we ain't no faintin' womenfolk. Whatever he looks like, we can take it."

"Or has he already been buried?"

Underhill begins to sweat. He edges closer to Charging Bear, as if he wants to duck behind the large Cherokee if his answer causes a riot. "Um, gentlemen, this body was the only one that's been delivered to me today. There wasn't any others."

Carl gathers all together and herd/leads them down to Underhill's en route to the Grand Bull, making sure Mike and Jesse escort Danielle like she was the Queen of Spain - heads up, proper-like, a led horse on either side. Tim's doing his level best not to cry, not that anyone'd see in this rain...a good kid, that.

They reach the coffin-strewn porch of the undertaker's establishment in time to hear the murmurs of consternation from the Adders within still going on from Underhill's most recent pronouncement. Carl frowns slightly, then signs anyone who wants to come in can (that is, leaving it to Danielle as to how much she wants her son to see) and steps up, the thud of his boots the only announcement of his presence. It's enough.

Carl raises an eyebrow at Underhill as he removes his hat. Deputy's bristling like a wet dog - what's going on?

Charging Bear gives the Adders their moments, knowing they're far more hot tempered than smart. He noted each's weapon and took his time to study them for any potential weaknesses... slight limp, a twitch, anything that might give him a later advantage. The native son felt like kicking himself for not surveying them before, but no time like the present.

OOC: Notice to spot anything, Fighting to figure out how to use it.
10:01, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,1 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,1. Notice.
10:01, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,9 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,(6+3)9. Notice (WC).
10:02, Today: Charging Bear rolled 7,4 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,4. Fighting.

A Charging Bear surveys the growing crowd in the Undertaker's office, the situation grow more and more grim. There were 6 Dust Addders with him before, but with the group that just arrived out of the rain there's now 10 Dust Adders in and around the shop. Ten-on-one odds are bad for anyone. Most of the Dust Adders are armed with pistols and Bowie knives. there's a certain saving grace in that the shop is crowded with so many people...he could probably make a decent stand if he flipped a table over and wedged himself in a corner, though that would leave the undertaker unprotected.

The best plan for a fight would probably be to break a window then hold the Adders off while the noncombatants ran out it. An even better plan would be to try and prevent a fight from breaking out in the first place.

"What the fuck do you mean, there ain't any other bodies here?" Maxwell shouts. "What's been done with Luke, you lily-livered son of a bitch!?"

Outside, hearing the shouting, Danielle tries to user her son away from the office, but the boy slips out of her grasp and wiggles through the doorway, to stare wide-eyed at the confrontation.

"Look, I don't know!" Underhill whimpers from behind Charging Bear. "That lady Ranger, she was running around town this morning asking after someone who got away from the shootout last night! He's probably in her custody! Go talk to her!"

Dave nudges Jesse. "Lady ranger?" he whispers to him. "You don't think it's that deputy what tried to get you hung, is it?"

[Private to GM: Todd, Maxwell, John, Carl, Jesse, Dave, Percy, Little Tom, Mike, and Frank are the Dust Adders in and around the shop.]

Charging Bear remains quiet, not wanting to escalate things more than his presence might have already. He smirks at the mention of a lady ranger arriving in town, Knowing my luck she'll be green as Augustus, but still any help with the present situation is most welcome. Then he notice the kid, Charging Bear's eyes narrowed and he let out a loud whistle.

Once he's gotten the Adder's attention he'll say,"I think we have family here who wish to pay respects..." and point out the boy.

[Private to GM: Wasn't looking to start a fight, more like anything that would help if one did break out or later down the road...]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:57, Mon 18 Oct 2010.

From across the street, underneath an awning, a trio of figures watches the crowd around the funeral parlor with interest.

"Well, that's a twist. Looks like the actual Dust Adders are around, kicking up a fuss."

"Ooooh! Mayhem! I wonder how much blood they're'll be!"

"It will be interesting, to say the least. But this is an opportunity, I think."

"Where are you going with this, McAvity?"

"Our benefactor wanted to make it look like the Ranger met her end dealing with Dust adders, yes? And now we handily have a passel of Dust Adders here kicking up a riot. One riot, one Ranger, they say. All we have to do is see to it the Ranger gets to her riot...then make sure she doesn't leave it."

"Delicious!"

"I don't like it. I wanted to be the one to take out the Ranger, not some grubby farm hands."

"And so you will be, Rum. Just get down there, merge with the crowd, and take your shot when the opportune moment presents itself."

"I like the way you think, McAvity!"

"I'll go fetch our target!"

"You do that, Jenny. Have fun!"

With that, the three figures split up, going about their tasks.

Carl nods to CB and gestures for the gang to settle, glancing at the tensed Charging Bear to see if the injun's about to go savage on them. There's a clear question along the lines of 'where?' in the look he gives Underhill.

If the Adders do come to heel, Carl'll beckon Tim over - never mind the once-man mess on the table, he'd seen worse younger than Tim to no ill effect - and nod down at the lad in request Charlie's coffin be pointed out.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #44):

[Private to Charging Bear: That's what I figured you were doing. I was just pointing out the options. Your success on the roll will probably be good for a +2 bonus to any Tricks or Test of Will you attempt, if you're looking for mechanical advantages.]

The Dust Adders seem to calm a little, especially once Carl takes charge of the kid.

Underhill, not being used to Carl-Speak, doesn't notice the significance of the glance he's given.

The Dust Adders move to let time through to Charlie's coffin.

With so much attention being focused inside the shop, no one notices an extra figure joining the crowd...

[[OOC: I kind of want to wait for Jesse to reply before going too much further...but Augustus' player usually posts at night or early in the morning on weekdays, so I'm playing it by ear.]]

The lack of reply was odd, but it wouldn't take long for one of the boys to ask anyway. As Carl walks with the kid, he wonders if it'd be worth sending a rider over to Luke's folks' place, see if anyone had taken him there...when you were bad hurt, felt like it could be dying, you just wanted to go on home.

Aw, Charlie... Poor Dog Charlie. Doesn't look bad. Carl looks back at Underhill whilst Tim bids his father farewell, indicates the body and mimes pulling on a hat with an inquiring look.

"?"

Jesse bristles at Dave's nudge, shoving back at the fellow Adder more roughly than necessary, "Shut yer fuckin' hole, Dave.  You don' know shit about it..."  Having lost his cool, he muscles his way back out past the other Adders to the porch.  He'll generally ignore the goings on with the family and deaths and everything.  All his thoughts are bent now on that damn law-woman.  A flood of anger at the old wound causes him to lash out at a porch post with a fist.  Bloodied, he draws it back and mutters, "Damn bitch..."

PMs

[Private to Jesse: Go ahead and make me a notice check, at -1 due to the distractions.]

Charging Bear watched Jesse, a slight frown touched his lips but disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. The native son moved through the Adders towards Carl and when he got to the 'defacto' leader Charging Bear simply nodded his head towards where Jesse had disappeared to, namely the porch.

Carl lets his hand slide from the boy's shoulder - not without a reassuring glance as Tim looks up - and goes to see what's going on outside.

Jesse's attacking the porch. Carl grimaces slightly, since he'd rather deal with a burro with a bee up its behind than a Jesse who hasn't been fed all day. It'd taken an eighteen-year-old Carl a broken arm to work out the link between Jesse being hungry and Jesse adding a barrelful of ornery to his usual powderkeg temper, (incidentally the same reason Jesse was shy of a left back tooth). Got to get him fed and them raw nerves smoothed down with liquor - trying to talk to him beforehand would be about as useful as chewing a brick, and Carl likes his teeth.

He looks back, loath to hurry Tim up, and steps away from the door a pace, gesturing to Charging Bear not to worry/interfere. He'll get this done as soon as possible...Carl gives an expectant look to the undertaker.

[Private to GM: chasing up that hat.]

"Where's this Ranger?" Little Tom asks.

"I don't know for sure. I think she was staying at the Grand Bull." Underhill says. "I think Marshal Evans was staying there, too, now that his office has been all blown up. There's been awful lot of Law Dogs staying there recently!"

Meanwhile, the boy is over at the coffin of his father, looking in and weeping quietly.

[[OOC: Going to let the scene between Carl and Jesse play out for a bit.]]

[Private to Carl: Now I'm confused. What hat is Carl trying to get, and why? Untangle the Carlspeak for me!]

Carl takes another couple of paces out.

*whi't!*

The short whistle should catch Jesse's attention. Carl stands ready to lean back if that attention comes with elbow included.

[Private to GM: Charlie's hat, if it's there...cowpokes in general seem somewhat superstitious, and with this lot it seems hat is to man as bell is to ship or sword is to samurai...Carl wants the hat to go straight to Tim before it's "dead"/unlucky.]

Charging Bear moves over to the little boy, he puts a strong hand on the lads's shoulder and holds out a handkerchief to him.

The tempermental young Adder turns back at the whistle, looking a might touchier for being whistled at like a dog.  "Fuck you want now, /Carl/?  I'm tired of this pansy shit...  Charlie gets hisself kilt and we gotta play nursemaid to his family...  Well, we got 'em here.  They seen he's really dead and gone.  Great.  Let's /go/."

Assuming the lad takes the offered handkerchief, Charging Bear will walks outside as a dozen people in a small space makes for a hot space.

[[OOC: Reposted from the other thread.]]

"Don't worry ma'am, they won't do anything when a grown up is watching."  She snarks.  Once she's sure the woman is off to the Grand Bull,  Wildcat hurries to the undertaker's.  She stops about a block short however and approaches walking at calm pace, both to appear more nonchalant and to catch her breath.

One riot, one Ranger she reminds herself as she walks in with the Winchester's barrel leaning over her shoulder.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:59, Wed 20 Oct 2010.

Already in a hyper-aware state, Charging Bear saw the woman moving down the block. Her dress reminded him of Ranger McAnalley but the signature fiery red hair of McAnalley was missing in this newcomer, replaced with dirty blonde locks. The white hat caused him to smirk.

Having already heard Jesse get hounded by his fellow Adders about a female Ranger showing him up, his right hand shifted down to get closer to one of his blades while his left almost absentmindedly hand touched the doll around his neck. He muttered, "One riot, one Ranger..."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:03, Wed 20 Oct 2010.

Carl nods, points down the street at the Grand Bull. He makes a slight downward gesture and hands Jesse a couple of dollars, then keeps eye contact awhile.

"..."
[Private to Jesse: Carl-translation, since Jesse knows him well: "Go on, then, but not rowdy - Danielle'll follow after, get a table and the first round in. You see any lawdogs you punch them as a private citizen - no gunplay, no risk to the gang. Not now. I can trust you, right? Go on.]

Carl taps his chest where a badge would be, then fractionally shakes his head, hand moving as though for a gun. If it looks safe to shake Jesse gently by the shoulder, he'll do that, showing trust by turning his back on the man, meeting others' eyes  and gesturing for Mike and Frank to follow on, Dave to go on down towards the Red Eye and...who the fuck?

Carl raises an eyebrow. His expression clearly says the out-of-towner's explanation for sniffing around this window and Dust Adder dead had better be good. Very good.

Wildcat stops a few paces short of the undertaker's shop to fish a cigar and a match out of her duster pockets.  Lacking the proper tool, she cuts the end off of the cigar with the long slender blade of her knife.  Taking a moment to establish a burn, she then proceeds.

One, two, three, four...  she counts them up in her head.  This wasn't really about an excuse to count them, or even intimidation, this was about posturing.  The cigar smoking was a show of masculinity and strength and conveyed a cool indifference, something she'd realized when she picked it up from the other recruits.

Katrina didn't really care for the things, but smoking one without coughing or wheezing sent a message to the easily impressionable.  Sometimes the low lifes will just go about their business with a hard, steely hateful glare at ya if you give them a chance to do it and save face.

The cigar was a tool.  It gave you a socially acceptable reason to have your hand near your shooting iron, provided you cradled the smoke between your fingers.  Posturing.

But with the Dust Adders, especially this many, that probably wasn't happening.  She steps forward with her duster peeled back revealing her gunbelt.

She looks at Jesse with a sweet smile, but addresses the assemblage.

"I'm figurin' you boys must have been on your way to church an' got lost."  She blew a ring.  Posturing.  And suspicious.  Was the woman just panicking and overreacting?  Possibly, but she needed to confront them anyway.  A message had to be sent to their handlers.

"I've had a complaint filed that there was some hell raisin' goin' on here, but it don't look like it.  Now I'm a fair type, what you boys got to say about that?"

Charging Bear watched being, the train wreck that was this Ranger come calling on the already rilled up Dust Adders. Ten on one weren't good odds for him and most likely weren't good odds for her. He paused and looked for something vastly important, a Ranger Badge, without it she was doing little more than blowing smoke literally and figuratively.

OOC:
14:56, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Notice.

Jesse tenses up a little bit more at Carl's silence, but he does relent.  This is Carl after all, so what'd he expect.  The money gets stuffed in a pocket quickly as he catches the rest of the silent message.  He sneers a bit, "Can't make no promises, Carl.  If'n I see that lady Ranger what done me wrong...  Well...  It ain't gonna be pretty.  Lets jes say that." Wonderful images of violent revenge and alcohol swirling in his head, the gunhand turns to head off to the Saloon.

Only to find himself face to face with /her/.  He stops cold.  He was already having an uncomfortable, frustrating day.  Now /her/.  Right there.  Right in front of him.  And she's already starting in with that smart mouth.  Jesse's lips pull into a cold sneer, "Hell raisin'?  We ain't done shit, Ranger.  You got nothin'.  We're being peaceable, so you can just back the fuck off or else somethin' bad might happen..."

OOC - 10 on Intimidate.  *bops himself to remind him that Jesse is an Extra.*  Or I can re roll it?

In reply to Jesse (msg #63):

"Like this!" says a thin, flamboyant figure in a wide-brim hat and a calico scarf, who uncurls himself from the side of the undertaker's place. His gun is already in motion, a huge LeMat that begins spitting lead death at the Ranger.

*BANG!*
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
*BANG!*

Then he smiles, tips his hat, and slinks off into the darkness, leading the lady ranger gasping and bleeding on the muddy street.

[[OOC: nah, it's ok. Right now Jesse and Carl are functioning as Wild Cards. however, Wildcat needs to roll Spirit to resist the Test of Wills, which right now has a good chance of leaving her Shaken at the start of this fight.

Rum Tum Tugger begins this fight On Hold. He quickdraws his LeMat and Fans The Hammer 6 times at Wildcat. He doesn't get The Drop on Wildcat, as she came into this expecting trouble, but he has both Quick Draw and Hip Shooting, which means he only has a -2 to his Fanning the Hammer move.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 11,5,5,4,1,1,1 using d8-2,d8-2,d8-2,d8-2,d8-2,d8-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of (8+5)13,7,7,6,3,3,3. Fanning the hammer! That's 4 hits, one with a raise. Ow.

1st hit: The Jellicle Gang rolled 11 using 3d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,5,3. Damage. Ow. Shaken and 1 Wound

2nd hit: The Jellicle Gang rolled 9 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+1)7. Ow. Shaken, or a wound if she's already shaken.

3rd hit: The Jellicle Gang rolled 13 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of (6+4)10,2. Ow. Shaken and 1 wound.

4th hit: The Jellicle Gang rolled 33 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of (6+4)10,(6+6+6+4)22. OWWWWWWW! Shaken and 6 wounds!

My suggestion? Spend a chip on the incapacitation roll...

After this act of perfidy, Rum runs down the ally, moving his pace of 6]]

---

Initiative for this round

Rum Tum Tugger: Already went
Wildcat Hawkins: No card this turn (post a reaction and draw a card for next turn, assuming you survive the lead salad)
Jesse: No card this turn (Post a reaction and draw a card for the next turn)
The Dust Adders: no card this turn
Carl: Queen of Spades
Charging Bear: 8 of Spades
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Thu 21 Oct 2010.

"Carl get that shooter." Charging Bear knew the Adders owed him nothign but if Ranger even a junior one dying with them near by won't do much for anyone in this town. He watched her fall and moved through the adders to get to her side.

Then it hit him The cigar! He'd seen field medics do it in the war, why not here. He grabbed the fallen stogy and took a couple of deep puffs to get the tip nice and hot. Quickly checking to see if the main shot had gone through and through, the native son jabbed hot cigar into the exit wound to cauterize it.

OOC: Playing my Action card
4C - Hot Iron and Whiskey
“Here, bite on this.”
Play on a wounded character. That character has ONE wound healed, but gains a permanent scar.
Roll on the Injury Table in the Savage Worlds core book for location. The character gains a –1 to charisma if the scar is visible.

This action will definitely depend on if Wildkitten survives or not I suppose.

22:46, Today: Charging Bear drew the single card: JC using a deck of 54 cards.  init.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:47, Thu 21 Oct 2010.

The hell he does!  The Hawkins in her won't let Wildcat go down nearly that easy.

20:19, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 2,2 using 1d6,1d8, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2. Spirit Roll for Test of Wills.

Warning: this is long, but since it could kill me, and it relies on using a lot of different rules, a lot of explanation was necessary.

Wildcat has exactly one thing going for her: she's Hard to Kill.

I am going to do something bold here.  I'm going to attempt to be still standing at the end rather than just try to head off all that damage!

First, I'm going to allow myself to be Shaken at the start.  Follow me here.  If Kat spends a chip to not be Shaken and starts the right totally fresh, she'll take 4 wounds by the third hit, causing an incapacitation roll.

But Wildcat, you say, that means the first attack would cause 2 wounds.  I tell you it does not matter, because the second attack gets me to 3 and the third up to five.  It really doesn't matter.  Once you go over 3, 4 is the same as 176 wounds.  Causes the exact same problems.

Instead what I'm going to try to do is spend one of the chips to make a soak roll for the first hit while Shaken.  The reason why is I won't yet take any wound penalties to the soak roll.  Being Shaken doesn't effect that at all.

On the off chance I can roll an 8 on this soak roll, which I have a slightly decent chance of honestly, I would only have 3 wounds after the first three hits.

Let's see if I can pull that off.

20:41, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 1,11 using 1d6,1d8, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(8+3)11. Vigor roll for soak attempt.

Yee HAW!  So it's like this:

Intimidate check: Shaken
First hit: soaked, see above
Second hit: 1 wound
Third hit: 2 wounds

Total:  Shaken with 3 wounds.  No need for incapacitation roll.

The fact the fourth hit is six wounds doesn't matter one bit.  One is the same as a thousand.  Wildcat is Hard to Kill and thus doesn't take the -3 penalty she otherwise would on the resulting Incapacitation roll.

20:44, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 17,5 using 1d6,1d8, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+5)17,5. Incapacitation Roll (Hard to Kill!).

Not that it matters!  That is a success with a raise!  I've still got 3 wounds, and I'm still up at at them!  I've got 3 wounds, I've Shaken, I've got a temporary Injury, but I'm still in this thing!

I'll let the Marshal make the 2d6 Injury roll, naturally.

Fuck you Rum Tum Tugger, it'll take more than that to take out Wildcat Hawkins, who's as tough as old leather and meaner than a rattlesnake!  Where's my initiative card!

I'll wait for the Marshal to agree with me before I strike off the chip but I think I covered my bases on this one.  I also need to see what Injury I get, as the Injury could take me out of the fight all by itself.

As Charging Bear bends down to tend to the wounds, he notices that, beggaring belief, Wildcat is still conscious after all that punishment! She's also spitting mad, it seems. Still, the quick treatment should help her retaliate.

That hurt. Her left arm is numb and not working, and the cigar burn will leave a mark, but she's alive. And that means her assassin is as good as dead if she catches him before he escapes.

[[OOC: Wow. All that and only one chip. *applause*

I rolled 4, so that means you gain the One Arm hindrance. your *flips coin* left arm is unusable for the rest of this combat, and you are currently Shaken with 2 wounds and a permenant scar on your belly after CB's treatment.

Draw a card for next round. Rum's certainly in trouble now!]]

Wildcat screams in pain at the burn, but when the wound cauterizes, she looks up at the red man with understanding.  There's no time for thanks however.

"Get back here you ornery yellow jackass kisser!"  She bellows at the fleeing shooter.

21:26, Today: Wildcat Hawkins drew the single card: KC using the Deadlands system. Initiative.   I know I'm shaken until I make the roll not to be but after that I get to yell insults at him!

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #68):

[[OOC: Insults are talking, and talking is a fee action. You can still take free actions while Shaken.]]

Ya just have to ruin all my sorry jokes don't ya?

Come on Queen or worse, I wanna kick his ass...

Jesse, for one moment, has the wild thought that his hand flew on its own and gunned down the hated Ranger!  But, he feels his hand just then curling around the grip of his own hogleg.  Dammit!  Someone's gone and kilt 'er before I could!  "Son of a BITCH!" hollers Jesse as he turns towards the scarf-wearing bastard trying to steal his revenge, "She was mine dammit!  I was supposed t' shoot her!"  In turning so quick, he also fails to note that Wildcat survived...

OOC - 7 of Hearts for Initiative.  Also, *applause* If I was in the audience at this movie and saw the Ranger take that with a grunt & a snarl...  I'd be whooping and hollering!

Fortunately Carl doesn't hear CB calling orders at him, but he is in pursuit. Pure instinct and cold rage. Jesse and the others'll hear the familiar 'round 'em up!' whistle. Carl grins as he runs, or shows his teeth, anyway.

Shouldn't'a tried it on locals, fucker. They know every short-cut and dead end around.

[[Amen to that, or possibly yeeehaw.
4 running, 5 to catch the bugger and bring him down if possible so's the rest of the pack can catch up - aiming to tackle/take him alive and beat seven kinds of hell out of his cocky pansy hide
init: QD]]
This message was last edited by the player at 08:01, Thu 21 Oct 2010.

Initiative:

Wildcat Hawkins: KC
[Private to GM: McAvity: QS]
Carl: QD
Rum Tum Tugger: JD
Charging Bear: JC
The Dust Adders: 8H
Jesse: 7H
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:20, Thu 21 Oct 2010.

Wildcat could only see red, and it wasn't the Injun!  Unfortunately for that snake, he crippled her left arm.

08:11, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 12,27 using 1d8-1,1d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of (8+5)13,(6+6+6+6+4)28. Come on baby, Unshake for me!.

Nerves O' Steel negates one point of wound penalties.  That's a raise, I'd think...

Full of her own piss and vinegar, Katrina rises from the dusty ground, somehow leaving her duster, rifle and hat behind.  You don't shoot that much without making a lot of noise, and she hauls her Pace after him, even if her gait is stilted and her arm just sort of flops there, painfully.

Moving after him/giving chase.  Assuming he doesn't use a Ninja Vanishing Trick or I don't make a wrong turn or something, here's what's next:

Closing her left eye, which is blurry and stinging anyway,  Wildcat grabs the Single Action Army's grip and clears leather.  She isn't used to shooting duelist style, but that doesn't mean she don't know how.

"Freeze!  Yer Under Arrest!"

Wildcat is Heroic, but also Vengeful!
Multi Action Penalty reduced to 1 by Quickdraw holster.
Wound Penalties Reduced to 1 by Nerves O' Steel.

08:21, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 02 using 1d6-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 2,4. Shooting roll, if applicable.

Assuming I get to make that roll, I'm spending a Red Chip on it!

08:22, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. bonus die (RC).

That's a 7.  I reckon if I caught him I hit him but without a raise, so here's damage.

08:23, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 14 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+5)11. damage, if applicable.

I'll mark the chip off once the Marshal verifies if I knew where he was to shoot him or not.

Throwing a lot of lead around doesn't matter if you can't hit anything that counts echoed Mr. Armstrong's voice in her head.

The ranger lurched forward. She was able to catch a glimpse of a struggle. She saw the man in the wide hat and calico scarf, saw an opening, took a shot...watched it crease through his brown duster. The man yowled in pain but kept struggling.

[[OOC: Rum Tum Tugger spends the chip I got from Wildcat's red to soak.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 4,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,5. soak attempt. That soaks 1 wound, but he's facing down 2, so I'm going to blow a Red Chip from my stash for a chance at a Raise.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 4 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4. red chip. That raises my total to 9. That soaks both wounds.]]

There's a brief break in the struggle as he looks over at the ranger, and grins again. "I'm not working alone, you know." He shouts.

And at that moment, there's the *CRAK!* of a gun, this time coming from behind Wildcat from a second-story window above the barber's shop, across the street from the undertaker's office.

The ranger's hat flies off her head. Her scalp tingles from the passage of the bullet.

[[OOC: Mcavity takes his turn, taking a shot from his position behind the ranger.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 5,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,4. Shooting! That's a hit.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 4 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,1. Damage. That's not enough to break Wildcat's toughness, though.

Mcavity, using his level-headed feat, draws two cards for next round initiative. He draws 7D, AC.]]

It's Carl's turn next.

16:01, Today: Wildcat Hawkins drew the single card: 10S using the Deadlands system. next init.

Carl swings the struggling stranger round between him and who all was firing at him (or the man, or the ranger, it's pretty academic to the bullets), hand bunched in the bastard's scarf. His other hand abruptly gains a knife, but the sweep to pin the stranger's hand to a nearby waterbutt as he flails goes wide and it's all Carl can do to keep hold.

Kill on his turf, use his friends as shields like a bunch of steers? You ain't going anywhere, darlin'. The knife glints. Carl's gaze promises not murder, but certainly a load of hurt.


[[init: 5C]]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Thu 21 Oct 2010.

"Heavens to Murgatroyd! You're a a feisty one, aren't you?" The thin man says, kneeing Carl in the crotch. As the Dust adder bends over gasping, the man runs deeper into the alley. "Exit stage left!" he laughs. From somewhere in the tangle of buildings, a door slams open.

[[OOC: Rum attempts to escape the grapple.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 6,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,2. Squirming out of his grip! Good, but Rum wants to make sure he escapes, so I'll spend another Red Chip from the pool for a boots.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. red chip. His total is 11.

Carl rolled 5,5 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,5. gripping out his squirm! Fail. And that's also a Raise for Rum, who gets the have an action this turn.

Rum runs

The Jellicle Gang rolled 5 using 1d6 with rolls of 5. Running!

He moves and hides inside a building.]]

It is Charging Bear's turn.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:35, Thu 21 Oct 2010.

Charging Bear turns and looks up a where the unknown shooter was. He growled under his breath and took off towards the shop across the street. Taking an instant to try the door, Charging Bear attempt to enter said shop.

20:35, Today: Charging Bear drew the single card: 7D using a deck of 54 cards. Initiative.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Fri 22 Oct 2010.

Charging Bear makes it into the the shop. The barber is hiding in a corner, shivering.  he doesn't offer any resistance to the Indian in his shop, but he looks to traumatized to be any help, either.

---

The Dust Adders run out of the Undertaker's shop, most of them getting in each other's way.

Mike is off chasing after Carl, with Frank close behind.

Dave, on the other hand, considers his position. Sure, he could go help the Indian, but he still had a nice bruise from when the Redskin knocked him out.

He'd also been part of the posse that had tried to run the Marshal out of town, and stood by his decision. The law around here was gettin' too big for its britches, and now there was a Ranger in town. The same busybody who'd almost gotten Jesse hanged.

No, Dave wasn't eager to help either of them. In fact...

In fact, that sonovabitch who shot at the Ranger might have been doing them a favor.

So when the rest of the boys came piling out of the office, asking what the flying holy hell was going on out here, he replied,

"It's that girl who tried to get Jesse! She walked up and started shooting at him...and now she's gone down that way!" he pointed down the alley where the limping Ranger had shoved passed them.  A thought struck him. "Why, I think it was that same bitch who done shot Charlie!"

---

It's Jesse's turn

OOC: If I've got any movement left Charging Bear will head up stairs or at least closer to the stairs

Confusion regins.  But Jesse is a lucky one.  In a field of scattered with targets of opportunity, he has the fortune to have focus.  The Ranger-lady he thought had died, limped past him in plain view just as he was about to help out Carl.  Dave added even more focus by pointing out said Ranger and her various offense, real and imagined.  There were bullets everywhere.  Yelling and chaos.  Perfect time to get a little vengeance in.  With a wicked grin, he took off after her and dragged his six-gun clear of the holster.  Freed from its leather prison, the gleaming pistol swung to bear on the Ranger.  His finger curled against the trigger.  A cracking boom.  A bullet ripped the air towards the outnumbered, outgunned law-woman....

OOC - A 4 Shooting to Hit.  6 Damage.

[[OOC: That means Wildcat is Shaken. Things are looking bad for our friendly neighborhood Ranger...

Might be nearing time to call on that High Noon card...]]

---

Next Round:

Rum Tum Tugger: BJ!
Mcavity:  AC
The Dust Adders: KC
Charging Bear: 7D
Carl: 5C
Wildcat: needs to draw
Jesse: needs to draw

Checks the rules for quick reminder...

Yikes, glad that's right at my Toughness and not one point above it...

Anyway these can be played any time so let's try this on for size...

Wildcat just looks at the gang of Dust Adders headed her way, and laughs...



The Ranger's laugh is beautiful and clear, and just a little bit mad.  Katrina Hawkins was a pretty woman, but it was usually hidden under layers of weaponry and apparel, most of which now lay strewn about the streets.  Ironically at that moment, as her hair flowed wild, her work shirt was red with her own blood, and her left arm is limp, that fact was more apparent than it had been in a long time.

"Just look at all you boys, standing there with faces that look like a dime's worth of dog meat.  Between all of ya, there ain't two bits worth of brain juice.  I never heard of anyone in my life with a more appropriate name.  Dust Adders.

"Dust, as in cinders, grime, refuse... garbage.  Adders, as in low down belly crawlin' snakes... cowards, that can only kill with poison.  Sure it's deadly, but it's dishonorable.  A yeller streak a mile wide runs down every single one of yer backs.

"What the hell kind of fight's that going to be when you look back on this day and realize you couldn't take me until I was full of bullet holes, and even then you needed every single one of you to pull it off.  You'll wake up every day realizing Wildcat Hawkins was above your bend.

"How 'bout it boys?  Isn't there a one of you vipers that wants to feel like he had a hog killing time and accomplished something?"

PM - rules question...

[Private to The Stray: Actually I don't think I am shaken.  One of my players pointed this out to me.  Check out page 7 of the Explorer's Edition.

Toughness is your hero’s damage threshold. Anything over this causes him to
be rattled or worse.

In other words, damage must be greater than Toughness, not greater than or equal to, if I'm reading that right.  With Toughness 6, 6 damage does nada.  'Course I'm not the best on the rules sometimes and your call as always.  Not going to lose sleep over it either way.]

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #85):
[Private to Wildcat Hawkins:
I saw this on the official answer boards of the Pinnacle forum:

="Clint Black, Savage Worlds Core Rules Brand Manager":

jonnygray wrote:
If damage is rolled and the result is equal to your character's toughness, are you shaken?

E.g toughness of 7, damage rolled, 7.


Answer: Yep, meeting the TN (Toughness) means success, and the target would be Shaken (or suffer a wound if already Shaken).

]
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:33, Sat 23 Oct 2010.

Dropping one of the remaining chips to not be Shaken.  Can't start a duel that way.

[Private to The Stray: Well the good news is I WAS right when I ruled that way... now it's coming onto me.  Karma?]

Carl, once the world's stopped being mostly pain, is in no mood for distractions. He gives those Adders nearest him a fierce look and points down the street.
"..."

He gives a sharp whistle at the others and beckons them on, clearly annoyed and just as clearly completely ignoring the ranger[Private to GM: something the boys know he'd never do if Jesse had been attacked, which'll probably throw them]. If he can make eye contact with Jesse he'll give him a despairing go-ahead-but-be-careful glance. Let Jesse have his fight. They can say she died of her injuries. Maybe goddamn Evans'll know what happened to Luke.


[[...the Dust Adders don't technically have a leader at this point, but I presume it's transferrable. Even as acting leader Carl has no interest whatsoever in shooting Kat unless she gets in the way of driving these killers off his territory. (The gang has no power if randoms can just swan in and use them as shields to pick off anyone in 'their' town)]]

Jesse's eyes narrow a bit as the Ranger turns around and issues her challenge.  Why won't she just fuckin' die!?  His teeth grind together.  His fingers tighten against the grip of his gun.  He may or may not catch Carl's look because he never takes his eyes off the hated law-woman, "Ain't nobody cares whatcha spit out your damn mouth, bitch.  You ain't nothin' but a scared lil' girl hidin' behind a badge fancy talk.  Shootin' you down'll be a favor to anyone.  Teach girls to know their damn place..."  Time seems to slow down as he slips his gun back into its holster.  He'll gun her down fair, for everyone to see.

OOC - I kinda assumed this is the intimidation round of the Duel and went ahead rolled for it.  Got a 3, added 3 more with a Red.  Total - 6.  Its been a while since I did a Duel, so I may be mistaken.

That would be logical, and since Wildcat sucks at both Intimidate and Taunt it doesn't matter which one I oppose with.  It's a special test that doesn't leave the loser Shaken, but it still sucks to lose.  I choose Taunt.

Wildcat answers with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Darlin' I liked you better when you were covered in the sludge of that outhouse.  Ya looked more in yer element."

This roll is going to suck unless the die aces, since I'm defaulting and wounded, it's like a double whammy.

22:35, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 4,1 using 1d4-3,1d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of (4+3)7,4. An Amazing Taunt Roll.

Wow, the die aced.  Lucky me.  Since I now have a reasonable chance of winning or tying the Face Off, I'll spend a precious chip too.

22:40, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 2 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2. red chip.

That gets me up to a 6.  Well it sucks to be me, because my odds of tying or winning twice in a row are not very good.  I believe we do this step again until someone wins.

"Anybody ever tell ya'll yer so ugly you could back a buzzard off a gut wagon?"

Wildcat was obviously losing it.  Having more bullet wounds than birthdays meant her good material had long since run dry.

I went ahead and made my next Taunt roll to speed things up for Jesse's next post, since order doesn't matter...

You rolled -2,-2 using 1d4-3,1d6-3, rerolling max ((1,1)).

Okay, roll a 1 and you win. XD

The taunt falls on angry, deaf ears as Jesse just continues to stare down the Ranger.  His lips curve into a bit of a sneer, "Just a scared little girl.  Name calling won't save you.  You're gonna die."

OOC - So I win with a 3.  It feels hollow.  But I'll take it anyhow!

Frank and Mike nod at Carl's whistle, and follow his silent directions. The three of them proceed cautiously around the side of the building, trying to figure out where the interloper went.

There's three buildings he could have made it to in the time it took for them to get there: the Mining Association office, which has been closed since the Wendell people skipped town; Lucy Westenra's house (she worked at the Orientyal, and might or might not be home); and the old Carson place, which has been empty since the Carsons moved to find work elsewhere.

[[OOC: Make a Tracking check, -4 due to the rain, +2 due to the haste at which he had to move, for a total net penalty of -2. If you fail, you'll just have to guess which building he invaded.]]

---

Some mood music

The Dust Adders gather in a loose circle to watch the duel play out. The rain beats down on both the just ranger and the villainous cur alike. Time seems to slow to a crawl as they trade jabs and barbs.

Jesse's eyes narrow a bit as the Ranger turns around and issues her challenge.   Why won't she just fuckin' die!?  His teeth grind together.  His fingers tighten against the grip of his gun.  He may or may not catch Carl's look because he never takes his eyes off the hated law-woman.

"Ain't nobody cares whatcha spit out your damn mouth, bitch.  You ain't nothin' but a scared lil' girl hidin' behind a badge fancy talk.  Shootin' you down'll be a favor to anyone.  Teach girls to know their damn place..."

Time seems to slow down as he slips his gun back into its holster.  He'll gun her down fair, for everyone to see.

Wildcat answers with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Darlin' I liked you better when you were covered in the sludge of that outhouse.  Ya looked more in yer element. Anybody ever tell ya'll yer so ugly you could back a buzzard off a gut wagon?"

Wildcat was obviously losing it.  Having more bullet wounds than birthdays meant her good material had long since run dry.

The taunt falls on angry, deaf ears as Jesse just continues to stare down the Ranger.  His lips curve into a bit of a sneer,

"Just a scared little girl.  Name calling won't save you.  You're gonna die."

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #81):

The native son begins creeping up the stairs. Of course, by now the shootist up there has had ample time to find a spot for an ambush. It would now be a matter of who got the drop on whom.

[[OOC: Make a Notice Roll and a Stealth roll for me, please.]]

The mud sloshed from the heavy prints of a running man shows clear enough. Carl takes a last look back at the duel, chargrined by the others' interest in the ranger. He frowns slightly, beginning to suspect misinformation, but silently wishes Jesse good luck not getting bit by that three-legged dog he's kicking and lopes off down the road after the assassin, keeping to/near cover as well as he can.

[[Running 5, Tracking 4, Notice (all the better to dodge/shoot with if Rum thinks it smart to pop his silly hat up and fire) 6]]

In reply to The Stray (msg #94):
Charing Bear paused at the bottom of the stair, he looked up and drew forth his twin blades. He'd made them himself, with the help of his grandfather, when he was in his early teens. They had been remade a dozen times since, various bits had broken through the years... sometimes it was the handle and others the leather that bound the pieces, but always he remade them as was his way. The weapons had ridden with him through the war and drank much blood during his time as a scout in the CSA. Charing Bear almost wish he had that massive bladed war club that was presently sitting on his horse in the stable, but he knew his tomahawks rarely failed him.

Up the stairs the native son went, foot falls quiet as a great car, and his eyes open and aware as such a beast.

OOC:
06:36, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,1 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. Stealth.
06:36, Today: Charging Bear rolled 10,2 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+4)10,2. Notice.
06:37, Today: Charging Bear rolled 2,13 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+6+1)13. Stealth (White Chip).

In reply to The Dust Adders (msg #93):

11:33, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Da Chip.

Tried to improve the roll, didn't get the 5 or 6.  Well I'm conceding the Face Off, I don't think it's smart to spend any more chips than I already have.  It sucks but sometimes die types matter more than luck and vice versa.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #96):

The native son creeps up the stairs, and passes through a hall quietly. The sniper has probably abandoned the room near the window facing the street with the ongoing duel, so Charging Bear doesn't bother going that way. Instead, he creeps around to an adjoining room, and spots a then, effeminate-looking man dressed in a fastidious black suit crouched in the darkness, obviously waiting to shoot whoever enters the street-facing room with his dark blue Schofield Model 3.

CB comes in from the side, and has almost reached the man when the floorboard under him gives the slightest of squeaks. The man in the suit whirls, but the native son is practically right next to him by the time he gets his gun pointed.

"Well. This is awkward." He says. "May I ask a question before we commence trying to kill each other?"

[[OOC: Nice rolls.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 6,8 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,(6+2)8. stealth. This was his attempt to hide.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 8,4 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+2)8,4. Notice. He spends a Red Chip from his personal stash for a chance to beat CB.

The Jellicle Gang rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. red.

That makes his total 13. Just enough to spot CB, but only once he's gotten close.

If you want to attack him, you'll need to beat him in an opposed Agility test. Or you could hear what he has to ask.]]

---

In reply to Carl (msg #95):

The rain isn't helping, but Carl spots muddy bootprints on the door of the abandoned Mining Claims office, which is slightly ajar. It's a fairly large, two-story structure that also doubled as a storage for fundaments pulled from the mill that turned raw ore into silver. There was a vault here, if Carl recalled correctly. Might be a good place for a varmint to hole up...if he didn't mind being starved out.

Wildcat froze.  She was scared.  Name calling wasn't going to save her.  But from deep within came something that might.  Something she remembered that Mr. Armstrong had told her, that "Rip" Ford himself had said about the first to wear the five pointed star.

A large proportion ... were unmarried. A few of them drank intoxicating liquors. Still, it was a company of sober and brave men. They knew their duty and they did it. While in a town they made no braggadocio demonstration. They did not gallop through the streets, shoot, and yell. They had a specie of moral discipline which developed moral courage. They did right because it was right.

Katrina was scared as she had ever been, as scared as she was all those years ago when she came home and found her momma crying, and her world changed forever.

But by God, it didn't matter.  He had died this way, and if it was good enough for him, it was an honor for her.

A single whispered word escaped Wildcat's lips.

"Daddy."

It doubled as a pleasant final thought, as far as final thoughts go.  Her slender fingers wrapped themselves around the jigged stag.  The front sight cleared the relief cut in the tooled holster.  Her thumb cocked the hammer.

The Dust Adder leveled his weapon at her heart.  When he cocked his hammer, the sunlight rushed through the bore just enough Wildcat could see the bullet and the crisp rifling of the barrel.

She fired.  One shot, crisp, perfect.  The bullet sank into the Dust Adder's gut at the very instant he fired.  He barely flinched enough to throw the trajectory off.  The hot lead cut through her blouse, putting a fierce burn mark on the pale white skin on her shoulder.

Or maybe it had entered her shoulder.  She couldn't tell any more, there were already too many slugs in her.  Or perhaps some unseen angel had guided the incoming slug's path.  Either way, her shot had counted.  His hadn't.

She might yet die here today, but not yet.  Katrina was gone again.  Wildcat was back.

"Yer under arrest."

21:04, Today: Wildcat Hawkins drew the single card: 4D using the Deadlands system.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Mon 25 Oct 2010.

In reply to The Jellicle Gang (msg #98):

"Alright ... talk." the Native son says with a slight smile on his face.

OOC:
11:39, Today: Charging Bear drew the single card: 5D using a deck of 54 cards. Initiative.

Carl doubts the man's gone into the cellars - with a good bolt like this he could just sit on up there and pick off a garrison inside or out as long as his ammunition holds.

Carl tries to recall if there's a back door or other way out of the place - if there is he'll send Mike round to cover it with swift, silent instructions to check the man's not gone straight through and to keep him busy if he proves to have made fast. A serious look adds to be careful.

Frank gets similar instructions round the front, with an additional warning to mind his cover, recalling his slowness that morning.

The dandy smiles. "What exactly is your stake in all this? An Indian working with the Dust Adders seems a little odd, considering Mr. Shaw's well-known bigotry towards natives and Mr. Frost's equally legendary hatred of anyone non-Caucasian."

[[OOC: The Jellicle Gang drew the 2 cards: 3C, 7C using the Deadlands system. Level-Headed.]]

The smile widens slightly on Charging Bear's face, "I think you have me mistaken for a random sort of passerby ... see I'm a deputy Marshal in this town, and I don't take too kindly to folks just shooting other folks."

"Oh? Evans is hiring on Deputies now? And there's a Ranger in town, too...well, that explains quite a few things" the dandy replies. "Well. That puts me in a tricky position, then. You see, I'm not in the habit of shooting lawmen unless there's a good reason for it, like lots and lots of money, or to save my own life. I'm not being paid lots and lots of money to shoot you. At least, not yet. There's still the possibility of me shooting you to save my own life, though. I don't want that. You don't want that either, I'd wager. You look like you've had a hell of a day already, if those cuts and scrapes you've got all over you are anything to go by. So let me make you a deal. I will stop 'just shooting people', at least for today, and go on my merry way if you agree not to try and whack at me with yon axes when I take my leave. Fair?"

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #99):

Jesse's boot skidded back a bit as something seemed to knock the wind out of him.  It through his aim off too.  Damn.  Only nicked her.  He tried to thumb the hammer back on his pistol again, but for some reason just couldn't seem to manage it.  With a slight wobble, he crumpled to the dusty street.  What the hell...  Why can't...  Oh fuck...  I'm shot...  She got me...  That bitch killed me...   I'm dyin'....  I don' wanna die...  That realization brings it all on in a rush...  Fear...  Panic....  His boots drum on the ground as his body twitches, flooded with shock and adrenaline.  Trying desperately to run from Death.  Its a race no man can win.

________________________

Young Jesse straps on his shiny new sixgun, puffing out his chest with pride.  Ready to take on the world and make a name for himself.  Write it out in bullets and blood.  Everyone would remember him.  Reflexively, he drew his pistol and spun it once before sliding it back home in the oiled leather holster.

His father, the old farmer, stepped up behind him, "I'm gonna ask you again, boy.  Give it up.  You carry that gun, you are gonna die by the gun.  That's the way of the world."  The old man squinted a minute to clear his eye, dust of course, "Stay.  Meet a girl.  Raise kids.  Have some land.  That's how you'll make your mark."

Jesse just sniffed at the idea, turning a cold sneer on his misguided father, "Hell with that.  I want my name in books and papers.  Everyone's gonna know my name.  Hickock won't have nothin' on my story.  So you can take your farm and go t' hell."  He pushed past his father and strode out, calling back, "I'm gonna be a famous."

With a sad shake of his head, his father turns away to sit at his table.  Defeat etches his features.  The old farmhouse feels emptier, though the boy only just left.  The old man knew, the gun had taken his boy allready...
_________________

A last, bloody rattling breath pushes out of Jesse's lips.  His eyes grow dim.  His boots slow their drumming.  Those who live by the Gun, die by the Gun.

The Dust Adders gather around the dying Jesse, closing ranks so the Ranger can't see.

Dave bends down, takes the man's hand as he lays in the mud. "We're here, boy." he says. "We're here for ya..."

He watches as Jesse breathes his last, trying to be as comforting as he can. Rain streams down hs face. Yeah. Rain. Not tears.

Damn it. Four dead and gone in two days. Dog Charlie, Luke, Frost, and now Jesse. This was their town! What the hell was happening to them?

He glared at the Ranger, still wobbly on her feet. That damn bitch was tougher than a two-bit steak, no lie. But even a tough steak can be chewed up and swallowed. But this weren't the time. Not yet.

"When calamity comes, the wicked are brought down, but even in death the righteous have a refuge."  Wildcat's Methodist upbringing asserted itself before she continued.  Dammit... she thought.  How the hell am I going to be in two places at once...  And then she looked and saw how.

"I got a little proposition for you boys, I'll even give you a choice.  I think one of yours just chased down someone I've got a bigger beef with than ya'll at the moment.  If nothin' else we can tangle again later, I ain't goin' nowhere.  But you got a problem that needs to be seen about now.

Wildcat had to pause to keep from puking in disgust of herself (mostly).

"Last time I checked it's damn legal in Texas to hunt down ornery cusses that take a shot at a law man.  How 'bout ya'll get the lead out and go do the right thing for once, even if it's for the wrong reason?"

In reply to Carl (msg #101):

Carl tries to remember if there's a back door...then realizes that's where he's standing. The back door is the one accessible from the alley. So while Mike watches the back and Frank heads around to the front, Carl does his thing.

[[OOC: What is Carl doing after he gives his orders? You never mentioned what Carl himself was up to...]]

[[it depended on whether Rum is still there or had just gone bowling through - if he's satisfied they've got the man in a box he'll signal the others to keep him busy a couple of minutes at minimum risk to themselves and run back to the back door of the undertaker's to borrow a few things...which'll be interesting since he's still expecting Jesse to catch up with him all bouncy, not be lying dead in the middle of the street]]

If it seems they've pinned their cat, Carl'll lend his hat for the impression of numbers/something for Rum to shoot at, signal 'three minutes' and set off back down the road, throwing back a grin Mike knows well. It's the grin of an Idea.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:50, Mon 25 Oct 2010.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #107):

Dave looks up. The rest of the men look confused...they have no idea what the Ranger is talking about, having listened to Dave's versions of events, and nothing they've seen since contradicted anything he said until now

And Dave, vengeful guy that he was, wanted to make the bitch pay. Not now, sure, but there were many ways of taking vengeance that didn't involve a gun...

"Yeah, I'll say we got a problem, murderer. You got your panties in such a bunch that Jesse done beat your frame up job that you gotta come here and gun him down, and now you want us to help you track down some other poor soul? Ain't nothin' doin' with that, girl. Go on and chase down yer friend yourself. We got business with Mr. Underhill." He says, nodding at the boys. The other Dust Adders began picking up their fallen friend and filing back into the Undertaker's office.

Dave remains outside. "Enjoy your tin star while it lasts, Ranger. You won't be wearin' it long. You shot down Charlie, and now eight men will swear to high heaven they saw you slap leather first down on Jesse, who was only defending himself from some woman who don't know when to let a grudge drop. Once your bosses in Austin hear about this they'll rip that star offa you then jam it up your behind so far you'll taste it before they hang you."

OOC:  I'm assuming that since I saw Carl and Rum Tum duke it out, I can put two and two together since Carl is not here any more.

I'm also assuming from the map that Wildcat would have seen Charging Bear run across the street.  If you look at it, Wildcat has a damn good view of both.

Wildcat shakes her head.  She should have known better.  They don't even take care of their own.  For some reason though, she actually didn't hate them any more for it.  Rather, she pitied them.  She'd always thought their solidarity was intact, even if their honor isn't.

She didn't have time to deal with this.  Their talk didn't phase her, everything had to be proven in court, and just because you had witnesses didn't mean they were credible.  And last time she checked, the judge was dead anyway.

"Yeah, eight known liars who are probably wanted elsewhere.  I'll face my trials after you boys face yours.  I'll be around sooner or later to arrest some of you.  Until then, see to your dead.  And then get the hell out of town."

She really hadn't wanted to kill Jesse.  She didn't kill him back in Nacogdoches, but it was no time for reflection.  Assuming they don't block her way, she walks to the edge of the street.

"He didn't have to die.  Remember that."

If they want the last word in, Wildcat doesn't care.  Taking a low crouch, she runs toward the building where the second gunman shot at her.  That other Adder seemed pretty determined to get the first one, for what reason she didn't know, but she couldn't be in two places at once.

She hadn't thanked the red man properly.  Maybe she'll still get a chance to...

In reply to Carl (msg #109):

[[OOC: That's not a determination that Carl can make without exploring the environment a little more. All the information he has is a muddy bootprint on a door that is slightly open. Rum could have gone inside and holed up, he could have run right through, or he could have simply kicked the door open and run off a different direction, leaving the door as a red herring. Carl will need to actually enter the building a bit and look around (and make another Tracking roll, this time without the penalty from the rain) to get the information he needs]]

"You mean, you'll put down your gun and I'll put down my blades, and we'll just let each other walk away?" Charging Bear asks, the idea sounded fine though he was slightly worried that the dandy won't hold up his end of the deal as he had just knowingly shot a Ranger but that was probably for money as the man had stated.

Carl has a trained man's wariness of doorways. If the stranger's holed up he's had enough time to settle to his advantage and Carl's already run one ambush today, which is quite enough. No harm in checking around, though.


[[It doesn't fit with Carl's background to run into the house like a numpty - not being shot at thus far has him alert, since waiting for the enemy to be right up close is as much a common guerilla tactic as false fires. Assume he checks as far as possible around the building looking for signs of Rum going elsewhere/the direction he took if he did, with the eagle eyes of vengeance and an 18 Tracking. Also, I've lost track of my chips. Sorry 'bout that. help?]]

"Precisely." The dandy says. "And, as a show of good faith, I'll put my weapon away first."

Which is what he does, sliding the pistol into the oiled leather of his holster.

"Your move, sir." He says.

---

The barber is cowering in a corner as Wildcat comes in. He offers no resistance, but he doesn't offer the Ranger any help, either. But since there's a muddy trail leading upstairs, it's easy to surmise where the native Son may have gone.

---

Carl takes a good look at the area around the door...and spies a clue. There doesn't seem to be a trail of mud leading inside the room, and he spots a print half-washed away at the corner of the building.

There was no one inside, probably. It looks like the flamboyant figure had simply kicked the door open as a red herring.

And, worryingly, there was nothing from Frank. Not a whistle, shout, or curse...

Wildcat will check to make sure the barber's not hurt or tied up.  She considers telling him to flee, but to where with another gunman loose?

"Stay down sir!"

Realizing she's not packing a full cylinder, Wildcat agonizes over what to do for just a second, but then opens the loading gate on her Single Action Army and sets the gun on the counter.  She pushes the extractor with her good hand, and reloads the spent chambers.  She needs to be ready.

Carl indicates the new trail to Mike and gives a two-tone whistle of enquiry. If Frank responds with a simple whistle of 'I'm over here' he'll concentrate on the new trail.

If he gets no response - or indeed a range call along the lines of 'all roped' or 'need more riders' - he and Mike will pad around either side of the building as though they shared one mind. Mike being softer-footed and without his aim apt to be thrown off by a twinging shoulder, Carl'll draw attention away from his comrade by whistling Pretty Saro as he paces, as though it matters nothing to him however much their quarry runs or is prepared. He's wary, though, weapon drawn.

In reply to The Jellicle Gang (msg #115):

Watching the dandy for signs of falsehood, Charging Bear eyes the weapon until it returns to it's leather home. "Alright then..." the native son follows the dandy's lead and slides each of his tomahawks into its respective 'home'.

OOC:
08:58, Today: Charging Bear rolled 5,2 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,2. Notice.

[[OOC: Sorry for being MIA all day...I got sucked into reading The Walking Dead comic series and couldn't put it down. Hours vanished for me...and now I'm pumped for the new series on AMC premiering Sunday]]

Carl:

There's no call at all from Frank. As Carl creeps around the building, he discovers why...Frank never made it to the front. Carl finds him lying in the mud, insensible, a nice, shiny Earp growing on his forehead.

It looks like the man in the outlandish clothes has gotten away. For now.

Charging Bear:

The man tips his hat. "Until next time, then." He says, then slips out a window and slides down the side of the building.

Wildcat:

By the time Wildcat has made it upstairs, the only person she can see is the native. No one else seems to be up here at the moment.

Wildcat is on guard anyway, having seen how sneaky these desperadoes are.  "Ya seen 'im?  Whar is that sunovabitch!?"

She looks a sight with huge red spots covering her clothing as it absorbs the blood from several wounds, her left sleeve in particular being caked in dried blood from where the red man stopped the hemorrhaging.

"Out that window," Charging Bear says and points towards where the dandy just dashed out.

"Thanks."  is all Wildcat has time to say as she dashes to the window to see if he's visible.

OOC: Can Wildcat see him?  If she can she's taking a shot at him.  Otherwise it's right back out of here.

Nix that, if he's dead he can't rat out his accomplice(s).  Besides this whole killing everybody and arresting nobody schtick is upsetting her.  After him!

What a day.

Carl hauls Frank to a sitting position against the building in one movement, left-handed, and runs into the main street. Half a minute, maybe a few seconds more. Not much of a headstart. Something's telling him to give up but he's too angry now, a feeling like gravel in the guts.


[[Carl, on the other hand, will shoot at Rum if he can see him (I'm assuming he picked up his pistol and usually carries it), even at distance, though he won't stray too far from a downed Frank. 4 notice, if needed]]

Wildcat Hawkins:

[[OOC: You wouldn't be able to see him at the moment, and you'd need to make a Notice Check at -2 to hear him due to the rain.]]

Carl:

It may not be much of a headstart, but apparently it's enough. Apparently the man had a horse stashed away nearby, because Carl can make out the faint beat of hooves echoing off the buildings, growing ever distant. It's probably why the man choose this path to run down in the first place.

And it's about this time that Percy runs over. "Carl! Carl!" he shouts. "It's Jesse! The Ranger shot him!"

15:27, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled -2,7 using 1d4-3,1d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+4)10. Notice with wound, situational penalty.

Carl spends a second pointing his gun at what may or may not be the speck of a distant vanishing horse through heavy rain, then lowers it. Raises his face to the clouds and swears, silently, by fire and blood and chaos, that this slight will be repaid triple if ever he catches sight, voice or stench of the scarfed man again.

His first look at Percy is one of 'what the hell kept you?' - anyone who knows Carl well enough can see the strange stillness in his body that indicates he's very, very angry. He stands statue-like a second at the youth's message, then starts to pace back to Frank, beckoning to Percy to help him with their unfortunate friend, giving Mike a look that comiserates their bad luck hunting.

He glances across at Percy, a question in his eyes. A hurt, hungry and humiliated Jesse is going to be hell on a crutch to deal with.
"?"

[Private to GM: "How bad is it?"]

Wildcat:

Wildcat can hear some footfalls, heading away. Whoever it is, they are making sure to keep out of direct sight of the window, using the surrounding buildings as cover.

Carl:

Percy looks down at the ground. "He...he's..."

His voice breaks, and he doesn't sound like he can continue. This tells Carl enough.

Wildcat immediately descends the stairs and goes out, guessing at the direction he might have gone and doing her best to follow.  If she were feeling a little more spry she might try something more adventurous, but the beating she's sustained is taking its toll on her.

In case it's needed:

18:04, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 5,3 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3. tracking if needed.

I forgot to put in the wound penalty so it's a 4, and the rain probably causes problems too as it washes away his footprints. Damn you rain, my mortal enemy. D:<

Carl doesn't pretend not to cry, or even look like he might. Some hurt goes too deep at impact to be felt. In his mind's ear he hears the militia leader peg-legging it up and down in front of their raggedy-ass group of boys, farmhands and old men, years ago:
'...can't make y'all proper soldiers, but I can at least make y'all something a real soldier won't shit on....you see your friend go down, don't think; keep moving, stay aware of the enemy.'

Gun re-holstered, he gestures to Percy to come help again, a little more sharply. His shoulder's started to bleed again taking Frank's weight. A warmth. '...Billy sees you stood staring slack-jawed at yer brother's brains blown out, he'll see yours join 'em an' laugh at the good luck he's having. Hit or gone, y'aint no use to a man on the ground if'n you don't keep your stride.'

Carl keeps moving, tries to keep the lad moving, knows Mike'll follow by instinct even though he's not swearing and the lack of cursing's bad. He'll head back towards the undertaker's, but he'll send the others across the street and into the Grand Bull (the unconscious man's proof enough they're not trouble, and a story of assassins will distract) before going up to Underhill's alone.

Wildcat:

By the time Wildcat gets downstairs, any trail the man might have left that she could follow has been washed away. And the rain isn't letting up at all...in fact, it's getting worse.

looks like the man might have gotten away...for now. Wildcat would probably have to assemble a proper posse. And she's still bleeding pretty badly, with he arm quite numb. She needs a doctor. And, of course, the only one around would be Underhill...

[[OOC: It's a -4 penalty for trying to track in the rain, so yeah, that's not going to cut it]]

Carl:

Mike lays a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Come on, Kid. We need to get going." The pair head off, the unconscious Frank in tow.

Carl reaches the Undertaker's place, where the rest of the Dust Adders are gathered, crowding in around the table where Jesse's body has been laid out.

Underhill is there, too. They've dragooned him into trying his meager doctoring skills, but he shakes his head.

"I-I'm sorry. The bullet lodged too deep and nicked his lung. I can't help him." he says, setting his bloodstained tools aside. "He's gone."

Carl moves through the others, removing his hat, and touches two fingers to Jesse's temple. Still warm, no pulse. No Jesse. So much fire gone in an instant from the earth. Keep moving.

He turns, draws, fires right alongside Dave's head.

It's a shot clearly not intended to hit anything save the ceiling. Still, probably deafens the man on that side for a bit as death goes roaring by his ear. Dave'll find the gun pointed at him - not cocked, but there. Carl's face is largely without expression, his grey stare cold as ice over deep water.

Well it's back to Underhill Wildcat goes, but not before picking up her personal effects which are littered in the street by now.

Charging Bear watches the tin-starred ranger leave, she obviously had other things on her mind. Moving to the room where the dandy actually did the shooting, he has a look around. Never know what hints were left behind ... I'm sure Rose would be proud.

OOC:
09:36, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,3 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,3. Notice.

Meanwhile, in the abandoned mine where so many had died from the cave in, Gus Shaw and the ronin, Gangatsu, just became 'uneasy' allies.


Panting, her heart beat brisk. The blonde rough neck was beside her, thighs tense a little as she shifted her hips. Well, she wasn't warm, but she wasn't cold anymore, so the wily fucker was going to be her head support if she so desired it. At this point of time it was a fond notion that he was still human.. She could hear his heart yet... A slow, strange rattling, muffled under the flesh and bone. Like a little serpent that the machine had spoke of. The snake within him..

" Mm.." Gatsu moved her head away from his chest and green eyes looking to it, as if expecting it to pop out. A sigh, turning away from him, her arm proping her head up, her back against him to stay warm, or at least content. She watched the fire, dying down.. Her eyes growing heavy..


The flames dance and sway, hypnotic and graceful, and she never noticed the point when her eyes drooped and she fell fully asleep to the crackle of the flames and the patter of the rain.


The light blinded her yet it faded away into darkness. She could hear the fire crackling, and to that she was staring at the hearth he made. Tilting her head, she was dressed in one of her more feminine garbs that she had not seen in a long time and waiting in a cozy, neglected hotel room. The town they stopped in looked like it had been abandoned for months, all the food that wasn't canned was rotten and growing fungi, the beds smelt like dust, and everything made such a hollow sound.

There were traces of blood in some places, but they had secured a small area, their wagon left outside under thhe light of the full moon. Oreida got up and moved, finding herself alone, now opening the door to look for her husband..

The hotel door creeked. A darkened hall streached endlessly outward. Row upon row of silent doors stood at attention. Only a glimpse of a greenish flame, bursting sporadically in the distance down the hall, caught here eye. From somewhere unseen, a church bell tolled.


She caught the flicker of green, it made the end of the hall glow of that hue ever briefly. Her bare feet took a step forth, the french styled dress followed behind, touching the floor as she went along like a bridal train. The bell toll and it made her brow furrow and her heart beat. Someone was here. Steps hurried now, going down the the end of the hall...


As she moved, the hall seemed less like wood and plaster, becoming more elongated and further away. The doors began to change to slabs of stone, before fading away into the walls of the tunnel she moved through. The bells still rang. The green flame still flckered. The air was, by turns, hot and cold.


Green eyes shifting from one side tohte other as she started to run. The bell  was distant, but she almost swore it was getting closer. The air turned hot and cold, brushing against her skin, it almost felt like this tunnel was breathing.. What the hell?


Now, the tunnel curved. It wound and twisted and coiled. The bells continued to chime. The breeze kicked up, hot one way, then cold the other. In, out. in, out. Inhale, exhale. The stone grew soft, and her feet sank slightly into the floor. A wetness gleamed along the walls in the flicker of the green flame.


 THe curves slowed her a little, her weight shifting with the turns, but she had to cringe. Her eyes becoming slits of dark lashes as the hot air blew against her, goosebumps rising as the cold inward draft pushed her forward and chilled the skin windowed by this backless dress.  The wet and soften of the floor almost felt like mud yet it didn't stick to her, the walls like a dank cave yet the green light still eludes her.. She pressed on, holding up the front of her dress so she could move swiftly.

Eventually she reached a larger space. It felt round and domed, but the cealing was too high to make out in the tint of the green flame. She could see it's source now. It was a torch, burning near a stone altar etched with carving of serpents. Atop the altar, tied to it with barbed wire, was Khan, his chest ripped open.


Her eyes looked around the curved room and focused a bit where the light was. The ominous orochi-oni, gatsu came to the devious lair.. Her lips arted with the start of a horrible, angry, sorrowful scream. Her husband, her love, the only person she had met with a kind heart.. that heart was gone and his body defiled.. Tears burned her eyes with the salty water, her feet felt like lead as she staggered a step forth and fell to her knee hard, her hands to the floor  as she sobbed. An ugly, rusty sound as if she had never known how to cry the meaning of sorrow before this moment..


"Sorry, darlin'..." The figure on the stone slab croaks in a sepuchural voice. "I never meant for you to see me like this..."

A wheesy, a high pitched panting gasp as if trying to get her mind together.. He spoke.. He spoke.. " K -Kahn.. Kahn! " She scarmbled, her body tense with shock, her legs feeling ridged as she staggered toward the alter. " Who did this? O kami, your.. Your.. Your gunna be okay, yes. Your okay."


"Ha. That's funny, darlin'. Gunna be okay...not in a million years. Sorry, darlin', but that's the way it is." he turns his head to look at her. His eyes squirm with maggots. "No... Some things, the cain't be put back together no more."


That simple laugh, she hated that laugh and she missed it. he would always use it in any disagreement they had causee it never bothered him as much as it bothered her.  He looked to her and there were no eyes, she bent slightly with her hand cupping her mouth, almost lurching as she looked away.. " Okami.. No. I.. I can make them all pay.. I don't care, not without you..  If I have to die then at least I'll find you again. I won't let you go like this.." She move up, shivering, looking at the wires that bound him. There had to be something. " Can't you.. tell me.. Send me in the direction.. I'll go."


"Darlin', what or who exactly do you think it is that needs to pay so much? You done already chopped up them deaders what done me in. What do you plan to do? Travel down to Perdition and bitch-slap the Devil?" He chuckles. "Not that I don't think you *could*, mind. You always did have that stubborn streak about you, but it weren't no one man that done this to me. It was a change in the world."

" Don't joke." She murmurs lowly in speaking bitch slapping the devil, honestly it deserved it. The tears rolling over her cheeks as she listened.  " A change,  A change doesn't raise the dead.  This should have never happened. .. Kahn.. I want this to all to stop.. It won't by itself."

"And it won't stop if'n you git yerself kilt by tryin' to take on the whole world alone, either. It's a big damn job. You ain't gunna make it on your lonesome, 'sepcially not the way you been burnin' the candles at both ends and rushin' through like a bull in a china shop. You gotta stop tryin' to pry the answers you want out'a them that ain't willin' to share 'em, and try to be more subtle-like. Ya'll will catcfh more flies with honey than vinigar."


" .." The woman's lips parted to say something, but it died on her lips. He was right, even though the stubborn nature told her to argue with him. She couldn't bare to do that. " You were a lot better at that."

"Yeah. Reckon I was."

" Why are you in this room.. Where are we? She surveyed the room, her stomache and.. Everything still felt so uneasy and a bit queasy. She sniffled, wiping her eyes and runny nose.


"I'm here so I can talk with you. You're in a dream, Darlin'. One pulled from you, an' from me, an' from the big ol' snake thing sleeping at the bottom of this place."


" A dream.." For a moment sounding confused and relief, she thought she had died and went to her own hell. " ... When I see you.. It's not cause.. I'm going insane?.." She breathed her brow furrowing. " And the snake.. IS it the same as Alouette has spoke of? The one in Gus?"

"Not all the time, no." He says. "Can't rightly say it's always me, though...ya'll need some cake and grief counciling, darlin'. As for the snake...the one in that guy is just a baby compared to this thing. It's old. Really old. It's been sleeping down here for half of forever, but the change that happened to the world woke it some. It used to sleep deep, now it dreams."

Grief counciling.. Cake sounds good, but he was there some times. Perhaps she just remmebered how he always said this and that.. Yet the memory of finding him in peieces. But he didn't look like htat now.. His body was together and prim except for the barbwire, the hole in his chest, and his dark brown eyes she use to love.. Her heart was pounding a little, but whom was  she suppose to talk to about her troubles? Tex was the only one she could figure, but even the smell of him would make her vomit in that unguarded state. She listened and something in the world made the snake dream.. If it dreams, she wondered how horrible things would be if it awakened. " What changed? "


"Don't know for sure. Ask the metal hawk. It might know more. But you gotta talk to the think within the box, not the box itself." He says. "From what I gather, there was some kind of lock on the spirit world, and someone broke it. Wish I could tell you more, Darlin', I really do."


She looked to him, her eyes shifting over his open chest and his ruined face. His body was rotting away here. " Metal Hawk in the box. Spirit lock broken. " Making sure she remembered it, she repeated it a little. " No, my love. Thank you for this.. I'll find it..." Her hand reached out an touched his cheek. Warmth met cold with a fond touch. The woman moved closer and kissed his cold clay lips briefly.

".. I miss you..."

" I miss you too."

And this dream, during their talk, turns to black, creeping up and evelopes the room and those within it..

Charging Bear:

The room where the shootist had a clear view of the window was a bedroom, fairly neatly kept. There isn't much here aside from a bed, desk, and chair. The dandy had a clear view of the street from the window, and the Undertaker's place is well within the range of a revolver, but aside from a couple wet shoe prints there isn't anything more to be learned from the room that Charging Bear didn't already know.

Of course, the wet prints on the floor suggest that the man made his way up here after the rain started, not before, so he couldn't have been waiting here in ambush all that long. He and the fellow in the outlandish hat and scarf were probably working together, but they must have been moving fast to take advantage of an opportunity.

And it begged the question...how did the Ranger know that the Dust Adders were here in the first place? She did arrive at this spot conveniently quickly after the DA's got to arguing.

---

Carl:

Dave winces in pain at the tinnitus caused by the gunshot in such an enclosed space, but stands his ground.

"You wanna do this?" he says, balling his fists, "Then fine. Let's take a mosey on back in the street. But if you ain't noticed, Jesse's dead, and it's that law girl that done it. The same one who tried to get him hung in Nacogdoches. The same one who took down Charlie. The same one who has just now called us all liars and had the guts to try and tell us to leave our town!"

Dave walks right up to Carl, plants himself in front of the gun.

"You wanna shoot me like you done Nate? You gonna lay down and roll over to any corrupt bully with a badge what gonna tell you how to live your life? That ain't us. This is our town. We call the shots here. That Ranger bitch needs to be shown what it is we Texans do to them that try to run our lives and abuse their powers, like them judges back in '69 found out. So all I gotta know is are you in, or are you yeller?"

In the middle of the tension, a small figure slides out into the rain...

---

Wildcat:

Wildcat slowly gathers up her things. The last thing she gathers is her hat.

It has a nice hole clean through it. Ah, well. gives it character.

But just as she sets it on her head, she hears the cock of a pistol behind her.

"You!" A tiny, piping voice says. "You killed my pa!"

She breathed in, her eyes opening in the dimming light of the the old mine. She stayed theere, hearing Gus lightly snoring as she thought on that dream. It was so vivid and disturbing. A bit of her still felt so queasy. Her lowerhalf still felt tingly and abused, it was an aching feeling from long ago.

In sitting up, upon her hip, arms proping herself up, the fire was smoking cinders and glimpse of red embers under the char wood. Green eye were wet with tears and sleep stones had gathered around from the dried salt. Wipping her eyes she moved away from the man, crawling over to her pack and pulled a kerchief to wipe her face down.  A light sniffle, swallowing a bit hard, she wondered why now did she finally get to speak to him.. Was she close to an area of improtance? Was it the proximity of the baby snake in Gus' chest? or was it just Kahn wanting to talk, to steer her a bit more..

Checking on her clothes, they were cool, but dry. The rain patter had kicked up something feirce outside. Pulling on her short yakuta and obi, Gangatsu looked over Gus' clothes, they seemed to be a little damp in some places sinceh e hadn't rung them out first. She flatten them a bit and folded his pants length wise and piled his clothes neatly there by the fire.

It wasn't long before she went back next to the slumbering oaf and nudged him with her foot.

" 'Ey. Get up."

Wildcat turns around and looks down at her accuser.

Wildcat turns to find herself staring down the barrel of a Colt Frontier, held in both hands by a blonde boy of about 12-13 years old. On his head is a brown hat that's just a little too big for him. The gun shakes a little in his hands, and tears streak down his face.

"You killed him!" he says again.

Something in Wildcat flares up, but just for an instant, before a kind of serenity comes to her.  Wildcat kneels so that they're closer to level.

"Then you should know my name.  It's Katrina Hawkins.  What's yours?"

"D-did you know my pa's name, before you shot him in the back?" The boy says, his voice cracking as tears leak down the corner of his eyes. "Why? Why did you kill him? Why did you shoot my pa?"

The thought occurs to Wildcat that this boy isn't much younger than she was when that bastard Hardin killed her own father...

Carl calmly cocks the pistol, a warning, and holds up his hand for the others' attention. Then he turns to them and makes a series of swift, natural gestures it'd take far longer to describe than to make - pointing at the body, Nate's, to the floor, to some of the Dust Adders, holding eye contact as he lets Dave out from immediate threat of shooting. Showing his confidence that the gang'll take him if he's misjudged Dave and is about to be shot in the back.

"..."

An outsider wouldn't tell how angry he is, but there's that same stillness at the core of him, movements unnaturally precise because he's not shaking...and a killing coldness in his gaze as intense as any of Nathanial's rages.

[[OOC: Translation:

"I ain't yeller. Y'all so afraid of a half-dead ranger you gotta chase her, gotta set Jesse on her, give him an audience? Y'all hadn't set him one-on-one with something to prove he'd have shot her in passing, come to help me. He wouldn't be dead."

[pause, catching eyes]

"Where did y'all think I was, taking a shit? When have I - or Mike, he's over the street - ever left Jesse's side when I thought he was in trouble? I didn't think y'all were so scared of the law you'd go clump 'round her - she ain't nothin'. You think she shot Charlie? She faced down a Jesse-rage with at least three bullets in her; that's not someone who shoots in the back in the dark. She got balls, Evans ain't. I know that's ironic.

The guy who shot her - the bastard I was up the road chasing - used us as a shield.Us. Me, Mike, Frank, Dave - Dust Adders. If it weren't for her high-an'-mighty moral attitude she'd have fired back through us. She didn't shoot Charlie. The hell she did. Thanks to all your fascination with the damn ranger the assassin got away [holding up a hand] so what? I'll tell you so what: next time that's a bounty hunter, after you, you, you [pointing]. Bang, dead. If they know they can just walk in, kill anyone on our patch and we won't lift a finger to stop them, we're nothing. An idiot can see that. The townsfolk will see that.

This is our town. [hits table after pointing down] We are Blackthorn, we're its heart, its fist/hand, its wallet. We are the reason this dust-covered fleck on the map survives. We are the law. They need reminding of that. We gotta show them we're still strong, ain't gonna fragment [look back at Dave] as soon as fuckin' Louisiana drops the reins. We can be so much more than that.

[pause, gazing round the room]

With Nate, they were afraid - just afraid - to shoot us in the front. I can make it so they don't dare shoot us in the back. Like Charlie. Like maybe someone else in this room was planning for me, Mike, Frank, if the man I was chasing up there didn't do it.

[letting that sink in]

I want to make it so we can roam or drive anywhere we want and there won't be no squad of assassins coming in ruling our roost. Fucking our girlfriends, riding our range. I want it so we can leave at will and no-one'll come hurt [pointing] your mum, your wife, your kid sister, this kid, who's ours now - where's Tim gone? -for information or any damn reason at all. Nate showed them what we can do angry, I'm going to show them they prefer us happy. That they want to treat us right. Nate done wrong when he attacked the town, because there is no us and them. They gotta know it, or they side with the marshall. We are Blackthorn. Evans has no power we don't give him by making folks think we're out-of-towner bandits to be fought - I can make it so they run him out of town themselves, or we can sit back and watch him run around clucking, then shoot him in broad daylight, no masks. Y'all afraid? Or are you Dust Adders? Blackthorn.

[hand slapped flat on the table]

Blackthorn.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:19, Sat 30 Oct 2010.

In reply to Tim Landers (msg #143):

OOC:  I'm assuming OOC Charlie was the one Katy Devon shot that night they rode on the town?  IC I don't think Wildcat has a clue, other than by process of elimination and that they accused her of killing someone named Charlie.  I think the only Dust Adder to say his name or have others say his name around Wildcat was/is Jesse, and she'd possibly know his name from before anyway.  I don't think I got Luke's name either.

Her insides were like a tempest in a teapot.  She'd had years, years, to come to terms with it, but he sure hadn't.  She knew what she wanted to do, wanted to say, and knew it wouldn't do any good.  The reactions of people who've been there and done that are often surprising to those who haven't.

Wildcat's mind racked itself, trying to figure out what she meant.  Contrary to a lot of nonsense you heard, you had to shoot a man in the back pretty often.  It was often the only way to stop a bad man from getting away to hurt others.

She'd fired one shot in the initial assault, which had taken an Adder's hat off and he'd not been the worse for  wear.  She'd thrown the Adder in the abandoned house out into the street where he burned, so it couldn't have been him.  That might be the 'Charlie' mentioned, but this kid said his pa was shot.  The only Adder she'd actually shot was the one the others had called Jesse, and she shot him right to his face.  Then a horrible realization came to her.

She'd seen exactly one Adder shot in the back.  Ah hell.

Wildcat really had no problem with the Adders thinking that she was killing them off.  It didn't matter what she did or didn't do in fact, they were going to justify some way to hate her, it was their nature.  More importantly, it kept the heat off of Evans and his deputies, who could look like the lesser of two evils goods by comparison.

But before her didn't stand a Dust Adder.  Before her stood a younger Katrina Hawkins.  Before her stood a young person whose life was forever changed.  The death of her father had driven Wildcat to do everything she'd done up to this point.  For that she had no regrets, but she'd been lucky in a way.  Her father had been a brave and honorable man.  She couldn't be so sure about this kid's father.  Maybe he was complete scum, maybe he was misguided, either way it didn't matter, the effects could be the same.

And through all that troubled adolescence, what had kept Katrina sane?  Closure.  Sure she hated the SOB Hardin with every fiber of her being, who wouldn't?, but she knew, definitively, it was him.  Her rage was not misdirected.  What a horrible thing it would be to have staked her actions on this and have it be a damn lie.

He has to know the truth, or at least, the part of it he wants to know.  She didn't have to finger the real shooter, but she had to look him in the eyes and tell him the truth.  This kid was in for a hell of a ride, mentally and emotionally.  She wanted to help him, but he'd have to trust her, believe her.  The best thing she had for that was the truth, the simple truth.

"I can't make you believe me, but yer the one pointin' a gun at me.  I wouldn't lie to you about whether or not I done shot yer pa."  Wildcat tells him.  "But I've only actually kilt one man using my gun since I been here, and it was jus' a little while ago, today actually, and it was right to his face."

Wildcat moves her duster and points to the tear in her blouse. "He even winged me, right here.  I didn't even want to kill him, I wanted to take him to jail.  So I either shot him in the front, or I didn't shoot him at all.  If I shot him in the front then his name was Jesse, otherwise, I couldn't have shot him personally because you say he was shot in the back.  Which is it?"

In reply to Gangatsu (msg #139):

The roughneck snorts as he comes to. "...wha? Oh."

He sits up and rubs his eyes. "Damn. I'd kill for some coffee." he grumbles, then takes a look outside.

Outside the mine entrance, it's darker, but it's still raining.

"Well, damn." he mutters. "Guess we can't go back out there yet. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it rains all night. April showers and all that. It gets pretty wet this time o' year."

He looks back at Gangatsu, eying her bare legs. "O' course, I can think of a few ways to pass the time, if'n yer up fer it..."

In reply to Carl (msg #144):

There's some nods of assent and a few muttered murmurs of "Damn right" from the assembled.  Underhill, though, just stands around, looking confused.

"Take a hike, Underhill." Dave growls at the reedy man. "We got some important hings to discuss that you ain't a part of."

"But this is my shop!" He protests.

"Git!" Dave growls.

Underhill sighs. "Very well. I'll be in the back if anyone needs me." he slinks off into the back room

Dave turns back to Carl. "So. Lot's of pretty gestures there. None of it resembles no damn plan, though, so if'n you got an actual plan in mind, we're listenin'."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #145):

[[OOC: Your process of elimination is correct. And no, I don't think you got Luke's name, either, which will be fun explaining to the Dust Adders when they ask...]]

The child's hands shake while Wildcat talks. "b-but...they all said..."

"Give me the gun, son." comes a familiar voice from nearby. Evans, now wearing an overcoat to ward off the driving rain, steps off the boardwalk.

"You are pointing that gun at the wrong person." he says. "So if you're going to actually shoot someone, shoot me. I'm the one responsible for your father's death."

The boy whirls around, aiming for the Marshal. "WHY!?"

"Because I had no choice. Because your father was threatening people, and had to be stopped before he harmed an innocent girl. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. But before you pull that trigger, know that killing me won't help ease your pain. It won't make you feel any better about losing your dad. It won't bring him back. It will just make you a murderer."

Evans stands up tall, looming over the pair in the street. "I didn't have a choice, child. But you do. You can pull that trigger..." he holds out a hand. "Or you can be the better man and hand over the gun."

The boy wavers...then drops the pistol and sinks to the ground, sobbing. "Pa..." He cries.

He was calmer, that was for sure.

 She honestly never thought this place in blackthorn ever seen much rain at all to be something almost seasona. THough that does take her back a bit. Was it truly April?

" It's spring already..?" She murmured, shifting her hips to the side and  when Guss looks back, that short dress like robe stopping on her thighs gave little glances like those cheeky can-can outfits. Only it was a bit more fitting and less guady.  At his comment, green eyes drew back to him with a mild lift of her brow and a slight twitch of a smirk.

" I'm up fer a walk. Get yer pants on an' come wit meh." She grabbed her sheathed sword from it's place leaning against a the cavern wall and leans there herself to wait for him. " Please." She added on after a considerable moment.

In reply to The Stray (msg #148):

Wildcat can't take it any more and uses her one good arm to hug the boy, even though he probably doesn't want her to.  At this point she's crying too.

"I was fourteen years old when a man named Hardin shot my pa."  she says softly, not really trying to whisper or hide it, but speaking softly.  "And if you want to get some revenge, real revenge, I can tell you how."

Carl gives a thin smile. "..." Then he puts the gun safely away, leans down and swiftly, efficiently, deprives Jesse's corpse of the $2 given him minutes before and the $40 earnt in the gulley. It's a stone cold gesture, but those who rode to the gulley with him, those who heard his calling-out of Frost and know of his commitment to the gang, won't doubt the money's going straight back to them. Keep moving.

Carl counts out the undertaker's fee and leaves that on the table, then steps out...to find the goddamn Ranger snuggled up to their boy. It almost draws a literal growl from the Dust Adder. Femminine instincts must've got the better of her. Christ, she's even sniffling. Carl steps up.

He sees Evans, considers shooting him, but recalls in time that Ward wants him placated and so holds up a hand to stop/remind the boys and tugs his hatbrim to him, jerking his head back inside to indicate there's something the marshal wants to see in there.

Then he kneels and reaches into his duster. Wildcat will find an almost-empty flask and a full $10 between her and Timothy, which will be gently tapped against her face like one might nudge a dog until she backs off if she doesn't shift of her own accord. For the second time that day - that year, in fact - Carl's voice is heard, low but carrying:

"Go get well, Ranger. I won't kill you wounded."

It's not a threat, or bravado, just spoken like something that's going to happen at some point, grey eyes holding hers. She may realise at this point that the money and whatever horrible substitute for liquor is in the flask are being offered to her.

Wildcat manages the sheer muster to ignore the damnable Adder for the moment.  This is more important.

"You will survive, even though it doesn't seem like it right now.  I meant what I said.  You want that kind of help, you come find me, now or years from now.  But right now your ma needs you.  Go to her."

It's amazing how fast Wildcat can shift from one radical emotional state to another.  The scowling, hard faced Ranger comes back once the boy leaves her.

"If that's really what ya want, I reckon it's best you take them home after yer done with arrangements here.  Yer boys seem to believe the gambler's fallacy that the next bullet they put in me is going to do something the last few didn't.  And sorry, but I can't accept that."  Wildcat matches his factual tone, but her last statement has a double meaning.  "Arrests will be made, but not today.  I ain't the only one that's got to go do some stitchin' before something else goes down."

Wildcat looks at the kid.

Carl shakes his head slightly and nods back at Dave, almost a schoolboy indication of my-friend-fancies-you.
"..."
He'll pay enough attention to Tim to reassure/shelter him if looked to, but won't stop the boy going where he wants.

He shrugs a bit at Wildcat's growling, puts the offered aid away, stands and steps past her into the street. Then seizes her good arm and her bad shoulder from behind, keeping her down.

Whether Evans is witness or no, he catches Dave's eye, jerks his head back a little and makes a brief moue. Wildcat can feel a grip that's not intended to hurt her, though it's not overly gentle - is indifferent to her, really. It seems he isn't planning to hold on long, just long enough for something to happen.


[[OOC: My sincere apologies, Wildcat, Carl is a (protective) bastard and you just got caught up in intra-pack dominance wrangling.
9 grapple]]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Sun 31 Oct 2010.

Likewise, Wildcat isn't about to let Carl actually touch her even if she'll respect what passes for civility, and if he wants to keep this a brawl she won't escalate it.  At the same time getting pinned by Carl is just asking to be slashed in the throat or worse.  A right hook, a thumb in the eye, a counter wrist lock, and a good old fashioned nose breaking head butt are all still viable deterrent options even with a bum arm.

I believe that should be either an opposed Agility roll or a Notice roll or something since Carl is right there, not to mention I think we're both a might curious to see what Evans does and whether I can count him for Ganging Up purposes.  I'll wait for The Stray to rule on all that.

Why must I be so popular today...

[[OOC: Opposed Agility or Fighting rolls (whichever you prefer to use) works for me. However, see below.]]

While Tim runs away to find his mom, Evans frowns at the scene.

"So this is the disturbance I heard about." Evans says, pulling a black revolver from under his overcoat. It's not cocked, but then, it's Nathaniel Frost's double-action peacemaker, so it doesn't need to be. He holds it ready, but not aimed.

"I will ask you once. Unhand her and move along."

He paused, then adds with a half-smile, "Oh, and if you happen to see Nathaniel Frost, tell him I've got something of his, and I'm waiting for him to come and claim it, if he dares."

There's a rumble from the other Dust Adders, but no one makes a move, as they are waiting to see what Carl does.

In reply to Gangatsu (msg #149):

"Yup. Gonna be Easter this Sunday, in fact." Gus grunts at he pulls his pants back on. "egh. Still wet. Ah, well."

He arches an eyebrow at her. "Where do you expect to be goin', anyhow? The rain's still comin' down by the bucket out there."

Carl's shoulders start shaking. After a second it's apparent he's laughing, quite hard at that, eyes shut, lips skinned right back off his teeth...just not making a sound.

If the gun gets pointed at him he'll put a boot between Wildcat's shoulderblades and shove her off balance whilst letting go to avoid a fatal stab to the thigh or worse, then gesture again for Evans to go into the undertaker's with a most florid bow of mock-contrition and messengerly correctness.

If it doesn't, he'll keep eye contact with Dave until the latter does something or Wildcat gets dangerous to hold onto, calling Evans' bluff. After all, he's not the only one with a gun.


[[Aye, he's expecting some wildcat fury. He's actually not the one to watch at present, nor attempting assault, not that Wildcat knows that. Is it me or has "dealing with grief" become a strong theme of this game somewhere along the line?]]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Sun 31 Oct 2010.

" With all da dead walkin about, dat seems eerie." She returned, looking over the walls and something.. like a black cage caught her eyes a bit. Hanging on the wall was a latern. She picked it up and came closer to the cowboy as he pulled on his pants.

" Had ya not been ganderin' so hard, I prolly could'a did sumptin about it." She murmured. " well, if ya get a light in this, figure we'll walk down the mine a bit. See how far it winds."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:13, Mon 01 Nov 2010.

Either way Wildcat will at least try to get Carl off of her, will be a bit hard in the shape she's in.

23:05, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 3,4 using 1d6-1,1d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 4,5. fighting roll w/penalties.

Charging Bear finished his investigation in the room, in what seemed like a matter of moments, and that's when he heard the commotion across the street. Thanks to his second story vantage he saw the events unfold fairly well. Carl and the Adders had a solid advantage over a wounded Ranger and Evans, 9 on 2 huh.  His sense of heroics perhaps got the better of him, as he climbed out the window onto the eave below and took a running leap across the street towards Carl.

OOC: Alright... so I've got to cover 3 squares with this jump based roughly on the map.
09:17, Today: Charging Bear rolled -1,2 using 1d8-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. Strength (-2 MAP).
That won't do. White chip to reroll
09:18, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,-1 using 1d8-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 6,1. Strength (-2 MAP) White Chipped!.
That should cover the distance... but am I on target? Fighting vs Carl w/ a 5 parry
09:19, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,4 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. Fighting (-2 MAP, +2 Unarmed).
So close! Spending a Red chip for a +1d6
09:20, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4. Red Chip.

[[OOC: Wow...*clap* that was awesome. Are you grappling, or doing unarmed damage? Either way, I'd certainly count this as The Drop. I also want you to make an Agility roll to avoid taking damage from the fall and collision.]]

Evans does, in fact, raise his pistol at Carl when the man doesn't let her go immediately.

He watches Carl do his mock bow and is about to respond when there's a blur of motion and it suddenly rains Indians...or at least one very large Indian. Evans yelps in surprise, as does more than a few Dust Adders.

A few of them move forward, but Dave sticks his hand out to restrain them.

OOC: Really just want to shove Carl off Wildkitten

20:13, Today: Charging Bear rolled 7,3 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,3. Agility.

[[OOC: Alrighty, then. That's a success in avoiding damage, and a success in knocking Carl away.]]

"I owe you two fire waters."  Wildcat tells the red man, regretting for the second time today not making his acquaintance yet.  Her voice is small but steady as she regains her feet and her equilibrium, eyes cast at the dusty ground.

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.  The voice narrating was her mother's.

It may have been just as well she should have kept looking down, for when the white brim raises, Wildcat's eyes burn like cobalt fire.  She had had enough from these damned Dust Adders and their back and forth ways.  Her patience for the tin-horn lot was gone.  The Single Action Army cleared its speed cut holster and she thumbed the hammer back, her teeth bared.  The bore was aimed square at Carl.

"You yellow dog, you come over here an' talk like yer offerin' some kind of fair fight, struttin' 'round here like the sun comes up just to hear you crow!  I tried to be nice about it, but let me spell it for you."

Wildcat takes one step toward Carl.  It's only one step, but its message is clear.  She looks him square in the eye.

"You.  Ain't.  Killin'.  Me.  Today or any day.  You can put your boots in the oven but that don't make 'em biscuits."

Wildcat keeps one eye on Carl but looks at the rest.

 "Boys it's time to paint your butt white and run with the antelope.  It's time to make six ways from Sunday, right now.  This ain't yer shootin' gallery.  This ain't a place the lot of you are going to ride around like yer anything but the snakes you are.  Ya'll are as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party.

"Now Git.  And tell your boss howdy for me."

In reply to Gangatsu (msg #158):

He laughs. "You know, I never thought of it that way. Undead rising on Easter...that's good! Deaders for Jesus!"

He stops when she tells him where they're going. "Now hold on a moment. That mine's a deathtrap, girl. You so much as sneeze, and the roof might come down on you. There's a reason there ain't been no one down near the cave-in since it happened."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #164):

"Horsehit!" Dave spits. "You think you can come here and order us about? This is our fuckin' home, girl. And there ain't shit you can do about that. We ain't done nothin' you can prosecute us for, but if'n you go pokin' yer nose into shit that don't concern you and makin' a nuisance, well, yer gonna get it chopped off and fed to ya. Yer as welcome here as Abraham fuckin' Lincoln, and you'll be as dead as him, too, if you don't keep yer shit to yerself. Go crawl away and find a hole to bleed to death in."

"Oh I beg to differ."  Wildcat's smile is as sweet as sugar.  "Either you git, or I slap the cuffs on yer boy here for attempted bribery and assault of a peace officer.  Ah don't really care."

Evans lays a hand on Wildcat's shoulder. "Peace, Miss Hawkins. We don't want to start a fight, just keep order."

He leans down and whispers. "Remember, we have <i>much more important</i> things to worry about!"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:39, Tue 02 Nov 2010.

" Su. Names Su." She started with a cant of her head at the fellow, that should be easy enough for him to remember. Eyes looked down in the darkness and then back to the cowboy with his warning.

" Don't know bout a sneeze, it's still solid after our cummin'. If d'ere is a reason and not ye just stallin, then al'ight. Tell me."

"Sue? Ok, then."  Gus says, pulling a pack of chaw out of his shirt pocket and carving off a plug. "Maybe not a sneeze. But it sure as hell ain't stable, and besides that, no one goes down there real far without Ward's say-so. Which we ain't got."

"And besides," he says with a shiver, "there's somethin' down there...somethin' mean."

Carl had wondered, briefly, what everyone was looking at. "...-"

Then he found himself several feet down the road, breathless, and pinned by a big heap of warrior. Charging Bear would have seen startlement take over the man's features like flicking a switch - not terror but as strong as that, the brain slammed back to instinct in a situation occuring too fast and randomly to process.

Unfortunately for Carl, the preservation instinct that hits surface isn't from his militia days, rodeos, or even the wrangler's urge to avoid cutting hooves when downed. It's the sheer bone-deep instinct of a nine-year-old boy who learnt to judge whether Pa had had enough to use that bottle by the force with which he was struck across a room. It's not dignified, or intelligent, but for an instant Carl's literally startled out of his wits and doesn't care who's watching: he twists and bites Charging Bear at the bone of the wrist, heart hammering, hopefully causing enough shift to get his arm up to protect his head.


[[I reckoned that probably deserved a fighting roll - 5, which I think would be sucessfully painful but not injurous, which is realistic...]]

As clarity returns, he realises someone's talking to him. The Ranger. He looks back. Before, there was no personal hatred in his gaze; now he is clearly daring Wildcat to pull the trigger. Come on, murderer. Me, or you, someday..

Wildcat may recall she just killed a man who was mostly bark and no bite. It might or might not occur to her to think what would happen if such a boy, years younger, looking for work, fell in with another just his opposite. Forged a common bond in common work until the traits exaggerated. Two boys like two sides of a coin. Two men apt to scrap at every turn but close as brothers. What would happen if one died.

The idea that the offered doctor's fees were intended as a bribe brings a faint, bitter smile to Carl's face. It'll be even funnier when she realises there's no jail and the sole assault charge she has on him is taking her by the arm. He meets Dave's gaze briefly, to show he's unafraid. "..."

Ward..

That man's name comes up around everything that's fishy, but he's not the enemy.. How is that? She looked to Gus a bit, catching the shake in his tone. Maybe it is this location, where those people died.. Maybe they found something down there..

" I felt that.. I had a very.. Very weird, very lucid dream. I hardly rememebr my dreams, but this, I remember down ta de last detail. It had this.. large round room with snakes carved into the walls, a high ceiling with a strange light, and a large alter.. I never been there before, but.." She looked down for a moment and rubbed her eyes a litte. She was too well rested to be hallucinating.

" Do you have any idea of what's down there? Or are we really going to have to talk to Ward about it. Fu'k.. Tis hopin to have gotten to the tribe and ask them about all this... Dun't think i'll get anywhere closer to the end.. "

"Oh, yeah." Dave says at Carl's nod. He turns to Evans. "Dr. Ward would like to deliver his personal apologies to you over last night's 'incident', as well as his assurances that such 'horrible misconduct' will never occur again...if he's in a position to prevent it."

Evans gives him a mock bow. "I see. Apology noted. Now, do you gentlemen have any further business here? If not, I suggest taking your leave. It's nearly suppertime, after all."

The Dust Adders look at Dave and Carl, waiting to see what the two do.

Carl won't be doing anything unless he's freely let up, though he'll happily limp straight over to the Grand Bull if that happens, ignoring any protest by the law up to and including use of firearms. He thinks Dave should state their buisness, though. "..."

In reply to Gangatsu (msg #172):

"Well, I ain't never seen nothin' like that down there," Gus muses, "but I surely can tell you what I have seen. When Ward bought this land, he was thinkin' of doin' something with it to try and get the town back on it's feet. The mine wasn't played out when the cave-in happened...he figured that if he cleared it, he could get it open again, maybe get the town right prosperous again."

He shivered. "Eight of us went down. We got to the block, started trying to prop the area up and clear out the boulders. Made a decent haul of it, too, till we hit the spot where the miners died. There were bones all around the place...and then the bones got up. They rolled into one giant fucking weird thing with four arms and like three legs, and started tearing into the guys. We broke it down...but then the bones got back together and stood up again...and again...and after we broke it down the third time, well, Jeff and Harry were dead and I was down for the count. I heal fast, but not THAT damn fast. Nate had us pack it in and we high-tailed it back to the ranch. Tex wanted to collapse the roof on it again, smash it to powder...but even then we weren't sure that would stop it."

He takes a deep breath. "To tell the truth, that's why we were keepin' them rustlers on the property, instead of turning them over to the Marshal when we caught 'em. Ward figgered they were gonna hang anyhow, so why not make 'em useful and clear out the cave-in. It never did attack them, though...maybe we broke it right the last time, but I ain't ashamed to admit I'm not in a real big hurry to find out for sure, if you catch my meaning."

In reply to Carl (msg #174):

Dave nods at Carl, and then spits. "Yeah, we got business. We were here for the funeral of the friend your bitch-ass Ranger shot in the back last night. And now she's murdered another of our friends in cold blood while some of us were doing the kindness of trying to find the sunovabitch who put all those holes in her just now. So if you're gonna clamp irons on anyone, clamp them on that murderin' whore before she slaughters anyone else."

Evans' face goes impassive. "Really."

"Sure is. May God strike me down if I'm lyin'."

Lightning crashes in the distance.

Charging Bear lets out a loud grunt as Carl bites into his wrist. "Son ofa..." The native son snatches the dust adder to his feet by the collar of his coat. Charging Bear looks down at Carl and in a gruff whisper says, "The hell do you think you're doing... I recall Ward saying ya'll weren't to cause trouble... now you're another man down."

OOC: Sorry folks I don't typically post in the evenings my time (US-Eastern Standard)

"Marshall, in case you can't tell, I'm a little busted up at the moment.  They've prevented me from attempting to recover twice now, and it's not going to happen while they're still here.  One of them will just keep stringing it out.  As much as they say they want an even fight, they don't mean it."  She tells the Marshall.

For Wildcat there was no choice.  The Adders smelled blood, could see she was tore up.  The last one to pledge there'd be no more killing today had tried to set her up for assault, kidnapping, torture, or worse.  It was like having nine anvils chained to your ankles.  She could do nothing about the vampires, or the assassins, or anything else while they were still here.  They were obsessed with her, she could see it now, to the point of blaming her for things that didn't even happen. Either they left town or they'd just keep throwing themselves at her until she gave out.

Still, she'd tried this Evans way one more time, fully realizing they wouldn't listen.

"Either way, your business here today is done, and those two suspects are at large, an' every minnit you spend jawin' at us is another minnit they have to git gone."

She looked at them, hoping to see the wheels turn in their thick skulls.  They knew they were just staying in town to be a pain in the ass, and they knew that their presence monopolized her time.  It was very simple to see that it was to their advantage to let the damnable Ranger and the thorn in their side Marshall deal with the assassins.  Whichever side won, it was a victory for the Dust Adders and they didn't have to lift a finger.

But at the same time, she realized their obsession with her probably precluded such a reasonable argument, even one based purely on selfish desires.  Still it was only this one that seemed particularly preoccupied with her.  The problem was he was the alpha dog.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:29, Tue 02 Nov 2010.

"And every minute we engage in this pissing contest between you and them we grow closer to a possible vampire apocalypse scenario." he replies back. "So for God's sake, Miss Hawkins, let them think they've won for now, so we can get back to saving the whole city from being overrun!"

Carl gives Charging Bear a hard look, steel tempered in grief - the injun saw him try to rein Jesse in, saw it working until the Ranger showed. Can hear it's Dave undermining what Charging Bear knows is true, weakening both his overt control and any chance of patching things properly.

It's as he jerks his head at the two of them to emphasise this that he realises. Carl blinks, frowning, then gives Dave a fey, disbelieving grin. She thought they were going to hurt her. She wasn't mad because she'd been held down - and he'd been counting on that getting her riled enough to go for Dave rather than him - she was mad because she was scared.

Carl shakes mud from himself and shrugs, then gives the gang half a grin.
"..."

He beckons them down into the street and - however many follow - makes his way across the street towards food and warmth and alcohol.

Letting Carl go was as easy as removing his hands from the man's coat, with a slight nod to the silent man Charging Bear did just that. He'd seen this sort of power struggle play out and wanted it to do so outside of town.

The native son walked over to Marshell Evans. He put a hand on Frost's pistol and pushed down gently, as though making sure Evans seemed nonthreatening. "Sorry for not coming back last night, sir. Things got a little ... out of hand out on the Circle W Ranch. I'll tell you more about it else where, preferably with a dry set of clothing." He looked down at the pistol, "I'll take that pistol if you don't mind; I don't see Frost needing it where he is now, and I might be needing it soon."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:39, Tue 02 Nov 2010.

Kat lowers her weapon at the dirt and lowers the hammer once the Adders are gone, and carefully reholsters.

"Well the jury's in.  Yer a good man, Evans.  You'll probably live longer than I will, but you don't give scum like that anything when they've proven themselves to be liars.  Besides, the more I provoke 'em, the more you look like the voice of reason."

She fishes in her duster, and realizes that what she's looking for takes two hands, and gives it up.

"As fer that sixgun, we're all gonna need one.  We're probably safe for a bit, but it's only a matter of a few minutes before one of them varmints gets enough sheep dip in 'im ta decide he's gonna be the hero that shoots the Marshall, or avenges his idiot friend who wanted to shoot me, or blow somethin' up."

She shakes her head.

"I ain't even made it to th' telegraph office yet, dammit.  But by way of apology to this fine gentleman for my jackass manners towards him up to this point, ah think he outta be the first one ta fill you full of his recently acquired knowledge, Marshal.  But I would recommend that one of ya'll take that six gun across lots to Mr. Roland's establishment an' just make yerself visible.  He's a good man too, sticks his neck out in a fight that's not his.

"I'd go myself but I got an appointment with Underhill, a bullet, a pair of pliers and maybe a sip of brandy if'n I'm lucky.  Looks like I've got a scratch.

She looks at Charging Bear directly.  "Mighty sorry to meet you this way.  Katrina Hawkins...  I understand if you don't want to shake on it, bein' I'm a bloody mess an' all.  Powerful rude of me.  Should have cleaned up first."

The Native son extends his hand to the ranger, "I'm called Charging Bear, a pleasure to meet ya Ms Hawkins. I imagine if you survive all of this you'll earn your silver star and stripe." he says with a smile.

After a moment or two the man's face shifts to a more serious look, "But you'd best get to the telegraph and inform your people of whatever you've been dealing with and add to that that there is a serious possibility of a powerful and rather nasty spirit making deals around here." He pauses then sighs, "I've a feeling that Dr Ward woke it up and some of his men have been making deals with it. Ward has a large and rather elaborate circle inlaid with turquoise and lapis lazuli in his work shop. Spirit is probably Aztec in origin... Quetzalcoatl, Xiuhcoatl, Mixcoatl, or Tezcatlcoatl... not sure which it is."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:57, Tue 02 Nov 2010.

Perhaps incredibly (or perhaps not as Charging Bear's past experiences with white people are completely unknown to Kat at this point), she doesn't doubt a single word the Indian tells her.

"Damn... think they're related?"  she asks Evans.  "Or do you not believe in spirits neither?"  It was a bit of good natured ribbing at this point.  Wildcat was long since past the point of rubbing it in.

She looks back to Charging Bear.  "Them's some long words.  I ain't got no idea how to spell any of that.  But I'll try."

And in a lower voice, not even intended for Evans, she adds.  "And I'd appreciate it if ya kept that little detail under yer bonnet fer now.  The Dust Adders are right, but fer the wrong reason.  I probably am going to jail, but not yet, and not fer shootin' no damn Dust Adder."

I'm glad he's on our side, this Injun's a smart as a whip.  Wildcat sighed.  She'd been running that bluff since she got here.  Between impersonating a commissioned Ranger and killing the judge, her hide would be well and truly tanned if she ever left Blackthorn.  All she was supposed to do was ride into town, track down the Judge and ride out.  But these people need help now, and they ain't sendin' no one else.

Even then it didn't matter, she'd been a liar, prideful, and a hypocrite.  The wounds finally started to ache.

"Marshall... before I go skedaddling off, is there a church in town?"

The Dust Adders slowly wander away, but they go.

Evans sighs and looks at Chargign Bear. "We've also had a bit of a bad day...but yes, I'm very interested in having a long conversation and comparing notes."

at the mention of the pistol, he shakes his head. "No, I'd prefer to keep it with me. Frost may have escaped, but I have no doubt he'll be coming back one day, and I'd prefer to be ready. Besides, I'm going to need a pistol of some kind to modify into a new sidearm for myself, if I ever get the damn time." He bends down and picks up the pistol that Tim dropped earlier. "Here. This should help. You'll probably need to clean it, but it should still be serviceable."

"Liars?" Evans says, raising an eyebrow at Wildcat's comment. "The Dust Adders as a whole have never struck me as liars. Thugs, bullies, and the sort who get violent with too much booze in them, yes, but not liars. And I think we're going to have to have a good, long discussion about how not to kick at an angry dog when it's already bitten one once."

At the mention that Wildcat isn't commissioned, Evans goes a bit pale. "You mean you're not...oh dear. You're right, mentioning that would be bad. And we're going to have that little chat about not stirring up hornet's nests a little earlier, I think. But right now, you're all we've got. God help us."

He shakes his head. "Well, if you're referring to aetheric entities that can be easily mistaken for spirits, yes, I believe in those. And that would explain a few things. I wonder if the vampires are connected to it, or if they're a separate problem that decided to grace itself on our little town."

Evans nods at Wildcat's question. "Yes. We've even got a priest now. He's been cleaning the place up for the last few days. I'll give you directions" which he does.

He helps Wildcat into the Undertaker's office while they chat. He glares at Underhill, then looks at the three coffins.

"Oh, dear. You look like you've been busy lately." he says. "Which usually mean's I'm going to be busy, too."

Underhill grins. "Well! If it isn't Miss Annie Oakley!" he says, ignoring Evans, "My, those wounds look nasty. Come over here...I've been hoping to get a visit from you again, and now I get to get my hands on you!"

"Ya'll are going to have a talk with me?  Oh Marshal, I can't wait to hear this.  And if'n ya want, I can clean that peashooter out for you.  My rifle got rained on and left in the muddy street, I've got to clean the snot out of it, an' if yer gonna clean one shooting iron ya might as well clean a dozen.

Wildcat actually laughs at the undertaker's lechery.  "Yeah and you get a show too.  Get yer pliers, 'Doc'.  I felt the first four bullets go in, I'm not sure about the next two.  Have you got any whiskey?  And which one's your butcher's table?"

Wildcat borrows a cartridge from her own gunbelt.  This was going to hurt.

"Oh, joy. I can hardly wait." Wildcat can't really be sure if he's being sarcastic or dead serious.

He leads her over to a table, clears it off, and bids her to lay down. he hands her a bottle of whiskey to polish off while he does his initial examination, then has Evans and Charging Bear hold Wildcat down as he peels off her shirt and gets to work pulling bullets out.

*CLINK!*

*CLINK!*

*CLINK!*

Then he cleans the wounds, ignoring the screams as he does, then stitches.

He only gropes her once or twice as he works.

"You're lucky." he says as he's cleaning up. Wildcat can feel her arm again. It hurts, but she can move her fingers. "Or else I'm a miracle worker. You were only carrying three slugs...the others went clean through, or were just grazes. That one in your arm was the tricky one...damn near the nerve. Could have left you crippled, but you're lucky you had me here to get it out."

He goes to the wash basin. "Oh, and you only owe me five dollars for the service today...you've been very good for business, so I think you've earned a discount."

[[OOC: He aced on both his healing rolls. which is good, because he needed to since he only has a d4 healing skill and is an extra.

Silas Underhill rolled 4 using 1d4-2, rerolling max with rolls of (4+2)6. Healing check

Silas Underhill rolled 6 using 1d4-1, rerolling max with rolls of (4+3)7. Healing check.

That's both of Wildcat's current wounds.

All in all, this took 20 minutes, so the situation in the Oriental will probably be done with before any help arrives, and Carl can go lead the Dust Adders to the Grand Bull without any hindrances.]]

Time for some navel gazing on my part...

Kat screamed and tried not to jerk too much while the butcher worked.  Yelping in pain was okay, but moving was not.

She looked at her arm with mixed emotions.  That her fingers twitched again was a tremendous relief, but that burn... that thing was ugly.  She frowned.  It wouldn't even be visible when she was "in uniform" but she could forget looking good in anything else, unless very long gloves stayed in fashion.

"Ughhhh..."

The first one came out pretty quick.  Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.

What the hell was she thinking about clothes especially right now?  The thought shocked her.  Katrina Hawkins hadn't worn so much as a skirt since she was 16 years old.  For the first few months it was a matter of necessity to dress like a boy, until she'd been outed once anyone actually paid a lick of attention to her and after that it was just a matter of utility.  That's another bluff she'd failed to maintain for very long.  She definitely would never have made it as an actress.

When's the last time I wore a dress... she pondered, and realized it'd been her wedding gown.  That brought up some bad memories, but before she could relive them...

"Gaarrrgh God Almighty!"

God in heaven, that second one hurt like fire.  Curse that blasted shootist.

It rebooted her idle thought processes.  She wasn't mad at the red man, couldn't be.  He knew not what he did.  It's not that Evans didn't deserve to know, it's just he needed to believe in her.  Not even her, but rather that he wasn't alone, that some distant benefactors wouldn't tolerate this impossible situation.  Evans was a good man but he needed to be groomed to draw a hard line to persist as Marshal.  In a world full of grays, law men must force things into black and white.  Now she was just some trainee causing problems.

"There ain't no bullet over there Underhill."

She'd expected this, wasn't paying much attention to it.  It was part of the treatment, like the pain of the bullet coming out, or the needle passing through her skin.  But that feeling around under her left breast was getting to be a bit much.

God she must look a sight.  Clothes caked in blood and road dust, and her hair felt like it was matted down with the guts of some animal.  Probably her own-

The next cry was a shriek, a shrill sound that definitely didn't come from a man.

All right, that one was just embarrassing.  She'd just sit there a minute, and pretend that didn't just happen.

Wildcat flops down a small bar of gold that ought to cover it.  One of the damned Adders had mentioned King Yankee himself, who'd said something about fooling people.  Running bluffs clearly wasn't her style, but maybe some of the people all of the time would suffice.  Someone had to make Underwood's coffins.  They'd have wood working tools.

"Heh, the law here's in a bad way."  Wildcat tells Underhill, grudgingly buttoning up her gore spattered work blose.  "Ain't got 'nuff six guns to go around, ain't got no scatterguns, just spent a chunk of my last few dollars gettin' stitched, an' the Marshal here can't even find sharpened wood dowels fer his new Aether Mangle."

John Smith:

It is wet. The rain beats down on the lone man as he wanders along the creek. He;d gotten separated from the Asian woman earlier, said he'd wanted to try and pick up some clues of his own...and the storm had come on suddenly, like a judgment from the heavens.

And this wasn't like those squalls that sometimes shook the Maze. This storm was mean and angry, ripping into the land, tearing at bushes, sending moisture up every orifice, even those covered with heavy layers of clothes. No wonder he hated Texas...even the weather was bigger here.

luckily for him, he spots the glimmer of light from what seems to be a well-appointed ranch house. Finally. Let's just hope someone is actually home...and that they're friendly to visitors wearing a badge.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:05, Wed 03 Nov 2010.

Had learned patience, had learned calm, had learned a great many things from his old master, but at the moment none of them kept him from cussing up a storm to rival the one blowing and beating down on him. That would teach him to try and wander off on his own in a land he was unfamiliar with. By God in heaven was there any land as wretched as the hell hole that was Texas? "And then y'can shove it right up yer ass before ya'turn the winch!" he shouted to the skies. His cursing ceased as he noticed the light in the distance and found himself running where before he had been trudging. His duster as soaked as a duster might get he climbed the stairs to the porch.

He paused before he reached the door, the directions he had received, provided he hadn't gotten terribly lost, had indicated this was Wards ranch. He had no clue as to what to expect here so he took a moment to compose himself which amounted to some ragged breathing and shivering as he tried to center his mind from it's earlier frustrations. He didn't know if anyone within would be friendly or not, especially to someone wearing a badge, and given he had some questions to ask Ward that weren't 'official' in any respects he decided to keep his duster buttoned shut. Sure he wouldn't be able to reach his dragon-staff but he'd be able to reach the river stones in his pocket and his hands and feet were weapons unto themselves. Raising a fist he rapped his calloused knuckles against the door three times making sure the knock was heavy and loud, hopefully loud enough to be heard over the rain.

They'd followed. Good. Carl had halted everyone on the porch out of the rain and gestured for them to enter in pairs at most, to and keep it quiet. Dave last, since technically he was barred - Carl didn't want him far out of sight right now. Best to keep them waiting a little for the Idea, and food was first order of buisness.

Carl lets Max and Todd go in before he himself enters the establishment. If Mike and Percy are at the bar (with a revived Frank or otherwise) he'll sit beside them, otherwise just nod that he's coming over in a moment. He's sure to look for Danielle and Tim in the not unlikely event they've drifted over here, and pushes away the thought of the long ride out to Jesse's pa's place. Later.

He gives the barkeep a small, self-mocking smile for being quite so covered in mud, bordering on apology. Then he points at a bottle and holds up two fingers, putting the money on the counter but keeping his hand subtly over it until Roland starts pouring.

When the barkeep finishes and glances down, he'll see the fine buckle from his brother's favourite hat in amongst the change. Not something Nate would part with alive. Carl holds his gaze, then silently indicates his weapon. Frost died like a man. No shame to his family from a hanging.


[[playing Reknown, too]]
This message was last edited by the player at 08:09, Wed 03 Nov 2010.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #188):

"Well, perhaps you should remember that before you decide to pick a fight with the Dust Adders. They all have pistols and scatterguns, and aren't afraid to use 'em...even on their leaders."

"What do you mean by that?" Evans asks, raising an eyebrow.

Underhill hikes a thumb towards the three coffins. "One of my new clients is Nathanial Frost himself. Or at least what's left of him after the quiet fella finished filling him with buckshot. Seems Ward wasn't too happy about last night's little shootout, so he organized a posse to go after him. It's all those boys were talking about, aside from getting revenge against the 'damn Ranger' for the other two clients I got here, as well as for someone called 'Luke' that's supposed to be in your custody."

Evans practically falls into a chair, and sits in shock. After a minute, he composes himself and looks at Charging Bear. "And when, exactly, where you planning on sharing this information with me?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:36, Wed 03 Nov 2010.

In reply to Carl (msg #191):

Roland seems a bit nervous already, with all of the Dust Adders filing in to his place. He's managed to get the window borded up, and the table out of the wall (though there's a hole straight through it to the kitchen), so the place is looking at least a little more presentable.

When Carl lays the buckle on the bar, Roland stares at it, digesting the implications.

Finally, he gets enough voice to ask "Where is he now?"

OOC: It should be noted that I sleep when you yahoos are all awake and posting 30 times

---

In reply to Silas Underhill (msg #192):
Charging Bear looks at the previously discarded weapon thrust at him by Evans. Taking it in hand he nodded slightly to Wildkitten's offer of cleaning, "I'm sure I'll manage ma'am." He wipes the mud off the weapon and holds onto it as the group shifts into the undertaker's house of rest.

As Underhill fixes Wildkitten and spouts off about the Dust Adders, Charging Bear realizes that Evans didn't get his meaning earlier. He gives the marshal a slight smile, as though to say well you dunce, before saying "I didn't want to mention Frost's death infront of the Adders ... it might have caused them to get more riled up. Though I thought you'd've gotten my meaning when I said Frost wouldn't be needing it where he is now."

[[@ CB - what are they like, posting at three in the morning, huh? tch.]]

Carl downs most of the alcohol whilst Roland stares, saving a little for his shoulder. He nods across the road towards Underhill's at the question, then sort of winces and shakes his head slightly like 'you don't want to see him'.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #194):

[[OOC: It's all in good fun...remember that I have frequent insomnia and no job, so posting frequently is rather easy for me...]]

"I thought you meant that he got away." He says. "I think you had better give me a rundown of just what it was you experienced over at Ward's place, and I can fill you in on what's been going on here." He looks the native son over. "It certainly looks like you've been through some adventures."

He turns to Underhill. "Good sir, would you please give us some privacy?" He pulls out a few coins and holds them. "Go get something to eat. On me."

The coins vanish into the undertaker's pockets. "I do feel rather peckish. It's been a busy day, after all. toodle-oo!" He steps out of the shop and walks down towards the Grand Bull.

Evans returns his gaze to Charging Bear. "So. Weave me a story, sir."

"Marshal, Deputy Bear, before this gets started, is this somethin' important I need ta shut up and listen to, or should I make that telegraph run five minnits ago?"

"I rather believe it's the former, Miss Hawkins. Commissioned or not, we need all the help we can get, and you need to know just what's going on if you're going to be able to lend a hand." Evans says. "And, if you do well, you might manage to pull some kind of commendation out of the situation to balance out whatever trouble you'll catch from killing His Honor."

Wildcat snorts with laughter, but not at Evans.  "Well bucking rules is how I got called Wildcat in th' first place Marshal, but it weren't meant as no compliment.  I ain't even that worried about killin' th' judge by itself at this point since I'll be lucky if they don't throw me in the pokey for this passle of dumbass stunts I done pulled already."  She shrugs.  "I don't regret it though.  Best case scenario, they send a real Ranger out here.  Anyway I'll shut up now, I am mighty interested to hear this."

Charging Bear nods, "Alright Marshal, as you know the automaton Alouette, Augustus Spotswood, and myself went out to Ward's place. Turns out those dead, not dead Union boys were cattle rustlers, or so Ward said. One of them Danny boy was at Ward's place and in bad shape. I've a feeling someone has been playing with medicine or magics out there. Frost returned from whatever he did here and that caused a good bit of issue. Danny seemed to use it to get away from Ward and the rest of us and ran out into the barn. We went after him and met resistance from another Union soldier, he wore private stripes. He looked dead as dead can be but was walking, talking and fighting with the best of us. Also he knew things no one alive should know... " the native son stopped talking, and his hand drifted to the small doll around his neck.

"But in the end the dead private died again... though seemed to dissolve into black smoke that dissipated, with only a bloody smear behind to indicate it was ever there in the first place, that Union soldier must have had a real hate for Confederates. We found a seemingly dead Danny in the barn and brought him back into the house. Alouette put the boy in the pantry as Ward patched me up, "  Charging Bear lightly touches the bandage on his side.

"After that, Ward patch up me and Gus and even Frost, and we all went to sleep... the next morning Gangatsu arrived. She and Ward got into a bit of an argument ending with Ward challenging her to a dual. As that was happening Danny got up from his 'possum attempt and tried to get away again. Gangatsu, Gus and Alouette took Danny off, where I'm not sure right now.

Ward agreed to turn Frost over to me, to be brought to justice in town. Frost however had other plans and had apparently left the ranch in the night. He had made camp in a gorge not too far away however and had also setup an ambush for us. He dropped Ward and in the end Carl challenged Frost to a duel... which that silent son ofa bitch won. Though shotgun and carbines are odd dueling weapons. The Dust Adders and I brought Frost here to be buried, while Ward and Augustus went back to the ranch house."

The native son pause again, running over the events of the past day or so in his mind. "Already told you about the strangeness in Ward's barn... and that's about the long of the short of it Marshal."


OOC: I think I got the highlights without talking about too much Charging Bear didn't see/hear about.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:39, Wed 03 Nov 2010.

Evans nods as he listens. "Hmmm. Who is this 'Spotswood' character? I don't believe we've met. I think that 'Gus' you mentioned is Gus Shaw, correct?"

he frowns. "Well. That's illuminating. Let me tell you about the night we've had."

"We haven't had any new undead attacks in town, at least not of the Yankee kind, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Apparently, kicking the Dust Adders out of the Grand Bull the other day riled Frost up enough that he decided to try and run me and all the deputies I've hired out of town. They blew up my office and then went after the Grand Bull to trash the place."

"Miss Gangatsu saved my life after they tossed a stick of dynamite in the place. We went out and confronted Frost, but he sent this giant goon that called himself 'Tex' into the saloon as an alternative to explosives. He seemed to be quite effective in that regard, throwing a table through a wall. Miss Gangatsu headed him off while I faced down Frost. I challenged him to a duel, like the silent fellow you mentioned, but in this case my gyromounted pistol suffered a critical malfunction at the worst possible moment and I was left without a weapon to defend myself with."

"That was when Miss Hawkins arrived on the scene. She managed to scatter some of the Dust Adders, and she, Robert, and a lady named Katy Devon inflicted most of the casualties the Dust Adders suffered. John Smith got the drop on Frost, sending him running, and the others followed. During the confusion we somehow managed to capture the giant. I'm still not quite sure how we pulled that one off, as it's clear he could have swatted us all with little trouble if he'd put his mind to it."

"We managed to get a few answers out of him before he decided to take his leave and we let him go to circumvent any further destruction. I filled Miss Hawkins in on some of the details, we helped Roland clean up the Grand Bull, and turned in."

"However, during the night, one of the injured Dust Adders got waylaid by something. Miss Hawkins found him hiding in an abandoned house. She said he attacked her and tried to suck her blood, and that he burst into flames when exposed to the light of day. She also determined that whatever happened to him must have happened at the Oriental Theater and Dance Hall, so Robert, Miss Hawkins, and I went to investigate."

"We ran into some lovely ladies who I think have some sort of hypnotic powers, and Robert found the missing circuit judge. The judge apparently has been turned into a monster as well, and he attacked. Miss Hawkins again proved herself by dispatching the monster with a hastily-sharpened chair leg to the heart."

"We discovered that the last person the Judge had been seen with was a lady named Lucy, who actually lives here in town. We found Lucy very ill, and high on opium, but not turned yet. At least, we don't think so, but with the thick clouds and the rain obscuring the sun we just couldn't tell for sure. Miss Hawkins was supposed to head off to the telegraph office to get some information from her superiors about just what to do in case of vampires."

"Miss Katy Devon joined us, apparently deciding to take up my offer of being a Deputy to help us solve some of the many problems we face. She and Robert stayed behind when I left to check on Miss Lucy's residence, as we were in need of a place to keep her while we determined whether she's a danger to anyone. As I was gathering my overcoat from the Grand Bull, I was informed of the disturbance and...well, that's where we are now, really."

"I guess I should fill in that little bit.  By the way, you win."  Wildcat tells Charging Bear, taking her hat off to him.  "I can't top a story like that."

"Anyways some'un done complained to me the Adders were raising hell right outside here.  When I got here they said they weren't doin' nothin' and at that point I was actually inclined to believe 'em, but then I got shot by two losers, who got away.

"They weren't no Dust Adders I don't reckon, on account of that one Adder who tried to put his hands on me got in a scuffle with him.  Th' other one done plugged me from th' roof of th' barber's.  Th' Deputy here did a right good job of tryin' to catch 'im, but he gave us both the slip.  Didn't get a good look at neither of 'em.

"Anyway I done got a little confused between gettin' shot six times who did what, but one of them Adders said somethin' about I done kilt someone by shootin' him in the back, same man that kid was talking about, one of the men in the parlor up front actually I think.  Ah think it was th' one Katy shot.  I was about to have a fight against a half dozen of 'em... that would just be a good warm up any other day but by that point I was bleeding all over the damn place and couldn't move my arm.  I was hurt and they knew it was their best opportunity to sic me.

"I called 'em out on it too, an' much to my one called Jesse manned up.  I recognized him, good fer nothin' cattle rustler I caught back in Nacogdoches county.  He hid in an outhouse, which I turned over on its face to catch him.  Funniest arrest I ever made, hauled him in, all covered in manure, but they let him walk because they said I was out of my jurisdiction.  Got in a whole heap of trouble over that.

"Anyway I plugged him pretty good, but I didn't figure on killin 'im with one bullet.  Wanted to arrest him but God had other ideas.

"I made the mistake of believing them again when that one that grabbed me told me to my face they weren't gonna try to kill me again today, then the damn liar goes and pulls that crap.  Now don't make excuses fer him, feigning non aggression and then doin' that is lyin'.  I got a pretty good idea what kind of hell on earth you two arriving like that saved me from.  There ain't too many other ways for a scenario involving a hated woman who's been pinned down and a bunch of scum like that to turn out, if'n ya get my drift.

"That's the last time I ever give a Dust Adder an inch of civility.  It weren't personal before, but they made it personal today."

"I'm not sure about that." Evans mutters. "From where I was standing it looked more like he was egging the other one on, daring him to do something. Still, whatever his intentions were, it's no way to treat a lady, and I'm glad we were able to intervene before things escalated."

He turns to Charging Bear. "Interesting move there, by the way. I heartily applaud your daring-do."

He pulls a pad of paper and a fountain pen. "So. Let's make a list of things we need to get done."

"We need to investigate this paraphernalia that Ward's playing around with. I have the feeling it might be the key to everything. If I could get a look at it, I might be able to give you a better idea of what everything involved is for, but we'd need a pretense to get on the grounds and I'm sure Ward could see through Miss Hawkins' ruse, so that's something we shouldn't rely on."

"We also need to determine if we've solved our vampire problem. Robert was of the opinion that the Judge was turned before he came to town, and that he was the source of our problems. I'm not quite so sure about that, but we need more information in any case. We need to know just how vampirism spreads, and any other weaknesses they have aside from sunlight and a stake through the heart. We're also going to need to watch Miss Lucy to see if she turns."

"We should probably keep an eye on that Vanderholt Troupe. I can't put my finger on it, but there's just something I don't trust about them."

"We also need to track down the assassins. We can't let that sort of thing go on in town...it strikes at the very heart of the rule of law. We need to bring them to justice. Not only for peace of mind...we need to find out who sent them after Wildcat, and if they're going after anyone else."

He sighs, and looks at Wildcat. "With all this going on, we can't afford to have enemies at our backs. I'm sorry, but we can't pursue the Dust Adders right now. Our first priority is to protect the citizens of town and, like it or not, that includes them. We're going to need to patch up relationships with them if we're going to get anything else done. For now, the Dust Adders are off limits. In fact, and I hate suggesting this, they may make good allies if we're able to turn them on some of our other problems. I'm sure they'd be willing to help us track down those assassins."

He turns to Charging Bear. "And with all this going on, I want to know more about the Yankee dead man you fought. you said it disappeared...do you think it's gone for good, or could it come back? That might be key to getting on to Ward's property if that's a continuing problem for him."

He looks back at his list. "Oh, and in all this I need to find time to repair my gyromounted pistol. I'd feel much more comfortable if I were better armed, but I'll need at least three hours with the gunsmith to make all the necessary modifications."

He looks up. "Have I missed anything?"

In reply to Carl (msg #195):

"I will make such a determination for myself." Roland says, then leaves the room via the kitchen door. He doesn't return. Instead, a portly gentleman in a greasy apron steps out of the kitchen and up to the bar.

"Um...I done guess I'm takin' over for naow, on account o' a death in de fambly." He says in a thick cajun accent. "Ayum...yeah. I'm Ed. Can I take ya ordah?"

The silent man watches Roland go. Well, he'd warned him. He would try to be there when the barkeep returned, in case it was with a challenge or questions: God knew it was possible to love someone who did you evil, just as much as hating folk you'd never met.

Carl tilts his head slightly and listens with clear interest to what's on offer. He'll nod and tap the bar if he hears something that sounds appetising - which is just about anything by now - and gesture that the others be served, too, taking the opportunity to look about and see if anyone wants anything peculiar as he gets the first round in, paying upfront.


[Private to GM: *description poke* is Charlie's family present, is Frank revived, has Jenny left, are there any other patrons and where's Mike sitting?]
This message was last edited by the player at 07:17, Thu 04 Nov 2010.

In reply to Carl (msg #205):

Carl looks around the room as Ed enumerates on the menu, which seems to boil down to steak and grits or gumbo tonight.

Mike and Percy are in the corner near the stairs with Frank, who is rubbing his head as he comes to. It doesn't look like Miss Landers and her son are here tonight...they probably wanted to mourn at home.

Aside from the Dust Adders, it looks like the poker players are here, looking around at the assembled Adders somewhat nervously. Voodoo Ivory, the piano player, is back at work, but there doesn't seem to be a serving girl around. There are a couple other locals around, not many, and there's a thin girl at the bar whom Carl doesn't recognize with a couple of shot glasses next to her, currently polishing off a third.

In reply to Gush Shaw (msg #172)

In all honesty, she watched Gus and was a bit surprize. She figured he'd be a bit of egotist, but he was an upright and boldly honest man and that made her heart hurt a little. She didn't see that quality often and it was commendable. He wasn't worried about seeming unmasculine with telling her that even he had suffered from the attack. Least she knew something about him, he was a quick healer, well. So was Tex. Interesting. Tex had immortality, quick healing, great strength, and height, an imposing sight. She wondered what else the fellow had, he was damn strong and they were both berserkers, that strange rattling sound within their chests. She moved off from the wall, the sheathed sword skids through the dirt and stone floor for a moment as she tracked behind him, her hand reached out and touched his back when he took a deep breath.

" Maybe... It should o attack'd'em. It didn't.. Too bad you killed Danny, prolly woulda found out sumptin'. They really were just rustlers? Heh, ya should o listened how he told it." She paused for a moment. " Gettin hard to figure out what to believe. Been lots o mistellin' over this shit.. Then Ward's name comes up everytime sumptin weird is around, but it's just circumstances. It's not him. But.. Someone broke a spirit seal. That's what he said.." She started to circle him a little,  until she came close and her palm set on his chest. " And now 'it' dreams.. Something about five years ago... That's when the mine caved in. That might be when the seal broke.. Maybe it was the Witchita Witches." The witches, the Shaw Brothers.. Her head canted to look directly at Gus, her green eyes unwavering for a moment before rapidly blinking as if coming out of her thoughts.

" Right, da matter at hand.. Will I go, despite your warning and most likely die tonight? Or will I stay here with you til we head out?" She started, Her hand went into Gus' pocket and pilfered a coin in the absent grope before she moved a step away from him and examined the coin. Then flipped it and the coing flew, glinting and landing with a silvery sound.

Tink, tink, ting-ing-ing..

It bounced on the hard rock surface and spun in a tight circle before... It stood on it's side..

Gangatsu rolled a 3. >.>

" The fu'k.." She pushed it over and the coin shines up as tails. " Ah.. I live. That doesn't get tiresome." She murmured in a way that almost seemed sarcastic. " Hmm.. Well, least the shit you said makes some damn sense.. But even if I figure out where the seal is, it won't stop anything. There has to be a way to fix it." She looked ot Gus, only it was brief, knowing that he wouldn't understand what she was saying.

" So ya get meh meanin', think o the dead men walking about just from a crack in a Wall. What would happen if the Wall becomes rubble? Get me? That's what's happening. Just gotta find out who was holdin the hammer that cracked the wall. But that's my own personal vengence... What would I have to do to keep the monster beyond the wall to sleep and stop the dreaming. "
This message was last edited by the player at 12:40, Thu 04 Nov 2010.

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #203):
The native son looks at Wildkitten as she off her hat to him, he smiles slightly and says, "Wasn't a story, Ms Hawkins, just the events that happened."

Turning to Evans as the man inquires about the dead/not dead Union soldier, "Something in my gut says it'll be back. The way it was just singing and didn't relent even when mortally wounded ... there's more to whatever that was than I know. Something or someone is stirring up trouble... too much is going on around this little town for it all to be just coincidences." Charging Bear looks over himself, "I'd like to get cleaned up and perhaps a change of clothing. Does you're general store in town carry much in the way of clothing and weapon cleaning supplies?" It had been years since he'd held or even used a pistol, he wondered if he'd be able to break down this one and put it back together. Then his mind wrapped itself around vampire.

"Shouldn't someone check on Lucy..." he leaves the question open, knowing the answer already. "I'd also like to go find Gangatsu, I don't trust Gus as far as I could throw him."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:45, Thu 04 Nov 2010.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #208):

Evans considers. "Well, Mr. Smith went with her to Ward's ranch...I'm surprised you didn't see him there, to be honest, which has me a little worried. Hopefully, he was simply hanging back out of sight to assess the situation, and can help Miss Gangatsu out. As for stirring up trouble, well, I could have told you that. I know Ward's involved, but it's possible he's not the only hand moving pieces about the chessboard. There's the Enlightened Society of the Weeping Moon, which I think bears watching. Ward's a member, but several other prominent townsfolk are as well, and there are some strange aetheric patterns around their lodge which I haven't had the manpower to investigate before now."

"And yes, I do think someone should check on Lucy, but I still needed to check out her residence to see if it would be suitable to hold her until we can make sure of what she is, one way or another, and Wildcat still has a telegram to send. Still, Robert and Miss Devon are watching over her right now. If you wish to check on them, they are at the Oriental theater, a block past the Grand Bull."

"As for General Stores, there is Sam's Dry Goods, next to the Livery. However, Sam is notorious for overcharging for his wares to those he thinks he can bilk, and has been known to sell items of questionable quality, so be cautious in your dealings with him. Don't threaten him with legal action...I've tried that. At the end of the day, it's his store and he can charge what he wants. So just make sure you haggle."

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #209):

"Guess I'll see about Robert and Miss Devon, hopefully all is well there. Then head over to see about some clean cloths..." Charing Bear pauses a moment to consider. "Might be best if I get cleaned up. Did you have any deputy badges Evans? Might be helpful if I can show myself as a legitimate law man around here."

"Not currently. I'm going to have to get some commissioned." Evans replies. "Any badges I might have had were in my office, which is now a pile of kindling."

"Alright, I'll head down to Sam's then over to the Oriental theater." he nods to Wildkitten saying, "Good luck with that telegram. If a ranger named Rose McAnalley gets back to you, tell her I say hello and Tá sé fuar fliuch. She'll understand what it means." With that the Charging Bear will wander out into the rain and towards the general store.

[Private to GM: Figured I'd play alittle of CB's background as he does know a ranger (in theory). The two would've had a code or two, a few phrases or words in Irish Gaelic that they would pass across a telegraph if in need. "Tá sé fuar fliuch" is "It's wet and cold" which would more or less be an indication of something strange happening. Play it as you like of course. ]

"The best stories are the truth, Deputy Bear.  You couldn't make something like that up.  It's why I don't read much.  Life is more fantastic than anythin' anyone done ever imagined." Wildcat tells him by way of parting.  "And I'll be sure to do that."

OOC:  Has WC heard any stories of Rose McAnalley?  It'd be something Kat would be interested in if she'd ever had the chance.

"Well Marshal I understand better how you've survived up to now, if'n Mr. Mickle-fwate and Charging Bear are the kind of help you have.  I even agree with you that the weirdness is the bigger fish to fry.  Much as I hate the Adders at least I understand their nature.

"I'll be honest with you Evans, I figgered you were some lilly livered dude who was playin' sheriff.  But turns out you got some sand in your sack after all.  So if you want to make nice with the Dust Adders, I won't stop ya.

"I won't help none either though.  Th' Good Book says He that saith unto the wicked, Thou are righteous; him shall the people curse, nations shall abhor him.  But to them that rebuke him shall be delight, and a good blessing shall come upon them.

"Now I don't know if'n you believe in God an' I ain't askin', ah personally do but it don't really even matter.  Ah think I said and did some things I shouldn't have today, but I don't regret making it clear to the Dust Adders they ain't gonna walk over me.

"A law man has to draw a hard line even when it's hard to tell where that line goes, an' he has to do it with full belief in his convictions or he's already lost.  I won't have no truck with those Dust Adders.  None.  If'n I see one actin' up, I'll arrest 'im.  Ah will not stray from my path to avoid them neither.

"It wouldn't matter if'n I made nice to 'em neither.  They promised to kill me, and I believe they intend to try, just a matter of when.  They won't succeed, but they'll try.  Put us in the same room long enough, we'll fight."

Wildcat shrugs.

"But that's all right.  Mebbe you can use that as a bargaining chip.  Make me out to be the bad guy."

Carl raises an eyebrow at the hard-drinking stranger lady, but isn't about to pry. The lack of serving girl necessitates that he and the others ferry drinks (illegally) to tables themselves; Carl brings Mike, Frank and Percy's over a little precariously with the remains of his own, having ordered steak and made sure the cook stuck around to get everyone else's preferences. He settles in a chair.

Signalling to the others that he'll 'talk' after food, he lets them speculate at will and removes his hat and duster. He gives Mike a twist of a smile at how the rain and being smashed open twice has caused the bloodstain around the minor wound to resemble an heroic injury, shifting cloth to get at it.

Carl finds a clean spot on his handkerchief and washes the bullet wound out with alcohol, occasionally screwing an eye up at the sting.
"..."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:41, Thu 04 Nov 2010.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #213):

[[OOC: Yup, you've heard of "Irish Rose" McAnalley. There aren't that many women in the Rangers just yet--about one woman for every ten men. So the women are rather noteworthy]]

"You might be surprise to know that, for most of my tenure as Marshal, I didn't have any deputies at all. I only just hired on Robert and Charging Bear."

"Oh, and I say to you, Do not make use of force against an evil man; but to him who gives you a blow on the right side of your face let the left be turned. When in Rome, you do as the Romans do. The Dust Adders aren't some group of Dime Novel bandits who ride forth to wantonly rape and pillage. They're desperate men with families to support. Some of them are bad apples, true, but the rest are miners with out a mine, soldiers without a war, and rail workers without a railroad. Their anger come from the fact that they've been given the shortest stick in Texas and they're trying to do the best they can with it."

"So if you want to take a hard line with them, I suppose I can't stop you, but you need to stop thinking of them as 'the enemy.' Or you're going to wind up with more children waving guns in your face, and maybe a few widows as well."

He sighs. "Look, All I ask is that you don't go out of your way to provoke them. Can you at least promise me that?"

---

Charging Bear:
The General Store sits at the edge of the block, advertised with a large sign reading "Sam Johnson's General Store" to the world.

Inside, the walls and shelves are crammed with goods of all conceivable varieties: hardware, farm equipment, a small selection of clothes, ranching equipment, crates labeled "Danger! Do not bounce!", jars of penny candy, loaves of bread, jugs of milk, bottles of beer, racks of newspapers and magazines (many sadly out of date), and a host of other staples of day-to-day life.

A large, balding man with spectacles and a walrus mustache waves at the native son as the bell over the door rings. "Hullo! Welcome to Sam Johnson's General Goods! I'm Sam Johnson...what can I help you with today?"

In reply to The Stray (msg #215):

"That's an often misinterpreted scripture, Marshal.  Back then, that was daring some 'un to keep it up, an they'd have a fight on their hands.  If they struck ya on both cheeks, ya had it out right there.

"An' there may be one Adder that ain't a complete waste of time, but the company ya keep says a lot about ya.  You think the Hawkins didn't go through some lean times?  We sure did, but we never robbed nobody or stole nothin' an we weren't in no gang.  There's always another way."

Wildcat thought of the little boy.  I hope he can realize that some day.  She felt genuinely bad for him, and him alone.

"But I hear you plainly, and no I won't go out of my way to rile 'em up.  I just hope you'll understand I don't break bread with their kind.  We don't go to the same box socials.  If you send me to talk to 'em it's jus' gon' be another slobber knocker.

"An' give me a little credit.  I was gonna leave them to their own devices.  One of them called me out."

"I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with that for now. And if you get drawn into a confrontation, I suppose I can't fault you for seeing it through." he sighs. "Well, I suppose we'd better get back to our duties. Send your telegrams, and I'll meet you back at the Oriental Theater."

He stands, adjusts his overcoat, and heads back out into the rain, leaving Wildcat all alone in an undertaker's office with three corpses laying silently in their coffins.

Not for long.  She's off to send a telegraph presently.  Let's see how many times she can get shot before she gets there!

In reply to Carl (msg #214):

"Ow." Frank mutters as he nurses the lump on his head. "I'm sorry, Carl. I didn't even see him. I passed a pile of rags, heard a noise, and the last thing I saw was the barrel of the gun before it all went dark."

"That's why you should always watch you flanks. Constant vigilance, Frank!"

"Easy for you to say, Mike. I ain't no fighter."

Percy stares at his drink.

"Hey, kid. What's eatin' you?"

"It isn't true." he mutters.

"What isn't?"

"What Dave said about the Ranger shooting Charlie. It wasn't her. It was another girl. The old guy that Dave shot in the face was protecting her. She picked up the old man's gun and squeezed off a shot as we were leaving." He takes a swallow. "Lord, she must have been terrified."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #218):

Luckily for her, she makes it to the Western Union office without further gunplay.

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

"Good day, ma'am!" he says as she enters. "How may I be of service?"

Gus shrugs. "Yeah, they really were rustlers. Probably thought they was 'fightin' the good fight fer the North' or some shit. Why they thought they could get away with that sort of guerrilla shit all the way here in South Texas I don't know."

"As fer the Witches, well, they're bad news alright but I really can't see them havin' anythin' to do with the cave-in. Them bitches usually pester railroads, and we're fifty miles from the nearest line."

He watches her flip the coin, bemused. "Anyone ever tell you yer a bit touched in the head, Choppy Sue?"

He listens to her explanation for a while, then spits some chaw into the fire before he replies.

"Look. I don't mind tellin' ya I spoke to it once--you already guessed that. Helped me save my brother's life, it did. I owe it. The Snake ain't some demon...it's a healer. It just got some funny notions on what healin' is. Maybe it tried healin' the Yanks when they got sick, and somethin' went wrong. Maybe...maybe ifn' it were more awake, it could heal better, you follow me?"

OOC:  I'm improvising a bit here.  I would assume the Rangers would use a special code to make sure the signal was routed correctly from one operator to another, and the message would be sent in a modified Morse code only Rangers know or else using code words.  The rules don't really support that but that's just how I like to imagine it.

"I need to send a government telegraph, headed to Austin."

"Certainly." The man says, handing over the forms for her to fill out. "It'll be 5 cents a word. Punctuation is extra."

[[OOC: According to Lone Stars: The Texas Rangers, the Rangers do, in fact, use a code. The code key is contained within the current year's edition of Fugitives from the Justice of the Confederacy, aka The Ranger's Bible. Since wildcat hasn't been issued a Bible of her own, she's going to need to fake it. Have her roll a Smarts check (-2) to come up with a working code that someone who knows her could break, and hope like hell that's who gets her message...and that it's not scrambled by Gremlins.]]

I lost most of my classic books in a move some years ago.  Major bummer as they're good for all that flavor stuff I tend to forget.  Glad to know I'm not totally off my rocker though.

23:24, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 2 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2. red chip on the smarts roll.
23:23, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 3,2 using 1d6-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,4. Smarts roll for telegraph.

That will give a 5.  Not a dazzling code but a success so I'll take it.  Hate to spend a chip but this is a very important roll.  Shall I post the telegraph in its "true" form or do I the player have to figure out how to encode it too?

[[OOC: More chips for me! :D Nah, just give me the True Form. You have enough other problems to worry about than making a cipher for me.]]

Telegraphs, the original text speak!  Assuming the stops are not words, this should be a $5.00 telegraph exactly.  Expensive but this is important.  Wildcat cannot possibly mention absolutely everything in the telegraph even if she had $20 to spend on it so she picks three priority issues and briefly mentions other problems.  Name dropping a couple of people on the inside of the Ranger Corps might help the message get picked up by somebody who can try to do something.

I'll probably think of 10 ways it could be better and shorter later but oh well.

[Private to The Stray:
ATTENTION ARMSTRONG ARRIVED IN BLACKTHORN YESTERDAY *STOP*
CLASS THREE SUPERNATURAL DISTURBANCE IN PROGRESS CONTAINMENT DIFFICULT *STOP*
LOCAL LAWDOGS AWARE OF OUTBREAK TRYING TO CONTAIN *STOP*
CIRCUIT JUDGE CONTRACTED VAMPIRISM PERSONALLY KILLED SAME AND TWO OTHER VAMPIRES *STOP*
REQUEST EMERGENCY CLEARANCE FOR INTEL TO COMBAT VAMPIRES TREAT VAMPIRE DISEASE *STOP*
RESIDENT WARD KNOWN TO HAVE SUMMONED AZTEC SPIRIT  *STOP*
QUETZALCOATL XIUHCOATL MIXCOATL TEZCATLCOAL POSSIBLE BUT UNKNOWN *STOP*
REPORTS OF TALKING UNDEAD YANKEE SOLDIERS OTHER DISTURBANCES *STOP*
TOWN OVERRUN WITH RUSTLERS ASSASSINS HYPNOTIZING ACTRESSES  *STOP*
LOCAL JAIL MARSHALL OFFICE BLOWN UP DEPUTIES NOT EQUIPPED *STOP*
LOW ON TEQUILA GUNS CIGARS MONEY HANDCUFFS *STOP*
CHARGING BEAR SENDS LOVE TO IRISH ROSE *STOP*
YOURS ALWAYS WILDCAT *STOP* ]

Carl gives Frank a bit of a sidelong look, then shrugs slightly. "..."

At first he snorts at Percy's comment - he's been saying all along it wasn't the Ranger - but then he sits up and listens, frowning. He catches Percy's eye, shakes his head a little, motions down, then looks at him with a question. "?"

Settling back, he makes a rolling motion, gestures up the street, face serious. There's a pause and a few other gestures before he looks around the table, still grave. "..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:33, Fri 05 Nov 2010.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #226):

Wildcat gets some funny looks from the operator at the content of her message, but he doesn't comment. He clicks out a message, then waits for the confirmation.

When it comes, though, he frowns. "That's not right..."

He looks up at Wildcat. "Er, I'm getting word that your message got through, but they can't make heads or tails of it. Not that it made much sense to me in the first place, but I ain't paid to edit people's correspondence. But they're telling me the message got jumbled up like a tossed salad."

He shakes his head. "I'm awful sorry about the inconvenience, ma'am. I can try sending this again, no charge, but I'm going to have to wait a couple hours while they figure out where the problem is." he lowers his voice conspiratorially. "Personally, I blame gremlins. Now, don't laugh. Work this job long enough, and you'll start believin' in gremlins yourself."

[[OOC: The funny thing is, I actually did roll Gremlins on the Telegraph Table...]]

"Sir I am in no position to laugh at a belief in gremlins.  It'll have ta be all right, do what you can.  I'll check back."

Wildcat sighs but she's not surprised.  She wasn't expecting an immediate answer to this missive anyway, but it would be nice if it would have gone through.

She had thought to con Underhill into revealing who did his coffin making to get some stakes with a better, stronger point made under the guise of ordering a part for an aether mangle machine Evans was making, but she's just got pocket change after paying for the telegraph, and Underhill's off amusing himself anyway.  Still she kept a little gold and silver in her war bag, and while the gold had paid for the stitching the silver might cover this other project.  Some people like Underhill liked payment in metal better than paper.

She's going to have to set snares outside of town and catch animals for their pelts and meat to survive before too long.  And there's always boiled prickly pear and roasted scorpions.

For now, it was best to just rendezvous with Evans at the Theater.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:49, Fri 05 Nov 2010.

The General Store

Charging Bear waves to the store owner and moves towards where said man is standing. Extending a hand, he says "Howdy Mr Johnson. I'm looking for a set of clothing, a hat, and some canned peaches. Rumor has it that you are the man to see for such things. I apologize for lookin' such a sight, it has been a couple of days."

OOC: 17 posts while I was a sleep... geez!
This message was last edited by the player at 15:26, Fri 05 Nov 2010.

[[OOC: I guess today makes up for it...I had a minor crisis to iron out, and then my computer ate my other, lovingly done post, forcing me to start again from scratch.  Such is life.]]

---

This chapter is over. Please resume posting on the Chapter 8.1 thread.

Gangatsu, you're on the Chapter 8.2 thread.