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.