Mid Afternoon, April 10th, 1879. Blackthorn, Texas

---

Elijah Fuller:

Some Mood Music

The stage rolls through the quiet town. The place appears to be mostly deserted--not a soul seems to be out in the godawful weather. Several houses and businesses along the main street have been boarded up, and only a few windows have a flicker of candlelight to suggest anyone dwelling within. Though it's only just past three in the afternoon, the sky is as dark as twilight, as if the sun had just given up on the place and gone elsewhere.

The driver mutters something the occupants of the coach can't make out as they pull up alongside a building with a sign proclaiming it the "Grand Bull Saloon," a texa longhorn skull hung between the words "grand" and "bull" to emphasize the point. One of the windows is boarded up, but there's a cheery light from the unbroken one, and the slow, sweet melody of a piano sings out from within.

"Well...here we are. Grand Bull Saloon and Inn. Feel free to step inside and have a meal." The driver says, opening the coach's door.

---

Carl:

Some Mood Music

Frank says nothing at Carl's admonishment, just sinks deeper into his whiskey.

Percy frowns. "I-I guess...I mean, sure, I think I might be able to pick her out of a crowd if I saw her again. But You know, she'd just seen her escort get his face scrambled by a load of rock salt. I wouldn't fault her any for taking shots at us. maybe she just got...lucky." He falls quiet.

At the request, Mike shakes his head. "I'll do it, Carl. Don't place that kind of thing on the boy's shoulders."

"No, it's alright." Percy says. "I'll go see the Landers. I owe it to Tim, at the very least."

"Really oughta be Dave..." Frank mutters, then looks out the window. "Hey...looks like the 3:10 from Victoria is here."

---

Charging Bear:

The man, obviously not quite used to shaking hands with an Indian, nevertheless returns the friendly gesture.

"Of course, sir, of course! I do not carry any, er, tribal accouterments, but my selection of goods and clothes is otherwise the best you'll find in the county! Feel free to browse around, and if you have any questions for me, feel free with those as well!"

He points out the racks of clothing along the wall. He also has some hats on a rack. The selection leaves something to be desired--if this is the "best in the county," then the county isn't very prosperous--but there should be something serviceable here that isn't just a gussied up cheap knock-off.

The stacks of canned goods is more robust, with tins of fruits, beans, pickled vegetables, and even tins of something called "SPAM," which claims to be a meat product of some kind.

---

Robert Micklethwait, Katy Devon, Wildcat Hawkins:

Wildcat reaches the Oriental just as Robert and Katy reach the rear door. The trio stop and look at each other.

Evans does not seem to have made it here yet.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:24, Sat 06 Nov 2010.

Carl frowns and holds up one finger, watching Percy seriously. "..." Then he gives a grim half-smile. "..."

He listens to Mike, gives a slight headshake, indicating Percy. He nods once at Frank's comment, but then makes a scrambling, mixing gesture to explain his dubious look.

Carl turns his chair a little, the better to see anyone heading in, mildly curious.

Wildcat may be stitched up now, but she still looks like a blood encrusted horror show.  Her blouse is a dried dull red with a tear at the shoulder, exposing just a little skin, but of course that's covered up by a bandage.  There's a little spatter on her jeans.  The hat and the duster aren't bloody but they are covered in road dust, and there's a prominent hole in the hat's brim, the hallmark of a barely missed head shot.

As she walks down the street she is for some strange reason holding her Bowie knife in a saber grip in her left hand, feinting, slashing and back cutting at imaginary foes in the air.  They don't know she's just trying to get all the feeling and circulation back in it of course, but the movements are visible.

When she sees other people are looking at her though, she stops that, realizing how silly it probably looks, and lowers the knife.

"Mr. Mickle-fwate, Miss Katy, am I supposed to take over or are you two takin' French leave?"

Katy was a bit wide eyed after leaving the Orential Theater, and as soon Robert left with her, she held to his arm and they entered the boggy weather and heading up the street. She wasnted to go to the Grand Bull Sallon and get some hot tae and perhaps even take a moment off her feet for a spell. Yet then comes the vision of wildkat, looking much like a frightful living dead girl with aoles in her clothes from hat to jeans, and blood everywhere.

" It's spreading! " She said quietly and hugged Robert's Arm tightly, her feet becoming a bit of lead and wanting to go in a different way. The Vampire Fever must have gotten to them! The slight girl shuffled a little step behind Robert, tensed to run, though Robert would hear a soft click behind him. Katy's big brown eyes watched the knife zinging through the air, nearly convinced Wildkat had gone mad with that diabolic plague! Or least that's what she thought til it stopped and spoke in a friendly manner..

" Miss Hawkins.. What happen to you?.. Are you.. Still you? I mean.. Your not thinkin of harmin no poor souls, right, Miss Hawkins?..."

Wildcat is, naturally, oblivious to what Katy is actually talking about and looks down at the knife, a little embarrassed.

"Heh, playing with it like a tinhorn getting his first sharp... no ma'am, nothing of the sort."

A sobering thought comes to Wildcat quickly however, as she snaps out of her self absorbed state upon putting the blade back in its sheath.

"Wait, if'n you two are leavin', that sick woman, is she...?"

Her sentence just trails off.

Letting the other passengers disembark first, Eli steps carefully down from the coach.  He stumbles a bit, having put too much weight on his bad leg.  With an embarrassed wince, he plants his cane and takes the weight off again.  He'll turn around to make sure his bags make it down /carefully/ from the stage.  A bit of attention wil be spared to see where Cantrell and the uptight Easterner head...

[ooc: did try to wait for Robert to post. Oh well.]

There was a little relief and she slightly let go of  Robert's arm, but she still seemed a little high strung despite the disarming smile that blossomed. Hawkins then inquired about the sick girl and her flourish smile wilts a bit with a grave personal sorrow at killing another.. But this was a monster, they said.. It just looked like a person. Right?

" The pointy end went in.." She murmured and she seemed to shake like a leaf. "  That was so scary. Bullets didn't work at all, didn't even slow her down. What are we going to do if more get out? We're going to tell people, right?.." She waved a little in her step and would have tipped over had she not held onto the Deputy Micklethwait.

" Oh boy.. " She murmured glumly from a little dizzy spell that went away as soon as it came. " Mm.. Where has the Marshal gone?"

In reply to Elijah Fuller (msg #6):

Both the bounty hunter and the dandy make for the Saloon after collecting their bags. Apparently, food and shelter are the top priority in the miserable weather.

In reply to Carl (msg #2):

"As long as you don't plan on hurting her. I won't be a party to that, Carl. Not for you or Dave or anyone." Percy replies with conviction. "And don't you go badmouthing the dead like that. We were only trying to scare him into leaving town. That's why Dave was loading rock salt instead of buckshot. No one was supposed to get killed."

The doors of the saloon swing open as a flash of lighting crackles outside.

Into the Grand Bull strides a great mountain of a black man in a black duster over an old Confederate army jacket, his stetson hat dripping water onto the floor. He surveys the room, taking in every face. He bulls through the crowded room, heading for a notice board at one end where many local handbills are posted (and which is currently strangely empty). He reaches into his back, and withdraws a hammer, some nails, and three hand bills, which he proceeds to nail to the board.

While he's doing this, a second, less conspicuous gentlemen in a gray suit, with dark, slicked back hair and a trim mustache, enters the Grand Bull. He pauses, sniffs the air, and curls his lip a bit before taking a seat at the only empty table in the room.

The large man, apparently satisfied, returns the hammer to his bag and heads toward the bar, leaving three posters with hand-drawn sketches behind. Each of them bear the legend:

In reply to Katy Devon (msg #7):

Wildcat at first isn't sure what Katy is referring to, but it soon becomes clear.

Damned Dust Adders! Lacking anything to throw, strike, or otherwise demolish Wildcat kicks the dust and catches her punch in her own hand, which hurts.  But she doesn't care, if those pukes hadn't delayed her...

No.  That was the anger talking.  The woman was surely doomed from the onset.  It had been a fool's errand.  Katrina had made a bad judgment call.

"I'm sorry Miss Katy, that... it should have been me who had to do that.  But no, we're going to tell nobody.  Do you understand?  The panic would be far worse than just a few cases here and there.

"Anyway, Marshal Evans said I was supposed to meet him here after I got through sending the telegraph.  He didn't say he was going anywhere else in the mean time either."

Kat turns around and looks toward the general direction of Underhill's parlor.

"This town ain't that big, folks."

Carl gives Percy an utterly bemused look, more surprised at the direction the lack of faith's come from than offended. Then he jerks his head at the boarded up window, nods back towards the kitchen and gives him a hard look. "..."

The silent man settles back, running a hand over his scalp, and points in a direction. An eyebrow gets slightly raised at the very large man, meeting his gaze coldly as he looks about. Carl leans to see if the wanted posters concern any of the gang.

Percy mumbles something like "...sorry. I realize how stupid that sounds." He takes a sip of his drink. "Though he only threw the dynamite at the Marshal's place...it was Luke who tossed the rest in here."

he does look a bit relieved that Carl seemed more interested in humiliation than violence, though.

The faces on the posters are of a woman, an Indian, and some tinhorn. However, they look familiar...and Carl realizes that he's seen both the Tinhorn and the Indian before. Just this very day, in fact. At Ward's place. With the posse.

Percy also notices, and sucks in his breath. "Carl...that woman on the poster. It's her!"

Several of the other Dust Adders are looking at the posters, too. Some are looking at Carl in puzzlement...the rest are looking at Dave.

Carl gives Percy a raised eyebrow, then nods and rises. He takes the picture of Charging Bear down almost at random and squints at it a bit before stepping over and putting it in front of Percy to read the details to him, feeling a bit selfconscious.

It was a harder decision than it might have been. Carl respected the uniform. The redskin seemed a fair man (if batshit insane when it came a scrap, but you couldn't expect a savage to keep his head around violence). The man was Ward's guest, and not the only one at the ranch with convictions. The girl was theirs to deal with, and who knows what Pompasmasher here meant to do with her. A tough decision indeed.

His glance to the Dust Adders - Dave included - is a reassurance that no, it's not one of theirs, and a request for trust and alertness.

Percy is silent at the admonishment...it was, after all, Nate's idea to bomb the Grand Bull, even if he wasn't the one throwing the dynamite sticks.

The boy looks over the handbill. "Oh, geez...it's him, isn't it?" he says to Carl. He swallows, and reads it allowed. "Wanted. Charging Bear. For the crimes of murder, assault, and rape of a woman of the white race. Reward paid for information leading to arrest or death. Direct inquiries to Lt. Jericho Cantrell."

The large black man is watching them out of the corner of his eye, but his view is somewhat blocked by the ring of other Dust Adders who have gathered around by now.

"I knew it." Dave growls. "I fuckin' knew that Redskin was up to no good..."

After making sure his baggage made it down safely and under the protective awning of the porch, Eli shakes off his hat and coat as best he can.  He tries to get himself looking as respectable as he can manage in the circumstances; smoothing, brushing, etc.  Finally, he just gives up and stumps his way into the saloon.  His cane, whether he wants it to or not, the wooden cane makes a distinctive heavy tapping as he makes his way across the saloon towards the bar.

The room and its current inhabitants are given a good once over.  His fellow new arrivals stand out easily enough.  As does the small gang of heavily armed, angry looking cowboys.  A group like that can always be counted on to start trouble.  And where there's trouble, there's a story.  A faint smile comes over him at the idea.  This town might just work out.  Upon reaching said bar, he'll await the keep's attention and once having it will inquire about a room..."And I would be very thankful for a hot meal as well."

The portly man at the bar seems to be rather at his wit's end, in the process of trying to juggle three drinks at once.

It takes him a couple minutes to actually notice Eli, and he bounces his way over to the man.

"Hi der! Welcome to de Gran' Bull!" He says in a Cajun accent so thick Eli could practically smell the bayou (or it may be the man's lack of hygiene doing that...who knew?). "I can't do much 'bout rooms right naow...ask Rolan' when he get back. But food, naow, dat I can hep wit! Tonight we got several prime cut steak from de Circle W on de grill, and I's got a gumbo so spicy it'll cure the hide of a gator, I gaur-on-tee! What can I mark you dawn foar?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:59, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

Carl is looking very grim. He looks up and catches Dave's eye, taps where a badge would be once, then jerks his head back at the black man and shakes his head.

"..."

Then he takes the poster back, holds it up to the room at large - poker players, local whore, other locals, and gives it over to Dave.

In reply to The Stray (msg #1):

The General Store
Looking over the man's wears, Charging Bear selected a simple blue work shirt, rough jeans that didn't look like they'd fall apart as quickly as the others, a pair of quality boots-who's existence in the store had surprised Charging Bear, and old gun belt which looked to have been sitting on the rack a little too long. He also pulls a few odds and ends to clean the pistol Evans had given him, a few rags, a bit of gun oil, and a ramrod. "I'll give you twelve bucks for this lot. I'll make it fifteen if you've got a box of bullets for this pistol. And do you have somewhere I could change?

OOC: What sort of pistol did I get anyways? I'm guessing a single action Colt Army or Dragoon. Assuming we come to a reasonable price for the items, I'll move on.
A few rolls if needed
09:27, Today: Charging Bear rolled -1,-2 using 1d4-4,1d6-4, rerolling max with rolls of 3,2. Persuasion (untrained, outsider).
09:27, Today: Charging Bear rolled -3,1 using 1d4-4,1d6-4, rerolling max with rolls of 1,5. Persuasion (untrained, outsider) WC.
09:32, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,1 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. Common Knowledge (Gun cleaning).
09:32, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,4. Common Knowledge (Gun cleaning) Red.

---

With clean clothing and a place for the random pistol, Charging Bear steps out into the streets of Blackthorn again. The rain still pounding down, he sees the stage coach has come. He moved down the street towards the Oriental theater as he told Evans he would, pulling his confederate jacket close as the rain is making the native son grow cold.

OOC: Does CB hear anything from the Grand Bull...
09:33, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,3 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,3. Notice.
Guess not.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:01, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

At The General Store:

Sam seems pained at adding the ammo on to the tab, but relents. "You drive a hard bargain, sir" he says as he pulls out a box of .44 rounds. He points to a small alcove with a curtain for privacy. The gun cleaning supplies clear out the muck rather nicely, and soon the native son has a nice, shiny, loaded Colt Army pistol to slip in the ugly, scuffed, and notched gun belt.

He travels to the Oriental without pause, passing the Grand Bull just as Carl hands the handbill over to Dave, blissfully unaware of the speech that soon followed. He spots a knot of people over by the back door, including Robert, the Ranger, and some lady he'd never seen before.

[[OOC: Since you failed the persuasion roll: The gun belt and the ammo will turn out to be El Cheapo, but CB won't realize it until later. The gun belt is just ugly, inflicting a -1 penalty to your already low Charisma. The ammo, on the other hand, means that if you roll a 1 on your Shooting die, the gun will be fouled, requiring a repair roll and 1d6 hours of work to fix.

The gun itself is a standard single-action Colt Army, yes. The cleaning is successful, though, and the gun itself won't cause you any problems.]]

---

In The Grand Bull:

Dave looks at the wanted poster for a moment, until a wide, diabolical grin breaks his face in half.

"Hey!" he shouts at the big black man. "You Lt. Cantrell?"

"I am." he replies, turning slightly. He lowers one hand to his gunbelt out of reflex.

"Well good," Dave says, speaking as much to the entire bar as he does the bounty hunter, "'cause it just so happens we seen this here redskin!"

The large man's eyelids rise, and he turns, giving Dave his full attention. "Where?"

"Well now, it seems that our dear Marshal Evans done hired this raping, murdering sonovabitch to act as his deputy." Dave says, eliciting gasps from the assembled crowd. "And you know what? Ever since, well, the bodies in town have been piling up! It's like Marshal Evans done want to scare us all into being sheep he can herd!"

Jericho gives a half grin at the situation. "Oh, really? So I take it that if I were to remove this problem for you, you wouldn't have any objections?"

"Object? Hell, I'd love to help you hunt this fucker down!"

Jericho is grinning ear-to-ear by now. "Well then. Anyone of you fine men who helps me bring this vile man to the justice he so richly deserves will be well rewarded. I'm putting up one hundred dollars, to be split among any of you fine gentlemen who join my posse and help me find this criminal scum. Who among you is with me?"

There's a brief pause as the Dust Adders look between Carl and Dave for marching orders.

[[OOC: Carl, this is going to be a turning point. Do you give the orders around here, or does Dave? Make me a Persuasion Roll. Dave has a total of 7 after spending a Red Chip. Does Carl step up?]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:24, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

Mean while a or so block away
Charging Bear reaches the Oriental Theater, realizing that he has NO idea what the people he's supposed meet look like just a pair of names. Hopefully the tin star ranger will be here. the native son thinks as he enters the theater.

OOC: Sounds good boss man, I've updated my gear and CB's description.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:30, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

Luckily for Charging Bear, he can see a group of people around back. The Ranger, the lawyer, and some lady he's never met before are standing in the rain, talking.

Wildcat immediately corrects herself, taking the fist she just made and touching it to her forehead.

"... but he was going to run that errand...  Mr. Mickle-fwate, Miss Katy, I have to beg yer pardon, I ain't right in th' faculties here lately.  Not that I ever am, but this has been a hell of a day.  Did that, er, did she hurt ya'll?"

Wildcat spies Charging Bear.  Well at least one thing was right with the world, Deputy Bear was here.  Is it right to call him Deputy Bear?  she wondered.  Wildcat had no idea how Injun names worked, if you could break it up like that or if you had to say the whole thing.

"Deputy Bear, that's... a new look for you."  She'd like him better in the traditional garb.

Charging Bear smiled, it was an honest smile if ever there was one to be had, "Stranger things have and probably will occur Ranger Hawkins. I used to ride for the Confederate Calvary, so this isn't too different from those days. Just alittle more difficult to figure out who the bad guys are." He pulled his new side arm in a flash and returns it just as quickly, "Sadly this gun rig leaves something to be desired but what do you expect in the middle of nowhere Texas?" It's obvious, Charging Bear knows at least something about handguns.

He looks at the trio, nodding to Robert who he met the previous day, "Robert, seems like ages. Who's the young lady with you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

[[OOC: CB and Robert have met...it's only been a day in-game since they were parted. But Katy entered town after CB went to Ward's place.]]

Wildcat looks a bit surprised, now that the adrenalin from before has worn off.  Admittedly she didn't know much about red skinned people.  Sure she'd learned an "old Indian trick" or two for surviving without the effects of civilization, but that didn't equate to much cultural knowledge.

But didn't they not like the white man's shooting irons, much less his military uniforms?  Well at least not the ones that were repeaters?  Wildcat could understand why, their self made weaponry was quite efficient and lethal on its own.  She'd always wanted a tomahawk after seeing what one could do to a man's skull.  The Bowie knife was great and all but it just wasn't the same.

In fact her mother had told her more than once they were bloodthirsty devil worshipping scalp counting savages who would take pretty little white girls like her away for their evil pagan rites if given the chance.  But if Wildcat's experiences had taught her anything, it was that the exception to any rule was more commonplace than the rule itself.

An Indian with a sixgun was after all one of the less remarkable things she'd seen today.  She'd have to inquire more about these things, delicately, and some other time.

Carl looks up from under the palm he just struck his forehead with. Dave was certainly good at the talking thing. Too bad he just wasn't that smart. His look at Dave is rather cold.

"..."

Carl points down sharply, looks around, then gestures to the bounty hunter, rubs thumb and fingers together and flicks a hand out towards the ranch. Deep down, though, he knows he's lost them.

He meets Dave's eyes again, a stillness in his figure even as he waves the others away to do as they like, touches the badge-place again and makes a grabbing gesture over one side of his chest. Keeping Dave's gaze, he mimes a grip around the throat, or a collar far too tight. A warning.


[[two chips for you and not a hope in Hell (yes, I know I should've rerolled): 6
5 Intimidate to be listened to at least a little.]]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:35, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

OOC: these comments are kind of intermixed with everyone else's

"We were going to find a doctor, but I think you get to go first."

"The Marshal, he was looking for a place to put Mis Luzy.  Not that it's needed any more ..."

He nods at CB when he arrives.  "A lot has happened, we should talk.  Maybe at the hotel, after Miss Katy and I get patched up?  If, that is, Miss Hawkin's here hasn't exhaused teh local supplies of bandages... that did happen to you anyhow?" he asks as he starts towards the undertaker's
This message was last edited by the player at 20:02, Fri 12 Nov 2010.

Charging Bear points to his side, "Got stabbed by a dead Yankee." then he points to the various scrapes and cuts on his face and hands "Earlier today I got shoved down a gorge by the now deceased Nathaniel Frost. So just another fun day out here in Texas... what are you getting patched up for?"

"Oh nothin' much.  Some sunuvabitch in the middle of a pack of Dust Adders shot me half a dozen times an' managed to hit most of 'em, and I think his were the only ones to actually go inside and stay there because Underhill pulled a slug out here..."  She points to a prominent dried red splotch.  "Here..."  She points to another one before proceeding to the third.  "An' right 'bout here, in the left arm, that one just plain hurt.  He t'were a pretty good shot though, so I think two bullets actually done went in that second hole there but there's this spot on my side here, I think it came clean out.  Then his partner shot me in the back from the roof of the barber's shop.  Not sure which hole that one is exactly, I kinda lost track."

There's no braggadacio in Wildcat's vivid descriptions, just an accurate retelling and the blood stains to prove it.  It's more like comparing notes with Charging Bear.

"An' then the Dust Adders wanted to kill me, but I called 'em out an' one of 'em wanted to fight fer him all.  He shot me here..."  Wildcat points to the tear in her blouse.  "Worst part is, I hadn't planned on staying in Blackthorn long so this ol' work shirt's gonna have to be warshed somehows.  Ah seen fellers come out of th' slaughterhouse lookin' cleaner than this."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

Robert points back at the theater.  "Crazy girl bit me.  There are a couple of theories about why, but ... you know I found that ghost rock when I came into town?  I'm thinking she had Ghost Rock fever.  Would explain a lot, including all these dead but moving blue-bellies."

Wildcat looks like she's going to argue... and then doesn't.

"Yeah... must be that old Ghost Rock fever.  They had a nasty breakout in Lampasas a while back, some ol' deputy buddies of mine had to work the quarantine detail."  Wildcat just grins wide.  Yer a genius, Mr. Mickle-fwate.

Listening to Wildkitten's replay of her day, he realizes how bad this town seems to be, he looks at Robert again and says, "You'd best go get patched up... be sure Underhill cleans that wound well. Bites get infected far easier than a gun shot. I'll head over to the hotel, see you there when you get patched up. Evans is off checking into a lead right now."

"Hold on there Charging Bear, I owe you a fire water.  Besides, the Marshal sent Underhill to get vittles right after he finished sticthin' me.  He might not be back in his parlor yet."

"Sounds like we are all heading for the saloon."

"I've little desire to go deal with the Dust Adders right now, plus I need to check on my horse. I'll take you up on the drink another time." Charging Bear says to the Tin-Star Ranger.

OOC: Avoiding possible crazy combat ... who me?

OOC:  Wildcat has no such holdups, mwahahahaha.  That and technically all I know is they moved down the street, I have no idea they're in the Grand Bull.

"Fair enough.  Come to think of it, the Marshal said for me to meet him here at the theater anyway, an' if you two are goin' off to get stitched, it wouldn't hurt if somebody stayed here to keep watch considering the weirdness of the, uh, fever, going on in here.

"But can one of ya'll come back in about two hours fer a bit?  Telegraph operator had gremlins in the line.  I need to go back when he resends."

"You know, so much has happened, you went to Ward's for a seance, right?  how'd that go?" Robart asks CB

Charging Bear's eyes narrow slightly at Wildkitten's 'uh, fever' statement but says nothing.

Looking back to Robert, he answers the man's question, "It didn't... got interrupted by a cattle rustler and a not quite dead Yankee who thought the war was still going on... he's the one who stabbed me. Then the Adders returned from the craziness they had done here.. well the séance wasn't going to happen. Did manage to find out that Dr Ward or someone out there is dealing with some potentially nasty spirits."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Mon 08 Nov 2010.

Robert nods.  "While you were out, case you hadn't heard, the Dust Adders rode into town, throwing dynamite and shooting.  That's what happened to me." he touches the bandages on his face.

Eli begins to consider the options placed before him, but a rumble from his stomach makes the decision for him.  With a grin, he answers, "One of each to start with and we'll just see where we go from there.  Been so long since I had gumbo that I have forgotten why I shouldn't."  He chuckles a bit at his own joke, then adds, "I'll have a whiskey while I wait."

Keen reporter senses begin to tingle as the wave of tension begins to sweep the room.  Eli turns back around to have a look at the goings on.  A brow is lifted at the ease with which the hunter secures the help of the local roughs.  It lowers again soon enough, creasing his brow a bit in wariness as the power struggle gets played out.  Its the kind of thing that occaisionally causes fists and/or bullets to start flying, so it pays to keep an eye on it...

Katy was quiet. Very quiet. She didn't like how this was going. There was a dangerous frightening threat around and they had to ignore it until they could snuff it out.  They were going to tell Marshal Evans, but not the other deputy that started to come up. She got to look at the tall man with a strong build, the ran was soaking her hair and her dress and she was getting so cold. The rain wasn't this bad when she went chasing after them to the theater. She didn't have a coat or a hat, her lovely hair style ruined and falling strands of hair that stuck to her face and cheeks.  In these clothes, they were nice looking but poorly put togethere and she already had a poped sem on her shoulder.

" I'm going back to the saloon. Mean gang of men or not. I need some tea and towel. " She murmured, leaving the circle of people with some conflict playing in her mind. She headed down the street, trudging in her nice heeled boots and it felt like trying to walk across mush. She Finally got sick of that and took offthose girly boots  with a grunt and a sigh. Hiking the front of her skirt, she marched a bit faster and even though it was cold, it felt nice to feel the mud and the earth under her feet again. It got the edges of her el cheapo dress dirty, it was dragging behind her in the mud without thhe additonal height of shoes. She sniffled a little and wiped her face with her free hand as she headed down the road.

In reply to Carl (msg #25):

Jericho watches the quiet man's gestures.

"Look here." He says to Carl, though he's loud enough that the whole room can hear. "I don't mean to get in the way of town business, though from the sounds of it, it's already got fucked up enough. But if you're of a mind to hang that redskin, well, I won't stand in your way. I'll be satisfied with a corpse that a judge can identify. And if your corrupt Marshal gets involved, well, I think I can help you out there. The law shouldn't stand in the way of justice...it ought to be there to see justice done. So tonight, we ride for justice, and if the law gets in the way...well, we Texans know what to do, don't we?"

"Hell yeah!" Dave says. "Come on, everyone! We got ourselves a savage to hang!"

At this, most of the Dust Adders (except Mike and Percy) and most of the residents of the bar stand. Those who aren't armed grab bottles, chairs, and other improvised implements. An impromptu cry of "Lynch the savage! Lynch the savage!" rises.

In reply to Elijah Fuller (msg #39):

Ed takes down the order and heads off to the back just before the crowd turns into a bloodthirsty, shouting mob. Things are looking grim for the poor man.

In reply to Katy Devon (msg #40):

Katy Devon reaches the porch and is just about to enter the saloon when she hears the chant of "Lynch the savage! Lynch the savage!"

She's only met one Indian in town...oh no...
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:27, Tue 09 Nov 2010.

If lil Katy Devon wasn't chilled to the bone already, the on goings did it! They couldn't. What is wrong with these people! She backed off the porch, her feet touching the mud against her feet. Dropping her boots, she turned tail and ran back to Robert, Hawkins, and Charging Bear, her suit case slowing her down a little.

She came back, hearing robert say something about dynamite. She nearly tripped over her feet, staggering from the cold when she reached out and grabbed Charging Bears arm and gave him a meek push. " Run. The townsfolk. They're going to hang you. Everyone in the Saloon just went mad and chanting and it loudly. You have to go, now!"

Well that went downhill fast...  Eli shakes his head a bit at the swift formation of the lynch mob.  There's a certain frightening pull to such a mob.  Easy to let yourself go in.  Also terribly hard to stop or reason with.  Now, Eli was not particularly partial to lynch mob justice, but he was particularly partial to his own skin.

So, what's a reporter to do?  Follow along.  Observe.  Document.  Sometimes the news just ain't pretty...

A shot of whiskey is downed.  Teeth are gritted.  Standing back to his troublesome leg, he sets his cane and calls back to Ed, "Might wanna hold that dinner for a spell.  Somethin' else is cookin'..."

Carl turns and looks at the bounty hunter a few moments, gaze unreadable. He doesn't like this man.

Carl knew as well as any petty criminal that attempted rape was frequently a decorative charge, added to ensure a hunter got his man. This, however...this was specific. A woman of the white race. The injun could go from calm and stoic to murderous crazy in moments, he'd seen it. He'd seen Charging Bear leap at a gunman in a secure position. Seen the man try to fight with his guts scarcely held in with one hand. He'd been attacked out of nowhere and pinned...and there were more ways than fighting to get a man's blood up.

Feeling vaguely sick and betrayed, his own blood starting to rise with the clamour of the mob, Carl gestures around for any who're watching, touches the bar and points up towards the thick oak by the cemetery. He catches the bounty hunter's eye and nods down to the livery where Gabby took the injun's horse.

As things start to get out of control around him, Carl goes and takes Augustus' poster down, leans over the bar for a pencil and writes/draws on the back of the 'WANTED' part: a circle W, '11pm', and a sketch map of part of the ranch territory. This he tears off and slides down to the man, retaining the other part. Let Ward decide whether to turn the man in or not: if not, it was still a covienient way to get the hunter away from witnesses. Or help.

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #38):
"Yeah, Evans mentioned the events of last night around here to me earlier. Hell of a time in this town" he says to Robert. He tips his hat politely to Katy as she 'announces' her departure. "Best get dry, this rain'll get ya sick quick."

In reply to Katy Devon (msg #42):
It didn't take much of a push to get Charging Bear going, he'd see what happens in a lynching. He blamed the war for that. "Thanks miss." he said as he moved towards livery to get his horse. Running was fine well and good but a horse usually beat a man on foot. So keeping a steady pace but not breaking into a run, Charing Bear headed to the stables

Robert absentmindedly notes the loyalty of Katy even as he suggests, "Miss, you might want to leave, just in case things get ugly.  Are they heading this way?"

OOC: as I am Loyal, I will try to talk the crowd down if they come this way.

OOC:  Just to try to make things a bit easier on The Stray, I went ahead and made Kat a roll for if she notices it when the mob makes it to the street.  Oughtta be pretty easy as it's a mob, but Kat does have a habit of being blind and deaf at times.  Per the map it's a straight shot there from the Oriental, but it's a pretty good distance hence I made the roll pre-emptively.

14:14, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 14,3 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (4+4+4+2)14,3. Notice Roll if it ends up necessary.

If it's an unnecessary roll we can just ignore it.

The bounty hunter see's Carl's nod, and slips the scrap of poster in to his pocket.

"Right!" he says. "The first thing to do is keep him from getting away. Where's your stable?"

"Right across the street!" Dave says.

"Then move it, people! The sooner you catch him, the sooner this will all be over."

The mob streams out into the street, leaving the place practically empty.

---

Charging Bear hustles towards the stables, cursing the fact that they're right across from the Grand Bull. That had been convenient when he'd come to town, but was much less so now.

But his legendary bad luck decided to strike, and he saw people filing into the streets While he was still a good distance from the stables. If he ran, he might make it to his horse, but he might not be able to make it out of the stables if they surround it.

Worse, he's been spotted, as the thug he knocked out yesterday points his way. "Look! There he is!"

Charging Bear also spot a familiar dark face in the crowd. Oh no...it's Lt. Cantrell!

---

Wildcat, keeping her eyes peeled for the mob, spots them boiling out of the Grand Bull, shouting and pointing. And Charging Bear is caught right in the open.

She, Katy, and Robert are some distance away. They might be able to get in a position to help them...if they hustle.

---

Initiative For The First Round:
Wildcat Hawkins: AD
Mighty Dave: AC
Robert Micklethwait: KS
Katy Devon: 10H
Charging Bear: 9H
Jericho Cantrell: 7H
Elijah: 7C
The Dust Adders: 6D
Carl: 6C
The Townsfolk: 3H

A short scene replayed from Katrina's memory.

"Mr. Armstrong... I think... I think I'm about to puke..."  complained a recent recruit as she leaned against the cedar tree.

"Good, then you're doing it right.  I'm going to make you run wild, 'Cat'."

Mobs never did anything good, except maybe raise barns.

21:57, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. running die... come on baby!.

Yeah!  Good enough anyway!  That's 11", so assuming each square is an inch still, that ought to get Wildcat close enough to Charging Bear they could hold hands if they wanted to.

As she runs, the Ranger, who tossed aside her self doubt for now, fills with indignation as her hands fill with the Winchester.  Ranger Wildcat Hawkins had spent the last years of her life living out her destiny as the shadow of Corporal Buster Hawkins.  Daphne's daughter Katrina was the end product of the character and discipline of a great and proud, if sometimes misguided and old fashioned, woman who didn't get nearly enough credit.  Sometimes the two were at odds, wrestling over control of her very identity.

But right now, they were united as the same woman.  Wildcat's flesh was as tough as old boot leather and more resilient than a cactus growing in Death Valley, but Katrina's soul was forged of iron and steel.  A crowd chanting 'Lynch the Savage' offended her to the core.

"Don't run, Deputy Bear, or we both die."  Kat says softly to the red man.  "At least they won't be hanging you alone."

A single shot rings out over the crowd.  The rifle clearly isn't aimed at anyone, but it is fired to make a nice loud noise.  Kat knows the bullet has to come down somewhere and aims it out of town, away from everything, praying it falls to earth harmlessly.

"All right now, this ballyhoo stops right here, this is Texas and we don't lynch nobody in Texas.  We gots orderly procedures for hangin', like civilized folks.  And it is written, 'Cursed is the man who withholds justice from the alien'!  Now what's this about!?"

22:34, Today: Wildcat Hawkins drew the single card: 5D using the Deadlands system. Card if needed.

Here's hoping Wildcat's jackassery makes Robert seem like the voice of reason by comparison...
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Wed 10 Nov 2010.

"Stand aside, bitch!" Shouts a familiar voice from the crowd. "You ought to be joining us in hanging this murdering, raping savage! Or else you can swing with him...don't much matter to us. Sure we don't lynch people...that's what the law if for. But the law done hired this bastard, so what are we gonna do then? Naw, we got to send a message to all them that would think they above us. We got to protect the town from this filth!"

[[OOC: Dave attempts an Intimidation Test of Wills against Wildcat.

Mighty Dave rolled 9,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+3)9,2. Test of Wills.

Wildcat, roll Spirit to resist.

Next round: Mighty Dave drew the single card: 2D]]

09:20, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 3,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,2. Spirit Roll.

And here's one of the warts of the SW system, even if I reroll this with a chip, I have only a 23.6% (12.5% + 11.1%) chance of beating him despite having a larger die type that should outroll his more often than that >_<.

But that's okay, Wildcat's intention was never to start a conventional fight with 19 opponents.  She can be a little unnerved.  Now if it were only 15 opponents, we'd be in business as the Winchester holds that many cartridges.

If nothing else I hope I've absorbed this "attack" such that Robert, who's far more likely to be effective here, can act unhindered!

Wildcat just momentarily stands there, not saying anything, but not moving away either.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #51):

OOC: red chip or blue chip
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Wed 10 Nov 2010.

OOC: Yes, Red chip...I love getting me those extra chips! }:D

09:50, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 3 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3. add a bonus die to the spirit roll.

Red chip.  It doesn't change anything else but being Shaken right now is bad.  9 less 6 is only 3 so I'll take it.

Looking over the crowd he knew that Wildkitten and he couldn't just shot the lot of them. Though he thought for as moment or two that it did sounds like a right nice idea but that was when he saw Cantrell. How'd that bastard find me? Rotten luck of mine... He smiled, maybe I can talk my way into a better situation.

Looking at the ranger, the native son nodded and said quietly, "Looks like my past has come a calling Ms Hawkins."

He turned back to the mod and stood his ground. Yelling into the crowd, he kept his eyes directly on the man how was there to see him swing. The man Charging Bear felt should have seen gallows years before. "Cantrell! I never expected to see your murderous face again. Not after that shit you tried to pull in Galveston back in '76. What was it two dozen women and children you wanted us to gun down cause you didn't think it was worth the Army's time and resources to deal with them proper? I'd've thought that the General would've had you locked up till dooms day. Guess hell must have froze over.

You worked the folks into a nice frenzy, too afraid to deal with me yourself? Or did you bring Itza-chu with you just in case? That murdering Apache was always ready to do your dirty work."

OOC: Talking only so consider me on hold

KS

Robert runs as well, to try to keep up, but his aging bones fall behind.

"Hold on there folks.  If the man's broke the law, he'll pay, a badge ain't the right to do anything.  But he'll pay under the law.  Who's his accuser?"

11:32, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 2 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2. run.
5+2 = 7
that puts me 7" away from the crows, or 14 yards, or 42 feet.  Visualizing my house, that's not bad
11:36, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 3,2 using d8+1,d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,1. persuasino.
+4, -1 wound, -2 MAP

17:09, Today: Robert Micklethwait drew the single card: 6C using a deck of 54 cards. card.


This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Thu 11 Nov 2010.

"That's the sort of biased lies I'd expect from a murdering savage, Charging Bear." Says a strong voice. A large black man in a black duster over and old Confederate Army jacket steps to the front. "I remember them well, since they cost me my commission. So yeah, don't think I wouldn't love to have you and me square off and cut each other until only one was left breathing. But this ain't about us. This is about what you did to Sequoya Smith, Jennifer McDonald, and especially Lt. Rose McAnally. That poor woman still can't speak, thanks the horrors you put her through when you misused her." he spits in disgust.

He looks at Wildcat. "You might want to keep your distance from this one, ma'am...he has a thing for female Rangers. The last one he was around wound up in a hospital with a wired-up jaw after he finished having his way with her. Hell, I'd have thought you'd have this in your Bible already. You Rangers were the ones who added the 'dead or alive' part to the price on this man's head."

"And the worst thing about it," he says, turning his attention to Robert, "is that the Marshal of this town not only didn't arrest this piece of work...he hired the bastard on. What do you do when the local law is that corrupt? Justice needs to be served. If the law can't or won't do that, then it's up to the people to take matters into their own hands, just like the Founding Fathers and Jeff Davis done."

"Now, these people want to see justice done, so unless you start clamping irons on this man right now and help me deliver him someplace a circuit judge has visited in the last three months, these people are going to do their duty and protect their town from this filth the only way they can."

[[OOC: Robert, Wildcat, you can try to fact check what he's saying with a Common Knowledge roll.

He's moved, but done no other actions aside from talking. I'll resolve this as an Intimdation Test of Wills against Wildcat.

Jericho Cantrell rolled 6,7 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,(6+1)7. Test of Wills. Roll Spirit for me again, Wildcat.

Next Round: Jericho Cantrell drew the single card: 5C]]

Elijah, Carl, and Katy Devon are up next.

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: Robert, what's your next round's initiative?]

Eli chose to stay near the back of the mob, on the porch of the Bull.  A notebook is tugged free of his jacket as he leans against a post.  His cane is propped nearby and a pencil fills the now free hand.  His eyes flick from the major players in turn, then to his notebook for a quick scribble, then back again to the scene.

OOC - Impartial Observer Hold

[Private to The Stray: As a former soldier and a freelance newsman in the Galveston area, I rolled a CK to Fact check as well.  After a White Chip, I got an 11 to remember the story.]

Sorry CB, but if you really did do something, Wildcat kind of has to arrest you, but better Wildcat than this asshole.

19:50, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 5,2 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,2. Common Knowledge.


The Dust Adder's bullying... Wildcat could handle that.  It wasn't pleasant but there was little she could do if he attacked anyway.

But this... Oh Hell No.  He did not just say that.

OOC:  Okay this is different.  This asshole just pushed Wildcat's berserk button.

19:45, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. burning a chip, screw this guy.
19:45, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 1,3 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. Spirit Roll.

That's a blue to get an 8 because he pissed me off.

Wildcat recalls some of the words she learned as a deputy and a trainee.

"You can go shove a branding iron up yer ass Cantrell!  You do not, ah repeat, you do not march yer little dancin' ass out here, incite a damned lynch mob, and then tell me what's in the pages of a book you ain't never seen much less read!

"You do not tell me what it is to be a Ranger or how to be one!  You've never lost anything to uphold what the Texas Rangers stand for!  When's the last time you got shot for something you believed in?  I've gotten shot for it six times... TODAY.  Just ask around.  What are you gonna do Cantrell?  Shoot me again?  Didn't accomplish much for the last few fellers!

"You do not make my sisters, or my brothers neither, out to be some kind of helpless victims of this red man or anyone else!  We're no more victims than men who get killed on the battlefield!  We choose to wear the badge, and we can get shot, stabbed and kilt as good as anyone else!

"An' I got news for ya Cantrell, this red man has come to mah aid twice today!  The damn Dust Adders you got with you seen it themselves both times!  Does he pick on female Rangers or does he help them?  Which is it Cantrell!?

"If'n he's a wanted criminal, I will arrest this redskin my damn self, but I ain't gonna fork him over to a yeller two bit bounty hunter who comes into my presence and presumes to tell me how to do mah job!  And what's more, I will arrest this man without violence.  You will all go about your business before cuffs come out.

"What in tarnation is wrong with you people!?  A man you ain't never seen before walks into town, tells you a story you can't verify, claims proof he can't produce, an' you all just walk out here to hang a man!?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:20, Thu 11 Nov 2010.

Jericho takes Wildcat's tirade against him without expression...then smiles. "Damn, that reminds me of someone I used to know. You must be Buster Hawkins' kid. Katrina, right? I heard you were out this area, trying to earn your first stripe and silver star."

He reaches into a pocket inside his duster. "And as for proof, well, I got that." He pulls for a small but thick book, battered all to hell, travelworn, stained, dogeared. The title, however, can still be read quite clearly: Fugitives from Justice in the Confederacy. "Straight from the lion's mouth, as it were." Jericho finishes.

"And apparently he does both. One right before the other. It's how he managed to get close enough to Irish Rose to brutalize her like that. She wasn't shot in the line of duty, or stabbed in a fight. She was targeted in her own home by someone she trusted, who then betrayed that trust in the most horrific fashion I can imagine. And now it seems he's trying to do it again. He's got you defending him already. It certainly didn't take long for you to fall under his spell."

[Private to Elijah Fuller: There was a news article not long back about a female Ranger being brutalized by an indian about a month back in Houston, though the details were withheld due to the ongoing investigation. However, Elijah, being the crafty fox that he is, managed to learn some more about this. apparently, there was one suspect, who forced his way into the home by kicking the door in during the middle of the night. There were two suspects wanted for questioning, both former army scouts. One was a Cherokee named Charging Bear, the other an Apache called Itza-chu. Both have similar heights and builds, and both had prior contact to the victim, though it wasn't clear in the story you heard what kind of contact that was.]

Carl has nabbed a bottle from the bar and is leaning against a pole of the saloon porch. It's a struggle not to just give in and get smashed, but Carl's anger is running deep and cold as a Russian river and the drink just sharpens him up, gives him a killing edge.

He hands the bottle across to Mike, throat burning like he could spit fire, and clicks high for Dave's attention, tapping his chest. The injun had helped him today. Then bushwhacked him so sudden he panicked and bit like a puppy. Carl nods across at Mike, who's seen the redskin switch from gentle to combat, too, then gestures from Dave to Robert Mickelthwait. The old deputy has seen Charging Bear attack Dave with axes over a stray bullet.

His whole body tense, Carl strikes where his heart is traditionally held to be, then gestures out at the Ranger, or sub-Ranger, or whatever she is.
"..."

Charging Bear might note that part of the man's anger seems to stem from a deeply-ingrained respect for his uniform - there's something like betrayal fuelling his hate.

"Carl's right!" one of the Dust Adders calls from the crowd "Most of us here have seen how quick he done goes from calm to raging an' bloodthirsty!"

The crowd of Dust Adders begins to rumble in agreement, their voices all clamoring together as they tell their tales.

"...went completely nuts when he got hit with a stray bullet..."

"...just leaped off the roof at Carl...like he thought he could fly..."

"...tore into that soldier, even with three feet of steel through his guts..."

"...charged right up a hill at a sniper...and when he was tossed off, I'd'a sworn he was fixin' to get up and go after him again..."

"...don't you have any human sympathy at all for that girl he done ravished, Ranger?..."

The rest of the corwd is mumbling invectives too.

"...lot of bodies piling up since he came to town..."

"...what was Evans thinking, hiring such a madman as a deputy?"

"...Frost had the right idea, we should tar and feather the whole lot of them..."

"...Oughta be stoned, is what we should do...hanging's too good for 'em..."

---

[[OOC: Both the crowds of Dust adders and Townsfolk are going On Hold, arguing and being generally nasty but performing no actions just yet. Let's keep that tension high!]]

---

Next Round:
Robert Micklethwait: 6C
Wildcat Hawkins: 5D
Jericho Cantrell: 5C
Mighty Dave: 2D
Carl: On Hold (May go whenever, roll opposed agility to interrupt an action)
Charging Bear: On Hold (May go whenever, roll opposed agility to interrupt an action)
Katy Devon: On Hold (May go whenever, roll opposed agility to interrupt an action)
Elijah Fuller: On Hold (May go whenever, roll opposed agility to interrupt an action)
The Dust Adders: On Hold (May go whenever, roll opposed agility to interrupt an action)
The Townsfolk: On Hold (May go whenever, roll opposed agility to interrupt an action)

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #60):

Cantrell's words hit Charging Bear like a sledge hammer. Shaken by the brutal accusations, the native son took a half step away from the mob and looked like he might fall to his knees. He looked down for a long moment, "When..." he said, his voice barely a whisper. He didn't speak again until he looked back up, perhaps using the time to gain some of the 'rage' the towns folks had talked so much of. His eyes were hard, though tears were running down his cheek, as he looked back at Cantrell.

"When? When did that happen to Rose, Cantrell? I've not seen her in months now, not since she asked for my help over in Arizona. After that I was working Pony Express."

He looked over the crowed, knowing that several of them had a grudge against him simply cause he didn't back down to them when other had. Charging Bear's gaze returned to Cantrell, "If these fine folks don't lynch me... I know I can prove my innocence. Then maybe we can find the person who actually did those horrible... horrible things."

OOC: Common knowledge about the women?
08:49, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,3 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,3. Common Knowledge.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:02, Thu 11 Nov 2010.

Without even looking up from his notebook, Elijah starts quietly throwing some more inormation into the confusion, "I was in Galveston...  The way I heard it, there was some other Redskin coulda done it.  Apache....  Now them Apaches are some fierce pieces of work, I tell ya what.  Been holdin' up Bayou Vermillion with their ambushes and what not."  Cocking a knowing kind of grin at some townie nearby, "C'mon?  Who ever heard of "Cherokee" raisin' hell?  They're too civilised.  Most Injun' say a Cherokee smells to much like a white man.  Nope.  My money'd be on the Apache."

OOC - Persuasion 8, after spending a Blue.  Trying to sway the crowd towards indecision.  Reasonable doubt, as t'were.

[[OOC: Charging Bear, I'd like you to roll Spirit for your plea. I'm counting this as a sort of Trick against Jericho Cantrell. It will be resisted by his own Spirit. I'll also want you to draw another Initiative Card.

Elijah, this is going to count as an action, so I also need you to draw a new initiative card for the next round, assuming this proceeds that far.]]

[Private to Charging Bear: Sequoya Smith was a male scout, another Cherokee in the same unit as you and Itza-chu. I'm sure CB would have known about that death...it's why, initially, he was wanted. He's never heard of a 'Jennifer McDonald,' though proving that to a white man's court is going to be pretty darn difficult.]

OOC: Works for me
10:56, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,9 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+3)9. Spirit.
10:57, Today: Charging Bear drew the single card: 3D using a deck of 54 cards. Initiative.

OOC -  Roger that, boss.  Initiative draw JS

[[OOC: Waiting on Robert to take his turn, and then Wildcat, before Jericho responds.  However, he failed against CB by 1, even after spending a Red Chip, so that's something, at least.]]

OOC: shesh, I go first with a 6c?  I have an action, but I need to know what my CK check gives me.

09:34, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 6,5 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,5. CK roll for what Jericho said.
6

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #69):

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: There was a news article not long back about a female Ranger being brutalized by an indian about a month back in Houston, though the details were withheld due to the ongoing investigation. Superficially, it confirms what he said, but that reporter over there mentioned the possibility of an alternative suspect in that case, and Robert knows that cases are won by raising doubt, not proving innocence.

The main problem is that lynch mobs aren't known for their adherence to due process, and part of the anger here is that Charging Bear has actively opposed the Dust Adders, who make up more than half of this crowd. There's a lot of "anti-lawman" sentiment running through this crowd, so if you're going to convince them to back down appealing to the Law is probably not going to help.

You'll need to figure out some way to placate them, at least in the short term, and keep them from rising up again in the long term. You might want to turn their attention to something else, or raise the specter of bigger problems for them to worry about.

Also, Robert is beginning to feel rather thirsty.]

I made the CK roll before.  Did I learn anything either?

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #71):

[Private to Wildcat Hawkins: There was dark talk about a female Ranger being brutalized by an indian about a month back in Houston, though the details were withheld due to the ongoing investigation. Superficially, it confirms what Jericho said, but that reporter over there mentioned the possibility of an alternative suspect in that case. Wildcat didn't connect the dots between Irish Rose and this case because of that information being withheld. It should be easy enough to confirm some names with a telegram, assuming the telegram goes through]

Robert steps closer.  "If you had any respect for the law, you wouldn't be waving around that book.  It only belongs to Rangers, so one must have died for it.  Suppose I accused you of murdering a Ranger for that book and raised u up a mob to lynch you, would that be justice?  For all I know you did kill a Ranger for that book, did you?" without giving him a chance to responde.  "If you were truly interested in Justice, not Vengence, you wouldn't have raised a mob!  You say the law here is corrupt, the law here is a local man they gave a badge to, how's he supposed to know everyone wanted man in Texas?"  Robert lowers his voice slightly, conspiritually, "If this Injun raped a white women, wouldn't you want a trial, so all will know what happened, and that he paid for it?  Teach those other filthy savages to stay away from white women.  Before now, I'd've called him my friend, but if he did what you say, I'll drink a toast to his corpse as it dances on a rope!"


10:11, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 5,8 using d8+3,d6+3, rerolling max with rolls of 2,5. Persuation test of wills.

10:11, Today: Robert Micklethwait drew the single card: 7D using a deck of 54 cards. next round.
I finally remembered.

"You sure know a lot Cantrell, but you don't know it all."  Her tone's a lot more reasonable when she isn't being bullied.  Wildcat directs the next part of her comment toward the townsfolk... and even, regretfully, the Dust Adders.  "Ah swear on a stack of Bibles that not thirty minnit ago, I sent a telegram to Lieutenant McAnally herself care of the Austin dispatch office informing her that Charging Bear was in Blackthorn!  An' this redskin will tell you, I been with him or trailing him since the very sec'nd I realized he were here!  I have been on top of this redskin since the moment he showed his face to me, and the top brass have been informed.

"And in case you haven't noticed, some dumbasses"  that's toward the Adders "threw a little party the other day and blew up the jail and the marshal's office, so ah did not have the resources to just arrest him immediately.  But right now, this very second, Marshal Evans himself is searching for an alternate site.  We have been on top of this long before your dancing ass showed up.  That is why you do not tell me how to do my job, Cantrell!

"But you got mah name right.  Katrina Hawkins, in the flesh."  Wildcat tips her hat by way of greeting, if only so Cantrell can see the bullet hole in it.  "And if you know who I am, you know that this little stunt of yers is a lost cause.

"Cantrell even though you don't know it all, you do know a lot, but you sure don't understand much.  Buster Hawkins was sitting in a saloon waiting to come home to Bastrop when he came to the aid of a feller whose name he barely even knew.  It don't matter if yer retired, squatting in an outhouse, or going heels to Jesus, Rangers are always on duty.

"And there ain't no good reason you should have that book, Cantrell.  Mister Mickle-Fwate is right.  When that book gets in the hands of people who ain't s'posed to have it, things like this happen.  But ignorin' that fer the moment, if that's yer proof against this redskin ah reckon it's downright fair I should see it to verify it for th' people here, or are they just s'posed ta take yer word fer it?  Is it even the latest edition?"

12:29, Today: Wildcat Hawkins drew the single card: 2D using the Deadlands system. 

Although technically I haven't acted yet.

Jericho listens to all the entreaties.

"Look." he says, addressing Charging Bear. "I'm not unsympathetic to your cause. Hell, I half believe that maybe you didn't rape that woman...I have another suspect to chase, after all. An old friend of yours, if you can beleive it. But it don't matter what I beleive or don't beleive. It don't matter if you can prove you're innocent to the circuit judge, the Supreme Court, or God Almighty himself, because you got to get there first. If you want to live to see then end of today, and maybe have that chance to prove yourself an innocent man, then you're going to put these on," and here he pulls out a pair of handcuffs and drops them into the mud at the native son's feet, "and come with me back to Victoria, where you can luxuriate in a nice jail cell until your trial. Or you can resist, in which case I'll just step aside and let this mob tear you to pieces. What will it be, Charging Bear?"

He turns Wildcat. "So you're telling me the law here ain't corrupt, just incompetent? The jail has been blowed up, and county records state that this place ain't seen a judge in three months, maybe even longer. I didn't stir up these people," He points to Dave, skulking in the crowd, "He did. So go yell at him if you want to. Or you can actually do your damn job, the one you're telling me not to tell you how to do, and we can take a trip up to Victoria and see this man to the judge there. You collect the credit for bringing a wanted suspect to justice, I collect the bounty, he gets his day in court to prove his innocence, and we can part ways. Win-win for all of us. We can even discuss the Bible situation, if you've a mind to. But you better make up your damn mind fast, because these people want a hanging, and as you say they've already shot you once today."

"And as for you," He says, turning to Robert, then frowns, "Who the Hell are you, anyhow?"

[[OOC: Well, you've convinced Cantrell to listen to reason. Now you have to work on the mob...And who knows what Carl and Dave will do?

Jericho Cantrell drew the single card: 3S]]

---

Carl is up next.

Carl raises an eyebrow at Dave at Wildcat's assertion that she's been on top of Charging Bear since she found him. "..."

He nurses the dregs at the bottom of the bottle when it returns to him, the twitch of his hand and the amber swirl of liquid the only movement as he watches what Charging Bear will do next. The savage had seemed quite hard-hit by the charges...but then so would Carl, if he'd done something that terrible and had it catch up to him. The mob will have blood, and there's still the matter of Evans hiring on a man wanted for rape and woman-killing.

The cattlehand looks across at Eli when he speaks, coldly hostile, then away again when he sees he's not looking up. The hell was he going on about? Hostile Apache wandering the east coast? Anyhow...that Ranger better get the cuffs on the savage if he has nothing to hide. If not, Carl might just have to remind her of her humanity.

And hang the injun in case, of course. Shame if he was innocent, but the gang couldn't let strangers jes' roll in and take bounty with witnesses to boot.

The dreg-whiskey rolls, dark in the stormlight.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:51, Thu 11 Nov 2010.

OOC: 100% narrative, enjoy!

Charging Bear looked down at the handcuffs. He'd worn them before, after his family had been killed and General Kursch's men had found him running away. Promises of youth... the native son thought as he recalled the happening of that part of his life.

---

It was October 1864, most of the leaves had fallen from the trees around the small village where two dozen or so Cherokee had come to call home. It wasn't much but none of the residential wanted for food or warmth, what more could a hunted people ask? Then War descended upon them. The Union Army had come from the North, killing anyone they'd run across. The village were followers of the old ways, the Union soldier's guns made quick work of the warriors who resisted. Those that didn't suffered an ever worse fate. The General decided that shooting was too good for the natives and had them all burned alive.

A handful of children had been out playing in a groove of pine out past the village when the sounds of guns filled the afternoon. Charging Bear and his friends came running, but they were too late. They could but watch as their families either lied dead or were burned. When the Union soldiers tired of watching the native sons and daughters burn they took the weapons of the people and began to hack at them. Some of the soldiers used bows, others war clubs but regardless it was a brutal sight to endure.

Charging Bear could do nothing, he was a but a boy of perhaps ten and against seasoned soldiers he would suffer the same fate as his family whom he watched get slaughtered, even his baby sister who had just turned two. It was his sister's body which brought the boy out, he rushed from his hiding place to see if he could find her when he did not see her in the masses of bodies. A soldier saw the lad and ran after. A quick shot to the head with the end of a rifle does quick work of a ten year old.

The next several weeks were a blur. Charging Bear was taken in chains for the Union Soldiers amusement. They were cruel men, but none more cruel than their leader General Kursch. The soldiers tormented the boy, made him fetch them water and even shot at him just to frighten him. This went on for the better part of a month, when at last a group of Comanche met up with the soldiers. While Kursch and half of his men managed to escape, Charging Bear was set free. He promised himself that he would never be in such chains again.

Not knowing where else to go, Charging Bear went home. He found the bodies of his family and friends where the soldiers had left them. An old man was there, slowly working to bury the dead. The man was Charging Bear's grandfather, Black Fox, and had been the spiritual leader of his tribe. Black Fox had been off with other tribal spiritual leaders at the time of the attack and come home to find his people slain. So it was that he now spent his days sending his people to the afterlife. He and Charging Bear would spend the next two weeks doing those, until such time as all the tribe had been seen to properly.

"You're not as dumb as you look Cantrell.  I ain't got nary a problem with taking Charging Bear to a real court to face his accusers.  But you don't call the shots here Cantrell.  The dispatch in Austin does.  I am not at liberty to just leave while conducting an ongoing investigation nor am I at liberty to release a wanted man to a non-officer."

Wildcat reflected.  It truly did not matter if Charging Bear were innocent, because in the court of public opinion, in Blackthorn at least, he was guilty.  There was only one way to protect him.  She didn't want to do this in front of the crowd, but something had to break here and fast.

"A telegram will be coming from Austin sometime relatively soon, but if they don't address the matter I will wire them again and I'll even mention you Cantrell.  If Austin tells me to take him to Victoria, yer welcome to come with.  If Austin tells me to keep 'im here, he stays here, and if they tell me to take 'im to the gates of hell, we'll go to the gates of hell.  If they send another Ranger to fetch 'im, he goes with th' other Ranger.  If it turns out he ain't wanted for anything after all, which he may not be since you won't let me verify that he's not only in the book but that you got the latest edition, well, he walks free same as any man.  But I don't imagine he'll stay in Blackthorn in that event anyhow.

"He is going to the pokey in th' interim though, if only because I have to place him in protective custody.  But he ain't goin' nowhere with you.  He's comin' with me, and he will have his day to face his accusations fair 'n square."

Wildcat retrieves her own handcuffs.  That filthy bounty hunter's wrist irons weren't going to touch Charging Bear.

"Deputy Bear, consider yourself relieved of duty.  I'll ask you to kindly hand your armament to Deputy Mickle-thwate and place your hands behind your back.  Yer under arrest and hereby reprimanded into protective custody until such time charges filed against you can be verified, at which time the appropriate jur'sdiction will be contacted.  Show's over folks, go back to yer supper."

With a nod, Charging Bear did as the Ranger requested. Using his off hand he unbuckled his gunbelt and handed it to Robert. He followed that with his pair of tomahawks and a knife in his boot. "That's all of it." Looking at the crowd he knew they would most likely jump Wildkitten as soon as the cuffs were on him, but he could do nothing else. So Charging Bear did as he was asked and put his hands behind his back.

Wildcat cinches on the cuffs like she's been trained to do.  She's tempted to give the red man's wrists a little more breathing room, but resists the urge to do so.

"Deputy Mickle-fwate, if you'd be so kind as to cover the suspect in the event he tries to make a break for it, I will escort him while we wait for the Marshal to deliver us news of our temper'ry jail.  It generally works best if'n ya stay about five paces behind me."

What in the hells was Miss Katy's surname?  She couldn't call her Deputy Miss Katy, that was stupid.  And given the attitude of this crowd, she really didn't want them to associate Katy with herself or Evans anyway.

"Miss Katy, if you would do me a personal favor and fetch mah lariat off mah horse Idjit as we pass by th' stables?  He's the chesnut one on th' right hand side.  Ah'd be much obliged to ya Miss Katy."

Wildcat starts to turn to walk away, back toward the theater.  Not run, walk, nice and normal, with confidence.

"Robert micklethwait, attorney at law, and presently a deputy in this town." Robert replies politly, handing him a card.  "Here's my card, should you find yourself in legal trouble.  You'll find my rates reasonable, and I'd guess you'll soon enough find yourself needing a lawyer."

After Wildcat cuffs Charging Bear, he does as she directs.

The slow swirl of liquid stops. Carl swigs the last of it, eyes still fixed on the little group out front of the mob to be sure the injun gets properly tethered.

Then he pushes away from the post, gesturing down the street and away from the prisoner with the empty bottle. "..."
[Private to GM: "Reckon we should go find out what Evans is doing...and let other folks know what he's done. You're the talker, Dave...work your magic. Don't have to follow them, but we've got him now. He'll run.]

Carl pauses and looks back at Wildcat whilst decending to the street, then gives Robert an unreadable stare and turns his attention to the crowd, jerking his head back a little at the departing Ranger. She should have a man with her.

Jericho takes the card and puts it into his pocket without even glancing at it, more interested in seeing the indian put in cuffs. He certainly seems to be enjoying the sight.

"I'm fine with waiting for your telegram to get here, Miss Hawkins." he says "But I'll stop calling the shots when you're wearing a star of silver, not tin."

Meanwhile, Dave glowers. "Right. I reckon we got a crooked Marshal to find, and I think the whole damn town needs to hear his explanation for letting this criminal push us all around..."

*SQUOOSH!*

Suddenly the center of the crowd is inundated by a wave of a white, sticky goop that knocks most of the Dust Adders in the center over.  The goop glues just about everyone in their tracks, preventing them from moving much further down the street.

Marshal Evans stands on the boardwalk just outside the General Store, looking at the crowd with a fierce grimace. In his hands is some sort of nozzle device that looks like it was hastily assembled from spare irrigation supplies, attached to a hose running to a tin milk jug strapped to his back.

"RIGHT!" he shouts at the crowd. "I have quite reached the end of my tether! I have had enough of this thuggery! So, now that I have your attention, there will be no more of this nonsense in town! Is that understood?" he waits for a response, then looks at the small knot of Wildcat, Cantrell, Charging Bear, and Robert. "Would one of you kindly explain to me just what in the nine flaming circles of Hell is the bother this time?"

[Private to Carl: Carl, if you want to avoid being trapped by the sticky glue, you'll need to roll Agility and beat Evans' roll of 10 to be free of it completely.]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:10, Fri 12 Nov 2010.

"It's quite simple, really.  As marshal of this town, you are expected to know by name and sight every single wanted man, criminal, and miscreate in then entire Confederacy." Robert replies sarcastically.  "Since you knowingly hired a man who has been accused of a crime, clearly you are corrupt.  After all..," Robert turns to address the crowd.  "Marshal Evans, he's been a law man for years.  He was a Texas Ranger, he has a copy of the Ranger book with a list of all wanted criminals, right?"

Carl grimaces as the back of his head hits the edge of the Grand Bull's porch and flails to get back to a sitting position, leaving his hat buried somewhere in the...splurge. The Dust Adder hacks and spits gunk and rainwater, his glare promising Evans would be dying a goo-filled death if only he was free that instant.

A faint snarl of mingled hatred and contempt touches Carl's lips, but he says nothing at all, even though the accusation's there in his stare. "..."

[Private to GM: "Yankee."
*bargepolepoke* is that IC-ignoring of Alouette in t'other thread, then, or...?]

"Cantrell the only shot you call around here is bourbon or tequila-"  Wildat starts in until the deluge interrupts her.

Wildcat blinks, taken aback by the sight.  She wants to laugh but doesn't while Robert explains the goings on.  There's mirth in her voice nevertheless.

"Well howdy-doo to you to Marshall.  Ah do appreciate the assist, but it's been handled.  Deputy Mickle-fwate explained it very well as he so often does.  Ah would like to add that ya must be a terrible Marshal, not arresting folks when you ain't go no jail to set them in because some idjits complainin' 'bout a criminal bein' on th' loose were the ones who done blew up yer pokey, and then goin' out and finding a temporary replacement, what were you a thinkin'?"

Wildcat turns Charging Bear to face Evans.  She becomes more official.  While in her heart Kat didn't believe a guilty man would have come without a fight, duty compelled her to clear Charging Bear legitimately before she could let him go.  Charging Bear would be better off that way too.

"As of this moment the deputy here has been relieved of duty and placed in protective custody as a precautionary measure pending an official confirmation from Austin.  I don't know whether we're protecting these folks from him or vice versa, but either way here he is.  These folks are just going to clean themselves up and go about their business now, aren't ya now?"

Evans, though he clearly has many more questions to ask, decides to stow them for now. "I...see. Charging Bear stands accused of a crime, then. How unfortunate. I suppose I shall have to move him to the...the temporary jail I've secured. Yes."

He aims his glue gun back at the entangled crowd. "Now, you should know that this binding is only temporary, and should dissolve sometime before nightfall. And I especially would like you to know that the chance of the formula spontaneously combusting and burning you all to cinders is quite remote...as long as no one discharges any firearms while they are covered with it. So relax, calm down, and those of you who are able to move clear out of here now. And as for the rest of you, take some time to reflect on your actions and select more peaceable alternatives in the future."

"Because the next time I have to break up a hostile crowd bent on an unlawful execution," he snarls, "This tank will be filled with flesh-eating acid. I will not tolerate lynchings in Blackthorn. Nor will I abide any further assaults on officers of the law. This is your first, last, and only warning. You've already lost four of your number, including your leader. Quit while you still can."

He looks at Robert and Wildcat. "Please escort the prisoner to our, er, temporary facilities." He says, and begins to walk away.

Meanwhile, those Dust Adders and townsfolk not stuck to anything slink away, leaving the rest to stew in the goop.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Fri 12 Nov 2010.

Robert says, "Excuse me, miss." to Wildcan and runs to catch up to Evans.  In a low voice, he asks, "Where is the temporary jail?  And we need to talk, Miss Lucy is dead."

"We are going to her house. It's one of the houses just across from where my jail used to be, near the old miner's association office." He says, then shakes his head. "No. Change of plans. If I'm going to need a jail, the miner's association had a vault that would serve for a little while."

He sighs at the news. "I was afraid of that. Dead as in...?"

"Staked.  I can fill you in privately." robert replies, as he motions Wildcan over.

OOC: I'm assuming that Evan's was headed towards the old office, and we can all head towards it together. 

Wildcat follows with Charging Bear.

"Ah will need someone to play jailer fer a little bit.  I truly did send the telegram, and it truly were addressed to th' Lieutenant, if only in part, but there were a problem.  Ah'll want to go back to th' office when they try 'er again.  But other than that, I can handle it."

"Who is the large fellow who seems to be tailing us?" Evans asks, surreptitiously pointing to Cantrell, who seems to be following behind the quartet as if he intends to join them.

"Oh, him?  He's the Bounty Hunter who things you are corrupt for knowingly hiring a murdering raping indian."  Robert replies.  "He presumably thinks you will be letting Charging Bear go to continue his rampage and claim he escaped."

Charging Bear goes where he is directed. The native son is thankful for his newly acquired hat for keeping the rain off him.

"I see. hmm...well, I'm short of both manpower and patience. I have two questions. Charging Bear, if I were to appoint him your jailer to keep him out of trouble, how likely would it be that he tries to murder you for whatever it is he thinks you've done, and how determined would he be be to meddle in local affairs if I were to glue him to a wall?"

"Supposedly I'm wanted dead or alive... easier to collect bounty on a deadman." Charging Bear says, in a rather manner of fact manner. "I won't cause trouble but if he tries to put an end to me... I won't go without a fight."

"That answers one question. What about the other?"

With a shrug, Charging Bear says, "I think he's here to find his bounties."

"are you sure?  He seemed willing earlier to let the mob lynch you"  Robert asks

"And he's collect my body and then collect the bounty on my head." Charging Bear replied, "Again, it is far easier to get a bounty on a body."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:26, Fri 12 Nov 2010.

"Right. Robert, I want you to go inform him that he had best conduct any other business he has in town with haste while Miss Hawkins and I finish this duty. Be persuasive. Also inform him that if he continues to cause such outrages in town while he's here I will lock him in the same cell as Charging Bear and let nature take its course."

"I think he intends to follow and make sure Bear is locked up, then lurk around so you don't let him loose.  But I'll try."

Robert moves back to talk to the Bounty Hunter.  with a disarming smile, he says, "The marshal and Ranger Hawkins are going to lock up the prisoner.  He requests that you conduct any other business you have in town with haste, and if you continue to cause such outrages you will be locked up as well.  In the same cell as Charging Bear."

"Really? Well, that's mighty kind of him, to be so concerned about my business, but I have a decent investment to protect." he says with a grin. "I have a lot riding on seeing that the savage gets what he deserves. Besides, I didn't cause the riot. The people fed up with being bullied an intimidated by a wanted fugitive with a badge did that."

*WHI-IT*

If Evans turns at the whistle, he'll find himself (briefly) eye-to-eye with an unattended bottle.


[[3 Throwing, 8 + blue, 4 damage ]]

"I believe your words were, 'these people are going to do their duty and protect their town'.  Sounds to me like you were encouraging a lynching, or in legal terms, incitation to riot.

"You called Marshal Evan's corrupt for hiring Bear.  Marshal Evan's is just a local man, not a professional law man, how's he supposed to know that some random stranger is wanted?

You seem to judge a man by the company he keeps, well hear this.  Half that map you led back there were part of the Dust Adders, local bandits that have most of this town running scared.  Last night they dynamited the Marshal's office and the saloon you came charging out of and had a blazing gunfight in the streets." Robert indicates the bandages on his face.  "Of course they don't like Charging Bear, he's working for the only man in this town willing to stand up to them.  Of course they told you what you wanted to hear.  'Oh, that evil Injun done been mean to me!  The Marshal won't stop him, we'll have to lynch him.  Mercy me, good thing you are here Mr. Cantrell to stop that savage.'  You were used, son, by a bunch of men to cowardly to fight for themselves.
"You should be more careful with the company you keep.

"Oh, and the circuit judge is dead, killed a night or two ago."  Robert had just about finished when a bottle flew past him.




OOC: since I was more or less facing that way, do I see who threw it

13:00, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 9,7 using d8+3,d6+3, rerolling max with rolls of 6,4. Persuastion.
a 9 to talk to Jericho

"You do not. Attack mah town. You Yankee sonofa bitch!"

It's not hard to pinpoint the source of the cry, though the locals may not believe it (the Allans boy hasn't spoken a word in public since he was sixteen and first went out to see off raiders with the militia - there had been speculation he'd lost his tongue in the fight).

Carl lets his hand fall back into the splurge, not caring if he's seen. Hoping he is seen. These people know Nate Frost was the only threat that faced them from the Dust Adders, and he's gone. Even Nate never threatened them with vitriol.

Carl would have given his life for his state's freedom during the war. Ward may shut his eyes to a badge, but there's more than birthplace loyalty to the set of Evans' morals, and Carl knows when he smells Yankee. Ward, Ranger or Evans, they'll have to kill him before he'll let the marshal rule the place he was born.

Elijah, managing to look up at just the right moment, managed to shift around the post.  The sticky goop splashed against the post, getting some on his suit and a boot, but over all he's unstuck.  Shaking his head with a grin, he tugs his cane free and begins to hobble (made more difficult with a sticky boot) after the Cantrell, the Ranger, the Marshal, and his deputies.  He starts to raise a hand, begins to call out, when a bottle whips past him.  Ducking to the side after it passes, luckily not meant for him, the reporter stumbles on his lame leg.  Nonetheless, he remains smiling.  I love this town...  I'm gonna be rich...

The Amazing Evans:

The bottle hits Evans high on the shoulder before bouncing away into the mud.

Evans halts, staring at Carl with a mixture of shock and growing rage. He leaves Wildcat in care of her prisoner, and storms back over to the gummed-up crowd.

"Right. You're under arrest for disruption of the peace and assaulting an officer of the law." He says, hauling The Dust Adder to his feet. He roughly puts Carl's free arm behind him, and Carl can hear the clink of handcuffs as Evans snaps them around his wrists. "You're going to spend the night sobering up in a cell right next to the man you just tried to hang, contemplating your future and how all of this could have been avoided if you and your friends had just let this feud against me die with Nathanial Frost."

with that, he begins pulling Carl back towards the others.

[[OOC: Evans attempts a grab to handcuff Carl. With Carl Restrained, his Parry drops to a 2.

The Amazing Evans rolled 1,2 using d4-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Grapple! Just enough.

Because Carl is still restrained by the goo, he's going to have to try and escape the gloop first before he can try to escape Evans' custody.]]

Jericho Cantrell:

"If I was used sir, it was a mutual using. I've been after that man too long to let him slip away on me now. They may be ruffians, but that don't matter much to me. They don't have faces gracing wanted posters, nor do they have people willing to pay good money to see them brought in." he looks back towards the altercation between the Marshal and the Dust Adder. "Besides, I can see which way the wind is blowing here. The Marshal and that Ranger are going to be the first up against the wall when they get their act together and the revolution comes. I know which side I'd rather be on when that happens...and you might want to seriously consider your own allegiances, unless you'd care to be up against that wall with 'em."

He takes the news of the death of the judge with remarkable calm. "I wondered if something like that might have been the case. doesn't really matter. Once I get him to Victoria, I can take the BV line to a jurisdiction where the judge don't ride the circuit."

Carl looks up at Evans, drenched, feral, and all but snarling, one shoulder shivering from taking his weight on a minor wound. He looks like nothing so much as a scrawny, mangy southern wolf in a trap.

It seems he can't be pulled free or rise from the goop, but as soon as Evans has him cuffed he throws his weight hard against the side of the marshal's legs, sending him headlong into where the mess of splurge and angry people is thickest. See how he likes it.


[[Agility: fail!
Shoving Evans: 12.]]

As Carl shifts his weight and tries to knock Evans off his feet, the Marshal grabs on to the hitching post. He stumbles a little, but is able to keep his balance.

"Enough of that, dammit!" He growls, pointing the nozzle of his glue gun at the struggling Dust Adder. Another squirt of the substance freezes Carl in place, and he finds he can't move at all now. Evans sighs, grabs Carl by the leg, and begins to drag him through the mud and rain.

"Look," he gasps at he pulls, "I...really don't...want to...have to do this. I would...in fact...prefer not..to have to...tangle with you...and your friends...at all. We have...bigger problems...to deal with...and for God's sake...I am going to need...your damn help...to deal with it all. If you want me...out of your life...then stop struggling...for a bit...and I'll tell you...how you...can make that happen. Deal?"

[[OOC: Evans blows a few chips to resist being knocked over, then blows a white chip to help him glue Carl down even more.]]

Carl raises his head enough to look bemused.

"..."

It's not as though he's in a position not to get talked at by Evans anyway, but it's clear the man's listening.

Elijah rights himself, pushing back up straight with the help of his cane.  Quirking a brow, he, like most of the others, observes the play by play between Evans and the quiet, angry fella.  As is his habit, he makes a vain attempt at cutting the tension and getting noticed by the passel of deputies and Ranger, "Now that.  /That/ is ragin'.  Got to respect the tenacity though."

Wildcat draws her pistol and points it in Charging Bears' general direction, but it's at the low ready position.  She gives him a glance that strongly suggests she isn't intending on shooting him.

The truth is she just wants to be ready to shoot somebody if she has to and her prisoner makes the most viable excuse for pulling the gun out at all, especially since the rest of the detail accompanying the red man has left her to her own devices.

"Oh Lord."  she remarks.  Wildcat knew that as much banter as she'd thrown at Cantrell, it'd been Deputy Mickle-fwate's eloquence and charisma which had leveraged it all into a respectable ending for such a terrible scenario, and he was busy with that jackass.

Evans' timing in this event couldn't have been worse.  While it was funny, the massive glue attack had served little purpose other than to bruise egos.  She considered the irony that he had implored her to leave the Dust Adders be, yet here he was instigating more conflict with them.  She'd tried to do her best in the situation to make it appear Evans was trying to address the crowd's perceived problem with the Indian, hoping to at least keep him from losing more perceived legitimacy, but this could be a public relations disaster.  She'd tried to take the heat for Evans when she could, letting the Dust Adders think she'd killed their man, being the unpopular one who wouldn't let so called "justice" be carried out on the red man, and any small thing she could do to make him look more reasonable by comparison.  And she would keep trying, hoping when she eventually had to leave Blackthorn she'd take the negative feelings about the law in Blackthorn with her.

Whatever yer about to do fellers, make it count.

Wildcat felt a terrible feeling in her gut.  It was helplessness, something she wasn't used to feeling.  If this really did get out of control, there would be nothing she could do other than continue escorting Charging Bear to the mining association.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:30, Sat 13 Nov 2010.

Wildcat looks at Elijah, not knowing him from Adam, but he'd been the one to make the remark that she felt Robert had capitalized on.  She'd appreciated it too, it made her feel better about sticking her neck out, even though she'd do that anyway.  Hell, she wouldn't let Hardin himself get lynched.  To do so was a betrayal of everything she held close and dear.

"I wouldn't get too enamored with th' fella, he only acts like that 'cuz he's got a gang of fellers at his beck and call.  Any thang he does in this town, he does from a position of absolute str'nth.  An' that's the problem partner.  When ya section off a few people an' call yerselves th' Dust Adders or th' James Gang or whatever, well that might be fine but th' problem is they ain't accountable to any oth'r men, an' that's when you get a town where folks ride through the streets slinging lead and tossing dynamite, gun fights in the alley, and attempted murderers have to be left unpursued because somebody has to clean up the mess."

Evans helps Carl to his feet, though since he's still gummed up the Dust Adder won't be walking anywhere in a hurry. Evans whispers to Carl as he helps 'walk' the man back towards the others.

"Look. We have something that we need to get straight. I'm not trying to rule over you. Yes, I'm a Boston man, born and raised, but that doesn't make me a Yankee, just a former citizen of the North. I left all that behind years ago."

He sighs. "But you have to remember why I'm the Marshal here. It was the people of Blackthorn who elected me to this position, after that business with the raiders. I'm sure you remember them...the ones who crawled out of the cemetery? I remember you there, just after that showdown between Nathanial and that Chinese fellow with the torn up face."

"Now, the thing is, that something like that is happening again. It started with some Union soldiers, but it's spreading. One of your friends got attacked and transformed into the walking dead...the Ranger found him this morning after he tried to gnaw on her face. I've just spent the day hunting for others at the Oriental theater, and Charging Bear told me that you faced yet another one at Ward's place last night."

"So we have a major, major problem developing. That's why the Ranger is here in the first place. If you want her gone, and if you want me to follow her, then we can't keep getting into conflicts like this with you and your friends. After this problem is dealt with, I'll step down as Marshal and leave town, if that's what you still want. Until that happens, I want to call a truce between the Law and the Dust Adders. In fact, I'd like to hire you on as a deputy, so you can have some input in how we do things around here. Interested?"

Carl gives Evans a dead look as he hops, still pale with rage everywhere that's not plastered with mud. Ain't someone who loves the CSA and folks in it who hires on a rapist as a tough hand on the locals. Or threatens a crowd including women - one whore, that old bitch of a cook and some skinny drunken stranger, sure, but still women from his town - with flesh-eating acid when they object.
"..."

His frame seems to relax a little at the news that the town's got deadders again, however. For a moment he'd thought it was something worse (memory flashes a frame: sinew and skeleton, rising, earth-stained tatters of blue dress, teeth. Firing a gun until there was nothing left whilst inside was still screaming mother mother mother; surpressed). He nods like one who's already heard, then jerks his head towards Underhill's where Nate's mostly-headless corpse resided. There was a reason he'd done that. So long as it didn't spread to the stock...

Carl jumps quietly for a bit as Evans proposes truce, seriously considering all he says. He stops dead, however, at the offer of payment to work for the law - or rather, for Evans - and spits with startling accuracy between the marshal's boots. Teeth bared, a fierce stare from eyes that seem to have no colour at all in this grey light, there is no way one could mistake this one for a dog.

Evans sighs. "Look. Before you reject the offer out of hand, I want you to give it some serious consideration. I'm offering you a chance to legitimize your control of town. The chance to speak your piece--or not--concerning how the law is applied. The chance to have the legal authority to shoot at those assassins who tried to murder someone and get your friends blamed for it. The chance to be able to keep an eye on what we're doing, if nothing else, than so that you get that extra bit of warning should things turn monumentally sour."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "For what it's worth, I wasn't aware of Charging Bear's criminal history when I made him the offer to work for me. I hired him on the strength of him having dealt with a deadder threatening the peace, and for having a dispatched another one just outside the town limits. And I do not for one minute believe that bounty hunter's story...I've known too many others like him who'd trump up a charge just to get the local blood boiling. however, now that he's under his arrest, he'll get his day in court, just like anyone else. If he's innocent, he'll have the chance to prove it. If not, then...then he'll have to face his fate. But remember that in this land a person in innocent until it's found he's guilty, not the other way around. How would you feel if you'd hung him, and then found out that it was a different Indian who had done that awful crime? And was therefore free to do it again, just because you let your temper get the better of you?"

"So again, I say this: if you want to protect the people of this town, I'm all for that. If you want to protect it from me, even, by diffusing any brewing problems before they boil over like that again, I'm willing to work with you. Let's work together. But we can't be at each other's throats, or else there's going to be more gunplay in the streets, and another little boy will lose their father and have to grow up wondering why. For the sake of the town, please...will you work with us?"

Carl gives Evans a long, cold stare, as though watching him will draw out what's lies and what's the truth. He doesn't seem to care about legal authority. There's a twitch of a snarl at the reminder of the country's law and appeal to what conscience he has, and if anything a colder look at the suggestion a badge would be more use than a charge of buckshot in protecting his town from Evans. What worked on Frost would work on half the man.

The cowhand's angry, silent stillness makes one more aware of the rain sounding all around, the chill still carried in the spring damp. Carl looks towards the others and starts hopping again, doing as Evans wants - working with him, but not for him. Not that much.

Evans sighs and concedes defeat. Well, he tried.

"Well, let's get you inside and cleaned up, at least." he says, helping Carl along as best he can. The goo is beginning to dissolve in the rain, and walking becomes easier than hopping along.

They meet up with Wildcat and CB quickly, while Jerchio and Robert are still verbally sparring. He pays no attention to the reporter at the moment.

Charging Bear remains quiet, not wanting to give ANYONE cause to shoot him. Besides sometimes listening is the best thing to do.

The quiet Dust Adder shifts his weight to the balls of his feet and squares his shoulders almost unconsciously, readying to defend himself at need. There's no particular expression as he studies Charging Bear, though; neither remorse, fear, nor accusation, just trying to work him out.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #114):

Being noticed, by the Ranger no less, Eli limps carefully her way a bit.  A friendly, gun-respectful distance remains though.  At her tale, he whistles low, "Dynamite...  Gunfights...  You do have yerself a hell of a mess here, ma'am.  Y'all really take that One Riot, One Ranger stuff seriously...."  He casts a glance back to the Marshal and the quiet gang member, "Dust Adders eh?  That kinda name conjures up all manner of unkind images.  Kinda odd name for a buncha cowboys though...  Who says "adder" anyway?  Why not "rattler" or something?  Adder's just too darn biblical."

"One riot one ranger is as much a matter of necessity as it is informin' folks what to expect."  Wildcat informs the stranger.  "Now I ain't been here no time, but you stick out like a sore thumb mister.  Yer the first feller I done met here who's neither the law here nor particularly enamored with them snakes."

"I generally attempt to stay unaffiliated as much as possible," offers Elijah simply enough, though he reaches up to touch the brim of his hat polite-like, "Elijah Fuller's the name.  Just a too-curious bystander at the moment."  He then cocks a thumb over to the nearby Cantrell, "Rode in on the stage with him and have been enjoying this towns...er...."entertainment" since."

"Curious bystander fellers make mah job mighty difficult Mr. Fuller.  See to it ya ain't too curious an' ya don't stand by too much."

This situation was a disaster.  With all the relatively mundane problems in Blackthorn, which were impossible to solve, the more serious, unconventional problems couldn't be addressed at all.

Robert's story about ghost rock fever could only go so far, rumors of the truth were inevitable at this point.  This recent stage coach just brought a whole passle of trouble.  Cantrell was the kind of trouble that, despite its danger and tenacity, Wildcat could deal with.  It was direct, sinister, and clear.  He was the kind of trouble you could probably shoot, sooner or later.

Fuller was a different kind of trouble.  He seemed like a half decent person who Wildcat could probably cotton to otherwise, but he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  It was actually good that he preferred not to take sides here, because that was one less person privy to what was actually going on in this town.  But The fact he'd traveled in meant he'd travel out, and there was no telling what he'd say about the goings on here when he left.

And he would get sucked in despite his own self preservation instincts.  Somehow.  Blackthorn wasn't that big.  The barber had gotten sucked into it.  That boy had to.  Part of her wanted to tell him to just get out of here for his own sake.

But that wouldn't do.  It'd make things worse.  Suppose he did exactly that and told everyone it was so bad here that the ranger told him to leave for his own safety.  What kind of message was that, that the voice of the Confederacy itself admitted there could be no law or order here?  Kat didn't believe that, couldn't believe that.  And suppose even worse it had the opposite effect, like he'd think she was hiding something, which she was, even if it was for a benign reason.

This Fuller character hadn't said very much, but he'd sure given her lots to think about.  The idea of looking at this town through his eyes as the actions of the actors within it jogged her thoughts.

What was her goal here?  To re-establish public safety.  She'd told that boy she could show him a way to get revenge, and she'd meant it.  Katrina had spent years, her best years, putting her mind to work thinking about how to get revenge when her own pa was shot.

The thing about living for revenge though is it consumes you from the inside.  It burns you up inside, everything that's good about you fuels the flame to burn brightly.  Eventually you either give it up and let the flame die, or there's nothing good left in you and you're hollow and gutted, left with only the bitter ashes of the flame of hatred and passion.  Katrina had resigned herself to that, you either betrayed yourself or consumed yourself in the end.  But she wasn't there yet.  That flame burned her up inside, but it also illuminated her path and showed her things she couldn't see otherwise.

Evans had arrested the very Dust Adder who'd seen fit to promise to kill her.  He was surely as vile and evil a man as they came, but he at least spoke plainly.  She believed the time was coming that they would fight, but at the same time he was a little different than the other one, the loud angry one.  She would ask him something later, if she got the chance.

A look back and a brief headshake tells the Dust Adders - mostly those Carl knows are lurking about - it's all right. He'll get back on his own, no need to spring him. He really hopes someone'll think to take Hoss in out of the rain.

Carl notes the Ranger's glance and wonders what she sees. Some dirt-crawling thing, most like. Ah well. Pity she'd learn her lesson too late: sometimes the little critter that wound close to the soil was a dust adder. Still going to kill you, his outwardly calm stare says. Chains or no. You don't tread on me.

The silent man spares the stranger a glance, noting the game leg and allowing a moment of speculation before going back to watching Charging Bear.

"And I'd love to oblige in those regards, Ranger Hawkins," offers Elijah with a placating hand and a smile, "But, as I do have information important to the defense of your former deputy's case, it's my duty as a citizen of the great State of Texas to stand as a witness."  With a soft, apologetic shrug, he adds, "But, as I overheard, you're without reliable judgeship and so his case might jest be long in comin' to trial...."  He trails off meaningfully, shifting the position of his cane a bit.

Charging Bear kept looking at the ground, as if trying to will the earth to swallow him up. Occasionally he looks up, probably to make sure he isn't going to walk into anything more than caring about where he was going. There are still tears in the native son's eyes but to the unobservant they might look like stray droplet of rain.

In reply to Elijah Fuller (msg #127):

"That's yer call Mr. Fuller.  You got to do what you think you got to do like everyone else on God's earth."

OOC:  Dang, here I was hoping to steer Charging Bear into a post or something. XD

"Your offer to stand as a witness is appreciated, sir," Evans says as he leads Carl up to the group, "but until such a time as you are called to stand witness and testify on this mess, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to depart our immediate vicinity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pair of prisoners to deposit in proper confinement. Although, if you are interested in getting in our good graces, I would be much obliged if you were to divert the attention of yon bounty hunter somewhere where he won't be stirring up any more lynch mobs."

He looks at Wildcat. "Miss Hawkins, please continue escorting Mr. Bear to our holding facilities. I wish to get our of this damnable weather as quickly as humanly possible."

Wildcat had noticed some weren't to dress for the job properly, another reminder she wasn't dealing with career law men.  Her hat and duster served as a kind of armor against the misery.  But professionally, not gently or forcefully but professionally, she spurred Charging Bear on at Evans' bequest.

Charging Bear glances over at Evans, "Perhaps a heavier coat like an oilskin duster might do the trick, Marshal. I'm sure you could find something suitable over at the General Store." His words aren't hateful, spiteful or the like, more of a statement of fact. He looks back to the dirt at his feet as Wildkitten pushes him onward.

Evans shrugs. He is, after all, wearing a greatcoat at the moment. "Coats only help so much. No one likes being drenched in such an infernal downpour, coat or not. And I swear it's unseasonably cold, too...I half expect it to start snowing at this rate."

Charging Bear can feel the chill, as well...but it's not a chill from the storm. Not entirely, anyway. It's beginning to feel a lot like the chill he felt when he crossed over onto Ward's property, like the land was slowly sickening, and a great many eyes were watching him from the shadows...

Charging Bear didn't look up or even at Evans as the man finished speaking, he just begans to talk, "No, Marshal it won't snow...  I felt this chill on my way to Ward's home, it is what happens when the land and spirits are rebelling, or so my grandfather said to me when I was young, and things will only get worse. There is much here that should not be.

With bandits threatening and even blowing up parts of the town, The people have been living in fear but now it is not just because of the Dust Adders... not any more. The dead have risen and walked through town spouting prophecy. What are the towns people to think? Soon the spirits will take physical form and run rampant in the streets.

The snake and eagle will fight, and this town won't survive. Even if it does physically, people won't stay here. This will become a ghost town; a place that you'll read about in The Tombstone Epitaph I imagine."

OOC: Sorry for the monologuing, but Charging Bear is in a bad place mentally and physically.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:58, Mon 15 Nov 2010.

Come, and let us go over unto the garrison of these uncircumcised: it may be that the Lord will work for us: for there is no restraint to the Lord to save by many or by few.

Wildcat thought to herself, moving on down the street.  She wouldn't say much for now, it was an attempt to look professional, normal.

As normal as locking someone in an abandoned vault was going to be anyway.

Carl gives a bemused twist of a smile. The injun hadn't seen nothin' yet.

Personally he'd quite like his hat (in the goop), duster (on a chairback in the Grand Bull), any additional clothing and/or a hot meal...and a small palace, fifty Spanish horses and some beautiful Mexican maidservants...no point in going halves when you're wishing. He'll go wherever he's led peaceably enough, though if Evans just leaves him cuffed and standing there he'll wander off to find his horse.

Evans frowns at Charging Bear's pronouncement, but opts not to make a comment. He continues ushering Carl up the street, hoping Wildcat and Charging Bear keep up.

The Miner's Association building is a large, two-story brick box, stuccoed over. The windows on the ground floor have uninviting bars on them as a warning to any who might try to break in and get at the vault where the ore was once stored. Evans ignores the front doors, and leads his procession down an alley to the back instead. Carl remembers this place well...he was here earlier hunting for the man with the bad fashion sense and huge gun. Evans pushes the back door open, which isn't difficult because it looks like it was kicked in.

"We're going to need to get that repaired if we want to use this long term," he mutters to Wildcat. "I saw this damage when I was checking out Miss Lucy's place. I'm guessing that your would-be killer used this place to hide after he took his shots at you." A thought occurs to him. "Damn. He might still be here, for all we know. Keep your guard up."

Robert nods.  "Thank you sir, for confirming that you care nothing for the law, or for justice, but only for your own skin, and your own vengence.  I have the courage to stand up for my convictions, you clearly do not."

Robert spins on his heal and strides over to Evans.  "Marshal, I have some... errands to run, after which I will take my repast at the Bull.  I hope to see you there.  Good day." With a formal tip of his hat, Robert stomps off, heading for the Undertaker.

[Private to GM: I've decided, since he's getting thirsty, to play Robert as a bit irritated / irritable]


OOC: yup, I called him a coward

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #138):

"I don't care for your tone, sir." He says. "I learned the hard way that Justice and the Law ain't always friends." he might have said more, but then Robert turned away and began walking the opposite direction. "Good day, Sir." he calls out. "Micklethwait, was it? I'll be sure to remember that name, you can guarantee that."

He then turns and follows behind Evans & Company, tailing them all the way to the mining office.

Robert arrives at the undertaker's place, but the only person there is Roland, the barkeep from the Grand Bull, standing silently over one of the three coffins. He briefly glances up at Robert, but then turns his attention back to the coffin.

Robert asks politly, "I appologize for intruding on a private moment, but is the undertaker to be found?"

Roland shakes his head.

"I have not seen him. I do not know where he may be."

He falls silent for a moment, before speaking again.

"This was a bad end."

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #137):

"You dunna have to tell me twi'xt.  But one of us is going to have to clear this building.  I do reckon that's gonna be me."

Wildcat readies her Colt.

"But ah would suggest Marshall that ya place Deputy Bear here against the wall an tell him not to separate his nose from it, and keep yer man there covered, in in th' case of that crazy contraption of yers, smothered and covered.  They showed one thing fer sure today, they don't like to fight unless it's on their terms.  I got no idea how they set that up like that, but once they seen it were a bust, they ran like cowards.  If'n he's in there, he's either got a booby trap set up, or he'll come running out like a bat out of hell."

Robert opens his mouth, then closes it.  He takes a breath, and bentrues, "With all that has happened recently, I forgot he was your brother. From what I've seen, there aren't to many good ends."  With a bow, Robert leaves, jamming his soaked hat back on his head.  to the devil with it.  A drink and a steak will set me to rights.
He heads back for the Grand Bull.

OOC: If I happen to pass a barber, I seem to recall they often did first aid.  Otherwise, a warm meal and something to drink

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #137):

Charging Bear shifts as though trying to ready for what is obviously going to be fight in the Miner's Association building but stops after a single try. The native son hangs his head as though recalling his situation.

Carl slowed a bit as they passed in sight of his roan, silently cursing that there's no chance to get her just that little bit down the street and indoors. Poor Hoss. She didn't know what was going on...that he'd acted in pure rage, messed up so bad he couldn't go to her.

The Dust Adder squeezes his eyes shut a moment, throat tight and an almost physical pain spreading in his chest. Evans ushers him on. He walks. Nate was dead, Charlie was dead, Luke was dead and burnt. Jesse was...gone, like a splintered hole in the heart. ...and his horse was left tied out in the rain and she didn't know why, and for some reason that made him want to cry most of all.

Evans speaking is the next thing he notices; he nudges Evans for attention and shakes his head, nodding in the direction the assassin went. That's the way the killer went, whoever - or whatever - else might've holed up in there since.

13:56, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 1,3 using d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. notice the horse?.

The answer is no, there's no chance in hell Wildcat notices the horse.  Blind as usual. :D

Hearing the slowing of steps behind him, Charging Bear glances over his shoulder at Evans and Carl. Noting Carl's almost longing gaze, Charging Bear looks to find its source. Seeing the horse, he notes it likely to be the object which caused such a stirring of emotion in the other man.

OOC: 15:33, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. Notice.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:39, Mon 15 Nov 2010.

Roland nods. "It was not unexpected. But it is still...I do not know." he continues talking, and it's not clear if he's actually speaking to Robert or simply trying to put words to an internal turmoil. "Nathanial was driven by greed, by envy, by wrath. I knew he would come to an end such as this, or by the gallows, but for it to actually come...it is difficult to express. We quarreled often. He envied me because our uncle favored me, made me part owner of the Grand Bull, while he had been disowned for his disreputable behavior. After last night, I do beleive he was attempting to kill me, or at least destroy my livelihood. But...but he was my brother. Aside from my sister and my uncle, he was the only family I have. And now he is gone, and I am...conflicted. I feel so much at once that it is too much, and I am made hollow."

He says nothing more as Robert takes his leave. He may not have even noticed.

The barbershop is across the street, but there is a "closed" sign in the window, odd for this time of day until one remembers that there was a shootout in this spot just an hour ago. The barber has probably gone to find a good, stiff drink somewhere.

The mood at the Grand Bull is somber. The piano is silent, and most of the current residents glare at Robert as he enters. There is a definite sense that he's unwelcome among the crowd. Many are still picking bits of glue out of their clothes or hair.

The person tending bar, a great fat man in a greasy apron that Robert hasn't met before, is talking to a dapper gentleman in a gray suit. He points in Robert's direction.

"I done believe that be him riaght der, sir." he says to the suit. "Talk about ya good timin'."

"I see. Thank you." The gentleman says, tipping his hat to the fat man. He turns and heads right in Robert's direction. he meets Robert halfway. "Mr. Robert Micklethwait, I presume?"

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #142):

Evans nods at Wildcat, motioning his charges to move against the wall. He takes notice of Carl's gesture of negation.

"I see. Well, it never hurts to be cautious. They may have doubled back once they shook their pursuers."

He follows the gazes of people , but he misses the sight of a horse all alone in the rain, as the less pleasant sight of Jericho Cantrell appears.

"Well, well. Some jail you have here, Marshal." He says in a conversational tone.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Evans growls.

"My duty, seeing that the prisoner there doesn't give you the slip. We wouldn't want to have to chase him down, now, would we?"

"Oh what a shame that would be." Evans mutters. "I don't suppose anything I say will get you to move along, will it?"

"Not likely. I have an investment to protect, after all." Jericho chuckles. "And besides, I'm enjoying the sight of this here redskin in chains. I find the justice of it poetic."

Elijah quirked a brow at the Marshal's "suggestion."  Nope... I got a scent and I ain't to be shaken that easy  With a winning smile, Eli offers a nod, "I am at your disposal Marshal."  Another nod, respectful, is offered to the Ranger.  He then looks over to Cantrell.  He ain't gonna leave it alone either...  He's a hunter through and through  "In fact, Mr. Cantrell and I are already aquainted..." He trails off as the group heads to the jail and follows along after.  Though he stays nearer to Cantrell, as asked by the Marshal.  It isn't till they make it to the "jail" and the Marshal notices they are still following that Eli makes the token effort to distract.  Stepping up behind Cantrel, he inquires, "Well, there's always the other folks you're trackin'...  This one looks like he's not really goin' anywhere for the moment.  Quite easy to find."

As someone who's served a jailer before, Wildcat speaks up to Cantrell.

"Leg irons and access'ry chains are only used on suspects or prisoners bein' escorted via train, coach or other such convey'nce and even then only when the prisoner is being escorted across state lines or has been convicted of murder or multiple counts of assault."  Wildcat tells Cantrell, spelling it out by the book.  "Hack vigilantes and recree-ash-unahl users who don't know how to use our equipment properly typically over restrain, causing all sorts of health problems.  Now we may have to be creative here and run a chain between two of these bars and lock them to it, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.  On top of all that I simply need my handcuffs back, there probably ain't another set in town, and they are a tool I use in the course of my duties."

OOC:  Imagine a female Tommy Lee Jones a la Men in Black conveying this. XD

"Anyway Cantrell I'm actually glad yer here.  I want yer rear end to sit up here all night and watch 'im with me.  It appears our deputies are all either incarcerated or injured, and th' Marshall here, well he's got to be the Marshall, he can't sit here and play jailer and tiddly winks with me all night.  Gettin' free work out of you normally reserved for greenhorn deputies would please me to no end.

"Marshall, if'n ya don't mind, if ah don't die clearing this buildin', which is a distinct poss'bility in this town, ah ask ya give me a bit to see to mah horse an' grab a few provisions an 'check back with th' telegraph office.  After that I'll mind 'em both."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:54, Tue 16 Nov 2010.

Evans gives Wildcat a look that screams are you sure about this?, then shrugs and decides it's for the best. He needed time to repair his gyromounted pistol, and he also had an idea for something else that would probably prove useful in the long run.

"Very well, Mr. Cantrell. You can stay and help Miss Hawkins watch over our guests. Two things--you must help her scout the building out, and, once that is done, you must surrender your weapons to her while you are on watch. Is that acceptable?"

Cantrell draws one of his pistols, a LeMat modified to replace the shotgun barrel with a bayonet. "If that's how it must be, then that's how it must be. Come, Miss Hawkins. Let's see what awaits us within." he turns to Fuller. "You're free to come with us, if you're interested in a story. My other bounties can wait for the time being. They aren't as dangerous or as criminal-minded as Charging Bear here is."

Evans narrows his eyes at Fuller. "You're a reporter?" he asks, the way someone might ask "You have syphilis?"

Carl gives Cantrell a mildly querying look - if the man wants information or a suspect delivered tonight, he'll have to let him go - then returns to looking across at CB. Well, if you had a murderer on hand...what kind of murderer, though? Carl's jaw clenches, remembering quite how easily he was downed and held. He imagines a woman, briefly, in his place (Carl has never broken a woman's bones, but he's lifted Todd's youngest sister up to play in the hayloft because she was frit of the ladder and so imagines bones like hers, scarcely hardier than a bird's) and shudders at where his thoughts will not go.

Katy was hiding throug the event, but she heard the match of Cantrell and Miss Hawkins contesting some book and confrontational things. The civil dispute bored the blood thristy mob, making them disperse. Charging bear got placed under arrest and it was certaintly better then him gentting killed, but why did the Ranger and the big man have to talk so much over it. It wasn't there fight now that he was safe and it wasn't the ranger's choice, but a lot of there fellows are  had some manner of pride, they couldn't let anything, no matter how small, go.

Seemed the ranger didn't like anyone showing her up and wanted everything her way. Reminded her of her spoiled, girly cousin, Maryanna. She watched un the shelter of  A overlapped roof until it was safe enough to tread up. using her beg a bit as an umbrella, she crossed the way to the Grand bull Sallon with a great sigh.

It was so nice and warm inside, it bit her skin and hurt a little. " My goodness.. All that just to get a cup of tea...Roland, sir.." She murmured aloud, taking a seat on a stool, soaking wet, chilled to the bone, and pretty yet so pallid. " Please, some tea and honey.. And leave the kettle. "

The fat man tending bar looks up. "er...I ain't Rolan', ma'am. He not here righ' naow...dealin' wit a death in de fambly. But I can sho get ya some tea." he lowers his voice. "Noaw, ma'am, I don' wanna alarm ya none...but there were a bounty hunter in here tackin' up posters, and yo face is on one o' them. So you might wanna get yo tea and head upstairs before someone here notices ya..."

At the thick cajun voice, her hand moves over her face to press back the darken wet hair away, looking to a portly man. Oh! He wasn't Roland at all. She blinked for a moment and then the man lowers his voice and it causes  the girl's brow to furrow. A Bounty Hunter? Cantell was that fellow, wasn't he? The huge new fellow, she hadn't seen anyone like that earlier, it had to be him. She looked around the bar with bewilderment.

" Me? What in the summer blossoms could anyone possibly warrent me for?." Katy spoke with disbelief until spotting the poster. She moved over, from her seat, with the most blank expression one could see. Ripping it off the wall, she seemed to glow a slight color of red.

" That lecherous fiend! That evil, lying, no-good, perverted, cake eater! How dare he. The nerve, the absolute nerve. Never. Not if I lived to be a thousand years old and lonesome for every day would I ever marry someone, let alone this liar! My goodness!" Came the cutest little tantrum one could see as she crumbled the ball into the tinest, tightest wad she could, dropping it on the floor and starting to stomp on it with her foot before giving it a kick to boot. " That was a lie! I big lie! I have no husband, i'm not married to anyone. I don't even drink or gamble for goodness sakes! People couldn't believe something like that, could they?"

In reply to Katy Devon (msg #156):

"I don' know nuthin' about that. I jus' know the things says reward paid for yo return." he looks nervously around the room. all eyes are on them. "And, uh, your voice be carrin' some..."

And some of the Dust Adders are standing up. One, a young man of about 17, points at her. "Hey...I know you! You're the one who shot Charlie, not that Ranger!"

There's suddenly a rush of clicks as half a dozen holster buttons are snapped open...
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:15, Tue 16 Nov 2010.

 Katy was oblivious to the men in the room until Ed tried to quiet her down. In her excitement of this horrendous slander of being branded a run away wife, one of the fellows at a table hopped up and yelled about something.. And there were a lot of clicks that happened right up. Now, in a scene like this, normally someone would come in and comically warn her of this folly. Not only was that bounty hunter possibly after her, but so were several cowboys with grim looks over the incidental death of a man that shot up Mister Roberts.

However, Devons will not be very lucky. Not lucky at all. Now, another scene from her dime novels could send her with a cocky grin and firing off a shot before making a daring leap out the door or window in a fantastic escape. Yet stoic look around the room rendered that very unlikely as the place already looked like hell. Poor Roland..

She looked back to her accuser and slowly pointed a finger to herself cluelessly. Well, the last act in dime Novels is a heroine swooning in the face of danger. it at least puts a pause to everything, but more often used during a time of a needed distraction or over the heroic figure. Well. She could swoon, but she felt too grounded.

" M-m.. Me..?"

Smart Trick: 5
This message was last edited by the player at 10:36, Tue 16 Nov 2010.

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #152):

"All th' better to set the record straight fer Chargin' Bear then."  Wildcat looked at Evans.  She didn't like that at all either.  But if there had to be a reporter in town, by God it was better he be concerned with this matter than... others.

It was the same for Cantrell.  Wildcat was not looking forward to the enchanted evening that lay ahead with a Dust Adder and this character, and an Indian she just couldn't be sure about right now.  She just had to be emotionally detached right now.  If he were innocent, he'd appreciate not being mishandled by the law.  If he were guilty, she'd have done the right thing the right way.

"Let's do this.  Sooner it's done, sooner I can get them other things squared away, sooner you can see 'bout yer other business, Marshall."

The big man draws both his guns and takes up a position right by the slightly open door. "Ladies first." He says with mock politeness.

Being as this is supposed to be the new jail and there's a small possibility she might break the door if she kicked it open like usual, Wildcat instead pushes it open quickly, not not with excessive force, and fades back, staring down the barrel of the Single Action Army.

As she becomes more and more sure there's nothing there, she presses forward, systematically checking each new room or chamber.  She's also curious to see if Cantrell knows how to do this properly or not, or if he even participates.

'The first man goes in and finds all the blind corners.  As soon as you come to the first one, you angle out, like this.'  Armstrong continued.  'Stairwells, hallways, these are death traps, so watch out.  Once one corner is cleared, the first man takes that position and covers it, and the second man moves to the next blind corner, and you switch off until it's done.'

'Did they teach you that in the war Mr. Armstrong?'  had asked a much more juvenile sounding blond headed girl, whose locks were growing back in.

Armstrong had laughed.  'No, there's not much call for that in the cavalry.  I picked this up from an old sheriff.  The army will teach you how to fight a war on an open battlefield, only law men can be bothered with stuff like this.  They're both important things to know, but army's not really an option for you now is it?'

Charging Bear chuckled at Cantrell's accusations, "Oh yes... dangerous me who yesterday pulled a kitten off a roof for a little girl." The native son shook his head.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #161):

The bounty hunter doesn't respond to Charging Bear's baiting attempt.

Jericho follows behind as Wildcat starts her inspection. To his credit, he does, in fact, know how to clear a room and cover a position.

The building has a hollowed-out feel to it. Most of the furniture has been removed, probably sold off when the offices were first closed. the only things left behind were those too large or to heavy to be conveniently moved...a desk here, an empty, gaping safe there.

They reach the front lobby without incident. Apparently this place was once a bank before it was a miner's association, judging by the empty row of bar-lined teller booths. The lobby also has a flight of stairs leading upwards to the second floor, though the actual vault is further inside the structure.

"Well, this is just like old times." Jericho mutters with a grin. "Me and John Armstrong did this a time or two."

Wildcat snapped out of her reverie.  That's a name that came up in her thoughts a lot, but it wasn't not one spoken aloud very often.

Her heart sank.  This couldn't be right.  But her mother, who hinted at a belief in predestination at times, had always told her there was no such thing as a coincidence.  While Wildcat was more inclined to believe each man makes his own fate, the truth of there being no coincidences had stayed with her.

It would explain a lot.  A whole lot.  But there was a loss of innocence in the moment.

Lieutenant Armstrong had been Buster Hawkins' closest comrade.  It was Armstrong who had raged at the Captain when orders to hunt Hardin down like a dog were not forthcoming.  It was Armstrong who had pulled her out of that mess in Nacogdoches.  He'd made that wild and angry girl who'd run away from the altar into who she was now.  Hell, he'd even started the Wildcat moniker itself with his constant berating.

He'd been beyond reproach before, the closest thing Kat had found to a father since she lost hers.  It was like founding out your mother wasn't always right about everything, a terrible watershed moment in life.

She hadn't seen him in years.  Armstrong was a busy man with his own life; last they'd parted ways, Katrina had begged him not to go.  He'd left by saying 'If you ever don't know what to do, do what your daddy would have done'.  But what if I don't know what he would have done?, she'd asked.  Girl, that's the only thing you know and that ain't a bad thing.

She hadn't seen him since.

"Lieutenant John Barclay Armstrong?"

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #164):

"The very same. Good man. One of the best I've ever known, really. We chased down John Hardin together a few months back after he got a tip-off that the bastard was heading to Pensacola, Florida. This bible I carry? That was one of Hardin's 'souvenirs'. Lt. Armstrong himself was the one who told me I could keep it." He gets a far-off, wistful look. "Hell of a man. Only man I know who was willing to look past the color of my skin and that Galveston incident. I've been called a lot of ugly things in my day, some of them true, most of them ain't. Never heard any of them from his lips."

Running through the options, there's not much Carl can do at present. Nothing useful, anyway. He doesn't want to think too hard, because he's stopped, and he knows he's stopped, and somewhere deep down that feels like the end of the world.

Carl stands and shivers, and eventually starts whistling Dixie to pass the time.

When he passed the closed barbershop, Robert cursed under his breath.  The weather had put him in a foul mood.

When he enters, he heads for the bar and ...

OOC: is Katy's standoff already resovled?

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #167):

[[OOC: Not even a little bit.]]

... and sees a number of people staring at Katy.  He responds distractedly to the stranger.  "You have me at a disadvantage, sir."

OOC: in other words, yes, but who are  you?

"Fletcher. David Fletcher. I was sent from Austin because you requested assistance with certain hot legal issues..." the dapper man stops speaking as the half-dozen Dust Adders begin to circle ominously around Katy.

"You don't get to get away with murderin' a friend, girl." One of them mutters.

"Wait a minute, Frank." Another says. "Weren't it that Ranger lady?"

"Yeah, you sure about that, Percy?"

"Sure as I'm sitting here. I remember her face, the gun in her hand. She shot him in the back!"

"What shall we do with her, Dave?"

"I ain't for sure yet..."

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #165):

"Wait?  Hardin was in Pensacola!?"  Wildcat practically bolted in place at the announcement.  "What were you doing there?  With him?  What happened to Hardin!?"

And then she realized she forgot what they were doing, and proceeded to resume, but she wasn't quite in it.

In reply to The Stray (msg #170):

"A moment, Mr. Fletcher.  Our business may have to wait."  Raising his voice, he says, "Here is an example, Mr. Fletcher, of bravery.  Six men threaten one young girl just off the stage.  Your mamma's must be proud."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #171):

"Yup." He says, beginning what is obviously a favorite story for him. "In fact, I was especially recruited to help hunt him down, on account of some other jobs I'd done in conjunction with the Rangers in the past. I managed to track him down to Alabama. Managed to get ahold of a letter that I rerouted to Armstrong that blew his alias open, and we ambushed him on the train at the border." He chuckled. "Hardin never knew what hit him. He got his gun tangled in his goddamn suspenders and tried to brawl it out, but Armstrong gave him a nice shiny Earp upside his head. He's rotting in a Huntsville jail right now, doing to 25 to life, and I got to collect a nice slice of that $4000 on his head."

[[OOC: Jericho is taking over the role of real life Texas Ranger Jack Duncan in this scenario, in case you're curious.]]

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #172):

"You lookin' to get another faceful of shot, Deputy?" Dave growls, turning his attention to him. "This ain't none of your affair. Unless you want to pull out some cuffs and haul her off to wherever that tinhorn Marshal took Carl. Or does the law only work when it's against us hard-workin' folk? This bitch murdered Charlie Landers in cold blood! Drilled him in the back! And she ought to be punished for it." His eyes narrowed. "So unless you got the guts to do what needs to be done, I suggest you fuck off."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:07, Tue 16 Nov 2010.

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #173):

The news floors Wildcat and just knocks her on her backside, figuratively, but damn near literally.

"Oh God..."  Dammit don't cry in front of him, damn you to hell Katrina, don't you cry in front of him!  Whether she does or not, Wildcat is visibly shaken to her very core.

It all made sense now.  As disillusioned as she was, it made perfect sense.  The whole thing made perfect sense.  Armstrong had wanted to slap the irons on Hardin every bit as much as she had.  He had lost her daddy too.

The whole thing had been a setup.  Armstrong was as clever and smart as he was decent and forthright.  He'd gotten her into this position so he could go hunt the son of a bitch down without worrying about her.  That's why he'd left when he did.

It all made sense.

Was it all a lie?  Was the only reason she was here... a lie?  An elaborate ruse to do what needed to be done?  Was everything she'd been doing for the past few years just to buy Armstrong time?  Was this fool's errand just the garnish for this dish of deceit?

And from somewhere deep inside, a voice answered no.  It sounded like her pa...

Her winding up in Blackthorn likely hadn't been part of the plan.  Armstrong could pull strings, but he couldn't possibly have been so masterful as to insure this. For God's sake girl, if he was that smart, Cantrell wouldn't be here telling you this.

And even if it was, what may have been true back then, wasn't true now.  Maybe Armstrong had turned a blind eye to this man's character in the name of revenge.  It was fathomable.  But this was a sacred brotherhood, no one was invited into it, even if they were just on its periphery as she was, unless it's where they deserved to be.

But even with that internal crisis resolved so quickly, Wildcat is still visibly shaken.  Kat... could live with Armstrong catching him, celebrate it in time even, even if this puke was involved.  "Does mom know?"  The question wasn't even meant to me asked aloud, but there it was and she didn't really care at the moment.

Closure had come to one Katrina Hawkins, and it hit her like a ton of bricks.

"The law is my affair.  It applies to everyone, even if they wear a badge. You say your friend was shot in the back by Deputy Devon.  Or was it the Ranger who shot her?  And where and when did this alleged shooting take place?  Where is the body?" Robert asks.  "And how exactly are you aware of the source of my injuries?"

Robert watches the man closely to see his reactions and to test the veracity of his responses.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Tue 16 Nov 2010.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #175):

Jericho watches her reaction, confused...then it hits him. "Oh. Yeah. You're Buster Hawkins' girl..." his previous cheer fades, and his voice softens. "I thought you'd have heard the news already. It was in lots of papers. That's why you joined the Rangers, isn't it? So you could get him for killing your dad." he sighs. "...damn."

He rests a comforting hand on her shoulder.

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #176):

"That's what I thought. You don't care about us...you just tryin' to twist my words and lord over us like some fucking Yankee politician. You know all this shit. You were there. That you ain't arrested her of your own accord means you're just another corrupt tinhorn what likes to play favorites. Why you protectin' her, deputy? Did she give you a nice blowjob? Get all them creaky old parts downstairs oiled again? Hell, you could be her grandfather, you pervert."

Robert ignores his insults and focuses on the facts.

"So this happened the last night.  When a bunch of cowards rode into town wearing masks, throwing dynomite and trying to murder the marshal.  If Charlie Landers got shot and killed, well, that's what happens to murdering scum who try to blow up, hell, " Robert laughs, "blow up this very room." Robert shakes his head slowly.  "What kind of an idiot... you think the law should arrest her, who was only defending herself against masked men who came in the night to do harm?

"This is how the law works.  You break it, you suffer the consequences.  How about his, if you don't want to get shot, don't try to murder and blow up people.  How does that sound?"

Wildcat forgets to be indignant for a moment.  "You know a lot Mr. Cantrell but sometimes you don't understand."  It wasn't like before.  She wasn't brow beating him.  This was a soft tone.

"Sure I wanted to get 'im, in the back of my mind, the thought was always there.  But that, that wasn't going to be my revenge.

"When Hardin kilt 'im, he didn't just kill a man.  He kilt a daddy, a brother, an uncle, a horse trainer, a musician, an officer of the law, a deacon at the church, a friend, and the anonymous stranger who left mysterious cuts of smoked meat on the Lister widow's doorstep because she were too poor to afford it and too proud to ask, to the very day she died.

"Gone, Cantrell.  All gone.  And the man pa was tryin' to protect, he was a decent man too.  Men like Hardin, they're all the same, willing to destroy all that just to show it's in their nature.  All part of a greater evil that's bigger than any man, or all men.  They thought they'd snuffed out one more light in the darkness.  But I won't let that happen.

"And if some day, I stop just one of 'em... just one, it'll all be worth it."

At Evans disgusted question, Elijah just maintains his friendly smile, answering, "You could use wordsmith if you prefer.  Or Historian of the Present.  Chronicler of the Here and Now.  But, reporter will do.  Hell, I've been called worse.  Much worse."  With a nod, he glances back to Cantrell, "Why thank you, sir, I think I would like to follow along and listen in."  He brushes back his coat and withdraws his own large Colt Army as everyone else seems to be armed, "Perhaps I can even be of assistance.  Once a soldier, always a soldier."  The Marshal ain't too keen on reporters.  To be fair most folks ain't. But especially folks with things to hide.  Like, perhaps, a town run wild..  Wonder what else these lawdogs are hiding.   He is happy to leave Cantrell and Wildcat to initiate the search.  Slowed by his leg, he will try to assist in said search as best and as capably as he is able.  He seems to have had some military training and stays out of the way.  Near enough to support (and overhear).

Unless of course he's detained by the Marshal....

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #179):

"Why you son of a whore!" Dave snarls.

"Dave!" The kid shouts. "Don't!"

But it's too late. The meaty man's fist rears back, then whips like a rattler striking for a meal, driving deep into the old lawyer's gut, driving him back a few steps.

"Where the fuck do you get off, comin' into town, tryin' to tell us how to live, what to do? You ain't a citizen here! This ain't your home! And we're gonna show you what we do to them who don't belong trying to lord over us!"

[[OOC: Dave sucker punches Robert, and combat begins.

Mighty Dave rolled 4,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,2. Sucker Punch! not enough to hit Robert, so he spends a Red Chip for a bonus.

Mighty Dave rolled 2 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2. red chip. That's enough to hit.

Mighty Dave rolled 3 using 1d8, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Damage. not enough damage to make Robert shaken (just).]]

---

Initiative:
Mighty Dave: RJ!
The Dust Adders: Jack of Diamonds
Robert Micklethwait: 8 Diamonds
Katy Devon: 7 Hearts

---

[[OOC: And since all the bad buys go first...]]

Dave follows up his speech with a flurry of blows like a crazy person, trying to pound the deputy to pulp. After the first blow, Robert is able to get his bearings and defend himself, warding off the thug's meaty fists as best he can.

[[OOC: Mighty Dave rolled 3,5 using d6+2,d6+2. Fighting! Clear miss, even with the Joker bonus.]]

The other Dust Adders aren't content to let thing lie, however. Two of them leap at the old man. One lifts him into the air and suplexes him through the poker table, sending cards and coins flying into the air. The other doesn't hold back while Robert is on the ground, kicking him hard in the stomach, driving the wind from him.

Another Dust Adder grabs Katy, wrenching her arm painfully behind her back while his own arm wraps around her neck in a chokehold. Another grabs her legs, lifting her into the air.

Only the kid refrains from jumping in. "No! Please! Stop it! What are you guys doing!?"

[[OOC: Two Dust Adders attack Robert, two grab Katy, one holds his action.

Vs. Robert: The two Dust Adders get a +2 Gang Up bonus, thanks to Mighty Dave also being there.

The Dust Adders rolled 6,6 using d6+2,d6+2. Fighting with Gang Up bonus. Both hit Robert's Parry dead on.

First Dust Adder:
The Dust Adders rolled 4 using 1d8. Damage.
The Dust Adders rolled 8 using 1d8. Damage. Reroll max wasn't checked for some reason. total of 12, so that's a Shaken and 2 Wounds for Robert, which he may attempt to soak.

Second Dust Adder:
The Dust Adders rolled 5 using 1d8, rerolling max. Damage. That's a Shaken, and 1 more Wound if Robert doesn't soak the other two.

Vs. Katy: Grabs all around. They only get a +1 gang-up bonus, but since Katy has no fighting, she's probably hosed anyway.

The Dust Adders rolled 2,12 using d6+1,d6+1, rerolling max. Fighting with Gang Up bonus. Yup, she's hosed.

Both get a hold of her, one of them gets a Raise, meaning that not only is she Grappled, she's also Shaken (and will need to deal with the Shaken before she can attempt to escape from either grab.

Robert, if you want to have some of the Townsfolk help out, the four poker players are well disposed towards you and are in a position to try and drag some of the Dust Adders away. They have Parry 4, Toughness 5, and Fighting d4. You can control them on your turn (and remember to draw an initiative card once you've gone)

Next round: The Dust Adders 9S, Mighty Dave 4S]]

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #180):

"Well, you caught the Cherokee, so there's that." Jericho says. "After what he done to that poor woman, not to mention the brutalization of another and a murder of one of his own kin before then, well, I reckon he was fixin' to maybe do it again, but you have him now, and we're gonna jail him. And, when he gets to court, he's gonna hang. So you've stopped one."

He sighs. "Now, he might talk about them prisoners I ordered killed like they was just helpless victims and all, but it wasn't like that. There were men in there, too, raiders who had killed and pillaged and scalped decent folk for their own pleasure. It was a war camp, them two dozen, movin' about the land like they owned it. You didn't see the trail of bodies they left behind them, lives they shattered just because they had a bee up their bonnet 'cause the treaty moved them out of lands they used to live in. We captured them around Galveston, and I had to make a choice. I could have some of them go, so they could aid and abet another band of bloodthirsty marauders, or I could have held them prisoner, and had them drain resources that should have gone to our boys fighting for our freedom against the Yanks Back East. So I ordered them all shot."

He takes a seat on the ground. "I...I ain't proud of having to do that, Miss Hawkins. But we were at war, and them savages were weakening the whole area with their attacks. I did what I had to do to make the land safe. But then Charging Bear broke the chain of command, went up over my head to the General, and he overruled me. I was dishonorably discharged, and a whole company was tasked with guarding a few dozen indians instead of heading up to Kentucky to fight Sherman. As a result, we lost Elizabethtown and that bastard carved a swath of destruction almost as bad as the one he chopped through Georgia in '65."

In reply to Elijah Fuller (msg #181):

"I could also call you a libel-laying yellow-press muckracking vulture." he says, scowling. "If you're going to go along, see that you don't make things worse than they already are."

Elijah would actually pause at Evans remark, thus not entering and missing quite a bit of the interaction inside.  Instead, he'd turn on the Marshal and let his smile fade a bit to solemnity.  If I'm to get anywhere in this town, I've got to win some folks over.  He's right.  Folks don't trust reporters.  Especially one tailing a violent bounty hunter....  Taking a breath, he nods once, "That's fair.  Alot of reporters are exactly that.  It ain't an easy business."  Trying to look the Marshal dead on in the eyes, to show sincerity, he'll continue, "But sir, you don't know me.  You don't know what I write.  You know my job, but not how I do it.  I'm not here to make trouble.  I'm here to find a story that folks might need to read about and I ain't goin' anywhere.  Now, I'd like my story to be one about good, strong lawmen and heroic folk fighting the good fight and saving a town that's got more than its fair share of troubles." A pause for effect, then, "People out there need heroes.  To know someone's doin' somethin'."   

There's a pause in Dixie as Carl's shoulders start twitching in his silent laugh.

Charging Bear smiles at the goings on between the Marshal and the reporter. He looks over at Carl, "Who's your money on?"

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #183):

Wildcat gets herself back together.  Her emotions were still all over the place, but she'd settled into a state of shock.

"Cantrell, I can understand the summary killin' of a man who opposed you on the field of battle in a time of war.  I'm not sure I agree with it, but I ain't been there and done that.  I can fathom it.  It's sorta a common understandin', ya go to war with someone, yer fair game for killin'.

"But there ain't no reason to do what you did.  And maybe there weren't no reason for Charging Bear to do what he done neither, but fact is you shouldna done that.  But I ain't gonna waste time raking you over the coals with hindsight, fact is, yer here now, today, and you have a choice what you're going to do now and in the future.  That's what I have to concern myself with, it ain't my purview to correct every bad deed that ever occurred in th' history of time.

"I ain't gonna judge Charging Bear neither.  I got no proof either way.  My gut will not suffice, nor will your claims that you ultimately can't back up.  The law ain't perfect Cantrell but it's a hell of a lot better most of the time for folks who ain't in the thick of it to make these decisions.  If I ever do stop some evil thing from happenin', I'll likely never know 'bout it in this life.  That's why I've got to do as much as I can, where I am, while I can.

"You ain't stupid Cantrell, I'll give you that, and I'll give you some berth for the honesty too, but the right thing to do here is let the supposed victims speak fer themselves and tell us what to do with Charging Bear.  And to be honest, if'n you can track down a score like Hardin, you got better things to do right now.  I ain't unfair, I'll let the dispatch in Austin know you brought him in.  It may take a couple of telegraphs in Victoria to claim the bounty, but yer work's done.

"Incidentally, who're the other bounties yer after?  'Specially if'n it's as serious as this, ah think ya ought to tell me."

In reply to Elijah Fuller (msg #185):

"If I can hold you to that, then perhaps we can work something out." Evans says. "And yes, I've known a few reporters who were honest men looking for the honest truth, but my life was near-ruined by the other kind, so you'll forgive me if it's not the first thing that comes to mind when I meet them. Especially with you appearing in town with that charming gentleman with the chip on his shoulder. So go ahead. Tell me how you're going to do this job of yours."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #188):

"You weren't there. You didn't have to make that decision. I pray you never have to." He says. "But seeing that you'll at least see him tried makes me feel I've left him in capable hands. So. Other bounties. Well, to tell the truth, there's a lot of things that can happen in towns like this. A town that gets skipped by a circuit judge must have someone with the resources to make that happen and a reason to do so. Makes for a haven of criminals and scum. I'm interested in poking that rock with a stick and seeing what comes slithering out."

"I've got a lot of irons in this fire. There's a girl named Katy Devon, whose husband put up a reward for her safe return. Or maybe she's his fiance, I'm not sure of all the details. It's only a couple hundred dollars, but he's a big-shot in the city of Lost Angels, and having someone that powerful bein' grateful to you can be a handy thing, if I ever need to chase a quarry into the Maze."

"There's also an Easterner by the name of Augustus Spotswood. He's one of them Mad Scientist types, built this sonic cannon gizmo that freezes people up. He went on a kidnapping spree out in South Carolina, napping rich heirs and trying to ransom them back. They caught his partner, but he got away and fled out here."

"There's a few local boys here, Nathanial Frost and Angus and Reginald Shaw, wanted in connection with some horse thefts. Of course, I was going to go after them later, as they're small fry and I didn't want to get the whole town mad at me until I was sure I could leave it behind."

"I also wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery of why the circuit judge kept skipping this stop on his tour. Information about whoever way paying him off would be worth a tidy sum to the right authorities."

"And lastly...well, there's another suspect in the rape of Rose McAnalley. An Apache who used to work in the same unit as me and Charging Bear. Just as bloodthirsty as the Cherokee, perhaps even moreso. If the Cherokee ain't the one who done it, then Itza-chu is. They were rivals, and look similar in build. He's wanted dead or alive, same as Charging Bear is, and if he's been using Charging Bear's name it might explain an odd thing or two. I don't trust either of them, and I have no proof that Itza-chu is within a hundred miles of here, but it's something to look into, just to be sure."

Carl glances up at the big Cherokee with a look that's hard to read, wondering at the smile and lack of threat, then makes a quick jerk of the head at the reporter. Word-weaselling aside, the man could probably shoot falling over.

In reply to The Dust Adders (msg #182):

Robert reels back at the sudden attack from Dave.  He brings up his fists to defend himself, and blocks his follow up blows, but the throw sends Robert crashing through a table.  Amazingly, he lands ok, but the follow up kick from the third man forces Robert to exhale about twice as much air as he should.

"Four of you on one old geezer and a girl?!" one of the poker players bellows.  He jumps to his feet and throws a punch at Kicker.  "You should kick a man when he's down."" his friend yells as he also attacks.  Sadly, both (probably) miss.  Seizing the opportunity of distraction, Robert rises to his feet and drives his cane into Kicker's guts.

The other two circle around to get at Tosser, "you ruined our poker game!"  Both hit, but clearly these men aren't pugelists.


09:54, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 2,9 using d4-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 3,(6+4)10. white to soak.
booyah, soaked the kick!
09:57, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 3,1 using d8-1,d6-1. recover from shaken.
rats.
spend WC, have RC and BC left

poker players:
09:59, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 4,4 using d4+2,d4+2. vs kicker.
(+2 for gang up, since 3 (including robert) are in melee with the kicker)

10:03, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 2,6 using d8+1,d6+1. fighting cane, -1w, +2 ganup.
10:03, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 1,4 using d4,d4. damage.
5 damage, might be shaken

10:01, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 5,5 using d4+1,d4+1. vs tosser.
I assume those are hits
10:01, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 2,1 using d6,d6. damage.


09:56, Today: Robert Micklethwait drew the single card: 10H using a deck of 54 cards. card before I forget.

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #190):

"Cantrell, you been honest injun so I'll return the favor.  I think yer a piece of bounty hunter scum.  Let's just put that right out there.  But you seem to be able to operate in the confines of the rules when there's money at stake.  I can't be everywhere, I can't arrest you for nothin'... yet, so let me put this out there.  And let's also be clear, Charging Bear will go to trial if that's what dispatch tells me to do with him.  If they've cleared him, the man walks, I can only keep him in protective custody fer so long."

Katy Devon?  Could that be...?  Wildcat can't be sure.  Could it?

"I don't mind if you look fer th' missing woman, but by God you don't lay a hand on her.  You don't follow her around, you don't try nothin'.  I admit I don't know what kind of bounty it is, but if you can confirm she's here that outta be worth somethin' to whoever posted it.  It ain't illegal to look fer a missing person using a private detective, but you touch her, threaten her, peep at her, or look at her funny, we're gonna have a problem.  A real problem.  But if ya happen to see her in public and opt to tell someone else about it, we're square."

It was all she could do.  She'd have to find Katy, warn her, tell her to stick to Evans or herself if he made her nervous, make it clear that she was free to run, but Wildcat would let her be kidnapped away over her dead body.  It was just outside of her power to tell him anything else.

"Ah think someone mentioned one of the men in the undertaker's parlor was named Frost... yeah, th' Marshall were after him, an' he's dead now I think, so that one's a bust.  The judge is a bust too, Deputy Mickle-fwate found him stone dead.  Already wired that one in myself when I told Austin Charging Bear was here."

Wildcat shrugged as if by way of apology, but she wasn't terribly sincere about it.

"As much as you insult the locals here, they've had their hands full and they have been workin' their asses off with somethin' to show fer it despite some purty bad odds.

"Th' others... don't know 'em, but I ain't been here too long.  Ya got a legit bounty, that's yer business, but if there's any more stunts like that mob, I'm huntin' you down first.

"However there's one more problem.  I'm lookin' fer two low down fools that thought a few bullets would put a stop to Wildcat Hawkins.  I know I need to find out some answers here, but I don't know who all I need to talk to.  Usually the kind of people with prices on their heads are the people with answers.  I can't have no one dissappearin' on me Cantrell.  Somebody around here's gotta know somethin'."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:22, Wed 17 Nov 2010.

In reply to Carl (msg #191):

Charging Bear nods, "Figured as much."

Carl raises an eyebrow, clearly wondering if that was a disagreement. He still seems highly amused by the idea of heroes who do things in this town, considering the marshal has just arrested the two men who've been most active in hunting down not only Frost but the random assassins. Hell, if he'd done anything heroic today it was standing up to the man who'd seen fit to bind them all in glue before making threats.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Wed 17 Nov 2010.

Charging Bear shook his head, he agrees that Fuller would probably beat Evans if things came down to it. He leaned against the building, obviously tired of standing around but then again they'd both be doing very little for the next few hours he had a feeling.

The smaller man's already shivering quite badly. Since Evans is distracted, though, he half-sinks, half-falls to his knees and watches to see if Evans objects.

Noting Carl's shivering, Charging Bear glances to Evans who seems to have other things on his mind then back around trying to see if there's anything about to get Carl warmer.

OOC:
16:22, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,4. Notice.

The ex-sergeant will notice Carl looking up at him, at first highly bemused, then with something else, a suspicion of innocence, perhaps.

He kneels there and shivers a bit, then when it's clear Evans is wrapped up in conversation makes the movement anyone who'd been in lockup overnight would expect - leaning back with an agile twist and roll of the shoulders to pull the cuffs below his hips and moving back to sit, then moving first one leg then the other to get the cuffs around to his front. Carl's paler for having pulled the metal hard against the bones of his wrists, but resumes kneeling with a roll of his shoulders and shows no pain. His look at Charging Bear now is openly curious.


[[Agility 5, willing to drop chips on't if there's a cuff penalty.]]

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #193):

"If this Mrs. Devon is here, and I send word off, the man will probably just send some other goons to collect her and cut me out of the loop. I don't see the percentage in that, so I'm afraid I won't be able to oblige your request. Unless you're willing to guarantee I get my money either way."

"Well, they aren't high on my list of priorities anyhow. If the Shaw boys show up, I might try to take 'em on, but only if I wind up going flat bust on any of my other leads."

"As for the Judge bein' dead...that's a problem, for sure, but someone here has to know why he wasn't coming here in the first place, and that's all I care about. If they're murderin' judges instead of payin' them off, then I figure you might want to know why, and I might be able to get that intel a little easier than you. Might be worth something to you later if I do. Where did the deputy find his body? Might be some clues to be had there."

He grins. "Oh, well, that I think I can help you out on. got a description of them? Perhaps maybe an alias you might have heard?" He pulls out his Bible. "That's what this thing is for, after all, assuming they're in here. Might give you a place to start with, if nothing else."

"And in the interest of being friendly, you might want to keep on the look out for a pack of bandits wearing Union Blue in the area. Apparently the governor invited a group of former Jayhawkers to Houston, for some grand ceremony meant to boost his chances of reelection by 'extending the olive branch.' The Jayhawkers arrived, smiled at the cameras, then skipped the BV train near Victoria. Rumor has it they've been spotted doing some cattle rustling and minor banditry, trying to pretend the war's still goin' on. I don't know if they're worth anything, but they could cause you more trouble than you've already got if they head this way. Keep an eye out for 'em."

Charging Bear looks around, but there isn't anything immediately apparent in the sodden surroundings that would make much of a difference in the chill

Evans notices the agile twisting and contortions Carl puts himself through to get his hands out in front of him. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I haven't heard any shooting. Let's move inside the door, at least, and get out of this infernal damp before someone catches their death of cold."

He pushes open the door cautiously and ushers the group inside. It's not actually that much warmer indoors, but at least it's drier here. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Forgive me Mr. Mickle-fwate.

Wildcat had come to trust Robert in the short time she knew him.  He was living proof that old didn't mean useless and used up.  But he was more than that, he was a man who'd been in the saddle, so to speak, who she felt enough confidence in and camarederie with to trust sight unseen like this.  He had a quality in men that Wildcat had come to recognize: he was a man who'd seen the elephant.  Of course Cantrell was too, but that's why she could trust Robert to deal with him capably.  She might even get lucky and have Robert inadvertantly become aware of Cantrell's possible designs on Katy.

Why are all the good ones married, too old, or fancy bachelors...  she mused.  Her thoughts nearly strayed to Riley, but she snapped back into focus quickly.

But he had another gift too, a silver tongue.  Katrina could cajole things from people's lips with a little work, but she couldn't make people think night was day like Robert could.  She trusted him not to give Cantrell an inch, and to sell the ghost rock fever story better than she ever could.  She could tip him off later, maybe.  He seemed to favor Katy, he could warn her.  Wildcat would no doubt have Cantrell's attention.  If the ranger went to Katy, she'd lead him right to his mark.

"Truth be told ah spent so much time puttin' out fires I haven't visited with him on it since he led me to the initial discovery.  He's a sharp one that Deputy Mickle-fwate.  Much to my chagrin he's th' expert on it at this point.

"But th' book won't help.  Didn't get a good look at 'em.  Charging Bear tried to help me corner one, but he done got away from both of us, the snake.

"The warning's appreciated Cantrell, but I won't repeat what I just said because ah know you heard me.  Now, we got a Marshall and two inmates out there, let's quit jawin' an' make sure there ain't nothin' in here."

She'd heard something about undead yankees.  Cantrell probably just unwittingly gave her a key piece of the puzzle, trouble is, it was the others who had the rest of the pieces.

This was going to be a long night.  She couldn't warn Robert or Katy.

As she resumed checking each nook and cranny, Wildcat prayed silently to herself for the two wayward deputies.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul, he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me... by the by God, this one ain't fer me this time...

*whi-hu*

Evans'll get a rather glued-up pistol thrown lightly at him when he turns, and a wry almost-smile from Carl, whom he'd forgotten to disarm. The quiet man shakes water from his hair and looks about the abandoned building with detatched interest, then looks back at Charging Bear.

[Private to Charging Bear: His knife is in his back pocket - Carl won't surrender that in goodwill, but CB'll probably see it.]

In reply to Carl (msg #203):

With a slight shake of his head, Charging Bear watches the whole of things happen. Evans while not completely inept, does lose points for not checking himself or Carl for further weapons. As the group shifts, the native son strains against the cuffs, feeling that something bad will soon happen, but the metal is too strong for him.

OOC:
21:49, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,6 using 1d8,1d6 with rolls of 4,6. Strength (to break cuffs) vs 12! .
21:49, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3 using 1d6 with rolls of 3. Blue Chip.
9 is nice but not enough... oh well.

"Well Marshal, I intend to observe and record.  Ask questions as the need arises," begins Elijah in response to the question, "If you have suggestions I'm all ears.  Like I said, not here to interfere.  Just here for the story."   He'll go along with being ushered in to the room, though he'll keep a safe distance twixt himself and Carl.  He's shifitng around and fiddling too much.  Makes a man nervous.  And when Carl produces a gluey pistol and tosses it Marshal-ways, Eli will reflexively raise his pistol.  His thumb draws back the hammer with a practiced move.  Realizing the gesture was just a snub, the reporter will maintain his aim for a moment, maybe waiting on the Marshal, "Damn fool.  Dust /Adder/'s about right.  Biblically speakin', a deaf dumb animal that just lashes out at everything.  Sound about right?"

The cold grey stare that follows Eli's comment suggests the Dust Adder can hear him perfectly well. Whilst he's still while covered by the gun he doesn't seem afraid of it; somehow the stillness, occasionally broken by shivers, seems more threatening than any fidget or shake of the fist. It's a coiled-snake stillness, or the stillness of the one wolf you've spotted in the grass which means the others are circling, somewhere.

Inwardly, Carl fights the unhinged urge to flicker his tongue at the reporter and make 'thpthpthpthp' noises. Behind him, it sounds like the injun is trying to break his cuffs. Carl readies himself and wonders if he's the savage's first target, watching Fuller all the while.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #202):

Jericho nods, but doesn't say anything more.

The rest of the building is as empty as the first floor, though it does take a good half an hour to confirm it. By the time she gets done, Evans has already brought the prisoners inside...and the reporter, who has tagged along.

---

Evans catches the pistol Carl tosses his way.. If he's bothered by the fact Carl had it, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed almost to have expected such a move.

"Your knife will be similarly as effective, sir." he says. "The paste may just be water, flour, and gelatin, but it's effective in that way. Don't think I won't be relieving you of it when I get you locked away, but even if you were to draw it I doubt you'd be able to cut butter with it until it's been cleaned."

He turns to Fuller and shrugs. "Maybe something will come to mind later. Right now, Let's get these gentleman to their rooms."

He loos at Wildcat as she returns. "Ah! good. What have you found?"

Some mood music

Katy shrieks as the men pick her up, and suddenly the situation gets to her. She was cold, wet, had gone toe to toe with a crazy lady, just watched someone almost lynched, and was now being groped by a pack of strange cowboys. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted dead away, going limp in their arms.

[[OOC: Ghost-posting for Katy at the player's request]]

Little Tom lets out an "OUUF!" As Robert's cane finds his midsection, and he goes down on one knee. The blows of the poker players don't seem to phase him none, but that might just be because he's already stunned.

[[OOC: Yes, Robert's blow has made him Shaken]]

---

Initiative:
Robert and the Poker Players: 10H
The Dust Adders: 9S
Mighty Dave: 4S

Carl shrugs a little, setting his shoulders to the wall, and gives Evans a look that says if the marshal wants any more of his property he'll have to come and get it. Mostly he's aware of Charging Bear and Eli's startled hostility as he lounges, seemingly idle, calculating their means of attack.

He starts whistling Wolves A-Howlin at Wildcat's reappearance, since the shot-up ranger seems to call the tune to mind.

...can't you hear them wolves a-howlin', all around my poor li'l darlin'...

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #207):

11:49, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 2,5 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,5. notice the cuffs?.

Don't be breakin' my handcuffs, that's not cool. D:

"A lot of nothin', Marshal.  Which is good, hell, it's great at this point."  And then she notices Carl's hands aren't how they're supposed to be.

"Excuse me Deputy, if you'll turn around please."  She turns Charging Bear slightly.  "Always behind the back, palms facing away from each other, if you can help it.  Damn near anybody can pick 'em if they can reach the lock and a piece of wire or somethin'."

As if to demonstrate, Kat actually reaches up, and hoping it's still there after all this mess, she pulls out a hair pin for Evan's benefit.  The brim of her hat couldn't be counted on to hold it back all the time after all.

"And if yer not extra careful, they'll just borrow a pick from you..."  It was an attempt at humor at her own expense, but there was probably no levity to be had here.  "Now let's get 'em situated..."

Okay Wildcat has a laundry list of other considerations, but for now she's trying to figure out somewhere, or some way, to put these two so they can at least sit down, preferably lay down and still be somehow secured, hopefully using the vault.  She ain't real interested in having to feed them because the only option was to hog tie them.

The two men on Tosser try to grab him, but he wiggles out of their grasp

Seeing Robert recovered, the two helping him go to help their friends, one kicks at his knee (agility trick) knocking him off balance, and right into the ifst of this friend !

Meanwhile, Robert, his blood boiling, swings his cane in a mighty hit which fells his foe.  "You are under arrest!"

OOC: I realized this morning that some of those poker player's should have gone to Katy's aid; I'm going to recon it by saying (if it's OK with the GM) that they were absorbed in their game until it was disrupted and didn't realize she was in the brawl as well

10:33, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 7,6 using d8+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,4. wild cane attack !.
10:33, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 4,6 using d4+2,d4, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(4+2)6. damage.
10 damage will drop him, I assume

10:35, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 4,2 using d4+1,d4+1, rerolling max with rolls of 3,1. grab tosser (grapple).

10:36, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 7,4 using d6,d4+3, rerolling max with rolls of (6+1)7,1. agility trick, punch.

13:32, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 3 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3. punch damage.


13:21, Today: Robert Micklethwait drew the single card: 3H using a deck of 54 cards. card.



This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Thu 18 Nov 2010.

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #211):

Some mood music

Kicker takes the shot, and seems to go down...only to pop up immediately with a half-filled bottle in his hand.

"Like fuck I am!" he shouts as he brings the bottle crashing into the lawyer's skull. Robert is showered with booze and bits of broken glass, and is seeing stars...

Meanwhile, Tosser yelps as he gets mobbed, and spits a tooth out from the first to his face. "Can I get some help here, Frank!?" he howls as he kicks for the crotch of the nearest poker player to both him and Dave. The townie lets out a yelp and goes down.

One of the men grabbing Katy drops her legs, leaving the other to bear her weight. He charges at the mob, stumbling a little as he does so. That makes the punch he was aiming go wide.

The other Dust Adder, now in sole custody of the girl, decides to take this opportunity to run towards the back.

Meanwhile the kid sits still, watching the proceedings in horror.

[[OOC: Here's how the rounds of the Dust Adders break down.

Tosser:

The Dust Adders rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Resist Agility Trick. That's a super uber fail, so he takes a -2 to Parry and is Shaken.

He doesn't take enough damage to be injured, but he's got four guys on him now. He spends a chip to Recover from Shaken.

He throws a punch at one of his assailants, the one closest to both him and Dave so he can get a Gang Up bonus. He also Wild Attacks, meaning his Parry is currently 3

The Dust Adders rolled 6 using 1d6+3, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Fighting with Gang Up bonus and Wild Atk. Hit.
The Dust Adders rolled 8 using 1d8+2, rerolling max with rolls of 6. Damage. Damage and a KO to one of Robert's Townsfolk.

Kicker:

Kicker is facing 10 damages, which is a Shaken and a wound (not quite 2) so he attempts to soak.

The Dust Adders rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. soak roll. blowing another chip for a reroll.
The Dust Adders rolled 11 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+5)11. white chip. That soaks the wound.

He Quick Draws an improvised weapon (a bottle) and Wild Attacks Robert. He still has the Gang up bonus from both Dave and Tosser.

The Dust Adders rolled 9 using 1d6+4, rerolling max with rolls of 5. Fighting with Gang Up bonus and Wild Atk. That's a hit. Oh, and I just noticed it's also a Raise, because Robert Wild Attacked.

The Dust Adders rolled 14,4 using d8,d4+2, rerolling max with rolls of (8+6)14,2. Damage. 18 damage total. The Dust Adders rolled 1 using 1d6. Raise damage I just noticed. Changes nothing. Ouch. What is it with Robert and getting hit with really high damage totals? That's a hit and 3 wounds, which will knock the poor man out if he doesn't soak.

Groper:

One of the grapples drops Katy and goes after the dog pile around Tosser. He throws a punch, which gets a Gang-up bonus.

The Dust Adders rolled 2 using 1d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Fighting with Gang Up bonus and Wild Atk. Flat miss.

Other Groper: He begins hauling Katy out the back.

Percy: He remains uninvolved in the fight.

Next Round: The Dust Adders drew the single card: 2D

I'll hold off on posting what Dave does until I get Robert's response on taking that massive blow to the head.]]

Roberts gamble failed, as his foe smashes a bottle over his head.  "Amelia..." he mutters as he slumps over

OOC: i have 1 wound alrady.  If I soak 1, I'll be at 3.  great
14:52, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 2 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2. blue.
14:51, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled 1,1 using d4-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2. soak attmpt RC as white.

blew both chips, and still went down. 

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #213):

[[OOC: Roll vigor due to incapacitation. Let's see if he has a concussion.]]

frak.  I forgot my other adventure card.
I could've dropped that blue to heal all injuries from this fight.

15:22, Today: Robert Micklethwait rolled -2,-2 using d4-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. vigor.

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #215):

[[OOC: Ouch. Crit Fail. *plays Taps*

Looks like we have one dead character.]]

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: looks like the choice has been taken out of your hands...Robert will rise again at sunset, assuming no-one decides to stake him.]

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #210):

"Hrmph." Evans says. He frisks Carl and secures the knife, then leads the group further inside.

The vault is fairly spacious, for a bank vault. It can easily hold a dozen people (though they'd be squished in like sardines), let alone the two it has to hold. There are two doors on the single entrance--one a barred door that has a slot through it (so that workers inside can pass objects through but still be protected from a robbery) and a larger, heavy, air-tight vault door. It should be easy enough to slip a tray of food through the slot on the barred door, should that prove necessary.

The walls of the vault are lined with empty cubbyholes, most locked up, some hanging open. There isn't any furniture here.  Luckily, Evans has the key for the inner barred door, so as long as they don't close the heavy outer door, keeping the prisoners inside the vault shouldn't be a problem.

OOC:  That door is the reason Wildcat won't leave them in here without her or Evans watching.  She does not trust Cantrell to not shut it.  I don't suppose there's an old banister or rail or anything of the sort Wildcat can jam in between the gap between the door's hinges and the vault itself?

I hope that makes sense.  Imagine opening a door of any kind, and notice there's a gap there, that's what I'm trying to shove something into.

If we had a length of chain and a padlock I'd run it around the hinges to prevent accidental closure but I doubt that's available.

Also assuming it's about been about half an hour.

"All right this outta work just fine.  Marshal, I ain't due back to th' telegraph fer 'bout an hour and a half, but fact is I'm gonna have to eat at some point and them too.  How you wanna handle the legwork?"

She turns her attention to the inmates Carl and Charging Bear.  "All right fellers, yer gonna walk in there to opposite corners and put yer nose in th' corner with a gun pointed at ya.  Marshal Evans will step in, and he will uncuff you one at a time, but you ain't gonna move, understand?  You do and I'll plug you.  But I don't think that'll be a problem and there ain't gonna be no need fer such, I think we'll all be friendly won't we?"

If they comply with the plan, Kat will draw her gun and cock the hammer once they're in the vault and nod to Evans.  She'd do this part herself normally, as she remembers Evans' quip about being inept in hand to hand combat but she reasons that if Cantrell pulls anything, she'll be better off bearing the brunt of his sucker blow.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Thu 18 Nov 2010.

Seeing his contact go down in a bloody heap with a broken bottle to the head, David decides it's time to fetch the law.  Clapping his hat to his head he slips out of the bar to find the town Marshal.

[Private to GM: I figured he might already know the office is blowed up.  If he saw which way Evan's went, he'll go, or he'll ask]

As the old man crumples, the brawl around him continues.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #218):

[[OOC: You should be able to fashion something to block the outer door from closing without too much trouble, though it Cantrell were of a mind to he could probably remove the obstruction.]]

Carl makes token resistance to being frisked, to show he doesn't appreciate it. He's otherwise compliant, though, his whistled song of wolves hunting down an unwary lady echoing around the empty building's walls until he's ushered into the vault. Though he paces over to his corner tamely enough, anyone touching the Dust Adder will feel the coiled-spring tension down his muscles.

Carl knows he could get out of this, but he's playing safe, playing nice...hopefully Evans will let him go soon enough, so that he can bark Dave down and keep a few others out of trouble before they have any more bright ideas involving alcohol and dynamite. He's ready, but not looking forward to the beating, however. The savage has been placid this far, but that didn't mean a whole lot with that one.

The native son has stayed quiet, perhaps taking stock of the situation or perhaps sizing up the quartet who are locking him up. Every dozen or so steps he tests the cuffs that Wildkitten put on him. They don't break to their credit, but they sound like they might snap at any time.

As he is told to enter the vault he takes a moment to look the holding vault over.  Charging Bear nods, mostly to himself as though finding the place acceptable. After the formality of the handcuff removal, which Charging Bear does nothing strange about. He inquires, "Any chance of getting a couple of cots?"

Evans nods to Wildcat. "I can do that, assuming I don't have to deal with yet another crisis on my way there." he lowers his voice. "Which I am sincerely hoping I don't have to. I can only shoot one, perhaps two more bursts of glue from my contraption, and despite my boast I don't actually think I'll be able to get it working again after that, unless I take a whole day to go over the inner workings."

Evans heads into the cell and removes the cuffs, grateful that the two prisoners don't give him any problems. "I'll see what I can do." he says to Charging Bear.

He heads out of the cell. "Your prisoners, Miss Hawkins." he says, then turns to Elijah Fuller. "Well, then. If you want to chronicle things, you can help by being an extra pair of hands. Come with me...I have some errands to run."

With that, he heads outside, back into the rain...right into the path of David Fletcher...

Wildcat put her gun back in its holster after a couple of manipulations which put the hammer back down on the empty chamber.  Her improvised door stop won't stop Cantrell from pulling that stunt, but it will keep it from being obvious what he's doing, and it won't be as quick.

She looks around to see if there's a chair (for her, standing up all night is a noble sentiment but a waste of precious energy), or anything she can squeeze through the bars for the inmates that might have some utility (nothing comes to mind).

Beyond that it's a lot of hurry up and wait.  After a few moments of awkward looking about and improvising door stops and whatnot have passed, she looks to Carl and pulls the harmonica out of her pocket.

"Ya like songs do ya Adder?  I got one for ya."

Katrina's skill in the harmonica was amateurish, but really, what suited a jail better than a warbling mouth organ?  Nevertheless the choice of a meaningful song matched his tit for tat as she played The Streets of Laredo.

Elijah doesn't flinch under the look he receives from the prisoner, just returning a bigger grin.  He's the sort, like Daniel Boone, to just grin down a bear.  Works on occaision.  Right up till it doesn't.  Once the Marshal takes things in hand, he thumbs the hammer carefully back down and reholsters his pistol.  He'll nod a friendly nod to the return of Hawkins and Cantrell, putting his coat back over his weapon.  The Marshal's offer is taken up, "Always ready to assist, Marshal.  It /is/ a citizens duty after all."  And with that, he'll follow along back out into the rain.

If she's listening for it, Wildcat'll catch a soft, cautious padding up to the door from the darkness of the vault, Carl moving with the expectation of a coming attack from his cellmate. It's shortly clear he's up against it, however, as a well-practiced whistling eventually joins in, carefully matched to her key and tempo.

Carl watches the barred patch of grey light thrown before him (not much of an advantage, but he'd heard an injun could see in the dark as well as a mountain cat), the heartache so strong he could almost - almost - weep. She might mean to mock him, but a song for Jesse is a song for Jesse, and damned if he'll sit out on it. He only wavers once, as the thought crosses his mind that he'd meant to have Jesse sing today, for absent friends - a voice that'd shame a mockingbird, and a memory for lyric to match, if only you got him drunk enough to forget the fear of laughter he painted over with aggression. Poor Jesse would never sing again.

It occurs to Carl that never is an awful long time.

Katy was getting carried out the back by an adder after her swoon, the world was not lost completely as the last thing she had seen was a vulgar talking man and Mister Robert in a fight against all those men.  She felt herself being pulled along and she squirmed hard, roughly shoving at the man to get him off from her.

01:20, Today: Katy Devon rolled 14,7 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+2)14,(6+1)7. vigor. [She's awake]
01:23, Today: Katy Devon rolled 9,1 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 9,1. agility vs adder.

" S-stop! Stop that at once." Pushing away from him, she pulled her gun and pointed it at the man with a very steady hand.

" You. I don't know what you and those mad men think they are doing. I don't know why everyone in this town has to be utterly crazy. I don't know what you want with me, but know this, sir. You boys are going to leave me alone so I can get a damn cup of tea and a warm spot by a fire. Do you understand, at all, how cold it is? Have you no sense to stay out of the rain? It's been a traumatizing few days that have tested the boundries of common decency. Please... I implore you and I will not ask again. We're going to head inside and your going to call to all your friends. And we'll talk all civil like. If not, i'm going to hide and you will come with me." She said rather confidently and a bit stern.

" So, would you kindly move back inside the saloon with me."

Charging Bear let the other's talk and play music, his mind was on how to defend himself when Cantrell and he were finally along. Taking his time and being as quiet as he could, the native son searched each cubbyholes, trying the ones that were closed and seeing what if anything the open ones might have to offer. Sure it was a mining vault, didn't mean there wasn't a weapon hidden by an employee as just in case.

Wildcat is genuinely amused that the man can whistle.  A few hymns and popular standards on the harmonica is all she's really competent at, a skill mostly honed from a handful of music lessons and lots of time like this, spent hurrying up to wait.

"All right partner-"  the use of the word was of course inappopriate but it was just a byproduct of habit, "- it seems I got your attention, an' we ain't goin' nowhere, an' I noticed ya don't seem to say much, so I'll do some jawin' for ya.  It's gonna take me a minnit or three ta get to the point, but you ain't goin' nowhere til mornin' so what time do you have ta lose?"

Wildcat shifts herself around, doing what she can with her hair, her poor suffering hair, replacing the hair pin back and otherwise settling in place for a moment.  She sets the hat aside.  Without that hat, that stoic scowl on her face or that anger in those cobalt blue eyes, she sure doesn't look like much of a ranger.  Cantrell's news is still with her, still robbing her of most of her usual acerbic speech.

"First, I gonna set a coupla things straight.  Main thing is I do understan' ya hate me, an' I don't expect nothin' I ever say ta change that.  Ya'll want we should get to killin' each other, it'll happen, simple as that.

"Now with that in mind, I had hist'ry with yer boy Jesse, but hand to Jesus I never wanted 'im to die.  Ah had the chance to kill 'im in cold blood with no consequences back in Nacogdoches when I turned that outhouse over on 'im, an' I didn't do it.  If'n I really wanted him to die at mah hand, I had th' perfect opportunity to go rogue and hunt him down way back when.  An' I had th' ability, then and now.  But th' judge let him free back then, an' I let him be.  You hear me, I let him be.  He's the one that decided our business was unfinished, to create some new business.

"I've got a gray haired momma somewhere too.  Is it any more fair she should be the one to get the news?"

The tone indicated the question was rhetorical, that as far as Kat was concerned he thought she could go to hell on the eight fifteen, but there was a pause to see if the Adder had the interest or stamina for her to continue and get to the eventual point of all this.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:36, Fri 19 Nov 2010.

"..."

There's no verbal response, but since he's not whistling, otherwise expressing lack of attention or shifting away it's very probable Carl's listening. In truth he is, quite hard, both to Wildcat's rambling and the injun scuffling about for anything sharp in the old safeboxes. Carl silently removes his belt, wrapping the ends around either fist.

In reply to Carl (msg #231):

09:08, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 14,9 using d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (4+4+4+2)14,(6+3)9. Notice CB rooting around in there?.

One time Wildcat is definitely NOT blind.


For a moment, the ranger persona comes back.

"Hey redskin!  Cut that shit the hell out right now, dammit."

Kat was pissed.  She'd stuck her neck out for him, done the best she could to facilitate his freedom from vigilante justice and Cantrell, and now he was pulling this stunt.

She sighed.  They didn't have time to search those things tonight.  If Charging Bear still had to be in custody tomorrow, she'd have to cuff him to something else, perhaps the door but with his body around its edge so he couldn't lock her in, or perhaps Evans could come in for a time and train a gun on him or get Mr. Mickle-fwate to do it, to have time to go through them all.

"Now sit down in that other corner right there, back, to the right.  You-"  she tells Carl.  "You stay up here near the front, to the left.  Tarnation, are we going to play these stupid games all night?  Now sit yer keisters down.  What the hell is it going to accomplish if one of you brains the other?  Nothin'.  You -" she addresses Carl.  "-ain't done nothin' that one night in the pokey ain't a cure for, keep it that way.

"And yer really pissing me off Deputy Bear.  I know this ain't exactly pleasant fer you, but if'n yer past has caught up to ya, this here's the only way yer ever gonna move on.  An' both ya'll don't think I won't sit here and shoot you from complete safety.  Yer both bigger an' stronger than me, an' I'm outnumbered.  If one of ya'll does somethin' stupid I ain't got a lot of options.  An' I'd hate to be in there if I start shootin', if'n I miss the ricochet might could still get ya."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:24, Fri 19 Nov 2010.

There's a brief, hard-to-read glance back at the Ranger from Carl as he moves to her left and out of easy vision from the door bars. So, the Ranger didn't count the bounty hunter as an ally either. That was interesting. Seems he'd impressed her enough to add an inch to his height or an impression of brawn, too, though he doesn't doubt he's stronger than her.

Carl settles down and waits, wary, for the injun and/or Ranger to get on with it.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:48, Fri 19 Nov 2010.

OOC:  Assuming Charging Bear doesn't do anything, since his player is a bit out of pocket.  Still, bad Indian!  Bad!

She calms down.  "All right Adder, you can come back here closer to the door.  I didn't mean you two couldn't move at all, but it's best you just stay in opposite corners.  Ah will not tol'rate fighting in there.  This is going to be a long damn night, at least you two get to sleep in there if you can manage to somehow.  Let's not make this any harder than it already is."

There'd been enough gaffes already.  This situation was just horrible.  She was praying they'd just realize it was a waste of energy and effort to fight each other, because keeping one wary eye on Cantrell and the other on them would drain her.  If she had to open the door and go in there to break up a brawl, which she didn't like her odds of with Charging Bear in the mix and the Adder wasn't no slouch either, Cantrell would surely take advantage of it somehow.

Kat never really got wrapped up in the inherent disadvantages of her gender in her occupation, but she had to deal with reality.  She could usually fight one man on a surprisingly equal footing, maybe two if they weren't very practiced scrappers.  Then again most men would have to say the same.  Still, being shorter and lighter with less muscle where it counted did count for something.  That and she was tough, not strong, there was a difference.

She'd hoped Charging Bear would at least care enough about her to realize what she was doing and do what he could to facilitate, but that searching through the boxes stunt made her doubt it now.

"Now, ya in th' mood fer me to finish?"  She asks Carl.

Carl comes in sight of the bars with the ghost of a grin at the Ranger's dollhouse games. What was it to her if they fought?

He shrugs his uninjured shoulder at Wildcat's question, though it seems to be far more an 'if you're minded' than a dismissive kind of shrug, the man watching her with faint curiousity.


[[I'm off sick from work, but I don't think Cantrell is set to be noisy here unless CB is, so it won't torment Stray to return to thousands of posts...]]

That, and I think once Evans finds out what happened to Robert, the proverbial poo will hit the oscillating blades.  Better to get this knocked out.

Since she'd lost her momentum, Wildcat had to recap.

"Ya hate me for killing yer boy, that's fine, I'll own up to it and all the consequences, but ya'll deserved ta know and this was my only chance to tell ya.  Somethin' was taken from you, so yer entitled to the whole truth and there it is.  What you do with that informashun is on you."

Wildcat shrugs.  She doubted Carl even cared about the whole truth, both sides of that story.  But she felt he deserved to know, and it was off her back now.

"But that leads me to something I noticed today.  I didn't even realize it until that newshound said somethin' and it cleared up the cobwebs in mah head.  See ah wasn't thinkin' straight earlier.  You wantin' to gut me fer shooting Jesse, I do not take it personal.  It makes sense, it makes perfect sense don't it?  Ain't that what you fellers are all about?  Watch out fer each other?  But don't answer me yet.

"Cuz I seen two other things today that don't make a lick of sense.  Th' minor one was when you was scrappin' wit' that idjit that done plugged me full of lead, yer own boys didn't want to go help you.  They chose to sit there and hurl insults at me than go help you.  Now I ain't butthurt about it, but the point is back there with the lynch mob, I was a hell of a lot more worried about Deputy Bear not getting kilt than I was about arrestin' whoever started that mob.  Ain't saving the souls you care about more important than punishing the ones you hate?  But don't answer me yet.

"Here's what takes the cake.  Someone done told that precious little one I killed his pa.  Now I don't mind if you blame me fer it in front of all yer other Dust Adder friends in th' saloon, but why tell him that?  I understand he ain't a Dust Adder, but his pa was, and his pa done gave up his life fer you.  That boy is one of yers to protect and hold dear and you lie to him like that, about one of the most important moments in his life?  Was his pa's life worth so little to you that you have no respect for what that boy has lost?

"I take that downright personal.  I at least knew who shot my pa, and I were only about a year older than him.  Do you know what would do to him, to go thinkin' I shot his pa and it turns out to be a lie all those years later?  You let him live on a lie like that, just to get one more gun pointed at me because ya hate me?

"I can understand you all hate mah guts in a way ah don't comprehend.  I truly can, we're natural enemies.  But make me understand Adder, how can you all hate each other as much as you hate your bona fide enemies... the thought chills me to the bone, it ain't human.  Even the worst scum usually don't have it out fer their own family members.  I ain't never heard of such hate in men.

"Because from what I seen, you ain't about watchin' out fer each other, and that makes you look like the worst monsters 'magin'ble.  You probably don't give a damn what I think, an' that's fine.  But the question becomes then either how is it I'm wrong, or else how do you live like that?"

Carl watches Wildcat at an angle for a long moment, perhaps testing whether she's really willing to listen or whether she's long ago made up her mind how she'll hear any answer.

"..."

He holds up a hand, and when the words come, finally, they're low and measured and barely touched by any inflection at all:

"I kilt Nate this mornin', acause he done wrong - attacked our town, shook the boss' faith in us. He'd'a hung if I hadn't." Pause. "Now, Frost was the one taught us best to run together...we're close, but there ain't a natural order t'us like brothers, so we follow who can lead, an' for that y'need fire, y'need bite, y'need vision...I showed I got bite pretty well, an' I got vision, but Jesse always did my burnin' for me, an' I-" Carl shakes his head. Irrelevant. "So anyhow, looks like Dave decided I dint have it, lied to the boys - li'l Timothy Landers included - t'git me left out there in hopes the fancy man'd finish me. I called him on it when I limped on back, but I let him live 'cause I knew he was close with Nate an' bad cut up 'bout Charlie an' maybe he'd convinced hisself you done it. Could be I shoulda blown his brains out then."

Carl licks his lips, perhaps shaking as much from the effort of so much direct expression as the cold. "I thought it was Evans, but then Percy swore blind it was some girl playin' dime heroine." He looks across at Wildcat. "I told him to go on down to the Landers when he was fed, let 'em know. Try an' undo whatever bullshit you told the boy, help get him a life t'live."

He takes a deep breath, then, shoulders tensed, turns his back on Charging Bear to look directly at Wildcat, gripping a bar with the hand that still has his belt around. "Ranger, I never gave a damn 'bout you 'til you killed a man who was my kid brother in all but blood. Jesse meant more to me than you ever will." Grey eyes hold hers, and the stillness is back with a sense of killing cold. "I can't forgive you, 'cause you've got more t'prove than any man as was born one, an' you'll jes' drop the next dumbass farm boy who dreams too big f'himself in his tracks rather than talk him down. That's jes' how you are, no fault in it: you got no more mercy in your soul than I do."

Carl shrugs slightly, looking back a moment to check CB isn't about to jump him. "I ain't gonna waste my life hatin' you, either." His gaze returns to hers. "Which is why you got to die."

Wildcat listens carefully, quite surprised by the answer in many ways.

"So it's not that simple then ah reckon.  Ya'll ain't quite of one accord are ya'll?  Then why set yerselves apart from everyone else like that?"

That alone shocked her.  That something like that existed, such men banded together without a singular, harmonious, nefarious purpose.

"But you got a couple things wrong.  So his name is Landers.  I didn't tell him nothin', I offered him my help, if he wants it.  You may not want him to have it, but this is something I know a hell of a lot about.

"I ain't gonna sit there and lecture someone who had the worst day of their life how their daddy was this or that, they don't want to hear it.  Fact is there ain't very much you can say, at all.  But there's things you can do.  Good things, simple things.  Not go batshit crazy like ah did.

"That little one... well he really ain't little no more.  He just grew up and doesn't even know it yet.  He'll have to make decisions now, decisions he shouldn't have to make.  I can't, won't, and shouldn't make those decisions for him and neither should you.

"He deserves another chance, another point of view, and the right to choose whatever he thinks is the right path even if you personally don't like it."

Wildcat pauses.

"I have no mercy?  I guess yer right I ain't much good at talkin' people down.  Mebbe that is in my nature.  But that ain't th' same as havin' no mercy, that's just bein' bad at somethin'.

"And if you want to play that game, you were right there.  He was your man to talk down as much as mine.  But if I ain't got no mercy, how come I don't just shoot you right now and prevent yet another damn problem?

"And for that matter, forgiveness and hatred are both choices.  I'll never forgive the man who shot my pa, and I'll always hate him and those are my choices.  But yet I can live with not ever killing him."

Yay for the law abiding stipulations of Vengeful (Minor)!

OOC: will the rest of the brawl be resolved with dice, or do you want to hand wave it?

Carl laughs his silent laugh, showing teeth, and takes his time, scraping the words together. It's almost physically painful after all these years, but the Ranger wouldn't notice anything as wasn't barking at her. "...we got set apart, Ranger. I got set apart four years younger than the Landers kid, when the angels laid my mama away an' my daddy took up with the bottle demon. I never had one week of school together after that, makin' sure Pa dint kill hisself, stayin' away from those as'd make fun an' those who'd try to get me 'dopted away out of pity. Learnt t'work Sabbath 'cause beasts don't know it's Sunday."

"We ain't all spat-on sons o' drunks, 'course - there's some who jes' want free of a soft life that's hard on a man's soul, some whose family got too many mouths t'feed, pushed them out...drifters, stray folk, fightin' men who never unlearnt killin' after the war taught 'em too well...wanted men, unwanted men. Now, a woman can marry if she ain't good for nothin' else, but a man has to work."

Carl takes a space to breathe, holding up a hand to show he's not finished.

"A bunch of good-for-nothings can amount to something if it pulls together. Make a livin'. Make a life. Be a family for those who ain't got, even if they don't have any right or ejucation as how the rest of the world sees it."

The Dust Adder watches the Ranger a bit. "Lady, that boy's carryin' a weight you never had. He's the man of his house. I ain't forcin' him to take up nothin', but I'm offerin' him a way into work - a way to take the pressure off his mama so he never has to see her git worn down tired feedin' the both of them." Carl nods. "The gang'll give her what we can, call it loaned f'her pride, but most'f us have our own folks to see to. You go messin' him up with ideas 'bout the Law what never helped his Pa that's her life you mess with, an' he'll never forgive hisself."

Carl pales at the remark about his duty, lip curling. "I was tryin' t'catch some shootist at the time, dint think you were much up to calling on a fight." He leans a bit nearer the bars, expression leaving his face. "You laughed at him, I reckon. Jesse never could stand bein' laughed at. An' mercy ain't the same as not doin' what's sense, mercy's when you don't cripple a man who kicked you. I ain't done nothin' to you, Ranger."

Mouth drying, Carl spits the bad taste of glue and whiskey aside on the floor. "...an' if you shoot me, you lose your 'moral high ground' like a Yankee caught fuckin' contraband boys." His eyes meet hers again, the cold anger there that isn't in his voice. "You can't pretend you're better than us no more. 'Cause that's all there is between us - you an' your Law: masters an' a home to go to. That's what a dog is...deep down, he's jes' a wolf pretendin' to be your friend." The slight movement may be a twitch of the head at Charging Bear or it may not, just a fidget.

"So marry him," Carl shrugs. "I reckon I owe more of my time on this earth to Jesse an' h- well, what all's around me than to you."

OOC: does David find the marshal?

Noting the badge, David introduces himself.  In his distinctive Yankee accent, he tips his hat.  "Marshal?  There is a brawl at the sa-loon, and I fear an elderly deuputy of yours is badly injured."

Evans stops in his tracks. No. Oh, dear god, no. No, please...

"What?" he breathes, trying to fight that chill spreading up his spine. He shakes his head, trying to unhear what he just heard. "Oh god, no. no...Jesus Christ, please...not again...not now..." He mumbles.

It was Robert. It had to be. Evans broke into a run, heading back down the street towards the Grand Bull at top speed, without another word, leaving Fuller and Fletcher to catch up as best they can.

Charging Bear gave Wildkitten a hard look as she called him redskin, but he said nothing. Moving to the back of the vault he remained silent and listened to how two white folk had such horrible lives. As Carl and Wildkitten finished their pity party the native son started to laugh, a deep belly laugh. After a minute he falls silent again.

The cubbyholes that Charging Bear could reach and look through in between the time he made the decision and the time Wildcat told him to stop were all empty, or locked. That didn't mean there wasn't the possibility of something still with in the deposit boxes, but it looked like the place had been thoroughly cleaned out by whoever left the building to rot.

It's Wildcat's turn to be hard to read.

"Well, yer all not what I thought, and that's a good thing.  I'll give ya that much.  What yer doin'... it may even have had noble roots at one point.  I'd even go so far as to say that.  People coming together, that's what th' preachers call fellowship.  Ah think despite yer self admitted faults, you understand that concept.

"Th' trouble is when you don't stop there.  You raise each other up, but you also raise up that mantle of the outcast, the unwanted, the victim.  You set yerself apart because you can't let go of it.  It closes your eyes to other possibilities that maybe things don't have to be that way.  You seem to think I think I'm better than you.  Well guess what, this here gun, it'll kill you and me just as dead.  I believe the same God will judge us both on the same criteria one day, an' if'n you don't believe in that it don't matter because that just means we'll both pass into the same nothing.  We ain't the same, but I ain't better than you in all the ways it ultimately matters."

Wildcat shrugs.  "You got some funny ideas about wimmen too.  You think it's hard being the man of the house?  Try not even having a man of the house when ya got mouths to feed.  A man has to work all right, but so does a woman, she just ain't workin' fer some feller's money most of the time, and when she has to do that, it's a hard road to hoe.  Yer right some women ain't good fer nuthin', same as some men, but my momma gave up a lot in life to be who she was, worked her fingers to the bone, and after daddy got kilt she worked the bones off.

"I've walked both sides of that fence.  How many Rangers do you think can bake a pie, hem a skirt and tie a pretty bow with a piece of ribbon?  How many women do you think know how to fry and swallow a lizard whole, ride a horse into battle, and kill a man with a knife?  And you know what, it ain't a whole lot of fun either way.

"And incidentally, the reason I've not shot you is it would be wrong.  You clearly recognize yerself it would be wrong.  You may question my motivations, and that's your perogative, but that proves something very important to me.  You know the difference.

"Now fer whatever it's worth, and it ain't much at all, yer man might have had a better chance of him and me backing off if'n we weren't surrounded by a bunch of men who don't even see me as a living thing, because I don't carry that yoke of thinking I'm an outcast like they do.  And that's the reason... this can't keep going like this.  If you'll listen to me a little bit longer, I'll stop with the cowgirl speeches about things I know you don't care about and offer you a deal with the devil herself.  If'n I can learn to shut up, listen, and cure my own ignorance, I bet you can too."