Carl's shoulders hit the bars of the door hard as he jerks back in shock. Ignoring pain, speech, pointed weapons, anything but the urge to get away, he claws at Wildcat's gun arm, possibly trying to shove the weapon down toward the lock, probably just trying to reach the handle on that side.

The Dust Adder flails a bit, pressed up against the metal, fingertips scraping the handle. No way out. No way out! Carl catches a bar as his legs decide they won't hold him and part-hangs, part-leans against the door, teeth bared at the apparition.

Wildcat is thrown off by the Adder's frantic charge, but does her best to maintain control of the weapon, backing off.

Even the weakest locks are impossible to breach with mere handguns, a scattergun might stand a chance, but not against... this thing.

She couldn't try to reliably aim at the thing or manipulate the door with Carl going crazy, so for now she just stands back, helpless to do anything.

After a few moments more, Charging Bear's feels the strength of his body returning.

OOC: Not sure of the 'rounds'
16:09, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Spirit (unshake).

"Oh, now, Carl, that ain't no way to greet an old friend now, is it? We got so much to discuss." The snake-eyed ghost says, walking calmly up to the terrified man. He places his gun up against Carl's head. "One ill turn deserves another. As the Good book says, 'I will strike down upon them with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my bothers.'" The hammer cocks back. "And you will know I am THE LORD when I lay my vengeance upon thee!"

The gun screams like burning ghost rock, and Carl feels the ghostly bullet snap his head back...

[[OOC: Ol' Snake eyes lays a curse on Carl.

Ol' Snake Eyes rolled 8,9 using d8+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 6,(6+1)7. Touch attack!

Ol' Snake Eyes rolled 5,3 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3. Spirit.

Carl, roll vigor to avoid having the curse stick. You need to beat 5.

We're not really in Rounds, just posting in turn right now]]

Carl snarls mutely, withdrawn so far into instinct the words may not even register. His body jerks back against the door with the phantom explosion, reflexes fully believing he's been shot in the head.


[[3 - Nope, sticky curse. [sadface] I hope it's not eternally feeling as though about to sneeze, that would suck...]]

Thinking quickly, Charging Bear quickly removes his belt and lashes out at the spectral form of Nathanial Frost.

OOC:
16:33, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,5 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,5. Fighting.
I miss the ghost.

The wailing from the shot fades. wildcat, close to the shot, feels herself spattered with gore...but there's no blood that she can see.

Carl feels blood leaking out of the back of his head, down his neck, soaking his shirt. There's a ringing in his ears...might be tinnitus from the gunshot, might be the quiver of his mortal soul at the horror of the undead before him.

"There. You're marked now, Carl. Marked for death." the ghost says, withdrawing the smoking gun from the man's forehead. Carl can still feel the pain, like a flash burn. "Feel it eat away at you. You'll be dead with in the week, and so will all them others what hunted me down. I'm a vengeful spirit. Tell the other boys to expect me. You're my harbinger now."

The belt whips out at the apparition, but goes through him. If he felt the blow, he doesn't show it. But he turns to face Charing Bear. "You and I will have our reckoning, Redskin. But not yet. I'll get to you later."

He turns to Wildcat, winks at her, and blows her a kiss.

[[OOC: Carl, you are Cursed. You are Fatigued, which imposes a -1 penalty on all trait rolls (like a wound). You'll need to make a vigor roll each day or it will get worse. You'll need to find someone who can break the curse, or convince the spirit to lift it (destroying the spirit won't help).]]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:56, Tue 23 Nov 2010.

Wildcat can't hear what it's saying, but that infuriates her.  The blonde has a real short fuse when people are being attacked.

"Get out here you son of a bitch, what kind of stunt are you pulling!?  You want to go, we'll go right now!"

This is clearly not a rational plea as Wildcat has absolutely no idea what she can do to an opponent who cannot be harmed by neither lead nor steel.  Just better her than the helpless men in the cage.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:04, Tue 23 Nov 2010.

"Good...at guessin'...ain't she?" Carl raises his head. He's dead, he knows he's dead, and somehow that makes it all right. He meets the spectre's eyes, nothing in the intelligence returning to his expression but betrayal.

"..."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Tue 23 Nov 2010.

The ghost returns Carl's glare. "Our fight may have been square, but that ain't what i'm pissed about anyhow. 'We shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth the horse heels, so that his rider shall fall backward.'" he says. "That was us. All together against the world that done us wrong. You could have refused to help Ward, or run him around long enough for me to skip town. Or hell, you could have left me my goddamn head and given me a chance to crawl back out of the ground like them other deaders done, and the law wouldn't have nothin' to say about it since I'd already be dead. But you went to Ward like a dog, then turned my boys against me with his blood money, and then made damn sure I didn't even have a way back. That's three times you betrayed me, Carl. And as I said, one ill turn deserves another. So you go on and tell Mike, Little Tom, Percy, and Frank their doom is comin' for them. I'd get Jesse, too, but your girlfriend there got to him first." His tips his hat, and walks out the back of the vault, though the solid wall. "See you all again soon."

Carl's silent reply starts off a snarl, but it changes to a sort of lip-curled disbelief and finally a pale anger. He siezes and balls up his shirt from beside him, skin prickling at the feel of phantom blood, and throws it after the departing departed. "..."

Meanwhile, in the Grand Bull Saloon, Katy finally got her tea and tearfully drank it. The simple pleasures in life really could bring one to their knees if they only could realize how important it was. Her slender cold fingers touched the smooth wooden cup the dark amber liquid distorting the ghostly image of her reflection as she shook a little from the soreness of her rump that burned a bit when she sat. Now her distress didn't come from the cutting of her hair, she use to do that all the time up to three years ago and would dress like a boy and wrappingh er chest down. Hell, even her brothers on occasion would play a joke to choppping off lobs of her hair while she slept and throwing it around the yard. It wasn't being dunked in the trough, even though it had a weird sort of smell, like a stagnant pool. She always use to swim and her brothers would toss her int othe lake and ruin her new dresses.

What truly distrought her was gettingspanked with a paddle. She never been paddled before, her big brothers always got a whippin for draging her into things and she would always try to mind them they'd get the switch for acting that way. Boys will be Boys, cause they never cared about the consequences. Too bad that she did. And now, she has all those little secrets too.. The vampires, the bites, the bandits, and the large giant kid named Tex...

She had no where else to go, she had no one that could truly help her. Perhaps she should have just ran out of town rather then sticking around here..

With a shuddering sigh, she finished off her tea and raised from her stool to collect the luggage. Giving a last look around, she walked out to the streets and down the murky road and started walking barefoot in the rain to nowhere...

[Exit Katy Devon - Intro]

Wildcat slowly calms down after seeing the apparition vanish.  It was probably a good thing she couldn't hear the thing, as the idea Kat would be this Adder's sweetie possibly could have enraged her to the point she might have torn the vault door off its hinges.  After leaving Riley at the altar, she'd not really had time to worry about the fellers, or so she'd told herself, but those inner demons would have to lie mercifully still for another day for lack of auditory perception.  The implicit statement that she willfully killed Jesse just for his satisfaction wouldn't have helped either.

The apparition's silence however was dreadfully effective in its own way.  It just creeped her out, more than anything it could possibly have said.

She looks down at where she felt blood spray her, but doesn't see any.  The reality of this finally sinks in for her as the adrenaline dies down.  What the hell just happened here?  He shot 'im, ain't ya supposed to get hurt when yer shot?

"Are you... are you all right?"  she asks Carl, the concern genuine.  "That was so creepy... the way it didn't make a sound."

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #9):

Elijah stamps his cane on the floor, trying to shock Evans into paying attention, "I was with you the whole damn time.  I didn' see you swing no damn bottle or start no damn fight.  You hired that good man to do a hard job and he died trying.  That's the way of it."  His voice grows a little softer at the thought, "Good men die trying.  Every damn day."  Shaking out of the reverie, the soldier-turned-reporter continued on, "You didn't kill that man.  A bad situation did.  Now, you can make that situation worse by turning your back on the town /or/ you can keep trying to make it right.  Good men try.  Its what makes them better.  It ain't about being perfect."

"For the last two and a half days it's just been one crisis after another, each one worse than the last." Evans says. "In two days I went from stalemate with the Dust Adders to all out war. And that's not counting in the horrible, monstrous things that I've found writhing just underneath the surface." he looks at Elijah with that thousand yard stare. "Did you know that there have been dead men wearing Union uniforms attacking people at the edges of town? Did you know that there might be a nest of vampires spreading their taint throughout the citizens? did you know that one of the Dust Adders is an unholy giant with the strength of ten men who could break me in half if he weren't so mentally retarded? Did you know that the wealthiest, most powerful man in town might be summoning some ancient Indian snake demon to devour everyone? Did you know that? Any of it?" he looks down at the ground again. "And add to that the tension with the Dust Adders, and the fact that any move I make against Dr. Ward might make everything worse for eveyone because he's the only one that brings business to this town...and I've also got assassins shooting up Rangers, and now bounty hunters locking up my deputies, and now, now, one of the most reliable, dependable people I've known is dead and gone....It's too much! I can't bear it! It's too goddamn much!"

Elijah listens quietly to the litany of troubles.  His expression remains impassive, purposefully so.  Hell... Either he's gone completely loco or the Epitaph is gettin' some things right.  Either way, I am smack in the damn middle of this Helltown, which is currently runnin' very low on lawmen.  Still want this story Elijah?  Think hard now...  After a quiet moment, he leans, carefully, down and picks up the tin star.  He polishes it off lightly on his coat and pockets it, "I'll get this to the Ranger."  Another moments thought and he tugs a small metal flask out from a pocket.  This is offered to Evans, the reporter's voice is carefully calm, "I'm leavin' you be for now.  You'll need this and you'll need to go rest up somewhere.  Anywhere you can go that's relatively safe where I can find you later?"

Evans takes the flask and drinks a long pull. "I will be here, at least for a while. If I'm not, then I will be at the Grand Bull, packing my things." He fishes out a ring of keys. "Give this to her as well. She'll need them."

Elijah accepts the keys with a nod, stuffing them into another pocket.  He actually seems at a loss for words for a moment, but finds something, "Get some rest.  I mean it.  We'll talk agin before you go leavin' town." The tone doesn't seem to leave any room for equivocation.  With that, he turns to thump his way out of the undertaker's, calling back quietly, "Just remember that ya tried.  That makes ya one of the good ones.  No matter what."

As elijah heads down the street, he passes the large figure of Jericho Cantrell heading the other way, towards the saloon. The big man didn't seem to notice him.

Elijah pauses to watch the hunter go on by, eyeing him curiously.  Now I thought he was watchin' the prisoners with the Ranger...  I hope that Ranger is still breathin'....  I do not want to get stuck with this damn star.  Thumping his cane on the boardwalk, Elijah makes his slow way back to the safehouse with its vault-turned-jail.  Using his cane, he raps on the door, "Ranger!  Still in the land of the livin' I hope?!"

Oh what now?

"Whoever's there, you might as well come on in, t'ain't locked."

Sounds like the Ranger...  I doubt the big fella or the Injun could manage that voice  Elijah knocks open the latch on the door and pushes it open with his cane, his other hand near his holstered pistol.  This town makes a man jumpy.  If nothing terribly wrong presents itself, he'll step on in.  "Ranger?" he inquires, looking around the place.  He keeps his voice quiet, no sense in letting the jailbirds know more than they should, "I got some bad news for ya...  Marshal up an quit."  He draws out the tin star as proof.

Oh hell.  Blackthorn was now truly lawless.

Wildcat went into emotional shock.  Between the recent news Hardin had been caught, the realization a Dust Adder at least knew what wrong was, and the weirdness she just saw, this was too much.  Her internal monologue, like the ghost she'd just seen, was silent.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breathe before she reaches her gloved hand out for the Marshall's star.

"Mr... Fuller was it?  Can you at least tell me why?"

Shit...  There's that look again.  I swear if the Ranger throws down /her/ star, I ain't pickin' it up this time.  Leaning heavily on his cane, Elijah nods, "Yes'm.  Elijah Fuller.  As for why the Marshal quit... One of his deputies was killed in a bar brawl while y'all were settin' up the jail here.  A Mr. Micklethwait I believe."  He pauses again to fish out the Marshal's keys, which he hands over as well, "Given that his other deputy is in jail here and the trouble with the local roughnecks..."  He trails off, eyeing the Ranger a bit, "Along with a series of other...occurences...  I believe the man is overwhelmed.  Feels lost."  He shrugs a bit, noting, "I seen it in the War.  Officer loses alot of men...  Blames himself.  Loses his nerve."

Wildcat looks disheartened at the news.

"Oh no, Mr. Mickle-fwate..."  Wildcat felt her heart sank.  She'd barely known him, and her regret at the fact welled up inside her.  But this was no time.

The worst part is the running joke with his name will likely have to stop now.

She looked at the star, and thought about what she'd told him.  She thought about what Elijah was saying too, nodding without realizing it.

"Mister Fuller... were he in any condition to be jawed at?  Ah need a yes or no, this is importan'."