At the mechanical creature's words, the mountain lion roars. It dips it's head at the group huddled around the wagon.

First it dips it's head at Gangatsu, then waves it's paw dismissively, as if to say she's free to go as far as her legs take her. It dips it's head towards John, and does the same. But when it glares at Dr. Ward, Augustus Spotswood, and Alouette itself, it growls, and smashes a paw down on a spoke of the wagon wheel it perches on, cracking it more and more until, looking at Ward once more, it smashes the spoke clean through.

It's clearly a statement of intent, though the cougar has no means of speaking directly to the group.

John blinks, walkin' dead people first, twisted simpletons powered by hell, and now an owl that turns into a lion. He got the gist of what it was attempting to communicate and moved to gather up his master. "Gangatsu," he said as he hauled Xhang back from the wreckage. "Take Xhang." he would set his mentor down slowly and move to stand with those this beast clearly intended on threatening. The Dr. would likely be the only man capable of mending Xhangs hurts, never mind the fact that John was all too aware that they were in this situation helping him. He moved to stand near Alouette seemingly calm with his arms folded oddly in front of his chest. Instead of crossed like most would he held one above the other, palms open and facing downward. Alouette seemed to be challenging the thing, he wouldn't interfere, but he would make sure he could move to anyones defense if necessary.

"Ínsil! Kill her, blood-thirster, unless you are a lover of snakes also...eager for the world to burn." It points at Dr.Ward, though it doesn't look at him. "He is your blood-brother, if so...cannot make amends dead, your...people cannot face what awakens alone. River-thing, shiver...what harm has it done you? Are you spirit-blind...taken with the palefaces' invention of...colour as with their weapons? There is a once-man on this land...a Yankee...an infant thunderbird in his chest. Could save all."

There's a pause, static crackling as though something were desperately clawing at metal for power, then the automaton touches its chest. "The child confines...if it blows embers in blood you are welcome to sacrifice one of your young warriors to my...greater glory." Its tone suggests it thinks the big cat is the kind of man who might do that.

The metal 'beak' turns to John a moment - he might feel himself studied by something, an intelligence neither human nor anything to do with clockwork at all - then back to the cat on the wheel. "...or if you care for their existence...here, after...let us walk a little way and settle this between us before you are...just ten more dead Indians." It tilts its head sharply like a living bird, one bright-burning lens fixed on the eyes of the cougar.


[[...and the King of Spades is in play! Hawk spirit fails (2) to identify what to break to give it control without leeching its reserves, will start using pp next round if the duel is accepted]]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:57, Mon 13 Dec 2010.

some mood music

There is a sharp yowl at Alouette's words...there's a tone of repudiation, condemnation, and rage in that howl. The panther leaps into the air....and vanishes.

It reappears in the battlefield, away from the combatants. It begins to change again, this time the powerful sinews of the lion flowing into a human form, that of a silver-haired, middle-aged Comanche wearing an elaborate headdress made from owl feathers and a pale fringed-leather shirt adorned with the images of birds and stars and a crescent moon. Glowing yellow eyes burn as he regards Alouette. A pale aura of moonlight gathers around him, illuminating him. He leans on a spear.

"The world must burn with a cleansing fire, Crying Hawk." The man says in fluent, if accented, Cherokee. "For too long have the long knives brought sickness to the land. Can you not feel it, even in your captive state? The land must be purged. Brother Rattlesnake can heal the sickness, and bring much needed wisdom to the people. When it is freed, it will drive the pale faces to ruin. I warn you not to stand in my way, Crying Hawk. Come. We shall settle this."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:33, Tue 14 Dec 2010.

Alouette paces after the shaman with the uneven grace of a bird trailing a useless wing.

"You drink a full cup of poison...to cure a fever, little Ever-Fighter." It raises its head. "The burning will come...and God will roll the white man's works back from the earth...as a blanket is rolled...later. Fifty years. To start the Fire of Fires now...your kin...mine...choked in the smoke - all, all to ashes...and ruled by palefaces still, for they have learned to do this." It raises its brass hands as though showing wounds, clearly taking up position for some sort of challenge.

"Truth...earth-crawler might become a warrior then...as part of a Gatling gun."

Some Mood Music

"That is why we strike here, to destroy the workers of bad medicine and their science." The old man hisses the English word like a curse, as if it burned his tongue to say. "The crows whisper these tricks in their ears, feeds them knowledge that allows them to build iron paths and wires that speak. But like any tools, they can be turned against their creators."

He gestures to Ward. "I have watched this one for many days now. I have seen the paths he has carved into the Hunting Grounds to bring the spirits to him. I have seen the spirits he has called to watch over his cattle to protect them from sickness. It is bad medicine. The spirits remain, even when the cattle are slaughtered for meat. They can move to those who consume the flesh. They wait. And some they attack like trained hounds. Six long knives, colored blue, sickened with the white man's coughing plague from the bites of the serpent spirits he fed them." his eyes narrow at Alouette. "You would protect one who gives tainted blankets to his own people?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:32, Tue 14 Dec 2010.

The automaton turns its head from side to side as though trying to feel the wind, then crouches and pushes a handprint into the creekside earth due South, pacing cautiously a little way to do likewise due West. The protection of North and East it leaves to its opponent, if he wishes.

"Where a raven leads, there will be slaughter-" this seems to be a proverb. "-but birds make no warclubs. This one-" it also gestures at Dr.Ward "-is spirit-blind, cannot tell self from...cage. Perhaps he sees only that what he does helps his...cattle, but Mirror-Serpent speaks to him...grants power, uses him to its ends...a wave, lapping: if you love...snakes, you love him and his deeds also."

It makes its second handprint and straightens. "His...people? This white making that is 'colour'!" A brass hand flicks as though shucking ants from a feathertip. "Three goings of the sun I have been...awake and I know this: blue-coats are a different tribe. Long knives fear warpaint...coats of stripes and colours are in the place. Blue-coats are Yanqis, enemies of Ward's tribe...killed his mate and all his chicks...too young to fight, took his horses...I think he wishes to fight when the club is on the earth."

The metal construction clanks back to a point in its impromptu arena it seems satisfied with and raises its 'beak' sharply to regard the human opposite. "You clasp arms with the taint. You will gain no wisdom from food...except many ways to shit on the earth."

The remaining Comanches have by now dismounted and are gathering around the pair of combatants, watching them in fascination.

Pale Moon bends down, making a hand print in the mud to the north. "Where the raven leads, I shall follow. That is my vow, and the vow of my people. This one may strike at the Yanqui tribe now, but what about when the White Father in the East takes the medicine he has done and turns it against The People? There are many tribes of Pale Face, but none of them belong in this land."

He moves, and presses a hand into the East. "You say to love Mirror Serpent is to love this man and his works. I say that this man's works are his own doing, and Mirror Serpent only dreams power to him. When the Mirror Serpent wakens, he will see the mistakes he has made and correct them. Mirror Serpent did not cause the Yanqui war that killed this man's family. Mirror Serpent did not tell this man to fight while the club was on the ground. Mirror Serpent did not come to him and say, 'take these children of mine and taint your herd with them.' Mirror Serpent only dreams."

He sighs, and pulls a leather drum and stick from his belt. "Come, Crying Hawk." he says, as he begins to beat a rhythm. "Let us test the strength of our convictions. Let us dance in spirit war, and see which of us emerges stronger."

With that, he begins to sing in rhythm with the drum, his wailing cry taken up by his fellows.

Some Mood Music

Augustus, who has had a very hard last few days, continues to stumble away.  His sonic rifle is clutched to his chest.  He isn't running very fast, uneven ground keeps tripping him up.  But, with images of terrible demon mountain lions chasing him, he is spurred on...

OOC - Failed to Unshake and find it amusing.

The automaton spreads its arms with terrifying grace. There is no soft rustle of feathers, though it's hard not to expect.
"Where may spirits touch the minds of men, save in dreams?" A polished foot is laid carefully to earth. "A warning: draw from your soul, for few spirits - or your Snake - will aid you here."

With that, it bows/bobs like a bird and begins to dance.

John asked her to fish out Zhang and get him far away, but she couldn't. there was no way she could just carry him across the plains on her own, she wouldn't get far.

" John, The safest place for Sefu is to be is in the carriage. I won't risk him getting shot at. I'll be back, just stand yer vigil here.. " Gangatsu moved, her green eyes went tothe other riders, they stood back and waited, watched.. She moved over across the land over to the fallen body of Gus. he wasn't moving, but she could see he was breathing slightly..

" Gus..." She spoke quietly, nearing him.. " Gus..?" It was.. creepy, giving her an errie feeling she had no t felt in a while, but she knew he was alive. he had to be, the fellow was a quick healer..

Gus cracks one eye open at Gangatsu.

"Ow." He grunts. The injury to his side looks fairly bad and is bleeding freely, but he's stirring. "That really hurt." He looks around as best he can without actually moving. "What's goin' on? Injuns still tryin' to kill us?"

The old man matches Alouette, dancing as he chants, his old voice filled with rage, sorrow, and pain. His wailing cry speaks to the heavens themselves, growing in power as the aura of pale moonlight surrounding him grows brighter.

The only sound from the clank is the distant crash of static, moonlight flashing down its metal body to pool in the impressions left in the damp earth. Though its style of dance is markedly different to the plainsman's, its feet strike the ground so precisely with each thunderclap of the drum it's impossible to tell which comes first.

The automaton and the shaman continue their dancing, moving around each other slowly. The clank leaves moonlit footprints behind, and flickering eldritch sparks snap around its chassis. Distant thunder roars from the storm clouds in the distance.

The old man's wailing song tears at the hearstrings, sends shivers down the spine, and invokes the heaven. The moonlight aura grow brighter around him, casting every feature of his craggy, weathered face into sharp relief.

There is a strange feeling in the air, an anticipation. Hairs prickle on the necks and arms of those watching.

Augustus, fleeing the dance and the lions and the craziness, might liken the growing feeling to a building static charge. John Smith might liken the sensation to that which he draws on himself when he manipulates his chi. Gangatsu's thoughts flow back to that terrible day when she found her lover's remains. There was a feeling like this in the air then, too, like the eyes of the universe were watching, and someone somewhere had begun to laugh...

The automaton dances, static building with each step, the waves of sound starting to drown out even Pale Moon's song. Its grace is unearthly, its every movement inhumanly precise, a prayer of effort and will to exist danced as it was at the first sunrise of the melting ice. Danced long before men set foot on its continent. Danced for an audience of the sea and sky and Great Spirit alone.

The sparks, ever more frequent, begin to trace the outlines of feathers.

" Oh yea.. He got'cha good." The woman moved closer and knelt down near the fellow.

 " Their shaman apeeared, the machine challenged it to some kind o spirit walker duel. Their tribe seems ta believe the snake's a healer, like ya think, but they also want Ward's head. Said he's doing somethin wicked, but metal beak ain't havin that. " She looked up and around to the others by the coach and then the tribesmen on their steeds. " E'eryone's holdin fire, reckon til the match be o'er.. We need ta get ya over ta Doc... While he's alive.."

Pale Moon's song becomes strained as he tries to rasie it higher, and starts to go horse. Suddenly, there is a *CRACK!* as the static aura around Alouette seems to rise into the air and dive into the old shaman, who collapses.

There is silence for a moment. The other Comanches look on in shock at the fall of their leader.

Then they rush over to him, babbling worriedly. One helps the old man to his feet. He looks over at the clank.

"So. I see you are quite determined. Very well. You have earned the right to protect these men if you wish. We shall depart, for now." he says as he wipes a curl of blood from his nose. "I trust that you will prevent your paleface friends from shooting us in our backs."

With that, the group heads towards their horses. They move to pick up their wounded, though there is nothing they can do for the ones who had been set on by the crows, nor can they help the man Gus took down, though they still take the bodies with them.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:42, Mon 20 Dec 2010.

"I'll live." Gus grunts. "Won't enjoy it none for the next few days, I reckon, but I'll live."

He falls quiet as footsteps near the pair and the Comanches removes the body of the man Gus killed.

A silence falls over the camp as the riders leave.

The clank's 'beak' turns briefly to look at those called "friends". "A song of snakes, shaman: they care nothing for their young...for they come forth to the world with as much poison...as one grown."

Warning given, it approaches Dr.Ward still crackling with power, getting in the way of any shot he might make. A brass finger points at his chest.
"Repent."

...then the flare dies in its lenses and the static fades. Alouette looks at its extended finger with apparent curiousity, then around. It identifies part of its current aetheric patterning as similar to 'happy' and selects the response. It giggles like an eight-year-old girl, its laughter ringing out in the hush.

"Hmm..." it says, sounding suddenly vaguely Cajun in annoyance with something wrong. "Critical level static error...where is AUG-US-TUS?"

Augustus stumblbed a good bit away during all the hub-bub.  The shamanic duel, he seems to have missed out on.  Or ignored.  Instead, his attention, his manic focused attention, was instead given over to adjusting the dials on his box device and tapping his earpiece.  As though it was making some annoying, bothersome noise.  As the duel finds its end and the hawk spirit releases the automaton, the scientist seems to suddenly "fix" his device.  So working, he stands up and finally turns around...only to see the savages leaving.  "Thank goodness, apparently someone was able to reason with them....  That was entirely too exciting."

Watched the strange scene in silence and when it seemed all was said and done he moved to help Gangatsu with Xhang and would proceed to remain by his sifu's side until they reached safety, as relevant as the term might mean these days.

Dr. Ward mentions that the horses have gotten too far away to chase down in the dark, and suggests the group camp outside for the evening.

The coach is a total wreck, and is in no condition to move anywhere, though once righted it serves as a decent shelter. Ward tends to the immediate injuries among the group, but aside from Gus and the old Chinese man the party is remarkably healthy.

Augustus is able to scrounge up enough makeshift tools from the coach to complete his repairs on Alouette.

Ward examines Zhang, and does what he can to treat the old man, but there's little he can do in these conditions. The old man has an arrow wound that Ward says was poisoned, and the poison has been in his system long enough that his survival and recovery is solely up to his will and the will of God. Given he's survived this long, Ward estimates that he'll make at least a partial recovery as long as he's kept warm, at least until they can return to the ranch house and the more extensive supplies Ward keeps there.

Parts of the broken coach are salvaged for a fire, and the group spends an uncomfortable night roughing it.

Not being the sleeping kind and seeing no sheets in evidence, Alouette won't catch on to the fact people are tired/trying to sleep unless directly informed. It'll reassure Abraham and the unconscious Zhang that God will fix them and witter at people in general about anything passing through what approximates its mind. If it is told to go away, it will be important to mention how far.

This thread is now closed. Please resume posting on the 10.2 thread.