Cantrell looks at the plaster saint the machine handed him. He stares at it for quite a while in silence before looking up at the clank and the huckster.

"And then you done saved my life." he says to Jake. "You laid me out on the pew, reached into my guts, and pulled the bullet forth. I should be a dead man. Hell, I knew I was dead...crawled my ass here for one last confession afore I went. And then you pulled my miserable soul back from the brink."

He looks up at the cross. "You ever think that maybe, just maybe, he done did things for a reason? You think maybe you were spared their fate because he wasn't finished with you yet?"

"Witchcraft," Alouette responds evenly. It reaches to touch/gently bat the rosary, intrigued by the shine on the beads as they swing in the light. "Son, wife went to heaven; they are happy now, also safe: God shines on them. He is shiny."

It looks up at Jake, golden fingers tangled in the beads. "It is all right to be sad to be left when people go Home: mortals are. Mortals forget the Love that fought, conquered Death for them sometimes, because they read what was written and copied and changed, do not listen. If you want to go to Heaven too, you have to be a good person, not a witch. Alternate: you will never see wife, son, again." It tilts its head at him. "Do you love them, or what was buried?"

*tiktik* This seems to provoke a thought - it turns to the priest: "If something goes to heaven, is it damage?"

((OOC: Wildcat and Charging Bear, please move your posting on the Chapter 11.4 thread. Jake and Alouette, please continue posting here.))

"Don't speak of them, tin can" Jake cried out, spitting out the word like they tasted rancid. "You don't even think of my wife and boy." Then he did something he never thought he do, Jake pushed the self-proclaimed angel almost like a bully in a school yard.

OOC: IF rolls are needed
09:00, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 1,4 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. Fighting.
vs parry 4 is enough to touch
09:01, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 21 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+6+3)21. Strength.
One heck of a push....

((OOC: Alouette, make a Strength or Agility roll to resist being knocked over...you have to beat Jake's 21. I'll determine what happened based on how well (or poorly) you rolled.))

[[Agility 5!]]

The clank is overburdened by Jake's shove. It falls backwards, lands roughly on the floor...

...And suddenly there is a {BOOM!}

Alouette gets up and shakes itself cautiously. "Angel," it corrects.

"Did tilting self make you feel better, Jacob Lawrence?" it asks, with no sarcasm or derision at all (not that it knows how). "If yes, self will stand near until you are minus violence, minus sad. Teritary command: catch sparrows."

It looks towards the source of the explosion, as though it can see through all the walls in the way, then at the priest. "Is someone having a legal dispute?"

Rather O'Rourke bounds up, ready to deliver a scolding...but Alouette seems unhurt by the push, so the words die unsaid.

Then there is the explosion, and Aloutte's question seems to completely stump him for a moment.

"Er, no...well...yes, I suppose that...that would be one way to describe it..."

Cantrell stands, grimacing and clutching his belly wound. "We should be out there." he says. "We ought to be hunting down them Jellicle bastards, instead of standing here yelling about the dead and buried past."

"Wait a moment now...if that's the Ranger gettin' blowed up," Jesse says, "I say we done stay out o' the way. Let her get herself kilt. Ain't our problem, and she's got it comin' for those big britches she's been wearin'."

"You're dumber than a sack of hammers, ain't ya?" Cantrell sneers. "You think you got it bad with just one ranger here? Wait until word gets out that a band of outlaws took her down. You don't know what hell is until you've seen a whole mess o' Rangers descend on a place lookin' to avenge one o' their own. They'll tear through you and your dumbass friends like a hurricane through a cardboard box!"

"And maybe they don't need to hear nothin'." Jesse growls. "Maybe they don't hear nothin' cause someone sewed your nigger lips together."

Cantrell's eyes narrow. "Are you threatenin' me, boy?"

"Seems to me you done already lost one gunfight today." Jesse spits back. "Care to make it a second?"

"ENOUGH!" Roars the preacher, stepping in between the two. "Not another ill word from either of you! Have you forgotten where you are? THIS IS THE HOUSE OF GOD!" He whirls and points a finger at Jake. "And you! You consort with powers best left undisturbed, you deny the chance to save your soul, you push around innocent creatures still learning about the world, yet have the gall to ask for pity!? For shame, sir! For shame!"

The boom got Jake's attention, the rest was a bit of a blur. Sure he knew that the trio of men were arguing about what to do but for some reason he didn't really seem to care. It was Father O'Rourke's voice that brought him back to 'reality'.

"Never claimed to be a saint Father... I use that consorting to help those that might not had another option. But you're right about my being wrong about my actions towards Alouette." Jake said quietly as he looked from the priest to the clank. "I'm sorry for the shove, my wife and son are a sensitive topic and I shouldn't have even brought them up. I have my demons to deal with which are best left between me and God." His right hand worked the rosary that hung from his wrist, a well practice motion.

"Allow them choice, Jake Lawrence," Alouette cuts in before it's addressed. "To commit witchcraft, wickedness for others gives them the guilt of your self-destruction, causes plus harm than that which ends at death. Mortals have will: this is sacred."

Noting that he wishes for at least some forgiveness, the automaton raises a hand, palm towards him, and bestows one of its patched-together blessings:
"O Lord, who hast mercy upon all, take away the sins of this man and mercifully kindle in him the fire of the Holy Spirit. Take away from him the heart of stone: give him a heart of flesh to love, adore, and delight in the Lord and Creation, and to follow in Christ's path."

"..."

"Demons should go behind you, not between you and God, Jake Lawrence," it finishes gently.

"Get behind Me, Satan. You are an offense to Me, for you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men.?" Jake quoted back to the tin can's simple statement.

"Yes, like that," Alouette chirps. "Say that to other demons also."

Then to the bristling Jesse: "Sit. Repent."

And to Cantrell: "Lie down. Feet of Cantrell do not have independent function - blood is required elsewhere. Texas Ranger Ranger Hawkins is not exploded," it says with strange (angelic?) certainty.

To the priest, it asks: "What is Jellicle, britches, nigger? Why are hammers plus dumb inside a sack?"

The huckster shook his head, he'd heard words like that before... from his son. Something in him wanted to just go sit down on the church pew and cry like a little baby, but he didn't as something else in him told him he didn't have time for it and there was more to do here than cry about the past.

The priest nods. "I understand. Better than you know. I wasn't always a priest, after all. But don't let your demons churn about."  He pauses while Alouette speaks it's piece. he seems amused by the clank's prayer. "Well...I suppose that sums things up well. Well done, Alouette." He lays a hand on Jake's shoulder. "The angel is right. God is waiting for you to put your demons behind you. He's waiting for you to talk with him."

When the clank moves near Jesse, he crawls as far as he can to get away from the thing's touch. "Y-y'all just keep away from now, you hear?"

When Alouette asks the priest what certain words mean, he frowns. "I don't know what a Jellicle is. Sounds like a name to me. Britches are pants...a piece of cloth to cover one's legs and rear. And nigger is  a horrible word that people should not say, especially to people of color." He shoots a glare at Jesse.

Jericho Cantrell moves over to Jake's side. He pulls on of his giant, bladed pistols. "Hey. You there." he says. "You saved my life, and I know my debts. Here." He holds the gun out, butt first. "I want you to take this. Go find the sonovabitch that nearly killed me. I wish I could go with you, but the machine is right. I'm still too busted up to fight. So I'd like you to go in my stead. Go help Miss Hawkins and the Marshal take that bastard down."

He looked at the massive weapon that Cantrell offered him and tilted his head slightly. Where have I seen that style of weapon before? his mind inquired of his memory.  Jake took the weapon from the bounty hunter and almost dropped it due to being so unaccustom to such a hefty pistol. "You just play nice with everyone else, can't say it would look too good on me if I leave and y'all just go and start shooting up the church."

As he stood,  Jake looked to the Priest, "Think you can keep order here with Alouette while I see what's going on at the jail?"

OOC:
08:09, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 5,3 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3. Know(Occult).
assuming the padre is okay with him leaving, Jake will go join the battle royale at the jail, but not before he hunchs the gun of course.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:23, Fri 07 Oct 2011.

In reply to Jake Lawrence (msg #223):

The preacher nods. "I may have to break out a lasso, but I think I can manage."

As far as Jake can determine, the gun is a modified LeMat pistol affixed with a bowie knife blade that acts as a bayonet instead of a shotgun bore. But the design seems based on a Texas legend about something called a Hanging Judge, a ghost of a corrupt judge that hunts down lawbreakers and murders them, hanging them from the nearest tree with their crimes carved into their foreheads for all to see. Supposedly these ghosts have guns affixed with scythes as bayonets.

((OOC: Gun stats: Modified LeMat pistol (12/24/48; 2d6+1; RoF 1; Shots 9; AP 1; Single Action), bayonet (str+d4). It's fully loaded.))

Alouette logs the new vocabulary. "What are people with no colours called?"

"Logic error, Jesse Hohlfeld: self is here, now," Alouette responds to him, then hears that the priest wants a lasso and patters off to resume the fetching of Things.

Father O'Rouke will soon find it at his side offering him a thick cord. "Self found rope," it chirps, then looks back at the tensed line behind it. "Why is it attached to the ceiling?"

David Baines didn't know what the hell to make of it all. He really wasn't. too much had happened in too little time.

He should be dead. He should be dead twice over. That psycho Ranger bitch should have filled him full of holes for the shit he'd done earlier trying to get her killed. She hadn't. And he'd helped her. Helped!

The world had gone crazy the last few days. Too many fights. Too many friends gone. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He hauled Bill down the street, ignoring the gunfire and explosions. Let them sort it all out. Let them kill each other. He was done with it. He'd sobered up in record time, and now his head was killing him, but he was done with it. He'd nipped and pushed, and every time he'd been slapped down. Well, no more.

Dave's wounded hand throbbed, reminding him of his failures. Bill's insensible form wore on him, dragging him down. He'd had to hit Bill. He was sure the nutjob in the scarf would have killed him, like he'd done with the nigger back at the bar, or the other deputy after. So Dave had given Bill an Earp.

Now he dragged the man toward the church. Maybe he ought to do some prayin' while he was there. Seemed to have done Bill some good.

((OOC: I have the horrible suspicion Dave's mind is going to snap like a twig when he gets to the church and sees all the dead people there...))

As he took a closer look at the gun, Jake's brain pulled forth the info he though he knew and confirmed his suspicions. Without much additional thought, Jake's picked up his feet and headed towards the jail seeing as that was where the town was going boom at the moment.

As Jake hustles down the streets, he notices a stocky man in cowboy gear moving towards the church, the limp form of Deputy Bill McCoy draped over his back...and just at that moment, the chuchbell starts ringing.

Jake watched the man, debating in his head what course of action he should take. Deputy McCoy had been at the jail with him but now was being carried like a sack of potatoes towards the church. The huckster moved towards the cowboy, being sure to have his deputy badge visible. "What's going on?" he inquired.

In reply to Alouette (msg #225):

"Generally they are called white." The priest says.

He looks faintly alarmed when Alouette brings the bell to him. "That's not attached to the ceiling, it's for the..."

{BONG!}

"...church bell." he finishes.

In reply to Jake Lawrence (msg #229):

The cowboy looks at Jake, sees the deputy badge, and glares at him. "Got pistol whipped back there doin' the job you should've been, deputy. Why you here an' not there?"

Alouette's heels strike sparks off the floor as it's dragged back by the rope. Recovering its balance, it looks up, somehow conveying amazement at the magic bell-ringing properties of Ceiling Rope then over at the priest.

"Should self replace bell rope where discovered?" it inquires.