He couldn't believe what was happening to him...couldn't understand it. He struggled. He tried to struggle - tried to stop.

In reply to Adrian Vega (msg #88):

The ghostly bullets slam through Evans. One takes his hat, one grazes his shoulder, and one cuts through his coat.

He stumbles, then turns, glaring at Adrian, hand with that strange pistol shaking. "Just what in the nine flaming circles of Hell are you doing, sir!?"

((OOC: The first soul blast will make Evans Shaken but not injured. the second hits but does jack for damage. The third, however, is enough to actually wound.

So Evans will spend one of his chips for a soak roll.

22:03, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 5,11 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,(6+5)11. Soak Roll. That passes with flying colors. Evans isn't even hurt.

))

"Oh, shit!" he called out, not really knowing what to say. In truth, he didn't even really know what just happened. "Accident," he said loudly enough for the man to hear him. Losin' my touch, he thought, feeling an inexplicable sense of despair welling up within him. He remembered what Gabby said about only having to worry about that when he got old, but he didn't know what else it could be.

Holding his gun down, he moved to catch up with the man that he had just involuntarily shot at. "I'm awful sorry about that."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:19, Tue 11 Oct 2011.

"You ain't been listening too good." Rum says. "I'm expendable, Kitten. I'm just a gun. But y'all'll be mighty disappointed if you think that just because I'm going down, all of us will. I'm a dead man no matter what you do. But McCavity? Jenny? You won't be able to touch 'em. Not even if they shot up a school house and you could summon the ghosts of the little children to testify against them. They have friends in high place...friends who are friends with judges, senators, and the other very, very wealthy. The State of Texas may not forgive me, but it will bend over backwards and suck McCavity's dick. Just you watch. You might as well shoot them now and save yourself the heartache, Kitten."

The dapper gentleman enters the room.

"Why, Bustopher Jones, as I live and breathe!" Rum grins. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah!" The man says with a faint smile. "Mr. Tugger! Good to see you again, though I see you've found yourself in...less than ideal circumstances. As for why I'm here, well, I'm a business man. I travel where the customers are. But you? Were you satisfied with your purchases?"

"Oh, I loved that gun. Prettiest little iron I ever did own. That dynamite you sold me didn't do to well, though."

"Five years of storage will do that to any nitroglycerin-based explosive. I do recall mentioning the shelf-life to you when you purchased it."

"Couldn't be helped. I spent a few years in jail before I could get to it, and by the time I did, well, this bank was closed down anyhow. I only found a use for it just now."

"Pity. But since you tried to blow me and Miss Hawkins here sky high just now with that same explosive, I beleive I have indirectly benefited from your misfortune, so I can't say I'm too broken up about it."

Rum frowns. "Well, fuck you too, Jones."

The stranger turns to Wildcat. "So. Two villains left? That is worrying. Though I may have something in my inventory to assist you with that."

"Oh stick a cork in it ya low down snake-"  Wildcat began lecturing the assassin to just shut up at this point, but she did that herself when she heard their conversation.

Wildcat couldn't believe what she's hearing.  Her blue eyes went wide.

"You.  Sold.  Him.  Dynamite!  Just. Look. At. Him!  You know. Good and well. Just lookin'. At 'im. No good. Would come from it!"

The odd pauses in her speech were accentuated by harmless but annoying strikes with her hat about the salesman's head and neck, for she lacked any other expedient ineffective flail.

"What in tarnation else is wrong with you?  Look it don't matter, get in that corner feller, 'n hunker down, 'twixt you an 'im ah don't think ah can much go nowhere."

Wildcat faced the problem of the cabbage, the sheep and the wolf.  She couldn't leave these two alone together.  He'd already done something bizarre to her in exchange for nothing, who knows what he'd do for Rum Tum Tugger who was probably willing to promise him the moon right now.

Taking either of them along was obviously inappropriate as well, technically this crazy man hadn't actually done anything, but she would have plenty of questions later, questions she did not care to ask in front of Rum Tum Tugger.  As much as she wanted to come to their aid, she realized the Marshal and the Deputy were on their own.

OOC:  Because I'm basically stuck here with these two guys, can't leave them alone with each other, and I dare not leave RTT alone lest one of the other Jellicles come free him, and I can't march a bystander around a very dangerous crime scene unless it's to take him away from it.  The plan is to make them stand in that interior room in opposite corners (so RTT is as far from the bystander as possible while at the same time WC is on the opposite side of the room, so she can see them just fine but if anyone attacks it will be at her).

Waiting in the wings until this one wraps up unless something else happens.

Charging Bear wanders around the upstairs looking for a safer way down than just jumping out the window.

OOC:
12:17, Today: Charging Bear rolled 2,11 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+5)11. Notice.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #93):

Considering the crude tripwire Charging Bear just discovered in the hallway near the stairwell, connected to a stick of dynamite, climbing out the window is beginning to seem like the reasonable option. Still, the trap is crude and might easily have failed even if he'd tripped it, but the discovery is the sort of thing that makes one jumpy...if it HAD gone off, it might have taken the three sticks he was already carrying it with it.

"Sorry!?" The marshal sputters. "Sorry!? I could have been killed!" He picks up his hat, dusts it off. "And look what you did to my..."

Then HE looks at what the bullet did to his hat. Not a thing. No hole. Evans stops his tirade. He looks at the hat, looks at Adrian, then back to the hat, then back to Adrian. He frowns.

"So. Ghostly bullets. You wouldn't, perchance, happen to be a student of Hoyle, would you?"

He looked around before answering to ascertain that there wasn't anyone around his shoulder before responding to the gentleman. "As an avid reader and a afficionado of games o' chance, I do in fact have possession of a book by the said gentleman," he said carefully, enunciating each word more than he usually did when he spoke. Of course, there wasn't much point to keeping it on the down low now. This man obviously knew what he was about, but he was more accustomed to keeping such things on the quiet as best as he could.

"Are you by chance another such student?" he asked.

"I thought as much." The man sighs. "No, no I'm afraid not. But I have had...dealings with such students, enough to be aware of the 'accidents' that can befall them." he holds out a hand. "I apologize for my rudeness. I am Dr. Ambrosius Botticelli Evans, late of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and currently serving as the Acting Marshal of Blackthorn."

Looking over the crude trap, Charging Bear made sure that he could cut the wire without causing anything going boom. They're going to blow us all up if there is much more of this dynamite about. If he manages to disable to trip wire he puts the stick of dynamite with the trio he already has and slowly starts down the stairs.

OOC: Not sure of the roll for this so going w/ Smarts and Survival as bobby traps are common tools for hunters
12:57, Today: Charging Bear rolled 2,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,4. Smarts.
12:57, Today: Charging Bear rolled 2,15 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+6+3)15. Survival.

Adrian took his hand and shook it, listening as the man introduced himself. He tried not to show his surprise too much upon the revelation that the man he had been trying to protect turned out to be the Marshal himself. "Well, I 'pologize for the 'accident' earlier, Marshal" he said. "I'm Adrian Vega. Don't have no titles or nothin' but I grew up in Blackthorn when I was a young'n, and I just came back after hearin' 'bout how things are shakin' up down here."

"I'd like a word at some point, but this ain't the time nor the place for more words, I think. There's prolly some people up in this here buildin' that you need to lock up or put down," he said.

"If you need a hand, I don't mind comin' with."

Robert moves (through the walls) closer, so he can hear the conversation.  He recognized Wildcat's voice, but the other two weren't familiar.  Still, Wildcat might be looking for the injured, so he stayed close by.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #92):

Rum Tum Tugger starts laughing again at Wildcat's reaction. "Aw, Kitten, we cross?"

The salesman takes the hat battering without so much as blinking. When she's finished, he replies, "I'm a salesman. My business is bringing the finest quality goods at the lowest possible prices to those who wish to acquire them. What they proceed to do with such goods is on their own consciences."

He placidly takes his seat, then says, "As long as you aren't going to be leaving anytime soon, why not discuss a little business yourself? I have a few small wares on me that might be of interest to you, at prices that will fit any budget."

The tripwire snaps with nary a spark, and now the way downstairs is clear...at least, from the top.

"Don't ya'll just beat all!?  Ah'd rather eat a cactus then listen ta ya'll jabberin' on.  Mister Jones yer nuttier 'n Auntie Fran's Christmas fruitcake, what is wrong wit' ya ta want to be tradin' at a time like this?"

Wildcat remembers the way she seemed to disappear, to fade from the world, when he touched her.  She shudders at the thought, she didn't like the idea of whatever that was having touched her.  But she also calmed down a bit.

"Look feller ah appreciate ya helpin' back there... ah reckon... but that were... were somethin' wrong with it.  I reckon ya were tryin' ta help only way ya knew how, but ah wouldn't ask fer it again after seein' that.  And ya peddle explosives ta crazy people, ain't no business ah wants to trade in.  Ah done already seen two things provided by yerself, an they both come wit' a kind of trouble ah don't want.  Now I need you to wait and hunker down and be quiet, you'll be out sellin'... whatever it is you sell... real soon."

In reply to Adrian Vega (msg #99):

The marshal pauses and considers. "I may, indeed, wish some help...but I feel compelled to warn you that this may be very, very dangerous. I have lost three deputies in the last two days, and I am not sure if the other deputies I dispatched are injured or not. I may be going to my death. I cannot ask you in good conscience to follow me unless you are certain you can assist. I want no more blood on my hands."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #103):

"There is nothing wrong with the desire for commerce. There are always people in need of quality goods, and I have the means and willingness to get those goods to those people. Times of trouble are always good for business. Or do you also denounce those patriotic souls who braved the Union blockades to bring custom to this young country?"

The man gives her a faint smile. There nothing in his accent to indicate where, exactly, he's from, and he certainly doesn't look much like a patriot. More like a vulture in human form, if a handsome one.

"Are you very sure you won't at least take a look at my wares before you refuse my offer? As you observed, I'm willing to sell to anyone. Some of the objects in my inventory could be put to dastardly uses by those who do not share your morals or purity of spirit. The Dust Adders, for instance, or the Enlightened Society of the Weeping Moon. I'm giving you the opportunity to inspect my wares, and the privilege of first refusal."

He leans back in his chair.

"Of course, the choice is yours."

That remark was... quite disturbing.  Wildcat wasn't sure she'd elevate herself like that, and saw it as an appeal to her pride and hubris, which was long since demolished by Blackthorn, but the fact he knew to do it meant he knew a lot more than he really should.

"Con sarn it ya idjit, ah got nothing 'gainst a feller makin' an honest buck but we's under siege in here!  Ain't no time for shoppin'!  They's two more 'n him out thar at least! 'ventually either Evans or Deputy Bear or someone else who ain't none too friendly's gonna catch up wit' us, an' wit' ya'll two tied ta mah ankles t'ain't nothin' ah can do but listen fer 'splosions 'n gunfire!"

A horrible thought crossed Wildcat's mind.  She stared hard at this bizarre peddler.  And she suddenly felt much better about keeping him here away from the other two, who were in God knows what kind of mess.

"Ya didn't... oh you better not have mister, if'n you did, you ain't 'bout to be none too happy if'n ah found out you did.  But we'll sort that out later, you just keep them hands where I can see 'im.  You better believe we'll look at swappin'."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:04, Wed 12 Oct 2011.

"Well, the sooner this thing is over the better," he said. "I'll follow your lead, Marshal."

Looking down the stair case, Charging Bear began wishing he had some backup. Never know unless you try right? he thinks as he slowly starts down the stairs, taking care to check for any more surprises.

OOC:
08:56, Today: Charging Bear rolled 7,5 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+1)7,5. Notice.

In reply to Charging Bear:

He was right to be worried...there was, in fact, another tripwire at the bottom of the stairs. The sticks were set close enough to set each other off. It's impressive that they managed to set this sort of killing ground in the hour or so since CB was locked here...that's all it's been since he was let free to follow the dead boys. The attack against this place couldn't have happened too long after the other fellow, the one with the new, arrived that the church...it might have even happened just as he left.

---

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #100):
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:48, Wed 12 Oct 2011.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #106):

"Ah. A valid point. Very well, then. I shall wait. Given how quiet it's been, however, I would speculate that the shooting is all but over. One way or another, things are settled."

He blinks at her ramble. "I'm not sure I followed that, Miss Hawkins." He says, then shrugs and reaches into his vest pocket to pull a pack of cards. He shuffles it, then starts playing some obscure variant of solitaire Wildcat isn't familiar with. His cards are strange, too...they have lots of pictures on them, small roman numerals in place of numbers, and depict things like wands, cups, swords, and sticks rather than the suits she is familiar with.

In reply to Adrian Vega (msg #107):

The marshal nods. "Very well. Help me examine this door...there may be some sort of trap, if the large explosion from the rear is any indication."

[[OOC: Make a Notice or Investigation roll.]]

Adrian closely examine the door without touching it. He even knelt to get a better look at the knob, and looked at its edges carefully for signs of tampering.

---

OOC:

Notice: 7

14:02, Today: Adrian Vega rolled 7,4 using d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (4+3)7,4. Notice.