Late afternoon, April 11th, 1879. Blackthorn, Texas. Good Friday.

---

'When?' said the moon to the stars in the sky
'Soon' said the wind that followed them all

'Who?' said the cloud that started to cry
'Me' said the rider as dry as a bone

'How?' said the sun that melted the ground
and 'Why?' said the river that refused to run

and 'Where?' said the thunder without a sound
'Here' said the rider and took up his gun
--"The Rider #1", Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

---

Robertson's Laundry, on the outskirts of town

"Salllll-eyyyyyyy! Dinner's ready!"

The little girl with brown hair and a checkered blue-and-white dress looked up from her position, trying to coax the recalcitrant ball or orange fluff from beneath the porch. "Just a minute, mommy! Dandelion got out!" She called back.

"mew!" came a plaintive cry.

"Dandy! Here, pretty kitty! Here kitty, kitty, kitty!" the little girl called. "Please, come on out! I'm sorry I tried to dress you up n' stuff. Please come out!"

The little orange tabby did no such thing. In fact, it seemed to crawl even deeper into the shadows.

"Aww..." Sally pouted. "Come on, Dandy!" This clearly was not working. "Do you want me to get Mr. Nice Savage Indian Man an' Mr. Tin Woodman? Would that get you to come out?"

"hisssssssssssssssssss!"

"Now, Dandelion, don't be like that!" Sally pouted again. "You know you're not supposed to do that. You're supposed to be a good little..." A shadow fell over her. The little girl looked up. "...kitty?"

"YEOOOOOWWWWWWEEEEELLLLL!!!!"

"AIEEEEEEEEEE*--

Meanwhile, at the Makeshift Jail...

The victorious posse enters the building, searching warily for the last assassin. They find Wildcat and her charges instead...

---

Meanwhile, at the Church...

As Bill recovers from the whack to the head, Cantrell decides to help him back to the jail.

The crazy clank is left to it's own devices...

---

((OOC: Continue on from the "Bullet From Rum Tum Tugger" and "confessions of a Dirty Scoundrel" threads. Assume the group at the door has moved inside and has met up with Wildcat...post your actions for the last ten minutes here.))
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:44, Sat 15 Oct 2011.

Alouette, not instructed not to let everyone wander off, happily continues to fetch things as promised.

OOC:  Assuming all the Jellicles are present.

Internally, Wildcat is tremendously relieved and wants to be ecstatic.  But in front of her two wards, she dare not show it.

"Marshal Evans, Deputy Bear, Deputy Lawrence, ya'll got no idea how glad ah am ta see ya'll."  She looks at the newcomer, and then at the other newcomer known as Jones or the salesman or something, and wonders, but no one's been holding this other feller at gunpoint.

"We ain't out of th' woods yet.  We need ta get these three ornery critters contained 'gain, an' I encountered this feller wandering th' halls, claims ta be sellin' somethin', I want his story.  Someone had ta help them do this ah reckon.

"Ah tell ya one thing, ah'm searchin' that vault myself this time 'fore they go back in thar.  They done got the dynamite from it somehow.  But first prior'ty is a couple of us stay here and do a real good down to the skivvies search o' them all, an' the rest need ta find Deputy Fuller, and sweep the whole place fer more traps.  Also there be a satchel' o' dyn'mite down th' hall, a good deal of it might'a gone bad but ah reckon th' whole mess can't be harmless."

"And Deputy McCoy. We should be searching for him as well...see what we can do for the poor man." Evans says. Apparently no one has informed him that McCoy was being taken to the church.

Evans looks over at Adrian Vega."Since we are shot-handed, I'd like to offer you a position as deputy, if you are interested. I warn you that the position is incredibly dangerous. But since you're a native of Blackthorn, I'm hoping adding you to our forces will help win the rest of the town over."

Evans then looks over at Jake. "I thought it was your job to search the vault. How did this happen?"

Wildcat holds up her hand.  "Let's be careful 'bout not pointin' fingers just yet Marshal, but we'll hafta figger it out or they'll just do this again.  As fer Deputy McCoy, one of them Adders done snuck in here an' pulled him out, ain't sure how that happened, but ah don't think th' Adder was much inclined to be in league with those three from how he traded words wit' me.  But ah wanna jaw at th' Adder too, figger out how this went down."

Wildcat looks to Deputy Lawrence at this point as well.  "Ah sent him wit' th' Deputy to th' church, always need a fallback point fer this kinda thing... didja see 'em?  And whar's Deputy Clank?  Why ain't th' little feller wit' ya?  He ain't got a lick of sense, can't leave him be alone."

Wildcat wondered who this Johnny Come Lately was too, but four or five things at a time was enough.

"Well, I done come back to Blackthorn as I heard things was gettin' tore up down here," he said slowly, "and I thought as maybe I could lend a hand to settin' things right. I suppose bein' a Deputy is prolly the best way to do that, and maybe help y'all get some good will back in the town."

"Sure, I'll take that job," he said. Growing up, he never would have imagined being a lawman would be his vocation one day, but such things happened in life.

He took off his hat, and held it in the crook of his elbow and said to the woman, "Ma'am, as we haven't had the pleasure, I'm Adrian Vega," he said, extending a hand.

Ma'am?  Has this place done aged me that much?  Then 'gain, ah do look like hell every time ennyone done seen me lately.

"Sir ah reckon you'll pardon me fer not bein terr'bly sociable, given th' circumstances."  Wildcat has learned to shake hands in a most inappropriately masculine fashion, none of that extending the fingertips business, suggesting someone who's experienced a very skewed gender ratio for the a good part of her life.

"Private Wildcat Hawkins, Texas Ranger.  Ah feel right sorry for ya if this'n yer spread round here Mister Vega, Ah only come here ta find out what done happen'd ta th' circuit judge only that done come a cropper.  This here's a mess like I ain't never seen."

Wildcat studied the man, looking for signs of trail dust and other tell-tale signs of a ranch hand.  Was he one of them?

"Ain't one to be an ingrate Deputy Vega but are ya'll one of them dust snakes?  Only ask because it seems darn near every man here is."

Upon her introduction, Adrian looked very impressed that he was speaking to a genuine Texas Ranger, unconsciously straightening his posture. If he thought anything of her handshake, it didn't show on his face. "My daddy was a miner down here back when things was still runnin', an' so was I for a spell, till I up and left town. Mama was a school teacher back in that day too. Anyhow, if you're askin' if I'm one o' them folks as I've heard called Dust Adders, well that ain't me," he said.

"We didn't have no Dust Adders when I lived here - course, that was back when there weren't no ranch neither, just the ol' mine. I only jus' been back a day, really."

"Well ah wouldn't hold it against ya if'n ya were, jus' like ta know who everyone is, not everyone sees fit to pin it upon their breast as ah do.  Ah will beg your pardon in advance sir, Marshal Evans is of course yer superior but seein' as ah believe ah'm still th' only law dog in town that knew and bothered ta bring wrist irons, which yon sorry polecat is wearin' presently, ah take certain professional liberties an' make a few assumptions 'bout who ah'm workin' with.

"I suggest Marshal Evans 'n Deputy Lawrence begin processin' th' suspects in here since th' Marshal will have to catalog the evidence ennyway, ah'll handle what passes fer a lady 'round here when ah get back.  Remember what ah said?"

Wildcat points to her own hair pin she'd used to show Evans how inmates possessing even innocuous items could be problematic just a day before.  "Don't leave 'em nothin'.  Deputy Bear, Deputy Vega, the rest of this buildin' is done likely ta explode, we need ta search it fer 'splosives 'n Deputy Fuller, then check that vault again real good.  Ah found some keys on th' suspect, need ta find out what they go to.  Ah know it seems hateful ta say but need ta go by th' book an' done get these three contained again, first priority, they're like an albatross 'round our neck."

Wildcat looks back to the curious peddler.  "An don't think ah'm done wit' ya'll just yet, you keep it in yer pants until ah am reasonably sure this buildin' is cleared of things that could kill folks."

"Very well. I'll remain here, quiet as you please." The gentleman in the dapper black suit says. "Although if you are lacking in law enforcement gear, I just so happen to have something that will interest you."

He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out three shiny pairs of handcuffs. He lays them out on the table.

"Here we are. The very latest in restraint technology. Absolutely guaranteed to hold even the strongest or most cunning criminal. Harry Houdini himself could not escape these locks, and they can be yours for the paltry sum of $1.75 per pair."

((OOC: None of you have heard of a "Harry Houdini"...he'd be about 5 years old as of 1879))

Alouette continues to gather Things whilst the priest and Danny discuss the latter's various spiritual burdens, oblivious. In addition to the hoe, gnome, bucket, broom, surplice, chicken, candles etc. it has managed to locate and comandeer:

- six tin cans
- a tin bath (rusted)
- a watering can
- a spittoon
- a rocking chair (complete with pillows and genteely snoring shawl-clad grandmother)
- a tin of half-congealed varnish
- some nice specimens of tumbleweed (two large, one small)
- a section of advertising hoarding
- one rather ripe dead mouse
- one rather chewed old bone
- one still-warm fruit pie
- two horseshoes
- a small wooden wheel
and
- $0.15 in small change

Remaining quiet, Jake spent his time observing the recently arrived sales man who was not there when left to head to the church just minutes earlier. His eyes occasionally shifted to look at whatever good the man had on display, but something didn't sit right with Jake about this magically appearing gent.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #10):

Charging Bear smiles and holds up the various sticks of dynamite he's already found. "There are a few sticks to be found here Ranger. Not sure how they managed to rig up some much so quickly, but yeah I'll start looking around for more. At the rate I found it, we could start a mining company." Pointing to the rather nice gunbelt and pistol, he says, "If no one objects I'll be holding on to this, as they're far superior to the pistol I got at the general store."

"Well, then, Deputy Vega. Welcome to the force." Evans says, holding out his hand for the man to shake.

"Good lord." Evans mutters at the sight of CB's stack of dynamite. He glares at Jake. "You have not yet answered my question, Mr. Lawrence. You were entrusted with the vital task of searching the vault, specifically to prevent this very thing from happening. You were entrusted with a duty, which you have grossly failed at. How could you possibly think leaving these murderous criminals alone with a case of dynamite was in any way a good idea?"

"If I may interrupt..." The gentleman in the dapper suit says. "It seems to me that none of you could have known what was hidden in the vault downstairs. Just as none of you could have known that the gentleman with the long scarf had a key to one of those boxes. Recriminations are not helpful. Could any of you have broken into the safety deposit boxes downstairs? Perhaps you could have, given time. But time seems to be in short supply for you all, and I have a feeling that lack will only grow as you continually hop from one crisis to another. I could save you all some of that precious time, if you'd only ask."

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #15):

Giving the local marshal a look that told him you thought he was mad, loony, or bonkers probably wasn't the best thing to do, but that was exactly what Jake did. "I believe you never asked such a thing of me. You were using that vault to hold Running Badger here before I even knew you were the law in these parts." then the salesman rang in. Jakes eyes shifted to him and narrowed as the man went on about how they didn't know anything about what was hidden in the vault below.

"You're right. I didn't. Ranger Hawkins, however, did. And you can leave Deputy Charging Bear out of this. The charges against him are false, and I was simply holding him to forestall trouble. He is not a troublemaker, and as soon as we have some evidence to exonerate him he will be free to leave. The same cannot be said of the others, as they have already demonstrated."

It hit Jake like a ton of bricks, he had looked through the vault top to bottom end to end. He'd found mostly nothing, a few bits of coin and other what not but nothing that would've suggested dynamite was hiding behind those safe deposit doors.

"You're right Marshal, and I did search the vault. Found mostly dust and dirt, but six of the boxes were locked."

Evans nods. "Well, I suppose our strange new friend is right. A box like that wouldn't have been much of an issue...without a key. Which means two things. One, we need to figure out where he got that key from. And two, we need to get those other boxes open, so we don't have any more surprises."

He looks at the Generous Salesman. "And I find it curious that you have so much knowledge on this subject. Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Oh, I'm from here and there, now and then." The salesman says airily.

"That isn't an answer."

"I'm here to do business, and I've passed through Blackthorn before. Does that answer your question?"

James smirked, it was a wicked looking thing upon his face but it suited him well. "Charging Bear, could I please borrow one of those ticks of dynamite for a moment? I promise to return it ... unharmed." Charging Bear agreed and handed Jake a stick. The huckster took a moment and looked over the deadly little stick.

OOC: Oh why not, hunch time!
15:22, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 7,1 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,1. SpellCasting (Hunch).

Meanwhile, Alouette has added an old (fortunately empty) hornets' nest, what looks like a coffin handle, a somewhat perished rubber ball, a solitary rollerskate and a collection of various-sized rocks and bits of brick it presumably considers interesting to its gathering of Things.

[[just so's you know.]]

OOC:  I'm lost, did the rest of us go search the building or are we all still standing in the same room?

Jake fiddles with his cards, laying them out on the table.


((OOC: I'm assuming we've moved the prisoners to a different room, but are now discussing things amongst ourselves before the search begins.))

"Ah don't want nothin' you got there, feller.  But yer deduction is right on th' money."  Wildcat informs the salesman.

"Well Marshal, that page ah gave ya ought to exonerate Deputy Bear from any reasonable accusation.  Puttin' it all together, th' only question is who done come and give 'em the key?" Wildcat shows it in her hand.

"Of course if that Tugger feller had it the whole time, it could explain why they came 'long wit' me 'stead of fightin'."

He shook the Marshal's hand. Deputy Vega. Has a good sound to it, he thought, looking over the scene. Of all things, he was most intrigued by the man who seemed to be a salesman.

"Well, what now, Marshal?" he asked. "We got all them folks as was shootin' up the town. I s'pose we should be haulin' them off to the lock up." He then remembered the decimated ruins of the jail that he had hidden in.  "We still got one o' them?"

"Fellah, yer in th' lockup.  That there vault downstairs is all we done got fer it."

"I'm not so certain of that, Miss Hawkins." The salesman says. Was he ever formally introduced to her? "You may come to regret not looking at what I have to offer when the opportunity was there." He smiles languidly. "I have that feeling."

"Unfortunately, one piece of paper is not enough to convince a town whipped into a frenzy by unscrupulous folk. There are some prejudices that go too deep, and fear of the savage Indian is one of them. I fear we'll need to find an alternate target for their ire before they'll accept Charging Bear with open arms." Evans muses. "We aren't dealing with 'reasonable people' but mob mentality. It is a sad fact that reasonable arguments do not always translate into exoneration. I am living proof of that. My own reputation was heavily besmirched by a jealous rival. I won my case but lost respectability. It's why I went on the road in the first place and, ultimately, how I ended up here."

The two keys in Wildcat's hand are very similar...so similar that one could surmise they go to differnet locks in the same building.

Evans turns to Adrian. "I'm afraid Miss Hawkins has the right of it. And until we can be sure that it is entirely secure this time, we dare not put them back there."

"I can help with that." The salesman says. "I have among my wares some very specific items which will aid any such attempt immeasurably, if only you would ask."

"Look feller, you done admitted ya'll sell anything ta anyone under any circumstances.  Ya come out of nowhere, in a place that don't make no sense, doin' weird things that ain't should be did, somethin' ain't right here.

"Now I ain't sayin' that anyone who sells anythin' dangerous is liable for his cust'mers, especially if they lie about their intent, but by gum, ah seen an' talked to these three an' they don't never make no bones 'bout what it is they do, hell's bells, they's proud of it!  But ya done 'sold' this feller dynamite anyhow, and th' fact ah can't prove it means ya'll get ben'fit of the doubt, but ya have un uphill climb tryin' ta convince me ya didn't good and well know what you was doin'.

"An' that dynamite turned out useless when he really needed it, ah believe th' fact it worked out like it did fer me is just his bad luck.  Ya done 'sold' me help in th' scrape, a free sample ah reckon, an' while I can't deny ya delivered, it damn near scairt me out of th' fight!  Then ah mention a shortage of handcuffs, and looky there, ya done got 'em, how conveen-ent.

"It don't matter if'n I bought yer whole stock feller, you'll just come 'round an' sell th' next set ah put in th' clink whatever they need to get out, long as they're willing ta pay fer it, won't ya!?  Like you sell me th' handcuffs, but ya sell them the keys later, or somethin' like that.  An' along th' way, ennyone who trades with ya'll is gonna suffer fer gettin' mixed up in it!  Am ah wrong!?"

"Ranger, " James said as he picked up his cards and returned the stick of dynamite to Charging Bear, "You might not want to yell at the salesman just yet. Seems that Mr. Baker got that dynamite in the vault some time ago... four or five years I figure. I would be vastly interested in why he put it in this particular location."

After having deposited the criminals with the higher ups of the law - namely Ranger Wildkitten and Marshal Evans - and having getting back the dynamite from Lawrence, Charging Bear sets out to check the rest of the building for explosives seeing as that's what Wildkitten said he should do.

OOC: Starting at the back door and working in a counter-clockwise fashion.

11:55, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,3 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. Notice.
Well crap... red chip to reroll
11:56, Today: Charging Bear rolled 4,1 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,1. Notice (Red Chip Reroll).

"I hear very little 'benefit of the doubt' in your tone, Miss." The salesman says placidly. "I sell items to those who could use them. I have methods for getting to customers that my competition can't easily match. Can I be faulted for having an entrepreneurial spirit? And you don't need to worry about me selling to folks in jail cells. Though I allow potential customers to inspect my wares, I don't take it on faith that they 'will pay me back later.' I don't lend credit. With my margins I can't afford to. If someone wants something I happen to have, they can pay for it right then or not at all. People in jail cells do not tend to have ready access to cash."

He picks up the handcuffs and squirrels them away into his pockets. "And you wound me. Ask anyone I've done business with. They will all tell you they were perfectly happy with my wares. You can't hold me liable for any misfortune that should result in the misuse of my products--that's the fault of the buyer."

He sighs. "But, as I can see you're not willing to do business, then may I ask your leave to go? I have a business to run and other customers to court, and I weary of trying to convince you of my good intentions."

Wildcat was surprised he answered as he did.

"All right mebbe I'm a bit unfair here lately.  And at mah wit's end wit' everyone.  Ya ain't done nothin' bad, but it sure does look bad from my end.  Ah just want the truth, why were ya there when it happened, what did ya see, and what all are you sellin' exactly.  That's all ah reckon ah need, ya ain't done nothin' illegal."

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #30):

((OOC: Thanks for the chip! }:D))

The only dynamite he finds on the first floor is a satchel filled with 9 sticks of dynamite, just sitting open on the floor. It looked like it was just left there...probably when Wildcat took down Rum Tum Tugger.

That's not the most interesting thing he finds, however.

Charging Bear opens the door to what should be a storage room...and finds himself face to face with a large black horse, hitched to a big black peddler's wagon with the legend "The Generous Salesman!" emblazoned on the side. The horse and cart take up quite a bit of space, and the door is far too small for either the horse or the wagon to get through...
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:19, Wed 19 Oct 2011.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #32):

"I can understand your concerns, Miss Hawkins. I've found a good stiff drink helps relax the soul once in a while." He pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a quick sip, as if to prove his point. He sets it aside. "Well, let me answer you as best as I can. I arrived where you met me. My...conveyance has a peculiar habit of dropping me into interesting situations without warning. It's a Type-40, rather old and unreliable, but it gets me where I need to be. So to be perfectly honest, you were the first person I saw, being attacked by a former customer of mine. As for what I'm selling, well, I have a vast inventory, and it's embarrassingly easy for me to find strange and unique items. For instance, I happen to have with me four keys that fit locks in some safety deposit boxes in this very building. I only know what one of those boxes contains, but I figured someone in town could use those keys more than I."

"Fella, yer a strange one.  Let's say ah believe ya.  How do ya know so much 'bout me, ain't never met before."

"I really don't know all that much. I know your name is Katrina Hawkins, that you are a Private in the Texas Ranger Brigade, and that you a pure and virtuous god-fearing woman. I also know that you were in a conflict with the Jellicle Gang when I arrived. I know all this because my conveyance informed me that a potential customer was available, and this was the information provided with that signal."

((OOC: yay technobabble justification for adventure card use!))
This message was last edited by the player at 01:54, Wed 19 Oct 2011.

Wildcat is about to object, but then she remembers she had a conversation with a machine that could mother-tucking-talk not a few minutes ago.

"That's the second unbelievable clank I heard of tah-day.  All right, maybe ah can be reasonable, shooting or arrestin' every strange sort that comes through here ain't gonna work none too good.  Ya wanna sale, ah got a few items ah could use at th' moment.  If'n I line yer pockets a bit, think ya can see fit ta see a few things mah way?"

There's that languid smile again.

"I think we can deal. What did you have in mind?"

Wildcat grabs a the bills from the stash found on the suspect.  "Fella ah'm calling yer bluff right here.  This law department ain't got two sticks to rub together.  Marshal, make a note that the suspect had this much when he entered, you won't be th' first Marshal ta rely on th' state to renumerate him upon his release.  Those handcuffs, an 'all th' keys fer him fer starters.  Fo'ty five Colt, Fo'ty fo' fo'ty, 'n all th' buckshot ya can come up with fer th' remainder.

"You keepin' up?  Cuz I ain't even done."

"Considering how this was, in all probability, stolen goods," Evans says mildly, eying the bloodstains on some of the bills, "I highly doubt Mr. Tugger has any claim to it, and I hereby confiscate it as evidence and turn it over to my finance department for dispersal. That happens to be you right now."

The stranger begins reaching into his pockets and laying items on the table.

"Three pairs of stainless steel handcuffs, $1.75 each. Keys included. One box .44 caliber ammunition, $1.50...how many more boxes would you like? Box of Buckshot shells, $1...again, how many more boxes would you like? .45 Colt Peacemaker, single action, $7.50. .45 Colt Peacemaker, double action, also $7.50." The salesman nods at the objects spread before him. "Your current total is $22.75. What else would you like?"

"Oh feller, they're gonna need least triple that much, ammo goes fast in this town."

The salesman immediately stacks three more boxes of .44 bullets and three more boxes of shells on the ones already on the table. How are his pockets that big?

"That's another $7.50 to your total, bringing it up to $30.25. Would you like a box of slugs, as well? Buckshot is bad in crowd situations."

"That shot don't spread like ya think it does feller, not that ah'd advise precise shootin' wit' it.  And if yer using a slug, ya ought to be usin' a rifle.  But fine, it has its uses, one box.  Marshal Evans, ah think it'd do ya much good to take at least this many supplies, more would be better but ah took th' liberty of gettin' ya started.

"Speaking of scatterguns... been wishin' ah had one about since I done got here."

Evans is a little goggle-eyed at the pile of stuff on the desk. "I...I...yes...started..."

The salesman adds another box to the pile, then nods. "Single-barrel, double-barrel, sawed-off, Winchester lever Action, or Colt Revolving?"

Adrian squinted at the salesman. It would be too many coincidences in one day for him to know this feller from somewhere, but darn if he couldn't shake that feeling. He didn't make any mention of it though, instead taking in the conversation between the man and the Ranger.

"I daresay he's gotta point there, Ranger Hawkins. He can't well be held liable for things people done after they done bought his items, can he? I mean, maybe same folks as been shootin' things up 'round here are gettin' there guns from the same place as honest folks get their guns from."

Also impressed with the tremendous amount of items the man has for sale, he began to focus on that.

The salesman notes Adrian's interest. "Were you thinking of purchasing anything, sir? I have wares for all occasions and vocations."

In reply to The Stray (msg #33):

Putting the satchel over one shoulder Charging Bear continues his search but then...

"What the..." is all Charging Bear could think to say when presented with a horse and wagon inside a storage closet. Granted there are far better things that could be said, but as Charging Bear is a simple man he tends to speak simply whenever possible. The native son slowly goes to pet the horse and attempts to sort out how exactly it got there.

"Coach gun.  Remington, if ya gots a Remington."  Wildcat tells him, determined to see where he pulls this from.

OOC: A coach gun was a compact double barreled break open side by side shotgun with shorter barrels than what most people wanted in a general purpose meat gathering shotgun.  Most shotguns of the era were used for both personal defense and meat gathering (or pest exterminating!), and would have 28" barrels or thereabouts.  Wells Fargo used to issue them to their coaches, hence the name, but they became popular with law enforcement agencies too.  I'd call it a double barreled shotgun and call it a day however.

Jake stood back as the others dealt with the traveling salesman. He kept an eye on the prisoners.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #47):

The horse snorts gently as Charging Bear examines her. She seems rather bored, and is munching oats from a feed bag around her head. The wagon itself is much like any other wagon driven by itinerant merchants Charging Bear has seen in the past. There's a door near the rear...perhaps there are answers inside.

Slowly going past the horse, Charging Bear lightly raps upon the door. If there is not response he'll try the handle.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #48):

The Salesman smiles, reaches beneath his vest, and pulls the requested gun forth. There was simply no way he was concealing that thing in that location.

"Here we are. 12-gauge double barrel Remington model 1889, constructed for use on the Wells Fargo & Co. stage line in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Walnut stock, cobalt blue steel, and a hair trigger. Retails for $35, but can be yours today for the low price of only $17.50, bringing your total purchases today to $47.75."

He lays the shotgun on the table next to the other weapons. "Anything else you are interested in today?"

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #51):

There is no response to his knock. Charging Bear checks the handle...

...it opens, and what Charging Bear sees is impossible. Inside the wagon is an octagonal white room, far larger than the wagon outside it could support, with a mushroom-shaped structure in the middle with a vast array of switches, levers, and buttons.

((OOC: Make a Spirit check for me (-3 fear level, -2 situation, +grit), for seeing something Man Was Not Meant To Know...))

In reply to The Generous Salesman (msg #52):

OOC:  Uh, isn't it 1879?  Is this some thing meant to freak me out?  Or are we just rolling with an anachronism in classic Deadlands style?

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #54):

((OOC: In order: Yes, probably, and I couldn't find a Remington shotgun model earlier than that, so it might be an anachronism Deadlands style or he might be messing with you. Choose which you want to roll with.))

In reply to The Stray (msg #53):


16:37, Today: Charging Bear rolled -1,5 using d6-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+2)8. spirit - red reroll.
 16:37, Today: Charging Bear rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. Blue Chip.
16:35, Today: Charging Bear rolled -2,-2 using d6-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. Spirit (-3 fear, -2 situation, +2 guts).
Two fate chips later ... 10

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #56):

((OOC: You also reroll the blue chip. When you spend a chip for a reroll, you make the whole thing from scratch (including dice added from other Fate Chips).

Not that it matters much, as you have at least a success anyway.

So you find it weird and creepy, not mind-shattering. Now what?))

PM

In reply to The Stray (msg #57):

Ooc: d'oh!

---

Taking a moment to steady himself, Charging Bear enters the strange interdimensional space to see what lies within.

ooc: 16:54, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,5. Notice.

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #58):

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #59):

Charging Bear takes a few steps into the white room.

Something flickers into existence nearby...it's the Salesman!

Or is it? The Salesman is transparent, and he flickers in and out...some kind of ghost?

"Intruder alert." The salesman says. "Intruder, I must insist that you leave here at once, and forget this place ever existed if you can. If you have not left in the next few seconds, I will forcibly eject you."

In reply to The Stray (msg #55):

OOC:  Remington might not have made such a gun until the 1890s come to think of it, but it's a lot more fun to treat it as weirdness.

Wildcat had seen what a skilled thief could do, what a person of ill intent could conceal.  The demonstration so far had been impressive but not outside the realm of possibility.

But a damn shotgun... from a year that hadn't even happened yet...  Her blue eyes dilated.

"May I?"  Wildcat gestures at it.  "Ah never buy a piece without making my peace."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #62):

"Of course." The Salesman says. "I guarantee all my wares, but I understand the desire to personally inspect it. If you wish to test fire it, I will understand, although I will only provide you with a single round. I find that cuts down on the temptation to turn the weapon on me in an ill-advised attempt at robbery."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Thu 20 Oct 2011.

"Yer worried a Texas Ranger in a room full of Deputies is gonna rolla ya?  Mister yer either cynical beyond reckoning or ah am the dumbest gal this side o' th' Pecos.  Ennyway won't be necess'ry, t'ain't a good idea usually ta fire 'em dry but once ta make sure it works is all right."

Wildcat's inspection was simple, a coach gun doesn't have a lot that can go wrong, it's just that if it does, you're in a world of hurt.  She breaks the action open and does her best to hold the bore up to the light to make sure the barrel's aren't corroded or rusted, she thumbs back the hammers and listens for any irregularities, and figures out the manual of arms for the trigger and makes sure it engages the firing pin without excessive play, slop, or force.

While it doesn't have much to do with function, she checks the bluing and the furniture for signs of handling and possible abuse.  Not that this gun wouldn't see both if she got her hands on it...  She even checks it for fit, well aware that anything she owns with a stock will have to have a conversation with a saw on the butt end sooner than later.


OOC:  Wildcat is just suspicious it might be El Cheapo at that price.  Also if the stock fits her, she's going to freak out a little more.  XD

"It isn't that I don't trust you. I'm just stating the policy that has served me well in the past."

The gun is clean and shiny. There's a bit of cleaning that could be done, so it looks like it's been test fired at least once before, but otherwise it could have come straight from the factory. There are no irregularities with the hammer, firing pin, or trigger that she can find.

Neither the barrel nor the stock have any significant wear...it really could have come straight from Grand Rapids, Michigan. There aren't even any fibers from the man's coat. The stock is sized for someone close to her build, though obviously fitted for a male shoulder.

Wildcat just stares at the man, buggered.  "All right... couple boxes o' shells too.  That and th' scattergun is out of mah pocket, th' Marshal will be usin' his newfound operating budget to pick up th' rest.  Marshal, ah rec'comend ya keep one of them cuffs on yer person and distribute th' other two pair as ya see fit, or use 'im ta cuff those three together."

Although her voice is even her eyes are wide as she spreads out the scrip to pay for it all.  Wildcat can't believe this.

"An' there's one more thin' I want ta negotiate.  All this is great and all but it was jus' a test ta see if it were poss'ble.  An' if'n ya'll can do all that, ya'll can do this an' don't tell me no diff'rent.  Ah want to buy th' knowledge of yer next sale to someone ya know ah wouldn't approve of, preferable before it happens."

Well, I'll be damned, he thought as he saw the man withdraw that firearm from seemingly out of nowhere. I could learn a few tricks from this man, maybe.

"I'll pass on a purchase for the moment, but thank you kindly," said the newly minted Deputy. Adrian wasn't a greedy man, and he had all he needed. Oh, he liked to have a little extra cash on him and he liked to spend it, but at the end of the day he had pretty simple needs.

The salesman pulls two more boxes of shells from his pocket. "That will be $19.50, then." He says.

Evans frowns. "I'm not quite sure what to make of this...but let's see how far we can push it. If I'm going to be the steward of this fund, then  I have me own ideas about what I need. First off, the peacemakers will be useless without the right ammo, so I'd like .45 rounds instead of .44. Same problem with shell...with no shotgun, the shells do me no good, so I will need one. The lever-action one you mentioned, if that's still an option. next, I would like to take a look at less lethal munitions. Smith & Robards manufactures a splat round that would serve...can you procure these? Next, I will want to have a secure gun cabinet, with strong locks and all the keys. And lastly, I am feeling a bit peckish, so if you could serve up a platter of bacon & eggs along with a bottle of Jack Danial's Old #7 Tennessee Whiskey for me and all my deputies."

The salesman removes the boxes of pistol rounds and replaces them with different boxes, and pulls another shotgun, but then stops. "I can produce your gun cabinet, yes, but I will need to access my wagon for that. There is only so much I can pull from my pockets. As for the splat rounds, I can get them but I am not sure you could afford them. Such rounds are quite pricy...$5 for a single pistol round, and $10 for rifle and shotgun rounds. If you are still interested, we can proceed. And lastly, while the bottles of whiskey are no trouble, I do not stock perishables. Now, it would be a different story if you wanted, say, a canned ham, but I'm afraid I have no eggs or bacon."

"Isn't that interesting." Evans mutters, giving Wildcat a glance. "Very well. Cabinet and whiskey now, and I'll hold off on the splat rounds."

"Very well. Your total comes to $34.75."

Evans nods and begins to count out the scrip.

The salesman turns his attention back to Wildcat. "Well, now. That's an interesting request. But I'm afraid my answer is no."

"For one, I'm not entirely sure who will be interested in making purchases from me yet. I have to explore the market a bit first. I know that there is a group known as the Dust Adders who may be interested in some ammunition, as well as a rancher named Ward who may be interested in some sundry items I carry. There is a general store in town who will be very interested in getting fine-quality merchandise that he can then gouge people for on resale, several saloons who can always use more product, other small businesses that could use cheap supplies that they would normally have to special order at a premium, and dozens of individuals who might want to peek through my wares. There's simply too many potential markets for me to keep you informed of each one."

"And two, you might try to forbid me from selling to potential customers out of hand. My goal is to provide the best goods at the lowest prices to whomever needs them, and I will not allow your bias to influence my sales decisions."

"I'll tell you what I will do. I have among my stock a number of keys. One of these keys opens a lock on one of the safety deposit boxes below. Inside this box is a weapon with singular qualities, a weapon that should not, under any circumstances, fall into the wrong hands. I am telling you this merely for information."

"So what're you chargin' for the key?" he asked simply.

The salesman give Adrian a languid smile. "Nothing." he says simply.

"Because it ain't fer sale."  Wildcat says hopefully perceptively.

The salesman nods. "Just so. Unless I find the right hands for it. In that case, I will be giving it away."

"Then why not just take it for yerself, because as long as that's there, we ain't got no jail."

"What better hands could you put it in? You're among a posse o' law men," he said, belatedly adding, "and woman. I mean, just give it to the Marshal here and you won't have to worry about the wrong hands an' all that. Or the Ranger. Or really any of us." My hands ain't that good no more, he thought ruefully, reflecting on what had happened just earlier. He still was having a hard time wrapping his head around that.

"And what makes you think my hands are the right hands?" The salesman says to Wildcat. "Besides, I don't want it. I'm a salesman. I don't make a habit of going around shooting things...it's bad for business for a salesman to shoot his customers."

"And what makes you think any of you are the right hands for it, hmm?" he says to Adrian. "It is a very powerful weapon, and power tends to corrupt. Even the pure of heart may not be able to handle the weapon...or resist it's use. Perhaps I should tell you a little more. The item in question is a gun. Nothing much to look at, but it has the peculiar property of being very effective at returning death to the dead. However, it is equally effective at killing the living, and it is not always choosey about its targets. They say that it isn't the gun that kills, it's the person that pulls the trigger. Well, that may be true in most cases, but it is not always true of this. Thus, anyone who were to wield it would have to be very certain they could handle the consequences."

"Returning death to the dead is something we're sorely in need of."  Wildcat remarks dryly.

"Indeed. And there are quite a number of people equally interested in bringing death to the living. You can see the tricky position I'm in."

"Fella..."  Wildcat finishes peeling off the bills for her acquisition... "Ah got a half dozen things in mah coat pocket that can do that."

"Well I certainly don't wanna hold no gun I can't control all the time," he said. My nerves are shaken up already since that robbery and I'm doing bad enough as is.

"Could just destroy it, right?"

"You have a gun that will never jam, that will always find your hand when you need a weapon, and whose hammers will never fall on an empty chamber?" The salesman asks with a smirk. "You should have said so. I wouldn't have bothered selling you the shotgun."

"Could it be destroyed?" he muses. "The key, certainly. All it is is brass. The box? Less certain. It would take time and will to destroy the box that holds it. Of course, you certainly wouldn't want to lock up any criminals near it, as they'd have plenty of both. The gun itself? I don't know. It may be possible to be rid of it for a time, but I don't think you could truly destroy it." he shrugs. "But that is not my problem. My problem is finding the right person to have the key. What they do with it is their business."

"No, th' point is that whole death to th' dead thing is all ah'm concerned wit'.  Rest sounds nice 'n all, but thar's plenty about ta kill folks with.  Even this thing..." Wildcat pats her holster.  "Ain't too swooft bah modern standards, but it works just fine, strange enough.

"Look we got us a buildin' ta search, an th' Marshal here clearly got some ideas on what he needs.  Yer square now far as ah'm concerned feller, but let it be known ah don't like all this hooey.

"An' don't start yer talk 'gain, makin' a good profit 'n bein' a decent person ain't 'sclusive.  But let's 'gree you keep ta tradin', ah think we'll be just fine.  It is a mis'rable place round here, you might have something some poor soul really needs."

Wildcat turned to the Marshal and Deputy Vega.

"Marshal, since it's worthless as a jail cell now, ya likely want ta lock that vault up 'n make that key go somewhere.  And if no one's going to fetch Deputy Clank, ah'm a gonna ta, ah don't like th' idea of him by hisself over there."

The salesman smiles. "Ah, yes. That. Been having a problem with zombis, have you? Nasty things. Putting them down is a mercy. keeping them down forever...why, even more so."

"If you are dismissing me, why don't you come right out and say so?" he says with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'm quite sure I'll find some poor soul who could use my wares. Any of them."

"Now wait a minute." Evans says. "What makes it useless? The man just said the thing could be destroyed, or at least dispersed, and we've gathered a large amount of demolitions today. I say we open the closed boxes, remove the contents, and blow the damn thing sky high! We don't need a key, just a crowbar. Then the boxes will be empty and we can dump those vultures down in the vault and let them rot."

"Marshal ah don't know a lot about dynamite, or settin' it off inside, even in a bank vault.  Matter of fact, ah know an awful lot 'bout what to do when someone does somethin' like that!  Ain't never been on th' other end.  Don't think ah wanna be."

"Who said anything about setting it off inside? We simply take the box out of the cubby, and then you can take it with you when you go see Ward. Drop the box and the dynamite somewhere between the town and the ranch, light a match, and run like the dickens. Or even better! I have a device I was working on last night up at the Grand Bull, a variation on that glue device I constructed yesterday to quell the mob. It can produce a frightfully hot flame...surely hot enough to melt all but the most stubborn metals. We take it to the outskirts where I can use my device without causing harm to life or property, and we can dispose of yon scary gun and all those explosives in one fell swoop!"

"Well that works, takin' it outside ah mean.  Plus ah was 'bout ta point out, reason ah'm in one piece is that dynamite didn't go boom when we expected it to."

In reply to A Holographic Projection (msg #61):

"I'm a deputy marshal in this town, so I won't suggest attempting to toss me out like some type of burglar." the native son says, puffing up his chest slightly without noticing. He reaches for the symbol of office that had been given to him a day or two before and taken again just the night before and realizes he doesn't have it. "This area is presently under investigation by a Texas Ranger as there are many unlawful happenings that have occurred in this vicinity recently."

Jake wasn't sure why everyone was suspicious yet so trusting of this salesman; he didn't overly care for the fella. Something about the dapper fellow bothered him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Either way, there were still prisoners needing to be dealt with. James went about 'processing' them, which ware more or less making him taking whatever they had that could be used to escape and make sure they were handcuffed, shackled, or tied up nicely.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #86):

"And yet, that is exactly what I am going to do." The salesman figure says, and raises one hand. There's a shiny silver cylinder in it. One end lights up, and there's a high-pitched buzzing sound. The figure begins advancing on the native son. "I do not care who you are. I care only that you do not belong here."

Charging Bear nods at the figure, "Fair enough ... neither should you I imagine." He reaches into his back pocket and draws forth a stick of dynamite which is followed by a match. "So why don't we just play nice?"

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #89):

The figure halts. He looks at the dynamite.

"Scanning...Interesting." He lowers the cylindrical device. "You are quite determined. Or quite mad. Or very possibly both. I respect that. I should warn you that I detect some instability in the explosives you carry. I would encourage you to safely dispose of them when you have an opportunity. But until then, what do you want?"

In reply to Jake Lawrence (msg #87):

Since two of the three are unconscious and one has already been thoroughly searched, Jake's processing is fairly quick. The woman didn't have anything on her (she was already frisked by Charging Bear, who took her guns and knife). The last bandit, McCavity, had a very nice brass-handled, blue-finished Smith & Wesson Schofield revolver. This was a very fine piece...not something any common gun-for-hire could get his hands on.

The man also has a small badge that looks like this:



It looks familiar...Jacob could swear he'd seen it before

((OOC: make a Common Knowledge roll and a Knowledge (Occult) roll, please

Stats Brass and blued finish Smith & Wesson Schofield Model 3 (12/24/48, 2d6+1, 6 shots, AP 1, Single Action, reduces loading penalty by 1).))
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:04, Sun 23 Oct 2011.

Jake took the gun and gunbelt, setting it over his shoulder while he finished his search. Then came the strange badge which he took a moment to look at as it looked strangely familiar.

OOC:
12:49, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 3,4 using 1d10,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Common Knowledge.
12:49, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 11,1 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (4+4+3)11,1. Know (Occult).

In reply to A Holographic Projection (msg #90):

Looking from the projection to the dynamite, Charging Bear arches an eyebrow. "Seemed to work when I opened that door ... but alright, supposedly the stuff is five years old." The native son set the boom stick back where he had gotten it. "At present I'd like to know exactly what ... this is." as he says this Charging Bear gestures at the space he's found himself in.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #93):

"Unstable as in dangerous to carry...any very severe josltling might set it off." The figure says. He smirks. "This is the interior of the wagon. To be more specific, it is the interior of this Type-40 TARDIS capsule currently disguised as a wagon. Neither of those answers, I supsect, give you any help whatsoever."

In reply to Jake Lawrence (msg #92):

The blue finish and the engraving on the gun would seem to indicate a moneyed individual. Same with the pearl handled revolvers the girl was carrying when Jake brought her here before. These aren't some random drifters or desperate cowboys trying to make a quick buck on a killing. These were professionals.

And that badge...that's the emblem of the Enlightend Society of the Weeping Moon. Dr. Frost had mentioned them as a philanthopic organization, and thought quite highly of them, mostly because they help fund some of his non-government work. The Moonies were quite a wealthy bunch...one has to wonder if this assassin was on their payroll or a former member.

"As you seem not to trust us to handle this legendary and quite arcane weapon you speak about, why don't you come with?" he asked the salesman. "You can watch us blow the thing into smithereens and all that."

Evans nods and begins negotiating for a crowbar.



The salesman smiles again. "Why would I want to do that? I have people to meet and products to sell."

He reaches into a pocket and pulls forth a key ring. He removes a key from it. "Here." he says, sliding it forward. "You seem set on tampering with it, despite my warnings. This will open the box it is contained in. What you do or do not do with the gun inside is no longer my responsibility. I have informed you of the weapon's presence. That knowledge is no longer my burden. I wash my hands of it."

In reply to The Stray (msg #95):

"Look who's playing cats paw ... Enlightend Society of the Weeping Moon huh." Jake said quietly. He didn't care for how dark things were looking. He showed the amulet to Ranger Wildcat and Marshal Evanshen inquired,. "Any ah yall hear of da'Enlightend Society of the Weeping Moon?"

In reply to A Holographic Projection (msg #94):

"Just the disguise part." Charging Bear says with a slight shrug as his eyes search the room for more explanation of where he was. "So why the disguise?"

Ooc:
12:48, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,8 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+2)8. Notice.

"Ah believe ah have Deputy Lawrence, an' ah ain't the least bit surprised.  Do ya'll mind if'n I borry that little token there?  Ah intend to run down this Ward, ah think it'd give me an edge up on 'im ta know th' losers tryin' ta gun down th' Ranger are tied to him."

Wildcat makes a decision.  The Salesman was a great distraction but there was still a crisis here and her innate bossiness asserted itself.

"Look, here's what we're gonna do.  Deputy Bear's already in process of checking this building.  Deputy Vega, take these keys I took from th' Tugger feller 'n go check out th' vault, take these and th' key he just gave ya, and see what is in there, we need that cleared soon as possible.  Marshal, you sound like you have a plan for what we may find down there, ah reckon you outta go with Deputy Vega, ya seem handy wit' strange gizmos, mebbe ya'll can gauge if whatever it is are dangerous or not.  Deputy Lawrence, ah hate tellin' ya'll what to do, ya seem to find things on yer own, but someone does need to watch the door here, so to speak, this is a crime scene, secure it.  Mebbe try to find Deputy Fuller, ah don't think we got him back yet.

"Ah want to talk to that Adder very much, the injured deputies are priority one right now but he's priority two and there in the same place far as ah reckon, and ah do not like Deputy Clank out there on his own, seems like a recipe for disaster.  Someone needs to check on Deputy McCoy at th' church too, ah'll do that while ah'm there 'n see where th' Adder went too perhaps.

"Everyone clear?  Ah'm bringing th' other deputies an th' Adder back here, seems secure now.  You..."  Wildcat looks at the Salesman.  "Are at large.  But ah got my eye on ya'll.  Ah would appreciate it if ya'd do yer tradin' an' roll on."

"Well, sounds about a good a plan as any to me. Hopefully whatever's down there don't blow nothin' up. Trouble enough in this town. I'll follow your lead, Marshal," said the newly minted Deputy. He reached for the indicated keys, though the one given him by the salesman felt like a brick of lead in his hand, weighing him down.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #99):

"Why, to avoid having to answer questions like that." the figure says, and gives the native son a smug grin.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins and Adrian Vega:

Evans nods and hefts his newly purchased crowbar. "Come along, then. The vault is this way." He leaves the conference room.

The Salesman nods and stands. "Well, then. I shall indeed take my leave at this time. But please, if you find yourself needing any supplies, don't hesitate to call on me. I have the feeling we'll be meeting again."

Wildcat sets out for the church, taking a moment to load or reload everything as necessary and retrieve her lariat as well.

As Wildcat steps out of the jail, she spies a pair of familiar forms running her way. Well, shuffling more like. Both the men are injured.

Cantrell waves at her. "Got trouble!" he shouts, taking a moment to steady Bill, who is looking about woozily. "Fella came by, said there were Comanches about! Warn the Marshal!"

"Tarnation!  All right go on in there but watch yerself, those three are tied up but ain't jailed yet, ain't searched th' entire buildin' yet neither.  Ah know yer hurt Cantrell but it wouldn't hurt my feelings if you sat there and covered 'em with yer sixgun, not that they're in any better shape than ya'll.

"Is the others still in th' church?"

Wildcat helps walk the injured Deputy McCoy on inside.

Drawing his sidearm but keeping it down and by his side, he proceeded to back up the Marshal. Hopefully do better this time around than I did last time, he thought sourly.

"Let's do this," he said, following the Marshal.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #106):

Cantrell nods. "Good. I'd like some alone time with the bastard who shot me anyhow. And hey, they're wanted dead or alive, so if you want to be spared the burden of jailin' them..." He winks suggestively.

"Last I saw, the preacher was still givin' confession, and the crazy clank was draggin' in all manner o' stuff, even though it was told to stop. The fella who brought the deputy in, he saw one of the other fellas in the church, then ran away screamin' like he done saw a ghost. He ran oft, and the other fella ran after him. Damndest thing, really."

"I said cover 'em Cantrell.  They's captured 'n arrested proper, if'n ah shoot them now ah'm same as they are.  Ah wouldn't even mention it except it sounds like ah'm gonna take all th' men we got out here momentarily, an' I's desp'rate.  Truthfully ah can't stop your hand if'n ah'm not there, but you listen ta me real good cowpoke.

"Let me put this in terms you can understand: the thing the one that plugged you fears the most is being held accountable for what he done, and not on his own terms.  He as much told me hisself.  The worst thing ya'll do to him is make sure he lives to face a jury, an' there ain't a one in th' Conf'der'cy that won't hang 'im.  Ya'll can get money any time, but th' chance to torment this son of a bitch in a completely legal way is somethin' ah don't think you'd turn down.  There's more to their circumstances than you know, so they are stayin' here, alive, Cantrell.  We can jawjack 'bout it when there ain't no Comaches a comin'."

Wildcat paused for just a moment.

"Ah think ah understand ya now.  Ah think ah also understand why Armstrong put up wit' ya.

"All bad men are snakes.  Low down dirty slithering opportunist snakes.  Yer a snake too Cantrell, but yer a Kingsnake.  A snake that only eats other snakes.  When you catch a Kingsnake, ya let it go because as much as you loathe it, you know it's only going to go eat other snakes that are much worse.

"But ya don't trust the Kingsnake, ya just know what it's gonna do.  Ya keep it around, ya let it slither in the dirt, but ya don't trust it.

"Now th' way I look at it, every minute yer alive from now on's a gift from Deputy Lawrence an th' Lord, so yer gonna obey both of 'em.  Ah'll take th' liberty of speakin' fer th' man 'til he's present directly."

Wildcat was sure Cantrell would put in his two bits, but she doesn't really care, she's just interested in getting the injured man inside and then doing a lot of yelling and running, specifically toward the vault.

"Kingsnake, eh?" Jericho says, then grins. "I think I like that. 'Kingsnake' Cantrell. Kingsnake and Wildcat, two o' the toughest sons o' bitches this side o' the Mississippi." He pauses. "Or daughter o' a bitch, in your case...hmm...gonna have ta kick that one around some more. But you're wrong about me. I aim to get my payday, sure enough, and I'm practical in my methods, but I ain't a bad man, and I hope ya'll will realize that someday."

He looks her square in the eye. "They'll be alive when you get back. I might kick that grinning fucker around a little, but I won't kill him, much as I'd like to. I'll swear to that before the Lord. Now git goin'."

Wildcat didn't like the sounds of that, but Cantrell was pretty tore up.  It was believable he wouldn't exert himself very much.

"Ah aim too.  An' don't you call my mama no bitch, she's th' most upright one in th' whole clan, an if'n she heard you talkin' like that she'd knock yer ass plumb out."

Wildcat ran through the halls toward the vault, yelling hoping that Deputy Lawrence and Deputy Bear would hear her and come to her.

"To arms!  To arms!  Comanche Raid!"

((OOC: Currently Jake Lawrence, Adrian Vega, and The Amazing Evans are the ones in any position to hear her. CB is inside an extra-dimensional space...sound does not travel through it.))

"You hear that, Marshal?" he asked as he heard the raised voice of the Ranger woman. "Sounds like the Ranger's sayin' somethin' 'bout a Comanche raid. That happen a lot down here?"

Evans stops in his tracks. He stands there for a moment, apparently in shock. Then he shakes himself.

"Of course. That would have to be the next calamity facing us, wouldn't it?" He grumbles. "No, this isn't common. They showed up about a month ago, camped out at the edge of Dr. Ward's lands. Until now, they haven't been very active, but it's a large enough band to cause concern. I had planned on sending some folk to parley with them, see what it was they were doing there, and perhaps ask them to return to the Coyote Confederation or cohabit the area peacefully, but I had so many other priorities that dealing with them just wasn't an option."

He sighs. "Yet another failure I'll have to live with, it seems. I wonder what has them aggravated, and whether we can negotiate..."

Adrian took a moment to ensure that his weapon was loaded. It was something of a ritual for him, something that he did almost without thinking. He might have checked it only a little while before, but he gained a sense of security and satisfaction from the process, just from going through the motions. He had always been a relatively quiet man, and didn't really fancy himself much of a talker, but he especially didn't think he was the kind of person that could talk some angry Comanches out of killing.

"Well, I s'pose we best go see to 'em. Vault down below can wait, I think. Best if somebody can talk to 'em and we don't have to fight. Comanches can lay on some serious hurt, or so I hear. Myself, I never had to fight no Injuns. Well, least you can't say this town is boring." But he did remember a time when it was boring, when this tiny, sleepy little mining town was too small to hold Adrian Vega. Ironically, that was the way he thought it should be again. In the years before he hadn't seen anything of the world, and was so cocksure and arrogant. Now that he was a little seasoned, he had a different take on things. Quiet isn't really all that bad, usually.

In reply to Adrian Vega (msg #115):

"No, you can't say that. I dearly wish it were otherwise, though." Evans sighs, then points toward the hall. "Lead on, MacDuff."

With a sigh, Adrian took the lead, somewhat glad to be in front. That way I can't shoot no one in the back, he thought wryly. He almost wanted to laugh, but he didn't really feel he had it in him just right then.

In reply to A Holographic Projection (msg #102):

With a nod, Charging Bear says, "Of course." He takes a step or two farther into the strange space, trying as he might to understand things that he probably shouldn't even be seeing. "What exactly are you and the salesman doing here any how?"

Jake played follow the leader after Marshal Evans and Vega. Oh the fun things that happen in this town, the huckster thought.

"So what exactly are we going to do when we meet these injuns Marshal? I don't recall them caring much for laws of the Confederacy."

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #118):

"Oh, you'd have to ask the Salesman that. He's the pilot. I'm just the vessel."

In reply to Jake Lawrence (msg #119):

"I don't know." Evans admits. "I want to figure out just what their grievances are. If it's something simple, if this is all just a misunderstanding, then perhaps we can clear this up without bloodshed. I do not dare hope for that, though, so in case this is an actual raid and not someone overreacting to a large native presence, we need to organize a defense."

As he finishes talking, the church bells begin to ring.

OOC:  Assuming they have met in the middle.

"Marshal!  Cantrell is here... Deputy McCoy too. If yer desp'rate ah'd let Cantrell watch th' prisoners 'lone but ah don't trust him not ta abuse 'em, an' I don't trust them not to taunt him into doin' something stupid.

"Going back to th' church, decide who's goin' an' stayin', fetch th' horses, then meet me there.  Get Idjit out th' stables fer me, we'll need th' horses.  Lord ah wish there was any other horse but Idjit..."

Katrina loved her stupid horse and would even tell him so when no one else was looking.  Of course she did, she probably loved all horses.  But as a professional accessory, he was sorely lacking.

"Don't know what ta expect, but ah'm gonna prepare fer a war and hope for not!"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:54, Mon 24 Oct 2011.

"Maybe they can wipe each other out, save us a bit of trouble." Evans grumbles, then sighs. "I'll handle gathering the horses, then. I can stop by the Grand Bull and get all those people to the chapel, as well as pick up a device I've been tinkering with." he turns to Jake Lawrence. "Go with Wildcat to the church." Then he turns to Adrian. "The other large meeting place in town is the Red Eye Saloon. It's up the street and around the corner from here. I'm sending you to get those people to the church. You're a local, so hopefully Old Crazy Pete won't have any issues taking direction from you."  He turns to Wildcat. "I'll have Deputy McCoy find Charging Bear. I...think he should remain here, for the time being. No need to cause further problems if we don't have to."

In reply to A Holographic Projection (msg #120):

"So a talking, self-disguising, personal transport device?" says Charging Bear with a slight nod-mostly to himself. "Sounds like some sort of ghost rock powered creation Hellstromme might create."

"Come on Deputy, shake a leg!"  Wildcat sure wasn't waiting for him...

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #125):

"Yes ma'am." Jake barked back at the ranger as he followed after her. He kept an eye open whatever craziness that might occur.

...And then there's a gunshot from the back of the building.

Wildcat readies that scattergun and gets a run on.  "Let's go!"

Evans nods and pulls his gyromounted pistol, waving all the others to follow him.

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #123):

"Sounds like a plan, Marshal," said Adrian upon receiving his instructions, and he was about to hustle over to the Red Eye Saloon. It had been some time since he'd seen Pete, but he hoped that he'd recognize him, and he would also recognize him.

But he didn't make it even two steps before a gunshot rang out. "Dammit. There's somethin' wrong with this town," he grumbled, looking about for the source of the shooting.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:31, Tue 25 Oct 2011.

"Never a dull moment." Jake chuckled as he drew his Dragoon and followed after the Ranger in haste.

The quartet rush down the halls of the mining office until they reach the back door, where they see a man bending down over the dead body of a mountain lion. He seems to be cutting bits of it off.

Evans, nonplussed, looks over the grisly scene.

"What's all this, then?"

"Something like that." The figure says. "Except nothing at all like that."

There's a polite cough from the doorway. The actual Salesman is there, watching the pair. His face is inscrutable.

Carl straightens, frowns to find Evans still in town, deeper still at the small army of deputies, then shrugs and indicates the corpse. Clearly, he is shooting undead mountain lions in the back of a mining office.

The ranch hand makes to leave, but then his glance catches on one of the mob of strangers - not a stranger, perhaps. Carl moves towards Adrian with his head slightly tilted in the manner of one trying to work out where they've seen a face before. "?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Tue 25 Oct 2011.

"You."  Wildcat says simply, then notices the dead animal.  "Ah heard that 'n thought the Comanche was done here, nice work though, don't need that thing in town!  Has ya seen 'em?  How many braves and horses?

"Marshal, ah had business with this Adder anyway and this is obviously a false alarm.  Go head n' get the horses.  Deputy Lawrence you go on to tha church without me, I'll be 'long presently."

Wildcat had made Carl talk, but she'd also learned something of his pecularities.  Not enough to not need a "translator", but enough to get general ideas.

"Does ya'll know this here Dust Adder, Deputy Vega?"

In reply to The Generous Salesman (msg #133):

Charging Bear tips his hat to the Salesman and says, "Howdy." The native son seems less than concerned that he's been 'caught'.

Carl's attention is snapped to the wearer of the grey coat with a sharp awareness of soldier/ruffled woman/Ranger. He blinks once and shakes his head sharply as though to forcibly throw a thought from it, mentally giving his hindbrain a good kicking.

He looks uncertain as to seeing Comanches, like he's not sure that what he's seen  is representative, and makes an irritated gesture of largeness - lots - in response to 'how many?' He puts the side of his right fist to the wall, drags a line under the blot and slams his fingertips to the paper around it, leaving a bloody sinking sun as message in under three seconds. Attack at sundown or later. They would probably bring fire.

There's a wary look at the mention of 'buisness'. He owes her an apology, and the knowledge of that rankles, but he can't take her to Ward right now. The Dust Adder's expression clears at the mention of the name 'Vega', though, and he perks up like something going from bristly to waggy-tailed. Adrian!

James nodded a quick, "Yes ma'am" as he left for the church. He thought to himself, Didn't I just come from there. as he approached the building

"An' they's comin' here?  Oh hell, that's too many to ride up on, an' that ain't 'nough time ta get these people out.  Alright, ah have certain expedient power ta negotiate with 'em, on paper ennyhow, reality is they train me ta shoot Injuns-"

Didn't Charging Bear not like that word?  She'd have to ask him about it later.

"-not play politickin' with 'em.  An' they're darn sure ta make sure ah can't actually give 'em nothin' they ask fer most of the time.

"All right, new plan.  We gots us a little time, ah hate ta do this, but we gotta gather th' noncombatants.  We's gonna put all our eggs in one basket, 'n then we're gonna guard that basket with our lives."

The wheels turned in her brain.  The satchel of dynamite.  The church.  The theater.  Damn, that is risky.

But they had searched the theater, she'd killed the vampires herself, and even Evan's weird gizmo hadn't found them.  It was reasonable that they weren't there.  She still didn't like it.  But if it was that bad, they would have some kind of protection, she could ask the preacher to say a prayer over the place and she could discuss alternatives with the Marshal, maybe it didn't have to be the theater...

"Adder, ya look bad, but ya can still move.  We're gonna give them Injuns the old okie-doke, but we gotta get people out of their path first.  Ah got a plan, but it's got some warts, but ah think everyone ta-gether can make 'er work. let's not hash it out until everyone's back at th' church."

Carl looks bemused. What did she think they were doing? Perhaps she hadn't heard the bells. Perhaps she thought she was the only real person here. (Jesse, shot, still warm, no pulse.) For one white-hot instant he wants to lash out, but catches himself between breaths, forces the urge down, down with the grief he has no time for and the slow burn of present rage. His stare is simply blank, direct but unreadable as though Wildcat were speaking French to some wild animal.

Carl looks to Adrian and nods at Wildcat, possibly a request to help or/and watch her. Make sure she didn't play games with people's lives. He then turns to move off, forestalling angry questioning as to where he's going by pressing his right knuckles to the wall and trailing a fading/intermittent serpentine shape with one finger as he heads back to the door, stepping over bits of cat.

It should be obvious what goes on the other end to the 'rattle' by the time he loops a head on it by the exit. Carl looks back and scuffs the snake's head off with the blood remaining on his palm. She'd want to be in on it, of course, but much as he feared and resented it, she was most needed here. Wouldn't be able to rouse the Lodge to action, either. Each to their tasks; they might meet at the church yet. Right now he had a horse to find/steal and a downed man to check.

The thought causes him to pause again and turn to the assembled, nodding down to the catamount, dead, shifting his gun a little as though to aim at its head. A sharper nod, imperative. Dead: headshot. He looks to see if they've got it, trying to ignore pain beating in his chest and thirst urging him to drink rain.

"How did ya'll learn 'bout the big snake?  Never you mind, ah get it.  There's bigger things at play here and ah'll leave you to it.  But Ward and ah will meet less'n ah get dead here first.

"Listen, one of yer fellers saved Deputy McCoy.  If'n ya see him, ah want to talk.  Just... talk."

He didn't know exactly what he had expected, returning to his home town and all, but certainly one of them things he hadn't really given much thought to was reunions with folk he hadn't really thought about much since he left. As he recognized the fella, he let go of all protocol and propriety in his situation and blurted out, "Hot damn, Carl Allans, is that you? You sure as hell look different. Or maybe I just been gone a while."

The Salesman raises an eyebrow. "You shouldn't be here." He says simply. "But as long as you're here, would you kindly help me with something?"

Resume posting on the "Chapter 12.2: Wild in the Streets" thread.

"If your only training in dealing with the natives is in how best to shoot them, Miss Hawkins, then you shouldn't be negotiating with them." Evans says, straightening up. "This is not your arena. I will try to speak with them, divine their intentions, and perhaps forestall any bloodshed. Should I fail and a defense of the town becomes necessary, you will be needed here."

Wildcat looks too tired to argue with him.  Someone had to go, it didn't have to be her.

"All right, then we need ta move fast.  Ah got an idea, ain't perfect, but ah don't hear no one else suggestin' much.  Is there another buildin' in town besides the church 'n theater that holds a lot of folks?"

The mute smirks slightly at Adrian's remark. Maybe he wasn't the rawboned young wrangler who'd frequented the younger miners' haunts with ready cards and liquor stolen from his father, but he was still Carl Allans. Bit older, few more scars. It'd be funny to see what he made of Audrey Frost, all grown up. He's surprised to see Adrian lacks a wedding ring - his look when glancing at that hand says as much, but he's soon distracted again by the Ranger.

He nods at the assertion she'll get to Ward, touching his chest as though swearing it himself, looks perplexed at her non-description, then shrugs slightly. Guess he'd ask Bill next he saw him. As for buildings - he thumps the wall - they want brick, or stone. Not wet, smoky wood with Comanches outside.

He's bemused at Evans' plan. Hell of a night to make a run for it. It was a nice cover story, though, if Evans vanished valiantly attempting to talk Comanche out of attacking. Wasn't as if there was anything you could offer them once they'd beat their war drums. Well, except livestock, scalps and women... No. Carl pales. Hell no.

The shift is slight, but he moves fast for a wounded man. There's no way he can hurt Evans with it from where he's standing, but there's a cold, cold anger in the Dust Adder as he looks at the Marshal down the length of his knife.
"..."


[[3 - Carl is not very intimidating at present. Clearly he used all his looking-bigger powers on Tex, and Evans has more hat...]]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Wed 26 Oct 2011.

Wildcat does not like that one bit.

"Scornful men bring a city into a snare, but wise men turn away wrath!"  Wildcat stamps her foot.  The look on her face currently is one Carl hasn't seen before.  It's a scowl, but not a hard one, equal parts angry Ranger who can't believe what an idiot you're being, and compassionate young woman who can't take any more bloodshed.

"This stunt yer pulling right now is the problem, Adder!  It has to stop!  It. Has. To. Stop! All these people are goin' ta die if'n ya don't drop whatever ya'll think we're up to just because we ain't in yer damn gang!  Are you that dense, that stupid, ya think no one else cares what them Injuns are gonna do if'n they git here!?  Ah done stopped it, now it's yer turn!"

Wildcat takes in her breath.  Her next words are much calmer, almost soothing.

"Fer the love of God, you ain't that stupid.  Just... put the pig sticker away.  We don't have time fer this, whatever yer supposed ta be doin' bout that big snake seems to be important.  But right now th' folks need someone to tell them what to do, even if it ain't perfect.  If we let them panic they all die, anything is better than nothing.  It would help if'n ya just came wit' me."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:13, Wed 26 Oct 2011.

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #147):

((OOC: 13:47, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 4,10 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,(6+4)10. Resisting Test of Wills. Evans is not impressed.))

Evans returns Carl's steely gaze with one of his own. He appears very unimpressed with the knife.

"Ah. Good suggestion. I was about to make it myself. The stone here, and in the City hall building, would provide an excellent fortification. There is, of course, the trouble with the three miscreants we have captured, but I have a thought on how we can neutralize them and keep them from becoming a problem in the future."

He continues to stare at Carl. "It seems, Miss Hawkins, that Mr. Allans here has just volunteered to accompany me to the Comanche camp, to assist in my negotiations and perhaps provide a defense if they go sour. How tremendously civic-minded you are, Mr. Allans."

There's an edge in his voice, just daring Carl to decline and prove himself a coward...

((OOC: 13:50, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 13,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (8+5)13,4. Persuasion Test of Wills.))
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Wed 26 Oct 2011.

Carl twitches his head slightly at the stomp, but doesn't look round until the word 'cares' - and it's clear that yes, that's what he thinks, because he can't give her the memories (night riots, men, women, children digging with bare planks for props, frightened prayers fading to mumbles behind the fallen rock, the long and awful silence of death or unconsciousness, his father pulled bloody and half-conscious from the rubble, a young man screaming somewhere down 7 shaft, unreachable, the hunger days, the wolf years) but he knows no-one has ever come for Blackthorn, ever, the same way he knows his hands are rough and he can't really read. It's true, that's how it is, there's never been proof otherwise.

Carl tries to swallow, wanting so badly to have some way to make her understand. It's probably the closest he'll ever get to vulnerable, which he can never afford to be. He considers Wildcat's offer, the blade lowering a bit. Some of the Lodge might be there. He knew better than her who to set to task, who to warn...and then Evans starts up, too many words for him to catch and process them all but all of it damn Yankee lies. He didn't have time to chaperone Evans...but if he sold them all out...a tremor starts up in the injured arm holding the knife and he has to let it fall and look away.

[[9, and you have two of my three chips again. [flicks over a white and a red] I warn you that forcing him to abandon his mission (and possibly doom little Percy wolf) will not end well or improve law/Adder relations.]]
This message was last edited by the player at 22:16, Wed 26 Oct 2011.

Evans looks at Wildcat, then at Carl.

"Thank you." He says as Carl lowers the blade. "Whether you believe me or not, we're on the same side. We must all hang together, or we will most assuredly hang separately." He pauses. "You indicated you were in the middle of task. What was it? Perhaps I can help you expedite it before we head out. There are still some hours to sunset."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:27, Wed 26 Oct 2011.

Carl treats Evans to one of those particularly opaque stares, unable to reveal the fullness of Ward's plans and the things he has to do even if he wanted to. Let them think he was being difficult. He nearly looks to Wildcat like she'll help, what personal pride he has dashed out of him, but can't quite make eye contact.

Watching the mess on the floor, Carl licks at a drop of moisture at the corner of his lip, hoping it's a splash of stray rain rather than blood. Or foam. He clenches his jaw on that thought. Swallowing is excruciating, but he manages it, not shuddering. He nods towards the door, wanting to know if he can go.

In reply to The Generous Salesman (msg #143):

Charging Bear gestures to the hologram Salesman, "That's what the ghost said earlier, but he thought the dynamite might not make my leaving easy as common riff raff might.  So, what ya need?."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:56, Thu 27 Oct 2011.

"Let him at it Marshal.  Ah trust him.  He'll be back in time unless he's dead.  But 'fore he goes, ah got one more thing ta say to ya.  All right here it is.  Deputy, Marshal, Adder, the plan is we hide everyone in City Hall, and we light up the church and rig it with some recently acquired dynamite.  Volunteer inside will ring the bell to complete the illusion.  When Injuns ride up, whole town'll be dark cept for th' church.  Injuns will go straight fer it.  We pick 'em off from the rooftops, turn their raid into an ambush.  Anyone fit to fight who volunteers will be laying in wait wit' me ta give 'em hell.  Anyone who wants to fight that ain't fit, they'll stay in City Hall, in case worse comes ta worse.  Now unless anyone sees any glaring problems with this ideer, ah suggest we see if we can get folks to find anything that can use to barricade that building, and some lanterns and candles to set up in th' church."

Wildcat shrugs.

"Probably gonna lose th' church, but we're gonna lose somethin', ah'd rather it be a building than a person."

He saw Carl glance at his hand, but he didn't seem to take his meaning. Most of the time he spent silently trying to get accustomed to the way folk talked around here. Having spent considerable time outside of Texas, his accent had gotten a little thinner. Especially when the Ranger talked, he had to pay attention. Of course, you always pay attention when a Ranger was talking, but in particular here it was to keep up with everything.

"Wait a second...you wanna rig the church up with dynamite and blow it up?!?" he asked, incredulous. Adrian had never really been a religious man, but he had always sort of respected the sanctity of such things for reasons he couldn't quite care to name. There were things in his life that would cause most folks who were true believers to shun him, at the very least. But if there was any truth to it all, he thought blowing up the Church might be a sure path to hell to deal with the devil for the rest of their days.

He looked to the Marshal and to Carl to see what they thought of this plan.

"No, we bury it just real shallow like around th' church.  Th' Injuns will probably burn it down on their own.  Look, it's th' best ruse we got, even a redskin knows that when people's scairt, they go to th' church.  Look feller, it's just a building, and if its destruction saves folks' lives, its done its job.  God is wherever you are."

"I can see your reasoning, but damn, I mean..." he trailed off, shrugging slightly, not really knowing how to finish his thoughts. He simply shook his head and decided not to make an issue or argument out of it. While naturally sociable, Adrian had never been known to have a way with words, and he thought this a time to let others do most of the talking.

"We got any clue as to how many Comanche there'll be?" For some reason, an image popped into his head of a one eyed man. Something familiar, but he couldn't exactly recall at the moment. Shifting his attention back to present matters, he awaited an answer.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:33, Thu 27 Oct 2011.

Carl echoes the 'around' with a gesture as Wildcat talks, but frowns at the idea of waiting for the injuns to pile wood against the door and throw pitch at it. You'd get maybe three or four of the painted devils that way, then have a bunch of angry savages realising within an instant it was nothing doing and headed off for the next big building. He taps the wall for attention and motions pushing something back. Further away.

The local actually seems to know what he's doing - there's a confidence to him that suggests defending a small town from a raiding force with cavalry isn't entirely foreign to him - but he's still clearly tense with wanting to be getting on with what he has to do.

He gives Adrian the 'lots' gesture again, since there're enough to send out patrols of a half-dozen or more, but no cowboy has ever ridden up to their camp to count them. He glances at Evans - that would be suicide.

"We can't ride out there an' meet 'em feller, too damn many... wait."  Wildcat ponders this through the lens of basic cavalry tactics.  "Put the two ideers tagether, us the lure ta get them ta come toward the church, that'll put 'em in line facing it on their approach, exposing their rear or flank!  But we'd need a lot more horse soldiers to make that work, far as ah know ah'm th' only one we got, an' yer goin' wit' the Marshal ta stall 'em with jaw jackin'."

In reply to Vincent Kaje (msg #60):
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:05, Fri 28 Oct 2011.

Carl shakes his head sharply - hell, not that far...but then frowns a little, pointing/waving a hand in front of his chest as though to indicate more of himself, or him and several others. Why would the Dust Adders fight the law so hard for the town if it were not their own, their home and where their families subsisted? The trouble would be keeping enough of the boys back to guard Ward and the beef cattle.

His hand stills mid-gesture and there's a pensive look before he nods, confirming yes, he's going with Evans. Suddenly he seems a lot less riled about it. He catches Wildcat's eye, making a slight setting-aside gesture. Everyone could work out details later. There's enough plan to start setting up with, and he'll be back if he's not put down.

If not stopped or called back for anything Carl'll head off hastily into the rain.


[[actually, it's mounted raiders he's dealt with, odd Yankee incursions '65- (presumably) onward, elsewhere in the county, but one way or another if you can get them/Carl to trust you you'll have Dust Adders to play with, no fear. Now with Steady Hands! ...am I right, Stray?]]

He looked at Carl as he walked away and shook his head, still not knowing what to make of the man. He remembered back when Carl had stopped talking - it had been big news in the town at the time, and the subject of some not inconsiderable gossip among the local youth, and probably others still. Adrian wasn't much for gossip though, then or now. While the two had never been extremely close friends, you grew to know near about everyone in a small town, and he had liked Carl - something not changed by the sudden silence.

Carl had always had a tough look about him even back then, but it seemed that in the ensuing years he had somewhat grown into it, putting on wiry muscle and some other intangible quality that Adrian couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Well, I hope the negotiatin' goes well. Maybe there ain't no need for killin'," he said. Adrian had killed before, but in truth he had small liking for it.

"But say the whole church thing don't work out - what then? I mean, I don't know everything about Injuns, but I know they can track damn good. If we gather up the whole town, in one place, they may know exactly where they all met up at. They may just go straight for the town hall and then we got all our eggs in one basket. Or they may just happen on in there. Even a blind pig finds an acorn sometimes."

Wildcat shrugs.  "Look if'n we knew ahead of time, we'd a done parked th' army out here.  Ain't got 'nuff men, even if we can get everyone who can wield a scatter gun ta help.  Everyone spread out, wit' no protection, gonna die.  Anyone that can get out on their own, will.  Th' more important thing is we gotta go, an' get folks doin' somethin', if we just leave 'em be, we're all in a world o' hurt.  Come on."

"Well, as I can't say I've done a whole lotta this, I'll just follow yer lead," he said, indicating that the Ranger should take the lead.

Wildcat grins at the Deputy as she walks over toward the church.  "Fellah ah've only done it in a field outside Austin, and the stuffed dummies didn't fight back.  But better we don't tell anyone that right now."

"That is because not only would the explosion of your unstable explosive be dangerous for myself, my TARDIS, and your person, but also this whole town, world, and star system. The possible consequences boggle the mind." The salesman says as he wanders over to the mushroom-shaped control ring and begins pressing a few buttons. "My need is simple. Your employer ordered a gun cabinet. I would like your help lifting it and carrying it outside."

A section of the wall opens, revealing a closet-like space with a tall, glass-windowed cabinet with some ornate scrollwork at the top.



"Now, if you would kindly lift the front, I'll take the rear. Step lively, now."

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #160):

In Reply to Wildcat Hawkins and Adrian Vega:

Please resume posting on the Chapter 12.2 Thread

Evans follows the Dust Adder as he heads off.

((OOC: That's correct.))

In reply to The Generous Salesman (msg #166):

"I suppose that's a fair enough assessment as well. You do seem to have a lot of strange things in this oddly large cart."  Charging Bear says with a note of curiosity in his voice.

"You just happened to have a fancy gun cabinet behind that wall?" The native son points to the cabinet which he promptly begins to help the salesman unload into the 'real world'.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:58, Fri 28 Oct 2011.

Carl'll head for the front of the undertaker's to check on the body and find his hat, since that's closest. He's quite confused the Ranger didn't shout at him for not talking, or missing their agreed time to go to Ward. Strange.

[[Not expecting Evans to be walking behind him, it's unlikely Carl will notice him unless he speaks...sneaking up on him at present would be a bad, bad idea...]]

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #170):

"Indeed." The salesman says as he lifts the back end. "Or rather, I do not have the patience to explain the technical details to you, and you wouldn't understand them anyway, so that is the simplest explanation for it."

The pair of them begin heading out the door.

Given the way the cart is wedged into the storage room, CB has to step out of it entirely to ease it on to the floor. As soon as the top of the cabinet has cleared the cart, however, the Salesman shuts the door. There's a click from the lock.

It looks like this was mostly a ruse to get him outside. There's a strange metallic whooshing, and a light on the top of the cart flashes as the horse and cart vanish into thin air.

Letting out a roar of laughter at the salesman's sly game, Charging Bear is brought nearly to tears by his own foolish trust. "Serves me right I suppose." Looking around, Charging Bear recalls he's not actually finished finding all the dynamite or making sure there are not other unsavory characters lurking in the make-shift jail house. With that in mind, he goes about doing what he was told to by Wildkitten not overly long ago.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #173):

At least Charging Bear got a nice new gun cabinet out of the deal.

As Charging bear heads out, he finds himself noticing that there aren't any people in the building...law men included. Where did Wildcat, Evans, and the other deputies go?

Then he hears a hatefully familiar voice in one of the small offices.

Cantrell.

He seems to be talking to another person, one with an equally distinctive voice. Probably one of the prisoners.

He can't hear what they're saying, but it doesn't seem present to have those two characters together...

Charging Bear resists the temptation to draw pistols or tomahawks as he moves closer to the room to listen in on the conversation.

OOC:
14:44, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,9 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,(6+3)9. Stealth.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:45, Fri 28 Oct 2011.

Rum Tum Tugger knew he had to work fast. That idiot had left him all alone when the church bells began ringing, and the assassin figured he wouldn't get a better chance than this to try to get free.

He didn't know what was going on, and frankly didn't care. This whole botched jailbreak hadn't gone according to plan, and it was time to cut his losses.

The Ranger had cuffed his hands behind him and tied his legs with his own scarf. How humiliating. But Rum Tum Tugger was nothing if not clever and dexterous. It took less than half a minute for him to slide his cuffed hands under his backside and over his legs, getting his hands in front of him. It took hardly any time at all for him to untie the knots in the scarf that bound his legs, either...wool did not make a tight bond.

Now came the hard part. Getting out of the manacles themselves.

first, he tried banging them against the floor. This didn't do much except aggravate the wound in his hip. Great. So these weren't the cheaply-made kind of locks. So he moved over to the unconscious Jenny and removed the tie from her bodice. he twisted the string into a loop, lassoed the end of the screw in the lock and yanked the bolt back. The cuff fell away easily.

"That's how you do it!" He crowed quietly to himself, and made for the window.

Which is when the door opened, and the impossible sauntered in.

"Ask not for whom the bell tolls." The burly black bounty hunter Rum had shot not an hour ago said, with obvious theatrical relish. "For it tolls for thee!"

"Shit!" Rum didn't really have time to wonder just how the man had survived the gut wound he'd suffered. The assassin frankly didn't care, either...it was time to run.

But the office he'd been stuck in had been chosen well. It had bars on the windows. Rum pulled on the bars frantically, hoping they were loose or just for show...no such luck.

The huge bounty hunter was on him in seconds. Rum was slammed against the wall.

"Now, now, boy. None of that." Cantrell growled. "I bet y'all thought you were clever there in the bar, shootin' me down like that. But you know what? I got me a friend in Jesus, and he done felt my time here on Earth wasn't finished. He sent me a doctor to fish that bullet you put in me out, and then stitched me up so well I could dance a jig if I felt like it. So unless you want me to mess up that face o' yours some more, I suggest you sit quiet-like until everything calms down."

The bounty hunter kicked him in the gut for good measure, sending the assassin sprawling and struggling to keep his lunch in.

"Ain't life grand?" The bounty hunter grinned.

"Don't seems so, right now." Rum grunted, finding his voice again. "I'm sure you're harboring some resentment over our little duel earlier. Hell, I sympathize. But we can work something out."

((OOC: This is about the point where CB enters the picture.))

Cantrell began laughing. "Work something out? You're a pissant little viper, crawling in the muck. Well, guess what? Now you're locked in here with the big ol' kingsnake, and brother, let me tell you this. Only thing I want from you is the chance to watch you swing from the nearest gallows pole."

"Would you take cash instead?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Rum pulled himself into a ball, then pushed himself into a sitting position. "I said, would you like some cash instead? 'Cause I know where you can get lots of it. More than my bounty is worth. Hell, more than the price on any of our heads. Would that interest you?"

"Let me get this straight. You shot me up, left me for dead, tried to break out your friends, and then got yourself captured, and you think you're gonna just buy your way out of it?"

"That about sums it up. By know we've all been searched. And I'll bet you're wondering, where is the payment we got for taking out the Ranger? Not a one of us had in on them. So, you got to be asking yourself, where is it all?" The assassin grinned. "Well, we got it hid. Wouldn't do to carry that much on us. And beleive me, it's a substantial amount. Someone really wanted the bitch dead. We're talking thousands. And it can all be yours..."

"If I were to just let you waltz away."

"Right in one."

The crowd at the undertaker's place has noticeably thinned...hopefully most of the folk around have gone to the church by now. But there are a few people about tending to the wounded...and the dead.

Molly is in the hands of a couple other women, who are looking over her bites.

Mrs. Sutherland is wailing over the body of her husband.

From behind Carl comes a voice. "Dear lord...it looks like a tornado hit this place."

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #176):

While he didn't expect Cantrell to let the man go, Charging Bear drew a pistol from the rig he'd 'borrowed' from Jenny Anydots and waited quietly figuring he might get the drop on Rum Tum Tugger.

OOC: Exciting I know...

Carl involuntarily turns his head a little at the voice behind him, then nods Evans at the corpse, since it seems he wants to tag along, approaching Molly.

Knife now sheathed and currently-empty shotgun under his arm, he shows her and her friends the bits of cougar as though they were no more than snake skins, indicates she should pick up and smell one.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #178):

"Let me ask you this." Cantrell says. "Even assuming I were interested in your blood money, what's to stop me from shooting you down after you tell me the location? The price on your head is for 'dead or alive,' after all."

"What am I worth to you, exactly? A hundred bucks? two?"

"About $300, actually."

"Still a drop in the bucket compared to this. Hardly worth your time to collect. I'm guessing you haven't been too successful here in town. You know they released the redskin. Just let him go, according to my partners in crime. Doesn't that just burn your biscuits? Why, I bet he's sneaking around right now, about to get a crack at his next victim. And what do you have to show for it all? Have you managed to collect a single bounty? Let me go, and you'll be rich, without them ever having to know about it. And you'll have the bounties from my companions, to boot. Easy money."

There's a pause.

"I'm listenin'." The bounty hunter growls at last. "What did you have in mind?"

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #179):

Molly is terrified, but the bite seems superficial. Still, if that thing was rabid she needs to be looked at by a doctor. Immediately.

"Carl!" She cries in recognition as he approaches. "Where's John? Am I gonna die? Where is that thing? Is it dead? Where'd the undertaker go?" She's borderline hysterical, probably just speaking to keep from fainting dead away.

Carl takes her uninjured arm/hand and drops a claw into it, putting the other scraps away whilst he fishes out his flask. Taking her wrist in his fingers gently but firmly like he'd tend an injured horse, Carl carefully extends her arm, bares the wound where the ladies have sensibly torn and folded the cloth away from it, and douses the injury in the last of the liquor.

The shock should do the work of a slap in the face, and the alcohol did something Carl attributed to magic, or rather medicine, kept wounds from taking bad...though if the cat was rabid no medicine on earth is going to save either of them. He shrugs as to where the undertaker's gone, and looks to see what Evans is doing/whether he's wandered off, fighting to ignore the thirst and keep the tremor from his hands.

Charging Bear remains quiet, So who's going to shot who in there? He crouched down on the wall and waited.

"Here's my plan. You get me to the stables, let me on a horse, and I'll drop the location on a piece of paper as I ride out of town. You collect it under the pretense of 'chasing me down' and viola! You're a rich man!"

Cantrell frowns. "Wow. What a horrible plan. You must think I'm a complete moron. I got a better idea. How about I kick the shit out of you until you squeal like a pig, I go collect it, and turn it over to the Ranger and score some points in her book...after I collect myself a finder's fee from it first. Yeah, that sounds better to me." He begins advancing on the convict.

"Hey! Wait a minute now!" Rum protests, then starts shrieking as Cantrell kicks him in his wounded side.

"Come on now! Squeal, boy! Squeal like a pig for me!" Cantrell laughs as he delivers another kick.

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #182):

She hisses in pain as the alcohol does its work, and clutches the claw in her fist tight. It seems to comfort her, nonetheless.

Evans is holding his top hat over his chest solemnly, and saying something to Mrs. Sutherland. He catches Carl's glance, nods at the body, then nods to the undertaker's shop.

Carl rubs the muscles under the wound, spreading the alcohol after anything that might've got in there before letting her flex the limb. He indicates Molly should smell the claw again, but swiftly looks to the others and nods churchwards. If the undertaker was around he'd probably be there.

Carl tries the shop door, finds it locked, and shrugs at Evans as he walks over to those two. He touches Mrs.- Widow Sutherland on the shoulder and tries to send her churchward, too. When she looks away he'll indicate Evans' gun, the corpse, his head, then go look for his hat. He whistles sharply to the rain, in the very faint hope Hoss might hear him.


[[with 2 Ride before any distance/rain/terror penalties, I think not...]]

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #186):

Molly nods and rushes off in a daze toward the church.

The widow soon follows her. Evans nods to show he understands, then nods toward the undertaker's shop again. Apparently he's interested in a discreet place to do the deed.

There's a sign on the shop.

"Closed Indefinitely
P.S.
I QUIT!"

Grey eyes watch after the woman a moment. Perhaps they had a chance, if the catamount'd been dead awhile...or at least, she did. Even without rabies, Carl's body was failing, and he felt the strong urge to go home, even though his old dog had vanished somewhere between his aunt spiriting him to Victoria and his walking home, and he couldn't hide under any woodpile no more. He missed Death, though he didn't want to die.

Carl ignores Evans, and the sign - if Evans didn't see him try and fail to get into the place, that sign probably says something like 'closed' and Carl isn't interested in hauling a deadweight through the window. If Evans could drag him, he could drag a corpse, and good luck to him. Carl sets his hat on his head, his rope on his uninjured shoulder, and heads for the Lodge (unless someone's house is nearer). They had ways of getting messages to their own he didn't understand or want to know about.

He pauses only at a waterbutt to drink, fast and desperately. It borders agony, and for one bloody instant he understands the mad dog's urge to tear skin, have some kind of liquid in one's mouth without the fight to find and swallow the smashed-glass punishment of water. Carl shudders and heads on. He has no idea what to do about his arm, but figures rain'll wash it.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:33, Tue 01 Nov 2011.

<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDZBgHBHQT8">some mood music</a>

The Lodge of the Enlightened Society of the Weeping Moon always gave passersby a chill. It was one of the few stone structures in Blackthorn, and though it was one of the newer structures in town it already had a patina of age around it. It had always reminded Carl of a large mausoleum rather than a temple or meeting hall.

It seemed darker around the Lodge tonight. Perhaps it was the rain or the rapidly fading daylight, or perhaps it was just the place itself.

Hopefully, no one was inside, and he'd be free to try somewhere else to deliver his message. City hall to talk to the mayor, perhaps, though pushing through the crowd around the church wasn't appealing. Or perhaps he could find Hoss and ride out to the Widow Bradshaw's home. Either of those options would take time, though. Time the town might not have.

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #184):

Charging Bear let Cantrell get in one more kick before he steps through door way and overly dramatically cocks hammer of the very pretty Colt. "Don't think Evans would care much for this type of thing Cantrell... it didn't got over well with the Army either."

Jericho whirls, and suddenly there's a huge gun with a bowie knife bayonet pointed at Charging Bear. "You." Jericho growls, forcing years of bitter resentment into that one syllable. The assassin on the floor groans and clutches his stomach. "I've been lookin' forward to this."

Charging Bear looks at Cantrell and shakes his head slightly, "So you'd like a bullet in your brain? Why don't you take a seat before ya do something you regret."

"Only thing I regret is that you ain't in the cage where you belong." Cantrell growls. "Y'all may have the Marshal and the Ranger fooled, but I know exactly what you are. I've always known. You put on an act, get everyone thinkin' your some kind o' noble savage type, then you turn on 'em. You're nothin' but a low-down snake crawling through the grass, Charging Bear."

"You talk a mighty tough for a man who was just kicking an unarmed man." Charging Bear's eyes narrowed on Cantrell, watching other man's shoulders and hip for where he was likely to try to stick that nasty looking bowie knife bayonet. "Did ya momma teach you not to play with guns and knives, ya likely to get ya self hurt."

OOC: Is Cantrell's previous wound obvious? i.e. his shirt ripped open, bandages showing, etc etc?

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #194):

"Says the rapist," growls Jericho. "This here's just another snake, gettin' what's coming to him. You'll get what's comin' to you, too. You don't want to go back in your cage, that's fine. I can just as easily stick you six feet under."

((OOC: And the duel begins! Draw 2 cards for your hole cards and roll Intimidate/Taunt.

This will be a slightly atypical duel, in that both combatants have weapons drawn already, but it shouldn't mess with the process any.

You can see the bandages, yes.))

"You keep calling me that, and you don't even know what happened. Just got a beef with me cause I stood up for women and children who couldn't stand up for themselves."

OOC: I do have Dodge, which will hopefully help out some here.
11:52, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,2 using 1d4-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of (4+1)5,4. Taunt (-2 Untrained).
Well that's a fail.

11:54, Today: Charging Bear drew the 2 cards: AH, 7S using the Deadlands system. Hold Cards.
We'll see what that does

"Hell yes I have a beef with you. You resented a black man getting what a redskin never could - an officer commission in the CSA. It rankled you so much that you had to break the chain of command and smear my good name. But guess what? I'm still here. Even God Himself wouldn't let me go. What chance do you think you have?"

((OOC: 09:07, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 3,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Intimidate. Yeah, that beats CB, though only just. You get a -2 penalty on your Shooting roll.

On to the next step!

09:13, Today: The Stray drew the 3 cards: 10S, 2C, 8D using the Deadlands system. Luck O' The Draw.

Do you want to Shoot or Pass and add a card?))

OOC: Considering I got squat ... I'll pass and let you draw a card

((OOC: Cantrell Passes as well. Next card!

10S, 2C, 8D, 5S

Pass or Shoot?))

OOC: Pass

((OOC: Cantrell Passes as well.

10S, 2C, 8D, 5S, 3S.

Time to show the hands. Cantrell had 9S, 2C as his Hole Cards. CB had AH, 7S as his.

That's a Pair for Cantrell and Squat for Charging Bear. That means Cantrell gets an extra d6 for damage.

Time to shoot!

Do you go for Quick Draw or Accuracy? If you go for quick draw, you get a -2 penalty (which stacks with the penalty CB already has for losing the face-off) but you get to shoot first. If you go for accuracy, you get no additional penalty and can use the Marksman edge if you have it (Cantrell has it). No double-taps or fanning the hammer on this.))

OOC: CB has Quick Draw ... does that help?

Assuming it does here's my LOVERLY roll

13:16, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,1 using 1d8-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3. Shooting (-2 Face Off).

Think I'm going to save my last fate chip for my soak/incap table roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:16, Tue 01 Nov 2011.

Although he didn't know what a mausoleum was, Carl considered the place probably looked like one of them heathen temples where they burnt goats and things in ancient times; disliking its style and feel was one of the few things he and Alistair Grath agreed on.

It was a few steps out of his way to reach the lodge door, but the tyler was usually around, and Ward had told him to alert the place as well as the...higher-up-whatd'youcallits, so Carl troubles to knock. If he gets no reply he'll just double back and cross the road to the livery: the injun wouldn't be using his horse any time soon and she'd looked like a good animal when he'd checked her over, age notwithstanding.

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #202):

Charging Bear's gun barks, but the shot goes wild.

Jericho sneers, takes aim, and fires. And suddenly Charging Bear's hand explodes in pain...

((OOC: It does, actually...as Wildcat pointed out, it negates the -2 penalty for the MAP. Still, a miss is a miss, and Jericho is going to take his time with this one.

He opts to shoot for accuracy, since then he can get his Marksman edge. The +2 he gets is modified -1 by Charging Bear's Dodge. And because of Cantrell's Arrogant hindrance, he's going to further try to humiliate Charging Bear rather than shoot him cleanly, so he's going to attempt to shoot Charging Bear's gun out of his hand (a nonlethal disarm attack at a total of -4, but as he hasn't spent any chips and I have plenty of GM chips, he's confident he can pull this off).

his total mod is +2 -1 -4 = -3

17:03, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 0,1 using d10-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Fancy Shootin'! no. Spending a White Chip for a reroll.

17:03, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 4,-1 using d10-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 7,2. White Chip. That's a Hit.

Damage: He gets +1d6 for winning the Luck o' the Draw phase.

17:06, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 10 using 3d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2,5. Damage. That's a Shaken and 1 wound for Charging Bear, plus he needs to roll Strength and beat 10 to keep hold of his gun.

Draw Cards for Initiative!

17:09, Today: Jericho Cantrell drew the single card: 7C using the Deadlands system. Initiative.))

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #203):

There's silence for a brief moment, long enough for Carl to consider leaving but not long enough for him to actually do so. The door grinds open. A very large figure fills the doorway.


"Yeeeesssss?" says the very, very big man in a black pall-bearer's suit who opens the door and looks down at Carl. Jesus, he's almost as big as Tex. "Yoouuuuuuu...Knoooooooocked?"

Carl tilts his head further up so that the tyler can see it's him - Ward's mute driver. "..."

He points into the lodge, makes a gathering gesture and points towards the ranch. By the state of him and the urgency of the gestures, it should get across that it's important.

There doesn't seem to be much recognition in the giant butler's eyes. Nor much intelligence or active thought, for that matter. "Onnnne Moooooomeeeeent." He says, and vanishes into the darkness within.

He returns rather more than one moment later. "Ennnnnterrrrr." he bids, standing aside for the cowboy to do so.

Carl is confused by this behaviour, but is only one step down by the time the tyler returns and tells him to go in. He certainly looks confused at that, and turns the look up at the giant. "?"

Perhaps Whatley was in town early, it being Friday afternoon...but if so, why wasn't he out at the church seeing where the fire was?

The giant stands stock still. He doesn't even seem to be breathing, come to think of it, though he's always looked like that as far as Carl can remember. Mr. Lurch wasn't particularly sociable around town. Kept to himself mostly. For all Carl knew about the man, he lived on the lodge grounds. In fact, all Carl really knew about him was that he showed up shortly after the Lodge was completed.

That, and dogs hated him. No hound would set foot within 20 feet of the Lodge while he was in residence (which was almost always), and those canines that came near the grounds while he was outside tending the garden snarled and barked their heads off. More than once Carl had heard tell of a hound breaking it's leash and running when Mr. Lurch was nearby.

"Ennnnterrrrr." The giant repeats, this time pointing into the darkness of the Lodge.

Carl gives the tyler a look that suggests he really isn't being very helpful, then strides in, shoulders pre-emptively bracing a little against the big fellow's tendancy to slam doors and imminent clastrophobia. Not a mine, he reassures himself, trailing his good hand on the wall and a little surprised at the strength of his fear. They could certainly do with some more lights in here.

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #204):
OOC: Burning my last chip to soak...
07:24, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,3 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,3. Soak.
The dice roller hates me. I'm going to hat this but ... I play my Reinforcements card and pulling 2 fate chips
07:34, Today: Charging Bear rolled 27,10 using 1d35,1d35, rerolling max with rolls of 27,10. Fate Chips.
One white and one red. Using the white to re-roll my vigor
07:35, Today: Charging Bear rolled 20,9 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (8+8+4)20,(6+3)9. Soak Roll x2.
That'll cover my wound and shaken... leaving me with 1 red chip just like I started with

Now Strength vs 10
07:37, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1,2 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2. Strength.
Well that's an EPIC fail

Last but not least Initiative!
07:38, Today: Charging Bear drew the single card: KS using the Deadlands system. Initiative.

---

Charging Bear let the gun drop as Cantrell shot it, he had doubts that weapon would survive such a brutal shot. An instant later Charging Bear has his favored tomahawks in hand an closed the distance between himself and Cantrell. "You want to see what a redskin can do... fine!" The wicked looking weapons slice through the air around Cantrell but Charging Bear can't seem to connect.

OOC:
07:50, Today: Charging Bear rolled 5,5,1,0 using 1d8,1d6,1d8-2,1d6-2. Fightingx2 (Two Fisted).
Burning my red chip
07:50, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,1,0,0 using 1d8,1d6,1d8-2,1d6-2. Fighting reroll.
So the dice roller does hate me...

Jericho fends off Charging Bear's attacks with his gunblade, blocking his strikes and grinning.

He flips a Bowie knife into his left hand and strikes back, slashing furiously. Cloth rips as Cantrell's blade fin their mark, and pain flares.

"You really sure you want to do this, son?" Cantrell growls. "Give up now and >ERK!<"

A chain wraps around his throat, choking off Cantrell's gloating. The assassin in the large floppy hat and colorful scarf grins as he pulls the chain tight. "Didn't want you to forget about me."

Cantrell roars and rocks his head back, slamming the back of his skull into Rum Tum Tugger's nose. The assassin cries and staggers back, releasing him.

But Rum isn't the only Jellicle up and about. Charging Bear is grabbed from behind in a Nelson. "I'm sorry for this, but hold still." Says them man Charging Bear met earlier running from the scene of the crime.

The girl is up, too, her corset flopping open to reveal her petticoats. She give Charging Bear a wicked grin as he struggles with the other. She hefts a chair and slams it into his face. Charging Bear sees stars.

---

OOC: here's what your reinforcements card will do...The Jellicles are now back in play! Each of the Jellicles will heal 2 of their wounds (leaving them each with one) and get them conscious again.

Initiative for the three Jellicles: Jenny 6H, McCavity 8C, Rum Tum Tugger 7C

McCavity is going to hold until Rum goes. Rum and Cantrell go at the same time.

Rum is using an improvised weapon (his manacles, Str+d4, -1 Parry, -1 Attack, may use damage die on grapples). The other Jellicles haven't actually been given manacles yet, so they are unarmed.

Jericho, focused on Charging Bear, doesn't see the threat of the Jellicles. He Quick Draws a bowie knife for his off hand, and uses his Two-Fisted edge to swing twice.

10:37, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 6,5,7,2 using d10,d6,d10-2,d6-2. Attacks. Ouch. Two hits.

Hit with Bayonet: 10:38, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 4,1 using d6,d4. damage. 5 damage. Nothing but cosmetic.

Hit with Bowie Knife: 10:39, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 1,5 using d6,d4+1. Damage. 6 Damage. That will make Charging Bear Shaken.

Rum Tum Tugger gets his attack next. He springs up on Cantrell and attempts a Grapple with his manacles. His current penalties are -1 (for wound), -1 (improvised weapon)

After blowing 2 white chips, his best roll is 1, And I realize there's a new bug in the die roller that clicks off the default settings if I switch game systems (such as for drawing cards). -_-' Ah, well. Lesson learned.

Still, Rum fails to get a grip. Jericho can beat that Grapple without trying.

Up next is McCavity, who is going to grab at Charging Bear. He has a -1 penalty to his attack from his wound.

10:56, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 2,0 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 3,1. Grapple! no. Spending a chip.
10:56, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 2,6 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 3,(6+1)7. White Chip. Better. But let's add a chip to the total.
10:57, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 4 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4. Red Chip. That means McCavity has a total of 10

Charging Bear is still Shaken from Cantrell's attack, but he gets a reflexive Fighting roll to oppose the grapple. Good luck!

Meanwhile, Jenny Quick Draws a chair to use as an improvised weapon (str + d6, -1 atk, -1 Parry) and is interested in bashing Charging Bear over the head with it. She has a -2 attack (-1 wound, -1 improvised).

11:02, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 15,2 using d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+5)17,4. Chair to the face! Wow. The die roller really DOES hate Charging Bear today. That's a hit and raise.

11:04, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 7 using 3d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1,5. Damage. I guess it doesn't hate him all that much. That would only make him Shaken. But since CB is already Shaken, that's 1 Wound.

---

Next round:
Rum Tum Tugger: QS
Jenny Anydots: 10D
Charging Bear: 8H
McCavity: 6D
Jericho Cantrell: 5C
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Wed 02 Nov 2011.

OOC:
14:25, Today: Charging Bear drew the single card: 8H using the Deadlands system. Initiative.
As I'm out of chips I can't  do anything about the shaken from Cantrell

---

Strength vs 10 for grapple
14:28, Today: Charging Bear rolled 2,1 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,1. Strength.
Grappled and with a wound + shaken ... and down the slippery slope of wounds and shaken'ness Charging Bear does

Rum wraps the chain around his arm and punches Cantrell in his wounded gut. The big man grunts, but doesn't seem particularly hurt.

"You're gonna regret that, boy." The bounty hunter growls.

Meanwhile, Jenny takes the chair and begins laying into CB wildly. "THAT'S for escaping my shot! And THAT'S for hitting me in the face! And THAT'S for trying to undress me while I was out!"

Those stars the native son is seeing multiply...

((OOC: So not only is CB grappled, he's Shaken. But since he was already Shaken, it doesn't do much.

Up next is RTT and Jenny Anydots!

Rum is going to whack at Jericho with his Improvised Chain.

11:37, Today: Rum Tum Tugger rolled -1,3 using d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,5. Fighting. Spending a chip on that.
11:37, Today: Rum Tum Tugger rolled 4 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4. Red Chip. That's a total of 7, enough to beat Cantrell's Parry.
11:37, Today: Rum Tum Tugger rolled 8,5 using d6,d4, rerolling max with rolls of (6+2)8,(4+1)5. Damage. 13 damage. That's a Shaken and 1 Wound for Cantrell.

11:44, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 4,1 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,1. Soak Roll. Cantrell spends a chip and soaks the wound. Sucks to be RTT.

Meanwhile, Jenny is going to go to town, Wild Attacking CB with the chair. She has the Gang-up bonus, as well, so her attack is at a net +1.

11:47, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 6,6 using d6+1,d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 5,5. Fighting. That's a hit. Since she's Wild Attacking, she gets +2 damage.

11:48, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 17 using 2d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of (6+5)11,4. Damage. So that's 2 more wounds for Charging Bear. Ow. I'm guessing she's feeling resentful over him whacking her unconscious earlier.

It's CB's turn. Remember, you can still do free actions (such as, say, attempting to Play Dead with a Smarts roll) while Shaken.))
This message was last edited by the player at 19:09, Wed 02 Nov 2011.

OOC: Let's try the Spirit to unshake
15:03, Today: Charging Bear rolled -1,12 using 1d6-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+6+2)14. Unshake (-2Wounds).
That'll do it!

---

Charging Bear's brain tries to come up with an idea on how to turn things around... Play dead stupid comes to mind.

OOC: Going to give that a go
15:04, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,3 using 1d6-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,5. Smarts (-2 Wound).
and fail!
15:06, Today: Charging Bear drew the single card: 4S using the Deadlands system. Initiative.

This message was last edited by the player at 19:06, Wed 02 Nov 2011.

"Jenny, that's enough. He's out." The man holding Charging Bear says. "Go help Rum."

The man lowers the native son to the ground. "I've done what I can." he whispers to Charging Bear. "I must insist you stay down, sir. She means to kill you. Don't give her an excuse."

---

((OOC: McCavity makes an opposed roll to see through CB's trick.

12:15, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 4,1 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 5,2. Smarts. That'll do it.

But since McCavity is the least bloodthirsty of his gang, he's going to try and help CB out with a bluff of his own.

12:15, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 7,2 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of (6+2)8,3. Smarts.
12:16, Today: The Jellicle Gang rolled 0,6 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+1)7. opposed Smarts.

With that, He's convinced Jenny to leave CB alone for a bit.))

Jericho roars and lays into the colorful assassin, tearing through the man's coat. Though the assassin is not seriously hurt, the ferocity of the attack sends him reeling.

"Some help here, please!" he shouts.

((OOC: Cantrell attacks Rum with his dual weapons.

12:21, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 4,14,5,9 using d10,d6,d10-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 4,(6+6+2)14,7,(6+5)11. Attacks. That's two hits with Raises on RTT.

Bayonet: 11 Damage to RTT (Shaken, 1 wound)

Chip to soak: 12:25, Today: Rum Tum Tugger rolled 10,2 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of (6+5)11,3. Soak Roll. Success.

Bowie: 8 Damage to RTT (just a Shaken).))

---

Next Round:
Jericho Cantrell: RJ!
McCavity: 8S
Rum Tum Tugger: 7H
Charging Bear: 4S
Jenny: 4D

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #210):

There is, indeed, a thunderous BOOM! as the door closes behind Carl, leaving him in darkness.

Well, semi-darkness. There are a few lamps lit in the room, which resembles a cross between a temple and a throne room. Tapestries and portraits line the walls, and velvet-lined benches surround the altar at the center. Against the far wall are some throne-like high-backed wooden chairs. In the corner is a chair and desk, and the lone figure inside the lodge sits at it.

He's a dapper but rail-thin man with wavy raven-dark hair, a bushy mustache, and an intense green stare. He looks a lot like an undertaker, despite his gray suit. He's handsome, but there's something...off about him. He's writing something in an enormous ledger. He doesn't get up when Carl enters.

Carl keeps walking, hand on the wall, until his eyes adjust. He's greatly relieved at the size of the place, but doesn't afford it more than a sweeping glance as he advances on Whateley - yes, it is Whateley down there - belatedly removes his hat and at last taps the desk for attention.

*taptap*

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #219):

The man looks up at the tap, looks at Carl, then frowns and sighs. "Ah. Allans. What do you want?"

Whateley wasn't very social, either. Though he was seen around town, he didn't mingle much with those in Carl's circle of the social strata. He wasn't a native, either...he appeared after the Lodge opened.

Carl studies the green eyes a moment, surprised the man remembered his name, then points at the fellow's skinny chest and more urgently towards the ranch. "..." His hindbrain is trying to tell him something about the building's smell, but he ignores it. If Whateley recognised him as Ward's, he'd recognise the command of his equal? higher-up? lodge-brother and surely jump to it.

[['night!]]

"Well? Speak up, man." Whateley replies. He can remember Carl's name, but can't remember he's a mute? "I don't have all night. Or did you just come here to waste my time?"

That smell...what was wrong with it? there was incense, yes...but something else. Like the incense was masking something worse...

((OOC: No post for Alouette?))

Carl looks bemused, then sketches a wet/bloody circle-W on the desk, head tilted to get it the right way up for Whateley, points at him again, then the symbol. His throat hurts too much to even contemplate trying to speak, but he's running out of patience. The mute's annoyance and injuries alone preclude it being a joke.

[[JohnJohn hadn't fixed his as of 1:20am, it wasn't my turn...you seeking some sort of Persuasion roll here, or just waiting until Carl gets fed up enough to bop him over the head and carry him out?]]

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #223):

The man wrinkles his nose at the bloody print on the desk. His grimace curls into a nasty sneer.

"So Ward's house of cards is beginning to crumble under him and he's trying to get the rest of us to clean up his mess. And the best he can send is a half-addled mute to plead his case? Pathetic."

He pushes himself away from the desk, stands, and straightens his suit.

"Message received, lackey. Now run along and watch Rome burn. I have a sad song to play on the world's smallest violin for your master."

((OOC: We sorted that out in PM's and Orwellian edits...and he didn't do much that interfered with Alouette's actions.

Also, Arthur is mocking Carl now. Roll Smarts as an opposed roll against his Taunt (he rolled 5).))

Carl's mute snarl goes completely unnoticed as Arthur stands and prepares to do...something unhelpful. Carl was fully aware there were reasons you didn't see a limping wolf in the wild, but he'd never applied the idea to Masons. Did they fight, shirtless at midnight, when questions of leadership arose? Maybe that was the pugleing Ward spoke of.

The mute shrugs, puts his hat back on, then bats the book off the desk and slams a foot down on it (however it landed) whilst he reloads. Clearly he means to take the accounts or whatever as proof he was here, and feels he may soon have shooting to do.

[[7 vs. ToW, semi-epic Intimidate fail with my red dropped on a reroll]]

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #217):

Cantrell wasn't one to do down without a fight. He kept the big LeMat pointed at Rum Tim and squeezed the trigger. Which of course made the gun bark, just as he slashed at the bandit with his big bowie knife.

09:01, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 6,7,4,1 using 1d10+2,1d6+2,1d10,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,5,4,1. Attacks (Shooting, Fighting).
09:02, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 11 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 5,5. Damage.
Guessing a 7 hits, 13 damage to RTT

09:06, Today: Jericho Cantrell drew the single card: AH using the Deadlands system. Initiative.

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #225):

Arthur narrows his eyes at the shotgun being reloaded in his presence. "Now, that's impolite." He says. "But as long as your here, perhaps you can help me with something. May I have five minutes of your time?"

Carl pretends to be deaf - many strangers assumed he was - looking up with no more than a curious sort of 'still here? Weren't you going fiddling?' look a second or so after the reprimand, as though his attention were caught by movement.

As to the request, he points from Whateley to the door. It's only worth his time if the man comes with him.

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #226):

((OOC: Jericho has the Marksman edge, didn't have to draw the gun, and hasn't moved since his last turn, so that hit with the gun gets the extra +2 bonus, making it a Raise. You get an extra d6 of damage. Also, As RTT's Parry is 4 right now from the improvised weapon, the Bowie Knife hit. Roll damage, please.))

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #228):

"Oh no, I can't leave. I have something important I'm working on here. But I recognize the curse mark on your head, and I might be able to do something about that. Please, just five minutes of your time."

Carl snorts. You go on show your project to the Comanche, sure they'll appreciate it. Loony. he thinks. The irony of being offered his span back once probably facing a slow, equally horrible death by true rabies on his survival was pretty funny. He doubs Whateley could do it straight off if Ward couldn't, anyway. Carl picks up the tome, and unless a better offer can be made, heads for the exit.

Don't have five minutes for that.

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #231):

"Excuse me." Arthur says, grabbing at the tome Carl picked up. "That's not yours."

Carl nudges him away with the muzzle of the shotgun, because that is.

Arthur frowns at the gun. "Very well. Enough of this. You've forgotten your place, Lackey. It's high time you were reminded of it." He looks into the gloom. "Mr. Lurch, remove my property from Mr. Allans and beat him into a quivering pulp. If he shoots me, kill him."

There's a groan, and then a series of heavy footfalls as the giant appears out of the gloom...

((OOC: Draw a card for initiative!))

---

Arthur Whateley: JD
Mr. Lurch: 7D
Carl Allans: Not Drawn Yet

Carl glances over there, judging distance, then throws the book flat to Whateley, stepping in and bringing the butt of his gun up hard under the man's chin as he catches the tome on reflex.

[[init: JC
...fighting 8. Damage can has?]]

((OOC: Do you want to attempt an Agility Trick with that throw? Agility -2 vs. His Agility, but the chance of making him lose 2 parry and possibly even making him Shaken. Or do you just want that as a special effect?

I'll call the Shotgun an Improvised Medium weapon for this purpose. -1 Attack for the improvisation, but 7 is still more than enough to hit him. Roll Str + d6 for damage. Also, card for next round, please.))

In reply to The Stray (msg #229):

OOC: More damage? I can dig it

07:34, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 5,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,4. Damage.
07:35, Today: Jericho Cantrell rolled 3 using 1d4, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Damage.

So that's 18 and 9 damage ....

[[nah, just seemed the obvious thing to do.
5 + 3 = 8 damage, and y'know, I'll drop my Adventure Card (Deadly Blow) on that to make it a solid 16 - have  a blue. ]]

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #237):

((OOC: I see (4+3) 7 damage there for the bowie knife...8 with the +1 bowie bonus. Not 9. Anyhoo...))

The shot does most of the work. The assassin with the colorful scarf goes down in a quivering heap.

"Jenny!" McCavity calls, reaching down over Charging Bear's fallen form and pulling the other ivory-handled revolver from his gun belt. "Time to leave!"

((OOC: RTT is facing 3 wounds from the shot and then a Shaken from the second, which either make him wounded or not matter at all. He opts to go down and keep his chips for the Incapacitation roll. Thanks to his Hard To Kill edge, he suffers no wound penalties on this.

09:22, Today: Rum Tum Tugger rolled 1,3 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. Incapacitation. Ugh. Spending a White.

09:23, Today: Rum Tum Tugger rolled 2,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2. White Chip. Double Ugh. Spending a Red for a bonus.

09:23, Today: Rum Tum Tugger rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. Red Chip. Tha, combined with his better roll of 3, makes 8, so a Raise. He's out of the fight but only has a temporary wound. The wound is to his guts, reducing his Agility by one die.

McCavity spends his action looting Charging Bear of Jenny's second pistol. He has the Marksman edge, so it's to his advantage to stay where he is.

His card for next round: KH

RTT is out of this fight, so no action this turn.))

---

Up Next: Charging Bear

In reply to The Jellicle Gang (msg #239):

OOC: You forgot the +2 for the joker... so it would be 10 as I missed the +1 from the bowie itself... oops

In reply to Jericho Cantrell (msg #240):

((OOC: True. Still something of a moot point, as the first hit was enough to drop him and a character can't suffer more than 4 wounds at a time (he started this fight with 1 wound).))

OOC: Going on hold!

Jenny looks over the situation. Rum was down, the Indian who'd shamed her was down, and McCavity was calling for a retreat. She could charge the big black guy with her chair, but wasn't sanguine about her chances. And her bodice was still open, adding to her general irritation.

Still, running seemed to be the best course. She dropped the chair and ducked out the door, running down the hall at all speed.

((OOC: She rolls 4 for her run die. Added to her current Pace of 5, that's 9 squares she can move this round. Unless CB wants to interrupt her action, that's what she'll do. CB?

Jenny's next card: 2D))

OOC: I'm going to let her go

Next Round for Jericho and CB:

Jericho Cantrell: AH
McCavity: KH
Jenny Anydots: 2D
Charging Bear: On Hold

Cantrell is currently a couple yards from McCavity, and he has 7 shots left in his LeMat. RTT is out, CB is playing dead, and Jenny is down the corridor and will be out the building before Jericho can get to her.

Would you like to handle this as normal combat or as a duel?

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #238):

Blood gushes from Arthur's nose and he staggers back from the blow clutching his face. "Not the face!" He shrieks. "Not my pretty face!"

Mr. Lurch eyes the scene. Well. Property returned. All well and good. Now on to the second part of his order...beating the man into a fine paste.

A massive fist sledgehammers down at Carl. The cowboy is able to leap out of the way just in time, leaving the tiles to take the brunt of the blow. The floor cracks just a bit from the force.

((OOC: Ouch. That's 3 wounds to Arthur. He spend a white chip and attempt to soak...

He rolls 5, spends his Red chip for a bonus...5. Total of 10. That soaks 2 wounds. Arthur still has 1 Wound and is Shaken.

He spends his action attempting to unshake.

11:47, Today: Arthur Whateley rolled 6,3 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,3. Roll to unshake. He's no longer Shaken, but loses his action this round.

Mr. Lurch goes, moving up to Carl and swinging at him with his massive fists.

11:49, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 1,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2. Fighting! Swing and a miss.))

---

Next Round:
Lurch: KH
Arthur: 6H
Carl: not Drawn Yet

This message was last edited by the player at 19:24, Fri 04 Nov 2011.

Carl frowns, attention on Mr.Lurch. Seems he was a bit less literal than Tex. Damn.

[[Sorry! I obediently drew this morning & forgot to post it. 6C]]

Again the massive Mr. Lurch swings, and again Carl is able to dodge out of the way.

"No." Arthur grunts from behind him. "No, that won't do at all. Stand still!" For an instant, a hand of ghostly cards can be seen in his hand. He flicks the spectral cards at the cowboy, and they change in mid-flight to hissing translucent snakes which start coiling and crushing him...

((OOC: Mr. Lurch goes for another swing.

15:26, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 1,1 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. Fighting! Really? No. Spending one of Lurch's White Chips on that.

15:30, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 1,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. White Chip. slightly better, but still not a hit.

Arthur gets to go now. He's going to use some black magic to hinder Carl in the form of and Entangle spell.

15:36, Today: Arthur Whateley rolled 1,3 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. Spellcasting. Die roller doesn't like me today. Spending a chip to aid that.
15:37, Today: Arthur Whateley rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. Red Chip.

Total of 8. Carl, make an Agility roll vs. 8 or suffer -2 to Pace and Agility and strength-based Skills (such as attack rolls). If you fail by 4 or more, you're going to be fully restrained (no movement, Parry of 2, and can't use ANY skills linked to Agility or Strength until you break free).))

Carl instinctively flinches a little, thinking for a moment that real snakes have been thrown at him. When they fail to do anything but increase the pain in his chest and lie across his arms like lead, however, he decides to ignore them as best he can and heaves up and over the desk to put something between him and Lurch.

The cowboy leaves the shotgun on the chair at that point, since it's probably not a lot of good against a...an...odd fellows of that size. He draws his knife. His stance is a knife-fighter's, not a swordsman's, as he stands tensed and encircled by serpents, waiting.

((5 with another blue spent, la...knife-drawing is a full action, yes? He can't Intimidate or aught this round?
Init: 6C...again. What're the odds?))

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #249):

((OOC: He can, but it's at a -2 penalty for multiple actions. Since it's not linked to Agility, the Entangle penalty doesn't count. Attackign with the knife this round would be at -2 for the entangle and -2 for the MAP, for a total of -4 (in addition to his wounds and fatigue). You could attempt it, I just don't like your chances.))

[[That's a yes, no, then...he'll not do anything else but stand there this round, then, though Lurch'll have to go around or through the desk to get at him.]]

In reply to Carl Allans (msg #251):

((OOC: Make a Notice check for me, please... }:D))

[[Notice: 9 ...he's probably hyped up on impending doom.]]

Carl notices something scuttling toward him out of the corner of his eye...just before it leaps on him!

It closes around his throat, and Carl realizes that he's being attacked by a severed human hand...

((OOC: 17:25, Today: The Stray rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. it's creepy and it's kooky. Well, that means Carl isn't caught by surprise by it.

Still, the OMGCRAWLINGHUMANHAND! reflex kicks in as Thing makes it's appearance...roll Spirit (-4 for the Fear Level, + Carl's Grit).

17:29, Today: The Stray rolled 8 using 1d10, rerolling max with rolls of 8. Fighting! A hit, but not a Raise.

Damage: 6. That's enough to make Carl Shaken, even without the Fear...))

Carl is highly alarmed by that one.

[[3. Ah, the joys of stacked penalties...]]

OOC: Wheeeee! A failed fear check! Let's see how badly Carl gets screwed...

18:05, Today: The Stray rolled 14 using 1d20. How scared are you?

Minor Phobia: The character gains a Minor Phobia Hindrance somehow associated with the trauma.

So...what flavor of Minor Phobia are you going to get from this? After all, this is an irrational fear...

---

Turn Order:
The Thing: JH
Arthur Whateley: 7H
Carl Allans: 6C
Mr. Lurch: 5H

[[What, aside from trying to fight phantom serpents, a master of the Dark Arts, a seven-foot battle butler and a scary hand thing on his oddy knocky whilst dying of ghost rabies (and possibly real rabies) and carrying wounds from going one-on-one with an undead cougar?

He'll probably be twitching at hands near his face for a few days if he survives all this, but other than that (or increasing his fear of dying inside, and thus going into buildings) I have no idea...]]

As the hand continues to try choking the life out of Carl, Arthur smiles. "I think I shall leave you to the hands of the guardians. They should dispose of you quite neatly."

He straightens his jacket, rubs some blood from his nose, and heads to the door. There's a light as it opens...

"Ah! Hello there! How prompt!" comes a voice from the general direction of the doorway. "I was just about to knock. Have you, perchance, seen Carl Allans about? I was supposed to meet him after he finished an errand."

"Er...no, Marshal. I'm afraid I haven't. Excuse me..."

"Wait just a moment, sir. What's going on in there?"

((OOC: I see it more as the Straw That Broke The Cowboy's Mind...

Anyhoo, Thing attempts to strangle Carl more.

18:42, Today: The Stray rolled 8 using 1d10, rerolling max with rolls of 8. The Hand that strangles the cradle. Hit, no Raise. That is good for Carl.

18:43, Today: The Stray rolled 1 using 1d8, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Damage. This is better for Carl. Things don't get worse.

Arthur attempts to Exit Stage Right...and runs into Evans, searching for Carl. Arthur attempts to bluff (a Smarts trick) but he'll be suffering a -2 MAP for his haste to leave.

18:53, Today: Arthur Whateley rolled 5,-1 using d12-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 7,1. hasty Bluff.

18:54, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 6,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,4. Resisting Trick.

Looks like Carl may have an ally...if he can get Evans' attention.))

---

Carl goes next!

Carl panic-bites at the thing - thing, he doesn't want to process it, thing thingthingthing- wrapped around his throat, though he can't seem to get a good hold on it, annoying it if anything.

[[my lone white to Unshake, and...3 fighting, though I forgot the crazy penalties from the snakes as well, so...less. He was going to Wild Attack that, but it probably cancels out, so...]]

His awareness is dimming - red-rimmed, darkness, mostly pain - but he thinks Whateley's talking to someone. If he could stay alive long enough to draw attention...Carl kicks the chair by the desk over so that it clatters on the tiles and tries to get under the slight protection of the wood, snakes, thing and all - then kicks at the pannelling like, well, someone being strangled, for good measure, dizzily trying to pry the thing off his throat.

[[Ye-es, the mute with his hands tied shall attract attention, verily. This is...sort of like watching Harmonica get eaten by angry muppets...I'm not sure whether it's absoloutely bloody hilarious or nightmare-inducingly horrible...]]

Carl kicks over the chair...which he'd just laid his shotgun against. There's a clatter, followed by an errant {boom!} as one of the barrels discharges. In the past, Carl had often cursed the unreliable gun for jamming at the wrong times...but now the cheap coach gun may have just saved his life.

Evans immediately pulls his gyromounted pistol and fires it three times point-blank into Arthur's kneecaps. The sorcerer howls, more in shock than in pain...most of the bullets only grazed him. But he's in no position to stop Evans as the Marshal barrels into the room.

Mr. Lurch, however, isn't really interested in the new threat. He has one job on his mind, and now that the gun has been fired, his goal is clear. Carl must die now.

To that end, the giant reaches down and heaves, pulling the heavy stone desk up into the air...

((OOC: Evans spends 3 pp for 3 Bolts. Since he doesn't have Quickdraw, he suffers the -2 MAP.

01:47, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled -1,0,6,2 using d6-2,d6-2,d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2,(6+2)8,4. Bolt! No. Not going to keep that 1 there...spending a White Chip to avoid catastrophic gun malfunction.

01:48, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 3,0,0,5 using d6-2,d6-2,d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,2,2,(6+1)7. White Chip. Better. Still only one hit, but no catastrophe.

Damage: 01:50, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 5 using 2d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. Damage. Arthur is Shaken.

Meanwhile, Mr. Lurch decides his normal damage isn't cutting it and decides to use the desk as an Improvised Weapon. He makes a Strength check to pick it up, which consumes his action for the turn.

01:54, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 9,1 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 9,1. Improvised weapon! Easy lifting for Lurch.

If he can hit Carl with it, he'll do Str + d8 damage with the thing.))

---

Turn Order:
Arthur Whateley: AC
The Amazing Evans: JH
The Thing: 10C
Mr. Lurch: 2C
Carl Allens: not drawn yet.

Carl looks up at the desk's movement and the sudden light, bracing against the floor and baring his teeth in defiance.

[[Oops. 6H...oh, hearts this time. Bon sang, am I glad Mr. Lurch never practiced quick-drawing desks in his youth. (if he had one) Hopefully Thing'll get out of the way? How far is it to the nearest light source, and what is it?]]

The wounded sorcerer crawls out the door and down the porch, but he's not going to be running anywhere for a while.

Evans steps in and takes in the scene around him. There isn't much light, save a lamp hanging on the wall next to Carl, but he can clearly see the giant about to crush him. "Drop it!" Evans shouts, and, to punctuate his command, turns his pistol on Mr. Lurch's arms.

Three shots ring out, though only one seems to connect. The giant's arm buckles, but does not give. He doesn't seven seem to have felt the wound.

The scuttling thing around Carl's neck gives one last squeeze before dropping off and skittering back into the darkness.

---

((OOC: Arthur attempts to unshake on his turn. 11:52, Today: Arthur Whateley rolled 1,1 using d8-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2. Roll to unshake. No dice. He can still stagger away a bit, so he limps a few squares.

Evans takes stock of the situation, sees the giant about to squish Carl, and decides to incapacitate as best he can. He aims for Mr Lurch's arms, attempting to disarm him (har, har). He spends 3 more pp on his Bolt.

11:57, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 3,0,2,2 using d6-2,d6-2,d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,2,4,4. Disarm attempt. Ugh. Evans will spend a Red Chip so that he can actually hit. 11:57, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Red Chip.

11:58, Today: The Amazing Evans rolled 6 using 2d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,2. Damage. Not enough to actually hurt Lurch, but enough to make him need to roll Strength to keep his weapon.

11:58, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 19,4 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (10+9)19,4. hold on. Yikes. Look like Lurch is keeping the desk.

The Thing, meanwhile, is going to keep strangling Carl. 12:07, Today: The Stray rolled 3 using 1d10, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Strangle! That's a fail. The Thing will drop off and attempt to scuttle away for now, to avoid being crushed by Lurch. Carl can attempt to attack it, but since it's a small target (-2 to attack), and Carl's already wounded and fatigued, he's not likely to hit.))

---

Carl is up next!

Carl can't help but flinch, wide-eyed, when Evans yells at his assailant to drop the desk. " ! !! " His sore, labouring heart trips over its beat at every shot and the subsequent tremors in the upholding limbs.
"..."
Carl wonders why everyone is trying to kill him today. Shuddering as the thing skitters down him and out of the way, he throws himself against the giant's legs to be harder to hit and with a desperate burst of strength wriggles, twists, and bites his way free of the coiling serpents.


[[EVANS YOU ARE NOT HELPING.
20:19, Today: Carl Allans rolled 10,-3 using d8-4,d6-4, rerolling max with rolls of (8+6)14,1. ...that gets him out of entanglement, yes?
init (if he isn't squished by then): KD
Maybe his new phobia should be a fear of desks...]]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Sun 06 Nov 2011.

Carl wiggles out of the magical serpents, which dissolve as soon as he's free of them. This is good, as Mr. Lurch brings the desk down right at the cowboy's head. Carl is able to dodge out of the way, barely, and the giant lifts the desk for another attempt.

---

((OOC: Hey, he's doing his best! He's trying to be a good cop and not shoot to kill right now...he's not aware of how serious the situation is yet.

That does get him out of the snakes, yes. Just in time to be whacked at by Lurch. Luckily for Carl, Lurch is using an Improvised weapon, so that's a -1 to his attack roll.

13:34, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 5,3 using d8-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 6,4. Fighting! Just barely a miss.))

---

Next Round:
Carl Allans: KD
Mr. Lurch: JC
Arthur Whateley: 7S
The Amazing Evans: 6D

Carl launches himself from where he was lying, half-sliding, half-scrambling under the desk as it reaches knee height again, grabs his gun, realises he's lost his hat - grabs his hat - and is off like a rabbit towards Evans and daylight.


[[If a villain is holding the heroine or sidekick over a long drop, you do not yell "let her/him/it go!"...likewise, if a giant butler is holding half a ton of granite over someone's head you do not say "drop it!" Poor Carl...

Running 3 + Pace 4 -> 7 squares of fleeing. At least he's a moving target now?
init: KS]]

"Diiiiiiiieeeeee." Lurch says as Carl bends down to pick up his hat, and clips the cowboy with the desk, sending him staggering. Carl tries to run for the light, but the whack from the desk has him stumbling. he's not able to reach the light before Arthur stands.

"Lurch! Kill them both!" he shouts, then heaves the door closed. The light fades, leaving Carl and Evans in almost dakrness.

"Bother!" Evans curses, pulling the gyromounted pistol open and reloading as fast as he can.

((OOC: Moving away from a character you are in melee with opens you up to a free attack. This means Lurch gets one attempt to brain you before you get far...

14:05, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 2,6 using d8-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 3,(6+1)7. swing...

14:06, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 2,5 using d10,d8, rerolling max with rolls of 2,5. ...and a hit. 7 damage. That's enough to make Carl Shaken.))

That's bad for Carl, as that halves his Pace, meaning Carl only gets 5 squares after his run. Which means Lurch is able to follow him and swing again.

14:10, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 8,3 using d8-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of (8+1)9,4. swing...

14:10, Today: Mr. Lurch rolled 1,1 using d10,d8, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. Damage. Carl is lucky. That second hit only deals 2 damage.

Arthur spends his action still trying to Unshake. 14:12, Today: Arthur Whateley rolled 7,15 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,(6+6+3)15. Roll to unshake. That gives him an action this turn. he uses it to close the Lodge Door. It'll take an action to open.

Evans needs to reload, so he spends his action doing that.))

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Next Round:
The Amazing Evans: AH
Carl Allens: KS
Arthur Whateley: KC
Mr. Lurch: JH