Some Mood Music

Late Afternoon, April 11th, 1879. On The Road to Blackthorn, Texas. Good Friday.

It's been a long and dusty trail from Victoria. The wind whips dark clouds over the sky, and it has started to rain. It's not bad yet, but the pair of riders on the trail shiver at the cold nonetheless.



One of the riders wears fancy duds, the sort of ostentatious wear that speaks of much money but little taste. He has a wide-brimmed hat, a fringed black leather jacket festooned with spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts, and more of the same on his shiny black leather pants. A shiny silver Peacemaker rests in a tooled leather holster at his side, and on his weathered face is a pretentious monocle.

The other rider's clothes are well-worn and too warm for the climate around here - denoting him as foreign in these parts (though he's glad to have them in this ugly rain). He's heeled, the holster and gun in much better condition than his coat. He has a haunted, tired look about him, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings and he rarely seems relaxed.



The monocled rider reigns in his horse. "Whoa, there." He says, then points to the horizon. "Look over there. You can see the buildings from here. Ain't it just the saddest little piece of shit in this whole wide world?" He grins.



Thunder rumbles across the plains as the pair stare down at the collection of ramshackle hovels on the horizon.



And here they were, at the ass end of nowhere, right next to a dead tree.

"I'm going to visit a friend of mine, pay my respects." The monocled man says to William, dropping off his horse. "You wait right here for a spell. Don't go ridin' off...I'd hate having to track you down."

OOC: Forgot to discard one of my chips, which I just did.

Pierce lowers his head, water cascading off the brim of his hat. He spits, then raises his eyes again.

"You want me to wait here, in the rain? I'd rather wait somewhere dry and warm. This place, Blackthorn, sure has a saloon or something, right? You'll find me there."

He looks at the tree next to them, shaking his head. That thing didn't offer no shelter when it was alive, let alone now.

"If you don't want people to see us together, I'll give you a few minutes head start. Good enough for ya?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:36, Thu 17 Nov 2011.

"Now, what did I just say? I have no interest in tracking you down." the gunslinger says. "Besides, there's two saloons in town...lots of folk there try to drink their depression away." He walks over to the tree. "I won't be more than a few...what the fuck!?"

At this outburst a pair of crows burst into the air. It's not hard to see why. The hollow around the tree had been used as a campsite, and something had attacked it. A cold fire pit sat next to the body of a horse. Crows tore at the rotting flesh of the beast. Scraps of paper fluttered about the camp, and around one side was a torn and bloodstained mochila bearing the words "Pony Express."

Most disturbingly, the earth next to the tree had been disturbed, as if something human-sized had dug it's way up from beneath the ground.

"What the hell happened here?" the monocled gunslinger mutters, looking around the campsite in bewilderment.

Pierce's eyes narrow, he looks up again, slowly turning his horse around to get a good view of the whole area, then dismounts, walking closer to the campsite.

"Nothing good happened here... adding one more reason why I'd rather wait somewhere else. Tell me a place you want to meet up."

He hunkers down, grabs the bag and a few of the nearest papers, then rifles through the contents.

OOC: 19:15, Today: William Pierce rolled 7,19 using d6+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 5,(6+6+5)17. Notice.

Pierce looks up to meet the stranger's gaze.

"And if that doesn't sound good to you, then we don't need to meet up at all. You helped me find the place. Obliged. But it's not like we got married or something. I'll find my way around this little town and no hard feelings."

The gunslinger doesn't respond to William at first. he's too busy just staring at the disturbed ground.

"no...oh shit, no..." he mutters, then turns to William. "Hmph. Yeah. You're right about that...very bad things happened here. Look, we'll meet up at the Grand Bull Saloon. There's likely to be some very lucrative work for you very soon...very soon. If you've got the grit for it. But...damn, this is bad."

The papers seem to be a collection of letters, envelopes, and documents. most have burn marks, and there's a lot of paper ash in the firepit. The horse was killed by a half-dozen handgun rounds from a fairly large pistol.

This looks like the remains of a mail robbery. But where is the body of the rider?

Then, out of the corner of his eye, William spots a figure standing at the creekside, watching the pair of them forlornly.

The gunman turns, standing up and dropping the bag in the process, his right hand resting on the handle of his gun.
He looks at the newcomer - could it be the pony express rider?

OOC: How much would you say I know about the Reckoning and the whole stuff? I didn't put anything in particular into my skills or background, but I'd guess that dead climbing out of their graves and gamblers shooting bolts of lightnings from their fingertips are at least stories I've heard over campfires, even if not experiencing them myself.

The figure by the creek just stands there, watching. He's a slender young black man with curly hair and staring, oddly glassy eyes. He looks dazed, a little lost. The front of his shirt is soaked in blood. Several holes have been burned through it. His leather chaps are also stained, the right leg more than the left. This would be consistent with the bullet holes in the horse slumped over at the edge of the camp.

((OOC: Campfire stories, yes, but nothing substantiated. Most people don't believe in that kind of thing...but then, in the back of their minds, they might wonder.))
This message was last updated by the player at 08:35, Fri 18 Nov 2011.

(OOC: How far is he away?)

Pierce throws a quick glance at Spades.

"Are... are you hurt? Who attacked you?"
Pierce licks his lips.

Something's not right... His instincts tell him to draw and put the obviously wounded man out of his misery. But too much has happened in the last year and he feels reluctant to act on it.

"Easy now. We can take you to a doctor."

The gunslinger catches the glance and turns. "Holy Jesus, son. What happened to you?" he says. "You didn't happen to see...well, anythin' strange here, now, did you?"

The man doesn't reply to either of them. He shuffles forward in a slow, stumbling gait that reminds William of veterans he'd seen of the War. His eyes stare past the two of them, the thousand-yard stare of someone suffering from "the soldier's heart".

((OOC: he started 12 yards away and has moved 8, leaving him 4 yards (2 squares of movement) from William. Easily within a turn's move.))

William moves back a step or two, then slowly gives wayto his left, his eyes never leaving the mute rider.

"Easy now, easy... your horse didn't make it. Just sit down."
To Spades: "You got a hatchet? W might be able to hack the tree into a stretcher."

The silent figure moves with William, keeping pace with him as he moves back. He raises one hand and points at the collection of scraps William had amassed.

"Got a knife." The gunslinger grunts. "I'm not planning to dull it for his sake, though. I'm of the opinion we should just take our leave now...I'm done paying respects. In pace requiescat, and all that." his hand slowly lowers toward his own gun handle. "All in all, I'd like to leave this eerie scene and get on with my increasingly eerie day. Preferably with no witnesses."

"You want those?" Pierce asks the rider. "You can have them, no problem."
He slowly puts the bag down in front of him, then keeps moving to the side.

To Spades, he adds: "Witness to what, hmm?"

"Did I say witnesses?" the gunslinger grunts. "I meant complications. Like, say, dragging a bloody negro full of bullet holes into town and then having to explain to the Yankee marshal how you came across him when your face is plastered all over posters from Deadwood to Abilene. That strikes me as just about the opposite of laying low."

As the man talks, the rider moves over to the bag, kneels, and starts picking through the scraps.

"Look at him." Seven spits. "He ain't long for the world anyhow, even if you somehow get him to a doctor. He's done for. Hell, it might just be a kindness if you just finished him off...he's so full of holes they won't notice one mo-"

Which is just about the time the bloody rider leaps at the gunslinger, clearing the distance between them in shockingly quickly. He opens his mouth wide and bites down hard on the gunslinger's arm, eliciting a cry of shock from Seven.

((OOC: Draw cards for initiative! Welcome to the tradional Sixguns & Spellslingers Jumping In!))

---

Turn Order:
The Seven of Spades: AS
Pony Express Rider: QD
William Pierce: Not Drawn yet

OOC:19:40, Today: William Pierce drew the single card: BJ! using the Deadlands system.
Does that mean I interrupt him?
If you consider a headshot at this point to be player knowledge, feel free to ignore the called shot.


Pierce's hand had been on his pistol this whole time - now, he draws it, faster than the eye can follow, cocking the hammer before the barrel has cleared leather.
A single shot rings out - and at this distance, it's almost impossible to miss.

OOC:19:46, Today: William Pierce rolled 7,1 using d10-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 9,3. Quick Draw, Shooting, headshot, Joker.
19:48, Today: William Pierce rolled 10 using 2d6+7, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2. peacemaker damage, joker, headshot. I'd be willing to No Mercy that, if necessary.

"Deadwood and Abilene are a long way from here." he adds into the silence after his shot's noise has faded.

The side of the rider's head explodes, showering Seven with blood and bits of brain.

There's a silence in the hollow as Seven collects himself. He seems a bit rattled by the whole thing.

"Well." He says after a few moments. "Well. I thank you kindly. Didn't want no negro rabies anyhow." He looks over the body. "That was a damn fine shot. I can see your reputation wasn't exaggerated. That's good. My boss will certainly want to meet you. That's a fine talent there, a fine one."

Then he begins heading back to his horse, leaving the dead man on the ground. He pulls a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face. "Probably time to get going." He says.

((OOC: Yup, that interrupts him. Also, I have no problems with the headshot. Since he is, in fact, a Walkin' Dead, the headshot deals an additional 2 damage, which bumps you to 12. That's enough to put it down. This fight is over before it began.))