#$%&ing Dave, spare his sorry hide and this is the thanks I get.  But seriously, do Wildcat and Adrian see two or three dozen rough looking hombres through the win'der?  If so we're going out there fast and Milburn is going to to come with or be left out.

Also, Carl is talking.  That's the sign the end of all things is nigh.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:27, Wed 14 Dec 2011.

All the Dust Adders are staring at the suddenly talkative Carl. Some of them even have their mouths open in shock. Dishonest Abe is even crossing himself.

((OOC: In defense of Dave, well, he hasn't met up with the main body of the DA's yet...Carl sent him off pulling in folk living at the edge of town.

And it's only a dozen out there at present. Still a lot, though, and easily seen from any window.))

"Kaleb Feigenbaum aws my uncle, it says here"
He shows the letter of inheritance
"That he left me something, an old lady down yonder told me that anything he might have left me would be in a box. YOu wouldnt happen to have any idear what box im talkin about would ye?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:53, Wed 14 Dec 2011.

"Mister Milburn, Ah didn't get th' name Wildcat from m'self 'r my ma 'n pa.  Crazy is jus' what ah do som'times.  But we's all gon' be left out if'n we don't get out there, hold our noses 'n make nice.  Reckon ya ought to getalong too Dep'ty."  Wildcat starts heading to the growing congregation of Little Snakes.

In reply to Jake 'Rattler' Cuthings (msg #54):

The marshal is clearly befuddled. "What does your uncle have to do with the price of tea in china? Good god, lad, look around you! I have a room full of injured people from a failed attempt to rally the townsfolk against a marauding band of Comanches about to ride in and slay us all! I was pounded within an inch of my life saving the skin of an ingrate who probably would have liked to have seen the brute finish the job! I have a jail full of criminal assassins and precious few people to guard them because I'm here trying to find out why everything, absolutely everything, I have tried to do for this town has gone to utter shit in the last 72 hours, and now, now, you need me to worry about your uncle as well?"

He sinks to the floor and covers his head in his hands. "I can't...I can't do this any more...I just can't...can't..." He begins to sob.

((OOC: I think you caught the marshal on a bad day...;).))

Jake takes a step forawards
"Whoa now fella, I just got into town, you have my condolances for what happened here, but I had no idear of what in sam-hill had happened here. But this aint no reason to just give up! Your the marshal for Gawds sake, if somebodys gotta look strong its gotta be you! Think of what these people might do if they see you down in the dumps! It just aint good for moral!"
he offers his a hand up
This message was last edited by the player at 16:24, Wed 14 Dec 2011.

In reply to Jake 'Rattler' Cuthings (msg #57):

((OOC: Make a Persuasion roll, please.))

_{11:49, Today: Jake 'Rattler' Cuthings rolled -1 using 1d4-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1.
Next time its intimidation}

((OOC: Remember the Wild Die. It's always added, even if you're defaulting--it just has the same -2 penalty))

_{Forogt about that
11:58, Today: Jake 'Rattler' Cuthings rolled -1 using 1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1.
Oh dear lord he's going to kill me...}

Jake holsters his pistol and walks over to where Evans is dealing with the new comer. He listens to the two talk and shakes his head, Not exactly a charmer is he

"Marshall I've come to report that I'll be leaving the rank of your deputies, I can't in good conscious be a deputy and keep my loyalties to my employer in the aftermath of things here. Consider me a helpful citizen for as long as you have need of me. As it stands this young man is not looking for his uncle as the fellow is dead, but he is looking for something left unto him by his uncle." he looks at Jake_v2 "That bout right fella?" with that confirmed, he continues. "As for the rest of this, no need to get into a fuss Marshall. You've got lots of good folks helping you out, even if the town doesn't realize it needs helping."

"So what can this here helpful citizen help with?"

OOC: Trying to calm him a bit
12:06, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 8,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+2)8,4. Persuasion.

Carl gives a tight twist of a smile to the most shocked parties, aware of the rumours that'd gone round the town when he'd returned from that first clash of smoke and steel, soundless.

Alouette, having found a piece of silver-shot funeral brocade and a can of sardines for Danny, patters up to Evans and starts trying to polish his knees.

Inside City Hall:

"Reckon that's a good idea, crazy lady?" Al mutters, looking out the window into the street. "It's the Dust Adders out there, and from what I understand, they don't like you at all."



"Well, fuck." He mutters and follows, then stops at the door and looks at Adrian. "Well? What you waiting for, Senator Sideburns? Git on goin!"

Outside City Hall:

Once the shock passes, the DA's get planning. Gus looks over the streets on Carl's crude map.

"That's good if they're comin' for town. We ain't sure which way they're goin', though. If your plan works and we can get their horses, fine, but it's nigh on to sunset now...got maybe an hour's light left. That means they're either comin' now, or they're waitin' until dark so they can attack by the light o' the moon. They don't call it a Comanche moon for nothin'."

"If they break south, there's the creek between the Ranch and town. If they cut the bridges, well, we'll have the devil's own time gettin' over the creek to reinforce, seein' how all the rain has the creek ridin' high. And they might come from the North End...too many empty houses to cover there..."

The door of Town Hall opens, and the Ranger steps out. Instantly, a dozen guns clear leather, and the sounds of levers and hammers coking actions sound out.

"Preacher did somethin'," Carl gives in almost-explanation, and demonstrates by the holes in his sleeve the man's damn fine at stitchin', too.

"Gamble." Carl indicates the clouds, then a circling gesture round the map. "..."

He gets up quickly at the Ranger's appearance and puts himself between her and harm, shoving her shotgun away if she's raised it, setting his shoulders back, thinking himself big and making steely eye contact with anyone who has an issue with this. He makes an odd rope-tugging gesture near his neck before flicking his hand to the side. "..."


[[13:08, Today: Carl Allans rolled 13,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (8+5)13,4. *growl*. ]]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:26, Thu 15 Dec 2011.

Wildcat nods to Carl.  Luckily said shotgun is lazily cradled in the crook of her arm from the conversation from before.  The Ranger's packing a fearsome array of weaponry, with a rifle scabbard and a leather thong dangling from behind her, but her poise is like a lounging cougar.  She steps lightly and lazily, not the least bit phased.

"Now now boys, that ain't no way ta treat a lady, much less a mean bitch of'a Rang'r.  Way ah reckon ah see it, that lead's a lot better spent on them Com'nche raiders.  Ya'll see yer man here?  He gets it.  Mister Vega here, he gets it too.

"Make it real simple for all ya'll.  We need ev'ry horse soldier, ev'ry cowboy, bad man, dead man, witch man, preacher man, ferrier, barber, ev'ry Christian, ev'ry heathen, ev'ry sunuvabitch, ev'ry house wife wit' a mean att'tude, ev'ry Snake, ev'ry mangy dog, ennythin' this town's got right the damn hell now because we're all ridin' th' same muck wagon wh'ther any of us like it 'r not.  It ain't th' army any of us want, but it's th' army we done got.

"Now ah ain't seen yer boys here be mean 'n bad 'cept when the odds is... oh, 'bout twelve on one.  But ah will have ta take it on faith ya'll can actually get sideways wit' a band o' screaming Com'nches cuz guess what, ah ain't got a choice.

"Now mister Milburn here is representin' th' mayor.  He thin's ah'm a batshit loco devil-woman wit' lanterns an' cold cream shoved down mah shirt, an' ah think his mayor's a piece of cowardly cow dung who'd rather spend his time tryin' ta tan mah hide than dyin' on th' walls of th' town 'e's s'posed ta run.  So con-grat-u-lashuns Snakes, ah now have a higher 'pinyun of all ya'll than ah do yer sorry ass Mayor.

"But that don't matter right now.  Mister Milburn's got some ideers 'bout them Comanche, ain't exactly what ah was thinkin' but ah like it ennyway cuz at this point enny plan is better'n no plan.

"So here it is Snakes.  Th' best plan we got is that ya'll, me, th' Marshal, Mr. Milburn, every 'un, we's all gonna pinch our snooters, grin 'n bear it, 'n play nice so folks all listen.  Bill McCoy is a good man.  An' ah saw that crazy sunofabitch right thar' crawl inta a damn mess ta save 'im.  As fer me, ah'm right here ain't ah?  Now, ah know three of ya'll got the grit fer an Injun fightin' truce if'n ya want ta reach fer it, but enny o' th' rest of all ya'll got th' stones ta do th' same?"

The marshal glares at Jake, and seems like he's about to retort, when the other Jake comes by and starts speaking his piece.

"I suppose I can't blame you, things being as they are. But I'm grateful for whatever help you can provide. Still, I can't help but feel an awful failure. It has been a grinding few days."

He stands and looks at Cuthings. "Sir, I would like to help you put your uncle's affairs in order, but at this particular moment I am busy with building a defense of this town. There is a band of Comanche Indians nearby that have been riled to the point of hostility. I had originally planned to meet with them in an attempt to parley, but as it is near sunset I fear that opportunity may have been lost. Now I need to work on a defense. Would you be willing to help aid us in our struggle? Once the town is secure and the hostilities are deceased, I'm sure I can help you with your affairs."

And then the clank moves into view and starts rubbing the Marshal's knees. "Er...ow...ow! Stop that, please! Alouette, what in the world are you doing?"

"No worries Marshal Evans I know exactly what ya mean." He listens to Evans talk about what's happening and interjects "What are the Comanche here for exactly?"

Jake^v1 puts his hand gently on Alouette's shoulder, "That's not acceptable clank."

The big, ruddy roughneck that seems to be in charge looks at Carl, looks at Wildcat, then nods and starts holstering his gun. The others follow his lead.

He steps forward. "I don't give a good goddamn what the fuck Al here 'represents," nor what his fuckin' ideas are. I don't like you. Jesse was my friend. So were Charlie and Luke. I'm glad to hear you pinned a star on Bill instead of shootin' him, but that don't make us friends. You fuck with us, I'll just add your pretty blonde hair to my collection."

He pats his belt, on which half a dozen scalps hang.

"But Carl's got first crack at you. And you're right, we need every sonovabitch who can hold an iron in on this thing. But let's get one thing straight. The Dust Adders are in charge of this show. You wanna input some ideas, we can listen, but the final decision ain't with Al, or you, or the fuckin' Yankee. It's with Carl, and it's with me. You got a problem with that, we can hogtie you and shove you out o' the way while we save our town."

He steps in close, and looks the Ranger right in the eye. There's something strange about his eyes...something about the pupil, which seems elongated. Almost a slit.

But he holds out his hand.

Inside, Wildcat is wincing in anticipation.  Wildcat had taken to wearing gloves to do even fine tasks some years ago.

Her first ruse to pass as a Deputy had nearly failed as a result of not wearing gloves constantly.  It hid the fact her fingers were small and slender and so stereotypically feminine.  Some men did have hands the size of hers, but even an Eastern dandy like Evans had a boyhood, and his hands showed it.

Oh she had callused fingers all right.  But they were the calluses of someone used to needle and thread or various kitchen tools.  She was just now getting one from repeated pistol firings.  The miracle of gloves hid all these things however.  And they had another benefit besides.  The gloves kept her hands from getting chewed up and kept her nails from breaking.

For all her bravado, Katrina was a little fussy (the myriad of hair pins so carefully tucked away were a testament to that) and maybe just a little vain.   Of course some cuts and bruises had set in by now, weathering her hands some more, but when no one was around to look, she fretted over each one, fearing it would leave a blemish.  Normally something like that burn on her arm would lead to a crying fit, but she hadn't had time or privacy.

But no one here will ever know that.  Outside, she's a stoic rock.

Her gloved hand slides into his grasp, and in a rare moment she wishes she were a man.  It's just not as strong as his, she can't do anything about that.

"Cain't ask fer anythin' more Snake.  You's damn right, there's more.  But it's fer anoth'r day."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:01, Thu 15 Dec 2011.

In reply to Jake Lawrence (msg #69):

"I surely don't know." Evans sighs. "They arrived a month ago and were relatively quiet. There was some tension with Dr. Ward not appreciating them camping out on the edge of his land, but my jurisdiction doesn't extend that far. Then I hear that they've started attacking travelers, and Deputy Colby went missing while following a lead. Now they're attacking the Ranch, and gearing up for a full-on attack of the town. At least, that's what the Dust Adders have said, though how trustworthy that is I can't say. I just don't know what they're after, or if they were attacked and are out for revenge, or if they need supplies and aren't willing to barter for them. I just don't know."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #71):

He shakes her hand. It's firm, but he has the good grace not to squeeze. "Right. Come on over then, and speak your piece."

He leads her over to Carl's makeshift dust scratchings map. "Carl, this is your show. Let's get her up to speed."

In reply to The Amazing Evans (msg #72):

Jake nods, "I'll see if I can come up with something on the restless natives." Without another word he moves away from masses of people, particularly Alouette, he tries to find a side room if possible.

Once alone he takes out a old deck of playing cards, "Alright lets see what you have to say."

OOC: Hunch time! Let's start with Deputy Colby and the native uprest.
13:14, Today: Jake Lawrence rolled 12,7 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (8+4)12,(6+1)7. SpellCasting (Hunch).

In reply to Jake Lawrence (msg #74):

((OOC: All the information you could want is on the "Dr. Franklin in Comanche Country" and the "Adventures of August Colby in Comanche Country" threads, which you have permission to read. And if you have any further questions, play the Revelation card and you'll get more.))

"Polishing you...otherwise you might have to have a bath," Alouette explains, then looks from where Jake went to the Marshal. "Are leg joints inappropriate touching?"