Near Sundown, April 11th, 1879. The outskirts of Blackthorn. Good Friday.

Some Mood Music

The ground rumbles as the riders thunder into town on the wings of the storm. They head straight for the church.

---

Jake Cuthings

The trip to the church is short and uneventful, but eerie. There's something foul in the air that Jake can't quite trace. Could be the fact that the town feels too empty. There aren't any lights on in the houses he passes. There isn't any music from the saloon. This place feels like a Ghost Town.

The feeling of unease doesn't leave as he comes within sight of the church. The crossroads around the place shows signs of a violent struggle. There's blood in the streets.

And, just to make things worse, a dozen riders are making their way toward him...

---

Jake Lawrence, Alouette, John Smith, Carl Allans

Once all the people injured in the riot are in the church, Alouette and jake continue bantering on about repentance while John helps Evans tend the wounded. The Priest also tends to the wounded, though he spends a lot of time with Carl the Dust Adder. Evans mixes up some sort of strange, noxious brew using holy water, communion wine, sawdust, and some of that fresh-baked pie Alouette fetched earlier that seems to actually work at making people feel better (the first person he tests it on is himself).

As people in the church discuss events, the sound of riders on horseback can be heard outside...

---

Wildcat Hawkins, Adrian Vega

Wildcat and Adrian are discussing plans with Al Milburn, who has some very vocal things to say about Wildcat's so-called "plans," most of them negative...

((OOC: And we're off!))
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:21, Mon 12 Dec 2011.

Carl looks up from where he's been outlining hasty battle plans and indicating the importance of destroying the heads of corpses. He whistles sharply to catch attention and halt any panic before it starts, touching his ear to indicate folk should listen. No war whoops.

He still motions those with weaponry to grab some as he moves towards the door however.

Wildcat stares down Milburn.

"Well feller if'n ya'll got a better ideer let's hear th' ideer wit'out the att'tude, 'cuz bein' ornery wit' me, that there's a contest ya'll will lose."

"Alrighty." Arthur says, and pulls out a map of town and some of the surrounding area. "Now, I take it you ain't real familiar with fightin' injuns. I've done my share workin' for the railroads, so I got some advice for ya."

"The thing is, you seem to be under the impression them injuns are out to kill folk first and foremost. That ain't it. Sure, they'll kill folk what get in their way, but what they really want is spoils. Comanche are horse thieves o' the highest order, and looters to boot. They ain't after the townsfolk so much as they're after food, firewater, guns, and horses."

"That means their first priority will be the Circle W Ranch. It's got almost everything they could want. And if they destroy the Ranch, well, that leaves the town wide open for a follow-up raid. They won't be goin' after the church. They could give a shit about Jesus. They're more like to target the saloons, the livery, and the general store."

"That don't sound like much, but without the Circle W the town is sunk. Defending that has got to be the first priority."

Jake is going to have the good sense (I hope) to move into the church, not the kind of street he wants to be caught out on

The band of riders halt and look around at the scene of devastation. Their leader, a stocky, well-armed roughneck in a black stetson, looks about.

"What the hell happened here?" he mutters, then looks over at Jake. "Hey!" he shouts. "You there!"

By this time, Jake has made it to the church door and opens it...and finds himself staring straight into a band of armed and frightened townsfolk...

((OOC: that's your cue, Carl.))

Carl looks bemused at some very tall random standing in his way and shoulders past Jake without a second glance, walking out into the street to meet the riders. He fishes in his duster and throws the big redhead something.

"..." he indicates what overhangs are available to stash horses under and jerks his head at the church.

[[go in, JakeII...]]

Jake will waste no time in entering the church and shutting the door behind him
"Any idear who them folks are?

In reply to Jake 'Rattler' Cuthings (msg #8):

Jake's question isn't answered immediately. The church has been turned into a makeshift hospital, with wounded people draped over the pews. There's a lot of random clutter all over, making it hard to find space. The priest is moving among the injured with a bowl of water and a damp cloth, while a dapper gentleman in a torn and bloody suit is administering some sort of elixir to the wounded people on the pews.

A young man shivers in the corner. When the townsfolk who are up and about give him any attention at all, it's hard glares. One person even spits on him. A chicken, of all things, wanders along pecking at the floorboards.

Strangest of all, however, is the brass automaton wandering about...

((OOC: Alouette, that's your cue! Give Jake a better description of the marvelous machine...))

"Which folks, Very Tall Man?" asks a...weird metal thing, the like of which Cuthings has never seen before. It appears to be an object, not armour, but it's certainly talking to him.


[[see profile for a rough of what the clank looks like...it tends to scare the bejeezus out of folk not used to automata, hence the -3 charisma...welcome to Blackthorn! We'll arrange your traditional undead ambush presently...
@Stray - I am going sleeps, it is silly in the morning. description will happen! Later.]]
This message was last edited by the player at 01:31, Tue 13 Dec 2011.

Jake jumps upon the metal...Thing speaking
"Uhh, the riders...outside..."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 01:33, Tue 13 Dec 2011.

In reply to Alistair Milburn (msg #4):

Wildcat just smirks like Milburn is a 10 year old bragging about defeating a snake.

"Feller ya'll wouldn't believe half th' things I fought... but that don't matter right now.  Ah like th' way ya think, but ah don't think ya prop'rly understand how things are here.  Ain't normal.  Everything that happens ta this town is under th' control of th' same evil, th' Big Snake.  Even ya'll.

"Their true 'jective, ah don't reckon ah rightly know what it is, only thin' the Snake has made clear is he wants me dead.  But that cain't be all.  This here's a distraction from whatever he's really up to.  All that's happenin' right here is he's playing his pieces 'gainst each other to hide what he really up to.

"But ya may be right fer a diff'rent reason... looks like they'd have to cross thataway.  That ranch's awful 'mportant to them folks as you say it is, they will hit it and hard, th' Snake will see as much misery done as he can, but that ain't gonna be only thin' they hit.

"We still gon do th' same thin'.  Gonna have a ruse, ah don't trust their better nature ta loot and run like ya'll.  Gonna set men up on the rooftops, rig te streets up ta blow, if'n they's coming after the stores, let's not make it easy for 'em.  But we'll do it with as few as poss'ble.

"Set up what forces we need to at th' ranch though ah reckon.  If'n we got more than four fightin', we need a smaller secondary force or we's never gonna route 'em... is there a natural bottleneck anywhere in their path?"

"To identify folks outside, you must first open the door," the automaton advises cheerfully.

Gus motions for the other riders to hitch their horses up, and looks at the cougar tooth. "Well I'll be damned. At least Mike won't have to worry no more..." he mutters, putting the tooth in his shirt pocket. "But just what the Hell is goin' on here, Carl? This place looks like a goddamned warzone!"

In reply to Alouette (msg #13):

"Well now, the problem I ahve with that is that them outside might start shootin Inseide

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #12):

"Wait, wait, wait." Alistair say. "Ya think the Devil is whippin' up the Comanches to come and kill you?"

He stares at her.

"My god. Glenn was right. You're a crazy person."

"Not th' Devil, are you loco?  Don't ya'll listen ta me, I done said it's more than wantin' to just kill me, although I'm sure they'll try to do that too."

Wildcat stretches for patience.  She's been so inundated now she thinks it's weird when people don't take this stuff at face value.

"Why do folks wish to shoot you, Very Tall Man?" It's learnt to recognise the grey jackets sported by several veterans about the place now. "Are you having a war?"

"Listen little...burd..clock thing, I just wandered in here to get something left to me by my uncle. I dont have any sorta clue what in hell ghas been goin on round these parts.

Jake (the original) sits quietly away from everyone else, he's taking the time to clean his pistol and make sure it is in working order. Water after all can do bad things to a side arm.

Jake will walk away from the bird...clock, and ask people questions around the lines of
"Did you know Kaleb Feigenbaum?

If Adrian had anything in common with the mustache man, it was that he too had no idea what Wildcat was talking about. He had a hard enough time understanding the woman to begin with, and all her talk about snakes didn't make it any easier. Not for the first time since meeting the Ranger, he began to suspect that she might be of questionable sanity.

"I don't know 'bout snakes or none o' that, but I guess it is important to make sure them Comanches don't take no horses if'n that ranch is the life blood o' the town. Don't them Injuns take women too sometimes? Not sayin' all of 'em do, but I heard stories 'bout it happenin sometimes." He hadn't really had too many dealings with the Comanches in his time, but stories had a tendency to run wild. He didn't believe half of what he heard, but he did believe the other half.

A little old lady answers Jake's question. "Fiegenbaum? You mean the Jew?" She nods. "Yes, I remember him. One of the Wendell people. Wasn't very social. Didn't come to church much, poor man, but well, you kinda expect that from a Jew. Died in the cave-in in '74 without letting Christ into his life. Poor man's probably burning Hell right now. Such a shame, too, because other than being a Jew he seemed like a decent fellow."

((OOC: I apologize to any members of the Jewish faith for any offense I may have caused with this...))
This message was last edited by the player at 16:48, Tue 13 Dec 2011.

"Well damn, syas here in this letter he left me something
He shows the note from the will