OOC:
Updated previous post with one more doozy of a bolt!

The gyromounts on Evan's pistol swing in time to the recoil of the shots, canceling the motion out and allowing Adrian's hits to stay mostly on target. Not that it seems to matter much. The Harbinger flinches a little, but the shots don't seem to stop it in any appreciable way.

((OOC: The Harbinger is less than impressed with the tickling. In the future you might consider doing 3d6 damage bolts rather than multiple bolts, thanks to this monster's high Toughness.))

---

Up Next: Gus Shaw, then Dust Adders (Vega)

Gus takes a moment to wipe the blood from his head and smirks at the harbinger. "Just a scratch." He mutters to himself. Upon seeing Adrian firing Evan's gun his eyes widen. There was something he could use against Harbinger, there was something that could kill the unkillable! He moved towards Adrian, intent on taking the gun, then he noticed something and went for Evans flamethrower instead.

OOC: Gus Shaw drew the single card: 10C using the Deadlands system.
 Gus Shaw rolled 13,7 using d8+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of (8+3)11,5. Soak.

Evans groans as Gus reaches for his strange pack-like contraption, but he sees what Gus is trying to do and fumbles with the straps holding the tank to his back. "Here...be careful with this." He whispers, grimacing in pain. "Don't want to...burn the whole town down, do you?" He starts giving Gus a quick instruction in how the thing works.

---

Meanwhile

Itza-chu, abandoning stealth and unaware of his pursuers, dashes across the road and kicks in the door to the church.

The preacher looks up his bible, startled, at the half-naked, tattooed and scarred Indian in the doorway. Itza-chu raises his spear and give the preacherman a wicked grin.

"Heya heya heya, Padre. Wanna know how Jesus felt, a-hangin' from the cross?"

Then he leaped at the man. The long tip of his spear slashed the Father's arms, sending him sprawling with a cry of pain.

((OOC: Itza-Chu attacks Father o'Rourke with Frenzy.

Itza-Chu rolled 2,3,7 using d10,d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,3,(6+1)7. Frenzy, Wild Attack. Hit, no Raise.

Itza-Chu rolled 6,1 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,1. Damage. 7 Damage total, which makes Father O'Rourke Shaken.

I'm going to deal Father O'Rourke in now, since he's now a part of this bit Struggle.

Itza-Chu: 8S
Father O'Rourke: 7H))

---

up next: Dust Adders (Vega). Also, Vampire Girls, please post your actions!

The vampires stand about and pout.

"Why'd he go in there?"
"It hurts..."

"Come on," Darla says, handing Carmilla the cleaver, "It sounds like he's killin' the plumb-righteous...I'll go distract him, you be sweethearts and jump on him when he comes out."

Carmilla nods seriously. Bella's still a bit off from the torture, her concentration shot. "Oo, a red beef sandwitch!"
Darla shakes her head and lopes into a hustle, the other two spreading out so as not to be seen from the doorway.

[[08:19, Today: Vampire Dance Hall Girl rolled 3 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3. *dope* run Darla, run! Her current pace is 5, so 8

The other two start sneaking, with rolls of 5 apiece]]

The savage and the priest will see a distressed and bloodied woman run up and lean in the doorway, holding a hand to the breast bared by her ripped clothing. "Sanctuary! Oh, father, the Indians..." she looks up and gives a slightly too theatrical shriek at seeing Itza-Chu. "EeeeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeee!!! Oh, no! No, no, not here!" Darla buckles like a wounded fawn, grabbing the doorway for support.



[[07:48, Today: Vampire Dance Hall Girl rolled 10 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+4)10. eek! a savage! -2 MAP, -1 unfed -> 7 Smarts Trick
init. 3H]]

The crazed Apache takes his eyes off the preacher and on to the screaming, swooning vampire. "So. Little mosquito girl get'em free, huh? Looks like'm you need a better swattin', Darlin'."

((OOC: Does he fall for it? Itza-Chu rolled 4,4 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,4. Smarts trick? Looks like he does. unfortunately, the Parry penalty only lasts until his next action, so Father O'Rourke can't benefit from it, but it does draw attention.))

((OOC: I'm going to be splitting this thread into two, since these fights take place in separate locations. I'm still waiting on Adrian's batch of Dust Adders, but I'll consider them On Hold for now. John, go ahead and take your action.))

Of the locally infamous Dust Adders, three of them had been over in this pocket and now one was down for the count, though that still left some bullets in the offing. That meant in this case two more bullets from two more Peacemakers, two more triggers pulled and hopefully two more dead Injuns. It was too bad only one of those guns actually fired.

---

OOC:
Two of my Dust Adders are still in the game, one down. Two shots with their Winchesters, one malfunction, and hopefully one hit. Here are my rolls for resolution. Ignore the Winchester references - I went back and saw that these two only had Peacemakers, adding yet another shootin' iron to the pile of malfunctioning weapons.

11:03, Today: Dust Adders rolled 7 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,4.
10:55, Today: Dust Adders rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Dust Adder 2 Winchester.
10:55, Today: Dust Adders rolled 4 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4. Dust Adder 1 Winchester. offering.

Frank's shot rings true. He hits the Comanche square in the chest...but the bullet actually bounces away!

"Aim for the head, or the legs!" Gus shouts as he hefts Evans' flamethrower. "They ain't as armored there! better chance o' stunnin' the bastards!"

((OOC: The shot hits, but because unaimed shots are assumed to be aimed for center of mass (the torso), that shot will hit the Ghost Dance shirt, which is specifically armor vs. bullets. That means the 7 isn't enough to hurt them.

The Dust Adders should have Winchesters and shotguns on them, so the one that broke his peacemaker is going to need to draw it. I had no idea those guns would break so fast...))

---

John Smith is up!

((OOC: Still waiting for John Smith to post...If he doesn't post by tomorrow I'll put him on hold and continue on.

Oh, and Alouette, could you draw your initiative card for the next round?))

[[init. QC]]

some mood music

As John writhes in pain, the Comanche move against the defenders.

On the rooftop where Dishonest Abe fell, one of the indians slings his rifle into play and takes a potshot at Devil's Island Eddie, though he winds up firing from the hip and blowing the shot completely. Meanwhile, two of the raiders scramble up the sides of the Livery and the Jenson house. Neither is able to get a foothold, which leaves the snipers on those positions safe for now.

The same cannot be said for the defenders at the barricades.

Three screaming warriors charge the barricade, leaping atop it and swinging down on the shootists collected there. Felix is able to avoid the blow meant for his head, but Frank is not so lucky...the tomahawk digs deep into the cowhand's neck.

Adrian finds himself the victim of a face full of whooping Comanche brave...then sees the Indian's axe flash and feels a dull pain in his shoulder as it bites deep. He's lucky. His dead flesh absorbs most of the impact. But that leaves him with the problem that his position is now being overrun...

((OOC: I'm putting John on hold. After this round, I'm just going to have the Comanche go in one group to save space. I can't even tell which group is which.

First, I'll deal with the Shaken Comanche. One has 2 Fatigue, the other was just Shaken by a gunshot.

Comanche Raiders rolled 0,2 using d8-2,d8, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2. Unshake, unshake. Fail for both.

The unshaken Comanche on the rooftop where poor Dishonest Abe met his end will Go Prone and take a potshot at another one of Adrian's Dust Adders. He has to draw his rifle to do this, so he's got an MAP.

Comanche Raiders rolled -1 using 1d6-4, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Shooting! Miss.

Two of the Comanche are going to try and climb the buildings where the Dust Adders are. I will count this as a Group check. One heads to the Livery, the other the house near the barricades.

Comanche Raiders rolled 1,1 using d4-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 3,3. Neither is going to get any purchase on the buildings.

Three of the Comanche charge the barricade. They all have weapons drawn. Each is going to make an attack against the nearest defenders.

One attack is going after one of Adrian's Dust Adders, one is going against Adrian himself, and one is going against one of Spotswood's Dust Adders. All three are Wild Attacking.

Comanche Raiders rolled 27,5,4 using d8+2,d8+2,d8+2, rerolling max with rolls of (8+8+8+1)25,3,2. Wild Attack! One hit With Raise on a Dust Adder, one Hit on Adrian, one Miss against Spotswood's Dust Adder.

Damage Against Adrian's Dust Adder: Comanche Raiders rolled 10,10 using d8,2d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of (8+2)10,3,5. 20 Damage Total . The Dust Adder is Shaken with 3 Wounds, and needs to soak them all or be incapacitated.

Damage against Adrian: Comanche Raiders rolled 1,5 using d8,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,3. 6 Damage Total. Adrian barely even feels it.

These three Comanche are at Parry 5 until their next action.

Card for next round: JH))

---

Turn Order:
The Harbinger: AC
Vega's Dust Adders: KS
Alouette: QC
Comanche Raiders: JH
Adrian Vega: JC
Gus Shaw: 10H
Spotswood's Dust Adders: 6C
John Smith: On hold
This message was last edited by the player at 17:36, Thu 20 Sept 2012.

John grunted and cried out in pain as the bullet ripped through him, or so he thought, he had spun around attempting to position himself to kick one of his opponents managing to turn an otherwise deadly wound into an incredibly painful graze. He tried to play it up some before lashing out with his boot at the Comanche remaining near him and slamming into it's chest before he staggered off to the side and out of the Harbingers line of sight.

John used his last Adventure Card AC - Lucky Break “Thank God I had that silver flask in my shirt pocket!”
Play this card to completely negate the damage from one attack. The Marshal gets to draw 2 random chips from the fate pot.
Saving his ass from that last wound and giving our illustrious GM a couple of fate chips.
John Smith rolled 8,5 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 8,5. Boot to the head hitting with an 8.
John Smith rolled 6,1,3 using d10,d6,d4, rerolling max with rolls of 6,1,3. 10 Damage total.
John then uses his movement to move south towards the warehouse trying to get out of Harbinger's line of sight.
John Smith drew the single card: 9S using the Deadlands system.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:09, Thu 20 Sept 2012.

The Comanche devil lets out an ungainly grunt as John's boot finds his solar plexus, and he goes flying to land in the dirt of the road some 15 feet away.

((OOC: that's enough to make the warrior Shaken, and since he's already Shaken that lands the incapacitating blow. Please draw your card for next round))

---

Up Next: Adrian still needs to resolve Damage against his Dust Adders and draw for his group's next turn. unless he beats an Ace, the Harbinger is up next.

OOC:
10:02, Today: Dust Adders rolled 8 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+2)8. Vigor for Soak.

10:10, Today: Dust Adders drew the single card: KS using the Deadlands system. Initiative.
10:03, Today: Adrian Vega drew the single card: JC using the Deadlands system. Initiative.

In a freak stroke of luck, Frank is able to catch the tomahawk headed for his face with his broken gun, throwing the blade off and sending the useless and now destroyed weapon spinning away into the night.

The Harbinger looks at the group of warriors crashing the barricades, and then begins to sink slowly into the ground. Soon, a cloud of mist is all that remains of where he once stood...

((OOC: The Harbinger uses his Etheralness to sink into the ground and move where the PCs can't see him...he has plans, oh yes he does! He isn't out of this fight, so I draw initiative for him. If you want to try and figure out where he's gone, make a Notice roll (-4 for the darkness and general confusion)

Card for next round: QS, 6S, 3H))

---

Up next: Adrian's Dust Adders!

Goddammit, he thought. Two of his buddies down, and now he was all that was left. He fired at the nearest Comanche with his Peacemaker. At least his gun hadn't broken down like the other two. He fired it off, and it looked like he missed.

OOC:
So two of my Dust Adders down for the count, one to go.

12:48, Today: Dust Adders rolled 2 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2. Dice Roller.

Shoot and miss. How did these guys take over the town again? They couldn't hit a barn door with a gatling pistol at point blank range! :)

Notice...

12:53, Today: Adrian Vega rolled 1,4 using d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. Notice.
12:53, Today: Dust Adders rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Notice.

This message was last edited by the player at 17:54, Thu 20 Sept 2012.

((OOC: And it was such a nice soak, too.

Mostly it's the fact that they ARE the town...the Dust Adders are a militant worker's union made up of all the people who were once miners and then became cattle ranchers banding together to keep Ward's new ranch from exploiting them like the Wendell Mining Company did. A lot of them served in the town's militia, and until they faced the threat of immortal Comanches they did pretty well for themselves.

With the -4 penalty from the general confusion and mayhem, that's a Fail for Adrian.))

---

Alouette is up next!
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:05, Thu 20 Sept 2012.

[[what's the weather doing?]]

In reply to Alouette (msg # 78):

((OOC: It's cloudy, but only partly. The moon can be seen through gaps in the cloud cover. ))

[[just checking. You don't want this to happen on a very wet street, for instance, even if I would giggle for days at wiping out the entire present cast like a football team struck by lightning. Also affects what special effects I get to play with...]]

The restless clouds and wind-swung lanterns on the roof cause the being stalking down the main street to flicker between flame-brightness and skeletal shadow, inhuman, predatory. It approaches the barricades with the unhindered, menacing grace of a hawk gliding to roost or a woman undaunted by her own nudity. Static roars.

(the chicken held in one brass arm doesn't wake, though: it's been a long day)

"Comanches - petticoat warriors! Fearful ever-fighters, has your...water run the colour from you?" the angel calls, the voice from the static harsh and mocking. It repeats something similar in Cherokee, the scorn blistering.

<<You have not even properly become white men, rifle-clutchers! See them risk all whilst you leave your souls in mother's grass-basket - it would have more honour to hide with them there than insult...your ancestors, who fought and conquered - south unceasing, a swing of stone and muscle! ...are you so much less, that you need to grovel to the slavers' ground-crawler...beg boons of a belly-writher?>> the bright lenses glare out at the Comanche over the barriers. <<This for the carrion-birds to fling corpses' teeth upon your mothers, on your elders and your children in the black-beak feeding! Fools! If there is one real man among you, let him test my truth...and to the one who walks back on this path of tar I offer my protection from the palefaces.>>


[[King. Of. Spades.]]

The Comanches look up at the flickering specter approaching them. Some were present at the last appearance of The Hawk, out on the the Texas plain. Most had only heard the tales from the others.

The fighting grinds to a halt as the warriors look at each other and mutter among themselves. None of them seem very eager to step forward to meet the machine's challenge.

some mood music

A thick, black mist creeps out of the Grand Bull. The swinging doors creek in a wind that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Then there is the soft jangle of spurs on wood, and The Harbinger steps out of the saloon, pistols holstered. It turns it's cowled head toward the clank, pats the guns at it's side, and strolls into the street, turning it's back on the defenders at the barricade.

It watches the brass automaton and waits.

Adrian was completely and utterly non-plussed at the sight of Alouette coming up behind the barricade, and then the reappeared Harbinger. He was still trying to make out exactly what the dang thing had said. Apparently, the clank had insulted the Injuns and offered up some kind of challenge - that much was clear, though not specifically what it said. Reminded him of the Ranger and her nearly endless string of animal metaphors. "Damn," he said. He pulled out a flask of whiskey and was about to take a drink from it, when he remembered that it wouldn't do him much in the way of good.

Instead, he passed the rough whiskey to the Marshal. "S'gonna be alright, Evans. Hang in there."

The automaton tilts its head and stalks forward a few paces more, leaving Deputy Chicken on a waterbutt. It looks at the apparition through one lens, then the other, sparks crackling between brass fingertips. Then the laugh.

It's the kind of laughter that might come from a bloodied warrior who knows the torture will kill them before the enemy gets a thing they will not give, fierce as the tearing of a hooked beak, wild as a blaze of arson. The clank's head jerks as though to beckon: bring it, white boy.

[[22:19, Today: Alouette rolled 6,5 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,5. Intimidate + white chippit of annoyance]]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Fri 21 Sept 2012.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=leX9GLacmUU

The grim figure faces the automaton down.

"This is not your fight, little bird." The Harbinger whispers. "This is not your land. This is not your town. These people do not deserve your pity, your mercy, your protection, your anger. They are sin and violence and not worth saving. Turn away now. Allow the slaughter to cleanse this land of the stain of these wretches. Or draw against my hand, and be swallowed."

Its hand hovers near the guns at its side. The Hawk, however, might notice a faint quiver in that hand, almost imperceptible to human eyes.

The automaton backs as the Harbinger paces up along the street, its steps as careful and precise as those of a drunkard striving to concentrate. It stops when the Harbinger stops, head swinging back and forth like something sunblind until with a slight tilt and angling of the 'beak' it seems to gain focus.

Static hisses. Then the laughter bubbles up again.

"You mean the cow-keepers...or the men that follow you? What is the hunter, who cares nothing for the buffalo? The reaper...who calls down the hailstorm?" challenges the voice from the crackled storm. The Harbinger raises a gun, fast.

Not fast enough: a shot howls past the automaton - now charging - and another, and another, the other gun brought to bear but hitting nothing. The machine/angel leaps, impossible in its grace and power as though true sinew stretched ahead of the body of a bird, unheard thunder thudding against the souls of those present like the downsweep of some mighty wing.

Time seems almost to hang as the metal being twists slightly in the air to compensate for some unseen inbalance, one brass foot striking the Harbringer's chest an instant before the other. The spectre goes down like a thing of flesh and blood under bone-breaking talons, the flash of the clank's decending 'beak' plunging downward like lightning.

The Harbinger screams. It's a hideous sound, felt like unendurable pressure in the skull, a twisting in the gut, harmonics outside the mortal plane scraping like nails down the soul. It's the sound of something that should no longer be able to feel pain in helpless, thought-destroying agony. Several of the combattants further out are brought down, kneeling or leaning on whatever's available, head down and hand or kerchief raised to the sudden gush of nasal blood.

The Hawk ignores the noise like the squealing of a doomed rabbit, static brightness flickering a moment with the sensation of wings fluttered for balance in some other air as it pins the demon's desperate flail for a gun underfoot. The 'beak' tears down again and again. The invisible point cleaves into the spirit's substance, rending it in strips as raw as meat and intangible as shadow. The screaming stops.

The clank stamps about until happy with its balance on what's left, apparently devouring the fading remains of its opponent by the chunk. It pauses once to shriek possession at something(s?) no-one else can see, then Adrian for some reason, but otherwise has done with the fallen Harbinger quite quickly, leaving scraps reminiscent of nothing more than scattered fluff at a kill site.

It turns its attention to the bulletproof Comanches, straightening and regarding them with a tilt of the head that might be termed 'expectant'.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:31, Sun 30 Sept 2012.