In reply to Mad Irish Murphy (msg # 8):

Carl tilts his head a little when Ward speaks, like a man hearing something indistinct and far away. He still hasn't reacted to Ward - or anyone else's - presence at all.

He visibly starts as Murphy looks round, seeing sinew and finger-bones scoring through the man's hair...but Murphy doesn't notice. Carl untenses a little, though the rockfall beside him gets a fierce look. Nothing there.
"Could be. Turn an' wave your arm at length behind you," he says, the urgent get-out-of-the-fire tone replaced with curiousity if anything. "You still hearin' Ward around?"

Murphy raises his arms, waving them around, then even does a little spin-around.
"There. Are we good now? Come on down, Carl. Doc Ward's can help you. And then there's that other fellow, could be a friend of Evans... Easy now, Carl, everything will be alright, I promise."

Murphy reaches a hand out, walking towards Carl, slowly. His voice sounds worrying.

Carl points downslope with his knife, then at the pile beside him. "..."

"Hold still!" Ward says, worried now. He ducks as Murphy does his spin, then reaches out to put a reassuring hand on Carl. "We're here now. It's all right."

Carl ignores Ward completely.

Dr. Ward lays his hand  on Carl's shoulder...

Carl goes from immobile tension to startled instinctive action without any obvious transition, twisting to bite whatever just touched him (fortunately to little effect, but the tooth marks in Ward's shirt cuff attest to the ferocity of the attack) and backing against the rockfall. He's looking at Ward now, but the gaze has no recognition, just hostile confusion...and the knife remains ready.

[[21:04, Today: Carl Allans rolled 7,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,2. *chomp* Hit! Reckon a straight bite's Strength, then.
21:07, Today: Carl Allans rolled 3 using 1d8-2, rerolling max with rolls of 5. damage can has? 3 or 5, depending on whether phobia penalty applies.]]

Murphy sighs.

"Anybody got a canteen?" He grabs the first one that is held out to him, opens it and sniffs.
"With Water! What's the matter with you?!"
He takes another and, finding this one more satisfactory, walks toward Carl, gently pushing Dr. Ward to the side and backwards.

"Here mate, have a sip of water. Bloody awful work that was, ey? All those bloody rocks and all... You know, they should call this the Allans-Murphy-Passage, no matter if there's a more leisurely route or not."

His tone is cheerful, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Funny thing, ey, how they show up just when we're about to be done with those bloody rocks, hm?" He leans in. "Between you and me, I think Tex is a bit of a shirker when it comes to hard work." He grins.

He pulls a somewhat clean handkerchief from his pocket and uses the canteen to make it wet. Then he wipes across Carl's brow, gently.
"There, I think the soot and sweat got into your eyes, made you see funny things, mate."

Don't you fall apart on me now, mate.

"Another sip of water, Carl? Then we'll sit back and let them handle the rest of the passage. And the bloody bastard ghosts behind that wall, of course. And then we'll take out that bloody shaman and tear up that fucking picture. Send them indians running home to their mamas, their feathered tails stuck between their legs. It'll be a sight so see, I tell you."

10:51, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 7,3 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,3. Calming Carl White chip 2.
10:50, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 1,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2. Calming Carl White chip.
10:50, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 3,1 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,1. Calming Carl.

After wiping his lips as politely as he can manage, Augustus followed along after Dr. Ward and the, as yet undiagnosed, perhaps mentally deranged Irishman.  The sight of the other man was a pitying one.  A soft empathetic tsking sound is uselessly offered.  At least until the biting.  That causes the scientist to level his weapon of new science at the more obviously mentally deranged man of unspecified geographic lineage.  The weapon hums its ominous triple-tone as he duggests, "Perhaps I could render him...."   The Irishman's gentler intervention gives him pause though and he doesn't fire......yet.

Carl's happy to drink, but flinches away from the hand near his face, refusing to let that cloth touch him or obscure his vision - to the point of stealing it and holding it in his free hand whilst pointing at Ward.

"Tell me what's there," he rasps, every sense screaming at him to fight his way out. Is this what it's like, before the black shakes hit with the cramps and the screaming leaks? He looks over/down at Augustus, frowning.

[[I expect you can keep your chips, Murphs - 1) the Stray prefers RP between PCs and 2) it's not actually Carl that's the problem, it's the Snake messing with his Cautious and Loyal Hinderances whilst he's off-balance with fear.]]

"OW!" Ward yells at the bite, and pulls his hand away. "...Delirium of some kind...he may need to be restrained while I work..." he massages his hand. Ward looks as Spotswood. "You have my permission to use your Neurological Interrupter on Mr. Allans if Mr. Murphy cannot calm him down."

He turns his attention back to Carl. "Mr. Allans, tell me what it is you think you are seeing."


((OOC: Carl's right...keep your chips. I'll only call for rolls if I think they're necessary from a mechanical standpoint, or if you're dealing with an NPC.

Oh, and Carl? No phobia penalty on Damage...damage rolls are not trait rolls (which is why you don't roll a Wild Die when rolling damage). Thus, you did 5 damage to Ward, which makes him Shaken.

13:07, Today: Dr. Dexter Ward rolled 9,5 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 9,5. Recover from Shaken. That's a success and Raise.))

Murphy shoots Ward an annoyed look, trying to send him a telephatic message of "let me handle that".
"What I'm seeing? Seeing the same thing you do, mate. You just need to look harder.
You just snapped at Doctor Ward. He's trying to help you, get that wound bandaged. Back there", he turns to point at Augustus, "is a fellow I don't know. Came with them. From the looks of him another greenhorn from Back East with too much fucking time on his hand and too much tools lying around. You know, like Evans."
He turns back to face Carl and leans in a little.
"They also brought Tex, who would've been great to have around here like 4 hours ago, excuse me if I'm repeating meself, but I really hate moving all those bloody rocks. And then there's a few more Adders back there, didn't count them and didn't stop to look who on account of me being worried about you, mate. Did the ghosts get to you?"

Augustus nods to the Docotor and does his best to look the part of Stalwart Guardian Raedy to Do What Must Be Done.  Rumpled and disheveled as he is, not to mention covered in wire and whirring, humming gadgetry, the scientist does not manage the look very convincingly.  Mr. Murphy's description of him though brings him standing straighter, "That's...but...  How...rude....  Mr. Evans?  Who?  What?"

"Please, Mister, I'm trying to help me friend here. And you haven't introduced yourself so how am I supposed to know your name?"
Murphy immediately turns his attention back to Carl, lowering his voice now, so that only Carl can hear him.

"The fey gave me many a gift, mate. But I've always had me a knack to spot danger. How else do you think I survived the uprisings and the reprisals? And trust me, you're the most dangerous thing near me, right now. Except whatever lies in that bloody shaft behind you."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:51, Mon 05 Nov 2012.

Murphy gets a searching look, then Carl turns his attention to the laughing top-hatted skeleton gleefully hopping about nearby.
"Don't see Ward," he says.

He looks back at the muttering horror with the elephant gun spidering around on the rocks, and shakes his head. The lack of attack - and a skeleton that cared about being bitten - spoke for Murphy having the right of it, but accepting all his senses were more or less compromised rubbed him up all wrong inside. Carl catches himself grinding his teeth and forces himself to stop. After a moment transferring both cloth and knife to the same hand and massaging his temples he nods to Murphy's question.

It hurt, it hurt so much to be acting like his father blind drunk, now of all times and at the whim of the damn Snake. Carl swallows and holds out his hand for the water back. The DTs were to do with how thick the blood ran in a body, he knew that much. He breathes in deeply.

"Time's a-wastin'. Git Ward away, have Talks t'Birds guard this spot where deadders're like t'come if'n he's got a gun an' git Tex up soon as possible - don't want shootin' if we c'n avoid it. Then I'll come down an' you can tell me who all's here 'cause I cannot hear, see, smell nothin' but dead flesh. 's in the goddamn walls."

Murphy breaks into a big smile.
"Sure, Carl, absolutely."
He grabs his hand, shaking it, then turns to Ward.
"Sorry, doctor, I was wrong. Carl's fine. Won't need your attention."

Then he relays Carl's orders to the rest of the gang.

"I can hear the both of you talking, Mr. Murphy." Ward says, raising an eyebrow. "And no, he is not fine. We need to get him out of here and into a safe environment. He needs rest."

Augustus seems to be in perfect agreement with the Doctor's assessment, "He does seem to be suffering from extreme exhaustion effecting his ability to reason clearly...."  Trailing off, the scientist glances away and mutters, "No, not similar at all.  I am not seeing and responding to things that aren't there...  Yes, I have slept recently...  It was...um...  There was that nap and...  Well, I haven't been very hungry...  Oh hush.  I'm fine."  His attention swings back up again, "Rest would likely do him a great deal of good.  Talks With Birds?  Obviously raving...  There are no Indians that I have noted amongst the hands..."  Leaning in, just a bit, towards Carl,  the scientist continues in very slow, carefully enunciated tones,  "Mr. Evans is it?  You seem quite weary?  Can you come with us, hmm?  To a nice bed, eh?  You seem to be hallucinating, sir."

Carl frowns, moving his head as though trying to catch a distant sound, then looks at/through Augustus as though he'd just declared 'blibbityblibbityboo'.

He shakes his head a little, then points at the rock behind him.
"Guard. Fer our lives."

Augustus looked past the man to the large rock behind him.  With a good natured shrug, he looks back again to the poor madman, "Of course I will guard your rock.  It is very pretty.  I will keep it quite safe for you until you feel better."  The scientist straightens with a proud smile, "There.  He seems much more amenable.  Just needed a firm hand is all."

Carl watches the inexplicably weed-rimed, antlered ghoul hoot with laughter and level the gun at him; it's with difficulty and a taut spine that he steps towards the weapon, presenting as little body surface as possible as he reaches out, feels along the barrel far enough to be able to point it away from him and steadies the aim at the patch he's concerned about.

Still firmly holding the gun, he stares at the thing's eye sockets, through the shadow to the faint bloody glimmer in the depths. The stare is cold, and calm, and lethally impersonal as a half-frozen torrent.

Augustus gets five seconds of that before Carl moves down a bit, trying to work out what's going on elsewhere without the benefit of sane sight or sound. Something low-tailed and wretched at the back of his mind is padding tight, trapped circles and whimpering and in truth he just wants one solid adversary to lay into. Blindfold, if need be.

At least, Augustus thought he was more amenable until the madman moves forward and puts a hand on his sonic weapon.  "No...see here."  The scientist does his best to shake loose the grip, "Step back or I will be forced to fire!  I mean it!  It is non-lethal, but you will not find it pleasant!"

Carl doesn't have a chance to respond. Neither does Ward, Murphy, or any of the Dust Adders.

The instant Carl moves away from the hole, there's an explosion of bony claws, arms, skulls, ribs, and every other bone a body can think of. The thing rears up into a giant, vaguely humanoid thing of loose bones. Carl is seized by the thing with a "hand" made from jawbones, spinal cords, and a thigh and lifted into the air...

some mood music




((OOC: Everyone make a Fear Check! (-6 for being in a Deadland, -2 for the monster's Fear rating, + Grit).

Carl, you're being attacked. The thing it trying to grapple you. It has The Drop, so it gets a +4 bonus to its Fighting Roll.

once you're done with that, Draw cards for Initiative. There are a bunch of allies: 4 Dust Adders and Tex, as well as DR. Ward.

Who would like to take control of the Dust adders for this fight? Who would like to take control of Tex? (I'll be keeping control of Ward.)

Bone Glom's card: AH))

Carl's one unambiguous thought as he's picked up bodily for the second time in the last five hours is that he hopes Murphy recalls what he was to do in this circumstance and runs for the narrower tunnels. Find leverage, get out of this grip, keep moving.


[[09:48, Today: Carl Allans rolled 1,-6 using d8-8,d6-8, rerolling max with rolls of (8+1)9,2. fear! Worth a chip.
Carl Allans rolled 4 red chippit. -> 5

Carl Allans rolled -1,0 using d10-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2. agility to resist getting monster mashed (that right?). Eh...no.
09:55, Today: Carl Allans rolled 7,3 using d10-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 9,5. white chippit of annoyance. Permission to drop phobia penalty if a Dust Adder (besides himself) is in immediate danger, for the sake of asking?

init. KC]]