Near Midnight, April 11th, 1879. The Wendell Mine. Good Friday.

"We are here to return the serpent spirit Tezactlcoatl back to it's slumber." Dr. Ward says. "We believe that this will drastically reduce the incidents around Blackthorn and allow us to return to a more normal state of affairs. Once the Aetheric entities are dealt with, we can turn our attentions to the round-up, and then using the proceeds from the liquidation of the herd to reopen the mine and exploit the Ghost Rock veins."

"We Got Dynamite!" Tex grins, holding up a crate of the stuff.

"Yes..." Dr. Ward coughs. "As a last resort, we have brought some explosives to seal off the serpent's lair for all eternity."

As they walk, Carl sees the glow of a lantern...but where Murphy sees a group of friends, Carl realizes the truth...he's been enchanted! He's surrounded by bloody skeletons, aping the voices of Ward and the Dust Adders, and can't see them for what they really are...they're getting ready to pounce...
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:03, Sat 03 Nov 2012.

Carl whistles sharply for attention, adding speech for emphasis, his tone one of tense command: "Murphy, here. Now."

Tumbling thoughts catch up with instinct as Carl scratches up a stone: No bodies that way - if the Snake can fool one man, why not two? I wasn't drawn down by the sound of friends, but it knows I'd go to Murphy in danger. Snake wants me to leave the weak spot in the pile. There's nothing there.

The stone sings its way towards the skeletons, but Carl's aim is thrown by the blinding effect of their own light and it just pings off the tunnel wall with a scatter of echoes.

[[Carl Allans rolled 1,-3 using d4-4,d6-4, rerolling max with rolls of (4+1)5,1. *bonk*. ]]

If Murphy's heeded him and got up that far Carl'll set him to watch their tunnel and hop/slide just far enough to grab the rope and be in range of nabbing the looted Indian rifle.

Murphy turns around, taking a few steps toward Carl.

"Ease up a little, Carl, would you?"

Murphy doesn't like that Carl calls for him like he would for a dog - but there is something in his friend's voice, that makes him walk towards him anyhow. Not before turning back to the group though, and telling them:
"I'll check on Carl there for a second. Hey Doc, did you bring your medicine bag? Carl's been wounded."

The scientist eyes Tex's all too happy expression about explosives warily, then agrees with the Doctor, "Last resort...  Emphasis on last, hmm?"  He then gets distracted by a peculiar scrabbly plinking sound from some wall of the tunnel, muttering, "Bats?  Possibly....though I haven't really been looking for signs....  Yes, they do generally make a squeaking noise instead of a rocky scrabbling one...  Point taken."  The idea of someone wounded brings him around again, "Oh my.  Not badly I hope."  Stepping to Ward's side, he offers, "I can accompany you.   My Subsonic Hormonal Adjuster has beneficial effects on the healing process.  One of my first discoveries in fact...."  He seems quite ready to continue rambling pointlessly, but is stopped by a wretched coughing fit which he hurriedly manages to catch in his handkerchief.

"Anything will help, I guess."
Murphy shrugs.

There's clearly something wrong with Carl - besides looking more than halfway savage at present, barefoot and snarling, his body language is all threat and tension, not acknowledging the presence of friends, stranger or employer at all.

Dammit, Irish, I know you took butcher orders from Yanks, but I give a damn. Carl moves to be ready to half-slide downslope if he has to, very aware of the almost-cleared patch now at his elbow. "I see bones behind you," he growls in elaboration.

In reply to Augustus Spotswood (msg # 4):

Ward nods. "Very well. Let me take a look." He follows behind Murphy.

At Carl's comment, Ward frowns. "Bones?" he looks off into the darkness. "Everyone, keep alert!" He turns back to Carl.

"Bones?"
Murphy looks around, more curious than alarmed. There seems to be little that can shake the Irishman.

"Carl, I think you're losing it. It's the bloody mine. And the dead men behind that barrier. And that back-breaking work without a proper drink or meal for several fucking hours!"

Persuasion for Carl... but first: Danger Sense!
20:48, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 4,3 using d8-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 6,5. Danger Sense!

20:48, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 6,5 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,5. Calming Carl.