"I cannot see any issue with Mr. Murphy having sole discretion of when to use the launching device." Ward says. He frowns as Ned walks off, but says nothing to the man except to tip his hat.

"My preference would be to wait until Mr. Spotswood has finished his device, then proceed together. I do not fancy facing what comes ahead with a split group. While we wait, we may as well plan strategy."

Accepting an unlit match from Mike, Carl catches Charging Bear's eye. "You go on scout, 'n take Jeb. See th' shaman, kill'm and git runnin'."

He gestures at Tex to indicate why running back towards Dust Adders would be smart if pursued by Comanche, then starts quietly gnawing the bare end of the match. The spot where Jeb's voice was last heard gets a sudden, feral grin, but the Dust Adder adds nothing vocally.

"Sounds fantastic as far as strategies go. Find him and kill him, I mean. No offense, Carl, but that's exactly the kinda thing that'll make us all go boom."
He looks at Agustus: "Not that we're in a hurry or anything, Mister, but when's this thing going to be ready?"

He shrugs at the reply.
"We don't know if they don't have a few explosives on their own, this being a bloody mine and all. I'm fine with Jeb here and him", he nods at Charging Bear, "to be up ahead, but make sure the rest of us don't follow them up to close. Nice and easy and spread out.
Tex and Carl, you should be second in line. Tex is gonna make the pace, anyway and we'll need a guy in charge up there, Carl. Then me, Mike and you, doctor. Rest behind us. When we get to the chamber, the first two groups need to go left and right, respectively, you know, spread out a little, so that we have room.
Who ever's behind me stays there to watch me back. Our backs, I mean.

How does that sound, Carl?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:28, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

A nod of his head was the native son's response to the usually silent Dust Adder's plan. His eyes shift to the Irishman and when he's done says, "Actually, a scouting group finding and killing the shaman would be ideal. It would put the braves into a panic and hopefully stop the spirits from fighting."

Carl nods to Charging Bear's sentiments, flicking a glance to Heavy Henry to herd Tex far enough out of the way for the native to pass without tempting the man-mountain to flatten him.

"Room for what? Blowed up is blowed up," Heavy Henry points out, setting to it. "Drawin' some off, that was a better idea. I don't want t'git cut off from y'all against a score of 'em, that's jes' asking to be scalped twice as fast."


"We don't actually know what the caves around the Rock lode look like, neither - nigh everyone workin' that far out was kilt, and those that weren't ain't he- Spanish, what're you lookin' at?"

Joe mutters something and chafes his arms urgently, then shakes his head for 'nothing'. Mike gives him a 'stay steady' look and goes on: "-here to ask. It needs scouted, an' Charging Bear can hurt 'em. I figure if we're goin' to split it ought only be two groups...I don't cotton to the idea of th' scientists left without fightin' men, not when there's all these side-tunnels, nor Tex mostways-unattended when the Snake might start up a holler 'bout how we're frightenin', and he should squash us. I mean, I know Carl's dimmer'n a candle through molasses-" Carl half-smirks at the insult.

"-but if it can mess with his head...yeah. Don't reckon we should git out of sight of each other more'n we can help. We're going to have to start rationing light in mebbe an hour, too."

((OOC: Just waiting on motion toward action, folks.))

"Oh, Joseph fucking Mary and Jesus!" Murphy swears, drawing his attention back to him.
"I'm not saying anybody should walk alone in the dark, that would be stupid. And Henry," He turns to face him, "Yeah, I like the drawing off part more as well. But Carl's in charge, and it's his decision. So you want to draw them off, be me fucking guest. It's not like it's easy to sneak up on a fucking indian anyway and you're certainly... ah fuck it, forget it."

He shrugs and spits.
"By now we've talked enough about this that the bloody walls in this bloody mine will have carried every bloody sound into every bloody chamber anyway. Let's just hope their English is as bad as your's, Spanish. And what the fuck are you looking at, anyway?!"

The small Irish man is clearly not in his best mood.

The ex-mining Dust Adders look up at the roof in a superstitious check, not quite in synch. "Don't...swear the good out, Paddy. Not underground," Mike says.

Heavy just catches Murphy's eye and tosses the smaller man his canteen, then goes back to makig sure Tex doesn't get it into his head to run off to find Comanches to fight.

"Fairies, maybe," Spanish says, his expression hard to gauge, then looks off at the dark again. Still dissatisfied, the Dust Adder kneels and listens to the floor for a bit.
Carl spares Murphy a look as he goes over to check on whatever the hell Spanish is at. "..."  The wrangler crouches to Joe's level. "?"

Charging Bear felt tired he didn't care for it but what was happening won't give him a moment to rest and when it did ... well it seemed the white people couldn't accept rest as an option. He lightly touches the tattoo on his forearm as he waits, the area is still tender, but he felt like it was healing.

"Fairies?"
Murphy slowly gets next to Spanish and looks into the dark.
"Gra, Dilseacht, Cairdeas!" he calls out, softly, and in Gaelic.

Waiting didn't work for Charging Bear so he did as was suggested and headed out to scout.

OOC: Apparently I'm a HORRIBLE player as I'm doing a terrible job keeping up with this game ... ugh

((OOC: Charging Bear, make a Tracking Check, -2. Where are you attempting to head?

Joe, Carl, you don't hear any slithering in this part of the mine, though there's a sound that echoes somewhere back the way you came, though it's too distorted by distance to make out just what it was...))

Carl stands off, tense.

"Maybe it was bats, I only hear the Cherokee's footsteps here...but we are too deep for them to have food; I think it is...spirit creatures," Spanish reports as he kneels back, bemused at Murphy trying to catch the attention of such things. "Also, there was someone, he fell over, less than a mile away. Not a rockfall."

Mike nods and keeps his attention on the tunnel behind them as they wait, reloading.

"You got an incredible set of ears on that head of yours, Spanish."


Murphy scratches the stubble on his chin.

"Less than a mile you say?" he turns to Carl. "He's", he indicates Augustus with a thumb, "going to take a few more minutes. I... I think I'll ckeck out whatever's behind us. So there's no suprises."
He mutters something in gaelic, then shrugs.
"All that waiting makes me kinda skittish."

"Less'n a mile covers at least four tunnels," Mike points out.

Carl takes a moment to think, or at least to convince himself he's not made of paper and so really is part of the conversation. The leader, even. He stares at Augustus, estimating, then looks about, chewing his matchstick. Henry would default to drink left too long; he nods the man over to accompany Murphy, then looks to Mike. If Murphy could cut redcoat throats as a stripling boy, he'd have no fear of close work.

Mike hands Murphy one of the grey axes.

Carl indicates 'seven', one-handed, then beckons that they should come back after that, his gaze reminding caution. Heavy Henry grins. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he leaves the rest o' us some of the clumsy ones."

Carl looks at him a moment, then Murphy. "Run into a mess of 'em, run back."

"Certainly. Wouldn't want to get me shirt dirty."

Murphy accepts one of the axes and whacks the air a few times to get a feel for the weight of the weapon.
"Come on now, Henry. Little bit of walking will do you a lot of good. Stretch you legs a little, as it were."

"Is that how you got so tall?" Heavy lumbers over with a lamp.

Murphy pulls himself up to his full, albeit small, height.
"I shall have you know, good sir, that me tallness comes as decreed by the bloody royal Saxon bitch Vicky who knew that if the Irish were taller, we'd beat the bloody Saxons out from the Emerald Isle just as St. Patrick drove out the snakes. As a loyal subject, me and me family happily obliged her."

His tone is cheerful, despite the harshness of his words.

In reply to The Stray (msg # 125):

OOC: I'll go towards where the Raiders were coming from
09:55, Today: Charging Bear rolled 3,4 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Trackin' (-2 GM +2 Woodsman).
If Woodsman doesn't apply I'll reroll

((OOC: So...we have CB headed out alone to scout, Muphy and Henry headed toward Wildcat's position, and the rest waiting for Augustus to finish his device, yes?))

In reply to The Stray (msg # 133):

OOC: That sounds about right.

((OOC: Murphy? You still watching this thread?))

((I am indeed! Summary sounds right, boss))

[[Carl's still back with Augustus, too. That and on smack since June...]]

Charging Bear quickly discovers the tunnels beyond the bone fiend's lair are a maze. The tunnels cross each other, meander aimlessly, and are empty of signs of recent travel. The raiders must have come another way entirely, but the way back to those other tunnels was blocked by the cave-in they triggered.

There's a choice before him and the others. Try to follow these tunnels and see if they circle around, or return to the cave-in and try to clear it.

Charging Bear's navigation is made slightly easier by the cart rail in this section, but it quickly veers off. He also notices some Ghost Rock seams in the walls, which look like they might have been exposed by an earthquake of some kind. The ghost rock seams get larger the deeper into the tunnels the native son proceeds, but they don't follow the rail.

((OOC: It takes Charging Bear roughly half an hour to complete this scouting trek. he could push on and see where all the tunnels go, or return to the group. What's it to be?))

---

It takes Augustus roughly half an hour to finish the dynamite launcher. Ward nods in approval. "Excellent. Our defenses are ready. Now we simply need to wait for our companions before pressing on."

((OOC: Unless Mike or Carl have better ideas.))

---

It takes Murphy and Henry around half an hour to retrace their steps back to the tunnels near the Indian artifacts. There, They spy a glowing woman cussing out a group of creepy, red-eyed crows. There's a burst of air, and the crows scatter as a sudden gale whips through the tunnel. One of the crows is dashed against the tunnel sides and is left dazed, but the others take to the current and begin circling.

"Blood! Death! Murder!" they cry.

((OOC: 00:04, Today: Deep Crows rolled 7,3,6,7 using d8,d8,d8,d8, rerolling max with rolls of 7,3,6,7. wind resistance. Even with a -2 penalty for them being airbone, 3 of them make the roll--the 4th is Shaken.

Henry and Murphy get a chance to react to the crows before I roll for them. I'm not bothering with initiative for this fight.))