When they closed the door, Adrian moved to sneak over to the other bedroom.

OOC:

I'm actually not sure what room they've gone from and what room they've gone to, so I'll trust you to guide me in the direction he's looking to go - somewhere where he might reasonably think they aren't now.

08:04, Today: Adrian Vega rolled 1,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. stealth.

[[Al & Ginny came up the stairs, Al noticed Ginny's dad looking dead and called Widow Bradshaw from the library to take the kid inside. Al's still at the base of the spiral stairs there, examining Bruebaker and waiting for someone called Abraham he just yelled to...]]

Moving swiftly, quiet and cat-footed, Adrian slips around the door whilst the cowboy's back is turned and moves to sneak over into Ward's bedroom.

[[Dust Adders rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5. notice. Al is a decidedly Active Guard right now.]]

The cat sits up, tracking his movements; her attention causes the cowboy to whirl, drawing what looks like a sharpened wooden spoon from his belt in the same movement as though expecting a spring. "Shit-!"

Seeing Adrian has a gun, his eyes widen, then narrow when he realises he doesn't know Adrian at all. "Who the Hell are you?"

"I'm Adrian Vega," he responded. "My daddy was Vincent Vega and my mama's name was Irene Ackerman 'fore she was married. You mighta known 'em if you're from around here. Grew up here in Blackthorn. Anyway, there's a shitstorm going on outside, and I wanted to get inside somewhere, and here I am. Do you know what all that's about?"

---

OOC:

Thanks for the explanation! I don't know if I need a Persuasion for this, since everything he's saying is strictly true, but if I do I have a 6 just to persuade him to be like the Fonz. That is, to be cool.

(Casted a spell to boost his persuasion. Dealt with the Devil and won again, got more than the power points he needed with a 2 pair hand, rolled spellcasting but didn't get a raise, so that's a boost fom d4 to d6 on Persuasion)

08:33, Today: Adrian Vega rolled 6,3 using d6,d6. Persuasion.
08:33, Today: Adrian Vega rolled 7,2 using d8,d6. Spellcasting.
08:29, Today: Adrian Vega drew the 10 cards: 7S, AS, JD, 6C, 10D, 10H, 2H, JH, 3D, 6S using the Deadlands system. DwtD Boost.

The cowboy frowns. "How 'bout I tell you what I know when you've proved you're not the vam-pire that did this?" he asks, gesturing at the stricken man, though his eyes don't leave Adrian and that gun. "Don't reckon you are, since you got past the wards pretty easy, but I hafta know how you got in an' if it came in with you."

He leans back on seeing someone coming up the stairs to speak to them: "Mayor's wounded. Reckon we got one in the house."

The old man in butler's dress coming up the stairs grips the bannister with the arm not currently in a sling. "Oh Lord..." he whispers hoarsely, then swallows and resumes his climb. "I'll do what I can, but I usually assist with Doctor Ward's tableware, not his surgery."

"'s fine, I jes' need to know if we can move him," Al responds, still watching the dripping stranger warily.

Abraham comes level with the stairhead and blinks upon noticing Adrian. "Who-?"

He lowered his gun, but still held onto it. "Adrian," he said to the man coming down the stairs.

"And I ain't no vampire. I ain't tried to bite nobody, have I? Don't know how the hell to prove it, though. You can find plenty o' folk in town to vouch for me. Say, if you got wards up in the house to keep a vamp out, how the hell did one get in to bite this poor asshole?"

The cowboy bristles. The older man steps in before he can speak, however, literally placing himself between the ranch hand and Adrian.

"Mister...Adrian, none of the cattlehands currently besieging this house were previously inclined to bite anyone, at least not outside the context of a bar room brawl, until a few hours ago. The townsfolk would surely vouch for them as well."

He sighs and awkwardly fumbles out a head of garlic from his jacket pocket one-handed, breaking off and offering a clove. "Please. I believe biting this would satisfy Mr.Whitver." The butler's tone is infinitely calm, but Adrian's boosted senses note the tension in him. Nonetheless, he walks up and looks Adrian in the eye with the lack of hesitation that suggests he was a free man long before the war.

"As for the wards, that is what we are trying to determine. I'm afraid it is imperative, sir, that you tell us how and when you got in, and whether that egress might be used by our enemies."

Right then there's a great multi-voiced cawwing from the room beside the stair; the cat startles a little and stares. Adrian catches sight of lots of little red eyes all piling up around the threshold.

Al backs a step towards the library in preparation to inform the occupants of this noisy development but doesn't turn, the gun drawn under cover of Abraham's back held ready if not raised.


[[Al's recently seen most of his local buddies slaughtered and turned into bloodsucking fiends; he is not very Fonzish right now. It might pay to remember this is Blackthorn, and evasiveness is far more likely to turn NPCs hostile than being honest about supernatural stuff.]]

"I'd be glad to eat that, Mr...." he said respectfully, extending his free hand to accept the garlic clove, and waiting to see if the black man would give his name.

"Hell, I'll eat as much garlic as you need to prove it. As for how I got in, I came in through the crack in the window. This gonna sound ridiculous, but there were some magical birds and I convinced them to pick me up and fly me in. I'm dripping wet, you can follow the water trail to verify that's where I got in."

"Just Abraham," the butler replies, handing him the garlic.

"What, these guys?" Al points his spoon at the crowlets piled up at the threshold, setting them all cawwing about danger and pleading to be let in again, despite there being nothing to prevent their entry into the house visible to the naked eye.

He visibly relaxes. "I guess if Liz's birds think you're all right you're prolly some kind of Moonie or voodoo gambling man...anything we can use right now is good. They were guarding the porch - vamps kept tryin' to throw things on fire onto it, smoke us out. They're pretty keen t'have us dead by sunup."

He taps on the library door. "Liz, when you can - the birds're all in here and kicking up a racket 'bout something." There's a muffled response.

"I don't suppose you'd have any kind of medical background, would you sir?" Abraham asks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:22, Wed 26 Mar 2014.

Making sure that they were watching him, he popped the garlic clove into his mouth and chewed on it. He occasionally opened his mouth while he did so - he knew it was bad manners, or so his mama had always said - but he wanted to show them just in case they still had a doubt. When the garlic had all been chewed up he swallowed it.

"Now my breath is gonna smell like garlic, though I'd wager that would be an improvement. Hope that's enough for ya."

"I'm somethin' of a gambler, I guess you could say, but it ain't voodoo. General idea is close enough though, I suppose. If you need to put down some vamps, I am more than willin' to lend a hand. The less vamps around, the better off we all are. Anyhow, them birds, they wanna be let in. I think maybe the wards are keepin' 'em out."

The garlic is near-painfully sharp on heightened senses, but certainly bearable: the vampires must have a keener sense of smell and taste than this.

"Keeps 'em from bitin' you in the face," Al responds, then halts and stares a bit, looking from the mass of little bird-things to Adrian. "You can talk to them? I thought only Liz...ask 'em why they've up and ditched their duty, then: we need them on the porch."


Abraham goes and kneels by Bruebaker as the crows chorus their rasping objections, checking the fallen man over. "We'll need some cotton to stem the bleeding here, but his neck's not broken...his back, well, it looks all right to me, but God help me, I wish I had Doctor Ward's opinion...yes, move him. It'll have to-" This time, the interruption is a pounding on the main door down in the hall. The men look at each other.

"Shit, the porch!" Al swears, pale. The ominous thuds continue.

Through the railings, Adrian notices a compact black-clad figure limping rapidly towards the door, clearly meaning to move the small cabinet wedged against it.


[[Abraham rolled 5 using 1d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 3. common knowledge Medicine, +2 for living with a doctor maybe a couple of decades. He can confirm it's possible to move Bruebaker without killing him.

NB the house is too soundproof to hear Evans from upstairs.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:57, Thu 27 Mar 2014.

He cocked his head to the side, as he listened to the birds. "They ain't gonna guard the porch. Say there's somethin' bad in the yard, from the barn. They're scared, and they wanna be let inside the house. You said you'd tell me what you knew once I proved I ain't a vamp. Well, I ate the garlic, so how about we tell me what the bad thing from the barn is, and who all turned vamp? If I'm gonna take you down, help y'all keep that woman and kid safe, then I'd do well to know more than I do right now."

The cowboy is too distracted to answer him, having noticed the black-clad figure reaching the front of the hall and opening the door.
"NO!"

Someone downstairs has noticed, too: there's a hoarse "Jingles, I will fucking kill you!" roared from somewhere out of Adrian's vision.

Abraham grips the rail, looking down, but leaves the running down there to Al and turns to Adrian. "The madam from the travelling burlesque show appears to be the original vampire - she seduced one of the Enlightened Society, Mr. Whateley, who unfortunately probably leapt at the opportunity to become a half-dead monstrosity of the night," the calm of his tone takes a slight bitter tinge.

"We lost six hands, then Mr...Seven witnessed Whateley dragging Mr. Milburn out into the carriage house...why he opened the door, we don't know, but they were attacking the front of the house at the time. If not for Mr. Seven checking the other exits we'd be overrun." He swallows.

"Then another vampire turned up and chased the others off...we took the opportunity to barricade. If anything's in the barn, it's Whateley or his doing, but I have no idea what could scare the crows. Would you help me move him, please?" The injured butler nods down at the Mayor.

"The library and the living room have wards built into the walls in addition to the doors and windows. If all else fails..." he glances at the scene below, then concentrates on shifting the Mayor as best he can "...those rooms will hold until daylight, if we can adequately barricade the doors."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:37, Thu 27 Mar 2014.

Adrian shook his head. "I'm sorry Abraham, but I think we have priorities to see to and movin' Bruebaker should be far down the list. You just told me that there's a vampire in the house, and it's all warded up. If it was hidin' in here somehow before the wards went up, that means it might be stuck in here, and it's gonna try to kill as many of us as it can before we kill it. We gotta see that woman and the girl are safe."

He looked over to the door that had just been opened and the person that just entered. "Say, Marshal Evans, that you?" he called out.

"The wards have existed since Doctor Ward had the upper building and carriage house constructed, sir, therefore the vampire must have found a means to break in, possibly through a storm-damaged part of the roof, or been invited over a threshold and thus trapped in these very corridors and open areas," Abraham says in the same measured tones. "Even if you don't care for this man's wellbeing, he is the father of young Miss Geneviève, and she, not to mention Mrs. Bruebaker and his elder daughter, whom I pray will also soon be recovered, will be further distressed if he is left out here to bleed out at the mercy of..."

The library door opens and the slender woman reappears in her undies. There are a lot of them, taking in the lacy chemise, broad corset, several swaying layers of petticoats, the odd glimpse of long drawers and silk stockings, but the sight still leaves the butler momentarily agog.

"Don't stare, Abraham, I'm sure you've seen a woman without a dress before. I couldn't leave Ginny in those wet and filthy clothes. Now let me see to the...oh!" The woman notices Adrian dripping on the hall rug, then squints at him a bit. She seems tired, and may have been crying recently, but she seems to be on top of things for now. "Are you related to...now, what was the son's name...Adrian, is it? Adrian Vega?"

John, or Jacob, or whatever his actual name was, took a simple cat stance, arms prepared to defend upper and lower gate.

OOC: The duel rules don't quite feel right. I think a straight up fight if that's all right.

"Yes ma'am," he said politely, though he did avert his eyes from her respectfully. His body allowed him to feel no such drives in that regard, but he had memories, and knew it was the polite thing to do.

"You're Missus Bradshaw, I 'member you from when I was a kid. You mighta known my daddy Victor or my mama Irene. Don't worry, we're here to keep y'all safe." Feeling somewhat guilty, he holstered his weapon and went to help Abraham with the body. "Where we gonna move him to?"

Evans cocks his head at the shout. "Yes, Mr. Vega! I am here, just dealing with a situation. How are you?" He shouts back, then watches the drama unfold between John and the chinaman.


He eases his Gyromounted Pistol out of its holster. "Sir. Are you prepared to take this all the way? Because if you are, I will oblige you. I stand with this man, be he John Smith, Jacob Sutton, Or Johnny Appleseed."

((OOC: 10:07, Today: The Amazing Evans drew the single card: 4C using the Deadlands system.))

The Chinaman ignores Evans, keeping the wicked Sutton under his piercing jet-like stare. Oddly, he makes no shift in response to his opponent's chosen stance, simply canting his head a little and beckoning John on.


[[Initiative!

John 10S
Evans  4C
Tao Jing 2D ]]

"I'm alright," he called down. It was true enough, and if Evans had a situation to deal with, other concerns could wait. "You need help?"

"Into the li-" Abraham stops as Adrian gets distracted by the drama down in the hall and pauses rather than sighs, kneeling a moment to check Bruebaker's pulse and reassure the cat.

The Widow Bradshaw leans on the railings to see. "Ambrose!" she calls out and attempts to wave at Evans, who seems somewhat occupied with the figure in black everyone was beating up a moment ago. "Ambrose? Oh, he's busy. Never mind. Bird-ies! Come tell me what's wrong, pretty things."

The crowlets start up an utter cacophony at her approach - if she can make out anything as she kneels at the room's threshold and murmurs an incantation, she must have supremely good focused hearing.

---

Downstairs, a very soggy and somewhat muddy Gangatsu squelches into the hall from the direction of the kitchen with a sword made from a sharpened broomhandle through her sash, grumbling. Al goes over to speak to her, but she doesn't seem to care for his urgent exposition, merely raising an eyebrow at the fight.

"Ainch'a got better things to do?" she asks from a couple of paces up the stairs, then just carries on, shaking her head and muttering something about poultry.

"Birds wanna be let in, ma'am," Adrian chimed in. "Said there's somethin' bad from the barn out there, whatever that means - though I get the feelin' it means trouble. Are you the Cake Lady?"

Widow Bradshaw has an armful of crowlets by this point, holding up something unseen like a curtain for them to flutter and scurry under. She's shortly wearing or surrounded by the whole flock - crowlets on the railing, crowlets on the lamp sconce, crowlets on Adrian, on Bruebaker, and every other available surface that won't swat at them. Georgia hides behind Abraham's legs, tail lashing.

"Just a moment," she holds up a hand to Adrian. "Now, slowly, darlings."


Widow Bradshaw nuzzles her armful and the ones on her shoulders like they're a basket of kittens, not in the least afraid of the proximity of her eyeballs to things manifested as tiny flying-pirhana corvids. "It's all right, birdies...it'll all work out. Be darlings and guard this area whilst I think of what to do about the porch - and I know perfectly well you can tell vampires from human beings, so no randomly murdering people and pretending you couldn't tell."

There's a chorus of "Awww"s. "I mean it," Widow Bradshaw says sternly, in that tone that at once reminds Adrian she's somebody's mother.

She stands gracefully and comes over with her many-eyed black bouquet. "Yes, I am the Cake Lady," she says, smiling warmly. "I'm afraid I only have pancakes at the moment, though - hush, sweeties - and I think Arthur...Arthur Whateley, that is, you wouldn't know him, creepy little guy with cold hands and sort of girlish good looks. Eyes always made me think of fish. Oop, yes, anyway, Charles', I mean, Doctor Ward's summoning circle is in the old barn, sounds like Arthur's tampered with it to summon one of those nasty things from the nether depths of Hell or The Black Beyond The Stars or something, I'll have to think a bit. It really does need dealing with!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:58, Tue 01 Apr 2014.

John looks Evans. "This seems a might bit personal for him. Best if you leave it between us." Turning to Tao Jing he returned his cant with a nod and struck. His opponent may not have noticed, but John wasn't as large as he used to be. Sure his coat made him seem a little more filled out, and sure his height was still fairly average. Though to anyone who knew him from before, he had been an man of muscle, more suited to the likes of Dave. Which was why the force of his attack may have come as a surprise as an easily dodged kick was followed up with a thrusting open palm strike.

Fighting against another martial artist was like a dance where you do not know whether your partner is line dancing or ballroom dancing, so one needs to observe and adapt. Least, that was what how Zhang explained it to a rather slow pupil who took the name John Smith, and John Smith decided to show his opponent one of his dances.

OOC:
Doesn't seem much use for the duel card as there isn't any group combat to interrupt.
John Smith rolled 5,3,13 using d10,d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3,(6+6+1)13. Fighting, wing chun. Hit with a raise 13 vs. listed parry of 7.
John Smith rolled 8,5,5 using d10,d6,d4+2, rerolling max with rolls of 8,5,3. Damage total of 18.

"I'll hold my own council on what is and is not important, Miss Gangatsu." He says to the wandering samurai. Though he wasn't fond of this interruption much himself. He watches the contest.

Despite John's pronouncement, Evans wasn't actually interested in seeing someone die here, and stood ready to intervene.

((OOC: Going On Hold for now))