Sarah dropped the shotgun and dove for the reins, but missed.  But her voice rang out in the darkness: "Billy, you've stood firm against the valley of the shadow of darkness!  No bovine is going to cow you!"

OOC: Missed the Agility roll, so the Driving roll is moot:


20:21, Today: Sister Sarah rolled 0,2 using d6-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 2,4. Agility.

I do, however, want to use Beast Friend to calm Billy.  I think I have the modifiers right, but check me on them if I;m wrong:


20:32, Today: Sister Sarah rolled 4,3 using d12-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 6,5. Faith

That should be enough to settle Billy, so he doesn't run off. 

[[Looks right - I won't apply Size modifiers unless you're trying to preach down a stray elephant or something.]]

Billy stumbles alarmingly as though distracted by the terrible pun, but doesn't trip, his gait smoothing from an outright sprint of terror to simply running away because it's what makes sense to him to do. The big animal is clearly oblivious to the reins dangling dangerously alongside his back hooves, each leaping stride risking entanglement.

[[Billy the Mule rolled 3 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3. unshake Billy

He's no longer Panicked, but he is Shaken (as an equine, this means flight) and will be Fatigued from the running. Might want to ask him to slow down a bit there/warn him his legs are at risk...]]

"Billy!  Stand firm in the light, you're too ornery to be running like a possum!  And I have carrots waiting for you, so you best behave!"

OOC: Do I need to make a roll, or does it happen automatically, since the power is sustained?

[[ecksdee 'possum'...I don't reckon you need to roll Persuasion or anything since the power implies a degree of obedience from non-stranger beasts...mechanically, I'll say it adds a +2 to him unshaking.

Billy the Mule rolled 4 using 1d6+2, rerolling max ((2)). There we go.]]

Billy turns his ears to this, but only pulls to a skidding, skipping halt at the word 'carrots'.

"Augh," Clemmons remarks, unfolding from the edge of the seat. Hank leans out and joins Billy in looking warily behind them. The screaming undead cattle can't even be seen through the rain, though the faint wail still reaches the travellers on the breeze.

"What...what was that?" Hank asks, in case anyone knows more about exploded undead steers than he does.

Sarah hopped off the buckboard, letting the rain pour off her bonnet.  She pulled out a few leathery carrots, and fed one to Billy as she gathered the reins and leads.  As Billy munched, she carefully tied him to a tree.  "Eat up, boy!" she encouraged, as the mule downed the last carrot.  Then, he nickered at her.  "No Billy, you're not getting a sugar lump, you know it gives you wind something fierce!"

Once the mule and wagon were secure, Sarah came back around, and reached a beefy arm under the bench.  She pulled out the shotgun and aimed it at the sky, and hung the crude cross made from sharpened stakes around her neck.  "Well, what are you two waiting for?  Those cattle aren't going back to Hades by themselves, you know!  We can't let those beasts run around and scare helpless folk.  The stakes are just too high!"

"Run around?" Hank queries, decidedly dubious of his newfound sister's plan to run off into the rain. "Hey, now, it was only the heads moving there, them steers was all exploded up - what're they going to do? Bite people? Hell, anyone who goes up to get bit by those things deserves it - 'certified dumbass' stamp."

Clemmons smirks at his friend's reluctance to abandon shelter now they have it, then looks down to Sister Sarah. "If you're truly set on it, I'll come down the road apace. There's Comanch' out there somewhere, after all." He does wait to see if she is that determined, however.

"If I were a Comanche I'da gone home hours back," Hank complains, though he's staring ahead with concern. "Say, they must have quite a bonfire goin' at that ranch, getting the clouds lit up like that with this rain coming down."

Sarah checked the break of her shotgun.  "Doesn't matter if it's heads or tails.  If you don't want the bum end of the steer, you'll stand for what's right and put those things in the ground!"

She eyed the two men carefully.  "I ain't about to turn two men out in this rain, but if you're going to ride with me, you're going to ride with the Lord.  If you make me ride off, we're going to ride off with a glorious song.  I'll be singin every last hymn my pappy ever taught me, and while he was a great man, he had the worst tin ear in the whole south!"

The shotgun clicked closed, with a snap punctuated by a burst of thunder.  "Now, are you going to stand with the Lord, or cow in fear?"

Sarah's damp strays glance at each other for some seconds - there's a fair bit of communication passes between them with that look, most of it opaque. Hank does retrieve his gun and flop over the end of the wagon, though. "You want to bury them?"

"If we don't get shot by Comanch' or in mistake for Comanch' tryin'," Clemmons sighs, swinging down.

Hank, hatless, hunches against the rain and tries to keep his weapon dry, clearly immediately considering going back in. "This is nuts, sis," he tells her.

"# Drink to the Devil and have done with the the rest...#" Clemmons intones in a ringing baritone that makes Billy sidestep, slightly spooked.


[[They'll follow, they just thought they'd finally got out of the rain and aren't keen...they don't reckon they can pass themselves off as preachers, though, and Hardin respects Hank's kin link to Sarah, so they won't just shoot the Sister and steal her wagon.]]

"We ain't gonna bury them, that'd take too long in this weather.  Fetch the lamp oil, those wooden stakes, and that lockbox.  We're sending them back to the devil in glory, we are!"  Sarah gathers the supplies and starts bustling back.  "The plan is, shoot the heads full of lead first.  If that don't put them down, back off and let me try to pin them in plaCe.  If nothing else works, we'll light them on fire."

OOC: Code of Honor, remember?  I can't leave an evil monster behind to terrorize other people, I have to at least try to destroy it.

Clemmons takes the lockbox off Hank to spare the lad's wound and looks over at the stakes, frowning. "How 'bout we skip that middle step?"

Hank hugs a can of kerosene to his chest dubiously. "I think it was ghosts...all that weird dancing light around the horns and how the heads were smashed up but moving anyway...you can't light ghosts on fire or shoot them."

"Weren't cattle ghosts, anyhow," Clemmons remarks, starting the slog after Sarah. "That was some kinda Injun talk they was spoutin', save for that Spanish bit 'bout the pale horse. Hey miss, how about you sing them to death?"

The cattle themselves seem to have quieted a bit, back down the track. After a little walking, the travellers notice a white light like a lantern set on the road. A little closer and they can make out the figure of a man apparently carrying out roadworks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:54, Fri 23 May 2014.

Sarah lowered the shotgun just slightly, and adjusted her cross.  "Hey, y'all!  What are y'all up to in this pouring rain?"

The man pauses and leans on his shovel, waiting for them to come a bit closer to save him yelling over the dreadful wind and rain. Once close enough, they can see he's an older fellow, ambiguously brown as any peasant in the world, his face worn and wrinkled like a leather book. "Doin' what I'm supposed to, ma'am, and it's only me here." He smiles like a favourite uncle, all the beauty of a gnarled tree there in the many lines of his skin.

The stranger looks up and over at the others like he knew they were there. "Oh, and Wesley too! Howdy there, and howdy young sir," he turns back to Sarah a little with a tip of the hatbrim. "What are you all doing out in this rain?"

"We just got near scared to death by headless cattle screaming in a heathen tongue.  Y'all seen anything strange going on?"  Sarah relaxed visibly, but the shotgun did not waver in the slightest.

The dark old man with the shovel laughs, heedless of the rain pouring from his hat. He has the kind of voice one could listen to forever. "Have I seen anything strange? Lady, I have seen dead men rise to fight each other and the living, I have seen Hell's fire in black powder and the shuffling of cards...I have seen an angel stretched crucified with brass yet made to walk for the sake of a holy man's fear."

He smiles. "...and I have heard the voices of apocalypse, and the silence of dead towns fall so deep and dizzying it makes the ears ache. I have seen God evaporate from men's souls in this heathen country, and a proud people die retching in the dust, aware the plague passed mouth to mouth from the lip of a bottle yet unwilling to save themselves whilst a drop of corn liquor still rolled about the bottom...I have seen men kill each other over gold and not stoop to pick up a stray coin. I have seen men beat down and murder women for the sake of a sour mood, and leave children with bloody roses blooming at their chests for $5 a little scalp."

"I have seen a man free slaves and march in wild destruction over the South in the name of bringing it back to his nation's bosom. I have seen those same once-slaves' bodies mostway mummified long before they fell dead of hunger on the trail. So glad, so glad to die for the word 'freedom'." He leans further on his shovel, grinning. "-and I have seen two wet rats and a woman go with such determination to destroy already headless cattle. Have I seen anything strange? I couldn't say. Buisness as usual, ma'am, buisness as usual."

He steps away to retieve a pitchfork with which to loosen up some gravel. "Hey, Wes," he calls over, amused at the bigger man's slight flinch. "Don't worry, I ain't calling for what you owe me...but on our friendship, would you swap boots with me? Mine are about wore out with walking."

Clemmons, surprisingly quiet all this while, blinks a bit but goes to one knee to start fumbling with his laces, albeit reluctantly. "Uh, sure thing, Lou."

The roadman's feet are actually nearer Sarah's size, but it seems either pride or the shotgun prevent the old fellow from asking her for charity.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:06, Mon 26 May 2014.

Sarah stared at Clemmons.  "You know this guy?  What on earth do you owe him that you'd give up your boots in this weather?"

OOC: Sorry, just got out of the ER and am loopy with meds.  I can't focus on a longer post right now. 

[[oh no! I hope all your necessaries are still attached - get well soon!]]

The roadman raises an eyebrow at Clemmons, since it's his story to tell.

"He, ah, got me out of jail one time. Was a big misunderstandin', you see, but they took th' opportunity to clean up crime, as it were, by pinning jes' about everything they hadn't hung a man for yet on my poor back-"

"Law does that, if they get ya and don't reckon you have kin near," Hank adds earnestly, studying the roadman's hands as he holds out an old boot to be exchanged with Clemmons'.

"-there was no way I could make bail. I was in the shadow of the noose, shorn of cash and property, and, well, I guess I was all fought out and doing something like praying when Lou showed up."

"He'd known me back in Georgia," the roadman puts in, recieving the second newer boot. He doesn't sound quite Georgian, though: that marvellous voice has smooth hints of a first language not from the Americas at all. "Well, I got him out and well-lawyered, furnished him some good sidearms-"

Clemmons mutters something. The stranger chuckles. "Come now, they ever failed you? -sundry other equipage, some cash and a horse. Time was I was a man of wealth and taste." He smiles, the lantern light glittering over his teeth and shadowed eyes as he looks up, then down at his lacing again. "Poor Wes has been scared stiff I'll call it all in at once, but I am fair content to take what comes around."

He stretches out a booted foot to admire the new gear whilst Clemmons gingerly squelches foot to foot, testing where leaks might be. "Bit by bit. I've been making deals a long time; I've an eye for the right kind of man and it's rare I lose on an investment."

The rain purrs against the earth in a quiet moment between lightning and thunderclap.

"I'm surprised you never met him, ma'am, being a preacher's daughter," Clemmons says, looking on up the road and straining to hear any cow-like commotion.

"I do love me a religious revival," Meet-On-The-Road admits, beaming, then casts an eye over Sarah. "Hmm..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:15, Tue 27 May 2014.

"My pappy met a lot of people."  Sarah said primly.  "He did the Lord's work, helping folk everywhere he could.  Some people jest shone with the light of the Lord.  So tell me, road man... do you shine?"

OOC: Detect Arcana.  I got an 11, which should count for a raise.  If I read that right, it doubles my duration.  I want to know if this guy is magical in any way, Blessed or otherwise.

02:36, Today: Sister Sarah rolled 11,4 using d12,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 11,4. Detect Arcana.

The old man looks up as he straightens, and for the first time Sarah finds herself looking deep into his eyes...and ten thousand years of raging hate. "Famed for it, ma'am."

In reply to Meet-On-The-Road (msg # 33):

"Dear sweet Jesus" Sarah says as she rubs at her eyes.

OOC: On my phone, so i cant paste the die roller result, but I got a 3.

It's the last thing she says before she realises her heart has stopped.

[[Fail!
20:34, Today: Alouette rolled 22 using 1d20+6, rerolling max with rolls of 16. fear table! Heart Attack. Give me a Vigour -2, please.

Success will leave you Shaken for 1d4 rounds, failure will leave the others with 2d6 rounds to save Sarah's life. ]]

OOC: Still on my phone, but i got a 7.

[[Alouette rolled 6 using 1d4, rerolling max (((4+2)6)). You're out of action for about two minutes, I reckon.]]

Sarah falls to her knees, an emptiness in her chest that runs a jerking panic around her muscles. As she struggles with the realisation I might die here, she's dimly aware of the interactions of the others a few steps away. It's all so distant, with the blackness closing in.

"Sarah! What did you do to her!?"

"Nothing at all, I just was." The not-man's voice remains utterly calm, despite the click of a cocked pistol. "Either use it or put it away, boy," he says, already moving over towards Sarah.

"So fragile, you mortals..." Meet-On-The-Road says, kneeling to assess Sarah's trouble. He undoes her bonnet to help her breathe and runs a hand back over her scalp to raise her head, and even as Sarah's soul writhes within her in desperation to avoid that touch, she knows her world is changed as abruptly and as violently as a limb lost to cannon fire. Those terrible eyes meet hers again. "Die or withstand it, girl."

Sarah's heart thuds defiance. She breathes. As the roadman nods and straightens she becomes aware of hot tears mingling with the rain on her cheeks, drawn from some fearful, animal part of her that knows without conscious thought what was recently just inches from her face.

[[reckon you can talk now, if you're minded, though not do more than maybe crawl/stagger for a little longer. The boys'll help Sarah up for the asking.]]

Sarah used a tree to help stagger to her feet.  Despite nearly falling again, she waved off assistance from the other men.  "Die or withstand it?" she asked, as strength crept back into her voice. "Only the good Lord knows when my time is, and I reckon it ain't now.  My pappy taught me to look for monsters, and while I don't know what you are, mister, I reckon you ain't one either.  And when my time comes, when Jesus calls me to be by His side, I figger that while you're real pretty, it ain't a patch on what the Hosts of Heaven are going to show me."

The old man's grin grows broader and broader until he simply cracks up, doubling over and baying with laughter in the rain. Hank scowls in confusion.

Clemmons just shakes his head, if anything more nervy at the roadman's laughter, not reassured. He looks over at the afflicted preacher, keen to be away. "All right. You still set on burning these steers?"

In reply to John Wesley Hardin (msg # 39):

Sarah nods.  "Let's just bull through this, ok?  First lead, then fire."