Charging Bear manages to shift towards the wall to get out of the way of the rain of bullet coming towards him

OOC: Red chip to soak the wound
09:34, Today: Charging Bear rolled 8,4 using d10+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 6,2. Soak (+2 Elan).
soak w/o issue

---

Jeb moves to behind Frost and slashes at the other specter. His knife comes up rather short.

OOC: 09:37, Today: Charging Bear rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. Jeb - Fightin'.
Epic fail!

"Stay with me, big guy, stay with me", Murphy keeps saying to Henry.
He takes one of Henry's hands and presses it down on his wound, then pulls his own bloody hands away.
"You'll be alright, mate, I just need to get someone, just hang on, mate..."

He slips away, toward the commotion with Frost and yells: "Could you all just fucking stop for a fucking second?!? I'm not gonna let fucking Henry bleed the fuck out and carry his fucking corpse back up for his fucking buriel! Not a guy of his fucking size!"


((Unsure if I should roll something here... I also have the Turncoat adventure card that could be useful here.))

"Paddy..." the big man struggles to sit up, gingerly taking his bloody hand away from his chest. "...Paddy, I'm fine. She done made it better." He stares up at the Ranger, touching the new-healed skin like he can't quite believe it himself.

[[Wildcat fixed him! I'd do a Wildcat Yelling post, but I'd like to see if Nate listens to Murphs at all first.]]

Carl flattens himself beside the small exit passage and gestures to the others to guard Tex.

"Then what the fuck are you sitting around for, you big baby?"

Murphy sounds more relieved than angry, though and he nods a quick "Thanks!" to Wildcat.

"You shot Henry!" Tex bellows. "I'ma kill you!" he leaps towards the specter and whales about with his massive red fists. The attack doesn't seem to affect the ghost at all.

The rumbling continues. It doesn't quite sound like the roar of a cave in, more like the movement of something massive.

((OOC: If you want to try a Test of Wills against Nathanial Frost, that would be an Intimidate or Taunt check. Turncoat might work if you can convince Nathanial to leave, but Nathanial's Vengeful hindrance and the fact that most of the people he wanted vengeance on are right here in this cavern will make that difficult without good RP.))

((Playing the Turncoat card. I'm guessing we'll go through a little back-and-forth to roleplay this?))

"Jesus, Tex, hold it together, will you?" Murphy pushes past the rest of the men, facing Frost.

He clears his throat, his posture somewhat awkward. "Uhm, hello Nathanial. Would you mind letting us pass? We have something of an urgent, uhm, situation, here."

Dark blood pours down Nathanial's ears from the hole in the back of his head as he tips his head back to laugh in Murphy's face. "Hell yes I do! The snake demon Tezcatlcoatl is gonna wake up and swallow this damn shithole of a town and all those I hate along with it! Why the Hell would I let you pass? You're only down here to muck the whole thing up! I want to see Blackthorn burn, Irish. Aside from killing those that killed me, it's all I exist for now, and I won't rest until everyone is dead, dead, dead!"

((OOC: Sure, though getting him to let you pass is something more than a minor favor unless you phrase it right.))

Murphy nods along at the tirade and scratches his chin.
"Sure, Nathaniel, I get that. I mean, the killing your killers part. You always had a great sense of justice.
'Twas what made you a great leader of the Dust Adders."

He shrugs. "But, wanting the whole town to burn? That's harsh, mate. When you led us, you made us a promise. You promised us we'd be safe. Promised us you'd take care of us. If you didn't intend to keep that promise, why not kill us back then?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:58, Thu 01 Oct 2015.

[[20:48, Today: Carl Allans rolled 4,4 using d6-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 5,5.  sneakin'.
20:49, Today: Carl Allans rolled 2 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2.  red chippit.
20:51, Today: Carl Allans rolled 8 using 3d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,2,2.  impulsive white. -> 7 Stealth versus anything poking its head out here...hey, he tried.]]

Carl gives only half a mind to the proceedings, trusting to Paddy's gifts and Nate's arrogance to keep the ghost talking rather than shooting awhile. Agile despite the night's toll, he leans to scoop up rock dust left-handed and almost idly smears it across his bloody, sweat-stained neck and chest, swiping the last over his face.

It wasn't much disguise to his scent, but perhaps enough, with the others here, to give him an edge. Carl shifts his bare feet on the rock and flattens himself to the wall beside the narrow exit, venomen knife ready.

Charging Bear ponders for a moment shooting the specter but hoped that the Adder's words would convince the dead man to let them move along.

OOC: still alive ;)

The Ranger has her arms tightly crossed with the look of something about to go off like a half-dozen sticks of dynamite.

[[Wildcat's biting her tongue...so far.]]

In reply to Mad Irish Murphy (msg # 31):

The specter laughs. "That's easy. When we were the kings of the town, we could do any damn thing we wanted. As long as we toed the Enlightened Society's line, we were the kings.  And things were going so well until you fuckers all turned on me. Me! You failed to take down that peckerwood Evans, you let the redskin walk around town, you couldn't even break a stupid walking tin can. And then you turned on me. You all turned on me! If any one of you sons of bitches had been any true friends of mine, you'd have hidden me from Evans. You'd have at least let me get out of town. Where was our promise when I needed it, huh? When I was the one needing protection?"

The ghost glares at Ward. "Instead, he sticks a death curse on me, and then you all decide to roll over and join the marshal's posse and blow me away. Some friends you all were."

Back still to the wall, Carl joins the rest of the Dust Adders in giving Ward a 'you did what?' look, brow creasing as he tries to work out whether it's another trick of the Snake's.

Ward wouldn't do that to one of theirs, would he? Surely not to Nate, who'd looked up to Ward as a kind of paternal figure despite himself and even worked his way in with the Moonies. Carl tries to read the ghost's face and body language for truth, troubled, then looks back to Ward, resting the back of his skull against the rock behind him to keep track of those vibrations.

Murphy nods, seemingly not too surprised by any of this.
"Yeah, mate, look, I know it looks bad, but none of this was really anyone's intention. Except possibly that death curse thing, I don't know." Murphy looks over at Ward, his brow furrowed.
"We'll have some words, later."

He looks back at Nathaniel.
"Everything has been going to shit, recently, what with the dead not staying dead and all that. Indians not being put down by a head shot. Fuck, mate, I was stopped on the road by a bloody union sergeant. Bloody dead he was, too. So, aye, few folks made a lot of really bad decisions.
But you can't blame everybody else for that."

The Irishman shrugs. "What about Nancy, you want her to die horribly, too? I thought you had a thing for her? Me Flora told me she was devastated when you got, you know, killed, in that duel."

Nathaniel waves his hand dismissively. "So what? She was nothing more than a bed-warmer for me anyway. If she's too stupid to run, she deserves to get swallowed with the rest. And yeah, I know everything's going to shit. That there is what happens when you make deals the Devil. If you want to blame anyone for this mess, blame Ward there. Ain't none of this would be happening without him"

Dr. Ward frowns. "A skewed perspective, but not wholly inaccurate, which is why I have come here in the first place--to rectify those mistakes."

Nathaniel laughs out loud. "Are you Jesus now? Can you raise me from the dead? Ain't nothing you can do to right that wrong, Ward. You cursed me, and the next day, lo and behold, I died! Hey Carl!" He says, looking around. he doesn't spot the quiet Dust Adder in the darkness. "Tell me, Carl...are you sure your decision to gun me down was your own? Or was there maybe some slight nudge, something he 'asked you kindly,' that maybe tipped you into gunning down your boss?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:10, Tue 06 Oct 2015.

The idea gets a faint snort from Carl. He'd stated his reasons for calling on the duel whilst Ward was lying in a pool of blood behind a horse, with several witnesses. He concentrates on listening to the movement up-track.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:08, Tue 06 Oct 2015.

Wildcat picks up what Carl doesn't say, however, and she has had it - had it - with holding her piece. The Ranger marches over to the spectre, grabs her hat and backands it, well, through the ghost's face. "Dagnabbit I am sick of hearing you jaw, you low-down legless lizard!"

"You done attacked innocent people, includin yer own brother! Yer mama loved him jest as well as yourself, what kind of respect does that show fer a woman? An' I figger you're an orphan now, but that's jest it, ain't it?" Her gaze is intense as the apex of a summer sky.

"I ha'nt rightly put it all together 'til now. See, th' quiet feller told me about his Pa and I figured he was tellin' me that were why he got in trouble with th' Law, on account of he got treated bad once an' went off thinkin' that were how th' world went, why should he be bothered t'be better? Only that weren't it at all. His Pa is here, an' he tole me that acause that shit happened and he survived an' kept going, an' it don't hurt no more...th' town's been tellin me that too but I bin too thick t'hear it. An' that's it. Blackthorn has been fightin' so damn hard jes' survivin' I dint figger it was tryin' t'git better at all...but if some people would put down th' bottle - whatever kind o' addict'in they got, in youre case this dumb blamin' on everybody else 'cause you're too yeller ter man up to your mistakes - an' quit bein' afraid a hope...y'all could make a go of it."

"You ain't special for havin' shit happen to yer, Frost. My Pa got shot, Carl's Ma died, I heard Ward's folks got lost in th' war...pro'lly there ain't no-one here that's not lost someone they care 'bout, to wars or disease or bad dumb luck."

"You never did make yerself special, yer jes' a snake all lyin' in the dust waitin' fer somethin' t'come close so's you could bite it an' claim it were gonna tread on ya. But you got somethin' most folks'd give th' world fer - you got t'come back. An' if you're really goin' to waste that with the same ol' stupid games, never bein' anythin' acause you're too scared t'make yer own decisions an' grow the hell up...you really are nothing, not even worm dirt, an' you c'n strike me down...strike all of us down jes' to prove you never could hurt anyone who weren't reachin' out t'you...an' we'll die knowing it. That you're nothing. Forever."

She takes a deep breath, living colour still high in her cheeks. "Or you could quit lickin' them raisins you call balls, turn this all around. All your strength cain't change our mind, but it c'n change yours, an' you can listen to what Murphy's sayin' there, still tryin' ter be your friend. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."


[[Didja miss them walls o' blue text? I missed them walls of blue text. *puts Wildcat Speech in own post*]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:13, Tue 06 Oct 2015.

Murphy sighs. Couldn't people just get along?

"Look, Nathaniel, what do you really want? Say you stop us, we don't stop that snake, the whole town burns down, everybody dies... Do you really want to spend all eternity with the rest of the dead folks dying here? I reckon nobody's going to Heaven, bless the Virgin Mary, you know, on account of all the bad things going on here. So we'd all be stuck here, forever. That's a damn long time."

He shrugs.
"You know, why don't you let it go? All your anger, justified it may be? And we'll deal with Ward, too. Put him on trial or something. You know, like you would've handled it. I promise you, you will get justice."


Okay... so let's see. That's a 7 from the re-roll (6+1), plus another 5 from the extra d6, total of 12

12:05, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5.  Blue chip on top.
12:04, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 6,4,1 using d8,d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 6,4,1.  white chip complete re-roll.
12:04, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1.  Blue chip on top.
12:04, Today: Mad Irish Murphy rolled 4,3 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,3.  Persuasion.

Charging Bear continues pondering just shooting Frost ... for old times' sake ... or earlier that day sake.

The spirit looks a little dumbfounded to be swatted at with a hat and ranted at. He takes a step or two back, even though the hat really just moves through him with no effect.

He frowns at Murphy. "You have a point. I don't reckon I need you all here forever and ever and ever. You want to go? I can get behind that...but I want to watch the man that killed me get his right now." He points at Ward. "Shoot him dead and you can all go and do whatever damnfool thing you think you can against Tezcatlcoatl. Ward's the one I want dead most anyhow. None o' this would have happened without his curse tipping things."

Whatya gonna do now, lad?
I'm not saying that often, but Da, I'd wish you'd be here right now.

That is quite the conundrum, my dear fellow.
Oh, fock the conundrum and fock you too. Bloody focking bastard.

Murphy slowly shakes his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, mate - but we need him to stop the Tess..cat...coat." He shrugs, the foreign words tripping over his tongue.

"Besides, you know I'm not a killer! Nor executioner. Why'd you turn me into one? And a bullet to the head ain't no trial. Not even here.
I get if you don't to give him a fair trial, too, but at least you oughta give him a fae trial!"

Wildcat's eyebrows nearly meet as she tries to follow Murphy's logic. "Th' cave may be gettin' to Murphy there, but he's right: Ward deserves a fair trial."

Her look softens just a bit. "You deserved a fair trial, too. Ev'ry citizen of th' Confedrated States does, or it comes down to jest free-for-alls, an' that's no way to build a safe country - a free country. He's 'countable to more'n you. More'n all of you," she adds, giving the other Dust Adders a good look at her scowl just in case they were thinking of trying something.

*BANG! BANG!* ... *BANG! BANG!*

Sounds like someone further on and somewhat lower has a kind of ghost-gun, too.

"We should probably move." Charging Bear suggested, a pistol in one hand and a tomahawk in the other. He glanced down towards the gun sounds.

Nathaniel looks up at the gunshots. He frowns. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Irish. You get this fucker what he deserves, or I'm going to come after you."

He begins to fade away.