Coraline and Dr. Whateley arrived at the old church where they had met up previously, before the fateful trip to the ranch and their encounter with Dr. Grint, and spent the remaining hours of the day discussing the various principles by which they accessed their otherworldly abilities, with Whateley acting the role of an academic. He had a quick grasp of Hoyle's, and was able to help her locate some choice bits that he thought would round out her knowledge in certain areas.


When the sun had begun to dip below the horizon and the light was waning, the inside of the chapel was brightly lit by the sphere summoned by Whateley - the faerie fire as he called it. It was all rather peaceful until the gunshots started to ring out in the distance.

"I suppose that's our call to action," he said dryly, standing up and pulling out his wand.

Pleased that Abaddon had been able to help her through some of the trickier parts of the hex, she rose to join him, her waving her fan lazily in one hand.  The hex had been a complex one, but she'd managed to grasp the concept quite well -- at least in theory.  A more practical application was needed and, judging by the sounds of battle in the distance, she was going to have a chance to test her skill.  Though she thought it a pity she didn't have a shiny wand like the doctor.  She wondered if she could integrate a removable one into a fine walking stick.  Perhaps if they managed to live through the fight.

"I am ready if you are," she stated firmly, heading out of the church and into the night.  Her heart pounded against her chest as they made haste toward the sounds of gunfire and chaos.

As Coraline stepped out of the church building, things bad become considerably darker, but the weather was still warm as ever. Abbadon followed her quickly enough, though he took a moment to move and keep the globe of light moving along with them as he moved out of the building. By the time he stepped out the door, however, things of a sudden seemed to be a bit colder than they were. Towards the center of the town, a building seemed to be on fire. From a distance, it looked to be the General Store.

As Coraline and Whateley approached the scene, they came across Wyatt Earp, Daniel d'Alex, and Caleb Morgan who had converged on the location. The burning building on one side of the street lit their figures brightly. In the night from a distance gunfire continued to ring out.

"Doc, Miss Hawthorne," the Dodge City lawman greeted them as they approached.

"There's some kind of a brawl in the tavern here, and I expect it's like to be dangerous, and there's trouble going on across town as well. I've left the rest of the posse up on that side, but I want to go have a look as it hasn't seemed to die down. Marshal Morgan, I think you and this part of the posse take care of the tavern brawl. I'll head down and see what's going on down there where the gunfire is at and meet y'all up back here if it's handled." With that, he took off down the road.

Not long after he left, there was a gunshot from within the tavern, and the sound of a woman's scream, and a man's as well.

"No time like the present." Caleb nodded at Earp and then ran toward the tavern to see what had become of the brawl. Much of the time letting folk work off some steam didn't end up with anybody too badly hurt. But once guns were drawn in a crowded building, too much could go wrong.

Daniel followed closely on Caleb's heels, thinking that they shouldn't waste any time with pleasantries, given the situation.

"Goodness!" Coraline jerked at the sound of gunfire so close and swung her attention toward the saloon.  Lifting her skirt with one hand, she quickly followed the men into the tavern, fan nervously rapping at her thigh.

Darling arrives at the center of town in time to see Coraline and the others heading toward the saloon. Leaving his Gatling slung, he clears his coat behind his holstered revolver and follows after.

The inside of the saloon was cold, not usual in a summer day, though the temperature wasn't the strangest thing about the place. There was a palpable sense of tension in the room, a body on the floor, and blood was splattered about the room as Caleb opened the door he could see blood spattered about the room. Like a whipcrack, the man in the middle of the room turned around, interrupting his rant about killin' Yankees, a Colt Dragoon pointed at the door from one hand, his other hand holding a torch that flickered brightly even in an already decently lit room.

An ugly man in life, death hadn't done much to improve him. Rotted flesh hung off the side of his face, and he wasn't the only dead man walking in the room. Four more of them stood on all sides, each armed and ready for killin', though silent as the grave. There were several more ordinary civilians about of course, still alive and quivering with fear, some on the floor in the center of the room on their hands and knees, and some behind the bar, peeking over.

"OPEN FOR BUSINESS. SERVIN' YANKEES FOR DINNER!" the man roared at the top of his lungs as Caleb stood in the doorway, amusement loud in his voice as he fired off his gun at the lawman.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:54, Thu 11 June 2015.

"Avakhi!" Korpi warned from the top of the saloon, black against the darkening sky. Her brother looked up as the others piled in the front door and hung back a moment to glance through the window, trying to gauge the situation.

Both Siberians flinched as a shot rang out; Korpi left the gunplay to the iron devils and dropped down to the porch rail in a near-silent swoop of shadow to untie Clemya.

Quantrill.

Even as his reflexes took over to move him out of the monster’s line of fire, his mind struggled with the reality of it.

As Morgan had tracked each of the renegades he had hunted across the prairie, the thought had haunted him. Had this man had a hand in the massacre at Lawrence? Had he thrown the torch, or fired the shot that had taken his family from him? His need, his obsession, to see all of those that played a role in it brought to justice had fueled almost all of his adult life. He had completely abandoned those that cared for him and embraced the lonely life of a predator, all in the name of righting the scales. In so many ways, he knew, he had become every bit as terrible as those he pursued.

But here was the one who had masterminded the slaughter at Lawrence. The one who had given the order that had made him and Josiah orphans. Who now refused to surrender to the grave in the name of putting still more of the defenseless to death.

His back against the wall left of the saloon door, he felt the lingering rage he fought daily to control rise to the fore. His anger over all that he had surrendered, his hatred for those that murdered with impunity.

Quantrill had to be stopped. And Morgan believed he knew how to make certain. Perhaps now, that black night in Missouri would prove useful for something.

Those that he cared for, the friends that he had ridden alongside these last weeks, might well destroy him when it was over. And they would be right to do so. But he had to be sure that Quantrill fell.

His decision made, he returned his peacemaker to its holster. And he let go.

The moment he did, the pain manifested, the horrific sensation that his heart was going to rend itself free from his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes as his knees buckled and he fell, the agony of it overtaking him.

”Hold him,” he pled through clenched teeth, the last vestiges of his voice fading, ”Please, hold him here.”

"You want his heart, brother?" Sky Dog asked, a perplexed grin playing over his lips at the American's unwillingness to strip. "Ah, but he will not go past Dalix..."

Backing a step, Sky Dog threw a glance to Whateley and Hawthorn where they stood close together. "If you would act well for the people, there are ones on the floor that are needing a strong shield or to blind the eyes of their enemies," he told them, and loped off around the building to secure the back.

Daniel entered the fray at Caleb's heels, and called out to God for protection. "Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood!"

Daniel's sword was at the ready, and he looked at each of the unliving that they were faced with, sizing each of them up. He slid out of the doorway so the others could enter.

Sky Dog rounded the building and aimed for the darker patch he assumed to be a back door, running swift and low. A few paces later he was up to the door and grasping the handle, but the door refused to open. Sky Dog frowned and pushed it, shoulder to the wood, and found the resistance to be high up.

No metal clattered; the shaman leant back and shifted his knife in his hand. A wooden latch or thin bar. Well, that could be dealt with.

He moved to one of the shuttered windows that hung open looking in, and taking a step back from the window so he would be somewhat protected from random reaches from within, he brandished his wand, which seemed to be crackling with a violent black sparks. He whipped it back and with an expert flick of his wrist cast the wand forward towards one of the rotting, walking corpses he saw in the room. Tendrils of black lightning lashed out from his wand, shocking the deader where he stood.

Arriving at the saloon door, Darling shouts, "Get away or get to fighting!"

He swings his Gatling up on its sling and -- aiming high to avoid injuring the civilians -- fires a burst of slugs at the nearest deader, hitting it in the head.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:39, Thu 18 June 2015.

With reflexes that could only be called unholy, Quantrill tilted his head to one side as the man with the Gatling pistol let loose a hail of bullets on him, a bullet flying past his ear - a near miss. The move cost him though, with a second bullet piercing his lower gut. Unusually black blood welled up through his shirt, but if it at all seemed to bother him he showed no sign of it.

"Y'all Yankees got some nerve! Well, I always liked to have a little sport with anything I kill. I'll save yer women 'n chil'r'n for last!" He barked his sentence out with amusement, raising his gun and pointing it at Daniel's head, pulling back the trigger.
This message was last updated by the player at 21:21, Mon 22 June 2015.

Randolph grits his teeth and fires off another burst at Quantrill, chewing up the outlaw's arm.

Coraline had taken up a semi-protected position at one of the windows, having the distinct advantage that many of her hexes could fly through the wooden shutters to her intended target without deviating.  She gritted her teeth as she saw Daniel take a wound to his head and angrily reached into the beyond to wrestle a demon to do her bidding.  Ghostly cards appeared in her hand and she hissed at the results, releasing them with an irritated flick of her wrist.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:07, Fri 26 June 2015.

Spinning to turn his firearm on the man with the gatling that was peppering him with bullets he fired off a shot at Randolph with his Colt Dragoon, pointing the weapon towards the reporter's midsection.

Randolph feels the dead man's slug tear at his duster, but stands his ground and fires back!

The continued Gatling fire drawing his attention, Quantrill backed away at the overwhelming odds, pulling back against the back wall of the room, firing again at Darling.

Out beyond the saloon door, Korpi's black bird eyes took in the scene with far greater accuity than a human's gaze: she saw the hot shine of each bullet passing between Darling and the demon, each ticcing twitch of the muscles around Morgan's neck and skull, the tremor in his clawed fingers, shifts of the sawdust on the floor. Black blood soaking up and across the weave of cloth. The dull gleam of Daniel's sword and the tension folds of the shirt across his back.

The movement of cloth across his broad shoulders only made it clearer that he was wide open at the end of that fruitless downward stroke. If the demon's attention fell that way for an instant...

Korpi pushed off and threw her wings wide once through the doorframe, planing into a glide at the dead one's face.

"KORrrr."

Korpi banked before collision with a snap at the demon's hanging flesh, flying upward and away from Dalix and the demon both.

"Y'all take this fucker," he said, pointing towards Daniel.

The three of Quantrill's 'companions' that remained standing after one of their number had fallen turned their weapons on the swordsman at once and fired in succession.