September 12th, 1880. Noon. The Black Hills.

some mood music

The next day passed fairly uneventfully. Those staying with the coach made their goodbyes to those taking their leave and heading deeper into Sioux territory, then loaded into the repaired conveyance and rolled away.

Jeb and Danny get back to their friendly bickering as they roll along, and the stage ride returns to it's normal, fairly humdrum motion, though the coach feels emptier without those who stayed behind.

A little before noon, the coach arrives at the way stop to change horses.

"Alrighty, folks! We done made it!" Jeb calls out to those inside. "This here is the last stop afore Deadwood! Get out, stretch, do your necessaries, and meet back here in ten minutes!"

The way stop is little more than a bunkhouse, corral, and a sturdy wooden fence. The Black Hills rise around you. It's a beautiful fall day, crisp and clear. Everything is still green. Birds chirp, and the sun is invitingly warm.

And yet...

There's something just a little off. The cool breeze is just a shade too cool to be comfortable, and when it dies down, the sun is just a shade too hot. The birds are strangely discordant, just slightly off-key. It should be a nice day, but...it feels more like the calm before a storm.

Could this be the "unnatural dread" Wovoka talked about?

((OOC: I would like those who went with the coach to please post, so I know who is where. Just post a little something about stretching, or continue any conversations you were wanting to get involved in. I'll move the thread along when everyone's posted.))

The Professor stepped out of the coach, lugging his leather Gladstone along with him. As he stood looking about, he pulled out his odd 'sonic spanner' and ignited the little lump of ghost rock that powered the tool. He held the device up into the air, staring at it with a perplexed look. "That's odd." he commented. "Anyone else notice anything strange?

As the coach came to a stop, Zac put away his notebook. He had spent much of the trip consolidating his notes, and writing his story about their adventure against the Raven tribe. He felt a pang of melancholy, despite the people traveling with him, he felt alone again. He wondered if he would see Jack again, if their paths would cross or if Zac was meant to wonder across the country alone and friendless.

He stepped out of the coach, the cool fall air felt refreshing, as he stretched his arms high in the air. It took him a moment to realize that something was quite right. Answering the professor's question,"Not strange... just feels off somehow." He felt a shiver run up his back, as he looked at the beautiful landscape.

Nate steps down from the coach and stretches out his legs, rubbing at his knees.  Feeling almost instantly better for it, not to mention the reprieve from coach travel, he can't help but smile a bit.  He gives the little way station a good lookover, then again as the Professor inquires.   His smile fades a bit, "Yeah....  Kinda hinky, y'know?   Probably just got bounced around the coach too much."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Thu 25 Oct 2012.

While the group is stretching, Danny is watering the horses and Jeb is chatting with the station manager.

"...so he returned the horse?"

"A-yup. I was gettin' worried, too...things bein' the way they are, I thought the Sioux might have had enough and attacked the stage. They're all riled on account o' the sitiation."

"What situation is that?"

The station keeper, an older gentleman with a bushy grey beard, red flannel shirt, and jeans help up by suspenders, spits a load of chaw before he answers. "Ain'tcha heard? Custer crossed the river few days ago. He's marchin' on Deadwood, on account o' them miners what got kilt. The Sioux are all up in arms about it and ridin' to stop him. They're sayin' it's finally happened. The Sioux nations are goin' to war with the Union."

"...Oh Jesus..." Jeb gasps.

"Yep. Way I hear it, folks are scared out o' their gourds, thinkin' the Sioux are plannin' to wipe Deadwood off the map any minute now. I'm closin' up shop here. Once you're watered up, I'm takin' the horses and lightin' out. Don't fancy havin' my hair hangin' from some redskin's belt, no siree."

With a frown on his face, Jeb makes his way back to the passengers.

"I done got some bad news for y'all." He says. "I just got word that the Army is on the march to Deadwood. Now, I know I can reach the town before it gets there, but I'm concerned about your safety. Are you folks sure you want to press on? Deadwood's lookin' to become the focus o' a lot of Indian attention in the very near future, and I don't feel right about just droppin' y'all in harm's way."

Stashing his sonic spanner in his bag, The Professor calls out to Jeb. "All the more reason to press on as quickly as possible.  With a little bit of luck, we can make it to Deadwood in advance of the armies and perhaps avert a calamity."

He looks to Zachary and Nate, hoping to see signs of agreement on their faces.

Zac nodded, "I appreciate your concern Mr McKeever, but I agree with the professor. If war is coming, then I guess that's where I need to be, I may only be a kid, but I'm also a reporter, and I need to be where the story is." He felt pretty resolute in his decision.

"What about you?" Jeb asks Nate. "You sanguine about continuing on? Or did you want to say with Saul here, and hoof it back to Bismark?"

Prospecting was starting to look less and less likely in his future.  Nate glanced between the others as Jeb spoke of the coming fighting.  Lost in thought for a bit, no doubt weighing out these options.  War was nothing to take lightly after all.  Jeb's inquiry brought him back around and, with less surity and enthusiasm, he answered, "Well....  I guess I came /this/ far and all....  I did say I'd help....   And maybe the Professor can help...uh...avert things...  So...  I guess I'm going.  Too."

Jeb nods.

"Alrighty. To Deadwood, then."

When the horses have been changed out, Jeb wastes no time hustling his charges back on to the stage. He gets the coach rolling again, and they travel on, left to dwell on their thoughts and feel the growing sense of dread that hangs in the air.

Several hours later, as the stagecoach rumbles over a rise, Jeb and Danny start shouting over the thundering of the coach's wheels.

"Would ya look at that?"

"Well I'll be a stuck-egg mule! Folks, looks like we got goin' just in time! Take a look!"

some mood music

Looking out the narrow slits that pass for windows on the armored coach, the passengers can see, off to the east, marching columns of thousands of troops. A sea of blue coats and glittering long knives are moving in to surround the town of Deadwood.

"We're gettin' there before they do!" Jeb says, and snaps the reigns. The horses whinny and the coach surges, jostling everyone inside.

By the roadside a band of soldiers try to wave down the coach. Most of them look tired and hungry, and a few look like they could use medical aid. Jeb ignores their pleas and the stagecoach pulls past them.

Minutes later, the coach is passing a sea of tents. Miners peer out at the approaching army, watching the columns break. They pay little attention to the stage. Soon, the coach reaches the heart of the city.



The stagecoach pulls up to the Iron Dragon rail station, and rolls to a stop.

"Here's we are! Welcome to Deadwood, Free City of the Sioux Nations!" Jeb says. "Danny, go help the folks with their luggage. Thank you for traveling with the Deadwood-Bismark Express Company!"

((OOC: So, folks...you've arrived in Deadwood. now what are you going to do?))

The Professor patted Jeb on the shoulder, smiling at the man as he commented.  "Sir, you went way beyond the call of duty in getting us here, and for that you should be commended. Excellent work."

He turned to the other travelers, "Now we seek this 'Charlie Bull', who evidently can assist us with lodgings and a sort of 'lay of the land'."

He seemed completely unconcerned with the fact that war was about to break out around the city.  The Professor stood in the street looking for a passer by he could question...

Nate nodded in agreement with the Professor, even fishing out a few coins for the coachmen, "Way beyond.  Thanks, fellas."  The tip wasn't much, but it wasn't nothing.  Might be a sizable bit of the newcomer's spare cash in fact.  Tipping his hat, he heded after he Professor, "So...   We're just gonna ask around?  Is that safe?"  Leaning in, he added quieter, "I've heard tell that Deadwood is the kinda place where new folks disappear....  Y'know?"

((OOC: If you want to gather information about town, you can make a Streetwise check to get the lay of the land with a couple hours of asking.))

Black Jack Boudreaux had joined the others who had gone to Deadwood. He had spoken with Skyhawk and had said that now the the two were blood brothers, he would follow their wishes and complete the journey to Deadwood to aid Wovoka's people. It would also allow him to keep an eye on Zach's and hopefully solve the mystery of his father's death.

"We had better be discreet asking about town. It may be we can find who and what we are looking for without tipping our hand."

"Might be useful if we don't make it clear to the townsfolk how well acquainted we are with one another. Perhaps we can split into pairs. Then we can arrange to meet in what seems a casual manner to discuss what we have discovered."

Jack looked to his friend Zachary to see if the young man wanted to remained partnered up.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:32, Tue 30 Oct 2012.

Nate gives a glance back to Jack and nods, "I agree... "  Then, back to the Professor, "C'mon, Professor.  Let's go see what we can find out."  The would-be prospector hefts his pack of supplies onto his shoulders and ges it settled in as comfortably as he can manage.

some mood music

Finding information shouldn't be too hard...there's three saloons just a block down from the train depot, and all of them look like they're doing fairly vigorous business, even with it being early afternoon.

The Gem Theater is the largest of the three. Sitting on the left side of the tracks, half-naked women drape themselves over the balcony on the second floor and wave at passers by, attempting to entice them in.



Across the street, the more stately Bella Union sits. The sounds of poker chips, roulette balls, and general merriment can be heard from inside.



Squatting next to the Bella Union is Nuttal & Mann's no. 10, a smaller but apparently no less prosperous saloon. This one seems to boast a restaurant as well, judging by the smell of pork chops wafting from the premises.



And that's all within a block of the Train station. Finding people to ask about things shouldn't be a problem, if the group wants to split up.

((OOC: So...which Saloon do you head to, or are you splitting the group to tackle all three of them?))
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:06, Mon 29 Oct 2012.

"Well gentlemen, I suggest we all find rooms at the hotel and then ask around from there. Given the delicious smell of those pork chops I am planning on supper at Nuttall & Mann's." Jack said holding up his bags.

Jack then heads over to hotel and checks to see if there are rooms available. If so he will book one for himself. Knowing that most innkeepers are snoops and rumormongers about new comers, Boudreaux resists inquiring with the innkeeper.

OOC After getting a room he will head to Nuttal's and ask about.
20:01, Today: Black Jack Boudreaux rolled 2,3 using 1d4,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,3. ask around. Will spend a chip to succeed as needed.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:42, Tue 30 Oct 2012.

The nearest hotel, the Grand Central, is several blocks down from the saloons. Most of the people in the street, however, don't pay Jack a second look. Instead, they turn and watch the long procession of weary soldiers that have just arrived.

Hundreds of soldiers march down main street, heading directly for the same hotel that Jack spied. Heading up to the door, he sees that an advance detachment of soldiers has already arrived, and are waving people away. One of the soldiers gives Jack a bored look as he does the same.

From inside the building, Jack can hear a spirited argument.

"But you can't do this!"

"I can, and I have, madam. This hotel will now host, solely and exclusively, the Union Army, until such a time as the situation with the Sioux has been stabilized. Rest assured, you will be well compensated for our use of your establishment."

"But what about my other guests, Mr. Goldilocks? What am I to tell them?"

"I really could care less. That's your job. Mine is to prepare this town for the inevitable conflict between the army and the thousands of heathen savages poised to wipe this town from the map. Figure out something to say, and refund their money. The Union Army will compensate you for the lost revenue."

"I'm sorry, sir." The soldier at the door to the hotel says. "You can't go in. You'll have to find another place to stay."

But the troops are moving toward every single hotel visible on the street, and the chance of finding a room is growing more remote by the minute.

((OOC: Yes, you'll need to spend a chip on that...3 is a failure.))
This message was last edited by the player at 06:28, Tue 30 Oct 2012.

Jack nodded at the soldier's words and then took off his hat and shook his head as he spoke with his young companion.

"Well that was rather inopportune. We best head over and get that supper before they commandier all the pork chops."

Heading back down to Nuttal's Jack went inside and found a table and ordered supper for himself and Jeb. As he ordered he did what he could to gain his host's confidence long enough to ask a few questions about Charley Bull.

"Just into town and the army has taken over all the hotels. A friend of mine mentioned that he knows a fella who lives here abouts. The fella's name is Charley Bull. You don't happen to know him do you?"

Spend the chip.

Nuttall & Mann's no. 10 Saloon is a lot like other saloons Jack's been in over the course of his travels...cramped, a bit on the dark side, and crowded.

The oddest thing about the place is a roped-off area in the middle of the floor. A circular curtain has been hung around what surely must be prime seating space, and a there's a sign in fading yellow leaf hanging from it:



The ropes and curtain look a little dusty from disuse.

The order is placed, and Jack asks his questions, but it doesn't seem like most of the folk in the bar know anything about a "Carley Bull."

But one of the drunks, a plain brown-haired woman in a dusty shirt and dungarees wearing a bowler hat with an eagle feather stuffed into the band, looks at Jack bleary-eyed. "Yeah, I know Charley Fuckin' Bull," She slurs as she takes a slug from her half-empty bottle of rotgut. "What the fuck is it to you? You ain't after his fuckin' scalp, is ya?"

((OOC: Red or white chip? If you spend the white, you get a reroll. If you spend a Red Chip, you can add 1d6 to the highest die you rolled. Doing so will give you an automatic success (since it bumps your total to 4 no matter what the roll is) and you can check to see if you got a Raise.))

00:22, Today: Black Jack Boudreaux rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1.

"My name is Jack, Jack Boudreaux. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.

As for your query, of course not madam." Jack said tipping his hat.

"As you can see I am not in need of a scalp. Mr. Bull is a friend of a friend. I was hoping he might be able to aid my associate and I in locating a place to lay our heads. Perhaps you have not noticed but the army has arrived here in Deadwood, and has occupied all the hotels."

"Perhaps you might be able to direct us to Charley."


00:30, Today: Black Jack Boudreaux rolled 5,3 using 1d6,1d10, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3. Persuasion.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:35, Tue 30 Oct 2012.

The woman smiles. "Well, ain't you just the fanciest talker around here?" She says, and shakes his hand. "Charmed to make yer fuckin' acquaintance as well, mister. I'm Jane. Some folk call me Calamity Jane, on account o' I get in trouble a lot." She takes a deep pull of her whiskey before she continues.

"And if you ain't lookin' fer ol Charley Bull's scalp, then I reckon I got no beef with you. But as fer leadin' you to him, well, I dunno about that. Bald Don do want his scalp, and so Charley done made hisself mighty scare round these fuckin' parts."

She screws up her face. "The army's in town? What, did Custer finally find his balls? Well, shit. That's just gonna make Ol' Charley even more hard ta find. Not impossible, you understand, but difficult. I reckon I might be able to help ya...but I got a little bit o' a problem my own self that I'm workin' on."

"Oh, lordy." the barkeep mutters. "There she goes again...listen, mister, you might be better served askin' someone else...I'm afraid Miss Canary might just lead you on one of her wild goose chases."

"Go fuck yourself, Tom Nuttal! I told ya! I told ya he'd be fuckin' back! And now he is, oh yes indeed, and Jack McCall's gonna fuckin' die fer showin' his face back here again!"

"Miss Canary, you are drunk. Go sleep it off." The barkeep says. "You shouldn't oughta listen to her. She's always a bit rambley when she's had too much."

Nate watches Jack head off to the hotel and notes the soldierly procession.  He manages to catch the idea without having to go all the way to the hotel to be disappointed.  Instead he looks betweenthe Bella Union and the Gem and tries to guess which might be the favored spit of one Charlie Bull.....   He wishes it were the Bella, so it must be the Gem.  Ah well, needs must, "C'mon, Professor.  And watch your wallet...."  the prospector then heads into the Gem to see what he can suss out...  Whiskies would be ordered, conversations eavesdropped, a few bland questions asked.  Just another prospector off the streets who might be lookin' for Charlie Bull.  Yep.

OOC - Streetwise - 4.
08:04, Today: Nate Williams rolled 2,4 using D4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,4. Streetwise.



This message was last edited by the player at 12:06, Tue 30 Oct 2012.

"Lead the way, Nate." The Professor follows the young prospector over to the Gem patting at his coat pockets to make sure that his money is indeed still safe and secure.

some mood music

The Gem is one of those quaint little joints that doesn't hide what it is: an establishment designed, built, and operated to part men from their cash in the most efficient and entertaining manner possible.

Nate and Professor step into the saloon, and immediately their senses are assaulted by the stench of spilled whiskey, unwashed bodies, and a sickly sweet smell of poorly-cleaned vomit. There's women with plastered-on smiles and hollow eyes dancing on the stage to the tune of a poorly-tuned player piano, but it's clear they're only showing off the merchandise, given how little they're wearing.

Rough-looking men watch the doors and exits, ready to break up any fights caused the jubilation of the inebriated and horny, and while the Professor's fancy clothes merit several curious glances, no one really seems to care enough to make any sort of remark.

Nate finds that to get anywhere in this joint, he has to spend cash to loosen lips, and eats through a dollar and a half buying booze for the drunken sots around him before someone mentions that Dan Doherty, the barkeep, might be able to help him best.

Dan turns out to be a lean man with a close-cropped mustache and long hair, dressed in a Stetson and cowboy gear. He has the air of a dangerous man to cross, and Nate's questions about Charley Bull get him to raise an eyebrow.

"You with the DMA?" he asks. "I didn't see a badge."

"I guess someone named Bald Don might be looking for a hair peice." Jack had interjected with smile.


Once the the proprieter had interrupted, Boudreaux assumed the Jane might take his advice and hoped to learn more first. "Well let me express my gratitude for your assistance."

"Hopefully one of you could point my friend and I in the right direction. As I said I can assure you I have no interest in seeing any harm coming to the man."

"By the way these pork chops would do my mama proud." jack added flattering the man.

In reply to Black Jack Boudreaux (msg # 28):

"You don't the fuckin' half of it, Mister Jack." Jane says. "They call him 'Bald Don' on account o' him gettin' scalped by the Sioux during the massacre o' '75, and ever since then he been lookin' to return the favor to as many Injuns as he can get away with. Nasty, nasty man. And when the Injuns attacked them miners a few weeks ago, well, Bald Don done declared open season on all the Sioux in Deadwood. He can't attack Ravenclaw at the Office o' Minin' Affairs without causin' a ruckus, but any other Injun, Nigger, or Spick that catches his eye is in trouble. That means you might catch his ire, so you oughta watch yourself."

"If you want me to help ya find Charley, well, I can oblige ya, but I got a problem o' my own." She takes a swig from her bottle. "So how 'bout this? You give me some help, and I'll help you out. Sound good?"

At Jack's compliment, The barkeep smiles. "Well thank you, sir! I'll be sure to let the cook know his talents are appreciated." he gives Jane a pointed look, as if this was the tale end of some old argument.

"Yeah, and I sure hope that piggy didn't eat anyone I knew before it got to yer plate." Jane says darkly.

Jack nodded. It seemed Jane was prepared to aid them, but like most folks she wanted something in return. Jack was used to bargaining for favors

"Who would I be to deny a lady in distress, I would be happy to aid you in solving whatever dilemma you might face."  Boudreaux said with a gallant smile. As much as he hated it he was not one to deny a lady in distress.

"Shall we proceed now?" Jack asked.

"I ain't no fuckin' lady." Jane says. But she smiles nonetheless.

"You're gonna regret it!" The barkeep says.

"Get fucked!" Jane shouts at him, then nods to the door. "Reckon we oughta go somewhere where there ain't no cocksuckin' cunts," she glares at the barrkeep, "tryin' to butt in on our business."

Jack had to admit he was also none to happy that the proprietor seemed to feel it his place to intrude, but what could be expected of such pedestrian venue.

"It might be better if we did retire to some place more private." Luckily Jack had managed to polish off his supper, though truth be told after all that time in that accursed stagecoach he could have done with seconds.

Jane leads Jack and Zach out the back into the alley.

"Right. Now that we're away from pryin' ears, let me just say that that sign Nuttal's got on that curtain in there is dead fuckin' wrong. Jack McCall shot Bill, right enough, but Wild Bill Hickok didn't die." She fumbles with her bottle. "Well, that ain't right...he did die, but he didn't stay dead. He crawled right up out o' his grave, with a big ol' hole in the back o' his head."

She takes a long pull from the bottle, which is now mostly empty. "Jack McCall got away scott free after shootin' him. Scott fuckin' free! His trial was a shame, and everyone knew it. Bill knew it too. He went after the jurors, 'cause he reckoned they got paid off and wanted to know who was doin' the payin'. Jack skipped town when the bodies started pilin' up. Bill done went after him. And now...now Jack McCall is back in town. And I reckon Bill's gonna be back soon, too."

She looks down at the ground. "No one else believes me. No one thinks Bill's back, but Jack does, I'm sure of it. And I need to know what he knows. But Jack McCall is slippery as a fuckin' eel, and he gets to runnin' whenever he done sees me around. Probably thinks I'm plannin' to blow his brains out, and I won't lie when I say I'd be mighty fuckin' tempted. But if he's back, and he's seen Bill, he can tell others I ain't crazy."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:59, Wed 31 Oct 2012.

In reply to Dan Doherty (msg # 27):

Nate shook his head as he patted his pockets fir effect, "Nope.  Not yet anyhow."  Looking back up again to the bartender, he added, by way of polite interest, "Probably should make it my next stop, eh?  This whole army-marching-down-the-street thing got me a bit turned around.  Was told Bull might be able to help me find a place, since the Army seems to be takin' most everything."

So far the young reporter had held his tongue content to let the older man lead the way. It had been a long time since he had been in a town the size of Deadwood, and he was pleased to feel a certain comfort in the pace and rhythm of town life.  He looked around the alley, well he had done business in worse places, was sure Jack had as well.

"Ms. Canary, you mind if I write some of this down? he asked politely. His eager eyes, waited for her approval before he took out his trusty notebook.

He listened to her story and Zach looked over to Jack, "So you want us to find Jack, see if he's seen Bill." The young man paused and stared at the cowgirl, "Ma'am, you don't seem like the kind of woman you gives one hoot what folks think of you. So, why you really looking for Bill?"

Jack figured that the mysterious tale would draw Zachary into the conversation. His friend had not let him down. When his friend started taking notes jack prepared to step in and smooth out any ruffled feathers but hoped the young reporter could handle that himself.

The Professor stood back and let Nate handle the discussion with Dan Doherty. He glanced around the room, alert for the possibility of trouble, given the desperate look of most of the patrons (and staff) of the establishment.

In reply to Nate Williams (msg # 34):

"If you plan on minin' in Deadwood, it might be a good idea." Dan says. "Things happen to those that don't sign up with the Deadwood Miners Alliance. Bad things. Take that incident that sent the Army running here. A dozen miners working an illegal claim get scalped and strung up on poles. Now, between you, me, and the wall, that's hardly fair, given that there's dozens of mines bein' worked like that in these hills. Hell, some folk claim Kang's got a whole city o' Chinamen digging beneath a hill south o' here, and he's building tunnel like Wasatch done through the Rockies to link his city with Deadwood. But the Sioux just happen to strike an illegal mine that didn't pay it's dues to the DMA? Mighty suspicious, that."

He pours Nate another shot. "As for Charley Bull, well, I heard he's skedaddled, given Bald Don wants to make a toupee with real Injun hair, if you catch my meaning. He still comes round...he's a theater lover, and the Langrishe Theater's been showin' Shakespeare. The next show is in three days. But I tell you what, if you want to rent a room Al Swearengen, the owner of this joint, might be able to pull a few strings. I can arrange a meeting for you, if you'd like."

((OOC: Professor, since you're the lookout, make a Notice check.))

In reply to Zachary O'Conner (msg # 35):

"I don't mind you writin'." Jane says. "Just make sure it gets to the right folk. Merrick at the Pioneer ain't done a whole lot o' printin' lately, and he wouldn't believe you anyhow."

"No, I want you to find McCall and haul his ass to me, and I'll ask him personal-like what he's seen." Jane growls. "He and I have unfinished business. And yeah, normally you'd be right about me not carin' a flying fuck about what people think...I done told some whoppers in my day, right enough. But this here is real." Her eyes well up with tears. "This here is real. I ain't lyin'. And it kills me to have this weight bearin' on me, to know somethin' true and have no one believe ya. Because I think somethin' bad's gonna happen."

She pauses, and takes a deep breath. "Bill...he ain't hisself. When he crawled out o' his grave, it's like Jack blew out some part of his better nature, and he had to struggle to keep control o' his darker half. If he's lost control, if the darkness in him won...well, blood is gonna get shed. If you've heard any o' the stories about Wild Bill Hickock, you know he's a dangerous man. Imaginin' that man without morals or any sense o' compassion to restrain him..." She lets the thought linger as she takes another pull from her bottle and wipes her eyes.

Jack listened. The lady's tale was not too much a surprise to someone from N'Orleans, but the idea that Wild Bill Hickock was still walking the earth was surpising. Even a tenderfoot like Jack knew the name Will Bill, and the legends that made the man famous. He had also read of how Will Bill had been slain.

"We beleive you Jane. I am sorry to hear about Wild Bill. We will do what we can to find McCall."

"Now what about Charley Buck. You have any news of him?"

In reply to Black Jack Boudreaux (msg # 40):

"Well, I appreciate your help. I've seen McCall at the Gem some nights, and he's also been baking his brain at an opium joint and brothel called the Cathouse. I ain't welcome at either fuckin' location. Be warned about the Cathouse, though...a little bird told me the Madam there ain't what she seems, and she and Mollie Johnson have a bit of a feud goin' that liable to turn ugly soon. As for the Gem, well...you know how your meal was so fine? It's cause Deadwood's pork gits fed the bodies of them as cross Al Swearengen. I hear tell it brings a sort o' zest to the meat, but I stay well away from pork and bacon these days, so I couldn't really say."

"As for Ol' Charley, well, I know he likes the theater, and there's a couple o' them hereabouts. Nye's Opera House is the fancier o' the two, but the Langrishe is cheaper. I couldn't tell you what's playin' or when, but he might risk comin' to town for a show. He's also got a cabin out in the woods. The Sioux don't bother him, on account o' he's one o' them, but the DMA knows where it is and might be stakin' the place out, so he might have gone native and in hidin'. I done tracked Indians before, so I can help you find where he's got to if'n that's what your keen to do."

As The Professor scans the room for trouble, trying to keep ears peeled and eyes open, he finds himself continually distracted by a man pounding something on to a message board nearby. The infernal pounding keeps interrupting the Professor's thoughts, breaking his concentration, and in general causing immense irritation...

The Professor makes his way over to the message board commenting to the man, "I do not think that piece of paper will be going anywhere anytime soon. Congratulations on successfully attaching it to the board.  You can stop that incessant hammering now, if you would be so kind."

The man in the fedora and duster looks up from his labors, a bit startled. "Oh! I'm sorry, sir." He says, in an accent The Professor recognizes. He's Welsh! Quite a long way from home. "I had permission from the man at the bar to post these. I didn't mean to disturb any of the patrons."

He holds up a poster:



"Are you new in town? Have you seen this girl out on the trail, perhaps? She may have been in disguise."

The face on the poster reminds The Professor quite a lot of young Li the chinaman...

"A Chinese woman?" The Professor asked rhetorically. The face on the wanted poster was clearly that of Li's, now that The Professor thought about it.  Evidently the young woman had been masquerading as a youthful boy.

"What did she steal? And I must say, it would be quite a feat for a young woman to disguise herself as either an elderly woman or a man."

"Yeah." The man nods. "The local sheriff won't do a thing. Says it's not important. But she stole a satchel containing funds for the railroad, as well as some important documents and an old family heirloom from Huang Li, a very important pillar of the Celestial community."

He shrugs. "Not so very difficult as you'd think. The girl is described as being slight, and has some acting skills. The right movements and the strategic placement of some socks could fool a cursory glance."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:11, Fri 02 Nov 2012.

Jack nodded, if nothing else Jane besides being a calamity seemed to know what was going on around Deadwood.

"Well sounds like we know where to find McCall. Where are we going to find you once we got him? We also need a place to lay are heads you know a spot?" Boudreaux asked the two questions in a row.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:25, Fri 02 Nov 2012.

"Oh, I'll be around, I reckon." Jane says. "But if you get him, I reckon you can bring him to Doc Cochran's place, down on Broadway and Lee. Same block as the Big Horn store." She takes a swig from her bottle. "Well, I rent a tent out in the tent city I'd be willin' to share for a day or two...it ain't big and I don't have extra bed rolls, though, so you'd have to get your own. Of course, if you're gonna crash there fer long, I wouldn't mind a bit o' help with that rent, if'n you catch my drift."

In reply to Dan Doherty (msg # 38):

At the mention of the miner massacre and the "coincidence" of their non-Association status, Nate looked very concerned.  Maybe even a little scared.  Talk like that was liable to unnerve most anyone.  Especially a wannabe-prospector dreaming of ghost rock fortunes.  He managed a faint nod to Dan's suspicions, but kept listening.   Possibly three days to find Bull.  Nate looked downright dejected now, but then came Dan's offer.  A bit of smile came back, "You think?  I mean....  I don't have alot of money....  /Yet/.  And, if I gotta wait a few day to find Mr. Bull....  You think Mr. Swearingen'd really help me out?  That'd be neighborly.  And here I heard Deadwood wasn't a real neighborly place.."  A glance let him notice the missing Professor, another to spot the very distinctive fellow across the room.  Then, he looked bsk to Dan, shaking his head a bit in concern.

Zac listened to Jane's answer, he believed her, or at least he believed she was sincere in her concern for Wild Bill. At the mention of Aunt Molly, his ears perked up. The mention of the pork chops made the boy sick to his stomach, and he appreciated Jack's lack of concern.

"I'm sorry for your lose, Ms. Canary, like Jack said, we'll help you find McCall...."

In reply to Nate Williams (msg # 49):

"Well, here's the facts of life around Deadwood...you're gonna need money to make money." Dan says. "It costs $100 to be registered as a prospector, and $200 dollars to stake your claim. Getting it assayed will cost you 5% of the load's cash worth, and actually running the mine will cost you $50 a month. If the Sioux come up on you, and find your paperwork ain't all in order, they'll drag you back to Deadwood. Without any of the equipment you may have purchased. If you put up a fight, they'll kill you and add your body to the Pole Men that line the trail."

"But the Sioux can't be everywhere, and most miners can't afford those costs until they actually strike a claim. So they turn to the Deadwood Miner's Alliance for help. The DMA patrols the mines of it's members, even the illegal ones. Each member is supposed to give a day a month to patrol duty, though there are some full-time militia men who've quite mining and gone patrolling full-time. They've pretty much become Deadwood's main militia. Getting square with them is probably a good idea--if your intent is to make money from digging at the earth."

"But there are some easier ways to make money. If you want to make a grubstake, well, Mr. Swearengen pays pretty well, and I understand he's got a few jobs that need doin'. You scratch his back, and I'm sure he'll scratch yours. Want me to set up a meeting?"

In reply to Zachary O'Conner (msg # 50):

It occurs to Zach that is Aunt Molly is in town, she might be willing to let him and his friends stay with her. It would be a bit more comfortable than sleeping in a tent, at any rate...

"We appreciate the offer of a place to bunk ma'am, but I have some family in town, and I'm like to stay with them. My father just passed, and well, it'll be nice to see some family." Zac didn't like to share details of his life, but he also knew that a good reporter created a connection with his subjects. What he said, and his feeling bout it were true enough, even if he hadn't considered them to this point, if they help Ms. Canary to open up a little, then all the all the better.

He looked to Jack, "Think we've taken enough of your time, ma'am. We best be getting on with finding Mr McCall for you."

"Yes Mamm, best we get to it." Jack said.

"I may end up taking you up on a place to catch some sleep." Boudreaux said unsure if Zach's family would take kindly to colored man staying with them. Perhaps if they had a barn. But nither Zach nor his father had ever shown him anything but friendship, so perhaps their family was cut from the same cloth.

With that jack topped his hat "Till we meet again."

"It was a pleasure meetin' ya, and I'll be waitin'." Jane says. She begins weaving her way down the alley.

((OOC: Now where? To Zach's aunt's place? Or were you going to try to catch McCall at one of the place mentioned?))

As they walked off Jack looked at Zach.

"Best we stop by your family's place and drop off your things and you get get a chance to say hello. But then we should see if we can find McCall. I want to stop in and see a fella named Nate Love. I hear he might be helpful to my kind and he might be able to give us some information on McCall as well as what happened to your father."

Zach wore a big smile as he thought of seeing Aunt Molly, family had taken on a different kind of meaning since he father passed. And, while it would be hard for the teenager to admit, what he really wanted was nothing more than a hug. "That sounds bout right... She was an odd one huh, all strong and soft and twisted up. You think she's gonna kill McCall when we bring him to her?"

At the mention of his father's death, Zach stiffened slightly. It was easier to think his father had just died like normal people, not that he had been killed as part of some... what? Conspiracy? Zach wasn't sure of the word, but he knew it made him feel like a little kid. As they walked along towards Molly's he tried to focus himself, by doing what he did best, ask questions, "Who is Nate Love? What do you mean... 'my kind'? Colored? Or something else Jack?"

"Handsome .. that is what I meant by my kind." Boudreaux said with a smile. It was pretty clear from Jack's joke he meant colored as Zach had guessed.

"Bass told me Nate Love is in Deadwood and that looks out fer the coloreds in town. He said we could find him at The Wooly Buffalo." Boudreaux said to clear up any confusion.

As the two are discussing things, a gaudy carriage rolls past them, windows up.

A pretty blonde lady looks out at them, sees them, then excitedly calls out to the driver, "Stop! Stop the carriage!"

The driver sighs and does so, and the lady leans out. "Yoo hoooooooo!" She calls. "Zach? Bless my soul, Zach O'Conner is that you?"

Zach recognizes her, though it's been a while...it's Aunt Mollie!
This message was last edited by the player at 05:10, Sun 04 Nov 2012.

Black Jack Boudreaux, is for one of the few times in his life, speechless. He tried not to stare as he stared at his friend's aunt.

Nate's eyes widen as Dan lays out all the heavy costs of mining inn Deadwood.  At first, he didn't seem too surprised, but hen more and more threats and numbers kept coming.  Almost enough to kill the dream of ghost rock millionaire-hood.  Almost.   That ghost rock fever is a long burning one, metaphorially speaking for the moment.  Hard to put out.  Finally, he just nods, "Sure...   That sounds good.   But, why'd he want to invest in me?  I mean...  He dosn't even know me?"

The young reporter laughed at Jack's joke, he was about to say something else, when he saw the carriage and then his Aunt Molly appeared. Catching sight of the blond woman, Zach raced to her, "Aunt Molly," he yells, for the moment losing his teenage cool, and appearing more like a boy than an adult. A huge smile crossed his face.  "We were just coming to see you, oh, wait till I tell you about the adventures we've had. Of course, you can just read it in the paper as soon as I get the story wired in." His words ran together, a flurry of excitement and nervous energy.

He looked back over his shoulder at the staring Jack, waving him enthusiastically forward, "Oh this is my friend, Jack, Jack Bourdeaux. He helped father and me back in New Orleans, and then he was on the same stage to Deadwood...," the teenager grew quiet, as the thought of his father drew his mind back to happier times, traveling the country together.

Jack having regained his composure made his way toward the striking lady. Tipping his hat and offering a slight bow the young Cajun introduced himself.

"Madam I am Jack Boudreaux, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." I the lady extend her hand, Jack bent to kiss it and added "Enchante."

In reply to Nate Williams (msg # 61):

Dan laughs. "Oh, I ain't for sure yet that he'll want to invest in you...you'll have to meet with him and see what you can arrange. But I know that mining's not where the money's at in this town."

In reply to Zachary O'Conner (msg # 62):

"oooo, a gentleman of color!" Mollie laughs delightedly as Jack kisses her hand. "And such a gentleman, too! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jack."

A shadow passes over her otherwise fair face. "Yes...poor Mitch. He will be sorely missed. The world will not see his like again, except perhaps in you, Zach."

"Driver!" She calls. "Please return us to the High Time!"

"Of course, madam." The driver says, and the carriage jolts back to motion.

Mollie sighs. "Ten dollars a ride and they can't be bothered to improve the shocks on these things. Ah, the price one pays to look fabulous! Well, now that you've found me, you simply must tell me all that's happened since we last met!"

In reply to Dan Doherty (msg # 64):

Nate laughs a bit too, though not because he gets the joke, but just to not be left out.  Though that comment does seem to cause confusion, "Mining's not where the money's at in...../Deadwood/?  I thought....   Well....   Isn't that why its here?  I bet all them soldiers would agree that the mining and prospecting is important...."  A thumb is cocked back towards the street currently containing the blue tide of Army regulars.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:00, Mon 05 Nov 2012.

Zachary and Madam Mollie might have noticed Jack blushing if not for his dark skin.

"You will find no argument from me, Zachary's father was a fine man. In addition, I can say having known them both I am certain that he would be proud of his son. I just wish he was just here to see him now."

In reply to Nate Williams (msg # 66):

"You're a bit late to the party to be making a real fortune off mining and prospecting, friend. Between the fees, the Sioux, the DMA, and supplies costing an arm and a leg and always seeming to wear out just as soon as you strike something, well, most folk only get enough to head to the saloons and cathouses and live it up for a bit before slogging back into the muck. Sure, some of the mines have plenty of gold or ghost rock going for them, but most of the best claims are already taken by the members of the DMA or by Kangers working for Iron Dragon on the sly. And miners ain't known to be all that thrifty once they DO get a strike...why, this place alone makes $5,000 on a bad night. Think about that. Five. Thousand. Dollars. On a bad night. Sure, the army's here, but it's the fundament being pulled out that's the important bit, not the miners doing the pulling."

The Professor shrugged at Maddox. "Well, if I do encounter her, I will be sure to question her and take the appropriate action."

He didn't share with Maddox that the most appropriate action would be to do nothing.  Li had proven herself a loyal ally, and The Professor was certain that either the crimes against her were fabricated, or she had a good reason for what she did.

In reply to The Professor (msg # 69):

"Appropriate action, is it?" The gunslinger says. "Well, that being the case, I'm sure you'd be willing to join the posse I'm organizing by yir, yes?"

"Unfortunately, my companion and I have some pressing business in Deadwood. I also assume that to be in a posse, one would need access to a horse and a firearm neither of which I have I'm afraid. If I do spot the woman around town I will be certain to alert you, however.

"Fair 'nough." The gunslinger says. "If you do see 'er and want to contact me, ask around for Maddox, eh? I'm personal more concerned about retrieving the stolen goods than turning her over to the Celestials, mind. Well, good day."

He saunters out of the Gem, to leave the Professor alone with his thoughts.

Now it was Zach's turn to blush at Jack's words, "Me, too..." he said quietly. His smile returned quick enough, as he pondered Aunt Mollie's question. "I'm not sure where to start. Well we took the stage in and were ambushed by the outlaw Sam Bass. They had us holed up in the carriage, till a preacher named Moses, well, he showed him the power of god alright. Old Sam turned out to be a lost soul, think Jack mighta helped save that man's ever immortal."

"That was bout as normal as things got. We ran into some Indians and a Chinese boy and then went with 'em to help their tribe. We saw the Black cavalry riding, came within a hair's breath of trouble, but made out alright. Jack's a blood bother now, and we're looking for a man named Charlie Bull. 'Course we traded Calamity Jane Canary for some information, and now we're looking for a man named McCall all on account of him killing Wild Bill, and Wild Bill rising from the grave as some sort of vengeful spirit. Then we ran into you."  Zach took a breath, to gauge Mollie's reaction.

"That's the non paper version, I'd need to look at my notes to recollect more if you're curious bout the details, but that aught to give you the broad strokes. Jack did I miss anything?" The teenager was bubbling over with excitement.

At first Jack was surprised that Zach had said so much, but then it was Jack and he was always spreading the news.

"No Zach I think you said plenty." Boudreaux smiled slyly.

"Sorry to trouble you with all this Miss Molly." Jack said.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:25, Tue 06 Nov 2012.

Mollie looks a little taken aback by all that.  "Oh dear...you have been busy." She manages. "Though you ought not believe much of what comes out of Calamity Jane's mouth...the only spirits she's been seeing are the ones from the bottom of a bottle or from the delirium tremens, poor thing, so you mustn't put much stock in that nonsense about Wild Bill's ghost. "

"Though I did hear McCall is back in town...can't think why, but he normally goes north of the tracks to those nasty opium dens in Celestial Alley. I heard he got tossed out of the Bella Union a couple nights ago after insulting a lady fancied by Mr. Sebastian, who's a regular at the High Time. If you're serious about finding McCall, you might want to get in touch with him, though I'd appreciate it if you kept my name out of it."

"Who is this Charlie Bull you're looking for, if I may ask?"

In reply to Dan Doherty (msg # 68):

Nate now just looks defeated at the flood of information he's been handed regarding the realities of the prospectinng trade.  His eyes widen appreciatively at the notion of a buisness pulling in five thousand dollars in a night.   A figure so astounding as to border on the mythological.  Shaking his head to get his thought train back on the tracks, "Well...  That does give me a lot to think on, Mister.  A /lot/."  Which is quite the understatement for aving your dreams smashed to tiny pieces.

In reply to Nate Williams (msg # 76):

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, friend." Dan says as he wipes down a shot glass. "But there's plenty of opportunities for the clever and brave here. You just have to be open to them."

"Well thank you for the enlightening us on Deadwood and McCall. As far as Charley Bull, he is an Injun and a friend of a friend."

"As for our inquires, we shall show the upmost discretion in keeping your name out of it and your reputation from being sullied." Boudreaux said.

Nate nods weakly to the bartender's notions of other opportunities, "Well, thank you anyhow.  Maybe....  Maybe I should go have more a look around...  Not that I don't believe you...  I just came all this way and..."  Trailing off, the once starry-eyed prospector adds, "When should I think about coming back to talk with Mr. Swearingen?"

"Oh, I understand wanting to get a second opinion. But trust me. I've seen plenty of broken-down miners piss away their meager haul here for a drink and a piece of tail. If you're set to look about town, how about you meet me back here at sundown?"

In reply to Black Jack Boudreaux (msg # 78):

"Ah. Then you might be out of luck...there haven't been a lot of Indians around town lately, not after that awful attack a couple weeks ago. Why, there have been beatings, harassment...even a lynching! Marshal Bullock broke that up and saved the poor Indian's life, bless him, but the only Indian I know of still around is Joseph Bearclaw at the Office of Mining Affairs, and that's because everyone's afraid he'd shut the mines down if anyone caused him trouble."

Nate just nods weakly, "Sundown.  I'll be here.  Um....  Thanks, Mister." Pushing up from the bar, he adjusts his pack of now likely useless gear and gives the place a good look over.  Hopefully catching the Professor's attention, the almost prospector begins heading wearily for the door and back out onto the street.

The young reporter considered what his Aunt had said about Ms. Canary, whether she was right or not, she believed that Wild Bill was back, she hadn't been lying about that. After all he had seen on this journey west, who was Zach to say it wasn't true? Belief did not making something any truer, nor did disbelief make it false.

He smiled, a sweet and bitter smile. Here with Aunt Mollie and Jack he felt a sense of being home. But he knew he still had work to do. They had made a promise to the Indians, and he had made a promise to uncover his father's murderer. "Aunt Mollie, we were hoping we could stay with you while we investigated the story, we won't be any bother...." He could have added that he wanted that taste of home, that it was more about the feeling than the roof, but that was all too much for his young mind to process let alone voice.

As he noticed Nate head out of the saloon, The Professor followed.  Once outside he asked, "Shall we meet up with our associates and compare notes?"

Boudreaux was hopeful that Zachary's aunt was the hospitable type.

"Why, of course I can put you and your charming friend up for a couple of days!" Mollie beams. "It would be my pleasure!"

The coach crosses the bridge and pulls up to a building proclaiming itself the "High Time Saloon."

"We're here, ma'am." The driver says.

"Oh, excellent!" Mollie giggles. "You simply must come in and meet the girls!"

Nate nodded faintly to the Professor as they headed down the boardwalk, but didn't say much till they were away from the Gem.  "I didn't find out much, just that we might find our friend at the show three days fom now....   Which doesn't much help us now."  He cast an eye at the passing soldiery and sighed.  The boy seemed downright beat.  "Did tell me that prospecting was a bit more...um...  Difficult to get started in than I had thought....  Need to stop at a shop he recommended.  Make some more inquiries...maybe see what I can get in trade....   Meet up with you and the others at Mr. O'Conner's aunt's place..."

OOC - I know it was previously mentioned, but we did talk about meeting back so....  I fudged it.  Will edit out if needed!
This message was last edited by the player at 03:53, Tue 13 Nov 2012.

Jack smiles at the complement. This was not quite who he had in mind when Zachary said he had an aunt in Deadwood.

When the carriage came to a stop in front of the saloon and Boudreaux saw the girls on the balcony out side, an expression of satisfaction appeared on his face.

"Why, I must say, I feel at home already."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:34, Wed 14 Nov 2012.

He patted the young man on his shoulder. "Chin up son. You have other things to worry about aside from a life of prospecting." He winked at Nate before setting off down the main road, in the direction of the High Times Saloon.

"You have to help save the world, " he called back at Nate. The Professor flashed the man a friendly smile as he turned and walked off.

Somehow, that heroic thought only manages to bring a wan smile back to the downtrodden prospector, "Right.  Save the world.  I get the feeling that doesn't pay well either...."  With that, Nate heads off up the crowded street towards the Black Hills Miner's Supply.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:31, Tue 13 Nov 2012.

Zach's heart fluttered at the word girls, and his teenage body filled with a sense of excitement and terror and his cheeks flushed. In the joy of his reunion with Aunt Mollie, he had forgotten the ritual of meeting the girls. Despite the fact that some were hardly older than he was, and certainly no more worldly, and without a doubt less travelled, he always felt less a man and more a boy walking into her business.

He smiled absently at Jack's comment and felt genuinely relieved that Aunt Mollie had been so kind to his friend, and like it or not, her house was the closest thing he had to a home, and she was the closest he had to family. The sixteen year old reporter took a breath, as he stepped out of the carriage and into his Aunt's world.

Trying to hide his own insecurity in the face of the girls, he straightened himself up, and put on his reporter's friendly, if unreadable smile.

The High Time Saloon is a wooden edifice just past the bridge next to the empire bakery. The smell of fresh-baked bread mingles with the perfume and whiskey exuded by the structure.

The girls swarm around Black Jack and Zach as Mollie leads them into the saloon. Mollie is known around town as "The Queen of the Blondes," and as Zach and Jack make their way through the gaggle of girls it's clear why.

"Ooooo!" Ida squeals, lunging on Zach and practically burying him in her ample bosom. "You're back! It's been so awfully long, Zachery!"

The other Ida sidles up to Black Jack and presses against him. "Who are you, stranger? looking for a good time?"

"Girls! Girls!" Mollie laughs, clapping her hands to get their attention. "Please! Give the boys some room! They are going to be our guests here for a couple days, so mind your manners." She leads the pair upstairs, shooing off the other girls who've come to see what all the commotion is about.

"I'm afraid I only have one room open for guests." She says. "The rest are rented by the girls. I can have an extra cot brought up, if you like." She opens the door to the room, which is fairly small but well-appointed. She leaves the pair to settle themselves in, and heads back downstairs to tend to the band of soldiers that just walked through the door.

By the time The Professor reaches the High Time Saloon, the place is packed. A group of soldiers are watching girls dance on the stage, while beer and whiskey flow freely. A well-dressed woman with blonde hair and a winsome smile greets him at the door. "Hello, sir! Welcome to the High Time! I'm Madam Mollie. What's your pleasure today?"

Jack walked into the High Time Saloon like a kid at a candy shop. So many pretty ladies. "Moses was right, the Lord he does surely work in mysterious ways." Boudreaux said quietly to Zach.

Offering a charming smile to all the ladies, Jack doffed his hat and offered a slight bow. "Black Jack Boudreaux at service ladies."

Heading up stirs and seeing the room, Jack smiled "Thank you Miss Mollie. I am sure we can manage. Zach and I just spent days sleeping on each other's shoulders the room will seem like the Taj Mahal."

"You are exceptionally kind."

The Professor tipped his hat to Mollie, "Evening Madame." he replied without any hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm looking for an associate of mine. A young lad, Mister Zachary O'Connor. We were to meet at his Aunt's establishment, and I was told that this is indeed the place." He looked about the crowded room, trying to see if Zach was somewhere close by.

Mollie has the cot brought up and leaves Jack and Zach to get settled.

Downstairs, Mollie smiles at The Professor. "I might know a young man by that name. If I happen to see him, whom should I say was looking for him, and what would your business with him be?"

"A toast!" One of the soldiers in the busy saloon shouts, raising his glass to the rest of his fellows. "To the end of the rule of the godless dirt worshipers who've oppressed our white brethren for far too long! Death to the Sioux! Long live the USA!"

"HEAR! HEAR!" The soldiers cheer. The girls join in, though somewhat less enthusiastically.

Madam Mollie's smile fades for just an instant, and the Professor notices a twitch at the corner of her eye, but the mask of pleasant politeness returns in an instant.

As the soldiers cheer, The Professor stays silent, shaking his head slightly in quiet disapproval. When the cheering dies down he replies to Madame Mollie. "I am The Professor. A pleasure to make your acquaintance my dear. I and a few others are travelling with Zachary. We arrived in town earlier today and we were to rendezvous here this evening to arrange accommodations."

In reply to The Professor (msg # 96):

"Well, Professor, it's surely nice to meet you." Mollie says with a smile, but it looks a little strained. "However..Zach didn't mention he'd have more friends along with him, other than the handsome negro he was with. I'm afraid I don't have that much space to let...most of our clients aren't interested in long-term stays, if you catch my meaning. And with all these soldiers about, well, that just makes space even tighter. I'm sure you understand."

Jack looked at his young friend "Well no use sitting around in here. Let's go down and get a drink and then we can see what we can turn up looking around town."

Whether Zach accompanied him or not Boudreaux headed down to get a shot of whiskey and perhaps exchange a few pleasantries with Miss Mollie.

Spotting the professor he headed over to so they could catch one another up.

The Professor nodded. "Indeed, I understand. I would be in your debt if you could point me in the direction of an establishment that could in fact put me up for an extended stay. Someplace that the army would be unlikely to commandeer, if such a place even exists."

"Evening Miss Mollie, you are even prettier than I remember." Jack said with humor.

"Evening Professor, I am glad to see you found the place. Quite a bit more charming than I could have imagined." Jack said the last bit offering a glance at Miss Mollie."

"I was going to have a whiskey and then hit the town and see what we might learn." Jack said motioning to the bar/

"Evening Jack. It appears that I need to find a place to stay for the evening first.  There is no room at the inn, as it were."

"I dare say there you could find a room here, but only by the hour." Jack said with a smile once they were out of ear shot of their beautiful hostess.

"We have learned a bit about our friend. It seems there is a strong element in town that does not much care for the Sioux. It may take some doing to find Charlie Bull.

"Oh, such stamina!" Mollie giggles from behind them. "Most men don't last half that." She glides over to the two of them, a mischievous smile on her pretty lips. "I do know of a place that might suit a longer stay, but...well, it's not normally where I'd recommend. But if it's a long-term place you need, Fairchild's Boarding House on Williams and Deadwood has reasonable monthly rates. And it's not likely to be commandeered by the army. But they might have a good reason fro that."

"Well, Jack shall we see about securing a room at this Fairchild's boarding house?"  The Professor seemed oblivious to Madame Mollie's veiled warning about the establishment.

"Good things take time." Black Jack Boudreaux said in his Canjun accented English.

"I had planned on hanging my hat here as long as I am welcome but I imagine Zach and I can see you over to the palce. From the sound of it you might not want to go alone." Jack said looking to Mollie to see if she wished to elaborate.

"Oh, it's not the getting there that's the problem." Mollie says. "It's just...that place is supposed to be haunted. Rumor has it that the original builder of the house went insane, and killed his wife and children before taking a shotgun to his own head. That's how Mrs. Fairchild got the property so cheaply. Since then, the poor dears had such an awful time keeping long-term lodgers. Most folks check out after only a couple nights, complaining about all sorts of odd things...and it's even been said that some folk never checked out at all, they just up and vanished."

"Oh, is that all?" The Professor chuckled. "Thank you for the warning. Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone and discover what nefarious activity is going on. It sounds like someone is trying to drive Miss Fairchild out of business for some reason.  Jack, are you up for a little ghost hunting detective work?"

"I am always ready to help a lady in distress. But I caution you professor, do not take talk of ghosts lightly." Jack said.

Finishing his shot, Jack turned to Madame Mollie, bowed slightly as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Till we meet again." Jack said with a smile.

After depositing his belongings, Zach told Jack to go down, he needed time to organize his notes before heading downstairs. Truth was, he it was always stressful at Aunt Mollie's, sure it was home, but the girls (especially recently) both intrigued and terrified him.  He took a breath in, "You can do this Zach," he said to himself assuredly.

He checked his hair, and he made his way down to the main room. Standing apart, he took in the scenes, from the girls to the drunk soldiers. He found Jack in the crowd, and made his way towards his friend, surprised to see The Professor was with him, "Sorry, I'm late. Professor, good to see you. So should we find Charlie Bull," he added, excited to get going.

"I'm afraid that I have yet to find lodgings, but your Aunt has let us know of a nearby boarding house.  I'd like to get settled in there first, then we can go looking for Mr. Bull."

"Sounds like we have a plan of action. Let us proceed before I succumb to more pleasant distractions." Jack said knowing himself well enough to know what staying around a place like this would lead to if he remained too long.

With a plan of action set, the trio head back into the streets of Deadwood to get the Professor accommodations.

The streets are just as crowded now as they were earlier, though it's late in the afternoon. The military seems to have completely taken control of the city. Everywhere one looks, there are Union soldiers. Patrols of armed soldiers march through the streets, while off-duty troops whoop it up in the bars and gambling dens on Main Street.

Things settle down a little as the trio crosses Main street. Once on Broadway, the more solid wooden buildings give way to a sea of tents. There are still troops here, patrolling the tents, and some of these places seem to be businesses as well as residences...one can spot the odd sign, such as "Miss Kitty's Place" or "McGinnes' Magic Lantern!"

Crossing Broadway, the sea of tents grows larger, and only a single wooden building can be seen...the house on Williams and Deadwood. Fairchild's Boarding House.

Fairchild's Boarding House is large, three-story American Gothic house. A large turret occupies the right corner of the front of the house, and a covered porch runs from the turret around the left. The paint is a dreary gray with shingles to match. A sense of brooding malevolence oozes from the edifice, and its windows almost seem like eyes that glow from within.


This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Wed 28 Nov 2012.

Pausing to regard the Gothic monstrosity, The Professor commented to his companions, "It has seen better days, that's for certain, but I'm sure that the accommodations will be reasonable.  And it's certain to be quiet, given its occult reputation."

The malevolent aura didn't seem to faze The Professor. Perhaps the man was a bit too overconfident in his ability to deal with a possibly haunted house.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Fri 30 Nov 2012.

Jack looked at the place and then at the others. "It reminds me of home .. which might not be a good thing."

Boudreaux thought of N'Orleans and the things he had seen there, the things that had driven him from his home.

Zac made his goodbyes to Aunt Mollie, and followed the two adults through the streets of Deadwood. He eyed the soldiers watching them casually but carefully. As they made their way across broadway, he took in the details of the tents and people let to fend for themselves. It brought a hint of sadness to him, that there was this despair in the world.

The reporter at large, looked at the gothic house with a mixture of curiousness and ambivalence. He smiled at Jack's comment and shrugged his shoulders. The professor didn't believe in magic, and Zac wondered idly if there was a science behind the raising of the dead.  With a calm air, he pressed forward, "Guess we might as well go inside."

The door to the place opens with an ominous {creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak} at Zach's words. Almost as if the place was inviting them in.

"Well isn't that hospitable of them. Such a friendly spirit about the place." Boudreaux said.

"Shall we gentlemen?" Jack asked motioning to the place.

The Professor picks up his valise and heads up the steps, onto the porch and into the house. He pauses just inside to call out, "Hello?  Is anyone home?"

Zac looked to the other two gentlemen and shrugged at the door's ominous and inviting opening. He smiled at Jack's joke, "Well, good help is always so hard to find." With little fear or concern, he bound forward through the open door and into the forbidding inn.

The foyer of the boarding house is filled with comfortable but slightly dusty chairs, end tables, and a bar with a crystal decanter and some glasses set on a silver tray. There's a couple doors leading elsewhere, but they're closed. There's also a stairway leading to a balcony. The kerosene lamps are dim, and there's no fire in the fireplace. The building exudes a sense of emptiness.

One of the doors on the balcony opens, and a dark-haired woman and a robed figure step out of a darkened hall.

The woman regards them for a moment.  "Well, hello there!  What can I do for you gentlemen?  Would you care for some of Miss Fairchild's fine tea?"

Boudreaux tipped his hat.

"Good evening ma'am." Jack said with his N'Orleans accent and a charming smile as he fell in love for the second time in a day. The raven haired lady was stunning. He could have sworn he new her, but that was impossible.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:35, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

Janet's eyes widened.  "Jack Boudreaux!  I haven't seen you in forever!  What are you doing here?"

Boudreaux said witha smile.

"Mon cher aimee. What a pleasant surprise. I find myself here in Deadwood to see a friend off."

With Jack's recognition, Zac take a closer look at the raven haired beauty. He felt simultaneously jealous and curious as to who she was.  A tilt of the sixteen year old's head indicated the later feeling.  He smiled assuredly, though beautiful woman always made him feel unsure of himself. Zac would rather face the wrong end of a revolver, then have to look a beautiful girl in the eye. His father would always smile when he talked about it, simply saying "Just is the nature of things," and telling his son that that feeling was natural to men of all ages.

"Howdy M'am. I'm Zachary O'Conner, reporter at large, you already know Jack, and this is our friend The Professor, he's looking for a room, and we were told by my Aunt Mollie, this would be the place to come." He offered his hand, and if returned, would shake the woman's hand with a firm and confident greeting. He smiled, somewhat shyly, a look that made him appear both older and younger than he appeared at first glance.

Janet made her way down the stairs, held Zach's hand gracefully.  "Pleased to meet you.  I'm Janet, Janet Weiss.  Miss Fairchild is apparently nowhere to be found right now, but I'd be happy to show you around the place." She smiled at Zach and Jack, green eyes twinkling.

Boudreaux greet Mademoiselle Weiss with a kiss on her hand. "So what brings you to Deadwood?"

Janet giggled.  "Oh, you know.  A little bit of this, a little bit of that.  The usual.  I suppose I should ask you the same question: what brings you to Deadwood?"  She curtsied.  "As I said, I don't know where Miss Fairchild is, but it would be inhospitable of me to not offer you a drink."

The robed figure, meanwhile, walks down the stairs and out of the building, not stopping to chat with the new arrivals.

((OOC: I'm just watching you folk interact for now. Keep on posting.))

The Professor quietly watched as the robed figure moved past and out of the house. The expression on his face was one of puzzlement, but it quickly faded as if he had filed the oddity away in his brain and was now turning to the matters at hand.  He took off his hat and approached Janet, gallantly taking her hand and kissing the back of it as he bowed lightly.

"As Zachary mentioned, I am The Professor. It is lovely to make your acquaintance, my dear. And a drink would be most welcome.  We could relax in the sitting room perhaps until Miss Fairchild returns and can show me to my room."

Janet curtsied again, then busied herself pouring bourbons for everyone.  "Here you go, Miss Fairchild's finest." she said, gracefully serving everyone.  "I take it you're all friends of Jack?  How wonderful!  What brings you all to Deadwood?"

In reply to Janet Weiss (msg # 131):

"Yes we have been traveling together. This is the Professor, and this is Zach O'Connor. We are in town looking up a friend of a friend. I doubt you know him, but his name is Charley bull." Jack said in reply.

The group relaxes in the sitting room with their drinks and discusses pleasantries for a few minutes.

The door on the Balcony opens and two people descend the stair to the foyer.

One is a moderately handsome and well-dressed man in a charcoal suit and stovepipe hat, but there's just something off about him. He has pale skin, wavy jet-black hair, a trim mustache, and the most remarkable green eyes beneath his dark blue spectacles. His shadow doesn't quite follow along with his movements, and at times seems to move of it's own volition.

The other is handsome but severe woman of middle years, dressed in white and grey. She eyes the assembled group, giving each of them a calculating, measured stare, as if drinking in their appearances, mannerisms, and perhaps a few of their well-kept secrets with her eyes. She heads over to the Professor.

"...welcome, Professor...!" She says to him, her voice light and somewhat ethereal. "...it's a pleasure to meet you at last. Were you interested in a room and my humble establishment...?"

The gentleman in grey raises an eyebrow at this, then shrugs, takes a seat near Janet, and helps himself to a glass of brandy. He nods at Zach and then gives Jack a glance that lingers just a half-second too long to be polite.

"My, my." he says. "Such an interesting collection of new guests! Mrs. Weiss, you seem to be making friends at an astonishing pace here in Deadwood."

((OOC: Janet, you can make a Common Knowledge Roll (-4) to see if you've heard the name of Charley Bull. It's possible you've picked up some gossip on him while in town, but not likely.))

"Why yes, Roger.  Jack Bordreaux is an old friend of mine from way back.  It was quite surprising to find him here, I must admit.  They're here looking up someone by the name of Charley Bull.  Do you know him?"

Boudreaux tipped his hat "Pleasure to make your aquintence ma'am."

There was indeed something strange about the place, it's proprieter and the guests. It did not seem to be a problem for Miss Weiss, but it was unusual.

"Hmm...Charley Bull, Charley Bull...ah, the Indian! I've met him casually once or twice. Very fond of the theater, which is odd for a Sioux." The grey-suited man, Roger, says. "I've often seen him at the Langrishe theater, though I believe he got in some trouble there passing off wooden nickles. I understand he crossed one of the more senior members of the Deadwood Miner's Alliance, a fellow named Donald Koenig. Charley and Donald quarreled after that gruesome massacre a few weeks back...Donald was calling for the lynching of all Sioux in town in retaliation for the attack, Charley called him several dreadful things and claimed he could prove the Sioux didn't attack those men. Then Charley disappeared. I suspect he may be in hiding...The DMA doesn't suffer those who challenge it well. Do you play cards, Jack?"

"I have been known to play a hand of cards from time to time Mr Whatley." Jack said in reply. He wondered why Whateley had focused on him, there was something about the man that was different.

"That is interesting news about Charley Bull. I had heard something similar. Perhaps you have some idea of where a man like Mr Bull might find sanctuary."

The man in the grey suit pulls out a deck of cards and shuffles it. "With his own people, I expect. Being native-born gives him that advantage, though he would stick out like a sore thumb among them. If you are trying to find him, you'll have little luck--the Sioux have no fondness for outsiders on what they consider their land. You might be better served attempting to mollify Mr. Koenig. He and Frank Bryant are going to be joining us for dinner tonight...if you are going to be around, you might wish to join us. Mrs. Weiss, would you care to join this game?"

He deals the cards to whoever decides to join the game. "Tell me, Jack...do I detect the patois of Louisiana creole in your voice?"

((OOC: Er, Jack? Roger's last name hasn't actually been mentioned...))

Janet giggled as she was dealt the cards.  "Now Roger, you know I'm still learning this game!  Please, take it easy on me.  I know you're a fantastic player, especially after you so neatly outplayed Jack McCall."

Roger chuckles. "Oh, I know I might seem like a skilled player when compared to such a rank amateur as McCall, but that's only because a trained monkey could outplay that blowhard, by jingo!" he waits for Jack to pick up his cards or reply to his question.

"Yes I do hail from New Orleans. Have you been there before?" Jack asked. The emntion of Jack McCall got his attention as well.

"Are you speaking of the same Jack McCall responsible for the killing of Wild Bill Hitcock?"

"Yes I do hail from New Orleans. Have you been there before?" Jack asked. The emntion of Jack McCall got his attention as well.

"Are you speaking of the same Jack McCall responsible for the killing of Wild Bill Hitcock?"

"No, but I have family there." Roger replies. "I've been meaning to visit them one of these days. They tell me some of the most fantastic stories about the place. Tell me, is it true what they say about dark voodoo magic? I have a fondness for the occult."

He nods. "The very same. Such a dreadful reprobate. I imagine he won't trouble our fair city much longer, though...I have it on good authority that he has a bounty hunter on his trail and will soon be wishing very strongly he'd stayed wherever he crawled after he left Deadwood the first time. And then, God willing, he shall be dangling from the end of a rope!"

"I have found that very little of what folks say about such things is true. But N'Orleans is a fine city and if you have family there I can imagine no reason not to make the journey." Boudreaux said with a biyt of a smile.

"Perhaps I am aquainted with them, what is your family name?"

"Oh? Perhaps you care to correct some of my mistaken impressions, then. Do voodooists really do things like sacrifice chickens and drop into ecstatic trances to be ridden by the spirits? Can they really control dead men and inflict wounds from a distance by sticking a doll with a pin?" Roger looks at his cards, and discards two. He shrugs. "Perhaps you may. Is the name Sebastian familiar to you?"

"You are not related to Montreux Sebastian are you?" Jack asked surprised by the coincidence.

"As for Voodoo, there are others far better equipped to answer such questions."

"So there is a bounty on the head of Jack McCall?" Jack asked.

Janet smiles into her cards.  "Oh, voodoo is nothing to be trifled with.  It's said that those who dabble in its arts can gain great power, but at a price."

"Sadly, no." Roger says. "He sounds like an interesting fellow, but I don't know him. No, the house of Sebastian is not likely to have made much waves you would have heard about...never owned a plantation, for one."

He smiles at Janet. "Why, Mrs. Weiss, you continue to surprise me! Have you had any close encounters with voodooists?"

Jacks hand is decent he has a pair of aces, a pair of eights, and the jack of diamonds. Not a bad hand to play on...


"Well I don't know. I haven't seen any official bounties posted, if that's what you mean, but Wild Bill Hickok was a popular man in Deadwood. All of men who tried McCall for Hickok's murder wound up dead. Each of them had the Dead Man's Hand scattered around them, with a single extra card placed on each one from Ace to Queen. Twelve cards for twelve jurors, with only the king remaining. And now that McCall himself is back in town causing trouble, well, I expect that King to drop any day now. Assuming Maddox doesn't catch him first. He's being investigated as a suspect in a robbery at the Iron Dragon depot."

Zac watch quietly, twisting his drink, but not drinking. He found that alcohol dulled his senses, and he didn't want to miss a word of the conversation. Jack seemed like he'd make a good reporter some day, and the teenager was happy to let him drive the conversation for the moment. He looked over to newcomer, trying to determine what was off about him.

He took in the information from Charlie Bull to Jack McCall.

"Mister.. Roger," the reporter started, realizing he didn't have the man's last name,"Sounds like you're a man of the world, what brought you here to Deadwood?"

"Well based on the deaths of all those jurors, it does sound as if McCall has little time left."

Jack looked at his hand. He would throw back the Jack and see what he got in it's place.

"Please, call me Roger." The gentleman says to Zach. "Or Mr. Sebastian, if you simply must be formal. As for why I'm in town, well, a previous venture of mine turned sour. Deadwood is ripe with the potential to turn disaster into opportunity."

Zach notices there's something...off about the man's shadow. It follows his movements lazily, almost halfheartedly...as it it wanted to be doing something other than what the man who was casting it was doing at the moment.

Jack draws a card...and finds it's the Jack of Diamonds. Again. It seems to wink at him, just for a second. Roger smirks. "Oh, I would say his time is about up. I wonder if it really is Hickok's Ghost that killed the men who let McCall free. Wouldn't that be something? To speak with the ghost of one of the greatest gunmen that ever lived?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:23, Sun 16 Dec 2012.

06:57, Today: Black Jack Boudreaux rolled 14 using 2d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,(6+4)10. ck.

"As you say Rodger, Wild Bill had a lot of friends. Surely they are responsible for the killings. Though I too do agree it would be interesting to speak with a man like Hickok."

"Perhaps if one were able to lay their hands on McCall, if Hickok is somehow responsible, such a meeting would be possible." Jack said as he did what he could to mask his reaction to getting back what seemed like a more mischievous version of the same card.

"Oh?" Roger says, raising an eyebrow. "Do you know someone who could get their hands on the elusive Jack McCall? Because I would be very interested in getting in touch with them. Interested enough to pay a fee of, say, $75 to them to arrange such a meeting with McCall...provided his guns were elsewhere during that time."

((OOC: A pair Aces, a pair of eights, the Jack of Diamonds...that's the Dead Man's Hand! It's the hand Wild Bill Hickok supposedly had when Jack McCall shot him in the back...))

Janet laughs.  "I wouldn't mind getting my hands on Jack McCall myself, although I can't afford $75 for  the privilege."  She looks down at her cards.  "I don't think I have a very good hand.  What do you have, Jack?"

"It will cost you another dollar to find out Miss Weiss." Jack said with a smile.

"Missus." she corrected gently.  "I suppose I can spare another dollar to see what you have." A coin clinked onto the table.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:51, Mon 17 Dec 2012.

"Too rich for my hand, I'm afraid." Roger says, setting his cards down. "I fold." He leans back in his seat to watch the game between Janet and Jack play out.

((OOC: Make a Gambling check for me, Jack.))

"My apologies Mrs Wiess. I am an omptomist and always hope all beautiful ladies are single."

With Roger out, Jack decided to raise the bet and threw five more dollars in the pot.

((OOC: Since both of you have now rolled, I'll just let the two of you RP this out...I'll use your rolls to determine who has the better hand.))
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:35, Tue 18 Dec 2012.

"Well, I don't have much, but you've got me curious.  I call."

Black lays down his cards. "Aces and eights."

Nate approaches Fairchild's Boarding House, pocket filled with a little coin after a quick trip to the bank to cash his check from selling his gear. As he got closer, however, he began to have doubts about the place.

Fairchild's Boarding House is large, three-story American Gothic house. A large turret occupies the right corner of the front of the house, and a covered porch runs from the turret around the left. The paint is a dreary gray with shingles to match. A sense of brooding malevolence oozes from the edifice, and its windows almost seem like eyes that glow from within.

Nate can feel a darkness from the place, as if it was watching him approach...and didn't like what it saw.

Still, every place else in town was full up with soldiers. It was here or nothing.

Nate looked the big, looming house over slowly.  He started to weigh his options...then realized he had none and sighed heavily.  Shaking his head ruefully, the former prospector ascends the porch steps and knocks at the front door politely.  As an afterthought, he drags off his hat and tries to smooth down his hair.  Its at least an attempt at looking presentable for the landlady.

Mrs. Fairchild breaks of speaking with The Professor at the knock on the door. "...oh, pardon me..." she says, and glides over to the door.

Nate watches the door open, and cringes at the long creek the hinges make. Standing before him is a handsome middle-aged woman in a long white dress, who gives him a curious look, almost as if she were trying to divine the secrets of his soul. The quizzical look passes, and she smiles. "...so many new faces..." her voice is breathy and ethereal. It sends tingles up Nate's spine. "...won't you come in? Always room for one more..."

Janet put down her cards breathlessly.  "I only have two pairs as well.  See?  A pair of queens, and another pair of queens!"  She turns over her cards to reveal four queens.  They appear to be smiling merrily.

Roger coughs politely. "Now now, Mrs. Weiss. It's considered bad form to slow roll your opponent. In certain circles it's considered rude enough to spark an argument. The kind that ends in gun play. Remember that one must be gracious in both triumph and defeat."

Nate takes a long moment after Mrs. Fairchild's invitation.  Perhaps again trying to weigh his options.....or maybe its just been a long while since he's been spoke to by a respectable lady.  "Thank you, ma'am.  That's very kind of ya.  Most everywhere else in town can't say the same."  Stepping in, he grips dthe brim of his hat a little tighter and looking around, "Army didn't try to buy up your rooms too?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:11, Wed 19 Dec 2012.

Inside, Nate notices a group of familiar people. Black Jack is playing cards with a pretty young lady and a gentleman in a grey suit. The Professor and Zach O' Conner are sharing drinks off to the side.

The lady shrugs. "...they have not approached me, no...and should they attempt to do so, I plan to have a discussion with Mr. Custer concerning our Third Amendment rights..."

Nate looks over his aquaintances, smiling a bit at the surprise of finding them all there.  But, they can wait.  The lady of the house was still speaking with him.   To her politely indignant assertion, he notes, "Well, I don't know about that, but from what I have heard of Custer, the only rights he much cares about are his own.  But, I'm just glad you still have room now and I do thank you.  Again.  It also looks like a few travelling aquaintances have found your doorstep."   The trio are so indicated by a motioning of his hat.

She smiles. "...oh, I do not think that will be a problem. I find men can be quite reasonable...when the request is placed in the proper context. He will...see reason. But enough of my problems. I feel dreadfully awkward...I haven't even introduced myself yet. I am the widow Elaine Fairchild. And yes, it does seem we shall have a good number of guests. How long were you intending to stay, and were you going to be wanting full board, half board, or breakfasts only?"

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fairchild.   I'm Nate, ma'am.   Nate Wheeler."  Said with all the eloquence of a young man still learning to sound like a real adult. "And half board would be great, Mrs. Fairchild.  Dunno quite where I'll be for the day....on account of looking  for work."  Before she can look him askance, he adds, "But I do have ready money right now, so don't worry.  As for how long...well....I'm not too sure at the moment...."

"I see five Queens from where I am sitting." Boudreaux smiled.

"Well you can't win them all." Jack shrugged slightly. "Perhaps I am lucky at love."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:02, Wed 19 Dec 2012.

Zac watched the game silently for a moment. Despite the impropriety of it, he laughed at Janet's "slow roll" of Jack. He turned his attention back to the professor, "So Professor, what do you think of ghosts," he asked casually but earnestly enough.

Seeing the prospector enter the salon, Zac waved "Mr Williams, So good to see you, I was wondering where you'd gotten off to..."

Mrs. Fairchild nods. "...we have several options available here...we rent by the day, week, fortnight, or month. It's $3 per the day, $15 for a week, $45 for a fortnight, and $75 per month." She looks over at Zach an arches an eyebrow. "...ghosts, sir? Whatever do you mean?"

Meanwhile, Roger is also showing a bit of mirth at the roll and Jack's smoothness in playing it off. "Perhaps so. I am given to understand that Negros are particularly well endowed in that area."

"Well m'am, since coming to Deadwood, we've heard quite a bit of ghost stories as it were. Why, folk even said this place haunted," he said with a laugh as if dismissing the notion as silly, though truth be told he was still unsure. "The Professor here is a man of science, so I was curious as to what the scientific explain is for ghosts and the like as opposed to the usual spiritual one."

Jack hearing the conversation with Miss fairchild and his friends excused himself from the game for a moment.

"Please excuse Zachary's exuberance. I think tales such as that are associated with many of the finest establishments in N'Orleans. It merely adds to their cache."

Nate nods politely back to Zach, but leaves his attention with the landlady as she eplains the rates.  To which, he returns, "Well, for the week then might be best.   Thank you, ma'am."  Though he figured paying right now would seem rude, so he'll wait till the right time.  The conversation seems to be opening up so he steps further into the sitting room.  The notion of ghosts and hauntings catches his attention though and he looks around the room as though trying to spot the ghosts in question.

"...haunted. really..." Mrs. Fairchild says, a touch of scorn creeping into her voice. "...you mustn't believe everything you hear, young man. particularly in deadwood..."

"Oh, I wouldn't dismiss the possibility out of hand, Mrs. Fairchild." Roger says. "I've had a number of strange experiences here, experiences that didn't seem to have rational explanation. In fact..." He trials off, then stares at a corner of the room, eyes bulging in shock. "LOOK!" He shouts, and stands half out of his chair, pointing at...something.

Nate sees it first, as he's the one looking around when Roger shouts. But soon they can all see it, the shadowy thing stepping out from behind the curtain, a patch of darkness shaped like some unholy skeletal shadow, claw stretching out to grab the prospector...



((OOC: Everyone make a Fear check, -5 for the local Fear Level, -1 for the creature's Fear penalty, + Grit))
This message was last edited by the player at 00:37, Sun 23 Dec 2012.

Janet screams and drops her cards.


11:21, Today: Janet Weiss rolled -3,3 using d6-4,d6-4, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+1)7. Fear check.

Jack Boudreaux, having grown up in N'Orleans, has seen some wild things in his life. He stands his ground, unshaken without so much as a flutter.

"Mrs Fairchild it does appear another guest has made its arrival."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Sat 29 Dec 2012.

"My Stars!" The Professor exclaims, the brandy snifter in his hand crashing to the ground as the man gawks at the shadowy figure stepping out from behind the curtain.

OOC -
21:34, Today: The Professor rolled -2,-3 using d6-5,d6-5, rerolling max with rolls of 3,2. Fear check.

Zac is about to apologize to Mrs. Fairchild when the  he catches site of the skeleton thing moving towards Nate. A cry is caught in his throat as he can't remember the prospector's name, He stands from his chair, knocking it over in the process. He wants to run, but his legs are frozen to the spot. HIs eyes are wide, "Jeepers..." he whispers.

[OOC: Rolled 0,-2 using d6-5,d6-5, rerolling max ((5,3)).]

((OOC: GM Puppeting, so the rest of you can respond))

The miner's eyes bulge a bit at the shadowy apparition, but he holds his ground. One hand lowers towards his pack as the thing advances on him.

((OOC: 11:10, Today: The Stray, on behalf of Nate Williams, rolled 4,0 using d8-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 7,3. Fear!

That's a success.

This was a roll for Fear/Nausea, so those of you that failed (Janet Weiss, The Professor, Zach O'Connor) are Shaken and need to roll Vigor to avoid suffering a level of Fatigue (and if you roll a 1 on t he Vigor die, you also suffer the effects of Terror). Those of you not Shaken (Black Jack and Nate) can act as you see fit.))

13:21, Today: Janet Weiss rolled 5,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,1.

Shaken, but not sick.

20:08, Today: The Professor rolled 2,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2. vigor roll.

Rerolling by spending a white chip...


20:10, Today: The Professor rolled 2,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2.

Spending a second white chip...


20:12, Today: The Professor rolled 5,3 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,3.

Better...Shaken but not sick as well.

Zac's legs felt frozen to the floor as he took in the site of the skeleton. He grit his teeth and put his hand to his mouth, willing Nate to get out of the way, even as the reporter in him noticed his hand going to his pack. He felt sick to his stomach, but stopped short of throwing up.

[OOC: Zachary O'Conner rolled 3,9 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,(6+3)9. Vigor. Whew. ]

((OOC: The action is in Black Jack and Nate William's court now.))

"Mrs Fairchild, I have no desire to make a commotion in your establishment. Perhaps you can ask this spectre to leave your establishment." Jack said as he watched the spirit carefully.

Mrs. Fairchild doesn't reply to Black Jack...she's too busy glaring at Roger, who has just begun laughing.

Nate, about to spring whatever half-formed plan he'd concocted, watches as the spiky apparition suddenly splits apart into long bars of shadow that resemble nothing more than spindly fingers. He slips the grip of the pistol he was about to pull back into his pouch.

Roger continues laughing, a deep chuckle that could put any melodrama villain to shame. He waves his fingers in front of the lantern once everyone's attention is on him.

"Shadow puppet." he says, grinning at Zachery. "Nothing more substantial than a trick of the light mixed with theatrics and your own gullibility. But you really should have seen the look on your face as it sprung forth from nothingness! If I had an Epitaph camera, I wager I could have sold the plate for a substantial sum!"

Mrs. Fairchild continues to glare at him. "...are you quite finished, Mr. Sebastian?" she says, her tone indicating he'd better be.

"Just a demonstration, my dear, of the power of suggestion." Roger replies glibly. "Young mister...O'Connor, was it? Mister O'Connor, you wanted to know if there were a scientific explanation for ghosts, as opposed to spiritual. There is, but I fancy it's not the explanation you were hoping for. The truth is, if you go poking around for ghosts, you are apt to find all sorts of things you can mistake for ghostly activity, and miss the reality of the situation. This is true of many other things in life. Don't look for facts to fit some preconceived notion...look at the evidence first, and then draw conclusions. That's the basis of actual scientific inquiry."

He sits back in his chair and shuffles his deck. "Anyone for another game?"

"Roger, you near to frightened the living daylights out of me!"  Janet picked up her cards.  "Here you go.  So now you're playing with a full deck!"


07:23, Today: Janet Weiss rolled 5,10 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,(6+4)10. Knowledge: Occult.

"Oh, I haven't been playing with one of those in quite some time, my dear." Roger grins.

11:16, Today: Black Jack Boudreaux rolled 3,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,5.

Jack laughed, at no moment had he ever showed the slightest fear of the spirit "I can always appreciate a good joke, but my old Grandma taught me never to play cards with an illousionist."

In reply to Black Jack Boudreaux (msg # 192):

"Oh, but it's like playing against any other sort of cardsharp or hustler." Roger replies. "Once you know the trick, it's easy enough to play around it. Although, if you don't fancy a game, I could always use the cards a different way. Say, to tell you your fortune?"

Zac smiled weakly, he was all for a good joke, but this seemed more than a simple lesson or joke, "You make a good point, sir, if slightly over playing it," he said with some soreness in his voice still.

"Yet, I have seen things that were not mere shadow puppets, nor explained away as easily as a gullible reporter or trick of the light. I neither believe nor no not believe in ghosts. But I have experienced things I cannot explain or rather the explanations do not always feel sufficient. You offer one explanation, quite dramatically, " if rudely, he thought to himself, "I only wonder if the Professor could offer... others."

"Still,"he offered somewhat conciliatory, "that was quite an impressive and realistic trick."


[OOC: 15:02, Today: Zachary O'Conner rolled 1,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1. Knowledge Occult. Ouch. That's pretty rough.]

"Well.."

The Professor pauses before replying


20:32, Today: The Professor rolled 1,9 using d4-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 3,(6+5)11. Knowledge occult.

PM

"Clearly what we witnessed was more substantial than a simple visual perception trick. Oh, such techniques were involved, no doubt, but the fact that the entity interacted with the three dimensional space around it suggests that it was formed of Aether. For the layman, Aether is the substance that exists in between the three dimensional space that you or I exist in.

Congratulations, Mr. Sebastian, on your demonstrated ability to manipulate the Aether in such a skilled manner. I only wonder where your apparatus is hidden, as such a feat would require an investure of large quantities of energy."

Roger smiles. "Well, that, I'm afraid, I cannot share with you. A magician never reveals all of his secrets, after all. It tends to ruin the illusion. But yes, I admit to a tiny amount of aetheric manipulation in my impromptu production. Are you, perchance, versed in the ways of the New Science?"

"New Science? It is really just Science isn't it? Science is all about understanding the new.  Anyway, yes...I am a Scientist...to answer your question."

"Well, of course all scientific progress is directed toward understanding and exploiting the new. But I'm talking about those branches of inquiry that seek to bridge the worlds of academia and the occult, to find rational explanations so seemingly 'supernatural' occurrences. That field is oft maligned by those who have limited imagination, though I don't see why. It's adherents of this branch of the sciences that most often espouses Aetheric Theory, which prompted my question."

"A true Scientist would not discount the evidence of so called 'supernatural' events. They are simply labeled occult or supernatural because we have yet to fully understand the Scientific underpinnings of the phenomena.  Much like early man who thought that lightning was Zeus throwing thunderbolts, those who say that Science has no place exploring the occult are locked into an unsophisticated way of thinking."

"Professor, you are a man after my own heart." Roger says. "Will you sit and have a drink with me? I feel this could be the beginning of a remarkable and intellectually stimulating friendship."

He heads over to the bar and pours two glasses of brandy. Mrs. Fairchild, meanwhile, takes Nate's bags and heads upstairs to show him his room.

Roger holds a glass out for the Professor. "Tell me, sir. Are you familiar with cartomancy? The reading of Tarot cards and such to divine the future?"

The Professor accepts the drink from Roger, warming the glass with his hands as he replies, "I know of it, but I know little of the occult theory behind it.  Why do you ask?"

"Because I practice it, and if you are interested I can perform a demonstration, but I wanted to gauge out your opinion of the practice first." Roger says, taking a sip. "I dabble in the art of gambling as my primary means of support, but I've always been fascinated by the interplay of cards, fortune, and fate. If you are game, or wish to learn more of the subject, I can show you some of what I have learned. If, on the other hand, you are skeptical of the practice, or one of those closed-minded debunkers of mediums, then no demonstration I provide is likely to change your mind. So which is it?"

Jack had no interest in having Roger involve himself in his future.

"I'm not skeptical that you have the ability to manipulate Aetheric forces. I AM skeptical that you will simply be looking at the realm of probabilities without manipulating them. If you give me your word that you will simply be an observer or a messenger in this process, then I woul love to see a demonstration."

Zac watched the interaction between the Professor and Mr Whateley. He was coming to the conclusion that Mr Whateley was not someone to be trusted, whether it was the odd feeling he gave off, his "shadow" puppet trick, or lying about the nature of his trick, he was not sure.

It seemed the professor had a similar feeling. The young reporter reached into his pocket and opened his notebook. He wrote the word, AETHER, then underlined it, with a small circled question mark. Beside that he wrote and arrow and "Ask The Professor."

Roger laughs. "You have a high opinion of my talents, Professor! I'm magician and a card sharp, not some dread wizard down from some tower, weaving hexes and blights. Besides, it's the past and the present I read with clarity. The future is always vague and uncertain. I can answer questions about where you've been, but as for where you're going...I can only provide signposts." He shuffles his deck. "Still, if you must have my word that I will not tangle the skein of fate, you have it. It's an easy one to give, since I couldn't break it even if I were inclined to."

"Well then Mr. Sebastian.  Show us your demonstration then."

This thread is now closed. Please resume posting on the Chapter 3.1: Hickok's Revenge thread.