quote:
Late last night when we were all in bed,
Mrs. O'Leary left her lantern in the shed.
Well, the cow kicked it over, and this is what they said:
"There'll be a hot time in the old town tonight!"
Black Hills Mining Supply is an unassuming wooden building sandwiched between the rowdy Wooly Buffalo saloon and Whitewood Creek. It's filled to the brim with pickaxes, shovels, pans, and a host of other mining supplies, as well as a selection of clothing made for rough use such as denim overalls and flannel shirts. The bored-looking clerk at the counter looks up at James Lonefeather's entrance without interest, and the young lady stocking the shelves turns and favors him with a quick smile.
Lonefeather steps up to the counter.
"Hello there. I'm new in town and my uncle told me to stop in here if I needed anything. John Turley?"
The clerk looks up at him.
"Uncle John Turley sent us another one, huh? Good. Maybe we'll actually get some things done around here."
Lonefeather doesn't comment.
The clerk sighs and hikes his thumb toward the back room.
"Mr. Speakman's in charge of the stock. He'll answer all your questions."
"Thank you." Lonefeather says, and steps into the back room.
The back office was just about everything one could expect of the back office of a mining supply store. Desk, chair, drawer filled with files, and a dour-looking man in a dapper suit and slicked-back hair who wouldn't have looked out of place in any shop Back East. But they weren't Back East--they were in Deadwood, and thus the clerk looked slightly out of place here.
"Yes?" he says, faintly puzzled.
Lonefeather sits down and doffs his hat, laying it on his lap.
"Agent Speakman, I'm Agent James Lonefeather, reporting for duty."
Ayers and Wardman Hardware
The Brethren gathered in the back room of Ayers and Wardman. It was time. Purple-dyed hands passed around rifles, belts of ammunition, and sticks of dynamite.
"Brethren and Sistren!" The reverend yells, addressing the crowd of robed figures.
"That Which Crawls Beneath has seen fit to bless us tonight! We have been warned of a terrible threat to us! The government is trying to stamp on our religious freedoms! Our Pincess of Worms has named those we must bring to glorification! He sources in the shadows have said that we shall find them at the sign of the star!"
"Hail!" The church group says in unison.
"Hail the Conqueror Worm!"
Mt. Moriah Cemetery
The woman in the dusty vest, stained shirt, and dungarees knelt by the grave, her ratty bowler hat in her hands.
"They're sayin' he's bin caught. McCall's in jail after tryin' to shoot some poor fucker in the back." she says, looking down at the headboard.
The epitaph reads,
"Wild Bill – J.B. Hickok. Killed by the assassin Jack McCall in Deadwood Black Hills August 2nd 1876. Pard we will meet again in the Happy Hunting ground to part no more. Good Bye – Colorado Charley C.H. Utter."
The figure next to the grave nods.
"I see."
"What're you gonna do, Bill?" The woman asks, digging her toe into the dirt near the grave.
"You gonna go after him?"
"I will. But you have to understand...I want the organ grinder, not the monkey. It's time I settled this account." The figure looks at the woman.
"Can I count on you?"
"Til the end o' days, Bill." She says.
The figure smiled, as best it could with rotted lips.
"That's just what I wanted to hear." It reached behind the gravestone, and pulled up a can of kerosene.
"Now. Let's go smoke out a rat."
Langrishe Theater
The man in the dapper ringmaster's garb took a peek out of the curtain.
"Seems to be more than usual, and we have a half-hour yet before showtime." He says to his pretty assistant. He grins, a not-quite-sane smile that is reflected on the face of the girl beside him.
"This will be the last one, you know. The final performance. Once we're done here, we can activate the meachine. We'll certainly have enough for our needs."
"I can't wait." The girl quivers with anticipation.
"Neither can I, my dove. Barring anything unforeseen, we shall soon be rich beyond the dreams of avarice! nothing can stop us now!"
And then he beings to laugh, a cracked and burbling cackle that rises above the din of the half-filled theater.
The Deadwood Miner's Alliance stockade
James Wilder, Sam "Fish," and about a half-dozen miners ride out from the stockade, heading to Deadwood. James notices that most of the folks traveling with him are going heeled...it looks a bit more like a lynch mob than a group of revelers heading to town for a good time. It would be worrying even without the fellow they call "Bloody Marty" leading the pack...
((OOC: Please give me a Common Knowledge roll, James. You get a +2 bonus from your background.))
Fairchild's Boarding House
Back at the boarding house, Jackie quickly made her exit, saying something along the lines of "I ain't really welcome in the house." She promises to meet the Professor with a carriage after she's returned home and gotten properly dressed.
The Professor has plenty of time to get ready, and he's waiting in the foyer when Matt Broaddale, the vacationing Marshal, enters the room. Now would seem to be a perfect time to recruit another man of the law to stop the terrible Dr. Smythe...
((OOC: And there you two are. Go ahead and chat up for a bit.
Freiherr von Stienhof, I'll add you to the running action, but I want to have you concentrate on dealing with your situation on your other thread.))
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:26, Sat 15 June 2013.
