September 17th, 1880. Afternoon. Deadwood, Sioux Nations

The sky weeps, pouring rain on Deadwood. The roads, already a thick mass of sticky, stinking mud, turn into a quagmire. The rain beats on the rooftops like a marching drum, a steady staccato beat punctuated by the march of soldiers as they search alleyways, tents, and saloons for the outlaw Darius Carter.

Art and Moses make their way through Deadwood in this downpour. They pass through Celestial Alley, filled with signs in both Chinese and English, but empty of people. A number of cats watch them pass by.

They reach the Iron Dragon depot, and spot a train halted at the platform. Blue-uniformed soldiers guard the train, while several enter the passenger compartments and the cargo cars. Past the depot, they reach an area that has been fenced off. Beyond it, a number of saloons lie gutted and shattered, and there's a crater in the middle of the street. Moses fills a chill down his spine as he passes by the area. Soldiers seem to be removing corpses and wounded from one of the buildings -- whatever happened here didn't happen that long ago. The soldiers glance at Moses and Art's entourage of indians, but don't interfere with them.

Past that, the nearest open saloon is the Mint Gambling House.

---

Leopold von Steinhof, sleeping off his drunken binge from the last few hours, is woken up by an unseasonable rumble. Thunder? No. Someone is knocking at his chamber door.

---

James Wilder makes it back to the DMA Stockade, where he finds Frank Bryant and a large contingent of men passing out rifles and pistols in the courtyard.

"Now, this bastard's been bird-dogging us for months!" The large man shouts at the assembled over the pounding rain. "So if you see Carter, you fucking shoot to kill! We'll show him that he don't get to cross Deadwood's finest and live to tell about it! We'll show that Wild Bunch out there that we're not takin' their shit anymore!"

"Huzzah!" The crowd of gunmen shouts.

"Death to Carter! Death to the Wild Bunch! Death to the redskins! Death to the chinks! Death to all them motherfuckers who get in our way!" Bryant roars.

"Huzzah!"

"Huzzah!"

"Huzzah!"

---

Jackie Wells has a cabin on the outskirts of town. She doesn't invite Zeke, Logan, or Katy inside while she changes, so they're left standing awkwardly on the porch with Wild Bill Hickok, who just watches them all. It's more than a little uncomfortable.

When Jackie leaves, she's wearing more normal wear for her -- jeans, boots, a button-up shirt, vest, and a longcoat, her gatling pistol holstered at her side and a fancy-looking rifle of unfamiliar design on her back.

"Right. Ready." She says. "Now, let's see to findin' the Prospector."

"Goin' rather heavily heeled, ain't ya?" Wild Bill comments.

Jackie shrugs. "I ain't expectin' trouble, but I weren't expectin' it before, neither. If trouble does come, I want it to have troubles with me." She adjusts the rifle. "Besides, I got some things to tell Coot that he might not believe right away. A good demonstration'll go a long way there, and I don't have the credentials I used to have."

---

In the Mint Saloon, Matt Broaddale eventually staggers downstairs, unsure whether he's just had the most intense sexual experience of his life or gone several rounds with a wild mink. He's sore in random places, found out the hard way about the little pearl-grip straight razor in the hair, and is entirely too euphoric to care.

Maddox, meanwhile, is taking in a drink while Belle watches from a nearby table.

A burly Native American with a mohawk, dressed in Union Blues, steps into the saloon. The barkeep, Dandy Don, looks up in alarm.

"Hey! What's the big idea?" He says.

The indian shakes off some water, then stomps over to the bar, leaving a trail of mud. "Where Mad-Docs?" he growls.

Belle recognizes the Indian right away...it's the rude Pawnee from earlier!

Dandy Don shrugs. "Don't know if I can help you, sir." he says.

"Mad-docs!" The mohawked indian shouts. "Where find Mad-docs?" He waves a crumpled, wet piece of paper. "Talking leaf say, find Mad-Docs if find whore. Sitting Duck find whore, want bounty! Where find Mad-docs!?"

Maddox recognises his slightly mangled name being yelled by the soggy fellow and raises a hand to show where he is. "Hey! I'm here."

He scuffs his seat back a little as the tough customer makes his way over, giving him just enough room to draw in a hurry, just in case. The Welshman looks up at the sodden soldier. "Where is she?" he asks.

DMA Stockade

James shook his head, this wasn't what he wanted to have to deal with now. Noon tomorrow he world changes ... but first this... He moved to where Frank was and asks the big man,

"Frank! Can I get a horse? I need to go get my father's gun from out in the indian lands."

Matt pulls up short as the shouting mohawked Pawnee enters and begins shouting. He stops on the last few steps of the stairs and leans on the banister. His grey eyes seem inattentive as he lazily scans the room, but he is listening intently to "Sitting Duck" and Maddox. He tries to flag down one of Kitty's girls for a drink, and scratches the back of his leg with his other boot.

He makes eye contact with the railspike-wearing Ivers for a brief moment and tips his hat, content to bystand for a moment or two.

In reply to The Stray (msg # 1):

Zek waits outside the cabin, looking about with his shotglass monocle. Normally he is not so paranoid...somewhat, but the old man is too valuable to risk. Not to mention he knows what will happen once he gets Wild Bill to close to the old man. He pulls Bill aside to speak to him privately.

"Bill, before I take you to the old man, I gotta disarm you. It's not that I don't trust you...I don't trust it. The thing in my head tried to make me kill the old man too. They are scared of him...with reason. So we both have to be careful around him."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:35, Thu 02 Feb 2017.

Not trusting the vigilante as far as he could throw him, Logan made sure to stay close to Wild Bill as Zeke tried to maneuver him away for a private conversation,

---

OOC:

Listening in to what Zek is trying to tell Bill.

Notice: 5

16:20, Today: Logan West rolled 5,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,2.  Notice.

Leopold yawns. "Suddenly, there came a tapping..."
He runs his hands through his hair and makes sure he's presentable.
He grabs his shiny American revolver and keeps it hidden behind his back. He talks through the closed door:

"Sir, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you..."

... and opens the door a crack wide open to peer at his visitor, half-expecting a raven.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:52, Thu 02 Feb 2017.

The huge black man keeps looking around, as if he had never been to such a large town, a thin and mild smile on his lips.
"The Lord has guided his most humble servant to the right place. Moses can feel it! Here is where we will draw a line in the sand, where we will face Evil and shout in defiance: You Shall Not Pass!"

Belle tilted her hat brim up, and listened most carefully.  This had proven fruitful, but dangerous.

Her gloved hand went to a glass phial, which she slipped into position, for just in case.  She hoped not to use it.

The Marshal's eye contact was confusing, perhaps he wasn't too pleased about the Native's demeanor without having just cause to confront him yet?  That would be understandable.

It made her wonder who this Maddox was.  Ostensibly, the Union should be against private bounties, so the implications were quite strange.

Bryant looks over at James, confused. "What? In this weather?" he shakes his head. "No, if you want to commit suicide go buy your own damn horse. Seems hardly worth pullin' your hide off that pole if you're just gonna turn around and git yourself hitched right back up it."

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 7):

It's not a raven. It's a soldier, who looks rather perplexed. "Er...excuse me, sir?" he says. "You have a visitor downstairs? She says she has a package for you?" He seems completely taken aback by the Poe reference.

In reply to Ezekiel Starkweather (msg # 5):

Wild Bill nods. "Yup. Can't say as I blame you." He pulls out his pistol, and hands it, butt first, to Zeke. Then he turns and glares at Logan. "I beg your pardon? Ain't polite to eavesdrop."

In reply to Maddox (msg # 2):

"Five day ago." The Pawnee says gesticulating wildly as he tells his tale, "Sitting Duck and unit scout up near Náhkȯhe-vose." He points east. "The mountain white man call Bear Butte. There, cahk-suka Sioux surround us. She hide in rabbit hole on hill where we fight. She threaten Sitting Duck with knife, but we capture when greezy-az brujo call up Brother Earth and shake ground. We tie, but cahk-suka bitch call on Tahra." he shakes his head, stumbling over words. "Ba-fa-low. Tarha take her, other prisoner, back to cahk-suka Sioux. There was a nig-ga there, with Sioux. He take her to him. There was fight among cahk-suka Sioux. Greezy-az brujo killed, others leave. She go with nig-ga, and with them. To Náhkȯhe-vose."

((OOC: Curious to see what Maddox makes of all that...))

"Oh, is her name Lenore? Nevermind - thank you, my good boy. Please let the lady know that I will be downstairs in a moment."

He closed the door again and selected the light blue uniform jacket of the Austrian Landwehr. This particular dress coat was of the Kaiserjäger - the elite light infantry of the Imperial Army. It also had the distinction of being - by far! - the cleanest coat Leopold had. He truly had to get his coats cleaned. He had brushed the dirt and blood from the others, but they needed ironing. And one of them was still pretty wet.

Once properly dressed, he proceded downstairs, to meet with this mysterious woman and her packet.

Maddox squints in the manner of someone trying hard to decipher something. "You captured her and another prisoner five days ago, near Náhkȯhe-vose, but a bar fellow called Tarha and a negro rescued them? And these men were travelling with the Sioux?"

He nods slowly, it not being unheard-of for natives to adopt coloured men. "Have you got the things she stole? I'm willing to pay you for the information, see you, but Huang Li won't give you the money if you don't have the girl or the goods."

The Marshal nearly choked on his drink at Sitting Duck's phonetic attempts at profanity. He came down the stairs and finished off the hooch as he crossed the room. Normally, Matt wouldn't involve himself too heavily in a deal between the nations and the chinese, as long as nothing too untoward was happening, but this seemed like something he might need to keep abreast of.

Matt slouched up to the bar and kept listening.

In reply to Wild Bill Hickok (msg # 12):

Zek looked greatful, and then glared over at Logan when it was pointed out what he was doing. "Here, Lawman. Make yer self useful for a change." He pushed Bill's pistol,  and his own pistol and rifle into Logan's hands.

"Let's saddle up and get this done." He got started into the wilderness, getting on his horse and heading for the Coot himself.

Logan seemed surprise to suddenly find himself bristling with the firearms of Wild Bill and the vigilante, but he took them willingly and without complaint. As Wild Bill upbraided him for eavesdropping, he shrugged. 

"Mr. Starkweather over there was trying to talk up folks against law men back there after the saloon was on fire, as if there weren't a handful of us doin' our best to help folks," he said, turning to Zek.

"No offense meant, Mr. Starkweather but if you're talkin' down law dogs in a town filled to the brim with murder and chaos, I'm gonna be skeptical of your intentions as you are of mine. Now, on account of that we're here lookin' to see who we're gonna see…I can't be too sure about who's runnin' the show on your end. If your passenger starts drivin' at any moment, he would do well to set people against the law like you were doin' back there. Turn folks against those that are tryin' to maintain order amidst chaos. And then we agree to come over here together...and you start whisperin'…" he said.

"Bill, I thought you of all men would understand that sometimes a fella can't be too careful. Mr. Starkweather, you've put out some signs that you mean well back in the Bella Union and here just now," he hefted the guns. 

"But you've also openly declared your hostility to the law, and your willingness to commit...how do they say...extrajudicial violence against whoever you think is bad. So when you start hidin' your actions...I gotta take heed."

In reply to Logan West (msg # 18):

Zek spit off to the left, and narrowed his eyes at Logan once more as he turned his horse about to look at the man.

"And as you have decided a Whateley deserves more help than their victims or the people they try to kill right in front of yer face, so much so that you point guns at em-I will take that as clear evidence as to what sorta 'lawman' you are."

He growls a bit. "And I will keep talking about the many, many failures of the so called 'law'. Right to yer face. And there ain't nothing you can do about it. Ever." He glares at Logan.

"Plus...I don't recall inviting you on this little outing. Jackie's got a reason to be here, as does Bill and I. If your tender feeling are too sensitive for this trip-you can go any time you like."

He turns the horse and keeps it on the path.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:46, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

In reply to Moses (msg # 8):

[Language unknown: "Tha ardandoul nteureyin et ti."] Little Crow growls. [Language unknown: "Ti u u stilndar pron, terss linkorres fo ourlineve m ul oulestnde es om th omion ntiticain moive seulun."]

James nods and goes about seeing if he can find the horse he got brought in on or someone who might help him out.

OOC: didn't someone here have James's pistol? Or am I recalling things wrong?

In reply to James Wilder (msg # 21):

(OOC-Zek would have given you back Carter's pistol after the troop check point)

In reply to Ezekiel Starkweather (msg # 19):

"I don't need your invitation, vigilante, or your approval. I'm here on the request of Mr. Hickok," he said calmly. The other man might be slavering, growling, glaring, and spitting, but he saw no need to imitate the manner of a canine himself, composing himself instead with the dignity of his office. 

"You can run your mouth all you like," he said.  "I won't take no offense. Most criminals I've known like to run their mouths like you. I imagine I'll be tyin' off your noose sooner or later. Metaphorically speakin' of course. It'll likely have to be somethin' that takes," he said with a smile.

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 14):

Downstairs in the restaurant, there's a dumpy, brown-haired woman in men's clothes and a ratty bowler hat siting at a table. She's got a glazed look on her face, and she's got a small wooden box on her lap. She doesn't react until the soldier comes to shake her on the shoulder. "Ma'am?"

"I-I-I," She stammers, "H-have to g-g-give this to the German." She rustles the box a little. "I-I-I have t-to g-give this to the G-G-German."

The Pawnee shakes his head. "Sitting Duck does not have things. But Sitting Duck can take you there, track girl down." He grins. It is not a nice grin. "Yes. Sitting Duck will track girl down." He fingers the knife on his belt.

As it happens, Jimmy's there, packing up his horse. He looks at James. "Hey! You made it!" he grins. "What happened? I heard gunfire, and went to get help. Did you find Brett? Why's everyone saying Carter's in town?"

Maddox leans against the table and drums his fingers softly, frowning. "That's easier said than done - there's some kind of ceremony or meeting going on up there, see you, and I'm not going to be allowed to get close, white as I am."

"Also, she's wanted alive," he gives the knife a decidedly dubious look. "And you, I suspect, are wanted in the army, since it is that Custer's playing silly buggers and trying to take over the Nations. Let me think on it."

"Brett was in the saloon before things went crazy. As was Carter who challenged me to a duel tomorrow at noon. I have his gun, which seems to have some mojo on it, and it hurts anyone who isn't him who touches it."

Wild Bill shakes his head at Zeke. "Time and place, son. This is neither. I been down that vendetta trail you're ridin'. Went down it so far you had to fill me full o' goop just to drag me back. Don't go there yourself. Maybe if I'd come out and gotten help, talked to Bullock or Jackie before now, instead of livin' so far up my own ass, I'd have never gone rabid in the first place."

He follows alongside Zeke's nervous horse.

"You know," Broaddale interjected loudly, "No one asked me, but if someone were to ask me I'd have to saw this seems awfully like vigilantism. I don't claim to be any sort of enforcer of Sioux law, but has this Huang Li taken this up with Bullock? I can't see as hauling in illegal bounties with a wanted man will do anything for the stability of the region."

He turned to Sitting Duck and Maddox, and drew a bit closer, smiling like a jackass.

"He very likely would have done, if Bullock ever gave a damn about what the Chinese were doing," Maddox says wearily. "And neither you nor my dear cousin Nicodemus' warrant have any claim in the Nations, see you, nor is Deadwood officially United States territory. That would be why this town is full of outlaws and the occupation is bloody illegal an' all."

He turns his attention back to Sitting Duck. "-and you're sure she had the stolen things with her?"

In reply to Wild Bill Hickok (msg # 29):

Zek's expression softened a bit, but he is still frowning. "Bill, you know better than most what I am about to say. It ain't no accident nor fluke of nature you and I are the way we are. We where chosen because of what we can do-and what we were willing to do. That call was made by something else to craft a new weapon. None of us who follow the path we are on...we don't walk it for love, or mercy, or forgiveness."

He looks at the other man grimly, and then looks ahead. "Its because we lost those things-and its the only reason I am still here. Certainly not for the laws of rich men and the hired guns who they pin a badge on." He sighed, and tipped his hat to Jackie. "Even if that's not true for every badge wearer..."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:35, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

In reply to Ezekiel Starkweather (msg # 32):

"I ain't here to enforce rich men's laws." Jackie says. "I'm here to enforce the order needed to keep society from collapsin' and folk from eatin' each other, literally as well as metaphorically. I seen what happens when that ain't the case. That's why I'm always skeptical about folk claimin' they're followin' some 'greater good' when doin' evil shit. The ends don't justify the means -- the means are the very foundation of civilization. When that breaks down, ain't none of us more than two missed meals away from animals."

In reply to Jackie Wells (msg # 33):

"When the civilized world is built and made from the broken bodies those considered not worthy of joining the civilization in question, then the you gotta ask weather it was all worth it in the first place." Zek points out. "The old ways where here first-and they did not condone the crimes that the new ways used to make cities and towns and all the advances us whites enjoy."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:28, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

Broaddale's smile tightened very slightly for a second.

"Not exactly looking to get into a discussion on the legality of Custer's crusade. Suffice to say we are in agreement on that point." he said, gesturing to the barman for another drink, and laying down a bill, "Maddox, right? Maddox Whateley?"

He extended a hand in greeting to Sitting Duck.

"Names Broaddale. You are Sitting Duck?"

Sitting Duck shrugs. "Bag of talking leaves and money." He says in response to Maddox's question. He looks at Matt, snorts, and then hawks a spitball at the marshal's hand. "Sitting Duck talking. Broaddale cahk-suka can go to fuk-te-hel-off."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:49, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

"Well, I don't think Carter's gonna make it to noon." He looks over at the DMA. "Not if those folks have anything to say about it. Especially if you have his gun."

He pulls out a bundle. "Speaking which, Bryant gave this to me to had to you. Apparently he had it for safekeeping after he pulled us off those poles. Guess we don't have to trek back out into the Nations again looking for it."

Inside the bundle is a gunbelt...and the gun of James' father.

Matthew's smile tightened even more.

"Easy there, friend. No need for that.[Language unknown: Ichicheen noatpa, Memant areany-menear, passunom ndwint. Alssto liwil tancdi an llpr La.N. yin el anyul oun me thndek hoons lesousbut Asmail Ilsta."] he joked in Siouan. He wiped his spit-covered hand on his trousers took a sip of his drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:19, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

Leopold approaches her and offers his most reassuring smile, followed by a slight bow.
"My dear and good woman, I believe there is a small misunderstanding. I am not German, on the contrary - I am Austrian. However, I believe this package is for me, yes?"

Maddox gives Broaddale a look that says the unsought-for accusation of vigilantisim was  looking to get into something, but doesn't press the point. "Victor. Victor Maddox. They're distant cousins, see you, and we don't do that strange surnames-for-Christian names thing back in Wales."

He frowns at Sitting Duck's display, but merely tries to hold the man's attention. "Talking...leaves?"

"Broaddale cahk-suka shitting out of mouth." Sitting Duck says at Matt's display of linguistic proficiency. "Should watch that. Must make food taste bad, with that shit in your mouth. Unhealthy." He nods sagely, then looks back to Maddox and raises the wanted poster. "Talking leaf." He waves it for effect. "Leaf talks. White man listens."

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 39):

The woman stares at Von Steinhof dully, as if she's not really seeing anything around her. "I-I have t-to g-g-give this t-to the G-german." She says again.

Leopold presses his lips together and swallows his pride.

"Very well. I am *the* German. May I have the package?"

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 43):

The woman picks up the box and holds it out for Von Steinhof to take.

"Oh, right. Yes. Reading, that's called. The white man reads. Except I'd presume these papers would be in Chinese." He drums his fingers a few more times, then leans back and offers $20 across the table. "That's all I can give you for just words. I'll...let you know if I get the opportunity to go into that area, though if she's married this Tarha fellow or the negro she might be out of our reach, see you."

"Smart move, that," he adds under his breath, impressed.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

"Whiskey tastes good enough, and never had a lady complain, neither. Speaking of, what exactly is your interest in this woman, men? Is this really just as simple as a bounty on Huang Li's stolen goods? Seems like there's a personal element to it," he theorized in Sitting Duck's direction.

"He ain't lyin'," Daisy says, taking the next available barstool, still a little flushed and very happy.

"Broaddale cahk-suka still here, lips flapping in breeze like whore cunt." Sitting Duck growls as he snaps up the money. "Should go to fuk-te-hel-off, and die in fire."

((OOC: I don't think he likes Matt much.))
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Fri 03 Feb 2017.

Maddox tenses but says nothing in front of the rain-soaked and aggressive soldier, the drumming of his fingers slowing to an odd, unconscious pattern.

Daisy drops her rifle off her shoulder, just in case. [Language unknown: "Moou ne ndeaveant-atiame eiat n ureca, andratone ica? Me t, harea ofar ni ounate'somionsan unvir a, adsi M he art achis utilck no tedintain."]

Matt sighed and pushed off his barstool, swinging around to face Sitting Duck, very close.

"Now, I admit I butted in to your conversation with Vic here, Sitting Duck, and as my curiosity has been known to get me in trouble, I apologize for not introducing myself beforehand," he paused and took a long draw from his drink, slapped a gold dollar coin on the bar and glared with the shadow of death in his eyes at the Pawnee scout. "But allow me to flap my lips a bit more, and feel free to tell whichever traitor piece of shit gives you your orders, too. The Sioux nations are a sovereign one, and their continued peaceful alliance with the United States of America is very important to the continued health and peace of all of us on this continent. Deadwood is not a peaceful, healthful place on its best day, and this illegal invasion is not helping. I don't know if you've been around, but the last few weeks have been...trying.

I can't do anything about ghost stories or hysteria, but murder, assault, battery? I am very well equipped to handle. You go after blood in this town, and I'm coming off the bench. I will count coup on you seven times and pack you off to the Happy Hunting Grounds. In fact..." Matt cleared his throat, and looked around the bar at the few people, some harmless, some degenerate bastards who would contribute more to the health of the nation if they were six feet under it, and spoke a little louder, "you're all on notice. I'm back from vacation. Keep your hands off your weapons, Sitting Duck, or I'll drag you across the badlands to Illinois by your Mohawk."

OOC: that was wordy. Hopefully this doesn't make me look like a twat. Intimidation to put the fear of Marshal Broaddale in Sitting Duck. I'm sure it's not his fault he's an ass.
13:48, Today: Matthew Broaddale rolled 13,7 using d6,d8, rerolling max (((6+6+1)13,7)).

Daisy bites her lip, enjoying that voice, but doesn't set her rifle down.

James's face lights up like a kid a Christmas, "Seeing as I was bout to go get myself possibly strung up again going after this ..." He takes off the borrowed gun belt and replaces it with his own. "As for Carter, that man is a snake in the grass. I expect him to slip past all this and come after his pistol."

OOC: Now I'm thinking Trademark Weapon might be a better fit than Dodge ... dang it!

The black giant sniffs the air and tilts his head, as if listening.
"There was a fire here... and death. Moses knows that Little Crow will be glad to hear it, but the Spirits have been saddened by so many souls having perished.
And..." he licks his lips and smiles, "Good has triumphed against Evil. The fire consumed the servants of the Reckoners more so than the Champions of the Lord. It was a battle, yes, but as the battle Moses and Art and Little Crow fought - it was a victory for the right side."

He shakes his head, suddenly sad. "Children have died, too, Little Crow. Does your heart have only hatred for little children, too?"

Belle had been quiet to not signal her interest in all of this.  This had been fruitful, very fruitful.  She wasn't sure if it were going to be all that useful, but damned if this hadn't worked a treat.

Belle had learned some wonderful words in her rough trade, one of which was pissing contest.  She was watching one, that was for sure.

She was very careful not to gesture too much.  Belle was getting crazy ideas, but the speech of the bounty hunter(?) gave her pause.  Being visibly ethnically distinct did pose a certain problem.  Still, it might be worth inquiring.  She might be stuck in town looking for more "supplies" tonight after all.

She hadn't really moved, acted or reacted this whole time, but the foul mouthed Indian from before might put things in a bad way.  Belle still had that glass phial.  Casually she walked toward the exit in case this Pawnee didn't get the message, disinterested in all the happenings.

Leopold looks at the package to find a sender or some indication who it might be from.
"Who did you say asked you to give this to the German?"

((How big a package are we talking about? And if she's holding it towards me: does it look heavy?))

The box is a thin wooden crate, about the size one would expect a file cabinet to be. There's a label on it:



The woman just stands there, holding the box out to him, staring off into space.

Leopold accepts the package.

"Thank you, Miss...?"

In reply to Matthew Broaddale (msg # 51):

Sitting Duck's face screws up in a rage, and he balls his fists...but apparently thinks better of taking a swing. "Broaddale cahk-suka." He mutters, but there's not much force behind it. Instead he turns, and stomps out of the bar, kicking the door frame as he leaves.

((OOC: 23:38, Today: Sitting Duck rolled 3 using 1d8, rerolling max with rolls of 3.  Spirit. Yeah, Matt handily browbeats Sitting Duck.))

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 58):

As Von Steinhof takes the package out of her hands, the woman collapses.

In reply to Moses (msg # 54):

Little Crow shrugs. [Language unknown: "Comnt ratsomain ear hateraers miul sheenteau ateintany artblesti lat, mo ei nt lahe me eial ei at. Ei iowi me, redou panone ch ei unmaca taeiut er u ntll hationint, ll sient onsa icne fo a thena fortheent."]

Kills Iron Horse frowns, and looks away from Little Crow. She forces herself to stare at the burned ruins.

Walks The Night Alone shakes his head. [Language unknown: "Derma caiole daytedion unsirihe nte eenpl p menilling antri at issi ma ropabe lessetred, Enctictho She."]

Leopold rushes forward to catchher, awkwardly balancing the package.
The best he manages is slowing her fall.

"A doctor! Get a doctor!"

He kneels down next to her.

In reply to Old Ways Braves (msg # 61):

The prophet shakes his head.
"You say the words your masters would want you to say, Little Crow. But Moses can see into your heart. And Moses sees your words are empty and without conviction.
Kills Iron Horse and Walks the Night Alone already believe you to be evil incarnate. Moses knows you are not.
So who are you trying to convince, Little Crow? Yourself? "

In reply to Ezekiel Starkweather (msg # 34):

"Zeke," Jackie sighs, "You been burned. I get that. But what makes you any better? Since I met you, I ain't heard nothin' but scorn and condemnation. But tell me honestly...how clean are them hands o' yours?"

"Now, I ain't sayin' you're wrong, not entirely. But I've seen anarchy. I seen men kill each other for a scrap o' food, a handful o' bullets, or a jug o' Spook Juice." Jackie waves her hand to encompass the town. "You say this here civilization ain't worthy. I say that I've gone through the alternative. I've seen the before and the after. I've been places that make Deadwood here look like the Golden Halls o' Paradise. So yeah. You see things about the system you don't like. Fair enough." She pokes Zeke in the chest. "But start bein' part of the fuckin' solution, instead o' part of the problem. 'Cause you ain't the only one that lives here. We're all in this together."

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 62):

The soldiers who'd been watching this odd occurrence spring into bumbling action, colliding with each other as they rush off to find a medic.

The woman is unconscious, but still breathing.

After a few minutes, a soldier with a red cross patch heads over to the fallen. "I've got her." he says as he pulls her out of Von Steinhof's grasp. "Give me some space and let me have a look. What happened?"

"She fell. She has brought me this package. She did not seem to be well, doctor. She almost said no word, then fell to the ground when she gave the package to me. Will she be fine?"

Leopold seems genuinely worried.

That swine, Sebastian...

The medic examines her eyes. "Mismatched pupils. She fell, you say?" he says. "Hmm...and she was confused? Hardly said anything?" He checks her pulse, then starts pressing his fingers along the woman's head. "Ah. There's trauma here." he says. "Concussion, I would wager. A blow to the skull, rattling the brain around."

The woman groans a bit.

"She needs food and rest, but as long as she gets those she should make a full recovery. Provided she avoids reinjury." The medic says. "Keep her away from spirits -- they retard the healing process. You'll want to wake her every few hours to make sure she isn't slipping into a coma."

"And who would that 'you' be, Herr Doctor?" Von Steinhof raises his eyebrows.
"Do you not have a room and a nurse to watch her?"

In reply to Jackie Wells (msg # 64):

Zek shrugged at Jackie ' s statement. "Did you hear me call myself the paragon of virtue and humanity? In fact, I seem to recall just now how I was saying I was a vengeful, angry piece of shit." He paused and touched the birm of his hat. "Pardon my french."

"But when you say there is only anarchy or civilization...that just ain't so. Your forgot the third way - the Indian way. This is thier land, we live under thier traditions weather we know it or not. It's their anger and vengeance why people like the Whateley's use their power they way do, why inhuman monsters hunt the land for all peoples,  and why Bill and I are talking to you right now. "

He shook his head.  "If you wanted a just society and decent people running it,  you should have been here before the whites showed up. I have seen that place, heard it's stories, and stood in the presence the people such a place produces. Felt the mercy and kindness I did not deserve...and saw it taken by force. " his voice sounded soft and reverent as he spoke of such a time.

Then he catches himself, and the growl returns. "And as long as the scales are not balanced,  and as long as we stand on the corpses of the true children of this land - the things that foul the hunting grounds will remain. And I will be here - going after them...and the people who brought us to this sorry state." He narrowed his eyes.

"And the funny thing is...I think you agree in a way.  You are not wearing your star. I think you know the difference between natural justice and white man's laws."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:43, Sun 05 Feb 2017.

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 68):

The medic shrugs. "I got tents full of wounded men to look after. Men who are in agony. Men who've been filled with arrows, stabbed with spears, caught shrapnel from too-close cannonballs, and a whole host of other injuries from the battle with the Sioux. I don't have the space nor the manpower to look after one concussed woman, but as I understand things you have a room here. She's stable right now, and I have to get back to my other patients. You'll have to put her up until she's well enough to travel on her own, I'm afraid, or you can search this town and see if there's a sawbones who can do so. Either way, this is all I can do for her at the moment."

In reply to Ezekiel Starkweather (msg # 69):

"I ain't wearin' a star 'cause technically I ain't a deputy anymore." Jackie says. "Not 'cause I don't believe in it. And yeah, you're right in that I do believe there's a difference between justice and the law. But I also believe that the ends don't justify the means. For anyone. And that includes the natives as well as the whites. And that includes you." She sighs. "But I need to talk to Coot. He's got to know some things I know. Things that might just save this world from the mess it's in."

Belle kept moving, relieved that the angry Pawnee was leaving, and went to lean on a rail because that's what people did right?

She had to talk to Dandy Don, but she couldn't do it this minute.   That would be highly suspicious.  She had to stand out here a while so the Marshal who had confronted the ornery troublemaker wouldn't connect the dots.  He seemed like a nice man and really didn't need to be drug into this.

"This is... highly unusual."
He looks down at the woman, then sighs in defeat.
"Well, fine. You two," he addresses two soldiers, "go on, pick her up and carry her to my room. But careful, please. You do not want to end up in the good doctor's tents, yourself, yes?"

He picks up the package and leads the way to his room.

"It is what it is." The medic says with a shrug. "I'll look in on her in a few days."

The soldiers nod at Von Steinhof and pick up the woman as gingerly as they can manage. They all head up to the room.

Broaddale watched the Pawnee go, then relaxed. He turned back to the bar, pausing only to give Daisy an affectionate ruffle of the hair. He looked to Maddox, then put another bill on the bar and spoke to Dandy Don.

"Another for Maddox, Daisy and myself, sir," He said as he finished his drink.

"Well, Mr. Maddox. I'm sorry I lost my cool a bit, but a fella can only get called a cocksucker so many times before it starts to eat at him. Have a drink on me. If you're really looking for work, the U.S. government pays better than Iron Dragon, I promise."

In reply to Union Troops (msg # 74):

Leopold directs the soldier to put the woman on the bed, then asks them to get Lieutenant Haverford.
Once they leave, he sits down on a chair, crosses his legs and lights a cigarette to pass the time while he waits.

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 76):

Haverford arrives a couple minutes later, and takes in the room. "Well, I'll be damned." he says when he sees the woman. "Do you know who that is?"

In reply to Jackie Wells (msg # 71):

"That's another lesson I learned a long time ago. What you believe don't matter." He paused and shrugged, spitting to the left of his horse's shoulder as they traveled.

  "What I believe don't matter. Even what Bill believes don't matter. Sure as hell what the lawman back there believes never amounted to a hill of dung beetles." He said dismissevly.

"Only our pride leads us to think the world should spin the way we say, and what should meet our tender feelings. There was only one group who's beliefs held back an ocean of darkness wanting to cover the land...all the lands."

He glanced back at Jackie. "And you know what we did to them...because we are selfish children who can't share. Ever."

"If the Coot knew how to fix human nature, I think he would have said something to a lot of people by now..." He shrugs, and keeps riding.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:22, Sun 05 Feb 2017.

"I am afraid there were no proper introduction." He blows a smoke ring towards the ceiling.
"But I believe you may be able to help?"

Maddox comes up to join Matt at the bar with a sigh. "Thanks. I was hoping he'd take himself off rather quieter when he was paid, see you." He just nods to the generic whiskey bottle held up by the barkeep, settling, and gives the Marshal that tired look.

"The part of the United States that's here presently - where I am firstly needing to be paid to stay in lodging, and secondly have been making some attempt at bringing genuine law and stability to - is not exactly one I'm keen to be working for. As for the girl...it's less that I'm cozying up to Huang Li because I want in with Iron Dragon, more because I'd like to get the Celestials integrated with the rest of the town."

"If Huang Li goes down as it's looking like he might with this series of disgraces, well there is going to be some chaos among the Triads, I can tell you that. It's not a good contract, no, but if I find the whore, I can get back Huang Li's papers, and stabilise the Chinese situation. I don't want her flayed." He rubs his jaw and takes a drink, addressing the bottom of his glass. "Which is why I'm making it very clear she's my case, because if I drop it, see you, then Huang Li would send his own men after her. And they would catch, rape, and kill her, and bring back only the skin."

Matt manages to avoid laying his fingers open on that vicious little razor coiled up with Daisy's off-blonde tresses this time, but she gives him a grin as she re-shoulders her rifle just the same. Kitty wordlessly brings her some beans and hardtack from the back moments after her drink hits the bar, apparently amused.

"Thanks, honey," Daisy responds gleefully, and hauls a fork out of what would be her cleavage if she were wearing push-up corsetry (or had a lot more to push up) to slide along the bar surface to Matt in case he wants some.

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 79):

"We are currently in the presence of Calamity Jane Canary, star of a dozen exaggerated dime novels and person of interest in the attack and burning of the Gem Theater." Haverford says. "I thought you were supposed to be seeking our missing materials. Last I heard, you were following a lead, but now another building's gotten blown up, and you have a wanted felon snoozing on your bed. I need details."

Lonefeather nods. "Possible, but we can hope otherwise. So what's next? You gonna join in the hunt?"

[Language unknown: "Ti casa eenichund ul n tioomebut."] The brave grumbles.

[Language unknown: "Esic e wertioratcom."] Kills Iron Horse says. [Language unknown: "U osat o onsanyion hiin oveei yintercon Ti Ionughlattio Ushou Peenno.a Asher k olho pe ersri ti, riet?"]

Moses nods. "Yes. The Woman Who Remembers The Future. We find her, and then Moses will have to keep a promise."

In reply to Lieutenant Haverford (msg # 82):

"Ah, I have heard about her. I doubt that she had anything to do with anything, though. I mean, look at her - the woman is a mess. Concussion, apparently."
He takes another drag from his cigarette and uses it to point toward the brown package.
"She delivered this. I would say not by her own free will or choice. Somebody did something to her."

He gets up and pulls a small pocket knife from his coat. He flips the blade open and carefully cuts through the paper cover.

With his cigarette between his lips, he mumbles: "You might want to take cover. This could easily be a bomb."

Logan listened quietly to the conversation between Zek and Jackie, taking it in.

"I respect that there's a certain nobility about the way of the natives, but I think you might be puttin' too fine a shine on it if you think it was share and share alike before the white man got here. It don't excuse the shit we've done, but they did each other plenty wrong before the Pilgrims got on the Mayflower. Why do you think the Apache and the Tonkawa scouted for the army before the war broke out? It was 'cause the Comanche tortured and raped them whenever they won a battle, and had been doin' that for years. I reckon there's a similar story explainin' why the Pawnee are still scoutin' for the Union up around these parts. We may not've done 'em any favors, but apparently the Sioux did 'em worse. White or native, we're all a little fucked up, but you can try to be a part of the solution or you can be a part of the problem," he said.

"If you think havin' no respect for the law makes you special, think again. There's a million out there like you. You'd be in fine company with the likes of Darius Carter. But that doesn't excuse your ignorance on how it's done properly. We bring people in for trial, and let the courts sort it out. We don't fancy ourselves executioners. If someone makes me pull, I will put 'im down like I woulda done for that cocksucker Darius Carter, but that don't mean I excuse myself from tryin' to take him in proper, and I think Mr. Hickok here will tell you the same. He's been a law man himself," he said, he said, nodding to Wild Bill. 

"So as you see, I can't just shoot a man to death because some asshole pops out of the ground in the middle of a bar fight and start layin' into him with glowin' red hands. I don't know what business passed between y'all, but as far as I saw, after you busted in there out of the ground, and did your thing with Mr. Hickok for which we're all eternally grateful, you came over and started layin' into him unprovoked," he said. 

"As far as Roger Sebastian goes, I don't trust the sonuvabitch as far as I can throw him, but he's a witness in a federal investigation. We need information outta him, and you killin' him in some grudge match in the middle of a saloon woulda jeopardized the whole damn thing," he said.

"All in all though, I think you're better than that, Mr. Starkweather. I've seen what you did for Mr. Hickok here. You're tryin' to do the right thing, and that's good, even if your record is somewhat marred. But make no mistake, if you just start murderin' folks, you'll become no different than Darius Carter, taking the law into your own hands as you please, answerable to no man but yourself, and that makes you a danger to society. You can rage on, and tell yourself whatever stories it takes to justify your behavior, but if you keep goin' the way you are, you'll become the thing you seem to hate," he said.

"Now, after we finish up this thing here with Mr. Hickok and the old man, I'll be going after Roger Sebastian again now that he's managed to abscond. If you can postpone your grudge match with him until my investigation is wrapped up, I'd appreciate it," he said. "In the meantime, if you can come up with some evidence of his wrong doing, you can present it to me if it's a federal matter or Mr. Bullock, and we can proceed with an investigation."

The Marshal chewed on Maddox's words as he sipped his whiskey. The Welshman made sense.

"You're a smart man, Maddox. As I said earlier, a united, uncomplicated Deadwood is a Deadwood that helps both the Sioux and the Union. If keeping Huang Li in charge keeps Celestial Alley running smoothly, I suppose it's important we find this woman and the things she stole," he said, "Assuming she hasn't burnt them for kindling, out there on Bear Butte. Speaking of, this woman seems pretty out of reach if she's sitting up in those mountains. Unless you know something I don't."

"Wasn't plannin' on it. Running around in this mess isn't gonna do me much good tomorrow."

In reply to Logan West (msg # 87):

He rolled his eyes at the Lawman's words, but did not bother to look at him. "If you think I claimed the natives where perfect-you where not listening. I never claimed that-I said their beliefs mattered. Their beliefs kept all this inhuman power chained and held.

Nor did I say my lack of respect for the rich man's laws made me special. Yes, I imagine many have little respect for laws written by and for the rich. They mostly live in your work camps, and your jails, and eventually, mass graveyards. See, its too difficult for your masters to make people work for nothing anymore.

But you know what they do have, Lawman? People like yourself-believing whole hardly that the law serves everybody. That the law is about justice. That the law somehow protects poor and rich alike.

Except its never worked that way-at least for the for the most part. Granted I will admit to the exception like Bill and Jackie-but you? You made sure another Whateley goes free-after he blasted me and the thing in the middle of the room. Let me guess-if he shot me with a gun, and claimed it was an 'accident', you would still defend that no good rattlesnake because you-and your so-called 'justice', comes first. Everybody else second.

And that means-everything the Whateley does, every life he steals, every soul he corrupts-that's on you."

He gestures to the wilderness outside of town as they moved. "You see this out here, Lawman? This is another place that don't give a shit-beg pardon Jackie-about your law. It don't care how many rich men write down bits of paper what they say is theirs, and how anybody should act, and who carries a dumb little metal star. Its been here forever, while you and your stupid, hateful, self centered law is just a short term infection. As for me, I have seen your law fail time and again to ever trust its ways with the people and things I care about."

In reply to Ezekiel Starkweather (msg # 90):

"You keep sayin' the name Whateley like it's supposed to mean something to me, but it honestly doesn't," he said.

"Do you have some evidence the man's committed a crime, or you just like to let your mouth run?" he said.

In reply to Logan West (msg # 91):

"You mean, like after he tried to death mojo Bill and me, and then admitted to knowing me when I came over to repay the favor? Claiming innocent him and his poor put upon clan? I know you saw that-ya mentioned the red glowing hands. Then he wondered off-thanks to you and Fritz, and most likely blew up a haunted saloon full of people."

He shook his head. "I got nothing to prove to Lawmen who work with the Whateley. If you don't even know the name, you don't have the ability to sense their crimes. The dead remember what happened to them-and they know who robbed them of life."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:40, Mon 06 Feb 2017.

"Unfortunately not, and it sounds like she's found herself another foreigner, already settled with the Sioux." Maddox rubs his temples one-handed, fighting a headache from the smoke inhaled earlier. "If anyone could find Charley Bull, see you, I could maybe get a message to her husband or this Tarha fellow rather than hunting her down, but thanks to bloody Custer just about all the natives that frequent town have taken to the hills."

He stops rubbing his head and drums his fingers on the bar, then looks across at Matt. "At the very moment, however, I think our problem would be Darius Carter. It's probably too much to hope that Custer would properly try him before hanging him, and in fairness I'm not too upset about that, but if our tinpot general leaves off the execution some days on account of having an invasion to run, my bet would be that Carter's friends in the hills would hit one end of town to spring him from the other." He sighs.

"-and we were so close to getting him, damn it." He downs the rest of his drink. "Getting prisoners on trains being the other reason it's good to keep Iron Dragon at least a little sweet, see you."

"Death mojo?" he asked, looking honestly confused, looking to Wild Bill for confirmation. "Maybe you can weigh in on this, Mr. Hickok."

"When the most notorious gunhand in the west is shooting at you, Mr. Starkweather, there's not much time to sit around and take in the scenery. As Mr. Hickok's first shot grazed me, I saw fit to take shelter behind the bar and not give him time for a second which would surely plant me in my grave, with the aim of playing possum until he moved on. As you might imagine, that position and view made it a little difficult to observe any such death mojo, and the distance and chaos made it hard to hear your intimate conversations with the man," he said.

"By the time I rose to my feet, you had done your work with Mr. Hickok, and were proceeding to lay into Roger Sebastian with extreme violence and glowin' red fists, and then my Austrian friend had a gun on you, but hadn't fired. I had to make a quick judgment, and warnin' you off was about as good as I could do. That's the extent of what I witnessed. Of course, as far as you're concerned, I could have been blindfolded and in another room until that point and it wouldn't matter much, since I'm a law man and as such in league with every dastardly villain from here to Shan Fan."

"But that's all neither here nor there, I suppose. What I'm working on is much bigger than your feud with this big city dandy Roger Sebastian. The last thing I need is to have to deal with someone interfering with my investigation, and killing someone that has key information to taking down something much bigger than you know. I really just don't want to have to have new Wanted posters put up for a new vigilante murderer we have on our hands. I don't want to have to call in favors with my friends in the Union Army - you know the ones I served with and just convinced to let us go and not have us detained and disarmed, and the ones I got to put on a look out for Darius Carter? - those friends. I don't want to do any of those things, but if someone interferes in my case, I will. All I want to do is my job, and then take the first train out. And after I leave, well, if anyone should want to be a vigilante murderer with no regard for the law who imposes his own version of justice on Deadwood and anyone he deems a criminal, well that'll be someone else's problem."

"I think it was that trick he done with his shadow." Hickok says. "But I was a bit too busy comin' to my senses at the time to really notice."

"That would be the same 'death mojo' that done killed the cloud thing, yes?" Jackie says. "'Cause I saw that. And he was throwin' that shit around before you popped out o' the floorboards. And I do recall him given' you the opportunity to duck." She scowls. "I do know the name Whateley. Better'n you, I expect. You don't get to pass judgement on anyone, man nor woman, on account o' their name. And now you're puttin' me in the position of defendin' the bastard. But the fact that you're here spewin' vitriol about the Whateleys when you went out o' your way to try to help Bill here when he was doin' worse -- no offense, Mr. Hickok -- means that this ain't about anythin' they've done to anyone else. You're mad at 'em for somethin' personal. All this other stuff you're spewin' is just rationalization."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:31, Mon 06 Feb 2017.

"Well, that's the plan. no time like the present to put Carter paid, and I'm surprised you don't want to come, since I haven't heard a word about him out of you that wasn't pure hate."

Dandy Don, for his part, is watching the conversation between Matt and Maddox with interest.

Daisy Hewitt, meanwhile, is eating beans with the same enthusiasm she seems to apply to most things under her attention.

In reply to Jackie Wells (msg # 95):

He looked back at Jackie. "I'm not going after every Whateley-just the ones hell bent to run things around here-and willing to kill anyone who gets in their way. Hell, Maddox is a Whateley and you don't see me going after him. Given that track record-don't expect me to buy it was all big accident him shooting his mojo in Bill's and my direction. If it had not fizzled out, and you had been in my place-and gotten hurt-or worse-what would you do? Chances are he just thought he hit the two, or three, for one sale."

Haverford's eyes go wide and he backs up against the wall...but luckily, there's no explosion.

The box is filled with file folders, dozens of them, as well as a neatly handwritten note laying on top.

He shot a dubious loom at Jackie after Zek's explanation but didn't question his account of things.

"Let's see the old man and get this over with," he suggested.

"Darius Carter," Matt muttered, "The man partially responsible for the Bella Union fire? He was working alongside Roger Sebastian, wasn't he? I've got words for him too. Well, more a set of cuffs than words."

Matt finished off his drink and sneaked a bean off Daisy's plate.

"Charley Bull? Could look around, see if he's hiding out somewhere? Has Bearclaw skipped town?"

ooc: Common Knowledge Bull All The Time?
13:15, Today: Matthew Broaddale rolled 12,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max (((8+4)12,2)).

In reply to Mr. Roger Sebastian Whateley (msg # 100):

Leopold goes through the files and folders, picking one up at random and reading it.
"What do you intend to do with her, my dear lieutenant?" he asks, trying to get the other man to focus on the patient.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 21:55, Mon 06 Feb 2017.

"He probably set some of the fire, I would think. Blew up his own man when the back went up, see you, and my cuffs," he says ruefully.

"For once I don't think Sebastian was involved directly...Carter isn't subtle, from what I've heard - which is nasty stuff, all of it. He's a piece of work, he is, and I fear for outliers in the neighbourhood. That's too much attention for Sebastian's tastes. I don't know why they were associating there, could be just the fanciest place for a drink and some cards, see you, but it's possible Carter has something on Sebastian."

Maddox shrugs. "There's a lot of 'around', is the trouble, and not much of it the white man is welcome in. Calamity Jane might have known, but she went nuts and started shooting up the Gem with that Hickock fellow in a drunken haze, and my cousins 'vanished' her, however they did that...that you can get Sebastian for, if you can work out what to charge him with at all. As for Bearclaw, if he's still here I've not seen him for days...keeping his head down I'd warrant, and don't blame him."

The gunslinger sighs as he looks over the lunacy going on around him. "Problem here is, big group like this ain't gonna find a snake like Carter. He's been outrunning posses this for longer than either of us has been alive." James shifts bullets from the borrowed gunbelt to his returned on as he talks. "No, it'll be a much smaller group that would have any chance of gettin' Carter. None of this beat the bushes crap... still you're probably right, ain't gonna do no good sitting round here waiting of him. Sides me having his shooin' iron'll draw him out..."

"Sebastian is wanted for a bit more, which I'm sure you aren't surprised by. He also disappeared Jack McCall, who I also need to arrest. Seems like there's a whole lot of need to's and a dearth of can."

"Not in the least," Maddox replies. "But I heard McCall was done in by the purple worm cultists that burned down the jail, see you, so that's one less person needing arrest. Mind you, you could maybe take that with a pinch of salt, since the next thing the folk I heard that from said was that he'd turned into some kind of un-dead monster. I know I can be a bit dime-novel at times - it's how I learnt about the American culture and all, I admit it - but I don't think I'd go quite so far as to believe in all that. 'Nother round?" He reaches to pay for the same if it's wanted.

"At this point, I just don't want anyone else to die," he remarks of the tasks before them, flicking over what bills he has left.

Noticing Belle, he gives her a look of mild recognition as the woman who Scienced the fire, one that's open to her joining them if she wishes.

In reply to James Wilder (msg # 105):

"Well maybe we can catch him on our own. You've been following him longest -- if you were him, and trying to evade a posse, where would you go to ground?"

In reply to Matthew Broaddale (msg # 102):

((OOC: From what Matt remembers, Charlie Bull and a nasty DMA thug named Bald Don (called that because he survived a scalping) argued at the Langrishe Theater just a day or so after the "Sioux attack" that left a dozen miners dead. The theater often runs performances of Shakespeare, and this particular performance was Titus Andronicus, which some around town felt was in poor taste after the bloody attack.

Charlie Bull confronted Bald Don in the street after the performance after the DMA thugs started loudly proclaiming all the Sioux in town should be rounded up and "baked into pies like those two fellas from the play." Charlie Bull responded that "if you want to find Rape and Murder, you ought to look in the mirror," which went down about as well as you'd expect. He then went on to say that maybe they should be out hunting "those Ghost Miners you always say are causing problems." Since he'd loudly accused the DMA of faking the "Ghost Miner" haunting in the past, this was tantamount to accusing the Deadwood Miners Alliance of being responsible for the attack.

Bald Don said he'd "shut the red nigger up for good this time," and the two got into a fight that Bullock and his deputies had to break up. Bald Don swore that he'd soon "wear a toupee made from your fuckin' flea-ridden scalp!" and had to be restrained.

It was shortly after that that word started to spread that Bald Don was offering a bounty on Charlie Bull's scalp, and Bull up and vanished, probably heading for his kin in the Black Hills. Hes got a cabin up near Mount Rushmore, but only his friends (like Calamity Jane) would know exactly where.

Joseph Bearclaw is still maintaining the Office of Mining Affairs, but hasn't been seen in public in a week or so. Wrong Horse Takes His Own Scalp, one of the only other Sioux in town, sells pemmican of dubious provenance from a food cart and is generally thought of as harmless, so he hasn't really been molested much.))

In reply to James Lonefeather (msg # 108):

James finishes filling his gunbelt and nods, "Well typically it would be somewhere with good bourbon and women but with this much heat ... he's probably gone to ground at whatever hole The Wild Bunch uses as its base or the nearest set of bandits ." He checks over his pistol in a quick and learned manner, making sure everything about the weapon is in order.

"Nothing, for the moment." Haverford says. "I'm more interested in maintaining the confidentiality of the files. Which means I'm going to have to insist you stop reading those. Right now."

Von Steinhof smiles.
"You know, I believe a 'Thank you, Major!' would be in order."
He drops the file back and picks up the note, carefully folding it.

"And you are most welcome. They are not complete, I'm afraid, but if you don't want my help, you'll have to figure out by yourself what is missing.
In addition", he paused and wandered idly over to the porträt hanging on the wall, "I thought we would be partners in this endeavour."


07:33, Today: Freiherr von Steinhof rolled 12,13 using d8+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of (8+2)10,(6+5)11.  Notice, Alertness.
Checking to see if someone is currently listening in on us.

There's no activity from the peephole, which is good.

Haverford sighs. "While I appreciate your assistance -- and believe me, I do very much appreciate it -- the fact remains that you are an agent of a foreign power, and these files represent sensitive state secrets. If you were in my position, would you allow me to peruse the secrets of Austria-Hungary?"

In reply to Lieutenant Haverford (msg # 113):

"My dear Haverford - if we deal in hypotheticals, rest assured that I wouldn't have allowed those files to be stolen in the first place."
He shrugs.

The Marshal nods for one more drink, and mulls over Maddox's words.

"Well then, I suppose Jane Canary is the key to finding Sebastian, Charley Bull and if I remember back at the fire, McCall's gun. And my suitcase, which was in Fairchild's," he finally said, "Hell. Maybe we'll find Carter if we're lucky."

Matt pushed his drink over to Daisy and stood.

"I've got another idea about how to find Charley Bull, but it's a long shot. I suppose we could ask around for Jane, too."

Katy had taken it on herself to do a little bit of scouting for the small group as they headed toward their destination. The conversation about law an how to discharge it interested her greatly, unfortunate that she wasn't able to put her two cents in while the argument raged.

She did hear something about Whateleys as she trotted her horse back to the others, and nodded her agreement with Jackie. "Bein' a Whateley don't automatically make a person bad. Just seems ta give 'em higher odds. Like that bitch that shot me in the back. O'course that Whateley what shot me was called upon by Nicodemus ta kill this fella." She indicated Zek. "As fer Roger Sebastian, I ain't got nuthin' on him. Yet."

She looked over at Zek who seemed to have a lot of Whateley knowledge. "Don't s'pose ya know anything about Elmira Whateley? She's someone I'd like ta chat with. Eventually."

OOC: I assume a trip to the outskirts and then heading to this Prospecter would mean it's reasonable for Katy to be mounted. Let me know if otherwise.

"This do be why we are here. No that we have any idea where she be. An' I dinnae think we have a name." He looked over to Moses. "Any spiritual guidance ya can get fer findin' oracles? If no, then we may need ta try findin' folk that'll talk."

Art reached down and pet Kira, running his left hand across her fur as his right held the shillelagh.

Maddox swivels around on his stool, not one-shotting his drink just yet. "Oh? What's that then, and do you not want Wells in on it?" He looks at his glass. "Or unlucky, sure enough - he's got some kind of old-fashioned armour on under his shirt, by the way."

Daisy palms the drink without comment, but leans back and hooks two fingers in Matt's belt loop as he steps away. "Hey, look me up if you git lonely sometime, y'hear?"

Matt nodded.

"Wells is a whole 'nother can of worms. She's run off to the Prospector, so I'll have to talk to her later. There's only one other Indian feller in town. I figure he might know Charley Bull and where he's at, but of course that's just a hunch."

When Daisy grabbed him, he smiled and gave her hip a squeeze. "I'll be sure to. Keep your nose clean, yeah? Put that silver to good use."

He turned back to Maddox.

"I'll be sure to aim for his noggin, then."

Haverford raises an eyebrow. "No one allowed these files to get in the wind, Major, and I will thank you not to besmirch the memory of the people who have died because these fell into the wrong hands. I notice that you still did not answer my question. Am I to to take your arrogance as proof that you should not be further involved in this matter?"

In reply to Catherine Hays Cox (msg # 116):

"To be fair to her, she only shot ya after you said you were a Ranger." Jackie says. "She did say a Ranger put that hole in her face. That's liable to make any ghost sort o' ornery."

Zek leads the group back to the Woolly Buffalo. Inside the saloon, Nat Love serves a large black man in confederate grays and a fella all wrapped in bandages. Nat grins at Zeke. "Well, well! Good to see ya again! What'll ya have?"

The big black guy turns and looks at the group...and grins. "Well, I'll be damned if it ain't Katy Cox! How you doin'?"

Maddox raises an eyebrow. "It's possible, I suppose..." he looks at his drink again. "I'm not sure I'm drunk enough for Wrong Horse's pemmican-inna-bun, see you." He downs said drink. "Yet. All right. I suppose we can make it back here if Wells is taking her time over it all."

He sets the glass neatly on the bar and stands to go with Matt.

Daisy gives one of those lithe little movements that shifts his touch up her side as he lets go. "Ah have been well-cautioned as I ever was, and surely will," she says, favouring him with a grin.

Maddox looks a little dubious at her as they move on, but makes no comment.

Katy smiled slightly at Jackie's response. "So...by Jackie's logic...it's okay ta shoot anyone that's named Whatley, Zek. Carry on as ya were."

---

Katy wasn't certain what to expect at the Woolly Buffalo, but it sure wasn't this. She did a double-take when she saw the man's features. The voice and the appearance both fit. "You'll be damned? I'll be damned. That really you, Kingsnake? Weird sorta rumor going around that ya got lynched. If ya gotta few moments, wouldn't mind hearin' what ya've been upta. And what the hell happened back in Kansas." In less than a day, she'd caught up with Carter, Logan, Wells, Wilder, and now the Kingsnake. Apparently Texians loved them some Deadwood. Who would be the next to show up?

Leopold raises his eyebrows. "Arrogance? My dear Haverford, I am only teasing you. Do you really believe my intent was to 'steal' the United States secrets? I did tell the men to go fetch you as soon as we were up here and I opened the package in front of you."

He drops what remains of the cigarette butt into an ashtray, then breaks the silence. "I do apologize for my distasteful manners, though. You have lost friends and comrades and I did not mean to offend you." He looks straight into the younger man's eyes and there is no sense of irony or sarcasm in his demeanor.

He continues: "You will remember that you asked for the support from the Empire, which I happily provided. At much risk to my personal safety, I might add. I was promised that the United States would recognize the support of His Majesty's representatives with some sort of... quid pro quo. I am not pressing the matter, but I do hope that I am not the only one remembering it."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:31, Tue 07 Feb 2017.

Mose pursed his lips and looked up into the sky for a moment, then he chuckles.
"You are right as always, Lord. Your most humble servant was not thinking."
He turns to Art.
"The Woman Who Remembers The Future will be where all people are who are drifting, wandering, be it through the land,... or through time."
He points to a nearby building. "A place to rest and have something to eat. Something to drink."

Art pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth for a moment. You didn't need divine inspiration to know that going to a saloon would be a good place to chat. He literally bit his tongue behind closed lips to keep from saying something flippant.

"Yah, that do sound, er, wise. But I do no think it be wise to bring, er, yer whole flock? With us. That be invitin trouble o'the kind we don't be needin."

Belle crooked her neck at Dandy Don.  That was a sign.  Not a Men in Black Dusters kind of sign, but a sign between two people who had known each other a very long time, even if they had been separated for a few years in between visits.

And then she heard about the worms and all that went out the window.  Belle despite herself was becoming the easily distracted type.

"A thousand pardons sirs, if I may interrupt your discourse with your kind permission?  Thank you."   There was no pause for consent to be obtained either from Maddox or the Marshal.  "I heard you discussing the unfortunate matter of... worms?  Yes?  I had the grievous misfortune earlier today of discussing that nasty phenomenon with a chillingly insane individual with a too rabid fixation on Poe.

"Belle Ivers, currently in the employ of Iron Dragon.  I was here for some supplies, as my employer has this remarkable idea I converse more easily in English than others and am a bit less likely to be overcharged.  I was trying to find one of our missing workers, who could have gotten mixed up in the whole business.  I don't suppose either of you know anything about missing rail workers?  It would do a lot of good if I could give their associates and possibly families some closure."

Jackie opens her mouth, then apparently thinks better of whatever she was about to say, and chuckles ruefully.

---

The big man pulls at the bandana around his neck. "Well, they certainly did try." He says as he reveals a rope burn around his neck. "Rum Tum Tugger still had friends up in Lawrence, the kind o' friends who still harbor a grudge over Quantrill's raid and don't take kindly to negros who wear the Gray. They seemed to think I owed Abraham Lincoln somethin'. Yankees. Go figure." He shrugs and waves to Nat for a drink, then hands it over. "Anyhow, I been travelin' with the fella who dug me out o' that mess. He goes by the name o' Coot. He's an odd duck -- roams around the West." he grins. "He's settin' up a Society for the Preservation and Advancement o' the Differently Alive. SPA-DA for shot."

The man in bandages next to him just groans. "Oh, Christ. Not that again."

Jackie, hearing this, just breaks out laughing.

"Sounds like an interesting club. We'd like to meet this Coot fella. Word is, he's got some kinda tonic that alleviates a particular sort of ailment, and we know a fella that's got that certain type o' head cold," he said. "You know, gotta make sure it don't come back and all."

Katy shook her head at the revelation of Kingsnake's, er, mortal death? She'd had some bad run-ins with dedders before, but some of them weren't so bad. She briefly looked over at Logan to gauge his reaction, though her gaze swept back over to the Kingsnake. When Logan mentioned the headcold, her measure of his knowledge went up a peg. "Damn Yankees." The Ranger accepted the drink with an appreciative nod, imbibing a bit of the liquid with a sigh, suddenly wondering why Logan hadn't bought her a drink yet. She looked over at him with a little smile and hoped he could read her mind.

Her gaze went back over to the bounty-hunter in gray. "The spuhda, huh?" Katy narrowed her eyes a little. "Sounds like a group I'd be interested in gettin' ta know, truth told." She paused a little and furrowed her brow. "Don't s'pose ya ever gave thought ta becomin' a musician? My band has got plentya room fer a fella with yer kinda reputation and wearin' those grays. Give ya a chance to continue doin' the sorta work ya liked 'fore yer run-in with Rum Tum Tugger."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Katy looked forward to meeting this Coot. Perhaps she could turn him into a re-Coot.

In reply to Art C. Wiley (msg # 127):

Speaking of trouble...

At right around that time, a hatchet-haired Indian dressed in Union Blues steps out of the saloon Moses was pointing at.

He looks at the assembled gaggle of people, staring in shock.

Little Crow looks likewise shocked. [Language unknown: "Alosul!"] The Sioux growls.

"The nig-ga!" The Pawnee says at exactly the same time. he turns and runs back into the saloon.

---

As Maddox and matt ready themselves to leave, Sitting Duck comes barreling back through the bat-winged doors of the saloon. "Mad-docs! Mad-docs!" he shouts, pointing wildly back toward the street. "It him! The nig-ga! He here! He here!"

*growls in the general direction of Sitting Duck*

Matt shares a glance with the Welshman and walks past Sitting Duck out the door.

In reply to Catherine Hays Cox (msg # 131):

"I just bet you would." Kingsnake says, looking Logan up and down. He's smiling, but his hands ease down toward the fancy pistols at his waist. "Funny thing to have heard so quick. Might be that can be arranged, if'n you drop that there gunbelt first."

He leans against the bar, just nonchalantly enough to cover both Katy and Logan. "Reckon that goes for you too, Katy." He says, still cordially, though there's a hint of steel there now. "See, I'm in a new line o' work. And I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told the last Ranger who done asked if I wanted to join The Band. I dance to my own tune. Always have. The sort o' tunes your band plays might have me dancin' on my very own grave. I done that jig once -- not eager to be doin' it again anytime soon."

"Hey, now." Jackie says, moving to slowly unbuckle her own gunbelt. "Ain't no call for unpleasantness. Just here to talk."

From behind them all, Wild Bill looms. "The lady is right. Just here to talk. And as for them hearing things, well, it's cause Zeke here served me up some o' Coot's medicine."

"Is that..." Kingsnake begins, but trails off as he takes in the dead man. _{"Holy hell."}

"I'm sorry, I was off dealing with the Gem fire at the time. You look up Bullock about what happened there, or find Janet Weiss, see you: I think she was helping them choose victims," Maddox tells the lady with the worrying gun, then frowns at the reappearance of Sitting Duck and follows Matt out into the clearing rain.

He blinks at the small gang of assorted injuns and giants. "Excuse me, sir!" he calls to Moses, his right thumb hooked over his gunbelt where he stands. "I'd like to talk to you if you could come by yir a minute!"

"you watch the other aboriginals, I'll deal with Sitting Duck," the bounty hunter says more quietly to Broaddale.

In reply to Maddox (msg # 136):

Moses does indeed stop and turn toward Maddox.
He slowly shakes his head.
"You are not The Woman Who Remembers The Future. But do you know where to find her?"
He calls back, tapping his staff against his bare feet.

Belle maintained her ground and watched this exchange for a moment, a bit baffled by the spectacle of it all.  She wasn't sure who this odd staff carrying fellow was or why this bounty hunter was so interested in talking to him, but she was pretty sure it was all connected.  She wasn't about to miss this.

Janet Weiss... another name.  What madness is upon Deadwood? Her brain went into over drive in speculations.  Belle was one who tried to, often in vain, bring cognitive order to a chaotic universe.

"Wells? She said she'd come by yir after she'd gone and seen some prospector, see you...but I need to talk to you about your wife."

Katy gave the Kingsnake an understanding smile. She knocked back the rest of the drink he had gotten for her and then put the glass back on the bar with her left hand, though the left hand lingered there a moment, then went to lightly touch Cantrell's shoulder as her gaze went straight to his eyes. "I respect that, Jericho. But ya knew I had ta ask. It's parta the job description, ya know?"

She went to remove her gunbelt and wrap it up so that it could be easily handed to the bounty hunter. "This line a work I'm in'll put me in my grave early, Kingsnake. I know that, and I've known it fer years. Still do it, though, cuz it's helpin' folk out." She glanced over at Jackie, then back to the Kingsnake. "Helpin' a lot of folk. Mebbe every good soul."

She stepped back. "Take care a that gun an think bout whether a spuduh member like yerself might wanna help folk again. Don't gotta be as a musician if ya like yer own music. Could be right helpful fer yer soul, though."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:17, Wed 08 Feb 2017.

Logan caught Katy's glance, and wanted quite badly to try to catch a moment alone with her, but he figured now wasn't the time for the chat the two old friends deserved. He realized that he was quite bristling with guns at the moment, having been given a whole set of firearms from Wild Bill and Zeke.

"Holy hell is right," he said. On top of the bar near where Cantrell was leaning, he set down the firearms given to him by Wild Bill and Zeke. He made no move to remove his own gunbelt though.

"These are the weapons given to me by my friend here," he gestured to Wild Bill, "and your friend Zeke to hang on to in case...well, you know. In case there was a bad reaction to the medicine, so to speak. I'll put these in your charge. Unless you think that you're liable to turn too. In that case, I don't know who should hold onto 'em."

"As for my own, I'll pass on meetin' this Coot fella if it means I'm gonna have to disarm myself. I'm here on account of my friend's request here, and I'll be happy to wait outside of wherever y'all are in. You know, shoutin' distance. I could peace bind 'em or unload 'em in front of ya, but I earned these guns, and don't mean to give em up. No disrespect, but I don't know you from Adam, and don't know that you won't just run off with 'em."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Wed 08 Feb 2017.

In reply to Kingsnake Cantrell (msg # 135):

Upon seeing the neck wound, Zeke moves next to Bill, just in case. He clearly did not trust the newcomers-even seeing the hanging 'accident' he seemed to have. Worrying about Bill was one thing-but how many dead folk was he gonna have to worry about around the coot? It was one of the few things all their inner 'guests' had in common. They all wanted coot dead.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Wed 08 Feb 2017.

In reply to Ezekiel Starkweather (msg # 142):

((OOC: Zeke has seen Kingsnake and the guy with the bandages before...they're some of The Prospector's 'cavalry' (See Riding The Wind, Msg #102). Coot did, in fact, introduce them both to you.))

Moses furrows his brow, seemingly confused. "Wife? Moses has no wife..." his voice trails off as he looks off into the distance.
There was... a woman. Her name was... Abigail. He had met her in the graveyard.
He shook his head. No. That had been In Between, when he had saved Thunderwalker's soul from falling into the abyss. The Reckoners had sent a demon to him who appeared as a woman called Abigail. A woman known to the man who became Moses.

He shakes his head again, looking back at Maddox. "Wells," he replies, his deep voice rumbling with the name. He cocks his head again, closing his eyes, then opens them and looks at Art.
"Her name is Jackie Wells. That's the Woman's name."

"This woman, then," Maddox fishes out a less soggy wanted poster and hands it to Moses. "My informant," he gave a small jerk of the head at the excitable Pawnee, "-says you took her from them and went off with the Sioux, is that true?"

Matt nodded to Maddox and assumed a relaxed, non-threatening stance. He wasn't sure if he was relieved that every goddamn person in this town was converging on his objectives because it would make it easier to find, or if he was going to lose his mind over how important these objectives really were.

He wished he could talk to Marshal West, compare notes, but in the interim he was content to listen and watch.

Moses takes the wanted poster, studying it for a long while. He hands it back and shakes his head. "No. Now please tell Moses where he can find the Woman Who Remembers The Future."

Maddox raises an eyebrow at that, and attempts to pass on the poster to the nearest native, in case they might recognise the face. "You haven't seen her, then?"

He shakes his head to Moses' question. "Until she comes back by I have no idea where Wells is. You folk had best be careful around here," he tells Little Crow and the Cheyenne. "The soldiers are not friendly. Not at all. With Custer in charge there's all kinds of bad apples feel bold enough to hurt an indian, seeing as that it is he'll not go and do anything about it."

"Moses has seen her, yes. But you asked a different question. And to that, Moses' answer is no."
He looks to the side, furrowing his brow. He mumbles something, then looks back and down at the man in front of him.
"You have not mentioned your name yet. But fear not... the Lord tells Moses to not hold your bad manners against you."

The Sioux squints at the page. He's been glaring back and forth between the Pawnee and Moses, but he focuses on the image.

"He lies." Little Crow says. "She dress man. Travel with Ghost Dance." He looks at Moses. "Travel with him to Mathó Pahá. He lie."

The negro sighs, but respons to Maddox.
"Moses asks you to forgive Little Crow. The Lord's most humble servant is trying to show him the Light... but Little Crow has wandered in the Darkness for so long, he can barely remember what a ray of sunshine feels on his face."

Art kept an eye on the stranger, ready to pounce into action if it was necessary. His eyes were on Maddox while the two conversed. He watched, he listened, he waited. A hand drifted down to Kira's back, smoothing down some of the fur that had raised on her back.

The bounty hunter takes all this in, briefly raising his hand to rub his temples once more. "Yes. Right. Sorry. I just accidentally got a man blown up after being shot at a lot and escaping a fire, so I have been drinking. Will Mos- would you be so kind as to tell me what did happen? I'm Maddox, the name on the poster there."

"The rest of it says there's four hundred dollars put up as a reward for returning what that girl stole...and another two hundred for catching her alive, see you, but if she's up on Bear Butte I've no way to get her down."

In reply to Logan West (msg # 141):

Kingsnake shrugs. "Sure. I know ya gots to ask. But what makes you think I ain't helpin' folk right now?" He takes the offered guns and sets them on the bar, then points to a seat next to him. "Suit yourself, Marshal." he says. "You can wait here with me."

The bandaged man gets up. "Right this way, folks." he says.

He leads Katy, Jackie, Zeke, and Bill up to a curtained-off section of the bar. Inside, an old, grizzled white fella with a bushy beard, red flannel shirt, jeans and suspenders. He's got a Gatling shotgun propped up against the wall in easy reach, and a bottle of hooch in front of him flanking a plate with the remains of a meal. He looks up at the group as they enter and grins.

"Weh-heeell now!" He chuckles. "Looks like you managed to do all right, son." He nods at Wild Bill. "A pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Hickok, and no mistake. Glad I could help." He looks around. "And who might you two lovely ladies be?"

Katy's lips curled into a smile at Kingsnake's response. "I was hopin' ya still were helpin' folk. But if ya still wanna work fer the Rangers on a contract basis ever' now'n then, give Austin a holler. Or lemme know while I'm in town, a'ight? Mebbe ya got too much goin' on now, but mebbe that'll change sometime. Ya know I don't mind workin' with fellas in yer condition, right?"

---

Katy smiled at the man, but was aware enough of how itchy some trigger fingers might be at the moment where the Coot was concerned. She stayed at a safe distance and nodded her head respectfully. "I'm Catherine Hays Cox o'the Texas Ranger Brigade. Pleasure ta meetcha, sir. Though please call me Katy." She looked over at Jackie to await the other woman's introduction.

"I'm Jackie Wells. I'm a Law Dog, and I used to be deputy to Seth Bullock afore Custer came and tossed us out." Jackie says without preamble. "And we've met. Well, sorta. That there is a long, complicated tale, which I really don't want to tell more'n once to all the folk who I reckon need to hear it. There's a gatherin' up at the Mint...lots o' folk, wantin' to do lots o' things, and all needin' to share information. You're invited, 'cause you got that stuff that'll help Wild Bill here keep his mind in the right place, and you know a lot o' things that might help turn Deadwood around."

Coot leans back. "Well. That there is all mighty interestin'." he grins. "Sounds fun. But I got some bad news." He sighs. "See, that stuff I make? I use more than I can make quickly, and I done doled out most o' what I had on me." He looks at Bill. "It's good to see you back in control...but do you think you can stay there? 'Cause it's gonna take me some time to make more o' my elixir."

Wild Bill frowns. "Hell. I don't rightly know, to be honest. I weren't the best at keepin' the beast down at the best of times. How long will it take?"

"Well, it's a tricky brew. I got most o' what I need, and I do still have some...but it takes about a week to brew up proper. And you ain't the only one who needs it."

"There is a Reckoning in this world and the servants of Evil are among us. Soon, there will be the Last Battle and the Scales of Justice will tip in one side's favor. She", he tips on the poster, "will add tremendous weight to the Scales of Good. She has faced Raven, War's servitor and made him flinch.
She has brought a truce to the Sioux and the Pawnee, who have fought for so long they forget the reason why.
She has saved the Ghost Dance.
She is the Lord's most favorite sheep, His champion and a force for the triumph of Good over Evil. Leave her be."

He slowly reaches out with his hand, over Maddox's shoulder, then squeezes his fingers together to a fist.

"You keep interesting company, Maddox."
He pulls his hand slowly back, as if he had to strain with the effort. Then he growls at his fist and releases the fingers.
He focuses his attention back at Maddox. "Moses sees a darkness around you, Maddox. A darkness..." he nods, "that you were born with. You are wandering across a narrow edge between the paths of light and the paths of evil. Moses can try to protect you, but it will not be easy. Do you wish for the protection of The Lord's prophet?"

In reply to Jackie Wells (msg # 156):

"Bill has to get the first batch." Zek tells Coot.  "I know there are others, but if he loses control there won't be a second chance like this - and he can't be stopped by the...normal...methods. I will give him my brew if that helps."

Matt scoffed loudly at Moses' speech.

"Crazy fuckin... is there something in the water, Maddox?"

The bounty hunter leans back a bit as Moses starts talking about the End of Days. He opens his mouth to ask why a random Chinese whore would be the Holy Champion of God, or possibly sheep, but thinks better of it.

Moses' grasp over his shoulder causes him to start, suddenly, a convulsive shiver breaking over him like ice water, leaving droplets of sweat on his brow. He backs off hurriedly, those Whateley green eyes wide, leaving the poster with Little Crow. "You know, I think I, I'm fine, thank you. Very enlightened, seen the holy spirit, all of that. I'm...I'm just going now in a minute to see a man about a bun. I think. Going now. Ah...goodbye," he backs off, tugging his hatbrim, then heads for the nearest corner out of sight as fast as dignity might permit.

His glance at Marshal Broaddale reveals nothing except the fact that he's gone very pale and might be hastening off to throw up.

Matt starts.

"What the..." he trails off, then follows Maddox quickly around the corner, pausing only to say, "No trouble." to the gathered party.

Art raised his staff slightly off the ground and was about to spew a string of curses in the direction of Broaddale when the man abruptly headed off after Maddox. The lanky ginger closed his mouth and looked over to Moses with raised eyebrows.

Hehe, if Matt thinks that's crazy he ain't seen nothin' yet.  Prepare for crazy on top of crazy!

Belle had been paying attention to the details this whole time, and now was her chance to strike.

She come upon the enigmatic Moses almost from behind, butting in far closer than she probably should have, but Belle sometimes exhibited a tendency to use social conventions inappropriately, as if she had no true internal understanding and merely aped what she saw, remembering the attitudes and context, but not quite grasping the texture.

"You poor forlorn and cryptic yet thoroughly adorable man, I simply must assist you.  I must, I will hear no protestations of it.  Clearly you are in need of care and attention.  Belle Ivers, of the Iron Dragon Railroad."

She put a hand on his shoulder, and it looked almost comical as Belle wasn't too imposing and Moses was tall and much broader at the shoulder.  The idea Belle was going to 'help' him in any way seemed a bit silly.  But she went talking away, trying to see if she could get the prophet to follow her.

"You see my good man, I fear there is a dire matter of possible contamination and toxicity due to residual traces of common industrial compounds, which in sufficient parts per million are harmless as mother's milk, yet they tend to collect on certain improperly stored and handled cargo.  Fortunately I am a chemist and can detect toxic levels of heavy metals and particulates with sufficient access to the subject, however that is not the matter at hand.

"I did not get to converse with her at any length, but Quelle chance! I do believe I spotted this Wells earlier today, or at least that name was shouted quite a bit and by process of elimination I think I know who it is.  I'm quite good at process of elimination much to my chagrin, it is the least efficient principle of engineering you know.  But, your course must be expedited if I am to find mine, so let us advance!  Come come, we mustn't tarry, she may elude us!"

Maddox isn't visible in the street, and it's only when Matt gets a weak "Here" and the drop of a raised hand from the narrow alley between buildings that he spots the bounty hunter crouched back against the wall. The usually grim and competent Welshman is pale as the underside of a frog, trying to take his own pulse at the neck with fingers that tremble slightly.

"I didn't even feel him touch me," he complains, talking to bury the terror of one incomprehensable instant. "Pressure points or something. Rants about fire and brimstone a distraction. Christ, it felt like he reached inside my chest...just reached in and grabbed my heart. Fuck. Crazy bastard."

Moses looked at Art and then at Belle and back at Art again.
"There are many who doubt the Almighty's power and think His most humble servant to nothing but a fool. They are not evil, but they can be tools of evil. But, like any other tool, they might be wielded for good. Maddox, if he would turn to light, would be adding great weight to the Scales of Good."

He turns back to Belle, towering over her. He studies her for a second, shaking his head with a look of sadness. "You have your own demons that threaten to crush you. But if you know where to find The Woman Who Remembers The Future, you may lead the way."

Art nodded at Moses' commentary on Maddox. That wasn't what Art was wondering about, but it was useful information anyway. This whole listening thing was working out rather nicely. Sometimes, if you just listen, you get more or different information than if you'd asked what you thought might be the right question.

It was interesting that the woman with auburn hair and a rather large gun-like apparatus was willing to help them find Wells. It was a little odd, and he hoped it wasn't some sort of trap for his crew. She was asked to lead, and Art leaned on his staff, waiting to see if she would do so. He reached down for Kira only to find the Wolfhound not at his side.

Kira quietly padded over by Belle, sniffing at the woman as the dog's nose drew close.

"Demons you say?  There is no ill of the mind which cannot be slain by the judicious application of medicinal chemistry!  Indeed there may be no limitation of the body if its humors are corrected, if Dr. Kellogg's Energy Accelerant and Wellness Tonic is any evidence!

"Come, come.  I believe the quarry you seek was headed to another gathering, I think I heard the name Coot and it seemed a good many were to attend.  Surely we can locate such a sizable delegation considering the limited number of designated public gathering facilities which tend to double as alchohol distribution centers?  If not, well the effort will have been made!

"Ah, I confess biology is not my forte, but this appears to be a member of canis lupus familiaris and an exceptionally well heeled one at that...  I say, is your manservant a deaf mute, and this his assistant animal?  I have always wanted to learn the deaf speech.  I'm so curious what it is that the hearing impaired have to say."

Belle talked a lot but she also moved a lot.

Art smiled at Belle's commentary. His Irish brogue was plain as day wehn he spoke. "Are ya sayin' we gotta go from tavern ta tavern seein' where we might find this lady? Don't sound like such a bad ting." He looked over at Kira. "And yah, she be me assistant animal. Kept me livin' when mebbe I shouldn't be more'n once." Apparently deaf mutes spoke with a brogue.

Art did look over at their own sizable delegation and then meaningfully towards Moses before his gaze returned to Belle. "If ya know the lay o' the land, mebbe lead us toward where ya think this oracle be? We'd be much obliged."

Kira continued to sniff, making sure to get her nose close to Belle's butt at least once or twice. She seemed to be contemplating whether or not to get up on her hind legs and greet Belle as a friend or not.

Belle seemed initially disappointed the man wasn't a deaf mute, but quickly got over it.

"Ah, I presume you hail from the old country, as I am informed my ill-remembered grandparents called it?  There will be no multiple taverns to hop I fear, as one was destroyed earlier today.  I confess I've no precise location, but I was there when the woman I believe was Wells was dispatched.  Barring any possibility of further progress, it is a start to your objective yes?"

She looked down at Kira.

"Beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of Man without his vices."  She mused randomly, vaguely recalling Tennyson being read from a bound volume on her father's lap what seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago.

"The old country, yes. You may otterwise know it as Mizzouri. Way up in the northwest part o' the state." It had been a few years since Art had seen his family. He briefly had a pang of homesickness, but it didn't cross his features. "I be Art Wiley, Miss Ivers. Apologies fer not statin' so sooner. And where do you be from, Miss Ivers?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:13, Thu 09 Feb 2017.

Matt helped Maddox to his shaky feet, and when the man had regained some of his composure, stepped back around the corner to watch the proceedings.

Katy listened to the commentary about this batch that the Coot wanted to brew up with interest. She wouldn't be the primary beneficiary of such an elixir as it seemed the man brewed, but she knew some folks that could use it well enough.

"Sir, when ya say ya've got mosta whatcha need...what else are ya missing? And if ya had assistance from a knowledgeable person, could ya brew it more quickly?" Katy had other questions for the man, but those could wait for a little later.

Kira was unable to hold out any longer and raised herself up on her hind legs, in an attempt to place her paws on Belle's shoulders and give the woman kisses on the face.

Still pale, Maddox silently flips a coin, regards the result and resumes standing with his hat pulled low and his arms crossed tightly. He still shivers occasionally.

((OOC: dealing with multiple loose ends...))



Jimmy nods. "I think we need to catch back up with Maddox, then. He'd know where we'd need to go."

---

"No. But as the ranking Agent in the area I don't have the luxury of just trusting you, either." Haverford says. "It's not you. It's my standing orders. Tell you what -- where is West? I think he needs to be here. I'd feel more comfortable discussing this with him present. This is his area of operations, after all."

---

Sitting Duck follows Matt into the alley, and looks at Maddox. "He has the Holy Madness." he says to Maddox. "Like the Black Robes who preach of your White God. But now we know where whore is. Sitting Duck not afraid of Sioux chak-sukas. We go get, become rich!"

---

Little Crow, Kills Iron Horse, and Walks The Night Alone all sort of recoil a bit from Belle.

[Language unknown: "Nti ieom ur Ll Forlesbut."] Little Crow says.

[Language unknown: "Teisar ol eenthaith er tiatio di stndal."] Kills Iron Horse growls. [Language unknown: "Riin we Lin Enll Eenintany. Il anntof haioca m with  Ereundkor Urin, ho ntiet anprut illareere ur tosi nc."]

[Language unknown: "Thpo ica."] Walks The Night Alone muses. [Language unknown: "Ta li a teha. Unis hiin ompe hou un ecine ine icter tr out? An thha Urloil Weckes iniou ilhala t."] He walks up to Belle and starts pulling at her hair, as if to get a better look.

---

"I reckon that's prudent. In fact, I think that very fact might be very hand in collecting more o' the things I need, if you're up to it." Coot muses.

Bill nods. "I reckon I owe you one."

"Oh, yes, you do." Coot says.



"Odds and ends." Coot says. "The most pressin' thing I need to get started is some holy water. You know any preachers 'round here with a reputation for miracle-workin'? Heck, communion wine'd work...actually, a lot o' distilled spirits are useful as a base, and that would save a bunch o' time. Also, Ghost Rock. I use vapor from Ghost Rock a lot...if'n I had a good Ghost Steel still, that would make things easier, too, 'cause otherwise I gots to only burn a little at a time, or it gets hot enough to melt anythin' I put it in."

"Coot," Jackie says. "There's somethin' I need to know. Did you ever meet a gal by the name o' Heather Devlin? she's...well, she's one o' the types you help. She was supposed to find you."

Coot leans back and scratches his beard. "hmm...that name don't quite ring a bell. She related to the lady who runs Black River, by any chance?"

"You could say that." Jackie says. "After a fashion, anyhow."

Coot shrugs. "Sorry. not ringin' a bell. Met a lot o' Wichita Witchs, but you'd have to ask Winona."

Jackie sighs and looks down at the table. "Damn."

"Ah... our profession does tend to make us distrustful, doesn't it?"
He shrugs.
"Logan is doing something with a few folks from the Bella Union fight. Oh, yes, I don't think I've mentioned that.. We had an interesting meeting with the late Mr. Hickok... There was a rather unpleasant fellow who gave him something to drink. His condition improved."
He waved a hand, dismissively.
"I will never understand it, this infatuation with the Walking Dead your Agency and the Rangers have. Why do you not put them out of their misery? Anyway, there was talk of them having a drink to debrief."
He points to Jane.
"We could go and meet them... but what do we  do with her?"

Katy shook her head at the questions about obtaining holy water and ghost rock. "'Fraid I don't know no preachers 'round these parts. Only been in town fer less'n a day. But it can't be that hard ta find th' church, right?" They usually have a cross or three in an obvious place.  "As fer a still, I met a gal what seemed ta know a lot about scientific doodads. Don't know if she's got access ta a still, but might be worth askin', since it's fer a good cause."

Katy looked around briefly, then added a few more cents. "Don't s'pose ya ever talked ta any of my brothers or sisters in arms before 'bout yer elixir, have ya? We gotta lotta folk that're helpin' keep the darkness away. And they might could use somma that brew."

"Sounds like we need to get both parts of what Coot needs. I figure I can get into one of the local mines for some ghost rock,  maybe buy some for long term use. Anyone else wanting to pitch in can find some local preacher and see if he's got the mojo we need."

"Think so? Ran into him before things went sideways at the Bella Union." James recalls as the pair talk. "Guess we can find him easy enough."

Jackie sighs. "Findin' a preacher in Deadwood might be a bit more difficult than you think." She leans back. "Leastways, one holy enough call on actual help from the Almighty. This town don't exactly draw in a lot o' decent, God-fearin' folk."

Coot nods. "I figgered that. But the preacher don't need to be The Most High Holy Roller to do the blessing, it just makes the best batches." He looks at Katy. "That sounds helpful. And yeah. I have. But here's my issue with your folk -- far too many of them lean on the Shoot part of the 'shoot or recruit' method, and the 'recruit' method seems more like dragoonin' in my experience. And then they make the problems they're tryin' to solve worse by scarin' folk what have seen some of the things that have been goin' on."

"I said the exact same thing, earlier." Jackie says.

Coot looks at her. "Really?"

Jackie nods. "Uh-huh. Because of how you said it all worked. And The things I've seen my own self."

"huh." Coot thinks on this. "You seem sure we've met afore, but I'm sure I'd have recollected it."

Jackie nods. "I'm sure o' that, just as I'm sure you'd have remembered Heather if she'd found you."

"My memory ain't all it once was." Coot says. "When was this meetin'?"

"Devil's Tower." Jackie says. "In the year 2094."

Coot blinks.

"Yeah. Like I said, it's complicated, and it's a story I don't want to have to repeat a whole bunch o' times. There's some folk at the Mint who're waitin' on us to fetch ya." Jackie looks at Zeke. "Now, I know you're all-fired to help Coot go collectin' stuff, and I don't blame ya, but if we have Wild Bill's sitiation covered for now then I reckon we all oughta head back before we go out snipe huntin'."

Katy nodded at the Coot and then at Jackie. "An' I heard what ya said, Jackie, an' I been mullin' it over. Really ain't enough fer me ta hear it, though, gotta convince folk in Austin if yer gonna change thinkin' fer more'n just a person here an' there. Least 'til yer callin' me colonel, that is." Colonel Cox had a nice sound to it...

"Course my uncle might be just the fella ya need ta convince. Awful high up in Rangers, he is."

The Ranger nodded again at the suggestion they head out, since their errand seemed at an end. And as they were heading to another saloon, Logan would have another chance to buy her a drink.

In reply to Coot Jenkins (msg # 182):

Zek raised a skeptical eyebrow at Jackie when she started talking about the future.  However he was hardly one to say what was real and what was not. He glanced at Coot. "How long do we have to leave Bill here before I have to start worrying about him and you? "

"Why? Seems like we're all headed to the same place." Coot says. "Asides, it ain't a matter o' duration. It's a matter o' willpower. The stuff I make gives you a chance to assert your own will over the critter inside ya. Once you're back in the saddle, it's up to you to keep yourself there."

"I am not sure there's anything holy about that madness, see you," Maddox says, shuddering. He sighs at Sitting Duck's enthusiasm.

"You can go. Me, they axe or drag back to Deadwood. If you can dodge all the Sioux and that Tarha fellow, and bring her back alive, good for you. But I do think you should ask your commanding officer about the word 'desertion', see you." He meets Sitting Duck's gaze from under his hatbrim, serious.

"I know it's not the same for you fellows on the land, but Custer is making white laws in the town and I can believe he will enforce them."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:27, Fri 10 Feb 2017.

Sitting Duck shakes his head. "He has the Holy Madness. The white woman...she has madness, but it not Holy Madness. See?"

He shakes his head again. "Sitting Duck Chatickssichaticks. Pawnee. Sioux cahk-sukas have no love for Chaticks, like they have no love for white man. They make heap big nation, kick Pawnee and Crow and Shoshone out of it. Sitting Duck need Mad-docs."

"I...think perhaps you're better at identifying holiness than I am, it could be that," Maddox says as diplomatically as he can manage, albeit with a dubious sort of look.

"Hm, well...I'll try to get a permit to get up the mountain, but what with Custer being here, see you, and their parliament being there, that's twice as difficult...if I manage to get that together I'll let you know first, yes? How about that?"

Belle was amused by the dog's antics, but a bit terrified of its affections.

"Oh whoa... whoa... you're very sweet but I need to brush your teeth first, the bacteria in your oral cavity may be deathly... yeouch!"

Belle pulled back when her hair was pulled. "I say, that is a bit much there fellow!"

"Right. You lead the way." Jimmy nods, and gets his Gatling pistol ready.

((OOC: So...back to the Woolly Buffalo, then?))

In reply to Maddox (msg # 188):

Sitting Duck nods. "Sitting Duck will go to Office Of Mining, get permit when Custer removes cahk-suka Sioux from it. Then we go to mountain, get greezy-az whore. Then Mad-docs pays Sitting Duck. Is good." he nods again.

---

"How does your brain not burn?" The brave says, curiously, as he examines Belle. He speaks surprisingly good English. "The Holy One says, you have demons in, and your hair is red like hellfire. How do you not burn?"

Belle chuckled.  Where did these guys all come from?  They were freaking adorable.  But they could probably stand a few chemistry lectures.  And a bath.  Probably the bath was more important.  "My good man, those demons are naught but knowledge that is unfamiliar!  As steel is magic to those unfamiliar with it, engineering and chemistry are demons to those who lack the fundamental cultural moorings to internalize such concepts.  I think no less of anyone for holding such an opinion as yours however, the current and regrettable scarcity of such things must be acknowledged yes?  It is of no consequence in the long run, progress marches ever onward, and science will win in the end, for it is the truth, and the truth cannot be stopped.  Once we have solved the problem of transportation across the globe, all people will have access to the cultural richness of all others and soon amazing discoveries which dwarf all we currently have will be forthcoming.  Then there will be no more demons, save among the very stubborn!

"As for my hair color, it is a pigmentation pattern owing its existence to a phenotype I have manifested!  You see my good man, as the people of the world have scattered and been isolated for some time, different traits and appearances have emerged in a staggering variety.  Alas, it is regretful that rather than study these differences for possible insight into our shared condition or rejoice in the wide beauty homo sapiens can manifest, so many use this visual difference to justify small and petty thoughts, or worse!  All number of things are possible!

"If you wish to examine it, that is fine for far be it from me to deny honest inquiry, but do ask rather than pull, it is somewhat painful!"

The brave shakes his head. "I am called Walks The Night Alone, because I often wander the darkness far from the campfires. I have seen things, Firehair. Walk near Matȟó Thípila -- what your people call Devil's Tower. You will see the things you call demons for yourself. Walk through a battlefield. You will still hear the screams of the dying, and see the dead fighting on for eternity. Perhaps the ways of demons and spirits are simply science you do not understand?"

He shrugs.

"I have heard the words you speak before. They always come from those who think their way is the best way. The only way. They call it progress as if it moves ever forward. As if it were...in-ev-it-able? Is that the word for cannot be stopped? But they ignore the call of Wakan Tanka. They do not listen to their hearts. How can they move forward when they do not listen? They think they are the masters of all they see. And then they are eaten by the worms. Only our mother the earth is in-ev-it-able, Firehair."

"Yes!  You understand!"  Belle wasn't quite correct, she was hearing what she wanted to.  "I don't know if I would use the word demon necessarily, but to me a phenomenon I had no context for would seem supernatural!  Stellar insight!  Well done!"

She listened to the rest.

"Ah but that is the beauty my good sir, it is not my way, it is the way of all mankind!  The rudders of great vessels invented by the Chinese, the advanced maths of the ancient Egyptians commonly called trigonometry as well as their invention of wire, numerals from India, the written word of the ancient Romans, and the innovations of a contemporary American to send all this information across vast territories in binary fashion... these things from across the world and from across time have all come together to create the very circumstances which allowed us to meet this fine day!  Is it not astonishing?  And in its sheer complexity there are no masters, only each of us, playing our little part.  It is an amazing tapestry, and none of us is more than a thread in it.

"You are correct it is the earth which gives us all these things, and more!  Just imagine it, crops which grow everywhere to end starvation, cures for diseases now considered incurable, the ability to go anywhere and see anyone!  None of it possible without the very earth under our feet.  It is because we are on the earth, which is ever changing, that we are ever changing, from e'er we did descend!"

Belle was a very animated speaker when she got overly excited, making broad, sweeping gestures with her hands.

Art frowned, a bit put off by Belle's lack of response to his introduction and question to her. He listened to the back-and-forth between Belle and Walks the Night Alone, still frowning. The tall Irishman placed gentle hand on Kills Iron Horse, as he expected she'd have strong feelings here. Art then added his voice to the conversation. "He do understand, quite a bit. Maybe more than ya give him credit. But I do no think you unnerstand. He be using the term demon to describe an actual spirit. No some vague concept."

Art briefly looked to the sky before returning his gaze to Belle. "And some parts a progress're fine. But some folk don't stop ta think whether they should do something. Only wonderin' if they can. Advancin' science without considerin' consequence, well, tha's terribly dangerous."

OOC: and back to the Woolly Buffalo!
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Mon 13 Feb 2017.

"Not generally, no." Haverford says. He blinks. "Oh, dear. So those rumors are true, then." he shakes his head. "And if that unpleasant fellow is who I think it is..." He starts rubbing his temple. "This is above my pay grade." he shrugs at Von Steinhof. "I don't think you've ever met Abe...Andrew Lane." He says. "Imagine if your emperor was struck down in an untimely fashion, but then, by some dark miracle, he was returned to you and could still provide leadership and inspiration as long as his new dead condition could be monitored. Wouldn't that be worth keeping around? The Harrowed are still the people they used to be before their deaths...it's just that they are possessed by something extra. As long as that can be managed, the Harrowed are extremely durable and capable agents."

He looks briefly at Jane. "I could call the medic, let him see to her."

Leopold crosses himself at the thought of Emperor Franz Joseph getting struck down like this, but shakes his head.
"You are missing two very important points here: One: We are talking about the Emperor. Not just any... person." He seems to have caught himself before using another word.
"And two: There can only be one Emperor. If something were to happen to Franz Joseph, his heir, Rudolf, would ascend the throne. Imagine Franz Joseph returning and interfering with Rudolf's rule. It would be chaos! Civil war, maybe."

He shrugged and put his light-blue coat back on again. "Even Jesus Christ had enough sense to not stick around when he got back up from dying, didn't he?"


"That is a wonderful idea, Lieutenant. You do that, and then we go meet up with Logan and the rest, shall we?"

In reply to Freiherr von Steinhof (msg # 198):

"Believe me, I know exactly what that would be like. I don't have to imagine. And neither does President Grant, which is why Garfield's bloviating about the SSA is so very, very dangerous. But enough politics." Haverford shakes his head. "I'll get on that."

((OOC: So, where are you headed once a medic is called to see to Calamity Jane?))

Matt sighed, tipped up his brim, and rubbed at his brow. Sitting Duck was quickly moving up his list of problems. In fact, he'd flown right by "weird giant with a passel of Indians" and eked past "everything else wrong" in the Pressing Concerns cue.

"Listen Sitting Duck. Listen to me. You go up to Bear Butte, one of two things happens. Either you run in there half-cocked and get immediately shot to shit by a bunch of angry Sioux who, as far as I've heard, don't want you taking this girl away. That's the outcome I'm hoping for," Matt spat, clearly exasperated, "Because the other way is that you go up there and someone gets a good enough look at you to tell you work for Custer before shooting you to shit. My country has enough trouble with this AWOL [Language unknown: Icaourtic Pr] wearing Union Colors on his revenge quest without you stirring up more trouble by making the Sioux think the Union is sending men to extract their prisoners or guests or whatever she is."

Matt fished out his wallet and pulled out a few bills.

"You want money? I got money. I can have three times this in a two days. Take the money, leave the girl, and fuck off. Just fuck. the. hell. off."

He held out $150 dollars in Union scrip, preparing himself to follow up with this bullshit about Custer's plans for the Office of Indian Affairs.

Maddox gives the Marshal an 'I was dealing with this' kind of frown, but doesn't stop him.

"My apologies sir, the hair pulling distracted me.  I shall have to inquire where your marvelous pronunciations developed.

"I am sure that there are things in this world currently beyond understanding.  There are more things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in our philosophy, yes?  If someone wants to call them demons that suits me just fine, but the future peoples of the earth will mock and deride our primitive perceptions if they fail to consider our limitations in context.

"But to your point... just because something can be misused doesn't mean it shouldn't be developed.  Tell me, are most people murdering sociopaths who would use something as innocent as distillation to make concentrated poisons, or would most people use it for constructive ends?  Surely some perform the former, yet the world around us is adequate evidence it is the latter.  Considering the immense good this simple discovery has done, is it truly worth abandoning it all in favor of preventing a handful of poisoners from acting?  Furthermore, if men of good character forsake this knowledge, it will be left solely as the domain of the wicked.  No, we have no choice but to move on.

"Furthermore, we do not get to pick and choose the truths of science, and indulge only in that information which pleases us, for the universe itself is indifferent to our proclivities, wants and desires.  Each discovery begats more, yes?"

In reply to Matthew Broaddale (msg # 200):

The disagreeable brave snatches the money Matt waves around. He gives the Marshal a gap-toothed grin. "Two days. More money. Yes. Sitting Duck will find you." He says, then saunters off towards a nearby saloon -- thankfully, not the Mint.

Meanwhile, at the Woolly Buffalo, Coot heads back out into the greater bar, and tells Kingsnake where he's headed.

"You think you can trust 'em?" The big man says. He looks at Wild Bill and Zeke.

Coot shrugs. "Reckon I can, for the moment. 'Sides, it's gonna be your shift soon, watchin' over that fella you pulled out o' the hardware store. Wilder can come with me."

The bandaged man nods, and the big man begins handing folks back their guns...and this is right when James and Jimmy walk in.

Coot grins at the two. "Well, now! How the Hell are ya?"

Jackie, on the other hand, narrows her eyes at the bounty hunters. "You two again." She says.

To see Logan. I think I know where they wanted to go,  right? and then the band's finally together. :-)

Matt deflated and took off his hat. This was so out of control. Now he had to go get his paycheck advanced, and pay off this bloodthirsty bastard. But it was better than bloodshed.

The Marshal turned to Maddox, then looked up at the rain.

"Let's get you inside, yeah, Vic?"

Maddox sighs and gives some inaudible agreement, unwilling to discuss that particular tactic on the street. He's set to head back to the Mint's porch unless Matt has other ideas.

Art patiently listened to what the demon-touched scientist had to say before he responded. "The demons are no beyond our unnerstandin'. Only those tha' refuse ta try fail ta unnerstand. And the people o' the future will mock and deride only those tha' don' try ta unnerstan more'n what they put their hands on. Knowin' bout the physical world be only a small piece o' what ya need. A person tha' claims ta be interested in knowledge but then willfully ignores knowin' abou' certain tings, well, tha's the sort of person tha' will be mocked and derided. Course tha sorta person don't gotta wait 'til the future fer their hypocrisy ta be obvious an' ridiculed."

His head moved slightly to the side under his hood, then it shook side-to-side, ever-so-slightly. "In fact, the very first question someone tha' is thinkin' of inventin' somethin' should ask is 'what would happen if this fell inta the wrong hands'? Assumin' tha' your inspiration is no unique is admirably humble, bu' no askin' that question o' yerself, well, tha's irresponsible. An the only reason ya don' get ta pick an choose is because it ain't comin' from yer brain. It's comin' from somethin' malevolent. The universe mebbe indifferent to ya, but there're a lotta folk here on this planet that be affected by what ya do. Mebbe ya should think about folk here insteada wonderin' whether the universe be carin' or no."

Art was far more patient than his teacher, who would have long ago smacked Belle in the head with his huge stick and told her how stupid she is.

"Katy," he called, beckoning her over to the bar, where he had tworked glasses of whiskey waiting.

As she re-emerged from the back room, Katy looked over at Logan and smiled. She walked over by the Marshal, took off her sombrero and set it nearby. Her hair was braided and tied with a black ribbon, and the braid swayed a bit as she said down and turned her gaze toward her childhood friend. "Thanks, Marshal. Been a long damn time since we drank together. Though this time we don't gotta hide it from our parents, eh?" Katy held up one of the glasses in front of her, a smile tugging at her lips as she gazed over at Logan.

"A damn sight too long," he said, clinking his glass with her and pulling down a sip of that warm whiskey. "If this town keeps goin' to hell every five minutes the way it has been, I don't expect we'll get much time to properly catch up. But…I figured I oughta buy you a drink for starters…Ranger." He met her eyes for a moment, then put down the rest of his whiskey, setting his glass on the table.

"You don't know how many days I wished we never left Texas," he said, referring to his family's departure from the state. His father, an abolitionist preacher, was getting less and less popular by the day, and his congregation was getting smaller over time. In truth, there hadn't been much choice but to leave at a certain point. 

Katy grinned at the response from Logan, averting her eyes for a moment, but then looking at her childhood friend as if trying to see the young Logan again in the old. It wasn't that difficult, truly. He hadn't changed all that much. She took a pull at her drink at the same time Logan did, and listened to what he had to say. "Thankee kindly fer the drink, Logan. Ya can be damned sure I sure wish ya hadn't left, neither. Tweren't right that yer pappy was gettin' so much trouble. Fifty years ago, Texians fought fer freedom ta choose what they want. Shouldn't be folk that don't wanna hear what yer pa had ta say - that ain't freedom. 'Cept they prolly knew he was right, specially the rich an' powerful. An those were zactly who didn't want his ideas spreadin'. Tweren't right, an I'm glad ya got out safe."

She did furrow her brow for a few moments. "Ain't so glad ya never did come ta visit, but ain't so easy ta get down there I s'pose. So whatcha been upta since ya left? I see yer inta lawin' now?" She sipped at her whiskey again, enjoying the warmth and promise of relaxation.

It always bother Zek to have this many dead people in one place and at one time. Granted, he was fairly sure he could trust them all thanks to the Coot, but you never really knew for sure. After all, each and every one of them had an inner passenger who wanted Coot torn to bits...

"Fellas." Zek said, tipping his hat to both.

The gunman glances around, "Michael, didn't expect you to be here."

In reply to Art C. Wiley (msg # 208):

"You speak as if the physical world is something mere sir!  There are globes in the heavens, the contents of which are unknown!  Who knows what awaits us out there.  And there are worlds within the smallest things!  The mere spark of electricity poses questions with no answers as of yet!  And there may well be things which exist beyond physical boundaries, but these are perfectly rational.  For instance, Plato believed the numbers were abstract objects which reside outside of our terrestrial domain, and while it cannot be proven, it is at least plausible.  However considering that we don't even know all the mysteries a thing so ordinary as water contains, why speculate into such ventures where there is no empiricism?

"And I beg your pardon but your logic does not hold sir.  If the man who invented steel lamented oh woe is me, someone may use this to forge an implement of destruction so I should cast it aside, we'd have forsaken the steam engine, the plowshare, the surgeon's scalpel... such is a world of cruel barbarism indeed.

"Indeed if the criteria for whether something is worthy to know is if it can be misused, then a nihilist would feel quite justified purging this earth of all life, human or otherwise!  Does one slay a helpless infant prince, for he may become a cruel despot someday?  Potential is one thing, but it is far from the only thing!

"And again sir, if the virtuous forsake the power discovery brings, then only the wicked shall prosper!  It is the same with wealth, which is often considered to be evil, yet wealth prevents such dire sufferings!  Do you know why the Good Samaritan was heralded for his kindness?  It is because he had the money with which to effect his will!  How did Jon Snow found the sanitary movement and save countless millions death and misery?  It is because he had the knowledge of the scientific method to discover the way!  Why must we judge everything by its worst possible use, especially in a species where the worst possible use is the least employed?

"Furthermore sir, I know not what quarrel you have with me or the new science, but I assure you I was not born a mechanic nor was a periodic table embedded in my instincts.  All of the things I know I learned from practice, references written by others and instruction.  Anyone can reproduce them, in theory at least."

If nothing else, Belle could talk.  It was probably a good thing she wasn't a lecturer.

[Language unknown: "Ecec?"] The fireplug Sioux says, pointing at Belle. [Language unknown: "Ulio? Le io usons heain, paenc mi notwerthe in acout eretioith linanysom laitiv ecthashat k wicaolac plwiou! Ard notwh ati whmiaiil onlat latehece tic k set houforeve! M un i ie plntho ie ai whiallort! Pro il wa ndeta ithounand...icate anet butntivir ut mo sti!"]

The bandaged man chuckles. "And where were you expecting me to be? Wait, never mind, not sure I want you to answer that."

Jimmy looks around. "We were hoping to catch up with Maddox."

"I thought he was with you." Michael says. "Did you catch up with Brett Bones?"

In reply to Little Crow (msg # 216):

Moses shakes his head, then furrows his brow, as he looks up to the sky.
"Will they be safe, Lord? Moses worries about Screaming Rabbit."
He seems to listen to the banter between Belle and the others, but then says: "Thy Will Be Done, Lord. As always. Will thou grant your humble servant the power to speak in Little Crow's own tongue?"

11:24, Today: Moses rolled 7,4 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 7,4.  Faith, Speak Language.

[Language unknown: "Ticoreore Ncson... Andareoer eauof en naal es loee litaen po ntwh for. Setmi ent p erear whi tha ine ndev, re hou ion ure one. Usmi ench nthi elutmaicwi allntitra conse oerthahou il le eemasi n esecit. Dayes alac ekloon a Der, nde ad roerta sapori, Ficeic. Sti of ureencund weinle oreionvor pr Ho. Mi rint proentionsta plunlo lehi notoneder... usncekck linandman ngtrni ere unthe ine tote. Ard o ckvor on Ortll te wh Sspepl a vor er olvir ensael ulnt Yintioineard. Ul t ss mami k resta set tori ovewasnde cesi waslesredica but wihost. M ure me tontpa tedie ate sslo as tedsetreaeen ted yin anntck urnool ich a daydayset wil rom o beolwear."]

Then he turns to Belle, still walking. His voice grows more forceful as he speaks, until it is a rumbling thunder at the end.
"There are forces in this world intent on purging humankind from this Earth, Belle Ivers. They are preparing a Reckoning and are gathering their armies. There is one gathering right now and close. We will fight their armies. We will fight them in the streets. We will fight them in the hills and mountains. We will fight them near the rivers. We will defend all of the Lord's creation and we will never surrender."

Belle stopped going on and tapped her chin idly.  "I wonder if I stay here long enough if I'll get the chance to learn these fascinating local languages.  I've not heard such structures.  Perhaps if I'd gone to university I'd have been a polyglot... oh well the road not taken is just that."

"A dire threat against humanity sir? It is a constant in any age, to be sure.  But if I may be forgiven for such presumption, I take your words to mean there is a specific and credible threat in the here and now and that you are not merely observing an unfortunate facet of mankind's very being.  Well, it is truly fortunate I have encountered you fine gentlemen, for as much as your curious ways delight my senses and intrigue me of opportunities to spread understanding, your methods of meaning will be lost on many and to be blunt, your communications can be inscrutable.  That is to say, your method of expression may cast doubt on the credibility of your message, which I perceive to be rather genuine and serious if strangely expressed, so this cannot be allowed to pass.  I shall have to assist, so let us inform the proper authorities with all haste sir."

At some point we should have physically moved quite a ways from the Mint... hard to tell in wibble-wobble time though.  Bearing in mind Belle had only some vague idea Wells and the others were going to talk to this Coot person in another saloon, but with half the buildings in Deadwood burned down it ought not be that hard to find it or them, given like 12+ people should be there between most of the PCs and Coot's undead legion.

The braves just...look at each other.

[Language unknown: "Ic teher daypo es?"] Kills Iron Horse scratches her head as she tries to puzzle out Belle's speech.

Walks The Night Alone shrugs. [Language unknown: "Il ee has was. Ol enisbe t intionati itles iouestear locaur, laai he ainonelatome ure. P ta ntefo lintheomeave. I ncosus ispre anthpr o chut Cacach Oun fororture el leloho Enc Is Thuastdin thidaynti as."]

Kills Iron Horse spits. [Language unknown: "Atetiover Nti e nele eredaywer. Derwe hi m meilha ai m trpoca dayonsare?"]

Walks The Night Alone shrugs again. [Language unknown: "Inrea nc korredven o ilofte p. Illi i itin'oues unec."] He makes a chirping whistle. Kills Iron Horse chuckles.

Little Crow, meanwhile, just scowls.

Art was about to respond when his travelling companions interjected. He listened to what Moses had to say to Little Crow and added his own nod of agreement at the end. Little Crow didn't need more voices at the moment. If he would listen to one, that would be enough.

The gangly redhead couldn't help but chuckle at the thoughts provided by the Cheyenne. He tried to translate. [Language unknown: "Onma ingast-waseen na nce di atelo uncene meroei enaras hislinrom menurende, trfo onnoce ncehe ck t. Oer larnoteau ec neenna ce prowhestamen larst notourles korarerat mi din en wi ouliv ch onsyinthe ei t eesiul n etivom enekdistar p any ardentsan p elwahe tintiower it wailwa iveainomethoers."] He paused for a moment to let that sink in. [Language unknown: "Sa eneeseil, un ekalta p larvenwer we at fohe homandat wi siriisliwe ek ecng t airo ek ast ol il virameset butdinles nanot butanyingand pr. Ad prehasbut son peunan lema k wittheate urewilallainlat, andll are hawh wer i eenilllar arnimoadou n earousess."]

Having distilled and translated as best he could, Art responded again to Belle. "The physical world do be mere, if ya ignore tha spiritual world. When ya consider them both, then ya c'n unnerstan everyting. Until ya start considerin that, ya be very dangerous."

Art licked his lips briefly, and continued to address her points. "The person tha' created steel did no have a demon tellin' him wha ta do, like ya have. Steel has plenty o' uses 'sides makin' things designed fer killin'. The person tha' made steel unnerstood zactly what the ingerdients tha' made steel did. As fer the prince, if ya knew fer certainty tha' him growin' would destroy the world, an ya could go back in time ta change it, killin' would be a reasonable option, ya."

The tall ginger placed a hand on Kira for a moment, petting the dog gently. "As fer the Samaritan, the priest and the Jew tha' passed 'im by both had the means. An' they should be expected ta help, bein' of the cloth and a fellow contryman. Th' Samaritan be celebrated because he looked past the exterior of the man in trouble. He looked inside the man and inside hisself. He showed empathy and compassion. He be celebrated fer doin' the right ting, even when he would no be expected ta do so. If ya want ta be like the Samaritan, Belle Ivers, you need ta learn wha' th' right ting is rather'n assumin' tha' righ' an' wrong don' matter."

Art looked over at Moses, then back at Belle. "Le' me ask ya this - do ya know wha' ghost rock be made of? Do ya know where it came from an why it be providin' the power it do?"

He nodded at what she said, appreciating the sentiment. 

"Well, I didn't know that I'd be welcome back, truth be told. I mean, maybe by some, like your folks. Maybe a few others. But folks are pretty passionate about all this, and I can't blame 'em. Once you fight for somethin', you tend to feel a loyalty towards it and it can get powerful hard to look past that. See, we first went to New Orleans when we left. Union still held it at that time, and I was fulla piss'n'vinegar so I signed up with some other Texans that had left as well. Mostly German Unionists from Comal County, some from Guadalupe, up into Blanco too, but a lotta Mexicans and Irish too from here and there. Most of the officers were old southerners, though. My folks headed on back east, and I was part of the 1st Texas Cavalry," he said. 

"For my part, I didn't really like all the killin', so eventually I left the service. Someone said I should take up lawin', and here I am with this star here. And there you are. Might be had I stayed, I'da had a similar story to the one I got now, just different colors. But to some folks, the colors make all the difference." He met her eyes at that comment, whether or not she caught it, there was an unspoken question in that last sentence about how much those colors mattered to her.

Katy listened to Logan quietly, though she looked down briefly when he mentioned he joined up with the Union. She didn't realize he had actually fought for the North. She met his eyes again after a moment, and tilted her head to the side. "If ya'd stayed, Logan, ya'd have got conscripted. Mebbe gotten killed. First halfa 63 weren't a good year fer the South. Glad ta see yer alive an well, that's fer sure, and not still parta the fightin' out East."

She took a quick drink, appreciating the flavor and heat, and the chance for a pause. When she set the glass back down, her fingers remained curled around the drink, not wanting to let go. Her brow furrowed slightly. "As fer colors, it's interestin'. When I got my star, my uncle told me a lot. Prolly not everthin', but a lot. I think ya've seen somma what we're up against, based on how ya been talkin' with these here folk that Coot helps. I think ya might even know that what the Rangers are invetigatin' and fightin', well, it goes way beyond colors, don't it Marshal? The moment I put on the star, I became a defender o' humanity. Not a defender o' the South. An' humanity's needed a lotta defendin'."

Katy looked over at the gathered dedders and then back at Logan. "If ya only knew what I seen, Marshal. If ya only knew."

"I did, and Maddox was dealing with him ... while I was catching up with Carter before things went crazy." James scratches his beard as he looks around at all the folks in the space, "So, what's going on here?"

"Now see here fellow, I do not mean to trumpet my own virtue, but all you have observed of me is when I took it upon myself to assist a strange and misdirected individual in need of my help.  I do not claim sainthood, but your a priori assertions I am doing something untoward are not civil.  Why do you assume I don't think ethics are a consideration?  Am I some inhuman to you?

"You insist on observation of the spiritual, yet you do not explain what it means.  The spiritual or the supernatural is simply that which we perceive as such.  By considering the universe, you consider all things.  That some things are classified so does not make reality any less mysterious or comprehensive.

"As for your strange idea some voice in my head speaks to me... the only thing in my mind is myself.  Of course I have disparate impulses, some of whom want to commit antisocial acts, such as the temptation to steal goods without paying for them.  That is the case of every human being however, it is simply the id, ego and superego colliding with one another.  Now there are individuals who manifest a whole different personality, and as I do not black out and lose track of extended periods of time, I doubt I suffer from that.

"And the steel is no different from any other technology.  While some trial and error and design iteration is inevitable, eventually an understanding is reached via these methods and the mysteries resolved, but the fact that some processes must be undergone to resolve those mysteries doesn't mean that the end product is not understood yes?   For example my trauma compound may be quite mysterious to some, but anyone with sufficient understanding of the new science can reproduce it.  It is nothing mysterious, only complex technically, which occupies the same region of the mind unfortunately.

"Furthermore technology is not evil, nor is it good.  It simply exists.  It all has multiple uses.  And I would be quite suspicious of anyone who proposed killing an infant based on the reading of some bones or oracular testimony myself.  I'm rather on the side of innocent until proven guilty I am afraid.

"Ah, ghost rock.  Etherialis ignate, as it is properly called.  Yes.  It is carbon, hydrogen, sulfur, oxygen and nitrogen with traces of other elements such as mercury, selenium and arsenic.  It was formed by rapid fossilization in hot gas pockets, which creates the many microscopic fissures and gaps in the substance so that it produces a distinct audible phenomenon when it burns.  It is very molecularly dense, which gives it a great deal of chemical energy."

Art shrugged. "I no be assumin', I jus' be listenin' ta what yer sayin'. Based on what I hear, I do no think ethics be yer concern. Mebbe, and I hope ta be, but mebbe I'm wrong. But mebbe ya also need ta do some soul-searchin' of yer own."

He titled his head to the side slightly. "The spiritual and physical do no be a matter of perception as yer usin' the word, Belle Ivers. But it do take trainin' ta know how ta see tha' which ya cannae touch."

He shook his head at Belle's continued misunderstanding of what was guiding her. "How do you know tha' some o' yer thoughts don' come there from somewhere else? Those temptations, how da ya know they're the same as other people? Because yer thoughts, they do no always be your own, Belle Ivers. And unless ya unnerstan that, ya will continue ta be dangerous. I do no doubt that once ya've made something it can be reproduced. It do be the first makin' of it that needs, as ya say, ethics. Because it can be evil. If ya could make a device which had the sole purpose o' killin' ever livin' thing on this continent, would ya do it because it don' be evil, it just do be progress an someone else might figger it out anyhow?"

Art rubbed his chin for a moment. "As fer the ghost rock, ya've looked inta it yerself, have ya? Done the calculations ta see if it do work out right? People have been diggin' in the ground fer thousands of years. An yet here we find sometin' new an jus star' usin' it witout really thinkin' abou' it. Or seein' wha's really there. All in th' name o' progress."

"Wait, Carter was there!?" Michael says, aghast. "Don't you think maybe you should've lead with that!? Where is is? Did you shoot him down? Dammmit, why didn't you get me in on this?"

"My good man, ethics is the foremost concern of everyone even when they pay it no mind, which we often do out of necessity for we could not possibly consider the full ramifications of any decision or we'd never decide at all.  No action we take lacks some element of choice.  But I digress.

"You contradict yourself my good sir.  For the sake of not having a circular discussion, let us cede the ground and suppose that some intangible objects, and even beings, do exist.  If they are in fact spirits, the only way to fathom their existence would be to perceive it as a mental construct, yes?  For if it is not a thing of this world, our senses and empirical tests would be useless, correct?  In that case fancy is our only resort.

"As for whether all my thoughts are my own, well sir, I submit to you if I don't know that, then no one does, and it makes no difference since I cannot tell either way.  As for how I know?  In a Cartesian sense, I cannot know absolutely due to solipsism, however I read comprehensively to the extent I am able, and every author of the human condition seems to betray a common experience across different histories and cultures.  It is proof enough for me that my internal though processes are not unique.

"Now your hypothetical question... that is interesting, however it lacks a key component.  I wouldn't do such a thing without an incentive, and that incentive would be informative as to whether it would be good or evil.  So to answer, I would have to know why I or some hypothetical person would seek to create such a thing.

"However, a larger point to consider is that the knowledge of how to build such a device is in and of itself amoral, for it is knowledge and knowledge cannot be good nor evil, it has no volition.  And two, such knowledge as exists will be discovered in due time by men far more likely to be seeking to answer other questions.  For example, such a device might harness a great deal of energy.  The ability to harness a great deal of energy would have very many uses, far more of them productive than sinister.  Someone is far more likely to discover this energy phenomenon working on something else rather than deliberately go looking for the worst possible application from the onset.

"And yes, men have dug in the earth for a long time, however our history is full of discovering that substances long overlooked or unknown have many uses.  It makes no economic sense for men to go search for that which they do not know exists, or know is valuable.  For centuries many Europeans sat on vast coal, iron, and nickel deposits having no clue what they could possibly do with them, then suddenly great operations were underway seemingly everywhere at once when the revelation was made.  As for the substance itself, I do not claim to be the singular expert, but no one knows all the mysteries of any one substance.  Even water is curious and poses questions yet unanswered, as it defies all notions of how a liquid acts."

Art raised both eyebrows at Belle's first statement. "Ah, so now ya speak fer the entire scientific community, eh? Ethics is of foremost concern of everyone? So the fellow tha' robs th' graveyard ta get pieces o' dead folk ta stitch em together just to see if he can get 'em movin' again, then creates a monster tha' kills a buncha folk. Yer sayin' his foremost concern was ethics? Or the people tha' have created killin' machines fer the Union and the CSA so they c'n send more to their graves - ya think their chief concern be ethics? Or the one tha...ya know wha, I think ya can probably tinka dozens more ta prove yer own self wrong on tha' front."

He shook his head. "And no, I dinnae contradict meself, ya jus' aren't listenin'. Ya do no haveta perceive 'em as mental constructs." His accent temporarily disappeared as he copied the way Belle said the words. "Trained folk can see 'em jus' fine wit dere eyes. Flesh n' blood eyes. So, no, yer senses no be useless. Nor yer empirical tests. Keep yer eyes and ears open, Belle Ivers, and use yer empirical tests. Insteada assumin' ya know wha's goin' on, keep an open mind ta whatcha see an' hear. Do yer empirical tests when ya get th' chance. An' then mebbe ye'll start ta unnerstan."

Art smiled a little when Belle agreed that she didn't know if her thoughts were here own, in fact no one does. "Ah-ha! A li'le nugget o' wisdom there. No one knows what thoughts are their own, do they Belle Ivers? Ya c'n only guess tha' ya have somethin' similar ta otters. Bu' in yer case, I'm tellin' ya all of 'em ain't. Consider tha' next time yer in yer head. And proof enough be words o' sloppy science, Belle Ivers. 'Specially when it be wrong."

Art's eyes went wide and he shook his head when Belle went forward with the hypothetical. "Do ya even hear yerself talk atimes? Ya find yerself okay makin' somethin' tha' is designed ta kill tousands and tousands, so long as ya got incentive?" Art tsked loudly and shook his head again. "Tha' all it would take is some incentive? As fer the more likely path, look around, Belle Ivers. Look to the East. Look here. Folk have long created tings ta tryta win a fight wit their neighbor. Needed for survival, they say. Most everyone's fightin' righ' now. Until there be peace, many or most will be tinkin' o' their own survival, an nuttin more'n tha. An they'll be makin' new an' better ways o' killin' otter folk an call it progress. Bu' comin' up wit' new and better waysa killin' people, tha' ain' progress, Belle Ivers. Tha's lunacy. Creatin' death only brings humanity closer ta its end. An ever' time yer ethics says it be okay ta make somethin' like tha because ya got incentive, ya bring us all closer ta th' end."

He arched an eyebrow at the response about ghost rock. It was precisely what he'd expected from her. "So yer sayin' tha folk diggin' in the ground fer tousands o' years jus' happened ta no realize th' potential o' this stuff when they foun' it? Tha' it'd been found before, an everone jus' ignored it, never even reportin' its existence? Here be the ting, Belle Ivers - good science be challengin' the easy explanation and findin' the answers ta mysteries. Askin' question tha' need answerin' and figgerin' out wha' is really there. Mebbe ya should tink on summada mysteries more. A reasonable explanation ya come up wit off the toppa yer head ain't always th' right one."

"I speak for no one sir. I am only observing that whenever we inviduals make a decision, it has an ethical component.  Ergo, ethics are a defacto consdieration.  Whether those ethics are up to the task or not is another matter entirely.

"Ah, but there is the contradiction sir.  If you can plainly observe the phenomenon and prove it empirically, calling it a ghost, demon, spirit or other such thing is merely a matter of perception.  All you have in this instance is a material phenomenon which is not properly understood.  I will grant you there are a many things not rightly understood, but that does not make them spirits or demons.

"Your speculations, and mine, on solipsism are matters of philosophy sir, not science.  There is no scientific way to know the nature of our own minds, so for that reason I will ask you to stop with your baseless assertions that I am wrong in my belief that I am a thinking, feeling human being and am rather some kind of other creature's puppet.  If such a belief becomes pervasive, this would enable an alienation of others which could justify all manner of malign actions, yes?  This kind of thinking is much like those who believe cranial variations between ethnicities justify treating others as lesser races; even if it is true the variance itself empirically exists, it does not justify the stance taken.

"I hear myself well sir.  Context matters.  Look, what if I am the developer of this weapon you so dread, and if I do not complete my work, a mad man will kill a schoolhouse full of children?  If that is the situation, who am I to decide they should die?  That changes the decision making process and whether the action is good or evil yes?  Furthermore, what if one has to undertake the research in order to determine if some enemy of the public has such a capability?  What if your nation is going to be extinguished by an evil invasion force and the state asks you to develop such a weapon to save everyone who would die to the aggressors?  What if one has to undertake the research in order to understand how powerful the weapon truly is, and how best to counteract it?  If we do not study these things we will not have the answers to these questions.  Why do you always assume the worst?  It betrays a severe personal bias sir.

"And you make two key mistakes sir.  One, I did not make up the history of mining.  Entire civilizations rose and fell atop vast mineral deposits they did not ever find or even have reason to seek, and the ancients failed to catalog any number of useful substances observed in nature.  If mankind can forget how to mix concrete for several thousand years, it should not surprise anyone other things of great import can go unnoticed for extended periods.  You also fail to consider that we were aided considerably by the Great Quake in the Maze, which showed us a great deal of geological data about where the substance forms, which made looking for it considerably easier.  This was, in the vernacular, a lucky break as far as geology goes anyway.

"Two, our modern methods for excavation and exploration far, far exceed anything we even had a century ago or even two decades ago.  I can do more digging with a chemistry set in a few hours than hundreds of men with picks and shovels could in days.  The engineering capabilities have advanced radically.  I daresay in the next century we will move more earth than in all human history prior combined.  You simply cannot compare past efforts to present ones."

Belle paused for breath.

"And might I say though your hypotheticals are delightfully strange, you have an uncanny proclivity for pessimism."

James just looks at his brother for a long moment, "Yes I shot him! A lot actually, but he's either not quite human anymore or has bought some of that rather fancy Smith & Robards crap." He lowers his voice  a bit trying not to announce things, "But I did manage to get his pistol in all the commotion and previously he challenged me to a dual tomorrow at noon."

Art tipped his head to the side a little. "You do no hear yourself speak, then. You do say ethics be the foremost concern of everyone. How do tha' no be speakin' for everyone? You may tink abou' it, bu' tha' do no' mean everyone do. And tha' do no' be bias. Tha' be experience, Belle Ivers. Plenty of experience."

He shook his head at her continued misunderstanding of demons. "Demon is a name for the phenomenon, an' the capabilities' an' motivations o'the entity be clear. It is no' a matter o' perception, Miss Ivers. And it do be properly understood by many." He looked and gestured over at Kills Iron Horse, then back at Belle. "Me travllin' companion here pointed out tha' there be a malevolent creature whisperin' things in yer head. Ya c'n give it any name ya like, bu' the result be the same. You don' unnerstand it, and ya refuse ta listen ta those tha do. I believe the word fer that be hubris. Assumin' tha' other folk don' know what they're talkin' abou' an goin' along wit yer plans when warned otterwise be dangerous."

He shook his head again concerning Belle's commentary on philosophy. "It do no be philosophy, Belle Ivers. It do no be belief. The ting whispering to ya be there. Mebbe ya are no a puppet, but it do be whisperin' to ya all th' same. If ya question yer thoughts and wonder if it be comin' from somewhere else, well, mebbe ya can be smart abou what ya do and don't. IF ya don quetion, well..." Art shuddered.

Art considered Belle's hypothetical retorts concerning the building of a hugely destructive weapon. "So ya'd build somethin' tha' a madman could use ta kill tousands or mebbe hold hostage entire governments ta save a schoolhouse fulla children? You tink tha be wise? Sometimes hard decisions do haveta be made, Belle Ivers. If yer gonna take power inta yer hands, ya gotta take somma tha on yerself. Ya cannot jus' let otters make all the decisions for ya an then throw up yer hands and blame progress fer yer heinous actions. In yer example, it still do be evil. An ya shoulda ignored the thought ta develop such a ting in the first place. Thoughts like tha? Jus' throw 'em outta yer mind and never look back. If someone else be workin' on such a ting, figger out how ta find the person, break their work, burn the plans, and jail them. Don' make one jus' like it. Tha' be lunacy."

He raised a single finger. "And I did no forget the great quake that cracked the earth ou' West. I do know that it be an interestin' coincidence tha' ghost rock started showin' up jus' then. An' tha' the quake jus' happened ta show folk the substance, makin' it so obvious. An tha' never, fer thousands o' years, a substance like that, that burns like that, and howls, how it never do be found. That's a lotta coincidence that do stretch the bounds o' credibility. If ya haveta come up with some terribly unlikely explanation, it prolly ain' right."

Art shrugged. "As fer me pessimism, it's only wit respect ta doze tha' have a conduit ta the mouths of evil tha' make me pessimistic. There do be much good in the world still. But those tha' are virtuous do gotta stand up fer what be right. If they do no, then, well, then the future won' be a place I'd liketa live."

Katy was trying to keep her full attention on Logan, and wanted to give James a chance to provide his own report on the dealings with Carter, but there was a piece of information that seemed important at the moment so she looked over towards James. "Carter's gun ain't in workin' order jus' now. I put a whammy on it so it needs ta get fixed. Ain't gonna be impossible, but if yer plannin' ta use it, ya gotta either figger out how ta repair the thing or find someone that does. That scientist lady that we met outside the Bella Union might be just whatcha need."

Having said her piece, her head swiveled back so the vast majority of her attention could be on Logan again.

"You know, when I first got sent out west, I started to hear some things I didn't rightly credit till I'd seen it myself. Takes a bit o' getting' used to, but there ain't much use pretendin' things ain't what they are, far as I see it," he said, tapping his head. "You see, they might send a Marshal out to bring in a fugitive. What happens when the fugitive is one o' them? I don't have to tell you that they can be pretty nasty customers. You start to learn things about 'em. Our duties ain't supposed to, but they can bleed into dealin' with weird shit as it crops up. I don't suppose I rightly have the whole picture, but I've learned enough to keep my head connected." He sighed, taking in the room. He didn't want to let the situation get away from him. So far, things seemed alright. But there were enough powerful players in this room to cause a mess if they didn't all get along, and he knew there was at least one loose cannon in here, a man willing to kill whoever he thought deserved death. Those people always took an extra level of effort.

"But I get what you mean about humanity and all that. I first got into the business I'm in 'cause I could put my skill set to use doin' somethin' other than killin' folks for no good reason. Might be there was a good reason when it all kicked off, but I don't reckon there is one now. I figure there's a chance to do some good out here. Far as humanity's concerned, you and I are on the same side. We're out here in no man's land. I'm sure there's a reason you're out here, as there is with me. As long as we're not on cross purposes, there's no reason we can't cooperate if our approaches should align."

"And Katy? You keep callin' me Marshal, I'm gonna have to start callin' you Ranger."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:09, Thu 16 Feb 2017.

Katy looked a bit chagrined at the admonition, and averted her eyes for a moment. When her gaze came back to Logan, a smirk that he ought to remember well from childhood pulled at her lips. "Sorry, Logan. Still gettin' used ta ya bein' a US Marshal an all. Sometimes my brain takes ta new stuff better when I say it a few times." The smirk changed into a smile as she considered the whole picture. "Don't know if most anyone's got the whole picture, Logan. 'Cept mebbe Miss Wells over there." She briefly looked over at Jackie before her face turned back toward Logan. "Don't know if ya've talked ta her much, but she's the reason I'm here. If what she's said is accurate, well, some things're gonna need ta change."

Katy took another sip of whiskey, the small drinks making sure it lasted a good long while but wouldn't affect her judgement. She still held the glass even when she set it down. "I sure hope we can co-operate even when things don't align perfectly. I could use a friend here, Logan. It's not like they sent two Rangers up this way, and this is a long way from Austin. An that sure can go both ways. Sometimes I get you into trouble, and other times you get me into trouble. Just like when we were kids, right?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Thu 16 Feb 2017.

((OOC: Double post I can't delete for some reason))
This message was last edited by the player at 20:08, Thu 16 Feb 2017.

"Oh. Oh damn." Michael says. "Sorry. I...I just...I wish I'd been there, you know? Pay him back for what he did to us."

Jimmy Lonefeather blinks. "You hadn't mentioned that. I guess that explains the explosion."



Jimmy shrugs. "Frankly, I'd as soon post it to my Uncle John Turley out in Colorado. Let him go without it for good."

Oh Belle was fired up now.  She was in a worked up frenzy, ready to argue the finest points of philosophy versus science, and the fundamental misunderstanding of the scientific method... when she heard that.

Something Art said caused a sudden change of carriage and posture in Belle.  It wouldn't be accurate to call Belle aggressive before, but she was rather animated and made large gestures.  This was a shift to a more still posture, and a defiant stare gave way to a soft look of concern.

"Wait... you say she informed you of this... demon?"  Belle asked very placidly, like she'd completely forgotten about everything.

The person in question scowls at Art. [Language unknown: "E, t n o. N und hofo on omeeling onrut ne ecfor archwe, Hariha Utis."] she protests.

Art smiled at Kills Iron Horse. [Language unknown: "U, K o re ekpari reour erndes k rutveronsersnot, Ioerne Ai Ioucomver."]

Art moved to stand between Belle and Kills Iron Horse. His staff was planted firmly on the ground. "She did remind me o' tha' fact, yeah. But she do no wanna be parta this conversation." Conversation between those two would set off some fireworks. And they were trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves at first.

Belle's look of concern only intensified.

"Of course... paranoia, antisocial behavior, hostility... it all fits.  Tell me sir, has she been in extended contact with erythroxylon coca, ephedrine, methylenedioxymethamphetamine, lysergic acid diethylamide, stropharia cubensis, tetrahydrocannabinol, nicotiana rustica, amanita muscaria, or salvia divinorum?  Nicotiana rustica seems somewhat likely, but I'm not a biologist.  Has she ever been exposed to powerful electrical fields or an industrial accident?  Has she spent extended time in contact with...  no... no, this won't do.  This won't do at all.  We need a greater mind with the proper training, not some meddling chemist who cannot place all the symptoms together in a correct and comprehensive diagnostic model."

Belle stopped herself.  This was no time for her idle curiosities.

She called to Moses.  "You sir!  We must see to your errand post haste."

Her focus quickly went back to Art however.  "You win.  Now, I do not meant to alarm you sir, but I fear this poor woman could be suffering from a debilitating medical condition.  Her behavioral symptoms suggests prolonged exposure to psychotropic substances.  I cannot communicate with her directly due to the linguistic barrier and her disposition toward me, but she seems to trust you a great deal.  It would be rather irresponsible to delay your party's errands further while the poor dear's health and well being is possibly threatened, but I must make one entreaty for humanitarian assistance.

"While we look for the erstwhile Wells, will you please convince her to go see the doctor?  Then once we find this Wells, I will quit your company and remit the payment to the physician in advance and it's probably best she never knows my involvement.  I understand you may not be immediately successful as she may not want to go.  Individuals this advanced are often resistant to getting the help they need, but it is important she go sooner than later.  If she requires more visits, send for me at the Iron Dragon railyard."

Kills Iron Horse stands stock still at that. Walks the Night Alone looks at her. [Language unknown: "Romtraeve st satopo..."] He starts, but she makes a curt gesture, cutting him off, and stomps through the mud until she is glaring directly into Belle's face. Her hand snakes out, and she grabs Belle's earlobe and twists, painfully.

"Listen...to...me." She growls, in accented but perfectly understandable English. "I hear your barking just fine...bitch." She tweaks Belle's ear harder. "Do not confuse not wanting to speak your jibber-jabber with not able. I have killed your iron horses, sent them plunging off their trails to their deaths! Do not think for a moment I will let your white medicine man come near me with his poisons!"

That attention Art was trying to avoid? It is now squarely on the group, and people are staring at the scene. Someone starts shouting for the soldiers.

((OOC: aaaaaand you've just danced across KIH's last nerve. She attempts to intimidate Belle into shutting up.

08:16, Today: The Stray, on behalf of Kills Iron Horse, rolled 2,1 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,1.  Intimidation.

Um, yeah, unless Belle rolls a Crit Fail on her Spirit check to resist, that's not good enough.))

09:34, Today: Belle Ivers rolled 3,4 using D6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4.  Spirit.

Belle was stunned into silence, though perhaps not in the way the woman had intended.

She didn't yell.  She didn't go for a weapon.  She just stood there.

"Have you ever been in a train when it goes off the rails because of sabotage?  I have."  Belle spoke quietly.  "The world is fire and hatred, the sound deafens.  It was some days before I recovered my hearing, they feared me rendered deaf permanently for some time.

"I woke up in my mother's arms.  She was dead.  I would have been badly, badly burnt but for her taking me into her bosom.  My father was a horrid, burnt husk, I only knew him because I recognized his waistcoat. Our poor housekeeper was full of shrapnel.  The little girl I had been playing silly games with was mangled to pieces.  Her brother with the pronounced widow's peak was completely obliterated, literal pieces of him stuck to the wreckage."

She paused just a moment to escape the memories.  She couldn't linger on them any longer than that or she'd relive her worst nightmare over again.

"Now, I admit it is not a proud time for the industry.  Illegal lines and tracks are too common and do have to be forcefully removed, however I have a great deal of experience with this, and often the least effective way of stopping these operations is to attack the actual train directly."

Belle spoke the truth as she earnestly understood it, but there was something that escaped her even now: the larger truth.  The strange man she'd been debating with may or may not have been right on every single little point, but Belle suffered from hubris so deep she couldn't even realize it, thanks in no small part to the corruption of her own mind from the very spirit she couldn't believe in.

She had always seen herself as someone who helped turn a savage and disgraceful practice into the least damaging one possible  It was true she personally had always thought to set the sawhorses and the warning signs, triply redundant and illuminated, and precisely calculated so that the last of the three was at the point of no return, and the prior two allowed far more leeway that was strictly needed to stop.  What Belle didn't understand was that her personal practice was a rare display of basic human decency in an industry which had almost none.

And in one of the great ironies of the universe, Belle Ivers, professional saboteur, had in fact never actually derailed a train carrying passengers, despite her profession.  Even if she had been a sociopath who didn't care about the humans inside, Belle Ivers would always spare a train engine.  They were special machines unlike any other, they whispered to her.

It was also true she had been praised for these efforts, but only because someone had crunched the numbers and discovered that it cost the rival rail line more to recover a stranded train than it did to simply just lose the train.  While they recovered the engine, the fact that the engine was out of commission for so long greatly warped the economics, as did the considerable expense of the recovery operations.  Belle's thoughts for the lives of the sabotaged rival's customers and the well being of the machines themselves were never once considered by anyone besides herself and a handful of fellow Enforcers who bothered to listen to her.  And even they wrote it off as one of her many known eccentricities.

She thought her methodology becoming standard was a way she had changed the course of the rail wars for the good.  And perhaps it had saved some lives where it was followed her and there, but it was only a standard on paper and it was another step to follow that most people who were willing to blow up a bridge didn't care about.

Belle believed this practice she'd innovated to be rigidly enforced.  It wasn't.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:27, Fri 17 Feb 2017.

Art shook his head at the question, trying to interject himself between the two women. He half-expected the universe to explode when Kills Iron Horse touched Belle, given their combined mass and how opposite they were. Yet the universe survived. For now. And the time for pleasant conversation was at an end. "Okay, I tink we all needa get movin'. NOW."

Art looked around for someplace suitable for them to disappear. And not be trapped. And not draw more attention to themselves.

OOC: Don't know where that would be in our vicinity. An alley or some sort of public building with a rear exit?

Or, hey, Art can go back into preaching Mick mode as that worked so well last time.

"The place went pretty crazy ... at the end of the day I'm not sure exactly what happened in that place. Seemed like the building itself was out to get folks..." James said with a slight frown as though he didn't trust his own memories of the situation. "Regardless, we're here hunting Carter who has probably going to ground which means we need Maddox to help out as Jimmy thinks he's the guy in the know."

Matt was in the middle of helping Maddox back into the Mint when the white noise of New Science turned into threats and physicality.

He scanned the rain-soaked streets as people began to stare.

"You know," he said in a mildly harried tone, "If everyone would like to go inside, I'm sure we would all enjoy getting out of the rain, out of public. I'll buy everyone a-" he stopped, remembering how Sitting Duck ran off with his money.

"-Well, it's dry inside, anyway."

Haverford takes the files with him when he leaves, and Von Steinhof heads towards the meeting place...when it occurs to him that he does not, in fact, actually remember where he was supposed to meet up. Must be all the whiskey he downed. It was a saloon of some sort...

As he's pondering that, he sees a squad of soldiers heading rapidly towards the north of town. They had their weapons at the ready, so it seems like something interesting was going on...

---

Kills Iron Horse steps away from Belle as if she'd been burned. The Dog Soldier looks at Belle with...it looks like she can't settle on an emotion. Horror? Shame? Anger?

The arrival of Matt seems to get them moving, however. The two Cheyenne look over at Moses and Art, apparently looking to them for their lead, while the stocky Sioux just scowls.

"Injuns!" someone shouts. "We got a war party of Injuns in the streets!"

Uh-oh. And now there's a squad of blue-uniformed troops heading their way...

"Well, then, let's go get him!" Michael says.

Coot nods. "I'm ready to go, if y'all are."

"Sounds good to me." Jackie says. Wild Bill just nods.

In reply to Michael David Wilder (msg # 247):

"Good. Enough jawing already." He said. He still was mostly watching Bill. Without the Coot 's drink, or Well ' s gun, only the people like Zek had a chance to stop Bill. Those chances where not good.

Leopold flicked a speck of dust from his coat, folded his hands behind his back and strode after the troopers.

The soldiers are heading toward what looks like a group of people gathered over by the Mint. He sees a large black man, a red-headed man dressed like a native, three actual natives, that crazy scientist lady who'd been running around, someone with a marshal's badge, and that Maddox fellow.

Someone is screaming about Indians assaulting people, though it doesn't look like anyone's assaulting anyone at the moment. Also, he recognizes the red-headed man and two of the indians -- The man was the one with him when Black Kettle was killed.

Moses sighs and reaches out towards Belle. "You have much pain, Belle Ivers. And Kills Iron Horse has much pain. Little Crow, too. Everyone has pain. We carry it with us, like Buraq carried Mohammed to Jerusalem. When the load becomes to heavy, we lash out."
He takes a few steps and moves precisely between the two women, reaching out a hand towards them both. His staff falls into the mud, forgotten for now.
"Will at least you two allow Moses to bear some of your burden?"



Moses looks toward the men, then up into the sky. "Lord... Thy humble servant begs your help. Enough have died today."

He looks at Art, Little Crow and Walks the Night Alone. "Let Moses be your shield and comfort." then looks back towards the soldiers.