September 17th, 1880. Afternoon. Iron Dragon Depot, Deadwood, Sioux Nations

James and Jimmy make their way to find Maddox. They find him at the train station. A train has pulled into town, and it looks like the soldiers are inspecting everyone getting off...or trying to get through. Maddox is being questioned by a pair of soldiers.

"But look, see you, I'm tryin' to find this bastard." He snarls. He sounds fairly drunk.

"I don't care." The soldier shoves Maddox back a step. "Bounty hunters." He scowls. "We don't need your kind of scum. You want to help? Enlist. Otherwise, leave this to the proper authorities."
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:32, Wed 29 Mar 2017.

"You only went and ran all the proper authorities out of office first, didn't you?" Maddox snaps at the soldiers, batting the man nearest's hand away. "Or is the only 'proper authority' you'd consider the point of a bloody bayonet, you bunch of blue-coloured redcoats? I've told you who I am and where I've been, see you, now let me get on with it."

"Well glad we found 'em." James says nodding towards Maddox. The gunslinger closes the distance with a confidant stride, "Maddox come on, leave these fellas alone..."

"You never had any proper authority here to begin with, you limey bastard." The soldier growls. "This town was a lawless hole before we got here, and someone needs to remind you who the fuck's in charge!"

Jimmy Lonefeather steps up, putting his arm around the man's shoulder. "Hey now...no need for this. Look, maybe I can show you something that will make all this easier." He pulls out his billfold. "What do you say?" he waves it for emphasis.

The soldier grunts. "Alright? What's your offer?"

Jimmy leads the solider a short ways away. With their backs to James and Maddox, it's hard to make out what Jimmy's doing. It looks like he's slipping something out of his wallet, though.

The soldier groans. "Oh, fuck. Fine. Do whatever you want. I don't even care anymore." and he stomps off.

Jimmy flips his billfold closed and comes back, grinning. "Behold the power of authority!" James has seen this trick before. Jimmy got himself a badge of some kind somewhere and flashed it when folks were being particularly uncooperative.

"Like at Peterloo, is it? Soldiers are for fighting the enemy, see you - what happens when that enemy is the public, then? Just going to cut down anyone that wants a colony without sodding tyranny, are you?" Maddox keeps up the hectoring even as the soldier is steered out of his reach, though it trails into slured Welsh by the time Lonefeather gets out a badge that sends the man packing.

The gunslinger steps back and squints from Lonefeather to Wilder. "-And where did you get to earlier?" He deflates a little. "All right, not your fault if you were drinking off another attack of that thing you have, but he -he-" he points unsteadily at Wilder, "-has some nerve coming...coming to try and cut in on my bounties again, he does. Only let fucking Carter go, didn't you?"

Inside The Train

Trace Hargrave had had a long trip. It had taken quite a journey to reach Bismark, and from there to Deadwood, and there weren't a lot of stops along the way.

He finally had a lead, though. He'd met someone in Chicago that had seen someone matching Sibley's description and answering to her name in the company of a solicitor named Roger Sebastian. It seemed this fellow was also a gambler of some skill. Roger Sebastian worked as legal council for one of those odd secret societies common in the North -- The Enlightened Society Of Weeping Moon. It had a reputation as a club for rich eccentrics prattling on about quasi-mystical "aetheric theory" and other nonsense, but it was well-funded and widespread.

Sibley and Mr. Sebastian had left for Deadwood six months ago, according to his source. And now here he was.

But Deadwood did not feel particularly friendly. As it got closer to town, Trace had seen signs of trouble -- soldiers in Union Blue digging earthworks and hauling cannons into emplacements. The train had been stopped by soldiers once already before reaching town, and now that they'd reached the depot the soldiers were back again. They seemed to be searching for someone, judging by their terse questions. A bandit who'd shot up a saloon.

Eventually, the soldiers began calling for people to disembark...

((OOC: And you'll walk right into Maddox, James Wilder, and Jimmy Lonefeather conversing.))

James shook his head at Maddox, "Yeah yeah, how bout we go get the fucker?"

Hargrave squinted at the sky as he disembarked. He shifted his shoulders, working out some of the stiffness that had settled into them during the long ride. Being one that mostly took his rest under an open sky, he found the confinement of rail travel somewhat oppressive and was thankful that the extended journey had come to a close. Perhaps it would all prove worth it if he located Sibley. The lead about Sebastian was the most promising clue he'd come across in a long time. In the meanwhile, he sensed that caution was in order. The sight of so many soldiers digging emplacements and talk of someone who had shot up a saloon told him that Deadwood was a lively place, in all of the wrong ways.

Spotting a group of men nearby, he shouldered his Bullard and approached them cautiously. "Pardon me for interrupting," he said, fatigue allowing a hint of his English accent to surface, "I'm new here in town and I was hoping one of you might be able to point me to a reputable stable. And the nearest saloon."

James only glanced at the newcomer for a moment as his mind was else where.

He did give the info the man asked for however, "Carmichael's Livery is that way," he pointed towards the stable. "The Mint is over there," and he gestured towards the saloon he, Jimmy and Maddox had recently vacated.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Wed 08 Mar 2017.

The tall, handsome fellow with raven-black curls looks like he might to be about to throw a punch at the man answering Trace, but looks over at the newcomer all the same with a slight suspicious frown at the accent. His eyes are a striking emerald green.

"That would be about the only bar left standing at present, save for the coloured place," Maddox says, his Welsh accent unfaded and unmistakeable as a native speaker. "Watch out for the giant preacher...oh, and there'll probably be a fight by there now this minute, just Starkweather and his vendetta against any Whateley he hears tell of, like the bastards would need antagonising."

Despite this being the logical end of the advice, he keeps going, apparently slightly drunk. "-and this town is full of 'American customs', see you, like back-shooting, fire-setting and letting bloody mass-murderers go if they ask nicely or propose a duel-" he rounds on Wilder again. "-you think I'm going to work with you again when you threatened to cut down anyone who 'got in your way', do you? So you can get extra-judicial on me, yes, and grab your willy while you shoot him in the head? Why the raw woolly fuck would I trust you again?"

"Thank you," Hargrave said politely. "I'll certainly stay wary for trouble." Giving the men a nod, he made his way down the length of the train until he reached the cars where the horses were being unloaded. Once he'd collected his paint stallion Rio, along with his saddle and bridle, he walked slowly to Carmichael's Livery, taking in what he could see of Deadwood as he went.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:09, Wed 08 Mar 2017.

James gave Maddox a blank look as though the man was talking out of his ass or perhaps using words that James didn't quite understand. "You don't know the shit that Carter can do. The duel defused him from the chaos back there. Get off ya damn drunk high horse with that fancy vest and realize that we're going after the fuck now."

"I know I had him right there, I did, and if you hadn't sided with Nicodemus fucking Whateley in hopes of a duel that was never going to happen, he'd be in custody right now the very minute!" Maddox snaps. "I know the kind of shit he is doing at this moment, he is, because of it!"

"He'll have crashed in on a family who'll be sending the soldiers away from him because otherwise he'll shoot the hostage he's probably fucking in the back room to pass the time as he does - someone's daughter, or their mum!"

"-and you don't even care! 'Oh well, I shot him, good for me, screw justice for the rest of his victims', that's how it is, isn't it? No! You can go to Hell, you can. I'm not being shot in the back by the likes of you, see you." Maddox swallows, fairly trembling with a rage that's probably been building for months of attempting to bring some kind of equitable law to this hellhole town.

He turns away but makes a sweeping gesture up past the railyard. "Go check the warehouses. If he was hiding somewhere empty he'd be there," he growls, clearly doubting it would be of use but offering the information in case James should get lucky. "Drop my name if the Kangers interfere."

Jimmy coughs. "Wait a moment, Maddox." he says. "You're in no condition to take on Carter alone. I don't have a personal stake in this -- I just want to see Carter stopped. We can do that better together than we can apart." he hefts his Gatling pistol. "I can keep an eye on James, if you're worried about him. Perhaps if we hadn't gotten separated, I could have helped you finish this thing, but we're here now."

---

((OOC: So much for getting Trace involved in that bit, then. Ah, well.))

Trace takes Rio down main street. He suspected that normally it was a bustling hive of activity, but there was an odd sense in the air. Something that made his hair stand on end. Perhaps it was just the drizzling rain that beat down, turning the street into a stinking mire. Perhaps it had something to do with that escaped outlaw he'd heard them argue about at the station.

But then, he passed a group of gutted wrecks near the train station -- saloons that looked like they'd been in the middle of a war zone, complete with a scorched crater in the middle of the street. He saw bands of armed soldiers moving into and out of buildings. A band of armed men wearing tin badges stamped DMA passed him by, looking him up and down in an unfriendly manner.

No, maybe it wasn't just the weather after all.

He reached the Livery after a slog through the mud. There was a blacksmith attached to the corral, and a black man hammering out horseshoes.

"Howdy, suh." He says. "Sho' is a bad day fo' ridin'."

Maddox looks back, fully aware of his need for allies. "Can you, though? This man betrays me when things get hot and then comes up to start giving me orders like I'm his dog, see you, and he was something keen to shoot you when you had that fit."

"I'm not having him come with me unless he swears he'll let me take Carter to the law, see you, unless there's no other choice to it."

James shook his head as he listened to Maddox, part of the him wanted to shoot the drunk fellow and go after Carter without him. He ran through the happenings in the salon which he didn't recall as Maddox was saying it, but arguing with a drunk man is about as good as arguing with a wall. His fingers danced near his gun as his mind ran though events but he remained quiet still.

"That...that looked bad, I admit, but there was a reason for it." Jimmy said. "But it worked out, in the end." He winces as he says that, like he just knows how not reassuring that is.

" ... Fine ... We'll bring the fucker to the law ... " James said. "Let's go and find 'em."

"It's the other way that would've 'worked out' I'm concerned about, see you," Maddox reponds to Lonefeather, then gives James a suspicious and still hostile kind of squint.

"Swear that on something that means anything to you, and I might believe you," he says with the careful articulation of the serious but less than sober.

"I swear on my dead family that Carter will be brought to justice."

"Your kind of 'justice'," Maddox nods at Wilder's gun, then looks him dead in the eye, "-or your father's?" His tone abruptly drops low, almost gentle as he adds "...because what's this all worth, if you disrespect the memory of a fine lawman like that?"

Hargrave nodded in agreement. "You're right. It's the kind of weather that'll make you catch your death," He glanced up at the sky, then at the burned out husks of buildings nearby. "Looks like there's been plenty of threats to good health around here of late."

He cleared his throat. "I was hoping you would have room to stable my horse. I'm not planning to stay in Deadwood terribly long. Perhaps a week. I'm just here to attend to some business."

The man nods. "It sho' be, at thet." he says. "They say the ghost o' Ol' Wild Bill Hickok burned down the Gem a week ago, tho' the soldjas say it was Injuns. Took the Numba 10 with it. Then, jus' this mornin', bandits robbed and blew up the Bella Union. The soldja is lookin' fer them what did et now."

He nods at the request. "Stablin's a buck fiddy a day, an' 'll cover feedin' and shoein' and brushin'."

"That's a fair price," Hargrave said, counting out ten dollars and fifty cents and handing the money to the man. Nodding at the horse, he added, "Sometimes he gets a little anxious when it's time to shoe him, but if you talk to him for a minute, he'll settle down."

He wasn't certain how to respond to talk of Hickock's ghost, though his experience wouldn't allow him to dismiss such an idea as fiction. The activities of the bandits certainly explained all of the soldiers' activity, as well as the discussion he'd overheard from the men at the depot. Bounty hunters, most likely. "Blowing up a saloon. Quite bold. No wonder everyone's on edge."

"You wouldn't happen to know of a reputable boarding nearby, would you, sir?"

The stablemaster nods. "Indeed it be, suh. Indeed it be." He thinks. "Whelp, most o' the boardin' houses 'round here expect you to be rentin' feminine companionship along wit de room, if'n ya catch my drift. The High Times Saloon Lee'd best fo' that, if'n that tickle yo' fancy. If not...normally, I'd recommend the Grand Central Hotel, right across from here, but dat be full up wit soldiers right nah. There was another bordin' house on Deadwood & Williams...o' was it Williams an' Wall? Anyhow, I ain't so shur on't. Most minin' folk, they's gets a tent and rents a lot fo' five dolla a week, o' they's roughin' it at they claim. You wanna see Joe Bearclaw at the Office o' Minin' Affairs about thet. It's right next to the Grand Central over here."

Hargrave considered the options and smiled. "Finding a lot with the miners sounds like it might be the best option, all things considered," He said, "I'm obliged for all the information. Thank you kindly."

Shouldering his saddle bags, he shook the man's hand and headed off in the direction of the Mining Affairs office.

The Office Of Mining Affairs isn't very large. In fact, it resembles nothing more than a small-town bank. Three clerks who appear to be Sioux but are dressed in sharp Back East suits sit behind the teller's windows. Apart from them, there's an office in the back, as well as several large locked filing cabinets and a closed vault.

There's a sense of tension in the air. The clerks eye Trace suspiciously as he approaches.

"I am sorry, sir." One of the clerks says in very good English. "Due to the recent occupation, The Sioux Nations have suspended registration of all new claims and will be granting no new prospecting permits, nor renewing old ones."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:34, Sun 12 Mar 2017.

Hargrave smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, sir. I'm not interested in filing a claim. A gentleman at the livery mentioned that a man could rent a lot here, where he could pitch a tent and sleep. I had hoped to speak to someone about that, if there are any such lots still available."

((OOC: Still waiting on an answer here...))

In reply to Trace Hargrave (msg # 28):

The clerk nods. "Then you want to speak with Joseph Bearclaw. Come on back to the office." He opens the door to the back, then leads Trace inside.

Joseph Bearclaw turns out to be another Sioux man in a Back East suit, sitting behind a desk filled with papers. He looks up from whatever it is he's writing. "Yes? May I help you?"

In reply to Maddox (msg # 21):

"I need your help to bring the fuck'r to justice ... mine, yours, my father ... someones' justice." James said quietly. "I'm not my father, dreams of being a lawman like him died thanks to Carter and his cronies."

OOC: Sorry was in Portland for the weekend :D

Maddox wipes blown rain off the end of his nose uncertainly, almost missing, and looks to Lonefeather, then back to James.

"Carter can take some of your choices, see you, but not all of them...all right. I-" he takes a long blink, rubbing the flush across his cheeks a bit. "I've made a map of where he could concievably get to and go to ground in the time he had, and narrowed that to where...where he could get hostages. See you, there's more empty cars, badly-patrolled warehouses, and mixed dens and brothels this side of the tracks."

"If he's smarting a bit from the thrashing but smug as hell he walked out-" Wilder still gets a frown there, "-he'll want to take it out on someone. If he hasn't - and I pray he hasn't, I truly do, with all my soul there - roamed around back of the warehouses and swung back to those shanty plots with families, it's a good bet he'll be hiding in the rail yard or the Cathouse. The Celestials would spot him and call thugs if he'd broken into one of their houses - the Triads' perrogative, that is."

He digs out a crumpled map on the back of a Wanted poster and holds it out vaguely in the other bounty hunters' direction.

In reply to Joseph Bearclaw (msg # 30):

Hargrave nodded politely. "Mister Bearclaw, my name is Trace Hargrave. I'm visiting Deadwood and was told that I might be able to rent a lot where I could raise a tent, have a place to sleep at night. Would you have any available, sir?"

In reply to Maddox (msg # 32):

James nodded, "I would think he'd head back for his gun but with the amount of soldiers on the street he isn't dumb enough to do that ... Pistol Pete would've but not Carter. He views folks as assets, useless distractions, or obstacles so the question is how do we stack up to him currently."

In reply to Trace Hargrave (msg # 33):

Mr. Bearclaw nods. "Ah. Alright." He opens the bureau next to him and pulls out a file folder, then rifles through it. "Ah. Hmmm. While I don't have any empty lots -- the soldiers have sort of bivouacked themselves in the open areas without permission -- I do have a number of tenants who are late on their monthly rent." he pulls out a sheet. "There is one in particular who is a pebble in my shoe. His name is Raymond Carver, but most people call this disreputable lout 'Mad Dog.' He has missed three payments so far, and it is not because he hasn't the funds." Bearclaw leans back. "Would you be willing to serve Mr. Carver an eviction notice for me? Once he's gone, his lot will be available, and I would be willing to rent you the lot free for the first month."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:27, Tue 14 Mar 2017.

Hargrave cocked an eyebrow. "I'm certainly open to doing that, Mr. Bearclaw," he said, "But if you'll forgive me for speaking plainly, if Mr. Carver is three payments behind, I'm curious as to why you haven't evicted him sooner."

"And well you should ask!" Mr. Bearclaw says with a charming smile. "First off, Mr. Carver is...shall we say, quite a disagreeable person. He has outright threatened bodily harm against those in my employ who have been sent to serve him notice in the past. And, prior to Custer's arrival, vacating Mr. Carver's lot was not a high priority, especially since he spends so little time there. He's a miner, you see, and like many miners often bivouacs at his claim." He leans back and steeples his fingers together. "This problem is not unique to Mr. Carver. A great many miners rent lots initially, then fail to maintain them while they mine. But Mr. Carver...well, let us say that does not like my people very much. He feels that we are beneath him. I feel that the message would be better served coming from someone who shared his skin color." He smiles again, that same somewhat greasy smile.

((OOC: Notice check, please.))

In reply to James Wilder (msg # 34):

"So you think he's going for a gun first? Or what?" Jimmy asks. "Basically, where should we start looking? He's probably not thinking about us at all, being more worried about the soldiers." He looks at Maddox's map. "The Cathouse...I've been hearing some strange things about that place since we hit town. Isn't that where all those wrinkled-up bodies were found? Also, wasn't Bullock seeing the Madam for a while? If Carter showed up there, wouldn't she call Bullock in? Or was their break up bad enough that she might hide someone like Carter just out of spite?"

Maddox looks confused at Wilder, then just about manages to focus on Lonefeather's questions. "He broke it off quite sharp when his wife got involved, see you, I think she'd just not recognise him until he had some good earner with a gun to her head. That might work on her...the other brothels this side would just cut through the whore and order a couple more girls from West. They...they just use them up." Maddox shakes his head to clear it.

"About shrivelled bodies I don't know. Exaggeration of some venereal disease I imagine, though those girls are supposed to be clean. Got a couple of bouncers, I think, but it's hard telling an outlaw from a miner around here, with the overlap there is."

"Asking around to see if he did cross over at this point would be where I was starting," he adds. "You two might want to hang back on that, or take a look around the warehouses meanwhile, I don't know."

In reply to Joseph Bearclaw (msg # 37):

Hargrave nodded in response to the information. "Would you happen to know if Carver has had any problems with the law?" he asked.

18:34, Today: Trace Hargrave rolled 4,10 using 1d8+2,1d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+2)8.  Notice.

"You would have to ask Mr. Seth Bullock about that, I'm afraid. He would know more than I about Mr. Carver's encounters with the law outside the Sioux Nations, and I don't have any jurisdiction on matters outside my purview as head administrator of the Sioux nations mining claim system."

Trace gets the impression Mr. Bearclaw isn't telling him the whole truth about the situation. He's not lying, exactly, but he's being very careful to dance around something.

In reply to James Lonefeather (msg # 38) and Maddox (msg # 39):

"No, he'll have a back up pistol ... usually a Colt Navy. Fuck if I know where the guy is ... that's why we came to get Maddox." James said shaking his head at Longfeather. His eyes shift to Maddox, "Fine ... we'll go make ourselves scarse while you go asking for information."

"We'll check out the warehouses, and meet back here in an hour." Jimmy says.

((OOC: So I'll have Maddox make a Streetwise check for this. James, make a Tracking check.))

Maddox eventually manages to get some of the locals to talk to him, more or less.

[[19:23, Today: Maddox rolled 1,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2.  Streetwise.
19:24, Today: Maddox rolled 3 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3.  red add. -1 for being cognitively impaired, that's a 4.]]

Wilder wasn't tracks for the pair of James currently walk through the rainy streets of Deadwood ... honestly he'd forgotten much of the meager survival skills he'd learned as a boy but every so often he got something right...

OOC:
12:43, Today: James Wilder rolled 1,0 using d4-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 3,2.  Tracking (unskilled).
12:43, Today: James Wilder rolled 7 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+1)7.  Red Chip +d6.
1 + 7 == 8

In reply to Joseph Bearclaw (msg # 41):

Hargrave was quiet for a moment, considering what he'd been told, and what he'd observed. "Mr. Bearclaw, I traveled to Deadwood in hopes of locating a family member I lost contact with years ago. I didn't necessarily come here to work, but I'll tell you truthfully that I've made my living helping ranchers rid themselves of rustlers and defending miners' claims from those that would steal from them. So please understand, I don't have a problem with evicting some ill tempered brawler who refuses to pay you what he owes."

He sighed, looking at Bearclaw pointedly. "But doing something like this...well, I prefer to know all the facts. And respectfully, sir, I can't shake the feeling that there's something important you're not telling me."

In reply to Trace Hargrave (msg # 46):

Mr. Bearclaw nods. "Of course, of course. It's just that Mad Dog Carver has some friends in the Deadwood Miner's Alliance. Friends who objected quite strongly to my previous attempts at collection. Mad Dog thinks he's making some sort of political statement by not paying what is due -- he actually owes on his monthly permit fee, as well, but his friends have been chasing off my kinsmen. This whole situation is escalating. It would be unfortunate if my kin in the hills had to make an example of him. I see this as a way of reminding him about his obligations. If you are hesitant, i could offer you some small recompense? Say, ten dollars in cash, with an additional twenty if you convince him to remit his payment to us? I might even be able to assist you locating this family member -- would he have come to Deadwood to mine? I have records of all registered claims here."

In reply to James Wilder (msg # 45):

Checking out the warehouses yielded nothing (though James and Jimmy did find a warehouse that stank of dead bodies guarded by some rough-looking tongs who didn't appreciate their presence). It was a possible lead, but eventually they met back up with Maddox, who had talked to somebody who'd seen Carter's description steal a meat cleaver from Wong's Butcher Shop and then enter The Cathouse.

They'd also attracted a large number of stray cats. As they talked, they couldn't help but notice eyes glinting in darkened alleys, watching them.

"Nothing like a wild goose chase in the rain to make for a great afternoon."

"That's more than fair, sir," Hargrave responded, "I'll serve the notice. And I'll make it clear that it's the result of a debt that's been honestly accrued. Nothing political. I'll make an honest effort to talk to the man. Explain that no one involved is interested in the conflict becoming a physical confrontation. We'll see how it goes."

"I'm appreciative of the offer of help, sir. But the young lady I'm looking for, my sister, isn't a miner. She's a singer. A fine one. I'd heard she'd possibly traveled here."

He shifted his saddlebags on his shoulder. "Could You tell me where Mr. Carver's claim is located?"

"What, you always find your bounties the first place you look, do you?" Maddox says with bemusement. "You are still very welcome to piss off if you don't like my methods, but the fact that the people here halfway trust me would be how I know Carter is very likely still in that building," he nods at the Cathouse, "-and presently armed with a cleaver, with which he is probably threatening to chop some girl up bit by bit if Delgato says he's here."

"Do you have a plan, or do I go get a girl and leave a door open to the balcony? I'd like to do this with a very minimum of dead whores, see you. None would be favourite."

In reply to Trace Hargrave (msg # 50):

"Well, I will keep my ears open, in that case. You could check the Langrishe Theater or Nye's Opera House -- both of those venues have performers on staff." Bearclaw pulls out some paperwork which he signs. "Mr. Carver's claim is out in the Black Hills, near Bear Gulch. It's eight miles, as long as you stick to the trails -- you may find yourself quite lost if you try to go overland, and you'll have to cross Spearfish Canyon. The bandits that dwell there love nothing more than holding up lone travelers. So please, stick to the trails. You'll come to a trading post called Hobbeson's Hole -- Mr. Carver frequents the bar there. His claim is a stone's throw from the trading post."

He pulls out a small map and marks it,  then pulls out a strange-looking item. It's a stick, about a foot long, wrapped in dyed wool and beaded. The bottom of the stick is bare. "Here you are." He hands the stick to Trace. "If you are challenged by a Sioux patrol, show them this. It signifies that you are acting under my authority. The leader of the patrol will notch the bottom. Avoid accruing more than a dozen notches if you wish to avoid being dragged back to Deadwood behind a horse."

In reply to Maddox (msg # 51):

"Maddox, why do you need to be the one to do the infiltratin'?" Jimmy says. "You're known around here. Do people really think you're the type to get a girl for the evening? You seem a bit too tightly wound for that. James, you're no good, because Carter knows you. But he doesn't know me from Adam. I should be the one to go in, get the lay of the place, and open the way to let you all in."

Maddox mutters something about not wanting to bed someone if he didn't mean it, but does in fact listen. "Well do you have any Cantonese to speak of?"

James shakes his head. "Not really. I'm half Crow, so I know my tribe's tongue. I know how to cuss out someone in Sioux and Cheyenne, and I learned some Kiowa going through the Coyote Confederation. Never could get the hang of Chinese." he shrugs. "But you can also get a feel of a room, even if you don't speak the language. There's a difference between everyone being status quo, and everyone trying to fake being status quo."

"All right, but neither does Carter, see you, so you'll want to ask the girl [Language unknown: ounarewhi tadi ck pro ntpl ch i isanar?n]  when she makes to check you over for syphilis. Then she might actually help."

James listed to the two bounty hunters argue, he felt like he was listening to a pissing match  but honestly didn't care which one could piss farther or longer. "You wanna wait out back or up from Maddox?"

[[what arguing?]]

"They have bouncers: we'll have to either scale the fence alongside the outside stairs by there, or get up on the roof of the privies from the pig huts across the way, then over to the main roof to the balcony." Maddox gestures not entirely accurately at the buildings in question.

Hargrave listened carefully to the directions and instructions that Bearclaw provided. "I appreciate you giving me the names of those venues. I'll do my best to make this errand a quick one," he assured the man. "One last question, sir. This political business. What is it about? In my mind, the only 'statement' that Carver's making by refusing to pay a rent he agree to is that he's dishonest. Is he disputing that this is your people's rightful home?"

"You could put it that way, yes." Mr. Bearclaw says. "The DMA was formed by miners who illegally crossed into our lands and dug into Deadwood creek. My people tossed them out, but they came back, digging in like ticks." he scowls. "Frank Bryant is one of the loudest voices in town calling for us being removed from our ancestral lands so he and his ilk can tear them apart. They don't like that they have to pay money to a 'filthy redskin' in order to work the Black Hills. But I fail to see how it would be any different if, say, George Hearst set up a company town or the US were to annex our lands -- he would still have to pay someone, and at least our arrangement allows individuals to keep more of what they mine while allowing The Lakota a pathway to financial independence from the United States."

In reply to Maddox (msg # 58):

"Sounds like scaling a fence it is then, got no desire to climb outhouses."

Maddox nodded. "Your call, Lonefeather. We'll wait by yir until we see you get a room."

He looked down at an unusally bold cat who'd drifted out of the collection of strays downalley and decided to brush against his leg. "What?"

Silently, he committed the name Frank Bryant to memory, wondering if serving Carver with notice would attract the animosity of the man.

"I suppose there will always be those that want to live outside the law, no matter how fair and reasonable it might be," he said. "I'll get Carver served, sir, and I'll report back as soon as it's done."

He paused, then added, "I'd like to speak with this Seth Bullock before I head for Carver's claim. Could you tell me where best to find him?"

In reply to Maddox (msg # 62):

Jimmy nods. "Get in position." Then, whistling a jaunty tune, he strides into the Cathouse, leaving Maddox and James to do that.

It takes a little while, what with Maddox being more than slightly drunk, but he and Wilder make it over the fence. They've garnered the attention of a few cats, but no one from inside.

After a few minutes, Jimmy opens the back door and waves at the pair. He's frowning.

"There's somethin' mighty odd goin' on here." He whispers. "It's got my hackles up. This place isn't just calm...when I said that thing you told me to the girl, she just giggled. She said 'don't worry about him, The Mistress is taking care of him.' And from the way she was grinning, I don't think she meant that in the carnal sense."

In reply to Trace Hargrave (msg # 63):

"I can..." Mr. Bearclaw hedges, and frowns. "But I'm not sure if I should. Mr. Bullock's family and business partner were attacked by some jealous rivals during the fires earlier this week. They burned down the jail and his store and shot his wife, for whom he is currently caring. His house is on Sherman Street, but he may not be receiving visitors at this time."

Maddox dusts himself down a bit more, having recently tried to drop with catlike grace off a fence and miscalculated the heights entirely. "What?" he straightens his hat and looks about. "Is she there, your, er, girl?"

Jimmy turns and gestures, and a dark-skinned woman peeks her head out of the door. "Yes?" She asks. "You all bounty hunters?"

"Ah, we would be that, yes," Maddox says, simultaneously relieved the prostitute was not raising the alarm over two non-clients on the premises and a little awkward in addressing a lady of the night. "Does Madame Delgato plan to kill him, do you know?"

Maddox attempts a trustworthy smile but studies the stairs more than the 'girl', clearly not quite sober. "Only it'd be really good if we could get him alive enough to tell us about his friends in the hills, see you, and, um, get him hanged properly so that any other surviving victims know he didn't just vanish off scot free like he might."

He looks at James. "I'm guessing Wilder here might want to kick him in the balls, too...but you're sure your -Madam can handle him?"

"If he ain't dead already, he soon will be." The woman says with a shrug. "He chose the wrong whorehouse to take hostage. Madame Delgato's our dark angel. We'll bring what's left of him to you...for a cut of that bounty on his head."

Maddox held a hand in front of Wilder in case he was thinking of barging in. "She can have the entirety of my share if she leaves him breathing or gets the information out of him, how's that? Or-" he swallows, gaze briefly skimming across her face on the way to her hands.

"-or you can tell her I'll go 25% on him and anyone I catch in the woods, and pocket the difference on Carter for yourself."

In reply to Joseph Bearclaw (msg # 65):

Hargrave shook his head. "No, no. I'll leave Mr. Bullock be. It sounds as though be has more important matters to attend to than discussing Mad Dog Carver."

"I'll be on my way then. I'll return when the job's done."

Departing the Mining Office, he walked back to the livery, hopeful that Rio would be ready for a ride.

As Trace arrives at the livery, he spots a gaggle of trouble. Several nasty-looking men with various flavors of firearms are huddled around the livery. All of them sport a silver badge with the letters DMA stamped on them.

One of the men is a vaugely familiar fellow with a mustache who has the air of a gunslinger about him. He's leaning against the stable wall, keeping a weather eye out.

Another, much rougher fellow with long scraggly hair underneath his hat and unkempt beard glares at Trace and hefts his scattergun. It's not quite pointed at him, but it's tracking his movements.

Another hardcase, this one with a five o'clock shadow and well-worn trail gear, snarls at someone inside the livery.

"I ain't gonna ask you again, nigger." He growls. "You tell me about that horse there and the fella ridin' it, or I'm gonna tie  you up and make you dance a hempen fandango!"

((OOC: Make me a Common Knowledge check, please.))

Before stepping into the midst of the gathering, Hargrave studied the group for a moment, paying particular attention to the gunman who struck a chord of familiarity. As he did, he shifted his rifle to his left hand, so his right could reach the pistol at his hip.

07:08, Today: Trace Hargrave rolled 9,2 using 1d6,1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+3)9,2.  Common Knowledge.

In reply to Maddox (msg # 70):

((OOC: Just a note: I'm waiting for James to weigh in here before I continue on Maddox's storyline.))

In reply to Trace Hargrave (msg # 73):

((OOC: I'm moving Trace's storyline into a new thread, as I'm about to mingle up some of the other PCs with it.))

In reply to Maddox (msg # 70):

James looks at Maddox as though the man had grown a third eye, "Ain't gonna run in there, I know better than to cross a madam.... Perhaps we should go in and ASK about things... yeah?"

"That would be up to the girl here, wouldn't it? Or did you think we were keeping our voices down for the sake of amateur dramatics?" Maddox gestures with some irritation, then looks a little mortified to have used that term of a coloured woman.

The girl nods. "Alright. You wait here, and I'll go see what she says."

At that moment, though, there's a {crash!} as a huddled figure flies through a nearby window. Glass sprays around the man as he hits the ground, rolls with the momentum, and ends up in a crouch. He looks up at the window he'd just exited, sheer horror etched on his face.

It's Darius Carter! But he looks frail, withered, as if he'd aged thirty years since the Bella Union fight.

He turns his gaze to the trio on the stairwell. "Oh, fuck!"

Acting more on instinct than any sober calculation, Maddox's gun is suddenly out and barking out a shot at the man's legs.

[[In the heat of the moment, Maddox forgets all the sensible things he's said and tries to slow Carter down by shooting him. Drunk Maddox is Not Smart.

22:03, Today: Maddox rolled 3,4 using d10-1,d6-1, rerolling max with rolls of 4,5.  Shooting! (Quick Draw, +2 Marksman, -2 Called Shot, legs - I think? - -1 pished)
22:04, Today: Maddox rolled 8 using 2d6+1, rerolling max with rolls of 2,5.  Damage if hit.]]

Carter howls at the flesh wound in his leg, and pulls his own gun to fire back.

There's a sudden bright flash as his gun spits actual fire. The flare strikes near the door, burning fiercely, but it doesn't catch the rest of the building on fire, which was evidently Carter's aim. The outlaw curses and hobbles to cover in the alley.

((OOC: That hit gets around Carter's armor, and his Vigor is reduced thanks to what he encountered within the Cathouse, so that will Shake Carter. It will also saddle him with the Lame Hindrance for the duration of the encounter, lowering his Pace by 2 and lowering his Run die to a d4.

Carter spends a GM chip to Unshake, and then fires a Guiding Light bullet at the Cathouse to set it on fire. It will ignite the structure on a 4-6 on a d6.

10:06, Today: Darius Carter rolled 3 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3.  Fuego!

The building does not catch fire.

Carter limps away, taking Cover in a nearby alley (He has Heavy Cover unless someone moves to hit him)

Let's start drawing initiative cards

Cart's card: 7S))

---

James Wilder, you're up!

"You GOT to be kidding me!" the gunslinger growls as Carter arrives. His gun is out and fires at Carter.

OOC:
08:18, Today: James Wilder rolled 4,-1 using d12-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 7,2.  Shooting (Called Shot Head -4, +1 TMW).
08:18, Today: James Wilder rolled -1,0 using d12-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 2,3.  White Chip.

Okay ... does 4 actually hit?!

08:19, Today: James Wilder rolled 10 using 2d6+5, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4.  Damage (AP1, +4 Head).

08:20, Today: James Wilder drew the single card: JS using a deck of 54 cards.  Initiative.

This message was last edited by the player at 15:20, Wed 05 Apr 2017.

"ARGH!" Carter yelps in pain as the bullet grazes him, and he stumbles, but yet again his hard head saves him.

Lonefeather runs down the stairs, pulling his Gatling pistol free, and sprays the area around Carter's knees with lead.

{wirr-RAT-TAT-TAT!}

"AUGH!" Carter yelps again, and this time he tumbles with a new oozing hole in his thigh. "FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

((OOC: Assuming James is moving to compensate for the Cover Carter was taking, that's indeed a hit.

10 against his reduced Toughness (and the headshot to get around his armor) is a Wound. He spends one of his chips and attempts to soak.

12:09, Today: Darius Carter rolled 5,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5,1.  Soak.

Carter again soaks a head wound.

James Lonefeather moves and shoots Carter with his Gatling Pistol, aiming for the legs. He has Rock and Roll! to cancel out the autofire penalty.

12:13, Today: James Lonefeather rolled 6,2,1 using d10-2,d10-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 8,4,3.  Shooting (RoF 2, Called Shot). 1 Hit.

Damage: 6, which is a Shaken. Also, The Lame hindrance Carter's got becomes One Leg. Carter's Pace becomes 2, he can't run, and he suffers -2 to Trait checks that require mobility (such as Climbing or Fighting. This injury is only temporary, though. But with three guns on him and him being unable to run, this probably won't end well for him.

Lonefeather's cards: 7S, 4C))

---

Maddox, draw a card for initiative. If you don't get higher than a Jack, it's Wilder's turn again.

"Alright! I think you got him there! Let's get and capture him now, proper-like," Maddox says, vaguely offering five dollars at the whore as the first note to hand.

[[20:26, Today: Maddox drew the single card: 3C using the Deadlands system.  init.]]

"You...you cocksuckers...you motherfuckers..." Carter curses as he lies in the dirt. "Wh-what...about...our deal..."

---

It's all up to Wilder now!

OOC: how many chips does Carter have? I'm thinking I'd like to steal one :D James glanced at the others who were shooting Carter in the legs as though such things would stop him.

James shrugs, "Well you're not dead yet... put your hands up and come with us."

"Fine." Carter spits, and tosses his gun away. He doesn't look like he's going to be standing anytime soon, though.

((OOC: He's got 1 red chip left.))

Maddox reaches for a set of handcuffs that aren't there, looks rather abashed and hastens down after Lonefeather.

[[we out of combat?]]

((OOC: Combat over. Now what do you do?))

James looked between the two bounty hunters but kept his gun on Carter, "Come on now fella..."

"I blew up my cuffs with Bones," Maddox says, catching up to Wilder. "Unless you've got restraints on you we'll have to tie his hands with his shirt there. Darius Carter, you can consider yourself arrested."

"Lonef- ah, I'll go inform the DMA myself, shall I?" He looks uneasily back at the Cathouse, then at the other two.

Lonefeather unbuckles his belt and bends down to tie up Carter's arms. "Poor devil looks wrung out." he says, and looks back up at the Cathouse, following Maddox's gaze. "What the Hell happened up there?"

"Damn bitch was stealing my breath away." Carter grumbles. "She ain't what she seems...look in her mirror, you'll see what I mean."

There, looking out of the window the outlaw had jumped through, was an exotic, dark-haired woman with bewitching violet eyes. She gives Maddox a small smirk.

Flustered by the combination of a smirking madam and Carter's description of exotic-sounding practices, Maddox flushes. "Thank you, er, ma'am!" he calls up.

Noting the strange woman but having NO desire to deal with more than one unnatural person in the rain. "Let's deal with the demon in front of us."

In reply to Maddox (msg # 92):

"You're welcome!" The woman in the window calls back. "Remember now...you owe me your share for leaving enough of him for you to question!"

A nearby cat crouched on a crate in the alley begins purring.

Lonefeather hauls Cater into a fireman's carry. "Alright...let's leave this eerie-ass place and get on with our increasingly eerie-ass day."

Maddox gives the madam a thumbs up, only belatedly frowning at how fast she heard that offer three steps down the road. "..." He shakes it off and heads for the stockade with the rest.

James, Lonefeather, and Maddox haul Carter out of Celestial Alley, and reach the train depot before they gain any sort of attention.

Of course, the attention they gather is that of a bunch of men with guns wearing the badges of the DMA. About a half-dozen men lead by Frank Bryant approach the trio of bounty hunters. The huge miner looks at the outlaw.

"Good to see you again, Maddox," He says, twirling a pearl-handled Colt Navy and sliding it into his holster. "So, you caught the bastard?"

"Oh, that I have Mr.Bryant. Well, luck had it that for some reason he thought letting that madam Delgato get equipped for strangling him was a good idea, then he changed his mind and ran out right in front of us. It's Lonefeather's shot made that wound by there, and that one's mine that's still bleeding." He points out the bandit's injuries.

"I'd appreciate if we could stick him up at the stockade, get to questioning and maybe get some leads on the fellows in the hills before Custer gets word he's caught, see you."

Bryant nods. "Sounds good to me." He grins at Carter. "So. Look at you. Big bad Darius Carter, caught with your pants down at the cat lady's place."

"You ain't got no idea what that creature is." Carter growls. "She ain't a lady. She ain't even fucking human."

"Right." Bryant shrugs, then motions to a man with hideous burns all over him. "Don, take this fucker back to the stockade and make him squeal like a stuck mule until he spills."

The burned man grins. "Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this. Been wanting to get my skinnin' knife a good work out." he pats a collection of scalps hanging off his belt. "Reckon your top'll fit right in." He grabs Cater, who thrashes and kicks until the burned man punches him in the gut. He picks Carter up and looks at the bounty hunters. "You want in on this? Give him a good stab or two?"

Bryant looks at Maddox. "I'll have your money ready by morning. Come on by the bank and pick it up. Pleasure doin' business with ya. Say...how's your hunt for Huang Li's whore goin'?"

The men around chuckle and snicker.

Maddox frowns. "Maybe let me ask some things first...there'll be lies to get through, either way, see you, and I think Wilder here would appreciate a go at all that..." he looks at Wilder, distaste for 'frontier justice' written in his eyes and the set of his jaw. "...did you say that fellow with the skin condition was kin to you as well?"

James eyes narrow as Maddox mentions Michael, "Yeah ... my brother."

Maddox looks back with a kind of lopsided squint, highly bemused by that glare. "Well if you don't like him you needn't invite him to come, see you."

The gunslinger shook his head, with Carter in holding his dual was obviously off and the evil man would be given justice. "I'm done here Maddox ... good luck with whatever the hell you're doing here."

Maddox doesn't stop frowning confusedly at the sudden disinterest in a decades-long quest for vengeance, but seems to think a little better of Wilder for not joining in the "colourful" plans for the wounded Darius Carter.

"Alright, I'll leave your cut at your lodgings, shall I? Where is that? Lonefeather, what would you be about at this moment here?" Once he knows where to distribute the reward, Maddox seems quite willing to leave Wilder to his own devices, standing in the rainy street.

James shakes his head "That's not the justice you were preaching about earlier Maddox. Man's shot up and all but dead. If you want him to stand trial, you won't let them do what they got planned."

Maddox pulls a hand over his face, nodding a little. "I know. But this is legal, see you, and I'll wire the States to get word out it was not some 'heroic' bloody duel like the ballads would have it or an annonymous barfight somewhere. 'Course," he addresses the hardcases, "-it is letting him off quite easy having him die, isn't it?"

"-and the whore seems to have got herself a red fellow from a bar and run up Bear Butte, stolen clothes and all," he belatedly answers Bryant, quite clearly slightly less than sober. "If you see a giant negro with neither hair nor hat ome down from Bear Butte don't mention it to him, he is convinced the girl is the Holy Champion or something of that like."

"He has some wicked Death Touch Kung Fu or similar to him, too, see you: I thought he was reaching over my shoulder and then it was like a heart attack he set on me, just for asking about the girl. Crazy as a sack of ferrets."

In reply to Maddox (msg # 103):

"We were actually staying at the Stockade ourselves." Lonefeather says. He looks at Bryant. "Unless that's changed?"

Bryant shrugs. "I don't see why it would. You folk have more than proved yourselves. Hell, I'd like you with us when we put paid to this asshole's friends in Spearfish."

Carter chuckles from the dirt. "We...ain't...friends. Just...movin' in the same...direction...for a spell. Hell...the bounty...you put on me...is more than double...what you're offerin' for Bold Bill."

"It's 'cause you're just so pretty." The burned man grins and fondles Carter's hair. "I especially like this mane o' yours." He again pats his scalp collection.

"Get away from me!" Carter growls and thrashes, at which point the burned man kicks him in the stomach again and laughs.

((OOC: James? Any reaction? If not, I'll just move on from here.))

OOC: JUST got back to the states - currently playing catch up ...

---

"Legal don't make it justice." the gunslinger half growls at Maddox before covering the distance between himself, Carter and mr BBQ then James scooped up Carter, "Pretty sure, that scalpin' is still frowned upon..."

"You want Acting Tyrant Custer to set him loose for you to chase again, is it?" Maddox says, out of ideas. "He'll be bounty caught and paid for, those he hurt will know he's dead and the road agents out there will stop killing miners and any other folk they catch, and pissing off the Sioux. It's not great, see you, but more people live and I get paid with that."

"...frowned upon where?" Maddox wondered, brain finally catching up to James' last words.

"By people who aren't savages.

As for your ideas of justice... why don't we just string him up from the closest tree then? isn't he wanted alive or dead?!"

"Say, there's an idea!" Frank says with a nasty grin at Carter, who spits at him.

"Do it, then, if you're gonna." He growls. "I'm tried of all this waitin'."

The burned man shrugs. "So I'm a savage, am I?" He then does a strangle little circle dance, raising one hand behind his head and splaying out his fingers like a poor imitation of warrior feathers, the other hand passing in front of his mouth as he makes a strange warbling trill. "WOOWOOWOOWOOWOOWOOWOOO!" It looks like a hideous mockery of an Indian war dance, which it probably was. Then he straightens up and laughs at his own sick antics.

Frank rolls his eyes and looks at James. "You might have noticed that we ain't got a marshal no more, and some purple-skinned idiots burned down the jail. So we might as well just hang him now, and leave his carcass on Pole Man road as a warnin' to his buddies." He looks at Carter. "It's how we dealt with his kind of scum before Deadwood started pretendin' it was civilized. Unless you wanna haul his ass all the way the Laramie or Bismark, or hand him over to Custer and let him hang 'im, I ain't seein' the problem here."

Maddox looks from Don's impression of the locals, as a citizen of the Union, to Wilder, a citizen of a Confederacy that allowed bounties to be paid on natives by the skin. "If you're going to take him to Europe, good luck to you, but how exactly would you be planning on that? Hang around here, Custer gets him, either lets him go or can't resist making a circus of a trial himself, keeping Carter here around until his pals hit the other side of town to spring him 'case he brings the army on them - a great reason for them all to rush into Sioux territory and start a bloody war with those aboriginals who've been piling guns for months, that would be. Fine reason for them on the warpath to swoop in behind and hit Deadwood, too. How many people do you want to die?"

He shakes his head, too tired and not sober enough to deal with this. "We're not just stringing him up, see you - not that we have a Marshal at the moment, you might have noticed - we're getting information to make the hills safe, which will also leave me enough to eat for a while without going savage my own self, and I'm taking all burden of paperwork to make sure it is traceable, legal, and raises no legends. You talk to me, see you, they'll have no reason to keep you waiting to meet your master," he adds to Carter.

"How is it that scalping this bastard gets up your nose so much, but you were happy to let him run off to rape and murder as he liked, and shoot other people into the bargain? I'm not happy that I haven't got the time or funds to drag him to Laramie, see you, but what exactly do you want and where are you going?" Maddox throws Lonefeather a helpless look, absoloutely out of ideas.


[[incidentally, so am I. Maddox doesn't want to do things this way, but doesn't see a workable alternative right now/is too tired to fight Carter off the DMA and lose face with people he might need sweet to keep the peace later. Even a white hat doesn't stay entirely clean in Deadwood.]]

"I want Carter dead ... not that hard to fathom is it? Doesn't mean I want him skinned like an animal." James looked from the bounty hunter back to Carter then to his friend. "After that guess I'll go home, maybe raise horses or something mundane like that."

OOC: At this point I feel that James' arch is done, and he won't stay in Deadwood aside from making sure to see Carter die. After that he would leave, with his brother if he could.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:32, Mon 01 May 2017.

"So this way he'll be dead, legally with the bounty, and less people will die. If you want these gentlemen not to play with him you should be taking it up with them, not...whatever it is you're doing." Maddox clearly has no idea what James is doing.


[[Why the sudden aversion to scalping and trying to run off with the bounty and all chance of smoothly saving the outliers from bandits( and Maddox making his rent this month), though?

He has zero interest in not dying in a war/making sure the world still exists to retire to/staying in the game? Not that I'm insisting you stay if you as a player want out, but narratively, the fallout from the completion of a Quest is usually the start of the most interesting character development.]]

OOC:
James hasn't seen scalping in other areas of this game - if he did then I as a player missed it and would've reacted similar to how he just did. He watched his family get murdered horribly in front of him and was recently strung up by natives, so yeah don't see him as a fan of scalping.

He's also not very interested in the bounty on Carter, sure it be nice but that's not important to him. He would rather have had the duel and let Maddox or Longfeather take the reward, regardless he still doesn't want Carter tortured even though Carter is a horrible man that doesn't mean James wants Carter treated like he treated others.

The "fallout" of James' quest is the question of what does he do next. He's spent the majority of his life chasing Carter and now that is over. Does he keep hunting bad guys or hangup his pistol... either or hose choices don't really seem to be what will happen in Deadwood.  Part of that is my own fault, James didn't come into the game with GREAT ties to anyone in the party nor did they really develop.

Could I push and "make" him stay, sure but without a REASON he'd just robot in the background, shooting things though probably poorly as he's not as good a gunslinger as any wild card NPC available to the group.

"You're right," James spins on his heels, his pistol in hand and puts a single bullet into Carter's brain.

OOC: Quick draw then Called shot Head (-4 hit +4 damage)
14:30, Today: James Wilder rolled 6,-1 using d12-3,d6-3, rerolling max with rolls of 9,2.  Shooting (Called Shot Head -4, +1 TMW).
14:30, Today: James Wilder rolled 5 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 5.  +d6 blue chip.

14:30, Today: James Wilder rolled 13,5 using 2d6+1,d6+4, rerolling max with rolls of 2,(6+4)10,1.  Damage (AP1, +4 Head+Raise).

11 hit w/ raise for 18 damage

18 vs 7 is 2 wound + shaken... if it matters.

This message was last edited by the player at 21:43, Mon 01 May 2017.

The gunshot shocks just about everyone. Carter most of all...he burbles something and claws the air before sinking to the ground, eyes wide open as the wound in his skull bleeds.

"Damn." James Lonefeather mutters.

Frank Bryant scowls. "Well, I guess that settles that." He looks at Wilder. "Damn shame we won't get anything from him now, but he had it comin', so I guess I can't fault you none."

((OOC: This probably counts as having The Drop, for an additional +4 damage. Also, his current Toughness is actually 5, from the draining he took earlier. All in all, that means he actually suffers 4 wounds from this.

He's out of Chips, so he goes straight to Incapacitated. he fails his Incapacitation roll, but doesn't get low enough to auto-die, so he suffers a permanent Injury (Brain Damage) and is Bleeding Out. If someone wants to use the Healing skill on him to save hinm, they can try, though I doubt most of these folks here give much of a damn.

So...now what? If you don't see much here for Wilder, do you want to roll up a new character?))

Maddox flushes at the murder and gives James a look that seems to have more shadows about it than it should, fist clenching, but then just turns and walks away.


[[Depriving Maddox of the information Carter had (and means to get food without running with the DMA or doing other unsavoury work) just means more people die...like he said, it was the DMA wanted to torture Carter, not him. James could've talked them out of it if he wanted.

James' brother has a connection to Coot, which is to the plot and thus the posse, plus James knows von Steinhof. [shrug] The option's there if you wanted it, was all.]]

James doesn't react to anything around him, rather he watches Carter drop then walks over to Carter's bleeding form and empties the remaining five shots of his father's gun into the villain. "That's for my sister, my mother, and my father ... you sick fuck."

He looks to Bryant, "Make sure that Maddox and Lonefeather get the bounty."

OOC: Sure - James's actions are TOTALLY horrible for Maddox but again this is quite literally someone James has been chasing since he was 11 or 12... so yeah. James is not a white hat.

Stray - I think James getting a hook from his brother is fine.