With dusk, the gray pines seem to draw in, pulling close to one another, blocking out the pale glow of the moon and stars. At the overhang, where the posse has built their camp, the resulting darkness takes on an impenetrable quality. Beyond the amber glow of the campfire, all becomes uncertain, the details of the nearby trees, and anything that might linger among them, lost. A few insects buzz outside the boundary of the firelight, but the mountain is quiet otherwise, giving only an occasional, rattling whisper when the wind passes among the forest’s dry branches.

The first watch passes without incident. If Kearney finds Dr. Wayland strange, she gives no sign, her interest in his inventions and theories clearly genuine. She listens more than she speaks, but she does talk about some of her career as a law dog, and about some the wonders she witnessed during her last trip to New York. ”All these new discoveries...they’re sure changing up the world. Not sure I’ll recognize a lot of it ten years from now.”

The second watch is mostly still as well, though an occasional close rustling among the nearby trees draw both Castillo and Bauer’s attention. Bauer asks several questions about Castillo’s service as a scout with the Army, then goes on to confess that she’s given serious thought to leaving Lincoln soon. ”Might try my hand as a bounty hunter. Or a stage guard. Somethin’ that would let me wander a bit. I’d just like to get a taste of what some of the rest of the country is like.”

Kansas Kate snaps awake several minutes before she is to take her shift. Cooper, long accustomed to the discipline of the range, awakens only a few minutes later. The wind picks up as the pair join Castillo and Bauer at the fire, cracks sounding from the branches of the nearby trees, the flame of the campfire wavering uncertainly. The gust abates after a moment, leaving a fresh chill lingering in the space beneath the stone overhang.

OOC: Everyone who’s awake, kindly provide me a Notice roll.

13:52, Today: Kansas Kate rolled 2,5 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 2,5.  Notice.

Not a derp roll!

Kansas Kate was never really pleasant per se.  Oh, she was certainly more fun when she was drunk.  But normally it was because she was nasty, dangerous and nihilistic.

At the moment, it was because she was coiled like a cat ready to pounce.  Nervous was not quite the right word, for she was more impatient than anxious.

She checked the scattergun and closed its action.  She'd lifted it intending to use it to disguise her murders, but it might presently serve another purpose.  Generally, she didn't favor shotguns.  A handgun was always with you, a rifle had much greater distance and held more ammunition before you had to start reloading.

But a shotgun was like that spider.  It had its place.  In a pinch, up close, it was the deadliest of implements.

Jacinta nodded to the others as they joined them at the fire.  Her rifle lay across her lap as she cleaned the exterior with an oiled cloth.  She'd positioned herself perpendicular to the fire so that one side of her face still lay in darkness.  As the wind picked up, she lifted her eyes to the trees beyond.


Notice: 4 (+2 if avoiding surprise)

16:09, Today: Jacinta Castillo rolled 4,4 using d8+2,d6+2, rerolling max with rolls of 2,2.  Notice.

Albert took a deep breath and yawned as he awoke, working his jaw briefly while consciousness returned. The hat he'd tipped over his eyes was returned to its rightful place atop his head, and the first place Albert looked was toward Brandy. Satisfied with where his faithful horse was resting, he next checked for his gun and gunbelt. He took the latter and strapped it about his waist, making sure that his etching tools were in the case attached to the belt. That Jacinta was on the prior watch would be rather efficient.

Albert nodded at the two that had been on watch. "Deputy. Jay-Lo. Let me know if y'all want me ta make some more of them bullets for ya. Goes for ya too, Double-Kay."

As the gust blew straight through Albert, he suppressed the urge to shudder.

OOC: Whatever is going on out there is a mystery to Albert

17:55, Today: Albert Cooper rolled 1,2 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,2.  Notice.

”Mighty handy talent you with those bullets, Mr. Cooper,” Bauer observes as the wind picks up. The deputy shivers, drawing her poncho tighter around her shoulders.

Kansas Kate was about to say something in response to the ongoing ammunition fabrication discussion, but her eyes narrowed.

"What'n th' fresh hell is that?"  She raised the shotgun.  "Con sarn it, ah bet that there's bait.  Well, might's well take it.  Keep yer eyes open."

She walked carefully toward the strange object she'd spotted, eyes wide open, weapon ready.

Moving cautiously toward the edge of the campsite, primed to respond to the first hint of danger, Kansas Kate reaches the object without any hint of interference. Stooping down the outlaw picks it up, her eyes, now adjusted to the gloom, able to identify it before she collects it.

It is a wide brimmed brown fedora. The crown of the hat has a long tear in it and on the left side, the brim is ragged and mostly gone. Blood is smeared over the surface of the fabric.

Kansas Kate recognizes it immediately. It is the hat that was worn by Tom O’Folliard.

Looking up, neither the outlaw nor her companions see anything moving toward the camp. The only motion any can see are the gray branches of the pines swaying in the icy wind.

"Sunuvabitch!"  She swore, though only that was the clear swear she articulated.  Angrily, she scooped up the hat and stomped back to the others and threw the hat down on the ground.

"GAWDAMMIT!  Ah'ma SKIN these sons'o'bitches'n use their gonads fer a coin purse!"

She was angry.

Jacinta was a bit confused, not recognizing the hat nor the reason why Kate was so angry.  She pointed at the offending object.  "Belong to someone you know?"  Picking it up, she inspected it, coming to the quick conclusion that whoever wore it was either badly injured or, more likely, very dead.

The outlaw, fists clenched, choked out through her teeth with a rasping hiss.  "This is O'Folliard's damn hat!"  She stomped the dirt a few more times, then seemed to calm somewhat.

"Ah'd... ah'd say get to trackin'... but'n if he ain't already dead, ah'll be a two headed king snake."

OOC: As a side note to those not on watch, unless you happen to have the Heavy Sleeper hindrance, there’s a good chance that Kansas Kate’s reaction to her discovery stirred you from sleep. Whether you remain awake or not is entirely up to you. After all, the outlaw gets mad a lot. So, her being pissed off may not, in itself, cause you alarm.

Kate’s outburst brings Tamsin to a half awake state, and she shifts just enough to be audible. ”Is someone dying or can I go back to sleep?”

The wind finds its strength again, ushering in another layer of cold to blanket those gathered beneath the overhang. The campfire falters at its arrival, shrinking at its touch, the shadows growing as it struggles to remain alight.

The wind does not come alone. Its icy reach carries hints of voices along with its travel: whispered pleas, hisses of anger, weeping, and furtive laughter; loud enough to be heard, but not strong enough to be clear. They are murmurs that wash past, scattering hints of sharp emotion before bearing their secrets off into the dark.

As the last of the voices fades to a trembling breath, a lone figure steps from the shadow to the firelight, a cloak hanging from his broad shoulders, a wide brimmed hat drawn low over his eyes. In his gloved hands, he holds only a pipe, which he methodically packs with tobacco.

“I told O’Folliard, and all the rest of those boys, to put Lincoln behind them. To ride east into Texas, or west for California. To forget this valley.”

Lawrence Murphy looks pointedly at Albert Cooper. ”Told Henry Cooper the same. He’s a fine man. Good rancher. Could make a life for his family anywhere he chose.” He shakes his head. “He wouldn’t have any of it.”

He lights his pipe, the flare of the match providing a glimpse of eyes that are black and lifeless. ”Now here I am, trying to talk sense into each of you. I doubt you’ll listen. But you need to turn back. Find a life elsewhere. Put this business behind you.”

“This mountain, it doesn’t care what you’re made of. What you’ve seen, how brave you are. It’ll swallow you up just the same. Every last one of you.”

Kansas Kate's shouting and yelling had woken him up, and he approached where the others were just in time for Murphy to make his speech to them.

"Well, I appreciate you takin' the time outta yer busy schedule, Mr. Murphy. You seem mighty confident of whatever is goin' on with this mountain - and about our ability to rise to that challenge. Believe it or not, I've had my doubts about this very misadventure myself. Could you perhaps enlighten us as to what happened to Mr. O'Folliard, his whereabouts to the best of your knowledge, and about what awaits us at the culmination of our journey?

You see, I can handle just about any sonuvabitch. You should see your lieutenant. Dolan ain't lookin' so pretty right about now, and neither are the rest of the bootlickers you sent to Blazer's Mill. That was all before I talked to Roberts over here, though. Now...I think I'm getting outta my depth as a lawman.

I'm afraid I don't know enough about Owl Witches and the like to dissuade these good people from whatever it is they intend, so if you could let us know about what it is we're up against it would surely help me make my case that we're better off just leaving this situation altogether."

---

OOC:

I'd like to play 9H - Spill the Beans:

The subject of your questioning tells you everything you want to know, whether by friendly persuasion, intimidation, or force. The Marshal gets a draw from the fate pot.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Wed 22 Jan 2020.

Oh she had words for Murphy, such words.  But... now was not the time.  And honestly, words weren't her strong suit, she was about action, though some might say she did have a way with language (specifically, torturing it).

Kansas Kate was a prideful creature, but also a sinister one, and saw an opening the Ranger had just created she might be able to exploit.  This time, her sinister nature defeated her rage.

"Coop.  How many o' them ya got?"  Kansas Kate growl-whispered in a low voice.  Her scattergun was at the ready, drawing a bead on Murphy's head.  Whatever was wrong with him, he wouldn't be much good with his eyes blinded by lead pellets.

But she didn't kick off the festivities.  Not yet.

And here's where I'm glad KK doesn't have the Vengeful Hindrance.

Albert frowned when Murphy talked about his uncle and shook his head. "Course he wouldn't. Folk what made their homes through hard work deserve ta reap the fruits o' their labor. Not just run off fer no good reason."

The cowboy looked over at Bryan when the ranger asked his questions. Albert leaned an ear closer to Kate as she spoke quietly. He momentarily had a slightly confused look and he asked for clarification as quietly as Kate's query had been stated. "How many o'what?"

Wayland struggled to wake up.  There was more than enough noise and reason to wake up, of course.  But, his dreams often shook him.  Rest was rarely restful for the scientist.  For him, there was always talking....whispering...voices....  always....always....

He jerked very suddenly awake from his place by the fire.  His eyes wild and suspicious, "No no no no...."  He scrambled to his feet as the conversation went on, muttering half a conversation.  He pulled his hat roughly back on his head and grabbed up his lightning gun as though he meant very serious business.  Of course, as he hadn't quite caught up to the goings on at the fire yet, one might wonder just what his business might be...

Kate grumbled back.  "Yer special loads.  Think'n we's 'bout ta need 'em somethin' pow'r'ful."

Albert nodded slightly. "Ah, them. Was just about ta make some more as J-Lo and I used what we had. Ya want me ta scratch one up fer ya?"

No answer was never a good answer. Tamsin gets up from where she was sleeping, making sure to grab her gun belt and everything that went with it, drawn to whatever is happening. Now she has to find out what’s going on, because obviously someone isn’t dying, but... someone is probably dead, from the looks of the hat she spies on the ground.

”Of course, Ranger. I’d be glad to answer all of your questions. If a discussion is genuinely what you want. I came here in the hope that you and your companions were the sort who might see reason,” Murphy replies.

”But I sense that some of your fellow riders are more interested in a fight. If that’s the case, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” As he speaks, the sharp sounds of cracking wood interrupt the stillness as the trees surrounding the camp lean inward, their branches stretching like skeletal limbs, reaching for those gathered around the fire. Roots, black with decay, emerge from the earth like the bloated limbs of the forgotten dead, snaking toward the travelers. The campfire shrinks, with only a few licks of flame providing a weak amber glow. It seems suddenly as though the posse is standing within a small space underground, surrounded by impenetrable darkness.

From every quadrant of the wood, even from the darkness above, there are the echoes of ghostly cackling.

”I’m not one to waste time. Which do you prefer?”

And just like that, Kansas Kate understood (or thought she had?) and lowered the shotgun.

"Horseshit."  She sounded disgusted.  "Gawd. damn. horse. shit."

She seemed... disappointed.  "Go 'head 'n jawjack.  Just don't do nuthin' none of ya an' don't go nowhere.  Go slack as a hemp rope soaked in an oil barrel.  Good time ta go take a piss if'n ya want."

She doubted anyone would understand or gave a damn, but she was already done with this.  She also might be horribly wrong.

Jacinta's rifle was still laying across her knees, but she had yet to take aim at anything.  If what was said about Murphy was true, then regular bullets weren't going to stop him.  So she kept her seat and simply leaned forward to listen, a slight frown playing at her lips.  Her eyes flitted to the surrounding trees and darkness, both of which caused her to make the sign of the cross.

"You know, I'm a sorta talk first kinda guy. I mean, I'll fight if I have to, but I mean it's sometimes easier to see if talkin' will work. I tried to hash things out with Jim McDaniels, but he was only really interested in violence, so we had to take care of business there. I would've preferred to lock him up, I suppose, but apparently demon folk don't take kindly to the notion of incarceration. That's neither here nor there, though."

He hoped that if that even if who he had come to think of as Murphy wouldn't tell him what he wanted, well, at least Coop could etch out a few more of his bullets.

"Though I figure you might see things differently, bein' a business type fella as you are. You see, after we handled Demon McDaniels and Dolan and Evans and all the other sorry sons of bitches you got workin' for you, the general thinkin' was that whatever was up here wouldn't be so bad - maybe just some more demons and assholes. I was outvoted, so to speak, but I thought since you seem to know more about this, you could succeed where I didn't. Probably we're gonna need to hear somethin' more than ominous bullshit about us gettin' swallowed up and all that."

OOC:

Persuasion: 4 (6 in the dubious case he respects Rangers)

09:50, Today: Bryan Lee rolled 3,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max.  Persuasion.
+2 from Edges
-1 from Hindrances

Dr. Wayland continued to look around wild eyed for something for a few moments more till some bit of the "conversation" caught his ear.  It wormed through his maddened confusion and he went from panic to studiously calm.  A bit too suddenly.  As the threes and darkness began to stretch and close around the camp, the scientist gave it all a narrow, measured glance, muttering, "Not the pickle one then...  Some new nightma-ah...  No...  Might be real...  Its hard to tell...  So hard to tell...  You are no help..."  At Kate's suggestion of passivity, Dr. Wayland leaned his lightning gun against his shoulder and set his jaw, "Ah.  Awake then.  Damn."

The fire returns to life. With groans and creaks, the surrounding trees stand straight again, their blackened roots retreating underground. The darkness recedes, the camp returning to the ordinary appearance it had mere moments ago.

Even Murphy’s countenance seems to shift, going from an imposing figure of shadow to that of a stately man of advanced years, his hair silver, his face deeply lined. The bowl of his pipe glows as he inhales. He shakes his head as he releases a stream of gray smoke. ”Shame about Dolan. He was a man of many talents. Perhaps if his ambitions had been directed elsewhere, he would have found great success. And would still be among the living.”

“To your first question, Ranger, Tom O’Folliard is dead. Not much remains of him to bury, I fear. I had a direct hand on his demise. I won’t deny it. Another sin I have to take ownership of. He was...a convenient way for me to satiate my curse. What I didn’t take of him, the wolves did.”

He smiles mirthlessly at Lee and taps his temple. ”Not the wolves that haunt your imagination, Ranger. The real ones that have defied the grave for centuries here in these mountains.”

Stepping closer to the campfire, he glances over at Andrew Roberts and Shabbakasha, both of whom have awakened. Staring down at the blaze, he says, ”You and your posse seem to have a calming influence on the Regulators. Had O’Folliard reached them, I’m certain he would have stirred them up. Given Bonney even more reasons to seek vengeance. Billy and those boys would have ended up making the climb with you. But...they’re not strong. They’re impulsive and steered by emotion. Up there...she would’ve turned every one of them into monsters. Like me, they wouldn’t have the fortitude to refuse her.”

He straightens, gazing out at the surrounding forest. ”After the war, my obsession was with ownership. Being able to sit on my porch and know that all the land I could see was mine. Going to California, digging deep into the hills so I could call all the gold and ghost rock that was hiding in the earth my own. To be made great by what I had claimed.”

“You know, the Mescalero, and as far as I know, the Comanche, don’t have words in their language that express the idea of land ownership. It’s an unknown concept to them. And rightly so. It’s a foolish notion. That we could possess the earth. Bend it to our will. It’s home to things that make our lives seem laughably small. That dwarf us with their power.”

He exhales another haze of tobacco smoke. ”Did you, or any of your friends serve in the war, Ranger? Perhaps fight on the side of one of the railroads?”

"This pigeon-livered flapdoodle maws on worse'n a fishwife.  There's less hot air over a bonfire."  Kansas Kate observed idly with a chuckle, sitting down like there was nothing to be concerned about.

"They're still here? We killed a bunch of 'em that attacked our stage coach...Damn wolves..." He muttered under his breath before shaking himself out of it and back to the present.

"I didn't fight in the war, so to speak. The big one or the rail ones, though I did do some work on behalf of Dixie Rails before I took to lawin'. I'd say it was less of a war and more just thumpin' saboteurs and knockin' heads."

At the mention of Tom O’Folliard’s death, Tamsin could have sworn her heart had stopped. For a moment, it felt like nothing around her was real; the feeling passes as quickly as it had come, replaced by a wave of anger that made her jaw clench.

She sat down stiffly, staring into the fire as she listens.

”I imagine that even being close to the Rail Wars was sufficient to give you a sense of how such conflicts effect innocents that find themselves close to them,” Murphy says.

”Consider the War Between the States. The Jayhawkers and Border Ruffians in Kansas and Missouri. William Tecumseh Sherman laying waste to Georgia. John Morgan raiding through Kentucky. Homes razed. Hundreds who never lifted a weapon killed. It is the same throughout history. Caesar in Gaul. Alexander in Persia. The Crusades. More innocents slain than soldiers.”

He lifts his right hand in a helpless gesture. ”The Rio Bonito Valley is the same, just far older. The power that lays claim to it predates man. It had slumbered for centuries I believe, awakened by the shadows that first crossed the frontier during the war.” He smiles. ”Since Europeans first arrived on these shores, we have believed that we have the right to claim any land that we find, regardless of who, or what, might have called it home before us.”

“I don’t know what she’s called. I’ve since heard the legends from the Apache, the Pueblo, the Comanche and Kiowa. Many of them call her a witch, or the owl witch. Perhaps that’s how she’s chosen to show herself to them, knowing it was something they already fear. I’ve often thought that she was once human, maybe a medicine woman from a much earlier time, that somehow became something greater.”

“I’d heard about the power up in the Capitans. But, contrary to what you might have heard, I didn’t take that wagon train up there to find it. I’ll admit that I was arrogant enough to believe that if the stories were true, perhaps it was something that I could harness for my own use, to use to make my own ambitions a reality. But if it wasn’t, I was ready to find gold in California.”

He exhales a plume of smoke. ”She killed almost everyone. Made it clear who the mountain, and the valley below belongs to. She didn’t spare me outright. She waited until I had damned myself. Until I had transformed myself into a monster in my desperation to survive. Then she snared me.”

“I’ve helped her. Helped her swallow up those that have tried to claim what’s hers. And I’ve benefitted from doing so. But the promises I made to others...Dolan, McDaniels, Jesse Evans, Wrias Raines...I couldn’t give them what I claimed I could. I showed them just enough power to make them believers. But in the end, I’m just a servant. She’s the one who holds the cards.”

He points up the mountain’s slope. ”In about two days, she’ll have gathered all the strength she needs. And anyone who hasn’t left Lincoln will be consumed. Nothing but a ghost town left behind. Like Angus. All their anguish will satiate her. Their deaths will drive others who might try to lay claim to the valley away...for a time. That’s what murdering John Tunstall was all about. There’s nothing like threatening someone’s home, what they’ve worked for for years, to make them dig in. Refuse to leave. So they would be waiting for her to claim.”

He taps the ashes of his pipe into the fire. ”What you’ve been told isn’t wrong. If you can get up there, find her heart, tear it out of the earth, it’ll banish her. Put all of this to a stop. But you won’t. She’ll scatter you to the wind, same as everyone else that’s made the climb. But you can turn around, put all of Lincoln behind you. Make for Texas, Arizona, Old Mexico. Anywhere you please. And you can be long gone when the worst of it comes to pass.”

Kansas Kate just smiled at Cooper, and then the Ranger, and made eye contact with anyone else who could see her.  "Yep that's just what we'll do ain't it Ranger?"

Dr. Wayland reached his free hand into a pocket to fish around for something.  He gave Kate a mild nod at her knowing look, but it was hard to tell if he was really thinking what she was thinking.  He did speak up, pitching it to join in the conversation with Murphy, "That is verah kind of you to offer us this way out, sah.  Ah do wondah just what we have done to desahve such magnanimity?  Ah mean, your plan seems to be to keep folk heah to be consumed... Yet you would allow such tasty morsels to scampah away?"  His hand found what he sought, withdrawing a small thin package, "Ah find many foods disagree with me as well.  Thus Ah also do my best to avoid them when possible.  Ah also find relief in pepsin chewing gum when it is unavoidable.  Good for the digestion.  Care to try?"  The scientist offered out the pack of pepsin gum sticks to Mr. Murphy after plucking one out for himself.

Jacinta stood slowly, holding her rifle casually in her arms across her body.  For the first time since Murphy's arrival, she spoke.  "I know what it is to be ensnared, to be left with no choices, to be used by those of greater power.  You cling to every little thing that you can control, because it is all you can do, but your life is not your own.  It can be taken from you so easily."

"So, my question to you is this -- do you want to be free, gringo?  Do you want to be liberated from your enslavement?  Or are you still her servant and mean to help her swallow Lincoln whole?"

”While you’ve been a thorn in my side, you’ve shown great courage in the process, sir,” Murphy replies to Wayland, waving away the offer of gum, ”I’ve always admired daring, even when I was at my most barbaric, and impulsive. Bravery merits consideration.”

He listens to Castillo intently, seemingly considering her words carefully. However, when she finishes speaking, he shakes his head. “Before the witch bound me, my humanity was already lost,” he answers. As though to emphasize his response, he smiles, revealing teeth that are two uniform rows of tightly spaced fangs, like long, rounded daggers. ”If she falls, my ability to live as a civilized man is all I’ll lose. The illusion that I’m human. Even if I wanted to make the climb with you, you couldn’t trust me. Sooner or later, the hunger waiting inside would overtake me.”

He draws his coat around him. ”I’d caution you, though. I’m not the only monster in your midst. One of you is ruled by a dark spirit. A manitou, which could prove all too eager to do her bidding.”

“I came here to give you a choice. To let you decide the path you want to follow. And I have. When the dawn comes, you still have the opportunity to climb back down. To get out. No harm will come to you in leaving Lincoln. If you press on toward High Lonesome...then you’ll reap the consequences of that decision. It’s all in your hands now.”

Jacinta tipped her hat in acknowledgement and reclaimed her seat, resting her rifle across her knees once more.  "Then I guess we got some thinkin' to do before the sun comes up," she said simply.  Her dark gaze turned to the others, wondering if Murphy spoke the truth, but knowing so little of such matters that she couldn't begin to guess.

”From here, Lincoln is almost directly due south. From there, you can follow the stage road to Roswell. You can even take Murdock’s stage, if you prefer. No one will harass you. Not the sheriff’s office. Not the House. You’ll be free to leave.”

He points northeast. ”If not, High Lonesome’s about half a day’s ride that way.” He glances at Roberts. ”Can’t believe you’d ever consider going back.”

“Either way, we won’t see one another again.”

Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he steps out of the circle of firelight into the dark tangle of trees westward.

The outlaw chuckled bitterly.

That wasn't Murphy.  Maybe it was in a technical sense, but not really according to her anyway.

And he, it?, was wrong.  They would meet again.

Kansas Kate would be the last thing he ever saw.

Under control of a Manitou her ass.  No spook in Perdition or Parts Unknown was half as hateful as she.

09:08, Today: Jacinta Castillo drew the single card: 3C using the Deadlands system.  Dooooom.

Bryan listened quietly, and waited for anyone else to say their piece or for Murphy to be well out of earshot before he would speak again.

OOC:

If we're supposed to post it here:

09:57, Today: Bryan Lee drew the single card: AH using the Deadlands system.  Card Draw.

08:30, Today: Tamsin River drew the single card: KD using the Deadlands system.

Observing the waiting period, Kansas Kate finally commented.

"Buncha god damn bullshit.  As far as okie dokes go that there were a piss poor 'un."  She appended.  "O'Folliard bein' dead, good chance that part's true though."

18:12, Today: Kansas Kate drew the single card: JS using the Deadlands system.

"The only reason he'd come up here and give us a chance to back out is that they think that we've got a shot at takin' this thing down. As far as monsters and all that, I think he was just trying to find a way to cause division in the ranks."

He rubbed at his nose and gave a sniff. "Goddamn pollen," he muttered under his breath.

"It's more'n that lawdog.  Why ya think ah let him yammer on 'stead of makin' his noggin' pop like a watermelon with this here scattergun?"  She answered her own question.  "He had no power here 'cept that what we gave 'im.  In fact, mebbe that weren't e'en Murphy.  Mebbe that were some scairt critter ah tryin' ta fend fer itself, what knows we's a comin'.  Usin' what's in our minds 'gainst us."

PM

Albert frowned as Murphy departed, listening to the chatter from his friends as he considered what had been said. It didn't really seem to change all that much in Albert's mind. He did take his hat off and scratch the top of his head for a moment before replacing the fedora.

The cowboy shrugged. "Any of that change any o' yer thinkin?" The cowboy looked around at the posse to see if anyone was inclined to answer.

OOC: While he considered the others, Albert drew what could only be described as a rather poor card.

Nothing good ever came from drawing a four of clubs. Nothing.

23:53, Today: Albert Cooper drew the single card: 4C using a deck of 54 cards.  Pick a card. Aaaaaany card.

“Well, I went from should do to need to do if that counts,” Tamsin says,  “If that’s what you mean.” Her voice was tense, angry.

The scientist put the offered pack of gum pack into his pocket; un-bothered by the Murphy-thing's impolite non-refusal.  The words that were offered were more interesting...and bothersome.  His own stick of gum was being quietly chewed as he turned back to the others, "No...  It does not altah my thinking...  Ah decided to follow you all up into this desolate place to whatevah horrible, dark end awaits me...  His threats were hardly surprising news."

22:20, Today: Dr. Ezekiel Q. Wayland drew the single card: 9C using the Deadlands system.  Pick Me!  Pick Me!

”All that managed to accomplish for me was to make me mad as hell,” Bauer says. She spits on the ground. ”O’Folliard damn well didn’t deserve that.”

”I’m still makin’ the climb. But if I come back down again, I’m huntin’ Murphy down. Human or not,” Kearney adds quietly.

”Murphy’s heart is corrupt. Conflicted,” Roving Wolf says, ”But the danger he speaks of is real. The mountain will seek to consume us. But each of us, we knew this. We made the journey knowing what we would face.”

“Those that can should rest. We will need all the strength we can find for tomorrow.”

OOC: I’ll leave this open for another day, in case there’s any further discussion that needs to take place. Then I’ll move things forward to sunrise.

"When we come back down again, Miss Kearney, I'll help you track him down," he said. It was a just mission, and it would be a lot easier this side of the border with a Ranger in tow.

"Ya'll can hunt 'em down, but ah'm killin' th' sunuvabitch."  Kansas Kate was surprisingly neutral in her tone, like she was reminding them a horse needed four shoes.

Albert nodded at the responses to his question. Everyone seemed to be determined to take a shot at what seemed to be the root of evil in the area. "Glad ta hear y'all ain't deterred." He looked about. "Those that ain't gotten a full night oughta try ta get some sleep. Double Kay and I can keep lookout."

Albert didn't feel the need to discuss what he'd be doing on the other side of the climb toward this confrontation. He had a suspicion that things might be different enough that it was hard to say what he would or would not do once all the dust had settled.