# Bad Moon over California



## Bobitron (Feb 12, 2005)

October 1877, California

*Dakota Turnbow*

_After long-term employment with a cattle baron out in Nebraska, you heard of an open call for linemen out in the mild climate of California. On the trail, a rider wearing the uniform of the US Cavalry, riding hard from the east, catches you. Pulling his horse up beside you, he catches his breath, and says “Dakota Turnbow? Thank God I found you. Marshal Colburn requests your help. I’m to escort you back to San Francisco, if yer of a mind to accept.” He pulls a letter from a worn saddlebag. Reading the letter, you make your decision, nodding to the soldier. “Times a’ wastin.”_

*Jeb Williams*

_The fur trade has slowed down in the Sierras, what with all the expansion. More and more often, you’ve been forced to travel deeper and higher into the wilderness to set your traps. Headed down into the small town of Forest Hill to trade your small collection of furs, you are met by another trapper. “I was hopin’ I’d pass ya on the way out.” he says. “I told that post rider he’d never find you hisself.” He holds a letter that bears the name of Marshal Dusty Colburn, a well-educated lawman you have heard about. Looks like he could use an experienced guide and woodsman like yourself. Selling what goods you can, you turn south towards San Francisco, where the Marshal awaits._

*Jean D'Artois*

_You sit heels up at your private table at the Red Dog saloon in San Francisco. This has been the longest you’ve stayed put in quite a while. Maybe time to move on, you muse. Slim pickins’ round here now that the locals know I can beat ‘em however they want to play without breaking a sweat. Letting out a deep sigh, you are just about ready to go settle up with the bar when you hear the clink of spurs behind you. “Mr. D’Artoris?” a youthful voice asks, mangling the pronunciation of your name in a manner that was almost criminal. You turn to meet the man, an excuse for whatever comes up already on your lips. You recognize a young deputy who has been hanging around the saloon lately. He extends his hand, holding an unmarked envelope. Handing you the paper, he tips his hat and walks from the saloon. You had heard of Marshal Colburn; he was new to the area, but rumor was he was tossing around a bunch of money trying to find some people. Looks like you might be one of ‘em._

*Michael Sun-Hand-High*

_After a long week riding the borders of the Chumash lands, you head back to town to pick up some provisions. Once you arrive, you find a message waiting you to check in with the liaison assigned to the tribe by the US Army. Approaching the man’s desk, your light steps do nothing to announce your presence, and the officer looks up in shock. “Ha, you snuck up on me there, Michael.” He takes out a kerchief and wipes the beading sweat from his forehead. “Look, I’ve talked to the chief, and he’s with me on this. There’s a Marshal up in San Francisco that needs your help. Asked for you specifically. I guess you’re getting a reputation. Saddle up, son.” He hands you a letter with a smile._

*Riley McClean*

_A couple months riding shotgun for a startup stage company got you nowhere. Collecting your pay after each week, the stingy boss found reason to withhold enough that some weeks you barely had enough to feed your horse. Leaving the San Francisco office after a particularly bad week, you kick the dusty road in frustration. A uniformed deliveryman approaches you carefully, almost timid. “M-m-Mr. McClean?”, he stammers. Relieved at your affirmative answer, he smiles and breathes a sigh of relief. “Fine, fine.  I have a post for you, sir. Straight from the hands of a US Marshal!” He gives a nervous smile, then backs away. Reading over the letter, a smile comes to your face. Hell, this is more money than you could make in a year riding on coaches. Things are finally looking up…_

The letter is posted below.

Rogue's Gallery Thread: http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?p=2029735#post2029735

OOC Thread: http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?p=1994291#post1994291


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## Bobitron (Feb 12, 2005)

Welcome to California, gents! Let me lay down a few ground rules about posting and general housekeeping before we get started.

1)Please keep track of your own Grit and ammo. I don’t want to be stuck doing housekeeping for six characters. At the top of each post, please put your character’s first name in bold, along with your Grit total (if you have taken any damage).

2)All spoken word should be in a color. Pick what you like, but please be consistent and make it something legible. Example: “Godammit, mule! Get back here!”  

3)Any internal thoughts should be in italics. Example: _I wonder how much gold that stage really is carrying?_

4)Please put all out-of-character comments in the color Dim Gray. Example: Shoot the lawman in the foot, I don’t want to kill him. 

5)How you roll dice is up to ya’ll. I don’t care to see your rolls, so just be honest about the numbers. Please display the basic math used to get each roll, though. Place the total for each roll in bold. Remember, die rolls are OOC info, so they should also be in Dim Gray. Example: Drake clocks the gambler with his meaty fist (attack roll 12+8= *20*, damage 5+3 for strength= *8*)

6)When in doubt, post. I don’t want anyone stuck waiting around for me or another player when they have something to say. Don’t worry too much about the sequence of things, just post if you want to.

7)Finally, I will make mistakes in this game. I’m new to D20 Modern and Sidewinder. Anything you all can do to help things along will be greatly appreciated.


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## Bobitron (Feb 12, 2005)

The 25th of October has come, and you have all gathered at the Rosewood Saloon in San Francisco. The mild California weather is a welcome change to those of you more accustomed to life in the region’s tougher climates. The warm sun is just starting to dip below the buildings on the street, casting long shadows away from the Pacific. The Rosewood is near the docks, and the smell of the sea is faint in the air. Work still continues all around, with merchants anxious to get in one last sale before the day’s end, a fishmonger’s cart dealing out fresh catches to housewives, and a group of stevedores working hard to balance a large load of cotton passing deeper into the city, stacked high on a wagon. The Rosewood Saloon looks like one of the nicer establishments in this neighborhood, and a young boy sweeps the entrance frantically to keep up with the dust rising from the road after the passing wagon. 

Entering the Rosewood, you find it mostly empty, with only a few old men sitting about playing cards and talking about old times. It’s obvious this is a successful saloon, but most of its business must come after the dock supervisors and merchants shut down for the night. At 4:00 pm, it seems to be the perfect place for a quiet meeting. Looking about, there doesn’t seem to be anyone who might be the lawman you were sent to meet. Another young boy carries glasses back and forth from what must be the kitchen, and a burly man stands behind the bar, polishing pint glasses with a well-used rag.


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## synecdoche (Feb 12, 2005)

*John D'Artois*

A slim, dapper gentleman enters and slowly takes stock of the situation the room.  He is wearing a suit in the latest style, black, and silver-rimmed spectacles.  After a moment, the man heads produces a silver flask from inside his coat, takes a swig, and replaces it.  He then heads to the most convenient gaming table and produces some money.

"Good day, gentlemen," he says in an accent that is unmistakably from Louisiana.  "My name is John D'Artois.  Could I trouble you for a hand or two?  It appears as though my meeting may occur a might later than expected."


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 12, 2005)

*Jebidiah "Bear Trap" Williams*

A large man enters the Rosewood and strolls up to the bar.  He is dressed in buckskins and has a big bore rifle thrown over his shoulder and looks completley out of place here.  This fact is hammered home when he spits a wad of tobacco into a spitoon in the corner, at least he attempts too, most of it goes on the floor and wall. He sits down at the bar leaning the rifle next to him. "Whiskey, bar man.  I'ma lookn' for a Marshal Colburn.  No where I can find him?"


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## Bobitron (Feb 12, 2005)

synecdoche said:
			
		

> *John D'Artois*
> 
> "Good day, gentlemen," he says in an accent that is unmistakably from Louisiana.  "My name is John D'Artois.  Could I trouble you for a hand or two?  It appears as though my meeting may occur a might later than expected."




"Well, slide up a chair, young man! Always happy to part a fool and his money. The game is Poker, and I'll happily deal you in next hand." The man speaking give a wide smile, showing perfect teeth. He is in his late 60's, and is dressed like a banker or barrister. "I'm Jake, and these fine gentlemen are David and Frank."  The other two display nowhere near the same confidence and glee that Jake does.

Jake mops up his hand quite nicely, and it's easy to see you have met a fellow professional. 

"What do you say, John? Let's start with... say... $15 a hand?"  He rapidly shuffles the cards. "I'll start the deal. Five card Draw, nothin' wild but the dealer." 

The ante is a purchase DC of 15, unless you want to try to talk him into changing it.


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## Bobitron (Feb 13, 2005)

hobbit_killer said:
			
		

> A large man enters the Rosewood and strolls up to the bar.  He is dressed in buckskins and has a big bore rifle thrown over his shoulder and looks completley out of place here.  This fact is hammered home when he spits a wad of tobacco into a spitoon in the corner, at least he attempts too, most of it goes on the floor and wall. He sits down at the bar leaning the rifle next to him. "Whiskey, bar man.  I'ma lookn' for a Marshal Colburn.  No where I can find him?"




The barkeep pours from a large bottle into a newly cleaned glass. "Colburn has a room rented out for y'all to meet in. Had us bring in a big table and such. He asks for you all to  make yerselves comfy, and he will arrive shortly."


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## Committed Hero (Feb 13, 2005)

*Michael Sun-Hand-High*

Michael observes the exterior of the saloon for a few minutes.  These may be a civilized city, but sometimes the simple presence of a brave among palefaces is enough to incite tensions.  As a knot of rough-looking patrons exit, he enters before the door closes shut.  He relaxes a bit, seeing quite a few strangers already in the bar.  He orders a glass of beer and waits in the wings for the marshall to arrive.


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## synecdoche (Feb 13, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> "Well, slide up a chair, young man! Always happy to part a fool and his money. The game is Poker, and I'll happily deal you in next hand." The man speaking give a wide smile, showing perfect teeth. He is in his late 60's, and is dressed like a banker or barrister. "I'm Jake, and these fine gentlemen are David and Frank."  The other two display nowhere near the same confidence and glee that Jake does.
> 
> Jake mops up his hand quite nicely, and it's easy to see you have met a fellow professional.
> 
> ...




John D'Artois smiles.  "Salut, gentlemen.  A pleasure.  Fifteen dollars?  Well that sounds just ideal."  He pulls up a seat and produces fifteen dollars.

(Wealth check = 7 + 14 = *21*)


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## Max (Feb 13, 2005)

Riley McClean carefully threads his horse through the San Francisco crowds, looking for the Rosewood Saloon.  "Should be around here somewhere," he mutters to himself.  After narrowly avoiding a freight wagon and waiting for a couple drunken sailors to weave their way in front of him, Riley finally spots the saloon.

Tying his horse at the railing, Riley looks relieved to leave the crowds behind.  "Damn big city traffic."  He unconsciously checks his guns to be sure they are in place and easy to hand before entering the saloon.  



			
				Bobitron said:
			
		

> The barkeep pours from a large bottle into a newly cleaned glass. "Colburn has a room rented out for y'all to meet in. Had us bring in a big table and such. He asks for you all to  make yerselves comfy, and he will arrive shortly."




Riley enters the saloon, just in time to hear the bartender tell a very large man just what he needed to know.  Finding an empty spot at the bar, Riley will order a beer and wait for the Marshal.  He will lean back against the bar, so he is facing the room and can keep an eye on the patrons as well as the door.


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## The Shaman (Feb 13, 2005)

After finding an acceptable livery stable to care for Lightning and dickering with the stable hand to pass the time, Dakota, Thunder, and Lucky head for the Rosewood. Passing the bustle of activity along the Embarcadero, Dakota takes in the sight of ships clustered in the harbor, the smell of the sea breeze, the sound of gulls squawking overhead. Despite the novelty of the scene to the plainsman, Dakota’s thoughts keep turning to the odd letter signed “Marshal Colburn.”

_Why me?_ Dakota wonders. _I’m no lawman._

At the Rosewood Dakota finds a hitching rail and tosses Thunder’s reins over it. The palomino wouldn’t move until Dakota returned of course, but it never hurt to keep up appearances. By long force of habit when visiting town, the wrangler dusts himself off with his hat brim as he peeks through the doors. _Nice place._ He looks down at Lucky waiting patiently beside him. _Too nice for you, I reckon._

“Lucky, stay,” he says, pointing at a spot on the wooden sidewalk next to the doors. The mutt wags his tail once, circles twice, and sits where Dakota points, as still as a statue. Dakota scratches him behind the ears. “Good boy. I’ll see if’n I can find you a bone.” The dog’s tail swishes back and forth in anticipation.

Dakota walks through the doors and gives the saloon and the patrons a once over. A card game in progress at a table. _A couple of dudes giving their money away and a couple of black-legs there to collect it._ A few other folks sitting by themselves, eyeing the door. One has his guns tied low, his hands clear of any obstructions. _Seen his type before. Dodge City. Abilene. Deadwood._ Another is unmistakably a brave, purposefully keeping to himself. _Not lookin’ for trouble. Smart Indian._ At the bar stands possibly the largest human being Dakota’s ever laid eyes on, dressed in buckskins and carrying a huge rifle. _I seen buffalo heifers that weigh less. Hope he’s a friendly drunk or’n this place won’t look so fancy for long._

Dakota wanders up to the bar and nods a greeting to the bartender. “Beer,” he says, tossing a nickel on the polished wood. _Well, Marshal Colburn, I’m here. Your move._


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## Bobitron (Feb 13, 2005)

synecdoche said:
			
		

> He pulls up a seat and produces fifteen dollars.




David and Frank both stand and leave as soon as you agree to the high stakes game. Jake turns to you with a smile. "Looks like it's just the two of us, then."  

He deals out five cards each after laying out his ante in the center of the table.

Gamble check.


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## synecdoche (Feb 13, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> He deals out five cards each after laying out his ante in the center of the table.
> 
> Gamble check.




"Too rich for their blood.  No matter,"  muses D'Artois, as he antes and picks up his cards, keeping a careful eye on his opponent  the whole time.

Gamble check: 17 + 16 = *33*


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 13, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Downing his whiskey and turning to face the room, Well, looks like I'm not the only one from outside these parts here tonight".  He then nods to the red man and the cowpoke next to. "Wooee, look at that dude flutter those cards!  Like a covey of quail my damn mule flushes with that gas of his!"


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## Bobitron (Feb 13, 2005)

synecdoche said:
			
		

> "Too rich for their blood.  No matter,"  muses D'Artois, as he antes and picks up his cards, keeping a careful eye on his opponent  the whole time.




Jake doles out 5 cards each with a huge grin. His confidence is a bit unsettling, but you've got a strong feelin' that he's a bit too puffed up from working over the locals for too long.

"How many cards fer you, young man?"

You have a strong hand to start from. Two kings and two threes is two pair in hand, and with a bit of luck, could turn to a full house with a lucky draw. Looking across at Jake, he still displays the same silly grin, but years of experience tell you he's not got the cards to back it up. Sometimes it's an intangible, but this time it's obvious to a pro like yourself. Jake's left hand has suddenly developed a hint of a shake. You ask for a single card, turning in a useless four. Jake takes three. Suddenly, the shake is gone.

"Well I'm sittin' pretty here, stranger. I'll raise you another $15." 

He just handed you the three of spades, cementing your full house. You meet his raise, secure in the strength of your hand. 

Jake whistles a low note, shaking his head slowly back and forth. "I'm gonna call you, son. Looks like one more falls to the skills of Jake Bosco." Laying out his cards, you see a flush of hearts.

You lay your cards out with a smile. "I don't confess to knowing how y'all play poker here in San Francisco, but a full house beats a flush back home in Louisiana."

Jakes grin falls from his face. David and Frank, sitting at the bar, both let out whoops of joy at seeing their tormentor fall. They rush over and pat John heartily on the back. Jake stands in a fury and storms out of the saloon, leaving his cards lying on the table.

Jake rolls a 8+14, for a total of 22. The differential in the check difference is 11, enough to win the hand and double your money. +2 to your Wealth.


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## знаток (Feb 13, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

The Marshal steps through the door as the beaten card player storms out, immediately recognizing D'Artois scooping his winnings off the table and sending him a knowing congratulatory grin.  The lawman's dark silhouette is accentuated by the contrast of the dimly lit bar and the falling sun behind him, though the polished silver star on his chest still stands out.  "Afternoon all," he calls out to the whole saloon, tipping his grey stetson.  "I see you've attracted some particularly fine patrons today, Mr. Hadfield," he calls to the bartender as he approaches the bar to greet the man with a smile and a handshake.  He quickly acknowledges the five men with deliberate eye contact, seemingly comfortably familiar with each man's identity and appearance.  

"Glad to see y'all could make it.  I'm Marshal Dusty Colburn."  No weapon is visible on the Marshal until he raises his arm toward the door at the back of the saloon, revealing a shiny shortened Colt pistol in a decorated holster at his hip.  "If Mister D'Artois is through driving the locals to poverty, I'd like it if you gentlemen'd bring your drinks and join me for a mite."


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## synecdoche (Feb 13, 2005)

*John D'Artois*

D'Artois smiles and tips his hat to Jake.  "Well, sir, it appears that duty calls.  Adieu."

He rises from the table, takes a look at the motley group now assembled in the bar, gestures at the door, and says, "After you, gentlemen."


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## знаток (Feb 13, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Dusty holds the door for the men as they enter the room.  "Have a seat, fellas."  As the crew chooses their seats, he closes the door behind them and walks to the head of the table.  

"I want express the gratitude of the US Marshals Service for your agreement to join me in this.  I'm also personally pleased that you've all joined me, as I specifically requested the aid of every man in this room based on my own familiarity with your skills and exploits.  Some of you may already know me, some may only know of me, while others may have never heard my name before; but I've known each of you well for months or longer.  Since none of you've ever met though, let's get acquainted right quick.  I can assure you we're all trustworthy here, so go on and tell everybody what you do."


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 13, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"Well Marshal, if you got yerself a bear problem, I'm your man.  Somehow though, I reckon that's not the case."  

The big man ambles into the room, spits out some more tobacco and addresses the group, "My name is Jebidiah Williams. At least that's mt Christian name.  Y'all can call me "Bear Trap" or Jeb.  Hell, I'll answer to Sally Sue for this kinda money. I make a livn' huntn' and trappn', bear especially.  It's nice to meet y'all and I thank the Marshal  here for his kind hospitality." With that, he flops himself in a chair and downs the rest of his second glass of whiskey.  He looks ruefully at the empty glass and sighs before he puts it down.

Let me know if you want me to start rolling fort saves for alcohol consumption.


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## Bobitron (Feb 13, 2005)

hobbit_killer said:
			
		

> Let me know if you want me to start rolling fort saves for alcohol consumption.




Can't say I'm concerned about it until you get 5 or 6 in you, at least. Big man like Jeb could probably toss back quite a few before really showing the effects.


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## Committed Hero (Feb 14, 2005)

*Michael Sun-Hand-High*

My name is Michael Sun-Hand-High of the Chumash. I have worked for the Great Chief in Washington before, but my price was dear.  If you have need of my tracking skills and none other, your problems are bigger than you think.


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## synecdoche (Feb 14, 2005)

*John D'Artois*

The man from the poker table smiles broadly and introduces himself.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen.  My name is John D'Artois, late of Ferriday, Louisiana.  As for what I do?  Well, I suppose I'm an adherent to the last true religion on the frontier-- the luck of the gaming table.  I'm what you might call a professional rake."


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## The Shaman (Feb 14, 2005)

Dakota sips his beer, nursing it. “Howdy. Name’s Dakota Turnbow. Cowhand, late of Nebraska.”


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## Max (Feb 14, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

"Nice to meet you, gents.  My name's Riley McClean.  I've been a deputy marshal in a few cow towns.  Lately I've been riding shotgun for a stage line."


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## знаток (Feb 14, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

"Alright boys, our mission involves Deepwood, an aptly named village in the Sierra Nevadas.  We're going there foremost to investigate the murder of the local preacher, but the situation in the village is a bit more complicated.  There've been some uncommon rumors about the case, and I need your help in sorting 'em out.  With luck, the lot of you will be an overmuch of skill and strength, but experience tells me there's a good chance you'll earn your two hundred dollars.  

"The rumors are fantastic enough that I'm gonna refrain from layin' 'em out for you just yet, as I'd like y'all to keep a clear head about this and let things reveal themselves first-hand.  For the fee you'll be paid, I'll expect y'all not to be harassin' me for details.  I'm bettin' you'll be figuring out what you need to know in due time.  

"If you're interest ain't worn out yet, we'll be meetin' at the stables across the street at first light tomorrow, ready to hit the trail.  If you need any further supplies tonight, there's a fella I know who keeps late hours and fair prices.  Any questions?"  He pulls a wad of cash from the inner pocket of his overcoat and holds it in folded hands in front of him.


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## synecdoche (Feb 14, 2005)

John D'Artois keeps his eyes on the money.  

"I accept your terms, sir.  And I believe I'll take advantage of your offer of a friendly supplier.  I expect I shall need a horse and a decent firearm."


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## The Shaman (Feb 14, 2005)

Dakota nods and says nothing, follows the other men out into the early San Francisco evening. After stabling Thunder with Lightning and seeing that the stable boy gives both horses extra oats and a good brushing, the wrangler and Lucky head off in search of a soup bone for Lucky, a restaurant for Dakota, and a drover’s hotel for both to spend the night.

The next morning finds Dakota, Lucky and the horses ready and waiting in the street across from the Rosewood as the first blush of the new day touches the eastern sky over the bay.


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## Max (Feb 14, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley listens carefully to what the Marshal is saying - and what he isn't saying as well.  He also takes note of the apparant caliber of men that has been assembled.  "Must be something serious Marshal.  Looks to me like you've rounded up a tough group to fix the problem," Riley Comments. 

"I'll take you up on your advance money and see you in the morning.  Staring at the hind end of a team of horses day after day ain't so interesting that I'd pass up a chance at $200," he says with a grin.  "Any of you gents know a good place to put up my horse and room for me for the night?  I'm new in town," he asks everyone, generally.

Riley will use the advance money to buy a Remington Double-Derringer, and use slight of hand to conceal it (+4 for Tiny, -4 for able to use quick draw).


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 14, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"Well sir, I appreciate the advance.  But I think I'm good with what I done brought.  Never had much use for a pistol anyway.  Ol' Ellie and this here Elk horn knife is all I have ever needed---well there was that time that hombre needed a whack with a shovel... I don't feel right takn' payment before a job's finished, anyways.  You just hold onto my share Marshal, and I'll see you and the rest of these here gents in the morning."

Bear Trap follows Dakota out, "Hold up there pardner, I'm a bettn' you know where to put a horse and mule for the night, so if ya don't mind the company, I'll come with ya."


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## знаток (Feb 15, 2005)

> "I accept your terms, sir. And I believe I'll take advantage of your offer of a friendly supplier. I expect I shall need a horse and a decent firearm."



The Marshal doles out two crisp ten-dollar bills to each taker and gives them directions to his man.  "I told him I might have some fellas stoppin' by, so just make sure he knows I sent you, even if he's closed.  Just get there as soon as you can."



> "Must be something serious Marshal. Looks to me like you've rounded up a tough group to fix the problem."



"Well, like I said, with any luck it'll be easy money.  Just make sure and keep your guns clean and your wits sharp."


> "Any of you gents know a good place to put up my horse and room for me for the night?



"If it's all the same to you, you can set your horses up at the rendezvous across the street and grab a room upstairs, that's my plan.  Mr. Hadfield runs both businesses, so you can trust yer horses'll be shiny and warm bright and early."

"Half-hour after sunup boys!"


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## Max (Feb 15, 2005)

"Well, like I said, with any luck it'll be easy money.  Just make sure and keep your guns clean and your wits sharp."

"Well, I can guarantee my guns are clean and they shoot straight.  Opinions vary on my wit, though," Riley grins back.

"If it's all the same to you, you can set your horses up at the rendezvous across the street and grab a room upstairs, that's my plan.  Mr. Hadfield runs both businesses, so you can trust yer horses'll be shiny and warm bright and early."

"Hell, Marshal.  You sure are pushin this what this guy has to sell.  You gettin a cut of the business or somethin?"  

As requested, Riley heads right over to the store to do his purchasing.


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## synecdoche (Feb 15, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> The Marshal doles out two crisp ten-dollar bills to each taker and gives them directions to his man.  "I told him I might have some fellas stoppin' by, so just make sure he knows I sent you, even if he's closed.  Just get there as soon as you can."




D'Artois bows. "Thank you, Marshal.  I will head in that direction presently."



			
				знаток said:
			
		

> "If it's all the same to you, you can set your horses up at the rendezvous across the street and grab a room upstairs, that's my plan.  Mr. Hadfield runs both businesses, so you can trust yer horses'll be shiny and warm bright and early."
> 
> "Half-hour after sunup boys!"




"Thank you Marshal, but I have my own accommodations that will suit me fine.  Rest assured I will be at the appointed place at the appointed hour."

D'Artois turns and exits the room after Riley, bound for the Marshal's supplier.

OOC: D'Artois needs a good gun and a horse, and I don't have the Sidewinder book yet (I am still out of town)-- any suggestions?  Just PM me or whatever.  I'm looking for a basic six-gun, but maybe with a bit of a flourish to suit D'Artois.  

D'Artois will also be picking up some travelling supplies-- a bedroll, some rations, and the like.


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## Bobitron (Feb 15, 2005)

synecdoche said:
			
		

> OOC: D'Artois needs a good gun and a horse, and I don't have the Sidewinder book yet (I am still out of town)-- any suggestions?  Just PM me or whatever.  I'm looking for a basic six-gun, but maybe with a bit of a flourish to suit D'Artois.
> 
> D'Artois will also be picking up some travelling supplies-- a bedroll, some rations, and the like.




The Colt Thunderer is the latest and greatest in 1877. You can get one nice n' purty, polished and engraved, for a purchase DC of 17.

Colt Thunderer~ Caliber .41 C, Dam 2d6, Crit 20, Range 30, ROF S, Mag 6 cyl, Size M, Whgt 2.5,  Purchase DC 16, $28

Don't worry about the traveling supplies until you get your book, syn.


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## The Shaman (Feb 15, 2005)

"Hold up there pardner, I'm a bettn' you know where to put a horse and mule for the night, so if ya don't mind the company, I'll come with ya."

Dakota looks up at the huge trapper with a smile. “Sure, big feller. I put my horses up at a livery off Market, a few blocks from here near the drover’s hotel, but the marshal said the stable across the street is fine, too. ‘s’up to you, I reckon. Yer welcome to tag along with me and Lucky.”


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## знаток (Feb 15, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> The Colt Thunderer is the latest and greatest in 1877. You can get one nice n' purty, polished and engraved, for a purchase DC of 17.



Depending on time or availability, maybe you could post his mastercraft options too, keeping in mind that the book issue is why he didn't have the weapon purchased already.


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## Bobitron (Feb 15, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> Depending on time or availability, maybe you could post his mastercraft options too, keeping in mind that the book issue is why he didn't have the weapon purchased already.




Considering the time frame, nothing with any particular customization will be available tonight, gents. Just some time to fill up on supplies and such before morning, and pick up a couple basic weapons.


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## Committed Hero (Feb 15, 2005)

Michael buys a few things and wires the rest to his family.


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## знаток (Feb 15, 2005)

Dusty bids the group a good night and takes a seat at the bar.  "Get me some o' that quality bug juice, would ya Mr. Hadfield?"


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## Bobitron (Feb 15, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> Dusty bids the group a good night and takes a seat at the bar.  "Get me some o' that quality bug juice, would ya Mr. Hadfield?"




"Yessir, Marshal Colburn." He pours a large glass, sliding it across the bar. People are starting to file in after a long day on the docks. The patrons are mostly the upper crust of the docks; traders, merchants, and travelers that just arrived off the long trip from back east.

Hadfield speaks up again while Dusty sips at his drink. "Looks like a tough group of folks ye've got together there, Marshal. Expectin' trouble up north?"  He pauses a bit, a little embaressed at his statement. "Ahhh... ummm... sorry about that, Marshal. My ears are pretty good, and I couldn't help but overhear your speech."

Calls start ringing out further down the bar for his attention. Nodding an apology, he moves on to help his other customers.


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## знаток (Feb 15, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Dusty had made a conscious decision not to warn the men about getting into trouble tonight, figuring they'd appreciate it more if he didn't baby them.  But now he wished he'd at least said something.  _The hounds are always out in San Fran, even on a Thursday night. Oh, well.  The fellers are all someone to ride the river with.  Guess I can trust 'em to turn up tomorra. _ 

He takes the drink in hand and turns to face the crowds as they enter the bar, eyeing the crowd but minding his own business.


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## synecdoche (Feb 16, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> The Colt Thunderer is the latest and greatest in 1877. You can get one nice n' purty, polished and engraved, for a purchase DC of 17.
> 
> Colt Thunderer~ Caliber .41 C, Dam 2d6, Crit 20, Range 30, ROF S, Mag 6 cyl, Size M, Whgt 2.5,  Purchase DC 16, $28
> 
> Don't worry about the traveling supplies until you get your book, syn.




Fair enough, that'll be what I get.  Can D'Artois arrange a horse for himself, too?  He'll just get whatever the Marshal's man recommends.  

In any case, afterward, d'Artois goes off in search of a hotel that is a bit more to his style (read: expensive).  He'll just get a room, stay the night, and go to the meeting in the morning, barring any unforeseen circumstances.


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## Bobitron (Feb 16, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> He takes the drink in hand and turns to face the crowds as they enter the bar, eyeing the crowd but minding his own business.




People seem pretty respectful of your badge, and all eyes are drawn to it at least once as they enter. Many give you a nod of greeting as they take seats at the bar or one of the gaming tables.

After ten minutes or so, you've drained your glass, and turn in early.


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## Bobitron (Feb 16, 2005)

You all go about your seperate ways for the evening. Those who need equipment head the Jameson's at Colburn's recommendation. It's a few blocks away, close enough to reach before the sun falls.

*Jameson's Well Stocked General Store*

Approaching the store, you note the sign stating the establishment is closed dangling in the window. It still swings to and fro, as though it had just been flipped. Looking through the window, you see the proprieter taking off a think apron and cleaning the countertop. When he sees you looking in the window, he smiles and gets the door.

"I was starting to wonder if you gentlemen were coming. Always happy to help out the Marshals.", he says, with a crisp English accent.

"What can I get for you fine people?"

Last chance for supplies. Jameson's Well Stocked General Store lives up to the advertisment above the door. Just about everything listed in the 'General Goods' section of the Sidewinder book (pg. 55) is available. 

Edit: Keep in mind, it's October and you are headed into the mountains. There is sure to be some cold days and colder nights, not to mention snow.


After wrapping up your business with Mr. Jameson, you each head off to stable your livestock and get a good night's sleep before the long day ahead of you tomorrow.


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## synecdoche (Feb 16, 2005)

"Good evenin', sir.  I'm going to be doing some travelling and need to be outfitted accordingly.  I'd appreciate your recommendations.  I will be in the mountains, and I'll also need a gun-- I was interested in those Colt Thunderers.  I'll take one please."

Sorry this is indefinite, but I still don't have access to my books.  Monday! D'Artoi will just take his suggestions and pay what he needs to.


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## Bobitron (Feb 16, 2005)

With the morning sun peeking over the rolling hills of San Francisco, you arise from the last warm, comfortable bed you are likely to see for awhile. Making even with the innkeeper and stables, you gather your belongings and mounts. 

The air still carries the chill of the night, and your breath and that of your mounts showing faint clouds of steam. The stevedores and merchants are getting to work on the docks, and the hum of industry soon fills the air. As you approach the Hadfield stables, you spot Marshal Colburn leaning up against the rail, drinking a steaming cup of coffee. He smiles as you approach, tossing the remainder of his drink out on the street and slipping the tin cup into a saddlebag. 

“That Hadfield is a stand-up man, but his coffee is harder than most whiskey.”  He spits out the taste with a scowl before continuing.

“Good mornin’, gents. I hope you’ve got all you need for a rough journey. Deepwood lies over 300 miles north of here, and deep in some inhospitable terrain. Time is of the essence here, so I’m plannin’ on getting us there by ridin’ straight through. We will take roads where practical, but Deepwood itself has only a network of trails connecting it to civilization. We’re going to have to cut cross-county at a few points to save time. We will avoid cities unless absolutely needed. I hope to cover about forty or fifty miles a day until we hit the hills outside the Sierra Nevadas. Until then, we’ll stay on the western side of ‘em, following with the mountains to our right shoulder. Any questions?"

Mounting his horse, he settles in the saddle, turning towards the Bay.

“I talked to a ferry captain last night, and he waits for us now. Unless there’s anything holdin’ us up, let’s get a move on.”


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## Committed Hero (Feb 17, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> We will avoid cities unless absolutely needed.




Are we trying to hide evidence of our passage?


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## Max (Feb 17, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley rises early, and double checks all of his gear as well as the loads in his guns.  He has a big breakfast, figuring that the Marshal will be impatient to get moving.  Arriving in plenty of time, he listens carefully to what the Marshal has to say.



			
				Committed Hero said:
			
		

> Are we trying to hide evidence of our passage?




"Good question there, friend.  I got one too, along the same lines.  I'd like to know if there is anyone you know of who might try and stop us from getting to Deepwood?  Also, since this really ain't my part of the country, any potential Indian or outlaw trouble we should look out for either before or after we hit the mountains?" Riley asks.


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## The Shaman (Feb 17, 2005)

Conditioned by long habit to rising before dawn and checking the herd before the first pot of coffee was brewed, Dakota glances at the sun hanging over the hills of the East Bay and offers, “Marshal, p’rhaps you can tell us more on the ferry, instead of standin’ here on the street?”


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 17, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap rides up on his draft horse with his mule in tow.  "Ready to go when you are Marshal.  Horse and this damn mule ain't as fast and slick as some of the mounts of these other fellas' but you can bet they can handle any terrain you got in mind and twice as long at it to boot."


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## знаток (Feb 18, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*



			
				Committed Hero said:
			
		

> Are we trying to hide evidence of our passage?



"No, Mr. Sun-Hand-High, no deliberate stealth necessary jus' yet."  


			
				Max said:
			
		

> [color=sandy brown]I'd like to know if there is anyone you know of who might try and stop us from getting to Deepwood? Also, since this really ain't my part of the country, any potential Indian or outlaw trouble we should look out for either before or after we hit the mountains?" [/color]



"As to your questions Mr. McLean, there's nothing too particular to be worryin' about.  The Wintu Indians have meant trouble to white folks passin' through in the past, but they're not so much a threat anymore.  In most areas they been pretty much rendered harmless in recent years, and they probably ain't goin' to be testin' their luck on us.  Any outlaws'll surely stay clear of us too, and part of the reason for taking the back roads is to avoid runnin' into trouble from either.  I do prefer quiet travel, don't you?  We'll divert and make a stop if necessary, but the trip shouldn't take too long so long as we stay focused.  This route should prove fastest, and as I said, time is of the essence."  


			
				The Shaman said:
			
		

> “Marshal, p’rhaps you can tell us more on the ferry, instead of standin’ here on the street?”



He acknowledges Bear Trap's reassurance with a nod.  "Mr. Turnbow's right.  If y'all got any more questions that don't require immediate answers, let's get movin'."  The Marshal doesn't pause long before turning his horse away, motioning for the men to follow with a quick wave of his hand.


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## synecdoche (Feb 18, 2005)

D'Artois replies "As you wish," and falls into step behind the Marshal.


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## Bobitron (Feb 19, 2005)

Weaving through the early morning traffic, people give your party right of way when the see a US Marshal rides at the front. You make your way to “Sarah’s Kiss”, a well-kept ferry waiting your arrival. The white-washed boat sits proudly in San Francisco Bay, small waves lapping against its hull with quiet slaps. 

“Ah, Marshal Colburn. Right on time.” A burly Irishman in a white officer’s jacket walks down the plank to meet your party. “Sarah’s Kiss is ready for yer group, as agreed.”

You board the vessel, and it makes quick time across the Bay, dropping you off at the opposite bank in short order. With a rigid salute to Colburn and a short bow to the rest of the party, the Irishman starts howling at his crew, getting the ferry turned back into the Bay. San Rafael rises up in the distance, and your long journey north to the Sierra Nevadas has begun.

By Colburn’s calculations, you can travel about 20 miles a day. That means a long trek of over two weeks to reach the isolated community. Colburn lays out the basic plan, expecting to stop in a only couple small towns along the way for supplies. The first week of travel will see you pass through Napa and the gentle Sacramento area, and the twelfth day brings you into Shasta County. From there, you will leave the main road and spend a difficult three days circling the southern base of Mount Shasta to reach Deepwood, which lies northeast of the mountain. 

The first day’s travel passes rather quickly, and with the fall of night you set up camp with the rapidly setting sun glinting off the Bay about a mile distant. After a quick meal of salt pork and beans, you settle in for the night, taking shifts to keep watch.

Waking in the morning, you eat a quick breakfast and drink a cup of Arbuckle’s, then mount up. This same routine repeats for days, and by the end of the fifth day, you are bored out of your mind. This is not the busy working travel of a cowhand, the nervous speed of a post rider, or the breakneck pace of a cross country stage, but a numbing movement with no activity. The sun is just starting to dip below the distant Coastal Mountains when a rider appears, one of the few you have seen yet. Nodding a greeting as he rides up, he opens his mouth and speaks with a long Texan’s drawl.

“Howdy. Care to share your fire?”  Waiting for agreement, he says, “Much obliged, pardners.”  He dismounts, his cowboy’s chaps and hat dirty from long days in the saddle.

“I’m Grant Buckley. My boys are about a mile behind, driving 300 special-bred cattle to San Francisco from the Bent J ranch up near Red Bluff. Some crazy would-be rancher from back east wants these ones put on a ship bound for Florida, of all places.” Grant shakes his head his quiet disbelief. "Glad to see someone else on the trail, though. These Californians think once it starts getting cold out, a man should stay inside."

As he helps you set up camp, a plume of dust rises in the north. “Movin’ right quick, ain’t he?”, Buckley comments curiously.

A single young man rides up, pulling his cow pony to a fast stop. “Buckley! The bridge at the Clementine Crossing washed out while the herd was crossing! We need you back up there now!”  

Buckley’s eyes widen, and he jumps up. “Any of y’all got some skills roundin’ up beefes? We’re short handed as it is, and I could use your help most sorely.”


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## synecdoche (Feb 19, 2005)

D'Artois calmly regards the frightened man, but replies "I'm afraid that my particular skill set wll be of little use to you, sir."


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 19, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"Well sir, if I can wrassle a griz to the ground, I should be able to handle a heffer or two.  I'll lend a hand."

Bear Trap shifts everything carried on his horse except for his rifle and rope to his mule. He ties Mule up with the parties mounts and is ready to take Horse and help out.


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## The Shaman (Feb 19, 2005)

Dakota nods and sets down his coffee cup. “With the Marshal’s leave, I can lend a hand.” With the practiced skill of many years, the wrangler saddles Lightning and prepares to ride out.


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## Committed Hero (Feb 19, 2005)

*Michael Sun-Hand-High*

"I'll go as well, as long as I'm not needed in camp...."

Michael looks at the marshal to gauge his opinion.


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## Max (Feb 20, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley takes news of this apparant emergency calmly.  After all, it isn't his problem unless the Marshal wants to take a hand.  "Up to you, Marshal.  You're payin the freight this trip.  We got things to do, but if you want us to help round up some cows we can.  Probably set us back a day, though," Riley guesses.  "We can't ride these horses all day, then round up cows all night and expect them to be ready for another long day of riding tomorrow."


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## synecdoche (Feb 20, 2005)

D'Artois regards the Marshal.  "You're the boss.  As I said, I am sure I'd only be in the way here, unless those cows are looking for a dealer.  But if you and the other gentlemen want to go lend a hand, I'd be happy to look after our camp here."


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## знаток (Feb 20, 2005)

synecdoche said:
			
		

> D'Artois regards the Marshal.  "You're the boss.  As I said, I am sure I'd only be in the way here, unless those cows are looking for a dealer.  But if you and the other gentlemen want to go lend a hand, I'd be happy to look after our camp here."




"Well, two things I believe in are not lettin' a man in need go unaided and not leavin' one's goods unguarded.  No need for you boys to feel obliged, but I say let's get to it!" 

He steps quickly to his horse and mounts it smoothly.  "D'Artois, you just fire a shot if you run into trouble, and keep that fire goin'."


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## Bobitron (Feb 20, 2005)

Buckley breaths a long whistle of relief, and cracks a gap toothed smile. Leaping up onto his still saddled horse, he starts off to the north.

D'Artois sits back down on a blanket, tilting his hat forward to block out the beams of the setting sun.

Reeling your horses about, you tear off up the road after Buckley. Hollering above the hoof beats, he calls out “We’ve got about one mile and a half to go. Careful of holes, this area is awful full of ‘em. Twist a horse’s leg like no one’s business. Clementine Crossing is a bridge built just a few years back! I can’t imagine what fool thing happened.”

Recalling what you know of the area, you remember the Clementine is a narrow river that threads down from Lakeport, a small town in the mountains to the west. It’s not a wide river, but has a reputation as a wicked one, with fast running waters. Clementine Crossing is the only bridge over the waters within about 15 miles.

As you rush through the brush and rough terrain approaching the river, you meet up with the wide, open space that looks trampled flat by south-ward drives. Looking north, you spot the glistening sheen of a river in the distance, lit by the red light of the setting sun. A cloud of choking dust rises from both shores, and soon enough, you hear the braying of panicked cattle. Approaching the river, you make out the broad forms of strange looking cattle heaving up and down in the river, with most already rolling hoof up, drowned in the fracas of those deep waters. A few cowpokes ride close to the shore, using long lassos to grab struggling beef from the Clementine. However, Buckley noted that they were driving 300 cattle, and you don’t note more than six or seven dozen in sight. Some of those aren’t even wet.

Buckley shouts out to one of his men. “Jack, what’s goin’ on here?”

“Thank God yer here. We’re doin’ what we can to wrangle up these ones, but most of the others have gone downstream.”  the cowboy replies.

“What in the hell happened on the bridge?” Buckley shouts back over the din.

Jack’s eyes, already narrowed to slits to keep out the dust, nearly shut as he sneers. “We crossed without trouble, at first. Then I heard a loud crack, and a blast like I done never heard afore. That damn Dooley must have set up ahead of us! I found scraps of dynamite over by the bridge, and one of the ‘pokes said he thought he saw Callahan on the other shore. The damn wood's splintered into toothpicks!”  

Buckley’s face stiffens into a marble-hard mask of rage. Drawing his rifle, he turns to you as Jack rides off towards shore. “Dammit, I never thought that mad Irishman would go this far. Looks like your help might be a little more important than I expected, Marshal.” He turns his horse east, calling out, “You men stay here and get these beefes outta the wet. Cal, yer with me. Dooley’s men probably set up east of here to catch the cattle as they went downstream. I’m gonna take the Marshal and his amigos and show them what happens to rustlers who mess with the Bent J!”

Turns out, Cal is the young wrangler that collected Buckley from your camp. His eyes betray his fear, but he grabs his reins tight and moves off with the rest of you.

He begins a quick pace east. Once away from the hullabaloo of the wrangling, he hollers out the particulars. 

“Dooley is another rancher who fancies our herd. When Mr. Brahms of the Bent J sold to that easterner, Dooley put up a huge fuss, saying he was gonna hire up some guns to steal the herd if he had to. Aww, hell, they never got along much anyhow, so we didn’t think much of it. We set out the next mornin’. I figured we was well ahead of trouble, but looks like Old Dooley was serious. Callahan is one of his best shooters, and right good with a stick a’ dynamite as well.”

About a quarter mile up, you pass along the river bank towards two small hills. Suddenly, you hear a shot ring out from what sounds like a high-powered rifle. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Cal’s eyes opened wide with shock, and a rapidly growing spot of dark red on his chest. His horse slows, and he drops from the saddle into a lump on the ground.

“Now that’s quite far ‘nuff, Buckley! We’ll shoot some more of y’all, if ya move any closer!”

OOC: Spot and Listen checks from everyone.

I hope the map below is clear enough for everyone, squares A-H down the left, numbers 1-13 across the top. The horse with no name (hehe) is Cal, now on the ground.


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 20, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

OOC:  Holy crap!  I used the die roller on the Wizards of the Coast website to do this and got a 20 and 19!!!!  My spot and listen are 6+20=*26 * and 6+19=*25* respectively.


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## Bobitron (Feb 20, 2005)

For Bear Trap's eyes only:

You'd know the sound of a Sharps 'Big .50' anywhere, though you didn't expect to ever be facing the business end of the barrel rather than looking down it at game. It's tough to tell exactly where it's coming from, but your best estimation is the top of the larger hill. Peering into the brush on top of the rise, you see the glint of the waning reddish light hit something metallic.


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## Committed Hero (Feb 20, 2005)

*Michael Sun-Hand-High*

Spot 19, Listen 21


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## знаток (Feb 20, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Spot: 25
Listen: 10


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## Bobitron (Feb 20, 2005)

Michael

You don't see anything, but it seems the gunshot and voice came from atop the larger of the two hills.

Dusty

The sound of the shot echos loudly in your ears, and the manner that it bounces off the water nearby makes it impossible to tell where it is coming from. Quickly looking around the area, you see a bit of movement near the brush at the top of the larger hill.


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## The Shaman (Feb 20, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota listens to Buckley's story - it's a tale too familiar by half to the young cowhand.

He surveys the scene on the Clementine stone-faced. Dakota long ago decided there ought to be a deep pit in the bottom of Hell reserved for rustlers and horse thieves. _There will come a reckoning_, he thinks. The wrangler reaches for his lasso to lend a hand to the cowboys struggling with the cattle on the river, but when Buckley turns east to pursue the rest of the herd, Dakota falls in with the Marshal and his posse instead.

The sound of the shot and the sight of young Cal falling from the saddle sends a chill down Dakota’s spine and he quickly scans the hills for danger.

<ooc> Spot: 18. Listen: 11.</ooc>


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## Max (Feb 20, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley joins the group as they ride off to help round up the cows, although that isn't his specialty.  "You know, I got a lot more experience eatin beef than I do herdin beef," he comments to no one in particular.  Indeed, an experienced cowhand (like Dakota) would probably note that Riley doesn't even have a rope so he probably isn't all that good with a lasso.

The situation changes rapidly, with the news that the herd was attacked.  As they follow Buckley along the river, Riley pulls his worn, but well cared for Spencer from it's sheath.  Unlike herding cows, gun trouble is something he knows a bit about.

The shot that rings out comes as no particular surprise, although it's too damn bad for that kid that it was him that took the bullet.  Now, where are the bastards exactly ...

Nice tip on using the Wizards dice roller!  It's hot today.  Just hope it works that well when the shooting starts.  Spot 17+6=23, Listen 20+11=31

edit - forgot to add my spot and listen ranks


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## synecdoche (Feb 20, 2005)

I've been having good luck with the IronyGames one, but I'll try the Wizards one today since it is so popular...

Spot: 3 + 10 = 13
Listen: 14 + 1 = 15


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## знаток (Feb 21, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

The Marshal looks at the terrain, eyeing the large hill to the group's right intently.  "I'd say we need to come to an agreement here.  We've got movement atop the large hill and I imagine there's more, so unless Buckley here can tell us how many we might be dealin' with, it's a bit of a gamble.  We can't afford to lose any horses any time soon, but that's a risk I'm willing to work with here."  His rifle at his side, the Marshal looks ready to send some lead in the direction of the murdererous crew.


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## Bobitron (Feb 21, 2005)

Riley

You catch a quick glance of what has to be a rifle barrel peeking out of the brush on top of the larger hill, but it quickly withdraws before you can see anything else. Listening intently, you hear at least three distinct voices on top of the hill. It's tough to tell what the words are, but you hear the word 'Marshal' more than once, and they seem to be arguing.


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## Bobitron (Feb 21, 2005)

Buckley glares about the area with murder in his eyes, raising his rifle and swinging it wildly around the horizon.

"Cal! You OK back there?"  The concern in Buckley's voice is easy to hear. A low gurgle from Cal is the only answer.

"Dammit Callahan, yer goin' to hell fer this!"

Another shot rings out in the cooling air, hitting the groud in front of Buckley's mount.

"Back off, cowboy!" This voice is obviously coming from the smaller hill to the north, and is tinged with a thick Irish accent. "Me boys'll fire if ye don't turn back! Take what's left of ye herd and head south like ye planned!"

Buckley turns his head to the group. "We can't just turn back! Cal's dyin', and my herd is 'bout to be stolen away!"


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 21, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap pulls his horse up short and angles it back so that some brush is between him and the big hill.  "Marshal, we got at least one with a Sharp's like Ellie here up on that big hill.  That means this cowpoke here is breathn'is last on God's greem earth."  I'll be right honest, I ain't never been in a shootout before but I can't just stand by while a man's life is taken over some cattle."


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## The Shaman (Feb 21, 2005)

_They sure got the bulge on us._ Dakota’s eyes strain to see the rustlers without success. Quickly he throws a leg over Lightning’s back and guides the bay to the ground. “Stay down, boy,” he says, stroking the horse’s neck then reaching for his rifle in the scabbard lashed to his saddle.

<ooc> Handle Animal 30 (take 10 +20 skill and class abilities) – both Dakota and Lightning are prone behind the bush in A3.</ooc>


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## Max (Feb 21, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley watches the smaller hill with his Spencer ready for a quick shot, as that is where this Callahan appears to be.  He's trying to spot anyone about to take a shot from there, preferably before it happens.

Riley quietly informs the Marshall of what he has heard, while he watches.  "Well, I can make out three different voices arguing from behind the big hill.  They don't sound happy to have you out here.  Maybe you oughta let everyone know real loud we got us a real live US Marshal out here, not just a bunch of Buckley's cowboys.  Might get some of them to back off," he quietly suggests.

"As for how to go about this, we ain't got spit for cover.  That leaves speed or darkness if you wanna avoid gettin ventilated.  So, we either gotta charge up there a horseback, or wait for full night and try sneakin around them.  One way obviously being faster than the other."

"The worst thing we can do is just sit here in rifle range doing nothing, so we gotta either go now or pull back and wait for full dark."


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## Bobitron (Feb 22, 2005)

*OOC:*


 Sorry, folks. It was brought to my attention that I made a mistake by placing D'Artois on the map when he should have been back at the camp. Please ignore his presence on the map. I will use the spot/listen check you posted as your checks for back at camp, syn.


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## знаток (Feb 22, 2005)

"You're right Mr. McLean.  If any of you gents aren't interested in being here, you'd better take Cal and move out.  I'll take 'em alone with Buckley here if need be."   The Marshal moves his horse to the front of the group and raises the barrel of his rifle into the air, resting the stock on his thigh.  
"Mr. Dooley, you may've succeeded in decimatin' this man's herd, but you got yourself a whole new sorta trouble now!" he calls out.  "Firing on a US Marshal ain't nothin' to poke fun at, and so far's I'm concerned, that's what you done here.  Now I want you and your boys to think real hard about what you're gettin' yourselves into.  I suggest you point those weapons in another direction and be on your way."  

Intimidate: 22


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## Bobitron (Feb 22, 2005)

The first voice you heard, now obviously coming from atop the larger of the hills, shouts out onto the riverbank. "You can take a walk jess as easy as we can, Marshal. We ain't got no argument with you and yers, and I know exactly who I shot. My shot's pretty damn near dead on, and I wern't aimin' at no lawman."

Callahan calls out as well. "Buckley, ye take Cal back to his mother. She'll be wanting to bury her son. If ye don'na turn back, we'll send ye back with more corpses ta carry. Johnson, if those men move an inch in our direction, you punch a hole in them with that cannon."

The first voice, presumably Johnson, voices agreement.

Buckley turns to the Marshal. "Dammit, Marshal, yer man's right. We're in no postion to fight these cowards in this way. Let's act like we're headed out, and come back in all sneaky like from the south. We'll catch 'em while they're roundin' up what's left of the herd. I bet they got a bunch of wranglers pullin' swimmers outta the Clementine as we speak, just downstream. The sun's down now, and we'll have the darkness on our side within a half hour." He looks to Colburn for a decision.


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## знаток (Feb 22, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

"Sounds like a plan to me, my man, and the right one at that.  I jes wasn't plannin' on lettin' you go in alone.  Let's get outta here fellas." 

Without changing his position or lowering his rifle, he calls again to the men on the hills.  "Killin' an innocent man ain't no different than shootin' straight at this badge you see here.  You boys ain't too smart now, are ya?  I've got three names now that'll damn sure be changed to mud before you get too comfortable, 'cause if you don't know it already, I'll tell you right now...the law's a bit bigger than me.  So we'll see ya 'round, 'less you got somethin' more to share."  Colburn pauses while Cal is laid over his saddle, then begins backing the horse away.


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 22, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap remounts his horse and starts backing up with the Marshal giving one last scan to the big hill.

OOC: Spot=15+6=*21*


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## Max (Feb 22, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

As soon as the Marshal indicates the posse is leaving Riley rides back the way we came quickly, until he is getting close to 200' away from the hills.  Then he stops and faces the hills again, with his Spencer ready to provide cover fire for the others as they load up the body and ride away, in case anyone from the hills opens fire.  

If there is a shot, Riley will return fire immediately.  He will aim slightly to the right of the muzzle flash.  That's Riley's right, not the shooter's right.

Riley takes a double move (120') away and readies an action to return fire, if someone from the hills shoots.  That is more than can be done in one round, but we seem a little loose on the rounds right now.  You can make it take two rounds if you're really counting.


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## Bobitron (Feb 22, 2005)

Max said:
			
		

> ...if you're really counting.












*OOC:*


 No need at this point, but thanks for keeping track for me.


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## Bobitron (Feb 24, 2005)

Backing away from the brigands, you eventually turn and ride back along the river for a spell. Once out of visual range, you turn to the south, riding along in the dark for about a quarter mile before turning parallel with the river. Buckley, riding hard at the front of the posse, slows and comments "That should be far enough, boys. I 'spect they will be waiting for us, but maybe coming at 'em from another angle'll get us some results."

He turns his horse to the north, heading back towards the river. "There's a shallow spot in the Clementine due north of here, by my reckoning. If there tryin' to pull what's left of the herd out, that's where they'll be doin' it." Riding slower, he dismounts after a few minutes and ties his horse to a thick bit of brush before slowly walking up a rise. As you climb, you can hear the mooing of cattle and the yips of cowboys closeby. Cresting the hill, you cautiously look over to find a group of at least a dozen cowpokes working hard to get some fine lookin' cattle into a temporary corral. The area is lit by a few lanterns sitting on posts near a chuckwagon, but most of the corral and its surroundings lie in darkness. At least four cowboys are near the wagon, carefully watching the area upstream, but none seem to pay any attention to the hill you are on. You see a group of men walking towards the corral from upstream, but it's too dark to pick out the details. 









*OOC:*


 Spot checks for more information. Map will be loaded up on Saturday.


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## Max (Feb 24, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

ooc: spot check for Riley is 4+6=10


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## The Shaman (Feb 24, 2005)

Dakota’s hand hesitates over the rifle scabbard as he listens to the exchange between the marshal and the rustler, a cold anger in his heart. _Those varmints get to ride away after killin’ a cowhand and stealin’ a herd?!?_ he thinks, incredulous.

The wrangler rises and brings Lightning to his feet, then slides into the saddle and follows the rest of the posse, trailing a bit behind the rest of the riders until he hears Buckley say, "That should be far enough, boys. I 'spect they will be waiting for us, but maybe coming at 'em from another angle'll get us some results."

Relieved that justice may yet be served on the no-good varmints, Dakota follows Buckley and dismounts with the rest of the posse, pulling his Winchester from the saddle scabbard. “Easy,” he tells Lightning, and the horse stands pawing the ground, reins draped over the saddle horn, waiting for Dakota’s call.

The wrangler checks his rifle and pistol and follows the posse over the hill to a view of the rustler’s roundup. Spot: 16


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## знаток (Feb 25, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Marshal Colburn waits until the last of the men have decidedly turned back before riding away slowly, eyes fixed on the hills.  Safely out of range, he quickens the pace until he can ride alongside Buckley to the turning point.  Riding back to the West and South, he makes note to the men, "There's no negotiatin' this time fellas.  With the threat of legal judgment I'm guessing they don't suspect too strongly that we'll be returnin' right away, but if they do, there'd be no other sensible place to come at 'em than from the South.  Hopefully they'll be too preoccupied with roundin' up cattle and movin' out quickly to put much thought into that."   
He analyzes the terrain again as they quietly approach.  "Let's not make a spectacle out of our approach.  The horses'll stay within a distance close enough to be useful if we need to run.  If anyone wants to go in mounted, you'll have to wait until the rest of us have opened fire.  I'm thinkin' it'd be best if Dakota, Jeb, and Riley locate some cover around the top and West of this hill and pick 'em off delicately.  Michael, Buckley 'n I can hit 'em from the Southeast.  We'll come in blasting from behind the hill after their attention is in your direction.  If we can get 'em in a vice and keep 'em from gettin back to their cover quickly enough, we oughtta be able to come outta here above snakes and with a little dealin' of justice under our belts."   

Spot: 20
Plan: 7 (fail)

We can adjust the plan based on spot check results.


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## Committed Hero (Feb 25, 2005)

10+6 - 16 Spot


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## synecdoche (Feb 25, 2005)

I don't know if this applies to me, but just in case: SPOT = 10 + 6 = 16.


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 25, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"Ok Marshal, if that's how you want it to go dsown.  Are al these men to face justice at the end of a barrel or are we just going to shoot at the armed ones? "

Spot 11+6=*17*

After Jeb takes a lok at what's going on, he dismounts horse with a reassuring pat on the rump and slips off quietly with Ellie to the West per the Marshal's instructions.

Hide 12+6=*18*, Move Silently 5+6=*11*, Survival (to find suitable cover) 7+14=*21*


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## знаток (Feb 26, 2005)

hobbit_killer said:
			
		

> "Ok Marshal, if that's how you want it to go down.  Are all these men to face justice at the end of a barrel or are we just going to shoot at the armed ones? "



"Well, I reckon near all of 'em will be armed, and I suspect all of them that are armed will stick their nose in the fight, so we shouldn't have to worry about the guilties claimin' innocence.  In brief, shoot the ones with the guns.  We'll have time after that to debate the lives of the others."


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## Max (Feb 26, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley listens to the Marshal's plan, and nods agreement.  "You're the boss.  I'll drop those varmits as delicately as I can.  Most likely, though, they're gonna hit the ground real hard."

Riley quietly uses all available cover to arrive unseen at the position the Marshal indicated.  

Hide check=9+12=21, Move Silently=19+12=31


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## Bobitron (Feb 26, 2005)

*OOC:*


 OK, map time. Sorry about the quality of my scribblings, I can't afford a decent mapping program right now. Don't expect updated maps, just explain your movements. I won't be too picky with placement.

Once again, each square is ten feet. Each of you is atop the hill to the south, using the brush as cover to look down over the makeshift corral. The large circle is the extent of the light from the powerful bullseye lanterns, that area counts as 'Bright', and the area outside that counts as 'Shadows' due to a bright moon and clear sky.

The white shapes without numbers are the remainder of Buckley's herd. THey are representative, and there are more scattered about the area, but for the sake of clarity we'll ignore tham. The numbered shapes are the rustlers. #'s 4, 5, 6, and 7 are unmounted and peering upstream to the west. They each hold rifles. #'s 1, 2, 3, and 8-13 are all mounted and concentrating on rounding the herd into the corral. #'s 14-17 are walking as well, moving downstream towards the corral. 

There is a huge racket rising from the roundup. Any Move Silently checks are going to be made with a +10 bonus.

Please post your starting position. As long as you are outside the light of the lanterns and not within 30 feet of a rustler, no checks are needed. You will all have a single suprise round, but please post your initiative score for the first combat round as well.

A spot check of 20 reveals the following:













*OOC:*


 The men walking downstream are all armed with rifles, and they seem in high spirits. One of them carefully watches the way they came from, making sure they are not followed. One of the rifles is a huge Sharps. 

If you need any clarification, please let me know. Any area outside the map is typical, with some brush scattered for cover.


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## The Shaman (Feb 27, 2005)

Dakota listens to the marshal’s instructions impassively. _They get no more chance than they gave Cal. They earned what’s comin’ to ’em._

“What’s the signal to open fire, Marshal?”


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## Max (Feb 27, 2005)

*Riley Mcclean*

Riley inches forward along the ground, until he reaches his desired spot.  As instructed by the Marshal, he is on the western side of the hill.  "What do you boys say we 'delicately' drop them boys walking along the river first?  Seems like they had to have been part of that ambush we ran into," Riley quietly suggests to Dakota and Jeb (assuming they are near him as the Marshal described.)

Riley will be prone and using whatever cover is available in square K-14.


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## hobbit_killer (Feb 27, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"Sounds about right", Bear Trap slides up next to Riley on his belly and bring s Ellie out and starts to sight  in on one of the men walking by the river.

Jeb will be in K13 prone peaking through the bushes.  He will aiming his rifle at #14 and waiting for the ok to open fire.  His initiative is 9+2=*11*


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## знаток (Mar 1, 2005)

The Shaman said:
			
		

> “What’s the signal to open fire, Marshal?”



"Once you three've got yer shots lined up you jes let loose.  That'll be our signal to come in from the side.  Y'all ready?" 

Dusty would like to come in from the right side of the hill, say at the lower end of the crest around the grid square all the way to the lower right (or further if possible).  His aim is to get to the wagon for cover if possible.  

Initiative: 19


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## Bobitron (Mar 1, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> Dusty would like to come in from the right side of the hill, say at the lower end of the crest around the grid square all the way to the lower right (or further if possible).  His aim is to get to the wagon for cover if possible.












*OOC:*


I can put you fifty feet out from the wagon, east of square U8. Is that OK?


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## знаток (Mar 1, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> *OOC:*
> 
> 
> I can put you fifty feet out from the wagon, east of square U8. Is that OK?



That sounds fine if the fellas agree.


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## The Shaman (Mar 1, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

“Right, Marshal,” answers Dakota.

The wrangler joins Jeb and Riley as the trio sneaks up the hill. Crawling Indian style, Dakota moves behind some bushes and looks down on the scene. _Those cows may bolt_, he thinks. _Best be ready to round ’em up once these bushwhackers is done for._

Careful to keep the barrel of the rifle under cover of the bushes, Dakota takes aim at one of the rustlers. _Okay, Marshal. Here goes._ The Winchester booms.

Dakota is in M13, prone behind the bushes, aiming at Rustler 8 in K6. Initiative 10, ranged attack 27, damage 14


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## hobbit_killer (Mar 1, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap nearly jumps out of his skin when Dakota's rifle cracks next to him, but he quickly readjusts and sqeezes Ellie's trigger, aiming at one of the men down by the river.

To hit roll for #14 19+10+=*29*+Confirmation 12++10=*22*  Concealment roll *50*.  Damage (assuming auto threat on flat footed opponents) 7+5+10+6=*28*


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## Max (Mar 2, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Having crawled into shooting position first, Riley takes a moment to make sure his extra bullet tubes for his Spencer are close at hand.  When Dakota fires, Riley is ready.  His Spencer booms almost in unison with Jeb's big Sharps.  Riley wasn't able to pick out any details of the men by the river, so he somewhat randomly chooses to shoot at #17.

Initiative:  14+8=22, 
To hit: 17+10-2 for range(Far Shot)=25, 
Confirm critical threat due to targe being flatfooted=9+10-2=17.  
Darkness concealment=70, 
Regular damage=2+10=12, 
Critical damage if appropriate is damage x2


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## Bobitron (Mar 2, 2005)

*OOC:*


 Waiting for actions in the suprise round from Marshal Colburn and Michael Sun-Hand-High, and an initiative roll from Michael Sun-Hand-High. Normal combat will begin on Saturday. Sorry you aren't involved in this, syn.


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## synecdoche (Mar 2, 2005)

*OOC:*


 Oh, that's okay.  I'm having fun following along.   Just remind me to never volunteer to guard the camp again, heh heh







*OOC:*





















*OOC:*










*OOC:*


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## Committed Hero (Mar 2, 2005)

Initiative 10.

Michael will fall in behind the marshall, brandishing his shield and tomahawk.


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## Bobitron (Mar 5, 2005)

Dakota’s shot rings out clear in the night air, causing the cattle’s heads to jerk up. The cowpokes scatter towards cover, but not before you each get off your shots. The cowpoke in his sights falls from his pony as the heavy bullet slams into his chest.

Jeb’s big buffalo gun roars, and another of the men near the riverbank falls, spinning with the force of the large caliber round.

Another sharp crack rings out nearly simultaneously with Bear Trap’s shot as Riley gently pulls the trigger on his Spencer. The rifle proves deadly accurate on the gunslinger’s hands. The round enters the man’s chest right below his right shoulder as he reached for the pistol at his side. He crumples to the ground without a sound, dead before he hits the dirt.

Marshal Colburn and Michael sneak up behind the wagon, with Buckley following about 20 feet behind. They find it easy to get into position, between the darkness and dust rising from the remnants of the herd.  As the gunfire erupts, they can see the cattle begin to stir as though they are about to panic…









*OOC:*


 Rustlers # 8, 15, and 17 are down. Colburn and Michael are now in square U8. We are now in normal combat. Please remember to designate which target you are attacking and make a concealment roll if they are outside the light of the lanterns.

*Initiative*

Riley: 22
Dusty: 19
Rustler #17:  17, down
Rustler #16: 15
Rustler #14: 12
Bear Trap: 11
Dakota: 10
Michael: 10
Rustler #1: 8
Rustler #2: 8
Rustler #3: 8
Rustler #4: 8
Rustler #5: 8
Rustler #6: 8
Rustler #7: 8
Rustler #8: 8, down
Rustler #9: 8
Rustler #10: 8
Rustler #11: 8
Rustler #12: 8
Rustler #13: 8
Rustler #15: 7, down
Buckley: 6
Cattle: 5


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## Max (Mar 6, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley quickly shifts his aim to the next rustler in the group along the river, and sends two .56 caliber slugs his way.  


 
Riley shoots at #16, who should still be flat footed.
First shot To hit: 10+10-2 for range(Far Shot)=18,
Darkness concealment=37
Damage=5+8=13,
Edit: forgot to confirm the critical assuming they are flatfooted: 4+10-2=12
Damage x2

Second shot To Hit=10+5-2=13.
Darkness concealment=27,
Damage=1+8=9,
Confirm critical if a hit=10+5-2=13
Damage x2


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## знаток (Mar 6, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Dusty forfeits the surprise round in order to get closer to the wagon.  His intent is to fire from the top left of grid T8.   

The Marshal approaches the wagon on light feet, satisfied at the distraction provided by his hilltop riflemen.  He motions for Michael and Buckley to head around the left side of the wagon as he steps up behind it.  Peering around the right side, he takes aim with his Winchester at the man at the far end of the wagon.  A peculiar nostalgic sensation rises in him as he feels the weight of his trusted rifle in his hands, the imminence of the trigger squeeze warming his blood comfortably.  

Attack on Target #4: 18
Damage: 7


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## hobbit_killer (Mar 6, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap quickly reloads Ellie and sights in on another rustler.  The buffalo gun cracks the night air again.

OOC:  Well since I think you had me shooting #15 the first time even though I said #14, I will plug #14 this time 2+10=*12* *97* on concealment *7* damage.


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## Bobitron (Mar 7, 2005)

hobbit_killer said:
			
		

> OOC:  Well since I think you had me shooting #15 the first time even though I said #14, I will plug #14 this time 2+10=*12* *97* on concealment *7* damage.












*OOC:*


 Sorry about that, hk. Thanks for being flexible.


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## The Shaman (Mar 7, 2005)

Without hesitating Dakota works the level of the Winchester, chambering another round, and aiming at another rustler. Again the rifle speaks.

Firing at rustler 9, ranged attack 13, miss chance (20%) 46, damage 11


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## Committed Hero (Mar 8, 2005)

Michael will peek in the back of the wagon, and if it is empty, get to the SW corner of T8 and ready a Colt attack depending on what cowboys 5-7 do.


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## Bobitron (Mar 9, 2005)

Combat Round #1

McClean fires off two more slugs in rapid succession, working the lever of his rifle in a smooth, practiced motion. His first shot slams into the rustler’s leg, which causes him to stumble. The second round flies harmlessly over the man’s shoulder, sending up a spray of dirt where it hits the ground.

You see the marshal move quickly to the edge of the wagon, peering around the corner at the rustlers in the lantern’s light. Taking aim, Dusty fires a round into the man closest to the corral, hitting him square in the chest. The man drops to his knees, covering his wound with both hands.

The injured man that Riley fired on shouts out in pain, a strong Irish lilt evident in his voice. “We’re bein’ ambushed, lads! They must be on the hill!” He draws a large pistol from his belt, firing off a round blindly towards the men atop the rise. It flies over the group’s heads without striking a target.

Bear Trap finishes loading Ellie and brings it back on target. By the time the rifle is aimed, he sees his target rapidly loading his own Sharps. The blast send a lick of flame along the path of the bullet, which hits the ground at the rustler’s feet, causing him to leap to the ground, dropping his rifle. He scrambles to pick it up, but ends up on his back behind the brush, still working on preparing his Big .50 for a shot.

Dakota firmly grasps his Winchester, and aims at one of the closer cowboys on horseback. The rifle cracks, hitting the man dead center in the chest. He falls from the saddle, his horse rearing and making haste towards the east.

Michael rushes up to the wagon with the Colburn, but stops to peer into the wagon. Seeing nothing of importance, he moves to the southern corner of the wagon, raising his pistol at the nearby rustlers, who turn in shock to find someone behind them.

The three rustlers opposite the corral (#’s 1, 2, and 3) each look about anxiously as the cattle start to stamp about in a display of nerves. They each start riding back and forth in front of the beef in an attempt to keep them from moving to the west, calling out in calming voices. None of them draw weapons.

Michael’s sudden appearance from behind the wagon, coupled with the moans coming from the wounded rustler clutching his gut nearby, proves too much for the men near the wagon (#’s 5, 6, and 7). Looking at each other, they seem to reach a silent agreement and each man raises his hands high into the air.

The other men, mounted and just outside the embrace of the lantern, each draw pistols, but do not fire. They look about in a confused fashion. One of them calls out towards the river. “Callahan! Johnson! What the hell is goin’ on here?!?” A response is not heard.

The cattle, terrified from the gunfire, begin moving as a herd to the east. The quick thinking rustler nearest the corral (#3) moves to shut the gate, trapping the cattle already corralled. Building up speed as they run, they follow the riverbank upstream, back towards the bridge. You hear panicked yelling coming from the remaining men to the west, but the rumble of the herd is enough to drown out the details. The men who were trying to control the herd opposite the corral give up and begin to run towards the east.

Buckley walks up behind Michael, brandishing his pistol in a manner that makes the brave suspicious as to whether he had ever used one before. Aiming it at the surrendering rustlers, he shouts out, “Git down on the ground, you bastards! Drop them belts!”  Each of the men drops to the ground, unfastening gunbelts and letting them fall as they comply.









*OOC:*


 The herd is picking up steam as it moves to the west, now centered on square G4 and stretching 20 feet in each direction. It will reach the western edge of the map by the end of round two. Rustlers 10-13 are still standing their ground, but have not yet fired. Rustlers 1-3 have turned to the east, and now occupy square Q3. #’s 16 and 14 are both out of sight, somewhere behind the brush near C5.

Actions for the second round?

Riley: 22
Dusty: 19
Rustler #17: 17, down
Rustler #16: 15, wounded
Rustler #14: 12
Bear Trap: 11
Dakota: 10
Michael: 10
Rustler #1: 8, running east
Rustler #2: 8, running east
Rustler #3: 8, running east
Rustler #4: 8, down
Rustler #5: 8, surrendering
Rustler #6: 8, surrendering
Rustler #7: 8, surrendering
Rustler #8: 8, down
Rustler #9: 8, down
Rustler #10: 8, standing ground
Rustler #11: 8, standing ground
Rustler #12: 8, standing ground
Rustler #13: 8, standing ground
Rustler #15: 7, down
Buckley: 6
Cattle: 5


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## Committed Hero (Mar 9, 2005)

*Michael Sun-Hand-High*

[Ah, Frightening Presence rocks....]

I'll stay with Buckley and collect the prisoners' weapons.


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## hobbit_killer (Mar 12, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Jeb curses under his breath for missing and chambers another round.  He shifts his aim to the rustlers yelling on horseback and zeroes in on the one yelling for Callahan.  

OOC:  I am going to ready an action to fire if #10, 11, 12, or 13 make any threatening actions (level a gun, fire, ride someone down)  if that happens my to hit roll is natural 20+10=*30 * confirmation 12+10=*18* conceal ment (if needed) *61*.  Damage *21*


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## Max (Mar 12, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley keeps his rifle trained on the bushes where Callahan and the other one went for cover.  He  yells out, "Tell yer men to drop their guns, Callahan, and come out of them bushes with your hands up!  No need for any more of you boys to die!"

Riley readies an action to shoot anyone in the bushes where Callahan and the other guy are, if they shoot at us.  Even if they don't come out from the bushes, the flash when they shoot should give their location away.


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## знаток (Mar 14, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn nods approval to Michael and walks briskly toward the cattle thieves' leader around the north side of the corral, the thick dust cloud providing him some additional cover.  He's conscious to keep the cattle between him and the men until he can get a good look at where they stand.  

Spot:27
His aim is to head around the corral and then directly west along the 3-4 line.


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## The Shaman (Mar 14, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*



			
				Max said:
			
		

> "Tell yer men to drop their guns, Callahan, and come out of them bushes with your hands up!  No need for any more of you boys to die!"




Dakota’s face is grim in the darkness. _It’s a bullet or a noose for these varmints, Riley._

He waits and watches for the rustlers’ response.

Dakota’s Winchester is trained on rustler 12 – if he takes threatening action (anything other than following Riley’s instructions immediately, actually), then Dakota fires off two quick shots: ready action - ranged attack on rustler 12 18, concealment miss chance (20%) 83, damage 13 and ranged attack 2 18, concealment miss chance (20%) 49, damage 3.


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## Bobitron (Mar 16, 2005)

Round Two

Riley quickly works the lever of his rifle once again, chambering another round.  Glancing over towards the wagon, he can barely make out the Marshal moving towards the corral, as though he means to approach the rustlers by taking a path along the river.

He raises his voice and shouts out to Callahan. "Tell yer men to drop their guns, Callahan, and come out of them bushes with your hands up! No need for any more of you boys to die!"

No response comes from the brush, but after a moment, you see the two figures leap up from the brush. They run to the west, away from the oncoming herd of cattle, dropping their rifles as they bolt. Riley holds his fire, noting the path they take will be a short one. It’s obvious from your vantage point that they won’t get far.

Bear Trap’s aim is squarely on the chest of one of the mounted rustlers, a silent dare for him to make an aggressive move. Dakota swings his Winchester towards another of the men.

One of the mounted men (#13) raises his pistol towards the hill where the posse lies. Jeb and Dakota fire almost as one, the two rapid shots from the smaller Winchester seemingly taking up the same amount of time as the brutal roar of the Big ‘50. Bear Trap’s heavy round catches the man high in the chest, exploding out of his back with a spray of blood that is visible even in the poor light at the edge of the lantern’s embrace.  The two bullets from Dakota tear into the man’s chest as well, staining his jacket with two dark circles. The man slumps forward in his saddle and moves no more, his pistol falling to the ground.

Any fight that was still in the minds of his companions is snuffed out pretty quick after the gunfire. The remaining gunmen drop their iron and raise their hands high in the air. “We don’t want no more trouble!” one of them cries out into the cooling night air. 

Michael moves around to each of the men near the wagon, tying their hands tightly and searching them for arms. After a moment, he has a nice pile of pistols and knives at his feet. Buckley covers the men with his pistol.

The cattle are really building up steam as they rush to the west. They soon overtake the running criminals, and you hear the screams of panic as the cattle sweep over the runners in a sea of dust and trampling hooves.









*OOC:*


 That’s it for combat, boys. Three of the rustlers made their way off the map to the east without a shot, six went down in the withering gunfire from the hill, six have surrendered, and the two men to the west seem to have been trampled by the stampeding herd. It will be easier to discern Callahan’s fate from closer up, once the dust has cleared.


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## The Shaman (Mar 16, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

“Keep ’em covered, boys – I’m going after those cattle,” Dakota tells Riley and Bear Trap.

Rising from the bushes the wrangler returns to where Lightning waits patiently at the bottom of the hill. Sheathing the Winchester, Dakota swings into the saddle and with his lasso in one hand and the reins in the other, spurs the cow pony to follow the stampeding herd.

The cowhand cuts behind the herd, twirling his lasso and calling “Hiyaa! Hiyaa!” With the care born of long experience Dakota and Lightning work their way to the head of the stampede and attempt to turn the lead steers inward, to create an inward spiral that will bring the stampede to a halt.

<OoC> Ride 30 (take 10 +20 Ride), Handle Animal 35 (includes AP +6)</OoC>


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## Max (Mar 16, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley shifts his aim to the remaining rustlers, while they are disarmed.  He will continue to provide cover for the Marshal and the others on the ground until everyone is secured.  Once that is done, he will either come down and guard the prisoners or round up everyone's horses depending on what the Mashal wants to do.


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## знаток (Mar 18, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Avioding the cattle, Colburn sticks to the fence on his way toward Callahan's location, rifle still aimed.  As a sheriff in Colorado he had ample experience with rustlers such as these, but it was a rare occasion to catch them by chance in the process of acquisition.  More often he was required to track down the thieves by following the trail of their brand-artistry, interrogating clients, or squeezing confessions out of those with a reputation.  In an industry as large as cattle-theft now was, it was a challenge to narrow any activity down to a single source, so a find such as this was certainly a special treat for Dusty.  

Any hanging day was a good one, but the unexpected ones were best.


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## Bobitron (Mar 26, 2005)

Dakota spurs his pony off after the rapidly disappearing cattle in an attempt to stop the stampede. The ride to catch the herd is a fast one; Lightning has a inborn ability to find his way through tough terrain unlike that of any horse he has worked with. Most cowboys tend to view horses as tools, but the effort Dakota has put into training Lightning really shows through in an instance like this.

Moving quickly up through the herd in a jostling, dusty moment, Dakota reaches the head steer, a large, scarred bull with wide horns. With slight pressure on his left side, he starts to guide the herd toward the river. With no place to run except back into the cold waters of the Clementine, the steer circles the herd around in an ever tightening circle until half of the herd is barely moving. Dakota’s lasso flashes out at the bull and lands firmly around the thick horns. Pulling hard on the reins, Turnbow practically sits Lightning onto the ground, leaning hard back into his saddle to shift his weight down to the ground. The bull twists and falls to the ground in a heap. The remainder of the herd begins to mill about, breathing hard and steaming into the cooling night air.

Riley and Jeb continue their sharp-eyed watch over the area around the corral, carefully aiming at each of the rustlers in turn as Buckley and Michael move among them, disarming the criminals and using short lengths of rope to bind their hands. Once they are bound and kneeling in near the wagon, Riley moves down to guard the prisoners, joining the others in the light of the lanterns.

The Marshal moves carefully around the north of the corral, squinting to see through the dust raised by the herd. His rifle leveled to the west, he makes his way along the river, carefully glancing back and forth as he scans for Callahan. Moving to the brush (square C5), he spots the trampled body of a man, his ribcage poking through his shirt in a few spots and his face bloodied beyond recognition. Letting out a low whistle, the Marshal hears a metallic click and spins about to see what must be Callahan lying about 5 paces away.

Callahan is a ruddy-faced Irishman wearing a gentleman’s outfit, bleeding from a bullet wound in his chest. He fumbles as he tries to draw a small nickel-plated pistol from his belt, dropping it nearby on the ground. Both of his legs are shattered and bent at an angle that the good Lord never intended.

“Damn you to Hell, lawman.” He spits out a bloody tooth in the Marshal’s direction.


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## Max (Mar 29, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Although he is casually leaning up against a wagon, Riley keeps a sharp watch on the prisoners, making sure they aren't up to any funny business.  He makes a point of keeping a wagon between himself and any possible shots the rustlers who ran away might try.  

"Jeb or Michael, you wanna keep watch to the east and make sure them rustlers that ran away don't come back and surprise us like we done to them?  I got these boys covered" he says confidently.


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## Committed Hero (Mar 29, 2005)

Michael smiles and looks for a good vantage point.


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## знаток (Mar 29, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> “Damn you to Hell, lawman.” He spits out a bloody tooth in the Marshal’s direction.



Colburn lets a fleeting and subtle grin pass his lips as he recognizes the struggling Irishman.  He glances around to see that the others have the situation under control.  

"You know, my troubled friend," he says as he turns his attention back to Callahan, "I have to confess to tellin' you a bit of a white lie earlier."   The Marshal lowers his rifle and walks toward the man.  Looming over him, he continues slowly and deliberately, "The inaccuracy in my late dialogue was that the law - as you may have noticed - ain't necessarily bigger than I.  And I have to tell ya, the feeling I'm gettin' from you is that you ain't too interested in reconcilin' with either one." 

Colburn sighs as he draws his Colt, the contoured grip still cool from the night air.  "Personally, I'm glad you stuck around."  He plants a boot almost gently on Callahan's right hand.  "I'll tell you what...you can tell me where these head were goin' and die easy, or you can carry on as you were and please the boys with a truly entertaining rope show."


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## Bobitron (Apr 2, 2005)

Callahan's eyes widen as Dusty's boot brushes his bloody hand. He looks furtively at a copse of trees just south of the river, then snaps his gaze back up to meet the Marshal's.

"There's no one involved but us. We're due ta sell the beef to an auction house, but they don't know where they are coming from. Dooley sent us, but I know that half-wit Buckley probably already told you that."

He wipes his face with a filthy sleeve, smearing a line of blood across his sideburned cheek.

"These men are just hired guns." Callahan's eyes suddenly light up as he looks downriver. "And it looks like they are on the way back! This way, boys! $100 to whoever kills this bastard lawman!"

As you look back over your shoulder, seeing nothing, Callahan quickly rolls to his left, revealing a stick of dynamite. He reaches out with his left hand to light it, holding an engraved silver lighter.  









*OOC:*


 Make an initiative roll, знаток. Calahan will light the dynamite on 17. I took the liberty of rolling to avoid Callahan's bluff, which you failed miserably.


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## знаток (Apr 4, 2005)

Bobitron said:
			
		

> Callahan quickly rolls to his left, revealing a stick of dynamite. He reaches out with his left hand to light it, holding an engraved silver lighter.



The Marshal catches the movement and the glint of the moon reflecting off the lighter out the corner of his eye.  The squeeze of the hair trigger is so subtle, it'd be hard to tell if it wasn't his adrenaline alone that fired the pistol, but the bullet flies as swiftly without regard.  "You decided your fate long ago, Irishman." 

Initiative: 27
Attack: 17


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## Bobitron (Apr 4, 2005)

The heavy bullet slams into the Irishman's chest. He drops the dynamite and lighter with a gurgle that brings blood flowing onto his chin and drops back, moving no more.









*OOC:*


 I took the liberty of rolling your damage, but include it next time, even if you aren't sure you hit. Nice initiative roll!


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## Max (Apr 6, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley looks up quickly at the shot, trying to see where it came from.  "You ok, Marshall?" he calls out.  Keeping the prisoners in view, he quickly shifts positions after calling out .... just in case.

edit for spelling


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## знаток (Apr 7, 2005)

Colburn returns the pistol to its holster and slowly looks around.  "All's dandy, Mr. McLean.  Fantastic work everybody!  Now let's take care of these vermin and get some shuteye!  No need to drag it out.  I don't feel like spendin' my night lookin' for enough sturdy branches for all of 'em."  He yells for Buckley.  "Get on back and bring whatever men ain't occupied to take care of these cattle.  Our work here is done."


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## The Shaman (Apr 8, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

The stampeding cattle stopped, Dakota gathers in his lasso and strokes Lightning’s neck. “That’s the way, fella,” he says with feeling.

Satisfied the herd won’t bolt again, Dakota and Lightning lope through the darkness back to the wagon and the corral. By the time he returns the rustlers have been disarmed. He rides up to the marshal, tipping his hat, and says, “Good work, Marshal.” He nods in the direction of the rustlers. “Do we look for a tree now, or do we wait until morning?”


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## Bobitron (Apr 8, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> He yells for Buckley.  "Get on back and bring whatever men ain't occupied to take care of these cattle.  Our work here is done."




Buckley gives a wave and nod, then lopes off to his horse. Mounting up, he rides west towards his crew.


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## Bobitron (Apr 8, 2005)

The Shaman said:
			
		

> He rides up to the marshal, tipping his hat, and says, “Good work, Marshal.” He nods in the direction of the rustlers. “Do we look for a tree now, or do we wait until morning?”




The prisoners look up forlornly as the gathered posse decides their fate. One, braver than the rest, speaks up.

"Look, we didn't shoot nobody. We ain't bad men. Just outta work cowboys lookin' to make a buck er two."

Removing his hat, he scratches his head nervously before continuing.

"Let us go, Marshal. I swear on the Good Book, y'all 'll never see us again."

His fellow rustlers nod emphatically, their young faces glowing with hope in the torchlight.


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## The Shaman (Apr 11, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

“It’s a hard fix, boys, but you ride with an outlaw, you die with an outlaw,” replies Dakota, his voice impassive. “I’m sorry y’all crossed the line, but killing and rustling, well the penalty’s the same where I come from.”

The wrangler shifts slightly in the saddle. “It’s the marshal’s posse. It’s his play.” Dakota fixes his gaze on Marshal Colburn.


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## знаток (Apr 12, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn's eyes coolly find the rustler as he speaks.  "You fellas heard me, I don't feel like tree-huntin'."  In an instant he raises his pistol to the speaker, firing a single shot into his neck.  "There's plenty an honest way to make a buck gentlemen, and the ones that do it quick and easy - with no regard for the law that gives you the right to do so - ain't without consequences."

Attack: 18


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## hobbit_killer (Apr 12, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap winces at the shot, "I ain't agreen' with it, but it's your call on how you wanna do these boys.  You can shoot em' yourself, though.  I want no part of it.  Guess I ain't got the stomach for shootn' a man down like this."

With that he walks over to his horse and pulls a bottle of whiskey out of his saddlebag and takes a long pull from it.


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## Bobitron (Apr 12, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> In an instant he raises his pistol to the speaker, firing a single shot into his neck.




The man's eyes bulge as the shot rips into the soft tissue of his neck. He falls face first into the dust at your feet, blood forming a muddy pool as he gurgles in the dirt.

The others quickly drop flat on the ground, wide-eyed as they watch the man's life blood flow onto the ground.


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## The Shaman (Apr 12, 2005)

Dakota's eyes widen as the marshal shoots the rustler in the neck and Lightning steps back. _I didn't reckon on that_, he thinks reaching for the Colt strapped to his own hip as the big trapper says to Colburn, "I ain't agreen' with it, but it's your call on how you wanna do these boys.  You can shoot em' yourself, though.  I want no part of it.  Guess I ain't got the stomach for shootn' a man down like this."

The wrangler’s thumb flicks the loop off the Thunderer’s hammer as his hand closes around the grip. “Marshal, I’ve shot a few men and I’ve hung a few more, but I’ve never gunned down a defenseless man in cold blood.” He tugs slightly at Lightning’s reins, turning the horse slightly to bring his gun-hand to bear. “If you’re set on shooting these boys, maybe we should at least give ’em blindfolds first, and a chance to make peace with their Maker?”


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## знаток (Apr 13, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

One might expect a man to cool down after some logical discussion such as this.  The problem with that expectation applied here was that the Marshal had been equally calm throughout.  "Right you are.  Your assistance is much appreciated.  Now y'all get on back to the camp and settle in.  I'll take care of this situation."  Colburn holsters his pistol.  "Riley,  Michael, you fellas check that wagon for anything useful before you scram...and don't touch nothin' personal."

Sorry again about the damage roll.


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## Max (Apr 14, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley looks on impassively as the Marshal cuts down one of the tied up rustlers, noting the reaction of the others.

 "Well Dakota, personally, I agree with you.  But in the end what's the difference between hanging, which might mean slowly being choked to death, or a fast bullet?  Either way, you're dead with no chance to defend yourself," says the gunfighter.

"I'd say cut them lose, with no weapons and afoot, but I'll leave it up to the Marshal what he wants to do.  However, Marshall, you might want to consider that Dakota here just did some some fast work to stop the stampede, and done a damn good job of it.  You keep popping off with that six-gun and you're gonna get those cows running again, and this time they may not stop before they hit the ocean,"  Riley points out.



			
				знаток said:
			
		

> "Riley,  Michael, you fellas check that wagon for anything useful before you scram...and don't touch nothin' personal."




Riley looks at the Marshal and just shakes his head.  "I didn't lose nothing in those wagons and I'm no thief who goes pawing through other people's stuff.  I'll see you back at camp," he says, stalking off to where his horse was left.


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## The Shaman (Apr 14, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota listens to the gunslinger, then the marshal without comment. He slips the loop back over the hammer of his pistol and tips his hat, then with a click of his tongue Lightning takes off at a trot back toward the posse's camp.

The cowboy's thoughts are as dark as the night. “That river got deep mighty fast tonight,” he says to Lightning. The horse snorts softly in reply and Dakota pats the cowpony’s neck.

To pass the time, and to avoid surprising D’Artois, Dakota begins to sing, the words carried aloft by his pleasant baritone into the gloomy night.

_Have you heard tell of sweet Betsy from Pike 
She crossed the wide prairie with her lover, Ike
With two yoke of oxen, a big yellow dog,
A tall Shanghai rooster and one spotted hog

One evening quite early they camped on the Platte
‘Twas nearby the road on a green, shady flat
Betsy, sore-footed, lay down to repose
In wonder Ike gazed on his Pike County rose

The Indians came down in a wild yelling horde
And Betsy got scared they would scalp her adored
Under the wagon wheel Betsy did crawl
She fought off them Indians with musket and ball 

Out on the prairie one bright starry night
They broke out the whiskey and Betsy got tight
She sang and she shouted, she danced on the plain.
She made a great show for that whole wagon train

The Shanghai ran off and the cattle all died
The last piece of bacon that morning was fried
Ike got discouraged and Betsy got mad
The dog wagged his tail and looked wondrously sad 

They soon reached the desert where Betsy gave out
And down in the sand she lay rolling about
Ike in great terror looked on in surprise
Saying, Betsy get up, you’ll get sand in your eyes 

Sweet Betsy got up in a great deal of pain
Declared she’d go back to Pike County again
Ike, he just sighed, and they fondly embraced
And she traveled along with her arm round his waist_

Dakota repeats the first verse as he dismounts and walks the last dozen or so yards into camp, where the gambler is waiting. “Evenin’, D’Artois,” he says with a nod as he unsaddles the cowpony. Dropping the saddle and bags a short distance from the campfire, Dakota removes Lightning's bit and bridle and lets the pony cool down while the wrangler retrieves a lead rope from his saddle bag.


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## synecdoche (Apr 14, 2005)

*D'Artois*

D'Artois is seated on a flat rock, playing with a deck of cards.  He hears Dakota's song and looks up.  "Good day, sir.  I trust the expedition went well."


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## The Shaman (Apr 14, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota considers D’Artois’s question before answering. “Well, we found them rustlers and got the cattle back. One of the cowboys and a few of the rustlers were killed. No one from the posse was hurt, near’s I can tell.” He pauses, slips the lead rope over Lightning’s head. “That marshal is a hard man.” He pauses again. _Do I say more?_

“I’m gonna water my horse and brush him down,” Dakota finishes. “The others should be along soon. They can tell you more.” With a nod Dakota takes his leave to tend to Lightning.


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## hobbit_killer (Apr 15, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"Ya know Marshal, I ain't to fond of grave diggn' and I doubt you are either.  So before you pile em' up, I suggest you get em' to diggn."

Bear Trap's says this with a demeanor that is cold and uncaring.  Completely different from his earlier comments.  Perhaps he means it, pehaps he just wants to poit out how cold blooded the Marshal's actions are. He then slips his Big '50 into the scabbard on Horse and makes for camp.


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## знаток (Apr 23, 2005)

Colburn calmly watches the men depart.  As they ride away, the Marshal is heard ordering the prisoners to remove their boots as he walks toward the wagon.


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## The Shaman (Apr 24, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Meanwhile, back at the camp...

After seeing to Lightning – cooling the cowpony down, brushing out the burrs from his fur, checking his hoofs for stones, and watering and feeding both Lightning and Thunder before picketing them for the night – Dakota returns to where D’Artois waits. Nodding to the gambler, Dakota removes a piece of jerky and a biscuit from his stores, and stretches out on his bedroll, leaning back against his saddle. Handle Animal: 30.

“Any sign o’ the others?” he asks.


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## Bobitron (Apr 25, 2005)

Bear Trap and Riley start the ride back to camp without incident. As they start to the south, they can see Buckley riding up towards the horses with a few of his hands. Buckley gives them a wave as he notices the riders, but then continues on towards the remnants of the herd. It takes about a half hour to get back to D'Artois and Dakota, who are both relaxing near a campfire that casts a warm glow into the night air.

Marshal Colburn & Michael Sun-Hand-High: The prisoners remove their boots as asked, fear evident in the eyes of the rustlers as you calmly cover them with your pistol. Michael watches you in silence after finding nothing of interest in the wagon.


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## знаток (Apr 25, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Michael and GM:  The calm after the storm of lead and cattle-panic is entirely external.  Colburn knows right from wrong, but he also understands the necessity of good relations with those whose mutual trust he requires.  He doesn't trust Buckley to punish the men honorably, either, and so decides to forfeit the rest he had hoped to get.  Frustrated at himself for expecting the easy way out to suffice, he makes a silent promise to himself to avoid the slack in the future.  

_"Michael, get the men on their feet.  Let's find some trees."_

In a couple short hours - hands blistering from the tying of too many knots and ears weary from the cries of the men - he and Michael head back to camp.  

The Marshal quietly settles in (assuming the party is asleep) far from the glowing embers of the fire for the few remaining hours before daylight.


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## hobbit_killer (Apr 26, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap is silent most of the ride back to camp but about halfway back his voice cuts the darkness, "Ya know Riley, its a hell of a thing killn' a man.  Ya take all he's got and all he's ever gonna have."

Upon returning to camp he nods a greeting to the others and sees to his horse and mule.  Mule even seems to be shocked at his lack of cussing at her when he discovers that she had been chewing on the lead rope again.  When finished, he unfurls his bedroll and pulls a bottle of whiskey out of his saddlebag.  After a long pull that would put most men out, he belches, climbs into his bedroll and promptly goes to sleep.


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## Committed Hero (Apr 27, 2005)

*Michael Sun-Hand-High*

_It is harsh punishment for what these men did, but I have seen worse, both by my own people and by the chiefs of white lands.  Certainly, the men we caught were willing to treat us as badly without worry on their faces.  But I suspect there is less distance between those rustlers and several of the men riding with us than the Marshall realizes.  He would do well to remember this._


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## Bobitron (Apr 30, 2005)

It is a cold morning when you awaken, later than usual after last night’s exertion. The short and violent combat took more out of you than expected. D’Artois is already up, and has the fire going at roaring levels. Its warmth gives some comfort, but it can’t chase away the awkward glances that pass between you all as you get up.

You will have to take it easy on the horses today. The run through the dark last evening was rough on them after a long day of riding. The Marshal’s map reveals the plan was to reach Vinters, a small town 15 miles west of Sacramento, by sundown, but that doesn’t seem possible now.

“Another night under the stars,” the Marshal comments aloud to no one in particular as he tucks the map into its case. He lets out a deep breath as he turns to the group. “Finish up your Arbuckle’s and we’re off.”

“Michael, I want you up ahead today. The bridge at Clementine Crossing is washed away by now, for certain. Go on and scout us up a good place to cross. Take D’Artois with you, if ya like. He’s got a sharp eye.”


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## Committed Hero (May 1, 2005)

I'll ride out first thing, if D'Artois is ready.


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## Max (May 1, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley is up and ready to go with the sun.  He makes sure all of his weapons are fully loaded again, including his spare ammo tubes for the Spencer.  Other than that, he simply drinks a few cups of coffee and waits until it is time to hit the trail.


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## Bobitron (May 3, 2005)

A mostly shameless bump.


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## The Shaman (May 3, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota wakes up to Lucky licking his face in the dim glow just before dawn. The cowhand knocks out his boots before he pulls them on, then sets about checking on the horses before returning to the campfire. He listens to the marshal without comment, responding to the others with a brief nod as he sips his coffee and checks his lariat for burrs or fraying. Coiling the lasso, he next reloads his Winchester and checks his pistol. Finally, he slips a lead rope over Lightning, saddles Thunder, and plays fetch with Lucky until the rest of the posse is ready to ride.


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## hobbit_killer (May 3, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap pulls himself out of his bedroll and looks at the empty bottle laying next to him ruefully.  He tends to Mule and Horse before shambling over to the cook fire. "Hard tac and beans.....and for dinner?  Let me guess, beans and hard tac."


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## знаток (May 4, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn is all business in the morning.  All instructions are short and to the point, but still stern and confident.  After a quick shave, he gives his rifle a run-through while waiting for the others.  "Let's get a move on, gentlemen," he says with no absence of respect, "and pray we don't run into any other delays."


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## Committed Hero (May 4, 2005)

If it's time, I'll go upstream with D'Artois and look for a fordable spot.


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## Bobitron (May 4, 2005)

ooc: I think I'll give syn until the weekend to post, then NPC D'Artois until he shows up.


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## Bobitron (May 20, 2005)

The morning sun bright overhead, Michael and D’Artois ride off together to find a suitable crossing place. It isn’t hard to spot one, and they return an hour. 

Keeping the horses at a slow pace to compensate for the late-night run last evening, you make slow progress up the trail north. The uncomfortable silence still lingers in the air, and nobody seems willing to break it yet. 

After a short stop by a muddy stream for water and lunch, the posse moves along. Up ahead in the burning sun of mid-afternoon a hill rises, made up of broken rock and large boulders. Sparse vegetation covers the western face, but the eastern side where the road runs appears to have been sheared clean by a landslide recently.

As you approach the hill, the Marshal raise his hand in warning, his sharp eyes picking out a detail you have so far missed. Pointing towards the trail ahead, he says “There’s a wagon, half-buried in the debris from the slide. Let’s check it out, gentlemen.” 

Shading your eyes from the sun, you see that a wagon indeed sits smashed within the stone and dirt. Dust rises from nearby, and you can see a couple figures moving around it, lifting something from the demolished bed.


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## Committed Hero (May 20, 2005)

*Great to be Back*

Can we help?  Does it look like there are people injured?


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## The Shaman (May 20, 2005)

_I don’t like the looks of this_, Dakota thinks. As the others watch the wagon, the wrangler’s eyes probe the hillsides. Spot 18 (take 10).


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## hobbit_killer (May 20, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap lifts his hand to his brow in an attempt to shield his eyes from sun.  He squints and spits out moutful of tobacco juice.  "Best we be figurn' out what them boys be liftin' out of that wagon before we go down and introduce ourselves."

Spot 16 (Take 10) unless its a bear then its 18 =)


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## знаток (May 21, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn nears the wagon slowly and cautiously, giving the group a chance to get a better grasp of the situation as they approach.  It's seems obvious that there's no sense of urgency around the wagon, so he decides it's better to be safe and observe for a few moments.  He keeps a sharp eye out for any changes in behavior as a result of their presence, once it becomes known.


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## The Shaman (May 22, 2005)

_Marshal’s a brave man,_ thinks Dakota as the lawman leads the posse toward the wagon. He glances over at the Indian, then resumes looking up the hill. _Seems a waste of a good scout to ride headlong into everything, though._


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## Max (May 23, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Looking around at his companions, Riley can see Dakota and the mountain man looking hard at the hillside.  He figures that should be good enough, so he concentrates on the people at the wagon.  He slips the thong off of the hammer of his pistol, so its ready for action just in case.

OOC:  I'm traveling Monday, Wednesday and Thursday this week.  I'll do my best to keep up, but don't worry about waiting for me if you're ready to move on.  Bobitron, feel free to roll for Riley if you need to keep the game moving.


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## Bobitron (May 24, 2005)

As you all approach the accident, the details become clearer. The wagoneers were obviously caught by surprise by the rockslide. It swept over them with small boulders the size of a child’s head making up the majority of the debris. Three men stand over the wagon and are unloading what appears to be some very heavy crates from the smashed remains of the cart. It is back-breaking work, and they labor in the hot sun with some difficulty. You spot one man lying on the ground, a blanket draped over him for shade. Another stands about twenty feet to the right, standing in a hole that he is currently digging away in with a pick and shovel. It looks to be about 2-3 feet deep at this point. 

When you get closer, they spot you. Stopping the work, they converse hurriedly amongst each other. One of them struggles to pull a tarp over the crates before you can see any additional details, and just manages.

“Howdy!” One of the men calls out, cupping his hand to his mouth. Each of the men seems to carry arms, but none move in a threatening manner.


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## Committed Hero (May 24, 2005)

"Marshall, I would look to the wounded if you have no quarrel with these men."


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## Max (May 24, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley notes the attempt at concealing the boxes with sigh.  He honestly doesn't care what is in them, but obviously these men are worried about it... and worried men sometimes make mistakes.  Riley keeps his mouth shut and his eyes open.  The reins are in his left hand, while his right hand rests casually on his thigh, near his pistol, just in case one of these guys decides keeping the boxes a secret is a shooting matter.


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## Bobitron (May 24, 2005)

D’Artois dismounts, his fine boots crunching in the gravel at the very edge of the rockslide. “You gentlemen need assistance? Anyone hurt? Our Indian is a fine healer.” 

The man who called out steps forward a few steps. “Well… sure, I ‘spose we could use a helpin’ hand. Let me bring him over to you, though. These rocks are mighty treacherous.”

Turning to the others, he whispers a few commands and the other two men near the wagon start gathering up the man on the ground. The digging man keeps up his work, but when he glances over and sees you watching, he lays down the shovel and tries to act unconcerned. He is obviously nervous.


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## знаток (May 25, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

The Marshal doesn't miss the air of anxiety among the men at the wagon.  "Bear Trap, Dakota," he calls quietly to the men. "If you wouldn't mind, could you keep a distant eye on my back from here?  I'm gonna converse with this fella for a bit and see if I can't shake his sleeves out.  Riley and Maverick, I'd be a little more comfortable here if you'll spread out a little and keep a cool flank on me...and try and get a better look at what's goin' on around the wagon." 

He approaches the speaker as he works to bring the apparently injured man out of the rubble.  "Marshal Colburn," he introduces himself with a nod and tip of the gray Stetson.  "So what's the story here, my man?  Headed south?" 

Sense Motive: 17


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## Bobitron (May 25, 2005)

ooc: I'll wait for a few more posts before replying.


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## Committed Hero (May 25, 2005)

Michael will wait for them to come closer.


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## The Shaman (May 25, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

"Bear Trap, Dakota," Marshal Colburn calls quietly to the men. "If you wouldn't mind, could you keep a distant eye on my back from here?  I'm gonna converse with this fella for a bit and see if I can't shake his sleeves out.

Dakota nods, still keeping a wary eye on the slope. “Sure thing, Marshal. Might be a good idea to make it quick, in case more rocks start comin’ down,” the wrangler replies softly, glancing about. “May want to find out what happened to their team, too.”

The cowhand lets Thunder drift a bit until he reaches a position where he can see the men without risk of shooting the marshal in a fracas.


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## hobbit_killer (May 26, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap acknowledges the Marshal with a nod and appears to fuss about with Horse and Mule, cursing them the entire time.  In doing so he loosens Ellie in her scabbard.

"Dam you you stupid Mule!  Hold still these boys might be needn' you to pull em' out of this fix!"

OOC:  Just a reminder that Horse is a draft horse as well and could probably pull that wagon out with Mule's help.  I am not speaking but your chracters would know it and it may have an effect on what you say.


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## Max (May 26, 2005)

Riley slides out of the saddle, and stretches like he's been riding for a while (which he has) and needs to get the blood flowing again (which he does).  Keeping the reins in his left hand, he wanders closer to the wagon however he does not go right up to it.  Rather he keeps an eye on the strangers to see their reactions to his approach.  As he approaches the wagon, he will wander to the side a bit so he has a slight flanking position, and isn't blocking anyone's line of fire.


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## Bobitron (May 27, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> He approaches the speaker as he works to bring the apparently injured man out of the rubble.  "Marshal Colburn," he introduces himself with a nod and tip of the gray Stetson.  "So what's the story here, my man?  Headed south?"




As you all move into position, the Marshal strides up to meet the men, Michael at his side. The men carrying the injured man react with obvious shock when Colburn introduces himself, shocked to see the glint of a tin star in this desolate location.

"A lawman?!? Ahhh! Umm... glad to meet you, errr... Marshal." The two of them start sweating hard, both glancing over their shoulders at the man who initially greeted you, still standing back about ten feet or so.

He steps up and extends a hand. "Pleased to meetcha, Marshal. I'm Deke. We are headed south. Our horse managed to break clear of his harness when the slide started, but these damn rocks slammed us somethin' fierce. No need to be worried, boys!" He tries to bolster up the two men. They drop the wounded man to the ground before the lawman and the Indian, where he settles with a moan. Deke covers his head with a blanket to keep him out of the bright sun.

ooc: He doesn't seem to be lying, but only a fool would think he's not hiding something, trying to cover up for the awful suspicious reactions of his colleauges.


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## The Shaman (Jun 2, 2005)

The wrangler rests comfortably in the saddle, palms resting on the pommel, reins held loosely in his hands. _Don’t give them boys reason to fret_, he thinks, _but don’t take your eye of ‘em, neither_. Dakota watches the men hovering in the background, ready to reach for his Winchester if he sees sign of hostile intent. Spot 18 (take 10).

In the back of his mind is the unstable slope. _And don’t dawdle, marshal_.


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## знаток (Jun 7, 2005)

"Let's take a look at what you got yourself into, then.  I imagine we can afford to lend a few hands or hooves.  Michael, you see to the injured man," he says, hoping that if the man has a story he wants to tell, Michael can massage it out of him.  He glances to Riley and Dakota to see if there's anything of interest they've spotted at the wagon.  

Spot check: 26


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## Committed Hero (Jun 7, 2005)

"I can take a look at those injuries," he offers, with a special emphasis on how thay might have happened.

Roll = 27 http://invisiblecastle.com/find.py?id=100797


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## Bobitron (Jun 13, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> "Let's take a look at what you got yourself into, then.  I imagine we can afford to lend a few hands or hooves.  Michael, you see to the injured man,"




“We’re much obliged, Marshal.” Deke casts a concerned look at the wounded man as the Indian moves to check his wounds. “Richey, Jones. Get back to the wagon and start workin’ on those rocks.” Deke quickly looks back at the Marshal with a grin after those words. “Now that we don’t need help with, sir.” The two men walk back to the wagon and get back to work, but seem too distracted by your presenceto get much done.



			
				Committed Hero said:
			
		

> "I can take a look at those injuries," he offers, with a special emphasis on how they might have happened.




The man winces as Michael leans over his form and pulls back the blanket, they light of the sun shining bright in his face. He looks like a full-blooded Mexican, and he lets out a quiet groan as the native looks him over. It appears he has a few broken ribs, and one may have punctured a lung. Frothy blood seeps from a small wound on his chest where a tiny sliver of sharp bone can be seen. His right leg is broken in at least 2 places, and the man’s left arm is limp and badly bruised. Michael does what he can to help the man, but it doesn’t look like he will last long out here on the road. The wounds all look like those of a man crushed by rocks after being thrown from horse or wagon.

“Maldición del dios, él lastima.”

Dakota: From your vantage point, you notice a corner of the tarpaulin fly up in the wind. The two men working nearby quickly pull down the flap and glance around furtively. In the split second the crate was exposed, you see the instantly recognizable stamp of the US Army on the end.

Edit: Small adjustment to the description.


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## The Shaman (Jun 13, 2005)

Dakota notes the contents of the wagon. With a smile, he calls out, friendly as he can muster, “Rough break! Say, what business you boys in?” Diplomacy 13, Sense Motive 1...ugh.


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## Max (Jun 13, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley continues to concentrate on the men at the wagons.  Although he doesn't know why Dakota is asking questions, he is sure it will make the men even more nervous.  This might lead to one of them making a mistake and reaching for a gun, which mostly likely will mean they will die of natural causes ... since a bullet through your heart will naturally cause you to become dead.

Spot check 10+6=16 if necessary


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## Bobitron (Jun 13, 2005)

The Shaman said:
			
		

> Dakota notes the contents of the wagon. With a smile, he calls out, friendly as he can muster, “Rough break! Say, what business you boys in?”




One of the men at the wagon opens his mouth as though to speak, but the other kicks him softly on the shin to distract him. Deke glances over the working Indian at Dakota, but says nothing.


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## Committed Hero (Jun 16, 2005)

He is beyond my skills to save him.  The best we may do is ease his pain until the final moments.

Does it look like he can understand?  Is he armed?


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## знаток (Jun 16, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn quickly grows impatient with the side-stepping traveler.  He brushes back the gun side of his coat to reveal his shining sidearm.  
"Alright, man.  Come clean with this.  I don't want anyone to get hurt, but I ain't gonna brush it off, and I ain't looking forward to wastin' any more of my time or that of my men with this drawn out malarkey.  What's in that wagon that you're so skittish about, and is it yours to hide?"  He glances to Dakota and Riley to see that they notice his escalated posture.  
"And don't try pullin' nothin' on me 'cause I'm gonna see it with my own eyes before I leave here."


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## Max (Jun 16, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley smiles slightly as the Marshal decides to push the issue.  This pussy-footing around was getting old for the gunfigher as well.  "What ever you got there ain't worth dyin for.  Yer out gunned and out classed, so don't do nothin stupid," he suggests in an off-hand manner.  

It's pretty clear from his almost bored tone of voice that he isn't worried about these guys.  Confidence has always been the best weapon of the gunfighter.  Of course, his hand is almost resting on his gun, in case these yahoo's don't take his warning.


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## The Shaman (Jun 16, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota rests his hands on the pommel of his saddle. “I’d listen to these sweethearts if I was you, boys,” he says cheerfully.


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## Committed Hero (Jun 16, 2005)

Michael is crouched by the wounded man, looking for a reaction from his compatriots.


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## hobbit_killer (Jun 16, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"All right there men, my head hurts from all this talkn' out the sides o' your mouths.  The marshal want's to know your business and I'm tired of waiting."

With that, the big man loops the reins of Mule and Horse over Dakota's saddlehorn and strides over to the half buried cart.  On the way over he rolls his shoulders a few times and crack's his knuckles finishing up with a quick shadow jab and uppercut.

"I ain't one to be tussled with boys, so step aside and lets see what you got here."


Intimidate: 14+4=18, I also want to ready an action as I am walking over there to smack somebody hard if they make a threatening move.  Also, one of us has to be able to speak Spanish I would think, it probably isn't me even though I should have 2 extra languages (I didn't specify in the character write up) with an int of 14. My two extra languages would be whatever Indian tribes I am used to dealing with in the mountains, probably Sioux and another common one, maybe Crow.


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## Bobitron (Jun 18, 2005)

As Bear Trap walks towards the wagon, your trained eyes pick up the tell-tale motion of a draw as Deke goes for the pistol at his belt.

ooc: Please roll initiative, evryone. Deke's got some skill with iron, and he will fire on 23.

In terms of positions, the Marshal is about ten feet from where the Mexican, Michael, and Deke are standing. Bear Trap is walking past Deke's left shoulder. The wagon is a good 50 feet further on. The two men near the wagon are still working at the rubble, and the man who was digging off to the side is now leaning on the handle of the shovel and watching events unfold.

D'Artois, Dakota, and Riley are 30 feet back from the Marshal, all with a clear view of the scene.


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## The Shaman (Jun 18, 2005)

_Dern fool,_ Dakota thinks as he fumbles with the Thunderer in its holster.

Initiative: 5. Once he finally manages to get his pistol drawn, Dakota covers the two boys by the wagon with his pistol (ready action), leaving the heavy lifting to Riley and the Marshal.


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## Max (Jun 18, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

As Deke starts his draw, Riley's hand flashes down for his pistol with blistering speed.  The custom Thunderer leaps out of the holster and starts spouting flame!

ooc:  Initiative role is a blazing 17+12=29.  Is this a fast draw round?  If so, Riley shoots at Deke using his double tap feat.  Attack role is 11-2 (double-tap) -2 (range) +12=19.  Apparantly, Riley was more worried about getting his gun out quickly then he was about accuracy.  Darn quick-draw artist.     If that hits (hopefully Deke is flatfooted!) then damage is 3d6=14.  Riley has precise shot, so no -4 to hit due to Deke being next to people, if that is an issue.


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## Committed Hero (Jun 18, 2005)

http://www14.brinkster.com/nadaka/DiceBoxDB.asp?Page=Find&By=Number&Value=8393

That's a 14 for Michael​


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## hobbit_killer (Jun 20, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

OOC:  Is this a threatening enough move for Bear Trap's readied action to go off?  Can I even do a readied action in this situation?  Either way, my initiative is 8+2=*10*.  On my turn if I don't have a bullet in my by that point, I am going to power attack 5 and punch Deke in the face 13+11-5=*19* which will provoke and attack of oppurtunity if he can take one. Damage is 7+3+2+3+5=*20*


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## знаток (Jun 20, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn sees the man go for his pistol, but underestimates his speed.  Not quite prepared for a fight against such odds as he and his men present, he fumbles somewhat with his own Colt as his balance on the horse waivers slightly.  

Initiative: 19


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## Bobitron (Jun 22, 2005)

Deke's move catches everyone off guard.. except Riley. His Thunderer practically leaps from its leather with a flash, and the gun's loud report sounds before any of you can even reach for a weapon. The heavy .41 caliber bullet hits Deke high on his gun arm, and he drops the pistol that has started to emerge from its holster where it clatters on the stones. Bear Trap spins with fury in his eyes and smashes his meaty fist into the man's face, where it crushes his nose with a sickening thud. Deke falls back onto the rubble and rolls over onto his side, curling his legs up to meet his chest.

The Marshal's sidearm is out before any of the other men can even consider drawing, and he levels the gun at them with a flat stare. Michael, still crouched near the Mexican, readies himself for action, cautiously watching the wounded man and the others for movement.

The three other men have their arms raised high before Dakota can manage to get his pistol out.

ooc: I ruled that Bear Trap was a bit beyond Deke at the point where he drew, so it took Riley's action to spark off his readied attack.


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## знаток (Jun 22, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

"Wise move boys!  Now let's try all this again.  Y'all step up here away from that wagon, and keep those hands up."  
"Way to stay on top Mr. McLean.  And to you Mr. Williams, if I may use the word _fine_ to describe such brute force..."  He glances again at the fetally positioned Deke, "...er, maybe I'll stick to callin' you Bear Trap." 
With a wink to Bear Trap, he dismounts and starts toward the wagon.  "D'Artois, would you give me a hand checkin' this out?"


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## Bobitron (Jun 22, 2005)

"You bet, Marshal."  

D'Artois dismounts and follows Colburn toward the shattered wagon. The men make no moves as you approach the tarp.


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## The Shaman (Jun 22, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

“Careful there, boys,” calls out Dakota. “Whatever’s in there is stamped U.S. Army on the side.”


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## Max (Jun 23, 2005)

*Riley McClean*



			
				The Shaman said:
			
		

> “Careful there, boys,” calls out Dakota. “Whatever’s in there is stamped U.S. Army on the side.”




"US Army, is it?  So Dakota, I take it you're guessing they aren't blankets?" Riley says with a grin.  He moves forward so that all the teamsters/smugglers are within point blank range, just in case anyone else tries something stupid.

"So, is he still alive?" he asks, nodding in Deke's direction.


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## hobbit_killer (Jun 23, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap shakes his hand out and rubs his knuckles.

"He ain't dead unless he bleeds out from that gunshot, more work for Michael, I'm afraid.  Mighty fine shootn' there Riley. Glad you had my back.  

The big man turns to the Marshal with a wry grin, "Bear Trap be just fine, Marshal.  I keep forgettin' soem boys are a little more fragile then a griz. Now then, it sure'd be ashame if I had to knock some sense into the rest of these here boys, now wouldn't it."

OOC:  Cool on the ruling, makes sense.  Bear Trap may hit hard but he still only does non-lethal.


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## знаток (Jun 23, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

"I won't tell you boys again.  I suggest you get up there in the road, keep your hands in the air, and do your best not to give Bear Trap there an excuse to hone his brawlin' skills any more."   The Marshal keeps a cold eye on the men, pistol aimed at the group.  "Oh, and keep your mouths shut as well, at least until I've got something in particular I want to ask you." 

Colburn will wait for the men to step away from the wagon before inspecting any closer.


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## Bobitron (Jun 25, 2005)

Deke rolls about a bit in response to Riley's inquiry, moaning as he fingers his smashed nose and his upper arm.

The three men standing near the wagon each back away at the Marshal's command, giving you a clear path. Picking his way carefully through the rubble, Colburn reaches the tarp and pulls it back with D'Artois' help. Five large crates bearing the stenciled markings of the US Army lie. They do not look to have been damaged by the tumble from the wagon. D'Artois reaches into the wagon and pulls out a large hammer with a claw. He makes short work of the crate's many nails, and opens it to reveal a row of shiny new Winchester lever-action rifles.

Letting out a low whistle, D'Artois stands back from the discovery, pushing his hat back on his head. "Well, lookie here, Marshal. I do declare, these don't seem the sort of gentlemen that should be escortin' a bunch of rifles for the great Army of the U.S. of A."


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## The Shaman (Jun 30, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

_Wonder where them boys were headed with those_, thinks Dakota. _Hopefully not Deepwood_.

The wrangler keeps a close eye on the men with their arms raised, the Colt heavy in his hand.


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## знаток (Jul 7, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn looks over the contents of the wagon once more before making his way over the rocks back up to the prisoners on the road.  He paces around them only for a few moments.  Watching them sweat, he gets the sense that this wasn't their typical business, and they definitely weren't used to being in the amount of trouble they were about to experience.  
“Mr. D’Artois!  Mr. Turnbow!”  The Marshal backs away from the group and waits for the two men to meet him, eyeing the kneeling prisoners and tapping his fingers on the hard leather of his gun belt.   “We got lucky here fellas.  The town of Willow is pretty close right up this road.  I need someone to ride up n’ get the sheriff there to round up his posse and a wagon for this rabble.  It oughtta be less than a half-hour ride.  Just tell him how much we’ve got – men and rifles – and that I’m here waiting with ‘em.  He should already be aware that we’re comin’ through, and if I know the man he won’t waste any time.  You two can either ride back here with him or stay in town to catch some rest.  I don’t plan on sticking around once he arrives, and we won't be stoppin' in Willow when we come through either.  Sound good?”


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## hobbit_killer (Jul 7, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"If ya boys don't mind, I am runnin' low on whiskey and woul be much obliged if you picked me up some."


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## Max (Jul 7, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Making sure that someone else has the gun runners (?) covered, Riley punches out the two empty shell casings from his pistol, and reloads.

"You gonna try and find out where these boys were going with the guns, Marshal?" Riley asks.  "Or are you just figuring on letting the local law handle it?"


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## The Shaman (Jul 8, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

“Sure thing, marshal,” Dakota replies, glad to be riding again instead of waiting in the shadow of the tumbled hillside. He tips his hat to Bear Trap with a smile.

After D’Artois mounts his horse, Dakota and Thunder set a brisk pace for Willow, Lightning and Lucky in tow. On arriving in town, the wrangler hails a stranger and after the sheriff. Dakota looks about the burg, getting a feel for its character as he listens to the directions. Diplomacy 15, Spot 18 (take 10).


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## Bobitron (Jul 13, 2005)

Marshal Colburn considers Riley’s question for a short moment and responds with a shake of his head. “We’ll leave this up to the locals, Mr. McClean. Sheriff Rodgers is a straight man. He’ll get it sorted.”

Dakota and D’Artois ride swiftly north to Willow, a mid-sized town with little to set it apart from the others that seem to be popping up all across California as more and more Easterners arrive.  A passerby points out the Sheriff’s office, and you quickly explain the story to the grim-faced lawman. “I’ll be happy to take over, boys. Sounds like you and the Marshal were at the right place at the right time. I’m much obliged.”

He rushes out to gather up a couple deputies and a wagon for transporting the prisoners and arms back to Willow. While he is out, you take a moment to relax and stop in the General Store to purchase Bear Trap’s libation. 

D’Artois pulls Dakota aside as the shopkeeper heads into the storeroom for a bottle of his finest whiskey. Uncharacteristically nervous, he smiles and takes off his hat. 

“I been thinking about this trip, and I’ve decided it just doesn’t suit me. I’d appreciate if you could give the Marshal back his advance for me, and give him my apologies. There’s a coach here that can take me back to San Francisco, and I think I’ll take it. No hard feelings, right, Dakota?”

The gambler places his wide hat back onto his head and tips it at the cowpoke in a silent farewell. He tosses the remnants of the Marshal’s advance into Dakota’s waiting hand and makes his way out of the establishment, whistling an upbeat tune.

The Sheriff readies his group quickly enough, and you arrive back at the site of the landslide in short time. Deke and his boys barely speak as they are bound and placed in the wagon alongside the rifles. The Sheriff’s deputies take the cargo back to Willow. The Marshal speaks to Sheriff Rodgers for a few minutes to clarify the details, and the Sheriff heads off, waving his thanks at the travelers.

“Time to get moving.” Colburn gathers up the men and gets back into the saddle.

The days after the incident near Willow are uneventful, with the only change being the surroundings. As you head north, the air temperature drops as quickly as the elevation rises. The nights start getting very cold by the time you reach the two week mark in your journey, near the small town of Gibson in the north of Shasta County. The sky has threatened snow for a couple days straight now, and you see the rugged peak of Mount Shasta rising up in the distance in the few moments where the sky clears.

ooc: Everyone should take this opportunity to look over their character sheets and make sure you have everything you need for the trip into the mountains. Gibson is the last lick of civilization until you reach Deepwood, another three days of slow riding through treacherous terrain and foul weather to the base of Mount Shasta.


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## Bobitron (Jul 15, 2005)

ooc: A gentle bump. I don't think an email was sent out to those who subscribed to the thread for some reason.


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## The Shaman (Jul 15, 2005)

One evening, as the posse huddles around the campfire to stave off the chill in the night air, Dakota speaks up. “Marshal, I understand we’re getting close to Deepwood. I’ve held my peace ‘til now, but I reckon it’s time you tell us all a bit more about the goings-on that brings you and this posse out here.”


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## знаток (Jul 25, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

The men engaged in their nightly upkeep and banter, the Marshal being polite and quiet, but still relatively impersonal.  He was finishing a stew cooked with one of Bear Trap’s fine catches when Dakota asked him the question.  

“I wondered when someone would bring it up,” he says.  He taps his spoon on the tin bowl to get everyone’s attention.  “Y’all give me a minute to get catch you up on our mission.”  He waits for the men to settle in before starting, concerned a little about their reaction but relieved at once to relieve their curiosity.  

“About a week before you received my letter I got the following report from the Marshal Service.  Deepwood and Gibson have always had a fairly regular trading relationship.  Mostly it’s just individual citizens coming down from Deepwood.  About a month ago, people stopped coming.  Sheriff Beaudoin of Gibson - the closest town with any significant law - was especially concerned.  There’s a real sharp fella’s been riding throughout the West moving into towns and taking advantage of the townfolk through their businesses before leaving them high and dry.  Only a few weeks earlier, a suspicious man passed through headed for Deepwood, and some in Gibson thought this might be the same.  I reckon you could classify this particular fella as a suspect rather’n a wanted man, only because the culprit changes his name often and there’s no hard evidence against him.  The Sheriff sent a couple of deputies to investigate.  They weren’t to dig too deep, but just to check in on the town, gather what information they could, ensure order was in place, and report back to the Sheriff." Colburn pauses and looks about at the men's faces to make sure there are no questions, then continues.

"He waited a week for their return - three days past the expected date – before sending out a small search party composed of himself, his remaining deputy, and two retired lawmen that still lived locally. They had barely left for Deepwood when they encountered one of the missing deputies on the road.  He was severely wounded, terrified, and quietly insane, unable to speak in full sentences or with any sense at all. All the Sheriff could gather was that the other deputy had been slaughtered, and that the surviving one had witnessed it.  The man’s description of the attacker was very unclear…and very disturbing. He claimed that his colleague had been torn to pieces by some sort of beast. He seemed particularly confused, as he repeatedly called the beast by the name of the man he went in part to investigate. Perplexed and without a worthy force with which to approach the town, the Sheriff returned to Gibson with the injured deputy and sent a telegram to the Marshal Service for help in Deepwood. When the Marshal's Office heard, they ordered all local law to stand down from the situation until more proper authorities could arrive.  Sheriff Beaudoin was infuriated, but the townspeople weren’t keen on rallying and taking it into their own hands, and he sure wasn’t going it alone."

"You might be askin’ yourselves, ‘what makes us the proper authority?’  Well…I do. The details of this case are a particular specialty of mine, and you’ll have to trust my judgment in choosing you to ride along. I have a talent for and experience with the unexplainable, and this case bears the hallmarks of something that could use my attention.”


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## The Shaman (Jul 25, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota listens intently, the cup of coffee in his hands forgotten. The night beyond the campfire seems a little darker to the wrangler. “The unexplainable, marshal? Sounds like a cougar or a wolf, starvin’ maybe. I reckon Bear Trap here’d make short work of a varmint like that.” He looks at the lawman closely before he continues. “But I’m guessin’ you have another idea.” The unspoken question hangs in the chill air between the men.

“I once heard an old French trapper up on the Little Missouri talkin’ about somethin’ he called a _loup-garou_,” Dakota continues before the marshal can answer. “Near as I could understand him, it was some kinda man-wolf. Sounded like a tall tale to me. At the time.” The cowhand waits for the marshal to continue. Knowledge (popular culture) 15.


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## знаток (Jul 25, 2005)

Colburn stays seated to make clear that he's nothing to hide, though he starts to rinsing his tin from his canteen.  "Well," he says, pushing the word out with just enough air to make one think they might've heard a chuckle.  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves.  All we have now is a missing deputy who may or may not have taken the big jump, and the account of a loco one.  We can see for ourselves when we arrive.  As far as tall tales go, most turn out to be either just that or fully with explanation."   He looks up from the tin at Dakota, then glances to each of the others for any more comments, concerns, or questions.


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## Max (Jul 25, 2005)

*Riley McClean*



			
				знаток said:
			
		

> "You might be askin’ yourselves, ‘what makes us the proper authority?’  Well…I do. The details of this case are a particular specialty of mine, and you’ll have to trust my judgment in choosing you to ride along. I have a talent for and experience with the unexplainable, and this case bears the hallmarks of something that could use my attention.”




Riley listens carefully to the Marshal, since know we're finally learning something of the job.  Shifting to a more comfortable position, Riley unconsciously adjusts his gunbelt to keep the pistols easy to hand.  

"Well Marshal, you say this case has your attention.  What got your attention?  If you'all is used to dealing with the unexplainable, what makes you think this is one of those cases?  After all, that deputy might have just gotten himself eaten by a rabid bear.  

Now, if we are up against some weird wolf-man or something, then I have just one more question -- if I shoot it, will it die?"


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## Committed Hero (Jul 25, 2005)

Max said:
			
		

> Now, if we are up against some weird wolf-man or something, then I have just one more question -- if I shoot it, will it die?"




"Not all of the bad spirits in the high country can be killed.  Ask yourself why two lawman couldn't handle a solitary animal."

[If I can add some other Injun flavor with the proper roll, so much the better]


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## hobbit_killer (Jul 26, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

The big man snorts, " I been huntn' griz for a while now.  And I'll be the first to tell ya, they can be wiley critters--specially if they get a taste of man flesh or you git between a mama and her cub.  Seen a big sow  griz wipe out an enitire settlment cause some fool caught her cub in a leg trap then let his dogs play with it.  Still, this don't sound like that, not one bit.  Ya spend as much time in the mountains as I do, ya here some strange stuff.  Indians wearingthe skins of beats and becomign beats themselves and such.  Used to think they just smoked too much of that pey-o-te.  Now I ain't so sure."


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## Committed Hero (Jul 28, 2005)

"The Chumash have a legend about a wicked man who sought revenge on his enemies, but was too cowardly to confront them in battle. He sought the aid of wolf spirits, but Coyote saw the evil in this man's heart and changed him into a wolf. Now all of mankind knows the cowardly ways of that beast, how he will only attack the weakened or sick, or if he feels he has some advantage over his quarry. 

Still, the man's rage was so powerful that he remembered his thirst for vengeance, and kept the knowledge of his tribe's ways, even in wolf form. It is said that he was still able to think like a man, and walk on his hind legs, the better to pursue his enemies when they sought to escape him in places wolves could not go. The old mothers use this tale to frighten children who stray too far from home, but like all good stories it has a grain of truth."


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## The Shaman (Aug 2, 2005)

Dakota listens quietly to Michael. The wrangler had lived near and sometimes among Indians his whole life, and the scout’s words struck a chord. So had the gunhand’s.

“I’d like to know the answer to Riley’s question myself, marshal,” Dakota says softly, eyeing the lawman. “Maybe that deputy was _loco_ and it’s just an animal, and maybe it’s not. If it’s not, what’s your plan?”


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## знаток (Aug 3, 2005)

Max said:
			
		

> "Well Marshal, you say this case has your attention. What got your attention? If you'all is used to dealing with the unexplainable, what makes you think this is one of those cases? After all, that deputy might have just gotten himself eaten by a rabid bear.
> 
> Now, if we are up against some weird wolf-man or something, then I have just one more question -- if I shoot it, will it die?"



"Well Mr. McLean, I know about as much as you do about this particular case.  If I didn't make it clear, I apologize.  What I intended to convey is that _the Marshal Service has deemed_ that this case merits my attention.  It will require first-hand investigation to determine whether they've got their heads on straight about this.  As for the effectiveness of your bullets, if it turns out to be something unusual it will of course require unusual handling.  When we have a better idea of what it is, I'll inform you as best I can, but as Bear Trap says, animals under some circumstances can act somethin' extraordinary."  The Marshal sets the tin on a nearby rock to dry, looks at Dakota, and nods concurrence.  "We've got to keep in mind that we have no statement as to the character of this surviving deputy to begin with."  He remains seated, giving full attention to the men.  "Any more questions?"


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## Committed Hero (Aug 3, 2005)

"Will we meet the deputy who visited Deepwood?"


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## Max (Aug 4, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

"We should also talk to someone, or a couple someones, who have been to this town we're heading towards.  I'd like to hear about the trail, what the town looks like, and who some of the key people are that we should talk to when we get there."


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## The Shaman (Aug 5, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota is pensive as he suddenly rediscovers the tin cup and its now-cold contents in his hands. Pouring himself a warm cup, he takes a sip before speaking again.

“If we’re dealing with some sort of wild animal, I reckon we better keep our stock picketed together and keep a watch at night.” The wrangler takes another sip from his coffee. “The going may get a little rough here on out. I’d like to take a look at everyone’s horses in the mornin’, make sure they’re fit for the trip.”


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## hobbit_killer (Aug 8, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

I can puts my traps out if it suits ya.  Just be careful ifn' ya need to take a piss in the night.  I might just have to put a bullet in ya to quit yer howlin' if ya step in one if ya know what I mean."


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## знаток (Aug 8, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

Colburn stands.  "Good idea, Dakota.  The Service has provided me with a rough profile of both Gibson and Deepwood.  It's possible we could learn more if we run into someone in the morning, but frankly I'm not much interested in Gibson, and from the sounds of it there aren't many who go to Deepwood, so most of our learnin' will be done when we get there.  'Bout all we'll be doin' in Gibson is gettin' supplies and talkin' to the sheriff - and hopefully _el diputado loco_.  If we head out at sunrise we should be in town within an hour.  We need to be out of Gibson before noon, so we'll have to split up there.  Decide what supplies you'll need before we arrive.  Bear Trap and Michael will handle the shopping list and acquisition while Dakota sees to the horses.  Riley, you'll come with me to the sheriff's.  We'll all meet there before heading out.  At the least we can look forward to sleeping indoors for awhile after tonight, so hopefully we won’t be needin’ the traps."  At this he bends to retrieve his bedroll and readies himself for sleep.  

In the morning, everyone is stirring well before daylight, and it’s good news to all to be getting an early start.  The group heads out as the sky begins to illuminate, the sun still well below the horizon.


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## Max (Aug 9, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley agrees to the plan outlined by the Marshal.  He is indeed looking forward to sleeping in a bed again, after being on the trail for so long.  Getting all of his weapons out of the elements will give him an opportunity to give them a good cleaning, before going hunting for rabid bears or werewolves, as the case may be.


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## Bobitron (Aug 20, 2005)

ooc: First I want to clear up a detail. Gibson is the closest town to Deepwood, but they are not close by. It is a full three days to get from Gibson up through the Sierras to the valley at the foot of Mt. Shasta where Deepwood lies. Once you leave Gibson, expect no real civilization until you reach Deepwood.

You reach the town of Gibson shortly before noon. The town is a little one; a single road, still muddy from the melted snow from a recent dusting, flanked by a few ramshackle saloons and supply stores barely kept in business by the rugged men who live in these wild lands and make trips into town for gear and companionship. If it wasn’t for the recent events, all of you might have gone through your lives without ever hearing of such a backwater town. 

Your presence quickly draws Sheriff Beaudoin out of his small office, wiping his shirt clean of the crumbs of his lunch and tucking a handkerchief back into his pocket. A small, quiet-spoken man, he greets each of you with respect and warmth, then ushers you inside his office. Entering the door, you are surprised to see the smiling face of the young gambler from Louisiana. D’Artois sits in one of the Sheriff’s aged chairs, his face lighting up as you enter the room.

ooc: *insert greetings/explaination here*

Once your conversation has finished, the Sheriff pulls out an ivory pipe and leans back in his chair, savoring its pungent smoke. “I’m sure I know why you are here. I’m afraid, however that there has been a tragedy.” His face suddenly goes long and pale, as though long, sleepless nights suddenly caught up with him. “Deputy Duncan committed suicide two days past. Hung himself in the bedroom after his wife broke down. He suffered another night of bad dreams, and the lass broke down. Told him she couldn't take his crazed state. Poor woman, I dunno if she’ll ever forgive herself.”


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## Committed Hero (Aug 21, 2005)

Michael stares at the gambler with a critical eye, and possibly a hint of a smile.  D'artois, I'm surprised that you beat us here - and relieved that you aren't in irons.


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## synecdoche (Aug 21, 2005)

D'Artois smiles broadly, fingering his pistol, as if gesturing at the new notch in the barrel. 

"Why, hello there.  It seems I just couldn't stay away.  Y'see, I had some busines that needed taking care of, and I couldn't be sure I would be able to return in time for our little odyssey.  Fortunately, it seems that the dice have rolled in my favour yet again."

D'Artois leans back in the ancient chair and begins flipping a coin between his knuckles.

"The good sherriff and I were just discussing some of the laws in this territory.  Did you know that unlike our esteemed pregenitor nation, one is not required by law here to retreat from a fight?  That's what  makes this country great, friend.  No duty to retreat.  Why, a man pulls a gun on you, you can pull one right back."

D'Artois stares into the distance, chuckles softly, and then quikckly returns his gaze to his friend, as if coming out of a reverie.

"Of course, I apologize for my absence.  I do hope you'll fill me in on any transpirings that are worthy of my attention."


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## The Shaman (Aug 22, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota’s face registers his surprise at seeing the dapper gambler again. “I thought you were shut of us for good,” he says, eyeing the card-sharp but offering his hand in a warm grasp.

The wrangler listens to the sheriff’s story in stony silence, the conversation around the campfire still fresh in his mind. “Marshal, I’m guessin’ you have some work to do here,” Dakota says to Colburn. “I’d like to take the stock to the livery, make sure they’re fit for the trail ahead. Sheriff,” he says, turning to Beaudoin, “You have a stable in town where I can put up our horses, someplace with feed and water and shoeing if we need it?”


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## Max (Aug 22, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

"Welcome back, D'Artois," says Riley.



			
				synecdoche said:
			
		

> D'Artois smiles broadly, fingering his pistol, as if gesturing at the new notch in the barrel. "The good sherriff and I were just discussing some of the laws in this territory.  Did you know that unlike our esteemed pregenitor nation, one is not required by law here to retreat from a fight?  That's what  makes this country great, friend.  No duty to retreat.  Why, a man pulls a gun on you, you can pull one right back."[/COLOR]




Riley smiles at the comment.  "You know, I've found that to be true as well," says the gunfighter.  He does shake his head slightly at the notch on the barrel, but refrains from comment.

Turning back to the business at hand, Riley listens to the Marshal's accout of the dead deputy.  "Marshal, I think we should tallk to the poor lady.  I'd like to hear what kind of nightmares Duncan was having.  They may not mean anything ... then again, there may be a clue to what we're up against."


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## знаток (Aug 26, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*

As the group arrives in town, the Marshal watches the townsfolk, politely greeting those within range.  "Alright fellas, we've been pushing at a pretty good pace, so if y'all feel a night in Gibson will be worthwhile, we can consider staying...freshen up and have a drink.  If you decide so, just remember that you're here on my behalf, and in turn on the behalf of the U.S. government.  Start any trouble - or fail to avoid it finding you -  and your contracts are forfeit.  The locals will keep it low.  They know why you're here.  This time, it's all up to you guys.  Hittin' the road today'll go over fine with me too."  

He dusts his hat on his thigh as he dismounts in front of the Sheriff's office.  He greets him sans smiles, and quickly gets to business.  He greets D'Artois as dryly as he enters and notices him, though he's clearly very pleased to have the Vet back on the crew.  "I'll let the boys get you up to speed on all you missed when we're done here.  Fortune followed us, so nothing happened while you were gone that necessitated your presence.  So's long as you don't see any more distractions, you can officially assume it's good to have you back."   

He remains standing as he listens to the Sheriff, removing his stetson at mention of the Deputy.  "Sorry to hear that, Sheriff.  I suppose we can assume he's in a better place now, though it doesn't lessen the tragedy for his wife or the town."   



			
				Max said:
			
		

> "Marshal, I think we should talk to the poor lady. I'd like to hear what kind of nightmares Duncan was having."



Colburn replaces his hat.  "Right you are, Mr. McLean.  You guys know what you're to do already.  Our friendly D'Artois can speak to the widow."  He moves to stand beside Jean in the chair.  "Why don't you all get started while I sit with the Sheriff for a few.  We'll meet back here in an hour and a half, and if we're ready to go by then we'll talk about resting."
"With your permission, Sheriff, would you direct Mr. D'Artois to the widow's residence?"


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## Committed Hero (Aug 26, 2005)

Do we have a list of provisions to buy?


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## synecdoche (Aug 26, 2005)

знаток said:
			
		

> "Right you are, Mr. McLean.  You guys know what you're to do already.  Our friendly D'Artois can speak to the widow."  He moves to stand beside Jean in the chair.  "Why don't you all get started while I sit with the Sheriff for a few.  We'll meet back here in an hour and a half, and if we're ready to go by then we'll talk about resting."
> "With your permission, Sheriff, would you direct Mr. D'Artois to the widow's residence?"




D'Artois smiles and rises to his feet.  He puts his hand to his hat brim, and bows.  

"Of course, it would be my singular pleasure to see to the unfortunate.  Point me in the direction, friend Sheriff, and I shall follow."


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## hobbit_killer (Aug 26, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

"Yeah Marshal, you might want to be a tad more specific on what provisions you want.  My idea on what we need to get on in the mountains might not be what shall we say...the most comfortable for folk used to the city.  No offense to any of ya, just call em' like I see em'"


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## знаток (Aug 28, 2005)

*Marshal Colburn*



			
				hobbit_killer said:
			
		

> "Yeah Marshal, you might want to be a tad more specific on what provisions you want."



Colburn raises a brow.  "If I'm not being specific enough, you boys best let me know your concerns when the subject presents itself.  I expected you'd have a list prepared as we discussed.  Time appears to be at your disposal today, but such is a rare occasion."  He grunts and removes his hat once more to reveal an apparently uneffected head of hair beneath.   He hangs the hat on a rack near the door and replaces D'Artois in the chair.  "Your own comfort and survival's all you need to worry about.  It's a three day hike and you'll be holed up with shallow resources for up to a couple weeks.  Standard stuff, just make sure you don't come up short on somethin' while we're there.  I've got a handle on my own needs."   

OOC:
Don't y'all get offended.  This post, grunt and all, is all Colburn and no me.  Everyone's got their faults, right?  Maybe the Marshal ain't used to working with a crew.


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## Bobitron (Aug 28, 2005)

D’Artois’ visit to the widow is short, turning up little useful information. The dreams were of a wolf-like creature wearing what seemed to be an Indian talisman chasing him for hours on end, always right behind but never quite catching up. Duncan would wake just as his legs would give out in the dream, as the creature’s jaws began to close around his neck. The dream would occur every time he slept, and each time resulted in the same strangled cries that woke his wife and half the people staying in the nearby houses. She is a mess, unable to rid herself of the guilt for the words she said. By the time he returns, your trip to the general supply has gone well, and you are stocked with enough provisions, warm woolen blankets, thick canvas tents, and other winter supplies to last you for two weeks in the mountains. The Marshal decides to spring for a wagon and a couple mules to pull it to hold all the equipment rather than burden your mounts too much. “Better to be prepared than want for lantern oil on a cold night, right?” The words of the shopkeeper ring in your ears as the Marshal doles out five crisp $10 notes for the gear without regret.

The last night for a few days that you will spend in a bed goes quietly. Gibson is shockingly short by the way of entertainment, and you all get a full night’s sleep in preparation for the trip. You hit the road early the next morning, leaving Gibson under a slate grey sky that threatens to dump heavy snow on your modest caravan. 

By mid-day, you pass over Hazel Creek and reach the hills that lead up to Mount Shasta. Your pace is slowed a bit by the wagon, but the road is in good condition and no obstacles arise to keep you. The snow starts at mid-afternoon, a heavy, windless falling that is causing some serious build-up by the time you stop for the night in a protected gully. Each of you dons large, thickly-quilted coats purchased in Gibson over your normal gear while riding and setting up camp, and while cold, you manage quite nicely.  Bear Trap creates a large lean-to using a couple of canvas tarpaulins and some green branches. A roaring fire soon blazes, and after caring for the horses you settle in for a meal of beans and salted pork, reinforced with three loaves of fresh bread the Marshal reveals from his saddlebag with a grin. Sated and comfortable despite the inclement weather, Dakota sings a soft and lonesome song as you start to nod off. 

"Eyes like a morning star 
Cheeks like a rose; 
Laura was a pretty girl 
God almighty knows; 

Weep all you little rains, 
Wail, winds, wail 
All along, along along 
The Colorado trail. 

Ride, all the lonely night 
Ride through the day, 
Keep the herd a-movin' on 
Movin' on its way. 

Dark is the stormy night 
Dark is the sky, 
Wish I'd stayed in Abilene 
Nice and warm and…"

He cuts the song short suddenly as Riley’s head jerks to the east. (Listen Check DC20). As you all look, you see a hunched over figure, bundled in heavy furs, staggering toward you in the rapidly deepening snow.


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## Max (Aug 29, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley rises to his feet from where he was crouching and steps to one side to spread out and get away from the fire, his pistol automatically appearing in his hand.  He keeps the gun lowered but ready just in case.

"Howdy stranger.  You look like you could stand to warm yourself by the fire.  You alone, or do you got someone else with you?" Riley asks, while scanning the surrounding area for more surprise visitors.


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## Committed Hero (Aug 29, 2005)

Michael will scan the snow for blood - perhaps this traveller is wounded.


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## synecdoche (Aug 31, 2005)

D'Artois' hand instictively reaches for the gun at his hip, but he doesn't draw-- yet.


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## The Shaman (Aug 31, 2005)

Insuring that the horses and mules were prepared for the trip and securing fodder for the stock and extra rations for himself had filled Dakota’s time in town. The wrangler wasn’t bothered by heading out on the trail so quickly – weeks and months spent on the prairie among violent thunderstorms, swirling tornadoes, stampeding cattle, angry rattlesnakes, and jittery horses often proved safer than one night in a strange town.

It was also a relief to be busy, not to dwell on the marshal’s words around the campfire. Though he was only vaguely aware of it, the cowhand inherited many of the superstitions found among the cowboys, trappers, and scouts of the plains. Seeing to the stock was a familiar routine that helped ease his mind somewhat, and now he sits near the campfire singing as he does most nights on the trail, the story of the deputy nearly forgotten.

The song dies in his throat when Riley’s head snaps up and Dakota sees the fur-clad figure lumbering through the drifted snow. The wrangler reaches for his Winchester and chambers a shell, the **CLICK-CLACK!** of the lever audible as a snapping branch in the wintry night.


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## Bobitron (Sep 4, 2005)

Riley's confident voice cuts through the wind and snow with clarity.

"Howdy stranger. You look like you could stand to warm yourself by the fire. You alone, or do you got someone else with you?"

The shambling figure slows his pace somewhat at the noise and comes to a near stop when he hears the loud action of Dakota's Winchester. After a short pause, he continues toward the camp, raising his arms to pull back his thick hood. The strong campfire light reveals the  face of an elderly native; so wizened and wrinkled that it is almost impossible to judge his age. He seems to be weathering the stom well considering the thin frame and watery eyes that age has forced upon him. 

As he approaches, he raises a hand in greeting and speaks in a voice that bears the confidence of leadership. 

"Greetings, travelers. I am Bent Branch, shaman of the Wintu. Welcome to our lands."


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## synecdoche (Sep 4, 2005)

D'Artois relaxes ever-so-slightly, but his hand doesn't leave its comfortable place beside his hip.  

"Salut, stranger.  As far as I'm concerned, there's room for one more at our little tea party, but we live in a democratic society, so I'll have to settle to cast my vote and wait to hear the voice of the people."

D'Artois slowly lowers his hand, as if in a gesture of good faith, and lowers himself to a seat beside the fire, though he never removes his eyes from the visage of the newcomer.


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## Committed Hero (Sep 5, 2005)

Thank you for kind greeting, respected one.  It is good to know that we travel in your lands with your welcome.

Michael moves swiftly to the old man's side and assists him to the campfire's edge.  He will offer the shaman a meal; his own, if someone looks to object.


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## Max (Sep 5, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley stays back from the fire, opening room for the others to make room for the ancient Indian.  Staying on his feet, he turns his back to the fire and watches the surrounding woods.  He wants to be sure the whole group doesn't get so intersted in their guest that they forget to be aware of the surroundings.  It's a tough bunch, but even the toughest sometimes forget.  Checking the action of both pistols to make sure the cold hasn't affected them, he returns both to their holsters, adjusts his coat so he still has access to his guns, and assumes his self-appointed watch.


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## The Shaman (Sep 6, 2005)

*Dakota Turnbow*

Dakota watches the shaman carefully, then looks into the woods from whence he came. The Winchester remains ready in his hands.


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## hobbit_killer (Sep 6, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap sits quietly, the barrel or Ellie peaking out from underneath his buffalo robe.  He mumbles something unintelligible to the tune or "...damn....tenderfoot....wailin'.....gonna....kilt"

Once the old man is by the fire he speaks up "You alone there old man, or ya got some friends in the woods.  This coon got use for his scalp a wee bit more, so I'll have it plain from ya."


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## Bobitron (Sep 7, 2005)

D'Artois said:
			
		

> "Salut, stranger.  As far as I'm concerned, there's room for one more at our little tea party, but we live in a democratic society, so I'll have to settle to cast my vote and wait to hear the voice of the people."




The man waits silently for the others to speak.



			
				Michael said:
			
		

> Thank you for kind greeting, respected one.  It is good to know that we travel in your lands with your welcome.




Reaching out take Michael's hand, the man sits down and accepts his offer of warm food. "My thanks, Man-of-the-South. Your kindness speaks well of you and those who travel with you."



			
				Bear Trap said:
			
		

> Once the old man is by the fire he speaks up "You alone there old man, or ya got some friends in the woods.  This coon got use for his scalp a wee bit more, so I'll have it plain from ya."




"There is no reason to fear my presence, trapper. I am alone. The Wintu wish no harm on those who wish no harm on us. We have learned to stay out of the white man's doings and stay to ourselves." He lets out a deep sigh. 

"I come to you to speak of trouble that has come to us, not to bring you troubles."

The Marshal speaks up sharply. "You come to the right place. Seems like we do nothin' but help out the locals on this whole durn trip." The anger leaves his voice quickly, however, and he asks for the man to continue with a more tender voice. "Sorry, shaman. We just got pressin' matters to attend to in Deepwood. Go ahead and say your piece." 

The wise man's face turns to the ground for a long moment, and just as one of you is about to pipe up, thinking maybe he fell asleep, he speaks.

"I seek you because you go to Deepwood, not to sway you from your path. Three moons ago, our home was visited by one we always called Speaks with Snakes. He is a white man; a trader of trinkets, a liar and cheat at cards, a bedder of other man's wives, and a thief. We made him our guest, but he brought only untruth and poison to our people. I asked him to leave. He left in a rage, saying he would move on to Deepwood to sell his wares, but before he left he visited the tent of my youngest son. I found him in the morning, dead from the wounds Speaks with Snakes had inflicted. Falling Stream was a good son, and I don not doubt that he died the death of a brave." He speaks without regret or anger, just stating a fact. 

"I tell you this because the talisman of my tribe has been missing since Speaks with Snakes left. It is the soul of our gaurdian ancestors in form; a necklace that contains the spirit of the wolf. I fear that he will use the talisman to commit great evils upon the people of these lands."

You glance over and see the Marshal's face, and it's not a purty sight. Fire and brimstone burn behind his eyes as he speaks. "And pray tell, wise man, what is this Speaks with Snake called by the whites? What's his christian name?"

The wise man looks up at the Marshal and responds. "Clayton Masters."

Colburn lashes out with a boot, kicking his coffee off the fallen tree where it sat with a curse. "That's the man we were warned about. Sounds like he's just as willin' to take advantage of the natives as he is of the white folk."


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## Max (Sep 8, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley has been listening from his guard position away from the fire, of course.  The shaman's tale begs an obvious question.  "Exactly what kind of evil can this con artist do with your talisman, ancient one?"he asks respectfully.


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## The Shaman (Sep 10, 2005)

Standing off to one side, rifle in his hands, Dakota listens intently to the old Indian’s story. “I tell you this because the talisman of my tribe has been missing since Speaks with Snakes left. It is the soul of our guardian ancestors in form; a necklace that contains the spirit of the wolf.”

“The _loup-garou_,” he says under his breath. The wrangler moves over to where the posse’s stock are picketed, to check on the animals – Indians and wolves would both go for the horses if the opportunity arose.


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## synecdoche (Sep 10, 2005)

D'Artois suddenly turns his head toward Dakota.

"_Loup-garou_?  Now, friend, you are speaking the language of my paterfamilias.  But sir, I just can't say I'm fond of what you are saying."

D'Artois fingers the handle of his pistol nervously, and mutters to himself.

"Loup-garou, loup-garou... But that's just stories..."


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## Committed Hero (Sep 10, 2005)

We are far from a big city, in a place few white men have walked.  What makes you think you have seen everything in this world?"


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## Bobitron (Sep 14, 2005)

Max said:
			
		

> "Exactly what kind of evil can this con artist do with your talisman, ancient one?"he asks respectfully.




"The powers of the talisman are great, but it has not been used in anger in my lifetime. My father told me that one could channel the spirits within to be strong like a wolf. Fast like a wolf. Deadly like a wolf." He sighs deeply. "The talisman is the last thing we have as a tribe that ties us to the ancestors. Our lands have grown smaller with the coming of the miners. We fought the flood, but the spirits now tell me that the red man's time is coming to an end in these mountains and valleys. We just want the talisman back. It is not evil, but an evil man can do much bad medicine with it."

The aged man once again pauses for a long moment with his eyes closed. "I need sleep, as I am weary from my journey to find you. I would share your camp and fire, if you will allow it." He tilts his head respectfully to the group.

The Marshal waves a distracted agreement, then wanders off tot he edge of the fire's flickering light, pacing back and forth in thought. "I'll take the watch, gentlemen. I doubt I'll get much sleep tonight anyhow."

ooc: If we can wrap up any speculation/camp-fire talk/questions for the Marshal or shaman, I'll move things along towards Deepwood in my next post. Thanks, eveybody!


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## Committed Hero (Sep 14, 2005)

Michael will make sure the shaman is comfortable, sharing his rations if none other are offered.


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## Max (Sep 14, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley ponders the words of the ancient shaman for a while, then just shakes his head.  "I ain't going to say if I believe any of this or not.  There are some strange things in the world, so maybe this is all straight talk.  Either way, sounds like we need to treat this varmit who stole the talisman like a rabid wolf and shoot him so he can't do more harm."

Riley accepts the Marshals offer to take the first watch, and moves back to his blankets near the fire to get some sleep.  He keeps his guns close at hand.


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## synecdoche (Sep 14, 2005)

D'Artois stares into the fire, deep in thought, before he leans back and tilts his hat over his eyes.  

"Sleep well, gentlemen," he says before he dozes off.


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## hobbit_killer (Sep 16, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap is snoring loudly minutes after the old indian finishes his story.  You do notice Ellie sits ready in his hands at a half .


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## The Shaman (Sep 18, 2005)

“You can wake me for the next watch, marshal,” Dakota replies. “I’m an early riser.”

The wrangler’s bedroll lies on his buffalo skin robe, to insulate it from the snow. Wrapping himself in the thick, warm flannel, he’s glad to put the events of the night behind him.


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## Bobitron (Sep 18, 2005)

The Marshal asks that the watches cycle quickly, and he takes the last one after getting a couple hours of sleep. When you wake, he already has a couple pounds of salted pork, heavy with fat, frying in an iron skillet for breakfast, and a few bowls of porridge layed out. The snow has finally stopped, leaving over three feet of snow on the ground. Looking about with tired eyes, you note a freshly made path heading to the east.

"The shaman left a good twenty minutes ago. I gave him a couple extra blankets and the last of my matches." Colburn tilts his hat back and winces as he looks up to the bright sun. "Damn sun's going to make things rough on the eyes today." He starts handing out the breakfast as it finishes along with steaming cups of Arbuckle's.

Once you all finish eating and gathering your gear, the posse starts to make its way north. The going is very slow as you take turns leading, breaking through the snow to clear a path. A bit before sunset, you reach the edge of Mount Shasta itself; an impressive peak, dazzling in the bright sun from the west. You currently meander through a steep valley on the southern face of the mountain.

Both Bear Trap and Michael's ears prick up as you move through the snow. The horses start whinnying nervously and prancing as a dull runble starts to fill your ears. Bear Trap turns to face the group with a somber look on his face and hisses out a word that every man native to these parts dreads...

"Earthquake!"

ooc for Bear Trap: With Bear Trap's high Survival skill and local experience make it obvious in your position that the bigger threat in this situation is an avalanche. With so much fresh snowfall atop the shaking ground, it's bound to dump massive amounts of ice and snow down into the valley. There is no obvious shelter but one spot, a large bunch of thick pine trees about 600 yards to the north.


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## hobbit_killer (Sep 20, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap point to the north, "We need to git to those pines over yonder quick like!"  

The big man giddyups his draft horse and starts plowing through the snow towards the trees dragging mule behind him.  


OOC: The intent is to use the draft horse to plow a trail for the others.  Let me know if I need to make any checks.  Unless I think extreme haste is needed I will avoid spurring Horse on.


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## The Shaman (Sep 20, 2005)

The bass rumble and the heaving ground spur Dakota to action. “Lucky, up!” he calls, reaching for the dog, pulling the mutt up on the saddle. Once Lucky is safe in his arms, he clicks his tongue and snaps the reins – Thunder leaps forward, followed closely by Lightning.

The wrangler’s eyes look up the snowy slopes as the horses bound through the snow.


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## Committed Hero (Sep 21, 2005)

Michael will make sure no one straggles behind on the way to the pines.


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## synecdoche (Sep 21, 2005)

D'Artois steadies himself, and, looking more than a little spooked, grabs what he can carry and runs off to obey Bear Trap's call.


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## Max (Sep 21, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley joins in the gallop for the trees, hoping he doesn't see a wall of snow come roaring down the hill.  "I'd hate to get killed by something I can't even shoot back at," mutters the gunfighter.


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## Bobitron (Oct 1, 2005)

The fresh snowfall combined with the quaking earth has created a deadly flow of frozen snow, ice, and dirt. It slams down into the valley with incredible speed. Bear Trap spurs on his mount, and the rest of you follow his example. The mounts seem more than willing to run through the thick snow, but the pace is much slower than you would like considering the tons of debris coming at you. The surging avalanche overcomes you as you twist and lurch to avoid it.

OOC

Saving throws:

Mount #1 (Bear Trap) 22, saves for half damage, taking 18 points.

Mount #2 (Marshal) 11, fails save, taking 23 points.

Mount #3 (Dakota) 15, saves for half damage, 10 points.

Mount #4 (D'Artois) 21, saves for half damage, 16 points.

Mount #5 (Michael) 13, fails save, 25 points.

Mount #6 (Riley) 12, fails save, 21 points.

Thunder: 16, saves for half damage, 17 points.

Lucky: 17, saves for half damage, 9 points (Lucky indeed!)

Damn Mule: 7, fails save, 26 points.

Bear Trap: 17, saves for half damage, 12 points.

Marshal Colburn: 13, fails save. Adding an action die brings it to 18, saves, 11 points.

Dakota: 20, saves for half damage, 14 points. 

D'Artois: 28, saves for half damage, 19 points.

Michael: 23, saves for half damage, 11 points. 

Riley: 16, saves for half damage, 12 points.

All those who failed the saves are buried and will take 1d6 damage per minute until they are freed. Please let me know if I missed anything.


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## Max (Oct 5, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Racing his horse for the trees, Riley watches helplessly as the wall of snow thunders down the mountain side.  He reflexively, and futilely, tightens his grip on the reins as the snow hits with the force of a sledgehammer, ripping him out of the saddle.  Bouncing off of trees, rocks, and who knows what else, Riley is amazed when he finally stops to still be able to see the sky.  

After looking himself over, he decides that nothing was broken, but he is bruised from head to toe.  Both pistols are still with him, held in place by the hammer thongs, but they will need a good cleaning.  Not surprisingly, his hat is nowhere to be seen.  Staggering to his feet, he takes a quick look around and is relieved to see all of his companions more or less alive, but half of the horses are missing.

"Everybody still alive?" he calls out, to see who is conscious.  Before he can ask what happened to the horses, he sees part of the snow moving as if something large was buried and trying to get out.  "Damn, looks like some of the horses got buried under the snow.  Anyone got a shovel?" he asks, as he staggers over to try and dig the horse out with his hands.


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## The Shaman (Oct 8, 2005)

Breathing heavily, blowing steam from his mouth and nostrils, Dakota spins Thunder around and grabs his lariat. _Good work, boys - and you too, mutt_, he thinks as he looks for sign of the buried animals.

“Clear the snow from their noses,” he calls to the others, “and unbuckle the belly bands on their saddles.” He readies the lasso to pull the trapped animals free.


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## synecdoche (Oct 8, 2005)

D'Artois unsteadily starts to move towards the horses, and begins digging with his hands to clear a way for the animals to breathe.


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## hobbit_killer (Oct 10, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap picks himself up and makes his way towards the point where his mule went under the snow.

"Aye, I got me a shovel, but its on that damn mule who got himself buried!"


With care that belies his words, he starts to gently clear away the snow from  where he believs the animal's head may be.  

OOC:  I would like to make a survival check (take ten) of *24* to make sure there is no more danger of another avalanche.  I would then like to clear away the snow from the mule and when possible, take 10 on a treat injury to stabilize (result *15*).  If my horse fails his MDT save, treat him first.


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## Committed Hero (Oct 11, 2005)

Michael assists the digging, careful to spot signs of frostbite.


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## Bobitron (Oct 12, 2005)

Bear Trap spends a moment looking at the hills and determines the terrain seems safe enough to stay put. Scrambling to get the animals free from the snow and ice, the posse quickly locates the trapped animals and dig into the loose, cold debris that covers them. It doesn't take long for your concentrated efforts to bring results.  

The results of the avalanche are grim. The Marshal's horse and Bear Trap's mule are already dead by the time you reach them. Several of the other mounts are still alive, but are sure to die if they move, their breath coming in deep wheezes as they take in air through cracked ribs and punctured lungs.

ooc: All those who missed the save and were buried are dead or dying. Some might be saved, but surely cannot continue on. Mule as well as Colburn, Michael, and Riley's mounts are all out of action. All those with any knowledge of animals can easily confirm this.

Hands shaking from the cold effort of digging, Marshal Colburn collapses into the snow, leaning up against a bank that didn't exist ten minutes ago. "Let's stay here for the rest of the day. We still have about an hour of sunlight left. We'll use it to set up camp in those trees."

He turns to Bear Trap with a somber face. "I'm sorry about your Mule, Mr. Williams. Your warning prepared us for the worst of the avalanche, though. Thank you. You may have saved us all."

Looking over at Dakota, he sighs and speaks again. "I'm going to leave it to you as to how to handle the injured animals, Mr. Turnbow. A right shame it has to be this way, but without the care they could get in town with a proper vet, there's no hope for them."


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## The Shaman (Oct 13, 2005)

Dakota nods and pulls the Winchester from its scabbard next to his saddle. “Y’all best move off a bit – seen a ricochet kill a cowhand by accident once. Bear Trap,” he continues, holding out the reins, “lead my horse over with the others.”

Moving carefully from animal to animal, the wrangler talks softly and strokes necks and snouts before delivering the killing shot.


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## Committed Hero (Oct 13, 2005)

Michael commends the horses to the Great Spirit in Dakota's wake.


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## hobbit_killer (Oct 13, 2005)

*Bear Trap*

Bear Trap nods to Dakota and takes the reins in numb hands.  "Ain't nothin', Marshal.  We took a lickn' on this one, but I seen worse.  Heck, surprised that dern mule lasted this long."

The big man turns to lead the horse away as he tries unsuccessfully to stifle a sob.  

"stupid, stupid mule...*sniff*"

When Dakota finishes the grim task at hand, Bear Trap starts to distribute gear amongst the remainder of the horses and looks to D'Artois, Michael, and Riley, "Horse here is a worker, without my fat butt on him, he should be able to haul a pretty good load. Now fellas, don't know how you feel about it beins' there your animals, but this ain't the city and meat is meat.  Yer call."

Turning to the Marshal,
"With us bein' down some some animals, I guess we are on foot from here.  With yer leave Marshal, I think it best we take a look see at what caused this.  Could be just snow meltn' in the sun, could be somthin else."


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## Bobitron (Oct 13, 2005)

hobbit_killer said:
			
		

> Turning to the Marshal, "With us bein' down some some animals, I guess we are on foot from here.  With yer leave Marshal, I think it best we take a look see at what caused this.  Could be just snow meltn' in the sun, could be somthin' else."




Colburn looks at Bear Trap's face with concern. "You thinkin' it might have been... unnatural?" He nods in response to Bear Trap's expression. "Take Michael and check it out."

You make your way up to the top of the hill. It is a very slow journey, made even worse by the additional debris spread about by the avalanche. The sun is falling behind the mountain as you reach the top. Nothing is found to show that the event was anything less than nature's own fault. 

By the time you make it down to the camp, Colburn and Dusty are tending a roaring fire and heating up water for coffee.


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## Max (Oct 23, 2005)

*Riley McClean*

Riley spends the time & effort to drag his saddle off of his dead horse, and recover the rest of his gear.  Luckily, his rifle stayed in place.  Still no sign of his hat, though.  Caching his saddle in the most protected place he can find (under a tree or some rocks), he moves over to the fire and fills a battered cup with coffee.  Nodding his thanks to Dusty and the Marshall for the coffee, he finds a comfortable spot near the fire and begins to clean his weapons.  He does them one at a time, so there are always two loaded guns handy.

"Well Marshal, how far are we from town now?  Appears to be a long cold walk, no matter how you look at it."


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## The Shaman (Nov 7, 2005)

The grim task done, Dakota returns to where the posse is gathered among the trees to tend to his own animals as best he can.

Treat Injury 5 (Thunder), 15 (Lightning), and 12 (Lucky).


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