The Forge Archives

One of the things that makes the Pool so cool is that with a little pre-game discussion, narrative technique, and some good relationships, you can sit down with people you've never gamed with before (who've never played the Pool before, even) and with zero prep time turn out just extremely freaking cool play.

Tonight (Saturday the 24th) we did a pickup game of the Pool in the Indie Net-gaming IRC channel. It was me (the GM), Bob McNamee (Matt), That Drastic Fellow (Ezekial) and Lxndr (Jeremy).

I'd suggested an Indie Net-gaming Marathon, but nobody seemed to take me up on it except Lxndr (not a Forge member, but has friends who are). The two of us left IRC running pretty much all day, and conversed on and off. Finally around 5:00 people started trickling in. Silvered Glass was there, and Lxndr was asking about the Pool. So I offered to run it, and got some pregame going. Bob and Drastic showed up too.

So, I asked what sort of setting, genre, theme, etc. they were in the mood for. Without a second's pause, Lxndr goes: "Wild West Supers."

"Well," we all said. "Hmm. You mean like...?" And here's what we ended up with:

(The "Knacks" are the supers element. People who have them are called Knackers. Nice double meaning, I though.)


Mathew "The Rascal" Rascoe (Bob)

Matt has a surprising amount of friends despite his mean spirited practical jokes. Most cowboys like him, except for the ones who want him gone. Women love him - they really can't resist him - its his Knack. Indians are immune to him, and hunt him for a prank dishonoring the Elders.

Mean spirited practical jokes (+1)
Cowboys like him (+2)
Women love him (+2)
Indians are immune (+1)
Indians tracking him (+1)

Pool: 4


Ezekial Grissom - "The Preacher" (That Drastic Fellow)

He lost his family to disease, and his faith with it. He drifted West, his Knacks rising with the journey.  Once able to rouse certainty in his listeners, he now drains it.  His last memory was wandering the desert and running out of water - and then waking up in Deadwood.

Knack: Gumption Drain (+2)
No family (+1)
Lost Faith (+1)
Missing Time (+1)
Survivor (+1)

Pool: 5


Jeremy Hawthorne (Lxndr)

The son of John Hawthorne, foreman of the Suzy Q.  Educated in a fancy private school in Denver until his powers manifested and his dad brought him home.  He worked for the Suzy Q a number of years until a falling out with his father forced him to seek new employment.

Educated (+2)
Knows the Deadwood area (+1)
Falling out with father (+1)
Knack: Physical Perfection (+2)
Knack: Uncontrolled Other Abilities (+1)

Pool: 5


And here's the session log. If you're interested in the Pool, Wierd West, Supers, etc., please read it and let's have some comments. :)

The Pool - Wierd West Supers - Session 1

<Paganini> Dust and the thunder of hooves fills the air as the last few cows amble into the coral. Matt reigns in his horse as a couple of cowboys bar the gate and lean against the whitewashed rail fence. A hip flask is passed around along with the natural idle talk at the end of the days' work. "Hey," says Lank, a big beefy cowhand. "Ain't that the Mexican over there?" He points with a meaty finger. "Senhor Matt, Senhor Matt," gasps the Mexican as he stumbles up. "Come quick, the Prospector found a man half dead of thirst in the desert." His voice is whiny and nasal. "I think" - gulp - "I think he is like us!"

[Ed. Note: I told the guys to imagine him as Peter Lorre with a sombrero.]

<Matt> "Well Boys, another fine delivery for Mr Clayton, first round at Sallys is on Pokey... seeing as he was slowest" laughs Matt nudging Pokey. "Heh, whats the senor?"

<Paganini> The Mexican looks confused.

<Matt> "Right fine of you to let me know, Mex... Hey you've got a spot on your shirt.... Har Har Har! Just funnin' you ought ot take me tom him them, you tell the Doc already I reckin'"

<Paganini> The Mexican rolls his eyes expressively at the two cowboys. "He is like us!" he whines. "He is special! I can tell!" Lank seems to take an interest in this, but all he says is: "Wall, I'd best be gittin' on back to the ranch. Mr. Clayton'll want to hear about these here cows. Have one on me at Sally's."

* Cut to the dusty track leading into town.

<Paganini> Jeremy trudges along the track, heading for the boarding house.

<Jeremy> "I swear, if I were a lesser man I'd have choked to death on the dust."

<Paganini> "An' that's just God's honest truth," says a leathery voice from the side of the road.

<Jeremy> "Who said that?"

* Jeremy heads over to the side of the road, cautiously, making sure one hand is by his six shooter.

<Paganini> You're not sure how you missed him, but an equally leathery character is squatting by the side of the road, taking advantage of the meager shade offered by a scrubby bush.

<Jeremy> "What's your name, stranger?"

<Paganini> "No need to get itchy there, son," the man says eyeing Jeremy's gun. "I'm the Gambler." You realize that the man has a deck of worn cards in his hand and is tossing them expertly into his hat, a few feet away.

<Jeremy> Jeremy keeps his gun unbuttoned, but moves his hand away. "There's many gamblers round these parts, sir.  Which one, exactly, are you?"

<Paganini> "I reckon you must be ol' Johny's boy Jeremy. Long time since they've seen you around these parts." The Gambler stands up slowly and puts on his hat. There don't seem to be any cards in it now, somehow.

<Jeremy> "I've mostly been by the Suzy Q since my pa brought me back from Denver. But I manage to make it into town, from time to time. How... do you know my father, mister... Gambler?" Jer's hand moves back towards his gun.

<Paganini> "Lots o' gamblers around here, but only one Gambler. Folks know about the Gambler." He looks off over the desert. "I had a name once though..." he says nostalgicly. "Just like you, boy. And a pa too. But that was a long time ago."

<Paganini> Jeremy is sure that he's never seen this wierd fellow before. It's unnerving that the Gambler seems to be quite familiar with HIM! "I reckon you're headed for the Boarding House," says the Gambler.

<Jeremy> "Well, less'n I can find a better place to stay, I'm headin' down to Miss Cleo's for sure."

<Paganini> "Mind if I walk with you? I been fixin to drop in on the Prospector and see how his varmint's doing. Looked like a dead possum he did, when he brung him in out of the desert." The Gambler waves his hand around obscurely. "Oh, yer pa. Everyone knows yer pa, son. He owns half the Knackers in the county!"

<Jeremy> "I suppose there's no harm in company," Jer says, still suspicious.  "Perhaps you can tell me more of your story as we walk."

* Cut to the Boarding House.

<Paganini> Ezekial wakes up slowly. He sees rough boards around him, and feels a rough pallet beneath him. He's in a shed somewhere, or a cheap room in a bad hotel. He hears voices, quite a few of them, but the only ones he can make out are quite near, one old and crusty, the other soft and young and female.

* Ezekial blinks, looking round slowly, then sitting up carefully.

<Paganini> "Well, hiya," says the crusty voice. "Bout time you woke up, Preacher. Warn't sure if you was gonna make it there for a whale. Course, you wouldn'ta if it weren't for me. Not anotehr man alive coulda found you out there in the desert. Nope. Nosiree."

* Ezekial focuses with difficulty on the voice. "'In their heat I will make their feasts, and I will make them drunken, that they may rejoice, and sleep a perpetual sleep, and not wake' he said," he mutters. Then, more clearly, "Where am I?"

<Paganini> "This here's the Boarding House, and that's Sally," says the crusty voice.

<Paganini> Your blurry eyes make out an old geezer perched on a stool. He's waving his arm at a vaguely female shape standing in the doorway. "I be the Prospector. I find things, even what don't want to be found, but mostly money, if you get my drift." The Prospector lays a long finger along the side of his nose. "'Course, you probly don't approve of money, what with bein' a preacher an' all."

<Ezekial> He attempts to rise, thinks better of it. A small smile hits his face briefly  "If you were looking for money and found me, I suppose I must apologize."

<Paganini> "Naw, naw," says the Prospector easily. "Always plenty of money out there. I kin find more. Ain't every day I find a half-dead preacher on the rocks though. What you doin' out there? Ain't no one but injuns lookin' for God out in the desert."

* Ezekial shakes his head. "Not much to look for."

<Paganini> The Prospector take a long swig out of a cold bottle. He eyes Ezekial speculatively. "Normally I wouldn't be offering a preacher spirits, but seems like you could use a mite. Thet all right, Sally?"

<Paganini> "Why sure, Prospecter," says the soft female voice. "If he wants it, there ain't no harm in it."

<Ezekial> "No harm worth mentioning," he agrees. "I'd be grateful for some.

<Paganini> Sally is suddenly pushed aside as an angry looming figure bursts into the room. "Now listen here Prospector," storms John Hawthorne, "I don't know what you got Jeremy in here for, but you ain't gettin' away with it! That boy is mine to deal with!" He seems a little drunk, but the six gun in his fist isn't shaking. Much.

* Ezekial is making another, more successful, go at sitting up as he bursts in, and looks up curiously.

<Paganini> Sally looks scared and hangs on to Hawthorne's gun arm. "It's not what you think Johnny," she's saying in a pleading voice. "Don't be hasty!"

<Paganini> The Prospector stands up slowly. "Wall, now, good afternoon to you, Mr. Johnathan," he says easily.

<Ezekial> "'Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged,'...or other way round, perhaps," Ezekial murmurs, and manages the task of rising to his feet, setting a hand to the wall for balance, the movement taking most of his concentration.

<Jeremy> [MoVing for his dad] "It is NOT a good afternoon, Brandon.  My son done walked out on me and word is YOU'VE got him."  He brandishes his six gun, swinging it towards the Prospector, and it goes off, shattering a bottle on the far wall.  "Damn... Brandon, I didn't mean..."

<Paganini> Sally shrieks. "No guns! No guns! Not in my place!"

<Jeremy> But the Prospector is hearing none of it.  "Get out of here.  NOW!"  He draws his shotgun to bear. "You've got to the count of three. One..." Jonathan doesn't budge. "Two," he continues to stand still. "Three." Jonathan, realizing his mistake, turns to run. Brandon pulls the trigger, and a slug lodges in Jonathan's arm. He stumbles away.

<Jeremy> "Sorry bout that, Sally."

<Paganini> Sally wails "Johnny!" and rushes to catch him before he falls. She stares back at the old man with the gun. "Prospector! You shot him! You killed him!" Hawthorne clutches at Sally's arm. "I'm not dead Sally," he gasps. "Get me to... the doctor." He glares back over at the Prospector. "This isn't over Brandon," he grates. "You can beat the Gambler with that bet!"

<Ezekial> "'For they eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the wine of violence'" Ezekial mutters, and takes several careful steps to the bar, picks up the forgotten cup of whiskey that had been poured before Hawthorne burst in, and downs it.

<Paganini> The shouting people take no notice of Ezekial's mutterings. Sally drags a stumbling Hawthorne away, all the while screaming at the Prospector who fires his shotgun into the aire a few times. Shouts and squeals come from the upper floors of the Boarding House as the Prospecter's slugs go tearing through the flimsy wood.

<Paganini> The Prospector turns around and takes his stool againe. "Sorry about that, preacher," he allows, perfectly calm once more. "Ol' John Hawthorne's a mite demanding these days. And he bites before his brain has time to bark at him."

<Paganini> Outside...

* Matt "The Rascal" with "The Mexican" and "The Doc" in tow meet Mr Hawthorne and Sally leaving with the sound of shots in the background

[Ed. Note: This is the last we see of the little greaser. I forgot about him. Likely he piked off to cause trouble in another part of town as soon as things got hot agian. I'm sure he'll be back.]

<Paganini> "Matt, oh Matt," weeps Sally. "It's the Prospector! He shot Johnny!"

<Matt> "Mr. Hawthorne... Doc check him out! Sally you need anything? and who's the trigger happy fool, no guns in here. We got Mr. Clayton's herd in just fine Boss. We'll have you fixed up in no time. We'll just have to straighten out that fool with the gun"

<Paganini> "Now then," says a booming voice. "What's going on here?" The Deadwood sherrif stands there, hands on his hips, star shining brightly in the sun. "I heard tell there was shootin' goin' on over here. What's all this ruckus, Sally? You lettin' guns in your place now? You're gettin' worse than the matron!"

<Matt> "Howdy Sherrif Lawless, hear its just the Prospector blowing it out the wrong end"

<Paganini> "He hit Mr. Hawthorne?"

<Matt> "Cigar?" - offers him one of his hand rolled.

<Paganini> The look in the Sherrif's eye is saying "More Power To Him," but his words are of duty and law. "We'll have to bring him in then," he sighs. "The law's the law. Come on and watch my back, Matt. You're stand-in deputy today."

<Paganini> Sally and the Doc help Hawthorne off down the street towards the Doc's office. Hawthorne is cursing loudly, Sally is still teary.

<Matt> Matt-"Well sure...I'm always happy to help... Winged the boss... we could take care of him for you..."

<Paganini> "Now you know I can't do that, you rascal. I've got my duty. You just be easy with your toothpick there."

<Matt> "Duty...you never change... working for Mr. Hawthorne's more fun"

<Paganini> "Wall, Matt, you jes' remember what I said. My offer still stands, you know." The Sherriff gives Matt a sidelong look.

<Matt> "But I'll help you get him locked up safe fer a while I reckon"

* Jeremy enters with the Gambler

<Jeremy> ...and that's where I decided to give up my old name and come back to Deadwood, where I was born.  Oh, hi Sherriff.  What's going on here?"  The Gambler walks on to the scene, a gangly Adonis named Jeremy following behind him. "Dad!  What happened to my father?"

<Paganini> The Sherriff eyes Jeremy with some suspicion. "Hello, Gambler," he says. "I see you picked up young Hawthorne. Seems his pa was just here lookin' for him, makin' a scene. Got hisself shot." The Gambler lets out a loud guffaw. "Prospector done it, I reckon odds are. Warn't no moren' he deserved that Hawthorne. Nor Prospecter neither, cooling his heels in the lockup now, is he?" The Gambler looks at Jeremy. "Sorry kid. Me'n your pa don't get on too well. Shouldn'ta laughed in front of you though. Tempting fate, that's what it is."

<Jeremy> Jeremy shakes his head. "I swear, pop's never going to learn." He looks at the Gambler. "Trust me, me and my pa don't get along too well either." He makes a fist, unconsciously, and then releases it. "I won't punish no man for speaking ill of my father, not when it's the damn truth."

<Matt> "Well, Sherrif... we gonna take The Prospector in now?"

<Paganini> "Yep, come on boys. You kin come if you want Jeremy.

<Paganini> The Sherriff heads toward's Sally's Boarding House with Matt and the Gambler following behind.

<Jeremy> "My pa's gun's out of his holster.  Where is it?  Was he holding it inside?  Did he fire it?"

<Ezekial> Ezekial's voice is thundering from inside the boarding house; he seems lit from within. "'Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do: and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.' You truly believe you'll find profit in this, Prospector?  Do you truly?  Are you that naive after all your years? This is foolish..."

<Ezekial> The Prospector is backed away against a wall, shotgun discarded in the middle of the room, staring at the Preacher with a stricken, shattered look of despair as the Sheriff and his impromptu posse enter. "Please..." he whimpers.

<Paganini> "Well," says the Gambler. "That's a Paohfull knack you got Preacher, I lay long odds. I ain't seen the Prospecter that skeered in years. You done us a might good favor and I'm obliged to you."

<Jeremy> For all his power, Jeremy Hawthorne is still a kid.  He staggers backwards out the door, and leans on the side of Miss Cleo's, wiping his brow.

<Paganini> The Sherriff looks grim. He grabs the Prospector's arm. "Come on you, off to the lockup. You done shot your betters."

<Matt> "Don't worry old man... we'll make sure yer ole mule Jenny has a good stall in Mr Hawthorne's stable till trial," smirks Matt.

* Ezekial glares at the Prospector, intensity in his voice fading as the Sheriff takes hold of him. "'...and my soul shall abhor you,'" he spits, then turns away, draws a shuddering breath, and drains the rest of his drink.

<Paganini> Jeremy groans and clutches his head. "Damnation," he groans. "Damnation and hellfire. The Preacher... his son... abhor...." Jeremy's eyes start to glow a little red, and flames stand out on his forhead. He gives a yell and suddenly the Preacher, the Prospector, the whole room goes up in a sheet of red hot flames.

<Jeremy> "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

* Jeremy collapses, unconscious, in the middle of the burning room.

<Paganini> The Gambler coughs, covering his mouth with is bandana. "Preacher," he hollers. "Shut up man, we gotta get outa here!"

<Matt> Matt hightails it out of there..."Fergit this... No more do-gooding!"

<Paganini> The Gambler grabs the Prospector with one hand and Jeremy with the other and starts dragging them towards the door. Sherriff Lawless abandons the field, tears streaming from his eyes. "C'mon Preacher," yells the Gambler. "Pull yourself together."

<Jeremy> Jeremy continues to lay unconscious, moaning in pain.  His body seems to be laced with flames, but they are not burning him, nor his clothing.

<Ezekial> 'Ye shall kindle no fire throughout your habitations upon the sabbath day.' This land of wickedness!" the Preacher howls as flames shoot up through his clothing. He does not run, but walks out the door, emerging through the wall of flame in the doorway wreathed in fire and smoke as he emerges; deathly calm amidst the panic as he walks several more  yards, lays down, and rolls in the dust, the flames guttering out quickly away from the knack-fueled epicenter.

<Paganini> Everyone stares at the black smoking ruin of Sally's Boarding House. As you watch, the brittle, charred roof slowly collapses. The Prospector coughs and sits up, staring at Jeremy and the Preacher with equal amounts of fear. Sally comes tearing up from the Doc's. "My place," she cries horasely, too upset even to scream. "You burned my place! You burned my place!" She keeps repeating it over and over, her tears driping down to make little muddy spots on the dust and ash.

* Ezekial eyes smoldering spots on his clothing, and pats out a final spot of scorching hair. "I think I preferred the desert."

<Paganini> The Gambler stares somberly at the ruin, fliping the pack of cards that has appeared in his hands again. He twists his wrists oddly and a single card shoots out of the middle of the deck. It floats down to land on Sally's burnt doorstep. Somehow, it's the Ace of Spades.

* Matt catches Sally, turning her away from the ruin of her place...

<Matt> He wraps his arms around her whispering the soothing words that all hurting women seem to want to hear. Sally breaks down in his embrace. He leads her away from the scene. "Hush now, we'll just get you tucked away in Mr. Hawthorthe's guest house... I'm sure he won't mind." She cries most of the way, and by the time they get to the cottage-like guest house she whispers the expected "Please stay, I can't be alone after a shock like this." She doesn't see Matt's quick smile as he drops the bolt. "They're all the same..." he thinks.

End of Session 1

A couple of setting notes to go along with the previous post. The premise is that the town of Deadwood and surrounding area is ruled by typical competing Wild West factions... the Sherriff, the Rancheros, the Banditos, the Injuns, etc., etc., etc. The difference is that the competition is mostly centered around the Knackers. Everyone wants the various Knackers to work for them. This makes for all kinds of interesting political alliances and machinations. The Prospector, for example, it was established is a sort of bounty hunter. He finds Knackers - he has a knack for finding things it seems - and basically sells them to the big boys. This, of course, is what set the preacher off. While the scene was centered on the Sherriff & co., he found out what the Prospector was really up to. (This all happened with MoV declaration and OOC channel discussion, so it's not in the log.)

One of the things I really like about the Pool after a couple sessions, that I was dubious of before ever playing, is the 50-word chargen limit.  It does a great job at being unforgiving at focusing the attention on who the character is, in a way that can really springboard them into play that more hefty background writings (which I'm prone to) can fail at.

It's a surprisingly powerful rpg engine, and I love how the chassis grows organically around it with such minimal preptime.

Really wasn't sure this Western Supers was going to click for me... and the character I created seemed a bit weak to me at the start, not much meat to work with...

Matt "The Rascal" Rascoe
He started as a random name from a Name Generator webpage.
The last name suggested "Rascal" to me...
I thought...hmm drifter cowboy-type...maybe he'll become a Han Solo-type.
50 words on the dot... no really juicy problems for him, but a little hook.

Boy!
Play sure brought his true self out!
I had a lot of fun playing somebody who I am beginning to like less and less the more we get to know him.

I think it'll be fun to see whether he sets himself for a big fall, or whether he has an unlikely turn of personality into a decent person.
 I see these characters as folks with a kind of Dust Devil-like Devil pushing them - in the form of their Knacks.

Once play got going you could see a web of relationships and stresses forming, and dialog just came spilling on out, although my typing didn't :>.

Had a lot of fun!

This is awesome. I bow in humility before you guys. I really wish I could have joined in. Ezekial rocks.

Wait till you see session 2...from last night...

...and we liked it  so much we're going to try to play again tonight, I think.

Enough teasing, Here's Session 2...

The Pool - Weird West Supers - Session 2

< Matt> Matt- emerges in from the guest cottage in the dark hours of the morning, shutting the door silently -- "I need a drink, wonder if the boys are still gamblin' at the Saloon... I'm sure Wally'd open a bottle for me...Judge's rules or not..." trudges off toward town...

<Paganini> The Mexican intercepts him just outside of Main Street
"Senor Matt, Senor Matt! It is not good to come here. Senor Johnny knows about Sally! He's sent the Gunslinger after you to get her back!"

< Matt> "Wha..?"-goggles Matt
"Now I need more than one Bottle!"-Matt
"How'd you find me before She did, my amigo?"-asks Matt

<Paganini> "I have been watching for you. Things are very bad here now. I don't know what will happen. Sheriff Lawless and the Gambler have the Prospector holed up in the lockup. Jeremy is there too. Mr. Clayton has been trying to get him out all night."

<Paganini> (Mr. Clayton has been trying to spring the Prospector, that is.)

<Matt> "Mr. Hawthorne say if I still have a job?"-Matt

[<Paganini> "You should be glad if you escape without perforations! Senor Johnny thinks you are working for Sheriff Lawless!"

<Matt> "Not that  it matters if the 'Slinger finds me first... doesn't much like me...still sore about all my other lady friends...I can't help it..."-sighs The Rascal
"God, I just could see another Knacker getting screwed by the Prospector, you know how I feel about him Mex..."-matt

<Paganini> "You be careful! She is looking for you now!"
The Mexican ducks inside the nearest stable. Looks like he plans to lay low.

<Matt> "hell of a day...I tell you...I should just drive the damn herds and stay out away from town...Towns nothing but trouble, worse than the injuns"-Matt
"Time to hit the trail again, join me Mex? we could head off and join the Banditos maybe..."-Matt


<Paganini> * Cut to the Sheriff's office

<Jeremy> "I swear, Marshall, I couldn't help it!  I'll work to pay off the rebuilding, really I will."

<Paganini> The Gambler stands by the barred door, keeing alert watch through a small window, shotgun held loosly in his hands.
"Don't worry about it, son," the Sherriff says easily.
"Old place was on its last legs anyhow."
"Sally may be a mite upset for a while, but she'll get over it. From what I hear tell about Matt, she's already over it."
The Gambler snorts, but doesn't say much.

<Jeremy> "Still, she don't deserve losing her bread and butter."

<Paganini> "Now, we got some more serious business to attend to."
Sherriff Lawless ambles over to the barred cell and peers in at the nervous Prospector.
"Low listen, Prospector. You done a bad thing. You shot Mr. Hawthorne. Y'aint gonna get off easy."
"It'll be a hangin', I expect" puts in the Gambler.
The Prospector blanches.
"But you throw in with me, and I'll see what I can do to ease up on you," continues the Sherriff.
"Mr. Hawthorne'll be after your hide, now. I'll keep it in one piece, jes so long as you put that long nose of yourn to work."

* Cut to Wally's Dry Goods (top floor of Wally's Saloon)

<Ezekial> He looks through clothes, moving stiffly from a night of sleep on open ground.
"You look like you've had a hard time of it, friend," Wally comments, ambling out from round the counter.  "Got invited to the wrong end of a barbeque?  HAW!"
The Preacher sighs and looks over at him, and Wally's eyes widen.  "Well, I'll be!  Zeke!  Zeke Grissom!  What the heck you doing out in these parts?  Haven't seen you since I was down in arizona territory!"

Ezekial looks at him blankly; the shopkeep's face entirely unfamiliar to him.  "It has been...some time," he allows.  "And I have had better nights.  I'm in need of new clothes...friend, and perhaps short on currency.  Could you..."
"Hell, you know your credit's good here, Preacher."

<Paganini> Back at the Sherriff's office there's a sudden pounding on the door.

<Paganini> "Open up Lawless!" shouts John Hawthorne's voice.
"I know you got Jeremy in there!"

<Jeremy> "Uh, Marshall.  Ya got a back way out of this place?"

<Paganini> "Sorry son. But I reckon you can handle your pa. If Clayton's still around, he's sure to come along being distractin'"
The Gambler looks questioning. "You want I should let him in?"

<Jeremy> "Oh, no question I can take my pa," Jer says, flexing.  "Whether or not I want to, that's the question."

<Paganini> "Gwan and open up Gambler," directs the Sherriff.
The Gambler opens up the door and Johnny Hawthorne storms in.
"I got a bone to pick with you, boy," he growls at Jeremy. "You burned Sally's place, and she run off with that no good cowhand of mine!"
He wheels on the Sherriff.

<Jeremy> "I reckon Sally can choose who she wants to run off with, pa.  As for Miss Cleo's, I'm already working on paying back the damages."

<Paganini> Mr. Hawthorne snorts.
"You ain't never made a red cent that I didn't give ya, pretty boy. You're soft!"
"Soft and girly. Mebbe you should go to work for the Matron," he spits.

<Jeremy> "Well, perhaps you should have raised me differently, pa," Jeremy says, getting up from his chair.  "Sure'n hell I ain't as soft as I was yesterday, and no way will I be taking any more of your wooden nickels."

<Paganini> The Sherriff is smirking at Mr. Hawthorne, like he enjoys seeing the rancher get told off. The Gambler, though, lays a hand on Jeremy's shoulder.
"Easy, there, Jeremy."

<Jeremy> "Ah, I wasn't gonna do nothin', Marshall.  He's not worth the effort."

<Matt> In the stables…

<Matt> Matt is getting his horse ready, when he sees the Prospectors mule munching some oats in a nearby stall. "The Gall of that man" he fumes.
A burst of Knackish inspiration hits him. Trouble again no doubt, but too seductive to resist.
"HEH,heh,heh", he chuckles quietly.
The Mexican looks up, "No senor, whatever you plan, now is a Bad time", but he knows that look- talking's useless.

 A few short minutes later, Matt has paited up Jenny the Mule, with makeup from the Brothel…and somehow acquired something resembling lingerie.

 He leads Jenny to the Jail. Tying her securely to the hitching post by the door. Glazed eyes smiling with mischief as he paints in big red letters "Hawthorne's new lover" on both sides.

 Then he high-tails it to the alley across the way. The Mexican tries to get him to leave town, but knows he won't till he sees his pranks results.

<Paganini> * Back inside the Sherriff's Office

<Jeremy> "Not worth the effort?!"  Johnny clenched his fists, poised to strike.
The Gambler noisily cocked his gun.  "I don't think you want to do that, John Hawthorne."
"Stay out of this!"  Johnny turned to the Gambler, who gave no ground.  They stared at each other, and the rancher was the first to turn away. He spun back on his son.  "You'll come back to me, boy, I swear it!  This world is too tough for the likes of you!"
"You underestimate me, Johnny," Jeremy says, spitting his fathers name instead of using the honorific, "and one day, you'll realize that."
John storms out of the office, and a moment later screams in anger.

<Ezekial> A short distance down Deadwood's main (only) drag, Ezekial emerges from the haberdasher's, looking far less scorched.  Curiously, he looks to the source of the sudden scream of rage.
He shrugs and begins to walk towards the bizarre scene of the painted mule, John Hawthorne red-faced screaming obscenities staring at it, and the Preacher almost smiles despite himself.
"'And Balaam said unto the ass, Because thou hast mocked me: I would there were a sword in mine hand, for now would I kill thee,'" he remarks to another ogling passerby, drawing only a confused gape.

<Matt> Matt-- watching from the alley...hands over his mouth trying to stop from laughing

<Paganini> As the Preacher approaches the commotion a pretty young woman ambles past him. Her hips sway as she walks, a finely tooled black leather holster slapping softly low on her right hip.
Her hair is black and thick, tied back by a leather thong with a turquoise clasp.
Her dark skin and black eyes tell the tale of injun blood.

<Matt> Matt’s eyes tear over, as he holds the hilarity in.... Behind him "Oh, senor...make not a sound...we MUST go, you've had your fun...", pleads the Mexican

<Ezekial> Ezekial's gaze follows the woman as she passes, then reluctantly averts again.

<Paganini> The Gunslinger sways up to the shouting group. She sees Matt crouched down in his hiding spot, but her attention is inexorably drawn to the strapping young lad just stepping out of the Sherriff's office.
She waltzes up to Jeremy and puts a posessive hand on his shoulder.
"Well, howdy there, stranger," she says in a husky voice. "What's your name?"

<Jeremy> "Folks round her call me Jer, ma'am," Jeremy says, blushing slightly.  "And might I have the pleasure of your name?"  It's obvious that Jeremy isn't used to attention from women, but is still handling it well.

<Paganini> "I'm the Gu... Maryanne," she starts, then finishes.

<Jeremy> "Well," Jeremy says, taking a step closer, "nice to meet you, Maryanne.  What brings you to Deadwood?"

<Paganini> "I'm a workin' for Mr. Hawthorne at the moment." She nods her head to Jeremy's irate father. "Some varmint runned off with his girl. Mr. Hawthorne here is paying me a pretty penny to put a couple of holes in him."

<Jeremy> Jeremy barks a laugh.  "You're working for my father?"  In a perhaps misguided attempt to to impress her, he adopts the more formal speaking patterns of his schooling days.  "He pays a lot of pretty pennies, but watch out for his wooden nickels."

<Paganini> Hawthorne's red face interposes itself into the conversation. "What are you doing here Gunslinger? Get out and do your job. I want his head, you hear me? HIS HEAD! Look at this!" He waves at the silk-draped mule. "You get out of here," he says, noticing Jeremy.

<Jeremy> "You got no place telling me what to do, pa," Jeremy says, not taking his eyes of the Gunslinger.  "Look, whatever it is you're doing for him now, surely you can share a drink with me tonight?"

<Matt> Matt finally blinks away the tears...sees the Gunslinger... and makes a hasty retreat down the alley...

<Ezekial> The Gunslinger turns a look of wide-eyed, exaggerated innocence to the mule at Hawthorne's angry gesture at the mule.  She leans forward a little, studying it intently.
"But Mr. Hawthorne, sir," she says with a wink to Jeremy, "I thought you said the Rascal ran off with your girl.  But isn't that her right there?"

<Jeremy> Jeremy smiles, stifling a laugh, watching the scene play out before him.  He winks back at the lady, though.

<Ezekial> The crowd that's gathered by this point howls in laughter; Hawthorne's face turns several shades of red as he's left momentarily speechless.  Amidst the laughing crowd, the Preacher stands out by dint of grim expression, arms crossed.

 His gaze is on the Gunslinger, expression turning a little puzzled, as if trying to place a fleeting memory of a dream.

<Paganini> The angry gathering is interrupted by a banging commotion as the Dodge City coach comes clattering up at top speed.

The horses are covered with lather, on their last legs, but running all out.

It skids around the bank and topples over, the bloody driver rolling in the dust.

<Jeremy> "Jesus Christ in Heaven," Jeremy curses, running towards the driver.

<Paganini> "Ambushed at the pass... the Bandito... Got the Governor... killed his men... hhhh..."
"You gotta help..."
The driver reaches out a sticky hand to Jeremy.

<Ezekial> "Unlikely," Ezekial mutters as Jeremy runs past him, but follows at a less hurried pace, drawn by curiosity.

<Jeremy> "The governor?"  Jeremy takes the driver's hand.

<Paganini> "Alive... they took him... must be in holed up in the old mine..."


<Matt> Matt heads out of town, "Gotta ride like the wind , my friend!... the Banditos will take us in, a life free under the stars... no rules, and no Town living...I should have done this long ago..."-to the Mexican

<Jeremy> Jeremy concentrates, feeling the power welling up in him.  He knows that he can save the driver, a man he'd never known.  He'd healed before; once, his favorite horse threw a shoe and broke two of its legs, and he brought the horse back to health before his Pa'd shoot him.  So he concentrated; he knew it would happen.
 But nothing happened.  The driver closed his eyes; maybe he was dead, maybe just the next thing but.  Jeremy was wrong; what was welling up within him wasn't power, it was just tears.  Damn tears.  He wiped them away before anyone could notice.

<Ezekial> The Preacher pushes through the onlookers, kneeling down by the dying man.  His eyes are distant, remembering presiding over deathbeds of lighter times.  "'...grave, where is thy victory?'"

<Paganini> The Gunslinger kneels down by Jeremy and lays a callused hand on his shoulder. She doesn't say anything, just reaches out to close the grizzled driver's eyes.
"No shame in tears," she says softly. "He was a good man."
She straightens up.
The street clears rapidly, leaving only the Gambler who has his cards out again.
"They're all off to form their posses," he says somberly. "Guess I should go saddle up with the Sheriff."

<Jeremy> Jeremy puts his hand on top of the Gunslinger's hand.  "I don't think the banditos should be allowed to hold on to the governor.  I'll be saddling up with someone."  He looks at Maryanne.

<Paganini> He stops to drop a card on the dead man - the Queen of Spades - and heads off.

<Ezekial> The Preacher remains kneeling, looking at the dead man, gaze distant before murmuring "dust to dust," and standing again.

<Paganini> Jeremy notices that somehow Maryanne has the Queen of Hearts poking out of her shirt pocket.
"I'll ride with you, Jeremy," she says. Then she turns and calls after the Gambler.

<Jeremy> "Preacher," Jeremy says, "if you'll want to be riding, care to come with us?"

<Paganini> "Clint! Hey! Leave the Sherriff to himself. I know you got better scruples. Ride with us!
The Gambler looks uncertain. "I gotta be by the side of Law," he says hesitantly. "Otherwise fate and chaos rules."

 The Gambler looks down at his hands - still holding his cards - then over at Jeremy, the fine young man setting off resolutely to face dangerous men.
"C'mon Gambler," says Jeremy. "We could use your luck!"
"Ah, devil take the odds," howls the Gambler, hurling his cards into a horse trough.
He strides back towards them.
"I'm with you."

 As the four of you head for your horses and gear, the Gunslinger drops back with the Preacher and says a few quiet words in his ear.
"Just be watching yourself Preacher. I know what you done out there. I'm easy with you joining us, but if you do much to Jeremy you'll stop a bullet."

<Ezekial> Ezekial's eyes narrow as she walks away, then he shrugs and follows.  "Why do I have the feeling it wouldn't be the first time?"

<Paganini> * Cut to Deathrap Mine, a few miles out of towns in the foothills.

<Paganini> Matt and the Mexican reign in their horses and dismount.
"I am not being certain this was a good idea, Senor Matt," the Mexican says nervously.
"I see men with guns over there."

<Matt> "I thought you rode with them in the old days?"-Matt
"I was rather counting on you cashing in on old friendships..."-Matt


<Jeremy> "Oh, Senhor," the Mexican says, "my brother Manual, he runs with the banditos, but I do not know if this is his group or not..."
"All my bandito amigos I know through him."  He squints.  "My brother, he is not here.  But there, I think I recognize Jacinto..."  He stands.  "Jacinto, it is me, Ruben Montoya."

"I do not know who this Jacinto is," the man replies, "but you best throw down your gun and step out where I can see you..."


<Paganini> End Session 2

Great Stuff!

 

Cripes, it never ends!  This fusion is even cooler than the last one I read here.

This setting is about as kickass as I can think of... the Knackers concept is perfectly suited to the milieu.  I can think of a few Wild West inspired fusions, like Deadlands, Trigun, or The Tale of Alvin Maker along similar lines, and they're all cool.  This one reminds me of Jo Jo's crossed with Silverado... great work all around.  

And how can you not dig the Preacher's soliloquys?  That's classic stuff there.  Is the player just making sh!t up?  Those don't look like real Biblical quotations... but they're damn cool either way.

Is there a pickup thread/forum for these kinds of things?  I've had poor luck getting my friends to game with me on or offline...

Quote from: Nev the Deranged
And how can you not dig the Preacher's soliloquys?  That's classic stuff there.  Is the player just making sh!t up?  Those don't look like real Biblical quotations... but they're damn cool either way.

The guy has a searchable Bible up in his web browser as we play. Freaky cool. :)

QuoteIs there a pickup thread/forum for these kinds of things?  I've had poor luck getting my friends to game with me on or offline...

Dude! If you have to ask, our PR campaign just isn't working. Get thee to Yahoogroups:

http://www.yahoogroups.com/group/indie-netgaming

Edit: Oh yeah... wait until you see the *third* and final climax session. Heh heh heh!

Quote from: Paganini

Quote from: Nev the Deranged
And how can you not dig the Preacher's soliloquys?  That's classic stuff there.  Is the player just making sh!t up?  Those don't look like real Biblical quotations... but they're damn cool either way.

The guy has a searchable Bible up in his web browser as we play. Freaky cool. :)

The biggest delay is just picking between choice quotes pulled up from any given keyword.  :) The only one where I ever knew what I was looking for before a quick search-and-context-rip was the bit from a story about a fellow named Balaam and his vexing donkey.  Serendipity, that.

QuoteOh yeah... wait until you see the *third* and final climax session. Heh heh heh!

What's this about final? :)

It better not be final, I say!

I have plans for poor Jeremy, who's got to fill his father's footsteps now that he's murdered the man (yeah, that third session really needs to be posted).

The Pool - Weird West Supers - Session 3

* Recap from last session:
* Cut to Deathrap Mine, a few miles out of towns in the foothills.
Matt and the Mexican reign in their horses and dismount.
"I am not being certain this was a good idea, Senor Matt," the Mexican
says nervously.
"I see men with guns over there."
<Matt> "I thought you rode with them in the old days?"-Matt
"I was rather counting on you cashing in on old friendships..."-Matt
<Jeremy> "Oh, Senhor," the Mexican says, "my brother Manual, he runs
with the banditos, but I do not know if this is his group or not..."

"All my bandito amigos I know through him." He squints. "My brother, he
is not here. But there, I think I recognize Jacinto..." He stands.
"Jacinto, it is me, Ruben Montoya."

<Paganini>
"I do not know who this Jacinto is," the man replies, "but you best
throw down your gun and step out where I can see you..."

End of recap

<Matt>
 Matt tosses out his well worn pistol,"Howdy, pard... that good enough
for you? Word around is you're always looking for independant thinking
folks, that'me! ...I'm done with following the rules..."-he starts to
lead his horse forward "So, where do I put my horse?"-he grins his
likeable smile

<Paganini>
* Cut to the posse: Jeremy, The Preacher, The Gunslinger, The Gambler
The four of you close in on Deathtrap Mine...

 The area around the mine is deserted. It seems that you've beat the
other posses to the prize.

<Jeremy> "Told you that was a shortcut," Jeremy says with wounded
pride.

<Paganini>
 "All right kid, we believe you," says the Gambler.

<Ezekial>
 Ezekial gazes slowly round the horizon.  "'...and after will I send
for many hunters, and they shall hunt them from every mountain, and
from every hill, and out of the holes of the rocks.'  Deathrap Mine,
you said it's name was?  I take it Gehenna Vein played out?"

<Paganini>
 "What we need now is some kind of plan," the Gunslinger says moodily,
surveying the bleak wilderness around the mine.

<Jeremy>
 "Gehenna's over that rise, actually," Jeremy says, pointing towards
the west.
 "Seems to me the more we can avoid the banditos attention, the better
off we are..."

<Ezekial>
 Ezekial nods.  "Must be coming back to me."
 "Does this mine only have one entrance?  If there's a lesser known
back way in, it may save us the trouble of..." he eyes the Gunslinger,
"...catching bullets, till a bit later."
 The Preacher waits patiently as Jer's brow furrows.  The Gunslinger
looks suspiciously at him, and starts to speak.  "Preacher, what is
your game here?  You know as well as I do that..." she says before
Ezekial cuts her off suddenly.
 "Closed entrance through a disused vein, over the ridge to the east,
I believe."  He ignores her suspicious look and steers his horse
thataway.

<Paganini>
 "You all are gonna need a diversion, I reckon," the Gambler says
speculatively.
 He fingers his six gun.
 "Reckon I'll take the fron tentrance."

<Jeremy>
 "Diversions are great things to have, if timed right..."

<Ezekial>
  Ezekial nods.  "Take care casting your lots, Gambler."

<Jeremy>
  Jeremy pulls out a pocket watch.  "You wouldn't happen to have a
timepiece on you, would you Gambler?"

<Paganini>
 "Right here," says the Gambler, pulling out an elegant looking watch.
A pair of flaming dice are etched into it's polished gold case.

<Jeremy>
 "What time do you have?"  Jeremy asks.  Soon, the two watches are
synchronized.  "Zeke, how long do you think it'll take for us to reach
that vein to the east?"

<Ezekial>
 "Say, an hour, if we care about not breaking the horses legs, I
reckon."

<Jeremy>
 "And knowing those mines, it'll probably take another hour to get to
where we need to be.  So... let's say we get our diversion at fifteen
after high noon?"

<Paganini>
 "Right then," the Gambler says. "I'll see you after, if the Lady Luck
smiles on me."
 "She usually does."

* Cut to Matt and the Mexican
 The Mexican hurries forward grinning nervously.
 "Ah, Jacinto, Jacinto," he whines. "You know me!"
 "Ah!" says the bandito. "You mean the Cook! Of course, if you know
the Cook, you are welcome here. I am the Black Mask."

 He steps back and lowers his gun.


<Matt>
Matt walks over to his gun "Okay If I holster this?"

<Paganini>
 "Sure, sure," the Black Mask says easily, clapping Matt on the back.
 "Come on in. The Cook was just fixin' up a mess o' grub before the
lookout hollered out you was comin'."

<Matt>
 Shakes his hand--- "One thing you need to know...That Hawthorne
fella...he's got a bounty hunter after me..."

<Paganini>
 "HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW! I reckon we're all wanted men out here. I got
the death sentence in twelve counties!"

<Matt>
 "All for a simple roll-in-the-hay...selfish bastard, she asked for
it..."-matt

<Paganini>
  You settle down to get acquainted, passing around the communal
bottle, with a bowl of ham and beans balanced on your knees.
 You've been eating for about fifteen minutes when a haloo comes from
the front of the cave.

<Matt>
 "I tell ya Rube...I should have done this long ago...just like being
on the range, full time"-smiles Matt

<Jeremy>
 "Matthew!  Matthew Roscoe, you rascal!  I know you're in there!"  
Sally's voice bellows up the hill.  "I'm not going to let you run away
from me that easily, not after last night..."
 "Ol ma'am Curie says you done got me heavy with child."

<Matt>
 Matt sighs---"If I had two bits for everytime I've heard that, I’d
run this territory..."
 Matt--"Just wishful thinking on her part though...that kid is mule-
lovin Hawthornes"

<Jeremy>
 The Black Mask laughs.  "Looks like Hawthorne's not the only one
who's marked you for a fate as good as death..."

<Matt>
 Matt-glowers then smirks and laughs "Ha! you said it!"

<Paganini>
 A shadow falls across the mine entrance. The gambler stands there,
hands on his hips.
 Everyone was too busy staring at Sally to notice him approach.
 "Well, howdy Gambler," the Black Mask says warily.
 "Didn't see ya comin'."
 "I reckon not," the Gambler replies. "But I got a little wager for
you."
 The Gambler tosses a dollar bill down on the cave floor.
 "I reckon a doller I'm faster on the draw than the first man who
takes my bet."
 "Double that to the second man that takes my bet."
 "An so on until either I'm dead, or the game's to rich for your
Banditos."
 "Any takers?"

* Cut to the posse closing in on the back entrance.

<Jeremy>
 "Well, looks like you were right, Zeke.  You used to work in this
mine or something, Preacher?"

<Ezekial>
 "Something," the Preacher mutters.

<Paganini>
 The back entrance is all boarded up with old planks. Doesn't look
like there's any guards around, but it's hard to be sure.

<Jeremy>
 Jeremy checks his watch.  "Time's running short."

<Paganini>
 "We'd best be goin' in," says the Gunslinger, easing her gun in its
holster.
 "Let's pull these boards down as quiet as we can."

<Ezekial>
 After she swings down in a graceful dismount, she opens up her
horse's saddlebag, reaches inside.  "Reckon this is about the time you
meant you'd want these back, Preacher.  I kept them safe for you--hope
it was for a good cause."
 As Ezekial looks cautiously at her, she pulls out a well-oiled
gunbelt, cartridges glinting in its hoops, two heavy revolvers secure
in holsters, and tosses the entire rig to him.  He catches it and eyes
them, then slowly buckles it in place.
 The handles sticking out the holsters are deeply-oiled wood, each
with a word burned into it.  Boaz.  Jachim.
 "You just remember what I said," she hisses quietly, with a
meaningful glance towards Jeremy, then turns away, putting her
attention back to the mine.

<Jeremy>
Jeremy, meanwhile, is bringing his muscle to bear on the planks; he
misses the byplay between the Preacher and the Gunslinger behind him as
he tears plank after plank away from the entrance.

<Paganini>
 A few minutes later the three of you are making your way into the
mine.
 As the bright spot of light that is the entrance dims away behind
you, a shot rings out, echoing through the tunnels.
 Up ahead of you - somewhere - you hear a death cry, and some
shouting.
 And a loud female scream.
 Seems like the Gambler's diversion is going off right on time.

<Jeremy>
 Jeremy notices the Preacher now sporting twin pistols, but (wisely?)
says nothing.  After all, he soon is forced into action by the shots he
hears ahead.  Abandoning caution while trying to remain quiet, he
starts running forward.

<Ezekial>
 Ezekial almost caresses the handles of the pistols, their feel
familiar but maddeningly out of conscious reach.  "'Shall these bones
live?'  Hell.  Who knows."  He follows Jeremy at a slightly more
cautious pace.
 "Jeremy, wait!" the Gunslinger hisses, as his pace picks up, faster
and faster.  His feet suddenly barely touch the ground, almost skimming
along its surface as he charges forward.
 "Damnation," mutters Ezekial as Jer disappears out of sight behind a
sudden cloud of dust, as the young Hawthorne runs at extreme speed into
the bandit cave, where everyone--to his eyes--appears to be moving in
slow motion.

<Paganini>
 The Gambler is standing there, a dead man on the ground in front of
him, two one-dollar bills laying in the dust.
 The Black Mask, an outraged look on his face, is going for his gun,
as are several of his henchman.
 Matt is also there, along with Sally, clutching Matt's arm.

<Jeremy>
 Jeremy sees the danger his friend is in and screams out in denial.  
The Gambler won't fall, not as long as Jeremy Hawthorne has anything to
say about it.  Like a whirling dervish, he passes from bandito to
bandito, taking the guns out of their holsters before they have a
chance to blink.
 He empties the revolvers of their bullets, throwing them into dark
corners where they won't soon be found; he then replaces the guns,
upside-down or otherwise in useless positions, poised for maximum
chaos.  Then he pauses for a moment, searching his quarry - the
territorial governor.
 He empties the revolvers of their bullets, throwing them into dark
corners where they won't soon be found; he then replaces the guns,
upside-down or otherwise in useless positions, poised for maximum
chaos.  Feeling mischievous, he runs up to the Gunslinger and plants a
long (for superspeed) kiss on her lips.  Then he pauses for a moment,
searching his quarry - the territorial governor.
 He could feel himself slowing down... the buzz had passed, the power
going away again.
 Jeremy looked around at the chaos, as time returned to its proper
speed.  He couldn't see the governor anywhere; the was no sign of a
struggle, or any sort of kidnapping.  Perhaps they'd already killed him
and dumped him somewhere?  No, that would be beyond even the
banditos...
 Jeremy stopped for a moment, as the black mask realized what happened
to his gun.  No, it couldn't be.  But... it had to be.  He leaped on
the black mask before the bandit could get his gun reloaded, knocking
them both to the ground.  A moment later, he'd unmasked the Black Mask.  
It was Christian Branstead, brother of Jerence Branstead (owner of the
Suzy Q) and the new territorial governor.

<Paganini>
 The Gambler's jaw drops.
 "Governor Branstead," he gasps. "You're the Black Mask?"
 The rest of the banditos, looking extremely unnerved at their loss of
guns and ammo back away towards the depths of the mine, only to come up
short as the Gunslinger and the Preacher arrive with drawn six-guns.

<Jeremy>
 Jer attempts to pin Christian Branstead to the ground, clamping a
hand over his mouth so he can't yell out any orders to his men.
 They flail around on the ground, but for once, age and treachery
don't manage to defeat youth and exuberance.  In mere moments, Jeremy
has one hand over the governor's mouth, and is using his body to keep
the old man from moving anything important.
 He leans close and whispers into his ear, "My father may have liked
you, but I couldn't stand you from the start.  Now that we know you're
with the bandits, there's no chance you'll make it into office."

<Ezekial>
 The banditos stand there stunned in the confusion before starting to
come to.  "It's just a prairie wind knack," snarls one, "Quit yer
yellow-bellied standing around and get em!"  
 But as they begin to move, the Gunslinger and the Preacher emerge.  
"'And I will execute vengeance in anger and fury upon the heathen, such
as they have not heard!'" the Preacher booms, and Jachin and Boaz
thunder in his hands, the bullets deliberately fired into soft ground,
the clap of fire deafening in the cave.
 "And I think you heard that," the Gunslinger adds as the echoes die
down.  "All of you had best just lie down, real peaceable like--or
you'll see some executin' here."
 The banditos stare, and slowly get down on the ground.

<Matt>
 Matt--draws Sally into his embrace....Gives her a quick kiss..."Maybe
you should tell the boy the good news Sally... a Hawthorne would take
care of their own..."
 Matt- nudges her away toward him...looking for a fast exit

<Jeremy>
 The Gambler steps forward and puts his hand on Jeremy's back as the
Gunslinger points her gun at Rascoe.  "Before you do something we'll
all regret, son," the Gambler says, think on this."
 "One," the Gambler says, ticking off fingers, "Jerence Branstead will
never let you get away with murderin' his brother, no matter how
justified it may seem.  Two, if we send him home, they might just send
out someone worse to replace him, frightening as that may seem...
 "Three," he continues, "if he stays in office, we've now got this
thing called leverage..." he traces the barrel of one of his pistols
over Christian's forehead.  "In addition to the reward he'll no doubt
give us for his rescue, we've got influence over him in exchange for
our silence."
 "And last but not least (good thing, 'cause we were running out of
fingers), killin' a man in a shootout, or in the heat of passion,
that's one thing.  But you kill him now, that's murder; that'll make
you no better off than he is.  Worse.  You might'n well put on that
mask after that."

<Ezekial>
 Ezekial keeps an eye on the cowering bandits, and murmurs "'...I have
a secret errand unto thee, O king: who said, Keep silence,'" with the
Gambler's words.

<Jeremy>
Jeremy looks down at Christian Branstead, whose eyes showed true fear,
and released the tension.  He removed his hand from the governor's
mouth.

<Matt>
 Matt raises his eyes from Maryanne's glittering barrel and meets her
eyes... a flicker of his charming smile crosses his face...instead he
raises his hands...

* Cut scene to the main mine entrance.

<Paganini>
 The banditos emerge, hands raised high, the "Black Mask" leading the
pack.
 Behind them comes the posse, guns at the ready. Sally is still
hanging on to Matt, who is walking near the Gunslinger, arms also
raised.
 Just outside the mine entrance is the enigmatic Mr. Clayton, sitting
high on his horse, with a triumphant grin.
 Standing next to him, also smirking, is Mr. Hawthorne.

<Jeremy>
 "That baby can't be my pa's, Rascoe," Jeremy jeers.  "Didn't you know
he had his balls shot off shortly after he knocked up my ma?"

<Paganini>
 A few dozen armed men stand behind them.

<Matt>
 Matt-"Well it shore ain't mine... then again you always did want to
get back at yer Pa didn't you boy..."

<Paganini>
 "Wall Jeremy," says Hawthorne in a gloating voice, "You're smart
mouth gonna get you in a heap o' trouble one day, but not today. Ya
done jes' like I knew you would. With Branstead strung up and his
family discredited, it's a sure bet that Mr. Clayton here'll win the
next election. Jes' too bad the Sherriff couldn't be here to see it."
 He snickers.
 "You have done well, Hawthorne," says Mr. Clayton in a deep rich
voice. "I must admit that at first I was skeptical of your
predictions."
 "Wall, like I said Mr. Clayton, I just gotta kind of a knack..."

<Jeremy>
 Jeremy balls his fists in impotent anger.

<Matt>
 "You ride Jenny, Mr. Hawthorne?"-asks Matt

<Paganini>
 The Mexican, who has usual managed to cringe away from all the
action, nods his head wisely. "Ah, aha! I knew it! I can always
tell..."
 He eyes Mr. Hawthorne smugly.

 Mr. Hawthorne guffaws at Jeremy's consternation.
 "Reckon you'll be about ready to come home now, boy, seenin' what a
man's world is really like."
 "Played you like you was simple, I did. Let that be a lesson for
young varmints what try to think fer themselfs."
 Jeremy steps forward incensed.

<Matt>
 "Hell Jeremy cheer up, you can ride your Dad's new squeeze
Jenny...same as you did Sally..." Matt goads them both

<Paganini>
 "By golly, Matt was right about you, mule-lover! I oughta... I ain't
never..."
 But the Gunslinger puts a hand on Jeremy's shoulder and whispers in
his ear.
 "Hey, now, don't be in a hurry. We could use a man on the inside.
It'll be dangerous, I know, but think about it. For me?"
 Jeremy grinds his teeth, but cuts short his tirade, bottling it up
inside.
 "All... right...he grits.
 "I reckon I'll come back to the Suzy Q with you."

<Jeremy>
 Jeremy felt the power start to well up in him again, this time in
anger.  He tried to hold it in; he wanted to do Maryanne proud, she'd
struck a chord in him he didn't know he had.  But the power, like it
always did, grew out of his control.
 Clouds began to roll in from off the horizon; dark, inky black, like
things out of a nightmare, the sort of clouds you'd have to work hard
to find a silver lining inside.  Thunder rolled ominously, and the wind
began to pick up, forcing everyone to hold their hats against their
heads.

<Ezekial>
 The Preacher takes several unconscious steps away from Jeremy as his
power flares.  "'And I will dash them one against another, even the
fathers and the sons together, saith the Lord; I will not pity, nor
spare, nor have mercy, but destroy them,'" his voice quiet in the
rising gale.

<Jeremy>
 Thunder cracks again, as everyone looks around; only the gunslinger
and the gambler seem to realize the source of this elemental explosion.  
The gambler looks on with perhaps a bit of fear in his eyes; maryanne,
on the other hand, simply looks on with concern.  Lightning flashes as
rain begin pouring down in buckets.

<Matt>
 Mr. Hawthorne- "That’s it! I've gonna blast you now, Stealin' my girl
then this!"
 Mr. Hawthorne-"Let him go, and give him his gun... no one says what
you have and walks away..."

<Jeremy>
 It's as dark as a moonless night.  As the rain pelts the dusty
ground, the thunder grows louder, more intense; the intervals between
the thunder and the lightning closes.  Maryanne tries to put a
comforting hand on Jeremy's shoulder; he takes it in his own,
frightened too at the power he's unleashed.

<Matt>
 Matt turns to the Gunslinger smiles and takes his gun, as rain pours
off him...

<Jeremy>
 "I can't stop it," he whispers to her.  "I can't..."  His fear is
evident in his voice.

<Matt>
 "I can't stop it either kid...its our curse..."-Matt
 The two men face off....rain so thick they can barely see each
other...

<Jeremy>
 Lightning hails down from the sky, cracking a nearby tree.  Some of
the yellower bandits run squealing into the darkness, disappearing into
the mist and the wind.  The winds continue to pick up as a lightning
bolt comes down on a nearby tree, splitting it in two.  Jeremy squeezes
Maryanne's hand tightly, wondering if it will ever come to an end.

<Matt>
 Through the blinding sheets of rain, the pair can only see their
silhouettes when lightning flickers above...
 Their hands hover over their holsters...
 "Damn fool" thinks Matt.."She asked for it...and he deserved his
come-uppance"
 Matt catches the quick motion of Hawthorne’s hand "Damn, he's fast
when he's angry" "I'll be too late", he thinks.
 Hawthorne’s shot rings out,whistles just past Matt's ear.
“Angry's a lousy way to aim", Matt thinks as he falls back limply,
dropping his gun.

<Jeremy>
...and lightning like God's judgment comes falling out of the sky.  
The sheer pressure of the energy being released drives Jeremy to the
ground, unconscious again, as many times in two days.  The bolt,
however, manages to hit its mark: Johnny Hawthorne.
 Bones crack, skin peels, and a sound like the wail of the dead in
hell escapes Johnny Hawthorne's lips.  He twists and writhes on his
horse, letting loose one, two, three pistol shots.  His men, Clayton's
men, scatter behind him, running to the winds.
 The enigmatic Mr. Clayton himself reaches up to his throat, his face
one of utter disbelief.  He pulls his hands away to find them covered
in blood, and moments later all life fades from his eyes.  Compared to
the death of John Hawthorne, his was a blessing... quick and easy.  A
few moments later, the last of Johnny's screams die out.
 All that is left is silence, the pattering of the rain, and the
howling of the wind...

<Paganini>
 Then... "Matt," screeches Sally, "Johnny!" But it's Matt's side that
she rushes to, to cradle his head.
 The Gambler shakes his head. "I'm gonna run outta spades. All this
death, but me still alive. Fate never stops, does she?"

 The Gunslinger holsters her six-gun with a slight smile. The Black
Mask likes on his back a few feet away, staring sightlessly at the sky,
a yankee hold-out pistol lying in his limp fingers. She looks at the
Preacher. "It's over then Zeke. I can finally rest."

<Ezekial>
 Ezekial nods slowly.  "Rest has a way of being interrupted.  But may
it be true."
<Paganini>
 The Gunslinger helps the Gambler pull a blinking Jeremy to his feet.

<Matt>
 Matt-opens his eyes "Hi darlin', why I couldn't go off getting myself
killed with a pretty thing like you to live for..."

<Paganini>
 "Devil take the odds boy," rasps the Gambler, his eyes watering a
bit. "How do you stay alive? You got more sand than the desert."
 The Gunslinger just wraps her arms around Jeremy and puts her head on
his shoulder.

<Matt>
 Inwardly Matt cringes then says "I'd have braved the gates of hell to
come back for you..."
 Sally gathers him up into her arms and covers him with kisses...

<Ezekial>
 Ezekial surveys the carnage as the rain slowly eases and ceases.  
"Amen," he says, and turns away.

<Matt>
 Over her shoulder Matt looks at the Gunslinger, pleading with his
eyes...
 "Please just kill me", he thinks.

<Paganini>
 Matt's interrupted by a tug at the arm.
 "Can we go home now?" the Mexican whines.

<Matt>
 Sally chimes in. “Matt has a home now. He'll make a great father,
Father. I just know it. He's perfect!"

End of Session 3

Here's how Matt looks at the end of Session 3...

Mathew “The Rascal” Rascoe

Matt has a surprising amount of friends despite his mean spirited practical jokes. Most cowboys like him, except for the ones who want him gone. Women love him… they really can’t resist him… its his Knack. Indians are immune to him, and hunt him for a prank dishonoring the Elders.
He’s a man driven by irresistible Knacks. He never avoids using the women that are drawn to him, or taking someone down a peg with a prank. A curse sometimes.

Knack: Mean spirited practical jokes +2 –(4)
Knack: Women love him +2 –(4)
Cowboys like him +2 –(4)
Addicted to thrill of Knack use +3 –(9)
Yearns for Freedom +2 –(4)
Indians are immune +1 –(1)
Indians tracking him +1 –(1)
Sidekick-The Mexican +1 –(1)
Sally LOVES him +1 -(1)

Sally LOVES him +1
replaced the previous trait
Mr. Hawthorne HATES him +1

Fun stuff, a man who can't resist using his Knacks, even though he doesn't like them much.
Not the most likeable guy...but fun.

This is Jeremy at the end of session 3, including a few notes about how I want to alter him before/during session 4

Quote
Jeremy Hawthorne, son of John Hawthorne, ex-foreman of the Suzy Q.  Educated in a fancy private school in Denver until his powers manifested and his father brought him home to work.  He worked at the Suzy Q for three years, learning the ins and outs not only of the ranch, but also of the Deadwood area and its peoples.  A recent falling out with his father forced him to seek new employment, but after that fiasco at Deathtrap, Jerence Branstead appointed him the new foreman.  His friends: the enigmatic cowboy "The Gambler" and the lovely Gunslinger Maryanne.

(97 words)

Educated +2
Knows the Deadwood area +2
Falling out with father +1
Friendship with Gambler (clint) +1
mutual attraction between gunslinger (maryanne) and jeremy +2
Knows his way around a gun +1
Knack: Physical Perfection +2
Knack: Uncontrolled Other Abilities +3

* Want to swap out "Falling out with father" with "resented by Suzy Q employees"
* Want to add "foreman of Suzy Q ranch +1"

Any idea when session 4 is going to happen?  We really need to find a day all 4 of us will be online AND not busy doing anything else.  :D

And the final member of the trio:

Quote
Ezekial Grissom ("The Preacher") lost his family to disease, and his faith with it.  He drifted West, his Knacks rising with the journey.  Once able to rouse certainty in his listeners, he now drains it.  His last memory was wandering the desert and running out of water—and then waking up in Deadwood.  Events there made clear that his stretch of missing memory covered perhaps several years of events; a Deadwood shopkeeper remembers him favorably, and the Gunslinger seems ambivalent about her own memories.  From her hands, he now holds his pistols Jachin and Boaz—not remembered, but familiar. (effective 93 wordcount)

Knack: Gumption Drain (+2)
No family (+1)
Lost Faith (+2)
Missing Time (+2)
Survivor (+2)
Bad Temper (+1)
Good Credit at Wally's (+1)
Jachin and Boaz (+2)

* possible future expansion--boost to Knack and guns when play supports.  Possible trait emergence of uttering prophecies.  Continue using MT as touchstone of factions emerging; extract traits from it.

I'm fond of the fellow and definitely want to get more play in, dagnabbit.