Introduction
In the 1500s the Wyck, those people who carried in their blood the heritage of Pagan Magic, fled across the sea to escape the fires of the Inquisition. As colonists from the Christian kingdoms followed them they were forced to retreat farther and farther into the wilderness of the West. There on the frontier they make their last stand against the endless march of 'civilization' and religion.
Witches see the conflict as a battle between two laws, a battle which their prophets tell them they are destined to loose. Their law, the law that every witch enforces to her dying day, is the Law of the Heart. This Law can Never be written and lives in the beating heart of every human being, even those who have tried to close themselves off from its whispers. The other law, the Law of the Word, represents the codified edicts of states and faiths. According to the witches it is written so that it can be twisted and manipulated, used to enslave rather than protect and to create inequality rather than equality. The two Laws can not coexist and this is becoming apparent as a fledgling America expands her borders further and further West. The Law of the Witches, which for so long kept justice upon the open prairie, is now being contested by Eastern Lawyers and Federal Marshals both of whom consider witches vigilantes.
In their fight the Witches have few allies, though, one might be the native peoples of the West. Like the witches they carry a magic in their blood, a much older more primal magic. Those who inherit this gift are called Shifters and can blend their forms with that of a specific animal, usually a carnivore, native to their land. Although the witches hold many beliefs in common with these Shifters there has long been mistrust between the two. Part of this is because the witches have invariably needed to protect settlers from Indian attack, sometimes with deadly force, but mainly it is due to the weapons of the witches. As an aid in their magic women of the Wyck use silver bullets exclusively as ammunition, silver being a metal which due to its magical properties is anathema to nearly all supernaturals, Shifters included.
The newly freed Negros also hold the Wyck in high regard. Before and during the war witches rescued many from bondage. However, as a result of the violence of the war Witches wound up fighting Northern soldiers more than Southern as they protected innocent people from rampaging troops. In the Post war period the Witches have been characterized as rebels who supported slavery even though they were smuggling slaves across the border decades before the war began. Using their fabricated ties to the Confederacy as reason, the victorious Union, backed by religious authority, does its best to hunt down the remaining witches.
Witchcraft
Strictly speaking witchcraft is the channeling of energy through a media. In the past wands and daggers (athame) were used for this purpose and were always constructed of silver, a metal uniquely conductive to magic in its pure form. Modern witches still occasionally use knives but most prefer silver bullets to channel their spells. When their bullets strike their target they unleash the magic imbued within them causing a variety of effects. Not all such spells are lethal, in fact, the one spell known by almost all witches is the wax bullet spell which stuns but does not kill the target of the shot. Spells are notoriously hard to master and the average witch usually knows no more than a handful.
One vital aspect to magic and a fact which has long influenced the culture of witchcraft is its passage through the blood. This means that it is inherited through the placental connection and that women alone can pass on the gift. Although men, called warlocks, can inherit it, their inability to pass it on has long lead to an inferior status within the Wyck. Due to the often violent actions of Warlocks in recent history most witches refuse to teach the gift to males who carry the blood. As a result there are very few male witches.
Magic in its pure form is called electricity by the Easterners. It can be seen as flashes in the sky and felt by the hairs on the back of your neck when it is being worked near by. For this reason most witches consider eastern technology's gradual use and control of electricity to be near to blasphemy. Many destroy such technomagical devices when they find them.
Spells
Most trained witches know between seven and thirteen spells. Cast by extreme concentration and visualization methods, spells are patterns of magical energy. Since such patterns easily disintegrate in the world at large silver must be used to shelter them until their full effects bloom into being. Largely speaking there are two classes of spells, channels and enchantments. Enchantments are the more common and constitute all bullet-based witch craft. In these spells the pattern of magic is static until the media is disturbed, this usually being the point at which the bullet strikes its target (spells can be triggered before this by hard impacts of the metallic slug so witches must be careful when storing their enchanted rounds). Most such enchantments have a 'shelf life' of little more than a month. At this point the magic begins to fade until the spell is rendered useless. Channeled spells are a much more ancient magic in which the pattern of energy of the spell is not static but flowing. Such spells use older conduits like daggers and wands. Although magic cast in this way can be very powerful, it has four major disadvantages. One, the magic can not extend beyond the implement so it is limited by its range. Two, the witch must maintain contact with the implement or the channel is broken. Three, the steady flow of magic is draining to the witch and she soon tires when casting it and four since channels are cast without preparation they are necessarily simpler than enchantments. Needless to say modern witches tend to focus on enchantment and use channeling mainly when involved in close up fighting.
Marksmanship
All witches are trained in firearms and accuracy from the time they are old enough to walk. As a result they wield their revolvers and rifles with a skill that most frontiersmen see as magic in and of itself. In fact most of their powers of accuracy are derived from a secret method much akin to Zen Archery. In meditation witches learn to collapse the illusion of an expansive and separate world into a single unity. In this trance, witches find they can hit any target they can see as easily as reaching up and touching their own nose. Of course this is seen as much more than a way to shoot better by the witches who consider the unity of all being to be the ultimate reality and the one which awaits us all after death.
Handguns used by witches are usually of smaller caliber than standard pistols, lighter to draw and quicker to load. They also tend to have longer barrels than eastern revolvers giving the weapons a farther range of accuracy. Rifles used by witches differ little from those used by Indians or frontiersmen. Scatter guns are universally reviled by witches and no practitioner would carry such a crude weapon.
Supernaturals
More terrifying things than Witches walk the lonely prairies after dark. Of course, as already mentioned the most abundant 'monster' in the west are the shifters all of whom come from native or african stock. Although witches see shifters as posessing a blood magic like their own, the shifting gift is actually genetic in its inheritance. A recessive allele, it can be passed by either mother or father. Africans taken as slaves brought their own native gift across the ocean. Shifters are notoriously hard to kill, their body regenerating from any injury in a matter of minutes, however, silver due to its magical properties disrupts the shifter's biological magic. Lodging the metal in their bodies is tantamount to jamming a needle in an electronic device. Most quickly revert to their human form and all their powers of regeneration cease. Like Witches Shifters are seen by White preachers as demonic servants put on earth to slaughter the lambs of Christ. In most western territories it is legal to hunt and kill them as ranchers do wolves.
Probably the most common supernatural foe witches face is of their own creation, warlocks. Warlocks are men who carry the blood of the Wyck in their veins. For most power has driven them mad and made them into egomaniacs. Although, capable of all the feats of witches warlocks harbor none of their self imposed limitations. Rather than relying on just their own power they have been known to draw from others through ritual sacrifice thus expanding the potency of their magic many fold. Warlocks also have no compunction against seeking the aid of demons and wraiths. Many of their allies are such creatures given flesh either living or dead to inhabit and set upon the earth. Although there are a few good warlocks who resist temptation, these tend to hide their magic for fear of being mistaken for their maniacal brethren and gunned down by the women of the Wyck.
In the cities of the east another supernatural holds sway, one which has long plotted the downfall of witches. Wyck tradition states that the first of them were male witches, warlocks, who, desiring to pass on their blood magic as women do, created a ritual of blood drinking and in the process created a monster. Vampires are considered little more than fairy tales by most witches, stories told to apprentices to frighten them. Only those who travel in the industrialized north and the old crones know the truth. Vampires not only exist, they control much of America from its business to its government; some believe they are even the hidden rulers of the Christian church. Fortunately the blood-suckers, like all supernatural creatures, can not abide the touch of silver and silver bullets disrupt their many dark powers so long as the metal is in contact with their flesh. In the West where human populations are less dense, vampires are harder to find though they are still to be found, in the shadows of gambling halls, the lower decks of river boats, and the slums of immigrant shanty towns. Wherever there is blood to be had and money to be made, you will find them.
Spirits, according to witches, are beings who have magical form but no material body to go along with it. They are, in a sense, living spells. In our terms they might be called self organizing electric fields. Witches say you can sense them pass when you have an unexpected shiver or see the hairs of your arm stand up. Some of these spirits are wraiths, human souls which seek but have not found rest, others are native spirit-guides and ancestors, still others are the very daemons the Christian Church fears brought with them over the ocean like stow-away rats. In general the Wyck believes spirits to be a nuisance at best. Though, they might offer help, they will always ask for something in return. 'No gift from the spirit world comes without a price,' an old crone once said. Witches who always prefer to rise or fall by their own power spurn all such advances and for this reason their spiritual magic focuses almost entirely on deterance. Shamans of the native people and some shifters, however, readily accept help from spirits and often follow many superstitious proscriptions as a result of their alliegances. Some Christian priests also interact with the spirit world. Many claim to drive out demons, though witches realize its the self diminishing nature of their teachings which leave people easy prey for parasitic spirits in the first place. Of course, as mentioned above, warlocks are the most notorious spiritualists. Their diabolism knows no end in its cruelty or its wickedness and even the echoes of its rituals often walk the prairies for years spreading fear and murder across western towns. Finally there are a few inventors who dabble in things spiritual attempting to harm and even catch such creatures with bizarre new electrical equipment.
Technology
The technology of the period can be considered roughly equal with that available during and after the Civil War. However, on occasion more advanced technology will be introduced. Among such advanced technology may be derigibles, automatic rifles, and strange technomagic devices powered, in some cases, by bound spirits.
Religion
Witches practice a form of paganism which teaches that the divine is imminent in all things, animals, plants and people. Although they do recognize a Goddess who is one and the same with the earth itself, they do not worship her or expect special favors from her. Chief among the beliefs of witches is the sanctity of the human. They view sex as natural and beautiful if consensual and they see every emotion even hate, lust and envy as having their place. Only repression has no place in witchcraft.
The religion of the mainstream culture is nearly identical to the period. Protestant evangelism is sweeping the nation and preachers warn their congregations of the fires of hell and the temptations of things like alcohol, sex and of course witchcraft. Although witch trials and burnings are no longer technically legal, lynchings of witches and burnings conducted by the faithful are still common throughout the West.
Minorities
Apart from Natives and Blacks, the other nonwhite race most commonly encountered in the West will be the Chinese, or Dragon-folk as they are sometimes called. This name is derived from the commonly known legend that they come from an empire ruled by dragons. Few can confirm or deny such stories because the Chinese are an extremely closed off group. They view Americans as unclean barbarians and Americans view them as strange and effeminate. As a result the two cultures rarely mix even when they work side by side. Due to the work ethic and skills of the Dragon-Folk, they have become the nearly universal employees of the railroad, replacing, much to their shame, the Irish workmen.
Among the whites there also exists a minority, set apart not by skin color but religion. The Mormons moved west to escape the prejudice they encountered in the east. Unfortunately it seems to follow them wherever they go. Mormons set themselves apart from other Christians by the embracing of an additional book of the Bible which tells of a strange history predating European colonization. They also (during this time period) follow a polygamous lifestyle with prominent men of the community often taking several wives. Whether you ascribe to their teachings or not, one thing is undeniable. The Mormons unlike other whites are far more tolerant and open in their treatment of native peoples, due, perhaps in part, to these peoples' role in their scriptures.
Story
Most of the players will start as witches who travel together for protection, a common arrangement on the modern frontier. Players who do not want to play witches can create other characters who will wind up travelling with the witches and accompanying them on their adventures. Shifters are allowed but must either be native or black characters. Also be well researched in your tribe or in Black American roots if you wish to play one of these people.
Witches see the conflict as a battle between two laws, a battle which their prophets tell them they are destined to loose. Their law, the law that every witch enforces to her dying day, is the Law of the Heart. This Law can Never be written and lives in the beating heart of every human being, even those who have tried to close themselves off from its whispers. The other law, the Law of the Word, represents the codified edicts of states and faiths. According to the witches it is written so that it can be twisted and manipulated, used to enslave rather than protect and to create inequality rather than equality. The two Laws can not coexist and this is becoming apparent as a fledgling America expands her borders further and further West. The Law of the Witches, which for so long kept justice upon the open prairie, is now being contested by Eastern Lawyers and Federal Marshals both of whom consider witches vigilantes.
In their fight the Witches have few allies, though, one might be the native peoples of the West. Like the witches they carry a magic in their blood, a much older more primal magic. Those who inherit this gift are called Shifters and can blend their forms with that of a specific animal, usually a carnivore, native to their land. Although the witches hold many beliefs in common with these Shifters there has long been mistrust between the two. Part of this is because the witches have invariably needed to protect settlers from Indian attack, sometimes with deadly force, but mainly it is due to the weapons of the witches. As an aid in their magic women of the Wyck use silver bullets exclusively as ammunition, silver being a metal which due to its magical properties is anathema to nearly all supernaturals, Shifters included.
The newly freed Negros also hold the Wyck in high regard. Before and during the war witches rescued many from bondage. However, as a result of the violence of the war Witches wound up fighting Northern soldiers more than Southern as they protected innocent people from rampaging troops. In the Post war period the Witches have been characterized as rebels who supported slavery even though they were smuggling slaves across the border decades before the war began. Using their fabricated ties to the Confederacy as reason, the victorious Union, backed by religious authority, does its best to hunt down the remaining witches.
Witchcraft
Strictly speaking witchcraft is the channeling of energy through a media. In the past wands and daggers (athame) were used for this purpose and were always constructed of silver, a metal uniquely conductive to magic in its pure form. Modern witches still occasionally use knives but most prefer silver bullets to channel their spells. When their bullets strike their target they unleash the magic imbued within them causing a variety of effects. Not all such spells are lethal, in fact, the one spell known by almost all witches is the wax bullet spell which stuns but does not kill the target of the shot. Spells are notoriously hard to master and the average witch usually knows no more than a handful.
One vital aspect to magic and a fact which has long influenced the culture of witchcraft is its passage through the blood. This means that it is inherited through the placental connection and that women alone can pass on the gift. Although men, called warlocks, can inherit it, their inability to pass it on has long lead to an inferior status within the Wyck. Due to the often violent actions of Warlocks in recent history most witches refuse to teach the gift to males who carry the blood. As a result there are very few male witches.
Magic in its pure form is called electricity by the Easterners. It can be seen as flashes in the sky and felt by the hairs on the back of your neck when it is being worked near by. For this reason most witches consider eastern technology's gradual use and control of electricity to be near to blasphemy. Many destroy such technomagical devices when they find them.
Spells
Most trained witches know between seven and thirteen spells. Cast by extreme concentration and visualization methods, spells are patterns of magical energy. Since such patterns easily disintegrate in the world at large silver must be used to shelter them until their full effects bloom into being. Largely speaking there are two classes of spells, channels and enchantments. Enchantments are the more common and constitute all bullet-based witch craft. In these spells the pattern of magic is static until the media is disturbed, this usually being the point at which the bullet strikes its target (spells can be triggered before this by hard impacts of the metallic slug so witches must be careful when storing their enchanted rounds). Most such enchantments have a 'shelf life' of little more than a month. At this point the magic begins to fade until the spell is rendered useless. Channeled spells are a much more ancient magic in which the pattern of energy of the spell is not static but flowing. Such spells use older conduits like daggers and wands. Although magic cast in this way can be very powerful, it has four major disadvantages. One, the magic can not extend beyond the implement so it is limited by its range. Two, the witch must maintain contact with the implement or the channel is broken. Three, the steady flow of magic is draining to the witch and she soon tires when casting it and four since channels are cast without preparation they are necessarily simpler than enchantments. Needless to say modern witches tend to focus on enchantment and use channeling mainly when involved in close up fighting.
Marksmanship
All witches are trained in firearms and accuracy from the time they are old enough to walk. As a result they wield their revolvers and rifles with a skill that most frontiersmen see as magic in and of itself. In fact most of their powers of accuracy are derived from a secret method much akin to Zen Archery. In meditation witches learn to collapse the illusion of an expansive and separate world into a single unity. In this trance, witches find they can hit any target they can see as easily as reaching up and touching their own nose. Of course this is seen as much more than a way to shoot better by the witches who consider the unity of all being to be the ultimate reality and the one which awaits us all after death.
Handguns used by witches are usually of smaller caliber than standard pistols, lighter to draw and quicker to load. They also tend to have longer barrels than eastern revolvers giving the weapons a farther range of accuracy. Rifles used by witches differ little from those used by Indians or frontiersmen. Scatter guns are universally reviled by witches and no practitioner would carry such a crude weapon.
Supernaturals
More terrifying things than Witches walk the lonely prairies after dark. Of course, as already mentioned the most abundant 'monster' in the west are the shifters all of whom come from native or african stock. Although witches see shifters as posessing a blood magic like their own, the shifting gift is actually genetic in its inheritance. A recessive allele, it can be passed by either mother or father. Africans taken as slaves brought their own native gift across the ocean. Shifters are notoriously hard to kill, their body regenerating from any injury in a matter of minutes, however, silver due to its magical properties disrupts the shifter's biological magic. Lodging the metal in their bodies is tantamount to jamming a needle in an electronic device. Most quickly revert to their human form and all their powers of regeneration cease. Like Witches Shifters are seen by White preachers as demonic servants put on earth to slaughter the lambs of Christ. In most western territories it is legal to hunt and kill them as ranchers do wolves.
Probably the most common supernatural foe witches face is of their own creation, warlocks. Warlocks are men who carry the blood of the Wyck in their veins. For most power has driven them mad and made them into egomaniacs. Although, capable of all the feats of witches warlocks harbor none of their self imposed limitations. Rather than relying on just their own power they have been known to draw from others through ritual sacrifice thus expanding the potency of their magic many fold. Warlocks also have no compunction against seeking the aid of demons and wraiths. Many of their allies are such creatures given flesh either living or dead to inhabit and set upon the earth. Although there are a few good warlocks who resist temptation, these tend to hide their magic for fear of being mistaken for their maniacal brethren and gunned down by the women of the Wyck.
In the cities of the east another supernatural holds sway, one which has long plotted the downfall of witches. Wyck tradition states that the first of them were male witches, warlocks, who, desiring to pass on their blood magic as women do, created a ritual of blood drinking and in the process created a monster. Vampires are considered little more than fairy tales by most witches, stories told to apprentices to frighten them. Only those who travel in the industrialized north and the old crones know the truth. Vampires not only exist, they control much of America from its business to its government; some believe they are even the hidden rulers of the Christian church. Fortunately the blood-suckers, like all supernatural creatures, can not abide the touch of silver and silver bullets disrupt their many dark powers so long as the metal is in contact with their flesh. In the West where human populations are less dense, vampires are harder to find though they are still to be found, in the shadows of gambling halls, the lower decks of river boats, and the slums of immigrant shanty towns. Wherever there is blood to be had and money to be made, you will find them.
Spirits, according to witches, are beings who have magical form but no material body to go along with it. They are, in a sense, living spells. In our terms they might be called self organizing electric fields. Witches say you can sense them pass when you have an unexpected shiver or see the hairs of your arm stand up. Some of these spirits are wraiths, human souls which seek but have not found rest, others are native spirit-guides and ancestors, still others are the very daemons the Christian Church fears brought with them over the ocean like stow-away rats. In general the Wyck believes spirits to be a nuisance at best. Though, they might offer help, they will always ask for something in return. 'No gift from the spirit world comes without a price,' an old crone once said. Witches who always prefer to rise or fall by their own power spurn all such advances and for this reason their spiritual magic focuses almost entirely on deterance. Shamans of the native people and some shifters, however, readily accept help from spirits and often follow many superstitious proscriptions as a result of their alliegances. Some Christian priests also interact with the spirit world. Many claim to drive out demons, though witches realize its the self diminishing nature of their teachings which leave people easy prey for parasitic spirits in the first place. Of course, as mentioned above, warlocks are the most notorious spiritualists. Their diabolism knows no end in its cruelty or its wickedness and even the echoes of its rituals often walk the prairies for years spreading fear and murder across western towns. Finally there are a few inventors who dabble in things spiritual attempting to harm and even catch such creatures with bizarre new electrical equipment.
Technology
The technology of the period can be considered roughly equal with that available during and after the Civil War. However, on occasion more advanced technology will be introduced. Among such advanced technology may be derigibles, automatic rifles, and strange technomagic devices powered, in some cases, by bound spirits.
Religion
Witches practice a form of paganism which teaches that the divine is imminent in all things, animals, plants and people. Although they do recognize a Goddess who is one and the same with the earth itself, they do not worship her or expect special favors from her. Chief among the beliefs of witches is the sanctity of the human. They view sex as natural and beautiful if consensual and they see every emotion even hate, lust and envy as having their place. Only repression has no place in witchcraft.
The religion of the mainstream culture is nearly identical to the period. Protestant evangelism is sweeping the nation and preachers warn their congregations of the fires of hell and the temptations of things like alcohol, sex and of course witchcraft. Although witch trials and burnings are no longer technically legal, lynchings of witches and burnings conducted by the faithful are still common throughout the West.
Minorities
Apart from Natives and Blacks, the other nonwhite race most commonly encountered in the West will be the Chinese, or Dragon-folk as they are sometimes called. This name is derived from the commonly known legend that they come from an empire ruled by dragons. Few can confirm or deny such stories because the Chinese are an extremely closed off group. They view Americans as unclean barbarians and Americans view them as strange and effeminate. As a result the two cultures rarely mix even when they work side by side. Due to the work ethic and skills of the Dragon-Folk, they have become the nearly universal employees of the railroad, replacing, much to their shame, the Irish workmen.
Among the whites there also exists a minority, set apart not by skin color but religion. The Mormons moved west to escape the prejudice they encountered in the east. Unfortunately it seems to follow them wherever they go. Mormons set themselves apart from other Christians by the embracing of an additional book of the Bible which tells of a strange history predating European colonization. They also (during this time period) follow a polygamous lifestyle with prominent men of the community often taking several wives. Whether you ascribe to their teachings or not, one thing is undeniable. The Mormons unlike other whites are far more tolerant and open in their treatment of native peoples, due, perhaps in part, to these peoples' role in their scriptures.
Story
Most of the players will start as witches who travel together for protection, a common arrangement on the modern frontier. Players who do not want to play witches can create other characters who will wind up travelling with the witches and accompanying them on their adventures. Shifters are allowed but must either be native or black characters. Also be well researched in your tribe or in Black American roots if you wish to play one of these people.
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"Another, Walter."
The old Union sergeant crossed his arms across his wide barrel chest, they barely reached, "Don't you think you've had enough there Ms. Crawley."
"Done ya Ms. Crawley me, ya sack'a spuds."
Using his one good eye, Walter looked down the bar at a women who could have been his grandmother, even his great grandmother. He wondered for a moment how old the witch really was, certainly no one in Stillriver knew, then he said, "...Claire, you've already had eight shots."
"An unlucky number, nine's better, now pour it before I put a hex on this place and turn all your bourbon ta saspa'rilla." Unclear as to the the true extent of the woman's magic, Walter hastily poured the shot and slid it to her. A veined hand came out of her crumpled coat and caught it. She probably would have caught it as easily, the bartender considered, had he hurled it at her through the air.
"You've got a good soul, Walter?"
"How's that, mam."
Instead of answering the old witch threw back her shot and asked suddenly, "Walter? You were at Petersburg, weren't ya?"
"...Yes, mam, I lost half my regiment there."
"So you remember the Lights."
"I'll never forget them... It was the night right after the first battle, some of the men they thought it twas the Almighty. But a friend of mine, from the 6th Maine, he cued me in."
"Aurora Borealis." By some miracle, Claire managed to pronounce it perfectly despite her drunkeness.
"Yes, that's the word alright, they see it all the time up North but..."
"Your friend was wrong."
"What...?"
"He was wrong. It wasn't the aurora you were seeing, Pace, they was souls."
"Souls..."
"Mmmhm. Them was the souls of all yer dead friends.. and enemies," she twiddled her fingers up through the air, "drifting up through the sky to go, well,...wherever the hell the dead go. Course normally ya don't see it, ya see, one or two souls make no more light than a candle 'cross an ocean, but with as many killed in that day in Petersburg... not even nature herself had forseen such a day as that.... Was beautiful though wasn't it."
Walter stood quietly a moment, his thoughts elsewhere, his left eye as glazed as the fake orb in his right, "...yes...yes it was."
"What jha make of that, Walter."
"Make'a what, mam."
"That so much beauty can be born out of so much suffering and death?"
"I don't know, mam, I guess I feel better. Its like the preachers say, 'God has a plan.'"
"Not me," Claire Crawley grumbled, "makes me want to stick a cigar in the creators eye and give it'a twist." She slowly got up from her stool and began her shamble towards the door. "A'course that's the difference between us, Walter. You see the glass half full and I see it half empty." Her hand gestured to the shot glass and the bartender reluctantly gave it one more pour. "Thankee," said the witch drinking it up and slamming it down. Outside a series of gunshots rose over the regular racket of town, "now if'n you'll excuse me."
"Be careful, Claire."
"Mr. Pace how indeed do you think I got this old?... On second thought," she added before letting the doors swing shut behind her, "don't answer that."
The old Union sergeant crossed his arms across his wide barrel chest, they barely reached, "Don't you think you've had enough there Ms. Crawley."
"Done ya Ms. Crawley me, ya sack'a spuds."
Using his one good eye, Walter looked down the bar at a women who could have been his grandmother, even his great grandmother. He wondered for a moment how old the witch really was, certainly no one in Stillriver knew, then he said, "...Claire, you've already had eight shots."
"An unlucky number, nine's better, now pour it before I put a hex on this place and turn all your bourbon ta saspa'rilla." Unclear as to the the true extent of the woman's magic, Walter hastily poured the shot and slid it to her. A veined hand came out of her crumpled coat and caught it. She probably would have caught it as easily, the bartender considered, had he hurled it at her through the air.
"You've got a good soul, Walter?"
"How's that, mam."
Instead of answering the old witch threw back her shot and asked suddenly, "Walter? You were at Petersburg, weren't ya?"
"...Yes, mam, I lost half my regiment there."
"So you remember the Lights."
"I'll never forget them... It was the night right after the first battle, some of the men they thought it twas the Almighty. But a friend of mine, from the 6th Maine, he cued me in."
"Aurora Borealis." By some miracle, Claire managed to pronounce it perfectly despite her drunkeness.
"Yes, that's the word alright, they see it all the time up North but..."
"Your friend was wrong."
"What...?"
"He was wrong. It wasn't the aurora you were seeing, Pace, they was souls."
"Souls..."
"Mmmhm. Them was the souls of all yer dead friends.. and enemies," she twiddled her fingers up through the air, "drifting up through the sky to go, well,...wherever the hell the dead go. Course normally ya don't see it, ya see, one or two souls make no more light than a candle 'cross an ocean, but with as many killed in that day in Petersburg... not even nature herself had forseen such a day as that.... Was beautiful though wasn't it."
Walter stood quietly a moment, his thoughts elsewhere, his left eye as glazed as the fake orb in his right, "...yes...yes it was."
"What jha make of that, Walter."
"Make'a what, mam."
"That so much beauty can be born out of so much suffering and death?"
"I don't know, mam, I guess I feel better. Its like the preachers say, 'God has a plan.'"
"Not me," Claire Crawley grumbled, "makes me want to stick a cigar in the creators eye and give it'a twist." She slowly got up from her stool and began her shamble towards the door. "A'course that's the difference between us, Walter. You see the glass half full and I see it half empty." Her hand gestured to the shot glass and the bartender reluctantly gave it one more pour. "Thankee," said the witch drinking it up and slamming it down. Outside a series of gunshots rose over the regular racket of town, "now if'n you'll excuse me."
"Be careful, Claire."
"Mr. Pace how indeed do you think I got this old?... On second thought," she added before letting the doors swing shut behind her, "don't answer that."
The setting changes from Number Eight Saloon to Main Street
Setting
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Mariana walked her horse into Stillriver, leading her by her bridle. One of Mariana's hand was placed lightly on the other side of Jackie's faced.
"Well ol' girl looks as though Stillriver is just that, a still river," Mariana whispered to Jackie as she looked around, the place was quiet and tired. Everyone must have been saloon or tavern, but there was close to no one on the main street. She felt something odd cross the breeze, a sinking feeling in her gut that something was about to awaken this river into a rapid. She quickly, and loosely, tied Jackie to one of the railings outside of the saloon. There was an empty barrel close by and Mariana lifted herself onto it, getting herself comfortable for the heat of the day cat nap. She stuck a blade of sweet grass in between her lips and started chewing on the end, letting her hands rest behind her head. She kept her eyes open though, that gut feeling that something was going to happen kept her from closing them.
A man that was walking by must have noticed her and apparently too thought she was some new girl from the Haartvelt House. He wolf whistled at her making her squint his way. He smiled, very friendly and walked towards her. He walked onto the wooden deck behind her.
"Well, well, well, what do we have 'ere?" the man said, his breath stank tobacco and whiskey, "A beau'ful young lady."
"Leave me alone," Mariana scowled ahead.
"Now don' be like tha' darlin'," he said coming closer to her, leaning behind her on the railing to her left.
"Leave me alone," she repeated, she stiffened as she could hear his clothes rustling. He placed a hand on her opposite shoulder, pulling her in close so that she could taste his breath. She grimaced.
"Come now, I'm not a bad guy. Trust me, we can rent a room from at the House for the evenin' an-" he was cut off as she roughly shoved him to into the middle of Main Street. She pulled out her revolver and shot two warning shots at his feet and one into his shoulder.
"Now I said leave me alone!" she yelled. The guy had pulled out his gun too and with a grunt of pain pointed it at Mariana. Mariana slyly placed one of her Sun Speed bullets into the her gun, pointing it at him. Her face was stern and full of what was rage, her eyes danced like the flames of forest fire and her heart beat was like that of a Native American drum during a war chant.
"You lil' skank!" the man shouted at her, looking at the blood pouring from his shoulder, "I offer you a place for the nigh' an' this is how ya repay me?"
"It's how I repay those men low 'nough to try me," Mariana answered, "It's my deb' to society to squash ou' the vermin of humankin', an' you sir, are one of those vermin". She cocked her gun and lifted it, aiming for the man's head. "I'll make this as pai'ful as I can."
"Well ol' girl looks as though Stillriver is just that, a still river," Mariana whispered to Jackie as she looked around, the place was quiet and tired. Everyone must have been saloon or tavern, but there was close to no one on the main street. She felt something odd cross the breeze, a sinking feeling in her gut that something was about to awaken this river into a rapid. She quickly, and loosely, tied Jackie to one of the railings outside of the saloon. There was an empty barrel close by and Mariana lifted herself onto it, getting herself comfortable for the heat of the day cat nap. She stuck a blade of sweet grass in between her lips and started chewing on the end, letting her hands rest behind her head. She kept her eyes open though, that gut feeling that something was going to happen kept her from closing them.
A man that was walking by must have noticed her and apparently too thought she was some new girl from the Haartvelt House. He wolf whistled at her making her squint his way. He smiled, very friendly and walked towards her. He walked onto the wooden deck behind her.
"Well, well, well, what do we have 'ere?" the man said, his breath stank tobacco and whiskey, "A beau'ful young lady."
"Leave me alone," Mariana scowled ahead.
"Now don' be like tha' darlin'," he said coming closer to her, leaning behind her on the railing to her left.
"Leave me alone," she repeated, she stiffened as she could hear his clothes rustling. He placed a hand on her opposite shoulder, pulling her in close so that she could taste his breath. She grimaced.
"Come now, I'm not a bad guy. Trust me, we can rent a room from at the House for the evenin' an-" he was cut off as she roughly shoved him to into the middle of Main Street. She pulled out her revolver and shot two warning shots at his feet and one into his shoulder.
"Now I said leave me alone!" she yelled. The guy had pulled out his gun too and with a grunt of pain pointed it at Mariana. Mariana slyly placed one of her Sun Speed bullets into the her gun, pointing it at him. Her face was stern and full of what was rage, her eyes danced like the flames of forest fire and her heart beat was like that of a Native American drum during a war chant.
"You lil' skank!" the man shouted at her, looking at the blood pouring from his shoulder, "I offer you a place for the nigh' an' this is how ya repay me?"
"It's how I repay those men low 'nough to try me," Mariana answered, "It's my deb' to society to squash ou' the vermin of humankin', an' you sir, are one of those vermin". She cocked her gun and lifted it, aiming for the man's head. "I'll make this as pai'ful as I can."
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Jeckteth was fiddling with something on a general stores roof , small grains of whiten powder. He was sitting off the end of the roofs sign and what would be called a hand in his current state seemed to be almost trying to stick the white grains together. With a huff his shadowy form twisted and turned as he looked down at the street below. A crow was making it's nest behind him on the roof and he twiddled his fingers , calling it over "Down there , the female with the horse." The crow cawed and Jeckteth huffed again "You're right , she looks to peacefull.....Hold on a moment now."
Jeckteth laughed , deciding to ooze down slightly , the shadowy blob that was what any mortal could make of his spirit form almost seemed to be leaning in his seat as a large man apraoched the girl "Okay , protection offer?" The crow cawed again and Jeckteth laughed "No , no. Not for -her-." As soon as the scuffle whent down Jeckteth giggled happily , the eerie laugh being carried away on the wind "For -him-. He seems stupid enough to put up his entire jaw bone just to get even with her."
Giving another huff Jeckteth picked up the white grains and put them in to his form before sliding off the roof and on too the ground , his crow companion gave another quick 'caw' before jumping back to its nest. Floating along the ground Jeckteth finnaly made his way to the man on the ground , already bleeding and lazily pointing his gun up at the girl from before "I could help , you know. I could make sure she does not bother anyone anymore~." Jeckteth twirled around the man , his smokey form stopping shortly after as he grumbled too himself "Another blind mortal ignorant of the spirits around him. A shame." Jeckteth walked through the man , leaving him trembling from the sudden cold feeling "I could have gotten such a good payment from him."
Jeckteth laughed , deciding to ooze down slightly , the shadowy blob that was what any mortal could make of his spirit form almost seemed to be leaning in his seat as a large man apraoched the girl "Okay , protection offer?" The crow cawed again and Jeckteth laughed "No , no. Not for -her-." As soon as the scuffle whent down Jeckteth giggled happily , the eerie laugh being carried away on the wind "For -him-. He seems stupid enough to put up his entire jaw bone just to get even with her."
Giving another huff Jeckteth picked up the white grains and put them in to his form before sliding off the roof and on too the ground , his crow companion gave another quick 'caw' before jumping back to its nest. Floating along the ground Jeckteth finnaly made his way to the man on the ground , already bleeding and lazily pointing his gun up at the girl from before "I could help , you know. I could make sure she does not bother anyone anymore~." Jeckteth twirled around the man , his smokey form stopping shortly after as he grumbled too himself "Another blind mortal ignorant of the spirits around him. A shame." Jeckteth walked through the man , leaving him trembling from the sudden cold feeling "I could have gotten such a good payment from him."
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Without warning the revolver sprang from the man's hand in a shower of sparks. The sound of gunshots lead across the street to where Claire Crawly stood leaning against a pole, a pistol barrel peaking between the folds of her duster. "Lukas, you're being stupider than usual, this'n aint no whore." The gun swiveled to the woman, "are you deary? Now I done know where you got your star, but in my day it din' mean you could sentence a man ta death for not but bein' a fool. Holster it and let the young fool be on his way, life will teach'm more painful lessons than yur bullets can anyhow."
The setting changes from Main Street to The Frontier
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The Frontier, untamed and wild where the critters go by and where the West is lawless. Various mines can be discovered along with with certain mills, and sometimes you see large grazing land for the cattle. Where bandits can more or less jump a man if one weren't prepared for the ambushes.
Sometimes, drifters are abound. One such drifter was wandering through the plains, walking through the land like he never knew where to settle. he wore a black hat too keep his face shaded, he stood at five foot nine as he wandered with his pack on his back and his six shooters at his sides. He didn't have money to afford a even a mule. He didn't know where fate would lead him, and he didn't really much care, for sometimes a drfiter's background is a sad and lonely life, fraught with dangers of being kicked out of every town for no ordinary good reason.
The Stranger paused as he looked out on the open plains, trying to see if there was any town in sight. Sighing with the unsatisfactory denial of such he took a swig of water and continued onwards, hoping to get to a town before nightfall.
Sometimes, drifters are abound. One such drifter was wandering through the plains, walking through the land like he never knew where to settle. he wore a black hat too keep his face shaded, he stood at five foot nine as he wandered with his pack on his back and his six shooters at his sides. He didn't have money to afford a even a mule. He didn't know where fate would lead him, and he didn't really much care, for sometimes a drfiter's background is a sad and lonely life, fraught with dangers of being kicked out of every town for no ordinary good reason.
The Stranger paused as he looked out on the open plains, trying to see if there was any town in sight. Sighing with the unsatisfactory denial of such he took a swig of water and continued onwards, hoping to get to a town before nightfall.
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Mariana huffed quietly and put her revolver away.
"My star ain't my means of killin' a man," she muttered to herself. She glared at the guy, still full of anger at being touched. So she marched up to him and punched him hard in the nose, breaking it instantly. She spit at the ground next to him and walked back to Jackie and ultimately the lady who calmed the scene down.
She sat back on her barrel and absentmindedly petted Jackie's nose. She glanced up at the rugged woman, she looked frail, yet strong and was covered completely by an over sized coat. Her hair was white and greasy and her face was perfectly aligned with the Natives' description of one "White Crow".
"You're White Crow aren' ya?" Mariana said, still petting Jackie who was drinking from another barrel that was full of water.
"My star ain't my means of killin' a man," she muttered to herself. She glared at the guy, still full of anger at being touched. So she marched up to him and punched him hard in the nose, breaking it instantly. She spit at the ground next to him and walked back to Jackie and ultimately the lady who calmed the scene down.
She sat back on her barrel and absentmindedly petted Jackie's nose. She glanced up at the rugged woman, she looked frail, yet strong and was covered completely by an over sized coat. Her hair was white and greasy and her face was perfectly aligned with the Natives' description of one "White Crow".
"You're White Crow aren' ya?" Mariana said, still petting Jackie who was drinking from another barrel that was full of water.
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Jeckteth swirled around the now writhing in pain man , laughing happily as he cluched his broken nose "Ahahaha , Mortals do entertain if nothing else." When he caught wind of the name 'white crow' he huffed towards the old woman , gliding through the air too her and swirling around her feet in his smoke like form "This one is the white witch? No , the storys dont match. Where is her robes and stave? Her firmiliar? No no no , just another old Mortal shuffling among the physical plain."
Unknown to Jeckteth his words were heard by any gifted with magic , he was not firmiliar with what a 'witch' actually looked like so he had no idea that he was being seen inspecting the two women , for that matter he did not even know anyone could hear him. "What if she -is- a witch? Witchs love knowledge and power , they must be willing to trade for something....Yes , perhaps I can get a contract today yet." Jeckteths smokey form hovered in the air , it felt like unscene eyes in his spiritual form were staring at between the two women , trying to figure out how to deal with them before announcing himself.
Unknown to Jeckteth his words were heard by any gifted with magic , he was not firmiliar with what a 'witch' actually looked like so he had no idea that he was being seen inspecting the two women , for that matter he did not even know anyone could hear him. "What if she -is- a witch? Witchs love knowledge and power , they must be willing to trade for something....Yes , perhaps I can get a contract today yet." Jeckteths smokey form hovered in the air , it felt like unscene eyes in his spiritual form were staring at between the two women , trying to figure out how to deal with them before announcing himself.
The setting changes from The Frontier to Stillriver
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The wandering Stranger eventually came upon a town and eventually reaching the outskirts of it he gave it a look-see to see how it's like. He didn't know where he was nor what was his next move, but one thing was for certain, he'd probably find some good food, a soft pillow to sleep on, and a nice shave and a hot bath. He definitely would want to get along just fine, all he had to do though was find employment if he wanted to stay, so he started walking.
However the days of wandering finally got to his legs and after the first few steps he collapsed slightly from the exhaustion of just plain wandering and the discovery of a town to resupply himself in. He gave his legs a stretch or two before getting back up and walking into the busy town. He could tell it was incredibly busy due to well, a whole ton of six-shooters just going off left and right. This seemed to catch his eye a bit.
"Well, time to see how it goes." was all the stranger said as he kept walking.
However the days of wandering finally got to his legs and after the first few steps he collapsed slightly from the exhaustion of just plain wandering and the discovery of a town to resupply himself in. He gave his legs a stretch or two before getting back up and walking into the busy town. He could tell it was incredibly busy due to well, a whole ton of six-shooters just going off left and right. This seemed to catch his eye a bit.
"Well, time to see how it goes." was all the stranger said as he kept walking.
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"Robyn?" the boy's voice stirred Robyn from her thoughts, and she turned her head to face her brother. Their horses were going at a steady pace, him on his chestnut stallion, her on her dun mare. "Yes, Samson?" she asked. His face looked troubled. "I'm worried."
"What about?"
"Well, other witches. What will they think of me?" he was clearly spooked after the incident in the last town they stayed in.
"Samson, if you keep you hood up and your head down, I am sure it will be alright." he didn't look convinced.
"If mother was here, she would protect us."
She pulled her horse to a stop next to his, and reached out to grasp his pentacle gently. "you see this?" he nodded. "This was our mothers. As long as it is yours, she is with you. With us both." he nodded, smiling gently, and she ruffled his hair. After about two more minutes of riding, they reached the town, tied up their horses, and Samson put his hood up, hiding his features. Only the ends of his reddish-brown hair showed.
"What about?"
"Well, other witches. What will they think of me?" he was clearly spooked after the incident in the last town they stayed in.
"Samson, if you keep you hood up and your head down, I am sure it will be alright." he didn't look convinced.
"If mother was here, she would protect us."
She pulled her horse to a stop next to his, and reached out to grasp his pentacle gently. "you see this?" he nodded. "This was our mothers. As long as it is yours, she is with you. With us both." he nodded, smiling gently, and she ruffled his hair. After about two more minutes of riding, they reached the town, tied up their horses, and Samson put his hood up, hiding his features. Only the ends of his reddish-brown hair showed.
The setting changes from Stillriver to The Frontier
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Mainstreet Stillriver
"I been called that," the old woman replied sliding her revolver back into its holster. Her eyes narrowed as they followed Lukas crawling. scurrying, and finally running away. "If you've come to Stillriver looking for trouble, you done found it. That heap'a cow dung may not be so dangerous by his lonesome, but he works for Edmund Thane. Probably was tryin' ta scout you to work at the Starlight." Claire's eyes hardened. "Regular slave gang he runs over there," she spit into the dust before her tired eyes returned to the young witch, "be careful." She turned to leave, but something seemed to catch her attention. Stopping for a moment she sniffed the air like a coyote before breakfast then muttered something about, 'bad blood bringing bad spirits.'
"I been called that," the old woman replied sliding her revolver back into its holster. Her eyes narrowed as they followed Lukas crawling. scurrying, and finally running away. "If you've come to Stillriver looking for trouble, you done found it. That heap'a cow dung may not be so dangerous by his lonesome, but he works for Edmund Thane. Probably was tryin' ta scout you to work at the Starlight." Claire's eyes hardened. "Regular slave gang he runs over there," she spit into the dust before her tired eyes returned to the young witch, "be careful." She turned to leave, but something seemed to catch her attention. Stopping for a moment she sniffed the air like a coyote before breakfast then muttered something about, 'bad blood bringing bad spirits.'
The setting changes from The Frontier to Main Street
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The Stranger looked around the noisy town trying to find out where either the bar or the hotel was, when suddenly he saw a man run by with a broken nose. He shrugged it off as he walked down the street, half wondering what there was to do. His memories suddenly flooded to the time his father took him to another town years ago.
He remembered that it was a good town and nothing more, but the noise and bustle of this town was a bit more unfriendly. He would never know exactly when a critter would somehow ambush him. While he was reminiscing however a small town thief started to sneak up behind him like a rattlesnake out for the kill. The thief silently drew his pistol and pulled back the hammer, making an audible clicking noise.
The stranger heard that however and he whipped around drawing one of his pistols and shot the gun right out of the thief's hand and then gave him a swift kick in his jewels. "Nice, but not silent enough." was all the stranger said as he headed for the Saloon.
He remembered that it was a good town and nothing more, but the noise and bustle of this town was a bit more unfriendly. He would never know exactly when a critter would somehow ambush him. While he was reminiscing however a small town thief started to sneak up behind him like a rattlesnake out for the kill. The thief silently drew his pistol and pulled back the hammer, making an audible clicking noise.
The stranger heard that however and he whipped around drawing one of his pistols and shot the gun right out of the thief's hand and then gave him a swift kick in his jewels. "Nice, but not silent enough." was all the stranger said as he headed for the Saloon.
The setting changes from Main Street to Stillriver
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"Edmund Thanes follower....heh." Jeckteths last words were scattered on the wind like the rest of what he spoke. Like a forgotten language spoken to anyone listencing. After fluttering around the horse called 'jackie' and spooking him quiet a bit he hovered off with a cackle , following the broken down and injured Lukas intell he was alone , ditched down a alley to hide away and rub his wounds. Jeckteths first chance at richs since he came to the city.
The shadows of the alley seemed to crawl away from Lukas , like they were terrafide of his very presence and as a passing wind kicked dirty sand in to the air it was clear why. For the first time in awhile Jeckteth had taken physical shape. His hat , long , pointed , dusty , old and slung forward to hide his face was what Lukas saw first. As he walked down the alley Jackteth whistled , the tune was dark and disturbing , giving him a much needed air of horror.
As he came to Lukas he raised a hand and wiggled his fingers towards him with a echoing giggle , like a small childs laugh "You know , you really do deserve better then that. A simple -whore- treating a man like yourself with such disrespect. Even the old crone spat at your honor , planning to just let them get away with that?" Lukas was scowling , huffing his chest and throwing a solid punch at Jeckteths face.
Lukas was soon wide eyed , scared too the point of being frozen as he finnaly saw what he had hit. His fist was stuck to the crooked wide shark toothed grin on the shadows face , his hat had fluttered to the ground from the hit and his dead eyes , shadowy features and stiff hair were all visable now "I can help you if you want....For a price of course."
Lukas simply screamed at Jeckteth , shouting off about demons and trying to scurry away as Jeckteth grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back "Now now , surely mr.Thane doesn't need such cowards. I am simply offering you a deal....give me , lets say....your jaw and two fingers. When you die from what ever kills you , I will collect them. Not a moment sooner." Lukas was calming down slightly , something about Jeckteths words were sweet and entrancing , he couldn't -not- listence to him.
"In exchange i'll give you the speed and accuracy of a true gun man." After a few moments of explanation and a acceptance of the deal (After saying Jeckteth would fix up Lukas nose and arm anyways) Jeckteth stuck his hand against the mans chest , leaving his mark on Lukas' soul before he picked up his hat , bowed his head and walked back out of the alley whistling the same dark tune "Give it an hour , I promise by then you will be able to outshoot even the quickest man in this town."
As Jeckteth rounded the corner he gasped and dissapeared again , turning back in to his spiritual form and laughing too himself "Shame the quickest shooters here are women. Should have read the fine print I sapose." Jeckteth laughed , going back to his shop roof and digging through his form for his 'charm'. A link to the physical realm and a very powerfull and dangerouse item. Owning one ment controle of the spirit it belonged to , not to mention the incredible magical properys they held and in Jeckteths case it was a wind charm made of rib bones from varuise....'donors'. "One hour and he will have his power. One day and I will have my payment...Idiots always die quick afterall." Jeckteth giggled again , performing his rite in secret as he thought of the fun he was about to have.
The shadows of the alley seemed to crawl away from Lukas , like they were terrafide of his very presence and as a passing wind kicked dirty sand in to the air it was clear why. For the first time in awhile Jeckteth had taken physical shape. His hat , long , pointed , dusty , old and slung forward to hide his face was what Lukas saw first. As he walked down the alley Jackteth whistled , the tune was dark and disturbing , giving him a much needed air of horror.
As he came to Lukas he raised a hand and wiggled his fingers towards him with a echoing giggle , like a small childs laugh "You know , you really do deserve better then that. A simple -whore- treating a man like yourself with such disrespect. Even the old crone spat at your honor , planning to just let them get away with that?" Lukas was scowling , huffing his chest and throwing a solid punch at Jeckteths face.
Lukas was soon wide eyed , scared too the point of being frozen as he finnaly saw what he had hit. His fist was stuck to the crooked wide shark toothed grin on the shadows face , his hat had fluttered to the ground from the hit and his dead eyes , shadowy features and stiff hair were all visable now "I can help you if you want....For a price of course."
Lukas simply screamed at Jeckteth , shouting off about demons and trying to scurry away as Jeckteth grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back "Now now , surely mr.Thane doesn't need such cowards. I am simply offering you a deal....give me , lets say....your jaw and two fingers. When you die from what ever kills you , I will collect them. Not a moment sooner." Lukas was calming down slightly , something about Jeckteths words were sweet and entrancing , he couldn't -not- listence to him.
"In exchange i'll give you the speed and accuracy of a true gun man." After a few moments of explanation and a acceptance of the deal (After saying Jeckteth would fix up Lukas nose and arm anyways) Jeckteth stuck his hand against the mans chest , leaving his mark on Lukas' soul before he picked up his hat , bowed his head and walked back out of the alley whistling the same dark tune "Give it an hour , I promise by then you will be able to outshoot even the quickest man in this town."
As Jeckteth rounded the corner he gasped and dissapeared again , turning back in to his spiritual form and laughing too himself "Shame the quickest shooters here are women. Should have read the fine print I sapose." Jeckteth laughed , going back to his shop roof and digging through his form for his 'charm'. A link to the physical realm and a very powerfull and dangerouse item. Owning one ment controle of the spirit it belonged to , not to mention the incredible magical properys they held and in Jeckteths case it was a wind charm made of rib bones from varuise....'donors'. "One hour and he will have his power. One day and I will have my payment...Idiots always die quick afterall." Jeckteth giggled again , performing his rite in secret as he thought of the fun he was about to have.
The setting changes from Stillriver to Main Street
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Jackie began to back away quickly, her head shaking in agitation while grunting and neighing. She gave one big tug and started to back up and about to run, but Mariana jumped off her barrel and grabbed her bridle before she could take off. She put a gentle hand on her horse's velvety nose.
"Easy girl, shh, shhh," she said. The horse began to breath normally again and nuzzled her face, Mariana laughed, "Damn spirits, gave ya a scare didn't they?" She lead her horse back to the front of the saloon and tied her loosely again to the railing. But this time instead of going onto her perch she stayed standing, still petting and comforting Jackie.
She looked back to the White Crow, "Well then it's a good thing I'll be leavin' soon," she said. When she felt that Jackie had calmed enough she stepped up towards the saloon. "This a good place for a drink?" she asked.
"Easy girl, shh, shhh," she said. The horse began to breath normally again and nuzzled her face, Mariana laughed, "Damn spirits, gave ya a scare didn't they?" She lead her horse back to the front of the saloon and tied her loosely again to the railing. But this time instead of going onto her perch she stayed standing, still petting and comforting Jackie.
She looked back to the White Crow, "Well then it's a good thing I'll be leavin' soon," she said. When she felt that Jackie had calmed enough she stepped up towards the saloon. "This a good place for a drink?" she asked.
The setting changes from Main Street to The Frontier
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Jonathan looked around the small part of town in which he was situated. The walls were old, dull browns which kinda depressed him a little. The floor was a bland dust path. His gun was still drawn. Jonathan flicked his shoulder length brown hair out of his dull grey eyes. A bullet whizzed past his face. He crouched behind the wall and sneaked a quick peek. He saw the man he was looking for standing there with his gun at the ready. He finally noticed Jonathan looking round and aimed at the partial face in his eye line. Jonathan moved and the edge of the wall he was leaning against exploded beside him.
"That's it...no more playing around..." Jonathan checked how many bullets he had left. There were three. Two of which were seekers, the other was a subtle. He closed the gun and readied it while standing up. Jonathan thought back to the man.
[i]He's shot at me three times now and his gun is a six shooter so as long as I work off his other two bullets and then use the subtle blast then it should knock both bullet and target of course...gotta try it...[ /i] Jonathan nodded to himself and stepped out and fired his first Seeker Bullet. The man shot his bullet too. Jonathan's seeker flew towards the man's bullet and they collided with a satisfying thud. They both fired their next bullet. They collided terrifyingly closer to Jonathan. Jonathan fired his last bullet while walking up to the man. The blast sent both the man's bullet and the man into the air and he landed about a meter from where he once stood. The blast also made the gun in Jonathan's hand fly above his head from the recoil. He lowered it and put it in it's holster. Pulling out his whip he moved closer to the man. The guy was still alive but unconscious.
Jonathan smiled and grabbed the guy by the ankle and dragged him through town. A few people looked over at him but he had covered his face with some fabric and was wearing clothes he normally didn't wear. They arrived at the sheriff and Jonathan left the guy leaning against a post before firing his second gun and spinning to the side and running to the alley way which lead back to his house in a confusing way. Not to him obviously though.
(OOC: This will all be explained in the not so distant future.)
"That's it...no more playing around..." Jonathan checked how many bullets he had left. There were three. Two of which were seekers, the other was a subtle. He closed the gun and readied it while standing up. Jonathan thought back to the man.
[i]He's shot at me three times now and his gun is a six shooter so as long as I work off his other two bullets and then use the subtle blast then it should knock both bullet and target of course...gotta try it...[ /i] Jonathan nodded to himself and stepped out and fired his first Seeker Bullet. The man shot his bullet too. Jonathan's seeker flew towards the man's bullet and they collided with a satisfying thud. They both fired their next bullet. They collided terrifyingly closer to Jonathan. Jonathan fired his last bullet while walking up to the man. The blast sent both the man's bullet and the man into the air and he landed about a meter from where he once stood. The blast also made the gun in Jonathan's hand fly above his head from the recoil. He lowered it and put it in it's holster. Pulling out his whip he moved closer to the man. The guy was still alive but unconscious.
Jonathan smiled and grabbed the guy by the ankle and dragged him through town. A few people looked over at him but he had covered his face with some fabric and was wearing clothes he normally didn't wear. They arrived at the sheriff and Jonathan left the guy leaning against a post before firing his second gun and spinning to the side and running to the alley way which lead back to his house in a confusing way. Not to him obviously though.
(OOC: This will all be explained in the not so distant future.)
The setting changes from The Frontier to Number Eight Saloon
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Samson froze in fear when he saw the amount of magik being used. He looked up at Robyn, who smiled gently, and cupped his chin with one hand. "Don' worry 'bout it. Ah'm sure these witches, they'll not give ya any trouble." he nodded uncertanly, and they walked into the Saloon. A few conversations hushed, and almost every person looked first at Robyn, noticing the pentacle, then at Samson, though they could not see his face. One old man wheezed audibly to his companion, "Jeez, sendin' 'em to t' devil young, in't they?" Robyn froze, then walked smoothly over to the man. Here would be no need for magik. She leaned down, and whispered against his ear in a voice only made more deadly by the calmness. "If you believe that I am a servant of Lucifer himself, then, please tell me. How can I stand to have silver against my skin? As we all know, silver is a holy metal, and burns demons. So if I hear you insulting my companion or me again, there will be consequences" she stood back up, took her brother by the shoulder, and they sat down in a corner.
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The drifting stranger walked to the bar and looked at the bartender, Mr. Walter Pace. "Beer, and a bottle?" he asked in a small confused way. Walter prepared the brew as he shook his head.
"Well it may not be good, but it's how it is. Here you go pardner." Walter told the young man as he slid the glass to him. The Stranger caught it with his right hand. The hand was thin and the muscles seemed like the man's frame was wiry. His green eyes almost looked like they pierced into a man's soul faster then a rattler's eyes would.
"Would just like a peaceful hour to drink it in." was all the Stranger said as he started to sip and eventually drink from the cup. Bystanders think that though the man was a stranger to the town they believe that most drifters, unless somehow they were nice decent folk and not as rugged as the Stranger, was bad luck.
The Stranger looked around the Saloon with a sigh, he knew that he probably wouldn't expect a warm welcome even from other ordinary folk. If something bad happened and he got falsely blamed for it, he knew how to run for it.
"Well it may not be good, but it's how it is. Here you go pardner." Walter told the young man as he slid the glass to him. The Stranger caught it with his right hand. The hand was thin and the muscles seemed like the man's frame was wiry. His green eyes almost looked like they pierced into a man's soul faster then a rattler's eyes would.
"Would just like a peaceful hour to drink it in." was all the Stranger said as he started to sip and eventually drink from the cup. Bystanders think that though the man was a stranger to the town they believe that most drifters, unless somehow they were nice decent folk and not as rugged as the Stranger, was bad luck.
The Stranger looked around the Saloon with a sigh, he knew that he probably wouldn't expect a warm welcome even from other ordinary folk. If something bad happened and he got falsely blamed for it, he knew how to run for it.
The setting changes from Number Eight Saloon to Main Street
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Claire eyed the other witch carefully before saying, "Number Eight," she gestured to the narrow building squeezed between a livery and a whore house. "Oh and remember if those thugs come looking for ya in there, don't shoot up the place. Walters still paying off the bill from the last fight."
The setting changes from Main Street to Starlight Stage and Tavern
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Lukas ignored the protests and burst through the doors. He advanced on the tub in the center of the room dribbling blood as he came. Facing him, the back of Mr. Thane's head leaned gently against the porcelain rim. Lukas couldn't see his mouth move when he spoke, "slow down there."
"I'm sorry boss but ya gotta understand."
"I ain't talkin' to you, you half wit." Lukas came round the side of the tub to see one of the girls submerged in the water round Thane's waist. "I trust this is of the...utmost importance."
"Its about the witch."
Thane laughed and gestured to the whore in the water with him, "I have more to fear'a her than that spent crone."
"Not Crow, some other witch, a stranger."
Thane suddenly slid up straight, "we'll finish this at a later date then sugar," he gave her ass a parting smack and turned back to Lukas, "tell me about this new bitch."
"Well I don know sir, there's nuthin much to tell, she knocked me down in the street, drew on me, fer nothin' mor'an takin' uh shining to'er."
"Hmmm you said she was ready to plug you just for being yerself."
"Yesir."
"Well as understandable a compulsion as that is it doesn't bode well for my little operation here. A witch like that so much as pokes her nose in here and we'll all be dancing on silver."
"It's alright boss, I can gun'er down for ye."
"You," Thane slapped the water as he laughed spraying Lukas and the floor with suds, "out gun a witch?! Lukas I never noted imagination as one of your qualities."
"But I heard a spirit talking to me..."
"Lukas I don't care if Jesus Christ told ya to gun down those heathens, we're going to do this my way... First thing's first, change the performance for tonight to something more... upstanding."
"Mud Fighting?..."
Thane looked at him as if he were a dog trying to speak, "no not mud fighting you ignorant cunt... drama, tell Flannigan to work out the details something... Shakespearean."
"What about me boss?.."
"You, are going to go down to the printers and get fliers made up, throw'em up all over town. Have'em say," he spread his arms in the manner of some great showman, "Bard comes to Stillriver.... all beer half price... Oh and Lukas," he added standing up out of the tub, "you stay away from that witch." The henchmen nodded nervously, trying to avert his eyes from the sight below. "Stay away from her or I'll tell her you raped one of the girls, then we'll see what she does to you."
Lukas left with a grumble, thoughts of revenge continuing to percolate below his thick skull.
"I'm sorry boss but ya gotta understand."
"I ain't talkin' to you, you half wit." Lukas came round the side of the tub to see one of the girls submerged in the water round Thane's waist. "I trust this is of the...utmost importance."
"Its about the witch."
Thane laughed and gestured to the whore in the water with him, "I have more to fear'a her than that spent crone."
"Not Crow, some other witch, a stranger."
Thane suddenly slid up straight, "we'll finish this at a later date then sugar," he gave her ass a parting smack and turned back to Lukas, "tell me about this new bitch."
"Well I don know sir, there's nuthin much to tell, she knocked me down in the street, drew on me, fer nothin' mor'an takin' uh shining to'er."
"Hmmm you said she was ready to plug you just for being yerself."
"Yesir."
"Well as understandable a compulsion as that is it doesn't bode well for my little operation here. A witch like that so much as pokes her nose in here and we'll all be dancing on silver."
"It's alright boss, I can gun'er down for ye."
"You," Thane slapped the water as he laughed spraying Lukas and the floor with suds, "out gun a witch?! Lukas I never noted imagination as one of your qualities."
"But I heard a spirit talking to me..."
"Lukas I don't care if Jesus Christ told ya to gun down those heathens, we're going to do this my way... First thing's first, change the performance for tonight to something more... upstanding."
"Mud Fighting?..."
Thane looked at him as if he were a dog trying to speak, "no not mud fighting you ignorant cunt... drama, tell Flannigan to work out the details something... Shakespearean."
"What about me boss?.."
"You, are going to go down to the printers and get fliers made up, throw'em up all over town. Have'em say," he spread his arms in the manner of some great showman, "Bard comes to Stillriver.... all beer half price... Oh and Lukas," he added standing up out of the tub, "you stay away from that witch." The henchmen nodded nervously, trying to avert his eyes from the sight below. "Stay away from her or I'll tell her you raped one of the girls, then we'll see what she does to you."
Lukas left with a grumble, thoughts of revenge continuing to percolate below his thick skull.
The setting changes from Starlight Stage and Tavern to The Frontier
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Number Eight Saloon
Mariana nodded and walked into the saloon. It was dark compared to outside, but her eyes adjusted quickly. She walked up to the bar, sitting a seat away from a wiry looking man.
"How c'n I help ya miss?" Walter said. She looked up, sweat dripping from her brow. She looked at the man sitting next to him and pointed with his chin.
"What he's havin'," she said. She put her elbows up on the counter and leaned forward, bowing her head as she let t cooler air sink in. As much as she loved to say out int the sun all day, it was nice to find a shaded place to drink. She heard the cup slid across the counter and lifted her head, catching it before it passed her. She began to down it, thirsty and hot. Not wanting to savor the taste and let the cold of the drink run away. As she downed it, she could feel surprised eyes from other costumers on the back of her head.
Walter laughed, "Well you must be thirsty," he said as she slammed the empty glass down, "Want another?" She just nodded and slid the empty glass over to him. She breathed and wiped some sweat away.
"So I'm guessin' yer the one that was causin' all that commotion out there?" he asked as he filled her glass again. She nodded. "Who was the unlucky feller?"
She shrugged, "Some freak who thought I was a whore," she answered, in a almost monotonous voice. Walter nodded and threw her second cup towards her which once again she began to down.
Mariana nodded and walked into the saloon. It was dark compared to outside, but her eyes adjusted quickly. She walked up to the bar, sitting a seat away from a wiry looking man.
"How c'n I help ya miss?" Walter said. She looked up, sweat dripping from her brow. She looked at the man sitting next to him and pointed with his chin.
"What he's havin'," she said. She put her elbows up on the counter and leaned forward, bowing her head as she let t cooler air sink in. As much as she loved to say out int the sun all day, it was nice to find a shaded place to drink. She heard the cup slid across the counter and lifted her head, catching it before it passed her. She began to down it, thirsty and hot. Not wanting to savor the taste and let the cold of the drink run away. As she downed it, she could feel surprised eyes from other costumers on the back of her head.
Walter laughed, "Well you must be thirsty," he said as she slammed the empty glass down, "Want another?" She just nodded and slid the empty glass over to him. She breathed and wiped some sweat away.
"So I'm guessin' yer the one that was causin' all that commotion out there?" he asked as he filled her glass again. She nodded. "Who was the unlucky feller?"
She shrugged, "Some freak who thought I was a whore," she answered, in a almost monotonous voice. Walter nodded and threw her second cup towards her which once again she began to down.
The setting changes from The Frontier to Number Eight Saloon
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The Stranger continued to drink his cup. He gave a friendly nod to the woman who sat next to him. He didn't want to cause trouble or nothing he just wanted to have some kind of small talk. "You know, when a woman drinks a beer that fast, that means that they're either just plum thirsty or don't like to get messed with." He said with a look that seemed relaxed. "Don't get me wrong I'm not looking for trouble, I just thought on finding some small conversation. I suppose however you don't like it when people talk so I'll hush up."
He quietly started to observe the inn once more and then there was some form of argument between two people and the words increased till suddenly the burlier bandit-type bully drew his six shooter. But before that gun even went to fire it's bullet another shot rang as the gun was knocked clean off the Burly man's hands.
The Stranger blew on the smoking barrel of his six shooter openly glaring at the bandit and his green eyes were really piercing into the burly one's, nearly scaring the poor vomit into taking a leak in his britches. "Try to shoot again I'll shoot to injure, or shoot to kill. That's your choice. Injury or death, that's your choice."
"Careful there son," Walter tried to warn him, "That there's Gunsmoke Paul, he works for-"
"Do I look like I give a damn?" was the reply that the Stranger gave. "This is why I ask for a peaceful hour to drink in my drink. Come on, you got killer in your eyes Pauly I can see it."
"Your funeral. By the way, what did you say your name was again?" Walter asked with curiosity in his voice.
"Name's Wilson. Damian Wilson." was all that the drifter had to say. He slowly placed his gun into his holster.
He quietly started to observe the inn once more and then there was some form of argument between two people and the words increased till suddenly the burlier bandit-type bully drew his six shooter. But before that gun even went to fire it's bullet another shot rang as the gun was knocked clean off the Burly man's hands.
The Stranger blew on the smoking barrel of his six shooter openly glaring at the bandit and his green eyes were really piercing into the burly one's, nearly scaring the poor vomit into taking a leak in his britches. "Try to shoot again I'll shoot to injure, or shoot to kill. That's your choice. Injury or death, that's your choice."
"Careful there son," Walter tried to warn him, "That there's Gunsmoke Paul, he works for-"
"Do I look like I give a damn?" was the reply that the Stranger gave. "This is why I ask for a peaceful hour to drink in my drink. Come on, you got killer in your eyes Pauly I can see it."
"Your funeral. By the way, what did you say your name was again?" Walter asked with curiosity in his voice.
"Name's Wilson. Damian Wilson." was all that the drifter had to say. He slowly placed his gun into his holster.
The setting changes from Number Eight Saloon to The Frontier
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Jonathan had changed and was now in his normal outfit.
(Along these lines)
He headed out of his home and in search of a beer. He looked up and saw the saloon sign. Entering the building he heard a gunshot but ignored it. He wasn't one to get involved in bar fights because then he would reveal his powers. Jonathan took a seat. He looked to his right and saw both a man and a woman. The man was putting away a gun.
So that's who shot... Jonathan thought back to that morning when he had chased the man. After three months of tracking him he finally found the man responsible. He was in jail and now there were only two left. He was getting closer.
"What'll you be havin' son?" Jonathan looked up at the bartender.
"A beer." Jonathan was fully loaded with all of his weapons, expecting one of the friends of the man he arrested to come after him. He had his two revolvers, each loaded with hexed bullets going Seeker, Seeker, Seeker, Wax, Searing, Subtle. He had all of his athames, enchanted to make them venom blades, two karma blades and two for channeling. He also had his whip, which he only knows one spell for, Terror whip, and his rifle which was resting by his foot with wax bullets inside. The beer slid over and he caught it, bringing it up to his lips and took a sip. He lowered it and the glass exploded in his hand after a gunshot. He turned to see the remaining two on his list.
The tallest man had long unkempt hair and was holding a rifle whereas the smaller man had a bald head and scar over his left eye with two pistols. The rifle was smoking at the end.
"Don't worry everyone. We aint hear for you." The tall man said. He lifted his rifle and Jonathan grabbed his before running and dodging a bullet. He removed his six shooters and fire from both but, seeing as those bullets weren't intended for the men, the bullets just flew into the ceiling. As the men watched Jonathan's bullets he ran upo and hit the little one before heading out of the saloon. He didn't see what everyone else inside had done. HE went round the corner and listened to the men move and get ready for a fight.
Two bullets were created for the men. One for each but Jonathan didn't know which seeker bullet it was. The next one or the one after that. He stood there at the corner and waited for the en to try something or for someone else to do something.
(I'll let people post before I continue with the fight.)
(Along these lines)
He headed out of his home and in search of a beer. He looked up and saw the saloon sign. Entering the building he heard a gunshot but ignored it. He wasn't one to get involved in bar fights because then he would reveal his powers. Jonathan took a seat. He looked to his right and saw both a man and a woman. The man was putting away a gun.
So that's who shot... Jonathan thought back to that morning when he had chased the man. After three months of tracking him he finally found the man responsible. He was in jail and now there were only two left. He was getting closer.
"What'll you be havin' son?" Jonathan looked up at the bartender.
"A beer." Jonathan was fully loaded with all of his weapons, expecting one of the friends of the man he arrested to come after him. He had his two revolvers, each loaded with hexed bullets going Seeker, Seeker, Seeker, Wax, Searing, Subtle. He had all of his athames, enchanted to make them venom blades, two karma blades and two for channeling. He also had his whip, which he only knows one spell for, Terror whip, and his rifle which was resting by his foot with wax bullets inside. The beer slid over and he caught it, bringing it up to his lips and took a sip. He lowered it and the glass exploded in his hand after a gunshot. He turned to see the remaining two on his list.
The tallest man had long unkempt hair and was holding a rifle whereas the smaller man had a bald head and scar over his left eye with two pistols. The rifle was smoking at the end.
"Don't worry everyone. We aint hear for you." The tall man said. He lifted his rifle and Jonathan grabbed his before running and dodging a bullet. He removed his six shooters and fire from both but, seeing as those bullets weren't intended for the men, the bullets just flew into the ceiling. As the men watched Jonathan's bullets he ran upo and hit the little one before heading out of the saloon. He didn't see what everyone else inside had done. HE went round the corner and listened to the men move and get ready for a fight.
Two bullets were created for the men. One for each but Jonathan didn't know which seeker bullet it was. The next one or the one after that. He stood there at the corner and waited for the en to try something or for someone else to do something.
(I'll let people post before I continue with the fight.)
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All seemed quiet after the guy next to Mariana shot, but then a new stranger walked in. As soon as he set his glass down it exploded. Shards of glass shot everywhere, some of the shards cutting scratches into Mariana's arms. She winced slightly, a small hissing noise protruding from her lips. She saw the taller man who had shot the glass turn and run down an alley on the side of the saloon. She sneered at the man, licking her lips and heading out the back end of the saloon and around towards the alley where the taller man had run.
She looked around the corner, getting her rifle ready, a Sun Speed bullet already inside. There she saw the taller man cavorting with some others. She rolled her eyes and walked out, her revolver already in her hand and the hammer pulled back ready to be shot.
"Listen, I know it was an accident," she said gesturing to the bleeding scratches on her arms, "so I'll tell you what. You apologize and get the hell out of town and I won't shoot". The men just looked at her, before laughing.
"Ain't she cute?" one yelled in between laughs, wiping a tear away. Some even fell on the ground. Mariana seethed, she hated being treated like a little girl.
"You asked for it," she said, lifting her gun. She pointed at the man who had called her cute first, aiming for his right ear. She shot, her aim right on, and the bullet pierced his ear. The man howled in pain and keeled over. The others just stared at her wide eyed. Two of them pulling their guns on her.
"Don't say I didn't warn ya," she said before aiming again.
She looked around the corner, getting her rifle ready, a Sun Speed bullet already inside. There she saw the taller man cavorting with some others. She rolled her eyes and walked out, her revolver already in her hand and the hammer pulled back ready to be shot.
"Listen, I know it was an accident," she said gesturing to the bleeding scratches on her arms, "so I'll tell you what. You apologize and get the hell out of town and I won't shoot". The men just looked at her, before laughing.
"Ain't she cute?" one yelled in between laughs, wiping a tear away. Some even fell on the ground. Mariana seethed, she hated being treated like a little girl.
"You asked for it," she said, lifting her gun. She pointed at the man who had called her cute first, aiming for his right ear. She shot, her aim right on, and the bullet pierced his ear. The man howled in pain and keeled over. The others just stared at her wide eyed. Two of them pulling their guns on her.
"Don't say I didn't warn ya," she said before aiming again.
Setting
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Jeckteths presence seemed to scatter slightly , a massive pulse of energy came from his charm as he finished his spell. It was done , the contract fulfilled on his end. Lucas wounds would be healed and his gunship that of a true gunman. Giving a cackle Jeckteth shoved the bone chime back in to his presence and as set out of the town , he was sure that the pulse it had let out would have been felt by -some- one at least , so things were going to get fun now.
Swishing through the air and evneutally hovering his way to the ground he ditched down a alley as soon as he heard a gunshot "Humans seem to fight alot...I wonder why..." giving a huff and finnaly finding Mariana and giving a chuckle as he whent to the top of a barrel "Now lets see~"
Giving a wide grin Jeckteth took physical form again , his hat was already in his lap and his lifeless orbs of eyes were staring at the men fighting with Mariana , Giving a echoing giggle Jeckteth waved at them "When she kills you , can I take your bones?" Jeckteth wasn't after a deal right now , just fun. Watching the men nearly piss themselves was deffinately fun. Giving another Giggle Jeckteths shark tooth grin grew wider as he continued to stare at them "She -is- going to kill you after all."
Swishing through the air and evneutally hovering his way to the ground he ditched down a alley as soon as he heard a gunshot "Humans seem to fight alot...I wonder why..." giving a huff and finnaly finding Mariana and giving a chuckle as he whent to the top of a barrel "Now lets see~"
Giving a wide grin Jeckteth took physical form again , his hat was already in his lap and his lifeless orbs of eyes were staring at the men fighting with Mariana , Giving a echoing giggle Jeckteth waved at them "When she kills you , can I take your bones?" Jeckteth wasn't after a deal right now , just fun. Watching the men nearly piss themselves was deffinately fun. Giving another Giggle Jeckteths shark tooth grin grew wider as he continued to stare at them "She -is- going to kill you after all."
Setting
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Jonathan jumped out of his hiding place and began firing to send away the seeker bullets. The men, not paying attention to him anymore, were startled slightly. Two of the bullets flew at the men and hit the tall man in the shoulder and the small man in the leg. Jonathan was ready to fire his wax bullets at the tall man but he ran in the opposite direction and got out of the way of the flying wax bullets after Jonathan DID fire them. Jonathan turned his right gun to the other man. the short one who was crying in pain on the ground. The small one, seeing Jonathan with his gun pointing at him, picked up his gun and fired. The bullet hit the eighteen year old witch's arm and he dropped his left gun. Jonathan shot beside the man, seeing as it was a searing bullet, and then fired his subtle blast. The man was blasted back a couple of meters.
"Where is your friend going?!" Jonathan screamed at the man. After what they did he had to end them, whether it be through killing or taking him to the sheriff. Jonathan rethought this and then shook his head.
I wouldn't be able to kill him...I won't be like them... The man in front of him went unconscious and Jonathan relaxed. He dropped to his knees and inhaled deeply.
I can question him later.
"Where is your friend going?!" Jonathan screamed at the man. After what they did he had to end them, whether it be through killing or taking him to the sheriff. Jonathan rethought this and then shook his head.
I wouldn't be able to kill him...I won't be like them... The man in front of him went unconscious and Jonathan relaxed. He dropped to his knees and inhaled deeply.
I can question him later.
The setting changes from The Frontier to Number Eight Saloon
Setting
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Damian noticed the woman he tried to talk to along with some weird bounty hunter-esque dude running after a couple of gunmen and took a long drink off his glass. "I wonder what made them all riled up?" He asked Walter on the matter.
"This town's a heaping wild one. Lots of promiscuous shooting and what not." Walter replied. "You want a refill on that Mr. Wilson?"
"No thanks Sir. Another one of these and I might faint from drinkin a bit too much to make me tipsy." Damian replied as he set his mug down. "Right at the moment I want to hear the sounds of the Saloon. Just the sounds of the saloon." With that he leaned back in his seat and calmly relaxed as he watched and listened to the saloon in it's usual activities. He felt peaceful for the first time in awhile. But if anything happened he wold be angrier then a rattlesnake.
"This town's a heaping wild one. Lots of promiscuous shooting and what not." Walter replied. "You want a refill on that Mr. Wilson?"
"No thanks Sir. Another one of these and I might faint from drinkin a bit too much to make me tipsy." Damian replied as he set his mug down. "Right at the moment I want to hear the sounds of the Saloon. Just the sounds of the saloon." With that he leaned back in his seat and calmly relaxed as he watched and listened to the saloon in it's usual activities. He felt peaceful for the first time in awhile. But if anything happened he wold be angrier then a rattlesnake.
- 26 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
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Wuyi
Abandoned beliefs, newfound curse, generations of repent.
Claire Crawley "White Crow"
Don't let that shootin' thar bother'ya. Here hav'a swig.
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Claire Crawley "White Crow"
Don't let that shootin' thar bother'ya. Here hav'a swig.
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Abandoned beliefs, newfound curse, generations of repent.
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Claire Crawley "White Crow"
Don't let that shootin' thar bother'ya. Here hav'a swig.
Wuyi
Abandoned beliefs, newfound curse, generations of repent.
View All » Places
11 posts · 5 characters present · last post 2011-09-24 04:21:48 »
The Frontier Owner: madscirat
The Witches call it the Last Stand, the place where, according to prophecy, the final battle between freedom and dominion will be fought...and lost.
5 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2011-09-23 17:16:15 »
Stillriver ↪ Number Eight Saloon Owner: RolePlayGateway
Is eight your lucky number? Why don't you try your hand at the dice and find out.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2011-09-19 01:24:17 »
Stillriver ↪ Starlight Stage and Tavern Owner: RolePlayGateway
You sir in the front row. You say your from Texas? Well cowboy, even you haven't seen stars like we got.
6 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2011-09-19 00:49:20 »
Stillriver ↪ Main Street Owner: RolePlayGateway
They say mainstreet Stillriver is paved with blood, but anyone who's been round at night when the chamber pots are thrown out knows this ain't the case.
3 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2011-09-17 01:17:26 »
North Central Indian Territory ↪ Stillriver Owner: RolePlayGateway
Stillriver: You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. You must be cautious
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Stillriver ↪ Chinese District Owner: RolePlayGateway
Hou hoisam yihngsik neih
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Stillriver ↪ Suskwahanah Boarding House Owner: RolePlayGateway
So long as your're staying under this roof there'll be no whoring, no dope, and no swearing. No I ain't joking and yes I know this is Stillriver.
0 posts · 1 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
The Frontier ↪ North Central Indian Territory Owner: RolePlayGateway
'These lands are not yours, where you take you steal, where you breathe you foul the air, where you walk you trample the spirits of my ancestors.' -Chief Burning Sky
0 posts · 1 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Stillriver ↪ Haartvelt House Owner: RolePlayGateway
Make yourself comfortable, there now, would you like to see some of my girls.
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Most recent OOC posts in Witches of the West
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
Okay now, Hopefully I will get to join you guys pretty soon.
Oh and zolzol, Sweet ID pic.. Do the evolution.
Oh and zolzol, Sweet ID pic.. Do the evolution.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
@vivi I am waiting on your post. The gunmen are your NPCs and we need to know what they are doing before continuing. As a rule I do not write NPCs introduced by another person and it would be a particular nono in this case since they are involved with your character's back story.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
LOL now there are four. If I find what tree these gunmen are falling off of, I'm chopping it down.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
Sorry I got sorta confused when the taller gunman went to the alley. To me that says there's about three of four. (starts listing off on fingers) The taller one, the little one, and one or two? in the alley helping the taller and shorter one.
@Vivi how many did you intend there to be?
@Vivi how many did you intend there to be?
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
After careful deciphering of the last few posts in order to find out WTH is going on, I found that the number of gunmen introduced initially somehow jumped from two in vivi's first post to three in the latest one. If I am not mistaken somehow, go ahead and correct that error.
I hope those who started this chaos intend to finish it because having absolutely zero information about these gunmen prevents me from NPCing them.
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I hope those who started this chaos intend to finish it because having absolutely zero information about these gunmen prevents me from NPCing them.
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Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
No problema then. >.> I'll be careful no worries. Once I learn one mistake, I make certain it doesn't happen again.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
Firewind wrote:Okay I'll edit it a tiny bit.
No need to edit, it's not that important. Just try to be more mindful in the future.
@Vivi I really appreciate the detail you've given to your treatment of your character's magic, but another gunfight, really? At this point that's like seeing a pile of cherries and putting a cherry on top.
@all Lets try to ease up on the gun-fights and actually have some character interactions that don't involve lead, or silver as the case may be. Finish the ongoing fight by all means but DO NOT make our western into some arena game where everyone is trying to out-bad-ass everyone else, please.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
@Firewind When posting in a scene with other players or central NPCs please give them a chance to react to anything you think they might react to.........such as a gunfight. By having them do nothing, you are effectively writing their character. In this case it is particularly grating because as you may recall witches are the peace keepers throughout all the west which could still be called 'wild'. As a result the fact that one would simply sit and drink her whiskey while a gun fight goes on behind her, is entirely out of character.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
I'll delete the tumble weed then. Yes, this is all going to be explained as we progress with the roleplay.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
@vivi For future reference we are starting in the Northern plains, a region analagous to present day North Dakota. Tumbleweeds are native to the southern deserts and dry steppes. If this is a flashback to when you were somewhere else then cool but always title flashbacks with something like 'Two days Ago' 'In the Distant Past' 'Four Score and Seven years Ago', etc..
Also I hope you are not forgetting that seeker bullets require a hair from the target and can't work on just anybody. If this is part of what you intend to explain later then all good.
@Angelika As far as I can tell there was actually no magic used in the scene. Only regular bullets were fired and witches need no magic to be crack shots. The closest thing to magic would be the spirit flitting about who is made of magic.
Also I hope you are not forgetting that seeker bullets require a hair from the target and can't work on just anybody. If this is part of what you intend to explain later then all good.
@Angelika As far as I can tell there was actually no magic used in the scene. Only regular bullets were fired and witches need no magic to be crack shots. The closest thing to magic would be the spirit flitting about who is made of magic.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
Huh? *Opens link , falls over laughing*
Oh god XD Thats the themesong now? All I can see is our characters staring someone down tell a tumble weed rolls by...actually I think i'm going to have Jeckteth carry a tumbleweed around for just such occasions.
Oh god XD Thats the themesong now? All I can see is our characters staring someone down tell a tumble weed rolls by...actually I think i'm going to have Jeckteth carry a tumbleweed around for just such occasions.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
Ah , my bad. Fixy uppy power GOOOOOOO~ *themesong*
....No I have no idea what my theme song is. *shrug*
....No I have no idea what my theme song is. *shrug*
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
@all Good posts so far, everyone. Be mindful of what place your post is in though. Its easy to forget and I found in my last post that you can not edit it if you make a mistake. If you do forget like me then just make a note of it at the top of the post.
Also be mindful that NPCs do not speak for the GM. Just because Claire tells you not to cause trouble in her town does not mean I, as the GM, am saying this. Claire is just a character and players should always try to play as their character would act regardless. The only plot constriction I want to place on the players is to try not to leave Stillriver until the group is more or less formed. Writing separate posts for every player in a game is just too much for this mortal GM.
Also be mindful that NPCs do not speak for the GM. Just because Claire tells you not to cause trouble in her town does not mean I, as the GM, am saying this. Claire is just a character and players should always try to play as their character would act regardless. The only plot constriction I want to place on the players is to try not to leave Stillriver until the group is more or less formed. Writing separate posts for every player in a game is just too much for this mortal GM.
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
@zolzol Looks good except spirit abilities should be called powers or charms, to delineate them from the learned spells of humans.
@All Settings are up and I will start to post some scene openers. If you don't see an opening to insert your character then either be patient or make an opening (make the first post in a scene yourself).
@All Settings are up and I will start to post some scene openers. If you don't see an opening to insert your character then either be patient or make an opening (make the first post in a scene yourself).
Re: [OOC] Witches of the West
Added a spells , rituals and contract section too Jeckteths profile.
I only gave him three spells and three rituals as to leave room for one or two more additions as the game progresses.
The contract section is incase any of you want to buy Jeckteths services so you understand exacly how it is done and what the consequences are.
I only gave him three spells and three rituals as to leave room for one or two more additions as the game progresses.
The contract section is incase any of you want to buy Jeckteths services so you understand exacly how it is done and what the consequences are.