Tumbleweed, USA: The Wild West RPG IC Thread

Six glasses down, Patrick was starting to slump on his stool. He pour his seventh and down it hard, setting down the glass, he missed the bar and it shattered on the floor.

"Dammit Pat, you break all my best glasses!" the bartender complained. "Heya, Imma your best cutsomer, with the money I drop in this place, youda could buy ones made of pure emerald."

"Drunken bastard, I don't know why we put up with you." the bartender berated him, "Like I say, Imma your best customer, anda I don't cause that much trouble do I?".

"Not to me or the girls no, but every once and while, some kid gets hurt, you go to jail, and I end up cleaning up blood off the floor."

Not feeling like arguing, Patrick changed the subject.

"So did Jean get them flowers?"

 

I ride my horse in a nice easy walk down the hillside trail. It's not much of a trail, to be honest. The trail the minors use aren't anywhere near here. But it's nothing we can't handle.

Finally we reach the bottom and the ground starts to flatten out. Going gets much easier from this point on, and I point my horse towards Tumbleweed. Of course, that's my final stop for the day. Not my next stop. My horse starts pulling to pick up the pace. I tug back gently on the reigns. "No need for all that now. Let's just enjoy a peaceful mornin'." He calms right down.

It takes a good half hour or so to make my way to the stream. Looking at how the trail splits, it's sort of a crossroads. One direction heads off back into the hills to the mines. Another leads me on through a small valley into town.

The last is the direction I need to go.

A gentle tug on the reigns gets my horse moving in the right direction following the stream. It'll be another hour or so before I get there, so I reach back into a saddlebag and pull out a couple of strips of jerky. I yanka good hunk off with my teeth, and start gnawing on my breakfast. I'll get something more substantial in town.

First, I need to see a man about a job...

 

"****!" Doc Rose shouted as the man stopped moving. His chest had stopped rising and falling. He quickly pulled the stethoscope that Mary had got him for his birthday four years before out of his bag. He ripped open the stranger's black shirt, and placed the cold metal over his chest. His eyes widened, then he threw the equipment to the floor and swore, louder than last time.

"Sheriff, seems like you should go get Pastor Stephens. This man's already dead," John muttered bitterly.

 

OOC: Previously

The Colour Scarlet
Continued from Two

The Burlesque dancers (aside Jean O'Hara) all grab their cloaks and make their way out the changing rooms, heading for Church. Jean stayed in the changing rooms, knowing Scarlet Summit was outside.

Jean slowly got up, she walked over to the clothes rail and grabbed her outfit. Jean had been picked to be the leader of The Starlets tonight, leading them off and on stage. This meant she could earn a lil' bit extra. The boss then came stomping in, chewing on his big cigar,
"You comin' or not O'Hara? I don't think God will like it if you don't show up" The boss asked, in the thickest accent Jean has ever heard.
"I'm not religious Terence" Jean replies. Jean sits down, she faces the mirror and opens her make-up bag. She places on some colored powder.
"It's Mr White to you, O'Hara!"
​

 

Walking towards the church bells, I smile as I stop at the bottom of the church steps.

"Father." I say with a nod as I climb the stairs.

"Name is Doctor James Amadeus Kippling III Esquire. Pleasure to meet you, and to partake in this holy ritual on this holy day."

 

"So, Pastor. If you don't mind me asking, what kind of problems plague the people of the good town of Tumbleweed?"

He shoots me a look and I shrug.

"You, know. Like physical things. Are there any that are crippled, blind, or even deaf?" I ask curiously.

 

"Okay." I say as I nod and smile to the people who walk into the church.

"And, uh...would you say most of the people in this town are religious? Do they believe in the healing power of the lord?"

 

I smile as I take off my spectacles and polish them on my shirt.

"Well, Pastor. I hope you forgive me for saying this. But as a doctor, I find that those who believe in the power of prayer are the ones who are least likely to seek medical treatment. While, praying may help. It certainly doesn't top the advances of medicine, if you catch my drift."

I put my glasses back on and wink at the pastor.

"Sorry if I've offended you in any way with my statements, I truly do believe in the lord's devine intervention...but sometimes it's up to man to give it a little push."

 

I nod in agreement and start to ramble in my coat pocket.

"Thank you, pastor. You were most informative." I pull a hand full of coins out of my pocket, some silver while the others are gold. I place them in his hand and smile as I walk inside the church.

"For the collection plate. Now, if you excuse me. I'm headed inside to repent my sins."

 

Mad Wolf
Exiled Comanche Warrior
​

((OOC: Underlined speech text means speaking Comanche, non-underlined speech text means speaking English))

Mad Wolf tossed and turned atop his cot. The desert nights were often cold and harsh. There was only so much the deer skin could to keep him warm. Groaning, the restless indian got up and went over to his canteen and took a large gulp of his water ... oh great, now the water was running low!

Two years, almost to the day: that's how long its been since he was shamed by his own people. Why did they the Numuunh exile him!? Those men ... they deserved every last arrow that pierced their rancid bellies! Men like them deserved no life, their spirit forever wandering in their own self pity!

"Wind Runner ..."

Speaking of spirits ...

"Wind Runner ..."

It was that voice again, tormenting his mind. Surely the isolation had eroded his mind.

"Your mind only decays if you don't use it, Wind Runner."

Losing his temper, Mad Wolf screamed out at the air.

"Go away! I am Wind Runner no more, I am a mad wolf!"

"According to them. A placid wind can become a raging storm, but it need not stay that way."

"Leave me alone!" he screamed as he threw his canteen at the air.

"You'll never be left alone. The past cannot leave you, it will follow you always."

"Then let my past leave me in peace!"

A long silence began before the voice began to speak again.

"If forgiveness you seek, then you must first ask for it from who you may have wronged."

"If you are a spirit, then bring that lost spirit to me! Once I am through with him, he will surely give me the peace I demand!"

"No Wind Runner. The death of a man affects so many. You must first receive that forgiveness from the living."

Mad Wolf froze for a moment. His conscience grappled at the situation before.

"You don't mean ..."

"I do. Head to the town of Tumbleweed. You know what you must do once you get there."

* * * * * *

Day 4 of his journey: Mad Wolf began tying a large, brown scarf around his face while he sat behind a rock. He knew he was almost to the public road, and knew he had to hide his skin as best as possible.

"Do not worry Bravehoof, we will be there soon, and then you can rest," said the Native American to his white horse.

As he finished tying his scarf around his face, he saw a jackrabbit hopping along the desert terrain. A flashback quickly came to the Indian.

Windrunner had his mind come back to reality, his horse Bravehoof looking at him as if worried. The indian patted the horse's back, and mounted it as they began to follow the dirt road.
​

 

"Tumbleweed."

Captain Ford H. Riley had stopped his horse on the outskirts of the town, using a spyglass to survey the area. Plenty of alleys to duck into, or emerge from in ambush, but not overwhelmingly disadvantageous from a tactical perspective. If there were rebels to be found in this little speck of the West, his men would be more than able to handle them.

His company had been formed specifically to find and destroy Confederate forces in the Western territories. While it did not come with the fame of General Grant's battles with the traitorous Lee, or the strategic value of Sherman's ongoing conquest of the Mississippi, it was his duty, and he would carry it out to the best of his ability, and get whatever satisfaction he could out of punishing the gray-coats he could find.

Already, he had purged a half a dozen towns roughly the same size, and was quickly making a name for himself by doing so. If the Union was going to preserve peace and stability in the years to come after the war, then it would need men like Captain Riley to put down any potential hostile forces before they could amass.

"Allright, men. Let's move in on the position. Advance!"

The unit he brought with him was small--only about a dozen men, while the rest of the company was at camp some ways away. But these men were the finest among them, the most unquestionably loyal to the cause. Should it come to it, Riley knew he could trust these men to purge Tumbleweed, by presence and words, or by sword and fire.

He headed up the line of cavalrymen, and arranged in a parade formation, they made their way into the main street of the town.

 

[EDIT: Double-post. Stupid Hype!]

 

OOC:Previously...

The Colour Scarlet
THREE

Terrence White leaves the room. Before Jean can slip on her outfit, she thinks of something else. Jean swiftly gets up, she grabs the black coat, leaving the gun in sight. She was wearing and walks out. Her stockings showing.

Jean stands in the town square, she can hear a faint noise coming from the Main Street, but thinks nothing of it. Jean watches as most of the town slowly scatters into the church. Pastor Stephens is outside, greeting those who come in. Jean goes back into the bar. It's empty. The bartenders and the customers are gone. The private area (where the show will be held tonight) is also empty. Jean feels alone. But this isn't the first time. Suddenly, Jean jumps. She maneuvers slowly to the bar, thinking she heard something.

Jean re-acts quickly, she runs onto the stage, past the curtains, through the door and into the changing rooms. Jean quickly sights that the gun is gone. A sharp noise is heard from behind her. The door is shut and someone has locked it. These noises are followed by the clicking of a revolver. Jean squeezes her eyes tightly, she turns around. Opening them slightly, she knew what she had expected to see was in front of her. Her eyes went all funny. Everything around her went to pitch black, except Scarlet, who held the gun by her side.

"It looks like you've seen a ghost, Rose. If I can still call you that"
​

 

Artemis had made his way through almost the entire population of Tumbleweed. Nodding politely, saying his 'hello's and 'how do you do's to everyone who greeted him, his demeanor was not that of a man who had just seen a man die.

Then again, he supposed he was used to it.

Finally he reached the chapel. Climbing the few steps to the door, he entered. Allowing a few moments for his eyes to once again get used to the shift in lighting, he then scanned the interior for Pastor Stephens. Finally, he spotted the man, and when the two made eye contact he motioned for the Pastor to join him.

"Mornin' David." Artemis began, making sure the people walking past them couldn't hear. "Now, I don't mean to alarm you, but the minute this mornin's service concludes, I'd like to have a word with you about somethin'."

 

"There was a--. Mornin' to you too, Mrs. Farrell..." Artemis waited as a family of four, led by the immensely religious Jane Farrell, passed the two men and entered the chapel. When they were out of earshot, he leaned in close. "Strange man showed up this morning. Hurt real bad, poor fella died a few minutes ago."

 

From my seat in the church, I watch out of the corner of my eye as Pastor Stephens and the town's sheriff trade words.

Best keep my eye on him, the last sheriff I encountered tried to give me noose.

I smile at a middle-aged woman who passes by with two sons and a dopey husband. While her dress is frumpy, I catch glimpses of the attractive figure underneath.

"Mornin', mam. Isn't it indeed a lovely morning filled with god's wonders?"

She smiles and nods as her family takes a pew across the aisle from me.

"Why, mercy yes. Every day I think about god's bless--"

She starts to cough violently, her husband puts a hand on her back and keeps her steady as she goes through her fits. The violent coughing ends as she straightens her hair and sits back up.

"Apologies, sir. I have a bad case of the whooping cough. I pray to god every night that he take it from me, but it appears to be his plan that I suffer here with Jacob and our young ones. Not even Doctor Rose can help me."

I peer over my glasses at her and crack a smile.

"After the service, I suggest you stop by the Deadwood Arms, mam. My name is Doctor James Amadeus Kippling III Esquire. I am a physician, much like your Doctor Rose. Unlike him, I have successfully navigated through the seven continents of this world, and seen many mysteries of the far orient. I have a few healing tricks that may help you with that cough."

"You would?" She says with a smile as she stretches across the aisle and places a hand on my arm.

"But I'm afraid I don't have the money to pay."

I shrug and shake my head.

"Think nothing of it, mam. It would be unchristian of me to ask you to pay for it with money. No, I'm sure we can think of a better way to work this out...Mrs..."

"My name is Mrs. Jane Farrell. God bless you, Doctor."

Just then, the organ player starts to play Amazing Grace.

"No, mam. God bless you. You are truly a godsent, sent by the lord himself to give me a chance to help those less fortunate than me."

She squeezes my hand slightly and smiles.

"You are truly a saint."

She turns back to her family and I smile to myself as Amazing Grace goes into the second verse.

"Amen."

 

"Won't you be joining us this morning, Artemis?"

A soft, almost angelic voice comes from behind the sheriff as the Pastor walks off into the chapel. Artemis turns and comes face to face with a face as sweet as the voice that belongs to it; Jessie Winchester.

The girl of only 15 years smiled. Her hair, brigher than any bar of gold Artemis had ever seen, draped down her back. Her skin was smoother than porcelain but not nearly as fragile. She seemed a few years older than she was, and she knew this and took advantage of it regularly. But, above all, for some reason unknown to the sheriff of Tumbleweed, she had an insatiable crush on him.

"Not today, Jessie." Artemis smiled. "Seems I've got a long day ahead of me."

Jessie Winchester giggled innocently. It truly did astound Artemis how beautiful the girl was. He recalled drunkenly stating one night that the girl possessed beauty that could not be contained within Tumbleweed forever. Like keeping a mockingbird locked up in a cage for all it's life; it just wasn't right.

"That's too bad. I sure was hopin' you'd stick around. Make a boring sermon easier to sit through, havin' you there."

Artemis chuckled as he looked back into the chapel and spotted a small, bald man looking out at Jessie. The man, Marshall Winchester, Jessie's father, had a disapproving expression. "You best get in there, Jessie. Neither your pa nor the Lord like to be kept waitin'." he said, putting on hand on her shoulder as he stepped past her.

"Well I'm used to doin' things my daddy and the Lord don't approve of.." the girl said with a seductive tone well beyond her years.

Artemis quickly took his hand off the girl's shoulder. "You take care now."

-----

Artemis finally got back to Doc Rose's office when Pastor Stephens' sermon was just about halfway done, he reckoned. He had gone to see the gravedigger, Jordan McCoy, a man he confessed he didn't much like for a variety of reasons. One of them being the McCoy's renowned thirst for gossip, which lead to him asking more questions about the stranger than Artemis liked.

"Pastor'll be here when he finished today's sermon. 'Bout twenty minutes I reckon." Artemis announced as he walked in to Rose's office. "Don't suppose he came to life and told you who in the hell he is, by chance?"