I will make a post moving the story along tomorrow.
If the inactive players don't post by midnight they will be out of the RP.
Also the new players are pretty experienced RPers and well known through out the Escapist, so I'm pretty excited for their arrival.
They will be the Carson City Reinforcements.
Waiting outside the bar Edward had heard everything.
"If indians are going to attack I may be put out of the business."
Looking around he found himself looking in the direction of the train station.
"And if they attack that then there goes my way out." He said quietly to himself.
Getting up from leaning on the wall Edward proceeded to go find a blacksmith of somekind.
Fishing something out of his pocket he looked at a large piece of paper.
A man whom had made clocks and many contraptions had given him this along with his clockwork gun as payment for a job. The piece of paper held blueprints for one trap.
At first glance it looked like type of bear trap with its menacing teeth however upon closer inspection it had a spring in the bottom so it would leap up and grap the higher parts of the persons leg making it more painful to most males.
Smiling to himself he carefully folded it, checked his money and walked off towards several buildings one of which looked to be a blacksmith.
[OOC/]
I know the blacksmith has left the rp but Im hoping that I'll find someone with similar skills to build the traps. I think the farmer can do it maybe?
[/OOC]
(I'm going to pretend that John answered my question)
Jon busied himself. First, he got a team together to get the church bell down. Then, he went down to his little house behind the church to prepare.
Having changed into suitable clothes for the scouting mission, he packed a bag full of supplies and useful equipment. Then, finally, he went to his strong-box.
Removing the fake bottom, he looked at the things that lay there. When he had first arrived, Father Davis had made him promise never use them again. He shook his head. Some promises have to be broken. Sacrifice is needed, in order to sever the greater good
He lifted the pair of pistols, of with a long, thin barrel, and the other squat, short barrelled, which took a brutally wide shot. The right hand dealt precise, surgical death, and the left, savagery and pain.
He buckled on the belt, and sheathed the pistols. To touch them now made him feel unclean, but he would need them in the times ahead.
Tim's bald head shined under the hot bar lights, he scratched at what hair he had left. Madness, he thought, people are splitting up, leaving us less protected, I just hope my "investments" come through. I can tell I'll need them soon, with everyone else arming up.
Tim downed the rest of his drink, then strolled back to his store.
Amy downed a shot of whiskey as her bar slowly emptied, the men going off to their various assignments. Some began accounting for all the weapons within the town, others wandered off to... do whatever they were going to do.
She looked at them each in turn, her glance lingering on the ones that would be in the most danger. The priest. Joh. Ethan and Rutherford. And she was going to stay behind, safe and well-fed.
Sighing, she downed another shot of whiskey. "It's going to be a helluva a year..."
Character Sheets
Name: Nathan (Nate) Garrett (played by CadeHolwind)
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Appearance: Blue/grey eyes, brown beard shot through with red. 6'1" tall, with a thick build. He looks weather beaten, and his skin looks a bit leathery. Wears a brown leather cowboy hat, a duster (when it's cool) and a pair of well worn boots, faded britches, and a breasted, double button shirt.
Occupation: Horse Trader
Weapon: Twin Colt .45 Peacemakers
M1866 Lever Action (Yellow Boy)
Character Sheets
Name: Abigail (Abby) Garrett (Played by Sungryphon)
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Appearance: Abby is pretty, but she's also got a hard, weathered look to her. She's much shorter than her twin brother, but she has the same blue/gray eyes. She's got brown hair that's been mostly bleached by the sun. Her hair is usually bound up in a pony tail, or tucked up under her hat. She's got a few lines around her mouth, but they only set off her pretty features. She's usually wearing faded britches, a double button shirt, and a duster (when it's windy or cold) she has a wide brimmed, flat crowned hat that she keeps on a string, so that she can toss it back behind her.
Occupation: Horse Trader
Weapon: M1873 Lever Action Rifle. Single Colt .45 Peacekeeper. Mares Leg, lever action rifle (Sawed off rifle)
Bio: Nate and Abby are the children of Gold Rushers. Ever since the gold ran out their family has tended to horses. Their livestock is some of the most reputable on the West Coast. Their parents tend to the ranch, while Nate and Abby go abroad herding the horses wherever they fetch the best dollar. Having spent many years out in the open Nate and Abby have honed certain skills. Nate is a crack shot with pistol and only passable with a rifle. While Abby is a master of the long range shot, and only passable with her Peacemaker. Both of them have learned how to track, since a lot of the food they eat they hunt for. The twins are slow to anger, but quick to defend one another. The two would rather walk away as opposed to fighting. Since their mother was a teacher, before moving to California, they've had some formal education and can read and write.
"You idiot! Shut up. Fallacious fool! Shut up. Imbicilite! Shut up. You'll get yourself killed with all those injians and crazy people! It's just a train, I've only been working with them my entire life." Thought Rutherford's Id and Ego.
He grabbed a backpack from the shelf, filled it with various useful appliances; can opener, cigarette lighter, knife, extra shot, a small watch, compass, map of the state and areas, and headed down to the station, garnering some admirable looks from the townsfolk as he walked.
"You'll make Dad proud." suddenly became a recurring thought in his mind, countering all of the fearful minorities of thoughts.
He slid the shotgun out of its holster as it lay under the ticket desk, holding it with both hands for a few moments, looking at it with fearful disdain and incredulous empowerment.
Taking some of the shells laying near it on the shelf, he loaded it and walked out past the back of the station, looking at the empty horizon. The pump slid back and clicked with a pleasing snap. He slid it forward again, and trained it straight forward at a cactus about forty paces away. His aim was that of the average, but better than that he hoped.
With a corruptual flash and vulgar bang, a large chuck of the side of the cactus flew off about a foot below where Ruth thought he was aiming. Somewhat satisfied with the shot, Ruth reloaded and aimed at the hole where he previously shot. Another flash with it's terrible recoil, a puff of sand a yard before the cactus erupted.
"Er.." said Rutherford, remarking upon the fact that his ability with a firearm could improve.
Name: Josh Murray
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance: Well kept. middle class. Black hair. Green eyes.
Occupation: Carson City Inn keeper
Bio: Josh grew up in The Carson city Inn. His grandfather built it and ran it. When Josh's grandfather died, his father took control of it. When his father died, Josh inherited the inn. He has been giving a place to stay to passers-by for nearly 16 years now. He always loved to hear the stories of travelers, and hoped that, one day, he could go on one of those adventures as well.
Weapon: Winchester rifle, Bowie knife.
Appearance: A short, slightly overweight man. His face always seems to be jolly, even though he has a couple of scars. Has a beard. He wears a slightly patched shirt and a pair of trousers held up by suspenders, all of them rather clean as would be proper for his line of work. He normally wears an apron and a union soldiers cap.
Occupation: Baker/Cook.
Bio: He grew up in the far east of the United States - Maine. As soon as he could, he joined the United States army and was sent out along with a few Maine regiments to protect the frontier. After his army duty ended, he didn't have enough money to go back home, so after wandering all through the west, he ended up in Hope Falls, using his natural aptitude for cooking and the lessons from his mother to feed some of the town, as well as provide the populace with fresh bread and baked goods.
Weapon: U.S. Contract rifle, 1792-1794 model (Used) and a Cleaver (Used).
Far out of the town, maybe twenty miles, and well out of sight of any onlooker, the classic town drunkard, Jimmy, stumbled about the grassy dunes and endless prarie. The world was swimming, and there a terrible ache in his stomach. He smiled an insane smile as he ran forward, spotting a freindly cactus in his wake. With the cactus, now only a foot from his face, Jimmy's legs gave way (weigh?) and he fell onto his buttocks. He stared at the cactus angrily.
"What're you doing here, Tommy Chipotle...? I though I shived you back in Los Fuerte...."
The cactus glared back at him angrily, inciting further shouts.
"DAMN YOU TOMMY CHIPOTLE! You rotten varmint! I never should've sold you those rutebegas!"
He flopped down onto his back, staring up at the glaring orb of the sun. A lone vulture hovered ahead. Dehydration had nearly seized him, and his conciousness was fleeting.
"That looks like a tasty chicken" He mumbled "I wonder if he knows how far I am from the Mississippi...."
He took a bite out of the sand he held in his grip, what he though was really a cheeseburger. He mumbled some insane noises as the sand scratched his throat and sputtered up out of his mouth.
A clicking noise drew the the bum's gaze, for the cactus, too, was an illusion. It was really a man, an outsider. A raider.
A lone gunshot flew free of the pistol, barely audible to the other-concerned town, miles away. The bullet lie deep in Jimmy's skull, a trickle of blood and a smattering of grey matter smeared on the dirt.
It was the end of Ol' Jimmy; Bum, Drunkard, and Ex-Cowboy.
Ethan ran over the list of thigns he'd need for the trip, and thought for a moment. why would Rutherford want to come with him? it didn't matter now he supposed. he'd have to head back to the farm, make sure the animals are all fed, grab the old colt, and with ammo this time. he was...excited, which scared him. he'd never been outside of hope fall's, and he'd certainly never seen a city. it was going to be quite the adventure! he finnaly reached the barn, made certain that all the animals were fed, and that they had plenty of water, as did he. he ran into the stables just before he left, to check on his best [and only] horse, stepper. "hey boy!" he said, rubbing the horse's nose. "you gonna be good while im gone?" a loud neigh was his reply. "you be sure too watch over the place qhile im gone". but as Ethan walked the long walk back to town, he wondered. someone would have to take care of the farm while he was gone, but whom?
Abby waited patiently as her twin brother, Nate, leaned forward in the saddle and rested his arm on the saddle horn. He did a quick count and tallied the total in his head.
"Well, Abby, looks like we got what we wanted. Fifteen head at 75 dollars a head, that'll do for here. That leaves us with a nice purse and still ten more head for the McKinley farm out towards Salt Lake."
Nate opened his ledger and made some quick notes concerning the amount of mares and stallions sold as well as how many went to the corral here in Carson City and how many they were pressing forward with.
"Abby, check our supplies and get us restocked. I'll go and settle up with that rancher, Jonas. I'll meet you back here in a few minutes and we can make our way. I'm think we take an indirect route. Some reports of restless natives. What do you think? Head southwest, off the main route and meet back up with it closer to Salt Lake?"
Abby drummed her fingers idly on her leg as she thought.
"I mislike leaving the main road, but it may be safest." As she spoke, she gathered the lead rein of the pack mule and fastened it behind her saddle, then mounted her mare - a rather ugly shade of dirty gray covered with dark specks named Fleabit.
"I'll be back in two shakes, brother."
With that, she turned the horse towards the town proper and trotted off to resupply, the mule complaining slightly as he followed.
Nate chuckled to himself. Though short of words, Abby was a quick thinker, and he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have by his side in a fight. He mounted his own mare, Moonlight, who was a much prettier shade of pale gray and seemed to be almost too dainty for trail work. She could cut cows and horses with equal ease, however, so Nate put up with the occasional teasing he got for riding a "lady's horse".
Another crack issued across the open plain beyond the Railroad outpost as Rutherford continued to hone his aim to whatever his capacity would allow. All of a sudden a sound that for an instant was quite alien, moaned throughout the heard world of the town; a distant whistle echoed. The lumber train was showing up surprisingly early, and it just entered the Hope Falls Siding block, planning on stopping in short order.
Rutherford looked south along the tracks and saw in the distance a whisp of transpiring gray smoke.
With the sudden urgency, he clicked the safety of his shotgun and dropped it to run to the station, the firearm being caught by the shoulder strap and therefore following him in his stupored gait.
Rutherford inside the depot, ran up to the signal box and pulled a lever, the sign across the tracks with a white board in an angled position with a yellow chevron-cut board in a similar position, both sliding into a horizontal residence. The whistle resonated again in the distance, but more distinct this time.
"That doesn't sound like that Lumber train, whatever that whistle is, it's newer.."
Walking into the empty blacksmith Edward called out. "Anybody in here?"
A silence answered him. Walking around he noticed that a few objects were left here, The items he saw caught his eyes. Years of expierence in the field were starting to pay off. As he examined the objects on the wall he thought in his mind.
"Hmmm that one would over heat to fast, the handle on that would slip, but this one is perfect and the balance is so right!"
Grabbing the handle he gave it a twirl. The spatula was perfect.
Looking around he looked outside, stowing away the kitchen implement.
"Hey" he yelled outside "Who works here?"
Ethan had burst into a sprint when he hit the townwell, the loud train whistle serving as a warning. "damnit, im gonna be late!" I didn't even have time to say good-bye to Amy, he thought to himself. "no time for that now" he said to himself. by the time he hit the Train stationg with greers, he was panting, his hands on his knees, his pack filled with water-skins, a bedroll, his colt 45. on his side, "hey....did..did we miss it?" he said with a light laugh. he thought about Greers for a minute. he hadn't actually known the man on a personal level. a skilled fixer from the word around town. he seemed the trusty type, however, too be honest, he trusted that shotgun at his side more.
"Hey....did..did we miss it?"
"It's just arriving- you're Ethan, and we're going to the City, yes?" Rutherford introduced, the train still puffing towards.
"The train will be here for fifteen minutes once it arrives," remarked Rutherford on Ethan's out-of-breath state. " it is a water stop. But I'm not sure if this is the train we want.." he continued, on the nature of the train's different puffing tone.
The locomotive passed by the platform at about jogging speed, continually slowing with an inane high-pitched squeal emanating from the brakes, puffing with a thick dignified volume of steam and gray smoke. The engineer leaned out from the cab giving a wave and Rutherford recognized him; it was the Lumber train, but the locomotive was itself different. It was bigger, cleaner, and painted, red trim with a gleaming yellow livery all over, even the four visible driving wheels. Two of the cars filled with dew and frost-encrusted logs, freshly cut from in the mountains passed by, glowing with small remaining life and mint forest inside, before the train finally stopped with an abrupt shriek of the brakes and a thunder of the stock's buffers knocking together as their inertia dissipated.
Rutherford walked to the engine as the Engineer disembarked, Ethan following mostly to observe.
The man was sullied in soot from head to toe, denim overalls soiled here and there from oil and water, a burn patch occasionally.
"Mornin' Ruth!" he exclaimed.
"Morning, Fred!" said Rutherford, mostly still obtusely surprised at the new engine. "What's this?"
"Ah, it's the tops back in Capital! They're making so much money on these here lines that they just pass on the new headers to the little-leagues o're here!" said Fred exuberantly in a thick Southern accent. Ethan said nothing in slight bewilderment, Rutherford catching a glance of him.
"He says that Union Pacific is making so much money that they're buying lots of new engines, and the old-new engines are passed on to minor lines like this one."said Rutherford to Ethan. "So what is this?"
"Bawlin' Consolidation, C-sixy. She's got o'er four thousan' horses in this here boiler!" said the man in the overalls.
"Fred?"
"Yeah?"
"This is my friend Ethan. We need a ride to Carson City, do you think we could hitch a ride?"
The man looked at the two of them, contemplating the possible situation and how it would incur once they arrived at a sawmill. He opened his mouth to speak as he thought, before he began speaking.
"..Well, I guess I could, but you'd gon'have to skedaddle before I stop, would you be able t'jump?"
"How long would the trip be?" Fred gave a slight shake of his head.
"-Coupl' hours, this here engines way lighter on the wheels than th'last one. I might not be able to slow her up much just fer you, I'm still gettin' used to 'er."
"Well Ethan, can you jump from a moving train?"
Imagine it with a Union Pacific [http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a5/UNION_PACIFIC_Y2513_20070228.jpg] livery. Which actually may serve as limited camouflage.
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