NSWRPF Archive The Deadlands

The Deadlands


Based off the Table Top Role Playing Game

The Year is 1877 in Deadwood, but the time is not our own.


[image=http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb132/4umTroll/deadlandsmap.jpg]


The Quake of 1868

The Great Quake of 1868 changed the world forever. California had been the place of dreams already, with many merchants and prospectors heading to California, in hopes of having their dreams of fame and fortune fulfilled thanks to the Gold Rush. Of course most came empty handed, and some didn?t even come home alive at all. The West was wild, it was untamed, it was a place of adventure, but going there did not mean you would become a millionaire overnight. But then the Quake came, and much of the coast near the land where dreams where born and died, sunk underneath the water.

What remained on that coast, was twisted knotted land surrounded by sea, a place incredibly hard to navigate and with almost no reason to go to, many dubbing it The Maze. For six months the nation was beset with grieving, with both the Union and the Confederacy calling for a cease fire while both sides retrieve and try to rescue survivors from the hellish place. While rescuing the civilians caught in California, Confederate forces stumbled on what be called the most important substance in the world, Ghost Rock.


Ghost Rock

Ghost Rock, as everyone knows, has been called three times as valuable as gold and a million times more useful. The Ghost Rock itself was named so, when a Rebel solider bored while working, threw a strange looking rock he picked up from recently unearthed cavern, into a small campfire. The thing burned green and emitted a white ghostly vapor, and seemed to howl like a wounded beast while in the fire. The Confederate called it Ghost Rock and the name stuck, to say the least. Since then it has been discovered that it is at least a hundred times more powerful then coal, and much more flexible in its working conditions a second Rush happened in California, everyone trying to gather as much Ghost Rock as possible and sell it to the highest bidder.

Luckily, California was recently discovered not to be the only place this valuable material lay, with extremely rich veins (though not seemingly as infinite as found in the Southern Californian area) found near Deadwood, a city deep with in Indian Territory. Though a much safer alternate then trying to traverse The Maze, and though it is very much a booming city now, many still prefer to head to the California Maze. There they would know it might cost them their lives, but that they would probably find their fortunes there, if they made it out alive. Deadwood is still very much a wild card, like the gold once pursed relentless in the Rush. With it the world is seeing weapons and devices thought it impossible to create.


[image=http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n143/kinkajogirl76/steampunk/steampuink-centipede.jpg]


The Civil War

Their where plenty of people who wanted it, nay needed. After all the American Civil War, had started sixteen years ago in 1861, and Unionists and Confederates where both wishing for a quicker end to the war. Most foreign leaders, and retired military personal believing that it should have ended ten to twelve years ago. The reason for the war extending for as long as it has been contributed to many things. The primary reasons whatever they have been for the most part, began with the cool down after the Battle of Gettysburg, where the crushing Union victory witch was thought to be the turning point of the war, did not spur the Union onwards like officials thought it would. Since then, the Confederates where able to repel any attacks into the South itself. However it seemed as if General Robert E. Lee?s fears where true. There was no chance of a successful third Northern Invasion, at least with the materials they had. But with Ghost Rock?


The Confederates were the first to prove how dangerous the new mineral was in the Battle of Washington. Looking to capitalize off of Lincoln?s as

 

APPROVED RALLYFAN

Name: Quentin "Quint" Zachariah Radamus
Age: 31
Gender: Male

-Appearance-
Height: 6'1.5''
Weight/Build: 182lbs
Hair Color/Style: Light Brown/ medium short and straight
Eye Color: Jade green with flecks of violet
Facial features: goatee, stubble when on a long ride
Typical outfit: dark reddish brown akubra hat with a sioux bead band around the crown, dark green duster coat, single color cotton button down shirt, leather gun belt and bandoleers, dark reddish brown leather gloves, dark reddish brown square toed cowboy boots with matte finish 20 point spurs, late fiancee's ring on a long chain around his neck.

Skills:
- great long-range shot
- Accomplished and expert gunfighter
- Proficient as street fighter and in non-gun weapons (bullwhip, knives etc.)
- Excellent horseman
- superb tracker
- abnormally high pain threshold
- working knowledge of several tribal dialects
- fast and intuitive thinker, able to think and act in on-the-fly situations

Weaknesses:
- hotheaded, sometimes prone to severe impatience (especially when trying to acquire information)
- not good at planning
- alcoholic, addictive personality traits
- tendency to aggravate local law enforcement almost as fast as true bad men

Profession: Bounty Hunter, specializing in high-risk warrants (they pay the most).

=Inventory=
Equipment:
- 200 feet of rope (lariat and lasso)
- high power telescope
- billfold of high risk warrants for criminals
- maps of western territories detailing known hiding areas for criminals
- basic survival supplies (canteen, cookware etc.)
- prisoner restraining gear (handcuffs, leg irons, gags, blindfolds
- utility knife (punch, different blades)
- Speed loaders for all weapons

Weapons:
1x Brass Knuckle duster
1x Kangaroo Skin bullwhip (15 feet long, retaining ball on the end of handle)
2x Jackknives
1x Bowie Knife
2x 2 shot derringers (.45 Schofield)
1x Lemat Revolver (.44 S&W re-chamber, 16 Gauge shotgun)
1x Smith and Wesson Model 3. (.45 Sch)
1x Ithaca Triple barrel shotgun (10 Gauge)
1x Ithaca twin barrel coach gun (short barrel, 10 gauge)
1x Winchester Model 1876 (.50-90 Express)
1x Sharps Model 1877 with early generation scope (.50-90 Express)

Transportation:
- 4 year old male Appalosa horse "Dusty", varnish Roan coloration with requisite tack and saddlebags
- former mail coach now used as prisoner transport/equipment carrier (pulled by Dusty and Caines horse)

Personality: very sarcastic and sardonic, alcoholic and smoker (cigars), willing to go to any length to get a job done on his terms, impatient with bribe-seekers, mistrusting of clerics of many religions, leery of Ghost Rock, completely trusting of and loyal to Caine, sides with the victims of misdeeds and wrongdoings, believes in true justice over all (including mans laws), incorruptible due to his own principles, still retains a sense of humor (takes a bit to get it out of him), weary of the Civil War and the hot air from politicians

Background: While Quentin Radamus was born in Indiana, he was raised in the Colorado Rockies, and considers himself a citizen of that area.

Born to a farmer/handyman for a father and a schoolteacher for a mother, "Quint" as he was known to his friends grew up strong and swift, all tempered with a keen mind and a thirst for knowledge.
As a young man, he sired a son with his girlfriend Serenity, and rather than put a damper on their plans the two were ecstatic and planned to marry after Quentin returned home from the civil war.

Seeking to help make the world peaceful for his future wife and child, Quentin joined the Union Army at 20 and was sent to the Army of the Tennessee. His mental acumen combined with his extraordinary long shot capabilities quickly got him promoted to First Sergeant as a Marksman.

Though he served with distinction in many campaigns, the futility of the conflict eventually started to wear on him slightly, and he began to doubt if the wretched conflict would ever see an end.

In 1871 during the Battle of Peoria, he had taken up a position in an abandoned business office and was overlooking

 

EDIT: Fine, I concede that MIB got my sheet up first. Meh.

 

OOC: lol, almost beat me to the punch!

 

Well gee, you could have given me a PM to hurry my rear up, I would have made the sight adjustments (nothing major, just detail work lol)

 

OOC: This looks interesting, anywhere I can look up more information about the setting in general first?

 

OOC: I was looking for a wiki for this, for a week. no such luck. Wikipedia has a decent sized artcile though

 

GM Approved

Name: calvin c. robinson

Age: 23

Gender: male

Appearance: [image=http://media.timeoutnewyork.com/resizeImage/htdocs/export_images/628/628.x600.hotseat.phoenix.jpg]

sheriff hat and typical western law enforcement garb. Likes to wear fur, however. he's a skinny, 5'11, youth with a deep voice and a furry beard. boltflash is a brown and white horse.

Skills: great marksman, fast sprinter with good stamina, and above average horse riding. highly resourceful.

Weaknesses: naive, women in distress, gambling, and his need to be a hero.

Profession: deputy-sheriff

Inventory
person
-pair of handcuffs
-rifle
-a pistol
-hunting knife

traveller's sack
-a rifle
-ammo
-rope
-small axe
-medkit

Personality: an investigative young deputy who is sharp, but used to a normal way of life. hard working and has a need to save people. He is the stereotypical young hero.

Background: calvin c. robinson is a deputy from texas. his father is the sheriff and since the town is so small and not alot of violence occurs there, he was made deputy at the age of 15. he hunts for food, so travelling has been kind to him and is the one that is sent out from the town since his father counts on him and is lazy. a few weeks ago his father elevated him to mail delivery when their town's delivery boy disappeared on his way to deadwood. he has since been delivering mail great distances with his horse, boltflash. calvin was assigned the missing boy case last week and has tirelessly investigated his death, eventually leading him to deadwood. far from home, but he is holding a promise true to the boy's mother.

 

OOC: I need only two more people for this then the game can begin

 

GM Approved

Name: Pierre Gustave Toutant (PGT) Beauregard
Age: 59
Gender: Male

Appearance: [image=http://www.sonofthesouth.net/leefoundation/Jefferson_Davis/General_P_G_T_Beauregard_small1.jpg]

Skills: Army General, skilled artilleryman and engineer, has some skills in inventing things, generally very intelligent and a good shot.
Weaknesses: Not physically strong, overly outspoken (making enemies with Confederate President Jefferson Davis), disbeliever about the supernatural, haughty and arrogant sometimes.
Profession: Confederate General
Inventory: Revolver, 1 Company of the Confederate Army (100 men)

Personality: Beauregard is an intelligent military commander that works by the book. He is well aware of his fame, and is extremely confident in his abilities. An avid believer in science, Beauregard is rational, calculating, and tactical, all the while retaining a classic Southern charm.

Background: Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard was a Louisiana-born author, civil servant, politician, inventor, and the first prominent general for the Confederate States Army during the American Civil War.

Beauregard was born at the "Contreras" sugar-cane plantation in St. Bernard Parish, about 20 miles outside New Orleans, to a white Creole family, the third child of Jacques Toutant-Beauregard and Helene Judith de Reggio Toutant-Beauregard. He had three brothers and three sisters. Beauregard attended New Orleans schools and then went to a "French school" in New York City. It was during his four years in New York, beginning at age 12, that he first learned to speak English.He trained at the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York. One of his instructors was Robert Anderson, who would later become the commander of Fort Sumter and surrender to Beauregard at the start of the Civil War.

Upon enrolling at West Point, Beauregard dropped the hyphen from his surname and treated Toutant as a middle name, in an attempt to fit in with his classmates. From that point on, he rarely used his first name, preferring "G. T. Beauregard." He graduated second in his class in 1838 and excelled both as an artilleryman and military engineer. His Army friends gave him many nicknames: Little Creole, Bory, Little Frenchman, Felix, and Little Napoleon.

Beauregard was trained as a civil engineer at the United States Military Academy and served with distinction as an engineer in the Mexican-American War. Following an extremely brief tenure as the superintendent of the Military Academy in 1861, he became the first Confederate brigadier general and commanded the defenses of Charleston, South Carolina, for the start of the Civil War at Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861. Three months later he was the victor at the First Battle of Bull Run near Manassas, Virginia.

Beauregard commanded armies in the Western Theater, including at the Battle of Shiloh in Tennessee, and the Siege of Corinth in northern Mississippi. He returned to Charleston and defended it from repeated naval and land attacks in 1863. His arguably greatest achievement was saving the city of Petersburg, Virginia, and thus also the Confederate capital of Richmond, from assaults by overwhelmingly superior Union Army forces in June 1864. However, his influence over Confederate strategy was marred by his poor professional relationships with President Jefferson Davis and other senior generals and officials.

As the war wore on Davis grew more and more frustrated by Beauregard to the point of fearing him and his power. He thus commissioned him to go on a mission into Deadwood to investigate the happenings there. Unbeknown to Beauregard, his newest assignment is considered a suicide mission, and President Davis holds no hopes for the General's return.

 

GM Approved!!! sorry for the long bio, got a little carried away


Name: Virgil Cole
Age: 30
Gender: Male

-Appearance-
Height: 6?2
Weight/Build: 183 lbs.
Hair Color/Style: Dark brown, grows down behind his ears
Eye Color: Green
Facial features: Slight stubble
Typical outfit: Virgil wears a black cowboy hat with brown leather headband, A cotton button down shirt, buckskin pants, and brown round-toe cowboy boots, as well as a brown duster for bad weather. He also wears leather cross holsters as well as a small holster for a snub nose pistol.

Skills:
- A superb marksman
- Proficient Gunfighter
- Decent Horseman
- Excellent tracker as well as wilderness survivalist
- Speaks many Native American dialects
- Good knife fighter


Profession: Bounty Hunter, Part time guide and tracker

=Inventory=
Equipment:
- Leather gloves
- 100 feet of rope
- Basic Supplies (Canteen, utility tool etc.)
- Food (Jerky, coffee, bread)
- Billfold
- Medium size square of canvas for shelter

Weapons:
- 1x Smith and Wesson Model 3. (45. Schofield)
- 2x 1861 44. Army revolvers
- 1x Sub nosed 38. Army Revolver
- 1x 1874 Sharps rifle (45-120)
- 1x Bowie knife

Transportation:
- 5 year old Paint named Beau

Personality: Virgil is a fairly serious man, trusting hardly anyone these days as compared to in his naive youth. He learned that to trust is to die, because most of the people he trusts in his profession would rather put a bullet in you back rather than let you take in a bounty that they can take for themselves. Not much of a religious man, though eh was raised catholic, he still believes in God however. Not friendly towards military personnel, especially officers, and even more unfriendly towards politicians. The people that Virgil is the most intolerant of is those who beat women and children; usually when Virgil sees this, the man whose doing the beating usually ends up on the floor wit hhsi nose or other bones broken. Virgil does have a lose side, filled with humor and the desire to have a good time, but doesn?t show it as much as he would like. He doesn?t like the process of law all that much. Believing instead that a man should make his own laws and moral standards, which is what Virgil does.


Background: Virgil was born in 1847 on a farm outside of Springfield Missouri, to a fairly poor farming family. Most of his teenage life was spent on the farm, rarely going into Springfield. But soon Virgil?s world would be turned upside down by the War Between the States. Though Virgil was too young to go off and join the war, his father and brother went of and joined the Union, leaving Virgil to take care of the farm and his mother and sister. Over the years Virgil became stronger and taller while he worked on the farm. It seemed like an eternity since he had last seen his father and brother. But it wasn?t long until his life at home was soon torn apart.

It was when Virgil was 18 and still living and working his farm when a group from Quantrill?s Raider?s rode into e farm one day, demanding food and shelter. When Virgil?s mother refused, they killed her and his sister and burned the house. Virgil was hunting at the time but seeing the smoke, rushed home, only to be met by the Raider?s. He tried to fight them the best he could be they simply hit him across the head with a rifle and left him lying in the mud. Virgil lied there for nearly two days, slipping in and out of consciousness. He wasn?t found until a group of Kansas Jayhawkers rode in. They had been chasing the very group that had burned Virgil?s home and killed his family. Seeing that there was nothing left for him in Missouri, he joined up with the Jayhawkers. Though they never found the group that had killed Virgil?s family, the Jayhawkers taught Virgil many useful skills while he rode with them, including marksmanship, tracking, bushwhacking, as well as knife fighting.

Virgil rode with the Jayhawkers for years, but soon left to go find his father and brother and see if they were still alive. It wasn?t too long afterward that Virgil heard about the Massacre at Osceola Mi

 

Character Sheet

Name: Father Samuel Joseph Russell ("Rev", "Preach", "Padre")

Age: 42

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Short brown hair, slightly graying. Clean shaven, thin features. Tall and Lanky, almost skeletal in his build, belying his true strength. Young-looking for his age, though the years are starting to show on his face and hands.

Apparel: Black canvas pants, Black long-sleeved shirt under "Preachers Vest", Black "Preachers" hat, black leather boots, oiled leather duster.

Skills: "The Power of Christ," new found ability to perform minor miracles in times of desperation or intense emotion. Knowledge of the "Works of Satan," or the Occult (various creatures of myth), and knowledge of their weaknesses, can repel certain creatures through use of religious texts or symbols. Gun play, ability to use pistols and rifles with accuracy.

Weaknesses: Led astray by the west, a Greedy, Alcoholic, Compulsive gambler. Lets his own skewed world view cloud his judgment, doesn't work well with others, very self absorbed.

Profession: Priest

Inventory:
1 - Scholfield .45 pistol
1 - Custom "Maire's Leg" .45 with holster
1 - Shoulder Rigging
1 - Indian Knife



Personality: Calm and reserved, but can turn all "Fire and Brimstone" in a second. Passionate about his religion, irrational, slightly crazy, believes he was spared by God to be his hand on earth and pass judgment on those he meets.

Background:

Father Russell was born and raised in what would be Texas, to a farmer and his wife. As a child he learned to hunt for food, and use a gun for protection, as well as his regular schooling. Eventually, to his mothers relief and his father's disapproval, he went on to a seminary where he became a priest. He was set up a small church near his home town where he preached for a few years, but as the congregation slimmed he felt that he could be used elsewhere. Eventually, the gold rush gave him his exit, and with the churches permission he moved to a small mining town in California, where his congregation seemed even smaller, and a majority of his time was spent giving the last rights to those who couldn't survive the rigors of the west.
Russell started to lose it. He sank into depression, which led to drinking. Drinking led to gambling. He left his church completely, and became a regular patron of a local bar. When his money ran out he made a few attempts at mining, but to no real avail. Theft and extortion were his new means of money gathering, and for five dollars he would bless your shovel, or forgive your darkest sins.
Then the quake struck, and Russell, by some miracle, survived. In the chaos of the fall out, death surrounding him, he saw a message from God. They were sinners, and he had been spared to do God's work on earth. To redeem those who could be redeemed, and squash those who could not be saved.
He struck out alone, eventually escaping the maze. He fell in with a small band of Indians, who had lost a large portion of their tribe in the quake. He learned all he could from them about survival and tracking, and more importantly about dark things their spirits foretold, of mythical creatures he remembered from childhood horror stories and strange happenings soon to come. He interpreted these prophesies as messages from the devil, telling the tribesmen their fates, and prepared to face these challenges.
Since then he has wandered the desert, entering each settlement he finds and preaching to them of the Lord's trials which have only just begun. Upon his leaving there is always a few unexplainable murders, usually of low-lives and murderers, so no one pays much mind.
Russell's path eventually wound into the

 

GM Approved...and why's the mod get an army?

Name: Katie Gurnison

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Appearance: Katie is tall, slender, and quite beautiful. She tries to appear less feminine with heavy leather riding jackets and a wide-brimmed hat, but she still stands out. Her hair is deeply red.

Skills: Katie is a skilled rider and a crack shot with a rifle. She's also very bright.

Weaknesses: Katie is a bit ineffective in hand-to-hand combat, having focused on her skill with the rifle. She's also a bit shy.

Profession: Explorer.

Inventory: A finely crafted Gewehr 98 rifle from Germany, an ammo belt, 100 metres of rope, saddlebags, survival gear, a long leather riding coat, wide-brimmed hat, black boots and a brown shirt and pants

Personality: Shy and soft-spoken, Katie will defend herself when the need arises. She's slightly uncomfortable with herself.

Background: Katie's parents were immigrants determined to explore every inch of California. Katie's childhood was remarkably different from her peers'. She spent as much time out on the wagon and on horseback as she did in a dress, curtsying for guests and family at dinner parties. Early on, she decided that she didn't want to be a pretty face at parties; she hated it, with every fiber of her being. Her parents encouraged her education and let her pursue her dreams...at a price. They also insisted on formality and the showy charade that was social life (Katie never understood why such fundraising was needed), attempting to set her up with the sons of wealthy landowners. When the quake came, Katie's parents were lost, and she inherited their small fortune. Selling the family home, she took off in a state of uncertainty. Her parents had guided her up until now, and now they were gone. She went west, determined to make a name for herself...though secretly, she wasn't certain why she continued exploring.

 

OOG: I have a factor to control that actually. It will come in handy for him (a lot in fact), but most Deadwood folks left the two American Governments to escape the confines of law and order, half probably have violent criminal records. At this time the town has no police force in the least. Guess what that army's second job is going to be, in this lawless town that makes the Cantina that Luke and Kenboi look like a Sunday Mass? Some powerful people in town aren't going to like him, like the Deadwood show inspired good ol' Al Swearganer.

Obviously I will allow more people to join, but no matter what the game begins Tuesday or the day after.

 

GM Approved!!!

Name: Trisha "Trish" James

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Appearance: [image=http://www.peacockspartyware.co.uk/images/56135xl.jpg]

Skills: Singing, Shooting, Combat

Weaknesses: Handsome guys, being timid when meeting new people sometimes

Profession: Singing saloon girl, Good shooter

Inventory:

- Horse: Female Peruvian Paso horse named Sally. She has light brown skin and blonde mane
- Weapons: Western Peacemaker pistol, four small daggers in her holster
- Ordinary Clothing: White Shirt with brown corset, brown skirt, and brown boots

Personality: Imaginative, Kind, Helpful, always ready for anything

Background: Growing up on a farm in Texas, Trisha James, who mostly is called Trish, loved adventure and fantasies. Whenever her mom or dad read childrens' books of fairy tales during bedtime stories, she'd picture herself being a part of the excitement. By the age of 17, she began to work in the small town of Austin. There she started her career at singing in a Saloon.

But Trish also continued to teach herself how to shoot well with pistols. Her father mostly taught her this when she was 14. While working at the Saloon, Trish heard rumors of a place called Deadwood. Many haven't returned from that place, and believed it was supernatural. Trish had the nagging feeling of adventure inside her, to find those missing people, and cherish her dream to be a heroine, like the stories from her childhood books.

 

GM Approved Character Sheet

Name: Maka Kangi (English: Bad Raven)
Age: 47
Gender: Male

Appearance:
[image=http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m54/Dinkus_Mayhem/Fantasy/nativeamericanart.jpg]

Skills:
~Superb rider, has riden horse since early childhood as is common for his people.
~Excellent marksman with thrown weapons (lance) and bow.
~Hand to hand combat, highly proficient in the use of a tomahawk and war club.
~Master at moving with stealth.
~Survival and tracking skills.
~Affinity with most animals, can calm them and sometimes get them to cooporate with what he wishes.
~Shaman knowledge.
~Able to speak many indian dialects, as well as being able to speak english.

Weaknesses:
~Pride, hates to admit being wrong.
~Distrust for the goverment and white men in general.
~Unwillingess to accept and/or use technology.

Profession: Sioux hunter, scout, warrior and shaman.

Inventory:
~Ball Head War Club
~2 Tomahawks
~Buffalo Lance
~Knife
~Bow, quiver of 2 dozen arrows.
~Flint and steel for creating fire.
~Waterskin
~Blanket, usable for sleeping.

~Horse: American Mustang. Name: Ciye (English: A Man's Brother)
[image=http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m54/Dinkus_Mayhem/Fantasy/Indian20Horse.jpg]

Personality: Bad Raven is a man of few words, proud and honest man who is wary of strangers, who does not make friends easily and people have to go a long way to earn his regard. Quick to anger when dealing with those he thinks of as ignorant. Bad Raven is also a man who strongly believes in the spiritual world, and is well versed in his peoples legends, beliefs and traditions.

All this considered, when he bonds with someone he is loyal to the end and will sacrifice anything for those he calls friend.

Background: A Sioux warrior from the plains of Wyoming where he was raised and spent most of his life. Though older and beyond his physical prime, he remains one of the most skilled hunter/warriors of the Comanche nation.

During his youth Bad Raven was considered a bit of a loner, and was prone to finding trouble of all kinds. Still, his skill as a hunter and warrior earned him much respect among his people and they were able to overlook his shortcomings. His father, a Shaman of great renown, tried to calm the boys restless spirit and teach him the ways of the spirits and Bad Raven learned them well. He is knowledgeable enough to have become a shaman, but his restlessness prevented him from settling down in such a way.

His people now live in fear of the United States Government, and see a very grim future for themselves. The Great Quake did little to change their situation, for good or bad. What interests them however is the strange occurrences happening across the land, especially rumors of beasts of legend and the claims of the return of magic.

Being a man of such varying skills, Bad Raven seemed the perfect person to investigate and hopefully learn the truth of what is going on in the world. This is an assignment he gladly accepted, and one he believes his ancestors had prepared him for. After gathering his favorite weapons and the best horse the nation had to offer, Bad Raven rode east to see what he could learn.

 

IC: Albert Swearengen
Gem Theater, Deadwood

This town was going to hell. It was a shame too; he had made a fortune here. He had created an Empire. The entire town, from the recently erected houses, that looked weak enough that merely blowing on them would knock the wooden things down, to the Strong sturdy businesses that stood impossibly high for cheap wood from which they crafted, all belonged to him, if not in name (few besides the Gem did) then in written fact. He didn?t bother trying to buy the mines of Ghost Rock and Gold out there, well he did own a few but they weren?t his main source of income. No where he made his riches was in the entertainment industry, and the main entertainment was Booze. Liquor was his game pure and simple. You might not go to his Saloon, you might to some Jerk who couldn?t even grow a mustache like Edward Canterbury?s or a blind fool like Paul Holmen?s joint, but you where still buying his booze. Any suppliers that went to went to Deadwood came to him first, none of the company was coming alive. Not that his Gambling or Female dancers didn?t bring him cash. There was a reason, no other Saloon had anything other a simple poker game or blackjack, or all the other girls came to work for him. No one dared defy him, until now.

P.G.T Beauregard was just the cherry on top of the pile crap Al was being forced to gulp down. First Bullock came into town, whose first order of business was supposed to be getting his Hardware shop built, but instead ending up being Sheriff. The Indians where putting the squeeze on the mines and trading routes, and had the gall to dress it up as ghost stories, to scare off the idiot redneck miners. Not to mention what happening to the trains, ever since the Deadwood, Dodge City line closed, everything went to hell. Although he was only an annoyance, at best, that European fellow Mireca entered the equation. He was out mines, both dried out and gushing out gold or Ghost Rock. Worst of all Pinketons?he would rather take a thousand Beauregard?s and their armies then a single Pinkerton. Then finally the one time Bullock is needed, when some freak in town is drinking people?s blood like a man who just found a well after wandering the desert for about fifty years, the man is struck down with Small Pox, lying on his back while the town went nuts.

Al sighed softly looking out of his Saloon?s fine windows that contrasted with his dirt stained floors, already regretting sending an invite to Beauregard, to come over and get an agreement on how to prevent any of the General?s men from deserting and take up prospecting on the other side of the Black Hills. Hmmm he couldn?t even remember if the wood was a reddish brown when he bought it. Didn?t matter, no one paid attention to the floor when they where getting hammered. All the noise that came from the crowed bar in the middle of the afternoon proved that. As Al looked at his patrons, a small cynical smile formed across his face. The was only enough room for a hundred people in here, but he had at least twice that. There was some good new in this mess. At he thought there was until the longhaired mountain of muscle, Will Lowey, came to him wide eyed. Al was far from what a man might call meek, also skinny as Al had a little bit of a beer guy, but Al found it funny a man like Will came ever with a look of fear to any body. The guy looked like he could take down a bear.

?Al, we have problems, Jenny Henderson is dead, and I don?t know where Jessie or Carmen is either.? Will said in an ashamed tone. All Al could do was drop his jaw.

?Your have to be kidding me! What is this, the 5th time this happened this month?? Al snarled, his hand slamming down on the bar counter, causing a pile of dust to fly up.

?Al, I suggest we keep this on the down low. If one Bullock?s people finds out about this, they might close us down until the killers caught.? Tom said softly ?He and his friends have been threatening doing for a year now anyway.?

? No kidding? Al spat in mock surprise that hardly covered up his venom. Al hung h

 

IC: Deputy Charles Tilock
Deadwood, Sheriff?s Office

He felt like cursing himself in the least, so he expected the newcomer bounty hunters to feel the same. No liked it when scum like Jack Slane where out of reach. He had no sympathy for them though, they where Bounty Hunter scum after all. They weren?t in the law enforcement business for love of peace and justice, they were in it for a quick buck. Just like those Pinkerton jerks, expect not as skilled and even worse.

The office was almost empty, save a few drunks in the cell behind his desk, and the men before him. Bullock was sick, Dan Moore, Dante Coffer, and Peter Prote where visiting the Doc seeing if they latest victim meet the end of the rest the same type death that the previous ?Vampire? murders, Jeffery Murphy and George Coffer where currently investigating a robbery that occurred on the last remaining railroad in town.

?Listen, Jack Slane is sadly safe here boys. He is wanted in the South, and it is President?s Grant?s position that the Union will not expedite Southerners or any Northerner who pledges loyalty and citizenship to the Union. I know seeing a Confederate General here might have made you think that not only is this not in Indian Country, but is in full control of the South. It isn?t! He?s only here to aid in the protection of this town and aid in the investigation. Trade might be equal here like it is the Maze, but for all intents and purposes this is under the joint rule of the North and the Indians. ?Charles said leaning on his chair lighting his expensive $ 1.00 Cigar, and jamming into his thin hawk like face.

He wasn?t as tall as the bounty hunters in this room, nor as muscular, he was a thin pale man after all. But that didn?t matter, he was the law here, they weren?t. This might be a makeshift Building erected in less than a week, but that didn?t make it different from any other Sheriff?s office anywhere else. It meant don?t mess the law?it can back up the claim that it is the freakin law.

? Listen I?m pretty sure there are other Marks in this town for you fine men to find?ah crap NOT YOU AGAIN!? Charlie yelled, as a tall old man, with a thick bushy white mustache entered the building in a fine black suit.

?Just listen, I prepared to offer you and your office $110 a person if you will lend your services. The Railroad needs that land sir, and there is nothing illegal about you helping?? The Tall Man muttered quickly hoping to utter a convincing argument before Charlie could open his mouth.

? No, its just immoral, get out of my sight! If you want spare hands for you dirty work?ask them!? Charlie yelled pointing at the Bounty Hunters and that dragged Jack Slane in here only tied up on Mule only a hour ago, when a came in telling them to let Jack go.

Surprisingly after a moment of inspecting them, the man in the black suit nodded.

?Not a bad idea sir, not a bad idea at all.? He said with a sly smile, as Charlie sighed with disgust, pushing his hat over his eyes.

?Pardon me gentlemen, my name is Abraham Milton, and I represent Ghaim Railroads?and I have a business proposition for the three of you.

TAG: Witch Doctor, Rallyfan, Darth Razma


IC: Doc Alexander Holiday
Outside Doc?s House, Deadwood

The Doctor did nothing but sneer at Calvin and the Father Russel. They had to joking, at least he hoped they where. Both had come in for different but equally stupid reasons.

?I might not be able to explain how she died Father, but she is NOT a Vampire! As for you, the Deputies walked by here a few moments ago, and as tried as they might, they could not connect the case to that of the Delivery boy who went missing.? The doc said, wiping his face with a thin white handkerchief. The jerks where in town for a few days and now they where sticking their noses in everything.

?Listen Padre, I will have the body ready for burial by tomrrow. You can come by inspect the body then, and prepare it for its finial resting place.? Alex said calming down, wiping his brow with the handkerchief yet again ? And Calv

 

IC: The Man Called Caine
Sheriff's Office

---

The Man Called Caine had seen a lot of places in what was, for all intents and purposes, his rather short life, and had met all sorts of characters. Together with Quint, he had apprehended some of the most dangerous and hardest criminals in the Union. He figured himself, then, a fairly good judge of character.

It was with this knowledge secure in his mind that he summarily decided that this deputy sheriff was both a coward and a hypocrite. Clearly, he was thinking all of them were money grubbers while he sat here, getting fat off of government paychecks and smoking expensive cigars. No, Caine didn't like this man in the least bit.

"Now, look here, 'Deputy,' I realize that the government may seem complacent about letting one of the deadliest murderers in American history get off scott-free, but that doesn't make it right. Slane has to answer for his crimes, whether he wants to or not, and we caught him, fair and square. And furthermore, it's quite clear on any map that this town sits [i]squarely[/i] in Indian country. You don't really expect Quint and me to buy this joint-possession bull..."

He was cut off by the sudden arrival of an old fart in an expensive black suit. Caine didn't need to hear the man's explanation to guess where he was employed. [i]?Pardon me gentlemen, my name is Abraham Milton, and I represent Ghaim Railroads?and I have a business proposition for the three of you."[/i] What was it with rich people and thinking bounty hunters were just hired guns? Caine couldn't speak for Virgil Cole, of course, but he operated under a pretty strict guidelines. It wasn't about money, it was about bringing justice to the half of America that everyone seemed to not give two spits about.

By now, Caine's opinion of the newcomer was clearly plastered across his bearded face. But there were formalities to uphold. "What sort of offer d'you mean, [i]compadre[/i]?"

[b]TAG: Rally, Witch Doctor, MIB[/b]

 

IC: Gerald Marinate
Canterbury Pub, Deadwood

It wasn?t like he had anything to hide from Tommy, in a way everything about the mine was actually it seemed. Besides he knew that Tommy heard about the murder of Hai Ling last night, and knew it took place at the mine. He just didn?t feel like reminding Lillard of it. Who would? This town was getting creepier by the day, so it wasn?t even like he was lying about the Ghost Rock mine drying up.

He felt like a kid who found out the haunted house was real, and finally figured out now was the time to spilt.

Thomas had the money, he had already seen to that, but now it was time to actually see if it would change hands. Gerald knew waiting around any longer, might make Lillard look around town a bit more. Give him time to ask more questions. Give him more time to find out how Hai died. Give him time to find out the Boggey man might not be real, but something that went bump in the dead of the night did, and it called Deadwood its home.

Gerald reached over and poured Lillrad another shot of Whiskey, and offered a hearty smile. If things went well after all, he would be out of town having broken even, thanks to the $1000 Tommy offered. With that he leaned back into his old creaky chair, letting the squeak ruin the charming thing he just did. The whole place was so shabbily built, it creaked and moaned like an oiled, but worn down clock grinding its gears. He wasn?t here to charm Tommy after all, even though that might help with the sell.

? So, the mine will be yours if you give me the $1,000 dollars, half of witch will go to my partner Hai?s family, and the other to me of course. You will have to still buy your own mining supplies of course. Is it a deal, Mr. Lillard ?? Gerald said offering a large black hand to Thomas.


TAG: Han Solo

 

IC: Quentin Radamus
Location: Deadwood Sheriffs Office.

*Over the years, Quint had learned that Caine was a master of many a card game. As such, he had developed what was possibly the pinnacle of any poker face in the world. He could look as if he was hanging on to every word while really planning to either talk the other person into what they wanted them to do, or give Quint the signal to make the final lead-based argument as it were.

Somehow this shriveling puke of a deputy was not getting the general idea. It was their bounty, pure and simple. There was a high paying bounty on his head, they tracked him down and were about to apprehend him before this peon had swooped in and carted him off to this excuse for a jail. Somehow an amateur bounty hunter, named Colt or some other damn thing, had gotten involved.

Quint had a hunch that big bad Seth Bullock had something to do with this. The fool couldn't keep law and order in his own burgh and wanted the credit for capturing this mass murdering scum.
As he contemplated this, he had to admire Caines' style. The man could make an argument while browbeating some uneducated hick for a tin-star a veritable art form*

"Now, look here, 'Deputy,' I realize that the government may seem complacent about letting one of the deadliest murderers in American history get off scott-free, but that doesn't make it right. Slane has to answer for his crimes, whether he wants to or not, and we caught him, fair and square. And furthermore, it's quite clear on any map that this town sits squarely in Indian country. You don't really expect Quint and me to buy this joint-possession bull..."

*Caine was interrupted in mid negotiation by some pompous windbag in a bad black suit. Quint took an instant dislike to him. The suit was cheap but tailored to look expensive. Those kinds of suits usually brought nothing but trouble and ugly deals*

?Pardon me gentlemen, my name is Abraham Milton, and I represent Ghaim Railroads?and I have a business proposition for the three of you."

*Quint was about to tell this Milton to go do something rather unflattering with his proposition, but Caine started in and beat him to it, ever the diplomat and negotiator*

"What sort of offer d'you mean, compadre?"

*As Caine inquired as to the nature of the offer, Quint turned his attention to the deputy. He didn't say a word, but the look on his face conveyed the following message.

"This can go one of two ways. The easy way would be to just give us what we want and let us go on peace. You don't want to know about the other way."*

TAG: Ramza, MIB, Witch Doctor

 

IC: Trisha James
Backstage of Gem Theater, Deadwood

Trisha James, who was sometimes called Trish, was brushing her hair quietly, staring at the mirror. Ever since she came to this town, thing's been different. It wasn't like home where you can care for the animals on the farm, playing in the meadows, and have a good time in a peaceful place.

Here at Deadwood, things were creepier. Scarier. The people were different, and if you gave them a friendly smile, they would look at you in a mean way. But Trisha didn't care. All she cared about was getting money to get into a good school...

But in the Saloon, there'd been rumors of people disappearing all of a sudden. What was the cause of this? Trisha didn't know, but wanted to find out. Sure there were hardcore guys out there who could do the job to find missing people... but Trisha wanted adventure. Excitement. Well'p, that was every girl's dream.

The young woman smiled, and continued to fix up her brown hair.

Tag: TheManinBlack

 

IC: Virgil Cole
Sheriff?s office, Deadwood

This was a waste of time. Thought Virgil, who became more annoyed as every minute passed with this Deputy, who obviously didn?t know his gun from his?well it didn?t matter. It wouldn?t? be long before Virgil would be out of this shoddily built excuse for a town and be on his way, maybe into the Oregon Territory, there had been rumors of some outstanding bounties in that area. But at this point, Virgil wasn?t sure if he wanted any of this bounty if it was going to cause this much of a fuss. The only reason he was here was because he had been trailing Jack Slane since Colorado, and wasn?t about to let him go. It wasn?t until two fellow bounty hunters named Radamus and Caine caught Slane that Virgil caught up with him, in a Deadwood none the less.

Caine, who was possibly the negotiator of the two, agreed to give Virgil a part of the bounty for Slane once they put him in custody. Granted it was a lot less than the full bounty, Virgil didn?t complain, he wasn?t that bad off anyway, he had taken a few high priced bounties within the past months that would set him for a few years. Radamus didn?t seem all that keen on the idea though, obviously he didn?t trust Virgil, but few did for that matter, and he didn?t trust many either. Well Radamus would be happy then that Virgil was going to walk out on the offer that was proposed to him by Caine. Virgil snapped out of his own personal thoughts, only to see an elder gentleman walk into the office, someone of high stature in the town or pretending to be. He hadn?t listened too much the Deputy had said, seeing it irrelevant to the situation, since he was insulting his kind in their line of work.

?Pardon me gentlemen, my name is Abraham Milton, and I represent Ghaim Railroads?and I have a business proposition for the three of you.? Said the elderly man, who was obviously looking for some men who could possibly do his dirty work. Virgil knew how these railroad men worked, he had dealt with men like him all his life. Men who would hire Bounty Hunters as one would hire Pinkertons. They used them to run Indians off their lands, all in the quest to make the next big railroad. In truth they would rather kill innocent Indian women and children rather than change the route of their railroad to avoid Indian land, and that was a quality that Virgil couldn?t stand.

?Well boys, looks like this bounties yours,? Said Virgil with a tip of his hat to the two fellow bounty hunters.

Virgil picked up his Sharps Rifle that had been leaning up against the deputy?s desk and turned to head outside. The railroad man made a quick motion to try and stop Virgil from walking out of the office, obviously interested in hiring him. Virgil just turned to the elderly gentleman.

?Sorry, my services aren?t for sale, good day to you sir,? Said Vigil simply. He tipped his hat to the man and walked out of the office, wanting to get out of this town as quick as possible. But first he had to pick up supplies and maybe even get a drink from one of the many saloons in the town. Virgil walked out of the dust filled office and into the bustling street of Deadwood. Wagons and horses communed down the main street, kicking up dust and causing an awful mess with the by product of a horses bole movement. Virgil took the pocket watch of out his vest pocket and looked at it; it was a quarter past twelve, the hottest point of the summer day. Which is why Virgil was dressed lightly today, in his black hat, buckskin pants, a white cotton button up shirt and his black vest. He walked slowly down the cheaply made sidewalk of the street; the cheap wooden boardwalk lined the storefronts, allowing passerby?s to look in at the stores possessions.

Virgil wasn?t interest in frivolities; he wanted just his basic load out of supplies and ammo and then get the hell out of this wretched town, that had been transformed from a decent town into a sepsis of greedy business men and even greedier miners. Virgil continued up the street after looking in a shop window at a

 

IC: General P.T. Beauregard
Location: Gem Theater Saloon

General Beauregard walked through the wooden doors, his nostrils filling up with the smell of the saloon. Western Saloons have a different sort of aura to them. The smell of cigar smoke, alcohol, sweat, and wood made a unique mixture.

It was crowded in the building. For a cursed town, Deadwood was surprisingly full. That was not something the General was expecting when he arrived in town a few days ago, but it did add to the mystery of it all. If the town was as busy as it was, why did Davis and the Yankees buckle it down so?

Made no sense at all.

His troopers fanned out around him, keeping the patrons a bit away from the general. This was something Beauregard was thankful for. Although there were plenty of Southerners up here, there were more Yankees. And these weren't sophisticated New Yorkers or Bostonians. No, all of these people were the dregs that the Union and the Confederacy couldn't take anymore. They were out here greedily lustin' for the ghost stone or gold. No honor, no loyalties, just a bunch of pirates and privateers in his opinion.

He spotted his contact, the proprietor of the establishment, and some would say the defacto mayor of the city, Albert Swearengen. Beauregard had come here on this man's request. He said there was some business to discuss.

While normally Beauregard wouldn't care in the slightest what this civilian thought, he was on an investigative mission. Oftentimes this did involve talking to the locals.

The General motioned his men towards the reserved table and slowly his group made their way over.

"Mistah Swearengen," the general said, tipping his hat as he arrived.

The man took off his coat and sat down on the chair facing the man.

"A playsure to meet you sur. Looks layke teh tymes ar treatin' you mighty fiyne heah."

He waited for the man to respond. Always good to have some small talk before business.

TAG: GM