The sun is shining maliciously over Corpus Christi. Local manpower had been sent out to rally in the northern Confederate states, leaving the city somewhat exposed to unwanted company. Van Cortlandt's gang has been patronizing the main street's vendors and establishments for two weeks now and even though they've been behaving, the city lawman Robbert Katz knew that it was only a matter of time before things kick off the hard way. Katz wasn't a man of patience and would have preferred to handle the dutch-born rogue his own way right away, despite the forty-four outlaws that surrounded the former. However, the sheriff was also receiving reports of a large Indian presence in the outskirts of the city, whose arrival strangely congregated with that of the Van Cortlandt's gang. Not wanting to commit to a fight on two fronts with limited manpower and resources, Katz was waiting. Maybe Van Cortlandt and the Indians were waiting for someone to make the first move too.1) Robert Katz is the sheriff of Corpus Kristi. His personal trait is Old Dixie Down. As a veteran of the Mexican-American war, his trait makes him experienced with all types of western weaponry and makes winning over dixie hearts easy. The trait ensures that Katz, as any true southerner, stays rugged and enduring of hardship and the elements. He is also strongly prejudiced against colored folk of any kind, especially Mexicans. He has been performing his duties towards the city and it's citizens, the white ones at least, diligently for the last decade and has won the sympathies and loyalty of the populace and his men, which will definitely come in handy.2) Lucas 'Lus' Bakker is one of Van Cortlandt's men. His personal trait is Cut Eyelids Staredown. His trait makes him a psychological menace that never plays around, never manipulates, never takes the back alley in order to gain the upper hand, but rather faces those against him in an unholy measurement of grit and balls, preferring to overwhelm them with his borderline psychopathic presence. His trait ensures fearlessness - his hand never shakes, his voice never cracks, his foot never stumbles in uncertainty. He sports a belt heavy with dozens of hanging scalps, a small one with Wichita braids interlinking with blond locks catches the eye instantly. He is on Van Cortlandt's good side, since both of them are Dutch and like to reminiscent about the old country.1/3
3) Salt Upon Wounds is one of the three Indian leaders that are in charge of over a hundred native americans, camping outside the city. His personal trait is [Hundred Little Blood Trees] that make him the epitome of stealth, disguise and close quarters fighting. As the white man lost his touch with nature long ago, the native spirit is the last bastion of the profound and the otherworldly, and as such, Salt Upon Wounds's trait gives him access to the realm of mystical encounters and out of body experiences. His persona becomes a rally point for those who share racial blood with him.He is a Sioux and his men are too, another leader is a Lakota called Dead Rock, both of them are far away from home. And there is the Comanche Playful Cloud and his men, all of them conjoined in this strange amalgamation of small tribal forces that would usually never get along. But now is a time where the plight of the red man can be felt over great distances and the subconscious realization that the time of glory and freedom of the tribal soul is coming to an end has moved those men here, at Corpus Christi...Floating traits:[Remember us in Babel?] - the holder of this trait is more than just a polyglot. Not only he can communicate freely with mexicans, indians, dutch merchants and other whites in their queer languages but he understands the meaning behind every horse's snore and tingling, the cackle of coyotes, the intricate dances of the vulture birds. This deeper understanding of all living beings has created a place in his heart for some empathy. [Dear Caroline, ...] - melancholic feelings for a love long gone makes the holder of this trait into an insomniac who traverses the night, dances naked under the rain, proclaims poetry of all kinds under the moon and stars as his only witnesses, most of the time. Not sleeping for prolonged periods has given the holder's weapon arm an uncomfortable twitch and headaches. Despite that, there are some things in this part of the world that can only be observed while everyone else is asleep and you aren't. if Lucas is chosen, his hand will tremble in rare cases[Twice Scalped] - white bone shines bright on a dome under the Texas' sun. The holder of the trait doesn't have any skin or tissue over the top of his skull after two violent altercations in the past. By touching around, he seems to have found something carved out in the exposed bone of his skull, a 'parting gift if he survives' - his second violent benefactor had said before leaving him to die. This experience has left the holder with tremendous pain tolerance, proper intimidation factor and spitefulness for the fact that his scalp is dangling on someone's belt right now. Oh, and he is into hats. 2/3
The main character is:>Robert Katz >Lucas 'Lus' Bakker >Salt Upon Wounds Pick one floating trait for him>[Remember us in Babel?]>[Dear Caroline, ...]>[Twice Scalped][3/3]
>Salt Upon Wounds>[Remember us in Babel?]The Anti-Judge build
>>6080317Are you the QM who ran that quest where we roleplayed Christian hunting eldritch abominations during the colonization of the western US and made friends with some native Americans? If so welcome back.>Lucas 'Lus' Bakker >[Remember us in Babel?]
>>6080317>Robert Katz>twice scalped>when i became the sheriff, this town was awash in negro runaways and drunken red men. That would have been bad enough, but then that herd of abuellas and fat faced broods of candy stealing cretens came with their black dolls eyes and homespun injun clothing. A mixture of the very lowest of spain and the vilest of the red men, this unending swarm of indio locusts. A white woman dare not let her children near one of these savages, and so they put on dresses and shoes, in mockery of civilization.[If i can be the sheriff, ill wax on in a very racist, and do my best to contribute prose]
>>6080323>>Robert Katz>>[Dear Caroline]Voting for the guy that has the most to lose in his story. And it obviously goes well with this great weakness that leaves him awake at night.
>Lucas 'Lus' Bakker>[Remember us in Babel?]Time to put the fear of God into every living thing.
>>6080323>Lucas 'Lus' Bakker >[Dear Caroline, ...]
>>6080323Lucas 'Lus' BakkerTwice ScalpedPsychomaxxingThis is actually the second time I've seen BM on here, lol.
>>6080331 | >>6080341 - different guy | >>6080350 | >>6080398 - agreed | >>6080438 | >>6080450 | >>60805454 for Lucas, 2 for Robert, 1 for Salt Upon WoundsLucas gets [Remember us in Babel?], as majority vote from the people who picked himUpdate in the evening
Too long of a lingering here was a common sentiment among the outlaws, and that was a week ago. But staying a full fortnight in a place like this was ludicrous. Corpus Christi is a proper port town and the numerical advantage of the locals was nothing to be trifled with, even though the fittest of the citizenry went to scare away the yanks up north. Van Cortlandt explicitly ordered his men to pay for the services they used and to keep away from trouble with the locals. He surely had a plan, his boys thought, but the wait was making them lose their edge, their greybacks were rapidly declining in patronage of brothels and saloons which was making them agitated as they weren't the money management sort. The instruction to keep on the lookout for a guy with the vague description of being mestizo from the Spanish colonies, was the only clue that they had for the things to come. Lastly, probably the worst from their grievances, was the fact that the locals were starting to get used to them.It's night time. The room is filled with smoke, hushed grunting and grease stench. Lucas Bakker is sitting at a table playing euchre with some of his comrades in trade. The money for fancy establishments ran out, yet they insist on making us company he thinks to himself as he scans the soot ridden ceiling of the building, then the several watchful lawmen that are seated near the door. He unhooks a scalp, carrying bright red hair, from his belt and throws it in the pot.This one is from your sister, Mac. the Dutchman says. Next to call is the ginger McAlister, another killer, who grunts an insult back and raises by placing a golden tooth in the middle of the table. After him goes Glen Virginia, then Kurt the German, then 'Magpie' Lou - the biggest degenerate that the New Orleans' slums ever birthed. The game goes on for a while, some of the men are drinking cheap liquor heavily, yet silence remains prevalent, that's how Lucas 'Lus' Bakker likes it.1/2
>>6080720The equilibrium is disturbed by a group of already rowdy cattle ranchers who must be just arriving in town, the smell of farm animals becomes prevalent in the beat down saloon. One of the cowboys notices the hunched back and weird face that the already drunk Billy Boy makes, a man in his late thirties and the last representative of the gang in the establishment. The farmhand starts making fun of him, throws remarks to his buddies at first, Billy Boy ignores him. Billy always hunches his back and goes into a state of sullen silence when he plays cards drunk - Makes me smarter he said once. The cowboy makes his jests more apparent and loud, Billy ignores him again.Lucas...>ignores the farmhand, he feels out his type and realizes that the cowboy isn't one to escalate the situation further than verbal level [Remember us in Babel?]Lus follows the orders of Van Cortlandt and unknowingly utilizes the favorite conflict resolution method of king Louis XIV>invites the cowboy at the table, lets him play a hand, lets him see the pot... a shrunken head, a golden tooth, a ginger scalp, pair of thumbs and coins from all over the Union, sometimes such curiosities are problem solvers on their own >turns his chair towards the cowboy, puts a smirk on his face and starts tapping the steel buckle of his scalp-ridden belt with a fingernail [Cut Eyelids Staredown]Clack, clack, clack the finger goes... Life is a zero-sum game. Lus enters a sophisticated and deeply troubled mental state in which he can resolve problems only by coming out as the winner in the end. Oh, and the gang's reputation must be upheld from slander of weakness.>turns towards the lawmen sitting in the far end, next to the saloon's doorLucas looks around his band of unkept vagrants and implores the authorities - 'Officers, assist us - the tax paying silent majority, and resolve the grievance of that troubled shit smelling gentleman'2/2
>>6080722>turns his chair towards the cowboy, puts a smirk on his face and starts tapping the steel buckle of his scalp-ridden belt with a fingernailwe ain't no french kingplus if we want to be boss, we're going to have to give the boys what they want
>>6080722>>turns his chair towards the cowboy, puts a smirk on his face and starts tapping the steel buckle of his scalp-ridden belt with a fingernail
>>6080722>>[Cut Eyelids Staredown]The people is already getting used to the gang no? We better stop any more greviances
>>6080722>turns his chair towards the cowboy, puts a smirk on his face and starts tapping the steel buckle of his scalp-ridden belt with a fingernail [Cut Eyelids Staredown]
>StaredownReally interesting stuff thus far.
>>6080836>turns his chair towards the cowboy, puts a smirk on his face and starts tapping the steel buckle of his scalp-ridden belt with a fingernail [Cut Eyelids Staredown]
Several ranchers participate in the mocking of the hunchback man, the first one to start now being the loudest. The target of the insults has the face of someone who survived a stroke. The card players stay silent and unassuming until the start of a dull metallic clanking. The cowboys shift their attention to a blond man of average height and build that has heavily tanned freckle ridden face, contrasted strongly by two light grey eyes. They are so light that it seems that the edges of each iris disappear into the surrounding white. A quick look down and there is the source of the sound - the rhythmic tapping of a finger on a belt buckle. That belt? Made of brown buffalo skin, with ornamented bone and metal, it was now carrying a multitude of salted scalps. All shades of black and brown hair can be found hanging on it, some are braided, others hang loose like a horse's tail. The braids of the Nahua, Purépucha, Apache, Totonac, Otomí and Comache women can be recognized on there by those who have traversed more extensively. On each side of the belt buckle, where a ferocious trigger finger is now tapping, a scalp of minuscule size, carrying blond locks, had its hairs interlinked with one having raven black indian hair of the same diameter. Now profusely sweating, one of the more timid cowboys recognizes this particular type of hair arrangement - he had seen it on a poster promoting advancement of the fellowship between whites and reds, somewhere in downtown Houston. Glorified coat hanger of pain and sorrow, that belt... the herdsman thinks to himself as he and his buddies slowly grow quiet and turn their backs to the card players, trying to save face from their retreat by ordering alcohol from the scared bartender.1/2
>>6081203The problem is neutralized but this is not enough for Lus. Where is the ecstasy of total satisfaction if he doesn't witness humiliation and complete defeat. He jumps from his chair and with several leaps he has his hands on the cowboy that started it all, trowing him on the ground. Another cowboy, who very much resembled the grabbed one, pulls an old five-round Colt Walker but before he has time to even cock it the ginger McAlister had already put a hole in his throat, the bullet shattering his spine. The quick death leaves a bad taste in Lus's mouth. In a calm frenzy his bowie knife is already out, slowly contouring a huge piece of skin off the distraught herdsman. The latter passes out from the pain as the skin of the scalp, forehead and eyebrows leave his skull. McAlister has the rest of the cowboys at his sights, everyone else, except Billy Boy, - already up and facing the lawmen at the door, caressing their pistols. The lawmen exit the building slowly before things get out of hand even more, probably instructed to keep away from trouble by that old fart Kurt the German whispers to Glen with a shit eating grin.Scalp blood is forming in a puddle somewhere behind them.Good coin awaits him as a freak in the Barnam Museum. All make sure he lives. Lucas says as he gesticulates for the rest of the cowboys to get the scalped one out of here.The Dutchman walks back to the card table and throws the fresh scalp in Billy Boy's coin pile, he was the newest recruit in Van Cortlandt's gang. Face twisted in sullen silence and hunched over, he hasn't even moved a muscle. All sit down to finish their hand. Left bower is shown. Billy Boy wins the pot. He erects his spine with a crack, his face returns to its normal expression. Everyone watches his stretches.Curious feller you are.Have the scalp back in good will, I ain't a collectioner.Our Lus never keeps male scalps for himself. Magpie Lou says with a disgusting grin and reaches over the table to grab it.___________________________________>Two anons roll ' dice+1d20 -5 ' for the upcoming meet with Van Cortlandt. Threshold for success: 10Modifier: -5 for breaking a promise made to a dear friend
Rolled 13 - 5 (1d20 - 5)>>6081205
Rolled 19 + 5 (1d20 + 5)>>6081205
Rolled 8 - 5 (1d20 - 5)>>6081205mhm>>6081235you gotta do dice+1d20+-5 don't ask why
Rolled 7 - 5 (1d20 - 5)>6081235This anon's roll still counts right?>6081205
>>6081221 | >>6081235It's deep into the night. Lucas and the boys enter the temporary headquarters of the gang from a convenient entrance - an isolated brothel positioned in the southern outskirts of Corpus Christi, out of sight, out of mind. Van Cortlandt was trying to play it cautiously, until now. An armed crowd split in two fills the spacious entrance of the building. On one side is the sheriff Katz and his men, a gentleman in his fifties with a substantial height and build, grey hair and salted beard. On the other side - Ruth Van Cortlandt and the rest of the gang. He is a huge man, even for dutch standards, towering over everyone in attendance, with dark hair, blue eyes and prolonged badly stitched scar running across his forehead. He was from Altmaar, the same as Lucas, and the two often reminiscent together about it, even though they had never met in the old country. Both men are now face to face, so to speak, since Robert Katz is a full head shorter than Van Cortlandt. Lucas surmises that they have been talking for some time.... I told you ever since you and your posy came here, if you are responsible for single hair falling off a christian head, someone will be biting the dust. Katz emphasizes the last part. Now I have scalping and a murder on my hands, by your people. That's a lot of christian hair, dutch, you have a tab to pay.It was self-defense, those drunken peasants were sullying the reputation of my men without cause. Not to mention that they were armed and gunsling thirsty. Slander and threats to one's moral and bodily integrity shouldn't be tolerated in a proper Christian settlement as this one, no? Van Cortlandt adds details to strengthen his case. Word travels fast... Lucas thinks to himself.Even if it was a shootout, it would still be punishable, but understandable if it was made in hot blood. But this... savagery like this won't be tolerated in a white city. Katz gestures something that likely indicates the scalping in the saloon, or maybe he was making some veiled jest for Van Cortlandt's forehead scar. The weight of one's words carry consequences. Those unfortunate men were taught of that today. Van Cortlandt responds.Under the brows? Your lapdog cut the cowboy's brows, along with skin going to the back of the neck. He has exposed vertebrae for fucks sake!I was told that your men were present in the establishment, why didn't they do something to deescalate the situation?Listen punk, I have been scalp-souveniring and killing before you left your cheap german knock-off of a country and found yourself terrorizing this beautiful land. You either send the men responsible for the assault to me by tomorrow evening or I'm coming heavy for your head. Katz maintains a steel gaze. By tomorrow evening. he repeats and leads his men outside. 1/3
>>6081937(rolled 19 - 5 = 14, success)Silence endures for a few moments. Lucas sees subtle smiles and hears excited comments from the rest of the gang, it's understandable, they might be finally seeing some action. His train of thought is interrupted by a sharp gesture from Van Cortlandt indicating a desire to follow him. The boss leads him to a decent bedroom, that is filled with a pleasant aroma coming from an unfamiliar wood stick, held by a beautiful mexican girl. Van Cortlandt makes her leave and faces the other dutchman. Wat dacht je, Lus?! I specifically told you, and everyone else, including the hot head Morisson, to lay low and stay put until further notice. Everyone was doing their part, even fucking Morisson, so imagine my surprise when One-eyed Hudson, of all people, comes and briefs me on what happened a minute before that bebaarde hoer comes storming in.The boys are tired, Ruth, I am tired. Lucas was the only man in the gang who could address the boss by his first name. I'm tired of this goody-two-shoes game that we are playing. The men have already spent all their money, are restless and uneasy all day long. I don't even know why we are here 'cause you're definitely not telling me anything. Two weeks ago, when you told us to cut the telegraph lines, I thought that we would me making an easy quick-bust-go. And for two weeks the only one seeing action is Clyde and his men, catching messengers send by the sheriff to Fort Alice.2/3
>>6081940All should come to fruition soon, my friend. Van Cortlandt slumps his massive body on a wooden chair, not wide enough to support his wide back. Your stunt today definitely sped things up, so there will be a slight change of plans. You are going to negotiate with the indians on my behalf. Pick a man to go with you and be back by noon, tomorrow.>the ginger McAlisterLus's best friend, aside from the boss, since he likes silence just as much as him. The Irishman had saved his life on several occasions and has the habit of putting a notch on the butt of his rifle for every indian that the gun has killed. Years ago he was struck with a Patawomeck arrow and it's head is still there, deep in his ribs, not knowing that it's slowly traversing towards his heart. >Glen VirginiaStill just a kid, Glen spawns from Virginia and is a virgin, sealing the fate of his nickname. Around a campfire near Monterrey last year he said that he sees his mother's face in the women he is about to force himself on and can't do it.>Billy BoyThe newest and weirdest recruit. The guys in the gang say that he survived a comanche pillar of torture for several days, judging by the scarred nerve endings and mutilated musculature along his body, earning their respect. That has to fuck with your mind one of the boys had said a day before they entered Corpus Christi.You are sending me off when Katz already told you he is coming for your throat? Yes.Ruth, you do understand that there are boats, coming and going everyday in the port. The sheriff has definitely send out a message, there will be reinforcements arriving to aid him at some point.This is exactly what I am hoping for. A devilish smile dances on Ruth Van Cortlandt's face.A brief Alright follows and Lucas opens the door to exit.Hey Lus, I have your back, can I count on you having mine? Lucas...>nods>exits the room in silence3/3
>>6081289>dice+1d20+-5damn>>6081946>the ginger McAlister>nods
>>6081946>Glen Virginia>SilenceThe boss does not even tell his second in hand about his plans? Fuck 'em
>Glen VirginiaHe can be molded. >nods
>>6082137 | >>6082220 | >>60822792 for Glen2 for Lucas nodding
The steamboat is slowly and relentlessly advancing towards Corpus Christi's harbor, creating a thick overflowing screen of black coal smoke. The old flag of New Spain and that of the state of Yucatan can be seen waving on top of it's decorative mast. It's early morning, the sun is red and low on the horizon with black clouds surrounding it, both natural and artificial.Lucas Bakker is watching the ship's arrival in the city from horseback while climbing a sand dune, just outside the southern side of town. Next to him is young Glen. Two pairs of spurs clank and their horses spring into trot, their direction is north-west. The dune ascend is soon over and the two mares speed up their pace into canter. Finally dry patches of grass signal the beginning of the local high plateau and one's sight can now cover a vast space of almost empty land. Somewhere in the far distance several fires burn, indicating the presence of a camp. A single horseman approaches.He recognizes them and they - him, it's one of Clyde's men, patrolling for possible messengers sent by the sheriff. Who do I owe the fucking pleasure of yer visit, Lus? The boss, sent us for a visit to red nigger town.Clyde tells us to keep 'r distance from 'em yet they've been awful quiet. Just like us, you know. thin lips form a smile. Lucas nods.It's good that yer taking the Virginia boy. Maybe in there 'be a red woman that won't look like his mother. Gnarly cackle follows. Fuck off, Crab Glen doesn't like these jokes.Once yer back in town send the boss m'love, will ya he addresses Lus and twists the reins of his horse, continuing his patrol. Some of Clyde's men had deserted the gang using the convenience of their patrolling position for a smooth nightly escape. The boss didn't want to pursue them, despite Lus's protest of a possible morale drop. Some must definitely question his leadership, no doubt about that. Fixated on keeping his force in the city, Ruth didn't want his price to slip through his fingers just for the sake of a few lost bodies. His price, whatever it is, better be worth it. Different thoughts battle themselves under a blond scalp. Scalps. Lus left his scalp belt with McAlister, it would have been rude to show up to red niggerdom with the scalps of their cousins, he thought. There was a rumor that the disappeared men were actually killed by the indians. 1/2
>>6082529Human figures are now recognizable on the horizon, the two men are close enough to spectate different arrangements and styles of paint smear on beautiful war horses. Clyde's scouts had briefed Lucas on the several tribal parties that made the camp and having the knowledge of the fact that indian names were often subject to a change in their culture, depending on the way an individual carried himself, Lucas decides to approach the camp from the...>Lacota side, headed by Dead Rock Aho! Metakuye oyasin, I am a bearer of a message addressed to the worthiest among you... [Remember us in Babel?]>Sioux side, lead by Salt Upon WoundsI come from Hesapa and salute the Great Spirit. If you are of his people let me speak to the finest of your warriors...>Comanche side, with Playful Cloud being in charge'Enemies of all, huh. Hey, Cochise...' [Cut Eyelids Staredown]2/2
>>6082531>>Lacota side, headed by Dead Rock>Aho! Metakuye oyasin, I am a bearer of a message addressed to the worthiest among you... [Remember us in Babel?]
>>6082531>>Comanche side, with Playful Cloud being in charge>'Enemies of all, huh. Hey, Cochise...' [Cut Eyelids Staredown]
>>6082531>Comanche sideWe will want these agressive assholes on our side
>>6082531>>Lacota side, headed by Dead Rock
Rolled 2 (1d2)>>6082575 | >>6082597 | >>6082598 | >>60826432 for the Lacota, 2 for the Comanche side, rolling
>>6083234typo, meant 1 for lacota, update in a bit
Lus is striding with angry steps across the filth ridden camp, responding to every attempt of holding him in fluent comanche dialect, taking the reds by surprise. Glen's closely following. In the field after their tents he sees naked men taking their morning shit, to his right warriors are applying war paint across their face, war horses grunt impatiently, their heads, necks and mane covered in thick red paint too. Some are carrying archaic weaponry, others walk around with the latest yankee rifles, not a single face is showing any type of emotion, beardless stoic faces are all around. Some women of different races can be seen attending to this and that across the camp, there are white ones too. The Dutchman spits.Lucas hears moaning, few more steps and he finds the source. It is someone suffering end stage cohabitation with a comanche pillar of torture. The unfortunate man is tied to an ornamented wooden pillar with his head upside down. Small hole on his neck releases blood droplets in a steady stream, not letting the victim get too much blood in his brain. His shoulders are dislocated, his face peeled off, many major muscles - removed with great attention, not a single blood vessel has been ruptured, many now hanging like loose steel wires, twitching wildly with every heart pump. The man is wearing a necklace of his own fingers. What's left of his face is a red bloody mess, the only different colors are those of his broken teeth and the sky blue of his eyes. It's a white man. It's hard to say, even after staring, but Lus thinks he recognizes him - some frenchman from the gang that had beef with Magpie Lou over some bullshit back in New Orleans. The Dutchman spits again.Several hands now apprehend Lus, he has to wait for their leader. A somewhat young comanche appears, his hair is clean and loose, wearing only moccasins, has a smile on his face. You want to talk to me? Playful Cloud asks.Are you the boss?My people aren't any good as teachers, where did you learn our language?So you are the boss. I have a proposition from a man who is an enemy of your enemy.Every white man is my enemy. Why should I listen to another white man, a white man without any scalps at that...A sharp and precise movement follows, a movement trained ten thousand times. The head of the man confined in the embrace of the comanche pillar splits by a .44 caliber Colt 1860 projectile.White men having to go through this... ain't right. Lus holsters the weapon just as quick.Playful Cloud gestures him to follow and enters a tent.Cont.
>>6083472Lucas enters the tipi with Glen waiting outside and sits cross legged across Playful Cloud. The Dutchman pulls out a prolonged wooden box and passes it forward. The comanche opens it and takes out a silver smoking pipe, a gesture of goodwill from Van Cortlandt. He throws it from one hand to another with childlike innocence. Lus notices a white woman laying in sleeping skins behind him. The warlord finally looks at him and speaks, Do you have any liquor?No.What does the iron horse carry?The steamboat? I'm not sure, reinforcements for the city probably.Silence endures while the young indian fiddles with the pipe's holes.So what do you want from me?To attack the city at sunset, my boss will fight against the town lord, you will overwhelm the latter by opening a different front. What are you looking for in this city?The same thing as you. the same devilish smile that Lus saw on Ruth's face appears. Also I get to choose first what I take from the plunder.Lucas responds with:>"I can't guarantee you that.">"Sure." (Lie)And one more thing Playful Cloud coffs The guy outside was a worthy offering for Paháh, he almost didn't scream, something quite rare for a milk face. And you killed him before his spirit made an exit.What are you getting at?Someone needs to replace him. Offer your companion outside to Paháh's pillar, or yourself, I don't care. I promise on His name that I will attack the town lord tonight. But there needs to be someone on that pillar, otherwise we don't fight.Lucas...>offers Glen to the pillar of torture"You have seen enough of this wretched world, boy. This is the fate that awaits anyone traversing our path..." Lucas thinks to himself. "You can have him."'Good!' The indian responds while filling his new silver pipe with tobacco.>offers himself to the pillar of tortureLus scribbles a few words on a piece of paper and gives it to Glen, as a messenger. "If I were rain that joins sky and earth together, why couldn't I join two hearts?", tears flow on someone's cheek far away from here, sad and forlorn.>rejects Playful Cloud's military aid and goes back to Van Cortlandt empty handedIncoming dice roll.
>>6083499>"Sure." (Lie)>offers Glen to the pillar of tortureWe'll avenge Glen when the time comes.
>>6083499>"Sure." (Lie)>offers himself to the pillar of tortureInteresting.
>>6083499>"Sure." (Lie)>offers himself to the pillar of torture
>>6083499>"I can't guarantee you that.">offers himself to the pillar of tortureStrange choice.
>>6083499>cant guarantee that>rejects Playful Cloud's military aid and goes back to Van Cortlandt empty handedLying is for sly dusky folk that cant rely on a good number of trained guns, and these red niggers are asking a too steep price. We can attack them with the town then take the town for ourselves.
>>6083499>Reject the military aid alltogetherSomething tells me playful cloud will attack at sundown despite what he says
>>6083676>>6083987wine critic ahh comments>>6084090>lying is for sly folkagreed>>6084175:^)_____________________I will let the voting continue for one more day, since the current choices weigh in towards the game ending option (what were you thinking anons?). New votes will be counted only if the id has at least one more post in the thread to ensure there won't be scum voting. And if the situation stays the same I'll do my best to provide a beautiful blood meridian ending to the story
>>6084199>reject military aidretardsp.s.I posted>>6080745on different device
>>6084199Switching over to >cant guarantee that>rejects Playful Cloud's military aid and goes back to Van Cortlandt empty handedSince nobody seems willing to sell Glen.
>>6083499>"Sure." (Lie)>rejects Playful Cloud's military aid and goes back to Van Cortlandt empty handedMostly been lurkin but I did put my foot in the door with the last vote. Also I'd like for everyone to appreciate qm's imitation of McCarthy's prose during dialogues, thank god for color coding
oh christ I never thought I'd see the day blood Meridian would get a quest for those who don't know your in for a hell of a ride.
>>6083676 | >>6083680 | >>6083987 | >>6084090 | >>6084175 | >>6084281 | >>6084286 | >>6084383 - I appreciate you anonAlready agitated and feeling taciturn [i](entered the camp with [b][Cut Eyelids Staredown][/b])[/i], Lus spits out[i][red]You can have the first pick from the loot, but no man of mine is going on your pillar.[/red][/i]Playful Cloud doesn't seem to mind his state and responds almost jokingly[i]It's Paháh's pillar... don't you want to try it for yourself? After the hooks bury deep inside the flesh, when you dance for hours with them, when the harsh sun has caressed you for a whole day... what wonderous things you will witness[/i] the half-naked indian touches several big scars on the front of his torso.[i][red]I need no hallucinations[/red][/i] and Lus stands up, leaving the tent.After a few steps he feels a hand on his shoulder.[i]You kill our sacrifice and now you will just walk away?[/i] Playful Cloud is right behind him.[i][red]You are keeping the gift, so I'll do just that.[/red][/i] [i]Only life can pay for life.[/i]The atmosphere is tense, they are surrounded by comanche, all of them stoic and energetic in their stillness, like coiled springs waiting release. Lucas now feels like a dog that is getting kicked around. This isn't any good. He needs to have the last laugh. He needs a victory. He needs to be the winner. He needs to take their souls.Lus shrugs the red hand off his shoulder, takes several big steps and places his own on the torture pillar with a thud.[i][red]I'll let Paháh decide if my life is the thing he really wants[/red][/i] the Dutchman says through his teeth while unholstering one of his Colts. Six cartridges drop on the dry ground and the he loads a single chamber of the revolving cylinder. In the next moment the cylinder is spinning wildly. It's inertia is ended by the placement of the cylinder back in its proper resting position. The gun is cocked with a metallic [i]click[/i], it's barrel finds itself behind Lus's right ear.Only Paháh seems to know that the bullet is in chamber 2.>Only one anon rolls dice+1d6
Rolled 6 (1d6)>>6084832
Not today, injun gods
Seems I have lost my IP so no more color coding, the structure of the dialogue will have some changes.______________________________>>6084839 rolled 6, when the lethal number was 2The hammer of the gun only clicks, Lucas is standing tall. "I witness your bravery, white man." The smile of Playful Cloud can't get any bigger. The comanches respect shows of grit."Now let me witness yours" the Dutchman points his pistol toward the indian. In a second several comanche step forward but Playful Cloud stops them with a sharp gesture, his smile never leaving his face, unflinching, his face resembling that of a strange porcelain puppet.One chamber has been tried, the verdict - found empty. The lethal one is still number 2.>Only one anon rolls dice+1d5
Rolled 2 (1d5)>>6084854
Fate has spoken.
>>6084855this is kino, update in the evening
>>6084855WHITE MAN MAGIC TOO STRONG FOR YOU
>>6084855Dark clouds continue to form in the far distance, a stormfront gathers strength over the Mexican Gulf. The woman from the tent is sullenly caressing the punctured face of the late Comanche leader, his body - limp, his blood - welcomed in a hurry by the dry earth. "You killed him, swine, you killed him... the noblest of all, the most fearless and wonderful, you killed him you trice forsaken..." she repeats again and again, pulling her hair in wild dismay. The Dutchman grabs the woman and soon what's left of her hair is separated from her head. "What was that now?" Lucas asks.Seconds pass in complete silence. It's the shock. Then pain overwhelms her senses and her scream of deep agony and lamentation rises in pitches of great magnitude, piercing the Comanche camp throughout."Ah, an excellent response" he says, cupping his ear. A new scalp gets tucked in his belt, blood splatter already coagulating.Look at the man! Feet dancing upon a dead man's corpse, cracking ribs and bones in a chest without heartbeat. He has turned into a painless collector of eyeballs, the eyeballs of those around him.Pointing at the dead man he asks "How can a butcher have authority over flesh and bone if he wasn't the one that made it manifest?!"Answer can't be given."Who has dared a cloud to battle on a whim and stricken it down from its dominion?! Am I not the conductor of coming things to pass? Who if not the Great Spirit has given me this pluck?! I am God's accomplice! The twice blessed! The honored with divine authority! Paháh's divine twin, Malal is my name. You are looking at him!"Distant thunder reaches everyone's ears. Glen is on his knees, others have joined him. Soon everyone is chanting, screaming."Dark Cloud! Dark Cloud! Dark Cloud! Dark Cloud! Dark Cloud...""It does look like rain" the man says._____________________________________________(to be continued tomorrow)
>>6085086>Playful Cloud killed by...>Dark Cloud?I see
>>6085086Absolute cinema, almost makes me sad that we're going to slaughter every single one of our injun followers.
>>6085419thanks anon, got to make the good rolls count____________________________________Solid black wall of clouds marks the end of the horizon. Seagulls cover the skies in great numbers over Corpus Christi using the strong winds to cruise effortlessly. Ambassadors of the coming hurricane, these winds. The steamboat has dropped anchor in the harbor, no seagull browses the sky above it, creating a strange bald spot in the aerial visage. Lucas and his new men are riding down the sand dune, going back to the city, and the Dutchman asks Glen what that phenomenon is. He doesn't know. Lus asks a nearby comanche, Three Eyes is his name, why the seagulls are keeping distance from the steamboat"That's what the Little Blood Trees do" he answers and spits over his shoulder, showing that he doesn't want to talk about it.Thirty war painted comanches are riding with Lucas now, only the older and more mature of their group decided to stay back and join in with Salt Upon Wounds's men. "Glen, run forward and alert the gang for our coming, I don't want anyone shooting at us 'cause they got spooked by some paint." Lus says and Glen nods, prodding his horse forward.The town looks eerily empty. 'Locals must have started mustering with the old fart' the Dutchman thinks to himself. He and his red men are closing in on the brothel where the fiasco with that same old fart took place yesterday. The first of Van Cortlandt's men appears out of nowhere, scaring some of the horses. Morrison jumps infront of them as a lonely rider, crazy look in his eyes. The black man looks as if he is readying himself to say something of great importance but in the last moment his face expression changes totally and nonchalantly drops"Clyde is back" and rides away. Ruth is gathering his men.A hundred feet more and some of Lus's gang affiliates can be seen outside on foot, eyeing with displeasure his new recruits. Among them is Van Cortlandt, who greets Lucas with a big smile, satisfied of the added numbers. 'More meat for his meatgrinder...' Lucas thinks. Ruth starts jokingly"You are pulling your weight, echte Nederlander!""You have called Clyde's men back? So we get the 'go' tonight.""Follow me, I have to show you what I've been doing." Van Cortlandt says.>Lucas follows Ruth Van Cortlandt, who explains his strategy for the upcoming fight>What does Ruth actually want? Does he know why the Indians are here? Or the steamboat with that old-timer flag? What does it carry? Lucas pulls Ruth back into the brothel and demands answers.
>>6086323>Lucas follows Ruth Van Cortlandt, who explains his strategy for the upcoming fight
>>6086323>>What does Ruth actually want? Does he know why the Indians are here? Or the steamboat with that old-timer flag? What does it carry? Lucas pulls Ruth back into the brothel and demands answers.
>>6086323>>Lucas follows Ruth Van Cortlandt, who explains his strategy for the upcoming fightNo no this gotta be good, we better know what he is planning and ask questions there
>>6086448 | >>6086490 | >>6086642 | >>6086700Ruth jumps on the saddle, sitting sideways behind Lucas. The horse flinches forward, uncomfortable by the newly added weight. Even sitting, Ruth is almost two heads taller. A huge hand holds Lus's shoulder in order to keep balance and even though Van Cortlandt is a close friend, the confrontative spirit of the former jumps to conclusions of veiled assertions being made. Ruth slaps the horse, his arm a whip by itself, and both are now traversing across the southern side of town. "I'm all ears" Lucas is curious what the boss has been up to. The horse is keeping a steady pace, entering alleyways, exiting disheveled small dirt roads that swerve around abandoned buildings. "You see all of these? While you were away my men gathered all 'piss in bottle' spirits and whisky that they could find in this dump of a district, and have been shoving grandma's panties in bottle necks for half a day now as firestarter. ""Firebombs?""Think about it, everything north from the main street, all the way to the harbor, is sheriff territory. Follow the main road westward and after an hour you are at red nigger camp. Why walk into a shootout with a thousand civilians and you-tell-me how many reds, when we can just split the city in two and then block the western exit with a wall of fire that will do our fighting." Ruth says."Won't the indians circle from the south, where we are?""And tire their horses before battle in that fucking sand dune, I don't think so. If the savages want to have their fun, they'll be forced to make the detour leading north, where they and Katz will be free to kill each other."Riding away from the guarded perimeter, the two men are followed by McAlister, Three Eyes and Nixon as precautions for their safety.>Cont.
>>6087198"Where do you want me in all this?" Lucas asks."I knew your part the moment I saw the colleagues you brought" both dutchmen laugh, it's the same line of some joke told years ago "Picture it, Lus. You and your comanche ride like lightning across town, going north after the main road, creating ruckus on your way up. While Robert Katz diverts good guns on you, you just keep riding north, and in the meantime I take care of torching the bitch. Strong winds are consistently coming from the sea in direction of west north-west, putting smoke in the eyes of injuns and lawmen..."What about loot, the boys won't settle to be lords of ashes..."A scream from a rooftop watchman stops Ruth from answering: "Some ugly Mexican mutt is trying to leave the city, boss!"A subtle change in demeanor follows "Things that have true worth don't burn easy" Van Cortlandt answers Lus's question with the biggest smile, then jumps from his horse "Nixon, catch that mutt son of a bitch!"McAlister approaches Lucas, bringing back his scalp belt. Three Eyes is taking a good look in the far distance, observing the Mexican that is trying to escape, and says:"I have seen this man before...">"Christ's body will burn." Lus adopts Van Cortlandt's offensive plan and agrees to play the bait>Lus disapproves of his plan and wants to play it defensive>"There is change of plans, Mac. Go gather the boys..." Lucas decides to break apart from Van Cortlandt's gang. His thirty comanche and five whites should be sufficient to overthrow Ruth, or play independent in the upcoming fight, or wait for the metaphorical and literal storm to pass, picking up what's left >"Where have you seen the mutt before, Three Eyes"
Your writing is very good and it's hard to make plans like this, while also thinking as the oposition... plus these little distractions are great>Agree to play the bait>>"Where have you seen the mutt before, Three Eyes"
>>6087200>"There is change of plans, Mac. Go gather the boys...">"Where have you seen the mutt before, Three Eyes"We can win.
If we get a tiebraker with more than one post, we are pushing forward boyos>>6087234thanks m8
I am this anon >>6087778Come on anons, let's not be just a yesman to Ruth's plan to burn down every dollar bill in Corpus Christi, let Lus loose. With the loot from the city and our comanche and white warriors under our command, we'd be unstoppable.
>>6087778+1Why not. Let's see where this leads, for better of worse.
>>6087234 | >>6087778 | >>6088006>"There is change of plans, Mac. Go gather the boys...">"Where have you seen the mutt before, Three Eyes"___________________________________________________It's time for change in management. Nixon is galloping towards the Mexican attempting escape, Ruth is walking in their direction watching the chase with interest, his back is fully exposed to Lucas and his two men. The only issue is the sharpshooter watchman on the neighboring rooftop, there is no clear shot towards him.Lucas decides to...>attack Van Cortlandt right here, right now. His two guys against Ruth's. The boss has never been so exposed.The fleeing Mexican that Ruth has been waiting for all this time escapes, the conversation with Three Eyes is postponed, if everything goes to plan, that is.>"There is change of plans, Mac. Go gather the boys..."Three Eyes tells you what he knows. The fleeing Mexican is captured by Ruth. Depending on what Lucas hears, he either gathers all his men and flees the city, only coming back for the aftermath of the explosion of this gunpowder barrel of a city, or participates independently in the upcoming free-for-all.
>>6088192>>"There is change of plans, Mac. Go gather the boys..."This is gonna be great
>>6088192>"There is change of plans, Mac. Go gather the boys..."
>>6088401 | >>6088499The trickle of information is painfully slow, especially if all your teeth are broken and you can only whisper. Especially in the stale-aired brothel. One-eyed Hudson knows Spanish and now repeats to Ruth what he manages to pick up from the bound Mexican. Occasional finger breaks, a knee is drilled, nails are ripped off whenever the silence between the talking grows too long. Morrison does an excellent job, as always. "The steamboat is a transport ship.... Yet carried two hundred people on board... All armed... Castizo Spaniards from Yucatan... Their leader is the governor of the mexican state, a white guy... He doesn't know his name... A friend of Robert Katz, from long ago... the Mexican was smuggling something... Queer structure of metallic sort... It's height is four feet... Obsidian holders are all over the structure... Few remain... Still on the ship... A gap in the harbor's defenses... He was able to run away once he saw that there would be battle... " One-eyed Hudson stops talking as the man looses consciousness again. "This must be the man that Salt Upon Wounds met several months ago. A 'cousin from down south will carry the gift' he said to Playful Cloud when he dispatched him back to Mexico to get it..." Three Eyes says."What is this thing about?" Lus interjects, both of them speak hushed comanche to each other."Little Blood Trees. It's bad luck to talk about them..." Three Eyes grabs an amulet around his neck "You sacrifice on them and they give you power, the bigger the sacrifice the bigger the power. Your closest under the knife... Paháh doesn't like such things, yet my people don't have any other options now. Those things are the reason why my brethren came here.""What kind of power?" Lucas asks."No one from the comanche has performed the ritual. But Salt Upon Wounds knows, yes he knows, he receives visions and dances around fireplaces at night.."The evening approaches, the time for action is here...>"Ruth, I am taking my men north, as the plan goes. Get your people ready."Lucas will feint playing bait and will leave the city through the north, crossing sheriff' ground. He and his men won't participate in the major fighting. Billy Boy is looking around, sweating>Lucas decides to storm the harbor, hoping that the gap in its defenses is real. He needs to have that very same thing that made Salt Upon Wounds cross a thousand miles to getBilly Boy is looking around, sweating>Lucas decides to start a grandiose shootout with his former colleagues right here, in the brothel. He doesn't like One-eyed Hudson's burned face, Ruth's smugness and is especially not fond of Morrison's crazy psychopathic eyesLus knows that if he comes on top here, Ruth won't try to chase him down and no one will come to seek vengeance after>Lucas flees with his men through the southern side of town, passing the sand dune and waiting for the conflict to blow overBilly Boy is looking around, sweating
>>6088691>>Lucas decides to storm the harbor, hoping that the gap in its defenses is real. He needs to have that very same thing that made Salt Upon Wounds cross a thousand miles to getLet's choose the Mc GUFFIN
>>6088714>roll dice+1d2Billy Boy has been tortured by comanches in the past. After Lus brought the same tribe of Indians with him, a dose of post traumatic stress and the news from McAlister about the secession of the group, he now wonders if he should tell everything to Ruth. 1 for sucking it up and staying silent, 2 for snitching______________________________________________>roll dice+1d20+-6, only if Billy Boy snitchesIt will determine the exchange between Ruth and Lucas, their emotions, words or bulletsThreshold for success: 10Modifiers: -5, Ruth is a dear friend-3, Lucas nodded his head, promising to have Ruth's back+2, Ruth is acting strange
Rolled 1 (1d2)>>6088757Let's see... I won't roll the other die
Rolled 7 (1d20)>>6088757Let Fate speak
With the night came the winds and the flashing lights and the drums of heavens above. Hooves are disfiguring dirt roads. Men try to torch the city, want to make fire play on every ugly termite infested frame there is but it's too late now. Pouring rain and continuous fire from the sheriff's men ravages Van Cortlandt's gang, some are ended fast, others' horses are shot down with their leg stuck under the carcass, third have a lung or a liver or a stomach punctured and a profuse internal bleeding makes them immobile, their only option is to lay on their back and enjoy the beautiful theater in the sky, good show for their final hour. One-eyed Hudson doesn't have the part of the skull that previously accommodated his healthy eye, Nixon is laying somewhere, choking on his blood yet still clutching on an unlit fuse...Somewhere not far away, a wave of red engulfs life all around it, suffocating it with tomahawks, guns and spite. A fifteen century conquistador armor glistens with every lightning on the chest of the chief, his hand works for a long time. Many red hands work a long time tonight, many belts are now heavy. They are efficient. He is very efficient. Soon they reach their target, a white man boat. Every nook and cranny is searched within it, their price is not there. The hurricane becomes stronger, more vicious and unforgiving. In their fury all of them adopt the features of the thunder storm and go back to the melee. It's time for harder hand work, it's time for heavier belts...McAlister lays dead near the harbor, no wounds can be found on his body...The grave situation wakes an ancient trait in Van Cortlandt's psyche. A wild man now, he runs rampant from house to house setting it ablaze, removes limbs and skulls from anyone who seems cowardly or doing the wrong thing, bellows commands that no one can hear, it doesn't matter as he does everything himself. Many buildings burn on the main street now, yet not for long, he is on the wrong side, amidst the enemy men, he is looking for his nemesis, only Morrison left by his side. No more bullets left, wounds ooze blood profusely and he is in everyone's face up-close and personal, all the time, breaking heads and bones like twigs with strength of a giant. Morrison is put down, it doesn't matter, as Van Cortlandt relishes the moment of defeat, his enemy's blood and his own form an admixture on his face, arms and everywhere else."I am a red man now" he continues to scream, running towards the loudest noises, fighting...__________Sand all around. There is no storm, no city, no fire, only sand. Several erect and pierced white torsos slowly squirt blood on a metallic structure that contorts each stream of liquid in a unique little shape that resembles trees. In the middle of those trees, in the core of the structure, a man with grey eyes turned red, with skin freckled now albino white, sits and whispers to himself, "I will never die, I will never die, I will never die..."
___________THE END___________
Well that was interesting.Thank you for running this quest QM! Remember to archive it if you haven't already.
>>6090330I assume that was Lus in hell? or the Little Blood Trees?
>>6090386thanks for playing>>6090503It was Lus. What he is now is more of an Easter egg for the folks that read the novel
>>6090529Out of curiosity, what would have happened had we beaten the DC?
>>6090330Nicely done, good quest and good ending, if a bit abrupt. I also liked your other suicide witness quest, short and sweet. Big balls for running both at the same time.Also the hundred little blood trees is very cool imagery.>>6090529I think it's a bit too egregious that he outright became the judge, but I interpreted it as something very similar to him. Another personification of war, strife and evil.>>6090539We did beat the DC, technically, since the roll was only needed if Billy Boy snitched, and that first 1 ensured he didn't.
>>6090647thanks, the suicide witness quest was definitely fun. Regarding the judge, I tried to find a different interpretation for his existence, not just like a devil or demiurge figure, but something that an ordinary man too can become if he finds the means to do so. Which would explain how people are seeing him everywhere and he "never dies". The actual body dies but when someone else performs the ritual he inherits the same characteristics, so 'The Judge' lives on. The ending was a bit rushed, definitely, and the quality of the last posts dropped, as other quest ideas were floating in my brain but that's just my lack of proper commitment which is something that I have to work on. Either way I am glad you enjoyed
It is smart to end a quest if you get too distracted by something
