May 1st. 1879.
Denver-Pacific Line Terminal.
Denver.
Colorado, Disputed Territories.
The thick fog of exhaled steam swirls around the platform, veiling the iron horse, wooden carriages and passengers going 'to and fro', exiting from the stomach of the great beast into the arms of waiting loved ones. A beau meeting fiance, prospectors clutching paper claims and lurid stories, buffalo hunters wrapped in the cloaks of their success, a bedraggled cowboy handcuffed and hauled away under the watchful eyes and barrels or a couple of tin starred hawks. The steam vapour dissipates though the noise never abates as the next set of passengers begin to frantically board, elbowing baggage room and for the ride to Cheyenne at least, laying claim to a leather backed seat.
"All aboard. Last train to Cheyenne," DP conductors check tickets and assist with trunks and hands for the ladies climbing the metal steps, platform stevedores barrow cargo into the freight cart before climbing into the end caboose. The train driver pulls a cord to release pressure on the boiler and elicit a shrill final call. The engine and coal bunker at the front of the handful of carriages which get wreathed in another blanket of impatient mist.
Your characters board and find themselves seated in facing benches in the middle of the second carriage.
Post your character introduction and any actions, questions they may have.
It all begins ... on a train:
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Pastor Flannigan
The steel-eyed, spectacled, greybeard preacher, with his well-kept suit and ecclesiastic collar, doesn't have to elbow anybody in order to board and get one of the leatherback seats. He nods politely as a grizzled buffalo hunter moves aside and eases his tired bones into the forward-facing chair, setting his shotgun down leaning against the window. He smiles to those who take the adjacent seats, greeting them and striking up small talk about their reasons for going to Cheyanne. "Travelling my circuit," he replies himself, "got a congregation there, a few families seekin' earnestly for the Lord, and I check in on them twice or thrice a year. Like Paul, stoppin' at Ephesus rather than ending up in Rome," he chuckles at his own joke.
I asee both Wina and I thought we needed to invest in horses. I'm assuming they aren't coming on the train and we should turn that back into cash?
The steel-eyed, spectacled, greybeard preacher, with his well-kept suit and ecclesiastic collar, doesn't have to elbow anybody in order to board and get one of the leatherback seats. He nods politely as a grizzled buffalo hunter moves aside and eases his tired bones into the forward-facing chair, setting his shotgun down leaning against the window. He smiles to those who take the adjacent seats, greeting them and striking up small talk about their reasons for going to Cheyanne. "Travelling my circuit," he replies himself, "got a congregation there, a few families seekin' earnestly for the Lord, and I check in on them twice or thrice a year. Like Paul, stoppin' at Ephesus rather than ending up in Rome," he chuckles at his own joke.
I asee both Wina and I thought we needed to invest in horses. I'm assuming they aren't coming on the train and we should turn that back into cash?
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Bluetongue
- Ranger Lord
- Posts: 3012
- Joined: Sun Jan 22, 2017 11:30 am
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Rourke
Nervously steps aboard, sheltering his eyes away from any officialdom. He nods politely to travelling folk, the occasional "howdy" or "Ma'am" passing his lips. Preferring legroom to a window view he takes a bench seat finally opposite the suited gray beard. He carries a small duffel bag containing a sparse change of clothes and some equipment which he places in a luggage rack above his head. He takes a studied glance at the other travellers as he does so before being seated.
He notes the contrariness of the ministerial collar and the shotgun. "Expecting to preside over a shotgun wedding?" The cowpoke tries a jest and relaxes, wrapping his duster around him, more to conceal his holster ed pistol than for warmth and pulls down the brim of his hat to feign sleep.
Nervously steps aboard, sheltering his eyes away from any officialdom. He nods politely to travelling folk, the occasional "howdy" or "Ma'am" passing his lips. Preferring legroom to a window view he takes a bench seat finally opposite the suited gray beard. He carries a small duffel bag containing a sparse change of clothes and some equipment which he places in a luggage rack above his head. He takes a studied glance at the other travellers as he does so before being seated.
He notes the contrariness of the ministerial collar and the shotgun. "Expecting to preside over a shotgun wedding?" The cowpoke tries a jest and relaxes, wrapping his duster around him, more to conceal his holster ed pistol than for warmth and pulls down the brim of his hat to feign sleep.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Wina
Wina climbs aboard the train, it had been slow lately and she was hoping there would be more work to be found in Cheyanne. Of course she never seemed to stay long in one place, to much new to see somewhere else. She moved down the aisle, picking a spot next to a grey beard preacher. Sitting down, "Mind if I sit here?" She sits down, setting her pack basket between her legs, with her Winchester muzzle down tucked into the basket. She looked across the aisle at the cowpoke and nods a greeting and smiles.
The Winchester's tube is loaded but there is no round in the chamber. Her Colts hammer rests on an empty chamber, but the other 5 chambers are loaded.
Wina climbs aboard the train, it had been slow lately and she was hoping there would be more work to be found in Cheyanne. Of course she never seemed to stay long in one place, to much new to see somewhere else. She moved down the aisle, picking a spot next to a grey beard preacher. Sitting down, "Mind if I sit here?" She sits down, setting her pack basket between her legs, with her Winchester muzzle down tucked into the basket. She looked across the aisle at the cowpoke and nods a greeting and smiles.
The Winchester's tube is loaded but there is no round in the chamber. Her Colts hammer rests on an empty chamber, but the other 5 chambers are loaded.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Pastor Flannigan
The pastor nods politely to Wina and pats the seat next to him. "Always can find a friend in the Lord Jesus," he smiles, welcoming the attractive indian woman to their seating area. Still smiling kindly, he replies to the cowpoke as the man pulls his hat down to feign sleep. "Can't say I ever needed a shotgun for a wedding. Knowing the weight of eternal sin should one engage in carnal relations outside of the bonds of matrimony is usually all the convincing a man needs to be right with the Lord and womankind, where I'm concerned. The shotgun is for more mundane means of persuasion." He turns back to the woman. "I'm PAstor Flannigan, by the way. What brings you to the journey, Miss..." he trails off, prompting an introduction.
Horse returned, inventory updated.
The pastor nods politely to Wina and pats the seat next to him. "Always can find a friend in the Lord Jesus," he smiles, welcoming the attractive indian woman to their seating area. Still smiling kindly, he replies to the cowpoke as the man pulls his hat down to feign sleep. "Can't say I ever needed a shotgun for a wedding. Knowing the weight of eternal sin should one engage in carnal relations outside of the bonds of matrimony is usually all the convincing a man needs to be right with the Lord and womankind, where I'm concerned. The shotgun is for more mundane means of persuasion." He turns back to the woman. "I'm PAstor Flannigan, by the way. What brings you to the journey, Miss..." he trails off, prompting an introduction.
Horse returned, inventory updated.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Wina
Turning to Pastor Flannigan, "I am Wina, Pastor. I am looking for work at the moment. Usually as a scout, sometimes a trapper or hunter. Depends on whats in demand."
Turning to Pastor Flannigan, "I am Wina, Pastor. I am looking for work at the moment. Usually as a scout, sometimes a trapper or hunter. Depends on whats in demand."
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redwarrior
- Ranger Lord
- Posts: 2549
- Joined: Wed Mar 13, 2019 1:07 am
- Location: Sumner, WA
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Malcom steps up onto the train, with one hand holding a small valise, and the other near his colt, he surveys the car, smiling at Wina. He seems to visibly relax as his eyes travel the length of the car and back, as he slides into an open seat, with his valise in easy reach. He grins at his fellow travelers. Good day, Ma'am, Gentlemen, I'm Malcom Rap, and pleased to make your acquaintance. I trust we'll find ourselves in the best of company on this trip to Cheyenne. With that said, he pulls out flask, offering it first to Wina, and then to the others, before putting it away.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Wina
Taking the flask and a swig, she passes it back. "Why thank you Mr. Rap."
Taking the flask and a swig, she passes it back. "Why thank you Mr. Rap."
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Bluetongue
- Ranger Lord
- Posts: 3012
- Joined: Sun Jan 22, 2017 11:30 am
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Rourke
Lifts his brow under his dipped hat at the offer of the drink. He gives it a brief sniff.
"Hair of the dog." he declares and knocks back a swig. "Hundred miles or more to Cheyenne. Know how long this 'iron horse' takes?" he adds vaguely. He is not impatient to get going and has no particular reason to get there early or late. He passes the flask back and assumes his position once again, arms folded, slouched in the bench,.head cocked under his hat brim.
Lifts his brow under his dipped hat at the offer of the drink. He gives it a brief sniff.
"Hair of the dog." he declares and knocks back a swig. "Hundred miles or more to Cheyenne. Know how long this 'iron horse' takes?" he adds vaguely. He is not impatient to get going and has no particular reason to get there early or late. He passes the flask back and assumes his position once again, arms folded, slouched in the bench,.head cocked under his hat brim.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Pastor Flannigan holds up his hand and allows the flask to pass by. "Thank you kindly, but I try not to partake before noon," he smiles. He unfolds a rumpled train schedule from his hand and pulls a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat to consult it. "We may never know the hour or the day, but neither does the conductor, it seems." He shrugs, tucking them away.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Jack LaGrone
Making his way down the crowded aisle, a steely-eyed hombre in a wide-brimmed black hat stops by the facing benches. He has an Evans repeater in one hand and a carpetbag in his left, wearing two pistols, one in a crossdraw holster. Glancing over the four of you, he nods to the lady, and says in an easy Texas drawl, "Pardon me, ma'am, reverend, gentlemen, It's getting a might crowd in here. Do you have room for another? I'd be pleased to make your acquaintance."
Making his way down the crowded aisle, a steely-eyed hombre in a wide-brimmed black hat stops by the facing benches. He has an Evans repeater in one hand and a carpetbag in his left, wearing two pistols, one in a crossdraw holster. Glancing over the four of you, he nods to the lady, and says in an easy Texas drawl, "Pardon me, ma'am, reverend, gentlemen, It's getting a might crowd in here. Do you have room for another? I'd be pleased to make your acquaintance."
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Denver-Pacific terminal: Train to Cheyenne.
A little past midday, (go ahead Reverend and take a swig), the train carriages become a hive of motion as eager passengers board. The interior of the carriages lacquered wood panels are flecked with dust, the green leatherette benches of faded colours and peeling. Sash windows alternate along the benches to provide a viewing. Benched pairs of seats face each other, half a dozen along the right hand of the carriages leaving a walkway on the left. Luggage racks exist above your heads, rusty spitoons placed strategically for chewing cud and phlegm. Scattered copies of old newspapers rest on some shelves, notices of various types pinned to cork boards. At the rear of each carriage a WC cabin. Uniformed conductors welcome and assist where necessary before taking their place in the caboose.
The group sit together and 'meet and greet' as is their want.
ybn introduce your character when you can. Being armed is not an issue, totting guns around the city might be but leaving Denver means you can 'dress for action'.
Rourke as you posted, give me a Notice roll.
A banjo player, in white shirt and braces sits at the front, putting his banjo down with a thud. Next to him a couple of grizzled squinting prospectors natter together. "We'll strike it this time. Uh! Always a better day!" they talk loudly, more in hope than reality. They don't seem to have a lot going for them, tattered clothes, eyesight going, teeth are gone. Their unwashed smell means other passengers give them a wide berth.
Behind you other benches fill up. At the rear a noisy child fidgets, constantly scalded by presumably his mother. A quiet lady, looking like a school teacher sits, a tan briefcase between her heels, next to her a bespectacled man sits cross-legged, nose buried in yesterday's news. His case also tucked by his ankle tripping people who mill about. A crippled veteran of the wars hobbles by. He winces at Jack LeGronne, cussing into a spitoon. Old grievances still simmering beneath his dust blue duster. Perhaps two dozen folk take their place and this scene is similarly repeated in the other carriages.
Some people lean out of the station side windows, waving their goodbyes as the train chugs and jolts before smoothing out into a steady rythym which resonates underfoot. Looking at the floor you note some splintered repaired holes.
Pikes Peak, snow capped and shimmering blue reflecting the sky fills the horizon on your right. The Rocky Mountains, at least two days ride away, are set behind a skirt of undulating foothills covered in spruce and pine. To your left, the plains stretch in a wide arc of grasslands and valleys. The silhouettes of smaller suburbs and shanty townships are glimpsed in passing.
Ordinarily, the journey would take about six hours, a slower pace between the inclines over ridges and acceleration across declines and levels. The first couple of hours pass with small talk and without incident. The afternoon heat rises as the carriage swelters. The next hour takes you by the now deserted Fort Collins. Formerly a Union stronghold, the place abandoned under peace treaty terms, the state of Colorado still being part of the 'Disputed Territories , claimed by rebel and Yankee alike.
okay. Give me an action or more talk. If you want to use a skill or investigate or ask anything, go ahead.
A little past midday, (go ahead Reverend and take a swig), the train carriages become a hive of motion as eager passengers board. The interior of the carriages lacquered wood panels are flecked with dust, the green leatherette benches of faded colours and peeling. Sash windows alternate along the benches to provide a viewing. Benched pairs of seats face each other, half a dozen along the right hand of the carriages leaving a walkway on the left. Luggage racks exist above your heads, rusty spitoons placed strategically for chewing cud and phlegm. Scattered copies of old newspapers rest on some shelves, notices of various types pinned to cork boards. At the rear of each carriage a WC cabin. Uniformed conductors welcome and assist where necessary before taking their place in the caboose.
The group sit together and 'meet and greet' as is their want.
ybn introduce your character when you can. Being armed is not an issue, totting guns around the city might be but leaving Denver means you can 'dress for action'.
Rourke as you posted, give me a Notice roll.
A banjo player, in white shirt and braces sits at the front, putting his banjo down with a thud. Next to him a couple of grizzled squinting prospectors natter together. "We'll strike it this time. Uh! Always a better day!" they talk loudly, more in hope than reality. They don't seem to have a lot going for them, tattered clothes, eyesight going, teeth are gone. Their unwashed smell means other passengers give them a wide berth.
Behind you other benches fill up. At the rear a noisy child fidgets, constantly scalded by presumably his mother. A quiet lady, looking like a school teacher sits, a tan briefcase between her heels, next to her a bespectacled man sits cross-legged, nose buried in yesterday's news. His case also tucked by his ankle tripping people who mill about. A crippled veteran of the wars hobbles by. He winces at Jack LeGronne, cussing into a spitoon. Old grievances still simmering beneath his dust blue duster. Perhaps two dozen folk take their place and this scene is similarly repeated in the other carriages.
Some people lean out of the station side windows, waving their goodbyes as the train chugs and jolts before smoothing out into a steady rythym which resonates underfoot. Looking at the floor you note some splintered repaired holes.
Pikes Peak, snow capped and shimmering blue reflecting the sky fills the horizon on your right. The Rocky Mountains, at least two days ride away, are set behind a skirt of undulating foothills covered in spruce and pine. To your left, the plains stretch in a wide arc of grasslands and valleys. The silhouettes of smaller suburbs and shanty townships are glimpsed in passing.
Ordinarily, the journey would take about six hours, a slower pace between the inclines over ridges and acceleration across declines and levels. The first couple of hours pass with small talk and without incident. The afternoon heat rises as the carriage swelters. The next hour takes you by the now deserted Fort Collins. Formerly a Union stronghold, the place abandoned under peace treaty terms, the state of Colorado still being part of the 'Disputed Territories , claimed by rebel and Yankee alike.
okay. Give me an action or more talk. If you want to use a skill or investigate or ask anything, go ahead.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Pastor Flannigan
The preacher welcomes LaGrone and continues pleasantries while everyone settles. As the ride rattles on, his hard gaze lingers on each of those in the cabin around them, the headlines on the fliers and papers, the prospectors, the others too neat for the destination. He paces down the car to the water closet and peers into the adjoining cars as well. The Devil works in mysterious ways, and there's too many practitioners of the infernal and those infected by the undead these days... they stink like the cancer. A God Dog can't afford to miss it.
Knowledge (Occult) check, d8. Observing any clues.
Notice [1d6] = 4[1d6] = 3 Investigation [1d4] = 3[1d6] = 6
Investigation: Explode [1d6] = 4
Knowledge (Occult) [1d8] = 5[1d6] = 6
Occult: Explode [1d6] = 5
Notice: 4
Investigation: 10
Knowledge (Occult): 11
The preacher welcomes LaGrone and continues pleasantries while everyone settles. As the ride rattles on, his hard gaze lingers on each of those in the cabin around them, the headlines on the fliers and papers, the prospectors, the others too neat for the destination. He paces down the car to the water closet and peers into the adjoining cars as well. The Devil works in mysterious ways, and there's too many practitioners of the infernal and those infected by the undead these days... they stink like the cancer. A God Dog can't afford to miss it.
Knowledge (Occult) check, d8. Observing any clues.
Notice [1d6] = 4[1d6] = 3 Investigation [1d4] = 3[1d6] = 6
Investigation: Explode [1d6] = 4
Knowledge (Occult) [1d8] = 5[1d6] = 6
Occult: Explode [1d6] = 5
Notice: 4
Investigation: 10
Knowledge (Occult): 11
Last edited by Marullus on Wed Apr 01, 2020 5:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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redwarrior
- Ranger Lord
- Posts: 2549
- Joined: Wed Mar 13, 2019 1:07 am
- Location: Sumner, WA
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Malcom whiles away the hours in small talk. Eventually taking a deck of cards out of his jacket pocket, and absentmindedly shuffling and doing card tricks.
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Bluetongue
- Ranger Lord
- Posts: 3012
- Joined: Sun Jan 22, 2017 11:30 am
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Rourke
Eventually the heat and sweat get to him. After a couple of hours he rises and goes to open a window and check the train and look at the track ahead. He eyes up the prettiest of the ladies in the carriage and tries to observe the other patrons whilst giving a casual perusal of the notice board flyers, headlines on the paper the man reads.
Rourke: Notice skill [1d6] = 6 Wild Card [1d6] = 1
Rourke Notice skill Ace [1d6] = 2
I think you roll a seperate d6 as a wild card character with skills and traits. I 'aced' the notice roll so I rolled the bonus die again. Notice = 8
Eventually the heat and sweat get to him. After a couple of hours he rises and goes to open a window and check the train and look at the track ahead. He eyes up the prettiest of the ladies in the carriage and tries to observe the other patrons whilst giving a casual perusal of the notice board flyers, headlines on the paper the man reads.
Rourke: Notice skill [1d6] = 6 Wild Card [1d6] = 1
Rourke Notice skill Ace [1d6] = 2
I think you roll a seperate d6 as a wild card character with skills and traits. I 'aced' the notice roll so I rolled the bonus die again. Notice = 8
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Wina
Wina tries her best to rest and be polite on the train but she is edgy and a bit nervous on the crowded train, doing her best to keep track of what is going on around her and looking for anything unusual.
Notice [1d6] = 2 Wild Card [1d6] = 3
Wina tries her best to rest and be polite on the train but she is edgy and a bit nervous on the crowded train, doing her best to keep track of what is going on around her and looking for anything unusual.
Notice [1d6] = 2 Wild Card [1d6] = 3
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Jack notices the Union veteran giving him the stink-eye and quickly speaks up. "Easy there, friend; I may be from Texas but I fought for the Union and the Stars and Stripes. 1st Texas Cavalry (US)."
((You can actually hear the parentheses around US when he says it!))
"Can I give you a hand with anything? I also have these wonderful if you'd care to partake?" And with that he proffers the open tin to the man while trying to give him a hand.
+++++++
After that encounter and hopefully before the minister goes gallivanting around the car, Jack offers the tin to everyone else and settles in with his own smoke to ask the preacher, "So, reverend, my people are Methodists for the most part. What's your particular confession, sir?"
((You can actually hear the parentheses around US when he says it!))
"Can I give you a hand with anything? I also have these wonderful if you'd care to partake?" And with that he proffers the open tin to the man while trying to give him a hand.
+++++++
After that encounter and hopefully before the minister goes gallivanting around the car, Jack offers the tin to everyone else and settles in with his own smoke to ask the preacher, "So, reverend, my people are Methodists for the most part. What's your particular confession, sir?"
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Pastor Flannigan
The greybearded reverend makes eye contact and greets Jack warmly, undetered by the bristling amount of weaponry the former Texan carries openly. "A Methodist myself, he nods with a smile, his Irish accent coming through, "Had a rough and misspent youth until I was taken under wing; the Grace of Jesus is available to us all. Been walking in faith ever since. How long since your last Meeting? You still reading the Good Book? I'd be glad to have you come along for fellowship and communion when we get to our little congregation in Cheyenne." He looks curiously in the tin to see what it holds, grateful for the offer, before stretching his legs in the train car walkways.
The greybearded reverend makes eye contact and greets Jack warmly, undetered by the bristling amount of weaponry the former Texan carries openly. "A Methodist myself, he nods with a smile, his Irish accent coming through, "Had a rough and misspent youth until I was taken under wing; the Grace of Jesus is available to us all. Been walking in faith ever since. How long since your last Meeting? You still reading the Good Book? I'd be glad to have you come along for fellowship and communion when we get to our little congregation in Cheyenne." He looks curiously in the tin to see what it holds, grateful for the offer, before stretching his legs in the train car walkways.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Denver-Pacific train to Cheyenne.
10 miles north of Fort Collins.
3.20pm.
The group converse, swapping stories, drink and cigars. Malcolm fidgets shuffling a deck absent mindedly. No one engages him on a game though. He catches the attention of a couple of children who sit entranced by his minor prestidigitation. Wina finds little of interest in a crowded cabin, the far horizons of the vista much more appealing to her nature.
Jack LeGrenne tries to charm the passengers with a share of his smokes. The crippled vet raises an eyebrow but still remains ignorant, perhaps shamed by his assumptions or angry he sustained injury while another walks scar free. A lady, tall, dressed in a fine tweed outfit and holding a sun brolly under her arm takes one, sniffing it and crumbles some leaf in her finger. "Cuban? Perhaps so, certainly a 'Southern' brand. Coarse leaf with a mild sedative effect," she pauses and explains, " not so lady like to smoke but my father brokers such 'gentleman's dandys, liquor, spirits and such like."
Pastor Flanagan meets a lost sheep in LeGrenne. After a talk he investigates the various flyers and notices pinned up. Through the door into the next carriage, the scene us quiet, people lounge on benches, minding their own business. I will use the investigation roll. One of the old newspaper cuttings certainly catch your attention. It concerns some rail digging through a hillside exposing a large skeleton. A picture of two miners stand next to the bones. The skeleton towers above them by several feet with enlarged bones and skull. At least twice a man's height. Another picture shows some dug up relics, trinkets and pottery. The buckle displays a symbol you think was used in a mysterious cult known as the 'Sons of Nimrod' and are reminded on biblical texts in Genesis regarding the Nephilim.
Rourke notices things too. All too well. The subtle footwork of the prim lady and newspaper man to nudge cases closer together the lady bend down and take the man's case. She stands to leave and walk out, passing you as if unnoticed and into the next carriage. The man continues to complete the broadsheet crossword.
Looking out the window ahead the train ploughs through some narrow valleys, steep woods either side. However in the distance a large group of riders have placed a small tree across the track and wave a large white sheet to halt the train. By their uniform you can tell it is a squad of Union cavalry. The train driver must have seen them for the train begins to slowly grind to a halt. A commotion begins as to why the train slows, people lean out of windows to gauge the scene. Thankfully it doesn't seem to be banditry. A mounted officer speaks to the driver before half a dozen men dismount and begin to walk down the track to the first of the carriages.
give me any specific actions or verbals please.
10 miles north of Fort Collins.
3.20pm.
The group converse, swapping stories, drink and cigars. Malcolm fidgets shuffling a deck absent mindedly. No one engages him on a game though. He catches the attention of a couple of children who sit entranced by his minor prestidigitation. Wina finds little of interest in a crowded cabin, the far horizons of the vista much more appealing to her nature.
Jack LeGrenne tries to charm the passengers with a share of his smokes. The crippled vet raises an eyebrow but still remains ignorant, perhaps shamed by his assumptions or angry he sustained injury while another walks scar free. A lady, tall, dressed in a fine tweed outfit and holding a sun brolly under her arm takes one, sniffing it and crumbles some leaf in her finger. "Cuban? Perhaps so, certainly a 'Southern' brand. Coarse leaf with a mild sedative effect," she pauses and explains, " not so lady like to smoke but my father brokers such 'gentleman's dandys, liquor, spirits and such like."
Pastor Flanagan meets a lost sheep in LeGrenne. After a talk he investigates the various flyers and notices pinned up. Through the door into the next carriage, the scene us quiet, people lounge on benches, minding their own business. I will use the investigation roll. One of the old newspaper cuttings certainly catch your attention. It concerns some rail digging through a hillside exposing a large skeleton. A picture of two miners stand next to the bones. The skeleton towers above them by several feet with enlarged bones and skull. At least twice a man's height. Another picture shows some dug up relics, trinkets and pottery. The buckle displays a symbol you think was used in a mysterious cult known as the 'Sons of Nimrod' and are reminded on biblical texts in Genesis regarding the Nephilim.
Rourke notices things too. All too well. The subtle footwork of the prim lady and newspaper man to nudge cases closer together the lady bend down and take the man's case. She stands to leave and walk out, passing you as if unnoticed and into the next carriage. The man continues to complete the broadsheet crossword.
Looking out the window ahead the train ploughs through some narrow valleys, steep woods either side. However in the distance a large group of riders have placed a small tree across the track and wave a large white sheet to halt the train. By their uniform you can tell it is a squad of Union cavalry. The train driver must have seen them for the train begins to slowly grind to a halt. A commotion begins as to why the train slows, people lean out of windows to gauge the scene. Thankfully it doesn't seem to be banditry. A mounted officer speaks to the driver before half a dozen men dismount and begin to walk down the track to the first of the carriages.
give me any specific actions or verbals please.
Re: It all begins ... on a train:
Pastor Flannigan
Furrowing his brow at the old newspaper, he takes the page with the article on it, folding it carefully and tucking it in his vest pocket for later.
The pastor gratefully accepts the cigar from the tin, cutting the tip and lighting it after lowering the window beside his head to create a draft.
As the train slows, he leans out to observe the events as well. When he sees the cavalry men approaching to check the passenger cars he waits and watches, hoping to discern their objective as the approach, puffing placidly on the cigar.
Notice [1d8] = 2[[1d6] = 3
Furrowing his brow at the old newspaper, he takes the page with the article on it, folding it carefully and tucking it in his vest pocket for later.
The pastor gratefully accepts the cigar from the tin, cutting the tip and lighting it after lowering the window beside his head to create a draft.
As the train slows, he leans out to observe the events as well. When he sees the cavalry men approaching to check the passenger cars he waits and watches, hoping to discern their objective as the approach, puffing placidly on the cigar.
Notice [1d8] = 2[[1d6] = 3
Last edited by Marullus on Wed Apr 01, 2020 11:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.