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[AFMBE-IC] The Good, The Bad, and The Undead- Chapter 1- Two Zombies for Sister Sara
samurai6966
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Registered User regular
This is the In Character thread for the All Flesh Must Be Eaten game "The Good, The Bad, and The Undead"
OOC thread is here.
And here is our lunch menu... I mean... our heroes!
Snowdown: Ephraim Johann Fleicher
Farangu: Michael O'Halloran
ronrab: Ezekiel Riley, Undertaker
bratr: Jack "Mad-Eye" Jackson
OOC thread is here.
And here is our lunch menu... I mean... our heroes!
Snowdown: Ephraim Johann Fleicher
Ephraim Johann Fleicher grew up an American Born German Lutheran in the midwest. His family were butchers who immigrated here prior to his birth.
Ephraim was brought up as a strict Lutheran. At his family's request, he studied to become a Lutheran pastor. At the age of 16, his parents were murdered by a gang fleeing from a posse who robbed their store for food to continue their flight.
The event profoundly changed Ephraim. His faith, previously unwavering was lost and he rejected God and the Lutheran church, turning down the option to be ordained a true Lutheran pastor.
Ironically, after losing his faith Ephraim turned towards the very violence that cost him his family.
He joined a gang and participated in all of the sins that he grew up believing were wrong; rustling, robbing, whoring, and killing.
Ephraim rode with the Tilghman gang until they lost their charismatic leader William Tilghman a few years ago. He earned his nickname "Preacher" from the priest's garb he wore and his tendency to quote scripture. As a shoe in for his replacement Ephraim shocked the gang by abandoning them and fleeing west.
Ephraim has been giving in to wanderlust, never staying in one place for too long. He has abandoned the bloodthirsty ways that have been his entire life for the past 5 years but they're still very much a part of him, as are the ways instilled in him by his faith.
Age: 23
(23) Stats: Str: (4) Dex: (4)Con: (4)Int (4) Perception: (4) Willpower: (3)
Life Points: 54 (42+12) Endurance: 38 Essence: 23 Speed: 16
(16) Qualities: Balladeer (1), Bag of Tricks (3), Fast as Hell (1), Fast Reaction Time (2), #1 with a Bullet (1), Hard to Kill (4), Situational Awareness (2), Wonder Horse (3)
(-9) Drawbacks: Attractiveness (-3), Secret (-2 wanted man), Cruel (-1), Covetous (-2, Lustful), Honorable (-1)
Possessions: Sticks of Dynamite (x9), Preacher Garb, Black Duster, Black Hat, Brass Winchester .44 revolver(x2), Arkansas Toothpick, Horse, Bridle, saddle, saddle blanket,
(39) Skills: Craft (Demolitions) (3), Dodge(3), First Aid(2), Guns (Pistols)(5), Riding(4), Science (Chemistry)(3), Singing(2), Smooth Talking(2), Streetwise(2), Stealth(3), Survival(3). Throwing(4), Tracking(3)
Ephraim was brought up as a strict Lutheran. At his family's request, he studied to become a Lutheran pastor. At the age of 16, his parents were murdered by a gang fleeing from a posse who robbed their store for food to continue their flight.
The event profoundly changed Ephraim. His faith, previously unwavering was lost and he rejected God and the Lutheran church, turning down the option to be ordained a true Lutheran pastor.
Ironically, after losing his faith Ephraim turned towards the very violence that cost him his family.
He joined a gang and participated in all of the sins that he grew up believing were wrong; rustling, robbing, whoring, and killing.
Ephraim rode with the Tilghman gang until they lost their charismatic leader William Tilghman a few years ago. He earned his nickname "Preacher" from the priest's garb he wore and his tendency to quote scripture. As a shoe in for his replacement Ephraim shocked the gang by abandoning them and fleeing west.
Ephraim has been giving in to wanderlust, never staying in one place for too long. He has abandoned the bloodthirsty ways that have been his entire life for the past 5 years but they're still very much a part of him, as are the ways instilled in him by his faith.
Age: 23
(23) Stats: Str: (4) Dex: (4)Con: (4)Int (4) Perception: (4) Willpower: (3)
Life Points: 54 (42+12) Endurance: 38 Essence: 23 Speed: 16
(16) Qualities: Balladeer (1), Bag of Tricks (3), Fast as Hell (1), Fast Reaction Time (2), #1 with a Bullet (1), Hard to Kill (4), Situational Awareness (2), Wonder Horse (3)
(-9) Drawbacks: Attractiveness (-3), Secret (-2 wanted man), Cruel (-1), Covetous (-2, Lustful), Honorable (-1)
Possessions: Sticks of Dynamite (x9), Preacher Garb, Black Duster, Black Hat, Brass Winchester .44 revolver(x2), Arkansas Toothpick, Horse, Bridle, saddle, saddle blanket,
(39) Skills: Craft (Demolitions) (3), Dodge(3), First Aid(2), Guns (Pistols)(5), Riding(4), Science (Chemistry)(3), Singing(2), Smooth Talking(2), Streetwise(2), Stealth(3), Survival(3). Throwing(4), Tracking(3)
Farangu: Michael O'Halloran
Name: Michael O'Halloran, Man of Ill Repute
Age: 25
Stats: Strength: 3 Dexterity: 5 Constitution: 4 Intelligence: 2 Perception: 3 Willpower: 4
Life Points: 47 Endurance: 38 Essence: 21 Speed: 18
Qualities: Acute Sight, Hard to Kill(3), Charisma(2), Resources(1), Nerves of Steel, Photographic Memory, Resistance to Pain(1)
Drawbacks: Adversary(Gang of hoodlums - 2), Clown, Cruel(1), Honorable(1), Impaired Hearing
Possessions: Colt Walker pistol, Bowie knife, Sharps Carbine, rope
Skills: Brawling(2), Cheating(3), Demolitions(2), Dodge(3), Driving(2), First Aid(2), Gambling(3), Handguns(3), Carbines(2), Knives(2), Language-Chinese(2), Notice(3), Pick Pocket(2), Riding Horses(2), Stealth(2), Streetwise(3)
Not long after making his way West from the boat that carried him to this fabulous country, Michael O'Halloran soon earned a name for himself in the things that drove him out of his home country: poker playing, pick pocketing, gun fighting, and general skullduggery. If it involved the other side of the law, it was fair to say he had a hand in it. And yet, Michael was atypical for a rogue in the West in that he had his own code. Only fleece the suckers if they're not able to wise up to you. If a fellow shows you kindness, repay the favor. Only antagonize those who deserve it, but make sure that you crush your enemies.
Even with his reputation, and that recent incident in the Utah territories with a local hoodlum gang that wanted him dead, life was certainly starting to be something Michael was interested in again, compared to the tiny life he had in his tiny homeland.
Then zombies started showing up.
Age: 25
Stats: Strength: 3 Dexterity: 5 Constitution: 4 Intelligence: 2 Perception: 3 Willpower: 4
Life Points: 47 Endurance: 38 Essence: 21 Speed: 18
Qualities: Acute Sight, Hard to Kill(3), Charisma(2), Resources(1), Nerves of Steel, Photographic Memory, Resistance to Pain(1)
Drawbacks: Adversary(Gang of hoodlums - 2), Clown, Cruel(1), Honorable(1), Impaired Hearing
Possessions: Colt Walker pistol, Bowie knife, Sharps Carbine, rope
Skills: Brawling(2), Cheating(3), Demolitions(2), Dodge(3), Driving(2), First Aid(2), Gambling(3), Handguns(3), Carbines(2), Knives(2), Language-Chinese(2), Notice(3), Pick Pocket(2), Riding Horses(2), Stealth(2), Streetwise(3)
Not long after making his way West from the boat that carried him to this fabulous country, Michael O'Halloran soon earned a name for himself in the things that drove him out of his home country: poker playing, pick pocketing, gun fighting, and general skullduggery. If it involved the other side of the law, it was fair to say he had a hand in it. And yet, Michael was atypical for a rogue in the West in that he had his own code. Only fleece the suckers if they're not able to wise up to you. If a fellow shows you kindness, repay the favor. Only antagonize those who deserve it, but make sure that you crush your enemies.
Even with his reputation, and that recent incident in the Utah territories with a local hoodlum gang that wanted him dead, life was certainly starting to be something Michael was interested in again, compared to the tiny life he had in his tiny homeland.
Then zombies started showing up.
ronrab: Ezekiel Riley, Undertaker
Stats (24=20+4): Strength: 5 Dexterity: 2 Constitution: 5 Intelligence: 2 Perception: 2 Willpower: 4
Life Points: 50 Endurance: 47 Essence: 20 Speed: 14
Qualities (21=15+6): Hard to Kill (5), Nerves of Steel (3), Resistance (pain)(3), Resistance (disease)(3), Resistance (poison)(3), Situational Awareness(2), Strong Stomach (2)
Drawbacks: Ugly As Sin (Attractive -3, Charisma -3), Mean as Sin (Cruel -2), Now That Ain't Right (OCD -2)
Possessions: damn big shovel, wide-brimmed hat, real long black coat
Skills: Cheating 2, Climbing 1, Dodge 3, First Aid 4, Haggling 1, Hand Weapon (shovel) 4, Intimidation 4, Medicine (surgeon) 3, Notice 2, Questioning 3, Riding (horse) 1, Running 2, Scavenging 3, Weight Lifting 2
Most onery cuss in the West, even more onery than the dead folk, and that's some serious onery. Dead folks walkin' around after he buried 'em proper just ain't right, and Ezekiel, well, he don't like things bein' out of place. Makes him downright onery.
Ezekiel's real tall, too, an' real skinny, way too skinny than a man his size has any right to be, nearly seven foot with long, bony fingers, and long, stringy hair, grey and dirty comin' down to his neck. Shovel of his as big as him, too, he uses it mostly now for whackin' dead folk, too many of em to dig proper holes for.
Life Points: 50 Endurance: 47 Essence: 20 Speed: 14
Qualities (21=15+6): Hard to Kill (5), Nerves of Steel (3), Resistance (pain)(3), Resistance (disease)(3), Resistance (poison)(3), Situational Awareness(2), Strong Stomach (2)
Drawbacks: Ugly As Sin (Attractive -3, Charisma -3), Mean as Sin (Cruel -2), Now That Ain't Right (OCD -2)
Possessions: damn big shovel, wide-brimmed hat, real long black coat
Skills: Cheating 2, Climbing 1, Dodge 3, First Aid 4, Haggling 1, Hand Weapon (shovel) 4, Intimidation 4, Medicine (surgeon) 3, Notice 2, Questioning 3, Riding (horse) 1, Running 2, Scavenging 3, Weight Lifting 2
Most onery cuss in the West, even more onery than the dead folk, and that's some serious onery. Dead folks walkin' around after he buried 'em proper just ain't right, and Ezekiel, well, he don't like things bein' out of place. Makes him downright onery.
Ezekiel's real tall, too, an' real skinny, way too skinny than a man his size has any right to be, nearly seven foot with long, bony fingers, and long, stringy hair, grey and dirty comin' down to his neck. Shovel of his as big as him, too, he uses it mostly now for whackin' dead folk, too many of em to dig proper holes for.
bratr: Jack "Mad-Eye" Jackson
Jack "Mad-Eye" Jackson
Occupation: Cowboy
Age: 39
Strength: 3
Dexterity: 5
Constitution: 4
Intelligence: 3
Perception: 4
Willpower: 3
Life points: 49
Endurance Points: 32
Speed: 16 mph / 24 kmph
Essence: 20
Qualities: Charisma (+4), Fast Reaction Time (2), Hard to Kill (+5), Nerves of Steel (+3), Situational Awareness (+2), Well-Off (+2)
Drawbacks: Heavy Drinking and Heavy Smoking (-2/-4?), Unattractive: A long scar from a bar fight down his left cheek (-1), Cruel (-1), Reckless(-2), Humourless (-1), Lecherous (-2),
Possessions: 4 .36 Navy Colts, 2 boxes of shells, 2 Mustangs + saddle bags and saddles, a tent, covers, 2 Cowboy hats, 1 Pair of Boots, Over the shoulder holsters for 2 guns, Belt with holsters for 2 guns. 1 Winchester Rifle, a knife on his belt and one more in his saddle bags, Camping supplies, a small axe.
Skills: Brawling 3, Climbing 2, Dodge 3, First-Aid 1, Guns(Handgun) 5, Guns (Rifles) 3, Hand Weapon (Knife) 2, Intimidation 1, Myth and Legend (Cowboy and Outlaw) 1, Notice 1, Riding (Horse) 4, Running(Marathon) 1, Running (Sprint) 1, Seduction 2, Smooth Talking 1, Survival 2, Tracking 2
"I was born and I've been living. My parents died while I was still just a boy, this meant I had to become hard. Hard to Kill, hard to beat, hard to get to know, and hard in personality."
Early on Jack started riding with some cowboys, he chased cattle, herded cattle, and learned all about what it means to survive in the Wild West. He learned to rely on only himself. Very early he discovered his knack for gun play. He could shoot holes in silver dollars and outdraw most everyone he met. It made him reckless and cruel. The helplessness of being without parents, unable to fend for himself was replaced by power, power he could use to hurt and manipulate. As a young man he developed a taste for the ladies and developed a rugged charm that combined with his gun-play lead to him being the center of attention. His skill with the horse and gun made him a very good cattle driver and he soon became quite wealthy. Making money by buying and selling his own cattle as well as herding for others. Finally he became independent. Sometimes even herding alone, with danger at every turn, and a herd that could scatter at any moment, he earned a name for himself, Mad-eye.
In town he could be found in the bar, drinking and smoking. He was never one to crack a joke or laugh, but his natural charm combined with a knowledge of some fantastic stories from myth and legend made him an, if not welcome, at least bearable guest. The primary grievences with him was that he like to fight and sometimes had his way with women in ways that bordered on the illegal. Fortunatly for Jack, his generous contribtions to the town and particularly the church (Although he almost never attended) kept him out of jail and if the threat did loom, he had a knack for feeling those kinds of situations and even if he were in a drunken stupor, he always seemed to be ready to leap onto his two mustangs and flee into the wild. His two horses, Flame and Thunder, were his only two constant friends. Them, Jack would protect with his life if neccassary.
In his travels, Jack had caught sight of strange sights. Human shapes feeding on raw meat. He chalked it up to drunkedness and hallucinations. Still it had inspired some terrrifiying tales to tell the youngsters.
Jack is now in town, his current herd is inside a fence by his mostly unlived in home a few miles from the town.
Occupation: Cowboy
Age: 39
Strength: 3
Dexterity: 5
Constitution: 4
Intelligence: 3
Perception: 4
Willpower: 3
Life points: 49
Endurance Points: 32
Speed: 16 mph / 24 kmph
Essence: 20
Qualities: Charisma (+4), Fast Reaction Time (2), Hard to Kill (+5), Nerves of Steel (+3), Situational Awareness (+2), Well-Off (+2)
Drawbacks: Heavy Drinking and Heavy Smoking (-2/-4?), Unattractive: A long scar from a bar fight down his left cheek (-1), Cruel (-1), Reckless(-2), Humourless (-1), Lecherous (-2),
Possessions: 4 .36 Navy Colts, 2 boxes of shells, 2 Mustangs + saddle bags and saddles, a tent, covers, 2 Cowboy hats, 1 Pair of Boots, Over the shoulder holsters for 2 guns, Belt with holsters for 2 guns. 1 Winchester Rifle, a knife on his belt and one more in his saddle bags, Camping supplies, a small axe.
Skills: Brawling 3, Climbing 2, Dodge 3, First-Aid 1, Guns(Handgun) 5, Guns (Rifles) 3, Hand Weapon (Knife) 2, Intimidation 1, Myth and Legend (Cowboy and Outlaw) 1, Notice 1, Riding (Horse) 4, Running(Marathon) 1, Running (Sprint) 1, Seduction 2, Smooth Talking 1, Survival 2, Tracking 2
"I was born and I've been living. My parents died while I was still just a boy, this meant I had to become hard. Hard to Kill, hard to beat, hard to get to know, and hard in personality."
Early on Jack started riding with some cowboys, he chased cattle, herded cattle, and learned all about what it means to survive in the Wild West. He learned to rely on only himself. Very early he discovered his knack for gun play. He could shoot holes in silver dollars and outdraw most everyone he met. It made him reckless and cruel. The helplessness of being without parents, unable to fend for himself was replaced by power, power he could use to hurt and manipulate. As a young man he developed a taste for the ladies and developed a rugged charm that combined with his gun-play lead to him being the center of attention. His skill with the horse and gun made him a very good cattle driver and he soon became quite wealthy. Making money by buying and selling his own cattle as well as herding for others. Finally he became independent. Sometimes even herding alone, with danger at every turn, and a herd that could scatter at any moment, he earned a name for himself, Mad-eye.
In town he could be found in the bar, drinking and smoking. He was never one to crack a joke or laugh, but his natural charm combined with a knowledge of some fantastic stories from myth and legend made him an, if not welcome, at least bearable guest. The primary grievences with him was that he like to fight and sometimes had his way with women in ways that bordered on the illegal. Fortunatly for Jack, his generous contribtions to the town and particularly the church (Although he almost never attended) kept him out of jail and if the threat did loom, he had a knack for feeling those kinds of situations and even if he were in a drunken stupor, he always seemed to be ready to leap onto his two mustangs and flee into the wild. His two horses, Flame and Thunder, were his only two constant friends. Them, Jack would protect with his life if neccassary.
In his travels, Jack had caught sight of strange sights. Human shapes feeding on raw meat. He chalked it up to drunkedness and hallucinations. Still it had inspired some terrrifiying tales to tell the youngsters.
Jack is now in town, his current herd is inside a fence by his mostly unlived in home a few miles from the town.
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The last rays of the sun passed over the the gold town of Yellow Rock, California. It's golden rays flew over the Pacific Ocean and found themselves blocked by the hand of Sara Violet, a saloon girl at The Last Drink Saloon. "And now my day begins." she sighed. Sara smiled at Zek Cottonwell, one of her "regulars". He always comes by on Friday night. In the saloon, Matthew Lathim started playing the piano and Bart Templeton poured drinks at the bar for Ezekiel the Undertaker. Sara sighed again. "It's going to be another long night." Sara could hear the people inside talking about the gold that the Nelson gang had stolen last week. They had gotten 50 thousand dollars in gold bars from a shipment the Parker Bros. were going to send to the U.S. Rumor has it that the Southern States were planning on seceding from the union and there maybe a war. The gold was to pay for weapons and training for soldiers. "Of course it's all rumors" Michael O'Halloran snorted when "Mad-Eye" Jackson brought it up at the card table. "You'll see, no way anyone going to start a war."
As she started into the bar, Sara noticed a lone rider coming fast into town. He was slumped over his horse as if he was hurt. "Hey, someone get Doc! NOW!" Sara yelled! As the rider got to the saloon, he fell off and rolled to a stop. The horse kept going, fear outweighing the horse's loyalty to his owner.
Sara ran towards the fallen rider. He was covered in blood, some dried, most still very fresh. "Can you hear me? Come on, say something! WHERE IS THE DOC!?!" "You got to...help... stop... them..." the fallen rider whispered. Sheriff Roy Marshal ran to the man, a feat in itself as he was as wide as his horse. "What happen to you, young man?" "We took the gold... and hid it in a cave in the Black Bear Mountains. *cough* We were waiting for a wagon to take the gold south. But when the wagon came... these... monsters... came out and starting attacking... They looked... like normal people... but they were trying to eat us... I shot one in the chest and he kept coming. He and his friend, they bit me in the arm and leg... then I got away... but the others... I'm not sure what happen..." The rider's eyes started to be unfocused, his breath came at sharp but shallow burst. "Where is the cave?" Sheriff Marshal asked. "It's... on the... east..." the rider said with his last breath. The sheriff looked around. "Where is Doc?"
"Right here" Doctor Coon said. "Sorry but I was asleep. I had to get dress." Doc began to check the man. "He's dead. Sorry, Roy." Sheriff Marshal cursed. "Damnit. Someone get the body to Ezekiel's place. Bring everything he has to me, sir." Ezekiel snapped his fingers at two men near by. "Get 'em arms 'n legs 'n drug him to the table!" The man did as they were told.
Suddenly, the dead rider opened his eyes.
"He's alive!" Yelled the man at his hands. The dead rider turned his head and bit man. "The Hell?" the other man yelled. The dead man jumped up and bit the other man in the neck. He's screams snapped the small crowd around the scene to their senses. "Shot him!" someone yelled and every man with a gun started firing on the not-so-dead man. After a few shots in the chest, Bart ran out of the saloon with his shotgun. The dead man turned his head and ran towards Bart. BOOM! The close range blast to the head stopped the man cold. Everyone stood shocked. Sheriff Marshal was the first to talk. "Everyone! Go home. Bart, close the saloon. Doc, patch the two hurt fellas." The Marshal moved to the front porch of the saloon. "I'm going to the Black Bear Mountains in the morning. I'm going to need a few men who can shot to make up a posse and ride with me in the morning. Anyone coming?"
"My cattle are put away, and I know my way with a gun. I could use a little action."
Jack flourished his pistol, spinning it thrice before sliding it. He than reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a cigarette. Lighting it up he discarded the bud of the one he had been smoking, grinding it into the ground with his heel. He always kept a few rolled up on hand. No sense in being without tobacco during downtime, or ever really.
Too bad the bugger hadn't more fight in him. thought Jack. Haven't been in a good fight for too long.
"Mad-Eye" glanced at the others standing around. He felt pretty sure he could pick-out the most dangerous guys there. In the way they held their pistols, the way they stood, the way they were reacting to the situation. Jack took a long drag on his cigarette. There was less panicking going on then he might have expected from a bunch of town dwellers. Although maybe that gal Sara could use a little comforting. Casual approaching the girl he spoke comfortingly.
"Not too afraid, I hope Mam? Don't you worry, the Sheriff and I will handle the situation."
Michael eyed the whole scene with great interest. People were starting to wise up to his tricks at the poker table in this town lately; a change of pace might be favorable.
"Well, seems t'me that we have boyos wha can't stay dead, which are interestin in'an'of themselves. But then you go an' add that large sum o' dollars..."
He shifts his carbine from one soldier to the other.
"It's like God came and said, 'Michael, you go with these lads, wha?'"
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
"Would have thought he was touched, talkin' about being eaten by monsters," Ezekiel muttered. "Then he just had to get up after he was dead. That's just not right."
Ezekiel knelt by the re-dead man, although it was more like the towering figure folded up. His long finger traced over the many gunshot wounds. He scowled.
"I don't know much about firin' guns, but nobody here knows more about dead folks. I'm comin tomorrow," he said with finality. "Not gonna be able to sleep without knowing what gets a perfectly good corpse up and wandering around. Hell, gotta know if our cemetery's gonna be full of folks wantin' a meal soon." He spat viciously.
"I'll take a long look at this fella tonight, see if I can figure out what makes his ticker keep working when he's full of bullets. Then I'm burnin' him so he doesn't get back up no more."
(OOC: Gonna autopsy him tonight and see what I can learn.)
Ephraim had just moseyed into Yellow Rock this very evening.
Just a spell ago, to be exact.
His wanderlust had carried him all over the fine state of Cal-ie-for-ne-a recently, and he'd finally gotten it to settle down for a spell.
Matter of fact, he felt mighty fine for the first time in a while.
Fine as frog hair split three ways.
He was drawn to this particular hole in the wall by the rumor of a big heist, and empty pockets.
After all, he weren't stealin' from good folk no more.
But that don't say nothin' fer stealin' from the stealers, that ain't so bad, is it?
Ephraim had caught sight of the wild steed bringing the wounded man in at the edge of town, and followed him here.
So there he sat, tall a-saddle listenin to the wild story.
As if God had shown him a path to his salvation.
He thought about leaving right that instant. Beating the rest of them to the gold.
But then a scripture came to mind.
Give, and it shall be given to you. For whatever measure you deal out to others, it will be dealt to you in return.
That gold sure would start a mighty fine church.....mayhap.
It'd also buy a mighty fine whorehouse.
When those what were known had finished speaking up, he took his turn.
"Now, I know none y'all fine folk know me. But seems goin into a cave an all, y'all might need someone what knows his way around some dynamite. That'd be me."
Jack "Mad-Eye" Jackson:
After the Sheriff left, Jack when to find Sara. She was inside the saloon, looking at the bloodstains on her dress. "The least they could do is find his pocket book and have that loon buy me a new dress." she mumbled under her breath. Jack leaned against a post nearby her. "Not too afraid, I hope Ma'ma? Don't you worry, the Sheriff and I will handle the situation." "Oh, you are going out with the posse. If you are looking to get the gold, you'd have to kill the sheriff. He's been order by the Parker Bros. and supposedly the U.S. government to bring every piece of gold back to them. They are all marked. So if they find someone with a bar, the sheriff can shot whoever has it." Jack sat down next to Sara. "You thinking I'm in it for the gold? I'm hear for the fights. But the gold would be nice." Sara lean in close "I know some people who can melt it down so it's untraceable again. You interested?" Jack puffed on his cigarette. "I want half the gold and the night with you."
The next morning, the hotel manager found a messed up room and a broken bed.
Ezekiel the Undertaker:
Ezekiel had a long night ahead of him. Laying on the table was the now faceless rider who the Doc said was dead. "I'm going to have to talk to him in the morning. I ain't burying no live folks." Ezekiel took his knife and started to cut open the rider's chest. Blood poured from the cut, but what was odd was the small black liquid that floated in the blood but didn't mix. Ezekiel was able to separate a little of the liquid into a puddle. It wasn't oil, it didn't have a oil smell to it. It wasn't any pieces of the gunpowder or buckshot as it was a liquid. He couldn't explain it at all. When Ezekiel found the pieces of the heart, he could tell that no man could have lived that long with that many shots to it. He believed from the wounds out side that the heart was hit at least 8 to 12 times. The face and most of the brain was gone. The shotgun had ripped through the head, sending lead and bone into the brain.
Ezekiel looked at the other body in a fresh coffin. He had died that afternoon from a heat stroke. "He been there all day. He ain't getting up." Still, Ezekiel put a few nails in the coffin's lid. Better safe then sorry.
Ezekiel slept with his shovel near by. Never knew when some fool would come in and try to rob you or your customers. He didn't sleep well. The black liquid kept his mind spinning. What was it? What did it do to the rider? Sleep came at last and he was out snoring. Some people say that the dead are glad to be buried after being dead in his house for a night. He's snores have been said to wake the dead. Around sunrise, the dead woke up Ezekiel. He jumped from his bed and grabbed his shovel. He didn't know what woke him up. BANG BANG. It was coming from the morgue. Ezekiel worked his way slowly to there. BANG BANG. He could tell it was something pounding on wood. Pine from the sounds of it. BANG BANG. As Ezekiel stepped into the room he could tell that the noise was coming from the coffin that he had nailed shut. "That ain't right..." the Undertaker thought. He been in the business for years. Not one person ever woke up in his coffins trying to get out. He thought about opening the box. Maybe the man didn't die. He hadn't checked the body, just put him in the coffin. But the rider the night before had looked dead and he got up and attacked people. Then he hear gunshots from the jail.
Jack was feeling good this morning, although you couldn't tell from his face. It was its usually rugged, scarred and unsmiling self. He stepped boldly into the fog that surrounded his feet. The sheriff had said the jailhouse, no sense in hanging around staring at a bit of unnatural weather when they could be headed for treasure and excitement.
Then came the gunshots. Immediately Jack drew his gun, how dare action start without him. Without considering the danger he was rushing into, Jack ran towards the jail, ready to fire at anything worth a bullet. He hoped it was another of those buggers that didn't like to die. He wondered how "alive" it would be with a bullet between its eyes. He did remember to yell back some inspiring, charismatic words.
"Come on, you lousy gunslinger wannabees. Time to earn them spurs!"
No, that most certainly wasn't right. Ezekiel wasn't in any mood for it this morning, neither.
The undertaker jammed the edge of his shovel under the coffin lid, and PULLED, using it like a crowbar. Might be best just to burn the whole box... but then he'd always wonder, wouldn't he? It'd always be out of place in his head, and he couldn't abide that.
Time to see what was waitin'.
Ephraim sighed. He poured one more shot from the bottle of whiskey in his hand, tossed it back, and put the glass and bottle on the porch-rail of the Inn.
God damn, it's too early for this, he thought to himself.
He scratched his groin. Hope that whore last night didn't have no crabs.
Lifting a set of saddle bags off the porch rail beside him and placing it over his shoulder he looked to the two beside him.
"Well, I reckon we oughta go see what that ruckus was. Damned if this setback isn't gonna delay us gettin to that there gold."
As soon as the shots reached Michael's ears, his carbine was in his hand. He hadn't lived to the ripe old age of 25 by being the first to charge into every ruckus. Fortunately, it seemed that Jacky-boy was more than willing to volunteer for that role.
"You go on, Jack. I got your back."
Chicago Megagame group
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Michael, Jack, and Ephraim started to run towards the jailhouse, guns in hands. The fog was thick but they could see outlines of people but something seemed off. Michael's feet kicked something in the very thick fog at their feet. Picking it up, he found Bart Templeton's body half eaten. "Poor guy, I didn't like him but this isn't right." BANG BANG! The group looked towards the jailhouse. It looked like someone was shooting out the window at the people trying to get in. "We got to help them" Ephraim said. "We'll help them by killing every one of these man eating sonofabitches out here!"
(OOC: The upper fog is thick. You can see fine at 10 yards and shapes up until you get to 30 where it becomes a white wall. -1 to range attacks after 10 yards. -3 after 30 yards. The very thick fog at your feet (ground fog) is up to your knees and is impossible to see through. -2 to firing at something in the ground fog. The saloon edge is about 30 yards from the jailhouse. Ezekiel's place is 20 yards from the jailhouse. The black not filled in boxes on the map is for cover. You can jump over them except for the wagon, which you can crawl under. Roll for Initiative by rolling 1d10 then add your Dex.)
Chicago Megagame group
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Z2= 10
Z3= 10
Z4= 5
Z5= 3
Z6= 10
Z7= 5
Z8= 9
F1= 9
F2= 4
Sheriff Marshal= 10
Deputy Boom= 6
Jack
"Heads are gonna roll...."
But if he did, since he's fast as hell he'd have a 14 1d10+7 = 14
"God Almighty, what in the hell are these things, boys?"
Not being able to make out exactly what everything in the mass of bodies is, friend or foe, Ephraim draws but doesn't fire.
(Ephraim has a wonder horse...not sure how long it'll take for it to arrive)
(Going ahead and posting, as my combat snhouldn't affect anyone else)
Ezekiel ain't the fastest man, but zombies seem to be even slower on the draw. Zeke swings his huge shovel at the thing's head.
Ezekiel's Babe Ruth Impression: 36
That's one out of the ball park!
Ezekiel's shovel hits the man's head with deadly force. Black liquid sprays the walls and a nasty bone crushing sound mixed with the ringing of metal across a dead man's skull echos through the room. The man's eyes roll back as he falls to the ground. "I'll be damned if you wake up from that one, you fucking chaw spitter!"
(OOC: Jack is up next. Ezekiel from this point on is under the Initiative chart starting next round.)
Jack rushed forward, getting a running start in preperation to leap onto the crates barely visible through the dense fog.
"You picked the wrong time to mess with this town!"
Jack fired at the walking dead as they came into view. First he fired the Navy Colt in his left hand, aiming for the head of Zombie 7. His second shot came from the revolver in his right hand heading for the head of Zombie 8.
Standing atop the crates Jack prepared to take on any surviving zombies.
The fog was hiding quite a few of them Jack thought, his nerves however unshaken, he had faced worse odds and won, besides he had back-up.
The other figures in the fog turned their head towards Jack and his friends. Someone was in the street, no door to break down to get to these guys...
The two men closes to the jailhouse continued towards the Sheriff and Deputy. They rather stay on the task at hand, getting inside. The one man behind the wagon moved slowly towards it, the fog covering his actions.
The man's body fell to the ground, thanks to the new hole in the top of his head. The Deputy looked at the sheriff. "Hey, wasn't that Frank Mills? I thought he died last week."
The fresher looking man hear the noise in Ezekiel's house. If anyone could see him in the fog, they would have thought they saw a grin as he moved to the door.
Deputy Boom grabbed his pistol and shot at one of the men at the door. "Too bad them wild people bit my shooting hand." The shot hit the wood on the door.
"Damnit, Boom! If you can't shoot, then don't before you kill me!" Sheriff Marshal yelled as he tried to get a shot on another mad man. "It looks like we have help so just sit there."
Chicago Megagame group
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Jack needed some form of assistance up there, and Michael was in a helping mood. He advanced to the northern side of those crates, and took aim at Zombie 6.
Chicago Megagame group
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1d20+9-2 = 10
Jack stood on his precarious perch colts warm in his hands. Cocking both at once he glanced at the fallen zombie.
Looks like he's down
Not wasting a shot he fired at point blank into the face of the zombie who had tried to claw him.
Crazy bugger, has this coming to him
Pivoting quickly he fired at a second zombie, sure that his first bullet would put the zombie out of commission.
His hand slipped a little as he fired and Jack swore.
However, Jack didn't line his shot off right and fired too far to the left. The man didn't slow down.
Then again, he wasn't traveling that fast anyhow...
The one by Ezekiel's door laid down in the fog and disappeared.
After being shot at twice, the zombie to Jack's right tried to grab him. Jack jumped over his hand and looked at the man. "Your friend just tried that and I blasted his face off. Didn't you learn anything?"
Damn, that thing's still moving. Michael raised his carbine, and took aim at the same zombie. He wasn't in the habit of needing two bullets to solve a dispute with a particular character...but it looks like that'll be changing.
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
The Z1 headed towards the jail to help Z2 open the door.
Deputy Boom loads his pistol and sets his aim at the door. His vision began to blur. "Sonofabitch, my hand is bothering me. Feels like it's on fire."
Z4 saw Jack kill the other two zombies who had gone up against him. Now a normal man would have just walked away. Z4 wasn't a normal man. Then again, he wasn't a man anymore. His dead eyes fixed themselves on Jack and he continued towards the loud man on top of the crates...
F2 was all that stood between Ephraim and the jailhouse. But Church was too fast and F2 grabbed nothing but air...
"The LORD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my father's God, and I will exalt him."
Ephraim drew strength from the verse, and his shootin' hand steadied as he aimed a bullet at the head of the unholy thing standing before him. After the shot rung out, Church reared up struck out with a hoof.
Rolls:
1d20+9-2 = 15 for the gunshot
1d20+9 = 12 for the hoof