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Post by DocHolliday on Sept 17, 2015 20:26:05 GMT
After a few days of travelling, Doc Murray had found his spot. His dowsing pendulum indicated rich silver deposits in the soil beneath his feet, and something else. The ground here wasn't diseased, as it had been in the Yucatan. Rot wouldn't set on his fingernails. Whatever plant life there was, it wouldn't crumble wet in his hands. A small river flowed nearby his spot, perfect for carrying slag and waste away. He set a latrine downstream from his camp, and a little kitchen above it. And he dug.
Three days he spent chipping away at rock into a ledge facing the river. Another two days were spent panning through his spoils for nuggets. Nothing much, a little sliver of gold hardly worth mentioning, and a handful of iron pyrite. Though the land was clean and healthy, he still suffered tremendous headaches.
Soon, he wandered down to town. He'd heard news of a gang reigning supreme over Larkin. Truth was; Doc Murray had plans for the little town. Bandits and gangsters would only get in the way.
Reasoning that any man wanting to slake his thirst can do so if he has coin, Doc Murray meandered into the Watering Hole, eyes wide and staring. He walked to the bar, and said;
"A whiskey, barkeep."
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Post by Admin on Sept 17, 2015 20:50:09 GMT
The bartender, a burly man clad in a dusted old waistcoat, wielding scarred hands and boasting a wild and untamed mustache grunted as he received the Doc. Before pouring the liqour, he wrestled with the bottle, betraying his lack of experience at bartending. Indeed, the blood stuck underneath his fingernails was readily apparent from the corner of one's eye.
The noise in the saloon had decreased in volume, with several tables taking it in turn to glare evilly at the Doctor, a clear attempt at intimidation, and a message that he was not completely welcome in the town. Most of the men were armed, though their weapons were beat-up and incapable of packing a huge punch. Within the saloon there were six men, and an additional two armed men were posted outside.
One individual caught the eye, dressed in a red waistcoat and sporting a stetson rather than the more usual bob hat, he carried a chrome plated handgun - a Beaumont-Adams, it seemed. It would be safe to assume he was the leader of the gang.
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Post by DocHolliday on Sept 18, 2015 9:26:30 GMT
"Good man," Doc nodded. Sweat beaded his brow. Still, he had a plan. He was a man for the outrageous.
After paying, he knocked back the whiskey, grunted, sated. Damn, there was way too many of them.
He wiped his brow, and made to leave the saloon.
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Post by Admin on Sept 18, 2015 11:46:39 GMT
The men allowed Doc Murray to leave the saloon unhindered, suspicious but unconcerned about the lone gentleman.
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Post by DocHolliday on Sept 20, 2015 12:46:32 GMT
Doc Murray spent the rest of the night hunched over his desk, furiously scribbling missives filled with arcane symbols and sophisticated vocabulary. Eventually, he finished the letters, and rode to the nearest telegram office first thing in the morning. Then, he began to prepare. His hands shook far too much for the work ahead. He ground up a green herb that he'd come across during travel to Arabia, mixed it with tobacco, and smoked it in his pipe. There, now he could work.
He mixed three sizable bottles of nitroglycerin from his mining supplies, and tied them together with a bit of rope. Setting them carefully in a small crate of straw, he relaxed for the rest of the night.
A few days later, he rode to the telegram office. Sure enough, two positive replies had come. Doc Murray chuckled to himself. Damn those bandits, they'd soon get a taste of the good life.
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Post by DocHolliday on Sept 21, 2015 10:12:53 GMT
"Professor," Doc Murray greeted his first guest, an elderly scholar from Miskatonic University. Professor Sanderson Reed was a fellow of average height, with a slight pot under his waistcoat. That said, he was a fine marksman, a champion duck hunter. He carried a 1863 Model Springfield in a hessian bag. After pleasantries were exchanged, Doc Murray handed him a fancy new scope. They schemed over a freshly brewed batch of tea, until Doc Murray's second guest arrived.
Elijah Jones was a bounty hunter. A negro man that hefted a Smith & Wesson 2 with lightning speed and tremendous accuracy, there may have been a number of warrants for his arrest, here and there. Possibly something to do with Doc Murray's actions kept him out, or removed him from, jail. Murray and Reed bid him join them.
Come nightfall the next day, Elijah found himself a spot opposite the Watering Hole, behind a water barrel, and lit a cigar. Professor Reed clandestinely climbed the roof of a house offering prime oversight of the Watering Hole door. Soon, there'd be plenty of targets.
Doc Murray, on the other hand, walked through the door of the tavern. He walked slowly, gingerly, sweating a lovely stain through his jacket. He reached the bar, ordered a whiskey, and turned to face the room.
"Red Jack!" he called, "Come out! There's a reckoning a-coming!"
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Post by Admin on Sept 21, 2015 12:53:00 GMT
The six men within the saloon jumped to their feet, hands on their holsters, ready for a fight. One of them, presumably Red Jack, broke away from his group and advanced several feet. He stopped in front of Doc Murray, glaring into his opponent's eyes, daring him to say another word.
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Post by Red Rob on Sept 21, 2015 15:54:27 GMT
OOC: This has been talked about already.
IC:
As Jack and Doc Murray squared up a high pitched wailing was heard from the alley behind the saloon. The wailing was soon followed by the sound of shattering glass as the Little Man came crashing through a window wielding his bowie knife like a sword. The Little Man had enough momentum to collide with one of the men at the back of Jacks group. The Giant stepped through the smashed window and levelled her carbine at the group, firing at one man and then aiming for another as the Little Man started to slash away.
On the street Red Rob gently trotted along the road and then stopped and tied his horse outside the Saloon. He looked around, winked at the water tower and then walked through the doors, sword drawn.
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Post by Admin on Sept 21, 2015 15:57:42 GMT
OOC: I'll wait for the Doctor's orders before working out the result of the fight.
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Post by DocHolliday on Sept 21, 2015 17:15:45 GMT
OoC: Oh, goddamnit, you spoiled the effect.
IC: Before all that, Doc Murray returned Red Jack's glare.
"Let me tell you a story," he said, "Once upon a time, there was a bandit gang. They robbed from the rich, and gave to the poor. Sure, they made some big jobs, and sometimes, they messed up, and lost the loot, but on the whole, it went well. Then, along comes a new guy, slick and modern, thinks he knows a bunch. Let me tell you how to do things, he says, I'll show you the right way. And the gang made him chief. They made off with a huge heist, megabucks. But they didn't give any to the poor. And they made heist after heist after heist.
The new chief grew fat and complacent on his winnings. He talked himself into believing his own hyperbole, and so did his little cronies. And they went on at length, how great we are. How. Grand. We. Are.
But they didn't see the hate brewing. They didn't see the anger, the hunger in the eyes of a fresh new challenger. They didn't see..."
Doc Murray slid his jacket open.
"That the new guy had three bottles of nitroglycerine under his jacket."
Sure enough, there were three bottles, filled with a clear liquid. Doc Murray softly took Red Jack's hand.
"You aren't going anywhere, chief."
*********
There was certain to be ruckus. Doc Murray had presumed that the gang would take flight, and run straight into Elijah and Professor Reed. He would keep Red Jack in his grasp. With any luck, Elijah and Reed would have convinced his newfound allies to join in the ambush.
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Post by Admin on Sept 21, 2015 17:41:40 GMT
Things went as planned. Red Jack stood fixed to the spot, unable or unwilling to attempt an escape. The remainder of his men slowly edged out the saloon doors only to be shot down by some incredibly accurate shooting from the marksmen, who took three of the gang members down before a short gunfight took down another three, leaving one man hightailing it into the desert.
The surprise attack threw the bandits of guard, with them missing every attempt at a shot. Neither Doc Murray nor Red Rob took a single casualty.
Objectives complete:
Capture Red Jack: $1000
Kill 5 of more gang members: $1000
Remove the outlaws: $500
OOC: You can figure out how to split the money between you.
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Post by Red Rob on Sept 21, 2015 17:47:26 GMT
OOC: Could we get some information on whose posse killed how many men?
IC:
Rob raised an eyebrow and clapped his hands together when the smoke cleared and he saw a very white faced Jack staring at the bottles of nitro glycerine "Well I'll be damned! You sir must have the balls of a bullock! Now I don't want any bounty for Jack or the bounty for removing the outlaws, If you'll agree me and mine will simply collect the bounty for the men we killed ourselves."
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Post by Admin on Sept 21, 2015 17:51:19 GMT
OOC: Three each.
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Post by Red Rob on Sept 21, 2015 17:52:42 GMT
OOC: Fair enough, by my reckoning that is $500 to me and $2,000 to the Doc.
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Post by DocHolliday on Sept 21, 2015 21:34:17 GMT
OoC: By my reckoning, that's fine.
IC: "Bullock? What? Like a castrato?" Doc Murray replied, "Well, you'd be on the right line."
He shook violently.
"Nothing more than moonshine in the bottles."
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