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TOPIC: [R2 - 2015] Antidog's Deadlands Reloaded

[R2 - 2015] Antidog's Deadlands Reloaded 9 years 2 weeks ago #237

  • mikeawmids
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Fun session and an entertaining write-up! :D

Those good-for-nothing coffee bandits will think twice before messing with us again.
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[R2 - 2015] Antidog's Deadlands Reloaded 9 years 2 weeks ago #238

  • antidog
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Thanks! Shame I can't award myself an extra bennie for it though!
Why does my D20 only go up to 4?
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[R2 - 2015] Antidog's Deadlands Reloaded 9 years 1 week ago #239

  • Eomak
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Shalom Rebecca, Ive got no one else I can talk to about this so Im doing what ive always done & turning to my big sister. Ive done something terrible. Me & a couple of guys ive met have been hired by a Mr Grainger to deliver a large crate to the town of Odessa. Well we boarded the local train & took up positions throughout to make sure that the crate would be safe from anyone on board & to keep a lookout. The journey was fairly uneventful as we wended our way through the foothills of the Rockies (they truely are awe inspiring) until I spied a group of horsemen shadowing us. Well theyd done this for a 5 minutes or so when they broke out of the cover of the Pine forest they were hiding in & started charging towards the train, hollering & shooting their guns into the air. On the journey west ive become a fair shot with my shotgun so I took aim. Im not sure what happened next, whether the train hit a bump, whether the trigger got knocked or more likely I panicked, God forgive me but I let loose the first bullet & as the shock of the noise died it gave way to the shock of seeing a man fall from his saddle, blood fountainng everywhere. The rail guard with me opened fire & I saw why "eagel eye" Henderson was named such. All along the train, shots started ringing out & more of the riders fell from their mounts. I was told later that the leader of this band was a local bandit called "one eyed" Bobby, I was even given some reward money. My companions tell me this bandit meant to make off with the crate & that we also protected the civilans on board.
I cant stop replaying the scene in my head though Becca, the shot ringing out, the rider falling & then another & another. My usual bad dreams have been replaced with this scene & they torment me every night. Can God ever forgive such a sin; maybe He can in His grace & kindness but Im not sure I can forgive myself.
Your loving brother Abe.
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[R2 - 2015] Antidog's Deadlands Reloaded 9 years 1 week ago #240

  • antidog
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Good piece of flavour text. Adds a nice bit of depth to your character! Another fate chip is yours sir!
Why does my D20 only go up to 4?
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[R2 - 2015] Antidog's Deadlands Reloaded 9 years 1 week ago #248

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Hi guys

Here's my write up of last week's session. Feel free to add your own again from your character's point of view. There'll be an extra bennie in it for you!

Part 3 – Malificient Evan

Having squared everything with the local sheriff in Odessa, Antonio, Rabbi Wolowitz, Bob and Cobb stood on the station platform, surveying the small town laid out in front of them and squinting in the bright noon sunshine.

A dull thud resonated the planks of the station’s floor as a couple of railmen dumped a large wooden packing crate next to the posse.

‘Your problem now, fellas.’ One of the men gruffly muttered, before walking off with his colleague back onto the train.

Suddenly a hot breath suddenly puffed out across the side of Antonio’s stubbled face, startling him, followed by a quiet whickering sound. The Mexican, visibly relaxed, reached up and patted the side of his horse’s face, affectionately.

‘Si, Caballo, we have arrived, mi amiga.’

The posse headed down onto the main street of Odessa, hefting the large crate between them, and headed for the livery stable, hoping that Grainger had indeed arranged the necessary transport to take them to Red Hill. They sure didn’t want to have to carry this thing themselves.

Unable to resist the lure of cheap alcohol and cheaper women, Antonio found himself heading for the saloon as if his feet had made the decision without consulting his brain. Antonio shrugged, after all, who was he to refuse such a compelling order? Even if it did come from 6ft lower than the normal place decisions were made.

The others arrived at the livery to find that a wagon and several horses were waiting for them, already saddled and readied. They heaved the crate onto the bed of the small cart, retrieved their Mexican companion from the saloon and were on the trail to Red Hill within the hour.

The locals in Odessa weren’t able to provide much in the way of information about the village they were heading for, save that something bad was going on down there but they’ve pretty much kept out of it.

The trail was nothing more than a dirt path through the dry scrubland but easy enough to follow. After a few hours of uneventful riding, the village of Red Hill came into view. Just beyond the village, and several miles further south, the hill that gave the village its name jutted up from the horizon, the colour of the sandstone looking like dried blood in the fading afternoon light.

As they approached, the bell of the village chapel began to ring, whether it was a call to prayer or a warning, the posse couldn’t tell. One thing they could tell, however, was that the village had seen better days.

A few sad-looking, emaciated cattle wandered about aimlessly, trying to get sustenance from the dry brittle grasses that grew in clumps around the scrub.

Ahead, two small children were quickly ushered indoors by a fearful mother who had spotted the riders approaching.
The peeling sign denoting the place as Red Hill, creaked as it swung in the gentle breeze, a sorry welcome for a weary traveller.

The posse passed through the gate and were greeted by a village fallen on hard times. Several empty buildings straddled the wide street. A small church, its bell now silent, lay at the far end; it’s once bright, whitewashed walls now dirty and neglected.

A stone pen, filled with pigs, grunting and rooting about in their own filth, lay to the posse’s left as they took in this pitiful sight.

The team headed straight for the hotel to get some rooms for the night while Antonio, ever hopeful, wandered off to the saloon in search of whatever entertainment this dunghole offered.

Stashing the crate in one of their rooms, the posse joined Antonio in the saloon, if you could call a couple of stools, a table and a sullen man behind a bar with only moonshine to offer, a saloon that is.

Suddenly, the doors flew open and a boy of about twelve stood there, brandishing a rusty shotgun at the posse.

‘Everyone may be afraid of you but I’m not!’ He shouted. ‘I’m not going to let you take any more from us or hurt anyone else. I’m here to settle the score!’

The shotgun descended, its barrels pointing directly at the surprised posse. Just then, a man appeared and ripped the weapon out of the boy’s hands and gave him a solid smack round the head. The boy ran off, crying and holding his ear.

The man approached the posse and pleaded with them.

‘Please don’t hurt the boy, he is young and doesn’t know any better. You know we would never give you or your boss any trouble.’

Perplexed, Cobb Whateley calmed the man down and tried to get to the bottom of this disturbance. Once the man realised that these strangers weren’t involved in whatever was behind the village’s difficulties, he opened up and explained everything.

The village used to be fairly prosperous before Evan Henshaw, the man the posse were supposed to deliver the crate to, turned up with his band of rowdies a few months ago. He took over, claiming all the grazing land, the watering hole and taking whatever he wanted, including the women. If anyone stood up to him, they were shot in cold blood. Most of the villagers left and the few still here had nowhere else to go.

The man, Eddie, confirmed that there had been a large number of deliveries over the last few months and Henshaw always meets them at the well in the centre of the village.

Concerned by these revelations, the posse deliberated long and hard about what to do. Some felt that they should make the delivery in good faith and leave the villagers to their own fate. Others felt that, given Henshaw’s apparent attitude towards taking things for himself, they were sure to be double-crossed and that they should perhaps help the village rid itself of this scumbag.

One thing the posse agreed on, was that they needed to find out what was in the crate they were to deliver. Sourcing a few tools from the store, they headed back to the hotel and prised the crate open. Lying amongst the packing straw was a top of the range, brand new, ten-barrelled Gatling Gun with a large amount of ammunition. As well as a standard floor mount, there were several other metal spare parts that didn’t appear to have an obvious function.

After speaking with the Hotel owner, the posse began to formulate a plan. The Hotel owner ran off and brought back the rest of the men from the village, including the local priest, Father Montgomery. The Father managed to persuade the posse to help defend the village and drive Henshaw and his cronies off.

The following day, the posse planned a surprise welcome for their delivery contact. Backed up by twelve men from the village armed with rifles, the posse set up an ambush. The women and children were safely holed up in the back of the church, with Antonio and the Gatling Gun set up in the porch to protect them.

With everyone in place, all they could do was sit and wait.

As the Sun reached its apex, the thunder of hooves could be heard as Evan Henshaw and twenty outlaws rode into town and formed up round the well in the centre of the village. When no one appeared with his crate, Henshaw demanded someone bring out his delivery or there would be trouble, then spat a wad of chewing tobacco onto the ground to emphasise his point.
Rabbi Wolowitz, concealed in the livery stable noticed a curious thing, Henshaw was wearing a Confederate soldier’s grey cap, with the crossed rifles brass insignia of the infantry pinned to the front. He was also whistling that famous army anthem, Dixie.

Unfortunately, the rabbi did not have the leisure to consider this revelation further or what, if anything, it meant, because just then, the prearranged signal sounded.

As the church bell’s ring faded, the church doors flew open to reveal Antonio, cheroot hanging out of the side of his mouth and grinning wildly, lounging nonchalantly behind the huge Gatling Gun. With a slightly insane giggle, he let rip with the mighty weapon.

Several outlaws literally tore apart in a bright red haze, the drops of blood glinting like liquid rubies in the sunshine. Before the echoes of the Gatling Gun’s first salvo died away, the crackle of gunfire opened up from every building, roof and doorway as the villagers and posse opened fire.

Taken completely unawares, the flying lead scythed through the men gathered around the well. The carnage was terrible to witness. Bob Two-Feathers, his aim never more true, singled out Evan Henshaw and launched a couple of well-aimed shots at the bandit leader. Henshaw crumpled with the impact but managed to keep his feet, blood pouring from a number of wounds.

One of the villagers, fired at Henshaw as well hoping for a lucky shot. Lady Fortune was with him as Henshaw fell, bleeding out into the dusty ground.

Wolowitz and Whateley, took out a number of outlaws on their side fairly handily too. Afterwards, some of the villagers would whisper fearfully that they had seen them both produce some very strange phenomena that they couldn’t quite explain.

The ambush had been devastatingly effective leaving all but four of the outlaws dead or bleeding out within seconds of the church bell ringing. The remaining heavies, seeing their leader and most of their comrades fall, decided that discretion was the better part of valour and rode like the wind to escape the bloodbath, firing wildly to mask their escape.

Their shots were lucky as Bob Two-Feathers found out to his dismay, several bullets finding a home in his flesh and leaving him inches from death.

Two villagers also fell to the desperadoes’ hail of gunfire but retribution was swift. The rest of the riders were taken out before they could escape, with one being taken alive for questioning.

A bleeding Bob Two-Feathers staggered over to the well, where he noticed that Henshaw hadn’t yet passed over to whatever hell was waiting for him. Bob noticed he was trying to speak so he leaned over to hear what final words the man had to say.

Evan coughed up some blood stained brown by the chewing baccy. He turned his head to the side and spat the foul gobbet into the dust. He chuckled painfully.

‘You bastards may have killed me but I’ve done my bit. You think you’ve achieved something dontcha? Well, y’all screwed once the Endeavour begins. My brother will see to that. It’s just a goddam shame I ain’t gonna be around to see it.’

He coughed once more and tried to catch his breath but it rattled in his throat and he slumped back against the well, dead.

Questioning their captive, they discovered that Evan’s hideout was in the caves beneath Red Hill itself. Leaving the Gatling Gun with the villagers, the posse rode off to check out the hideout.

Inside the caves, they found a load of similar crates to their own, scattered across the floor, all empty. Various bedrolls and other detritus of twenty men living together were strewn across the floor. After a brief search, they found Evan’s belongings and, tucked inside a coat, they found a letter addressed to Evan from his brother.

‘Evan

I hope this letter finds you in good health. The plans for the Endeavour are continuing at a pace but I need your help now more than ever.

As per our arrangement, I need you to secure the necessary items for me from our contact back east. I have arranged an ongoing contract with a courier service out of Colorado Springs who will deliver the items in a staggered fashion to avoid drawing the notice of certain authorities and hopefully allay suspicion of such unusual shipments.

As a second precautionary measure to further obscure the trail, they are to deliver the items to you in Red Hill and you are then to arrange transport for them to my facility marked on the enclosed map.

Do not fail me in this, brother. The Endeavour is far bigger than either of us now and we cannot afford to let our dedication in this matter slip. Too much is at stake.

Keep your head down and don’t draw unnecessary attention to yourself. I know what you get like when you are bored!

Be patient and we will soon be rewarded, I guarantee it.

Yours in partnership.

Robert.’


Attached to the back of the letter was a crude map with a route drawn on it leading up into the mountains. A big ‘X’ was marked clearly on the map next to a town called Silver Plume.

What does this all mean? What are the deliveries for? Were they all Gatling Guns? Were they something else? Why such secrecy surrounding them? And most importantly, what the hell is the Endeavour?

Find out more next week in Part 4 ‘How the West Was Wrong’
Why does my D20 only go up to 4?
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[R2 - 2015] Antidog's Deadlands Reloaded 9 years 6 days ago #249

  • Eomak
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Shalom Mr Cohen, I hope that life at the synagogue is treating you well. As you know im traveling west to discover more about this great land & also to learn more about myself. There have been times of great danger with wild animals & bandits involved but there have also been good companions & simple honest times of a man alone in the world, making his way as best he can. It has given me plenty of time to study the torah & I believe come to a better understanding of God.
Recently I travelled to a little place called Redhill. Clearly the place had seen much better times, everything was covered in shmutz & I mean everything. This place was the tuchis of America. The few remaining people were just shlepping around. Anyway we discovered their troubles being a fairly new player in the town a guy called Evan Henshaw, This guy was a shmekel, lowest of the low & like all guys of his calibre he brought a posse of other like minded ruffians with him. He was expecting to walk in & take what he wanted as always but me & the priest a father Montgomery managed to put some backbone in the locals & before you knew it they were acting like real mentsh again. It was a joy to witness. Well next day shmekel & his boys rode into town & we had organised an ambush of the locals & my travelling companions. Thats when I felt it, the presence of God, I "knew" bullets would just slide past me & as the ambush was sprung & the bandits went down in a hail of lead, I strode out into the street & levelled my shotgun at Evan Henshaw. Bob two feathers got a hit on him first & spun him away from the well he was hiding behind & as he spun round he looked up at me with fear in his eyes as I pulled the trigger. The shot lifted him off his feet & his boys just turned tail & galloped off. Again I felt His presence & I dropped my shotgun & raised my arms wide before bringing them together in a CLAP! like the heavens splitting in two. The horses in front of me reared & threw their riders allowing us to get more info about the goings on here.
Yesterday Mr Cohen I was anguished by the realisation I had taken a life, now I feel God's presence & see evidence of Him protecting me even encouraging me to redress the balance. I am confused by this but I must see this through to the end. I pray that as long as I keep my Yiddisher Kop in line I may come out of this a better more humble servant of God then I started.
Mazel Tov Mr Cohen.
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MellyMel - Thu 28 Mar - 16:30

i fancy mothership if there is space (get it?) - no actually i really do

Sarge - Thu 28 Mar - 15:00

Galleons players. Sant is running a Mothership RPG one shot tonight as Coriolis is off, come join the fun!

mikeawmids - Thu 28 Mar - 14:37

Perhaps Charlie Rumble will reach Cook Island after all....

Temrane - Thu 28 Mar - 13:07

galleons folks, no game tonight, work calls unfortunately! back next week

MellyMel - Thu 21 Mar - 15:38

i believe some new user(s) are awaiting authorisation. if so please recreate request as i've just deleted the russian bot swarm and your request might be spotted this time.

Inept - Thu 29 Feb - 17:07

Apologies decent guys... Hell has obviously inflicted itself on my van... It's broke. Won't be there tonight.

rhodsey - Tue 27 Feb - 09:09

I can't accomodate two sorry but I'm happy if they want to come and observe for a bit at least then see if there's a game while they are here.

mikeawmids - Mon 26 Feb - 17:36

Two people have contacted club through Facebook page to join a game. Can any of the R2 DMs accomodate two more new players?

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