The Riverton stockade is cold and remote. The comings and goings of a two small calvary units, about fifty men total, occupy your free time. The logging town was the latest victim of gold rush rumors, enticing all manner of opportunists to its hills, streams and saloons. Whatever opportunity you had hoped to attain, has been dashed by the fact that you will be transferred to the federal territorial prison in Cheyenne upon sunrise the next morning.
Seven prisoners to be turned over to Colonel Smithton to be escorted in the morning after breakfast.
The guards come around with a plate of what they refer to as "stew" and slide it under your cell door. The cool mountain air is whipping and you have nothing but a gray wool blanket to get you through the night. You have been here for a couple of days. The other prisoners try to talk and manage to do so when guards aren't around.
The fort is abuzz with rumors of a possible imminent Indian attack.
A prisoner has just been brought in the night before. He is being guarded by four soldiers at all times and remains in hand and leg irons. There are whisperings that he is a notorious serial killer from the western Wyoming territory. He is due to hang once a conviction can be secured upon the arrival of a local magistrate, set in a couple of days.
John Boy sits in his cell, whistling "Carry me Back to Ole Virginny," the plaintive tune drifting through the thin wooden walls. Unseen by the other prisoners, his fingers graze over nonexistent banjo strings, in tune with his whistling.
Jonah grimaces at the stew but picks it up and forces it down anyway. He pictured a perfect spit roast and imagined it was that that he was eating instead. It helped a little. Afterwards he wiped his mouth clean with his forearm. The whistled notes of the tune reached his ears and he remembered nights by the fire when his wife would sing many a song for him. He hung his head. Killed the wrong man... Where have you been taken my love? I'm coming for you. Just... delayed a little.
Estelle narrows her eyes at the prisoner in his irons, curious about what he might be in for. Her eyes move from him to the other prisoners, wary of their crimes as well. Seeing them all in one place, the degenerate filth, makes her wish more than anything that she had a firearm on her. The comfort of cold steel, the reliability of springs and cylinders. The knowledge of being able to end anyone who came near.
Instead, all she has a wool blanket, with nothing to conceal under it, and the blanket simultaneously too thin to keep her warm at night, and too thick to strangle anyone with. For the first time in years, Estelle feels vulnerable, and despises it.
Her only hope remaining is that the rumours of an Indian attack are real, and that if nothing else, she can get a tomahawk through the skull before being transferred. She spits dryly onto the ground, and gazes back at the guarded prisoner, wondering if he was a serial killer, how he ended up being caught.
Stephen sits in his cell, looking at the garbage this place calls food. The serial killer was a problem, he was bringing way too much heat down on this area.
"Can you stop humming that damn tune? Some of us actually have taste in what music we like."
Bunyan barely notices the cold. After logging through a Minnesota winter, this barely counts as a chill. Still, the food was even worse then a camp cook turned out, and that was saying something. He grumbled and wished dearly for a stack of flapjacks.
He hears a voice call to stop the music. Half-rising the lumberjack growls, "Let him sing. It beats listening to the wind howling."
Speaking louder, he tries to address the serial killer, 'How many did you kill?"
You have overheard some troopers claim that it took twenty men to bring him in.
You overheard some troopers say that he killed five soldiers before one could even touch him.
You have overheard some troopers refer to the prisoner as "Dicky Hatchet", the mad furtrapper from Montana territory.
The scarred and bloodied bearded hulk of a man stands at about six feet, five inches and weighs 260 lbs. Right now he is leaning against the wall, wrapped in a wool blanket, pretending not to hear anyone.
"Apparently not enough," he replies to the logger's inquest.
John Boy stops whistling at the serial killer's remark, and starts talking, a country twang easily noticeable in his voice, "If everyone we wanted to die ended up dead, Lord knows the world would drop like a stone. I'm perfectly happy with the current arrangement of death. I like a bit of difficulty between me and whatever lies beyond. Guess this stew might send some of us to find out though." He takes a bite of the concoction that might be qualify as food, before pushing it back out under the cell door.
The shackled man stares long and hard at Estelle almost as if he is reading her mind, but he simply smiles slightly and continues to look her up and down.
Estelle meets his gaze, grinning when he remarks that he hadn't killed enough men. "What's your name, stranger?"
The beast of a man ignores Estelle's question, smiles slightly and then doesn't look at her again.
Upon hearing Estelle's question, John Boy briefly furrows his eyebrows before saying, "Names John Boy, though I ain't sure you were askin' me. Anyway, I might ask the same question 'bout you."
Dark clouds begin to roll in the early evening, obscuring the sunset. There is some sort of faint native incantation far off that raises the alert of the men although it seems to be carried upon the wind that has picked up in force. CRACK! , a loud deafening clap of thunder succeeds a bright flash that nearly blinds the fort as a bolt of lightning strikes the headquarters building setting it alight. Several other lightning strikes hit the fort and the timber structure begins to burn. A mad chaos engulfs the compound as the horses go wild and the troopers scramble to extinguish the fire in an almost futile attempt. The wind picks up force so strong that several of the roofs become dislodged and blow off of the buildings completely, including your makeshift prison. A strong wind blows through a walled section engulfed by flames creating a fire wind that swallows two barracks. The exterior wall begins to fall over in places.
The killer smirks as two guards come to check on him. They open his cell at gunpoint. In a flash he wraps his chains around the neck of the first guard using him as a shield until he can flip his feet up around the neck of the second one, simultaneously strangling the both of them. The burning fort and soldiers as well as the toppling winds provide enough distraction with almost half of the unit perished a rain of arrows descends down upon the fort as soldiers scramble for positions and leadership. A throng of Crow warriors rush the fort.
The killer has begun to rifle through the pockets of the dead troopers whose lives he just ended to find the key to his shackles and to the rest of the cells. He moves quickly to free himself, but stops for a moment and looks through the small, barred windows in the rest of the cells.
I'd let you out, but I don't know if you are dangerous or not. Maybe some of ya be thinkin bout cashin in my reward. He runs off for a bit then returns and throws the keys down in front of Estelle's cell door and then threw a stick into the cell. Clad now in a grizzly fur and wearing a black hat, he tips it toward Estelle, Ma'am, he says and then simply walks through an opening in the heavily damaged rampart.
"Estelle." She says with a nod to John Boy. Before she ask anything else, hell (not to mention the serial killer) breaks loose.
Estelle has to admit to herself that, handsome or not, she herself might think about cashing in on his reward. Since he gave her the option of escape, she gives him a few seconds head start before leaping into action, grabbing the stick and sliding the end of it through the key ring, pulling them towards her.
She immediately moves to the downed guards, seeing if the killer left anything useful on their bodies.
"Can you unlock these cells before you do whatever it is you are doing?"
"How much are they givin' if your dead?" Jonah calls out as the killer leaves. He had crouched in the corner as the roof blew off and now gazed up, gauging the difficulty of any climb. Turning back to the bars he sees the woman escaping with the keys. If he could get them then getting out of here would be much easier. "What say you just accidentally drop those there keys right here in my cell."
William had never seen a 'tornado' but he had heard about it from other men. Was that what this was? Well, whatever else it was, it was also escape.
He grunts as he watches the killer kill the two men easily and escape.
I guess he doesn't need a sidekick' William thinks before turning and trying to climb out of the suddenly roofless cell.
Upon seeing the lumberjack climbing out, John Boy smirks and follows his lead. He starts to climb, using the cell bars for leverage. Jus' when you think yer in for it, life turns right around. Guess I ain't gon' rot in prison anytime soon.
Estelle considers running off, taking the same approach the serial killer did. She looks at the door for a long second, weighing her options. Even if the others turned on her later, more people might be more of a distraction, if nothing else. Less eyes on her. Still, for all she knew they might kill her on the spot. Finally, she frowns and turns back to the cells. "Hope y'all don't forget this." She mutters, unlocking the cells.
William Jameson happens to catch some soldiers leaving the quartermaster's building to join in the defense of the fort. Gunshots ring out, but with less frequency than you might expect. Already there are many dead. Some of the soldiers missing their scalps.
A soldier appears and points his rifle at William and demands, Stop where you are, prisoner. Return to your cell.
"We stand a better chance if we stick together. I doubt we will find any other friends in this place. And the faster we arm ourselves the more likely we are to live to see another day."
"Why that's mighty kind of you." Jonah says as he pulls open his door. He sees a couple of the other climbing and chuckles to himself. He makes his way to the exit and peeks out. Where did they take my things... He thinks, looking for the quartermaster's and finding it right next door.
John Boy abandons his attempts to climb the wall and steps out of the cell, nodding at Estelle, "Thank ya kindly miss Estelle, woulda' been downright tough climbin' that wall. Can't say I'm fixin' to forget anytime soon." He looks around at the other prisoners, grinning at them before saying, "What say we raise a mighty ruckus and get outta this dump?"
Estelle nods. "Reckon it's a good plan. We'll all be in a better place to do such once we get our gear back." She gestures to the Quartermaster's building. "Shall we, gentlemen?"
"Mighty big ruckus already out there. Good luck to you folks." Seeing the guard focused on William, Jonah dashes towards the Quartermaster's as fast as he can.
"I've killed 12 men and you'll be 13 if you don't get out of my way."
William grins and lets the joy of the rage fill him. Heart pumping, blood flowing, muscles flexing. The rush of combat and the chance of death.
The lumberjack runs toward the armed solider, ignoring any bullets either whizzing past or that hit him. In his red-soaked vision he has eyes for nothing but the single solider. For a fleeting instant he wishes his has his axe but the thought is burned away by rage. Instead he reaches with stronger fingers to wrestle the armed man to the ground.
Seeing the lumberjack engaged with the guard he shouts, "Meet us at the quartermasters when you're finished up.", before running towards the quartermasters office.
The crazed lumberjack swiftly rushes the soldier, knocking his rifle from this hands as he wrestles him to the ground. The soldier struggles to reach for something in his boot. The fight and flames rage on all around them as does the wind.
The others secure their gear from the quartermaster's vault along with some extra rifles and ammunition.
The lumberjack nods to McNamara, wondering how far he can trust his new 'allies'. In any case he was a bit busy. Was the man reaching for a knife, a small revolver?
Well, it wouldn't matter.
William pins the solider, locking the man's arms painfully behind his head. "ready to give up yet?" he growls in the man's ear.
SOLDIER DOWN! the grappled trooper starts to yell to draw the attention of another trooper.
William punches the screaming, pinned solider.
Feeling his face being caved in he lets out a blood curling scream faced with his possible last moment alive. Aaaaaayyyhhh! Help me!
"Quiet!" William rages, and punches the man again, the blood pumping in his veins.
The trooper falls silent, blood gushing from his cracked skull, William Jameson doesn't seem to see if anyone notice. The fighting around them is starting to subside as more are killed, each side taking great loses. For now, there is enough of a ruckus to provide a distraction for the criminals to escape.
John Boy grabs William's belongings, and heads out of the office, motioning or the others to follow. He hands the heavy sack over to the hulking lumberjack. "I don't know what's in there, neither do I care, but you did a mighty number on that soldier there. Whaddya say we get outta here while there's still livin' to be done?"
"Sounds like a plan." Stephen says as he loads his pepperbox rifle.
William nods, wondering how much he trusts these fellows. 'Did you find a bag with an axe in it?" He takes the sack from Macnamara.
He nods and pulls out his weapons, strapping them on. "Now what? Other then getting out of here. Anyone have a plan?"
"Nope. Figured we'd start with that." Feeling reassured with her gun back in the holster, she turns to the others. "Maybe steal us some horses in the commotion?"
John Boy begins sharpening his long hunting knife, and lets out a small chuckle. "Horse thievery? Well, sure wouldn't be the first time. Anyhow, I'm sure if we could get to the stables we could be outta here and half way outta Wyoming by tomorrow. That bein' said, if we can escape without gettin' killed I'll brew y'all up a batch of my pappy's famous moonshine.
The convicts manage to escape the fortification with any additional confrontations, They are able to grab four sturdy mares. Most of the Crow are leaving the carnage heading in the same direction as the murdering stranger did, to the north. There is a trail north, but a trail roughed in by wagon wheels leads south. It offers much more concealment than the northern trail.
Estelle is secretly relieved when there aren't enough horses, never having learned to ride herself. An argument with her father at one of her first lessons ended it quickly - he'd insisted she ride side-saddle and she'd snorted, remarking that that was no way for anyone to ride a horse. Now, she cocks an eyebrow at John Boy as he moves towards one of the mares. "Fancy riding doubles?" She asks.
"I can't ride a horse." William says, his rough voice quiet after the storm and fighting. "I will need to ride with someone."
Then, "I vote for go south, I don't want to run into that killer on a empty lane, do any of you?"