GM Spiderbeard's One Shot RPG Tour (Inactive)

Game Master Barvo Delancy

Caroline's shaky hands are unable to aim properly, and the bullet just crashes through the hole of the chruch roof.

I don't think Tim saw the games are active so gave him a nudge.

Joaquin empties his two barrels at the demon once more, moving closer but retaining cover.

Shooting: 1d10 ⇒ 6
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 4
Damage: 3d6 ⇒ (1, 2, 4) = 7

Shooting: 1d10 ⇒ 3
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 6
Ace: 1d6 ⇒ 5
Damage: 4d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 2, 4) = 13

Map is updated. Reloading one barrel as a free action.

Joaquin fires twice at the demon and his second shotgun blast takes the creature, knocking it back a step. The church shakes as it roars. One of the cultists, emboldened, leaps at Stuthman but his stabs don't manage to do much than cut the mortician up a lil.

STUTHMAN AND HIS MARVELOUS JMICE are up!

Did the demon sustain an additional wound from Joaquin? I had one from the previous round, because mice

Stuthman, his mind in freefall, barely registers the cultists surrounding him. He sees a long dark corridor stretching in front of him, and a demon at the end of it. His rifle snaps to his shoulder:

Shooting: 1d8 ⇒ 4
Damage: 2d8 ⇒ (1, 5) = 6

From the last round, it looks like this is what you used for the mice swarm:

Swarm: 1d12 ⇒ 3

Nope - every hit counts right now. White Fate chip to reroll
Swarm: 1d12 ⇒ 6
Damage: 2d4 ⇒ (2, 3) = 5

Whoops, yes. This thing is just brutally tough.

Tuthman and his mice continue to do their worst against the demon but the bullet ricochets, and the mice swarm over the demon but are unable to do any serious damage. Il Brutto spins as a cultist leaps on him, stabbing down and disorienting the big man.

The demon, sick of this s%*#, stomps northwards, roaring as it makes a beeline for Stuthman. The demon is badly wounded, and its slowed pace means it doesn't get to the mortician in time to rip his head off.

Caroline is up! I'm collapsing the cultist initiative blocks for the sake of sanity. Il Brutto is hit and he is shaken!

Cursing her shaky hands, Caroline quickly fumbles a couple of shells into her shotgun. She turns just in time to see the cultist assailing Joaquin. Without thinking, she spins around and levels her shotgun at the attacker.

shooting: 1d8 ⇒ 1
wild: 1d6 ⇒ 5

Ugh. Okay, using the last white chip to reroll.

shooting: 1d8 ⇒ 6
wild: 1d6 ⇒ 3

So, +2 for the shotgun, -2 for the rats, -2 for the reload.
Total: 6 + 2 - 2 - 2 = 4

damage: 3d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 1) = 10
Ace: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Total: 10 + 2 = 12

Caroline manages to exhale slowly and steady her shaking hands, trying to figure out what the hell is going on and how she wound up in this mess. The gunshot roars in the church and the back of the cultist's head explodes.

One of the cultists snaps out of Joaquin's spell while the others wander around aimlessly. He screams, charging the big man and leaps on him, sinking the knife in deep. Meanwhile, Stuthman is a bloody mess from continually dodges knife wounds, and now a demon trying to eat his face. However, he's still doing uh, just fine. Fine.

Il Brutto is stabbed and wounded 1! Il Brutto and Stuthman are up!

Spending a Benny to Soak.

Vigor: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Joaquin feels the bite of the steel finally get him good, turning his teeth to the cultist.

That's a fail, so I'm Shaken and at -1. Making a Spirit roll to Unshake.

Spirit: 1d4 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3
Ace: 1d4 ⇒ 3
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 2

I'm Unshaken, but I believe I still have to spend a Benny to attack this round, which I'll do. I'm allllll outta Bennies now.

Il Brutto doesn't have time for the cultist, and just pushes him in the face as he looks back to the demon. In his mind, this is his destiny, his calling - his change to prove he isn't what the dream said he was. His hand drops one shotguns back into its holster, only to pull the loaded Colt of Marshall Bryce out his belt.

"EH, YOU MOTHERLESS DOG!", he roars at the abomination, raising the pistol at the thing trying to devour Stuthman's face. "EVEN IL BRUTTO, HE KNOWS TH' RULE... NO EATING IN CHURCH!"

Oh, that's awful and I love it. What a boor. Anyways, making attack roll on the demon as Joaquin shoots with the last slug in the shotgun and the first round of the pistol. Taking the -1 for the Wound Penalty.

Pistol: 1d10 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5. Hit, no Raise.
Damage: 2d6 ⇒ (6, 6) = 12
Ace x2: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 4) = 9
Total: 21 DAM. Ouch!

Seeing the well-placed shot rip into the creature, he raises the shotgun at the cultist behind him, barely looking at the at the man as he pulls the trigger.

Shotgun: 1d10 - 1 ⇒ (9) - 1 = 8. Hit, one Raise.
Damage: 4d6 ⇒ (3, 2, 4, 4) = 13

S@$+, Brutto! Between you and Thod in CCT, I don't know why I bother getting involved in combat :P

Stuthman blocks and dodges the cultists' knife thrusts mechanically, on autopilot. But, as the demon approaches, tendrils of cold heat creep across his skull. Searing white-hot pain coalesces in a single, vertical axe-strike in the middle of his forehead, as incoherent rage screams from his mouth:

Looking to just lash out with whatever power is keeping Stuthman sane. I've no idea what kind of damage roll that would be...

Faith: 1d8 ⇒ 2
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Oh!, well, none I guess.
Screw it, using that last White Chip:

Faith: 1d8 ⇒ 7
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 2

The shotgun roars and Stuthman -completely loses his mind- as he calls into whatever power he channels. An enormous hole opens up in the demon's chest as the mice pour over the hideous creature. It is then blasted back by an enormous ray of white wnergy that flies from Stuthman's hands as he lets out a horrifying scream of rage and insanity. The demon flies backwards, and through the back wall of the church before crumbling into ash.

End of Combat

The cultists start screaming to match Stuthman's own howls, fleeing out the blasted-open wall of the church.

Stuthman falls forward, unconscious. Breaking his nose on the floor.

Il Brutto reloads slowly, breathing some now, and considers shooting some of the fleeing cultists. He decides against it, much too interested in swaggering to himself, and makes his way over to Stuthman.

"Did you see, Senorita Caldwell?" he calls with glee. "Joaquin, he don't fall to Hell. He triumph, and kill it in the face!" He shakes his fist in victory. "Yes, you and Stuthman, you help a lot, but it was clearly Joaquin's guns that -- oh." The big Mexican looks down at Stuthman's facee, seeing the mess there. Squatting, he pours some water over it.

"I'ss not so bad, a broken nose, Stuthman!" he says loudly, slapping his cheeks gently. "Wake up! Joaquin, he break his nose many times, he is still very handsome." He grins up at Caroline.

"What happens now?", he asks, assuming she is the one who will know.

Still a bit shaken from...everything, Caroline doesn't respond immediately. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before answering.

"Yes, I saw. You did splendidly. You both did. Is he...all right?" She peers uncertainly down at Stuthman's prone form.

"As for now? Well...I suppose we did what we came to do, more or less. We should see if things have calmed down in the rest of town, I suppose - and we should probably figure out what happened to Pearl. There's no telling if things will simply go back to normal now that Cheval's influence has been removed, or..." She raises one hand, palm up, in a gesture of uncertainty.

A strange stillness lies over COffin Rock as you stalk out of the church. With Cheval dead, the Brotherhood of the New Covenant scattered, and the demon he summoned gone to wherever that damned creature came from there's a strange peace over the town. The hootin' and hollerin' that filled the air is replaced by confused chatter. You look down the street to see the proprietor of the Crystal River hotel stalks out beneath his CRY-A- RIVER sign with a rope burn around his neck and a black eye.

"She's gone... she's finally gone." He collapses back and starts sobbing.

Further down the street you see Pearl with a smoking rifle in hand stalking towards you. It looks like she's been in a hell of a gunfight, caught up with townsfolk gone mad. A few survivors behind her have dropped their weapons and just look confused and lost.

"The hell just happened?" she asks. At this point you notice the red sky is a shade bluer. Behind her you see a smoldering body tumble out of a window at the Jewel Theatre, the literal man-eaters collapsing into mere husks.

And for the first time you glance into a reflection in the town, nothing stares back but your own tired face.

Congratulations! You can play out a denouement here of what your characters do in the aftermath in town as things slowly go back to whatever passed for normal here in the first place.

With Joaquin's help, Mr. Stuthman creaks, slowly, to his feet and, leaning heavily on his friend, staggers out of the church. His eyes dart warily around and he jerks at every sound, but he has no words to explain to Pearl what has happened. He can only shake his head - wide-eyed in denial of what he has witnessed.

Shoving himself upright from Joaquin's shoulder, and refusing to meet Caroline's eye, Stuthman pulls his last remaining mason jar of formaldehyde from his pack. Shaky, nerveless fingers slowly twist the lid from the jar, and drop it into the dirt. Three filthy digits dip into the clear, acrid liquid; fingers that then drip a trail from malar to mandible, flicking the rest into a fine mist around him.

Maybe he doesn't have what it takes to bless this town, but with this - this preserving liquid and whatever forces have helped him this week - perhaps he can keep this from happening again. Return sanity and normalcy and rightness to this place.

Ignoring the others - ignoring conversation and questions and demands to stop - Stuthman stalks away. Muttering in Latin, reciting bone and muscle names and half-remembered prayers to Christian and Indigenous deities, Stuthman stumbles in a feverish trance through every step of the town, flicking three trembling fingers at every surface until his hand is white and numb as if a corpse's. Until exhaustion takes him, and he lies in the street or alley or graveyard to rest. Until his jar is empty and he lies on the church steps and weeps.

He weeps until the sun sets and sleeps until it rises again in the east. He rises then and, if horse or friends remain, he will ride back to the city, and see if Marshall Bryce has more work for him.

There's a spell in Deadlands called Sanctify that can be used to protect an area from "evil." I dunno if that applies or is necessary, but if it happens as a result of Stuthman losing his mind, that's all to the good. I'll make a Faith roll, just for fun:"
Faith: 1d8 ⇒ 5
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Joaquin wearies of Stuthman's blubbering quickly, instead leaving him to weep alone and immersing himself with tales of his own bravery for the townsfolk. He drinks, he boasts, he gambles, he cheats. And although the night is a blur, he is somehow the first awake among the unlikely companions, seated on the back of the ex-Marshall's horse and with horses of his compadres already saddled and watered for them.

It seems like a somber, almost dignified moment as he hands the reigns over silently, giving each a nod. But for Joaquin Diego Rigoberto Santiago Ramirez, it ends as it begins the moment they ride out.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH....!"

There is only the sound of groaning to accompany him.

"ON A TEN-DOLLAR HORSE AN' A FORTY-DOLLAR SADDLE! JOAQUIN MAKE HIS LIVING A-PUNCHING CATTLE! COME-A KAY-YI-YIPPIE-YIPPIE YAY...! Is good, eh Senorita..? Hehhehheh... COME-A KAY-YI-YIPPIE YIPPIE YAAAAAAAY, STUTHMAN! COME-A KAY-YI-YIPPIE YIPPIE YAAAAAAAY....!"

Sorry it’s taken me so long, but in my defense, time is a flimsy illusion that is increasingly proving to be meaningless.

Post to come shortly.

Is cool! I'll wait for your post before closing off.

Caroline flashes Pearl a tired smile. "More or less what you'd expect," she replies dryly.

After giving Pearl a brief rundown on what had happened since they got separated, Caroline entrusts her with checking on the rest of the town. Leaving the others to their own devices, she retreats to a quiet place to begin recording her memories of the events while they're still fresh. She'll have time to get statements on the record from other people in town, of course; what's important right now is to make sure that her own account is as accurate as possible.

She stays that way for some time, her pen laying out every detail she can remember, no matter how seemingly insignificant. After a time, she makes her way back into the company of others, gently but persistently pressing them for any statement she can drag out of them. By the time she's done, no one in sight has been spared her questioning.

As the morning comes, she finds Joaquin already saddled up and ready to go. She spares a concerned glance for Stuthman, noting the man's demeanor and realizing she hadn't seen him during the previous night's informal inquisition.

As for herself, she grudgingly mounts her own horse, running on very little sleep. Whether it was residual adrenaline, her own racing mind already writing the story of what she'd witnessed, or some unconscious echo of the anxiety she feels every night when she goes to sleep, remembering what she saw in that battlefield medical tent, she spent most of the night awake. With a sigh, she mentally steels herself for the long ride ahead. The next story is out there waiting, and it isn't going to report itself.

The word on everyone's lips is "Ahpuch". Visions of a dread spirit, a manitou, linger in the minds of the tormented souls who survived the assault on Coffin Rock. Whatever the evil spirit did to seize control of Reverend Cheval died with the damned preacher, but its infuence is now lost.

As Il Brutto hits the bar to be the legend he knows he is, Stuthman tries to bless the town with what's left of his shattered mind. Caroline retreats and records to ensure nothing of her incredible journey has been lost before emerging to gather her final statements.

You spend as much time as you need to, with Stuthman exhausting whatever powers he had to try and protect this town from its fate, Caroline speaking to every townsfolk she can find, and Il Brutto cheating every damn person he can at cards.

When it's time to leave you do so at dawn, the sun in your eyes. Coffin Rock'll be alright. Years hence it turns out that the Crooked Earth claim has plenty more copper to give and the town settles into a nice rhythm, as far as rough mining towns go. Turns out that when you don't have some deadly spirit trying to ruin the place you can make a decent living around these parts.

With the coffin-shaped bluff looking at your back and the strange, once-cursed town settled beneath it, you ride off into the sun to report your findings.

The End