Music by Morricone: A Stone and a Hard Place Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Loup Blanc

Claire is up bright and early and finds herself in the Oriental again, looking for the rest of the posse. Somehow, it's not terribly surprising to see the Earps around. Or to here that the Clantons are causing trouble. "He's going to hurt himself or someone else before he actually manages to pick a fight with any of you." She sighs. "Let's get this taken care of before the lout manages to shoot someone by accident."

"I hope he gives more of a challenge than last night." Biff says, shaking his head.

"I thought being good at bar fights was a prerequisite for banditry! It's a shame."

When the Erps ask for assistance Askuwheteau steps forward with a nod. "I may be able to get close enough to him without him noticing to disarm him. though i would prefer to have my weapons on my person just in case things go badly. Am I correct in believing that deputizing would allow us to do just that?"

Virgil grabs Eddy by the shoulder, and with a surprisingly firm grip. "Now hold on, son. Bureaucracy may take time, but it's important. That said, I'd rather this go quick, so." He points to the bartender. "Ned, you stand witness now, alright?"

The marshal raises his right hand and gestures for the assembled group to do the same. "The Deputy Marshal's duty in the town of Tombstone is to assist the Town Marshal in faithfully executing all lawful precepts, under the authority of the Town of Tombstone and its inhabitants, and without malice or partiality. Do you so swear?" Once the posse so much as starts to nod, he lowers his hand and nods himself. "There. You're deputies now, and Ned will attest to it. So long as you stay on the right side of the law I can vouch for your actions."

"Hell, Virge, why didn't you speed up the process for me?" Wyatt asks, the edge of anxiousness to his voice killing some of the humor.

"Well back then we had more time, and actual badges to boot." Virgil sighs and sits at the bar, still regarding the posse. "Now, you ain't got badges, but you've got the law, and that's what matters. As far as weapons, I can allow you each a small arm, say a pistol, but that's all."

"Well that's good," Morgan says, lining up a shot at the billiards table. "If you've got an iron on you, you might try buffaloing old Ike." What we in the modern day call pistol-whipping.

"That's what I'd suggest myself," Virgil says. The eldest Earp runs his eyes over each of our heroes in turn and nods toward the door. "Well, you'd best get a move-on. Find Ike and bring him back here. We'll meet you and take him to the judge."

"Pistol-whipping an armed man like cowards? What do you think we are? French? Sir, we will do it like God intended us to do every thing on Earth: with our own damned hands." he says before going out.

Soo... how do we do it? By the way, I think that Hard of Hearing doesn't suit Eddy very much, are you okey with me swapping it with Heroic?

"I'm afraid that i do not use you, fire arms, would you allow me to carry my bow or, preferably, my spear in its stead?" Askuwheteau asks, giving the parties pistols a look of diastase.

Claire walks over to the bar. "Fantastic. I feel bloody naked without my six-shooter" She snatches her silvered revolver from Ned the instant its in sight and casually spins the cylinder, checking the bullets. "If it's all the same to you gents, I'll let the limey face punchers knock him out cold. But if he starts shootin', I'm aiming for the head before he hurts a civilian." She slides the gun into its holster. "Well, shall we get a move on?"

"Somehow I doubt I'd be of much use with that... but if he starts shooting it's likely better for us if I've something to return the favor with." Samuel slides his derringer into the pocket of his vest, and pulls out a pack of playing cards, absentmindedly shuffling the deck between his hands as he waits for the others. "If those two want to try their hand at beating the poor fool down, I welcome them; likely better than starting a shoot-out in the middle of town."

"Spear's alright, although you'll get some strange looks." Virgil gestures for Ned to hand the more primitive weapon to Ash. "We'll be waiting."

And so our posse heads out onto the streets of Tombstone. The bright sky and crisp air help brush off any last vestiges of tiredness and inaction right quick, and the group begins searching for Ike Clanton. Although it takes some time simply to go over the criss-crossed streets of the city, actually noticing Ike once the group comes upon him isn't too difficult, and everyone but the British boys spots old Ike on Fourth Street, just a few buildings down from the Grand Hotel. The Cowboy's waving a Winchester rifle, albeit one-handed, and letting out quite a holler.

"Where's that bastard Holliday at? I'll, I'll show him who runs the town, here! We'll just see whose mama had, had unnatural car-nal knowledge!" The last phrase is slurred and mispronounced, but quite clearly a reference to some conversation the party didn't have the pleasure to witness.

Ike Clanton's been found, and he hasn't as-yet spotted our posse. The question now is: How shall they go about bringing him in?

This is up to you folks; I'm all ears for all sorts of ideas, so basically any way you can reasonably think of to get to Ike before he starts shooting, just explain it and roll away. Of course, you could also risk the direct approach.

How tall are the buildlings and how hard would it be for the Daring Duo to climb one to the roof? I was thinking that a quite literal Drop on him could work

Cornelius whispers to the others. "Drunk in public, possession of a weapon in city grounds without a license, verbal assault and threatening of a citizen in good standing with the Marshall, attempt to incite a riot...I think that's grounds for arrest by duly appointed deputies. Here's my thoughts: Claire, Sam, and I post up on windows nearby, Ash sneak around behind, and the Brits flat out, unarmed, demand the man drop his weapon by legal authority. If he don't, before he can raise the thing, we put so much lead in him he'll be pissing tin for a month after if he lives and the Brits play soccer with his spleen while Ash makes a criminal-kabob out of him."

His face turns sour and he shakes his head and smiles again. "I ain't a fan of gang types persecutin' the lawful citizens and ruinin' it for people. If he drops it, the Brits take his weapon and escort him to the Marshall, all civil like."

Most buildings in town are only a story or two tall, although their construction doesn't lend itself to easy climbing, and Ike's about in the middle of the street, so it wouldn't be easy to drop on him from a rooftop in any case. Still, if that's what you want to try, go ahead and roll for it, Climbing would be at -1 and there'd be an Agility test to jump to Ike.

As far as Cornelius's plan goes, keep in mind the Earps explicitly asked for this to be finished without a gunfight.

Can I do nonlethal damage with Powers?

Eddy looks to Biff before flexing a few times "Dick's plan sounds nice and smooth, except the part where we debase ourselves with gunpower instead of manly fisticuffing. Old Earp wanted this job finished the righteous old way."

Climb: 1d4 - 3 ⇒ (2) - 3 = -11d6 - 3 ⇒ (6) - 3 = 3
Ace: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Total: 5. More than what I needed

As he begins climbing the building Eddy says "Biff! I am falling on him from above, wouls you fancy coming with me or rather ambush him from air & ground?"

Nonlethal damage with powers will depend on the Power and its trapping, but for Bolt I would certainly allow it, especially with the typical Martial Artist trapping of throwing stones.

Eddy succeeds in clambering up a nearby building, finding handholds and footholds that help him reach the roof. Those inside hear a mighty clatter, but does Ike hear his call? As of yet it seems he doesn't, still hollering in the street and waving his rifle around, turned away from the posse.

Notice: 1d6 - 3 ⇒ (3) - 3 = 0 Wild: 1d6 - 3 ⇒ (4) - 3 = 1

"Should we... do something? I mean, these two look like they have it well in hand, but..." Samuel peeks around the corner at Clanton, keeping his derringer in his vest. "Claire, follow me. Maybe we can calm him down, get him to lower than gun long enough that those two can get the drop on him." Without waiting for much of a response, Sam walks out from around the corner slowly, hands raised to show he isn't a threat. A pack of playing cards is held openly in one hand, but it's obvious he isn't brandishing any weapons.

"Whoa there, friend! Why don't you stop waving that rifle around, scaring the townsfolk. This isn't any way to try and deal with Holliday, no matter how he wronged you. All this'll do is bring the law down on you, and I don't see a way to get even with Holliday from inside a jail cell." If Clanton doesn't otherwise threaten to shoot him, Sam moves a bit closer, hands still raised. "Just put that thing down, and go deal with Holliday when you're good and sober. You wouldn't want drink to rob you of your revenge, would you?"

Persuasion: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Wild; Ace: 1d6 ⇒ 3
Total of 11.

Too slow. I'm dropping it *muffled dubstep sounds in the background*

Eddy takes a run and jumps, once again posing mid air transitioning to an Elbow drop. "BEHOLD! THE DEPUTY'S ELBOW!"

Agility: 1d8 ⇒ 21d6 ⇒ 4
Enough.

Quite Literal Wild Fighting: 1d10 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 161d6 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Witness Me: 1d10 ⇒ 1

Non Lethal Damage: 1d4 + 1d8 + 8 ⇒ (1) + (5) + 8 = 14

"I have no words," Claire says quietly, rubbing her temples. "I'm a g#& d@!n black magic usin' hexslinger and that is still by far the strangest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Sam walks up to Ike, possibly with Claire in tow, and calls out to the drunken Cowboy. Clanton turns to regard Sam after a moment, his eyes clearly struggling to focus on the thin Yankee before him. The rifle comes up, wavers in the air--never quite aimed at the posse--and then drops as he clearly mulls over the words. "No, I... I gots to have justice on him..." His eyes drift into the middle distance. "Robbery... the train? Was that something you...?"

Just as you wonder if clarity might be coming to Ike, there's a booming shout from atop a nearby building. Looking up, the posse sees Eddy's form silhouetted against the sky, soaring out like a strange, British bird of prey, swooping down for its kill. Ike Clanton is the last to turn, bringing his drunken gaze up to the strange event unfolding. He blinks just before Eddy's elbow connects with his temple. He collapses to the ground as his eyes roll backward into his head, his grip on the rifle relaxing until the weapon falls by his side.

With the Raise on Sam's test, anyone in the posse could get close enough to Surprise Ike, and people who actively attempted to gain the advantage would have the Drop. Technically Eddy's attack only brought Ike to 3 Wounds, leaving him standing, and he could Soak, but that series of events is too priceless to not just give him the K.O. Well done, sir.

Afterthought: actually, Eddy already considered the Drop in his post, but he didn't roll his Raise damage, and with that roll for Fighting he could easily have called a shot to the head, so yeah, he absolutely wrecked Ike.

"You take the low road, I'll take the high road." Biff confirms.

Biff pulls out a handful of cat's eye marbles and aims carefully at the man's noggin. He fires off three of them in rapid succession, timed to coincide with Eddy landing on him.

Bolt 1: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Wild!: 1d6 ⇒ 6

Bolt 2: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Wild!: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Bolt 3: 1d6 ⇒ 3
Wild!: 1d6 ⇒ 6

Aces, baby!: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Ace 2: 1d6 ⇒ 5

So a 9 and an 11 to-hit.

Damage+Raise: 3d6 ⇒ (6, 2, 4) = 12

Damage 2 +Raise2 : 3d6 ⇒ (1, 4, 2) = 7

Ace Damage 1: 1d6 ⇒ 6
Ace Damage 1: 1d6 ⇒ 6
Ace Damage 1: 1d6 ⇒ 3

27 and 7 damage.

Edit: Dammit! Ninja'd by the GM!

"Yo. Soy. El Eddy!" he yells with a booming voice "Bomb defused. Shall we bring him already to the Earps?" Eddy asks the rest with a childish smile on his bearded face.

"Yes, yes, I think we should do that before things get weirder." She sighs and pulls out a cigarette, lighting up and taking a long draw.

The posse hauls Ike back to the Oriental, bringing the rifle along as evidence and to keep it off the street. The man finally starts to come to about when they reach the saloon and Virgil and Morgan Earp meet them outside. "Didn't hear any gunshots, so I'm guessing things went well enough?" Virgil spits on the ground, the saliva coming close to Ike's head. "Well, let's get this one over to Judge Spicer. Wyatt's already down that way to let him know. Y'all better tag along, just in case."

The walk to the courthouse is uneventful, although the atmosphere in town is noticeably different from the day before. There are few pedestrians on the streets, and those that are out walk quickly, their heads down. It isn't hard to notice Virgil watching this with an angry frown.

As the posse rounds the corner and approaches the courthouse, they can hear what sounds like a heated conversation from the building's front. The scene that unfolds as they draw nearer is Wyatt with a young man wearing a red sash, who's currently engaged in yelling at the lawman. "--and I ain't your kid. You better watch your step, Earp--I'll fight you right now!"

The young man flips his duster open to one side, apparently showing something to Wyatt. That something becomes clearly visible as a pistol when Wyatt grabs it from the man's belt and slams its barrel upward across his jaw. The Cowboy staggers back and Wyatt slams the pistol's grip down on his head, driving him to the ground.

"Y'alright there, Wyatt?" Morgan calls out to his brother with a grin. Wyatt, already kneeling down to grab the unconscious man, looks up at the party.

"Just teaching Tom here a few manners," he says, hauling the young McLaury to his feet. "Morgan, you take these folks back to the Oriental, we'll meet you there. Virge and I can take this pair to Spicer."

"Well enough," Claire says as they deposit Ike on the floor of the saloon. "He might not be wakin' up for a while, but that's to be expected after such a nasty blow to the head." She nods. "Right then. With any luck, he'll be behind bars and out of everyone's hair before he wakes up at all."

She can't help feeling a little jumpy as they walk through town. There's a nervous tension in the air that has her wondering if the Cowboys will be around the next corner with guns drawn to make some sort of statement against the lawmen. The townsfolk can see as sure as she can that a storm is a comin'. She hears Wyatt and the kid before she sees them and a low whistle escapes her lips as he beats the kid down with his own gun. "Jaysus. You don't play around much, do ya' Wyatt." She sighs. "Alright. We'll see you back at the saloon then. Best a' luck with the judge. Maybe he'll actually be helpful today."

Eddy takes a moment to admire the beauty of Wyatt's pistol whipping and gets close to shake hands "You sir indeed know how to smack a punk. I'd rather use my hands than any implement but still a most beautiful smack."

Putting a cigar in his mouth he turns to the rest and tell them as he light it "What are we delaying ourselves for? I do believe I've earned some bragging rights today, and glory is a dish best served with scotch."

"Hopefully he'll be behind bars when he wakes up, but we'll see if he stays there." Virgil's response to Claire's comment doesn't sound hopeful.

At the courthouse, Wyatt shakes his head. "Ain't much room for play, these days. Cowboys want to tussle, I'll give it back to 'em." He nods to Eddy.

Morgan only grins at the Brit's more lighthearted conversation. "That sure sounds good to me," he says, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Let's head back to the saloon. I'll buy y'all the first round myself."

The walk back to the Oriental is near as silent and sober as the trip to the courthouse, but once again there isn't any trouble on the way. A few more folks are about, standing on porches or making their way down the streets, clearly less nervous since there hasn't been any gunplay after Ike's capture. Still, the mood is tense all around town.

Nothing adds to it more than when the sharp-eyed of the posse (Notice test) notice a pair of gentlemen watching their passage from the mouth of an alley. One of the pair, sporting a thick mustache and a gap-toothed grin over his scarlet shirt and sash around his neck, has sallow skin and looks decidedly unhealthy. The other, with similar facial hair but duller clothes, simply has wild eyes that are offputting to say the least. Though they watch the posse pass, they make no motion.

Back at the Oriental, Morgan makes good on his offer of a drink and settles in to wait for his brothers, setting up a game of billiards to pass the time. "Anybody care to play?"

Claire's eyes dart momentarily to the alley way. Her eyes narrow and she unbuckles her holster, but doesn't respond to their watchers beyond that. "A little early for too many drinks," she says as they make it back to the Oriental. "But I'll take you up on a game."

Notice: 1d4 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 11d6 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4
Ace: 1d6 ⇒ 6
Eddy, what does your britbong eyes see?: 1d6 ⇒ 2
12. Suck it, Legolas.

"Oh, billiard. It's been a while since the last time I had an opportunity to play..." Says Eddy as he picks a pool stick "Do you know how do the spaniards call the cue? Taco! Hahahahaha! These spanish, since Trafalgar they haven't stopped stepping over their own feet..." then a gong rings inside Eddy's mind "Taco... like the mexican food... The mexican! Godspeed! Did anybody else notice the crimson sash wearing-sick looking mexican and his pal Wild Eyes Willie back in the ally! Morgan, my kung fu sense tells me there's a s#@@-storm a'brewing!'

"There was a Mexican?"

Eddy--your keen British senses don't only notice the gentlemen, but you notice a couple other things as well. The crimson-shirted one coughs and adjusts his scarf as you pass, for a brief moment revealing what looks like a gruesome wound near his Adam's apple. At the same time, a slight gust of wind carries a scent to your canny nose. Although it's impossible to tell if it's one or both of them, at least one of these gents reeks of cheap whiskey. Also, they're both white, although tanned... Although I could see Eddy assuming.
Morgan's Notice: 1d8 ⇒ 1

"Huh?" Morgan looks up from racking the balls and cocks his head to the side. "What are you talkin' about, mister?" At Eddy's comment of 'wild eyes,' though, he lets out an "Ahh" of understanding and nods. "Johnny Ringo, eh? Probably with Curly Bill. They were watching us, huh?" He sets a cue on the ground and ponders for a moment, then shrugs and places the cue ball on the table. "Well, they can look all they want. Johnny's had some spats with Doc, and Curly Bill's the one shot Fred White last year, but that was an accident and other than that they haven't caused much trouble. Almost don't hate 'em, they're so civil." Morgan's voice is a mix of sarcastic and serious, and he breaks into a smile a moment later. "Those two aren't gonna cause trouble with us, not here and now. Probably just keeping an eye out for their buddies."

"Wonderful," Claire mutters as she picks a pool cue and absently chalks the end. "More Cowboys. Maybe they won't cause trouble now, but how much ya' wanna bet that those chancers cause a whole heap o' trouble if their buddies get thrown in prison?"

"Elementary, my dear Morgan. But during my service in the Royal Army I learned quite a few facts and truths" Eddy continues talking while he places the pool balls. "For example, it's undeniable that giveng enough time under the kind but unforgiving sun, even the most white skinned and blue blooded limey ends tanning. And both of them appeared white as chalk."

"And the wound one of them had covered by his scarf was quite odd. You see, chaps, some wounds tend to leave scars when they heal. This wound was one of those you don't heal because you are dead."

Eddy continues walking, from time to time adjusting his bowler hat and adopting a thinking pose.

"Finally there was the smell. My noise caught a strong stench of alcohol, the like you find in the cheap whiskey you americans like so much... or in the formol used to presetve corpses."

"Given all evidence the only logical conclusion would be that they are reawakened corpses. Zombies if you will. That or they are a pair of albino alcoholics."

"More undead? I hope they don't pop as easily as the last bunch of rotters!" Biff says, seemingly pleased by his pun.

Claire sighs and rubs her temple. "I apologize for the Brits. I'm fairly certain they've both taken a few too many blows to the head, but I'm not a doctor." Even if the two Cowboys were undead, which she doubted, just yelling about it in public was a terrible idea.

Notice: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

listening to the british men Askuwheteau nods in agreement, "It would make sense for an outlaw to be among the walking dead they would have the intense negative emotions that would lead to them being unwilling to leave this plain. My people have many such stories."

Claire sighs and rubs her temple. "I apologize for the Brits. I'm fairly certain they've both taken a few too many blows to the head, but I'm not a doctor." Even if the two Cowboys were undead, which she doubted, just yelling about it in public was a terrible idea.

"You can never take too many hits to the head! That would be like saying you can do too many squat thrusts! Each resounding thud strengthens the skull, turning it into a deadly weapon!"

"Biff, I'm... actually, I'm positively certain that isn't how that works. I'm no doctor, but I'm fairly certain that can't be good for your brain." Samuel says, picking up a cue for the game of pool. "My father was always better at this than me, but I'd say I'm a fair shot. As for those two fellows in the alleyway, I doubt they mean to start anything now. But I doubt they're very happy with us, after all that business with Clanton. Watching us, deciding on their next move, I'd bet."

Notice: 1d6 ⇒ 4
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Morgan only grins as Eddy espouses his theories on undeath and the facts which lead him to consider the case; were a certain British author present, it would explain the nature of the stories he would come to write a few years later. As it is, the group falls to discussing the matter and trying to make sense of it all.

"I'm the first to say that Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo are bastards the Devil himself would throw out," Morgan chuckles, "but I highly doubt they're 'walkin' dead,' and given your options, I'd put my money on albino alcoholics. That and opium addicts." He shakes his head. "The only coming back from the dead that Curly Bill done is when the Epitaph said Jim Wallace killed him, but that was just a paper mixup. Curly Bill's the one killed Jim, and then just hid out for a while. Probably cut himself shaving or had a narrow scrape is all." The Earp grins at Eddy and Biff. "You fellas have just been reading too many scary stories from across the pond. I read Frankenstein once, and it's some frightful stuff, sure, but it's all just make-believe."

The billiards game begins as the conversation winds down, although the mood becomes more somber as time passes, especially once Wyatt and Virgil return. The older lawmen each get a whiskey and a cigar and set in to wait for more developments.

The next of these comes a little later on in the afternoon, when Sheriff Behan pushes his way through the doors, cane in hand and looking rather anxious. "Excuse me, Marshal, but I wanted to make you aware that a rather sizable gang of Cowboys is gathering down by the O.K. Corral. I've just been down to disarm them."

"So where're their guns?" Virgil asks, even before turning around. Upon seeing Behan's sheepish look, he glances to Wyatt and Morgan and sets his glass down. "That's what I figured. Probably asked 'em too nicely." He grabs his coat and begins putting it back on.

"Now, now Marshal," Behan stammers, "we have to be careful about how we handle this. The Cowboys are well-liked by the ranchers, and they work for Bayou Vermilion. You know the kind of pull the Baron has in town, in the county! You've seen what the Cowboys get away with--" The man cuts short as Virgil draws his pistol and checks the cylinder. "For God's sake, Virgil listen to me--they'll kill you in the street!"

"They might, and they might have pull, but the law's the law, and Tombstone don't belong to the Baron." Virgil clicks the cylinder back into place and slides his revolver back into its holster, and when he looks up, there's a blazing fire in his eyes. "It's about time everybody realized that."

Behan opens his mouth in protest, but he has no more words. Virgil turns to the bartender. "Give me the coach gun under the bar, Ned. Might be a little extra firepower can help us out. Get those folks their guns, too," he says, nodding to our posse. "Deputies, load up. I fully expect a fight upon us."

"Narrow scrape huh? Sounds about right." She scowls again, but keeps her thoughts to herself. "I swear to all that is holy, if that f*cker is actually undead, I'm gonna reduce his head to a bloody pulp."

Claire groans as the sheriff arrives. "He always this... helpful?" she asks as she grabs her gatling pistol from the bartender. A low sigh escapes her lips. "I knew today was going to be trouble. I could feel it." She checks the automatic weapon, spinning the barrels and checking the chamber to make sure it's fully loaded. "Let's get this done."

Biff lifts up and checks to make sure his guns are in working order, then kisses each one lightly.

"Good to go!"

Samuel takes his Winchester in hand, but soon slings it over his shoulder as he pulls the more intricate deck of cards from his vest pocket and shuffles them together. "Virgil, are you certain there's no other way we could handle this? I know these men are dangerous, but perhaps I could talk to them..." Samuel shrugs, gesturing to the cards in his hand."I'm not unskilled with words, and if they're being paid... well, it might be I could offer them more."

Sheriff Behan shoots Claire an annoyed glare, and Virgil shakes his head, frowning, at Samuel's suggestion. "One or two of 'em, earlier on, I'd have said yes, but in a pack at this point?" The lawman grunts. "They're too roostered up to step down from just words, I think. We'll head down and order 'em to throw their guns down and their hands up, but we'll be doin' it ready to draw. They're piss drunk, piss mad, or both. Even if we surprise 'em with numbers, they mightn't back down. Just remember--whatever happens, we draw second."

"I've had enough of this," Behan says, approaching the bar. "This foolhardy crusade of yours, Marshal. What you do now is on your hands."

"Good." Virgil makes for the door, but it's pushed open instead by a familiar pale face--Doc Holliday. He takes one look at the armaments present and clicks his tongue. "Now, boys, you weren't thinking of goin' down to have a chat with our friends without me, were you?"

"Doc, you don't need to get mixed up in this." Wyatt stands and walks over to the man. "It isn't your problem."

The gambler only fixes the West's most legendary lawman with a cold stare. "Wyatt Earp. That is a hell of a thing for you to say to me." He shakes his head and goes to the bar, where Ned pulls a pair of fine pistols out and hands them over. Wyatt and Virgil exchange a glance, and seem to come to an unspoken agreement. When Doc turns back around, revolvers in place, Virgil hands him the shotgun.

"Here, they might be less nervy with you on the street howitzer."

With all present and ready to go, the posse, the Earps, and Holliday step out into the street. Now the town is silent again, and not a single soul can be seen outside, although several nervous faces sit behind windows. Virgil spits on the ground and looks to our heroes. "Ready?"

Eddy pumps his shotgun and gives an heroic smile "Ready AND Steady. I just hope they are accompqnied by a duo of mexican brawlers to test our mettle against in a tag team battle, wouldn't it be jolly, Buff?"

Askuwheteau grabs his bow and arrows from the barman and follows the rest of the party silently, he is not particularly looking forward to this fight and has little stock in it other then the fact that the few people that have bothered to be helpful to him are fighting. hopefully at some point in this little adventure he's able to get the information he has been looking for. at the marshals question Ash sighs and questions, "are we just planning on riding up to them or do we have some sort of plan beyond shoot them if they don't come quietly?"

Eddy pumps his shotgun and gives an heroic smile "Ready AND Steady. I just hope they are accompqnied by a duo of mexican brawlers to test our mettle against in a tag team battle, wouldn't it be jolly, Buff?"

"A splendid idea Eddy! I've heard the Mexican style of brawling is both flamboyant and powerful, like real men's combat should be!"

Claire twirls her gun and slides it into her coat before checking her revolver. "More than ready. We may draw second, but if they start shootin', my gun isn't goin' away 'til they're all down or runnin' with their tails between their legs." She smiles. "Let's clean house."

Virgil shakes his head at Ash's question. "They don't come quiet, it's cause there's a shootout. And that's a fair way to about it, miss." With a final nod, and Doc checking the shotgun and slamming it shut, the walk to the corral begins. No resistance is met as the party approaches their destination, and the walk through the streets is eerie silent, other than a thin breeze and the jingle of metal and stamp of feet.

Advancing down Fremont Street, you can see ahead to the gathering of Cowboys in the lot beside Fly's Photography Studio, where you could immortalize yourself on print for only two dollars. Seems the opposite is bound to happen to some folks today, though--a whole herd of Cowboys is present, near three dozen of them. Among them are a few familiar faces, including a sour-looking Ike Clanton, his young brother Billy, and the McLaury brothers, Tom having a bit of bandaging wrapped around his noggin. All but the British boys can see that most of the Cowboys have revolvers tucked in their belts, and a few have rifles in boots on their horses nearby. Only Sam's keen eyes pick out that Ike and Tom remain unarmed from earlier events--looks like their friends got them free, but not their guns.

The Earps and Holliday step out into plain sight of the Cowboys. The Earp brothers throw back their coats, revealing their guns for easy drawing, and Doc raises the shotgun, not quite pointing it at the gang. Virgil is the only one to speak, calling out, "Throw up your hands! I want those guns!"

In the moment of silence that follows, tension fills the air. The Cowboys seem on edge, ready to draw but reluctant to do so. Then, Doc clucks his tongue, several Cowboys widen their eyes and start reaching for guns, and Wyatt mutters "Oh my God" as he draws and fires.

Going to post actions in a second post since this one is getting long; I'll also be rolling the extras' actions off-site because there's a lot of them and I don't want to clog posts with that much rolling. For now I'll run Cornelius as an NPC with the party, but at some point he'll head off on his own. The initiative for Round 1 is as follows:
Wyatt, Extra Cowboys, Cornelius, Virgil, Doc, Claire, Ash, Wild Card Cowboys, Sam, Morgan, Eddy, Biff.

Something I forgot to note above: any or all of you can still be in cover if you so desire. The Earps and Doc stepped out clear, but if you guys prefer the safe route, they don't blame you.

Wyatt draws his Buntline special, a particularly long and finely-made revolver, with uncanny speed, and puts a bullet straight into one of the Cowboys reaching for his gun, sending the man dead to the ground. At the same time, a blaze of gunfire lights up, as the various gathered Cowboys shoot back. Many of them draw too quick, and end up shooting the ground or high above their targets; one unfortunate even blasts himself in the foot, and falls to the ground screaming and clutching his wound. Only a few seem to get even close to on target, and each of the legends before you takes a grazing shot but Wyatt. Morgan hisses at the pain, and Doc frowns and clicks his tongue, but Virgil only continues to draw, not even blinking at the close call.

Cornelius is the next to fire, taking aim at another of the Cowboys who just shot. Opening up with the grapeshot that gave the LeMat its name and fame, he blasts a hole in another of the gang members, sending him sprawling to the ground. He then ducks for cover behind a crate.

Virgil is next up, drawing his Colt with practiced ease. He holds down the trigger and slams his palm against the hammer, blazing out six shots in the time most men can take one. In the crowd of Cowboys, it's hard not to miss with such a flurry of bullets, and two go down, while another clutches at his arm. Doc, meanwhile, takes a shot at Tom McLaury, who's going for a rifle. Although Tom doesn't go down entirely, the shot slams into his abdomen, and his whole stomach is soaked red in a moment as he gasps for air.

Claire and Askuwheteau are up! Others can post actions as well if you like; the Wild Card Cowboys are going to focus on the Earps and Holliday, so your actions will likely go undisrupted.

Claire goes straight for her gatling pistol. The weapon whirs and two shots ring out as she unloads straight at the gathered Cowboys. Her first shot is dead on, but the recoil catches her off-guard and the second shot goes wide.

Tell me, Marshall, if there were a foolish enough man to run up to a gang of armed bandits... would he be close enough to do so this round and pimp slap Ike for a second time today?