Cornelius raises an eyebrow at Chasen. "I wrong you, or somethin', Mr. Chasen? I didn't think I knew you, only the way you won't square me in the eye, I like to think you done put a baby in my sister or somethin else guilt wise? Folks, I ain't sure we should leave this gentlemen alone, with a gun, with the passengers...unless there's something you rightly want to explain? If you're a Yank and ain't keen on my position, war's over and we're in neutral territory, and we got folks to take care of, so I ain't got time for that; let's get that clear. But if'n we got other dirty laundry let's air it out before it gets a powerful stink."
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Eddy's brawling-sense activates as someone in their almost immediate surroundings is about to start a fight... "Biff! I've sensed something, like a disturbance in the air... like if somebody was hiding a secret that could start a fight and just got caught. Fast, to the rest!"
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"I do believe you're right! I'm getting a tingle in all my fighting appendages!"
Harold only shakes his head at the British boys' antics with the horses, but Chasen stiffens as Cornelius speaks to him. After a few moments, he brings his eyes to look at Cornelius. "I... I'm sorry, Lieutenant. It's nothing like that. It's just..." He pauses, as though trying to steel himself, and he heaves a deep breath. "I'm a soldier for the C.S.A. myself. Or was. I'm AWOL right now, Lieutenant. I heard my sister was sick something bad out in Tucson, and with my mother dead from the flu last year, she's the only family I have left. I needed to go see her." He sighs and hangs his head. "I understand if you'll have to bring me up on charges, but that's all why I was avoiding you. Honest."
Cornelius stops, and thinks a minute.
"Your rank and number, Chase? Cause if'n you can prove what you say is true...then you ain't AWOL, but a close n' personal friend o' mine that I picked up for some special mission I'm on, as an assistant, on my way to Arizona, an I think my telegraph back to Virginia will say just that. Every officer could use a valet, an it wouldn't be a lie, on account of I always liked men who shoot people that shoot at me and make my meals, so then you'd be a friend, and this is technically on my way to Tombstone. And if we happen to visit your sister, well, every enlisted man in my command is allowed some leave, obviously, for morale, but it may have to wait until the mission brings us there...but we can telegraph her in the meantime."
= Total 9
"Private Richard H. Chasen, sir." Chasen snaps to attention for a moment, then reaches into a coat pocket. When he pulls his hand back out, he's holding a small fold of paper that, when opened, contains information regarding his date of birth, hometown, and unit--Infantry. The paper is common practice among Confederate soldiers, since machine-manufactured metal tags haven't been widely distributed yet.
"You'd do all that for me, sir?" Chasen's voice is almost disbelieving, but also hopeful. "That's, that's wonderful. Thank you, sir. You are a true gentleman and a fine officer. I'll do you proud, Lieutenant." He salutes again, briefly, and nods at the passengers. "Should I hup to getting them civilians organized and get a fire going, then?"
"You're one of those sneaky soldier types, aren't you?" Claire says as Cornealius plays the young man like a fiddle. "Still, that was a kind thing to do. Boy doesn't deserve to get hung for caring about his sister's well being." She walks over to one of the horses and pulls herself up with one clean move. She clearly knows the basics of riding. "Shall we get moving then? That baggage car's not going to bring itself back up here."
Biff tries to hide his disappointment that the reveal was not as juicy or offensive as he'd hoped.
"Come, Eddy! To the baggage car!"
Quietly, to Claire, he replies. "No, not hang. It isn't war time anymore, so I'd guess he'd do a long stint though, if whoever tried him cared about the circumstances. But then they may set an example, so he might have. Should've put in for a transfer to Texas or asked for a leave, but grief makes ya do stupid things. Still...Morale, Claire. Morale wins wars, my Captain used to say, more than guns or tactics or position or whatnot. An enemy that won't give up won't go down until you kill every last one of them...An now I've a valet who ain't quittin till he sees his sister, an I meant what I said, I aim to make that happen, along with what I told these folks."
He turns back to Chasen, "Right, and see that them boys what can shoot are with you. Use what you can of the train for shelter to put your backs to, keep any coyote...The animal or the Injun...from sneaking up on you. Any trouble, fire a round and we'll come running, if'n we can. Give a gun to any adult what can hold one. Try to hide that they're civilians or unskilled. War party ain't likely to spring a band that just Robbed a train, if you catch me, as they are innocent survivors. That may mean some dandies changing to the dead cowboy vlothes"
As the others talk Askuwheteau ties two horses together with a lead line and swings his way up onto the lead horse. "We should get going if we plan to be back before night," he calls to the rest of the group.
"Right you are you damn ghost walking stabbin' machine!"
He mounts up one of the horses.
"To answer your earlier question, yes, keep using the blade till we find you your...what, I imagine tomahawk, bow and arrow, spear...club? Hm...ghost walkin...primitive weaponry...ghost...of the past...Dickins? Naw, too close to m'own surname. I'll get you a proper civilized title yet, friend."
"I thought 'Ash' would be a proper moniker myself!"
Claire chuckles, but the sound is rather hollow. "Not at war. Never been to the disputed territories before, have you Lieutenant? The Union and the Confederacy are waiting for one or the other to blink so they can shove as many soldiers up the ars*hole of whoever makes the poor decision of lookin' the other way. This war's not gonna end any time soon."
She looks over at the Brit and the Native. How on Earth had they ended up with so many odd foreigners? "Ash sounds fine by me."
Askuwheteau pauses a beat then seems to test the name out "Ash. I have nothing against the name, It refers to both the tree and the remains of a fire yes? He turns back to Cornealius, "as for my weapon of choice I mainly use a spear and bow, I can however see the benefit of a more close range weapon like your saber."
Riding along the way to the train, Cornelius sighs. "I know, but officially...well, look, we just wanted our independence, do I'm still not right sure why we'd be lookin to March into Washington or whatnot. Out west, that's a different story. Anyway, I ain't a politician, I'm a soldier, and if they say go north, I'm a go north, but it seems a mite silly, seein' as how we were all gung ho about individual state rights to try and absorb more into us what ain't wanna join. If it were up to me, our eyes would be fixed on takin' the Maze and all the rock in there."
"I can't answer that anymore than you can lieutenant. Politicians I suppose. Or greed. That's why I stay well away from politics. None of their decisions make sense."
Chasen nods to Cornelius once more and heads back to the other passengers. As the posse, along with Laura Giles and Harold Buchanan, make ready to set out, they hear him calling for folks to gather together and start making a fire. It seems things are well in hand as the eight of them begin to make their way down the incline, following the tracks.
Something changes in the air, though, as the party approaches the car. Nothing they can put their fingers on or define clearly, not yet at least. But years from now, they'll look back on this as one of their earlier memories of the sensation. The voices of the other passengers on the wind die out about half way down the tracks; shortly thereafter, the wind itself dies as well. The horses' hooves become muffled by the sand where they once clapped along it, and their shadows become longer, darker. Everything's still, and quiet, like the sky before thunder.
The cars are still coupled to each other, although the steel must itself be twisted given the disjointed angle at which they sit. They've jumped the track and skidded along through the sand before crashing into a small rock embankment. The baggage car is still mostly upright, only slightly off-kilter in the sand; the caboose is pushed upwards in back on the rocks, and is angled sharply to the left. There's no visible movement, but the door of the baggage car is ajar, and even poking around outside might give some clues...
Samuel ignores the comment from Cornelius, a bemused look on his face. As they head down the incline, he stops when they reach the baggage car. "Looks like someone's been dragged off. I don't see any trace of who might have done it, though." He nods to Askuwheteau, while he rummages through the baggage car. "Anything I'm looking for in particular, or are we just bringing everything back up to what's left of the train?" As he waits for a response, he begins looking for his own belongings, especially his rifle.
Askuwheteau pulls up in front of the car door and takes a moment to examine the ground, nodding at Samuels assessment. "That's all I can see, I would like to find the tracks of whoever was dragging them but the tracks are not clear enough." After examining the tracks Askuwheteau also makes his way into the baggage car.
"Let's keep a sharp eye then," Claire says, dropping from her horse and drawing her Peacemaker. "If someone was already here, I'd bet on those bandits havin' a few dopes raiding the baggage while the rest of them went after the train." She moves carefully toward the door to the car and glances inside.
Cornelius dismounts and looks for a place to tie the reins of the horses these are, after all, new horses to them, and they don't know if the animals have a predilection to wander.
He draws the double barrel from the dead cowboys and nods to the tracks the others were mentioning.
"I can't make heads nor tails of it myself, but if you folks can follow it, I'll keep a keen eye out for trouble."
The inside of the baggage car looks about as you'd expect for a train car that got uncoupled and jumped the tracks. Most of the bags and boxes have toppled over or at least shifted, and there's a general sense of disarray. In the center of the car are the shattered remains of a large wooden crate, busted boards lying on the ground. A section lies face up with painted on letters reading PROPERTY OF. The posse moves in, accompanied by Laura--Harold remains outside on lookout--and begins gathering what they can.
Of course, things are rarely just as they seem, and Pinkerton types might be able to pick up on a few interesting elements of the scene as they poke around.
Seeing the car abandoned, Claire hesitantly climbs inside, taking a careful look around the car. "Sh*te. Looks like both of 'em met a nasty end here. There's way too much blood for only one of them to have bit it." She starts to paw through the baggage, looking for any sign of anything missing or moved. She comes to Seyberth's bag and is about to pass over it when she sees one of the pockets in his coat bulging oddly. She pops it open and her eyes go wide. "Jaysus! Is this... f*cking wanker." She draws out the pistol, turning it over in her hands. It feels much heavier than she'd ever imagined. "I think we've stepped in some serious shenanigans here."
Cornelius whistles at the Gatling pistol.
"Well, now that is a darling of a pistol. Considering your earlier shooting, Miss Claire, I reckon it would do well in your hands. I'm no poor shot myself, but I done saw you plug that horseman from the train like he was standing clear in front of you. Everyone else find their things? Ash, you get your bow an other primitive necessities? Mr. Gambler, your...I don't know, you pack up a roulette wheel or something? I know the Brits probably have a tea set somehow packed away here."
Sam reaches for the bag at the same time as Claire, but nods to her to search it. "A gatling pistol? That's some serious firepower... what was Seyberth doing with one of these? What use would he have for something like that?"
Claire keeps her mouth shut in front of the Confederate officer. "Aye. This thing can fire off its entire cylinder in under two seconds once it gets up to speed." She tucks it inside her coat and out of sight. "All my things are just extra clothes and a few other things in my suitcase. I think it's all still here."
She looks over at Sam. "For killing I would assume. This is a damned deadly shooting iron in the hands of someone who knows how to use it properly. Not many folks have that kinda training, but still..."
Askuwheteau is going to take a general look around first, then search the baggage, specifically for his weapons but also in general. After all that he'll take a closer look at the crate.
At entering the car the smell of blood overwhelms Askuwheteau's senses preventing from having a proper look around but is eventually able to focus in on the luggage long enough to find his bow, arrow, and spear . After that's done he finally takes a proper look at the crate. "Yes, thank you Cornealius, I am more interested in this crate however. It seems like it was broken from the inside, and judging from the marks on the wood I believe it was some kind of animal and it was not happy. I imagine it was the cause of all this blood.
Cornelius twists his moustache as he thinks.
"So...something dangerous was being transported. The man detached the car, presumably to keep it as a from people. The cowboys then conveniently show up. Probably a distraction. Hm...normally I'd say we should hunt this dangerous thing down to keep it from hurtin' more folks, but we got a crowd of people trapped in a desert to look over. I say we gather anything useful up and get back to the group. Safety in numbers. We get all back to town safely and then maybe come back and investigate, maybe track the beast? But for now getting civilians to safety is my priority."
Askuwheteau shakes his head at Cornealius's suggest. "I would normally agree with you however this animal, whatever it is, is obviously a meat eater and it will be hungry. It has also tasted human flesh, whatever this thing is it is a man-eater now and the group of 'civilians' is a perfect target. If this thing is at all decent at hunting it will begin to attempt to pick of the stragglers of our group and if we leave now it may follow us to town, attacking as we travel. It would be better to kill it now."
Claire hesitates for a moment, clearly considering the two options. "Ash has a point, but I have to agree with Cornealius. The civilians don't have enough supplies to stay out here longer than tonight and part of tomorrow. With the heat of the day, they'll die of thirst before long and there's no guarantee we can even find this thing tonight. We need to get them to safety now. The beast will either come after us and we can take care of it then or it will act like any animal and go to ground while it's afraid and confused, which will give us a chance to get the civilians well clear before coming back for its hide."
"Plus, if it follows us to town, we'll have their sheriff and deputies do help take it down. If we can inform the law there to be on the lookout, it should be helpful as well...after all, this happened before we made camp, so it could be in the way to town for all we know. Ash, you make a right good point about takin out a man eater, but for now we have a charge to watch. A tribe, if that makes it easier to understand, of elders and children, and folks what can't defend themselves. This animal, other wild animals, bandits, heat, cold, any number of things could end them prematurely."
"These are your people so I will follow your lead. However know that once an animal has a taste for humans it becomes more of a monster than the animal it was, it will continue to search for food and water and right now we are the best source of both. we should expect an attack at some point, possibly tonight."
"I'm sure we can handle it!" Biff exclaims, slinging his pack over his shoulder.
"Might be fun to wrestle a ferocious beast. One of the main downsides to coming here instead of the Dark Continent is I couldn't wrestle a tiger here!"
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Eddy seems silent during the whole trip only nodding at Biff's comments and following him
When they find the interior as the scene of a tale of horror he starts to react "You folks sure have curious ways to decorate wagons... Whatever or whomever did this, I agree with Ash -nice moniker Biff, as always- we shouldn't just let it be." he grabs his possessions and loads the shotgun "So let's hunt it for protection, fin and profit!"
Laura moves quickly to her own things, taking a few non-essentials out her bag before taking it up. She assists in searching the rest of the car as well, and the group is able to scrounge up a fair bit of equipment, along with noticing a few strange clues of what's taken place. All told, they recover their own weapons, plus a double-barreled shotgun with 12 rounds and a '73 Winchester rifle with a box of 20 cartridges, courtesy of the Squatpump brothers. There's also, miraculously enough, several unbroken jugs of water.
Still, though, searching takes time, as does gathering up what's been found and situating it on the horses. By the time the car is relieved of its useful cargo, it's nearing sunset.
As the group clambers back out of the baggage car, Laura Giles looks at the posse and shakes her head at some of the plans. "I don't believe hunting whatever it is tonight would be wise. Who knows what it is, and if it gets the drop on you in the dark--well, that would be dreadful."
"Not to mention the cold." Harold speaks up and gazes skyward, sniffing. "Reckon it might even snow, our luck."
"In any case, I think tonight we should just head back to the train and bunker down." Laura swings up onto one of the horses and takes up its reins. "Unless you want to take a look at the caboose?"
"She's got the gist of it. Although, we might as well make the search thorough. No reason to leave it unchecked, especially when this caper is getting strange." She ties off her own bag to her horse and leaves him with the rest of the group before approaching the caboose and carefully making her way to the door. She checks to see if it's locked or something of the sort, then opens it to look inside if she can.
Askuwheteau turns to Harold as the group prepares to head out, "I'm afraid that it is very unlikely for it to snow tonight, though the extra water would have been welcome. It is however getting close the new moon making travel tonight even less appealing." Noticing the ease that Miss Giles displays as she remounts her horse Askuwheteau can't help but comment. "Miss Giles you seem much more... composed then most white-women that I have met from you're eastern cities. I believe that most of them would have fainted at some point, your people seem to do that a lot."
"I wish I could say that's some injun propaganda, but I say, I have seen the vapors overcome my sister somethin fierce. Usually when she has some sort of responsibility to undertake, her children to look after, or her husband is feeling like making more. Faints like on cue, that girl."
The caboose door is busted open as well, and offers a few more clues. There are no bodies in here either, once again leaving only the remains behind to offer information. There's more blood in there, that's easy enough to see. But as always, keen eyes can Notice more...
Meanwhile, Laura Giles gives a small smile to the group and pats her horse's neck. "I may just be a gentleman's daughter from Virginia, but I do know a thing or two about horses, and I expected life out West to be hard. I'm sorry to hear that people have met their end, but we need to worry for ourselves, don't we?"
Although Miss Giles's words may be sweet and sensible enough, there's something not quite adding up about her story and demeanor. Of course, there's no real way to know why she might be hiding something.
Claire peaks through the door to the caboose and sighs. "More dead. Looks like the crew didn't have any more luck in here than Mr. Seyberth did in the baggage car. Shame."
She frowns at Laura's explanation. "Miss Giles, I was born in a small town on the border. By the time I was ten, I'd seen a Mexican battalion marchin' into town to claim territory, more bar fights than you can count, and one honest to God duel at high noon. And this still disturbs me. I don't care how much you expected it, seein' it is completely different."
"Waitaminute, do you folks see these marks, the shapes of these tracks?"
Cornelius interrupts the confrontation and starts pointing out the markings.
"These ain't human feet. These ain't animal I ever heard of, neither. Looks like...stilts? Now normally I'd think I'm seeing things, but a couple hours ago I saw a dandy kill a man with playing cards and a young woman with a regular shooting iron send shotgun slug sized blast through a man, so I would venture a guess that we may be dealing with something...otherwise."
= Total 10
"Wait, what now? Are you acting the maggot with me? How could someone make this mess while wearing stilts?"
"Someone could not, Something however could potentially."
Cornelius crosses his arms across his chest and throws Claire an 'Oh Really?' look.
"I said it looks like stilts. I also said I don't think it is. You explain that 12 gauge slug sized hole in the cowboy leader coming from your pistol and Sam here killing a man with small paper squares using natural means, and I'll be willing to sit back and think I am seeing things here."
"Or the dern earth shaking when the Brits punch a man?! My god, I FELT that uppercut he threw and I was thirty feet away shooting from behind a rock!"
"Peacemakers leave big holes," Claire replies calmly. "And I believe Miss Giles has yet to answer my question as well."
"Or the dern earth shaking when the Brits punch a man?! My god, I FELT that uppercut he threw and I was thirty feet away shooting from behind a rock!"
"Just the fruits of a strenuous workout my good man!"
"And some "Chee Gung" breathing I learned from an Italian man!"