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

Game Master Loup Blanc

Eddy recoils from the vicious assault, having his strength almost sapped almost scared him...

The death of the creature is swift and brutal. The posse bombards it from all sides, with only Askuwheteau deciding it wisest to stand back while the others attack. Between fists, bullets, and magic, the beast is torn limb from limb, and as the echoes of gunshots and punches ring in the ears of the passengers, a pile of gore and chitin is all that remains on the floor of the cave.

Partly since there's been such a delay on this--for which I am sorry, I was busier the last couple days than expected--I'll skip you all back to the train and the ride to Tombstone, since there isn't really any more to do here.

When the group returns to the train, triumphant if somewhat battered and tired, several passengers give up a cheer. Harold breaks open a bottle of champagne to celebrate--offering harder drinks for those who want them as well--and Private Chasen calls out for several cheers and tries to lead those present in a rousing rendition of "God Save the South." Laura Giles only gives a smile to the group and a small nod to Claire. Denise Merritt pesters any and all who might be willing to share with her information on just what happened out there.

After finishing up the rendezvous and short celebration, the passengers all gather up their belongings and start loading the horses. Women, children, and wounded are given priority to ride, but given a dozen horses and twenty travelers, it isn't difficult to double up here and there and get everyone on the move. It's a fair walk and ride to Tombstone, but as the party sets out, it seems the danger is behind them.

Another 3 XP to you all, bringing you to 5 total and your first Advance! This is also a completed adventure/scene/thing, so you all get your Bennies back. Feel free to RP anything you do after the beast is dead, back at the train setting out, that sort of thing. You can also do Interludes on the way to Tombstone if you like for an extra Benny. Subjects are below in a spoiler. I'll move us on probably later today or tomorrow, depending on how many people post Interludes; they don't have to be long or complex, and if we move on before you post one you can just toss it in when you check in.

Riding along with the people to town, Cornelius smiles.

"Man, that was intense. More intense than trainin', that's fer damn sure, an' the last time I had a moment I was riskin' my life was when someone called my sister the town horse, on account of sayin' everyone had ridden' her. Well, I up n' clocked that son of a b**** out with one swing, like on of these Brit boys, but man alive, what I done forgot was we happened to have been in a societal party, on account of my Ma and Pa trying to move up through Atlanta's social ranks, being well off due to their stores, but not actual debutantes, you get me?"

"Well, he challenged me to a duel when he came to, and this was before I had joined the military, so this fool think she is gonna shoot me right dead for learnin' him some respect about my sister. Well, that foppish little bastard had a fancy dueling pistol in a box, and he thinks I'm just some hick, but what he don't know is I been poppin' rats in the shop basements with daddy's old military pistol from the 1812 War since I was four! Man, you wanna talk about surprise when I shot that damn fool right through the hand. It was hilarious! By my rights, I was legally allowed to shoot him dead, since he called the duel and all, but he starts beggin' and cryin' like a little girl, an' so I tell him if I spare him he owes me big. Fast forward about two years, and wouldn't you believe I have a letter of recommendation to West Point when my parents' money ain't enough to get me in the door, signed by the parents of a boy who now himself writes with his off hand."

As they make their way across the desert, Claire falls back near Laura Giles. "You really should be more careful," she says casually. "Whatever that thing was, it could have causes some real trouble if we hadn't been around." She sighs. "Your friends are usually more careful than that." She says nothing for a minute, keeping her horse riding parallel with Laura's. "I don't suppose you've ever heard of a man named Seamus Callahan. You see, my father had a black duster. He kept it nice and hidden in the back of his closet so no one would realize what he was involved in. I didn't actually find out about it 'til much later." She breaks off and takes a small sip from her canteen.

"After he died actually," she continued. "I'm not really sure if it was related to his job or not, but I have suspicions. It wasn't just some outlaw that shot him. It was someone who had a reason to want pa dead. And I can't think of many reasons for someone to want him dead more than that one. So pardon me if I seem forward, but I don't have much chance to talk with someone like you. I still know jack and s+@+ about what happened. All I know was that he was workin' on something big out here when someone who wasn't happy about it caught up with him." She pats her revolver. "But when I do find out... I have something to settle with the man who took my family."

As the group comes to a stop at the end of the first day of traveling Askuwheteau approaches the rest of the party and starts a conversation for possibly the first time since any of them had known him though he seems quite hesitant about it. "I, I have a request to make of you all. The reason that I left my home to come out here in the first place was to find a man who attacked my family many years ago. I don't know very much about him as I wasn't old enough to remember any of it at the time, the only information that I have on the man is that his name was John Wesly Harden and he was in Texas near the southern edge of the Coyote Confederation around twenty years ago. I don't know where he might be now or even what he looks like, but I need to find him..." Askuwheteau pauses as he stares into the fire seeing something that has to be miles, or ages away then mutters softly, "For my sake as much as my mothers." After a few moments Askuwheteau breaks out of his reverence to look back at the party. "Anyway if you happen to know anything about the man please let me know."

Eddy listens to Corn's story with interest and laughs hearthily "Oh boy, that poor fella got himself served. Now that you've talked about duels I miss kangaroos even more..." he says, looking at the horizon "You see, when I was at the army we got a military leave once during a Circus visit in London. An authentic australian Circus, you see."

"There was this fine redhead lady, Molly she was called. Gentlemen, irish women are one of the finest that exist. The thing is I fancied her, and she couldn't resist to my charms and muscles, so I brought her to that circus. There was an acrobatics show with kangaroos, and they asked for a volunteer. A minute later Molly was down there, being attacked by one o' those vicious beasts."

"So I did what any sane british gentleman would have, and challenged the alpha male and his trainer to a duel. I challenged them both because the animal wasn't fully responsible, but it still deserved a proper punishment."

"So there we were, a dingo-chaser, a kangaroo and me. Shirtless, greased and fully loaded. There's no need to say they both apologized before going to a physician. Good times... good times... and Molly was great."

"Damn. Wish I'd been around for that." Biff says, and shakes his head sadly.

"You know, I've only ever really wanted one thing: A challenge. Me and Eddy, we were always scrapers. And thumpin' good ones! But that was the problem. None of the boys could stand up to us!"

"So we joined the army, thinking 'Oh, there will be hardened soldiers to fight! With guns and knives and all!'...but we just punched them as easily as the boys back home. I didn't even learn how to shoot a rifle! Just thumped them with my fists!"

Biff seems positively incensed at this point.

"And now we come here to the temporarily independent States, looking for adventure, and what do we find? Infernal demon spawn bug creatures. INFERNAL DEMON SPAWN BUG CREATURES THAT GO DOWN AS EASILY AS EVERYTHING ELSE!"

"All I wanted was a good fight with a supernatural horror." Biff sobs, sounding uncharacteristically small, and wipes away a single manly tear.

Eddy taps his friend in the back while chanting "There, there Eddy. We'll find it, and you will punch it to your heart's content."

"You two could always fight each other. I mean, which of you is the stronger, more manly of the two?"

Cornelius's grin is absolutely massive. This will be great.

Damnit people, this is an excellent gauntlet thrown in the sand. Respond accordingly. He just asked two Alpha males who was the Beta between the two of them. We should see sparks fly!

Haven't had time for a proper post for this/forgot it. Thought l I don't see Biff and Eddy duking it out. Their bronance transcends duch petty squabbles.

So.... You are saying that your character is the beta then? :-3

I hadn't have the time neither. But the response will be on the lines of "We both are the alpha, but we aren't fighting because that would be the omega. For all of you. Because nuclear explosions from fistbumps"

Eddy looks smugly at Corny and laughs, his hands over his belly "HAHAHAHAHA! I see what you did there, my good friend. But that won't take you very far. See, each of us is stronger than the other. And manlier. As our siphu, the Baron, told us "You two british rads are like the ying-yang! Each one is a part of the other, and the stronger one gets, the other forrows. You are the water that frows thru the rand, the whirpoor that sprits the stone."" mimics Ed with a half italian-quarter japanese-quarter chinese-sixteenth navajo voice

Biff nods sagely.

"It's true, always been that way. I put Eddie in a chokehold, he squirms out of it and I end up in a leglock, and before you know it we've countered each other a dozen times with no headway!"

"Sensei even taught us some humdinger techniques, and they're basically polar opposites of the other too! Wish we'd fought something strong enough that we needed them."

Alright, at this point everyone but Samuel has received an extra Benny for their Interludes. Sam, you can still post one as long as you get it up soonish.

The rest of the walk to Tombstone passes uneventfully, other than the suggested combat between the Brits. Some of the conversation that passes does lead to some interesting tangents, though.

I'll let this here for now in case people want to respond or anything, but expect that this evening we'll move to Chapter 2 and arrive at Tombstone.

As they sit around the campfire, Claire slowly nods her head. "Ash, I think I know who you're talkin' about. He's a bonafide blackguard of the highest order. John Wesley Hardin is the meanest son of a b*tch to stalk the plains of Texas in the last twenty years. Killed a f*cking hell of a lot of people and gotten a bounty bigger than entire bands of outlaws all on his own. You've got quite the task ahead of you if you want him dead."

Common Knowledge: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (7) - 2 = 5
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (5) - 2 = 3

- -CHAPTER TWO: TOMBSTONE, ARIZONA- -

So there they were, staggering down the tracks. Just enough water and food to reach the city. And reach it they did, youngsters. But maybe if they knew what was to come, they would have preferred to just die there in the desert...

We rejoin our heroes as they come to the city of Tombstone. The survivors of the crash are all still alive, and although perhaps a little ragged and fatigued, they are for the most part none the worse for wear. It is the last leg of the trip, as the tracks head up a steeper incline, that is the most wearing, but they slowly approach the city by foot and by horse.

As they reach the top of the incline and see Tombstone before them, a few of the locals catch sight of the group and wave. One of them bounds off, and by the time the passengers have reached the station itself a couple of minutes later, they are met by a well-dressed man with a moustache, wearing a suit and bowler hat. A star badge is pinned to his lapel, reading COCHISE COUNTY SHERIFF.

"You must be the passengers from the Sand Streamer, yes?" He thumps his walking cane on the wooden platform and grins. "We were wondering what happened when the train didn't arrive. I'm glad to see you're all alive and well. Welcome to Tombstone, Arizona. I'm Johnny Behan, Sheriff of Cochise County. Tell me, do you have a place to stay yet?"

Cornelius strolls up and shakes the sheriff's hand. "Lieutenant Dickerson, private Chasen behind me. Good to see some law to meet these fine brave civilians in town. I don't know about the others, but I have not a place to rest my head yet. I also could use the location of the telegraph office, if'n you could point the way, friend."

Claire tips her hat to the sheriff. Always pays to be civil with the law after all. "Claire Callahan," she introduces herself. "I'm afraid that I don't have a lot of plans yet. I'm looking for someone who's quite the gambler and I've been told the Oriental is the place to start. I don't know if they have rooms or not though."

Still mulling over what Claire told him of his father he barely registers the sheriff as he walks up though as Cornealius responds he finally looks up. "You can call me Ash, and no I don't currently have a place to stay."

Behan smiles widely as he shakes Cornelius's hand. "Glad to meet you, Lieutenant. I may be county law, but I do try to keep my eyes on affairs here in town as I can." He swings his cane to point at the rail office. "I believe there's a telegraph in the station, certain they'd be happy to send off a message--for a nominal fee, of course. As for a place to stay, might I suggest the Grand Hotel? It's our finest establishment in town, with state-of-the-art facilities and feather-down beds."

The sheriff turns to Claire and tips his hat to her, as well. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Callahan. The Oriental, eh? It's a fine enough establishment, although I'm partial to the Crystal Palace myself..."

"The Oriental'll do fine, Behan." A deep, stern voice interrupts the sheriff, and its owner steps into view a moment later. A tall, thin, and sober-looking man in a black coat and hat steps up, presumably having arrived from around the corner and in town. His eyes take in each of the passengers, his expression serious but undiscernible under a thick mustache. This man also wears a star badge--TOWN MARSHAL--and a revolver rests in a holster on his hip.

"Ah, Mister Earp." Behan's face is sour for a moment, but he steps aside and resumes his cheerful demeanor. "I was just welcoming these new arrivals into town, and--"

"I'm sure you were." The man cuts Behan off again and sets his hands on his waist. "Virgil Earp, Town Marshal. You all had best come with me, I'll take you to the Oriental. You can get settled in and check your guns there. Closest place to the station in any case, so you don't have much choice unless you want to go the long way around town."

Behan coughs. "Well, Marshal, if you have everything in hand here..." He tips his hat to the group once more and sets off. Virgil watches him for a few seconds, then turns back to you and gestures to follow him.

Common Knowledge: 1d8 ⇒ 3
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 3

"Marshall, I'm gladly follow the law to the letter, but I question if it allows an exception to open carry for an officer of the military in good standing with the Confederacy? As I said, I will follow the letter of the law if such is not the case."

In case it's needed.
Persuasion: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Ace: 1d8 ⇒ 7 = TOTAL MFING 17!!!
Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Claire raises an eyebrow as the tall man approaches them. It takes her only a moment to recognize him. "Good to meet you marshal. I've heard some good things about you while I was traveling in the Disputed Territories." She glances down at her revolver, then sighs. Making one of the Earps upset probably would be a poor career move and she needs to get into town anyway. "Well, I was heading to the Oriental anyway... I suppose an escort from the town marshal can't hurt." She certainly doesn't miss the open animosity between the two lawmen though. "Jurisdiction issues? Or just don't like each other?" she absently wonders as they head out to the saloon.

Virgil Earp regards Cornelius and slowly shakes his head. "Sorry, son, but no exceptions for anyone but town law. Keeps anyone from getting antsy, whether the man with the gun or the man who sees it. Although," he rubs his jaw and nods thoughtfully, "if there were such an officer in good standing, and he were an honorable sort, I might be inclined to approach him for deputizing should the need arise. In which case, yes, he would be allowed to carry."

He turns to Claire and nods. "I may not have made too large a name for myself, but it's always pleasant to hear that people still care. As for an escort, that's just my business and pleasure. The ordinance does allow for getting into and out of town to check and retrieve your weapons, but I wanted to check on you folks after I heard you were in town. What exactly did happen out there with the train? I'm guessing it broke down, seeing as you're walking."

Cornelius, if you're still interested in sending the telegraph now, you can easily do so, and then find the Oriental shortly thereafter.

"Sir, you forgive my language when I say this, but you can bet your g@!!@%n ass I would be up for such a thing, provided there were no contradiction or conflict with any military orders I have. In fact, perhaps as local law of this land you can help me with such orders, and I can think of no man safer to talk to than the law. I'm looking for a man last seen round these parts...Hank Ketchum, Texas Ranger."B

"People have a tendency to talk about the Earps brothers. You and Wyatt have made quite the splash." She sighs. "Broken down? More like attacked. You ever heard of a gang that wears red sashes? I think someone mentioned a name, but I can't recall. About a dozen o' those chancers blew a bridge and tried to rob us."

Virgil raises his eyebrows at Cornelius's comment and raises a finger to point at him. "I'll definitely keep it in mind, and you and I should have a chat about that once we get to the Oriental. I've been wondering when they might send someone to investigate, seeing as I'm caught up with business in town, and Behan... well, I guess you could say the same of him." The marshal spits on the ground and kicks some dirt over it. "Best we get going, unless there's anything you need to do here."

As the group starts walking, Virgil's brow furrows and he looks at Claire. "Red sashes? You sure about that? Damn it all." He shakes his head and spits again. "I don't suppose you have any of those sashes, do you?"

"No I don't believe we ever did. Do you know who they were?"

Cornelius heads out to send the telegraph back to Virginia of his progress thus far. He comments that he took a minor liberty to hire a friend as a valet, Chasen, and of the assault during the arrival, and how they put down some local bandits, and the monster in the cave.

Yes, GM, this is me blatantly attempting to get the bonus for "Committing an act of conspicuous bravery witnessed by others" in and and hopefully get a promotion per the military rules in the Deadlands rules book by the soldier edge.

After the message is sent, he pays the fee (how much?) and meets the others at The Oriental.

"I don't believe that we took any of their sashes. We took their supplies to get us back to town, but not their clothes. With my luck, I'm bettin' we missed out on a bounty or somethin' like that."

"Deputies? Can I be a deputy too?" Biff asks, excited.

"That means I'd get to punch anyone I want, right?"

Cornelius is able to send off a somewhat punctual telegraph that still captures the essence of what he's done thus far. The standard fee is charged, and the message runs him a dollar and a half, but his superiors back East are sure to find out about some of his exploits within a short while.

On the streets of Tombstone, Virgil shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. "Red sashes are the sign of the Cowboy gang. Biggest bunch of rustlers, robbers, and general no-goods in the territory. Lotta folks would tell you they run the county and the town, and until me and mine got here, I guess they'd have been right. No bounty, but it's been Hell trying to bring them up on any charges, even with witnesses. Sashes could have been hard evidence that they robbed the train. Without it..." He pulls off his hat and beats at the dust on his coat. "Gonna have to hope they keep going hot-headed and get themselves in trouble."

Most of the other passengers split off from the main group as they begin making their way through Tombstone, some heading for other places in town, some just looking for a refreshment to pass the time until the next train or coach will take them to their destinations. The Squatpump brothers give their regards and set for the edge of the city, where camps have been set up by traders, hunters, and panners. By the time our party reaches the Oriental Saloon, none of the other passengers from the train are with them.

Outside, Virgil pauses to regard Biff. "Son, I'm not sure you quite understand the idea of a deputy. There's a little more to it than that." He pauses again and then gives a short chuckle. "I guess Wyatt would say it means you get to punch anyone who deserves it. In a way I guess that's the truth."

"I could settle for that." Biff says, happily.

"Sounds like they cause all kinds of trouble. But if they've been givin' everyone trouble, why can't you arrest 'em? Surely if they're that well known, there must be plenty of cause to jail 'em." Claire starts to get a bad feeling that either these Cowboys are bigger fish than she realized or that there's something rotten in the town of Tombstone.

"Or at least thump 'em until they learn better!"

Son, I'm not sure you quite understand the idea of a deputy. There's a little more to it than that." He pauses again and then gives a short chuckle. "I guess Wyatt would say it means you get to punch anyone who deserves it. In a way I guess that's the truth."

Eddy jumps and claps in excitement "Me want too! Me want too! And sir, would we get to wear one o' those fancy stars? his mind drifts away mid sentence, already picturing themselves as sheriffs "Stop in the name of law! *Punch**Paw**Bang* I'll catch you, Johnny nine fingers, I'll catch you indeed! *pew**clap**krakk*"

The stare Cornelius gives the Brits is deadpan and long. He looks then at the Marshall. He sighs, as if the next words pain him to admit. "These men are valorous in character and upstanding citizens, if a bit...overzealous...Marshall. They were the first to volunteer to assault the cowboy gang without recompense, and...They ain't so much about enforcing the law as punishing the wicked, but ten holy hells squeezed in a five hell bag, do they like to punish the wicked. My other company here seems for defending the weak as well."

Virgil frowns at Claire's questions, and shakes his head. "That they're well known is the problem. They make trouble all the time, rustling cattle and robbing travelers, but they're well-known and supported. A lot of the rural folk, farmhands and the like, they see the Cowboys as standing up for the frontier man in the face of big business." He spits on the ground. "You ask me, that's calling a wooden nickel a dollar coin, but it's the way things are. And we've found that without hard evidence, you can't stick a crime to a Cowboy."

He turns to Biff and Eddy, watching their antics with a stern gaze, but as Cornelius catches up to the group and says his piece on the British boys, he seems to relax a little. "Stood up to the gang, huh? Well, that's better'n most folks would do around here. They either support the bastards or just live in fear of 'em. About time some more people showed up willing to make a difference. It'll be nice to have someone to back us up who isn't two bottles deep by noon."

"Lovely," Claire mutters. "So you have bandits with enough friends to keep them out of trouble while they cause more trouble for everyone. Bloody wonderful..."

Virgil nods as he pushes open the door to the Oriental, holding it for the posse to enter. "Just about. And speak of the devils..." The Marshal trails off and enters behind the party.

The interior of the Oriental Saloon is pleasant, combining a rustic frontier feel with more civilized touches from the cities back East. Unlike the still cool air outside, colder at this height and from a wind that blew in overnight in the autumn sky, the temperature inside is warm enough, if it's somewhat smoky and stale. Several patrons hunch over drinks or play poker in small groups; a large group is rowdily drinking around a couple of tables at one end, and toward the other, a clean-cut man with a large mustache runs the faro table, an assistant beside him. A pair of locals seem to be playing the game, and sitting nearby in the corner is a pale-looking man in fine clothing, nursing a glass.

"Check your weapons with Ned here," Virgil says, turning to the bartender. Ned in turn hands the marshal a tin cup, which Virgil knocks back before turning to the faro dealer. "They're back, Wyatt."

The dealer glances out the window by him, then at Virgil. "Who?"

"Ike Clanton. Tom McLaury." Virgil sniffs and sets the cup back on the bar. "Just saw 'em go by as I was coming in. Wager they're both heeled."

"Well," the pale man says. There's a gleam in his eye that combines mischief with danger. "I wager they're in for trouble from the Earp brothers, then." Despite the look of him, the man's voice is easy, a strong Georgia drawl.

The dealer excuses himself from the faro table and meets Virgil at the door as the assistant takes over. Together, the Earp brothers barge out into the streets of Tombstone, leaving the door swinging behind them--they move too fast to join them just now. Ned turns to the new arrivals and leans on the counter. "Checking your weapons, and looking for something to wet your throats?"

1d4 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + (3) = 4

Biff has never heard of Wyatt Earp, though it's doubtful he'd be impressed with a lawman who needed crutches like WEAPONRY to keep the peace anyway.

Claire looks around the room as they enter the Oriental. Having spent her entire life on the frontier, it seems a bit... ornate for her, but comfortable. She catches sight of the dealer and her eyes go wide. "Who would have thought..." she mutters. Wyatt Earp dealing cards. The most dangerous lawman in the West running a card table. The West was a strange place.

The sharp Georgian draw catches her attention and her head turns again. "There you are..." she mutters as the brothers converse. She files away the names 'Clanton' and 'McLaurey' away to ask about later if she has the chance, but she simply steps aside as the Earps head out.

"Seems like," she tells the bartender. She unbuckles her bowie knife and slaps it onto the table, followed by drawing out her gatling pistol and setting it beside it. She draws her silver revolver last and sets it on the counter. "If there is so much as a scratch on this one..." she growls. "Then there will be hell to pay."

With that, she leaves her weapons to the bartender and heads over to the faro table. She looks at the finely dressed man. "Doctor John Henry Holliday," she says bluntly.

Common Knowledge: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

"Wait just a goddern minute, holy crap, Claire, you are right! Wait, then that means the marshal is..."

He blinks, hops up and skee-daddles to the door, leaning a head out, and looks from one Earp brother to the other as they leave. He pulls off his uniform hat and wipes some sweat from his brow, and then pops it back on. Cornelius walks up, sits down at the bar, and checks in his LeMat, both of them, but assumes his military saber is fine until told otherwise. "Whiskey. Straight. Holy sheetbuckets, Claire, I got offered a deputization from one of the most legendary gunmen in the West, prolly brother of the most, and I thought he was a simple unknown lawman the whole time. Bartender, make that a double. That's about as heavy a ton of knowledge as a Clydesdale to drop on a man, I'll tell ya!"

When the whiskey is poured, he slings back a shot. "Well, I ain't got plans just yet until I hear back from Virginia, save for combing the town for info on my quarry. You folks?" He raises an eyebrow at the Brits, Ash, Claire, and Sam.

Sam remains quiet the remainder of the ride into Tombstone, mostly fiddling with his decks of cards; either shuffling them or playing a one-man card game by himself at night. Lost in thought, he walks with the rest of a group almost in a daze, until finally ending up at the Oriental. He doesn't register them asking for his guns for a moment, focused on the man sitting towards the back. 'Doc Holiday? This tournament just got a lot more interesting... I'll have to deal with the land before I get caught up in all this.' Shaking his head, he hands his rifle and derringer over to the bartender, then gives him a polite nod.

"In all truth, just a glass of water for me. I have a land deal I'll need to see to some time later today, and it's probably best I'm not drinking beforehand." He gestures with his head back towards the door as the Earp brothers leave. "Speaking of which, if I wasn't sober I'd think I was seeing things. Why of all people is Wyatt Earp dealing cards here in Tombstone?"

Common Knowledge: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Wild: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Holliday looks up to Claire and stands, setting his glass on the table before him. "Indeed, I am," he says, with a slight flourish to his words and a tip of his head. "I would ask to what I owe the pleasure, dear, but I fear your friends may be in some trouble, first." He nods over Claire's shoulder, and she turns to see the rising trouble.

That trouble comes shortly after folks have finished turning in their weapons and the bartender starts pouring. When Sam asks his question, Ned opens his mouth to answer, but he's interrupted by another voice.

"Why is that them Earps is a bunch o' no-good, high-toned, city-slick bastards!" The voice's owner is one of the boisterous hands drinking in a group. A somewhat younger man, he's risen up and staggered forward, pointing at Samuel. "Same as you, I'd bet, city boy! Takin' our guns is a load of horse sh*t!" He turns back to his friends. "Am I wrong?" The other hands laugh, but there is a slight edge to it--it seems he's given voice to a common sentiment.

"Now, Bixler," the bartender says, shaking his head. "No need for talk like that. Lower your voice and--"

"No, I will not 'lower my voice,' Ned!" The young man steps forward, emboldened by drink and company. "It's too much, all these G*+ d**n tinhorns comin' into town and makin' trouble for us hard-working folk." He walks up to Samuel and spits at his feet. "How about it, city boy?"

Bixler turns to Cornelius. "I bet you're a friend o' them bastards too, come in here talking about 'deputizing' like you're some kind o' law dog. You think you can waltz in and take us over?"

Claire turns on her heel and groans. "Boys... why are they always the ones gettin' themselves in trouble..." She rubs her temples with one hand. "I guess I'll have to ask you for a little chat later. I think we have somethings to talk about."

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

"I'm friends with them too!" Biff declares, cracking his knuckles. He does his best to loom over the drunk idiot.