Deputy Bluefeather looks at Ben oddly at his mentioning of Scalpin' Jack but then clears her throat.
"Um, Miss Buckaroo, if you please. I'd thank you kindly if you could describe to me why you think the folks here were poisoned."
The deputy's tone is polite, but heavily implies she isn't making a request.
Bukaru believes that the children showed symptoms of Belladonna poisoning. They grew weaker and weaker, suffered partial paralysis and vivid hallucinations. You had them induce vomiting but it was too late. The second child died last night.
A few weeks ago lots of folks had gotten sick, but most of them recovered. The little girl was one of the ones who got better. A couple days ago she got sick again, only more severely. And this time she died.
There are three other patients. One of them is a little boy. The other two are an elderly couple.
Bukaru hasn't been here long enough to be sure, but she gets the impression that the Sheriff is just mean to everyone on principal. Like J. Jonah Jameson if he were a 6 and half foot tall lawman.
***
Monty takes Doctor Loveless to a pen he has behind his shop where he keeps his chattel.
I know I don't have any "weight" in this town, but I would strongly suggest inducing vomiting in the others (if not already done), and would volunteer my services to tend to them. I would try Channel Energy and/or CLW (I strongly suspect that won't help, but she wouldn't know that), and do what I can to make them comfortable.
Will they let me do that?
I don't suppose I know of any herbal remedies to Belladonna?
Doc's gaze roams over the penned animals, immediately dismissing the full-sized horses and focusing on the ponies and miniatures.
"The appaloosa looks sturdy enough, though a bit larger than I'd... oh!" He goes quiet as he spots a strawberry roan grazing at the far corner of the enclosure.
"Now that is one beautiful animal," he says as he walks the fence line towards the pony.
As he nears the corner, Doc drops his bag to the ground and digs out his trail rations. Picking out some large chunks of dried fruit, he cautiously approaches.
"Well hello there," he says quietly as he offers his bribe. "Would you like to be my little pony?"
Should have thought to bring an apple...
I know I don't have any "weight" in this town, but I would strongly suggest inducing vomiting in the others (if not already done), and would volunteer my services to tend to them. I would try Channel Energy and/or CLW (I strongly suspect that won't help, but she wouldn't know that), and do what I can to make them comfortable.
Will they let me do that?
I don't suppose I know of any herbal remedies to Belladonna?
***
The roan snorts loudly at Doc's attempts to get closer. He backs off looking fearful.
"Pretty ain't she? Bit skittish though. I think the previous owner might have done a number on her. Here, try this."
With a trick of sleight of hand, Monty produces a carrot. He then tosses it over to the Doc.
To the deputy, with conviction : "They have all the signs of belladonna poisoning. Do you have a store that might sell antitoxins, or have an alchemist in town I might talk to?"
"Well, Monty's is the closest thing we have to a general store, now." The deputy then turns an eye on Ben.
"You said you had medicine? Well let's go talk to the Healer together."
As you walk in you see a bunch of sick people in beds all along the wall, they are mostly moaning. But a little boy is very quiet. Aside from the subtle movements of his chest, you wouldn't know he was alive at all.
You also spot a man emptying various coinage into a medicine bag. He looks like he's about to bolt.
The Healer looks up at the entourage walking in the door. He has a fine, greased, handlebar mustache, expensive-looking clothes and a top hat. He squeals in fright and turns to run.
Leland's Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Bukaru's Initiative): 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (20) + 0 = 20
Deputy Bluefeather: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Mallory's Initiative (potentially): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Ben's Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Healer's Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
That bas***d! Taking advantage of the sick! Boy if I didn't have a vow against harming others...
Casting Bless on all us good guys : +1 to attack rolls and on saving throws against fear effects.
Doc shakes his head in disgust as he accepts the offered carrot. "That's a shame. People who take advantage of innocent animals should be strung up right alongside politicians, generals, and other vermin of like kind."
"Here you go, girl," he says in a more comforting tone as he offers the carrot. "Come on, it's alright. You're so much bigger than me, you can stomp me into the ground if I do anything threatening. No need to be fearful." He waggles the carrot up and down in what he hopes is an inviting manner.
Mallory looks up at the Bartender at the tail end of his story. Through the entirety she had been gazing out the window at the gnome. "Some folk," she replied, without looking back, "Are driven by they work. S'all they have." Downing the shot, she looked back at the man. "Others like to do things some might consider out of line, get theyselves killed." She shakes her head. "Awful shame about the kids. Reckon it's good it was disease, else our buddy would have more work to do." She finishes her drink, and pays the man, still staring at the gnome through the window, debating going over to talk to him again. As she's standing up, the thunder clap goes off, and she drops down, knees cracking as she does so, hand going for her gun. She pauses a few moments, listening. Commotion outside, but just the one shot.
Moving quietly she peers through the doors before stepping out. Among the dwindling crowd, she spots Ben, and the sign for the Clinic. 'Oughta figured that boy would try to fetch a sale of my medicine.' Seeing him walking with his arm intertwined with a girl, Mallory smiles. 'Ain't nothin' if not predictable. Girl's too attractive for him, reckon I should do somethin' bout that, pay him back, as it were. S'only fair.' With a devilish grin she set off after them.
As the pair walk towards the clinic, Mal approaches quickly from behind, shouting. "Ben Dalton what in Tarnation are you doin' with this lady?" As Ben spins around, no doubt confused, she'll slap him across the face, and turn to the girl. "Bastard ain't tell you he was married, did he?!"
Ben winced, but he didn't drop Buckaroo's arm. Scowling like a thunderstorm, he yelled back, "You crazy polecat, Mallory Lewis! What in Perdition's name are you stickin' your nose where it don't belong for?!" Realizing that this didn't exactly sound like a convincing denial, he looked askance at Buckaroo and assured her, "I ain't married, miss. Ain't never been. That woman don't do nothin' but lie through her teeth! And what for?" He turned back to squint at Mal suspiciously. "What for's the question. What game are you playin' at, woman?" She can't know 'bout the medicine, can she? I didn't spot her in the crowd...
Best play it safe. I don't want her messin' up whatever reward I might still dig out o' this mess. Switching tracks, Ben nodded toward Buckaroo. "Looks like there ain't no call for medicine after all. Folk was poisoned, as this lady tells it. Ain't that right? Damn shame... for them people, I mean."
Upon the slap, Bukaru removes her arm from Ben's (in order to be free to cast or flee if need be).
She waits for Ben's answer, with a small smile twitching about her lips, then says, "Married or not, I will not be party to anything that might hurt another's feelings. If the lady objects, it's obvious the two of you need to talk and work out your feelings for one another, and come to some agreement."
The pause before "for them people" tells Bukaru everything she needs to know about Ben.
Mercenary - out for himself. I'll have to find one way or another to turn helping with solving the poisonings into his advantage. If not with the promise of seduction because of this woman, it will have to be another way.
"Might you excuse us a minute, lawman? Matters of the heart, y'see?" Mal smiles sweetly at the Deputy, hoping that he'll move a few feet away. Once he does she'll whip back towards Ben. "Forget games, what do you mean poison?" Mal hisses a reply with a confused look. "Had it on good authority it was a sickness. Reckon the medicine that I brought" she glares daggers at the gunslinger, "Ain't like to be much good then. Damned."
She smiles, "Least you ain't gettin' paid." Her expression sobers as she turns towards the new girl, shaking her head. "Good man died to help bring that medicine here." she pauses for a moment. "Not to mention a whole mess of unpleasantness to my own person, such as having to face the boogeyman, and deal with your trait'rous new friend here, and now I hear tell it's all for nothin'?"
An unpleasant thought comes into Mallory's mind. "Vincente must not have known, neither..." She mutters. As the wheels spin and she struggles to put the pieces together, unsure of how many she has, she looks towards the girl. "Can you tell where the poison came from?"
"All I know for sure so far is that it appears to be belladonna. I don't know the local plants that well yet, but I suspect it could have come from anywhere, including by train." Nodding towards the station.
"Would either or both of you allow me to inspect this 'medicine' that you have? It appears that there is a lot of deception going around, and I for one am very interested to know what exactly it is you have brought. I suppose there is a small chance that what you brought is actually antitoxin, and was intended to appear to cure the 'plague', in which case it *would* help those who are sick."
Mal studies the girl for a second, knowing nothing of her skills or background. It occurs to her that she could turn to Ben for some kind of confirmation, but what that might be worth is anyone's guess. Knowing she has little other choice, Mal nods, and adds quickly, "I insist on it. Reckon it shouldn't be given out without a proper once-over anyhow."
Turning to Ben, Mal opens her mouth to explain her theory, and then promptly closes it. He had proven many times that she couldn't trust him, and right now she needed that. Loath as she is to admit it, the one person she might be able to trust is the Doc. She had no way of knowing what side Ben was playing for, but the Doc was vocal as all get out about, well, everything. Opening her mouth again, she says. "On one condition. I want someone else there for it... Where's the Gnome Doc gone off to?"
The pony moves in to bite Doctor Loveless but the ever wary gnome brings his hand back just in time.
Monty jumps to his feet.
"Ah, dagnabbit! I thought you was going to play nice this time. Stupid varmint! Do you have to bite everyone that comes on in here?!"
Once he verifies that Doc is okay, he sighs and puts a hand to his hair to ease back the strands that had fallen out of place in his panic.
"Look, mister, I'll level with you. Ain't no one turned that critter friendly in over 2 months. To be perfectly frank, you're the only one who's gotten even a little close. And the bottom line is you'd be doing me a favor if you took her off my hands for 15 gold, so at least I'll break even. Otherwise, I'll need to put her down."
Doc scoffs. "You most decidedly will NOT," he says with conviction as he turns to glare at Monty. "I'll buy her and turn her loose before allowing that."
Careful. The gold's not changed hands. Still have to deal with this man.
Loveless sighs and slumps a bit. "Look, you're a businessman. I realize it has to be about profit and cash flow for you, and you see this animal as a drain on your finances and nothing more. But you're pissing in your own soup-for-sale pot. She's likely the way she is precisely because of being treated as an expendable object."
He turns back to the pony, judging options and probabilities.
"Twenty," he says finally, not looking away from the animal. "I'll split the difference at 20 gold. But you'll throw in a full set of tack, a nice riding saddle and blanket, and saddlebags filled with a week's trail feed. Now go get my order ready, you're probably disturbing the poor animal and I want some time alone with her."
Doc studies the roan for a while. His eyes flick to the carrot that fell out of his hand near the fence line. He looks up at the pony.
She's looking at it too...
With a subtle gesture and a murmured phrase the carrot floats slowly upward, and Doc gently plucks it out of the air with his right hand. From his left, he lets drift free a chunk of dried apple from his trail rations. It floats over towards the pony, at first passing close enough for it to be seen and smelled, then pulled back until just out of reach, requiring a step towards Loveless to snag it from the air for munching.
He repeats the process over and over, attempting to inch the pony slowly towards him. As he does so, he talks quietly to her. "Look, I know you don't like this pen. You probably don't like me either. But we need to come to an agreement, because that fool would put you down simply because you're an inconvenience. We need to get you out of this pen and away from here."
Finally, he holds the carrot out again. "Trust me. Please."
"Forget games, what do you mean poison?" Mal hisses a reply with a confused look. "Had it on good authority it was a sickness. Reckon the medicine that I brought" she glares daggers at the gunslinger, "Ain't like to be much good then. Damned."
She smiles, "Least you ain't gettin' paid." Her expression sobers as she turns towards the new girl, shaking her head. "Good man died to help bring that medicine here." she pauses for a moment. "Not to mention a whole mess of unpleasantness to my own person, such as having to face the boogeyman, and deal with your trait'rous new friend here, and now I hear tell it's all for nothin'?"
"What you brought? Traitorous?" Ben sputtered with outrage. "How about when you swore there weren't no bounty for Scalpin' Jack? An' I brought that there medicine here same as you. You think Gulch an' Kincaid woulda given in without me there?" He fumed as Mal sank into her own thoughts.
An unpleasant thought comes into Mallory's mind. "Vincente must not have known, neither..." She mutters. As the wheels spin and she struggles to put the pieces together, unsure of how many she has, she looks towards the girl. "Can you tell where the poison came from?"
...
Loath as she is to admit it, the one person she might be able to trust is the Doc. She had no way of knowing what side Ben was playing for, but the Doc was vocal as all get out about, well, everything. Opening her mouth again, she says. "On one condition. I want someone else there for it... Where's the Gnome Doc gone off to?"
"Prob'ly busy lobbin' fire at someone. He can do it just by openin' his mouth," Ben said sourly, seeing his chances with Buckaroo go up in flames along with his hope of getting rich quick. "You ain't actually goin' lookin' for him? I didn't have you pegged as someone who likes abuse. What do you need him for? Got a reg'lar gnome right here."
The pony whickers, and takes a step back. But eventually it slowly moves forward and nibbles from the carrot in Doctor Loveless' hand.
Monty then agrees to your proposition.
Doc smiles and cautiously strokes the pony's muzzle. "Good girl. And thank you. I think we'll get along just fine."
"Ain't the right Gnome." Mal replies, largely ignoring Leland. She cocks her head at Ben, replying coolly. "You mighta helped bring the medicine, but that ain't make it yours. No surprise you were able to help with Kincaid, yer jus' like him."
Deciding she's finished with him, Mal turns around and begins surveying the town, searching for Doc. 'Where would that little man go?' she wonders. Glancing back she looks to Buckaroo. "Don't start pokin' the drugs till I get back. And if he tries to steal them again," she points at Ben, "Might be best to shoot him."
With that, Mal struts off down the street in search of Loveless.
Ben watched Mal strut off with a flat, dangerous look. Gettin' in the way of him makin' a profit was one thing, but comparing him to soft scum like Kincaid, well that just got her on his bad side.
He turned those cold eyes on Buckaroo as the Deputy approached. "I ain't stolen that medicine any more'n she has. You come on now, an' do all the pokin' you like. I ain't waitin' in the sun for no damn gnome." He stalked off towards the clinic
Suddenly finding himself alone in the street, Leland can do nothign but shake his head in bafflement at what just just transpired. "Tall folk..," he mutters under his breath.
With nothing else pressing at the moment, he beings to whistle softly to himself and starts to pull various metallic odds and ends out of his sleeves and pockets. These he fits together with a click or few turns of his trusty spanner. In a shockingly short time his steam-work automaton stands whirring and hissing softly. With a grunt, Leland hauls himself up into the contraption's built in seat and with a pat of its flank, he eases it in the direction that Mal headed off in such a huff.
Prepping the pony for travel takes longer than it normally would, what with Doc making slow non-threatening movements, staying clear of those theoretically herbivorous teeth, offering the occasional bit of dried fruit, and trying to continually reassure the animal.
"We'll have to figure out what your name is," he says as he gently walks the pony out of the pen, closing and latching the gate behind them.
Holding onto the reins with one hand, the other massaging his chin, Doc studies the animal thoughtfully. "You seem a lot taller now that it's come to climbing aboard. But I suppose this is when we learn if you're a mount or just a pony."
He moves closer to her head and speaks quietly into one ear as he feeds her another piece of dried fruit. "This next part might not thrill you. But I'm much lighter than a lot of people who could sit on you, and we need to work together if we're to get you out of here safely. And both of us to Tin Star."
He slips one foot into a stirrup, grabs the saddle horn, and tries to swing himself up. Immediately the pony snorts, throws her head a bit, and sidesteps away from him.
Doc rides down the middle of the street and catches Ben, Leland, and Mal conversing with a halfling and another half-elf.
"That's a girl," Doc says in encouraging tones as he settles into the saddle, patting her on the side of the neck. "Nice and easy, now; I'm no rider." He tries pulling her reins to one side and she obediently turns in place. A gentle prod with his heels and she begins walking forward.
"Pfft, nothing wrong with you a little understanding won't fix, eh? No wonder you were so jittery; tallfolk get on my nerves too. But I'm more your size and on your side. You'll be okay."
Mal hasn't walked more than 10 feet when she sees the Doc come trotting towards her on a miniature horse. "Oh for..." she thinks to herself. Resisting the urge to say something rude, she instead bites her tongue and smiles at the gnome as she approaches. "Mighty fine steed." she mutters. "Listen, Doc, I need a word."
Uncomfortably shifting her weight between her feet, she takes a few seconds to decide where to start. "On the train," she begins. "You'd reckoned that Gulch didn't plan on shellin' out when it'd be easier to just kill the lot of us. Would explain why he'd agree to give so much fundin' to us, since we ain't nobody."
Tipping her hat back, she scratches her head with a greasy finger. "Girl over yonder" she points, "says the sickness here ain't natural, but like to be a kinda poison." Thinking of how to word her next questions, she looks the Doc in the eyes and holds his gaze. "Know for sure I can't trust Dalton. But you ain't crossed me yet, and that's not nothin', so here it is. Dwarf died on the train, name of Vincente. Fellah was bringing medicine here to help combat the sickness. Reckon it was to be part of his payment for going to Red Rum with Gulch."
"Anyway, I'm wondrin' if you might think it likely that, you know, Gulch poisoned these folk his own self to get Vincente to join up." She shakes her head. "Hero angle didn't seem like to work on us, so he went for gold. Maybe I'm bein' crazy, but I didn't make it this long not bein' careful. Girl's gonna look over the medicine, see if it's even real. Thought you might do these people the favour of taking a look your own self?"
"Speaking of annoying talls," Doc mutters to his mount as he sees Mallory striding purposefully towards him. Sighing in resignation, he reins in his ride and waits as the 'slinger nears.
Taken aback by the first words out of her mouth being a compliment, he responds without thinking. "Thanks. This is my little pony..." he says and then -- eyes flicking about, grasping for a name -- he spots a crudely-lettered 'Specials' placard in front of the saloon.
"... Applejack. Beautiful creature," he says as he pats her neck again, "but mind the bitey end. Seems she's none too fond of tallfolk."
Doc scowls as Mal explains the situation. "I wouldn't put anything past that man, Miss Mallory. On top of everything else, you doubtless noticed his eyes. Sorcerer would be my guess, and the serpentine bloodline is all about deception and compulsion."
As Mal continues, it dawns on Doc that being in Applejack's saddle puts him essentially at eye-level with tallfolk, and he smiles as he returns her locked gaze without having to crane his neck for once.
"Poisoning innocent people would be low even for the likes of him. I wouldn't go so far as to say 'likely,' but... well, as I said: I wouldn't put anything past him."
He looks over towards the clinic. "Unfortunately, I'm not that kind of doctor. My schooling is in the sciences, alchemy in particular. And while poisons are normally a fundamental part of that curriculum, my heritage -- my own 'bloodline,' if you will -- drew me to a fire specialization instead."
He looks thoughtful. "Still, being as adept as I am at identifying potions, I might be able to evaluate certain medicines, antidotes, poisons... alright, let's have a look." He nudges the pony gently with his heels and proceeds down the street at a slow walking pace so Mal can continue to talk.
"What about this girl you mentioned, how does she figure in?"
If it's Knowledge/Nature, I'm out of luck - no ranks.
As for identifying potions.
On the off chance there's some magic in it.
"Please," Mal snorts in response to Doc's warning. "She looks like a sweetheart." Somewhat distractedly she pets the horse while she and Doc talk. "Mmm, Snake-eyes." she agreed about Gulch. "Was always told not to trust them." She almost rolls her eyes once while he rambles on, but manages to control herself. Once he agrees she thinks 'Finally.' and simply nods, falling into step alongside him.
As the two begin their walk back towards Bukaru and Ben, Mal laughs at the Doc's question. "Ain't hardly know the girl. Had to sabotage Ben's chances with her on account of it seemed he tried to sell the medicine out from under me. Boy's a problem." She smiles. "Girl seems nice enough. Learned, like your own self. Seems to have taken a particular interest in the medicine." She pauses before adding. "You know, if that's what it is. Reckon she means well, though, if that's your worry. Still figured it'd be better to have you there. Least if she was up to no good, reckon you might see it 'fore I do."
A little disappointed that Applejack doesn't snap at the 'slinger and... jealous?... that Mal is so easily able to pet her, Doc harrumphs but otherwise reserves comment.
Must be my calming influence on her back.
"Oh, I highly doubt the girl is 'learned like my own self,' Miss Mallory. I am, after all, exceptionally intelligent and well-schooled. But your meaning is understood."
"No, I wasn't questioning motives so much as who she is and why she's involved. Such an opinion coming from the town's doctor carries different weight than the same from a barmaid, if you will. But you raise a valid point: If she's a part of some nefarious plot, she could tell you whatever best moves it along. A cross-check is always wise."
"Problem is," he muses, "given this isn't my forte and she's apparently an unknown, if we come to differing conclusions..."
He looks at Mal as they proceed down the street. "... who do we believe?"
The gang gathers around the train platform where the Medicine is being unloaded. When you inquire about it, it seems Mr. Gulch had your names placed as the owners.
One of the workers there hands you a crowbar and when you open up one of the boxes you take a look inside. There are various vials, sealed-packages, and tools.
The crate you opened is filled with medical kits, antitoxin, anti-plague, and even a few potions of Cure Light Wounds. Each box also includes a single Potion of Remove Disease which cost 750gp at full price. Everything a clinic would need to treat emergencies, short of a high-level cleric. You verify that its contents are legitimate.
Doc climbs down from Applejack and loops her reins around a nearby hitching post. Picking up a vial he swirl the contents, then holds it up to peer through the liquid before popping the cork. He repeatedly sweeps one hand over the top of the open vial to waft any aroma towards his nose, then cautiously dips a pinkie into the liquid and touches it to his tongue. The process is repeated for each differing liquid.
"Hmm..."
Doc then opens one of the packages to check its contents.
Finally, he turns his attention to the tools.
Picking up one of the vials again, he motions to Mal and then walks away from the group before speaking to her in quiet tones.
"Thought you might want to keep this between us until the girl says her piece. But as far as I can tell, it's legitimate. All of it. Herbal tinctures and powders for fever, congestion, general sickness. Antivenoms and antitoxins." He holds up the vial he brought with him. "Even a potion to cure disease. What's in that crate, it's what you'd find in any well-stocked clinic."
"So it appears your troubles were not in vain. We need to get these boxes to the clinic as soon as possible. I hope they'll listen to me and administer the antitoxin first before anyone else dies."
"Huh." Mallory says, surprised (and maybe a little disappointed?) to find that they all arrive at the same conclusions. While this was good news for the townsfolk, it did not necessary clear up anything about Gulch, nor his relationship with Vincente. She scratches her head, unsure of what to say, or what her next step should be. Turning to Doc, she cocks her head, "Reckon this changes things?"
Doc shrugs. "It invalidates a theory, answers some questions and raises still more. But the important thing is, now the sick children have some hope."
"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you all would be so kind as to bring these to the clinic right now, I'm sure you can make arrangements with someone there to be paid." There's just a tiny touch of disdain in her voice on that last word.
Mallory shakes her head at Bukaru, her voice taking on a particular edge meant for Ben. "Ain't no one gettin' paid for this."
Ben had already come to the conclusion that he'd never get away with charging the townsfolk for antitoxin if they'd really beem poisoned. This was the last stop of the Rail; he couldn't afford enemies in this town. The best he could hope for was a reward for bringing in the antitoxin in the first place.
All the same, he didn't like Mal stating it like he had no choice. He gave her a cold glance, then lit another cigarette. Best watch your back, Mal. I'll be there when your luck runs out. The thought was cheering enough to put a faint smile on his face.
He whistled to catch the attention of the porters, then tossed them a few coins to have the medicine crates brought to the clinic.
The porters nod.
"Of course, Mr. Dalton."
Doc unties the reins and climbs back on Applejack. "Alright Appie, let's head out," he says, then clucks twice and nudges her with his heels.
As you walk in you see a bunch of sick people in beds all along the wall, they are mostly moaning. But a little boy is very quiet. Aside from the subtle movements of his chest, you wouldn't know he was alive at all.
You also spot a man emptying various coinage into a medicine bag. He looks like he's about to bolt.
Loveless Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
Leland's Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Bukaru's Initiative): 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (20) + 0 = 20
Deputy Bluefeather: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Mallory's Initiative (potentially): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Ben's Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Healer's Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
Ben's eyes narrowed further. Looked like the fella had already squeezed the townsfolk's money out of 'em. Well, he wasn't going anywhere with it. The man looked 'bout as guilty as a dog what had eaten his master's dinner. Maybe there was somethin' to this poison talk, after all.
Whipping out his newly rebuilt pistol, Ben tsked. "Where you off to in such a hurry, fella? Man goes rushin' off, makes it seem like he's got somethin' he wants to hide. Why don't you sit on down afore someone happens to blow a hole straight through your hat, accidental-like."
Just repeating her thoughts : That bas***d! Taking advantage of the sick! If I did not have a vow against harming others...
Casting Bless on all us good guys : +1 to attack rolls and on saving throws against fear effects.
If the healer heard Ben he doesn't show it. He still looks as if he wishes to bolt.
Mallory quickly takes stock. Her eyes go rapidly from the patients, to the gold, to the man's face, to Ben, back to the man's face, to the back door, back to the man's face. She studies his eyes for a second, feeling quite confident how she'd react in his position. Gang of people bust into your shoppe, start waving guns around. It was either them or you. Either he'd run or someone was going to get killed.
Quietly, Mallory raises her hands and begins to step backward, passing the others until she is standing outside. Once Bukaru gave her visible cover, she sprints around the side of the building to the back door, her lungs aching for her to stop long before she arrives. 'Gettin' old, girl'.
'Yeah.' she thinks, and draws her pistol, listening for the sounds from within.
Leland sends Gizmo to block the back door(double move) and casts grease beneath the healer (DC15).
The Healer somehow manages not to fall on his rear, despite waving his arms comically. He takes notice of Gizmo, panics and somehow manages to skate through the grease. He drops the bag of money, and puts a dagger on the throat of the sick little boy.
"I'll slit his throat! I swear it by all the Old Dead Gods!"
"McCady! What in the blue hell you think you doing?! That's just a boy!" the Deputy Bluefeathershouts surprised at the explosion of action.