Loup Blanc's mechanical submission here, background to come. Since someone else posted a more healing and ranged cleric, I turned mine into a tanky warpriest type.
Search Posts
Leon unleashes another ray of divine power, his faith holding even as the wraith continues to attack.
Leon grimaces as he's only able to continue attacking the wraith with a weak spell to disrupt its form. Ought to look into better gear for this.
At the sight of the spectre, Leon is momentarily caught off guard, but quickly brings up a hand and invokes a brief prayer to Estig, knowing his guns won't help him against such creatures.
"Ahem." Leon coughs loudly and shoots a sidelong glance at his loose-tongued companion. "What we mean to say, sir," he says, turning back to smile at Frankfurt, "is that there were stories of mistreated animals, up to and including rumors of a corpse being found, and while we're sure you do treat your creatures well, we still have to look into it. Policy, I'm sure you know how it is." He sighs and casts his gaze toward their destination. "Has there ever been any history of trouble with the animals, sir? At any time, I mean, including way back when, if you happen to know. I certainly wouldn't want to hold you accountable for things that happened before your time, but we're interested in putting everything to rest if we can. We all have our skeletons in the closet, so to speak."
"Of course." Leon's comment is a tad delayed, and whether directed at Crane, Frankfurt, or both isn't obvious. "I think group pricing would be for us, yes. But we're not here just for the tourism." He pulls a cigarillo from his case and lights it up. "We're here for an organization that's interested in making sure your animals are treated justly and aren't disrupting the environment. Now I'm sure it's nothing, but we need to substantiate--or disprove--some things we've heard to the effect of mistreated animals." The man leans his head back and blows a ring of smoke high into the air. "I'm sure you can help us set things straight, and make sure your, ah, 'Camelpalooza' retains its good name." He smiles.
Once the group's checked in and settled in, Leon sets his things in his room and wanders into whatever area the others are gathered at. "Well, I don't know about you folks, but I for one think we oughta check out this ball of twine. World's largest, there's gotta be somethin' fishy going on there, I reckon." He glances up from the pamphlet with a crooked grin. "And then maybe these camels, too."
"Abadar's golden balls!" Leon shouts, thrown off by the camel's rush--and the way it appears to be hovering straight at him. Divine profanities aside, he kicks backward a step, firing with his other pistol, aimed for what he's pretty sure is a weak spot.
Leon heads out with the others, mulling over what little they've learned and wondering what's to be done now. The second question gets an unexpected answer when a beast materializes and the horse jolts to a stop. "The hell?" he asks, peering outside, and as he sees the monster, he kicks open the door. His hands fetch his pistols in a flash, and as he comes out of the carriage in a short roll, he fires a shot at the creature.
Leon steps forward, and he hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward Felix and Alyln. "I'm a healer, spoke with a nurse on the scene. Came to check on the woman. Ask them for credentials." With that he brushes right past the doctor, crouching down next to the woman. He takes his hat off and gives her a soft, warm smile, his eyes comforting when he removes his red-tinted glasses. "I understand you had something of an accident, miss. Are you feeling better now? I hope you weren't roughed up too bad out there." He hooks the spectacles in the collar of his shirt and sets his hat on the bed. "What exactly happened, from your perspective? In all the excitement and confusion, I'm afraid I didn't quite catch the story."
"That was just a nurse on scene, probably noting what happened so the doctors know what to look for." Leon pulls a case from a pocket and opens it to reveal several cigarillos and some matches, and he lights one up as he comes to stand by the group. "Tracks were cleft-hoof, maybe a camel or some such, went off sixty feet and disappear. Either it can fly or it can teleport, 'less maybe it was summoned. In which case we got a whole other level of mess on our hands." He blows a ring of smoke into the air and cracks the knuckles of one hand. "Can't narrow it down much beyond what we already knew--it ain't just a mad cow."
Leon claps his hands together to clean off some of the dirt, and squints as he stands and thinks about the clues they've gathered so far. It's narrowed down to something supernatural, so it seems, but without more to go on it can't be narrowed down to a single creature, or even a class of them. Even with Harkell's comment that the tracks look the same as what they found at the construction site, there's only apparent proof that the creature behind the trouble is continuing to cause danger. He sighs and heads back up to join the others. Hunts are never quick things, and he's used to spending days or weeks in a town before putting down the threat.
Leon does his best incredulous look and regards the carriage. "So, what? She was attacked by an invisible demon cow? In that case, I guess she's lucky to be alright." He pokes forward toward the carriage, looking for any tracks around the area, or even just a whiff of the rotten scent. As he catches the sheriff calling out, he waves a hand. "This is our job, sir. I'm sure Mister Tipper can explain."
Leon frowns and shakes his head. "Let's leave the politics to the politicians. I'm asking you as a concerned healer. If anyone needs help, that's what I'm here to do."
Leon quickly disembarks the carriage, hopefully alongside some of the others, and walks up to the accident, frowning. "What's happened here? Is anyone hurt but alive?"
Boss Team: Leon blinks and nods at Felix's question. "...Yessir, I think that definitely deserves going over. Did you say an office building was overturned? Like, the whole thing? Sideways?"
Boss Team: After Alyln's message, she gets another shift in Leon's mind--defensive, with a hint of surprise and anger. Whether he directly sends a thought back or she simply picks up on cues, his reply is clear: Stay out of my head, witch. The Hunters may use magical communication when needed, but Leon isn't used to voices popping into his head outside of a Hunt. And when something starts talking to your mind when you're Hunting, it's usually the thing you're supposed to kill.
He puts away his frown quickly, and nods to Steelcutter. "Suffice to say we'll handle things, and you won't have to worry about it any longer. The only things we need you to do now are keep a helpful attitude and try not to let this information get around too much. People tend to get antsy when they find out the Law's come to town, you understand." He pats one of the guns on his hip and smiles. "We may need more assistance from you, only information of course, and nothing too pressing. Anything you have to say about what's happened so far, what you know, would be very helpful--seeing as you're the boss and all, I figure you know more than just about anybody."
Boss Team: Leon all but rolls his eyes as Alyln steps forward, all pomp and pageantry with the Church. The Hunters were taught what the elders knew about that organization and their efforts, and the overall impression Leon--and most of his peers--had was that they were too open and domineering. Threats of financial trouble were their method, over-the-top intimidation... The Hunters had their hammers, to be sure, but the Church seemed to use even their knives as blunt tools.
Finally, Leon clears his throat and steps forward. "Mister Steelcutter, what I think is being driven at is that we all know there's trouble, and nobody wants anybody to get hurt. Money tends to make folk go a little stir-crazy, as I'm sure you know, and offering rewards to whoever wants to get involved is bound to get some folks in over their heads. And I'm sure you don't want that any more than we do. My bosses are willing to take things into their hands and help clear this problem up, but we need your sign-off on that, so to speak. Your cooperation in putting this to rest." His frontier accent is dulled, now, but a twinge of it remains.
I'm fine with GM rolling. It keeps things moving at a better pace, often enough. Plus there are plenty of skill checks that even the rules suggest the GM should roll.
Boss Team: Leon hangs behind the others, trying to look like a bodyguard or troubleshooter of some kind. He mostly keeps open ears and eyes for now, taking in his surroundings and sifting through the information as he can.
Leon shrugs at the talk of disguises and cover stories. "I'm more used to just sorta showin' up an' dealin' with the problem. Go 'round sneak-like, sure, lie my way in when need be, but disguises aren't a strong suit. Guess I could pose a troubleshooter pretty effective, though. Seein' as I am one, and all." At the question from the strange being, Leon frowns and shakes his head. Still not used to that. Don't like people in my head. The shake also goes for the idea of stopping, though. "You want some rest, I'll climb up top and keep us goin'. I know how to stay up all night without gettin' too tired. Just let me know when, and we'll ride straight on there. Sooner we get there the better."
Leon frowns as talk of a factory run by Edrev Industrial comes up, and it becomes more and more apparent that the town is in the pocket of modern industrialists--or at the very least, these businessmen had some sway over the place. The Hunters were far from anti-technologists, but Estig had always preferred the frontier, people living off the land, rather than urban society. The inquisitor takes a final drag of his cigar and flicks it to the ground, crushes it under his heel. "Well, if we've got somethin' strange goin' on, we'll take care of it. Used to workin' without contacts, diggin' up the info myself, anyway. Whole team o' smart folks workin' together, long as we play it smart, we'll catch whatever's raisin' the fuss." He settles his hands on the grips of his pistols, slung on his hips from a pair of bandoliers across his chest. "Don't care for the smell of it, myself, but I suppose if I did, that'd be a sign there's nothin' for a Hunt." Now that he's spoken more, it's easy to tell that Leon has a frontier accent, although his plain speech is offput by a thoughtful delivery. There's an old saying about taking the boy out of the frontier, and it seems to hold true for this Hunter, at least to some extent.
Leon had taken a perch near the edge of the stable's roof, sitting on the edge of a stall where he could keep an eye on the outside as well. His hat was pulled low, nearly obscuring his face, and the red-tinted glasses he wore. His long coat hung around him, and his gloved hands held the lit cigarillo he smoked idly as he waited for the time to pass. When the Director arrives, he gracefully clambers down from his post, and wordlessly takes and reads the paper. "We'll take care of it, ma'am." These are the only words Leon says, although he nods when the others ask their questions.
Howdy all, I'm here and ready to find and shoot some baddies.
Just realized I forgot to do Leon's spells. He'll likely have cure light wounds for just-in-case scenarios.
Name: Leon Hatcher
Loup Blanc here with my submission, crunch and background in the profile. I figured the 10-Minute method was a good one, since I wasn't sure how much you wanted. Let me know if you have any questions and/or if I should post in Discussion!
Loup Blanc here posting in because I saw the notice of recruitment closing tomorrow, and I don't want to forget to post then if anything comes up. Stats are all in the profile, background stuff isn't just yet. I didn't bother choosing super mundane gear since there's a fair chance we won't find it anyway; in answer to the question of what's important to him, mainly the longsword he got through his trait, and his holy symbol. Everything else would be replaceable, although his armor setup is ideally what I'd like at least to start.
Leon smiles at Hellstromme and gives a small nod. "That's a mighty generous offer of you, Doctor Hellstromme. I reckon I can't turn it down." His thoughts turn back to the iron man with the gatling gun arm. And for more reasons than etiquette.
"Thank you kindly, doctor. I'll be sure to put this toward the good Lord's work." Leon slides the roll into a pocket in his duster and pats it. Oughta cover a new bottle of good bourbon, if I can find one. Seems fair, seeing as You took away my last one. "So, what's happening now the excitement's over? On to Lost Angels, I'm guessing. Through thick or thin, you're gonna win, that's the plan?"
Leon turns to look at the Apache and frowns as he makes his comments. "I'm a man of God, but I'm also a man of the world. I know there's plenty of folks out there do some strange things. Some hard things. And there's plenty deserve to have those things done to 'em." The preacher pulls the cigar from his mouth and blows a cloud of smoke out, turning away from Drake. "I reckon we've both done some things we had to. I've heard of you, rumors, anyway. And I don't plan on saying anything, if that's what you're worried about. The people you've... well, there's a lot to answer for on every side." He turns to Drake and suddenly, there's a knife in his hand. "But don't threaten me, and don't take me for a fool who doesn't know what he's looking at." He slides the knife back into its scabbard and puts the cigar back in his mouth. He looks right and left to be sure no one is close enough to hear before continuing. "Look, Drake, I think you and I'll be mighty fine friends if we get past the posturing, so I'll put it out there. I know at least a little of what you've done. I'm wanted for several crimes myself, back East, to the tune of a few hundred dollars on my head. I reckon the 'Wendigo Killer' has a mite more than that, but my point is it'd do me no good to turn on you anyway. So let's just work together, at least 'til Lost Angels." He sticks out a hand. "Deal?"
Leon turns to Drake. "Well, it seems we've met a scientist of some kind. Seems Hellstromme and Irish are engineers, and here's the budding biologist. Now all we need's a chemist." He shakes his head and kicks one of the insects. "Probably ought to check on the others, I reckon. Unless you want to stab another carving into these things?" The preacher gives Drake a sidelong glance and starts to walk back to the train car.
"So what you're saying is they're big damn bugs?" Leon raises an eyebrow. "Maybe these're your spirits, all pissed off about the railroad, Shotgun." Don't recall hearing about insect demons in the good book. Even in the parts that didn't get into the main story.
Leon exhales slowly, and begins reloading his revolver. Once he's done that, he picks up his rifle and reloads that, as well, going through the full motions of ramming powder and shot down the barrel and packing it down. Finally, he throws the strap back over his shoulder and looks up to the man coming out of the cab. "Yep, I reckon it was." He gives a wry grin and pulls a cigar from his case, then lights it and draws a deep breath. "And you're welcome, friend, but it's nothing anybody else wouldn't do. We all have to stick together in the face of evils, don't we?" He casts a sidelong glance at Drake. "Of course, sticking with the guy with a shotgun is usually the best plan available." With that the preacher walks over to one of the bodies and kicks it, then squats down to inspect it, pushing it with the barrel of his revolver. "Either of you fine fellas know what the hell these are, anyway?" Might as well ask them, since You're being awful quiet on the subject.
Knowing his rifle is ill-equipped to fire more than one shot, Leon tosses it to the ground and quickdraws his pistol, firing another round off at one of the creatures.
Leon aims to fire at some of the creatures as they appear, but holds as the turret begins blasting away. He glances back to Hellstromme and raises an eyebrow, dropping the barrel of his rifle slightly. "You want us to go start shooting at the things? Not afraid we're gonna hit your fancy drill?" Assuming Hellstromme doesn't tell him otherwise, Leon shrugs and jogs off toward the Hellbore, raising his rifle once he's within range. "Lord, I ask not for respite or the knowledge of these demons, only the aim to blow them back to hell." Of course, some respite wouldn't be out of the question.
"No sir, that's what good old-fashioned cover's for." Leon sets the pistol back in its holster, now that they're here, and raises his rifle, taking aim down the way the ruckus seemed to be coming from. "The good book mostly offers some advice on when and where the shooting's acceptable, and helps me feel okay about it afterwards." We do live in a time of sinners, dear Lord. Just make sure I shoot the right ones.
Leon calmly stands from his stool, drains a final, large draught of the beer, and sets the glass back down on the bar as he draws his pistol. "Well, folks, seems that's our cue. Shall we?" Without waiting for the rest to respond, he strides purposefully back toward the caboose, kicking any other chairs and stools out of his way as he goes. Assuming nothing alarming occurs, he uses his free hand to draw the rifle from its boot and double check that it's loaded. Both guns in hand, he continues to the caboose. Dear Lord, preserve us in the time of trial, or at least don't toss me in headfirst. Mostly just don't let me have another sh*tshow with the shooting, if you please.
Leon sighs at the beer, but he takes a long drink all the same. He'd prefer something stronger, but this would do. Glancing at Drake, he gives another wry smile. "I'm not sure I'm quite built for such endeavors, myself. And I don't reckon these folks would take too kindly to myself up and proselytizing in the middle of their camp uninvited, either." He takes another sip and removes his hat, setting it on the bar in front of him. "Hopefully the good doctor will come through with something for us to do in the meanwhile. Or at least a running supply of fine liquor." He smiles at the bartender.
Leon falls silent as Drake proclaims his thoughts on the spirits. Do they exist, Lord? The same way you do, or maybe different but similar like? Cause somebody's pissed off in the Yonder, sure as Hell. And the other fella seems pretty happy, so it ain't him. With a sigh, Leon pats his chest, feeling the reassuring weight of travel Bibles in each breast pocket of his duster. He heaves a sigh and turns to Drake. "Say, Shotgun. You don't mind my asking, what's with the stakes, anyway? Noticed you pull one out before, had some sort of fancy carving on the end that didn't go into the other guy. Fancy yourself a craftsman, or is it religious differences?" At the cantina, Leon heads straight to the bar and taps it to get the bartender's attention. "These are troubling times, friend, when a man's throat goes parched and his head runs with too-clear thoughts. Have you any curatives that could soothe my affliction?"
"Sure as sh*t I don't like the look of it either," Leon comments, then sighs and turns back to the group. "And maybe there ain't all that many good folk left in the world, but there's a few here and there, I reckon. Hard to find, and rarely who you think they are. But they're out there. Doing the Lord's work, and anybody else's they have to in order to get by." He rests his hand on his revolver's grip and sighs again. "Yep. Even good folk live in a hard world. Man's gotta do what he's gotta do." He nods to Veronica. "And women too, I suppose. Whether it's tending bar or laying a beating into preachers with bad aim." With a chuckle, he waves his hand. "Well, anyway, seems like there ain't much chance of us leaving here anytime soon, nor do we seem to have any pressing matters attending us. I think a nip down to the local watering hole is in order, don't you? Mister O'Malley, you're still welcome to join if you like."
Leon tips back his hat and frowns as O'Malley asks for their stories. "Well, let's just say I'm a preaching man who prefers to go unnamed in your article. Come out Westwards to spread the good word and so on. On a mission from God, you might say. As for getting here, there I was on a nice comfy Smith and Robards train, with gatling firearms stored in every cabin I'm sure, even those fancy roll-down shutters, when BAM!" He throws his hands up in the air to emphasize the shout. "Suddenly it's off the tracks. Came to a few minutes later, these folks had put down some mad Injuns who blew it off the track with dynamite or something. Or maybe there was an explosion in the engine. Who knows? Not me." The preacher stops for a moment and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "You should ask them, though. Sure their stories are more interesting than mine, and they probably remember what happened better."
Leon stops and turns, then taps the brim of his hat. "Not at all, Mister O'Malley. I was, in fact, rather hoping you'd join me. I can't help but wonder what a man of your..." Leon trails off, waving a hand in the air as though trying to find the right word. "...persuasion," he settles, "was doing down here with Mister Hellstromme. I mean, this is all certainly an interesting affair, but not the kind of thing your paper usually covers, now, is it?"
Is this Costa Rica trip going to count for your GO?
Leon falls silent after Hellstromme's proclamation that he'll end the Rail Wars, and lets the others do the talking. You always send the loony ones, huh? I figure someone's gotta end 'em eventually, but one man's gonna do it with a crazy machine like this? The preacher takes a drag on his cigar and blows out the smoke slowly. And I reckon the name 'Hellbore' doesn't mean anything, either. Great. When the scientist ushers the group out, Leon stands and takes off his hat. "It certainly has been a pleasure, Doctor Hellstromme," Leon says before exiting. Outside he blinks, shakes his head a few times, and tosses his cigar on the ground, putting it out with his boot. "I reckon you're right, Mister Drake." He looks up at the native, the mirth gone from his eyes. "Something's upset, for sure. God, maybe your spirits, too. Call it what you will, there's a higher power in the world, and it ain't too happy with the situation of things right now." He turns to the Irishman. [b"You've got some interesting ideas there, Irish, but it don't matter much what he's planning on using the thing for right now. And while I may not like this, it seems we're along for the ride at this point. Just hope nothing goes wrong the next few days..."[/b] Leon frowns, knowing well the other voice in his head, and the trouble that follows him everywhere he goes. "I'm gonna go get a drink."
Yeah. Hopefully people will check back in and things can pick up before too long. Maybe contact them outside of the site through texting or something?
I'm keeping an eye on things, but I'm trying to refrain from posting instantly every time Sean does--I'd rather not it become a one-on-one post session that everyone else pops in to discover the next day, because I know from my experience that things can get strained when one or two player posts a whole lot without others giving input. That said, it can become difficult to track the game if I look at a new post and don't do anything, because I'll sometimes forget to check on things if a notification doesn't show up on my campaigns page. All in all, though, I think that we're missing some folks posting on a regular basis here.
Leon stands by for a moment, blinking at what he's seeing while Drake steps forward. What in the hell...? Dear Lord, I don't mean to whine or anything, but why do You feel the need to constantly send further and further trials upon me? In case You didn't notice, I ain't Job, and I thought that phase was behind You. After shaking his head, he gives a small smile and walks to an armchair, although he doesn't sit just yet. "Well I reckon it'd have to be to warrant the likes of Mister O'Malley there being out here. But I can't help but wonder, Doctor Hellstromme, and forgive my asking--are we talking Salvation of Humanity glorious moment in history, or dragon with seven heads and ten horns heralding the end of the world as we know it glorious moment in history?" He grins, sits down, and cross his legs. "Either way, I reckon I'm mighty excited."
Leon nods and tips his hat to Bill. "Again, thank you kindly for the welcome and bringing us this way. I'll make sure to keep 'em in line, and stay on our toes." After the foreman(?) leaves, Leon turns to the doctor when he grabs his shoulder and listens intently. "Alright, Irish, calm down. I won't go blabbing. Loose tongues are the tool of the devil and all that. Good to know your actual name, though." He turns to the others. "Well, we ready to meet the big man? Not the real Big Man, I mean. I hope not."
Leon willingly steps up and takes the man's hand. "Leon Hatcher." He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. "This here's Mister Eloi, Mister Drake who also goes by Shotgun on account of his fine piece, Mister Irish whose actual name I'm not sure of, and a Missus I ain't figured a good nickname for yet. Watch out for her right though, she knows more about crosses than me, and I'm a preacher." He taps the side of his nose and nods conspiratorially. "Good to meet you Bill, and downright hospitable of you to welcome us in out of the cold. I can promise you we won't breathe a word of this to anyone." At the mention of the boss and Bill heading out, Leon glances at the others and shrugs. Well, we made it this far. You wouldn't be mean enough to send me into a trap, would You? He glances over at the metal man with the gatling arm again and swallows. Sure You wouldn't. Sometimes I'm not sure which I like less, You or the other guy.
|