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Mal could tell that Zach's thoughts mirrored his own. He was willing to pitch in if pitching in was needed, but he found it best if others did the talking and he did things more along the punching variety. He caught a few words, and kept hearing "Galt". He wondered if their leader was John. Then he wondered who he was.
Mal had no interest in the homestead--it had obviously seen much misery, but also held nothing worth seeing. He would have passed on by, but the others were so intent on investigating it he held his peace. He rode out with Zach when he hollered about the churned-up earth, and stayed with the tracks, eager to get going.
"Hullo," Mal says, rising over the hill, coming back from the--whatever it was he was doing. It must have been a peaceful ritual because he appears quite at peace. "Ayup. Zack's got the right of that. Right handy he is, and yes, we had heard 'bout a great big cattle drive and we was just runnin' ourselves into the ground to try and catch up. So I s'pose this was one of them blessings in disguise, if I may be so bold. Yeah, let's get all our fair prizes of conquest all arranged and then we best mosey on out."
Mal nods at Rufus. "You got that right. It's a right good thing we stumbled along when we did. Given the choice, I'd much rather be the ambush-ers rather than the ambush-ees." As Winona comes around he just points at her wound. "Ah shucks, ma'am, you be all right. Just rub some dirt on that an' walk it off. Now friends, do we know what we're gonna do with all these bodies? I assume we're gonna keep us some mementos and then leave 'em for the wolves. Nothing wrong with that, wolves gotta eat too. Now I don't like being too open about this, but I took me some rather sacred vows of such. Nah, nah, I ain't all gonna be up in yer business about em', but I got me a rather, ah, particular set of rites I gotta follow as regard to fallen foes. And I can't be bothered to get all mouthy about it. I ain't gonna make you'all do anything and I just need a couple few minutes t' get 'er done. The first one t' fall was off in the woods a-ways, so Imma go do what I gotta do, and I figure by the time you all have taken off the mementos an' rounded up the horses I'll be right as rain. So, I'll be right back." Mal disappears over the hill and through the woods to where the other corpses lay.
Warrior three is trying to flee, you can let him go or take a shot at him at a range of 8 in the camp[/ooc] Seeing one warrior still up and about to flee, Mal advances on him at a quick walk. Seeing he won't get close enough to punch him, he draws his shotgun and let's him have it. "Oh no, friend. There's no leaving for you. You don't get to shoot at proper cowpokes like us and then get to go home."
Confident that this should be the last of them, Mal lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding and turns to John. "Ayup, friend. Guess it'll take more than a little skirmish with these folk to put me down for the dirt nap, ha! Good to meet you, buddy. Name's Mal."
"Well that was unpleasant," Mal says, standing and rising. "Do not recommend doing that again." After getting up he brushes some leaves and old grass off his rough-spun clothing. He smiles at Zach. "Ya gone kilt em' all without me? That's right selfish of yous. Not neighborly at all. Leave 'em a little bit for your friend, 'a'ight? Well, maybe I can find someone of my ovn very own anyways."
Like a man taking revenge for his own death, Mal hits the warrior right on the button of the chin.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm dead. I think it took longer to make this character than I've been playing it. Well fortunate we are that I have a backup character. Although he was lured away by the talk of spirits that only he can hear, those same spirits have now blown the winds of fortune in a new direction. *Paging Mr. Borak. Mr. Borak to makeup, please. Mr. Borak to makeup.*
Couple things. 1) What is confusing about my toughness? "Toughness: 2+ 3(Vig) + 2 (Armor) +1{Brawler} = 8(2){Bal}" Formula is 2 plus vigor. That makes 5. Brawler adds 1. 6. Putting ARmor on top of that gives us 8(2). And my armor has the Balistic property, which subtracts 2 from bullet damage. 2) GM, I don't understand your attack rolls. They took two shots each? Page 103: "Each additional action beyond the first inflicts a −2 penalty to all actions. Taking two actions, for example, incurs a −2 penalty to both, " With -2 to the first shot it looks like I'm missed.
Mal's eyes get wide as the wicked gleam of Ghost Steel comes out of Zach's fist. "Well now, ain't that a piece. I tell ya what, cutter, that'll do ya yur business. You are a man of surprises Zach. Alright, let's take 'em real quiet-like. Keep our options open."
Mal glides along with a woodman's step equal to his companion's.
Remember ranges are in inches, and one inch is two yards.(It makes sense in context. =) GM, what kind of equipment do the Natives have? Guns? Hatchets? Bows? Oh man that's rough Rufus. That's why I have those Walmart zipper bags on all of my mattresses. The kids rip some but its a good piece of mind not worrying about things getting through to the mattress. Keeps out spills too, and those we have many.
"Oh D---" Mal swears as two natives veer off and come toward them. "I know'd it. They's decided to get them et, so they sent off two bucks to go bring in their horses. Told you, if'n we didn't snag them horses some skullduggerous folk would. Only way to keep them horses now is to cut them off at the pass. You only got the hogleg, eh? Well I don't like other men running their hands all over Catherine, but just this once if you want you can have her 'cause we can't look over this gift to take their numbers down by two. I reckin' we might could do it without them seeing, too, we just wait past some trees and around the bend. So lets make tracks and wait for those two runners to come along us. You open up and make them honest. Imma throw some shots and then they're gonna run at me for some fisticuffs. It ain't gonna go well for them and then they'll be two done and none the wiser as to what happened. Maybe they'll send a couple more to go see what all the gunfire is about and then we'll do the same to them. Best chance them down there got, I say." Mal offers the Bullard to Zach and then takes off to get in a good ambush position to ambush the two coming their way.
"I knowd it, I just knowd it. Didn't I tell ya I knowd it, Zach?" Mal says just above a whisper as the two look down on thescene of ill omen. "There we go, them nice cattle-pokes done got themselves bushwacked by that their peck of dirty, dirty cannibals and is about to get themselves et. Now I know what you're thinking, Zach, and, no, I will not let you march down there and try to talk this thing out. With all the jaw-hacking I can see them doing they is doing enough talking and it just gets looking worse and worse. Now the way I see it there are only two ways out of this. One way is I done let the Cat here sing her song, and those dirty, dirty cannibals try to come up here and scalp us, and then I'll pick them off as they come.
Unless you got another plan, Zack? One that doesn't get us all et? And no, sir, like I said I will not let you walk down there and talk this out. All them nice cowpokes is trying that right now and it ain't mattering a hill of beans."
"Oh, smarts! That's what you got, Zach. Indeed indeed let us do it your way. Oh my but that plague'o'conscience must be a heavy burden. Glad and light is my heart that I do not need to share that load." Mal unseats from his horse and tells her to stay. "I think Imma take Big Cat with my, but little Jimmy can stay sleepin' for the now." he says, slinging his rifle across his back but leaving his shotgun in its holster. "Ooo, we gonna get dressed up and gonna dance it right toNIGHT I tell you what little darlin'." Without looking he taps his pistols at his hip, his little girls, Emma and Allie, checking to make sure they're still there and ready to play. "Now, see Zach, I ain't one o' them spirit peoples what can hide in the shadow of a leaf, or track a falcon on a cloudy day, so no, sir, I do not know from whence they is going. Way I figure, we got only one clue says anything else going on in this particular piece of nowhere, and that is that smoke over yonder. Maybe this is trussed up proper and already getting et on by some dirty, dirty tribe of cannibals. Can't save 'em then, no sir. But maybe, just maybe, they is only trussed and not yet et on. Then maybe we can save them. And they shall be ever so grateful. I am looking forward to their undying gratitude, I tell you I am. ...'Specially if any of them is half as foxy a philly like the one I caught you spying at the other night you old scoundrel! Welp, no help for it. Let's get a move on. Even if we gonna be dang fools and leave our own horses here 'cause there's gotta be a reason for right?" With that Mal ducks his head and steps into the shadows of the foliage.
Using his experience at travelling, Mal moves toward the smoke making as little noise as possible.
Mal rides closer to the horses and gives 'em a good once-over.
"Now ain't this the oddest thing, Zach? This is quite odd. Now why would a body just leave a perfectly good peck'o'horses just standing out here all nice an' purdy, without a single soul to watch over them? Why, they could get a burr, or need a feeding. Or, and Heavens forbid, a body without quite so many scruples could wander along and snatch 'em up the whole bag! Would we do that, Zach? Would we leave a bunch of horses not attended by even a single soul? No sir we would not." Mal stands up in his stirrups and gives the outlaying landscape a good once-over, looking for a single soul watching over the peck'o'horses. "Oh hello! Is there a body what lays claims to these fine, fine pieces o'horseflesh?" he calls out to the surrounding greenery. If he doesn't get a response, he says, "Now I know what you're thinking, Zach. You're probably thinking the same thing Imma thinking. You're thinking that their right'n'proper owners have got themselves perished and we should aught'a take these horses under our kind, kind ownership 'less banditos or person of a more skulduggerous nature come along and use them ill-gotten purposes. Or, worse! No one comes along and these beasts perish for want of love and kindness. Well, no sir! No sir, says I. Imma just gonna walk over that there'n hill and make sure there's no funny business about."
Mal rode easily in the saddle. The internal calm that he had spent so long harnessing set is mood to an eternal peaceful idle. He was by no means an imposing figure. His easy boyish smile was set on a body of medium build. His clothes were standard, made tough for the trail but of no fancy quality. He even disdained the normal duster and concealed his light armored vest beneath a hearty plaid shirt. If there was anything to distinguish this man who distained distinctions it was the odd medium-weight cowhide shield that rode easily on his left arm. "Now ain't that odd, Zach?" Mal inquires to his friend as he points out the rider-less horses milling about. "No who in their right mind would leave a whole bushel of fine, fine horseflesh just standing about?"
"This might could be a thing that would be worth checking out. Best case, we get ourselves a whole peck of good horses. Worst case, well, someone needs rescuing, and that's good too." Mal angles his own horse on an intercept course with the master-less steeds.
Excellent! Character submission from Atlas2112. For your approval. Mal: Str: d6
Athletics: d4 Stealth: d6 {1} Fighting: d8+1 {3} Riding: d6{2} Shooting: d6 {2} Notice: d4 Comm Know: d4 Persuasion: d4 Focus: d8 {4} Hindrances
Edges:
PP: 15 Powers:
Gear:
Armor:
Guns:
$17 Mal was raised as an orphaned Foundling by an isolated monk temple. Training was hard, but the values of Life and Peace, the so-called Wa of the World, was instilled into him by hard teachers with even harder lessons. He travels now, trying to do some good in the world and set the wrong things right. Advances log:
"The droid's probably right," Mal says, sizing up Tavin's new look. "We might need to handle materials, so it'd be good to have a materials handler. Alright do we have some plans here? Plan A is, I think, get Honey to a computer and have her scramble the data showing the crystals are excellent as paper weights or remarkably silent pets, but lousy at directly or indirectly causing things to blow up. Plan B, which came to me just now, is have Tavin grab some crystals, mix in some dirt or talcum or something not-crystal, and then run it through an analyzer. Then we have Honey just copy that data like, a billion times, so any evaluation of that sample size will show that the crystals are too contaminated to blow stuff up. How's that sound?"
Honey rolled her eyes, an exceptionally common display considering this was their first time uncovered. Her face was honestly on the more unremarkable side despite its faded palor. Soft green irises accompanied by short unkept blonde hair, if one were to ignore the rather obviously metallic jawline she'd pass for a regular human. Wait wut? From your avatar, I just sort of assumed you were obviously a droid. And the pic you link to isn't really helpful, since it could be anyone (a guy or a girl) in heavy, heavy gear. Are you saying you're very human? (and hot? =)
With two choosing White, and the smooth talker in red, Mal felt that a green suit would be good to cover any holes in their cover story. He'd found that 'I'm from Admin' could be more general, and sometimes more useful, than even an executive order. One could always shut down anything just by saying "There's no budget for that." "I think I look good in green," he smarmily declares, doing a little jig, apropos of nothing.
"Let me help you with that my man," Mal quips quickly as he bends to aid the butter-fingered aide pick up his dropped tools. "Hey, I'm with the team calibrating the droid, and we're not on as tight a schedule as you guys," he says with a impish grin. "Why don't you go on ahead. I'll get this one this time."
"Idunno I'm making this up as I go," Mal breathes steadily, slamming a fresh clip into his blaster before stowing it back in its hidden holster. "Well, we're supposed to change data that says that the crystals are good, so it says that the crystals are bad. Seems to me that the easiest way to do that would be to say that certain 'inconsistencies' have popped up and we need to makes sure that the data is honest. At least those are the words that we say to get us to a computer terminal. Then we hrmmmm and ahhhhh and Honey corrupts the data and we all leave and drink heavily. How's that?"
Mal contemplates, then finally nods at Honey before addressing Drifter. "Yeah, our ruse worked well enough so that I would have more faith in one of our's ability to deceive with our tongues than for the whole of us to deceive with our steps. So too, we must needs stick together. A strong force can turn a losing position into a winning won, but two smaller forces are but booty for the first obstacle to come along. Let us to the elevator. Honey, us the droid ready?"
"There! The lab!" Mal shouts in triumph as the map starts to make sense. "We're looking to make the empire think that crystals are bad at doing crystal-y things, yeah?" Mal explains, using the hardest scientific lingo he can conjure. "So wouldn't the best place to do that be in the place where they are trying to determine of the crystals can do the things crystals can do?" he asks, with a straight face. "We did a good job of not letting any alarms get out. I don't see why we can't just grab the droid and try the same trick that got us this far."
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