Walter Weißman's page

Walter wrinkles his brow listening to the younger man speak. While he felt for him - truly, losing family was an experience that Walter could empathize with - he was troubled by some of the implications of what he was saying. "A less observant man," he begins, carefully, "Might think that you're hirin' us to do a bit of home improvement, or that you think there might be some squatters up in there property. But you know none of us is carpenters or nothin'." He squints at the man. "Is there somethin' you reckon is there that needs five hired guns to take care of? It'd be best if we had all the information, you know."

As maybe a way of ameliorating the situation, he throws up a hand and says, "Do it either way, just thought I'd ask if you knew anything you didn't already say."

Grumbling and sighing, Walter lowers himself into one of the seats around Greenfield, though not either of those seats which are right next to the man. He keeps a wary awareness of the poker players, but doesn't pay them too much close attention. Attention can bring its own sort of trouble anyway, and people got angry when losing poker every day.

He nods at Greenfield, and asks, "So, what do you have for us?"

Walter returns with his backpack, a well-cared-for Winchester, an ammo belt, and a few other personal effects. He's donned gloves to cover up the scars on his hands, and he returns in time to see the others apparently getting ready to go out. "We get a chore to do, finally?" he grumbles.

Hey, it seems that the free PDF of Deadlands material is not available anymore. The RPG archive has gone under. Can anyone do me a solid and give me a small list of recommended equipment and their costs? I'd like to buy another six sticks of dynamite ($24) and just some basic traveling gear.

Should I buy the Savage Worlds/Deadlands books?

Walter shrugs, although his heart is low. It strikes perhaps a strange chord that he doesn't react much to what some might consider a death threat. Perhaps it's confidence speaking. Walter is, after all, clearly a big man. Years of hard living have made him broad and strong, and he's obviously no stranger to pain. "It ain't my choice if Greenfield hires a man who'll kill me on the same job as me," he grumbles. "M'name's Walter, by the way. I'm an engineer by training, a miner by profession, a gunfighter by necessity. Nice to meet y'all."

He stands up, busses his own bowl, and departs the room for a moment. "If y'all will excuse me a moment, that looks to be my cue to collect my piece."

What is he? Surely not a simple question to answer honestly, but perhaps Walter could scratch the surface without being too duplicitous. "I'm a miner," he says. "And, to be honest, a wanted man." Answering both Drake and Eli's question at the same time, he continues, grumbling "Mr. Greenfield pulled me out of the proverbial fire regarding some bounty hunters a few years back. We both figured I owed him, so I'm here to do this job." He pauses for a moment to spoon another mouthful of oatmeal. "Speaking of, any of y'all have any idea what we'll be doing?"

Idly, he considers going back to his room to collect the rest of his stuff.

Walter finishes up his oatmeal and goes to get a second helping. "Fair enough," he grumbles in reply to Eli.

Glancing around at the guns carried by the other patrons, Walter grunts. "You guys expecting somethin' or do I haf'ta get my own piece?" He's uneasy about having left his Winchester in his room, but a rifle's not exactly easy to cart around unnoticed. He's got the big knife in his belt, but there was a phrase people bandied around about bringing knives to a gun fight.

Do we know that we've all been hired by the same person, or are we just coincidental hotel lobby company for now?

Yo, looks like I have to go back and buy another couple things... like, pants, a coat, a hat? I think I want to put more money into dynamite. That ok?

Walter stumbles down the stairs into the dining room second, rubbing sleep from his eyes and grumbling moderately. Solidly middle-aged, he has a morning routine which cannot readily be interrupted. He wears an old, stained, wrinkled tunic and well-worn, patched brown pants. He hasn't slept well in weeks, and it shows. Deep dark circles mar the undersides of his eyes. Looking at him, the eye draws next to his ruined hands, a wrinkled mess of loose skin caused by what must have been terrible burns. His hair is brown and thin, somehow both greasy and dusty, and balding in unfortunately-placed patches. His chin is stubbled, but it's doubtful from the thickness that he could grow any kind of decent beard. Walter looks dirty and working-class. He hasn't slept well in a long time, and he's somewhat bleary every morning before he eats and really takes stock of himself. His ashen skin and the unfocused look in his eyes give his insomnia away clearly.

He plops himself down wherever there is to sit before realizing that he has to get himself food. With a grunt, he stands back up again and goes to get himself a bowl of oatmeal, a few sausages, and a mug of coffee (a splash of milk and no sugar) and plops back down again. A big, broad man, Walter will need plenty to eat to be comfortable. Only after he's half-finished his meal does his consciousness awaken enough to acknowledge Eli. His gaze goes to the collar, the gun, the collar, and then back down into his oatmeal before he hazards a greeting with a gravelly, dry voice. "It ain't a bit early for that?" he asks, indicating the glass.

Yes! I suppose it is, sorry. I didn't see "Weird Science" in the list of skills in the normal (Core?) rulebook, so I just put down something that I thought I would need. I'll change it. Do I need to adjust anything else?

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Done!

Please let me know if I've forgotten anything or if I need anything. I'll re-format it later to be easier to look at and everything. I'll admit that I haven't given the rulebooks the most thorough of reads, so if I make any mistakes please gently correct me.