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This will be the thread of a Wild West adventure using the BX Tall Tales game book, using an adjusted Deadlands: Reloaded setting without the magical stuff. You'll notice a few similarities in the thread structure to nikolokolus 's thread - that's probably because I learn from the available, not necessarily from the best.
Some not-so savory types get together for a job. Inevitably, it goes awry, and we all go on a spaghetti western like adventure full of fortunes and misfortunes. A zero to... badass? 'Cause this posse can hardly be expected to become heroes. Combat, facing the dangers of a tough environment, as well as navigating the societal issues of the Wild West.
Yes I've literally copied this from Nikos.
The game's rolls and combat are handled on Roll20, while all of the other talky bits and in-character roleplaying is posted here on the Codex.
Chatter and General Questions can be sent via the chat box in Roll20. Use '/w gm' to send me a direct message and it will appear as a different color and I'll be more likely to see it. Or PM me on the Codex.
Post once a day if at all possible. If you can't post for awhile, let the GM (me) know and I'll NPC you for awhile. Alternatively you can appoint another player to act as your agent and run your character for you. If you go NPC mode you are assumed to be sidelined ... somehow ), if you take the risk and let someone else run your character you get a full share of treasure and any XP awards.
In-Character and Out-of-character text. If you post out of character just try to attach OOC to the beginning of any text or wrap it in spoiler tags. If you are talking as your character, then third or first person posting is fine. It's perfectly OK to say "my character does X" or "[Character Name] does Y", but you're also welcome to post in first person if that's what you're comfortable with.
Important encounters will be handled via Roll20 with a map. Positioning will be important, so everyone gets a token, and all the combat rules will be taken into account, as well as creative approach.
Bill Williamson - LVL 1 Mountain Man - a recluse of civilization, both refused by, and refusing civilization. Psychopathic tendencies but also a big heart willing to stop beating in defending his friends.
Ann Mosey - LVL 1 Gunslinger - a one-armed trick shooter that volunteered to defend Santa Fe against an assault and ended up sacrificing her arm in the fight.
Just Smith - LVL 1 Wild Man - A former gold prospector driven to bankruptcy when a ghost rock deposit he discovered was exploited instead by a mining company owned by one Phillip Idrique, without paying the finder's fee to Smith. Now on the quest for a bloody revenge.
Voho - LVL 1 Brave - the palest redface to have ever walked the Wild West, the spiritually inclined man decided to take the opportunity to spill some blood at the same time when Ann volunteered to join the posse.
House Rules Glossary
Healing, Resting, and HP
When reduced to 0 HP or less, a character has to pass a Toughness check or fall unconscious
When reduced to the negative value of their total HP, a character is instantly dead
If a character with negative HP is stabilized and rests, they can recover to 0 HP
Resting comfortably: extra comfort can heal extra HP above 0; campfire +1, bedroll +1, bath +1, prostitute +1
Otherwise, healing can be done by characters with relevant abilities, or paid doctors.
Take Aim & pop a mole
A character can spend 1 round "taking aim" on a pointed out enemy to receive a +2 bonus to hit chance on that specific opponent
Moving or taking damage breaks the character's concentration on their desired target and the bonus is lost
It may have been the job of a lifetime; perhaps it would pay a humongous debt off, or build the cabin of your dreams as well as pay for the property. Or maybe you're just a greedy fuck. It didn't matter - right now, you were prepared to have a shovel in your hands, and get busy digging what was to be your own grave. The sun's already low, and the rocky valley is now mostly in the shadow, but the heat is nonetheless unbearable. Just as another drop of sweat runs down your brow and you prepare to watch it fall and dissipate in the sand, suddenly appreciating those little moments at the end of your life, a gunshot echoes from somewhere beyond the valley. This gets you thinking about the job again.
Somehow, someway, this weird group ended up together in the backroom of a saloon in Derry's Ford, a Colorado valley town known for attracting untrustworthy characters, and being an asylum for those who needed to avoid the authorities; just like most of the rest of the Disputed Territories. The cigaretto smoke permeates the air so thick you can barely see each other across the table. The plan is laid out perfectly; as every two months, a shipment of Ghost Rock is coming from Lost Angels to Kansas City, and it will stop by in Dodge City to refresh the guard made out of Pinkertons.
Carter set it all up - he's got an in for Pinkerton uniforms and badges, and one of his partners, a whore known as Mercy, will be able to drug the squad liable to refresh those who'll need to rest after the long trip from the half-sunken California. You all will slip in, the cheaply paid guards and conductors none-the-wiser, wait until about halfway of the trip between Denver and Dodge City, then spring the trap. The few train-riders will be easy to subdue, Pinkertons all gone, all you need to do is take control, disconnect the Ghost Rock wagon, and let the rest of the train go on its way.
Simple enough?
Sure, it was. Everything went exactly according to the plan. The whole gang got on board - the party and three mercs, there to supply extra firepower should it be needed as well as making the Pinkerton numbers right. Everyone was none the wiser. There was some awkward conversation, but other than that, the whole gang lasted long enough to reach the halfway mark; a windmill on the side of the railroad that was the trigger to the heist. The signal was given and everyone sprung to action, holding up the ordinary guards. A brief shootout occurred in the crew wagon, some bullets hit, some missed, lives were saved by members of the party rushing forward to take a guard on in melee, others by turning a table over in just the right moment. You were all lucky; managed to finish it unscathed. One of the hired guns took a flesh wound, but nothing a little rest and herbal tea wouldn't resolve.
You disconnect the Ghost Rock wagon, engage the emergency brake, and after an ear-piercing screech and a yard or two, the carriage turns to a halt. It's straight in the middle of nowhere; the only sign of civilization is the old decrepit windmill off in the distance that was your signal to turn the train upside down. As you shield your eyes from the sharp sun assaulting your eyes when you get off the train, a dust cloud on the horizon catches your attention. Riders. Just as agreed.
But one thing isn't as agreed. As they come close enough for you all to start counting the silhouettes, it's not the 10 riders you expected. It's a straight twenty, and unexpectedly, Carter is present, even though he was supposed to be waiting at the safehouse the riders were to take you to. Before you can properly discuss your next course of action, there are twenty gun barrels facing down on you from horseback and the three hired guns already have their arms in the and. Now it's clear it was all a setup and you were the patsies to take the fall for the robbery - after all, there were a few witnesses. Now if you had all the cash the Ghost Rock shipment could provide - the Ghost Rock Carter promised to fence - that sort of payday would be enough to take care of the bounty and retire happily, but without it, you were dead men in either Lost Angels or Kansas City. But you didn't need to worry about that... it seemed Carter's posse was about to take you all out either way.
A few minutes of arguing, accusations of betrayal and threats later, the whole party is blindfolded and tied to a length of rope. One of Carter's riders takes you as if on a leash. All you can tell is that you change directions several times, but ultimately go south for a few hours, on foot, occasionally stumbling, falling in the dirt or sand, and there are a few panic moments when you feel you're suffocating when you fall down face-first. But all of you make it to your destination, as you find out when the blindfolds are finally removed. You're all in a rocky valley, surrounded by give men on horseback, and a few shovels are thrown at your feet by one of your captors; a bearded older man you've heard referred to as Bugbear.
"There are two kinds of people in this world, my friends... those with loaded guns, and those who dig... their own graves. Y'all dig."
He orders and while there is some hesitance, maybe even attempts at resistance from some of you, it's all for nought. Eventually, the hired guns start digging first, using up the three shovels provided. Perhaps they're resigned to their fate and just want to be properly buried; perhaps they're hoping to earn time and waiting for a miracle. Either way, it takes them about an hour while the rest of the party is waiting, watching, and feeling their lips dry up in the sun. The mercenaries each have a canteen, one of them even has a flask of whisky, but they're using it to refresh themselves, and not sharing.
It's when the first three graves are finished that some of you hear the faint sound of hoofs hitting the ground. Rescuers? Doubtful. But it's a messenger, known to Bugbear's gang, and so they lower their guns after seeing it's the messenger. A brief exchange takes place.
"Bugbear - one of the forward scouts reported a squad of Pinkertons coming in from Denver. Carter wants everyone back pronto, we're fuckin' off."
"We're not finished here," responds the gruff man - he seems to have spent a significant amount of time from civilization, and is brief in his speech. The messenger boy visibly trembles and his voice skips an octave.
"Carter says, everyone's to withdraw, pronto."
Bugbear seems to give a signal to his henchmen and two of them step off their horses. Before you can properly understand what's happening, the three hired guns - men whose names you can't properly remember, but who did fight side by side with you, are lined up in front of the graves, and then three revolver shots echo through the valley in quick succession. Each bullet hits the back of the dead men walking's heads, and they collapse forward, straight into the shallow graves. Bugbear marvels at his skill for a second and all of you can assess it as well; he was lightning fast, accurate, and didn't need much time to prepare.
His self-satisfied grin turns to the rest of the gang and it seems his brain's set on simply killing you all there and then and leaving the bodies to vultures, when much more distant gunshots sound off in the distance; it's difficult to ascertain, but they seem to come from the north. This distracts Bugbear, and prompts the two henchmen who were off to get back on their horses. The messenger dares to speak up.
"Just leave 'em, Bugbear, without horses, they's as good as deads anyway!!" the messenger yells.
Bugbear snorts and spits on the ground. Most of the riders direct their horses north immediately, galloping off through one of the valleys, but Bugbear stays behind for an extra five seconds. Before he squeezes his heels into the horse, he aims his revolver at the group and squeezes off a parting shot with a sadistic smirk on his face...
7 / 2, rounded down = Kane. Sorry brother.
All of you see Kane immediately drop on the ground, a blood spatter exiting from his head and dripping onto the sand. Before anyone can collect themselves, Bugbear's lost in a trail of dust lifted off by his horse, and you find yourself alone...
There are three lonely graves in front of you, missing what was supposed to be five neighbours. Your comrade Kane seems to have been shot in the face. Your lips are dry, cracked, your thirst immeasurable, and all of your wrists are still tied in front of your stomachs, as you were not digging.
There's nothing but the three dead bodies in their graves, rock walls reaching about 5-7 men tall, and three paths leading out of the would-be graveyard. Fortunately, your captors and betrayers have left you with your equipment, possibly because the Ghost Rock bounty will yield them more than a few pistols, rifles or tomahawks, or the loose change you have around your pockets.
Jesus, looks around for a sharp outcropping of rock he can use to "saw" at his rope tethers around his wrists. Barring that, he'll run (or waddle if his legs are bound) over to his equipment and try to free his bowie knife from its sheath.
Isaac watches the silhouettes of his captors as they disappear in the distance and murmurs "Carter, you son of a bitch". He then approaches the location where they had placed his equipment and grabs his shotgun while exclaiming "Well, there is nothing we can do for our dead partners. No resurrection potion exists, as far as I am aware, so we should settle for the next best thing: avenging their deaths. The jaunty salesman makes a gesture with the shotgun as if he wants to shoot sth. "Anyone got a knife to free us from our shackles?"
Jesus has no problem using a sharp rock in the cliffy walls surrounding you and frees himself first. With his hands free, he then manages to open the sack containing some of your items and withdraws his bowie knife, which he then uses to free Victor first. Jesus is then immediately concerned with Kane's fate and goes to check up on his seemingly lifeless body. The dust from Bugbear and his men is already settling and you surmise that the gunshots that have been heard were a brief skirmish somewhere up north that probably ended as Bugbear reinforced the rest of the treacherous posse. You can only hope that they don't decide to come back and finish the job, as you were hopelessly outnumbered.
While everyone is being freed, you hear a groan from Kane - somehow, despite the blood splatter and a bit of blood staining the sand under his face, he seems to have miraculously survived. Jesus turns him on his back to reveal the injury - the bullet miraculously missed anything vital, and Kane "only" has a nasty hole on each cheek as the bullet entered through the left cheek and exited on the right. The bad aftertaste of lead and gunpowder will not leave him anytime soon, but both bullet holes are small enough that if he gets a few stitches eventually, the man won't be leaking through the cheeks everytime he takes a drink of fire water.
While you lot can rejoice Kane's miraculous survival, there's still the matter of getting out of there. Bill Williamson can surmise that you are at least 12-15 miles away from the railroad tracks, based on how long it took your captors to lead you into this valley. You saw no other signs of civilization and you're very low on supplies - most of you are carrying some rations, which fortunately you still have, but there is a worrying lack of drinking water between y'all.
The bad aftertaste of lead and gunpowder will not leave him anytime soon, but both bullet holes are small enough that if he gets a few stitches eventually, the man won't be leaking through the cheeks everytime he takes a drink of fire water.
With his hands freed, Isaac searches the three dead men for loot.
DM, tell me if a check is required
He will take everything he deems useful except their clothes
Even the dead have honour
. When he finishes searching one body, Isaac closes its eyes and chants "Descanse en paz".
After that, he will regroup with the others and look for a way out of the rocky valley.
"The mercenaries each have a canteen, one of them even has a flask of whisky, but they're using it to refresh themselves, and not sharing" Are there any remains? Intact or broken bottles?
"Agua, Agua," Bill Williamson spits, "Speak anglish woman. I only understands that an' some native speak. Jesus! Is my rifle thar yonder? I swear, if'n it ain't niggers gone done us in, it's traitors, or this damn posse. We gots ta vamoose boys, and mighty fast says I! Stayin' round these parts while a war party is out fer blood ain't a thing we want a part of none."
"Agua, Agua," Bill Williamson spits, "Speak anglish woman. I only understands that an' some native speak. Jesus! Is my rifle thar yonder? I swear, if'n it ain't niggers gone done us in, it's traitors, or this damn posse. We gots ta vamoose boys, and mighty fast says I! Stayin' round these parts while a war party is out fer blood ain't a thing we want a part of none."
Kane takes a moment to steady himself on his legs.
Momentarily putting aside his need for medication, and focusing on the need for water, he takes stock of the surroundings. In the middle of nowhere with no source of water, and no company save his comrades in doom and a few forlorn cacti and bushes. Wait.
The cacti were young and small, but they would suffice for his needs.
Hefting his old tomahawk he cracks open a few of them to get at the water within.
The need for "agua" temporarily tended to, he grabs hold of a few tender leaves. Crushing them in his hands he applies them to his wounds and tears some cloth from his clothing to tie them up. It would at least absorb some of the bleeding until he could receive proper medical attention.
With the most pressing matters tended to, Kane draws himself up and addresses his comrades.
"Friends, there are two kinds of people in this world. Those who get shot and those who get even. I am getting even."
"Amen to that," Bill says, steadying himself as he rises from the ground. "We's ain't too far from the tracks, fifteen mile at most. That can lead us back to civilization some, though I's 'llow that won't be the safest thing fer us, specially since we's done rob the train. Now, I cain't speak none fer alla you good an' wholesome folks, but I's keen on not gettin' fitted fer no lawdog's necker tie anytime soon. We gots an idee whar we be, question is whar to go. I's open you all an yer thoughts on it."
"I figures we ought to find a place to hunker down first. Won't do us no good jawin' out here in the sun."
Kane gestures toward the dead henchmen. "Fixin to see what they got, they ain't gonna use it none, so I expect."
Adelita takes a few steps back and forth to better survey their location. It's a rocky area full of little twists and turns, with the branches splitting up further in each little valley. For all you know, the place could be a god forsaken maze - and all the rock faces look the same at an angle.
To the south, the pathway first opens up into another clearing much like the one you're in, and you can see at least two more branches splitting up. To the north-west, there is a bigger opening in the valley, and then one more just past it, which leads out into the sandy prairie you were lead into the valley from. To the north-east, the path splits - one you can assume leads back to the north-west exit, and one leads further east.
And finally to your direct east, which is a narrower pathway than the rest, only about two armspans wide, the path forks out into two more branches.
Some of you then remember one of the hired guns - who unlike Kane, did not come back to life - had a crude map drawn with the point of the railway where you were supposed to trigger the robbery... that might help y'all get orientated and give some ideas of where to go next.
Bit more of the roll20 map revealed based on Adelita's quick lookaround.
Kane drops down into one of the shallow graves and rifles through the first man's belonging. Dressed in fancy duds, the mercenary was wielding a derringer pistol and a curved knife for weaponry; a silver pocket watch that could fetch a small coin or two; and the folded up crudely drawn map that roughly shows the section of the train track where it all started:
All of you ornery scum would know that the Confederacy, of which Arizona and New Mexico are part of, does not care about wanted people guilty of crimes that occurred in the Disputed Territories. But of course, any independent bounty hunter who gets the news could still try to collect on your bounty - but with the law, you won't have a problem with. Former Utah, now known as Deseret or "the Mormon Republic" (though some also call them morons), are unpredictable, keep to themselves, and while as strangers you'll be suspicious and paid attention to, they are unlikely to collect you on behalf of the Disputed Territories.
Finally, everyone knows that Disputed Territories does not have much of an organized Law force, so it's not that difficult to elude them if you stay away from major cities.
The two other corpses were smart enough to carry two water canteens, though they are both half-empty already, one of them had a lantern, and the final corpse - the young, scrawny fellow nicknamed Flea that you all found odd was even part of the heist, since he seemed incredibly scared all the time, sweating profusely and generally looked like he does not want to be there, has a sealed letter addressed to none other than one Carter Jones ...
To sum up the loot, including the more generic
1x map
1x letter to Carter
1x silver pocket watch
2x waterskin
1x derringer pistol
1x curved hunting knife
Kane refills the water canteens with cactus water.
He then takes what hats the dead men have and fills them with water too.
He lets the others have the pick of the loot. "The water ain't such of a much, neither be the hats, but it beats drinking out of a cactus."
That done he does a patrol to the various paths described to see if he can identify some sufficiently high location that he could use as a vantage point to survey the surroundings.
Isaac offers himself as the reader to those in the posse that don't possess the necessary faculties. He reads the letter aloud as follows:
Carter,
yer plan is totally fuckin' insane. Have ye hit yerself in the head? there's nohow the confederacy will gitty-up along with it and work with the likes of ye. I want nothin' to do with it, but nobody can say i don't pay my debts. But the meetin' at the 'coon is the last time i've associated with you if you're goin' through with this. I've never shied away from danger, ye know that, but this is suicide, lad.
the Actual i owe ye is on the bottom of the well in old wheeler burg, you gotta count out the bricks at exactly mid-day, when the shadow will mark the right column. Then just count upwards the amount of years we've known each other.
i still hope ye reconsider, if yes, pass a letter back to the button and let me know ye abandoned this hare-brained scheme of yers.
hope it's no farewell,
Larry
None of you have any idea what this "wheeler burg" is, all you know is that burg probably refers to either a very small, or just temporary, or even abandoned, town/village. Let's say a new rich mine for Ghost Rock was founded, a "burg" would be temporarily erected nearby for the workers to live in until they mine it out. But they rarely survived mining it out.
The cliffs all around you are climbable, varying between 25-35 feet high, but it'd be a very difficult to scale them without any rope to pull yourself up on.
Bill Williamson contemplates what's just been read to him with a steady hand against his chin as he leans against the rocky outcroppings.
"No doubt, we're in a hell of a jackpot. How ta get out of it is gonna be somethin' else. Golldarn Confederates werkin' with the likes a' Carter, hell that makes things right curious says I. Makes sense we go thataways. An' ifn' we goes ta New Mexico an' sech, at least we won't run inta freed niggers none, an' that's somethin'. Still, I'd likes ta find that money this 'ere Larry is chalkin up ta pay back ta Carter. Seein' as Carter will never get it, on account a sech things bein as they are, well I thinks it's a right sin ta let good money go to the way of the wastrel. What say you all?"
"Beggin' respect, but I says we figure where we can go afores we set on where to go. Now if we have some rope, and a hook, we could climb them cliffs and get some idee of where ta heads."
), if you take the risk and let someone else run your character you get a full share of treasure and any XP awards.
