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Toughy
Nov 29, 2004

KAVODEL! KAVODEL!


Deadmeat5150 posted:

Roy is my spirit animal. I mean its drat eerie the way you described the way he loves the wind and the waves.

I also can't not see Roy in my head as Quigly from Quigly Down Under. Now we just need him to make an impossible shot with his rifle.

Mustache or no mustache?

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Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy

Toughy posted:

Mustache or no mustache?

Why would anyone ever choose no mustache?

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Tyrannosaurus posted:

Why would anyone ever choose no mustache?

There are those of us who can't grow a decent mustache.

We just get, at best, kinda shaggy.

Toughy
Nov 29, 2004

KAVODEL! KAVODEL!


Tyrannosaurus posted:

Why would anyone ever choose no mustache?

Well Quigley is played by Tom Selleck and he alsways has a mustache but Roy definitely isn't man enough for one

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

Deadmeat5150 posted:

Roy is my spirit animal. I mean its drat eerie the way you described the way he loves the wind and the waves.

I also can't not see Roy in my head as Quigly from Quigly Down Under. Now we just need him to make an impossible shot with his rifle.

I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far!

I'm going to be doing something pretty experimental with this story. The backdrop is going to be a western, but I wanted to do something new. I wanted to establish the characters for a very specific reason before I jump into Brianna's trouble.

RickVoid
Oct 21, 2010


Well well. You're quite interesting, aren't you Brianna? That quick smile, quicker wit, open heart, and will of solid steel? But in a place like this? Does such a place truely forge someone like you?

No, no, this isn't the real you, is it? This is your mask, the person you are trying desperately to be.

Who are you, Brianna? Who are you, really?

Toughy
Nov 29, 2004

KAVODEL! KAVODEL!


RickVoid posted:

Well well. You're quite interesting, aren't you Brianna? That quick smile, quicker wit, open heart, and will of solid steel? But in a place like this? Does such a place truely forge someone like you?

No, no, this isn't the real you, is it? This is your mask, the person you are trying desperately to be.

Who are you, Brianna? Who are you, really?

The scourge you of the Badlands Ellll Ka-Bong!!

Deadmeat5150
Nov 21, 2005

OLD MAN YELLS AT CLAN


Toughy posted:

The scourge you of the Badlands Ellll Ka-Bong!!

Doesn't that make Roy Baba Looey?

Toughy
Nov 29, 2004

KAVODEL! KAVODEL!


Deadmeat5150 posted:

Doesn't that make Roy Baba Looey?
It could work

malbogio
Jan 19, 2015


jagadaishio posted:

So, I'm voting for Brianna's identity crisis, because that conversation left Roy feeling good but hit one of Brianna's fault lines.

+1

Helical Nightmares
Apr 30, 2009


Brianna's Identity Crisis.

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

This sounds rad a hell. Bookmarked, catching up.

Brianna's Identity Crisis.

Green Intern fucked around with this message at Apr 22, 2018 around 14:15

Groetgaffel
Oct 30, 2011

Groetgaffel smacked the living shit out of himself doing 297 points of damage.

Nap Ghost

Another one for Identity crisis á la Brianna.

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

I just want to say that I was 100% sure this was just a Magical Western, so the mention of Lost Tech and Roy's arm (which I wasn't sure at first was fully functional or not) has intrigued me even more.

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

Brianna

"I drat your soul until all the rocks turned to dust," said Mathers, voice cold and distant.

Brianna looked at the back of her protector, clad in black, revolver still smoking. Brianna's hands were pressed to her side to stem the flow of blood as she gazed up at her friend.

"Mathers..." pleaded Brianna, whose voice was stolen by a ragged cough. "Mathers, no!"

Mathers did not listen. The spirit of the recently killed man screamed.

"I drat your soul until the sun shines its last and becomes nothing more than a burnt out cinder. When the last man is judged and all have left the Fiery Lake, their sins purged from them, you shall remain forever tortured and forever alone. You may think that your sin is forgivable. There is no forgiveness. You may think that your sin is excusable. It is not. You thought that your position left you safe to do as you wished. You were wrong. The stain of what you tried to do can never be burned away and so you are forever unfit for the Fields. I sentence you to an eternity in the Fiery Lake. That is my judgement."

The spirit of the dead man tried to resist the pull downwards into the ground. It screamed curses, epithets and pleas for mercy in only the way a spirit could. Without any need for breath, it merely shouted an unceasing stream of the stuff. Then it was gone, sucked down into the ground. Down to the lake of fire. All that remained in the well appointed parlor was Maureen Mathers, who stood in front of Brianna and over the well dressed man who was missing the back half of his head, though its splattered remnants were not far away. They decorated the wooden walls. His bodyguards had been dispatched and rapidly judged just beyond the door. There were no witnesses save for Shepherd and Steward.

Maureen didn't turn around to comfort her friend. Instead she squatted down and lifted his bloody shirt. There they were, two stab wounds, one in the chest and one in the side. Brianna had defended herself well. The Shepherd stood back up to her full height, aimed carefully, cocked the hammer of her pistol and blew ragged holes in the dead man's body with her .45 caliber single action revolver. Unlike normal, Brianna didn't feel the sharp crack of sound rush through her body or hear ringing in her ears. That was curiously absent. Instead, Maureen Mathers, Shepherd of One Tree County, turned around. For the briefest instant, Brianna saw the remnants of sternness on her face, hard and cold, framed by straight, red hair that spilled from under her black bowler. The Shepherd's face broke first into concern and then shame as she looked upon Brianna, but she put a brave smile on.

"I'm sorry, but I won't be able to patch you up," said Maureen, quickly. "I need to stay. Go find my blood maker. Use it and destroy it afterwards so it doesn't make a record."

Pain nestled in Brianna's heart as she realized what Maureen was about to do. Maureen gently placed her hands on either side of Brianna's battered and tear streaked face.

"You were never here. You were walking the wheel. I left you a day ago to render judgement in Iron Hill. That's all you know," said Maureen. "Use the blood maker, ride all night back to your wagon like I know you can and be far from this place. Now go before people come. It won't be long."

Brianna, robbed of her words by pain and loss, both present and soon expected, got up. Unsteadily, legs wobbling, Brianna straightened up and hobbled towards the door. Despite herself, she looked back. Maureen's smoking gun was pressed under her own chin. The smoke curled up one side of her face. There was that shame again. Not at what she was about to do, but that she'd been too hasty and had been caught.

"It's all for you," whispered the Shepherd.

Maureen was smiling as the barrel of the gun burned her chin.

"Get going," said Maureen.

"But..." began Brianna.

More coughs wracked her chest and stole her weak retort

"Go!" exclaimed Maureen. "Now! Make this mean something!"

Unsure of what else to do, Brianna stood there as she looked at her friend for a long moment. Then she turned away from her friend. Her heart felt torn into pieces as Brianna limped away. Then, as was always the case, the last thing she heard in her dream was the sound of a gunshot.

Brianna's eyes flew open, and in the light of the moon she saw Maureen Mathers. Her face was in shadow, but she'd recognize that hat anywhere. She reached upwards to touch her. It had all been a dream. Brianna realized that it had all been a bad dream.

"Maureen!" she exclaimed. "Moe, it's really you!"

The figure drew back on reflex and that was when Brianna remembered herself. Heartache all over again as hope was dashed by the dream, briefly restored and dashed again.

"You were having a bad dream," said Roy, cautiously. "I thought I'd wake you up, but I wasn't sure how."

Brianna couldn't see his eyes, only his profile as lit by the moon. However, she could feel his gaze upon her. She folded her hands over her small chest as she suddenly felt naked before him, though she was still in her clothes and under a blanket.

"Right. Sorry to bother you," said Brianna. "Thanks for your attention. I'm fine now."

"I'll just get back on watch," said Roy, awkwardly.

"No, it's fine. I don't want to go back to sleep. You get some rest," said Brianna.

"Are you sure?" asked Roy.

"Yeah," said Brianna.

Hours later when she was sure that Roy was asleep, she spoke to herself. This was her nightly ritual since Maureen Mathers saved her and then took her own life. It was to remind Brianna of who she was in the absence of the person who knew her best.

"My name is Brianna Kendler," she began. "I am the Steward of the One Tree. I am fifty-three years old, though I don't feel or look it. Wife of...Of..."

Her heart skipped a few beats and she groped for his name, but sighed as she remembered.

"James Kendler, now deceased. Mother of Jules Kendler. Still alive. Friend of Maureen Mathers," said Brianna, who slowed.

She sniffed and wiped away a tear, but she was unable to wipe away her self-loathing.

"Who I abandoned," she completed.

She gulped hard and clutched herself.

"My name is Brianna Kendler," she began again.

And she began again. And again. And again. She reminded herself of who she was lest she forget.

No CYOA right now. Just wanted to get this out there.

Brianna found her trouble and gains two experience points.

Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at Apr 23, 2018 around 01:09

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

Ice Phisherman posted:

Brianna found her trouble and gains two experience points.

Understatement of the year.

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

Green Intern posted:

Understatement of the year.

Oh good. I didn't overdo it.

I was worried it was too much.

jagadaishio
Jun 25, 2013

I don't care if it's ethical; I want a Mammoth Steak.


Huh. I'm glad Roy gets Mathers's notes after all.

Deadmeat5150
Nov 21, 2005

OLD MAN YELLS AT CLAN




I find myself using that a lot.

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

So. Was Mathers ever sent onwards? I知 guessing that痴 a big No.

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

Green Intern posted:

So. Was Mathers ever sent onwards? I知 guessing that痴 a big No.

The implication as she was the only Shepherd for the entire county is that no, she wasn't. I'm going to be expanding more on what that means in later updates.

Toughy
Nov 29, 2004

KAVODEL! KAVODEL!


Why did Mathers have to commit suicide?
Was it the price to pay for the bad curse?
Was the rich man too powerful and she didn't want Bri pulled into the revenge?
Does a Shephard have to commit suicide after taking so many lives?
Or did she do something taboo to Shepherd-ism and that is the price?

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

Toughy posted:

Why did Mathers have to commit suicide?
Was it the price to pay for the bad curse?
Was the rich man too powerful and she didn't want Bri pulled into the revenge?
Does a Shephard have to commit suicide after taking so many lives?
Or did she do something taboo to Shepherd-ism and that is the price?

I'm glad you're curious, but I'm purposefully not explaining things to create that sense of curiosity. I'll be talking answering many of these questions over the course of the story.

malbogio
Jan 19, 2015


Ice Phisherman posted:

The implication as she was the only Shepherd for the entire county is that no, she wasn't. I'm going to be expanding more on what that means in later updates.

From the first post: "One of your guild mates from a neighboring county came by to judge him and picked up the slack while you were being sent. I saw to his burial. It was a shame. I liked Shepherd Mathers. He was a good man," she said.

malbogio
Jan 19, 2015


Toughy posted:

Why did Mathers have to commit suicide?
Was it the price to pay for the bad curse?
Was the rich man too powerful and she didn't want Bri pulled into the revenge?
Does a Shephard have to commit suicide after taking so many lives?
Or did she do something taboo to Shepherd-ism and that is the price?

Maybe an eternal sentence to the fiery lakes is forbidden. It sounded like most sentences to the fiery lakes were far shorter.

I was assuming the suicide was to prevent interrogation. The gunshots into the dead spiritless body were almost certainly through the stab wounds to remove traces of Bri痴 presence. That Bri and Mathers didn稚 discuss running suggests that Mathers knew they壇 already signed their death warrant. Unsure if that was for the murder of someone powerful though or for a taboo which was broken in the process. That Bri痴 acts of self defense would need to be so thoroughly concealed suggest the judged was particularly powerful. I wonder if Iron Hill lost a mayor or member of the mayor痴 family recently.

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

malbogio posted:

From the first post: "One of your guild mates from a neighboring county came by to judge him and picked up the slack while you were being sent. I saw to his burial. It was a shame. I liked Shepherd Mathers. He was a good man," she said.

drat, screwed something up.

Apologies. Mathers is supposed to be a she, not a he. The rest of the information is correct though.

This is a rough draft after all. Sometimes I mess up. :X

malbogio
Jan 19, 2015


Ice Phisherman posted:

drat, screwed something up.

Apologies. Mathers is supposed to be a she, not a he. The rest of the information is correct though.

This is a rough draft after all. Sometimes I mess up. :X

No worries! The writing is superb. I致e been digesting these as they come out and preloading Blake痴 on my phone for when I have no internet.

Would note though that in the first post Bri says Mathers was already judged but the quoted response suggests Mathers wasn稚 judged yet, so was wondering if going back for a retcon would be better for the story or if Bri was just being an unreliable narrator (she appears to have plenty of secrets to keep after all).

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

malbogio posted:

No worries! The writing is superb. I致e been digesting these as they come out and preloading Blake痴 on my phone for when I have no internet.

Would note though that in the first post Bri says Mathers was already judged but the quoted response suggests Mathers wasn稚 judged yet, so was wondering if going back for a retcon would be better for the story or if Bri was just being an unreliable narrator (she appears to have plenty of secrets to keep after all).

I'll note that she said someone went to judge her, not that she'd been judged yet. Brianna wouldn't have returned to the scene of the crime.

I'm doing something different. I like to experiment. Mathers is definitely dead, but dead means something different when you can linger around the earth until judged. She's going to be a sort of secondary character in the series for a while as we get access to her notebook. Also, she's still earthbound until she is judged. She only goes to the Fields or the Fiery Lake at the discretion of another person. Mathers isn't going to fly about like some sort of ghost, but her presence is going to linger in the form of the book at the very least as her friendship was formative on Brianna.

In short, the secondary character is going to be the book which I'll be introducing in the next update. They're going to be the unguarded words of someone who has been traveling with Brianna for about thirty years.

Further, Brianna can't fully educate Roy on how to be a Shepherd to the county. She can help with the customs and explain some stuff. The notes are going to be a big part of what helps Roy navigate his role as Shepherd as there's going to be some culture shock. If he'd taken the medical kit, he wouldn't have access to that and would fumble around a lot more. However, he'd also be a better healer which is half of his job and it would give us some insight into the world as well.

So it's not just a +2 item (I'll post the sheets and items at some point soon, sorry about that), but depending on what everyone picked, I'd reveal different parts of the story. We're lacking the information from the medical kit, called a blood maker and have gained the information from the book. I like making choices have unintended consequences. Even small choices impact the narrative. The book isn't just a book. The kit isn't just a kit. They also impact the story beyond merely being useful. I like making my stories dense with meaning, some of it blatant and some of it subtle.

I also often use what's called, "Unreliable narration". The characters don't know everything. They only know what they know. A Shepherd did come from a neighboring county to pick up the slack and did come to judge Maureen. That's all that Brianna really knows as she wouldn't have willingly returned to a place where all of that awfulness happened.

Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at Apr 23, 2018 around 08:16

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?




I don't think we're on Blake Island anymore.

I like it Ice, you're giving me 1000% of that daily recommended dose of Western Grit.

Also, Brianna is 53 and doesn't appear to be aging? Dru. Id.

Deadmeat5150 posted:



I find myself using that a lot.

Yep.

Groetgaffel
Oct 30, 2011

Groetgaffel smacked the living shit out of himself doing 297 points of damage.

Nap Ghost

A combination of and would be pretty appropriate here.

Deadmeat5150
Nov 21, 2005

OLD MAN YELLS AT CLAN


Dont forget to post in the CYOCYOA thread.

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

Roy

Roy was rousted out of sleep by smell. Something good, which he couldn't immediately place. Sound came next. Something bubbled. He realized what the smell and sound meant. He groaned happily in response.

He first opened one eye and then the other as his conscious mind was followed his senses. It had lagged only a few seconds behind his sense of smell. Just within reach was a plate of food. Beyond that he spied a steaming kettle containing what he assumed was coffee. It percolated on the portable alcohol stove. Roy yawned, stretched and sat up. With his real hand he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and with his steel hand, he picked up the plate. Upon it sat a cup of last night's rabbit soup, a boiled egg, two fat, warm sausages and a large piece of corn bread. He stared uncomprehendingly at the plate for a time, for he wasn't used to food that he didn't make for himself. There was a moment of panic as he thought he was touching someone else's food, but no, this was meant for him. After all, he'd helped prepare the rabbit so he'd done his part last night. That was the rational part of him which meant that he was fully awake. Brianna must have fixed him breakfast. The small act of service touched his heart. No one had cooked for him since his mother died. The unexpected kindness threatened to make his day.

He looked up and saw Brianna making the horses ready for travel. What struck him then was that she was no longer in her red and white checkered top and skirt. Instead she wore something brown from head to ankles, along with brown boots. It looked like loose fitting hide of some sort. It was obviously too big for her as much of it was loose. He could see what looked like a hood, though it wasn't pulled up. Her straight, black hair was tucked into the outfit instead of hanging free. Roy couldn't help but stare as it looked a little comical.

Strange clothing aside, she was in the process of unhooking the horses from the steel fastenings that were embedded in the canyon walls some ways away. Each horse was fed, watered, brushed and talked to. There seemed to be a sort of ritual to the acts mixed with care as she gave each horse a few minutes of her time. After some deliberation he decided to leave her be. There was something about that ritual that looked too personal to interrupt, or so he thought. It struck him strangely that he thought this way, but that thought slipped away. It was replaced by thoughts of the gnawing hunger in his belly and the nearby meal.

Roy combed his thick, brown hair with his fingers and realized that on top of that bath his hair needed a trim as well. He'd been hoping to get that bath in Iron Hill but that hadn't been in the cards. However, the meal he'd been hoping for was right here in front of him. He set his bowler hat back on his head, folded his thin blanket and bedroll and spied a cloth to pick up the kettle with. Instead of using it, he picked up scalding hot handle of the kettle with his steel hand and poured himself a cup of strong smelling coffee. He put a nearby metal plate over the stove to smother the flame and began to dig in to his breakfast.

He cracked the shell of the egg and picked off the pieces. Upon some thought, reached into his Shepherd's pack and used a bit of his salt. It was normally for weakening hostile spirits, but otherwise it was just plain old salt and a little on the egg to flavor it wouldn't do any harm to his stocks so long as he only used a little. The sausages were warm, meaty and succulent. He wished that there were more. The cornbread was cold, but sweet. He didn't eat it all at once. Instead he drank the last of the soup from the cup, which was cold. Strangely it tasted better when cold despite thinking it was pretty good yesterday. He used the cornbread to clean the bowl of the soup and the plate of the sausage grease. Each of the two tastes complimented one another, meat and sweet.

Now that he was fed, the coffee was cool enough to drink. It was strong, black and warmed his belly and bones as he partook of it. Now that his attention was off his breakfast plate, his gaze traveled out further. He stared up at the rock walls of the badlands. Their brown and red striations were fascinating. He'd seen them only as scenery before, but now he really looked at them. He'd never seen such things out east as the part of the country where he was from was largely flat. A sense of smallness settled upon him, like he was in the presence of something great and uncaring. For the briefest of instants It helped put his life in perspective. Here he was at the edge of the known world surrounded by tall hills and mountains, eating good food and traveling with someone who treated him decently.

"Somehow banishment doesn't seem so bad," he whispered, to himself.

He sipped his coffee, stood up and approached Brianna. He felt like ritual was now complete and so approaching no longer felt wrong. She turned and smiled at him.

"Thank you for the meal," he said.

"You're very welcome," she replied. "We'll switch off on cooking duties if that sounds fair to you."

Roy nodded.

"It does, though I'm not the best. I'll break camp," he said.

"Normally that sounds fair, though I'll show you where everything goes today," she said. "I'm particular about where everything is. Otherwise I'd have a hard time finding anything in my wagon."

Roy nodded again and he looked at her brown clothing. He saw what looked like white beads strung around her neck. Again he stared at her and this time she noticed that he was staring. After some fumbling with what to say, he asked a question.

"Are those some sort of pajamas?" he asked, awkwardly.

Brianna cleared her throat. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink.

"No. This is...Uh..." she began, her voice just as awkward. "Trading outfit. Look, it's just weird."

Unable to stop himself, Roy asked another question.

"Doesn't that get hot?" he asked.

She snorted indelicately and nodded.

"Yeah, it really does," she said, honestly. "Which is why I want to get to Esfuerzo before high sun. I don't feel like sweating in this thing. It gets itchy. But it also takes some time to get into. Again, it's weird."

"Why do you wear it then?" he asked.

"It's traditional," she explained, her tone long suffering. "Look, you have all sorts of questions and I'll answer what I can, but how about we break camp and talk on the way? The town isn't getting any closer."

"Okay," he said.

She turned around, paused and then turned back to face him.

"I look really dumb, don't I?" she asked, slowly.

Roy carefully weighed his words, but saw a smile playing on her lips. The laughter that he'd been suppressing bubbled out of her, and her lighter, more musical laughter joined his own.

"Yeah, just a bit," said Roy, honestly.

Brianna hummed happily.

"Really dumb," said Brianna. "Thanks for being honest with me."

Roy nodded and Brianna nodded in return. No more was said about it. She showed him her particular way of breaking camp and where to store everything in her Conestoga wagon. Since the wagon was bowed in the middle to keep things from shifting about, if items weren't stored in a particular way the balance of the contents would shift about, so there was a purpose and a method to what she was doing. A short time later everything was ready and Brianna had a book in her hands, retrieved from the cart. She saddled her horse closest to the wagon, called the wheel horse, as that was where she steered from. Roy mounted the horse just to her right. Then she turned slightly to look at Roy and presented him with an book with a leather binding.

"You're um..." she began, her voice rough. "You're going to need this."

It was so heavy that she had to hold it with both hands. The pages were real paper and it seemed well taken care of. Not a yellow page in sight and the leather wasn't cracked a bit. He tried to take the book, but she held on to it despite his gentle tug.

"This belonged to Mathers," said Brianna, seriously. "You know your business, but this isn't like out east. That's what she would tell me from time to time. I can't teach you how to be a Shepherd out here. I can help you with the people and the land, but not how they relate to your job. Mau..."

Her voice broke and she began again.

"Mathers can," she finished. "Or at least her words can help. I marked a few places that you may want to read. I'll be steering so you can read. I couldn't sleep last night so I decided to make myself useful. I found what I could on the Horse Clan and some pages for you to read on the way. I want you to take real good care of that book. I don't have much left of her."

Roy nodded slowly, but that didn't seem good enough for her to release the book into his care. He thought about it and spoke.

"I promise that I will do everything I can to protect this book," he said, seriously. "Thank you for your help."

She released the book into his care and looked away from him. She pulled up the hood and he saw what looked like horse ears on top, the comparison was made easy by the fact that they sat astride and behind so many of them. Roy made a mental note of this but she spoke before he could ask.

"I'd like some quiet for a while if that's okay," she said, quietly.

"That sounds just fine," he responded.

Nothing more was said. She flicked the reigns, made a noise and the horses began to pull the cart towards the town of Esfuerzo.

Maureen

Arrived in One Tree County today. rear end end of the world. Banished. Powers that be don't like a Shepherd that speaks her mind. That calls them out on their greed and bullshit. So here I am. Ride wasn't too terrible. Been assigned to Brianna, who is supposedly in charge of that big drat tree in the distance. Tallest living thing I've ever seen. Brianna is a young thing, small, dark haired, maybe early twenties. Supposedly she knows the county and the canyons like the back of her hand, but she's shy. Good cook though and she knows the land. Timidness is off-putting, but it could be worse.

Good thing about being banished is that I can run this place like I like. No one to tell me no. Closest Shepherd is weeks away by horseback. Brianna tells me that the people out here are different. That they're used to their ways. Well they better get used to my ways.

- Maureen Mathers, October 25th, 486 AE

Roy

Roy looked over at Brianna whose face was obscured by the hood with the horse ears. The ears were laid back flat on the hide hood and there was even a little black hair on top, like a horse's mane. There was a question on his lips, but she wanted quiet. The day's date, unless he was mistaken, was April 14th, 516, After Empire. This hadn't been bookmarked. He'd decided to read the beginning. He read a few more passages, but most of them were filled with angry swearing at being banished which he sympathized with, though not so colorfully. The obvious two options were that Brianna was either a different Brianna, which was possible, or that she'd gotten her hands on some sort of life extending drug scavenged from the old empire. Their ruins did contain wonders, though life extension was beyond rare. However, with enough ironwood she could definitely purchase something like that given time. He wasn't sure what to think of it as he'd never met someone who'd extended their life before.

He tabled his questions for the time being and opened to one of the bookmarked pages near the front of the book. He took the leather bookmark with the bright red tassel from between them and stowed it in a pocket so he wouldn't lose it.

Maureen

Brianna tells me that the people of the Horse Clan have barely changed their way of life in hundreds of years. Herding is what these people do and the Horse Clan is part of some sort of bigger tribe which extends far to the south. Horse Clan is made up primarily of smaller family clans. The women are largely settled, which means that they farm, trade, rear children and do specialty work, though not all settled people are women. There are some artisans or men who are too old or injured to ride.

The men are called a "vaquero" or "vaqueros" if there are more than one. At first I didn't understand what that meant, but Brianna knows. Apparently it is a word from the Horse Clan's largely forgotten language, called "old clan". It means cowboy. These men are largely nomadic and tend to their herds, though what kind of herd depends on the family as breeding stock is passed from father to son, generation to generation. Horses, cattle, sheep, goats and some sort of local domesticated deer called an antelope. Each family specializes in a certain kind of animal. They move from place to place, prairie to prairie, watering hole to watering hole, never taking more than the land can stand. That part was refreshing to me as I've seen the results of overgrazing on common land out east.

The vaqueros prize their skills as riders, herders and ropers. They're also supposedly real bastards in a fight, but I had to ask Brianna about that as she did not volunteer that information. Still timid. I'm told they are a proud people. Brianna warns me that I should never lie to them. Lying is taboo. I should act respectfully as grudges not only do not expire, but are passed from father to son. It is difficult to make amends for insults and if the insult is bad enough, I may be challenged to a fight. If the offense is grievous enough it may be to the death, which could start what she calls a blood feud. Even if I were to win I could still lose in the long run. An active blood feud could not only impact my ability as a Shepherd, but it could get me killed.

She asks that I bring gifts to anyone's house or business that I enter. They will not refuse the gift, but there is an art to giving. In return they will offer me something. Gifts to businesses are small. Gifts to households reflect the respect due to that household. The household in return will give me a gift and offer me protection while I am on their land. Even an enemy will defend me to the death if he or she offers me hospitality, which is signified by the exchange of gifts. Threats or harm to guests are seen as grave insults. Finally, there is a respect for the land that seems built into the culture. Grazing land, water and animals are to be respected as they are their livelihoods.

These are both their traditions and their laws. I found that curious at first. While there are no lawmen out here, Horse Clan lands are not lawless. No judge, no police, no prison. One might say that tradition is their law. Law is not from some government force, but springs from the traditions of the Horse Clan. Each man is the defender of himself and his honor as well as the defender of his family and their honor. Any man who does not do so is shamed, though failure does not result in shame as much as it does a lowering in regard, which I'm told is different. If there is enough shame built up the person will be expelled from the clan until they can be cleansed of their dishonor.

In fact, from what Brianna tells me after some prodding, when the government out east tried to push to create law out here some decades ago, the lawmen were driven off. Those who did not take the hint were killed. All of the clans are far enough away from what is considered civilization that there has not been another attempt for some fifteen years.

I am resolved to like these people.

- Maureen Mathers, October 29th, 486 AE

Roy

Roy read for hours. The passages were fascinating. Not only that, but he marveled at pieces of art. Some were in ink while others were pastel. As he flipped through the pages, he found a pastel painting of Brianna. There she was. The curves of her face, her petite figure, her brown eyes, her black hair, it was all there. However, her hair was very long in the picture he saw. Roy thought back and realized that her hat and hood could have concealed her hair. Long hair out here didn't seem practical for a traveler, but he wasn't from this place, so he wasn't sure.

He read for hours, but there was a lot to absorb and so he spent much of the time rereading passages. He was now almost completely convinced that Brianna was not the age she appeared to be unless this were some sort of elaborate trick, which he found unlikely. That he could ask about later and he focused instead on the now. He was about to meet an entirely new sort of people whose behaviors were different from any people he'd met back east. He realized that there was no law here and if he stepped wrongly around these people that would lead to problems. He ruminated on these facts for a time.

Then the horses turned through the canyons of the badlands and then there was just land. Beyond what little rocks there were as the canyons opened up, there were open fields for as far as the eye could see. Unlike the cities of the east, there was nothing to obstruct the view. Yellow-brown, blue and white. Short-grass prairie, sky and clouds. Other colors largely didn't exist. On the horizon, impossible to miss despite its smallness, was a town and leading up to that town was a road made from the same brown and red stones of the canyons.

"Do you have any questions?" asked Brianna.

Roy almost jumped. He'd been so deep in thought that he hadn't expected her voice. He looked to her but her face was obscured by the hood, the ears of the hood up.

"I uh...Yeah. Yeah, I do," said Roy, awkwardly.

Brianna said nothing and Roy cleared his throat.

"How do I keep from giving offense?" he asked.

She nodded slowly as she rode.

"Bring gifts. Speak in the positive. People will cut you a little slack as you are an outsider, but not much. But if you stay positive people are not likely to take offense. If you complain without knowing how to complain then you'll have problems. You're not a complainer, are you?" she asked.

"No," he responded.

"Good," she said. "That's very good. Anything else?"

"How long will we be staying?" he asked.

"Three days. Today you'll meet the settled people. Mostly women and children. Tomorrow the vaqueros will come and there will be a festival of sorts. They come back infrequently you see and this time of the year is special," she said.

"Why's it special?" he asked.

She shrugged lightly.

"It's complicated. Think of it as a harvest festival, but not of plants. We're going to be cooking up a lot of meat tomorrow," she said, and then with an edge of dry humor, "If you're feeling adventurous, you can eat some of it. Oh, and if you're going to be drinking, don't drink too much until you know how to deal with them. Keep your wits. Clear tequila for men if you want a drink. Not the red."

"Why not red?" he asked.

"It's for women," she responded. "Don't get laughed at."

"Oh," he said.

She pointed into the distance at the houses.

"We'll be staying in the stone house at night. There's only one stone house. The rest is adobe. However, you have your duties and so do I. I'd suggest going by the dry goods shop. Tina was nice to Mathers so she might be nice to you. She'll let you know what's going on in town. I'm going to be busy all day so I won't be able to help you. Sorry about that. We can talk tonight," she said.

"Huh, so I'm on my own?" he asked.

"What, want me to hold your hand?" she teased.

Roy smirked and shook his head.

"No, I'm pretty used to this. Different place, different people, same responsibilities," he said.

"That's right. Besides, you won't be completely alone. You'll have Chuck," said Brianna.

"Who's Chuck?" asked Roy.

Brianna clucked her tongue at him.

"You've been sitting on his back for days now and you don't even know his name," she teased. "Shameful."

Roy shook his head and grinned. Chuck the horse, who recognized his name, swiveled one of his ears around as that name was called. Roy patted Chuck on the head whose ears flicked forwards once again.

"You don't have a horse right now and you might need to travel. There are a lot of scattered farms around here that the settled people work. Ask Tina for a guide if you need to go anywhere specific," she said.

"Thank you," he said.

"Not a problem. Now not to be offensive, but these people are particular about their trading," she said. "I'll need to be left alone. Not that you're not all right, but that's just how things are. Got it?"

"Got it," he responded.

"Good," she said.

The town of Esfuerzo had eight main buildings which Brianna pointed out and a bunch of outbuildings which she did not. The town seemed empty at the moment, though there were some plumes of smoke from chimneys. The furthest away and downwind was the blacksmith which she pointed to first.

"That's the blacksmith's shop and forge. It's considered a low profession out here, but necessary," she said. "They work with fire and iron. They're said to have one foot in the Fiery Lake and are considered to be bad tempered people."

"Like me," said Roy, his tone resigned.

"No. First of all, you don't seem like a bad tempered sort. Now I could be wrong. Am I wrong?" she asked.

"No, you're not wrong," he said. "I keep my temper."

"Good! Anyway, you are higher on the social hierarchy than a blacksmith," said Brianna. "It's complicated. People won't treat you badly here, but try not to make a lot of assumptions. Listen much, say little, hear everything, like my grandmother says. Anyway, there's also a miller. He mills wheat and dye. They make a kind of red dye out here that's a big export. There's a leather worker. They'll do repairs, but this place isn't big enough to make leather crafts. There's a potter and an adobe maker, which is a kind of mud brick that the houses around here are made from. It's also post office as well since they have to fire the clay letters, though there's not a lot of use for post."

"Not big enough for a normal post office, I suppose," said Roy.

"Nope," she said. "The animal trader will be obvious as there will be animals outside. You won't be able to buy anything until the people here like you, but Mathers was able to win these people over enough to buy stuff back in the day. If you're well mannered it shouldn't take long. Be polite, be reliable, be straightforward and they'll do business with you. Oh and uh...There's a midwife who also takes care of animals and she keeps people alive long enough to be seen by you if they're injured."

"Is that sanitary?" said Roy.

"Not really, but it's what they've got. Doctors are for bigger towns. Don't complain though. We talked about this," chastised Brianna. "If you need to correct someone, talk to me first, but don't expect people to change on your say-so just because you think you know better than them. Especially if you know better than them. People don't really like being corrected."

"Right," said Roy.

"Good. That's Tina's dry goods store. Go there. Bring a gift. Small. You got something from out east you can share?" she asked.

"I can figure something out," said Roy.

"Good. Need me to get Chuck out of his harness?" she asked.

"I can do that," said Roy. "Don't bother yourself."

"Well that's great," she said, approvingly. "The stone house is in the middle of the main buildings. You can't miss it. You'll be able to sleep in a real bed."

"Any chance of a bath?" asked Roy.

"I'll make a request for some water," she said, and then more teasingly. "Need me to scrub your back?"

Roy cleared his throat.

"No. I don't think that will be necessary," he said, seriously.

Brianna snorted out a small laugh.

I'll see you at dusk," he said.

"See you then," she said.

They spent a few minutes in silence as the rolled into town. Roy released Chuck from his harness. Chuck was a large, brown draft horse, meant for hauling, not speed. Still, the horse was known to Roy and they'd been getting along so far. So when he pulled Chuck away, the horse came with. He tied Chuck to the metal hitching post outside of the adobe dry goods store. Chuck drank from the horse trough. Roy searched through his pack, found a small bottle of bitter, which was a sort of medicinal alcohol. He sniffed it and the heavy aroma of alcohol, herbs and orange peel wafted out of it. He'd known to bring a number of oddities from back east both for a taste of home and possibly to barter with and that preparation looked as if it would pay off. He stoppered the small bottle and walked into the dry goods store.

The walls of the adobe building were plain from the outside, but inside the dry goods shop was simply, but expertly put together. Roy closed the metal metal door behind him which was cooler than the heat of the day. Inside there were all sorts of dry foods that lined the walls in glass bottles and aluminum barrels. They were the sorts of food that could keep in the heat without going bad: Dried beans, flour, whole grains, rolled oats and what he assumed were local foods which he couldn't identify. There were cured meats behind a glass case, small amounts of candy in jars along with blankets, shirts, pants, spools of yarn as well as some sort of red powder in jars, though that was behind even the glass case. A woman sat behind the counter in well made, dress and blouse, both dyed a dark red. The woman was older, husky, had jowls and age lines, though the age lines seemed to be winning and she was brown skinned. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun and that had streaks of grey running through it. She sat behind the counter and called out without looking up

"Welcome!" she said, politely.

She put down her knitting, stood up and brushed off her dark red skirt.

"What can I..." she began.

She noticed Roy in his Shepherd's clothing, green and black, with his telltale wooden staff. She began again.

"Shepherd," she said, her voice a few degrees colder.

This was what Roy was used to. The coldness. The social distance as well as the real distance of being untouchable. He walked up to the counter and put the small bottle of orange bitter on top of it.

"Hello madam," began Roy, politely. "I am the new Shepherd for the county, Roy Whitaker. I was told to bring a gift and so here it is. Orange peel bitter, good for your health and not that bad tasting. I was told to see you."

She pursed her lips as she looked at the tiny, brown bottle. The taboo of touching a Shepherd extended to their tools, not their possessions. Other items could be taken or exchanged. However, she did not offer a gift in response, which confused him. Instead she spoke.

"So there was another Shepherd that came through about two weeks ago," said Tina, coolly.

"Is that so?" asked Roy.

"It is," she said. "Shepherd Ignacio if I recall correctly. Talked a lot, looked at one of our injured and from what I hear, he sure did cluck his tongue a lot and did little else. Meanwhile, a few years ago, three people from Iron Hill: A man, a woman and a little girl, decided to homestead on one of the old farms around here after asking the clan. The husband died two years ago. He was judged properly by your predecessor, who is sorely missed. The woman and little girl died three weeks ago of cholera. When he left town, he did so in the opposite direction of their homestead despite insisting he would go there. Meanwhile, midwife Cecilia is still tending to the horse trader's son. He was the one who was clucked at. He's been having a hard time breathing ever since he got kicked by that big bastard of a horse. I think it's an Appaloosa. So Mr. Whitaker, what shall you be doing today?"

Roy pursed his lips and Tina waited for his answer. Negligence wasn't uncommon in Shepherds. Older ones tended to use the younger ones to do grunt work. The fact that Shepherd Ignacio was seen and did nothing bothered Roy, but he wasn't at all surprised.

"I need to think," he said, slowly. "About which is more critical. I will tell you that I will be doing my duty. I take that duty very seriously, madam."

Tina's frown thawed a bit, but only a bit. She nodded, reached into a jar and put three pieces of square, red candy, dusted white on the adobe counter.



"That's lovely to hear, Mr. Whitaker. I look forward to hearing of your exploits. Enjoy your gumdrops. I make them here in the shop out of prickly pears. And before you ask, I take the prickles out," she said, dryly. "I'll have something special for you when I hear of your successes."

She tapped one of the gumdrops with her index finger.

"When, Mr. Whitaker," she said, sharply.

"When," he repeated

"Good," said Tina.

She scooped up the tiny bottle of orange peel bitter and Roy looked at his gumdrops. He popped one in his mouth. He was reminded of a mellow tasting watermelon, though the rock sugar dusting on top gave it a slight, tart bite and crunch. He made a pleased noise and nodded at Tina, but she'd already gone back to her knitting and was no longer looking at him.

CYOA Time

So here are the more obvious choices. This list is by no means exhaustive, but these options (save for three) will take a day each. We're here for three days, and more options will appear on day two. So one of these options won't get done unless we spend an extra day which will make us late to the next stop.

1. We can tend to anyone who is ill in town. A Shepherd came by, was seen and then left. He did nothing. The midwife has been keeping the horse trader's son from getting worse, but he also isn't getting better. It seems that the one who was "assigned" to the county while Roy was being sent has been shirking his duty. He came, made noises about doing things and left without performing any of his duties. This is going to be a theme. Also, Roy isn't a cleric from D&D. He can't heal with a touch. He's an actual doctor. His magic on the other hand is 100% death magic. Think of a white hat necromancer. He doesn't heal people by laying on hands. He can't cure people of diseases with words and prayers. Nor can he restore limbs. Nothing. His power keeps people from dying when they otherwise should. So if Roy was protecting someone, they could say, lose all of their blood and still survive to make new blood so long as he was there to help them. Otherwise he tends to them like a normal doctor would. Tending to the people will take a day. He can also seek trouble with this option. See three and four.

2. There were two deaths on one of the farms which is about three hours away on horseback. Roy can get a guide up there and back as Brianna is busy. A woman and a little girl died of cholera about three weeks ago. A month is when ghosts begin to go "hungry" under normal circumstances though this can be quickened or lengthened by means I'll go into later. Hungry doesn't mean that they eat people. It means something else which I'll reveal later. No flesh eating zombies in this Western. This is a moderate priority, but it could wait. However it does indicate a problem which again is going to reinforce the theme of negligence. The Shepherd who was supposed to see to people in the county didn't judge their souls. He just left after showing up and lied about about it too which is a big problem. This will take a day. This option will preclude any immediate experience gains. It's his duty. He's supposed to do this.

--

3. We can seek trouble. This would be paired with option 1. Brianna is the closest thing to a friend that Roy has out here. We can linger a bit to see what's going on with her. She's dressed strangely and told Roy not to bother her while trading. In fact she seems uncomfortable with being watched, but we can learn something. This will take only about half an hour, but watching her and then asking when she's obviously uncomfortable and trying to get send Roy away will test their relationship. If Roy fails their relationship will go down by one on her end, though Roy will stay the same. The target number is 9 and we have a +1 bonus from relationship and +2 from the book. The dice in PDQ are 2d6, so there is still a statistically significant chance that he can fail, but he's a bit more likely to succeed. If Roy fails, we won't be able to improve relations the next time they travel as Brianna won't want to talk to him. So it's not just experience that would be lost, but time.

Success: 2 experience and some information about Brianna.
Failure: Information is still gained, but it will be incomplete. -1 relationship and relationship won't be able to be improved for a while. We still get the experience though. Trouble always brings experience, pass or fail.

4. We can seek other kinds of trouble. Again, Roy is lonely. He wants to talk to people. We can try to improve relations with the Horse clan by talking to people while he doctors them. This means meeting the "settled" people which Roy isn't good at. We'll get +2 to this roll for having the book on hand. The target number is 7 as Roy doesn't really understand honor culture yet and he is a stranger. He'll do this while doctoring people.

Success: 2 experience and the ability to improve relations with the Horse Clan (which will cost 1 experience). They'll actually begin to sell items to us if we improve relations. Until then, they won't sell anything to Roy. Please note that if Roy heals people and judges the mother and child successfully, he'll be able to raise his relationship with the Horse Clan without risking trouble.
Failure: -1 relationship to the horse clan.

We can do 3 and 4 to get 4 experience, but if we do, the target numbers jump by 2. So not pissing off Brianna will be an 11 and talking to people will be a 9. This will be because Roy will be making more of a nuisance of himself.

Remember that you can vote more than once if you like more than one option!

--

The situation:

Brianna has lent Roy one of her draft horses so he can get about. It's not the fastest horse, but he can ride it. She encourages him to purchase a horse or a mule before they leave this place in a few days. Note that Brianna is not going to help him until nightfall when she's done trading for the day. She sent him to post office (who is also a potter and adobe maker) for directions. She's doing her own thing right now and is uncomfortable with Roy's presence for some reason that Roy has yet to grasp. Also she's wearing strange hide clothing.

I rolled 2d6 + 2 for the book and another +4 for Shepherd. Roy succeeds at reading the book. It wasn't hard. It's big, but Brianna was nice enough to bookmark some passages that mentions the town they're in. However, he read the first few passages instead of skipping straight to Brianna's bookmarks.

Roy has also learned that Brianna is old. That's weird. Really weird. Both eyebrows raised weird. She looks like she's in her early twenties but the date that Mathers first makes note of Brianna is thirty years ago. Life extension isn't unheard of as there are wonders that come out of the old empire ruins, but life extension is considered rare and expensive. Though someone who sells wood, especially ironwood, could afford such a thing. Life extension isn't a magic thing. It's a tech thing. Or at least Roy doesn't know of any magical life extension that the Shepherds could cast.

Location:

They're in the town of Esfuerzo (Es-Fuer-so), which is the "old clan" for the word "toil". It's a trading outpost that specializes in meat, dye, blankets and horses.

Esfuerzo has eight buildings, seven of which are adobe which is a local kind of mud brick and one made of brown and red canyon stone as well as a number of outbuildings. Six of the buildings are arranged around the stone one. The seventh building, the one that works with iron, is downwind and a hundred paces away as iron is considered a low profession even though it is necessary. People who work with both iron and fire are said to have bad tempers and are also said to have "one foot in the lake" due to the two element's relation to this world's hell.

So we're at the edge of Horse Clan territory. While its main purpose is to sell horses and meat, it also provides services to the vaqueros, or cowboys. Again, "vaquero" is an "old clan" word, which are the remnants of their old and mostly forgotten language. These are the "settled people". Most of them are women as the men are far more nomadic in their lifestyle as the land around them can't support constant grazing and water is sparse. Still, iron needs working, horses need shoeing, clay pots need making, adobe needs to be baked, post needs to be baked before it's sent (letters are commonly made of clay), barrels need forging (they're aluminum), saddles and other leather goods need maintenance (the town isn't big enough to make saddles, only repair them), wheat and dye needs milling, there's a dry goods store, a horse trader, a midwife who doubles as a veterinarian (which is just as sanitary as it sounds), a general animal trader and the stone building. Many of these services come from the same store. There are also a number of farms nearby which help feed the local community. Everything is flat and just dry enough that the cart can make it into town into a small market square.

Miller
Leatherworker
Adobe Baker/Potter/Post Office
Blacksmith
Dry goods store
Horse trader
Midwife/Vet
Stone building

There's also a small cottage industry here in red dye. The Cochineal bugs, which are a kind of grey shell bug that feed on Nopal cacti (note, nopal is an edible prickly cacti, and sort of tastes like green beans when prepared), produce a gorgeous red dye when dried, crushed and separated. The high quality wool and cashmere (goat wool) that are produced near here by the herds make for lovely, high quality, dark red blankets.

They're also for cosmetics. Women stain their lips and water down just a little on their cheeks when they're expecting their husbands as a sort of home grown lipstick. This "lipstick" isn't applied with via a stick or powder. Oh no. It's mixed with alcohol made from the agave fruit that you might know as "tequila" and is only meant to be drank by women. Though normal tequila can be drank by the men as well. Oh, and it's food safe. Not the tequila though. Tequila is of the Fiery Lake and not fit for human consumption, though humans regularly do anyway. They are silly creatures who should know better.

IRL the dye is also used in cosmetics and food coloring even today, it's natural red 4. To my knowledge it is not used in alcohol.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cochineal

Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at Apr 26, 2018 around 09:00

mcclay
Jul 8, 2013

Oh dear oh gosh oh darn


Soiled Meat

Day 1: Treat the dead
Day 2: Heal the wounded and Talk with the Locals (Seek Trouble 4.)

malbogio
Jan 19, 2015


1 & 4.

Bri asked for space, we can respect that for a while until curiousity gets the better of us.

I wonder if Bri痴 grandmother is still alive too.

JesterOfAmerica
Sep 11, 2015


2 Treat the dead
1 Tend to the ill

dont be mean to me
May 2, 2007

I'm interplanetary, bitch
Let's go to Mars




A 1, then 2
B 4

Ice Phisherman posted:

A month is when ghosts begin to go "hungry" under normal circumstances though this can be quickened or lengthened by means I'll go into later. Hungry doesn't mean that they eat people. It means something else which I'll reveal later. No flesh eating zombies in this Western.

Don't need a full briefing on this yet, but is this going to become relevant if we put the dead off for a single day for the sake of the living?

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

We'll always have our memories won't we? Those special memories that I値l always treasure. You, writhing from the jellyfish sting, me, urinating on the wound.

dont be mean to me posted:

Don't need a full briefing on this yet, but is this going to become relevant if we put the dead off for a single day for the sake of the living?

The longer the dead get put off, the worse their sanity gets. A day normally doesn't make the difference. If they've possessed a living person, that's bad, because ghosts have forgotten what it means to be alive and forget that the host has needs that a living person does to survive.

No zombies eating flesh. More ghosts forgetting what it means to eat.

jagadaishio
Jun 25, 2013

I don't care if it's ethical; I want a Mammoth Steak.


Treating the dead is our duty; start with that. Then tomorrow, the boy, and anyone else who's sick. Dealing with the loving should be easier once they know Roy's dutiful. Getting each of those done is critical, especially since having Ignacio to compare him against will make everyone's first impression of Roy 'one of the good ones.'

Nothingtoseehere
Nov 11, 2010


2, 4

Deal wity the dead, and to see some or that of the sweet Shepard magic.

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ThatBasqueGuy
Feb 14, 2013

someone introduce jojo to lazyb




2,4

Let's see hell

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