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Scion: Legends of the Wild West - Part 1b: For A Few Scions More


Ouroboros

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Cherry unobtrusively observed the other guests as they came in. She gave the mourners a quick glance, just long enough to take in their attire and its significance, and then moved on. The middle aged man with the spectacles was just as uninteresting, though Cherry still took the time to fix his presence and appearance in her mind as best she knew how.

At the appearance of the Southern Belle with the handsome Rogue on her arm, Cherry found herself struck by a rare bout of self-consciousness at her own entirely unladylike appearance. In all honesty, she rarely gave her attire or appearance a second thought these days, but then she also spent most of her time in far less 'civilized' settings where such things tended to matter much less. But now a small part of her couldn't help wishing that she looked a little less travel worn and a little more presentable.

Cherry was more than happy to allow her attention to be pulled away from the southern beauty (and her good looking escort) by the appearance of the final two dinner guests, and their discussion of work in San Francisco. She was half-tempted to strike up a little conversation with them, as she hadn't been out 'Frisco-way, or heard any real news of the place, for longer than she'd even realized until just then. She was still debating on whether or not to engage the two men, however, when the meal was interrupted by the mourning woman's sudden outburst.

Cherry's face was impassive as she watched the scene before her explode, and she even took a swig of her beer while the other woman wept. She wanted to keep her distance - physically and emotionally - from the two mourners and their personal tragedy, and she really didn't want to get even a little bit involved, and her expression showed it. But despite herself, Cherry was touched by their grief, and before she had time to stop herself she found herself speaking to the woman, "I'm terrible sorry for yer loss, ma'am. If ya don' mind me askin'; how long's the body been missin'?"

So much for 'uninvolved'. Oh well - maybe there'd be a bounty out for the corpse-thief.

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As though Cherry's question was reminding the woman anew, she promptly fainted, her eyes rolling until they were nothing but whites and them sliding limply out of her chair to the floor. The young man, her son one could only surmise, quickly clambered out of his chair and knelt beside her. "Pa's bin ina groun' less 'en ah week. We wen' ta see tha gravestone this morn' an' tha site was all dug up." He looked down at his mother, "Ma? Ma, wake up Ma!"

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Ian was up and out of his chair almost as quickly as the young man, though it took him a moment longer to reach her since he was at the other end of the table. He knelt down next to her and looked her over for a moment, then propped her up slightly with an arm and tapped her cheek lightly.

"Probably just a bit of a faintin' spell.. Ma'am? Ma'am, wake up, you're worryin' your boy here, and faintin' ain't gonna bring him back." He glanced up at Cherry and Cora. "Either of you ladies got any smellin' salts, per chance? If not someone go get the proprietress, surely she keeps some about the place."

His gaze flickered up, resting on Cherry again, and his lips twitched for the brief moment in amusement before he forced seriousness back into it.

"Perhaps next time, Miss, you might wanna refer to the deceased as 'Your Husband', or somethin' a little less traumatic than 'the body'."

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"Oh, my stars and garters!" Cora exclaimed in surprise as the woman collapsed, and promptly blushed prettily at her unintended reference to such unmentionables. "Ah've got some, Mistah Gallagher," she added hastily, sliding her chair back and hurrying over to the woman's side. From a tiny pocket in her skirt she withdrew a small brown glass bottle with a long green ribbon 'round the neck and a cork stopper. Gently removing the cork, she waved the bottle several times beneath the woman's nose; having had a case of the vapors once or twice herself, she was not of a mind to force the acrid scent of the ammonia on the poor widow too directly.

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Cherry watched the chaos unfold on the other side of the table with calm bemusement. When she saw that both the Belle and the Rogue were in such a hurry to come to the widow's aid, she took her time, and another pull from her mug, before working her way around to the other side of the table herself.

In response to the Rogue's quickly-concealed mischievous smile and gentle rebuke Cherry arched one eyebrow cooly at him (though she couldn't keep a slight smile from touching her own full lips for just a moment as well).

"Ain't no shame in callin' somethin' what it is", she answered, and refrained from adding 'Besides, she used the word first'. No sense in justifying herself unnecessarily.

Instead she walked around them and continued to the entryway back into the hotel's front lobby in search of the proprietress so that she could inform the woman of what'd just happened. Even though she'd put several feet of distance between herself and the Belle, Cherry's nose wrinkled in sharp distaste when the bottle of ammonia was opened. She tried jerking her head away from the smell, but it was no good - Belle might as well have been holding the bottle directly underneath her nose instead o' the widow's for all the difference it would've made. Cherry sincerely hoped the unconscious woman woke up quickly.

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As soon as the ammonia was under the woman's nose her eyes fluttered open and she coughed a little at the strong odor. "Mother? Are ya alright mother?" asked her concerned son from her side.

After a moment the woman nodded, "Yes, yes, Ah think Ah'm alright. Did AH faint? Ah'm sorry fur tha dramatics." With her son's help she sat up and then was helped back to her chair at the table. "Who'd do sumthin so horrible? Mah poor Stewart."

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Chrysanthemum ate with gusto, devouring the stew with transparently abundant delight. As she chewed the chicken, she looked up from the bowl and looked around, happy as a kitten in a bag. She winced a little at the acrid aftertaste of the ale, but even that seemed more a reflex than an expression of dislike.

"So," she started to say to Hadicall, "That's a pretty nice gun of your own you got there...oh!" She caught a snippet of conversation and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Didja hear that? About the dead guys comin' outta the ground? We could go to the old cemetery and see if it's true!"

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"Heh, yeah, she a beut'. Talks to damn much, but she's sweetheart all the same." He patted his hip as he chuckled slightly before looking over to the men having the conversation about the dead rising from their graves. "Yeah, I heard em'. Was considering taking a look myself."

He took a few more spoon fulls himself, washing it down with the same swill Chrys was drinking. We didn't want to sound rude and inadvertently suggest the young lady couldn't handle herself but he was an ass kickin', thunder tossin', Son-of-the-Big-Guy himself, Scion and she was... well... a blacksmith. And by the way she ate... a starved one at that. "Well, Miss, uh, Chrys, I'm not meanin' to sound disrespectful but I'm a man who can handle himself. Adventurin' and all that is something I do. You seem to have a nice business here, y'sure y'wanna throw all that away on the possibility that they could be right, an you could end up hurt?"

He managed to say it without telling her 'no, you can't come' but things like the dead and Titanspawn were best left to people 'like him' and not the locals. It was her life however, and she had to make the choice on her own.

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After the woman's son got her up and settled back in her chair, Ian stood up and made his way back to his seat, sitting down and letting the woman speak.

"No apologies necessary ma'am, I'm sure that's all been quite a shock for ya' ta deal with. I'll tell ya' what, I'll keep my eyes open while I'm here in town on business, an' if I find out anything to help you regardin' your husband, I'll be sure ta' let you know."

As her son consoled her, he leaned over and murmured quietly to Cora, loud enough for only the elegant and charming southern belle to hear.

"Don't suppose you happen to know if our mutual business has anythin' to do with disappearin' bodies, do you Miz Greene?"

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Cora frowned as she reluctantly retook her seat, though not unhappily. Ian had seen that expression on a fair few women in his time, and it almost always meant trouble; gears were turning behind the dark eyes that studied the mourning woman with a mixture of compassion and pity. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her head dipped in a nod of agreement.

"Ah believe that it does, Mistah Gallagher," she murmured in reply, then gently addressed the widow as she recovered.

"Ah'm very sorry for your loss, ma'am. Losin' a loved one is nevah easy, and I can scarcely imagine how difficult it must be for you, knowin' such an indignity has been committed against your dear departed husband," the young woman asked kindly. She paused for a moment, as if weighing her next question very carefully against the accepted social niceties. This part was moderately important, determining how much, if any, interference they were likely to have. "I hesitate to ask, ma'am, but have you requested the assistance of the law to aid you in your plight?"

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As had been the case for the entirety of recorded human history, the Help was nowhere to be found when they were needed. From the entryway into the lobby, Cherry could see that there was no one there, and as she could plainly hear the woman as she sputtered back to wakefulness, Cherry gave up and wordlessly returned to her seat. Once everyone was seated again she listened attentively to all that was said.

Cherry was near to putting the entire business from her mind as being little more than an unfortunate, interesting, but ultimately unprofitable bit of mystery when Rogue turned to Belle and asked his question about 'bodies' and 'mutual business'. She was careful not to let on that she'd heard anything, since his question had obviously been meant for the Belle's ears only, but Cherry's interest had just been thoroughly 're-piqued', as it were. She would need to keep an eye on these two.

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The proprietress reappeared from the kitchen bearing a tray with hot tea or coffee directly to the widow. "Here ya go ma'am, drink this, it'll help ya git back ta yer senses it will." The widow nodded her thanks and took the cup, sipping from it a few times before she nodded again gratefully as the color returned to her face.

The other dinner guests returned to their own seats in short order, the men and women both offering their condolences and sympathies. The the young Southern Belle asked, "I hesitate to ask, ma'am, but have you requested the assistance of the law to aid you in your plight?"

The widow looked to her son to answer and with a slight nod to her he did. "We spoke ta tha undertaker an' he sayd he knew nuthin' ov it. He was ratha gen-u-ine surprised. Twas late then an' we figgered to talk at tha sheriff tomarrah. Ah thank ya fer yer concerned intrest ma'am." He tipped an imaginary hat to Cora and then looked down at his dinner with an expression that spoke of his appetite being less that it had been minutes before.

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"Aw, well aintcha the sweet one?" Chrys said with a grin. She took a deep breath and let it out, just enjoying the aftermath of the meal for a second.

"More'n likely it's just some tall traveler tale, or someone got buried alive and had to dig their way out or somethin'. But don't you worry. I'll bring my hammer along just in case. We can swing by and pick it up on the way over the cematery."

"Besides, I ain't afraid too much of dead folk. It's the live ones you gotta watch out for."

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"Seems like as good an' idea as any - ah imagine the sheriff 'round about these parts has his hands full with a jail full of troublemakers, anyway - an' there probably ain't much he can do about it this time of night."

With that, Killian turned back to his meal and began to eat, most of the conversation of the table dropping back into small, private exchanges. For his part Killian was eager to finish his dinner (for appearance's sake, if nothing else), and then get out of there. If they hadn't spoken to the sheriff yet, then tonight was as good a time as any to try and deal with the situation, or at least find out how much Miss Cora Greene knew about the situation and go from there, before they had to deal with the law as well.

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Hadicall and Chrys finished their meals and beer and made their exit. Outside the night had quickly grown dark and the weather cool. The pair headed back towards Chrys' shop for her hammer and from there to the city's principle cemetery. The streets were busy with people moving from saloons to whorehouses, or from whorehouses to saloons. The occasional late rider moved on horseback but most walked through the cool evening.

Overhead the moon was nearing fullness and the clear sky allowed ample light to wash over the area. The cemetery was, as one would expect, empty of people. The grave markers, most small stone humps, scattered throughout by the occasional cross or larger monument, cast shallow shadows and the few lone trees whistled with the evening winds. The pair spent some time before finding the fresh graves, the soil freshly mounded up in front of the headstones. What appeared to be the most recently dug graves did not have neatly piled mounds. There were a pair of unmarked empty graves but one, with a temporary wooden cross, looked as though it had been dug up ... from the ground up.

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Cora nodded at the young man, smiling sympathetically, and finally turned her attention to her meal. It was robust, hearty fare, and while not seasoned to her preference, it was infinitely better than the alternative. As dinner continued awkwardly in relative silence, she tuned out the sound of clinking silverware and lost herself in thought.

If they hadn't gone to the sheriff yet, well, tonight would be the perfect opportunity to slip down to the cemetery and see what they could learn...

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The remainder of the meal passed in somber silence. The talk of death and a missing body seemed to have drawn all good cheer from the guests. Dinner ended in short order with the grieving family retreating to their room and the gentlemen moving to the parlor for drinks and tobacco. Cora and Ian exchanged a short nod and excused themselves to their respective rooms. Cherry readied herself quickly and then went out into the street to get some fresh air. When the other two scions exited the building together and headed off into the night Cherry followed.

Less than twenty minutes passed before Ian and Cora were moving through the dark cemetery looking for the grave of one Robert Wallace. When they found it they were surprised to be the third and fourth people there. Standing over the grave and inspecting the disturbed earth was a woman and a large man. The woman carried a large hammer, like that a blacksmith would use, and the man had a gun at his hip that seemed ludicrously large.

OOC: Cherry if you want to shadow them without being seen roll Dex + Stealth. Ian and Cora roll Perception + Awareness to notice Cherry following them.

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As she waited for the Belle and the Rogue to reappear and begin what she had a feeling was going to be an interesting night, Cherry stood outside the hotel in the dark and rolled herself a cigarette with some rather dried-out tobacco. When the strange duo exited the hotel and began their journey to... wherever it was they were going, Cherry made no move to follow them, instead watching them as surreptitiously as she could manage (which was very, considering that it was a few hours past sunset and it was already quite dark out). She finished her cigarette only a moment after Cora and Ian stepped out into the night, so she took the opportunity to disappear into the stable next door. She reappeared a moment later with her rifle strapped over one shoulder and saw that her marks had gotten about halfway down the street from her, so she began to amble down the street in, coincidentally, the same direction.

Cherry didn't particularly want to be seen by her targets as she followed them, but in truth she wasn't exactly the stealthiest young lady in the entire Wild West or anything (or she didn't think so at least), so her tactics really weren't any more involved than simply hanging back as far as she could and trying not to blatantly stare. On the other hand, her divinely-aided senses were sharp enough that, even in the dark of night, she could see and hear her marks just fine from a very long way off, which did make it easier to remain unnoticed.

Cherry wasn't especially surprised when they wound up at the town's cemetery, but she was a bit surprised to see that there were already some folks there who didn't look in the least like they belonged there either. What in the world was going on?

Click to reveal..
Stealth Roll: 5d10: [2,10,3,8,5] (+2sux from Epic Dexterity). 5sux total.
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Chrysanthemum hunkered down next to one of the unearthed graves, her smith's hammer leaning back over her shoulder as if it didn't weigh anything near the ten or twenty pounds it must have. She squinted in the dying twilight and waved a finger into it, pointing things out to Hadicall as she spoke.

"See how the bottom's all uneven and soft? That does kinda look like something inside dug itself out. The dirt'd sorta fall around it as it got out and pile up under it again. And look...there's these patterns of grooves here...and there...like fingers scraping away at the edges."

She pursed her lips. "Hoo. D'ya think someone got buried alive? Or maybe there really is somethin' to that story we heard."

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Click to reveal..
Perc + Aware to notice Cherry: 7d10 → [6,7,7,3,2,7,4] + 1 auto-suxx = 4 suxx. Result = fail.
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2458705/


As they walked Ian contemplated the situation, mulling over possible options and letting Cora talk (or not) as she chose to explain what she knew about the situation. Once they got to the cemetery however, he pulled Cora back and to the side of the church, glancing around the corner of the building and trying to keep silent so that they wouldn't be noticed by the strangers just yet. He leaned down and murmured to her quietly.

"Were we expectin' company that you were aware of, Miz Greene?"

Click to reveal..
Rolling for stealth to not be noticed by Chrys and Had just yet: 6d10 → [2,6,7,4,8,2] + 2 auto-suxx = 4 suxx
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2458732/
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Click to reveal.. (Why am I rolling this again?)

Per + Awa = (00:01:11) ChatBot: (Cora) rolls 6d10 and gets 5,8,3,6,9,9. 3 successes. Not enough.


Cora allowed herself to be led along, and when they arrived on the scene and Ian pulled her aside abruptly, she was so flustered that she completely forgot whether or not she'd explained to him what she knew about the situation. As her companion seemed preoccupied with other things, she simply shrugged it off and focused on the present.

"Not to my knowledge, Mistah Gallagher," she replied. "Why do you ask?"
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The Regulator of the Gods quirked an eyebrow. For a soot covered blacksmith who spent her time at a forge the girl could apparently track like an elven ranger, and from what Hadicall had heard, those elves were good at it too. "Uhh, I guess." he shrugged a bit. The science of how dirt falls and the way soil moves as people dig themselves out of the ground was not something he'd had a lot of experience in. To him it just looked like a bunch of dirt that vaguely resembled a grave.

"Wouldn't surprise me and it prolly wouldn't be the first guy buried alive in these parts either. Prolly cheated at a Faro and woke up just in time to dig before was plum outta breath." He didn't believe his own bullshit so was pretty sure the elven blacksmith wasn't buying it either. He looked about the area and gripped Betty softly. Slowly the electrum canon slid from the holster and it was unsheathed into the night air one by one Greek lettering carved into the barrel began to glow with energy. A crackle of electricity arced and danced over the gun's surface and writhed its way up Hadicall's heroically awesome and bulging bicep.

"Let's take a look around, Chrys." He muttered in a heroically cool yet gravely voice.

"Oh, would you knock it off you bumbling moron." A voice echoed in their vicinity, quickly Chrys realized it was the gun itself, the runes twinkled and pulsed in sync with the uttered syllables. It was a feminine voice that echoed with a matronly tone to it. "Spend less time trying to impress the filthy woman and more time focusing on the possibility that the dead may lurk here. And what have I told you about the gravely voice, hmm?"

The Scion rolled his eyes and went limp like a scolded child, sighing in dismay. "That I sound like an idiot..."

"Correct," The runes pulsed. "Now, let us take a look around."

"Chrys, Betty." He motioned from the weapon to the blacksmith and vice versa. "Betty, Chrys."

"Yes... well met, I suppose." The tone of voice told Chrys that his gun didn't much care for her. "And stop calling me 'Betty' you addle minded simpleton of a Scion!"

Hadicall shrugged. "You'll have to forgive her, she's cranky when she first wakes up..."

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At the strange voice, Chrys looked around sharply and focused on the oversized revolver at Hadicall's belt. Her face lit up with a huge, childlike grin of open wonder.

"It's talkin'! I seen some pretty amazing things, but I never seen a talkin' gun before!"

She squats down beside Hadicall to bring the holstered firearm to face level.

"Very pleased to be meetin' you, ma'am," the blacksmith enthused to the weapon. "What should I be calling you?"

Then she glanced up at Hadicall with excitement and mirth dancing in her eyes. "I guess you really ARE the son of Zeus then, huh? That makes us kin, of a sort."

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Ian motioned at the pair around the corner of the church, the two strangers standing in front of the open grave. Then he murmured to her, keeping his voice low so as not to carry past her ears.

"Cause it seems we got some. Sounds like they're some of my kin', though, so maybe they're here same reason as us. Shall we introduce ourselves, do ya' think? Then maybe we can put all our knowledge together about what's goin' on and see where that gets us. Hopefully either you or they have more details than I do, Miz Greene, cause so far the only info I got 's what the widow just gave us."

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Cora leaned out slightly, furtively sneaking a glimpse at the pair near the open grave before straightening again and pursing her lips in thought. There'd been a third voice in the exchange near the grave, but she couldn't see the speaker. Idly, she plucked at the bodice of her dress as the wheels of her cognition set themselves in motion.

"Your kin?" the dark-eyed maiden inquired, keeping her murmuring and expression carefully neutral as she snuck another peek at the two shadowy figures. "Well, then, Mistah Gallagher, Ah see no reason why we oughtn't go an' introduce ourselves politely." With that, she turned away from him, and even in the moonlight he could see the flush of color that rose in her cheeks as she fiddled with something just at chest-level, producing what looked like a gnarled root (or an exceptionally ugly knife) as long as her forearm. With the root resting flat against the side of her arm, tip pointing skyward, it was almost rendered invisible in the darkness.

Beckoning to Ian with a pale hand, she quietly left their hiding place and strode toward the other two Scions who seemed engrossed in conversation.

"My, my, this is a populah spot tonight. I do hope we aren't disturbin' anything?" Cora drawled casually, as if she had done nothing more than happen upon a pair of lovers on some secret moonlit rendezvous.

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Cora and Ian moved up the gentle slope behind the church and into the cemetery proper. Ian noted that the place was well tended, well cared for but noted as well that some of the more recent graves seemed to have a smaller mound of earth than would be expected, the one behind the two strangers stood out beyond even that with earth that was scattered about like the person had dug their way out of being buried alive.

Cora saw something completely different. As she moved towards the strangers she saw the shades of the dead. Ghostly and yet seemingly solid to her divine senses. There were many in the cemetery, far more than there should have been. These souls should have been at rest in their underworlds. Some may have refused to move beyond, and may have escaped the grasp of a psychopomp to usher them beyond, but there were simply too many. Cora understood now why her mother had asked her to look into this man who was stirring up the dead; this was not right.

Hadicall and Chrys may have been engaged in conversation but the newcomers made no effort to hide (two of the three at any rate). The both of them turned and saw a woman in southern dress and a man who looked half rogue half cowboy moving up from the church toward them. "My, my, this is a populah spot tonight. I do hope we aren't disturbin' anything?" Cora drawled casually, as if she had done nothing more than happen upon a pair of lovers on some secret moonlit rendezvous.

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"Bwah!"

Chrysanthemum jumped and whirled around, startled by the voices from behind. For a second she started raising the hammer to do some righteous smiting...then she paused and squinted in the dim, silver light of the moon.

"Well beat me like a dirty rug and hang me out to dry!" she exclaimed. "You ain't dead at all!" She laughed a relieved laugh and rested her hammer over her shoulder again.

"You gave me quite a turn there, strangers! I'm Chrysanthemum Hammersmith, and this is Hadicall, who's new to town. We heard some things about strange doings here, so figured we'd stop 'round and have a look."

She nodded happily, then tilted her head as her smile faded a bit. "You, ah...you haven't happened to see anything odd going on while you were about have you?"

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Out in the darkness, Cherry watched and listened with growing interest, particularly in regards to the two strangers who'd already been present at the graveyard when they'd arrived. In fairly short order she had the names of all those she was observing ('Miz Greene', 'Mistah Gallagher', Chrysanthemum Hammersmith, and 'Hadicall' - which was a mighty strange name, and made Cherry wonder if it weren't an alias of some sort), along with some strong implications that at least a few of them were Scions like herself. She also now knew that Chrysanthemum and Hadicall were there investigating "missing bodies" as well - which was almost as interesting (in her opinion at least) as finding fully four other Scions in a small town out on the Western frontier.

And then Hadicall's gun started to talk. That was something new.

Cherry felt a brief pang of envy at the sight of Hadicall's wondrous firearm, and wished she didn't have to skulk around out in the dark so that she could examine the weapon at length and perhaps even speak with it (Scion or not, she'd never yet found herself in a position to have a conversation with a gun before). She didn't feel entirely comfortable revealing herself yet however, so for now she remained some distance away, out in the dark. Fellow Scions they might be, but not from her pantheon, and they were still strangers in any case.

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Poena, once she indeed sensed another Scion (Chrys) was about to give the girl a proper greeting, considering how polite and intelligent she seemed compared to the lummox she had been assigned to serve. When Chrys cried out startled the massive barrel of the weapon swung up to meet the source. Brilliant light blue electrical arcs danced and entwined up his impressive arm as it licked across the surface of the weapon.

When he was satisfied with he lowered the weapon but did not holster it. The sight of such divine power would surely run the risk of Fatebinding mortals but Hadicall hardly seemed to care. "It's as she says, ma'am."

He decided to hold off on discussing the 'kin' part. Momma always told him he'd never amount to anything and now here he was the son of a GOD and kicking all kinds of ass across the world with magig and divine power coursing through him and lo' and behold... everyone wants to claim they're kin now. Course they were, and of course they'd all wanna slice of the pie when he got to Olympus finally. Funny how being the child of a God worked... one day you were a nobody, the next you have ninety-sometin' cousins.

Chrys was doing a well enough job of talkin' so he let her do the yappin' while he inspected their new company. Cora sure was a pretty thing and while Chrys was talkin he was lookin at her wonderin' how interested she'd be to stop his room later for a little one on one with the Storm of the Century. It was because he shared a libido on par with his fathers' that Cherry could have dancing for a full orchestra and he's never have noticed...

Click to reveal..
Botched the roll to detect Cherry creeping around. He fully blames Cora for being so pretty and distracting him, it's obviously her fault. smile
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Killian gave the two strangers a speculative once-over, then flashed them both an infectious grin and tipped his hat casually to Chrysanthemum. His gaze lingered appreciatively on her for a moment as it had with Miz Greene, for Chrysanthemum's casual charm and infectious laughter was as attractive to him as Cora's southern belle elegance - Ian knew how to appreciate women from all walks of life.

He also gave Hadicall's lightening-charged weapon a good once over, but didn't seem startled at the sight, and only a wry twist that touched the corners of his lips hinted at his amusement. He had a pretty sound bet who this.. interesting gentleman's kin might be, which probably him some sort of half-uncle. But it was almost best not to assume, and after a certain point it really stopped matterin' anyway, other than knowin' who was who so you didn't tread on too many toes.

Big guns go with big egos, best try to stay on this fella's good side for now.

"Well now, that's quite a name, Miz Hammersmith. Rolls right off the tongue. An' last time I checked my heart was still beatin' - picked up the pace a bit too, at the sight of that big hammer about ta' swing down on us, an' Mr. Hadicall's intimidatin' firearm pointed in my general direction. M'name's Killian, Killian Gallagher. But that one's a bit of a mouthful too, so I reckon that's why most folks call me Ian, an' you're both welcome to do the same. This here's Miz Greene, or at least I'm assumin' - she never did actually confirm that for me but she seems to be goin' along with it just fine. We ain't - well, I ain't seen anything unusual anyway, I don't know about Miz Greene here, we ain't had much time to talk about the details. But we heard a right interestin' story about some poor widow who's husband's body was up and stolen, so we thought we'd come take a look an' see what was what."

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"Well, yer in luck then." Hadicall was animated as he addressed Ian. "That's what we're doing but coming up a bit shy of anything exciting. Pleasure to meet you Ian, y'can just call me Hadicall. Sorry bout almost blowin' yer head off, but y'bout made me put a brick in my pants like you wouldn't believe."

There was an audible sigh of shame from his sidearm and one could only imagine a head shaking from side to side in embarrassment.

"With all due respect, Ian," Hadicall followed the Scion's request and referred to him as 'Ian'. The couple seemed a cute one, it'd be a shame for them to be devoured by the undead so early in their budding relationship. "This here's a bit dangerous of an occupation... ghoul huntin' an all. Y'might wanna leave it up to us professionals and take yer beautiful date on t'somewhere else. We'd hate for people to get hurt if this is serious business."

"It's prolly best if y'head back home for the night." He was polite and wasn't trying to be rude, but Hadicall would feel bad if they got hurt over some 'date excitement' (and not the fun roll in the sheets kind).

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The scions spoke in hushed tones and the conversation soon died out, it's life drained away by the local and the cool evening breeze. The scions looked around at the disturbed grave but only Cora was able to see the hands that rose out of the grave and braced on either side of the grave. Slightly glowing and semi-transparent the figure pulled itself up out of the grave the scions were standing before. The shade was that of a man past his middle years and his face bore similar features to those of his son, especially the chin and his nose. The ghost stood up and made a show of brushing the front of his slacks and coat though no dirt could be seen. He looked up at Cora and the others and then down at the grave, "'scuse me Miss. Beggin' yer pa'don but you ain't seen mah body crawl outta this here grave didja?"

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Righteous indignation sparked in Cora's dark eyes at the gunman's ridiculous insinuations. She could feel the smooth grip of the twisted root in her hand pulse faintly as she squeezed it, and if looks could kill, Hadicall would surely have been well on his way to visiting her step-father by now. Instead of responding to him, however, she turned her attention to the man who was busy exhuming himself. To all appearances, she simply opened her mouth to retort, and then abruptly turned, staring intently at something unseen in the grave. It was as if she'd suddenly seen into the hidden world of cats, and was now obliged to study something beyond the ken of mere mortals.

Her gaze rose slowly, following the spirit's movement, and she smiled sadly, shaking her head.

Well, at least he's still got his wits about him, poor man.

"No, sir, Ah'm afraid Ah haven't, though Ah believe your lady wife was most upset when she came with your boy to pay their respects today." She hesitated, wincing sympathetically as she continued addressing the roused ghost, oblivious to those around her. "Ah had heard, mind you, that someone's been causin' quite the fuss and stirrin' things up that oughtn't be stirred. Ah'd like to see the matter settled, sir, an' it may be that if we find your... er... recently disinterred person, we'll find the one who's makin' such trouble."

She paused a moment more and then clapped her free hand over her mouth and shook her head with a charmingly rueful smile.

"Oh! Ah'm terribly sorry, sir, where on Earth have my manners gone? My name's Cora, Miss Cora Magnolia Greene, an' it's a pleasure."

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Ian had listened to Hadicall's assumptions with an amused grin on his face. A glance at the southern belle indignation flaring up in Cora's pretty little eyes had him about to correct the gunman, but Cora's odd behavior caught him off-guard instead, and he watched her interaction with the apparent nothingness of the evening prairie air with a mix of curiosity and confusion. Finally she paused, and perhaps that only meant whoever she was speakin' to had started speakin' back, but as Ian couldn't see nor hear the gentleman himself, it seemed hard pressed to him that anyone would hold the interruption against him, anyways.

"Miz Greene, I apologize for interruptin' your conversation.. but as the rest of us 'professionals' don't seem ta' share your particular gifts, maybe you could tell us a little bit about what the hell is goin' on. You seem a bit more knowledgeable about it than the rest of us at the moment."

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Chrysanthemum gazed, openmouthed between the crazy girl and the grave, then back at Cora. She spared little but a glance to Ian.

"Hoo...you're nuttier than a wagonload of chipmunks at a squirrel's family reunion!" she told Cora delightedly. "What're you talkin' to there?" The blacksmith looked over at Hadicall. "Do you see anything?"

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With one eyebrow turned up high and a puzzled expression on his face that made the Moron of Machismo look even more ignorant, he just slowly moved his head from side to side. "Nope." he replied to Chrys. "Nothing but a grave and a whole lotta crazy... I think this is the part where we back away. Slowly."

He leaned down and quietly muttered in her ear. "Watch out for the 'Ian' guy... if that lady goes crazy you take him down... nobody smiles as often as him unless they're crazy too or have an extra hand in their pants..."

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"Ah don' know nuttin' 'bout thet ma'am but I s'pose thet mebbe could be. Ah'd be much obliged to ya if ya an' yer posse here coul' put mah bones ta rest Miss Cora." Despite his ghostly appearance he was more than capable of taking Cora's hand and bowing over it in rough gentleman's greeting. "I s'pect that ya may want ta talk wit tha udders here, sum o' dem seen their bodies up and wander off too." He gestured around at the other shades in the graveyard but specifically towards the others standing near some of the more freshly dug graves.

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When Cora began her conversation with thin air, it made Cherry jumpy, and she could see (and hear) that she wasn't the only one. Unlike the others, however, Cherry knew full well what it was like to be able to see or hear things that others couldn't, so she was more inclined to assume that there really was someone (or something) for her to be speaking with. But who (or what)?

Somewhat nervously, Cherry reassessed her surroundings, checked all the sight-lines, and generally just looked for anything out of the ordinary (that she was capable of sensing anyhow).

Click to reveal..
Awareness Roll (cuz it's somethin' to do wink ): (08:28:10) ChatBot: (Centimane) rolls 6d10 and gets 1,3,10,6,3,9. 3sux + Epic Perception sux = 4sux total.
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The ghost's little gesture of courtesy brought a delighted smile to the Scion's lips as she patted his spectral hand reassuringly, in much the same fashion as a close friend or confidante.

"Ah will do absolutely everythin' in my powah to make sure y'all get to rest peacefully, sir."

As she stepped back, releasing the phantom's hand with a graceful fluidity born of long practice at society functions, she finally turned her attention to her perplexed audience.

"Mistah Gallagher, I'm not entirely certain I actually have more information, though by the looks of things, I do have bettah access to it. When Ah arrived in town, Ah was told of a certain restless gentleman who should have been quietly whiling away eternity, but simply couldn't stay put. It would seem he's been busy," she said with a frown, glancing around at some of the more recent occupants as they lingered near what should have been their final resting places.

More quietly, she leaned in and murmured to Ian under her breath, "If you'll recall the scene at dinnah, Mistah Gallager, I was just having a chat with the gentleman in question."

Straightening, she turned to Hadicall, replying coolly, "With all due respect, sir, conversin' with the recently deceased is a dangerous occupation. You might want to leave it up to the... professionals and take your lovely companion elsewhere. We would simply hate for the two of you to find yourselves in an unfortunate predicament as this is, indeed, serious business. It's probably for the best if you retire for the evening."

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Chrysanthemum looked between Cora and Hadicall quickly, her loose, slightly frazzled blonde hair bobbing about atop her head as it tried to follow the motion.

"Oh for pity's sake," she lamented. "We're all obviously out here for the same thing." The blacksmith faced Cora and Ian. "I'm real sorry if we offended you. Wasn't our intention, none. We figured you two was just creepin' up here for a snuggle. But if you're here on account of the missin' bodies, well that's another thing entire. Now..."

She looked down at the gravesite and waggled her free hand at it. "...we took a peek here, and I figure whoever was buried here musta dug himself right back out. Marks in the ground make it look that way, anyway. An' the question that comes logical-like from that is...where'd that body get off to? I ain't much of a tracker, and this ol' graveyard's seen way too many feet for me to pick out which is which."

"Don't suppose either of you folk might have skills in that direction?" She glanced over at Hadicall. "Or you?"

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