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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

WEREWOLF HO-O!


Gnarlitch

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Players:

Tanny~~Amanda Tanisson~~Grew up on a farm, oldest of 5 girls. She's a very determined young womanand is newly married to Nathaniel Bluett (Merelas).

 

Elwen~~Rosalie Tanisson~~Amanda's sister, Second-oldest of the five sisters, she was always somewhat of a dreamer, and not very practical.

 

Vahktang~~Abraham Cartwright~~He's taking his boys, Adam, Eric, and Joseph, to Nevada to start a ranch, mining, and farming empire. Three times a widower.

 

Jammeez~~Gertrude "Trudy" Young McAllister~~She's a recent widow and a handsome woman. They tried to keep her off this wagon train, but she's got her shotgun holstered on the wagon-seat and some fine strong children to help with the livestock.

 

MeThinksYouFoolish~~ Jake Burrow~~He comes with nothing more than an old friend, his horse, a blanket, and a six-shooter. The gun carries but one bullet, no one but Jake knows why. Now is he's headed west with this wagon train.

 

Merelas~~Nathaniel Bluett~~(pron. blew-it). Studied in law school back east, and is aiming to become a judge. He has a slight temper, and it's best not to cross him. He makes friends slowly and is slow to doubt them because of the loyalty he exerts and expects in return.

 

Lady Celes Crusader~~Charlotte Gainsbourg~~She's a Cajun in her late teens, nothing else is known about her.

 

Eyremon~~Eric Smith~~He's headed west fleeing some creditors...and a woman, not that he'd ever admit it....

 

DeantheAdequate~~"Blondie"~~AKA "The Man With No Name"

 

Degenero~~Markus Black~~He's a lone drifter from the city who's Coming out west to try to get away from some of the more notorious people he's had dealings with in his random driftings. Kind of a bad boy.

 

Solivagus~~Gunther~~A German blacksmith and inventor. The genius of the group.

 

Katzaniel~~Cat~~Little white girl raised by indians until the age of 12.

 

Watching from the sidelines:

 

Nave too stinkin busy

Ozymandious taint heerd nutin yet

Edited by Gnarlitch
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Well as much as i love being a pirate i'll save that for another time. i already posted my bio at the poll but i'll repost it here for people too lazy to click to it

 

I'm thinking i'll be a runaway of sorts, if the story can manage it. A lad of seventeen years, by the name of Jake Burrow who comes with nothing more than a old friend, his horse, a blanket, and a six-shooter. The gun carries but one bullet, no one but Jake knows why. No one knows where the rest of his family is or even if they're still alive. All they know is he's headed west with this wagon train.

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Amanda Bluett, née Tanisson

 

Grew up in a farm, oldest of 5 girls. Her mother made sure she could lead a household, and her father taught her everything about farms (hey, he didn't have a son after all !! ). Very determined young woman, newly married to Nathaniel Bluett (Merelas). Both decided to go West because of better opportunity, in a way disappointing her father who wanted them to stay in the farm. Her sister Rosalie Tanisson (Elwen), the second oldest, is coming with them.

 

Quoting from the poll thread:

Nathaniel has a slight temper, and it's best not to cross him. Sort of moody--he can be the nicest person in the world one minute and hate you the next, unless you're very close to him. He makes friends slowly and is slow to doubt them because of the loyalty he exerts and expects in return, but if you ever break his trust you'll probably not be speaking to him again. He's deeply in love with Amanda and will fight to protect her or her honor.

Edited by Tanuchan
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A recap and a continuation:

 

Gertrude "Trudy" Young McAlister, a recent widow and a handsome woman. They tried to keep me off this wagon train - traveling without a man is not recommended. But I wouldn't hear of it. I've got my shotgun holstered on the wagon-seat and some fine strong children to help with the livestock. Isaiah, jr. may not yet be a man, but he's got his father's determination, and little Nell is well past weening! I'll just have to keep an eye on that daughter of mine.  Pol-LY! POLLY! http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif

"Here I am, Ma" the girl chimes, sauntering up to the wagon, where Trudy rustles 3-year-old Nell into a clean pinafore.

 

Gertrude fixes the young lady with a level stare, then goes back to buttoning up the back of the babes dress. "I don't like you wandering off, girl. Where've you been, anyway?"

 

"Just meeting some of our new neighbors, Ma. There's the Bluetts, and the Cartwrights *blushes*, and there's a girl - name's Charlotte. Isn't that pretty, Ma? She talks kinda funny...I don't think she's got any family...and there's a boy..."

 

Trudy freezes for a moment at the hesitation in her daughter's voice, then turns Nell around by the shoulders and hollers for her son while making sure Nell is presentable. "Isaiah, come watch your sister for a minute. I need a moment alone with Polly."

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The Man With No Name squints at the setting sun.

 

"We'd best make camp soon all. We can put on a feed and water the horses at that small creek yonder."

 

He's been working this trail for a while. But something seems different this time... Like old times. And events.

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Amanda observes the curious girl who has just left, and smiles at seeing her mother quite ready to scold her for some naughtyness. Polly, that was her name, right? From what she said, her dad had died recently and Mrs. McAlister had decided to join the wagon train. She would like to know her better, she seemed to be a nice woman; and maybe she could help a bit with her children... She loved them and hoped to have a few of her own after they settled down.

 

She turns to where the men are gathering, smiling at seeing her Nat there, listening quietly. Her friends hadn't understood at all when she and Nat started meeting and later married, but they'd always seen just his mercurial temper. Not the deep care and love he finally revealed to her after years being just the son of dad's best friend. Maybe it was just because of that, being Mr. Bluett's son and pride, that her father had at last relented and blessed them when they told him they would be joining the wagon train following the Oregon Trail.

 

She was also glad Rosalie had chosen to come with them. Maybe it would help that dreaming sister of hers to focus a bit... And talking about that, where is she?

Edited by Tanuchan
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The sky was turning blood red, sun hidden by distant mountains. Jake sighed, the sight was beautiful, but it reminded him of cold nights he wanted to forget. He lay down his blanket and made sure his horse, called Scarlett, was ready for the night. She felt uneasy he could tell and he told her reassuring things as he stroked her coarse mane. One of the little boys walked up to him, he must have belonged to one of the families but he didn't know whose. Jake ignored him and layed down on the blanket.

 

"Howdy mister," the little boys voice was annoyingly high-pitched, "Me and ma family is on this here wagon train headed west. The road is supposed to be full of indians and outlaws but i'm not afraid, i can handle those redskins any day, i can shoot a 'coon from 100 feet away. My pa always said i was a born shooter."

 

The boy paused, hoping he'd recieve some of praise from this mysterious man. Jake responed by pulling his hat over his eyes. Still the little boy continued.

 

"Well, i can do more than shoot, i can skin and cook anything that i can catch. I'm... im also real good at housework, i help my ma out alot now that..." the little boy trailed off.

 

Jake remembered the boy now. He thought he could remember the kid's name. What was it again... Isaiah? Yea that was it. Named after his father.

 

Poor lad.

 

"I'm also a real good fisher too, we come to any rivers and i can show you." Isaiah then noticed Scarlett, "I can ride a horse too," he said moving closer to pet her.

 

"Don't Touch My Horse" Jake's voice growled.

 

Isaiah stopped. This surely was an unfriendly fella. Just as well, he best be getting back to his Ma before she missed him.

 

Isaiah scampered off and Jake drifted into sleep

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Young Cat crawled along the ground behind Red Bull, who was looking discreetly over the ridge at intervals. She wanted to do the same, but he had chided her earlier for that, explaining that she might get them seen because she didn't know how to do it right, and that that knowledge required experience. So Young Cat contented herself with crawling, even though in reality it was more like the gait of a cat with broken knees than the sleek prowl she imagined, and which Red Bull was practising so well just in front of her.

 

The little girl was sad, since she was leaving the Indians for good, and they had treated her kindly. But she was excited, too, for they told her she had grown up much and could look after herself now, but that she'd do it safest among the white people. Indians weren't well respected, they had told her, and said she shouldn't mention that they'd been looking after her or the white people might take it into their heads to track them down and kill them for it. So, little white girl, taken into the care of Indians at a very young age when her parents had died, grown up to the ripe old age of 12, and being brought to find a home with some white people, change her name to simply Cat, because they told her she'd be safer. White people didn't sound safer, but that's where Red Bull, her teacher of many years, was taking her. And she trusted him.

 

"See caravan on horizon." He said it in English for her sake, though he'd never quite caught the hang of its fine points. Young Cat had grown up with that sort of speech, though, and wasn't much better. Red Bull pointed to show her. She popped her head over the ridge to look.

 

"It coming this way. One moon, sometime next day that caravan pass by. You wait here, make sure you move some if it does, but you meet it. If it not come, you still wait here and we find you again when it safe. Else meet it. You be better there."

 

"Why better there?" pleaded Young Cat again.

 

"They no hurt you for being with white people. You go, Young... me meant, go Cat."

 

"Tell me now how my parents died."

 

Red Bull looked Cat directly into her eyes. "You no need to know that. Go now," and he hugged her to say goodbye.

 

 

 

Edit: minor spelling

Edited by Katzaniel
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Charlotte Gainsbourg, who is a Cajun in her late teens, struggles with her heavily charged horse. While mumbling her frustration in French, she heard a calmer voice behind her.

 

- Need help?

 

The Cajun turns around and looks at Trudy. Charlotte replies her in English, while she speaks it well, her French accent is present.

 

- Well, it seems that one of the straps that were holding my belongings together had been broked.

 

The older woman looks at it and nods.

 

- I probably have a spare one. It's also sturdier than the ones that you are using. he turns over Polly. while you bring the unsused strap over here?

 

While the little girl goes looking for the said strap, Trudy decides that it was the best opportunity to know a little more about the girl.

 

- So, are you travelling on your own?

 

- Yes I am. I have no known surviving relatives. I've heard about the opportunities that the West is offering and I decided to try my luck, as you can see, I have nothing to lose. Zut! How rude I am! I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Charlotte Gainsbourg.

 

(OOC: "Zut" is an interjection.)

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The group of you is assembled at a wagon yard just on the outskirts of St. Loius, Missouri. A older but robust looking man steps onto a podium before you.

 

Good morning, folks and welcome to the Oregon Trail Guide company. My name is Jebediah Morgan and I will be your trail guide. I have been with the company for over 10 years and this will be my 14th trip along the trail, my fourth time as lead guide. Standing beside me are John "Spud" McNiel, Tom "Blue Eagle", and Sven "Swede" Svenson, my fellow guides and scouts. If you listen to us we should all make it to the west coast safely. However, as explained to you when you signed on for this trip, disobedience can have severe repercussions, including the death of yourself, your loved ones, or any and all of the members of this expedition. Potentially dangerous behavious is strictly prohibited and is grounds for expulsion from our group, to make your way on your own as you are able. Any company provided equipment will be withdrawn from your possession at that time. Any questions? Then let's get started.

 

With that you all assemble your families and animals and get into line on the trail. You travel west for some days without incident. Then, one morning, Widow Barnabus does not rise early as is her usual and is still in her wagon when the train begins forming for the day. Jebediah sends Spud to check on her. He knocks of the rear of her wagon, and, getting no response, peeks in. Hastliy he whistles for Jebs attention. Jeb goes over, accompanied by Blue Eagle.

 

After looking inside the wagon Jeb directs Blue Eagle to search for tracks in the area, in a vain attempt to discover the "perpetrators" of this supposed crime. He then approaches the group. Well folks, it looks as if we aint a going no where for a bit. Widow Barnabus seems to have died in her sleep. We need to dig a grave and have a prayer before we move on. If some of you women folk could see to the preparations of the body? *After the women have gone...* Gentlemen, she appears to have been murdered. This *holds out a bright silk handkerchief embroidered with a wolf motif* was stuffed in her mouth and her jewelry box is missing. Any of you recognize this? We should make it to Fort Kearny bout the middle of next week. If we find who did this we'll apprehend them and turn them in to the authorities there. If we don't find them, well....

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Let the accusations begin!You have until Sunday night to find the killer

 

Of note, we do have a Hunter instead of a Baneer. The hunter may choose to protect someone each night. If that person is attacked, the hunter dies in their place but kills a wolf in the process. (only one wolf means there is a 50/50 chance of survival for the hunter) However, if the hunter chooses to protect a wolf, the hunter is dead and the wolves all survive. The effects of the wolves choosing to attack the hunter are the same as if they attacked someone being protected; a wolf dies and the hunter as well, unless there is only one remaining wolf, then the wolf is dead and the hunter has a 50/50 chance of survival.

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"Well, damn. I don't quite think I'm ready to die." Markus says, leaning against one of the wagons.

 

He's around six and a half feet tall, but skinny, so he doesn't look imposing. He has on a wide brimmed hat to keep the sun from burning him. Otherwise he's dressed in a near completely black outfit, matching his name nicely. His black pants are worn, and slightly frayed at the bottom, and his black shirt is dusty. The black coat he wears over the shirt is, in contrast, immaculately clean, and his black boots are likewise polished to perfection.

 

No matter where I go I can't get away from death. If it isn't one thing, it's another. If it isn't crime lords, it's Indians. If it isn't Indians, it's thieves. If it aint thieves, well, then it's stupid people with too many handkerchiefs.

 

He spits to his side, cleaning his mouth of dust. "I reckon we better find these guys, before they find us."

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Mrs. McAlister balances the baby on her hip. "My girl there's a mite forward, I reckon. She likes to meet new people...'specially boys *grimace*...but she's taken a shine to you, young lady."

 

Polly returns with the new strap for Charlotte's horse. Trudy takes it and, handing Nell over to her sister, industriously sets to work afixing it to the remaining tack and harness.

 

Trudy fixes Charlotte with a meaningful stare, then smiles slightly and pats the girl's hand. "You take care, now, and ask us if you need anything at all, you hear?"

 

Polly watches avidly. She's a young teen, blossoming into womanhood...a time when a girl is in dire need of her father, more's the pity. But Trudy intends to do her best to keep the girl out of trouble.

 

Just then 11-year-old Isaiah runs up. "Ma! Ma, there's a girl out there in the meadow!"

 

"What?" Gertrude, Charlotte, and Polly all look where the boy points. Sure enough, there's a girl out there staring at the wagon train. "You three stay right here. I'm going for Mr. Morgan. Don't let her outta your sight, you hear? MR. MORGAN?" She rushes off to find the WagonMaster.

Edited by Jammeez
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OOC: Placeholder post. You guys need to meet me this morning since you haven't yet (sorry) or I won't be a possible suspect. Must do a little later though.

OOPS! Sorry, forgot to write about the wagon train finding you. You've already been found, 2 days ago...

 

Four days out from St. Louis, just before noon, Swede spies a small figure walking acros the Kansas prarie. He signals for a halt and spurs his horse forward for a better look. Blue Eagle rides forward as well and circles the girl from a distance, rifle ready, searching for a trap, but finding tracks from only the girl. He eyes her back trail suspiciously but signals Swede that he can continue to approach the girl. Swede then approaches the girl and....

 

 

Ok, Katz, the rest of this story is up to you. Tell it as you will, just remember that the morning of the Widow's death would be your third day with the wagon train.

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Isaiah sits on the caravan with his legs crossed. "You're so dirty." he states.

 

"You're so white!" says Cat, finally letting her amazement be voiced. She had been told what to expect, but seeing it was another thing. These people were so different. Three days with them and she was getting used to it, but not quite.

 

When Swede had approached her, she'd claimed to have "lost her way" and obviously he didn't believe her, but none of them had known what else to do. It was clear to them that leaving her there would mean her death. So, they took her in, but eyed her askance. It didn't help when the woman's death had been announced that morning and Cat had said simply, "Shouldn't we celebrate that the Creator has ended her cycle and brought her in?"** Most of them thought she was spouting nonsense, and no one tried to explain it to her. Some just looked at her harder though. She'd have to be very careful what she said from now on.

 

Isaiah laughed. "You're white too!"

 

"Yeah. But... I don't know. You're just all so strange." Cat got up and went to the other side of the caravan, leaning on it. She liked to be alone anyway. But Isaiah followed. "You're the strangest girl I've ever met, Cat." He stuck his tongue out, and grinned when she did the same. They smiled at each other for a second before he went back to the other side. Strange boy, thought Cat, but nice.

 

 

 

 

** I'm not really sure what the Natives believe about death, I'm just piecing together the bits I do know and guessing, so don't take this for correct. ;)

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Amanda follows the voices and finds the children behind one of the wagons. Smiling, she waves to Isaiah.

 

"Hey Isaiah! Your mother's looking for you! I think you should check what she needs."

 

The boy waves back and leaves in a run towards his wagon, while Amanda approaches the foundling keeping her gentle smile. She thinks to herself how that girl could have been left all alone on the plains, and sets to bring her to her wagon. Nat wouldn't mind a child with them for a while, she hopes. He was always talking about children...

 

"Hi, Catling."

 

"Hi. Name's Cat." Cat looks at that young woman, wondering if she should say something else.

 

"Yes, I remember. But we say "catling" when we like a smart girl, like I'm sure you are. And you looks like a young cat, so I called you that. Do you mind it?"

 

Cat shakes her head slowly, wanting to ask how that woman knew the name given to her by the tribe. But she remembers Red Bull's advice, and asks instead, "How call you?"

 

"Amanda. Do you want to come with me, Catling? I have a place you can sleep, and some food if you're hungry."

 

It was not the first offer, neither from her nor from other women in the wagon train. All of them seemed to take some interest on her, while the men were in general wary. But this Amanda was alone with her man, and another woman, and didn't have children near her all day long... she liked the other children but they weren't very smart most of times. Taking her time, Cat just follows Amanda when she goes back to her wagon.

 

Amanda resists the urge to hug and take the girl by hand, sensing she's more independent than most children her age. So, she just uses the same tactics as with Susanne, the third and most stubborn and independent of her sisters.

 

"She's quite wild inside, I guess... and has a terrible English," thinks Amanda, "Why do I think Rosalie will probably try to correct that?" She smiles again, amused at this last thought.

 

A flicker of black in the limit of her visual field makes Amanda turn, but she can just make the brim of a hat before it disappears behind a wagon.

 

She sighs, "Well, hope Nat won't get into one of his moods when he sees Cat..."

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Markus pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, putting it in his mouth and lighting it, walking around the camp.

 

Amanda Tanisson

 

The name echoed inside of his head. It'd been years. Five years. He'd loved her, when he was younger. Now she was with this lawyer of hers.

 

Well, she's here, and I've got to deal with that. Just reminds me of how much I've missed her these past years.

 

He exhales deeply, blowing smoke out of his mouth in one big puff, he comes to where everyone else is standing.

 

"So, are we going to find who did this?

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Nathaniel was hungry, shocked, and upset. Amanda, standing before him, looked to him as though she felt the same way.

 

"You should have consulted me first, Amanda! The bible tells us that the man is the head of the household, and you disrespected me when you refused to ask me if it were all right to invite this young ingrate into our home!" he fumed, trying his best to keep from shouting.

 

"The bible also tells us to have charity, Nathaniel, and I did what is the good christian thing to do!" she replied, and he fumed even more. They had been arguing about this for a good 30 minutes now, and finally Nathaniel decided to give it up.

 

"All right then. She stays... but don't think that I'm happy about it, Amanda. You've cornered me here, and I don't appreciate it one bit."

 

She said nothing, simply turning on her heel and leaving. Quickly, he walked to their wagon, where he ripped a can of tinned biscuits from a shelf. He tore it open, and took one out. They would have to ration their food even more carefully, now that Amanda had taken this child in. He knew that Amanda had only wanted to be kind, as she always was, but sometimes he wondered if she reasoned her actions through before making them.

 

And then there was that woman who had died. The wagonmaster was saying that she had been murdered, but Nathaniel wasn't sure he believed it. He hadn't even known the woman, and how could she have made enemies? An old widow hardly appeared to be the hatable sort... and yet, there it was. Perhaps she was robbed for her money. They had said her jewelry box was missing... but what would someone do with jewels here on the trail? There were hardly people jumping to buy fine stones, and the forts they came to along the way would (most likely) refuse them as payment as well.

 

It was strange, and the oddity of it forced him to lose his anger. He pondered some more, as he munched on the stale bread.

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Amanda paces slowly, swallowing tears. She knew she should have talked to Nate first, but that had been the first time she had had chance to talk to Cat. She knew also that Cat would stay just if she wanted, as she had already stayed one night with Trudy, the next near Charlotte, and the other one who knows where. Nate shouldn't be so angry... he should trust her.

 

She wipes some indiscreet tears away, keeping somewhat hidden in the shadows of the wagon, wishing Rosalie was somewhere near. But she was with other women, out gathering some herbs.

 

While she keeps to herself, refusing to cry more, she sees again a flicker of back. But this time it's coming from behind a wagon... a man all in black suddenly looks at her. Amanda pales, her breath catching.

 

"Markus? No! No, impossible!"

 

However, it's impossible to mistake him for any other person. He turns away, and she enters again her wagon, shocked speechless.

 

"So long ago... five years... he had abandoned her."

 

Now tears run down her cheeks, unchecked, and she looks towards Nate. She loves him. She cares for him. Even with his temper, she loves him. Why did he have to shout at her just today?

 

"Nate..." she whispers.

 

As he turns, she just says, again in control, "I'm sorry. I erred. But you aren't absolutely right either."

Edited by Tanuchan
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