Manifest Destiny

[Jack Robinson]

You're a few hours outside of Sully. It's a dark time in the history of the United States, and it's progressively getting worse. Your mind is troubled, you ponder on the fate of the frontier. For the disappearance of Sully is not the only disturbing incident to occur recently. Peaceful native villages have been found ransacked, the inhabitants slain. White settlers have also been disappearing at an alarming rate. On top of all of this, there's a band of brutal bandits marauding and pillaging, and doing so in the name of an occult god.

Your guide and leader, Sheriff Billy Summers, didn't make much time for introductions once you all met up. Rather, he made sure everyone had a horse, plenty of ammunition, and ordered you to follow him. He's a mysterious, quiet man, and his presence does little to reassure you. He rides at the front of the group, silent and obviously thinking about something. There's around thirty or forty of you from all walks of life. You see blacks, Chinamen, natives, and whites. Men and women. Experienced and less so. But all of you have been brought to the outskirts of Sully for a purpose. A purpose you do not yet know.

You still have a few hours until you reach Sully. Time to talk, to learn about one another. Perhaps attempt to learn more about your mission from Billy Summers, a man who has been disturbingly tight-lipped about the whole ordeal. Whatever you do, you know this may be the last few minutes of peace and quiet you have for a while. Who knows what lies in Sully? Natives, bandits, worse? Whether you want to or not, you will soon learn.

 

[Krag_Jorgensen]

Lin was slightly saddle sore from the ride from Soccoro. The young woman was wearing a simple straw hat with a wide brim that she had won in a poker game. Her clothing was a bit dirty, but she didn't care, she could move easily enough with them and that was why she was there. As far as she knew, she was the only one who had medical experience, but she did not know much about any of her companions.

The Sheriff seemed alright, the type of person who had a plate of gravel in the morning with a side of nails. The other white gentleman seemed softer than many of the more hardened individuals. She was currently sidling up to him, he seemed nice enough and probably worth getting closer to. The two masked men disturbed her and she really wasn't sure they were all there. The darkest one intrigued her, she had seen very few blacks ever and she wasn't entirely convinced her skin wasn't paint like the performers she had seen in San Francisco. It might be something for later, in the meantime she just wanted to try and stay alert.

 

[Huntress]

Dry, hot, barren, flat. This part of the world seemed to be a sight for sore eyes. The land carried on endlessly, hazel eyes squinting at the cracked dirt in an attempt to gauge distances. A futile attempt as it was an eternal landscape. She recalled home, how opposite it was of this; green, lush, mountainous, the sun was strong and hot but there were trees to keep you covered, fresh water more often than not could be found a few feet away. Here one was stuck under the brim of a dirty old felt hat and had to dig into the core of the earth to find a drop of water. Sweat beaded across her forehead, running down her temple. Scarred skin covered by fabric. It was getting close to the point of having to remove the layer. She would shortly.

Studying the people around her with a jaw muscle that constantly flexed and unflexed the brunette exhaled shortly. The group was large, larger than she had anticipated when accepting the offer of this job. She was sure not all of them would be making it back home, although she didn't really know who would and who wouldn't just yet. The woman needed some more time to study the others. This seemed like a mob of serious people, every detail would be analyzed.

Clearing her throat she sat up straight and rolled her shoulders, bones popping from being set in a certain position for such a long time. Hooking the reins onto the horn of her saddle she removed her jacket and folded it up in her arms. Twisting to reach towards the saddle bags she pulled on the reins of her horse to halt him. Stuffing the jacket away and latching the bag shut she turned back and resumed control of the large animal, making sure to catch up with the group quickly.

Trotting passed the two heavily dressed men she glanced towards them with caution, she couldn't spot a single detail beneath the layers they wore. Not even a centimeter of skin on their face as they were covered and hidden from head to toe. The tight-lipped serious sheriff was way ahead, leading everyone to their destination. Two other females within the group caught her attention a dark skinned lady that rode barefoot and a woman who's features were hidden by the wide-brimmed straw hat she wore. A rather suave looking gentleman rode further up he wore clean clothes and had a clean face, lastly another man, his hair long and dark.

She could see nothing that peaked her interest in most of these people yet, everyone seemed to be sitting and staring rather blandly ahead. Her only question was 'how were those two men not hot with all those clothes on?' Her body may have generated more heat than the average human, something that she was used to, but these men were covered from head to toe in dark colours that made her sweat just by looking at them. It was peculiar to say the least. None of that was really important in all honesty, the only thing she cared about was starting and finishing the job, and it seemed like they still had some time before they would be starting.

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INTERACTIONS:

N/A

MENTIONS:

Everyone

 

[DrowsyPangolin]

Virgil scratched at his neck as the blazing sun beat down overhead. The heat had been the only predictable thing in his life lately. In his old body, it surely would've killed him in this getup. Fortunately, straw didn't shrivel up an die like flesh and blood. Unfortunately, he still felt every bit of that damned heat. It was different than it had been before. He wasn't dizzy, not even thirsty, but God almighty was he hot. Oh well, at least he wasn't stuck up on a post anymore.

He adjusted the cuff of his duster. Maybe it was paranoia, but he wasn't taking any chances of becoming a walking wildfire... well really it'd be more of a riding wildfire. One large hand patted the mule on which he rode. Poor thing was trying its best to manage in the heat.

The masked man glanced around at the others. They were a diverse bunch, that was for sure. He'd never seen a group quite like this before, but then these weren't typical circumstances, either. He'd kept mostly to himself so far, sticking with Harmon and keeping the brim of his hat low. Some of the others had seemed a little off-put by the bizarre clothing choices of himself and his brother-in-bad-decisions, but he reckoned they'd be more off-put by straw spilling out of his mouth.

As they rode along, Virgil felt a pair of eyes upon him. He looked up to catch the glance of one of the women in the group, the Gypsy. It definitely wasn't the first look like that they'd gotten so far, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He tipped his broad-brimmed hat to her as she passed, keeping his mule at the same steady pace. He supposed it couldn't hurt to be polite. After all, they'd probably be with these folks for a while.

Up above, a crow circled the party. Virgil glanced up at the shadow circling the sun. He wondered what Dinah saw up there. Frankly, he wasn't sure how close they were to their destination... and to tell the truth he wasn't sure he had gotten himself quite ready for when they did.

The towering rider looked over to his compatriot, likewise wrapped up in the most inappropriate clothing possible for the climate. Virgil spoke in a low, dry voice. "Well Harmon, I think we might be a bit of a curiosity to these folks."

 

[Epsir]

If he had teeth, they would have broken off gritting. If he had skin, it would have melted away. He no longer had a nose, but the smell of the grungy horse convoy offended him all the same. It hadn't been so long ago that he had a flesh and blood body of his own, and his mind could still insert the phantom reek of his own sweat simply to torment him. The rider's boots bounced gently with every stride of his less than noble steed, his heavy, dark coat's tails fanned across it to share some of its sweltering warmth. Unlike his accomplice he made no attempt to tug at the scarf covering his face, or adjust the shawl obscuring the shape of his head. Instead, his leather wrapped hands gripped tighter and tighter around the reigns. His back arched forward, his face turning down as the man contorted into a pained slump. He rasped quietly to himself, cursing the heat before springing back up. It was everything he could do to keep his eyes on the trail ahead of them, and not on the swirling heat haze rising off of it. Maybe if he minded his his own business the others would continue to mind theirs... but he knew that was a false hope.

All the way there, he'd felt the eyes. Every glance he took up met another, quickly averted look from one of their other travelers. The rational part of him told him that everyone was getting it. They were a strange lot through and through, and people had plenty of reason to stare. The bandit in him said it was too much attention, said most of it was on him and that this was the wrong place to be. He spotted Virgil tipping his hat as a woman strolled by on her mount. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the long ride, but he felt a prickle upon seeing the gesture. Damn fool was going to blow their cover the first day. He caught himself in time. The duo had talked their way past people before. It didn't matter if they made themselves look personable. Instead of cuffing his partner he grabbed at his elbows. He was cold, cold and calm. Didn't matter what the weather was. He had to be cold. The scarecrow sighed, deflating as the moment passed.

As if to punctuate his struggle Virgil then turned aside, stating the obvious. Harmon buckled with silent laughter. "Well Virgil, I think you might be right. Many of these fine folk look quite the curiosity themselves. But we mind our own business right? I'm sure they mean no harm by it."

He turned back to his horse's neck, slumping over again. It felt easier to ride that way. Maybe it was his wooden spine, or maybe it was the heavy lever gun riding on his back.

 

[Impudimp]

She would have been doing just fine on her own. Or at least in her mind, Polly was more than capable of handling the heat of the arid dirt all on her own. It was probably a touch of delirium from the roaming. When the sheriff had picked her up it had been a little bit of time before she'd found something wet to sink her teeth into. The offer of a flask and another creature to bare her own weight for a bit had been enough incentive to join some cause or another. Had she been sane or at least better hydrated, she probably would have gone in another direction.

As the dark skinned woman let her equally deep brown eyes scan the surrounding group, she confirmed with an internal nod that she definitely would have gone another direction. There were more colors and types of people in this one entourage than she had ever seen anywhere in the land she'd traipsed around, and that was including the bustling meccas and shanty towns alike. They were just asking for trouble being altogether like they were. There was a yellow woman and white woman (without children on their teats to boot!) The men were less enchanting. They seemed rough and tumble, but normal all the same... Cept maybe them two odd ones trailing toward the back. They sort of made her itch when she looked at them, like something wasn't quite right. It was the same feeling a person would get if another was talking about them behind their back or... when something was going to happen but you couldn't figure out what. (Or if a haint was around... Or if someone had put a curse on you...)

She was slouched on top of her beast of burden, trying her damndest to get comfortable in the rocking motion that she wasn't used to, but heck if she was putting her feet on that cook pot hot ground if she didn't have to. Sure her soles could take a beating with the best, but she wasn't daft. Even thinking about it made her poor toes curl. The real problem was her dress. It was getting uncomfortable, chafing where her legs met animal. It was pilfered off some prairie folks' caravan wash lines, all white and linen with not much to it, but it covered her up good and kept most of her out of the sun, which she was thankful. Polly had the sneaking suspicion it was supposed to be used for sleeping, but that was even better. The heat of the day left like the devil was calling it home once the sun set in this wilderness. And on the subject of sunset, when were they going to get to this place anyways?

 

[Jack Robinson]

Billy Summers rode at the head of the party, his head down. They were nearing Sully. He could tell. The air was beginning to smell of death. The plants nearby were dead, and he heard no buzzing of insects, no chirping of birds, no rustling in any of the charred bushes. The only sound was the echoing chatter of his little army, his ragtag band put together to go try their best to investigate this hub of mystery. He knew not what would happen. The only other time he'd been there...well, he didn't remember it. His only memory was a flash of movement, shooting, and weeping. A woman weeping. It was odd. No. Not odd. Horrifying.

"We're a couple hours out," he announced, "Hope y'all are all ready. Weapons good to go, just in case. Heads on a swivel. We ain't got a clue what we're getting into, so we gotta be ready for anything. Injuns, bandits, who knows. Just be ready."

((Sorry for the absence, been on vacation. Hope you're all still interested!))

 

[Huntress]

A smirk came across her lips as she rode on with the large posse. The two men that had been covered head to two didn't like the looks they were getting from others. It almost seemed like they had been asking for it by dressing the way they had. Regardless it didn't matter. She had nodded in return to the one man that had greeted her before she carried on looking ahead. Turning her head to the right she watched the two that spoke among themselves and smiled. "You do not gather a bunch of people that are not unique to investigate a ghost town and the disappearance of an army." Her accent was thick as she spoke. She looked at the two men one last time before turning her attention back to the sheriff who spoke to the group. "A couple hours out and it already reeks of death?" She questioned before muttering something to herself in her native tongue. "I hope we haven't signed up for a suicide mission sheriff." Another statement before she reached for her weapon, making sure it was fully loaded she slipped it back into it's holster. Her senses coming alive with a shimmer in her eyes as she grew eager for potential confrontation. Not knowing who or what they would come across caused the corner of her lip to pull up, the thought of bloodshed causing her stomach to flutter with even more excitement.

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INTERACTIONS:

- @DrowsyPangolin (Virgil)
- @Epsir (Harmon)
- @Jack Robinson (Billy Summers)

MENTIONS:
N/A

 

[Chaac]

Cuco spurred his horse onwards towards the front of the group, looking uneasily at the crow that flew overhead, apparently accompanying the group. He'd shoot the damn bird if he wasn't aware that'd be just a waste of a bullet since it flew so high above. As he cut through the rank and file of riders in the group, he kept his head on a swivel, paying attention to the types of characters that had been gathered by the Sheriff. Women, blacks, weirdos… the man didn't seem to have high standards in his enlistment policies, and Cuco had to wonder exactly how much Summers knew about what they'd stumble upon once they reached Sully.

As he rode forth, one woman in particular caught his attention. She swayed back, forth and sideways in no particular rhythm, and appeared to be struggling to get comfortable with her dress whilst straddling her horse. He approached the dark-skinned woman, keeping pace with her and offered an sympathetic smile. "If I may be of assistance, señorita. I believe you might find it more comfortable to sit your horse sidesaddle." Knowing that his accent was thick, Cuco went ahead and brought one of his legs over and across the horse to face her and show her what he meant. "Like so," he said as he reached for her reins.

@Impudimp

 

[Impudimp]

Quick and instinctual her hand reached out swatting away the helping hand of the man who'd come baring words of wisdom. Polly tilted her head somewhat his way, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "'m a'right..." she voiced for the first time in what felt like ages. Her throat was dry and even she had to wince at the huskiness of her own voice. Maybe she was less glaring at this man and more so just mad in general that the sun never took a vacation and this god forsaken country was seemingly unable to produce clouds.

The dark woman fought the urge to retrain her angry eyes at the sky and just dare another hot ray of light to accost her. She was distracted though. A particularly hard trot and her dour expression transformed for the umpteenth time to one of brazen discomfiture, "Shhh... would'a been better a'walked..." Another hiss later and she couldn't find the pride to glare at the Southern man again. She was appropriately shame-faced as she swung her leg, carefully over the hump of her mounts backside and sat "sidesaddle" as suggested.

It was all her muscles needed. Thighs clamped shut tight for the first time in hours, and her features finally softened from shear relief. It was obvious at least a little bit of her ornery mood was due to the mean saddle burn she'd been enduring for the hours long ride. " 'm sorry..." She'd mumble, but it was something for the man's trouble. Maybe god saw fit to bless her rare show of humility. They were almost to their destination and she couldn't have been happier about it. The only thing worse than her raw inner thighs was the numb ache of her derriere. She would get some water when they stopped, then she'd run til the tingle left her dead legs.

@Chaac

 

[Epsir]

The darkness blow the straw man's covering shifted subtly as the passing woman looked back at them, her voice dripping with exotic tones that he could only hazard a guess in calling European. As it often happened in a life of crime, some small part of him had repressed the extraordinary details of their mission, at least the numbers involved. An army had indeed disappeared in this deprived, barren landscape, outside the sleepy town they'd thought too little of to stop by on their path to righteous punishment. The slumped man shrugged in acknowledgment. "Point taken," he said, and followed her lead in looking forward to their local sheriff and guide. "Aye boss," Harmon called forward, voice scratching as he raised his tone to answer the convoy lead. He spared a look towards Virgil, about to ask his comrade if he'd made ready... and remembered that a pickaxe didn't really misfire or reload.

For his own part he patted at his leg, withdrawing somewhat clumsily from his coat pocket the dulled metal body of his handgun. The scarecrow turned the chunky revolver over in his hands, pointing its twin barrels considerately out at the countryside as he spun the cylinder in his lap. Clean primers glimmered one at a time as they passed the loading gate. A twist, the hammer's sliding pin positioning over the 20 gauge sitting idle. That was good enough for Harmon, and the weapon disappeared back into his coat before he slid his rifle off of his shoulder and into his lap, always in reach in case someone - or, less comfortingly, something - managed to get the drop on them in this pancake-esque, deadened hell they moseyed through. He couldn't help but chuckle good-naturedly at the woman's statements. "Can't be, suicide missions promise better pay."

@Huntress
@DrowsyPangolin
@Jack Robinson

 

[Chaac]

Polly's sigh of relief made Cuco just giddy, and his smile probably betrayed the fact. Recalling the hoarseness of the dark woman's voice, he decided to continue further being a gentleman. Once more his leg went over and about his horse so as to straddle it, this time resulting in him facing backwards, and he lowered himself against his horse, legs afloat, so as to dig into his own saddlebags. He could reach his saddlebags just fine from a normal mounted position, but he figured this would be impressive or comical, and either option was better than boring. From his bags he procured two items: a silver flask and a canteen covered in cloth. Turning about once more on his saddle so as to face forward for once, he approached the former slave with both items in offering.

"I don't believe I have the pleasure of knowing your name, but you may call me whatever you like. Water?" he asked holding out the canteen. "Or maybe something for the pain?" At this second question he deftly opened the flask with his thumb and took a small sip from its content, allowing the firewater to burn down his throat, grimacing only slightly at the strength of the alcohol.

@Impudimp

 

[Impudimp]

She couldn't be called easily amused. Maybe at some point before humor became a luxury? The West was a hard type of place. Unless you found deserted towns, gun fights, and vicious nature humorous, you were shit out of luck half the time. The well-trained horticulturalist in her even cringed sometimes at the harshly cracked earth and desolate landscaping. She missed the color green quite a lot, not to mention humidity, which was a definite surprise.

Polly found herself pondering the last time she had genuinely laughed at something as she watched the tan-skinned man in his antics. Exactly who was he trying to impress? If anything her stare would be more curious toward him than jovial.

He seemed of the charming sort. Of course, this immediately set off all of her alarm bells, but she wouldn't pass up a drink. She reached out easily taking the canteen from his hands unphased at the slightest brushing of their fingers. Popping the top, she took a healthy drink before she bothered to respond to his honeyed words, "M' name's Polly." She'd use a long, white sleeve to wipe the dribbling of water from her lips. It was all she would offer him, but at least she sounded less like a neglected door hinge and more like a young woman. So that was a small courtesy to them both.

Her eyes didn't leave his as she offered back his canteen with a nod of thanks. If he gave her his name, she would use it, but she was reluctant to ask him what it was lest it start up a conversation. Polly couldn't be called much of a people person on the best of days. Too bullish... or was it boorish? Either way her manners were lacking, her conversation skills even less polished, and her attitude downright surly in most company. How she was going to make herself a good company member was anyone's guess. They had better luck making friends with one of the many cacti.

On second thought, maybe she should try being a little... softer? She didn't like the thought of being odd man out if they got into a skirmish. Self-preservation at least demanded she give the Mexican a small smile for his trouble.

@Chaac

 

[DrowsyPangolin]

Virgil nodded at the foreign woman's observation. "I s'pose that's fair enough. Does take a little bit of crazy to come out for something like this." His voice was rough, but friendly enough.

The sheriff's warning, though, helped to remind the masked man of just how crazy the whole affair was. Virgil's fingers tightened around his reins. Crazy or not, he figured there weren't many ways things could get worse than his current predicament... but then, he'd been wrong before.

The larger scarecrow noticed as his partner began checking his guns. It was a bit of an inconvenience that his own body wasn't cut out for the precision required by a firearm. But then, he'd never been much of a shot in the first place. Virgil patted the head of his pickaxe and gave Harmon a nod.

Dinah took one final circle and began a descent, her black wings batting against the scalding air. The crow landed on Virgil's shoulder with an irritable squawk, pecking slightly at the brim of his hat. Virgil turned to look at the bird, a gesture that was met by a series of nervous chirps. "I know girl. I know."

The scarecrow raised a hand to gently pet the crow's wing before producing a small crumb from his pocket to feed it.

"Well, looks like Dinah's none to happy about whatever we're riding into either."

 

[Huntress]

Raising a brow she glanced over her shoulder towards the two men that had caught her interest from the start. Slowing the beast she rode she waited to come in-line with the two. "Better pay? How much more do you need out here?" She questioned. "A piece of land, where you build your home and from then on, free reign to do as you please in a new world that is practically lawless." She smirked. "I cannot complain about something like that." She shrugged as she looked towards the heavily clothed figure. Hazel eyes shifted between the two as the larger man spoke as well, her attention was his, especially upon noticing the arrival of a large crow. "Back home there are several things that accompany the presence of a crow." She smirked and looked between the two. "I won't bore you with cultural folktales and superstitions. I'm glad the crow is here, regardless of what it sees, it'll show you the path." Whipping the reins slightly to get the horse moving the brunette trotted to the other side of the group. She stayed a decent distance from the sheriff but her eyes scanned the flat, barren and dry land for whatever could seem suspicious. They had time to kill and there was no harm in staying alert, especially when your life was potentially threatened. Although, her levels of excitement were much higher than her levels of worry and fear.

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INTERACTIONS:

- @DrowsyPangolin (Virgil)
- @Epsir (Harmon)

MENTIONS:
- @Jack Robinson (Billy Summers)