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[D6 Space] Power in the 'Verse IC - Deadwood

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This thread is for In Character posts related to the "Power in the 'Verse" PbP RPG. It is the third section of the game, following behind "Uroborus Belt."


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  • 1 month later...
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Widowmaker Mesa, Deadwood – 122 kilometers Southeast of Purdy Township


The dry wind whipped up from the arroyo. Junior pulled the bandana he used to keep the larger dust particles from the NewTech filter mask he’d picked up from a trader from the Core a few months back. Thing had clogged within the first two weeks, then the Ranch Foreman had hit on the idea of lending the piece of gou shi a little low tech help.


Junior wiped a film of dust from his goggles, pulled the brim of his hat lower, and dropped into the arroyo, ignoring the stinging of the sand on the exposed skin on the side of his face.


When he reached the bottom, he pulled the two pistols from his holsters and gave them a going over, to make sure they’d be in shape to do what was necessary if the momentary glimmer of light he’d seen an hour ago meant what he thought it meant. He wasn’t often wrong on these things. He just hoped that his pa wouldn’t find out. He was too old for a whippin’, but he didn’t want the disapproving look so much.


And, bein’ Justice Stillman’s son, an ass-kickin’ wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility neither.


He kept low, moving quickly down the crack in the mesa, until he reached the end and slowly started to climb.



Loren “Red” Beaumont wiped the sweat from his eyes and raised the battered old binoculars to his face. Off to the South, he could see the dust of the posse pursuing the others. He wasn’t about to get taken down with them no more. Little Bill Kwan had been Gao gan, the brains of the outfit, until he flipped his lid during the payroll job in the Bank back in Purdy Township. No one was supposed to get hurt, that was the plan. Knock out the security cameras, hold the customers just long enough to grab the payroll, then hightail it out before Sheriff Stillman and his Deputies showed up.


Then that little kid made a run for the door, yellin’ his sha gua head off for help, and Little Bill had shot his legs out from under him. When the boy’s ma, seein’ her young ‘un gunned down, went after Little Bill, Bill had been linin’ up to shoot her too. That was when Red had decided enough was enough and shot Little Bill. Granted, he’d only shot him in the shoulder, but at that point things went tian fuhn di fu.


They’d grabbed the horses and made a run for it, the payroll with Little Bill’s old mare, and argued like hell for the first fifty klicks. When Bill promised Red he’d kill ‘im as soon as he got to feelin’ better, Red lit out, leavin’ his share of the money behind.


He grimaced, looking at the dust cloud moving off. To his right he heard a voice.


“Get up, Mister. You’re bound by law. Get up slow and don’t try nothin’ foolish, or I’m gonna put you in the ground.”


Red couldn’t make out the face of this Deputy under the goggles and bandana. But whoever it was, he weren’t about to rot in jail the rest of his days over Little Bill Kwan bein’ a Fei fei de pi yan. He stood up, hands out to his sides.


“Hey there, Deputy. I ain’t gonna try nothin’, ya got me, sure enough.” Red put his hands behind his head, a rueful grin on his face. The Deputy approached, putting his gun in the holster as he pulled his handcuffs.


Red pulled the double-barreled sawed off shotgun from the hideaway sling over his shoulder. If he was lucky, and a good enough shot, he’d only wound this Deputy and be on his way. Before the shotgun was even pointing in the Deputy’s general direction, and before the handcuffs that the Deputy had just dropped had hit the ground, the two pistols were in the Deputy’s hands, both barking as one. Red felt the impacts in his gut, was thrown to the ground by the force of them, and the pain.


“Leng xue za zhong, Deputy! Jesus, I ain’t never seen a body pull that fast… You’d be Sheriff Stillman’s boy.”


The Deputy holstered one pistol and pulled the bandana and filter mask with his free hand. Then he lifted the goggles. “Too bad you had to find out the hard way.”




“I heard you was fast, kid. Gorramit, I wouldn’t a believed it if’n ya hadn’t just shot me!”


“Don’t you fret about it. What’s done is done. Just lie still an’ don’t try to shoot me no more. I’m gonna see if I can get that bleedin’ stopped. I got some trainin’ on account of Pa – Sheriff Stillman’s tryin’ to modernize the department some.”


“I’m obliged to ya, Junior. Wouldn’t want to die out here on the Mesa.”


“Shouldn’t oughta be shootin’ at folks on the Mesa, then. What’s your name?”


“Folks call me Red, on account o’ my hair. Red Beaumont.”


Junior smiled as he broke out pressure bandages and coagulants. “Got me an uncle Red, too. Only he’s called that ‘cause Redemption’s kinda a mouthful.”


Junior was still patching the Outlaw when some of the rest of the Posse arrived, a half hour later. Sheriff Justice Stillman scowled at the scene. When he finally spoke, it was in a voice that sounded like he'd gargled with gravel and dust every day of his many years. “What the hell was you thinkin’, boy? Breakin’ off from the posse like that? You coulda been killed.”




“Coulda but weren’t. Less you’re gonna kill me, Sheriff.” Junior smiled up at the old man as his father lowered himself from the saddle.


“Temptin’, but not just now. Although if ya make a habit of it, I may need to make passin’ mention of it to your Ma. Why’s he getting’ patched up?”


“Took a peek at the security footage from the hidden camera when I split off from y’all at Heartbreak Ridge. Had it Broadwaved to my goggles.” Junior ignored the quick look of disdain that crossed his father’s features. “This’d be the fella what shot Little Bill Kwan in the bank. Conjured he mighta had a change o’ heart an’ forsaken his wicked ways.”


“Well, he’s in good company. Lot o’ folk done shot Little Bill today.”


Red sat up, wincing at the pain in his guts. “You killed Little Bill, Sheriff?”


A high cloud obscured the relentless sun for a moment. Sheriff Stillman looked down at the wounded prisoner. “Yeah.”




Stillman turned to his son. “Best get ‘im in the hover with the survivors of Kwan’s gang and head for home. Your Ma finds out we run ‘em to ground this early an’ still missed supper she’ll have our skins.”


Junior grinned at the thought. “Yes sir, Pa.”

Edited by Lee Torres
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  • 2 weeks later...

The day was hot, this was only slightly mitigated by the old, hard to find parts for, air conditioners within the Tailor shop of Ruko Yumide. The Asian had on his brown short sleeve shirt and wide legged pants. His jacket was slung over his should and arm guards was moved to hang from his belt. He walked over to one of the many mirrors with comb in hand passing a old hanging bow, he smoothed out his hair when he finally reached the mirror. Ruko's hair is rimmed with electric blue except for the back of his head starting an inch past his ears, the rest of the hair is black and the style is a short flat-top cut, after perfecting his appearance he waited several minutes to be sure that no more customers would be arriving, it had been a slow day due to the heat anyway.


Ruko eventually closed the shop, which consisted of flipping a sign. Before locking up, however, he collected his revolver, stowing it in his holster, hid his laser pistol, and stowed his Wakizashi in it's sheath. Normally he wouldn't be quite as decked out on armaments, but he, along with everyone else on Deadwood knew what time of year it was.

After closing the shop he journeyed over to the Tavern greeting people as he met them. When he arrived he ordered his usual for hot weather, well, any weather really... a strawberry protein shake.

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  • 1 month later...

Deadwood – Purdy Township




A gusty wind from the east pushed endless light-brown dust along the streets of Purdy Township. It was mid-afternoon, and the people waited inside the relative cool of the buildings for the worst of the heat to pass. A fan-truck hovered in along Main, leaving a column of dust behind it that the driver seemed determined would not overtake his vehicle.


Kitty Bennett sat in the back of the fan-truck, leaning to counterbalance the lurches that the old truck seemed determined to torment them with. Balancing was something she intuitively did after spending much of her youth on horseback at her parent’s estate on Londinium. She’d had a bright future, participating in many Tetrathonlons, easily dominating the equestrian and rifle category events with her inborn grace and precision. She’d had a good life on Londinium.


She looked across the bed of the truck at the opposite bench, where Wallace Beaulieu leered at her, while wiping his nose on his sleeve. He licked his lips, she hoped not suggestively, then turned and spat the dust off his tongue. She wondered what the appeal was to a dried out Sheriff’s Deputy on the last world before the Edge of the ‘Verse. Probably just gender. She had a long duster, boots, a broad-brimmed hat, goggles and a filter mask on. What must she look like?


“Straight off the fashion-show runways of Sihnon, no doubt. Hotter than the weather” she muttered. She adjusted the protective sleeve on her sniper rifle. Which again she hadn’t used. She’d had Little Bill Kwan in her sights, but when things went wrong, Sheriff Stillman had gunned the man down so quickly that she might have missed it had she blinked.


The fan-truck glided to a stop in front of Choi’s Tavern, and the Deputies leapt out into the wall of dust riding up on them. In a mob, they made their way into the doors.


“Ladies first, Miss Bennett…” said Wally Beaulieu, holding the door.


“See this star, Wally?” Kitty asked, pointing to the left side of her duster. Wally seemed too preoccupied with what was beneath the Sheriff’s Deputy star to pay it much attention. Kitty took the edge of the door and walked past. Entering the dim and cool exterior, she could guess where Wally’s eyes were now. Scanning the tavern, she spotted some of the regulars, and the tailor, Ruko Yumide. He seemed a decent enough sort, at least compared to everyone else in Purdy Township. Kitty made her way to the bar and gestured at the empty barstool next to him. “Is this seat taken?”

Edited by Lee Torres
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Ruko was nursing his shake when a figure appeared in his periphery. He was about to say something when she asked about the seat. The voice was familiar and then it dawned.


"eto... dozou." he paused and then corrected, "Bennett-san, no the seat's not taken. Go ahead." He smiled as she joined him. It was nice to have the law around.


"How have you been?" He asked sipping on his drink.

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  • 5 months later...

Stillman Ranch - Deadwood - December 22, 2518 (One Week Later)





Sheriff Stillman, his family, and a small contingent of armed ranch-hands watched as the approaching freighter descended toward the flat desert south of the ranch house. The tailor, Ruko Yumide, hovered close to Justice Jr., having been present on the ranch to fit the young man for a decent suit of clothes to wear for Purdy Township's Christmas Feast tomorrow night.




The message they'd received, that these travelers carried a gift and a message from his nephew Ben, didn't quite sit right with the Sheriff, although for the life of him he couldn't get to the bottom of why. He scowled as the Firefly class freighter settled onto its landing legs.




"Boys, best be ready fer any gorram thing might happen."


The ranch-hands prepared their weapons. They kept alert as the ramp of the fiery bird-themed ship descended.



Edited by Lee Torres
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Ruko rests his hand above his S2 pistol unsure as to exactly what's going on, something about a gift. Whatever it is though clearly has everyone out of sorts. He traced the descent of the sun reflected ship with his eyes until it landed. He quickly glanced over to his client, not to seek any new information, but to check the outfit one last time. He then resumed keeping track of the new guests or rather their transportation waiting to see who or what would emerge.

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Emmett gripped a bulkhead as Kagome deftly landed the Phoenix. "Another shiny landin', darlin'... uhh, Captain." The dust settled outside the viewport and he surveyed the landing site. "T'ain't much of a ranch, but I s'pose these folks call it home." Each of the ranch-hands poked through the cloud one by one. Emmett noted their weaponry and got on the intercom. "Okay crew, we's ready ta unload, mind yer manners out there an' keep it civil. We ain't got no trouble with these here folks. Just a gift and a message."


The ex-lawman tipped his hat to the lady in the pilot's seat as he exited the bridge, bound for the hold.

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In the cargo bay, Jessup was loading the crate onto the Mule. "About set ta fly, Emmett. Any notion on how far off she set us from that ranch?"


Jude arrived on the stairs, made his way down to the bay deck. "It looks as though we're fairly close. We might not even need the Mule."


"I'll be gorramed if I'm gonna haul a crate o' rifles cross the burnin' sod like some ruttin'..." Jessup's mouth snapped shut and he fell silent, looking up the stairs. He'd been trying to avoid more colorful language in the presence of Constance Yu. She descended the steps, listening to the conversation.


"...rifle-box-haulin'-thing" Jessup finished.

Edited by Lee Torres
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"He's right, we's close, but best bring the mule anyways... in case we's in need of a hasty retreat." Emmett checks his revolver and gives it a spin. "We ain't lookin' fer trouble, but they's pretty well armed. Hell, they ain't even gonna need them rifles considerin' what they's packin'." He gazes out the back of the Phoenix as the dust continues to swirl about the ramp.


"Aight, let's do it, and how's about we keep our wits about us, eh?" He hops aboard the mule with a wink towards Constance.

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Ruko saw the ramp to the Firefly-class transport lower and a vehicle emerge, but a gust of sand filled wind blinded him to the occupant, occupants? All he could make out was potential Cargo and a driver. Once he realizes that the newcomers are in fact approaching the Ranch he gripped his gun, but doesn't remove it.


"Sheriff-san, you recognize anyone from that boat? ... maybe we should get that suit somewhere safe."

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Emmett holds his hat as the mule slows to a stop. The sand and wind bite at his face. Quite a change from the processed air aboard the Phoenix and the Rock. Still, it felt more real and let a man know that he was alive.


He whispered to the Captain "Stay with the mule, ma'am, if'n we needs a quick gitaway, y'alls the one we need at that there wheel." He raised his voice towards Jessup, "c'mon, ya old Browncoat. Christmas is comin' early to these folk this year... grab yer sack o' goodies."

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