Shorikid

"Mister Quinton, truth be told, I've felt bad about this whole trip.", Orrin shrugged just a little setting the coffee pot down having just freshened up his cup, "My teeth have been itching for last few hours." A few steps put him over to the window where he could see the hills rolling past. Orrin tried to pry something out of the brush and dust that they passed. His cup rose and fell as he sipped down the dark, bitter brew. Glancing back toward the rest taking their rest there, Orrin lifted brow toward Jessie Mae, "Macbeth, now ma'am?" He shook his head a bit and with a growl he opened a window just enough to flick the last of his coffee out of it. "How about we all check our irons, breath a bit easier, an' keep our eyes peeled." Orrin took enough time to meet each of their eyes if that's what it took and he did thumb back the gate of the Colt that was smoothly in his hand. It dropped back into it's leather just as quickly.

Orrin has just settled his gear along the wall as the other men piled in. And he bit his tongue as they wagged theirs. "Misters, look. We're not cuttin' in on your dance. We are just hired hands, here to help with keeping the train running down the tracks and back." Jessie Mae, Maxwell, Doyl, Coro. Lord All Mighty, they were an odd lot mixed all together. As the men made eyes Coro, Orrin got his hackles up a bit. He wasn't a big man, and trying to loom over someone wasn't his way. But, he could change a man's mind with a look or a word. Some were kind, some could be hard and cold. So, he too a step forward, just that small step with a scuff of his boot. "How about we all worry about how many people would put holes in our hide for half of what's in our pockets? Not to mention what's in this car." Coro had a point, and Maxwell was unloading more words than Orrin had heard in a month. He blinked to clear his ears and mind and focused on Quinton. He tried to gauge the man's reaction. Something about it just, didn't sit right. "Ladies got a point. But, you pay the bills boss man. I can stick right here with the other hands and keep this place safe and secure." Orrin lifted his chin toward Maxwell, "What do you say. You think you could spin a yarn for Thames and Mullins here? Keep our eyes from dryin' out." Orrin figured to get attention split up off the ladies, away from ones spouting Latin and looking like they could chew nails.

He's a good fella, don't let the air of mischief fool you. I'm still in the middle of moving. And by the middle, I have a mattress on the floor, a tv and a coffee maker. I've been like this for weeks through delayed closings. Bear with me folks.

Orrin has just listened to the man with the fancy words. Just a little to close to home so to speak to make him perfectly comfortable with the man. He had stood, nodded to the man with the white handlebars, and looked to the lady and her pint sized companion. Seemed there would be plenty of company on the train after all. "I take it we call all handle iron if the need arises?" Yes, he'd caught sight of the hog-leg hanging from Doyln's belt. Thing barely cleared the board walk they were so short. Not much more than a kid, still wet behind the ears as likely as not. And Coro, was a slip of a thing. There were a few gents. A man covering all the world's best words with honey and a touch of oil. And then the lean fella, with the quick eyes, Orrin marked him as trouble, not the sort one braced given a choice. "I'll see you all come morning then." There wasn't a point in sticking around to chew the fat, things were moving along and he just had to get himself set and settle so he could leave come morning. Orrin gave a nod and a tip of the hat and had departed as the smooth talker just kep on talking. Too many words for him anyways. Now, come the next day he was at the station with the rest with the sun sitting high in the sky. Saddle bags over his shoulder and bedroll under his arm along with his rifle scabbard. Orrin walked the length of the train before Morris called out to him and some of the others from the previous day. He ambled that way, boots, stirring bits of dust as he walked. He didn't look quite so thread bear and worn as he had the day before, with his gear neat the the trail dust cleaned off. That might even be a fresh shave and a hair cut, bought and paid for, showing from under the brim of his hat. "No, no sir Mister Morris. It's a fine train. You 'aught to be proud." As the door slid back, he like the others, leaned his head in enough looking around to to get the lay of things. He nodded, seeing the mail bags, the Gatling on it's rail and the iron plates. It was a fortress on rails. But, the curious thing. That crate. Something about it stood out just a little too much. That wasn't freight. That was the cargo they were keeping safe. Something, or someone was in that great big box that was important enough to put on all this fuss about. More men too. It was going to be half way crowded in here with the three extra men. Orrin gave each a nod as they were introduced, "Orrin Garrison.", he offered. The lady from the day before inquired about the Gatling, "Miss, Coro was it?, if it's all the same to you, I'll stick with a rifle and six shooter if you don't mind. Hopefully we won't need that Gatlin' though. Be a real bad day if we do."

Bit of scramble everywhere I guess. Down to the wire in the next 3-4 weeks on two home sales and 3 moves out of that. Hang in there with me folks.

Orrin sat the bench outside the train station and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees as he looked up and down the boarded walks of Doddsville. Taking his hat off to dust the brim a bit and pick away a few burrs that had stuck from the last high wind he had sat through out on the trail. He was dusty and worn head to heel and just looked tired. A man in need of a respite, a cool shady place to rest up an' heal up for a couple of days. His eyes cut back and forth between a couple of the people there before raking a hand through the mop of dark hair and fit his hat back into place. As he settled it down into place, he straightened up as a fella with far too nice and clean a set of cloths came out of the depot office. Squinting against the bright sun that back lit the old man that addressed a folks milling about near the line's ticket window. He made his offer and Orrin did the math in his head. Eight days and he could make more than two months pushing cows, or what he could make law doggin' down near the Coyote Territories. His mouth twisted a bit as the young slip of a girl spoke up, gettin' in some good questions. She had a sharper edge to her voice than you would expect for such a little thing, but took all kinds to make it west of the Mississippi. The slicked up fella with the suitcase big enough for everything Orrin had ever owned to fit in introduced himself to the girl, taking in the whole thing. Leaning back a bit, Orrin lifted his chin a bit in an upward nod, "How much trouble you expecting on this mail train mister? Ten dollars a day is might good pay to sit and eat your food for the next week." He was quick to add, "Not that I mind a bit of trouble for those kinda dollars. Just like to be around to collect them."

Kansas rail hubs, historically there due to cattle, would bring people into the area and you could hand wave it a bit too. Memphis is easy. River boat up to St. Louis, train westward toward Some place like Kansas City, with Doddsville being a lady one, rail switch, or water stop. I can do the others too! Just stuck at work.

I think I've reached the point where I'm going to need a hand on the mechanics. I'm assuming 4 advancements to get to Seasoned. The shift between the basic SWADE and th Deadlands take are going to leave me kind of lost. And with the rework of the background it feels a little more ready to go without making Orrin 30+, which is pushing it for more than ten years past his formative events.

Lemons, thanks for the info. Time lines, character ages, etc make for fun when the time line has changed on you.

Sorry for the slow start. Trying to get all of this in while dealing with realtors and house repairs and work madness! Laird, just for the sake of detail, what is the current in game year and status of the conflict back East? I've not had my hands on books in...a while. Working out the history, have the sketch of stats, but they aren't finished.

History(WIP): Grab a cup and have a seat by the fire, and don't squat on yer spurs. Now, every good son of Charleston knows what his duty is, and to whom he is supposed to be loyal. While the Garrisons ain't anywhere near the aristocratic upper crust, they weren't the bottom either. Now the hottest parts of the war are past, you know this, I know this and just about everyone knows this. Just about I said. Yeah, I know, Lee surrendered at Appomattox. Some folks didn't let that get in their way of tryn' to slow up Reconstruction or put a thumb in the eye of Federal's anytime they could. Was a son of Charleston supposed to side with a reconciled Union, or still stand with their state? Well, you look at where your oath is supposed to be right? Orrin had his eyes on West Point and a posting in the Army out West. So, he made the hardest call he had to in the youngin' life. Till then. See the Legarde family had loads of pull in Charleston, and South Carolina, and Thom Garrison was close to the Legarde scion Emerson. See, Emerson father fancied himself the next governor of the state and figured he could court all the old an' powerful families. Stir up a bit of trouble for the Federal troops, be a bit of a firebrand and get enough of a following to take the statehouse. Now Thom was Orrin's older brother. Yeah, was. When Thom was dragged along by Emerson to blow up a powder magazine down at the Battery, Orrin begged him not to go. He saw the trouble of that. This was more than drunken talk, or shouting at troops as they marched through the city. The attempt to blow up the Federal stores went badly. Some of the boys died, and several were taken prisoner. That included Thom. Well, the trial was swift and the sentence sure and harsh. Hanging by the Federal troops. Orrin was heart broken, and when the hanging was done, he was him and his father that buried Thom. Now see, here's the thing, Emerson got away. Enough green backs, some promises and some liquor to the right officers and the Legarde's son not only walked free, but his name got scratched out of reports and letters. He was never there. And it was made clear that all Orrin and his folks had to do was stay quiet, wait on Raymond Legarde to be governor and all their grief and trouble would be worth it. So, Orrin had a piece of work to do. It was a fool's errand to get revenge. Surely it was. And Orrin was the right fool for the job, or so he thought. For a young man like Orrin getting into the Legarde house wasn't that hard. The doorman let him in easy enough. Orrin had made calls on the house with Thom after all. The first family member to greet him was Marilyn, the youngest sister, and they made some small talk while waiting on Emerson to join them. When Emerson came down along with his father, Raymond with him, Orrin tried to play it close to the vest and put on a good show. Trouble was, he wasn't a liar. Not that he wasn't good at it, Orrin just couldn't do it. Half a breath in and the Legarde men knew something was up. Even young Marilyn was givin' him an eye. That flare of anger his Orrin an' came into his voice. The shouts that started up could have brought servants if there had been time. But, pistols came out and Orrin got his shots off first. In the rollin' cloud o'smoke it was hard to see more than shapes and spurts of fire. Curses and screams followed Orrin as he staggered from the house. He made his horse an' rode hell for leather away from the Legarde house. In his wake he left Raymond dead, and both Emerson and Marilyn on the floor bleeding. Orrin didn't come away clean. He carried lead out in his left leg. He bandaged himself up and rode west, one skip ahead of the law until he crossed the Mississippi River. Fever an' fear followed him the same way. The leg would never heal right and leave him with a limp. A sold horse, a new name and Orrin started building his new life. First as a cow puncher down toward Kansas way. A few months as a deputy in some cowtown that won't last more than three seasons if ya ask me. He chased a man down into Coyote Confederation territory and barely got out of there with his hair attached. And went as far south as Texas to turn his man over to the Territorial Ranger's in Fort Worth. Meeting those Ranger's put the idea in Orrin's head that he could do more than push cows and maybe put drunks in a cell somewhere like Dodge City or Tombstone. Now, as long as no one shows up from his past, or they don't figure out he used to wear a different name, he might be able to make that work. Now, Doddsville Kansas isn't the best place for a fresh start, but, it was a place.

Orrin Garrison Seasoned Agility d8 Smarts d6 Spirit d6 Strength d6 Vigor d8 Pace 6 Running Die d6 Parry 5 Toughness 6 (#) Bennies/Conviction 3 / - SKILLS Athletic Common Knowledge Notice Persuasion Stealth Fighting Intimidate Shooting Survival Riding d4 d4 d6 d8 d4 d6 d8 d6 d6 d6 HINDRANCES Heroic (Major) You always help those in need. Or try to take care of those who can't take care of themselves Code of Honor (Major) You're true to your word. Always. EDGES Charismatic: People like you, you get a free reroll when using Persuasion POWERS Powers: Power Points: Backlash: PORTRAIT GOES HERE LANGUAGES English (native), Language 1, Language 2 GEAR Cash: $7 List of gear BACKGROUND Grab a cup and have a seat by the fire, and don't squat on yer spurs. Now, every good son of Charleston knows what his duty is, and to whom he is supposed to be loyal. While the Garrisons ain't anywhere near the aristocratic upper crust, they weren't the bottom either. Now the hottest parts of the war are past, you know this, I know this and just about everyone knows this. Just about I said. Yeah, I know, Lee surrendered at Appomattox. Some folks didn't let that get in their way of tryn' to slow up Reconstruction or put a thumb in the eye of Federal's anytime they could. Was a son of Charleston supposed to side with a reconciled Union, or still stand with their state? Well, you look at where your oath is supposed to be right? Orrin had his eyes on West Point and a posting in the Army out West. So, he made the hardest call he had to in the youngin' life. Till then. See the Legarde family had loads of pull in Charleston, and South Carolina, and Thom Garrison was close to the Legarde scion Emerson. See, Emerson father fancied himself the next governor of the state and figured he could court all the old an' powerful families. Stir up a bit of trouble for the Federal troops, be a bit of a firebrand and get enough of a following to take the statehouse. Now Thom was Orrin's older brother. Yeah, was. When Thom was dragged along by Emerson to blow up a powder magazine down at the Battery, Orrin begged him not to go. He saw the trouble of that. This was more than drunken talk, or shouting at troops as they marched through the city. The attempt to blow up the Federal stores went badly. Some of the boys died, and several were taken prisoner. That included Thom. Well, the trial was swift and the sentence sure and harsh. Hanging by the Federal troops. Orrin was heart broken, and when the hanging was done, he was him and his father that buried Thom. Now see, here's the thing, Emerson got away. Enough green backs, some promises and some liquor to the right officers and the Legarde's son not only walked free, but his name got scratched out of reports and letters. He was never there. And it was made clear that all Orrin and his folks had to do was stay quiet, wait on Raymond Legarde to be governor and all their grief and trouble would be worth it. So, Orrin had a piece of work to do. It was a fool's errand to get revenge. Surely it was. And Orrin was the right fool for the job, or so he thought. For a young man like Orrin getting into the Legarde house wasn't that hard. The doorman let him in easy enough. Orrin had made calls on the house with Thom after all. The first family member to greet him was Marilyn, the youngest sister, and they made some small talk while waiting on Emerson to join them. When Emerson came down along with his father, Raymond with him, Orrin tried to play it close to the vest and put on a good show. Trouble was, he wasn't a liar. Not that he wasn't good at it, Orrin just couldn't do it. Half a breath in and the Legarde men knew something was up. Even young Marilyn was givin' him an eye. That flare of anger his Orrin an' came into his voice. The shouts that started up could have brought servants if there had been time. But, pistols came out and Orrin got his shots off first. In the rollin' cloud o'smoke it was hard to see more than shapes and spurts of fire. Curses and screams followed Orrin as he staggered from the house. He made his horse an' rode hell for leather away from the Legarde house. In his wake he left Raymond dead, and both Emerson and Marilyn on the floor bleeding. Orrin didn't come away clean. He carried lead out in his left leg. He bandaged himself up and rode west, one skip ahead of the law until he crossed the Mississippi River. Fever an' fear followed him the same way. The leg would never heal right and leave him with a limp. A sold horse, a new name and Orrin started building his new life. First as a cow puncher down toward Kansas way. A few months as a deputy in some cowtown that won't last more than three seasons if ya ask me. He chased a man down into Coyote Confederation territory and barely got out of there with his hair attached. And went as far south as Texas to turn his man over to the Territorial Ranger's in Fort Worth. Meeting those Ranger's put the idea in Orrin's head that he could do more than push cows and maybe put drunks in a cell somewhere like Dodge City or Tombstone. Now, as long as no one shows up from his past, or they don't figure out he used to wear a different name, he might be able to make that work. Now, Doddsville Kansas isn't the best place for a fresh start, but, it was a place.

Laird, I'm 15 years past my last DL game. I have the basic SWADE core rules. Got enough patients to help a fella get through this process? I'll start on a concept tomorrow if so.

Okay, I haven't played SW in about 10 years, has there been any major changes? I'll look into getting the rules set tonight if I think I can keep up with the pace you are looking for and you have room for someone of....shaky mechanical knowledge of the game system.