Dogs in God's Vineyard, Episode One: The Red Road

((A note: This RP was originally posted by Kalandri back when ASN had a RP board. I asked for his permission to put it back up here, and he agreed.))

This is the west that never quite was.

It's an alternate version of history, loosely based on Mormon life in the 1800's. I say loosely, because this religion, that I shall call "The Faith," is not really the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Mormon preachers don't shoot sinners in the street. But you might.

You see, imagine a rocky desert like Utah, Nevada, and the like, with snaking rivers and impressive cliffs. Imagine indigenous mountain peoples ("Indians," if you will) living on the plains. Imagine a mighty city of zealots flanked by four huge waterfalls. Imagine a religious group that the United States territorial authority butts heads with often. Imagine cowboys armed with "The Book of Life" dragging out a whore by her hair and forcing her to repent or face the wrath of God.

Can you kind of see the picture here? Are you interested? Let me be more clear:

Who are you: The watchdogs of God. Your character is a cross between an inquisitor, a missionary, an exorcist, and a monk. You carry both scriptures and bullets, you bring both blessings and judgment.

What's going on: A lot. Mountain folk don't like white man encroaching upon their turf. Sinners don't like repenting. Towns don't like their dirt being pulled up for all to see. The Territorial Authority doesn't like the Faith's habit of foregoing standard trials for confession and repentance.

Where are you?: A beautiful rocky desert with a couple forests to the north and more than a few natural wonders. Lots of dust. Lots of grime and grit. Lots of blood, and lots of frontier justice.

When is all this?: 1800's. Think cowboys and westerns, complete with big hats, horses, six-shooters and Clint Eastwood.

Why are you doing what you're doing?: Because the King of Life or one of his counselors called you to be God's Watchdog, a defender of the Faith, the hammer upon which you beat men until they are purified. Maybe your character is a convert from the East and it's industrial worldliness and filth. Maybe you were raised by the Mountain people and are the token ethnic bad@$$ Native American "Aragorn" of the group. Maybe you were raised in the Faith. Whatever the case is, you are a Dog, and you work in God's Vineyard.

How do you do it?: Prayer. Faith. Exhortation. Blessing babies. Shooting sinners. It's difficult, but straightforward. What nobody tells you is that the hardest part of being a Dog is to keep believing you are really what you think you are. When bullets bounce off your coat and when you are calling the dead by name to draw breath once more, you might think you're preaching the truth. When you're bleeding on the ground, when farmer Jeremiah kills his wife, when you saw humanity in that sinner's eyes, you might lose your faith. Just remember, I'm not telling you if The Faith your character belongs to is true or not. I'll leave it to you.

THEMES

Redemption. Forgiveness. Fair enough.

Death, loss, grief, doubt. Dramatic.

Shooting, brawling, chasing on horseback. Good fun.

Is the Faith true? I don't know. Just don't be obvious, like have glowing miracles occur or demons appear or something. Play it straight. Pretend the world is like real life; as long as I'm talking about it, remember, no Rambo stunts, please.

Otherwise, just remember that I want this game to be DRAMATIC. I want tragedy. I want angsty characters (but if more than one person pulls the "my parents died" card I'm gonna be peeved). Your characters can be male or female, of any able age and marital status. The only tie that binds is your status as a Dog. This means you can declare doctrine. Yes you heard me, you can make up the religion's rules on the spot. Just keep it real, alright? No "sacrifice a donkey," let's play it like a psuedo-christian cult. Your character should have about a paragraph of backstory. Be sure to include at least one family member or friend, at least one favorite possession, and at least one struggle or contradiction in your character's personality.

The Faith doesn't take kindly to loners; the Dogs work as a group. All Dogs have a long, patch-work coat worn at all times as an emblem of their position, a sturdy horse, a Book of Life, a jar of consecrated earth (holy dirt to sprinkle during rituals or something), and some form of gun.

Game System

You will post what your character does, and you can go ahead and describe whatever you want, so long as you don't resolve the action wholesale. Make sure you leave room for everyone to contribute meaningfully to a situation. Don't be a butt-hole; I know RPers are mature and courteous, so I have very high expectations.

I will adjudicate only FINAL RESOLUTION, that is, you can describe anything short of obviously ending the conflict. I'll decide the final outcome after the dust settles. Note that the more your character sacrifices, the more likely he is to win (getting hit with bullets or taking insults to heart is sure to win my sympathy).

Other Stuff

The Faith moved to the west to escape persecution. The Territorial Authority, although not at war with the Faith, is often at odds with it, as their goals are usually the same but their means differ vastly. The Mountain Folk don't like the Faith, but the Faithful like them enough to try converting them, with limited success. It is said that the ancestors of the Mountain Folk were once Faithful, but they fell away long before the white man came.

Your characters are expected to travel from town to town, bless babies, officiate at weddings and such, and purge sinners. The adventure style will be episodic, with each town having it's own "episode."

Any questions?

Post your characters! There are four spots, five technically (I have taken the fifth one). At this point, I shall only accept four players. If at all possible try to play off other people's characters to make sure they get to have interesting interactions (a team of five "Zuko" type personalities just is not going to be very interesting). Your will be responsible in creating your own character sheet. It should not be too hard, shouldn't be that different from a generic character profile.

Try period style names. You can PM me if you have questions and such.

Write "A Dog in God's Vineyard" before posting your character for the first time. Otherwise, you will not be playing.

Hmm... anything else? Uh... oh yeah; I'll start the game and present the first town when everyone is ready. Only one character per person (obviously) and the rating of this RP, at best, will be T-M, depending.

Okay, the deal is, your characters travel to a town, do churchy things, and try to ferret out corruption. In essence, you're religious police, making sure everybody in the "town of the week" loves one another and all that. If someone is stealing, he needs a good talking to. If someone is killing, he needs a good hole in his head, but it's your call.

Your character can be hardline if you like, or perhaps you have a soft spot and forgive more often than not. Maybe you don't even believe in the Faith at all, but you have to pretend you do or else your teammates might judge YOU.

The towns will be very fluid and lifelike in their presentation. Each one I will put before you has one or more specific problems, and many NPC's with conflicting needs and schemes, and many people will want something from you. You can resolve these charged situations however you like; I'm gonna let it play out naturally.

That is all for now. Again, if you have any questions please PM me. Now, let the games begin!

A dog in God's Vineyard. Can I reserve one of the four?

"A Dog in God's Vineyard"

I would also like to reserve one of the 4, if possible.

Reserves are noted.

"A Dog in God's Vineyard"

I want one of the four too.

Name: Patrick McHiggin
Age: 25

Gender: Male

Appearance: Besides the the patched cloak that all Dogs wear, Patrick wears a simple white shirt and ragged jeans along with a black hat. His skin has become tanned from being in the sun a lot and his red hair is often unkempt.

Personality: Patrick is a kind enough person, but very stubborn and has a rather stubborn streak. He does what he believes is the right thing to do no matter what, even if it brings him in conflict with others. He isn't strict with his religon's doctrine, instead focusing on its more broad messages.

History: Patrick grew up in an immigrant household in one of the big cities along the East Coast. He doesn't remember his mother and the closest thing his dad had to a church was the local bar. He's faced prejudice firsthand for being Irish and for a long time, he never had much of a purpose in life until the Faith found him.
The new religion drew him in after he was taken into one of their make-shift clinics after one too many fights. When he was taught about the compassion and just values of the Faith, he found he couldn't walk away. He wanted to learn more. Soon, he was a full member of the Faith and a Dog, traveling into the West with the religion when it began to be persecuted. Now in the West, Patrick fights to sptread the Faith and Justice.

Weapons/Equipment: Patrick owns few possessions, in accordance with the Faith. He has one pistol and a knife strapped to his side, a pack full of necessities for camping out in the wild, a jar of consecrated earth, a Book of Life, and a black horse named Shadow.

Theme Song (because I feel like it): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3iHV84fKDA

Noted. One slot left!

Ah, what the hey. I'll reserve. Been a good while since I've been in an rp, could have a good time in here.

Also, A Dog in God's Vineyard.

Reserve is noted. All spots have now been taken. Get your characters up soon!

Oh, and your character is accepted AI.

Username: Plaguewalker

Name: Dwight Hutchins

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Appearance: The first most notable trait of Dwight are his deep green eyes. At first glance, they seem dull, but when one looks deeper, they can find the burning glint of something feral, and savage. His dirty blond hair falls just below his shoulder blades, although it’s usually tucked up under his light brown cowboy hat. His skin is tanned, and stained with dirt from his travels; his hands heavily calloused from ‘digging far too many graves for far too many men who didn’t deserve one.’ His body is slender and lean, his muscles strong from a adventurous life of fighting and serving the Faith. Beneath his patchwork coat, he wears a light, black shirt and a pair of equal dark pants. Under his arms are two holsters for his revolvers, which he keeps loaded at all times. On his feet, he wears a pair of light cowboy boots, the leather permanently stained with dirt and blood. He almost always has a cigarette perched between his dry lips, and seems to have a permanent case of five ‘o’clock shadow.

Personality: Dwight is always content, no matter what situation he and the Dogs end up in; be it downing a round of drinks, or trading insults with an enemy. In fact, it almost seems that he enjoys himself more the more challenging the situation becomes. He could be called arrogant, but Dwight is skilled enough to back up his claims with muscle, firepower and wit if need arises. His loyalty is questionable at times and it’s hard to tell if he really has his fellow Dogs’ best interests at heart. It’s hard to tell if he even actually practices the Faith, but he sure as hell upholds it’s laws; passing swift judgment to sinners and innocents alike.


History: Born in a frontier town, Dwight knows about the brutality of the West through first-hand knowledge. His parents worked hard to keep the boy safe from the storm of violence that is part of the daily life of the west, but Dwight was a curious boy, and learnt all about the dark side of the world from his grand-father, who ran a small store in town. It was his grand father that taught him how to shoot, and how to ride.

Before long, Dwight practically lived with his grandfather, working at the store full-time as his grandfather’s health began to deteriorate. This didn’t stop his lessons though, as the old man saw much of himself in his grandson and was determined to make him something that both he and his son could be proud of. He saw his dream come to fruition, before illness claimed his life. His parting gift to his grandson was a young sorrel colt, which Dwight named Warren after his grandfather.

Although no one is sure why, Dwight soon sold his grandfather’s store and left town, with only his grandfather’s rifle, the clothes on his back, and Warren. At the age of 22, he found himself a member of the Faith, although his reasons for joining are his alone to know. He became a Dog quickly, and set out to bring the West under the thumb of the Faith.

Weapons/Equipment: His grandfather’s repaired rifle, twin revolvers, a long knife decorated in strange little runes, and his horse, Warren. Also carries the Book of Life, and a small jar of consecrated dirt, although these rarely leave the confines of his saddlebags.

Theme Song: Any Means Necessary - Hammerfall

Username: Shadow Moonseye

Name: Lara
Age: 27
Gender: Female

Appearance: Lara has long black hair, which is more often than not worn in a thick braid. Her dark eyes are sharp, and always alert. Her skin is heavily tanned, and it is obvious that she is a full blood Native. A few scars litter her body here and there, and over the course her life-time several fingers have been broken. Her hands are calloused from years of work. Her clothing consists of a simple blue button up shirt with the sleeve’s rolled up to just below her elbow, durable brown pants that are secured to her with a belt, doeskin riding chaps, cowboy boots, and a black bowler hat. A turquoise and bone choker decorates her neck, and a bone bracelet decorates her left wrist. Rounding out her outfit is the signature patchwork jacket of the Dogs.

Personality: Lara is quiet, she keeps to herself, rarely sharing thoughts or feelings with her partners. She seems distant from the other Dogs, as if there is a space between them that is impossible to bridge. A kind of silent anger appears to radiate from her, but the only sign of it is a frown that seems to be permanently etched into her features. Though she shows all signs of believing in the Faith, but only she knows the true extent of her faith.

History: Lara was born to the Mutanka tribe (Made the tribe up, can easily change it to a real one if need be). Her mother and father raised her to be a good proper tribeswoman, being sure to teach her many skills, along with imparting a healthy dose of hate for the white man. She grew to be a proud, strong woman, skilled in both matters domestic and those often left to the men. She often traveled with other members of her tribe seeing the white man’s way of life first hand. When she was 24 however, her life changed. She went out on her own, stopping by a small town on her way to another Mutanka village. While she was there, a stray remark to herself was heard by a Dog of the Faith. A fight ensued, and she found herself with a gun pressed against her forehead and an ultimatum laid out before her. Convert or die. She did what was necessary to survive, and converted with the intent to leave soon as the Dog left. It wasn’t to be, though. She was dragged off with the Dog, and soon found herself ever deeper in the Faith. She too eventually became a Dog, working to spread and uphold the Faith. She’s been a Dog for two years, and was just assigned to this Pack.

Weapons/Equipment: She carries two knives on her, one worn openly on her right thigh and one hidden in a boot, a revolver holstered on her left hip, and a shotgun worn across her back or on the saddle. She also has a Book of Life, a jar of consecrated earth, and a small pack of necessities. Her horse is a sturdy stallion, dark grey(almost blue) with black mane and tail, black legs, and a black dorsal stripe down the spine. He is called Enapay.

Inspiration Song/Theme Song: You Found Me by The Fray

Good, both are accepted. Once nando gets his character up, I shall get mine up as well and we will begin.

Name: Marcus Waldwell
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Appearance: Over all, he will most likely be seen wearing his large Dog coat. After one’s gaze has penetrated his coat or his hood, you will see his bright grey eyes, which many women tend to fall for quickly. He has long, black and straight hair which reaches a little farther down passed his shoulders. His tan skin is from being under the sun for so much time as a kid, for now he wears his coat which protects him. Marcus isn’t a ripped kind of guy, but neither is he a skinny, lame man. He’s somewhere between those 2, but more to the side of ripped.
Beneath his coat, he wears a brown shirt, and long baggy jeans followed by dark brown leathered boots. On his right side, strapped to his belt is his Anaconda. A silver colt that shoots bullets near the size of a fat man’s thumb. And on his left side, he has another thing strapped to his belt. A leather made pouch in which he carries 4 long knives, and finally strapped to his ankle is the knife of his murdered mother.

Personality: A very stubborn guy Marcus is. He doesn’t have much patience, he’s kind of reckless and violent. However, he likes to have fun. Smoking is his favorite habit. His first cigar was at the age of 23, and since then, he hasn’t stopped smoking. He believes greatly in the Faith, even though it is hard for others to notice. But if you are part of the public in one of his speeches, or when he takes his certain measures to convert people you will notice or take a glance of his faith.

History: In the frontiers of the west and the east laid a farm, a small farm worked by a small family, the Waldwell family. The mother was a beautiful woman covered by dirt and bruises for the man of the house was an abusive drunk. Marcus was an only child and he was the second man of the house and with it came a lot of work and responsibility even though he was just a small kid. Around the farm, he usually had to do a man’s work since the age of 9. If the kid did anything wrong, no matter how irrelevant or unimportant, he got a beating.

At the age of 19 his father killed his mom and Marcus raged with anger. Marcus tried to kill his dad, however, he was unsuccessful. They got into a huge fist fight until Marcus took out his mother’s knife which was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship but, his father then took out his six-shooter, a six rounds big barreled revolver which was bound to blow up a man’s head at close range. His father lowered his revolver and told him to get out of his life…forever. And so he did.

Marcus set off to the east to find a life. After a while of searching for a job or something as to live from, but he was unsuccessful. He heard of a cult or a religion of some sort called the Faith. He decided to go see what this about and after hearing a few words he was converted.

A few years passed and he became a Dog. Because of his past he was a man with little patience and he was also a little violent. He is polite enough to give a small speech for those who wish to convert right on, but if too much trouble arises, he gets violent and people are sure to convert after.

There was a change of status on Marcus' pack, and he was changed. He is now in this pack, a pack sent to the west of the land to spread his faith and convert the natives.

Accepted. We will be beginning soon. Now, here is my character:

Name: Cain Smith
Age: 47
Gender: Male
Appearance: One look at Cain will tell you that the man is obviously black. The man wears the regular uniform of a Dog, but it cannot fully hide his black skin. Cain also has long dark hair and a short beard. Along with the tattered clothes he wears, Cain wears a Tree of Life necklace, a keepsake from his dead wife.
Personality: Cain is a gruff ‘old’ man. Thanks to his many years in the Dogs, Cain has become a bit of a pessimist. He only sees the worst in people at first, and always expects the worst. He is also distrustful of his fellow Dogs, unless he knows them personally. For Cain, most of the time, there is no ‘bright side’. He can be a stubborn old fool at times, as most Dogs are these days. Cain has no qualms about killing if it needs to be done, though he doesn’t relish it. Cain has a soft spot for children, and tries his best not to harm or frighten them when he’s on missions.
History: Cain was born to African slaves in the east in a plantation farm. He never knew his father, as he had been sold to another slaver before he was born, and had only grown up with his mother. For most of his young life Cain lived as a slave, and while not content, never acted out in fear of retribution against his mother.

The day he turned fourteen, everything changed. The slave owner killed his mother for reasons Cain still does not know. The following night Cain, as well as several other slaves, made a daring escape attempt. They succeeded, and Cain fled west to escape being captured and brought back to his master. After arriving at a small western town, Cain happened to come upon a preacher of the Faith preaching to the public. Curious, Cain listened to the man. By the time the preacher finished his sermon, Cain had converted to the Faith. Cain approached the man and thanked him. The preacher, after finding out Cain had no money to his name and no place to stay, took pity on the lad and took him in. Several years passed, and he turned nineteen. During this time Cain had become the junior pastor to the town, learning under the preacher. While many in the community did not like the idea of a black man serving with the local pastor, they accepted it.

After a mysterious string of murders happened in the town, it was no surprise when a team of Dogs showed up. Eventually the murderer was brought to justice with the help of the Dogs. During the investigation Cain proved to be a great source of help. The leader of the Pack, a Dog named Sarah Smith, noticed Cain’s help and was impressed by the young man. She offered to take him under her wing and train him to be a Dog. Cain graciously accepted, and said farewell to his friends at the town he considered his true home.

For the next five years Cain trained to become a full-fledged Dog. After learning all he could from his mentor Sarah, Cain went to an official academy in the capital of the Faith to become a full-fledged Dog. While the training process is more lax nowadays, in Cain’s time it was a more rigorous and difficult process. After the five years had passed, Cain was assigned to his first Pack and later had his first mission. After another five years, Cain was given his first command. Overall, Cain proved to be a great Dog. He had a good conversion rate, and most of the missions he led ended successfully. While he had been somewhat disillusioned by the state of the real world, Cain did not let that deter his belief in the Faith.

When Cain was 30, a new member was assigned to his Pack. A young woman named Maria. Maria was an immigrant from Eastern Europe, and had recently been commissioned as a Dog. For Cain, it was love at first sight. There were no rules against Dogs pursuing relationships with each other back then, so long as they remained focused on their work. So Cain dated Maria, and a year later they were married. After another two years of active duty, Cain decided to go into early retirement with Maria. They both wanted to have a family, which they could not do in the Dogs. Following three years into their retirement, Maria and Cain were blessed with a beautiful daughter named Mary.

Their happiness, sadly, was not to last. After shortly turning 39, a high status minister in the Faith was assassinated. Cain and Maria were called out of retirement for what they hoped would be their only and last time. The two were paired up with two other Dogs, and they set out to investigate the murder. The investigation did not take long, and they found out who the killer was: a rogue Dog agent named Mark, one of the two agents assigned to their Pack. Once this fact was known, all hell broke loose. The Dogs ended up in a shooting match, where Maria was mortally wounded. By the time Cain got Maria to a doctor it was too late: she was already dead.

Cain was consumed with rage, and spent the next year and a half attempting to hunt down the man who murdered his wife. His hunt only ended when Harry, Cain’s brother-in-law, sent him a letter telling him how much his daughter needed him at this time. While Cain still wanted to seek vengeance, he still returned to his daughter.

Cain spent the next eight years of his life being the best father he could to his young child Mary. Two months after Mary turned eleven, Cain, for reasons of his own, came out of his retirement voluntarily and became a Dog once again. Cain put Mary under the care of the old pastor who had converted him to the Faith, and was given command of his own Pack once more. Now, as they go to their current assignment, it will be Cain’s first mission in years.
While he is as good of an agent as he used to be, Cain’s belief in the Faith has come under crisis. Right now, Cain has his doubts that the Faith is truly right…

Weapons/Equipment: A semi-old shotgun, two pistols (gifts from his trainer), a Tree of Life necklace, a Book of Life, and a jar of consecrated dirt.

((We begin now!))

Dogs in Gods Vineyard,

Episode One: The Red Road

The scorching sun hung high above in the sky, blasting its unrelenting rays upon everyone in its sight. The four Dogs riding forward were wearing cloaks to prevent sunburn, but they could feel the heat nonetheless. As far as they all could tell, it promised to be another regular afternoon in the West.

However, this would be the Packs first mission together. All of them had just been assigned under Cain Smith's command, and the five of them had never worked together and, likely, never met each other before. This would be a trial of sorts for them, for they would see how the other acted and worked first hand.

As they continued on, a town came into sight in the distance. There, they would begin their first mission. The small settlement was called Red Road, named after a nearby trail. The reason they were heading there was because a woman named Elisabeth, one of the two local Dog agents stationed there, was missing. After two whole days of searching the area, the towns poeple had yet to find her. Thus, the Dogs had been sent to helpi in the search. They would also help track down her murderer, if indeed they found Elisabeth dead.

Her partner Dog William had no idea where she was, though he and the town's pastor have an idea. Red Road is near a tribe of Mountain Folk, who have often been at odds with the townsfolk. It was possible that the Mountain Folk had kidnapped Elisabeth, though their was no evidence of that just yet. That was what the Dogs would be finding out. And, as an additional quest, the Dogs would investigate the recent ambushes against those traveling along the Red Road Trail, also possibly caused by the Mountain Folk.

Soon the Dogs arrived in the town, where a fair amount of people were already waiting for them. Reactions amongst the town were mixed, many happy at the sight of the Dogs, while others seemed angry, perhaps fearful. It was to be expected, of course. Many in the West were not Faithful, even though most of the religion's followers lived there. A lot of people did not like the Dogs at all, and even some among the Faithful did not have a good view of the Dogs.

Out of the crowd, A middle-aged man stepped away and approached the dogs.

"Greetings, my friends. I am Steward Hyrum. I assume you all are the Dogs sent here by the High Council?"

Well nobody enjoys talking in this group that’s for sure Marcus came to this conclusion as they arrived into town.

Marcus got off of his white male pure-breed horse, as soon as they arrived. A certain man greeted them in a tone that could be described as somewhat cheerful, however, the look on the face of the rest of the people around wasn’t the same as this man’s. After taking a quick glance at the host, Marcus tied his horse onto a near by pole.

Under the immense heat of the sun, Marcus turned and watched the landscape that surrounded the town and sadly, there was nothing unusual. Upon a much careful look, Marcus thought to have seen something up ahead, but it was unclear and it was just a glance.

Marcus turned around and asked Steward “Hey Steward, mind telling me in which direction is the Mountains Folk’s tribe?”

Marcus was kind of rude that’s for sure, yet he did not care for he was there for a single purpose, find out what happened to a fellow Dog.

Blowing a puff of smoke, Dwight climbed down from his horse. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, the Dog pondered why it was so unearthly hot, but dismissed the thought shortly after having it. His eyes scanned the crowd quietly, and he supressed a chuckle when he found the worried faces of the people. Oh no, the big bad dogs have rolled into town. Bumbling idiots... The voice of one of his companions snapped him out of his thoughts, and he glanced at the one responsible.

Sighing heavily at Marcus, he clasped a calloused hand on the Dogs shoulder. "Before we start breaking down doors, and shooting folks, don't you think it'd be best to meet up with the top dog and get all the facts?" He spared a glance at the other two riders. "Or am I the only one who dosen't want to get in shit with him, cause if that's so, I can go find him while you guys go shoot up some natives...I'm sure he'd be peachy with that."

He paused, his gaze lingering on the darker skin of Lara. "Save you, darling, since we wouldn't want to put you in a compromising situation." With a tip of his hat to her, he looked back at Steward. "You wouldn't happen to know where Cain Smith is, would you?"

“Have I accused somebody yet? If you do not know what I’m doing, please remain shut. I simply wondered for a little piece of information about the natives. Never said anything about them.” Marcus snapped but he still maintained his calm.

A bit hasty this one is, things should be quite interesting from this point on.

Marcus once again faced the host who greeted them waiting for an answer.

Dwight rolled his eyes, releasing the man's shoulder. "Alright, waste your breath big man. I'm sure Cain is gonna fill us all in on these details when we meet him." Blowing another puff of smoke, he flashed Marcus a smile. "Go on. Start flapping your gums. See if I give a damm." Sparing a glance to Steward, he shrugged. "Whenever you want to be productive, gimme a hollar and we can set about finding the top dog."

With a low whistle, he called his horse and tied it to a post not far from the one Marcus had used. Leaning againest it, he watched his companion quietly, his amusement obvious across his face. "Why do you even need to know where the villiage is, anyway? Got a hunch on who dunnit?" He made no effort to disguise the sarcasm in his voice, as he tipped the top of his hat up.

"Gee, someone disappears and it has to be the big-bad natives. Booo...." Patrick commented idly before searching the townspeople's reactions. It was the usual mix of hope, fear, and anger. He wasn't surprised.

He turned to Marcus and shrugged, "I understand about wanting to question the Natives. We'll probably have to do that eventually. I think Dwight is right, though. We should talk with the Faithful in town, check in and all that. Then I'd suggest asking around town first as long as we're here. No need to go riding out in the middle of nowhere, searching for natives, when the information we need might be here."

He tipped his hat to the Steward politely, "Howdy, Steward. Thanks for the welcome. And yes, the old men sent us."

Marcus ignored the both of his fellows Dogs as he walked towards what seemed to be the nearest bar.

“Mumbling idiots, as if I have accused somebody.” He said in a whisper while entering the bar. The Dog sat in of the empty seats and asked for a glass of water. Some men near Marcus laughed at him for what he had ordered and Marcus just grinned.

“Alcohol messes up one’s body and mind, then they become what most of the normal people call idiots. You three as a matter of fact are good examples of this certain fact. Plus, God likes his temples to be pure.” Gallantly, the Dog grinned at them, drank his water and dropped some cash to pay for his drink. Before walking out the bar, he dropped a small Book of Life in their table.

Lara watched the brief exchange between the other Dogs of her pack, her ever present frown deepening. The black haired one would have to be watched. He was hasty; quick to jump to conclusions. He reminded her of him. She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the bitter taste certain memories brought on.

“If anyone is to speak to the natives, I should be the one. You Ojiba are more likely to offend them than to get the information you want.” Her comment was spoken loudly enough for the two remaining Dogs to hear; firm and tinged with the barest hint of anger or perhaps distaste. Shockingly enough, these were the first words she had spoken in the presence of her pack-mates.

With a final glance around the surrounding people and buildings, she dismounted in a fluid movement before clicking her tongue and starting towards the post the other horses had been tied to. In response to her call, her horse followed her, coming to stand quietly next to the other horses. The woman did not tie it to the post, for she rode without reins; trusting in her horse’s training and her own abilities over the control brought by a bridle and reins.

Let the others deal with the townspeople. If they’ve been at odds with the natives, I’ll do nothing but serve to further anger them. She snorted softly to herself. Ojiba…they always look to us when problems come. They should spend more time turning their eyes inward, rather than out to focus on us.

Casting a quick glance skyward at the sun, she ran a caring hand along her mount’s neck. Hopefully Cain would show soon. Though she wasn’t as bothered by the heat as her companions, she didn’t exactly relish standing around in it all day waiting on their leader.

((Hey Nando, mind referring to the Faith's holy books as 'the Book of Life', instead of a Bible? Please and thank you.))

Steward

"Ah, Dog Cain arrived the other night. He should be somewhere with Dog William, I believe. They should be coming here...ah, speak of the devil, their they are!"

Two older men wearing tha tattered cloaks of Dogs came out of an inn, heading toward the group. One of the duo dropped his hood, revealing his black skin. He closely examined the other Dogs, mentally judging them. He paced around the group for a moment, not speaking. Then the African burst into laughter.

"Well, if you all are Dogs, then the Faith must be in a sorry shape. I can't believe the Academy let you all pass. Ya'll look like spineless cowards. Well, I'm sure I can wip you all into shape sooner or later. I am Cain Smith, your new Pack Leader. Yes, I am black. Yes, it's quite shocking! Not many black people out here in the West, no doubt I'm part of a very small minority. No, I am not a slave. I'm a freed man, believe it or not. Yes, I will take it as a personal insult should you use racial slurs. My advice; don't. Otherwise you'll find yourself lacking a finger. Yes, I am a very gruff old man. Deal with it. I'm also a veteran Dog, believe it or not. You may find it hard to believe, but some Dogs actually live long enough to see middle-age. Now, I was once retired. I'm back in service at this time, though. Don't ask me why, because I won't tell you. So long as you don't make me mad, we'll get along just fine. Are we clear?"

Cain finished his long introduction speech and waited for a response. Wait...one two three four....

"Are we missing someone, or have the Packs been made shorter?"

"I believe that one of our number just assumed that the Natives were responsible. There was some arguing and he left to get drunk," Patrick said cheerfully in his urban Irish accent. It had never quite went away. He nodded as he noted the man's race and shrugged, "Your blackness doesn't bother me, old man."

He looked over at the Native girl beside him and grinned mischievously. He rode towards her and said, "No need to try to leave us too soon. We are pack-mates. Shouldn't we try to get to know each other as brothers and sister in faith."

He winked at her for good measure even as his horse snorted, as if annoyed by his human's behavior.

Lara blinked, unfazed by the gruff manner of their leader. He sounded like he knew what he was doing, like he could keep the pack in check. She nodded in response to his question, not bothering with words. Why bother wasting breath when a simple gesture would serve just fine.

She started to turn back to her horse when the red-haired Dog approached. She arched an eyebrow, wondering silently what he was intending, since he didn‘t appear to be coming over to tie his horse. As soon as he spoke however, the eyebrow dropped and her frown settled deeper into her features, creasing her brow.

“If I was leaving, Ojiba, I would be on Enapay.” Her eyes flashed, and her voice held a sharp edge. She didn’t say anything else, instead turning to lift her pack from her horse’s back.

Dwight found himself grinning over the interactions between his pack-mates, before looking to Cain. "Speak for yourself, old man. I ain't a coward, and I sure as hell can hold my own." Flicking the remains of his cigerette to the ground, the Dog nodded in the direction Marcus had gone. "Went that way. Probably be back pretty quick. He's eager to get rolling, Cain."

Giving a nod to Cain's companion, he stifled a yawn. "So, we've got an Irishmen, a Native, a farmer's son, formerly retired black man, and myself." He laughed for a moment. "Damm, Cain. You must've pissed someone off cause you've got the most mix-mashed pack I've ever bloody heard of." Rubbing his chin, he grinned. "Of course, that just makes us all the more lethal, huh? People just love to assume."