The year is 1866. You are Daniel Stockton, a veteran of the American Civil War and general in the Aizu Domain's military. You've come to Japan looking for work, and with the nation on the brink of war, there is an ever-increasing demand for men such as yourself. Last time, you secured additional funding for the Shogunal armed forces, as well as got a hotel room.Twitterhttps://twitter.com/ZapQMArchive:http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=BoshinInfo Paste:https://pastebin.com/L50nUu0V
Yawning, you sip on your coffee and look out over the city of San Francisco. From your penthouse room, you can see the entire bay in stunning clarity. It is a rather captivating sight; the vessels milling about in the harbor, with larger sailing ships coming and going from the mouth of the bay. Using your field glasses, you peer at the various flags atop the masts of the ships. A rather small number of said vessels fly the stars and stripes, with many having flags you’ve never seen before. It is just after nine in the morning, and you have been awake for maybe an hour. Nakajima sits across from you at a small table, also looking out at the city. She drinks tea, having elected to bring along some matcha for the voyage. “This view is quite splendid,” she notes between sips. You nod. “It is quite impressive. I can see why so many wealthy men have built houses up in this area” A cool breeze blows in from the sea, rustling the curtains and chilling you a bit. Being November, it makes sense that the mornings would be chilly in San Francisco. As you finish your coffee, you stand up and grab your coat from a nearby rack. The same tailor that you visited in Edo was able to make you a set of long coats; particularly a light frock and wool-lined topcoat, both with the appropriate shoulder-boards and black wool so that they will not look out of place when thrown over your uniform. Grabbing the frock, you look over at Nakajima. “Well, the Great Eastern sets sail tonight at sundown. That’s about eight hours away.” Nakajima nods. “Shall we explore the city some more?” “That’s certainly an option.” You rub your chin. “Though, we may want to get back early in case there are things we need to get sorted before departure.” The two of you pack everything up and head downstairs, handing your key to the hotel clerk. He tells you that your other compatriot, Major Sato, has already returned to the Great Eastern in preparation for setting sail. As the two of you step out into the morning sunlight, you look toward downtown. There are the more upscale areas, with some of the finest shopping, dining, and entertainment available west of the Mississippi, and then there are the areas closer to the docks that contain the less prosperous locales; pubs, informal markets, vendors of overseas goods straight off of ships, and all other manner of less refined things lay there. You estimate that you’ll only really have time to explore one area and still make it back to the ship on time. >Head to the lower-class area. One can find all sorts of interesting things off the beaten path. >You’d like to experience the luxuries of high society a bit longer before getting back on the ship.>Actually, you should probably head back to the ship early in case you’re needed for anything. >Write-in.
>>4138722>Head to the lower-class area. One can find all sorts of interesting things off the beaten path.Well, she had a taste of high class with the penthouse and dinner last night, lets show her the real side of america, she is a soldier she'll probably appreciate it....and its an adventure too
>Head to the lower-class area. One can find all sorts of interesting things off the beaten path
>>4138722>Head to the lower-class area. One can find all sorts of interesting things off the beaten path.
>>4138722>Head to the lower-class area. One can find all sorts of interesting things off the beaten path.We have a side arm with us right? I'd feel naked otherwise
We plan to buy a new Winchester?
You both head past the high-class shops and row houses, instead opting to explore the neighborhood closer to the waterfront. Such a trip would be risky if unarmed, but you’ve both got .32 caliber Smith and Wesson revolvers in your pockets, so you should be alright. As you both enter the waterfront district, you note a distinct difference in the appearance of the buildings. Painting has been neglected on wooden structures, and brick ones show signs of age and abuse. Windows are thick and wavy, having been made from cheap glass. The people who mill about wear functional, no-frills clothing; you see many a frayed sleeve as you pass the crowds. Walking about, you note a rather large saloon that appears to be surprisingly close to capacity, given the time of day. There is also a tough-looking brick building with a “GUNS & AMMUNITION” sign out front, pockmarked by several bullet holes. Up the street a ways is an open-air market with quite a few (you assume) Chinese immigrants occupying the stalls. There are some additional buildings as well: a general store, a doctors’ office, a photography studio, and a tailor. Walking down the street, you frown momentarily as you step wide to avoid a large pile of horse manure. “Well, this is more of a genuine American experience.” Looking over at Nakajima, you raise an eyebrow. “What do you think?” She looks around, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “It is much more… Normal.” Shrugging, she continues. “The neighborhood where the hotel was almost felt artificial. Everything was too elegant, too clean.” She then gestures to the buildings around you. “It feels like people actually live and work here.” Your attention is directed to the saloon, where a man is kicked through the swinging doors, tumbling off of the porch and into the street, landing in a puddle of something you don’t want to think about. “They do more than just work and live here.” >Visit the saloon. >Check out the open air market.>You’re interested to see what that gun store has. >The photography studio sounds quite nice. You’ve never gotten professional portraits done.>Write-in.
>You’re interested to see what that gun store has.im interested in seeing what guns an american gun store has to offer
>>4138802>The photography studio sounds quite nice. You’ve never gotten professional portraits doneThis sounds cool as hell.After it we can pick up a new rifle and then visit the saloon
Walking up the street, you duck into the photography studio. Seeing as you’ve never had a portrait taken before, you figure you might as well get one. “Ah, good afternoon!” A stocky man with a mustache greets you as you enter. “Looking to get portraits done?” “Yes sir,” you nod. Looking over at Nakajima, you continue. “What about you, Major? Want to get some portraits?” She nods. “I will as well.” “Major?” The man raises an eyebrow. “Ah, you two are soldiers.” He gestures to your coat, which is the only piece of your uniform you are currently wearing. “Though, something tells me you’re not part of the American army, right?” He gestures toward Nakajima as he says the last part. “We’re both under the employ of the Japanese Shogun.” You reply with a small smile. “They hired me because I already had experience as a soldier.” “Ah…” The man nods solemnly. “I was a war photographer myself. Mostly took portraits of soldiers in uniform before they shipped out. Something for families to remember them by, you know?” He stops himself. “Anyhow, give me a moment to set up the studio.” Perhaps five minutes later, the camera is set up, with you standing against a white background. The photographer has you stand still for about two or three minutes, then repeats the process for Nakajima, and again for a picture with the both of you. “Now then, Gentlemen.” The photographer, whose name is Ambrose, you learn, guides the two of you to the front of the studio. “It will take about two hours for me to develop these portraits, feel free to swing by around that time and I’ll be glad to hand them over to you.” “Of course,” you reply. “Thank you again.” Stepping out into the street once more, you look around. >Visit the saloon. >Check out the open air market.>You’re interested to see what that gun store has. >Write-in.
>>4139032>You’re interested to see what that gun store has.
>>4139032>Visit the saloon.Some drinks
>>4139032>You’re interested to see what that gun store has. Man the war still hitting hard and fast eh?
Deciding to make a stop that you figure might actually be useful to your occupation, you go over to the gun store nearby. Entering the store, you see many long guns lining the back wall, with a surprisingly young man standing at the counter. “Ah, hello.” He nods to you. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You cross your arms. “I’m just looking at the moment.” Your eyes glide across the racks of weapons, seeing many rifle-muskets and Spencers in varying condition. You imagine the Army has been selling off a lot of surplus stock in the aftermath of the War, just like how they sold guns to the Shogun en masse. You note a few Henry rifles among the Spencers, though none of them look as nice as your old iron-frame model. There is a revolver rifle near the end of the rack, likely a Colt model. Next to it is a smaller Remington revolver carbine, which looks to be quite a handy little arm. At the very end of the rack are four or five lever guns you’ve never seen before. They have brass receivers similar to the Henry, though with a wooden fore grip and what appears to be a loading gate on the side. The rifles have varying barrel lengths and other features, but all appear to be made by the same manufacturer. “What are those?” You point to the rifles in question. The clerk’s eyes light up. “Those are the new Winchester rifles. We only just got them last month actually.” He picks one up off of the rack, a carbine-length model, and runs the lever before handing it to you. “They’re basically updated Henry rifles, with a more powerful cartridge.” You nod slowly. “They’ve done away with the old magazine as well…” You run your hand over the receiver where the loading gate is, noting how finely-made the weapon seems to be. “This is exquisite.” The clerk nods. “That’s the only problem though… They’re pricey.” He grimaces slightly. “One of these costs about twice what a Henry does. I’ve actually had a hard time selling them.” >”Well I’ll buy one, then. It’s worth the extra money to have a state-of-the-art rifle.” (buy a Winchester 1866 for yourself)>”Say, I suppose the other Majors would like one as well. What do you think, Nakajima?” (buy all five Winchesters)>”That is a bit pricey… What can you tell me about the other repeaters you have in stock?” (look at the other merchandise) >Write-in.
>>4140245Zap how many of these would it take too get our Gunsmith nerd to reserve design these?
>>4140252Probably one or two. Enzo already has some experience with lever guns due to working on your old Henry before it got broken.
>>4140245>”Say, I suppose the other Majors would like one as well. What do you think, Nakajima?” (buy all five Winchesters)Our closest comrades deserve to be splurged on (and it also bolsters their loyalty)
>>4140245>>”Say, I suppose the other Majors would like one as well. What do you think, Nakajima?” (buy all five Winchesters)
>>4140245>”Say, I suppose the other Majors would like one as well. What do you think, Nakajima?” (buy all five Winchesters)>>4140282Dope he can work on ours then.
>>4140245>>”Say, I suppose the other Majors would like one as well. What do you think, Nakajima?” (buy all five Winchesters)the guy just dig his own grave saying its hard to sell themlet's haggle the shit out of him based on that statement and bulk buy the 5 for a better price
>>4140245>”Say, I suppose the other Majors would like one as well. What do you think, Nakajima?” (buy all five Winchesters)
You cross your arms, looking over at Nakajima. “Say, the Majors could all use new rifles, don’t you think?” She looks at the Winchesters, then to you. She leans in and whispers in your ear. “They certainly do seem like fine rifles, but do you really think you need to be making such a large purchase at a time like this?” You shrug. “Well there’s no telling when we’ll come across more of these. Besides, we could have Enzo take a look at one; see about reverse-engineering it.” She nods slightly. “Very well, sir.” You turn to the salesman again, clearing your throat. “I’ll take all five of those Winchesters.” “A-all five?” He raises an eyebrow. Nodding curtly, you speak without delay. “Though, seeing as you’ve had difficulty selling them, and I’ll be getting all of them off of your hands, I should be able to get a bit of a bargain, right?” The sales clerk goes pale as he realizes you intend to haggle him down as far as you can. Growing up on a farm meant seeing your father haggle for just about everything, so you’ve got a veritable arsenal of things to say that will get you lower prices. Fifteen minutes later, you sign off on the last piece of paperwork and money changes hands. The sales clerk arranges for two of his employees to put the rifles in a crate and take it to the Great Eastern for you. As you walk out, you hand fifty cents to the men who will be transporting the box, as a bit of a bonus for their troubles. “Have a nice day, now.” You tip your hat, leaving the store and stepping foot out onto the street again. Walking up the street, you look over at Nakajima. “Where do you think we should go next?” She frowns, producing a pocket watch. “Well, I imagine we have maybe another hour before the portraits are done, then we should head back to the ship.” Shrugging, she defers to you. “I haven’t the slightest idea how to spend an hour around here.” “Well then,” you say. “We’ll head to-“ “You!” A shrill voice captures your attention. Turning to the side, you see an old woman dressed in rags. She points at you. “Young man, let me tell your fortune!” “No thanks,” you reply.
“Only fifteen dollars, Mister.” She takes a few steps toward you. “Fifteen dollars?! That’s outrageous!” You balk at the idea. “Why would I ever pay that for a fortune-telling?” “Because I’m never wrong,” she replies in a low voice. Her hand wraps around your wrist quick as lightning. You shiver; her hand is cold as ice, and her grip as strong as iron. Her expression grows distant, then she lets go. “You walked out of Hell, but it still follows you… Iron and rot, honor and shame, the matted blackness of your mind won’t let you have peace.” You feel your stomach sink as she speaks; surely she must be making an educated guess.Rubbing your wrist, you take a step back. “S-sir,” Nakajima steps forward. “Let’s go.” >”Indeed, let’s.” (leave)>”I’ve already spent quite a sum of money today, another fifteen dollars won’t break the bank…” (have your fortune told)>Write-in.
We'll have a regular session tomorrow at 6PM Eastern. My apologies for the lack of sessions, but since I work in a "critical industry," I've had a lot of mandatory overtime lately.
>>4150917>>”I’ve already spent quite a sum of money today, another fifteen dollars won’t break the bank…” (have your fortune told)
>>4150917>”Indeed, let’s.” (leave)
>>4150917>”I’ve already spent quite a sum of money today, another fifteen dollars won’t break the bank…” (have your fortune told)>>4150923hey its alot of money we making though
>>415097115 dollars actually is a fair sum of cash, almost $250 in today's money
>>4150996Thats alot of money.
>>4150917>”Indeed, let’s.” (leave)Yeah, she read us as a war veteran. It's not that hard to do.
>>4150917>Write-in.>Make it 5$
>>4150917>>”Indeed, let’s.” (leave)
Session in one hour.
You frown. “Indeed, lets.” With that, you both turn and walk in the opposite direction of the fortune teller. As you both approach the photography studio, you can’t help but feel haunted by her words; sure, she could’ve just read you as a war veteran, but to be as precise as she was? Shaking your head, you look up the street at the various shops. “Anywhere you’d like to check out, Nakajima?” She shrugs, gesturing to the general store. “Perhaps we should pick up some luxury items that might not be available aboard the ship?” You nod. “That’s a sensible idea, let’s go.” Heading over to the general store, you buy some fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as a few cans and jars of preserved fruit. Though you’re likely to have access to nice meals aboard the Great Eastern, those will not last terribly long at sea, and you’d like to have some luxuries available after that. After stocking up, you have a store clerk deliver the goods to the ship, then head over to the portrait studio. Ambrose hands the portraits, three in total, to you before bidding you a good day. They do look rather lifelike, you think. Perhaps it would be worth investing in a photographer as a retained specialist? Heading back to the docks, you arrive at the Ship with perhaps two hours to spare before departure. Captain Thompson stands a ways back from the ship, talking with some of the harbor’s officials. “Ah, General Stockton.” Thompson greets you with a curt nod. “We were wondering when you would return. You’ve been sending things to my ship all day now.” You shrug. “I had a few errands I wanted to take care of while we were still docked.” Looking toward the ship, you continue. “I assume everything is running smoothly?” The Captain crosses his arms. “Indeed, we are ready to sail whenever we like. Coal stores and provisions have been fully replenished, and the crew seem much fresher than when we arrived. Though that storm in the Pacific put us a bit behind schedule, I think if we limit our time at subsequent ports, we can get back on schedule soon.”Raising an eyebrow, you turn to the captain. “Where are we headed next, then?” “Our next stop will be in Argentina, after crossing the Cape, but that’s mostly just in case we need to replenish any stores or do repairs, so we’ll only be there for maybe a day. Hopefully we won’t even need to go ashore when we replenish our stores there.” He looks toward the Great Eastern. “After that, we’ll be sailing up to New York to drop off the United States Mission before crossing the Atlantic.” >”Then I suppose we should get underway.” (timeskip to arrival in Europe)>”New York, eh? I don’t suppose you could let me go ashore for a spell while we’re there?” (spend some time in New York)>Write-in.
>>4151913>New York, eh? I don’t suppose you could let me go ashore for a spell while we’re there?” (spend some time in New York)Closest Stockton will get to home
>>4151913She wasn't precise at all. Fight the mind control, Stockton!>”New York, eh? I don’t suppose you could let me go ashore for a spell while we’re there?” (spend some time in New York)
>>4151913>”Then I suppose we should get underway.” (timeskip to arrival in Europe)
>”New York, eh? I don’t suppose you could let me go ashore for a spell while we’re there?” (spend some time in New York)it would be nice to visit our home
do we have any family there to visit?
>>4151986Realistically you wouldn't be in New York long enough to travel upstate. Stockton's family lives in Rochester.
“Do you suppose I could spend some time ashore while we dock in New York?” Captain Thompson nods, gesturing for you to follow him as he makes his way to the ship. “To keep us on schedule, I cannot allow more than twenty-four hours of shore leave…” He trails off. “You may go ashore when we arrive there, assuming nothing changes with our planned itinerary.” “Thank you, Captain.” You reply with an instinctive bow. “No need to thank me, General.” Captain Thompson begins ascending the gangplank, with you following behind. “Anyhow, since we now have all personnel accounted for, We’ll be setting sail shortly.” As it would turn out, ‘shortly’ meant within the hour, as you would feel the ship moving beneath you almost as soon as you’d finished unpacking your new goods in your cabin. Making your way up to the deck, you take a few minutes at the stern railing to watch San Francisco fade into the distance. Within another hour, the coast is far from sight. The next five days are spent sailing down the length of North America, with much of it spent lounging on the deck and enjoying the calm weather. Once the ship clears the Southern border of America and enters the waters off Mexico, the temperatures warm up considerably. The next week or so finds you passing Panama and skirting the coast of South America, with the Great Eastern spending much time sailing within visible range of Chile’s Atacama Desert. Dolphins play in front of the ship’s bow, without a care in the world. The weather deteriorates rapidly as you approach the Straits of Magellan. By the time you enter said straits, things are at least as bad as the storm you encountered in the mid-Pacific. The Great Eastern makes it through with minimal damage, however, and soon is anchored in the port of Buenos Aries for resupply. Within the same day, the ship sets sail again and heads north toward the United States. As you sail through the Doldrums, things again are wonderfully calm. After about another week, you find yourself standing on the bow of the Great Eastern, looking at New York City. As the ship docks, you remember your time limit, 24 hours. Being that it is only 11 in the morning now; that means you have nearly all the day to use as you see fit. >Take your officers and find some world-class entertainment. (use this opportunity for R&R)>Find some members of the American mission. You want to see who exactly they’ve chosen for the task.>You’ve got a cousin that lives in the City. Perhaps you should find him. >Write-in.
>>4152226>>You’ve got a cousin that lives in the City. Perhaps you should find him.we can do the R&R at night
>>4152226>>You’ve got a cousin that lives in the City. Perhaps you should find him.
>>4152226>You’ve got a cousin that lives in the City. Perhaps you should find him.
Disembarking, you remember that you have a cousin in the city. Edward Stockton is related to you by your father’s brother. Perhaps he would be able to contact your family for you. Walking up the streets, you aren’t exactly sure who you would ask about finding a person. After a while, you happen upon a policeman standing on a corner. He has a club on him, twirling it by the lanyard. “Excuse me, officer.” You get the man’s attention. “Yeah?” He speaks with an Irish accent, surprising you a bit; you weren’t aware they had started letting Irishmen be police officers. “I’m looking for an Edward Stockton,” you say politely. “Do you have any idea where I might find him?” “Hmm, Ed Stockton, you say?” He frowns, rubbing his chin. “I suppose it’s too unlikely to be a coincidence…” He shrugs. “Why are you asking?” “He’s family.” You cross your arms. “We’re first-cousins.” The policeman leans forward, examining you. “Oh I suppose there is a resemblance,” he remarks. “Yeah, you’ve got the same eyes and nose.” He chuckles. “Well last I knew, he was living over on 1140 Orchard Street.” He points north. “Head up Chatham a spell and then onto Division for a while, you’ll find it.” “Thank you,” you reply with a tip of your hat. Following the directions given to you, soon you find yourself in a rather unpleasant neighborhood. Eventually, you find the building in question and search for the apartment list. He lives on the second floor, you determine from the list, and so you head up to find him. Knocking on the door, you wait for about thirty seconds before a man answers. “Can I help you?” The man is thin and wiry, with long hair and a mustache. Though he is older, he does indeed look somewhat like you, perhaps more so if you let your hair grow out. He’s a bit thinner than you, almost unhealthily so, and his eyes quickly scan you. “My name is Daniel Stockton. I was told this is the residence of Edward Stockton?” The man nods once. “We’re cousins. Your father’s name is Thomas, right?” Ed exhales slightly, chuckling. “Then we are cousins.” Opening his door wider, he gestures inside. “Please, come in.” As you do, you notice a Colt pocket revolver in his hand, which he discards onto a table. “Pardon the gun,” he says tiredly. “You’d be surprised how many people come to my door trying to start trouble.” Shrugging, he sighs. “I suppose it’s part of the job, though. How can I help you, cousin?” >”Part of the job? What do you do for work?” >”I was curious if you were still in contact with the family upstate. I’ve been out of the country for a while.” >”I’m here on shore-leave for the next 24 hours. Could you give me some guidance on how to spend a day here?” >”A Colt Pocket-Navy, eh? Pretty nice pistol. I was always more partial to the Smith and Wesson for pocket carry, though.” >Write-in.
>>4152327>>”I was curious if you were still in contact with the family upstate. I’ve been out of the country for a while.”
>>4152327>”I was curious if you were still in contact with the family upstate. I’ve been out of the country for a while.”
>>4152327>”Part of the job? What do you do for work?” >”I was curious if you were still in contact with the family upstate. I’ve been out of the country for a while.”
>>4152327>”Part of the job? What do you do for work?” >”I was curious if you were still in contact with the family upstate. I’ve been out of the country for a while.” Ah god, his a fed
“Part of the job?” You raise an eyebrow. Solemnly, Ed nods. “Police detective.” Shrugging, he continues. “It’s a little better than being a beat cop, sometimes anyway. Lately it’s been worse though.” Shrugging, he leans against a wall. His apartment is small, dimly-lit, and has the same generally-oppressive feel as most apartments in New York City. “But that’s not important. Can I get you something to drink, cousin?” You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks.” Crossing your arms, you continue. “I was just curious if you happened to be in contact with the Family upstate.” “Some of them,” he nods. “Want me to pass along a message to your folks?” “Just let them know I’m still alive and well.” You shrug. “I’ve got a letter headed to Rochester, but it probably won’t make it there for at least a few more weeks since it’s going overland.” “Overland?” Ed raises an eyebrow. “Were you out west?” “I was in San Francisco for a while,” you reply. “And out of the country before that.” Ed ducks into what you assume is the kitchen, coming back with a half-empty bottle of rye whisky and a couple of glasses. “Please, sit.” He gestures to a table, and you decide to humor him. “Do you mind me asking where you’ve been?” He uncorks the bottle, pouring a glass for you, then himself. “Japan,” you say. He gives a blank stare, so you decide to give a bit more information. “It’s an island nation near China. Across the Pacific.” “Ah, I see.” He nods. You take a sip of whiskey, and he does the same. “What took you all the way over there?” “Well, the Japanese government was looking for people to train their soldiers. They’re trying to modernize their military.” Shrugging, you elaborate. “So I’ve been doing that for the better part of a year.” “Ah, right.” Ed nods solemnly. “You were in the Army, I remember hearing that…” He takes another sip. >”So what’s it like being a police detective? Surely you must have some good stories.” (focus on Ed)>”Do you know how the family has been keeping over the last year or so?” (focus on the Family)>”I’m in New York for the day. Any advice on places I should see before I go?” (focus on leisure)>Write-in.
>”Do you know how the family has been keeping over the last year or so?” (focus on the Family)Zap LIVES!!!!
>>4167763>>”Do you know how the family has been keeping over the last year or so?” (focus on the Family)
>>4167763>”Do you know how the family has been keeping over the last year or so?” (focus on the Family)
“Do you know how the Family’s been over the last year?” You look at Ed as you take a sip of whisky. He smiles slightly. “Your folks have been doing alright, from what they tell me.” Pausing, he rubs the back of his neck. “I hear they hired some help to work the farm, so they must be doing well enough to afford hired help, at least.” You chuckle. “That’s good to know. What about your folks? How have they been?” Ed’s smile disappears. “Well, I don’t exactly know what my dad is up to these days. I suppose nobody mentioned it to you, but he was a member of the Democratic Party around here before the War.” He swirls the whisky in his glass. “Guess he moved to Richmond just after the War started, raised a volunteer regiment or something…” “Oh,” you grimace. “I’m sorry to hear it.” It’s a surprise to hear, considering your own father’s abolitionist beliefs. Though, now that you think about it your parents weren’t particularly invested in the whole slavery debate until after the War started. “It’s the reason I prefer to just be called ‘Ed.’ I don’t much like sharing a name with a traitor…” Ed trails off, taking another swig of whisky. Apparently your uncle is named Edward as well. “I’m sure he had his reasons, or at least believed he did,” you reply. It is an attempt to smooth things over more than anything. “Say,” Ed begins. “If it’s not too impolite, could I ask what you did in the War?” You don’t meet his eyes as you speak. “I was a rifle sergeant.” A grin tugs at the side of his mouth. “Front-line stuff, huh? Really giving Johnny-Reb a whiff of the ol’ musket shot.” >”Johnny Reb shoots back, you know.” (grounded/bitter)>”Damn right we did.” (proud)>”Well, at least for the first few years.” (mention Andersonville)>”Something tells me you didn’t fight in the War.” (accusatory)>"Being a police detective sounds interesting." (change the subject)>Write-in.
>>4168174>>”Well, at least for the first few years.” (mention Andersonville)
>>4168174>"Being a police detective sounds interesting." (change the subject)
>>4168174>”Well, at least for the first few years.” (mention Andersonville)
“Well at least for the first few years.” You take a drink of whisky as you reply. “Spent the last two just trying to stay alive.” Ed raises an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” Sighing, you decide now is the best time to bring it up. “Well, in ’64 I was captured after being wounded in battle. I got sent down to Georgia. Andersonville.” Ed’s expression changes to the same one you’ve seen a hundred times; every time you mention Andersonville, people start walking on pins and needles, as if any little thing might break your spirits. You hate it. “I see,” he says finally. “Must’ve been Hell.” He takes a sip of whisky. “Yep,” you reply. There is a long, awkward silence as Ed clearly tries to find the right words. He is interrupted just as he opens his mouth to speak, however. There is a loud knock at the door, followed by shouting. “Inspector Stockton, are you home?” “Mickey?” He raises an eyebrow, calling out to the person knocking. “It’s unlocked, come in.” A young man with an Irish accent bursts in, clearly out of breath. “Inspector, we need to get down to Barclay Street.” He grimaces, glancing at you before continuing. “They’ve found another body.” “Shit,” Ed grimaces, corking the whisky bottle and standing up. He grabs his pistol off of the table, putting it into his vest pocket. You stand up, and he looks over at you. “I was hoping today would be a good day.” Donning a bowler hat, he heads for the door. You follow him. “Duty calls, I guess.”
That's going to be it for this thread, seeing as we're on Page 10 now. My apologies for the inconsistent upload schedule the last couple days in particular. Ultimate Admiral: Dreadnoughts added ironclads on the 31st and I've been playing the heck out of it because of that. Tomorrow evening we'll have a session in a new thread. Thanks for playing!
>>4172358thanks for running!
>>4172358thanks for running zap, i can totally understand the iconsistent udates if you were enjoying the the ironclads, i heard they are really cool
>>4172358thanks Zapp even if ya a big fucking meme.
>>4172355>shinsengumi road trip?