[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQcvKM2l.jpg[/img][/center]

[b][i]Deadwood Mining Camp
Black Hills Region
Dakota Territory
April 5th, 1877[/i][/b]


The regular bustle up and down the street's thoroughfare had grown to an eerie silence, as dozens of townsfolk stopped what they were doing to stare.  The only sounds audible beyond the wind and the odd creaking of hanging sign were the squeaking of wagon wheels, and the irregular clopping of a horse's hooves.

The brown mare limped into town, snorting and heaving from exhaustion, its fur matted with dark blood stains.  Flies buzzed over a nasty wound in its right flank, no doubt the cause of the animal's limp.  Many more of those flies, however, swarmed across the body seated at the front of the wagon, head drooping to one side, mouth frozen in a permanent scream.

[color=RoyalBlue]"What in God's name...."[/color] Sheriff Seth Bullock muttered to himself as he stepped out into the street, the crowd of gawking bystanders unsure of what to do.  [color=RoyalBlue]"Everyone....*[i]ahem*[/i] everyone [i]stay back![/i]  Someone get the Doc!"[/color]

A boy in the crowd, maybe twelve years old, nodded and broke out into a run towards Doc Cochran's practice.  Bullock whistled to the wounded horse, trying to get it to come towards him as it listed aimlessly down the street.  With his left hand, Seth held out an open palm, trying his best to soothe the animal.  His right hand, however, was firmly on the grip of his pistol.

A year ago, Deadwood had its first brush with the strange and unnatural events that had been cropping up across the country.  What seemed at first to be an outbreak of smallpox in the camp turned out to be something far more dangerous altogether, as those who died from the illness simply didn't stay dead.  Since then, the folks of Deadwood and Seth Bullock in particular had done their best to prepare for the day that the otherworldly visited their camp again, while praying that it never did.

[color=RoyalBlue]"That's it, that's it...."[/color] Bullock said gently as the horse approached him, snuffling his outstretched hand.  [color=RoyalBlue]"Nothin' to fear, girl."[/color]

A thin man in a bowler hat emerged from the corner building, approaching the Sheriff and the wagon.

[color=Tan]"Everything all right, Seth?"[/color] Sol Star asked, his own hand subconsciously drifting towards the Derringer in his vest pocket.

[color=RoyalBlue]"No,"[/color] Bullock answered curtly.  [color=RoyalBlue]"We've got a dead man riding through our thoroughfare, so I'd say everything is [i]not[/i] all right.  Just need to know how bad it is.  Think you can keep the horse from getting spooked?"[/color]

Sol nodded, not entirely confident.

[color=RoyalBlue]"Good,"[/color] Seth said before Sol could change his mind.  [color=RoyalBlue]"I need to see what's in this wagon.  Maybe that'll tell us why this man died...."[/color]

[hr]

[b][i]TWO HOURS LATER[/i][/b]

[color=FireBrick]"There's an old bit of Celestial wisdom,"[/color] Al Swearengen began as he looked at the faces gathered in his office.  [color=FireBrick]"Rather, a curse.  'May you be born in interesting times.'  I'm sure our esteemed friend Mister Wu could expound upon why this particular phrase is considered a curse by his people-- or at least he would if I could ever convince the man to speak a fuckin' word of English-- but I personally never found any ominous tones in such a saying."[/color]

Seth Bullock and Sol Star glared at Swearengen from the far corner, arms folded across their chests.  They'd never liked the man, and had more than their fair share of conflicts with his operation, but over time, they'd worked out something of an understanding for the sake of the camp as a whole.

[color=FireBrick]"You see, if there's any constant in the world, it's that nothing's constant,"[/color] Al elaborated.  [color=FireBrick]"Everything changes sooner or later.  Just when you think you've got your house sorted out, the winds start blowing in another direction and you've got to start all over again.  Some people might look at that and see chaos.  They might see it as dangerous, even downright fuckin' deadly.  Me?  I see it as opportunity after opportunity."[/color]

Down the hall, a woman's voice cried out in high-pitched squeals of exaggerated ecstacy.  Al rolled his eyes.

[color=FireBrick]"Johnny, would you mind going to room four and reminding Lucy that our establishment is not a God damned opera house?  I'm in the middle of something and I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to hear myself think over her hamming it up for the customers."[/color]  Johnny Burns, one of Al's lackeys, nodded urgently and scrambled out the door, his lanky limbs practically fumbling over themselves as he nudged past the others.  [color=FireBrick]"Now then....where was I?"[/color]

[color=Violet]"Opportunity,"[/color] Joanie Stubbs, owner of the Bella Union saloon and Al's chief competitor, chimed in.  [color=Violet]"And what exactly this has to do with a dead man riding into our camp."[/color]

[color=Olive]"Y-y-yes,"[/color] E.B. Farnum, ostensibly Deadwood's mayor but very much another one of Al's lackeys, sputtered.  [color=Olive]"I-I was wondering wh-what exactly is going on here, Al.  Th-there's panic grown in the camp."[/color]

[color=FireBrick]"There's always panic in the fuckin' camp,"[/color] Al spat.  [color=FireBrick]"Ever since last year's unpleasantness, the goddamn hoople-heads have been jumping at their own shadows.  What you're about to hear [i]does not leave this room[/i] until we have a plan on how to deal with it.  If anyone lets slip, I'll cut every last one of you myself, then do your families and friends just to make sure."[/color]

[color=SandyBrown]"Big fuckin' talk, as always,"[/color] sneered Jane Canary, who had once worked as one of Al's dancers before coming under the wing of the legendary Wild Bill Hickok.  In the past year, "Calamity Jane" had become a legend in her own right hunting unnatural creatures throughout the Black Hills.  [color=SandyBrown]"I ain't scared o' you no more, Al.  I'll tell whoever the fuck I want--"[/color]

[color=Lime]"I d-don't think that's necessary, Miss Jane,"[/color] stammered A.W. Merrick, the owner of the camp's sole printing press and newspaper.  [color=Lime]"But Al, if there's a threat to the public at larger, maybe we should--"[/color]

[color=FireBrick][i]"Not.  A.  Fucking.  Word."[/i][/color] Al repeated.  [color=FireBrick]"Now, before this conversation gets completely out of hand, Sheriff Bullock, if you would be so kind as to show everyone here why I am so insistent on the lot of you exercising some caution."[/color]

Seth exchanged looks with Sol, shrugged, and moved towards the desk, producing a small burlap sack.

[color=RoyalBlue]"We were able to identify the body as one of the miners,"[/color] he began, [color=RoyalBlue]"A fella who only went by 'D.B.'  No family in the camp, no close friends, only a few friends at the No. 10 Saloon.  Seems he came here looking for gold.  What he [i]found[/i], though...."[/color]

Opening the bag, Seth poured the contents onto Al's desk.  A handful of pitch-black stones, criss-crossed with veins of sickly glowing green.

[color=Violet]"My God,"[/color] Stubbs exclaimed, [color=Violet]"....is that--"[/color]

[color=RoyalBlue]"Ghost Rock,"[/color] Bullock answered with a nod.  [color=RoyalBlue]"His wagon is [i]full[/i] of it.  Enough to buy a mansion in the hills..."[/color]

[color=Tan]"Or burn down a city,"[/color] Sol added.

Ghost Rock was a mineral only discovered after the Great Quake of '68 on the West Coast.  It burned far hotter than coal, and could be used as a power source for contraptions beyond the wildest imagination.  As the war between the North and South dragged on, both sides were looking for any edge over their enemies, which meant that these days a fistful of Ghost Rock was worth nearly ten times its weight in gold.

[color=Olive]"...s-so....that makes us rich, d-don't it?"[/color] Farnum asked sheepishly.

[color=FireBrick]"It makes us all [i]fucked[/i], is what it makes us,"[/color] Swearengen answered, [color=FireBrick]"Unless we play this very carefully.  The second word gets out that there's a vein of Ghost Rock this size out here, the camp is going to be swarming with outsiders.  Blue Coats, Gray Coats, scientists, mystics, Mormons, you name it.  And that's just the folks who'll be coming here [i]willingly.[/i]  This stuff does things to people, calls out to 'em like it's got a mind of its own.  You mark my fuckin' words, before this day is out, we're going to see people wanderin' into Deadwood that we've never seen before, who have no idea that the rock is even here.  There is going to be blood on the streets that'll make last year's disaster look like a spring dance.  And we have to decide, here and now, how we're going to deal with it."[/color]

[color=RoyalBlue]"...I suppose,"[/color] Bullock began, [color=RoyalBlue]"I can start looking for deputies.  People who can help keep the peace."[/color]

[color=Violet]"I believe between the two of us,"[/color] Stubbs said to Al, [color=Violet]"our girls can get an information exchange going, find all about any newcomers and their secrets before they get out of line."[/color]

[color=Olive]"I-I-I can hold of any, um, 'ambassadors' from the Yankees and Rebels, and t-tell you what they tell me,"[/color] Farnum added.

[color=SandyBrown]"I ain't helpin' you with shit, Al,"[/color] Jane scowled.  [color=SandyBrown]"But if Bullock needs me to put a critter down, I can get a posse together."[/color]

[color=Lime]"And, of course, I can keep the town notified of any events or opportunities,"[/color] Merrick added.  [color=Lime]"At least, those you see fit to print."[/color]

[color=FireBrick]"Well, I suppose that settles it, then,"[/color] Al sighed, opening a drawer on his desk and producing a bottle of swill.  [color=FireBrick]"To interesting fuckin' times."[/color]