KingTony

"When your past catches up to you."

"I’ll make sure they're all safe.

William stepped closer and offered his hand to the other man. As they clasped in a strong shake, the younger of the two said, "Thank you, Garrett. Keziah is lucky to have a friend like you." William smiled wider, stressing, "I'm lucky ... to have a friend like you."

"If you have any sort of idea of where you're going to be … well … I can try to send word when the child is born. You deserve to know."

"New York," William said without hesitation. He glanced toward Keziah, wondering whether she would think he was again contemplating finding his ancestor, or more specifically the rifle that two and a half centuries from now would be responsible for bringing him here. Trying to reassure her that he had no intention of leaving her, William added, "No particular reason ... only that I ... I know a little bit more about New York than many do. I, um ... I might be able to fair well there ... begin preparing for a future that will include a wife and two children."

William glanced to Keziah's massive belly, then reached out to caress a hand over it. He moved closer to her, whispering, "I'll see my son soon enough." He laughed. "And if it turns out that my son is a daughter ... then, I'll see her soon instead."

He took Keziah into his arms again, holding her for a long moment, then exchanged his farewells and helped Garrett to get her into the carriage. He watched the two of them depart over the rough road, tears filling his eyes as he realized that he'd likely never see his family again. He'll take care of them, he thought of Garrett, still believing that the man had intimate designs -- or, at least, marital ones -- on Keziah. Maybe it was better that way: the likelihood of William and Keziah rejoining one another was small, so maybe it was good that she had a strong, stable, land owning male who loved and cared for her so close at hand.

.....................

William kept busy for the next few hours. As Garrett had promised, Gabriel did indeed arrive, though he arrived with two neighbor men William recognized from the church's congregation. William feared for a moment that perhaps they'd come to take him into custody. Had Garrett's love -- maybe lust? -- for Keziah gone to extremes? Did Keziah know that her long time friend was conspiring to have her husband taken off to the Redcoats, to the Patriots, or to any other Authority who happened to be handy?

But no such fear manifested, and the men explained that they were simply here to escort the boy and help William with his last tasks. As he and Keziah had discussed during their time together before her departure, anything and every thing that could be hauled away would be. The cattle were lashed together, as were the goats. William had already filled a horse cart with some of the Black Family's most sentimental possessions, and those that couldn't be hauled away immediately he'd taken off into the woods and hidden below layers of cut pine bows for later retrieval.

Though it was a solemn event, there was a bit of humor as Gabriel spent almost an hour chasing down and caging the chickens, ducks, and geese. By the time he was done, the cacophony of avian noise was almost deafening. William thanked the men, then gave one a slip of paper he wished to be given to Keziah the next day. It told her that he'd contact her soon, but that if she didn't get a letter from her before his child's first birthday, she was to forget him and go on without him. Then, cryptically, it ended with the line, "Don't believe everything you read."

For the second time that day, William stood before the Black homestead, watching others depart it...

.....................

Three days later:

A mounted Militiaman approached Garrett's farm at a full gallop, pulling up on the reins to literally slide the horse across the recently rained-upon packed dirt as he dismounted with great riding skills. He rushed up to the house and was about to reach out for the door when the home owner opened it wide and asked with concern, "What is it?"

The Corporal encouraged the home owner outside. Garrett stepped onto the plank porch and -- glancing back at Keziah -- closed the door behind him. The two men chatted for a moment, and then -- just as quickly -- the Corporal mounted his horse again to depart. But he paused when he caught sight of Keziah at the now open door and let his lips widen in a wicked bit of a satisfied smirk. He kicked his horse's sides and shot off down the road again.

Garrett turned to his guest, a rolled scroll of paper in his hands. He glanced to the paper, then summarized what the man had told him. "The, um ... the Massachusetts Fourth Regiment ... General Arnold's unit ... they ... they've had men searching for William ... a full division it seems. The messenger said--"

The words caught in his throat as he contemplated how this was going to affect Keziah. He drew a deep breath, exhaled, and continued, "He doesn't know exactly who found him ... who caught William ... but ... they brought him back to the farm ... to your farmstead..."

He unrolled the paper and offered it out to Keziah. It was rough, dirty, and tattered, with a rip in it from where it had been hung around something from a string or line through a hole in the paper, then later ripped off. It was stained with fire ash, like finger prints, as though someone who had recently touched a burnt object had handled it.

"The messenger says they hung William from the--" The words again stuck in his throat, and he repeated his deep in and out breathing before continuing, "From the tree ... the elm near the end of the road ... then ... they burnt him ... and ... after the flames were gone ... hung that around his neck."

The piece of paper simply said, EXECUTED FOR TREASON!

..................

((Forgive the post. I'm very tired.))

No, don't be silly. You post as little or as much as you want! :)

I'm so tickled to be writing with you.

"When your past catches up to you."

"You have to go with Garrett," William answered without hesitation. He saw her reaction, continuing, "I made a mistake returning as I did. I ... I should have been more cautious. But ... there's nothing to be done about that now. It's not like I can travel back in time, right?"

He smiled at the private joke, then kissed Keziah on the forehead. With an arm around his wife, William looked to Garrett and said, "Take them home with you. Now. I'll take care of things here. Can I borrow your boy for a few last minute chores? I promise you, no harm will come to him."

"Rabies 2.0" (An "I Am Legend" inspired RP/Game)

So, we aren't starting yet, but I wanted to explain how we are going to use the 3 threads:

• IC Thread: Game Turns only.
  
  • Just like with a tabletop role play game.
  • The GM will set the stage.
  • Players will post their PC’s actions.
  • The GM will execute die rolls as needed and post results for die rolls and/or PC actions.
  • And so on.
• OOC Thread: OOC questions, comments, and concerns.
  
  • Just like with any other RP.
  • The GM and Players both can use this thread to clarify situations, make suggestions, offer story concept ideas, and more.
  • If what you have to ask or say is SOLELY for one other player or for the GM, I would prefer you took care of it in a PM instead. Don’t bother everyone with having to read things that have absolutely nothing to do with them.
  • NO CHAT. If it isn’t about the game, it doesn’t belong in this or ANY of the threads. I encourage chat between players, but in PMs only.
• Character Profile Thread: the name says it all.
  
  • Character Profile information ONLY.
  • Players will post their own PC profile.
  • This means that the Players are responsible for updating their profiles, including such things as improved abilities, increased knowledge, new possessions, and more.
  • Players will need to update their PC profiles BEFORE taking their next turn.
  • No update, no turn. That’s fair.
  • The GM:
    
    • Will maintain a Cast of Characters making access to Profiles easy.
    • And will create a pseudo-profiles for NPCs (Non Player Characters).
    • NO CHAT and NO OOC in the Character thread.

"Rabies 2.0" (An "I Am Legend" inspired RP/Game)

"Rabies 2.0" (An "I Am Legend" inspired RP/Game)

This RP/Game is still in the creation phase, but if it looks interesting to you, please feel free to subscribe and/or PM me.

PLEASE don't post to this thread yet. I need the top few reply posts to help organize it all. If you subscribe, you will know when it's time. Trust me.

Character Profile Sheet:

IMPORTANT

• Profiles are to be completed and PMd to me, NOT posted here.
• I will edit and format the profiles the way I want them, then post them.
• Why?
• I have to be able to update your profiles often, and if you post them, I can't.
• You are MORE than welcome to have a secondary profile page, where you can add and delete information that you feel is important to you but which hasn't made it onto your official profile sheet. I encourage this!
• To complete the profile sheet below, just answer the questions as best you can.
• It is not necessary to delete all of the explanatory notes. I will.
• It is not necessary to answer every question. You can add stuff later by simply asking me to add it (presuming I haven't already).
• If you need more bullet points, add them; if you don't use them all, I'll delete them myself.
• PLEASE remember that I am conducting this game on my phone, and that I sometimes use my voice recognition to write posts as I am walking or biking about. Please give your character a short, common name that my voice recognition will understand. (If you don't, I have to edit it by hand, and that slows the game down.)

Name:

Current Location/Situation: (Ignore for now. Yet to be determined.)

Possessions: (Ignore for now. I will roll for all of this after discussing it with you.)

• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .

Image: (photos only, no art.)

Physical Description:

• Age.
• Height.
• Weight.
• Other: missing limbs, limps, disabilities, etc.

Personality: (tell us something about your character. Add or delete bullet points as necessary.)

• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .

Background:

• Place of birth.
• Family.
• Education.
• More.
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .
• .

"When your past catches up to you."

The knock on the door had caused William's heart to leap in his chest. He'd barely made it home, barely spent time with his wife, barely acknowledged the child he hadn't realized he'd helped create and now -- this quickly and this soon -- it was all over. As Keziah moved to the door, he faded back out of view to beyond the open door to the bedroom.

"Where is he?"

William recognized the voice as that of Keziah's former brother-in-law, Garrett. During his time before leaving for the Second and, ultimately, Canada, William had spent some time around Garrett, mostly at social events such as church, weddings, funerals, and christenings. Garrett had come by the farm occasionally, and William -- with Edward and Keziah -- had even been to Garrett's. But while the two had always been cordial with one another and never shied from approaching and speaking to one another at gatherings, they'd never been what you could call overly friendly let alone attempted to become friends in the true sense of the word.

William had seen the way Garrett glanced at or talked to Keziah, and Edward had told him about the bond between the two brothers and -- after Charles's death -- the changing bond between Garrett and Keziah. Garrett had wanted Keziah in the way men want any beautiful woman. Oh sure, that was just William's belief: he had never seen the man do anything toward accomplishing such an end. But William knew. Whether driven by loyalty to his dead brother or desire for his dead brother's wife, William had just known that if he hadn't come along in the way he did -- traveling through time with an AK-47 bullet wound to the belly -- Garrett would have eventually found some way to make Keziah his own.

"What do you want, Garrett?"

Keziah relented and allowed the man past, and William stepped out of the bedroom to face him.

"Why?" Garrett asked, glaring at the slightly shorter William, "Why come back to Lexington at all if you're just going to put them in danger?"

William could answer the more clarified portion of Garrett's question, if you're just going to put them in danger. William had known his return would be a problem, yet he'd come home because, "She's my wife, Garrett. Keziah is my wife ... Rose Anne is my daughter..."

He moved to his right a bit, taking Keziah gently by the elbow and pulling her close enough so that he could lay a hand upon her belly, continuing suddenly with more pride and joy than the shock that had struck him initially, "And this ... this is my son."

The First War

Near the harbor:

Paul smiled broadly at Sophia’s suggestion that she come to his room later. It was not something a lady asked … or a Lady asked. But then, Paul was happy to learn that Sophia was neither.

“I have no plans for the immediate time,” he said, boldly moving ahead quickly. “Perhaps you would be interested in returning to my room now.”

…………..

In the Black Raven Inn:

Crone was no idiot. He knew Olivia had been here to meet with Lord Paul, though he couldn’t know whether her intentions had been simply to make nice with a fellow Noble out of respect, to aid him in a plot to overthrow her father, or something in between. At her declaration that she and Darma had been about to return to the Castle, Crone bow politely to Olivia, half turned to gesture toward the tavern’s front door, then said with feigned respect, “As we seem to be heading the same way, m’lady … my men and I would be pleased to escort you and your maiden back to the Castle.”

While the two of them had been chatting the men who had arrived with Crone had been making their way inside the tavern, spreading about the floor with swords and bows already in hand … and watchful eyes solidly upon Winston and the others. These were not mere Guardsmen, though: they were from Count Lars Barker’s personal Body Guard, ruthless men who were not above burning entire villages and slaughtering their populations to get at just a single wanted man hiding within them.

Winston knew the type. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Paul’s nobility and sense of law and order and for his loyalty to the Duke, Winston himself might have become just such a man. He looked to Olivia as he grasped the hilt of his own sword. He was ready to personally kill each and every one of Crone’s men simply with a nod from Lady Olivia. He glanced about again, counting: inside, Winston’s men outnumbered Crones, now 12 to 7; but outside, the sound of approaching horses told Winston that he was about to be quickly outnumbered 2 to 1.

But he looked to Olivia with a clenching jaw and confident stare, asking softly and knowingly, “M’lady…?”

All she had to do was tell Crone she didn’t want to go with him...

Seeking 2-4 players for simple Zombie Apocalypse tabletop-like game

Seeking 2-4 players for simple Zombie Apocalypse tabletop-like game:

Basic Story:

• Inspired by the movie "I Am Legend".
• In 2023, a re-engineered measles virus -- originally created as a cure for cancer -- mutates into a highly viral and highly lethal Rabies-like virus.
• It spreads rapidly across the planet:
  
  • 1% of those infected are immune.
  • 94% of those infected die.
  • And the remaining 5% of those infected mutate into fast moving, vicious, nocturnal predators who will come to be known as Darkseekers.

You ... are the Immune!

• The viral apocalypse -- dubbed "Rabies 2.0" -- struck quickly.
• You were out and about, doin' whatcha do, when you found yourself surrounded by Darkseekers.
• You flee to safety, but now find yourself trapped: you are away from your home, away from all that you own and all whom you know, with only the resources you had on you or found in your current location.
• Three days of mayhem have passed, and finally things have quieted down outside.
• What do you do now?
• You must survive ... but how?
• If you remain indoors, hiding away, you'll starve to death.
• But if you go outside, you could be attack, killed, and eaten.
• Decisions, decisions.

How the game is played:

• I am LITERALLY making this up off the top of my head!
  
  • I just wanted that out there, in case you were looking for a complete list of rules and guidelines.
  • So ... how do we play a game with no rules or guidelines?
  • Let's find out, shall we?
• We begin with me setting the stage.
• Then, we will have you complete a Character Profile.
• Then, using virtual dice, I will roll for such things as your current resources, your current security situation, your access to weapons (if any), your current medical needs, and more.
• From that point, you will have to decide what you want to do.

Frequency and length of posting Turns:

• Me, as Game Master:
  
  • I will check for newly posted Turns almost every morning, almost every night, and several times in between each one of those mornings and nights.
  • I will respond to your Turn ASAIC ("as soon as I can". I was never a fan of the acronym ASAP.)
  • I will keep my posts short and sweet and simple, for two reasons: one, to keep the game moving; and two, because -- with the recent demise of my computer -- I am operating totally on a phone now.
  • In fact, this page you are reading is far longer and more complex than anything you will likely see in the game.
• You, as Player:
  
  • You will hopefully be as diligent as I, though I don't require it.
  • Since the individual characters of individual players don't necessarily have to be in proximity to one another; and since those characters can interact solely with me, the Game Master, it isn't necessary for all Players to play at the same pace.
  • There is lots of flexibility, so ... relax, and have fun!

I have to go to work, but I will add more information later.

If you have an interest in at least trying this out, drop a reply.

"When your past catches up to you."

William was on the edge of tears as well. What had been going through his mind as he plotted, then carried out the assassination of a then-loyal Patriot General? Keziah was right, of course: Benedict Arnold may not have turned traitor after all. William was entirely educated on the reasons behind Arnold's betrayal, but what if the changes for which William himself had been responsible -- changes which led to the great victories at Boston and then Quebec City -- had changed Arnold's view of the Revolution enough to prevent him from turning his back on the Cause?

"You're right," he murmured, his eyes on the floor near his wife's feet. "You're right. I may have made a mistake." He hesitated, then looked up into Keziah's eyes and corrected, "No ... I made a mistake. Whether or not the General betrayed America or not ... I made a mistake. Because you're right. I put my family in danger."

Keziah had finished with the last bandage, so William stood and began pacing about the cabin slowly, working his mind hard and fast yet coming up with no other answer than the need to run. But Keziah was right about that again: she was with child -- seriously so -- and running wasn't a very good option at this time.

He was about to tell Keziah that they'd stay put until the baby was born. After all, no one knew he'd returned yet. No one ... but an excited 12 year old boy who had just been relieved of his duties taking care of the pregnant neighbor lady. Gabriel had surely begun telling his family about the return of Missus Kutcher's husband. And those people would soon be telling their neighbors and their fellow church goers. And then, it was only a matter of time before someone hunting William -- whether Redcoat or Rebel -- came looking for him.

"I have to leave," he said bluntly. He turned to look to Keziah, his eyes filled with tears. He wiped them away as she had hers, then continued, "You'll be safe here. No one's going to harm you for what I did. I mean ... it wasn't like I killed General George Washington himself. Hell, it was only Benedict Arnold."

Of course, at this time in history -- particularly after Canada -- that was like saying it wasn't like I killed Cher herself. Hell, it was only Sonny. William had killed a man who was beloved by enough people that he'd soon have all sorts of soldiers and bounty hunters after his head.

"I'll go east," he continued, his mind racing. "I'll find us a place. Some place safe. And I'll come back and get you."

It wasn't the best plan in the world, but it certainly wasn't the worst. Of course, the worst part of it was that William likely wouldn't be here for the birth of his first child. How could he not be here for the birth of his first child. Suddenly, his mind was racing on other thoughts. He moved back to Keziah and fell to his knees before her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to his baby's current residence and began to sob at the many thoughts he wouldn't have expected to be having a year ago when he was preparing for the annual Siege reenactment.

The First War

Near the harbor:

"You did not have to trouble yourself, my Lord," Sophia told Paul.

The Duke had seen the delight in the girl's eyes, though, so he knew he'd made a good call.

"Thank you," she said in a soft voice.

"No, thank you," Paul told her, reaching to a bottle of weak breakfast wine. He poured some into small, wide based glasses designed not to topple in such a setting, telling Sophia, "You honor me with your presence."

Paul could see Sophia's hesitation, and he wondered whether some of the food was unfamiliar to her. With a knowledge that had begun in a noble home and been expanded by a decade of travel, he began explaining what some of the more mysterious items were. He laughed and blushed, explaining, "I had one of my men teach the Innkeeper's daughter how to make a couple of these. Try them. I assure you, they are safe, despite what they look like."

He lifted a bowl of green paste that looked almost like it had come out of the backend of a sick goat, sniffed at it, wrinkled his nose as if it stunk horribly, the spread some on a cracker-like thin slice of hard bread. It crunched in his mouth, and as he groaned his appreciation, he offered the second hand of it out toward Sophia. "Delicious. Close your eyes if you must, but trust me ... you'll love it."

They went on with their breakfast, chatting about the town about Sophia's family, about what she did for a living. Paul had a suspicion that she was holding things back, perhaps even an association to the very Nobleman for whom he'd thought Sophia worked the night before when he'd groped her very private areas. But she was charming and seemingly harmless, and whether or not she was linked to Lars Barker, Paul wanted to get to know her better. In fact, even if she was linked to the Count, Paul thought it might be a good idea to keep Sophia close to him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, he reminded himself as they ate and talked and laughed.

"I promised to regale you with tales of my adventures, didn't I?" he reminded her at one point. "I find them boring myself, but ... if the result it that you spend more time in my presence, I would speak about them with you until the end of time."

Paul was laying it on thick, because by the time they'd pretty much filled their bellies he'd concluded that he just had to get between this beautiful creature's thighs at the earliest moment. He stood and looked to the Innkeeper's daughter, Chloe, asking her to pack up what remained of the meal, which was significant. To Sophia, Paul said, "It would be a shame for this to go to waste. Shall we have Chloe deliver it to your home ... to your sisters?"

Paul offered Sophia an elbow and walked her down closer to the water's edge as the girl behind them packed up everything except the blanket, glasses, and another full bottle of breakfast wine. The drink was barely more than flavored water, made specifically as a more healthy option to the potentially germ-ridden water commonly consumed by Commoners. But Paul knew it had just enough alcohol in it to sometimes loosen inhibitions, morals, and thighs; and despite the fact that it wasn't even noon yet and their blanket was laid out in a somewhat public place, Paul had every desire to lay Sophia out upon it before he went off to more important duties.

"I left Westrock when I was but 17 years old," he began. He told her of his father and older brother's disappearance in the east, of his attempt to find them -- dead or live -- and of how he'd failed, and of how his force had remained in the east to fight the forces of the Black Duke, who had been at the heart of the conflict that had so devastated the Continent for a generation. "I wanted to come home often, but ... the time and opportunity simply did not present themselves."

He talked of men he had lost, of adventures in which he'd partaken. He never talked about women he'd met, because the presumption was that as a fighting Noble, he'd fucked most of them. That wasn't the news he wished to depart to Sophia just before he made a play for her. As they turned to head back up the slight slope toward their picnic spot -- now being watched over not by Chloe but by a pair of hungry ravens cleaning up the wayward crumbs and such -- Paul explained about returning home.

"I had lost as many men as I could allow," he said in a sincere tone of regret. "Men who had died for no reason. We found no evidence of my father or brother ... we heard no word. We beat back the Black Duke again and again, only to see him surge forth once more. We were spilling blood for no reason. It was time to come home."

He glanced off to his right, beyond Portston toward the Castle. It was his home, always had been. And yet, if he tried to go home now, his last thought would probably be So that's what a sword in the back feels like. He gave Sophia a hand, helping her to the blanket, before sitting down himself ... noticeably closer to her than he had been before. He looked into her eyes for a moment, then reached out to pull from her hair a tiny leaf that had found refuge in her hair. He spun it in his finger tips by the stem, then tossed it aside as he asked with a polite smile and tone, "Why are you here, Sophia...? Why are you here ... with me? Without sounding as if I do not appreciate and honor your company ... please tell me ... what do you want from me?"

As a Nobleman with means and needs, Paul wouldn't be surprised in the least if the young woman's response was akin to I want to 'service' you and be compensated appropriately. In truth, he wouldn't be disappointed either. But he still felt that there was something more behind Sophia's appearance the night before and her wonderful company here this morning than just a willingness to let him fuck her for coinage...

...............

In the tavern of the Black Raven Inn:

"I see no reason why my safety is at risk..." Olivia began explaining to the Castle Guardsman who had cut her off at the door.

Winston's attention had been drawn away by the men approaching on horseback down the street, but now he turned it back to the two women at the door and the Count's men who -- by now -- had also realized that they weren't the only men rising to the occasion in the tavern. The Castle Guardsmen had, of course, known that some of the other men in the tavern were likely Duke Paul's, yet when as many of them as did stood to close slowly on the activity at the door, nervous expressions filled their faces and anxious hands reached for the hilts of swords and daggers.

Olivia told the man before her, "If you will excuse me..."

The Lady of Ryrstone pushed past the man, joining Darma as Winston and his men casually began to fill the space between them and the men who had been sent to retrieve them. The man who had spoke to Olivia finally caught sight of Winston to his right: his eyes grew large at the sight of the 6'8" man. Winston wasn't wearing his battle armor or carrying his heaviest of weapons, yet in his studded leather with his short sword and multiple daggers dangling from his hips, he was still a formidable sight.

"I am Yules, Lieutenant of the Castle of Westrock Guard, servant of his Noble Lord, Count Barker of Ryrstone, Regent of Westrock," the man began in a firm tone that -- with anyone other than Winston -- likely would have caused a potential attacker to back off. Attacking a servant of a Noble was no different than attacking his Noble directly in many cases. "I am here on orders from the House of Westrock--"

"I am the House of Westrock, little man," Winston barked back at Yules. "I am Sir Winston, Lord of Greenbrier, Lieutenant to the true Noble Lord of the Duchy of Westrock..." He hesitated for just a moment, unsure of whether to say what he wanted. In the end, his hatred for the Count won out. He continued with an ever hardening tone that was causing the others around him to prepare for a fight, "...the true heir to the Castle in which your false Lord sits ... the true Duke ... whose family has been dishonored ... jailed ... murdered ... by your honorable Count Ryrstone."

Yules's panic was increasing inside him, and despite the overwhelming size of the man approaching him, he reached for the hilt of his sword and pulled. The blade had barely cleared its sheath when a powerful back hand from Winston struck the smaller man in the head, snapping it to one side. Yules flew back atop a nearby table, sliding over and beyond it. Though no one knew it yet, the Guardsman Lieutenant was dead of a broken neck before his body came to a rest on the hard plank floor.

All about the room, swords and daggers were ripped from their scabbards as the two Guard forces prepared for battle. Then, suddenly, four arrows thunked into the tables between the men. Paul's men didn't even flinch at the aerial attack, but most of the Castle Guardsmen looked up to find the four archers on the Inn's second floor walkway already notching their second missiles.

"Get out...!" Winston growled at the suddenly less confident Guardsmen. He added, "...or die."

"I would prefer they not die this morn'," a voice spoke from the shadows.

Winston looked to tavern's entrance, finding a man of confidence standing there, casually removing his riding gloves. Winston recognized him as having been leading the other riders approaching the Inn, and he told him with his own confident tone, "Then perhaps you should tell them to sheath their weapons ... and get the fuck out."

Crone looked to the dead man on the floor, then to the other Guardsmen. With a nod of his head, the others did as directed and -- at Winston's additional order -- gathered their dead comrade and pulled him out the door. Crone entered at a slow but determined pace, skirting around the opposite end of the table near which Winston stood. He never even hinted at feeling the need to arm himself, nor did he hint at feeling any danger walking alone amongst the group of men who had been so near killing a half dozen of his Guard. He closed the distance to the Noblewoman standing near the bar, bowed respectfully, and said, "Lady Olivia, if I may have the honor of your momentary company, I have a message from your father."

"When your past catches up to you."

"And I missed her, too," William said, picking Rose Anne up. As he let her play with his nose and long-uncut hair, William looked to Keziah again. "And I missed you."

He was playful with the toddler for a long moment before setting her down again with his hat as a toy. He shed his shirt and trousers, wincing occasionally. One by one, a series of now dirty bandages were revealed: they were wraps or patches on both arms, his chest, his back, a hip, and a thigh.

"It was my fault, actually," William confessed with an embarrassed tone. "I surprised it ... came up upon it on the trail in the dark ... five feet from the thing before either of us saw the other in the moonlight. Jesus! The thing looked huge, though ... I'm sure it was just a black bear, not brown."

As Keziah gently worked the blood-stained bandages from William's body, the claw marks from the bear's attack revealed themselves to be numerous but not deadly. William had never been in danger of bleeding out. Infection had been his own real concern.

"They tell you to wear a bell when you're hiking through the woods, so you don't surprise them," he continued, trying to laugh but seriously wondering whether since his initial first aid, he'd developed any infection. "But hell, in my time, the only bears in Massachusetts are at the zoo."

The topic of why there were no longer any bears in the wilds of Massachusetts would probably come up later. William would be more happy to discuss that with Keziah. On the other hand, he would be more uncomfortable about explaining why he'd used the phrase in my time in reference to the 21st century when he had clearly and honestly told Keziah he had no wish to return to that era. It hadn't been meant to insinuate his anxiousness to return to 2017 -- which, he guessed, was now 2018, if it worked that way -- but had meant to simply remind her that he'd come from another time.

"I came across a house in the woods the next morning," he explained as Keziah began cleaning the wounds and bandaging them. "There was an older man and his--" William chuckled. "His very young wife ... Leah ... I bet she wasn't 13. They took good care of me."

William had been intentionally avoiding Keziah's question about his travels. He didn't know how to explain to her that his sudden return required a sudden departure as well. Over his time with Keziah before leaving for Quebec, William had come to call the history he knew before arriving here in her time as Real History; and when he talked about current events that were now different because of things he'd done, he referred to them as Alternate History. It had seemed the easiest way to keep things straight when they discussed what had been, what was now, and what might one day be.

"Real history remembers General Benedict Arnold as a traitor to his country," he began as Keziah continued working on his wounds. He explained about how after being passed over for specific missions and denied the credit for some great accomplishments, Arnold had become disillusioned with the Rebel Cause and attempted to turn over control of the Fort at West Point to the British. "His imminent betrayal was uncovered before he could do it and was thwarted."

He chuckled, asking, "Did I really just use the words disillusioned, imminent, and thwart in the same breath?"

He went on to explain about Canada. "With Washington's death, I wanted to help the Patriots win at Quebec City. I thought ... I thought maybe it might be necessary to keep us ... the US, America, the Colonies, whatever you want to call'em ... to keep'em on a roll ... to make up for George's loss. So ... I helped General Arnold win at Quebec City..."

He winced at the tightening of a bandage around his arm, laughed, then got serious after Keziah looked into his eyes. He said bluntly and with a hint of regret, not for Arnold, but for himself, "I helped Benedict Arnold, Keziah ... and then I killed him.

William explained about the horse fall, the broken leg, the hotel hospital; he held off on graphically explaining sticking a bayonet into the General's throat, though, a bloody event that sometimes still woke him from his nightmares. "I ... I wanted to prevent him from betraying us in the near future ... and ... I thought I could do it without getting caught. But ... I was. And now--"

The words stuck in his throat, and he had to look away for a moment. He'd hoped to come home to his wife and her family farm and live a comfortable life in the soon-to-be United States of America. But...

"Keziah, Benedict Arnold will go down in Alternate History as the man who captured Quebec City, and -- likely -- the whole of Canada," William continued. "And I--" He paused, clearing his throat. "And my name ... it will go down in that same Alternate History ... in your history ... in your history with me..."

His eyes teared up but he fought through them, "I have been branded a traitor to the Rebel Cause. My name ... the name of William Kutcher ... will become the replacement for Benedict Arnold as the equivalent of traitor."