The Alamo (pm to join)

[Douglas Lee]

The Alamo (closed now)

OOC: This roleplay is about the Alamo. I have been interested in the Alamo since I was a boy and yes, long before the 2004 or whatever year the movie was made. I know just about everything there is to know about the Alamo and I decided what the hell, try an rp about it then. PM me to join. If noone joins in a while, I'll abandon it.
Anyways, I'm a native Tennessean, so I'll pick Tennessee's most prominent son at the Alamo: yes, the one, the only, Davey Crockett

Name: Davey Crockett
Age: 49, going on 50 at the time
Weapon: Flintlock musket named Old Betsy
Rank: Private Colonel, his own requested unique rank

I'll start when I have at least two more people. Enjoy.

 

[Jagged]

Hi Lee,

I am insterested...always liked Jim Bowie, but would be more interested in playing someone like him. Maybe we should play a more fictionalized version though I have no problem playing a game were we all die quickly. Personally I liked John Wayne's version. Hell it was pretty off base, but hell of a movie. Perhaps a whole Texas campaign.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Kool. Just need one more person then.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Okay, another dude started playing Jim Bonham, the courier. So we've got Crockett, Bowie and Bonham. I'll put in a starting post today probably. Just wait a while, guys. By the way, this is now closed to us.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Writing out a post now.

 

[fcdc]

Howdy. I'm the courier. Should be interesting, anyway. I might lean towards Bonham being actually back and forth the Alamo after Fannin refuses to send troops in late February, just for the interest of RP (and there's nothing saying he couldn't have been there in the records, in between the trip to Victoria and whatnot).

I'll keep my eyes peeled for the post and toss in an intro before heading to bed.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Anger gleamed on Crockett's sweaty face as he peered at the Mexican troops marching into San Antonio.

"Damn Mexes," he muttered as the Alamo troops began to retreat to the mission, carrying a few women and children and some cows and horses and corn for supplies. Spoils of war, Travis had called it.

Crockett raised Old Betsy and boomed off a smoking shot at the distant Mexican uselessly before turning and following the troops inside, passing Bowie and Bonham, who were sitting their horses and looking at the Mexicans as well.

 

[Douglas Lee]

K kool, it's nice to have another Alamo buff around.

 

[fcdc]

Name: James Bonham
Age: 29
Weapon: North's 1816 Flintlock, standard cavalry gear.
Mount: Palomino at the moment, later switched out to a white horse in the early days of March.
Rank: Depends on whom you're asking. Colonel to Travis, second lieutenant to everyone else. No standing in chain of command.
Description: 6'2" (quite tall for the era), dark hair and eyes, straight posture. Perennially hatted, has a white handkerchief.
-----
http://img3.glowfoto.com/images/2007/05/03-0347422568T.jpg
-----
The trip southeast to Victoria and Goliad had been a hard ride for both James' palomino and himself. To worsen matters, the bastards had promised no help. The only thing that had happened was some local girl, interested in celebrating his twenty-ninth birthday in ways that his law training had taught him were probably illegal.

Still, when he was feeling optimistic, he imagined they might not need help. There was this new man, Crockett, who seemed a good sort, and Bowie was around as well. Bowie was a good fellow. Bowie knew his way around a knife, and Travis had invited him.

James trusted Travis' sense in people. Bill Travis had invited him to Texas. The two had gone to the same church together as children. James' older brother Simeon had brought them in contact back in '29, and he was thankful for that.

He had gotten back in touch with Bill, and now he wanted to contact another friend, Sam Houston. Sam was heading for Gonzales, and Gonzales had not yet been informed of the situation here at the garrison. Going to Gonzales on his next round on horseback was starting to look like a good option indeed.

Leaning back on the Morgan horse, James glanced up towards the trapper, Crockett, as he spoke, then looked towards the town and the dusty column of enemy soldiers. The Mexican hadn't noticed the shot. The Mexicans had no scout between the town and the fortress, or someone would have raised the alarm within seconds.

"And damn Fannin too." He had not meant to say that aloud, but he spoke a lot of things he did not intend to speak. Might as well own up to it, he thought, and drew a breath. "He won't give us any help, you know. No balm in Goliad."

If he had any hope for anything, it was that Bowie would appreciate the pun of those words.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Okay, now we'll wait for the dude playing Bowie to post.

 

[fcdc]

Cool. I write lengthily in general. Sorry about that! If you want shorter, I can chop it, but heck, it was worth a shot.

 

[Douglas Lee]

No, dude. Frankly, I usually write that long too on other boards but I usually don't on here. Dunno why really. So it's kool, okay?

 

[fcdc]

No, dude. Frankly, I usually write that long too on other boards but I usually don't on here. Dunno why really. So it's kool, okay?

Cool. But Jim Bowie appears to have vanished into the ether? I'll leave it to you to PM the person who'd expressed interest.

 

[Douglas Lee]

We'll just continue without him. Why don't yo go ahead and post again?

 

[fcdc]

We'll just continue without him. Why don't yo go ahead and post again?

Alrighty then. (Plz note - Probably no reply tomorrow as my next big final is Wednesday AM; I have a smaller one tomorrow PM and then am supposed to go straight into studying. Finals week. Don't be surprised if you get a reply tomorrow anyway, mind you! Just don't rely on it. )

*****


No response from Bowie. A momentary pang of apology shot through the messenger, but it went unvoiced. Bonham shrugged and dismounted, following Crockett's lead towards the mission buildings. The horse was left to Galba to look after. The boy had done a fine job before, and there was no need to begrudge him the opportunity to help out again.

Strange things, these missions, and so unlike the South Carolina architecture he was used to. He had grown accustomed to leaves, to ivy, to columns of old Palladian mansions along the Tidewater. This blockish, squat thing with its jagged roof and beady-eyed windows would have been a blight on the landscape, if there had been any landscape to blight. The engravings on the columns and doorway were meant for a better building.

Yet here he was, for a few more days at least, until he was sent out to gather more troops, or reserves, or whatever Travis needed. He shrugged loosely, ducking into the shade of the building.

"We were here for three weeks before you came," James told Crockett's retreating form. "No help then. I was just out riding to Goliad yesterday, and Fannin can't do a damned thing."

Anger threatened to rise in his voice at the repeated message. Why would Fannin not help them? He couldn't share that concern with Crockett, though. He would have shared it with Travis, but Travis was busy writing yet another letter appealing to help that wouldn't come. He would have shared it with Bowie, but the bladesman had looked so tired over these last few weeks that James figured it was best not to bother the man.

He would have to say something to Crockett, then. His voice lowered. "You'll want to keep an eye on Jim. The other Jim, that is. The Colonel's looking rather," a hesitation, "consumptive."

Upon those last words, James let out a fake cough. He would not spread further slander about Bowie's probable disease, but if Crockett just happened to suggest a medic to the joint commander, so be it. He waited to see what Crockett's reaction would be, trying his best to look like he trusted in his own prediction.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Crockett nodded. He had known this since he met Bowie a little while before.

"I'll see what I can do, James," he said reassuringly. Crockett was an amiable fellow until he got into a scrap and that was when he became the hard-shooting fella he was known to be. "Why don't you go and find yourself some of that beef that the cooks are butchering and roasting up at the Long Barracks, eh? I'm gonna take a count of the men we got."

Crockett headed off, his shoulders slumped slightly.

 

[fcdc]

Worry passed over the hatted man's face, and then a quick nod. "Right, of course. Food couldn't hurt at all." James grinned fleetingly, added a, "The same goes for you as well, Colonel," and then tipped his hat offhandedly as he headed on his way.

He headed east, his back to the adobe huts and the stone wall, and moved towards the two-story extension to the Alamo. The building should have been blown up when Bowie ordered it, he thought, but saw no need to add the words. It was bad enough that they were stuck here, and he had no cause to make it worse.

At least the food was comparatively decent, for an army company. James had to wince when he thought of the protest he'd led in his senior year at South Carolina. They were counting heads in the classes, and the students counted bugs in the food. He had thought that intolerable, had gone to the manager of the boarding house, and had said that he wouldn't stand for it. He was the speaker, of course. He was always the speaker. The dean hadn't liked him anyway, that old bastard, and the protest was only further cause for enmity.

He'd been kicked out, of course, but he hadn't liked college anyway. He had gone to law school instead, but rather than settle down and start practice in Pendleton, he had bigger plans - better plans. They'd involved jail and worse, but he had come through all right.

And now he'd landed here. The food was far worse here than it had ever been at college, but he was a few years older and tougher, and he didn't care anymore. It was passable, for a company, and his stomach growled as he made his way to the barracks.

Hard bread, roasted beef, and coffee sat so long in the pot that it was sludgy was dinner, but it was always dinner. He took this dubious dinner outside into the walled courtyard, after nodding his thanks to the cooks. He wanted to see where the Mexicans had got to by now. Were they settled in San Antonio?

I should saddle up, James thought. Ride out there, play the spy and assassin, and kill as many as I can. At least it'd be a thrill while it lasted. He didn't move for the Morgan horse, though. He sat on the stoop outside the Long Barracks for quite a few silent, meditative minutes, kicking at a cigar stub with his booted toe, and eating his dinner while sitting watch.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Sorry for the five day delay, dude. I'll be getting on the ball maybe tomorrow and I'll post, okay?

 

[fcdc]

Sorry for the five day delay, dude. I'll be getting on the ball maybe tomorrow and I'll post, okay?

Sure thing, take your time and no rush at all.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Crockett sighted down the barrel of his musket and shot the man in the chest, watching as he flopped backwards from the cannon he was positioning to aim at the Alamo.

"God-damn Mexicans," Crockett muttered, as he ducked the possible return fire from the cannons, but there was none. Crockett was picking off too many attendants to be replaced. The Mexicans were starting to abandon the cannons.

"Got time for a lunch break," asked Galba Fuqua, handing Crockett a crude glass plate holding a slab of beef. Crockett grinned and took it, taking a few chomps and then aiming once more, waiitng as he thanked Galba, who sat and watched.

Crockett put the sights on a Mexican artillery sergeant and shot the man in the back of the head, putting him down for good.

"Do you like killing people?" Galba asked as Crockett reloaded.

Crockett thought about that quietly as he sighted down the barrel. He shot another man, and watched as another cannon was abandoned. Three down, three to go. Now he just had to answer Galba's question.

"No, I don't," he answered as he reloaded once more. "But it's necessary."

He shot another man, watching as the bullet got the man in the head, a perfect shot as the pink of blood and gray of brains puffed out behind the falling body.

Galba grimaced.

"That's war, kid," Crocket said grimly as he reloaded. "I just hope Texas is worth it."

He aimed, waiting for movement. The Mexicans were hiding behind the cannons, waiting for a chance to make a break for it.

A wounded soldier stirred beside a cannon, and Crockett fired at the exact moment Galba replied, and he missed the shot.

"Damnit," he said, glaring at the kid, who quietly walked away. Sighing, Crockett put the rifle down and began eating in earnest of the beef the kid had brought: beef and grits, not too bad for being stuck in a tiny adobe mission surrounded by thousands of Mexicans who hated your stinking guts so bad.

Crockett smiled at that.

 

[Douglas Lee]

Hmm . . .