<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Ginny</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=167460.msg7973703#msg7973703">Quote from: esclavage on 31-03-2013, 01:34:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/c0/Ginny_Avatar-01.jpg)</div> <br/><strong>Name:</strong> Virginia 'Ginny' Mary Lou Whateley<br/><strong>Faction:</strong> Whateley Family<br/><strong>Date:</strong> December 14th, 1875 (Approximately six months before game start)<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Casino Morongo<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong> Closed, Deacon Sloane<br/><hr/><br/>     <strong>"Ah kawl, sugah,"</strong>  Ginny rasped out, her voice slurred a bit from both the whiskey she'd been downing, plus the nerves that she was trying to hide.  Irritated because she didn't feel as if anyone else felt the pressure, she poured herself another shot and downed it to hide those nerves even as she threw four bags full of golden eagles onto the ever growing pot.  It was business as usual at Casino Morongo, except that it wasn't.  This Saturday night was a very special one because of the game of poker was being played.  It was the biggest one ever seen in Gomorra and all the big-shots had come to participcate.   The chinaman from Shan Fan whose name Ginny didn't bother remembering.  It had some chinky noise to it though.  The sharp from Sacramento who went by Bold Bill though he should have been called Bold Balls given how he could raise someone over ten grand without a bat of an eyelash.  And finally, the devil himself from the City of Lost Angels known only as the Collector because no one escaped him after they owed him a debt and everyone ended up owing him when he was done playing.  Then, there was little old Miss Virginia Whateley in the mix, the teeny, tiny sheep midst a bunch of wolves.  These were the real players of the game and they had come with all their considerable wealth.  For Ginny, that meant hiring four burly men to help her carry a large lockbox that she kept in her house that was literally stuffed full of golden eagles.  There must have easily been over a hundred thousand dollars in there, a staggering, obscene amount of wealth that represented her lifetime.  There were also some personal effects that she kept safe in there like the deed to her large Southern home that was here in Gomorra, an old, faded card desk that had been what her Unca Nico had first bought her, a picture of her family with a stern, frowning Jebediah as her father, an equally sour-faced Mary-Ann as her mouth and the young, innocent Virginia Whateley at the tender age of four before she had moved out west.   <br/><br/>     Of course, Deacon Sloane was more than happy to sponsor the event since Casino Morongo would be taking a handsome cut of all the winnings that were being displayed here at the very end.  And given how everyone was playing, they'd make him enough to get him a whole extension to the damn place.  It was why there were plenty of Sloane's men around.  With this much money at stake and potential ruin meeting every single man and woman, this was a delicate business.<br/><br/>      In fact, they weren't even playing their usual five-card draw.  Instead, this was some fancier game that came from Texas called Hold'em.  You got a pair of cards and the dealer and left of the dealer posted up a big blind and small blind.  The big blind was a full golden eagle and the small was a half eagle.  Then, three cards were put out and everyone bet.  Then, a fourth card was flipped and another round of betting occurred.  And finally, the last card was flipped on "the River" and fortunes were won and lost.  So far, Ginny hadn't been doing terribly though she definitely wasn't the best one at the table and had taken some hefty losses.  So far, over thirty thousand dollars gone.  Normally, that was even too rich for her blood and she would have bowed out but they all had an agreement to keep playing until the dawn broke.  Basically, there was only going to be one winner to this little game and the rest would be destitute.<br/><br/>     Ginny's face fell as the next card that came out was a four of clubs as she lost the hand.  And with it, another six thousand dollars.  She sucked in her breath and reached for another drink.  It might ave been making her sloppy, but she felt as if she needed it for her nerves.  And for some odd reason, the young Whateley had a sense.  Granted it was a faint sense and maybe it was wrong.  But she felt as if she gutted out this storm that Lady Luck was going to turn her way.  She just knew it, deep down.<br/><br/>     Across from her, the Collector gave a cool smile. <em><strong> "What's the matter, girl?  This ain't the penny ante games you're used to running at your table.  This is the real deal."</strong></em>  The man gave a laugh as he scooped up the pot.  Of all the ones here, he showed off the most skill and the best reads on the others and consequently had been doing the best.  The chinaman was in a similar position to Ginny, suffering a slow bleed of his cash reserves, and Bold Bill had managed to increase his earnings modestly.<br/><br/>     With a cool look from those green Whateley eyes, Ginny just tossed back another shot as she felt the liquor burn down her throat.  <strong>"Yuh jist worry 'bout yerself, darlin'.  Ah'm a big girl and ah kin handle m'self."</strong>  Though she really wasn't certain she felt that way as a fresh pair of cards was dealt out onto the table.  Though as the cards were coming out, sliding onto the table into the waiting players' hands, the young Whateley got an eerie premonition.  This was it.  This was the hand everyone had been waiting for.  The hand where all the high suits came out.  And as Ginny peeked, she saw two Kings.  The King of Diamonds and the King of Clubs.  A strong starting hand and there was some real potential to make a big push.  She just had to be careful of anyone with aces high and most likely someone had it.  The next three cards would tell everything.<br/><br/>     And with a quick glance, Ginny looked at everyone else.  Bold Bill didn't seem too pleased with his hand.  Ginny had managed to pick up on a small tell of his, which was his left ring finger would twitch if he liked what he had.  The chinaman seemed to feel pretty comfortable even as he reached across his face and rubbed at his ear, a sure sign he liked his hand.  And the Collector was still a blank book to Ginny; she hadn't been able to get a bead on him the whole night.  Though deep down, her intuition told her that he was the dangerous one this hand.  There was just something to him that made her feel very cautious about her chances.<br/><br/>     Since she was the big blind, the young Whateley flicked the golden eagle in to start the pot.  The chinaman followed suit with the half eagle.  And then, the three cards came up.  Ace, Queen, King.  The Ace of Hearts, the Queen of Spades, and the King of Hearts.  So far, so good in terms of her prediction.  And Ginny liked what she saw though she was patient and checked her bet.  She didn't want to tip anyone off to her strong pair.  Though the Collector made the first move as he placed a bet for fifteeen thousand dollars, using a few fat five-pound bags of ghostrock as currency.  There was a bit of hesitation and then Bold Bill met him and then raised it another ten grand, bringing it to twenty-five thousand.  Then, it came back to Ginny who wasn't feeling all that great, but her sense was telling to to stay put so twenty-five thousand was thrown in as well as that put her past the halfway mark of her savings.  This hand would be boom or bust for the young Whateley no doubt.<br/><br/>     The chinaman took the longest to decide as he tapped his fingers against the table in a way that made Ginny want to reach over and choke him.  Finally, he also called and threw in twenty-five grand as the pot now looked obscenely huge.  Colorless bags representing fortunes that were so staggering it was hard to believe were there.  And then, the fateful fourth card dropped.  The Ten of Diamonds winked as once again Ginny paused and then decided to make her move as she bet ten thousand to start off with.  Those green eyes still seeking to see if she could figure out who was holding the aces high.<br/><br/>    <em><strong> "Too small, sweetpea.  But it makes sense cause you ain't got no balls to speak of.  Let me show you how a man does it."</strong></em>  The Collector remarked as he called her and raised her another twenty thousand as she caught another tell from Bold Bill.  The man was obviously thinking about folding this hand and trying his luck with another hand.  Yet he felt too committed to simply let go as he added to the pile.  And this time, the chinaman was quicker as he called and...then paused and raised again another five thousand.<br/><br/>     At this point, things were absolutely ridiculous.  Yet Ginny paused and gave a sigh and a shrug.  Why the hell not?  She was already this far in at this point she looked at the table, those Whateley eyes now chips of green ice.  <strong>"Ah'm all-in."</strong> Her voice was flat as she took out the rest of what she owed, every single coin, and threw it into the pot.  Right now, a three of a kind with Kings wasn't too bad.  The only thing that could beat her at this moment was a three of a kind with the aces or a high straight, ace high, if someone had a Jack in hand.<br/><br/>     And at her brazen move was enough to get Bold Bill to fold.  Apparently, it was simply too much to risk it on what he had.  The chinaman spent longer, once again tap, tap, tapping his fingers as the young Whateley wanted to grit her teeth, but settled for another slug of whiskey instead.  And then, he too finally folded as well.  Leaving her alone with the Collector who seemed insufferably confident and smug.  A bad sign for Ginny who suspected that he was holding the aces high.<br/><br/>     Or he could be bluffing her.  He was really hard to read.  <em><strong>"Well, I guess I'm all-in too." </strong></em> And at that, he pushed all his winnings forward, easily double or even triple of what Ginny had.  Which meant the Whateley would have to come up with some collateral to match him.<br/><br/>     There was a long pause of hesitation from Ginny, her eyes still boring into him as she sought to read him.  Nothing.  She still could fold and back out.  Only she really couldn't.  Slowly, she fetched out her land deed and showed it.  <strong>"Ah'm puttin' this in the pot tah match yuh."</strong>  It went without saying that land property in Gomorra was really quite expensive.  Losing it wouldn't be easy to acquire back even as a Whateley.  Yet Ginny felt a strange type of peace, an odd sense of emboldened confidence that completely unjustified as she waited for "the River".<br/><br/>     And as she put it down, the Collector laughed.  And flipped his cards, showing off a pair of Aces.  The Ace of Diamonds and the Ace of Clubs.  <em><strong>"Easier than taking candy from a baby.  You'd better go home and cry to your Momma, girl.  Spend a bit more time on her teat and learn how to play.  Then, come back.  I'll be happy to take everything you own anytime."</strong></em>  And he continued to laugh long and hard as Ginny didn't bother responding.  Instead, her whole being was focused on the deck of cards.  Willing it for the final card she needed.  Her green eyes bored into the deck of cards as she waited for it be dealt on the table.<br/><br/>     Silently, the card spun and flipped up.  The King of Spades.  The black King stared up at her mutely as she looked at it and then the Collector who had stopped laughing.  Then, at the card again.  Not believing it herself, despite seeing it.  Then, she gave a dumbfounded shrug. <strong> "Huh.  Full House.  Well, whatdid yuh kno'?  Guess ah git a happy endin', after all."</strong><br/><br/>     There was a long, ugly pause before the Collector leaned in.  His face dark and his mouth set in an angry line. <em><strong> "I call cheating.  You had to be cheating.  Nobody has luck that amazing that their card comes up right when they need it."</strong></em>  His hand shot out over the table and gripped Ginny's right wrist tightly, almost painfully as she winced.  <em><strong>"Show me your sleeves.  I want your goddamned shirt off!  I bet you are hiding cards all over yourself!!!" </strong></em>His voice had now risen in pitch and tenor as it looked like things were going to get ugly.<br/><br/>    And things did as Ginny pulled back her arm sharply.  <strong>"Ah ain't showin' nothin'!  Yuh dun got no proof!"  </strong>Her own voice was surly as she stood from the table and moved away even as the Collector stood as well and then dragged her in again.   And then, it was on.  Back and forth, they wrestled, a pair of tangled bodies though both had the consciousness not to disturb the table laden with the winnings.  If that was knocked, then all hell would break loose and nothing would ever get resolved.<br/><br/>     Of course, the Collector was a man so he used his bigger frame to overwhelm the young Whateley, bending her right arm painfully.  <em><strong>"You're going to strip, missy."</strong></em>  Then, he used his free hand to slap her across the face even as she cried out.<br/><br/>     Suddenly, Sloane's men broke it up, getting on both of them and dragging them apart.  The Collector was dragged out of the room and Ginny was let go after a moment as she jerked her arms angrily away from them and then gently dabbed at her nose.  There was a bloody stream coming from it in a red river as she smeared it across her left sleeve.  A sleeve which somehow had been torn in the struggle as she looked at Deacon Sloane, who had come back to watch the private little game.<br/><br/>     <strong>"Ah think ah need a bit o'air,"</strong> Ginny said faintly, looking a bit pale.  <strong>"Kin ah sit down somewhere and catch my breath?"</strong>  A look to the other two players had them shrugging and then reluctantly agreeing unless Deacon Sloane said otherwise.  Obviously, they didn't want to stop but at the same time, it would be churlish not to grant a lady her request.  Of course, if Ginny was forced to keep playing, as shaken as she was, no doubt she'd be easy prey for the remaining men at the table.<br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div></div></div><br/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/Sloane5_zpsfbdee107.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Deacon Sloane<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>December 14th, 1875 (Approximately six months before game start)<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Casino Morongo<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Ginny (closed)<br/><hr/><br/>Money.<br/><br/>Cold, hard cash.<br/><br/>Deacon Sloane, once one of the most feared gunmen in the west, a bounty hunter of extreme reputation, who once existed for the hunt and the danger and the gut burning thrill of collecting a bounty, now lived for it. It was the only reason he had allowed Virginia Whateley to rent a table in the casino that he had established with the sum total of his accumulated wealth from a lifetime of chasing down men for varying amounts of reward. He tolerated her playing at running her fancy games because she had a pretty face and a nice ass underneath all her finery, and making nice with one of the Whateleys was good for business. Her table certainly brought in a tidy little profit, from which he took a generous cut. Consequently, when she’d approached him about hosting a sky high stakes poker game, he’d been willing to hear her out, and finally allowed himself to be won over to the idea.  Hell, the amount of money that would cross the felt that night was too damn high for him to even think about turning down, even if the girl did fall flat on her ass.  Tempers could always be soothed with whiskey and women.  There was very little pussy couldn’t solve. And so here they were.<br/><br/>Sloane had made all the arrangements.  A private room had been set up for the men that had come running at the hint of Whateley money, complete with all the necessary fineries and accessories that such a game demanded.  Rumors of the high stakes of the game had called out the biggest players this side of Chicago.  The three remaining men sitting at the table had come from as far away as Lost Angels, and had been bleeding money hand over fist all night long. Sloane was already counting up his cut in his head, and no doubt the men specially handpicked to provide security for the event were planning out how to spend their night’s bonus. And so far, Whateley was holding her own; but Sloane was beginning to wonder how long it would last.<br/><br/>Ginny had taken some serious losses over the course of the evening and had covered up the sting by drinking heavily.  Even now, as the Collector from Lost Angels won yet another hefty pot and verbally challenged the girl over her ability to run a ‘real’ game, she gulped down another shot of whiskey and admonished the man to see to himself in a thick, slurred, southern drawl. Sloane looked her over with a practiced eye, noting a genuine flicker of nervousness underneath her bravado before flicking his gaze towards his men.<em>Be on guard</em>, his eyes warned, as another hand was dealt and the pot began to grow again.<br/><br/>The cards were played and bets were made.  Before long, the pot in the center of the table had grown to gigantic proportions, and one of the players had pulled out.  Banter was growing more and more personal as the bets were called and raised as the tension grew, waiting for the final card.  The Collector, in particular, was taking Ginny to task, but Sloane felt no particular need to step in.  If she wanted to run a Big Game then she needed to learn how to take the heat.  Then the final card was turned, and things turned as ugly as a two bit whore.<br/><br/>The accusations of cheating leveled at Ginny made Sloane narrow his eyes at the Collector.  The girl might be more than a little high and mighty but as far as he could tell – and his eyes were good, with more than a little practice at his business – she was no cheat, and he was just about to say so, before deciding to pause for a spell and see how she handled the challenge.  Dark, hooded eyes slid towards her as the man demanded she take off her shirt.<br/><br/>Of course, she refused, in true Whateley form. Sloane’s gaze turned back to the Collector, who reached out to take her arm in an iron grip before slapping his hand across her face.<br/><br/>Even Sloane thought that was a little much.  Nodding to Yanko as they began to tussle over the table, his men swooped in to pull the two of them apart. But, not before Sloane caught a flash of sliver in the low light of the room.  It happened in the blink of an eye, and then his men were dragging the Collector out of the room under his watchful gaze, a carefully school expression of neutral tolerance pasted to his face as Ginny looked to him and quietly begged for a moment of reprieve.<br/><br/>Tearing his eyes away from the high stakes player as the door closed behind him, Sloane reached into his pocket to remove a handkerchief and crossed to Ginny’s side.  Taking her arm, he lead her off to the far corner of the room with a strong grip as he offered her the folded white cloth, stepping up close enough for her to feel the brush of his lightly stubbled cheek as he whispered firmly in her ear.<br/><br/>“You listen to me, girl,” Sloane began, pressing the handkerchief into her hand and lifting it to dab at her bloodied nose, giving him a chance to glance down at her arm in the process and confirm his suspicions about what he’d seen. “If you walk out of this room now you’ll never be taken seriously by anyone in Gomorra ever again.  Word about a thing like this travels faster than shit through a goose, and by sunup you’ll just be the pampered cunt that bit off more than she could chew, thought she could play with the grownups. Now, you pull yourself back together, get your ass back to that table and see this thing through, before you ruin my casino’s goddamn reputation.”<br/><br/>Taking a step back, Sloane wiped the last of the blood from Ginny’s face, glancing pointedly down at her arm before moving away and back towards the table, giving her a moment to compose herself before resuming the game.  “Bring Miss Whateley some water,” he said to the waitress standing by the buffet at the other end of the room.  “And make sure it’s cold.”  Once he had the cool glass in hand he turned around to face Ginny with the drink extended towards her.<br/><br/>“Miss Whateley, are you ready to continue the game?"<br/>