So now, where did i leave off? Ah yes, that's right, I was regaling you about how the kid grew up. Ever since than, the kid has been going by Kennen. Turns out he has some Talent, he can ken whats going on in a place a moment before he gets there. Helps him fierce in a gunfight, too.
Towns back to shape, shaping up real nice. Even hired a pianist, just got here from Alabama, or so he says. Calls himself Sahmuel Freeman. Now, I am not one to ask question, especially out here in the west, but I have seen manacle scars before and the crown states are not known to let many a freeman walk out. But I have said enough about that, and if Mule (ya didn't expect him to be called sam, now did ya?) tells me something, i have no reason to call it into question. Anyhow, he plays the piano like a charm and his voice is like a jaybirds.
A good portion of the towns health and welfare was a result of Marshall Evret. He was sent to retrieve Xavier, and when he found we had done the job but had no competent lawmen in town, he decided to sit a spell. Glad he did, truth be told. A few of the buildings in the town were cursed, and it takes a hex to cure a jinx, or so the saying goes.
Not more than a month after the last hassle, in walks Fierce Clem. Clem was a canadian, and it is rumored that his father was none other than the bear spirit. Seeing him in the doorway, I had a feeling the rumor was only half-wrong - it was probably his grandpa, not his pa, he had a look of France and of ten nations in him as well. Needless to say, he had a hefty Canadian bounty on his head. Something to do with kicking a Mounty off his horse and hightailing it south with a sack of gold. Probably no regrets neither.
Well, none of the pub's riff-raff wanted to mess with a folktale, and I run a bar so I could spit and have a dollar, so I figured I would hear his story. He walked up to the bar and sat down. he might have been lighter than he looked, because the bar stool didn't break, but that might have just been the stool. I buy solid equipment, never know when you will need to use it to slap a fellow around. So, he steps up to the counter and he asks me for a bourbon. While I am pouring it, he adds a question that catches me off guard. Evidently, Clem was on the prowl for Mr. Theodore M. Bellsmith. I knew Mr. Bellsmith, but wasn't quite sure if I wanted to answer. See, the M stood for Montana.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Friday, October 26, 2007
Clean up the debris
No time to write, still mucking beast blood out of the saloon. If it tweren't for that marshall showin' up when he did (with his now useless bounty for Xavier burns for 2-bit hedge magic and illegal summoning), we would probably all be halfway to some nightmare plane by now. We were lucky he arrived and doubly lucky he had brought along a revealing charm and a pendant made from a rattlesnake rattle. Course, would of been luckier if he had brought a full cadre. Ah well, can't win 'em all.
And, for better or worse, Montana and the kid both survived. The kids off in the corner, sipping an old fashioned (heavy on the rye) and he looks ten years older. Guess we will have to stop calling him the kid. Montana left town a day after we had gotten everything sorted out. Said he had some things to check up on. I dunno where he gets off to, but he always stumbles back into town a week later. He always stumbles in here and drinks until he can't see the pink elephants anymore, if you understand my meaning. A few of the girls usually manage to take him up to his room afterwards. But no one knows where he has been. Don't fancy asking myself. In his youth, Montana was reputed to wrestle buffalo and win.
And, for better or worse, Montana and the kid both survived. The kids off in the corner, sipping an old fashioned (heavy on the rye) and he looks ten years older. Guess we will have to stop calling him the kid. Montana left town a day after we had gotten everything sorted out. Said he had some things to check up on. I dunno where he gets off to, but he always stumbles back into town a week later. He always stumbles in here and drinks until he can't see the pink elephants anymore, if you understand my meaning. A few of the girls usually manage to take him up to his room afterwards. But no one knows where he has been. Don't fancy asking myself. In his youth, Montana was reputed to wrestle buffalo and win.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Eyes not open
I suppose I should have seen it coming. Ted wasn't the same after taking a swig of that foetid brine that Burns had been carrying. A minute after leaving the shed, he started to cough terribly. He got over, waving us off, only to start hacking again. We stopped and told him to sit down, and the kid handed him a bottle of clean water. Teddy took a swig of it and I could hear it catch in his throat. He began coughing again and hacked up several disturbingly pink gobs of phlegm, with a final, violently loud cough, he keeled over and began to go into tremors. The kid leaped on him to prevent his doing himself injury, but it was pointless. He gave a few more tremors before laying still.
I told the kid to stand aside and brush himself off. He was still spooked from what was in the shed and this mess wasn't helping. No help for it now.
As the three of us took stock and began to catch our breath, I noticed a most disturbing sight - Teddy's hand had begun to twitch again. I nudged Montana and he saw where my gaze was headed. The kid hadn't seen yet, for which i was glad. I calmly drew my portable gatling to a firing position and started to connect the first round off of one of the remaining belts. Montana checked his six shooter before shaking his head and holstering it. Instead, he drew out his coach gun and checked to make certain it was loaded before cocking the hammers.
As he drew the second hammer back, Teddy suddenly lurched to his feet. Montana was quick as a wink and discharged both rounds into the corpse, but the two new holes hardly seemed to slow the thing down, though I did glimpse what appeared to be a tentacle blasted out by the second shot. The creature lifted the rifle in its hand and took sight on Montana, but Montana was quick as a fox and managed to get into a tangle with it; course, it seemed to have the strength of two men and it started to give Montana a real hiding. The kid had whipped around at the roar from Montana's shotgun, and on seeing Teddy's body, perforated as it was, lift a gun to bear, he must have broke, cause he started to book it out of there. I gave him a shout to get back in the fray, but my mind was on Montana as I fumbled the latches of the Gatling shut. The thing had gotten both its hands around his throat and, gibbering wildly, was slowly choking the life from him.
As the kid ran, the creature must of seen him over Montana's shoulder. It must not have wanted to have to deal with any survivors, because it inexplicably released Montana from the stranglehold and shoved him aside, leveling Teddy's elephant gun on the kid. It was fortunate for us, because I was sure that a second or two more of that close in fighting would have convinced Montana that it was time to become closer to god. But we were lucky and Montana was still alive and awake. Montana managed to kick it in the back of the knee as I yelled a warning, and by one or both our actions the bullet only glanced the kid's shoulder as he dodged. Course, with an elephant gun, that was still enough to send him flying head over heels.
Anyhow, the creature, although clearly strong and tough enough to have been able to rip Montana and I apart in a fair fight, was at a slight disadvantage now. It spun around and pull the hammer back, but I well knew that there was no round in the chamber. The confused look on the creature's face as the hammer's click was not followed by the normal roar was enough to make me chuckle as I pulled the trigger on my now fully loaded Gatling. Where Montana's shotgun had put two fist sized sheets of gore into the creatures, my gun began to spit out shells the size of my thumb at the rate of 4 rounds per second. I fired for about ten seconds, turning the abdomen of Teddy's corpse from steak to mince-meat. A sickly purple fluid oozed from several of the wounds, and the scroll that had been with Xavier's body was in his belt. Ah, hell, we'll have to leave the body to the mortician. Now's the time to hunt down and banish the source of this taint. And I had a feeling that the scroll was the key to it.
I told the kid to stand aside and brush himself off. He was still spooked from what was in the shed and this mess wasn't helping. No help for it now.
As the three of us took stock and began to catch our breath, I noticed a most disturbing sight - Teddy's hand had begun to twitch again. I nudged Montana and he saw where my gaze was headed. The kid hadn't seen yet, for which i was glad. I calmly drew my portable gatling to a firing position and started to connect the first round off of one of the remaining belts. Montana checked his six shooter before shaking his head and holstering it. Instead, he drew out his coach gun and checked to make certain it was loaded before cocking the hammers.
As he drew the second hammer back, Teddy suddenly lurched to his feet. Montana was quick as a wink and discharged both rounds into the corpse, but the two new holes hardly seemed to slow the thing down, though I did glimpse what appeared to be a tentacle blasted out by the second shot. The creature lifted the rifle in its hand and took sight on Montana, but Montana was quick as a fox and managed to get into a tangle with it; course, it seemed to have the strength of two men and it started to give Montana a real hiding. The kid had whipped around at the roar from Montana's shotgun, and on seeing Teddy's body, perforated as it was, lift a gun to bear, he must have broke, cause he started to book it out of there. I gave him a shout to get back in the fray, but my mind was on Montana as I fumbled the latches of the Gatling shut. The thing had gotten both its hands around his throat and, gibbering wildly, was slowly choking the life from him.
As the kid ran, the creature must of seen him over Montana's shoulder. It must not have wanted to have to deal with any survivors, because it inexplicably released Montana from the stranglehold and shoved him aside, leveling Teddy's elephant gun on the kid. It was fortunate for us, because I was sure that a second or two more of that close in fighting would have convinced Montana that it was time to become closer to god. But we were lucky and Montana was still alive and awake. Montana managed to kick it in the back of the knee as I yelled a warning, and by one or both our actions the bullet only glanced the kid's shoulder as he dodged. Course, with an elephant gun, that was still enough to send him flying head over heels.
Anyhow, the creature, although clearly strong and tough enough to have been able to rip Montana and I apart in a fair fight, was at a slight disadvantage now. It spun around and pull the hammer back, but I well knew that there was no round in the chamber. The confused look on the creature's face as the hammer's click was not followed by the normal roar was enough to make me chuckle as I pulled the trigger on my now fully loaded Gatling. Where Montana's shotgun had put two fist sized sheets of gore into the creatures, my gun began to spit out shells the size of my thumb at the rate of 4 rounds per second. I fired for about ten seconds, turning the abdomen of Teddy's corpse from steak to mince-meat. A sickly purple fluid oozed from several of the wounds, and the scroll that had been with Xavier's body was in his belt. Ah, hell, we'll have to leave the body to the mortician. Now's the time to hunt down and banish the source of this taint. And I had a feeling that the scroll was the key to it.
The dark depths of despair
Well, the four of us - that is, Montana, Teddy, the kid, and me - found Burns. He was quite dead, and whatever had killed him had treated him like a rag doll. Montana had been part of the militia out west (in montana, see?) and had been involved with defense against some raids by the Sioux, led by a young chieftain. He is still out there in the shadows of the black hills, gathering a force that the cavalry will have to deal with, hear they are calling it Red Cloud's horde. Anyhow, even Montana was unnerved by the gristle that had been spattered about.
The kid started gibbering as soon as we walked into the tool shed. We hadn't found the body, but we could ken that something wasn't right from 10 yards away - the smell, y'see. It was a rank odor the likes of which you can not believe. I have smelled it before in an abattoir, something had chopped him open with no care for his guts, and they must of been split open.
We searched his body, and came up with a Smith-Wesson with four rounds remaining, a half-empty jug, and a scroll of strange glyphs written in a luminescent ink. Teddy jumped when he saw the jug and tilted it back, but the contents had been fouled and he sat there spitting for five minutes while the rest of us got to searching the cabin. Course, the kid wasn't much help, he was looking around with crazy eyes trying to catch sight of what did it.
I knew the look of a cold corpse when I saw it. Xavier hadn't been killed recently, which meant that whatever had done it was still loose. Unfortunately, I was running low on ammunition for my Portable Gatling, and I know that the elephant gun Teddy carried was down to its last nitro. Like I said before, burns had run off with my ammo earlier, so I gave the shed a thorough sweep, though I steered clear of Xavier's corpse and the scroll he had been holding. Fortune smiled on me, and I found the missing ammo. It had all been dumped into a trough of clean water. I gave it a whiff, just in case it smelled sulfurous, before fishing out a few boxes. Most of the rounds had been spoiled (or at least, needed a spot of drying), but a few belts had been left in an oiled bag and were still dry. I grabbed what I could before suggesting that we get ourselves clear of the shed. None of my comrades brooked any argument.
The kid started gibbering as soon as we walked into the tool shed. We hadn't found the body, but we could ken that something wasn't right from 10 yards away - the smell, y'see. It was a rank odor the likes of which you can not believe. I have smelled it before in an abattoir, something had chopped him open with no care for his guts, and they must of been split open.
We searched his body, and came up with a Smith-Wesson with four rounds remaining, a half-empty jug, and a scroll of strange glyphs written in a luminescent ink. Teddy jumped when he saw the jug and tilted it back, but the contents had been fouled and he sat there spitting for five minutes while the rest of us got to searching the cabin. Course, the kid wasn't much help, he was looking around with crazy eyes trying to catch sight of what did it.
I knew the look of a cold corpse when I saw it. Xavier hadn't been killed recently, which meant that whatever had done it was still loose. Unfortunately, I was running low on ammunition for my Portable Gatling, and I know that the elephant gun Teddy carried was down to its last nitro. Like I said before, burns had run off with my ammo earlier, so I gave the shed a thorough sweep, though I steered clear of Xavier's corpse and the scroll he had been holding. Fortune smiled on me, and I found the missing ammo. It had all been dumped into a trough of clean water. I gave it a whiff, just in case it smelled sulfurous, before fishing out a few boxes. Most of the rounds had been spoiled (or at least, needed a spot of drying), but a few belts had been left in an oiled bag and were still dry. I grabbed what I could before suggesting that we get ourselves clear of the shed. None of my comrades brooked any argument.
Monday, October 15, 2007
When the slumbering beasts wake, meet in the saloon
Well, it seems that the old ones have begun to stir once again. Grab your six shooters, boys, we might have a couple of tentacle beasts to take care of before morning, or we will be digested in old man cthulus belly for the next thousand millenia.
By the way, any of you gunslingers seen Xavier Burns , who runs the general shop? He was overheard muttering about the living flame earlier... and now hes run off with most of the ammo for my portable gatling! Gal durn it!
By the way, any of you gunslingers seen Xavier Burns , who runs the general shop? He was overheard muttering about the living flame earlier... and now hes run off with most of the ammo for my portable gatling! Gal durn it!
Cow pokes
gentleman, the cattle drives are coming into town. Every able bodied cow poke with two balls to his name had best hop on and give a hand.
If only there were fresh bounties
Sorry to lead you fellahs on, but I am just trying to maintain appearances. Ya'll know we haven't seen a marshal in town nigh on two months now. Yuss, was when the Pelham brothers gunned down Deputy Appel. The sheriff, his deputies and a pair of marshalls took off after them. Probably halfway to Mexico City by now.
So you scallywag bounty hunters, stop swilling up my whiskey, and go earn some cash, or I'll let Running Bison show you how the Sioux take bounties. And no, none of you are as fast on the draw as I am, so don't start anything you can't finish. Not like I am charging you for sitting.
So you scallywag bounty hunters, stop swilling up my whiskey, and go earn some cash, or I'll let Running Bison show you how the Sioux take bounties. And no, none of you are as fast on the draw as I am, so don't start anything you can't finish. Not like I am charging you for sitting.
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