As they arrived back in town, the sun was well on its way toward the horizon casting into the still-blue sky the first hints of what would eventually bloom into a warm orange and pink dusk. Up in the air, faint traces of the moon could be seen among the fragmented cloud cover above, and a warm breeze blew into the town of Oakley welcoming the two riders before the welcoming committee.

Upon spotting those that were returning, Wyatt Earp rode out a bit to join them at a steady trot that he brought to a walk as he pulled up along side them for the short length it would take them to get back to the town.

"What'd y'all find out there?" he asked. "Where are the others?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:33, Tue 28 Apr 2015.

"They are presumably on their way back.  We had no further business there, so returned ahead of them.  The farm was a trove of information, though how we should use it, I do not know.  We discovered Dr. Grint with some sort of shaman and an army of the walking dead.  She admitted that she and her co-conspirator were responsible for the recent attacks and acts of terror on these parts.  It seems her goal is to destroy both the united and confederate states because the portents have determined that they will commit great acts of war upon the earth in some unknown future."  She sighed.  "Unfortunately, she escaped before we could apprehend her."

Given recent events, Earp was predictably unfazed. "Well, there's an explanation of the problems the town was dealing with, as well as the solution for the problem. Pardon my language, but it sounds like that woman is bat shit crazy. If she managed to escape, I'm sure she'll crop up again somewhere. Well, we can't solve the world's problems, but we can deal with the here and now. As to how to use that information...I been around, you could say. I have friends that know some folks in the Texas Rangers. I can get it passed on to them. I suppose Marshal Morgan has some Union contacts he can pass this information onto."

"Now I guess all we have to deal with is an undead Bill Quantrill and some zombie bushwhackers from Sky Dog's dreams. I suspect it may all be a sham, that someone might be usin' Quantrill's name to scare folks up. It's a name to inspire fear, if ever there was one. But I seen enough folks rise from the dead that maybe it is him and he's doin' more of in death what he did while he was alive."

"I've got sentries posted all around town. I have some of the best shooters I know on this side of the Mississippi in this posse, and then you folk, who seem to have quite the knack for troubleshootin' as well. I think between us we should easily be able to put paid to Quantrill, or whoever is plannin' on makin' trouble for this town."

"Let's hope so," she commented.  "None of us know what will happen this evening, but I think we'll be prepared as we could possibly be.  From working for you and judging by your impressive reputation, I wager that you aren't a man easily spooked by unnatural things.  With Doctor Whateley here already aiding the townfolk, and displaying his brand of special talents, I think we can also safely say that they're ready to defend themselves by any means necessary and won't be frightened by having a little protective magic on their side.  A pity more of them aren't gifted, but I'm hoping our little group can bolster the ranks enough to make a difference." 

"I don't know that I can believe how accepting people here've been of..." He looked at Whateley pointedly.

"You know, all the stuff you do. Ain't the first time I've seen it, but I haven't seen folk take to it like this. I suppose if you've got deaders and other things attackin' you, anything that can help can help. I can see the reason in that. Then again, I can hear it can be dangerous too. If these folks aren't gifted enough, it may be even more likely that it's dangerous."

"The dangers don't quite change dramatically with skill, though those that have been at it longer can be safer about it. I don't think we will have much to worry on, not many have really taken this up here. I think their guns will be the most effective contribution from the locals here."

He nodded. "Well, that's just as well. Why don't y'all meet up in that old Church you were at earlier. Some of us are gonna meet up there in about an hour or so to go over the plan."

Coraline and Dr. Whateley arrived at the old church where they had met up previously, before the fateful trip to the ranch and their encounter with Dr. Grint, and spent the remaining hours of the day discussing the various principles by which they accessed their otherworldly abilities, with Whateley acting the role of an academic. He had a quick grasp of Hoyle's, and was able to help her locate some choice bits that he thought would round out her knowledge in certain areas.


When the sun had begun to dip below the horizon and the light was waning, the inside of the chapel was brightly lit by the sphere summoned by Whateley - the faerie fire as he called it. It was all rather peaceful until the gunshots started to ring out in the distance.

"I suppose that's our call to action," he said dryly, standing up and pulling out his wand.

Pleased that Abaddon had been able to help her through some of the trickier parts of the hex, she rose to join him, her waving her fan lazily in one hand.  The hex had been a complex one, but she'd managed to grasp the concept quite well -- at least in theory.  A more practical application was needed and, judging by the sounds of battle in the distance, she was going to have a chance to test her skill.  Though she thought it a pity she didn't have a shiny wand like the doctor.  She wondered if she could integrate a removable one into a fine walking stick.  Perhaps if they managed to live through the fight.

"I am ready if you are," she stated firmly, heading out of the church and into the night.  Her heart pounded against her chest as they made haste toward the sounds of gunfire and chaos.

As Coraline stepped out of the church building, things bad become considerably darker, but the weather was still warm as ever. Abbadon followed her quickly enough, though he took a moment to move and keep the globe of light moving along with them as he moved out of the building. By the time he stepped out the door, however, things of a sudden seemed to be a bit colder than they were. Towards the center of the town, a building seemed to be on fire. From a distance, it looked to be the General Store.

As Coraline and Whateley approached the scene, they came across Wyatt Earp, Daniel d'Alex, and Caleb Morgan who had converged on the location. The burning building on one side of the street lit their figures brightly. In the night from a distance gunfire continued to ring out.

"Doc, Miss Hawthorne," the Dodge City lawman greeted them as they approached.

"There's some kind of a brawl in the tavern here, and I expect it's like to be dangerous, and there's trouble going on across town as well. I've left the rest of the posse up on that side, but I want to go have a look as it hasn't seemed to die down. Marshal Morgan, I think you and this part of the posse take care of the tavern brawl. I'll head down and see what's going on down there where the gunfire is at and meet y'all up back here if it's handled." With that, he took off down the road.

Not long after he left, there was a gunshot from within the tavern, and the sound of a woman's scream, and a man's as well.

"No time like the present." Caleb nodded at Earp and then ran toward the tavern to see what had become of the brawl. Much of the time letting folk work off some steam didn't end up with anybody too badly hurt. But once guns were drawn in a crowded building, too much could go wrong.

Daniel followed closely on Caleb's heels, thinking that they shouldn't waste any time with pleasantries, given the situation.

"Goodness!" Coraline jerked at the sound of gunfire so close and swung her attention toward the saloon.  Lifting her skirt with one hand, she quickly followed the men into the tavern, fan nervously rapping at her thigh.

Darling arrives at the center of town in time to see Coraline and the others heading toward the saloon. Leaving his Gatling slung, he clears his coat behind his holstered revolver and follows after.

The inside of the saloon was cold, not usual in a summer day, though the temperature wasn't the strangest thing about the place. There was a palpable sense of tension in the room, a body on the floor, and blood was splattered about the room as Caleb opened the door he could see blood spattered about the room. Like a whipcrack, the man in the middle of the room turned around, interrupting his rant about killin' Yankees, a Colt Dragoon pointed at the door from one hand, his other hand holding a torch that flickered brightly even in an already decently lit room.

An ugly man in life, death hadn't done much to improve him. Rotted flesh hung off the side of his face, and he wasn't the only dead man walking in the room. Four more of them stood on all sides, each armed and ready for killin', though silent as the grave. There were several more ordinary civilians about of course, still alive and quivering with fear, some on the floor in the center of the room on their hands and knees, and some behind the bar, peeking over.

"OPEN FOR BUSINESS. SERVIN' YANKEES FOR DINNER!" the man roared at the top of his lungs as Caleb stood in the doorway, amusement loud in his voice as he fired off his gun at the lawman.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:54, Thu 11 June 2015.

"Avakhi!" Korpi warned from the top of the saloon, black against the darkening sky. Her brother looked up as the others piled in the front door and hung back a moment to glance through the window, trying to gauge the situation.

Both Siberians flinched as a shot rang out; Korpi left the gunplay to the iron devils and dropped down to the porch rail in a near-silent swoop of shadow to untie Clemya.

Quantrill.

Even as his reflexes took over to move him out of the monster’s line of fire, his mind struggled with the reality of it.

As Morgan had tracked each of the renegades he had hunted across the prairie, the thought had haunted him. Had this man had a hand in the massacre at Lawrence? Had he thrown the torch, or fired the shot that had taken his family from him? His need, his obsession, to see all of those that played a role in it brought to justice had fueled almost all of his adult life. He had completely abandoned those that cared for him and embraced the lonely life of a predator, all in the name of righting the scales. In so many ways, he knew, he had become every bit as terrible as those he pursued.

But here was the one who had masterminded the slaughter at Lawrence. The one who had given the order that had made him and Josiah orphans. Who now refused to surrender to the grave in the name of putting still more of the defenseless to death.

His back against the wall left of the saloon door, he felt the lingering rage he fought daily to control rise to the fore. His anger over all that he had surrendered, his hatred for those that murdered with impunity.

Quantrill had to be stopped. And Morgan believed he knew how to make certain. Perhaps now, that black night in Missouri would prove useful for something.

Those that he cared for, the friends that he had ridden alongside these last weeks, might well destroy him when it was over. And they would be right to do so. But he had to be sure that Quantrill fell.

His decision made, he returned his peacemaker to its holster. And he let go.

The moment he did, the pain manifested, the horrific sensation that his heart was going to rend itself free from his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes as his knees buckled and he fell, the agony of it overtaking him.

”Hold him,” he pled through clenched teeth, the last vestiges of his voice fading, ”Please, hold him here.”

"You want his heart, brother?" Sky Dog asked, a perplexed grin playing over his lips at the American's unwillingness to strip. "Ah, but he will not go past Dalix..."

Backing a step, Sky Dog threw a glance to Whateley and Hawthorn where they stood close together. "If you would act well for the people, there are ones on the floor that are needing a strong shield or to blind the eyes of their enemies," he told them, and loped off around the building to secure the back.

Daniel entered the fray at Caleb's heels, and called out to God for protection. "Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood!"

Daniel's sword was at the ready, and he looked at each of the unliving that they were faced with, sizing each of them up. He slid out of the doorway so the others could enter.

Sky Dog rounded the building and aimed for the darker patch he assumed to be a back door, running swift and low. A few paces later he was up to the door and grasping the handle, but the door refused to open. Sky Dog frowned and pushed it, shoulder to the wood, and found the resistance to be high up.

No metal clattered; the shaman leant back and shifted his knife in his hand. A wooden latch or thin bar. Well, that could be dealt with.

He moved to one of the shuttered windows that hung open looking in, and taking a step back from the window so he would be somewhat protected from random reaches from within, he brandished his wand, which seemed to be crackling with a violent black sparks. He whipped it back and with an expert flick of his wrist cast the wand forward towards one of the rotting, walking corpses he saw in the room. Tendrils of black lightning lashed out from his wand, shocking the deader where he stood.

Arriving at the saloon door, Darling shouts, "Get away or get to fighting!"

He swings his Gatling up on its sling and -- aiming high to avoid injuring the civilians -- fires a burst of slugs at the nearest deader, hitting it in the head.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:39, Thu 18 June 2015.

With reflexes that could only be called unholy, Quantrill tilted his head to one side as the man with the Gatling pistol let loose a hail of bullets on him, a bullet flying past his ear - a near miss. The move cost him though, with a second bullet piercing his lower gut. Unusually black blood welled up through his shirt, but if it at all seemed to bother him he showed no sign of it.

"Y'all Yankees got some nerve! Well, I always liked to have a little sport with anything I kill. I'll save yer women 'n chil'r'n for last!" He barked his sentence out with amusement, raising his gun and pointing it at Daniel's head, pulling back the trigger.
This message was last updated by the player at 21:21, Mon 22 June 2015.

Randolph grits his teeth and fires off another burst at Quantrill, chewing up the outlaw's arm.

Coraline had taken up a semi-protected position at one of the windows, having the distinct advantage that many of her hexes could fly through the wooden shutters to her intended target without deviating.  She gritted her teeth as she saw Daniel take a wound to his head and angrily reached into the beyond to wrestle a demon to do her bidding.  Ghostly cards appeared in her hand and she hissed at the results, releasing them with an irritated flick of her wrist.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:07, Fri 26 June 2015.

Spinning to turn his firearm on the man with the gatling that was peppering him with bullets he fired off a shot at Randolph with his Colt Dragoon, pointing the weapon towards the reporter's midsection.

Randolph feels the dead man's slug tear at his duster, but stands his ground and fires back!

The continued Gatling fire drawing his attention, Quantrill backed away at the overwhelming odds, pulling back against the back wall of the room, firing again at Darling.

Out beyond the saloon door, Korpi's black bird eyes took in the scene with far greater accuity than a human's gaze: she saw the hot shine of each bullet passing between Darling and the demon, each ticcing twitch of the muscles around Morgan's neck and skull, the tremor in his clawed fingers, shifts of the sawdust on the floor. Black blood soaking up and across the weave of cloth. The dull gleam of Daniel's sword and the tension folds of the shirt across his back.

The movement of cloth across his broad shoulders only made it clearer that he was wide open at the end of that fruitless downward stroke. If the demon's attention fell that way for an instant...

Korpi pushed off and threw her wings wide once through the doorframe, planing into a glide at the dead one's face.

"KORrrr."

Korpi banked before collision with a snap at the demon's hanging flesh, flying upward and away from Dalix and the demon both.

"Y'all take this fucker," he said, pointing towards Daniel.

The three of Quantrill's 'companions' that remained standing after one of their number had fallen turned their weapons on the swordsman at once and fired in succession.

Retreating from the storm of gunfire, Randolph steps back through the saloon door and shelters behind the heavy wooden wall. Time to re-load.

After calling upon God to ease any pain Daniel might feel, he moved toe-to-toe with one of Quantrill's friends and aimed a wicked slice at the dead fellow's head, which missed cleanly (though barely).

As the three of them returned fire, Daniel dodged and weaved between the bullets, though one grazed him enough to rip through his shirt and draw blood. After the blast he had already taken, the new wound barely registered. He left Quantrill for Caleb - they seemed to know each other. And distracting the rest of the dedders would allow the others to deal with Quantrill or help Daniel as they saw fit.

"I didn't say you could stop, did I?!" he bellowed at his dead companions who seemed none to pleased that their target seemed not much worse for wear after their most recent salvo against him. Then again, none of them had looked too pleased to begin with.

Keeping his body out of the line of fire from any nervous shotgun-wielding peasants on the other side, Sky Dog settled the skull of his bearskin over his own cranium and tucked it into his belt to get both hands free. Working swiftly but carefully as gunfire rattled inside the building, the shaman slid his blade between the door and frame, lifting the latch.

"Living ones! It would be well to run this way!"

He kicked the door open.

Sky Dog's words were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot aimed at him, that only just missed the Siberian. To his right and out of sight from the front door stood another one of the walking dead.

Meanwhile, Daniel faced another hail of bullets aimed at him from Quantrill's undead minions fired while the notorious killer and undead outlaw merely stood towards the back of the room watching the mayhem unfold.

Well enough was a enough!  Daniel was taking the brunt of the murderer's attacks, and Coraline was incensed.  He was a hardy man, but no one could survive long against a hail of bullets coming from all directions.  Twice she gambled and the second attempt paid off.  Pleased with the draw, she wrestled the manitou she'd caught into submission and gave him a task to complete: stop those bullets from finding their mark!  The hex wasn't the strongest, and wouldn't stop everything from hitting the bible-thumper, but she could give him a helping hand.

The beast woke. Immediately it was filled with fury.

The shell, the weak creature that the beast was forced to slumber within, had restrained it. Although it was free, not physically chained as it had so often found itself, the shell would not let it claim whatever prey it desired. Only those with the stench of death on them. Only the dead could taste its rage.

As it rose, it scented the air, finding those the shell sought. A growl filling its throat, it crouched, preparing to spring.

The shell was a fool. It could pretend to be a protector, a preserver of peace. But it was lie. This...this was what it truly was.

The beast burst through the window, launching itself at the first of the undead that it saw.

The beast's claws slashed at the chest and arms of the walking corpse that first was found in its path, slashing away rotted flesh and driving it back, away from the seemingly inescapable fury of the monster.

The beast tore at the dead man, rending his flesh. But he refused to fall. The beast roared in fury, redoubling its attacks against its prey.

Standing on the outside looking in, Whateley and Coraline were ideally poised to strike at their targets, and might have put paid to the walking corpses but for the capricious nature of their art. Sometimes you got a good hand, and sometimes you didn't, and that was that. The next hand he drew, however, was an enviable one at that. He grinned almost ferally as he tricked his little fairy into doing his bidding.

Drawing back his wand, he cast his spell, pointing directly at the head of one of the two deaders that were assaulting Daniel. A stream of nearly invisible ghostly white light let loose from his wand, swallowed up the head of that corpse, eating away at what was there. The body hit the floor soon after.

Sky Dog bared his teeth and rounded on the one shooting at him, charging up the stairs in a ragged rush of white fur, knife ready.

Whateley could feel himself on a roll. He had the devil's own luck, and at that moment it felt like he could get any cards he wanted. The twisting nether opened up to him, the faeries came to his call, offering him their power, and he couldn't help but take it.

Another zap from his wand sent white light blasting into the last remaining deader that threatened Daniel, incinerating the walking corpse into a pile of ash, its clothes and gun dropping to the floor with nothing left to hold them up.

"Fie on you, villain!" he called out as he trained his wand next on Quantrill, hoping to end the menace that had brought this situation about and fired again. Another powerful blast of light went straight for the villain's head....and went through him without causing any harm.

Quantrill grinned menacingly at Whateley. "Maybe I should take your limey ass out next!"

The corpse shifted slightly as Sky Dog's knife found a mark, but was neither thrown out of balance nor folded around the blow in pain. Sky Dog baited his breath rather than breathe in the stench, hoping the one/s stuck on his side of the bar would take advantage of the distraction to run.

Quantrill took a step back and seemed to disappear intothe wall.

The remaining civilians took that chance to sob sighs of relief. They wanted to flee the building, but now that the villain inside wasn't there anymore, they looked at each other uncertainly.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:58, Tue 14 July 2015.

With Quantrill beyond Daniel's ability to strike at him and part of the structure seemingly on fire, Daniel looked about to see if there was some sand available to douse the fire before it got out of control.

Calming his shaking hands, Randolph finishes reloading his Gatling.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:54, Sat 18 July 2015.

Straining against the Siberian's attack, it fired at him, but the shot went wild, barely even drawing blood from the pale little man.

Pulling his knife free, Sky Dog struggled to keep the dead man's arm from bringing the gun to bear. Beyond the painful ringing in his ears, the Siberian noticed a sudden lack of shots or the tearing of teeth.

"What happens?" he called to the front, trying to keep the undead from slamming him into the bannister.

Daniel looked for and discovered some sand behind the bar, and attempted to use it to douse the flames. However, his attempts didn't seem to do any good, so he turned his attention toward the remaining member of the animated corpses that had come with Quantrill. The barber aimed at the fellow's head, hoping to slice it in two.

The prey, the one the shell wanted dead, had somehow escaped. Slipped away as the other dead men fell.

Snarling, the beast charged through the doors of the building, its rage growing. It skidded to a halt as it reached the street, scenting the air for the smell of death.

Gatling re-loaded and ready for action, Darling risks a look around the edge of the doorframe.

A low, steady growl rose in the creature's throat as it found the scent of rot in the still air. Moving on all fours, it stalked across the street, its eyes scanning for any sign of the dead man.

The beast followed the scent it was tracking into a building with tall wide doors one of which hung open, only to be overwhelmed with the scent of death. The faint traces of the man within the beast, not completely overpowered by the wolf, seemed to dimly realize that he was in the building of an undertaker. There was a wagon piled high with what must be corpses. Various embalming agents, tools, and equipment sat on shelves that lined the walls or leaned directly up against the walls. A man stood against the back wall, white as a sheet. A lantern sat on a shelf, giving light to the room. He looked to be trembling and stunned into silence and at the sight of the giant werewolf entering his door, he fell to his knees, still shaking.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:47, Mon 27 July 2015.

The first thing the wolf saw when it cast its eyes up at the ceiling was Bill Quantrill's ugly face. He hung from the ceiling, suspended like a spider, dangling eerily by one hand flat against the ceiling. He wasn't gripping anything, but apparently sticking his hand to the ceiling was enough to do the trick. The next thing he saw was the barrel of Quantrill's Colt Dragoon aimed right at him, and firing.

Coraline was in a state of shock at the sight of Caleb's transformation.  While he'd shared his connection with wolves and she'd secretly guessed why the affinity existed, she never imagined how beastly the transformation would be.  She lost her ability to reason for a moment, too caught up in watching the gory scene as the wolfman ripped the walking corpses to shreds.  She half feared that he would turn on his friends, that he beast would not be able to tell friend from foe.  When he gave chase, loping after Quantrill, she breathed a sigh of relief.  Could he really sniff him out?  Coraline threw an uncertain look at the others, then to Caleb's form skulking through the darkness.  If he was going to face the focus of the town's terror, she wasn't going to let him do it alone.

With one hand grabbing a handful of her skirt, she pushed away from the building in a rush and hurried out into the street.  While she had no hope of keeping pace with the wolf, she hoped she could at least follow.

The beast managed to move just as it was fired upon, lunging onto the wagon filled with corpses. It roared, the primal sound filling the building, as it tore at its undead enemy, seeking to pull the dead man down to the floor.

Quantrill swung away as the werewolf came for him, using the momentum he had gained from his motion swinging by the arm attached to the roof to narrowly avoid the claw that had swiped at him, threatening to pull him down from his perch.

A dark whisper of motion sailed over the hurrying huckster.

"Cora!" Korpi called, pausing a moment atop the open door to bob urgency, then launched herself in, following Morganwolf's strangely deformed self and shadow.

A cry startled from her beak to find the man-avakhi on her level and swinging out of the reach of fangs whilst Morgan leapt.

"Ka!"

Swooping away from the action, Korpi snatched the lantern from its nook and continued in an arc. A couple of hard wingbeats brought her up around the dead man's back. Let Fire deal with the demon.

Korpi let go of the lantern handle with one foot at the instant of landing, turning and hauling it up against the once-man's collar as she found balance. The pale flame still danced its ancient dance within its little globe of glass. Now, how to get Fire onto the demon?

Sky Dog jerked away from the sudden heavy swing of steel over his shoulder, twisting to avoid the worst of the splatter from Daniel's strike. He blinked.

"This one was upstairs, I think," he told the swordsman, shunting the corpse aside with his foot and proceeding upwards with light-footed caution. The shaman's nostrils flared at the scent of the smoke beginning to well from the main room and he glanced back, then took in the streaming bullet graze to Daniel's temple and hastened up in search of blankets and bandaging-cloth.

Quantrill laughed as the bird brought him just what he needed. The sound of his voice seemed to resonate arrogance, hatred, and glee in equal parts. It was a twisted sound, and it cut through the night like a knife. As if on his command, the flame in the lantern seemed to get excited, slithering in between the small space between glass and metal on the lantern. Once it was out, he blew on it and a gust of flame shot towards the werewolf.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Thu 06 Aug 2015.

Daniel opened his mouth as if to protest Sky Dog's plan to proceed to a place that was likely to be engulfed in flame soon, but shut it and followed the shaman to the second floor. Surely they had time to find things before the fire was licking at their boots.

Whateley rushed over to the other building, following Coraline and the trail of the beast, whose transformation he had witnessed with awe and curiosity. Looking at the scene, the werewolf atop a wagon full of corpses, and Quantrill hanging from the ceiling like a spider, he raised his wand and pointed it at the undead butcher and shouted something at it in a strange language.

[Language unknown: "Ar ichearthe ssun aies laofio!"]

"AHHH!" It wasn't pain, but pure irritation and annoyance as the bird came for his eye. He didn't have time to think about or react to the thing that was trying to force him to sleep, swatting uselessly at the bird.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:28, Wed 12 Aug 2015.

Undeterred by his failure, Whateley cast again with his wand and shouted his incantation, more exasperation in his voice as he failed yet again.

Unable to tell wood from open space in the dim upstairs corridor, Sky Dog nearly brained himself on the first room's doorframe.

"fir poles..." The shaman rubbed his head under the bear teeth and grinned ruefully. "Are any here?" he addressed the upstairs in general, seeing as the thud would likely have signalled his presence to any hostile parties.

The creature recoiled briefly as the flames shot toward it, wary of the tricks the dead man possessed. It snarled at him, lashing out at a second time, seeking once more to pull him to the floor.

Korpi flapped for balance whilst Quantrill flailed, the lantern in her claw knocking against the demon's face as she sought a better grip on his hair. She ducked and snapped at the long-dead hand as it came close then darted her beak down viciously at the man-avakhi's uninjured eye, seeking to pull and rupture and spill his sight, hackles raised.

The outlaw writhed and cried out at the attack on his eye, shutting his eye and twisting around so that the bird only scratched uselessly at his face. "GODDAMN BIRD!"

Snapping the loaded cylinder into place, Randolph scrutinizes the street and spots Coraline heading toward a building a couple of doors down. He hurries after her.

"Whateley!  Soul blast?" she called to the fellow hexslinger.  She wasn't certain what hex he'd been attempting, but she was almost certain he'd tried to blast Quantrill earlier.  She wasn't sure this creature even had a soul to injure.

"On three," he agreed, nodding at her selection and indicating that they should time their attacks to strike as one. "One, two, THREE!" He flicked back his wand and stabbed it in the air towards Quantrill.

Cora gave a nod and gambled with her soul once again against the foul creatures of the otherworld. While she wrangled one into submission, she hissed at how weak the creature seemed to be.  Nevertheless, she let her attack fly at the same time as Abaddon's, streaking toward Quantrill with ghostly white light.

Turning his head towards the rotten little bird that had been trying to claw his eyes out, he growled, "I'm gonna eat you later!" and blew a tremendous gout of flame towards it this time, a cloud of fire seeming to engulf the raven.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:45, Mon 24 Aug 2015.

Having found several empty rooms on the upper floor, Daniel briefly thanked God that everyone was safe and then moved to quickly secure as many fire-fighting implements as he could find and secure. He snatched a bedsheet and quickly cut pieces for Sky Dog and Daniel to use as a deterrent to the smoke finding a way into their lungs. He then snatched some blankets and tossed some of them at Sky Dog before wrapping a couple around his neck and hoisting as much sand as he could find and/or carry.

Bandanna already pulled up over his nose, Sky Dog grabbed those blankets that flew towards him and wound the sheet-strip around his arm before running-vaulting-standing downstairs ready for Daniel to chain buckets to. "People here! We have brought the sand from above!" he called to those in the main room.

Anyone responding would get a sand bucket and/or a heaped blanket to throw over the flames.

---

Meanwhile Korpi rose up from Quantrill's head like a blown cinder as he turned and breathed fire at her. The lantern fell, abandoned, as heat washed up from below.

"KA!"

---

"AA!" The cry torn from Sky Dog's throat was hoarse and startled as he flinched back, hitting the side of the stairs.

---

Away...

Singed in the sear of flame, the sparks trailing from her feathers, Korpi banked a sharp turn out of the winch setting into the night. Cool air greeted her; hitting the roof the bird slid down into the gutter. Consciousness faded with the heat.

---

The big, ugly knife scrabbled against the wood of the stairs as Sky Dog pushed away and loped into the bar room, frantic.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:22, Tue 25 Aug 2015.

Sky Dog came down yelling into an empty room, the patrons of the establishment having left the burning building as soon as they could. Despite the open door and windows, there was a significant amount of smoke in the room, and it continued to crawl up the wall it had started on.

For a shattered moment, Sky Dog just stared from the empty room to the fire on the brink of getting out of control to the idly-swinging door. Whatever had happened to Korpi left an ache and a tremor in his fingers. Yet...

"They have run away! The wall it is not bad yet, and the floors are well," he reported back to Daniel, voice pitched rather than raised though it strained at the end with the urge to cough.

Throwing the woollen blankets down and setting his knife on the bar, Sky Dog donned his goggles and rolled a handful of bar nuts between his palms before crouching to the corpse of the patron shot down by Quantrill. "Not here? Ah, good..." Salt sained the dead eyes and mouth and the line from throat to heart, a half-choked murmur of prayer laid down in warding the dead flesh.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:45, Wed 26 Aug 2015.

It was accustomed to hunting alone. To stalking its prey without aid. Yet, dimly, the beast understood that those that were attacking the dead man were those that the shell, its weaker half, considered friends. They were those that the creature was constrained from harming.

A moment after the dead man attacked the raven with a burst of flame, the beast lunged toward him with a furious roar, its claws seeking to rend his flesh, to tear him from his place of safety.

The last attack of the Werewolf was too much for Quantrill to hear. Struggle as he might, Caleb ripped the villain's head from his body, slashed open his guts, and the headless corpse remained hanging from the ceiling - a macabre spectacle as any - only a few moments more before it collapsed to the ground in a messy heap, smothering the small fire that was building up from the dropped lantern.

"Good Lord," Coraline whispered as she watched Caleb's beastly side rip into the undead Quantrill.  She took an involuntary step backward, one hand pressed to her stomach, eyes wide as she surveyed the scene.  Her eyes flitted to Abaddon uncertainly.  Had he ever seen anything so ghastly?  She half expected the beast to turn on them next.

God.  The bird. 

Remembering Korpi, she took a step back from the building and turned her gaze upward, searching for where she'd seen the blaze of black feathers and cinder land.  Swearing under her breath, she hiked up her skirt and ran to the side of the building, climbing the rain barrel and standing on her tiptoes to get a look into the gutters.

"Whateley!  Come give me a leg up.  This bird isn't moving."

Even as the beast nudged the fallen body with its snout, it felt confusion. The crushing of its foe was a triumph, but it recognized that for the shell, its other self, it was an occasion of grief, an acknowledgment of all that had been lost, all that had been given up to pursue the dead man and his kind. The sadness, the understanding that the dead man's extermination could not fully balance the scales of the destruction he had caused, usurped the creature's base feelings of victory.

Raising its head, it let out a howl. A low sound of terrible mourning.

None were impeding it. The two that had joined it in battle were tending to the wounded bird.

It turned and dashed through the entrance to the building, its powerful muscles carrying it through the dark streets of the town with all of the speed it could muster.

It raced for the only shelter it knew. The open prairie.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:46, Thu 27 Aug 2015.

He looked at Coraline with pursed lips, observing her reaction to what happened. She certainly seemed to have held up well. Extraordinarily so. He followed her, doing as instructed.

"I suppose the Siberian will be quite upset. I can help the bird after a fashion, though I fear he will only curse me for it, utter some superstitious drivel about devilry and the like, and start sprinkling salt everywhere," he said, and then released a heavy sigh.

He brought his wand in the direction of the bird, and tapped it on the beak, pulling it quickly away as air and life seemed to find its way back into the bird and the little creature regained consciousness.

"You have interesting friends. I saw the Marshal turn into a werewolf," he said to Coraline.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:02, Thu 27 Aug 2015.

The sounds of gunfire in the distance had receded some minutes ago, and a group of men came down the street, Wyatt Earp at their head. Behind was a ragged looking company. Bat Masterson, John Collins, "Texas" Jack Vermillion, and Vernon Price. Absent was Charlie Bassett.

Looking at the burning building, he quickly issued orders to those among them, as they started fanning out looking for sand or water. Texas Jack, Bat Masterson, and John Collins returned from somewhere carrying a trough.

Vernon Price opened his backpack and started fiddling with a device he had on him. He placed a contraption, attached to a tube and a strange sort of nozzle, into the trough while the others were looking for buckets.

He flipped at switch on the device in the trough, which started a bizarre, almost wailing sort of a hum, and pointed the nozzle towards the flaming wall, water started to spray out of it. He started at the top, effectively dousing the flames that had gotten the furthest away from them with water and extinguishing that part of the fire, continuing to spray at it.

No reaction had followed when Cora had managed to reach a wingtip and pull the limp form towards her; heat and the fast thud of her heart were all that proved the raven was still alive when Cora gathered in her wings and stepped down from the barrel with her. Perhaps surprisingly for something about the size of a human infant, her weight was less than that of a bag of flour.

The burnt bird stirred in Cora's arms at being tapped, and blearily tried to bite the stick some crazy iron devil was waving in her face. "..nrrk..."

Sky Dog came jogging out of the burning - and now decidedly smokier - saloon down the street, having checked Daniel was not being overwhelmed as he came downstairs.

"Korpi!" he called, hauling his goggles onto his head to squint at the saloon roof. Getting no reply, he loped for the nearest group of people, his pale skin smoke-smudged and ghostly in the gloom. "Pri- Ah! Darling! Have you seen my sister?!"

The dark shape hurtling from the open door almost bowled Darling over and he stumbled a step or two to keep his balance. Glancing inside he could make out the huddled shape on the floor.

Then he saw Whateley help Cora down from an upturned barrel, cradling something dark against her chest. A hand grasped his arm.


Mutely, Randolph gestured toward Cora's burden.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Fri 28 Aug 2015.

Daniel's efforts to eliminate the flames from the building were interrupted by some quite welcome additional efforts which included flying water. Of course between the water and Daniel's use of the sand he had found, the injured barber was soon coated in some combination of mud, soot, and water.

When Daniel emerged from the now-smoldering building, he looked quite the mess. Blood mixed with soot, water, and dirt would have made for a humorous sight if not for the gravity of the situation they had all so recently survived. The arrival of Wyatt Earp and his fellows brought a smile to Daniel's face - the cavalry had arrived and were welcome to take over. The lack of Charlie Basset quickly turned the mud-caked barber's face inquisitive. "It sure is good ta see ya'all. Where's Charlie?"

Sky Dog bolted over to Cora without another word. Though the low light made it hard for the shaman to see the damage, the reek of charred feathers spoke for itself. Sky Dog hissed through his teeth.

"What kind of burning did this? An exploding?" he asked Cora, pale with worry.

Korpi tried to turn herself over but failed, feebly extending a claw towards her brother. Sky Dog gave her a finger to hold, wincing at the wet feel of tissue fluid from blistered flesh when she gripped it.

Coraline cradled the bird in one arm, surprised at how light the creature felt.  Hollow bones, she thought.  Being exceptionally careful while Abaddon worked his hex, she watched the magic, admiring the flourish he added to her work.  Where had he learned?  Who had trained him?  What other hexes are up his sleeve?  Privately, she thought he might have a thing or two that he could teach her.

Glancing back to the bird as Korpi fluttered with a bit more life, she breathed a sign of relief.  "Yes, they are quite a diverse group.  Caleb... was something of a surprise.  I knew he had a familiarity with wolves, but to that extent?"  She shook her head.  "It was shocking.  How tortured he must be.  But, I suppose we are all in some way."

Her gaze flitted to Sky Dog when he arrived and she frowned.  "Fire, actually.  A fire she dropped on the evil man that he used to blow back in her face.  He nearly killed her.  She's lucky to be alive."  Her scowl deepened.  "You really need to have a serious conversation with your bird about flying into danger."

"Dropped?" Sky Dog tried to work this out. "Oil, alcohol, dropped? Not tar..." seeing as the iron devils would probably stand around and list every probability, Sky Dog crouched a bit to lick the edge of a damaged wingfeather for expediency. "Ech, some lamp oil, mostly the sorcery - Dalix! I will need your good sword here, if it has cooled," he called across to Daniel.

Hawthorne's criticisim did not draw his attention from assessing the bird's condition, though he did acknowledge it: "I had asked her to stay on the roof, away from the demon: she must have believed a friend was in danger." The pale eyes met Cora's, not quite asking if she would stay away, had her brother requested it. "Is Morgan injured? I heard he was wailing as I came here..."

"I believe the good Marshal has seen that he needed to take a break from all of this. We will see him when we see him. He seemed rather unhurt, I do say, though he may need a new change of clothes when all is said and done," he said.

"In truth, I don't know how much of this town Quantrill would have managed to set on fire, and how long it would've taken us to stop him if not for Marshal Morgan's...contribution to the endeavor. We were lucky to have had him along."

"Charlie'll be fine," he said with a smile. "He took a bullet, but Doc Mansfield is gettin' that sucker out of him. Gabby and Clementine stayed with for good company."

"I was gonna ask where y'all were at, but looks like you had some trouble of your own here, which I'm sure you'll tell us about in due course. From what I can tell, we fended off a buncha dead men in black uniforms. Strange thing, they weren't wearing any boots. Anyway, they came at us like crazed soldiers."

"Price lit 'em up with that fire spoutin' thing he's got."

"Yes, Mr. Price does well with his gizmos. An old friend of mine - I don't know if y'all have gotten the chance to meet," he said to Daniel, pointing at the man who was pumping water from the trough to extinguish the fire.

"He works from Hellstromme now, but back in the day Charles Chrisman hired us to transport supplies to the railhead out in Iowa. That's where I learned boxing and gambling," he said, throwing a few playful, fake jabs into the air that looked real enough.

"Sky Dog, I believe you will want to bring the barber. I believe he can tend to her ailments by calling upon the Divine Will," he said.

"Perhaps God will see to it in his wisdom to heal the injuries of a brave bird which was trying to do good."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:10, Fri 28 Aug 2015.

Daniel nodded at the responses from Wyatt Earp and his fellows, glad to hear Charlie would be well enough. "Nice ya showed up when ya did. I'll look in on Doc'n'Charlie in a minute, in case doc needs a hand. Glad ta hear ya got on well nuff, but I gotta see ta one of my friends."

He had heard the cry of Dalix, and moved swiftly toward Sky Dog after excusing himself from Wyatt posse's. As he focused on the gathered group, it appeared from a distance as if everyone was focusing on Cora's chest. He thought to himself that with the shortage of perfect breasts in the world it would be a shame if Cora's had been damaged.

As he approached, he noted that it was not Cora that had been hurt, but rather it was "Korpi!?" Daniel wiped away some of the grime and swiftly took the last few steps over to where the bird seemed to be conscious but burnt. "What happened?" Daniel furrowed his brow as he looked closely at the young woman in bird form, a frown shaping his mouth. His surgical skills probably wouldn't be terribly useful in this situation but the Lord could provide. He reached under his collar and pulled out a crucifix that hung at the end of a golden chain. He briefly waited to hear what had occurred before calling forth the power of God.

"Bring to where?" Sky Dog asked, beckoning that very man. "My thought was to go to the dentist's house, where there is boiled water with silver...so to mend Dalix and have good light to help my sister also..." he switched to Evenki to throw the charred corvid a question.

Korpi made a noise that though inarticulate conveyed she didn't have much of an option when it came to listening to criticism: "rngk."

"-after, I will see if any others are wounded or more dead ones come here, then go to find Morgan and give him pants and criticisim...it is said." He looked over at Cora, clearly already tired but preparing for a long night of work. To the arrival of Dalix, he replied: "I think she tried to pour oil on Quanterill but the demon ate it or cut into the world so that he could throw the fire on her; it would be well to set your good iron against her body to take away the marks of the demon's onnir across hers." He swallowed.

"Ah, Hawthorn, I do not think we will have time talk about the things tonight...but if you want I will make you breakfast."

Whateley stepped in before the Siberian could mangle the story with primitive superstitions and incomplete English. "The bird carried a lantern up to where Quantrill was perched atop the ceiling, using some kind of spider-like magic. Quantrill then used the flame in the lantern somehow to blow a huge gust of fire that encompassed the bird and all around it. This was before the Marshal decapitated Quantrill, of course."

"Fire. Encompassing the bird - damnation."

Daniel lifted the crucifix hanging by a chain off his neck and placed it against the worst of Korpi's burns. He hummed for a moment, and then raised his voice in prayer.

"And the Lord declared, No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed, and you shall confute every tongue that rises against you in judgment. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord and their vindication from me. Be healed, Korpi! Like the bird of legend, rise and be radiant and renewed as the Phoenix!"

Daniel winced as the pain that Korpi felt was momentarily transferred to his body. His skin became cracked and charred as if he were being burnt alive, but just as it seemed to become more than he could bear, the charring disappeared. Wounds that he had already taken remained, but those that Korpi bore closed and healed as if they had never been.

Daniel looked at Korpi in her eyes. "You will still be sore for an hour. Best to ride on a shoulder or head for a bit rather than taking wing. But you'll be fine."

The barber replaced the chain and crucifix, sliding the latter under his shirt next to his heart.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:58, Fri 28 Aug 2015.

Randolph murmurs a fervent "Amen."

Sky Dog carefully took his hands from his temples with a shudder when Daniel had finished, pale and uncertain.

Korpi, for her part, was mostly curious about the shiny chain, very gently beak-catching and touching Dalix's fingertips with her dry bird tongue before he took them - and the shiny - away.

"Spath'ba," she said, and roll-flailed out of Cora's grip. Sky Dog caught her more by instinct than intent and held her lightly under one arm like a chicken until he'd pushed the bearskin back far enough to install her in his hood.

"She...we thank you," Sky Dog said, finally putting away his knife and looking at Daniel, head tilted. "It would be well to wash your wound, I think."

Daniel was pleased that Korpi appeared to be well, though wished she would take it easy. Patients rarely had patience, though. He smiled at her movements and the thanks, then looked down at the mess he was. "Prolly oughta take a bath, or jump in the trough if there ain't nuthin' better. Then we can get to the stichin' and compressin'." He rubbed his belly where he had taken a bullet from one of Quantrill's buddies. The metal would have to be removed as well. It would leave another scar that would make his father proud.

Daniel looked about to see if there might be anyplace to wash himself in a decent and/or modest way.

OOC: Barring that, Price could probably just hose him down...

Coraline wasn't certain what Daniel was going to do to 'heal' the bird, but she wasn't going to doubt the man.  She wrangled demons on a daily basis.  Why not a man with a divine connection?  She'd seen much stranger things.

Holding still, she glanced between the healer and the patient, blinking as she saw the transformation take place.  Astonishing!  She took special note of how Daniel seemed to absorb the creature's wounds before they disappeared completely.  Her arms opened as the bird wriggled free and she dusted off her hands.  Glancing down, she plucked a charred feather from her dress and twirled it in her fingers before letting it spiral down to the dirt.

"Well, now that was interesting."  She gave Daniel a very long look before turning her attention back to Sky Dog.  "You take care of that bird.  I'll go see about Caleb.  There will be no criticizing from you, tonight.  He saved all of us from that monster and has gone through quite enough already."

Sky Dog nodded Daniel at the nearby waterbutt. "That is a water-barrel, I think, but I was thinking that the dentist has boiled water for the patients there, which is better than raw water."

The shaman frowned deeply at Cora's plan to hunt the beast. Did she seek to shame him without balance, looking on him naked at his worst? "I had thought he was just a wolf pretending to be a man, but rabies...he has put all of us in danger, and the people." Sky Dog gestured at the town.

"It is good luck only that none of us shared the food, or the lady that hit him in the street was not very glad to see him, with kisses on the mouth; good luck that he has not been injured to bleeding that one has needed to touch his blood and without knowing get the rabies. It passes easily, the wolf disease." Sky Dog's words were rapid with emotion. "If one does not know, and has a fit, that one will eat their friend, their brother, their own children...that Morgan moves like he has the clear thought, it is years he has had the disease; he is at fault not to tell us. It is not a thing to keep hidden from those that travel with you, the wolf disease!"

'That bird' seemed quite content to stay in her brother's hood like an Inuit baby for now, though she watched the squabbling with interest. Aside from the vague sting across her flesh, she felt she could do with some parched corn right now.

"Don't be ridiculous.  That isn't a disease.  It isn't rabies.  It is undoubtedly a curse of some sort.  And one that he is obviously able to control, else we would have all had our throats ripped out." She let out a long breath, too weary to get worked up over his ignorant assumptions.

Quietly and calmly, she continued, "We keep secrets because we fear how other people might react to them.  People like you.  Caleb doesn't need your criticism.  He needs your support.  Our support.  It can't be easy carrying such a monstrous burden.

"So if you want to rail at him about putting you in danger, do it tomorrow.  Or preferably, not at all.  We've all endured quite enough tonight."

Sky Dog gave a shrugging gesture. "When I have seen this before, it acts as a disease...the fits, they happen when the deformed wolf-nature is fighting what the animal was before. For a man, it drives him to become a cannibal, for a dog, it becomes deformed like the wolf-spirit and crazy; prey-creatures it kills because their nature is too far, yes?"

"If you will come with me to the dentist's house also, and look on the men there, they have this more strongly than Morgan. Those that are not dead I will try to cure tommorrow - will you help me, Dalix?" he looked over at the barber. "I have need of a helper in the middle world for this."

The albino smirked suddenly at the idea of being able to hide one's freakishness for fear of reaction, but was serious the next instant, still speaking swiftly. "This is supporting: to give him time to be sad, to bring him clothing and yes to tell him he must amend himself."

He gestured out at the dark beyond the firelit street. "If he goes on as he is, he will become alone and die, either as the wolf nature is forced again and again into conflict with his first self and tears his spirit apart, or when he gives the disease to another and the people believe he is a cannibal also. Many deaths for this civilised lying. What for? To act like he is one alone, an outside creature without responsability to the people, one that can be no better...it is to give him to the wolf." Sky Dog gave Cora an empty-handed gesture, watching her face.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:55, Sat 29 Aug 2015.

Cora just looked tired.  Tired of fighting, tired of arguing, and tired of having to repeat herself.  "Yes, yes, and you can tell him all of that and more... tomorrow.  Go help some people, season some corpses, or whatever makes you feel useful and wanted.  Tonight is not the time for you to push your views on others and criticize their decisions."  She glanced at Abaddon with a look that clearly said 'see what I have to put up with'.  "Doctor Whateley, I would like to talk to you for a moment.  Would you mind taking a walk with me?" 

The shaman dipped his head to this critisism as though it had been offered in honest exchange, if clearly confused as to whether Cora was joking or badly damaged in her outlook. He translated relevant details in response to a croak from Korpi, then scrubbed a hand over his face and addressed the reporter.

"...Darling, a last thing here - do you know if Morgan took the demon's heart?"

In reply to Sky Dog (msg # 111):

Darling lsitens to the interchange between Coraline and the Siberian. He agrees with the hexslinger that Caleb needs understanding tonight, though the shaman has a point, too -- he'll need clothes when he reverts to his human form, presuming he does revert.

The question brings him out of his reverie. Randolph shakes his head: "I couldn't say, Sky Dog. I got here just as he was running out, I'll help you examine the corpse, if you like."

Sky Dog bit his lip and looked over at his equally smoke-smudged friend. "Ah...are you still bleeding, Dalix?"

Daniel nodded in agreement with Cora's wisdom concerning Caleb. He looked at Sky Dog and added, "Not only ever'thin she said, but ya'd be wastin' yer breath now. I suspect ya gotta let him cool down a bit. Ya wanna talk ta him when he's rational. An' I'll be happy ta be parta that conversation."

He looked down at the gash in his leg and the wound in his stomach. He felt for where flesh and hair above his left ear had been torn, hair matted down by dried blood. "Yeah, still bleedin' a bit. I can try ta patch it up, but if ya know how ta take care of it, I'd sure appreciate it."

The shrug-gesture was repeated. "It is time, whilst I attend to the people and finding of clothing, maybe cooking also...it would be well to take him a potato, I think, as he will be very hungry from the fit and changing his shape. It is hard for a wolf to eat a potato!" Sky Dog pulled his bandanna entirely across his skull and corraled his hair with it in anticipation of delicate work.

"...but it should be soon and not tommorrow, or he may be thinking 'because I lied to them like a civilised person, I have scared them to see that I have rabies; so they do not come...so I shall go away into the wilderness' -and with the fit, yes, he may become lost. Lost and naked, unless he keeps his fur-skin on him, and with it the wolf-thinking that is corrupted...it is a bad choice for living, no?"

"I think maybe Hawthorn thinks I would criticise him with bad temper, as I spoke to her when she did insult my work and the long ways of my people to my face...ha! The hungry little ones that hunt her are pleased, for that, but no: I would give him two knowledges - stories, yes? - and give him to know he had acted badly. So," Sky Dog pronounced, looking Daniel over and frowning.

"Korpi-" some back-and forth followed, Korpi's greater ranger of vision aiding the assessment before the shaman recommenced talking to Darling, throwing him a twist of salt: "I think I should tend to Dalix first, as he has many holes in himself, but it would be well if you would see that Quanterill's head and heart are destroyed, so that the demon has no more, ah, holding, to this world, that he can come back to torment the people. Perhaps Wyatterp will help also," he nodded that way, unwinding the strip of sheet from his hand.

"Dalix, do we go to the dentist - there is better for mending there."

Whateley quietly nodded at Coraline's request, and went off for a walk with her.

Earp separated himself from the rest of the group, that seemed for the moment to be working successfully to extinguish the general store fire and prevent it from spreading.

He approached Daniel, Sky Dog, and Darling in the undertaker's place, and looked at the decapitated body. "So...what happened over here?"

Daniel nodded at Sky Dog's suggestion. "The dentist or barber. Barber'd prolly have watcha need too. An keep Korpi close an not flyin' too much fer the next hour or so. She may look good, but she's weaker'n she thinks right now."

In reply to Wyatt Earp (msg # 117):

"Well, Mr. Earp, a band of courageous volunteers engaged an outlaw calling himself Quantrill and his desperate band in the saloon there. They finished off his followers. When the arch-fiend himself tried to flee, they pursued and put a finish to the name that terrorized Kansas.

"That's certainly the way I'll write it for my publisher back East."

"That sounds like a good way to write it in a newspaper," he said, looking over at the body.

"I'm guessing there's part of that story that won't be making it into publication. Long as Quantrill's dead, that's all I need to know. Sounds like we can get things wrapped up and head back to Dodge soon."

He scratched his chin for a moment, and ran a hand over his mustache. "If you need to quote me on it, Mr. Darling, feel free. While you were taking down Quantrill, the boys and I were engaged in a firefight with what I originally thought were a buncha bushwhackers. I still don't rightly know who they were, but they wore all black uniforms - looked like both Union and Confederate outfits but dyed black. Also, they didn't have any boots on. And they were all deaders, though I'm not sure you'll have much credibility with your readers if you publish that part, unless you send this down to the Tombstone Epitaph. You can go take a look at 'em if you like, but Vernon says he's gonna burn those as he already hasn't set alight. In any case, we put paid to 'em."

"Destroy the skull and his heart also," Sky Dog reminded the reporter, then started heading off down the street. He beckoned Daniel after.

"I do not know where their barber is, but I did tell the dentist I would try to cure the ones there that have the rabies from a wolf-spirit shot with iron, in the morning: I wish to see if they are all still alive. I think it was the disease the other shaman called, with his wickedness," Sky Dog looked grim, then grinned at Daniel's advice and translated it for the raven in his hood.

Korpi made vague grumbly noises and snuggled down lower.

"Ah, she says that if she cannot move from my hood, you are the only one that can reach for head-scratching," Sky Dog semi-translated, looking over Daniel with a somewhat appraising glance. Korpi just turned her head and fluffed her neckfeathers in invitation to scritch.

---

Working with the rather visible flaming general store as a landmark, Sky Dog found their way up to the dentist's. "Dentist Zachross! I have one wounded here, and need of the water," he called.

Randolph watches the shaman walk away with a rather dazed expression on his face. Then he turns to regard the corpse and its companion head on the floor.

Glancing at Earp, he says, "Been a while since I dressed an antelope. I don't even carry a knife these days. How about you? Don't I recall you once hunted bison? Perhaps one of your men might assist with at least procuring the offending heart. Then we can try to figure out how to destroy it. And the skull."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:45, Wed 02 Sept 2015.

"I don't know that all that is necessary, Mr. Darling. I can go ahead and put Quantrill's body to the torch, that way we can make sure he's done for good and all. You want to get a picture for your paper first?" he asked the reporter.

In reply to Vernon Price (msg # 123):

Darling shakes his head: "If I could draw, I'd sketch it from memory. As things stand, I'll have to just 'paint a picture in prose.'

"Do you want it dragged outside? I can go scare up a rope."

"I'll take care of it," Price said, slinging his flamethrower into a thong strapped on his back and walking into the undertaker's place. He emerged a few minutes later dragging the corpse and the head out a few feet away from the building, and then brought his weapon out to begin the torching again.

In reply to Vernon Price (msg # 125):

Randolph stands well clear and upwind.

Belatedly recalling the twist of paper in his hand, Randolph gestures for Price to wait. He stands beside the renegade's corpse and sprinkles the salt over the remains, not neglecting the head. Then he steps away again.

Price gives the reporter a strange look as he seasons the corpse. "I hope you're not planning to eat that," he said, before cranking on the fire. "It's gonna be well done."

Coraline came strolling from the darkness surrounding the town, not with Abaddon, but arm in arm with Caleb.  As they once again reentered civilization, she gave his hand a soft squeeze, offering her silent and steady support as he returned to face the judgment of others.  The night was full of life-altering changes and decisions.  Coraline was still thinking about them as she caught sight of Randolph and Price.  Nudging Caleb in that direction, she ambled over to watch Price's strange contraption spew its cleansing flame.  It was cathartic to watch Quantrill's corpse collapse upon itself in the face of the fire that rendered it to naught but smoke and ash.

A hand shielding his face from the heat of the burning, coughing a bit at the noxious stench that arose, Randolph sees Coraline approach the illuminated circle and raises a hand in greeting. Then he spots Caleb still keeping to the shadows and strides to him, hand extended and smiling.

Clasping the lawman's hand, he looks steadily into his eyes as he speaks.

"Well, Marshall, Looks like we did it and I can't wait to write it up. What a yarn!

"My readers will certainly thrill to the part where the unknown creature with the shape of a beast and the heart of a knight errant takes down the ultimate foe and then vanishes mysteriously back into the night.

"Did you see it? I wonder what -- or who -- it might have been."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:20, Thu 10 Sept 2015.

The sight of Darling and the warmth of his greeting brought a smile to Morgan's face. As he listened to the reporter, he was suddenly doubly thankful for his friendship and understanding. Despite the fact that they had only known one another for a few short weeks, it seemed to Morgan that Darling had become one of his closest friends.

Shaking Darling's extended hand, Morgan cleared his throat. "Yes, Randolph, we did it. I honestly can't wait to read your story."

He looked at the reporter meaningfully. "This creature...I can't help but think that perhaps, while it would be pleased to have its accomplishment retold, maybe it would prefer that its identity remain unknown." He shrugged. "That might make it easier for it provide its help again, if more trouble came to pass later down the line."

He smiled and shook his head. "I'm certainly no writer, but don't most folks love a little mystery?"

In reply to Caleb Morgan (msg # 131):

"I haven't any idea what the creature was. Or Who," he says firmly, "And I haven't any time to waste chasing some will o' the wisp. That'll just have to remain one of the... Mysteries of the Weird West."