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.