Outskirts - Preston's Riverboat.   Posted by Bargainer.Group: 0
 GM, 24 posts
Wed 24 Jul 2019
at 07:05
Outskirts - Preston's Riverboat
In the outskirts, there are many swamps, most are hosts to various monsters that like the murky waters and the knobby knees of the bald cypresses that stretch out from the mossy ground. Most of the bald cypresses had been razed by humans seeking their rot resistant wood, but the lack of people has caused the trees to soar once again draped with Spanish moss that sometimes sweeps so low as to touch the ground. Black Tupelo spread their branches below the Cypresses, their gray alligator like trunks sinking deep roots into the swamp. The leaves turn a rich orange in the fall. Amongst the fallen logs, reeds, and the perfume of wild azaleas drifting over the more pungent smell of the sometimes stagnant water is the place where Preston's rust-filled riverboat sits.

It floats on the slowly moving waters between two Tupelo trees. Once a majestic example of early twentieth century ingenuity, it's smokestacks now list together like two drunken friends trying to hold each other up. White peeling paint covers what hasn't been overtaken by rust. There are three stories to the boat, the topmost and smallest layer being the pilot house. The other two decks are for passengers, but are now mostly hollowed out and decrepit. The paddle wheel has mostly rotted away. Some of it still hangs at the back of the boat like the tatters of a ruffle.  How the steamboat manages to float is a mystery.

It was a place Ryker found long ago and would revisit to think and clear his head in solitude but gradually he spent more and more time away there until one day it was just home.

This message was last edited by the GM at 13:54, Wed 24 July 2019.

Preston Ryker
 player, 10 posts
Wed 7 Aug 2019
at 00:09
Outskirts - Preston's Riverboat
Preston walked heavily up the old gangplank half buried in the thick mud. The old cypress wood splintered and gnarled groaned from his weight but didn't break. Unlike other wood natural cypress wouldn't rot in the wet mud giving reason to why so many boats and swamp shacks were made of it.

  Ryker trudged across the deck and into the parlor. There was once ornate glass doors but those had long since been smashed by hooligans. Tables and chairs had once filled the grand parlor but most were mere splinters now, serving mostly as firewood for cooking or on cool nights.

  Reaching behind the bar along the back wall Preston found an old murky bottle of bourbon. The damp had discolored the glass and most of the label had fallen away but he wasn't picky. He continued on into what was once a first class cabin but now contained little more than a pallet and a small table with a hurricane lamp.

  Ryker sat on the floor at the low table and placed Aurora in front of him. He very slowly and methodically he cleaned and oiled each piece before reassembling it. As he did he repeated the names of each of his fallen brothers. It was his mantra. What kept him going. He toasted each of them in turn before finishing the bottle to keep the memories at bay. Peace tonight however was not to be. Laying on his pallet staring at the moisture stained ceiling his mind roamed. To the time before to his brothers and other wars, then to the change and monsters that followed. One face however bled through it all. The Bargainer. Again he swore to himself and whatever God was listening that somehow he would end the demon himself.
Note on the wall
Sat 10 Aug 2019
at 20:27
Outskirts - Preston's Riverboat
When Preston returned to his boat, he'd eventually see a message that was lovely imbedded into the wood with an ivory handled hunting knife.

On the note is the message, "Meet me in town at that old bar you made. You worked so hard on it, old man, you should at least drink the rot gut they serve there."