"Stampede!" shouted Brother Clary, who tried to follow Marianne's lead and sidestep the frightened "animals" as much as was safely possible.

McCurdy cursed as he veered and grabbed Liza into his arms, hurling her frail weight over his shoulder as he cut a line out of the path of the stampede...

With the skill of seasoned adventurers, the three neatly sidestep the stampeding lizard-cows, who flounder their way across the swamp, losing three of their ilk in the process.  One of the smaller ones managed to free itself, and ran bawling after the small herd.  The lizard squirrel, spattered with mud from their passage, sat down on a flare of swamp grass and commenced to wash its fur and scales with fussy little paws and tongue.

There was no sound from the other side of the swamp - none at all.  No birds twittering, nothing....

Then - the crack of gunfire, and the bellow of a big creature.  McCurdy instantly recognized the sound of a M1911a being fired, and the sound of a much bigger firearm, even as his body was used as a tree and climbed up once again by a frightened lizard-squirrel.  The trees at the edge thrashed, and they caught a glimpse of the big hunter flailing among them, the jaws snapping.  Then another loud bang, from a big firearm, and a heavy thud and shaking lower in the trees, the smaller ones flattened and broken by the impact - the big creature had fallen, and was struggling to get up, despite a huge dripping red wound in its side.

Bursting from the treeline, clutching cutlass and a handgun, was a bloody, tattered Sebastian Hawksmoore.  He dodged the jaws of the monster as it reached for him, leapt like a gazelle and impaled the very eye of the beast with his cutlass, then jumped and rolled away, as the creature thrashed some more, splintering trees and sending up gouts of mud and earth.  Coming behind him was an equally tattered Hornsby, firing a flintlock pistol at the monster's bare belly.  The two pirates hurried away to reload and get their bearings, but the creature seemed to be in dire straits now, and unable to render any attacks.  Both the pirates then turned to each other with matching grins, then looked at the swamp, where the three adventurers were standing.  "Capitol !"  Hornsby said, with a whoop, "We found you !"

McCurdy held on to Liza as if she was a porcelain doll he was afraid to drop on a hard, stone floor. He stood stock still, amazed at what he was watching. And numbed by it all.

"Capitol... indeed..." McCurdy blew the fur of the lizard-squirrel's tail out from in front of his mouth and concentrated on not trying to rub his nose with his hands full. He looked at Liza in his arms and wondered what had happened to her...

Brother Clary exhaled, as if he had been holding a deep breath for an excruciatingly long time.  "Praise God!" he murmured.  Then, looking up at McCurdy and Liza, he asked "Fellers, I've seen the skill you showed on ol' McCurdy here.  Anything you can do for the lady?  She's got some powerful spell over her."

Liza Waters stared vapidly off into space, unaware of anything, mud splatters from the passing stampede standing out on her pale blue dress.  She had lost a sandal in their run through the swamp, also.  The scaly squirrel clung to McCurdy's ear, claws prickling, and sneezed noisily.

Brother Clary directed the two ragtag pirates to Liza Waters.  "The Mapmaker put a powerful 'fluence upon her," Hornsby said, his jovial tone turning serious. Hawksmoore's face, never one where a smile stayed long, lapsed into its familiar sullen scowl.  "But we're closer now, though that devil blew us far enough away and into dire straits.  Let's be going...the answer may lay at the fountain, for her and for us.  If she's been dosed with the xombie powder, it may be her only chance, and a slim one at that."
"Wait," Hawksmoore said. "They must know that nothing can be what it seems here, and they must be suspicious of us as well.  Query us, to learn if we truly are Hawksmoore and Hornsby - and we wilt do the same.  McCurdy, where did I first see thee ?"

McCurdy looked at Hawksmoore directly, Liza forgotten for the moment. "Shadows and illusion is it now? What's next? A passel of gremlins ridin a pink elephant...?" He blew out his breath in a huff and looked quite irritated. Still...

"Perfection general store," he answered, "Now I got one for you: What was the name of the woman runnin' that store?"

"Twas Chang - a man." Hawksmoore replied, with some sense of satisfaction.  "I hight you are as you seem."

"Let's be off then - tis time and time passing," Hornsby said impatiently.

"To everything there is a season..." Brother Clary muttered.  Then he shouldered his shotgun and followed the others.

"And I reckon that's why we are in this mess," McCurdy said flatly in response to Clary's quip. He took off his hat and ran his hand through his short hair. It was getting too long, he realized, despite the fact that it was barely half an inch long. He stopped rubbing his head as he touched fur. He turned his head to look at the scaly squirrel as if realizing it was still with him. It chirped as it pointed an eye at him. He held it apart from him for a moment, studying it. It looked foreign to him for some reason, of a sudden.

"You still here too, eh..." He set the little thing on his shoulder and let it go to see where it wanted to be. "Shoulda never stepped outta yur hole - or whatever it is you live in. Yur along for the long haul now, I reckon." He suddenly wondered if it could be trained and immediately dismissed the idea. No use getting attached to anything from this dream.

McCurdy looked around at Hornsby and Hawksmoore, motioning that he was ready to move on. "Any other surprises we can expect in this fairy tale, Hawksmoore? What do we have to look forward to now...?"

The lizard-squirrel responded with a merry chirrup and again stuck its wet, cold little nose into McCurdy's ear.  It seemed happy to loll around his shoulders like a strange stole.

Hornsby bristled as McCurdy directed his query at Hawksmoore, but since Hawksmoore was standing in front of Hornsby, the youth did not notice this.  The cool, calculating look returned to Hawksmoore's flinty eyes. "The Mapmaker knows his path, and has tested us the once," he said thoughtfully, "There may well be more trials yet today.  Be chary of your trust, McCurdy, give it not away easily.  There are demons here, tis dangerous for you without the Cross."

Without ado, he turned, and so did Hornsby, but they started to move off in slightly different directions.  "This way," snapped Hornsby, as Hawksmoore paused to look askance.

McCurdy looked from the one to the other, wondering exactly who knew which way to go. Demons again, he thought. That's all we need...

He adjusted the tail of the squirrel away from his nose and followed after.

Brother Clary tipped his hat back and regarded the two pirates for a moment.  "If'n we're gonna be facin' more demons, don't you think we might want to have it settled which way we're headed?"

Secretly, he was still fuming with himself over the loss of the cross and his Bible.

Hawksmoore's face betrayed only the smallest bit of surprise; then he turned on Hornsby and drew his cutlass, in a smooth move that he must have done a thousand times in his long life.  Hornsby backpedalled quickly, raising his hands and barking, "Belay that, boy !"

"I lost sight of you whilst lost in the jungle," Hawksmoore said, advancing on Hornsby. "Tell me why I am named Hawksmoore, Captain - or I will take your head."

And, just as fast, Hornsby drew a Luger and fired at Hawksmoore, sending the youth spinning back.

OOC: Marianne seems to have gone missing, so I will gently NPC her along next post.

Stunned at the sight of the two pirates squaring off at each other, and Hornsby's fast-draw on Hawksmore, the black-clad preacher raised his shotgun, smoothly levering a shell into the chamber.

"Brother," he drawled at Hornsby, "Last I checked, Demons don't need no pistols.  Mind tellin' me what's goin' on around here?"

McCurdy wasn't a preacher so he didn't have the patience to try to figure out what a person was thinking at any particular moment when guns were drawn. He quickly drew his own pistol and laid into Hornsby with .45 caliber slugs...

Hornsby had merely turned and fired at the two adventurers, while Hawksmoore was struggling to get to his feet.  Marianne yelped in surprise as once again, the dull-eyed Liza Waters once again was trying to throttle her.

McCurdy fired on Hornsby, trying to put some bullets into him.  The first nicked the pirate's arm, the second slammed solidly into the pirate's chest, knocking him down, and the third missed, and Brother Clary raised the shotgun with intent to fire.  The form of Hornsby flickered then; and became someone else.  The little creature was chittering on his shoulder, claws digging in to maintain its balance.

It was the shooter, from the boat on the river that Brother Clary had seen kill Billie, the one who was Basil Ringrose's right-hand-man.  He was clutching his chest and gasping, unable to bring the Luger to bear on anyone.

"McCurdy!  See to Marianne!"

Running up to the fallen murderer, Brother Clary kicks the luger as far away as he can.  Holding the still-cocked shotgun close by ready to use if necessary, he looks at his fallen enemy.

"Brother, it looks like you've got little time left.  How 'bout unburdening your soul right now afore'n you go to meet your Maker?  Tell me where to find the Cross and my Bible!"

McCurdy kept his gun trained on the doppleganger for a few more seconds. He wasn't quite sure the man was intent on dying here today. He hoped the preacher didn't underestimate him. He would hate to see the bible-thumper cut down like a dead oak in a tornado.

McCurdy finally let his attention move to Liza and Marianne. He put his pistol away and slid an arm between the two, facing Liza as he did so. Then he reached toward the sky with that arm and wrapped it around and down as he pivoted a half turn. Liza would have to let go. There was no two ways around it when an arm lock like this was applied. It was the best way to break a choke hold. Besides, he wasn't sure if she could stand another blow to her head like before.

He clamped his arm down over hers and tightened his hold by applying pressure with his other hand, pulling on the arm that held hers fast. He looked at Marianne sympathetically, waiting for her to recover enough to act on his suggestion. "Would you mind getting something to cinch her wrists please..."

McCurdy dashed to Marianne's assistance, prying the old lady off the redheaded woman once again.  Liza then merely stood there, trapped in McCurdy's grasp and not fighting, idly gazing off into the middle distance, while Marianne struggled to get air back into her lungs.

Brother Clary levelled the shotgun at the wounded man, whose lips were now stained crimson.  The bodyguard of Basil Ringrose was trying to speak, but it was coming out in bubbles and whispers.  "Fountain...trees.  Cut his tree...bastard...Sawney...ask...."

As Marianne recovered her breathing and Liza was content to let the detective hold her, McCurdy turned his attention to Hawksmoore. The morose swashbuckler didn't seem to be moving.

"Hawksmoore! I know I ain't never heard of anybody bein' hurt good, but are you hurt bad?"

After Marianne had recovered enough to let loose a few choice words as she glared at her friend, who was now standing docilely in McCurdy's hold and gazing off into the distance, she turned to the others.

Her expression transformed into shock and horror as she saw the man lying on the ground. It was Carson. He was bleeding badly, unable to speak and close to death.

There had been four deaths already this day. Three had happened right in front of her eyes. Two had been men she had known well - or had thought she had. The day's injuries had been too many to count. All this killing and fighting for what?

Obviously distressed, she unwound her scarf - now quite ragged-looking - and advanced slowly toward Liza, proceeding to tie her wrists with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

"Aren't you at least going to say a prayer?" she asked Brother Clary, angered by his insistence on interrogating Carson while the man lay dying.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:39, Fri 08 Dec 2006.

The Texas preacher shot Marianne a sidelong glance and gritting his teeth a little at the spitfire trying to tell him how to do his job.  Ingrate! he thought to himself.

Without moving the shotgun or taking his eyes off of the bleeding man, Brother Clary began his prayer: "Lord, You know this man done a lot of things wrong in his time here on your earth.  But now he's lyin' here bleedin' to death.  I hope you kin find it in Your heart to fergive him, and give him a safe journey to whereever he's destined to end up.  Oh, and please forgive me for not takin' off my hat when I'm addressin' You.  I kinda got my hands tied up at the moment.  Amen."

"Amen," Marianne echoed, with a glare at Brother Clary. Would it hurt the man to say a proper prayer? Not that Marianne was very religious, but she had never had to think of someone dying in a place outside of space and time before, let alone someone she knew.

She finished tying up Liza's hands and took up her machete again, turning her glare outward toward the jungle as she walked around in silence scanning the greenery for danger.

Hawksmoore did not reply to McCurdy's words; from a look at the unseeing gaze of those steely eyes, it was clear that Hawksmoore would not be responding to him.  Blood had turned the pirate's shirt a bright crimson, and had ceased to flow from a wound that looked to be straight through the heart.  The model of Peter Pan lay unmoving on the turf.

Marianne decided to bind up Liza's hands, an action which the blankly staring woman did not in the least bit object to.

Brother Clary spoke his prayer, but Carson had one last name to gasp out.  "de Leon," with a gruesome death-rattle and bubbles of blood on his lips.  Then he was gone, as well.

The adventurers were alone, with no guides this time.

(Scene Change - Gula's Curse...or Blessing)