Caroline is only mildly curious about the gunfire, her time on the battlefield having long since robbed the sound of its novelty. All the same, she moves forward to get a better look, coming to an abrupt stop the moment she can see over the crest of the hill.
A moment later, her professional instincts kick in, forcing down the revulsion and urge to flee being transmitted by the less monomaniacal parts of her brain. She rushes forward to try to get a better angle on the rampaging monstrosity, settling behind a tree near the clearing with the best line of sight she can manage.
Instead of readying her shotgun, though, she swings the camera up in front of her face, framing up the charging creature in the device’s viewfinder.
Seeing the monstrosity, Stuthman hesitates only slightly, looking toward Il Brutto and back toward Caroline to see what they will do.
Making his decision, Stuthman urges his mount forward, in the direction of the woman; his rifle slipping neatly to his shoulder as he fires:
Joaquin briefly considers employing his magicks but relies on brute force instead. He steps - with perhaps surprising bravery, given his character - within twenty feet of the thing, and raises both shotguns.
"'EY, MUCHACHO!" he yells in Spanish. "IL BRUTTO, HE'S THE ONLY UGLY ONE 'LLOWED HERE!"
Caroline lines herself up and frames her picture before she shoots. She has a good feeling about this picture. Whatever that thing is, she's got it recorded.
Kicking up his horse, Stuthman rides up into the woods and soothing the horse he manages to orient it on the horror without the horse completely spooking. He rides on by, levels his rifle, and blasts it with his rifle. The shot goes clean in but... doesn't seem to harm the creature as much as it should. It shakes off the blast.
Il Brutto stalks up next and once within twenty feet he leans around a tree, calling out his name to whatever the hell this thing is before blasting it clean through with two shotgun blasts...
Except that the holds start to close up with mud and blood sweing them up instantly. However the second blast seems to have done enough to shake the thing. It just lets out a burbling roar before it stands again, and flings out a hand at Il Brutto, firing a bolt of hardened mud at him!
However, the thing is still woozy from the shot and instead fires a bolt right into a tree that crashes down on it. It roars as it tries to throw the three off.
"Boy howdy am I glad to see whoever in sam hell you are!" shouts the woman before she fires at the creature again. Her peacemaker roars but the bullets just don't seem to slow the thing.
Caroline
Joaquin
Stuthman
---
Blood Man
---
Woman
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Caroline is not so distracted by her efforts at photography that she fails to notice the creature shrugging off the gunshots.
Well, that seems...bad. I knew I should have brought dynamite - but if Joaquin got his hands on it, god only knows...
She lets the camera drop to her side and scurries forward, trying to get a better shot. As she does so, she brings her shotgun up to her shoulder and recalls what the soldiers taught her as she followed them on their campaign.
Steady. Squeeze, don't pull. Breathe in, release, shoot.
Il Brutto lets out a but-gusting laugh as the creature fells a tree right on top of itself.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA..! LOOK AT THIS IDIOT THING, STUTHMAN! IT WANTS TO DIE!" He cocks the other two hammers and points again. "WE DO IT A FAVOUR AND HELP, EH?"
Mr. Stuthman will continue to press forward, trying to angle himself between the creature and the woman.
His teeth are bared in a grimace - he doesn't know what this thing is, but it definitely doesn't look right.
Firearms roar in the small copse with Caroline just destroying another tree while Stuthman and Il Brutto hit. Il Brutto blasts a huge hole in its chest, knocking it back briefly, but it manages to recover its wits to throw the tree off and get to its feet. The woman continues to back off.
"BETSY?! AMELIA?! WHERE YOU GALS AT!" she hollers. Distantly, you hear gunfire. "Hopin' my girls get here soon. Fool me going on ahead..."
She squeezes off another shot at the creature, but it misses wildly.
Now that you've shot at this thing a bunch you're starting to get a sense of what kind of critter it may be. It's possible this is some kind of construct which'd mean that firearms, bolts, arrows or their ilk don't hurt it that much. Something blunt, or something broad and sharp amy do the trick better - if you have that sorta kit.
Used: KD, KC, QC, AD, 9S, 8S
Joaquin - 2H
Stuthman - 2D/3D (2D)
Caroline - 7C
Blood Man - 4C
Woman - 6D
Caroline
Woman
---
Blood Man
---
Joaquin
Stuthman
Caroline hisses out a frustrated breath as the shot goes wild, blowing a flurry of splinters out of an unfortunate tree. Her eyebrows draw downward as she narrows her eyes, recalibrating her aim.
As you continue battling this thing it becomes apparent that the ground smoulders beneath it and its bolds have been smoking up the trees something fierce. Good thing it isn't a better shot because you're liable to get set on fire by this bastard.
Caroline fires off a shot and finally connects, but unfortunately the creature just shrugs off the rifle shot. The woman fires again with the same effect. She swears.
"This damn thing won't go down!"
It twists and fires another shot at Il Brutto, this time moving towards the man so it's almost in melee range. Il Brutto ducks, and the tree behind him is hit solidly and bursts into flame!
Reaching into a saddlebag, Mr. Stuthman pulls out a mason jar containing a clear liquid. Inhaling deeply of the toxic fumes escaping from the jar, he tosses it at the creature: "Wha- Joaquin *huhuh* Bullets less *hehcck* effective. D'you *achoo* have a knife?"
Brutto has been laughing, but it has been forced. There's a serpent in his head, and it's screaming.
LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUT--
Joaquin clacks his barrel back up, and with his quick hands his weapons are away almost instantly. Producing his cards, he shuffles them in one of his fat paws expertly and casts Armour - or "Aliento de dragón", the protection Joaquin believes comes from the dragon in his head.
Ramirez suddenly baress his teeth in an insane grin, his hair bristling and his adrenaline moving even higher even after his voice falls quiet. Although there is no trapping to his spell, he nonetheless seems to stand even taller and more confident.
Used: KD, KC, QC, AD, 9S, 8S, 2H, 2D, 3D, 7C, 4C, 6D
Joaquin - JOKER
Stuthman - 3H/8D
Caroline - AC
Blood Man - QS
Woman - 6C
Good news is the formaldehyde was a direct hit. Bad news is the bastard doesn't seem to mind the fire and just keeps stomping along. Joaquin psyches himself up and seems to become ... more of himself. Considering he was already man substantial of waist and personality, that's a hell of a feat.
You hear more gunfire in the distance and Caroline hollers back. "UP HERE! HELP ME WITH THIS BIG BASTARD!"
Joaquin
Caroline
---
Blood Man
---
Woman
Stuthman
Muttering a variety of colorful curses under her breath, Caroline cracks open the breech on her shotgun, ejecting both spent shells. She smoothly slides a pair of replacement shells into place and snaps the breech shut.
"It, ah, doesn't seem terribly impressed by anything we're doing," she calls out, a hint of urgency creeping into her voice.
With the flurry of activity and danger all around, Joaquin Ramirez does something unexpected. Instead of pulling his knife, he pulls out an old, chewed-up cigar. Lighting it on the back of the playing cards in his hand, his lit-up face looks up with that grin that seems to say COME ON IN, HOSS, THE WATER'S FINE to the Blood Man. Shaking the match out as the thing bears down on him, he inhales and blows the smoke a surprisingly long distance at it through his mouth and nose. The"Niebla del Dragón", or "Dragon's Breath", spews forth like a white fog.
Total: 17, 15, 11
Joaquin - AD
Stuthamn - KD/5S (5s)
Caroline - 2C
Pearl gang - 8H
Creature - AH
The creature's strange face blanks and it begins swinging around aimlessly in response to Joaquin's strange powers.
Stuthman's mind frantically tries to figure out what the hell this thing is as it shrugs off his formaldehyde.
He can reason out the following - it is a construct of some kind and it is made of blood, mud, and fire and is as we now know, immune to fire. Considering it seems to have fire a constituent part, there's a pretty obvious solution of what may wound it. Water. There's a pleasant little stream a little ways back from the creature. As well, because it is resistant to bullets, blunt force trauma may be the other option.
You hear hooting and hollering and up the trail behind your horses ride an additional six women, guns out. The woman hiding behind the bolder hollers out, pointing at the creature. "KILL THAT DAMNED THING! These men here are helpin'!"
They ride up over the ridge and leap from their horses with loaded rifles. The horses scatter as they all aim at the big creature, blasting away.
The creature, confused from Joaquin's trickery, is riddled with bullets. Two of the shots manage to blast its shoulder wide open and blood and mud pour out of the wound which this time isn't sealing itself. It's clear the creature is very, very badly wounded.
Staring blankly at the creature, the creature that shoots fire, that he just threw more fire at, Mr. Stuthman mentally kicks himself: So much for the man of science... Hang on, if not fire, then..."
"Water!" he croaks, and as he says this, a short burst of rain falls on the creature, though there are no clouds overhead.
Joaquin Ramirez - or the Dragón if you prefer; both are present - has been standing in front of this thing as it gets closer, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke in its face. He has also been loading shells into his shotguns, and with the thing floundering under his Confusion, he raises them towards it.
"TIME TO DIE, PARDNER," he says in a voice that's larger than his own, and completely American. That same grin remains on his face, clamping down on an old cigar as he fires.
Stuthman starts trying to work with the powers within the creek, extolling the strange forces that take hold of him... but his concentration is interrupted.
KABLAM!"
Joaquin walks straight up to the stunned, wounded creature, and with a sneer he plants his shotgun into its head before pulling the trigger. Its head blasts apart and scorching mud and blood spray out in a gory display over the battlefield. Moaning, it collapses into nothing but a puddle of mud.
End of Combat
A cheer rises up from the women who rush over to the woman who appears to be their leader. She's injured from the fight though none too badly. Standing up, she makes her way over while the others assemble behind her. They are all tough-looking, well-armed, and have hard eyes.
"Well ain't you folks a help to a girl in need. Shelly Pearl, and these sisters of mine behind me are the Pearl Gang. Looks like you just made yerself a friend there partner."
Caroline steps out from behind the tree, being careful to make sure her shotgun is pointed at the ground in a non-threatening manner. She raises her free hand in a greeting.
"Happy to help," she offers cheerfully. "Leaving aside for the moment the question of what in the living hell that thing was, I'm Caroline Caldwell, and these are my associates Mr. Stuthman and Mr. Ramirez."
She quickly sizes the group up. "Do you...run into this sort of thing often, around here? How long has this been going on?"
The dragons recedes unnoticed as Il Brutto continues to load up his shotguns fully, eyeing the women through the one eye that isn't closed against the smoke of his cigar. He does this carefully, giving him time to size up the gang of ladies, and nods to them at the mention of his name but does not speak.
Letting the others talk, he puts his guns away and carefully scans the surrounding area to ensure they are alone before turning his attention back to the new arrivals.
Waving noncommittally at the Pearl Gang, Mr. Stuthman dismounts, breaks a small branch from a nearby tree, and crouches down to poke in the puddle of mud where the creature used to be: "Some so*hur*tta construct, or somethin-*hehihi*? How was this *HA!*-live?"
Squinting over at Shelley, Stuthman rasps: "You hurt? Ne-heed someone to take a look at that for ya?"
Il Brutto takes a look over the area, but it seems that whatever the hell that thing was, it scared away anything else mean.
Pearl approaches to shake hands, barking a laugh. "Strange things in these hills, I'll say that. Seen some walking dead from a distance, and kept it that way. Had a couple skirmishers with Mayhem Archer, the rat bastard. First time I seen one'a those bastards."
She jerks a thumb over to the women with her. "These here were the wives and homemakers for the two-bit miners what ruined their family fortune chasing pennies down a hole in the dirt. What with their husbands either vanishing or worse - turnin' mean they came and joined my cause. My cause?"
She spits to the side. "Put a bullet in Marshal Bryce's head. That somb@%%$ is the evil what befell Coffin Rock. We was fine afore he showed his ugly keister in these parts. I came here t'meet my father, and he turned up dead and Bryce with all his deeds. When I came to take what was mine by rights, Bryce put a bullet in me and tried worse. Barely got away with my life. Now there's black magic and spirits and ... whatever the sam hell that was wandering the hills 'cause'a him! Bryce stole my birthright and I intend to make him pay."
The women nod as Shelly speaks, talking about how Shelly gave them their lives back. Stuthman moves over to inspect Pearl's wound. One of those blasts from the blood man tore a hole in her side she's been bravely ignoring. However, nothing serious was injured and with some stitching she'll be okay.
Shelly acquiesces to Stuthman's healing while the girls mill about, offering some whiskey to the group and a lot to Shelly as she's stitched up. "So who are you folks? What's your story? Only fools and madmen come to Coffin Rock, and you seem sane enough."
"...you seem sane enough."
"AHHAA *ahehehcch* hihihee." Stuthman has to pause his stitches to wipe tears from his eyes.
Many questions tumble around in Stuthman's head: Mayhem Archer? Who's that? We can help take care of that bastard sheriff, can't we? Black magic? And where's that bloody priest? ...
But he can't articulate any of this because a single pure thought fills his mind like a magnesium flare, burning the rest away: "Walking dead," he rasps "Where?"
Me maintains her smile, glancing sidelong at Stuthman. She looks over the group, deciding exactly how much it might be wise to reveal.
"Ah. Yes. Mr. Stuthman here is rather...focused when it comes to the elimination of walking corpses. In fact, that gets to your question - we've received word of some of the goings-on around here and, having some experience with the...unusual, we would like to get to the bottom of it and do what we can to help." She glances again at Stuthman and Joaquin, her eyebrows inching up slightly as if to say, Right?
"To that end, anything you could tell us about these parts and what's been going on would be very helpful. We've already met Bryce and his lackeys. They made it abundantly clear we weren't welcome."
Slinging her shotgun over her back, she concludes, "I really don't mean to flood you with questions. It's just that we're still trying to find our footing here. We'd heard a few things about this...Brother Cheval, I believe?...and his congregation. Who's this Mayhem Archer? And of course, anything else you could tell us would be very useful - and we may, in return, be able to help you."
Il Brutto nods back at Caroline, taking a drink from his canteen now and leaning against a tree. He reckons Caroline has asked all the questions that need asking, and so he hangs back. Besides, the dragon just made him look particularly heroic: standing firm, lighting a cigar as the beast roars and charges, blowing smoke in its face and then removing said face with his guns from point blank range. May as well let that ride out a few moments longer.
After all, once he opens his mouth he knows it won't be long before he wonders loudly why these idiot women are out in the woods instead of home minding their homesteads and husbands like they should be.
Shelly yelps as Stuthman's eyes glaze over at the mention of zombies. "Easy there doc! You're stitching the wound not my damned spleen." She takes another swig of whiskey before passing it to one of the other women.
"Walking dead ... well ya just see the odd shambler from a distance. No real rhyme or reason to it m'afraid. You wanna find 'em be my guest though! Mayhem Archer runs a gang 'round these parts. Not like us who just kinda wound up sticking with Shelly when she gave us a better deal than our rat husbands. He fashions himself some icon of the west. Wants a legend. All I know is he ain't half the shot he thinks he is. He's mean enough to attract a posse though."
Shelly takes the whiskey back, speaking through gritted teeth. "Forget about Cheval, I don't truck with his type and their phony smiles but he's harmless. Bryce is the man you want, that two bit son of a whore!" She tails off into a string of curses before returning to the point at hand. "I dunno what else to tell you. Bryce shows up, Daly dies, town goes to pot, everyone starts going crazy - that's how I hear it. These girls just got stories about their husbands turning crazy and mean - or just going out to prospect'n never coming back."
Caroline manages to keep her annoyance from showing on her face. Surely -someone- in this godforsaken backwater has at least some inkling of what’s going on.
”So you say the problems started when Bryce showed up? And you think he’s responsible for...” She indicates the space where the beast had been with a sideways glance. ”He struck me as more of the mean and stupid type.” She leaves the subject there, ultimately deciding against arguing with an armed group with a grudge.
”So nothing stands out in terms of events? No mine accidents, no unexplained happenings - just Daly’s death, the fire, and a gradual descent into...all of this?”
She purses her lips, her gaze drifting away as she stares at nothing in particular.
Something must have happened. Whatever is causing this either came from outside or was unearthed here, or it’s the result of some specific event. Bryce and Cheval are the two conspicuous outsiders, but Bryce seems too mundanely brutish to be the cause of all this, unless there’s something we’re missing.
She ticks off the points in her mind. We have an unexplained phenomenon that causes the dead to rise. It also seems capable of generating...creatures out of the environment. People in town start turning bad - mean, violent, suspicious. Others start seeing and hearing things - in mirrors and photographs, for instance, or the church bell.
Is there any guiding purpose behind all of this, or is it just a localized...rot, like the groundwater has been poisoned? So far, it seems random. Is it possible Daly, in his desperation, tried to make some sort of Faustian bargain? I’ve never heard of something like that actually happening, just folktales, but there’s a first time for everything. Either way, I don’t expect we’ll get many answers by seeking out a group of violent outlaws.
She sighs, the entire process having taken only a few seconds. She returns her attention to Shelly.
”Well, we’ll certainly do what we can. How can we get in touch with you if we should find out something that might help? Oh, and we’d heard Cheval is out in these hills doing, well, something. Has anyone seen him lately? We should talk to him - just in the name of being thorough, of course.”
Joaquin takes interest in the talk of this Mayhem Archer person, lifting his head from under his sombrero and raising an eyebrow. He never notes that his finger has tapped his trigger guard on one of the weapons a few times, lost in his stupid jealousy of fame and notoriety.
Trying to shake his thoughts loose, Stuthman shakes his head and grumbles under his breath about Daly not being dead enough.
Unknowingly, his thoughts follow a similar path to Caroline's, but, while he's not as belligerent as Joaquin, he doesn't have the reporter's sense of when to stay quiet: "That just doesn't make sense. Sure, Bryce is a mean sumb*%%&, so were your husbands - could be he was just meaner than most when he got here. But by all accounts, everyone went mean. You wanna mount a posse for Bryce - go ahead - we might even join you. But no way is he the cause of this. My money's on the priest that hangs out with dead folk."
Frowning as he ponders the last few minutes of conversation: "Your birthright? You said Bryce stole your birthright - what does that mean?"
Pearl scowls. "Look, maybe the church is up to no good, maybe it ain't. Bryce is what I'm concerned about. I'm owed a lot of property by that son of a b#&+@ he stole from my father."
She tails off into another string of curses while another one of the women speaks up. "We ain't seen Cheval round these parts but easy to get missed by folk. We're following Pearl - she gave us our lives back and as y'may notice she's got a bit of vengeance on her mind."
Another moves over to Caroline to speak. "There's been accidents and problems, but they were kinda a part of all of what's been going on, miss Caroline. I can't think of no single event what caused our happenstances. Just a lot of bad happening all the time. The mines were playing out for months before things got proper bad though. First everyone was just desperate for more copper - didn't get mean until later."
Caroline offers a sympathetic nod. "I understand. We'll do whatever we can to help get to the bottom of things, of course. I'm sorry for all the questions, truly; I must seem unbearably nosy. If it wouldn't be -too- much bother, though, could I trouble you about just a couple more things?"
She gives a small, embarrassed smile and adds "Just to give us somewhere to start looking, you understand. Now, Pearl mentioned her father's property that Bryce had stolen. Do you know where that might be located? And are there any other areas that that come to mind - places people make a point of avoiding, maybe? Oh, and before I forget - should we find something, where can we find all of you?"
She leans forward to speak quietly to the woman who approached her.
"I am truly sorry for all of your troubles around here. The mines running out would be bad enough, but this..." She turns her head, casting her gaze over nothing in particular. "Well, it simply cannot stand."
Until the gang answers Caroline's questions, and given there's been a lot of talk about 'a$#~%++ men', Stuthman keeps his lips glued together, apart from the occasional coughing wheeze.
Pearl looks over the stitch work and nods approvingly to Stuthman. "You do good work doc, if ya wanna make a bunch of girls happy we've got a camp up aways. Head around three miles down this track, and then take a left at the boulder that looks like a skull. We may not always be there but that's our camp. I don't know what my father owned, I was just told to get his deeds. I reckon it's a few claims and I think he owns that there bordello. I tried to talk with that madam but she gave me the creeps and I didn't want to do nothing with that unless I had proof I owned the place."
One of the women speaks up as Pearl goes on. "The Coffin Rock itself... there's some heebie jeebies going on there. Seein' stuff what ain't there. Visions and the like. Reckon it'd be a good place to get shade or maybe go for a climb and get a nice view but we stay away from there."
"You do good work doc, if ya wanna make a bunch of girls happy we've got a camp up aways..."
Stuthman’s face flushes bright red - it’s the most colour you’ve ever seen in the sallow-faced man: ”*hem* I will *hhhh* *hhhehhh* help, if I can.”
After a few moments of being flustered, Stuthman regains his composure and begins to speculate: ”The deeds - does Bryce have these? Are there copies, perhaps, at the town hall?”
Briefly nodding in response to Stuthman's speculation (and after a brief pause for a possible answer), Caroline claps her hands once, as if to mark the conclusion of the conversation.
"Thank you, ladies. You've all been tremendously helpful. We will, of course, let you know should we find anything. If anything should come up that we might be able to help with, please do let us know."
She favors the group with a genial smile and, with a wave, she turns to her two companions. Her thoughts race.
The rock itself? Hm. Bears investigating, I suppose, and if this Cheval is up to no good, it might be that we'll find him nearby. Still, it's interesting - why does this affliction of meanness and violence only seem to affect some people but not others? Is it like a disease? Does it have to do with the person in question? The theater shows that it's clearly not just men.
Pearl's angry declarations suddenly cross her mind and she furrows her brow pensively. Or maybe those others -have- been affected, only in different ways? How long does it take? Do we need to be on guard for changes in our own attitudes?
Speaking in a lower voice, she addresses Stuthman and Joaquin. "So what now? Since we're out here, do we give the rock a look, or...?" She trails off, her raised eyebrows inviting alternative suggestions.
"I say we go find this... Chevalo person," Joaquin says, shouldering off from the tree he'd been leaning on, "and shoot him in the face. Then," he adds with a raised finger, as if revealing a crucial part of his master plan, "we go find the Marshal and we say, 'Hola, Senor Marshal' - but then we shoot him in the face. Maybe along the way we find this, uhh, this archery hombre, and we say 'Hey, bows and arrows, it's no good, we have guns now, stupid,' and then -" Joaquin pauses for effect. "- we shoot him in the face."
The big, ugly man grins widely and shrugs. "We shoot everything in the face, and they don't be a problem no more, eh? Heheheheh...... but in the meantime, Senorita Caldwell... we go see your rock. This time Joaquin rides with you."
The brute motions that she get back on her horse so that he can climb up.
Stuthman frowns in thought ”I’d like to find Brother Cheval too - I have a bad feeling about the man. On the other hand, we actually know where the Rock is, and presumably it won’t be moving...”
”I agree we need to find him,” Caroline responds. ”If he really is at the center of all of this, I was just wondering if perhaps we might find him in the spot known for strange events. Besides, I can’t say that I’m much of a tracker - are either of you?”
”Still,” she concedes. ”I won’t argue if someone insists on an alternative approach. Who knows? Perhaps we’ll get lucky and stumble across him.”
Il Brutto continues waving them on to their horses, though his arm slows considerably. He sighs through his broken, mashed nose dramatically, and when he speaks he has the infuriating tone of someone who can barely tolerate the topic of current discussion.
"Hey, a&%#@~%s,", the large man drones, still absently waving at the horses. He spits a large amount of tobacco juice onto the ground, some of it spattering on his chin. He does not wipe it away. "Us, we don't know where this padre is, but we know where this rock is. We go there." He pauses, mercifully turning away to urinate against a tree.
"We prattle as we go. Joaquin, he has something to say to you both."
Caroline gives an easy shrug. "You heard him," she says. "Besides, it beats his other plan."
She makes her way to the horses, unslinging her camera to prepare it for storage.
Il Brutto speaks the truth, you have no idea where Cheval is, but there is that really big rock. On this side of it you're coming from its east side. After getting some directions from Pearl's Gang, you bid farewell to the women and head your separate ways.
You double back a ways before taking a side track on your horses. It's hard going in the hills but thankfully not too hot a day and the mountain air smells a heck of a lot better than the own.
Coffin rock itself is basically a bald ugly pain in the tuckus hill where the cliff-side facing the town looks a heck of a lot like a coffin. You approach it from the back end.
As you ride up to the rock you get a strange vision. Your nose fills with the scent of pungent herbal smoke and you can see a hole in the top of the rock, leading downwards.
Despite a certain affinity for a rock in the shape of the primary tool of his trade, Mr Stuthman feels a revulsion as he approaches the Rock, and grumbles about how they should have brought some dynamite with them...