Requiem for the West

Hunting the China Man's Demon

Well then, apparently we’re not the only predator that goes bump in the night and feeds from the oblivious mortal kind. A cannibalistic and fierce creature, I believe my red-skinned compatriot called them a “Wendigo”, was terrorizing the local railway workers; the chinamen called it a “demon bear”. Thinking it was good ole Abercrombie, we went to investigate. We got into a little scuffle, but made it out ok.

I guess we’re not the only things to worry about out in the woods. I am beginning to see why praxis to this city was so readily given. It’s mighty dangerous out there….

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Damn fire

Note to self: when slightly unstable and crazy humans start threatening to throw kerosene lanterns, do not go easy on them. Go for the throat.

I feel like I was just lit on fire…probably because I was. Time to go lick some wounds while contemplating which of the war criminals we need to hunt first.

-Nathraichean

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Sticks and stones

Well I will say this for them crazy Redskinned fellows…they sure did give me a work out. The blood was flowing, and the battles joined. 14 dead Indians later, we tucked in for the day and waited for dawn…hoping to not crisp in the morning sun.

The next evening, all went fairly well. A short trip to Fort Collins to refresh and gain supplies, and off to Denver we went.

We arrived around 4 am to a rather dreary town. Our rooms acquired, we rest this evening for tomorrow we shall hunt.

-Nathraichean

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Brave in the face of fire
Edoha

We spent our first few nights in Denver doing our best to ask Eagle to guide us to which of the undead criminals might be easiest to locate first. After some discussion, we headed to the claims lands, looking for a family that is reputed to have fought off a whole band of natives and survived. After meeting with them, I am far less skeptical than before. Not only did these people know how to fight, they knew our kind and how best to fight us. It also indicated that our kind ahve been amongst theses hills. I thank Eagle for the gift. We did eventually subdue them, and considered ghouling them, but enslaving humans whimsically seems a bad idea. We have returned to Denver to lick our wounds (some of us were burned very badly), and will try again to find information about the Runners.

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Resolution and arrival
Edoha

We made quick work of those natives who sought to end our travels out in the empty lands if Wyoming. Between the rifle, bow, and knives, we quickly dispatched some fourteen of the angry fellows. It would seem that one such as myself would find more in common with these fellows, but since my change, the loyalty to any particular tribe is limited to those who share my undead state. We did not continue on with the whites who came to hunt down those savages but instead made our way on to Cheyenne from where we would continue to Denver.

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More of Rabbit
Edoha

A body might begin to think that the Great Spirit doesn’t want us to bring these slave owning Southerners to justice. Our trip so far has been constant calamity, and Rabbit seems to be having his way with us. We were joined by some smoothtalking freshly laundered gunslinger, who thinks he is out to tame these Southern criminals by his lonesome. Then some bootheeled idiots decided to rob the train. I am sure they are telling their Creator of their regret at this choice because we dispatched the 4 that tried to break into our car with all the fury of our kind. It could have gone poorly for us as Father Sun was still burning brightly and would certainly have ended us had we not all kept ourselves awake and waiting for them with some ill gotten wares. After the Irishman and I patched up our door, we thought all might run smoothly, but on our way out of Cheyenne, some of my more savage human kin (no real relation beyond our common complaint against the white man) were Rabbit touched and amused themselves by storing their buffalo upon the tracks. After an unwholesome twisting and turning of our conveyance, we set forth to have a nice conversation with them about this disruption to our plan.

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Ashes In My Wake
Emma Graves

The high and mighty saw fit to change the plans again. Instead of the Ventrue accompanying us we’ve acquired some fancy-dressed fool.I just couldn’t wait to get out of that shithouse called Chicago, so I didn’t raise a fuss when the pearl-clasped gunslinger strutted into the car. He’s the charming type, alright, down to the proud smile and perfectly fixed hair. All his steel’s got a shine to it, all his leather’s got polish. Most of those types aren’t good for a damned thing when the lead starts flying, can’t sweet talk a bullet. In the course of our trip a few things have happened. I’ve come to realize that all three of them are shameless thieves. Their greed gives me no great concern only because I haven’t much to steal. I’ve also gained a bit of respect for each, they seem not entirely useless when things get heated. An unfortunate Leper thought it a good idea attack me in the trainyard, and I then put both clawed hands through his innards and rooted around until he was little more than slimy ash on my duster. There was something truly satisfying to putting an end to him, the only thing that bothered me was having to wash my coat off in that muddy water. While I’m not particularly attached to material things the lessons in propriety that my mother taught aren’t lost to me entirely. I’d prefer to not look wholly like a savage, Hell even the indian Edo’ha has formal attire, in a sense. The bandits made for a serious inconvenience, though they paid for it in blood. The elephant rifle came in handy despite my jabbing at Nathan about it. As we’re dislodged from the tracks I can’t help but think about everyone else bouncing round the inside of these big metal cans, and just how poorly they’ll fare with the indians. I’m going to give them a scare so bad their shitheel grandchildren will have nightmares about wolves.

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Cowboys and Indians

One would think that a heavily armed – and armored – locomotive would be a deterrent to being waylaid on the road. Apparently, however, it is not.

First, there was the attack by some very annoying cowboy bandits…who were promptly shot to high hell and back. They did blow a hole in the side of our armored compartment that the Red skinned gentlemen Ed and I fixed….while our other two traveling companions went about Cheyenne hunting and causing chaos. I do hope they calm themselves down once we hit Denver and cannot abide such flagrant abuses of our abilities.

Then the Injuns attacked in a most dastardly fashion. Heaping piles of dead buffalo were strewn about the tracks, causing us to derail hours from any form of civilization. After extracting ourselves from this rather unfortunate turn of events, we heard the whooping and hollering of the Indians on their little warpath. This should get interesting.

-Nathraichean

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Rabbit almost wins
Edoha

I am here at the behest of the Heirophant, amongst this throng of food and scatterings of other hunters. The sheriff seemed polite enough but the lack of graciousness in providing passage to Denver sticks in my throat, but I have grown accustomed to the uselessness of governments in providing for their soldiers.

While preparing accomodations for my travel, I was observed by one of our kind despite concealing myself in the fabric of night. He tipped his hat to me and presented me with an offer of information in tracking our targets, and introduced himself as Mr. Worth. While I am a fan of the hunt, I am not one to pass up the assistance of others in making the task easier, and it seemed that Mr. Worth and his companion, Mr. Archibald, were offering information. It did, in fact, make the task of finding them easier as we were outwitted in a scheme that would have made Rabbit proud. I should know by now that when the white man offers help with one hand, there’s usually a knife in the other.

Mr. Worth and Mr. Archibald will prove a formidable pair with their penchant for vanishing from a fight, but the Skinner brothers are no longer in the picture, and it seems that after only one evening, we are well on our way to completing our task of bringing justice to this group of Southern criminals. The Skinner brothers were a challenge, largely because the assistance of Mr. Archibald and the brothers own unique abilities rendered the Irishman useless. Mr. Worth diverted my attention while the brothers went after the plainspoken prairie girl. Some well placed shots from my bow, the girl’s claws, and a knife attack from Irishman dispatched one of the Skinner brothers, but then things went badly as the remaining brothers went mad with grief, and I had to remove myself from the purview of the group or risk having my head blown off. As the Irishman ran, the brothers beat the girl into submission. Some well placed shots from my bow incapacitated another of the brothers, releasing the Irishman from his terror, and we had soon dispatched the third. We were pleased at still having one of the brothers to bring in for questioning, but that is when Mr. Archibald reappeared and put that opportunity out of our hands, only to have Mr. Worth hide him immediatley afterwards. We were left with three ash piles, some clothing, a bit of cash, a teddy bear, and a poster for a saloon called the Grizzly Rose.

The sheriff, though pleased that we had brought an end to 3 of the 12, was less than forthcoming with rewards and made us haggle for a train ride and a place to stay when we hit Denver. My companions were more upset by this than I, for my dealings with white authority – live and dead -usually have resulted in rewards that are worth far less than the effort expended to gain them. We await a fourth member of our hunting party, and then we shall head off into the West in search of our remaining prey.

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The Most Dangerous Game
Emma Graves

These Southern Lords seem possessed of the same pompous hubris that the Old Man was. Oh, how I can’t wait to give them what’s coming to them. I was happy to lay down one of their ranks, and work on a second. Sadly, my mind got cloudy as my anger rose and I didn’t take the care I needed to ensure I’d last the fight. A useless lot these suckers beside me seem. One freezes and runs for the door, the other disappears. I’d rather work alone, to be honest. I’m used to it, and I know not to rely on anyone’s help. Had they not been there, I’d have taken flight and run. The important part is that we’ve already put three of them to bed and didn’t even have to travel to do it. The jackass that gave me the bounty seemed to take notice of how quick we got it done, but it took a little convincing. I’m so damned tired of it, these city suckers and their attempts to look refined. Like they’re not monsters that just know how to preen and smile. I can’t wait to be rid of this city, it reeks of piss and iniquity. I’m still sore from the beating I took earlier, but it’s not like I’m not used to being kicked around. It’ll heal up, given a bit of time and a mess of blood.

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