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Deadlands: game journal

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Deadlands: game journal

Post  AllHailZod on Wed Feb 13, 2013 2:10 am

Seeing as this place is pretty empty (c'mon writers!) I'll throw up my session summaries for my real life rpg experience with Deadlands. This hasn't been proof-read and no particular style was intended for use so grammar-inclined may wish to fortify themselves with alcohol first.

Wild Jack had been called many things in his time; hero, murderer, damn nuisance and outright crazy bastard. Jack didn't know too much about that 'cause Jack only really had ears for the other voices, the ones riding him like a wild-man riding a crazy horse; tellin' him to do things and things about the world a man didn't need to know. The liquor helped, sometimes. That and shootin' things. Hitting things worked too, but mainly drinkin' and shootin'. Sometimes shootin' and hittin' and drinkin' were all required, Jack was a natural at multi-taskin'.
Take fer instance his current situation; not too many people had the stones to walk atop a movin' train, leasts of all one made out like some hellish iron rattler, while it was runnin' at full tilt down a rough line. The secret, as Wild Jack had discovered years ago, was to maintain equilibrium at all times. And so here he was now; perfectly balanced, with his cold-iron in one hand and a half-bottle of moonshine in the other with the account of the bottle in his gut to keep him grounded. 25 yards away, a cactus exploded and rushed away as quickly as it had arrived. You couldn't drink a cactus, and believe you, me, Wild Jack had tried.

Reverend Lucifer Callahan sat still, at peace. The train bucked and screeched under it's load and the sound soothed the preacher; the contraption was an infernal abomination against His laws, powered by man's desire to usurp the natural order of things but it served it's purpose well. Rev Callahan would ride Beelzebub and all his host of demons bareback into the very mouth of Hell itself if that was possible, anything to bring his own brand of righteousness to a land sorely in need of His judgment. Past lives flashed by Lucifer's mind as he sat in silence, there had been a time when where he walked the very earth itself had burned with his passing. Whole towns had screamed and the coyotes had howled in anticipation of the feast the next morning, those were the old days, when Lucifer Callahan had yet to find his peace, His peace, to be more accurate. Sometimes the stiff, white collar around his neck chafed against the twisted scar-tissue that reached it's claws up from beneath his cassock but that was good too, it brought His Will into sharper focus.
Feeling the need to refresh himself, the preacher pulled out His book, the pages long since dog-eared to a fuzz from excessive use, the words all but worn down to soft edges from a hard gaze demanding them to give up their meaning again and again. The single, glaring bullet hole that ate through all but revelations didn't mean nothing; Lucifer didn't need them words to know what was required of him. Every time he saw the hole he was glad that the bullet had hit him in the back, rather than the front; otherwise the shot might have gone all the way through His book thus ruinin' a very fine ending.

Ruby Watson sighed as she looked out at the dusty vistas around her. Towering spires of rocks and painted mesas were nothin' more than another pile of stones not worth spittin' on. Why couldn't more people make an effort to make the West more livable. Ruby had heard of big cities on the coast but hadn't seen them personally, the way the tin-horns traveling aboard the steamboats spoke made them sound awful fancy and excitin'. One day she just knew she'd have to go there herself and see the lights and all the hullabaloo. Problem was, some folks, a lot of 'em to be honest, just plain needed killin' or at least taken in for a nice fat bounty, in a perfect world both of these could happen at the same time and Ruby just loved a perfect world.
Twirling a bowie knife between her dainty fingers, the young woman sighed heavily and rested her cheek against a callus-free fist, the incongruous heavy blade floated around her hand like the worlds most dangerous butterfly. Some people just didn't have to good decency to run to inneresting places. Who in their right mind would run by Varney Flats? Only a most inconsiderate fellow of the highest order would make a lady work so hard for such small gain but you had to have standards and a work ethic or no-one would take you seriously.

Ebenezer Bezelbaum woke screaming. This fact has little relevance in the grand workin's of the universe but explains a lot about the more personal part of it that is Dr. Eben B. Phd.
Ebenezer glared balefully at the roiling landscape before him, his red-rimmed, burning eyes gummed at the corners from lack of sleep. Those fools back in Chicago were to blame, them and their damn meddling ways! Everything had gone wrong! They were meant to be amazed at the breakthroughs he had made, ecstatic over the potential applications of his theorems! Ghost rock was the future, everyone knew this to be fact. Solid, unavoidable, incontrovertible, rock-solid fact. So many had made untold fortunes on steam-wagons and other mundane applications of the fantastic, no-one had even begun to consider the possibility of direct application of modern science in a medical field. It should have been a triumph, but instead there had only been that horrid silence of a dozen small-minded, accusatory stares!
The next day his lab had been raided, his experiments destroyed, his journals consigned to the incinerator of mediocrity. Eben was smart enough to know when it was time to move on, smart enough to know not to make a scene. Genius was often considered a threat by those not ready to receive its enlightening touch. There would be time enough later to show them the error of their ways, to bring the truth to them that would deny it. Eben grinned to himself, a rictus of feral joy. Lord above, though, it would be a glorious day!
A gurgling and wholly unnatural gibbering burbled out from beneath the reinforced cage bolted against the far wall of his personal lab, Eben sighed.
Horatio needed feeding again.
* * *


On their way to the veritable metropolis of Varney Flats, the party stop their train at Barlowe Station. Ebenezer Bezelbaum goes into the station to drop off the mail bag, and finds…nothing. No one is in the station.

Saloon-girl-turned-gunslinger Ruby Watson, her suspicions aroused, searches outside and finds some…odd tracks leading towards the station master's shack. Deep claw-marks scratched into the locked door put the party on their guard. Ruby quickly and deftly picks the lock. The Reverend Lucifer Callahan - whose attention was presumably elsewhere - charges the (unlocked, open) door, making a Grand Entrance.

Examination of the station master's two-room shack reveals that the bedroom is in a terrible state. Furniture destroyed, window broken, bullet holes in the wall and blood on the floor…blood that someone or something has lapped at like a cat.

More tracks lead from the bedroom to the outhouse, but before Ruby and the Doc can check it out, Wild Jack bolts past them, making for the outhouse with an intensity matched only by the chili in last night's vittles. While experiencing the ecstatic sensation of equalising pressure, Jack notices a powerful smell. Even more powerful than Jack's egesta. Jack looks down.

Yes, there at the bottom, floating in the feculence are the mortal remains of the stationmaster. The Reverend and Jack face off over whose job it is to pull the poor dead guy out of the crapper, while the Doc goes back to the train and constructs a highly specialised pincher arm for extracting corpses from lavatories.

After receiving an eyeballin' from Wild Jack that would make rocks weep tears of blood, Lucifer cracks and lowers himself into the bowels of the earth. Between the two of them, Jack and the Reverend end up covered in crap. No sooner had they extracted the late stationmaster from his undignified resting place, Ebe' proudly arrives with a mechanical extendin' corpse-extractin' clamp. Just because he's a class act and a straight-up kind of guy, Wild Jack slaps the Doc's shoulder to congratulate him on his genius and expert timin'. Jack cunningly turns the shoulder slap into a hand wipe, thus somewhat cleanin' his hand and earnin' the undyin' enmity of the Doc.

The Doc conducts a thorough investigation of the rinsed-off remains, and finds that the body is covered in rat bites, but that they don't explain the body's withered and bloodless condition. Meanwhile, Ruby rescues a tired old mare from the barn, while the Reverend takes the opportunity to stock up on ambulatory bacon. He also collects the Doc's discarded jacket.

The party climb back onto their train, united in their hope that Varney Flats has a good laundromat.
* * *


"Varney Flats, Population 113 89 52 40"

With a piercing scream of its whistle, the Sidewinder, Doc Bezelbaum's pride and joy, pulled into Varney Flats. The Doc had, at first, enthusiastically showed off the embossed rattlesnake curled around the engine itself, outlined the modifications he had personally designed to increase its efficiency and pulling power but the outright hostile glares he had received from his passengers and curled the toes in his boots. Reverend Callahan had growled at the sight of it, his colorless eyes boring holes through Eben's Godless soul. Wild Jack had stared at it for two shakes of a dead cat, shrugged and spat a huge gob of phlem at the world in general and then started swigging from the inexplicably bottomless liquor bottle he always had with him and Ruby had sniggered and commented that Eben must be compensating for something. The scientist had retreated to his carriage and had sulked for days afterward.

The unusual train drew some curiosity from the townsfolk but most seemed to have other things on their minds. One by one, the posse slouch from the train; Wild Jack making a bee-line for the closest watering hole, Ruby to the local establishment and Eben taking responsibility upon himself to inform the Marshall about the gruesome discovery at Barlowe Station.

Doc Eben learns that there's some frisson in town; some buffalo hunter has done killed some local folk and there's a rope party on the breeze. The Marshall himself has gone missing leaving his yeller Deputy to pull in the slack. The Deputy, an accountant in a previous life, makes the offer of $100 to the new comers to keep the peace until a judge can come and trial the man; as much as the locals want to see the hunter dance the air fandango, that ain't the Law. Eben assures the Deputy that he travels with exceptionally skilled individuals, a certain Mr. Jack well regarded on the other side of the Mississippi river for his tact in resolving hostile situations.

Wild Jack, true to his reputation, starts drinkin' the town dry, beginning with the first bottle he can get his hands on. With one third of a bottle of the local fermented horse piss under his belt, he joins the local card game for a friendly wager and while he doesn't lose, he doesn't make his fortune neither.

Ruby walks into the local cathouse and spies the true power behind the institution; a lady of reputation above reproach. After brief introductions are made, Ruby enquires whether any 'work' is available. The madame raises an eyebrow as if to say, 'Honey, there ain't work in this town for the both of us.' Ruby accept the drought and heads back out to meet back up with the posse.

Eben visits the local general goods store and meets Mr. Varley, the soul of the town. Varley explains the local situation better and desires a resolution be made with the buffalo hunters as they are disrupting the town's workin's. The fact they are killing folks isn't looked upon too kindly neither. A hostile resolution is no good 'cause the hunters bring lots of dinero to Varley Flats. Ebenezer assures Varley that he travels with Wild Jack, a famous diplomat widely known for his ability to resolve situations peacefully.

As the day runs on, the posse are refreshing themselves at the local bar and trying to decide whether to take the Deputy up on his job offer. Eben tries to coach Wild Jack into pretending to be a respectable citizen.
Lessons include: 'Not killin' folks' 'Not shootin' folks out of hand' 'Delayed gratification.' Wild Jack fails to understand the concepts mentioned.

All of a sudden, Varley comes into the bar and starts whipping the group into a frenzy. Cries of 'doing good for the community!' are heard all along the bar. Ruby begins to entertain the crowd, attempting to encourage Varley to have a drop or two himself so's to make him more pliant. Wild Jack and Eben nip out to receive deputizing for fun and profit. Ruby tries to pull the ol' fake a drink but Varley watches her like a vulture, it's a good indication that Varley isn't fooled at all. All of a sudden, the saloon doors burst open, revealing the stark silhouette of Preacher Lucifer Callahan! With a glare to melt rock and a voice you can sharpen steel on, Callahan starts chewing out the proto-lynch mob about their heathen view on justice and how He feels about it. Knowing the peril she's in, Ruby covers her legs and rolls over the bar to avoid getting some God screamed at her. With all the speed of a lizard running into it's hole, she flees out the back.

As the tirade continues unabated, Jack, Eben and Ruby get deputized. Ruby has a word with the buffalo hunter to determine his innocence. He casually comments that he killed a woman who refused his romantic overtures and that when gets out he'll kill Ruby too. Jack admits to the Deputy that he hates the law and everything it stands for, not that it's personal but he'll kill everything that tries to inflict authority over him. The accountant/deputy promptly turns his bladder inside out. Eben hears a sudden human scream out in the dark and bravely suggests that someone else investigates. Ruby volunteers and under Eben's encouragement takes Jack too.

The two intrepid gunslingers venture out into the dark and hear the scream again, louder and closer. Looming out of the dark comes the grim shape of a train, the scream is it's whistle. All of a sudden the shadows grow darker and the night turns cold. As the train pulls to a stop, Ruby suddenly starts shaking in her boots and squats down under a bush to hide. Wild Jack looks around and discovers he's alone, with a shrug he starts slouching back to the jail when the spook-train's carriage door slams open.

AND 30 SCREAMING, BLOOD-STARVED VAMPIRES POUR OUT

Ruby freezes, the vampires all but swarm by her, one sniffs the air so close to her she could slap it. Failing to detect her, it slopes away into the town, joining it's companions breaking down doors and leeching townsfolk. Eben takes one look at the horde and a small part of him dies inside. Gibbering to herself, Ruby sneaks onto the Sidewinder to arm herself with all the guns aboard. Clanking like a bathtub full of horseshoes, Ruby starts heading back to the jail only to get accosted halfway there.
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Re: Deadlands: game journal

Post  AllHailZod on Thu Feb 14, 2013 11:45 am

The inside of the bar had taken on an unreal quality, the lights were a little too harsh on the eye, the warmth of two dozen sweaty, uncomfortable bodies lending the atmosphere a corral-like air.
"Do not judge, lest ye be judged! And by being judged, ye shall be found wantin' in His eyes! Y'all be plunged into eternal HELLFIRE! for your sins!" Father Callahan had hit his stride several hours ago; the heat in his eyes and voice had long since passed boiling point. After 4 hours of preachin' the good word, the rabble in the bar had reached that delicate state of mind where a God-fearin' person could leave an impression like a red-hot brand in butter. A sudden chorus of unholy screams interrupted the preacher's flow. As one, the occupants of the bar turned as look out of the windows into the impenetrable night; the once painfully bright lanterns now seemed weak, the shared humidity turned to a communal cold sweat. Rather than be daunted by this inconsiderate interruption, Father Callahan was spurred on to even greater fervor. "The devil has come, sinners! He's come to drag your filthy souls to HELL! This is His way of offering you redemption, turn from the path of evil tonight or burn for eternity!" Without waiting to see the effects his words had on his flock, Father Lucifer Callahan leapt from his pulpit on top of the bar and sprinted out into the night, his eyes flashing with zeal.

Ruby's breath steamed out into the night, runnin' for all her worth back to the lights of Varney Flats, back to safety. Weighed down by her guns and Jack's rifle made it tough going, it was harder to make ground and the lights took way too long to get any closer. A darker shape loomed out of the night, a gagging gravestink clung to it. Hissing through bared teeth, the thing grabbed onto Ruby and started biting at her gut. With a shriek of horror at feeling sharp teeth gnawing through her corset, the girl swung Jack's rifle into the dead thing, a meaty smack telling of a solid hit but the beast kept on coming without pause. A crack broke the night and the vampire's head twisted around, the sharp shard of a broken spur of whalebone going clean through it's jaw. With a snarl of frustrated hunger, the creature drove it's unholy claws through the ragged tear it had made and, just like that, snuffed Ruby's light forever.

An ear-shattering report echoed around Varney Flats, the vampire staggered back, a ragged hole in it's shoulder and Ruby's limp body fell free and crumpled to the dust. Wild Jack advanced, his smoking six-iron an extension of his murderous will. Turning to face this newcomer, the undead horror hunkered down and prepared itself to attack. It's movement completely unhampered by the wound.

A cold, sanctified light exploded nearby causing the vampire to freeze in sudden indecision.
"Begone, creature of the night! Flee from this place, you have no power here!" Lucifer Callahan strode towards the fatal melee, unarmed, unafraid and surrounded by a glowing nimbus of light; his voice ringing like a bell, his face impossible to look upon. With a defeated shriek, the vampire fled into the darkness without looking back.

Wild Jack arrived next to a crouching Father Callahan; Lucifer had arranged her in a position of peace, her bloodless hands folded over the mortal wound to her stomach, a shining cross of oil gently daubed on her forehead as the preacher whispered last rites.
"In nómine Patris et Fílii et Spíritus Sancti. Amen." Both men regarded the broken woman below them for a moment, their thoughts their own. With no light of life in his eyes, Jack raised his peacemaker and added his own benediction to the preacher's.
"Amen, padre."
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Re: Deadlands: game journal

Post  AllHailZod on Thu Feb 14, 2013 11:47 am

Hell had ridden into Varney Flats and Death himself rode at it's head; the saloon had become a charnal house; frenzied silhouettes reaved within, panicked screams and inhuman howls of joy mingled together blocked out near all other noise. The saloon's windows and curtains had been sprayed with blood and some hellish beast wearing the skin of a human stood at one window, licking it clean for all its worth.

Wild Jack and Father Lucifer Callahan hammered at the door to the dark and silent jail. Any evidence of life within had been extinguished like a snuffed candle.
"Open this door, you yeller bastard!" Jack hissed through the keyhole while Father Callahan watched impassively as the sinners of Varney Flats met their maker. A wild eye pressed up against the keyhole from the other side and Jack recognised Ebenezer on the other end, not in the best state of mind.
"How do I know you're not one of them?" His furtive gaze swept from the gunslinger to the preacher, trying to determine their state of health and mind, if any. Jack's peacemaker pressed against the keyhole and Eben could smell the gunpowder that still clung to the weapon.
"Cause I'll blow your head off if'n ya don't."
"You make your case quite succinctly, step into my parlor."

Inside the jail, a few threadbare blankets had been hung over the windows to block any light from escaping, even so the only illumination was a lantern turned very low on the sheriff's desk; providing scant light for the scientist to work by. A semi-dismantled rifle lay across the Sheriff's desk, pinning down a roughly sketched schematic. Tools lay scattered around the piece, a stiff leather-wrapped tube and an upturned iron milk jug half filled with some eye-watering substance sat next to it. Eben sat down at the desk and resumed from where he had obviously been interrupted, his hands moving with a surety that his rapidly blinking and tired eyes didn't reflect. Wild Jack frowned at his peacemaker as he reloaded it's empty chambers.
"Tough bastards, ain't they?" Bezelbaum paused in his tinkering for a moment,
"They still rely on a central nervous system, removing the head or destroying the brain should slow them down."
"Well, no shit, Doc. That works fer everything." With a practiced spin, the gunman holstered his revolver and reached for the buffalo rifle he kept as long-range backup. With a loving hand, he gently wiped away a few flecks of Ruby's blood that dulled the barrel.
Revered Callahan turned a chair to it's back and dropped a knee onto one of it's legs, the splintered end a jagged threat of pain.
"A stake through the heart is the traditional cure for a curse like that."
"And fire, lots of fire is good." Ebenezer finished his work on the rifle, attached one end of the leather tube to the modified loading slot in the side, the other to the milk- lid which was rapidly twisted onto to can itself. The scientist pumped the lever he had somehow fused to the lid for all his worth for a few minutes, his breath beginning to grow heavy from the unaccustomed exercise. Slotting a small chip of black stone to a protruding arm which took light from the lantern readily enough, the ghost rock sliver started weeping an opaque mist and moaning ethereally to itself. Wild Jack and Revered Callahan watched this performance with grim finality, the man had obviously lost his mind long ago. Jack's eye twitched; maybe it was better to put Eben down now before things got out of hand, the preacher too, he was starting to get on Jack's nerves.
"We need to get them where they're most concentrated, you know. We need to burn the saloon down with as many of them inside as we can." Reverend Callahan scowled at Eben
"There may be survivors in there, I will not have the innocent killed out of hand! I'm going to make sure you don't slaughter any women or children with your godless actions." Jack spat voluminously onto the scuffed floorboards.
"You boys going out there? You're funeral." Eben pulled a cigar out from the Sheriff's desk and ran it along his nose appreciatively, holding it between his teeth, he placed the tip against the ghost rock and puffed the end to a tiny inferno. Revered Callahan helped himself to another cigar and the doctor obliged him with a light. The two took a moment to enjoy the flavour, Eben glanced sideways at his unlikely companion.
"You ever doubt yourself, sometimes, preacher?" Lucifer reached into his cassock and pulled out the largest silver cross Eben had ever seen in his life, it had been sharpened to a murderous point.
"Never, it's a matter of faith."
Outside, the screams in the saloon had entirely died away, the nauseating sounds of animalistic chewing and snapping of cartilage telling a horrific story within.
"I'd say they're fresh outta distractions, you boys'll look pretty tasty with your heads all still attached and all." Jack sniggered, it was not an inspiring sound.

Reverend Callahan opened the door and squinted out into the darkness, the tiny flame on Eben's rifle providing no illumination at all. Here and there, darker silhouettes lurked in the darkness. A thunderous boom made Eben jump, his finger spasming on the trigger, the rifle burped and a gout of fire burned into the night sky almost singing the reverend in the process. In the near distance, a vampire's head exploded with a brief shower of dead meat and the silhouette dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. Inside the saloon, all noise ceased, the forms inside standing as one to regard the men outside.
"Wun, better start running, boys. I like my bait wriggling!" Jack sniggered again, as he cracked his rifle open and dropped another round into the breach.

Ebenezer couldn't rightfully recall what had happened next, there had been a whole lot of screaming, on his part if no-one elses, as the vampires had rushed the jail. He had sprayed burning death over at least three vampires at some stage, their dead flesh igniting like candles, his eardrums were ringing from Jack's gun as he had methodically reloaded, aimed and blew smoking craters where heads used to be. Reverend Callahan had been assaulted from the very first, as dead hands tried to bear him down and broken, jagged teeth snapping at his throat as the wiry reverend held him off with desperate strength. The preacher had called on his faith again, the pure light driving the abominations back only for another to resume the attack a lot of light in the dark. At one stage a vampire had bitten into Eben's gut, only by a desperate twist did the scientist manage to avoid getting his intestines gnawed from his body. Only the steady 'THOOM' of Jack's gun and his tally count of "two, three," as he reloaded spoke of how little time had actually passed; their ill fated foray had lasted only as long as it took them to get back into the jail.
The inside of the jail was mercifully empty of undead monsters. Jack had pulled his rifle from it's resting place against the barred windows, the vampires had advanced too closely to safely stand too close to them without risking a raking claw to the face. The door to the jail bucked violently as an inhumanly strong force battered against it from outside. Despite the danger, Father Callahan drew his revolver and fired it out the front window into the figures outside, the heavy round taking its target's head off. Two more creatures approached the door to resume the assault but fell away screeching as Eben's flamethrower reduced them to charred meat.
"We can do this, all we have to do is hold out until daybreak. They can't get through the walls." Ebenezer felt his heart flicker slightly with renewed hope at the glimmering chance of survival, outside a vampire cocked it's head for a moment, either hearing Eben's statement or coming to a simultaneous conclusion. With a horrific celerity, the figure bounded towards the jail and leapt, vanishing out of sight. The gut-freezing sound of a body landing heavily on the roof was almost immediately followed by a frenzied scratching at the wooden roof. Outside, the remaining vampires took note of the successful assault and one by one, joined the attack. Eben shrunk in on himself as the combined fury of Jack and Callahan's gazes descended on him.
"Well, shit."

In the brief reprieve, Father Callahan had whispered a benediction and the light of God had gently illuminated the interior, Eben had been stunned to see the wound in his gut miraculously re-knit; the phantom pain of the trauma lingered but the flesh was completely renewed. Using his own more mundane skills in first aid, Eben fixed an expert bandage around Callahan's wounds. The sound of scratching overhead intensified at an alarming rate and with a protest, a heavy beam was violently ripped from it's housing and the posse found themselves looking up into space.
"I could probably get a couple of them before they came through," Ebenezer waved the barrel of his flamethrower at the widening hole, a calculating expression on his face.
"Then we'll be dodging burning logs for the rest of the night." Wild Jack wasn't keen on the idea.
Father Callahan's fiery gaze fell on the spare cell and noted the reinforced cage with it's sturdy lock, it was far better than nothing. Ebenezer followed the preacher's gaze and nodded in agreement, Jack shook his head.
"Those things ain't safe, we got no line of retreat."
"We got no retreat now, I'd rather some bars between them and us. We'll blow 'em apart 'fore they can get through to us."
Grabbing Jack with one arm and the boot of the deputy in the other, Father Callahan dragged the two into the cell, one protesting all the way, the other leaving a damp trail on the ground.
"Coming, Doc?"
"Just one moment! It's no good locking us in if they can get us out!" Ebenezer ran over to the Sheriff's desk and rummaged through the drawers, he pulled out the spare set of keys to the cells and retreated to the cell just as the first vampires started squeezing through the roof.

The creatures landed silently, like cats, their eyes banked embers in the gloom. The first to land, a petite young lady with a tattered dress and bonnet flicked her gaze to the condemned buffalo hunter in the closest cell and grabbed the bars with delicate hands tipped with twisted, vicious claws. The sounds of the vampires hissing and laughing was bad enough, the sound of stout iron moaning in pain as it was bent open was in all ways much, much worse.
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Re: Deadlands: game journal

Post  AllHailZod on Sat Feb 16, 2013 12:15 am

(Ruby is ret-conned back into existence after we inform her that she could have avoided the lethal damage using an in-game system that we were unfamiliar with at the time. Oops!)

While the posse are locked in the jail, the remaining vamps rip open the buffalo hunter's cell and escape with him into the night, As the vampire train starts pulling away, Eben throws some pigments into a specially modified bullet that will leave a trail and instructs Callahan to shoot the departing train, they'll track it in the daylight.

A quick inspection of the bar reveals that nothing but minced-meat remains. Wild Jack and Ruby busy themselves searching for all the silver they can find; Jack by extracting teeth, Ruby via extracting candlesticks and other valuables, a grand sum of 2lbs of silver is located in all. Any gold discovered is useless as a weapon against the undead and so is discarded into pockets and whatnot.

Callahan douses the bar and bodies in alcohol in preparation to a fiery consecration.

Eben checks on his train, all is well.

As Wild Jack and Ruby extend their search to the rest of Varney Flats, Callahan discovers 15 survivors in the church, a quick shakedown for the 'greater good' adds an extra 7lbs of silver to the kitty as the townsfolk turn out their pockets. The posse arrange an extra carriage to be attached to the sidewinder so they can extract the survivors. Eben is against the idea of having a whole passel of civilians on his train but is sweet-talked by Ruby.

As Eben melts down all the silver to make bullets, Jack suggests a flaming bullet using match-like technology and commissions the professor to develop this new ammunition for $50, Eben decides that it is a worthy scientific endeavor and hastily pockets the money. The scientist stays up all night working on the special ammunition, preferring the monotonous task of casting bullets to the terrors of sleep.

The posse head out the next morning to do a quick search of the buffalo hunter camp, finding only so much more meat. A close farmhouse reveals the sheriff's gun, half empty and a discharged rifle. A mass of familiar tracks tell the story of the vampires raiding here too.

Returning to the carriage, they discover that Eben is an exhausted wreck, the scattered remnants of many cups of coffee telling of his state of mind. Ruby tries to sedate the scientist but his overloaded systems resists all attempts to slow it down. He proudly displays his new 'Bezelbaums' aka fire rounds that burn on impact, just the ticket for vampires or anything else for that matter! Everyone grins as they are loaded out with a full complement of silver and incendiary bullets.

As the sidewinder pulls away, we learn that Varney Flats is burning to the ground, Callahan arranged for the townspeople to torch the town due to the threat of vampire's corruption.

Fortunately the tracking round works as planned and the chase is afoot! Wild Jack is an absolute demon stoking the furnace, the train moves at an unprecedented speed! Unfortunately, Eben is too tired to function correctly and misses a turnoff. A quick inspection reveals that the most intelligent person among the passengers is a kid, Eben recruits him as an assistant train driver. Jack is lured away by Ruby who tells him that someone is bad-mouthing him. Being unable to find the culprit, Jack finds a young lady to knock boots with.

Time rapidly passes, the kid doing a fine job of managing the brake. Ruby assists in stoking the furnace as Callahan gives a resounding speech to the survivors who have developed a 500 yard stare by this point. As night slowly approaches again, the vampire train appears ahead and the posse move in for the kill.
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Re: Deadlands: game journal

Post  AllHailZod on Sat Feb 16, 2013 12:19 am

The big finale is in sight; the sidewinder pulls up behind the vampire's engine as the posse consider their options. Eben pulls out some maps and points out that there is a section of track that will allow them to run parallel to their prey but the others veto it as too risky, the chance of derailment and horrific death unacceptably high. The only other option is by leaping onto the train from behind, everyone sniggers at Eben's statement to 'mount them from behind,' this is further exacerbated when the scientist pulls out leather strap-on safety harnesses.

Wild Jack, Father Callahan and Ebenezer make their way to the front of the moving train, Ruby and The Kid being left behind to manage the sidewinder's position.

The group looks down at the rapidly moving rails and are informed just how absolutely doomed they are should they fall, everyone winces but decides to go through with it. Fortunately enough, the posse manage to leap from one train to the other and make their way along the roofs of the carriages until they reach the engine where a lone figure is tending the instruments.

Callahan aims his silver and Bezel loaded pistol and shoots the zombie (for that's what it is!) in the leg, a test shot to decide a) whether the individual was alive and/or b) to determine how effective silver is. As the figure lurches to the side, it pulls the trains whistle and blows all chances the posse have of surprise. Eben grows concerned as he remembers that the traditional way to kill a zombie is by cutting the stitches binding it's mouth, fill it's head with salt and then stitch it back up. The group is decidedly salt-less at the moment. Before anyone can do anything else, the zombie lurches toward and under them and vanishes into the sleeper carriage. Callahan leaps down, followed immediately by Eben and then Jack. The scientist takes a moment to pull on the train whistle in a recognisable tune (shave-and-a-hair-cut!) and gradually the brake/slow the engine, praying that Ruby and The Kid will understand the message. As the train doesn't violently lurch forwards from impact it seems safe to assume the sidewinder is slowing as well.

Jack covers the door to the sleeper carriage with his pistol as Eben moves into position behind it. With a nod, the scientist opens the door revealing the darkened pit within. A roiling stink of rot billows out but the ever-present aura of Jack more or less ruins the effect. The rotting figure of the zombie train-driver looms out of the dark, it's hands extended to choke the life out of Eben but Jack is ready and plugs it in the heart; the Bezel round instantly igniting it into a stumbling inferno that falls between carriages, the Marshall doesn't even bother rolling damage.

Jack climbs onto the top of the sleeper as Lucifer lives up to his namesake and lobs a hastily made Molotov cocktail into the carriage, the flame rapidly spreading along the canvas draperies concealing the undead beasts within. A vampire leaps out from within the flames and takes a bite out of Eben's upper guts before succumbing to the inferno and covering the scientist in vampire ash. From the far end of the carriage, a figure leaves the blazing room and retreats to the next carriage, the sudden in-draft of air turning the blaze into a conflagration! Realizing that Jack has the right idea (in all situations involving self-preservation) Eben and Callahan follow him over the top of the (rapidly heating) carriage; the fire within making the steel uncomfortably warm.

As Eben's blood sizzles on the roof, Jack asks if anyone else can smell pork cooking, Lucifer remarks that the only thing he can smell is the 'Fire of Eternal Damnation,' how right he is…

Reaching the second carriage, Jack opens the door revealing a familiar sight; a setup exactly like the previous compartment. Figuring that consistency is the key to scientific inquiry, Eben fires a burst from his flamethrower down the hall. The screeching of vampires turning to ash is a very welcoming sound. A furtive figure feels frightened from the fierce fellows firing flaming fatality from afar, the vampire flees from the carriage and the chronicler's decent into alliteration.

(I apologize for the alliteration, I know there is never a good excuse to do so.)

Jack and Callahan scamper over the top of the carriage, the retreating vampire opens the door to the livestock carriage revealing the captured townsfolk in various states of vitality and their tormentors feeding off them. Jack grabs Callahan's dynamite and throws it along with his into the carriage, the resulting explosion reducing two thirds of the occupants into so much chunks of meat.

In retaliation the vampires assault the gunslinger and preacher, the first attack opening up the preacher's cheek before Lucifer blows the vampire away with one shot. The Bezelbaum rounds are working wonderfully! The second vampire bites off Callahan's arm before it too gets turned into an expanding cloud of ash. Jack manages to fend off the third vampire before Callahan proves the staunch opponent of evil that he is by eliminating that one too.

Father Callahan suddenly realizes that he's going to have difficulty reloading in the future…

Meanwhile, back near the middle of the train, Ebenezer is confronted with the dawning realization that he is standing between two burning carriages with an explosive strapped to his back. Jumping from the slowing train is a tempting offer but the Marshall's (aka DM's) raised eyebrow soon puts paid to that idea. Dragging his wounded carcass over the second carriage, Eben stumbles on the journey over and scorches his hand on the searing carriage roof but manages to cross uneventfully otherwise.

Back in the action, Jack fires his own pistol at a vampire, the round narrowly missing the creature's leg. Shrugging to himself, the gunslinger immediately fires a second round and blows the vampire away.
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AllHailZod
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Re: Deadlands: game journal

Post  AllHailZod on Sat Feb 16, 2013 12:26 am

With their final carriage besieged, the remaining vampires spare no time at all in throwing themselves at the posse. Jack unloads his pistol into the vampires as they assault him and Callahan who's starting to look exceptionally pale from blood-loss who gives up trying to reload his pistol one armed and instead cracks his rifle over his shoulder and loads it with his thumb, (actually with a bullet, shame on you for even thinking it!)

Eben catches up with Callahan and with expertly digs into the preachers shoulder and ties a knot in the spurting artery, something'll have to be done about that eventually. No sooner had Eben finished then Preacher Callahan is off into the fray again, wound penalties be damned!

Meanwhile two of the vampires have leaped from their train onto the sidewinder and make their way towards a furiously cussin' Ruby. With a steely eye, she vaporizes one vampire but before she can kill the last one she is set upon! The Kid, proving his intelligence, ducks out of the way. After a brief struggle, Ruby discharges her gun point blank and removes the vampire taint forever.

The posse celebrate by removing the survivors from the meat-hooks they were hung on while Eben hustles Callahan into his carriage for immediate surgery, Callahan carrying his severed arm with his good one. Locking the carriage door behind him to negate interruptions, Eben ethers Callahan and cuts his shirt to reveal the preacher's crucifix on a necklace.

Eben loses his shit, turns out when he invented the Bezelbaum a manitou (malicious spirit) got into his head and squatted out a nightmare about being nailed to a cross and burned alive. Attempts to remove the cross fail as Eben can't bring himself to touch it but manages to perform flawless limb reattachment surgery despite the distraction (critical success!)

Realizing that he may not get another 'volunteer' like this again, Eben blends a medical concoction of ghost rock-infused concentrate into the medical proceedings, his theory that it will increase bone recovery, strength and regeneration. Fortunately, this proves to be resounding success, the limb is healed back to full working order.

Unfortunately, something has gone… awry. On creating the healing elixir, Eben touched too deeply into his demon-inspired madness and infused Callahan's arm with a dormant, supernatural aspect, the consequences of which would be seen in another story!

DUN, DUN, DUN~NN!

***THE END***
Thanks for reading!


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