The last of the remaining revenants lurches toward Jones, cruel, undead hands outstretched. Two bullets scream forward, one, Gar's puncturing its cheek, the other, Jones', tearing a chaotic path from point-blank range through its mouth. Most of its head a blasted ruin, it drops to the ground.
That's it. The twelve horrors-of-the-night that were terrorizing, and moments away from destroying, a pioneer family have had the tables turned on them, and have become the destroyed.
Cutting down Revenants in the Weird Weird West
As you survey the mound of bodies destroyed by dynamite, and the last of the revenants that you just cut down, you witness one of the many strange anomalies of the Weird Weird West. The remains of the undead, before your eyes, decompose into a fine black powder, and a whistling wind comes along, scooping them airborne, and taking them away.
Up ahead, a light is born. Stepping out of her log home, and standing by the doorway, is the matriarch of the pioneer family you've saved. The cry of bullets having died down, she holds a lantern against the night, to see whatever there is to see.
"Let's do it," Gar says, as he reaches to light another cig. He looks over both shoulders and up at the nighttime sky. "Where do we start? Should we go on horseback or foot?" He glances down the ridge. Somewhere down there, some forty yards away, were their mounts.
Jones scans the scene, hoping to catch a glimpse of the one responsible for tonight's terror, but he sees only darkness. Before you trudge down the hill, to fetch your horses, you note the woman has stayed at the doorway, still shining her lantern light bright. "He'p me. He'p me, please. My husband's having the heart attack."
Being from Louisiana, Beck is familiar with the ways of Hoodoo men (somewhat). From the backwoods and deep swamps they practiced their magic, rarely, if ever, venturing too far away from their home base.
Hearing the woman ask for assistance, a thought came to him. "You know what, Jeremiah? I don't think we have to hurry anywhere to find this Hoodoo man. I think he's right here, living somewhere close." He pulls the cig from his mouth and points at the little house on the prairie. "And my hunch is that family up there knows exactly who it is. Let's go talk to them." Beck walks up the hill.
Hearing the woman's call for help, Jeremiah thinks that he really doesn't want to split up with Gar right now, but a minute or two shouldn't be that much of a risk.
To the woman. "Okay ma'am, we'll be right there."
To Gar, "Do you want to get the horses or the husband? Oh, and is there a particular story you want to use on this one, deranged or escaped lunatics, cultists, banditos, Apache or Comanche raiders, bears, wolves, or something else?"
"The horses will be fine. Come with me. There might be fireworks. If they ask what attacked them, let's go with Apaches. A bunch of young Apaches trying to prove themselves. Since there's no bodies laying around, we'll say we scared them off."
Post by vladtaltos on Nov 10, 2015 11:10:51 GMT -5
You step into the tiny log house, and see a huge man seated in a chair beside a table. His chest heaves noticeably, as he tries to catch his breath; he sweats profusely. A large bucket of water sits on the table. A boy and girl stand alongside him, worried expressions on their faces. The boy and girl hold damp towels.
Propped in one corner is the firearm you heard earlier. He was defending his home with a short, thin rifle, primarily used for hunting rabbits.
"He started having an episode when those ... those things started attacking. What on Earth were those things out there?" the woman asks, frantically. You tell her young Apache braves trying to make a name for themselves.
<Gar, make a 3/IQ+Charisma to convince her that, indeed, it was Indians that attacked their home. Jeremiah, make a 3/IQ+Medic to examine the man.>