Author: Urban Sniper

#Lore24 – Entry #187 – Supers Month II #6 – Burning Passions, Burning Buildings

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

Havin’ suffered the loss of my family as I had, and then spendin’ the last few years mostly alone in the hills talkin’ to Granny Opal and our familiars, I weren’t in no position to be offerin’ no shoulder to cry on.  Not that I could really know how to comfort whatever this woman was; I knew she weren’t exactly human by then.  I finally managed to find my voice again when I felt the prickle of ice on my skin, even through my wards, and realized she was colder than the wintery cemetery was, yet not a bit of ice stuck to her. 

She looked a mite embarrassed when she realized what she was doin’, and picked herself up, wiping at her tears, which were somehow stayin’ wet in the frigid air.  She went and sat on some poor feller’s tomb and cried some more but told me about how she’d had a fight with her husband, gotten a little drunk, and needed to be alone for a while.  Course, that sounded right normal to me, and not a word of it explained why I was standin’ in near two feet of snow in October.  Still on edge, and waitin’ for an attack of some kind, I cautiously leaned up against one of the tall, statuesque grave markers and asked her blunt-like what she was tryin’ to hide, what she was, and what she was doin’ with the weather.

It was almost like she hadn’t even realized she’d been controllin’ it then, given that look on her face.  I will admit, that was one of the few times I ever saw Assane embarrassed by the things she did.  Almost at once the cold eased around her, and the wind started to die down, though it’d take another couple of days for the cold to clear up altogether and get back to a more seasonable climate.  She collected herself from there, using a quick burst of magic to gussy up her appearance and change her clothes into somethin’ that looked more fitting for the cold.  Certainly, she was more talented with the arts than I was, cause I’d never seen the like from Granny Opal’s teachin’s. 

‘Fore I knew it, we was headed back into town proper like, her ridin’ with me on Asher.  He weren’t havin’ no trouble in the heavy snow, even with the both of us, given the little magical tricks he’d used all on his own.  By evenin’, we were sittin’ down for a proper meal at the hotel, and I was tryin’ to learn more about her, though she was bein’ just as curious ‘bout me, always leadin’ the conversation off herself and back to me.

It was durin’ our little sparrin’ match that her husband Richard would show up, and my fate were sealed.  I’d almost got her to spill the beans ‘bout what she was when her face darkened and I felt the air go cold ‘round us, her eyes a lookin’ to the doorway.  Again, I won’t be sayin’ much ‘bout appearances, cause those meant little to these two, but Richard was comin’ in like all was forgiven, but she weren’t havin’ none of it.  Weren’t long before the two were standin’ right in the middle of the restaurant and yellin’ at one another.  Didn’t take me long to figure why, cause I was lookin’ him over with my mystic sight and found the same odd nature I’d seen with Assane, only he was pure fire instead of solid ice.

Now, I never claimed to understand just how love works, nor how opposites attract; works for magnets, guess it worked for these two, but damn, they can be trouble when they get riled up.  Kinda put me in mind of a couple a spoilt children after a while.  Couldn’t have known then how right I was on that one…  Anyhow, before I knew it, Assane had slapped the shit outta Richard, and he slapped right back, then the two was a brawlin’ right there in the floor.  There was a right ton of onlookers, downright mortified most of them, cause this weren’t no proper behavior for a lady nor a gent. 

I saw the magic bubblin’ up from the pair right before it exploded, before I could do much about it.  Fire burst outta him, and ice came outta her, uncontrolled, wild, like their brand of love, I guess.  Next thing I knew, people was runnin’ and screamin’, the buildin’ was a burnin’ on one side and froze solid on the other.  Worse, the two had found their way out onto the street, and their magic was a spreadin’ all over the street.  I weren’t equipped for this kinda thing, cause I hadn’t learnt no magic that could hope to stand up to their power yet, so I just did what I could to try and get people outta harms way. 

They were like a force of nature at this point, and though it might’ve been less, I woulnd’t have been surprised if a quarter of the city was either burning or froze up.  People had already been hurt, but there weren’t nobody else who could deal with the two, so I had to make a tough choice then.  I didn’t like killin’, but I weren’t about to see a bunch of innocents get killed over a lovers’ quarrel, so Asher and I rode up after then.  I tried to reason with them, but they weren’t hearin’ none of it, even flung fire and ice my way when I got too close.  As much as I hated to, I unloaded my six-shooter into them. 

I think they were probably just as surprised by it as I was, but my improved magic bullets did the job, and the two fell dead in each other’s arms, all tragic romance like. 

I didn’t linger longer than I had to after that.  I did what I could to help fight the fires, and after a long night, I avoided the hard questions that were a stirrin’ in town and hit the first boat bound down the Ohio River, a bit shellshocked at havin’ to kill a pair like that. 

I was sleepin’ real sound from sheer exhaustion after that in my tiny cabin.  I’d gone to bed alone, Asher up on deck with the other horses, so when I awoke later on in the day, I was right surprised to discover I weren’t the only one in the bed.  I must’ve squealed right loud when I realized I had two people pressed up on either side of me, but I was even more surprised when I’d hopped out of bed and realized who they was. 

I’d gunned the pair down myself the night before, but here they was, grinnin’ at me just as alive as they had been the night before durin’ their spat, though they looked completely different now, aside from what I saw of their true forms with my mystic sight. 

“We like you; you’ve got guts, kid,” Richard had said, flashin’ a smooth smile at me.  “How about we get to know each other properly?”

I should’ve refused the offer.  Lord only knows why I didn’t.

#Lore24 – Entry #186 – Supers Month II #5 – Winter Comes Early in Louisville

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

After that hot summer down in Franklin, and a little more time spent in the surroundin’ area to make sure no more of them mongrels were lurkin’ about, I eventually drifted up north, and into Louisville.  It just so happened that fall was comin’ on hard by then, and when I say hard, I mean winter hard.  There was a cold snap came in, and it was downright wintery up there, and it was barely halfway through October; had snow in the air and everything.  Asher pointed it out to me first off:  that weren’t no natural weather pattern what had come in; it was magical.  I was downright impressed with the scale they’d managed to change up the weather, but then I started wonderin’ exactly why whoever was responsible for it had done it.  Didn’t make no sense at first glance, ‘ceptin’ to make things harder on the folk ‘round the city, till I got to thinkin’ about some of Granny Opal’s stories and lectures.  Looked like I had another monster runnin’ around to deal with, some kinda feyfolk or, Lord forbid, a wendigo.

Well, as I would soon learn, I weren’t to have no such good luck.

I restocked my supplies and got me some winter clothes first off, checked into a hotel for the first time in a good while and started to get a feel for Louisville and the arcane flows that were messin’ with the weather.  The flows of magic weren’t like anything I’d seen before.  They were subtle, mostly hidden, but stronger than anything I’d encountered before, like a true master of the arcane had formed them.  As I was tracin’ them out and lookin’ for a source, I began to wonder if I was steppin’ in on the territory of some witch more powerful than Granny Opal, cause I’d never seen even her make somethin’ like this. 

So, after a few days trudgin’ round in the freezin’ weather, with snow startin’ to pile up, I finally managed to trace down the source, which was in the Cave Hill Cemetery.  Once I’d worked out the nature of the flows, it was like a vortex swirlin’ around the place, and a cold one at that.  I was wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to figure out what could be lurkin’ in there that could be controllin’ the weather like that, what kinda creature could or would do it.

Well, when Asher and I finally made our way in, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, so I had insulated myself against cold magic and had some fiery surprises in store for whatever it was.  What I didn’t expect to find was a beautiful woman wearing a rather scandalous dress for the time, the kind you’d see in a brothel, even if it was colored more like something befitting a funeral, moping about amongst the graves, not affected in the slightest by the wintery weather.  Won’t say much about her looks here, cause, as I’d learn, how she looks from one time to another don’t much matter.  She hadn’t noticed me as I approached, too deep in her melancholy, and I strained to get a read on what she was.  She looked human at first, and for the longest time, I thought she was, but once I’d had a good long look at her with my mystic sight, I finally pierced the magic that was around her; there was a spell up to keep her from being noticed, one I’d used myself plenty of times, but there was somethin’ extra about her appearance. 

But it weren’t no illusion she wore.  I wasn’t even sure what I’d seen even then, cause what I saw didn’t make no sense to me.  It was like I saw two overlapping images that were at once the same being; one the human woman, the other a woman composed entirely of elemental ice and cold, both bound together by something else I just couldn’t put my finger on.  She must’ve finally felt my eyes on her, cause she whipped around suddenly, and the air got even colder somehow, pressing down on my wards against it like an avalanche rolling down a mountain; it was all I could do to hold them in place.  Even Asher got anxious, dancing about a bit despite himself.

She didn’t attack me outright, though, seemed more startled that I’d spotted her, really.  We stared at one another for several minutes I think, not sure what to make of one another.  I sensed her mystic sight upon me as she looked me over and saw her look of puzzlement.  Finally, I broke the ice, so to speak, and introduced myself, and that I was just inquirin’ as to why she felt the need to turn the Louisville area into a winter wonderland, and if there were anything I could do to help her out. 

Lookin’ back on it now, I suppose that was one of the biggest mistakes I could’ve made.

Before I knew it, she had burst into tears and was on her knees in the snow, cryin’ her eyes out about her lover and her getting’ into a big fight, and before I knew it, I was down there tryin’ to comfort her.  Finally got a name out of her, and it was a weird one for Kentucky to be sure, Assane.  Sounded foreign, just couldn’t guess which kinda foreign back then, not that I would’ve ever guessed it right anyway.

I certainly had no idea what was happenin’ right then, nor could I have understood exactly what I’d just stepped into, but the next few years would be one hell of a ride.

#Lore24 – Entry #185 – Supers Month II #4 – Something Worse than Man

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

With some supplies from Granny Opal’s stores, a bit of food, and plenty of powder and shot, I set out from her cabin and didn’t look back.  I wanted to see the country, see what had become of it after the war.  I was kinda an odd case at that time, I guess.  I’d had my life torn apart by the war, but I didn’t feel no strong emotions about it.  I guess my trainin’ in the arcane, learnin’ that there was a much bigger world out there that most people don’t even know about kinda put things in a whole new perspective.  Things I’d only heard of growin’ up that I thought were fairy tales were real, in some way or another, and though I didn’t know it at the time, it weren’t too long before I’d run headlong into some of them.

I’d only ever been around small towns and the hill folk growin’ up and even when I was with Granny Opal, so for all my desire to explore, I was nervous as heck when it came to dealin’ with people, and they were not shy about givin’ me the hairy eyeball.  Guess it was the fact that I was dressed like a mountain man, wearin’ leathers and hides instead of them dresses and the like that women normally wore back then. 

I was a lady out of time even when I was a youngin’, I ‘spose. 

Still, as I made my way along through the small towns and down them hills and valleys of Kentucky, goin’ from place to place, I was slowly learnin’ how to speak with folk again, though I could tell there was some serious trauma all over the place.  I’d lost count of how many wounded soldiers I’d seen makin’ their ways back home, or how many homesteads I’d come across that were abandoned or burnt out.  Weren’t none of it right, and it ought not have happened, and I don’t even think I understand exactly how it came about even to this day.

But, I’m ramblin’ on here when I need to get to my point.  It were maybe three months after I’d cleared on outta Granny Opal’s holler and I was over on the western end of the state in the flatlands, just south of Bowling Green when I first came across one of them kinds of things Granny had warned me about.  By this time, I’d managed to earn a bit of money and had won a few shootin’ contests, and had myself a pretty well-kept Colt Navy revolver and a proper gun belt and clothes (still weren’t wearin’ none of them fancy dresses, though), and I still had my trusty old Enfield and a wicked little Arkansas toothpick I’d picked up.

As it were, I came across the scene of a right tragic affair down in a town called Franklin, and a spread that had been allied with the Confederates that had seen its own brand of Union terrors.  Place stood out cause it was a unique lookin’ house, octagon shaped, and I could see the arcane energy in turmoil all over the property.  Was somethin’ much worse lurkin’ around them parts back then, cause the Veil Between Worlds was right thin there; I just didn’t know if it were cause of what happened, or if that had caused the stuff that had happened there.  I’d seen places that had off-kilter flows before, but nothin’ like this.  Didn’t take much talkin’ with the locals to learn that somethin’ was goin’ on, and it weren’t no Union troops doin’ it.  There were people goin’ missin’, and piles of bloody remains bein’ found, like people and livestock both were bein’ butchered and eaten.

Don’t know really what made me do it, just a sense of doin’ the right thing, I guess, but I decided to do what I could to deal with the problem.  Not that I was no expert or nothin’, but I reckon I could shore up the barrier and root out anything that might’ve been comin’ through.  Won’t linger too long on the nitty-gritty details here; after some huntin’, I’d learnt that it was a pack of dogmen that had moved into the area, come from somewhere on the other side through the leyline that went through the area.  Kinda like werewolves, only without the subtlety, I ‘spose.

It weren’t the brightest decision I ever made to track these things, to be sure, but I was young and dumb back then.  They knew I was a trackin’ them pretty quick, and it weren’t long before they came after me.  Musta been a good two-dozen of them in that pack.  Asher and I both got one hell of a workout that first encounter, and thankfully they’d only sent half a dozen after the lone human and her horse, thinkin’ I was easy prey.  They weren’t countin’ on me havin’ magic bullets, nor on Asher movin’ faster than them.  He weren’t just no ordinary horse, after all, and had grown stronger alongside me.

After that, things got real dangerous, real cat n’ mouse kind of huntin’, and I took a few licks myself.  If you can, I’d recommend NOT getting’ bit or clawed by dogmen; ain’t a pleasant thing.  I must’ve been out there in those fields and patches of trees for a good two weeks trackin’ these things in and out of the places where they’d jump the Veil.  Each time I’d come across a portal, I’d work up the ritual to seal it off, usually havin’ to fend off another bunch of the pack while I did it.  They eventually got the hint, though, and cleared out of the territory, and I put up as strong a warding as I could in the area to bolster the Veil, though I don’t expect it to have lasted forever.  Ain’t had a chance to make it back there to follow up, cause my life would take a drastic turn after that little excursion. 

#Lore24 – Entry #184 – Supers Month II #3 – The Way of the Gun

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

The rifle I’d managed to get my hands on weren’t anything special, just an old Enfield muzzleloader that had seen a bit too much work on the battlefield.  Accurate enough for what I wanted if a bit on the “well-used” side, but not like them new fancy repeaters that were startin’ to show up.  Couldn’t get my hands on a new Springfield or no revolvers at the time either, but that’d come later on.  I’d grown up with this kind of gun anyhow, so I knew all about their quirks.  Even spending a couple years in the hills with Granny Opal didn’t affect my aim too much; a dozen shots with the gun and I was pretty much dead on target.  Not that she appreciated all my shootin’ up in her holler, and I don’t reckon Smoky liked it none either, but the meat I brought in with it made up for it, even if she might’ve looked at me like I was a little off in my head.

Still, weren’t too long after that when I started playin’ around and mixin’ my magical learnin’ with my shootin’.  Started by enhancin’ my caps so that they would always go off for one, so none of that misfirin’ for me!  Then I started messin’ with some of the divination to enhance my aimin’; before long I was nailin’ shots with that ol’ rifle that nobody on Earth had the right to make.  After that, I got the bright idea to start infusin’ some elemental energy into my shot.  First time I shot a tree with one of them explodin’ Minie balls, I was somehow impressed and terrified at the same time.  After that I toned things down a bit, makin’ a smaller charge, tryin’ some fire and ice and such.  Even tried workin’ with the power to try some kinda quick reloadin’ scheme with an elemental helper, but that didn’t work out so well.  Wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’d wind up doin’ with my guns by any stretch; I was just getting’ started after all.

One day down in town, I heard that the War Between the States was declared done and learned about President Lincoln getting’ assassinated.  Seemed like things were on the mend, but I’d learn soon enough that couldn’t be further from the truth.  Still, I got that itch to see just how things had changed since those Union bastards came in on us.  I was still raw about that, but war ain’t nothin’ great, and brings out the worst in everyone, so I wasn’t plannin’ on holdin’ a grudge or nothin’; I done dealt with those that did it, after all, and was finally startin’ to sleep full nights again without wakin’ up screamin’. 

But, that’s neither here nor there.  Once I’d mentioned to Granny Opal I was thinkin’ about explorin’ about a bit, she put me through my paces in the next few weeks, makin’ sure I had all the knowledge I could ever need.  We parted on good terms, in her cantankerous way, and I was even told I was welcome back if I ever found myself back in this neck of the woods.  I’d never make it back to her, though, and I never really found out what happened to her, but I half expect to see her show up somewhere down the line, chidin’ me for not visitn’ her none.

#Lore24 – Entry #183 – Supers Month II #2 – The Way of Magic

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

I’d learn a few things when I finally woke up and took account of where I was.  I could smell the age of the old cabin mixed with the scent of herbs and fresh-baked bread, saw that my wounds had been tended and bandaged.  It only took a few moments before I realized I was right hungry, so I eased out of bed, unsteady as I was at the time, and stepped through the open doorway into the main room of the cabin.  That was when I’d meet Granny Opal for the first time, a witch older than the hills themselves so it was said.  I’d heard the name growin’ up but didn’t ever figure the tales of a witch up in the distant hills to be fact till I saw her and she introduced herself.  She weren’t nothing like what I figured from what I’d heard about her; she looked more like the ‘granny’ of her namesake than the old crone you’d think of when you hear the word “witch”, gray hair up in a bun, plump and wrinkled with age, a little pair of glasses threatening to slip off her nose, that kind of look. 

Still, she weren’t one to mince words and dillydally about, so she told me how it was and how it was going to be for a fair sight.  As she told it, I’d sought her out on my own after a fashion now that my powers had woke up, and she was gonna teach me how not to get myself and others killed with what I could do, at least, not by accident.  I guess maybe she took a bit of pity on me then when my stomach spoke up, cause she said she’d wait till after breakfast before startin’ my lessons.  I never once questioned her ‘bout all this; just seemed right to me now that I didn’t really have noweheres else to go; I had family up north ‘round Lexington somewhere, so I’d been told, but I never met them, so they might as well not have ever existed.  I took a seat at the old table and noted all the strange things she had hangin’ ‘round her place, animal bones and sticks and beads and feathers and the like, all kinds of different arrangements, and all kinds of bottles and jugs filled with things I’d learn about later on, not all of them pleasant.  Granny Opal was a good cook, I’d say, fixed some fine bread and stew, though the taste was a little funny till you got used to it.

Once my stomach weren’t interruptin’ us from jawin’, she started teachin’ me about what had happened.  I started gettin’ images in my head of what all had happened that day as my memories came rushin’ back.  I got real close to sickin’ up right then when I remembered what I’d done, but managed to hold all that food I’d just eaten in somehow.  As she went over the basics and started learnin’ me some techniques to focus my mind and spirit and my head cleared up, I first became aware of my familiar, Asher, lingerin’ over by the fence, chewin’ on some grass.  Turns out he’d been my familiar since I’d handled breakin’ him in a couple years back, I just never realized what it was I’d done.  Now that I’d started learnin’ the ways of magic, it weren’t long before I was talkin’ to him in my head and hearin’ his voice just as plain as day.  That’s how I eventually learned he’d picked me up out in the woods, havin’ slipped outta the stables on his own once the shootin’ started, and he’d sensed Granny Opal all on his own and took me to her.

I’d be sittin’ out the rest of the War with Granny Opal, becoming an apprentice witch, I suppose.  She’d introduce me to her familiar soon enough, a big ol’ bobcat named Smoky, and though he weren’t no normal bobcat, he still put Asher’s nerves on edge whenever he was about.  I’d learn that our familiars acted as something of a buffer and a conduit for tappin’ into the magic that was all around us, though I reckon magic had started to fade away from the world a while back for whatever reason, which was why there weren’t too many of us witches about anymore.  They were also magical beings, our familiars, bonded to us for the rest of our days, though they could certainly still be killed through other means, and were that to happen, we’d lose our connection to the majority of our magic till we bonded a new one. 

I’d learn some basic control techniques, how to call upon the elements and formulate magical essence into our “spells”, and a fair bit of her herbalism and alchemy, and how to use the mystic sight, too.  ‘Course, I had to learn all them pesky rules and such about what I should and shouldn’t be doin’ with my magic, but I’ll save all that lecturin’ for somewheres else. 

We didn’t see a lot of visitors out there at Granny Opal’s cabin; not many would venture out that way unless they was in need of some of her special healin’ poultices and the like.  Everyone was downright afraid of her, really, but I figure that was more just somethin’ she spread around to keep most people away.  She enjoyed her privacy, and just tolerated me for a short spell, I reckon.  Still, she weren’t unpleasant or mean, was a good teacher, and was mostly patient with me.  I’d ride Asher down through the hills a good ways to town ever so often to pick up a few supplies that weren’t traded to Granny by her occasional visitors, and I’d pick myself up a rifle for huntin’ and such after a fair bit of tradin’. 

Granny thought I was a might touched in the head when I came back with that gun, since everything we could ever need we could work through magic in some way or another, but I just didn’t feel right not havin’ one.  Sure, I could fling rocks or manage a spurt of fire, or somethin’ else like that by then, but I don’t reckon that’d go over well outside her little holler.  Folk just weren’t gonna accept that sort of thing in the modern world.  Might actually be why magic started to fade, I guess; people just stopped believen’ in it.  I didn’t plan on stickin’ around forever, and she didn’t expect me to either.  So, I’d start playin’ around on my own, and as I’d learn, I could do some right fancy tricks when I combined my magic with my shootin’. 

#Lore24 – Entry #182 – Supers Month II #1 – An Awakenin’ Magic

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

I weren’t raised for no book learnin’, and I never figured I’d ever be writin’ this stuff down, but I guess things in life don’t always go how you figured they would.  Since I joined up with the Order, I’ve been asked by Chrona to write out some details ‘bout my past and start keepin’ a record of things, so here we are, I guess.

I was raised up in the hills of Kentucky, over on the eastern part, in a good-sized family, the hard workin’ kind that took care of a large spread up in those hills, tendin’ to the plantin’ and raisin’ animals and such, though my paw always wanted to get a proper horse farm a goin’.  Back then, I had three brothers and a sister, and though we weren’t ever what you’d call “rich”, we lived pretty good.  Weren’t nothin’ really stood out about my early life too much, ‘cept my way with horses, I suppose.  I was always good with them, could “whisper” to’em as I heard it called back then, always knew what they were a thinkin’ and how to get’em to do whatever it was I need’em to do when nobody else could.  Put my big brothers to shame a time or two, I reckon, when none of them could break a particularly spirited horse to saddle, and I could just walk up to’em and speak a few things and they’d let me on’em just as pretty as you please.

‘Course, that was before the War Between the States done got started up, and everythin’ went to Hell.  We was in a border state, so weren’t never nothin’ easy back then.  Always had to walk on eggshells ‘round people who had been close friends back then, and there was always a sense of paranoia around.  Well, things went bad for my family back then, what with my brothers signin’ up and joinin’ the Confederacy along with most everyone else ‘round the hometown.  Won’t be speakin’ much of the details ‘bout then first couple years, just a bit too personal.  It’s what came later on that matters here, cause that’s when I really opened up my gates and experienced my magic for the first time, outside of what I was doin’ with the horses.

Well, as it was, the war went just about everywhere back then, so course, it had to come home eventually.  Weren’t good to learn that two of my brothers had gotten killed, put maw and my sister and me in a right bad state when my last brother rode in damn near dead from gunshot wounds that night.  Course, we didn’t have much time to grieve or register what was really goin’ down, cause weren’t too long before that Union detachment rode up, hot on the trail of my brother.  They was lead by one of our neighbors’ sons, one who I’d been sweet on once, show’d ‘em right where we were. 

Things got…violent, then.  Words were said, voices raised, and before we knew it the shootin’ started.  I weren’t too bad with a gun back then, cause I’d been raised with’em and had to start helpin’ with the huntin’ and such, not near as good as I am now, so I don’t think some of them soldiers were expectin’ it when me and my sis fought back too.  Well, that didn’t last, cause we weren’t no trained soldiers, and they had us outnumbered by a good many.  I don’t rightly recall how exactly it all went down, just remember that my paw and maw and brother were dead, my sis was dyin’ from a shot to her gut, and I had a bullet in my arm. 

As them soldiers came inside on us, the things they said, the outright hate they were a spewin’ at us, and the things they tried to do to me…well, something done broke inside me then.  It was like a dam just exploded then, and I felt my first real taste of magic just wellin’ up inside of me as all my anger and sorrow gushed out.  I remember them soldiers who were hasslin’ my sis went first, just exploded all over the place like nothin’ I’d ever seen before.  The rest…well, it was pure chaos.  Fire, ice, stuff I’m not so sure what it was, all of it went through them Union men and spread over the homestead, but specifics are lackin’ in my mind.

After it was all said and done, I remember churnin’ up the earth and buryin’ my family after that, like that magic flow was doin’ whatever I wanted it too at the time, then remember staggerin’ off into the woods, but don’t recall how exactly I wound up where I did after that, cause all that magic what came outta me left me drained.  Reckon it was a week later when I finally woke up, not as dead as I woulda figured on bein’, in an unfamiliar cabin a good ways off from the old homeplace, no idea how I’d wound up there.

 

#Lore24 – Entry #181 – Wild West Month #30 – Those who Make the Thundering Weapons

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

Though the Kerra-Kerra have long sought not to make use of Thundering Weapons, as our lands are threatened more and more by the Many People from Beyond the Great Walls, so too must we learn to use them if we wish to keep our sacred places as they should be.  Our ways of living upon the Bitter Frontier mean that we cannot make the Thundering Weapons for ourselves, and that those who seek to do us harm will try to keep them from us.  Should you ever find yourself in battle and slay one using a Thundering Weapon, if you can, take it and its bullets with you; if you do not use it for yourself, then someone in our tribe or another will.  As such, you should be aware that not all Thundering Weapons are created equal, for some are better than others, and will see you live where a poorer weapon would see you dead.

As our people have learned, through use and conversation with those who do not seek to harm us as they explore the Bitter Frontier, be aware of the revolving Thundering Weapons that bear the mark of the young Filly.  Filly pistols are amongst the finest made, and among the most common you will find for this reason.  They are reliable, accurate, and deadly.  Their ammunition is short, marked with the numbers “45” in the common tongue.  If you cannot have a Filly, then those from “Weston & Smythe” are nearly as good, though their bullets are not always of the same size, and sometimes harder to find.  There have been many gunslingers who carry those W&S weapons which break open from the top, for they are quicker to reload, and easier to do so from horseback. 

For the hunter, the long Thunder Weapons bearing the name “Winchauster” are regarded as the best.  The make the “shotgun” like no other, for it can spread many tiny bullets far and wide.  They make them with one or two barrels, some that can even hold more than one or two cartridges.  These weapons, up close, can tear a man in half.  Never ever underestimate the power of such a weapon.  Likewise, the “Winchauster” also make the best “rifles”, the kind of Thundering Weapon that shoots bigger bullets for longer range and greater power.  Their “rifles” hold many bullets and load and reload quickly, using the lever on the bottom to do so.  There are others who make such weapons, but the quality is not the same, nor are their ammunition, which is harder and harder to find.

Special “rifles” of note are those that are very long and very heavy compared to the “Winchausters” and bear the name of “Keens”.  Sometimes you will find them with a Tube of Crystal and Brass atop them, devices that will allow you to clearly see the much further than normal, but most often not.  They use the largest of the solid bullets and are loaded one at a time from the rear.  These are very powerful, best used for hunting the largest of buffalo, and can even pierce the shells of the giant scorpions in the Great Scorpion Flats at distance.  These are rare compared to others, but highly prized.

A new kind of Thundering Weapon is becoming more common upon the Bitter Frontier now, and can be found upon the Howling Steel Chariots, and are a terrible sight to behold.  These are called the “Ripley Guns”, and they can lay waste to entire war parties, for they fire many, many rounds one after the other without need to reload.  You will know them for they have many barrels, arranged in a circle around a center tube, and are fired by turning a crank on one side.  They are mounted and stationary but are often hidden behind walls of steel, firing through smaller openings.  It is best to run when one of these Thundering Weapons is brought to bear against you, unless you are able to take out the ones firing it from cover.  We do not favor such weapons, for they are heavy and hard to carry.  Destroy them if you can, but do not risk your life to do so.

#Lore24 – Entry #180 – Wild West Month #29 – Those who Face Bullets with Swords

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

Strange are the ways of the Peoples from Beyond the Ocean Which Leads to the Lands of the Setting Sun.  Though very rare within the Bitter Frontier, sometimes you will encounter one of them, and you will know them by the long, curved swords they carry.  They are often of elven blood, though mixed usually with human, but not always, and the swords they carry are said by our ancestors to have once been favored by our own people, though the ways of making them have long since been lost to us. 

It is a unique method Those who Face Bullets with Swords use.  I have seen some of them forsake the use of Thundering Weapons altogether in my travels, while others will use them almost as often.  But more curious about their methods is their ability to use their Curved Swords to deflect the bullets fired by those wielding Thundering Weapons.  It may seem impossible, but I have witnessed this for myself.  It is not a feat undertaken lightly, for the slightest failure in their training will see them dead or dying, for one cannot see the bullet and must rely upon their honed instincts.  Their ways are as mysterious to us as our shamanic ways must seem to the outsiders, but everyone must forge their own path.

If you witness one carrying such a Curved Sword, be wary should you have to engage them in battle.  An arrow will do little good unless you catch them completely unawares, for they are much easier to predict than a bullet.  I have seen one such person split a bullet in twain with their blade, sending the halves of it into enemies on either side of them.  I have seen them deflect a full six shots from one of the revolving Thundering Weapons only to charge forward in the time it takes to blink to cut the gunman down.  I have likewise seen those who have failed in their dangerous way, receiving a lesser wound than they would have, perhaps, only to be taken out by another bullet fired moments later. 

A strange way indeed.

#Lore24 – Entry #179 – Wild West Month #28 – Gods of the Peoples Who Are Not Our Own

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

There are many gods that exist alongside our Great Mother Saressh.  I have spoken of Lashana and her followers before, of how we sometimes have our disagreements, but do not seek conflict if it can be avoided.  This is not often the case with those of other gods, for not all gods are good, and not all gods are just.  As with the Many Peoples, there are many reasons that the gods do what they do, and why they guide their followers as they do.  Always be wary when dealing with those of the other gods; you may not know their intentions, but you can keep some things in mind.

Amongst the Gods of the Peoples Who Are Not Our Own is one that you should be very cautious of, the evil god known as Malvaxor.  His ways are deceptive, preaching of healing the sick and the mad, only to make those who fall for his treatments worse, often hidden within the new Fortresses of Stone and Metal.  There have been times terrible abominations of flesh have been created by his followers, and great plagues have spread because of his “healers”.  Though the followers of Malvaxor do not recognize the Many Spirits, they are doing the work of the Reaper Spirit without question. 

The followers of Goldeneyes, the Seekers of Knowledge, may seem trustworthy, but be cautious what you may reveal to them.  They seek to know all, even that which should remain sacred and amongst only the Kerra-Kerra.  Though they say they record this knowledge to preserve it, who is to say what others may use this knowledge for?  Always guard our secrets, especially around the followers of Goldeneyes. 

Though the God of Death, Mausolus, and his followers, do not often work with the Reaper Spirit in mind, for he is a vain and prideful god, and his ways are only of benefit to him.  Those seeking the death of a specific person will often ask for his favor, the bounty killers and assassins of those with great power Beyond the Great Walls, usually, but his influence is spreading into the Bitter Frontier.

If life in upon the Bitter Frontier has taught us anything, it is that chaos is firmly in control, and this is pleasing to Old Man Entropy.  Some say he knows not what he does, for he is mad, but this is not so; mortals simply cannot fathom the true nature of his ways.  Understand that all tries to return to chaos, and this is the ultimate goal of Old Man Entropy.  It is said that he sometimes will reveal himself upon the great buttes and mesas on nights of the full moon, appearing as a great steed composed of starlight twinkling in shadow, a great horn upon its head.  Be ever cautious of such a strange vision, for it is a sign to contemplate and consider well what may come.

Chief among the gods of the Orc People of the north is Mantok Badaxe, a great warrior god who seeks to guide his people beyond the ways of the raider and barbarian.  His people upon the Bitter Frontier do not listen often to him and may have even forsaken his teachings altogether.  A rare few, however, still seek to follow his ancient ways, and it is these orcs who are often reaching out to live amongst other peoples, to learn their ways and live “civilized” lives.  If that is the path they have chosen, then so be it; be wary of them as you would be for any outside the Kerra-Kerra, but if their intentions are true, they will find their own rewards with Mantok.

It is often difficult to say where you will find followers of the goddesses Erisaya and Yurisaya, for they are as two halves of the same being, one standing in light, the other in shadow, sometimes in a temple, sometimes in the Houses of Whores and Fire Water.  Generally, they are goodly, bringing healing and their chosen forms of “love and compassion” to the world, but this often brings with it stirred passions and its own form of chaos as the hearts and minds can be swayed by their ways.  Always be careful around them, for they know well the ways of the flesh, and can say sweet words that will twist the mind as surely as any dark sorcery to sway those to their ways of thinking. 

#Lore24 – Entry #178 – Wild West Month #27 – The Land of Deadly Water that Shoots to the Sky

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

A land that is both sacred and deadly, not to be traveled by the unwary, though perhaps if the Many Spirits are willing, one who is not familiar with the region may survive their journey through it.  The Land of Deadly Water that Shoots to the Sky can be found many days to the west of the Hills of Coal, within the northeastern reaches of the Peaks Reaching to the Sky.  The land is both good and bad here, for there can be found many places where animals and plants for food are plentiful, especially around the many lakes spread around this region, but also many places that will kill without thought or mercy, for the Many Spirits are often in conflict here.

It is the spirits of the earth and water which are most often in battle within this area, and perhaps it is the spirits of fire that stoke the feuds between them.  There are parts of this land where you can find Pools of Smoking Water that Smell Foul, and though colored in beautiful ways, the water is deadly.  Not only will it boil flesh while you still live, perhaps before you even realize it, but it will also poison if cooled and drank.  Even the earth around these pools of water is not safe, for it can be thin and misleading, breaking off to dump you into the very boiling water that is hidden beneath it.  In other regions, the Many Spirts of Earth and Water make pleas to the spirits of the Air and Sky to aid against the Spirits of Fire, shooting huge streams of boiling water into the sky.  One would be wise to tread carefully when you begin to smell foul air and feel rumbles beneath your feet, and watch for the bones of animals, for they too fall prey to the battle of the Many Spirits here.

Even with the dangers here, the good parts of this land are very good, and it is shared amongst the Kerra-Kerra and the Horse People throughout the year as we roam from place to place.  In recent times the Many Peoples from Beyond the Great Walls have begun to venture into The Land of Deadly Water that Shoots to the Sky, ever seeking their shiny treasures and the dark blood of the earth.  I have seen for myself their folly in venturing unwarily through this land, and you will likely see their bones scattered amongst the Pools of Dangerous Water and in the Places Where Water Shoots to the Sky.