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dime_novel_heroFrom: Mr. Zebulon Pike, Denver, Colorado
To: Mrs. Hannelore West, Kingsport, Mass.
November 1879
Endeared Sister,
As our group left Sterling on our way back to Denver, we encountered a number of Indians who succeeded in blocking our path and separating us from Mr. Tobin who was scouting ahead. It was a very strange encounter as, even though there was a language barrier, their actions made it clear that their intention was an effort to protect us from some event that was to befall Mr. Tobin. They didn’t seem to bear Mr. Tobin any ill-will, which had me wondering which third-party might be involved. We might have forced our way through with bloody confrontation but it seemed a very uncivilized way to behave so we made it appear that we had been turned back.
Our ruse was successful as, after a time, were were able to return to our original path. It was in this that we lost track of Mr. Pace. He had seemed increasingly and uncharacteristically irritable and, had we known his intentions at the time, we would surely have kept more attentive to his whereabouts but, with the expectation that Mr. Tobin would shortly be kicking over a metaphorical hornet’s nest, we assumed that Pace was merely acting on his previously stated intentions to return forthwith to Denver without distraction.
When we finally caught up with Mr. Tobin, he was fully engaged with at least a dozen of Hellstromme's men. I could see that on the far side of the melee there was yet another of those distinctive wagons which portended the presence of an automaton. While Messrs. Bongiovi and Sombrero rode up on the right, Miss LaRue and I rode up on the left to take cover in the trees and catch the villains in the crossfire. But even as Miss LaRue took cover, I continued on as my intention was upon the wagon. It appeared to be riding low and I hoped that the machine was still inside.
Once I was in some sort of firing position, I fired my last unipolar-filing rocket through the canvas side of the wagon. I rushed down the hill to draw the rear blinds aside only to discover the wagon empty, meaning that, not only was my rocket wasted but the machine was ambulatory somewhere. The distinctive report of its Gatling gun revealed its position back on the hill where I had left Miss LaRue. Intending to confront it with the hard steel core bullets loaded in my Winchester rifle, I ran back up the hill.
On arrival, I saw that it had already taken some fire and was exhibiting the distinctive shuddering of its imminent detonation. I took cover behind a tree and, only after it had exploded, showing the area with fragments, did I have a chance to look back down the hill and see the chaos.
Mr. Tobin was there in the middle of it, with Hellstromme's men all around. But they were not engaged in gunfire with each other. There was an additional participant.
A Reckoner. Or, at least, a horrifically powerful and terrifying of presence being that rumor describes as one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. I doubt that the drug-addled mystics of the First Century who wrote the Book of Revelations saw in their visions men wearing broad-brimmed hats, leather dusters and wielding Patterson revolvers and so therefore I doubt the prognosticative abilities of ancient theologians. But, even if these Reckoners are not the harbingers of the prophesied End Times, this was a very powerful being, wearing the mantle of doom
He strode with confidence through the fray, each drop of the hammer sending another of Hellstromme's men to his grave. Those few who retained the fortitude to return fire imparted no apparent damage. Even the impact from Mr. Tobin’s pair of Walker Dragoons only seemed to irritate. The pale monster exuded and aura of palpable fear and I could barely retain my scientific and tactical objectiveness even far up on the hillside
It was then that I realized that Mr. Tobin was being fired upon from his rear quarter. On the far hillside was Mr. Pace, attempting to kill Mr. Tobin with rifle fire. To say that I was astonished would be an understatement. While the two had their differences of opinion, I had never seen any animosity that would escalate to murderous intent between the two of them. On reflection, I believe that the dark forces that had allowed Pace to perform his feats of magic and prestidigitation had gotten the better of him. It had always been my expectation that Mr. Tobin’s inner demons would have been the first to boil over and we would be called upon to take him down for our own good. I have even developed some devices to prepare for that eventuality but at the time they were back in Denver and would have done me no good.
Mr. Took a moment to turn from his duel with the Reckoner to take a shot at Pace, only to have one of his pistols explode in his hand, perhaps impacted by a round from either Pace or the Reckoner. He took a few steps to draw his cavalry saber from it’s sheath strapped to his fallen horse and rushed the Reckoner, all the while shrugging off the bullets ripping through his Harrowed-enhanced body.
The blade pierced through the Reckoner’s face and emerged through the back of his head. Were he the sort of Harrowed that we have grown used to dealing with or a Harrowed such as Mr. Tobin, he would have expired at that point, the demon driven from his body. And, for a moment, it seemed as if that’s what had happened as he stood still with his hands falling to his sides. But, rather than dropping his pistols and collapsing in a heap, he took two calm steps backwards, unsheathing the saber from his skull. Then would have been the time for Mr. Tobin to stab him again, or perhaps swing in an attempt to remove his head from his shoulders. I should have emptied my rifle into him. Astonished, we hesitated.
The reckoner holstered his pistols. Tipped his hat and vanished into a cloud of black smoke.
We gathered what we could and fled back to Denver. Mr. Tobin and Miss. LaRue had been wounded and had their horses killed. My horse had run off. Pace had apparently been wounded in the exchange and had disappeared again, perhaps South. Mr. Tobin has not stayed, instead riding off in search of Mr. Pace. The rest of us will meet with him in a few weeks in Santa Fe or Albuquerque after we have obtained a new crew for the train. Zeke and Mr. Ho, having heard of our encounter with an alleged Reckoner, have abandoned our employ and our reputation has deterred anyone in Denver from signing up. And while the assortment of ladies that Mr. Bongiovi has brought from Castle Rock are. . . enthusiastic, they are not skilled enough to drive a steam engine.
It would seem that we have captured the attentions of forces more powerful than Darius Hellstromme. But as this new threat seems more focused on Mr. Tobin, to the point where Indians are attempting to separate us for our own safety, I wonder if perhaps it might be time to disassociate ourselves from his company. And, with Mr. Pace’s turning, it may be wise to separate from the similarly possessed Mr. Tobin in a decidedly terminal fashion. I have discussed this with Mr. Bongiovi and we are in agreement. For now, we will wait and observe but we shall also prepare.
I hope this talk of proximal supernatural threat has not unduly worried you. Rest assured, I have plans in motion and tools at my disposal that should keep me safe, in so far as anyone can be safe in the weird frontier.
Endearingly,
Zebulon
To: Mrs. Hannelore West, Kingsport, Mass.
November 1879
Endeared Sister,
As our group left Sterling on our way back to Denver, we encountered a number of Indians who succeeded in blocking our path and separating us from Mr. Tobin who was scouting ahead. It was a very strange encounter as, even though there was a language barrier, their actions made it clear that their intention was an effort to protect us from some event that was to befall Mr. Tobin. They didn’t seem to bear Mr. Tobin any ill-will, which had me wondering which third-party might be involved. We might have forced our way through with bloody confrontation but it seemed a very uncivilized way to behave so we made it appear that we had been turned back.
Our ruse was successful as, after a time, were were able to return to our original path. It was in this that we lost track of Mr. Pace. He had seemed increasingly and uncharacteristically irritable and, had we known his intentions at the time, we would surely have kept more attentive to his whereabouts but, with the expectation that Mr. Tobin would shortly be kicking over a metaphorical hornet’s nest, we assumed that Pace was merely acting on his previously stated intentions to return forthwith to Denver without distraction.
When we finally caught up with Mr. Tobin, he was fully engaged with at least a dozen of Hellstromme's men. I could see that on the far side of the melee there was yet another of those distinctive wagons which portended the presence of an automaton. While Messrs. Bongiovi and Sombrero rode up on the right, Miss LaRue and I rode up on the left to take cover in the trees and catch the villains in the crossfire. But even as Miss LaRue took cover, I continued on as my intention was upon the wagon. It appeared to be riding low and I hoped that the machine was still inside.
Once I was in some sort of firing position, I fired my last unipolar-filing rocket through the canvas side of the wagon. I rushed down the hill to draw the rear blinds aside only to discover the wagon empty, meaning that, not only was my rocket wasted but the machine was ambulatory somewhere. The distinctive report of its Gatling gun revealed its position back on the hill where I had left Miss LaRue. Intending to confront it with the hard steel core bullets loaded in my Winchester rifle, I ran back up the hill.
On arrival, I saw that it had already taken some fire and was exhibiting the distinctive shuddering of its imminent detonation. I took cover behind a tree and, only after it had exploded, showing the area with fragments, did I have a chance to look back down the hill and see the chaos.
Mr. Tobin was there in the middle of it, with Hellstromme's men all around. But they were not engaged in gunfire with each other. There was an additional participant.
A Reckoner. Or, at least, a horrifically powerful and terrifying of presence being that rumor describes as one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. I doubt that the drug-addled mystics of the First Century who wrote the Book of Revelations saw in their visions men wearing broad-brimmed hats, leather dusters and wielding Patterson revolvers and so therefore I doubt the prognosticative abilities of ancient theologians. But, even if these Reckoners are not the harbingers of the prophesied End Times, this was a very powerful being, wearing the mantle of doom
He strode with confidence through the fray, each drop of the hammer sending another of Hellstromme's men to his grave. Those few who retained the fortitude to return fire imparted no apparent damage. Even the impact from Mr. Tobin’s pair of Walker Dragoons only seemed to irritate. The pale monster exuded and aura of palpable fear and I could barely retain my scientific and tactical objectiveness even far up on the hillside
It was then that I realized that Mr. Tobin was being fired upon from his rear quarter. On the far hillside was Mr. Pace, attempting to kill Mr. Tobin with rifle fire. To say that I was astonished would be an understatement. While the two had their differences of opinion, I had never seen any animosity that would escalate to murderous intent between the two of them. On reflection, I believe that the dark forces that had allowed Pace to perform his feats of magic and prestidigitation had gotten the better of him. It had always been my expectation that Mr. Tobin’s inner demons would have been the first to boil over and we would be called upon to take him down for our own good. I have even developed some devices to prepare for that eventuality but at the time they were back in Denver and would have done me no good.
Mr. Took a moment to turn from his duel with the Reckoner to take a shot at Pace, only to have one of his pistols explode in his hand, perhaps impacted by a round from either Pace or the Reckoner. He took a few steps to draw his cavalry saber from it’s sheath strapped to his fallen horse and rushed the Reckoner, all the while shrugging off the bullets ripping through his Harrowed-enhanced body.
The blade pierced through the Reckoner’s face and emerged through the back of his head. Were he the sort of Harrowed that we have grown used to dealing with or a Harrowed such as Mr. Tobin, he would have expired at that point, the demon driven from his body. And, for a moment, it seemed as if that’s what had happened as he stood still with his hands falling to his sides. But, rather than dropping his pistols and collapsing in a heap, he took two calm steps backwards, unsheathing the saber from his skull. Then would have been the time for Mr. Tobin to stab him again, or perhaps swing in an attempt to remove his head from his shoulders. I should have emptied my rifle into him. Astonished, we hesitated.
The reckoner holstered his pistols. Tipped his hat and vanished into a cloud of black smoke.
We gathered what we could and fled back to Denver. Mr. Tobin and Miss. LaRue had been wounded and had their horses killed. My horse had run off. Pace had apparently been wounded in the exchange and had disappeared again, perhaps South. Mr. Tobin has not stayed, instead riding off in search of Mr. Pace. The rest of us will meet with him in a few weeks in Santa Fe or Albuquerque after we have obtained a new crew for the train. Zeke and Mr. Ho, having heard of our encounter with an alleged Reckoner, have abandoned our employ and our reputation has deterred anyone in Denver from signing up. And while the assortment of ladies that Mr. Bongiovi has brought from Castle Rock are. . . enthusiastic, they are not skilled enough to drive a steam engine.
It would seem that we have captured the attentions of forces more powerful than Darius Hellstromme. But as this new threat seems more focused on Mr. Tobin, to the point where Indians are attempting to separate us for our own safety, I wonder if perhaps it might be time to disassociate ourselves from his company. And, with Mr. Pace’s turning, it may be wise to separate from the similarly possessed Mr. Tobin in a decidedly terminal fashion. I have discussed this with Mr. Bongiovi and we are in agreement. For now, we will wait and observe but we shall also prepare.
I hope this talk of proximal supernatural threat has not unduly worried you. Rest assured, I have plans in motion and tools at my disposal that should keep me safe, in so far as anyone can be safe in the weird frontier.
Endearingly,
Zebulon
