Monday, June 6, 2011
Entry #39: Ammo!
Slimeballs. All a bunch of slimeballs. Yep. So we worked with Irish again, against our better judgement, and met his friend, "Shaky", who was little better. Several large gunfights and many dead men later we got the ammo and rode off with Irish, who refused to take any part in the combat whatsoever. I think he may have some moral thing against killing people. It looks like we're at last ready to attack the fort, though, so hopefully we'll be able to say goodbye to this motliest of motley crews soon.
Entry #38: A Sickly Town
We found that everything that needed doing in the town was located in the saloon. But the place was less than impressive. It had a piano player, sure... but that was about the only patron apart from an old, well-to-do lady sitting with prim posture on a sickly green sofa. Speaking of sickly green, it was the color of the entire room. We made our exit with haste and found the real saloon next door. Weird. There wasn't much in there either, however, in the ally next to it we found our old friend irish. From a distance I was worried he was holding a knife to two nuns, but of course not. It was a gun. After Marston took his rage out on the drunken fellow we headed off to follow him. We need parts for the gatling gun, you see. It doesn't yet work. Also, I forgot to mention we, for some unknown reason, bought a house in this mudpit. It's also sickly green, and we are not a fan of how sissy the interior is, but it's all worth it for the roof. We can climb on the roof. Oh, but one more thing! While we were ambling about the town we heard cries. This is pretty normal, but we responded all the same, as a lady was being carried off by some vagabond! We shot the man in the legs, but he fought well. He eventually did go down, and the lady thanked us. Something was amiss, however. Them man's body outright disappeared! We came to a horrifying conclusion: the lady was a crazed cannibal and devoured the man in mere moment! What looked like her being carried off was actually here leaping upon her victim and tearing at him. We felt just awful after this realization, but there was nothing to do. Some things just turn out rotten, and that's a fact.
Cannibal lady
Ugly, empty tavern
New house
Cannibal lady
Ugly, empty tavern
New house
Entry #37: Strangers Never Go Away
So we've come to Thieves' Landing. It's made an impression. Whether or not that's a good impression is another matter entirely. It's sure different, though. Wet, dark, rainy, and overall swampy, this place is a break from the old west, though not necessarily a good one. Right upon entering the city we got hailed by a shopkeeper asking us to catch a thief. He made some "witty" remark about there being "nothing like a gunpowder burning contest" and Stephen retorted, with excellent form, mind you: "Nothing like a tie you up and throw you into the authorities contest!" And he didn't even do that! He gave the man over to the shopkeeper. We also found out Liar's Dice is a playable game. This place is getting better. Though it's still pretty dicey.
Oh! Also, on the way here-- Five Fingered Filet! I like this place! Anyway, on the way here we found a kindly old man picking flowers for his wife. He then enlisted our aid in collecting some flowers for him. (I suspect he's really concocting a terrible plague with which to destroy the local populace, but I may be wrong.) Stephen asked if this quest was an immediate concern or if it would stay forever and I remarked: "Strangers never go away." "Sounds deep..." he replied. Yes indeed, it is deep. So deep that I need to think on that and not write anything else. Ever.
Oh! Also, on the way here-- Five Fingered Filet! I like this place! Anyway, on the way here we found a kindly old man picking flowers for his wife. He then enlisted our aid in collecting some flowers for him. (I suspect he's really concocting a terrible plague with which to destroy the local populace, but I may be wrong.) Stephen asked if this quest was an immediate concern or if it would stay forever and I remarked: "Strangers never go away." "Sounds deep..." he replied. Yes indeed, it is deep. So deep that I need to think on that and not write anything else. Ever.
Entry #36: Mugwiggle?
Well, we named our horse. We decided we would call it whatever word we heard spoken first. It took awhile to meet all the prerequisites, which included it not being spoken by Marston and it being an actual noun or adjective or something and not something like "the", "a", or "come". We overheard some gossip as we headed into our house in the farm. A man was talking about a "freight train". That was the name, then: Freight Train. Works great, since it rhyme with "no name". That makes our old song quite intact. After this momentous decision, we headed off for Thieves' Landing, a place we've been looking forward to seeing since oh before you were born. On route we found some stranger by a lake. Seems like swamp country around here. I wonder if he's a mugwiggle or whatever those are called. Probably? I don't know.
Entry #35: Only Irish Left
Mr.West Dickens: liar, cheat, money grubber, and accomplice. He still didn't have enough to help us, so we entered a horse race in his name. It was a close and exciting event as riders rode neck and neck with one another. We dearly wanted to shoot our fellow racers, but withheld the urge for fear of disqualification. The likable and hateable Mr. West Dickens wanted to bask in the glory of our victory, but Marston preferred cash. Finally the portly philanthropist caved and agreed to help us; but first we must hold Irish to his end of the deal. We decided to focus more on the story and less on our bizarre adventures, heart-breaking and wondrous as they may be.
We have discovered in Rathskeller Fork that Blackjack is a playable game in Red Dead Redemption, which bodes well for our gambling days. But no, we've wasted enough time! We'll save it for later. The room nearby cost a-hunnerd dollars to purchase, causing us to wonder why we wouldn't just sleep in the open plains free of charge. Is there any gameplay purpose whatsoever? Can you keep different horses at different locations? The horse system confuses us to no end. Perhaps these mysteries will become clear as we aid our drunken Irish friend.
Off we go!
We have discovered in Rathskeller Fork that Blackjack is a playable game in Red Dead Redemption, which bodes well for our gambling days. But no, we've wasted enough time! We'll save it for later. The room nearby cost a-hunnerd dollars to purchase, causing us to wonder why we wouldn't just sleep in the open plains free of charge. Is there any gameplay purpose whatsoever? Can you keep different horses at different locations? The horse system confuses us to no end. Perhaps these mysteries will become clear as we aid our drunken Irish friend.
Off we go!
Entry #34: Back to the Old Grindstone
We decided that our act of murder was wrong. We used a letter of pardon and resumed a lawful life (but not before committing arson). We couldn't catch a new horse on foot, though we certainly tried, and were forced to spend most of our money on a Kentucky saddler. I suppose we'll have to think up a name here soon, and I'm glad our madness has subsided. It's time to focus on our true goal: PROTECTING OUR HOUSE WITH OUR LIIIIIIIIVES!
Entry #33: Good or Evil?
We did it. The deed is done and over with. We struggled to time the train with our plan (villains deserve more credit for their time management skills), but finally had our lawman, kicking and screaming, tied up on the track. The train wasn't far behind and came choo-chooing its way around the bend. We scampered for cover to watch from a hill lest someone spot us and report this to the authorities. With a mixture of horror and delight, we watched as the massive vehicle rammed into our victim, blowing him into a shower of blood and smoke. When the dust settled we turned our gaze to the new horse. He was a witness. Without thinking it through, we killed him with a shotgun and walked away, our shoes making bloody footprints in the wake of our murder.
Now, come the next day, we wander aimlessly in MacFarlane's Ranch, playing horshoes, poker, and chicken-kicking. Did we do wrong or did we serve justice? There are only two options. We will either turn ourselves in if what we committed was evil, or we will destroy every lawman in the world if our deeds were true.
There is no in between.
Now, come the next day, we wander aimlessly in MacFarlane's Ranch, playing horshoes, poker, and chicken-kicking. Did we do wrong or did we serve justice? There are only two options. We will either turn ourselves in if what we committed was evil, or we will destroy every lawman in the world if our deeds were true.
There is no in between.
Entry #32: To Kill a Lawman
We caught ourselves a lawman and brought him home. After lost his pathetic friends, we covered him in bait and waited for the wild animals to eat him. Only one fox came, though, so we decided a new devious plan must be schemed up.
"We could throw him in a bandit camp and cut him free," suggested Bryan.
"We could drown him in the river!" I put forth.
"Or we could stampede him," Bryan said.
"With a horse?" I asked doubtfully.
After a moment more of thought, it came to us both in a flash. "Tie him to a railroad track!"
Tonight there will be lawman blood.
"We could throw him in a bandit camp and cut him free," suggested Bryan.
"We could drown him in the river!" I put forth.
"Or we could stampede him," Bryan said.
"With a horse?" I asked doubtfully.
After a moment more of thought, it came to us both in a flash. "Tie him to a railroad track!"
Tonight there will be lawman blood.
Entry #31: What we need is LAWMAN blood!
We were on the verge of shooting our new horse in anger, but I proposed that too much horse blood has already been spilt on this account. What we need is LAWMAN blood! So now we embrace our companion, taking him on a great escapade of justice. We plan to capture the highest ranking lawman we can find, tie him up, and kindap him. What happens after that is entirely left to our mercy, which is emptier than the soul of a lawman.
Entry #30: All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses a Horse
There we were: waking up in our own house after fending off that lousy lawman by accidentally shooting him to death. He stole our horse and Bryan almost mistakingly shot the beast, but he was spared. The lawman wasn't so lucky. As I already said. But then, lol and behold, there was a man approaching. He was peering about in a suspicious way, and was no doubt a spy from the police out to get us. After all, we were wanted men. We knocked him down and tied him up, planning to haul him off to Armidillo to purchase some bait; the bait of his fate. Unfortunately, our plan went horribly awry. Another fellow caught sight of us mistreating him, and called for the sheriff. We tried to shut him up, but two more folks rode by-- there were too many of them! Word got out, the lawmen arrived, and a chaotic shootout started to ensue. We dashed up the slope to our house and whistled for our horse, but... the horse did not come. We whistled again, and a different horse appeared. What was happening? Where was our true horse? We evaded the cops and our worst fears were confirmed:
The horse with no name was dead.
Rage and sorrow boiling to the surface, we murdered all three lawmen with swift retribution. Now hike the heated desert with nary a friend in sight, man or beast. Our new horse will not leave us be, but we are unstable and unready to accept a new steed just yet. Maybe we'll find a new one back at town, but it'll be hard to replace the sturdy, trusting figure that was our tamed stallion. And we promise our dead horse...
REVENGE.
The horse with no name was dead.
Rage and sorrow boiling to the surface, we murdered all three lawmen with swift retribution. Now hike the heated desert with nary a friend in sight, man or beast. Our new horse will not leave us be, but we are unstable and unready to accept a new steed just yet. Maybe we'll find a new one back at town, but it'll be hard to replace the sturdy, trusting figure that was our tamed stallion. And we promise our dead horse...
REVENGE.
Entry # 29: E3 Buffers as Our Conscience Suffers
After all those unsavory memories with Seth, we decided it was high time to do some good deeds. Instead of stealing a safe full of money, we risked our lives to return it safely (PUN!). We also took care to merely wound or capture our enemies instead of killing them, which made us feel morally sophisticated. Unfortunately, we proceeded to help Mr. West Dickens with his job, so our honorable brownie points disappeared in the dust.
To make matters worse, we watched the Microsoft press conference fro E3 2011. It wasn't buffering very well, and a number of skips and glitches made it frustrating to watch. We finally gave up halfway through the Halo: CE HD remake port thing, which looked pretty darn neat. Tomb Raider was also pretty darn neat. The rest was mostly Kinect and shooters. Lots of it was both.
But back more Wild Western dilemmas. While I was having nothing to do with the game, Bryan found a small camp of lawmen. He decided to kick their bedrolls away from the fire, which he delighted in doing. With no reaction to speak of, he kicked the actual lawmen. Still no doubt frustrated with the lack of trouble, Bryan ran them over with a horse.
We are currently holed up in our Edgar Allen Poe House (as a call it, due to the raven-like birds that perch atop its roof and the haunted legend it has secured) and trying to survive without being murderers. We might die.
To make matters worse, we watched the Microsoft press conference fro E3 2011. It wasn't buffering very well, and a number of skips and glitches made it frustrating to watch. We finally gave up halfway through the Halo: CE HD remake port thing, which looked pretty darn neat. Tomb Raider was also pretty darn neat. The rest was mostly Kinect and shooters. Lots of it was both.
But back more Wild Western dilemmas. While I was having nothing to do with the game, Bryan found a small camp of lawmen. He decided to kick their bedrolls away from the fire, which he delighted in doing. With no reaction to speak of, he kicked the actual lawmen. Still no doubt frustrated with the lack of trouble, Bryan ran them over with a horse.
We are currently holed up in our Edgar Allen Poe House (as a call it, due to the raven-like birds that perch atop its roof and the haunted legend it has secured) and trying to survive without being murderers. We might die.
Entry #28: A Train Hits Us
On our way to see Seth, we wandered into a regular ghost town. There was a big, creepy house that looked precisely like a haunted mansion should look. We investigated and decided that nobody was home. But then-- bang! Someone was shooting at us! We fired from the upstairs window and took him down. However, we lost honor in doing so, and he was apparently innocent. Perhaps he was simply defending his lonely house, which we can relate with.
Speaking of dead people, Seth was being Seth. This disturbed us. He had us storm the very same house we already examined, but this time it was filled with bloodthirsty killers! We fought our way to a locked chest and our Gollumy friend was overjoyed with ugly pleasure. He broke the lock (and law) and found, after so much whining and yearning, nothing more than a glass eye. He freaked out, but it was probably for the best. Maybe this will force him to reexamine his miserable life.
A train is about to hit us OH N---
Speaking of dead people, Seth was being Seth. This disturbed us. He had us storm the very same house we already examined, but this time it was filled with bloodthirsty killers! We fought our way to a locked chest and our Gollumy friend was overjoyed with ugly pleasure. He broke the lock (and law) and found, after so much whining and yearning, nothing more than a glass eye. He freaked out, but it was probably for the best. Maybe this will force him to reexamine his miserable life.
A train is about to hit us OH N---
Entry #27: Jimmy is a Little Tied Up at the Moment (His Words, Not Mine)
As it turns out, that lost person wasn't dead like the others. We found someone with a broken leg (after pulling our gun, failing the mission, and reloading; a little sensitive, that crime system) who wanted us to track down his assailant. Unfortunately, he merely wanted to eat him. Yes, we have discovered the cannibal of Hanging Rock, and he is not native. We killed him, however, and went about our business.
Our business, as it were, included Seth-- or Gollum, as I now call him. His pleading, pathetic nature and total loss of human dignity reminds me heavily of Smeagol, which does come with a certain amount of pity. For it is truly pity and pity alone that stays our hand when dealing with such a wretched, little freak. He was talking to corpses as usual, and he gave him a ride in a cart, fending off villains as we drove. It was quite exciting and even reminded us a little of Uncharted 2.
Next up was a trip back to the mines, where we found disgruntled miners. They had captured a treasure hunter, who exploded, and Jimmy Saint. Mr. Saint wanted to get out of his early grave under the earth, and we obliged him by punching a hole (figuratively) out through a wall of bad guys. But Bryan thought waving a knife through the air in what I can only imagine was an attempt to scare them off. It didn't work. We are now replaying that sequence.
Our business, as it were, included Seth-- or Gollum, as I now call him. His pleading, pathetic nature and total loss of human dignity reminds me heavily of Smeagol, which does come with a certain amount of pity. For it is truly pity and pity alone that stays our hand when dealing with such a wretched, little freak. He was talking to corpses as usual, and he gave him a ride in a cart, fending off villains as we drove. It was quite exciting and even reminded us a little of Uncharted 2.
Next up was a trip back to the mines, where we found disgruntled miners. They had captured a treasure hunter, who exploded, and Jimmy Saint. Mr. Saint wanted to get out of his early grave under the earth, and we obliged him by punching a hole (figuratively) out through a wall of bad guys. But Bryan thought waving a knife through the air in what I can only imagine was an attempt to scare them off. It didn't work. We are now replaying that sequence.
Entry #27: Hidden Gold
We have found treasure! We were on our way to Hanging Rock to find another missing person and stumbled upon a place that looked strikingly similar to the location illustrated on our treasure map. It wasn't long before we found the exact spot of the buried gold, which made us happy as two optimistic and happy people. Even better, another map was enclosed within the chest, so our treasure-hunting days shall not end now! And that guy wants to have a plant race.
Entry #26: Shooting Rabbits and Jerks
We strike out for the great plains of New Austin once more, ready and willing to do many things of a cowboy variety. I am no longer tired and being murdered with allergies, so that is well. Here is the first bit of conversation on this day:
Me: Did you run over a rabbit?
Bryan: No.
BANG
Me: Did you shoot one?
Bryan: Yes.
Then we got throw in jail for two days on account of assault, all because we killed this guy who was stabbing this lady... not because of the raccoon incident. Another great start!
Me: Did you run over a rabbit?
Bryan: No.
BANG
Me: Did you shoot one?
Bryan: Yes.
Then we got throw in jail for two days on account of assault, all because we killed this guy who was stabbing this lady... not because of the raccoon incident. Another great start!
Entry #25: The Perfect Evening (And the Spiffy Day That Followed)
This is going to be a meaty one. Since my wingman, Stephen, has fallen with yet another affliction (this time being tired or something like that) it falls on me to relate what's happened over this past hour. (Throughout all of which I was playing once more.) First off, we left the town to find the irishman and get our revenge. Marston was understandably angry at the drunk, an indignation we largely shared. But he promised to make it up to us by leading us to the machine gun's whereabouts: deep within a mine. Exciting. When we approached the mine our slippery friend once more decided to stay out of the firefight (something he opted to do earlier when leaving us to rot) and instead find a cart to transport the thing with. We agreed, though reluctantly, and marched towards the guards. The game apparently decided we hadn't learned how to use multi-targeting with Dead Eye yet (something we'd been relying on like crazy ever since it first became available) and thought this would be a good training session for it. After taking out the duo a large firefight ensued with the nearby miners. The irishman (named Irish. Novel.) had better have been right about this, as we were killing miners left and right to gain access to their workplace. Once inside, we switched to our trusty shotgun and sauntered through the twisting caverns, blowing away any opposition with style. (Which often included TNT; that's what I mean by stylish.) The best part arrived when we came upon a mine cart and got to ride it out which concluded with a spectacular move of firing from the back of the cart and hitting a TNT barrel in our path, killing the crony nearby along with it.
Our task was complete, and we were all the better for it, as a machine gun was now in our possession. It really struck us how much variety Read Dead keeps heaping on. Every mission brings something new and entertaining to the table, and the events in between are even better. Checking our map I noticed the funny man, Jimmy Saints, was nearby. W found the spot, but the map seemed to be telling us he was *beneath* us. This was very curious indeed. For the sake of exploration we jumped (or fell) into the open mineshaft nearby and found out the hard way that that wasn't the greatest idea. Though it struck us both how excellent the falling animation looked, as Marston went bouncing down the shaft, ricocheting off beams in his descent. Stephen even thought it was a canned animation leading us into a cutscene.
Stephen was really getting tired at this point, so we decided to head back to the house. We couldn't go to sleep right away, though. Oh no, things required some doing. The property had to be kept clear, and we had some hunting to catch up with. These two things combined quite admirably when we found a pelt-collector camped nearby who gave us some bait to catch a few deer. Bait was something we'd forgotten about using in the past, and we soon find it was an excellent way to attract wildlife and fill 'em with lead. (Well, that latter part would also require a gun. Otherwise bait would be nifty indeed.) Continuing our rounds, we came upon a few lawman camped about a crackling fire. Curious to test our previous theories, we leapt upon one of their horses and began to ride off. They responded with sudden anger, one of them going so far as to grab our own horse and ride after us. At this we began to panic, not wanting to lose our prize stallion, and lassoed the man off, taking back what was rightfully ours. The one who seemed to be the leader of the lot had his gun out at this point and was firing at us. We decided to give peace a shot this time and drop down from our horse, holstering our gun and waiting for the hostilities to cease. This was not the case, as the man instead started to fill us with lead, and we had no choice but to bribe him, losing a good sum of honor in the process.
And so we continued on our way, searching for any other troublemakers gazing about our property. We found some people, but they seemed innocent enough. A couple simple travellers camped about a fire. We discovered for the first time that we could sit at the fire with them and listen to a yarn or two. The one they told was a familiar tale, though, as it was ours. After sitting for a spell we continued on our way, though not before shooting at a cactus for a reason I can't recall and accidentally sending the fine folk fleeing in panic. At this point it was getting late, and the moon was high in the sky, so we rode back towards the old house, ready to call it a night. But things were not well. A man was sneaking about our property all suspicious like, and I tell you, this would not do! We gave chase, soon catching up with the offender and roping him in, the vermin. He struggled for a bit, even got his gun out, but to no avail. We soon had him tied up and at our mercy. It was then we had an idea: bait! We dropped the man in front of our house and sprinkled some of our bottled bait on top of him, after which we scurried away and threw ourselves atop the roof, rifle in hand and eyes trained towards the helpless victim.
We waited. And soon they came. Foxes, by the look of them. We opened fire and took one or two out. Success! After spreading some more bait we returned to the roof top, opening fire once more upon the arriving foxes and taking some down. Stephen then had an idea: why not leave him to the animals rather than scaring them off with our gunfire? It's more than he deserved. We took a liking to this plan and used the last of our bait, retreating into our house this time and closing the door behind us. We heard them coming again and strained to get a look out the window. We didn't want to scare them off, however, so we retreated to the back of the house. We decided it would be a good time to change clothes, while we were waiting, and got back into the duster coat. (We'd changed out of it a little while back.) When we finished and opened the door them an was gone, a pile of blood (or bait) being the only sign of his past presence. It was finished.
We had one shell left in my shotgun at this point and wanted something to shoot with it before heading for bed, so we set off for one last look at the property. We didn't find much beyond a rabbit, and Stephen convinced me not to shoot it, but rather to just kick it around for awhile, which I did. After a bit more searching I at last did find something: (Stephen was practically asleep at this point) a man. A man asking me how good of a shot I was. Well, I'd show him how good...
Without hesitation I blasted the man in the legs and rode off, knowing he was still alive by the bullets zipping past me as I made my retreat. It was the perfect ending to the perfect night when... he followed me. I was inside the house at this point, hearing bullets zip around the rotting wood. I decided to confront the pursuer and saw him limping through the hills towards me. I whipped out my rifle and shot his gun right of his hands, following this up with a quick whip of the lasso, using this to tie him up and let him roll down the hill and into some brush. This was truly the perfect end to a perfect evening, and I slept soundly that night.
When dawn broke I could see a storm was brewing in the distance. A nasty one at that. Animals would be seeking shelter from it, and I had to make sure they wouldn't find any. I downed many bird and beast before realizing a good solution to my problem. Break the windows. Then they couldn't find shelter within and would move on. I spent many an hour charging about our property and even found some wolves at our doorstep. As Stephen pointed out, they would've already been inside if not for the broken windows. Ha ho. Things were at their lowest, however, when, having nothing to do, I realized I needed to make use of our wonderful house and do something in it. So I stood on top of our bed and repeatedly whistled. It was quite a way to pass the time, but, after some complaints from Stephen, (claiming it was disturbing his rest or something) Idecided it was high time to get into town; replenish my ammo and the like. So I called for my horse (amazingly he wasn't numb to whistling at this point) and rode away. Along the way I took out a deer, garnering a new level of the hunting challenge (earlier I killed enough coyotes to get a new level of the marksmanship level) and, with Stephen heading for bed, figured it was time to call it in. Against all odds I got a fire started and saved the game, and boy am I ready to start again tomorrow. This game is awesome.
Our task was complete, and we were all the better for it, as a machine gun was now in our possession. It really struck us how much variety Read Dead keeps heaping on. Every mission brings something new and entertaining to the table, and the events in between are even better. Checking our map I noticed the funny man, Jimmy Saints, was nearby. W found the spot, but the map seemed to be telling us he was *beneath* us. This was very curious indeed. For the sake of exploration we jumped (or fell) into the open mineshaft nearby and found out the hard way that that wasn't the greatest idea. Though it struck us both how excellent the falling animation looked, as Marston went bouncing down the shaft, ricocheting off beams in his descent. Stephen even thought it was a canned animation leading us into a cutscene.
Stephen was really getting tired at this point, so we decided to head back to the house. We couldn't go to sleep right away, though. Oh no, things required some doing. The property had to be kept clear, and we had some hunting to catch up with. These two things combined quite admirably when we found a pelt-collector camped nearby who gave us some bait to catch a few deer. Bait was something we'd forgotten about using in the past, and we soon find it was an excellent way to attract wildlife and fill 'em with lead. (Well, that latter part would also require a gun. Otherwise bait would be nifty indeed.) Continuing our rounds, we came upon a few lawman camped about a crackling fire. Curious to test our previous theories, we leapt upon one of their horses and began to ride off. They responded with sudden anger, one of them going so far as to grab our own horse and ride after us. At this we began to panic, not wanting to lose our prize stallion, and lassoed the man off, taking back what was rightfully ours. The one who seemed to be the leader of the lot had his gun out at this point and was firing at us. We decided to give peace a shot this time and drop down from our horse, holstering our gun and waiting for the hostilities to cease. This was not the case, as the man instead started to fill us with lead, and we had no choice but to bribe him, losing a good sum of honor in the process.
And so we continued on our way, searching for any other troublemakers gazing about our property. We found some people, but they seemed innocent enough. A couple simple travellers camped about a fire. We discovered for the first time that we could sit at the fire with them and listen to a yarn or two. The one they told was a familiar tale, though, as it was ours. After sitting for a spell we continued on our way, though not before shooting at a cactus for a reason I can't recall and accidentally sending the fine folk fleeing in panic. At this point it was getting late, and the moon was high in the sky, so we rode back towards the old house, ready to call it a night. But things were not well. A man was sneaking about our property all suspicious like, and I tell you, this would not do! We gave chase, soon catching up with the offender and roping him in, the vermin. He struggled for a bit, even got his gun out, but to no avail. We soon had him tied up and at our mercy. It was then we had an idea: bait! We dropped the man in front of our house and sprinkled some of our bottled bait on top of him, after which we scurried away and threw ourselves atop the roof, rifle in hand and eyes trained towards the helpless victim.
We waited. And soon they came. Foxes, by the look of them. We opened fire and took one or two out. Success! After spreading some more bait we returned to the roof top, opening fire once more upon the arriving foxes and taking some down. Stephen then had an idea: why not leave him to the animals rather than scaring them off with our gunfire? It's more than he deserved. We took a liking to this plan and used the last of our bait, retreating into our house this time and closing the door behind us. We heard them coming again and strained to get a look out the window. We didn't want to scare them off, however, so we retreated to the back of the house. We decided it would be a good time to change clothes, while we were waiting, and got back into the duster coat. (We'd changed out of it a little while back.) When we finished and opened the door them an was gone, a pile of blood (or bait) being the only sign of his past presence. It was finished.
We had one shell left in my shotgun at this point and wanted something to shoot with it before heading for bed, so we set off for one last look at the property. We didn't find much beyond a rabbit, and Stephen convinced me not to shoot it, but rather to just kick it around for awhile, which I did. After a bit more searching I at last did find something: (Stephen was practically asleep at this point) a man. A man asking me how good of a shot I was. Well, I'd show him how good...
Without hesitation I blasted the man in the legs and rode off, knowing he was still alive by the bullets zipping past me as I made my retreat. It was the perfect ending to the perfect night when... he followed me. I was inside the house at this point, hearing bullets zip around the rotting wood. I decided to confront the pursuer and saw him limping through the hills towards me. I whipped out my rifle and shot his gun right of his hands, following this up with a quick whip of the lasso, using this to tie him up and let him roll down the hill and into some brush. This was truly the perfect end to a perfect evening, and I slept soundly that night.
When dawn broke I could see a storm was brewing in the distance. A nasty one at that. Animals would be seeking shelter from it, and I had to make sure they wouldn't find any. I downed many bird and beast before realizing a good solution to my problem. Break the windows. Then they couldn't find shelter within and would move on. I spent many an hour charging about our property and even found some wolves at our doorstep. As Stephen pointed out, they would've already been inside if not for the broken windows. Ha ho. Things were at their lowest, however, when, having nothing to do, I realized I needed to make use of our wonderful house and do something in it. So I stood on top of our bed and repeatedly whistled. It was quite a way to pass the time, but, after some complaints from Stephen, (claiming it was disturbing his rest or something) Idecided it was high time to get into town; replenish my ammo and the like. So I called for my horse (amazingly he wasn't numb to whistling at this point) and rode away. Along the way I took out a deer, garnering a new level of the hunting challenge (earlier I killed enough coyotes to get a new level of the marksmanship level) and, with Stephen heading for bed, figured it was time to call it in. Against all odds I got a fire started and saved the game, and boy am I ready to start again tomorrow. This game is awesome.
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