TOPIC: Badlands

I went outside to see what all the hollerin’ was about and the Indun’s is everywhere. Maybe it’s because I went out with my pistol drawn, but no sooner had I got outside when one of them redskins put an axe in my foot. I returned the favour and shot him dead.

My new friend, you know the one who smells like an abattoir in summer, well turns out he can use magic. But he’s a dark ‘un. One minute he’s standin’ there been attacked, the next a deck o’ cards appears out of nowhere in his hands, he fans ‘em and a full house rises outta the cards, then this beam catches this Indun. The Indun starts screamin’ and hollerin’ ,as his skin starts to melt off a his face, not a pretty sight, damn dark magic. But he seemed a nice fella, I don’t know what ta make of him now, and castin’ magic in full sight o’ everyone, weird right?
The gun slinger, enters the fray, and he is firin’ off bullets like nobody’s business. A gun in each hand, and firin’, you might think sprayin’ so much lead is to compensate for bad aim, not this guy, no Sir. A redskin comes up to him and enters a fist fight with a guy with two guns. To be fair to the indun, it was probably the wisest thing to do. The Indun strikes out at him a blow that would cleave his torso in two, but somehow he evades it, bang bang the Indun’s no more.

There’s this other fella, seen him around the hotel, but not spoke to him yet, scrawny lookin’ runt, but got that look of a inventor, you can always tell by the way they is dressed funny, shirt not tucked, carryin’ books and droppin’ em, never been laid, you know the type. He has this gun that sounds like a cannon BOOM , an’ a redskin who was hidin’ on the roof is shot, so was a passin’ Cormorant, Duck an’ tin can that happened o be in the air at the same time, what the hell was that?

Colonel Saunders, the gunslingers friend the one dressed in white, he never appeared.

With the immediate danger dealt with we looked down the street and them Redskin’s are stagin’ a break out of the Sherrif’s office after that drunk brother o’ theirs.

We move down the street, an’ low and behold now the fightin’s over Hemmingway appears. Luckily them Indun’s spot us an’ throw an axe at him, I’m about to shoot him (the Indun, not Hemmingway), when a ladies scream comes from the general store, the gun slinger turns and goes inside, bang, bang, and appears bowin’ with his hat off,”It was not trouble at all mam” he says. Then this Indun’s face starts to melt, I look around and there he is “Smells like teen armpits” in his own Nirvana, mystical cards in hand, in front of the towns’ folk again.

The battle swings back an’ forth and I am quite badly hurt by a spear, but the Indun’s retreat, more likely they got what they wanted rather than we won, but hey I’ll take any kind of victory.

Suddenly I don’t feel so injured anymore, an’ that idiot is castin’ magic out in the open again. We have several injuries amongst our number and I tend to them discreetly an’ cast my own healin’ magic.

I’m not sure how I feel about been healed by someone that melts people’s faces and casts in open sight.

Last weeks session

The fightin’ stops a quickly as it started and the Induns leave the town, it is a scene of carnage with bodies strewn all over the place. Would be mighty nice if them Induns who died on roof tops could a rolled off, now we gotta get ladders and broom sticks to knock ‘em off.

They’ve only gone and shot the sheriff, but they did not shoot the deputy; they stabbed him instead. Damn shame, two nice fella’s.
We tell Mr The South, about what happened and he like all of us is worried about the dark magic of Radagast, and an argument breaks out. I point out we are all God’s children and however we feel about his magic, he has not done any harm to an innocent.

The town’s folk are coming out of hidin’ or whatever it is they was doin’ and the Mayor comes over, I think he is after Mr Winters and Mr The South, fillin’ in the Sheriff and Deputy roles till they can find someone for the post.

The smell comin’ of Radagast is truly awful and I can see it is offending Mr The South’s senses, with one fluid motion he pushes Radagast into a horse trough and says “Sir!, I do declare you the smelliest varmint I have ever smelt”

Radagast climbs out of the trough not lookin’ too happy, hands are placed on guns and all eyes are on him in case anymore of that face meltin’ is going to happen. Mr The South is walking off not noticing this and says “Sir, get yourself cleaned up and I will leave some money for clothes and a room for you at the hotel” I don’t think Radagast heard him through his rage.

Back at the hotel and Mr The South, Mr Winters, Mr Hemmingway and myself are having drinks, I’m back on the sarsaparilla as I have to prepare the sermon for tomorrow. A cowpoke saunters over and asks us what we are doing. He introduces himself as Jesus (pronounced Hey Zeus).
“I wander if you gentlemen need any help” to which I replied.

“Er, who are you and why do you think we need your help?”

“A friend of mine said should I be in town to look you up, as you may have work.”

“Let, me get this straight Hey Zeus, you were advised that we four people who only arrived in town two days ago, whose foretelling was unknown to anyone till two days ago, you were told that we would be here and may have work”

“Yes”

“And may I ask whom told you of this” said Mr The South

“Why it was Radagast, the town drunk, who has left never to return, after an incident with a water trough.” Exclaimed Hey Zeus.

“You mean Radagast, the town drunk of only three days. Radagast who recently filled the position of town drunk as the town had been blissfully unaware of their need of one.” I said

“The very same”

“Sounds plausible” said Mr The South.

“In answer to your original question, no we do not have work for you friend.” I replied. Mr friend Mr Hemmingway was smiling wryly.

A short while later Mr The South and Hemmingway decide to play a friendly game o’ cards, and much to my surprise Mr The South won. I am unsure if Mr Hemmingway was playing him as a patsy , for tomorrow’s tournament.

In the morning I give this town the preaching they need and more than they deserve, I even got to preach a little about the evils of gambling, after a good couple of hours I let my congregation flock off.

The Poker tournament is a great success and surprise, surprise Mr Hemmingway wins.

The next day we are cordially invited to the Mayor’s office. Such a request cannot be refused , so we all arrive and to our surprise Hey Zeus is there.

“Gentlemen, we could not have survived without your help over the last couple of days, I must ask one further favour of you all”

Mr Winter Intercedes “I get why we are all here, but I don’t remember Hey Zeus”

“Really?” says the Mayor

“No, I have no recollection either” I say.

“Really? You really can’t see this is Radagast”

Mr Winters and myself were taken aback by the cunningness of the disguise, it was impenetrable. Our friend Mr Hemmingway says he knew all along. He has such a good poker face I couldn’t tell if he actually had pierced the veil of this deceptive and ingenious masquerade. Mr The South had a different view, and felt cheated that his supposed friend had not come clean with him.

Eventually the meeting got back on track. The Mayor wants us to travel with some expert on Indians and create peace with someone called Sue.

We gather our belongings, and rally at the stables, where another argument breaks out between the master of masquerade, the deception of deception, the cunningness of concealment, Radagast and Mr The South.

We set off, and after a few hours the sun starts to go beyond the horizon and we are treated to the marvel of the creators gift, a beautiful sun set all accompanied to the soundtrack of Mr The South and Radagast going at it again.

We eat something, I will not go far as to say food but it filled a hole, and settled down to rest for the night. Wanting to eat something that will satiate the pallet and senses Mr Hemmingway and I will take the breakfast watch and cook the food. Somehow Mr The South and Radagast/Hey Zeus end up on the same watch, I hope they’re not too loud.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,

I look at Mr Hemmingway and he looks at me “Wouldn’t it be nice to get through one night without Mr The South emptying his load everywhere” I say.

Arrows, Axes, Knives, and Machetes are flying through the air, I step away from the fire and into the night waiting until I can locate a target, Mr The South has no such restraint, and Mr Winters seems to have brought a gun to a knife fight again.

This week, I've mostly been fightin' evil

I’m tellin’ ya that Mr Winters is one mean SOB. Let me start at the beginning.

I stood off from the fire looking in Mr The South’s direction and he is prayin’ and sprayin’, and he blows this Indun in half, IN HALF!!, the legs are lying on the floor useless but twitchin’, but the top half keeps on comin’. He shoutin’ “DIE, DIE. WHAT IS THIS. WHY WON’T IT DIE” it is at this point I get the feelin’ that these Induns ain’t alive.

“Oh Lord Almighty, grant me your fervour and protect me from these unholy terrors. I shall not fear and I shall not waiver.” And stepped out into the night, I put away my pistol and drew my knife and held my cross before me, filled with divine energy of god’s will driving me on to destroy the hell spawn.

Radagast, Mr Winters, Mr Hemmingway, and our scout Mr River (Yangtze) are all missing in action, but I am sure I can hear the sound of faint gunshots.

Emboldened by my move into the darkness Mr The South follows me, I want to make sure he knows it is me in front of him so I call back to him and he acknowledges me. I spy a possible target, but it is not moving so put it down to it probably being a cactus. BOOM!! Mr The South has spotted the same foe and shot it with his shotgun.

The next thing I hear is the formerly silent Mr Winters yelling “Oh my god, its melting, its melting” before I can move or react to that a new sound arrives. It is the gargling sound of someone close by being strangled, as the undead by their very nature are already dead, this must therefore negate the necessity for breath meaning it can only be my comrade behind me Mr The South making this noise.

Congratulating myself on a wonderful piece of logic, I turn and go to Mr The South’s aid, it is very dark and the two bodies are locked in a tussle, I find the moving corpse and plunge my knife into it, trusting the Lord to make my strike true and powerful. Meanwhile Mr The South is trying to break its hold on him and this gives me another opportunity to strike, this time it explodes and melts all over Mr The South’s pristine white suit.

The divine strike and subsequent melting of the corpse is missed by no one as Mr Winters, Mr Hemmingway and Radagast turn up just in time to see it all, and the irony of a stinking messy Mr The South is not lost on anyone and a sniggering Radagast wonders off.

The horrors all ready witnessed this night are rounded off with a staggeringly scary spectacle, the gut twisting, chunder retching view of Mr The South stripping off and setting fire to his clothes. Back at the camp he was mumbling about it being a good job he brought a spare suit, paradoxically I was thanking the Lord for the exact same reason.

We finally take in the view of Mr Winters, where once his clothes, although never fine, were of a decent standard, now before us stood a tattered, raggedly dressed man pulling off an image Radagast would have died for. His clothes are all cut and shredded, yet there is not a mark on his skin!!! And that is why he must be one tough SOB.


In the morning after a fine breakfast, we are all tired after the break in our sleep, we set off once more for the Indun’s.

We are riding, and riding, Mr Winters is asleep at the neck of his horse, and Radagast keeps sliding off, I am sure he will be underneath it soon. When Mr Hemmingway shouts out about a movement he caught out of the corner of his eye. I didn’t notice anything, but that is not unusual, God points out what he wants me to see.

Whatever he saw unnerved him, because he drew his pistol. We carried on.

In the distance we saw some tumble weed, but you know when you getting that nagging thought in the back of your mind, something you can’t quite put your finger on but you know instinctively something is wrong. The tumble weed had legs and claws and teeth, and things that send grown men running home to their mothers. The nagging doubt I worked out, was that tumble weed should have been a lot smaller at that distance.

Mr Hemmingway was the only one readied and not taken aback by this sight and he fires four rounds into it, but it doesn’t slow it keeps coming. In the briefest of moments it is upon Mr Hemmingway and bites the back half of his horse off, Hemmingway crashes to the floor and is stuck underneath the front half of his horse.

Radagast is the other unfortunate whose horse is bitten in two by another of these creatures. Also they are the only two people who had hired horses.

Insurance conspiracy?

Mr Hemmingway is saying something but I cannot hear what. I slide off my horse, shotgun in hand and walk towards Mr Hemmingway.
“Why is this happening, I didn’t take out the eviscerated waiver clause on this horse!!”
“Oh no! nor the collision with evil policy.” He looks at me and says “Do you think we can stick it back together and hope they don’t notice” I realise the poor chap has gone into post traumatic insurance shock.

Looking at the creature feasting on the carcass, I see where Hemmingway’s bullets struck it and didn’t make it through to flesh. My weapons will have little to no effect on this creature.

“Oh Lord, give me the strength to help your trapped son Earnest and keep us safe”. I walk over to free Mr Hemmingway from his horse and try to get him out his state of shock.

Mr The South has had about enough of all this rubbish and after firing over 100 rounds these last four days, and hitting nothing, he gets up close and personal with the eye of the creature eating Radagast’s horse. BOOM!! And blood trickles out of the socket where only moment before an eye was, the creature roars with pain and attacks Mr Winters.

It is at this moment I realised that if you have to be near someone then it is best to be close to Mr Winters. Everything seems to like fighting him. He is like a fighting magnet and if it has teeth or a knife so much the better. If it was not for bad luck Mr Winters would have no luck at all.

Radagast has a steely look in his eye, the kinda one where he will have to employ another impenetrable disguise to avoid the insurance costs of his horse. The cards appear and the creature bleeds from other orifices. A wound appears on Radagast although nothing has hit him that I can see. Mr The South fires again but fails to find a soft part of the creature. Radagast has another go with his cards, and you can see that the creature suffers more damage, but Mr Winters is blown up about six feet into the air. I am making an educated guess that Radagast’s magic can come with downsides!!

Mr Hemmingway, is stuck fast under the front half of his horse. He is pushin’ and pullin’ and I nearly break my back trying to heave him out. The creature remains engorging itself on the other half.
“Tell me how bad does it look” he asks me.
“Real bad, Re Al Ba Ad” I reply,
“So we can’t fix it then?” The look in his eye is like a child wanting to find a way out of a situation. I know it is best not to sugar coat these things.
“Mr Hemingway, to be blunt the horse is in two pieces, unless this creature is an illusionist, wearing one of Radagast’s amazing disguises and is about to reveal himself with a theatrical Ta DA!! and the horse suddenly appearing whole again, I believe you to be bang out of luck.” I get a good gip and I am suddenly filled with the power of the divine, and pull Mr Hemmingway free easily.

The sight of his horse in half and being eaten drives home the reality of his insurance mistake.
In the background Mr The South, Mr Winters and Radagast are fighting the one who attacked Mr Winters .
Bang, Bang, Bang. Mystical magic sounds , with a satisfactory wet slap sound.

Mr Hemmingway turns and asks me “What can we do?”
BANG! BANG!
To which I reply “Let’s weigh up our options”
“Ok”
Mystical magical sound, Wet Slap, Bang, Bang.
“WE COULD SHOOT IT!” He shouts over the noise
“That is an option” I concede. “However”
BANG, BANG, BANG, fizzle, fizzle.
“Given their expertise in shootin’ and death, I fear we may lack the skills.”
BANG,BANG, BOOM!!
“We could run away” Says Mr Hemmingway, followed by the sound of some girly screams and the sight of someone being thrown around in the background.
“We, could do that, but I should point out”
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, Fizzle fizzle
“We could not run away on horseback, we stand very little chance on foot”
Bang, bang, bang BOOM!!
“So where does that leave us then?” More screams followed by “Die” Bang, “Die” Bang, “Die” Bang and very girly screams from Radagast obviously planning a female disguise next.
“Back with the first option” I reply.
BOOM, BANG, Magical sounds followed by a wet slap, BOOM!!
“Okay on the count of four” says Mr Hemmingway
Bang, bang, bang.
“Who goes on four?”I ask
Fizzle, fizzle Bang , bang
“Well three then! Better?”
Screams and the sound of tearing flesh
“Much. One”
Bang, Bang, BOOM!!!
“Two” says Mr Hemmingway.
Fizzle, Fizzle

“Three” we say together, I run forward knife in hand looking for a weak spot and an opening, safe in the knowledge my friend, and travelling companion is by my side. I cast a glance to my side for moral support and see……..

…………. an open plain, a tree in the distance blowing gently in the afternoon breeze, the majesty of an eagle circling above looking for its prey. A little closer a larger bolder, a remnant of an ancient glacier, showing the power of flowing ice, a lizard lying on the rock bathing in the fading heat of the afternoon’s sun. What is lacking from my view is a Mr Hemmingway.

Turning my attention to what lay ahead, which is a mass of teeth and legs and a very angry disposition . I must confess to having the wind knocked out of my sails and feeling a little under-dressed with a small knife in hand. Still my course was set and I struck it with my knife, which seemed to upset it somewhat.

Mr Hemmingway was right behind me, about 40 feet behind me, tongue hanging out his mouth and the sweat of concentration trickling down his brow, he fires, pew pew, the bullets bounce off. I am now dancing with the beast him vicious and deadly me with a glorified butter knife and Mr Hemmingway’s .22 “Sting” fortunately for me the other beast dies and the three others enter this battle.

Radagaast casts a spell which is the cause of the wet slap sound, the noise is the wound inflicted on the creature, Mr The South has quite enough of this and walks up to the creature and sticks his gun in the socket where formerly an eye lived and fans his gun. Mr Winters starts pumping rifle rounds into the creature, in retaliation it almost bites Mr The Souths leg off below the knee it is an awful mess. I believe the creature had heard of the rhyme “Run, run, run away and live to fight another day” because that’s exactly what it did.

I asked the Lord to save Mr The South’s leg and the good Lord chose too.

Physically we are all good, but fashion wise we are a disaster in need of a seamstress. Our losses now count as One white suit and one pair of white trousers. Shirt and trousers and two hire horses.

Two horses down, we decided to double up. Radagast trying to be helpful tries to bolster Mr Winters’s horse but ends up crippling it so it can barely carry its own weight. Summer (that’s what he called it) now looks more like winter and the end of the road. So we are severely slowed by having to walk.

On with our journey we press on into the night and finally come across the Indun’s.

We move on towards the Indun camp, Summer looks like he needs to rest or be shot. Mr Winters looks like a man beaten up, blown up and angry over his emaciated horse. In fact I would go so far to say, he looks like a man trying to decided if can justify to himself shooting Radagast.

On the point of Radagast, I can see both sides. He has been of great help in the fights and has tried his best but outside the domain of combat he has done a lot more harm than good. He has a secret and is driven by something none of us can understand. Money I get, to do the Lords work is my calling, to avenge understandable, to be a mean SOB cool, but what is Radagast's gig? I will tell him that magic on us or our belongings is best done with consent of the owner.

These Indun's do a lot of talkin' and not much in the way of good Christian worship, a while later, it is decided that they will create peace with the town, but they want us to track something, a piece of Ghost Rock with quick silver vein running through it. Their shaman brings up an image of the man we seek in the water in a font this is Indun magic and it’s pretty cool, I also believe they are going to try and fix Summer.

We set off for the town where the image of the man we seek was last at. Mr Hemmingway and Radagast have borrowed horses from the Indun’s.

We set of five wide and riding like a posse. This lasts all of two seconds when the Indun horses bolt, Summer feeling a lot better wants to run and bolts as well. I am not sure if Mr The South’s horse bolted or he wanted to ride wild, you just can’t tell with these Southerners, but he has gone as well. Mine and Mr Hemmingway’s horses like the idea but lack the commitment to join in and after a few seconds we have regained control. We are sitting on our horses watching the other three breaking off in different directions.
I look up at the sky and talk to God “Lord some men you made of Steel, mine you made out of shit” I am sure the good Lord is testing me. We put the coffee on and wait.

Eventually they all drift back and we set off again. We arrive at the town and find out the man we seek left on a coach bound for Denver but has many stops on the way. Hoping to get lucky Mr Hemingway and I check the bank just incase he deposited it there, but alas he seems to have the rock with him. Mr The South went looking for a tailor, but he has reappeared wearing shorts in white with long socks (also white), he looks like a German postal worker. Mr The South is not looking to happy about this change in image, and is going to shoot something by the look on his face. Radagast, Radagast you ask, who knows. The master of disguise could be anything here, could even be the tailor who cut Mr the South’s trousers………..