On a horse with no name...

[Maverick]

The rustic journal is bound in cowhide, each page dried and yellowed from the sun. The cover is branded with a horse head and inside on the very first page is inscribed "Property of Maverick Lawson." Most pages depict sketches of western towns and desert wildlife and passages covering the day-to-day life of Maverick Lawson. New passages have recently been written.

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A NEW FRONTIER

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     Was riding alone in the Bushwack tracking some cattle thieves. Trailed them for a bit but still had a few days between us. Rancher named Bill Thrawn hired me to bring some old country justice to those two thieves. Turns out they were some ranch hands he’d hired a few months back by the name of Johnny Cotton and Marston Hunt. Plan was to ride up on them and bring their gunbelts as proof of the job’s completion. Bonus pay too if I can manage to herd the head of cattle back, for a few brass more I’d do just about anything. Should have went with my gut though. This job smelled from the beginning. Bill Thrawn seemed like a right man but any man in the right would’ve gone to The Duke with this and got a proper lawman to travel into the country. Maybe it was my own folly or just plain greed that spurred this bad luck on me.
     Nelly and I rode hard out of Cimarron County trying to keep tail of Hunt and Cotton. Don’t know how far they planned to herd the cattle but if they hit the Badlands then all bets were off. Pushed Nelly too hard. Too hard. Thought I could gain some ground on them by riding under the stars. Could not chance the risk of any camp smoke tippin them off. Must’ve been the bullet that sealed it for me. Made my way down off of a hill when something in the bush spooked Nellybelle. Never seen her scared so easy. The dark seemed to snake out of every rock and bush, a thin mist coating the whole trail. No amount of calming could bring that mare to her senses. In hindsight I should’ve listened to her and cut back on the trail. When pushed came to shove that ole mare always got her way. Bucked me clean off before running into the night with my saddle and most of my supplies. Wasn’t long before the mist cleared over my head.

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     Felt heavy tryin to walk through it. Like murky water, like a dreamful haze. Couldn’t make bearing of the night sky nor of the rock under my feet. Must’ve walked for hours through that mist, saw shapes and shadows whirl around me. Grabbed for my wheellock but the damned belt was empty. Had to rummage through my pack for some sort of light, luckily my old lantern still had some oil. By the time I had lit the thing the shadows were gone. Chalk it up to some coyotes playing their games and my tired eyes. Continued my walk in hopes of breaking through the mist when the beats of drums slowly echoed to my ears. Hells I thought it was the natives. Figured they meant me no trouble I moved towards the sound of drums when finally, the mist broke.
     Don’t know what kind of camp I saw but the folks had tanned brown skin so for a moment I thought they really were natives, then looking at their clothes maybe some colorful settlers. The prairie around me had changed to some forest too. Made my head swirl at the sudden change, couldn’t have walked that far off the plains. First man I met sat in the middle of the camp. Told me many things. Things I first thought was just honkey talk. He pointed to the stars and I couldn’t recognize any one of them. I’ve slept under the night skies well over a hundred nights. The sky before me was a stranger. The man gave me a few brush drinks and pointed me towards a local saloon near a Villahkay.

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     Made my way towards the place and saw more strangers standin out by the roadside. None of them seemed to have seen my old Girl, Nelly. I turned and searched down the other road in hopes of maybe finding tracks of her. Didn’t make it too far till a local man and woman by the names of Yolven and Trine stopped me. Both took me to the saloon claiming the night was dangerous. Even said my Nellybelle may have been made food for some Neuwrenee. We must’ve sat and gabbed for hours, well into the morn. Heads still shakin from the drink and talk they gave. If what they say is true I may not see the Prairie again. Not the dessert or the plains. My whole world is gone. Whats a cowboy to do?
     They gave me some coin, straight gold. Makes my Brass look like something cheap. Could buy a whole plot of land with this gold and still have enough left to build a damn town inside it. I am thankful for these kind strangers. Coulda left me high and dry out in the dark and picked what was left clean from my corpse. After a good night rest, I ought to find some work. Heard there were bounties and caravan ridin. Whatever the plan is, ain’t gonna be much without ole Nelly. Ain’t gonna be much without friends.

[Maverick]

The page is stained with grass. It is clear the sketch was made with love and care.

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     Nellybelle, what times we had together. Ain’t no replacing you, ole gal. You got me through storms and drought. As loyal steed as any cowboy could ask for. My hopes are you’re still riding fast on those lonesome prairie winds without a care in the world. You’re a free mare now, Nelly, and this dusty roamer is going to miss you.

[Maverick]

Maverick Lawson adds to his journal under a cool Barovian night. There in the dark is nothing but him and the dancing shadows cast by a campfire.

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FOR A FEW FANGS MORE

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     My head keeps swirlin. Just the thought of what Yolven told me has got my insides afire. Tried to calm with some drink but that sweet stuff they make ain’t like the bitters I’m used to. The beer seems halfway decent but ain’t no moonshine though, not like “Uncle” Boaz’s beer for sure. Foods alright, which is somethin’. Beyanka downstairs puts good work in for the brass fang. If I close my eyes I can almost pretend that I’m back on the trail eatin some meat soup.
     Sometimes I sneak on outside and light a fire just west of Veelakey. Nice and quiet except the sounds of wolves out in the forest. I’ll sit to tune my guitar and watch the stars. Goin to be a whole while for me to get used to this night sky. Ain’t nothin familiar about it. Can’t get no sleep out here though. Too much rain. Swear the whole sky is full of water and its just pourin down to drown me.
     Saw a friendly face. Most folk here seem friendly, apart from the lawmen. Trine came moseying down the road while I was finishin my smoke. Told me all about her caravan ridin she been doin. We gabbed on for a while before itchen for some entertainment. Missy showed me to an old farm. Thing looked burnt and rotted. Trine told me all about how there were these varmints that would sneak out and steal things from the farms nearby.
     After shootin it with my game crossbow and her swingin that scythe like the reaper itself, she went by the Vistonay to sell what we got. I swear this land peddles so much gold not even the rush back home produced as much as I carry now in my bags. If I ever make it home I’m gonna buy me a plot of land with enough cattle to make the Duke envious. Still had a bunch of rat corpses on me. Trine said that some man in town would pay for em.
     She seemed a little squeamish about the whole thing. Had good reason, turns out. Man looked somethin sickly. Near thought it was the Red Curse and I’d finally been done it. Even with all this gold I doubt I could afford the cinnabryl, don’t even know if this place even got some. Trine played me a fool, talkin about how my skin was lookin red after I sold the rats. Laughed her rear off. Damn woman got me good for sure. Sure will be laughin at myself once my heart stop poundin.

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     Woke up early today. Sat out under the sky watchin the stars again. Must’ve sat starin for hours till next thing I know damn bell rang from the church. Must be their mornin bell or somesuch. Moseyed over to the gates of Veelakey with the mind for some work. Didn’t take long to find that warehouse. Lucky enough to have enough coin to get me an ox. Foreman there was payin good brass fang to deliver mining supplies south to a Craftburg.
     Road was steep. None different from the mesa used to climb apart from there bein an actual trail. Ox sure was made more for grazin and eatin than huffin a pack. Nearly lost it a few times. Sure as anything if Nellybelle were here then we’d be makin ease heardin the ox up the mountain pass. Still miss ya old girl. Roads were mostly calm. Cold had a bite to it, the kind of bite that goes past your clothes and skin. Kept hiken on the trek to keep warm, didn’t stop the whole way.
     We got close to the Krofburg, sign posts all the way. Went up one last bump into danger. Looked like three white mountain lions sittin lazy further up the hill. Ox bustled up and bumped into me nearly drawin attention. Don’t know if those cats saw us, didn’t stick around to find out. Ox was haulin a sum and if he was made a meal then I would have lost the job. Worked our way into Krofburg, a mining town filled with tents. Reminded me of the mining towns back home except there weren’t no sound of smokepowder kegs goin off.


     Dropped off the goods and picked up another job to take ups back to Veelakey. Trek back down was slow and mindless. Cats ignored us again. Good pay, this caravan route. Should do more of it and find me some good lodging. Maybe a few more friends too.

[Maverick]

On a rock west of Vallaki sits a drift scribbling away in his journal. The sun casting its glow upon him and the ravens.

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The Quick and The Dead

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     Death isnt somethin I really think about. Most of the time lifes too busy, and people dyin was just the way of life out in the plains. You'd spot the occasional buzzard gnawin away at a horse or the odd bones of a man here and there. Just was. Just is. Never have I had to look death in the face and see somethin horrible. Shamblers. Walkin dead, upright and angry. Been beat and tore at more times than I can count now. Its all good fun but sometimes it aint. Kids, not even kids can escape shamblin. Tiny little things all rotted and moanin, moanin like they callin their momma. Nearly bit the bullet first time I saw them, froze. Couldnt bear to pull my crossbow on them. Almost died myself too. Dont know what powers be workin here but each time I've managed to muster enough grit to stand myself up and walk myself out.

     Been goin on hunts more. Keep my mind sharp, my gun hand fast. Most prey been huntin has been those Werewolves up north. Things are big and most times eager to snap at me. I try to keep my eyes forward and pretend they aint nothin but an oversized coyot. Doesnt work much once they get them claws in me. Thought that would be the biggest bad out here but these misted folk, like me, keep showin me otherwise. Got taken to a cave up the ways. Dank place and thought we'd only find some banditos hidin out. Some sort of Bear gang. Sure missed the target on that one. Those werewolves aint nothin but pups compared to these Werebears. These things put a grizzly to shame... almost. Seven, eight feet tall of muscle, fur, and a whole lot of anger issues. Those paws of theirs crush bone and tear through muscle like it was nothin but paper.
     I'll admit. I aint all that strong. Aint no hot shot either, despite what I try to show the pretty gals back out infront of the church. Most of what I have been doin been the work of M-A-J-E-E-K! Thats how you spell that fancy magic. The few spell slingers I see sure can spin some and make even an ordinary man like me a proper fight for some of these creatures. If this journal ever gets deprived of my corpse in the future know that huntin and fightin these things takes some serious brass balls and the magic shine to boot.

     Heres hopin I live long enought to see more of this place. Hear about some fancy posh place with wheel locks further up the core. Need to get me a fancy suit. Somethin with pizzaz.

[Maverick]

Maverick Lawson sits surrounded by bottles. His hand writes shaken, whether from the drink or from the night before only he could tell.

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A DAGGER FOR A GAMBLER

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     Gambling is all about the risk. It's about hopin what you pay in will pay out more. Sometimes you've got the ace and other times... Other times you find yourself two whiskeys deep and a gun pointed right at you. Last night's gamble could've paid out well, and in a way it did, but was the bet too much? I've seen men made monsters here in the mists. Seen things that are twisted and keep me up on these long nights. Nothing so far has compared to what I witnessed, and partook, last night. This Duke man and his posse ain't wise to cross. My back reminds me of that as I sit healin from the whippings. Despite being thrashed like a mutt I got out lucky compared what they did, what they had me do to that girl. I half expected her to come through that door fixen for revenge. I also half expect that diablo of a woman, twisted and fanged, to find me and take more than a tannin from my hide. I'll not forget each of them, how they were huddled and laughin. I ain't no saint but most men I kill and gut give me enough reason too. That poor girl ain't do me wrong, despite tryin to find a quick brass with her corpse. I'll not forget that smile she gave me, broken and bleedin but still smilin. Defiant till the end. Won't be able to look her or them kinship folk in the eyes. All I'll ever see is that carvin' and the dagger that done did the deed. Goin to take a few nights of drink to forget what I helped done.

[Maverick]

Maverick Lawson's drunken nights in the corner of the Lady's Rest is a common sight this past week. His only company his thoughts and the many empty mugs of beer surrounding him.

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SPUR BY THE LANTERN

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     Been a whole week. Come to terms with some things, mainly the drink I've been wastin my brass on. Pains been houndin me often. Thinkin I ain't been cleanin the wounds right. Them lashins burn every time I roll over and sting somethin fierce under my shirt. Don't deserve none of them healin magic, no this one's got to be remembered. Yes, time I get them seen proper by a doc. Got some brass remanin so all that's left is to hope it's nough. Them signs for that Lantern Clinic all over the place. Give them a try.
   Wounds burnt and blistered. That there whip they used for them lashins really was fire. Kind lady doc at that Lantern Light Clinic patched me up good. But boy howdy did it hurt. Rubbed them oils and, funny enough, honey into my wounds. Told me to clean it with salt. Salt and honey, you'd think she be preppin me for them werefolk to eat. Good to know a decent doc is around. Gonna get a lot of wounds and lose a lot of blood before I'm done.

[Maverick]

The drifter seems distant, more hollow looking. Much is on his mind and little does he confide in others. Seems his only friend is the journal in which he sketches.

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IN THE SHADOW OF BOOTHILL

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     Never should have gone up that damn mountain. I can feel its shadow castin down on me even now, mockin me. Them shadows up there, the fog wardens, kept gettin into my mind. I still wake up from nightmares of them swoopen down on me to take me back up there... turn me into one of them. I try to run, claw my way through their deathly cold claws but no amount of strength seems to work. Then they start diggen into me, pullin my soul out. Last thing I see is my own body layin there, face all twisted and horrified. Thats when I wake up with my heart damn near beatin out my chest.
   How many times now is it I've died? Three? Four? How come I can't keep track no more? I keep thinkin the devil would come for my soul each time yet I awaken back there in that church every time. Did those cattle thieves sneak up on me and kill me? Is this place really hell? Not as hot as I'd imagined it was.

Think its time to take a moment to myself. Got a pretty bit of brass that'll keep me well off for a bit. Might hole up in one of them villages nearby.

Maverick Lawson will be put on a brief hiatus for now! Thank you to everyone who has helped shape the first chapter of his story! He will return in time. So long for now, partners! And keep y'alls head clear of the gunsmoke!