3/7/1885 -
We are getting ready to head out to New Orleans. I headed over to the church to "clear my conscience" before heading out. I also decided to pick up some provisions for the unholiness we were heading into, and I received a contact in New Orleans that should be of some help. After that, Justice and Gus and I, we got on a boat and are headed down the Mississippi.
3/12/1885 -
Well, we are heading back to St. Louis. Trouble started almost immediately. We ran into a couple of La Croix's henchmen on the boat and we decided a little interrogation might be in order. Sad to say, they weren't, initially, cooperative, and met an untimely end at the hands of a paddle wheel. After arriving in LA, we went and met our contact at the Church. He informed us that La Croix had several breeding houses scattered all over the country and he was making a zombie army. Apparently he is selling off cheap labor to help with Booth's rail line. We also got some background on his henchman, Jasper. On our way out to scout the breeding house, we received a visit from our old friend from the train robbery. He decided he wanted to settle an old score, but luckily he was put down quickly.
Clayton met us while we were doing recon on the zombie shack, and soon after we laid siege to it. It was one of the tougher fights we have been in, but in the end, we put down the threat. Our abilities have become so enhanced lately, I'm almost convinced that there is no threat out there that can take out all four of us. To say that we have become amazingly powerful in the last month and a half is an understatement at best.
After that was done we decided to take out La Croix. We knew he was supposed to meet Jasper at a certain restaurant in town, and he got quite a surprise for an appetizer. He was just sitting there in his private room, and without and effort on our part, I cast a hold person on him, and Clay put a double barrel shotgun to his head and pulled the trigger. Needless to say, La Croix won't be a problem anymore.
3/21/1885 -
Something has happened. I have looked for answers here in this journal, but there hasn't been an entry in over a week. The last thing I remember was heading back to St. Louis with La Croix's body in tow. Now it is over a week later and I remember nothing. Bullock said I went to Baltimore to meet with TR, but something must have happened while I was there. I remember getting off the train in Kansas with a telegram in my pocket to meet Clay and the boys. I did. We shut down another breeding house, and then headed back to St. Louis where I find out that Faye has been here for over a week, and no one decided to tell me about it. In addition, Clay gave her a job, and took her out a couple of times. My head is reeling, I feel like hell, and need a drink! Between Clay moving in on Faye, and me losing a week of my life and no one being able to sketch in any details, I am pretty upside down right now. I really need to clear my head.
3/23/1885 -
So I came down with some illness, but that didn't stop the guys from dragging me to Menlo Park to meet with Edison and Doubleday. Apparently there is some science they figured out that would transform us and enhance our abilities for the upcoming war which will take place somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. It will be against the Booths, one of whom, Asia, is apparently quite the magic user. Problem is, these theosophical society people don't see a need for people with my abilities after this great war. That is a problem. I have plans for my future, and my special skill set is one of the things that will help me achieve those plans.
We politely turned them down, but I did offer to train their soldiers, because as far as I am concerned, I am the next evolutionary step in mankind, and I don't need there science to take out this family of troublemakers. Something tells me we haven't heard the last of this.
Clayton also made arrangements for some scientist and friend of Rigby's (who is now working for Clay as well as the Agency) named Tesla to come out to St. Louis and set up shop. That should be an interesting opportunity, and hopefully will allow us some access to items that will make our jobs a little easier.
The biggest news to come out of our trip to Menlo Park was when I happened to mention Harrison Jeffers to Col. Doubleday. Apparently Jeffers was an exemplary soldier and laid down his life protecting the Michigan flag on the field of Gettysburg. After he became the harrowed started appearing, Doubleday had such affection for Jeffers that he couldn't bring himself to put him down. So he sent him off to the Pacific Northwest to carve out some kind of existience there. Apparently he is still there. I know my fate is pulling me in that direction, but I sure pray that our paths don't cross. I also learned that my mother was some whore and knowing she couldn't care for me she had me whisked off to the hell that was that orphanage. Tonight might be the first night of Elijah Q. Gridley's life. Because for the first time I feel like Richard Jeffers is finally dead, and I don't have to be haunted by the ghosts of my past any longer.
3/29/1885 -
Well, this entry finds me back in the Baltimore area. After a huge fight with Clayton 0ver Faye, and Tesla, and God knows what else, I decided to head out of town and get some answers to some personal questions. The fight started because Faye and I spent the day together, ended up going to dinner at which time Tesla walked in looking for me. apparently someone had sent him to find me thinking I would be able to find Clay. well, I asked him to join us, and we had a delightful conversation about a wireless telegram system. I mentioned that this is exactly the kind of thing my new fund would be interested in investing in, and I would like to seek Clay's permission to invest in the project. Well, I went and found Clay in the Sanbell and told him all this, and he seemed less than pleased. He came home the next day, and there was quite the confrontation. I thought at some point that it would actually lead to fists being slung, or worse, spells.
I guess I should have been a little more understanding. He has been not himself since Kitty passed, and I am sure it was the loss that was making him so irrational. Regardless, I found out that Bishop Kendrick had been recalled to Rome, and I was wondering what happened to me in Baltimore, so I found it an opportune time for Gus and I to take a little trip and let Clay have some space to put things into perspective.
Gus and I met with the Baltimore Kendrick, and asked him if he knew anything about his brothers recall. He said he did, and that he was the one who pushed for the recall because of his brothers affection for us. He thought it un-wise. He also told us about this theory he has about needing Gus' sword to add to 3 other items so he can perform some kind of ritual. Apparently he believes he can bring some Templar Knight back from the dead to go and destroy Grimm. We pleaded with him to provide us with any help he might be able to give us, and he said he would talk with the Pope and let us know. Somehow I think that request will find its way through a lot of red tape before it reaches Rome. It's no matter, we don't need anything more than the four of us to stop Grimm, Booth, or the Lords of Hell themselves.
After that, I went to find TR to see if he could shed a little light on what happened. Through the use of a little hexing (not on TR) I figured out that there was this ex-agent in the DC HQ, pulling files on former Agents. Apparently he saw me in the HQ and again on the train to Kansas, and mind wiped me. Some guy named Lucas Martin. We located his mole in the Agency, turned him over to TR, and are getting ready to board a train back to St. Louis. Oh yeah, TR told us that he suspects Grimm is one of those things that has been coming out of that hole we closed up. That should be interesting.
Something else of note. The MYSELF organization is working better than I could have ever imagined! We have raised almost 1 million dollars and the head of the Busch Brewery wants to back me for the next Mayor of St. Louis. It is hard to believe that 4 months ago I was sitting in a jail cell for quackery. Life is funny.
3/30/1885 -
Said my goodbyes to Faye, and we are taking a train out to Lost Angles. Who knows what is in store for us. We are going in style. We rented a flat bed for our wagon, and an entire car for ourselves. clay even paid an escort to ride with him on the trip. It feels good to have a clear head and be able to enjoy the finer things again.
4/7/1885 -
Pueblo Co.
4/10/1885 -
Santa Fe, NM. Took a quick detour to close another hell hole, and ran into our buddy Lucas Martin. Let's just say he might be a little foggy on the last 8 months, or so, of his life. serves the bastard right. When we got back to the train station, the escort seemed to have set up shop in our train car while we were away. This did not set well with Clay and he tried to kill her right there in the car. Gus and Justice had a real problem with the killing. I had a problem with getting blood in the train car. They took the fight outside, and the problem was handled. Moving on.
4/14/1885 -
Left Mesa. Had to go find Clay. He got pretty down after the incident with the whore, and is starting to get to a place that might be a little too dark. People can say a lot of things about Shotgun Doc. Sanbell, but he is the one person that treated me well right from the beginning. I am worried about my friend.
4/16/1885 -
Clay found something in the desert called Coyote or Poyte, or something and it seems to have lifted his spirits a bit. Good to see. And these little chips of - whatever this is, they aren't bad. One hell of a stomach ache though. But the hallucinations are fun.
5/11/1885 -
Well we hit Yuma and took a wagon the rest of the way. The terrain was rough and we saw some of those devils as well. Nothing we couldn't handle. You talk about a far cry from civilization, California is it. I want to kill this preacher and get out of here as soon as possible. We are just on the outskirts of Lost Angles now, and this place looks rough, and poor, and dirty. Oh, lest we forget the magician we found tortured, crucified, and left out in the desert as a warning to hucksters like myself. Grimm has to be a demon, because this is the very definition of Hell.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
A Parting of Ways
Over the next few days on the train, Clay keeps to himself- drinking, reading, and occasionally playing a game of cards. At the next stop, Clay secretly buys himself a ticket on the first train headed east- preferably to Texas. He gives a letter to the conductor with explicit instructions to deliver it to Rev. Col. Elijah Q. Gridley, after the train East has left. The letter reads:
To my friends-
The events of the past few weeks has forced me to think about the direction of my life. When I first joined the agency I wasn't sure what I was getting into but I knew it would be an adventure. It has certainly been that. However, due to my involvement, it has also brought me much sadness. I fear I no longer have the desire to continue on this mission- that the skills I've honed are no longer of use, and that any further involvement will do more to hinder the group than to help it. I wish you all the luck in putting an end to this madness and bringing the guilty parties to justice. Unfortunately I cannot be apart of it. I'm leaving the group all assets I've acquired in our time together, except for a few personal belongings: my copy of Hoyle's, my cards, my pistol, my rifle and shotgun, my cash, and my pocket-watch. Everything else is y'all's. I'm sure you will put it to good use. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again, and I will look forward to hearing the tales of your exploits. Maybe even over a drink, Gus.
Sincerely,
Dr. Clayton Sanbel
This letter along with Clayton's Agency badge, the Theosophical Society pin, and a Joker card are all in the envelope.
To my friends-
The events of the past few weeks has forced me to think about the direction of my life. When I first joined the agency I wasn't sure what I was getting into but I knew it would be an adventure. It has certainly been that. However, due to my involvement, it has also brought me much sadness. I fear I no longer have the desire to continue on this mission- that the skills I've honed are no longer of use, and that any further involvement will do more to hinder the group than to help it. I wish you all the luck in putting an end to this madness and bringing the guilty parties to justice. Unfortunately I cannot be apart of it. I'm leaving the group all assets I've acquired in our time together, except for a few personal belongings: my copy of Hoyle's, my cards, my pistol, my rifle and shotgun, my cash, and my pocket-watch. Everything else is y'all's. I'm sure you will put it to good use. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again, and I will look forward to hearing the tales of your exploits. Maybe even over a drink, Gus.
Sincerely,
Dr. Clayton Sanbel
This letter along with Clayton's Agency badge, the Theosophical Society pin, and a Joker card are all in the envelope.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
From the Journal of the Rev. Col. Elijah Q. Gridley
March 5th, 1885 -
What follows is a summary of the last few weeks.
After rushing to Council Bluffs to rescue Faye, I set up a meeting with Proud Elk to negotiate her return. It seemed that Proud Elk's ancestors had been "haunting" his dreams to get the talisman returned to him. Well, Gus figured out that it might not be Indian Ancestors at all, but more likely it is either Booth, or the Theosophical Society. Proud Elk agreed to give us 60 days to make it stop or we would give the talisman back to him. I try to convince Faye to move to St. Louis, where it is safer, but she stays behind as we head back.
Once I got back to St. Louis, I gathered some of my earnings and took out copyrights on several of my potion titles, and started the Missourians Yearning for State Enrichment and Livability Fund. This will allow me to collect funds from like minded people in Missouri and combine those individual donations to, hopefully, have some real leveraging power in the state's political system. Granted, I will take an administrative fee for running the fund, but that only seems fair. Even have some fliers printed up and talked with the mail service about distributing them. I also hired a man named Augie to run the organization while I am working for the Agency. I foresee this as a groundbreaking new way to have an effect on how our elections are run, and making sure that people's voices are heard.
Once I got back to the house, I found that a certain Arch Bishop wanted me to meet him for breakfast. So after a night of drinking and gambling, I met them at the Church. It was there that they told me Col. Harrison Jeffers' last know whereabouts was in the Gettysburg graveyard, but apparently he didn't stay there. I'm not sure, just yet, what I'm going to do with that information, but the thought of a Harrowed Jeffers running around doesn't put me at ease to say the least. I suppose at some point I will need to find time to head to Pennsylvania.
Another interesting bit of information the Arch Bishop gave me was that our good friend Mr. Giorgio was following us everywhere. We ended up trapping him on a roof top and he said he was sent to keep us safe. We will see about that, but I suppose someone watching our back never hurt anyone. That evening we gained entrance into the Theosophical Society through some induction ritual that I could care less about. I just want to access what information they have and be done with them.
The next day we decided to ride out to a neighboring town and inspect a huge sinkhole that had opened up and swallowed the entire town. On the first night we are camped there we started to hear . . . I'm not sure what come flying up out of this hole. It was about a dozen man sized bats, and one of them was carrying some devilish looking creature. A pretty nasty fight ensued and thanks to a geologist named Jenkins and his handy anti-bat whistle, we barely made it out. Needless to say, the next morning, I rode back to St. Louis for reinforcements. Bullock used this new invention called a telephone to contact the head of the Agency, in Washington, and the St. Louis branch rode back to the sinkhole in force. With me in command, I might add.
Soon after, Bullock and a man named Teddy Roosevelt showed up. TR is the head of The Agency, and a pretty impressive fellow, to say the least. An accomplished hunter, fighter, and author, I'm going to keep my eye on him. I have a feeling he will be someone important someday. Luckily, I had a chance to get into his good graces when Clay and myself went down into the hole, and I found a spell to close it up and shut down the portal to hell. That's right, future readers of my memoirs, I closed a portal to hell. I also received my Agency badge and a full time salary. For a gentleman who has spent his life on the run, or in the shadows, I am not sure how comfortable I am with all of this new-found do-goodery.
After I defeated the devil, we went back to town and I delivered the fake sword to the church and then told them I'll have no more to do with them. My loyalties to this group have gotten quite strong. Even to the negro. I think I might have a group of real, in-the-flesh friends, and I don't quite cotton to someone asking me to betray them.
The biggest thing that happened, however, occurred this morning. We opened the paper to find that Miss Kitty had been caught in a cross-fire and killed. Needles to say, Clayton took this news pretty hard and kind of went off the rails. He pulled jurisdiction for the case from Rayford and then took the shooter to our warehouse for "questioning". Well after a well placed bullet and a lot of cleaning up, Clay found out that several people have been looking to take Clay out of the arms business for good. I'm not sure how all of that will turn out, but I'm sure it will be bloody. The next thing on our agenda is heading down to New Orleans and dealing with La Croix. But first, there is the matter of laying to rest our good friend Miss Kitty, so it is with a heavy heart that I put down my pen and end the story of these last few week's events.
What follows is a summary of the last few weeks.
After rushing to Council Bluffs to rescue Faye, I set up a meeting with Proud Elk to negotiate her return. It seemed that Proud Elk's ancestors had been "haunting" his dreams to get the talisman returned to him. Well, Gus figured out that it might not be Indian Ancestors at all, but more likely it is either Booth, or the Theosophical Society. Proud Elk agreed to give us 60 days to make it stop or we would give the talisman back to him. I try to convince Faye to move to St. Louis, where it is safer, but she stays behind as we head back.
Once I got back to St. Louis, I gathered some of my earnings and took out copyrights on several of my potion titles, and started the Missourians Yearning for State Enrichment and Livability Fund. This will allow me to collect funds from like minded people in Missouri and combine those individual donations to, hopefully, have some real leveraging power in the state's political system. Granted, I will take an administrative fee for running the fund, but that only seems fair. Even have some fliers printed up and talked with the mail service about distributing them. I also hired a man named Augie to run the organization while I am working for the Agency. I foresee this as a groundbreaking new way to have an effect on how our elections are run, and making sure that people's voices are heard.
Once I got back to the house, I found that a certain Arch Bishop wanted me to meet him for breakfast. So after a night of drinking and gambling, I met them at the Church. It was there that they told me Col. Harrison Jeffers' last know whereabouts was in the Gettysburg graveyard, but apparently he didn't stay there. I'm not sure, just yet, what I'm going to do with that information, but the thought of a Harrowed Jeffers running around doesn't put me at ease to say the least. I suppose at some point I will need to find time to head to Pennsylvania.
Another interesting bit of information the Arch Bishop gave me was that our good friend Mr. Giorgio was following us everywhere. We ended up trapping him on a roof top and he said he was sent to keep us safe. We will see about that, but I suppose someone watching our back never hurt anyone. That evening we gained entrance into the Theosophical Society through some induction ritual that I could care less about. I just want to access what information they have and be done with them.
The next day we decided to ride out to a neighboring town and inspect a huge sinkhole that had opened up and swallowed the entire town. On the first night we are camped there we started to hear . . . I'm not sure what come flying up out of this hole. It was about a dozen man sized bats, and one of them was carrying some devilish looking creature. A pretty nasty fight ensued and thanks to a geologist named Jenkins and his handy anti-bat whistle, we barely made it out. Needless to say, the next morning, I rode back to St. Louis for reinforcements. Bullock used this new invention called a telephone to contact the head of the Agency, in Washington, and the St. Louis branch rode back to the sinkhole in force. With me in command, I might add.
Soon after, Bullock and a man named Teddy Roosevelt showed up. TR is the head of The Agency, and a pretty impressive fellow, to say the least. An accomplished hunter, fighter, and author, I'm going to keep my eye on him. I have a feeling he will be someone important someday. Luckily, I had a chance to get into his good graces when Clay and myself went down into the hole, and I found a spell to close it up and shut down the portal to hell. That's right, future readers of my memoirs, I closed a portal to hell. I also received my Agency badge and a full time salary. For a gentleman who has spent his life on the run, or in the shadows, I am not sure how comfortable I am with all of this new-found do-goodery.
After I defeated the devil, we went back to town and I delivered the fake sword to the church and then told them I'll have no more to do with them. My loyalties to this group have gotten quite strong. Even to the negro. I think I might have a group of real, in-the-flesh friends, and I don't quite cotton to someone asking me to betray them.
The biggest thing that happened, however, occurred this morning. We opened the paper to find that Miss Kitty had been caught in a cross-fire and killed. Needles to say, Clayton took this news pretty hard and kind of went off the rails. He pulled jurisdiction for the case from Rayford and then took the shooter to our warehouse for "questioning". Well after a well placed bullet and a lot of cleaning up, Clay found out that several people have been looking to take Clay out of the arms business for good. I'm not sure how all of that will turn out, but I'm sure it will be bloody. The next thing on our agenda is heading down to New Orleans and dealing with La Croix. But first, there is the matter of laying to rest our good friend Miss Kitty, so it is with a heavy heart that I put down my pen and end the story of these last few week's events.
Friday, December 2, 2011
From the Journal of the Rev. Col. Elijah Q. Gridley
2/2/1885 -
We are Pulling out of Chicago heading for some hell hole called Council Buffs, Iowa. God only knows what we are going to find when we get there.
2/4/1885 -
Well, we have arrived at what I can only describe as an outpost on the edge of the civilized world. We stopped in to the livery to get horses and find a guide, and there I met the most enchanting woman I have ever laid eyes on. Red hair, pale skin, absolutely beautiful. So, knowing that no woman can resist my charms, I asked her out for dinner that evening, and she accepted. The rest of the boys went on to secure our guide, and get things ready for the trip out to the savages. Dinner was an absolute delight. So much so, that I even stayed partially sober. We said our good nights, and I retired to the comforts of a local inn.
2/9/1885 -
Well, the talisman is ours. After spending almost a week in the cold and the wild, we have acquired our objective. Running Water took us out to meet the Shaman Proud Elk, the owner of the talisman. After being hunted by something called a windigo, and having to worry about being scalped, we finally were allowed an audience with the Shaman. After some negotiating, trading him our opium, and winning some sort of smoking competition with him, we were given the talisman, which on closer inspection is a pretty amazing artifact. It can sense the undead, as well as provide a certain amount of protection against them. It can also allow you to speak with one of them, as well as make a place holy. The agency should be quite pleased with our work. On our way back, I discovered that Running Water was trying to give us some sort of sleeping draught so he could take the talisman and turn it over to the Theosophical Society, who had been after the very same item. Well, a little magic on my part, and intimidation on Gus' part, and he seemed to forget all about it. Needless to say when we arrived back at Council Bluffs we returned the horses, I gave Faye enough cash to come to St. Louis, if she so chose, and we promptly boarded our train for St. Louis.
2/17/1885 -
Well, it has been a productive couple of days. We arrived back in St. Louis and got our money from the Agency. Then it was on to our personal affairs. I have finally started brewing, and Clay has procured a brewing assistant for me. I should be ready to start selling, some time by the end of the month. I also had a meeting with Mayor Francis, and am working on a brand new idea for aiding my political aspirations. I also found some books on patent law, which is a pretty new thing, so I am investigating patenting my concoctions.
I also received a summons from the Arch-bishops of both St. Louis and Baltimore. Seems they have taken an interest in MR. Kestrall's sword, and have made me a very difficult offer to refuse. The sword in exchange for the church's "help" in my political career. I tell you, it is a hell of a thing. 2 months ago, I would not have thought twice about stealing this man's possession if I though it could help me in the least. Now, I don't know. Something has happened. I'm getting soft. I told Gus immediately, and he came up with a plan to forge a fake sword and give it to them. We will see if that works, but I doubt it.
We also received word from the Theosophical Society has granted us membership, and will be in town soon to conduct the ceremonies. I am not sure what all that means, but I think we should all keep our guard up.
Last night we checked out a grave robber who we were tipped off to by a couple of Agency prigs. Turns out they were sent to tail us after the Train Robbery, and then just decided to ask for Gus' help off the books. I don't like the looks of either one of them. Lyons and Gentleman Johnny Muir. Please! We did some investigation and discovered that some drunk frog was being tormented to go and look for some finger bone cross in old French graves. Gus seemed to be very interested in it. I was much more interested in who frenchy said was doing the tormenting. Turns out to be "The Devil Man, Mr. J.W. Booth". I talked to Bullock about this immediately. After some deliberation he said that if we got evidence on Booth, we could do something. And this evening, Clay and I did a pretty poor job of competing in a Poker Tournament. It has been a long time without sleep, so I am going to call it a day and put down my pen, ending the story of this weeks events.
2/18/1885 -
Bullock informed me that the savages have taken Faye and want to exchange her for the talisman. I'm leaving for Council Bluffs today.
We are Pulling out of Chicago heading for some hell hole called Council Buffs, Iowa. God only knows what we are going to find when we get there.
2/4/1885 -
Well, we have arrived at what I can only describe as an outpost on the edge of the civilized world. We stopped in to the livery to get horses and find a guide, and there I met the most enchanting woman I have ever laid eyes on. Red hair, pale skin, absolutely beautiful. So, knowing that no woman can resist my charms, I asked her out for dinner that evening, and she accepted. The rest of the boys went on to secure our guide, and get things ready for the trip out to the savages. Dinner was an absolute delight. So much so, that I even stayed partially sober. We said our good nights, and I retired to the comforts of a local inn.
2/9/1885 -
Well, the talisman is ours. After spending almost a week in the cold and the wild, we have acquired our objective. Running Water took us out to meet the Shaman Proud Elk, the owner of the talisman. After being hunted by something called a windigo, and having to worry about being scalped, we finally were allowed an audience with the Shaman. After some negotiating, trading him our opium, and winning some sort of smoking competition with him, we were given the talisman, which on closer inspection is a pretty amazing artifact. It can sense the undead, as well as provide a certain amount of protection against them. It can also allow you to speak with one of them, as well as make a place holy. The agency should be quite pleased with our work. On our way back, I discovered that Running Water was trying to give us some sort of sleeping draught so he could take the talisman and turn it over to the Theosophical Society, who had been after the very same item. Well, a little magic on my part, and intimidation on Gus' part, and he seemed to forget all about it. Needless to say when we arrived back at Council Bluffs we returned the horses, I gave Faye enough cash to come to St. Louis, if she so chose, and we promptly boarded our train for St. Louis.
2/17/1885 -
Well, it has been a productive couple of days. We arrived back in St. Louis and got our money from the Agency. Then it was on to our personal affairs. I have finally started brewing, and Clay has procured a brewing assistant for me. I should be ready to start selling, some time by the end of the month. I also had a meeting with Mayor Francis, and am working on a brand new idea for aiding my political aspirations. I also found some books on patent law, which is a pretty new thing, so I am investigating patenting my concoctions.
I also received a summons from the Arch-bishops of both St. Louis and Baltimore. Seems they have taken an interest in MR. Kestrall's sword, and have made me a very difficult offer to refuse. The sword in exchange for the church's "help" in my political career. I tell you, it is a hell of a thing. 2 months ago, I would not have thought twice about stealing this man's possession if I though it could help me in the least. Now, I don't know. Something has happened. I'm getting soft. I told Gus immediately, and he came up with a plan to forge a fake sword and give it to them. We will see if that works, but I doubt it.
We also received word from the Theosophical Society has granted us membership, and will be in town soon to conduct the ceremonies. I am not sure what all that means, but I think we should all keep our guard up.
Last night we checked out a grave robber who we were tipped off to by a couple of Agency prigs. Turns out they were sent to tail us after the Train Robbery, and then just decided to ask for Gus' help off the books. I don't like the looks of either one of them. Lyons and Gentleman Johnny Muir. Please! We did some investigation and discovered that some drunk frog was being tormented to go and look for some finger bone cross in old French graves. Gus seemed to be very interested in it. I was much more interested in who frenchy said was doing the tormenting. Turns out to be "The Devil Man, Mr. J.W. Booth". I talked to Bullock about this immediately. After some deliberation he said that if we got evidence on Booth, we could do something. And this evening, Clay and I did a pretty poor job of competing in a Poker Tournament. It has been a long time without sleep, so I am going to call it a day and put down my pen, ending the story of this weeks events.
2/18/1885 -
Bullock informed me that the savages have taken Faye and want to exchange her for the talisman. I'm leaving for Council Bluffs today.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
NPC Inventory, Volume 4
Russ Colgate, Head of The Agency's Chicago Branch
Dewey McLemore, High-end Tailor
Gen. Abner Doubleday, Union Army Commander at Gettysburg, high-ranking member of the Theosophical Society
Albert Spalding, owner, Chicago White Stockings and Spalding's Sporting Goods; member of the Theosophical Society
Adrian "Cap" Anson, Mike "King" Kelly, and Jim McCormick - Chicago White Stockings players
Running Water, Sioux Scout
Proud Elk, Sioux Shaman
Fernando Giorgio, Spanish-Italian dandy
Faye Jorgenson, livery operator in Council Bluff, Iowa
Harrison Carter, Mayor of Chicago
Mayer Lehman, head of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange
Garrett Blocker, young huckster and card shark, last seen operating in Pueblo, CO
Titian Ramsay Peale, environmentalist, photographer, inventor
Bat Masterson, Sheriff of Pueblo, CO
Philip Horton Nelson, surveyor and prospector in Pueblo, CO
Stories in the Hyde Park Herald (Chicago Newspaper)
IN GAME DATE: February 2, 1885 (Thursday)
Stories in the Hyde Park Herad:
1. Statement from The Mutual Lite Insurance Company of record for 1884
2. Story of the Ice Industry in Chicago
3. Criticism of the British Foriegn Policy in the Sudan.
4. 100 New Books donated to the Lyceum Reading Room by Gen. Abner Doubleday
5. Illinois legislature proposes redistricting for state congress.
6. Review of the recently completed Washington Monument in DC
7. Re-print of Darius Hellstromme's wedding announcement (1st published in Chicago)
8. Improvement plan ratified for the docks along the Calumet River - expected to add several labor jobs.
9. Major social event of the season - Mayor Harrison's birthday party - at the Kenwood Club tonight.
10. Boy, John Fedke, 13, died while walking the train tracks near Hyde Park. Mr. Fedke, who was deaf, is the son of prominent Chicago lawyer Ramses Fedke.
11. 3 Fine Horses for Sale - 123 Brompton Street. See Asa Taylor.
12. Harry Scully lead elocution seminar at 75 22nd Street. Mr. Scully, of the Boston School of Oratory.
13. Editorial - the odd people of Pennsylvania and their Groundhog ritual.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
From the Journal of the Rev. Col. Elijah Q. Gridley
February 1, 1885 -
Ohhh, my head. To say I feel like I have been accosted by a locomotive would be an understatement. It seems I have, again, been remiss in writing, so what follows are the high, and low lights of the last few weeks.
After a short stop in Pueblo, Colorado, where I received the honor of being photographed, we boarded a train and crossed the plains to Chicago. What a wonderful city! It has all of the comforts of the civilized metropolis' you find back east, but it still has the frontier elements that allow someone like myself to move freely between the cracks. Upon arriving we went to meet our contact, Yancey Fairchild. We met him at a little restaurant that serves something called pizza. It is basically a piece of Italian flat bread with tomato sauce and cheese spread on it. Then they put various meats on top of that and bake it. Not the worst thing in the world, but I can't see such a foreign tasting food catching on here in the good old US of A.
Anyway, we meet up with Mr. Fairchild and he tells us we are to meet the head of the Chicago Branch, Mr. Rusty Colgate, tomorrow morning. So the good Dr. Sanbell and I decide to take in the best that this fair city has to offer. And let me tell you what, it has allot to offer! We make our way to the nicest casino/saloon in town where we are greeted by a man named Fernando Giorgio, who has one of the finest suits I have ever seen. After a discussion of his tailor and cobbler he takes us to a table to play some cards. Here we were introduced to a man who runs the Chicago Mercantile Exchange named Meyer Laymen and a certain Rusty Colgate. After a pleasant evening of libation and other vices I headed off to bed.
The next morning I set out in search of Dewey MacLamore and Theodore Castle - Fernando's brilliant tailor and cobbler. After I place my order with them it's off to the Agency HQ to get info on this talisman or something. I am not quite sure. When we arrive, Colgate meets us outside and says we can't go in because something has happened and all the employees are acting "strange". Well, either Murphy or Gus decided the "right" thing to do was go and investigate, so we went in. I am in no way comfortable with the heroics of these two men. I fear that I will wind up quite dead because of their savior complex.
Once we enter, we realize that Colgate was underselling the behavior of his employees. There were people hiding under desks, and talking to people that they "saw" on the ceiling. To be fair even Murphy and myself got a little spooked. No pun intended. I cast a spell that provided a safe place for us to operate and we started putting the affected people in that space. That seemed to clear up their head a bit. Murphy found a room with some weird device that seemed to be causing all of this. He disabled it with his rifle, and then everything seemed to get back to normal. Of course, he couldn't wait till I was done perusing the restricted section of the library, but I suppose expediency was the right course of action.
Later that day, Gus approaches me and informs me that if we are to be taken seriously out on the frontier, then perhaps my traveling attire needs to be re-thought. Apparently, my "friends" thought it would be funny to make me look like a complete ass. When I think about that hat, and those ridiculous chaps . . . well, justice will be served. Just not yet. Regardless, I digress.
That evening, Murphy comes to us and says he has been approached by a member of the Theosophical Society about entrance. Of course, I am all for hearing the pitch. We go to a particular bar and there in front of me are star members of the White Stockings! Cap Anson, and Kelly, as well as their owner Spalding. I tried my best to convey how much the fine city of Baltimore would appreciate their services, but I'm not sure I got through. It was quite an honor to be sitting here with these men, OH! And Abner Doubleday was there. Gen. Doubleday himself! He is the Grand High Mucky Muck for this chapter I'm guessing. After a little more baseball talk, he starts in on his pitch. Something about Science and Truth and knowledge. To be honest, I didn't really listen. I am not sure how informed this group is in the ways of demon binding, but if they have access to older copies of the book, or access to powers greater than my own, I must find out, so I say "sign me up". Either I will be able to expand my power, or they will have nothing. If the latter holds true, then I will be their new master and I will have access group of devoted followers who just happen to be held in very high social esteem.
As the evening progresses we head back to some Theosophical headquarters and learn more. Doubleday intimates that they have old copies of the book here, and at this point I am ready to put my name on the line. Then Gus decides he has some trumped up issues about a church that doesn't even want him to be a member. That guy sure could benefit from a bad drunk and a good lay. After telling Doubleday that three of us are game, he tells us that the vetting will begin and we leave. This was a bit disappointing, to say the least. We stop in at a saloon and do quite nicely at the poker table. And I have the good fortune to be at the table with the Hon. Mayor of Chicago. We spend some time discussing the threats facing our great nation, and he seemed, to me, the type of man I could use in my fold. I will need to find a way to get a little more time with his honor.
This morning, I got up, and went to see Colgate. I asked to have my criminal history sealed and he said he would see what he could do. I figure if I am going to be playing cards with the Mayor and getting vetted by the high society type, I ought to hide as much of my past as possible. Then I brought up the Theosophical Society to Mr. Colgate and he became immediately apoplectic. Apparently the Society has been in the habit of stealing agents from him. I told him I would do my best to investigate what was occurring. After that I met up with the rest of the group to share what I had just learned. Murphy suggested we go back to the society and have a little chat.
When we arrived at the building we found it abandoned and emptied. Like nothing had been there at all. I suspect that the society knew we were agents all along and were hunting for us for some reason. Murphy decides we should go to an opium den to see if we can find any members for questioning. Now I couldn't let him walk into a den alone, so Sanbell and I went with him. I loaded my pipe and after that things get a little hazy. All I remember is this guy talking about the man who makes the bad dreams - Booth. I don't know quite what to make of all this yet.
The next thing I remember is gut wrenching pain, and a feeling like I wanted to climb out of my skin. Apparently Gus decided he would clear my head of the opium by stopping all of the toxins that were running through my body. Now that might not sound like much, but for a man who has spent the last decade always a little drunk, it was a living hell. After 10 years of whiskey for breakfast lunch and dinner, the real world looked frightening, to say the least. In addition, the pain in my body was immense, so Gus took mercy on me and did something to stop the pain. After that, I felt great, and wanted to go out for a drink. Gus then reminded me that I couldn't feel it because of the magic he had performed. That is when I got the best idea I had had in months. If I couldn't get drunk for the next 4 hours, then it seemed only right that I take advantage of that. Sanbell and I went out to find a drinking contest for usto scam.
And we found one! This little hovel of a bar, filled with the worst Chicago had to offer ended up putting up close to $7,000 for this contest. And as we are looking for an opponent, the biggest man in the room sits down to challenge me. The biggest man in the room being one Augustine Kestrall! That no good son of a bitch decided he was going to "teach me a lesson" and performed the same magic on himself! Needless to say, I fought hard, but could not beat that bastard. I passed out and the next thing I know I am here being slapped awake by Murphy, who smells strangely of smoke. I am not sure where the other two are, but once my head stops pounding, I have a few choice words for Mr. Kestrall! Now, however, I can't hardly keep my head off the pillow, so I set down my pen and end the story of the last few weeks events.
Ohhh, my head. To say I feel like I have been accosted by a locomotive would be an understatement. It seems I have, again, been remiss in writing, so what follows are the high, and low lights of the last few weeks.
After a short stop in Pueblo, Colorado, where I received the honor of being photographed, we boarded a train and crossed the plains to Chicago. What a wonderful city! It has all of the comforts of the civilized metropolis' you find back east, but it still has the frontier elements that allow someone like myself to move freely between the cracks. Upon arriving we went to meet our contact, Yancey Fairchild. We met him at a little restaurant that serves something called pizza. It is basically a piece of Italian flat bread with tomato sauce and cheese spread on it. Then they put various meats on top of that and bake it. Not the worst thing in the world, but I can't see such a foreign tasting food catching on here in the good old US of A.
Anyway, we meet up with Mr. Fairchild and he tells us we are to meet the head of the Chicago Branch, Mr. Rusty Colgate, tomorrow morning. So the good Dr. Sanbell and I decide to take in the best that this fair city has to offer. And let me tell you what, it has allot to offer! We make our way to the nicest casino/saloon in town where we are greeted by a man named Fernando Giorgio, who has one of the finest suits I have ever seen. After a discussion of his tailor and cobbler he takes us to a table to play some cards. Here we were introduced to a man who runs the Chicago Mercantile Exchange named Meyer Laymen and a certain Rusty Colgate. After a pleasant evening of libation and other vices I headed off to bed.
The next morning I set out in search of Dewey MacLamore and Theodore Castle - Fernando's brilliant tailor and cobbler. After I place my order with them it's off to the Agency HQ to get info on this talisman or something. I am not quite sure. When we arrive, Colgate meets us outside and says we can't go in because something has happened and all the employees are acting "strange". Well, either Murphy or Gus decided the "right" thing to do was go and investigate, so we went in. I am in no way comfortable with the heroics of these two men. I fear that I will wind up quite dead because of their savior complex.
Once we enter, we realize that Colgate was underselling the behavior of his employees. There were people hiding under desks, and talking to people that they "saw" on the ceiling. To be fair even Murphy and myself got a little spooked. No pun intended. I cast a spell that provided a safe place for us to operate and we started putting the affected people in that space. That seemed to clear up their head a bit. Murphy found a room with some weird device that seemed to be causing all of this. He disabled it with his rifle, and then everything seemed to get back to normal. Of course, he couldn't wait till I was done perusing the restricted section of the library, but I suppose expediency was the right course of action.
Later that day, Gus approaches me and informs me that if we are to be taken seriously out on the frontier, then perhaps my traveling attire needs to be re-thought. Apparently, my "friends" thought it would be funny to make me look like a complete ass. When I think about that hat, and those ridiculous chaps . . . well, justice will be served. Just not yet. Regardless, I digress.
That evening, Murphy comes to us and says he has been approached by a member of the Theosophical Society about entrance. Of course, I am all for hearing the pitch. We go to a particular bar and there in front of me are star members of the White Stockings! Cap Anson, and Kelly, as well as their owner Spalding. I tried my best to convey how much the fine city of Baltimore would appreciate their services, but I'm not sure I got through. It was quite an honor to be sitting here with these men, OH! And Abner Doubleday was there. Gen. Doubleday himself! He is the Grand High Mucky Muck for this chapter I'm guessing. After a little more baseball talk, he starts in on his pitch. Something about Science and Truth and knowledge. To be honest, I didn't really listen. I am not sure how informed this group is in the ways of demon binding, but if they have access to older copies of the book, or access to powers greater than my own, I must find out, so I say "sign me up". Either I will be able to expand my power, or they will have nothing. If the latter holds true, then I will be their new master and I will have access group of devoted followers who just happen to be held in very high social esteem.
As the evening progresses we head back to some Theosophical headquarters and learn more. Doubleday intimates that they have old copies of the book here, and at this point I am ready to put my name on the line. Then Gus decides he has some trumped up issues about a church that doesn't even want him to be a member. That guy sure could benefit from a bad drunk and a good lay. After telling Doubleday that three of us are game, he tells us that the vetting will begin and we leave. This was a bit disappointing, to say the least. We stop in at a saloon and do quite nicely at the poker table. And I have the good fortune to be at the table with the Hon. Mayor of Chicago. We spend some time discussing the threats facing our great nation, and he seemed, to me, the type of man I could use in my fold. I will need to find a way to get a little more time with his honor.
This morning, I got up, and went to see Colgate. I asked to have my criminal history sealed and he said he would see what he could do. I figure if I am going to be playing cards with the Mayor and getting vetted by the high society type, I ought to hide as much of my past as possible. Then I brought up the Theosophical Society to Mr. Colgate and he became immediately apoplectic. Apparently the Society has been in the habit of stealing agents from him. I told him I would do my best to investigate what was occurring. After that I met up with the rest of the group to share what I had just learned. Murphy suggested we go back to the society and have a little chat.
When we arrived at the building we found it abandoned and emptied. Like nothing had been there at all. I suspect that the society knew we were agents all along and were hunting for us for some reason. Murphy decides we should go to an opium den to see if we can find any members for questioning. Now I couldn't let him walk into a den alone, so Sanbell and I went with him. I loaded my pipe and after that things get a little hazy. All I remember is this guy talking about the man who makes the bad dreams - Booth. I don't know quite what to make of all this yet.
The next thing I remember is gut wrenching pain, and a feeling like I wanted to climb out of my skin. Apparently Gus decided he would clear my head of the opium by stopping all of the toxins that were running through my body. Now that might not sound like much, but for a man who has spent the last decade always a little drunk, it was a living hell. After 10 years of whiskey for breakfast lunch and dinner, the real world looked frightening, to say the least. In addition, the pain in my body was immense, so Gus took mercy on me and did something to stop the pain. After that, I felt great, and wanted to go out for a drink. Gus then reminded me that I couldn't feel it because of the magic he had performed. That is when I got the best idea I had had in months. If I couldn't get drunk for the next 4 hours, then it seemed only right that I take advantage of that. Sanbell and I went out to find a drinking contest for usto scam.
And we found one! This little hovel of a bar, filled with the worst Chicago had to offer ended up putting up close to $7,000 for this contest. And as we are looking for an opponent, the biggest man in the room sits down to challenge me. The biggest man in the room being one Augustine Kestrall! That no good son of a bitch decided he was going to "teach me a lesson" and performed the same magic on himself! Needless to say, I fought hard, but could not beat that bastard. I passed out and the next thing I know I am here being slapped awake by Murphy, who smells strangely of smoke. I am not sure where the other two are, but once my head stops pounding, I have a few choice words for Mr. Kestrall! Now, however, I can't hardly keep my head off the pillow, so I set down my pen and end the story of the last few weeks events.
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