Fantasy Bounty

[Vudukudu]

The town of Junction, Colorado, was never a particularly well known place, and that may be why no one really noticed when it disappeared one foggy day, the fourth of July, 1861. Perhaps in the turmoil of the American Civil War, a small town of only some 180 people was forgettable. Though there is only dust where Junction once stood, the people of Junction are not gone. They’re just.. Somewhere else.

On the fourth of July, 1861, the people of Junction woke up to an unfamiliar scene. Instead of the familiar mountain valley their town resided in, they found themselves transported to a sagebrush steppe. The transition had been silent, and not quite perfect. In the teleportation, some buildings collapsed, some disappeared, and a few people were either crushed by rubble or vanished entirely. The town immediately went into a panic, especially when they found their fancy telegram machine was no longer connected to its wires. That evening, a keen eye discovered something peculiar - the night sky just weren’t quite right, and a keener mind drew a quick conclusion - they weren’t on Earth anymore.

And that gentleman was right. The stars weren’t right, because the folk of Junction were somewhere else. They now call this new place Bounty, and there are a lot of things that ain’t quite right about Bounty.

 

[Vudukudu]

Junction:
Date: July 4th, 1861, between the hours of 12 A.M and 4:15 A.M.​

The date is July 4th, 1861. As many small towns and even large cities across the country did, Junction celebrated the birth of the great American experiment with all the patriotic extravagance that could be mustered. The town was festooned in red, white, and blue, as were the people who gathered about the little town's three saloons. The whole populace was present, all 183 citizens of Wyatt County, whether they be from the city proper or the town's surrounding lands. In the middle of the Civil War, Junction, a staunchly pro-Union town, would not pass up the opportunity to drink and revel in their young nation's glory. Men in suits and women in dresses danced well into the evening to the cheery piano tunes booming out from the saloons, and children played in the streets or watched a few of the adult men shoot off the crate of fireworks they'd had shipped in on one of the great steam engines passing through Denver.

Luca Ricci, proud owner and bartender of the Imperial Saloon, was busy as expected. With the Orient shut down, the Imperial and Zang's were the only joints in town, and the nearly two hundred people of Junction and its surrounding countryside had each establishment packed tighter than a can of sardines. Fortunately, they'd managed to stockpile enough drink for the occasion, and beer flowed from taps freely, quite literally at the Imperial: Luca didn't charge for beer on holidays, though liquor still had a price. Of course it hurt the bottom line, but that wasn't exactly a concern of the mysteriously wealthy Italian expatriate. Two boys at his bar, maybe eighteen years old at best, chattered away about enlisting in the Union Army to "beat those seditious sons-a-bitches back into the swamps," prompting Luca to glance over his shoulder. Mounted on the wall above the shelves were the only pieces of evidence about the Italian's past - a retired Carcano 1844 rifle and a rapier with a fencing dagger crossed over it. The rifle, like most, was a single-shot percussion cap affair, though the friendly Italian also kept a Model 1851 Navy revolver and a single-barrel shotgun under his bar. He'd never had to use them, but he enjoyed hunting with Laura Ingersoll, someone who's moderate outsider status appeals to him.

The festivities went well into the evening, until every liquor-besotted reveler and sober adult or child had fallen asleep, either at home in bed or strewn about unconsciously across town. Luca remained awake well into the night, sipping on strong coffee with the few folks who'd managed to stay awake and trading stories. He didn't talk about his past often, but in the spirit of the holiday, and with America's own civil war raging, he was in a more open mood. After all, a few tales of his time leading partisans in Sicily wouldn't hurt.

Somewhere in the Milky Way:​

The comet streaked across the stars, leaving behind it a dazzling ribbon of purple and green light. It careened wildly through space, emanating heat even in the cold darkness of the void. In the distance, the faint glint of a blue and green planet came into view, and the comet continued to hurtle towards it.

It was hungry, and when it felt the pulse of life, still countless trillions of miles away, it hummed with desire.

Junction: ​

The object struck the center of Junction at 4:17 A.M, and in so doing, threw off the entire course of Junction's existence. When it touched ground, it left an eight foot deep impact crater before exploding, setting the Sheriff's Office, Barbershop, and the Imperial Saloon aflame. A purple wave of energy rippled forth, enveloping the entire town and miles around it, transporting the whole of Wyatt County to a far away world. Its people wouldn't likely notice until their new sun rose - even with the glowing flames licking across town, it was too dark to truly see beyond the town limits. The unfortunate few sleeping on chairs near the impact site would not live to see their new home. The comet's impact site sprouted tendrils, wicked looking things pulsing with otherworldly vigor, and they rapidly sought out prey. Those they grasped only had time to loose a scream before their flesh boiled away, seeping into the dirt beneath. Apparently sated, the tendrils go slack, still pulsing with life but no longer hunting.

The people of Junction awake to chaos, their town in flames, and a dark new world.

 

[ShakinMcBacon]

~Before impact~
Saul didn't celebrate with the townsfolk, nor did he acknowledge the day as particularly important or special. Despite this, he drank his fill from the free beer offered, but declined to partake in any conversation, simply watching as countless men came and went from the saloon, coming in full of energy and leaving half asleep and stumbling. The closest thing to an interaction he had was drinking coffee with the bartender and a couple of other folks. Not saying a word, he simply listened to each man's tale. Some were sombre, others nostalgic, and still more comical. Saul was the first to get up, thank the Italian briefly, and walk out to go home and fall asleep quickly.

~Immediately after impact~
Saul awoke with a start as the impact of some large object stirred him from his half drunk, half sleeping stupor. Rising slowly from his cot, he pulled on a pair of pants. Hearing muffled screams, he picked up his old colt .44, and calmly loaded it as he walked out the front door, stopping on the porch to view the dormant tentacles that seemed to pulse with an eerie malignity. The saloon, barbershop, and sheriff's office were all alight, and he could see a crude bucket line forming to save the Imperial Saloon. Saul wouldn't miss the sheriff and his prying questions, but nonetheless he made his way down the street, cocking the pistol's lever back. Whatever the creature was, it had life, and he knew he had to end it.

Bare-chested in the cool summer night that burned with flames, he stood before the still creature, watching it. Shouts grew as more of the townspeople roused themselves from bed, and Saul lifted the pistol to sight the barrel on one of the tentacles, and fired.

 

[The Forgotten Host]

~Before impact~
Betsey Washington arrived in America in the last slave ship that would dock the harbor of the young nation. That was two years ago. And every moment of her life after that was one gauntlet after the next. Six months later, after multiple failed attempts and a meriod agonizing punishments, she escaped her captors and fled East. A tall brawny woman, of staggering mind and character, she dawned a union uniform, concealed her face, and marched North. Eventually she reached Colorado where the festivities and celebrations offered an opportunity for an ever so rare pit stop. Betsey lied down under a birch tree, her hand firmly gripped onto the whip that had scarred her back in her time with her captors, a reminder of why she could never be taken again. Her dagger remained holstered in her belt, in case she lost the whip.

~Immediately after impact~
Betsey shot up, her whip ready take names. Instead of an angry mob, she heard muffled screams out in the distance. There was a moment of trepidation. She could try running away, but people were beginning to wake up, and she doubted she could get out of town without looking suspicious, especially with her face covered the way it was. Her whip tight in her hand, and the impatient dagger still holstered, she proceeded cautiously.

The pyres licked the cool night sky as the tendrils lay dormant. Betsey took a deep tremerous breath, the reality of her situation somehow darker than anything she could have ever dreamt up.

 

[Dragongal]

Before Impact
Ella Hilden had been enjoying the festivities like anyone, except sans alcohol. She liked to stay sober when everyone else was drunk, so that she could help anyone who might injure themselves in their revelry. Not to mention, it was safer to be sober when others were not. Throughout the night, she split her time between the Imperial Saloon and Zang's. As the festitivites died down, she figured she qould be called upon if needed, and went home early and crawled into bed.

After Impact
Ella woke up, not entirely certain that the loud noise and the shaking of the earth had even been real. Maybe she had just dreamed them. That seemed like the most likely option. Until she heard screaming. In a flash, she had on her typical attire of a short dress over pants, and grabbed her sawed-off shotgun as she ran out the door. By the time she got there, one or two other people had begun to gather, but the thing, whatever it was, was already... Dead? Tired? Playing dead as a trap? Whatever those disgusting things were, Ella knew they were trouble, and opted to not get very close.

Looking around, she saw Saul and an unknown black woman she had never seen before. But the woman was armed, and Ella knew better than to ask questions. Well, not questions about the woman anyway. At that moment, everything else was acceptable to question.

 

[Vudukudu]

Junction:
Date: July 5th, 1861, 4:17 AM​

"And there I am, rapier in hand, dagger turning away a bayonet, when --"

The world went up in flames, and screams followed shortly thereafter. "Dio ci salvi." Luca murmured, leaping over the bar counter and running for the door. The Imperial's porch had just caught fire, and it spread to the door before he could get out. By now, even the drunk patrons asleep in his establishment had awoken, panicking as smoke filled the room. "Everyone out the back! Up, up, up!" He shouted, hefting a wailing child who had gone to sleep on the piano bench into his arms. He was the last to leave and dropped the kid off before urging the rest to start hauling water. With the others safe, he rushed back inside, braving the smoke and flame long enough to retrieve his pistol and a thick wad of cash before soaking the bartop in water. His personal belongings were upstairs, and he'd just have to hope the flames could be extinguished before they reached the second floor, or damaged the building enough to cause a collapse. By the time he'd finished, the flames had already surged across the room and engulfed the back exit. Watching it spread, he couldn't help but feel like a trapped animal, or that the wreath of flames was somehow hungry and alive.

With what little time he had left to make a decision, he splashed the remaining half-full glasses of water and beer on himself. The latter didn't contain enough alcohol to ignite, and would hopefully help keep him from igniting. Braving the heat, he dashed through the fire and dove out one of the front windows, hitting the porch in a hail of glass and splintered wood. His left arm had caught, and he let out a pained scream before someone doused him with one of the water buckets they'd been carrying. Before he could thank them, a gunshot cracked out in the night sky, reawakening the beast and its tendrils. One lashed toward Luca, gutting the woman who'd put him out and reducing her to a pile of ash and brittle bone in a heartbeat before ripping the Italian clean off the porch.

The other tendrils swung out with the same frenzied sense of purpose, crashing through wooden fencing and walls to reach their prey. As Luca was dragged flailing through the air, he managed to lay eyes on the other four victims: a black woman who looked to be some sort of outlaw, the town's apothecary Ella Hilden, the grocer Saul, and Laura Ingersoll. The next few moments were a dizzying array of sights as the thing whipped its captives around like ragdolls, shaking the life out of them and slamming them into the dirt road. Its touch had been cool at first, but now began to burn with an unbearable fury. He'd been grabbed by the left arm, and the pain of it between his burns and this new sensation was nearly blinding. Shouts of "Kill it!" filled the air, and Luca's world went black when his head cracked against a stone in the road.

Fortunately, the people of Junction are nothing if not well-armed. The fusillade of pistols and shotguns going off was only outmatched by the creature's infernal screeching, a din that drove most to cover their ears, little good that it did. The thing leaked green ichor from dozens of holes, flailing its prey about with palpable rage until a final salvo splattered green-grey pulp across the crater. It fell still, and in their battered and bruised state, a vision came to those it had touched.

Fire. A legion of corpses, stretched as far as the eye could see, shambling across a plain. A creature dressed in yellow rags, cackling as its three-fingered hand pushed its claws into a screaming infant, silencing it. A dark swamp, flashes of impossibly fast movement behind every tree. A woman, her stomach swollen and stretched, exploding into a cloud of insects. A hole in the sky, and a Cyclopean monstrosity crawling out of it. The vastness of space, and the distinct knowledge that something is watching them back.

More shots followed, insuring the creature was truly dead as others tended to the injured or returned to dousing the flame. The creature's victims each bore its mark now - wherever it had grabbed them, the veins and arteries had been seared black and showed through the skin, though this would almost certainly go unnoticed until later. For now, the people of Junction faced the knowledge that something inconceivable had fallen from the sky, set fire to their homes, and killed a dozen people before it fell.

And above them, glittering in the sky, floated two greenish moons.

 

[ShakinMcBacon]

Saul managed to fire off two more rounds before the creature sprang to life and darted out to snatch him with an unnatural speed. Bound by their iron-like grip, he was thrown about like a rag doll, the pistol slipping out of his hand as his vision became a blurred streak of flames and the night sky. More gunshots were heard as his consciousness faded.

What creatures mankind manages to create...
Are you not unlike the beast that clings to you?
Do you not yearn to kill just as it does?

A deep, resounding voice spoke from a void upon which Saul stood. He replied, and felt the words slip from his lips without thought.

"Yes,"

Then why do you wish to kill your brethren?

"I want to,"

Why?

"It bleeds,"

If you were to seek out these beasts, to make them bleed, to feel their life end; would you feel fulfilled?

"Yes,"

Then go, wreck havoc, reap the rewards...

"But at what cost?"

Cost? You have already decided your fate.

With that, Saul was consumed by void, and opened his eyes to the two new moons that watched him from his position lying on his back in the dirt. He felt oddly calm as he sat up, bruised and battered but feeling little pain. He stood up slowly, waving away someone who tried to assist him, and stared at the corpse of the beast. It saddened him that he could not have been the killer, but somehow he knew that there would be more prey. The fires still burned, but not at the intensity or volume as before, and Saul retrieved his pistol before simply turning around and walking back to the grocery, to ponder the night's events.

 

[Dragongal]

Ella had dropped her gun when the thing wrapped a tentacle around her right arm and yanked her right off of her feet. Naturally she screamed, then found that screaming made breathing too difficult, and if she wanted to survive this, she should probably breathe. She tried to claw at the alien limb with her free hand, her efforts only increasing as it started to burn her. Once or twice, it smacked her on the ground, and when the burning was most horrible, when she thought her arm might melt, it died and dropped them all, and she hit the ground with a loud thump. Her mind flitted between consciousness and unconsciousness, but after the visions she saw, she finally fainted.

She woke a few minutes later, sore, bruised, and battered, but she considered herself lucky nonetheless. After slowly climbing to her feet, she looked around and took stock of the situation. At that moment, she would do anything to avoid thinking about what she had seen. Maybe focusing on others would make her whole body stop shaking. That meant tending to the wounded, and the most clearly wounded at that moment was Luca. Ella could see where some blood was running from where his head had struck a stone in the road. She sent a woman to go to her house and retrieve her medical kit, then found her gun before going to Luca's side. In a moment she had her kit, and gently wiped the wound on his head with water, then with alcohol. He was lucky that his skull hadn't cracked. Hell, he was lucky to be alive - they all were.

 

[Vudukudu]

Luca's world spun when he awoke. His world spinning, the first thing he laid sight on was Ella's face hanging over his, sporting a particularly nasty bruise over her left eye. He'd seen her, she'd been battered by the thing too. The splitting pain in his head was only matched by that of his seared arm, and he let out a feeble groan, but no words. He coughed hard, and the dazed look on his face turned to fear in the blink of an eye.

He hadn't seen it at first, too stunned to pay it any mind, but something was off. "E-Ella. Your eyes." He stammered, propping himself up on his hands and crawling back a few hurried inches. It was dark, the only light coming from a few flickering lanterns. The blaze had vanished as soon as the beast perished, leaving a line of confused, bucket-toting men and women, but there was still just bright enough for him to see that the blood vessels in her eyes had blackened, much like the seared veins showing on her arm and his. He watched the black web expand in her eyes, finally crossing from left to right until her eyes had more color than not. His were doing the same, though much more quickly, and the same symptom would begin to appear in the others who'd survived the beast's grasp. It had marked them, though what that meant was yet to be discovered.

The townspeople, now under the watchful eye of the very weary and very hungover Mayor LaGrange, began discussing what to do now.

"We oughta burn the thing, send it back to the fires of hell that spit it out." Someone shouted, swinging a kerosene lantern towards the crater and the bubbling green thing.

"You saw what happened when the grocer put a bullet in it, woke the damn thing up. Best to just bury it deep, roll a big ol' stone over it until we can blow the damn thing with some of Tom's dynamite." Another voice called out. While they were discussing, the fire and brimstone preaching pastor, Father Pete Townsend, took action. First dousing the thing's corpse with a heavy sprinkle of holy water, he proceeded to set its remains to the torch. The smoke smelled acrid and metallic, but at least the creature stirred no more.

 

[ShakinMcBacon]

Saul was halfway down the street when he paused. He realized a stinging sensation in his arm he had not noticed previously. Looking down, he found his veins an inky black as they wound up his arm, like tiny vines of death that creeped along his body. Tracing them with his finger, he felt they were ever so slightly raised, and for one of the few times in his life, Saul felt chills run down his spine. His whole chest was similarly covered, and the few folks around him eyed him like he had just crawled from the depths of hell. Looking back toward the beast, he found the fires were now suddenly extinguished. Something wasn't right, Saul knew that much. The void, the voice, the creature, the moons, this wasn't his own madness creeping upon him. He noticed Ella tending to the bartender, and he thought he saw similar scars upon their arms, yet no one else seemed to be afflicted. Breaking his habit of remaining out of other people's business, he walked back to the pair, ignoring the bewildered stares. The preacher set the thing alight as Saul stopped a few paces from Ella and Luca. By now he could see their eyes were like the void he had stood upon.

"The scars. You have them too," He spoke matter-of-factly, addressing the pair. By now his eyes were clouded by the black web, and he appeared a hellish creature cloaked in inky vines.

 

[Dragongal]

Ella had initually tried to calm Luca down with gentle words and a soft tone so he wouldn't move too much - who knew what a head wound like his could do. But when he scrambled away from her, she realized something was actually wrong, besides the pain in her arm, her wrenched shoulder, and the bruises all over. Her eyes felt fine, besides her left eye. When she noticed the color spreading in his eyes, though, she figured it out - that must have been what was happening to her eyes. It was absolutely horrifying to see, and worse to imagine that it was happening to her too. "Luca, your eyes too!" The only thing he and her had in common, though, was that they were grabbed by that monster.

Now that her adrenaline was running out, her body really started to hurt. The preacher lit the monster on fire, and Ella made sure she was out of the way of the flames. When Saul approached, she slowly got to her feet, then examined her arm. Her right sleeve was in tatters, and on her back, just below the peak of her shoulder, the shirt was burned also and the black mark could be seen. "It stings, but it's not a burn, not really," Ella said quietly. Next thing she noticed was that Saul's eyes were dark too, like Luca's, and she assumed her own. She wanted to ask if they had seen the horrible vision too, but didn't want to push her luck. "And your eyes are like ours." Very quietly, she asked in evident fear, "What did it do to us?" As she looked between the two men.