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Hung from the neck


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Sha’ir waited, frantically trying to figure out what to do, paralyzed by his options. None of whom felt even remotely useful in the current situation. He considered all sorts of things, from calling in backup, to just letting Creek do his thing. Neither of those, ‘nor any of the other things he considered, really felt like the right choice.

 

It was only when Creek addressed him that an idea struck. One he could probably work with, at least for now.

 

“Depends on which town you want. There’s the city, but if you wanna track down proper murderers, you’ll probably find more in the rural areas. “ Was that true? Potentially. Hakim didn’t really venture outside of the ECs too much, he didn’t need to bother with all that potential baggage.

 

Meanwhile, he ducked down, touching the ground with his hand and slowly rising up, drawing a spirit up, which soon took the form of a spectral horse. “It’s not quite the real thing, but let’s see about that…”

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GM

 

When not shooting, Creek was gruff but cordial. Perhaps even friendly in a grim kind of way. As he had proclaimed, he had no wish for violence against the Spellsmith, although he would not hesitate. 

 

"the hills? the fields? Ain't seemin' likely" he mused, his hand actually reaching to his undead leather cheek to scratch it. Some dead flesh came off under his nails. 

 

"Always was murderin' happened most in the cities. Seen some bloody business out of em, too. But more people live in the cities, and that means more murders too. Sounds to me..." he said slowly, the pieces falling together. "You tellin' me a good tale. Hell knows why you want to stop me from dishin' out righteous justice. Or maybe heaven knows. But I ain't know saint or sinner, not now. Just doin' what compells me..." he added, gazing at the horizon. 

 

It would be a glorious sunset soon. 

 

"You got a good way of tellin tales, boy. Ain't no denyin' it. Almost got me belevin' you. But I'm heading to the city. Mah guns got work to do..." he concluded, grimly. 

 

He was not in a hurry, but he was not slow either, he kicked the horse into a gentle canter...

 

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  • 1 month later...

What was this guy’s deal? It seemed pretty simple, but somehow it felt like there was more to it. Maybe Hakim had just gotten too used to seeing patterns, after all that was pretty much how Sha’ir’s magic worked. There had to be some way of dealing with this guy.

 

Then he had an idea. It was a long shot, but with this kind of seemingly no-escape curse, perhaps it was an approach. Of course, figuring out anything else about who spoke it meant learning more about Creek. Getting that information could be difficult, but it wasn’t impossible, certainly.

 

Sha’ir jumped onto the spectral horse he’d just summoned with little effort, and tried to keep pace with Creek.

 

“So, tell me more about you. Where you from, and why’d you show up here of all places? Probably some distance from where you lived back in the day?”

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GM

 

Now that the Spellsmith was not attempting to stop Creek in his furious mission, Creek did not seem antagnostic. Hardly friendly, still gruff, but a glimmer of bitter warmth in his demanour. 

 

"Was a long time ago" he grunted. "Back when I was a man. A bitter sag of sourness, but a man all the same" he drawled, riding at a moderate pace. The saddle suited him, and he knew how to ride. Perhaps this was warming his heart to the past. "A was a bandit, y'might say. A no good mercenary. Murderin' and Lootin' and worse, least till my partner split and stabbed me in the back. Got hung by the neck till I was dead as soon as the sherrif brought me in..." he laughed, gravel and dust. 

 

"Except some Native American Witch brought me back. Made me pay for my crimes against Indian and European both. Can't complain. Better en being dead..."

 

He paused, considering the question. 

 

"Truth is, I ain't really stopped to think why I'm back now..." he said, annoyed at his ignorance, tugging the noose that still wrapped round his leathery neck. 

 

He was irritated now. 

 

"Damned if I care..." he said, angrily, pushing his horse on harder, almost cruel in his insistance on the animal. 

 

 

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That did bring up a good point Hakim had sort of ignored until now. Just why was Creek back now? He had some suspicions, almost all of them involving somebody summoning the vengeful spirit. Revenge for the murder of a loved one? If so, why did the person responsible chose to go for the sledgehammer approach?

 

Something else entirely? A protest against the military? It would fit with what had happened so far. It was something to keep in the back of his mind, but he’d still not revealed one important thing. Perhaps his origin would be useless, but who knew.

 

“Time’s one thing, the place another. If you appeared here all the way on the coast that means something, because correct me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t sound like you lived in these parts. “

 

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"I lived all over, son. Shootin, lootin, and worse" he said. "An outlaw can't stay still for long. As for my boyhood, well that was sour. Ah..Ah Ain't going to be talkin' about that" he scowled. "And i'll shoot you dead if you ask" he added. "Don't think just cos' we jibber-jabberin' we are friends. Ah ain't got no friends, and freinds ah did have ended up dead one way or another"

 

"Soon as you try to stop me, I'll shoot ya. I don't mind the talkin', least not for a little bit, but don't think I ain't a killer. Ah am. I gotta kill murderers, that's ma curse, and not one I'm objectin' too. As for everybody else, well...nothing stoppin' me from shootin' em dead neither" he explained grimly. 

 

"As for why I came here. I guess its some Red Injun' Shaman or witch-doctor or somethin', same as them that gave me this curse" he muttered. 

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