StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Windigo California

prolog:

The Marshal had been pursuing the Sheldon boys for several days now, getting deeper and deeper into the wields of the California/Oregon mountains. The Sheldon's had killed a bunch of Chinese miners near Sacramento. Seeing smoke the The Marshal came upon a trapper camp, There were some giant men, They had to be Swedes or something, a brief exchange between one of the Giants and a "Camp Girl" in their foreign toung. The Marshal removed his reward poster, showing the photo's of the Sheldons taken at a fancy house in San Francisco.

"Da, these men went across the river into the mountains, but you'll never find them, they're already dead." the blonde man mountain told him.
"My orders are to bring 'em back dead or alive, Mister!"-The marshal growled.
"We beg you, Across the River a Wendigo dwells, they are already doomed, if you go there, it will either take you and make you a wendigo, or it will consume you."

The Marshal shook his head riding off, he had no time for foreign Trappers, fearing Indian ghost stories. however the coyote and wolf howls reminded him to ready his Winchester, While Ghosts didn't exist The Sheldon boys weren't the only predators in the forest. Seeing the Marshal leave the woman struck the tall man at the back of the head.
<We finally get what's left of the pack down from Russia, and you let that lawman go off to face those demons! The people in this country will begin hunting us like the Cossacks and the Czars did, soon they will come with SILVER in their guns Peter!>
<Please, the hunting is good, here, and they pay us well for the rabbits and foxes we catch to eat, as long as we don't hunt men they will leave us alone, trust me.>


As the Marshal approached the lone bridge across the river, he saw the poles the ropes were attached to were festoon ed with bones, all kinds of bones, leading the nervous horse across he felt a chill wind pass over him. The path of the outlaws was fairly clear at this point, a party of horses heavy with the supplies and their ill gotten gold, had defiantly crossed this bridge and went into the forest a day or so ago. Still he felt like someone was watching him, glancing about he heard not a sound the tell tails of humans travel, it was quiet, too quiet. Out of the corner of his eye the Marshal saw a shadow, turning he saw nothing, perhaps it was the woods playing tricks on his eyes. A few hours later he came upon the Sheldon boy's abandoned camp, their brass had fallen a plenty here, but there were no bodies, just broken branches, and the scent of fear and death. Their cold ashes long burned down, still there was plenty kit, just no Sheldons, they had even left behind a sack of food supplies.

That night The Marshal made camp in a nice defense able position. what ever had gotten to the Sheldons wouldn't surprise him, nor would the Sheldon's either, chewing on some trail jerky and some bread, he heard a rustle in the bushes. He waited concentrating his senses looking for a target. There he saw a dark shape, had to be the shadow of the bushwhacker lit by the moonlight, tracing back to where the target should be concealed he fired a first shot. And was answered by a howling gale of wind. The shadow go larger and seemed to be coming for him, The Marshal fired shot after shot from his rifle, the bullets seemed only to vanish in the mist, just then Mal Sheldon sprang, wildness in his eyes a throwing a lantern at the shadow, it shattered causing the bush to rupture into flame.
"Lawman, take me! just don't let it git me like it done my brothers!" -The teenaged bandit cried.
"Mal you know I could shoot you right here and now, but I'd rather see you hang."
"Marshal, don't waste your bullets on it, either shoot us both here, or ride, It's only guns can't hurt it, only fire can!"
"boy your nonsense is st-" the marshal stopped as the shadow reached out and bent the barrel of his rifle.
Dropping the weapon the marshal saw it looming above him, a tall gaunt former parody of the Eldest Sheldon brother, it had holes from several bullets, in him. Mal Sheldon grabbed a branch from the Marshal's fire and stabbed the creature with it, causing it to howl in pain, before mal dropped it burned by the flame he wielded . Together the Marshal and the outlaw rode hard, the shadow chasing them, and the icy wind following them, Mal heard the sudden crack of broken bone, and the marshal's cry in the dark, but closed his eyes until he got to the bridge.

The authorities never found the Marshal, They found his rifle bent backwards, the head of his horse, but no sign of the Marshal was ever found. Some Trappers turned over Mal Sheldon to the authorities, frostbitten and frightened, he claimed not to know what had happened to the marshal, and while confessing to the crimes he and his brothers committed he went to his grave. In time the bridge across the river became known as the lost Marshal, and the trapper camp grew into a small gold and then later logging town, the town forever known by the name of the demon that was supposed to inhabit the forest nearby.

Welcome To Wendigo California

Nice start! I liked it.

I like the setup so far. It's been a while since I've read a good horror story so expect me to stick around.

preperations

Chris was driving back to home, in the backpack strapped to his hog, there amid the changes of dirty clothes, was an old Colt Army Single Action Revolver, the gun once belonged to Mal Sheldon, the bandit had been truely repentant about the killing's his brothers had committed, before he had been taken away, the young outlaw, had studied a crash study of black magic, the gun now was a thing of power, the catch was that it could now only fire bullets made from "Blood money", since of course now days death was bought and sold with drugs, greenbacks, and contracts, it was getting harder to find truely evil gold or silver. Still he still had five rounds left, guarunteed to kill anything magical and otherwise.

the homecomming he intended would definatly shake things up, the muse and bountyhunter of the darker world, had bought the weapon, with currancy he didn't want to consider, Still the magic might be the only thing he could think of that could pin and trap a fellow daemon that had haunted his whole life.


The Saint Sisters had been preparing for their mission that would take into the California wilds. Julie walked in carrying Christina's military duffle bag, the olive bag dropped into the back of the van, causing the wheel wells to noticably dip a few inches. Christina's magic bag, could hold a much larger amount of equipment then would appear by it's outside demensions, but did little to change the full mass and weight of the bag. The weapons went from mideval relics, to modern firearms. The Savants looked like normal high school graduate kids, they were in fact monster hunters working for the Knights Templar. The rumors held that the whole town was infested with minions of the devil.



Eric tossed and turned he was trapped in the dream again, the talons on his fingers tearing the matress into shreds, in the dream there he was, slick from hard rowing, onointed with smoke , wolf's blood, and the runes of power tattooed around his body, gifts of Odin, the heft of his axe was a natural part of him, just like the cowhide shield, or the wolf skin that was the only clothing he wore. Biting into his shield, his mouth filled with blood, the pain fed the fury, which fed the anger, which fed the sexual need, which triggered the changes, which fed him more pain. soon the skin fused with his body, half wolf half man.

he ran at the church keep's walls, the leap nearly carried him to the top, but his claws found purchase gouging the stone as he climbed, the cries of his fellow Norsemen below caught the defenders off gaurd, as they began readying for the approching ram and rushing archers up to the walls they hadn't noticed the lycanthrope. The first mail clad soldier went flying off the wall, as his claws shreded the links of metal like the flesh and bone below. close in the archers were not able to make effective use of their weapons, arrows and dagger's caused pain, but didn't hurt him.
behind him a river of blood flowed as he entered the inner sanctum, he could smell the priest corpse's undead secret, also hidden away he could smell the deeper treasure, and the vampire's larder, the scent of a women who had not yet been taken as a mate. The old ghoul's slaves came hard, he struck back washed again in pain, and fire, and more pain as the silver clad weapons struck him. He was weakening, the creature had fled, but he could still smell the oder of fear, behind a wall, his terrible blow shattered the false wall, revealing the two young women cowering behind. One of the novice nuns leaped at him to protect the other, the adrenal impulse of her fear giving her strength, The girl struck him with a silver candle stick, the blow shattering his jaws and temporarilly blinding him. His response was brutal and quick, breaking her arm, and knocking her almost dead with a blow to the belly. The scared one tried to push herself further back into the cell as he steped over the other's uncioncious body. His ears that weren't ringing could hear the heart beats of each girl, the half of his nose that wasn't ruined could distinguish the scents, very, very close they had to be sisters, the older protecting the younger. The wolf's claws shredding the girl's habit revealing her breasts and sex to him.

Eric awoke again, the dream interupted by the nocturnal emmissions. Purhaps the most embarrising down side of being a werewolf was that the "curse" hit right at adolescence, causing extemely vivid sexual dreams, that always cut out a bit too early, being a young wolf his body was super charged, unfortunatly, it lacked any control. The combination of racial memory, and hyper charged sexuality was bad enough, hell most guys just had to hide semen, not the blood of animals, property damage and waking up naked in strange places.

YB? you really need an editor to go over those for punctuation and things before you post them.. That last one was a bit hard to follow.

I know....

On the other hand, the 'wet dream' was very well done. Cleaned up, it would be een better

Good stuff. This is really different than the standard fare her and I hope to see more.