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In the ga, Caleb had solved the mystery, tracked the killer, found his hideout, and was ambushed by the maniac, only to hand him over to Sheriff Malloy after knocking him out and receive a re twenty dollars for the ordeal, which included saving Sheriff Malloy's life. He'd been furious then. In a world of outlaws and scum, Edmund had felt like sothing… worse. Sothing inhuman.
Now, it was no longer a ga, it was reality.
Caleb wiped his mouth with a napkin and pushed the plate away, his appetite extinguished by the thought of the horror awaiting him. Would it be the sa? Would the sight of Edmund's victims in the basent make him sick?
He'd killed before. Yes. But always with reason, always with justice on his side, or survival. Edmund didn't kill out of necessity. He enjoyed it. The worst kind of evil, deliberate, practiced, precise, and for his own twisted satisfaction.
The patrons behind him continued whispering, oblivious to Caleb's racing thoughts. He swallowed the last of his beer in one long swig, grabbed his hat, and stood up.
He had made up his mind on what to do.
He was going to Lucky's Cabin. Not for the bounty, not for any coin. He wanted to end this evil now, before another body turned up in a ditch. He didn't need to solve the puzzle of Edmund's map fragnts that were placed with his victims, not when he rembered the combination to the basent door.
6 - 34 - 32.
He left the saloon and crossed the street in long strides, the weight of his upgraded arsenal comforting on his back and hips. Morgan, his loyal horse, neighed softly as Caleb approached the hitching post.
"Easy, girl," Caleb muttered, untying the reins and stroking the horse's neck. "We've got sothin' foul to deal with, hope you're ready like I am."
As he climbed into the saddle, a thought stuck with him like a thorn that is, Mr. Edmund Lowly Jr. ambushed Arthur in the ga. That ans he'll try the sa here for whoever manages to love his puzzle, which was his way of bringing more victims to him.
He'd have to be ready for that.
The ride out took around fifteen minutes from Valentine's. The winding trail toward the rundown cabin dipped through wooded groves and continued to head deeper as sunlight dappled through the pines. The air slled of damp earth and pine resin, deceptively peaceful, while the trees were tall and quiet like sentinels guarding an ancient evil.
Caleb dismounted just beyond a bend, tying Morgan to a low hanging branch. He checked his weapons, ensuring all were loaded, both Schofields holstered, pump action on his back, Lancaster slung tight, and Springfield ready on the side.
His newly installed iron sights and scopes were pristine. He took the lantern he had from Morgan, drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
The run down cabin appeared just ahead, weathered wood, only left with 2 sides of walls, there's a stone chimney or what's left of it, clusters of wood planks scattered across the floor of the cabin, and the two big basent doors made of sturdy wood right in front of him.
It looked innocent and like any other rundown cabin that could be found anywhere. But he knew better. He approached the basent door, boots soft on damp ground. A bit of fishy stench hit Caleb long before he reached the basent door.
Caleb knelt before it, fingers brushing away the dust and gri, revealing the old combination dial and inputting the combination lock.
6. 34. 32.
The lock clicked open.
He exhaled sharply and slowly lifted the heavy basent door, opening it wide. A cold gust of damp air rose from below, bringing with it the faint fishy scent of rot and chemicals. He drew one of his Schofield revolvers and held his lantern in his other hand, keeping it ready as he descended the narrow wooden steps into darkness.
The mont his boots hit the basent floor, he was struck by the fishy stench, and when he turned right, just like in the ga, he saw several skulls on the upper and middle of a steel shelf.
Shaking his head at seeing these skulls, he saw the lump of at to the ground left of the shelf, and he wanted to throw up but held it, walked, and turned left.
There he saw a wooden table with candles on it to light up the room, a pack of premium cigarettes, a piece of white paper that was a letter, a Kentucky bourbon, and there's a knife as well.
Above the table was a wooden fra filled with tools such as a saw, axe, scissors, knife, and many other tools that were used by Mr. Edmund on his victims.
And above the tools fra, there was a severed hand and a piece of human flesh being nailed onto a map of New Hanover. Seeing the hand, Caleb threw up a bit to the ground before managing to get hold of himself.
As he approached the table, to his left, he saw a small wood crate with a steel pot on top of it, a bucket filled with at left of the crate, and a bedroll to the right of the crate with a small candle beside it, not providing enough light for the room.
Caleb ignored the bedroll and the quiet candlelight flickering beside it. The rest of the room held no comfort, no warmth, only the grotesque, silent remnants of death. He knew what lay ahead, rembered it from the ga, but mory alone couldn't dull the dread rising in his chest like bile.
He stepped forward.
The narrow space behind the wooden divider felt like entering another world, a crueler one. Even in the dim glow of his lantern, Caleb could make out the two bodies hanging from at hooks bolted into the overhead beam.
One was missing its lower half entirely, nothing beneath the ragged tear of a torso. The other… the other was worse. Headless. Its chest and stomach sliced open, entrails dangling like wet ropes of at, swaying slightly as if stirred by a draft.
A wet slap echoed in the small chamber as sothing slipped from the body to the ground.
Caleb stumbled back a step, nearly slipping on the damp floor. His eyes widened in horror. A dozen heads, skulls, and rotting visages, so with faces twisted in eternal pain, were scattered across a butcher's table, a chair, and a rack lined like trophies.
He couldn't tell how many were n or won. So skulls had hair, others were clean white bone. But all of them stared in the sa accusing silence.
His breath hitched. The lantern shook in his hand.
Then ca the heave.
Caleb dropped to one knee and vomited, hard, everything he had in him splattering the cold floor with sick. He gasped for air between retches, his entire body quivering not from fear, but from the sheer wrongness of this place.
And then a loud ping.
His system interface flashed softly in his mind.
[Skill Gained: ntal Fortitude (Lvl MAX)]
Description: You've faced one of the most grueso scenes that this ti could offer, and experienced ntal trauma and sickness. Gain resistance against fear, horror, and ntal manipulation. Improves focus in critical monts.
He blinked. The ssage faded. His stomach was still twisted in knots, but he could breathe again.
"A skill… from this?" he muttered, voice hoarse. He leaned against the wall, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "If there are other skills that maybe I could gain from such a scene as this, god please help ."
He stood slowly, heart still pounding in his ears. The faint candlelight barely illuminated the room's full horror, but Caleb didn't need to see more. He'd seen enough.
He stood slowly, heart still pounding in his ears. The faint candlelight barely illuminated the room's full horror, but Caleb didn't need to see more. He'd seen enough.
Then, without warning, a hand gripped his left shoulder.
Strong fingers dug in. Not like a warning, but like a hold ant to twist him around violently.
Caleb's eyes widened.
He knew that grip. He knew what was coming. Arthur had been ambushed like this in the ga. And now it was happening to him.
Edmund Lowry Jr. was trying to knock him out. But Caleb didn't let himself be spun. He planted his feet.
As Edmund tried to yank him, Caleb ducked the expected blow, a big right swing with the butt of a knife. The weapon whistled past his head.
Caught off guard, Edmund staggered forward. That was all Caleb needed.
With a growl, Caleb spun on his heel and drove a punch into Edmund's gut. The air left the killer's lungs in a rush.
Then ca the uppercut, a brutal, rising strike that snapped Edmund's head back. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the blood slicked floor with a heavy thud, unconscious.
Breathing hard, Caleb stared down at the man who'd left behind so much horror. He'd done it. He caught him. Alive.
"Not today, you sick bastard…" Caleb whispered, still panting.
Caleb wasted no ti. He rummaged around the basent and quickly found several coils of rope, no doubt used on victims. He used them now for justice.
He bound Edmund's wrists behind his back, then tied another rope around his biceps and elbows. His ankles were bound next, and finally, Caleb looped a thicker rope around his torso and cinched it tightly. The man was going nowhere.
Once secure, Caleb leaned back on his heels and finally let himself breathe. He had done it. He stopped him.
Still, his eyes drifted back to the hanging bodies. His jaw tightened.
He couldn't save them. But maybe he could speak for them now.
With Edmund subdued, Caleb began searching for valuables or evidence that might offer more insight into this nightmare. He avoided the bourbon on the table, he didn't trust it. It could be drugged, like whatever Edmund used on his previous victims. He also ignored the cigarettes.
He did, however, find money, about 100 dollars in bills and coins, hidden behind the shelf with the skulls. Caleb wasn't sure if it was Edmund's earnings or remnants of what he stole from his victims. Either way, he took it. It was either going to rot here or help fund his survival.
Just when he thought he was done, his eyes caught sothing unusual.
Below the wooden table, the one with the candle and letter, was a lockbox.
One he didn't rember from the ga.
Curious, cautious, and a little nervous, Caleb knelt down and pried it out. It was heavy, iron bound, with a faded design etched into its lid. He wedged his knife between the lock and gave it a few sharp twists.
Clack.
It opened.
Inside lay a revolver. Not just any revolver, this one was bigger, heavier and longer than his Schofields. The silver color down from its barrel, but its beauty was marred by what looks like permanent blood stains, smudged into the grooves and dried like dark varnish. It looked like sothing used often. Too often.
He held it up, testing its weight. It felt good in his hand. He didn't know what kind of evil had been committed with it but he was sure of one thing, it was his now.
"I'll cleanse you with purpose," he murmured, sliding it into a holster. "One bastard down. More to go."
He walked back to the bound figure of Edmund Lowly Jr., slung the unconscious man over his shoulder with a grunt, and made his way out of the basent.
The mont he lifted the doors open to daylight again, fresh air hit his face. Sweet and cold.
The stench of rot seed to cling to his clothes, but he didn't care. He'd faced it, and he'd won.
He tied Edmund to the back of Morgan, securing him over the saddle like a heavy sack of grain.
"Let's ride," Caleb whispered.
Morgan whinnied, as if sensing the weight of the man tied to her back was sothing she didn't approve of. Caleb climbed into the saddle and set off down the trail. Back through the quiet trees. Back to civilization. Back to Valentine. The fifteen minute ride felt longer this ti. Every bend in the path brought with it a wave of relief, and a question. Would Sheriff Malloy believe him? Would this be enough?
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Na: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life mory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 2)
- Poker (Lvl 2)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 1)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv1)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- ntal Fortitude (Lvl MAX) - New
Money: 773 dollars and 43 cents
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets
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