A selection of pieces written for The Book of Weapons for Hunt: Showdown 1896. As of 2024, the Book of Weapons can no longer be found in-game. Names of weapons of which each entry has been attached has been changed.
Journal of Lulu Bassett
Brown leather with gold filigree 5” x 7”
Date Unknown
I’m no stranger to disappointing men, but lately they’ve been showing up in droves. The saloon’s been full of the truly vulgar type, and few of them like to pay. I’ve had to pull out my gun on a few bastards to get whatever’s left in their wallet. This job was never easy, but I liked it well enough. With the new Johns in town, I’m not sure it's worth it anymore.
But there are always treasures among the trash. For every man I’ve had to deal with, I’ve met beautiful and powerful women. One has caught my eye. Never stepped foot into the Saloon, just stands outside and watches. I tried speaking to her once but all she did was stare at me like a fox about to eat a rabbit. God, I’d let her. From then on whenever she came, I’d catch her watching me.
--
Thomas Glover came into the saloon, an okay man. He got drunk enough for two and was causing a ruckus in the bar, enough to make Jacobi cut him off and kick him out. I watched him stumble into an alley and then I saw that woman follow him. Got me curious and a bit jealous, so I decided to follow too.
When I got there, I saw Thomas taking a gun to the woman’s face. A Scottie with dusters made to hurt. Before he could hit her again, I got behind him and started talking soft to calm him down. It didn’t work and as he pulled back to punch the woman with the Scottie, his elbow met my face. Seemed like he was about to mumble out an apology when quick as a flash she got in close and took the gun from him.
Time began to move real slow right as she landed the hit. As soon as those metal knuckles hit Thomas’ nose it popped right open. Right after the blood came the flesh and right after the flesh came the bone.
Thomas was writhing on the ground and the woman knelt by him. She looked up at me with expectation and offered me the Scottie with the dusters. I knelt on the other side of Thomas and started beating him. When he tried to put his hands up to protect himself, she got behind him and held his arms down. We stared at each other as Thomas’ poor face began to crunch and squish under my fist. I couldn’t hear it over my pounding heart.
Journal of Lulu Bassett
Lightly worn, brown leather with gold filigree 5” x 7”
Date Unknown
I could write a damn sonnet about all the things I want to do with this woman. Anyone who dies to the bullets from her gun are lucky that she’s the last thing they see. Even watching her take a swig from a flask by the fire is enough to make my heart race and by hell’s fire she knows it. She catches me staring, I can’t help it, and the left side of her mouth moves up ever so slightly. If she’d
let me, I would kiss that smirk right off her beautiful face.
I joke with her that we’re married, we took the vow to join the Hunt together after all, and that she’ll never be rid of me. I think she gets the idea of what I’m saying, and she just holds my chin in her fingers and looks at me for a while. It drives me mad. When the hell is she just gonna kiss me? When can I take her to the bed and do more than sleep? I want to see that stoic silent face scream for me. I wish I knew enough of her language to tell her how she makes me feel, I wish I could tell her how much I need her.
--
Sofia saved me again today. My angel and moon and stars. She was away from me for a moment, that’s all it took, when that bastard Billy and his crew caught sight of me. Thought that they could get a taste right in the middle of the damn Hunt. I thought I could talk my way out of it like usual, but Billy is a special breed. Before I knew it, one of his friends had taken the stock of his Scottfield to the back of my head and my arms were pinned to the ground. I could barely make out anything in the black except for Billy getting on top of me. He had the butt of that gun to my neck, but then like an angel of death, she was right there behind him. Didn’t even see her slice his greasy throat as I came to my senses and grabbed the Scottfield. The one who was holding my hands ran and I buried the muzzle of their gun deep down the throat of the last one alive. His eyes begged for mercy, but I granted him none.
That night by the campfire, I opened my arms to ask Sofia to let me hold her. I was shaken, out of anger, out of what could have been. She walked over to me and let me hold her. She was shaking too, for what reason I don’t know why, but when she put her ear to my chest the shaking stopped. Maybe she needs me too.
Records, Pelican Island Prison
Handwritten notes
Author: Handwriting match for Solomon Jabez
Date: December 8, 1893
The best way to induce Ego-Dissolution, to make a puppet out of a man, is through drugs and pain. The drugs leave the participant in a state that makes them more vulnerable to coercion and the pain will make them do anything for it all to stop. To best make the participant open to coercion, it is recommended to use a Laudanum tincture that is double or triple the dose of opium normally used to treat pain. This causes the patient to not only see hallucinations but amplifies anxiety which can cause the very act of torture to have a deep psychological effect. Inmate No. 57 “Jenkins” was given 2 doses of laudanum and has been whispering about undead men that attacked his family. It seems he’s still using the same alibi for his murderous rampage. I will ask some of my men to give him another dose and remove his fingernails in an hour. Let’s see what he says then.
Date: March 23, 1894
We have lost four participants to our experiments with Ego-Dissolution with very little results. I have tried everything; beatings, whippings, half-drownings, and even flaying the lower extremities. But they all stay themselves even as they take their last breath. Inmate No 33 “Simeon” almost got out of the basement and even started yelling to warn the others about what was happening down here. Smith ended up grabbing the first gun he could find, a fine Winfield Slate, and shot at No. 33’s kneecap. The blow made the leg fall right off and the shock made No. 33 go comatose then die. A pity, No. 33 was an interesting challenge to break.
Date: August 4, 1894
I’ve been struggling to find a proper candidate to undergo experiments. The rest of the prison population is fully aware of what happens here in the basement, and that has caused a sort of Ego-Dissolution in them all. They are all perfectly submissive, none of them willing to attract attention to participate. However, the other day I heard something strange coming from the cells. The newest guard Curtis made No. 47 “Ernst” laugh, something I hadn’t heard in these walls for weeks. There’s still something left to take in No. 47, that should be enough to work with.
Records, Pelican Island Prison
Handwritten notes
Author: Handwriting match for Solomon Jabez
Date: August 20, 1894
Findings on inmate No. 47 “Ernst”:
He is one of the younger inmates at the prison, sentenced to seven years for theft. The court case documents state that he was embezzling from his former employer and had plans to run off with his boss’ son when the time was right. For some reason, he chose to take on the complete burden of the trial and the sentence.
Last night I walked through on observation. Most of the prisoners are broken, and many cowered away as they heard me approach. But not No. 47, it seems that he still has enough spirit left in him to fight back, he’s pure defiance. Good, I was beginning to grow bored. He’ll be sent to the basement tomorrow.
Date: August 21, 1894
Time is running low to meet Huff’s request, so the training had to begin quickly. Some of the guards had expressed interest in making someone with attachments. Appendages. Enhancements? A man with a knife or a gun constantly at the ready for fighting. I proposed No. 47 to be part of these experiments.
Smith requested permission to sever one of the arms himself and I obliged. After giving No. 47 three doses of Laudanum, two other guards tried to strap No. 47’s arm to the wall. No. 47 fought and fought, lashing and kicking. Smith couldn’t get close with the saw. Then, he lost his temper. Threatened him with his new toy, a shotgun with some odd loading contraption. It did leave me impressed, how quickly it reloaded while Smith shot off the arm. Smith had talked our ears off about it. Not long after the third shot No. 47 passed out from shock, and the arm is now gone. He will be taken to the medical ward for treatment and have a mechanism attached so that we can replace the appendage.
He will get rest in his cell tonight; the training can begin in earnest tomorrow.