Trains.

It was always trains.

The rhythmic, almost soothing 'rhudd-rhudd-rhudd' of the locomotive resounded throughout its relatively few cabins, accompanied by the stifled, staccatoed tones of hushed voices, incessant dining-cabin babble turning to a watery, thrumming murmur. The pitch of night surrounded the train, wrapping it in its leathery, opaque folds. The moon hung like a great hole in the sky, a violent, stinging white light at the end of the tunnel. Midnight rains toned in tinny symphony, smearing moonlight paint across the windows. The train car itself left much to be desired, as did its occupants; a portly fellow sat squarely in Bryn's view, which, given the lack of one eye, was twice the irritant it should be. She'd spent most of the day observing the occupants and the bottom of a cocktail glass. Her breath reeked of sugary cola and that ineffable rummy undertone, tongue adhering to the back of her throat. The alcohol had done something to soothe her general discontent, leaving her a touch giggly and a few shades of randy.

A drunken breath oozed out of Bryn's mouth, burning the tip of her tongue with the last dregs of booze. Her leg had been irritating her more than usual, lately, which meant everything irritated her more than usual. Snips and quips fell like the outdoor raindrops in her mind, and the length of the train ride did not help keep the acid between her teeth. Her weapons were locked up with her luggage; they didn't even allow her to keep her prosthesis, meaning she had to switch to her peg. This caused her some irritation, given that the peg cared little for her comfort; the only thing separating her stump from the wooden stick was a thin layer of padding, which still gave with every footfall, causing the pegleg to poke her directly beneath her kneecap. Already having run up a tab she never intended to pay back, Bryn kept to the seat assigned to her, wishing she'd shelled out the extra money for a personal room. She spent the next hour nose-deep in a trashy romance novel, struggling with the pretentious, ill-suited vocabulary of the struggling author.

"Fuckin'--'She gesticulated wildly, his throbbing mass 'twixt her nethers!?' What is this horseshit?" Punctuating her irritated statement, Bryn threw the novel across the cabin, landing squarely in one of the trashcans that littered the aisle. The resounding 'whudd' startled the portly male across from her to wakedness, doing nothing for Bryn's mood.

"Wh...What's wrong, there, Br--" He began, words slurred by grogginess.

"Shut the fuck up, Jimothy."

It was sunrise by the time the train pulled into 'station.' Bryn's stop was more precaution than installment, as stopping in the town itself would be a deathwish. With a yawn, she and a few other bounty hunters like her stepped out of their respective doorways, all of their luggage tossed surreptitiously out the back before the train departed once more. Staggering over to her duffel bag, Bryn pulled out her very favorite prosthesis, Crowsfoot. Its immaculate, well-polished surface hooked nicely beneath her stump, the padding made for suction so that it wouldn't come off unless she wanted it to.

Helter and Skelter sat in their holsters, waiting to be used, with Bryn's favorite among all her belongings: Jersey, the glowing skull. Strange that they allowed her to keep his wing, but not the skull itself, but Bryn never mused about the small consolations.

When all was said and done, she stepped out into the badlands, which reeked of cinder and flesh. The ravaged town lay in the near distance, only a couple of miles away. Bile scratched at her throat, she was a little thirsty, and had only eaten a piece of toast and an egg...

...But at this moment, Bryn couldn't be more excited. Trudging past the tiny puddles, not minding the muddy trail, she set out, ready for whatever might come.

The dust was settling in a particular desolate portion of the wasteland, far on the outskirts of known society. Bodies laid everywhere scattered about most killed from gun shots. Well aimed holes in them, some of the bodies were worse off. Torn apart as if were hit by a cannon ball. There were several broken wagons as well one completely destroyed as parts of it littered the field. In all of this a dark figure walked. Covered head to toe in black, bandanna hiding his face as this large brimmed hat blocked the moon light from entering his face. Glowing yellow eyes was all that could be seen. Not far behind that was a horse walking, equally dark as those glowing red eyes looked around the field of the battle that preceded.

There was a groaning sound from one of the bodies a survivor leaning against a wagon coughing up blood. "And he rode in on a thick fog. Glowing eyes piercing through that veil of darkness." he coughed up more blood as he hand was covering a bullet wound in his stomach "I told them it was just a myth..you were just some hunter using the stories to hunt us. Some cheap spell to stir up a fog." He looked up at the drifter "So what now...you leave me here to die" he looked into those glowing eyes as they soon died down. The drifter looked at him "no man deserves to die this way, no matter his sins" Raising his arm he pointed that .45 at him pulling the trigger finishing off the man putting a bullet in his head.

This was something the drifter could never understand. In this world ravaged by demons, where everyday life was a struggle for survival, there were still humans that prayed on other humans. It all seemed so...pointless. These men had been attacking others, raiding caravans all across the wasteland. More lives lost that could of helped defend humanity. Soon though he could feel a pull. Something inside of him stirring, the demon side of him could sense the bloodlust, the massacre. It was a horde, a very large horde. He had never felt something like it before, so many demons amassing. ShadowMane had walked up behind him. Grabbing his reigns he hopped up onto the saddle as he looked in the direction. There was another feeling inside of him urging him to go towards it. "I know father" He said as he whipped the reigns and soon Shadow mane was off running in the direction of that horde.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks had past since that feeling he had that night. As the sun rose he brought ShadowMane to a walk, soon over the horizon he could see the outpost, or former outpost. The place was a ghost town, it wouldn't be long before the hunters form the capital came to this place. There crude methods destroying any evidence, any trace of what happened here. Bringing his horse to a gallop he rode to the edge of the out post before getting off. "Wander, and stay hidden" he said as ShadowMane ran off into the waste land and Drifter walked into the outpost. Looking around at the rubble, the senseless loss of life. Bodies were stripped and devoured, Reaching down he placed his hands on the ground. The area was still ripe with demonic energy, like a lingering stink. He could feel the bloodlust, the violence. "But was there a Lord involved is the question" he stood back up wandering through the town.

Soon he lept off the ground, landing on a roof top he looked at the casing on the ground. leaning down he rubbed his hand on the roof. Powerful magic, a skill full hunter was hear. Fighting for people to escape, he looked over s he could see the blood stain of another. People fought for there lives here. Fought so others could survive. Standing up he closed his eyes sniffing the air. The stink of demon, it repulsed him, at the same time...It was family. "How were we born of this" He knew his father felt no real emotions towards humans, but neither did he care for senseless violence. Soon though he looked over as a train was pulling into the near by station. He would stay out of site for now, watching the hunters.

"You could've been a bit more careful!" Reid exclaimed. They had just gotten off the train, and the train workers had the bright idea to just throw all of the luggage off the train. "Dumbasses! I've got delicate tools in there! Bombs too! We all could've been ripped to shreds! Teeny tiny little pieces of flesh and bone!" A couple bounty hunters stepped away hesitantly when they heard that.

"Well nothing exploded, so it's all good," Reid sighed, "But seriously...not cool, man." Nonetheless, Reid took their things from a bag, and after checking to see if any of it was broken (none of it was, fortunately), began to equip and properly store their weapons and tools. Reid always carried all of their equipment on their person; there was a great many amount of pockets all over their clothes, which could easily store much of their gear. Grenades, ammo, spare parts, the works. Their weapons of course had holsters, so they could be held easily as well. Even their signature tool, the Grappling Hook Gun (GHG), was always carried from it's place on Reid's right arm. Everything had its place, and was stored conveniently.

However, taking off and on all that gear was another story. It was the complete opposite of convenience, it was just too much stuff and it took a long time. Reid had fought (not physically of course) tooth and nail to be able to keep their gear during the train ride, but the staff just wouldn't relent. So now, Reid was having to go through the hassle of putting all of their gear back on. Securing the GHG was time consuming, and wrapping the ammo chain around themself always took awhile. By the time they'd finished, many of the other bounty hunters had already began to move on and head to the town.

"Damn, I'm already falling behind," Reid groaned, "There's no way I'm gonna be missing out on this action though!" After one last quick gear check, they then finally set off to leave as well.

Eli 'The Regulator' Schlusser

There was little movement on the desert plain, save perhaps for the swirls of sand that danced lightly in the moonlight. That was until a man, no taller than six foot tall, began running across the expanse. He wore only torn jeans and a pair of boots, with the rest of his body having little more than a layer of dirt to protect him from the elements. This man was terrified, and his scrawny legs were carrying him as fast as they could across the dry and inhospitable earth. Each foot bounced off the sand in succession until, to his horror, his right foot suddenly plunged lower and he tumbled to the ground. “Shit!” he hissed as he tried to regain his feet, but the earth bellow him suddenly sunk again; this time to his waist. He tried to climb out but the earth around him slowly sunk lower and lower until nothing but his head stuck out. “No! No! No!” he cried as it became harder and harder for him to move him limbs. Then, when he could do nothing else, he simply began to weep. For him it seemed like an age passed while the sound of gentle footsteps from behind grew ever louder and nearer, until a shadow finally loomed in front of him. Even now he could not see the figure that had slaughtered his friends.

“Please! I’m begging you, have mercy! I didn’t know who her family was; I would have never touched her if I did!” the man sobbed.

“She was fourteen.” Came a still, cold voice.

“I- I know alright. I get it. I’m the bad guy, and you’re the good guy. But you-” his plea was suddenly cut off by a short gruff snigger.

“No Harry, I’m not a good guy.” Came the voice again. ‘Harry’ felt his guts twist in fear as the man slowly walked round to his front. He recognised the man stood before him now, a man that some called ‘The Regulator’. He was tall and well dressed, with a black suit that may have sold well were it not covered in sand and droplets of blood. His face was stern with strong features, and his short beard added an element of ruggedness. Even if Harry had not heard of this man, it was clear that he was brutal and unforgiving.

Eli slowly crouched down and reached for Harry’s neck, causing him to shut his eyes in fear. Beads of sweat flowed down Harry’s brow and cheek like waterfall, and left dark drops in the sand. He thought he would feel the touch of a cool blade across his neck, but instead the stolen necklace was yanked off of him. “This belongs to the girl’s family.” Said Eli, who in truth only wanted it for proof that he had done the job.

“So… does this mean I get to live?” whimpered Harry, looking up at Eli who was now walking off.

“No.” and with that the earth swallowed Harry whole, leaving no trace that he had ever been there.

---

Eli stood by one of the train’s doors, the wall in which he leant on providing his only comfort. As much as he would have liked to have sat down and rested his feet, especially after the two day walk from his last job to the nearest station, he aired on the side of caution. From where he was he could not only get to the luggage (and thus the weapons) quicker than anyone else, but he could also make a run with little problem. Multiple times he felt himself nodding off where he stood, only to be awaken as he swayed and jolted himself awake. He couldn’t help it, something about the gentle muttering of voices and the pacing of the train made him feel relaxed despite his intuition telling him otherwise.

When the train finally reached its stop he was the first off and made his way quickly to the back, where the luggage was already being tipped over the side. Like most of the others there, he quickly retrieved his weapons and placed them in the appropriate holsters. Once done, he carelessly threw his empty luggage case into some nearby grass, knowing that he wouldn’t need it again until he was back here and ready to depart. Eli then turned and began to eye up the others, knowing that they’d either be his partners or his competition.

The town did not look like it had been deserted long. Of the numerous thoughts that found themselves slipping to and fro within Glyph's mind, that was the only one that seemed to have any persistence. She noted the direction of the wind, the sound of the dirt cracking and parting beneath Cipher's horseshoes, and the smell of the outlands that filled the air. That was how she knew that this hovel had not been left to the demons for too long - it had not yet begun to reek. The wood had not splintered and mouldered and rotted into the brackish tar that was so frequently found in sites that had once been able to sustain some life. She felt a twitch. Cipher? Her? The distinction became unclear on the long days. She didn't know where her legs ended and his body began, but the twitch was something they both recognised. They'd been still for too long.

With a wordless motion, Cipher begun a steady trot forwards towards the very edge of the clifftop.

She looked over the edge once. The leap was not too high. They could run across the air if she was ready. The trot became a gallop, and the gallop continued across the edge of the perch of rock they had found themselves upon until small shimmers of runic energy could be seen beneath the horse's feet, carrying them downwards as if the air was a simple incline in the face of the rock. It was a convenient form of magic to have mastered, Glyph knew, and she was thankful for it as she looked across to her east to see the train pulling into the station of a nearby town. Fresh meat from the Capital? Freelance hunters? Likely a mixture of both. They were known not to get on - the infighting would delay them. She knew that the town could be reached more quickly on horseback than by any other means, if one knew the path and the geography of these outlying lands.

It was perhaps not prudent to consider the inevitable surge of Bounty Hunters at all, in fact. If she hurried, she could investigate the soon-to-be ruin of the town before any of them arrived. Cipher sped up just a little, urging her on in thought and body, and she hunkered down close to his head. The bond of trust was evident, and the purpose with which they moved was undeniable. The world was a simpler place when the only purpose you had was to ride, to feel the winds brush past your skin and the breaths flow shallowly from your lungs to the air around you. The clarity of focus helped Glyph remember her purpose, her reason for continuing. This world had taken everything she had ever loved from her: Mateus, her family, her child. She recounted their names each night. Mateus, Darien, Hashmal. Mateus, Darien, Hashmal. She reminded herself of what she fought for, of what she felt she must do, and of how the world would not conquer her as it had conquered them.

The smarter we are, the more prone to melancholy we become. Glyph had often contemplated on what, precisely, was the downfall of most of her brothers and sisters in arms - and a deep, profound sadness seemed to linger the core of each and every person that walked this barren land. All that thrived in the wasteland was evil and corrupt, and for each hunter that lost their life in the barren wastes, the ash and the corruption grew. Perhaps that was why the demons had not been defeated. Perhaps it was simply not something that was supposed to happen, perhaps that same sadness that drove her forwards had also doomed her to this endlessly repeating nightmare. She paid that thought little mind, however, as she rode towards the ghost town. There was time for philosophy after she had reaped the spoils.

Rose stepped out of the 'Dragon's tooth' bar stumbling and giggling, her cheeks bright. She was dressed without her signature red coat and her weapons were at her room in the Inn. The man behind the counter inside the bar called out to her,
"Hey, be careful out there Red, you don't know what kinda creeps are out this timea night!"
Rose, drunkenly waved him off and kept stumbling into the darkness. Outside the Dragons Teeth it was dark and overcast, the light from the windows stretched and elongated the shadows, giving everything a menacing look. Rose walked past a narrow alley and stooped down to look at something inside. She drunkenly slurred out,
"Hey kitty, nice kitty. Come here you little fur ball. Come here."
Rose then stumbled into the alleyway. It was slightly wider that shoulder width and she used the wall for support. Once she got about halfway in she heard a 'click' and felt what she recognized as the barrel of a pistol, probably a six shooter, pressed to her back. Then she heard a raspy mans voice in her ear,
"Listen here. You're going to take off all your clothes, nice and slow, and if you make a sound, I'm going to put a bullet in your pretty little stomach. Got me?"
Rose stuttered out, petrified,
"Y-yes sir."
She stood still for a moment, and her apprehender quickly became impatient.
"What's the damn hold up? What are you waiting for doll-face?"
Rose let the tension leave her body and her voice dropped an octave.
"Why, sir. I was waiting for that."
The mand had just enough time to get out a confused,
"Wha-"
Before Rose spun to her left and brought her left elbow back, smashing the man's right hand, which had been holding his pistol, into the wall. She could feel the snaps and pops in his wrist that meant she had broken it. Rose then, still spinning, brought her right knee into the man's gut, which pressed him up against the wall and made him double over. She then brought her right foot back against the wall so she could push herself forward and deliver the strongest punch she could to his temple with Her righr fist.
She connected. But her punch was to string and her knuckles dragged across the bricks of the building behind the perpetrator. Rose shook her hand and looked at the blood already welling up from where the skin peeled back.
"Well, shit."
Rose reached into her poket and pulled out the poster calling for the bounty of one unknown 'Dollface Rapist'. She then rolled it back up, then bent down and searched the man. She found several bits of beef jerky that looked a bit past experation, a wallet full up with cash, and a little black diary. She flipped through the diary and saw that it was a detailed accounting of his entire 'career'. She then patted the wallet on his chest and asked quite cordially,
"You don't mind do you"
He, of course, didn't offer a reply and she proceeded to put it in her pocket.
"Didn't think so"
She then grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and dragged him out of the alley and to the nearest bounty claims office.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Rose stepped off the train and into the bright sun. She was wearing her red coat. The attendant had given her the equipment bag she had been required to use. She didn't mind because they let her keep her homing bracelet.
She kneeled in the cracked dirt and opened the long case. Inside was her razor sharp blade Rebelion, her gauntlet The Iron Fist and her two pistols Ivory and Ebony. She slid Rebelion into it's sword ring on her back, so her blade was bare. Then she holstered her pistols on either side of her waist, making sure that she could still easily slide them in and out of the device. Next she picked Iron Fist and slid it onto her left arm. It went all the way up to her forearm and glinted in the light. She strapped it to her arm, moved it back and forth to make sure it was secure, then stood, picking the case up in her right hand.
"Well, this should be fun."
Then she started off across the broken town, looking for the crystals everyone was paying for.

The Town

Those by train would find it screeching to a halt well outside the station. Despite the heavy armor, there was a good reason they didn't take it any closer than a few miles outside the town; the demons would swarm the train as it pulled in, knock it over, and slowly, but surely, penetrate the armor as they clawed towards those on board. The conductor woulld give his call for them to be let off and then back the train away from the small town.

The town itself would be found in utter chaos. Many of the buildings had caught fire, either from the demonic firespitters, or those trying to take a few with them, leaving nothing but ashes and the charred bones of those buildings that had manage to resist just long enough to create the haunting evening shadows.

The demons would not leave such a haven. There were always scraps that were missed. Many would move around the town, drawn by the crystal that had brought them there in the first place. The main horde, of course, was gone, but the tower, reminiscent of a broadcast tower, would, of course, have a number of demons clasping to its sturdy metal structure, cackling away, many gnawing on bones with small remnants of flesh. By virtue of the behavior, there was an almost ceremonial pile of bones at the base of the tower - at least the remains of forty people including the remains of the very young.

There was clearly one demon at the base of the tower that had established itself as the alpha. It was larger, clearly more intelligent than the others. It was a Juggernaut, or at least that was the general term. They were hardier than the common Ravagers, the smaller ones with sleek black claws. The Juggernaut was an impressive 12 feet in height and had taken on pieces of metal in a makeshift armor. Like most, it was capable of grasping and wielding items with surprising dexterity, having taken up a blood soaked piece of metal it had fashioned into a crude, yet effective blade with intentional serrations across its edge - making it more of a saw than anything.

At least thirty-five ravagers had taken position across the tops of the buildings around the tower, most basking in the evening sun, much like cats. Many more lurked further out, daring not to approach the Juggernaut's territory without his approval, which they had not gotten.

The skull fit neatly in Jordan's large hand. The demon it had once belonged to had perished in the fire that consumed the house he was standing in, leaving it a husk. Many houses had shared its fate and some held the remains of man, some of demon, some of both. It was such a waste this loss of life, such potential in the young ones all gone and the flesh of the old either burnt to oblivion or devoured by the demons. It was enough to awaken the rage inside his heart, gripping it tightly with its fiery claws. The hulking mans body showed no sign of his roiling emotions save for the clenching of his fist, the demons skull shattering under the pressure.

The demons had mostly congregated towards the tower for reasons beyond Jordan however he did suspect it had something to do with the crystal atop it, in truth he didn't much care. What did peak his interest was the fact that they were all in one place, meaning extermination would be tricky. He had already killed at least half a dozen demons between his stalking and simple traps, but at this rate it would take him a month to clear just the small ones. The big one was far more tricky, it would notice the shrinking population and make measures on finding the source. Jordan did not fear death but only fools rush towards it, these things needed planning if going on ones own.

At least, they did. Others were beginning to turn up, hunters more specifically. They were a diverse bunch meaning they were not united in anything but their interest in this gutted town. This would need to be put into consideration.

Nearly a week in the town, Jordan had become highly familiar with the town and could move unnoticed to all but the best tracker. With neither sound or sight he traveled from husk to house to husk again, staying far enough to keep his cover but close enough to watch the newcomers. A woman upon a horse rode in, a peculiar sight for him as animals were food first and transportation never. There was an air about her, much like everyone, that told Jordan enough to know that she was no enemy at the moment. Pain, sadness, determination, and a hundred other spices came together in her own unique "smell" that could be tracked for miles, it was much like a meditative incense with an undertone of fire. A stark contrast to the sickly sweet smell of rot emanating from the man on the roof.

They both would need to be watched.

As Glyph and Cipher looked upon the husk of the town, they began to see the state in which it was left for what it was: A massacre and a den of vile atrocity. It was not the most pleasant of thoughts, that was for certain, but it was one that Glyph has wrestled with many times over her years as a hunter and experience had both prepared her for and desensitised her towards the inevitable corpses of children that she would come across. Some of the new blood she’d spotted travelling towards the town would perhaps not be so experienced and wise. It had been a shock to her, the first time she’d seen a town ravaged by a horde, and she remembered the charred air and the scent of a metallic tang in the air to this day. It gave her no comfort to think that it had happened to another small town.

The first step was to stake out the town. She recognised a couple of key buildings by shape alone, and though she did not have a map, she could work out the most likely paths between them from her vantage point a good distance away from the town. She would likely have her scent picked up by the smaller ravagers prowling the outskirts of the town, but they were easy to kill. They moved predictably towards their prey unless they were older and wiser, and those that came with the hordes tended to be new blood. Fitting, she thought, that new blood from both sides met at this soon-to-be hellhole. It took a matter of twenty seconds of observation for a ravager to slink its way towards Glyph and Cipher, and though the woman atop the horse was intently gazing at the town for information, her right hand withdrew her crossbow and a single bolt of pure energy was released just as the demon began its leap, piercing it squarely through the head and killing it instantly. Cipher whinnied in response to the kill, and with her other hand Glyph gently stroked his mane. They knew there would be plenty more demons to kill soon enough.

The tower where the crystal was kept was of standard design. It was usually the first place that demons congregated at and was one of the few certainties within a small town like this one had been. Its location was slightly off-centre, and the buildings seemed to part at the correct angle to take advantage of this slight anomaly – it kept her view from the rest of the demons, at least, though the more primal newbloods tended to act based on scent over any of their other senses. She did not get a good look, but an ominous shadow of greater size than the other demons passed through her limited scope of vision, and she heard the slight graze of metal dragging across the ground. It was unlikely to be a hunter – few were simple enough to use melee weapons, and those that did kept them sheathed – and the size was roughly equivalent to that of one of the larger demons. A Juggernaut? A Punisher? Too small to be one of the Devastators. She would typically err on the side of caution and assume a Punisher, but something told her that a Punisher appearing this quickly and this closely to a ghost town was unlikely. They were not unintelligent creatures, and enough hunters could bring them down. They would fight on their own terrain if possible.

Though Glyph made no more direct movements, she kept herself ready. If newbloods were coming, better that they made stupid mistakes first. Culling demons and weak hunters was just a part of the hunt, after all.

Drifter could smell something on the air, a human, at least thought it was a human. Something seemed odd about it, but he didn't have time to investigate. More were coming, a woman on a horse seemed to be out front of the group though. Kneeling down he focused on her so he could get a closer look. Sighing though he slinked back and away. He started moving much quicker heading towards the center of town, though jumping from roof to roof. He took an odd root, moving skirting around the edges as he moved down lower as well. This way he would lose any one fallowing him. He let more of the demon leak out however, soon coming across a ravager. It looked up at him, stared a him as Drifter stood there staring back. From the low level demons like this there was a 'be and let be' they saw him as a greater demon, at least greater then them, as long as he left them alone they tended to leave him be as well. Which at this moment was the wisest choice. He looked towards the tower as the two parted ways. It didn't take long for him to arrive at the edge of it, standing on a roof top looking at the small gathering, cursing some as he looked at the juggernaut. It was good he didn't kill that demon, as soon as he did the demon horde would rush towards him. If a human kills a demon, it was just a human and demon doing what they do. If he did, he was encroaching on another demons claims, challenging the alpha.

As he stood on the edge of the building he looked at the small horde and the juggernaut. The Juggernaut looked right back at him, soon it started to thrash about, slamming it's 'sword' on the ground. It was daring him to come forth, asserting it's authority over this husk of a town as it's dominion. Usually he would use this to his advantage, challenge the strongest to for leader ship and the rest would leave them to fight. Then he could turn on the rest of them and slaughter them with the best out of the way, but now, the fight would take to long. The others would be here before it was done and by that time he would look much less human when they arrived. Something he didn't care to have to explain.

Turning his back he moved away, further from the town center as he kept skirting around around the edges. He kept to shadows now, and soon was hiding his presence, pushing his energy down as he stayed inside of a room. Moving he sat down in a chair 'shadowmane' he called out to his horse 'move closer, stay on the outskirts of the town' soon he closed his eyes as he could sense and smell the magic moving closer. Even that strange presence was close by as he rested for a moment. He would wait till nightfall before moving out again, not wishing to make himself known just yet, as long as they didn't need him.

"So that's where it is then, eh?" Reid asked out loud to no one in particular. They had gotten close enough to the town to make out the figures of demons clinging onto a tower. It was known that demons were attracted to crystals, so it was likely that the crystal the hunters were tasked to retrieve was indeed inside that tower.

So on the plus side, the location of the crystal was already confirmed. But on the negative side, the only reason Reid knew this was because there was a horde of demons guarding it.

"Well shit," Reid sighed, "There's no way I could kill 'em all on my own. I don't even know how much there are, if I had binoculars or something I could probably count 'em out...Damn, why don't I have binoculars? Or a scope? I gotta get one of those when I get back. Oh, I could attach it to my goggles, that'd be functional, and it'd look cool!" They paused. "Wait. Focus. I got a mission to do first."

Reid looked around, seeing that a few of the hunters seemed to be acting cautious. Good. They would be the perfect people to team up with. Soloing this mission would be impossible, working together would be the only way to survive this. Reid needed to get their attention though.

"Alright!" Reid suddenly shouted, loud enough for all the hunters to hear them, "It's time to team up! Who wants to be on my team?"

They were all near enough to the town by this point that a few straggling ravagers in the outskirts might be able to hear them. If Reid had gotten their attention, so be it. If their fellow hunters couldn't handle a couple low level demons, they had no business being out there.

@Mike73
Rose just finished equipping herself when she noticed a person shouting out about teams. She looked out at the town and figured she could probably use the help. It was a mile away, an undoubtably packed with demons. She walked up to the person and smiled.
"I'd like to be in your group."
She paused and thought for a moment.
"As long as you can pull your own weight."
She held out her hand, the one with the gauntlet on it.
"I'm Red. Nice to meet you."

@Araby264

"Awesome, my first taker," Reid grinned, "Smart choice, teaming up with me. Don't worry though, I can pull my weight just fine." They shook her hand, and continued, "Red, huh? It's a pleasure. You can call me Reid. Pretty fitting that the two hunters with similar names are teaming up, right?"

Reid clasped their own hands together after that.

"Right. So. We need a plan. Even from here I can tell we've got a horde of demons just waiting for fresh meat to waltz into town. I've got a grappling gun, some dual action revolvers, tactical bombs, and a bit of wind magic under my belt. Whaddaya got, and how can we use our tools together to survive this mess?"

@Mike73
"Nice set up. I've got my gauntlet which uses magic to pack an extra punch, my sword which I can throw and have it come back to me and then the girls"
She moves her jacket aside to show Ivory and Ebony.
"Which shoot bullets. And from what I can tell from here, which is not much, most of the demons down there are just mindless and looking for anything that moves... "
She gets down on her knees and draws while she speaks.
"So my plan is, I run through town, make as much commotion as possible, draw them all to me, then lead them into tight space, where you will already have set up some tactical bombs. The demons run in, you hit the switch and-"
She makes an explosion noise and hand sign.
"After that it should be easy to take out the stragglers with small arms and Close quarters combat. Only two problems with that plan."
Rose held up one finger.
"One, unless you have flared or something, I won't be able to tell where to lead them"
She holds up a second finger.
"Two, if I'm leading them into a tight space, I may not be able to get out of te blast radius in time. That's fixable though. I can find a way out."

Something about the state of the town got Bryn all a-tizzy. That special brand of demonic reek played about her nostrils, a tincture of decay, blood, and unnaturally bad body odor. Skelter buzzed in its sheathe as Bryn hummed under her breath, harmonizing with the frequency of the blade--though her tune was almost silent. Being a terrible mage, she often resorted to routines to get herself in the spellcasting mindset. With a flash of scintilla and an unnecessary flourish, Skelter flew forth from its scabbard, held tightly in Bryn's right hand.

In regular fashion, she only took stock of the situation long after she'd armed up. The horde of demons sat near the core of the town--and considering that the crystal had gotten destroyed, it's likely they'd holed up near it. Bryn counted them all out, not taking stock of their builds, sizes, or forms. From her viewpoint, she could see 13, the 'big fucker' included. A short jog east of her, just outside of sight, sat the cannon fodder--she'd been too deep too many times to go diving into the fray without anyone to patch her up later, and had been the meat before on one too many occasions.

And then there was the big shadow off to her left. A little demon Bryn hadn't seen made a beeline for it.

Flash. Chunk. Dead. Dull thud.

"...That cunt is on a horse!" She called, possibly a little too loudly. Stamping her boot on the ground, she tilted back onto her prosthesis, regaining her balance. Looking back towards the town, one of the smaller rovers had started eyeballing her. "...Shit."

In a couple seconds, Bryn was hugging dead weight, hilt-deep in demon. Its misshapen skull crackled with energy, a satisfying, crisp noise. Sparks darted around its form as it sloughed off of her blade, collapsing in a heap in front of her. Clearing her throat, she quickly sheathed the crackling, sparking blade, palming Helter instead. Pressing her thumbs against the neck of the handle, she pointed her index barrel-wards and dropped her arms into a ready position, so as to not accidentally shoot anyone.

That horse worried Bryn. Anyone with that kind of firepower and higher ground boded ill for her payday. She hadn't had steady work in almost four months; losing this crystal meant she'd have to start taking out loans. Her lodgings were crap and getting relatively expensive, but food and bed came before comfort.

She would kill for a good meal and a shower. In fact, Bryn often did--contracts were contracts, and got thrown her way for good reason.

Now, though, all Bryn could do was wait. Going in too soon would get her killed, and she'd rather die among a field of corpses, not just a couple.

"Killed 13 demons and one big motherfucker, all by her lonesome, even after all the other hunters died trying... Howzat for an epitaph?" Bryn chortled, talking to herself to fill the silence before the brawl. She was tense, excited, and raring for a fight.

...Above all, though, Bryn was ready to make some cold, hard cash.

@Araby264

"Those are a beautiful couple of guns," Reid said, giving an approving whistle, "Your set up seems pretty good for a killing spree or two. I like it."

As Red told them of her plan, Reid nodded along, before giving their own input.

"Sounds like a decent enough plan. But uh, I may have been misleading about those bombs. They're not technically bombs...more like, homemade grenades. Not traditional grenades either, the only damaging ones I have just blast shrapnel in every direction, minus an actual fiery explosion. But! With a little bit of on-site tinkering, I can make it so a few can explode manually with the press of a button. And the shredding shrapnel's shorp enough...shrapnel's sharp, bluh, tounge twister. Whatever, it's sharp enough that it'll rip the low level demons to shreds, easily, and even if it doesn't get 'em all, the leftover shrapnel will be all over the ground, so the surviving demons won't be able to make chase without tearing up their feet."

Reid took a deep breath and let it out after all that talking before continuing.

"As for the two problems you have...well, I don't got flares, but I do have smoke grenades, I can use those. Just look for the light grey smoke, it'll look completely different from the black smoke rising from the charred buildings and human remains. Problem number two is a bit more tricky. Maybe you could punch a hole in a building to make a speedy escape. If worst comes to worst, hiding behind a concrete wall should do just fine. Metal shrapnel can't cut through concrete. All that sound good?"

Jordan had shifted through the houses as more hunters showed up. He had heard the dregs of one teams plan and did not see any point of joining it, leaving them behind to do what they willed. Instead he searched around for materials, anything that could be used in the upcoming battle. Scrap metal was numerous but besides that there was little else, burnt wood, warped glass, and bones were all that was left in the end. However his search wasn't all for naught as he found a large bundle of rebar near a house that would never become constructed. The only detriment to his find was a lone demon gnawing on the bones of a construction worker. The man himself had died fighting, the remains of several long dead demons around him attributed to that. The demon didn't realize Jordan was behind it until his shadow had dominated the area around it and by that time his fist was already around the creatures diminutive neck. There was a strangled squeak, a snap, than a gurgle as Jordan crushed the things neck.

Throwing the corpse away, Jordan payed respects to the fallen before moving onto his prize. Rebar, in his experience, was fairly useful. It was a staple of his pit falls but today he had a very different idea. With enough force they made adequate spears and if worse came to worse than they made handy clubs. With the bundle in tow, Jordan decided that his time of intentional hiding was over and instead walked out into the open. Making his way across the street, Jordan began to search for a smithy or a stable. Either one of those should have something he could use.

The Town

The approach of the hunters was not unnoticed. Those high on the towers relayed the information to the Juggernaut. He let out a growling noise and those clasped onto the tower released their grip and landed on the ground, leaving only two atop it to keep an eye on things. The rest of the Ravagers quickly formed into three small groups of 5 and moved out from the center of the town towards the various hunters that were approaching. It would take only moments before contact would be made with most of the hunters. Unlike many of the demon hordes prior, this one was highly organized and would likely prove a greater challenge to the hunters than the hordes they had previous dealt with.

Joining the small groups moving out towards them were those that were awoken from their rooftop slumbers, now running along the rooftops to join them knowing that the potential food supply had just increased. Demons were much easier to deal with generally when well fed. Those nearest to starvation were the most dangerous of all, having seemingly the energy of a fully rested demon and the ferocity of a creature at the end of its life. Those that they picked up as they moved towards the hunters would be the most dangerous of all, with little regard for their own life.

The demons had no issue indicating their approach, a strange screeching noise, almost like a form of laughter, accompanied the sound of their claws on the dirt and rooftops.

Helter did not so much bark as it did howl.

The demons got organized. Grouped up, started approaching in droves. Bryn counted the oncoming group--one for each finger, and her index got itchy. One demon rose its voice into a piercing crescendo--and the note staccatoed in its throat. Six bullets: two in the head, one in the gut, three peppering its thighs, all working together to bring it to the ground. Her depth perception was awful, and Bryn's only way of compensating for it was the application of extra bullets.

The bullet casings tinkled a lullaby for the demon's dirt nap. Thoughts raced through the bounty hunter's mind, counting the shots like beats. Bryn watched the demon drop. Its head bounced. Four left, closing fast. Fast, faster. Too fast. Her mind raced through its options.

Move.
Fourteen bullets sat in her magazine, and Bryn herself sat like a duck. She hated immobility, but for some reason, her leg wouldn't cock. It wasn't some fear paralysis; something kept her there. Move. Her instincts weren't operating. Move. Bryn wanted to, but didn't see an alternate option. Move, move, move, move... Her eye rolled in its socket, surveying the scenery--and found her way out. Saloon, sitting on the outskirts. Old wood, easy to clamber. She'd get awful close to the demons but--

Move!

And she did. Off like a shot, her prosthesis whistled in duet, carrying Bryn--and her tune--up the nearby wall, piercing its way up the planks with almost surgical precision. Her fingers barely touched the wooden siding. Making it up onto the awning pistol-first, the rest of her rolled forward and reacquired her piece in one fluid movement. Rational thought turned to static in her mind, ringing like a flashbang between Bryn's temples. One of the demons was following her up. Its head poked above-and-it-was-gone. Skelter screeched in harmony with the demon's death throes. Bryn didn't even recall unsheathing it. She knew this feeling. She relished this feeling. Pure, sweet adrenaline and its moment-to-moment nepenthe came to her aid, as the browns and blacks and reds of the wasteland turned all-too-sharp, and the three remaining demons turned nearly florescent against the townscape. The climb slowed them a touch, but they were much closer to Bryn than she ever would've preferred. What she did have on her side, though, was a command of the landscape; she knew towns. One of the quick ones zeroed in on her and took a pair of shots to the leg. It barely even seemed to care.

Bryn bounced against the awning, heading backwards into the ramshackle, long-destroyed window. The quick one followed and it followed fast. Careening through the window, she'd only had a moment to raise her blade against the all-too-quick Ravager. Sinking the tip into the demon's throat, she flung with all her strength, pulling Skelter back at the last second as the demon went careening down into the bar. She heard its vertebrae snap. Another shot to the shoulder was all she could get in before its cohorts made it through the windows, with Bryn herself sandwiched between them.

8 foot drop.

Crowsfoot stuck the landing for her. One Ravager pounced into the other when she jumped the railing, but they quickly took stock of the situation. Before Bryn could regain her balance, the taller one broke the railing and chucked the splintered beam, to which her left leg replied with a sickening 'schlick.'

The beam gored her inner thigh, cutting deep before turning hard and landing between Bryn's legs. It was survivable, but the demon was prepping for a jump and that was most certainly not. Seven shots went wide, but the eighth struck it square in the chest mid-leap. The other demon wasn't so unlucky; on pure instinct, Bryn's foot cocked back, pushing the beam directly in its path and ripping its shoulder cleanly from the socket. It was alive. It was pissed.

And, considering the low growl from the other end of the bar, Bryn's ears had deceived her. Whatever had cracked, it wasn't the demon's spine. Her leg was getting shaky and these demons were getting worrisome. Her pupil retracted to the size of a pinhead, and her arm moved like a whip. Bryn left two shots in the closest Ravager, and her last bullet found purchase in the other's skull, rather than its shoulder. She kept pulling the trigger.

Click-click-click-click. Her mind kept moving, racing. Her first adrenaline rush of the day. Bryn crumpled into a seat, pulling a new mag out of her pocket and reloading.

Fresh wound. The laceration was pretty deep, but the blood was oozing. Tearing off the rest of the remaining pants leg, Bryn made a bandage that'd suit her until she could get the cut looked at. It felt cold at the edges, and the cold mixed with the abrasive material didn't do anything to help how much the wound hurt. Biting past the pain, Bryn holed up in the saloon, watching for the next batch of demons. She'd made a hell of a lot of noise, and knew that more were coming. She put her back to the bar wall, raising Helter towards the doors.

This was going to be a long day.

@Shotgun Bear
Hell. He was late. Conrad grimaced and leaned forward on his horse, nudging it to a faster speed. The train roared by, heading away from him and back towards the nearest track switch. That meant the hunters had already unloaded and entered the town. Another horse trotted behind the one he road, kept in check by both training and a line tied to the back of his saddle, a matching saddle adorning it’s back.

It wasn’t great to be heading out so far, but work was work. He had avoided the train because of his firearm. It was worth enough to make him worth attacking for the weapon itself, if not for the crystals within it despite their small size. Parting from it for the sake of policy was insane. Conrad hadn’t bothered explaining that to the employer though, just simply giving a dry request for a ride. The man was stingy as a demon chewing a mouse-tail though. Messenger horses. It was a simple, if expensive system. The riders could switch off the mounts every mile to keep one fresh, so that they could keep faster paces. The rich could afford to have a few extra mounts on hand, but couldn’t possibly lend one to their poor employee. Curse them.

Conrad reigned the horse in to a slower trot, eventually slowing to a stop as he approached where the hunters had been abandoned by the train. It likely would bring another load of hunters back; men who were late to the fight, and scavengers looking to grab up equipment from newly dead hunters. That wasn’t his concern though. He dismounted, kicking up a small cloud of dust with his boots. He adjusted his pistols and the pipe-sword in its loop before tossing the reigns to a waiting man. He had taken the train out here so he could take the horses back. It was a compromise. Take the horses there, and ride the train back- if he was successful. The quiet man slid a leather tube as long as his forearm from one of the saddle bags and a small pouch of jerky that he tied to his belt. That tube represented his job. Conrad slung it across his back by its strap. Inside would be paper and some charcoal.

A lot of the hunters here likely wanted a shot at the crystal, a definite grand prize. Some would likely be willing to stab backs before this was over to get at it. Luckily, Six Shot had snagged a decent contract from his old mentor; get a copy of the inscriptions used on the crystal, specifically around any cracks. Simple enough with some skilled rubbings and a bit of knowledge of inscriptions. All Conrad had to do was get close. He stood silently to watch the other man mount and race back towards the nearest outpost along the train tracks before turning towards the town. Even from a short distance, the smell was prevalent. Smoke.

Up close was worse. Usually was. Conrad didn’t flinch when his foot snapped a gnawed rib in half on the way into town, opting to take a more dominant stance towards the center of the street than to try to sneak around the edges. The other hunters were already in town, so cringing about was only inviting oneself to become prey. The screeching echoed across the wilderness- the roar of demons was easy to recognize. Someone had to put these damn demons in their place. Gunshots started to ring out over the town, some carefully placed, others frantically released in droves that ended in screams from time to time. He stepped off the road onto a surviving porch and sat down calmly on a slightly charred rocking chair, quietly watching the antics of one of the hunters who faced five- four demons. She was quite agile, climbing up the wall of the building and onto it’s awning before crashing through the window to get away from her pursuers. Part of Conrad tugged, urging him to stand and shoot down the demons, rush to her aid. That part of him had no chance. A tsunami of cold fascination and grimness drowned it like a puddle in a flood. Every single shot made the man wince inwardly though. She wasn’t making it easy on herself. In the silence that followed, he heard creaking above him as more demons moved onto the roof, pouncing down to stalk down the street towards the bar. Conrad tracked another two leaping from nearby buildings to the roof of the bar. Two on the street, two on the roof. Company.

Conrad calmly drew his handgun in his right hand, drawing and readying his pipe in the other. The demons were too focused on the noise to notice him behind them. At least until another crashed out the door behind him as he was sneaking closer to the demons stalking the bar from the ground. That plan was shot. The two in front of him jerked at the noise, looking back. Conrad made a split second choice, knowing the two on the roof could leap at any time. He replaced his pistol and drew the true ‘Six Shot’ in a blink of the eye, flicking the chamber to Gravity burst and taking an instant to line the shot up with the chest of the beast in front of him even as he ran forward, the beasts howling and charging him. Conrad pulled the trigger, and the muzzle flashed- but no sound came out- other than the crash as the demon was rammed through the wall of the bar across from them as it’s own bodyweight carried it backwards into the bar- and possibly out the other side, if it was heavy enough.

Conrad didn’t wait to watch the spectacle though, continuing his charge forward as he holstered the pistol and swung the bar like a bat at the face of the second demon as he passed- forcing it to raise its arms to block the hit. He didn’t pause for a second swing, rolling through the hole he had just made with the other demons body in the wall of the bar and turning to brace the pipe-sword against his foot, impaling the first demon to come charging through after him, shoved along by it’s ‘friends’.

That woman would be in here somewhere, hopefully. Conrad didn’t spare a glance though, dragging his .44 out of it’s holster and sending two shots whistling into the demon jerking on the end of his sword. He had already started ignoring the beast before it stopped twitching, trying to place a shot on it’s buddy trying to shove through from behind. The demon’s on the roof would be coming through soon too.

"If you are alive, I could use some help here."