Baker blinked and sighed at the man's response. Whoever he was, he seemed like the type to take himself a little bit too seriously. All the same, he wasn't going to get by just calling this man by no name. Phil. He would now refer to this man as Phil, at least until he was given a proper name.

As he left, the man had told him to meet him at the Undertakers. That had to be the second or third time he had heard this man mention the under taker in some way or form. Now it was starting to get silly. All the same, Baker's curiosity was getting the better of him in this situation. He decided to go ahead and make some rounds for the rest of the day and try to clear out more of Briar's men before he would go and meet with "Phil" later. He would also make sure he was plenty armed in case things were going to go south.

Dustin nodded to the stranger. Another native, one she had not seen before. She should be sorry that his first impression of their town was so gruesome. But she was not. It was better that he saw the truth early on.

She accepted his help. "Yeah, they would not, but the barkeep will pay us in whiskey." When the last of the bodies were moved she brushed the dry blood from her hands.

She was not sure what to say to the man. She would have left him to his business, but, there was something about him that reminded her of home. She had not felt that in a long time. She had forgotten how much she yearned to return to a place that no longer existed.

Funny how things that weren't real had so much power.

"You just get here today?" She asked casually. "I'm Dustin. Tracker mostly. You know your way around yet?"

The two of them made quick work of the bodies. He had seen Dustin before, many times. Her features resembled that of a tribe he had some afilliation with many many years ago.

It sort of came with the territory of being so old really. When one finally gains the insight of just how pointless violence and war are, they tend to realize that peace reaps much better results. However not everyone was privilaged in this wisdom. It was wisdom only learned through longevity.

His affiliation with Dustin's tribe was most liekly long before her birth judgeing by how young the native looked but he chose to keep that information to himself for now. Wel'Chi had learned that informing strangers that you have existed for centuries tended to yield awkward results. Dustin in particular due to the nature of her tribe's history with the plague.

Perhaps if the ancient got to know her more, he would share fond stories of her tribe with her. Stories of when they had flourished as a tribe all those years ago.
His eyes grew distant and he smiled sadly to himself.

They were quiet for a few moments, busy cleaning themselves up as best they could. Then Dustin asked him if he was new in town and this drew a musical chuckle from the ancient, his eyes dancing with amusment at the nature of the question.

"No little sister! I am no stranger to these lands. I have been through Solomon and the surrounding territories on several occasions" He responded quietly with a smile. He allowed the silence to rein briefly before adding with a gentle expression "So, I reckon the innkeep has a tab to settle with us considering we just cleaned the mess infront of his saloon up. Now he might actually attract some patrons. How about that whiskey?"

The sun started to set on the town of Solomon as as He stood up from his seat. Grabbing his bag he flung it over his shoulder and started to walk down the steps. The Saloon had picked up again since the days festivities, people drinking, gambling, and entertaining the ladies of the night. Looking around he saw the bartender who looked at him before returning to work. In fact a lot of people looked at him, talking in hushed tons. Some saying it's about time some one did something, others saying he was a dead man walking. Though to him none of it mattered, he didn't care about the ramblings of people, he had a job to do. With that notion he left the saloon and headed for the undertaker.

Of course the undertaker was still awake, looking at him as he walked in. He was a frail looking man. Smiling he was missing a few teeth "I was wondering when you would come in" he said as He simply looked at him "I've heard of you" he said "Then you know to stay out" he said as there was a sly smile to that man and he nodded "of course" he said as he walking in the back of the room. He was left alone as he walked into the back for the room. Laid out on tables was five men as he smiled. Time to get to work.

hours later he was done, one of the corpses was stripped down, sigils carved into flesh as as he went up to the mans forhead, stopping he looked at him "Which Hell did you go to" he smiled as he carved in the symbol into it, the Christian hell, one of the newest and most popular of the hells. Smiling it was now a waiting game for the boy to show up.

Baker made his rounds for the rest of the day, checking on the rest of the townsfolk and running off the various ilk that decided to rear its head. It seemed like Briar's gang had mostly withdrawn for the day. He wasn't sure that was a blessing, however, it could just mean that they were getting ready to hit the town in full force at a later date. If that happened, there would be nothing he could do.

Like it or not, Baker was just one man. He had to get some sort of help in dealing with this problem. "Phil" as Baker had decided to call him seemed cable. At the very least he was handy with a gun. He was getting sick of the "boy" comments though, it was not only annoying but also demeaning.

At the end of the day, Baker decided to take the man up on his offer, but he proceeded cautiously. He entered the Undertaker's and found the titular man there. With a simple nod to the back, Baker walked back to find Phil standing there with a few dead bodies.

"Anything of interest?" He asked. He found the scene odd personally, but he would reserve judgment for now.

Little Sister... People around her were not usually so friendly. Whiskey, she thought, she could trust him as far as whiskey...

... In the tavern the barkeep was not in a good mood. She over-drank with the man. She would listen to his stories and be careful to tell none of her own. It wasn't much effort on her part. She didn't fancy herself a story teller, or fancy herself having a story worth telling... "Solomon is full of bad luck." She'd tell him this "getting more each day." Then she would stumble home...

... That night, she woke. She told herself that she had lost her flint and dropped it at the undertakers. However, this was a small lie. She didn't really know what roused her and brought her back into the heart of Solomon.

There were people in the undertakers office. The man who had hired her, and another young man.

She stood in the street, rolled some tobacco and herbs, wondering if she should intrude or wait. If the man had been alone she would have entered, but this other boy, baker, she didn't know him well, though she had seen him.

She decided to look for a back door. She wanted to know what this man who had hired her was up to.

You know that feeling when you're sleeping in a unfamiliar bed? When you stay overnight at a hotel and there are not enough pillows, or the sheets or too thick? When the A/C isn't working? Yeah, Manny is feeling that way, x50. He explicitly asked for the nicest and most furnished room, and they gave him this. A drafty, single-bed (only full-sized mind you), beer-stained room with paper-thin walls. Apparently well finished meant a single half-dresser and a chest in the corner.

Unacceptable.

He cemented this establishment's place on the list of buildings to evict or burn. For now he sat up and silently screamed his discomfort into the night that was well drowned out by his annoyance and anger. He couldn't very well sleep in this room as is and decided to go for a late night stroll. Thankfully the oppressive sun had finally set, and the air was only mildly stifling.

The town's atmosphere was actually less dreary at night, the cadence of the evening crickets were a peaceful contrast to the hostility of the day. In fact it actually surprised him to see a dim light coming from one of the quiet buildings. His curiosity piqued he investigates the storefront- it was the local undertakers. Is it customary for the dressers of the dead to work the night shift, surely it'd do the mind and body better to work the dead in the morning. Bah- must have been another quirk of the frontier. That being said, surely in a deadly frontier town such as this the undertaker must be making a killing(ha!) and Manny's entrepreneur in him screamed exploit, exploit it now! Do eeeet!

And who has Manny to disagree? He sauntered over to the front door, and after finding it locked, gave 3 quick and loud knocks.

"Hello. Anybody in there?"

He looked over to Baker as he walked in. He smirked to the boy with he spoke "Not yet, the festivities have yet to begin" he said. He reached into his bag as he pulled out what looked like a severed mummified hand, and as well it should. Cause that is exactly what it was. Setting it down at the head of the table each finger had a wick like a candle. "The hand of a thief" was all he said before pulling out a match, striking it and lighting each finger. Stepping back for a moment he let the artifact do it's job. Soon all of the bodies in the morgue groaned and as they started to thrash about on the tables. All except the one covered in markings. Soon his eyes shot open and it stood up as He grabbed it by the neck shoving him back down. "Good morning" he said to the man as he looked up at him "What in the hell are you!" He screamed out as He lifted him back up before slamming down.

"Briar Tell me about him now" He growled as he looked at the re-animated man. "He, he was our leader, took over three years ago. Showed up, killed our leader then said we were moving out here. Said we would prosper and that he had contacts.

"What contacts? who is helping him.
"Haversthon, It's Haversthon. Rumor is they are part of some secret society"
"Which one"
"I don't know, and not just that Briar...something is off about him. I've seen him get shot, it should of been a killing blow.He paused for a moment "I see you, the real you...What are you?"
"Nothing you would understand" He grabbed the hand and blew on the palm as all the candles went out. The bodies stopped moving returning to be nothing but corpses.

"Dead men don't lie" He said putting the hand back into his bag. Turning he looked to the boy "This town has been cursed, it's slowly becoming a beacon for the supernatural." He pulled out another cigarette and struck a match lighting in. "I can hear it's crys, it's echos. There is something in those mines

Baker immediately went for his revolver as the room went into chaos. How were these men suddenly moving? This was a morgue! Either the under taker was really terrible at his job, or there was something going on here.

Meanwhile, Phil just laughed and spoke normally. This was business to him, talking to the dead. Baker had heard the stories though. Men and women who had the power to speak to the other side. Demons, undead walking corpses. That's all it had ever been to him, stories. But now he was seeing this. Could he be hallucinating, or was this reality? Baker had to subtly pinch himself to realize he wasn't dreaming. When it was all over, Baker could hear his own heart beat but calmed himself down to speak, regaining his composure.

"There's a bunch of men that need to hang for their crimes, that's what's down there." Baker said as he walked around the room, poking each body to see if it would rise again. He stopped and looked back at Phil.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Baker asked. He still didn't trust this man and there was too much here he didn't understand.

Dustin had slipped into the back door. She moved between empty or half built coffin boxes. They came in all sizes. Most taller than her, but some... some were much much smaller...

She heard the men talking to one another, and she saw them through a half open door...

... What she saw next astounded her. She couldn't look away...

When it was over. She turned around and went back outside.

"Its the bad luck come after me..." She muttered to herself. She wanted to throw up, but her stomach was dry and empty. She was going to go home... but saw a man knocking on the door to the morgue.

Normally she would mind her own business.

But the bad luck was catching, she knew.

"Sir." She walked to the man, Manny. "Best not go in there. I'm sure it will be open in the morning for you. Move along tonight."

Manny had been waiting for a response when a voice echoed from the shadows. Manny wasn't coward, but he may or may not have jumped a bit. After composing himself, he turned to see a young savage.

"Almighty! Don't sneak up on a man like that; you redskins my like that creepy shadowy malarkey, but we civilized folk appreciate our hearts in our chest rather than on our mouths."

He looked the boy over: small frame, long hair, clean face, a far-cry from the head-scalping brutes portrayed in the plays back east.

"That said, I suppose you're right, the dullards running this establishment clearly have no sense of propriety, keeping a client waiting in the dark and all." He shook the savage's hand, not entirely waiting to be received.

"Mr. Polly, a pleasure to meet you. How about you tell me more about this fine establishment and town in reparation for that that slight scare you gave me. Hell, I'll even offer you a drink." He flashed a devilish smile.

"Well..." She was caught off guard by his friendly manner. "This is... a... morgue so... the dead feel comfortable there. That's about it, but, I suppose that's what counts in this kind o place."

"Undertaker is nice enough." Dustin sold herbs to him on a regular basis.

"Drink sounds good. Saloon is over there..." Dustin felt thirsty, after seeing such things who would not be. She pointed but didn't walk, not yet, there was something rooting her there. She was disturbed by what she had seen, but also left wondering. She was thirsty for whiskey, but also for answers.

"Why do you need the undertaker now? Did someone die somewhere?" Maybe she could get more work dragging bodies around this day... seemed to pay well enough.

"Why do you need the undertaker now? Did someone die somewhere?"

"Well I certainly hope so, otherwise I wouldn't even consider their partnership. To answer your question, Mister- um... Red, the way I see it, I expect this building to be particularly "lively" in the near future and as such a profitable venture."

He looked back at the saloon and back at the savage, Red here seemed "transfixed". Looked like he seen a ghost. Ha! Manny was rather fair in complexion but hadn't seen looks like that. He chuckled, "What's the matter Red, some spook come up from the ground and scare you? You know morgues typically make sure their clients are dead right?" He laughed, ignorant to how wrong he could possibly be.

Looking at the boy he smirked some watching him poking the bodies "They are quite dead now" he said as he backed some of his supplies into a bag. "I'm a bounty hunter of sorts" He said turning to look at the boy "I hunt down Cults and covens, even monsters of myth and legend." He added as he looked out the door before throwing his bag over his shoulder. "I suspected Briar was something more then human, but even that he is to weak to do what is happening here. I needed to know if he had any allies in this town, weed them out and find those that can be trusted to some degree" He was implying that the boy himself was a suspect as he soon walked out of the back room and then out side. Seen the native and the business looking man "Now you see Girl" he told her before looking to the business man.

He didn't recognize the man, and he seemed human enough. Lacking that stench of magic and corruption. That being said a business man was simply some one that He preferred to avoid, and trust very little "You, what is your name?" He asked him as he looked at him. His gaze not one easily met as his eyes reflected the years of hard living as those steely blue hues were not of a man you took lightly.

Dustin swallowed hard, the man had known she was there the whole time. He had power... Was it power over life and death? Or simply a foul plague...

Yet, what he had told the other man inside. Perhaps he was not the bringer of darkness, like she had first suspected. Perhaps he followed it, as he said, hunted it.

If that were true, the thing he hunted must be much worse than what this man appeared to be.

Manny looked at the stranger, and felt rather uncomfortable. HE had conversed with some of the slimiest and mean-spirited bastards back east, but something just sent shivers down his spine. Nonetheless, he steeled his nerves and countered, "Typically a gentleman offers his name before inquiring of another's, but the names Manny, of the Pollys back east." He swallowed through a dry mouth, "Now, that said I was just here to inquire about this business venture if you would be so kind to indulge me."