Deadlands Noir Extinct in the Big Easy

Another Letter from Home

June 6, 1932

Margaret Ryan
10-56 Beach 22nd st.
Far Rockaway, NY

Fr. Sean P. Ryan
724 Camp Street
New Orleans, LA

Dear Sean,

It was good to finally hear from you in your letter dated May 25. Your father and I are so glad that you were able take a vacation and see something as exciting as the Indianapolis 500. We heard that there was a fire at some kind of building called a pagoda and that some people died. I hope that it didn’t ruin the race for you and your friends.

We have made arrangements to invest the $10,000 you sent your cousin Nicky. We were able to pay off his hospital bills and put the rest aside until he can find a way to support himself again.

Please be careful as you travel back to New Orleans. We will continue to pray for you and your friends safety and continued success.


Im Not a Doctor
But I play one in bed with hot librarian chicks

We’ve all bled. None of us had much fun doing it. Antonio just took the prize for worst bleeding ever, though.

We all got treated to some premium tequila while on our Mexican safari. Antonio drank the worm, and felt like he accomplished something of an achievement. Now he’s bleeding out both ends.

I’ll go to his funeral, but I won’t carve his tombstone, I’ll just put it that way.

Oceans Can Go Screw
I'm a Land Creature, Dammit!

That Ph.D waving buttwipe Kelso used his own former comrades to set a trap for us! He had something like five PT boats waiting led by his old pal Dautreve and the undead hussy Vanessa ready to smite us. I wouldn’t be here to write this if it weren’t for the providence that was Sans Bout and Gabriel finding us in their very own submarine and helping us out. Seems they’ve got themselves a working relationship with the krakens, and between our two vessels we were able to set up a dinner date between Vanessa, Dautreve, and the fishes.

Bout let us know where Kelso was planning to go: way deep into the Mexican jungle, south of Mexico City. A boat weren’t going to get us there, it’d be quicker to sail back and charter a plane. Good thing we’re stinking rich, because that’s what we did, and now we’re gearing up to drop in and spoil the bad doctor’s plans.

Speaking of gearing up, that crazy crawdad Vanessa (who better be dead this time) was even more of a wackjob than we took her for. That contraption she left for me to fix, well I finally got the time to take a decent look at it, and if it weren’t for my primer lessons in voodoo I doubt I’d’’ve figured it out. The dang thing is a my-hand-to-God zombie gun! If this thing worked proper, I could reanimate just about anything that were living within the past week. Didn’t care for the glint in Antonio’s eyes when I brought it up, I mean to take this thing apart like I never took anything apart before.

So we’re about to hop the plane and I just caught myself thinking: krakens, dinosaurs, dragons, this Kelso fellah sure does love the idea of collaring monsters bigger than him. One day he’s gonna come across something that don’t take to being collared. Best case: it eats him and that’s the end of it. Worst case: he wakes something powerful up that won’t go back to sleep.

In Old Mexico
We were able to deal with Dauterive and his minions fairly easily. Nicky’s electro gun works rather well for clearing an opponent’s deck. Once again Vanessa showed her evil self and once again, by the grace of God, I was able to put her down. Sans Bout arrived in a submarine after the battle started. How the Red Sect obtained and manages to operate it are questions I won’t be asking anyone anytime soon. A kraken also came to assist us in our naval battle. Afterwards we found Elijah Joyce floating near our boat and when we pulled his badly injured body aboard he was able to tell us that this had been a trap set by Kellso to delay or possibly kill us. Kellso, it seems, took a different route to Mexico. With an intercession by St. Jude I was able to stabilize him. I don’t know if he will still be a were-kraken, but I will continue to pray for him. Sans Bout has offered to fly us to Mexico on one of his “less” legitimate cargo runs. We probably should have tried this instead of the water route…..
The Kraken flies

The Kraken was supposed to be a pleasure craft but for her maiden voyage, we head off in hot pursuit of a Mad Scientist bound for evil crocodile-god infested Mexico. And I thought the Donkey show in Veracruz was bad. The ship has been ready for a while and has new paint and new papers. I had forgotten how sleek and big she is…how was I ever going to crew her myself? Twenty minutes of prep and we threw back the mooring and it was like one of those race cars that Nick was driving. She was off like a shot. Unfortunately, bound for trouble and not so God-forsaken Mexico.


Antonio and his Crew

The gumshoes tracked Kellso to the harbor. The harbormaster was more interested in sneaking away early and getting tanked all weekend long… even though it was only Thursday afternoon. Some smooth talking from Antonio and the Father loosened the harbormaster’s lips. Kellso had bought him off, making him swear not to reveal that he’d been there and was headed for Mexico on a PT boat.

With only twenty minutes or so behind their quarry, Antonio took control, ordering the investigators around the deck of the Kraken, preparing it for its most important journey.
They sailed through the night, the yacht seeming to fly over the waves. The group shared a flask and many stories about days gone by. No matter what the group discussed, one thing remained on their mind… and from time to time Father Ryan could be heard articulating this thought under his breath: I don’t want to go to Mexico.

As the sun rose in the east, Antonio caught a distant glimpse of a PT boat. He became the relentless captain, ordering his crew about. They slowly made up the distance. Finally, the boat was close enough that Antonio could spy a glimpse of the people on the deck. He recognizedTexas Ranger Dautrieve amongst the crew. What in the world?
Nickie saw other boats closing in from all directions.
The captain ordered his crew to alter course and take on the boat approaching from the southeast. Nickie unloaded with his amazing weapon, and Antonio cleared the remaining sailors on the deck. Claude pulled out his Hellestromme rifle and sprayed another boat’s deck with blood.
“I think we’ve got this,” Sven said, unhappy he didn’t have a target to punch.
The water to the north rippled, and a mini submarine surfaced.

An Unsteady Course to the Sea
I'm Going to Miss Feeling Grounded

Our best lead led us to a warehouse used by the misfit Navy division way back when our group was still figuring each other out. We’ve gotten smarter since then, and thank our stars the Navy hasn’t: they’re still using the place. We manage to get them all looking at the front door while we snuck in the back to the manager’s office to swipe his journals. ‘Course, the paranoid cuss had a tripwire set up in his desk tripped to an alarm, so our quick and quiet exist was a bust.

These folk may not be smart, but they’ve got hardware. One was decked out in some kind of mechanized shell, a walking tank in every way that matters. His buddies were quick to flank him and prepare to take us all en masse, but their rally point was right next to a pile of oil barrels. Me and my Shockshot took them and a chunk of the warehouse out in a single hit, but the tank shrugged off enough to make me jittery. Of course our own walking tank, Sven can punch through metal when motivated.

Between all the excitement and explosions, a lot of loot shook out of its hiding spots, enough that I needed help getting it all out. We came away with an extra dress Navy uniform, some encrypted notebooks, and oh yeah, THE ROUTE AND ITINERARY OF THAT TRANSMOGRIFYING QUACK KELSO!

Long story short: that was a fun trip downtown.

Antonio’s fixing up his boat to follow Kelso down Mexico way. It’s not as armed as what he’ll be travelling in, but it’s loads faster and is carrying some very dangerous passengers. Just hope I don’t get sea sick.

On the matter of Trust
Heading to Mexico
In most parts of the world outsiders are not trusted. Local populations only trust members of their family, then their clan, and lastly their tribe. In our supposedly advanced civilization, we are supposed to be able to trust the police, with certain agencies more trustworthy than others.

That is where the Texas Rangers are supposed to be. Thanks to Sergeant Dauterive’s perfidy, I shall be striking them from my Christmas List. I have always wondered how he managed to show up at the scene of the crime so quickly. Now it would appear that perhaps he has had a hand in the action all along. He is now on Kellso’s boat (a patrol boat “borrowed” from Malroy’s Ironsides) and that leaves us wondering how deep the corruption is……

Poor again

This entry is a bit behind but it seems like we get through with one headache and onto another. I got off the boat in New Orleans after a lovely river cruise with Amy. At sunset near Memphis I proposed to her and she accepted. I really only think that she agreed to marry me so that she can continue getting the pictures of the strange things we encounter. They seem to be making her quite a reputation. I splurged on an engagement ring in Indianapolis.


It cost a pretty penny but I had tons thanks to Kali. We enjoyed the remainder of the cruise and upon arrival I was immediately put back into poverty by the Black Hand and the cronies of Dr. Kelso. All assets seized. That is fine with me, I don’t need much. I have enough to live, a new fiancee and friends that can hook me up with a free meal from time to time.

Reading is Fundamental

Books…I could care less about books. I can read Portuguese and English but I never was able to get much enjoyment from the exercise. I never felt that it was worth it. Apparently, there are people that give a lot of worth to books and most of them seemed like idiots. Book ownership is not a direct corollary to smarts. It did not surprise me a t all that after we started tracking down the stolen books, we found links to Hexaco. They seem to be behind a good bit of the unsavory and illicit activities that plague New Orleans. How can a company get away with such things? Deals made with all manner of villians; like this fellow Rythnax. Turns out that the word ‘fellow’ is inaccurate. He was a dragon. I have heard of dragons in my travels. Chinese Thunder Dragons that can shake mountains apart with their roars…English serpents that breath flame and eat virgins. I sailed with an South American who told me of a dragon in the Amazon called the Iwanci that sank ships that traversed the river. Yellow, Black, Green…all sorts. Luckily, we fought the Glass Dragon…one well place blow from the father and dragon bits were flung all over.


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