On:
In: Deadlands, Fallen Flags

Agency Internal Dossier
TOP SECRET – US EYES ONLY
Verification Code 5-4-5-14
Subject: Dr. Thomas Huntington, PhD (Theoretical Physics, Military Engineering from École Impériale des Arts et Manufactures)
Author: “Tom Bondsley”, Field Agent

Dr. Thomas Huntington is a peculiarly normal man. Every Agency standard says that a man of his education, especially in an epicenter of advanced research, should show dangerous eccentricities, unstable nature, or at least occupational obsession. But Huntington goes to town, has coffee and plays chess, buys a few parts at the store beneath a bit of charming small talk, and goes home for a quiet night of work. He’s [Several illegible, scrawled out words follow] functional. The only oddity outside of his work is that none of his friends know where he lives. To ensure everything was secure and contained, a stealth team followed him home to find him drinking tea above his schematics and listening to classical records. Dull, harmless, the perfect investigation subject to clear off the list, if not for the fact that his current project is listed as “Trans-Dimensional Displacement Device”. By name alone, can’t let this project go untracked. Regardless, have ordered investigation teams to reduce checkup frequency to once per week. It is my opinion that a man such as Huntington can’t get into too much trouble in that length of time.

Continue Reading

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS

On:
In: Deadlands, Fallen Flags

Dear Diary, our train has finally come to a stop behind the twisted, torn out shell of the last train that went through. The warped rails rattled me to my bones, so I was looking forward to having a short walk on Terra Firma, but the train was apathetically beset by men and women in black dusters before we got the chance. Seizing the opportunity, I managed to extract a good deal of information from one of the greener looking ones. Apparently, the team that supports my quarry, having ingratiated themselves with the local law enforcement, were taken by █████ ██████ to a place called ███ ██████. There, the group known as ███ ██████ asked them to contain a rather powerful ████████, as they’re called. It’s my understanding that ████, one of the group I follow, had no choice but to reluctantly accept. With any luck, they’ll fall, and the gun will be a few reams of paperwork away from my possession. I’ll simply have to wait around and see if they manage to ██████ ███ ████ ██████ ██ ████████. My next entry will be on the page following, however. The dark-dustered fellow I was speaking to has asked to see my diary for a moment, and I prefer to write my entries in full, with no interruptions.

-Recovered from a hastily redacted page in the diary of an unnamed debt collector, written mid-August, 1877

Continue Reading

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS

On:
In: Deadlands, Fallen Flags

Dear Diary, bad news and worse news. Bad news, my train is scheduled to be delayed, to ensure the -previous- train’s recent combat didn’t leave wreckage on the tracks to destroy the -current- train. Even worse, there’s no sign of the deceased near the wreckage, save a few previously rotting fellows, so either my quest maintains the status quo ante, or my quarry is halfway down the windpipe of a Rattler. I shudder to think of the amount of money it will take to bribe someone in there to check. On the bright side though, I should be on my way to catching up. The team I follow seems like a team of do-gooders, and from what I hear, Denver and officers of the law make for lousy bedfellows for more than the usual reasons…

-Recovered from a page of shaky penmanship in the diary of an unnamed debt collector, written mid-August, 1877

Continue Reading

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS

On:
In: Deadlands, Fallen Flags

Dear Diary, I have finally recovered from a terrible bout of nausea from a rather unsavory drink. I suspect foul play, but I can’t rule out the possibility that the alcohol has simply absorbed some of the rural charm of this place, and my prim, bourgeois tastes were unaccustomed to its… natural charisma. In the course of my recuperation, it seems that my quarry has evaded me yet again. As hard as that was to tell among the rabble jabbering about the downfall of poisonous natives. Perhaps I was the only one -not- delirious. Either way, I’m certain I’ll regret not being on the train with them. Nothing for it but to wait for the next one. Perhaps it will have a bar car that suites my apparently prissy palate. Either way, as long as its quiet. Loud railcars are no good in this part of the country…

-Recovered from a fluid-stained page in the diary of an unnamed debt collector, written mid-August, 1877

Continue Reading

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS

On:
In: Deadlands, Fallen Flags

Dear Diary, or whatever one is supposed to say in the entires to their journals: I believe I’ve tracked down the group of people surrounding my employer’s gun to a small town in the center of what is now known as the Disputed Lands. My employer has warned me to be careful, as this area marks both a hotly contested territory for the great rail companies, as well as one of the far edges of my jurisdiction. It’s unlikely that the local authorities will be much help – doubly so because word is traveling through town like a brushfire in May about some sort of haunted fort along an apparently unusually dangerous river. These things are, of course, no matter. Finding them is objective one, and tradition dictates that one should visit the local tavern for information. What, dear Diary, is the worst that could happen?

-Recovered from a dust-stained page in the diary of an unnamed debt collector, written mid-August, 1877

Continue Reading

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: RSS