Occams Razor

Mason sits at a table inhabited only with himself and a pen and paper which are in use as he scribbles furiously. His gaze occasionally turns upward as if digging up some forgoten detail, and there is a gentle clank of his chains as he adjusts his arms while he works.

Mason sighs and takes of his hat while pondering. His eyes light up when he sees Sallie.
"Hey Sallie, come grab a seat. I've been giving some serious thought to the other night and what you were saying about The Butcher, or The Pennance as I guess its really called."

Mason puts down his pen and points to some of his barely legible scrawl that marks his notebook.
"While I don't for the slightest think its a good idea to go track it down and pick a fight with it, better yet I think the Sherrif has the right of it with a see-and-run policy. But you have a good point, if we learn more about it, maybe we can find a way to hurt or even kill it should we need to. Now it may not have a weakness: a Stake for Draculas, Silver for Werewolves, or whatever. Hell come to think of it I have no idea if that stuff works on those things either."

Mason pauses for a moment with a perplexed look on his face
"Hey are Werewolves real? I mean we saw Draculas... you know what never mind it can wait. But if it does have some sort of weakness or vulnerability we should try and find it."

Mason again points to his notepad
"I figure we got two topics to go over, one what we know about it. From first hand acounts, second hand, rumor, hell everything. Two what we can do to find out more. For number one what do we know?"

Sally comes sliding to a halt and luckily crashes into one of the chairs at Mason's table. The half-mad look of glee in his eyes rolls back some as soon as the Deputy Marshal starts talking business- though, surely, it will be back before too long.

"I dunno 'bout no werewolves, but from the sounds of it, Adam Morsi is somesorta were-crock-o-dile, so that sounds an awful lot like the same wheelhouse. Last I checked, though, he was fixin' to go for a swim in that their poisoned lake..."

Sally shakes his head- it's be a right shame if Morsi went out 'cuz of some dirty pond water, "But I'm bettin' that big fella's tougher 'n most, he prolly shrugged off whatever's in the water."

With a glance to Mason's notes, Sally closes his eyes and tries to think through the remaining fog of hangover- Vlk's beer helped with that some- and recall the events of the fall:

"So my M27 carbine's rounds didn't do shit to him. In that first go-round, I tried suppressing fire, just wingin' him some, and it bounced right back at me. Same when I pulled my Smith n' Wesson 500 and tried to blow out one of his knees- my own revolver round bounced back and damn-near took off my leg. I've shot through a friggen ENGINE BLOCK with that handcannon, and it went all Mr. Rick-o-Shay on me," Sally shakes his head, his hand unconsciously falling to his hip, where his custom-enameled pistol should be.

"I know Isaac, er is it Isaiah?- that back country preacher with the fancy fist-bump- he was out dere swingin' with the might of the Good Lord on his side, still, notihn'. And..." Sally's eye fall to Mason's hand, and he's quiet for a moment. He'd seen that hand when it was more like a claw, with ridges of bones spiked through it, "you gave it the 'ol what-for..."

Sally shakes his head again, and gets back on point, "I'll say dis, though- it ain't brain dead. Big bastard started keepin' 'n eye on me. I gave up shootin' at it and just start goin' all C-Q-C hand-to-hand on him. Dunno if it hurt 'em, but it sure didn't care for it. It'd chase me 'round a bit, then take a swipe at me- I don't right recall what happened after those swipes, but at least it wasn't lookin' at e'ry body else while it was doin' it. I kept wakin' up with somebody standing over me... At the end of it, big ol' Jacob dragged me away from it. I might'a had some choice words for it's mamma, and I don't think it took too kindly to that. Gave chase a helluva lot longer than b'fore. After that, it just sorta vanishes into the sidelines. 'From what the Sheriff had to say, 't sounds like it can just sorta show up where it wants to. Whereever it's most "inconvenient." Waterin' holes, gas stations, public offices..."

"It's been brought to my 'ttention that JD hasn't had the pleasure of meetin' the Butcherman- he's got a way with the, uh, intangibles of the world. Might be worth a try. Also, wouldn't be a bad idea to see what that newcomer in the suspenders, Eugene, knows. He's a local. The sheriff warned me not to bring it up with ol' what's-his-name- Maynor- the sour-lookin' fella in the flannel jacket."

Mason nodded while Sally rattled off what he knew. Occasionally he would write something down, or would visably check his own notes to confirm.

"Yeah sounds about right, now as you know I was... pretty close during most of our engagements with it, and from what I can tell it was hurt. The Gunshots, and the like I just don't think it cared. When I was..."

Mason hesitates for a moment and reaches for his amulet before continuing

"... unleashed I also tried to break one of it's limbs, sucessfully too. It was able to shrug it off within seconds though. Helped me keep it at bay longer though, definatly bought me a few seconds of breathing space. It wasn't just gunshots that seemed to turn around and hit the shooter, a few of the times I hit it hard I felt as though it had been me who was hit. Also I know how to hurt Demons and it definatly wasn't one, and the Sherrif said it was some kind of Spirit of vengence or something right? Do we know anyone who knows anything about Spirits? That might be the best lead we have for finding a way to fight it."

Mason pauses and reflects for a moment, thinking back to the monstrous form in the dark; butcher knives flashing, the echoes of gunfire, and a twisted red sword adorned with a malignant eye that is grasped by a fleshless bone fist encased in barbed wire.

"Once we get out of quarantine we should try and track the places this thing has been spotted. Maybe its random, maybe its circumstancial, or maybe there is a pattern. The only way to find out I figure is to get as much information on this thing and it's sightings as possible."

Head buried under a nearby table of his own, Leslie continues his quest for surveillance equipment; his current goal involves a piece of gum that may very well be a camera and two tiny paper cutouts that resemble a crudely drawn Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. If these people are going to trap me here, he thinks to himself, they might as well have to sit through a live performance of My Immortal. (Leslie has never read My Immortal, but he knows the general idea well enough to bring down more than enough suffering on the poor unfortunate soul who will no doubt be watching his performance. Maybe he'll even take notes.)

Much to the relief of the wad of gum, Leslie is distracted by the nearby conversation. He squishes Weasley's face into it and approaches the table.

"Wow, I sure do enjoy reading science fiction novels! Is it alright if I throw in my two cents?" Leslie says, in a loud and stilted tone.

He leans forward. Quieter, he says."The Butcher was that monstrosity with the knives, right? Guarded the gas. My question is this; if it's a spirit of vengeance, someone has to have pissed it off. If anything, I think that's where you should start looking. Can't have revenge without motivation. Now, I know for a fact I didn't do anything to make it angry, but if this Sheriff guy knows anything about it he's a prime suspect in my fine unsolicited opinion. I mean, I hit the resort a little later than you guys did, but what was it doing there in the first place? Seems a little convenient that he was in the exact wrong place at the exact wrong time, don't you think? It didn't want us, or at the very least one of us, to get out alive."

"The most important thing about any supernatural being is motivation. If this guy's all about vengeance what's his catch? Someone messed up somewhere and we almost died for it. Hell, we might even be here because of it. Or maybe someone summoned it. I don't know, two dimensional guys like him; guys wrapped around a concept like vengeance; often have to be summoned or something. Or maybe he freelances. Regardless, there isn't much to work with. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to be very shy. Try insulting his mother or something. He might come after you."

Mason gives Leslie a friendly nod and listens to his input.

"From what Sheriff Winters says it is called "The Pennance" and the people responsible for it being here are loooong gone. We are talking precolonial times at the earliest who knows how far back exactly, so I am not sure how practical it will be to find out who they were or what they did, or who or what they pissed off exactly, not a lot of history books about that area and time period. There may be other ways, stories or something, I dunno. Anyway whatever the people did was bad enough that this thing has been terrorizing the area ever since, it doesn't seem to care that the people are long gone. I think it shows up whenever it is inconvenient, maybe there is more to it than that, some other purpose or specific trigger, that is something I am hoping we can find out. Do you know about Spirits or somethng? I have read that yes, they are a thing, but that is where my knowledge ends."

Mason's brow creases in thought
"One factor I found very noticeable was it has never given noticeable pursuit, it always lets us leave. Once we got far enough away it lost interest in slaughtering us, that too may be important. Think about it, did it just want to inconvenience us? Stop or slow us from our current task? Cause when we booked it it gave chase until it was clear we were leaving then it simply watched us run. Maybe it can't leave it's current area when it apears or something, like he manifests in a certain spot and that is his spot for that time. Or maybe he just is freakin lazy and didn't feel like hunting us all down and killing us one by one, which is what would have happened if it did chase us..."

"I do have a hand in the business, yes." Leslie, nods. "Though, I'm making a good portion of these inferences from personal experience and a general interest in mythology."

"If what the Sheriff says is true, that's where I would start. Look into the Native American folklore in the area. If it's precolonial, that's where you'll likely get your answers. Or maybe somebody can talk to him directly; I know if my goal was to avenge something I'd take any opportunity to exclaim it."

Mason raises an eyebrow skeptically and his face grows long and somber while he speaks.

"Uh talk to it? I guess... it didn't seem too talkative when he was busy hacking into anyone within reach. That said maybe you got to know how, if you or someone else can do that they are welcome to try but... I'd be really, really careful. More than just getting killed if you understand me, I dunno about Spirits like I said but I do know Demons. Should you ever face one of those, never waste time with words, heed not anything it says. Demons mix lies with the truth and nothing they say can be trusted, to converse with one is to willingly drink poison."

Mason trails off awkwardly his eyes distant and unfocused, his eyes close and he takes a long deep breath. When he opens them again he has clearly returned from wherever his imagination or memory had taken him.

"So it sounds like we have 3 avenues to pursue; One the Spirit angle, we find out more about spirits, get some people who know what they are talking about involved and maybe God-help-us try and communicate with it. Two we track it's movements, any and all appearances, the locals don't like to talk about it from what I can tell so this may be hard, as outside of them telling us there is no data as far as I know. And Third we look into the Indigenous people from this area, try and find out anything and everything we can about them, maybe figure out this thing's origin. That sound about right? Did I miss anything?"

"Heh, yeah... Drinking poison."

Leslie's face switches from amusement to confusion to a sentiment closely mirroring the one reflected in Fell's face. Staring blankly at the manacles on Mason's wrist, he replies, "Yeah. yeah. That does sound about right. Three avenues. If I can get some materials together in time, I'll see what I can do about communicating next time he shows up."

Leslie reflexively plays with his shirt collar while speaking.

"I guess, as far as everything else goes, its just a matter of time and information. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm afraid I have a.... thing... to deal with. At a place. You understand."

Leslie walks away, stiff at first, but shaking his head slightly as he nears the exit. He calls out, "Keep me posted! I'd like to think we can be of use to one another!"

Sally chaws on a bit of imaginary chewin' tobacco while Leslie skee-daddles.

"Iffen spirit-talkin is one of the roads we're takin', JD should be of help. Whatever he's got in hand can wallop a ghost, and I know he goes wanderin' inta tha woods to chat up the great spirit, or some such. As for the locals, it's pretty apparent that I ain't one of 'em, if ya catch mah drift. Though, sounds like there's folks 'round here acquainted with The Hill's townies. Might be worth chattin' up. And, as fer trackin its movements... that, that I can do. Once we get somebody that'll jaw on about this local boogie-man, I'll put rubber to road and see what was what."

Sally cracks his neck, "As fer speakin' ill of its mamma, let's just say that I got that base covered. In seemed to take a right interest in splatterin' my guts, so iffen the chance comes up to lay a trap and we need a damsel to tie to the railroad tracks, well, find me a purrty dress and I'll be your Huckleberry."

Sally scans around the room, "You visited that medical tent, by chance? Sounds like we all gotta do the ol' turn-your-head-and-cough routine, but I ain't been snagged yet."

"JD huh? That sounds vaugley familar, mind filling him in and seeing if he is up for it? The more the merrier in this endevor on all three fronts I say."

Mason gives a wry smile

"Yeah I am execting some ressistance from the natives too, I'm a boston boy born and raised, well have to just try our best to be accepted. The Pennance aside, I have no intention of moving their only to be comepletely outcasted, not if I can help it at least. Who'd you have in mind for people more accepted in the area? Lou?"

The Deputy Marshall gives Sally a long look that is somewhat incredioulus

"You really are eager to face this thing huh? Well hopefully it won't come to that, but lets say for the record: noted. I am still a fan of the avoid if possible plan and work on learning more about it and finding a way to kill it just in case we need to, if we can't avoid it. But then again thats just my vote..."

Mason's face darkens into a defeated grimace, as lively and energetic as he was mere moments ago while on the trail of their quarry, he now looks tired and worn as if he hadn't slept in weeks.

"Nah, not yet... I've been putting that off, I havn't seen a doctor or anything like that for a while...I can't exactly hide.... the chains. I figured that out pretty quick, when I attempted to conceal them it only drew more attenton, I've found enduring the stares and questions is quicker and easier, people are more interesting in what they don't see than whatever strange thing they see in front of them. Doctors and the like are less likely to accept whatever fast paced lie I throw at them, and they are less likely to respect my refusal to remove them for religious reasons. That's been my best exscuse, most people's questions die instantly the second they hear obscure religions sect, doctors are some of the few who do the opposite. They ussually don't care in what anyone believes in they only care about what is in front of them..."