The gate to the West is fraught with mystery, intrigue, & yes...danger.

It was thought by the Ancient Egyptians that to "go West" was to go to the afterlife. the Ba, or Egyptian concept of the greater soul, would travel onward to be tested by the Gods while the Ka, the lesser soul, remained with the body.

If it seems odd that I quibble about such esoteric matters, bear with me dear readers, bear with me.

As I passed the still patrolled border of what was once the proud TANN Alliance, I found myself beset by a stillness - for such a land of adventure, this humble scholar found the Wastes...peaceful. Serene.

Or, so I thought at first.

Armed with a natural curiosity I gained from my Mother & my Grandfather's winning smile, I was accompanied only by my trusty beast of burden Daisy as I was beset by a most fearsome apparition - rising before me like unto the Devil himself was a being calling itself the Thin Man - he bid me follow, & though an attempt was made, I fear a bungle on my part lefty my dear Daisy mortally injured!

I was, of course, beside myself with grief at this turn of events! The apparition assured me that this matter was not beyond it's mysterious powers...I only needed to rescue a young lady named Maya & destroy some "source of great abundance" along the way...pressing a leather ledger into my admittedly numbed hands, he pushed me on my way - that way being, the small frontier town of Pinwell.

There was an odd young lady who was spat out from the ground then, but after some interrogation they turned out not to be Miss Maya - I was aware of a certain skulking, shrouded figure following my trail, & thought it best to make haste to the town ahead. There, I pieced together, thanks to the mixed curse & blessing that is my the Psychic talent strong in my Mother's side of the family, I deduced that these desperate townies had been lured by the very demonic apparition that had accosted me to sacrifice travelers such as myself for a measure of water!

During this time, the young lady who had been spat from the sand proceeded to wave a lantern at everyone in sight, mumbling about prophecy, blessings, & similar incoherent nonsense.

Poor soul must have got to much sun.

As I made to win over the locals & acquire a serviceable firearm in the process, some great commotion came fro the building the women folk had retreated to! Shouting out for Maia among the fray, I gained a clue to the disappearance of the young lady, & traveling below the benighted bridge I would see my worst fears reality - some terrible power had been spat up from Hell in the form of a painting, & as the fallen Priest brandished it at the young lady chained like unto a sacrificial lamb, so too did the waters poor from her mouth & nostrils, as if like the headwaters of the great Mississippi herself!

Two surly men with scatter guns held vigil, but the strength of the righteous was with me that day, & I did in fact smote them with fire & great noise like unto the good book itself! The Priest turned his terrible Talisman my way, & so it was that my own lungs filled with the diabolical waters! Nothing a firm hand on the trigger of a Remington 12 gauge couldn't solve however!

The source of the spell broken & the girl saved, I would turn my efforts to saving the soul of the town, led astray by a wicked thing in the guise of a man...I say that, yet is it not true the Devil kept his word? My dead Daisy was returned to me unharmed...

The Mysteries of the West run deep, my friends. Returning to the village, it would seem the hooded figure assaulted the town folk, being revealed as an abomination not unlike an Arachnid in nature & apparently filled with the Devil's own fire! Several were killed before the creature was brought down, among them my little lantern wielding friend.

A sorry end...you were too innocent for this world. I will keep this spare lantern to remember you buy.

Having inspired the people of Penwell to look beyond their sins & have faith is such lost technologies as solar stills, deeper wells, & cisterns - it was time that I was on my way. Some of the townsfolk, despondent about the crimes they had committed while deceived by the Thin Man, could no longer call this place home & set out to find a new home & perhaps forgiveness elsewhere.

While Pinwell was an interesting adventure, my soul yet burned with wanderlust, & so it was that I accompanied these new pilgrims, at least for a time. I have taken the burden of the odd brass cup used in the Eucharist rite, fragments of the painting I destroyed, the Bible given to the Parson by the Thin Man, a lantern that belonged to poor young Moff (no surname), & this leather knapsack that belonged to the abomination...an abomination by the name of Sylvia Silkwood (!) no less.

Among other goods I liberated for my troubles, I found that each of them had a leather quarto journal just like the one the Thin Man had pressed to me - agents of this creature then...though am I also such an agent? If so, why send me to undo the nefarious work they had wrought here.

Truly, my supply of questions exceeds my stock of answers!

Be that as it may, I continue on my journey perhaps even optimistic about what lies ahead. As Benjamin Franklin was purported to say, "Energy & Persistence conquer all things!"

Well, with nothing but countless miles of Big Sky country ahead, this amateur historian means to find some answers!

Making light of the mysteries our ancestors have left behind is not without myriad dangers, dangers that were certainly on display in the town of Whitehall.

While mystical methods were employed by the mysterious forces behind these ledgers, the threat that was faced was all too mundane: the horrors of the old world & the brazen cruelty of vicious men.

Led to Whitehall, my strange companions & I received a cold reception from people clearly in dire need. While we won over there resistance (most of us anyway), we had been tasked with saving yet another town before dawn - setting to that task, I would find that the spirits had indeed cursed this town: in the form of terrible radioactive isotopes in the hands of the unwary.

Gathering the town & the strangers that I had arrived with, matters were dealt with as best as could be managed - while I did not find it necessary to enter the house myself, it was simple enough to deduce that the delvers had drawn terrible artifacts of the old world & spread such contamination through yonder village.

The Emersons...little Ivy...could not be saved.

It grieves me to know that, but just as Moff & the others, what one Man can do is limited to the reach of his arms. To pretend to have greater resposibility is a game of Kings & Fools.

Even so, when it was clear that trouble was coming, I took up arms & stood against it!

...to my sorrow, I must say. Scarred, mutilated...what am I to do?

They say I saved this town...yet I weep from my remaining eye wishing my mother was here.

The grateful citizens of Whitehall allowed for our valiant band to recover from the tribulations we had faced on their behalf with complimentary room & board. I would like to say this was a time of jubilant celebration, but this was not the case.

The Emersons did not last the night, & per my direction the bodies were interred into the dig, their fine family home boarded up: a warning to all that some treasures are best left undisturbed.

Through the unbearable pain of my injuries, I would come to discover that the others I had arrived with also bore unusual talents not so different from myself. Sal had the means to sate all corporeal needs through the mysterious oil that he produced from his own body (?), Russ was a craftsman of some lost technology, & Jorge the Sailor wielded a mighty harpoon to good effect.

Perhaps I will be so fortunate to find a copy of "Moby Dick" for him to peruse, provided he can read.

With my sewing kit I have fashioned an eye patch to cover my disfigurement. I'd like to say it adds a certain dashing flair to my profile, but the pain throbs readily to remind me that I have been forever scarred. While rescuing this town was a worthy goal (& apparently I have taken another step to greater destiny - where I lack an eye I feel my extra-sensory perception continue to sharpen), I would be remiss, even a liar to say that I go forward with heavy heart: Perhaps, in my naivety & innocence I thought that doing the right thing would see me through these trials unscathed.

That illusion, with many others, lays at rest with the Ivy Emerson & my lost eye.