The Ongoing and Tragic Fall of John Wu

A Deadlands Reloaded Plot Point Campaign:The Flood Game Marshalled masterfully by the KillerGM himself.

The Collected and Ongoing Adventures of a Posse consisting of a Rogue's Gallery of Heroes and the party-definin' Harrowed Martial Artist Wu Xiangyu: The Immortal and Resplendent Dragon.

Original Dramatis Personae:

Full Name/Alias: Mariah/Mushi

Character: Blessed (Lutheran Pastor)

Hindrances: Pacifist (Minor)

Human Player: La

Full Name/Alias: Doc'

Background: Mad Scientist

Hindrances: Doubting Thomas

Human Player: C

Full Name/Guilo Alias: Wu Xiangyu/John Wu

Background: Chi Mastery

Hindrances: Habit-Alcoholic (Major), Outsider-Chinese (Minor), Poverty (Minor)

Human Player: Lo

Adventure #1 or "John Wu Dies at the End"

So these people were ridin' ______ rails west to the glorious Maze. Some, like Mariah, were coming to this God-forsaken land to bring a little bit o' God back into it. Some, like Doc', were more interested in all the readily available ghostrock for pushing the boundaries of Mad...ahem, "New" Science. And some like Wu Xiangyu (or John Wu as we became known to the barbarian guilo who just couldn't be damn well bothered enough to say anything right called him) were lookin' to a grand home-coming to Shan Fan after spending years makin' their way out East. Whatever they were on that train for, it all came to hard, screechin' stop...

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH---KTHUNK

A bunch of civilians start hooin-and-hawin, trying to figure out what's wrong.

John Wu, in a thick Cantonese accent: "I wonda if the train is being raided!" He proceeded to stick his spear tip out the window, seeing if there was anything in the reflection. Seeing only the train-conductor and some engineers standing out front, it seemed that wasn't the issue.

(Further Updates will follow as memory serves, expect many changes and drafts)

....

Looking at the front, they saw what had stopped the train. A great big chasm, clear up out of nowhere, had opened up and swallowed a chunk of the rail line and left a solid 60 ft. gap. Looking down, the impromptu Posse noticed another railroad was at the bottom of the chasm, exiting and entering some kind of tunnel.

"Is this the Transfer station? Will they accept my ticket?" John Wu asked the Conductor while waving his ticket vigorously in one hand.

"That ain't our train pardner."

"Oh, well I guess we might as well go down. I hope they accept transfers..." John Wu and Mariah prepared to scale their way down the chasm. Doc stayed back.

"I'm not going down there. This is a bad idea."

John Wu nodded his head. "Alright, that's fine. You can go sit up here with your good ideas and wait for the next train."

Doc looked behind him at the train, then forward at the non-existent track, then sideways miles into the endless, trackless desert.

"Yeah...Okay, I get your point..." he muttered as he joined them.

The posse scrambled down the slope, until they came to the tunnel. It was a double-track line, size-able and well-built.

"Whelp, guess we should go that way" Mariah pointed. Doc disagreed.

"What if a train comes and hits us?"

"That very easy, we just not walk on the tracks, plenty of time to flag down train and catch a ride."

Agreeing, they made their way down the track. John Wu put out his lamp and disappeared into the shadows of the tunnel, stalking alongside the group. Eventually Mariah noticed a light at the end of the tunnel, or rather, the middle. Approaching closer, they all saw a full-blown Hellstromme Industries Automaton, complete with chainsaw and Gatling gun. Doc' dithered for a while about disabling or hacking the device, but with some light convincing decided to leave well enough alone. The Posse carried on. Eventually they approached a well-lit central chamber. Four large train cars strewn around, piles of track, men moving to and fro, and a great big banner of the mighty Wasatch Rail Company.

"I think we should sneak around, at the very least, I can go and clear the way."

Doc pondered this "I'm not sure that's a very good idea at all. In fact, I think that is terrible."

"Well, what do you think we should do?"

Mariah chimed in "Well, we could all try sneaking."

"I can't stealth!" Doc said flustered.

"Hands up! What are you doing here?" said the Rail Warriors.

"Do you accept transfer tickets?" John Wu queried as he waved his ticket in their face

"What the Hell?" The Railwarrior snatched the ticket and studied it with a confused expression as John Wu explained their short and confusing journey trying to get to Shan Fan since the cave-in.

"Just...just hold on a minute..Follow me, you're gonna talk to the my Boss. He'll decide what to do with you."

.....

Dime Novel Tales: Peril in Perdition!

.....

Adventure #10: "Dances with Rattlesnakes" or "Called It!"

(Sam Hellman and The Boatride Back/A Spear for an Oar)

(Dr. Hemlock and the Screamin' Skeletons/Sarah gets another minor-phobia)

John Wu was outside the tent as the others slept. Grandfather had only needed three hours to keep their shared body in order. Three shitty, eternal, Standing Deer God asking him "if he sees it" hours. Silently practicing with his newly acquired spear, he heard a familiar voice.

"Heya...Hey John--"

"--Grandfather?"

"Yeah...look...I'm going to help you with your Martial Arts a little."

"Wait, you care about this Grandfather?"

"Yeah, whatever, shaddup. You know you like using your Chai right?"

"You mean Chi Grandfather?"

"Yeah, Chi, whatever. Mandarin Hell remember? Shaddup. Alright, I'm gonna show you how to channel your Chai...Chi. First off, you're gonna need to eat a heart--"

"--Grandfather! I have seen many Martial Arts Masters, and none of them had to eat a heart!"

"Fine, fine...we'll do it the hard way...ungrateful brat. Alright, first off, you put your feet like this..."

Not only was this longest Grandfather had ever spoken to him, but this was also the moment when John Wu learned how to channel his Chi directly into his attacks. Chi is just raw energy channeled from the Hunting Grounds, and who knows more about channeling energy from another dimension than an extra-dimensional demon?

Edge Gained: Chi Focus. Use Spirit instead of Strength for all damage done with martial arts.

Surely there couldn't be a nefarious reason for Grandfather to want John Wu to hit for D12 + Weapon damage? He he he he.

(A child prodigy/Two Contests: One Fair and Another Not)

(The Lion's Roar/Information Gathering/John Wu is disappointed with the economy)

(The Necessity Alliance/Cross-Cultural Exchanges)

(The Dark Place/"Huh?"/A Deal with the Devil/What? *Gets swallowed by locusts*)

Adventuer #16: John Wu's "The Isle of Ghost Tears Pt. 2: The Revenge of Stone Slinger Kim/Battle of the Dragons: There Can Only be One!"

The Posse stood staring at Kim as he lay writhing on the ground, unconscious and covered in the blood seeping out of several bullet holes. John Wu slapped him several times, telling him to wake up, as Dr. Hemlock reached into one of his many pockets. "Whelp, here ya go," he said nonchalantly as he jabbed the pulsing green syringe into Kim's chest, and injected the revitalizing liquid into his veins. Kim finally woke up.

"STOP HITTING ME!" There was a beat. "Sarah...Sarah shot me! Why did she shoot me?"

"Oh, do not worry Uncle Kim!" John did his best to console and update his elder, "It was not Sarah who shot you, but the evil shape-shifting demon who ate her soul after it devoured her body whole!"

"IT DIDN'T EAT HER SOUL JOHN!" Dr. Hemlock argued.

"I don't know, when it ate the corpses belonging to the ghosts they disappeared. Ghosts are pure floating souls!"

"THAT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME JOHN. THEIR GHOSTS!"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW ABOUT GHOSTS? FINE...whatever, it for sure swallowed Sarah's body, and took her form...why are you alive Uncle Kim?"

Kim pondered for a moment, reflecting on the moments shortly before he blacked-out from the shock of being shot several times...he remembered her smiling face, and he remembered that Sarah reached the boundary of the graveyard, she seemed to almost sizzle, and the smiling face took on a terrible scowl, before turning away and quickly making its escape. He told them as much.

"Hmm, interesting...it must be because this is Hallowed ground." Dr. Hemlock pondered. "Well, best we get our forces ready." He reached into one of his bag of bones and pulled out a skeleton, which neatly folded itself up and activated, screaming. Much to everyone's surprise, not only was the skeleton screaming, but it burst into a bright, blue holy fire, it's screams even louder than usual. "Oh...I forgot...this is Hallowed ground. Oh well!"

---

The "S.F.S. OPOSSUM" chugged along down the maze, the banner of the "Resplendent Dragon Inn" waving proudly in the breeze. For once, the posse knew peace as they journeyed to the circus. As Dr. Hemlock guided the boat, the deck was alive with conversation. Mariah paused, eyeing the abominations before her. She had seen similar creatures before in her time with the Red Sect. While it was certainly possible for certain living bokkors to channel the power of the petro loa into their mortal frames for a brief moment, it was a much rarer event for a petro to outright possess a corpse, soul and all. It was just so...interesting. She had never had the chance to really study one of these poor, cursed creatures, and now she had two as traveling companions! "What's it like being possessed by a demon?" She asked, in a way so casual it seemed as if she was asking what the weather would be tomorrow.

Dr. Hemlock remained silent, as John looked at her, baffled. "What are you talking about? I was brought back by the spirit of my Venerable Great-Great Grandfather." Hemlock, let out a dry laugh, "It's a Demon, John. 100%, you are possessed by a demon."

John ignored Hemlock, who he knew was still sour about his own poor relationship with his Grandfather. "You shut the fuck up Hemlock. You should show your Grandfather some respect!"

"It's not my Grandfather..."

Mariah cut-off the growing feud, "So, what's it like? What happens when you sleep? I bet you have a lot of nightmares."

John turned back to Mariah "Well...actually yes. It is fine, mostly Grandfather just advises me. Usually he advises I kill people, but that is him just testing my strength of spirit in this evil world."

A dark voice echoed through John's head "...What?"

Mariah cocked an eyebrow, "That sounds...pretty evil."

Dr. Hemlock chimed in, "Possessed by a demon. Not a grandfather." Even Blue-Rooster offered his tribal wisdom "John, you are a walking abomination possessed by a Manitou."

John, attacked from all sides, glowered angrily, shouting "You all suck so much! Grandfather is a noble and righteous man!" as he stormed off down to the engine room below. John squatted in the dark room, lit only by the flickering, eldritch fire of the Ghost Rock burning in the engine. John took out his bottle of good alcohol, he stared at it, annoyed and let down. His attempt to make Ghost Rot had failed, and the sheer emptiness of drinking the tasteless liquid gnawed at him. His companions mocked his grandfather, the very being who gave him life, and he didn't even have the consolation of a stiff drink to drown out his troubles. John stared at the ghost rock as it burned, swirling vapors and moans filling the space around the vent. Suddenly, dark inspiration struck the inveterate alcoholic. Lacing his whiskey with the meager, loose powder from the docks was not enough, but what made Ghost Rock special was not its physical form, but its energy. His eyes widened, and though his pupils refused to dilate, excitement spread its way across his sallow, pale face. He set his bottle right in front of the engine, and returned to his position, squatting in the darkness, staring intently and silently at the bottle, as ghostly trails swirled around it...

Back on the deck, Captain Dr. Hemlock continued piloting the Oppusum. Things seemed calm, and the demon within his head was quiet for the first time in hours. The peace unnerved him, something was off. Something had to be off. He looked around. There was Blue-Rooster, smoking his pipe and occasionally giving a hacking, cough that left flecks of red on his arm. It was good to see he was healing so well. "Mariah", or whatever her true name was, was there, toying with her charms and gris-gris. Kim was skipping stones into the bay as Chris was alternated between checking his ammunition and eyeing the horizon...

"How long has John been gone?" An edge of panic seeped into his voice. "OH SHIT!" Without a second thought, and completely forgetting he was the only proficient pilot, he let go of the wheel and leaped for the stairwell. The rest of the posse slowly reacted in confusion as he flung himself down the starewell. He scanned the room, looking for the dumb, drunk, and damned cuss. He didn't see John, but what he did see was the bottle of fine whiskey, resting gently in front of the grate to the steam-engine, irradiating in the essence of damned souls. He knew it. That unceasingly idiotic fool of a chinaman was trying to make Ghost Rot, and he was going to kill them all. Before he could reach the bottle, a fierce turning force nearly threw him to the ground. Up on the deck was pure chaos. The sheep had nearly keeled over, and was fast about to slam into the Maze wall. Chris had lept for the wheel, trying in vain to keep the ship from crashing, as Kim and Mariah struggled to say upright, screaming for Hemlock. Blue-Rooster had turned into a sparrow, content to watch the scene unfold below from the safety of the sky, and happy to avoid the suicidal antics of his posse. For the briefest of hate-filled moments, Hemlock stared at the bottle which seemed almost glued to its position, before shaking his head and rushing back up the steps to the take the wheel. Chris gladly traded places, as Hemlock rapidly restored the course of the ship, narrowly avoiding the cliff face.

Rage flooded his pale face, invisible behind the mask he wore. He wouldn't leave his position, but he'd be damned if he would let that Kung-Fu wielding corpse would kill them all in a drunken frenzy. "Someone better get that bottle from John! He's going to kill us all if we don't get it!"

"Don't worry, I've got it!" Mariah beamed, full of a completely unjustified confidence. She was not entirely sure why Dr. Hemlock was so obsessed with John's bottle, but she was determined to get it nonetheless. She had the power of the rada loas behind her, and her own not inconsiderable wit. She stepped into the darkness below. Below deck, all she saw was the dimly-lit figure of John standing in the room. He turned and smiled at her. "Hello Mushi! How are you?"

"Hey Wu! Hey...do you have any alcohol? I'd love to have some!"

"Why of, course Mushi! Please, have some." With lightning speed, he whipped out a finely-engraved porcelain tea cup on a small platter and handed it to her. With equal agility, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured her a cup's worth. Mariah smiled at her extraordinary interpersonal skills. John smiled at the cunningness of his plan. He had hidden his bottle of good whiskey, and instead pulled out his cheap stuff. Some sacrifices must be made. He was honestly pleased to share a drink with a companion. It was one of the highest honors John Wu knew. It had become even more important since alcohol had not only been his dearest joy, but now it was vital to his illusion of being amongst the living. Better to stink like a drunk than roadkill. Briefly lost in thought, he returned to see Mariah lifting the cup up to her mouth, and then quickly spilling the drink over her shoulder. John felt his jaw drop so low it almost came unhinged. He lived most of life in Shan Fan, a city more in China than America. If the average Westerner was vengeful over slights, the average American more-so, the Easterners were a thousand-times worse. He had lived in a city where a single offense could cost the not only offender his life but his entire family, gang, or school. His Master Pei Mei, back in the Home Country, had once slain an temple simply because a monk had refused to return his bow. He had seen one of his mother's girls beat a man to within an inch of his life simply because he had insulted her appearance. His mother had ordered Uncle Kim to heal him, solely so she could beat him herself. He had seen many things, and been insulted many times, killed and been killed, but he had never been so grossly offended as to have a gift so carelessly thrown away. He had only the utmost respect for Mushis up to this point, and was torn by the many feelings, including murderous hate, confusion, rage, and betrayal flashing through him.

Isabeau had promised the loa long ago she would not taint her body with poison, even during her dark past. Accepting the proffered cup, she felt she could quickly spill it over her shoulder with Wu none-the-wiser. "Wow, that's some good stuff Wu!" She laid it on extra thick. Gone was the cheerful Chinaman, instead, she looked into a face that was caught somewhere between aghast, horrified, and blank. His mouth simply hung open. John had had fairly normal eyes for an Oriental, but this time they seemed alight with wrath. For ten painfully long seconds she stared into his face. She felt guilty, and not a little bit scared. "Uhh, John...Uhh...I'm sorry!" She reached quickly into her bag...it has to be here...Ah! "Here, please take this!" She proffered a bottle of fine, aged, red wine, ordered from France itself. She never drank from this, but it had value for rituals, cooking, and the odd bribery. He reached out his hand and numbly grabbed the battle from her. His face barely moved as he spoke "...Thank you, Mushi."

"Well, alright then! See you Wu!" She quickly made her way upstairs, feeling though she had defused the worst of the tensions, she did not want to hang around him any longer. She exhaled heavily...

"Did you get the bottle?"

Merde"...Uhh...no. I gave him a bottle of wine..."

"GOD DAMNIT!" They were almost at Dragonhold, but he still had to dock the boat.

"Don't worry, I've got it!" Uncle Kim did his best to calm Hemlock's fraying nerves. In truth, he just really wanted to try drink John had made. "It must be the good stuff," he thought.

Down in the hold, John had completely forgotten about the incident with Mushi as he stared at the Whiskey bottle within his hand. "Do you think it will work, Grandfather?"

The familiar, slow growl answered him, "NEEDS MORE." John felt his attention drawn to the ghost rock within the engine. It was so close. All he had to do was take it. He felt fate itself calling out to him to reach into the boiler and finally grant himself the gift of taste...that sweet, delightful burning sensation that so warmed him. Shaking his head, he realized how foolish such a thought was. He would potentially ruin the entire ship and their journey, and they were limited in Ghost Rock anyway. No, his wonderful plan had failed, Grandfather himself had told him as much. He wouldn't be able to taste his drink, no matter how fine it was. He slumped in defeat. Back to duck blood infusions Just as John was preparing to return to the deck, he saw Uncle Kim approaching.

"Hello John! I hear you've got the good stuff!"

John was briefly taken aback, then smiled and pulled out his cup and bottle. "Of course Uncle! Here." Though he could not enjoy his drink, at least his Uncle would find some succor.

Kim took the proffered cup and sipped at it gently. As the liquid touched his lips and flowed down his gullet, a wonderful sensation flowed threw him. He felt his blood rush, almost whispering to him how extraordinary the flavor was. Anything was possible with this drink. It was truly wonderful. It was truly the good stuff, and he needed more.

"Hey! This really is the good stuff!"

John saw the amazed reaction of Uncle Kim, and in that moment realized how wrong he had been. His idea had worked, he had made Ghost Rot! Snatching the bottle out of Uncle's hands, he quickly hid it within his pack. He left for the deck, Uncle Kim trailing behind him, asking for more of the wonderful drink, both missing the slinking figure of Chris, and walked right into the anger-filled mask of Dr. Hemlock.

"Give me the Ghost-Rot John."

"Alright, alright Dr. Hemlock. Here you go." John handed him the bottle of whiskey.

Hemlock smiled. "Ah, thanks John! Really." He took the bottle, and smashed it on the deck, "NOW GIVE ME THE GHOST-ROT JOHN!"

John Wu stared. His plan had fallen apart. Not only had he been caught, but his precious whiskey had been wasted entirely by that locust-spewing necromancer, and now he was coming for his precious Ghost Rot. John was not sure what he would do now, but he whatever happened, he wouldn't give it up. He was going to taste again, no matter what cost.

"You don't understand! You don't enjoy things Hemlock, you never did! I enjoyed things! I enjoyed living! I enjoyed eating, and drinking, and feeling! I just want to be drunk again!"

"Not my problem John! That stuff is evil, and you're going to kill us all if you drink it!"

"It's fine with me! I am strong, it will never how power over me. I just want to taste!"

"It doesn't matter how strong you think you are, it'll take over one day and you'll kill us all or we'll have to kill you! You saw what happened with those soldiers! We had to kill them all!"

Everyone felt the tension building to a terrible climax, both like snakes tensed for the strike. Just as Chris' hands reached to take the bottle from John's pack, a strange glaze came over Isabeau's eyes. John felt an alien force moving himself, as his arm reached into his pack and took out the precious bottle. As he handed it over to a confused Hemlock, John cried out, "Grandfather, is that you?!"

A pained voice screamed back at him "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Hemlock accepted the bottle, "...Thank you, John?" He smashed the second bottle. Uncle Kim gave a shocked cry. Hemlock had glanced around, and noticed the familiar glaze which crossed over "Mariah's" eyes. John then turned and frog-marched himself to his room. John was confused, and mad, unsure of what had just happened. He was steaming, all his companions had conspired to stop him from simply enjoying himself...

"Kill them John...don't let this stand...kill them now."

John heard the oft-mentioned counsel of Grandfather, this time in new light. Still, he disagreed.

"No Grandfather...they are just fools. They do not understand how strong we are, that we will not give in to such things. We still need them."

"No John, we don't. Kill them."

John breathed in deeply, something he had not done for a while. "No Grandfather...We will show them. We will show them how strong we are, and when this is done, then we will have our Ghost Rot and taste again!"

"Hnnngh..." came the dismal grunt.

The door to his room opened, and in came Hemlock. His earlier look of anger had been replaced by an almost consoling-yet-stern elder look. He sat down across from John.

"Look...Wu. You've got to understand. You're a danger to us all when you have this stuff."

The Posse rests/hunts down Genjia/the Sneak Attack and Long Battle/the Cave/The Glyph/To Dragonhold/John wants a Drink/a Circus!/Marie's Plan/John's Plan-a Rude Awakening/Marie's Plan goes to Pot/A Deal with the Devil/A Race to the Dragon-Duel with Dynamite/The Final Battle/Who needs Ghost Rot when you've got souls?

Adventure 18:

Separation and Departure/New Rooster (Red Jay)/Hemlock Awakens/Journey to Gamorrah/Another Deadland/A Battle with Sutton Thacker/Uncle Kim Will Live Forever (in our hearts)/Digging through the Manor/Battle with the Caretaker/The Manitous That Ride Across the Sky

John knelt down beside the bloody, pierced, and dead Korean and yanked the corpse up by the lapels. He started slapping the ruined face. "Uncle Kim! Wake Up! Wake Up! You Korean Dog! You stupid son-of-a-bitch...WAKE UP!" With every slap, blood splattered and brain matter oozed out the rents in Kim's skull. Sadness was welling up in him, he felt a pressure in his head, as if the tears drowning his soul were seeking some release into the world. John dropped Kim's body and looked to the surviving posse. "BURN IT ALL TO THE GROUND. WE'RE GIVEN UNCLE A PROPER BURIAL! FUCK YOUR MANSION!"

Session 19: John Dies