And so our intrepid band of misfits were on their way to Salina, to solve the mystery of the missing weapons, a mission your narrator believed was somewhat lesser than The Posse was capable of, but irregardless, here we were. I had orders from a mysterious negro in a suit to contact Agent Cutter via telegraph once we arrived.

There wasn’t much chit chat on the journey, despite this author’s constant attempts at the contrary. My gift of the gab appears to be a curse upon my present company.
Our awkward silences were not to last however, as we reached the outskirts of the bustling metropolis that is Salina, we cam across a group of grey coated men suspiciously milling about the railroad tracks. Seeing a potential opportunity to write some copy for the Epitaph, not to mention out of my own curiosity, and that of Dr. Bell’s I might add, I approached them.

Needless to say we had stumbled across a sabotage bid by those rascals at Dixie Rails against their competitors at Union Blue, and to say they were not happy to see us is somewhat of an understatement. So, of course a melee ensued.

Our sharpshooters, Reginald Snipes and Tornado Tess hung back to offer support as the rest of the party engaged our new enemies. Our motley collective proved to be as formidable as I was led to believe, with our resident killing machines making short work of those Dixie Rail folk, and despite the sudden appearance of a surprise whirlwind, went as well as could be expected, despite our celestial friend finding himself on the receiving end of some Confederate justice.

Having seen off the last of those cowardly sons of bitches, we investigated the scene and discovered a suspect device; an explosive pressure pad bolted to the tracks for purposes of sabotage. Our scientist, Dr. Bell was able to disarm the device and remove the explosive material and what appeared to be some of that fascinating ghost rock. After this little skirmish we were free to enter Salina, unmolested.

Once we were in the town proper, we were able to find lodgings at the Salina Royale Hotel and I was free to attend the Post Office to telegraph Agent Cutter. As we went about our daily routines, we heard tell of strange goings on around the town. Stagecoaches and wagons on their way into, and out of Salina were disappearing. The consensus, and also the opinion of Dr. Bell (my companion for the day), was that bandits were to blame, but word was quickly spreading that ghostly apparitions were the true culprits. The unquiet dead of nearby battlefields had apparently been witnessed by some out-of-towners and many citizens take the existence of these wraiths as a given.

Upon telegraphing Agent Cutter of our arrival I received a package from him with the schematics of the stagecoach containing the weapons that had gone missing, just outside Salina as a matter of fact. Dr. Bell and I took these schematics to the Broken Horse Saloon where the rest of The Posse were imbibing their numerous vices. Also present were the aforementioned visitors who had witnessed these alleged manifestations. But my chance to interview them was sidelined by a fracas involving Johnny Lee Harker and a card game. He accused a fellow player of cheating, and you can guess, my dear readers, where it goes from here. Let’s just say more than harsh words were exchanged.

But of course, the law became involved in our little “misunderstanding” in the saloon, and now we were all heading down to the Sheriff’s Office. We had some explaining to do…

Greetings dear reader, it is I, your judicious and perceptive narrator, E. Rutherford Rhodes, and do I have a story for you. A story of danger, intrigue and those eldritch horrors one does not dare even contemplate in their more quieter hours. A story of a group of mismatched adventurers who journeyed to the brink of the known universe, and perhaps their own sanity, to return to see the world through different eyes.

We begin with your humble narrator chained to a group of ruffians and outlaws on a stagecoach bound for the Kansas State Penitentiary.

To my left there was the quiet and aloof Cal Hancock, a man who’s reserve must disguise a ferocity of which this author does not want to be on the receiving end.

Beside him, the celestial gunslinger Chiang Kai-Lao the master of an alien art of fighting of which I am as unfamiliar as I am wary.

To my right, the enigmatic Johnny Lee Harker, a man who has a darkness about him which gives your loving narrator the vapors.

Next to him, Reginald Snipes. A man of distinguished breeding who shares with me a love of the mysterious and the profane. Though his first instinct is to shoot it, which leaves much to be desired.

And sitting on the other side of the coach, chained together, were the two roses of this here thorn bush. Two gentlewomen as diverse in nature as the men were numerous.

What can one say about Tornado Tess? A woman with a more mannish countenance this narrator has never seen. A rough and ready tomboy who’s life spark is a breath of fresh air amongst us dour folk.

And finally, the beautiful and intelligent Dr. Clementine Bell. A scientist and investigator who’s skills are unmatched amongst the fairer sex, at least as far as this author is concerned.

But what were we all doing chained together en route to prison? I knew a few of us must have been criminals, but for the others, your narrator included, the very idea of breaking the law was anathema to us.

All became clearer when the coach came to a stop and we disembarked, to be greeted by a mysterious man in a well trimmed suit, who identified himself to us as one Agent Henry Cutter. Agent Cutter had a deal for us all. A deal he thought would be foolish of us to refuse.

Presenting us all with wanted posters each adorned with our likenesses, some real, but others faked (including that of your innocent narrator) Agent Cutter presented us with what those legal types would refer to as an ultimatum. Retrieve for him and his surreptitious “Agency” some stolen weapons from Colorado, or face prison time on existing warrants or trumped up charges (for this author, it was definitely the latter).

Having agreed to Agent Cutter’s terms under pain of incarceration, or the sense of adventure as far as your intrepid narrator was concerned, this rag-tag group of misfits sallied forth in the direction of Colorado. Our fates both intertwined and uncertain…

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.