<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/20/Christian_Bale_Cowboy_3.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Christian Specter<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4th<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside Casino Morongo<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Margeurite, Nathan Hunter, Elisabeth, Open<br/><hr/><br/><em><strong>“Margeurite – get her to a doctor. Then get her to a priest.”</strong></em><br/><br/>The man, Deputy Hunter by the look of him, said that right as he dodged around Christian approaching the commotion of the gruesome scene before them. It was horrendous, with blood, entrails, and body parts strewn about the street and alley as if it were some butcher’s shop. Women and men alike were turning in disgust or losing their suppers on the sides of buildings from the sight. It was the worst thing they had ever seen.<br/><br/>Christian had seen worse.<br/><br/>Sad as it was to say it, trouble had found its way into Christian’s life so often that some might have said he had waded through pools of blood and seen more corpses than any undertaker. Christian did not so much as swallow when he surveyed the terrors that lay in that street. Those cold, ice-blue eyes did narrow when he saw Elizabeth, gravely wounded yet alive. He could worry over injuries later, right now, he needed to make sure people, especially Elisabeth, got to safety.<br/><br/>The woman, that he assumed was named Margeurite, was covering her with a sheet by the time he saw her, though given the situation her naked form would have been back on the list of priorities. Right now, the deputy had nailed the truth of it: whatever had done this was still out there. Knowing that, Christian spun “Doc” in his left hand cocking the lever action single-handed and drew “Reaper” with the other.<br/><br/>“Ma’am,” Christian spoke softly to Margeurite, though the gravelly roughness still broke through his tone, “I’ll escort the two of ya to the doctor, then the priest.” He cursed the fool of a deputy for running off under his breath however. Hunting that thing alone was a quick way to an appointment with a gravedigger.<br/><br/>He was wearing nice clothing, well nice clothing for Christian Specter. His blue shirt, his church shirt he called it, was the only one he owned without a few holes in it. His trousers were equally unremarkable, tan and simple with a decent mend to them. He had left his famous black duster at Agatha Dunwich’s residence where he called home for the time being. The well cared for Stetson was still atop his head, however, and it bobbed as Christian nodded to Elisabeth.<br/><br/>“This nice lady and I are gonna get ya some help,” he gave her a hard stare, his frozen eyes narrowing, “you’re gonna be fine, ya understand me?”<br/><br/>Finally, Christian turned to the still gathered crowd, “You all need to get to yer homes and lock the doors.” When he still received blank stares and quizzical looks he slowly cocked the hammer back on “Reaper,” the easily recognized engraving on the side shinning in the lamp and moon light,<br/><br/>“Now,” he said with a finality and harshness that might shake a man to his core.<br/>