<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f4/Brian-taylor-gunslinger.jpg)</div><strong>Hunter:</strong>Jesse, the Summoned Dark.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>The usual.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Vortex campsite to the the RV camp.<br/><strong>Current Action:</strong>Following spilt blood and footprints.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jesse is all on his lonesome right now.<br/><hr/><br/>The crown broke and flowed around him, a tide of white bodies rushing around a black rock. Despite the fact the mob was all but stampeding away in blind terror, shoving, tugging, pushing and jostling each other, no one dared to cross his path. Every one of them veering away from him at the last second as though repelled by an irresistible force. For his part the stranger seemed to pay the crowd no heed at all. To be sure he noticed the splattered blood across the white robes of some of them, but none of them seemed to type to spill it, not from what he could see anyways.<br/><br/>As quickly as they had appeared the wild eyed mob was gone, their shouts and screams and trampled footsteps are all that was left of them. The stranger simply followed their trail the other way. Whatever had made them run was at the start. That was what lead him to the tent. Everything seemed quiet, but he flicked his coat back, right hand hovering over the butt of his revolver as he walked inside. The air was thick with the smell of copper and iron and sickly sweet edge of death. The footsteps told him this was where the stampede had started and on stage was the source of that smell. A male pale in death, lying in a pool of blood, all of his blood in fact. The stranger had seen men bleed out before, he knew how much there was and this was all of it. The stranger nudging him over with a flick of his boot. The wound in the chest told the man had been killed by a single massive blow to the chest that no human could have delivered. There was a chance to claim an eye for an eye here, to sate the ancient cry of vengeance, to feed. Jesse crouched down and lifted a limp wrist. Soft hands, manicured nails, signs of jewellery in the tan, but no jewellery itself. If he hadn't stunk of blood and death, the man might have reeked of privilege and wealth. It wasn't much, but it was something.<br/><br/>The Stranger walked outside, looking around for a fancy vehicle. The RV stuck out like a sore thumb and he walked over to it, flicking his frock coat back over his weapon now he was sure he was alone.<br/>There was a dog, at least it looked like a dog. Didn't seem to be acting quite like one and Jesse knew looking like something and being it weren't the same thing at all. His hand was back over his holster in an instant, his eyes narrowing, body tense, ready to fight, but the dog just snarled at him, or perhaps it was a grin and then turned and ran into the forest.<br/><br/>"Oh no. The hell you say." Jesse muttered and drawing his pistol and placing his other hand on his hat he began to run after it, the tails of his frock coat lifting and flicking this way and that. He couldn't keep up with the dog, but he could pick out the trail of its paws in the soft mud and he ran without effort or fatigue after it. In the distance he could see a wagons park and that was where the trail seemed to be leading. As he drew closer Jesse began to listen out for any sounds of commotion or struggle. He doubted that the dog was going to play nice somehow. Sure enough a scream told him where to go and he headed straight for it arriving into a group of people, none of whom particularly interested him at that moment, and aimed his gun right at the dog he'd been trailing through the woods.<br/><br/>"Alright, you had your fun. That's enough. Back the hell off or I will end you." He snarled, his finger curled around the trigger. He was pretty sure this was a case of looking like and being not being the same thing, it which case he was going to end it anyway, but he'd rather not do it in front of so many witnesses.