Part 27: Witness the fate of the Neckebards
READ THIS FIRST
The river rafting video may look like it's recorded poorly or working incorrectly. Wrong. This is what the game actually looks like. Also, keep in mind that there was quite a delay between what was happening on my screen and what Der Metzgermeister was seeing on his. This was somewhat intentional in the regard that we didn't try to fix it. Also, I'm playing the game blind while Metz gives me directions. It's in the fiction.
So, with no further ado...
November 24th, 1848
Hounded by soldiers and with no time to spare, the two remaining Neckebards, Cyrus and his water-phobic daughter, are forced to make a dangerous decision.
Sarah Jane, we can't wait any longer. We can't afford to run into any more reinforcements and I can't see straight any more. I need to depend on you...
It was true; Cyrus had taken such a beating at the hands of a british soldier that his face was terribly bruised and blood was clouding his vision. He'd be steering the wagon blind down the river. They would have to rely on Sarah Jane to steer despite her desperate fear of running water.
Pa, I can't! I CAN'T!
Sarah Jane fell to her knees and sobbed. The trauma of the last few days had been too much for the poor girl, now surrounded by doom from all directions. Cyrus kneeled down next to her and put his arm over her shoulder.
Shhhh... it's ok, Sarah Jane. Listen... I'll steer the wagon, ok? But I can't do it alone. I need you. I need you to navigate, can you do that?
What's navuhgatin', pa?
Just tell me whether to go left or right if you see any rocks coming up. That's all you have to do. We can finish this... together.
Sarah Jane sniffled. Cyrus helped her to her feet. They made their way to the wagon; a few hours later they would be ready to float it down the Columbia.
Cyrus strained to put the stagecoach to water. With a deep groan, the wagon lifted off the bank and was quickly caught up in the river rapids!
EXTREME FICTION-BREAKING AHEAD. DEAL WITH IT.
Get the YouTube backup HERE: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bm6s8fJ1v6M
As the wagon slammed into the unforgiving shore of Willamette Valley, Cyrus was launched through the air and landed in a pile at the shore. He lay there, dazed, unmoving, until the world stopped spinning around him. He could tell that the wagon had been smashed into useless rubble. The meager remains of his life washed in and out on the shoreline, his family utterly gone.
But he was alive, somehow.
Slowly, with great force of will, Cyrus pulled himself to his feet. Memories of the trip flashed behind his eyes and he realized that now, standing here alone, everything that was once important to him was no longer so. The journey to Oregon had been an insane ride, but it was a chapter in Cyrus' life that was now over.
Cyrus grabbed two shattered boards that were floating near the water's edge and used a frayed piece of rope to tie them into a cross. He staked it into the ground nearby and wrote "Neckebard" across the front.
He thought of them, his family, and wept.
Download the (easier to read) flash movie HERE
One of the oxen walked by. It had survived the journey down the Columbia river, and Cyrus grabbed its mangy hide, pulling himself to his feet. It was the strong, reliable ox that had always guided his family through the worst the trail had to offer. He remembered a joke Susan had told him about naming this one Oxford and smiled as he distractedly pat the beast on the side.
Cyrus pondered his options. Now he could start over. He could find a wife in Oregon and make a new life and a new family. He could have that dream he wanted and children of his own. He could forget his past, his pains and troubles, the british spies and the waffle incident. Oh, how he would love to forget that.
But something was missing. In the several months on the trail he had come to a realization. This wasn't the life he wanted. He wanted adventure. He wanted to freely roam the country. He wanted to live alongside Susan and Waffles and even Baby. Oh, and Sarah Jane. He wanted... revenge.
Cyrus noticed a rifle that had been flung at his feet. Not far away was a large cache of ammunition- despite everything some live rounds from all the way back in Boston had found their way to this muddy patch of Oregon. He strapped the rifle over his shoulder and tucked a few rounds into his pants.
C'mon, Oxford. We got work to do.
Cyrus and Oxford would go on to have many more adventures across the American countryside.
But that's another story.
...take us out, Der Metzgermeister.