Drakeshot

Steam whistled as it escaped the top of the engine rolling from the station, spooking a few horses carrying heavy loads upon wagons. The cobbles of this street were quite loose, often coming out of place when the soldiers mustered. A clumsy sailor fell from his raft, spooking some large sucker fish in the stream across the fence. Even the tiniest wooden shops towered high above the young man and his dog. The friendly blacksmith was now a fierce competitor and that barber, well don’t insult a man who cuts for a living! Tucked between these two in a dark obscure alley was the tiniest stand, with the thinnest paper banner that ripped after the first spring breeze of the morning.

“Guns and ammunition for all demons, devils and dragons” It would have read in it’s prime. A colorful Cherokee blanket was stretched tightly over a lopsided table with three long legs and one short leg so it wobbled whenever Atlas barked at nearby stray cats. 

“Good morning sir!” The vendor belted as he awoke to see a fur-clad man carrying a dagger “Do you have run-ins with horned serpents whilst out hunting?, I sure do!, I bet you could use my-” but the man’s head did not turn to face William. A few hours passed and the young man’s stomach began to growl as did Atlas’s. The sun hoisted higher and higher into the sky and after more wind, his banner fell, lost in the dust. Despite the noise of the street, the yelps of children, and the whistles from that locomotive, his head drooped. Hours passed and soon his head was flat upon the blanket.

“Not a confident salesman…”  a soldier in a tall hat and covered head to toe in blue “Falling asleep on his product”

“No father…” the red-head murmured between snores “This is a very good career.”

“Ahem!” the bearded military man loudly faux-coughed into his hand covered in an ivory-white glove. Sluggish, the vendor craned his head and blinked his murky eyes.

“General!” He exclaimed standing up and saluting “Come to supply your troops?”

“Yes…” Muttered the general rolling his eyes picking up a long musket with a barrel like a corkscrew “Because I want my troops hitting the ground instead of Johnny Reb”

“Oh!” chirped William "That’s not for men, general”

“Well…” he declared shouldering the gun and sorting through it’s six scopes, each a different color glass  “you’d hit everything but a buck with this piece!”

“A whitetail, yes sir” informed the seller picking up a box of ammunition “but you’d never miss a fire-buck!”

“What in the goddamn-ruddy hell is a fire buck?” The rifle dropped from the gloved hands of the general and onto the table 

“A big issue with farmers, sir!” declared Willam lifting the gun “They’re quite temperamental, when they get angry, they burst into flames and burn up large swaths of crops! It shoots pellets made from Maine-snow, the barrel keeps the slush cold!”

“Boy-” snarled the general “Do you take me for a liar, what is your name?”

“I am William Feindstomper", general!" the young man belted with a bow. A solid minute passed as the general puffed his cigar and blew the white smoke into Bill’s face.

“I can see why you haven’t been snatched by the draft” hypothesized the general “Able-bodied, yes but definitely not stable-minded. But even the most damn-darn crazy fool could tell me if you’ve seen this rebel spy. I’d love to partake in your stupidity but I'm off westward to tend to some burned camps!” From the general’s hand hung a pale photo of a skinny-looking man with crooked teeth. Below was printed the name: “Atticus Franklin”, to which Bill nodded. Saying nothing but a short chortle, the general got to his horse and clopped down the streets. 

A few more hours passed and William's head slumped again. Soon enough, the rafts stopped flowing and that hissing steam locomotive blew her last whistle. Evening soon turned to dusk and thousands of silver stars cluttered the heavens. All of a sudden, atlas perked his dark ears up, followed by some barks.

“What is it boy…” Murmured the vendor, his eyes not even open. A branch cracked as it was blown from the forest and rattled across the loose cobbles. William’s head bolted upwards as his eyes peered open. His Teeth chattered as the cool breeze crept up his woolen vest. Illuminated by the full moon’s glittering glow, a little shadow appeared across the river at the very edge of the crooked wood. His eyelids opened as Atlas’s tail whipped upright. The figure loomed closer and closer to the riverbank, and as he approached it, his dingy reflection appeared on the silver ripples. William was upright as well, jamming glowing green musket balls down four large barrels of a pistol. 

“Allright sasquatch…” he boomed. “If you ever get past that river, I'll have four barrels on you!” The slowly lumbering shadow ducked into the water, and splashed silvery blue water about as he swam closer and closer.

“Odd behavior for a sasquatch…” mumbled William, slowly dropping the pistol and loading a charge into a wide barreled swivel gun “They don’t typically like water, well take this, frog man!” He loaded a harpoon down the end of the barrel as the shadowy figure emerged from the water and found it’s footing.

“Are you Willaim Feindstomper?” a voice called as the shadow ducked under the fence

“Odd way of speaking for an amphibian…” shouted William “who taught you English?”

“Oh my mother and father I assume” chortled the voice stepping forward out of the shadows “But it was quite long ago, I don’t exactly remember.”

“Friend or foe…” uttered William, looking up at the plump figure with a monocled eye that shone from the moonlit night.

“Customer!” the mysterious man chirped, dripping water and swamp grass draped over his left shoulder. “$700, I want all of your weapons!” The swivel gun’s butt fell and Willaim sat silent for a moment. Atlas sniffed his master and nudged him.

“Huzzah!” William cheered, leaping up and enthusiastically shaking the pudgy man’s hand. He grabbed each corner of the blanket and folded it up, tossing the bag into the man’s arms. He stuck out his palm expectantly “Thank you for your business! Do come again!”

“You come boy!” Chortling, the mystery man dropped the bag and brushed his hand on his pants “I require your services…”

“You’ve got my services, sir…” Uttered William 

“You misunderstand… I need you to exterminate some beasts and ghouls from my residence.”

“Certainly sir!” chirped the young man getting his dog’s leash with a grin and slinging the bright orange bag of weapons over his back. As the two clamored up a hill, William was sweating and groaning as his shoulder became sore from the weight. His other shoulder was also sore as Atlas would not stop his pulling and sniffing of the man beside him.

“Do you have a name, boy?” Asked the chubby man. 

“Certainly sir!” chirped Willam “ It’s Feindstomper, Bill Feindstomper! You?” The two had made their way down a winding path and through a crooked forest. 

“My name…” Stated the man “Is Mr. Calhoun of Moth-Manor”

“Moth manor? What a peculiar name, almost sounds like a type of winged beast, native to this state, Mothman, I have a few daggers forged with poison to stun Mothmen you know, you got a good bargain sir!”

“Hmmm” pondered Mr. Calhoun “Rather unintentional, the original owner named it after his lady friend’s name”

“A rather strange name for a lady” uttered William, hauling his barking dog away from Mr. Calhoun. 

“Yes, a strange name, but a rather pretty lady, I’ll show you her photo when we’re here- we’re here”  William gazed up, upon the side of a steep hillock was a castle-like palace of brick. The towers loomed above as the two trudged up the crooked path and through the creaky iron gates.  

“Good lord!” mumbled Willaim, his eyes open wide as he gazed down the long ornate hall. Every column was crooked and had a curly dragon grotesque upon it cast from bronze. Glowing orbs bolted to the wall limited the seemingly endless nature of the corridor. Atlas nudged the leg of his owner.

“Fire bucks!” exclaimed Mr. Calhoun “All over the manor! They tear up and burn my study, so see to it that you take care of them and follow me…” Digging through the bright bag, William pulled out the gun with the corkscrew-shaped barrel and sniffed about in the air. He had taken William’s arm and was leading him down the endless hall.

“Pardon me sir…” Enquired the young man “But I smell the burn of a fire buck down that way” The manor owner ignored him and simply opened the door to a dark room. The seam of the door was covered in plenty of locks. Slowly and one-by-one Mr. Calhoun unlocked them. Willam rushed in, shouldering his gun.

“Bang!” in the darkness, the muzzle of the gun thudded against something hard. 

“Sorry boy…” Apologized Calhoun as he searched for a key to this smaller door. This proceeded on for six more doors, every door smaller than the last, until Willaim had to crawl through. The plump Calhoun squeezed his way into the pitch black room with an eternal echo. 

“Slam!” the tiny door thudded shut.

“Mr. Calhoun?”

“Right here!” came a voice from in front of him “you must wait… they terrorize me whenever I enter this chamber when I least expect it…” Calhoun coughed and suddenly the somber room was ablaze by a blinding white-hot light. Atlas barked and yelped as William shouldered his gun. 

“Crack!” and just like that, the room went chilly and cold.

“Well done!” exclaimed Mr. Calhoun shaking the noodle-like hands of the young man who looked around, eyebrows raised.

“That’s it?” He questioned.

“That’s it!” Exclaimed Mr. Calhoun pushing him out into the hallway.

“A Fire buck doesn’t dispatch like that…” explained Willaim “There’s a big explosion like fireworks on the fou-"

“I think you mean Doe-sent!” Chortled Calhoun, dabbing at his bald forehead with a handkerchief “because, doe means female deer… Anyway boy, here is Miss Moth Addison, ain't she lovely” Wiliam was shoved in front of a hazy framed photo of a young woman in a large hat and a poofy dress. Mr. Calhoun was behind him, hand on his shoulders, shifting him forward.

“I do suppose so- Ahhhh!” the dimly lit hall yielded to dank stone as William fell down a long shaft.

“I gave you the pleasure of having soft hay to land on, boy!” chortled Calhoun wickedly, holding the gun that had fell the fire-buck. There was a yip as Atlas fell down the shaft and the trap door shut with a “clunk!” The heavy footsteps above faded away as Calhoun cackled. 

“Should have known…” bemoaned William to Atlas “7,000 dollars, what was I thinking? Now he has all of our fine stock!” His big dog whined and darted off. William followed behind calling him as the two darted down a cramped hallway.

“Atlas come!” belted the vendor “I’ve lost everything, I don’t want to lose you!” But his dog only whined as they went deeper and deeper. Soon enough, his red head was not bumping along a stony roof, he was in another spacious room, albeit plenty dark. Well, all dark until…

“Crack! Woosh!” A burst of sparks lit up the stony chamber before immediately deceasing. 

“What in tarnation…?” Another flash (a bit longer) and a scaly head illuminated and the young man leapt back. A twig snapped as he fell backwards, and the fire roared once more. A beak opened and some squid-like tentacled flopped out and tickled his legs. Silently he darted to the other side of the room. Down another corridor, the dog lead his master and up a winding set of stairs. William’s shivering had worn off as he heard a voice similar to Calhoun’s. Atlas was going wild, wagging his tail and quietly yelping. Two amber lights glowed straigh ahead, and when William put his eyes up to them, he saw the entrance hall and a much skinnier Mr. Calhoun with two pillows beside him. He was actually a rather skinny man wiith crooked teeth and a pale complexion.

“Alright boys…” he grumbled to two troops dressed head to toe in butternut and removing the monocle “Pay up, and I want the weapons for myself”

“Alright alright keep yah shirt on…” Skwaked the tall rebel to the right.

“Plus I need 100 extra, your battalion is two moths past due, using my fire bucks!”

“Ohh man..” groaned the shorter soldier reaching into a money bag “The Colonial will pitch a fit at this… but your firebucks are quite useful, Atticus. Bill leapt back and mouthed.

“Atticus?, his fire bucks?, Rebels?” There was crumbling as William fell into the room. He threw a hollowed-out deer head from himself and was surrounded by the three as his dog leapt down to him. 

“To the trap door, Atlas…” muttered William “and quickly. A musket ball shattered a column and amid the smoke from the rebel's gun, William hoisted the heavy sack and caught up to Atlas, who was dashing down the hall. William stomped on the floor before the portrait of Moth. The two clamored down the hall and into that wide open room.

“I've never done this before…” whispered William “Slaying a Snallygaster, yes but riding one?” His words awoke the mighty beast, who illuminated the room with flames. A booming roar echoed as fire came from it’s nostrils and tentacles whipped from it’s beak. William lifted Atlas to the scaly back of the creature and...

“Hyah!” they were off, the Snallygaster's tattered wings flapping into motion, and smashing through the bricks of the house amid screams from Atticus Franklin and the two rebels. The crisp wind filled the young man and his dog’s lungs and fluttered his hair. 

After a half hour of flying, day began to break. Below them, a star-spangled banner flapped in the breeze.

“Downward snallyghaster! Downward!”

“What in the godamn bloody hell have you bright into my camp boy!” belted the General “ugliest looking horse this side of the Mississippi, but why are you here, I told you you are too screwed up to enlist!”

“Atticus Franklin!” blurted Willaim pointing eastward “He’s been sending the fire bucks to destroy Union camps and food stores!”

“Franklin!” gasped a soldier.

“Why should I believe you?” Growled the general 

“Do you doubt a man who can fly a snallygaster?”

“No..” the general sighed 

“Then come on...” William rolled out his blanket and tossed his guns to troops “Atticus has many demons working for the rebels, your guns won't work on them, come with me general, I have plenty more guns for fire-bucks!” So the general, Atlas, and William leaped upon the back of the snallygaster, and with three large wing flaps, they were off! After the beast had landed in the east, William hastily unlocked his cabin.

“Franklin has a whole slew of fire bucks so you will need Hailfire carbines'' Exclaimed Willaim, handing the rifles with twisted barrels to the general “And I suppose guns for other demons wouldn’t hurt to have…” The three piled back onto the Snallygaster and flew off westward.

“Boom!” artillery fire wrang out, shot after shot amid muffled rebel yells and union chants. A forest ablaze came closer and closer as the injured beast squawked. 

“Pound them, men! Pound ‘em!” the general belted as he rolled off the slumped beast’s back. 

“You have been a faithful friend” explained Willaim placing a hand on the Snallyghaster’s beak “I thought you all were cruel and brutal birds but i was wrong…”

“Whoosh!” William felt weightless as he was swept off his feet and saw darkness surround him. Atlas was barking as he felt his whole body slam to the ground. He found his arms and legs motionless, and he was staring into two red eyes that seemed more like fire. His attacker had no real head, what little facial features he had were upon it’s upper chest. More and more winged wraiths surrounded him, like a dark tornado. But then, the winged assailants shrieked and flapped away, including the one pinning William.

“Atlas!” he exclaimed, petting his dog “With the Mothman dagger!” In Atlas’s mouth was a glowing green knife with a curvy blade. The Mothmen flew over the treetops like a thousand titanic crows. Even the injured one who dripped purple blood from his calve. The Snallyghaster had limped away, leaving a scattered bag of weapons, a large majority of which had been taken by the union troops. William shouldered a Hailfire carbine and marched towards a band of charging crimson deer. But these were halted in there tracks, as were the blue and gray and all the demons. The most beautifully haunting trumpet came from the sky from over the mountains. 

A chevron-shaped group of hundreds of emerald-green bird-type monsters with flaming breath came sailing through the sky. The firebucks trembled and the imps scurried off. As the snallyghasters came closer, they opened their maws ablaze and swept up enemy soldiers with slimy, squirming tentacles.

“Very well!” exclaimed the Union general “You git ‘em Snolkygahbasters.. Or whatever!” And from the smoldering battlefield, as Union men cheered and sang songs, this same general approached Willaim who was stroking Atlas.

“Very good job boy!” The general cheered, shaking William’s hand “I’d like to have yah in the union! You’d make a great arms manufacturer!” 

“Sorry General” William uttered heading for a landed snallygaster and loaded Atlas upon its back “Able-bodied, I am but I’m definitely not stable-minded!” After he loaded his bag of guns onto the Snallygaster, he took off into the sunset.