I rode New Tex along my faint and dust blown trail in hope of finding that Indian village I saw. My leg hurt awful bad. It was a dull, throbbing pain that slid up my ankle and into my hip. I could almost feel my veins ripenin' with whatever filth that ghoul touched me with. The wound was a tawny yellow color, and I could see a strange brownness spreading out under my skin. The scratch the thing left on me was weeping foul pus.
I asked Bitchy Tex what would cure the wound, but she didn't feel like talkin' to me too much. I had to get to that village. It took a day or so of travel to get there, and my ankle was already becomin' a strange green color. I wondered if I should just cut off my leg before it got past my knee.
I got into the Indian village just before sundown. I felt like I was just about dead. I think I vomited at least once, sorry New Tex. A few men and a woman ran out to help me, as they were a gracious and welcoming people. When they got close they recoiled from me, however, because of the state I was in and probably because I had a vampire stuck to my ridin' cow. At the time I didn't quite understand, but in retrospect it makes a whole lot of sense. Of course, I was use to this sort of thing and at the time I wasn't in a very good state of mind.
Anyhow, somebody of authority came up to me and helped me off New Tex. I didn't land so good and manged to bonk my leg on the way down. A whole mess of pus slopped out of there and I screamed like a little girl. They got me laid out in a hut and tied New Tex up somewhere. I passed out about then.
Well, I came two who knows how much later with some old man lookin' over me. He seemed right interested in me. He said something I didn't understand and one of the other men in the hut grabbed me by the shoulders and stuck some bit of wood inbetween my teeth. The old man then stuck a knobby finger deep within my leg which caused me to thrash quite a bit.
You try it. It fuckin' hurts.
Anyway, after about three minutes that seemed like eight hundred years the man took his finger out and pulled with it some big ol' peice of ghoul talon (I'm not sure how I missed it, wasn't that big a scratch) that had been workin' its way around my leg. They put some sort of cream on my leg that made it feel good.
After a short while in their simple but funtional hut a new man came in wearing an ornate headdress of feathers and beads. We talked, and the man explained that only a very sacred ritual could fully cure my cursed wound, and while the tribe was happy to accomodate me they would need to test my worthines.
Of course, because my writer can think of anything at the time and the production budget could afford one of them cute little asian stuntment, this would be a ritual combat trial. I took a deep breath and accepted their challenge.
(More to come... I'm just lazy and needed to post something.)
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