These stories first appeared in Hunt's Book of Weapons, an in-game collection of found documents curated by an unknown researcher. They are replicated here in their original format. This means that many of the stories are not presented chronologically, or in one grouping, and it is left to the reader to put together the puzzle pieces and determine to what extent they contain fact, fiction, or fable.

Prior to the launch of Hunt: Showdown 1896, this weapon was named the Winfield M1876 Centennial. Our Variant terminology was also simplified. We have updated the names where relevant, but you may still see the more period accurate names within the lore texts.

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Centennial

WINFIELD M1876 CENTENNIAL. (See also, WINFIELD, RIFLES) The Winfield M1876 Centennial was so named for its debut at the 1876 Centennial International Exposition, the first World's Fair and a celebration of the United States' first century in existence. What could have been more American, therefore, than for Winfield to mark the occasion by releasing a higher caliber variant of their iconic repeating rifle. With significantly more stopping power than its predecessor, this became a favored rifle amongst big-game hunters.

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Interviewee: William Carter
Topic: Local folklores
Single sheets. Typewritten transcription. 8 x 11 in.
1/5

Now many of my fine tales are those of my own but many of my finest tales are those of dear friends, retold while supping broth and passing a flask of whiskey around the fire. And the finest of those stories was told to me on such a night as this, when a light snow flurry graced us with its presence, and the flakes were turning to drops before us and hissing on the coals. So this isn't my story, but another's, and that's the story of the hunt for the last wildcat.

Two women in my company, Ethyl and Jana, were travelling with me in the shows early days as we traipsed up and down the East Coast. That year, I remember we marveled at the forests of New England, bustled through New York and Philadelphia, and sweated through the Carolinas, and then at the end of summer, were held up in Virginia. In Richmond, an unsettled debt had caught up to me, and I couldn't pay wages. So, for some time, the show came to halt. They were understanding, but many left not to return.

Ethyl and her sister Jana tried what they could to get together a few dollars to get us all on the road again. They had a sick mother at home, see, and had to send a little money each month. Now, they had had one stroke of good fortune: in Philadelphia, we'd performed at the Centennial Exhibition, and taken sponsorship from one Mr. Winfield to shoot his new Model 1876. So they wrote to his company again, and some kind secretary offered them a bit of money to tour the hunting towns of Virginia and make a show of the rifle.

So I forlornly said goodbye to them for a brief while, and they set out with not much else than their wits, a pair M1876s and their famous trusty six-shooters. They went from town to town, drawn deeper into the ancient bower of ponderous woodland and marsh that had once formed the first frontier. Though now enclosed with roads and towns, that place harbored many mysteries much older than our own young country.

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Interviewee: William Carter
Topic: Local folklores
Single sheets. Typewritten transcription. 8 x 11 in.
2/5

Ethyl and Jana visited all the bigger towns, Harrisonburg, Lynchburg, Roanoake, and so on, performing their shooting tricks. They spun and fanned their Winfields, shooting pennies clear out the air, plucking the stems from apples, and piercing the hearts out of playing cards. But that weren't all they did to make their mark, as where the season permitted, they hunted bears, elk, and boars. Mr. Winfield was delighted as mail orders came in from across the state, and he dispatched a courier to take them a message, as a particular opportunity had arisen.

Deep in the Monongahela Forest, a small town by the name of Marlinton had made its name in the national press. Marlinton was a town as old as they come, the first town founded west of the Appalachians, by a man called Marlin and another called Sewell. Shortly after founding the town, the two had quarreled badly, and the story went that Sewell went out to live in a nearby hollow sycamore tree. What a tree that must have been. I can't rightly picture it. Marlin found him soon after, killed him there, and left him to rot in the roots. The town took Marlin's name, but soon misfortune befell it. The townspeople figured that Sewell's spirit was cursing them, so they began leaving gifts in the tree hollow to placate him, and the town had better fortune.

Marlinton had made it into the press, though, as a particularly gruesome gift had been found in the tree. Now people normally left little offerings of food and drink, nothing too precious. But then, something had begun leaving different offerings, mice and birds and so on, their necks snapped. And over time the offerings had grown bigger: stoats, ferrets, cats, goats, and finally a dog. The wounds to these poor creatures only grew more savage: skin shorn off, limbs torn asunder, heads lolling at the base of the trees.

That was enough to spook people, so one man volunteered to keep watch over the tree, and catch the culprit. He weren't seen back in town for a while, and when they returned to the tree, they found him doubled over, lifeless and stuffed into the hollow trunk. His wounds were such that the people concluded that they could of only been caused by a wild cat, toying with its prey. So the put out a call, for someone to help them with their problem.

Centennial Poison Ammo

RN: It seems the rural and wild areas of our country are prime to breed not just the monsters of these tales, but the tellers the accounts far and wide. Carter appears to be the latter, though it's possible that he and his associates were often the former—the monsters.

Centennial Shorty

WINFIELD M1876 CENTENNIAL SHORTY. (See also, WINFIELD, RIFLES) The growing popularity of the Winfield M1876 throughout the country brought a wide range of users who desired more flexible versions of the rifle. Some took an increased recoil to be a worthwhile trade-off for this flexibility.

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Clipping from the New Orleans True Crescent
Author: Unknown
Newsprint, 4 x 8 in.

A most peculiar show by William Carter's company. I had heard tell of their marvelous feats from my extensive network of academic peers around the country, but none quite prepared me for the spectacle I witnessed this weekend.

Carter sells himself—and has been sold to me by friends—as a rambunctious and extraordinary showman, yet the man I witnessed seemed entirely different from the proud performer on the posters all around town. He and his tales both reeked of sorrow, and he took up no gun in his own gun show, which I might allege to be false advertisement.

The show itself was pedestrian. I fancy that I myself could shoot a penny out of the air (I have certainly seen the trick done enough times) and it seemed like something of a ramshackle set of showmen without much coordination. They seemed to please the rabble-rousers and children in the audience, at least.

It was the ending of the show that truly arrested me. As the final applause rolled on for longer than what was deserved, a pair of outlaws, armed to the teeth, stormed through the entrance and screeched Carter's name with violence greater than any pistol shot heard previous. A silence immediately grasped the crowd until the pair fired their guns into the air, and everybody scattered in terror.

Centennial Dumdum Ammo

RN: Carter was known for his skill in turning rumors into sagas, trading on stories people had heard whispers of to make his tall tales seem believable.

Centennial FMJ Ammo

RN: Reference to such a hunt taking place was not directly found in historical papers of the area, though similar stories dot the country. Does that mean that Carter was stretching the truth, or rather that there was a reason the story wasn't published?

Centennial Sniper

WINFIELD M1876 CENTENNIAL SNIPER (See also, WINFIELD, RIFLES) After the Winfield M1876 Centennial's stunning debut at the 1876 Centennial International Exposition, the rifle soon became a firm favorite among Hunters. Its increased stopping power over lighter repeating rifles made it ideal for big game hunting. To capitalize on this, the rifle was later sold with fixed hunting scope, a variant which proved even more popular.

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Topic: Local folklores
Single sheets. Typewritten transcription. 8 x 11 in.

At the time, there were half a dozen other Wild West Shows approaching our size. We were bigger than ever, the money was good, and the competition fierce. And things got bad after that, we lost a lot of good performers.

I told you about Ethyl and Jana already. Then Jane, well. We developed a double act, her and me, and performed it for a year and one day. It was a hit. It went this way: We plucked a story out of thin air, the time Jane chased me down to set me straight. We set up a series of obstacles she would chase me through, and all the while we'd be shooting at each other, dramatically just missing every time, panes of glass shattering, and barrels of water sprung with leaks to mark how close we'd come to death.

There were some greater feats too. I would shoot a rope Jane was climbing, she would cause something to fall in my way, and when I thought I was home free she'd shoot the nut off a wagon wheel so it collapsed.

Jane always used a Centennial, I trust you remember her prior association with that gun? This had a scope attached, to catch a dazzling light, and she would hardly break a stride when the ring of her gunshot was followed with a crescendo, the crash and bang of something falling apart. Always pursuing relentlessly. It was pulse-racing, and the danger of it delighted the crowd.

The finale featured me trapped, cornered at last. I would raise my six shooter and fire a final time, the audiences holding their breath, only to hear the empty click of an empty cylinder. Except for one year and one day after our first performance. I raised my gun, and Jane her rifle, but there was no hollow click to relieve the audience. Instead, the terrible ring of gunshot, and Jane's groans as she collapsed.

Centennial Shorty Silencer

WINFIELD M1876 CENTENNIAL SHORTY SILENCER. (See also, WINFIELD, RIFLES) Once the rifle is reduced in size, a suppressor attachment makes the Winfield M1876 both dynamic and quiet. It's well suited for hunting multiple creatures in a small area with speed and subtlety, but requires some deft handling.

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Letter on rough paper, very worn
Author: Unknown
Handwritten, 8.5 x 14 in.

April 2, 1889

We're out of food. In case I die, tell my sister Jo Barnes that I'm sorry. I never thought I was until I stared death in the face with a parched throat and empty stomach. Wish I at least knew what I was dying for.

By way of explanation, I work for William Carter's gun show. On my third performance, two ruffians who knew Carter came charging in with guns blazing and we all ran for cover. Didn't see my shooting partner, but Will says that if he ain't here, he's dead. Frankly, death in exchange for not being in this metal box is getting more tempting with each breath. Not sure what Will had this box for, but there was a couple Centennial rifles and a skeleton inside, so I'm too scared to ask. Took the rifle, of course.

Not sure what we're waiting for. It seems like we'd stand a good chance in a fight: three of us against two of them. But Will said he'd shoot me if I so much as talked, even attached a silencer to his rifle so that he could do it without giving away his location.

I'm near out of the ink I had tucked away. I want to know what these two were so angry about that they'd wait us out for two whole nights. We heard them patrolling above us just an hour or three ago.

April 3, 1889

Will says to get ready to sneak out all quiet-like and see if we can catch them by surprise. That being said, I take back my apology, Jo, you thieving sack of cattle shit.

Centennial Trauma

WINFIELD M1876 CENTENNIAL TRAUMA. (See also, WINFIELD, RIFLES) As the original Winfield M1876 Centennial's reputation quickly grew in the same year it was introduced to the market, many firearms enthusiasts and hunters discovered its potential in terms of modifications and attachments. Although many preferred professional solutions such as scopes, others relied on makeshift modifications to make this already-versatile rifle more effective in certain situations. This particular version of the rifle features a reinforced stock that delivers a hit as heavy and deadly as a sledgehammer, making it viable in melee combat.

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Journal of Candice Rouille
Handwritten, leather-bound, 4" x 6"

July 15, 1894

Another suspicious murder, and another crime scene without a clue. I wonder why they assigned me to this case, why didn't they ask Jack? He is the "Hawkshaw" after all. But I will not be disheartened. This alleged "New York Ripper" will eventually leave a trace behind, and I will be waiting for him.

July 27, 1894

Jack visited me today, asked about the case reports I was glancing at—a disemboweled woman with a crosscut on the spine, nothing pointing at the murderer; a dead end I must admit. No wonder they gave it to the only woman in the office. Bastards. But Jack was supportive. He said I deserved better than an impossible case and mentioned a cross-states investigation of which the details he refused to disclose until I agreed to join him, and as expected, I did.

We are to leave next week and arrive in DeSalle, Louisiana to investigate a so-called association involved in, well, a lot. I can hardly wait to leave, I will finally prove I'm as capable as others, if not more.

August 11, 1894

Jack is missing. He said he would head to the Saloon, that he needed to clear his mind after the shootout. But today I learned that no one in the Saloon had seen him, or knew of his whereabouts. I am worried something bad happened. But Hardin didn't seem concerned whatsoever, he continued attaching a clamp to his Centennial's stock, and looked at me dismissively. Said us city types would come and go. He's been suspicious of us since day one, and Jack's disappearance made it even worse. I don't understand, we're helping him with the cases he's been struggling with. Is it envy I see in his eyes? Or maybe he knows why we're here. I feel we will know soon enough.

August 24, 1894

Something terrible is happening in Pelican Island Prison. Gunshots heard on the island yesterday. I telegrammed New York to ask if I could investigate but was ordered to leave the matter to the local law, in other words to Hardin. He insisted I stayed out of it, but I didn't back down. He saw I wouldn't quit. Maybe he's seen something in me, or I earned his trust, because he gave me what he swore he didn't have: A contact at the AHA. I reckon I will need to continue the investigation alone. I must go deeper into this so-called association.

Centennial High Velocity Ammo

RN: An uncharacteristic melancholy in Carter, according to this reviewer. Likely as much a performance as both Carter's show and stories.

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