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.

In the Hunt: Showdown 1896 release, our Variant terminology was simplified. We have updated it here.

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Springfield 1866

SPRINGFIELD 1866. (See also, RIFLES) A breech-loading rifle bearing an extractor and .50-70 caliber centerfire cartridge, the Springfield 1866 was oft praised for its rapid rate of fire. The design originated when the army modernized many thousands of Civil War-era muskets for the use of American soldiers, a highly pragmatic step in the evolution of the weapon.

The Springfield's speed and efficacy was particularly notable in several battles between U.S. soldiers and the Lakota, Northern Cheyenne, and Northern Arapaho tribes during Red Cloud's War, when a small number of U.S. troops armed with Springfield 1866 rifles were able to defeat a large attacking force with few casualties. However, it was sometimes criticized for its weaker extractor mechanism.

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Letter found in the possession of -REDACTED-
Undated
1/6

Got some answers for you today. Writing it down for you now before I forget any of the details, though I won't get to post it until next week. Was camped last night with Thomas and playing it low. Some people just like to hear their own lips flapping. Don't need any encouragement but silence. So we're sitting around the fire and he starts up. Told the whole story about the brothers.

"We weren't always allowed to hunt in threes, you know," he said. "That was all thanks to those brothers." Our own third was asleep already.

"Which brothers?" I asked him, knowing damn well which brothers.

"You never heard the story?" He paused to spit into the fire. Settled himself into his seat to tell the tale. Didn't even let me answer before he started talking again.

"It was always two before. Two Hunters per contract. I don't know why. It was just what you did. You could hunt alone too, sure, if you had a death wish. Still can. But two was the usual number. Only one person to trust, and if you could trust them, you had an extra set of eyes on your back. Got to be a lot of superstitions about why it was that way. There was all that talk about the oath of two, and mirrors, and some sort of curse, and then that story about the twins. Well. I don't know what was true and what was tale, but it just wasn't done. Then these three show up and just ignore the rule. Just started hunting together."

He stopped speaking to stare into the fire, remembering and silent and eyes far away. "They did alright at first. Pulled off more than a few successful contracts. Made more than a few enemies. People thought it was unfair, but most were too superstitious about the number three to do the same. Thought something might happen to them if they did. Rightly so, as it turned out. Whatever those brothers unleashed, they took the brunt of it, and we've been able to hunt in threes since. They were ripe for the asylum by the end of it, too. Before the end one of them bought a horse and painted the damn thing green. Said it was for good luck."

He paused, shaking his head at the memory.

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Letter found in the possession of -REDACTED-
Undated
2/6

Up to that point in the story I hadn't said a thing. Everybody had heard about the green horse. Subtle as a dead pig. Horse even seemed immune, and I've told you what all the other horses around here look like; half dead and moaning and screaming, drawing those nightmare creatures right to you soon as they get going. Maybe it was magic, what do I know. Ha! Oh you know I don't mean it. I know there's a sight of strangeness in this world, but there isn't any magic. If there was we wouldn't be in the mess.

Thomas was clearly enjoying himself in the telling. That damn bear face perched on his head like a hat. I could have punched him. Instead I asked him to tell me more about the others, get him talking again.

He says, "Those three couldn't have been more different. The one with the horse was a crack shot, favored an old army-issue Springfield trapdoor. Could shoot the vest off a minister. The tall one, he was a good Hunter. Told a good tale and stayed away from the bottle. Wouldn't trust him with my mother's life, but as far as Hunters go he was what passes for good stock among us."

He paused to take a long sip from the bottle he'd been cradling in his lap. Guess he didn't think that much of sobriety after all. Didn't offer me a damn drop. I was getting impatient, but he got back to it soon enough.

"Third brother was a gambler. Lost ten dollars to him at cards once while the others just looked on and laughed. He didn't need it, but he took it from me all the same. But that was before things got really bad. Weren't nobody laughing by the end of it, nope. Not even about the green horse."

Springfield 1866 Marksman

SPRINGFIELD 1866 MARKSMAN. (See also, RIFLES) The original Springfield 1866 is a breech-loading rifle bearing an extractor and .50-70 caliber centerfire cartridge. The marksman model of this rifle adds a scope to the original design, making it more useful for long-range shots.

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Letter found in the possession of -REDACTED-
Undated
4/6

He pulled the bear head lower over his face, as if it could protect him from the memory. We sat in silence a while. I thought he'd fallen asleep and was thinking to do the same when he started to whisper.

"Light the shadow though dark my way, light the shadow, light the shadow." That's what I think he was muttering at least. There was more—couldn't make out all he was saying. Maybe some kind of prayer. Maybe some kind of curse. I grabbed the bottle out of his hand finally, wanting a taste myself, and losing hold of that bottle shook him right out of it. Hell-bound sot.

"The others kept right on hunting," he said, “and it seemed like nothing else was going to happen. They always took a third, to fill in for the brother. And the third died, more often than not. They went through a lot of them, but they were piling up the bounties, and it started to seem like those two couldn't be killed. Not many would go near them after that. Figured them for cursed, and you didn't know if it was the kind of curse that might end up on your own head if you got too close. But some were saying the oath had been broken. A sacrifice had been made, and now three could hunt. Hard to say for sure. You ask me though, it happened later. You ask me, it wasn't just possible cause the brother'd died, it was possible because their third always died."

He cleared his throat. "They started to get this look about them. Wild-like. Dangerous. Less human. You'd think with what we have to deal with out in those swamps, Hunters wouldn't be so easy to trick into seeing monsters in every shadowed corner. But it's the other way around. After you see those things in the swamps you start seeing them everywhere."

Springfield 1866 Dumdum Ammo

RN: Thomas Bridges was known as a teller of tall tales, most based on his life. Out on the mountain, there isn't much else to do but spin yarn. But The Three Brothers has more of the qualities of a fable, or allegory. Perhaps set around the time most started to hunt in threes.

Springfield 1866 Shorty

SPRINGFIELD 1866 SHORTY. (See also, RIFLES) The original Springfield 1866 is a breech-loading rifle bearing an extractor and .50-70 caliber centerfire cartridge. The compact model of this rifle has a shortened barrel and sawn-off stock, making it more wieldy at the expense of accuracy and range.

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Letter found in the possession of -REDACTED-
Undated
3/6

"That damn green horse wasn't so funny anymore when it had its intestines wrapped around its neck. The green paint and all that red blood—looked like the Devil's Christmas tree. Horrible sight to see and the body of the brother it belonged to tied to its back with the rest of the entrails. Hard to say what killed either of them. Don't think it could have been human, but it didn't look like what those other creatures do to the Hunters out in the swamps. And I know because I found him myself."

Thomas stopped and took another long drink, just muttering to himself. Had to nudge him out of it with a tap of my boot. He didn't look so happy anymore to be telling the tale. The look in his eyes is what made me believe him. Not easy to fake, that haunted look.

Then he says, "Horse looked like it was no more than a sack of skin, barely hurt otherwise. Man looked like he'd been through the thresher. Most of his clothes had been torn away, and he was all blue and purple with bruises, and covered with a thousand tiny cuts. Body was recognizable, but there wasn't much left of his face. Limbs were hanging off all wrong. My partner and I'd found him out by the edge of the tree line and called in the other two brothers quick. They didn't show much of a reaction, just looked at each other for a long time, and nodded, and then sent us off for shovels. They buried him right there. Him and the horse. They were pretty upset that his rifle was gone, the Springfield, but I would've been more upset about his face being gone, were it my brother."

Springfield 1866 Striker

SPRINGFIELD 1866 STRIKER. (See also, RIFLES) The original Springfield 1866 is a breech-loading rifle bearing an extractor and .50-70 caliber centerfire cartridge. As is the case with most weapons referred to as compact, the barrel has been shortened to make it easier to carry and handle. The addition of a knife to the firearm in place of a bayonet began as a field modification, but became popular enough as to have been imitated during the weapon's production. This knife can be used to great effect both in light and heavy melee combat situations, and its reputation as a reliable striking instrument gave it its name.

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Letter found in the possession of -REDACTED-
Undated
5/6

His eyes were wild and getting wilder now as he spoke, his words coming faster. "I shouldn't have gotten mixed up with them I know, I know it now and I knew it then, but I was desperate, and then got word back from Colorado that the ranch had burned and Lorie and Janice were gone to Jesus and well about then I started to feel like nothing much I did mattered any more, like I might as well make a deal with the devil, if it would keep me in drink. If it could help me forget."

I asked him what the hell he was on about, what the hell he thought was so bad he regretted it any more than all the rest. I've seen him take the lives of a dozen Hunters and ask about dinner after. He's calm and he gets the job done and he doesn't have an emotion on him. Now he was coming apart right in front of me. I guess the confessional will do that to you. I don't envy those priests their jobs any.

"I took a job with the brothers! Not to hunt with them—otherwise I wouldn't be here talking to you, none of their thirds ever survived, see?—but I did other jobs for them. I didn't care that there might be a curse or that they were looking stranger and stranger. I didn't care what anybody had to say about it. They were offering a hell of a lot of bonds for the work, and my people were dead. What I've seen in the swamps is unnatural, but what I saw those two do was worse."

I leaned in close then, nodding. Hoping he'd keep it together long enough to confirm whether the rumors we'd heard are true. When he finally looked up and started to talk I barely recognized him, his face was twisted up with desperation and regret.

Our sleeping companion's snores stopped all of a sudden, and he yelped, groaned, and rolled over. I wondered what we would see if we could step into his dreams.

Springfield 1866 Poison Ammo

RN: Bridge seemed to know the brothers intimately, be at their beck and call. Hardly the gruff man from the mountains, but much more vulnerable here. Was it really Bridgers, or was this a version of the man poisoned by the bayou?

Springfield 1866 Bullseye

SPRINGFIELD 1866 Bullseye. (See also, RIFLES) The original Springfield 1866 is a breech-loading rifle bearing an extractor and .50-70 caliber centerfire cartridge. This model both shortens the barrel and adds a scope to the original design, making it an easy-to-carry sniper's fire arm, favored by game hunters who prefer to travel light.

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Letter found in the possession of -REDACTED-
Undated
6/6

Turns out we were wrong about them having killed each other. Turned out we were wrong about a lot of things. He tells me, "They were the ones who did that to the brother and the horse. That damn green horse." He started to really cry, then.

Took a lot of encouragement and two more bottles to get the rest of the story out of him. He was incoherent for a while and then all of a sudden he just snapped out of it, like the guy who'd been sitting there crying had left and been replaced with somebody else. Couldn't rightly say if it was the same man sitting there in front of me. Same man I've been hunting with, sure, but not the same man who'd just been crying over a dead horse. His confession came pouring out all at once, barely a breath between words.

"They didn't say it straight out, but I helped them do it to others. Every third. Every single third! Said they were trying to break the oath. But it didn't make any sense. They must have wanted something more than to be able to hunt with three men together to do what they did to their brother, and the others, but they never told me just what it was. Every time was worse than the last. I started to think they weren't even human, couldn't be human. Don't rightly know if I'm human anymore, after the things they asked me to do. Worst thing is, I did it willingly."

According to Thomas, it went like this. Those brothers were asking him to do stranger and stranger things, and he didn't mind, for a while. They kept him in drink, and the drink kept the memories away. Then there was the incident with the Springfield and the mayor that you told me about.

So he goes to visit them in their rooms one day, and the place was piled with mutilated corpses—right up to the damn ceiling!—and cards scattered everywhere, and that drunk Rodgers among the dead, and those two brothers just sitting there, talking. Thomas must've had a soft spot for Rodgers. It's always something that seems small that sends a man over the edge, but really it's just the last thing atop a huge steaming heap of dung. Been so drunk himself at the time, though, he hadn't run right out. Had stood there wondering if his drink'd been poisoned and he was having visions. Has stood there wondering if he was the one'd lost his mind. Says he doesn't remember much more about the night, but in the morning he left for New Orleans.

He says he thinks they're still hunting—must be if the oath of three still holds—but I wouldn't take his word for it. I don't think this explains jack about why the trinities suddenly got going without a hitch, but there you have it. The whole tale. Might find some answers in there, you look for them hard enough.

Springfield 1866 Explosive Ammo

RN: Perhaps a testament to its truthfulness is the way in which Bridge has inserted himself into the tale. He seems a scared bystander, out of his depth. Unusual for a man who claimed to have walked the depths of Crater Lake (some 1900 feet).

Springfield 1866 High Velocity Ammo

RN: The different pictures Billy and Thomas paint of the same people are strikingly at odds. While Thomas reveals much about the brothers, Billy appears keen to unveil only more of himself.

Springfield 1866 Bayonet

SPRINGFIELD 1866 BAYONET (See also, RIFLES) A breech-loading rifle bearing an extractor and .50-70 caliber centerfire cartridge, the Springfield 1866 became a truly well-rounded weapon with the addition of a bayonet. Combining the rifle's rate of fire with a close-quarters bayonet allowed the Springfield to paint a bloody swathe through the continent's history.

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Letter, final page, though preceding pages are unaccounted for
Letter found in the possession of -REDACTED-
Undated

The number of folk willing to discuss the matter is dwindling, which means extra care needs to be taken in studying this account. It also means my rates are doubled.

Gentleman, lover, and warrior is how Billy introduced himself, before delaying his story to ask a passing escort if she'd like to pay him for sex. She moved on and tried to make as little eye contact as possible.

"Tried to recruit me so they did, after the incident with the horse. I was sitting right at that table over yonder, and they walked in that very door. Place went dead quiet, 'cept for me and the lady nibblin' my ear. I'm usually very attentive you understand, but that dame had a way with words!" His uproarious laughter was not shared. “No, first thing I noticed was two Springfield rifles in me face: one shortened with a gnarled knife affixed, another with a full blood-rusted bayonet."

That detail struck me, as it matched other stories I'd accrued. Perhaps this buffoon spoke with some credibility after all.

"So I orders another drink, as is my right, and I size 'em up. For all the tales, they're not much to look at." A charismatic chuckle wormed its way from his mouth, but I'd heard many a story, and I've heard this man's true laugh just before. That chuckle was haunted.

"They tell me I can either come with them dead or alive and...well, as you can see, I didn't go dead. Matter of fact, someone hands me my fresh drink. I finally broke their eye contact so I can hoist that beauty to me lips. I swig the drink in one gulp and draw my pistol quicker than they can see, then fire it quicker than they can react."

He wove a striking story, but it was once again interrupted by an attempt to seduce another working lady. She elbowed him with a movement perfectly honed to look like an accident, and it was too late in the night for him to notice anyway. I'd thought it was difficult to witness Thomas be made a blubbering mess by his memory of the brothers, but it turned my stomach thrice as much to watch Billy weave a relaxed, practiced tale just to hide that same, ruinous terror.

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