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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Nagant M1895

NAGANT M1895. (See also, REVOLVER, RUSSIAN EMPIRE) Designed by Léon Nagant, the Nagant M1895 was commissioned as a bespoke service revolver for the Russian Empire and would see use throughout the armed forces. This created relatively stringent design requirements. The Russian Empire was a vast expanse stretching across some of the most inhospitable terrains in the world. At the same time, the nation was lagging behind in terms of modernization. Manufacturing standards at the time were relatively less sophisticated in Russia than throughout the United States and Western Europe.

As a result, The Nagant M1895 proved to be a unique, albeit unconventional, single-action revolver. It proved to be durable enough to survive use in adverse conditions, and simple enough to be manufactured quickly and in staggering quantities. The cylinder is pressed flush to the barrel on firing, though this does mean that it requires unique ammunition. A major disadvantage of the weapon was that reloading was slow. Shots had to be removed individually with the ejector rod, and then loaded individually.

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Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin" Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
1/9

Pa,

The short is: I need you to front me $20 dollars for bail. I'm interred at Jefferson Parish, LA.

The long is: I took a train from San Francisco to Ogden, bad luck, the inspector decided my ticket was invalid. The next station was a nowhere town, Wells, Nevada. They turned me out.

I fell badly, landing on the piece which I had tucked into my belt, cut up my hip, a lot of blood. In town, the folk were not forthcoming with aid. Irony in that the gun which had in part caused my injury, was also the means by which I was able to get help. I'm not proud of threatening the woman, but I needed stitching up. Truth be told, I had to hope that none would call my bluff, I didn't believe the thing would fire after I'd landed on it.

The piece could take one hell of a beating. It's Russian, called a Nagant M1895. Strange bullets, tucked up inside like they were afraid to come out. I won it in a game of street craps. The owner was a Russian, a deserter, he had made across the Pacific to escape a certain death. I wouldn't say his chances of survival really increased that much.

Well, the lady finished up her work about the time a lawman arrived to tell me I wasn't welcome in Wells. And not to wait for the next train.

With nowhere to go, no money, and just a little food, there was nothing for it but following the tracks. What I was hoping for, I don't know. Towards nightfall I came to the ruin of a ranch, set in a dead gnarled orchard. The trunks bleached white. There was a dry gulch running through it, with nought but a trickle of water. Good as place as any to rest, I was lucky enough there was water.

Yours,

Russell

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Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin" Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
2/9

The next morning, I woke to find the dressing the woman had done was bad. The wound was festering, a fever setting in. The last thing I clearly remember, crawling on my belly towards the gulch, gulping what water I could.

Time passes different with such a fever. The first day, I took apart one of the strange bullets, using the gunpowder to cauterize the wound. The second, I heard a rattle of a sidewinder. Somewhere in the dirt. I held the Nagant tight. Funny a gun from wintery Russia would find itself out in the badlands, guarding a man drying out in the sun from a rattlesnake. The third day, I saw the snake. Coming toward me. I took a pot shot and it went back into the brush.

That evening, it came again, and I got it.

The fourth day, the pain in my leg showed no sign of abating. I wished I'd left the snake there, to kill me. On that I realized what a coward I was. I saw no way out my predicament.

I pushed out all but one bullet from the chamber, and spun it idly. Placed it to my temple. Pulled. Click. Next, it was the snake's turn. Spun. Pulled. Click. We went back and forth like that, me and the snake, till the gun kicked back in my hand, a puff of dust emerged from the snake. He'd eaten the bullet meant for me.

The fifth day, the pain subsided. I ate that snake, saving the skin. With the strength, I walked on. Came across the next town. Found labor, the day after, shoveling manure. Took the first train out.

Ended up here—in New Orleans. Got picked up for playing dice. So now I'm writing you from jail. I need $20 dollars for bail.

Yours,
Russell

Nagant M1895 Precision

NAGANT M1895 PRECISION. (See also, NAGANT M1895, SHARPSHOOTERS) The Nagant M1895 Precision is simply a typical single-action revolver with a sturdy leather and metal pistol stock that doubles as a holster. This allows it to be supported in the crook of the shoulder, and guarantees much greater stability, and increased accuracy.

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Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin" Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
3/9

Pa,

I've enclosed $10. Write me that you've received it.

The hunting started good. We bagged a few easy contracts. Quick money: Sick men. Alone in the swamps. Something rotten in their mind. In their flesh too. Each one, we took a hand. My Nagant has a stock that nestles into the forearm, accurate and powerful enough to pick them off—it turns out I'm a dead shot.

The other prisoners, we made one big posse. There's a huge Russian we call The Bear (who noted my gun, but says he himself prefers to only fight with fists), an old man named Pellella, and a girl from Oregon, Billy. The Sheriff led us, still wearing his badge. Things took a turn for the worse when we went out looking for a man called The Butcher. Said to be impossible to kill. Hiding in an old Slaughterhouse. Two days out. The first day, Pellella and Billy had took sixteen hands a piece. They were overflowing their packs. When we set up camp, they thought aloud about heading back to town already, having so many hands.

I woke that night with a start. Pellella and The Bear were scrabbling on the floor. Were they wrestling? When my eyes adjusted to the moonlight, I realized they were fighting, just not each other. Hands, crawling over them, clawing, strangling. The severed hands of the dead men. I felt something grip my shoulder. It was Hardin. He said they got Billy already. I saw the dead girl: bruises round her neck. Hardin passed me my pistol.

Pellella was being smothered. He was jerking around, trying to get himself free. I aimed true, and picked off the hands I could. My seventh shot, the last in the cylinder, was aimed at a hand gripping his neck, choking him out. I told him to sit still, but he still thrashed. His face blue, I pulled the trigger. It hit him in the temple. The Sheriff took no time in fanning his Pax to kill the rest, the bullets thudding into Pellella's lifeless body.

We took on a new rule: No trophies.

Yours,
Russell

Nagant M1895 Silencer

NAGANT M1895 SILENCER. (See also, NAGANT M1895, UNIQUE WEAPONS) Unique among revolvers, the Nagant M1895 can be silenced. Other revolvers have a gap between the cylinder and the barrel, meaning that when they are fired gas, and therefore sound, is expelled. This is the most significant origin of the onomatopoeic bang, such noise which a muzzle suppressor will not alleviate. When the Nagant is fired, however, the cylinder is pushed tight to the forcing cone, the opening of the barrel. The gas must instead escape through the length of the barrel, meaning that a suppressor will in fact alleviate the noise. What makes this a remarkable happenstance is that the Nagant was not designed with this in mind.

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Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin" Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
5/9

Pa,

I never did tell you how I got out jail. Sheriff made me earn it.

Second day I was there, Sheriff Hardin does his rounds. Takes me out, makes me run up and down the yard. Lift sacks of grain. Checked my teeth. Then threw me back in with my cell mate. An old fella, by the name of John Hayward. Stark crazy, on account of the climate, but a good man. In his sleep, he muttered about monsters in the swamp. And a sculptor. I considered his wife had left him for an artist.

Third night, Hardin comes to me. Offers a deal. My freedom, under conditions of his employment, no questions. Lady Luck had shined on me. Hardin took me into the yard. Chalked on the ground were concentric circles and strange patterns. Waiting round the edges were two other guards, and a handful of other prisoners.

One by one, me and other prisoners walked the circles, reciting lines Hardin told us to speak. An oath he made up. At the end, we were to drink a gulp of some brackish red liquid. The second boy hurled it up. He was taken out the yard and I heard a muffled cry. On my turn, the taste of nails, but I kept it down. There was to be a final test. I drew the short straw, I was first. A guard dragged a man by his hair out the cellblock. Threw him at my feet. In the moonlight, I saw it was John, my cell mate.

Hardin handed me a gun. My Nagant. Fixed on the end was a heavy, improvised, muzzle. He explained this was as the community didn't take kindly to gunfire after dark. I understood what was to be done. He looked up at me, the crescent moon glinting in his eyes, like a snake's.

It seems having a record of these events is in my best interest. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll lose my mind.

Yours,
Russell

Nagant M1895 Deadeye

NAGANT M1895 DEADEYE. (See also, NAGANT M1895). While unconventional, the Deadeye variant of the Nagant was a conversion with an attached telescopic scope. A rear mounted stock increases the stability of firing at range. One challenge of such an attachment is maintaining accuracy over distance with a heavy trigger pull. The degree of difference in experience becomes most pronounced in such a case. Effectively accommodating this, and achieving a smooth pull, offers a great advantage, making the Nagant a capable range weapon, though still compact. Therefore, it is for the disciplined shooter to utilize one in accordance with an unsteady weapon such as the one in question.

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Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin" Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
4/9

Pa,

Have you been receiving my letters? I haven't heard back. We took recruits to replace Pellella and Billy. They were dead soon after. The Butcher ain't a man at all. Hounds prowl the roads in packs. Swarms of locust descend from the skies and La Llorona cries at the moon.

Hardin had been getting darker in his moods. Huff turned out to be no friend at all. I shot dead a would-be assassin on the steps of our station. An old deputy. We found a letter on the body, said it was the work of Huff, and he burned the letter before I had a chance to read it. He said things have been different. Since Lynch.

By way of congratulation, so I thought, Hardin gave me his badge, and bought me a new scope, as would fit my revolver. Said I was doing a different kind of Hunt, from now on. We scouted out an old barn, overlooking a field to the east of the grounds. I was to pick off the wandering, should they stray toward the town.

I took 12 the first night. 14 the second. The nights that came after, I stopped keeping track. Just pick off the strays as they come across the field. It's been something like a month now.
I'm worried I've done something bad to warrant guard duty. Something to take his anger. Each dawn, I tip the bodies into an open pit. The Bear stays sometimes. One of the dead men broke our boundary. He laid into him with his brass knuckles, glinting in bright full moon as he pummeled the man dead again.

He took a wound though, taking this letter to town, so I don't know it'll reach you. Write to the address on other side.

Yours,
Russell

Nagant M1895 Poison Ammo

RN: Russell Chambers, most valuable for his close following of Sheriff Hardin. Did he get lost in the mud? Make it out? Following up with the father proved a dead end. Either way, he escaped his creditors, which he curiously never mentioned in the letters.

Nagant M1895 Dumdum Ammo

RN: It seems Chambers simply vanished. No further documentation of his existence can be found. In particular, Hardin's reticence to mention the man is quite curious.

Nagant M1895 High Velocity Ammo

RN: Hardin was well known after Huff died, one of many who contributed to the chaos which saw. Hunter turn on Hunter. His heart was in the right place, but that don't count for much.

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