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.

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Specter 1882

SPECTER 1882. (See also, SHOTGUN, SPECTER ARMS CO.) The Specter was the very first bottom-loading, pump-action shotgun. It was named not for its stealth, as would be a misnomer, but for the man who invented it. Marlin Specter was a successful engineer and inventor. To his name are accredited the inventions of the first automatic lathe, an innovative sewing machine, and a steam-powered carriage. However, his passion always lay in firearms, having learned the trade while working for Caldwell. His success with repeating rifles led him to create the Specter Repeating Rifle Co., which then became the Specter Arms Company in 1882, producer of the Specter shotgun.

The Specter 1882 was a very popular shotgun and was manufactured from 1882 to 1890. It uses a slide mechanism that loads shells from a tube-shaped magazine. The pump removes a shell from the magazine and inserts it into the chamber. Empty shells are ejected from the top of the receiver. However, it is difficult to reload while cartridges remain in the magazine—ideally all five shots must be spent before reloading. Because the barrel has no rifling, its accuracy is sub-par, its range medium, and its recoil strong.

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Journal of William Salter
Severe water damage; reconstructed by archivist
Unlined paper, 3x5 in.
2/10

Must be June still. Near July. Don't know the date. Been in this cabin for a couple of weeks now at least. Lose track of time easy. When did I leave the asylum? Made the mistake of reading more of Huff's papers.

Should have burned them. The nightmares come during the daytime now. Nightmares about what I've read. Nightmares about what I've seen. About whatever it was Huff injected me with. I found my own file, and I barely recognize the man they describe: dysphoric mood, aggression, grandiose behavior, violent, and they even purport to know the nature of my familial relationships!

So many lies. If they knew the first thing of my family, they would be afraid, afraid that Charlie heard I was held. I feel sad to think of all the lies, lined up so neatly in the doctors' reports. What they would have done to me if I hadn't run?

Yes, I admit there have been episodes. I regret the yelling and carrying on that got me taken in, but it doesn't make me wrong or violent or crazy. Beef wilted malt worms! I am heir to a FORTUNE! I am assembling an army to defeat the forces of DARKNESS! What do these doctors know about it? Angry again. That anger-heat rises to my face same way as drink. Walking should set me right. Then it's back to work. Focus, Salter, FOCUS.

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Journal of William Salter
Severe water damage; reconstructed by archivist
Unlined paper, 3x5 in.
3/10

Mr. Trevors has refused to sell me ammunition on credit! He is infuriating, but no dullard, and I will admit he was correct—I had no intention of returning to pay my bill. But I know how to earn money quickly, and in my desperate state I fell back on what I know. What matter if heaven or hell awaits me? The gates of hell open into this world now, and vomit forth their grisly ilk be we sinners or saints.

But I appear to have offended Trevors greatly in both my appearance and the passion of my response, and even when I returned with the proper funds he turned me away. Perhaps he suspected my sudden change of fortune was not wholly honorable. Perhaps he is an elf-skinned pignut. I suppose only his wife will ever know.

With no further recourse, I used the last of my funds to place an order with Roebuck for the necessary ammunition. This will delay my progress, but I have mastered the assembly of the Specter, and with nothing to do but wait, my mind begins to wander. I dream of bullets penetrating flesh, but in these daydreams it is not a creature I hunt, but Philip Huff.

Specter 1882 Flechette

RN: Salter's transformation was one of the slowest. We suppose that this was due to his long having lived in the area, that somehow it had granted him some kind of immunity. Note, this immunity was only enough to stretch the process from days to weeks, its end nevertheless inevitable.

Specter 1882 Shorty

SPECTER 1882 SHORTY. (See also, SAWN-OFF SHOTGUNS) Following the breakdown of the United States Army contract, Merlin Specter pursued other avenues to profit from his invention. Observing the popularity of sawn-off shotguns throughout the commercial market, as well as among law enforcement in the growing cities, he worked on a compact adaption of the Specter 1882. Originally the idea of shortening the pump action was also toyed with, though in the end this proved to be unfeasible. Instead, the barrel and stock were simply shortened and removed, respectively. Following this, trials proved that the action was awkward to work without reinforcing the butt of the shotgun against the shoulder. To compensate for this, anyone issued these firearms in the field added an improvised foregrip.

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Journal of William Salter
Severe water damage; reconstructed by archivist
Unlined paper, 3x5 in.
4/10

June ?

The swamp reeks. More nightmares, and a waking hell around me when my eyes are open. First noticed walking home from Trevors. It was a smell like rotting flesh, and the people hollow sacks of meat and blood, already rotting, already rotten. I walked down the street as if among corpses. Is this how it begins? I have been in this cabin too long, out among the flies.

June ?

My skin crawls; my heart races. I fear to open the door or near the window. I was woken by a knock at the door late last night, or so I believe. I am ashamed to admit that I cowered beside my cot, praying only that the intruder would depart. The knocking grew louder, and I resolved to get my revolver, which I had left on the small table near both door and window. Fearing that any sign of my presence would attract further unwanted attentions, I stayed low to the ground, crawling across the wooden floorboards. As I reached the table, the knocking stopped. So suddenly it stopped! The silence was immediate. I heard no footsteps on the veranda and could find no proof that anyone, or anything, had neared the cabin. The forest was still. I begin, not for the first time, to wonder if the doctors were correct in their assessment of the state of my mind.

Specter 1882 Dragon Breath

RN: Like so much else that was lost, studying his physiology would greatly enhance our capability to fight the Sculptor, should we become aware of it again. In my weaker moments I find myself wishing it would show itself to us once again...

Specter 1882 Bayonet

SPECTER 1882 BAYONET. (See also, SPECTER 1882) Impressed with the high rate of fire enabled by this pump-action shotgun, the United States Army made a tentative order of Specter 1882s in 1884. However, this order came with several conditions. Concerned that the pump action was not properly field tested, they requested that their order was made additionally sturdy and with a bayonet attachment. Marlin Specter took offence at this, and initially refused to fulfill the order. In a letter to his factory foreman, he described the request as "ludicrous," and stated that the Specter was already the most effective short-range firearm available. Attaching a bayonet was a completely unnecessary addition, akin to "pulling a train with a horse." Once this letter had circulated, he nevertheless chose to fulfill the order. It was rumored that his thumb had covered a zero digit on the original purchase order, and in fact the payment offered would have been more than satisfactory. Shortly after delivering all 500 shotguns, a copy of the letter made its way into the hands of the General who had signed the purchase order. This ensured no further business was offered to Specter.

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Journal of William Salter
Severe water damage; reconstructed by archivist
Unlined paper, 3x5 in.
5/10

It happened again today. I awoke in the forest, with no memory of how I had come to be in that place. There were bits of fur around my mouth, blood stains down my shirt. My knife still untouched on my belt. The taste of blood was in my mouth—there was blood in my mouth—and I was both enthralled and disgusted. I licked it from my lips, first thrilled, then needing to vomit. I walked for several hours before I found the cabin. The last thing I remember is setting out for town yesterday evening, hoping to obtain credit from the butcher for some meat—though I knew my chances were grim. I look a sight—the sores fester—and with no money to speak of. I thought, perhaps, I could sell the pistol, or make a trade. I am constantly hungry, but find no fullness in the small game I catch in the forest. I do not know the day, though it must by now be July.

Specter 1882 Penny Shot Ammo

RN: Did Monroe know of Salter when he made his break? Unlikely. He never looked for him. But would I look for someone I'd been committed with? Perhaps they avoided each other. It's certain that Monroe didn't meet the same grizzly fate, but his success never quite outstripped his reputation.

Specter 1882 Slug

RN: We tried to trace the journal Salter must have taken from the asylum, but the task was impossible. His scant description of the landscape matched nothing that we could find.

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