Devil's Night

Devil's Night, Deadlands Reloaded
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GUIDE TO OLD MEXICO
Special Travel Edition
Vol. 1, No 1.
Sunday, May 23, 1880
Requires Deadlands
& the Savage Worlds
Horror Companion
D
EADLANDS
: T
HE
W
EIRD
W
EST
Devil’s Night
B
y
S
hane
L
acy
h
enSLey
Credits & Acknowledgements
A
dditionAl
M
AteriAl
:
C
lint
B
laCk
,
M
atthew
C
utter
, P
iotr
k
orys
d
eAdlAnds
B
rAnd
M
AnAger
:
M
atthew
C
utter
C
over
A
rt
:
r
iChard
P
ollard
i
nterior
A
rt
:
J
ordan
P
eaCoCk
and
a
lBerto
F
roChe
d
eAdlAnds
r
eloAded
l
Ayout
And
g
rAphiC
d
esign
:
a
aron
a
Cevedo
, t
ravis
a
nderson
, s
iMon
l
uCas
;
d
evil

s
n
ight
l
Ayout
:
s
hane
h
ensley
D
eaDlanDs
C
reateD
by
s
hane
l
aCy
h
ensley
This document may be printed for personal use.
It may not be distributed, either electronically or in print.
WWW.PEGINC.COM
Savage Worlds
,
Deadlands: the Weird West
, and all unique characters, creatures,
and locations herein are ©, Great White Games, DBA Pinnacle Entertainment
Group.
II
Devil’s Night
Doctor Herbert Langston knew
something about ore. In the steel mills
of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, he created
a machine that could extract ghost rock
from even the crudest raw materials.
The machine—he called it “the
reducer”—worked well for almost two
weeks. But on the 13th day it suffered a
spectacular and catastrophic explosion
that killed 17 workers and maimed
dozens more.
Langston gathered the only other
thing he’d ever cared about, his daughter
Daphne, and led town. The pair didn’t
stop running until they reached Wichita,
Kansas. With the last of their savings,
he bought an old house and a junkyard
that used to belong to the Black River
Railroad.
There Langston began to rebuild the
reducer. In weeks he had a prototype and
caught the attention of representatives
from Dixie Rails. One of their most
esteemed scientists promised to visit,
evaluate the machine, and—Langston
hoped—offer him a hefty sum for the
design. Perhaps he would even offer
Langston a chance to orchestrate the
building of multiple reducers across the
Confederacy.
The morning of the visit, Langston
rose, ate a hearty breakfast, and walked
outside—eager for the arrival of the
representative from Dixie Rails.
Instead, he found his house and the
giant reducer in his backyard had been
vandalized by the local children.
It was a disaster. Crude insults about
the “carpetbagger” and his daughter
were painted on the sides of the reducer
and even his house. Rotten vegetables,
spoiled fruit, and smashed eggs were
everywhere. Langston began to scream
and go into a rage. Daphne attempted
to comfort him but the mad scientist
slapped her in blind anger.
Langston’s horror at his own reaction
only worsened when he saw the Dixie
Rails carriage had arrived. His guest had
witnessed the entire event—Langston’s
rage, the humiliation at the hands of
local children, and striking his own
daughter—the one “creation” he always
believed he’d gotten right.
The representative sighed, shook his
head, and left.
Shortly thereafter, Daphne left as well.
Langston silently packed her bags, put
her on a train, and watched her steam off
to her aunt in Pittsburgh.
Langston went back to his lonely
home. This wasn’t his fault, the voices in
his head whispered. It was those rotten
children. The ones who’d destroyed his
dreams on Devil’s Night.
3
D
EADLANDS
: T
HE
W
EIRD
W
EST
Soon after, Little Jimmy Peck, the
ringleader of the teens who had
vandalized Langston’s house, was out at
the Hangin’ Tree with his two rowdies
planning their mischief for Devil’s
Night—just two nights away.
From out of the darkness came the
thunder of hooves and iron wheels, and
the unearthly laugh of the coachman!
The boys led in all directions but
the Coachman was too fast. The next
morning, the comatose forms of Peck
and two of his cronies lay sprawled
along the prairie.
Their relatives gathered the boys
and took them to their homes, but the
local sawbones couldn’t explain their
condition.
Das Ebon Schleier
Langston wanted revenge. Science had
betrayed him, but the old house he’d
purchased once belonged to someone
named Cooper Whateley. Whateley
had left in a hurry, it seems, or perhaps
just vanished, because his belongings
remained in the house when Dr.
Langston bought it from the county.
In one of the many assortments of
macabre collections was an old and
dusty book called
Das Ebon Schleier,
or
The Ebon Veil,
written by a German
sorcerer named Johannes Goetz.
Inside this blood-stained grimoire
was forbidden lore concerning the
summoning and control of demons.
Over the course of the year, Langston
collected the components the book
claimed he needed to call “The Black
Coachman.” On Friday, October 29th,
he was successful in his ritual and the
creature arrived at 13 minutes past
midnight.
The Setup
This adventure takes place on the
outskirts of Wichita, Kansas, but can
be placed anywhere the Marshal is so
inclined to move it.
The posse has arrived at the Dead
Horse Road House on the outskirts of
4
D
EVIL

S
N
IGHT
Wichita the morning after the attack at
the Hangin’ Tree. As they enter, Doctor
Reg Palmer, sawbones from Wichita, has
just come from the Peck house. He sees
the heroes and, on a hunch, asks them
for help.
it was chased ‘em in all directions but
none of ‘em got very far.
The Pony Express rider found ‘em all
face-down in the grass this morning as
he was ridin’ through. They’re all alive—
but in a kinda coma or somethin’. I’ve
never seen anything like it. Nothin’ at all.
And I was at the Battle of Washington
and the Cauldron.
They’re all pale and cold—like they’ve
had the life sucked right out of ‘em but
ain’t dead yet. I have little doubt they
will be soon though if I can’t get to the
bottom of this. Will you help?
Doc Palmer won’t pay—he’s doing a
favor being out this far already—but he
does have something he picked up at
the Battle of the Cauldron, a cross worn
by Father Pedro Valdez. Father Valdez
fell in the service of Dixie Rails fending
off some unnatural horror unleashed
by Bayou Vermillion. Palmer took his
cruciix and could swear that ever since
You look like folks who’ve seen a little
trouble and maybe igured out how to
deal with it. Well, these folks out here
have got some. If you’re inclined to help,
I’ve got three boys lyin’ lifeless in their
beds because o’ somethin’ that happened
last night. Somethin’ I can’t rightly
explain.
Assuming Doc Palmer isn’t turned
away, he continues.
There’s a group o’ kids who—frankly—
ain’t exactly pillars o’ the earth ‘round
here, but don’t deserve what happened
to ‘em just the same. Best I can tell they
was meetin’ up at the ol’ Hangin’ Tree
when something attacked ‘em. Whatever
5
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