We are the worst saviours of the future EVER

We were heading toward Salt Lake City The City of Gloom by train - well, except we had to catch it first, and had only just missed the previous one by a day. We had to camp out and Gunney attacked by a big maggot-looking thing. Not that he knew anything about it, he was fast asleep. Its smouldering corpse was ground down to powder by Slick, who added mint and called it a fine gum, but then again, his tastebuds have become rather peculiar as of late.

We then had the idea of flying to Devil's Tower, which ultimately ended in Reynard falling out of the damned craft (it had no seatbelts, see, because those things hadn't been invented at the time) plummeting to his death. Except he's not called "Lucky" for nothing. If he HAD died, though, he would've actually become Harrowed. Alas, he's still in the world of the living ... somehow. Well, at least until the next session.

Now we're stuck in the middle of nowhere, because our method of transportation decided to crash land because it wasn't made by our Sam. Sam, in turn, had his horrible cough cured by Mary, and the black gunk in his lungs turned out to be souls ... which Slick saved some of in a jar. Like you do.