<i>Hol Horse would stick to the back of the group, twirling his pistol in his hands. He whistled a vaguely American tune. The door was suspicious, but hell wasn't everything here?</i> &quot;Ain't no way someone hasn't kicked the bucket here. The only thing missing is the writing on the goddamned wall.&quot;

<i>He didn't have a torch, but there was one way to light the place up. With his gun at the ready, he'd unload fifteen, count 'em, fifteen shots into the air, all of which would curve down into the trap door, hopefully breaking through it.</i> &quot;Don't much see a need to touch somethin' brimming with evil if I can keep my distance!&quot;

<i>A man dressed in oddly western attire, puffing from his cigarette would approach this rumored church, after all, something weird was going on already, so what's a little more? Not like he hadn't already had his fill of bizarre circumstances. He could be seen lounging outside the church grounds, twirling his fingers as if he had a revolver in them.</i> &quot;Heheh! We gots ourselves a coupl'a takers, eh? No way in hell was I going in on my own!&quot;

<i>So long as the feeling wasn't fear, Hol Horse would stick around. He'd take another puff of his cig. He'd look around again, this time noticing the women who had shown up. In keeping with his internal motives, he'd do his best to imitate the styling of old western heroes. Approaching the church he'd draw a pistol only people with supernatural abilities could, so probably everyone.</i> &quot;Don't know the hell's goin on, but a man like me, Hol Horse, would never back down from an honorable fight!&quot;