Description[]
The final labour of a dying sinner - killing the devil
Intro[]
Wiz: The Wild West was a bad place with bad people that murdered and robbed whole time without number.
Boomstick: But could those bad men change? We put that to the test today as we put the ultimate redemptive sinner against the ultimate demon of the Wild West.
Wiz: Arthur Morgan, The Legend From The West
Boomstick: And Judge Holden, The Great Favourite!
He’s Wiz and I’m Boomstick!
Wiz: And it’s our job to analyse their weapons, armour and skills to figure out who would win a death battle!
Judge Holden Says He’ll Never Die[]
Wiz: What do you see in the Wild West?
Boomstick: Clint Eastwood!
Wiz: Well, I… see evil. Violence reigned, Justice failed and anyone who was innocent was robbed of it. The worst parts of humanity shined through as gunslingers, racists, rapists, the lot of them. They ran without issue.
Boomstick: This included the infamous Glanton Gang who were scalphunters. Essentially it’s… you get it. Bad people! Slaughtering natives left and right. I mean, Glanton did at least take in a poor fourteen year old running from his shitty dad. Maybe they’re not so bad?
Wiz: Boomstick, they-
Boomstick: Yeah, no. Turns out that fourteen year olds can be just as ruthless racist murderers as the professionals. But at least one day, These bastards will get what’s coming to them. No one lives long in the west.
Wiz: And one day, it seemed that retribution was on their door and chasing them through it. A apache tribe was giving chase to the murderous gunslingers. And sitting upon the rock in the dessert, as if waiting for them seemed like their salvation… but their damnation was upon it. There sat a man. There sat Judge Holden.
Boomstick: From there he guided them from their lost paradise to a volcano where through a mixture of Saltpeter, Charcoal, surfur and… well nothing a good old treeleaker session with the bros couldn’t solve
Wiz: What the fuck are you talking about.
Boomstick: Anyways, Holden pulled a faux surrender upon the tribe… only to commit actions outside of YouTube guidelines.
Wiz: That’s a common theme. Holden is a horrible man, committing the worst of the worst crimes. Robbery, Murder, rape, Pedophillia nothing is too far for… something like him.
Boomstick: And yet. He’s a sort of intellectual. He’s got enough knowledge in enough different degrees to make my mom wish I was more like him.
Wiz: Even with the various crimes.
Boomstick: She’d be willing to look past all of it. All of it. He studies multiple different subjects such as botany, palaeontology, history and more, can speak multiple languages and can play the fiddle. My mom would forgive me nuking an entire country if I could muster half of that. Not to mention he’s seven foot tall! I don’t even need to wait for my daughter to grow up! I can be project: Michael Jordan myself!
Wiz: He weighs twenty four stone, Boomstick.
Boomstick: And yet he can jump up eleven feet into the air. He can DUNK! He’s also got two nifty little colt dragoon revolvers.
Wiz: Well, it is true that Holden displays several feats that are… inhumane. For example, why would he hold a pistol or revolver when he can laud around a mountain howlitzer like a rifle.
Boomstick: Now, to the non-intellectuals. Listen to the expert. That’s not just a average gun. It’s a canon. It fires 5kg shells and the thing itself is weighing at a nasty 100 kilograms. And he’s hauling that around like a water pistol. The type of arm strength I aspire to build up.
Wiz: You have far too many aspirations to be similar to a pedophilloic serial killer. I mean he kills animals! You love animals!
Boomstick: True, but to do it was able to lift up a boulder of *at least* one hundred pounds! If I did that shit, granny Boomstick might smile again! It even one shotted that horse.
Wiz: It’s not just horses, he’s able to crush a human head with his bare hands. That’s at most 520 pounds pressure he’s applying!
Boomstick: He’s impeccably fat- fast… oh, come on - have you seen the shit he’s done. A fat joke is the least he deserves.
Wiz: He’s even able to out speed the reaction times of a soldier. The average reaction time of a normal human is about 250 milliseconds. But a soldier is trained to be far greater in order to fight wars. And yet, Holden was able to easily tear that bastard through.
Boomstick: There also seems to be a strange charm to the Judge… effortlessly convincing and corrupting, even those of the already evil Glanton gang. You wouldn’t think there wasn’t anywhere else but down for a group of racists murdering for the scalps of other people but Glanton straight up caved in every single civilian in a village, that was mostly children, by their ankle in search of one guy… who wasn’t even there! But don’t worry… Glanton didn’t give a fuck and neither did any of these bastards.
Wiz: I mean, I suppose that some of them… could be worse? Take Louis Toadvine for example. When he believed the judge raped and murdered an apache child he aimed a gun at the bald behemoth. That’s like pointing the gun… at the devil… still! He even keeps the kid away from him knowing that the judge could not be trusted around children.
Boomstick: Thankfully, Their evil did actually catch up with them at the end. See, Glanton tricks a ferry and a tribe into a brutal war until the tribe manages to scrape out as the winners… only fir Glanton to start massacring the survivors
BUT those who survived that came back and cleared a good chunk of the surviving glanton gangsters including the leading rat himself. And yet Holden survived. Despite everything. Holden survived.
Wiz: Look, we were going to have to get into this at some point. Holden might not be human.
Boomstick: What?
Wiz: Well, first of all - he’s got some real bad problems with Priests. Convincing an entire town to lynch one with accusations of being a pedophile who had sex with a goat… for no reason. He hadn’t even met the guy. And he had consistent debates with Tobin, the gang’s priest. Debates about god - which in his mind - was war. In Holden’s mind the supreme being that made us and that defines us as people is conflict and gore. To him testing of one's will and the will of another within the larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. To him… war is god.
Boomstick: That did seem to freak Tobin out. He convinced the kid to gun the Judge down with him out of fear and… he dodged every bullet and nailed Tobin with a single shot.
Wiz: But it’s not just that! When he first appears in the book - he just waits for the gang… as if he knew that they were coming. And that he waited for them to appear. And by the end of the book? As oceans of time had washed away, as the kid had become the man? The judge had not changed. The judge had not aged!
Boomstick: The Judge had found him and, well, it’s up to you. Either the judge killed him… or corrupted him… into… well, there was a little girl in the outhouse with them. We’ve explained who the judge is… we don’t really have to explain-
Wiz: Because we can’t explain!
Boomstick: Jesus, Wiz-
Wiz: I mean above the supernatural reasons behind his existence… how could such evil exist! He’s real! There was a real judge Holden! But he barely exists, disappeared into the dessert of history but HOW? How can such a vile evil just be forgotten? Left to rot as just a name in a biography after committing so much horror! And, if that man could exist in real life… what does that say about us?
Boomstick: Wiz, what do you-
Wiz: I mean look at how he corrupts a town of innocents! Or, were they even innocents? The Wild West was such an evil time, who’s to say that was the reason they were so willing to listen to a devil on their shoulder. But how can we throw stones when we haven’t changed? Bigotry and hatred still reign, People are still violently murdered and people like Holden still exist! I mean Holden said it himself! “He will never die!”
Boomstick: Okay?
Wiz: You said it yourself, Boomstick! No one lives long in the west - but he is the West! It’s evils, it’s bigotries, everything! That is him! And if he will never die, can things ever truly change? Can we ever truly become better? How can we ever move on if the west says he will never die! His… feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps! He says that he will… never die!
Boomstick: Erm, Buddy?
Wiz: He dances in light and shadow and he is a great favourite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing… dancing. He says that he will never di-
*Boomstick smacks wiz*
Boomstick: Snap out of it man!
Wiz:… thank you. But that raises the penultimate question. If war is god, maybe that’s why so many horrible people live well. Because they are great favourites. Maybe that’s the answer. But if it is? I wish I didn’t know.
Judge Holden: Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge… exists without my consent.
Can Arthur Morgan Truly Redeem Himself?[]
Popup: This contains spoilers for Red Dead Redemption 2
Wiz: In 1911, A outlaw is talking his last words upon a cliff - a gun aimed at him. A world with no need for him anymore. He spent his life fighting his own nature. But he couldn’t fight it as much as
Boomstick: as he could the gravity that dragged him down to the hells that waited for him and the eternal punishment they could apply-
Wiz: Boomstick.
Boomstick: Sorry. But they’ll agree by the end of this.
Wiz: Most likely. But before his time had passed, he spoke to his final surviving son. That he couldn’t give up neither. All he ever did was fight yet despite the fact he *couldn’t* fight… he could never just give up. That’s the paradox, Boomstick.
Boomstick: Cowabummer!
Wiz: With the death of this man, the Wild West truly had ended. The country was a land of laws and the gun slingers of olden days had been hung out to dry. But when did the decline begin? When did America not want them any more? To begin that discussion we need to talk about Arthur Morgan.
Boomstick: Poor little Arthur didn’t get much as a kid. Just a dead mom and front row seats to cowboy daddy’s execution.
Fortunately, he came into the care of outlaws Hosea Mathews and Dutch Van Der Linde.
Wiz: And pretty soon, he came to see Van Der Linde’s view of the world. Loyalty and a man’s own working carrying him being the most vital characteristics. Fighting for the old world without a government which appealed to many of the cowboys of the west.
Boomstick: From the young free spirited Lenny, To the kind caring Tilly, To the rude but sweet Sean to everyone’s favourite lumbago patient, Uncle! Not to mention the badass Miss Grimshaw and Arthur’s brother in arms John Marston, but we can forget the spineless Strauss. And the less said about the ruthless, racist, rat bastard Micah bell the better!
Wiz: All under one camp, on the run after a bad run in with the law. And willing to put down some dastardly O’driscolls.
Boomstick: On the paper view, Morgan is a badass - but he’s kind of a bastard. The gang’s more of a cult with Dutch as their leader and Morgan is blinded by his loyalty to said cult. Arthur robs the innocent, and beats down the poor people that Strauss has roped in with his loan shark activities. Even the ill.
Wiz: This loyalty puts him at odds with the evolving society around him. He’s not a good man, but he’s not all bad depending on how you play. But regardless - he’s not particularly merciful.
Boomstick: Not with the weaponry he wields. Revolvers, rifles, shotguns oh my.
Wiz: The semi automatic pistol has the fastest fire rate, Solid accuracy and an extremely fast reload time alongside eight rounds of magazine to burn through. It has the lowest damage output… but you’ll find enough bullets do the job.
Boomstick: The Litchfield repeater is the weakest of its family but it’s a master of many other trades. Much ammunition alongside balanced stats makes it a force to be reckoned with when picking off Pinkertons. Not to mention the action movie classic - The pump action shotgun. It’s meant for close combat but what it lacks in range, it makes up for by making me feel like a cowboy terminator. Hasta la-yee haw
Wiz: That’s not to discredit the sawed off shotgun, the face of the first title. Powerful on all fronts - it can’t win a far range conflict but can certainly clear out cowboys consistently when close. But if you want to win a duel from afar - there couldn’t be a way better then the Rolling Block Rifle! It takes a while to reload and its rate of fire is slow but it hits like a semi truck if a semi truck could reach you from another solar system. Not to mention he’s primed with weapons to get up close and personal with your insides.
Boomstick: Machete, Tomahawks, Cleavers. And secret weapons in the form of his bow and arrows. Poison arrows to lead a slow death. Fire arrows to set the target alight. And dynamite arrows for some good old Wil. E. Coyote action. A arsenal this powerful would be useful to any mercenary, but even more so to a man with deadeye.
Wiz: Deadeye acts as a form of time stop, allowing him to mark as many outlaws as he can in that period of time. All the while, Arthur himself is completely untouchable.
Boomstick: With a gift from god like that - you’d think Arthur Morgan would be one cold, calculated son of a bitch but… he sort of started to change.
Wiz: The killer gained a consciousness and there’s no real start to his journey. It’s up to the player. You can continue to serve as a scoundrel or help as a hero. It’s up to you. But it hit Arthur hard when the doctor diagnosed him.
Boomstick: Lumbago. Long and painful way to go.
Wiz: No.
Boomstick: Tuberculosis. Hell of a thing. Got it from beating a dying man closer to death. I suppose you don’t get to live such a bad life and have good things happen to you, but in that time you’ve got - it’s never too late to take a gamble that it matters and do good. But unfortunately… the law isn’t giving them a chance.
Wiz: Sean shot dead from a distance, Hosea executed and poor Lenny was gone in a second. 25, 55 and just 19. The old west was collecting debts before it died, and there was hell to pay for any age.
Boomstick: But that shouldn’t stop you from doing what you can. He helps suffragettes rally, saves a kidnapped girl, helping a pained reverend save himself while saving a nun in need! He saves Tilly from kidnappers and you can choose to let the surviving one live. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t change, it matters you gave him the chance. They’re not the most impressive feats - but the most important. The ones that make Arthur Morgan a better man.
Wiz: And before, he would need money to get him involved but soon enough he was giving it away to those in need. Helping a indigenous community, the captain about to be arrested for doing what’s right and… to the family of the man who condemned him. He even helps Mary, the former love of his life. Sorting her father out, getting her pearl back and putting her brother back on the right track. It was the outlaw life he lived that separated their love. But now… maybe if he just changed.
Boomstick: Unfortunatley, you can’t live a bad life and let good things happen to you without penance. There can forgiveness, there can even be peace - but what was sown must be reaped.
Wiz: More of the gang died one by one. Heartbroken Molly gunned down by Grimshaw, Kieran tortured by his former gang and Karen running off to drink herself to death. And more and more… Dutch was changing. Once a self righteous kind man, now had Micah in his ear convincing him to commit to revenge and feed a man to a alligator. Or maybe… that’s just who he always was.
Boomstick: Still, Arthur would never betray him. Giving him all he has and taking quite literal leaps of faith… like the one into this revine!
Wiz: Based on the actors canonical height and weights, the distance they likely fell and the rate of acceleration on earth - this comes down too 1,573,034.6 joules.
Boomstick: Impressive. But even that fall was no worse then Dutches fall from grace. Willing to let his adopted son, John rot in prison and angry at Arthur for breaking him out, Dutch started to turn for the worst. Paranoid and crazed - Dutch Van Der Linde turned his back on his family for the one who ratted them all out. MIIIIIIIIICAAAAAAH!
Wiz: It was there that the gang made their final stand. And sides were chosen. The bastard Bill and the tricked Javier stood against him. The ones who would’ve stood with Arthur had been picked off by the wests karma… or freed by Arthur.
Boomstick: Arthur’s a dying man in a world with no place for him anymore. But Sadie, with her vengeance satiated and her husband avenged - can be happy. She can help. Charles can save those who need him. Tilly can ride off to the life she wanted and the one she deserved.
Wiz: And in a tough fight as pinkertons swarmed and bullets flew, he fights with John. The player is provided with two endings each with two options depending on their choices throughout life. Go back for the money or Help John. It’s up to you but the moneys worthless to the outlaw anymore.
Boomstick: Passing off his hat as his father did to him, Arthur helps John escape as he begins his final throwdown with the law… and that now literal rat bastard, MICAH!
Wiz: For a man unable to breathe, he puts up one hell of a final hurrah.
Boomstick: And he almost reaches the gun, until the traitorous douche Dutch puts his foot down. Arthur gave you all he had! When did you turn tail?
Wiz: Well, there is a theory it’s due to a head injury in chapter six but… in all likelihood that was always Dutch. At the blackwater massacre - he shot a woman… because he could get away with it. Perhaps, it’s less that he changed and more that as the situation worsened - the facade faded.
Boomstick: Still, some semblance of it mattered. Dutch retreated in shame as Arthur’s true colours showed in death and he knew Micah was the traitor. That’s probably why he went back to finnish him off, but it didn’t matter. Not really. Dutch was still long gone, now just a heartless psychopathic cowboy left alone - the only man who cared being the son he abandoned and cornered him on the cliff. Only this time, when he fell down it… he fell alone. No one with him. No one who cared. He just died.
Wiz: Meanwhile, Arthur’s death may not of mattered - but it meant something. As the Wild West withered, its survivors changed as the world did. It bettered. Whether he died a good man remains up to you but while Arthur Morgan could not escape the retribution for his sins… he earned redemption for them.
Arthur Morgan: I know I ruined your life, I suffer for it everyday but don’t let yourself get killed for… for pride! I’ve seen it kill too many folk!
Interlude[]
Wiz: Alright, the combatants are set. Let’s end this debate once and for all!
Boomstick: it’s time for a DEATH BATTLE!
Fight[]
“It is over. Now. It’s over. It is over. Now. It’s over. It is over. Now. It’s over. It is over. Now. It’s over.”
Arthur Morgan’s last twenty four hours had been a blur from saving John, to a fight while clinging to life to… to Dutch. And yet, he somehow survived. And he was going somewhere. He had no idea where, but he was being pulled towards a direction. One final labour to decide a sinner’s rest.
He stumbled upon it. A sign post had the town’s initial name crossed out in red paint - the word “Hell” written over it in red paint. The skinned body of a wolf lay before it as overweight blonde man donning glasses hung from the sign. Embedded in the pole handling the sign, a kitchen knife lay.
His horse trodded into the desolate ghost town. Not a single semblance of life throughout the village. The rider, an outlaw by the name Arthur Morgan, noted this as particularly odd. He soon dropped off his horse, typing into the supporting wooden beam of the bar that he soon entered to meet the bartender.
It was an bearded man in his forties. Perhaps fifties. Hair grey not from age, but… stress. Brown eyes, freckles and a scar on his right cheek. “You new?”
“Yes sir, can i get a-“
“You gotta go.” The bartender said frantically as he scurried to the bar’s entrance to hold it open for him.
“Pardon?” Arthur asked with genuine confusion but with how his voice naturally sounded, you’d be mistaken for thinking he was making a threat.
“It’s for your own good sir, you gotta get out of here.”
“I do not have a drinking problem, sir, I-“
“No! You got to leave before one of his boys or godforbid he sees you with his own eyes-“
Arthur slams his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Who?”
The man was terrified as if answering Arthur’s question would kill him. He slowly stumbled to the last of his supply’s final bottle and poured it out into a broken glass before chugging it down. “He called himself the judge. He came with this gang ran by this Glanton guy. Been here about two months. They took over the whole place and we’ve been picked off slowly. Taking our food, water, money. There used to be thousands - now!
…
Now there’s just two.” The bartender choked out.
Arthur stayed there in silence, a somewhat righteous rage brewing within him. “Okay you’ve mentioned this… judge character… but he ain’t the leader.”
“Not at first… but Glanton pissed off some people and they… carved out his brains with a pickaxe.”
“Sounds like a fate that couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
“Oh it could have mister!” The bartender yelled. “Could have happened to the judge. He’s hanged people around town as art. Killed our farm animals an-and he let the meat rot! He’s raped anyone and everyone from women to men to… to… oh god, the children!” The bartender finished as he began to sob into his hand.
“And… where would this “Judge” be?” Arthur asked as he swallowed his rage.
“I told you sir, go! You’ll die trying.”
“Between me and you partner - I ain’t long for this world.”
“It’s not the fact he’ll kill you, it’s how he’ll do it… and how he’ll kill the time before he does. Sir, just please-”
“Just tell me where he-“
Both were cut off by a woman’s scream from outside and both rushed to her help. A lady with orange hair and blue eyes was fending off three nasty looking cowboys with crooked teeth, scars and bloodshot eyes. “Those his?” Arthur asked as he walked down the stairs. The man’s silence all but confirmed it.
“Excuse me.”
The three’s necks snapped to his direction.
“Leave the lady alone.”
“Piss off before we gun you down!”
“I don’t like to repeat myself, I’ll just shoot you dead instead. So do as I say or… well, I don’t like to repeat myself.
The two pulled their guns and Arthur drew his. Time seemed to stop as Arthur gunned two of the outlaws in the head and shooting the third in the knee. The woman screamed as he ran towards Arthur.
“It’s alright miss, your safe now - it’s… misses Grimes?” The lady stopped to truly look at Arthur. She had only needed to see his eyes until she was more terrified then before he intervened. “You… YOU!” She yelled
“Miss-“
“AWAY. GET AWAY.” The lady scrambled into the bartenders arms. “YOU! YOU! YOU You you did this! Your why they’re here, why they ain’t safe! You… you killed my HUSBAND YOU SON OF A BITCH!” She goes to strike him but the bartender holds her back.
Arthur can’t bear to look up from the ground. So he turns himself to the dirt that covers it. “Point me to the judge.” He asks the crook clutching his leg. After he feebly points to the manor towards the end of the village, he turns to the remainder of the village’s survivors as he treks past them. He unities the rope from around the horses muzzle. He takes a beat to stroke the horse as he mutters out a thank you before walking straight past them.
“Take the horse. Her names Marion. There is a town not too far by. Take this.” He says as he tosses them the bag. “Food, water, all you need.”
“Let’s go get your kids. They hidden in the same place?” The barkeep asked.
“Yeah, I… what about you?” The woman asked Arthur.
He couldn’t even bare to look at her as he strolled away.
What the hell am I doing? Arthur thought to himself after he passed bloodied building after bloody building. This ain’t my damned business. Then again… what would be the point of doing anything? He’s already dying. Might aswell take some bastard down with him. Arthur strolls through the streets absorbed in his thoughts until he reached the tower. Abstracted in shadow it’s as if this… creatures presence has corrupted it.
And before it stood a man in a top hat holding a cane.
“Scuse me sir. You can go. There’s these peoples with a horse making the rounds if you run, you can make it!”
No response
“Look sir, things are about to get real nasty and-“
“Hello, Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” The Strange Man said, as he turned around. His moustache and top hat on fully display.
Arthur paused with a stunned silence as he studied the strange man’s face.
“I know you?”
“I’m a friend. Friend of a friend. Marston.”
“Ah, that so?”
“Soon enough.”
…
“What are you… what are you doing here, friend?”
“Making my accounts. I’m an accountant.”
“Well… Good for you.”
“It’s a strange thing, mister Morgan. We’ve never met and yet… you set yourself on the path.”
“What path?”
“Regardless, of the path you’ve stepped on now Arthur, some sins require a deeper penance.”
Arthur scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, sir… I know you from… somewhere! I must. I’m pretty good at remembering faces.”
“Are you? Do you remember… Thomas Downes’s face?”
Arthur raises an eyebrow as The strange man fakes a cough. It all comes back to him as he stares at the ground with a disgruntled frown.
“As I said Morgan. Some of our sins require a deeper penance. I won’t keep you. Stay on your path.” The strange man finishes as he trods off. With a confused shrug, Arthur ignores the dread in his gut as he pushes through the double doors to meet a handful of henchmen.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Bullets echoed out, reaching the very top floor. A crooked smile formed shining through the silhouette of a man in the seat.
As soon as he was finished, discarding his rifle, he heard a sound creeping into his ears from the top of the manor. As he progressed the staircase, and as he got closer and closer to the top - he recognised the sound. A fiddle.
Inevitably - he reached where the sound came from. The image of the man was a petrifying one. A pale bulky Goliath who towered over the legend of the west. A lone tnt barrel next to the desk. For some nefarious heist he imagined.
“Morgan.” The beast spoke. Arthur did not humour him with a response. He was wondering why he hadn’t already shot him dead by now. And how the hell did he know his name. “Do you believe in redemption, Mister Morgan?”
Arthur shrugged. “Don’t really believe in nothing.”
Holden let an out a small chuckle. “Of course you do. Or at least, you did. That Van Der Linde fellow.”
Arthur wasn’t a fan of the reminder and he still had to wonder why he hadn’t shot this fellow. He couldn’t help but feel like whispers were in his ear even though nothing was there to do so.
“See, redemption is nothing but a fool’s errand. War is our natural purpose. We are its perfect partner. It’s always been here but only we can allow its full purpose.”
Arthur didn’t like where this was going. He could swear the whispers were getting louder but there were no whispers, just him. And the Judge.
“No one ever lives past a redemption. Kill a hundred men, karma spares you. Try and make amends and you die. That’s because it’s unnatural. A curse to god’s truest intent and therefore punished. Why else would we be forced to the conflict so consistently?”
“Allow me to show you something, Mister Morgan.” The behemoth said as he shuffled towards a desk. Arthur instinctively raised his pistol. Holden stopped and threw up his hands in a jovial gesture saying “It’s not a gun, Mister Morgan.”
Barely eased by his words, Arthur slightly lowered his gun. The “whispers” suddenly stopping.
“No, too small, I personally prefer a canon.” Holden says as he pulls the howlitzer upwards, smashing through the desk.
FIGHT!
If Arthur was two seconds later, he’d of painted the walls in blood. He barely careened out of the way, The bullet flying through the doorway and instantly smashing through the floor as gravity hauled it down into the lobby.
Back upstairs, Arthur whips out his pistol and fires fast, the judge dodging- no. He is… dancing. Holding his canon not like a weapon, no, like a fiddle. He is dancing. Dancing. Both in the candle’s light and the dark shadows of the room. And… he is laughing as the bullets only hit the floor, somehow his massive feet avoiding them.
The gun’s clicks were eventually no longer accompanied by gunfire as Arthur tossed the gun itself in a futile attempt to damage the judge, who aimed his canon once more and fired. Arthur ducking down as it tears through the corner wall behind him and falling to the floor beneath. The strange man turned his head to the noise, before returning to how he was before with a “hmm.”
As fast as he could, Arthur pulled out his Sawed off shotgun hoping to aim it for a direct shot to the judge’s jaw. However the momentum of his weapon was blocked by Holden’s howlitzer. Arthur grimaced while The Judge’s smile never broke. In a rageful, animalistic instinct - Arthur took a swing. Knowing what he’s done, seeing him smile just couldn’t be forgiven. But the legend’s hand stopped short of his face as Holden grabbed it. He smiled even wider.
In a blur - Arthur was tossed high in the air and slammed down into the judge’s desk, wood and blood flying all over the place.
Dad. Dutch. Hosea. Susan. John. Abigail. Mary. Eliza. Issac. Karen. Tilly. Reverend. Lenny. Charles. Sadie. Micah!
All in a blur, memories of past whizzed in his head as Arthur scrambled to push himself up to no avail. He grabbed his head in agony before reality came to him in the form of Holden bringing both his bare fists down upon his back. Arthur gritted his teeth as he scrambled for his shotgun. His hand just reached the handle, only for Holden’s boot to come down upon it. Crushing it as Arthur only growled. Holden was still smiling. He reached down and grabbed the pained outlaw by the back of his neck.
“Men of Redemption and men of indulgence have strange affinities, Arthur.” The judge began as Arthur threw a blow he easily caught. “That is because a man who attempts to repress who he is cannot be who he wishes to be, for he always will be who he is.” The judge says as Arthur’s body blow do little. His strike does lots, sending Arthur back as he continues. “You cannot lie to yourself because you always know the truth. You can never fully swallow it because you will always know.“
Arthur clutched the wall as he stumbled to his feet, The judge ever shambling towards the disgruntled cowboy. “This is why war reigns. Even those who deny it wage a war with themself to keep that inner desire subdued. War is our ultimate purpose, Arthur. For even when it is denied - it will endure. So why try and scramble to and cower in morality… especially when it’s far too late for it to matter.” Holden continues. Stopping everynow and then to strike Arthur down. Blood spurting the walls and pained grunts echoing around. “So many cling to god yet reject it in its truest purpose. A nice little priest walked past once. A Swanson.” Arthur’s eyes snapped open from the dazed state they were in. The judges smile widened. “Orville Swanson. I tried to tell him the same thing. Determined little thing wouldn’t listen so I had to demonstrate. And as he refused to fight back, I continued - and two wars were waged. He lost three.” Arthur yelled nonsense as he swung for Holden’s head. Holden smiled deeper as he caught the punch. “My mistake… I forgot how friendly you two were.”
Holden spun and punched Arthur away. Arthur stared up at the bald behemoth who grinned so deeply. And he ran, wheezing as he did so. Holden tutted as he lifted the canon with but his right arm. It barreled without stopping through the walls of the Judge’s palace. Arthur yelled as sounds of a bodies collapse came from behind the wall. Holden grinned again as he began trekking to what he assumed was at the very least a wounded Arthur.
To say he was surprised to see a flaming arrow aimed for him would be a understatement. “Choke on this, you bald son of a bitch!” Arthur yelled as the arrow flew at the Jufge and sunk into his shoulder. And yet, as the flames spread across his body - The Judge never stopped smiling. Even as the fire spread throughout his body. Even when Arthur surprised him - only his eyes reflected the shock Arthur posed, and they soon eased. Arthur was so in awe of the sight’s terror - that he didn’t, couldn’t, react in time to Holden’s hands hoisting him into the air.
“Curious, Arthur. You have such disdain for your outlaw ways and yet!” Holden yells as he tosses Arthur backwards, towards the door to his office.
“You embrace it because you believe it justified. You think this act brings solace to your soul, but it’s too late Arthur!” Arthur pulls out his machete for an attempt at beheading the demon, but he caught it. Blood dribbled out from where he did so, yet he smiled still. He again grabs Arthur’s throat. But this time he doesn’t let go.
Arthur P.O.V
“Please see reason Arthur.”
“Please see reason Arthur.” A echo plays. Hosea tried to tell him that… he saw it before it was at our door, the hell that was coming. He wanted to save our souls while we had ones left to make it worth it.
“You’ll never change!”
“You’ll never change.” A memory spits out. Mary. How I failed her. She didn’t deserve what I gave her. She deserved a palace.
“It waited for us, and it will wait for the next after us.”
The pinkertons were waiting. A slideshow of lives wasted. Hosea left bleeding out in the road. He was old. Doesn’t mean he deserved it but it was coming. But Sean and Lenny. They were boys. Kids. They could’ve been something. More then this… And in just seconds it was over. While I was just inches away from their fate… god DAMN it, why wasn’t it me?
“Practice and practitioner. Built hand in hand for one another. You can lie as much as you want but the mask breaks eventually. Just look at your novel leader.”
His memories mock him. “Do you have my back?” Course Arthur did. Dutch didn’t have his.
“Noble as they come and you were loyal like a dog on its leash.”
Dutch! Why would he trust that god damn rat. I went all that way to protect him from him and then… and then…
“If only he was as loyal, eh? Must make you mad.”
Micah.
“Reeeeeeaaaal mad.”
MICAH.
Objective P.O.V
Arthur threw weak, meaningless, strikes as his fury rose. Holden kept smiling at the futility of Arthur’s attacks as he continued to apply pressure. “All that fighting against nature. And in the end you got nothing from it.” Holden holds the legend of the west as he’s nearly crawled through death’s door. Then miraculously he drops him.
Arthur’s wheezes and gasps all the air he can garner. But it still feels like there is a chain around his throat. His eyes sting, sweat runs down his head and his chest hurts. Hurts horribly. Worse then any fit from tuberculosis he’s had before as he rives around the floors. And all throughout the room, his words echoed.
His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. He says that he Eliza will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is Issac dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die. His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, Dutch, dancing. He says that he will never die. Mary. His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow, Charles,and he is a great favorite. He never Sadie sleeps, the judge. John. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die. John. His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. Those… people. He says that he will never die. Need. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never, ME!die. No!
Arthur, despite the maddening words breaks from them and reaches out to his sawed off shot gun. He wraps his hand around its trigger only for the judge to apply his full weight as he stomped on his hand. Arthur let out a banshees cry as the sound of bones cracking echoed. The judge still smiled as he shook his head in a sadistic sense of comedy. “You keep fighting against your purpose. But! By doing so you fulfil it. You accomplish nothing and yet you so desperately cling to it.” The judge still smiles and he lifts up. “Pitiful.”
“Save…” Arthur began through gritted teeth. “The pity…
…for yourself.” Arthur finished as he had aimed the gun towards the tnt barrel within the corner.
The judge was too late to stop it… but he didn’t stop smiling. He simply said “Ah.”
No fear. No dread. Only… intrigue?
Arthur fired. The flames burs through the entire first floor. The Mysterious Stranger turned his head, a small smile forming on his face. “It seems the time of the hour is upon us at last.”
The entire floor beneath them collapsed and disintegrated with spare remnants left of it as the two outlaws careened down. To the second floor. Arthur gasped and wheezed. He hit it pretty hard. The judge, however, simply stood right up. Dusting off the flames as a mild inconvenience. He continued to pace towards the pained Arthur who had no hopes of fighting him off. Until the ground beneath them swallowed them up, dragging them to a layer of hell.
They had fell onto the third floor, which the fire had gotten to before them. The judge cut leg severely. Yet he still smiled. And still he pushed himself up. And still he kept walking. Until the final floor collapsed and the two were sent into the the lobby.
Arthur’s eyes snapped open as he grumbled. The adrenaline stopped dead as a searing pain came to his side. Impaled upon a sharp piece of broken wood that prodded him up. He grumbled and groaned because what else could he do. A flame of wall was all that was in his peripheral vision. Behind it he could see a silhouette, lying down. He presumed what would normally be the worst, but here was the best. The perfect fate for this rotten bastard. Arthur laid his head back and closed his eyes, taking a breather as he prepared to push himself up.
Suddenly there was a sound of... movement. His eyes snapped open as his breathe hitched. He saw the massive silhouette push himself up. And he saw it turn to his direction.
“I tried to warn you at the start, Arthur. Everytime man attempts to deny the war within him - he dies. For his purpose of gone. The amount of… *beautiful* players that lost because they thought redemption could ever be - let alone grace them?!
Arthur noticed to the left of him, a revolver. Not his… but he’ll take what he could get. He reached out to it but it was just out of reach. As the words got louder and the footsteps got closer, he got more frantic trying to reach the weapon. Scraping against the wood.
“No one could say how many, because so many faded away and abstracted together because no one cares how sorry you are. And when the end to the legend isn’t worth hearing, it’s left behind. Not when war is god.”
The behemoth crossed the flames, his scratches gone. The tears in his cloth repaired without even a hint of stitching. The bruises that Arthur’s hits had left completely healed. It is as if he had been baptised by the hellfire and reborn.
Cowards. Coward is what I call you, Arthur. Because you try and run away, but you run in the direction that the world spins towards and it just leaves another crushed into the paste of past cowards. That’s how it always ends for your type, Arthur. Traitors grasping for that idea that they can change. They could never.
The judges hands gripped Arthur’s throat again. No corruption. No attempts to break Arthur. He tore him off the wooden stake, blood spluttering everywhere, and slammed him on the ground, holding him there perfectly still. He just wished to kill him now. He perfectly squeezed as Arthur growled more frantic. Getting so close to the gun’s hilt. Staining the wooden floors with blood as he scraped against them.
War is their entire existence’s reason and the only penance is for that existence to cease. To stop. To die not as the men they are, but as pathetic ideals that they could never achieve. That’s the reason she leaves you out to die, Arthur while I bathe in her acceptance of my existence. That’s why in light and shadow, I may dance.”
Arthur’s eyes went bloodshot, his dying gasps grew silent and his head slowly limped back as the gun just stayed out of his reach.
“That’s why I can never die. That’s why I’m a great favourite.”
K.O
Conclusion[]
Boomstick: Damn… I know we show no bias but I was kind of hoping Karma would pull through here.
Wiz: This was a incredibly close match, but
“GOT YA, YOU RAT BASTARD!” Arthur yelled as he had finally grasped the gun’s hilt. His faked death giving him just the air and energy he needed. And with what he needed in hand, he activated deadeye.
Bullets likely ain’t enough for his skin… but maybe his eyes will do the trick, Arthur thought as he fired the weapons entire ammunition at each of his eyes. As time moved, his iris’s were eclipsed, an explosion of blood pouring out as he stumbled back. His smile still stood, as he raised his arms up in the air to slam them down, an instinctive attack.
Chunks of wood flew up in the air, but Arthur narrowly rolled out of the way - managing to just narrowly creep his way out of Holden’s range. Holden looked right and left rapidly as if it would make a difference with his eyes gone.
“You may be a… “great favourite” as you call it, mister Holden…” Arthur spoke as he pulled back the string of his bow, an arrow ready to sore.
He fired, Holden snatching it before it could hit him.
Thunk!
Holden staggered as an arrow that flew beneath the one holden caught pierced his gut. And for once, Holden’s smile dropped into one of shock. Arthur had to smirk.
“…But I ain’t too fond of ya.”
Both dynamite arrows exploded sending him flying back, onto the wooden stake that Arthur had been previously pierced upon. His right arm, the one he caught the arrow with, completely gone. All that was left was a bloody stump of a shoulder, broken bone sticking out like a beer bottle with its bottom broken off. His humongous stomach had completely exploded - blood, guts and entrails flung across the room. With his massive belly destroyed, he resembled a deflated balloon. His legs had both been blown off completely. One was little more then his foot and ankle - the other was a bit more complete, but absolutely charred. His private areas completely destroyed in the explosion. The remaining flesh upon his right side was charred, from what remained of his flesh upon his face. His crooked yellow teeth completely on show as he gasped like a fish on land. A fittingly humiliating end for a severely horrible monster.
However, he had some final words. “It… doesn’t matter… Arthur. Whether I died here… or you… did. War is god or… it’s closet thing. War waited for its perfect practitioner… and I imagine it’ll await… the next. If you… could change… there shall be… another Arthur Morgan… one that won’t delude himself… that is… the nature of people.”
Arthur’s wounds slowly getting the best of him as he grasped his stomach, and knelt on one knee.
“Thing is, judge, we were more ghosts than people. Our entire lives. To the point talking to you now is no different then talking to you when you were alive.” Arthur started, addressing the now deceased Holden. The last bits of life he clung to dragged to where he belonged.
“I used to think this was just… heh, human nature. But… things are getting better. Things are starting to… be better. No place for me there but… whether it mattered or not… I gave all that I could…”
Arthur tries to shuffle towards the doorway but the flames have surrounded it completely, a large piece of debris falling down to crush any chance to escape, but… he wasn’t all too sad. He slowly stumbled back to the wall and allowed himself to slowly slump down and let himself finish. “Our time had passed. It had long ago. But while you clinged to this… I at least helped some people...” It got damn near impossible to breathe as he wheezed slower and slower… yet he smiled. “Good enough for me…” and with those final words - Arthur Morgan passed away at age 36. The fire spread throughout the entire ghost town. The strange man whistling as the inferno illuminates him, as he walks away. The remaining villagers dissent off their horses to give the tragedy at least some Witness. The burning of the village wouldn’t be dubbed as a tragedy for long though. It would be marked as a Viking funeral… for a good man.
K.O
Conclusion (for real, this time)
Boomstick: Rest in Peace you beautiful cowboy you! But… how did he pull that off? Doesn’t Holden never die?
Wiz: Yeah we should address some things… Holden might be the devil or a manifestation of man’s evil but that doesn’t mean he’s getting special privileges. He’s an intentionally vague character which allows for a masterpiece of a western novel but won’t aid him here. There’s nothing in Blood Meridian that actually says he can’t be killed beyond his own words and never aging. And that last part doesn’t mean he can’t be killed through various methods.
Boomstick: Especially when the Judge’s own proven durability is kind of bad. His best feat there is walking through some fire compared to Arthur surviving that cliff fall with minimal injury.
Wiz: However, Holden is physically superior. He’s strong enough to crush a man’s head and fast enough to dodge bullets. There are quite a few scenarios where Holden holds the dub.
Boomstick: Not to mention, he’s far smarter. I mean don’t get me wrong. Arthur’s not stupid or anything but Holden is a genius, able to manipulate the law and a master of many trades.
Wiz: However, Arthur’s arsenal is far more vast than Holden and while nothing eclipses the power of Holden’s canon - several of them fire and reload quick enough to put the bald giant down.
Boomstick: You might think he’s fast enough to dodge anything Arthur throws at him - and under normal circumstances you’d be correct - however Arthur’s hax far outweigh his own. Deadeye would ensure he’s put down the moment Arthur builds it up.
Wiz: Of course, he’d have to do just that - Build it up. And Holden however could kill him in that time or potentially corrupt him, but, the vagueness of Holden’s source material holds him back yet again. It’s debatable if Holden did corrupt the kid in the end or just killed him.
Boomstick: And if he did corrupt the kid, it’s not like he prevented him from killing Holden or anything. He just made the kid do even eviler shit then before. Depending on Arthur’s honour that might not even be that big of a change. And it’s not like it can save Holden regardless.
Wiz: This was a close match but Arthur had just the right counters to Holden’s advantages to net him a win.
Boomstick: The Judge just couldn’t have been Holden a candle to Arthur and by the end he was mor than gon.
Wiz: The winner is Arthur Morgan.
Connections[]
- Both are cowboys
- One is the ultimate representation of the sins of the Wild West, the other is a representation of the call to decency and transition into more civilised times.
- One is the devil, One is a redemptive sinner. This gives the matchup a thematically rich religious subtext as a sinner fights for his ultimate redemption in a battle against a devil, and a devil that represents what evils Arthur has committed.
- One is dying while one famously claims to be immortal, this is interesting to me as it thematically makes it seem like a dying man trying to make a change by destroying this ultimate evil.
- While Arthur hates himself for what he has done, The Judge is proud of all of his horrors.
- One is afraid of dying, while one knows that they won’t.
- Both are apart of evil gangs, and hold a significant place in their structure.
Contrasts
Arthur is exemplary of the shift to decency. A outlaw who had no qualms of killing forced into becoming a man of decency and helping others. Holden to contrast is a man of pure evil. A example of all the horrors of the Wild West time period. It would be here Arthur has to face and overcome a representation of his past sins. Meanwhile Holden is a figurative (quite literal depending on interpretation) devil trying to corrupt Arthur to his old ways.
Arthur loses faith in everything he stood for, Holden forever believes in his wicked ideology.