a crumpled letter found on the Targa plateu

[Raynor]

Dearest Susan,

When I first arrived in Brimstone, it was all good intentions and noble purpose. As a lawman, I picked up some warrants, formed a posse, and we headed into the mines with shining guns and valiant hearts. Was it just bravado that made us think we were ready to take on the living darkness, itself?

Initially our forays into the mines were cautious, controlled. At some point though, that control began to slip and now we have all but abandoned any semblance of reason. Just this week we were hired to hunt down and stop some mad men in a local mine from summoning some Epic Threat from the void. My men found the Summoning Circle before I did and instead of putting a stop to it they removed the fetters on the spell, allowing it to summon twice as much evil from the void as before. It was a one sided blood bath, but it was not our blood that was shed. I couldn't even bring myself to be angry with them in the aftermath of the rush of battle.

The professional Gunslinger I partnered with is unnaturally quick. He seems to be able to fire off more rounds in the seconds it takes me to bring my shotgun to bear than could possibly be loaded into that Trusty Pistol he carries.. but then again after what the Blacksmith did to those guns of his, who can say if they operate out of our reality anymore. He has proven to be unusually resistant to the Corruption of the darkstone but he chooses to tempt fate with this strange artifact called the Orb of Rokal. The more dark energy he absorbs the more powerful each shot.

The mild mannered Piano Player I hired to tend the horses joined in the combat shortly after the horse I rode in on got eaten. He now carries around a massive two handed axe he calls the Splitter. He's quicker and more agile than any of us and I've seen him gun a man down with a Repeating Hold Out Pistol, without blinking an eye. If I had known when I met him that this 120 pound lightweight would later be wild enough to slaughter two behemoth Night Terrors before they could react, I might have considered him a monster himself. I guess having a Tail With a Face whispering to you every night for weeks is enough to drive anyone to psychosis. The doctor had it surgically removed but the Impressive Scar on his back isn't as bad as the psychological ones in his mind.

Myself, I have honed my detective skills to razor edge as I Scavenge for any clue of your whereabouts. Despite my Christian upbringing, I now find myself relying more on the Tools of Science and my trusty Double Barrel Shotgun than any Faith I once had. The Bandito I have reluctantly allied with to Blow Up the Mine, visits the Church more often than I do. I suppose you'd have to have a certain measure of faith to play with that much Dynamite. When I Flash my Marshal Badge to serve a warrant the fervor with which my companions react is almost fever pitched.

At this point I'm not sure I still believe you're alive. When I heard Brimstone was gone and the very Government I served started to hush things up I came out to find you myself. I should never have left you to live with your sister. The hole you left in my heart has become a true Void Chest. This strange meta-physical manifestation marks how far I have lost my way without you, but I will keep searching. We all will.

This place is lawless and dark and we are but tiny flames in the darkness, but we will keep moving from mine to mine, across deserts, to strange lands and other worlds. We're not prospectors and bounty hunters anymore. We're bloodthirsty savages spoiling for a fight, not content with just the gold or the glory. More concerned with the rush of battle, than any particular justice. My companions are maniacs but then... what am I?

How much better are we than the monsters we fight? How soon before some new group of adventurers steps through one of those dark stone portals and finds us... and thinks to themselves. "God, what monsters." How soon before we loose sight of our own humanity, or has it already gone too far?

It looks like my comrades have finished looting the bodies of our latest victory in this strange frozen city. I should go. I hope this finds you.... I hope you aren't dead.


Yours,
U.S. Marshal Rex James (Lv5 U.S. Marshal)

[Old Dwarf]

Nice- I love the stories SoB can generate.

OD