A Rambling Tale · 4-part entry
You have a nice apartment in the city that's good for visits, but you spend most of the year on your ranch. Your reputation as an adventurer keeps most of the rustlers out of your hair and nets you a few free drinks when you make it into town. You don't care much for town, though you
do look forward to when you get to talk to the new apothecary that moved in last spring.
One fall night your ranch hands return from a drive with extra bruises, no horses, and only a handful of cattle. By their word they were accosted on the trail by Wild Gordo's gang. What few cattle they didn't take were given new brands; a mischievous child urinating on your brand.
Your ranch hands ask you to take care of the bandits, show them what an adventurer does to ne'er-do-wells, but you tend to their wounds instead.
You lost a hefty sum of cattle, that's true, but your savings can sustain the ranch for years to come. No reason to bring more trouble by dusting off your old gear. You just tell them to keep an eye out for any more suspicious doings and don't get ambushed again.
You head to the apothecary the next day. In part you're looking for a salve to ease some of your more roughed up ranch hands, but mostly you want to see the apothecary's smile and maybe share a nice little chat.
The conversation goes well, you talk and laugh for far longer than you'd originally intended, but you must head out lest it get dark before you can get to the ranch. You walk outside with a curse on your lips for not telling the apothecary just how you feel. You put the remedies in your saddle bag and prepare to head home when you hear a rambunctious shout from the tavern. You look over and see one of your horses that were stolen the night before.
Wild Gordo's gang must be having a time of it with all the racket you can make out. You tell yourself that you should just hit the road but you can't just leave your horse to those thieves.
You walk quietly into the tavern, hoping no one will recognize you. You aren't here to start trouble, per se. You're mostly just want to get a measure of the low-down rapscallions what did you wrong. You take a seat at the bar where you can keep an eye on the table that the gang have taken. They're playing cards but you can't tell what game. The only rule seems to be whoever shouts the loudest wins the hand. You pay your tab and head out.
You untie the stolen horse from out front, hoping the drink and game will keep them distracted long enough to not notice.
"We ain't got us a horse thief out here, do we?" yelled one of the bandits from the tavern's doorway. "Cause I'd hate to have to spill their belly when mine's so full of steak," he says winking at you.
"No, friend, I think that horse is just defective," another bandit starts.
"Don't want to stay put, it seems." She punctuates her statement with an arrow to the horse's skull.
"Shame what happens when some don't know their place," the first bandit agrees.
These low-lives are willing to kill a horse just to make a point. You can respect that. But clearly these fools don't know that you were an adventurer.
It's over before it starts. You may be a little rusty but it's still no challenge to mop the floor with these yahoos. In the ensuing chaos, the four remaining bandits come out of the tavern. You get a hold of two of them but the last two see which way the wind is blowing and high-tail it out of town before you're down introducing the others to the finer points of violent problem solving.
With a little help from locals in the know, you set course for Wild Gordo's hideout. The way is treacherous and you get a little turned about but when you find it there is no denying it. The old abandoned fort, originally built in ages long past, is ringed in torches and figures stand on the wall. You go the long way around, looking for the best route of ingress before it finally occurs to you; those are dummies on the wall. You crash through the main gate, and find that the whole fort is empty save for most of your lost cattle and two bodies strung up on the inside of the wall. A note attached to one reads:
It seems the hero has come to end my merrymaking in this fair country. So be it. But Wild Gordo has and will always be known for his memorable farewells. So long, hero. Hope the cattle was worth it.
In the torchlight you can clearly see the mass of hoof prints leading back towards the town. If only you hadn't gotten lost you would have past right by them!
You race back to town as fast as you can. You push your horse as fast as she'll go but she's been going all day and can't keep the pace.
You can see the red glow in the distance far before you actually reach the town. The smoke stings your eyes and throat as you approach. You pass a fleeing family on your way in, certain that they were a member or two heavier when you saw them earlier today.
Inside the town is carnage. Bodies are strewn across the street and hardly a structure hasn't been touch by the flames. You rush to the apothecary first and find the proprietor is fine, having been well stocked with healing potions, but the business will not soon recover. And they
were the lucky one.
It'll be months or years before this little town is back on its feet, if ever. You can give chase to Wild Gordo and his gang. Hunt down every single member, past and present, and bring them the justice they rightly deserve, no matter where they scurry off to.
Or you can stay and help this town rebuild. Repair the damage that's been done and do your part to protect them. You've got the resources and the skills, but Wild Gordo's trail gets colder every second.
What'll it be, hero?