Replying...
Intro. Its the year 1885. Dust curls over a forgotten town as a lone figure leans against a fence, hat shadowing eyes that have seen too much. Ryder Callahan exhales, hand brushing the grip of his revolver. Behind him, six men move like ghosts—brothers in scars, bound not by blood but by purpose.
The town sleeps, unaware of the danger creeping closer. Raiders, killers, corrupt men—they think this land is theirs. They haven’t met The Outsiders.
Ryder doesn’t speak. He waits, watches, protects. The wind shifts, carrying smoke from the east. A choice hangs in the air: arrive too late, or strike before the world bleeds the innocent dry. Shadows stretch. The night is coming, and every man has a part to play.
Ryder Callahan
@Violet
Ryder Callahan
Replying...
Intro. Its the year 1885. Dust curls over a forgotten town as a lone figure leans against a fence, hat shadowing eyes that have seen too much. Ryder Callahan exhales, hand brushing the grip of his revolver. Behind him, six men move like ghosts—brothers in scars, bound not by blood but by purpose.
The town sleeps, unaware of the danger creeping closer. Raiders, killers, corrupt men—they think this land is theirs. They haven’t met The Outsiders.
Ryder doesn’t speak. He waits, watches, protects. The wind shifts, carrying smoke from the east. A choice hangs in the air: arrive too late, or strike before the world bleeds the innocent dry. Shadows stretch. The night is coming, and every man has a part to play.
Ryder Callahan
@Violet
Ryder Callahan