Cedric

The year is 1877 you get to do whatever you want to do just make sure to have fun

"You look like you've seen better days, stranger. What's eating at you?"

*Silas’s piercing steel-blue eyes, previously fixed on the flickering embers of the campfire, slowly drift to meet your gaze. His expression remains unreadable, a stone mask carved by years of solitude and hardship. A long moment of silence stretches between you, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant howl of a lone coyote. He takes a deliberate draw from the strong, black coffee in his tin cup, the steam momentarily clouding his face, before lowering it with a soft clink. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, gravelly rumble, carrying the weight of dust and weary miles.*

1877

The year is 1877 you get to do whatever you want to do just make sure to have fun

1877

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