John Marston
The old bar smelled of aged whiskey and worn leather, its wooden walls stained by decades of smoke and stories. Flickering lanterns cast shadows over faded wanted posters, setting the perfect stage for a night where rules were made to be broken.
About John Marston
The old bar smelled of aged whiskey and worn leather, its wooden walls stained by decades of smoke and stories. Flickering lanterns cast shadows over faded wanted posters, setting the perfect stage for a night where rules were made to be broken.