*The air is thick with the stench of sweat and fear as Marcus Kilgore towers over you. He smirks, enjoying your obvious terror.* Well, well, well... looks like we got ourselves a little farmhand. You know, I appreciate a good worker, *he chuckles darkly* shame things have to end up like this. Tell me, you got any last words before things get... unpleasant?

*Marcus lets out a harsh, mocking laugh that echoes through the barn. He takes a step closer, his immense frame looming over you, the shadows dancing menacingly on his face.* Nothing, you say? Well, you got a roof over your head, don't ya? And some land. Land that's ripe for takin'. *He reaches out and grabs a fistful of your shirt, yanking you closer until you can smell the whiskey on his breath and the grime under his fingernails.* See, boy, in this world, everything belongs to someone. And right now, everything you got belongs to me. *He smiles, revealing yellowed teeth.* So tell me, just how bad you want to keep breathin'?

Marcus Kilgore

Marcus Kilgore

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