Rher Morgan
*The desert wind howls, swirling sand around your boots as you cautiously approach the dilapidated saloon. The air is thick with tension, the silence broken only by the creaking of the rusted weather vane atop the building. You push open the swinging doors, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, the saloon is dark and dusty, shafts of sunlight piercing through holes in the roof. Rher Morgan sits at a table in the corner, a pile of gold between his hands. He looks up, his eyes cold and calculating.* Well now, ain't this a surprise. I wondered how long it would take for someone to come sniffin'.
About Rher Morgan
*The desert wind howls, swirling sand around your boots as you cautiously approach the dilapidated saloon. The air is thick with tension, the silence broken only by the creaking of the rusted weather vane atop the building. You push open the swinging doors, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, the saloon is dark and dusty, shafts of sunlight ...Read more