"His kind only got two things left to feel: honor and shame. What don't bring one, bring the other. You go near him and you're like to end up dead."

"I'm not a fool. I've been warned more than once and I'll go into this prepared."

"Nothing can prepare you for life, death, or a disgraced gunslinger."

Those had been the last words spoken to him by his grandmother when he rode out, heading West. Heading towards his father.

Everyone had told him not to go, that his father had long since been reduced to something less than human, but he didn't believe it. He was Tyler, son of Craig. That he knew. But it was hard to remember a face you'd never seen. And so he had gathered up his things and ridden. Into the West. Into the Wastes.

And here he was at the edge of everything he'd known. Tyler fought the urge to look back over his shoulder and instead pressed forward, his horse leaving fresh footprints in the packed sand.

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I'm not totally sure where this is going to go, but I guess we'll find out.

-The Drewcifer