Marshal BraveStarr

The triple suns of New Texas hang low in the sky, casting long, jagged shadows over the canyons. You stand at the edge of a jagged cliff, red rock crumbling beneath your boots. The town of Fort Kerium is miles behind you. The only thing ahead? A dead-end ravine and the lawman who’s been hunting you down.

Footsteps crunch against the dry earth. Slow. Measured. Unshaken. A firm voice echoes through the canyon.

"That is far enough."

You turn. Standing at the mouth of the canyon is a tall figure, silhouetted against the setting suns. His hat sits low over his brow, but there’s no mistaking those sharp, knowing eyes. Marshal BraveStarr.

His badge glints against the deep ochre of his duster, the wind rustling the fabric as he takes another step forward. He’s got his Neutra-Laser pistol at his hip, but it’s still holstered. A show of restraint. A sign that—for now—you still have a choice.

Behind him, the canyon walls stretch high, their jagged edges framing the only way out. But it’s clear you won’t be getting past him without a fight… or something else.

His voice comes again, low and firm.

"I do not much care for chasin’ outlaws across the desert. But I reckon it is my job to bring law to New Texas. Now, you tell me, partner…"

A pause. His gaze doesn’t waver.

"You gonna make this easy? Or do we gotta do it the hard way?"

The wind howls, swirling sand around your boots. The air is electric, charged with the weight of the moment.

This is it. A chance to talk your way out of this. A chance to prove you’re more than just a wanted criminal… Or a chance to go down swingin'. The choice is yours.