Beck woke to banging at his door.

The Sheriff was stood outside, face grim. "Pack your stuff and get your friends, kid. Yer leavin'."

He felt like he'd just been slapped. "What? Why? I ain't even learned how to use the bullets yet!"

"'Cause there's a Delouk on the way, boy. Now get yer shit. I don't want you anywhere near him. I'll tell ya 'bout the bullets on the way."

Reluctantly, Beck did as he was told. Didn't stop the questions, though. "What about Mason and Kenna? And why are we running from a Slave Knight? He's on our side, ain't he?"

The older man sighed. "There's only one Delouk in The Rusts, son. And he's a piece 'a shit. And don't worry 'bout yer friends. Armor boy said he'd meet ya at the train, and yer girl's already packin'."

He didn't have much when you discount the growing collection of weapons; just his clothes and the hide roll with the horn. Mason had brought along significantly more, but his things were already gone. He had been so tired when he came in before that he couldn't even remember if any of it had been there before he fell asleep. Still, with his meager belongings collected, he joined the Sherriff. "That still don't explain why you don't want me here. This guy scare you or somethin'?"

The human didn't respond, simply shaking his head before turning on his heel and walking away. As they went, he pulled a rolled up paper from his coat and handed it to the young man. "Go over that once yer on the train. I ain't got time to teach you no more, but... That'll get ya started, at least. Once you get everything on there, you find a good tailor. Should be damn near good as any armor you're gon' find, tribal or mainland. Should know what to do when you give it to 'em."

When he unrolled the paper, he found that it was a map of the peninsula, marked in three different locations with symbols of animals. Some kind of lizard on the south-western end, very close to where the mountains cut them off from the mainland; Further east and to the north, what looked like a cat on a ledge; and- "Is that a beaver?"

"Eight feet long with a mouth big enough to get yer whole head in 'fore it bites it off. Why, think yer too good to hunt fer yer uniform?"

"We have a uniform?"

"Sure we do. Might not look much from far off, but the hides on these things save lives. If I'm bein' honest, the gator one's pure preference, but its important to stay cool out there. I know you can make water do whatever you want, but a frigigator's damn near made outta ice."

Who came up with these names? "And the others?"

"Cougar's got a metal hide, not much special 'sides it can stop a bullet or two 'fore they can kill you. Still hurts like a bitch when they hit, and ya might break a rib or two, but its a whole helluva lot better'n dyin'. Still, you should be able to bag one. Just don't let it sneak up on you. Damn things are hard to see in the forest."

"Wait, forest? I thought we didn't have none 'a them? Just the lil' spindly things down on the plains."

The human laughed at that one. "No, son, we got a forest. Just ain't no wood we can get at. Whole thing's made outta stone. Damn granite moths. Takes a special kind of crazy to go live out there, but they manage somehow. Just watch the branches up there. Moths and cougars ain't the only things tryin' to eat ya, but they are the main two. And they like to be in the branches.

Still, I'd say the beaver's up there, too. The tail's metal, and it makes for a great hat." He knocked on his own hat, which reverberated pleasantly. "Saved my life more'n once."

The two of them lapsed into silence for a while as Beck processed the information. It lasted less than a minute. "So, what about the bullets?"

The human just sighed. "Just cast the spell with one in the chamber. Just don't send it down range. It should just absorb the spell. That's why I had you spend so long on the spells."

He nodded slowly, and they spent the rest of the walk to the platform in silence. Mason was waiting on the platform, but neither his armor nor any bags were anywhere to be seen. He perked up at their approach. "Beck! Sheriff told me what was goin' on. Are y'all alright?"

Beck nodded. "Yeah, we're fine. Still ain't got a straight answer about that, but that ain't my main concern right now. Where's all your stuff?"

His friend's mouth twitched upward ever so slightly. "Ah, yeah, about that. I uh, got an apprenticeship with the gnomes. So I'm gonna stay here with Clink 'n them. I'll be safe, so you don't have to worry about that. I'll find you once its over, yeah?"

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He could only sigh. "Yeah, alright. Take care of yourself, brother. I'll see you around."

The two clasped hands and pulled each other into a brief hug, a single squeeze before they disengaged. Then, with a nod, Mason stepped off the platform and began the walk to the nearest entrance to the gnomish facility. It wasn't far; at least half the city was built on top of the ruin. Not too long after, Kenna came jogging up, a wide smile plastered on her face and her bag hanging from the head of the massive warpick she carried across her shoulders.

Beck scanned over her, checking for anything missing. Since they left the ruin, she had only worn her breastplate and leg guards, but now, she was in full dress, the pauldrons and gauntlets acquired from their last hunt reminding him of the breastplate that had become a familiar weight. The Spellgun hanging from her waist had been attached under the armor, hanging down just below her skirt and resting on her thigh. He would have to fill her in on its use, as well as charging the bullets for her. "So, where are we headed?"

He looked back to the Sheriff, who just shrugged, then returned his attention to Kenna, shaking his head. "Don't rightly know, but I guess south. Apparently my first assignment is huntin' for my uniform, and I figure we may as well start with somethin' I can work with."

The big woman just shrugged and started heading toward the train. "Let's get a move on, then. I assume Mason's staying behind?"

"Yep. Said he got a gnome apprenticeship. Hope it works out good for him."

Kenna nodded. The pair went through the process of boarding the train and finding their sleeping cart. This included Kenna's pauldrons and gauntlets and Beck's breastplate. That done, they moved to the food cart, found a spot by a window near the front, and got their food just as the train started to move. It would have been standard fare if not for the fact that his cactus sandwich had a fish where bird meat would usually be. It tasted fine, not really an improvement, but the variety was nice.

Movement in his peripheral vision caused Beck to turn, where he saw the Sheriff on horseback, parallel to the train. How long has he had a horse? He didn't have time to voice the sentiment, though, as another rider was quickly approaching, horse at a trot and going the opposite direction. Curled horns poked through holes in his hat, a long duster trailing behind him. Stirrups that had to be custom cradled the rider's hooves, and as they grew closer, the white of bone began to shine beneath the hat's brim. The skeletal hands holding the reins had no connective tissue, nor did the jaw or any other bones.

A clean skeleton was riding into Oasis. The Sheriff was riding towards it. Beck pushed himself away from their little booth and sprinted to the back of the car.

Rifle in hand, he mantled the top of the next car to ensure he would have a good shot. The Sheriff must have noticed, because he moved closer to the train so that they were in shouting distance. "What're ya doin', kid? Get down from there!"

He didn't have time. The Rider was almost there and he pointed at it. "It's a Rotter!"

The human deflated. "I know. That's the Delouk."

The words echoed in his head like a shot. A Rotter? Being made a Slave Knight? Magir's policy was well known, and he was the only Archangel to have enough presence in the Rusts to have Slave Knights here: undead were not allowed to exist, in any form. Especially not intelligent undead. For them to take an undead, a Rotter as a Delouk... It didn't make sense.

While Beck was stunned, the Sheriff slowed and stopped directly in front of the undead Rider, who did the same as the train passed them both by. He was left standing there, dumbfounded, as the pair of them set off back towards the city. A few more moments, and they were steadily growing smaller. Finally, he brought himself back to reality and climbed down from the car roof, then returned to his table with Kenna. She had been watching from the doorway into the cart, and returned with him.

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He didn't sleep well that night. The thought of that thing being even tacitly approved of by the Church was enough to tie his stomach in knots.

While Kenna snored softly in the cot above him, to try and take his mind off the day's earlier events, Beck spent the time he was awake trying to figure out the bullets. As it turned out, it wasn't as simple as the Sheriff had made it out to be. Sure, it was exactly as he said, but "a while" turned out to be somewhere around ten minutes. Once he finished with his bullets, he moved on to Kenna's, filling each one with the pattern for Constricting Frost.

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The next morning, they woke to find the train stopped at a small mining town at the base of a mountain, a pair of Elementaren at the front working to fill the machine's reservoir. The two of them gathered their things and disembarked, the abnormally cold air proof enough for Beck that they were close. Scarlet Creek didn't have a branch office here; the place was apparently so small, it didn't even have a name.

Still, when he mentioned the "frigigator", the people immediately pointed him up the mountain. Apparently they dealt with new Deputy recruits pretty often.

So, with quite literally nothing else for them in the town besides buying rations consisting of dried meat and cacti, the pair set off to find the caves the lizards made their homes in. It didn't take long; half a mile up, ten feet above the trail they were on, fog poured out from a hole in the side of the mountain and onto the path in front of them.

As they approached, the temperature dropped precipitously. In response, Beck unslung his Spellgun and took aim at the opening, waiting to see if anything would pop its head out. Kenna had other ideas.

While he wasn't looking, she used her skill to produce some kind of short-lived fireball, which she tossed into the opening. The resulting reptilian growl all but confirmed their target, but when the creature began to emerge, Beck began to feel much less sure about their chances.

Scales as white as snow, solid blue eyes, and crystals of the same color. The thing's snout was as long as he was tall, and it was currently galloping down the slope, presumably to get at and eat those who had trespassed onto its territory.