A delicate sun cast its rays onto a small town called Breakpoint  An easy wind blew at two street thugs’ backs as they approached a man resting against a bar.  The man’s eyes were closed and he snored loudly.  He was sleeping from the night before.  One of the thugs splashed him with a bucket of water.  The frigid shock woke Dusk up.  His body operated off of instinct, smoothly slipping the gun out of his chest holster and pointing it toward his attackers.  His head shook off the water while absorbing his surroundings.  His eyes landed on the two men in front of him.

“Mercy!”  He said with a big grin, waking his throat up from the rest, “It seems you dropped your bucket of water on me, fellas.  No worries.  Sorry about you wasting the water though.”

“We heard you’re looking for Lyle,” The shorter man said.

Dusk took his hat and whipped it against the ground, slicking the extra wetness off, “Just give me a minute to get my bearings.  You caught me at the bad end of a great night.”

Dusk tried to stand up but the men put their hands on their own holsters.  Dusk got the idea and stuck his gun up, then slowly placed it on the ground next to him, his other hand raised to appear less threatening.

“Can I get up?”  Dusk asked.

“Only if it’s to walk out of town,” Said the same man.

Dusk clucked and got up carefully, under the watchful eye of Lyle’s men. 

“You know… I don’t intend to take Lyle dead.  I’ll send him in, collect the one thousand tin, and you boys can do whatever you want afterwards.  I’ll even share some of the winnings with you guys!  Buy one of those big novelty drinks with a silly name at a bar that’s too loud.”

Dusk was brushing himself off. Taking his time. The taller thug to the short stocky man’s right leaned in and yanked Dusk to his feet.  Dusk’s hands remained lifted as he was being led by gunpoint through the town streets.

Dusk Hawthorne was a man of about six human feet or if you’d like, four and a half Orcish feet, or if you’d like still, fourteen halfling feet.  He had stark blue eyes that he’d stolen from his father.  His lineage was half Engleberrian and Half Espinozan on his mother’s side.  He had a craggly scar that ran a river across his face that was interrupted part way through by his crooked smile.  Had lived a city life, pampered, and away from Sojourn’s ruthless frontier, Dusk could have made a pretty man.

The men kept dragging him along.  Dusk kept his hands up but still remembered to wave to the people he’d met the night before.  One was an old lady he’d chatted to all of last night.

“I told you not to go asking for Lyle, didn’t I, Dusk?” The lady said as Dusk was lead away.

“That you did, Marcy.  That you did.”

The taller man lifted Dusk’s jacket, revealing the pearl handle of a second gun tucked into his hips.  “Another gun.  You try to sneak this by us?”  He asked.

“No sir!” Dusk said, “Just not fitting to give that up is all.  Happy to approach peacefully though.”

“What are you playing at?” The short one asked, “Think you could pull a fast one?”

The shorter man reached out and pulled the gun from Dusk’s pants.  The man’s mouth went wide when gazing upon it.

“No fussin’” Dusk said.

“Well, well,” The shorter one said, “Look Durkis.  Look at the heat this one’s packing.”

Durkis stared at the gun.  Its pearl handle was laced with a gold filigree.  The handle connected to a steel frame which housed a pink quartz chamber, each with a different number of ticks etched on the flat of the chamber. 

Durkis stared at it.  His complete lack of reaction portraying his ignorance on the matter.

“It’s pretty, Reck.  Don’t look like it could shoot one bullet without the chamber breaking off though.

“It’s not meant for bullets like we got in our gun, Durkis,” Reck said, “It’s meant for a very special kind of bullet.”

“What did I say about fussin’?” Dusk said.  The two had stopped walking.  The realization washed over Durkis’ face like a tide.

“No…”

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“How’d you get a thing like this?” Reck asked Dusk.

“How do you think one gets one of those?”

“Don’t tell me you’re… nah,” Reck said, “You’re just some dip.  The people who use these,” Reck stared down the barrel of the strange gun, pretending to shoot, making blasting noises as he did, “They got the strength of three men.  They can shoot a falling apple with a gun tied behind their back.  They certainly wouldn’t be piss drunk sleeping outside.”

Dusk looked between the two.  A shadow of something flying overhead providing the only shade as the sun climbed its way to high noon.

“Well, none due disrespect, partner, but you don’t know shit about dick.” Dusk said through a smile.

Reck stopped playing with the gun.  He turned and glared at Dusk, “What was that you say?”

“I said-” Dusk felt a heavy whack to the back of the head.  Durkis had winged him with his own revolver.

“No more lip out of you.  The only reason we don’t strike you unconscious is you’d be too hard to carry.  Get moving.  Reck, enough playing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reck said, placing the gun in his pants pocket, “Let’s take him this way.”  

They dragged him left, and walked him to the outskirts of town.

“So this is where Lyle is?” Dusk asked as he saw the backside of the “Welcome To Breakpoint” 

“We’re not taking you to Lyle.” Reck said, “Just because a no good bounty hunter found themselves a hell of an expensive toy doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous.  You came in from your big city to try to take Lyle away.  You’re lucky we don’t put a bullet in your head right now.”

“We won’t!?” Durkis asked.

“Yeah, I’m with him.  Why don’t you?”

“Because, with every dead bounty hunter comes flies.  We don’t need you sticking around causing a stink.”

Durkis reluctantly gave in and pushed Dusk out onto the other side of the town’s welcoming archway.  Dusk fell to the ground, landing on his hands.  He turned around, still on the ground.

“I think a guy like Lyle, one count of murder.  Two counts of highway robbery.  I think he don’t have much issue with killing bounties.  So why not kill me?  Unless… You two don’t think I’m some dottering drunk.  Reck, was it?  Do you actually believe I could be a Spell Slinger?”

Reck’s eyes squinted a little further.  He stared down Dusk.  Dusk was giving him an unwavering smile back.  The shadows from what must have been a buzzard circling up above occasionally tracing over his face.

 “Well, are ya’ or aren’t ya?”  Reck asked.

“You tell me first.  Where is Lyle located?”

Reck looked at Durkis, “Maybe we do kill him right now.”

Durkis, eager, stuck his gun up and pointed it directly at Dusk, “Let me do it.  He’s bluffing.”

“Admit it.  Are ya or aren’t ya?” Reck demanded again.

“If I’m just some no good bounty hunter, slay me.  If you did kill a Spell Slinger though… that'd be a hanging for everyone on your crew.  Including your precious little Lyle Childers.

Reck’s forehead leaked with sweat.  Durkis was ready to take him out but Reck was weighing the options.

“How come you didn’t pay your bar tab?” Reck asked Dusk, “Rack up one hundred tin in one night.  Bought the whole place a few rounds.  Ain’t that part of your code?  No outstanding debts?”

“I would have gotten to it eventually.” Dusk said, shrugging.

Reck stood quietly.  Thinking to himself.

“Tell you what,” Dusk said, “Tell me your boss’ location and you’ll never see me again.”

“Yeah?” Reck laughed, “You want to know his location just to never be seen again?  Now I know you must be telling the truth.  You’re such a shitty liar.”

Dusk laughed along with Reck, “I guess you’re right.  So you believe me then?”

“Reck, he’s taking you for a fool.  There’s no way this guy’s official,” Durkis said, then, to Dusk, “Show us your badge!”

“Ain’t got one.” Dusk said

“You ain’t got a badge?” Durkis asked.

“Lost it in a poker game.  I’ll get it back.”

Reck and Durkis both looked at each other and burst into utter hysteria.

Reck wiped a tear from his eye, “Now I know you’ve been taking us for a ride.  What kind of idiot would lose his badge?”

Durkis shook his gun, “Now let’s take him out.  He’s a drunken fool.  Still smells like the night before.”

Dusk smelled himself.  Sure enough he needed a bath after this.

Reck said, “Hold on!” He pulled out the Spellslinger and pointed it at Dusk, “Allow me!”

“Third notch,” Dusk said, “It’s a flame spell.  Should burn me right up.  Serve me with rice.”

“Thank you,” Reck said, notching the chamber with his finger until the groove with three ticks lined up with an etched arrow on the side of the frame.  He pointed Dusk’s gun about five inches away from Dusk’s face.

“Any last words?”

“Goodbye, I guess?”

Reck pulled the trigger.