Just before the sun crept over the dusty horizon, Wyatt was up and sipping on his stale coffee. The world outside was waking up with him, horse hooves kicking up dust, and the distant barking of some dogs. Wyatt was a simple man, hunting down bounties within the Arizona territories and riding back to a one-room shack called home. As Wyatt sat in front of his shack, he contemplated retiring and living a life of peace going forward, although he didn't believe he deserved such a luxury. Rolling his shoulders, Wyatt could feel the weight of his leather gun belt as he stood up, his Colt revolvers clung to his sides as always.

Wyatt thought today would be just like any other scattered among the journey of his life, however he'd soon learn that Fate had other plans for him. Just as he took a step off his porch, clouds as dark as the night sky began to swirl above, lightning crackled while the ground began to shake. As lightning struck the desert ground in front of Wyatt, he held up his hand to keep from being blinded and as he lowered it, a small carrion crow stood where the lightning had once been.

Not believing his own eyes, Wyatt blinked in disbelief, though he didn't move an inch back towards his shack. Once he looked back towards the crow, it was gone and in its place a beautiful woman was standing before him, he could practically feel her charcoal eyes inspecting his very soul. His resolve hardening, he grabbed a hold of his hat, placing it on his head as he asked, "Am I dying? If not, just what and who are you?" As he stood there, one of his palms twitched, as if getting ready to shoot a goddess.

These words followed by his palm twitching actually made Morrigan chuckle before speaking, "I'm not here for your soul, McCallum, as for what I am, I'm the goddess of War, Fate, and Death. You may call me Morrigan." Her words were both a whisper on the wind and a bombastic crackle of thunder. As her words linger in his mind, he asks, "Alright Morrigan, what is a goddess like you, talking to the likes of me for?" Taking a few steps forward, Morrigan simply said, "You've been chosen as my champion, acting as my Hand and Will on earth. You'll protect those who've requested my aid and vanquish those who seek the annihilation of my people."

Wyatt leaned against the door frame to his shack before asking, "Now why would I do that, Morrigan?" His words meant to test the goddess. Morrigan snapping at him, " You don't have a choice, McCallum. I have seen many worlds and in all of them, you seek a peaceful life after taking so many others. With the purpose I've now given you, in the end, you may find that peace you so desperately seek. " Her words had the proper effect on Wyatt, turning his mood crestfallen. Looking up at the goddess, Wyatt made one demand before he accepted his Fate, "My horse over there, Specter, he's rode with me for the last ten years. If I've gotta kill some more for a chance at peace, he's coming with me."

Smiling victoriously, Morrigan told Wyatt, "If it will ease your journey, then so be it." As Morrigan's smile subsided, she took a step forward and laid her hand over Wyatt's chest. Suddenly time slowed to a halt, the handles to his signature Colts were engraved with runes that would empower the Champion of Morrigan when the time came for violence. His heart was also marked with a rune, one that would grant the mighty champion with a power so great that even without his guns, it would seem that Morrigan herself returned to the battlefield.

For a moment the world around him felt like it was being torn to pieces, the desert, the horizon, his shack, Specter. When Wyatt awoke, his heart was racing and lungs gasping for air as if he were drowning. The air was cold, much colder than anything he'd felt in The States, gone was the dry suffocating heat of Arizona; that much was certain. Struggling to his feet, his dizziness was beginning to wear off as his boots got settled in the damp ground. His well-worn duster and wide brimmed hat that had seen it's fair share of gunfights were both untouched and intact. The more Wyatt looked around him, the more the world around him seemed alien, although he'd soon hear a very familiar neigh nearby.

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Walking past several massive trees, Wyatt laid his eyes upon a very welcome sight, "Specter you big, beautiful bastard, and I say that with love; you know me." Stepping forward, Wyatt pet Specter's jet black forelock. Looking around their surroundings, Wyatt noticed a thick fog that crept up on both him and Specter, engulfing the entire forest. "Buck up Specter, seeing as that crow lady was real, there ain't no telling what might try to take our head out here." Taking hold of the reins, Wyatt leads Specter through the dense fog while paranoia slowly set in, although nothing attacked them. As they broke through the dense fog, the first thing Wyatt could see were crumbling stone towers over the treetops. Journeying closer to the ruins, it became clear this fortress was abandoned and ransacked long ago. Granted the air around the fortress was heavy with suffering and strife, though Wyatt could do nothing for the people who once inhabited it, perhaps he find something that'll tell him where he was exactly.

While Wyatt walked through the busted gate, he could see the cracks throughout the structure of the main wall. If he didn't already guess that these were ruins, the ivy and vines overtaking most of the fortress would tell him all he needed to know now. "That front door is completely blocked, I'm not getting in through there...with all this damn ivy, I'm not so sure I want to get in there." He muttered to himself as he thought of what to do now. Interrupting his thoughts was the crackle of some vines nearby, immediately Wyatt whipped out one of his Colt's and pointed in the direction of the noise. "I heard that, now come out nice and slow or I will send you to the Great Hereafter."

On the other side of the overgrown courtyard, a man wrapped up in furs emerged from the shadows. The man spoke, although his words were harsh, guttural, and old, Gaelic. Wyatt didn't understand a word of it and let the man know, "I don't understand what you're saying friend." The mysterious man's brow relaxed as he spoke again, "So you're an Englishman?" All Wyatt could think was, oh thank fuck.

"I speak English, but I ain't British. Now that you've asked your question, here's mine, I don't suppose you're here to kill me are you?" The man covered in fur simply laughed before answering Wyatt, "No Stranger, I was sent out here to scout for invaders, I even started tracking some marauders. Then the fog came, consuming the marauders and I, now we're here." He said as he eyed the fortress up and down. Holstering his gun, Wyatt couldn't help, but ask, "So you know where we are?"

The man covered in furs confirmed, "The Ruins of Dun Lachlan, this was once a mighty fortress till a group of travelling druids came through here, no one knows what spells they cast or what they did to the bodies of the men here. In a single afternoon, an entire clan of men, women, and children were gone. Anyway, that's history," Walking forward the man spoke, "The name's Duncan, Duncan MacLeod of Clan MacLeod." Holding out his hand, Wyatt responded, "Wyatt McCall or McCallum or if you'd like. It's nice to make your acquaintance, perhaps-" Interrupting his words were whispers carried by the wind, instinctively Wyatt rested his right hand on the handle of his Colt revolver, Duncan had even gotten ready to pull his sword out as the whispers only got louder. "Duncan, I might have an idea what happened to that clan..." Before Wyatt could muster an explanation, a loud banging could be heard at the front door to the castle within the fortress, although it was covered in vines and some ivy, there also appeared to be a glowing rune covering the entrance. The door then flung open, old corpses covered in tattered clothes and torn kilts slowly made their way through the doorway, their eye sockets carrying a strange emerald glow within them.

Wyatt drew his Colt's as Duncan drew his Claymore long-sword, Wyatt simply smirked knowing damn well he was no scout. Though they may not fully trust one another, they had to in this situation, for if one thing could ensure cooperation, it was mutual survival.