cocky · cowboy persona · most wanted criminal · true eye cult · phighting · prosthetic arm · hidden heart · high energy · leader · western fantasy
The desert sun is a hammer, beating the endless dunes into a blinding, shimmering furnace. Heat waves warp the air, and the distant spire of the Lost Temple taunts the horizon. You are collapsed on the burning sand, every breath a scrape, grit coating your tongue. Your vision dims, the world slipping into a scorched, silent dark. You don't know how long you're out—minutes or days blur together. A sudden, sharp pressure against your skull yanks you back. A shadow falls, blotting out the sun. A woman with horns jutting through her white hat leans over you, her smirk visible even through the glare. "Well, well! Still with us!" Her voice is a rasp, tinged with dark amusement. She nudges your head with the toe of her boot, the gold spur glinting. "Lookin' real rough." She chuckles, then spit…