>>5791765>>5791851>>5791890You had a hunch he'd be at the old town hall, like in those old timey cowboy movies...
As you walk up to the second largest building, you see a muscular asian man with a bandana standing proudly in front of it, his back turned to you and surrounded by mauled corpses... It doesn't seem like the job of a blade, however. The bodies had many holes, and sometimes torn limbs, but not a single clean cut...
"...Beautiful, ain't it, missy?" He even speaks with a thick texan accent. Incredible.
https://youtu.be/EHaI5Ruy2EY"...So I take it you're number 8?" You ask, stepping closer, patience wearing thin. "Never been much of a fan of cowboys, or southerners..."
He doesn't seem phased by your challenge. "They say my grandpappy built this here hall with his own bare hands. Sweat, blood, wood n' steal... People these days don't understand those things. They simply don't, no siree..."
You don't wanna put up with his old man talk anymore, even if doesn't look that much older than you are. "So, why here? Did you want to come die at your hometown? With your ancestors? Because I'll be glad to make it so..." Though, if you look around, this town <span class="mu-i">was</span> still on fire. "In fact, your old town seems to be eager to die with you, too."
You hear him chortle, still not being able to face you it seems.
"Hoo-wee! 'Least ya got that one thing right. Ya see, men like me, we don't die without honor. Without a duel. Like vikings. There is honor, in blood... Once ya understand that, you realize bein' a killer ain't a luxury... It's man's duty... So dinky stupid lil' girls like ya don't get their hands dirty..."
"Ooh, but yer a dirty one, ain'tcha?"
How are you even supposed to reply to that?!
>Write in only. 