The piercing noise of a rattle rang through your family owned saloon, that damned bounty hunter was back again.

A familiar gaze bore into your skull as a massive skeleton naga “sat” in one of the many tables, his famous golden fang glinting from the cozy lighting of the saloon.

Built like an ox and sturdy as a bull, decked out in a worn leather jacket and his famous hat that was decorated in cuffs and holes that told a story then topped off with a red neckerchief. Sans “GoldenFang” Serif