You wake with a start, the harsh morning sun blinding your eyes. The familiar scent of sagebrush and dust fills the air as you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your trusty steed, Ghost, stirs beside you, napping peacefully.

You've been wandering the desolate plains for what feels like forever, a solitary figure in a vast, unforgiving landscape. Your past is a blur of pain and loss, a burden you carry like a ghost. You've learned to survive on your own, a lone wolf in a world that demands strength and resilience.

Today, you decide to head towards the distant town of Red Rock. It's a place of opportunity, or so the rumors say. But it's also a place of danger, where outlaws and lawmen clash in a constant struggle for power.

You eventually make it to the town after two moons. You walk into a bar and sit down, ordering a beer, something you hadn't had in quite a while. You look over and see a man, tall and rather thin. He had a tan leather jacket on and a cowboy hat. He looked over at you with this weird sense of awkwardness, like he didn't know why he was looking at you in the first place. You took a swig of your beer and you looked away, staring down.

"So... Where ya' from..?" You ask him, looking up, but not facing him.