The Cursed Night

You nod, talking to your mental host: "The sooner we get away from this killing, the safer we will be."

Your tired feet continue walking between the rugged river bank, following the road in parallel, but far enough away, to hide quickly if you must.

Soon, you see a group moving furtively along the road without any kind of light, in complete silence and with dark clothes the only thing that stands out is the silver star of a ranger in the vest of a plump and small man almost reminds you of Humpty dumpty.

One of them armed with a small dragon addresses Humpty reverently pulling out his hat, however, his tone is reproachful:

"Are you sure the southern band flees to California through the main road, boss?

The ranger looks at him resentfully closing his tiny eyes to the point where a pig reminds you. Finally, he responds to the man with a strong and steely voice full of pride:

"I am sure of my paid skulkers. Our foes, The damn southerners who sabotaged the last shipment of Virgin City silver to Boston isp loaded with powder and nitroglycerine back to California. New York mining companies are the ones who feed us with their bribes. We have to liquidate them before that they take away our bonus."

The men keep wandering around the area. You sigh. Sooner or later they will find the wagon and the corpses expanded throughout the area and they will undoubtedly start investigating the entire area until there is no stone left unturned.

Murray whispers worriedly: "You should take advantage to kill his leader, steal his horse. That will limit his margin of action."
You cannot avoid moving in circles, feeling how your muscles tense and your heart beats at maximum speed. Kill him or not, it can be your salvation or instigate a Manzer jacket.

Choose whatever you choose, it will undoubtedly have consequences. I can always become the victim fleeing the crime scene.
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