10:13 AM, 26th of June, 2502.

The little quiet town of Primafrontier, one of the very first towns to be formed in Ravage after the 12 major cities settled. It was formed by the poor of one of the bigger cities, seeking their own place in life away from the larger picture. And so they made it. A simple little town of families, law abiders and decent businessmen. It seldom got more nieve than Primafrontier.

The town itself was mostly built with Slakestone, cheap and easy housing with wooden shutters. The saloon was their primary form of income from weary travelers stopping to drink or take it nice and easy. They had an apothecary who doubled as a doctor for the bigger incidents and if anyone needed a cure for poisoning or a broken leg. They had a post office that would recieve from the Bridgeington postal service, still the best service in all of Ravage. They had a small farm too, your average selection of cattle and a couple of fields of crops that needed water very often. Whilst Ravage was a dry as hell desert, it did get the occasional spot of rain.

In this sleepy little town, a man could find himself a good drink and good company. A man could settle and relax... or, a man could seek out why so many of the buildings seem to have bullet holes cracked into them as of late...

9:45 AM

Walking down the dry and dusty road, a young figure, dark in tone, lean built, and carrying something strapped to his back, was strolling through the desert hoping to find a settlement to rest his weary feet. He was reaching for his canteen to get a drink of whatever water he had left, only to realize the canteen was empty. Looking at it was a little annoyance in his eyes, he put the canteen away almost to curse the desert for ever existing.

Benny just came from another settlement that was about 3 and a half days walking distance away. Recently he had to put down some riffraff that were causing a commotion. 4 men dead, 1 alive but incarcerated. Originally he was in that settlement to make money using his music but ended up fighting and the worst part about it was that these men didn't even have a bounty on them so either way, Benny didn't get paid...except for the few meager heads and faces.

Hoping that whatever settlement he ran into next, he would make a killing, Benny saw something in the distance. Yes, it his eyes finally set it's sights on another settlement. Being out in the desert for these last 3 and a half days, he hoped it wasn't a mirage but he was going to find out....

Now....

Benny was just walking into the quiet little town of Primafrontier, looking around and noticing a few people. Seeing the sign of the saloon across the street, Benny was wondering if he'd even make anything here, as the bullet holes in the buildings must've told him in his mind that there have been a bit of trouble before. How often did criminals come through here? Well, Benny was in need of money and info about this place, so he headed for the saloon first, not only for the info but.....he was thirsty as hell.

The saloon, also known as the "Dead Horse" complete with a fitting sign of a horse's head with cartoon x's in its eyes, wasn't too packed for this time of day. The place sure smelt musty, a certain aging and the slakestone walls when mixed with alcohol. Inside it was more or less what you'd expect from this kind of place, old wooden flooring, mostly scrap stuff by the looks of how different each board was from the ones surrounding it, a stone bar with stools set up before it, a few assorted tables with various men drinking from glasses and playing cards. A piano also stood in the corner, but at present was unmanned and looking somewhat forlorn without its player. He didn't get too much attention from the locals when he strolled in, they were all too busy.

At the bar himself, he found a bartender dressed up smart with a balding noggin, standing in front of a line of glasses on the shelf and a few choice selections of alcohol. To the right side of the bar, he could see a wanted board of various bounties and criminals, put up by the Hunter's Association. If he wanted bounty work, this was where he'd find it.

"What'll it be, pal?" the bartender greeted him. "Perhaps some Licorashe Beer or Cider? Or you want something stiffer?" He kept an amiable air to him, the guy probably got tips often enough to make him this happy about a run of the mill job.