Even before Wolv’s cry had finished resonating through the endless graveyard, he was interrupted by the quiet rhythm of footsteps over the field of bones of weeds. He turned quickly in the direction of the footsteps, swinging the massive blade along with him. The beastly man’s eyes settled upon a man walking towards him, hands busy at work. He was dressed in very simple clothes, draped neck to toe in tough cowhide that was especially thick around the chest and arms, with a wide-brimmed hat adorning his head. Around his waist was a belt made from multiple layers of ammunition from the weapons he held, each bullet and shell custom made for his use. On his back there hung a long rifle, very simple in appearance, but also very effective. In his right hand he held a long, heavy revolver covered in decorative carvings. His other hand was occupied with loading his large revolver with individually selected bullets. Aside from his ammunition, his belt held several simple tools, such as ropes, bandages, and multiple small knives.
By the time he finally reached Wolv, he had finished preparing for the fight, and looked up to observe his opponent. With a cocked eyebrow at the sight of this strange man, the gunfighter retrieved a small cloth and wiped the sweat and sand from his forehead. He shook the dust from his shoulder length black hair, and fingered his revolver as the two examined each other. With a slight chuckle the gunfighter said softly, “Sorry to disappoint, my name is Asnabel. But don’t worry,” he gripped his revolver, ”I’m sure we’ll be able to entertain each other.” With a speed that left the eye useless, Asnabel’s revolver was brought to bear, and three shots rang through the stillness. |