• He had been walking for years it seemed. Well maybe not years, but it had been years since the world had essentially ended. It ended in no way that was expected. When man invented the steam engine and harnessed electricity things changed suddenly; it was as if the world, seated in magic and the old ways began to rebel. Great dust clouds rolled over the whole planet engulfing it, blowing away all but the strongest structures and places. Not even the great forests to the north, where the elves came from survived this global catastrophe.

    He had been on this planet for ages. He couldn’t actually remember how long at this point. The world had ended, that’s what mattered. He had been sent millennia ago to oversee the growth of man, him and several others. Yet he had turned from that task, rejecting it out of hatred and resentment. That left him on his own, hunted and isolated. A pariah.

    He stepped up on the train tracks and looked both ways down them into the emptiness of this God-forsaken planet. He kneeled down and examined the tracks. They weren’t rusted and the wood hadn’t started to disintegrate. He had found one of the few remaining rail lines in the world. He stood back up straightening and looked both ways again and sighed.

    He turned right, arbitrarily, no reason in his mind, no thought he just did it. He started walking down the tracks, down the center following them with a mindless sense of undefined purpose.

    He had been following them for days now, he didn’t bother to count, time was pointless to hm. He stopped, somewhere in the distance there was a camp. He hopped down off the raised tracks and began to walk towards it quietly, stoically. He needed to trade.

    Magrim sat in front of the fire cleaning his goggles. He groaned. This was a s**t camp, for a s**t region, on a s**t planet. The others in the camp weren’t well known to him. Most of them human, but there was also an orc, and a dark elf with him, he himself was a dwarf and had been hired on to help run the shipment of illegal goods to the next city over….Where ever that truly was, they were following the tracks.

    The stranger appeared through the dust as if a ghost and the whole group stood up raising various weapons. Magrim pulled his revolver off his pack and flipped the revolving chamber back into the weapon, it was half loaded but that would be fine for one person. The stranger was tall and imposing. He was wearing a set of dark goggles on his head; his mouth and chin were wrapped in a heavy wool scarf that fluttered in the wind behind him. It looked like he was wearing fifty pounds worth of clothes, his massive jacket seemed to just make him that more imposing, it was brown, knee length and flapping in the wind. It was open in the front revealing a tan vest with a dirty white shirt underneath. His heavy leather pants were a dark tan color and ended in a pair of heavy combat boots that were extremely worn from the years of walking in them.