A quick piece of Fan-Fiction for the miniatures adventure game, Shadows of Brimstone, by Flying Frog Productions.
The stranger arrived at Barkerville with the unique honor of being the only person riding into the town, against the tide of travelers fleeing in the opposite direction as fast as their horse or carriage could carry them.
Along his journey, he had passed many of the town’s former residents, each in turn giving out a warning to pass it by, or better yet, to turn back and save his soul from “that accursed hellhole”. Even now as he rode into the town proper, the stranger could see that those few people still out and about their business were hurriedly packing what they could onto wagons and carts in preparation for leaving Barkerville for good.
Regardless of their haste, one by one, the townspeople stopped what they were doing as he passed them by, and cautiously watched the stranger guide his horse down the middle of the dusty hard-packed street and up to the local saloon. Whether he didn’t notice, or just didn’t care, he paid no attention to the stares of the gathering crowd as he dismounted from his horse, tied its reigns to the nearby hitching post, and calmly walked up the steps and through the bar’s swinging doors.