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- Spirits of Vengeance
[An envelope arrives in the mail, visibly scoured by the brownish-red sands of Mesa Roja. It has been handled so many times and by so many unkind fingers that the envelope is crinkled, worn and brittle. Unfolding it, grains of sand fall out and spill onto the ground, the faint stench of tobacco filling the air.
The letter itself is written on a piece of cheap parchment in silvery graphite. The hand-writing is a fluid, spidery scrawl, the cursive letters seeming like a river carving its way across the page. There is some smudged evidence of several words being erased and rewritten.]
Dear Mr. King,
Can’t rightly recall your name at the moment, but I reckon you’ll know that this letter’s meant for you once you get to reading it, all the same. You seem like a smart man.
Strange as it may seem, I figured I'd apologize for shooting you, even though I suspect you'd agree it was justifiable, given the circumstances. It was an unlucky thing that we came across each other on that island, and I tend to not be too terrible of a shot. You have my genuine condolences for that, mister.
That being established, I'm sure you know that I ain't only writing to you to offer an apology. Since we last exchanged words... and bullets, I'd say I've come to learn quite a few interesting things about these Crossroads. You might also be surprised to learn that I value civility and pleasantries as much as the next man, when there's the occasion for it, and I wanted to invite you for a nice sit-down over drinks, if it would please you. Whenever I make it out your way, in any event.
You ever been in a saloon, partner? Don't reckon that'd be the kind of place a king such as yourself would visit often. Might be a novel experience, I guess.
Yours truly,
Arthur Morgan
The letter itself is written on a piece of cheap parchment in silvery graphite. The hand-writing is a fluid, spidery scrawl, the cursive letters seeming like a river carving its way across the page. There is some smudged evidence of several words being erased and rewritten.]
Dear Mr. King,
Can’t rightly recall your name at the moment, but I reckon you’ll know that this letter’s meant for you once you get to reading it, all the same. You seem like a smart man.
Strange as it may seem, I figured I'd apologize for shooting you, even though I suspect you'd agree it was justifiable, given the circumstances. It was an unlucky thing that we came across each other on that island, and I tend to not be too terrible of a shot. You have my genuine condolences for that, mister.
That being established, I'm sure you know that I ain't only writing to you to offer an apology. Since we last exchanged words... and bullets, I'd say I've come to learn quite a few interesting things about these Crossroads. You might also be surprised to learn that I value civility and pleasantries as much as the next man, when there's the occasion for it, and I wanted to invite you for a nice sit-down over drinks, if it would please you. Whenever I make it out your way, in any event.
You ever been in a saloon, partner? Don't reckon that'd be the kind of place a king such as yourself would visit often. Might be a novel experience, I guess.
Yours truly,
Arthur Morgan