Hey, you okay there pal? Those winds can be hell sometimes.
I remember when I first blew into town. "Blew" is the correct word, too, no one in their right mind ever walks or rides in, unless they have a Fetter in the area.
You see, the winds around here are a little screwy. I know the old joke about them, "Keeping the Maelstrom away," but I personally think they're just another version of the Storm. I reckon a dust storm is just as much a storm as a thunderstorm.
But I'll get to the winds here in a second. What was I carrying on about? Oh yeah, when I blew into town.
I'm originally from Christoval, you see. I try to get back out there whenever I can, but that ain't very often these days. Me and my buddies had been out partying, and of course, Christoval being the tiny little place it is, drinking. I mean, when you live in a town of fifteen hundred people, what else is there to do on a Saturday night, other than get shitfaced?
Well, my buddies and I piled into my truck... What? Yeah, I know, bad idea, but I was too drunk to know. That's not how I died either. We all went out to the equalization channel to light some fireworks. For me, light fuse and get away turned into light fuse and pass out. It'd be a really dumb way to go if I had been blown to bits, instead I was just set on fire. I probably could have survived that whole mess too had my buddies had the sense about them to drive me to San Angelo and then to the hospital. But no, they panicked, and in the alcohol-laden chaos, I died of third degree burns in the flatbed of my truck, on the way back to Christoval.
At first, I didn't know what to make of my situation. I'm pretty sure I was being blown just West of Hell, while still inside my caul. It wasn't until a few days later some kindly old fellow took it off for me. You see, they have these big nets all over the Necropolis to help catch folks like me and you that blow into town. They say back before the storm, when there were real honest to God cowboys in the Necropolis, they used to lasso airborne wraiths.
This place wasn't much to look at first, but I'm getting used to it now. There's cow shit everywhere, and apparently every time someone gets the crazy idea to clean it up, it just comes back, one pile at a time. No cows around, but it always comes back.
Liquor bottles are everywhere, too. Like I said, not much to do in small towns other than drink. That's what San Angelo was all about in the beginning anyway, didn't you know that?
Here, let me help you out of this net. Yeah, it does look a lot like a dream catcher, doesn't it? It's a new design, I hear. They used to have a huge problem with catching Spectres. They would get caught up just like any Wraith would. And let me tell you, you did not want to be around when one of those bastards had to be freed.
I hear these catch Spectres too sometimes, but they're guaranteed not to catch the worst thing you could imagine: a tumblespectre. Funny sounding name, isn't it? Someone told me once they were Wraiths that the old mayor punished by moliating into tumbleweeds. Sounds like a pretty harsh punishment, don't it? Blowing around with no one but your Shadow to keep you company. They didn't really seem to cause much of a ruckus before the Great Dust Storm, but afterwards, they were all on fire.
What do you mean, "fire my ass"? They were all on fire! I swear! Coldest fire you'll ever encounter, too, I'm told.
Anyway, let's get you in and dust you off. Then we can have ourselves some liquid pathos. Like I said, ain't much to do in a small town, other than drink...
