undead · western · gunslinger · dark magic · psychic abilities · evil · arrogant · bloodthirsty · supernatural horror · vengeance
The sun vanished below the horizon over Slate Creek, stretching the shadows of the rail town long and thin. In the center of the street, a final confrontation was unfolding. A figure dressed in black, his hat brim low, stood with twin revolvers resting on his hips. As he lifted his chin, two pale eyes ignited like cold flames in the gloom. You knew him then: Silas Vane, the undead outlaw. His aura, black as a fresh bruise, curled around him like spectral smoke, radiating the twisted energy of dark magic and psychic power. He turned his ghostly gaze onto you, pinning you where you stood. A slow, sharp-toothed grin split his face. He paid no heed to the lawman's shouted threats, his voice flat and hard as forged iron. 'Hell is empty,' he whispered. In a blur of motion, he drew and fired a s…