"This was not here last year," the lead man said. He dismounted his horse and opened his jacket slightly; on it was a silver star that read "Sheriff." The man just behind him had another that read "Deputy." The three outdoor types were hanging back, and the office clerk was scribbling on a notepad with a short pencil. He stood out amongst this group.

  "Does anyone remember ever seeing this place when hunting in this area?" He turned to the outdoor types. Two shook their heads that they had not. The third did not move, indicating he was not a local.

  "It is like the two wives said from their story of what happened," The Sheriff mused, his gaze fixed on the gates. The wives' story was crucial to the investigation he was mounting. Their report of this graveyard was the most unbelievable part of their story.

  "Do you think John Rigger is hiding here?" the clerk asked. I thought he might be a reporter, and after a closer look at him and the question, it appeared that he might be. "The Marshals came through looking for him, as he was found to be in the area."

  "Maybe." He paused for a few moments. "Fred, take Smith and Rodriguez. Hebert and Grant with me, we will search in two groups. Make sure your guns are ready if you are attacked. Fire with the intent to kill. John Rigger is a dangerous man, so take no chances."

  The men are getting organised. They tie up their horses and pull out the rifles from their holsters on the saddles. They also have pistols and blades. Apart from the reporter, they all look like they know how to use them.

  "Take any lanterns you have. We might be in there for a few hours. It's getting dark, but we cannot wait for the day if he is." They walked in by opening both gates. I noted the hesitance of the first to enter. The existence of my Dungeon unsettled them. The apparent age of the place was at odds with what they knew of the area they were in.

  "Sheriff Gray, where do you think this place came from?" The reporter, Herbert, asked. "Such a construction could not have gone unnoticed."

  "I do not know the answer to that." He was looking around for threats. "From here on, there will be no questions until we are sure it is safe." Herbert looked unhappy but complied.

  They were now all in the courtyard with the plinth. Herbert read it but did not comment as instructed; he noted it on his pad and looked confused.

  [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!]

  "Whoa, I did not expect that!"

  This changed things, as Rigger might not be as outnumbered as I had thought. But who?

  Looking over them again, I found myself drawn to Rodriguez. I was initially unsure, but the more I watched, the more I got a feel for him. The others were always standing slightly apart from him. I could be wrong, as they were all white, and he seemed Mexican. This changed as I realised they subconsciously saw him as a danger. Was he the one?

  He was about five feet eight inches tall, with long, greasy hair sporting no beard but two large sideburns running straight down his jaw. His face was pox-marked, and his skin was weather-beaten. He was dressed for outdoor living and heavily armed. The weapon that stood out to me was the tomahawk in his belt. Not the weapon I would have expected.

  "Look, a chapel. Maybe we should have a look." He said, and he pointed to the building in the distance. His accent confirmed his heritage, but he spoke English rather well. The others all looked to the sheriff.

  "Fred, take a look. Then, if it is empty, head south and search the buildings you find." Gray addressed the deputy. Here, they split, with Gray going north and his deputy cutting across the graves towards the church.

  [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.]

  "And so, it begins," I said to myself. I reached out and connected to Rigger. "They have split into two groups of three. One is heading north. The other is cutting straight through to the church; shadow that group, but wait, something might be happening that will help you."

  "Understood." He replied.

  I watched the group, led by Deputy Fred, walk to the church with the group. They had a good hour of light, but the shadows were lengthening across the area. They were moving at a steady pace, keeping alert to their surroundings. Rodriguez was playing his part, but his focus was on the church. It took time to cross the half mile to the church.

  Once he reached it, he turned north to the doors. Fred and Smith followed his lead. The doors were opened, and he walked in. Behind him, the others followed. With his back to them, they did not see the look of joy that passed his features at the sight of the altar.

  "Yeah, I know you were the one."

  The men crossed the room, still tense, looking for dangers apart from Rodriguez.

  "Dear God, look at the blood stains," Fred saw them for the first time. This attracted Smith's attention from the altar, and he paled at the sight. Rodriguez's eyes never left the statue or altar, but he heard what the deputy said.

  "Amigo, you might need the Sheriff to see this."

  "Good idea. Smith, head out, find the Sheriff, and bring him back here." Smith seemed unhappy with the task as he turned and left. Fred was focused on the stains and did not see that Rodriguez had turned slightly to watch Smith leave.

  "Rigger got someone leaving to head north. Intercept him if you can."

  "From this blood, how many died here?" Fred asked. He had removed his hat and was wiping his brow. He did not see as his back was turned; he did not see the hand reaching out and touching the altar.

  [Potential Hunter: Hector Rodriguez. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers one sacrifice to you.]

  [Do you accept: Yes or No.]

  "Yes."

  My view of the world warped, and he shimmered. Fred was still too engrossed to notice any of this. Once done, Rodriguez pulled the tomahawk from his belt, turning, he rammed it into the back of Fred's skull. The man was too shocked to do anything but collapse to his knees. The tomahawk was pulled out, and several more strikes collapsed the skull and scattered brain matter and blood around the church and altar.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  Outside, Smith was moving north but had been intercepted by Rigger. Ambushed from behind, he was unable to do anything as he was stabbed multiple times, bringing his life to an end.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  "Good work, Rigger, hide the body the best you can."

  I turned my attention to my newest Hunter. I opened his status sheet.

  "Sadistic Rapist? Why can't I just get a plain and simple mass murderer!"

  I focused and then connected with him.

  "Welcome, Hunter Rodriguez. We have much to discuss, but first, we must deal with the Sheriff and two with him."

  "Thank you, amigo." He replied.

  "There is another Hunter outside. Even with him, you are outnumbered, so surprise is your best option here."

  "That's Good to know. I will bring them this way. I have a plan. I will lure them in, and we will kill them," he said.

  "Very well."

  I watched him leave the church. He was covered in the brain matter of Deputy Fred. The direct approach was out. He pointed his rifle into the sky and fired it off. He quickly walked inside and lay down on the floor to the other side of his kill and played dead.

  I told Rigger to be ready as the others were on their way to the building. The shot will have attracted their attention. I looked north and picked them out as they were heading south.

  "Right, let's see what they are going to do."

  I was worried about the lack of coordination between the two. They had no interactions, and they were not in the sink. I told Rigger what I thought Rodriguez was planning and what he needed to prepare for. When it started, things would happen fast if they were going to win this one.

  The group arrived at the church several minutes later. Rigger was hiding, and Rodriguez was ready for his ambush. Rigger had moved closer to the door, prepared to join in with the killing. He started shadowing them as they passed him outside.

  Sheriff Gray entered the church first with his rifle braced against his shoulder, looking for a target. Herbert and Grant were close on his heels, guns ready. He spotted the two bodies in the church and moved further in. Concern warring with alertness for the attacker.

  Rigger moved up behind them while they were distracted. Gray moved over to the body of his deputy. Kneeling, he looked over the dead man. Herbert saw the remains turned and threw up. Grant was focused on what was happening within the room. Rigger was closing in. Herbert's retching helped distract the other man from what was behind him.

  Gray stood away from the body and approached Herbert, who was still retching. Grant was standing in the doorway with his back to the outside. Rigger took the opportunity that was presented. He got up close and grabbed Grant by wrapping him around the neck, pulling him back out of the building. He stabbed into his flank as he did.

  This pulled Gray's attention to the doorway as Rodriguez rose from the floor. Gray moved to the doorway but was attacked from behind by Rodriguez. The tomahawk swung up between his legs, catching him in his genitals.

  I never knew that a man could scream like that as the blade went deep and was then violently pulled back. Gray collapsed from the injury and pain, still crying as he clutched his ruined manhood. Herbert was looking around at the fighting like a deer in headlights. His face was pale, and his eyes were large, puke-covered his lower face and front of his clothes. He pissed himself, letting his emotions control him. He turned tail and ran. Fear was driving him, as flight was the controlling factor in his mind at that moment. He ran past the pair fighting outside and headed for the gates.

  The fighting, no, the ambush, was going very well.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  Grant was the first to go. Rigger got up and went up after the runner. Gray took longer as Rodriguez toyed with him. He lived up to the sadistic part of his dark trait. I could step in and have it end, but I chose not to. He lasted several more minutes before blood loss did him in. Another large puddle was spreading out across the floor.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  I shifted my view to the runner Rigger was chasing, but Herbert was far faster, as fear drove him to heights of surprising speed. He got to the gates and ran through them to his horse. He untied it, jumped into the saddle, and rode for his life.

  "You lost him, Rigger; he was too fast. Collect the saddles and packs, and then release the horses. Apart from that horse, second from the left. Bring it in to carry the load." I pointed out Rodriguez's horse.

  He walked out and got to work. Returning to the church, I needed to speak with Rodriguez. Some things needed to be explained.

  "Rodriguez, I have several rules that you need to know…."

  By the time Rigger arrived with the loot, I had explained my rules and assigned the closet building to the south. I took my due and let the others split the rest. Everything left was put into the northern storeroom, the guns and valuables were put into the other rooms. I separated the Dungeon into two zones and assigned a Hunter to each.

  Rodriguez started burying the kills he made. Rigger did his next, as I had only one shovel. This took them into the night. When they had finished, they retired. I went to the top of the bubble and looked over the dark land. I watched the trail to Crossway. If there was going to be trouble, that was the direction it would come from.

  The day came, and my Hunters did not emerge from their lairs until later in the day. I could see them from above but did not interact with them. I noted that they avoided each other. That was expected, so I did not try to have them spend time interacting.

  The day wore on, and the weather was…

  [Alert! Infamy (Local) changed from Whispers > Stories.]

  "Well, Herbert made it back to town. What will this mean for me."

  Rodriguez had released his horse into the wild. I settled into waiting for the next visitor or visitors. The days and nights passed; things were quiet. I watched the limited traffic along the road. Wagons and riders were moving both ways, but no one was turning up my track. Some were taking longer than they should to pass by, which got me thinking about why.

  "Rodriguez, go for a walk and have a look around. Tell me if you find anything."

  He went willingly, as he was a bit bored. He had set up his lair and dug through the storeroom for additional items. He was gone for a few hours and returned a few hours later.

  "Keeper, I found signs warning people not to go up the trail. I have taken them down."

  "Thanks for that. I will need you to check on that once a week. Let's hope that's the worst of it."

  Days turned to weeks. The weather turned to get wetter, and the leaves changed colour, falling off most of the trees so after. Then the snow started. More signs appeared and were removed. The snows got heavier, and my Hunters stopped emerging from their lairs. They were effectively hibernating.

  The winter was soon in full force; snowstorms rolled off the mountains across the forest and plains. Traffic stopped along the road, and my days had become of staring out at a white sea; the nights had the light reflecting the snow lighting the area. I had exhausted my mental music catalogue, so I started again for the fourth time.

  The winter eventually passed, and spring arrived. The snow slowly receded, and the green returned to the land. People started travelling the road again.

  Spring continued, and the traffic got heavier. More wagons were traversing the track, heading to Crossway. Few people were heading in the other direction, but much fewer in number. Rodriguez went back to checking the road for signs. A few were found and removed.

  One day, I spotted a figure moving up the trail to the gates of the Dungeon.

  "Finally, who are you?"

  The rider came into view of the gates and continued to ride forward. Dressed in rugged clothing, he was dust-covered and appeared to have been travelling for some time.

  He got off the horse and tied it up. He was a man in his mid-twenties and clean-shaven. He walked to the gates and walked in. He read the plinth and turned and left. He set up a camp and settled in.

  He waited until most of the day passed. Closer to dusk, he put out the fire he was sitting next to. He returned to the gates. He paused, took a breath and gathered himself. He had no guns but a cavalry sword.

  "A cavalry sword?"

  He stepped into the Dungeon through the gates. He turned to the south and began walking the path.

  [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

  Right, I get to sit back and watch this. My Hunters knew the Challenger was in play, who was in Rodriguez's zone. He was up and moving, stalking the intruder in his territory. The Challenger drew his sword and followed the path seeking the church at the Dungeon's centre. He was walking with a lit lantern held in his other hand. It was getting darker, and the lantern light was getting stronger as the natural light faded.

  The light drew Rodriguez to the Challenger like a moth to the flame. He was on the right path and was making good progress. Rodriguez was watching him, studying him for an opening or weakness. I could not interfere with this, so I just relaxed and watched.

  The Challenger walked on, aware of his surroundings, looking for danger. Rodriguez was good at stalking, using the terrain to his advantage. He was moving closer minute by minute. He had his tomahawk out and ready for use.

  The church was in sight; the Challenger had crossed into Rigger's territory, but as Rodriguez was hunting him, he would stay out of it. If he fails, then Rigger will get his chance.

  He moved. He was coming in fast, trying to rush him. The Challenger was more aware than I thought. He spun around and raised his sword in a blocking motion; he caught the tomahawk as it swung down.

  Sidestepping, he took Rodriguez off balance. He was soon on the defensive as the Challenger began striking out at him. The sword gave him the length advantage in the fight. Rodriguez was in trouble but was still in the fight he was not backing down.

  The tomahawk was not designed to be used in a fight like he was. The sword got through his defences, cutting his upper arm. It was shallow, but it was the first hit that was scored.

  Rigger was watching from the side, enjoying the show.

  Rodriguez snarled at being wounded and attacked the challenger with renewed ferocity. His strikes were fast and brutal. The Challenger was now on the defensive. The sword was being held sideways to block the strikes, and the sounds of metal striking echoed around the area.

  The fight would turn again if Rodriguez did not do something to take dominance.

  He made to strike again, which his opponent braced to meet, but stepped in, closing the distance between them. It was risky with the sword blade between them, but he appeared to take the Challenger by surprise. His leg kicked out and up, catching his opponent in the groin. The whoosh of air from his lungs was audible as he doubled over.

  The tomahawk ended the fight by connecting with the back of the Challenger's head. Repeatedly.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  "He has a definite thing about men's groins."

  I connected with him.

  "Well done. There is a horse outside."

  Rodriguez collected the horse's packs and moved the saddle. He sent it on its way with a slap to its hindquarters. He walked back and drooped everything off in the church. He picked up the shovel from the building, and I had Rigger leave it in the room with all the guns. He picked out a grave and started digging. When he finished the grave, he dragged the body over and looted it before dumping it in. Then, he refilled the hole, taking him several hours into the night.

  Everything was laid out and accounted for in the church. I looked over it all. The weapons and valuables went into their corresponding rooms. Rodriguez claimed the food, bottle of alcohol and tobacco. The rest went into storage.

  "Congratulations on your kill one more, and you move to the next level." I was in a talkative mood.

  "Kind words, Keeper." He was not very talkative often. Well, so was Rigger, come to think of it.

  "I will be seeking a new storeroom soon as the first is filling. Mainly with saddles and travel packs."

  "Burning them or not gathering them would deal with the problem."

  "Yes, both options could work. For the moment, we continue."

  "Why collect them at all?" He asked.

  "It is harder to identify a horse that is running free that it was once owned if it has no saddle."

  He nodded in understanding of my logic.

  "Pardon me; I seek to rest. It is late."

  "Sleep well."

  I disconnected from him and went back to my spot. I watched him walk back to his layer with his booty and close the door behind him. Rigger had gone back to him as soon as the fight ended.

  I check my sheet.

  "One more kill for me as well."