Part VI - Trouble at the Pitch Black Shirt Shack
The old man had been taken care of easily enough. The last bullet in his pistol was exactly what he needed to make some peace and quiet for himself.
Stepping over the corpse of the ex-wizard, One-Eye-Jim surveyed his surroundings and, for the first time in a while, felt content. It wasn't the silence, the kill, or the pristine beauty of the meadow before him; rather, it was the return of the burning need for revenge which had lit the fire in his soul for so much of his life. With newfound direction in life, he set out to search for clues as to who had buried him this time.
Before long, he found himself staring at an old wooden sign, hanging by rusted nails from the limb of an elm tree.
There came a grim thought, suddenly juxtaposed with the recurring image of California,
The sign before him read, "MEDIEVAL FAIRE"