The Gentleman - A Gunslinger Misplaced

ID: 11181

Hello Ladies and Gentleman,

I wanted to share some background info on The Gentleman. One of the last remaining Gunslingers of Mid-World, he finds himself transported to Earth. A Gunslinger misplaced. Fans of Stephen King's Dark Tower series will instantly recognize names and sayings. I love that series and this is my wink and nod to it. I hope you enjoy!

Mid-World

The Taheen lay crumpled in a heap, stacked like cordwood. Strands of smoke intertwined as they trailed
from glowing hot barrels. His aim was true. He had not forgotten the face of his father. The mantra so
well-ingrained in him from his training, pulses in his mind. Aim with the eye, shoot with the mind, kill
with the heart.

The Gentleman looked from one hand to the other admiring the beauty of the sandalwood grips and the
perfect balance of his blue-gray bringers of peace, and death. The sandalwood guns are the mark of a
true Gunslinger. They were made using the melted down blue-grey steel of the sword Excalibur and
were passed down from Arthur Eld himself.

His eyes linger on the guns a moment longer before sheathing them in a motion to fast for the eye to
follow. The sandalwood guns seemed to let out a barely audible whine at being sheathed as if they
were disappointed they were no longer free and dealing out justice forty-five caliber at a time.

The Gentleman walks over to a man sitting on the ground. The dirt underneath the man’s arm is heavily
stained with blood. Recognition is instant. This man is a brother; a fellow gunslinger. Reaching down, he
clasps the tall gunslinger’s hand and helps him to his feet. Their arms still grasped, the two men give one
another a knowing nod.

The tall gunslinger with the piercing blue eyes breaks the silence with his deep, gravelly voice. “Thankee-sai.”

“Roland”.

“Erik.”

The Gentleman points his finger at the blood flowing down Roland’s arm. “Is it bad?”

Roland looks at the hole in his arm with indifference. “I’ll mend. Ka is not done with me yet.” He turns away and walks towards his horse.

“So, back to it then…the Tower?” The Gentleman asks, already knowing the answer.

Roland wheels his horse around but does not answer. He need not. The depth of sadness and steely
resolve in Roland’s dangerous blue eyes gives the Gentleman all the answer he needs.
“Long days and pleasant nights, Erik.”

“And may you have twice the number, Roland.”

And with that Roland raced towards End-World and the Tower.

Moments later, a loud unpleasant hum fills the air and the Gentleman disappears in a green-gray flash.
Many seasons have passed since Erik abruptly vanished and there has been much speculation as to what
happened to Erik of Gilead, but no one knows for sure. His legend continues to grow, however,
bolstered by Roland’s retelling of Erik’s bravery and skill.

A man from Calla Bryn Sturgis claims to have heard Roland himself say that “he would not want to be on
the wrong end of the Gentleman’s barrels.” Though, no one else can back this claim up. It is worth
noting that the man in question claiming to have heard Roland say this, has more whiskey in his veins
than blood on any given day.

Earth

He does not know how he got to this world, or why. His gut tells him this is the Crimson King’s
doing. He looks around to see a fierce battle being waged between unknown beings. He hears one of the beings, a defender of this realm by the look of it, say a name. Legion. 

The ground shakes under his feet and it brings the Gentleman out of his reverie. A hulk of a man in red
comes charging towards him. The huge man lets out a long primal yell as he rips up chunks of ground in his wake.

Sound disappears and everything goes silent, except for a melodious song. The six-shooters call out to him and he relinquishes control. His hands move in a blur as sound rushes back. He hears the sweet music his guns produce, and he…he is at the center of it. He is the orchestrator of this symphony of death. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air.

A woman garbed in gold and white stands next to Roland with her mouth agape. The look on her face is one of astonishment and fear.

It takes her a moment to find her words. "Did...did...did you just...just...kill him?" She stammers.

The Gentleman studies her face for signs of humor but he sees none, only fear. "My lady, what would you have had me do, make tea and have a palaver with him? Maybe sing a few songs around the campfire, perhaps?"

She gives him an incredulous look but says nothing. Her eyes are moist and a tear escapes down her cheek.

His expression softens only slightly, and when he speaks it is with the tone of an adult speaking to a child. "Listen, the time for spared feelings and civility is over. If I had let him live he would have continued to terrorize and kill people of your world. Is that what you want?"

A look of resignation comes over her face as she looks away from Erik's gaze.

He gently takes her hand. "I know this is hard but this is the way it must be."

A blast near a group of civilians deafens the air. The woman pulls her hand away but Erik grabs it again before she can fly off. "Do what must be done". His tone left no room for interpretation. Disgust flashed across her face as she broke free from his grip and sped towards the group of civilians.

This is worse than he thought. If the other defenders are as soft as the woman in gold, they will be slaughtered. But he will not let that happen. He will protect this realm just as he had protected Mid-World. No matter the cost, he will find a way back to his family, and then he will make the Crimson King pay for every act of evil he has ever inflicted. But first, he will make the Legion regret ever setting foot on this world. He draws his sandalwood guns....and he smiles.