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Description
There was once a gang of outlaws so savage and ruthless their names struck fear into the hearts of even the most hardened frontiersmen. They were the scourge of the western territories, leaving a trail of blood and mayhem in their wake.

Like many who choose to live on the wrong side of the law, they came to a violent end, betrayed by one of their own and ambushed by a heavily-armed posse in a lonely, moonlit canyon.

Their story would have ended there but for the Desolation King, a malevolent force that had long laid claim to the canyon's depths. He bound the restless spirits of the outlaws to his will, transforming them into something far darker and even more depraved than they'd been in life. Their bullet-riddled corpses rose, eyes burning with a cold, unholy light, and opened fire on the unsuspecting posse, exacting bloody retribution.

They prowl the desolate canyons and dusty trails by night, carrying out the Desolation King's bidding. They hunt down his enemies and spread fear and despair throughout the territories, seeking to break the people's spirit and tighten their master's grip on the West. Word of these spectral riders has begun to spread, spoken in hushed tones around campfires and in saloons. Some dismiss them as ghost stories. Others, who have glimpsed the riders' decayed, skeletal faces, know they are all too real.

Created using DallE-3 and Krita

Description
There was once a gang of outlaws so savage and ruthless their names struck fear into the hearts of even the most hardened frontiersmen. They were the scourge of the western territories, leaving a trail of blood and mayhem in their wake.

Like many who choose to live on the wrong side of the law, they came to a violent end, betrayed by one of their own and ambushed by a heavily-armed posse in a lonely, moonlit canyon.

Their story would have ended there but for the Desolation King, a malevolent force that had long laid claim to the canyon's depths. He bound the restless spirits of the outlaws to his will, transforming them into something far darker and even more depraved than they'd been in life. Their bullet-riddled corpses rose, eyes burning with a cold, unholy light, and opened fire on the unsuspecting posse, exacting bloody retribution.

They prowl the desolate canyons and dusty trails by night, carrying out the Desolation King's bidding. They hunt down his enemies and spread fear and despair throughout the territories, seeking to break the people's spirit and tighten their master's grip on the West. Word of these spectral riders has begun to spread, spoken in hushed tones around campfires and in saloons. Some dismiss them as ghost stories. Others, who have glimpsed the riders' decayed, skeletal faces, know they are all too real.

Created using DallE-3 and Krita