Lone Wolves and Drifters

The Traveling Bands of the Gridlock Plains: part one

The air tasted of freedom,

But it cost a fee to breathe.

And those who could afford it

Would soon learn what envy sheathed.

Out here there were no sheriffs,

Nor priests to save your soul.

If you were unhappy

You would pay a greater toll.

Bandits controlled Gridlock

Just like the streets of town.

The only difference being

The lack of chains and bounds.

The injustice was about the same.

Being a trade route for merchants

They often trekked the plains,

Yet even with their knowledge

It was no simple campaign.

No path guarantees safety

As the gangs travel around.

Every step is daunting

When you know what’s bearing down.

Thus the seasoned merchants

Would hire Scarlet Sellswords.

They would guard the wagon

If their fee you could afford.

Many thought the price outrageous,

But there really was no choice.

It was either pay for protection

Or lose your whole invoice.

Outside of the caravan traders

You would think few people came,

But the plains were always lively

With new candles aflame.

Some came for the freedom,

The openness of the air.

Others came for refuge

Before they slipped into despair.

Lone wolves and drifters

Were never hard to find.

When desperation’s dreaming

Strife won’t be far behind.

And although Gridlock Plains

Is the place where dreams end,

Lust is a passion

Which repeats over again…