As we roam the corridors, waiting for Scavenger’s Intuition to recharge, we stumble upon a summoned building. However, this one is the oddest yet. We look at the front of the large wooden building with "Saloon" written above it. Monty, halfway to becoming a cowboy with his gunslinger class, excitedly walks into the saloon, and I follow him. The place looks straight out of a cowboy movie. Monty strolls over to the bar and looks below it as I take a look around the room. I walk over to the piano in the corner, press a key, then head upstairs to the rentable rooms.

  In the hallway, I find the first thing of interest—a black-and-white picture of someone who seems important to the bar. There are several more photos of the man—some in groups, others alone—but what really catches my eye is his rifle, which has a ridiculously long scope.

  I open the first room and find a suitcase under the bed. Inside, there are several pieces of clothing, a not-so-comfortable pair of boots, and lastly, a packet of cocaine gum. I close the suitcase to bring it downstairs later to show Monty, placing it in the hallway while I search the second room. This one seems ready for the next guest, so there isn’t much of interest except a small platter on the desk containing foodstuff from that era. The platter has a small piece of hard candy wrapped in red and white, a bowl of dried fruits and nuts, a round piece of bread with butter, and a bottle of ginger beer. I take the bottle of ginger beer, curious about what it tastes like, before heading to the third room.

  As I open the door, I smell something awful. Looking around, I spot shards of glass on the ground along with a brownish liquid. The label on the smashed jar reads “Fermented Tomato Catsup; preserved in vinegar and spices.” It smells more like tear gas than ketchup, so I quickly close the door and head to the fourth and final room. Instead of a number, this one is labeled "Private" and is locked. But with a solid kick, the door swings open to reveal a small but nice room. I look around and find a closet full of clothes, a footlocker with a ledger inside, and another wardrobe.

  As I open the wardrobe, my suspicions are confirmed—the man in the pictures was indeed the owner of the saloon. In the wardrobe, I find the rifle with the ridiculously long scope. I look through the scope and see that it has no markings and only zooms. I sling the rifle over my shoulder before inspecting the other items in the wardrobe. One is an ornate wooden box, and the other is more interesting—there’s one word on it: “Dynamite.” I stare at the box, confused—why would a saloon owner have dynamite? I grab the ledger and read the entries from the back.

  After reading for a moment, I find out why he had dynamite. “05/08/1872: Had to confiscate a box of dynamite as the drunk owner Billy Townsworth lit one in the bar and threw it outside. Luckily, nobody got injured as it was late at night, the sheriff was out of town, and the deputy refused to deal with it. I will be holding onto it until the sheriff arrives.” That at least explains why he had dynamite here.

  I take the box of dynamite and the ornate box, then head back into the hall to take the suitcase downstairs to show Monty.

  Monty sits at a table, rubbing down a revolver with some oil and a rag. He looks at me with a smile and holds up the revolver for a good look. It’s a nice revolver. I place the box of dynamite on the table, and Monty asks, “Why would a saloon owner need dynamite?” I explain why it was here, and then I place the ornate box on the table. We open it to find another revolver—unlike the one Monty found, this one is black powder instead of using cartridges. It also has something interesting: two barrels, one aligned with the cylinder, while the other is not connected to anything in the back. I don’t understand this gun, so I decide to use Identify on it.

  I blink at the last part. “This thing has an under-barrel shotgun?” I accidentally say out loud. Monty, however, looks at the revolver with an almost reverent look as he asks, “Do you mind if I take this one? My class is telling me this is the best thing I could use at the moment.”

  I look at him and tell him, “Sure, take it, as long as I can keep the rifle,” patting the weird-looking sniper rifle on the desk.

  He nods and takes the revolver. I then have an idea and push the suitcase toward him. “Might as well dress like a cowboy.”

  Monty snaps out of his admiration for the new gun and looks at me as the words sink in. He grabs the suitcase and disappears into the backroom of the saloon. I wait for a bit and decide to taste the ginger beer. I pour a glass and take a sip. It tastes like ginger ale but with a little bit of alcohol.

  While I’m pretending to be a ginger beer sommelier, Monty steps out with a mix of old and new clothes—or are his clothes the old ones and the cowboy clothes the new ones? Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he looks great in his modern jeans and combat boots with his cowboy button-up shirt and vest. He even found a red bandana in the suitcase that I missed. I ask, “Where did you find the holsters?”

  He points at the bar. “There are a bunch behind it. I think the owner kept the ones that got left behind.”

  I look and, indeed, find a bunch of holsters. I take one to put mine in. With everything in the saloon done, I dump out the suitcase—it’s a good, sturdy container. I place it on the trolley, and we leave the saloon.

  After walking for a bit, I activate Scavenger’s Intuition and find the next place for us to loot. On the way there, we encounter a group of lizardmen—about twenty in total, with one noticeably bigger than the rest. I take my revolver in one hand and my crowbar in the other, then look at Monty. He’s shifted the sling of his rifle for easy access and drawn both his new revolvers. With a nod, we begin our assault on the group. We aim for the archers first, but one still manages to release an arrow that nearly hits me, sending a spike of adrenaline through my body. My vision blurs at the edges, and my heart races as my focus sharpens. I shoot once, and the archer who shot at me crumbles.

  I holster my revolver and take my crowbar in my dominant hand. With one brutal swing enhanced by Powered Strike, the head of the first melee lizardman is gone, leaving only a spray of blood.

  I think to myself, “Damn, that four-times stat multiplier is no joke, but I think it also quadrupled my adrenaline output.” Everything is amplified now—every noise is louder, and everything is so vibrant.

  In my adrenaline-fueled state, it becomes harder to think rationally as I attack lizardmen one by one. One manages to disarm me, but before the crowbar hits the floor, my fist caves in its face. I take its sword and stab it with it.

  Monty, even without my adrenaline-fueled mania, is having a blast testing his new weapons. Each shot is another dead lizard. After emptying his six-shooter, he switches to the LEMat. While it packs less of a punch than the other pistol, he’s excited to test its special feature. He shoots six more lizardmen with the LEMat before butt-stroking the last three into the larger lizardman. When it’s close enough to attack him, he uses the sixteen-gauge shotgun part of his revolver. With that blast, the lizardman noble—or brute, we don’t know—keels over. With his closest enemies dealt with, he begins to clean up the rest with his rifle.

  I stand before three lizardmen, my last enemies. I quickly draw my revolver and shoot the first one. Another rushes at me, trying to stab me with its sword. I parry it—not very well, but well enough to kick its legs out from under it and stab down with the sword. The last one tries to be defensive, so I pick up a second sword and throw both at it.

  The bizarre tactic surprises the last lizardman, and it loses focus on me. Both swords miss spectacularly, but it gives me the opening to punch it in the face hard enough to knock it clean off its feet. It looks up at me just as I’m about to stomp down onto its head. In a flash of movement, my leg comes down, ending the fight.

  I turn to Monty, who still has an air of excitement about him as he reloads his revolvers. I, however, am more interested in the gold jewelry the large lizardman was wearing. I take off its emerald-encrusted necklace, armbands, and earrings, then place them on the trolley before moving the bodies out of the way so we can continue to the next building.

  Halfway there, my adrenaline fades, and a profound feeling of exhaustion washes over me, but I keep going, hoping I can rest at the next building. When we arrive, we see something we didn’t expect: other people. It seems my skill led me to a group’s base. As we watch the two guards by the door, we hear a weapon rack behind us and a stern voice saying, “Don’t move. Don’t turn around. And you better not try to draw your weapon.”