A tall, slim human steps forward. His blue eyes glance at one and then another of the assembly. He wears two six-shooters slung low on his thighs, a dark brown hat, a jacket, and a serape.

Hear me, I beg.

Jonah Morrok of Gilead, Mid-World that was; that's how I whish to be known. Jonah's good enough, sure.

I pursued a killer in the badlands north of the ruins of Gilead and stepped through a thinny, I reckon. I wound up here.

You know me, and you've fought alongside me. I'll carry my weight out there.

Jonah nods toward the exit.

I need to get back to the bones of my home so's I can kill him that killed mine.

That's all.

Jonah steps back to his place in the assembly.