The big man regained consciousness, face down in leaves, in what tuned out to be a verdant forest when he lifted his head. His last memory before coming to here was of a wizened old man saying "Well, have a nice trip, then..." before touching him on the chest with his staff.
The big man took stock of himself. His guns were gone, along with their holsters. His wide-brimmed hat was gone, but he appeared to still have all of his small blades in place, including the straight razor mounted in a pouch underneath the long black hair at the nape of his neck.
He spotted his hat. It was being pulled along the forest floor by two small winged humanoid creatures, who kept trying to fly off with it, but the leather was too heavy for them. Then he spotted his sword belt. He'd never seen it before, but he knew it was his.
All black leather, silver embossed, a long blade with an ebony grip, and a silver skull on the pommel. Its smaller twin, a long dirk, mounted crossdraw on the right side, and a series of throwing daggers mounted on the
Okay, I got distracted from this, and when I came back I was bored with it. If you want me to finish it, say so. But it likely won't be today. Let me know.