Solomon Mackintosh Munroe

Tall and thin, Munroe has pale skin and dark rings under his eyes. He is unshaven and his clothes have seen better days,


Munroe’s general appearance is disheveled; his clothes are slightly too big and very travel stained, and it has been noticeably too long since his last shave and haircut. His skin is pale and often he often has a blue tint to his lips, and his eyes are sunken and dark.


I’ve hunted most things on this continent, both two legged and four. Tried to lead a good life after I left Detroit. Not that being an Englishman in this country is always easy, my old country-men are hanging onto that city whether our old allies in the South want them too or not. Hunting bounties wasn’t really for me, but it made me some extra capital. I found myself a good woman, tried to settle down.

Those were good years. It was hard, just living from day to day. I seemed to spend the money I had saved faster than I could make it, but Charity and I became known in town as good people, I could even rely on a little leeway with the bills when I couldn’t quite catch up. Three years I spent working that land, and when Charity found out she was pregnant, I dared hope the things I had done in service to the crown had been forgiven, or at least forgotten by whatever looks down on us.

The old Indian came by the same night my daughter was born. Shot and dying, in the middle of a summer storm like you wouldn’t believe, I couldn’t help him as much as maybe I should have. Hell, I had a wife giving birth to look after. But at least I tried. I couldn’t make out his last words, but I’m pretty sure it was a curse.

The dying started not long after. I believe it took the townspeople who attacked that old man first, but who knows. Soon it took my Charity, still weak after the labour. Then it took my little girl.

I’ve lasted longest, a few years of constant head pain, and a wracking cough. I think I’m last because I should have helped that old Indian, but maybe all the medicine I’ve tried has helped. I’ve visited with other native tribes, learned some of their ways, but the pain has never faded, and I’m losing strength fast. I’ve been told about church healers, but how can I pray to something that will take everything a man has?

Its got so bad I can barely see straight. I was a pretty damn good shot in my younger days; now I have to rely on these two scatterguns in case the headaches make my eyes blur at the wrong moment. I am running out of choices and time.

But another visitor with the tribe I was staying with has told me about some miracle cure using ghost rock. Best place to get that is West, so I have myself a train booked, even if it means I’ll need to put up with the stares of my fellow passengers.

But I have my medicine pouch, I have a few dollars, and I have my weapons.

Solomon Mackintosh Munroe

Wide Weird West MasterGameMaster DennisSaunders