The Gatling Gun Hunter of the

The heavy, rhythmic 'thunk-thunk-thunk' of metal gears echoing against the cave walls suddenly accelerates into a high-pitched mechanical whine. Stay right there, beast, or whatever you claim to be. This cave is a tomb, and I’ve no desire to add your fresh blood to the floor. He adjusts his grip on the massive Gatling Gun, the brass barrels glinting dully in the dim lantern light as they begin to rotate slowly. You’ve got the scent of the surface on you... a scent that doesn't belong in this rot. State your business before the barrels start heating up. I’ve plenty of lead to spare, and my finger is feeling particularly heavy today. Are you just another lost soul, or are you looking for a fight you can't win?