Many people live and die in the Wasteland. Some good, some bad. But there is one man, or woman, who has traveled the Wasteland for years. One whose death still eludes them. I speak of course of the Lone Swordsman.
No one knows who he or she is. Every about the Lone Swordsman is shrouded in mystery. Many believe that this person doesn’t even exist. I believed that too until I met a stranger in a cobbled together bar near Rustville. He looked like your typical Waster; dirty and gaunt yet full of life. Unlike others, there was something about him that seemed… odd. He had the look of someone who had actually seen God.
He sat in a dark corner, lightening it up with just his presence. After another watered-down beer, I decided to find out just what it was that had this man so happy. So I go over and we talked. When I asked what made him so happy, he said it was because the Lone Swordsman saved his life.
“Pffft,” I said in disbelief, waving it off as nonsense, “He ain’t real!”
“Oh but he is!” he exclaimed, “Or maybe it was a she… I dunno! I just know that it was the Lone Swordsman who saved me.”
“What d’ya mean “I dunno”?” I asked, “Didn’t you get a good look at ‘em?”
“I only caught a brief glimpse,” he answered, “I was mainly hiding. By the time I peeked out, he was gone…”
“Well,” I said, leaning back in the rickety old chair, “What happened?”
So, the man tells me his story. He was traveling to Rustville from New Hope. He was a traveling merchant you see, always drifting from place to place, selling all kinds of useful and unique items, mostly. He was traveling at night when he was attacked by a couple of muties, Night Crawlers to be exact. He was terrified, of course any normal man would be. I know I would be, those creepy bugs just… well… creep me out!
Anyway, he was attacked by Night Crawlers. He crawled under his cart to escape them. His horse wasn’t so lucky. It was torn apart quicker than you can say, “Hey”. He used the distraction of his poor horse getting eaten to hide. It wasn’t long before the bugs snuff him out. They started clawing at him, tearing apart his cart in their mad attempt to feed even more. Just before they could have another meal, a stranger showed up. They were dressed in black, nearly blending into the night. Their clothing was bulky, not revealing any female features (if they were one) and they wore a hooded cloak that shrouded their face in shadow.
The Night Crawlers quickly turned about to face their new prey. One lunged at them with a screech, claws extended. The person stepped aside and the bug sailed past and crashed in the ruined road. Another leapt and the stranger pulled out a shiny blade, a katana the merchant told me, and cut the bug apart so quick that the merchant didn’t even know what happened until the bug was diced.
The remaining Night Crawlers grew more cautious now, slowly approaching the stranger and circling them in preparation of attack. The stranger stood still, like a statue, simply waiting. The bugs grew impatient and all lunged at once, hoping to bury their prey under the mass of their bodies. the stranger swung their sword and cut open two bugs. They twirled about and cut apart another one. One bug thought to attack them while their back was turned but met a quick end by the stranger.  The merchant watched all this from beneath his cart, completely amazed. When all the bugs were dead, he shouted for joy and was in the process of crawling out from his cover to thank the stranger until the ground started rumbling.
At first, the merchant thought it was a small earthquake. In actuality, it was far worse. From out of the earth, directly beneath the merchant, a huge Night Crawler, a Brute, burst forth. The merchant was sent flying and landed on the ground with a thud. When he woke up, it was morning. His cart was destroyed but the Night Crawlers were dead, including the huge Brute. His cart and items were destroyed but he found a small pack containing money more than twice the value of his things. The stranger was gone.
“It was the Lone Swordsman,” he told me, “It had to be. I ain’t seen no one who could use a sword like they could.”
I didn’t say anything, quietly sipping my drink. I then asked him about the money and he showed me. Two hundred dollars! That was the most money I’ve seen on a single man. I told him that he should buy a mansion with that kind of money but he refused, saying that he would rather prefer a life on the road rather than a life cooked up in a place everyone envies.
After that, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways; him going towards Rustville, me going wherever. At first, I was still adamant in not believing his story. It could’ve been anyone. Surely there are people out there who has skill with the sword, right? But the more I thought about it, the more I started to change my mind. Maybe the Lone Swordsman does exist. Maybe they are more than a simple myth. I don’t know. But what I do know is that whoever this person who saved that merchant, if you’re reading this, I would like to thank you on his behalf and hope that you have safe travels.