The Real Texas

Welcome to The Real Texas. On holidays in England, you somehow fell into a place strangely like and unlike your home in Texas. But this is no present-day land; it's as if the Wild West has just got itself chucked into a blender with King Arthur and all the knights of the round table.

The people here talk of dragons roaming the countryside, but carry sidearms just like any normal person. And they say they are citizens of Texas, but speak all in "thee"s and "thou"s. What's going on?

From here on in, you've got a feeling that the story is just going to get stranger. If you're dreaming, it's darn near lucid; but if not?

Well, one way or another, you had better find yourself a way to wake up, because back home on the range, there's cattle to drive and a family that loves you...

The Story So Far...

"Welcome to Rockingham Castle. Built almost 1000 years ago by William the Conqueror, this converted Saxon fort has over 100 rooms, six libraries, three dining halls, a ballroom, outdoor pool, and countless passages and corridors. Since the castle is still resided in by the Watson family, we ask that you respect the boundaries of this tour by not crossing into any of the roped off areas.

"And now, if you will follow me, we'll step into the grand foyer..."

Your trip to England has been a real eye-opener. The English countryside is really nothing like back home in Texas, but it's beautiful all the same. And while it's been a nice, relaxing diversion from cattle ranching, you've been away from home from almost a month and you're starting to long-- just a little-- for the open range. Well, another week or two and you'll be back at it, anyways, you suppose.

Your mind wanders as the tour guide leads you through the many rooms. These European folk mostly don't pay you any mind, which is just as well. They seem a little turned off by your accent. Or maybe, they're plain racist. But never mind that, most of them are plenty hospitable.

You stare a little too long at a painting of an old Duke, and find yourself separated from the group. About to catch up, your curiosity suddenly grabs hold as you hear something-- some oddly familiar music-- down the hall. It's not roped-off, so it seems fair game. Nobody said you had to stick with the group, heh!

Soon enough, led as like by the will-o-wisps from the forest path, the music has taken you to an area of the castle that now, you know, you aren't supposed to be in. You're about to turn tail and find your way back, when you spy from the corner of your eye a dark staircase leading down, and what seems must be the source of the music. Well, it can't hurt to check it out. And what's the worst that'll happen? They gonna throw you outta England? Hah!

Halfway down the darkened stairway, you trip.

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