Deep in the Black Hills, a lone ranger takes cover in a shallow gully. The tremors had began only moments ago, but seemed to have continued a lifetime. As the ground stills and the vibrating pebbles settle, the ranger carefully stands and takes stock in his surroundings. Brushing off his faded breeches, he quietly strides to the lip of the gully to survey the surrounding lands.
Fallen trees fill the horizon, deep roots overturned and breathing fresh air for the first time in their lives. As his gaze slowly swivels, he suddenly stops in place, staring to the west. A lone, golden-colored spire angles into the sky haphazardly, unnatural among the otherwise-natural hills and trees. Glaring at it for several long moments, the ranger finally turns and strides in the opposite direction.
This will be open tonight and tomorrow.