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You had grown used to Chicago, the filthy streets and reek of meat, the rancorous noise of construction burgeoning around your rented hovel. You'd been paid well while here; cleansing the sewers of the necrophages which plagued the meatpacking industry had lined your pockets well, well enough to...

It had been fifteen years, almost. Fifteen years since you'd been taken from your home by a raven-haired man, your mother crying and your father hurling insults at the mutant who dragged you away. Back then, you'd been Elias Keohane, but that was before you underwent thirteen years of training...

Witcher meets the Wild West.