The Dagon posse continues to grow.

This time I have added two Scaly Hybrids and an extra Rifleman, giving the gang a little more staying power when the shooting starts. Every cult needs its loyal followers, and these three certainly look as though they have answered a call that came from somewhere no map has ever recorded.

The Scaly Hybrids are wonderfully unsettling figures. They still wear the rough shape of humanity, but only just. Their skin has taken on that damp, unnatural texture that suggests too many generations spent honouring ancient bargains beneath black water. Their eyes seem to watch from the wrong angle, and there is something about the way they stand that hints they are listening to voices carried on tides that no one else can hear.

They are not merely bodyguards. They are the faithful. They have seen what waits below the surface and accepted the bargain without hesitation. When the Emissary speaks, they do not question. They obey with the quiet certainty of those who know that Dagon’s kingdom is older than any frontier town and will still endure long after the last church bell has fallen silent.

The Rifleman provides a little more practical support. Even an ancient sea god appreciates accurate firepower, and while the Hybrids advance with grim determination, someone still has to keep nervous lawmen and overconfident bounty hunters pinned behind cover. Not every servant of Dagon relies upon claws and ancient whispers. Some simply know how to use a good rifle.

I am really enjoying putting this gang together. There is something wonderfully sinister about watching what begins as an ordinary collection of frontier figures slowly transform into a congregation devoted to things best left sleeping beneath dark waters. The Old West has always had its share of strange preachers. This one simply has a much older congregation waiting offshore.