The Ten Callings

"I don't make the laws. I just enforce the ones that pay."

You make your living with violence — as a hired gun, a bounty hunter, a sheriff, or a soldier. Your reputation is your resume, and your revolver is your reference letter.

"There's wealth in the ground, if you're willing to bleed for it."

You work with your hands — mining ghost-rock, building rail, digging graves. The Consortium sees you as disposable. You've learned to find value where others see only dirt.

"Cards don't lie. People do. I speak both languages."

You survive on charm, luck, and the ability to read a room. You might be a gambler, a con artist, a salesman, or simply someone who's learned that words are cheaper than bullets.

"I've seen what waits on the other side of death. My job is to keep people on this side."

You tend to the wounded, the sick, and the dying. You might be a frontier doctor, a Redeemer priest, or simply someone who learned that healing is the most valuable skill in a world that bleeds.

"The Consortium built the lock. I built the bomb that opens it."

You are an expert in the machines of the new world. You might be a train engineer, a safecracker, or a demolitionist. While the Muck-Raker builds, you dismantle. While the High-Roller talks their way in, you crawl…

"I don't aim with my eye. I aim with my regret."

You channel the Current through your firearm, loading bullets with memory and will. Your shots bend around corners, punch through walls, and strike true when physics says they shouldn't.

"The strongest armor is useless if the man inside it wants to die."

You touch minds, plant suggestions, and weave illusions. You are feared more than any gunfighter — because bullets can be dodged, but how do you dodge a thought?

"I don't guess the cards. I read the ink before it was printed."

You see what others cannot — glimpses of the future, echoes of the past, the threads of causality that bind event to event. Your gift is maddening, but invaluable.

"Pain is just information. Anatomy is just a suggestion."

You manipulate living tissue — knitting wounds, accelerating healing, and (if desperate) reshaping flesh into new configurations. Your gift is visceral, intimate, and disturbing.

"I am the rock in the river. The Current breaks on me."

You are a void in the psionic field — a null point that absorbs and negates magical energy. Where you stand, the Veil cannot reach. You are the shield against the supernatural.