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God’s Watchdogs are dead and gone. Mormon military power has so much declined that the Blessed Lands of Deseret are flooded with non-believers. Even the faithful have forgotten the Dogs, the Order Set Apart to the Preservation of the Faith and the Faithful. Only the eldest branch members remember them in fabled form.

High in the mountains, overlooking the city of Bridal Falls, nestled between the four waterfalls which give the city its name, sits the ruin of an ancient temple. The Dogs Temple. Here, stewards once trained God’s Watchdogs to guard His Vineyard, to sow and to prune, with scripture and fire, and in all ways preserve the Faith. Long fallen to disuse, the temple is home now to cobwebs and orphans, and to the few geriatric members of the order who tend them.

You are among those orphans, growing up in the shadow of a once-noble order. All your life, you have walked these empty halls, gazed in wonder upon intricate but dusty tapestries depicting the history of God’s Watchdogs, perused musty tomes describing the order’s ancient rites and sacred duties, and worked tirelessly to clean empty rooms, deserted stables, and crumbling sculptures.

Two months ago, four men rode up the Season’s Tide, a winding road that leads to the Dog’s Temple. They met quietly with the elders, your stooped but sharp-eyed stewards. When the men rode out the next day, your cleaning duties ended forever and your training with firearms began. You are now officially the last members of Order Set Apart to the Preservation of the Faith and the Faithful.

Though there hasn’t been a Dog in over a generation, a great need has arisen. With little training, you have been tasked with righting the wrongs in the Branch of a hellacious mining town known as Frisco, Utah. Prepare your sacred oils and unguents. Carefully load your revolver, a Consecrated Hammer of the King of Life. You are about to meet the greatest challenge ever faced by the Dogs in the Vineyard.
Dogs 2


You stand between God’s law and the best intentions of the weak.
You stand between God’s people and their own demons.
Sometimes it’s better for one to die than for many to suffer.
Sometimes, Dog, sometimes you have to cut off the arm to save the life.
Does the sinner deserve mercy?
Do the wicked deserve judgement?
They’re in your hands.

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The Hounds of Frisco Randy Randy