[@The Forgotten] i moved this over for you in case you would still like to edit and play this character. [hider=cowboy dude] [code] [hider=Arthur Donavan] [center][img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/cccf5fad-d47c-44b0-8bd4-fd3afeaa8c1d/dcrsg5q-6625465c-a9ae-4016-8e91-6bf04c082bfe.jpg[/img][/center] [color=][u][b]Name:[/b][/u][/color] Arthur Donaven [color=][u][b]Age:[/b][/u][/color] 30 [color=][u][b]Sex:[/b][/u][/color] Male [color=][u][b]Sexuality:[/b][/u][/color] Bisexual [color=][u][b]Relationship Status:[/b][/u][/color] Single [color=FFE8ED][center][h3]The Body[/h3][/center][/color] [color=][u][b]Height:[/b][/u][/color] 6'1 [color=][u][b]Weight:[/b][/u][/color] 221 [color=][u][b]Hair:[/b][/u][/color] Auburn [color=][u][b]Eyes:[/b][/u][/color] L eye Green/R eye Blue [color=][u][b]Skin Tone:[/b][/u][/color] Tanned [color=][u][b]Appearance:[/b][/u][/color] Arthur has the build of a man who has worked hard his entire life, and has the scars to match. His fore arms are littered in scars ranging from burns to bullet wounds, but the most noticeable ones are the long jagged scar that crosses over his jugular across his throat, and what appears to be claw marks going across his face from left to right. [color=FFE8ED][center][h3]The Soul[/h3][/center][/color] [color=][u][b]Likes:[/b][/u][/color] Liquor of any kind, Sex, Animals of any kind, Honest people, the color green, His hat and Duster, fighting [color=][u][b]Dislikes:[/b][/u][/color] Rich people, Lies, anyone who attacks the weak, automobiles, electronics, anyone who thinks they are better then anyone else [color=][u][b]Skills:[/b][/u][/color] [list] [*] Can ride horses/bulls/donkeys/mules [*] Crack shot with any revolver/lever action rifle [*] Can clean any revolver in one minute or less. [*] Can make a weapon out of anything in a fight. [*] Can stitch up cuts and gashes. [*] His left eye is capable of seeing in the dark, and seeing paranormal entity's that would otherwise go unnoticed. [/list] [color=][u][b]Brief History: [/b][/u][/color] [list] [*] 1862- Mathius Donovan is born [*] 1885- Mathius Donovan becomes Sheriff [*] 1883- Mathius Donovan Marries [*] 1883- Mathius Donovan retires and buys a ranch [*] 1891- Arthur Donovan is born [*] 1906- Mathius Donovan is shot down and Arthur Donovan inherits the family ranch [*] 1911- Arthur Donovan kills his father's murderer [*] 1916- Arthur Donovan Marries [*] 1920- Arthur begins having nightmares [*] 1921- Arthur and his wife are attacked by an unseen force leaving Arthur as the only survivor [*] 1921- Arthur discovers he can now see things he shouldn't be able too see. [/list] [color=FFE8ED][center][h3]The Story[/h3][/center][/color] Arthur had been many things over the last thirty years, all of which lead him here. Riding a horse through the middle New York City, one of the few places on this earth he had sworn he would never end up, garbed in his father's old riding duster and Hat, and a dust caked flannel and jeans. Not more then a month ago he had been a simple rancher, but thanks to life's shitty sense of humor he had lost it all. With everything he now owned saddled to his trusty steed, Arthur knew of one place to go when life got hard. The local bar. Ignoring the looks of passers by, Arthur followed the distinct sound of local drunkards arguing and was quick to find a bar that suited his tastes. It was old, rustic, and above all else it wasn't high class. Arthur truly hated rich people. Hitching his horse to a nearby lamp post Arthur made his way through the old chipped and weathered door, the smell of liquor and tobacco filling his nose the moment he crossed the threshold. Arthur had barely managed to get his hat off his head before one of the bar patrons glanced his way, spitting disagreeably at his feet. Arthur paused for a moment, debating on weather he should teach this drunkard a lesson, but was drawn from his choice as the voice of a woman rang out through the bar. "Jessie Miller! What have I told you about spitting at strangers!" Arthur was quick to spot the origin of the voice, a short old woman with a fire behind her eyes, "Your officially cut off!" The old man tried to argue but as he stood from his stool his legs gave out sending him crashing to the ground, asleep. Stepping over the man Arthur took a seat and tapped on the bar saying gruffly. "Thanks for that doll, I'll have a whisky." The gruff old woman offered what he could only be a warm smile as she filled a glass and slid it his way. As she went to put the bottle away Arthur slapped a crisp ten down on the bar with a smirk saying "Leave the bottle." Hours passed with as Arthur drank his pain away, until a certain conversation between a father and his son drew his attention. "But pa! It's good money!" The younger boy protested. "I said no, and that's final! No son'o mine is gonna go around chasing ghosts!" the father shouted back angrily. "Pa! It's like I said, it's not ghosts they investigate, they investigate unexplained things that's all!" Arthur had heard enough at that point. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey beside him Arthur tipped the bottle back downing what was left before making his way over to the pair of bickering family members. It wasn't too hard to get more information and after receiving phone number from the boy, Arthur made his leave, a nice thrum rushing through his head thanks to the whisky. The next two hours were a blur of faces and voices, swirling around a drink addled brain. Arthur found himself standing in front of a phone in a desolate room, barren of any furniture or signs of anyone having been in that room for years based on the thick layer of dust that covered everything. But the most concerning thing of all was the fact that there were no footprints in the dust leading to the table. The floor was completely undisturbed. Releasing a breath of air Arthur had been unaware he was holding he reached for the phone saying "It's about time for me to get some answers" [color=FFE8ED][center][h3]The Ether[/h3][/center][/color] [color=][u][b]Color Code:[/b][/u][/color] [color=][u][b]Theme Song:[/b][/u][/color] "My Rifle, My Pony, and Me" By Dean Martin [/hider][/code] [/hider]