onearmeddruid

Pat tossed the stub of his cigar to his side . He listened intently to the pair as they speak. He stood up from his log curiosity getting the better of him. They smelled off to him and it was late to be hunting. Reaching into his pocket for his second cigar he followed them straight to the river staying close to foliage as to not be seen Well almost he partly didn't care if they saw him it was his night to relax. He looked at his surroundings a simple Montana.He once fought a man from Montana musket ball split his head open. Still the names he was hearing was new apparently some newcomers to town, perhaps he should scout out their property later introduce himself. It was after all polite to introduce on self to new neighbors. Pat leaned on a tree as he listened to their story about a predator getting his comeuppance reaching for his matchbook. Striking the match he puffed on his cigar lightly singing " hurrah for the Bonnie blue flag that bears a single star" under his breath.

Pat turned around his quiet evening seemingly at an end. He preferred to be alone, though perhaps his nose was failing him he should've smelt the fresh kill then again he is smoking a cigar.turning around even with the camouflage they were easy to see for him

Pat was a solitary man, in the decades he has been alive he has never re married not ever since the war. he chewed on his cigar sitting on a log staring out at the pasture. well as he sat at the edge of the woodland looking into the pasture. He both loved and hated the woods. loved for it was a solitary place for him to sit and ponder, loathe as it looks exactly like all of those battles he survived so long ago. The books talked of the big battles of regiments standing shoulder to shoulder, what they dont tell you is the brutal and bloody hand to hand combat that went through the forests and valleys, in fact most of the war was fought amongst the trees. this particular patch remind him of Shiloh. as angry as he was back then he never got used to Grant's tactic of throwing men at their lines. Of course it worked didn't it. of course something else was there weren't there.

Name: Pat Garrett Worthy Age: 190 Gender: Male Sexuality: straight ((i dont intend to use this character for sexual encounters)) Rank: Omega Species: Coyote Personality: tired, aloof, spends most of his time by himself, lives on his own, usually wants to be left alone Appearance Details: six foot, short dark hair brown eyes, beard, wears blue jeans black Brogans, Grey overcoat Other Details (Optional): From Mississippi, in 1835, He lived with his family on a small farm. with his father, grandmother, mother, and younger sister. At the age of 26 he enlisted to fight in the war. its unknown when he became a werewolf, only that it was AFter the Battle of Shiloh, he still suffers PTSD from that battle to this very day. He fought from Shiloh to Atlanta, Barely surviving Nashville, before teh war ended however, his family's home was burnt, believed to be from Union Soldiers, and his family froze to death without shelter in the late part of the war. He doesnt hate the soldier he fought against, or at least not anymore. To him his war ended years ago, though he mentions fighting a a vampire clan called the Family in new orleans and witnessed the Tulsa Race Riot in 21. He mostly keeps to himself now only really escorting anyone who wanders too close away from him.

ok sure

Sure

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