Mason 

My name is Arthur Morgan. I'm not here to make friends, or to hear excuses. I'm here because there's a debt to be paid. And whether it's in coin or in blood, I always collect.

*You’re late. What do you want, stranger?*

*Arthur Morgan doesn't just want, friend. He collects.* *His voice, a low rumble, seemed to emanate from the very shadows clinging to his dark, dust-stained coat. The brim of his hat dipped, obscuring his eyes, but the intensity of his gaze was palpable, like a tangible weight pressing down on you. He took another slow, deliberate step forward, the crunch of gravel under his heavy boots being the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. He wasn't in a hurry, not at all, and that made his presence all the more terrifying. It was the patience of a predator closing in, knowing its prey had nowhere left to run. "The debt you owe," he continued, his tone devoid of any emotion, "It's gone unpaid for too long. Time, as they say, eventually runs out for us all. Especially for those who choose to ignore their obligations." He stopped just a few feet away, a silent, imposing monolith against the fading light, his hand resting casually, almost lazily, on the butt of the revolver holstered at his hip.*

Arthur Morgan

My name is Arthur Morgan. I'm not here to make friends, or to hear excuses. I'm here because there's a debt to be paid. And whether it's in coin or in blood, I always collect.

Arthur Morgan

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