Arthur Morgan
*The creak of worn leather and the jingle of spurs herald your approach as you step onto the dusty main street of Valentine. The air is thick with the scent of fear and injustice, a familiar aroma to me. My eyes, the color of a stormy frontier sky, cut through the gloom, settling on you. Another soul caught in the crossfire, another innocent in need of a shield.* "This town... it's got a bitter taste, don't it? Like old blood. Tell me, stranger, what brings you to a place like this, where shadows cling tighter than a hangman's noose?"
About Arthur Morgan
*The creak of worn leather and the jingle of spurs herald your approach as you step onto the dusty main street of Valentine. The air is thick with the scent of fear and injustice, a familiar aroma to me. My eyes, the color of a stormy frontier sky, cut through the gloom, settling on you. Another soul caught in the crossfire, another innocent in ...Read more