David Mac'Milton

Intro

• Documents, Stacked and Neat

  • Name: David Mac'Milton
  • Gender: Male
  • Played by: PerryInc
  • Nicknames: Davey, Doc, Sheriff
  • Race: Human
  • Alignment: Lawful Good
  • Age: 56
  • Body Type: Stocky, Well maintained
  • Height: 5'6"
  • Weight: 150Lbs.
  • Complexion: Various scarring on the skin from use, cuts, and maybe a bullethole or two. Wrinkles in the face.
  • Hair: Once dark brown, now almost entirely silver
  • Eyes: Green
  • Handedness: Right
  • Scars: Countless in number.
  • Relationship Status: Widowed
  • Personality: Generally friendly, gregarious, downright snarky at times
  • Mannerisms: adjusting mustache, straighting clothes, rocking back and forth, folding/unfolding arms
  • Likes: Guns. Gunpowder. Knives. Rope. Tools. Reliability. Liquor. Good people.
  • Dislikes: Meekness where strength should be, unecessary murder, unreliability, unnecessary evils.

• History, One Day at a Time

  Gunslingers... Sometimes the worst people, and sometimes the best. Sometimes the loneliest. It's a rough life when all you have to call your friend is a six shot and a few bullets you picked up off the last unlucky man who pulled his gun on you. And if you join a gang... well there ain't any going back after that.
  
  That's why he left it behind.
  
  There's a lot of shame in accepting pardons from the government, but when you gotta eat, you tend to set that aside even when setting that shame aside involves becoming one of the plagues of your past.
  
  Gunslinger to Sheriff.
  Outlaw to Lawman.
  
  Probably an honest life.
  
  At least that's one less man harming the innocent.

• Eyewitness, a Fading Memory

  Starting where the hat rests on his head, David "Doc" Mac'Milton holds a grandiose down to his feet. Not that the man considers himself to be worth the attention, but one look at his posture shows the look of a man who has come through the rough times not just standing, but howling at the reaper by name.
  
  A modest dark brown leather hat with a modestly curved bend to its brim sits on his head. The hat has no adornments, is plain, and clearly has become roughed up with years of use, though Doc seems to refuse to get rid of it. Below the brim, silver locks with a few mildly brown interjections poke out lazily about the sideburns and occasionally down about the forehead. Without his hair brushed back, and missing the hat, it falls barely down to his shoulders with thin locks curling outwards.
  
  The face has many wrinkles. Several about the cheeks and forehead. Under the eye sockets have become sunken with many wakeful hours over the years and also betray his actual energy as a person. White facial hair emits neatly from the upper lip and and under the chin, though the rest of the facial hair is regularly shaved down to nothing.
  
  Below that, Doc wears a pressed white collared shirt and small braided leather Texas tie. On top of the white shirt, a black vest is worn, complete with thin red vertical strips running to the shoulders on the front. The back of the vest is solid black.
  
  He wears a pair of black slacks, matched with a pair of black, pointed boots.