Description

Rough. That was the best way to describe the dust covered outlaw. His face, russet colored, the color of his People, was weather beaten and worn. His hands were calloused from holding the reins, or the robe. From pulling things tight, lassoing. He walked slow, his hat pulled down low. His blacker than sin eyes were guarded and careful. His worn leather pants hugged his firm form, moved with him, added to the supple grace that he had. His long black hair was braided, tied off with a cord and an eagle feather, a quite homage to his father. His shirt, while it had seen better days and was patched and worn at the elbows, was clean. The black cloth that protected his mouth when he was in a dust storm was pulled down, exposing the soft lips that were pulled up on the right side by a scar that crossed through his sharp features. He walked with a limp on the left side, his left hand pressed against his leg to stop the ache. He had gotten shot once, went clean through the muscle. He was lucky, most men died from that. Then again, his "luck" made him an outlaw. His boots were scuffed, beaten up, worn at the heels from urging a horse on, or throwing them up on a table after a night gambling... after he had won the hand of a lucky... person. His gun was the only thing that looked new, and it was holstered without the band. He made sure that it was always within his reach. He kept his orientation close to his chest. He had fallen in love with both women and men. He was nicknamed the "Trickster" for a reason. No one really knew about Old Coyote and what he was going to do next... and he planned to keep it that way.

Personality

He kept to himself. He did his job and tried not to draw attention to himself. Hard to do when he was one of the Natives. He was not the sort of person that was able to strike up a conversation. There were notes on the bar windows "NO NATIVES ALLOWED" except that the signs never said native. He was always something else. Something inferior to the whites that owned everything. The whites forgot that he once owned so much more than they could ever imagine. He read by the firelight, always novels from the north and remembered what the Catholic Priests had forced him to learn. He mixed their God with his Gods and came up with a compromise. He was always one to compromise unless he was in a fight, and then it was all survival. He fights like a cornered grizzly, or a coyote with a foot stuck in a trap. He'd rather sacrifice parts of himself in order to escape as best as he can.

Equipment

He keeps a gambling case on his dun mustang horse. His horse isn't the fastest, but it's hardy and it does what he needs it to do. He has his gun kept at his side with as much ammo as he can afford. He has a canteen with water, and a flask of whiskey. He carries a flint and some kindling, as well food that will last him a couple of days. He has his dagger, ropes for a trap and a larger gun (that is used just for hunting) he keeps better care of his tack than he does of himself.

History

He was brought up in the ways of his people. He had been educated in the way of tracking, horsemanship and hunting, but then the Fathers came and he was brought to school where he was taught to read, write and fear punishment. He learned to hide his knowledge about his gods and tried to act as "normal" as he could, but he was never allowed into any gentleman's clubs, no matter how normal he tried to act. When he was 19, he got a job on a ranch where he was allowed to work with horses and herd cattle to the railways. He wasn't allowed into the mainhouse or even where the other cowhands were. He had to sleep out in the barn with the horses, which he didn't mind. That is where he found his horse, and his first love, another Native woman who bore him a daughter, Aidan... but both she and the woman were taken away by a white man from the north and his first love married him, and he has yet to see his daughter. His second love was a white woman, and their affair was wild, and heated, passionate, but it ended when her husband, the owner of the ranch found out, and the woman called foul. Coyote was forced to run for his life, stealing the horse, and ever since then he has been on the run.