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Tex Canaan

A tall stranger in a longcoat and black cowboy hat.

0 · 276 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Tejas

Description

Image
Name: Tex "Sixguns" Canaan
Race: Human
Occupation: Sheriff of Roanoke Settlement
Age: 38
Height: 6'1"
Hair: dark blonde
Eyes: grey eyes. Black patch over right eye,

Average build. He has an ugly scar showing just above the patch and extending about 2" below the patch. He usually wears a worn black leather cowboy hat and a long duster coat, though he tends to hang up both when he's inside. He also wears a twin-holstered gunbelt.

Personality

Tex tends to smile easily and is usually very easy-going, despite his job and his past. You can't see it on his face, but he has some deep emotional scars from the past. He's usually a pretty good judge of character, and easily gives trust to those he feels worthy. But once someone has broken his trust, it's a break that is nigh impossible to mend.

He always tries to keep the peace first. But when diplomacy fails, he's quick to draw.

Equipment

Black cowboy hat, full-length duster coat, Zhuàn .45-70 revolver (one on each hip), Sharpes 12.7mm lever-action hunting rifle (which he rarely carries with him, unless the situation calls for it).

History

During the Unification War, Terrence Canaan served with the independents, primarily as a pilot or co-pilot, though he did see a fair bit of action as a soldier in several battles. Several times, he rose in rank (the highest he'd ever achieved being Sargeant), but he always managed to get himself into trouble, and thus demoted. By the time the war ended, he was back down to Private 1st Class. Though he wasn't actually at the Battle of Serenity Valley, the event had a profound effect on him. When he'd learned of the Independents defeat there, it broke his heart. Since then, he'd found odd jobs here and there, until he finally made his way to Roanoke Colony. After a short time there, he was recommended by several locals for the office of Sheriff, due to his friendly demeanor and fairness in judgement. He has been the Sheriff for the past 2 years.

So begins...

Tex Canaan's Story

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Tex Canaan enters the bar, looking around as if he does not recognize the place.

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Tex Canaan approaches the bar, a hand going to his head. He feels a slight ache behind the eyes, as though something forgotten is trying to emerge in his mind. He bears no weapons, the twin Colt .45s he normally would have carried now absent, as they had been for the past couple of weeks.

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Tex Canaan catches sight of Tygria and he feels a small smile come to his lips inexplicably. He has a warmth in his chest when he sees her, but he still cannot understand why. Again, something tugs at his thoughts at the back of his mind . . .

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Tex Canaan approaches Tygria, removing his hat and nodding to her in a gentlemanly manner. "Howdy, ma'am." He looks at the little girl. "Hey there, lil missy." His attention returns to Tygria. "The headaches are coming less frequent, ma'am. But I still caint remember much." He sighs a little, frustrated. "Is that a bad sign? Will I ever know who I was? Am?"

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Tex Canaan saunters into the bar, the child Jenny clinging to his hand. His eyes glance around the room, taking note of those present.

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Tex Canaan guides Jenny to an empty table, the two of them sitting down. Jenny tugs on his sleeve, causing him to look at her. "Where is Mommy?" the child asks. Tex points a single finger toward the woman who just entered. "Right there, darlin'," he answers.

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Tex Canaan chuckles at Jenny's actions. "Just a piece before you did, darlin'. Figured you'd be here before long." He lifts his black hat from his head and sets it down on the table. "Been kinda slow 'round the house. Been thinking we might oughta invest in a few head of cattle, start us up a little ranch, maybe."

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Tex Canaan laughs cheerfully at the idea. "Oh, most certainly. Caint have a ranch without something to herd with. Besides, I was about her age when I started learnin' to ride."

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Tex Canaan glances at Jenny. "Yeah, kiddo? What is it?" He reaches down and rubs a smudge off her cheek. "You been playin' in the dirt when I wasn't lookin'?" he teased her.

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Tex Canaan ruffles the girl's hair a bit. "Well, kiddo, we caint be having you go hungry, now can we? How's 'bout we see if I caint scrounge you up some grub? Anything you want in particular?"

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Tex Canaan laughs as he tucks his head under the edge of the table to look at Jenny, bumping his head in the process. "What're you hidin' for, short stuff? Aint nothing to be embarrassed about." He thinks for a second. "You know, I aint had pancakes in a mighty long time. Sounds real good to me, too."

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Tex Canaan is aghast at Tygria. "A mix?! That there's akin to blasphemy, darlin'! Pancakes gotta be made from scratch. Aint that right, kiddo?" he asks Jenny. Jenny merely shrugs. She just wants pancakes, mix or not.

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Tex Canaan follows along. "You know, darlin', I spent a long number of years cookin' for myself. I aint a stranger to a fryin' pan." He hurries his pace to catch up.

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Tex Canaan enters the bar, pulling his hat from his head and batting away at the trail dust that clings to his clothes. He gives the place a cursory glance, hoping to find a familiar face. To his dismay, he finds none of his friends here, and so he sighs as he takes a seat at a table near the entrance.

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Tex Canaan sets his hat on the table, then leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table next to the hat. His long coat shifts back with the movement, revealing the twin Colt .45s at his waist.

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/message Rougeshadow I can. What kinda rp? Western? Modern? Fantasy?

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Tex Canaan suanters into the bar, having been absent from the scene for a very long time. With a single finger, he nudges the brim of his black cowboy hat, pushing it up a bit. The full length dustcoat he wears swishes to a halt around his ankles, disturbing the dust on the floor. He looks around the room, seeing who all is there. He reaches up and brushes some of the snow from his shoulders, inadvertently drawing attention to the steel badge on his left lapel, the badge of a U.S. Marshal.

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Tex Canaan realizes that his lapel has flipped over and the badge is showing, so he quickly pulls the badge from the coat and pins it on the inside. Hopefully, no one saw it. But even is they did, he had a couple of friends that would make sure trouble kept far away. And those two friends were the Colt .45 Peacemakers he wore on his gunbelt. He started heading for the bar, the steady thud of his boots sounding heavily in the room.

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Tex Canaan enters the bar, rain dripping from his hat and coat. He looks around the room to see if there are any familiar faces, but there are none. He reaches up and removes his badge from his lapel and tucks it away in a pocket. No need to go looking for trouble. He starts heading toward the bar, his boots thudding solidly against the floor as he walks.

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Tex Canaan removes his hat and sets it down on the bar, his dark blonde hair somewhat matted from the rain that had seeped through the hat. He runs a hand through it, smoothing it back a bit as he leans against the bar and eases back his full-length duster coat, revealing the twin Colt .45 Peacemaker revolvers that nestled in his gunbelt. Trouble tended to avoid those that looked like they could handle it. A lesson he knew well.

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Tex Canaan nods to Tristan. "Thanks for the offer, but I don't drink. Just came by lookin' for some old friends of mine." He glances toward the door, as if he were trying to will a particular someone to walk in.

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Tex Canaan raises a single eyebrow in question. "I ain't meanin' to be rude, mister, but I make it a rule not to take gifts from strangers. It's turned out bad for me in the past. And I don't aim to repeat my mistakes. But I cain't see no reason not to enjoy to fireplace. Leastwise, not yet." He eases forward, taking his weight off the bar and, picking up his hat he heads for a table closer to the fire.

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Tex Canaan hears someone enter the room and he turns to look, hoping that it was . . . (sigh) but it wasn't. He turned back toward the fire as he sits down, a little bit disillusioned.

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Tex Canaan tried to brush away his disappointment, tried to place his thoughts on something else. He drew one of his Colt pistols out in a non-threatening manner and removed the ammunition. He made a habit of regularly cleaning the guns, but it never hurt to give them a quick once-over. He set the weapon and the .45 rounds on the table before checking out the other pistol.

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Tex Canaan is finally satisfied that both weapons are in perfect working order. He reloads them, checking each round as he does, then holsters one. The other he holds for a moment, pondering. How many times had he put these guns away, hoping never to have need of them again? The last time he'd done so, it nearly cost him his life. And it had nearly cost him . . . so much more. He holstered the second weapon with a little bit more force than was necessary, disgusted at the cold iron device. It sickened him that he had to rely on something like that. He shouldn't have to. He had to hold on to them though. If he didn't then . . . then others, innocents, might get hurt when he had the power to stop it.