✶ Clinton Law ✶
The Ceaseless Sheriff
Name:
Clinton "Clint" Law
Alias:
Sheriff
Age:
Around 200? 28? Maybe 50? Depends on the perspective.
Race:
Undead Human
Homeplanet:
Earth
Skills/Powers:
As a result of his bones' exposure to the pathogen, Clint is extremely durable. He can easily shrug off powerful blows and extreme conditions. This doesn't mean his joints are invincible. Connected via a thin and practically invisible faux-muscle, Clint has only above average joint strength. Compared to regular humans, it's considerably harder to damage his joints. However, severe damage from things like being struck by cars, punched by super-strength wielding maniacs, or being blown up cause his bones to separate and go flying. In addition to his durability, Clint is practically immortal. He is unable to age, doesn't need sustenance, and can keep himself busy with hobbies. This doesn't mean he can't be killed, however. His bones, despite being extremely durable, are still breakable. If his skull is damaged, he can 'not think the smart', and he surmises that if his skull is completely destroyed, he will effectively die.
Clint's special talents include sharpshooting and regular shooting. He was born to be a gunfighter. He is immeasurably accurate and swift, able to shoot inside the barrel of a gun and draw faster than someone can even reach for their gun. His greatest strength in gunfighting is his sheer recklessness. Rather than being reckless because he trusts in his immortality, he was always a dangerous man.
Clint's special talents include sharpshooting and regular shooting. He was born to be a gunfighter. He is immeasurably accurate and swift, able to shoot inside the barrel of a gun and draw faster than someone can even reach for their gun. His greatest strength in gunfighting is his sheer recklessness. Rather than being reckless because he trusts in his immortality, he was always a dangerous man.
Equipment:
Clint comes wearing his sheriff's uniform, and he wields his customized Model 1886 and Smith & Wesson Model 27. For less dangerous encounters, he uses less powerful rounds with rubber bullets.
Affiliation:
Formerly, The Law. Currently alone.
Alignment:
Good
Short-Bio:
Clint was the sheriff. He enforced the law. No criminal could ever match him in a fight. It would only make sense that he would finally take that last bullet to save some kid. But that's all in the past. He met his maker and died.
Then he came back. Clint wasn't too sure on the exact details, but he woke up in a in-the-process-of-being-destroyed museum. He felt considerably lighter. The first thing he saw was a fleshy behemoth trying to ground pound some kid who was bawling. Clint had to help. Long story short, he gained a rifle and saved a terrified kid.
He realized he was now a skeleton, but he felt as thought it would be better to not dwell on such petty things. Using clothes from the museum and a revolver he found on the ground, Clint continued. This wasn't his world. More specifically, this was Florida. With nothing better to do, Clint decided to go home. For some odd reason, things kept on happening around him. Bizarre life forms, evil people, rebellion, all of the sort. Clint kept on helping out, but he really just wanted to go home.
That's where he met his faithful deputy. Deputy, as he called her. She was a gremlin of a lass. Short, fiery temper. The two of them instantly hit it off with their devout sense of justice. After seeing his shooting skills, Deputy wanted to become his disciple. He couldn't refuse, so they continued to New Mexico together.
Things got out of hand and they ended up in New York. Turns out, both of them were very bad with directions. But that's when it happened. A calamity struck the city. Clint knew he had to stop it. Deputy knew she had to stop it. The two of them soldiered on and fought their way through the city. They made their way underground to stop it. But they couldn't. They tried their best, but it just didn't work. The damned bombs had gone off. They stopped enough to save the city, but not to save themselves.
When Cint awoke, Deputy was gone. A good man had helped fix his skull, mixing whatever bone dust that could be recovered with a golden metal. It tried to cover what was missing. With nothing else to do, Clint left New York and went forwards.
Then he came back. Clint wasn't too sure on the exact details, but he woke up in a in-the-process-of-being-destroyed museum. He felt considerably lighter. The first thing he saw was a fleshy behemoth trying to ground pound some kid who was bawling. Clint had to help. Long story short, he gained a rifle and saved a terrified kid.
He realized he was now a skeleton, but he felt as thought it would be better to not dwell on such petty things. Using clothes from the museum and a revolver he found on the ground, Clint continued. This wasn't his world. More specifically, this was Florida. With nothing better to do, Clint decided to go home. For some odd reason, things kept on happening around him. Bizarre life forms, evil people, rebellion, all of the sort. Clint kept on helping out, but he really just wanted to go home.
That's where he met his faithful deputy. Deputy, as he called her. She was a gremlin of a lass. Short, fiery temper. The two of them instantly hit it off with their devout sense of justice. After seeing his shooting skills, Deputy wanted to become his disciple. He couldn't refuse, so they continued to New Mexico together.
Things got out of hand and they ended up in New York. Turns out, both of them were very bad with directions. But that's when it happened. A calamity struck the city. Clint knew he had to stop it. Deputy knew she had to stop it. The two of them soldiered on and fought their way through the city. They made their way underground to stop it. But they couldn't. They tried their best, but it just didn't work. The damned bombs had gone off. They stopped enough to save the city, but not to save themselves.
When Cint awoke, Deputy was gone. A good man had helped fix his skull, mixing whatever bone dust that could be recovered with a golden metal. It tried to cover what was missing. With nothing else to do, Clint left New York and went forwards.