Name: Monty Maddox: "The Khaki Killer"
Age: 92 years
Gender: Male
Appearance: Height: 5'4"
Hair: Salt and Pepper grey, kept short and close to his head. At its longest it is only two and a half inches.
Eyes: Glassed over with bitter years and more loss than an unlucky man in a casino. The sides of his eyes are drooping with age and his eyelids are heavy and dark. His irises are dark brown and his left eye has a torn pupil.
Skin: Surprisingly pale, being covered from head to toe constantly even when you're outside prevents tanning. As expected in an old man he's wrinkly and covered with bruises from small scrapes and bumps.
Clothes: From head to toe he's covered in khaki colored leather, it was hewn from the skin of a horse that he killed with his bare hands. Held together with dark leather straps, also made from that same horse. It is a five piece outfit composed of: A wide brimmed gaucho hat with a single red string coiled around the base, a pair of high boots with rubber soles worn down from decades of walking (Somehow still holding together after all these years.), a western duster with exactly seven straps running down the front with brass buckles holding it closed, underneath is a thin cloth shirt he found in the rubble of a burnt building it's charred in some places but holds remnants of its old color (red), and last is a pair of pants that are held on by a dark leather belt and tattered around the ankles.
Paraphernalia: On his waist are two guns that are loosely hooked to his pants, they're massive revolvers w- Ah fuck it, here's a picture of them, they're twins so:
Personality: Not exactly the strong silent type, but he doesn't talk much. And when he does, every word holds more meaning than I can easily describe. Cruel and unfeeling when met in combat, he won't hesitate to blow your head across three counties.
History: Born just near the beginning of it all, he managed to live through some of the creation of 'society.' When he was nine his mother and father left him, told him to be strong, that they had to do something important. And that one day he should do something important too. So he's spent his entire life hunting for meaning. That didn't work out too well when he fell into line with a group of raiders. He became known as the Khaki Killer for wearing his pure khaki colored outfit. After the raider group's leader raped a woman he slit the entire group's throats in the night and left. Somewhere between then and now he got his hands on Bad and Ugly. Since then he's been wandering the world, traveling from city to city and doing what he can to find purpose and survive.
Objectives: What? You expect and old man who's on the cusp of death to have a plan for the future? You expect him to think about twenty years from now? When he'll be a corpse in the ground? No. He doesn't have any objectives, and even if he did he wouldn't tell you.
Skills/Powers:- His Guns: Not necessarily a power, but these guns are insane. They have a rotater cuff that switches out the cylinders once one runs out of ammunition, each one has six chambers full of bullets. The guns themselves are composed primarily of dirty iron and bronze, where he got them or if he made them himself is unknown. Though, the latter is more likely. Neither of them can be fired in quick succession, the design of the guns themselves makes this impossible. So he fires them one after another. (They're still technically single action revolvers.
1: Bad is his right hand gun, the bullets in its chambers are solid chunks of lead packed tightly against a thick layer of gunpowder, they launch out at massive speeds and can punch holes in the sides of engine blocks.
2: Ugly is his left hand gun, the bullets in its chambers are made of shreds of metal and salt packed against a thinner layer of gunpowder. They launch out in a wide spread and cause devastation to anything they make contact with. Especially flesh.
- Expert Marksman: With Bad he can fire a bullet from the barrel all the way into the head of a mouse from 100 yards away. The same cannot be said about Ugly, because Ugly can't be aimed.
- Feels No Recoil: Despite not having any exceptional physical abilities beyond that of an old man, his guns do not kick for him. When in his hands the shockwave from the twin massive revolvers does not affect him, period.
Profession: A wanderer, he does nothing for anyone, everything he does is for himself. Even if it does make sense to you, it makes sense to him. That or he's just a fucking crazy old man.
