Lucian

“You may call me Lucian - but my true name…”

“Was stolen from me in a game of cards, along with all my fortunes n bells n whistles.” “I said "sure" when someone asked for my name, then I gave it to them, like a fool.” “I had to trade something for my plate at the cafe, but then realized I had nothin on me worth enough, and I wasn’t about to give ’em blood.” “I sold it at an auction. For fun.” “A Bear ate my ID, my birth certificate, and my custom engraved dog tags, but not me. I woke up 3 miles from base camp with my feet in a creek and a crack in my skull. Took my left boot, too.” “I forgot it. What? You never forget something important before? I’ll remember eventually.” “I don’t think you’ve drunk enough for that one. Buy me some vittles, too.”

Where most cowboys from Lucian’s range would load up on silver bullets and wooden stakes, Lucian has a penchant for good old trusty iron. Says it’s for good luck - but see, there’s other things about these parts that, frankly, require little more than a well placed iron horseshoe to ward off. Just like the one hung from his neck like some sort of funky pendant.

“Once, me ‘n my first ever beau were out starskipping - you ever been starskipping? No? Shame, it’s real fun - and he said "Tess, you ever thought about leaving this valley?" I said no, course not, I’ve too much to miss about this weird little place. Heh. It’s odd though, Tess… that’s not my name.”