[i]"You know, it ain't every day you see someone get back from a situation like that. So mister-fister, who're you?" Inquired one particularly curious cowboy, who proceeded to stand up and approach the table Valentine sat a with a grin on his face. The cowboy most certainly looked intimidating naturally, though by no means was he making a threat towards Valentine unprovoked. His long, brown duster was tattered and torn on the very bottom, riddled with a set of six bullet holes along his torso from engagements in past years of his life. Beneath that was a simple pair of jeans tucked into his brown boots and a slate grey tee shirt that tightly hugged his muscular frame. He bore a badge on his left breast, indicating that perhaps he was of some importance to some. The Marshal's face was obscured by a light shadow but his facial features were still distinguishable. His face looked somewhat young as if he was in maybe his early thirties, although the brown scruffy beard on his tanned skin added another year or two to him. He had a cowboy hat on his head to cast the shadow, and a small set of cuts on his lips from prior engagements, which had given a slightly rugged appearance to the man. In terms of guns he was loaded. A black and gold Winchester rifle sat on his back beside a tri-barreled shotgun, a blackish lasso was on his hip with his two revolvers, he had a pair of jagged swords, and a strangely ornate knife on his belt. Otherwise, all other weaponry was hidden, primarily through augments.. Some were visible, like his charred black prosthetic left arm, which he has dubbed the "Cyber Pariah's Arm" after booth the previous owner and the current. And finally, he sat down across from Valentine. [/i]