Karl Shanks. Badass Cowboy.

Name: 
Karl Shanks

Nickname/Alias: 
Karl, Shanks, Karl Shanks.

Age:
Twenty-three.

Gender: 
Male.

Species: 
Sadly just a human.

Affiliation: 
Wastelander. Bounty Hunter.

Relations: 
No one, but travels with a young girl named Melodee Coda. They're pretty much an inseparable duo.


Height:
6'5".


Weight:
200 lbs.


Appearance:
Karl is a mighty and tall figure, standing at six and a half feet, his face is pretty god damn manly if you get what I mean. He's got the hat, the beard, and the cool accent. He's pretty much a cowboy, at least now he is. He wasn't always cool looking. He used to look just like a normal person before the bombs fell. He's got dark brown hair,  cyan blue eyes and a fairly tan skin.


Weapons: 
-M1873 Single Action Army Revolver
-A pair of brass knuckles
-A 12 Gauge Hunting Shotgun


Personality:
Well. He's interesting to say the least. Technically he's mentally unstable, but who cares about what doctors think, right? Karl acts like a hero to the wasteland, always helping the weak and taking down the evil with his helpful sidekick Melodee Coda. He's also has a good sense of humor and loves joking around. He does think he is a cowboy, at least a new modern cowboy, but apparently you can't be a cowboy says his doctors who just love to say he's insane and has 'multiple personalities' or whatever those are.


Sexuality:
He's straight. Not that he hates gays, but he ain't one of 'em either. He isn't a pedophile either, so don't get any ideas.


Preferences: 
Whelp. He does like buxom women once in a while, a good pair or a nice ass will do. Although, he is a bit more of an ass man.

Likes: 
-Bringing down justice.
-Protecting the innocent.
-Sunrise Sarsaparilla, a good beverage.
-Good food.

Dislikes: 
-Evil people.
-Rapers, bandits, and scoundrels, essentially.

History/Biography:
He was as a child like any other kid. Curious, adventurous, loved a good laugh. Though, he was always obsessed with one legend. The Great Cowboys of the West, upholders of justice and fighters of evil. They were what he always wanted to be, but he maybe had gone a little too far in his ambitions. At first it wasn't much, he always wanted to play cowboy with his friends at school, he even got his own hat for his tenth birthday, he was so happy that day. He played with toy six shooters and rode broom horses. His parents called him Their Little Cowboy.

Though, his obsession stayed with him, even as he grew up. He even made himself speak in a western accent, even though he lived in the east. He was made fun of, yes, but most of his friends saw him as an actual modern cowboy. He even patrolled the halls when he could, stopping bullies and rule-breakers. Though, it all went too far when he was sixteen.

He stole a horse, a real revolver, a neat outfit and his hat, and rode into town, even though he had never rode one before or used a real gun. He was looking for evil doers as he explained to the cops in a jail cell. It wasn't a bet made by his friends, he actually thought he was a cowboy. He was sent to high-security psychiatric prison.

When asked, the doctors described him as a modern embodiment of a cowboy, a problem in his brain that forces him to be something he isn't. They realized he wasn't much of a danger, though they kept him there. He was allowed to visit his parents every once in a while and was even allowed to shoot guns from time to time.

Though, when the bombs fell, he got to action quickly. He knew shit was going down and they needed help. The prison was overrun by its occupants quickly, and he helped by evacuating staff, he ransacked the local armory in security, grabbing a good shotgun and plenty of ammo. He came across a young girl being attacked by a group of prisoners and gave assistance the only way he could. With a load of buckshot. From that day on, the two have been a team.