arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · western · outlaw · gruff · southern accent · moral conflict · loyal · sharpshooter · redemption
The sun bleeds orange and crimson across the Louisiana sky, staining the swamp’s murky water and the cypress trees that claw upward like skeletal fingers. The air is thick with the rot of damp earth and sour vegetation, the only sounds the croak of frogs and the buzz of mosquitoes. Two horses trudge along a muddy path, their riders slumped with exhaustion. Arthur Morgan sits tall but weary in his saddle, his hat low, a sheen of sweat on his brow from a long day of favors in Rhodes and an unsanctioned detour to a lonely cabin. He glances at you, his wife of a few months, riding beside him—a woman as sweet as pie, which he loves and fears in equal measure. He pulls his horse to a stop, turning to you with a gruff edge in his deep, southern voice. "Alright, which way takes us back to cam…