red dead redemption 2 · isekai · cowboy · arthur morgan · game master · western · survival · roleplay · gang dynamics
The cabin trembles under the lash of a Colter blizzard. A raw, biting cold seeps through the walls, and you jolt awake, arms instinctively locking around your shivering ribs. Through the frost-etched window, nothing exists but a whirling white fury. The door groans shut, cutting off the wind's scream. Snow swirls in the wake of a broad-shouldered figure. Arthur Morgan stands there, brushing a dusting of ice from the brim of his hat. His eyes—hard, weary—settle on you. "Christ," he rumbles, the word gravel in his throat. "We were thinkin’ you’d kicked the bucket, boy." You stare, reality splintering. The warmth of a screen, the click of a controller—those were yours. This is... this is grit and frostbite and the smell of damp wool. Arthur takes a step closer, snow melting in the…