523 - 898

Even though Graham’s ancestry lies in Scotland, he was born and raised in the US in the early 6th century.

His parents – both ancient and old Cù Sìth that had been guarding the lands since eternity – had to flee Scotland when the Christianization started in the late 4th century and magical beings got hunted and killed as they were seen a violation of God's order.

So they settled in a desert town in Arizona, posing as immigrant humans. But while Graham grew up he had severe problems retaining his human form and when people saw him turning into a pup, hell broke loose. To avoid being killed for witchcraft the family had to flee again, even deeper into the Sonoran Desert, condemned to a life of solitude until Graham would become of age to properly blend in with humanity and hide his origin.

Although the road was rocky, he grew up happily and loved by his parents.

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899 - 1746

When Graham turned 550 (equals about 21 in “human-years”) and was ultimately old enough to care for himself, his parents decided it was time for them to go back home. A Cù Sìths power is highly connected to their birthplace and the years of running and hiding drained them greatly. Despite it paining him tremendous to let his parents go, Graham decided to stay in Arizona. It was his home after all.

To escape the seclusion of his now quite empty house, he moved into the outskirts of the nearest town and took on the job of a bounty hunter for the local police department. With his overly distinct sense of smell it was a piece of cake for him to hunt down criminals on the run in no time. Feared for this and his inhuman strength, he was able to cut down the criminal records in his town to be virtually zero over the course of only a few years. This made him famous and loved by the town’s residents but notorious and hated by their outlaws. To say he was a problem for them would have been quite an understatement.

Since he had no family left in the country and it was difficult for him to bond, as he was afraid of being unmasked as a mythical creature if people came to close, Graham pretty much dedicated his whole life and free time to his job. He took on every task, no matter how hard or dangerous alone, because one of his worst fears was failing to protect the people of his town. Because life expectancy of the people back then was not quite high, nobody really questioned why he did not age as fast as them – They all died on him before genuinely realizing it.

Graham became warden and guidance for generations of generations of his townspeople and loved all of them deeply from the bottom of his heart. He could feel no greater joy as to witness them growing up into – mostly – proper people and making families of their own. Protecting them was his whole life. They all admired him for his commitment as well, but they also knew he preferred to watch over them from afar, so they left him to it. All in all they were pretty fine with it that way, since despite his reputation and kindness, he was still quite intimidating and eerie to them. Graham didn’t mind, as long as he was able to keep watch over them.

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1747

One fateful day in 1747, Graham took on another seemingly simple enough case alone. Some wannabe criminals had broken into the Butchers shop two towns over and stole some gold and kitchen tools, probably to melt them down and sell the iron.

Even though Graham wondered about why he had to deal with such a trivial task, he asked no unnecessary questions – like always – and went on his way. On the half a day long ride he more than once felt watched and followed, but his nose was not able to pick up any unusual scent. When he dismounted his horse for a small water break in the cool shadows of a canyon-valley however, he finally saw his assumptions confirmed. The police commander had followed him, which is why he had not picked up the scent – It stuck to him as well, since the two of them had spent some time together discussing his tasks and payment, shook hands and such.

Graham thought nothing bad of it, why would he? They had known each other since a long time and the commander was one of the persons he’d consider close to him. He must have forgotten to tell him some details about the robbery. But upon inquiring the reason for his pursuit, Graham had to learn quite an uncomfortable truth: He had been betrayed.

His superior and divine man-hunting was quite the thorn in a lot of people’s sides, especially those concerned with illegal affairs and trading. The police itself was rendered useless by the majors of every surrounding town, since he pretty much took over all the dirty work and they just leaned back and waited for him do solve their problems. They were threatened to lose their jobs and ultimately saw no other choice then to sell Graham out as they alone were not able to measure up to him and his sense of righteousness would never let them keep Graham away from his work.

It took quite a while for the commanders’ words to sink in; it was way too much to process, more so to believe. He had known his family for generations and worked for each and every one of them. They were righteous people. But when he picked up several other scents coming closer rapidly, he knew it was true.

Shortly after, he was surrounded by about a dozen heavily armed outlaws. They had been preparing for this for quite a while, obviously. And even though Graham hated killing, he would not go down without fighting, that much was clear.

The fight was short, but hard. In a matter of minutes he had ripped half the men to pieces with brute force, getting shot and sliced several times in the process. He was bleeding vast and his peripheral vision started to blur. He might have been tougher and more insensitive to pain and injuries due to being an ancient being, but he was in no way immortal, so this was becoming a problem. The adrenaline pumping through his veins started to subside and he felt his arms and legs going numb, still his sheer anger kept him standing. He was ready to go down fighting, when he heard a final shot go off behind him. He could only feel the pain for a few short moments before the anguish and his blood loss became too much even for his body and rendered him unconscious.

When he recovered to his senses again, his whole body hurt. But at least that meant he was alive, didn’t it? He was leaning against something cold and hard, sitting on the equally feeling floor. The only thing he was able to smell was dampness, burnt flesh and blood. A lot of blood, not only his, but that of several others. One scent however he could not quite designate, but the pain made it impossible for him to think rationally. He forced his heavy eyelids open to make out where he was. He knew right away, he had been here every day for the past 20 years of his life. He was in his towns jail, but this time on the wrong side of the bars. He looked down on himself, aside from several filthily sewn up bullet and stab wounds he was also heavily bound and shackled. Graham squinted, not apprehending the meaning of this at all. When he looked around he finally saw a person standing in front of the bars of his cell. His vision was still blurry so he had to concentrate quite a lot to make out his towns major. He was fuming and by the looks of it had been crying and screaming a lot, as his eyes were a deep shade of crimson, just as the rest of his face and neck.

Upon asking why exactly he had been restrained, the major started screaming, insulting him with slurs Graham never even heard of and throwing dirt he picked off the ground right at his face. He was more than puzzled as to why he would end up jailed and abused, both verbally and physically for getting ambushed. But then it dawned on him that most likely the commander himself had brought him back while unconscious…

Right on cue said one entered the cell-tract and tried soothing the major as well as he could. Graham watched the scene glaring at the both of them and after the commander had managed to guide the major out of the room, he came back to his cell smiling deviously. It did not take much for Graham to figure out he had been set up, but for what was beyond him. Unfortunately he had to find out soon enough; they had raped and murdered the major's’ daughter – and framed it on him. Graham was devastated. As with all the villagers he had seen her grow up, as he did her mother and all the generations before. She never got the chance to grow up before the monsters came for her.

Betrayed and broken Graham was sentenced to death by hanging. The execution was scheduled for the next day; they could not get rid of him soon enough it seemed. Although he could transform into his ancient form to flee, he had already resigned and was prepared to die the next morning. The thought of his towns’ people looking at him with hate and disgust in their eyes, calling him a rapist, a murderer, throwing stones at him was nothing he would be able to bear. He loved them way to much.

Exhausted he fell into a restless and short slumber. He dreamed of blood and dead until he awoke with a start again with a rapidly beating heart and the realization that he was not alone. After he calmed down a bit, he smelled the commander's’ son, only nine at that time, was paying him a visit, hiding in the shadows of the night. Despite everything, Graham smiled. He loved they boy, just as much as he had loved his father until recently. It was not his fault everything turned out like this and he would surely not blame him if he came to insult him as well. Upon request why he was here and not in his bed where he belonged, the boy emerged from the shadows and came close to the bars of the cell. His eyes were puffy and red. Graham’s heart ached; he did not know what to say to be comforting at all. The silence between them was worse than being shouted at, he reckoned. But he would surely not break it to the boy that his father was a monster, his last act on this world would not be such a disgusting and vengeful one, he determined. Until the boy withdrew a set of keys and opened the cell.

Graham looked at him bemused; berating him of how he could not just slip into the cell of a criminal, a murder even, but the boy just shook his head no. He had overheard his father talking about the events of the day and the execution with an accomplice. He knew Graham was innocent and never believed, not even once, that he would have been capable of hurting any of them, knowing how much he loved the villagers. The boy took out a kitchen knife he had stolen (and was berated for it once again) and cut loose the ropes Graham was constrained with as well as removing the shackles with the keys. Graham rubbed his bleeding wrists, pondering about what to do. If he would flee now, he had nowhere to go. Leaving all his beloved townspeople behind in the belief that he indeed was what they had made him out to be seemed so much worse than dying for it.

But the kid would have none of it and grouched at him for the first time in his young life - Graham owed it to the major's daughter to live and “kill the bad guys for what they’d done”. It took the boy a good deal of suasion but in the end, Graham agreed to leave.

After he had made sure the boy had come back home safely without getting caught, he vanished into the night, now branded as one of those he had sworn to keep away from his beloved town…

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1748 – Today

Over the course of the next years, he became a lonely wanderer. He had first planned on returning back to his old family home out in the desert but decided against it. It was way too close to his town and chances where high that he would be found there, once the commander started searching for him.

Without a purpose or destination he filled with bitterness and grief. But he had promised to keep on living, so that is what he did. To avoid getting recognized he spent several years in his ancient form, as he was not exactly ordinary as a human, given his size and demeanor. Despite everything that had happened he was not able to travel far, until his feelings of obligation drove him back close to his hometown...

• He’s very peculiar and meticulous with his beard
• He loves each and every animal. Sometimes he visits the ranch just to pet and brush the horses
• He takes in strays and wounded animals. There’s a lot of critters that need help in the desert, it’s his passion ever since he retired from his job
• The Shotgun he carries is not really intended for shooting but to scare people away
• He regularly takes on his ancient form - which is a large, white dog - to visit his old hometown. In the end he still guards it one way or another

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Mature/NSFW Content Information

• Blood, Bruises, Wounds and/or Scars allowed
• Excessive Violence and/or Gore allowed
• Various Horror-Elements fitting the Character allowed | Ask me if you're unsure!

Please refrain from drawing anything overly extreme without asking me first!