Boothill

Appearance: Boothill is a young adult man, tall in height and having a lean and slender build. A cyborg cowboy drifting among the stars. He's described as a man with a fair complexion, long shaggy hair cascading down his back that’s majority white with black on the tips and black fringe which covers the right of his grey eyes, bull’s eyes shaped pupils, two dots under his left eye, sharp teeth that seem rather chompy. His body from his neck downwards is made of lean steel, lacking the flesh and bone of common men. A robotic prosthetic that works just as well as a real human body, apart from requiring maintenance. He wears a modern cowboy outfit, befitting a galaxy ranger such as himself. A black cowboy hat with a red sash and feather adorning it, red shawl around his neck with black ends, a black crop top jacket decorated with trinkets and medals, black pants with red accents and chains, brown belt, brown thigh strap and a brown hustler storing a gun.

Personality: Boothill is an extremely optimistic and unrestrained cyborg cowboy who is also a member of the Galaxy Rangers, which are a group that punishes the wretched by any means necessary. With the little information about Boothill, it seems like his flamboyant and brash actions were all to draw the attention of the Interastral Peace Corporation — the target of his revenge. He tends to speak in a crude and outlandish fashion, however, his Synesthesia Beacon was tinkered with and any vulgar language is now censored to say kind of cutesy things. He cannot swear or speak badly of anyone, no matter how hard he tries.

Backstory: Boothill wasn’t always more man then machine, he had once been a child of flush and bone. He was found in the snow by two named Gray and Nick. The pair cautiously picked up the red-faced child as he cried incessantly. The child had a striking and beautiful name that in the ancient language of Aeragan-Epharshel meant "loaded gun." He grew up under the love and protection of Gray and Nick, as he played happily with his siblings. Though they all came from different places, they all now belonged to this vast continent of "Aeragan-Epharshel." Gray would take him to learn about plants, animals, and rivers. Nick would teach him how to tame horses and farm sheep. At a young age, he rode his colt across streams and followed Nick as they led their cattle to fields rich in water and greenery under the morning sun. Nick would always sing loudly as the light shone over the brilliant clouds. When he heard Nick raise his voice in song, he would open his mouth and release a clear and crisp song of his own. As he kicked at the colt's belly to take him faster, their laughter would spread further and further into the distance. As Gray and Nick raised the children day after day, their backs began to stoop with old age. Since becoming a cowboy, he mastered every skill there was to hunting. They charged through the sandy wastelands fighting bandits, making deals with merchants, and battling for places to survive with the beasts of the wilderness. He had narrowly escaped death, tasted the flavor of taking revenge on a rival gang, seen friends lose their lives in the flight of a bullet and seen families fall apart in mere moments... He lost many, yet gained a lot as well. In the end, his courage earned him status and respect. Now, he rarely saw his siblings during that time, but he knew that they are living well. In the silent night, he stared at the sky and thought about the greater world outside, when the sound of cries resounded loud and clear through the stillness of evening. Following the sound, he discovered a red-faced baby that would not stop crying. He had no idea what to do. But, he eventually picked her up as Gray had done so long ago before, and brought her home. The sound of Nick's gruff voice resounded in his ears... "The water here is smooth as fine wine, the cold snow is cutting like a knife, this place is... the perfect world."

But there was a day when things took a turn for the absolute worst. The shadow cast down by a spaceship eclipsed the moonlight across the plains. He jumped from the speeding train as it passed by with a roar. By the time the smoke and dust had settled, he'd already made it back to his base with his bounty. He raised his head to look up at the uninvited guests above. Well-dressed people in black walked out from the deck of the spaceship under the escort of guards armed to the teeth and onto the cowboy's land. He took something that the person in black called a "Synesthesia Beacon," as great, strange visions flooded into his mind. This is the first time he learned of the endless shining worlds outside the plains, forests, streams, and tracks that he knew. Giant excavators appeared on the horizon of the plains, completely disregarding protests from the locals. Then, black ore began to stream forth from the earth below. The heavily armed guards blasphemed against the local's beliefs, cast them out of their homes, and insulted their honor with meager compensation. As always, he and his partners turned to guerrilla warfare to fight off the advance of the people in black. However, in the face of absolute military might, the cowboys' schemes, marksmanship, and swift mounts all seemed so primitive and laughable. As the members of his family died one after another, he realized that unless he found the person who started all of this, he would never be able to bring things to an end. He put on a worker's uniform that he stole and snuck aboard the spaceship under the cover of night. With the instincts and sharp senses he had honed over years of hunting, he silently took down every guard that stood in his way and cleared every checkpoint and interrogation to reach the core cabin. He saw the figure of a man who seemed to be saying something to his subordinates. "Aeragan-Epharshel contains crucial strategic resources. He who claims it first will take great advantage in departmental competition. As these savage and uncivilized cowboys are unwilling to cooperate with the Marketing Development Department, we have no choice but to assume administration of this world on their behalf. We are running out of time. You are permitted to use military force and bring civilization to this world." A terrifying thought rushed into his mind. He frantically ran out. Around him, the employees were still joking and laughing. He held his breath and stifled his rage and tears... His family still needed him. He could not just stop here. Cannon fire rained down from the heavens. By the time he stumbled back to the farm that had now been reduced to ashes, the elderly Gray and Nick, as well as all the friends he'd grown up with, had already lost their lives to the sea of flames. He held on to a faint glimmer of hope that he would be able to find that tiny figure... She had only learned to walk a while ago and would gently slap at the little wooden guitar he had made for her and giggle. But no. There was nothing. The land was scorched black... he didn't even have time to erect a gravestone for the ones he'd lost. "The Interastral Peace Corporation... The Marketing Development Department..." This sight and these names rang through his mind like a nightmare that went on to be etched into his core. Even if he were to die and be born again, he would never forget this. According to the planetary records of Aeragan-Epharshel, the locals who roamed and farmed the land for generations were wiped out by an unknown disaster. The survivors, mostly frail elderly and youth, now only shelter in smaller and smaller reservations. To this day, that black ore is still used in massive quantities as a rare metal to create devastating weaponry, and is shipped out to more and more planets on fleets of IPC transport ships.

Those known as the IPC had taken over the planet he was raised on, killed his siblings, his adoptive fathers, the young daughter he had taken in as his own. Devastated his homeland. All that he found was charred fields and still burning fires, no bodies to bury in the aftermath.

Sailing towards a second life. He felt as if he had fallen into a deep sea. Everything was departing from him, leaving only his hollow thoughts writhing and struggling all alone. Terror, anxiety, loneliness, darkness, rage — these feelings didn't dissipate with his physical body, but remained within the mechanical shell in a different manner — and they were even heavier than before. He heard the call of the dead, smelled the scent of something being charred, the whirl of machinery buzzed around his ears, and the new blue blood flew towards his thirsty heart... Some cruel memories resurfaced as the unforgettable hatred turned into a weak light in the darkness. He followed the light to walk toward the end of it all, exerting every ounce of his strength to rise once again to the surface. He opened his eyes and a flash of fireworks darted past before hearing the doctor's congratulations — "Welcome to this world, once again." He balled his hands into fists — hands that were now made of cold iron... He would no longer live for himself.

Boothill nowadays is a Galaxy Ranger. The Galaxy Rangers is a voluntary formed group that travels around the cosmos to uphold Justice for the locals out of the belief that benevolence and justice must be upheld by personal action.

He no longer has a homeworld, a family or a daughter.