Name: Arthur Flanagan II
Gender: Male
Age: 64
Species: Once human, now a ghost
Family: Arthur's father was Arthur Flanagan, Sr., and his mother was Susan Ridgeworth. Arthur was the father of Arthur Flanagan III, Samantha Robertson, and Walter Flanagan; he was also the grandfather of Derek and Lisa, Arthur III's children, Albert, Mary's son, and George and William, Walter's boys.
Personality: Arthur was a stern, no-nonsense kind of guy. He believed that hard work and perseverance were the key to every man, and he proved his ideals every day out in the fields. He took no guff from anyone, not even his own family, and made sure he raised his children good and proper. He was never abusive, but he believed in a firm hand when it came to discipline. Above all, he never slowed down, not even in old age. Arthur was always working on something or another, and for the most part it was to make his family's life a better one. He was always adding and removing rooms and fixtures to the house, and always made sure he grew enough food for his family first and foremost.
History: Arthur was a product of an older time, an older generation. Some may have called him jaded, but he preferred to call it firm beliefs and ideals. He was the son of Arthur Flanagan, Sr. and he showed it in his every move, word, and action. He was one of the hardest workers on his father's farm, and for the most part made his old man proud. His father taught him the firm moral values and no-backtalk attitude he had in life, and proved his worth through work just as Arthur did after him. After growing older, marrying his childhood sweetheart Elizabeth, and settling down on his father's old farm, Arthur resolved to teach his children the same values and morals his father did him. However, Arthur was not expecting a daughter, and as such almost raised her as a son before Elizabeth graciously intervened. Arthur did get his chance at raising a child, however, as he and Elizabeth had not one, but two more boys; three years apart. His eldest son, who he named Arthur after his father, was more receptive to his teachings, but Walter, named after Arthur II's uncle, proved to be a bit more of a handful. Arthur almost had a second daughter, but what would have been Sierra Flanagan was a stillborn, and both Arthur and Elizabeth grieved, but little Sierra's death hit Elizabeth the hardest. She fell ill, her immune system unable to fight back from her lack of sleep. Arthur tried his best to help Elizabeth, but it was too late. She had succumbed to sickness, and died much too early at the age of 44. Arthur, then 47, spent the rest of his life mourning Elizabeth's death. His children were old enough to make their own living by now, but Arthur spent every waking hour doing what he always did. To cope, or to honor Elizabeth's memory; his reasons were taken with him to his grave. Some say that the day Elizabeth died was the day Arthur died; they wouldn't be far from the truth. Though Arthur carried out his daily tasks with the same amount of effort, his passion was gone. It is said that Arthur just died one day, his body fallen in the middle of the field only for his ghost to rise and pick up right where he left off.
Current Goal/Purpose: Do ghosts have a purpose? Maybe. Arthur remains behind in this run-down old house because it was all he knew. After Elizabeth died, Arthur felt he had no more purpose in life. He follows the same routine day after day that he followed after his beloved's death. Some of the bolder kids who come up the the abandoned house come back with stories of "an old cowboy dude" who wanders the overgrown farmland, still acting as though he were growing crops and raising livestock.
Appearance: Arthur appears as he did in life: Tough and wiry, yet definitely aged. He is by no means decrepit, however, and his worn, nearly tattered cowboy's garb tells the tale of his life on the ranch. Though he appears resolute, one can see the pain and regret in his eyes. If one could touch him, his skin would feel leathery, almost calloused, from all the years of toil and hard labor. His muscles would be aged, but still wiry and very much powerful. His face, wrinkled from age, sorrow, and grief, would tell a thousand tales; you have but to ask.
