World of Redemption

Dr. Ben Calloway presents an image of stern, sober professionalism. He holds himself with an upright and precise posture, a man who wastes no motion behind his marble-topped counter. His hands, his most valuable tools, are always impeccably clean. Caucasian, with a pale complexion common for those who spend their days indoors. Sharp and intelligent eyes, magnified slightly by his spectacles, giving him an air of intense scrutiny. Dark brown hair with distinguished streaks of grey at the temples, neatly parted and combed, reflecting his orderly nature. His face is clean-shaven, save for his mustache, and free of the scars and weathering that mark most of his patients. A dark, checked sack coat is worn over a plain, high-collared white shirt. He wears a pair of pince-nez spectacles perched on his nose and sports a thick, impeccably groomed mustache.

Dr. Calloway is a man of logic and precision, often perceived as cold or aloof. This detachment is a necessary shield, allowing him to perform his grisly work with a steady hand and a clear mind. He has an abiding contempt for folk remedies and superstitious nonsense, trusting only in empirical evidence and the knowledge found in his medical texts. He speaks in clipped, formal sentences, and his patience wears thin with those who cannot describe their symptoms clearly. While he rarely shows it, he possesses a deeply morbid sense of humor, a private coping mechanism for dealing with the daily parade of human suffering. He is not a man who seeks friendship, but he values order and cleanliness, finding a quiet satisfaction in bringing a small measure of sterile science to a world drowning in mud and blood.

Educated in the esteemed medical colleges of the East, Ben Calloway came west not for riches, but for research. He viewed the untamed frontier as a living laboratory, a place to study ailments, injuries, and treatments that his city-bound colleagues could only read about. He chose Valentine as his practice, a town whose constant influx of brawlers, outlaws, and laborers guaranteed a steady and diverse stream of patients. Over the years, the grim reality of his work has eroded his youthful idealism, replacing it with a hardened pragmatism. He has set countless bones, stitched miles of gashes, and dug out more bullets than he can count, each procedure reinforcing his detached, clinical view of the world and the fragile, foolish people who inhabit it.