<div class="floatleft">(http://i247.photobucket.com/albums/gg157/onilobo/Marston_zps11eddc0b.png)</div><strong>Character Name (PC/NPC):</strong>Edgar Marston Harlaw Jr.<br/><strong>Year/House:</strong>Unsorted First year<br/><strong>Relationship Status:</strong>Sowing his wild oats<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Red Plaid cowboy shirt, cowboy hat, faded, well worn wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, rattlesnake skin belt and buckle. (http://images.luvimages.com/luvphotos/j/jason_aldean_in_a_cowboy_hat_and_plaid_shirt-1276.jpg)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bern Carriage<br/><strong>Date:</strong>September 1<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Afanassii, Emillie, Rei after being kicked out of the changing room with Virgie<hr/><br/>The scuffle in the changing room grew a little louder, it was as if some playful wrestling was going on before it opened and Marston was shoved out. "Alright alright...I'm going, I'm going...I can take a hint and see when a fell'ar isn't wanted..." He was saying as a half dressed Virgie shoved him out, but before the doors closed, Marston plucked his hat back and grinned as the door was slammed in his face. "Ooooooo weeeee, do I have a knack for picking the ornery ones."  He said to himself and the crowd waiting to get into the changing rooms. Those who didn't know English simply stared, those who did, just rolled their eyes at the "Stupid American". Marston grinned like the fox in the hen house (as his grandma would say) as he winked at a few girls, earning the ire of some of the boys as he made his way back to the little group he had left behind a few minutes back.<br/><br/>"I'm back, did ya miss me?" Marston strolled up to the group, replaced his guitar with his ass as dropped down on the bench it had sat on to join the other three and their menagerie of animals. He spotted the wands and the tarot cards they were handling and grew a little curious. "That's some pretty cool stuff, where can I get a wand or some cards? I think it's time I gave this wizard stuff a good ol college try.But what I really want to check out is those winged black horses again. Have any of you seen one up close? It looked a little sickly and thin, but I only caught a brief look at one flying once, back home in Texas." He shared his story as he tapped his fingers on the case of his guitar to a song he had played so often, it had become (unintentionally) the song he thought of his father, despite all the others the man had taught him.