Name: Chris Buckwood
Nicknames/alias: Buck
Age:39
Place of birth & ethnicity: Watkinsville, Georgia. White.
Gender: M
Occupation: Gambler, "merchant", conman.


Appearance: Buck sticks out in a crowd, thats for sure. His skin has somehow stayed relatively pale. His build is tall, thin, and gangly. His arms and legs are long and he walks as if he is always about to topple over, even if he is quite coordinated.

His head is shaved bald, and his light blonde hair makes his eyebrows hard to see. He had a beard that starts at the top of his ears and covers his jaw and chin, sticking off and outwards, looking like the bottom of a broom. Is's light color makes it hard to see under certain lighting conditions. His face is his most prominent feature, with deep set, dark green eyes that are almost always overshadowed. His skin is pulled tight over his face, as if there wasn't enough to go around and he had to make do. His cheek bones and jaw are highly pronounced, making it almost cringe-worthy when he swivels and adjusts his jaw. It's almost skull-like, all of this results in a tight-lipped, hungry looking smile.

Clothing: A dark red suit made of cloth with white undershirt, as well as dark red pants and leather boots. Atop his shiny bald dome is a black bowler hat.

Personal style: Anything that looks classy.
Personality: Despite his ghastly appearance, Chris managed to make it work in his favor, his ugliness somehow making him appear more genuine. After all, with a face like that, what could he have to hide? Lots, actually. Buck has a passion for "earning" money. Easy marks, manipulation, and the rare fair deal are what composes his income. He's friendly enough, but it's almost always a front. He's arrogant and clever, with a dark, sometimes mocking, sense of humor.

Habits: There's a silver coin that he deftly flips through his fingers.



Regular life skills: Buck is a conman, through and through. He gets people to trust him just enough to take their money, then he's gone the next morning. His silver tongue is a big part of how he's managed to do what he does for so long. He's also somewhat of a botanist, just as a little hobby.
Combat skills: He's unusually flexible and speedy. Other than that, he's a cruddy shot, but he's good with a kinfe.
Items on your person: Fifty dollars, scattered about his person. He also has a gold-plated pocket watch, a deck of expensive looking playing cards and a boring looking Cattleman revolver. He also has several daggers hidden throughout his apparel, ready to pull out and stab anyone who gets grabby.
Additional stuff: A surprisingly well crafted fold-out cards table, some changes of clothing, extra cards, snake-oil products, and some extra small knives.


What brings you to Haylliesburg: These small town shmucks should be some easy marks. He's just passing through, looking to make some extra cash before moving onto a bigger city.

Your life before coming to Haylliesburg: He's lived the life of a nomad, hopping from settlement to settlement scamming hard-working folk of their money along the way with rigged gambling games and snake-oil products. It's not like he doesn't enjoy playing a fair and square poker game, it's just that he likes money more. This all started when he was younger, when his honest merchant father and mother got conned out of a living. After his parent's General Store closed, his father went into the mines and came back physically disabled, and his mother couldn't exactly find work, so it was up to Chris to try and make the family's money as a rare single child.

He was no good at hard labor, and he never had high education, so it seemed like he couldn't find a way of making money. That was until he realized he had a silver tongue and a sleight of hand. At first, he went into the saloons and attempted to get really good at games like Texas Hold 'Em Poker, Blackjack, and Liar's Dice. He got so good he could read people like a book, and while most players attempt to hide all emotions when they play poker, Chris spouts bullshit the whole game. After a few hands he could read his opponents like a book.

Even still, he wasn't making enough cash, so he decided to rig the odds in his favor. Slipping weighted die into cups, needed cards into hands, and sometimes even more creative ways of cheating (or positive outcome security, as Buck sometimes calls it) had him begin raking in the cash.

Soon, it was no longer just about taking care of his aging parents, but about the sport of it all. He loved it. Then he thought he should throw in just a little more variety into his income, and began selling "snake-oil" products. Miracle substances and cures that can apparently solve all of live's problems in a single use. It was tough work at first, but he got the hang of it and began peddling useless goods to common folk who didn't know any better.

First, it was things like "Buckwood's Miracle Cure; Polio be-gone!" but that didn't work because they would go and try it out on a sick individual and find out his fraud right away. Then, it was things like Miracle Bait or Insta-Grow, things that hunters and farmers would have to go out into the fields and try out before they discovered they'd been had, and by then Buckwood would be out of town.

His parents eventually passed away, but Buckwood had found his calling.
Eventually, he ran into some people who were more perceptive than the others, and even worse, people who were perceptive AND angry. That's why he carries around several hidden knives in various useful places on his person. His sleight of hand can have it so a person can be on the floor with a knife in their leg before they even realize Buckwood's got out of his chair.

And so, for the last decade, he's been wandering the developing west, pulling scams and cheating people out of their hard-earned money. Even if he get's shot, he'll die doing what he loves.

• roleplayerguild.com/topics/87122-stekk..

Name: Lauren Cartier

Nicknames/alias: "Matey"

Age: 34 (Debatable, depending on the actual year)

Place of birth & ethnicity: Red River Colony, Rupert's Land, Canada. Métis.

Gender: Male

Occupation: Bounty hunter, Soldier (Formerly), Huntsman (Formerly).



Apperance: Lauren is lanky and tall, he has an average build. He is long-haired and has short facial hair. He has light skin and almond eyes, his hair is a dark black. Lauren has a large scar on his lower back, and has a rife bullet located somewhere in his lower abdomen. He has long hair, reaching his shoulders. He has a round face and high cheekbones.

Clothing: Lauren often wears a small black jacket with cuffed sleeves over a similarly black waistcoat, a gold pocket watch chain hung over it. He has a brown gun-belt on his waist for his revolver. He wears black trousers and brown boots. He also wears a large black brimmed hat. When in Indian territories, he wears an outfit once worn by his grandfather, a Blackfoot elder. When in this outfit, the only thing that prevents him from appearing fully native is his white skin. It is comprised of a loose-fitting shirt, chaps, and moccasins.

Personal style: Lauren is often sharply dressed, wearing suits and jackets that are in fashion in Europe. When riding or performing a bounty, he trades his fashionable attire for dark brown ponchos with beige trim, or worn dusters, already stained with a plethora of substances.

Personality: Lauren is taciturn and never talks about his past, he dislikes racism towards Indians due to his descent and especially dislikes bandits. Lauren is spiritual and often quick to bond with members of the Indian community. Lauren speaks the language of his people and French, and has little ability with English. He speaks English with a heavy accent and many pauses due to his unfamiliarity with the language's many confusing rules and clauses, as such, he prefers to stay quiet, when he does speak, it is often in monosyllabic words. Lauren is exceptional at hold-em, and is often found at a saloon table when not on a bounty. Lauren has little empathy, caring only on what he is about to do next, and not caring about anyone else his actions might affect.

Habits: When angry, Lauren's already heavy Quebecois accent becomes even heavier, and he rants in both his native tongues so fast not even native speakers understand him. He also has a habit of pushing against his lower back when distressed due to his scar.



Regular life skills: Lauren is a good tracker, and exceptional at riding, able to guide his horse with just his knees when aiming his rifle. He can barter well when he is pushed, and he is quite charismatic, owing to his handsome face and smooth French accent.

Combat skills: Lauren is an incredible marksman, especially when armed with a repeater or other rifle. He has a good quick-draw and is alright in a brawl.

Items on your person: Lauren carries a Cookson repeater and a Colt SAA, he also carries a beaver-fur hat, a gift from his father which he does not wear for risk of damaging it. He often has enough money on his person to afford a good horse. He also carries a hatchet and a hunting knife.

Additional stuff: Lauren has four sets of European style clothing, his bounty hunting duster and poncho, and his grandfather's outfit for visits to native territories.


What brings you to Haylliesburg: Lauren arrived at Haylliesburg a few months ago, stopping on his way to a bounty for a meal. Remembering the location, he returned recently to have some downtime before heading back out after bounties.

Your life before coming to Haylliesburg: Lauren Cartier was born in the Red River Indian territory to a native woman and a Voyageur by the name of Laurent. Lauren was raised mostly by his mother as a child, spending his time amongst the other Métis children and sometimes joining with the other Indians when they had ceremonies. Lauren especially idolized his grandfather, an elder among the Blackfoot who still made time to go out buffalo hunting with the young men. During his childhood, his father would periodically come around to check on him and teach him of the European culture, much to his mother's chagrin. At the age of four, his grandfather was shot by a bandit, his body dragged around by his horse so much it was barely recognizable. Soon after, his village was raided and his mother was killed, along with four in five of the village's inhabitants. Lauren was raised for four months by one of the now-homeless young hunters, Tired Condor, until his father, shocked and crying, came upon the two, shooting Condor dead due to a miscommunication. Lauren had already been through so much, and his father wasn't surprised to see the youth become walled-off and hard to talk to. Lauren's father, still a young man, retired to Quebec in order to raise the child. As a young man, Lauren returned to his home in the west, gathering the remaining members of his village together and holding a solemn vigil for the passed. A few years later, the Red River Rebellion broke out. Lauren enlisted into Louis Riel's army, serving on the firing squad of Thomas Scott, though he did not fire a single shot, instead fleeing south on horseback with all his possessions and reinventing himself as "Matey", a corruption of "Métis", for his ethnicity. He began serving as a bounty hunter and patron of the many Indian villages still thriving in the west.


Anything else you feel needs to be added, but doesn’t fit anywhere else.

• Lauren has also been known as Matey Scott and Al Revoir.
• Lauren prefers to not introduce himself by name, instead going as Matey most of the time.
• Lauren is a father, though he doesn't care for his children, and with many, isn't even aware they exist.
  
  Sample Post

Name: Josiah Solomon Murphy
Nicknames/alias: "Sarge" for those aware of his military history, "Mick" generally for when people learn of his Irish heritage.
Age: 40(Will be adjusted once the year of the RP is decided)
Place of birth & ethnicity: Dublin, Ireland, Irish
Gender: Male
Occupation: Bounty Hunter, occasional deputy.



Appearance: Josiah is an average-sized man, not much taller than most, and a relatively normal build. His brown hair is beginning to grey with age, and his face is wrinkling with the same. His green eyes are losing their youthful shine, dulling to a more mottled color. His muscular, but aged body bares several scars from knives and gunshot wounds, and he walks with a slight limp in his left leg.

Clothing: He wears a brown leather duster in most occasions, with a dirty bandana around his neck, an old US Army uniform shirt underneath. He wears long khaki pants tucked into black riding boots. He has a pistol holster at his belt, and a rifle sheath slung over his back.

Personal style: He generally sticks to long shirts and pants, with his usual riding boots and leather duster. In winter and cold weather he swaps the duster for a thick US Army double-breasted cavalry overcoat from the days of the Civil War.

Personality: A gruff, stern man, he hates lawbreakers and other criminals, often wanting them dead as soon as he hears of them. He's a notorious drinker, and a damn-good cards player.

Habits: When he's nervous or cautious, he'll often light up a cigar to calm his nerves. He makes a sure note to get at least one drink from the bar in every town he visits, as an odd sign of respect.



Regular life skills: He's strong, a good rider, great at giving orders and directing others, a good tracker, a fine cook, and a decent marksman
Combat skills: He's trained in use of cavlary sabers, revolver pistols, and repeater rifles.
Items on your person: His normal outfit, up to $10, a few cigars, a hip flask for alcohol, his Colt Dragoon revolver, and often a repeater rifle in his back sheath.
Additional stuff: A week's worth of spare clothing, his winter coat, spare ammunition for his rifle and pistol, his cavalry saber, a small framed photo of himself when he made Sergeant in the army, his horse, and a Catholic Bible.


What brings you to Haylliesburg: He's mainly looking for solid work as a deputy or other lawman, maybe a place to settle down. He's grown a bit tired of hopping from town to town looking for bounties, and would like a full-time job somewhere.

Your life before coming to Haylliesburg: Josiah was born in Dublin, Ireland, and lived there until he was about 4 years old. His parents had heard about the wonders of the United States, and decided to migrate there. With him, his parents, and his older brother, they lived in a small, dilapidated apartment in New York, with his father as a dockworker, and his mother schooling him and his brother to the best of her ability. When his brother grew old enough, he left their home and looked for work out west, occasionally sending back letters to tell the family how he was doing. This inspired young Josiah to want to make a life for himself out west as well, where the biggest opportunities presented themselves. However, when Josiah came of age, the American civil war had begun, and he was one of those chosen to serve. Having been one of the few inducted to serve in the US Cavalry, he took to it well for someone raised in the city. He would go on to reach the rank of Sergeant by the end of the war, and would leave the Army once the war had ended. With only his government stipend and the skills of a fighter, Josiah decided to set out west, taking up work as a roaming bounty hunter and lawman, helping towns fend off bandits, but never staying in one place for too long.


Anything else you feel needs to be added, but doesn’t fit anywhere else.

• http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3918948

Name: Albert Baldwin White

Nicknames/alias: Called Cato among the crewmen he served with –- not because he possessed any special philosophical wisdom, but ironically, for managing to stab himself (although accidentally) with his own knife while eating on his first day on board when he was 18. No nicknames otherwise.

Age: 30 years old.

Place of birth & ethnicity: Somewhere in Massachusetts country. His mother was traveling when her water broke so she gave birth in an improvised camp; he is an Anglo, worked in Nantucket and across New England mostly, and some menial jobs in various ports in Africa and Asia.

Gender: Male.

Occupation: Ex-crewman on a whaler who rose to a harpooner position after some years; now looking for a job on land.



Appearance: 6'0'' tall, dark green eyes, darker brown hair and facial hair like on the picture provided. He’s averagely built on first sight, but his hands, arms, legs, and torso have the hidden, unseen harpooner's strength resulting from climbing ropes, fixing ships, handling wood, rowing and thrusting the spear at whales and hacking them with knives, and that might go unnoticed until a fight breaks out. He has a stab wound on his abdomen, a small scar on his left eyebrow, and some minor cuts and burns on his shoulders and arms collected here and there as most men do, from reckless childhood play and tools and the like.

Clothing: Black boots, black pants tucked in them, a belt, a dark brown shirt under a dark brown vest, and a black town coat. He has a hat on sometimes, though prefers not to. His clothing is dirtied and battered since he’s been traveling all the way from the northeast.

Personal style: He’s most comfortable in his sailing uniform when at sea, but on land he likes to keep it simple and avoid anything fancy.

Personality: Thanks to his experience on the ship, he’s encountered many different peoples and faiths, from Japanese to Norwegian to Icelandic to African, and has learned to treat people according to their character, not ethnicity or faith, albeit after getting to know them. Life on ship does make man bond with unexpected company, but it also hardens the man, and makes him somewhat alien to those on shore as they often do not understand the actions of those who prefer the endless blue, just how they do not understand the land dwellers. He is ready to work and do most things, nevertheless, if the pay is good. He is cooperative and even more so when the ante is up or when the well being of the community is at stake. In such cases he will not back away from a fight. Although it may seem strange for a poor seaman and a slayer of the mighty whales, Albert is a man interested in the power of the word and more often than not spends his free time entertaining himself with a grammar book of some foreign language, a story, a poem, or phrases he picked up from strangers from far away places. He does keep this interest mostly private and would never sacrifice his work or chores in its favor, although he is always up for a discussion concerning all that when there is time. However, when on duty, the strict work ethic takes over and chases any sensibility aside.

Habits: When nervous he runs his fingers through his hair, that being the thing people usually notice first. He has a strong habit of cracking his knuckles, too, probably a result of witnessing and participating in countless bar and harbour fights that he can’t seem to avoid wherever he goes.



Regular life skills: Albert is a masterful shot with the spear, as his hard earned whalebone pin proves. He can do any physical work on ship, repair minor damages on them, he can fish, and he can go hunting on land as well as he does not fear facing beasts. Anything else he’d be willing to learn or get better at.

Combat skills: Harpoon and cutting knives are his tools of choice, besides fists, and he has a very basic knowledge of how to use firearms; in other words: he can point and shoot.

Items on your person: He bought a used pistol on his way to Arizona and he keeps it on his belt, just in case. He’s got a knife, a gift from a sailor from Liberia. He also has a pocket watch inherited from his father, sometimes a hat, and of course some money in the wallet, and a photograph of his wife, Livia, and their little daughter, Anna.

Additional stuff: As he is on the road west, alone, he carries a satchel and a bag of clothes, with some ale and food to chew on in-between towns. Oh, and he brought his harpoon to use as a decoration.



What brings you to Haylliesburg: Work and promised opportunity for anyone who is willing to work. He is looking for work in the west, hoping to find a place to settle down and earn enough money to bring his family to live with him as soon as possible.

Your life before coming to Haylliesburg: Albert was born in the countryside of Massachusetts in an improvised camp to Elizabeth and Walter White, both of English origin although with some German thrown in there. His father was a trader and his mother taught school children. He lived with them and was home schooled by his mother until his later teens when he moved to his uncle Thomas, his mother's brother, to work with him at the shipyard. Eventually, looking to earn a bit more than the scrapes he got at the yard, he signed up as the lowest of the low deck cleaner on a whaler called Emily and eventually, through years of hard work and obedience, rose up slowly and earned the place in the boat, wielding a harpoon next to the more experienced mates. The sea got into his blood and he found himself growing sad and sickly when on land for too long, and one voyage leading to another, he eventually started spending more time on the ship than at home. At the age of 27 he married the daughter of his uncle's neighbor, and soon they had a daughter, although he barely saw either of them since he left for Singapore weeks after the wedding. Strange things happened in a short span of time: he became suddenly ill, the disease not being one of the known sorts; he saw a crew member hang himself from the mast; and he barely survived a pirate attack thank to sheer luck, as they stopped shortly after the first guns were fired and disappeared. He took it all as a bad omen, even though he is not a superstitious man, and had to return home quickly. After his homecoming he decided he would turn to some other type of work, to make sure he stays alive and able to provide for his family. The talk of the west had been going on in the town, and he naturally picked it up and became interested, in the job possibility more so than the gold talk. After some preparation he left, hoping to settle down or at least find some stability in terms of work and housing before inviting his family to join him.

• And where do you think you're going...?
• The Last Pale Light in the West
• And some metal
• San Francisco C*CKSUCKA!
• This is the post I made before making this post, which I am posting to show you that I have read the rules!
• Favourite western? See the first thing on this list! It's from Shane (1953). I also suggest No Country for Old Men, both the book and the movie, although it is a neo-western or an anti-western, however you wish. Butcher's Crossing is another good novel. And the best for last, check out Blood Meridian for the most epic, violent western story!

Name:Lily Bell

Nicknames/alias:None

Age:44

Place of birth & ethnicity:Mobile, Alabama Caucasian

Gender:Female

Occupation:Gunslinger/Solider



She ain't no woman to be trifled with.

Appearance: Lily is a average sized woman standing at five feet and ten inches, weighing a hundred and forty five pounds total. Her hair is shoulder length and dark brown with visible waves in it, matching her dark brown eyes and well tanned skin from being outdoors. She has three blue stripes tattooed onto her left cheek, put on her by the Apache indians when she was captured the stripes showing she was traded for two blankets and a horse; a permanent reminder of her capture.

Clothing: Lily typically wears normal long riding pants made of rough cotton, along with a white button up and a leather black sleeveless vest. With a rough trench coat completing the ensemble and of course a black wide brimmed circular hat.

Personal style: See above

Personality: Lily is a quiet and withdrawn person, not sharing personal details about herself very freely. Her tolerance for Yankee soldiers is quite low and she is quick to jump into a gun fight, though her time in the Confederate Army made her far wiser and more skilled of the gun than the average person. That being said when not being judged or tested Lily is a happy person, content to drink and gamble like anyone else; not afraid of base labor or getting bloody. She is quite fond of children.

Habits: Drinker, smoker

Regular life skills: Coach driver, Observation mapper, hunter, explorer

Combat skills
Sharpshooter - From six shooters to long rifles Lily is a proficient combatant

Close combat - Given a sword or knife Lily is fairly skilled in defeating opponents in close combat

Leader - Having seen war first hand makes Lily hardened to combat enabling her to lead in the heat of battle

Items on your person:
Griswold revolver (x2) - Lily wears a Griswold revolver on each hip, the pistols common amongst Southerners

Hunting knife - A foot and a half single edged steel knife sheathed in the boot

Flask - Not for water

Canteen - For water

Additional stuff:

-Brown pants (x2)

-White button ups (x3)

-Extra socks (x4 pairs)

-Winchester 84 lever action rifle

-Union officer's sword

What brings you to Haylliesburg: Seeking a new life, escaping Union controlled reconstruction in the south

Your life before coming to Haylliesburg: Lily was actually a wife and mother before the Civil War, although her career was the same as ever a tracker and hunter mostly at the time; her husband was an accountant and usually cared for their son at home. However a year before the start of the Civil War Lily's son Abel was taken by the flu, so when the conflict erupted husband and wife both set out to join the fray; leading to Lily cutting most of her hair off and disguising herself as a young teen boy. Not that many men cared who fought beside them as long as they were reliable when the heat was on, so naturally she formed a strong bond with those whom she fought with in the Forth Confederate Infantry. Lily lost her husband in a battle in Virginia over a bridge, the outnumbered southerners holding the structure until it could be destroyed, however Lily's husband had volunteered to set the charges and sacrificed himself after being shot to detonate the black powder being used to destroy the wooden structure. So when the war was said and done Lily had no one left, and she ventured to the west; running protection for wagon trains be they merchant or families striking across the vast nation. It was on one of these escorts that the Apache attacked the train overwhelming the defenders and seizing Lily as a prize, she spent only seven months amongst the Apache escaping one night by killing the sentinel left to guard her and the other captives.

Sample:

Lily sat high upon the back of her spotted heavy stallion, the sun's rays plummeting down onto the woman and her charges. A line of four wagons two with supplies and two with families rolling across the open grassy plains; several other guards rode beside the wagons as well each man carrying a firearm if not several along with those riding shotgun on the wagons they numbered twelve fighters. Suddenly an arrow came whirling across the open air, fired from an especially thick batch of grass; followed by loud yelping and screeching sounds Apache bursting from all around the train. Men fell quickly but began to return fire. Lily whipped her horse around and charged down the line, firing her revolver as she passed the warriors wounding some but missing those out of range. Her horse took an arrow to the neck leading Lily to fight on foot, rushing back to the wagons for some form of cover, the remaining survivors numbering only 6. The Apache quickly overtook the travelers, Lily striking down two more with the long officers blade she carried on her left hip; though she found herself knocked unconscious by a blow from behind. All and all killing over twenty four Apache warriors with only twelve fighters, Lily was stripped of her weapons and tattooed to mark her value in the tribe sold from her original captor to the next rather quickly. Lily spent the next seven months as a slave for the tribe, from menial labors to the heat of the Apache warriors before a battle or hunt, planning her escape the entire time; seeing her chance when the majority of the skilled warriors left the tribe. Headed to attempt an attack on the railroad, this left only a young boy guarding the captives teepee; Lily found a long strip of frayed rope upon the floor and crept behind the teen. Strangling him quickly and quietly before escaping, reclaiming her old weapons on the way out in a risky stealth mission into the chieftains tent which left two of his wives dead by the end.

Sample from previous rp
roleplayerguild.com/posts/3906489/raw

Favorite Western
youtube.com/watch?v=WGBw3zwzqwI