Name: John Stone
Gender: Male
Age: 30

Appearance:

A physically imposing man standing at six feet one inches tall and weighing a little over two hundred pounds John is well suited to his work physically. Many scars litter his body due to his years of brawling and gunfighting, the most noticeable being one from a knife starting above his left eyebrow and running down below his eye. He has been shot twice, stabbed once, cut on several occasions and beaten even more often than that. It hasn't yet been quite enough to kill him, although he does now walk with a slightly noticeable limp.

He keeps his dark brown hair short on the sides and slightly longer on top, as well as keeping a mustache and goatee. He has brown eyes that might often betray pain he’d claim he isn’t feeling, or anger he’ll claim he is. His face has a few more wrinkles than someone of his age should and a coarseness to it that betrays his rough way of life.

Occupations:

Bounty Hunter
Boxer/Brawler
Outlaw

Weapons:

Rossi Overland 12 Gauge Shotgun
Colt .45 Single Action Army Revolver
Bowie Knife
Horse: Black Coated Friesian named Morrigan.
Residence: A cabin in the woods outside of Strawberry. Mostly used to store spare weapons and supplies.

Personality:

John is difficult to like and he seems to try to keep it that way. A callous and cynical brute of a man he is well suited to the life of a bounty hunter and outlaw, though even among people in those lines of work he is renowned for his noteworthy brutality. Long since used to repressing most uncomfortable emotions it is rare to see him express anything other than anger or annoyance. He’s not a sadist, rarely taking pleasure in any sort of violence but that makes little difference to those unfortunate enough to become his target. He’ll calmly chop a foot off of a bounty who tries to run whether he gets enjoyment out of it or not.

If there’s anything good that could be said about John at all it’s probably that he’s not altogether ungrateful or disloyal. If someone deliberately goes out of their way to do him a solid he’s not simply going to brush it off. The way he sees it genuine selflessness is so rare it’s not right to simply disregard it on the occasions where it truly occurs. He doesn't really have friends but anyone who gets close enough to him and isn't reflexively pushed away by what he is as a person is something of a treasure. Something he's occasionally even sentient enough to appreciate.

All in all, it's difficult to know who John might have been without the years of emotional repression and numbness and harder still to know if there’s any semblance of that man still in him at all that might one day tunnel his way out.

History:

John spent his early years in Chicago. His father was a relatively well known though not quite professional heavyweight boxer there who was the sole breadwinner of their small family. Whether it was the stress of taking care of them or simple bitterness about being a tied-down family man when he didn’t really seem to want to be the man was a vicious and cruel bastard. He would frequently lose his temper at the smallest of things and physically and verbally abuse both his wife and young son. John’s mother for her part was a timid but compassionate and intelligent woman who always did her best to protect her child from her husbands anger, taking many a lashing in his place.

One day when John was about five or six years old his father once again lost his temper at some insignificant thing and started lashing out at his son, beating him with a broom handle. His mother as always got between them and started trying to push her much larger husband back. The boxer cocked back his fist and punched her hard in the face like he’d done a dozen or more times before. His wife dropped with a sickening crack as her head hit the floor. Unlike all the other times she didn’t cry out, didn’t try to get back up to further defend young John, didn’t move. Both John and his father watched her, all three of them motionless for what felt like an eternity. At that point John kind of blacked out.

By the time he formed his next memory they had fled Chicago and headed to less lawful lands where his father figured he’d be safe from justice. John for his part had buried the memory of his mothers murder so deep he barely even remembered it or her. His mind kind of blocked it all out to protect him, though he’d frequently have nightmares of his father beating and killing faceless women in front of him. Life went on though. They rented a cabin in the plains outside of a town called Valentine and his father found work fighting for money and the entertainment of all those who earned an honest living in and around the livestock town. Sheep herders and hands would come from all around to see the cityboy boxer break the jaw of some dumb yokel that thought he could take him.

John actually had a better time of it out in the country than he did back in the city. He made quite a few friends who taught him how to shoot and how to hunt. In return he used his large stature and sometimes simply his father's fearsome reputation to protect them from older bullies. He occasionally had to fight either for or with them but he found that compared to his father's beatings a teenagers punches felt pretty damn soft. He also found out as well as quite a few others that he could hit pretty damn hard himself too. One of the greatest things about the country though was that it was big enough that there were enough things to do outside both during the day and in the town at night that he barely ever had to see his dad. Though eventually the day came where that stopped being a problem at all.

His dad would occasionally bring women back to their shack using his winnings from boxing and tell John to get the hell out for a while. Now fourteen years old John knew well enough what was up and usually just left without a word and either sat outside for an hour or so or went off somewhere else so he didn’t have to risk hearing anything. This time though he was already tired from a long day of tracking deer and rabbits and hauling them back to town and he simply wanted to wait around long enough for her to leave so he could go back in and get some sleep. Unfortunately that was soon interrupted by the woman screaming and his father loudly shouting back.

John not really knowing why grabbed his shotgun off the porch and barged his way back inside. There he found his father standing over the woman, blood on his already bruised fists and the lady herself with a bleeding lip. His brain decided then to unlock certain old traumatic memories and both good, loving ones and terrifying, rage inducing ones rushed back to him. “You killed ma.” Was all he said before he raised up the shotgun and blasted his father in the chest. The woman screamed as his father stumbled backwards, knocking over a chair and falling to the wooden floor sputtering blood. The one slug was not quite enough to kill him outright but enough that he wouldn’t last long. John turned to the prostitute and told her to get out and that if she told anyone what she'd seen he’d tell them that he’d last seen them both together when his father told him to leave. After she quickly fled he watched as his father breathed his last breaths feeling little but relief at his passing and grief over losing his mom.

It took quite some time but John eventually managed to move his dad's corpse from the cabin in the middle of the plains to some woods not too far off. He hoped wolves or whatever else would take care of him soon enough, or at least leave him unidentifiable. After cleaning up the blood back at the cabin he packed up as much dry food as he could, grabbed his own shotgun and his dads old revolver and what money he could and headed west on his father's horse towards Strawberry. He hunted pelts and lived in the woods outside of town for a while until he made enough money selling both them and animal meat to afford a small room in town. He'd also occasionally come across camps whilst he was tracking an animal and hold up whoever had made their bed there. It was usually pretty easy. Once or twice someone stupid tried to draw on him and he'd blow off one of their knees but that was about as serious as it ever got. It was a hell of a lot easier to shoot a man standing still ten feet away than it was to snipe a deer or rabbit at fifty.

A couple of years of hunting and bar fighting later he stumbled into taking his first bounty at seventeen, accompanying another more seasoned hunter he'd met in the saloon on one of his contracts. It went pretty well, John killed two men without hesitating or taking any bullets himself and they managed to hogtie the man they were after and bring him in alive for the full price on his head. The seasoned bounty hunter tried to only pay John twenty five percent of the bounty since he was apparently only his apprentice but John called bullshit on that and insisted on half or he’d beat the living hell out of him right there in town and take what was owed. The older man was definitely better with a gun but he sure couldn’t take the larger, younger and angrier man in a fair fist fight. He paid up grudgingly and John made his first professional enemy, one of many he later killed on the job.

To this day John has built himself quite the reputation ranging from Tumbleweed to Valentine as an effective and ruthless bounty hunter and occasional outlaw. He’s had to on rare occasions kill a sheriff and some deputies for refusing to pay him what they owed but he'd taken it in stride, even with the occasional bounties placed on him. Just part of the brutal business.

Additional info:

Nope. I am a fan of character theme songs though. Have one in case you too like them reader.

Do you have a personal story arc prepared:

Kind of? I know where I want to take John character wise but I'm not quite sure how I'm going to get him there yet.

Sex: female
Age: 29
Appearance: Dark haired, Attractive, Fit
Ethnicity: Caucasian (black Irish)
Class: Ex whore, Novice Gunsmith, Gambler
Occupation: Outlaw/Seasonal Whore
Demeanor: Wild Card, Bon vivant, cynic
Disposition: Strong willed, hard
Motivation: "Money is my Religion.."
Residence: No current permanent residence or properties. Usually rents a room (and sometimes works from one).

BackStory: to be given within game.


Gear:
2 Black&Brass 1873 Calvary, .45, each with its own holster and belt, dark leather
1 Small niclel plated derringer .22
3 Stiletto knives
Flat brim Hat, shirt and duster coat, dark bandanna, and worn dark leather chaps and boots.


Tucker (Grey/black Andalusian, stolen)
Saddle:
Bed roll
Skillet
Coffee Cup

Usually keeps a rented room.

Name: Nora K. Quintin

Nickname(s): Scorpion, Sparkle, 'Damn Canadian', Lady MacDeath

Age: 28 (Born Nov 4th 1869)

Sex: Female

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 145lbs

Build: Slender, athletic

Nationality: American

Wanted for (By the State of Lemonyne):

-Murder of numerous Citizens, Lawmen and "Good Samaritans"

-Crimes of Arson, Burglary and Theft of Levictus Cornwall owned property

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/Chaotic Good

Personality: Nora can be cold and brooding to anyone who’d dare obstruct her objectives, and will initially come off as weary and distrusting to those inquiring about her business. However, a soft interior is revealed behind genuine connections, or just really good whiskey. Nora doesn’t enjoy killing anyone who doesn’t deserve to die, but she won’t hesitate without a second thought when it comes to defending herself or those she grows attached to.

Bio: Nora Katherine Quintin was born in Bismarck, North Dakota on November 4th, 1871 to parents Marcus Quintin and Eleanor Johnston. Unfortunately, Eleanor fell violently ill and passed away when Nora was a year old- leaving her in Marcus’s care. With Marcus employed as a higher-up of the South Improvement Company, Marcus was offered by SIC to relocate him and his daughter to Saint Denis (expenses paid for generously as per Marcus’s 35-year long service to the company) and help establish a foothold of transport ‘on the gateway to America’. With the family moved to a new state and her father in supervising the branch office, Marcus was able to get Nora into public school for an education. As Nora grew into her teenage years, her father’s company began battling negotiations with Leviticus Cornwall’s business. Cornwall, desperate to maintain power over his competition and wanting to send a message to SIC’s newest office, contracted the O’Driscoll’s to periodically harass the location. As for the O’Driscoll’s themselves, their new interests became entangled with Nora and her father- goading either of them into retaliatory violence as a scapegoat to have Marcus arrested and the location shut down.

Desperate for a solution, Nora turned toward frequenting the local saloons for assistance, whereupon she met a disgruntled cowboy by the name of Felix Marshall. Paying him what she could under terms of protection from the O’Driscolls, this eventually circulated back to Marcus when he began to get concerned with Nora’s frequent disappearances- tailing her back to the saloon one night and confronting her angrily. Unfortunately, the conversation was shortly interrupted by a posse of O’Driscolls entering the saloon; cornering the trio and demanding Marcus hand over the money as well as Nora- threatening his death if he didn’t cooperate. Stepping in to protect the father-daughter duo, Felix antagonized the gang to which they opened fire- shooting Marcus in the head as chaos broke out in the bar. Under fire and crouched behind the bar with Felix, Nora was offered a spare revolver by the cowboy to defend herself as they proceeded to escape through the back door. Felix, not wanting to leave the girl behind and with the O’Driscolls on their tail, insisted Nora escape with him on horseback to which she obliged. When they’d escaped Saint Denis, Nora broke down and mourned the loss of the last of the blood family she had.

Essentially an orphan now, Felix, in a gesture of commitment to ensuring the young woman not be turned to the wild, offered to take her under his care until she was capable of fending for herself. This lead to a ten-year bond between Felix and Nora; the latter of which he took to likening as a daughter of his own. Being blunt with his morality as an individual, Felix not only taught Nora into becoming a self-sustaining Gunslinger, but the morality associated with the concept of taking what’s needed to survive, and knowing when to cooperate and who to trust. Alongside teaching her these values, he also made it a point for Nora to come into her own sense of identity; not relying on Felix for the majority of her development through her growing years. By the time she turned 28, Nora and Felix were known and wanted individuals by the State of Lemoyne; having targeted and killed many of O’Driscoll’s men alongside Saint Denis lawmen and patrolling citizens in an effort to cover their tracks and stay in hiding. With the branch office in Saint Denis long ransacked and destroyed, there was nothing she could do to avenge her father as the city law was under Cornwall’s power alongside O’Driscoll involvement.

Months later, a roving band of O’Driscoll men discovered their current hideout; forcing the pair to flee to New Hanover but not before fatally shooting Felix in the back during their escape. Barely reaching the outskirt of town, Felix collapsed off of his horse- leaving a distraught Nora to rush him on foot to a doctor. Despite her best efforts, Felix died shortly after arriving to the infirmary; his last words to Nora to remember what’s worth fighting for. Broken by the losses of the only ties to family she had, Nora’s enemies were the only two responsible for taking her life away: Cornwall, and the O’Driscolls. As vengeful for revenge as she was, Nora knew charging headfirst into that mess would be suicidal with Lemoyne out for her arrest and trial. She wouldn’t become another statistic- no. She wanted Cornwall and the O’Driscoll’s hold of Saint Denis wiped out. This wasn’t possible alone, and she needed help. She needed to join a gang. Hell, with the amount of destruction caused by those entities, perhaps there were others like her who have suffered similar tragedies.

For now, Nora had focused on her own survival; equipping herself and preparing for a solo attack on a Cornwall train carrying vital documentation surrounding a new building’s construction. Sabotage that, she’d wager, and she’d significantly impact Cornwall’s expansion into Saint Denis.

Equipment (Starting):

Schofield Revolvers ‘Widowmakers’: These customized six-shot revolvers feature a black frame, dark olive handle grips and dark brown patterned engravings alongside a double-action trigger; allowing for a faster firing rate despite the slow reloading time.



Lichter Repeater ‘Black Duster’: A customized lever-action repeater, this features a dark oakwood buttstock, a gold body frame and long black barrel. It comes with no trigger or receiver modifications.



Lasso: A black-rope lasso.

'Butch': A black Arabian Horse bought for Nora by Felix himself as his gift to her, the heavily muscular and fiercely loyal creature has been Nora's prized possession, companion, and method of transportation.



Hunting Knife: A standard issue hunting knife.

Outfit: Nora can usually be spotted wearing a dark brown duster, dark blue denim jeans and cowboy boots with a black gambler’s hat and matching bandana.

Skills:

-Adept Gunfighter: Nora prefers to keep her friends close, and her enemies within rifle range. She excels at being able to engage, reposition and control the ebb and flow of most battlefield engagements with an aggressive tactical fervor.

-Campfire Medicine: Nora is also good at mixing herbs and spices; making temporary herbal medicines and stimulants that can help others heal faster, have more energy, fortify their will to fight, or simply unwind after a long day.

-Medically Inclined: Wild Western medicine in a controlled setting is a hard rarity to come by. With the majority of engagements being far from controlled, Nora has learned to improvise with various superficial medical treatments- from a small cut to a fracture. Of course, you can’t save everyone in time no matter how hard you do.