="Sometimes, you have to fight for what you believe in. Sometimes you have to die for it. I ain't afraid of either."=
youtube.com/watch?v=4hoB8lHNMZo
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian/Native American Mix
Nationality: American
Age: 38
Occupation: Before he was an outlaw, he was a soldier in the Union Army during the Civil War
Faction: Leader of the McCullen-Rainwater Gang, alongside his lover Claudia
Family:
Father: Abraham Rainwater - Drunk - Whereabouts Unknown
Mother: Lucretia "Songbird" Meadows - Prostitute - Died in 1859 to Tuberculosis
Horse: Boudica - raised her from a foal
Equipment:
Winchester Model 1873 "Yellow Boy" Repeater Rifle
Two Colt Model 1851 Navy Revolvers
Union Issued Bowie Knife
-A Wool Bedroll
-A pack of Cigarettes
-A Pewter Flask of Bourbon
-A Gold Pocket Watch
-Plenty of Provisions (Dried, salted meats, canned food, etc.)
-A worn out leather-bound journal
Skills:
-Shooting of course
-Wilderness Survival
-Horseback Riding
-Hand to Hand Combat
-Cheating at Poker
-Reading and Writing
Personality Traits:
-Charismatic
-Calculating
-Cold Blooded
-Altruistic
-A Leader among Men
-Values loyalty greatly among many things
Likes: Whiskey, cigarettes, sunrises and sunsets, beautiful women to warm his bed at night, giving to the poor
Dislikes: The government, all lawmen, Confederates, rich folk, harm towards the innocent
Backstory:
"I was born in 1848 in Lexington, Massachusetts, the very place where our Founding Fathers fought and died for our freedom. My father...shit, I barely even remember him. Accordin' to my mama, he was just some Irish drunk who blew into town. Back then, she was workin' in a house of ill repute. Imagine that, an Indian as a whore. Well, daddy fucked her one night, and here I am. Then he just up and leaves again. Nothin' to remember him by but an empty bottle of whiskey. I guess you could say I never knew him at all really. Well, a few years later, mama got sick with the TB. She died on a Sunday mornin' in May of 1859. I was only eleven years old.
With no one to take care of me, naturally, the state threw me in a boy's home. The people who run it were some mean sons a bitches I tell you. They'd whip your ass just for lookin' at 'em the wrong way. Sometimes, I think they got off on it, hurtin' little children like that. Anywho, I had enough of it and left one day. I joined the Army when I was only thirteen. By that time, the war had begun between the North and the South. I was part of the cavalry in Gettysburg. I'll admit, I seen terrible things there, things to this day that haunt my memories. I remember the cries of wounded men laying in fields of blood and guts, the smell of rifle smoke and horse's breath. We pushed back those goddamn rebels though, and we gave everything we had in the name of freein' them colored folk...at least...that's what I thought this war was for.
Every man, regardless of color, deserved to live free. To do as he damn well pleased, but of course, the goddamn government didn't see it that way. Sure enough, once the South was reunited, it was back to the old ways, taxin' the poor, makin' the rich even richer. All the while, they kept us down with rules and regulations. I felt betrayed by my country, by the people I swore to fight for in the name of liberty. What I desired more than most was for man to live free, to be unshackled from the tyranny of government and modern livin'. I knew that for this dream of mine to come true, I needed money...alot of money. So I started robbin' people, mostly folks travelin' the roads at night. I would jump out from the bushes and holler 'put your damn hands up!'
{Gustav "Old Gus" Ellory, age 59}
I pulled my gun one time on this old feller though, down near Mississippi. Didn't have a penny to his damn name. His name was Gus by the way. Anywho, Gus soon pulled his gun on me. I thought 'you stupid son of a bitch'. We both pulled the trigger, and wouldn't you know it, not a damn one of us hit anything. Bullets just went right past each other. We laughed about it afterwards, and I decided to travel with Gus. We became real good friends despite how old he was. I learned a lot from him, more than what the damn Army taught me.
{Claudia McCullen, age 36}
About a few years later, when we were movin' through Texas, I met the love of my life in a saloon in El Paso. Her name was Claudia, Claudia McCullen. She was originally up from the North like me, a New York girl, but her family moved down here to start some cattle ranch.
She said the ranch got bad and her father borrowed some money from some nasty men. Well, when her daddy couldn't pay the debt back, they took her and made her work in the saloon. Anyway, some bastard ass Mexican got rough with her one night while we were there, so I shot him right between the eyes. Claudia was scared to death we were all gonna be hanged for it, so I told her to come with me. She did, surprisingly, and she's been with us ever since. I swear I'll love her til the day I die.
Before too long, Gus, Claudia, and I began to draw more people in, people like us really, the downtrodden, those stepped upon by a society that didn't want them. We started pullin' more robberies, only this time we hit much bigger targets, banks, trains, stagecoaches. We took from those who had too much, and gave to those who had practically nothin'. All the while, the law was hot on our tails. They chased us plum across the West, but even so, we kept on pushin' back, because unlike the rest they've stamped out, we won't go so easily.
We are free men and women, fightin' against a world that hates our kind, and we won't rest until our dream of a free world is fulfilled...or we just die tryin' to make it that way. Until then, to all lawmen, sheriffs, Pinkertons...come and get us. We're waitin' for you."