[CHAR] Red Dead Reckoning

[Red7VII]

Name
Draven Creed

Age
32

Gender
Male

Appearance
Long black hair, beard, grungy look to him. Usually wearing a black straight brimmed hat and duster.

Occupations (Former or otherwise)
Outlaw - A talented thief, pickpocket, manipulator and fraud. His guns costed a pretty penny, but his forked tongue is invaluable.
Hitman - He's been known to be a gun for hire, so long as the person he was taking down deserved the bullet.

Assets
Twin pistols, black, with wolves engraved into the pearl hilts.
Belt with ammo capacity and two holsters around the waist
Thor "God of Thunder" - A massive dark Shire horse.

Personality
Among those he considers friends, Draven can be very laid back and jovial. When in the presence of mixed company, however, his attitude takes on an intense seriousness. Though he has a conscience, it is often buried behind the mask he feels he needs to wear to protect his people and himself from a world looking to take them down.

He has a personality that is prone to addiction. He smokes tobacco (among other things), drinks, sleeps around, gambles, and loves a good bareknuckle fight.

History
Draven was the son of a whore and an outlaw named Daniel "Butcher" Creed. The latter was the right hand man to Brock McLane, infamous leader of The Black Coats, a loose knit organization of ex-military men who took to a life of stealing and hell raising. Brock was a very charismatic leader, but not the brightest of planners. In the end, he took several bullets to the chest and fell dead along with the rest of his men in a botched train robbery. The Butcher was the last to go down, taking nearly every Pinkerton at the scene down with him before be bled out.

Draven was raised by the widows and old timers that were left behind at the camp. Ol' Joe Harris, one of the oldest with the group and considered a sage of sorts, took Draven under his wing and taught him how to shoot, ride, hunt and strategize. The old man soon fell, himself, to natural causes. The Black Coats were no more and Draven decided it was time to break off on his own.

Since then, he wandered the lands looking for his place in the world. His mischievous and debaucherous upbringing never ceased to be a part of his life. If you ever came across him, you could bet he was there to piss someone off. All you could do was hope it wasn't you.

Theme Song:
Red Right Hand By Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

---

Name
Seven

Age
10

Gender
Female

Appearance
Long, brunette hair, freckles just atop her cheeks, pale skin. Usually seen in denim and boots and hardly ever without dirt on her person.

Occupations (Former or otherwise)
Novice Outlaw - She is an apprentice of Draven and new to the darker side of the world.

Assets
2 small six shooters
Belt with holster
Sunny - A blonde Tennessee Walker

Personality
Usually quiet at first, Seven is very reserved but methodical. She is constantly analyzing situations, choosing her words well, planning her next actions and weighing the consequences. Her street knowledge is incredibly impressive considering how shallow her life experience is.

History
Seven's beginnings are shrouded in mystery. What is known is that where Draven is, Seven is not far behind. While she is more of a source of brain power rather than strength, Draven considers her an invaluable asset and has a father's love for her. Draven has taught her how to shoot, ride, and kill without regret. Though she seems small and insignificant, one who regards her ought to be reminded about the truth of little balls of power: Dynamite comes in small packages.

Theme Song
Gunpowder & Lead by Miranda Lambert

[Sad Ogo]

John Stone

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.

Theme Song:

Through the Valley by Shawn James and The Shapeshifters.

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.

[sly13]

James Kelly

"You just have to know how to stack the deck in your favor"

Name: James Kelly

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 190lbs

Build: Athletic

Nationality: Irish-American

Appearance
A decent sized man, James stands at around 5’10 with a muscular build from his time spent working for the RailRoad companies. He keeps his hair short in a clean fashion while letting a small close kept beard and mustache on his face. He is commonly seen in a long white sleeve shirt underneath a brown vest that is left buttoned up. He always keeps his pistols on his side

Occupations
Railroad worker (Former)
Outlaw
Gambler

Assets
Twin Colt .45 revolvers (Polished wood Handle with a gold lining and a Black metal barrel.

Pistols

Winchester Repeater Rifle

Rifle

Light Brown Mustang with a white patch on its head (Iris)

Personality
James can be seen as a cocky and sarcastic asshole to just about everyone he meets. This has gotten James into his fair share of bar fights and altercations when his remarks have been to the wrong person or group of people. Because of this James has learned how to talk himself out of most of these problems but is quite good in a fight when that fails.

To most on the outside, James never takes anything too seriously constantly joking around and finding the joy in something even when the job goes south. He is almost always seen gambling or in the process of smooth talking the local ladies and dazzling them with his many tales of bravery and daring escapes, some are even true.

History
James was born to a poor Irish Family somewhere in the north where exactly he isn't sure or at least won't tell anyone if he does. Even if he did which he is persistent he doesn't know he would have no memories of it anyway. Almost as soon as he was born his family packed their bags and moved so that his father could work on the RailRoad like so many Irish before them. Growing up on the RailRoad allowed James to see what life was really like from a young age. While his mother tried to shield him from it the best she could there was only so much you can hide from a curious young boy in such a place.

As James grew older he seemed to fit right in with the likes of people in the camp. Giving into stereotypes James was a heavy drinking, foul-mouthed, sweet talker, and a daring young man who seemed to have no fear. Most of this came from the fact that James was on the demolition crew who were responsible for the use of Blackpowder and Nitroglycerin to blow holes in the side of mountains. Of course, the only way to coup with the stress of such a job was to drink and smoke while working with the volatile substance. Of course, while whiskey and tobacco calm the nerves it does also cloud the mind leading to mistakes. By the time he was 18 James had seen his fair share of deaths and accidents around the stuff including the death of 3 walking bosses for his crew. By 19 James was made the walking boss for the Irish demolition crew, a job he took very seriously.

Besides his work as a demolition expert, James made quite a bit of money playing poker at the make sift tavern. Most would find it very dangerous to gable such hard-earned wages at a game like poker, but anyone who left cards up to chance were just suckers waiting to get their money taken from them according to James. Oddly enough James has never seen playing cards with his own men or any of the other Irish workers but rather could always be seen in the foreman's tent.

One day, however, this all changed. It was just like any other night before it. Most of the workers were drowning in either whiskey or other activities that were available at the camp. James was once again in the Formens lounge up to his usual tricks at the card table all while keeping his eye on the leader of the whole camp and all the bosses like himself. The next morning the camp woke up to a dead foreman lead and a Missing James. As the rumor goes and as the wanted Signs say James killed the poor man in his sleep that night then fled.

Since then James has mostly tried to stay out of the way of the law and kept his head down with a few intersections here and there. For the most part, James sticks to simply swindling people out of there money at the card table or some other form of gambling or doing an odd job of honest work whenever it presents itself for decent pay.

Additional Info
Has a gold coin that he is always rolling across his fingers.

Theme
youtube.com/watch?v=HrzZEdPx5A4

Do you have a personal story arc prepared (Yes)

[Gunther]

Leo Velez

Name Leo “Cockroach” Velez (Cucaracha)

Age 22 (1875)

Gender Male

Appearance Leo stands 5’ 9” tall, weighing 170 Lbs. He has long black hair and often wears a small black mustache. Leo has a six-inch scar on his chest from a knife fight as well as a few smaller scars lower on his torso. The half breed Comanche and Mexican wears black stone washed denim trousers, a black jacket, black vest and white shirt. Occasionally he wears a decorative red ascot. He wears bent rail boots, tan in color and a black sombrero or a short-brimmed gambler. Whichever hat he is wearing, you will always see two eagle’s feathers tucked into the hat band to remind him of where he came from.

Leo Velez

Occupations
Since leaving the reservation, Leo has worked as a ranch hand, bounty hunter and outlaw. He will do whatever he needs to survive. He can play the guitar, singing any number of culturally Mexican songs.

Assets
Leo rides a painted black and white Mustang named “Carlotta”, complete with a saddle, saddlebags, sleeping roll, rope, canteen, guitar, a small amount of food in his bags, a gun belt with one holster, gun oil, cleaning rag, buck knife, eight throwing knives, silver pocket watch and chain, 150 rounds of .45 ammo, $48.26 in cash and an old Schofield Caliber .45 revolver (1869). This pistol is older than him, but it works and is well maintained. For hunting, he prefers his hand made (Native) “Sky-dog” horse bow with 25 arrows.

Personality
Leo is apathetic to the problems of the white man/gringo. He would sooner shoot a man than give him the time of day. If someone helps him, he is indebted to that man for life and would do what he can to help him. Leo is out for himself but does have a softer side if one is able to dig deep enough. Once befriended, he is your champion for life. Leo thrills on excitement. The more dangerous a situation, the more motivated he is to jump in and have at it. He is not educated, but knows how to track, hunt and fish. Leo couldn’t tell you what two plus two equaled nor can he read.

History
Leo has a Mexican father and a Comanche mother. He lived on the reservation for most of his life and has learned to speak Comanche “The language of the people” (fluent), Spanish (fluent) and English (90%). He grew up with the culture of both heritages and learned English because he had to. He learned to play the guitar as a young boy, singing several old Mexican songs. Leo’s mother considered her baby a little lion and named him Leo for the constellation named for a Lion. As a boy, he was always bold, eager and willing to get into a fight or trouble. Carlotta worried herself to death about her little Leo.

When Leo, who is also known as “Cockroach” or “Cucaracha” was 15, he left the reservation. He wandered looking for work taking a job as a ranch hand where he learned to shoot and eventually acquired the old Schofield pistol and holster. He practiced with his pistol trying to be the quickest draw and most accurate in the south. He likened himself to the moniker of “Pistolero”, but that nickname never stuck. Leo is a fanatic about keeping his weapon clean. It is important and he wants to take care of it.

At the age of 17, Leo, the Cockroach killed a fellow ranch hand he had worked with simply because the gringo made an offensive remark. He called him a “damn spic”. Leo didn’t like the comment so he drew his sidearm and unleashed a salvo of three rounds into the man’s chest, dropping him to the dusty soil. Leo stole the rancher’s horse and saddle and took off, never looking back.

He left that world behind and never looked back. Leo arrived in Armadillo where he was able to sell himself off as a bounty hunter. He worked for the local law in Armadillo, Blackwater and Strawberry. He eventually got himself a real horse, the painted Palomino he named for his mother, “Carlotta”.

At age 20, Leo took on a bounty of three of the Del Lobo gang members; Juan Cardillo, Pablo Jimenez and Jose “Paco” Lopez. He learned they were hiding out in Gaptooth Ridge west of Armadillo. As it turns out, Leo ran into them on the road near Benedict Pass. After confronting the desperados, Leo shot and killed Cardillo and Jimenez. Paco Lopez took a bit longer. It turned into a fist fight and then a knife fight. Leo sustained a non-fatal injury to his chest which left a scar, but Paco was dead. He tied the corpses onto the three men’s horses, tethered them together and hauled them back to the sheriff of Armadillo. He received a nice hefty purse for his troubles.

Over the next few years, Leo robbed stagecoaches, played poker, traveled through West Elizabeth, New Hanover, Amberino and Lemoyne. He hated the Murfreebrood most of all, taking pleasure killing those inbred fools whenever possible. Occasionally, Leo robbed random riders on a road, but preferred to kill them outright so they could not identify him to deputies later. In all of his escapades, Leo was able to evade the law, capture or even let anyone identify who he was. As he has collected bounties on known criminals, there are of yet, no bounties on him.

Ultimately, the half breed Mexican-Indian made his way back to Armadillo, where the sheriff was more than happy to give him more work if he was interested. He met a man named, John Stone, hailing from Chicago. Leo had never heard of Chicago, but accepted the man for who he was, a fellow bounty hunter. The pair had worked a bounty once, but that was it. They were familiar with one another. Leo had no intentions of killing this man…yet. Maybe he would make a bien amigo.

Additional Info
Nada

Personal story arc prepared
Members of the Del Lobo gang are searching for Leo Velez. They want to hang him up for killing their brothers. Paco Lopez was actually a lieutenant of the Del Lobo gang. Leo has no fear for the outlaw gang and will more than happily send them to their graves when they appear. He does on occasion look over his shoulder to see if they might be getting close. Leo knows that if he finds and kills Alejandro Diego Rivera Lopez, a Los Lobos lieutenant, also known by the nickname, “El Pachuco” or “The Gangster” the gang will stop chasing him. By killing El Pachuco, Leo will finally be rid of Del Lobos.

Theme Song
“In Hell, I’ll be in Good Company” by The Dead South

[DisturbedSpec]

Nora K. Quintin

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.

[c3p-0h]

Temp

Name: Louise Tempest. Call her Temp if you wanna keep your face pretty.

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Appearance: Look for the short young woman in a tie, with a messy flop of hair, freckles covering her cheeks, and a mouth full of curses. She'll be easy to find – brawls tend to be hard to miss.

Occupations (Former, Current or otherwise):
Clock Maker
Enforcer
Bartender

Assets:
A Reputation
A Sharp Suit
Some Busted knuckles

Personality: Temp lives up to her name – loud mouthed, short fused, and always ready to crack a bat over some kneecaps. It's easy enough to write her off as a violent lost cause, a grown-up delinquent that you'd do well to stay far away from. Most do. Temp knows she has issues – anger issues. Her first instinct when faced with anything even mildly inconvenient is to resort to violence. Whether she's throwing fists or words, she tends to set people off. That's fine, she tells herself. Who needs them anyway? Not Temp, no sir.

If asked, she'd say her strengths are that she's quick on her feet, tough as nails, and unwilling to put up with anyone's shit. And she is all these things. But she's also brave, pragmatic, clever, and curious, with enough determination to see through any challenge. And while she loves a good fight, her anger is more often than not fueled by a strong set of morals that her grandpa wove into her like a seam in a coat.

History: Temp grew up in little town called Dodge with her grandpa, a tailor named Gabriel Fournier. He was a harsh old bastard, chewing out her ear whenever she got into fights or ran around in the suits he made. But he took care of her -- cleaned up her cuts and started leaving out suits that just happened to be her size. He tried to teach her tailoring but she just kept on stabbing herself with a needle and throwing tantrums. He'd just about given up on teaching her a trade (because Lord knew she needed a trade to support herself -- no way in Hell anyone was ever gonna marry her) when the two walked by a clockwork shop on their way to a concert being held in the town square.

Louise -- Gabe didn't care what the brat wanted to call herself, her mother had named her Louise -- paused mid-step to look in through the shop window. The sunset made the ticking clockwork gleam, and she took a step towards it, eyes watching the steady tick, tick, tick, of the gears. Her grandfather had a fine metal pocketwatch sure, and she'd always had a passing interest in it; the delicate gears and tapes, the steady clicks of time. But seeing it all up close like this… how did it work?

Gabe watched as his granddaughter stared in open curiosity. An idea formed in his head.

Within a month (it'd taken much negotiating and pleading, what with her reputation for trouble) she was made an apprentice clockworker under Finnegan Choq, owner and operator of the shop Choq's Clocks. The ticking brass of gears and clockwork became home.

Her grandpa will always be first in Temp's heart. But she managed to make room for old man Finnegan once she started learning from him. Gabe passed when she was 18, a month before she graduated from her apprenticeship, and that… well, if that wasn't a kick in the shins. Temp grit her teeth and told herself to fight through it. She'd make her old man proud. She’d thought she’d made Finn proud. But the day he told her she’d completed her training to become a fully fledged clockworker, he sat her down with a sigh.

He said that it was best if she went her own way. She was talented – talented enough to start her own shop if she wanted. But she brought too much trouble to keep her around the shop. Finn had kept her as an apprentice out of respect for Gabe, but there'd been too many fights, too many mornings of fixing broken machines and cleaning metal shards from her knuckles.

Maybe she hadn't made anyone proud after all. Maybe she wasn't capable of it.

Temp hasn't dared open up a clock face since Finn dumped her. Instead, she ran into the arms of her other love: violence. The alleys and bars of town were chaos in those weeks following her graduation. It was a common occurrence for the sheriff's deputies to throw her in a cell to cool off for a night or two. It wasn't long though, before someone decided to put her fists to good use.

Sasha, the owner of the seediest bar in town, had been trying to get Temp on her payroll for the better part of three years. But Gabe would never hear anything of it, always grumbling about how Temp could do better than some half-brained bouncer. But Gabe wasn't there to tell her no anymore. And thus, Temp became Sasha's right hand, breaking up fights (with a little too much gusto) and tossing out drunks. Sasha tried to get Temp in on the more questionable work she did – shakedowns and intimidation. But Temp always told her to piss off when she tried.

A couple years later, something dark grabbed hold of her dusty little town: a creeping, crawling sickness that moved through the town like curling vines, ensnaring everyone it could manage to wrap itself around. First you got sick. Then your spirit dwindled, your eyes dimmed, you coughed and vomitted and couldn't get out of bed. Then you died. After enough deaths with no sight of a cure, there was a panic. People started fleeing the town in droves. Temp was one of the last holdouts, jumping on the final rickety wagon out of the dead town, helping a kid up to his mother when --

Finn. Where was Finn?

She couldn't stop herself from running back to his shop. He'd been fine the last time she'd seen him from across the square, he was healthy, why wasn't he –

Finn was sitting at the front counter. He was gazing down at an old pocket watch. Temp recognized it. He'd always fiddled with it, but no matter what it never worked. He glanced up at her before turning back to the device in his hands.

"I'm sick," was all he said. Temp felt something break in her. She immediately opened her mouth to argue, to yell and scream, but he silenced her with another look. "I've had a good life. Long. Get out of here, kid. Grow older than I did." He held the pocket watch out to her – something to remember him by. In that moment Temp was gripped by burning rage.

What right did he have? Who said he could pretend to be some dying, benevolent grandfather to her, imparting this last gift? He'd thrown her out like she was nothing, after all she'd done. She'd trusted him, relied on him, and what had he done?

Temp hated him. She hated him and she was glad he was dying.

Hot tears pricked at her eyes.

She looked at the watch in his crooked, wrinkled hands. Her fingers twitched to take it.

Then her hand snapped into a tight fist and her jaw clenched shut. She spun from him and ran out the door, slamming it behind her.

Temp tells herself she doesn't regret it.

Additional Info: Terribly superstitious. Blame her grandpa.

Do you have a personal story arc prepared: In the works

Theme Song: Hellraiser by Blues Saraceno

[Heretic]

Maddie Hart

NAME: Madeleine Hart

AGE: 23

GENDER: Female

APPEARANCE: Madeleine is a woman of short stature, standing at no more or no less than 5'3. She has naturally wavy black hair and soft, hazel eyes. The term "sun-kissed skin" might be a bit of an overstatement in terms of describing her complexion, but by no means is she pale.

OCCUPATION: Midwife and caretaker to those who are sick and can't help themselves. Occasionally dabbles in murderous activities in pursuit of her personal goals.

ASSETS:

• A pistol inherited from her father
• A stolen blade
• Rich, her loyal Arabian horse

PERSONALITY: All over the place. Sweet and caring, but vengeful and cold-hearted when certain buttons are pushed. She loves the calm and the chaos all the same, her emotions ruled by her current surroundings.

Despite her fluctuating persona, Madeleine is not sloppy nor careless. Unsurprisingly, she has a soft spot for animals, children, and the elderly and fragile, at times leading her to ignore instinct and play hero. Having been knocked down once or twice before, both literally and figuratively, Madeleine is not easy to scare, although she's wise enough to realize whenever she's been outgunned.

HISTORY: Madeleine Hart has always been one of the townies. She was born to David and Margaret Hart a year after they had her brother, Joshua. As a young girl, Madeleine was a bit of a trouble maker. Her father, a successful farmer, would at times have to give chase as she ran off to be with her animal friends. Madeleine grew up without sisters, therefore most of her free time was spent with her brother who had quite the influence on her.

When she was only 12 years old, Madeleine inconspicuously followed her brother into the fields purely out of boredom and curiosity. It was there Joshua liked to gather with his friends every once in a while and drink, or do whatever else they desired. Getting comfortable, Madeleine watched in silence as one of the boys showed the group an injured racoon, the poor thing barely conscious. When Joshua asked to see it, he started messing with the small animal, torturing it in a sense. It didn't take long for Madeleine to jump out and yell at him to stop. The other boys ran away giggling, and Joshua was left to deal with her alone. At first he was apologetic, but then slowly became defensive. Madeleine was beyond furious with him...

"Relax Maddie, we was only messin' with it."

"What do you mean 'messing with it'? Can't you tell the poor thing is in pain? You're an ignorant coward and a fool-"

"You need to watch your mouth, little sister." His expression changed as he closed the distance between them both. Madeleine could tell he was furious, and instinctively took a few steps back. Unfortunately, the young girl tripped on an old discarded rake half covered in dirt. The fall nearly knocked the wind out of her but she managed to react with urgency and grabbed a hold of the tool before standing up.

"Don't come closer!"

Joshua rolled his eyes, ignoring his sister's demand only to find out he should have listened to her. Madeleine swung the rake and the tip made contact with the side of Joshua's head. The boy was intantly knocked off his feet, his body falling to the group as if he were dead. And maybe he was. Maybe Madeleine had killed her brother. In somewhat of a shocked state, the girl ran off to find her parents. She ran faster than she'd ever done so before, her lungs burning for air but her legs carrying her all the way home.

With time, Joshua would go on to make a full recovery, although the relationship between the siblings was never the same again. Joshua went off on his travels and Madeleine stayed home to learn to be a midwife. Her mother taught her everything she needed to know, and before long both women were working together side by side.

One day, Madeleine was looking after a sick friend when the woman's brother returned. His name was Samuel Roosevelt, and Madeleine knew she was in love.

DO YOU HAVE A PERSONAL STORY ARC PREPARED: Yes

THEME SONG: Ring of Fire as covered by Lera Lynn

[Berlin]

Rosalyn “Roz” Monroe

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“Home” - Alice Walker

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Name:
Rosalyn Monroe | Roz

Age:
Twenty-six

Gender:
Female

Appearance:

Roz stands at 5’1” in her heeled boots, her healthy figure most commonly adorned in button up tops and long skirts. Her frame is undeniably feminine, but it is apparent in her choice of modest clothing styles and colors that this is not a quality she would like to emphasize. Thick, dark auburn hair drapes beneath her ribcage, but it is frequently tied away or loosely braided. Her pale complexion is peppered in freckles, the marks most dense on the bridge of her sloped nose. They continue falling down her chest and are scattered about the rest of her upper half. Her lips are on the thinner side, but they seem to maintain a shade of wine-stained red.

Occupations:

Rosalyn is the owner of the Armadillo saloon, simultaneously working as a madam of the brothel upstairs. She is in good standing with local law, but so much of the business she conducts is done behind closed doors. Law enforcement seems to easily overlook things when they’re offered free service and drinks.

Assets:
- The Armadillo Saloon and Brothel
- Brandy and Barley, a pair of Irish Wolfhounds
- Long double-barreled shotgun
- Colt six-shot revolver held in a makeshift thigh holster
- Some gorgeous ladies who would love to meet you

Personality:

Maternal instinct and a deeply rooted need to protect those under her care stand as the basis of Rosalyn’s nature. She finds that she sticks to her traditions and routines almost religiously, as this offers her a sense of comfort and reassurance that she and the girls will continue to stay out of trouble. Due to her hypervigilance, she is extremely perceptive about people is often on the offense in her interactions with others. She always tries to stay two steps ahead and her plans nearly always include an alternative, never relenting in her efforts to prove she is not one to be underestimated.

Roz lives by a certain code and expects others to naturally fall in line with her morals and ideals. Loyalty and trustworthiness are two virtues that Roz will never compromise on. One step out of line pertaining to either and she will make it a mission of hers to ostracize and humiliate the offender so thoroughly they would never think of acting in that manner again. Once permitted into her inner circle, however, you will be rewarded with the friendship of someone who would do everything in her power to pluck the stars from the sky should you request one.

Roz’s most apparent vice comes in a bottle. She has long struggled with an alcohol dependence that was kickstarted in her younger years. Having such easy access to the substance, there doesn't seem to be an end to this. Not that she sees it as an issue anyway.

History:

Roz was brought up in a very respectable home along with her four siblings, with both a mother and father present. They were avid church goers and ate each meal their mother prepared together around the table, despite the financial hardships that rested heavily on her parent’s shoulders. Her father operated a local saloon and her mother was a laundress, therefore they recruited the children to find small incomes themselves. Roz found a position aiding the upper class women of the town in the upkeep of their homes, taking over their duties of cooking and cleaning, often before their husbands would return. The wife of Joseph Baker, town preacher, was one of her employers, but Rox despised her time there. Joseph would frequent invite her to stay for dinner, but at her refusal, he would “accidentally” knock over her dust tray or bump the meal she had prepared from the table. His hand found itself resting on her shoulder or her thigh far too often. He complimented her young features in a manner that she knew now to only be predatorial. Roz pleaded with her parents to allow her to cease her time in the Baker home, but for their daughter to refuse to work for their preacher would stand as an insult. This answer was only solidified upon her father’s diagnosis of tuberculosis.

Mrs. Monroe remarried with urgency after the death of her husband. It was a necessity that she find someone to support the family and Marcus Lee was the first willing to step forward as the head of their household. He picked the family up and moved them to his neighboring hometown. He was a fairly decent man, if it wasn't for the occasional rise of his temper. He ruled the home with a stern grasp and left little air for them to breath. As soon as she was capable, Roz began outlining a plan of escape. She began with the saloon her father had left behind in Armadillo and, despite an outrage from the local men, she claimed it up once more for the Monroe family. She worked relentlessly to convert a previously decrepit upstairs space into living quarters, originally intending for the rooms to serve as lodging. It wasn't until she began receiving inquiries from local women desperate for a livable wage that she considered a brothel. Her and the girls made quick work of the place and they were functioning successfully within the first year.

One customer in particular would send a stick into the spindles of the life Roz had created, however. Brother Joseph Baker visited frequently, coming in late in the evenings or before the sun had even broken forth from behind the dirt. His hair had grayed and his cheeks had sunken, but he still walked with the same sense of entitlement he always had. Rosalyn watched him without falter each and every time he came, her stomach twisting with strong instinct. Her suspicions were proven when one of her girls scrambled down the stairs to the bar, nose draining red down into her lips, eye sockets darkened and swollen, handprints already welting around her neck. Roz shot her preacher in the back as he was buckling his pants and straightening his clerical collar. It was an anticlimactic event, his body falling to the hardwood with a hefty thud. It was almost easy for Roz. Due to his unusual hours, the building was empty of customers and the girls were more than willing to help in cleaning and disposing. Baker’s wife went on assuming he had skipped town due to her inability to bear children and that was that. No further questions asked and Pastor Baker still resides deep within the ground out back. Beside him rest four other men, all swiftly punished for their acts against women. After a glass of bourbon, Roz sleeps quite well at night, guns and dogs at her side.

Additional Information:

The cellar beneath Roz’s establishment remains entirely off limits to anyone but her employees. Within it, she mans her own moonshine still and frequently has the ladies working to dilute her more costly alcohol with water. These are not the only secrets locked below the floorboards, however.

Do you have a personal story arc prepared?:
Yes!

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[ONL]

Erik "Smooth Face" Viken

Name
Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken
Age
31 (Born 7th of May 1866)
Gender
Male
Appearance

Hider

Occupations
Farmer. Born and raised on a small town Minnesota farm, Erik knew from a young age how to plow the fields and tend the livestock. Did that for a long time. Until their farm was burned down.
Vigilante. When the bandit bastards burned down his family's farm, Erik sought help from the Law. When the Law couldn't help him, he turned to those outside the Law, they didn't care. That left only him, his horse "Knegg" and his rifle to sort out justice. So who knows on which side of the Law Erik is. Sometimes he doesn't know himself.

Assets
Erik doesn't own a whole lot these days. All his possessions is carried on his back and on his trusted horse, "Knegg".

• Knegg, the horse he loves, his last family.
• Winchester modell 1873 lever-action rifle.
• 1873 Colt Single Action Army Revolve
• Knife
• Protestant Bible in printed Danish
• Two pouches of ammunition for his weapons

Personality
Erik, the second-generation immigrant from the cold north, is quite the friendly fellow to most people. His father and mother were once strangers to America, and taught young Erik to always to friendly and kind to those around him. Erik is helpful to those he finds in need, be it a minor or greater problem that he can overcome. Sometimes it has gotten him into problems, but his manlier side shows itself. Brought forth by a hard-working childhood and the destruction of his home and family, Erik is not afraid to beat your ass if you deserve it.

History
Erik "Smooth Face" Torvaldson Viken's story begins not in Montana, but far away. Across the mighty blue Atlantic Ocean in a country far north, where his family came from. His father grew up in a small mountain village in Norway's middle mountain range, working the land as best he could in the harsh condition of the middle 1800's. One day the mountain sides could no longer hold their heavy burdens of rock and dirt, and let it all slide down towards an unsuspecting village. Few died, but nothing was left to save in the ruins. Some tried in van to rebuild, others moved to the cities in search of good fortunes.

Erik's father immigrated to America. Without a penny in his pocket and only the clothes on his back, life was not easy for a newly arrived foreigner in a strange land, speaking little of the foriegn language. An oppertuniy opened itself to Erik's father in the form of the Civil War, where all able-bodied men were called to defend the Red, White and Blue. He joined up in a Scandinavian regiment, fought valiently throughout the war and learning both the language and the rifle. With the war won by the North, large swats of land were open for the soldiers and immigrants, including Erik's father.

Erik himself was born in early 1866, one year after the great war ended, in his family's new farmstead up in Minnesota. His father had met and married a young Spanish immigrant like himself, quite the unusal couple. Life was not easy on their farm, but it was well-earned. Erik never struggled for food or safety in his youth, only new that a good life required a good day's work. He grew up to learn both the plow and the rifle, like his own father had, as well as learning both his father's and mother's tounges. Life was hard, but good.

That was until the raids began. At first they were only the usual cattle-rustlers from up in the mountains, easily scared off by well-placed rifle fire from the family's duo of marksmen. Then they dared come closer, guns firing in both directions. Then they got close enough for their faces to be seen, and then...Erik remembers that night as clear as a cloud free day, everything. The shooting, the shouting, the blood, the faces of the bandits...the fire. By the end of the fight, both of Erik's parents were dead defending their home. Their home was in flames, the livestock and harvest taken by the bandits heading South, and Erik? Tears running down his cheeks, he vowed to take revenge on his parent's killers, whatever the cost may be.

That cost proved itself to be big. The Law couldn't help him, the bandits having gone far over their local juridstiction as they moved south. Then when he tried to arrange for some guns for hire to help him track them down, they refused. They were just as dirty as the raiders back home had been, refusing to rat out on their fellow comrades. Erik left that meeting in Kansas a few bullets short, a bloodied nose and the Law after him. But he just kept heading after the bandits, on his way helping others in need and taking the law into his own hands when needed. He would have justice. And if the Law couldn't serve it warm, Erik would serve it cold as ice.

His search for the band of bandits, their name changing across the United States as much as they ruined lives on their route, has finally lead him to a small town called Armadillo. Here is trail has ran cold, but his heated blood is sure to warm it up like a river in spring. He will have his justice. And afterwards? Perhaps a new life with meaning?



Additional Info
Erik speaks three different languages, thanks to his upbringing: English, Norwegian and Spanish.
Do you have a personal story arc prepared
Yes. Revenge and a new life.

Theme Song

[Nyther]

Charles Starrett

Name: Charles Starrett
He gave himself the nickname of Church, but no one calls him that. Despite him insisting otherwise.

Age: 23

Gender: M

Appearance:


Occupations: Former ranch hand turned deputy/bounty hunter

Assets: Single action blued with black wooden handle and a metal cross within the handle Colt .44 he calls Cain carried in a black crossdraw holster/belt

Cain

Blued Marlin lever action .44 rifle he calls David

David

Grey and black spotted Appaloosa horse (Duffy)

Duffy

Personality: Slightly cocky and ego driven. Goofy and sarcastic. Tries to act cold and heartless, but has slight compassion.

History: Growing up helping his family on their ranch was all Charles knew for many years. That was until a group of cattle rustlers attempted to rob the family ranch. Still being young, Charles was left at the ranch while his mother and father went out to confront the thieves. It did not end well as both of his parents were killed. Charles could only sit curled in the corner and cry and he heard the screams and cries from his parents. Only wanting the cattle and horses, the men left without any further incident.
A few days later the sheriff from the nearby town was following up on a report of another ranch being robbed, he came across Charles. The sheriff, taking pity on the poor boy, took him back to town and raised him as his own. When he came of age Charles became the town deputy and became a rather skilled sharpshooter. Recently, feeling the need to travel out on his own, Charles has started taking different bounties in order to save up to leave the town.
While the Sheriff would rather Charles stay and take over the job of Sheriff, he understands and supports Charles' need to find his own way.

Do you have a personal story arc prepared: Yes. He will eventually come across the gang that robbed his family.

[Tsar Gatto]

Fimion ‘Finn’ Goodwin

Name
Fimion ‘Finn’ Goodwin

Age
28

Gender
Male

Appearance


Occupations
Bounty Hunter
Prospector
Outlaw

Assets
Pair of Remington Model 1875 revolvers.
Winchester Model 1887 lever-action shotgun.
Dark Mustang named ‘Beethoven’.

Personality
Finn was once an upstanding young man. Polite, honest and hardworking were all terms that certainly would have applied several years ago - now however much more rarely so. Life has taught Finn that honesty and manners can only get you so far, and not nearly far enough when most of the folks out in the world would sooner rob you blind or put a bullet in you if it saved them the trouble of a difficult conversation or made them money.

Always cautious Finn has learnt that honesty is best used as a tool when required or earned, rather than given freely to all. Ironically most of the time now lies are all that protects him from a lawman’s noose or a bounty hunter’s bullet.

Very slow to trust at all he is convinced that there are very few decent folks left in the world, you’d certainly be hard pressed to make your way into the ranks of someone he’d consider a true ‘friend’. However if you did somehow find yourself in his good graces you’d discover that Finn is actually a solid man to have beside you both in and out of a scrape as well as a good laugh too.

If you find yourself on the more hostile side of Finn however you’d perhaps be unlucky enough to discover how vengeful and even brutal his tendencies can become. A man who has the ability to do terrible things in the name of those he cares for and himself and is even coming to enjoy doing them.

Life has once too often taken from him the things he cares about and so he has become harder and stronger to do the things he needs to do. He would have lost all hope and descended into darkness had he not met and fallen in love with Freya, a relationship that has come to mean more to him then anything else in the world.

History
Born October 8th 1868, Finn’s young life could be generally described as unremarkable. His father, George Goodwin, was a wealthy businessman who ensured through schooling the boy was educated to a high standard in both academic as well as physical disciplines. His father worked away frequently for long periods as he owned several mining operations in numerous countries, this left their relationship somewhat lacking. Finn instead spent much of his free time with his mother who he absolutely adored. Though more than financially provided for she insisted on continuing her own scientific studies and attempted to have several works published much to the opposition of her husband who disagreed with not only her ‘radical’ views regarding the role of a woman within a household, but also her insistence on the pursuit of discovery.

At age 14 Finn’s life changed dramatically when his father sent his mother to stay in a ‘specialist facility’ that focused on ‘feminine thought and attitude disorders’ - or so he recalled having overheard during one of their heated arguments.

Unfortunately only months after her departure a letter was received that informed them she had contracted Typhoid Fever and died within a week.

Finn was crushed and blamed his father entirely for her death. He barely spoke a word to him when the pair were together - which he avoided wherever possible.

At age 16 Finn secretly signed up as a crewman on an ocean liner and made the trip to England. Though his identity was discovered and he was quickly returned to his father (whom had an office as well as much influence in London) the event served as a catalyst, his father deciding to send him to work with the hope that he would gain some much needed perspective on life.

The Godwin’s latest acquisition was located in Egypt (which had very recently come under British control), and so he was sent there to observe and learn from his father’s employees as they set up a new facility. Over two years he learnt a great deal about the nature of his father’s business and more importantly that he wanted very little to do with it. Most of the men involved were morally bankrupt or cared far more about wealth then they did human life. He also spent much of his time with the soldiers and mercenaries in his father’s employ and learnt how to shoot, fight and gamble - ironically he found that men who killed for a living held themselves to slightly higher standards.

Finn fell in love with the daughter of one of the mine’s overseers, a young half Egyptian-Italian woman by the name of Dendera. Though the pair were young they began to plan a life together.

At 18 he was done with his father’s business. He took what pay was due to him and booked passage back to the states for him and Dendera. Just before the voyage began he proposed, Dendera accepting and the pair planning to wed once they’d found a place to call home.

Unfortunately there was a severe outbreak of Cholera on board the ship, the pair falling deathly ill before they had reached their destination. Whilst Finn would eventually recover Dendera was not as fortunate and would never live to see America.

Once recovered Finn began to wander the states living off his backpay and the occasional odd job wherever he could. Eventually he made his way through his finances and turned to life as a Hired hunch Bounty Hunter and occasionally prospector work to replenish them - though he still abhorred the ‘civilised’ way businessmen did things he kept contact at a minimum with those types of people.

That seemed to be life until at age 22 word reached him that his father was dead. Finn learnt that he had in fact died some several months prior, apparently the majority of his ‘fortune’ having been seized by rivals following a string of unfortunate occasions and poor business deals. His inheritance consisted of little more than a family home he did not wish to see again and so he quickly sold it to once more supplement his income as he travelled and worked.

At age 25 he first met Freya. The pair soon fell into a partnership in more ways than one, finding that they both worked excellently together as their relationship deepened.
Soon they were regularly robbing both bandit and traveler alike as they roamed the west, occasionally working with others as they pulled off the occasional larger job. Though it was messy and they left more than a few corpses behind them it seemed that so far they had managed to make no small amount of money and come through relatively unscathed.

Do you have a personal story arc prepared
Rough idea yeah

Freya Schur

Name
Freya Schur

Age
24

Gender
Female

Appearance


Occupations
Bounty Hunter
Outlaw

Assets
Smith & Wesson Model 3 Revolver.
Winchester Model 1894.
Spotted Appaloosas named ‘Gin’.

Personality
Freya could be called fiery, passionate and certainly ‘unladylike’ at the best of times. Growing up in a man’s world has taught her that whilst occasionally helpful her femininity tended to be more of a hindrance than a boon unless used as a tool - as such she is far from societies picture of a perfect lady.

She has learnt that to ensure her survival and success that others tended to need to be bent to her will - something she has become very skilled at doing one way or another.

She generally lacks any empathy or compassion unless it comes to those whom she just so happens to call friend (who are generally few and far between).

Freya can otherwise be very manipulative and even downright cruel when she judges the situation calls for it. The world is a cold hard place and those not prepared to deal with and come out on top deserve all the poor fortune they get.

Intelligent and determined Freya plans to make her fortune before ‘retiring’ to some tropical paradise one way or another.

History
Freya never met her mother, at least not that she could ever recall. Her father was a scoundrel and bandit through and through and she grew up poor and constantly on the move with his ‘gang’. When she asked him about her mother he would always shrug and say that she was a French whore that’d found the business end of a lawman’s shotgun and little else.

Her youth was chaotic at best, never in one place too long surrounded by the more undesirables in life she was raised amongst the wilds in more way than one.

At age 15 she had lived and endured more than most could claim. She had grown and thrived in an outlaw’s world, one that was dominated by men and come out the other side more or less intact. Her father had protected her where possible however he was often away which left her exposed to the machinations of his lawless companions who decided that their carnal desires outweighed the supposed bonds of brotherhood.

Upon his return there was a rather bloody confrontation that left three of the five men riddled with lead – unfortunately however he too received what would become a slow but fatal wound and several months later he died. Freya continued his ‘work’ and after several months tracking the men she finally ended things on her own brutal terms. This set in motion the beginning of her own career as both an outlaw and Bounty Hunter as she started to mastermind what jobs she could find.

The years progressed as did her skills, eventually at 21 she met Finn playing cards and soon the pair were working jobs together and their relationship deepened as did their successes.

Do you have a personal story arc prepared
Rough idea yeah

[One Who Tames]

My Hider

Name Conal Wolf alias Savage

Age 25

Gender Male

Appearance

Occupations
Bounty Hunter
Mercenary
Outlaw

Assets
1873 Springfield Trapdoor Carbine 45 70 (Cavalry)
Smith & Wessen Schofield Revolver
CSA "D Guard" Bowie Knife (15" blade)
Skinning Knife
A Horse with various saddle bags and other stuff

Personality
For his loved ones, Conal had been described as distant or even cold. His fellow soldiers might describe him as brutal and underhanded. To his commanders, he was effecient. Strangers tended to think of him as charming. The closer a person came to knowing him, the darker their reviews of him became. In truth, Conal was aware that he could little relate to the people around him. What he did understand was when to smile, when to say "please" and "thank you" and when to hurt people.

He does not enjoy hurting people. In fact, he feels very little for the suffering of others. Conal enjoys the act of completing a task effeciently. He is capable of being ruthless, underhanded and seemingly sadistic all in the pursuit of the objective. To him, the ends always justify the means. And, to him, if a person allows themselves to be taken advantage of then they deserve to be taken advantage of by him.

History
Conal was born in 1872 to a wealthy Kentucky family. He was educated and joined the Union army as a Cavalryman as soon as he was able. Eventually, he found himself deployed in the West with the 7th Cavalry where he served with distinction. Some time after the battle of Wounded Knee Creek in 1890, after hearing that he was to be one of many who would be awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions during the battle, Conal went AWOL from the army. Reportedly he was hunted down and executed for treason by his fellows.

Since that time, a man going by the name of Savage has been wondering the former frontier lands of the West. He has managed to keep mostly to himself and makes ends meet by hunting down bounties and as a mercenary.

Additional Info
"He didn't leave because of what he saw at Wounded Knee. It's not like it bothered him to kill redskins or anything. He would sleep just as well killing reds or you an' me. I think what bothered him is how happy everybody seemed to be over it." - Union Cavalryman when asked about Conal Wolf.

Theme Song
When The Man Comes Around

[NorthernKraken]

Penny

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Appearance

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Theme

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Appearance

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At 5’3, Penny’s short, willowy stature comes across as entirely unassuming. Her delicate features are almost entirely unmarred by the harshness of life in New Austin, and whilst she usually keeps her tresses of soft brown hair tied back out of her face, it falls long and wavy when she lets it down.

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Assets

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Nothing but a revolver, the clothes on her back, and a small amount of cash in her pocket.

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Personality

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Penny prides herself on being a good homemaker, her value being in the skills she brings to the table. Cooking, cleaning, mending and other domestic tasks are her forte, and she remains demure and quiet when not called upon to act.

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History

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Those seven words scrawled on a piece of tattered paper with rust coloured creases make up the entirety of what Penny knows about her past. The letter, along with the formerly white dress she was wearing were the only things she’d had on her when infamous outlaws Jack and Luke O’Reilly found her with blood in her mouth (and everywhere else), half dead, face down in the dirt. It wasn’t a lot to go off, but Penny knew one thing - she had to find her husband. At any cost.

Miles from anywhere and unwilling to leave an injured woman alone to fend for herself, the O’Reillys quickly adopted Penny as one of their own, and she adopted them right back. They came to an agreement - the O’Reillys would keep Penny safe whilst she looked for her husband, and she would cook, clean, and generally make their life on the road feel a little homier.

Penny was aware of the things they did that weren’t quite… legal. The gunfights and the bloody clothes and the running weren’t part of the simple domesticity she longed for. But true to their word, they kept it away from her, and true to hers, she continued to search her husband wherever they went. It was an easy routine, until it wasn’t.

One second, Penny was stirring a pot over the fire, humming softly under her breath - a tune she’d heard Luke sing on several occasions. The next, the O’Reillys were barrelling into camp, half a dozen of the sherrif’s men showering them in bullets. Penny hadn’t even realised she was moving, but then Luke’s revolver was in her hand and

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Six men. Dead on the ground with bullets dead centre between their eyes, and just like that Penny was a killer.

Horrified at her actions, Penny ran away into the night, not even stopping for food or an extra change of clothes, the only possessions she had were the rifle and the clothes on her back. She walked for days, before coming across the town of Armadillo. It was imperative now - she had to find Porter. Her husband. It was obvious now - she was nothing but a mindless killer, and that was okay if it was keeping her husband safe, but without him? Those men had died for nothing.

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Do you have a personal story arc prepared? Of course not, whatever gave you that idea? =P