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Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by Kingfisher
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Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by Sterling
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Name: Harriet Coleman

Alias: By those who know her she is called Harri. The rest probably call her Miss Coleman.

Age: 24 years old

Gender: Female

Origin: Lexington Kentucky, a border state teetering whether they were Confederate or Union.
Being a Coleman her family probably hailed from England some time back.

Current Occupation: Nurse and Midwife. Before the war Harriet was just a farmer’s daughter, but with the fighting came the need to heal. While rather young, the Army trained Harriet for a nurse by the Union and the skills stuck. She now works with the town’s local Doctor, though the ailments of Laredo are not as trying as the ailments of war.

Appearance: Harriet is not what one would call the most beautiful woman in the world. Or even a beauty at that. She has fair skin and bright brown eyes, but her features are common place, as is her straight brown hair (mostly worn up in a braided bun out of the way in a practical and comely fashion) .

An average build and an average height Harriet’s most striking feature would probably be her nerves of steel, and her ability to perform and even be soothing in a dreadful situation (as an army nurse would need to be, experienced in battle field amputations and dying men all around her, or a midwife would need to be with a screaming soon to be mother laboring) . She has a sweet reassuring smile normally tucked into the corners of her mouth and steady hand and a kind word while stitching a fellow up.

She dresses for cleanliness and practicality, in long sleeved dressed, cuffs typically rolled up to her forearm to keep them out of the way and worn boots. Almost always Harriet wears dull colors of fawn brown, dove gray, or the lightest of blues, her goal in dress had never been to impress or to be seen. Normally she wears a starched white apron over her dress with its pockets carrying the contents a nurse might need readily available.

When going out Harriet modestly covers her head from the scorching sun of Texas with a plain white bonnet. A little dated but then during the most 'fashion driven' years of Harriet's life she was covered in mud and gore. Pretty things just didn't seem to matter after an adolescences of blood.

Personality: Her vocation speaks volumes to her nature, a person who wants to help and isn’t afraid to get dirty in the process. Also the fact that after the war she did not return home to her brothers and father to marry as many girls her own age says something more.

Harriet likes her work, helping people and being independent. Sure she’s not loudly proclaiming her freedom as a woman but her choice to move to Laredo and peruse a life on her own rather than the one she knew back on the farm shows that Harriet might be an adventurer at heart.

Soft spoken and gentle handed Harriet believes you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Of course that is not to say she is a pushover. She knows what is right and if a patient is proving difficult Harriet’s iron will and stubborn side is known to show itself. Nurse knows best after all.

Skills/Abilities: Being a farmer’s daughter Harriet has a fair green thumb (she grows her own herbs (for cooking and medicinal) as well as her own small vegetable garden) and knows her way around livestock.
Being a nurse she has medical training and can sew up a wound just as easily as she might darn a sock or hem a skirt.

She does know how to handle a rifle and a few pistols but hunting and shooting other people had never been something Harriet wanted to do.

Harriet learned to play the piano as a special treat for being the only girl in the family.

Miscellaneous: Since Harriet from such a young age was tending to others she is not the most adept at the other skills women her age 'should know'. She can keep a tidy house, but it is medically so, not ecstatically. She can cook but it is just the bare necessities and is often more comfortable with campfire cooking than in the big iron ovens.

Never will Harriet produce a beautiful cobbler or pie, nor design a complex patch work quilt. She can can and pickle and jar foods but those made by another will always have a more refined taste.

This applies to her own appearance as well. Harriet never learned complex hair styles or makeup at all. A nurse doesn't need to have ringlets and pink cheeks. A braid and her own simple face will have to do.

History/Bio: Harriet was born and raised on the family farm in Kentucky. She was the only daughter in a family with 4 boys. A middle child Harriet was expected to do her chores and keep up with the rest of the Coleman’s, no special treatment for her aside from the piano lessons granted for not making as much trouble as her brothers did.

Living a fair distance from all the other farmers Harriet spent most of her childhood either trying to keep up with her older brothers, keeping the younger ones out of as much trouble as she could, or sitting with the cows and the chickens . When Harriet became old enough to go to school she made more friends and found she enjoyed learning her figures and her letters much more than talking to the chickens. An excellent student Harriet’s parents allowed her to attend school much longer than her brothers and so she became the most educated of the Coleman’s.

When the war broke out Harriet watched in dismay as all the young men went off, including her brothers. As the fighting waged on the only girl Coleman felt she needed to contribute as well, though she chose to be nonviolent. The army took her and trained her as a nurse. While terribly excited to be learning more skills and acquiring more knowledge, Harriet had a heavy heart from all those moaning crying boys whose hands she held as they died. War was just as awful as she had expected it to be, and each time the injured were brought to the medical tents she was afraid she’d see the face of one of her brothers.

However, she never did. In fact while two of her brothers came home from the war ( to some degree at least) a third was killed and the fourth missing, presumed dead. When the south fell and the armies were recalled Harriet returned home, only to find she no longer belonged. It wasn’t enough to bring a smile to her father’s face with her piano playing, and it wasn’t enough to watch her brothers stare out at the fields vacantly. Harriet wanted to help more.

So she left Kentucky and moved to the new and terrifying state of Texas, where there was a sure promise. A promise to never have to see her own family broken into little pieces, and a promise to help as many sick and injured as she could. It took some years to finally find a doctor who would take her on and even pay her but the traveling and searching was worth it.

Secrets: None

Relations: Harriet’s family back in Kentucky. Father: John Coleman Mother: Elizabeth Coleman Eldest brother: Samuel Coleman- Alive, wounded. Second Eldest Brother: Jesse Coleman – Died in the war, Younger Brother: Horace Coleman, Alive, effected in the head from the war, Youngest Brother: Ira Coleman- Presumed dead, missing.
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Bluetommy
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Bluetommy Disastrous Enby

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Name: Lorenza Arvid Carter

Alias: Arvid Carter

Age: 33

Gender: Male

Origin: Born in Mexico.

Current Occupation: Huntsman

Appearance: Square jawed, pale skinned, with no facial hair to speak of. Arvid has a prominent scar that passes over the left corner of his mouth. He has dark brown hair, worn short in an undercut fashion. He is 6'2", thin but still toned, and lanky. He wears a vest made of aged horse hide, with small pads extending over the shoulders. Over this, he wears a belt from left shoulder to right hip, and another belt in traditional position. His pants are tweed breeches. On his left hip, he wears a colt single action army, made of gunmetal.

Personality: Arvid is loyal to his family, fiercely so. He hates those who take advantage of others, and has a strong sense of honor, however, he is gullible, and will compromise his code of honor if it would save himself. He wanders the west in search of a purpose in life, wanting to see new places and do what he believes is right. He has a fear of death, and often contemplates what comes after. Arvid has no personal religious beliefs, but he does think that a higher power exists. Arvid loves fighting, and often smiles when he gets the upper-hand in a fight.

Skills/Abilities: Arvid is a very good shot, with years of hunting on his belt. Arvid trained in various bar brawls, eventually creating a hand-to-hand fighting style, crafted for spontaneous fights, the style is very defensive, focusing on waiting for his opponent to slip up, and if that doesn't work, he shoots them, often after a punch to get them off of him long enough to draw and fire.

Miscellaneous: Arvid speaks in a Mexican accent and is fluent in Spanish.

History/Bio: Lorenza Arvid Carter was born to a Mexican woman, and an American man. Abraham Carver was a fugitive, running from the law, on charges of murder and arson, which were completely founded, but Carver had a reason, a reason that he took to the grave with him. Maria Carter was the daughter of a Mexican farmer, raised on a ranch with six brothers and two sisters. The two met when Abraham crossed the border to escape the law, they were married within the month. Eventually, Lorenza was born, his name was chosen before they discovered his sex, and Maria refused any attempt Abraham made to change it. The two ran into the wilderness, becoming hunters who sold the pelts of Pronghorns to the highest bidder, eventually building a log cabin near a river, just off of the American border. Growing up, Arvid (As his father called him) was a hyperactive child, who loved to help his father hunt, Lorenza (As his mother called him) also loved being with his mother. A few weeks after Arvid's fifteenth birthday, american authorities took Abraham away in the dead of the night, executing him for his crimes. Arvid and his father were hunting when they heard footsteps off of the beaten path, with Abraham informing his son to hide in the bushes. A few minutes later, Arvid emerged to find his father's gun laying on the ground. Due to this, Arvid, in pure rage, rode across the border, engaging in a shootout with the law. Barely escaping with his life, Arvid began travelling, as outlaws aren't very good at holding jobs. Arvid wrote to his mother often, he was pleased at the fact that she was able to live on her own, promising to return someday at the end of every letter he wrote. Arvid made a living hunting, using the knowledge his father passed on, travelling from town to town with whatever pelts he had gotten, selling to whoever would buy it, and living off of the meat. Arvid had already been in Laredo multiple times, only returning now to finally rest and stop travelling for a while, he was unsure as to how long it would last

Secrets: Arvid doesn't want anyone but his mother calling him by his actual first name.
Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by PhoenixWhite
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Sombrero
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Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by idlehands
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idlehands heartless

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Name: Benjamin J. Ross III

Alias: none

Age: 31, born April 13, 1837

Gender: male

Origin: Born in San Antonio, Texas and his family moved to Austin briefly but lived much of his life on a small farm to the west of the town in the hill country.

Current Occupation: Currently working as a hand on the Double Eight ranch owned by Joseph McCall.

Appearance: Benj stands about 5’11’’ in his stocking feet, his body is wiry and lean muscled with little fat to spare. His hair is deep chestnut brown, tousled and grown out, it now hangs down past his ears. He has a thick moustache and has let his beard grow, currently a rough thick stubble. His eyes are pale blue-grey, set in a lean, chiseled face lined from war and the hot Texas sun. His left leg is slightly crooked and shorter than the other, a result of a wound taken during the war.

He often wears a faded blue striped work shirt under a dark brown wool vest and a pair of sturdy tan colored trousers, patched at the knees. His boots are well made sturdy waterproofed deep brown leather, worn down at the heels, especially the right as he compensates for his limp. Though it’s rare to need to wear a coat in Laredo, he has a long tan wool duster that he keeps on hand, his hat is his Confederate cavalry officer’s hat, a black hat with creased crown and one side turned up more than the other. He carries with him a Bowie-style knife, a Henry rifle and Colt Navy pistol he took from a dead Union cavalry officer. He rides a sturdy grulla dun mustang mare named Lucy.

Personality: Laconic, introverted for the most part he is more intelligent than he looks and given the right mood and level of intoxication, will tell a few stories.

Skills/Abilities: Experienced tracker and rider, he can go long distances in the saddle, following the trails of bandits. He’s had to learn to pick up the often hard trails of Apache and Comanche raiders and has a rather keen eye for detail. He is a good marksman though will never claim to be the best. He can hold his own in a brawl but prefers to use his words than his fists if he can, especially since his injury.

Miscellaneous: He is an avid reader of pretty much anything though his favorites are history and poetry. It is not something he talks about much though he has been seen with a book in his saddle bags or writing in a journal. He does have a habit of drinking but his real crutch is opium, in particular morphine, that he became addicted to after he was injured.





Relations: (PM me for any ideas)
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by User
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Name: Doctor Charles Richardson

Alias: Doc, Richardson, [For what the players call him]

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Origin: A white caucasian male, he is from the union side of the war.

Current Occupation: None, he has just finished his role in war

Appearance: A very tall man, standing at 1 meter 7, short brown hair is forever stuck to his face as he walks around, he has one eye, one being biological the other being made of glass. He wears a monocle, not because he needs it but because he thinks it makes him look smarter. The one eye he has is a light brown going grey over time. In terms of clothes he wears a grey waistcoat with a gold chain connected to his pocket watch in his top pocket. A white smart shirt and red jacket over the top. He has grey trousers and black leather smart shoes. His Colt 1851 Navy Revolver strapped to his leg and a Spencer Repeating rifle on his back.

Personality: Crude and miserable. He cares not for their endless ramblings and problems, sad from when he arrived home from war to the day he will die. He hates life as a whole, can't imagine how all these kids can live knowing that great men died for them to live, men better than him. A real sour puss but has a heart none the less, if you have a problem. A real problem then he will try to help you the best he can.

Skills/Abilities: Speed when in a hurry, Quick Drawing and shooting with his revolver despite the kick it has. He can also fire his rifle to a fast degree with a lower amount of accuracy. Speed with a horse and cart, lieing to anyone he can see.

Miscellaneous: I'll cover IC

History/Bio: Doc Richardson had a fairly average upbringing, average for what he would become. You see, Richardson is a troubled character with a troubled life and pedigree to prove just that. Born in 1827 to a couple of townies he had a ideal childhood in the large city of New York. His Father was a local Physician and he looked up to him like a hero, He worshiped and adored his father, because of him he never had to worry about money or other children giving him a tough time with anything. As he grew up he learnt lots about medicine and bio science. He even convinced his father to import medical journals from england and europe that he could learn from.

A few years later he was made a surgeon, he was good at it in the next years, he felt, for those short years as if he was helping people. Making a real difference, he even had people survive surgery occasionally, and that made him feel talented. He read up on people who had racked up a fatality rate of 300% and laughed thinking he would never be like that. He vowed he would never be like that, never in a million years. How wrong he was.
In 1861 the war started, he was at that time in a great point of life, he had money. Land and a wife. It was a real grand time, so when the war started he didn't want to join, would just be a waste of time. But when they started conscripting he knew he had to volunteer or he would just be another foot slogger. Unfortunately, they didn't take kindly to his late acknowledgement of duty so they made him a field medic, a really embarrassing job for a well known surgeon. All the men and women he treated were people he recognized from New York city and the look of glee when he was there to help made it better than he expected. Moving through the war he had to deal with bullet wounds and sword strikes. He saw many good men die because the army wouldn't free up a bed if an officer was taking some extra time on it. He went into that war a man of honor, believing that the government cared. And left knowing that too many good people died for what little reason. When he arrived home early in january the second 1865 he learnt his wife and children had moved on to a new husband and forgotten about him. So now he travels away from NY towards better opportunities. And that's how he arrived in Laredo

Secrets: He was a feared man in the war, having a higher body count than most soldiers. The men who entered his surgery room left without their life, their soul or a appendage. He changes them when they enter his room, for better or worse (IE the pain would drive them insane. Not magic)

Relations: PM me for ideas
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Antediluvixen
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Antediluvixen Kemonomimi Dystopia Creator

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Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by RoadRash
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RoadRash

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Name: William Joseph Cothran

Alias: Bill

Age: 41

Gender: Male

Origin: Born in San Antonio in 1827, moved to Laredo as a child in 1840, after the Texas Revolution

Current Occupation: Cowboy / Foreman at Joseph McCall’s Double-Eight Ranch

Appearance: Bill Cothran is the quintessential cowboy. He stands 5’8 in his stocking feet, all lean muscle and wiry strength. His skin is tanned dark, leathery from exposure to the elements, and there is a good deal of gray in his unruly shoulder-length mop of hair, his bushy mustache, and the stubble on his jaw. He walks slightly bow-legged, a testament to a life spent on horseback, and his hands are scarred and calloused from decades of hard, honest labor.

He wears the usual long-sleeved work shirts and trousers associated with cowboys of the day, as well as sturdy leather boots and a wide-brimmed hat. He has battered leather chaps for use on the range, and tan duster for when the weather turns ugly. His horse Injun is a bay paint gelding, a mustang he roped and broke himself.

Armaments:
Remington 1858 Revolver, with the new 1868 conversion to .46 Rimfire cartridges
Winchester Model 1866 Repeater chambered in .44 Henry, carried in a saddle scabbard
Double-barreled shotgun, carried in his bed-roll on his horse
Natchez-style Bowie knife
40 foot lariat

Personality: Bill Cothran is a grump. He’s an ornery old ranch-hand with little time for nonsense, and among his men he’s known for his zero-tolerance policy in regards to whining, back-talk, and laziness. While he’s known to let expletives and (occasionally) fists fly around his hands, he’s unfailingly polite in the presence of ladies and believes that a man who doesn’t take his hat off at church is a man who’s looking to get a beating.

Skills/Abilities: As a lifelong trailhand, Bill is a master horseman. Some men ride their horses; Bill makes his dance. He’s raised Injun to be a cattle-running steed, and can make the horse jump, stop, or pirouette on a dime, and has the skill to stay in the saddle on the sharp, brutal turns required to cut a cow from the herd or lead one back in.

He’s a decent hand with a revolver, but is a solid shot with his Winchester. Though not a veteran, Bill has fired plenty of shots at banditos, rustlers, and Apache raiders in his long tenure on the plains.
By far Bill’s greatest assets are his physical and mental toughness. Rain or shine, hot or cold, feast or famine, Bill’s single-minded nature and lifetime of trail riding allows him to stay on task in conditions and situations that many men would shrink from.

Thanks to a life lived in Texas and often working alongside Mexican ranch hands, Bill speaks fluent Spanish.

Miscellaneous: As a young man, Bill was married to the lovely Maria Cothran. She died in childbirth in 1849. He also has a fear of snakes, and kills them on sight.

Fun Facts: Bill is very nearly illiterate. He only began learning to read within the last few years, at the behest of his employer.

Joseph McCall, the owner of the Double Eight ranch, is a childhood friend of Bill’s.

History/Bio: Born in 1827 in San Antonio, Texas, Bill was the son of Arkansas ranchers who moved to Mexican Texas seeking good land for low prices. His father, Thomas Cothran, owned a small ranch with a few dozen head of cattle, and began teaching his son to rope and ride almost as soon as he could walk. When Texas launched its revolution against Mexico in 1835, Tom Cothran went to war and left Bill and the rest of the family behind. After the Battle of San Jacinto, he returned home to resume his duties on the family ranch.

In 1840, five years after the war, Thomas moved Bill and the rest of the family to Laredo. Tom found work at the Double Eight ranch, then owned by John McCall. Tom Cothran quickly proved himself a skilled hand, and by the time Bill was old enough to start working out on the range his father was already the foreman of the Double Eight.

After his father died in 1855, Bill stayed on at the Double Eight, eventually taking over his father’s position as foreman in 1858. When the war began, Bill stayed out of it. Though not a stranger to violence, he couldn’t bring himself to go out and kill his fellow Americans over what amounted to political squabbles. Instead he remained in Laredo, faithfully running McCall’s cattle for the duration of the war.

Secrets: None

Relations: Benjamin Ross works as one of the hands under Bill on the Double Eight.
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