Introduction
Yes, we really are still accepting, so no need to ask in OoC! :) If you're worried about catching up on all the posts, don't sweat it, you can PM me with any questions. Keep in mind that this is intended to be an advanced RP, so please don't apply if you don't have basic writing mechanics down pat.
EDIT: At the moment I am no longer accepting regular townsfolk. I'd like to get a couple more people to play as either law dogs or outlaws, so please pick from one of those two groups. Other positions in the town will be open soon!)
Introduction
Ah, the Old West: a time of hope, action, adventure, luck, and new beginnings. (And, of course, some really badass cowboys, saloons, and other cool stuff like that.) This illustrious period of history, however, was not without its dangers. In fact, the latter half of the 19th century was a pretty perilous time to live, what with the threat of wild, unsettled areas and even wilder bandits and outlaws roaming the land. But people were drawn to the promise of new and exciting happenings out West, and dreams of untold riches and great adventure lured many a thrill-seeker, miner, and enterprising businessman out into unclaimed lands.
As defined by writers Hine and Faragher: The Wild West βis a tale of conquest, but also one of survival, persistence, and the merging of peoples and cultures that gave birth and continuing life to Americaβ. βThe Westβ is always the land beyond the current boundary, the place that is just beyond our reach. And so we must keep exploring, keep expanding and keep surviving to write out next great adventure.
Story
This RP is set in 1875 in the town of Splitcreek (located in Arizona), a booming mining town currently experiencing a lapse in law and order. People come to Splitcreek for many reasons, but all are alike in their struggle to make their way in what is truly the Wild West.
Maybe youβre looking to start over. Maybe you want to strike it rich. Maybe youβre trying to forget the past, or find your future. Perhaps you have a score to settle, or a debt to repay, or a lost love to find.
Splitcreek isnβt the quiet little town it used to be. Times are changing, tensions are rising and blood is being shed, with the promise of more to come. Will you bring justice to Splitcreek? Or will you assist in its undoing? Grab your gun and choose your side; the Wild West waits for no one.
The Town of Splitcreek
The town of Splitcreek was founded some 5 years ago by a down-on-his-luck miner by the name of Earnest Stanley. Out of food, out of money, and just about out of hope, Stanley found a forked river cutting through the nearby hills and made his camp. Two days later, he found gold in the river and struck it rich. What began as a one man show soon became a bustling mining camp, and over the next five years, a prosperous town. With new people coming every day, Splitcreek is booming.
Unfortunately, the growing population has caused problems. The wealth of the town has attracted some less than desirable characters, and with law and order in short supply, things are getting out of hand. Some people have taken to calling the town "Bloodcreek" as a result of the recent violence.
The threat of cowboys and outlaws, however, has not deterred business men looking to turn a profit. Hotels, banks, general stores and the like seem to be cropping up every day, and Splitcreek is on itβs way to becoming a big city. For now, though, the town consists of one main street lined with saloons, hotels, a post office, speciality shops (saddler, silversmith, etc), and other small businesses.
As with any good olβ Wild West town, Splitcreek has an impressive number of saloons, most of them open all day and night. The most popular, though, is the Silver Spur Saloon, an establishment with the perfect mix of wealthy clientele, friendly barkeep, lots of betting, good liquor, and of course, rowdy bar fights.
The wide main street of Splitcreek is where most of the action takes place. Shoot outs, bar fights too rowdy to be kept inside, and the hustle and bustle of the town all happen here.
Geographical Features
(Youβre welcome to travel and make reference to these locations in and around Splitcreek)
Buzzardβs Bluff- This infamous Buzzardβs Bluff is a grisly, miserable place. Pray you donβt end up here. Some 3 miles outside of Splitcreek, the bluff is far enough away that by the time you get out here, no one can help you. The rocky bluff is a barren place, covered by just a few scrubby bushes and some cacti. The lack of vegetation is used to highlight the structure for which Buzzardβs Bluff is most famous: a hanging tree. Dozens of cowboys and criminals have been strung up here, and the bodies are left hanging as a warning to other outlaws of the West.
Dead Manβs Gulch- About as friendly as it sounds. An isolated canyon just a mile from Splitcreek, some pretty shady stuff goes down here. With just one way in and, consequently, one way out, the gulch works as the perfect place to trap anyone foolish enough to wander by. Itβs the site of many shoot outs and show downs, and itβs rumoured the screams of the dead still echo through this ravine.
Stanleyβs Point- The original spot on the riverbed where Earnest Stanley struck it rich. This mining spot has long since dried up, so most mining is concentrated another couple miles upstream, but Stanleyβs Point is still thought of as a place of luck and good fortune.
Splitcreek Graveyard- Not so much a geographical feature as another part of the town. It lies just a quarter mile from Splitcreek, a small, quiet place that holds the bodies of the town's deceased inhabitants. Earnest Stanley is buried there, along with a few dozen others. It's a small graveyard, and in pretty bad shape, as there's no church to take care of it. There's no religion here in Splitcreek.
Character Skeleton
Given Name:
Nickname (Optional):
Gender:
Age:
Good guy or bad guy? Explain:
Position/occupation (Sheriff, outlaw, rancher, barkeep, etc):
Personality (AT LEAST 5 strong, descriptive, well-developed sentences):
Skills:
History:
Courting anyone? Being courted?:
Married?:
Appearance (Please provide a detailed description of your charrie. You may post a picture in ADDITION to a description, but not as a substitute):
Town Characters
Current Character Count: 16 or 17, depending how you slice it
((EDIT: Currently the only characters I am accepting are those looking to apply to either the law dogs or outlaw groups. Other positions in the town will open up soon.))
The majority of characters will be split between our lawmen and outlaws. A record of everyone in and around the town will be kept here:
Lawmen:
- The Sheriff: Kain Hadwin (played by the_judged)
- Town Marshal (Essentially second in command): Samuel MacTaggart (played by pseudoimagination)
- Law dogs (those looking to bring justice to the town/enforce the law):
THERE ARE CURRENTLY NO LAW DOGS
Outlaws/Cowboys (There will be no assigned lead role for the outlaws. You may head up own gang, or to join up with other players):
- Wildcat Kate (played by Luv-is-a-Bug)
- Richard Jones Bell- leader of the Bell Gang (played by PreachingLegionary)
You are, of course, more than welcome to play as an outlaw or lawmen, as Iβm sure these will end up the most predominant groups. However, if youβd like to branch out from these positions, here are some other suggestions:
- Ranchers/cowboys (those driving cattle Westward): Hattie Thomas (played by Saiyan Princess)
- Businessman/ bar owner: Jan Hass (played by crazygumbomb)
- Genderal store owner: William James Masteron, Jr. (played by an0nymous)
- Barkeep (Preferably at Silver Spur Saloon): Jack "On the House" Westfield (played by PreachingLegionary)
- Miners:
- Saloon girls: Halley Quinn (played by Arabella13)
- Schoolteacher: Bonnie Bohannon (played by Calvazara)
- Doctor: Morgan "Doc" Crowe (played by Luv-is-a-Bug)
- Banker:
- Gunsmith/Blacksmith: Jethro "Black" Blackburn (played by Twisty)
- Gun for hire/Undecided: Damian "Nomad"Kovacs (played by Firewind)
- James Seth (played by Shadow44499)
- Frank Gregory and Preston Rizzo (I'm counting these 2 as a package deal) (played by dig17)
- Resident Sexy Beast/Town Drunk/Womanizer: Cooper Winston (played by InvisibleSoul)
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 19 authors
Currently, Morgan was doing what he did best (after medicine, anyway), which was to sit at his favorite spot in the Silver Spur Saloon, order quite a few drinks, and smoke. Oh yes, Morgan did this very well. It wasn't that he was lazy, he just appreciated the luxury of being able to sit in a town that was, for once, relatively quiet, and listen to the buffoon at the piano play the same tripping melody over and over and over. Were there more exciting things he could've been doing? Sure. But Morgan wasn't much in the mood for excitement today, or any day, really. If he had his way, he'd be settled on some quiet little ranch with a sweet little lady and a couple of kids. But that was not to be. Some of us are destined to be mothers and fathers, and some are destined to be brooding war veterans who pass their time stitching up the cracked skulls of drunken fools.
So here he was in the town of Splitcreek, which he'd liked quite a lot until about four months ago when the outlaws started coming in. Rats and snakes and liars and cheats pouring in by the dozen, causing trouble and making a mess of a nice little mining town. Morgan snarled in disgust at the thought of it, taking a long pull on his beer. Yes, somebody needed to do something about those cowboys. Somebody, but not him. No Sir. Since the war, he'd made his way as a respectable doctor. He was a thoughtful, quiet man who minded his own business and did well for himself. He didn't need to be anybody's hero. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd make a good hero even if that was a position he fancied. He'd already given heroics a shot when he went off to fight in the war, but it turned that war wasn't nearly as noble or clear cut as he'd originally thought it to be. In fact, there were times it was impossible to tell which side was in the right and which was in the wrong. Sure he was morally opposed to slavery, but did that really give him the right to slaughter another man? Some of them hadn't even been men. They'd been boys like himself, foolish young boys seeking glory and adventure. And he'd killed them, in the name of what? Freedom? Goodness? These days he couldn't even remember. The war had been over for years now, but it still haunted his conscious. He'd hoped to leave his ghosts behind when he came West, but they'd followed along after him, relentless as ever. Now he did his best to do what little good he could and to keep out of trouble.
Still, something had to be done. Maybe he'd talk to the town marshal about it. Yeah, that's what he'd do. ...Right after he finished his drink. Taking another generous drink from his beer, Morgan looked around the saloon, noting its inhabitants. It was relatively empty today, just a few people playing cards and some sad, sorry soul in the corner weeping into his whiskey about a lost love named Delilah. He grunted, nodding his approval, then turned back to his beer. This was the way it was supposed to be. No reckless outlaws barging in, whooping and hollering and firing their damn pistols, just a quiet afternoon in the Silver Spur before business picked up tonight.
Kate tugged the brim of her black Stetson down a little further, squinting out across the shimmering desert. For miles and miles there was flat, red dirt, studded with the occasional scrubby bush or prickly cactus. Behind her lay the formidable mountains from which she'd come, and before her lay...a town? Yes, it was a town. She could barely make it out, but it was definitely there- a collection of small buildings on the horizon. This must be her lucky day! It'd been four days since she'd seen a town, at least. She laughed at the memory, recalling the rowdy gang of outlaws she'd left just this morning.
She'd met them about a week before, six scruffy bandits who called themselves "The Railroad Gang", as they had a reputation for thieving from the railroad camps constructing the railway West. It'd been easy enough to work herself in, and she'd proved herself the first night when she assisted in holding up a stagecoach and looting a nice load of fine jewelry and cash. The gang had almost immediately informed her of their plan to rob a bank in the budding town of Blackshade, and Kate was only too happy to assist.
Unfortunately, the robbery hadn't quite gone as planned. Tex, who was supposed to keep watch, got distracted by a pair of drunk saloon girls and wandered off, and Kate and the gang were caught in the act by a very angry sheriff. Two of the gang were killed before Kate could blink, and she'd hastily scooped up two sacks of what she hoped was a fair amount of cash and dove out the nearest window. Gunsmoke, ever the trusty steed, was still standing calmly at the hitching post where she'd left him, and she'd hurriedly swung into the saddle and ridden for her life, the sound of gunshots echoing behind her.
She'd met up with the three surviving members of the gang at the appointed meeting place (another outlaw had been killed in the process of Kate's escape) and said she'd be happy to continue North with them. Of course, Kate knew that was far too dangerous. That sheriff would stop at nothing to get the gang, and that meant she needed to split, and fast. So she'd stuck with them a couple days more as they headed through the mountains, then, at the first opportunity, stole their cash and took off.
Now she was approaching a strange town with god knows what kind of lawmen. Had they ever heard of Wildcat Kate here? Well, they were about to. Smiling to herself, Kate gave a loud whoop and spurred Gunsmoke forward, galloping towards the town.
She pushed the swinging doors open, and walked in. It seemed quiet enough, with the usuals sitting around. She pulled up a seat next to Morgan, and was almost instantly handed a glass of whiskey by the barkeep. She handed over some money, and drank her Whiskey. "Howdy Mr. Crowe. Anything interestin' happening here today?" Jenny asked, her smile becoming slightly bigger when she spoke to Morgan.
She was, as usual, armed to the teeth, which he didn't blame her for. There was no law against being armed in town, and since trouble started brewing in Splitcreek there were plenty of people who went around with a pistol in their belt, just in case. "Howdy, Jenny," he replied, tipping the brim of his hat. He didn't smile, but Morgan didn't smile very often. It wasn't that he was unhappy, just that he didn't much see the point in big silly grins and unnecessary pleasantries. If he was conceived as rude, so be it. "Not so far as I can tell. Town's pretty quiet, for once. Sure would be nice if it would stay that way," he said, mostly to himself.
Minutes later, he saw a woman galloping into the town, a woman who looked familiar somehow... Alex quickly remembered who she was, she was Wildcat Kate, and she'd just dug her own grave. He pulled out a revolver and fired a shot into the air to gain her attention once she was close enough.
"Hold!" Alex ordered, "Get off your horse and drop your weapons, or I'll shoot both you and your horse."
She nudged Alex to get his attention. "She aint to be messed with, Marshal. Watch yourself."
She wasn't paying much attention, not the way she should've been, anyway, and was surprised to hear the crack of a gun. Gunsmoke was just about bomb proof, but a gun going off ten feet away will scare any animal, and he threw up his head, snorting and stamping up a storm. "Easy, easy," she murmured, laying a hand on his sweaty neck. The big bay whinnied, prancing in place, and Kate squinted at the shadowy figure standing in the shade of the building.
Great. She'd ridden two feet into town and there was already a trigger-happy bozo here to greet her. Finally quieting Gunsmoke, Kate jerked down the kerchief serving as a dustrag and gave her biggest smile. "My, what a welcome! Don't I feel special- a personal greeting from..." she strained to make out the words on his badge, "the town marshal!" She faked offense, shaking her head. "What, suddenly Wildcat Kate ain't good enough to meet the sheriff himself?"
Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned her name. Maybe she should've played dumb, pretending to be Sally Mays from Oklahoma or something like that. Ah well, too late now. Just then, a woman emerged from the saloon, running to the marshal's side. Oh hell, now there were TWO of them, and the girl was armed to the teeth, two pistols already drawn and trained on her head. "Well, now that y'all know I'm here, I'd best be taking off. Pleasure to meet you, Marshal, and I'll be seeing y'all real soon." With a wink, Kate jerked up her kerchief and clapped her heels into the Gunsmoke's sides.
The animal leaped forward, galloping off as Kate hunched over his neck, drawing her pistol and firing a shot behind her. She sure as hell hoped Gunsmoke wasn't too tired to run, because she was a lousy shot on horseback, and that looked to be one determined town marshal. All she needed was to get out of sight, and she could stash Gunsmoke and head back into town, see what she could do to shake up the town. But first...first she had to get away.
Jenny was already on her feet, pistols drawn, but Morgan had no interest in offering his assistance. That's what town marshal's were for, right? It sure as hell wasn't his job to jump in and set that crazy rider straight. He watched Jenny go, looking out the window to see what he could of the confrontation. It promised to be an entertaining show.
McDowell met the Southern troops in battle, at Bull Run;
Above the Union vanguard, was proudly dancing seen,
Beside the starry banner, old Erin's flag of green.
Colonel Corcoran led the Sixty-ninth on that eventful day,
I wish the Prince of Wales were there to see him in the fray;
His charge upon the batteries was a most glorious scene,
With gallant New York firemen, and the boys that wore the green.
In the hottest of the fire there rode along the line
A captain of a Zouave band, crying, "Now, boys, is your time;"
Ah! who is he so proudly rides, with bold and dauntless mien?
'Tis Thomas Francis Meagher, of Erin's isle of green!
The colors of the Sixty-ninth, I say it without shame,
Were taken in the struggle to swell the victor's fame;
But Farnham's dashing Zouaves, that run with the machine,
Retook them in a moment, with the boys that wore the green!
Being overpowered by numbers, our troops were forced to flee,
The Southern black horse cavalry on them charged furiously;
But in that hour of peril, the flying mass to screen,
Stood the gallant New York firemen, with the boys that wore the green.
Oh, the boys of the Sixty-ninth, they are a gallant band,
Bolder never drew a sword for their adopted land;
Amongst the fallen heroes, a braver had not been,
Than you lamented Haggerty, of Erin's isle of green.
Farewell, my gallant countrymen, who fell that fatal day,
Farewell, ye noble firemen, now mouldering in the clay;
Whilst blooms the leafy shamrock, whilst runs the old machine,
Your deeds will live bold Red Shirts, and Boys that Wore the Green!
Your deeds will live bold Red Shirts, and Boys that Wore the Green!*
Today was not going well for Wildcat Kate. Not only had she ridden into the small mining town, only to be confronted by the local marshal and an overly brave (and overly armed) girl but her escape attempt was about to turn sour. Coming down the middle of the road, was Darby O'Rourke, singing, not at the top of his lungs but close enough. He was on foot, setting an easy marching pace, the very same one that had been drilled into him as a soldier in the vaunted Irish Brigade and leading a fat mule, which was trying to drag itβs feet. The animal wasnβt fond of going into places that gunshots had recently come from.
Darby however, didnβt much care who was shooting, so long as it wasnβt at him, which is why he was singing, other then because he enjoyed hearing himself do so. He was letting everyone ahead of him know, that he was coming through. Of course that didnβt mean he was just going to walk through a gunfight. He had unslung the loaded Springfield model 1873 and wrapping one hand around the grip, rested the long rifle on his shoulder.
As the sound of hoofbeats came racing towards him, the older soldier stopped dead in the road, the mule turning sideways in an attempt to leave the area. Hold the muleβs reins in one hand, he watched the approaching rider without concern and calmly stood his ground. Whoever it was, they werenβt just going to ride him down or force him to jump out of the way, no sir! He had marched through raining artillery fire and made bayonet charges against massed rifle fire, one single horsemen wasn't going to make him turn aside.
Besides, with the two small bags of gold dust in his pockets, he felt like he could buy the whole town, which only added to his cocky boldness. The river had been kind to him recently, allowing him to pan out more then enough gold this time. Not only could he afford a night in the saloon and the supplies he need for his mining camp but he had money to spare this time. Enough to buy a few more claims or get the tool he would need to start digging down into the earth, searching for veins of rich ore beneath the desert.
*The Boys That Wore The Green by William Woodburn
Above the pound of hoofbeats, Kate heard, much to her surprise...singing? Coming towards her? Who walks towards gunfire? Singing, no less! She peered through the dust churning around her, making out the hazy shape of a man and a pack mule. And what was said man holding? A gun, of course.
The rifle was resting on his shoulder, and Kate took a small amount of comfort knowing that her pistol was already drawn and she could easily fire off two shots before he ever hoisted his gun. He didn't cut a particularly imposing figure, this dusty man with his beraggled mule, but hey, she wasn't about to underestimate anyone with a firearm. But why, why, why was this crazy miner blocking her path? Christ, why was everyone trying to be a hero these days?
"Clear out!" she hollered, racing towards the man. He wasn't moving, and neither was she. No, Kate had set her course, and she intended to stay on it. The mule was balking, braying and stomping in the ornery way mules do, but the man was at least twice as stubborn as the animal, and he wasn't going anywhere. "Dammit! Clear out, I said!" she yelled.
The man looked at her without concern. She was mere yards from him now, and she made a last ditch effort to make a point. She fired a shot at the man's feet, sending a blast of dirt into the air. Now she was mad. Not only was he in her way, he'd made her waste a bullet!
She oughtta put a bullet through his head right now, teach him not to mess with a hardened outlaw. And she probably would've, too, except that Gunsmoke made up his mind before Kate, and, being a well-reasoned animal who knew it was easier to go around things than through them, the horse veered left, very narrowly avoiding the terrified mule. Spotting an opening between two buildings, Kate shook her head in disgust and turned a hard left, a cloud of choking dust appearing from under Gunsmoke's hooves as the pair skidded off main street, tore down a short, narrow alley, and galloped onto a smaller side street.
Stealing a quick look out the window revealed that the so called "marshal" was recklessly shooting of his gun at someone riding off into the distance on a shrouded horse. Everyone that didn't have a ball to spare rushed inside their houses and shops faster than the now distant figure could fire bullets. Jenny quickly rushed to his side armed to the teeth, both guns drawn and slowly approaching the the line of fire babbling something about wildcatkate and hows she's a dangerous one.
"What the hell is that Arschloch doing?"He muttered to himself as he reached for the nearest article of clothing. Quickly he dressed himself(not to say orderly), and rushed down the small set of stairs faster than his stubby legs could carry him. There were very few people in the bar, being as it was a slow day and all. His eyes scanned the room, finding the nearest person to be a scruffy gold miner.
"You!"He barked, pointing a chubby finger at the vagabond."Tell me, what is the tΓ€uschen doing?"
And lord, how Morgan hated Jan Hass. Not that that was uncommon. Hass was a pretty hated man in Splitcreek. Greediest penny pincher you ever did meet, and mean to bet. Morgan shook his head as the short, pudgy man came rushing down the stairs, his beady eyes scanning the room. Dee-lightful. Hass was currently interrogating a clueless (and very, very drunk miner), who, rather than answer Hass, had decided to talk about how his wife left him and now all he had was his banjo. Really, the whole thing was very funny, but Morgan could tell Hass was getting fed up, and there was nothing worse than a fed-up Hass.
"I'll tell you what's going on," Morgan barked from his seat at the bar. "Some good-for-nothin' outlaw's passing through, that's all. So why don't you get back to bed, you drunken buffoon." Downing the last of his fourth and final beer, Morgan stood up from the bar, tipping his hat to the man. "Oh, and thanks for the beer."
Ahead he thought he saw a gunfight, his lips licked and a slow chilling smile started to come across his face, he almost felt tempted to leap into the fray, his gun blazing to get the person on the bounty, he started to chuckle to himself that was slowly starting to turn into an almost berserking laughter, at that moment his horse whinnied, snapping him out of his reverie. he looked at his horse and made towards a drinking trough in front of a particular tavern that a dusty sign read Silver Spur. Looking at the tavern he cocked his head to the side in a odd sense of thinking.
"Maybe a job's open there, unless the town Marshall or someone nabs me to be their deputy or bodyguard." Damian muttered to himself as he dismounted off his horse and let him start drinking before he started to walk in, hearing someone thanking the bartender for a beer as he wandered to an empty table and down, he gave the Man and the bartender a friendly nod before setting his eyes on the table to concentrate on other matters in his head.
'' Now y'all know I ain't the one to hold a grudge am I boys?'' Bell asked as he rested his bolt action rifle against his shoulder. While his eyes wandered over his gang he casually lit a cigarette that he'd kept between his lips. With a sigh he let out a puff of smoke and approach his second in command Cliff Baker. Baker was probably as smart as the rock he sat on but he made up for it with a muscular body, a taste for blood and a good swing with his club. Baker had never been much good with a rifle but Bell was the first one to tell him to just use is fists instead of wasting precious ammo.
'' Now Baker... Why don' you tell me about the incident again?'' Bell said as he leaned in and stared into the dull eyes of his slow comrade. Baker was undyingly loyal to Bell like a dog to it's master and if someone made his boss mad he would get mad too. Yeah...
'' Well Boss... Me an' One-Eye... an' Hans the German... an' the Withers brothers wus' just comin' back from Bullhorn.. You know the town Boss?'' After finishing the sentance the dull giant looked around for the men he mentioned but turned back quick after a slap to the head by Bell and a irritated glare.
'' Uh.. right.. Well Boss Hans said he had to take a piss or..'' Baker went quiet as Bell walked over to Hans and blowed smoke into the stocky german's face. In the gang Bell was judge jury and executioner and there was no such thing as a trial. The gang backed and formed a ring around Hans and Bell. Hans went pale and sweat started to form on his forehead, running down his dirty face. Bell remained quiet as he handed over his bolt action rifle to Jackson before taking off his duster which Jackson also grabbed. Bell started to pull up the sleeves on his red checkered shirt and stretch his arms. At this point panic struck Hans who had tried to remain calm to not draw any attention to his mistake.
Hans knew it was his fault for falling behind the others and talking to much in the Bullhorn saloon. He had caught the eyes of many unwanted people and the bounty hunter who had been cought in the area around their camp was one of them. Hans had closed his eyes as Baker forced him on his knees.
Bell wiped the blood from his knife on Hans' shirt as he stod up. The german wasn't dead but without eyes and tongue he wouldn't last out in the warm desert. Bell's crew knew to go back to their business of breaking camp as soon as the deed was done and Jackson hurried off like the others after returning the coat and rifle to Bell who had sat down on a stone next to the moaning bounty hunter. He brushed some sand off of his chaps before putting his duster in his lap. He let some smoke sip out from between his lips as he loaded one single bullet into his rifle.
'' You know this ain't nothing personal. But we just can't have a law-dog following our footsteps.'' He aimed the rifle to the poor man's skull and he flinched as he felt the cold steel press against his skin. Bell squeezes the trigger and splattered the boy's brains over the sands.
It was noon when the gang finally finished breaking up the camp and Bell told his men to get on their horses. They were heading for Splitcreek, that's the town the bounty hunter mentioned before he became vulture food. Bell was a wanted man but his face remained unknown and at worst he looked like a dirty bounty hunter or vagabond. His crew on the other hand looked like they were born in jail and if he wanted a quiet time in the saloon he was going alone and it was a fact the gang knew and accepted. They were ordered to make camp in a secluded place and meet him outside of town when he was done.
'' Y'all behave untill I come back ya' here?'' He said and put his spurrs into the side of his grey stallion ''Colonel'' and took off.
Alex ignored Jenny's warning for the aforementioned reasons and proceeded to fire a shot at Kate with his revolver, but missed as she served away due to an oncoming miner. Damn, only 7 bullets left before he would have to reload. Alex swore loudly before whistling to call up his own horse, Gale.
"Jenny, help me chase her down." Alex ordered, "For all we know she could have a whole gang waiting for her to return, so I might need an extra gun."
Alex began running after Kate and quickly mounted Gale and hurtled after Kate. Gale was an American Standardbred, and lived up to his name through his speed.
Alex had seen the path Kate had taken, so she hadn't managed to throw him off her trail. Once she was once again in sight, Alex kicked Gale's sides to make him go faster so he could catch up to Kate. He wasn't going to waste bullets firing at a target moving that quickly, he was going to wait until he was close and then tackle her off her horse. He might even slit her throat if she resisted.
She'd left that miner in the dust, and there was no way he was coming after her with that mule. As for the marshal...well, she hadn't seen a horse when she was riding in, but then again she hadn't gotten very far before he'd fired his first shot and ordered her down. For all she knew, he was mounting up right now.
As if to confirm her suspicions, a second set of hoof beats rang out behind her. Whatever he was riding, it was fast and fresh. Gunsmoke just might be the fastest pair of hooves in the west, but she'd been riding him for near seven hours now with only a short break at a muddy creek bed. Probably not the wisest decision to have come galloping into town, but hell, Kate loved to make an entrance, and wise decisions never had been her specialty.
She didn't hear any more gunshots; it seemed the marshal was concerned with bullet conservation as well, and Kate weighed her options, wondering if it was worth it to swing around and go hunting through her saddle bag for another pistol. No, he was too close. The sound of his horse, snorting and breathing hard, was fast approaching; he was definitely gaining.
What to do, what to do? There was a saloon on her right, a quiet little establishment that probably had a great deal of trouble competing with the larger and more impressive Silver Spur on main street. There were 3 horses out front, saddled and drinking from the water trough. She calculated five seconds for a change of mount. What would those five seconds cost her? Gunsmoke was tiring, there was no way she could outrun a fresh horse on him. He was smart enough to head for the hills once Kate got off, but she hesitated to leave him with her other weaponry still in her saddle bag.
The saloon was just yards away now. Time to make a decision. Whipping around to snatch up her saddle bag, Kate thrust her feet from the stirrups and poised herself to leap onto the antsy paint horse now prancing nervously before her. With a whoop and a holler, Kate sprung from the saddle and leapt atop the paint, hastily scooping up the reigns and turning him away from the post. Gunsmoke had taken off, the empty saddle bouncing on his back, and Kate clapped her heels into the fresh mount's sides. "Better hurry, Marshal!" she crowed over her shoulder, urging the paint horse forward.
And she was off again, galloping through the town with wind tearing through her hair and a wild look in her eye. Wildcat Kate was back with vengeance.
He could've stayed to chat, but Morgan had already wasted the better part of the day in the Silver Spur, and it was high time he got back to his tidy little office and had himself a nap. He didn't hear any more gun shots, but that didn't mean it was over. More likely, Alex was just being careful with his bullets. Fingering the gun holstered in his belt, Morgan pushed his way through the double door of the saloon and stepped out onto the porch.
Alex's horse was gone, which meant he'd given chase. "Better you than me," he muttered, shaking his head. He himself had walked to the Silver Spur, as his office was only a few storefronts away on Splitcreek's main street, and he headed that way now. His office was in the opposite direction from the chase, which was good; he wouldn't have to listen to the racket of a showdown. Hopefully whatever low-life outlaw had ridden into town hadn't brought friends.
Headed for his office, Morgan caught sight of a new wanted poster that'd recently been put up. It was a woman this time. Uncommon, but not at all unheard of. "Wildcat Kate". He snorted, shaking his head. Well damn, she had herself a proper nickname and everything. For amusement, he looked over the other wanted posters, noting a certain "Richard The Bell-Ringer", among many other outlaws. Seemed there were new posters appearing everyday. He whistled through his teeth as he saw what "Mister Bell" was wanted for, scanning the long list of charges. A very grisly fellow, certainly not someone you'd want to run into on a dark night.
Reaching his office, Morgan headed up the two steps to the porch of the sagging wooden building and sat himself down in a rocker, his hand on his gun as he drifted off to sleep.
Alex was right, he was soon neck and neck with Kate.
"It looks like you're about to get declawed, Wildcat." Alex smirked as he hurled himself from Gale's saddle at Kate in an attempt to knock her off her horse and shove her to the ground. He had certainly jumped at the right angle and he was stronger than Kate, he just had to hope she wouldn't be able to shoot him before he had her on the ground.
The startled horse jumped forward, but swerved sideways, and Kate muttered a string of foul curses under her breath as she struggled to get her steed back on course. The marshal was gaining ground, and Kate was growing desperate. It was time to shoot him and put an end to this wild chase, never mind the no-kill policy. She looked over her shoulder, ready to train her pistol on the marshal's head, but he'd vanished. Whipping back around, she found him to be right beside her, riding hard and fast. The horses were running side by side, Kate's horse actually glad to have the company of a confident mount. Some getaway horse he'd proven to be.
Kate's eyes flashed surprise, and she struggled to reposition her pistol, determined to blow a hole through the gut of the cocky lawdog who dared to challenge her. Her fingers fumbled as her horse's hoof picked up a rock, and she cried out in alarm as she saw the marshal preparing to launch himself at her. In a last ditch effort to escape him, she jerked the reigns left, but this only served to aggravate an already frightened horse, and her mount clung to Gale's side.
As the large form of The Sentinel flew towards her, Kate ducked low and sat deep, hoping her minimal mass and sheer determination were enough to keep her in the saddle.
No such luck. The air left Kate's lungs in a terrific whoosh as the marshal crashed into her full force, driving her from the saddle. It was like being hit by a freight train. The outlaw hit the dirt with a thud and yelp, taken aback by the pain of hitting the ground after being tackled from a horse galloping 40 mph. The few seconds it took to get her breath back seemed an eternity to Kate, but when air finally filled her lungs again she took to thrashing and bucking and like a bronco, all the while trying to regain her grip on her pistol and blow the marshal into the next state.
Morgan thanked the bartender, stood up, and wandered out of the cool aired bar into the scorching hot desert only to be replaced by another lone wandering customer. It dawned on Jan for the first time that he should do the same, as he had work to do.
Sauntering out from the shaded bar filled with the melody of some slag trying to work the piano, Jan ventured out into the sunburnt and arid desert. The gunfight had long left this part of the small mining and goldpaning town an eerie tone of quiet, though you could still hear yelling and the thuds of hoofs beating the bone dry sand in the distance. The cowgirl stood slack jawed in the middle of the substitute road, forlorn by the yearning to be involved in such excitement.
Unhitching one of his privately owned horses and hopping on (after much climbing and effort) he speed off toward Stanleys point.
He slowed down just outside of town and let his mount walk in with a steady pace. He dismounted and tied the horse to a pole outside of something called The Silver Spur Saloon. Bell could smell the smoke of tobacco and the laughter of the people who had spent most of the day in there, but the drinks would have to wait. Bell had business to attend to for once and it didn't involve shooting, stabbing or robbing. He exuces himself as he almost bumped into an older man in a hurry to the Saloon. As he turned something caught his eyes, a wanted poster with his many names on it.
The Bell-Ringer.. My my ain't I the famous one He thought to himself as he casually grabbed the edge and tore the poster down. He looked it over as he walked down the main street looking for the doctor's office. The wanted poster wasn't that flattering and the drawing off him wouldn't be much for a bounty hunter to go for. The only thing showing under the wide brim hat was is eyes, the rest of his face covered by a handkerchief. He ust be doing something right if that was their best take on him.
His fingers wandered over to his six-shooter as he passed someone who looked like one of them lawdogs that always chased him around the wilderness. But he knew better then to have a shoot out at noon in a town by himself and his hand moved back to hanging by his side quickly. He touched the brim of his hat with his other hand as he passed the men, they gave the same salute back but their eyes didn't leave the scarred stranger. He clenched his fists and looked up in time to see the sign to the doctor's office and stepped up on the porch and eyed the fella sitting infront of it.
''Howdy. I reckon you're the doctor of this town?'' He asked and once again touched the brim of his hat as he leaned against the rail, placing both hands on his belt.
Sighing Damian took off his hat and set it down on the table with one hand, then a few coins on the table with another, calling out to the bartender. "Bartender, A drink if you don't mind, I'm parched from traveling out in the desert." Running a hand through his rust-colored hair he sighed calmly and hummed to himself as he watched the bartender bring a pint of beer to him, regarding one of the other customers as a sad drunk down on his luck.
"First impressions of a town don't lie." he said to himself, "This town is starting to get on it's feet. However if bandits and outlaws keep comin' an' scaring good folk, it ain't natural." He sighed and took a long sip of his pint before setting it down and watching the saloon with a heaving sigh, wandering if something will turn up to make his day a bit easier.
"That's right," he said, his eyes travelling over the man. He didn't look too different from anyone else who'd spent their days under a hot Arizona sun- rough, tan skin, sandy blonde hair, squinting blue eyes. The scars were a point of concern, but Morgan himself had a sizable scar on his left cheek. Still, there was something crooked about the man. It was a gut feeling, and Morgan always went with his gut. But you didn't go around Splitcreek shouting your opinions and suspicions at the top of your lungs, especially when the subject of your suspicion had his hands resting on a belt that looked to concealing some wicked weaponry.
Begrudgingly, Morgan got to his feet and stuck out his hand in the most gentlemanly manner he could muster. Even after many years as a doctor, Morgan never could bring himself to go along wholeheartedly with business or social formalities. "Morgan Crowe. What can I do for you?"
'' Y'all got yourself a fine town here Dr. Crowe. I'm Roland Jones, bounty hunter.'' He said as he put his hat back on his head and placed his hands on his belt again. The scar on the doctor's cheek caught his eye but he made sure to only give it a quick look before turning his gaze back to the doctor. After all he wasn't here to make friends and by the look of the man infront of him he wasn't the friendliest kind either.
'' If you'd be so kind could you take a look at this cut here.'' He said and unbuttoned his red shirt, revealing a poorly bloodsoaked bandage covering a cut on his chest. That Bullhorn saloon gal could handle a knife and she'd used that knife on Bell when he'd become too drunk and too close. He skipped town shorty after before they started to look into who he really were and he couldn't trust no one in the gang to patch him up, not after their ''doctor'' Gordon the Stitcher was filled with lead by the law four months ago.
Morgan whistled through his teeth as Bell revealed the cut, laying a surprisingly light hand on poorly bandaged gash. "You have yourself a disagreement with the missus, Mr. Jones?" he joked, leaning in for a closer inspection. "Why don't you step inside and I'll get you cleaned up an' have myself a closer look. Can't see nothing with all that gauze and blood in my way."
Morgan opened the door and stepped in, ushering Bell inside. It was small, one-room office, about 13'x13'. It was neat and tidy, save for Morgan's desk in the corner, which was an absolute disaster, and had the feel of a comfortable, well-used space. There was a sturdy wooden table in the center of the room, a couple of chairs, a bench stocked with various tools, and about a half dozen shelves mounted on the wall that held all of Morgan's books and medicines.
"Sit right up here, and I'll set to work on that gash of yours," he said, patting the table. Medicine was something Morgan did very well, and despite his laid-back demeanor, he was a very efficient man. He promptly scrubbed his hands in the wash basin the corner, then wet a fresh cloth to clean out the gash. He gathered the needed mix of salves and ointments from a shelf, picked up a roll of gauze, and headed back to the table, setting his supplies on the weathered wood.
"Now then, let's have ourselves a look. Shirt off, please, Mr. Jones."
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View All » Add Character » 31 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Frank Gregory & Preston Rizzo
A pair of veterans trying to earn money a long way from home.
William James Masterson, Jr.
The 'son' in "Masterson & Son"
Cooper Winston
A good-for-nothing, womanizing, drunk asshole to the men, yet a rugged, smooth-talking, seductive bloke that makes the bodice tremble to the women.
Hattie Thomas
*sighs* "Oh well back to work"
Halley Quinn
"Silver Spurs what a place."
Kain Hadwin
Former schoolteacher, turned Splitcreek town sheriff.
Jack Westfield
'' Have one on the house... You know what have another one too''
Jethro "Black" Blackburn
The local gunsmith and arms dealer
Jan Hass
"You dirty pig, pay up or I'll make you pay!"
Richard Jones Bell
The famous outlaw leading The Bell Gang.
Trending
Cooper Winston
A good-for-nothing, womanizing, drunk asshole to the men, yet a rugged, smooth-talking, seductive bloke that makes the bodice tremble to the women.
William James Masterson, Jr.
The 'son' in "Masterson & Son"
Hattie Thomas
*sighs* "Oh well back to work"
Jethro "Black" Blackburn
The local gunsmith and arms dealer
Morgan "Doc" Crowe
A cool-headed, tough-as-nails guy who really wishes he didn't give a damn
Frank Gregory & Preston Rizzo
A pair of veterans trying to earn money a long way from home.
Halley Quinn
"Silver Spurs what a place."
Jack Westfield
'' Have one on the house... You know what have another one too''
Richard Jones Bell
The famous outlaw leading The Bell Gang.
Jan Hass
"You dirty pig, pay up or I'll make you pay!"
Most Followed
William James Masterson, Jr.
The 'son' in "Masterson & Son"
Hattie Thomas
*sighs* "Oh well back to work"
Frank Gregory & Preston Rizzo
A pair of veterans trying to earn money a long way from home.
Kain Hadwin
Former schoolteacher, turned Splitcreek town sheriff.
Richard Jones Bell
The famous outlaw leading The Bell Gang.
Wildcat Kate
Tenacious, hard-headed outlaw looking for trouble
Jethro "Black" Blackburn
The local gunsmith and arms dealer
Halley Quinn
"Silver Spurs what a place."
Cooper Winston
A good-for-nothing, womanizing, drunk asshole to the men, yet a rugged, smooth-talking, seductive bloke that makes the bodice tremble to the women.
Morgan "Doc" Crowe
A cool-headed, tough-as-nails guy who really wishes he didn't give a damn
View All » Places
1 posts · 5 characters present · last post 2012-09-10 23:29:15 »
Splitcreek, Arizona ↪ Dead Man's Gulch Owner: RolePlayGateway
Many go in...few get out.
0 posts · 2 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Splitcreek, Arizona ↪ Splitcreek Graveyard Owner: RolePlayGateway
"R.I.P. souls of The West"
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Stanley's Point Owner: RolePlayGateway
"Best of luck to y'all..."
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Splitcreek, Arizona ↪ Buzzard's Bluff Owner: RolePlayGateway
"We're gonna have ourselves a hanging, boys!"
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Way Out West: Out of Character
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Way Out West
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"Way Out West" Sheriff?
by Luv-is-a-Bug on Thu Jul 05, 2012 5:23 pm
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"Way Out West" Sheriff?
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