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Jackson Curtiss

Sheriff of Fort Travis Junction

0 · 221 views · located in Earth

a character in “Weird West”, as played by Colonel_Masters


(Jackson Curtiss)

Alias: Lawman (Sheriff to locals)
Age: early 40’s
Birth date: 4th of May
Current Residence:Fort Travis junction (quarters in town armory/lawhouse)
Birth Place: native of Fort Travis.
Allegiance: to his community, the law and his own code of justice.
Belief/Religion: morality/ his own personal adaptation of Christianity
Titles/Honorifics: Fort Travis Sheriff
Profession: Law guardian, Investigator, militia.
Hobby:study of philosophy
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Strengths: intelligent, very knowledgeable, good judge of character, resilience for alcohol, decent poker player, experienced in the use of: fists, assault rifles and artillery, knows the local area quite well, decent rider Weaknesses: not at his prime, honest, unreliable left ear, distrust of outsiders, stubbornness and hostility against outside law, works from experience less from imagination.
Height: 5.6
Weight: comparable with his height
Build: used to posses greater strength but gradually dimmed with age, is strong and balanced for his age.
Hair: blond, short
Eyes: blue
Skin: white, burned and darkened by the effects of long exposure to sunlight
Handedness: right handed
Scars: a few but no directly noticeable scars
Tattoos: none
Basic Description: clean shaven and seems older then his years, wares body armor under his clothing (normally made of skins) he also has a cowboy hat and sun glasses when operating in the wasteland. He seems to be a mixture of Spanish, British American origins but has no such linings in his speech or manner.
Disabilities: left ear unreliable due to the effects of shell shock
Most Prized Possession (Material Value): his collection of books
Most Prized Possession (Emotional Value): his badge


Likes: going to church, riding in the countryside, reading, socializing in his native community, smoking, doing his job, whisky, old guns, horses, festivals/celebrations (the such) country music.
Dislikes: outsiders, ego, technology, rudeness, selfish behavior, corruption, personal gain, criticism, immoral conduct, dogs and bounty hunters (there is little difference in his mind between the two).
Goals: to live up to his father who was sheriff before him and make him proud, do his part for the community
Fears: punishing the wrong person, losing his badge, losing his temper and high tech weapons
Mannerisms: respected, cool but feared by his rivals
Psychological Condition: a natural leader and has a way with words, knows his place and doesn’t try to go beyond it. Very loyal to his community.
Aptitudes: knowledge, sociable
Superstitions: killing an innocent life will let a guilty man go free, braking ones word without a very good reason can damn ones soul to hellfire, outsiders by nature want to hinder the community.
Morals: the life of a native to his community is more important then any outsider, the right of a fair trial, life is sacred but the act of taking a life is unforgivable, ones words are his binds, the community comes before the individual.
Positive Characteristics: good with words, has a friendly respective manner, doesn’t care much for his personal gain.
Negative Characteristics: doesn’t respect outside law, has a low opinion of outsiders, only lives for his job.
Relationships: with his community but no personal relationships other then raising his dead brother’s daughter.
Relatives: Jack (father) dead, Lena (Mother) dead, Dane (brother; horse breeder, family of four), Jim (brother; train operator, family of two), Mike (adventurer, no family) ,David (killed by bandits, his wife died in child birth) and David’s daughter, Lena who was adopted by Jack and is 12 years old.
Rivals: long knives gang, his brother Mike, Alistair the local smuggler, the Marks family who run the black market in Fort Travis and many other criminals.
Pressures/Problems: raising Lena


Weapon Name: Dogmeat
Type: Roland & Vickers Type 31 “War hound” multi purpose assault rifle costume version
Function: offers great flexibility of use, while its limited to projectiles it can fire many types from low power peacekeeper bullets to incendiaries and more, a scope can be added for sniper duty along with a grenade launcher for heavy duties.
Description: relatively small but very complex the war hound is thicker then the normal assault rifle, it has multiple magazines and equipped with the grenade launcher can appear to be a small canon. It takes a great amount of time to learn how to use the war hound making it unpopular among unprofessional bands and most militias or as standard issue gear in larger or more professional organizations. The many options of the weapon make it difficult to handle in a gunfight making it not the ideal weapon in an ambush, however this weapon offers a diversity and fire power not many assault rifles can offer.
Item Value: depending on the market, the weapon has no set value and only the few who have the skills and training for the weapon would see its true value which is then very high considering the few numbers produced.

Bowe:Weapon Name
Type: Bowe knife
Function: field knife for both living and killing purposes
Description: I think it looks like a Bowe knife
Item Value: isn't particularly special but could fetch a few dollars
Mr. Quaker :Weapon Name
Type: South Hampton armory double barrel pistol "Dick Turpin" Mk4 automatic
Function: fast shooter, fast drawer and fast reloading side arm.
Description: quite different from American guns and radical in the general firearm industry the DT4 is quite large for a pistol and has some serious over kill issues. The gun barley matches the category of a pistol and focuses on high in pact shots capable to tarring people to bits while retaining a fast firing capability. Jackson was given this gun as a gift from the local area marshal after his war hound proved impractical in an ambush.

Value: could go for a small fortune


Current Story: since his father died Jackson has tried to be the man his father would have been proud of, his brother’s death and the responsibility of raising Lena has proven to be a difficult 5 years of his life but Jackson is still devoted to his job and so far there hasn't been any incurable threat to fort Travis apart from the black market.

So begins...

Jackson Curtiss's Story


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Jackson was riding along the rail; the day was a norm; one or two clouds and the sun as hot as ever. He loved taking long rides like this and did them near the rail to give him a justified reason for them. Nothing ever happened on the rail other then the train passing, the once In a while repair and the usual long knives activity. The long knives were the main consumers of Jackson's trade in these parts, hell he had spent more bullets on them buggers then all the ammuniton used by both sides in the battle of sapper's creek waged during the civil war years back; he should know as he had to clean up the mess they left behind. Jacks had left Deputy Walker as the desk joe while he was away and Lena could look after herself, at least for a few hours. She had to learn to do so any way as she would not have old Jacks looking over her shoulder all her life, most sheriffs didn't live longer then 40 as a rule; age and enemies normally took em out at some point usually collaborating on the subject.

Jackson had considered retiring, Walker was ready for the badge as he had proved more times then god could remember. Never seemed to want to retire, the job was a way of life and was probably the reason why never in the books of Fort Travis had a sheriff retired; they had all died on the job around the age of 30 or 40. Even if he did retire what would Jacks do? Lena would be grown in a few years and then what? No other way of seeing it, without the badge and the title there was no Jackson Curtiss.

The horse puffed, it was a good beast and Jackson's other reason for riding long seeing as his brother was the local horse breeder and needed some one to test them. Since red strap died Jacks found it difficult to connect to a new horse, no horse could be like old strap was; reliable, fast and a life companion for many years.
Jacks heard the rail beat coming on, it was the train coming in probably the express from what Jacks could read from the position of the sun. All the top cargos went on it and the train only stopped near big fish ports like Fort Travis. It would be a few moments before the train would pass along, slower then the rest of the track as it began to brake due to the upcoming junction. Jackson cleared the rail when something caught is eye…


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Striker Character Portrait: Jackson Curtiss Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The train. The train was a hot metal vein, bringing new life to Fort Travis. The train brought new faces, it brought hope, and it brought opportunity. And that opportunity brought Striker. Out from an alley with a mouth full of dust and foul tastes, squinting beneath the brim of her hat in the mid-day sun, roused like a snake from under a rock.

She looked like hell. That long sandy mane was bound with twine, pulled back in a tangled mess at the nape of her neck. Her lips were chapped, her eyes somewhat bloodshot, and her throat dry as the town itself. It would have to wait. The rumble of the train was urging her onward. On up the railing on the side of a building, to a higher balcony where she just didn't belong. But she was often there, watching the new faces, watching for her mouse.

Lately her ability to stack a deck and cheat in general had kept her stomach full and her head down. She'd not stolen anything by force, she simply swindled her way into a meal at any chance..But it just wasn't enough. This town only had so many people to screw over...She needed something just a little more substantial. Something she hadn't quite found just yet. But today was the day. Today that train had the perfect mouse for Striker, she just didn't know yet. Today, like every other day the train rolled in, she was lounging on that rail, sipping warm stagnant water from her canteen as she observed the going on at the junction. What was being unloaded, who was leaving, who was visiting. Important stuff. She'd watch under the heat of that sun, shifting a wooden splinter for one side if her mouth to the other, weighing her options. Hell, the train was nearly empty, and worse, that Jackson fellow was lingering about the track on a horse. Well fuck that.

Striker had not had the pleasure of meeting Jackson face to face, but often she would watch him from a distance. Watching every little move he made, watching the cogs turn in his head, and doing her very best to stay out of his line of sight. The less he saw of her, the better.

She'd spit off the rail before slouching to the side and returning her attention to the train, not giving up hope just yet.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: William Silvaro Character Portrait: Lucien "The Luck" Lachance Character Portrait: Striker Character Portrait: Sharron Rose Character Portrait: Jackson Curtiss Character Portrait: Cain Cassidy
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The Posse wanted something on the mid-day train when it arrived at Fort Travis, which meant that they would need someone in the town, watching for anything suspicious that might be going on there, any unusual characters who might want to fill the outlaws with lead. The problem was, of course, that the group of men were all outlaws, in one way or another, and should any of them be recognized they'd be shot, or worse, thrown in jail and questioned. However, this was not the case with one of the newest members of the group, Doc Silver.

William had been sent on ahead of the train a few days earlier. He hadn't killed anyone yet, no one of any importance who would be missed anyway, and they had yet to put his picture on any wanted posters. He had kept a low profile, which was part of his plan. Keep a low profile, stay around with the outlaws only as long as you need to, find the man who ruined your life, and end his. A simple enough plan, but it was more complicated than that. For instance, now he sat in a saloon in the walled off town of Fort Travis, keeping an eye out for anyone who might but a damper on the Posse's plans, which meant look for anyone with a badge or a gun. It seemed like most people here carried a gun, which was a common sight anywhere, and to him, they all looked suspicious. Even the lady who sat at the bar now, drinking whiskey, waiting or something. She had come in some time earlier and watched a game of cards before she had set to drinking. Watching her down the alcohol hit a nerve with William, made his throat dry, but he knew that fire water was the last thing he needed, especially today.

But then, a man he marked as very dangerous entered the saloon. He was an odd one, wearing black robes in this head, and a hood to hide his face. The man took a seat in a dark corner, and seemed to not longer exist to the others after a few moments, which William figured to be his plan. Sit in the dark, blend into the shadows, draw as little suspicion as possible, then wait. The question was, what was he waiting on?

A short time after this, William got his answer. A rather normal looking man, with a layer of dust on his clothes from walking the streets of Fort Travis, came into the saloon and took a seat at the bar before ordering a drink. The dark figure approached him, and the two set off for the darkness to talk. After watching them talk for a bit, unable to hear anything the man in black said, William stands, finishes his drink, and lays his money on the table before walking out and back into the sunshine.

It took only a few long minutes for William to make his way over to the train station, where the train was just pulling in to stop for a time. by the time he got to the ancient platform people were moving in and out of the machine, making the doctor think of some monstrous blood transfusion. The old blood being the people, some of them flooding out of the train as if from a wound, the new blood moving into the vain that was the train through but one or two entrances. Looking around, he could see a few other people he felt should have notes taken about them. There was a man atop a horse near the tracks, who looked as though he might be the law around this town, and as he makes his way over to a bench to sit and wait, his knee starting to pain him, noticed a woman on the railing, looking as if she crawled out from the gutters, watching everything about the train and the people closely. Obviously, she was looking for something in particular, not that William was worried. Instead, he takes out his silver pocket watch and checks the time as he waits.


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"What in the eternal fires of hell is that?" exclaimed Jackson when he saw a strange machine appear on the horizon.

Jackson knew of machines capable of flight but he had never had to deal with one directly as sheriff, Jackson remembered witnessing the destruction one such machine had delivered during the civil war and had since hated such tech; not for its existence but for the way humanity put the works of great minds to the petty interests of those with wealth and power, this was after all the reason for the current state of affairs all over the world and Jackson could not ignore that. One such machine had raided fort Travis while he was a deputy and Jackson wasn't about to take any chances with this one.

Jackson lost view of the machine to a looming sandstorm but doubted if that would be the end of it, Jackson needed to warn the militia but riding all the way to the fort would take far too long; the only operational communication's device nearby was in the saloon.

Fort Travis had no guard or armed force other then the deputies and the artillery operators; the militia assembled to counter threats to the town however only a few people could be mobilized at a moment's notice. Jackson would have to find at least a few men to deal with this problem until the militia mobilized.

Quickly turning and riding towards the station Jackson proceeded to quickly tie his horse upon arrival a few minutes later, jumping off the saddle Jackson made his way to the security office of the station; at least two deputies attended the station at all times and Jackson wanted at least one watching his back.

Jackson cursed, the communications of the station where out of service and now when he actually needed fast accesses communication he simply didn't have it. As he entered the office he saw only deputy Eric attending the post.

"Eric why are you the only deputy here?" asked Jackson angered by the breach of protocol and security; who would man the post if a problem such as this presented itself? Jackson could not simply leave the station unattended."

Eric quickly stood up at attention; this wasn't a military but Fort Travis had a long military heritage dating back as far as the old US army. Eric was young man barley of age and only recently named deputy, normally Jackson would not appoint such a young man but as his father was killed while on duty Jackson had no choice but to recruit him; Jackson had promised to look after the families of all his men if they were killed and the only way he know how to directly keep an eye on orphans who had no family left like Eric was to appoint them if they wanted the job. It was also a long standing tradition of those whose ancestors manned original garrison of Fort Travis to become deputies for at least a few years.

Eric stumbled with his words before saying nervously

"Sir… err Martin left a few hours ago to the Saloon, said he had to take care of something but he hasn't returned since and I could not inform you without leaving my post… sorry sir"

Jackson patted Martin on the shoulder he was a good lad and would soon grow out of his inner self doubts, Jackson hoped he would be as competent an officer as his father was and the boy certainly did not deserve his anger, Martin the gambling idiot did however.

"Its all right son, it's not your fault. You stay here and man the post while I will look for Martin, there is a strange flying machine around our turf so put in effect all the emergency security regulations; I will send you some men from the militia as soon as I can."

Jackson ran out of the office and into the near by Saloon, Martin was a solid fighter but a incompetent deputy; he had no respect for the rules and buggered off to drink and gamble whenever he could, if not for his steady aim while on the saddle Jackson would have kicked him out of the deputy office long ago.

Jackson quickly found Martin utterly drunk near the door, cursing Jackson made his way to the back office of the Saloon. Reaching for the communicator Jackson made a call to the deputy barracks and the mayor's office asking them to ready the defenses for a possible raid. Jackson then proceeded to the center of the Saloon were he tried to speak, failing that Jackson pulled out his pistol and fired a shot in the air to attract the attention of the many people who populated the Saloon.

"Attention to you all, as of this moment the town is under emergency protocol by my authority as Sherriff, no one is to leave this establishment unless he has a militia service pass. Go back to your drinks and stay put while I and the deputies deal with the problem"

Jackson did not mention the directive stating all outsiders had to hand over their guns for safe keeping while the emergency was going on as he did not have the force to back that order up yet, he would have to wait for the deputies for that. There was a very good reason for keeping outsiders in the Saloon; it was not unknown for robbers made their way out of the Saloon to cause trouble while their palls attacked from the outside.

Jackson walked to the bar and placed on it a number of dollars, all silver as paper dollars were worthless out in these lands unless you exchanged it with one of em city accountants that had places for exchange like one in Fort Travis. Jackson apologized to Joe the Saloon owner for the mess and went to the side in order to get Martin on his feet.