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James Doolin

Leader of an outlaw group known as "The Posse"

0 · 274 views · located in Earth

a character in “Weird West”, as played by dig17



Kansas' Revenge


August 21

Has a small farmstead somewhere in southern Kansas

Abilene, Kansas

To his gang

Neo-Southern Protestant

During the Great Kansas Bloodletting, he was promoted to the rank of 1st Sergeant of the Abilene Mounted Rangers

Professional criminal

Playing an old guitar, built by his uncle Mordechai of the Nation of Texas



Has rugged cussedness forged from the big brush wars of Kansas after the collapse, and is able to keep calm in high-intensity situations. James is a practiced gunslinger and can draw and put two rounds in a man before he can say "peppercorn".

He is unfamiliar with the laws and local ordinances of faraway places that he may decide to indulge in robbing, and thusly unfamiliar with their response times or possible preparedness to repel The Posse. He also has a soft spot in his heart for pretty ladies.


177 lbs.

Stocked, though possibly malnourished



Crispy white


Four holes the diameter of a .38 caliber ball in his back, and 17 pellet-sized holes in his thigh

"My Duty Has Begun"
This statement, the motto of the Abilene Rangers, is branded near the pellet scars on his thigh, his first battle wound.

He is a man growing a beard with a fine hat on his head and tough, crusty clothes on his back. He has a fair set of teeth and boots, and a strong, upright composure that never slacks, slumps, or tires. He maintains a level of constant meditation and hardnosed reflection, an introspective man who, one can tell, wants to see something good happen.

Slight limp in left leg

His firearms

His hat, made for him as a birthday present by his cousin from Missouri

The thrill of a big crime
A big haul following a crime
Exotic food

Mean-spirited folk
Eastern Yankees
Warm alcohol
Changing plans

Raise a ruckus and deny the Yankee government money in the frontier, then maybe see about finding a pretty girl to make a house with

Losing the hearts and minds of his people


Fisticuffs, farming corn

Doing well by the Lord

To do good to others, do well in his actions, and to always know the difference

He is smart, experienced, and maintains cool and grace under pressure.

Willing to do whatever is necessary in the course of 'war', even the unnecessary

He keeps his family related by blood close to his heart, and his family related by gun like his gunpowder: always at his side and out of the rain.

Extended family throughout the frontier, including aunts, uncles, cousins, great-relatives, and various in-laws in Missouri, Texas, the Indian Nation, Nebraska, and the Kingdom of Colorado. His main family is still located in various parts of Kansas.

None that he is aware of

Keeping The Posse and himself alive without letting up on their raids or running out of food.


Type: One Sanford Magnum, usually fitted with a snub-nosed barrel and checkered wood grips, and one Redlake-Abilene Special with a 4-inch barrel and black, plastic grips.
Function: Stopping power for various hold-ups that turn awry
Item Value: Probably uncommon

James grew up in rural Kansas after the Collapse, and helped defend his home from encroaching fighters of the Kingdom of Colorado and foreign colonialists from California. The brush war there, now known as the Great Kansas Bloodletting, burned down great swaths of farmland and took the lives of thousands on both sides, including colonial pioneers attempting to settle there. In an effort to continue the war effort, James has assembled a gang, now known as "The Posse", to raid supply and financial resources wherever they may be.

So begins...

James Doolin's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: William Silvaro Character Portrait: Leos Kroh Character Portrait: James Doolin Character Portrait: Valora Bowing
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#, as written by dig17
James Doolin had been watching the train ever since it pulled in. The antiqued machine needed to be lubricated at multiple stops on its way to the other side of the Mississippi; it was the process of a time before them, like an echo reappearing long after one has spoken. Indeed, James had always enjoyed seeing trains; they were the most complicated and interesting amalgamations of steel and fire that had ever graced his little farming community of Abilene, Kansas. Their whistles could be heard from over the largest hill he'd seen until he was 16, from what seemed like miles away; as soon as it was confirmed, he'd race to meet it with his brothers and sisters, waving the conductor on as the shipment of coal or food or people passed away from them like a dream at dawn. Those were the good days, filled with simple sunsets and pretty neighbor girls. As Leos' voice buzzed in his ear, he decided that it was all worth the work he was doing so far away from home.

"Ganger to tha Ghost, we's got a straight. Be ready to cash, please."

The plan was simple enough. The real question was if it would go right. He hadn't tried anything like they were about to, but after riding with the Kansas Rangers during the Bloodletting, he hadn't done much of anything more than twice. It was the lifestyle, the idea of adaptation inside the frame of their capabilities, which was more than they'd figure a lot of the time. Either way, it was time to sing old Willy and Val their cues; he had taken to singing old folk songs learned on the trail in Kansas as a way of confirming to his 'Posse' that he saw elements of their heists ready to be executed.

"Ah been with Sally, ah been with Sue, ah been with Cindy and 'er sister, too." He huffed up a breath. "Now ahm tryna settle down, start a family with that cute lil Kim," James paused a moment to take note of the plume of smoke coming up from the great steam engine on the train, hissing with energy. "But now that ah tasted blood, now this wine tastes too thin."

He realized most of the townsfolk seemed ugly. Really ugly. Royal Territory Of California ugly. These weren't farmers, surely; these were folk who made their living in the fort. Self-sustenance inside 'civilized' areas always resulted in the worst mish-mash of genetic code that could be combined. A blender of the bullshit; only the weakest members of the species lived in towns like this. James bent his head down to spit in the dirt, more out of contempt than necessity. One out of every five women who passed him were even worth glancing back at; out in the farmland, a farmboy NEVER gave the neighbor girls less than two looks. Maybe it was the water that made them so pretty; he had to admit, the water source of Fort Travis Junction seemed tepid, likely infected with some ungodly parasite. Perhaps this was God's own way of telling James that this state was cursed and needed to be robbed of their treasures, such as the one on the train he had caught wind about. Either way, all he kept thinking about was the sweetness of little Jolene Hutchinson.

"Ah got a needle, don' be alarmed, it shoots streams o' lovely things into my arm. Well ah'd sell my own mother for that sweet heroin." He tipped his hat to an older woman who looked back at him, somewhat disgusted or horrified at the lyrics. "Oh, now that I've tasted blood, now this wine seems too thin."

He began strolling toward the saloon. Maybe they didn't call it a saloon, or it wasn't titled the saloon, but Goddammit, it was a saloon. They served beer and pussy, and where he came from, that was called a saloon. Regardless, he didn't see much of a fighting presence there; no military or peacekeepers in uniform, for sure. If there were, they'd be served copper-coated candy if they decided to put up a fight once the gang rose into action.

"Sometimes the white coats, they hide black hearts, we learna to sugar coat the same black guards." The last part of this stanza was one of his favorites, surely one lyric he'd take to his grave; the Kansas Mounted Rangers sang the song often, and they'd get the loudest when the last stanza came about. "Well, ah turn lead into gold, ah'll cure original sin. Oh, now that ah tasted blood, now this wine seems too thin."

He stopped and looked out. He hadn't seen Willy or Val anywhere. Maybe he wasn't looking hard enough; maybe he didn't WANT to see them. At the very least, he didn't want to give their position away by constantly eyeing them as they moved, so he stood in place, leaning against one of the posts outside the saloon doors, staying out of the way as he reached into his coat and found a ratty cigar, which promptly went between his lips as he lit up a large flame from several matches at one time. He puffed the smoke out, enjoying the flavor as he took one last look around before breaking radio silence; nobody was talking. If they didn't acknowledge him, he'd have to improvise, and that would be too much fun.

"Willy, how's the rest of the song go, ah?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: William Silvaro Character Portrait: Leos Kroh Character Portrait: James Doolin Character Portrait: Valora Bowing
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

"Ganger to tha Ghost, we's got a straight. Be ready to cash, please."

The commlink buzzed to life, something that had felt like an eternity and it was exactly the thing that Leos was waiting for. He reached overhead in the cockpit, flipping a couple switches here, turning a couple dials there, then punched a small red button labeled Ignition.

As he pushed it in, the external fans built into the wings started spinning, generating enough lift to push the craft from the ground it was perched. The Insurgence was alive...

"This is Ghost. Little blue bird is in the air, I repeat, blue bird is in the air."

Finishing those words, with his left hand, Leos set his little radio on loop, playing his little "pump music".

The blue metal beast roared to life, its nose shifting into a climb, quickly hovering away from its perch. It thrusted forwards, maintaining altitude as well as gaining speed, its nose now slightly leaning towards the ground. Leo check his altometer...

10 meters and rising...

15 meters and rising...

He looked out through the cockpit's windshield, pulling back on the throttles. People outside didn't know if this guy had a deathwish, appearing as if he wasn't going to make it over the station.

25 meters and rising... And Leo had made it over the station's topmost exterior paneling. Veering off away from the town's fortifications, the Insurgence appeared to be heading straight into a dust storm.

"Ghost to gang, my little birdie goes tweet tweet tweet..."