Shining Dawn

[Overcast]

San Francisco 1884. Mid June and the sun is burning high in the sky making damn sure you know it is around. The city is filled with problems in need of heroes to solve, corruption plagues the government, crime creeps through the streets, a cholera epidemic started up recently, but you aren’t here for none of that. Heroism is best left to the officials assigned to it, or the locals who give half a damn about this place. You, you’re here for a job opportunity. A messenger found you a few weeks back (for some this might have been an easy task, for others an adventure in itself) and handed to you a small card addressed to you, if not quite to any address in particular other than your person. He seemed in quite a hurry to run off but you probably didn’t need someone to read it off for you anyway,

“Salutations.

You may find yourself wondering why, wherever you may be, that you have been approached by my reliable messengers. I am Mr. Howard Watts and I represent a few notable powers to the East who have staked a certain interest in Western investments. As of recently an incident has occurred with a particular investment and I am in great need of those who might be able aid me in rectifying this problem. I assure you that the job will pay quite well, after all with your talents it can be assumed I am paying for quality. You may find me in San Francisco at the date and times on the back of this card. If you have interest in being a part of this please to try to arrive by that time, my messengers worked quite hard making sure they got this to you soon enough for you to comfortably think it over.

Sincerely,

Howard D. Watts

PS: Please do keep this to yourself, one of the expectations in dealing with the incident is secrecy, inability to follow may cost you more than you realize.”

The price had remained ambiguous, but it was promising. The dedication of the messenger, the background of Mr. Watts and particularly the light threat at the end said that there might really be something to be gained. Either way you were here now, sitting in wait at the offices of Howard Watts as some other prospects gathered, in his office as his assistants alerted him of every arrival he would go over the notes of each hireling carefully, keen to see the response he had gotten and who he might turn away…

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Alrighty welcome to Shining Dawn, the scene above started out as a pitch but as I kept going over it the thing kept turning into an introduction post, finally I just stuck with it because unlike some situations there is really nothing for me to explain when it comes to the setting. As such I feel like this is still startlingly bare, which makes me just as impatient to start getting into the actual story. So have yourself a skeleton to get the ball rolling.


Name: A reputation usually comes with some words to stick it to.
Gender: Most of us were born with one.
Age: How long has your luck been running?
Occupation: What do you do?
Appearance: How do people see you?
Skills: What CAN you do?
Gear: Tools of the trade, among other things.
Personality: Word gets around, but who are you really?
Bio: Our pasts shape us.
Other: A little extra never hurt.

Example:
Name: Howard D. Watts
Gender: Male
Age: 45
Occupation: Investment Representative
Appearance: From head to toe Mr. Watts seems to take the appearance of the unassuming middleman. His bowler cap lies gently on his head hiding the whispy leftovers of his hair ravaged by time and hereditary balding. His dark eyes stare through thin bifocals that tend to hang a bit too far down his nose, a hooked thing that dances just above his thick mustache. His clothing, typically business suits at any time, cling desperately to his somewhat tall gaunt form and are almost always impeccably clean. He seems to emanate a sort of frailty and professionalism at all times that makes him seem none too difficult at the right times. Most notable though is his stare, which seems to maintain itself without blinking for an unreasonable amount of time, almost to the point of being disconcerting.
Skills:

• Accounting: Number crunching is almost a way of life to Mr. Watts, because the most important thing to his investors are simply what they get out of a deal.
• Law: While he may still be miles from places that don't deal with their problems using the local militia he makes his living off of contracts and if anyone has earned his place as a Notary it is Howard.
• Negotiations: Getting a deal is more than just calculating the numbers it is convincing the right people to the right price. With an awkward stare and a long enough time it is difficult to refuse the man anything.
• Logistics: In the end nearly anything that doesn't go to paying him ends up back east, sometimes this takes a bit of planning to get it out there but when all the numbers and connections come together it isn't much of a problem.

Gear: Bifocals, collection of fine suits, eloquent pen with ink well, bowler, pocketwatch, and a box of cigars.
Personality: Mr. Watts is all work and no play, mostly because he likes his work. It is difficult to see him at any time getting away from his work save for sleeping. Eating and smoking a perfectly fine things to do while working. Of note though is his perfectionism, it is difficult for him to accept when he has done any sort of wrong and he will go very far out of his way to make sure that his reputation is sterling and is one of the easiest ways to make him lose his cool.
Bio: Might keep this blank for now...
Other: This too.

[Lumenskir]

Started writing up my guy and then thought it couldn't hurt to ask. Basic story is that he's an Indian loner, probably the meat shield/brute of the group. Skeleton of a profile below, but if his race or anything precludes him from making sense in the RP, tell me before I invest too heavily in him.

Name: "Chief" Firing Line
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Occupation: Outdoorsman
Appearance: Tall, Indian, muscular.
Skills: Take more punishment than nearly anyone else without quitting.
Gear: Tools of the trade, among other things.
Personality: Gruff, distant, but loyal.
Bio: Raised with his own people, captured during battle with the U.S., sentenced to death by firing squad but managed to live through the punishment. Now hangs on outskirts of society to avoid the possibility that his survival was a fluke occurence.

[Overcast]

He is going to make sense, but he will also have prejudices. Add together the bad past between the natives and the colonials, the still active Indian Wars, the physically imposing appearance of the man and a few stares and suspicions will almost always be following him around.

Of course this doesn't mean he can't have a name for himself, as long as he has found some reputation that branches just a bit further than his miraculous survival of a firing squad he could catch the eye of Mr. Watts enough for him to get contact.

[krogothwolf]

Name: Long Gun Sam

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Occupation: Tracker

Appearance: Slim but fit, 5'10, black hair, green eyes and a stubble. Wears a black Cowboy hat along with black shirt and pants.

Skills:

Tracking: Sam can find almost anything. He can spot trails and follow them easily. He can tell things like how many people went through an area, how long ago and what types of animals they have with them.
Sharp Eye: Sam has an eye sharper then most people. He can spot little details easily. He can see farther then most people can.
Scout: Sam is at home in the wilds, he can blend in with such a degree that you wouldn't even have known he was there. He is silent and nearly impossible to spot if he so desires while in the wild, he also has an uncanny ability to tell which way he is facing. Though he is at a lost in city areas.
Wild Knowledge: Sam has uncanny knowledge of things outside the populated areas, he can recognize trees, flowers, animals. Though he is lost in city type areas.

Gear:

Rope: Just a rope he uses to tie up game.
Springfield Model 1871 Remington Rolling Block: The rifle his father gave him on his 15th Birthday, cherished possession
Schofield revolver: Claimed off of the first man he helped catch.
large hunting knife: Lovely knife to poke people with.

Personality: Honest, loyal, talkative.
Bio: Sam grew up in the frontier; his father was a skilled tracker out there and had taught him the skills. He began his training fairly young, not serious training, but enough to give him a heads up, as he got older his training became more serious and strenuous. His skills grew each day as he followed his father around learning the trade.

At 15, it was the first time he joined his father on one of his more serious missions, helping local law enforcement track down a killer. Sam was at a marvel at how his father moved in the under bushes and found the guy with no real clear sign of were he had went. He redoubled his training at that point, vowing one day to surpass his father.

When he turned 18, tragedy struck his family. His father and mother died in a freak storm that hit the region, leaving Sam alone. He did continue learning and practicing, while taking jobs to track and hunt game as well as run away criminals and the such, but his abilities never came on par with his father. He kept living in old family home on the edge of thick woods to use as a place for those seeking his skills to come, but is usually not there as he is out in the wilds trying to surpass his father.

Other: Sam isn't used to working around people, he starts rambling sometimes when around people, talking for the sake of talking, and also gets fidgety at times. Nervous in a city as he rarely enters them.

Edit: Fleshed out the skills a bit as well as bio and age.

[Bard The 5th LW]

Name: Max Cayton. Working on Nickname.

Gender: Male

Age: 23

Occupation: Bounty Hunter and general gun for hire.

Appearance: Sandy hair, green eyes, 5'4, white shirt, brown vest, black pants. Brown neckerchief.

Skills:

• Acrobatics: He ain't a professional gymnast, but he has some skills. Very agile and very fast.
  
• Stealth: He's the last person who'll admit it, but he is very unimposing. He doesn't like it, but this strongly helps him remain unnoticed. He can vanish in a crowd easily, or just hide out very well using hiding places at hand.
  
• Riding: Don't ask him where he picked it up, but Max is a very skilled Horseback rider. He can also shoot on horseback without losing much accuracy.
  
• Memory: Max doesn't forget details about a person. If he hears your voice, hears your name, or sees your face, he won't forget it for a long time.
  

Gear:

• Switchblade: Not really called a switchblade at the time, but its an automatic knife, and very concealable.
  
• Revolver-Colt: There comes a certain point, the sort of rising action, where Max generally stops caring about being quiet. When it's time to throw subtlety out the window and shoot it in the face, Max always has his six shooter.
  
• Hand Cuffs: There is an interesting story about how Max got a hold of this nifty device. Maybe if he ask him, he'll tell you. Anyways, he uses these to apprehend people and he likes to keep his key close at hand.
  
• Money bag: Max doesn't trust banks or bankers. At all. He keeps just about all of his money with him. All the time.

Personality: Reserved and opportunistic. He LOVES money and is very stingy and even a bit greedy.

Bio: He was said to have come from someplace in the Northeast. Despite his supposed origins, he gets along incredibly well in the West. As soon as he showed up, he made a name for himself by tracking down people on wanted posters and bringing them to justice. He would also take just about any job given to him. He would deliver messages, help in intimidation, or collect information. As long as the pay is good, he'll take the case

Hope there aren't any glaring inaccuracies here. I like history, but never learned much about the West at this time. If anything seems really out of place or wrong, please inform me and I'll change it.

[Lumenskir]

Name: "Chief" Firing Line
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Occupation: Professional Fighter/Gunslinger/Hired Muscle
Appearance: Tall, heavily built, dark skin, dirty clothes, dull scar on his forehead and numerous battle scars on his chest and back.
Skills: Damage Resistant - Chief can take heavy beatings and keep on trucking with little to no momentum lost. He's the guy in action movies who laughs when you punch him, keeps fighting with a knife sticking out of him, or continues coming after you shoot him anywhere but the head.
Bruiser - Which isn't to say that he'll stop at laughing.
First Aid - While not a qualified internist by any means, Chief spent years around nuns who could qualify as combat medics, not mention the practice from just healing his own wounds after battle.
Gear: A six-shooter and knife
Personality: Near nihilistic and withdrawn around strangers, but fiercely dedicated to whatever task he sets himself to.
Bio: Twenty years ago, an American militia descended upon an innocent encampment of Indians, maiming and slaughtering a group mostly comprised of women and children. "Chief" was an eight year old at the time, and lived beyond what would later become known as the Sand Creek Massacre by virtue of either dumb luck (his interpretation) or something more divine (the nuns who later nursed him back to health); a ricochet bullet struck him in the forehead, rendering him unconscious and dead-looking enough to escape further desecration.

When he awoke next he was being tended to by a nun. He would spend the next few years being taught English and being the first participant in what would slowly grow to be an orphanage and school for Indian youths. His sudden departure would forever confuse the nuns, although they hadn't been present for the conversation Chief had with a passing historian who explained that the Massacre's main cause could be linked back to an Indian betrayal.

In his effort to leave as much of his life behind, Chief traveled all of the way California. Once land gave way to coast he began to drift between towns, never settling into anything permanent, merely throwing himself into whatever local fighting rings or quick draw tournaments he could, and maybe going along with whatever local gang needed to beef up their numbers for a job. Along the way his, as he still thinks of it, dumb luck still proves to be his best asset. Many of his fist fights are won as much by his ability to absorb all of his opponents blows as his skill at delivering roundhouses, and he has collected wins from quick draw shootouts not by being the fastest, but by being the one with the bullets in him who could still stand.

Whether he revels in finding chances to display his intrinsic indomitableness or is instead attempting to find the one opportunity that will finally overcome it is left to the observer's opinion.
Other: Although most people simply call him Chief, his practice of taking off his shirt during fights to display the many bullet holes he has survived has led to rumors that he acquired them all at once during an attempted execution, and thus to his full nickname. The nuns attempted to get him to accept an Anglo name but it doesn't seem to have stuck, and even though he left without warning or goodbye he still manages to send his excess winning back to the orphanage.


Bit of a reworking, but still sticking with the basic concept.

[Overcast]

Hand cuffs aren't exactly new in 1884, manacles had been around for quite a while and the ratchet style we are so used to had been around for about twenty years.

Other than that it looks good, I'm looking forward to him looking jealously onto that much larger native thinking up racial epithets.

On the chief it is looking interesting enough, big bruiser worth his weight in a fight. For any odd reason or another this kind of person comes in handy eventually, I'm welcome to have him be difficult to stop and lucky in his reputation with bullets but I will admit I'm planning to be just a smidge merciless when it comes to wounds so even if he wins a battle he may just lose a war if he isn't careful.

Just a fair warning.

[Krylo]

Name: Jim Narstrom
Gender: Of the masculine proclivity.
Age: 30
Occupation: Shootin' Folks.
Appearance: A bit sun aged, and a bit rough around the edges maybe. Don't always shave when he oughta and he's usually got a bit o' stubble as a result. Few scars too, but he ain't a big man. Ain't small neither.
Skills: Shootin' Folks. Or to be a bit more explanatory:

• Dueling--There are times when a man needs to face down another man, look him in the eye, and then shoot it. Doin' so before he does it to you first requires a very quick and steady hand. Jim's got both.
• Dead eye--He can shoot the bridle out of the mouth of a runnin' horse at distance with a revolver without breaking its teeth. Well, many of its teeth.
• Rough and Tumble--Sometimes when all hell breaks loose you ain't got a gun to use, and sometimes you don't wanna risk killing someone with a bullet. During these times it takes a quick mind, a strong arm, and a good left hook to come through. Or a well placed kick to the manhood. Or the clarity of mind and lack of honor to use that there bar stool as a bat... or to bite man's finger off. Jim ain't above any o' that.
• Fast Shootin'--Sometimes there's six men against you. Sometimes you just hate someone so much you wanna shoot him six times. Most times the hammer of the pistol ain't quite quick enough for this. That is unless you've got the skill and the know how to pull it back manually just enough to give it the oomph to fire without locking it back. And do it fast. Jim can.
• Bondage--Well, when a bounty pays twice as much alive, its usually best to tie them up before you bring them in.

Gear:

• Six Shooter--A rather new colt single action army chambered 44-40. A real killing machine.
• Lever Action Rifle--A good ole .44 Rifmfire Henry. His dad used it in the civil war before he died. It's a keepsake. And a deadly one.
• Shotgun--Nothing works better in close quarters than a nice 1878 double barrel hammer shotgun. Sawed off, of course, for easier maneuvering in buildings.
• Duster--You can't be a proper bounty hunter without one. And one of them thar fancy hats.
• Various Supplies--Some rope for tying folks up, climbing things, and general utility, a buck knife, some rations, and some basic camp supplies.

Personality: Jim always gives people two options. The easy way or the hard way. It's an unfortunate fact of life that most folks are too obstinate to take the easy way and end up pretty hurt at that. Though the fact he gives them an option at all, shows that he's not quite so gruff and rough as his exterior personality would seem to imply.

Bio: His dad died as a union soldier when he was seven, his mother didn't exactly make it so well without him and ended up with a monster of a man who ended up killing her when Jim was 12. Unfortunate for his step-dad then that Jim knew how to use his father's old Henry Rifle and put a bullet in the man's head. After that Jim fell in with some outlaws, killed folks, learned to shoot, etc.

Dead dad and abusive step father aside, though, Jim never quite agreed with his new family, and once he he was old enough to make it on his own--about 16--he cut out of there. With no marketable skills other than killing people, however, he quickly fell into bounty hunting and selling his gun to the highest bidder. There are a few rumors of unscrupulous bidders being on the wrong side of his gun if he didn't like a job, or his payment wasn't forthcoming, however.

Other: Jim can be a bit... vindictive when he doesn't like what someone's been doing. One report, for instance, claims that he walked in on a man beating a whore and shot that man six times in the space of mere seconds. Once in each knee, once in each elbow, and twice directly in his manhood... before calling a doctor. When asked he responded that he would have only shot him the five times, but he felt there wasn't any point leaving just one bullet in his revolver.

[Overcast]

Before I get ahead of myself the Chief is approved, Shootin Jim is approved, Money Max is approved, letting krogoth work on his bio and age but Sammy boy seems alright.

Kro I was planning on suggesting a Henry but since Krylo gave Jim one you can also take good hold of a Spencer or one of the many Springfield models. Ain't nothing more stylish than a breech-loaded rifle. Not that I'm not expecting everyone to be wielding a colt when it comes to revolvers, but there was a bit more competition when it came to rifles back then.

[Krylo]

Originally Posted by Overcast

Kro I was planning on suggesting a Henry but since Krylo gave Jim one you can also take good hold of a Spencer or one of the many Springfield models. Ain't nothing more stylish than a breech-loaded rifle. Not that I'm not expecting everyone to be wielding a colt when it comes to revolvers, but there was a bit more competition when it came to rifles back then.

I'd suggest a Springfield Model 1871 Remington Rolling Block .50-70 caliber rifle. Personally.