Wild West Anyone?

[scorpfemale]

The ivories tickled lively, as John Sands played a quick-step tune on the piano. The Full-Moon Saloon was enjoying a rush of patrons, due to the discovery of new gold on the outskirts of town. More than a mining camp, this place had weathered boom expansion, with a church, a school, mercantile, and several other reputable establishments. On the south end of town, now stood an entire row of bars, brothels, and gambling halls. This district was becoming a popular area of town, except with the overly religious, who felt compelled to salvage the wayward sinners that roamed these roads and alleyways.

The Full Moon Saloon laid claim to a prized corner lot of town. Next door on the Main Street was the Arcadia hotel. A fine establishment in the front, with rear rooms currently being rented for the female entertainment staff of the Full Moon. With only five upper rooms at the saloon, and business branching, plans to purchase the Arcadia and expand were always rolling through the mind of the Full Moon's owner, Maggie O'Shear.

As a local woman of various flesh trades, Maggie moved further West to claim her stake, not in gold, but in something longer lasting--business ventures. And in this land, women's roles were not as clear as back East, for every able body was needed to provide for success, be it a man and his wife, or a gambler and his flavor of the week. All was necessary for survival of the body, as well as the spirit.

OOC: A lot of potential for this booming town. All are welcome to join--saloon girls, gamblers, gun slingers, law men, clergy, teachers. . .although Maggie has her eyes on a certain Native American man who's been coming in for years off and on to play cards. He never takes a whore, only to drink and play cards. He effects her like no other man she has known, making her less brazen and uncertain of what to say to him, how to approach him. . .rather civilized, but still native.

This story will eventually have a plot line of sorts, but all are free to create and contribute what they wish to the story, making sub plots very flexible. I want to see who all joins before I create a definite story line or two for the group.

 

[Starsailor2804]

Stephen Yeagal had picked up everything he had, what little it was, and like many of the new Americans travelled west seeking riches and for most a new life. At twenty-three now he had seen much, done odd jobs here and there, and although greatly unknown by most, those who knew him knew he was a good shot. His shot, both with his Peacemaker pistol and bolt action rifle were as precise and as skilled as one his age could be. How he had come about such fine pieces only he knew for the two men he had gotten it from were long dead with his bullets lodged in their bodies.

But, he was no murderer, however he was no saint either. He was just a man trying to survive in uncertain times. He had worked with possees tracking criminals and raiding savages, he had done more than one cattle drive going west, and had provided guard service for some caravans. Now, he wanted something more permanent, something in that he could start a family, and something that would provide everything he would need in life.

Coming upon a the top of a hill, Stephen looked down upon the town where his next stop was. Raising his hat to get a better view the man's dark blue eyes looked about the town. It seemed to be a normal western town, nothing more, but appeared to be lawful at least. Tapping the side of his horse with his boot he commanded his steed forwards. The nearly six foot tall young man held loosely on the reins, his strong farm strengthened arms flexing with each bounce, and his full out cowboy appearance was obvious.

The handsome young man from Pennsylvania, with his German heritage and tan skin, was an oddity among those from the west where Germans weren't among the majority. Finally, as he rode into town, the sun had recenty set and lamplight lit the streets, he headed for the place most newcomers visited first, the saloon.

OOC: I'll post an entrance to the saloon once more people come or I have the opportunity to do so

 

[scorpfemale]

OOC: Yea! We have a taker. Welcome to you and your character.

Now. . .who else?

 

[JokerWild]

Bear made his way through the empty alley, standing at 6'4, 225 lbs of muscle he is very intimdating at first glance, but if anyone would take the time to get the know the half Native American/African American they would kick themselves for thinking he have any kind of intent to harm others. Bear was his Indian name, his american name was Brian. He owned one ranch, he bred horses, and made a name for himself in the town. His black hair fell to his shoulders, he was light-skinned and had hazel eyes, several scars ran across his bare-back, he only wore a pendant that had the head of a bear, he wore black boots and pants.

One pistol hung on his side, and several daggers could be seen handing on the belt he wore, he hated using guns but he was as masterful in the technique of shooting as he was as throwing knives. As he neared the Saloon he smiled, he hadn't been there in several months now, his ranch kept him isolated unless someone ventured to his neck of the woods to purchase a horse. He could hear the sound of a woman slapping a drunken man, he laughed to himself as he walked onto the front porch of the saloon and made his way in...

 

[little_golden]

Molly McTeer (Irish Beauty)

Molly McTeer had traveled from New York city to meet the man of her dreams out west. He had promised her a new life, a big farm, plenty of animals and the prettiest house around. The wagon master had promised to take her and her wagon all the way through Indian country to bring her to her man. He was a rough looking man, with a chiseled face, dark hair, and mustache.

Three months later, Molly was working hard to survive in the town's saloon. She recalled with disappointment that it was two weeks into the trip that she learned the man of her dreams - Sean O'Donelly had been killed in a gunfight. The story had been that a number of men had been drinking and playing cards. Someone called someone else a cheater and seconds later - there was a thunder of guns and her man and another player were dead.

It was the wagon master who had encouraged her to stay on the trip. Molly was ready to give up and head back to her family in New York City. He spoke real sweet to her and was extra helpful with her wagon and her big horses. She didn't know anything about the west - but know she could drive a wagon and take care of her horses. The wagon master was a shoulder she could cry on.

After the wagon train was bushwhacked by injuns, most of Molly's precious eastern goods were destroyed. The damn injuns had burnt out her wagon and killed her horses. Her fine eastern dresses, linen and cookware were all destroyed. With only the clothes on her back and a few silver dollars left from the trip she had made it to the mining camp/town. Her fiancé had been gunned down in this rough ramshackle town. She wanted to hear more of what happened and then try to piece her life together.

It took less than two days for her to exhaust her small supply of silver dollars. For a few days after that, the wagon master himself was her provider, but she quickly learned what he wanted. At 5'6 with long brown hair, medium sized breasts, and a slender body Molly was attractive and soft spoken with a light Irish accent. After sharing some whiskey with her on the first night, the wagon master had raped her in their hotel room. It was a coming of age for Molly as she now realized how helpless and desperate was her situation. She let him use her body for a few more days until he slipped away. It had been simple economics - until he had to move on.

Alone, broke and hungry, she made her way to the saloon, and into the eager hands of the brothel owner.......

 

[sharingfantasies]

Pruedence Ballard

The sun was setting as Prudence leaned against the frame of the doorway, she watched people come and go from the saloon and hotel across the street. She lifted her hand to brush the brown strands of hair coming loose from her braid. Her hand left a streak of black across her tan face.

A stanger riding by might have thought the Prue was a man, standing 5'8, her long legs encased in faded jeans, her feet in old leather boots. But once his eyes rose from her pants to her shirt, there was no denying that Prue was a female. And should that stranger get his eyes off her plaid cotton shirt to her delicate features and green eyes, he would see the the intelligence for which she was known.

If that stranger lifted his eyes further he would have seen the sign under which she leaned "Ballard's Printing". Prue had married Thomas Ballard, printer and newspaper man in Fox Lake, Illinois. Although he had been in his thirties and she only 18, the marriage had been good. When Thomas had died of pneuomnia after one year of marriage, she had tried to run the business herself, but Fox Lake was a townful of churchgoing biddies and putting a woman-owned business out of business was the ladies' biggest challenge. They might not have succeeded if the menfolk hadn't felt threatened by Prue. After months of trying to hold it together, despite the dwindling advertisers and supporters, Prue had seen a small article in the Saint Louis Herald about a small gold strike in Arcadia. Recognizing a need for the printing of deeds, a newspaper and other articles, Prudence had purchased a large wagon drawn by draft horses, packed the printing press and materials, thrown in a few household and personal items and headed west. She had also packed up Jonas Bixby. Jonas was older than dirt, but he could lay a line of print faster than anyone she had ever seen, including Thomas. When she told him she was pulling up stakes and moving on, he had insisted on coming along.

When she had arrived five years ago, there had been only a small shanty town just going up to cater to the miners that were finding gold. Now, at the age of 25, Prue had seen the shanties grow into a town of wood plank buildings that housed besides the hotel and saloon, a mercantile, dress and hat shop, small cafe, gun shop, a bank, and the Well's Fargo office. Prue had become more and more nervous as more settlers moved into the area, fearing that she would have to move on again. But the newcomers, after raising an eyebrow at her male attire, had shrugged their shoulders and left her to be. She was now earning enough money from various printing jobs and the newspaper to afford to build a small house for herself not far from the main street of town. She had been living in the backroom of the printing shop all this time, while Jonas had slept in the big wagon. They had sold the horses to the mining company when they first arrived, but Jonas had refused to sell the wagon, fixing it up so that his place was much nicer than her small room.

Prue smiled as she heard the sound of hammers in the distance. Her house was supposed to be ready by the end of the week. She stood upright, planning to get back to work on the Mercantile's advertisement sheet for the month, when she saw Bear making his way to the Saloon. She hadn't seen him in town for months and wondered whether it was human company that had brought him to town or the company of one specific human. Her eyes lit up with amusement as she lifted a hand and waved to him. He tilted his head in acknowledgement of her wave. He was one fine specimen of a man and had Maggie O'Shear not had her eye on him for quite awhile, Prue might have developed an interest in him.

Despite the overwhelming number of men in Arcadia, Bear was the only man she had ever seen that even perked her interest, and she had brushed that off as soon as she had seen the look in Maggie's eyes. While the biddies of Fox Lake might have scorned the two businesswomen, here in Arcadia, they were members of Arcadia's Business Association and, more importantly, they were close friends.

Just as she turned to go in, another movement caught her eye. She raised her eyebrow as she watched another man head for the saloon. A stranger in town. Her nose twitched, she smelled a new story for the newspaper. But, closing the door behind her, the monthly ads for the Mercantile came first.

 

[JokerWild]

Bear stopped before entering the saloon, a beautiful woman had caught his eye, at first glance to any other guy she would have probably looked like a male, she dressed like one but if you got a second look at her you would see that she was all woman. Prue was probably the only woman that Bear could see himself settling down with but he knew that Maggie had a thing for him. And he and Prue were close enough to where he knew that she would do nothing to betray their friendship.

Even though Bear couldn't help but think about he and her even if it were for one night. Getting control over the lowerhalf of his body took several minutes as he tried to wipe the image of Prue's beautiful face from his mind. He stepped through the double doors of the saloon, and was greeted with the familar smell of booze, smoke and food. A drunk man stumbled in front of Bear and bumped into him, the man fell on his butt with a thud and grumbled a curse at him, looking up at the burly image of Bear the drunk man quickly sobered up and apologized.

As the drunk man speedwalked out the door Bear couldn't help but smile, it was good to be home. He made his way to the bar sitting down at a empty seat he ordered a glass of gin, a young woman took his order, she gave him a smile and winked at him as she left to get his drink. He didn't drink much but today was special, he was home after a few months. And he was in the mood for anything today...especially for Prue.

Though he was only 23, he had known many of the people that lived in the town or owned businesses here, but with the talk of gold, more and more people were showing up. Not that he was complaining, business was good, the more people that showed up the more horses he sold. The woman showed up carrying a glass of gin, it had no ice but he didn't complain, he liked it warm, it seemed stronger that way. Watching the woman walk away he almost fell out of his chair watching the short skirt she wore rise up showing off her tight tush. "Yep...good to be home." he said as he took a drink of his gin.

 

[poohlive]

Grey opened his eyes, cautiously, like a man testing the waters of consciousness, to see if it was all right to come out and swim. Like most alcoholics, waking up could be the most painful experience, so one tried to do it as carefully as possible.
Too late, as surprising pain dulled around his temples and then came to a sharp point behind his eyes. He groaned, leaning up from bed, trying to get to the bathroom and splash some water on his face.
It was then the place registered through the pain. Jointed images crawled at him, as he realized he wasn't in some hotel, or even a brothel... or even at some back alley of a bar.
No, he was in jail... again.

"Damnit," He gave a sorrowful curse as he reached for a bucket of water at his feet. He took it to his lips, drinking deep, before dumping the rest over his head. It stopped the aching pain for a moment, as he shook himself awake.

He wondered for a moment what he had tried to do this time. The last time Grey had spent nearly a week under the sheriff's hospitality cause he tried to steal a horse... Except, he had entered the wrong fence, and ended up trying to ride off into the sunset on someone's water trough.

Apart from walking bow-legged the next week, he also had a hangover that lasted two days. This one, he felt now, was pretty bad... although not that bad. A few aspirin and he'd be ok... or maybe a nice bottle of whiskey. That would take the edge off.

He leaned against the bars, dripping from his unshaven face and curly black hair, a lean figure that would look almost attractive had he not spent the last five years in a bottle.

This town... this town. Which town was this? He didn't know, didn't remember much, actually. It was a new town, which was good. New towns were more courteious to drunks. Just sober them up and tell them to be on their way. It was the third or fourth time when bad things started happening. That's when you had to raise stakes and move on.

This was a new town for him, Arcadia. A nice town, at least the parts he had seen so far. Although, the parts he had seen so far consisted of a jail cell, still...

"Best vacation I've had in a long time," He laughed good and hard at that, drinking some more water.

 

[TheScarletBlade]

From the golden coast of California to the forest haven of Washington,the west was said to be the last frontier.Americans of all sorts made a massive migration from the east coast to the west coast.One such person was the relieved commander of the American 1st calvary.To be more percise,when one were to say relieved,he was sent into the west because of a greivous fault.

The trip was always hard on everyone who took it yet it was easier for a single battalion of men known as the rough riders,the most brash and dangerous of the 1st calvary division,sent to the west the commander.The Rough Riders did not dress in normal blue and gold of the United States military forces.They wore black clothes with an American flag patch on their left shoulder and a symbol of two swords above a fire on their right arms.All Rough Riders wear a colored feather in their hats,some soldiers getting pretty extravagant,to show who would fight the Rough Riders right where they are.

"Live Free,or Die" The motto of the gun slinger soldiers.Although they are arrogant in the extreme(as a unit,some members are not though) The Rough Riders are known as the undertakers and protectors of the west,being more of an undercover unit,looking like just a group of gunslinger vagabounds yet they are still soldiers of the United States Army.The small group of five have a reputation as saviors and destroyers.

Their new appointed leader,Captain Alexander Sobek was sent out with six of the ten Rough Riders to this new town,it had just become pretty prosperious,attracted to this air of greed and money,all sorts of villiany that needed to be taken out.Lets get one thing stright,Alexander believed in putting out fires,yet to put out fires,fires had to be started and in the west,its all about face so if you start the fire yet come out on top looking like a hero,all's well that ends well?

The town was a sight for sore eyes.Born in the East coast and fighting only Indians in the heavily forested areas like Kentucky and places of that manner,the desert stuck the Captain's eyes.Hit dark black leather hat tipped down to cast an intimidating shadow over his face,giving him an mysterious yet dangerous look.Wearing some dirt covered black pants and nice gray silk shirt and a black vest.

The town was nothing to those of the east the dusty sand streets seemed to be awkward compared to the concrete roads of the east yet he was a Rough Rider now so he had to get used to it.This town was really booming and he knew where to go,down the center street there was a bunch of taverns and saloons which is where a Rough Rider would find a pretty good living,bringing law to lawless,but without the restrictions of the local lawman.All Rough Riders were pardoned by the US Army if they got into any major trouble and always had fundings from the government itself.Like legal vigilantes,the Rough Riders spanned out across the wild west.

This would be Alexander's stop,though the other six would be continuing on until they reached their destinations.Their headquarters was in California where the troop met every month.Veering his white charger off from the pack thundering across the open desert he finally entered the heavy parts of the town.slowing his pace,he looked around at all the people.The sight of a man on a large horse with a large rifle laying horizontal on the back of the man's saddle,two shotguns hanging off each side of the saddle and a couple standard issue pistols in the two front holsters was nothing new.

He passed the Hotel and finally veered his horse onto the center street.Alexander was an average six foot height and weighed very little,he was not buff,ripped out of his mind or broad shouldered.He was lean and had a fair amount of muscle.He had a striking complexion,he was handsome,elegant and no word could explain his peircing look.Where he lacked in physique,he made up for it in charisma.With an air of nobility and command around him,he had a humble yet beautiful trustworthy appearance.He didn't smile though and the melancholy look in his deep blue eyes seemed to hint toward an inner sadness.The insignant of the Rough Riders on his left arm made of gold,it polished and reflecting the rays of the golden sun,he Rough Rider brought his horse to a halt infront of run down sort of building:The Jail house.

The place looked shot to shit and constantly needing repair since the criminals freed their buddies by force everytime they seemed to be apprehanded by the police.Leaving his horse thethered to a post,the soldier pulled a silver pistol with a ivory hilt from the side holster and spun it absent mindedly and slid it into place at his hip.Pulling a shotgun from the side as well,he set it on his shoulder as he strolled in without a care in the world.The sherif wasn't their,which was not a suprise.The sheriff was probably dead in the back farms,dead face down in the mud.

Inside though,there was a couple of shady looking men,armed with handguns on their side with a massive set of keys trying to open a cage that a likewise dressed man was behind the bars.The men with the keys were fumbling with them,trying to find the right one:It was obvious they were not part of the law enforcement unit.Walking smoothly,Alexander tapped -with a gloved hand- the back of one of the men.Stopping what he was doing,he turned around.The man was one ugly son of a bitch with a unkept black beard and dark brown skin,probably a mexican bandit.

"Can I help you sir" The bandit said as his hand went for his gun at his hip,the other man reaching for his as well.Smirking,the Rough Rider tapped the top of the shotgun on his Rough Rider insigna.Taken back by the sight,the bandits began to draw their pistols yet the first man stopped as he found the double barrels of a shotgun pressed to the front of his forehead,the hammers pulled back into place.

Suddenly their was the furious howl of a shotgun roared through the town as the sound of a body hitting the floor turned the passerby's eyes towards the jail house.The sound of struggle came from the jail house and finally the door burst open and a mexican bandit came flying down into the dirt street.Turning and drawing a silver pistol.Appearing in the doorway,the Rough Rider walked out into the sunlight.Shotgun thundering one last time,a massive hole burst open in the chest of the bandit before he could fire.

Arm falling limp,gun falling to the ground,the mexican bandit laid back and died.Walking down the steps,Captain Alexander lifted his hand to block the sun from his eyes,his hat knocked off in the terrible fist fight that had taken place.Comming to stand in a circle,the people looked at the bandit and then looked at Alexander with a mixed look of horror and admiration.Such was the usual look the Rough Riders earned.Sliding his shotgun into place in his saddle,Alexander sighed as he ran a hand through his raven black hair.

Running to the scene,the county sheriff,a sheriff of the entire county,not just locally came walking up to Alexander,in a demanding tone "Who the fuck do you think you are,some slick vigilante? I am going to put you right into jail you son of a bitch,putting the law into your own hands?!"

Smirking Alexander mounted his horse."I am Captain Alexander Sobek,first Calvary division,Rough Rider.You're under my protection now and that of the United States Army,So don't worry Sheriff,just appoint another Sheriff and stay out of my way."

Riding past the Sheriff Alexander made for the hotel he stayed in.It was the finest in the entire city and the army provided for him one of the finest suites.Dismounting,the captain removed his armament of weapons,sliding his pistols in side holsters,slinging the rifle over his shoulder and holding the shotguns in his hand as he entered into the lobby.At first,the receptionist thought he was going to hurt someone,walking in armed to the teeth yet was relieved when Alexander introduced himself and asked for the key to his room.Finally reaching the top floor after climbing a couple sets of stairs,Alexander threw his guns and stuff on the ground and pulled off his boots.Running a hand across his cheek on a small cut that he had recieved when getting nicked in the fight,he only shook his head and sat down on the comfortable bed.

The receptionist was a pretty good looking girl yet the 26 year old captain had no real intrest in women right now.The death of his last female friend still haunted his thoughts and weighed heavily on him as the soldier kicked back and waited.It was around 3:00.The party didn't start til the sun went down.

 

[scorpfemale]

Welcome

OOC: This is looking great. Welcome to our new PC's. Looks like people are getting right into the swing of things.

Still room for more. . .we're an open thread. Who else might have someone they'd like to introduce into our town?

 

[sharingfantasies]

Prue was putting the last sheets of print up on the racks to dry, when Jonas came in the back door. Picking up the coffee pot, he poured a cup, grimacing at the strong taste.

"Well I made the rounds, two strangers in town, Bear is back, there was that shooting at the jail earlier, you were right the guy involved is army. Apparently he is here to stay for awhile. Not sure I like his stance though. You better do some background info on him before you write anything. He seems to have a quick trigger of a temper. Word is the two guys he killed weren't trying to break a friend out, they apparently hid something in the cell when they were there last week on a drunk call. They wanted to get it back, but no one seems to know what it was they left there. That old fool of a drunk Grey was in there doing an overnighter, freaked out when all the shooting began. That is it for the night. I am heading for bed."

"Night Jonas," I called out while thinking over what he had told me.

 

[snapper1313]

Maddie Drake

Saddle weary, she sat watching the town. Her last bounty had brought her a bit of cash. It also gave her a sour taste.

She was on her way home to FlapJack Canyon. Home, but was it really? She now had a place where people knew her and didn't cringe to hear her name. Her brother-in-law turned out to be a good sheriff, filling the slot his brother had been forced to vacate real well.

Forced to vacate... Jack "Coyote" Cade had gone to the Hunting Lands by a no good polecat. His brother Jeff, herself, and several others had brought that one down. Maddie had returned to bounty hunting when she could no longer stand town life.

Flipping her waist length black braid beneath her hat, Injun Maddie clucked to her horse. She needed a drink. Something to wipe away the memories of the past and the images of her last hunt. Her bounty was caught, but the skunk had left terror behind him. The last farmstead that had given him shelter for a night still curdled her thoughts. Yep, she needed a drink.

Dismounting infront of the saloon, she guaged the reaction to her redskin. Seemd they were a mite more accepting in this town. Heading to the bar she plunked a silver piece on the counter. Pushing up the brim of her hat, she smiled sadly at the woman.

"Whatja got to make a person ferget, Barkeep? And how much o' that, will this cover?"

 

[scorpfemale]

Maggie begins a long evening

From her private rooms, Maggie sees Bear approach the saloon. The thought of his dark, muscular body against hers creates fire in her nether regions. Watching secretly from closer to the window now, she notices him looking down the street before progressing into the saloon. And he looks at something with such desire. She'd never seen him look like that before, not even at her finest bottle of whiskey, nor at a growing hill of money in the center of a poker table. What was he looking at? Then her intuition led her to thinking, not what, but WHO? Not even before he could reciprocate the giving of his heart to her, Bear had already left a pain in Maggie's chest more severe than a gun shot wound.

Crossing the room, feeling foolish for ever entertaining the thought of emotions and relationships, she puts the finishing touches on pinning up her hair in spilling blonde curls. Adding a touch more lipstick makes her pouty lips a shade of crimson, as she makes a final adjustment of her heaving breasts inside the corset. "Nothing but a whore. No one wants anything more from you." She reminds her reflection in the mirror, fighting back tears.

Her second-hand man, Johnny Six-Guns, met her in the hallway. Johnny had proven priceless in his assistance with the business, and she paid him handsomely for his hard work. His large stature helped Maggie know when she was occupied with entertaining guests, the saloon would run smoothly until her return. Injured in a knife fight several years prior, Maggie had found Johnny wandering the streets in pity for himself in losing a knife fight with three other attackers. In the process, he had lost sight in his left eye, though the eye remained intact and looked functional. Still, with the sight gone in one eye, gunslinging and fighting was no place for a man in this town, no matter how big he is. A giant scar ran down the side of his face, past his eye, reminding him of younger days.

"Evenin' Ma'am. Filling up with reg'lars tonight, 'cept a couple new faces." He noticed a calloused way about Maggie's walk this evening. Normally she was so warm, friendly and personable. Traits that helped make her the success she is today. "Ma'am?" he put his hand on her shoulder. "You ok?"

"Of course I'm fine. Always the life of the party, you know." She forced a smile to her beautiful face. "You were saying, Johnny?"

"Well, thars one new woman out thar, quite a perty, and with a lil Irish accent. Says she needs to speak to the owner about work."

"Bring her back to the office, Johnny. Always room for one more whore." She said the last part with such bitterness, Johnny didn't know how to reply, except to look seriously at her unusual tone. She put her hand on the back of his hand, as they stopped at the bar for a moment. "Sorry. I'm not well tonight." She excused it all in one sentence.

Johnny knew her better and wondered why she would try to slip something over like this on him. She glanced over towards Bear, already beginning a night of cards and drink. As she poured herself a shot and slammed it down, she gave Johnny instructions to bring the Irish girl back for some questions about how she could best fit into the staff of the Full Moon. Taking the bottle, leaving the shot glass, Maggie felt a long night ahead.


OOC: Even though we are beginning a bit, please. . .if you'd like to join at any time, we can work your character into the story. Either just post your introduction, or PM me with character ideas and I'll figure out how to work the person into the story. But with this being a busy saloon, it should not be difficult. Also, if you have a certain direction or goal for your character, please PM me with plans and we'll try to work this into the story as well. This is looking like a great bunch so far.

 

[Blue Dolphin]

OOC
Johnathon Richards, 36 year old English gambler
6 feet tall, always elegantly dressed, with wavy black hair and brown eyes.

<<<<>>>>

IC

The Full-Moon Saloon was busy when I entered, the piano player going at it hammer and tongue, and the bar was very crowded. I had just arrived in town, and taken a room next door at the Arcadia.

The desk clerk tried to tell me they had no rooms, but a few dollars soon changed his mind. Why was I here? Well, one word answers that, Gold. Where there is gold to be found and mined, there are gamblers, and that was what I was, and a damned good one too. Poker faced at the table, but the life and soul of the party at other times.

Last year I was in New Orleans, worked my way up Old Muddy, and heard about this place a couple of months ago.

Looking around, seeing the miners drinking, the girls plying for business, I knew that there was good money to be made here. But first I had to get to know a few people, get my presence known here. That was not usually too difficult, my cultured English accent had a habit of drawing attention to myself.

I called the barman over.

"I will have a whiskey my good man, a large one."

 

[TheScarletBlade]

There was a knock at the door.Eyes shooting awake,his hand slid back under his head.He always slept with a gun,just a forcive habit from the war he had served in.The army always urged captains to their guns close,just incase.There was another set of knocks.Alexander slipped out of bed silently and crouched,he made his way towards the door,clicking the hammer of his silver colt back into place.Finger on the trigger,He threw open the door and set the end of the pistol to the forehead of the bellboy standing there whimpering.

"Sir,its nine,when you wanted us to wake you up sir.Please don't shoot me because I want to live to see nineteen and..." the boys rambling went on and on.

Finally "SHUT THE HELL UP!" Alexander roared after he couldn't take it anymore.The boy quickly shut his mouth and walked off as Alexander lowered the pistol from the boys head.Shaking his head Alexander re-entered his room and shut the door.

Five minitues later,Alexander emerged from the hotel.Wearing a grey silk shirt,he wore a black trench coat that was loose,so the end of it swayed and whipped in the wind when Alexander moved.With black pants and a handful of guns in his hand,the Rough Rider walked over to his steed and slid his shotguns into their place on the saddle.Just in time also as some shady looking Mexicans moved across the street to stand behind Alexander,tapping him on the shoulders.

Turning around,Alexander looked at the men with a stone like complexion,his head raising to look at the two.The men got closer,trying to get right up into the Rough Rider's face."Look,those men you killed Mister were our friends and thee deaths will not go unpunished.Were letting you know,get the hell out of town or your dead"

Smiling,Alexander looked at the two men and shook his head slightly and then looked around "I think I am here to stay,I like this town and I think there is a lot of good I can do here." Alexander said as he pushed the town men out of his face and turned his back to them.

"Well,then there will be a fight comming,comming soon.You better watch your back Mr.Tough guy,we'll be around." The two men said as they turned and started to walk off across the street,insulted and rejected.Halfway to the other side of the street,Alexander called out to them.

"And why is that Tough guy" The leader of the two said as they turned around reaching for the guns at their side,now insulted and angry,they were ready to kill Alexander right now.Alexander smirked as he kept his back to the men.

"I think this is why" Alexander said as he spun around,yanking a shotgun from his saddle.He fired once,blast the first man back.The other man had his gun halfway out before he was blasted back as the shotgun howled again.Shaking his head,Alexander lifted the barrel of the gun and blow on the smoke.Grinning,he soldier slid the shotgun back into place and quickly mounted up.Spurring his horse on,he went easily down the street and took side street onto main street.

The lights of the saloons poured onto the street and the drunken laughter of men made a disjunctioned harmony that stung the ears of the easterner military captian.Dismounting,The Rough Rider entered a common saloon that had a name for itself as being a haven for gunslingers,indians and theives.It seemed like the perfect place to get some work.

Drawing his second pistol,a golden pistol with a black handgrip,the Rough Rider slid it into his side holster.His guns were known as the Sun and Moon.Twin pistols that had served him in the war.Pushing the doors of the saloon open,Alexander walked right in as if he owned the place and he could if he damn well wanted.With a dangerous yet sober look,Alexander looked around the room.There was all sorts of people in there but mostly men playing cards and drinking. Stepping away from the bar,he walked over towards and empty table in the back and brought a chair around for himself.Kicking his feet up onto the table,the Rough Rider slide comfortably back into his chair as he watched the room like a hawk,looking for the smallest bit of distrubance.

 

[scorpfemale]

Maggie and Molly speak

Maggie waits for Molly's entrance to her office. Though business and pleasure were the same with guests, business was business with employees. Not disappointed with her wait, Molly enters the lavishly decorated room with a hint of glow that had been beaten down over a recent period of time. "She looks terribly young." is Maggie's first thought upon seeing the delicate beauty. "Miss Molly, I'm Maggie O'Shear, but please, everyone calls me Maggie, and some call me worse." she winks, her two shots were catching up with her now, lightening her mood. She motioned for Molly to be seated, offering her a drink at the same time.

After hearing a bit of Molly's account of what lead her to Arcadia, Maggie feels a sharp pain in her chest. Her mind wanders back to seeing Bear from the window earlier, and how she wished with all her heart he would look so longingly at her as he did towards this mystery woman. But no one wants a whore she reminds herself, sucking back the emotions and taking another shot.

Molly's silence brought Maggie back to the current conversation, and in a moment of empathy, Maggie begins to speak, "My Dear," she then sighs, "I've seen a lot, I'm sure you can understand. I've seen too much actually." She pauses in thought for another moment. "I've no regrets, to be certain, for I have what I came here for--my own business and independence. I've been where you are, with no where to go, no skills for this life, depending on some god damn man to have pity on me and give me just the scrapings of meager existence." Molly can see the bitterness rise in Maggie's eyes. "And so, you've come to me on a good night, Sweet Molly, for while you are so tragically beautiful, that I'm sure with your fine looks and innocent ways, you might very well fetch me the best price ever at the Full Moon, I see a fork in the road for you that I once had. I took a different path, and it's led me here. Can't say it's good or bad, just different." She looks to make sure Molly is following her drift. "And now you have your fork in the road, but may it not be made with such desperation as mine. I will gladly have you in service of the Full Moon Saloon, but it is up to you to decide if you would like to work, selling your flesh for a heavy price, or if you'd like to work, selling your labor, for I am in desperate need of housekeeping." She leans forward over the desk a bit, but not too much so as not to tip out of her chair. "And if things keep going so well, I've plans to expand."

A knock on the door stops Maggie's outward scheming. Automatically she knows it is John. "Yes?" she asks.

The door cracks open, and John, looking a bit uneasy, announces "A new stranger, and he's legal." Maggie raises an intrigued eyebrow, and knows she should immediately return to the common room of the saloon. Prue didn't say anything about new brass in town she thinks to herself.

Molly looks uncertain at their coded talk. Maggie motions for Molly to come with her down the hall, explaining it meant a new man was in the saloon and either law or military. "And either way, it tends to make the guests uneasy, if they're just sittin' there, watchin' like they normally do." Before they end the hall and the noise becomes too great, Maggie turns to Molly once more, "It's your choice, Molly. Let me know which path you'll be taking." She walks off to asses this evening's guest, and put the staff on easy alert, meaning everyone is either secretly armed, or close to hidden weaponry.

"Coffee, John." she requests, as she takes the stairs to the balcony tables, which will allow her better viewing of who's doing what to whom. And so lonely, she sits, seemingly watching the world at play, while she swallows her sorrows.

 

[sharingfantasies]

Prue

At the sound of gunfire, Prue leapt to her feet and ran to the window. Not sure where the shots had started and in which direction the were headed, she kept her head down. It had sounded like shotgun fire which was a rarity. To hear it twice in one day could only mean the same person.

Looking carefully down both sides of the dark street, Prue had only the moonlight and the lanterns by the saloon to guide her. Sure enough, near the saloon was a man with a shotgun. From the angle of his tense body, he had been firing towards her shop! Moving towards the door, making sure she didn't cast a shadow on the glass window, she looked down the street and sure enough, there were two bodies.

Who was this man? In town for half a day and already four bodies to bury! This had been a fairly peaceful town until he showed up. Sure the miners got rowdy on Saturday nights, and cowpokes came in once or twice a month to live it up, but every western town had those events. There was a gang of thieves that had been attacking some of the miners but not in town usually. What was going on?

The man turned to enter the saloon and Prue grabbed her long duster and hat. It wasn't safe to be wearing skirts around at night, but dressed in her pants and duster, she managed to get around with little hassle. She smiled grimly, as she put her Colt into the pocket, its 3 1/2" barrel sliding in with ease. She hadn't used it often but she could hit where she aimed.

Opening the door to the shop, she slid out. Sauntering down the sidewalk until she was near the bodies, she looked down into their faces, didn't recognize them but they were definitely hard-cases. She continued down the sidewalk and across the street. Cutting through the alley between the gun shop and the saloon, she knocked on a small building in back. With a few concise words, she let Jose Luis know that he had business on Main Street. He asked about lengths of the bodies, so she gave him an estimate. He pointed to several boxes in his yard and said he had been expecting them and other members of their gang to end up with him eventually.

With a quick wave, Prue turned the corner of the saloon, and entered by the back door. The hallway was deserted but there was a light on in Maggie's office. Prue headed that direction. When she got there she saw Maggie talking to some girl. Prue grimaced as another girl down on her luck took the one real employment men allowed women to have without any questions. But this girl was lucky, Maggie would treat her right. Lots of places treated their girls worse than the customers did.

Prue pulled her duster around her body, crossed her arms over her breasts, and leaned against the wall to wait. She wanted to talk to Maggie about the army man with the active shotgun.

 

[scorpfemale]

Prue pulled her duster around her body, crossed her arms over her breasts, and leaned against the wall to wait. She wanted to talk to Maggie about the army man with the active shotgun.

Passing by Maggie's office, on the way to taking coffee to the balcony tables, John sees a shadow cast through the window. Slowly he sets the coffee down and draws his left pistol, cocking it quietly as he tip toes towards the door. With all these random gun shots today, John found himself wound a little bit tight.

He flings open the door, and sticks his hand out, pistol aimed towards the shadow. He can hear the other person draw a pistol and has it ready by the time John is going to make a move. At a bit of standoff, Prue clears her throat, and John asks "Prue?"

"Yeah." she says, in a little disbelief.

"Git yerself in here girl." he motions for her to come inside the office. "Yer gonna get yerself shot standin' out in the shadows like that." He explains that Maggie is up at the balcony tables. "You want I should go git her?"

 

[Blue Dolphin]

I stand at the bar, side on almost, looking around the place, while sipping my drink slowly. It is well laid out is the Full-Moon. Busy too, lots of tooing and frowing, I see there is also a balcony with tables. A good vantage point, I make a note of that

Occasionaly one of the girls who works here, takes a customer up to a room, nodding to myself, and wondering if I too ,might partake of a little Anerican pussy later, it has been a while, and pussy is pussy, whatever the flavor.

I bring my thoughts back to this place, a saloon, something I have been thinking of for a while. God knows I can afford one, or maybe just to buy into one even. This is the kind of town to go for, two years, make a fortune, and then move on.

But that was for the future maybe, for now, poker would do, I wonder if there will be a game today, or maybe it is a little early yet. No problem though, I will just watch and learn, patience being one of gamblings great values, and of patience, I have plenty.

I hear the gunshots, and all the commotion. But it is none my business, so I just continue to look around, noticing the lady up on the balcony, who seems to be the boss around here. Matbe I will find out soon, we shall see.

 

[sharingfantasies]

Prue

Still catching her breath after almost shooting John, Prue shook her head. "She is busy, I will just wait until she comes down, she will take a break soon." As John started to leave, Prue put her hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tighten. Looking up at him with a grin on her face, "I sure am glad I didn't shoot you." Prue chuckled as she heard him grumbling goodheartedly as he walked away. She knew she had scared him. What bothered her was how uptight they both were. She definitely wanted to know what was going on.

Crossing Maggie's office, a place where she had spent plent of time over the years, Prue poured a small glass of brandy and settled in to wait. The liquor was good stock, and burned as it went down spreading heat through her body and settling her nerves. Although she had joked about it, she had come way too close to shooting John, which told her how unnerved she had become recently.

Setting into a chair that faced the door, Prue stretched her feet out in front of her and crossed her ankles. Not the most ladylike position but extemely comfortable. She grinned again, shaking her head, if her mother hadn't died years ago, Prue's livingstyle would have put her in the grave. Sitting quietly, thinking about the questions she wanted to ask and planning tomorrow's printing jobs, Prue waited.

 

[snapper1313]

Pushing the doors of the saloon open,Alexander walked right in as if he owned the place and he could if he damn well wanted.With a dangerous yet sober look,Alexander looked around the room.There was all sorts of people in there but mostly men playing cards and drinking. Stepping away from the bar,he walked over towards and empty table in the back and brought a chair around for himself.Kicking his feet up onto the table,the Rough Rider slide comfortably back into his chair as he watched the room like a hawk,looking for the smallest bit of distrubance.

The shots outside brought a raised brow and little else in the saloon. From the corner of her eye, Maddie noted the swing of the doors shortly after the commotion outside. His saunter and intense gaze had her rolling her eyes as she picked up her glass and turned. Leaning on the bar, she made it just as obvious she was watching him. As he looked her way, Maddie tugged the bri of her hat and nodded.

Nice thing about Bounty work. The clothes she wore disguised her well. It wouldn't be until she shucked her trail coat that anyone would guess she was female. Setting her glass on the counter, Maddie watched the saloon. Movement on the upper balcony caught her eye. Sweeping back her coat, she hooked her heel in the brass rail at the base of the bar and returned to watching the proud man at a table not far away. Her gaze follows the loud cheer of a large redskin as he won another hand of poker.Someone was having a good night, she thought.

 

[Blue Dolphin]

"This place is certainly livning up"

I thought to myself, watching the gunslinger enter, and seeing the person at the bar tip a hat to him. I was not sure yet if that person was male or female, something about the way they stood there, had me wondering.
I could also hear the excitement at the poker game, but was happy to bide my time for now.

First I needed to get to know a couple of people, for I was the stranger here, and that meant that everyone was wary of me. Understandable in the violence that was the West. I had long since discovered, that the best way to get known in a place like this, was to by pass the hired help, and go straight to the top. Again I looked up at the balcony, where the beautiful woman who seemed to be running things stood, she was certainly watching things closely.

I managed finally to catch her eye, and tipped my hat to her, she nodded back at me, that was the signal I was hoping for.
I made my way up to the balcony, to introduce myself. Approaching her slowly, smiling, my hands nowhere near my Colt, letting her know that I was not a threat.

"Good Day to you Ma`am, please forgive this intrusion upon your valuable time, but I am new in town, I just arived in fact. I must say, this is a nice place you have here, and I was wondering, me being a stranger, if you could tell me what happens here, how I get into a poker game, that kind of thing?
If you dont mind that is?
Oh and by the way, the name is Johnathon, Johnathon Richards, from England."

Holding out my hand to shake hers, as I smile broadly at her, hoping that she will respond favourably to my approach.

 

[poohlive]

Night was falling. Or, it hand fallen, twinkles of twilight still remained, a purple hue masked the eastern horizon, falling fast. Sunset on the praire, to die for.

His headache had gone away, one of the deputies giving him a few tablets of aspirin to chew on. Another bucket of water to soak himself in, and Grey was almost in heaven here in the cell.

He had sobered up, and hadn't committed much of a crime, as he heard it from the deputy, but that didn't mean he could leave yet. They left it open as to when to let him go. He had seen this dance before, to scare him, make him never break the law again.

He just shrugged his shoulders, laying back on the bed. Let them play their little games. He would be happy with a free night, room board and food for a day. He hadn't much to his name, except for some worn clothes, calloused hands, and a few nickels for his trouble earlier.

Couldn't bribe his way out, nothing to his name, couldn't escape... he had no knowledge or will to do something as complicated or hard as that. And no friends to pay the 50 cents or dollar to bail him out. No one hardly knew he was here, or cared... or both.

Up shit creek, as they say. He laughed as that, propping his head up. Well, he'd been here before. Nothing so bad as a night in jail. At least, he would remember this night. His hazy memory had cost him a few mistakes, but this one would be more or less sober.

Which... was a pity.

 

[scorpfemale]

Maggie meets Johnathan

The coffee hadn't done a bit of good in settling her spirits, for it was the lust rolling inside that kept the inner voice speaking. At a very young age, Maggie found such an identity in sex, desire, and fulfilling actions. It was not until later she even realized how much these things were frowned upon, and still, as a woman in her mid-twenties, she didn't understand why a female who openly enjoyed sex was cast out of society and shunned. All these men, they were very openly here for fleshly indulgences, yet it was very accepted as "the way they are." Several times she has lost herself in thought at the injustice of this double standard.

Her eyes found their way to Bear again. A horrible habit. Only now she looked at him with frustration. If he won't have me, somebody will. Somebody will have me. I will not be lonely tonight. I don't need him. By way of consolation, she reached for a drink that was not there, so used to swallowing the pain.

So many unfamiliar faces among the crowd tonight. She'd make it a point to visit with each one before the night is over; just her way of making guests feel like returning. It was that one in the corner with the gray shirt that made her uneasy. Two of her most beautiful girls walked up to him, trying to start a conversation and draw his attention to lighter topics.

Jake was behind the main bar, smile on his face, serving the drinks as quickly as they were ordered. But Maggie knew at each corner of the bar was a mounted shot gun, ready to blow any trouble through the front window. Sweet, little Pansy worked hard at the side bar, handling the spill over guests with ease. People traipsed up and down the stairs, climbing with smiles of anticipation, descending with grins of fulfillment. And Maggie still sat in the balcony, alone, except for a pair of eyes that kept attracting her attention from time to time.

Hello, handsome stranger, she thought to herself, watching a hungry smile form on his lips from afar. Tipping his hat, Maggie offers him a nod and a smile, which sends him casually strolling up the stairs. One thing that looked so appealing about him is the way he carries himself, confidently and with dignity, yet nothing false about his pride. His clothes were elegant and genuine, not some poorly done imitation bought at the corner store. These were custom made, much to the likes of Maggie, who has all her clothes designed and sewn by her private seamstress. The lust boiled inside again as he approached, smelling clean and masculine.

"Good Day to you Ma`am, please forgive this intrusion upon your valuable time, but I am new in town, I just arived in fact. I must say, this is a nice place you have here, and I was wondering, me being a stranger, if you could tell me what happens here, how I get into a poker game, that kind of thing?
If you dont mind that is?
Oh and by the way, the name is Johnathon, Johnathon Richards, from England."

Maggie was completely enthralled with his approach. One so well-traveled and familiar with the atmosphere, pretending to need explanations and introductions to the way things work around here. She extended her hand to him, in a very feminine manner, smiling all the time. "And I am thrilled you came all the way up those stairs just to see me. Won't you please sit down?" She scooted the empty chair closer to her. "Mr. Richards. . .from England. . ." Again, she found it irresistible that he would feel the need to say he was from England, when clearly his accent made this an inescapable fact. "Can you still even count how many women you've fulfilled, just by whispering her own name in her ear in a moment of ecstasy with that accent?" She stared intently at Johnathon, wondering if he was here for business or pleasure.

 

[Blue Dolphin]

"And I am thrilled you came all the way up those stairs just to see me. Won't you please sit down? Mr. Richards. . .from England. . ."

She offers her hand also, and I brush my lips against the backs of her fingers, smiling at her. I know instinctively that here is a confident strong woman, sure of her own abilities, and sexuality. I know that she is eyeing me up, as I am her, and that we both appreciate this is happening. I wonder if she is spoken for, and if there is a man somewhere behind the scenes, maybe even watching as we speak.

"Can you still even count how many women you've fulfilled, just by whispering her own name in her ear in a moment of ecstasy with that accent?"

"Ah my dear lady, a gentleman never tells my dear, but let me assure you, fulfillment of that nature I simply adore, and it is the most pleasurable thing in the world is it not?"

The sweet smile upon her face, and the look in her eyes, tell me that I have struck a chord with her.

"Just one favour that I might ask of you though, for now anyway. What is your name pretty one, my having to say my dear lady all the time is far too formal dont you think?"