Gun: A Western Adventure

The year is 1870, and the United States is recovering from its brutal Civil War. While the East is rebuilding, the Western frontier is booming. Cities and towns pop up across the plains, deserts, and mountains of the unforgiving landscape. At the town of Granite-Grave, Kansas, business is booming as more people come in from the East each day. One of the citizens of this sprawling community is Wild Joe, a bum who claims to have been one of the first settlers out into the West. for a nickel he'll entertain you with the legend of a vast sum of Aztec gold, hidden somewhere in the West, and how it was stolen from the Spanish long ago by the fierce Apaches. While most of the town refuses to believe him, some travellers take him seriously, especially after the hanging of an Apache rcently....

Hangman: Let it be known that this man, Rides-with-the-wind, is charged with the murder of 2 fine young boys, and is hereby sentenced to hang by the neck until dead. Do you have any last words?

Apache: Yes, and it is that you pale-face, with your eternal greed and need to expand, shall find your ignorance to be your downfall. None of you, or those 2 bandits i killed, shall never find the lost treasure of Quezticotal, never.

Hangman: Tell it to your sky-god, yer red-men.

*Trap door opens, and the Indian falls, hanging in front of the pleased crowd*

Heres the stat sheet you need cowboy

Name
Nickname (if any)
Appearance
Appearance of Horse
Weapons (Pistols, shotguns, rifles, western stuff)
Personality
Background
Occupation: (Drifter, Bandit, Sheriff, herder, farmer, saloon owner, etc.)

Name: Alexander Cross

Age: 30

Height: 6' 1"

Weight: 201 lbs

Nickname: Alex

Appearance: Tall, pale long brown hair, pale blue eyes

Horse: Black horse

Weapons: Black Peacemakers

Personality: Slightly insane, more intellectual then his brother

Background: Robs banks, trains, and anything with money

Occupation: Bandit

NAME: Preston Cross
AGE: 29
APPEARENCE: Decent sized man at 5' 10'' weighing at 198 lbs. Short brown hair. No beard, but has a stubble. Brown eyes.
HORSE: Named "Roughneck" by Preston. A young horse that runs as fast as any other but is extremly aggressive to all except Preston. All brown.
WEAPONS: One Single Action Army and one Winchester rifle.
Personality: The nicer, funnier brother. Not very ruthless as his brother, but will get the job done no matter what.
BACKGROUND: As kids and teens, Preston and his brother trained in weapons while his father was out. Mainly stuck to rifles, thus becoming a sharpshooter with rifles, while his brother stuck to pistols.
OCCUPATION: Bandit

Name: Patrick McGreggor
Nickname: Shamrock McGreggor
Appearance:Like image, but no beard
Horse: Brown
Weapons: Winchester rifle and 1 .45 Colt revolver
Personality: Kind, Moral, Smart, Determined
Background: was a Captain of a Union company in the Civil War. After the war, he left the lands that his brothers in arms died on, and moved west to start fresh
Occupation: Drifter/former sheriff

(everyone will start off observing the Apache hanging)

Patrick threw his cigar to the ground and stomped it out into the harsh, rocky ground.

"Poor sap," he said as he walked away from the gallows and towards Bison-Biff's Saloon, the local bar and brothel in Granite-Grave.

Patrick walked through the swinging doors to reveal an entirely different Granite-Grave, as different from the wholesome community as the Rebs were from the Yanks. The piano was playing and the cards were being dealt, and girls were giggling as they were being bought off by scoundrels and drifters, bandits and hooligans. Patrick sat at the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey.

Alex laughed as he saw the Indian hung. He looked at his brother who wasn't laughing.

"Why aren't you laughing? This is hilarious," Alex asked."Ah ya your a chicken sh!t. So you think that treasure is real?"

Name: Santiago 'David' Albelda

Nickname: San, Albelda.

Appearance: 5'10, 199lbs, See Pic

Appearance of Horse: White horse, brown patches.

Weapons: Dual Colt Pacemakers (Black), M1873 Rifle (Brass)

Personality: Cool, Calm, Cold towards others, Doesn't rush in to action takes his time to assess situations.

Background: Santiago was brought to the West when he was just a young child, his parents raised him well he was given all he needed as a child but he still appeared to resent his parents. Eventually both his parents passed away leaving Santiago alone in the World.

Upon arriving in Kansas he took the oppurtunity to start a new life, dubbing him self David.

Occupation: Drifter

Preston looked at his brother angrily and shoved him.

"You shutup! You crazy fool! I ain't no sissy!"

Turning around he began to walk away along with the crowd.

"Treasue ain't real!" Preston began to say, still walking, "We've been doin' our job and haven't found squat. Luck isn't just gunna come up and be our friend."

He entered the town saloon and took a seat at the bar. Everyone seemed to be happy and joyful after a innocent man was hanged.

"Crazy folks. I hate towns," Preston whispered to himself, "Hey bartender! Hook me up with some whiskey."

"Yeah that whiskey is for me he'll have a Cranberry juice," Alex said following his brother. "I doubt that Indian would lie." Alex pulled out a silver chip from his pocket, and gave it to the bartender."You sure you can handle that cranberry juice?"

'David' sat down at the bar slowly drinking his whiskey. He looked around the Bar everyone was happy, why what had they to be happy about killing a man for killing to Bandits they were scum in his eyes.

"Senior!" He called over the bartender "Get me another Drink" he slowly tilted his hat up, looking around the bar. "There ya'go partner'" the bartenders gave San his drink "Gracias Amigo".

Preston looked at Alex, then back to the bartender. The bartender gave Alex his whiskey and handed him juice.

Why the heck they got cranberry juice here!?

But it didn't matter, he drank it anyway. He wasn't in the mood for whiskey. When he drank whiskey, he wanted more whiskey, then more. Until the point he wouldn't remember a thing and wake up next to some lady he didn't even know with his pockets empty.

"Alex. I hate you. If you weren't my brother, I would of killed you. But then again, I don't doubt every day that you want to kill me," Preston said facing the wall of drinks in-front of him. Turning his head to face Alex, he then continued, "Anyway, what do you know about indians?"

He put his drink down and called the bartender, "Hey! Give me some more of this good stuff!"

He spun around in his chair and faced away from the bar.

"Well. If your up for some gold huntin', let me finish this drink and we can be well on our way."

"I ain't know much about Indians, but that one seemed like he was tellin the truth," Alex said lifting his drink up to his mouth. "We don't even know where to look." He took a long sip of whiskey. "But they might be 'persuaded' to tell us at that ole indian place outside the city."

Name: David Cross
Age: 27, youngest of his three brothers, Alex and Preston
Apperance: 5'10 and 175 pounds, very muscular,with a clean shave and medium lenght brown hair
Horse: Names "Lucky" by David since he found this horse alone as a colt after a cattle stampede that went over him
Weapons:M1873 Peacemaker Pistol with a .45 caliber bullet, M1880 Lever Action Carbine mounted on his horse and on his back a British Enfield Musket for his sniping from afar
Personality: David is definatly a ladies man since he gets the ladies just by saying hi, and he also is very stealthy since he knows the way of a true sniper, but he is often short tempered and is banned from many bars across the west
Childhood: Was beat up a lot by his oldest brother Alex so he became tough and strong so his brother would leave him alone. His other brother Preston and him would do everything together;walk to the store play games, ride horses as well as practice there shooting which caused David to become a exellent marksman.
Occupation: Bandit

(to advance the story, ill play some NPCs)

Patrick eyed the two brothers, and laughed to himself

Well i dont believe ive ever seen a more bumbling pair of fools

He took a sip from his whiskey glass when he heard one brother talk about the treasure
"Treasue ain't real..."

As the brothers continued to argue, an old man, ragged clothes and long beard, slowly staggered his way over, obviously drunk. He lifted his prospectors hat to reveal the face of Wild Joe. He grinned a toothless grin, and coughed before he said in a hushed tone

"So, you varmints are after the treasure of Quezticotal?"

The bartender looked up dissaprovingly

"Ahhh Joe dont get started again.."

"No!, its true i tell ya! Those Apaches hid nearly 3 million dollars worth in Spanish gold in those there mountains....or was it those plains, or forests.."

The saloon went quiet when Joe mentioned the money. One cardplayer dropped his hand and grabbed the old man

"Where did you say that money was, old man?"

His friend got up and shoved his pistol into Joe's shirt, ready to pull the trigger. Pat got up and immediately punched the friend in the head, and grabbed the other man, throwing him onto the card table. One punch lead to another and soon the saloon had again fallen into a barfight. the bartender sighed

"Not again"

"Hmmm, haven't been in a barfight in a few weeks," Alex said.

Preston quickly looked at his brother when the commotion began.

"Alex...I know what your thinking...Don't do it!" Preston yelled before jumping behind the bar.

The bar fight was just like any other Preston had been in. The fighting was fun until his brothers ruined it by doing something crazy. As he covered his head, a big ole man walked up to him and grabbed his shirt.

"Oh heck no!" Preston laughed as he was tossed across the room, "Ahhahahah!"

Pat was blocking a punch from a drunk when he saw the bandit fly across the room. He laughed aloud amid the chaos as he tried to fight his way over to the kid. He was about 4 feet from him when Bruiser Williams, a local gang leader, stepped in front of him. In his time as a sheriff, Pat had taken Bruiser in for bank robbing, so he knew that Bruiser wasnt there to shake his hand. Pat grabbed a chair and smashed it over Bruiser's head, who seemed un-fazed, untill he fell over onto his back, his dazed face looking at preston. Pat held out his hand to Cross

"Need a hand boy?

Preston didn't deny the hand and grabbed it. He was pulled up in the middle of the chaos.

"Hey thanks!" Preston yelled, before turning and continuing to fight.

Alex pulled out one of his pistols. He shot the big man that had thrown his brother in the chest. He jumped over into the bar. The place was getting loud. A carefully placed shot to another man's heart quickly him. Suddenly the big man that Alex shot stood up, and grabbed him by the throat.

"Jesus your a big boy," Alex managed to get out. He fired his pistol 3 times into the man's stomach, then whacked his arm with the pistol.
"Guess your strong too," He said, the man still coming at him. Alex fired a round in his shin, and he fell to the ground. He aimed the gun at his head.
*Click*
"Your a lucky bastard," Alex laughed. A bottle suddenly hit him in the head, and he fell unconscious.

(Drbob: your quote at the bottom f*cking rocks!)

Pat and Preston fought back to back for several minutes, trading punches with other fighters. Pat grabbed a whiskey bottle and smashed it over one man's head, and stabbed another with the shards. Soon, Bruiser had regained conciousness, and, while mumbling curses, drew his pistol and pointed it at Preston. He pulled the trigger, but the gun jammed, giving Cross some time