DeletedUser
(Wanted to start a new west-themed RP, set in the late 1800-early 1900. (1870-1920ish) Hope to have some others join in! Regular RP rules apply. If you don't know them, go read them before you join. Thanks!)
Name: Jess Tracey
Sex: Female
Age: 25
Horse(s): Jigger, Dobbin, Pistol
Occupation: Wrangler, Bar D Ranch; rumored ruffian.
Description: Jess Tracey stands about five-foot-three, weighing 110 pounds, with dirty blonde hair and an attitude that's ten-times larger than herself. She wears 2 matching .41 caliber 1877 Colt revolver's (the 'Thunderers') at her hips, and an 1873 Winchester rifle across her back. She is a dead-shot with each, and anyone who doubts it will end up six-feet-under in very short order. Currently she is leader of a small gang of riders, but it is unknown if they have caused any trouble. Rumors fly that the group of 5, lead by Jess Tracey, have been robbing trains and small banks, but if they have, they managed to hide all traces, as well as all securing good alibis. There is also rumor that the gang is always looking for new members... Jess Tracey and her group are most often seen in Marsten, a small settlement in Dervin County.
Horse(s) Description:
Jigger: Red Dun Blanketed Appaloosa Stallion
Dobbin: Blue Roan Tobiano Stallion
Pistol: Golden Buckskin Stallion
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jess Tracey checked Dobbin's girth one last time before mounting the large stallion and gathering the reins in a petite hand, the other resting on the butt of her Winchester, which was currently in it's saddle sheath, instead of it's regular position across her back. Her striking green eyes stood out against her suntanned skin and dirty blonde hair as they checked over her small group of 4, who would be riding with her out of Marsten in the early morning fog. Her matching ivory-handled Colt's rode easily at her hips, as if she were born to wear them, her reputation being such that they all knew she could and would use them without a moment's hesitation. There was no chance in hell of surviving a shot from her if she decided to pull them from their holsters. After settling in the dancing stallion's saddle, she buttoned her black duster against the chill, pulling her black stetson down to hide her eyes.
"Let's go... the train is due in an hour." She calls out, turning her horse and nudging him into an easy trot. The men scramble behind her, mounting their various horses in a flurry of dusters and a jangle of spurs, soon catching up and disappearing with her into the fog.
Name: Jess Tracey
Sex: Female
Age: 25
Horse(s): Jigger, Dobbin, Pistol
Occupation: Wrangler, Bar D Ranch; rumored ruffian.
Description: Jess Tracey stands about five-foot-three, weighing 110 pounds, with dirty blonde hair and an attitude that's ten-times larger than herself. She wears 2 matching .41 caliber 1877 Colt revolver's (the 'Thunderers') at her hips, and an 1873 Winchester rifle across her back. She is a dead-shot with each, and anyone who doubts it will end up six-feet-under in very short order. Currently she is leader of a small gang of riders, but it is unknown if they have caused any trouble. Rumors fly that the group of 5, lead by Jess Tracey, have been robbing trains and small banks, but if they have, they managed to hide all traces, as well as all securing good alibis. There is also rumor that the gang is always looking for new members... Jess Tracey and her group are most often seen in Marsten, a small settlement in Dervin County.
Horse(s) Description:
Jigger: Red Dun Blanketed Appaloosa Stallion
Dobbin: Blue Roan Tobiano Stallion
Pistol: Golden Buckskin Stallion
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jess Tracey checked Dobbin's girth one last time before mounting the large stallion and gathering the reins in a petite hand, the other resting on the butt of her Winchester, which was currently in it's saddle sheath, instead of it's regular position across her back. Her striking green eyes stood out against her suntanned skin and dirty blonde hair as they checked over her small group of 4, who would be riding with her out of Marsten in the early morning fog. Her matching ivory-handled Colt's rode easily at her hips, as if she were born to wear them, her reputation being such that they all knew she could and would use them without a moment's hesitation. There was no chance in hell of surviving a shot from her if she decided to pull them from their holsters. After settling in the dancing stallion's saddle, she buttoned her black duster against the chill, pulling her black stetson down to hide her eyes.
"Let's go... the train is due in an hour." She calls out, turning her horse and nudging him into an easy trot. The men scramble behind her, mounting their various horses in a flurry of dusters and a jangle of spurs, soon catching up and disappearing with her into the fog.