[Cassidy] This young lady looks in her late teens. She's pretty short, one or two inches under five feet tall but has good posture, making herself look very confident. Long, curly strands of her dark auburn hair rest by her cheeks that seem to escaped from a loose braided bun that sets above the back of her long swan-like neck. There's light skin on her face, almost pale as if it hasn't seen much sun so far except for very light freckles that speckle over her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are large and oval under dark eyebrows. The colour of them does not stand out much because they are a misty blue-green colour. Her hands look delicate and her fingers look long and dexterous, not hardly calloused at all. Her dress is extremely modest, her neck being tightly covered, set together with a plain blue broach. Her Dress is plain and blue and her hat is small with white and blue ribbons tied around the back so the ends flow down her back instead of her own hair.
[Curly] The man you see before you is a tall, lanky individual who walks with the bowlegged gait of someone who's spent more time in the saddle than out of it. The top of his head is covered by a growing bald spot but curly, coal black hair still clings to the sides and hangs down to just above his shoulders. An aquiline nose separates deep set, steel grey eyes that seem to miss little. Grizzled cheeks are covered with stubble and a full moustache rides above a mouth that seems to rarely smile or frown. His skin has been browned by the sun and toughened to the consistency of leather by long exposure to the elements.
He is dressed in a heavy woolen pullover shirt, dark blue in color, and black pin-striped wool trousers tucked into scuffed black cowboy boots. A faded red bandanna is wrapped about his neck and he wears a light brown wool vest. Wrapped about his waist, Mexican style, is a light blue sash. He also wears a buckskin coat and gloves and a battered Dakota-style Stetson hat with a "Montana Peak" completes his outfit. Belted about his hips is a worn leather gun belt with a Colt Peacemaker snugged in a crossdraw holster on the left side and a hunting knife riding on the right.
[Damien] Damien D'aray is a tall, well-favored man. Intense black eyes stare out of a handsome face framed by shoulder-length curly black hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. His movements are slow and lackadaisical, filled with a natural grace, and when he speaks his voice is rich with the cultured accent of Southern gentility.
He is dressed in a fine, white linen shirt with a placket front, winged collar, black string tie, and black cloth covered buttons, a black double-breasted vest with a platinum chain draped between the watch pocket and one button, and black pants tucked into black stovepipe boots. A black frock coat and black cavalry hat round out the outfit. All clothes are of fine quality and well tailored. Belted about his waist is a black gun belt. The holster is canted so as to angle the barrel slightly back along his leg and is secured to his thigh with a thin strip of rawhide. Occasionally his coat swings far enough open to flash a well cared for .44 Remington, carved ivory grips contrasting sharply with the black metal of the gun frame.
[Elise] Long, flaxen colored hair has been gently pulled back into a simple chignon at the nape of the woman's neck, several rebellious strands escaping the pins to rest around her face. Intelligent hazel-green eyes are partially hidden behind silver-rimmed spectacles, and her delicate features show her to be in her early twenties. While no raving beauty, she has a pleasant countenance and there is usually an air of impish confidence about her. A dress of nutmeg brown fits snugly to her frame, the color bringing out the hazel of the woman's eyes. Dark golden beads are sewn in an intricate design around the cuffs of the sleeves and thread of the same color embroiders the trim of the bottom of the dress. The neckline of the dress is modest and a gold filigreed locket rests just below the hollow of her throat, its surface carefully polished. Hailing from the Northeast, Elise Montgomery's accent and manners clearly mark her as a lady.
[Fenton] And of course there was Fenton Edward Coventry III. He was a taller wisp of a man with long limbs and perfectly crafted hands and torso. He seems a bit thin for a man of his height, and his hair is long for a man tied back in a perfect pony tail with long black satin strips running down the length of his jet black hair. His Pallid face and white flesh is contrasted by the black suit he wears that is custom tailored for his body, it grips every curve of flesh with perfect complimenting folds that make him seem far more impressive. A pure white shirt with bright red vest trimmed with purple satin and smaller adorned poker chips for his buttons adorns his breast, with a gold pocket watch hanging from a gold chain from his left pocket. Around him one can always detect the hint of Lemon and jasmine perfume on his person.
A long pair of dark black slacks reach down to perfectly polished leather boots with Silver trim and Cards, all the aces, etched into the tops of the boots with his pants neatly tucked away. Over his belt, hangs a gun belt loosely on his hips just low enough to hold a beautifully crafted silver plated and finely balanced and obviously custom .45 colt Cavalry pistol with custom bullets along the front of belt. The grip of the pistol is a exquisitely polished Pearl fashioned with dice etched into the handle. The pistol hangs openly for all to see, as if he was more intent on displaying the piece then using it. Although one wonders what those notches in the butt of the handle are from. He walks with a black lacquer cane with a gold top carved into the crest of his family, and the Cane itself seems a little long just for a plain walking stick.
[Madeline] Madeline stands half a head taller than many other ladies in town, at least. Long locks of ambergold hair are twisted back into a roll of sorts, caught at back of her head with a silver clasp, then tucked under neatly. Dark blue eyes dominate a finely featured face, alight with a spark of mischief or a glint of determined fire now and again.
Her dress is expertly tailored, though that should come as no surprise. bodice is a rich, coffee brown, the sleeves flared wide at the shoulders and tapering to fit snug around her wrists. The neckline buttons high, an ivory edging of pleated fabric almost tall enough to tickle her chin. Tiny carved ivory buttons decorate the front of the dress and the overskirt is likewise trimmed by pleated ivory That same skirt sweeps back with elegant flare into the bustle, and is decorated with the addition of ivory satin bows. The underskirt is a gingham check of the same ivory and brown. It flares with each kick step Maddie takes, but falls back unfailingly to cover the toes of her boots. Matching brown gloves cover long-fingered hands.
[Rick] Richard Porter (Rick to his friends) is a man worthy of a second glance. He stands a hint over six feet tall, and his broad shoulders set off a solid frame that runs to muscle, not fat. His hair, kept neat and short, could be considered a nondescript brown until sunlight brings out a red-gold tint. Brown eyes keenly watch Rick's surroundings, and usually seem to be reflecting some inner amusement.
Rick is wearing a clean white shirt, and dark grey pants that are probably part of a suit although he's not wearing the jacket. Black suspenders hold up the pants, and his dusty shoes look like they're supposed to be black, too.
In the square, There must be more people than just Madeline Quintan or MacClaine or Randolph down there, don't there? There ought to be, but she's there nonetheless, waiting for the debate, or at the very least, the speechifying to begin. Red white and blue, eh? And on the balcony, no less. She folds her arms across her chest and tips her chin up a little. Let's just here what the good candidate has to say.
In the square, Curly strides over from the north.
In the square, Curly meanders along on his palomino, going someplace but apparently in no particular hurry. Noting the people starting to gather in the square he glances towards the saloon. He heard something about someone making a speech. Might be interesting. He reins his horse in in front of the sheriff's office so its side is towards the saloon then swings one lanky leg over the horse's neck and hooks it on his saddle horn, apparently getting comfortable.
On the porch below, Rick has been hanging around waiting for Damien to start his speech, and when he hears all the footsteps overhead he figures it must be about time.
On the porch below, Rick hurries off towards the center of maddock.
In the square, Rick moves over from the saloon to the northwest.
Damien checks his pocket watch, then glances down at the square gauging the number of people who have gathered so far.
In the square, Madeline glances over at Curly and his horse, giving the man a good once up and down. Rick's given a once over as well, though she manages a smile for the barber, then goes back to watching D'aray, up there on his stage.
In the square, Elise strides over from the east.
Damien smiles at the gathering below. He raises his hands for a moment in a sort of wave then places them on the balcony rail before him. His voiced raised to project better he speaks, "Good people of Maddock. I come before you today because there are those who feel none of the candidates in the race for mayor have properly addressed you. While none of us have been shy about talking to anyone who wanted to question us on where we stood, its true that we haven't exactly done a lot of 'speechifyin' either."
Damien continues, "So I thought I should come before you today to address any questions you might have and to clarify some of my positions on the issues. If any of my opponents would like to do the same I invite them to join up here on the balcony."
In the square, Madeline comments, and does it loudly enough that Damien will hear it up on the balcony, too, "It's a whole lot easier to think about asking questions when we don't have cricks in our necks."
In the square, Curly chuckles softly as he busies himself with the makings of a cigarette.
In the square, Rick calls out in a somewhat loud voice, "I'm just fine here, thanks, among the townspeople I hope to represent, instead of talking down to them."
In the square, Elise enters the square quietly, remaining towards the edge of the group. She looks faintly amused at Rick's words, clasping her hands before her and glancing back up at Damien.
Damien smiles good naturedly, "I apologize for the inconvenience, Mrs. Randolph, but its been my experience that its easier to hear and understand a speaker when you can see him. I wouldn't want people complaining they couldn't hear me. I will try to keep my remarks brief though."
In the square, "I'm sure I can see you down here on the porch, Mr. D'aray. But, why not tell us what you have planned for the town?"
In the square, Cassidy strides over from the north.
Damien nods. He was just getting to that. "Well, the first thing I intend to do is form a town council. This council will be just that, a group of advisors. This town is made up of a diverse group of people; townsfolk, ranchers, miners, and homesteaders. Each group has their own interests and needs and I feel it would be impossible for any one man to fully understand them all. The council will serve to provide advise on what each group needs and how they may best be served. As such I intend to appoint the first group of
councilors. Once we have a chance to see how well the council works and if it would benefit the town to increase the council's powers the town can be divided into districts with each district voting for a councilman to represent them."
In the square, Cassidy comes in from the north carrying a rather small bag. Her look looks really smug, and she looks at everything like she thinks it's too dirty to touch.
In the square, Curly sits atop his horse smoking a cigarette. Like most of the people gathered in the square he is watching the man on the saloon balcony as he speaks to the assembled crowd.
In the square, Madeline, with her arms still folded over her chest, asks, "With all due respect, Mister D'aray, didn't this idea come up once before? And it didn't seem to be something the town wanted, then. What makes you think that you can get the townsfolk interested in it this time around?"
In the square, Cassidy looks over at the man sitting on the horse, smoking. She realizes how long she's been without a cigarette and then very badly wants one. But everything's soo... "Dirty," she sighs, shaking her head to herself. "Cass, what did you get yourself into?" She up wearysomely at the sky before she looks down in search of something to sit upon.
In the square, Rick had been nodding to Damien's words, but frowns slightly at Madeline's question. "Was it the town, or Mayor Tucker, who wasn't interested in a council?"
In the square, Elise nods in agreement with Rick's words. She seems to recall it being the town was in favor, but she doesn't voice it. Apparently the writer just doesn't want to get involved.
Damien smiles, "Maddock is growing, perhaps slowly but it is growing. Sooner or later a town council will become a necessity. While Mayor Tucker has done an adequate job as mayor I have heard more than a few people complain that they don't feel he got much done as mayor. For example its been two years and still nothing has really been decided or done about getting running water for the town even though it would reduce the risks of fire, among other things. A town council would help make it possible to get more work done. In the last election there were a lot of different proposals for how a council should be formed and what its powers should be. This time I believe I'm the only one proposing a council though perhaps Mr. Porter," he
gestures towards Rick, "will join me in this particular stand."
In the square, Rick asks up to the balcony, "Are you proposing a council that can act independently, or a council that's just a team of advisors?"
Damien says, "To begin with, just a group of advisors. Once a better idea is had of what the towns needs are, it may be that I would want to expand the powers of the council in which case they would be changed from appointments to an elected position. It was my thought that in such an eventuality each council member would serve a two year terms with elections being held in the years when the mayor isn't being elected so that transitions between mayors and councilmen can be handled more smoothly."
In the square, Cassidy wearily climbs to the balcony and finds a place to plop down after dusting out a chair with her
handkerchief. Over her head she hears talk of politics and groans. "Why can't there be... singing or something?" She mutters to herself. "To amuse me, at least. I didn't bring my ass over hear to hear politics..." But she listens with interest anyway.
In the square, Madeline asks, "Really, Mr. Porter, if the people of Maddock wanted something, don't you think that they could convince a mayor, no matter who he was?"
In the square, Rick shrugs, "Depends how badly they want it, and if the mayor is someone they've grown used to listening to, instead of questioning." He turns back to the balcony, "OK, D'aray, what's your second act as mayor going to be, after creating a
council?"
Damien nods at Rick's answer to Madeline. In response to Porter's question he says, "I'd like to take a look at the water situation. As I recall Mr. Zamir had several proposals for how it could be accomplished, from running pipe from the river to creating artesian wells closer to town. I'd like to examine each proposal to see what their merits are, to find out which would be the most cost effective, and work out how to finance such a system."
In the square, A voice in the crowd calls out "Let that rich feller that's buying up the town pay for the water."
Damien smiles. "And if 'that rich feller' then decides that gives him the right to decide who gets water and who doesn't? I'd rather there be no question that the water system belongs to the town."
In the square, Fenton strides over from the southern part of town.
In the square, Curly sits atop his horse, smoking a cigarette and, like most people in the square, watching the saloon balcony where D'aray stands addressing the crowd.
In the square, Now Fenton was not one for these public addresses, however in this case he felt it might be in his best interests to see what was going on. Of all the people running, he felt Mr. D'aray would have the most telling signs of being useful for Fenton if he where elected. Walking up, taking his daily consitutional with bodyguards on either side, he picks a spot near the saloon porch and pauses to take a gander at the crowd.
In the square, Cassidy sits on the porch wearily, looking up at the cieling as she listens to the balcony above.
Damien pauses to see if anyone else has questions before continuing, "Some have asked how I intend to bring the railroad to town. I've worked with the railroads before. I know what they want and what they need and they know they can trust me to deliver those things. They want to be assured that they'll make enough profits for it to be worthwhile for them to run a spur out to us. I can give them those assurances."
In the square, Fenton chuckles a little, listening to Damien speak.. noting that he was planing on bringing the rail in the hard way. Fenton already had plans for other methods.
In the square, Elise walks off towards the east side of Maddock.
Damien looks the crowd over with a smile, "Now I promised to try and keep my comments brief so in the interest of sparing Mrs. Randolph and the rest of you any more discomfort I shall end my 'speech' there. Are there any other issues that you would like me to address?"
In the square, Rick shrugs, with a grin, "Theo Grey said something in the newspaper about the school and schoolteacher, but apparently didn't come to hear you talk about it."
Damien nods, "Yes, he did ask about that but I figured my answer would be the same as everyone else's. We need to make sure we're paying our school teacher enough to keep them here." And in truth the problem with keeping a school teacher probably has more to do with available RP than how much money they're making.
In the square, Curly swings his leg back over his horse's neck and sets it to a walk, moving around the edge of the gathering. It was time he was getting back to the ranch.
In the square, Curly moves off towards the northside of town.
In the square, Theo strides over from the southern part of town.
In the square, Theo arrives, but late, and with hat-brim pulled down much more than usual. He wears a duster, with a dog padding along at his heels, and Theo's limp is much more pronounced than usual. Gloves hide his hands, and the collar of his coat is turned up.
In the square, Cassidy sits on the porch, looking tired and giving everything a glare like it's
filthy. When she finally rises, she reaches behind her and tried to re-pin her hair as she looks at people wander down the street.
Damien smiles at the crowd. "Well, I take it that no one has any more questions for me at the moment so I want to thank you all for coming to hear me speak and I hope you'll vote for me in the election. The next round in the saloon is on me and if anyone thinks of any other questions I'll be in the saloon."
Damien turns and returns inside the saloon building, the two waiters following him inside.