The Gang Rides In
Descriptions of the characters
 

[Bartles] Joey Bartles is young and clean-shaven, with vague hints of Mexican blood somewhere further back in his ancestry. Dark hair, dark eyes, he could maybe clear the five foot six mark if he wasn't slouching. Despite his rather unassuming physical size he carries himself with an abundance of grim self-confidence, like there's a hidden pair of aces he's just itching to show someone. Maybe, just maybe, he's got them stuffed down in those two visible pistol holsters. [Chester] Brainless muscle or something else? The muscle is there, and height, and a tanned face that seldom smiles or speaks more than few words. Hair is dark and neatly combed, as is a luxuriant mustache. His trousers and shirt are grimy with travel dust, and his duster is grey with it. But the gunbelt and the two pistols it holds, now _those_ are quite clean. [Cally] Cally Andrews has grown up quite a bit since she first came to Maddock. No longer the wide-eyed sixteen-year old, two years on the frontier and the trials of motherhood have given her an older, more experienced appearance. Cally is a petite young lady, somewhat frail-looking. She's what most men would consider attractive, but the silver engagement and wedding rings on her left hand mark her as already spoken for. Cally is wearing a plain, practical outfit. Her skirt is a dark blue in color, the blouse tucked into it a pretty blue and red plaid. The collar and cuffs of the blouse are just a bit ruffled for style, and beneath the hem of her dress, the tips of shiny black boots can be seen. Over the dress is a heavy woolen coat for wear outdoors and some warm mittens. Carrying: Cally's journal [Cletus] Cletus Booker is a kinda short, slightly pudgy man with wild, childlike eyes. He's basically nondescript in appearance, worn and scruffy, well-traveled -- nondescript except for a puckered round scar on his forehead, near the left temple. He's prone to make noises of various kinds -- humming, whistling, giggling, gobbledygook. [Jansom] This man is large. No other word describes it right. He stands almost 6'3" tall, and looks to weigh a good 200-220 pounds. And even worse: None of it looks like fat... He moves with slow grace, and usually takes his time thinking things over. He has a reddish skin tone, and very blue eyes. His hair is a dark blond tone, reminiscent of bronze. He looks you over with a friendly smile. He is wearing a heavy wool duster, and under this you can see a checked shirt in red and blue. A heavy leather belt is strapped around his waist, holding up a pair of canvas trousers. He has a quite new stetson-type hat on his head. He seems to be in a good mood, and has a happy smile about his lips. [Josh] Though only in his mid-twenties, Joshua McCormick has a weathered, rough look that makes him appear much older. His dark brown hair comes to just above his collar, and he invariably seems to sport a five o'clock shadow. Bright blue eyes peer out from beneath unkempt bangs, though Josh's expression seems to be set in a perpetual scowl. Josh's clothes have seen better days. His pants are a medium brown in color, the knees well-worn and the cuffs tucked into calf-high leather boots. His shirt appears to have been white at some point, though now it's more of a light beige. Thrown loosely over the shirt is a dark vest, and when outdoors Josh wears a warm, heavy gray overcoat and gloves. Hanging at Josh's hip is a plain, functional holster. Nothing fancy, but more than enough to hold his equally functional Colt revolver. [Maggie] Maggie's a girl somewhere in her late teens, tall, slightly overthin, her manner often awkward and shy. Black hair is drawn back from a dark-eyed, pale face and gathered into a thick braid that occasionally swings over one shoulder. She wears a comfortable ankle-length dress of rose-colored wool, soft and warm, topped with a neat wide circle of a collar and sashed with a length of the same pink. Over it all she wears a black wool coat with a sweeping skirt, close-fitting sleeves, and shiny brass buttons. She wears a wedding band on her left hand. [Miss Gem] Expensive, this lady is, and she looks it. The eyes are a deep blue, the color a man could drown in, and capable of a devestating glance through thick, dark lashes, and the hair is long, rich brown in color, and has a wave to it that is just short of curls. Full lips, often smiling, the sort that promise, and deliver, much; Gem Trotters is nobody's fool, and knows like nobody else how to work a crowd -- though she prefers it one on one. Her dress is of high quality material, perhaps silk, not a practical fabric for bitter Montana days and worse nights, but then, Gem is never at a loss for someone to warm her bed. Teal in color, it sets off her eyes exactly, and the lowcut collar shows off slim, well-formed shoulders. Even cleavage isn't -too- noticable, though it's evident; no sense in giving out the wares for free, boys. Corset shapes her form into an hourglass, and visible under the hem of the dress are ankle-high boots. [Palmer] Sterling Palmer doesn't much look like he belongs in Maddock. He stands about 6'1" tall and is fairly thin, weighing in at about 170 pounds. He is quite handsome, with rather soft features. A smile will accentuate the cleft in his chin, but it is rare to see this man smile. His eyes are colorless, coal black in fact and his thick, long wavy hair matches them perfectly . He wears a rather nice black silk suit with a long, coat-tailed jacket. It doesn't appear as if he is carrying any type of weapon. He speaks with an accent, but this accent is very hard to place. Possible traces of southern mix with traces of New England, which mix with traces of high English. Quite an odd combination. [Pete] An ordinary man at first glance, not someone who anyone would pay much mind to. His clothes are tattered but clean, having seen a better day likely many years ago. The tans and off-colored whites end against sun weathered skin and a mop of sandy brown curls that haven't seen a true barber since his clothes left the general store shelf. His duster is trimmed with fur, the frayed hairs slipping out from beneath the sleeves and collar. A closer examination reveals a man who doesn't want to be noticed. Hunched shoulders hide this man's true height and deep blue intelligent eyes peer out from beneath his unkempt hair. A gunbelt can be glimpsed as his duster opens, a pair of Colt 45s adorning each hip. [Richard] Richard Cord is a man of just over average height, with dark brown hair and roving green eyes. He wears dark, loose-fitting clothes, hiding his rail-thin physique. He wears a bright felt hat, brightened by a silver stick pin. A roomy black cloak is wrapped around him, keeping him warm and mostly hiding the Remington .44 on his left hip. [Reardon] Buff-tan snakeskin boots lie just below sharp-pressed pants of dark chocolate brown, belted with a belt that matches the shade of his boots. His shirt is off-white, or ivory in color, full-sleeved, in a card-dealer's style, under a vest of the lighter tan color; the buttons are, naturally, of dark brown wood, and well-polished. A jacket of the same dark brown as the slacks is worn over all, well-tailored, but not as 'obvious' as his former tailcoat. His face is now clean-shaven, the thin mustache having been shaved away, making the man seem a handful of years younger than the fourty he's seen. His hair, raven black, has grown a little longer than it's normal close-cropped cut, and dark green eyes that were once hard, have on occasion shown a softer light. All in all, he seems much changed -- including the bulge beneath his jacket which tells the keenest eyes that he carries a weapon. [Redhorse] Only about 5'8", Redhorse McFarron is a bit short, but his anger and meanness are not diminished by stature. An Indian halfbreed, he takes after the Indian side of his blood, which means his skin is darker than most palefaces, but his features are not quite Native. He is dressed raggedly, with stitched holes in his pants and plaid shirt. He is never far from his trusty rifle, nor from his sword-like bowie knife. Carrying: Bowie Knife Winchester rifle [Sally] White, some might call it alabaster, skin - marred by a few freckles across the bridge of her button nose - contrasts with auburn hair so dark it seems brown, unless it's caught in the sunlight. She has deep eyes under dark brows - warm, yet tired, eyes - and there are little lines around a mouth that doesn't smile as often as it did.... The fabric of her dark grey dress rustles over several petticoats. It seems slightly strained through the bodice, as though her waist was smaller, her figure more "youthful", once upon a time. She's about 5' 3" short, and she bustles about with youthful energy. Her hair is pinned up into a bun and a pair of reading glasses slips down her nose. She carries a parasol, a purse, and an envelope. [Wilona] The woman before you is petite, at just under 5'3". Her features are small, narrow hazel green eyes beneath thin brows, small pouting lips and pominent cheekbones. Her complexion is smooth, the soft beige skin just beginning to show the 33 years she has seen. Tiny wrinkles surround her eyes, becoming more apparent when she flashes her friendly smile, which is often. In spite of her fragile appearance, her voice has a strong steady inflection, a deep husky timbre which she never permits to be heard raised in anger. She is dressed in a dress of mahogany red, the fitted bodice easily revealing that beneath she wears no corset. The neckline scoops low, baring her shoulders and is accentuated by a trim of forest green ribbon. Her auburn red curls are swept upwards and pinned with a setting of tiny green emeralds. Wisps of fallen curls trail around her exposed shoulders, framing her small face. The dress falls just shy of her ankles, revealing her stockings and small leather slippers. As she walks, you can hear the quiet rustle of the peticoats beneath. The constant movement of her hands draw your attention to a small silver banded ring that is on her hand. It's carved into a weaved pattern and surrounds green jade stones.