Quentin is a tall, well-built man in his mid-thirties. Despite a rather laconic manner in movement and speech, he is quite athletic. He has thick black hair that is kept cut short and rarely sports facial hair. His eyes are green-brown hazel that seem to change color depending on his surroundings and moods. Quentin is normally well-dressed and hates to be dirty.
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Traits & Characteristics
Suave, Charming, Debonair
Calm, cool-headed, especially in a crisis
Strong sense of justice
Doesn't hold a grudge, but will get even.
Quentin Aloysius Cantrell was born into the genteel life of the aristocracy of the Southern United States and a way of life that would all-to-soon come to an end.
Being fair and honorable was more than mere words to the Cantrells, and they imparted both traits to their son. Quentin was also taught that there were very few circumstances that merited being crude or impolite. In all his dealings, Cantrell keeps those two virtues in mind.
Cantrell is seen as a suave, debonair man, much like the stereotypical southern riverboat gambler personality. His genteel manners cover a spine of pure steel marked by never backing down from a confrontation. He also developed a reputation as the quintessential ladies' man.
Although gaining his trust and respect is not easy, once given, Quentin is loyal to a fault. Holding a grudge is not his style, but trailing someone for months to get justice for wrongs to him or those that he calls friends is.
Quentin is calm, cool-headed and very intelligent.
Quentin has a deep voice laced with thick South Carolina accent. His southern drawl seems to add to his ability to attract the ladies.
Employer Name: Thornton Legacy, Lost Lake Ranch
Position: Business Manager, Troubleshooter
Details: Quentin owns a percentage of the Thornton Legacy business assets and is the manager of the assets belonging to his niece and nephew until they come of age.
Highly intelligent and educated
Excellent investigative skills
Good at reading people
Excellent interrogation skills
Excellent observation skills
Gunfighting / Marksmanship
Self Defense: Quentin is good with his fists, and excels at using any weapon handy in a brawl. All skills learned by losing as many fights as he won when he was younger. He is also an excellent marksman and a very fast draw.
Hobbies & Interests
Aliases / Nicknames
Q, Quen, Quent (used mainly by Shade Thornton)
Double L Ranch (Lost Lake Ranch)
Kalispell, Territory of Montana
San Francisco, California
Place of Birth
Charleston, South Carolina, USA
Kith & Kin
Children: Quentin does not have any children of his own. He shares guardianship of his orphaned niece and nephew with their paternal uncle, Shade Thornton.
William Cody Thornton: Nephew, Ward
Birth Parents: Chance and Regina Thornton
DOB: February 11, 1870 (a. 5)
Appearance: Cody has his Uncle Shade's raven black hair and deep blue eyes. His hair is thick and wavy, he also has dark brows and long, thick black eyelashes.
Regina Antoinette Thornton: Niece, Ward
Birth Parents: Chance and Regina Thornton
DOB: February 11, 1870 (a. 5)
Appearance: Nettie has Regina's beautiful, golden brown hair and her father's light-blue eyes. Her eyebrows and lashes are slightly darker than her hair, but golden tipped which matches the natural highlights in her hair. Nettie's hair is thick and wavy, and she prefers to wear it cut short. She hates being forced to stay still for someone to comb, brush and braid her hair for her.
Father: Charles Cantrell (deceased)
Mother: Claire Devereaux Cantrell (deceased)
Sister: Regina Beth Thornton
Husband: William Chance Thornton (m. 06/05/1862)
DOB: 04/05/1845; DOD: 06/02/1875 (a. 30)
Maiden Name: Cantrell
Regina Cantrell was the daughter of a wealthy Charleston, South Carolina family. The Cantrells and Thorntons were long-term business associates and friends with the Thorntons doing most of their east coast shipping business with the Cantrells. In 1861, with the winds of war stirring, Regina's parents sent her to stay with the Thorntons in Montana, hoping to keep her safe from the pending conflict.
She and Chance Thornton fell in love almost at first sight. They were married a year after she came to live with the Thorntons. Reggie also fell in love with the ranch and Montana in equal measure. It was Regina's efforts that took the ranch from a modest paying concern to a one of the best in the country.
William Grant Thornton (Nephew; DOB: 05/02/1865; DOD: 06/02/1875 (a. 10)
ADVERSARIES & ALLIES
Shade Thornton (1875 to Present): Quentin met Shade when he brought him the news of Chance and Regina's death. During their journey to Montana, the two men became friends.
Quentin harbors a deep-seated hatred of whoever was responsible for the death of his sister and her family.
Others to be determined in game play.
May 7, 1839 (a. 0): Quentin Aloysius Cantrell born to Claire and Charles Cantrell.
April 5, 1845 (a. 6): Regina Beth Cantrell (younger sister) born.
1845 to 1856 (a. 6-17): Attends Charleston's Philips' Academy (private school)
Quentin had a childhood typical of a young man born into the upper echelons of Southern society. He learned the etiquette required of all young gentlemen. Quentin attended one of Charleston's premier private schools for young men where he was a good student but easily bored when studying subjects that he had no interest in.
1856 to 1860 (a. 17-21): West Point (4 years) September 1860: Regina sent to live with Thorntons.
Upon graduating from high school, Quentin spent a few months kicking around, trying to decide what he wanted to do. He had no interest in the family's shipping business, prompting his father to put a time limit on him for finding something he wanted to do and making his own way. It was almost by accident that he wound up at West Point when a family friend nominated him.
Although the military was not his first choice, Quentin did surprisingly well, excelling at the challenging curriculum. He graduated in the top one-percent in his class.
With the deterioration of relations between the northern and southern states, Quentin's parents decided to send their daughter to live with family friends in Montana, well out of harm's way.
1861 to 1865 (a. 22-26): The Civil War.
Cantrell heard about a unit being formed called Hampton's Legion. He traveled to Charleston to enlist and due to his West Point Education was commissioned as a Lieutenant in the Cavalry that made up part of the Legion. In 1862 the Cavalry was combined with other small units and designated the 2nd South Carolina Cavalry where they served with Hampton for the rest of the war. The Battalion saw action in most of the major actions of the Army of Northern Virginia from Second Manassas through the end of the war. Cantrell showed skill despite his age and ended the war as a Major.
June 5, 1862 (a. 23) Regina marries Chance Thornton (Kalispell, Montana).
May 5, 1865 (a. 26): William Grant Thornton (nephew) born.
1865 (a. 26): Civil War ends, Quentin moves west.
At the end of the Civil War, with his home destroyed and no family left except for Regina, Quentin moves west and settles in San Francisco. California allowed him to be within a respectable distance of Montana for visits home with his sister and her growing family, but still in a city that was a hub of society and culture. Except for modest sums of money ensconced in hidden accounts, the Cantrells had lost everything. One of Quentin's goals was to rebuild the family fortunes.
1866 to 1875 (a. 27-36)
March 1, 1867 (a. 28): Lilah Beth Thornton (niece) born. February 11, 1870 (a. 31): William Cody Thornton (nephew) and Antoinette Regina Thornton (niece) born.
Shortly after settling in San Francisco, Quentin met up with an old friend who had pulled out of the South right before hostilities broke out. He offered Cantrell a generous finder's fee to locate his former partner who had absconded with the bulk of his fortune. Quentin discovered a talent for locating people and things. The military had taught him tactics and persistence. He was also quite skilled with firearms, another major business asset in the West.
Over the next several years, Quentin's reputation for getting jobs done grew. He billed himself as a Troubleshooter. Cantrell's work ranged from prisoner escort to bodyguard.
June 2, 1875 (a. 36): Regina, Chance, Grant, and Beth are allegedly massacred by Indians. Only Cody survives.
Quentin receives word that his sister was killed while returning with her family from Missoula, Montana. She, her husband and their two older children were allegedly killed by Indians. Quentin heads for Montana where he learns that Chance and Regina had named Chance's younger brother, Shade, as the children's guardian in their will, as well as the trustee of their estate. However, the family's attorney was moving for custody of young Cody, citing Shade as not suitable, if even still alive. Quentin manages to get a temporary injunction on the proceedings but has a finite amount of time in which to locate Shade Thornton.
Graduated West Point Military Academy.
Quentin is well read, can write quite eloquently, and is good at math.
English, French (Both Fluent)
Chance and Regina Thornton's Last Will and Testament
Despite a tradition mandated by their great grandfather, Ishmael Thornton, and perpetuated by Caleb Thornton, Chance chose to leave half of the Thornton ranch to his younger brother. Shade was also named as sole guardian and trustee for Chance's children, the only survivor of which were the five-year-old twins, Cody and Nettie. Quentin was left interests in the Thornton Legacy business assets with a stipulation that controlling interest would devolve to Chance's and Regina's children when they reached legal age.
Judge Mandrell's Ruling
In the best interests of the children, Judge Robert Mandrell set aside some of the dictates of the will. He stipulated that the twins' other uncle, Quentin Cantrell, would share guardianship of them and management of their extensive business interests. The judge also added a requirement that the two men hire a suitable woman to help care for the children stating that he would personally review the arrangements in six months' time.
Quentin's head reared back a bit and anyone who saw the motion might have imagined they could hear the warning rattle of a diamondback. Quentin was not expecting deference or anything from the Army. He had been a part of that organization and knew how it viewed civilians in general, but this officer was doing a pretty fair job of angering everyone not in a uniform in very short order.
"Dinner sounds excellent, Major...I will be happy to accompany my friends this evening..." Quentin glanced at Addy and Harriet. "...I even brought a bottle with me on the trail drive to celebrate the end of the drive. I would be pleased to contribute it to the evening."
Quentin heard some orders being given and turned to look over at the commander. He saw him detailing men to check the indians and then heading in the direction of where they had come from. He jogged back over to his horse and thanked Addy as he mounted again. He looked over at Harriet and the others. "We might be able to save something of this after all...HAHHHH!" He kicked Paladin into a gallop and raced up along the column to rein up next to the commander. "Sir! If I might make a request?"
Quentin kicked his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground beside Paladin. "Much obliged..." He nodded to Addy then looked around at the others as they dismounted. "We'll stay here and defend the wagons...no need to wander around and get in the way of the troopers..." Quentin finished reloading his Winchester and moved over to one of the wagons that faced toward the approaching Indians. He rested the rifle on the corner of the wagon and aimed along the barrel, firing a few rounds at any Indians that seemed to be drifting their way.
The volleys from the triple line drew Quentin's gaze and he gave a single head tilt. "Brave...not sure how smart he is, but definitely brave..."
Quentin looked around at the milling activity. Their group had circled around the end of the column and moved toward the wagons as they organized their circle. Quentin was thumbing more rounds into his Winchester as he cradled it while guiding Paladin. The small group reined up at the wagons and Quentin looked up to where an officer was forming a firing line, but it seemed very small from where they were. Quentin finished reloading and then looked around, seeing the others were safe and uninjured.
Quentin's relief turned to puzzlement as his eyes stopped moving and settled on one of the wagons nearby "...Addy?"
Quentin heard the occasional snap as a round came near, but with him riding hard and the Indians also mounted and galloping, the chance of getting hit by a bullet was like getting hit by lightning...it might happen, but it wasn't something you could spend time worrying about. Quentin looked ahead and realized that Harriet and the hands were up to something, and as he drew still closer Quentin could see Weems working to get mounted. Realizing what was going on and knowing from his own experience that the Indians were bearing down far too quickly to give them the time they needed, Quentin reached down and yanked his Winchester from the saddle scabbard, flipping it up and into his hand in a better grip before he leaned up and back, left hand pulling rein to slow Paladin and turn him around to face the oncoming scatter of hostiles. Paladin reared then came back down, freezing as much as a horse could as Quentin's boot toe bumped his foreleg.
Quentin worked the lever and brought the rifle to his shoulder. He aimed at the closest mass of horse and rider and his finger curled on the trigger. The rifle (Quentin carried a full 24 inch barrel unlike most with 20 inch carbines), barked and the horse in the distance reeled as the rider went flying from inertia. Quentin was already working the lever and aiming again, firing at another Indian, levering, then firing with an economy of motion as he took the leading riders under fire. Paladin shivered a few times and his muscles twitched in reaction to Quentin's firing and the oncoming attackers. Quentin himself would probably have been terrified if he took the moment to think about what he was doing, but he had a lot more on his mind. Once the Indians closed to under a hundred yards, Quentin reined Paladin around and let his horse run as it must have wanted to. He only caught a glimpse of three or four Indians down or on foot after losing horses, but that was better than he hoped for when he had stopped.
Quentin rode Paladin in a lazy back and forth path behind the herd, not hurrying the animals but keeping them moving. They had had to slow down a bit when they realized the cattle were losing weight. Forage for them was not as plentiful as they had hoped when they set out, and the last thing Quentin wanted was the army to start whining about how skinny their cows were. The only control they had was not to work them too hard on the trail.
He angled his horse away from the herd and circled around the edge closest to Harriet. Quentin reached up and tugged his bandanna from his neck and used it to wipe at the sweat on his face. As he pulled the cloth down his eyes caught motion past Harriet in the brush on the other side of the creek. Normally he might have brushed it off as an animal, but most game animals and even predators tended to stay farther away from a herd on the move. Quentin saw no flashes of reflection so figured it was Indians instead of rustlers. He smiled and nodded to Harriet as ht wheeled Paladin around to sit his mount beside hers with their backs to the water.
"Harriet..." Quentin said in a steady tone without changing his expression or looking back in the direction of the creek, "...Do not look or react, but we are being watched from the other side of the creek."
Harriet was able to do as Quentin said. His quiet tone had been the first hint that something was not quite right. It was far different from the querulous one that both used to speak to one another. Her many years of training with Fang had taught her how to be still and not react automatically. This meant she was able to prevent herself from looking around. However, her heart did speed up. She had little experience with Indians beyond the members of the Crow nation that were both friends and blood kin to the Thorntons.
"My guess would be Indians, because I think one picked the wrong moment to move or I still would not know they were there..." Quentin said as they slowly began to walk their horses back toward the herd. "You need to ride over and let them know what's going on, and tell Weems also..." Quentin suddenly reared upright in his saddle. "I don't CARE what you want, woman!..." He roared. "I told you to go let the others know when I plan to camp! Now do as I say!"
This time Harriet could not prevent herself from reacting instinctively. Her usual indignation was sublimated by the rampant memories of her childhood and her father's frequent anger when she did something he disliked. It gave her time to gather her wits and although she glared at Quentin, promising retribution at some point, Harriet whirled Spirit around and sank spur.
Quentin watched her ride off. He knew his little show was so she could get started back without the indians suspecting she was going to warn the others, but he also had seen her expression as she reacted to his words. As long as she had a chance to get back to some relative safety, Quentin figured he could live with some anger down the road. Quentin reined Paladin around in a leisurely fashion so he stood sideways to the river. Quentin reached into his jacket and tugged out the small leather holder and extracted one of his cigarillos. He bit off the end and stuck it in his mouth as he pulled one of the lucifers from the small tin he kept in the leather holder. Quentin struck it off his belt buckle and held it to the end of the cigarillo, puffing it a few times to make sure it was burning. He then shook the match out and let it fall. He lifted his head and blew out a cloud of smoke as he let his gaze drift along the far bank. Quentin hoped that his staying where he was would make them wait.
After about two minutes had passed, Quentin let out a smoke tinged breath he did not realize he had been holding. Maybe this would work...Maybe...
A puff of white smoke from the far bank cut off his musing and a bullet passed within a few feet...the hiss and snap was something you never forgot after the first time it happened. "Well, Hell..." Quentin muttered as he wheeled Paladin around and spurred him so the horse sprung into motion, galloping hard after Harriet in the distance as the rising sound of yelps and gunshots rose behind him.
My two cents, but maybe its some old Spanish looted gold...maybe some caravan headed North to keep searching for other sources of gold and they stored their cache somewhere before continuing on, but then something bad happened...sickness or other indians or both?
Location: Trail from Kalispell to Fort Poison, south end of Flathead Lake. When: Early September 1875 Time of Day: Evening
Harriet felt as if she had been in the saddle for three days instead of just several hours. She was used to driving and managing a high-strung team of horses, not sitting on one for hours at a time. She guessed she was going to have to toughen up and get used to it. After all, Montana was the life she was choosing. She sat down a bit gingerly on the blanket she had spread earlier for dinner. The man driving the supply wagon agreed to do the after-dinner cleanup, but refused to cook. Surprisingly, she and Quentin had managed a good meal between the two of them. More surprising yet, no one had died. She leaned forward and grabbed the spare coffee pot that she had brought along for heating water to wash with and brew tea. She ladled tea leaves into two tea-balls, dropped them into cups, and poured hot water over them. Without asking, she handed one over to Quentin.
"I don't see how Reggie did this. More than that, I don't see how she could love driving cattle!" Harriet glanced toward where the sounds of restless cows could be heard. "Stupid beasts!"
"Now, Harriet..." Quentin said as he took the cup of tea and sipped. "...We have spent most of the day chasing them around and wearing ourselves out...I'm not sure which is the stupid beast." Quentin shifted on his blanket as his leg muscles muttered in protest but he was not about to let on that he was sore as well. He had spent straight days in the saddle back in the war but admittedly straight riding with the occasional battle was not nearly as exhausting as herding cattle.
"I think Shade let that bear knock him about on purpose," Harriet stated emphatically. "He had best still be hobbling about when we get back."
"If he is walking around normally when we get back, you have my permission to return him to limping status." Quentin settled back more and rested his hat farther forward so it shaded his eyes as he settled back against the side of his saddle on the ground.
She carefully leaned back against the fallen log. "I wonder how far we got today? Do you think we will get to Poison tomorrow?"
The younger of the two hands had a sudden coughing fit while the wagon's driver, a much older gentleman's mustache twitched with amusement, "Ma'am, at this rate, we'll be lucky to get there within the week."
Quentin looked thoughtful then nodded. "That sounds about right, barring outside interference, although we might be a little slower each day if we feel like this at the end of each one..."
Sagas of the WIld West is a roleplaying game set in a fictionalized version of the town of Kalispell in Montana territory. Our stories begin in 1875 and are set against the backdrop of actual historical events.Sagas was inspired by the classic television and movie westerns. Our focus is on writing, storytelling and character development.
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