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 snapped up at the sound of the shot. He held the wagon reins as it trundled along at a steady pace and his other hand dropped down to the butt of his Colt. He kept listening but heard nothing else. He left the Colt in place and sighed. He could guess what that shot was for so he waited patiently as the wagon covered the distance. Finally he crested the hill and he saw Brendan standing there over Billy. Quentin stopped a few yards away and climbed down. He walked a few steps closer but kept an eye on Brendan. People in his situation weren't beyond doing foolish things. After a minute of looking at the young man, Quentin spoke.
"Brendan...I'm sure Billy is grateful for what you did. I am glad he had a friend with him at the end." Quentin moved closer before he spoke again.
"I need to bring the bodies back to town so we can clear all this up with the Marshal, but I think you should have anything you wish to keep from any of them, including the money..." Quentin gave Brendan a moment after he said that. "You can also have all the horses and saddles...you can sell anything or everything and keep the money. Use it to start fresh. Get away from Evergreen and become your own person, Brendan. You owe it to Billy to make it worth what happened..."
Quentin looked at Brendan and his eyes caught the stain on his shirt. "I should look at that wound before we get started for town. It looks like it's still bleeding."
Blackjack hushed them both, "It don't matter none now. I know this Cantrell from a past we shared. He is gonna kill us all. Don't you think he's gonna just take us back inta town where it's our words against his. No, he is a killer...I oughtta know. I'm one too."
Now he shouted back as loudly as he could.
"HEY CANTRELL ! IT'S ME! BLACKJACK LAINE! YOU REMEMBER ME! I REMEMBER YOU!"
"YOU WANT GREER? THEN COME AND GET HIM! WE ARE GONNA BLAST YOU TO HELL N' BACK! UNLESS YOU TURN TAIL AND RUN LIKE A COWARD!"
Cantrell's head reared back a bit as he thought about what the man said. After a few seconds his eyes widened in recognition.
"JACK?...NOBODY CALLED YOU BLACK JACK BUT YOURSELF! YOU CAN'T STOP PICKING THE WRONG SIDE, CAN YA?" Quentin took another breath
"THIS IS A LONG WAY FROM KANSAS, JACK! DON'T YOU BE A DAMN FOOL!"
Blackjack smirked then yelled back, "WHO IS THE FOOL HERE? IT'S ONE AGAINST FOUR! WE LIKE OUR CHANCES!"
Greer started up a disturbing chuckling.
Quentin's eyes narrowed. "THERE WERE FIVE OF YOU IN ABILENE, JACK!...HOW DID THAT WORK OUT?"
Billy stared at their self-appointed leader so Blackjack turned to the others and explained, "He and his bushwhacked us."
Brendan shook his head resignedly and adjusted his grip on his rifle. "Hell, why'd you get us into this, Greer?"
Greer huffed, "I got bushwhacked too!"
Brendan searched the rise with his eyes to see if he could see where Quentin was hiding. "Ain't you gonna answer him, Blackjack?"
Blackjack now raised his Winchester to his shoulder and looked down the sights, aiming it up along the crestline, "I'll answer him alright. Let's give the sonofabitch a reply he'll understand!"
Then he opened fire, pumping three rounds up there as fast as he could work the lever and bring the rifle up to aim the next shot. Greer joined in too, firing a couple shots too.
Quentin was just raising his head back up to take a look when the first shot rang out. It was joined by others and what had to be at least one more rifle. He ducked back down as he heard a few faint snaps as the rounds passed nearby but not too near. It looked like they had no idea where he was at the moment and were just fishing. Quentin rolled onto his stomach and crawled up just to the crest. He rested the Winchester on the edge, left hand cradling the forearm as he settled behind the stock. Quentin looked the wagon over and saw the drifting smoke from two spots...figuring that might be Greer and Jack. Quentin kept watching and soon saw at least two more movements. He nodded to himself. Those two might not be so eager to participate in a gunfight.
Quentin sighted and exhaled, then his finger curled around the trigger. The Winchester puffed a small cloud of white smoke as he fired at the one with what looked like an old muzzle loader. He glimpsed wood fly as the round struck near him but Quentin wasn't looking to kill anyone who didn't buy a ticket to this dance. He worked the lever a few more times, sending a total of three rounds into the wagon side and frame. After the last shot he crawled back below the crest and began crawling to the right, taking his hat with him because he knew bullets would be coming back at the spot the smoke came from.
So far only Blackjack and Greer were firing. Billy was just standing behind the wagon, taking in this first time situation for him, he was in an actual gunfight where people were trying to kill people? It was a lot to grasp.
A shot now struck the wagon, much closer to Brendan though than him. Still, he couldn't help but flinch. Another two shots whacked into the wooden sides of the wagon then. One of them caused a few splinters to fly and one struck him in his bare chest.
"Ow!" it stung but nothing more than a scratch as he glanced down. Still he knelt then by the back wheel.
Blackjack snapped at the pair, "Don't just stand there you idiots. Gonna let yerself get shot down like dogs. Shoot back!"
Billy now took a deep breath, cocked back the Spencer and popped up. Resting the carbine on the wagon he then fired at the smoke on the horizon. Since his was a single shot he ducked back down to lever it and recock it.
Meanwhile Greer blazed away like a madman, he was using up his magazine capacity at a quick rate.
Brendan heard the whine of a bullet and flinched as a few splinters grazed his cheek. "Shit!" He fired a shot in the direction of the smoke from Quentin's shots and then ducked down behind the wagon and swiped his arm across his face. His bicep was bloody in two places when he looked at it: one from his face and one from a splinter in his arm.
Greer and Blackjack seemed to be holding down the fort all right, so he edged around them to the front of the wagon and started undoing the harnesses of the horses. He didn't think any of the other men would think about the horses, but he didn't want them in harm's way. He slapped their rumps to get them moving and then crawled back beside Billy, working to reload his gun.
"We shoulda just given him Greer," he muttered quietly.
Billy noticed Brendan got hit with splinters too, the drawback of using the wagon for cover it seemed. As for the man's opinion...
"Not gonna happen," Billy didn't like Greer much and hadn't for a long time now but he wasn't prepared to turn on him.
Quentin lifted his head up from the rifle, moving his finger from the trigger as he watched the young man shooing the wagon's team out of danger. He exhaled....No, that one isn't in this for the fight. Another round came from the wagon and Quentin's eyes narrowed. He swung the rifle around and fired off a few rounds, sending them at Greer with a lot less worry about where they will hit.
Quentin came up over the next rise and saw the wagon and he could faintly hear Greer screaming like a woman as he headed for it. A quick impression of men moving around the wagon told Quentin that the odds looked to be about to change against him. Quentin leaned back, pulling the reins and Paladin's head came up, back legs spreading as his front planted. The horse slid several yards on the grass and then Quentin yanked him around, spurring to the left and back behind the crest and below the level of the hill. He slid from the saddle and reached, dragging his Winchester from the scabbard and he patted a hand on the horse's rump. Paladin trotted down the hill toward the small valley behind as Quentin worked the lever as he crept back toward the crest. He dropped to all fours and reached to set his hat beside him as he eased up carefully, looking toward the treeline and seeing everyone was behind cover. Quentin chewed on his lip a moment as he considered his options, then he took a breath.
"BOYS! I JUST WANT GREER! HE TOOK A SHOT AT ME!...I DON'T HAVE A QUARREL WITH YOU ALL!"
Quentin finished reloading the Smith and snapped it shut. He looked back over at Paladin as another shot rang out. Quentin ducked but he also saw Paladin neigh and dance with a sudden motion. He had heard the faint snap of a round passing by but it didn't seem close to him. Hoof beats carried to Quentin's ears and he craned his head up to glimpse the horse disappearing over a nearby hilltop. Quentin exhaled and stood, shoving his revolver back into its holster. He then jogged over to Paladin, giving the horse a quick looking over but he didn't see any wounds or blood. Quentin swung up into the saddle and reined Paladin around before spurring him off in the direction Greer had ridden off.
Several seconds Quentin crested the rise and off in the distance he could see Greer. He was leaned back, hanging on to the reins as his horse galloped furiously. The man looked like a pile of clothes flying in the same direction as his horse, not like a man riding a horse. Quentin smiled and leaned over, arms down to the sides holding Paladin's reins as he lightly kicked his heels. Paladin stretched his own neck out as his feet erupted. The horse's powerful legs gathering and leaping in unison and the animal literally leaped from a lope to a flat out run. Quentin's eyes widened a bit and he held on tighter as his horse began to close the distance on the rider in the distance...this wouldn't take long...
Quentin Cantrell let Paladin find his own way down the side of the hill. The horse wound its way along the unstable slope until the ground flattened out at the bottom. Quentin turned Paladin to let the horse continue his pace but moving to cross the open meadow. The day already promised to be hot and Quentin had already learned how hot even a Montana summer can be.
After word of the Little Big Horn had reached Kalispell and the surrounding area, everyone was seeing Indians behind every tree and under every rock. The Lost Lake people were understandable worried after reading the lurid news stories and hearing the rampant gossip about the "Rampant Indian Uprising". Quentin did not consider himself an Indian expert, but he knew from his few dealings with the ones in this area that they weren't given to bloodthirsty rampages and his travels around the West in the past had shown him that the white man's idea of a "Savage Indian" usually started with something the white people did to them that made them so angry they were goaded into action.
But, regardless, Lost Lake was partly his and he was not about to take a chance on any Indian groups laying in wait on the land or massing to maybe attack the ranch or Kalispell. Quentin and Shade had organized the hands to act as scouts, riding out along the edges of the land looking for any signs of Indians, either camping or passing through. If they were to find such signs, they would immediately send riders into town and to the nearby fort to spread the alarm. So far, thankfully, nothing had been seen, either actual or sign of marauding Indians. Quentin had felt the nice morning air and decided to take one of the scout trips for himself, but the climbing sun was reminding him of how bad an idea it could be even this far north.
Quentin tugged rein and Paladin stopped in the meadow. Quentin sat his horse as Paladin fed on some of the summer grass and Quentin reached down and tugged one of his canteens loose. He twisted the cap off and lifted it up to take a drink. His head tipped back and he lifted the canteen just in time for the .44 rimfire round to smash into it. Water went everywhere and the canteen was smacked from his grasp at the same time the report of the rifle reached Quentin's ears. Reflex threw him to the side and he let himself fall from the saddle. Paladin bucked and neighed and hopped sideways as he felt Quentin fall. His horse was too well trained to flee and simply loped a few yards away to look back at his owner laying in the knee high grass.
Quentin lay sprawled in the grass, his Smith in his hand as he peered through the blades of grass back toward the direction the shot came from. His eyes narrowed as he watched carefully...gaze moving from left to right slowly before he saw the mounted man in the distance. Quentin squinted as the rider lowered his rifle to work the action and then it hit him as he saw the balding head...Greer. Quentin muttered a string of curses after deciding that he definitely should have shot that sonofabitch in the street that night.
Bringing the Smith up, Quentin aimed above Greer and let loose a few shots. He figured the sound of rounds passing by should keep Greer honest until he could figure out his next move.
"You pressin' charges, Quentin?" Speed asked, not knowing what the man had in mind. "If you don't then I will. Looks to me like the Circuit Judge'll have his hands full whenever he gets here." It would be a case load, that was for sure.
Quentin slid his revolver back into its holster as he thought about what the marshal asked. "I'm not sure if we should arrest that idiot or a bottle of whiskey from the saloon..." Quentin rubbed his chin. "...Ah, Hell, he did try and break my head for me, so sure, I'll swear out charges on Loudmouth. I guess the boy is only guilty of horrible judgement in who he follows around. I don't have anything on the kid...that's for you to decide."
"Okay, Billy is it? Pick him up an' walk ahead of me to Marshal's office. Believe we've on cell left that should do nicely." Pike looked at Quentin. "Nice piece of work Cantrell!" He shove Billy and the stunned Greer toward the jail. "Interrupted my dinner, ya did, I don't take to kindly to that."
Quentin smiled and raised a hand to his hat brim and gave a half salute to Pike. "Just happy to have been here to help. I do hate uneven fights."
It was then he spotted Flandry, and nudging Quentin stepped over to him. "Didn't get a chance to thank you for your actions earlier today, You and Quentin here made the difference, along with young Ryker. I think we've time for a drink before we head to the Hotel for that steak."
Quentin extended a hand to Ralph and shook it. "Marshal's right. You sure helped keep them busy until the law arrived. It's good to know other citizens stepped up..." Quentin then looked over at the marshal. "...I believe the deal was I buy the drinks and you buy the steaks!" He looked back at Ralph. "I know buying drinks for the bartender seems odd, but I owe you a drink or three as well. I'll leave you some money for Pike and Ryker to have a few later on if you don't mind helping me out?"
Pike came up to them and announced. "All locked up tight for the night. Be headin' back to my supper at the Lickskillet with Em. She had herself a day."
Quentin extended a hand to the deputy. "I was just buying everyone from earlier today a few drinks. I'll leave money with Ralph. Have a few on me when you have the chance?"
Quentin glanced down at Greer to assure himself the man wasn't faking his condition, then he looked back at Billy. "Let's start with your unfortunate choice in friends...now, you move real slow...and undo your gun belt with your left hand, and let it fall to the ground. Don't spook me, Boy...I spook...I shoot, you understand?"
Both men grabbed an arm at the shoulder and dragged Case into the Municipal building and to the cell block where they unceremoniously tossed him on the cot. The door clanged shut and turned in the lock. Both left the jail to join up with Quentin.
Quentin bided his time keeping Billy at the end of his revolver and watching the crowd of onlookers. He did let out an inner sigh of relief as he heard the doors bang open and Speed and his deputy re-emerged from the city building. As they approached Quentin looked at the deputy. "If you would be so kind and collect this gentleman's gun belt. His companion was...unable...to remove his, so you may want to collect it also."
And with that he took a swing, a big old round house right that just might have worked if the target was unprepared. Not quite the case though.
Quentin had been in more than a few fights, and when he was younger he had caught more than a few punches. One thing he had learned very quickly was that he didn't want to keep doing so. By learning from others, losing his share of fights, and even barely winning the rest...Quentin had learned when to make a punch get thrown. By making it happen he had found that he could control a lot more of what happened afterward instead of getting taken by surprise.
Greer was drunk and large...neither of which were useful without any skill. Quentin's knees were already bending as the the big man's punch whipped by over his head. The momentum of the punch drawing Greer forward and past Quentin's right side. Quentin straightened and his right hand came up and over, backhanding the barrel of his Smith down into the side of Greer's neck and head. The solid thump was audible to several people nearby and Greer went down like a sack of grain to lay in the dirt, moaning.
Quentin turned and swept the pistol back up, thumbing the hammer back and ending up looking over the sights at the smaller cowboy who had been standing near Greer.
"That's our boss and you ain't got no damn badge, you can't tell us what to do!" Greer snarled.
Quentin gave a slow smile. "Does me not having a badge make me less dangerous...or more?" His glance darted to the younger companion of the big mouth before him, but he looked to have already decided not to try anything for the moment. Quentin turned his attention back to the bigger man again.
"But just so you know, I've been helping the marshal all day so as far as you're concerned I am wearing a badge until he says I'm not..." Quentin's eyes narrowed "...You look a little less sure of yourself when you're not pushing a girl around. I'm not a girl and my back isn't turned...what are you gonna do now, big mouth?"
Quentin's eyes moved over the crowd of various onlookers as he looked for any problems. Case had his hands full with the unsteady and still muttering Case. Purposeful movement at the rear of the crowd caught his eye and he saw a pair of cowpunchers pushing through the loose gathering. A tall mean looking sort and a smaller, more reticent one right behind him. Quentin let out a breath along with a quiet curse as he realized both were heading right for Speed with definite intentions.
Dropping the reins of the horses he had been leading, Quentin pushed through the crowd, his right hand moving subtly as he walked, sliding his Smith and Wesson from its holster and holding it down along his leg, out of sight of the two as he arrived between the lead man and Speed. "Boys...I'm pretty sure this is none of your business. Marshal is just doing his job. Go on about your business if you don't want to join that man in a cell..."
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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