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.
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..."
"HARRIET!" Quentin's voice roared through the house. The two of them could hear footsteps coming down the stairs to the first floor. "HARRIET!" His voice actually gained some volume on the second roar. They heard the steps coming down the hallway and suddenly Quentin walked past the doorway, his mouth opening again. "HARR-..." He stopped past the doorway and then stepped back, planting himself in the frame and looking at her. "Oh, there you are..." Quentin glanced over and nodded at Shade. "Morning..." His head then tracked back to Harriet. "What in the hell is this...?" Quentin held up a half crumpled piece of paper. "...This was on my door this morning...I am most certainly not going to go on a cattle drive or have you taken leave of your senses?"
Harriet had immediately bristled when she heard Quentin bellowing her name. She sat up in the chair and sensed more than saw Shade slump back in his although he acknowledged Quentin's greeting with a wave of his hand. Harriet's eyes flashed pure fire and she loaded as much sarcasm into her tone as she was capable of. Since her ability to be scathing was legendary, this was a prodigious amount of sarcasm.
"Then who do you suggest to lead the drive?" Harriet's tone was as condescending as she could manage. "Unless, of course, you are recommending that Mr. Thornton make the trek to Fort Poison and back?"
"What are you talking about? Of course Shade can't go on a cattle drive, but we have a ranch full of hands to do just this sort of thing. Why can't any of them run it?" Some of the steam had gone out of Quentin's charge as he realized that something might be wrong that needed to be fixed. Quentin glanced over at Shade. "Why are we taking cattle to Fort Poison?"
Shade tapped the sheaf of papers that Harriet had tossed onto the desk, "Because Chance has a contract to supply them twenty-five head every month from April through October. Ezra handled July and August."
Harriet glared at Quentin, "And the contract calls for a senior ranch representative to bring the herd to the fort. Foreman or higher in rank. Since neither Ezra nor Shade can go, you are the only one left that can represent the owners, Cody and Nettie...unless you are suggesting they make the drive?"
Quentin's eyes narrowed and he spared a look at Harriet. "I am aware who the senior ranch representatives are, Counselor..." He then looked over at Shade. "Twenty-Five head doesn't sound too bad. Who else can I take with me?"
"Nick Hale and Reuben Smith," Shade answered. "And, Harriet Mercer." He leaned further back in his desk chair, carefully adjusting his injured leg, and waited for the explosion.
Quentin started to nod then his head came up. "HER? Absolutely Not!..."
"That sounds ... Wait! WHAT?!" Harriet's tone was strident.
Shade grinned, "Sounds like a plan. I'll let the men know. Four of you should be able to handle a herd of twenty-five head."
Quentin slowed until he could see Shade half laying down near some rocks and brush. He slung his rifle across his back while he covered the remaining distance and dropped down beside Shade, helping him lay back down and stop trying to get up. He heard running and glanced up as Aurelian arrived next to him. Quentin looked back at Shade as he ran his hands along the other man's clothes. There were bloodstains all over but there did not seem to be any marks on his torso. Quentin kept moving down and checking but his hand stopped above one thigh as he felt the heat from the blood. He saw the slow but steady oozing around the fabric. He moved on down but could find no other damage.
"Looks like the bear got his leg pretty good. He's not walking out of here. You best go grab some of the mounts and the others and get back here. Bring the medical supplies!"
Quentin sat on one knee up the hillside, still several dozen yards short of the bear. He had realized he was never going to catch the running avalanche, so he had slid to a stop and knelt. He had snugged the trapdoor to his shoulder and fired, seeing a puff of red erupt from the body. He popped the breech, thumbed in another round, cocked the hammer and fired, not seeing an impact because of the haze of smoke around him. Quentin popped the breech and thumbed another round home. He pulled the hammer back to full cock as he realized that suddenly things were quiet. His ears rang from the punishing bangs of the rifle as he peered through the smoke. Quentin rested his thumb on the hammer and pulled the trigger, easing the hammer down to rest on the breech.
The white haze cleared slowly and he saw the mass of bear laying still. He could see a few people around it, but he was unsure who at this distance. One of them turned and waved their rifle over their head. Quentin exhaled and waved his empty hand toward them. The smile that started to spread across his face fell off like broken glass as he saw Shade's horse standing far on the other side of the dead bear and their own spare mounts.
"SHADE!" Quentin roared, turning and running back along the trail toward where their column had been when the monster had attacked.
Quentin swore as he reined Paladin uphill out of the milling mass of horses and people. He had relaxed a bit, drifting back in the column as the pace of the ride had lulled him a bit after so many hours of no activity. The sudden outburst up front had to be that monster attacking the front of their group. He turned Paladin and moved parallel to the trail as he brought the Trapdoor Springfield up, using his boots in the stirrups to bring the horse to a halt. He could feel the horse's nervousness and honestly, he didn't blame him one bit.
Quentin's eyes narrowed as he spotted the fast moving bulk racing back along the trail toward the mobile remuda further back. He swung the rifle as his thumb dragged the hammer to full cock. He led the dark brown bulk as best he could and fired. The Springfield belched a cloud of white smoke and he saw a puff of red mist erupt from the bear's side behind its left foreleg. Quentin knew his uphill position meant the round had not hit anything vital as it penetrated. His hands flipped the trapdoor breech up and the empty round spun out with a metallic ping. Quentin fished out a fresh round and thumbed it in as he kicked his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. He began running along the hillside, glimpsing the large rear of the grizzly as it bounded ahead of him.
Quentin rode at the front. He nodded at Shade and turned to the next one in line. "Shade says we should rest the horses...pass it on." He eased his mount over to the side and looped his reins over a thick tree branch. He then walked toward Shade with his Trapdoor cradled in his arm so the barrel was pointed safe. He had a round in the chamber and the hammer down but ready to fire at a moment's notice. He had replaced his usual hideaway pistol with an Arkansas Toothpick he had had for years. The Trapdoor's bayonet hung beside it for ease of draw. Quentin's Schofield was still on his hip just because he felt naked without it. The Trapdoor pistol sat in a holster slung around his saddle horn.
Quentin walked up to stand behind Shade and to one side. "How long since it came by here?" He said quietly. Quentin knew it was foolish to speak low with a party this size and all these mounts, but his superstitious side still won out. Quentin wasn't one to tempt fate if he could help it.
Quentin yawned as he reined up outside the bunkhouse. He looped the reins around the post and stepped inside. He looked around and saw Shade and motioned to him.
Shade added more coffee to his cup and walked over to Quentin, "What's up?"
Quentin stood beside a buckboard as Shade walked up. "Several days ago, I took a trip to the fort. I figured we might need any advantage we can get..." He reached and flipped off a tarp and pushed the lid off the long crate under it. He reached in and lifted out a rifle. "The Commanding Officer was kind enough to allow me to buy a case of these Trapdoor rifles. There are four plus he let me buy a case of cartridges." Quentin reached under his coat and pulled a round from his bandolier and held it up. "It's .45-70. Not as powerful as some of the weapons we have for the hunt, but the Trapdoor can fire faster than some of those. It may come down to more rounds into that bear as opposed to one big one."
Shade uttered a low whistle. He leaned down and hefted one of the rifles, giving it an admiring look while he tested it for balance. He was impressed with the feel of the gun and with Quentin's effort in getting them. There was no doubt that they had probably cost a pretty penny, but in the end they were good additions to the ranch's arsenal. Shade had to admit, he wanted to be the fly on the wall when Quentin handed the receipts in to Harriet for payment. He almost grinned.
Quentin reached into the crate and tugged out a length of three sided steel. He held the spike bayonet near the end of the Trapdoor's barrel. "And if it's too close for comfort, you can always use this thing like a spear to protect yourself."
"Having seen that ornery critter, I plan on not getting that close," Shade said although the precaution made sense.
Quentin then made a sound and reached for a small bag beside the crate. "I got these made at the Gunsmith..." Quentin tugged out what looked like an oversized dueling pistol. "This is a Trapdoor conversion of an old style pistol. The system is the same and it uses the same ammunition. You lose some velocity with the shorter barrel, but it kicks harder than our revolvers ever could." Quentin handed the pistol toward Shade. "I want you to take this. You don't have to take the rifle if you want, but take the pistol..." Quentin glanced around then back to Shade. "This bear is something unusual. People might die today before it's dead, and I don't want it to be you or me...okay?"
"I don't want it to be any of us," Shade replied solemnly as he took the pistol. He lowered his voice, "Thanks for going the extra mile for us, Quentin. I will take one of the trapdoors. Need to make sure Addy has one of the Sharps or one of these." He paused and thought for a second, "Since she has the pack string, she might need one of the pistols?"
Quentin nodded. "She's welcome to one if she wants it. Might be easier to manage with the job she has."
Quentin watched Jonah and Harriet walk into the dining room arm and arm and refrained from rolling his eyes with great effort. He leaned over and dug into the food in front of him, maybe using his silverware a bit more than necessary as he attacked his food. Quentin told himself it was partly from hunger, but he also did not follow that train of thought too closely because he was damned if he could think of any other reason to be angry at what that woman did. He did straighten up and listen when Harriet asked about Ezra. For everything else he might be feeling at the moment, he did appreciate the effort the doctor had put into saving Ezra's life.
Quentin lost track of the time he spent helping take care of Ezra. It was just like after any of the fights his regiment had been in during the war. Everything after was just a blur of work and sleep and being exhausted until all the men had been cared for. Quentin came back from the kitchen, feet shuffling from his tiredness. He had removed his shirt after working on Ezra, the bloody garment ending up with all the other clothing and bedclothes to be cleaned or burned as the case might be for saving the items. He had a few small spots on his undershirt but comparatively it was very clean. Quentin glanced into the bedroom and saw several people hovering around. Quentin figured another person crowding the room was not needed. He wandered along the hall and turned into the study. He walked over and dropped into what was one of his favorite overstuffed chairs for reading.
"I'll just relax for a few minutes and then I will check around the ranch to make sure everything is..." Quentin's thoughts trailed off as he was asleep within a minute of settling into the chair.
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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