Utterly Mad

Name: Amy Ricochet
Age: [19]
Gender: Cow Girl!
Appearance: I have long luscious blonde locks, just like my mother! My eyes are as blue as the lake out back, and my face is mottled with freckles like a pig takin' a mud bath! I have a figure the shape of a slick bottle and my nimble hands are always on my round hips!

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Wearing: A big ol' leather hat fit for any Cow Girl keeps my face out of the blasted sun. I have a fine, brown leather, cut sleeve jacket over my pretty blue blouse! (Sewed it myself!) I have some patched up jeans that I've been wearing for some time now, so they're a bit dusty, and they're fallin' apart at the fringes, but they're cozy comfy! A white belt wraps around my oh-so-slender waist, and at my feet are my trust white boots with spurs on the back.
Holster: {Pistol}
Weapon: {Cowpoke Brand Revolver 6/6 Shots}
Ammo: {12 Pistol Bullets}
Inventory: {Sewing Kit} {Keys To The Hen Coop} {12 Dollars In Change!}

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Skills: {Sewing/Stitching} {Animal Care} {Charm} {Scavenging}
Traits: {Animal Lover} {Short Attention Span} {Jealous} {Nervous Under Pressure} {Fashion Is A Passion} {Family First} {Boy Googler}
Childhood: I spent most of my life caring for the animals. When I was seven, mama gave me the job of tossing out seeds to the chickens every morning before the sun reached midway in the sky. I loved to watch the chickens flock from their cute little homes and eat up! Then, as I got older, I was tasked with bringing out hay to the horses, milking the cows, and keeping watch for those pesky wolves! When I was 12, I had to learn how to fire a gun to make sure I could protect the coop from foxes and wolves. I didn't care for it much, so I picked up sewing instead! I still practiced with my siblings, mostly my father, but my weekends were all about sewing with mama!
Personality: I'm bubbly like cider but my heart is as soft as a pillow full of feathers! I have a bad habit of biting my nails when I'm stressed, or nervous, and sometimes I snap when I'm angry, but I'm still fun loving and happy-go-lucky. (And a little flirtatious. Watch out, Fellas!)

What will your posts be like?:

Amy slowly edged around the corner. She could hear the bandit holding her dear sister hostage. Amy's heart raced as she heard her sister cry out between the fingers of the unknown man. The holster with her trusty pistol seemed like a mile away from her hand, and Amy was shaking too badly to touch it. Then, the bandit spoke.

"You better watch it, Missy. I'm gonna take care of you, then the rest of your family. Including your dimwitted sister." Followed by an evil cackle, Amy's world suddenly focused in. If she wasn't lookign at the world in HD before, she was seeing it in 3D now. Amy stepped around the corner and with placed her hand over her holster.

"Oh really now?" Amy said stepping out from the corner, her thumb cocked the pistol and she pulled it out of its cage before the bandit could turn around. Slowly, and with her hips moving side to side like she was on a runway, she fired at his legs, pulled the hammer, aimed, and shot right for his skull.

Name: John W. McShale {Ricochet? Christ how... Bleh.}
Age: 21
Gender: A bonafide Male, wanna check?
Appearance: John stands at an average 5' 9'', with green eyes and brown hair. He's got large shoulders and coolness in his eyes that would send shivers down your spine.

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Wearing: Wide-Brimmed hat, Leather Duster, Button-Up shirt, Slacks, Boots.
Holster: {Pistol}
Weapon: {Cowpoke Brand Revolver 6/6 Shots}
Ammo: {12 Pistol Bullets}
Inventory: {Half-Bottle of Whiskey} {Map} {Compass}

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Skills: {Shootn'} {Brawln'} {Bein' Toughest Son of a Gun you know} {Playn' Gitar (Guitar)}
Traits: {Tough} {Fast Hands} {Ice Cold Son of a Bitch} {Smokes} {Easy to Anger} {Deadly Protective of his Siblings} {Bit of a Drinkn' Problem}
Childhood: Grown' up on der ranch taught me bout like better than them ol' book learnings eva did. Taught me to look death in the face and tell to piss off fore I socked it in the jaw. Course Pa wasn't to keen when e' found that his ol' pistol went missn' and all his ol' bottle bit the dust. He beat me, though I know it was betta he focused his anger on me instead of Brother and Sister. I had to be the tough one. I always have been and always will be.
Personality: John is a half cocked gun ready to go off in the face of someone that pissed him off. His tough up-bringing and his feelings for his sister and brother make him the last person you'd ever want to cross. He'd socked you as much as he'd shake your hand.

What will your posts be like?: The Bandito had Sis by the neck, pointing his goddamn revovler at her pretty head. It wasn't the first them we've found ourselves in this situation with the same man, but it would be the last. As my ears were ringn' and I couldn't 'ear what he was saying but I could see that the dimwits revovler was cocked and the hammer was sitting on a blank [It was common practice due to revovlers going off to leave one spot empty. Of course, some morons didn't remember which slot was empty and would pull on a blank]. Quickly, I drew my pistol, I aimed for the gun in his hands and sent it flying with a shot. As he let go of Sis and yowled in pain, he took two more two the chest.

And done!

Name: Flynn Ricochet
Age: 17. "Ah' may be a young un', but I can still handle mah' self!"
Gender: Male. "Gee, mister! If y'all couldn't tell already, a'hma boy!"
Appearance: Flynn is pretty short - around 5"8, and has a bright, pale face with a messy brush of sandy-blonde hair. His eyes are a dim, blue colour, and he has a few small freckles placed on his somewhat gaunt cheeks. He isn't much of a muscular build, but his bony arms certainly look dexterous. His hands also have various scars on them - five finger fillet isn't a fun thing to practice, but at least he's great at it now! (RP Response:) "Bein' blonde's always been a thing in the family - ah've got me a messy brush of blonde hair... uh... suppose ah'm pretty good-lookin'... and... a-a-ah... (dangit, what colour are my eyes again?!)... pass...? AAAAMY! WHAT COLOUR ARE MAH' EYES AGAIN?!"

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Wearing: {Worn, White Stetson Hat} {Black Leather Gloves} {Rugged Leather Sleevless Jacket} {White Long-Sleeved Cotton Shirt} {Worn Leather Pack} {Plain Ol' Pants} {Boring Ol' Briefs} {Simple Ol' Sandals}
Holster: {Pistol}
Weapon: {Cowpoke Brand Revolver 6/6 Shots}
Ammo: {12 Pistol Bullets}
Inventory: {Trusty Hunting Knife} {Empty Leather Wallet} {Good Ol' Brass Harmonica}

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Skills: {Knives} {Skinnin'} {Trackin'} {Harmonica...in'}
Traits: {Dang Quick Fingers} {Speedy Runner} {Kinda Charmin'} {Pervy!} {A Lil' Weak} {Pretty Dumb} {Hydrofoobee... hydra... hydo... scared of water, a'ight?}
Childhood: Born with a large interest in knives and all sorts of dexterous tricks, Flynn's father was the first to teach him how to handle a knife when he was a kid. He got taught how to shoot a gun by his dear old pa' too, but Flynn wasn't an outstanding shooter - but damn, did he know how to handle a knife. When he grew up to his early teens, his ma' and pa' finally allowed him to go on hunting trips, where Flynn started to make his own skins and bring home meat at his early teens of around 15 years old, which made him stand out from the rest of them kiddies. Secretly when he hit the age of 16 and was finally considered somewhat of an adult, Flynn also used to make bets by playing Five Finger Fillet. He made quite a bit of cash; he speed and concentration with a knife was remarkable, and couldn't be matched by the other average ranchers. Finally growing up and discovering that thing called puberty, Flynn has grown to be very protective of his family, and will do whatever he can to repay his dear ol' ma', pa', sis' and [other family member to be added] for their love and support. But first... maybe one more quick match of Five Finger Fillet?
Personality: Flynn isn't too bright, but he still means well. He's generally kind, if a little cocky sometimes, and enjoys making other people entertained with whatever talents he can muster, even if he is a little loud. When needed, Flynn's concentration is quite remarkable, making him a good hunter known around the ranch. He's also got somewhat of a silver tongue when it comes to girls. He also gets angry quite easily, but it isn't very threatening - Flynn's voice is a little pathetic when raised.

What will your posts be like?: Flynn looked onwards with horror as his sister, held forcefully with a gun to her head, looked Flynn in the eye desperately. Balling his hand up into a fist and looking up at the bandit - his mouth hidden by a bandana and a chuckle coming from behind it, Flynn clenched his teeth as he began to shake with anger. Who was this darned punk, and what the hay did he think he was doing messing with his family! After everything his big sis' had done for him, he be damned if he'd let some average bandit kill her now!

"Y-you let go o' her, you sunava' gun! What chu' want from us anyways?!"

"You know what ah' want, you little punk! Yer' gonna' stand right there an' watch me kill your dumb sister, right in front o' yer eyes!" The bandit cruelly whispered, and dug the barrel of the gun into his sister's temple. Ain't nobody messing with Flynn's family like that - he may be the youngest, but he could still protect his darned family!

Flynn suddenly spat out of the side of his mouth with a grunt, and before the thug could even think twice, Flynn's quick fingers grabbed the knife at his belt, and with a quick, graceful flick, he threw the knife, aiming straight for the thug's eye.