Tristram Kelly

[Deleted]

Tristram Henry Kelly






"Iuventus stultorum magister"

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Full Name - Tristram Henry Kelly
Nicknames/Alias - N/A
Age - 30
Date of Birth - August, 14
Place of Birth - Monument, Aberdeen
Gender - Male
Sexual Orientation - Heterosexual
Affiliation - Himself (neutral)
Occupation - Gambler

Play-By - Ewan McGregor
Build - Slender 
Height & Weight - 5' 11"/ 165 lbs
Hair - Brown, short, messy
Eyes -  Grey
Unique Features - N/A
Dressing Style - Traditional "Old West" wear
Other - These be his guns. He wears them to favor a cross draw, with a shoulder holster on his left side.

Likes - Gambling, Drinking, Women, Showing off, Riding, and any combination of the aforementioned
Dislikes - Overbearing Authority, Self Righteous People, Boredom, Cocky people that aren't him, Losing at the tables, 
Quirks/Habits - Smoking hand rolled cigars, Whistling old ballads, Deadpanning in serious situations
Fears - That day he becomes too slow
Secrets - Borderline illiterate
Strengths - Poker, Dueling, his dexterous hands, Horseback Riding, Marksmanship (pistols only)
Weaknesses - Has the propensity for drinking himself stupid, Brawling (he's not very good), Mechanical work (do NOT let him near the engine)
Talents/Special Abilities - Quick Draw, Pistol tricks (twirling his pistol and stuff), Sleight of hand
Aspirations -  Well, there is that guy that killed his father. Yes, it's cliche, but Aberdeen is a rough place. Stuff happens. Also, to lie with women and acquire platinum.

Overall Personality - Tristram is generally a good natured guy, but he does have a pronounced edge. He has a love of music, and will sometimes absentmindedly whistle, usually old ballads from Earth-that-was. He's not much of a brawler, but if a fight does break out, he uses his wits and what has been called "dirty tricks" to ensure he and his comrades have the upper hand. He loves his drink and he loves his women. He prefers to try and woo said strumpets instead of just looking for girls with a price tag. He likes the challenge. Maybe one day he'll settle down, but it'll take a mighty special woman to accomplish that. He's a little too laid back, often times only getting serious when the bullets start flying, and often not even then. He is very cocky, and loves his drink. He is quick to draw his gun if he thinks a situation is going south, and has no qualms about pulling the trigger, but he will only kill if he thinks it's necessary. As far as a moral code... he's pretty flexible.

Father - Sean Henry Kelly
Mother - Zara Lynn Kelly (died in childbirth)
Siblings - Remember, not everyone is an only child, but Tristram is.
Other Significant People - He's kind of all he's got
Pets - I mean, he has a horse.

Your History - Tristram was born on Aberdeen, in a mining town by the name of Monument. His father, Sean, worked as a hand at the Bar 7 ranch a few miles north of town. He spent a lot of his childhood skipping school and hanging out in the saloon, watching the adults play cards. To say he got away with it isn't entirely accurate, as he was often found out and punished, but it went on until he was thirteen. His father decided if he wasn't going to go to school, he was going to learn to work. Sean started taking young Tristram to the ranch every day, teaching him how to ride properly, how to mend fences, care for the livestock, and other basic tasks, as well as how to handle a pistol. The boy hated the hard work, but he loved it when his father and the other hands would take him to the saloon after a long day. They'd show him how to play the card games he watched as a child, and he became a decent hand at the tables.

When he was seventeen, he was engaged in a poker game against other bar patrons. After winning a few hands, one of the other men at the table seemed to be riled up by losing to "a little shit". He called the young man everything but a child of God, screaming that he'd been cheated, and how he oughta put a bullet in Tristram's chest. Of course, Sean wasn't one to put up with anyone threatening his boy. He was up out of his chair in a heartbeat, and yelled at the man to go outside. The other ranch hands, as well as Tristram, tried to dissuade Sean, but he was a stubborn man whose hot temper had only been exacerbated by the threatening of his only living family. The saloon patrons followed the two men out into the street, where they squared off. Tristram pleaded once more with his father, but while Sean was distracted by his son, the stranger started to draw. Sean went for his gun, but the other man had the jump on him. Tristram didn't hear the gunshot. He only saw the blood blossoming on his father's chest. Now, a duel is legal and above board by Aberdeen law, but there are rules. If you're watching, you're silent. Period. If you're dueling, you don't draw when a man isn't facing you. The former is mostly etiquette, but the latter is what separates a duel from murder. The crowd was calling for a rope, but the stranger was able to get to a horse and ride out of town. A small posse gave chase, but they lost him in the dark. Tristram had gotten his father killed, and his murderer had gotten away. It was a day after he laid his father in the ground that he crawled into a bottle.

He spent the next twelve years in that bottle, drifting from town to town, making a survivable living at the card tables. He practiced his pistol work daily, getting quicker and more accurate, preparing for the day he found the stranger from so many years ago.

What should we call you? - Tris
Roleplaying Experience - 2 years online, 2 years tabletop, 2 years LARP
Where did you find us? - I was around for the inception
Prove Yourself - Wulvwudp Khqub Nhoob
Post Script -
Other characters - Frankie Crocetti
How we should contact you - PM

Roleplay Example - 
"Looks like the pot is mine, fellas."

Tristram gathered up the pile of plat, watches, and other valuables at the center of the table. He'd been in Mesa for a week, now. There were hundreds of mining towns, if not more, and this one wasn't any different. Everything of import was right on the main drag. There was the sheriff's office, a small town bank, doctor, general store, and a few other buildings. Most importantly, there was a saloon. This particular saloon was a wonderful place where the women were cheap, the drinks were cheaper, and there was no shortage of miners and other working men looking to gamble their wages away. Now, Tristram had not partaken of the former, but took full advantage of the last two. He lost a few hands his first couple days in town, but as he played with the men, he learned their tells. After that, he was walking away with a profit every night. Normally, someone would have gotten all fussy about this stranger taking all their hard earned money, but after more than a decade of living off the tables, Tristram had learned how to stay in the good graces of the men he was hustling. If you take their money, they'll get mad, but if you then use that money to set everyone up with a few rounds, the hot heads simmer down and enjoy the "free" drinks.

Usually.

Tonight, a big mountain of a man with a thick moustache and a red, bulbous nose had joined the game, and he wasn't happy with the hand Fate had dealt him on that fine evening. His chair overturned as he exploded to his feet

"Ain't no way you can win that many in a row! No one's that lucky!"

His eyes burned with rage as he glared across the table at Tristram. The gambler noticed a vein starting to surface on the man's forehead, and the rest of his face turned colors to match his nose. Tris gave the man a puzzled look and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Poker is a thinking man's game. Takes lot'sa skill. Maybe you'd be better off skippin' rope with the schoolgirls."

The man's face grew a deeper shade of crimson, and the vein in his forehead was fully raised. His right twitched toward the butt of his gun.

"Aht!"

The man shaped mountain hesitated.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Might get yourself hurt something bad."

Enraged, the man reached for the pistol, and Tristram reached for his. Barely had the man gotten his hand to the butt of the revolver before the sharp report of Tristram's own piece sounded in the saloon. The force of the bullet spun Red Nose halfway around, the man clutching his now bleeding shoulder on the floor. 

"You cowardly sumbitch! Not even man enough to kill me!"

Tristram stood from his chair and walked over to the man as he tried to push himself up off the planks.

"You talk too much."

The gambler kicked the man's good arm out from under him, sending him face first back into the hard, wooden floor.

"Do yourself a favor. Stay down, huh?"

Tris spun his pistol twice around his finger before fluidly returning it to its holster. He returned to the table to stuff his pockets with his winnings, and tossed a few plat onto the bar to cover his tab.

"I guess that's it for this town. Gentlemen..."

He swept his hand in a dramatic bow.

"Good evenin', then."

SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this and she will happily hunt you down, rip out your spinal cord, and beat you to death with it if you steal her hard work and claim it as your own. especially since she will gladly share it with any and all who wish to use it, provided they leave her nice, little credit attached.

[Roger]