'The Praetor'


        "A young, very ambitious man who's never really had any direction in life. after the destruction of his village, and death of his parents as a young child; he was sent to saint denis to learn the mind and methods of humans of the modern day."


  • Psychologically strategic & Brutally violent

  • Modern Day Education

  • Well spoken & Patiently Manipulative

  • Personally trained by the legendary gunslinger Landon Ricketts.

         The village my family originated in was vast. None of us as kids ever really bothered to familiarize  ourselves with the areas we resided in.. there was just no point. We grew up constantly on the move.It was either my father getting into arguments with unfriendly locals, OR some of My father's men taking things that simply didn't belong to them. Eventually my father had enough of their ways and told them they had to leave our village. Although not happy, they did so. My father always had this way of commanding respect that was just incredible to be witness to. Watching him make men bend to his will..


              Months later, on a hunting trip, my father and his remaining loyal friends along with myself came across it.. the horror.. the death.. The men that my father had ordered to leave had been slaughtered to death in their camp. Tents set a blaze. My father made me ride home alone. Said i wouldn't understand.. i was so young.Along the road home i was met by a man coming the opposite way. Ill never forget seeing him just standing out there in the middle of the road with no horse.Almost as if he had been waiting for me there. As i approached i tried to get around him but it was clear that he wanted me to stop. So i did.. he looked me in the eyes and told me that times in this world have changed.. and that we must change with it. I didnt know what he meant but before i could ask he turned his back and headed back into the treeline. I hurried home..



              That night i woke up to the sounds of screams and black smoke. We were under attack. I quickly grabbed my bow and my satchel and jumped out of my tent. There was so much fire i could barely see. The first thing i came across in the midst of the chaos was my father, on top of a man beating him to death, lying next to them was the lifeless body of my mother. It was then that i knew my life would never be the same. As My father continued beating the man, another man charged behind him and stabbed my father in the back with a machete clean through. I went to draw my bow and then i saw him.. the same man that i had ran into on the road. He tackled the man that had just stabbed my father, as i saw this happening, my mothers horse got loose off its hitch and blindsided me.. knocking me down. The last thing i saw before everything went black.. was the man holding my father in his arms.



            When i came to, it was quiet. The sun was hot. The sounds of birds and river water filled my brain. I wasnt home anymore. There was no home. I was in a new camp. With some familiar faces. The man i saw with my father was sitting at a campfire with 3 other boys from my village. I recognized all of them. The man realized i was awake and walked over to me. He introduced himself as Uncas. He explained to me that he knew my father and that they were close... little did i know... it would be years before he told me everything.. A few weeks past and not much happened..We showed Uncas our abilities as hunters.. as survivors.. but he never seemed too impressed with some of the cleverness we were able to show him.



             One day, Uncas came to my tent at midday and had a horse packed for me. He told me that there was something he needed me to do.. something he said that my father wanted me to do. He sent me to Saint Denis and told me that he wanted me to go to school there. He said, he wanted me to learn how the civilized people think. How they talk. How they interact with each other. He said i would use this experience sometime in the future. I didnt understand. I asked if i would ever see him again. He gave no answer.. and told me to go.


          Years past and i had grown to a young man. Life in Saint Denis wasn't all too bad. I learned how to talk quick and think even quicker. The streets talk and you had to learn how to listen.. fast. Being in this city brought with it challenges that I never even thought possible. So many people crowding the streets trying to get from place to place smashed together in such a small environment. People were easily bothered and no one seemed to care about each other at all. This attitude among people usually brought high tension violence extremely quickly. Robbing,Kidnapping, and fighting were commonplace here..but you were never really able to see it coming.

          I had never really had a problem with taking care of myself in a fist fight or using a bow but when it came to shooting a gun i always seemed to struggle with the weight and motions needed to be effective with it.Everyone had one, even some of the women around town..I knew i needed to not only

learn how to shoot a gun, but needed to learn how to do so quickly and accurately.



              I was 17 years old when one night I was in The Bastille saloon having a pint listening to the sounds of laughter & gambling. As i leaned up against the bar, a man approached me looking me straight in the eyes. It wasn't until my eyes met his did he decide to smirk at me. Before i could hit him with a snarky but witty comment he flipped a coin at me. I promptly caught the coin without thinking about it. He chuckled, then stood beside me at the bar. Before I could ask him what the coin was for he violently grabbed my right shoulder to force me to turn and face him directly. Without thinking, I reached for my holstered revolver on my left hip with my right hand. He quickly grabbed my right wrist and pressed a blade to my throat. It was so sharp that the act of him pressing it against my throat caused a cut. I was beat. It had been so long since anyone i'd met was one step ahead of me. Calm confidence is what had gotten me this far in life.. but in this moment I was clearly beaten at my own game.

            The Bartender behind the counter standing right in front of us cleaning a glass with a cigarette in his mouth calmly but sternly asked us, "is there a problem here gentleman?" the man with the blade still pressed against my throat responded: "the kids green...I seemed to have over-estimated him." Completely detached from the situation, the bartender doesn't respond and turns his back to us to continue working. All at once, the man let go of me, holstered his knife, and turned to the bar to face front and grab my drink. The man had long black hair and a handlebar mustache that had both already begun to grey. Dumbfounded by the situation that had just occurred i decided to play it cool..if he wanted me dead, it would've happened by now. I checked for a little blood on my throat as i turned to face the counter as well. I calmly asked while not looking at him but facing front: "do I know you friend..?" he sips my drink and then responds: "Me? However you do know an acquaintance of mine. A guy by the name of Angelo Bronte."



            Up to this point in my life. I had been nothing but a nightmare for Mr. Angelo Bronte...I couldn't help myself.. he was an endless supply of wealth who seemed to only get dumber with age. He had 6 "high level" goons under his wing who would bend and listen to his every word and demand. His criminal network was second to none in this city. What he lacked in wits, he made up for with connections.. But he didn't own everybody. It was easy enough getting those he had wronged over the years to rally against him just long enough for me to get away with the goods. His 6 'best men' with all their loyal followers and high flying titles proved to be even easier to turn against Bronte..I had been getting good at it by this point. My father always told me 'The key to a man's brain was his eyes. Watch their eyes to discover their true intentions..for they are not able to be hidden."

            "Never heard of em." I dismissively said as i grabbed my new drink the bartender placed for me.The man let out a skeptical but convinced laugh as he took another swig of my previous drink. He began to say something but exhaustively let out a sigh and lightly shook his head. He paused for a moment, then looked at me directly. He then aggravatingly asked me: "Do you even know how to use that thing son?" I then looked down at my holster while he chuckled. "You're right handed...if you ever want to be able to get to that thing without getting your head removed from your shoulders you'd best get a holster thats NOT for a lefty." Not really paying attention to his point I quickly but sternly asked him "Who are you?". The man continued to look forward and down away from my eyes. "You know, last week when Bronte sat me down on his thousand dollar couch and told me all about this crazy Indian who had been running circles around him from sun up to sun down, I almost didn't know who the hell to expect i'd see." He continued: "Based on how he told me about all the people he sent after you and some of the things they did when they found you, I half expected to see some renegade mad man..not some pretty faced kid with beauty marks on his face." I then released the tension in my shoulders and responded: "Yeah, well, you should've seen the other guys." He giggled and slammed the last of my first drink, pat me on the shoulder and said "lets go".

            I followed him out to his horse where he was riffling through one of his saddle bags for something; I lit a cigarette and watched him. He threw me a belt and said: "This is my old one, i just had it re-stiched..put it on." I looked at the belt in my hands with a cigarette still in my mouth..i then looked back up at him and impatiently asked him what his name was. The man said: "my name is Landon Ricketts.." he says as he closes his saddlebag.. "and i'm gonna teach ya." "Teach me what?" I curiously asked. Landon looked at me with a grin, "the way of the gun."





          Months later, i was hanging out outside of the Saint Denis gunsmith shop for what seemed like a lifetime. I had been people watching for so long that it almost felt like the people on the streets started to repeat. As i looked at my empty cigarette box with disappointment i heard the Gunsmith shop doors barge open. I looked over and Landon had a box in his hands. He quickly walked over to me and held it out in front of me with a determined look on his face. I glanced at him and then opened the box. I pulled out two twin blue metal Schofield revolvers with pearl grips & white engravings throughout them. I looked at Landon as i held both guns in my hands with a surprised look. "I see you've spoiled yourself today partner!" Before Landon could speak we were interrupted by a deafening and abrut shout from a stranger up the road a ways. "Landon Ricketts!" the man says assuringly as he approached us with his 4 followers, one being a lady who didn't look like the type you'd take home and trade stories with. "Who's asking?" Landon said as he turned toward the lead man while simultaneously grabbing one of the Schofields calmly out of my hand. There was a pregnant pause in the engagement that seemed to last a lifetime. Almost as if everyone involved in the altercation were calculating what was going to happen next in their heads. The man then replied reaching for his holster "Who's asking?...heh, Angelo Bronte!" As the man went to draw his gun, Landon


            For what seemed like a decade, Landon went on to teach me the fundamentals of shooting guns...Rifles, pistols, you name it. Luckily for me he had no patience and i was a quick learner. He never really seemed impressed with my progress but I knew with his direction I was getting much better at it. He noticed that I quickly became obsessed with the draw. He would see me practicing not only drawing my gun quickly but also trying to shoot it accurately off of the draw. Despite his efforts to make me focus more on shooting after the gun had left its holster my daily practice in my alone time was spent mostly on the draw. Over and over, i would practice hitting everything from big hay targets to small cage locks. I started to get not only fast...but accurate. I learned that speed came from anticipation and muscle i worked tirelessly to fine tune those key things. I was quick drawing on squirrels, foxes, rabbits, anything i felt might be hard to hit.. reholstering and drawing my

revolver over and over again without shooting at times. One day, after a couple of years of sitting back and watching me with disappointment Landon piped up in the middle of my shooting and said something i'll never forget. Leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed he looked up at me and said: "You know what they ought to call you?" Still looking forward at the target, i re-holstered my revolver and turned my head over to Landon..he paused for a brief but memorable moment and said ".. .. ..The fastest gun in the West."


grabbed the man's arm with his left then proceeded to sHOOT the man in the neck with the revolver he previously grabbed from me At the same time, without raising my gun but only lifting it slightly, i shot the woman who had already had her gun drawn directly between the eyes. Me and Landon then proceeded to hold the final two men at gun point. They were pale white with eyes as big as plates after watching what had just happened.

             The day me and Landon parted ways I had to ask him man to man why he did what he did. Why he decided to help me instead of kill me. I couldn't let this man walk away from me with no answers like Uncas did so many years ago. He told without missing a beat: "Because fortune favors the strong son..You were fast on your feet and didn't need to be taught twice.. Everyone in this world is eager to teach regardless of how much they know. what's important is those who take the time to listen. Stay that way..and this world will always give."

       In the midst of this wild ride of a life..i fell for a woman believe it or not. She had the voice of an angel and the fight of a lion.. The lovely Ms. Robin Koninsky.. I remember one evening seeing her taking a woman out in the back alley of the Saint Denis theater and putting a beating on her like i never thought possible by a woman. It was so bad a man tried to run up and stop her... hell he tried to do more than stop her... I put him in a choke hold before he was able to do anything serious. By the time i was done with him she was the one helping ME up..

         I saw  those eyes..felt those hands..heard that beautiful voice ask me if i was ok as she helped me up...and from that moment on...she had me. Time went on as our love for each other grew stronger. She was a fun woman. Knew how to party..robin and I together were always such a presence when out in public. We had an energy together that people were drawn to. She had been tirelessly working on her singing career before we met. I knew she was going to be famous..i told her that all the time. She'd laugh it off, always so humble.. but brought the energy of a tsunami when in public..We told each other everything about ourselves..We were truly in love.




         Even after all these years living this fast paced and very distracting lifestyle..every now and then id think about Uncus and that night..hell.. i figure hes dead by now. I was in one of the Saint Denis saloons one night when the bartender handed me a note. It simply said: "Jailhouse". I asked who it was from but the bartender said he got no name. I immediately knew who it was. I walked over to the jailhouse but saw nothing so I decided to walk around back. It was there i saw Uncas, after all those years he still looked the same. He always looked in control. Like he knew the way. Reminded me so much of my father. Before i said anything i noticed he had a man hogtied beside him. He explained to me that this was the man that ordered the attack on my village. The Marshall of Saint Denis.


            later that night, my hands covered in blood, i headed home quickly. robin wasn't home..i wasn't surprised, i think she had some dinner meeting with some big shots from out east looking to invest in her. i had no time..i had to leave and it wasnt easy. i left her a letter explaining where i was going and what needed to be done, i knew she'd understand..she always understood me..better than anyone..



         Now armed with my new experience and knowledge, we left Saint Denis and didnt look back. Although unsure of where we might go or what we might do. i was ready. but still... i know someday i'll be able to settle down; Uncas says we just have a few things to take care of first. I trust him with my life... that will never change.