Forums » General Roleplay » Trick or Treat: Whiskey & Wagers

Setting: A saloon in the American Wild West, though since this is just for fun, any human (or character that can pass for human) may attend as long as they leave any future technology in the future!





The Whiskey & Wagers Saloon was a two-story structure located at the west end of the small town. Its wooden sign was painted with bright and bold yellow lettering and the building was of relatively new and sturdy construction.

Inside, there's a staircase on the right side of the room, with an upright piano set against it. A dark haired fellow with a black hat and mustache is playing while a cigarette hangs off his lower lip.



The upstairs is only half the footprint of the downstairs with 3 closed doors in a row behind a narrow balcony. There’s no kitchen, but plenty of bottles lining the shelves and several kegs, along with a sign outlining the rules of the saloon.



The man behind the bar is of average height, but with a naturally stocky build coupled with a beer gut. He has dark brown eyes, dark brown hair, and a well-trimmed beard and mustache over his tanned face.

Guests to the special Trick or Treat event can certainly mingle. There are several tables available for bending an elbow with the other patrons. But today there are 3 special stations set up to celebrate All Hallows' Eve:


Station #1: Horseshoe Toss

All guests get one free throw to try to wrap the horseshoe around the stake. (Roll 1d6) *

1 - 3 Sorry, no good!
4 - Within a horseshoe width of the stake. (Win a party hat!)
5 - Horseshoe touching the stake (Win a free drink!)
6 - Ringer! (Win a baked good!)



Station #2: Wanted Posters

A photographer is there along with some pre-made posters.**



Station #3: Lucky Strike

There are 100 rocks painted yellow. Turn one over to see if you won! Winning rock is labeled 100! (Roll 1d100)

Only 1 winner! Winner receives a matching pair of pistols and a free bottle of our top shelf whiskey (it tastes Epic!).





* While supplies last

** Party goers will hold Whiskey & Wagers in no way responsible for any cases of mistaken arrests or deaths that result from promotional wanted posters.

Nate rode into town and could hear a lot of hoot-n-holler'n coming from a place called Whiskey & Wager'n Saloon. Being he had been on the trail for quite some time he could use some whiskey and some wager'n. He walked in and read the rules. He didn't like turnin' in his Colt .45, but it didn't say nuth'n 'bout knives. He stepped up to the bar and emptied his revolver, putting the shells in his vest pocket and laying it on the bar.

"Best give me a shot of the good stuff." Nate said to the bartender. In exchange he pushed over his gun and some loose coin. "Oh, and a beer." he added. The barkeep pointed at the sign for the rocks and poured a shot of the rot-gut. Guess he had to win the good stuff on a wager. Nate nodded and reached over to turn a yellow rock over....

The man at the bar was Paul Smith (though more commonly just called Smitty), co-owner of the saloon.

He flashed the stranger a welcoming smile. “Ol’ Snakehead it is,” Smitty said as he set down a shot glass on the counter, pulled out a bottle, and filled the glass to the brim. “Made with two rattler heads in the barrel,” he said. "Favorite of the miners here!" It was indeed a rot-gut whiskey, only a favorite because it was cheap.

As he poured the beer, he tried to make some smalltalk with the man, who still bore some dust from the trail. "Where'd ya ride in from?"

Though the pair of outlaws-turned-saloon owners were mostly flying under the radar these days and keeping their noses clean, it was always good to keep an ear to the ground for any interesting scuttlebutt. "No luck, huh? There's always the horseshoe toss over there too."

Roy had been travelling quite a few days now and finally made it to The Whiskey & Wagers Saloon

He dismounted the horses and handed the reins over to a boy, for him to take the steed away whilst The Hanging Judge, Roy Lawless, entered the bar for some refreshments

He saw the Station #3: Lucky Strike with curiosity, approaching the table to pick up a yellow rock and turn it upside down, staring at the rolled number in disgust

"Bah!" grumbled Roy disappointed at the low score, leaving this table to go to the next and try his luck anew

Roy made his way over to Station #1: Horseshoe Toss and picked up a horseshoe, aimed at the stake, throwing it rather forcefully and waiting to see the results.

Alas he had been so tired from the long journey and his arms were still so sore that he entirely missed the stake completely, watching, in horror and rather embarrassed as the stray horseshoe flew off his hand and hit other items (perhaps other patrons!) instead.

Hoping to defuse possible altercation, he hurried over to the counter to order a stiff drink, dropping a handful of coins for the beverage.

Nate shrugged and looked at the whiskey, He tipped it down in one go and only made a slight grimace. He had worse. That poison up in Miles City that said on the label 'Good for Engines' was way worse.

He took the beer and said, "Rode up from Tucumcari." before sipping the warm yellow piss. It could have been worse too. "Where is this brewed at? Tastes German but for the age. Maybe Mexico?" Nate asked. He did spend some time south of the border and ran across some decent beer down there. That and the senoritas were the only good thing to come of that venture.

He looked over at the horseshoes and though he was never really good at it, thought he'd give it a try....

Tucumcari wasn't a town Smitty was familiar with, but he didn't like to admit that, so just nodded like knew. "Nah, brewed local. Mr. Engel and his sons. It'd go bad before we could get it all the way from south of the border."

Fred Linch took a short break from playing the piano so that he could wet his own whistle on a sip of beer, tap the excess ash off his cigarette, and watch the two patrons try their hands at the horseshoe toss.

"Aw, com'on! Ya'll can do better than that. Give it another go! First one was just a warm up!"

Elise was no gunslinger or really a wild west type lady. She preferred to dance if anything. That didn't mean she didn't like going exploring the town. Especially when there were fun things to do. It was Halloween after all and there were all kinds of fun to be had.

Today dressed in saloon girl outfits in red Erina made her way into the saloon and had to read to rules. There were only a couple of other people in the saloon at the moment but hey she wasn't afraid to mingle. "How ya doing fellas!" Erina said with a grin coming towards the bar. "Beer please." Looking over the rocks she picked one up and turned it over curiously.

Smitty was cleaning out a shotglass when the young and lovely woman in red entered the saloon and he stopped what he was doing to watch her approach.

"Sure thing, Doll, " Smitty said and poured her a beer from the keg without even asking for payment. That dress of hers probably made him forget. Or maybe he just didn't mind if he had to cover it. "Where have you been hidin'? Hey Flinch! Quit slackin' and get the music going again!"

It had been years since Esme Black had set her foot in a bar or saloon. Not since the day that her late husband - Jameson Butler, the fourth man she’d married - was shot dead in a big fight. No one knew who started the fight, and no one knew who’d pulled the trigger. All that was known, was that Butler’s life wasn’t saveable, and that Esme would be widowed for the fourth time.

Four marriages later, the only scar Esme carried from her marriage to Butler, was a jagged one across her lips, which was the result of Butler hitting her over the head with an empty bottle. That had also happened at a saloon, and added to the list of reasons, Esme hadn’t visited one in years.

But today she had a purpose, as she walked through the doors to the new establishment. Her eyes scanned the room, and quickly recognised the man in the bar. Her steps were determined, and soon she stood at the bar, accompanied by the other few patrons in there.

“Quite a place ya’ve got ya self here, Paul,” Esme said, as she turned around one of the yellow stones, not paying that close attention to the number under it. “Do you think, you or your associate could spare a minute to speak with an old friend?”

Nate sipped on that beer. "Glad it be local. Not much for hops innit tho." Nate suspected from the looks of the town that Mr Engel used nettles in their place.

He picked up a horseshoe and was thinking about how he may change his luck when the prettiest thing walked in the door. Her red dress swayed as she stepped up to the bar, and Nate held out the horseshoe and pointed it at the lady in red before tossing it...

He didn't really watch it go though as another woman walked in. He had a habit of keeping an eye on the doors of saloons because too many times someone came in with a guns ablazin'...

He heard the horseshoe tink the iron stake so he looked. "Hey! A free drink! You can give it to the fair lady in red as it was her luck walkin' in when she did!" He said with a grin. He stepped up to the bar and tipped his hat. "Pleased to meet ya ma'am."

Erina smiled the prettiest smile she could muster as she picked up the drink. Taking a sip she met the gaze of Smitty before setting her drink down. "I been out dancing mostly. You get a good song playing and I just can't help but want to move. It's been a while since I came to town." Erina spoke well too. It was obvious bar scenes weren't really her place but she was enjoying it so far.

She wouldn't be the only female in the bar for long. Smiling at the newest addition she heard the tink of metal on metal as the horseshoe hit the pin. Turning in her seat she lifted her drink. "Guess this ones on you then sir. Pleasures all mine."

Getting up from her seat she hurried over to the horseshoes and picked one up. "Might be lucky or it might just be coincidence. Let's see shall we." She wasn't great at anything but dancing but she wanted to try at least. "Now we are even."

"Let's get some music going then!" Smitty exclaimed, waving at Fred to hurry up and get back to playing the piano. He wouldn't mind seeing Erina dancing around. And it sure wouldn't hurt business either.

He nodded his head toward Nate to acknowledge the free drink toward Erina. Seemed that worked out well enough since Smitty had forgotten to ask her to pay anything. And then she went and earned her own as well.


((Two bottles sent to Erina. ))


Fred Linch took his time about getting back to playing, taking another couple drags on his cigarette first. But when Esme entered, Flinch met her eyes for just a second ... too long to pretend that he hadn't seen her. And he was suddenly in a hurry to get back to playing. He turned around on the bench and started right in on a song, messing up the first couple notes before getting the tune under control.

Smitty grinned. "Well, if it ain't Mrs. Wilkerson!" He might have already had a glass or two in him. It was a party, after all. "Course we got a minute for old friends." Chances were good that she wasn't here to tell him that she'd grown tired of her beau and was ready to throw herself into Smitty's embrace. But one could dream...

Esme sent Flinch a smile before he had time to look away. She wanted him to know, she knew he’d seen her, and that avoiding her wouldn’t be an option. Freddy Linch hadn’t always been her favourite of Bobby’s men. He was good at what he did - no doubt about that - but he was too... hesitant and tended to ask questions that were better left unanswered, and negotiate an un-negotiable terms.

Paul Smith, on the other hand, Had always been less of a problem. He knew that some sacrifices had to be made, in order to advance in this country. His somewhat obvious interest in Esme hadn’t gone unnoticed either, and, vain as she was, Esme liked the flattery.

“Good to see ya again, Paul,” Esme said, purposefully turning her back on Flinch for now. She smiled at him, and leaned in over the bar, so that her words weren’t as easily intercepted by the other patrons. This was business, and there was no need to spoil their fun.

“I have some... trouble... A recently hired-in ranch hand of mine has been redirecting clients of mine to another breeder. That’s very bad for my business, and for my poor husband’s declining health. Would you have any suggestions as to how we deal with that?”

The Hanging Judge listened quietly to patrons and staff alike and decided to try his luck again.

Smitty leaned over the bar from the other side to listen to what Esme Wilkerson had to say.

"You thinkin' he needs taught a lesson?" Smitty asked quietly, cracking his knuckles on one beefy hand with the other. While simply firing the offender seemed the most logical course of action, he very much doubted the Black Widow would be here asking his opinion on the matter if she was looking for something as simple as that. Paul Smith and Fred Linch had done 'favors' for her before and they were never so straightforward - or bloodless - as telling someone to just bugger off.


"Got another drink on the house!" Fred called out over the music as Roy's horseshoe landed against the stake. He finished up the short melody, then took another short break. This promotional event seemed to be drawing some new patrons, which was certainly good to see. And then he noticed the badge on Roy's shirt. Well... crud.

"What brings ya to town?" he asked casually. While he and Smitty were mostly keeping their noses clean these days, you just never knew when those old bounties from Texas were gonna come back to bite them in the butt.

Nate nodded at Roy’s throw. He himself had a sort of love-hate relationship with law-enforcement types, usually only dealing with them when he brings in a bounty.

“Good toss there. One could get used to that snakebite whiskey 🥃 they been given’ out.”

Nate thought he would turn another rock over after he tosses another horseshoe. . .

Esme let her words and Smitty’s reply hang in the air as she turned over another stone. She felt as if she had the upper hand in this conversation, especially since she’d gotten to speak with Smitty first, who wasn’t as hesitant to work for her as Flinch was. But no matter which one she’d ended up talking to, she had a few cards up her sleeves that might prove useful.

“I believe that the boy should learn that stealing simply ain’t ever an option,” she said, confirming Smitty’s suggestions of teaching the thief a lesson, though not directly saying anything that deliberately could be used to accuse her of giving orders to hurt her employee.

“Who knows, one day, he might be employed by someone who don’t care as much about their boys, as I care for all of those, who’ve worked for me...” Esme added with a sigh and a sugary-sweet smile. “And maybe, when he has learned that you don’t steal from your employer, he will share this knowledge with his lil’ friends? Keep ‘em from makin’ the same mistakes in the future?”

Erina watched everyone talking and playing the games around the saloon. It really was all in good fun. She felt quite a bit out of her element though. Bidding those not currently in conversation a farewell she finished her drink and headed out in search of the next exciting thing to come around. Maybe she would even come back to visit again.

Smitty glanced at the rock that Esme picked up. She didn't seem bothered by the low number, but he tried to get a rise out of her anyway. "You wanna try your hand at roulette on Saturday night? You're our favorite kind of customer, Mrs. Wilkerson." Unlucky.

He smirked, but didn't push his luck with her any more. "Them kinda life lessons can be expensive though..." he said, agreeing to the job. They just had to settle on the price. Flinch probably wouldn't like it, but he tended to forget they both still had Wanted Posters floating around out there. Just because no lawmen had shown up for them since they set up shop here didn't mean they never would. And if that day ever came, that alliance with the Black Widow would pay dividends.

He looked up as Nate's horseshoe went a little wild and spoke louder to be heard over the piano, "Whooo! Looks like that whiskey's kickin' in! Tastes better with each shot, don't it?"

The man looked a little rough. Maybe Smitty could sub-contract this one. "What brings you to town? Heard bout the horseshoe tossin' competition?" he asked. His tone was joking, but he was hoping to get a better feel for if the man might be looking to make some money.