The blaster wields devastating short range firepower with his double barreled shotgun but is ineffective at long range.

- Carries a double barreled shotgun, extremely effective at short range.

- Throws dynamite sticks, the wild west version of the hand grenade.

- Radiates the Armor synergy effect.

“Yeehaw! Let em have it!”
“We got those pantywaists pinned down!”
“Look at them chickenshit bastards crawl and hide!”
The wild bunch of cowboys are spewing bullets down the street. Spent casings and shells litter the floor as the room fills up with gunsmoke. Inaccurate return fire sporadically whistles past but the gang seems completely unfazed.

The cowboys open up another volley with rifles, pistols and carbines.
“We got those cowards on the run!”
“It’s a goddamned turkey shoot! Get em, get em”
Confident and boisterous, the gang continues to hurl lead down range and taunt their opponents. The one sided battle could be mistaken for a pack of rowdy roughnecks celebrating their paycheck at a shooting range.

Their barrage comes to a sudden end when a loud crash shakes the room. The door behind the gang is kicked open and a deep and graveled voice calls out.
“Good evening ladies!”
A large framed man with an impressive red beard appears in the doorway and readies his coachgun.

The first shotgun blast explodes in the chest of the man first to turn to face the intruder.
A second swarm of pellets catches two gunmen sharing a window. They both drop their weapons and howl in pain. The fourth cowboy stares upon the carnage in stunned disbelief and fumbles with his rifle. Advancing, the big man grabs the warm barrels of his shotgun and winds up for a swing, using his sturdy weapon like a bat.
“And goodbye!”
The shoulder stock hits the last standing gang member squarely in the skull with a loud thwack.

An expert at delivering high volumes of accurate fire, the deputy is deadliest at medium to long range where he can make good use of his repeater carbine.

- Main weapon is a repeater carbine, effective at medium to long range.
- Tagging trait. The player can tag enemies as targets, providing valuable recon and support for his gang.
- Radiates the Damage synergy effect.

The sun hangs low in the crimson sky as tumbleweeds roll into the dusty and weather-beaten streets of Santa Leone. The distant howl of a coyote blends in with the eerie rattle of the rickety frontier buildings clattering in the wind.

The main street is desolate except for a lone figure on horseback, a sharp dressed man wearing a bowler hat. The man slowly scans his surroundings through narrowed eyes before dismounting. The town clock chimes just as his boot lands on the ground.

The man heads towards the saloon in a slow walk, his repeater carbine resting on his shoulder. All is silent except for the rhythmic squeak of the saloon doors swaying in the slight breeze. Movement is discerned inside and the swing doors bust open revealing a burly man brandishing a large caliber revolver and a whiskey bottle.

A glimpse of the sharp dressed man’s badge of office reflects in the dim glow of the setting sun.

The large man spits a huge gob of tobacco on the floor and wipes his face with the sleeve of his filthy shirt.

“Looking for someone, Lawman?”

“You know who I am looking for, Dirty Bob”

The Gunslinger’s speed loading large caliber revolver is most effective at close to medium range. He is proficient in fanning, a shooting technique that increases rate of fire at the cost of reduced accuracy.

- Armed with a versatile heavy revolver.

- Remarkable rate of fire due to his fanning technique.

- Radiates the Accuracy synergy effect.

The whole saloon turned silent as the men at the poker table stared each other down. The regular crowd had developed an acute sense of knowing when trouble was brooding. This was definitely such an occasion.
“Cheating bastard, I won’t let you get up and leave with my money just like that”
The man speaking was Buckskin O’Leary, long time member of the High Plains Riders, a notorious gang of thugs and outlaws.
Sitting opposite him and the recipient of his tirade was Hank Jennings, a gunslinger about to make a name for himself.

Hank kept a steady eye on O’Leary while evaluating the situation. There were more of the Riders in town but he had not seen any around today.
“I won’t stand for being called a cheater” Hank replied.
“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want boy! Give my money back!” O’Leary bellowed.
“Make me.”
O’Leary hesitated, visibly caught off guard being talked back to by this audacious stranger. The High Plains Riders practically ruled these parts and were well used in having their way.
In his peripheral vision Hank could see two more of the Riders enter the Saloon. Their arrival persuaded the few remaining customers to clear out in haste.

With his backup present, Buckskin O’Leary regained his composure.
Both men continued their stare down for seconds that seemed like an eternity.
“Money don´t matter no more. You’re gonna pay in blood” O’Leary snarled
They both drew their revolvers, but Hank Jennings fired first. Hank’s bullet caught Buckskin O’Leary right in the heart sending him dead to the floor. In one fluid motion Hank turned towards the other two Riders and fanned the hammer of his sixgun. One, two, three, four, five shots in rapid succession, hammering into the flesh of the gunmen.
They were still reaching for their weapons when the impact of the bullets made them twitch and jerk like puppets on strings. Their dance of death ended in a pile of bodies on the blood soaked saloon floor. \\

The Gunslinger sat down and poured himself another drink.
No one ever called Hank Jennings a cheater again.

Armed with a powerful hunting rifle, the Trapper is a master of long range sniping.

- Long range and very high damage.

- Uses bear traps to immobilize enemies.

- Radiates the Criticals synergy effect.

The grim faced men advance slowly up the hills. Sixguns and shotguns ready, ammo pouches bulging with death just waiting to be delivered.
“You sure about this?” asks the youngest looking fella with a slight tone of trepidation in his voice.
The senior man looks at him with disdain.
“You yellowbelly or sumthin? There are three of us and just one of her. She is just a little girl. So get yourself..”
A gunshot interrupts the man mid sentence and a spray of blood erupts from a gruesome exit wound in his chest. The two remaining gunmen immediately dive for cover while the senior man collapses dead on the ground.

The face of the trapper crouching in the window of the abandoned log cabin is completely neutral as she starts to count.
“Un.”
Jocelyn Dubois reloads her trusty hunting rifle capable of taking down a buffalo at 500 yards.
She adjusts her coonskin cap, peers down her long scope and slowly squeezes off another shot. The rifle roars.
“Deux.”

The young cowboy wipes the blood of his comrade from his face. The grisly sight of the two dead men proves too much. With panic in his eyes and spirit crushed he turns tail. Rising to his feet he starts to run down the hill, back to town, back to safety.

A third shot echoes through the woods. Jocelyn Dubois ejects the spent .50-90 cartridge from her rifle.
“Troix.”