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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"I will pull every single dime of my investment out of this valley," Caleb threatened, his voice a quiet, lethal promise. "And that massive Pelton wheel spinning in the river down there? The one that is currently sharing free, limitless electricity with your entire town? I will shut it off permanently. Strawberry will go back to being a dark, muddy, freezing logging camp by Monday morning."
The threat was quiet, incredibly effective, and completely devoid of any physical violence. It was the kind of crushing, corporate pressure that made the sheriff understand exactly how much he had to lose if he failed to keep things in order.
"You... you have my absolute word, Don Thorne," the sheriff stammered, the color draining from his face as he realized the town's entire future rested on his competence. "Nothing will go wrong. The town is locked down."
"Glad we understand each other," Caleb smiled coldly. "Silvio, secure the perimeter."
With the food tasting finished, the family settled, and the security locked in an iron grip, the day finally drew to a close. Caleb returned to the sprawling, mahogany paneled Presidential suite.
The scene inside was calm, warm, and full of a profound, beautiful anticipation before the big day. A fire crackled merrily in the stone hearth, casting a soft amber glow over the massive four poster bed. Mary-Beth was sitting by the fire, brushing her dark hair, a look of absolute peace on her face.
Caleb shed his heavy coat and his shoulder holster, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catch up to him. He climbed into the massive bed with the woman he loved, wrapping his arms around her, and they fell into a deep, restful sleep, ready to face the dawn.
The next morning, the sun rose over the snow capped Grizzlies, illuminating a sight that the rugged logging town of Strawberry had never seen in its entire history.
As the morning progressed, numerous, incredibly elegant carriages began entering the town in a massive, glittering procession. The local townsfolk, dressed in their simple wool coats and mud stained boots, lined the wooden boardwalks.
They already knew something important was happening because of the massive hotel construction, but they were still profoundly surprised by how many fancy, gold trimmed carriages, pulled by purebred Arabian and Turkoman horses, were arriving in their humble valley.
The invitees, the ultra wealthy elite of Saint Denis, were equally shocked. As their carriages rolled over the wooden bridges and pulled up the crushed stone driveway, they looked out their windows in sheer disbelief.
They had expected a rustic, perhaps slightly uncomfortable frontier wedding. Instead, they were greeted by the sight of the luxurious, towering stone hotel standing like a European palace in the center of Strawberry, completely transforming the town.
Standing on the grand, timber framed porch of the hotel to welcome the guests was Caleb.
He looked like absolute royalty. He was wearing his bespoke, deep navy-blue worsted wool suit, his posture straight, radiating the terrifying, charismatic aura of a billionaire industrialist. But he didn't stand alone.
Flanking him on the porch were the boys of the Van der Linde gang, Arthur, John, Hosea, Javier, and Bill. Caleb had clearly, intentionally placed them in the role of his family, his groomsmen, his brothers.
They were all wearing pristine, custom tailored suits that Caleb had purchased for them, completely shedding their outlaw pasts to stand as the elite inner circle of the Thorne Holding Company.
The first heavy carriage to pull up to the portico bore the official seal of the city of Saint Denis. The door opened, and stepping out into the crisp mountain air were the two most powerful legal figures in the state, the Mayor of Saint Denis, Henri Lemieux, and the Chief of Police, Lambert Leclerc.
Their arrival felt incredibly important and heavily formal, instantly establishing the staggering scale and political influence of the event.
"Don Thorne!" Mayor Lemieux greeted him, stepping up onto the porch and shaking Caleb's hand enthusiastically, his eyes darting up to the massive electric chandeliers visible through the lobby windows. "My word, what a spectacular estate you have built here! The rumors in the city did not do it justice!"
"Welcome to Strawberry, Mayor. Chief Leclerc," Caleb smiled warmly, shaking their hands with the firm, confident grip of a man who owned them both. "I am honored you could make the journey. Please, go inside and warm yourselves. The champagne is already flowing."
As Caleb and his brothers formally welcomed the endless stream of judges, tycoons, and shipping magnates downstairs, the scene upstairs in the Presidential suite was a beautiful, chaotic contrast of feminine warmth and profound emotional support.
Mary-Beth was standing on a small velvet pedestal in the center of the suite. She was already wearing her wedding dress, the pure ivory silk and delicate French lace cascading perfectly around her figure. She looked absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous, like an angel stepping out of a painting.
The ladies of the gang had entirely taken over the room, all of them dressed in their finest, most elegant gowns, bustling around the bride to help her get ready for the ceremony.
Abigail Marston stood directly behind Mary-Beth, gently adjusting the long, flowing silk train of the dress. As the woman with the most experience in the room when it came to a true, enduring husband and wife life, Abigail helped Mary-Beth in a mature, deeply reassuring way.
"Take a deep breath, honey," Abigail smiled softly, catching Mary-Beth's nervous, excited gaze in the vanity mirror. "I know your heart is beating like a drum right now. But the second you look out those doors and see him standing there waiting for you, all the nerves just melt away. You are marrying a good man, Mary-Beth. A man who would burn the world down to keep you safe."
"Thank you, Abigail," Mary-Beth whispered, a tear threatening to spill over her eyelashes.
"No tears yet! You'll ruin my masterpiece!" Molly O'Shea playfully scolded, stepping up to the front of the vanity.
Molly, having finally found her own sense of peace and belonging within the new corporate structure of the family, was completely in her element.
As the former rich lady who intimately knew the secrets of high society makeup and presentation, Molly helped the most with Mary-Beth's appearance. She held a small, expensive silver brush, applying a faint, perfect touch of rouge to Mary-Beth's cheeks and adjusting the delicate diamond earrings Caleb had gifted her.
"There," Molly smiled, stepping back to admire her handiwork, genuinely proud of the stunning bride before her. "You look like absolute royalty, darling. When Caleb sees you, he is going to forget his own name."
Tilly, Karen, and Sadie were sitting on the plush sofas, sipping glasses of champagne and offering a chorus of constant, loving praise. Even Miss Grimshaw, usually stern and uncompromising, stood near the door with a soft, misty eyed smile on her face.
Their presence made the preparation feel incredibly warm, deeply feminine, and full of an unbreakable sisterly support. It was a beautiful, intimate contrast to the formal, masculine display of power and corporate excitement happening downstairs on the porch.
Mary-Beth looked at the women surrounding her, her family, and then looked back at her reflection in the mirror. She reached up, gently touching the flawless Colombian emerald on her left hand. The music from the brass band downstairs began to drift up through the floorboards, a sweeping, triumphant melody that signaled the arrival of the hour.
She took a deep, steadying breath, her heart soaring with an uncontainable joy. She was ready. She was about to walk down the aisle to marry the man who had given them all a golden future.
On the other hand, on the grand hallroom of the Strawberry luxury hotel, it have been transformed into a space that transcended mere wealth, making it a breathtaking, cinematic masterpiece of light, color, and life. Thanks to Monsieur Laurent's meticulous decorations elevated the already towering, timber framed architecture into a true floral wonderland.
Thousands of pure white mountain roses, interlaced with vibrant green ivy and delicate baby's breath, cascaded from the exposed wooden rafters like living waterfalls. The massive crystal chandeliers above were dimmed just enough to allow the hundreds of custom blown glass lanterns to cast a soft, incredibly romantic amber glow across the polished hardwood floors.
A professional concert band, hired specifically from the finest music halls in Saint Denis, occupied a raised mahogany stage in the corner. They were playing a soft, sweeping orchestral prelude that floated over the gentle hum of the assembled crowd.
Caleb stood near the front of the hall, cutting a devastatingly imposing yet undeniably elegant figure in his bespoke navy blue suit. The silver silk tie caught the warm lantern light, perfectly complementing the sharp, aristocratic lines of his tailoring.
As he mingled with the guests before the ceremony officially began, the sheer scale of his influence was on full display. The room was packed with the absolute elite of Lemoyne and beyond, railroad tycoons, shipping magnates, state judges, and powerful politicians.
One by one, these men of immense power stepped forward to shake his hand, their voices laced with genuine respect and underlying awe.
"Don Thorne, I must say, this hotel is a marvel of modern engineering," a wealthy steel magnate praised him, gesturing to the sprawling electric lights and the heated stone hearths. "You have built an absolute fortress of luxury out here in the wilderness. Congratulations on your union today, and on this magnificent achievement."
"Thank you, Mr. Sterling. I appreciate your presence," Caleb replied smoothly, his charismatic smile firmly in place.
It wasn't just the men who vied for his attention. Several of the high society ladies, adorned in expensive silks and dripping with diamonds, attempted to orbit him.
Drawn to his raw, masculine power, his immense fortune, and his striking features, a few of the younger debutantes tried to charm him with fluttering eyelashes, coy smiles, and delicate touches to his forearm, hoping to catch the eye of the billionaire Don before he was officially bound.
But Caleb ignored their advances with a natural, effortless grace. He offered polite, incredibly brief nods, completely devoid of any reciprocal warmth, and immediately shifted his attention away. His mind, his heart, and his entire soul were entirely focused on Mary-Beth. He kept his attention precisely where it truly belonged, counting down the agonizingly slow minutes until she walked through those doors.
Finally, the grand grandfather clock in the lobby chimed the hour.
The low, rumbling conversations of the tycoons and politicians immediately ceased. The concert band transitioned seamlessly from their soft prelude into a sweeping, majestic wedding march.
Caleb walked to the front of the hallroom, taking his place beside Reverend Thomas at the altar, which had been framed by a magnificent archway of woven white roses. Arthur Morgan, acting as his best man, stood just a half step behind him, his massive frame looking sharp and disciplined in his tailored suit.
Caleb stood tall, his posture perfect, facing the heavy oak double doors at the back of the hall. His expression was composed, maintaining the dignified aura of a corporate sovereign, but his piercing blue eyes betrayed a deep, overwhelming well of emotion.
The heavy doors slowly swung open.
The entire hall collectively held its breath.
Mary-Beth Gaskill stood in the doorway, bathed in the soft, ethereal light filtering in from the lobby. She looked absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous. The pure ivory silk of her gown flowed around her like water, the intricate French lace catching the light with every microscopic movement. She carried a delicate bouquet of white mountain roses, and her dark hair was pinned up elegantly, framing a face that radiated pure, unadulterated joy.
Escorting her down the aisle was Hosea. The old conman, dressed in a pristine, immaculate tuxedo, looked like a distinguished statesman. He carried himself with a quiet, profound dignity, his arm offered to Mary-Beth with the fierce, protective pride of a father giving away his beloved daughter.
As they began their slow walk down the aisle, the guests turned in their seats, staring in awe at the sheer beauty and grace of the bride.
But for Caleb and Mary-Beth, the entire room full of millionaires, the lavish decorations, and the sweeping music simply faded away into a dull, distant hum. They looked at each other deeply, their eyes locking across the expanse of the hall. The moment carried a real, physical weight. Every hardship, every freezing night in the mud, every gunshot, and every desperate escape they had endured had all led to this exact, perfect second.
When they reached the altar, Hosea stopped. He turned to Mary-Beth, lifting his weathered hand to gently cup her cheek, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He kissed her softly on the forehead, a silent, beautiful blessing.
Then, Hosea turned to Caleb. In a highly touching, incredibly respectful moment, the older man took Mary-Beth's gloved hand and gently placed it into Caleb's waiting palm.
"She is the best of us, Caleb," Hosea whispered, his raspy voice thick with affection and absolute, unwavering trust. "Take care of our girl."
"With my life, Hosea," Caleb promised, his voice a low, fierce vow. "Always."
Hosea nodded, stepping back to take his seat in the front row beside Abigail and John.
Caleb and Mary-Beth turned to face Reverend Thomas, their hands clasped tightly together. Caleb's thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, anchoring her as the Reverend raised his arms to address the quiet hall.
"Dearly beloved," Reverend Thomas began, his voice echoing warmly off the timber ceilings. "We are gathered here today, in this magnificent place, to witness and celebrate the union of Caleb Thorne and Mary-Beth Gaskill. Love is a remarkable force. It builds empires, it tames the wilderness, and it provides a sanctuary when the world outside grows dark."
The Reverend spoke beautifully, weaving a sermon that acknowledged the strength required to build a new life, before finally turning to the couple for their vows.
These were not generic, recited words. They were heartfelt, incredibly personal vows that reflected the intense, profound reality of their relationship.
Caleb took both of her hands in his, looking down into her dark, shining eyes.
"Mary-Beth," Caleb spoke, his rich voice echoing in the absolute silence of the room. "Before I met you, my world was built entirely on survival. I dealt in cold steel and calculated risks. But you... you brought poetry into a life that only knew war. You saw past the armor, and you showed me that there was actually a future worth fighting for. Through every trial, every moment of doubt, your light has guided me."
A tear slipped free from Mary-Beth's eye, tracing a warm path down her cheek as Caleb continued.
"I promise to be your shield against the dark," Caleb vowed, his tone vibrating with a fierce, eternal devotion. "I promise to cherish your brilliant mind, to protect your beautiful heart, and to build a world where you never have to run again. I choose you, today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my natural life."
The raw, undeniable sincerity of his words left several of the hardened tycoons in the audience clearing their throats, while Abigail and Molly wept openly in the front row.
Mary-Beth took a shuddering, joyous breath, her hands squeezing his tightly as she spoke her own vows.
"Caleb," she whispered, her voice melodic and trembling with profound emotion. "I spent my entire life reading stories of heroes and grand adventures, trying to escape the reality of the world. But then you walked into my life, and you gave me a reality that is more beautiful, more thrilling, and more deeply romantic than any book I could ever read."
She looked up at him, her heart completely, irreversibly his.
"You gave me a family. You gave me safety. And most importantly, you gave me your heart," Mary-Beth promised, her eyes locked onto his. "I promise to stand by your side, not just as your wife, but as your partner in all things. I promise to support your ambitions, to comfort you in your quiet moments, and to love you with every single beat of my heart, until the end of our days."
Reverend Thomas, visibly moved by the sheer depth of their connection, gestured for the rings.
Arthur stepped forward, handing Caleb a simple, flawlessly polished band of pure platinum. Caleb slid it onto Mary-Beth's finger, the cold metal settling perfectly beside the massive Colombian emerald. Mary-Beth took the larger, matching platinum band and slid it onto Caleb's hand, sealing the covenant in a meaningful, deeply emotional exchange that felt entirely worthy of the occasion.
"By the power vested in me, and by the grace of God," Reverend Thomas smiled brilliantly, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." Caleb didn't hesitate. He pulled Mary-Beth flush against his chest, dipping her slightly in a sweeping, cinematic motion, and kissed her deeply, passionately, pouring every ounce of his love into the embrace.
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 283,392 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -