Deadlands: Coffin Rock Characters

Aloisyus "Cooter" McGee, aka "Muleskinner" McGee, aka "Moonshine" McGee, aka "Kookoo" McGee, aka "Moondog", etc. (Chris Nicholas)

VIGOR D8
SPIRIT D6
AGILITY D6
SMARTS D6
STRENGTH D6

Skills: Driving D6, Fighting D4, Gambling D4, Guts D6, Repair D6, Streetwise D6, Survival D6, Shooting D4, Throwing D6

Major Hindrance: Clueless

Minor Hindrances: Hard of Hearing, Ugly

Edges: Brawny, Knack (Bastard)

Gear: Mule & El Cheapo Wagon, Corncob Pipe, Hammer & Pick, Iron Skillet & Mess Kit, Matches (100), 25' Fuse, Satchel, Bottle of Cheap Whiskey, Double-Barrel Shotgun w/40 Shells, (15) Sticks Dynamite, Canteen

Worst Nightmare: He has a couple recurring nightmares:

in one he's holding a lit stick of dynamite and trying to throw it, but it won't leave his hand, and if he does manage to throw it when he looks down it's back in his hand again, the fuse getting shorter and shorter.

this one mine he worked when he was younger was haunted by...SOMETHING...a few of the miners disappeared. he never saw it, there'd be strange sounds echoing through the shafts, and a presence, down in the darkness...an aura of pure malevolent EEEEEVILLLL. he soon quit that job and took off. heard later that the mine collapsed, trapping and killing dozens. it was deemed an accident, but he's not convinced. in any case, glad he escaped their fate...or did he?

for now, in his sleep, they come to him, those dead miners. he finds he is among them as they shuffle into the black maw of the mine. he cannot turn away or run, carried along by their ranks. his looks to his right. the man there turns a wormy visage to him and says in a sepulchral hiss, "Time to go to woooork." he looks at the man on his left, whose jaw falls away. maggots writhe from the collar of the man before him. his own hands are dessicated flesh and bones. he tries to scream but there is only the sound of the wind, as they move down, ever down, into the dark.

the drinking helps. when he's drinks enough, he does not dream.

Crazy old prospector, given to fits of authentic frontier gibberish and lighting dynamite off his corncob pipe. Special emphasis on mule driving, cart handling. Mules take a more particular set of skills than the average horse. Knows how to live off'n the land. Good at fixin'/jury riggin' stuff, keepin' 'er on the road. Knows his way around an alley. hears a lot of rumors and whatnot since people don't pay him much mind, and run their dang ol' mouths around 'im.

Zhang Guo (Jason Murphy)

VIGOR D6
SPIRIT D6
AGILITY D6
SMARTS D6
STRENGTH D6

Skills: Climbing D6, Fighting D6, Guts D6, Knowledge (English) D4, Knowledge (History) D4, Knowledge (Occult) D6, Notice D6, Riding D4, Stealth D6, Throwing D6

Major Hindrance: Code of Honor

Minor Hindrances: Outsider, Poverty

Edges: Fleet-Footed, Martial Arts

Gear: Nunchuks, Backpack, Bedroll, Canteen, Shovel, El Cheapo Horse with saddle, $13.50

Worst Fear: Zhang fears for his family and his friends being overwhelmed by the monstrosities of the Deadlands, which is why he's given up everything to fight against them.

A fella who was working on a private rail road out in the middle of nowhere and experienced some, as they say in the vernacular, 'horrific shit'. He's the only survivor of the large crew who unleashed said 'horrific shit' after blasting through a mountain to make way for the train. Now he wanders the desert on a spiritual vision quest, trying to define himself as a wandering sage and fighter of evil.

Efraim Hollister (Dave Farabee)

VIGOR D6
SPIRIT D8
AGILITY D6
SMARTS D6
STRENGTH D6

Skills: Faith D8, Fighting D10, Guts D8, Investigation D6, Knowledge (Occult) D6, Persuasion D6, Riding D6, Streetwise D4

Major Hindrance: Overconfident

Minor Hindrances: Poverty, Stubborn

Edges: Veteran o' The Weird West (Beat With An Ugly Stick), Arcane Background (Miracles), Martial Arts

Gear: El Cheapo Horse w/Saddle, Weathered Bible, Backpack, Bedroll, Canteen, Matches (100), Lariat, Bowie Knife, $9.50

Worst Nightmare: Efraim is afraid of going to Hell. He grew up rowdy, mean-spirited, and a drinker. As far as he knows he'll be atoning for that for the rest of his life lest St. Peter turn him away from Paradise. And Hell is by no means an abstract to Efraim. It's a real place, filled with fire and eternal torment at the hands of the vilest of demons. He's seen the terrible things that stalk the plains of the West - how much worse must the beasts of Perdition be?

The youngest of ten children, Efraim grew up unsupervised and headstrong in the town of Granite, Oregon (real place - I looked it up). He tried farming, but didn't have the patience. Tried opening a livery and ran it into the ground. What he was good at was drinking, and he spent most of his 20s as an angry town drunk, picking fights at the drop of a hat.

One of the odd jobs he talked his way into was delivering mail in a sort of poor man's Pony Express. During one of their rides, his group was set upon by a pack of otherworldly beings that looked like dead men stretched on the rack, their arm and leg bones stretching four feet long. They skittered around, spider-like, and made fast work of Efraim's fellow riders. Efraim himself managed to outride them, but in town they took his story to be drunken rambling and half-believed he might've killed the riders himself.

The one man who believed him was the local preacher, a stern, god-fearing man who'd seen such Satanic abominations in his own travels. He took Efraim in, cleaned him up, and set him on the path of Righteousness. He always said Efraim embodied the eternal struggle of Cain and Abel, and just prayed that the good heart of Abel would win out. To that end, he taught him secret, apocryphal Bible verses that would cast out the beasts of the night and, hopefully, cleanse his soul in the process. But Efraim was always a fighter at heart and sometimes words weren't enough. He knew the locals wouldn't stand for him toting a gun at his side, but he furthered his brawling skills by befriending an Irish boxer and even taking a few lessons in Eastern fighting techniques from a converted Chinese immigrant among the preacher's flock.

It's been seven years since tuberculosis claimed the preacher's life and Efraim took up his collar and left Granite to find himself. He's returned to the bottle once or twice, and once awoke from a bender with the word 'Cain' tattooed across one set of knuckles, 'Abel' across the others. His right hand is Abel - the hand you'll shake if he thinks you're a decent fella. The left is Cain, more often seen in the vicinity of a broken nose. And just every once in a while, when someone's really pissed Efraim off...the two brothers put aside their differences.

Antoinette Faustin (Jamie Royer)

VIGOR D6
SPIRIT D8
AGILITY D6
SMARTS D8
STRENGTH D4

Skills: Guts D6, Healing D6, Knowledge (English) D6, Knowledge (Voodoo) D6, Knowledge (Science) D6, Persuasion D6, Repair D6, Shooting D6, Weird Science D8

Edges: Arcane Background (Weird Science), Veteran o' The Weird West (Marked for Death), Charisma

Powers: Puppet, Bolt

Hindrances: Curious, Outsider, Stubborn, Delusion

Gear: Gun Belt & Holster, Colt Peacemaker (.45), (50) .45 bullets, Backpack, 2 lbs. Ghost Rock, Weird Science Voodoo Dolls, $25

Worst Nightmare: Unknown... oooh, spooky!

A Haitian woman who has been wandering the Weird West researching Voodoo and Weird Science for unknown reasons.

Silas Call, Union Deserter (Nate Southard)

VIGOR D6
SPIRIT D6
AGILITY D8
SMARTS D4
STRENGTH D6

Skills: Fighting D8, Gambling D4, Guts D6, Intimidation D6, Notice D4, Riding D6, Shooting D8, Survival D4

Major Hindrance: Grim Servant of Death

Minor Hindrances: Wanted, Stubborn

Edges: Quick Draw, Speed Loading, Knack (Breech Birth)

Gear: Colt Army .44, (50) .44 bullets, Winchester '73 Rifle, (50) 44-40 bullets, Canteen, Matches, Playing Cards, Lariat, Bowie Knife, Flask of Good Whiskey, Horse & Saddle, Gun Belt & Holster, Speed-Load Cylinders (3), $4.25

Worst Nightmare: His brother, stalking him while trying to hold in his guts with one hand.

Sooner or later, the world makes a pall bearer out of every one of us.

I tried. For so damn long, I tried to see some kind of light. I searched high and low for something worth believing in, but all I found were fallen homes and pine boxes. With my father gone, it was just myself and Johnny watching mama, and she stayed sick almost from the day we was born until the day she died some thirteen years later. We tried working the farm after that, determined to make some kind of life, but the earth might as well a’been salted for all we could get to grow. Ain’t much for two 16 year old whelps to do with a dead patch of land but give up on it, so that’s what we did.

So we went looking for purpose and instead found a war. Why Johnny decided to wear gray, I’ll never know. He believed in it, I suppose, the same way a fool believes in anything. All I know is that I found my talent in war, in cutting down the enemy one shot at a time. I could have thrived in that terrible environment, had I not been caught in my bloodlust at Gettysburg and woken to find Johnny on the end of my bayonet.

I fled. What else could I do. I had killed my brother, destroying all of my family but myself. Fleeing a battle is a terrible offense, so I moved West in order to keep myself from a noose. My talent with guns proved valuable to those willing to pay for it, and as long as I don’t wake screaming, I find I don’t get kicked out of rooms much. But I do wake up screaming most nights.

Because Johnny’s coming for me.

And he’s pissed.

Hiram H.E Duster IV (Dave Lamplugh)

VIGOR D6
SPIRIT D6
AGILITY D8
SMARTS D6
STRENGTH D4

Skills: Fighting D6, Guts D6, Intimidation D6, Notice D6, Riding D4, Shooting D6, Survival D6, Stealth D6, Tracking D6

Major Hindrance: Overconfident

Minor Hindrances: Habit (Drinks too much), Loyal

Edges: Scout, Quick

Gear: Colt Army .44, (50) .44 bullets, Winchester '73 Rifle, (50) 44-40 bullets, Canteen, Matches, Bowie Knife, Flask of Good Whiskey, Horse & Saddle, Gun Belt & Holster, $13.75

Worst Nightmare: at the Kansas Great Bloody Stalemate, Hiram spent a full day killing Rebs, the last one of which he actually felt bad about. A young rebel, who couldn't have been older that 13, walked around a bombed out building and right into Hirams crosshairs. Hiram will tell himself, that he didn't have time to notice the puny size of the reb, but he did, and even took time to line up the sight more effectively. By Nightfall the fighting had started to creep into the town itself, in the center of which is the military hospital that Hirams drunk brother Andrew fights for life. Hiram falls asleep in the hospital corridor, only to be awakened by noises out side. Hiram can't believe his eyes, the pint sized reb appears to be alive. Again hiram gets the drop on him, but this time, he feels sure that this won't be the last time he has a visit with the boy.

My name is Hiram H.E Duster IV, and I hale from Charlottesville, Virginia. Every year since Revolution against british tyranny, there has been a Duster in the U.S. Cavalry. The same goes for West Point, with the exception of 1830-1838, when the age-eligible Duster showed an un natural predilection for absinthinia, wastrelry, and as is now whispered, prefered a long line of lavender assignations, to the company of men who would fight and die for the republic. For a long line of the Dusters, this is how it has always been. Especially in terms of the concept of the union. Going back to Frederic Duster's experience in the cold winter of 1777-1778, as a sergeant in the Army of Virginia, you will not find a Duster in favor of the concept of "States Rights". For Frederic would never let the successive Duster's forget: these were the same "States" that couldn't even get it together enough over constant regional bickering, to provide shoes or clothes for the men, many of who died under Frederic's command without firing a shot, froven sold in a wooden dugout. Dusters were successively: Federalists with a capital F, At first fervent supporters of Andrew Jackson, and then (after 1838) Fervant Jackson haters. Early on, Dusters numbered in the ranks of congress, and state legislatures, but as time wore on, their stars grew less bright in the firment.

By the time we get to Hiram (saddled as he was by the tendency to drink to excess, as inherited from his uncle), about the best the Duster's had come to expect was a bottom of the class berth at their beloved West Point. Hiram shared that berth with his brother Andrew, so the berth was indeed uncomfortable, but both brothers considered it a step up...and tried not to talk about uncle Maurice.
When the Rebellion came, they both joined the side of union, and both were drunk anew with the family cause. They even torched the farm of a distantly related Duster, because he was a little to placidly satisfied with his slave holding farm, and none to willing to give up the southern way of life.

All of the non-fighting members of the clan moved north, and all the fighting members went off to what they thought would surely be the shortest war in human history. Six years later, Andrew dies during the last great battle of the civil war, the Kansas Blood Red Stalemate III, outside of Pecker Springs, KS. The cause was most likely an enlarged liver, though Hiram would always say it was from a broken spirit. Both brothers had seen too many futile engagements, endured too many stupid decisions by McClellan, and were stunned to silence by Lee's sensational rally of 1865, and subsequent fusing of Lee and Johnston's Armies.