Deadlands: Coffin Rock Recap

Prologue:

ANTOINETTE
You're not sure how Denton found you all the way in New Orleans, but he did. You were following rumors of zombie labor on the railroads when a messenger came to you, spoke your name in perfect French and then handed you an envelope. Inside were a few train tickets and a short letter:

"Antoinette,

You'll find that passage has been paid for you to get to Denver, I reckon it'll take you about five days if you get started now, and since I've got folks planning to meet you in Denver at the Gallup & Stanbury Saloon in six, you'd better get on those rails. I know you have your own business you're conducting, but remember that you owe me for that protection spell that kept the spirits off you. I imagine it's getting thin, and you're starting to hear the voices again... could be after you help me I can cast a fresh one on you.

Best,

Denton"

You were unhappy to have to give up your promising lead, but you had learned from brief experience that where Denton sent you, supernatural strangeness was sure to follow, and whatever you were supposed to be investigating for him was sure to be helpful for your research. Plus, the voices in your head have been getting especially loud lately, and you think another ward to protect you from spirits might be just the thing. So you packed up from the cottage in the swamps where you'd been staying, put a couple pounds of Ghost Rock, strapped on your gun belt and Colt Peacemaker and headed back West.

You suspect that Denton is a member of The Agency, the Union's secret agency for investigating the supernatural in the West. You heard about them, and their Confederate counterparts the Texas Rangers, about the same time you heard of The Reckoning, something that happened in July 1863, involving some kind of dark "gods" that returned magic and monsters to the world. You've met a few of those monsters in your time, including the Voodoo Houngan who cursed you in the first place.


COOTER
Another day, another busted claim. Of late, you'd been working with Hiram Duster IV, a former Union scout whose habits of drinking too much and talking about the war were easy to deal with, given your own love of whiskey and your dynamite-blasted hearing, which kept you from hearing more than one out of every five disgruntled words. You'd managed to get all the copper you could out of a claim in the Colorado Rockies when you had a visitor.

He looked familiar, a tall, muscular black man in a dark black suit and duster, flipping absent-mindedly through a deck of cards as he walked up. He had one milky eye with a scar running through the skin around it, and his hands and face showed signs of scarring as well. At his side, you spotted his pistol, one of those unusual new-fangled contraptions, and you remembered: Denton. You'd seen him fire gouts of lead from that weird pistol of his, and spin tricks of all kinds out of that deck of cards, when he had saved your life after some horrible thing collapsed your mine around you and ate everybody else working on the claim. He'd said to you then that he'd ask you for a favor in return someday, but that was... what? Ten years ago?

"Favor's come due, Aloiysus. You do remember me, right?"

You nodded, lit up your pipe and muttered "Not likely to forget, no matter how much I try."

A grim smile crossed Denton's face. "Need you to take your wagon to Denver. Give it about three days from now, you'll meet up there with some other folks at the Gallup & Stanbury Saloon, one of them's a traveling preacher, and he'll have the rest of your instructions. Maybe bring that fella Hiram with you, too, once he's done pointing his Winchester at my head."

You weren't sure how Denton knew who Hiram was, or where he was, or that he was indeed aiming at his head just in case he was trouble, but you waved him off and then waved him down. Denton walked away, and you went to explaining what was going on and asking if Hiram was interested in staying with you for a mite longer.

HIRAM
Serving as bodyguard and scout for a crotchety prospector like Cooter McGee wasn't what you'd had in mind after the war ended, but the old man listened to your talk about the North and the South without complaint, paid every day and the two of you shared a love of whiskey. Plus, it was pretty easy, nobody really threated Cooter or tried to jump his claims.

Until yesterday, when you saw a a tall, muscular black man in a dark black suit and duster walk up to Cooter as if he was a member of his family. You saw that he had some kind of weird pistol in his holster, and you drew out your Winchester and took a bead, just in case.

The two men talked for a few minutes, and you relaxed a little when Cooter lit up his pipe. Then you saw the black man turn and fix his one good eye on you, from at least forty yards away. You weren't sure how, but you were sure he'd seen you, and maybe he knew you were there the whole time. He walked away, and you saw Cooter wave you off from shooting at him, and then wave for you to come down.

"Well, it seems I got a job to pay back an old favor. Not sure how the pay will be, and I'm guessing it might be a bit more dangerous than guarding ratty claims, but I could sure use your rifle to help me out. What do you say?"

What could you say? You're a loyal friend, and if Cooter was going to do this man's favor, reckon it was your job to make sure he didn't get kilt doing it.

ZHANG
You'd been following rumors of creatures in the Rockies for weeks now, but all you had to show for it was saddle sores from riding, a crick in your back from sleeping under the stars and not a single glimpse of anything weird. You were thinking of maybe taking on some work for the local rail lines when Denton walked right into your camp.

You remembered Denton. Tall, muscular black man in a dark black suit and duster, constantly flipping through that deck of cards of his. One milky eye with a scar running through the skin around it, and you'd seen that that was hardly the only scar he carried. He also carried that weird pistol of his, something the mad scientists whipped up. He hadn't used it when he had pulled you out and away from the thing that killed all of your co-workers and destroyed the rail lines you'd been laying. He had only said one thing that day: "Run!"

Later that day, he'd told you his name was Denton and that you owed him a favor. "There's a lot of things like that in the West, and men like you and me need to stand tall against them, or else they'll surely kill everything and everyone that we love. If I need your help, can I count on it?"

You nodded, and then he left. That was a couple years ago, but you'd been waiting for this return visit.

"Hello there Zhang. Got me a little bit of a situation in a town called Coffin Rock, thought you might want to join a posse I'm putting together to investigate it. If so, you can meet them in Denver in the Gallup & Stanbury Saloon in two days."

EFRAIM
You'd been having a pretty good run of things in Colorado. Talking in various towns, spreading the gospel, warning folks that the Devil himself walked the land, and that he'd laid his seeds all throughout the territories, monsters and demons sprouting up all around. Keep the Good Lord close and you needn't fear what walks in the night, you'd say. Folks treated you kindly, let you stay in local homes or in the chapel, brought you meals, you'd been doing pretty good.

Of course, children still shied away from your blackened arm, and women and men alike crossed the street to avoid getting too close to you, but when you were preaching, you felt like you were doing some good.

It's been nearly a year since you nearly lost your arm to that Sandworm. Nearly a year since Denton had used some kind of witchcraft to drive it back, to heal you from the brink of death, to explain that "The world needs people like you, Father. Your faith is a weapon, and don't you forget it."

He made you nervous, this Tall, muscular black man with the scarred, milky left eye and strange-looking pistol. You'd seen him use that deck of cards he was constantly fidgeting with to blast away at the critter and to heal your wounds, and you knew what that made him: Huckster. You'd heard of them, men and women who used cards to summon power. Some said it was good, and certainly Denton used it for good ends, but still... it seemed like devil magic to you.

While you healed up, Denton talked to you about The Agency. Asked if you'd heard of it, and you had. The Union's secret monster-hunting spies, you'd heard. Keeping folks safe and keeping them from knowing how unsafe they were. You'd guess Denton and his ilk weren't too keen on you preaching the truth of what was out there. But you got the sense that Denton wanted more than just the promise of the favor he extracted from you for saving his life.

When he thought you were asleep, you'd catch him coughing, sometimes two, three minutes at a time. A lunger, for sure. Or maybe his traffic with Satan had earned him an early ticket to the boneyard. One thing's for sure, you thought, this cuss may not live long enough to get this favor. He asked if you knew how to shoot a gun, and when you said no, he suggested you oughta learn. Soon. Also tried to get you to crack open some law books he had lying around in the hideout, but you didn't have much interest in that neither. Denton stopped short of saying it, but you got the sense he was looking for a replacement, and he hoped that man would be you.

After a week, you healed up enough to leave on your own, and you did just that. It was almost a year since that when Denton showed up again. He sat in the back for your sermon, listening and nodding, and came up after your preaching.

"You've still got it, Father. Given any more thought to some target practice and study?" He waited a second for the answer he knew he'd get, then shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Alright, alright. Listen, I need to call in that favor. Something strange is going on in a town called Coffin Rock, up in the northern part of the state, and I'd like you to lead a posse up out of Denver to look into it."

"I'm not sure what exactly is going on in Coffin Rock. Some kind of supernatural trouble, I expect. Just heard from my sources that it needed checking out, so I'm calling in a few favors. If you could make sure everybody gets there, do your best to keep the investigation on track, I'd sure appreciate it. This is a good bunch of folks. Couple ex-soldiers for muscle, a rail worker and a scientist who have both had some of the same experience with the supernatural as you and a miner named McGee. McGee might seem an odd fit at first, but Coffin Rock's a mining town, and if there's trouble in the mines, I expect he'll be able to help you there."

"Anyhow, you meet these folks at the Gallup & Stanbury Saloon in Denver in three days, and take them on up to Coffin Rock, see what you can find out. Some bad things are going to happen out there, unless you good folks can stop it. Hope I can count on you."


SILAS
You'd been doing some security work onboard the Denver-Pacific lines, dealing with would-be train robbers and Rail Wars alike. On your last trip, headed back into Denver, you were making a pass through the cart when someone said your name. Soft, quiet, but certain, confident.

"Silas Call."

The man who said it looked familiar. Tall, muscular black man with a scarred, milky left eye, shuffling cards faster than your eyes could follow. You remembered him now... he had met you on that bloody job in Kansas, when the man you were working for turned out to be possessed by some kind of demon.

"Denton."

"It's time for me to call in my favor, Silas. I'm putting together a posse to investigate some trouble, and they could use your particular talents. So when you get back to Denver tomorrow, maybe you could stop in at the Gallup & Stanbury Saloon."

You nodded, then went back to your patrols. You didn't have any other jobs waiting for you in Denver, and getting clear of a debt is always a good thing.

The Adventure:
Entry. Mid-day. Idea: going to tavern.

BARBERSHOP
----------
Passed by the brothel, resisted temptation. Passing by school, notice mirror in barber shop. Entered (abandoned) shop.

- Breaking and Entering, barber shop (Efraim)
- Theft (aftershave), barbershop (Cooter)
- Destruction of property, barber shop mirror (Efraim)

Saw a figure on top of the bluff staring down at them in the reflection. Efraim broke the mirror. Deputy showed up, demanded $2 for the mirror, got it from Efraim. He asked if they were staying, told them to go to the Crystal River Hotel.
---

TAVERN
------
They went to the tavern instead. In the tavern: Barkeep, piano player, poker players, Lizzie, mayor Wilford Hambley, assayer Ike Turnbull, a couple of deputies.

Zhang spoke to piano player and asked what happened to his arm. "Dr Osgood removed a canker from my arm."

Antoinette and Efraim both talked to Lizzie. She didn't take much of a liking to either. Needs a more sympathetic face to open up to.

Cooter went and talked to the miners.

---

HOTEL
-----
Hired four rooms for a night at the Crystal River. Carl told Cooter and Antoinette that the Marshal hasn't been good for business, and directed them to Deacon Plume or Mayor Hambley for more information about the trouble.

CHURCH
------
In the meantime, the other members of the posse went to talk to Deacon Plume, and took a copy of their Bible.

HOTEL
-----
Investigating the Church's "Bible," it seems to promise mortal eternal life.

CEMETERY
--------
Zhang and Silas investigate Daly's burned-down mansion, then went and busted into Daly's mausoleum (where they found his corpse).

---

JEWEL
-----
Next morning. Fix their own breakfast. Antoinette wants to go to the Jewel for breakfast. They go afterward instead. Two of the girls try to get Silas drunk, but he resists.

HILLS
-----
Antoinette defeated Blood Man with voodoo. Efraim attempted to heal Shelly after the fight, but was unsuccessful. The party talked to her and got her lowdown.

Heard bell: Lizzie has been sliced up by the doctor at her "complexion" appointment.

---

BLUFF
-----
Climb the cliff; meet with Laughs at Darkness. They all get high and pass out. They wake up in the evening, hear two bells. Inspecting the town through a spyglass, Hyram sees a miner flee the Six Feet Under and get gunned down -- and the bell tolls again. The posse heads to the mine (bell again) and enters, seeing an elevator.

MINE
----
Discovered initial elevator trap, and disarmed it. Encountered ghosts of miners, and Zhang engaged them in conversations. In the end, Efraim and Antoinette both agreed to possession by the ghosts.

After a long fight, the mine begins to collapse and squishes the last blood man, and the party flees to the portal.

---

CHURCH
------
Hiram kills Cheval in one shot immediately upon entering the church. Zhang destroys several more (including Dr. Osgood in a Lizzie-suit) with a stick of dynamite. Efraim manages to talk all but one out of their delusion (but that one goes apeshit on him).

Epilogue:

Efraim's sermon reduced the Fear Level in town to a more manageable level, and outlaw Shelly Pearl returned to town to run for Mayor of Coffin Rock, the city her father had founded.

Efraim decided to stay and minister to the flock that Cheval had corrupted and betrayed, as well as the rest of the town.

Hiram signed on as marshal after Marshal Bryce and his deputies fled town during the bloody craziness inspired by Cheval's ceremonies.

Cooter staked a claim on the Cooked Earth Mine, which, like all the other mines in the area, had begun producing again.

Antoinette vanished, along with one of the blood man corpses in the hills.

Silas and Zhang left to seek out more trouble in the Weird West.

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.