Rufus Teague

Truly a man of the people, this deputy's sense of duty sometimes overtakes his common sense.



Strength d8
Agility d10
Vitality d10
Alertness d10
Intelligence d8
Willpower d10

Derived Traits

Life Points 20
Initiative d10 + d10
Endurance d10 + d10
Resistance d10 + d10


Plot Points 7
Advancement Points 0

Skills and Specialties

Animal Handling d6
Covert d2
Discipline d6
- Intimidate d10
- Mental Resistance d8
Guns d6
- Pistols d10
- Rifles d8
Influence d6
- Persuasion d8
- Barter d10
- Streetwise d8
Medical Expertise d2
Melee Weapon Combat d2
Perception d6
- Track d8
- Sight d8
- Hearing d8
Survival d4
Unarmed Combat d2


Ballistic Mesh
50 Pistol Rounds
100 Rifle Rounds
Utility Knife
Fire Jelly (16 hr.)
Canned Food (3 weeks)
2 Decanters of Good Whiskey
Gun-Cleaning Kit
Common Spices (1/2 lb.)
Purification Crystals (20 gallons)
First-Aid Kit
Rope (50 ft.)


Credo: Only draws a weapon as the last resort (Minor)
Dead Broke (Minor)
Straight Shooter (Minor)
Things Don’t Go Smooth (Major)


Wears a Badge: Athens (Minor)


“You ever think God knows what he’s doing before he does it?” Rufus asked his father once. They’d been mending fences for two days, working on the furthest extent of their pasture land. It was a grim place, arid, with low rolling hills covered in scrub grass chewed to the nub. The herd had been through this area more than a month prior by the sign they’d left, and still it looked as if the grass wouldn’t come back. Even as a boy, Rufus could see the dust welling up, the topsoil almost boiling off in the heat – and when there was a breeze he watched it float away.

His daddy, twisting on a bit of wire in a post that had come knocked loose, looked up. His face was worn, and streaked with dirt, and he might have been mistaken for a risen corpse on account of how gaunt he looked if his eyes didn’t pierce you with their gaze. He was not a kind man, but he was fair. The folks in town respected him, mother said, simply because they didn’t know what else to do with him. He set his pliers down and those eyes bore down on Rufus like thumbscrews. He said, “If the ways of the Lord are a mystery to you, Rufus, come Judgment Day, you’ll want to be able to say you done right, whatever His verdict is.”

As a boy, Rufus struggled within himself to do right, but as he matured that struggle died down, the storm quieted until he was always at the eye of the turbulence that disturbed others in their dealings with one another. He told his mother about the moral certainty with which he faced any situation, and she told him that he must be an instrument of God. He told her that His influence wasn’t much of a factor in the decision making process, and she tried to slap him. He caught her wrist and she spat at him. “If it ain’t Jesus in you, then it’s the Devil, boy,” she said. He told her that Satan didn’t have much to say about his actions either, and she ordered him from the house, invoking the memory of his father as a ward against the demon in her only son.

He called his goodbye to her from the yard, tossing his saddle and kit on the roan mare he favored, and rode into town.

Rufus Teague

No Place Like Home Jork