Amos Anderson

"Please be dead this time. Please be dead this time. For the love of Christ, please be dead this time."


Amos Anderson
Race: Human
Abilities: Agi d6, Sma d8, Spi d6, Str d6, Vig d6
Skills: Shooting d8, Fighting d6, Gambling d6, Notice d4, Taunt d4, Guts d6, Persuasion d8
Charisma: 2; Pace: 6; Parry: 5; Toughness: 5; Grit: 1
Hindrances: Yellow (Major), Greedy (Minor), Cautious (Minor)
Worst Nightmare: The Pope Lick Monster
Edges: Attractive, Snakeoil Salesman


  • Colt Revolving Shotgun (1-3d6 damage, 5 shots, +2 to Shooting rolls)
  • Lemat Grapeshot Pistol (2d6 damage AP 1, 9 shots, shotgun attachment)
  • Bowie Knife (d6+d4+1 damage AP 1)

Amos Anderson hates being in debt. He hates living hand-to-mouth. He hates having to beg. And above all else, he hates an honest day’s labor.

Amos has always been the cowardly sort; as he was growing up in Louisville, Kentucky, other kids would make fun of him for jumping at every stray noise and moving shadow. One day, on a dare, Amos and his best friend Bill went out to the tracks, where the half-man half-goat half-sheep Pope Lick Monster was rumored to live. Turns out some rumors are true. The Monster pinned Bill to the ground, and, forced to choose between running and standing up to save his friend, Amos chose to flee. Knowing that the town would turn on him for letting Bill die, Amos packed his things and got the Hell out of Dodge.

He spent the next decade running increasingly smoother cons from town to town. One day he’d be a travelling salesman, the next a bank vault “inspector”. He usually succeeded at these, but swindling two-cow towns in the middle of nowhere wasn’t good enough for Amos; he wanted enough money to settle down for the rest of his life and never worry about working again. In a move that he’d regret for the rest of his life, he turned his sight to the railroads. In an attempt to get his hands on a load of ghost rock, Amos disguised himself as a Texas Ranger and tried confiscating a crate from a Watsach train. They didn’t take too well to it, and it wasn’t too long before Amos found himself at laserpoint at the end of a short alley. He was saved at the last minute by the intervention of the commanding officer of the train, who, fortunately enough, was impressed by his abilities. They could use his golden tongue and skill with the shotgun aboard a train, and certainly working for Hellstromme would be a better deal than having to fight him, or worse, the real Texas Rangers if someone should report his con to them.

Amos Anderson now begrudgingly acts as the kinder, sunnier face of mad science, helping the Watsach line move into towns whether they like it or not. However, he considers the arrangement temporary and dreams of a bright future full of expensive liquor and loose women.

Amos Anderson

Railroad to the Reckoning Roguemagus