Thaddeus is a man most try to ignore, despite his tall and imposing stature. In truth he prefers it that way, always on the lookout for who knows what. Firstborn of the Crowe clan, Thaddeus’s birth turned a quick-fast night of passion, into a family rife with conflict. Pop was a Gambler -never was the best- and took to drinkin whenever he broke even, but on his good ‘n sober days, he’d teach his boy all the ins and outs of just about any card game there was. Believin his boy to have “The Sight,” he even showed him a Hoyle’s Book of Games, to see if Thaddeus could help him find a better way to win. One night when Pop came home, white as a sheet, and reekin of sauce, Maw had had enough of his squanderin, disappearing with Pop and comin home alone the next mornin. From then on, not a soul for miles would pay any mind, when he spoke of strange critters, and ghosts he’d see, or the feelin of a distant evil lurkin beyond the horizon. Following a terrible accident with Abel, Thaddeus ran away from home in his teens, and it's been nigh-on 20 years, since he's seen home.
Abel Crowe is a big man, and not one most forget. At nearly six and a half feet, with hands like bear paws, he moves with a casual calm. Second-born of the flock, he grew up in the shadow of an older brother who took after Pa and always seemed to have a little somethin' extra. Abel was a quiet young'un, but the anger starting flowin' after an awful accident with Thaddeus left him on death's door. He flew the nest when he was nearly full grown to make his mark in the chaos of the civil war. More at home in the saddle than on his feet, he's a man who speaks with lead. Familiar with violence, those who ride with him give him a name to match the rattler tattooed on his right arm: Ti'ish. He returns now to the nest, an appointed circuit judge, with a hard view of justice from his years in the rough riders to seek vengeance for his ma.