Name: Merrick Sheridan Age: 28 Race: Human - Australian Appearance: Slender would be the word that would most easily describe Merrick. Tall and slim, the only indication that he was a man of the outdoors would be his heavily tanned skin and rough hands from spending long hours working or riding under the sun. He has shallow, dark brown eyes, thin lips and subdued facial features. His brown hair licks at his eyebrows and collar of his shirt, and he never lets it grown any longer than that. He wears a modified US Army frock coat, the most distinct modification being that he had dyed the entire thing a soft shade of brown to blend in with the desert sands. Patches of cloth in other shades of brown are sewed onto parts of the coat to give it some form of rudimentary camouflage. A bandanna covering his nose and mouth prevents him from inhaling sand. He often wears a dark brown slouch hat. Gender: Male Personality: Awkward, quiet and introverted. It's when he drinks does he talk a lot, sometimes more than he should. Biography: It is no exaggeration to say that Merrick was born for the wilderness. Born to a bushman and a barmaid in a small town in the outback, Merrick was trained by his father from a young age to live off the land. Given that they were within one of the Australian deserts, that was as well as teaching Merrick how to live off practically nothing. By the time he was eight, Merrick had learned how to identify and prepare plants that were safe to eat, as well as creating rudimentary traps to hunt small game. He fired his first rifle when he was ten and hunted his first big game not two months later. Considered a true bushman when he turned fifteen, Merrick went on to live the life of a hunter and forager, living in the wilderness for up to weeks at a time for the perfect shot to kill his targeted prey. However, Merrick could not help but feel as if there was more to life than just barely eking out a life in the Australian bush. Thus, once he turned eighteen, he decided to take whatever money he had earned from selling meats and hides, along with a small amount gifted to him from his parents, to buy passage to America. Like plenty of immigrants, he had heard stories out how the American west was the place to be if you wanted to carve a life out for yourself and make it rich at the same time. It was going to involve plenty of hard work, but that was nothing Merrick was not used to. Additionally, he was going to make landfall in the thick on it - in California. He went from job to job for a year after that before realizing that he needed a steady source of income. The United States Army, having been bogged down by decades of intermittent warfare with the Native Americans, were more than happy to welcome Merrick into their ranks. He was trained as a cavalryman, fighting with the rifle on horseback and with the sabre at close range. It started out as a wonderful experience, when he was just a scout rider making sure that the road ahead of the army was safe. It was when he actually entered combat when things started falling apart. He had no problems with killing armed men or women - as far as he was concerned, he was simply acting out of self-defense. It was the post-battle killings and occasional mutilations that bothered him. He detested the idea of bringing violence onto anyone who was not involved in the battle. It came to head when Merrick was present at Wounded Knee to witness the massacre. He saw armed Natives being gunned down and bayoneted, but what horrified him was the indiscriminate killing of civilians and the apparent lack of concern shown by the commanding officers. Even though he did not fire a single shot during the massacre, Merrick still felt intense guilt for doing nothing to stop it. Unable to reconcile the idea of a free and equal American with the massacre, Merrick deserted the army. He traveled from town to town, not bothering to use a false name, rightly assuming that the US army had more important things to take care of than to hunt down one deserter out of hundreds. Still, Merrick made a point to avoid settlements that were firmly within federal control as well as tribal lands. The former because he was still worried that he would be apprehended as a deserter, and the latter for, well, even if he was not shot on sight, he could not bring himself to look in the eyes of another Native American without remembering his inaction at Wounded Knee. He had even discarded his army-issue rifle, not just because he disliked it in general, but because it reminded him too much of his past. It did not take long for Merrick to stumble across Paradise, a town beyond the reach of federal agents and plagued by mysterious problems. Still riding on the hopes that he would one day perform enough good deeds to clear his conscience, he decided to stay and offer his services. Equipment: Weaponry - Snider-Enfield Short Rifle, metal cartridge conversion - 2 Colt Single Action Army revolvers - US Cavalry Sabre - Socket Bayonet for the Snider-Enfield - Serrated hunting/skinning knife Kit - Cloth backpack - Breadbag (Essentially a shapeless sling bag) - Ammunition box + shoulder belt (US Army issue, insignia buffed out) - Waistbelt + sheaths for knife, sabre and bayonet (US Army issue, insignia buffed out) Abilities/Disadvantages: + Bushman: Trained in the Australian outback, Merrick is an expert when it comes to surviving on next to nothing. + Sleight of Hand: You'd think he was using a repeater, given how fast he reloads. + Ex-Dragoon: A sniper is deadly enough. A sniper on horseback? That's just unfair. - Deserter: Safe to assume that the US army is not a fan of Merrick. - Enemy of Natives: And neither are the Native Americans. - Heavy drinker: Don't get him started. - Glass cannon: He can deal the damage, but he can't take it back.