Marcus Utahn

Character Name: Marcus Utahn.

Nickname(s): Hunts-Further, The Sheriff, Mac.

Race: Human.

Sex: Male.

Age: 33.

Birthplace: Canyon Land, Utah.



Height: 6'4"

Weight: 185ibs

Eye Color: Dark green, flecked with brown.

Hair Color: Dark brown.

Hair Style: He chooses to leave his hair to grow to the nape of his neck, cutting it when it grows long enough to reach the base and not particularly caring of how bedraggled it appears. He allows his fringe to grow but cuts it out of his eye-line.

Facial Hair: A short yet full beard, trimmed short when it grows too long.

Skin Color: Pinkish beige, but suffering from the Wasteland Bronze of the traveler's lifestyle.

Build: Typical muscular build that one could associate with a wanderer. His legs are muscled for the walk, his arms built from survival. He looks like he would fit in well in the Caravan Guard profession.

Distinguishing Features: He has little in the way of distinguishing features, other than the odd scar along his body. His skin is rather worn, too.



Profession: Professional Bounty Hunter.

Skills: Firearms, Survival, Craftsmanship.

Training: Trained in Tribal-style survival tactics, including living purely off the hunter/gatherer roll and hand-to-hand/close contact 'Tribal' weaponry fighting. Trained in firing carbines and revolvers, mostly through experience.

Other Abilities: Also knows how to fish, for what that is worth, and keeps with him a string and a hook. Knows a thing or two about skinning a hide and where to hit common Wasteland creatures if you want to hurt it, a lot.

Apparel: He wears a set of gecko hide leather armour, tanned to a dark brown and reinforced with metal plates over his shins, knees, shoulders and arms. His feet are protected by a pair of heavy-duty hiking boots. He carries around with him a wide brimmed rattan 'cowboy' hat, but he tends to only wear it when relaxing to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Weaponry:

• 6" Combat Knife.
• Two worn .44 Magnum Revolvers.
• An Assault Carbine modified to include a mid-to-long range scope and multiple firing modes (single shot, fully automatic).

Other Equipment:

• H&H Utility Belt used as a herb pouch and to carry small objects including a scabbard for his knife.
• Leather holsters for the two Magnums attached to his hips.
• Bandoleer of 5mm magazines.
• Carries with him a blackened leather backpack with an easy-release Rifle holster stitched into the side which houses his Assault Carbine.
• The backpack contains many pieces of miscelaneous survival equipment, including: tools to create fire, food rations, water pouches attached to the opposite side of the carbine and various items he has found along his travels worth selling or that will aid in repairing his weapons or armour.

Affiliation: None, but himself and his comrades in arms at the time.

Religious Belief: Agnostic.

Sexual Preference: Heterosexual.

Relationship Status: 'Divorced'.

Personality: Marcus is an easy man to enjoy the company of, once you have proven to him that you mean not to harm him. Which is hard. Throughout his time as a Negotiator, Marcus' natural charm would win his way into the hearts of the Tribals he visited. But as the boy became a Man, he realised that not all people were happy to see him. Working as a Sheriff gave Marcus a healthy respect for the Law, albeit the one in his own mind. He has a healthy respect for 'good' folk and traveling merchants, with little to no respect for those who wish to govern over others without their express consent (like the Legion who forced him from his home). Several fights and betrayals have left him untrusting of strangers. Having loved and lost, he also tends to be disinterested in relationships and sex. He hasn't found anyone as good, yet.



Marcus was born with a different name. He was born into a primitive Tribal society that survived in the Canyonlands National Park in Utah, avoiding the skirmishes of the other tribes such as the Blackfoots, the Dead Horses and the White Legs. The tribe of Marcus's origin was the Utahn, taken from the remains of the sign leading into the canyons (Canyonlands, Utah N). The Utahn had their origins as a community of Ranchers, which absorbed several members of Native American tribes once the war had ended the idea of 'Reservations'. The Utahns kept their ranching roots, breeding the new mutated breed of Bighorn Sheep known as Bighorners while utilising the outdoorsmanship brought in by the Native American tribes that knew the land well. Centuries passed and the Utahn forgot their origins. One tribe existed in the place of the two groups, a tribe that knew their surroundings, knew their neighbours, had several trading partners and knew how to survive. Marcus was born into this iteration of the tribe, his name wasn't to be granted to him at birth and his clothing was little more than crude leather strips. The unnamed boy would grow up in the typical Tribal learning experience. He was taught: what to eat, how to eat it and what was worth to the tribe; what herbs would stem the blood flow of the cuts when he fell; how to take the bounty of the land, air and sea for his survival. This and more, he was moulded into an outdoors man. He knew no comfortable bed and his only comfort came from his Tribe. He earned his name when he was but ten years old, after getting lost in search of squirrels and traveling so far he wound up amongst the Dead Horses at Dead Horse point. The Dead Horses returned him, in exchange for young Bighorner, and the unnamed child was granted the name Hunts-Further.

But when the Blackfoots became the Legion and conquered their enemies, the Legion set its sights on all the tribes of the Colorado river basin the Utahn were no exception. Several years after the Legion's formation, the Utahn were given an ultimatum: Join the Legion completely, throwing aside all their cultural identity in the process, and hand over their young and able bodied to be raised as Legionnaires or fight the Legion and be annihilated. The Utahn opted for survival. The Legion had given the Utahn a two week period in which to choose their fate, a time period long enough for Legionnaires to arrive from Blackfoot territory to take what they wanted forcefully. But the Utahn were clever, they had kept the Legion's Frumentarii from entering their village proper. The Frumentarii did not know how many children the Utahn had. They took this to their advantage. When the trading caravans came as per usual, stopping by friendly non-Legion controlled Tribal villages to barter, the Utahn offered many of their possessions to the caravans in exchange for them taking their children in. The caravans knew the use of a trained outdoors man and a large portion of the young Utahn were taken in by caravans. By the time the Legion arrived at Canyon Land, absorbing the Utahn into their anonymous ranks, many of the children were gone. Hunts-Further included.

A young child, no older than 12, was handed to a caravan group originating from deep into north-west Colorado. The caravan was well equipped, metal or leather armour and firearms. The caravan had taken him on as an investment in their future, a scout for knew trade routes. A genuine converted Tribal. To this extent the caravaners all took turns raising young Hunts-Further and each had something to teach the young boy. An ex-NCR trooper by the name of Christine taught him how to shoot a firearm, the prospector of the group (who's name was unintelligible by the young Hunts-Further, who simply called him Vlan) taught him what was valuable in the ruins they passed, the head of caravan security Mike took the time to teach the boy how to maintain all the guard's weaponry and armour. Finally the head of the caravaners, a man by the name of Canadian Fred (who apparently was in no way Canadian), taught the boy how to read, write and properly speak the English language. Their investment paid off. For the next 8 years whenever the caravan stopped outside the various tribal groups of Utah and Colarado (avoiding the Legion banners as they went) the group would send in the young boy to convince the primitives to open their doors and their metaphorical wallets.

The boy performed his job well, being granted various gifts by his new family in lieu of payment for his services. His first weapon, his combat knife, was granted to him so he may better provide for the group. His current backpack, granted to him to hold the various other gifts and rations granted to him. As he aged he recieved more mature gifts, such as his two magnum revolvers. Sadly the fortunes of the caravan ended when the boy had become a man. At around the twentieth year of his life, the head of the caravan passed away from an illness. The caravan knew not what to do as Canadian Frank hadn't left them with any understanding of who would receive what. To prevent any fighting the group headed for the nearest town they could find and sold all the equipment not their own, split the profits and parted company. The young boy wandered for a year, living off the land and working as a prospector with the occasional gun for hire roll to cut down animal populations. It was after this year his life suddenly changed. During a routine trading visit to a small town in Nebraska, Hunts-Further found himself and the community he was in attacked by a group of vicious chemed-up raiders. The group slowly massacred the defenders in a slow firefight and Hunts-Further stood alongside the Sheriff that had paid him against the group and when a rampaging hyped-up raider broke through their lines and threatened to decapitate Hunts-Further the Sheriff saved him from his grizzly fate. Eventually the raiders were faught off, limping back to the hell they came from. The Sheriff had fallen, as had the majority of the town's lawmen. Hunts-Further had nothing but the highest respect for the man that had saved his life, a man that reminded him of the caravaner that had taken him in. Hunts-Further took the name Marcus at this point, the name on the Sheriff's badge (although not the Sheriff's actual name, either), and took it upon himself to guard the town until a more suitable replacement could be found.

Marcus became The Sheriff and he found he liked this job at first. He seemed naturally talented at the law-keeping position and dealt out frontier justice with a firm yet fair hand. He met a woman by the name of Megan, a rancher from one of the nearby communities. They shared many a drinks, tales and eventually a bed. They would 'wed' not long after, intent that they loved each other for better or worse. But happiness was short lived, Megan kept draining Marcus's hard-earned caps on local poker games. She claimed the money was put in 'bad investments' and Marcus couldn't bare to admit she had a problem with it. For five long years they lived like this, until the love faded. The 'mutually' parted ways in a flurry of harsh words and curses, which looking back on it Marcus would prefer he hadn't said. But the next candidate for Sheriff was a good one and Marcus gladly gave the man the job and left the town, to the dismay of its inhabitants.

Marcus never returned to the place. Instead heading off in search of a new job. He found what he was after while in Wyoming. Marcus had killed many a man during his time as Sheriff and it had occurred to him he was quite skilled at the job. Not one he enjoyed, but not one he despised either. He found a couple of contracts on people's heads and opted to give it a go. Armed with his magnum revolvers, his leather armour, an assault carbine he had taken with him from Nebraska and the ol' Sheriff's hat he set out to complete his jobs. He came back one week later with three perfectly preserved heads. Two men had been vile beasts, one was a more private contract for a jilted lover. But he had done as he was asked and paid his due, more than he was often paid for his Sheriff duties. This became his new career and he's been doing it quite successfully for the past 6 years.