[b]Name:[/b] Clayton Robert Blevins Jr.
[b]Age:[/b] 18
[b]Gender:[/b] Yer goddamn right he's a cowboy.
[b]Height:[/b] Six foot.
[b]Weight:[/b] One ninety seven.

[b]Speciality:[/b] 
[indent]Accuracy, even by the standards of his yee-hawing, 'hey y'all watch THIS!' planet. He hits what he's aiming at every time. In addition to his tobacco spitting skills, he's also mighty handy with a rifle, but his ability to land tobacco where he aims it is pretty unnatural. Someone reported him to a commissar as a potential psyker. That pissed Cleet-Bob off. It was found to be a total lie of course, that's all skill, no Nurgle, though Papa Nurgle no doubt smiles fondly upon Cleet Bob's spitting skills.[/indent]

[b]Appearance:[/b] 
[indent][img]http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GKalpoRSdz4/Ss_DMjb7rXI/AAAAAAAAAG0/oDhKcypwSEI/s400/cowboy_hunter.jpg[/img]

He wears a beard and a moustache. If someone were asked to describe him, it'd be 'tall, dark and devoid of deep thought.' In addition to the uniform, he has a duster coat that he brought along just in case the weather is bad wherever they go. His hat is also a genuine Smetson, not that issue junk. It's a far cry from what a Cadian looks like, but at least his skivvies and socks are in camo (realtree), right?[/indent]

[b]Other Appearance:[/b]
[indent]There's a round scar on his bicep from a bullet entry wound, and a funny story to go with that one. [/indent]

[b]Personality:[/b] 
[indent]"What the heyll kinda question is that? You must be a special kind of stupid there." (10)[/indent]

[b]History:[/b] 
[indent]Clayton comes from a prosperous cattle baron family in West Texanis, one of those extended clans that has a lot of the land that's been sub-divided up among cousins but is run by the head of the family like a business. So there was almost no reason to leave family land except for school and hey, there was still plenty of work to do back home. His part of Texanis is particularly rural. They don't always get into politics, but Blevinses have been there for all sort of events; it was a Blevins (his grandfather), for example, that (along with half the planet) shot that carpet-baggin' sumbitch Rogue Trader that was about to set himself up all high and mighty on Texanis and announcing it. That dog just don't hunt.

So, by the time Cleet-Bob got there, they were teaching Human History in the classroom, which was a blood-soaked saga of combat and enemies all around. Sort of like Texanis History Class, but with Alien Space Communists, Alien Hippies, Alien Hooligans and really Alien Aliens. On the day he spoke to the recruiter at Texanis A&M University, Cleet Bob's reaction was, [i]"You mean you want us to sign on up and go to brand new worlds and scrap with all these things we've never even seen before?"

"Yes. It's a terrible place, but the Emprah sacrificed himself..."

"Well hell, sign me up! Those Tau sound like some really snooty sumbitches, think they're good eatin?"[/i][/indent]

[b]Gear:[/b] 
[indent]Peacebreaker autopistol, Gorgemaker shotgun and a sabre. Also, he brought along his dogs. A couple of Texanis Mastiffs; Taylor and Pierce.[/indent]

[b]Gear Personalization:[/b] 
[indent]The biggest modification that Cleet-Bob has is the shotgun. He's added some leather and some wood-carving to the stock for a better grip, and the sling is designed to make it comfortable and easy to use while riding. Most notably, it has a Texanis A&M logo prominently displayed. He's so enamored of making a Tau into food that he's calling his sabre "Sashimi" and is keeping it that dang sharp. [/indent]