Name: Taheton Alosaka (Previously Taheton Cliffe)
Alias: "Red Crow" (to other Native Americans)
Age: 30

Appearance: Taheton, standing at the height of 170cm and weighing 70kg, is of average height but gifted with a good, solid build, the product of intensive training in the use of dual hatchets and stamina-building exercises. Like most of the people from his tribe, his hair is solid dark brown, deep black in the dark and a lighter brown under sunlight. His long, wavy hair hangs freely save the various braids on the left, intertwined with two crow feathers, one red and one black, as well as tribal beads that symbolise his status as a veteran hunter and accomplished healer. His steel grey eyes are heavy-lidded, giving him an apathetic look, never ceasing in their darting movements, as though there is a constant need to be alert. There is a light crease between his brows due to frowning too much. His eyebrows are low and pinched, contributing further to his serious, no-nonsense look. Since he dislikes the feeling of scruff around his mouth and chin, he keeps himself cleanly-shaved so long as he can afford to do so. His thin, pale lips, straight nose and sharp jawline are directly inherited from his mother. The tanned skin and darker colouring is all his birth father, though.

Clothes are the least of Taheton's concerns. As long as they are a comfortable fit and are able to cover all they are designed to, he would gladly wear them. However, his daily outfits changes depending on his current situation. If he is with his tribe, he adopts the woollen tunics and trousers native Americans favour. If he has to travel across the land on his own, he prefers dark coloured shirts and trousers, with a long overcoat to complete the outfit. The shoes are always the same brown leather ones, as he feels the most comfortable in them.

Personality: Taheton is extremely practical and thus, that makes him rather blunt with his speech and actions. While he can censor the words coming out if the situation calls for diplomacy, most of the time he doesn’t see the need to. This tendency of being very frank has its ups and downs. Some might appreciate his non-sugar coated words while some will be offended. Due to events he witnessed in his youth, he strives to be a man who stands by his principles no matter what it cost him. He can be stubborn and hard-headed when he believes he is right, and refuses to be convinced otherwise unless the opponent manages to bring sound logic into the argument. He refrains from judging people by first impression alone, and usually reserves his opinion until he knows them better.

In the eyes of mere acquaintances, he is a serious person. However, he actually has a humorous side, often displayed in the form of dry or sarcastic comments, especially when hanging around the people he feels comfortable with. Those on that list includes his tribe and a select few outside friends. While Taheton might be a hard person to offend with his seemingly endless patience, he can't stand being belittled since he tries his best in anything he sets his mind to, and can get rather competitive, especially if that particular person proves rather challenging. His temper is a slow simmering fire, not easily coerced to rearing up and retaliate, but the right trigger works like kerosene, making it explosive and abrupt, but dwindles down quickly. The right trigger? Threatening anyone he cares deeply about.

Bio: Mid-winter, when the chilly wind blew across the land, a baby was born in the dark of the night under a half-moon, delivered by an ageing midwife to a single mother. Taheton had never known his birth father except for the fact that he was a member of the nomadic Red Indian tribe Sioux, and he shared the colour of his skin and the mane of dark hair. That was all his mother ever told him, when he was younger and wondering where the other half of his parent was. Year after year passed, and soon curiosity over that question ebbed. He had everything he needed and wanted here, on a small ranch in the middle of Arkansas.

When the little half-Sioux boy turned six, his life went down another path. It was one he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge back then, but looking back now, he rather thought he didn't mind the way life seemed to work out for everyone. With the arrival of a man seeking shelter from an oncoming storm, the time that was seemingly frozen by deep pining and longing started to tick once more. A spark of life returned to the eyes of his mother, a glint that Taheton had never seen before. The man - later revealed to be a doctor - quietly eased his way into the heart of a young mother. Gregory Cliffe did more than soothe. He gathered the broken pieces and melded them back together so it was stronger than ever before. And for that alone, he earned a place in Taheton's eyes and heart. If, was the boy's thinking, he was to stay in this small farmstead and remain with Mother, then I wouldn't mind acknowledging him as Father.

So it was then the young widow was a widow no more, and the little family lived in peace upon their small, fruitful piece of land. The young boy grew in body and mind, learned to properly handle and care for his father's rifle, but was ignorant still of the wider world, having little to no chances of interaction with a large group of people. Only the occasional caravan or wanderer passed through this land, and none took the chance to tangle with his stepfather. Consequently, none stayed longer than two nights before heading out again as if the very devil was on their heels. He would be lying to say it didn't make him curious, but each time he asked, he was answered with a smirk, tapping of fingers on a scalpel and a "don't piss off anyone who can remove metal from your insides and stitch you back up".

But alas, peace was never meant to last. During his seventeenth winter, a party of men came seeking shelter for the night. It was a common sight for the Cliffe family, so with the typical welcome by stepfather and stepson - a sharp smile with glinting scalpels and a pointedly cocked hammer of the rifle - the small party was granted stay for a night. However, unlike the other strangers who came and went, this lot refused to leave peacefully. The leader of the gang tried to persuade Gregory to go with them, promising someone called Richard Dawson would make it worth his time if the doctor was willing to sell his skills.

Upon hearing the name Dawson, Gregory's face went sour, and vehemently refused, snapping at the party to leave this instant. Apparently, that was not the response the gruff man wanted, for he whipped out his revolver and shot Taheton's stepfather square in the chest. In the next moment, Taheton shot the murderer and drove the butt of his rifle into the temple of the closest one reaching for his own firearm. While the rest of the gang scrambled for their guns, Taheton grabbed his mother and ran, mounting the ranch's only horse and fleeing. Amidst the exchange of gunfire, his mother took a bullet to her arm.

The next two days was a blur of events as he pushed the horse to its limit, trying to lose their pursuers. By the time he shook them off his tail, his mother was delirious due to high fever and he was stuck in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, luck shone on him when he stumbled upon a few Sioux scouts who were camped nearby. Due to his appearance and story, they were willing to lead his mother and him back to the main body of the Sioux tribe, who tried their best to treat his mother. However, she had lost too much blood and soon passed.

Thus orphaned, Taheton found a place amongst the nomadic tribe and for the next few years, learned everything he could about the culture, language and people his father was a part of. Here, he discarded the surname of Cliffe and took up his birth father's name of Alosaka. By the age of twenty-four, he was an acknowledged Hunter and Healer of the tribe, earning the name of "Red Crow". Nevertheless, time and circumstances did nothing to lessen the hatred he held for the name Richard Dawson and those under his employment. Not after they tore apart his family.

For better or worse, the ever-moving nature of the Sioux Tribe meant they had to stop by a town every now and then to trade. And each time they did, the name of Dawson never failed to turn up one way or another. Whether it be the form of rumours or gruesome deeds, the man managed to engrave his identity deep in the lands. Enraged that vile beings like Dawson and his men were allowed free reign, Taheton took it upon himself to do what little he could. Sabotaging a caravan transporting gunpowder here, slitting the throats of sleeping mercenaries there. He made sure not to leave incriminating evidence behind. Not that it would have been easy to track him, but there's no such thing as being overly-cautious. Who knows if the man had trackers in his employment.

For years he continued, but it was evidently insufficient. At most, his actions were about as crippling as a pinprick. Taheton wanted - needed - to do more. So it was with little persuasion he agreed to join a man named Henry Leopold Adams when said person offered a place in his quest to topple Richard Dawson.

Weapons: His Springfield rifle is almost always slung on his back, as well as the twin tomahawks at his left hip. A bone dagger for crafting, skinning and cutting is sheathed to his belt at his left hip. A belt of bullets is slung over a shoulder and across his chest.

Relationships:
- Family: None left in the living world
- Sioux Tribe: He views this nomadic tribe as his second family, and the Chief as a grandfather he has never had.
- Henry Leopold Adams: He had yet to form a solid opinion of this man, but he at least respects his ability to survive thus far.
- Others in the party TBA

Recruited?: Yes

Other: He is an accomplished healer in both traditional Indian and western healing methods.
While most Sioux tribesmen and women see no need for mounts, Taheton has a black mustang stallion named Mato.