Dalton Bradford
IMG 20160811 080953-1-
Date of birth:2183
Date of death:2216
Blood type:b+

A farmer and frontiersman, Dalton was just another person trying to get by in the Badlands. Forced to leave home at a young age, he grew up in rough-and-tumble camps until he struck out into the wilderness. He would find some sucess before dying at an early age.


Dalton would be born the second son of Melinda and Russell Bradford in 2183. Fur trappers, the couples brought their children with them as they traversed the wilderness of what was North Dakota. Dalton would be learning the trade as soon as he could walk, often carrying squirrels or other small game for his parents. His brother would bully him throughout his childhood, with his parent's usually telling him to "toughen up" whenever he complained. His brother would die at Sixteen, when Dalton was twelve, falling through the ice on a pond.

Dalton would be unable to cry when he was eventually fished out and buried, something his parents punished and resented him for afterwards. His mother would fall pregnant two years later, and his parents would use this to force him out of their home. Fourteen and alone he wandered aimlessly, snaring small game and eating berries to survive. He would come across a settlement after a week, a small logging camp by the name of Spittle. He would find work here hauling bundles of wood, barely making enough to pay for food and a bed in the dilapidated bunkhouse.

He would stay here for two years, suffering much abuse from the older men, and inflicting some himself. He was forced to kill a man one night to avoid being raped, and left immediately after. He ran east before drifting around for several years, taking odd jobs from town to town. He would come across an old cabin in 2203, while traveling across the plains. Checking inside he found most of the furniture ruined and holes in the roof, but the structure itself seemed intact. The basement held a packet of turnips, which he humorously planted in the backyard before building a fire.

Deciding to stay there, he would explore the surrounding plains and prairies for anything of use. He would trap and feed on the abundant Prairie dog population as he repaired the cabin. The turnips managed to adopt to the irradiated soil, but had a poor taste. He would find the next crop to be slight mutated though tasting better, a trend that would continue until his death. Getting the cabin fixed and some Turnips stored, he prepared to set out to town to sell his furs. The trip would take a month, and returned with much needed tools.

He would live peacefully for the next thirteen years and have the winter of his life in 2207. He would manage to catch and kill a bison in a pit-trap and eat well the entire winter. He would fall sick in the fall of 2215, with a lingering cough that soon turned serious. Weeping Flu would claim him the next year.


Dalton was a guarded, soft-spoken child. He had no strong connection as a child, a trend that continued throughout the rest of his life. He would become adversarial during his time in the logging camp, which he managed to suppress when looking for work. He was happiest on his own as he didn't have to be watchful of anyone else and could do what he wanted.


Dalton was somewhat short during his childhood, growing as he worked carrying lumber. He had brown hair and eyes, with a Roman nose and semi-constant frown.