Leander 'Toefinger' Crenshaw

[Steam Username]: Gruvee
[Steam ID]:STEAM_0:0:17536689
AGE: 27
-Species/Human or Robotic: Deformed Human
-Character Advantages/Talents: Born and raised in the swamps, Leander's able to traverse the murky landscape with ease, giving him also limited knowledge on landmarks and their locations. Taught from a young age and countless years of constant practice, Leander's an accomplished tracker, able to spot animal or boot-tracks, but only in dirt and mud; grass (and water,of course) eludes him yet. He also has the innate knowledge to brew moonshine with the necessary ingredients.
-Character Disadvantages/Weaknesses: Left foot bent 90 degrees to the left, causing him to limp and only able to run as fast as a jog. Due to being born with the fingers on his left hand being a clumped fleshy mass, he's learned to shoot by propping the barrel of a gun onto his forearm, thus not being able to handle recoil very well. Miscellaneous mental in-capacities, such as only trusting those "with the musk and mold a'tha swamp about 'em".

-Faction
Non-Pyscho Psuedo-Raider[Requires Backstory Detailing Characters Sanity]

-Current Equipment: Muddy Overall Waders, Brahmin-Hoof'd Rubber Boots, a beat-up old long Double-Barreled shotgun with a small amount of ammunition, a rusted and badly up-kept Bowie knife , and a poorly-crafted wooden hunting call.

-Backstory[10-20 Sentences Minimum; Be advised
all applicants that settle or go below the minimum app
requirement will be subject to a simple deny, spend time
on what you want, if you’re not passionate about your
topic to produce a few extra sentences or even paragraphs
then its a red flag- put some effort in here.]

            Since the time when nuclear holocaust scorched the planet in late 2077, the venerable Crenshaw family has sought to keep up with tradition and simply work on their humble plantation, tucked neatly in the swamps off the Maryland townscape, as though there were no such event. Unfortunately such a task proved difficult for the Crenshaws,what with the radioactive haze, but it really dawned on them that they were in a whole new world when their newborns exhibited tell-tale signs of radiation meddling with genetics. No poor baby was untouched, having a cleft-something or a twisted other thing, two babies failing to be delivered because their lungs didn't work or their hearts had difficulty beating. Born in 2213, as the tenth generation of Crenshaw, Leander was raised with his seven other brothers and assorted nephews and cousins. From a young age, Leander was always regarded as the runt of the litter, only growing to 5'7''. Tilling the soil proved too hard a task for the boy due to his deformed left hand, to which he had been born with a jumbled, puffy mass of flesh for a hand, no finger in sight. To that end, he joined with a few other young family members to be taught how to hunt the assorted (and monstrous) wildlife dwelling in the swamps. It should be known now that every Crenshaw on the plantation had a duty, and those that shirked or refused to work were simply lead out by Uncle Stumpy to never return. Luckily for Leander, he had found a knack in tracking and hunting wildlife, going out everyday in his youth with his nephews, brothers,  and cousins, and of course Uncle Roody, who held the gun. Leander's only other duty was to assist in the brewing of moonshine, as an apprentice under Uncle Half-Ass, learning about distilling, fermenting (all with the appropriate ingredients), and finally taste-testing the nectar of the gods, Leander had grown to be a bonafide 'shine brewer.  A freak accident involving Leander sneaking into the swamps with the other mini-Crenshaws to hunt without adult supervision turned sour with the appearance of a salamander-like swamp critter with razor-sharp teeth, resulting in the Leander wrenching the creature off of his nephew Dale only to lose most of the fingers on his right hand. Fortunately they were miraculously replaced at length with the sewed-on toes of his left foot, earning him the moniker Toefinger. The incident maturing him quite a bit, Leander was entrusted to shoot the rifle on hunting trips, despite his disfigured hands. By the age of nineteen, Leander was seen fit to go off into the swamp anytime he wanted with a Double-Barreled shotgun and his badly-constructed hunting calls. Prone to asplorin', Leander would go out in his trusty waders and brahmin-hoof boots (to mask his footprint to people)to visit the nearby crab shack to buy bottles for moonshine or fund the repairs for his trusty firearm. Over the years before Leander was born, the Crenshaws' deformities and xenophonic nature lead them to distrust outsider-folk, usually to the point of violence. Strictly territorial for the exception of other Swampfolk, the Crenshaw family passed down these ideals to their children. Still to the age of Twenty-Seven, in the year 2040, Leander 'Toefinger' Crenshaw carries out his duty for providing meat and hide for his family, though from time-to-time he would go out for months at a time for "special" hunting trips, farther away from the plantation when regular hunting season would be over. In the time of the present, Toefinger would be away on one of these trips.

[DISCLAIMER - INCLUDE HOW YOU GOT YOUR GEAR
IN YOUR BACKSTORY]

All this seems like it checks out. Fucking creepy and quite frankly something out of a redneck nightmare but that just fits this shit perfectly.

I'm going to accept this unless there are any interjections.