Strength: 11 +0
Dexterity: 11 +0
Constitution: 11 +0
Intelligence: 17 +3
Wisdom: 10 +0
Charisma: 13 +1
Jonathan Marsher is 23 years old. Born into a working class family in the outskirts of Flagstaff, Arizona, to a car mechanic single father, Alan Marsher. Exceptionally bright from a young age, Jonathan showed an aptitude for writing which his teachers barely recognised. Seeing many other bright youths his age falling into lives of vice and crime, Jonathan tried his best to keep his nose clean and applied several times to universities, each less competitive than the last. Growing increasingly frustrated, he became a bitter and hostile young man, and at 19, after an acrimonious argument with his father concerning his ‘potential’, Jonathan decided to leave home, grudgingly taking $200 his father had managed to scrounge up for him before his departure.
His juvenile fantasies of the hobo lifestyle of a travelling writer were soon dispelled after sleeping a cold night out in the doorway of a hostile restauranteur’s establishment, shivering from diarrhoea. He managed to just scrape by doing odd jobs where and when he could, but found America to be a more alien place than he’d imagined it to be. He briefly worked for a tiny local publication in Yuma, The Desert Beaver, translating articles from Spanish to English and occasionally printing one of his short stories. This relatively halcyon period in his days was cut short when he impregnated the editor-in-chief’s daughter, Jocasta. He skipped town very hastily afterwards, and occasionally sends letters to her, though she has no way of replying.
After four years on the road, Jonathan has become fairly well integrated into the hobo community of the deserts of the Southern Midwest. He’s gotten into a fair few fights in his time, and done a variety of odd jobs. Most of the friends he’s made have been transitory and often two-faced, so he’s accepted a fairly solitary existence. He writes a great deal in a haggard travel-book, and smokes with what little disposable income comes his way. He has had brief tussles with the law here and there for years, mostly due to shoplifting and possession of narcotics. His most recent run-in was also the most serious, where he stepped in to help a hobo who was being attacked by three youths. He hospitalised one of the boys with a rusty pipe and was forced to run after a manhunt was called in Gila Bend. At 23, he’s just reached the outskirts of Los Angeles, and is not planning on staying for long.
Jonathan has curly brown hair and green eyes, is of average height and build, and has a very unassuming appearance which, combined with his ready smile and mild manner, mean that he is able to inspire trust fairly easily for a hobo. His clothing is ragged but mostly clean, though he rarely finds time to shave. He carries all of his belongings in a battered canvas knapsack. He is fairly unobtrusive and easy to get on with, though he can be a distant and ephemeral friend. Writing has become a routine which he values highly, and although he doesn’t hold any more ambitions to a career in writing, he secretly considers himself a step above other hobos.