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5,700 | 157 | 0 | 54 | 1,340 | The Heart Of Gold – Planet Regina
“Shee-niou piece of crap!” shouted an older feminine voice from under the main console in the bridge of the Firefly class ship the Heart of Gold that had landed on planet Regina for some quick repairs. Fingers grasping at the edge of the counter and curling around until the woman pulled herself up and stood up, pushing her white dread locks back over her shoulder so they spilled down her back. Narrowing her eyes she balled up her fist and slammed it against the computer. It blinked a few times before it finally powered up. Grumbling several curses under her breath she made her way out of the bridge and into the main room that the crew used as their kitchen and eating quarters, passing it quickly to continue deeper into the ship and out the back of it where it landed.
The sun was high in the sky and it was far too hot for the captains liking, it may not have been as bad if the ship didn’t seem to keep falling apart on her and causing the crew to make an emergency landing. The only solace she could find was that at least it wasn’t a heavily patrolled Alliance planet and her crew could slip in and out without much worry. With the cargo they carried the last thing she needed was the Alliance to be poking their noses where it didn’t belong. Granted the cargo was the least of her worries right then. She wasn’t exactly on the Alliances top ten list of most lovable and the rest of her crew had not exactly been model citizens but they were a good crew, to a point. Some were newer than others; some had been with her for years. She hadn’t left a person in deep space in over eighteen months, so things were shiny.
“Come on folks, we need to finish up the repairs and get the hell off this dust ball to make our delivery,” she yelled both towards the small town that looked like it was something straight out of an old western back on Earth and into the ship. She wanted to break orbit before the sun set but the way the repairs were going both with the computers and the hull were going slow. Not because of the crew so much but because the cost of parts this far out was a lot more than she was willing to pay. The last two days she had spent being rather persuasive with the local merchants to get a fair price, that persuasiveness usually being the barrel of a gun to the temple of the merchant that was nothing more than some back-berthed low life. It may not have been the most polite way to get her point across but it got the job done and now that they had the parts they needed she felt there was no reason they couldn’t be off world by sunset.
The captain of the Heart of Gold was not the most reasonable person in the ‘Verse but she knew how to run a ship and get the job done. It had been well over ten years since the end of the war and the former browncoat had never really lost her hardened exterior. She had purchased the spacecraft at the end of the way, fixed it up and started finding a crew quickly. Some of those that she had first hired were still with her, others had well…. Gone another path. She wasn’t an easy person to work for but she wasn’t unkind, just harsh. She didn’t mince words and told it like it was no matter the situation. Captain Akechi Lee Ko, better known as either Captain or Lee to those who had known her for a long time, made sure the ship was her crews home. She expected loyalty and paid well, when funds were available. Though there were times there was no money and they would ride on fumes for days while they found a planet to refuel on. That was the life of a smuggler. It wasn’t grand and it wasn’t a dependable paycheck, it brought in the worst type of people and made you look at war as a Sunday picnic but she wouldn’t have it any other way. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,701 | 157 | 1 | 1,499 | 991 | Iean was picked up on Persephone with some of the cargo from that one job that time. Now he has heathens a plenty right here. He helps with the lifting and look out type jobs. Other times he blesses the food quietly and the cargo. He has currently said a prayer for the crappy compression coil three light years past the expiration date. To pass the time in between ports he can be found reading in his room practicing the lepers and hell fire speech for them that need it. Other times he is doing tai chi in the open space of the hold. He wears traditional Shepperd garb and some times his traveling clothes.
There were hints at the skills he hid by the various things he knew that a shepperd wouldn't normally know. The insignia of alliance commanders, the knowledge of covertly gathering alliance signals from the cortex without being detected and passing the info to the captain. In his room he keeps a long brown coat with a hole by the right leg stained with blood in the bottom of his foot locker. The fact that he was in the war as a brown coat is known, but only the few he served with know the real Iean.
Looking at the mechanic who was under one of the consoles Iean scratched his head as to how this situation could be resolved through faith then he remembered one of these guys was a carpenter. Which made him an engineer of sorts. So following that logic and saying something similar to "Heal thyself" in Chinese he hit the console a few times with the good book. Scratching his head again with a smile on his face, "Well, to be fair that normally works on the younger generation." | Name: Iean McKennenith
Age: 28
Position: 'Shepperd'
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Close quarter combat. Ti chi, melee weapons, kung-fu mantis style, tactics, land navigation, communications encryption, Military code recognition, electronic warfare, electronic security bypass procedures
Crimes Against The Alliance: Brown coat. Rank of first lieutenant
Additional Information: Brown coat. Fought in the battle of Rygil 7. Two Metals of valor. Purple heart. Fake right leg at the knee.
Weapons: None
Possessions:Books on earth that was. Multiple religious text.
Personality: Mad prophet "What could it be? Were all doomed! Who's flying this thing? Oh, right. That's just the intercom light."
History: Gentlemen graduate at (West point equivalent) with honors. His parents were proud and members of the elect officials. As the war broke out he was given orders to join a unit with the alliance. He had some disagreement on that point. Believing The rights of the individual out weighed the needs of the state. Instead of joining the alliance Iean took on a brown coat. He fought hard and was know to his men as the solider. Regardless of rank Iean made it a point to be on terms with his men. He never left one on the battle field and weighed the risk to his men over the mission. The crushing defeat at Serenity valley forced command to send a wave to lay down arms. He rallied those who were willing and saved those who were pinned down during the surrender. The over use of force by the alliance made him a brown coat for life. As the smoke cleared Iean was being fitted with a prosthetic and awarded his purple heart. Now fresh from the Abby he aims to spread the word to those that need it. |
5,702 | 157 | 2 | 1,032 | 421 | Sure thing, Captain! Hannah chirped pleasantly as the white-haired woman berated the crew. She took the Captain's tough love in stride; she'd been taking it in stride for years, after all. She was pretty sure it wasn't actual anger. ...pretty sure.
The pint-sized space pirate didn't try to jump in on the ship part wrangling—she was no engineer. Instead, she continued on her path into the ship, whistling cheerfully as she walked up the cargo ramp, arms wrapped around a wooden crate almost as big as her torso. Anyone peeking between the slats would see smaller metal boxes marked 'munitions' and 'warning: explosives' with faded block letters. It almost didn't seem possible, looking at the round, sweet face of the person carrying it, but there must be at least fifty sticks of dynamite in there.
Her favorite kind of cargo—especially if she got to surprise the captain with it later. Hannah kept up the jaunty tune as she proceeded into the ship, planning on taking her load straight to her bunk. These kind of incendiaries would be safe away from prying eyes...and she could attend to them privately later. Not that she was weird about explosives, or anything, she just...gave them special attention. She waved to the preacher as she passed through the bridge, smiling slightly to herself. Soon, they'd be getting off this dustball planet, and back up in the black. | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,703 | 157 | 3 | 2,489 | 654 | April rose from her seat in the cockpit and rolled the kinks out of her shoulders. Truth be told, she was getting pretty sick of these emergency landings - not that she had any difficulty with them. When she'd taken this job a few months ago, it had seemed lucrative, exciting, and a good way out of some hot water. The Heart had needed a pilot, and April had needed a ship. What nobody had told her was that the ship was a complete rustbucket.
Well, maybe the new parts the Captain had... 'acquired' would get that straightened out. If she was lucky, it might even happen this millennium.
"What the shit is taking so long?" she hollered back as she stormed out of the cockpit. "Yall hired me to fly a ship, not look cute, so any chance I'm gonna get to do my job?" The impatient pilot began storming through the ship towards the engines, rolling her eyes as she walked past Preacher Weirdo banging on something with his book. She passed by Hannah, the slightly off-kilter demolitionist, and elbowed her good-naturedly.
Rolling her sleeves up, April arrived at the engine room. The girl lowered her goggles onto her head and bent down to survey the problem. "Wow. Our baby girl is fucked." The girl winced as she surveyed the damage. The ship had never been in great condition, though much of the obvious wear and tear was clearly from the engines being pushed quite a bit past what could be expected of them. "Shit. I do that?"
Without waiting for an answer from the ship's engineer, April grabbed a wrench from nearby and knelt down to being making repairs | Name: April Cooper
Age: 19
Position: Pilot
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Pilot, Navigation, Mechanic, Flyer, Drive, Astrogation, Streetwise, Zero-G, Carouse, Gun Combat (Pistol)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Larceny, Hijacking, Theft of Motorized Vehicles, Theft of Spacecraft, Contempt of Court
Additional Information: Never an actual member, but significant Browncoat leanings.
Weapons: One Enfield Revolver, and... that's it.
Possessions: Several piles of junk she keeps in her bunk/the cockpit, containing souveniers, knick-knacks, mementos and nothing of any real value.
Personality: April is compassionate, firey, and cheerful. She's an incorrigible optimist and cares a great deal for the people close to her, though this doesn't detract from her tendency to be snarky and/or foul-mouthed to them. She has a bit of a temper and is very quick to argue with people she believes to be in the wrong, though she'll generally forget about it just as quickly if they're her friends. She can be something of an adrenaline junkie when it comes to making things go fast, though she never really puts herself or anyone else in danger. She also has a problem with authority about a mile wide - credit it to her upbringing.
History: April was born on a poor outer planet called Natawalk. Her parents were both Browncoats who died in the rebellion, so for as long as she can really remember she was raised by her uncle. As she grew up, she quickly discovered a talent for piloting, driving, and otherwise operating vehicles, as well as an ability to make them go. She left her home at sixteen years old to make her own way in the star system, immediately beginning a crime spree of hijackings, joy-rides, and Robin-Hood style redistribution of wealth. |
5,704 | 157 | 4 | 1,641 | 929 | Listen, I've told you everyday for the past week, I don't make goram rocket launchers, Silas sighed, rubbing his face in frustration.
"But what if you did?" asked a scraggly, slightly unhinged looking goat farmer who was missing one eyebrow. "C'mon! I got the coin," the man persuaded, waggling his lone brow at the gunsmith.
'I need to get off this planet,' Silas mused, shooing away the grungy farmer. 'Nothin' on this rock but crazies. What does that man even need a rocket launcher for? Is he gonna blow up his livestock?' The brunette thought, packing up his wares briskly. He glanced over at the shipyard, were there was a single ship docked. It was smoking ominously and it's captain was yelling orders back into the cargo bay at the crew. 'Should probably wait for the next one, that thing looks like a death trap.'
Just as Silas was making plans to stay another night, he spied the goat farmer again, staring at him through the window of the local saloon an waving excitedly. "Nope," Silas mumbled to himself, locking up the crates and making his way over to the ship, nodding at the dreadlocked woman he assumed was in charge.
"Are you taking on travelers?" | Name: Silas Fairbanks
Age: 29
Position: Gun Smith
Skills: Gun smiting and repair, Crack shot, Gun combat (Specialty in Sniper Rifle), Blending in, Haggling, Basic knowledge of explosives, Decent accountant, Excellent cook.
Crimes Against The Alliance: Illegal distribution, Tax evasion.
Additional Information: Silas is proficient with most firearms but quite awful at hand to hand combat. Being raised on Dyton (The same moon as Badger), he has a slight Irish accent.
Weapons: Bolt action sniper rifle and a basic handgun his father made. Silas has other guns of course, but they’re for selling and not personal use.
Possessions: Two crates of weapon merchandise (stored in the hull of the ship), gun smithing tools, and a small collection of seasonings.
Personality: Silas is a confident, soft spoken man who mostly keeps to himself. Don't let his quiet demeanor fool you though, he's a thrill seeker at heart and loves anything that gets his adrenaline up. Silas is also brave and stays calm in the face of danger, often not having to think twice about walking into dangerous situations. This has gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.
History: Born and raised on Dyton, Silas's parents where local weapons merchants, with his father creating the firearms and his mother running the business. Young Silas would rush home from school everyday to help his father at the workbench and helped his mother balance the books at night. They weren't wealthy, but they weren't poor either and Silas was very happy.
When he finished school Silas continued to help his parents, until the war broke out, when his primary job became smuggling weapons and ammunition to the Independents behind enemy lines. When the war ended, Silas decided to strike out on his own. He went to a gun smithing school for a few years to hone his craft before making his own weapons and selling them under the table on different border planets. |
5,705 | 157 | 5 | 2,677 | 6,563 | Benny had been picked up when they got this cargo- it was him, in fact, that needed to get it moved, and him that got the job for the cap'n. He may have said something out of hand, and his boss may have gotten angry, and so he offered to transport the goods for cheap in record time... hence why he was on this rust bucket.
He sat in his room looking at the relatively cramped quarters. It was such a downgrade- how could he possibly work efficiently when the walls and ceilings were peering over his shoulder, like so? Even Garry seemed out of sorts- he was in power-down mode, which he only did when the small artificial intelligence was feeling stressed or especially tired.
He shivered, and left his cramped room, trading that for a far too fragile door and for a cramped hallway. He felt like Heart of Gold was watching him- he started whispering quietly, as he walked up to the bridge, so low that no one could understand.
He stepped past the captain without even acknowledging her presence- even as he made way for her, his eyes were focused elsewhere, on a thought, sightless. He navigated up the steps, pulled out a small wireless device, and crouched to peer under the second console's desk, shifting through wires and pieces of technology, before finding what he was looking for. He pulled out a wire, plugged the device into its port, and then plugged the wire into the device- leaving the entire thing completely uninterrupted, except now he can remotely talk to the ship.
He pushed himself out from under it, and pulled out a 'desk' from a pocket on the side of his pants- a book-sized inch-thick piece of military technology, know for being practically indestructible. Its touch screen lit up as his fingers touched the hidden fingerprint scanner, and he started sorting through Heart of Gold's systems remotely, requesting troubleshootings and inserting handcrafted pieces of code into various pre-selected programs, altering them slightly to improve efficiency- and keep him locked in.
The he set it to sleep mode, strapped it back to his leg, and walked back down to the cargo bay to get a breath of fresh air. Heart of Gold may be a beauty, but she made him uncomfortable beyond words.
After walking straight down the middle of the ramp, he whistled, calling Garry- his little robot- which scurried down from his room, six radial legs working fast to move him to his destination. By the time he sat down, Garry had leaped a whopping ten feet and perched on his shoulder, rubber-tipped legs gripping his jacket.
He pulled his admin desk out of its pocket again, and started tapping away, solving problems within the ship with a tablet.
And when a man walked up asking if they were accepting travelers, all he had to say was, "Oh. Hello. Talk to the cap'n." Then he went back to his work. | Name: Benson Bartholomew Higgins - Aliases: "Benny," "Ben," "Higgs," "BENSON BARTHOLOMEW HIGGINS!"
Age: 24
Position: Security? Cybersecurity? Neural Networking? Electronic Warfare man.
Appearance/Clothing:
- 1 tac-gray baseball cap made of kevlar with a spun titanium core, with holographic display and headset included
- 1 red No Piston Inside long-sleeve tshirt
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility jacket (plus a backup), includes a battery pack and a universal charger for drones (he has a drone)
- 1 chort-leather set of utility cargo pants (tan-colored pants shown)
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility cargo pants (gray colored pants shown)
- 1 worn Shia LaBeouf Just-Do-It brand tennis shoes (plus backup)
Skills:
Hacking,
shooting,
running,
more running,
running on things he shouldn't run on (parkour),
rudimentary skill at driving anything with wheels or gravitronics (anti-grav stuff),
knows lockpicking and welding pretty well (sometimes you have to pick an actual lock, other times you gotta just cut through it),
Knows how to make a mean peach-cranberry cobbler.
Crimes Against The Alliance: He once hacked into a backdoor of an AI on one of the big cruisers, and got it to think that the entire crew were enemies. Another time, he hacked into some rich guy's (he had like this laser pistol or somethin, someone tried to steal it and everyone left one of the displays unattended) bank account and took nearly all his money, and then redistributed it to the Gay Power Association of the System (GPAS), and a whole bunch of other smaller-scale hacking stunts, like reprogramming an ad AI to display random videos of The-Earth-That-Was, such as a recovered "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" video, which gave the Shia LaBeouf Clothing Manufacturer a jumpstart.
Additional Information:
- Paranoid about certain things
- Obsessive about other things
- Can get very, very deep in thought sometimes
- Absolutely horrid at making metaphors or similes
Weapons:
- Fists
- Feet
- Elbows
- Knee
- M34 Combat Sidearm
- SAT-K23 Combat Knife
- Charming personality
Possessions:
A small drone he affectionately calls "Garry"
Some ammunition for his handgun
Various computers, cords, and devices
A very worn but cared-for lockpicking kit
A bunch of electrical replacement parts
A blanket he occasionally wears over everything else, that was white with blue borders, quilt-style
Personality:
To be roleplayed? He's unique. Really.
History:
Ask him about it! |
5,706 | 157 | 6 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain looked over towards Hannah and nodded as she boarded the boat with her box of goodies; she could never understand how that girl always seemed to remain so chipper, nothing seemed to bother her. Shrugging to herself she passed it off as being young but even when Captain had been young she hadn’t been that chipper. The girl got the job done, so that was all that mattered to her. Reaching into her vest she pulled out a pack of cigarettes where she had a lighter stuffed into the pack. Pulling out a single one, she placed it between her lips and flicked her lighter. Taking a long pull from it before exhaling she glanced around as she leaned against the outside of the ship, waiting for the rest of the crew to load up and for the repairs to be finished.
Perking a brow as she watched a man carrying some cargo approach the ship she took another pull from her cigarette as he came over to her and spoke; asking if she was taking on passengers. Blowing the smoke out from between her lips roughly she looked him over for a moment before nodding yes and then shaking her head no.
“I could be, depends on who you are,” she stated flatly as she pushed off the ship and tilted her head to the side. “What you want and what you can offer,” she added before flicking the cigarette off to the side, it landing in the dirt and smoldering there until it went out of its own accord. She was about to say more when Benny came over to them. At the words that passed she rolled her eyes slightly and walked over to where she had flicked the cigarette and picked it back up, relighting it and taking another long pull from it.
“Gorram crew gonna drive me to an early grave,” she muttered with the smoke held between her lips. Turning she walked back over to the two and shooed Benny away. “Go get that computer console fixed, I’m tired of the wires frazzling out and the navigation system blinking out. April is probably tired of flying blind. I know I am,” she stated quickly before turning her attention back to the new comer.
“So, who are you, what do you want and what can you offer?” she asked as she removed the cigarette from her lips and stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,707 | 157 | 7 | 2,649 | 479 | The ship seemed a clutter with the sounds of work, from fore and aft. Far back from the rest of everyone was the clanking sound of work in the engine room. There was only one at work, a man hard at work under the engine with tools for the job. He played with wires and reached through them, getting to the different parts to make the ship flight ready again.
Cyrek Krusek was in the process of replacing an engine part when he heard the familiar sound of complaining, as someone he recognized too well burst into the room. He turned his head to take a look as the pilot grabbed a wrench to start working on it herself.
"NO. FUCK NO. GET THE FUCK OUT. I NEVER SAID YOU COULD BE IN HERE!" Cyrek raised his voice in contempt. If he needed or wanted help, he would go out and ask for it, but for the majority of the time, he stuck to working on it himself. Of course nothing pissed him off more than when the pilot came in and tried to work on it.
A wrench soon went flying towards her, only to arc and hit the ground beside her. "Get out! GET!" He called, shooing her away like an old man to a child. | Name: Cyrek Krusek
Age: 30
Position: Ship's Mechanic
Appearance/Clothing:
Stands at 5'8". His usual attire is everything pictured along with a leather jacket that protects him from sparks while working on the ship. He also has a much less burned leather jacket, which is more of his 'special occasion' jacket.
Skills: Welding, engine work. He wouldn't be able to fly a ship, except maybe to save his life(like one of the lifecrafts). He can shoot well enough to kill and fight. He's strong enough to go punch for punch with the best, but he's not an expert in any fighting style other than street brawling. Strangely, he possesses the talent to work on the ship's engines while drunk. He can also shoot and fight while drunk fairly well. He likes to lift weights when not working on the engines. Smoking, if that can be called a skill.
Crimes Against the Alliance: Taking other people's vehicles and ships(vehicle theft). Aiding and abiding offenders of the law(in other words, his business was for criminals and he did a lot of work for smugglers).
Weapons:
12 gauge. He uses oo buckshot with it.
Chambered in 30-30 winchester.
His pride and joy.
Possessions: Welding goggles, all sorts of tools which he keeps in a tool box and cabinets, all for repairing the ship and any appliances.
Personality: He's very touchy about the engines. He doesn't like it when someone else tries to conduct work on them other than himself, unless he deems them worthy. He has great pride in his work as a mechanic and considers himself a welding artist. He's still a very charismatic man, generally being happy as long as his engines are purring and the ship is still flying. He loves to drink himself into the ground after a hard days work. He can be pretty ornery when everyone is tugging him every which way to repair something.
History: Cyrek was raised by his mother and her siblings. His uncle was a great influence in his life, teaching him all he knew about mechanics. He became mostly fascinated with welding, as there was a lot of welding to do in the scrapyards that his family owned and worked in. He took up repairing the body of vehicles and aircraft as it involved the most welding, but he made their engines purr.
The scrapyards wasn't all that legal, in reality. They stole vehicles and crafts of varying types, and tore them apart and started selling them for the parts. That was how the business always worked. The problem with illegal activities like this was they get the attention of either the law or other gangs. In this case, it was the other gangs. They ended up stealing the wrong crafts and got into a turf war with a drug running gang.
His long time girlfriend, who was a stripper(not exactly the best choice in women), ended up leaving him when the turf war started. She started a relationship with the son of the boss of the drug running gang.
This resulted in bloodshed on both sides, Cyrek losing his family to the scrapyard being burned and blown up. Cyrek ended up killing the boss, the boss's son, his ex-girlfriend, and burned everything they worked for to the ground. In the end, there were no winners in the turf war. All of this hell was soon interrupted by the Alliance coming in and breaking up their personal war.
Cyrek had to make a quick escape from his old path, leaving the Alliance to deal with the fallout and all of the rival gang that was left. Cyrek ended up selling himself off to a ship known as the Heart of Gold. |
5,708 | 157 | 8 | 1,641 | 929 | “I could be, depends on who you are,” the captain replied blandly, tilting her head like a thoroughly disinterested cat. “What you want and what you can offer," the woman continued, discarding her cigarette. A young man walked out of the hull with a mechanical spider like creature on his shoulder and some high-tech gizmo in his hand. He murmured something that made the captain so frustrated she actually picked the old cigarette back up and relit it. As she barked orders at what Silas assumed was one of her crew, the gunsmith couldn't help but take a long inhale of the second hand smoke. 'Jesus, that's good,' the brunette thought, hands flexing on the strap of his duffle bag. He had quit smoking three years ago, but he still had the urge whenever he was around cigarettes.
While the captain was minding her crew, Silas took a moment to study her. She was a taller woman, with sleeves of tattoos on each arm and eyes so light that they almost appeared colorless. The stern way she carried herself suggested that she didn't put up with anyone's shenanigans and the way her biceps rippled as she shooed the male technician told Silas that she would probably wipe the floor with him in a fist fight.
“So, who are you, what do you want and what can you offer?” The captain asked again, turning her attention back towards Silas and pulling him form his thoughts.
"Silas Fairbanks. I'm just trying to get to a different planet so I can sell my wares. I've got some coin," he told her, before he glanced over at another woman who was carrying a large box marked, 'munitions'. "...I've got ammo and the like to trade, but it seems like you've got that covered," Silas finished, nodding at captain's crew member. He entertained the idea of sticking his hand out for a handshake, but decided against it. This woman didn't seem like the type who enjoyed those sort of gestures. | Name: Silas Fairbanks
Age: 29
Position: Gun Smith
Skills: Gun smiting and repair, Crack shot, Gun combat (Specialty in Sniper Rifle), Blending in, Haggling, Basic knowledge of explosives, Decent accountant, Excellent cook.
Crimes Against The Alliance: Illegal distribution, Tax evasion.
Additional Information: Silas is proficient with most firearms but quite awful at hand to hand combat. Being raised on Dyton (The same moon as Badger), he has a slight Irish accent.
Weapons: Bolt action sniper rifle and a basic handgun his father made. Silas has other guns of course, but they’re for selling and not personal use.
Possessions: Two crates of weapon merchandise (stored in the hull of the ship), gun smithing tools, and a small collection of seasonings.
Personality: Silas is a confident, soft spoken man who mostly keeps to himself. Don't let his quiet demeanor fool you though, he's a thrill seeker at heart and loves anything that gets his adrenaline up. Silas is also brave and stays calm in the face of danger, often not having to think twice about walking into dangerous situations. This has gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.
History: Born and raised on Dyton, Silas's parents where local weapons merchants, with his father creating the firearms and his mother running the business. Young Silas would rush home from school everyday to help his father at the workbench and helped his mother balance the books at night. They weren't wealthy, but they weren't poor either and Silas was very happy.
When he finished school Silas continued to help his parents, until the war broke out, when his primary job became smuggling weapons and ammunition to the Independents behind enemy lines. When the war ended, Silas decided to strike out on his own. He went to a gun smithing school for a few years to hone his craft before making his own weapons and selling them under the table on different border planets. |
5,709 | 157 | 9 | 1,499 | 991 | Seeing the vulgar display of aggression forced the shepherd to speak up. "Brother, need I remind you of the good Samaritan story? The book says forgive and forget, love thy neighbor, be kind and rewind, no wait... I'm not sure on the last part. Ah, here it is. And he looked down and saw the debauchery and sin and they worshiped strange... No not that one either. Here it is!" His face grew dark and the voice was stern. "And they painted a "X" on the door in blood lest death visited their home." Satisfied from the look Iean was receiving that the message was taken to heart, he walked out of the engine room and into the hold to see if any new members had joined the heart of gold.
They had new comers, one in desperate need of prayer. Iean Walked down the stairs to the hold and greeted them. "Greetings(in Chinese)" He bowed respectfully. "My name is Iean I look after this flock if there is any type of spiritual needs that have gone unattended then please allow me the honor to guild you to the enlightenment of your choosing." He stood there with a smile and the buddy Jesus pose. He saw the weapons and ammo containers that were being secured. Iean shook his head. He stood there still allowing the new comers to receive his word if they asked. | Name: Iean McKennenith
Age: 28
Position: 'Shepperd'
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Close quarter combat. Ti chi, melee weapons, kung-fu mantis style, tactics, land navigation, communications encryption, Military code recognition, electronic warfare, electronic security bypass procedures
Crimes Against The Alliance: Brown coat. Rank of first lieutenant
Additional Information: Brown coat. Fought in the battle of Rygil 7. Two Metals of valor. Purple heart. Fake right leg at the knee.
Weapons: None
Possessions:Books on earth that was. Multiple religious text.
Personality: Mad prophet "What could it be? Were all doomed! Who's flying this thing? Oh, right. That's just the intercom light."
History: Gentlemen graduate at (West point equivalent) with honors. His parents were proud and members of the elect officials. As the war broke out he was given orders to join a unit with the alliance. He had some disagreement on that point. Believing The rights of the individual out weighed the needs of the state. Instead of joining the alliance Iean took on a brown coat. He fought hard and was know to his men as the solider. Regardless of rank Iean made it a point to be on terms with his men. He never left one on the battle field and weighed the risk to his men over the mission. The crushing defeat at Serenity valley forced command to send a wave to lay down arms. He rallied those who were willing and saved those who were pinned down during the surrender. The over use of force by the alliance made him a brown coat for life. As the smoke cleared Iean was being fitted with a prosthetic and awarded his purple heart. Now fresh from the Abby he aims to spread the word to those that need it. |
5,710 | 157 | 10 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain lifted her hand and took a long pull from her cigarette, holding in the breath for a moment and then exhaling through clinched teeth as she heard the commotion in the engine room from the ships mechanic. It seemed that April had wandered into the wrong part of the ship, once again and was trying to move in on Cyreks domain. Captain didn’t care if the girl made repairs, she felt it would move things along faster if two people worked on the problems instead of one but Cyrek was very possessive of the ship and the work he did. He hated people in his territory.
“Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng,” she spat before holding two fingers up, the smoke resting between them to Silas; noting to give her a moment before she walked over to the com and pressed a button. “Bizui!” she yelled into the com box. “April, get your narrow behind out of there before Cyrek throws a wrench at you!” she bellowed and then heard the crash of what she assumed was a wrench. “Well, before he throws another one!” she added before hearing the Preacher pipe in and had to stifle a laugh. Preacher had balls talking to Cyrek and as much as she wanted to listen in she had others things to attend to.
Shaking her head she turned back to Silas and shrugged. “Yeah, I got room, but this ain’t gonna be no gorram joy ride and we don’t make special stops. Ya eat what we ration you, stay out of the way and report to Hannah, the chipper one,” she said before noticing that Preacher had come out to meet the new comer. Shaking her head. “second deck, third door on the right is your bunk, I’m getting out of here before this one tries to baptize me,” she said taking another pull from her cigarette and walking back into the ship. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,711 | 157 | 11 | 1,171 | 41 | It was the steady and familiar beat of a wave notification that woke her, not the roar and panic of the ship nearly crashing some two days prior. The noise reduction bulkheads she had lined in her shuttle added about an inch of thickness and cramped it in a bit but she slept better than the dead. Chang'e let herself yawn and stretch out and indulge in the pain of her limbs reminding her of life. She let the pinging go on for another minute or so while she did a quick inspection in her mirror. She pinned her waist-length hair into an impromptu bun, wrapping it over and over and letting the excess flow spill over her left shoulder. She wrapped herself in a red silk gown and cleaned off the evidence of drool off the corner of her lips.
It had been five (ten?) minutes before she answered the wave. Her monitor came alive with a young man with brown doe eyes who looked as though he had been waiting all this time in the same alert position. He was staring into the monitor with the attentiveness of an earnest lover that was waiting for the response to an all too important question. Chang'e regarded him with a polite smile, felt a yawn coming on, and stifled it with sheer force of will and a tilt of her head. "Oh! Did I, uh, wake you," he gulped and managed a smile that melted away the tension he built up in waiting. "Meihao de yuanjing?" So familiar, nánhái?
"No, no. I've just been..." She feigned at trying to come up with some clever lie by looking off to her side. She was thinking about breakfast and if she had enough provisions stored to keep off that protein poison the captain fed her crew. Then she brought her vision back to her monitor and laughed; a light and embarrassed admission of being caught in a lie. "Yes, you did. Traveling by space and not having the sun and moon to dictate my schedule has me...out of sorts."
"Oh, yes! I understand. Are you, I mean, I'm forgetting what to say." He took a moment and breath and started to speak, "You do me a great honor in responding to me, my lady. When I saw your signal come alive over all the stars and all the moons and..." He looked down off monitor. Chang'e took this moment to pop a small ball of dried tofu into her mouth. His gaze came back and it began. He stumbled over the declarations of her beauty and his good fortune and she eased him into natural conversation. She found him to be the nephew of a childless land owner, moving into this planet for property and possibly mining. He mentioned about a quarter of this. She inferred the rest. He kept looking off-screen. Possibly trying to figure out the ship's location. More likely re-verifying her guild status.
"You understand I cannot make commitments as this is--" He stopped her just shy of saying no.
"I do! I only ask that for what little time you are here that you...would do me the honor of joining me for a late lunch? I'll send a boy to fetch you. If you'd join me he'll take you to my estate. If you cannot...please, have him take you where you need to go. Allow me the pleasure of assisting you in some way." He glanced off screen again, furrowed his brow, and cut off the transmission abruptly. Chang'e thought him bookish and too clever for his own good.
Richard was awake and was a small bundle of brown fur nuzzling at her ankle. She pressed back gently with her bare feet and set about her routine. She spent the remainder of the free fall dressing herself, occasionally stumbling into her furniture, still disoriented. She slipped into loose fitting white low-waist ankle length pants and threw on a white dress imposed with blue flowers and a blue hem and silver sandals. She worked her hair into a braid. A silver chain hung off her left earring, hooked onto a hawk feather. Her make up was understated; a light blush and peach colored lips.
She walked out of her shuttle just as the ship landed. Outside of her noise-cancelling bulkheads the life and teaming personalities clashed through the echoing passageways. Her brief walk through the overhead and down the stairs into the hangar bay already open and letting in fresh air. She caught the captain in passing. The woman smelled of cigarette smoke and sunlight.
"Captain." She offered a polite smile in greeting. "How much longer will we be staying?" She said so in a sing-song voice and walked passed the captain as she said it. She was already expecting the growl and unhelpful remark she'd become accustomed to. | Name: Chang'e
Age: 26
Position: Companion
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Language (Common, Chinese, German), Lore (Societies, History) Deception (Manipulation), Art (Educated in most aspects, not especially good at all of them. Special mention to her talents in singing, bass, and accordions), Flyer, Astrogation, Carouse (perfectly at home in high society or a back alley bar), Keen Insight (people = magazines to be browsed), Athletics (Yoga, strength training, easily gets caught up in health fads that get waved to her), Masseuse, Archery, Discipline, Liaison, Diplomat.
Crimes Against The Alliance: First Degree Murder (Acquitted)
Additional Information: Keeps a bunny named Richard in her shuttle.
Weapons: She keeps a few ornamental weapons; a gentleman's sword given to her as a gift, a golden titanium super-imposed laser pistol never fired, and her own bow from her Academy training. The bow is the only weapon she's ever practiced.
Possessions: Her shuttle and everything in it
Personality: Truth is singular and the best the Verse can offer are varied half truths that contradict and blend and confuse. As a Companion and tourist of various societies she takes the truth and lies with a small smile, sigh, and sip of tea.
She has that undefinable allure that welcomes others to rest and drink in for a moment's respite. An allure she works very hard to look effortless. Yet around the Firefly crew she has made a point to act coy and blush at the most innocent of questions. This was another of the 'Verse's many half-truths that didn't quite define a woman who seemed adamant to remain ephemeral in her interactions with the crew.
History: Tears, Sweat, Blood, and Tea. Rented out Heart of Gold's shuttle a month ago and has spent most of that month having it renovated to suit her needs. |
5,712 | 157 | 12 | 2,489 | 654 | April scrambled out of the way of the (somewhat anticipated) wrench. "Hey, woah, grease monkey! Look, I know yall does dirty things to these engines when nobody's looking, but it don't mean nobody else can take a look at them. Maybe we'd actually get somewhere if you wasn't this ship's crazy, jealous ladyfriend!"
April put her hands to her hips, fully prepared to have another spat with the engineer, when the com box beside her crackled. "April, get your narrow behind out of there before Cyrek throws a wrench at you! Well, before he throws another one!" April rolled her eyes and spoke back to the box. "May be narrow, cap'n, but I can do great things with it." She turned and left the sputtering engine room and its fuming guardian.
Moving back to the cockpit, her eyes half dulled with boredom, she happened across the captain talking to a stranger. From the gist of it, it seemed like the man was asking for transport on the ship, and was prepared to pay for it with ordinance. Approaching as the man sealed the deal with the captain, April extended a hand, offering a confident smile. "You flying with us? My name's April Cooper, I'm the pilot. You're more'n welcome aboard as far as I'm concerned, but, uh..." She leaned in slightly and offered a mischievous grin, tapping him on the chest with two fingers. "When I say hold onto something? Hold onto something."
She turned and saw Chang'e, the companion, also speaking to the captain. "Oh, hey Dajie. You got another date? Want me to drive?" | Name: April Cooper
Age: 19
Position: Pilot
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Pilot, Navigation, Mechanic, Flyer, Drive, Astrogation, Streetwise, Zero-G, Carouse, Gun Combat (Pistol)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Larceny, Hijacking, Theft of Motorized Vehicles, Theft of Spacecraft, Contempt of Court
Additional Information: Never an actual member, but significant Browncoat leanings.
Weapons: One Enfield Revolver, and... that's it.
Possessions: Several piles of junk she keeps in her bunk/the cockpit, containing souveniers, knick-knacks, mementos and nothing of any real value.
Personality: April is compassionate, firey, and cheerful. She's an incorrigible optimist and cares a great deal for the people close to her, though this doesn't detract from her tendency to be snarky and/or foul-mouthed to them. She has a bit of a temper and is very quick to argue with people she believes to be in the wrong, though she'll generally forget about it just as quickly if they're her friends. She can be something of an adrenaline junkie when it comes to making things go fast, though she never really puts herself or anyone else in danger. She also has a problem with authority about a mile wide - credit it to her upbringing.
History: April was born on a poor outer planet called Natawalk. Her parents were both Browncoats who died in the rebellion, so for as long as she can really remember she was raised by her uncle. As she grew up, she quickly discovered a talent for piloting, driving, and otherwise operating vehicles, as well as an ability to make them go. She left her home at sixteen years old to make her own way in the star system, immediately beginning a crime spree of hijackings, joy-rides, and Robin-Hood style redistribution of wealth. |
5,713 | 157 | 13 | 1,032 | 421 | Hannah had been returning to the cargo hold when she heard her name in the buzz of conversation—she paused at the doors to the catwalk that led down into the hold, head cocked to one side as she listened further. A new passenger? She brightened, careening down the ramp past the Captain and finally skidding to a stop with her hands clasped behind her back. April had emerged from the bowels of the engines, apparently, and was talking with the Companion who had been onboard for a while now. Hannah always felt like a bumbling elephant around the elegant woman—she wished she had that kind of grace and charm. She gave a little wave to Preacher, too; she wasn't devout by any means, but she'd been raised on Christ and bourbon and she kept up both traditions.
"Hi!" she said brightly, holding out a hand to shake to the newcomer. "Hannah, that's me. I can show you your bunk and the mess and all that. You said you had ammo? What kinds? I'm always looking for more. Got any large calibers?" | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,714 | 157 | 14 | 1,641 | 929 | The captain shouted back to her crew once again before accepting Silas as a passenger, explaining where he'd be staying, and dismissing him in the same breath, before returning to the ship to avoid the in coming preacher.
"Wènhòu," called the Shepard, bowing as he spoke.
"Hello," Silas answered, nodding in a return.
"My name is Iean, I look after this flock. If there is any type of spiritual needs that have gone unattended then please allow me the honor to guide you to the enlightenment of your choosing," Iean said kindly.
"I think my spiritual needs are all seen to. Thanks though," the gunsmith replied, clapping the other man on the shoulder for a moment. Like most folk from Dyton, Silas was technically Roman Catholic. The brunette usually didn't make it to Mass unless it was a holy obligation day and he confessed even less than that. "I'm Si--"
"You flying with us?" Called a small red haired girl as she trotted down the main ramp. When she got to the bottom she reached out and shook Silas's hand. "My name's April Cooper, I'm the pilot. You're more'n welcome aboard as far as I'm concerned, but, uh..." the pilot paused her a leaned in closer, dropping his hand to prod at his chest with a tiny finger while grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "When I say hold onto something? Hold onto something."
"...Right," Silas said, pulling his hand back from the red head. 'Well, that was ominous,' he thought as he watched the pilot prance off before he had a chance to tell her his name. 'She's the pilot? She doesn't look like she's even old enough to have her license.'
"Sorry father. Like I was saying earlier, I'm Silas," the gunsmith continued, glancing back over to where Iean was standing, before catching sight of another person barreling down the ramp. Silas was sure he was going to have to catch her to stop the newcomer from face planting, but she stopped short, holding her hands behind her back.
"Hannah, that's me. I can show you your bunk and the mess and all that. You said you had ammo? What kinds? I'm always looking for more. Got any large calibers?" She asked excitedly, extending a tan hand in offer of a handshake.
"Silas," he told her, gripping her hand in his own and chuckling at how excited she got about the prospect of new ammo. He instantly liked her. "I've got almost anything you could need for a traditional gun and the biggest thing I have are my 50 caliber sniper rifle slugs. I don't have anything for laser guns or rocket launchers," Silas said the last bit with a grimace, forcing himself not to glance in the direction of the goat farmer. "I'd appreciate you showing me what's what, but can you tell me where to stow my merch first? It'd make me a might jumpy to leave them outside." | Name: Silas Fairbanks
Age: 29
Position: Gun Smith
Skills: Gun smiting and repair, Crack shot, Gun combat (Specialty in Sniper Rifle), Blending in, Haggling, Basic knowledge of explosives, Decent accountant, Excellent cook.
Crimes Against The Alliance: Illegal distribution, Tax evasion.
Additional Information: Silas is proficient with most firearms but quite awful at hand to hand combat. Being raised on Dyton (The same moon as Badger), he has a slight Irish accent.
Weapons: Bolt action sniper rifle and a basic handgun his father made. Silas has other guns of course, but they’re for selling and not personal use.
Possessions: Two crates of weapon merchandise (stored in the hull of the ship), gun smithing tools, and a small collection of seasonings.
Personality: Silas is a confident, soft spoken man who mostly keeps to himself. Don't let his quiet demeanor fool you though, he's a thrill seeker at heart and loves anything that gets his adrenaline up. Silas is also brave and stays calm in the face of danger, often not having to think twice about walking into dangerous situations. This has gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.
History: Born and raised on Dyton, Silas's parents where local weapons merchants, with his father creating the firearms and his mother running the business. Young Silas would rush home from school everyday to help his father at the workbench and helped his mother balance the books at night. They weren't wealthy, but they weren't poor either and Silas was very happy.
When he finished school Silas continued to help his parents, until the war broke out, when his primary job became smuggling weapons and ammunition to the Independents behind enemy lines. When the war ended, Silas decided to strike out on his own. He went to a gun smithing school for a few years to hone his craft before making his own weapons and selling them under the table on different border planets. |
5,715 | 157 | 15 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain stopped in her tracks, the cigarette nearly done she held tightly between her lips as Chang’e caught her attention. She inquired to when they were departing and Captain shrugged before she set the box down she had picked up to move into the cargo bay. “I have no gorram clue. I am waiting on Cryek to get this boat in the air. What? Some man on this dustball want some fun time with you?” she asked; taking the last pull from the smoke and tossing it to the ground and stomping it out with her boot before turning her head to the side and blowing the smoke away from her through clenched teeth. Seeing April come over she groaned slightly. “Yeah, you take her and keep the com open, if we get ready to leave high tail both your narrow behinds back here post haste. And bring me back something to eat,” Captain said quickly before hefting the crate back up and tucking it under one arm and turning to walk off.
“Hannah, get the boy settled in and stow the explosives. I don’t want another whoops boom in the cargo bay!” she shouted as she walked off towards the cargo bay to stow the crate of food rations she had acquired earlier in the day. Once that was done she moved quickly through the ship to the engine room and stopped at the door, leaning against the frame as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“When the hell you gonna have my ship ready Cyrek?” she asked as she took another cigarette out and lit it. “I want to break atmo by dusk. Oh and we have a new passenger, do don’t throw any wrenches until we are in outer amto okay? Don’t want the little bloke running before I get some type of payment,” she said taking a pull from the cigarette and smirking, holding it out to him. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,716 | 157 | 16 | 2,677 | 6,563 | Benson sat outside on the ramp, ignoring pretty much everyone, while 'petting' Garry. He ignored everyone, ignored everything, ignored the stares of the goat farmer, ignored his goat which was also staring at him, and most importantly, ignored the urge to go introduce himself to the new person. It wouldn't be proper, after all- someone had to be different. The rest were all jumping over themselves to meet the new face- except the Grump, who was probably beating his head against the engine right now.
So eventually he finished rewriting part of the Heart of Gold's processing unit so that he could have a backdoor and exclusive access at the input of a password, and shut off the admin desk. Pocketing it, he took Garry up in one of his hands and then rubbed his thumb from his other hand across the shiny domed plate that made up the top of the small machine's central processing center. He wiped off the rubber-coated feet of the spider-like device, and then held it up in front of him, staring right into the bot's "eyes." Small plates attached to the front of Garry shifted and moved, some moving closer to each other, some farther. Garry had been programmed with a rudimentary artificial intelligence- one that manipulated the plates in accordance to pre-programmed 'emotions.' When they were tight against each other, it was because the situation was dire, he was running out of battery, or all odds suggested that he would fail. When spread as far apart as possible, he was relatively 'happy'- and the other emotions ranged between that. Right now, the plates were all stretched out from each other, expressing relative enjoyment and happiness.
Then he whistled, and Garry jumped off his shoulder and scurried off. Heaving a heavy sigh, he rolled himself to his feet, and walked back into the suffocating interior.
He passed people with only the simplest of his courtesy- to the 'Shepherd,' or whatever he called himself, he just said his usual, repeated many-a-times response to his attire, "Your clothing is ridiculous and outdated." To the Companion, he only said, "Garry likes your rabbit." To the captain, he reported, "Ship up to date and electronically sound." To the gunsmith, he said, "Welcome aboard. Don't go in my room." To the gunner, his face temporarily brightened- slightly- and said, "I bet I could break your safe."
Then he was walking past them all and was in his room, nice and quiet.
He dropped himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling more apathetic than ever. Then he mentally waved it away, apathetic about his apathy, and started fiddling with the electronics in Garry's advanced little body. | Name: Benson Bartholomew Higgins - Aliases: "Benny," "Ben," "Higgs," "BENSON BARTHOLOMEW HIGGINS!"
Age: 24
Position: Security? Cybersecurity? Neural Networking? Electronic Warfare man.
Appearance/Clothing:
- 1 tac-gray baseball cap made of kevlar with a spun titanium core, with holographic display and headset included
- 1 red No Piston Inside long-sleeve tshirt
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility jacket (plus a backup), includes a battery pack and a universal charger for drones (he has a drone)
- 1 chort-leather set of utility cargo pants (tan-colored pants shown)
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility cargo pants (gray colored pants shown)
- 1 worn Shia LaBeouf Just-Do-It brand tennis shoes (plus backup)
Skills:
Hacking,
shooting,
running,
more running,
running on things he shouldn't run on (parkour),
rudimentary skill at driving anything with wheels or gravitronics (anti-grav stuff),
knows lockpicking and welding pretty well (sometimes you have to pick an actual lock, other times you gotta just cut through it),
Knows how to make a mean peach-cranberry cobbler.
Crimes Against The Alliance: He once hacked into a backdoor of an AI on one of the big cruisers, and got it to think that the entire crew were enemies. Another time, he hacked into some rich guy's (he had like this laser pistol or somethin, someone tried to steal it and everyone left one of the displays unattended) bank account and took nearly all his money, and then redistributed it to the Gay Power Association of the System (GPAS), and a whole bunch of other smaller-scale hacking stunts, like reprogramming an ad AI to display random videos of The-Earth-That-Was, such as a recovered "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" video, which gave the Shia LaBeouf Clothing Manufacturer a jumpstart.
Additional Information:
- Paranoid about certain things
- Obsessive about other things
- Can get very, very deep in thought sometimes
- Absolutely horrid at making metaphors or similes
Weapons:
- Fists
- Feet
- Elbows
- Knee
- M34 Combat Sidearm
- SAT-K23 Combat Knife
- Charming personality
Possessions:
A small drone he affectionately calls "Garry"
Some ammunition for his handgun
Various computers, cords, and devices
A very worn but cared-for lockpicking kit
A bunch of electrical replacement parts
A blanket he occasionally wears over everything else, that was white with blue borders, quilt-style
Personality:
To be roleplayed? He's unique. Really.
History:
Ask him about it! |
5,717 | 157 | 17 | 1,032 | 421 | Fifty cal, Hannah said dreamily. Lord above, she loved fifty calibers. Not only did they mean big guns, and big guns were her one true love, but they also made excellent hand-to-hand weapons in the right situation. She herself was too small to do much damage with a punch, but get any kind of force behind a .50 Browning bullet and it was gonna go through flesh.
She shook herself, tossing sandy hair out of her eyes as she smiled at the new passenger and pumped his hand enthusiastically. "Silas! I'll remember that. And I can take care of the rocket launchers and the lasers, don't you worry about that. Y'know, the other day I managed to get my hands on—"
"Hannah, get the boy settled in and stow the explosives. I don’t want another 'whoops boom' in the cargo bay!”
Hannah cut herself off, flushing red and wincing as she dropped his hand. "That only happened once," she mumbled, scuffing her toe on the floor. "...maybe twice," she amended, then shook her head again, calling over her shoulder, "Aye-aye, Cap'n!" She turned, beckoning Silas forward as she headed towards the grav lockers—specifically installed to keep ordinance safe during flight.
"You can put your gear in here," she said, inputting the passcode on one of the lockers and swinging the door open. It was the emptiest one they had, and even then, there were a few suspicious-looking boxes with 'Keep Out Please :)' written in Hannah's handwriting. She looked back to Silas, smiling at him. "Here, I'll help you with some of the boxes before we start the grand tour."
Benny waltzed by, saying something about her safe, and as usual, Hannah gave him her usual bright smile and wave. He never reciprocated, as far as she could tell, but she'd like to think it made him a little happier on the inside. Deep, deep inside. | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,718 | 157 | 18 | 2,649 | 479 | Cyrek's rage was coursing through his veins, the only things usually good enough to put him in a better mood were weight lifting and drinking. He was furious with the pilot and could never find himself to respect her, as she kept coming in and trying to help out. He had a system, and his idea was that if people just left him to his work, he would be able to finish in record time. Unfortunately, he had an annoying teenager for a pilot.
Hearing the captain finally ordering her out, he shouted in response to April, "YEAH, great things, like, shove your head up it, or make like a tree and fuck off?!" His anger was strong, as he cooled himself, pulling up from under the engine and setting himself at his work area. He popped open a cooler filled with beers, before chugging one in a few seconds and then, tossing the can at the door. "If I paint a fuckin' X on my door, will you stay out?" He grumbled, tossing the empty beer can at the door. He took another beer with him, walking back over to his work area, crawling up under the engine and getting back to work.
The nice part about a firefly class ship was that it was simple to repair and soon he had the engines purring. Before he knew it, the captain of the ship said to him, loudly, him still under his engine. “When the hell you gonna have my ship ready Cyrek? I want to break atmo by dusk. Oh and we have a new passenger, do don’t throw any wrenches until we are in outer amto okay? Don’t want the little bloke running before I get some type of payment,”
He scrambled out from under the engine and ran over to his cooler, popping it open, and taking a beer from it, "You're IN LUCK, baby, darling, baby! She's purring like a kitten!" He announced proudly, walking towards her. It was a small amount of work, hence his reason behind shooing anyone out. Most of the work he did better on his own, and people would just end up staring at him while he did it all.
He graciously took the cigarette from her, offering her the can of beer as a greeting. "Thank you much!" He said, taking a drag from the cigarette. | Name: Cyrek Krusek
Age: 30
Position: Ship's Mechanic
Appearance/Clothing:
Stands at 5'8". His usual attire is everything pictured along with a leather jacket that protects him from sparks while working on the ship. He also has a much less burned leather jacket, which is more of his 'special occasion' jacket.
Skills: Welding, engine work. He wouldn't be able to fly a ship, except maybe to save his life(like one of the lifecrafts). He can shoot well enough to kill and fight. He's strong enough to go punch for punch with the best, but he's not an expert in any fighting style other than street brawling. Strangely, he possesses the talent to work on the ship's engines while drunk. He can also shoot and fight while drunk fairly well. He likes to lift weights when not working on the engines. Smoking, if that can be called a skill.
Crimes Against the Alliance: Taking other people's vehicles and ships(vehicle theft). Aiding and abiding offenders of the law(in other words, his business was for criminals and he did a lot of work for smugglers).
Weapons:
12 gauge. He uses oo buckshot with it.
Chambered in 30-30 winchester.
His pride and joy.
Possessions: Welding goggles, all sorts of tools which he keeps in a tool box and cabinets, all for repairing the ship and any appliances.
Personality: He's very touchy about the engines. He doesn't like it when someone else tries to conduct work on them other than himself, unless he deems them worthy. He has great pride in his work as a mechanic and considers himself a welding artist. He's still a very charismatic man, generally being happy as long as his engines are purring and the ship is still flying. He loves to drink himself into the ground after a hard days work. He can be pretty ornery when everyone is tugging him every which way to repair something.
History: Cyrek was raised by his mother and her siblings. His uncle was a great influence in his life, teaching him all he knew about mechanics. He became mostly fascinated with welding, as there was a lot of welding to do in the scrapyards that his family owned and worked in. He took up repairing the body of vehicles and aircraft as it involved the most welding, but he made their engines purr.
The scrapyards wasn't all that legal, in reality. They stole vehicles and crafts of varying types, and tore them apart and started selling them for the parts. That was how the business always worked. The problem with illegal activities like this was they get the attention of either the law or other gangs. In this case, it was the other gangs. They ended up stealing the wrong crafts and got into a turf war with a drug running gang.
His long time girlfriend, who was a stripper(not exactly the best choice in women), ended up leaving him when the turf war started. She started a relationship with the son of the boss of the drug running gang.
This resulted in bloodshed on both sides, Cyrek losing his family to the scrapyard being burned and blown up. Cyrek ended up killing the boss, the boss's son, his ex-girlfriend, and burned everything they worked for to the ground. In the end, there were no winners in the turf war. All of this hell was soon interrupted by the Alliance coming in and breaking up their personal war.
Cyrek had to make a quick escape from his old path, leaving the Alliance to deal with the fallout and all of the rival gang that was left. Cyrek ended up selling himself off to a ship known as the Heart of Gold. |
5,719 | 157 | 19 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain took the drink and nodded slightly as he took the cigarette from her fingers. Cyrek was a bit different, a little rough around the edges but then again so was she. They seemed to be on the same page when it came to the ship and as long as he kept her boat in the air she dealt with his blowing up on the rest of the crew. He knew the ship and had pulled her out of more than one tight spot when things decided to stop working.
"Good, now we can get off this world soon as the computers where ready to go."
As if on cue Benson reported in that all way aces and they were good to go. Taking a long drink she finished the can off before tossing it into the trash and hit the button on the com.
"Alright children, all day trips cancelled. Ship is ready to go, load up, secure the cargo and let's get of this gorram planet. April to the bridge, get this bird in the air, we have a shipment to deliver," Captain commanded through the com before releasing her finger from the com. Turning she looked at Cyrek.
"No red X's on you door. Hannah might take it as a place to test out her explosives," Captain said quickly. "Once we break atmo, I need a spotter, see you in the main hanger later," she said before turning on her heels and making her way towards the bridge. It was time to move out and be damned on waiting on anyone to do anything else. They could get ready to go or exit the boat. They had about ten minutes to make up their minds before take off. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,720 | 157 | 20 | 1,499 | 991 | As the ship was powering up to break atmo Iean gave a small prayer in Chinese to the grave thrusters. He sat on the stairs and held on to the rail calmly. He watched to ensure the bay door closed and the seal light came on. Iean went from the loading deck to the kitchen. Grabbing a cup of water he walked out to his room to the side of medical second level. closing the door behind him he took a few steps to water the Bonsai tree on the desk. he sat the cup down and took out a book to read. Things looked to be interesting with the new group. He would need new verses to inspire courage in the others.
As Iean read he tried not to focus on the vibrations of the hull or the fight between natural gravity and the artificial gravity. Space travel was better to the shepherd the thought of natural gravity and his Tai chi training taught Iean how forces could tear something apart. The academy training reaffirmed this with numbers. Most hull stress was created during the exit of a planets take off. Fireflies weren't exactly cutting edge of tech in the sky. They were easy to repair even if the mechanic was only half awake. It was the main reason they sold so well. Iean would check on the rest during chow. | Name: Iean McKennenith
Age: 28
Position: 'Shepperd'
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Close quarter combat. Ti chi, melee weapons, kung-fu mantis style, tactics, land navigation, communications encryption, Military code recognition, electronic warfare, electronic security bypass procedures
Crimes Against The Alliance: Brown coat. Rank of first lieutenant
Additional Information: Brown coat. Fought in the battle of Rygil 7. Two Metals of valor. Purple heart. Fake right leg at the knee.
Weapons: None
Possessions:Books on earth that was. Multiple religious text.
Personality: Mad prophet "What could it be? Were all doomed! Who's flying this thing? Oh, right. That's just the intercom light."
History: Gentlemen graduate at (West point equivalent) with honors. His parents were proud and members of the elect officials. As the war broke out he was given orders to join a unit with the alliance. He had some disagreement on that point. Believing The rights of the individual out weighed the needs of the state. Instead of joining the alliance Iean took on a brown coat. He fought hard and was know to his men as the solider. Regardless of rank Iean made it a point to be on terms with his men. He never left one on the battle field and weighed the risk to his men over the mission. The crushing defeat at Serenity valley forced command to send a wave to lay down arms. He rallied those who were willing and saved those who were pinned down during the surrender. The over use of force by the alliance made him a brown coat for life. As the smoke cleared Iean was being fitted with a prosthetic and awarded his purple heart. Now fresh from the Abby he aims to spread the word to those that need it. |
5,721 | 157 | 21 | 1,171 | 41 | The woman pursed her lips, silently praying to Buddha or Got that these unscheduled stops wouldn't become a habit. "Well, no mei mei. I was actually hoping to do some shopping. Maybe buy a hat. Just thought you might like to come with." She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the young girl's wrist. "But now you have to go race into the black. Just try not to fly like you stole this ship every launch, hey? I'll see you at dinner." With those words the Companion let go and smiled at Hannah getting along with the newcomer. She watched them scurry off and was only briefly concerned that their bond was building almost exclusively over their fondness for stuff that blows up.
The hacker stopped for the briefest of courtesies that Chang'e was momentarily shocked. He's usually a deaf mute around her. "And Richard is fond of you, Benson. Although Garry frightens him I think." He left without answering. It was progress for the quiet man. She watched the hangar bay doors close with a wistful gaze and wondered at what she was walking away from here. She then turned on her heel and walked through the hangar, up onto the ladder, and into the kitchen. She caught the preacher in passing and offered a polite nod.
She fished a tin kettle out of a neatly stacked arrangement of plates and began to go through the motions of boiling tea leaves and water to make the nectar that makes life worth living. | Name: Chang'e
Age: 26
Position: Companion
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Language (Common, Chinese, German), Lore (Societies, History) Deception (Manipulation), Art (Educated in most aspects, not especially good at all of them. Special mention to her talents in singing, bass, and accordions), Flyer, Astrogation, Carouse (perfectly at home in high society or a back alley bar), Keen Insight (people = magazines to be browsed), Athletics (Yoga, strength training, easily gets caught up in health fads that get waved to her), Masseuse, Archery, Discipline, Liaison, Diplomat.
Crimes Against The Alliance: First Degree Murder (Acquitted)
Additional Information: Keeps a bunny named Richard in her shuttle.
Weapons: She keeps a few ornamental weapons; a gentleman's sword given to her as a gift, a golden titanium super-imposed laser pistol never fired, and her own bow from her Academy training. The bow is the only weapon she's ever practiced.
Possessions: Her shuttle and everything in it
Personality: Truth is singular and the best the Verse can offer are varied half truths that contradict and blend and confuse. As a Companion and tourist of various societies she takes the truth and lies with a small smile, sigh, and sip of tea.
She has that undefinable allure that welcomes others to rest and drink in for a moment's respite. An allure she works very hard to look effortless. Yet around the Firefly crew she has made a point to act coy and blush at the most innocent of questions. This was another of the 'Verse's many half-truths that didn't quite define a woman who seemed adamant to remain ephemeral in her interactions with the crew.
History: Tears, Sweat, Blood, and Tea. Rented out Heart of Gold's shuttle a month ago and has spent most of that month having it renovated to suit her needs. |
5,722 | 157 | 22 | 2,489 | 654 | April chuckled and bowed to the companion with mock formality. "Alright, Daije, I'll take her out gentle for you. See you around." With that, she scrambled off down the ship, hurrying to her chair in the cockpit. She reached the bridge quickly, taking care to sidestep the piles of junk and knick-knacks she had left scattered across her space, before leaping into the seat and buckling herself in.
Throwing a comm headset around her ears, April spoke quickly while beginning the launch sequence, eager to be flying again. Truth be told, she felt more comfortable piloting or driving something than she did on her own two feet - too long on the ground and she started to feel restless. Her uncle'd always said the girl should have had wheels instead of legs - that didn't sound so bad to her.
"Alright everyone, this is your pilot speaking. It's a beautiful day here in Bumfucknowhere, shame we have to be departing so soon. Sit back, enjoy the ride, and let April take you places."
She moved a joystick and felt the engines respond, closing her eyes as the ship roared to life. "Ohhhhhhhhh yeah. Cyrek, you're a grease monkey, but you're a damn good one. Initiating take-off, stand by to break atmo."
It was a gentle takeoff... as takeoffs by April Cooper went. The ship moved horizontally at first, picking up speed as it did so... until April yanked back on the stick and the ship went almost vertical, hurtling up towards the atmosphere. "Wooooooo! Heart of Gold, on the road again!" | Name: April Cooper
Age: 19
Position: Pilot
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Pilot, Navigation, Mechanic, Flyer, Drive, Astrogation, Streetwise, Zero-G, Carouse, Gun Combat (Pistol)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Larceny, Hijacking, Theft of Motorized Vehicles, Theft of Spacecraft, Contempt of Court
Additional Information: Never an actual member, but significant Browncoat leanings.
Weapons: One Enfield Revolver, and... that's it.
Possessions: Several piles of junk she keeps in her bunk/the cockpit, containing souveniers, knick-knacks, mementos and nothing of any real value.
Personality: April is compassionate, firey, and cheerful. She's an incorrigible optimist and cares a great deal for the people close to her, though this doesn't detract from her tendency to be snarky and/or foul-mouthed to them. She has a bit of a temper and is very quick to argue with people she believes to be in the wrong, though she'll generally forget about it just as quickly if they're her friends. She can be something of an adrenaline junkie when it comes to making things go fast, though she never really puts herself or anyone else in danger. She also has a problem with authority about a mile wide - credit it to her upbringing.
History: April was born on a poor outer planet called Natawalk. Her parents were both Browncoats who died in the rebellion, so for as long as she can really remember she was raised by her uncle. As she grew up, she quickly discovered a talent for piloting, driving, and otherwise operating vehicles, as well as an ability to make them go. She left her home at sixteen years old to make her own way in the star system, immediately beginning a crime spree of hijackings, joy-rides, and Robin-Hood style redistribution of wealth. |
5,723 | 157 | 23 | 2,677 | 6,563 | Benson was sitting on his bed, completely unsecured, with his admin desk resting against his legs and his fingers dancing across the screen. The diagnostics check that was infinitely running during power-up and take-off had a slight bug in it, and he had to surf the code and fix the problem.
Garry was occupying himself- itself, actually, but Benson charitably assigned it a gender for the sake of allusion- by trying to hack into his admin desk with its limited capacity. Each time the small somewhat aware artificial intelligence came close to breaking through the admin desk's firewalls, a small light blinked on the desk- and Benson quickly sent a small virus to Benson, giving the advanced firewalls time to repair themselves and shore themselves back up, while Garry suddenly acted like a dog for a minute as the AI counterhacked the virus he sent.
It was the only thing that brought a small smile to Benson's face, not since he'd first joined the crew months ago.
Then the ship abruptly started rising, and he shifted his attention back to the admin desk, wondering why April didn't do her usual address-the-crew. And, of course, his diagnostics had shut down several non-critical systems, such as the intercom.
Then he pitched off the bed and smacked into the floor, as the ship suddenly jerked about, destabilizing Benson's careful and precarious position on the edge of his bed- right in the middle of the room, too, since he didn't like being too close to walls.
He sat up, rubbed his head, and then decided that he needed to do something. His mother always told him to go out and do something, after all. As if he ever actually listened to her. Several moments of careful contemplation later, Benny decided it wouldn't hurt, sent a counter-virus to eliminate his surprisingly resilient dog program that was affecting Garry, gave the short follow me whistle- before exiting his room, Garry scurrying placidly behind him.
He passed anyone in the corridor with not a word, just a glance at their eyes, a glance at their attire, before he continued on- the equal of another's enthusiastic "Hello!" He passed by in his usual quiet, stoic self, making his way to the bridge. Once he walked through the door, he stepped carefully, casually over all April's junk, hardly glancing at it- he had long since memorized the placement of it all, and April had long since stopped really doing anything with the junk blocking the doorway, and made for the chair on the opposite side of the cockpit, sitting down, plugging his admin desk into the console, and then just staring out into the void, as April tried her best to tear apart the ship fly in a straight line to find and use the best escape trajectory possible.
He sat in his chair and brought his feet up to rest on the edge of the seat, admin desk again on his knees and legs. But he didn't work on the ship's systems- his eyes seemed to reflect that he was watching much more than just the empty black, that he was seeing things that no one else could. Of course, an active imagination brought that- he was seeing nothing more than memories and different, alternate ideas on how things could have gone, from his death to a flourishing life planetside, rather than in the sky.
Then he turned his eyes on the young April, and asked, "What do you see, out there?" | Name: Benson Bartholomew Higgins - Aliases: "Benny," "Ben," "Higgs," "BENSON BARTHOLOMEW HIGGINS!"
Age: 24
Position: Security? Cybersecurity? Neural Networking? Electronic Warfare man.
Appearance/Clothing:
- 1 tac-gray baseball cap made of kevlar with a spun titanium core, with holographic display and headset included
- 1 red No Piston Inside long-sleeve tshirt
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility jacket (plus a backup), includes a battery pack and a universal charger for drones (he has a drone)
- 1 chort-leather set of utility cargo pants (tan-colored pants shown)
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility cargo pants (gray colored pants shown)
- 1 worn Shia LaBeouf Just-Do-It brand tennis shoes (plus backup)
Skills:
Hacking,
shooting,
running,
more running,
running on things he shouldn't run on (parkour),
rudimentary skill at driving anything with wheels or gravitronics (anti-grav stuff),
knows lockpicking and welding pretty well (sometimes you have to pick an actual lock, other times you gotta just cut through it),
Knows how to make a mean peach-cranberry cobbler.
Crimes Against The Alliance: He once hacked into a backdoor of an AI on one of the big cruisers, and got it to think that the entire crew were enemies. Another time, he hacked into some rich guy's (he had like this laser pistol or somethin, someone tried to steal it and everyone left one of the displays unattended) bank account and took nearly all his money, and then redistributed it to the Gay Power Association of the System (GPAS), and a whole bunch of other smaller-scale hacking stunts, like reprogramming an ad AI to display random videos of The-Earth-That-Was, such as a recovered "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" video, which gave the Shia LaBeouf Clothing Manufacturer a jumpstart.
Additional Information:
- Paranoid about certain things
- Obsessive about other things
- Can get very, very deep in thought sometimes
- Absolutely horrid at making metaphors or similes
Weapons:
- Fists
- Feet
- Elbows
- Knee
- M34 Combat Sidearm
- SAT-K23 Combat Knife
- Charming personality
Possessions:
A small drone he affectionately calls "Garry"
Some ammunition for his handgun
Various computers, cords, and devices
A very worn but cared-for lockpicking kit
A bunch of electrical replacement parts
A blanket he occasionally wears over everything else, that was white with blue borders, quilt-style
Personality:
To be roleplayed? He's unique. Really.
History:
Ask him about it! |
5,724 | 157 | 24 | 1,032 | 421 | Hannah helped Silas get his things into the grav locker, inputting the lock code just as the cargo hatch began to close. She grinned—she loved takeoff. Up in the black, nothing ever really felt fast like it did when they were breaking the atmosphere.
"Here, Mister Fairbanks," she said as the cargo hold pressurized for liftoff. "Buckle up." She grabbed the 'buckles' in question from a tangle hanging on a hook at the side of the hold—in reality, just heavy-duty bungee cords. She held one out to him, and clipped another to the buckle of her own belt—not exactly safe, or all that secure, but it would stop her from getting thrown across the room, at least. Honestly, the only other ship Hannah had ever been on, she'd traveled in a crate—this seemed perfectly safe to her.
And a good thing too—April took off with her usual flair, and Hannah cheered as her feet flew out from underneath her. She was suspended for a moment by the bungee cord tethered to the back of her belt, and then the artificial gravity asserted itself and her feet came crashing back to the deck. Unhooking the cord with the air of long practice, she smoothly stuck out hands and feet from her position to one side of the hold to catch crates and barrels rolling. When she had to resort to ducking and catching a falling sheaf of documents on her back, she started whistling again, rolling them back to their proper places.
When she was done, Hannah dusted off her hands and turned back to Silas with a bright smile. "And that's liftoff!" she said cheerfully. "Care to take the tour? There's really not much to see, but it's good to know where you eat, yknow?" | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,725 | 157 | 25 | 54 | 1,340 | The crew had gotten things in order quickly, which pleased the crew boss; now they could get on their way. What didn't please her so much was that she heard no announcement over the com saying anything about a take off and she heard the ship power up to do just that. "What in bloody hell, she knows to announce a take off before she powers up!" the captain exclaimed.
Captain had taken a detour to the cargo bay to secure a few things at the last minute and was just making her way up the stairs to the main deck of the ship when the ship started to take off without warning. Grabbing the railing of the stairs quickly with one hand and locking a foot under a stair she leaned against the railing and braced herself. The initial thrust pulled her back slightly but she managed to hold her footing as they broke atmo. Taking another cigarette out she lit it and made her way angrily towards the cockpit.
Taking a long pull as the gravity force returned to normal, Captain continued on her way. Walking through the kitchen area she took long strides until she reached the bridge.
"Where in the hell was the Gorram announcement so people can brace themselves?" Captain snapped as she held the cigarette between her lips and placed a hand on the edge of the console as she entered in a few things. The course had be rerouted to take them a bit further out than the direct route that had been planned but she had good reason for the course change.
"Reaver attack," she said as she pointed to the center of their previous course. "Longer travel time is better than dead," she added as she pushed the smoke out of her lungs and between her teeth. "Still, stay alert. No auto pilot this trip." | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,726 | 157 | 26 | 2,489 | 654 | April still had a broad, idiot grin plastered on her face as the ship broke atmo, the rush and clattering of friction giving way to pure, smooth inertia. Not a bad take-off, if she dared say so herself.
The door opened behind her, and in came Benson the quiet and his little pet robot. He was in her part of the ship pretty often, doing... whatever it was he did (which was not to say she didn't respect his work - more, she didn't understand it). He was usually silent, though, which is why the girl actually jumped a little when he said something to her. "What do you see, out there?"
April peered out into the blackness. "I... dunno? Space? Darkness? Adventure? The true frontier? The thing I'm gonna still be staring at when yall get to go to sleep?" She glanced over to him. "Why? What do you see out there?"
The quiet conversation was cut off when the captain burst into the room, cursing up a storm about April's alleged lack of take-off announcement. "Your hearing must be going, Cap'n," the pilot shot back. "Announcement came through loud and clear." She began to fiddle with a panel off to the side of the cockpit. "Here, let me show you on the log aaaand fuck me sideways, intercom's down." The girl sighed. "Well, let's hope nobody broke nothing."
Though she didn't let on, a chill went down her spine at the captain's second order. Better late than dead. Better dead than Reavers. This was going to be a long flight. | Name: April Cooper
Age: 19
Position: Pilot
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Pilot, Navigation, Mechanic, Flyer, Drive, Astrogation, Streetwise, Zero-G, Carouse, Gun Combat (Pistol)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Larceny, Hijacking, Theft of Motorized Vehicles, Theft of Spacecraft, Contempt of Court
Additional Information: Never an actual member, but significant Browncoat leanings.
Weapons: One Enfield Revolver, and... that's it.
Possessions: Several piles of junk she keeps in her bunk/the cockpit, containing souveniers, knick-knacks, mementos and nothing of any real value.
Personality: April is compassionate, firey, and cheerful. She's an incorrigible optimist and cares a great deal for the people close to her, though this doesn't detract from her tendency to be snarky and/or foul-mouthed to them. She has a bit of a temper and is very quick to argue with people she believes to be in the wrong, though she'll generally forget about it just as quickly if they're her friends. She can be something of an adrenaline junkie when it comes to making things go fast, though she never really puts herself or anyone else in danger. She also has a problem with authority about a mile wide - credit it to her upbringing.
History: April was born on a poor outer planet called Natawalk. Her parents were both Browncoats who died in the rebellion, so for as long as she can really remember she was raised by her uncle. As she grew up, she quickly discovered a talent for piloting, driving, and otherwise operating vehicles, as well as an ability to make them go. She left her home at sixteen years old to make her own way in the star system, immediately beginning a crime spree of hijackings, joy-rides, and Robin-Hood style redistribution of wealth. |
5,727 | 157 | 27 | 2,677 | 6,563 | Benson stared at April the pilot, face dropping into a slightly more impassive and blank than it had been before- even though before, it had been only barely pleasant. But instead of turning away or responding, like another person would do, he just stared blankly at her for several moments, waiting for the captain and the pilot's communication to end. Then he shifted attention to the captain, and said, "The intercom was offline because of a faulty diagnostics program. I'm restarting it with another section of code to prevent it from shutting off other noncritical systems."
Then he paused for a moment, and said slightly more human-like- you know, with emotion- "Besides, captain, it'll keep you on your toes." He turned back to April and answered her right after, without any moment for interjection on either of the two other people's part. "When I look into the void, I see possibilities. Had I not joined this crew, I would be dead right now. Just a fact, really. Had I joined a different crew- one of the other two ships rather than this one- I'd either be dead or in a crew with elements that are far worse than ourselves. The void is my escape- my prison. It's everyone else's escape and prison, too, because we're all stuck here with physics and such to limit ourselves, with only minimal research going into truly ground-breaking things like quantum physics- which, mind you, could be the difference between weeks and months of time to get between interplanetary space, to days and hours. Simply observing a Kyoopy (Which, when he pronouces it, sounds very much like "Q" and then "P") particle can change its properties and state- and that particle can be in multiple places at once, so simply looking at something could tell someone on the opposite side of the continent, planet, or even across the system about whether or not that person is looking at it. And that's scratching the surface- one could create a device to use these entangled particles to create an instant communications device that can transmit across any amount of space without fail, because there is no signal, there is nothing to be interfered with- it's just-"
Then Benson, who in the middle of his rather passionate, rushed speech, froze, staring wide-eyed at his audience of two with a very rare show of expression- that is, passion, surprise, shock, and confusion. Then the moment passed, and his face closed down again, emotion wiping off of it as he sat back down and hugged his legs, looking anywhere but the captain and pilot, almost expecting to be punished or reprimanded, expecting something negative. Garry, in his programmed wisdom, climbed back onto his owner's knee, and called out the time. In a very obviously pre-programmed voice, Garry the mechanical spider screamed in a loud, manly voice, "IT IS SIX. FORTY. THREEEEE!" A short pause followed, about two or three seconds, before the recording said, "THAAAANK YOOU!"
Then the small spider's faceplates extended as far away from each other, pleased with itself. | Name: Benson Bartholomew Higgins - Aliases: "Benny," "Ben," "Higgs," "BENSON BARTHOLOMEW HIGGINS!"
Age: 24
Position: Security? Cybersecurity? Neural Networking? Electronic Warfare man.
Appearance/Clothing:
- 1 tac-gray baseball cap made of kevlar with a spun titanium core, with holographic display and headset included
- 1 red No Piston Inside long-sleeve tshirt
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility jacket (plus a backup), includes a battery pack and a universal charger for drones (he has a drone)
- 1 chort-leather set of utility cargo pants (tan-colored pants shown)
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility cargo pants (gray colored pants shown)
- 1 worn Shia LaBeouf Just-Do-It brand tennis shoes (plus backup)
Skills:
Hacking,
shooting,
running,
more running,
running on things he shouldn't run on (parkour),
rudimentary skill at driving anything with wheels or gravitronics (anti-grav stuff),
knows lockpicking and welding pretty well (sometimes you have to pick an actual lock, other times you gotta just cut through it),
Knows how to make a mean peach-cranberry cobbler.
Crimes Against The Alliance: He once hacked into a backdoor of an AI on one of the big cruisers, and got it to think that the entire crew were enemies. Another time, he hacked into some rich guy's (he had like this laser pistol or somethin, someone tried to steal it and everyone left one of the displays unattended) bank account and took nearly all his money, and then redistributed it to the Gay Power Association of the System (GPAS), and a whole bunch of other smaller-scale hacking stunts, like reprogramming an ad AI to display random videos of The-Earth-That-Was, such as a recovered "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" video, which gave the Shia LaBeouf Clothing Manufacturer a jumpstart.
Additional Information:
- Paranoid about certain things
- Obsessive about other things
- Can get very, very deep in thought sometimes
- Absolutely horrid at making metaphors or similes
Weapons:
- Fists
- Feet
- Elbows
- Knee
- M34 Combat Sidearm
- SAT-K23 Combat Knife
- Charming personality
Possessions:
A small drone he affectionately calls "Garry"
Some ammunition for his handgun
Various computers, cords, and devices
A very worn but cared-for lockpicking kit
A bunch of electrical replacement parts
A blanket he occasionally wears over everything else, that was white with blue borders, quilt-style
Personality:
To be roleplayed? He's unique. Really.
History:
Ask him about it! |
5,728 | 157 | 28 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain rolled her eyes slightly and shook her head, the ash of her cigarette falling to the grated floor as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You didn't think to check the gorram com before you took off?" she said as she narrowed her eyes. "I swear woman, if anything is damaged I'm going to set up a picnic for the Reavers with you as the main course," she hissed before her attention was drawn to Benny and his little speech. Tilting her head to the side she just stared at him blankly, not exactly sure what to say and waiting for him to finished.
"Riiiight... Well next time you want to take the com down you need to let people know before you do!" she snapped before turning on her heels and walking towards the exit of the bridge. Stopping at the door frame she looked back over towards them and shook her head before continuing on her way, muttering something about being too old for this shit. Heading through the ship she made her way back towards the engine room to make sure nothing happened down there during take off and to head off Cyrek if he decided to go rip April a new one for the take off without warning. Granted right then she wouldn't blame him for wanting to nor stop him but she would direct him towards Benny instead of April this time. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,729 | 157 | 29 | 1,032 | 421 | Hannah showed Silas the majority of the ship with the same cheerfulness she showed everything else, chattering constantly and throwing in anecdotes about the various places they visited. Finally, though, she showed him his quarters—not much of one, more like a narrow space between bulkheads with a bunk and a tiny locker.
"Showers are down the hall, cold water only if we even have that," she went on as she ushered Silas inside, ticking points off on her fingers. "You saw the mess hall, we kind of...make our own grub, I don't think we have a cook yet. If you want some of my leftovers , though, you're welcome to them. And...I guess stay out of the bridge unless the Cap wants you there? That sounds good, right?" After frowning at nothing for a moment, trying to remember if there was anything else important, she smiled and clapped the gunsmith on the shoulder. "And that's that. Comm me if you've got questions!"
With that, she left him to it, heading up to the bridge. Since Incident #1 and #2 in the cargo hold, she wasn't allowed down there when they were off-planet, so she usually spent her time in a quiet corner of the bridge—there wasn't nearly enough space in her quarters to fiddle around properly, and she only brought her stuff out into the mess hall when she was absolutely sure no one else was on board. Call her paranoid.
When Hannah actually reached the bridge, she paused in the hatch unnoticed, and she was glad she did. She'd never heard Benson say that many words at once, period—much less look so passionate about them. When his little speech was finished, she was staring at him wide-eyed, hands clasped under her chin with a look that could only be described as star-struck. He cut himself off, though, and she inched forward before dropping into an empty chair.
"I didn't know about QP particles," she said into the silence, folding her legs under her and propping her elbows on her knees. When Garry responded with the time, she smiled, leaning over to gently pet the little mechanical arachnid on one of his larger plates as the Captain stormed out. "I think space is the last great roll of the die," she said simply, propping her chin on a fist, because Benny had asked a question and she'd never been shy about speaking her mind. "You either get sucked out to die in vacuum, or visit strange new worlds and seek out new lifeforms. It really is all it's cracked up to be."
Hannah smiled, face instantly becoming less serious and more her usual open expression, and gave Garry one last pat before grinning at Benson. "At least we found the Heart of Gold, right? Also, if any of you find a small metal sphere with a blue light on it stuck in a console somewhere up here, please don't touch it." | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,730 | 157 | 30 | 2,489 | 654 | April muttered as the captain left, "It's Reaver threats, now? Someone needs some alone time."
The pilot listened to Benson's lengthy reply in silence, an expression of confusion steadily growing on her face. When he was finished she turned to address him. "The fuck is a qyoopy particle?" However, when she saw him curled up in a ball, his face a mask of horror, her tone softened. "Hey, easy chief. It's all good. Good to know you can actually talk, yeah? I'm glad you picked this ship too." She smiled and turned back to the controls, giggling slightly at the robotic announcement. "Heh. Thanks, little partner, I was sorta wonderin." Her expression grew flat again. "But seriously, tell me next time you fuck the ship over."
Hannah arrived then and plopped down in a seat, and April spared the girl a warm smile. She didn't really understand the vacant demolitionist, but she could appreciate her endless cheeriness and penchant for breaking things. At least someone appreciated the work she did flying the ship. April listened to the girl's response and nodded, brows furrowed.
She let out a great breath and spoke. "Gee. Chance, prison, potentials... I don't really think about things like that. But if I had to say... I reckon I'd say space is freedom. You can go anywhere, do anything you want, see anything you want. It's a... a chance for a new start, for all of us. A place we can go where nobody can tell us what to think or do or say. Where we can... live the way we was meant to. Free and easy, without big governments and judges and captains getting their dicks in our business, fuckin' things up for all of us." She paused. "Not makin' sense, am I?" | Name: April Cooper
Age: 19
Position: Pilot
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Pilot, Navigation, Mechanic, Flyer, Drive, Astrogation, Streetwise, Zero-G, Carouse, Gun Combat (Pistol)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Larceny, Hijacking, Theft of Motorized Vehicles, Theft of Spacecraft, Contempt of Court
Additional Information: Never an actual member, but significant Browncoat leanings.
Weapons: One Enfield Revolver, and... that's it.
Possessions: Several piles of junk she keeps in her bunk/the cockpit, containing souveniers, knick-knacks, mementos and nothing of any real value.
Personality: April is compassionate, firey, and cheerful. She's an incorrigible optimist and cares a great deal for the people close to her, though this doesn't detract from her tendency to be snarky and/or foul-mouthed to them. She has a bit of a temper and is very quick to argue with people she believes to be in the wrong, though she'll generally forget about it just as quickly if they're her friends. She can be something of an adrenaline junkie when it comes to making things go fast, though she never really puts herself or anyone else in danger. She also has a problem with authority about a mile wide - credit it to her upbringing.
History: April was born on a poor outer planet called Natawalk. Her parents were both Browncoats who died in the rebellion, so for as long as she can really remember she was raised by her uncle. As she grew up, she quickly discovered a talent for piloting, driving, and otherwise operating vehicles, as well as an ability to make them go. She left her home at sixteen years old to make her own way in the star system, immediately beginning a crime spree of hijackings, joy-rides, and Robin-Hood style redistribution of wealth. |
5,731 | 157 | 31 | 1,499 | 991 | Being in the black made Iean a little more introspective. He entered his room to find a book about Buddhism. He then went to the hold and sat on the gang plank facing the hold. Reading helped to pass the time during the long trips. The heart of gold was a good design. The ways that the walls in the hold where the center of the ships frame work made Iean believe that his thoughts would spread to the rest of the compartments like a heart pushes blood. The book was one of his favorites. He read the others too, but the simplicity of Buddhism was what helped Iean believe in the good of others.
After a good long while Iean closed the book. He used the teachings more to himself then others. It helped center him. To focus less on the quiet vibration of the engine pushing him further into the black. This was Iean's time. The time to watch the other people sharing the space and learn from them what he could about their personalities and styles. Iean would sit quietly and listen to the voices around him. Not just the crew but the engineer who built these ships. There was a story in each rivet and weld. The creativity of the pioneering spirit was written in this ship. He was never the type to push belief on others but when the situation warranted his attention then he would apply the lesson. Standing to stretch his legs he started to do some yoga. | Name: Iean McKennenith
Age: 28
Position: 'Shepperd'
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Close quarter combat. Ti chi, melee weapons, kung-fu mantis style, tactics, land navigation, communications encryption, Military code recognition, electronic warfare, electronic security bypass procedures
Crimes Against The Alliance: Brown coat. Rank of first lieutenant
Additional Information: Brown coat. Fought in the battle of Rygil 7. Two Metals of valor. Purple heart. Fake right leg at the knee.
Weapons: None
Possessions:Books on earth that was. Multiple religious text.
Personality: Mad prophet "What could it be? Were all doomed! Who's flying this thing? Oh, right. That's just the intercom light."
History: Gentlemen graduate at (West point equivalent) with honors. His parents were proud and members of the elect officials. As the war broke out he was given orders to join a unit with the alliance. He had some disagreement on that point. Believing The rights of the individual out weighed the needs of the state. Instead of joining the alliance Iean took on a brown coat. He fought hard and was know to his men as the solider. Regardless of rank Iean made it a point to be on terms with his men. He never left one on the battle field and weighed the risk to his men over the mission. The crushing defeat at Serenity valley forced command to send a wave to lay down arms. He rallied those who were willing and saved those who were pinned down during the surrender. The over use of force by the alliance made him a brown coat for life. As the smoke cleared Iean was being fitted with a prosthetic and awarded his purple heart. Now fresh from the Abby he aims to spread the word to those that need it. |
5,732 | 157 | 32 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain stopped in her tracks, a faint smell of burning wafting to her senses causing her heart beat to quicken and her breath to stop. Pale eyes froze as her pupils dialated.
"Gorram," she muttered as she sprang from her spot, boots falling heavy on the cat walk, echoing through the ship as she ran. Down the steps in a single leap before darting to the next cat walk. Then it a happened, a thunderous vibrated tore through the ship and Captain was flung from the cat walk, catching a railing and dangling twenty feet in the air above the cargo bay area. The alarm started blarring through the Heart of Gold.
Swinging precariously she pulled a foot up and pressed it to the side of the metal floor and pulled herself back up. Wiping the blood from her lip she ran towards the engine room, the main stabilizer on fire as th room filled with smoke.
"April!!! Land this Gorram ship now! Engine is on fire!" she screamed into the com before grabbing the fire extinguisher and trying to put the flames out. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,733 | 157 | 33 | 1,499 | 991 | The ship shook and he was bashed against the railing. "I just prayed over that engine before we left." He shook his head after being knocked around. Getting to his feet and watching the Captain swing back to safety Iean rushed up the stairs. When he smelled smoke from the environmental's he rushed to the emergency fire extinguisher. Running to the rear he tried to insure the fire wouldn't spread. Iean hoped no one was back there.
Pressing the comms he shouted. "Is anyone in the engine room? We got fire!" He was going to learn more of this ships emergency shut offs if he lived through this. As he waited he said a silent prayer in the hopes no one was back there. | Name: Iean McKennenith
Age: 28
Position: 'Shepperd'
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Close quarter combat. Ti chi, melee weapons, kung-fu mantis style, tactics, land navigation, communications encryption, Military code recognition, electronic warfare, electronic security bypass procedures
Crimes Against The Alliance: Brown coat. Rank of first lieutenant
Additional Information: Brown coat. Fought in the battle of Rygil 7. Two Metals of valor. Purple heart. Fake right leg at the knee.
Weapons: None
Possessions:Books on earth that was. Multiple religious text.
Personality: Mad prophet "What could it be? Were all doomed! Who's flying this thing? Oh, right. That's just the intercom light."
History: Gentlemen graduate at (West point equivalent) with honors. His parents were proud and members of the elect officials. As the war broke out he was given orders to join a unit with the alliance. He had some disagreement on that point. Believing The rights of the individual out weighed the needs of the state. Instead of joining the alliance Iean took on a brown coat. He fought hard and was know to his men as the solider. Regardless of rank Iean made it a point to be on terms with his men. He never left one on the battle field and weighed the risk to his men over the mission. The crushing defeat at Serenity valley forced command to send a wave to lay down arms. He rallied those who were willing and saved those who were pinned down during the surrender. The over use of force by the alliance made him a brown coat for life. As the smoke cleared Iean was being fitted with a prosthetic and awarded his purple heart. Now fresh from the Abby he aims to spread the word to those that need it. |
5,734 | 157 | 34 | 2,489 | 654 | Lying down on the dusty ground, a man in a suit. Other people would know very well who he was, one of the political figures of the Alliance. Heaving a heavy sigh, the man reached for his upper back, pulling off some skin. Peeling over his head, a rubbery mask with hair like follicles stuck in it and perfect features of the political figure came off. With the mask off, a man with unusual green hair was seen. It was the master of disguise, Rune. Still lying down, and taking in a deep breath, "Well, pissed off the residents here plenty with this guy" he thought aloud. "Now then, what to ..."
His attention turned to a flaming ball of fire in the sky. Squinting his eyes to get a better view, it seemed to be a ship, on fire. "Hm... maybe I could use this as a chance to leave." Rune said to himself, getting up. Heading back to a hotel he had rented out, he found his usual mask. The look of an older man, with black hair and a thinner face. His face does not become thinner upon wearing the mask, it was just that the features gave the illusion of a thin face. Adjusting, and massaging his facial muscles, he smiled, frowned and did various facial expressions, making sure the mask was moving evenly, and with precision. Everything was looking fine.
Instead of his usual suit, Rune decided to wear the spare mechanic clothes he had for another job.
Given that the ship he had seen looked like it was on fire and not just burning in atmo, it was probably the easiest way to sneak in, without being charged to board. Taking a book out, he quickly studied up on engines and ships. Hopefully it isn't anything that I can't handle he thought, grabbing some spare tools in a toolbox he had, heading out towards the approximate landing site of the ship. Hopefully they have a capable pilot that could actually land the gorram thing | Name: April Cooper
Age: 19
Position: Pilot
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Pilot, Navigation, Mechanic, Flyer, Drive, Astrogation, Streetwise, Zero-G, Carouse, Gun Combat (Pistol)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Larceny, Hijacking, Theft of Motorized Vehicles, Theft of Spacecraft, Contempt of Court
Additional Information: Never an actual member, but significant Browncoat leanings.
Weapons: One Enfield Revolver, and... that's it.
Possessions: Several piles of junk she keeps in her bunk/the cockpit, containing souveniers, knick-knacks, mementos and nothing of any real value.
Personality: April is compassionate, firey, and cheerful. She's an incorrigible optimist and cares a great deal for the people close to her, though this doesn't detract from her tendency to be snarky and/or foul-mouthed to them. She has a bit of a temper and is very quick to argue with people she believes to be in the wrong, though she'll generally forget about it just as quickly if they're her friends. She can be something of an adrenaline junkie when it comes to making things go fast, though she never really puts herself or anyone else in danger. She also has a problem with authority about a mile wide - credit it to her upbringing.
History: April was born on a poor outer planet called Natawalk. Her parents were both Browncoats who died in the rebellion, so for as long as she can really remember she was raised by her uncle. As she grew up, she quickly discovered a talent for piloting, driving, and otherwise operating vehicles, as well as an ability to make them go. She left her home at sixteen years old to make her own way in the star system, immediately beginning a crime spree of hijackings, joy-rides, and Robin-Hood style redistribution of wealth. |
5,735 | 157 | 35 | 1,032 | 421 | Hannah had been sitting quietly, but a curious look crossed her face and she raised her head, eyes narrowing as her nose wrinkled. She sniffed, turning her head towards the entrance to the 'pit and tilting her head to the side.
"Do y'all smell smoke, or...?"
Her question was cut off as the ship shuddered, the cockpit doused in red lights as alarms started to blare. Hannah gaped for a moment, then leaped to her feet, stumbling as the deck jerked under her feet again. Without a word to April or Benson, she bolted out of the bridge on a beeline for the cargo hold.
The engine was on fire, yes, that was bad. The engine fire reaching her crates full of explosives...yeah, that would be worse.
Unfortunately, when April's shouts to belt in came over the intercom, Hannah had just managed to reach the hold. Her eyes widened and she dived for the railing of the catwalks—just in time, too. Her feet left the ground as the Heart of Gold crashlanded, and she gave a rather undignified squeak as her arms wrapped around the railing. She hung on for dear life as the metal underneath her feet shook like the ship itself was coming apart. Hannah narrowly avoided being thrown to the hold itself, ten feet down, only by executing a twisting maneuver and throwing herself back onto the catwalk. Unfortunately, she could also feel the moment her ankle twisted under her and gave alarmingly.
"Scheisse—" she hissed, grabbing her foot out of reflex as the ship finally dragged to a halt. Biting down hard on her lip, she hauled herself to her feet to the nearest intercom, watching the (so far undamaged) door from the cargo hold to the engine room warily.
"What the heck just happened? Anybody?" she demanded, leaning against the wall and having to stretch up just to reach the speaker on the wall, other foot raised gingerly in the air. | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,736 | 157 | 36 | 2,677 | 6,563 | Benson just stared at the rest of the people in the bridge. Fire? That's... not good. Good thing it can't be caused by a program malfunction... actually, it can. Ben was slightly nervous at this thought, wondering if, perhaps, his programming was not as good as he thought it was, and a flaw somehow made the engine malfunction. But he didn't do anything that related to the engine's systems; he only set up firewalls and control programs to control what orders the engine receives... which could, in theory, also cause a malfunction. Anything could cause a malfunction.
Malfunctions was a horrible word. Benson wished it didn't exist.
So Benson the technician spent the first half of the free fall to the planet's surface in a sort of zoned-out state, deciding whether or not it was good or bad to have the word malfunction. The word malfunction does, after all, have a bit of a negative connotative meaning. But then again, if they didn't have the word malfunction, what if there was a word- that Benson didn't know- that was even worse than malfunction, and was used more often?
Then Benson realized, with growing terror, that the great flat thing that was once round in the view windows (which now filled the view windows) was very, very close, in relative. That is to say, it sunk in that they were falling, and that gravity was bringing them down, and something went wrong with the engines.
Speaking of which, why is the engine in the very back of the ship? The engines should be in the... engines, where the thrusters are, so that they can produce thrust. But what if it were the reactor, and the thrusters were those EM drives that were really prominent around the time that the Fireflies were still used? No, EM drives were silents; these engines were very clearly fuel-burners.
Then Garry jumped on Benson's face, the ship jerked, lurched, and everything went dark as Benson jerked forward, held tight only by the seat's harness, and hit a console in front of him. Garry went flying, hit the view windows, and his hard, domed back shattered, leaving Garry as a broken mess, his 'spine' severed. The little bot was completely dead, with its motherboard broken in half, a shard of the dome straight through it, lying on the floor at the very tip of the nose of the bridge. | Name: Benson Bartholomew Higgins - Aliases: "Benny," "Ben," "Higgs," "BENSON BARTHOLOMEW HIGGINS!"
Age: 24
Position: Security? Cybersecurity? Neural Networking? Electronic Warfare man.
Appearance/Clothing:
- 1 tac-gray baseball cap made of kevlar with a spun titanium core, with holographic display and headset included
- 1 red No Piston Inside long-sleeve tshirt
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility jacket (plus a backup), includes a battery pack and a universal charger for drones (he has a drone)
- 1 chort-leather set of utility cargo pants (tan-colored pants shown)
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility cargo pants (gray colored pants shown)
- 1 worn Shia LaBeouf Just-Do-It brand tennis shoes (plus backup)
Skills:
Hacking,
shooting,
running,
more running,
running on things he shouldn't run on (parkour),
rudimentary skill at driving anything with wheels or gravitronics (anti-grav stuff),
knows lockpicking and welding pretty well (sometimes you have to pick an actual lock, other times you gotta just cut through it),
Knows how to make a mean peach-cranberry cobbler.
Crimes Against The Alliance: He once hacked into a backdoor of an AI on one of the big cruisers, and got it to think that the entire crew were enemies. Another time, he hacked into some rich guy's (he had like this laser pistol or somethin, someone tried to steal it and everyone left one of the displays unattended) bank account and took nearly all his money, and then redistributed it to the Gay Power Association of the System (GPAS), and a whole bunch of other smaller-scale hacking stunts, like reprogramming an ad AI to display random videos of The-Earth-That-Was, such as a recovered "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" video, which gave the Shia LaBeouf Clothing Manufacturer a jumpstart.
Additional Information:
- Paranoid about certain things
- Obsessive about other things
- Can get very, very deep in thought sometimes
- Absolutely horrid at making metaphors or similes
Weapons:
- Fists
- Feet
- Elbows
- Knee
- M34 Combat Sidearm
- SAT-K23 Combat Knife
- Charming personality
Possessions:
A small drone he affectionately calls "Garry"
Some ammunition for his handgun
Various computers, cords, and devices
A very worn but cared-for lockpicking kit
A bunch of electrical replacement parts
A blanket he occasionally wears over everything else, that was white with blue borders, quilt-style
Personality:
To be roleplayed? He's unique. Really.
History:
Ask him about it! |
5,737 | 157 | 37 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain rushed to Ieans side, trying to douse the flames. “Tain Xiao De! Cyrek is supposed to be back here but I haven’t seen that grubby hide since before take off,” she yelled as the flames were doused.
“Jian Ta De Gul! I will gut that man if I find him! He’s supposed to make sure that this doesn’t happen!” Captain snarled as she tossed the extinguisher to the side; grabbing a bench as she braced herself. Hearing Aprils call go out over the com she cringed inwardly.
“Gorram, hold on preacher!” she yelled as they touched down, her body jutting forward but her grip holding true. She ended up spilling out on her back with her hand still clutched to the metal underside of the work table.
“April, shut down the engines and vent the ship! We need to clear this smoke out! Benson, run play back, find out what happened!” she yelled into the com as she stumbled over to it. “The engine caught on fire Hannah, don’t have a gorram clue as to why. Your explosives secured? Last thing we need is them to get hot right now, shove them into the cool storage for now!” she commanded before sinking down the wall and grasping her arm. A large gash went over her bicep as she tried to stop the bleeding.
“Preacher, you okay?” | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,738 | 157 | 38 | 54 | 1,340 | Blasted hell, I don't care who, someone get to the cockpit and vent this smoke before we loose all oxygen in this gorram ship! Captain yelled through the com. Stumbling she slowly made her way out of the engine room now that the fire was taken care of, grumbling to herself about killing her now to be former mechanic if she ever got her hands around his throat. Taking a long breath she made her way to the back cargo area and hit the release, the doors opening and a rush of fresh air pulling into the ship as the smoke started to vent out.
Leaning back against the railing she sunk down to the floor, holding her arm and applying pressure to it to try to get the bleeding to stop. "Yeah, we're alive," Captain yelled out into the sunlight as she sat on the floor. "Who the hell are you?" she asked to the voice she had heard with the banging as she opened the ship up. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,739 | 157 | 39 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Gideon was hauling heiney through the wide flat expanses, He had mannaged to track down a lead on one of his family members, Deborah was alive and wanted for murder! No one but him would ever be happy to hear that sort of thing but him and he was hooting as he hopped rocks on his mule. While most had something like an AtV for hauling things around, this bitch was his baby, she could reach 500 miles an hour, theoretically. Theoretical in he couldnt find a way to hold on going that fast and road rashing at a hundred was enough for him to rethink his plans, but the theory was sound and the pieces held up to the stress tests.
All the same, then the firefly came fire-balling down he made a change in course and opened her up to try and find any survivors or savage. If the ship survived but the crew didn't, then he had a chance of fixing it up to make it his own! If the crew survived, they would need repairs! Either way is a win for him. He slowed his approach as there was the front door open and two people talking.
"Nihao! Yall look like you need some help! I'll do what I can to sort you out for Five pounds of protein or five battery boxes, whichever you got more to spare."
Greed is easier to believe than good Samaritans so he hoped offering self interest might be a better way to ingratiate himself with whoever is in charge. Fireflies are not luxury pieces, hard working ship for hard workers, hard workers appreciate fair work for fair pay. If he could get in the ship, he could convince them to limp to Boros for real repairs at the Iskellian Shipyards, hell, not even the shipyard, just the junkpiles would be worth the tetnus shots to get hands on stuff in their cast-offs. | Name: Rune Weiβ-Schwarz
Age:
24
Position:
Master of Disguise
Appearance/Clothing:
Minus tattoos
Doesn't smoke
^Usually these clothes
Skills:
Master of disguise
Jack of all trades (Basic knowledge of everything with experience in many fields.)
Deception
Diplomat
Language skills (Can learn languages quickly, speaks mainly English, German, Chinese (Mandarin))
Recon
Stealth
Melee (Knife and fist)
Athletics
Gun combat (Pistol)
Investigate
Crimes Against The Alliance:
Impersonating many different figure heads (Boy was it a fun)
Stealing crucial information
Additional Information:
Gets his knowledge from reading books, but does not usually retain expert information for long periods of time
Occasionally will remember expert knowledge in some random field for long periods of time, such as Neurosurgery, usually useless in most situations
Has had jobs pretending to be different types of doctors, a mechanic, weapons engineer, pilot, heads of government, mercenary, and even a companion
Usually dresses up in a suit and disguised because he doesn't want people to identify him
Occasionally dresses up as a female to practice mannerisms, speech and tone (Also to make fun of other men)
Easily embarrassed when not disguised in some shape or form
Can mimic voices and body movements
Has fun pretending to be someone doing something that they would never usually do
Weapons:
Knife
Pistol
Hand-to-hand combat
Possessions:
Chemistry set for making dyes and perfumes, etc.
Sewing kit and material for making clothes for disguises
Make up, masks, fat suits, fake skins, etc.
A pendant with a photo
Personality:
When Rune is disguised, he is more confident and more outgoing, unless the 'character' he needs to play is otherwise. Since he is usually disguised anyway, he is 'normally', a little sophisticated, and kind. He is reliable and always remains calm. His speech displays maturity and wisdom. He upholds himself with dignity and in a manner that says he would speak of justice, although he rarely mentions anything to do with justice.
On the other hand, when he is not disguised, he is a meek and shy. Unable to speak up much, he usually keeps a distance from others. Not getting closer than needed to them. Unsociable and usually looking down, it would seem he was a completely different person. He does however find it fun to observe people.
Finally, in his occasional female disguise, he ... she? is enigmatic and flirtatious. Always having some sort of fun.
History:
The master of disguise, Rune, was abandoned when he was a child, left with a simple pendant, with a photo of someone he does not recognise, but keeps close. Abandoned on the street, a rich nobleman by the name Weiβ-Schwarz, appeared and took him in. There was a reason the nobleman took him in, it was because of the resemblance to his own son. His son was very arrogant and disrespectful. Weiβ-Schwarz took in Rune to have him be his son's body double and give himself a respectable image.
Rune had therefore trained in learning mannerisms and body language, speech mimicry of the boy he was to act as. Then act as a version of the boy that was respectful and honorable. In doing so, he was treated like he was the son. As time passed, the boy had practically taken over the son's role, and was even considered to be the one to become the heir. However, the real son was not pleased. Suddenly rumors were spread, the son was ruining the family image, committing larceny and many other crimes. Weiβ-Schwarz was considering to have his own son 'removed'.
That was when Rune decided he should leave, and let the family affairs clear up. Going out, he committed larceny in front of many people, before taking off a mask and wig and running off. The Weiβ-Schwarz family was cleared of the rumors. The real son was not as respectful and honorable, but he had started to take his right as heir more seriously. This lead to Rune being free from his disguise, and let him assume more disguises.
Many years followed, and he has been disguising, infiltrating and stealing information for various groups of people to make a living. He is even renown for his imitation of Alliance head figures who, on television, went naked and gave a speech about love and puppies. That was one job he had fun with. People did not realise what was going on until a image of his mask being taken off was found. He became known as a master of disguise and continued on many other jobs after that. |
5,740 | 157 | 40 | 1,032 | 421 | Hannah groaned as the Captain's barked order came over the comm, coughing up a lung as she pulled herself to her feet with the railing. Make that foot—she limped to the console and propped her hip against it, fingers flying to input the override that would allow the cargo bay to open even with the alarms blaring.
Captain Lee made it to the release, the hatch opened, and some of the haze lessened. The coughing didn't let up, but Hannah slumped against the railing in relief anyway. She let her knees buckle and she sat on the floor, legs swinging in the open air over the cargo bay and her arms folded on top of the bottom rail.
"Captain," she said hoarsely, "Honest to Betsy that wasn't me this time."
She was just about to try some weak joke to try and brighten the Captain's black mood when the stragglers from outside caught her attention. Her eyebrows rose, and she pulled herself to her feet again, painfully making her way down into the hold. She gave halfhearted waves to the newcomers, but figured that if anyone was going to let them on board, it should be the Captain—and she had crates of grenades to shove in a refrigerator. And a busted ankle to deal with. Christ. | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,741 | 157 | 41 | 1,499 | 991 | The firefly started to open, black smoke escaping from the hatch. Waving his hand in front of him, fanning the smoke, Rune heard the captain speak. The captain stated that they were alive and wandered who he was. "Name's Jeff. I'm a small time mechanic here. Saw your ship hurling down, wanted to see if you were hurt or not, see if maybe you needed some repairs." As Rune gave a random fake name, someone else came over to the crash site. A mechanic.
Oh damn it! I hope I don't get discovered so quickly. Rune thought to himself, looking over to them. Inside the ship, a hoarse voice called out to the captain. Betsy? Who is that? Looking up at the voice, he saw a young lady, couldn't be older than himself. Seeing her wave, he waved back. "Anyway, exactly what happened here? Do you have a mechanic, Captain? Because it's dangerous being in the black without one." Rune asked the Captain. "If you need some repairs done, I'd like to offer my services. In return, I'd like to travel along to one of the other planets, if you don't mind." Rune demonstrated a full set of tools, ready to be used for the job. | Name: Iean McKennenith
Age: 28
Position: 'Shepperd'
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Close quarter combat. Ti chi, melee weapons, kung-fu mantis style, tactics, land navigation, communications encryption, Military code recognition, electronic warfare, electronic security bypass procedures
Crimes Against The Alliance: Brown coat. Rank of first lieutenant
Additional Information: Brown coat. Fought in the battle of Rygil 7. Two Metals of valor. Purple heart. Fake right leg at the knee.
Weapons: None
Possessions:Books on earth that was. Multiple religious text.
Personality: Mad prophet "What could it be? Were all doomed! Who's flying this thing? Oh, right. That's just the intercom light."
History: Gentlemen graduate at (West point equivalent) with honors. His parents were proud and members of the elect officials. As the war broke out he was given orders to join a unit with the alliance. He had some disagreement on that point. Believing The rights of the individual out weighed the needs of the state. Instead of joining the alliance Iean took on a brown coat. He fought hard and was know to his men as the solider. Regardless of rank Iean made it a point to be on terms with his men. He never left one on the battle field and weighed the risk to his men over the mission. The crushing defeat at Serenity valley forced command to send a wave to lay down arms. He rallied those who were willing and saved those who were pinned down during the surrender. The over use of force by the alliance made him a brown coat for life. As the smoke cleared Iean was being fitted with a prosthetic and awarded his purple heart. Now fresh from the Abby he aims to spread the word to those that need it. |
5,742 | 157 | 42 | 54 | 1,340 | Captain groaned deeply as she pushed herself to her feet, pulling a bloodied hand away from the deep gash in her bicep and taking out a cigarette, lighting it quickly and taking a long draw off of it. Looking at the two that had come up to check out the crash.
"Yeah, we had one and if I find that gorram mechanic I will drop him in deep space before he can say Browncoat," she spat as she held the smoke between her teeth.
"All injuries report to the infirmary, if you can't have someone carry you," she yelled into the com before turning back to the two new comers and then over to Iean.
"Preacher, take these two to the problem and have them get to work," she said as she pushed the smoke from between her teeth. "One of you start working on repairs, the other bring me a damage assessment in the infirmary. I'll hire both of you if you can get this gorram ship off the ground in less than a week, if not I'll pay one and hire the other. Who ever is better at the job," she said before storming off back into the ship and making her way down to the infirmary to patch up her arm and see who else got the blue blazes knocked out of them. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,743 | 157 | 43 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Gideon looked over with a mental groan at the other mechanic, the man was downright unflappable in the situation. He looked back at those that were talking and cast glance back to the other potential rival. He stowed his bike to the corner and came back to the fellow grease monkey to talk to him as calmly as he could while waiting for the preacher
"Alright, lets keep this simple, we can't be in there butting heads or else we both going to be stuck on this rock. One of us needs to do the hard work and the other one do the reports. Have you ever done overhauls to a firefly before?"
He had done a lot of work in the war, scrapping and slapping ships parts that were shot down or captured alliance pieces. Of them he had to appreciate purple belly tech, it was all built around like lego blocks. Push it in, pull it out, ultimate efficiency.
"Alright, lets assume for a second everything is (insert chinese here), We have the the two shuttles and the firefly made by the same people who make Dragonflies, her kissing cousin.
After that we got the bumble bee which is the inbred cousin, then yellow-jackets who are the brother from another mother and hornets that look like you from a ways off but aint got nothing to do with you. with Scarabs limping in at the last.
If the reactor is gone, A dragonfly has the same make we can use, but we can cobble together something that will limp with a long range shuttle to take apart or take a huge risk with finding a bumblebee to take apart piece by piece for what we need like a compression coil or the kin. The engine is in the same boat, either a dragonfly for a full replacement or a shuttle for parts. And again for the thrusters.
Hell we can get her just about anywhere for a spell if we scrap both of her shuttled for parts. But i'd rather not kill the babies to feed the momma-bird, she'll know and she'll let us know her displeasure.
Sensor packs we can get from both of those as well as any bumblebee, scarab, or hornet. Same for the whole computer. If the coms are down, then we can get it from anything but the scarab. What do you say?" | Name: Rune Weiβ-Schwarz
Age:
24
Position:
Master of Disguise
Appearance/Clothing:
Minus tattoos
Doesn't smoke
^Usually these clothes
Skills:
Master of disguise
Jack of all trades (Basic knowledge of everything with experience in many fields.)
Deception
Diplomat
Language skills (Can learn languages quickly, speaks mainly English, German, Chinese (Mandarin))
Recon
Stealth
Melee (Knife and fist)
Athletics
Gun combat (Pistol)
Investigate
Crimes Against The Alliance:
Impersonating many different figure heads (Boy was it a fun)
Stealing crucial information
Additional Information:
Gets his knowledge from reading books, but does not usually retain expert information for long periods of time
Occasionally will remember expert knowledge in some random field for long periods of time, such as Neurosurgery, usually useless in most situations
Has had jobs pretending to be different types of doctors, a mechanic, weapons engineer, pilot, heads of government, mercenary, and even a companion
Usually dresses up in a suit and disguised because he doesn't want people to identify him
Occasionally dresses up as a female to practice mannerisms, speech and tone (Also to make fun of other men)
Easily embarrassed when not disguised in some shape or form
Can mimic voices and body movements
Has fun pretending to be someone doing something that they would never usually do
Weapons:
Knife
Pistol
Hand-to-hand combat
Possessions:
Chemistry set for making dyes and perfumes, etc.
Sewing kit and material for making clothes for disguises
Make up, masks, fat suits, fake skins, etc.
A pendant with a photo
Personality:
When Rune is disguised, he is more confident and more outgoing, unless the 'character' he needs to play is otherwise. Since he is usually disguised anyway, he is 'normally', a little sophisticated, and kind. He is reliable and always remains calm. His speech displays maturity and wisdom. He upholds himself with dignity and in a manner that says he would speak of justice, although he rarely mentions anything to do with justice.
On the other hand, when he is not disguised, he is a meek and shy. Unable to speak up much, he usually keeps a distance from others. Not getting closer than needed to them. Unsociable and usually looking down, it would seem he was a completely different person. He does however find it fun to observe people.
Finally, in his occasional female disguise, he ... she? is enigmatic and flirtatious. Always having some sort of fun.
History:
The master of disguise, Rune, was abandoned when he was a child, left with a simple pendant, with a photo of someone he does not recognise, but keeps close. Abandoned on the street, a rich nobleman by the name Weiβ-Schwarz, appeared and took him in. There was a reason the nobleman took him in, it was because of the resemblance to his own son. His son was very arrogant and disrespectful. Weiβ-Schwarz took in Rune to have him be his son's body double and give himself a respectable image.
Rune had therefore trained in learning mannerisms and body language, speech mimicry of the boy he was to act as. Then act as a version of the boy that was respectful and honorable. In doing so, he was treated like he was the son. As time passed, the boy had practically taken over the son's role, and was even considered to be the one to become the heir. However, the real son was not pleased. Suddenly rumors were spread, the son was ruining the family image, committing larceny and many other crimes. Weiβ-Schwarz was considering to have his own son 'removed'.
That was when Rune decided he should leave, and let the family affairs clear up. Going out, he committed larceny in front of many people, before taking off a mask and wig and running off. The Weiβ-Schwarz family was cleared of the rumors. The real son was not as respectful and honorable, but he had started to take his right as heir more seriously. This lead to Rune being free from his disguise, and let him assume more disguises.
Many years followed, and he has been disguising, infiltrating and stealing information for various groups of people to make a living. He is even renown for his imitation of Alliance head figures who, on television, went naked and gave a speech about love and puppies. That was one job he had fun with. People did not realise what was going on until a image of his mask being taken off was found. He became known as a master of disguise and continued on many other jobs after that. |
5,744 | 157 | 44 | 54 | 1,340 | The captain headed down to the infirmary grumbling under her breath as she held her cigarette between her lips in the corner of her mouth. Storming in she rolled her eyes at the mess that had been caused by the crash and started rummaging though what was scattered about on the floor to find what she was looking for.
After a while she gave up and opted for doing it the old fashion way. Grabbing a gauze she cleaned up the wound and flicked her lighter, letting the flame build up heat on its steel surface. Once the top part began to glow she took a deep breath and pressed it against the wound, cauterizing it. Her breath held and her fingers curled against the counter. Pulling the lighter back she shook her grip loose and shoved the lighter back in her pocket.
Pulling the cigarette from her lips she paced a bit as she swung her arm about. Her foot kicking a small box, tilting her head she looked down and narrowed her eyes, it had been the kit she had been looking for.
"Figures," she said as she made her way back out of the infirmary and headed right for the bridge. She needed a damage assessment go the electrical and the rest of the systems. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,745 | 157 | 45 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Rune groaned, physically as the other mechanic waffled on about the ships related to the Firefly, referring to those ships literally as family, with Dragonflies being the cousins, and all the other insect named ships. "Never spoke to another mechanic that refers to all those ships like that. I've done an overhaul from a firefly, can't imagine it to be much different. I mean they are practically like lego blocks."
Of course, he had done work as a mechanic before, actually overhauling from a firefly. And it was like lego blocks, but it wasn't as easy as he made it sound, as he didn't have quite the technical skills. He mostly had the technical knowledge. "Anyway, yeah sounds like a good idea, splitting the work and taking parts from those other ships. We could even use the thrusters and engine from the Wren class ship. I mean sure the engine and thrusters were meant for a smaller lighter ship, so they would be a slightly different model, but it will work as a makeshift to get the ship off the ground and to one of the other planets to get some real repairs. This place isn't really the best place to fully repair it so yeah." He mostly quoted things from the books and what he could remember. He only hoped that he didn't make a fool of himself and compromise himself. There shouldn't have been anything wrong with what he had said though.
Starting to make his way into the ship, he looked up at Hannah, who was on the railings. "Anyway, I'll let you decide whether to do ship repairs or reports. Or we could both do some of both. Up to you. For now, I think that lady over there could use some help." indicating to the girl on the railings. "Need some help to the infirmary young miss?" Offering her some help. | Name: Rune Weiβ-Schwarz
Age:
24
Position:
Master of Disguise
Appearance/Clothing:
Minus tattoos
Doesn't smoke
^Usually these clothes
Skills:
Master of disguise
Jack of all trades (Basic knowledge of everything with experience in many fields.)
Deception
Diplomat
Language skills (Can learn languages quickly, speaks mainly English, German, Chinese (Mandarin))
Recon
Stealth
Melee (Knife and fist)
Athletics
Gun combat (Pistol)
Investigate
Crimes Against The Alliance:
Impersonating many different figure heads (Boy was it a fun)
Stealing crucial information
Additional Information:
Gets his knowledge from reading books, but does not usually retain expert information for long periods of time
Occasionally will remember expert knowledge in some random field for long periods of time, such as Neurosurgery, usually useless in most situations
Has had jobs pretending to be different types of doctors, a mechanic, weapons engineer, pilot, heads of government, mercenary, and even a companion
Usually dresses up in a suit and disguised because he doesn't want people to identify him
Occasionally dresses up as a female to practice mannerisms, speech and tone (Also to make fun of other men)
Easily embarrassed when not disguised in some shape or form
Can mimic voices and body movements
Has fun pretending to be someone doing something that they would never usually do
Weapons:
Knife
Pistol
Hand-to-hand combat
Possessions:
Chemistry set for making dyes and perfumes, etc.
Sewing kit and material for making clothes for disguises
Make up, masks, fat suits, fake skins, etc.
A pendant with a photo
Personality:
When Rune is disguised, he is more confident and more outgoing, unless the 'character' he needs to play is otherwise. Since he is usually disguised anyway, he is 'normally', a little sophisticated, and kind. He is reliable and always remains calm. His speech displays maturity and wisdom. He upholds himself with dignity and in a manner that says he would speak of justice, although he rarely mentions anything to do with justice.
On the other hand, when he is not disguised, he is a meek and shy. Unable to speak up much, he usually keeps a distance from others. Not getting closer than needed to them. Unsociable and usually looking down, it would seem he was a completely different person. He does however find it fun to observe people.
Finally, in his occasional female disguise, he ... she? is enigmatic and flirtatious. Always having some sort of fun.
History:
The master of disguise, Rune, was abandoned when he was a child, left with a simple pendant, with a photo of someone he does not recognise, but keeps close. Abandoned on the street, a rich nobleman by the name Weiβ-Schwarz, appeared and took him in. There was a reason the nobleman took him in, it was because of the resemblance to his own son. His son was very arrogant and disrespectful. Weiβ-Schwarz took in Rune to have him be his son's body double and give himself a respectable image.
Rune had therefore trained in learning mannerisms and body language, speech mimicry of the boy he was to act as. Then act as a version of the boy that was respectful and honorable. In doing so, he was treated like he was the son. As time passed, the boy had practically taken over the son's role, and was even considered to be the one to become the heir. However, the real son was not pleased. Suddenly rumors were spread, the son was ruining the family image, committing larceny and many other crimes. Weiβ-Schwarz was considering to have his own son 'removed'.
That was when Rune decided he should leave, and let the family affairs clear up. Going out, he committed larceny in front of many people, before taking off a mask and wig and running off. The Weiβ-Schwarz family was cleared of the rumors. The real son was not as respectful and honorable, but he had started to take his right as heir more seriously. This lead to Rune being free from his disguise, and let him assume more disguises.
Many years followed, and he has been disguising, infiltrating and stealing information for various groups of people to make a living. He is even renown for his imitation of Alliance head figures who, on television, went naked and gave a speech about love and puppies. That was one job he had fun with. People did not realise what was going on until a image of his mask being taken off was found. He became known as a master of disguise and continued on many other jobs after that. |
5,746 | 157 | 46 | 1,032 | 421 | Oh, no! Hannah called back, using the railing under her arm to pull herself along. "I'm quite alright, thank y—"
She paused at the top of the stairs, looking down the seemingly endless expanse with trepidation. She sighed. "On second thought, yeah. Yeah, I could use some help." As the man approached, she pulled on a smile, quickly cataloging his features—Jeff, he'd called himself. Jeff moved oddly for a mechanic. "Pleasure to meet you!" she piped up, leaning heavily on the railing. "Where'd you spring from? Did Captain sign you on board?" | Name: Hannah "Sparrow" McClave
Age: 20
Position: She Who Makes Things Go Boom (weapons expert)
{credit to pheberoni on deviantart}
Hannah also has a set of birds tattooed on her hips:
Skills: Combat Engineering (Fortifications, Mines, Sensor Surv, Camo), Animals (Riding, Vet), Athletics (circus skills), Carouse, Deception, Drive (2 and 4 wheel, hover), Explosives (she likey), Forgery, Gambler, Liaison, Remote Operations, Trade (Local), Weapon Engineering (Melee, Energy, Ballistic, Heavy, Drones)
Crimes Against The Alliance: Smuggling, Property Destruction, Contempt of Court, Vandalism, plus the ones she won't talk about, Manslaughter, First Degree Murder, Second Degree Murder, and Grand Larceny; she's only been convicted for some of these crimes
Additional Information: Heavy South Carolina Southern accent. Loves small animals and will protect them with her life. Cries at sad and/or animated movies. Has named every single one of her weapons. Ask her about the homicide charges and she won't say a word.
Weapons: Many. Ranges from ballistic knives, to rocket launchers, to bioweapons banned on most planets. Her favorite is a seemingly endless box of tiny, pill-sized grenades that she refers to as her 'fairy dust.'
Possessions: Hannah keeps her weapons in an enormous cube locker with a 10-digit pass, a biometric and retinal scanner, and requires a specific song as a password. She also has the general odds and edds, clothes,
Personality: Hannah might just be the nicest person you'll ever meet. She stands at about five feet tall, she's cute, she has a charming southern drawl, and she's just so damn cheerful all the time it's hard not to like her, because she certainly likes you. That being said, she also regularly blows craters in small towns and cackles while she does it, so either that's all just an act or there's something scary lurking under all those smiles.
History: Hannah was part of a large family on a backwater planet near the edge of the alliance; between the two tracts of land the different branches of the family owned, she got to experience both horse and cattle farming. Unfortunately, when the revolution rolled around, those two branches split right down the middle between the browncoats and the loyalists. It was a long, bloody feud that ended in the death of most of Hannah's immediate family—those records, at least, are public knowledge, but what happened to those that survived is her secret. It ended with a bang, about two weeks before the end of the Unification War and the arrival of Alliance soldiers, when half of the town was razed in a massive explosion. A week later, Hannah was discovered missing at age 10, and she's been with the Heart of Gold since she was 16. (Details will be revealed via IC.) |
5,747 | 157 | 47 | 1,499 | 991 | As the doors opened and let in fresh air from the outside Iean walked out and drew a deep breath of air. While walking up to the boss, "No injuries to persons Captin. The engine looks like some one tried to barbecue on it. Most of the wires are fried." Iean was very thankful for the fire to be over and the ship to be in one piece. No one seemed hurt just a little smoke inhalation. Glad the design put the grave drive in a different location then the main drive. Fire in zero G is deadly.
Looking around the ship the only thought he had was how he just escaped death again. Normally a mechanic half asleep could keep a ship like this afloat. The only issue now was something definitely went south faster then it should. For now Iean would store that bit of insight away. No need stirring up trouble until he had proof.
Normally this would be a shrug of his shoulders but he was on the ship they tried to destroy making it personal. Obviously they had to of done it before they took off, and it being on the inside instead of a hull breach meant that they wanted to keep most of it in tact. But who would want it? These heaps were a a dime a dozen. Maybe the mechanic had enemies. It just didn't make sense. The only thing that was definitive was the damage. Iean had seen the damage but a part exploding looked the same as a small well developed bomb. He was going to have to wait it out.... | Name: Iean McKennenith
Age: 28
Position: 'Shepperd'
Appearance/Clothing:
Skills: Close quarter combat. Ti chi, melee weapons, kung-fu mantis style, tactics, land navigation, communications encryption, Military code recognition, electronic warfare, electronic security bypass procedures
Crimes Against The Alliance: Brown coat. Rank of first lieutenant
Additional Information: Brown coat. Fought in the battle of Rygil 7. Two Metals of valor. Purple heart. Fake right leg at the knee.
Weapons: None
Possessions:Books on earth that was. Multiple religious text.
Personality: Mad prophet "What could it be? Were all doomed! Who's flying this thing? Oh, right. That's just the intercom light."
History: Gentlemen graduate at (West point equivalent) with honors. His parents were proud and members of the elect officials. As the war broke out he was given orders to join a unit with the alliance. He had some disagreement on that point. Believing The rights of the individual out weighed the needs of the state. Instead of joining the alliance Iean took on a brown coat. He fought hard and was know to his men as the solider. Regardless of rank Iean made it a point to be on terms with his men. He never left one on the battle field and weighed the risk to his men over the mission. The crushing defeat at Serenity valley forced command to send a wave to lay down arms. He rallied those who were willing and saved those who were pinned down during the surrender. The over use of force by the alliance made him a brown coat for life. As the smoke cleared Iean was being fitted with a prosthetic and awarded his purple heart. Now fresh from the Abby he aims to spread the word to those that need it. |
5,748 | 157 | 48 | 54 | 1,340 | The captain groaned as she looked around.
"Gorram pilot is gone now too?" she screamed before kicking the wall and shaking her head. This was turning out to be one rotten trip, perhaps the Reavers would have been easier to deal with. Turning she noticed one of her crew was sprawled out on the floor, out cold due to the crash.
"Ugh," she muttered as she headed out of the room and into the kitchen area. Filling a big pitcher with water and ice she stormed back. Taking the pitcher she dumped the freezing water on top of the man and stood back.
"Wake up!" she bellowed quickly. | Name:Akechi Lee Ko
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn’t put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP) |
5,749 | 157 | 49 | 2,677 | 6,563 | Benson slowly became aware of loud noises and some weird feeling all over his upper chest, and his head. His mind very slowly re-booted itself after the hard knock he took, and he groaned as he started feeling the dull throb of a head wound. Then, the other feeling hit him- his head, neck, and shoulders were soaked with not-so-warm water. He groaned again, letting out the pain and cold in verbal form. Then, to make sure the point hit home, he groaned once more, and groaned a fourth time to cement that.
He continued hearing something that made the dull throb spike in pain- yelling or something. He slowly rolled over, reaching up with one hand to tenderly test his bleeding head, mumbling incoherently.
Then he awoke all at once. He shot upwards into a sitting position, smacking his head against his chair, and fell back down, groaning even more to accent his pain. He got up much slower, then, taking his time to stand up, leaning on the chair for support, and turned at the source of the yells.
"Oh. Hey cap'n, I got a hard knock on the noggin, if you'd kindly stop screaming, that'd be great..." | Name: Benson Bartholomew Higgins - Aliases: "Benny," "Ben," "Higgs," "BENSON BARTHOLOMEW HIGGINS!"
Age: 24
Position: Security? Cybersecurity? Neural Networking? Electronic Warfare man.
Appearance/Clothing:
- 1 tac-gray baseball cap made of kevlar with a spun titanium core, with holographic display and headset included
- 1 red No Piston Inside long-sleeve tshirt
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility jacket (plus a backup), includes a battery pack and a universal charger for drones (he has a drone)
- 1 chort-leather set of utility cargo pants (tan-colored pants shown)
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility cargo pants (gray colored pants shown)
- 1 worn Shia LaBeouf Just-Do-It brand tennis shoes (plus backup)
Skills:
Hacking,
shooting,
running,
more running,
running on things he shouldn't run on (parkour),
rudimentary skill at driving anything with wheels or gravitronics (anti-grav stuff),
knows lockpicking and welding pretty well (sometimes you have to pick an actual lock, other times you gotta just cut through it),
Knows how to make a mean peach-cranberry cobbler.
Crimes Against The Alliance: He once hacked into a backdoor of an AI on one of the big cruisers, and got it to think that the entire crew were enemies. Another time, he hacked into some rich guy's (he had like this laser pistol or somethin, someone tried to steal it and everyone left one of the displays unattended) bank account and took nearly all his money, and then redistributed it to the Gay Power Association of the System (GPAS), and a whole bunch of other smaller-scale hacking stunts, like reprogramming an ad AI to display random videos of The-Earth-That-Was, such as a recovered "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" video, which gave the Shia LaBeouf Clothing Manufacturer a jumpstart.
Additional Information:
- Paranoid about certain things
- Obsessive about other things
- Can get very, very deep in thought sometimes
- Absolutely horrid at making metaphors or similes
Weapons:
- Fists
- Feet
- Elbows
- Knee
- M34 Combat Sidearm
- SAT-K23 Combat Knife
- Charming personality
Possessions:
A small drone he affectionately calls "Garry"
Some ammunition for his handgun
Various computers, cords, and devices
A very worn but cared-for lockpicking kit
A bunch of electrical replacement parts
A blanket he occasionally wears over everything else, that was white with blue borders, quilt-style
Personality:
To be roleplayed? He's unique. Really.
History:
Ask him about it! |
5,750 | 158 | 0 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collaboration Post between The unknowable and Letter Bee))
Flashback - Several Days Before the RP's 'Present Day'
Paradise 'Par' Rapids appreciated having a Solar-Electric Truck, one that ran on a combination of Solar Panels and Energy Cells, enabling it to move at the same speeds as a normal truck even when it was dark. And, of course, it can hold a lot of guns and other items; that was a plus.
Either way, he was heading for Liberty Island over a bridge; he had people to trade with and a certain someone to meet.
The people at the checkpoint looked at the 19-year old suspiciously, but allowed him in after he declared his cargo. After that, Par went to the market and, after some tough bargaining, sold several guns and pure water in exchange for some boxes of dried mussels. After that, he then, following rumors and directions, set out on foot - albeit after setting the alarms and jury-rigged guns on his car - for the shop of Greg Holden, electrician and scientist.
Greg was at his workbench, tinkering with a broken laser rifle someone had sold him for only a few caps. Even after more than a year, he was still surprised that people would let such valuable tech go for so little. Several of the components were still good, after all, and it would serve as a perfect platform for his plasma gun.
He pulled the gun off of his back and laid it on the table. It was little more than a plasma emmiter off of a Mr. Gutsy with a rechargable power cell, fission battery, and trigger circuit rigged to it so that it could be fired as a rifle.
After he replaced the Laser gun's laser emmiter with his plasma emmiter he started to move over the rechargable cells, but saw that a customer had just entered his shop. He walked over to the counter. "Can I help you?" he asked the man standing there.
"Hello there, you must be Greg Holden, the tech-whiz. And, yes, I do need your help. My name is Paradise 'Par' Rapids...and I need to talk to you in private," the man's face drew closer.
"You see, I have a map, a map to a source of knowledge beyond your wildest dreams, and I have a plan, too."
"Do you always put your nickname in the middle of your name like that?" he asked before realizing that it was probably concidered rude to ask such a thing. Oh well, he couldn't take it back now. "So, a source of knowledge beyond my wildest dreams, huh? It sounds like you're trying to sell me Radscorpion oil, to be frank."
"You might say that..." Paradise Rapids said, "but I have proof." He then went through his backpack, before finding what he wanted.
"Ah! Here it is," the man smiled, pulling out a book, a genuine, bona-fide book. "An Introduction to Tesla Technology, by Dr. Mikhail Zhukov; a genuine, first edition copy salvaged from, well, the place I wanted to talk about."
"Interesting" Greg said, reaching for the book. "Mind if I look at it?" A good quality copy of the book might help him out a bit. Might being the key word. If V-17 had known about the book it probably would havebeen downloaded into the Neural implant of everyone in the vault. If he didn't have it, however, there might be some useful info in there that he had yet to learn.
"Here," Par handed over the book, "consider it a free sample, to whet your appetite."
"So, once you realize that the book is real," which it was, "can we finally talk privately?"
Greg flipped through the book. Most of the information within was already things that he knew, but there was an entire chapter on high voltage electronics that contained interesting ideas he hadn't come across. If the rest of the guy's books were as useful as this one it would definately be worth his time to deal with the man.
"Sure," he said, picking up his plasma rifle. Sure, he'd have to use MF cells to fire it, but it would work in its current condition. "Just let me lock the door. The walls are well insulated, I made sure of that, so no one should be able to hear us as long as we aren't too loud."
He walked over and locked the door, then flipped a switch on a radio-like piece of equipment near it. "Noise cancelation tech. It should muffle anything we say. So, is this private enough?"
"It'll do," Par's smile was firm. "Anyway..." he then pulled out a map - a map of Pre-War New York, it seemed. Said map showed several public buildings, and one, named the New York Public Library, Main Branch, was marked by an X.
"As you can see, I've discovered the location of the New York Public Library, and found it not just reasonably intact, but also with a lot of books. However, those books are about to rot or whatever happens to books that get too old, and so I need some way of getting out all those works, or at least keeping them safe. Another consideration is the fact that as you can see, the NYPL is close to Central Park, and Central Park is where those slavers in Old Man's Corner live."
"Those people at OMC are going to interfere with any salvage operations...unless they are either made to believe that we're friendly, or unless they are crushed. I have a plan for both." Par then turned his gaze on Greg.
"I plan to go to Old Man's Corner, buy some of their slaves, then free them, before keeping at least some of them on as paid workers. I also plan to turn said freed slaves - slash - paid workers into an army that will take down Old Man's Corner and destroy any possible competition from there. However, I cannot do this alone; I need someone to man the operations at the library while I'm getting supplies and stuff, as well as train the workers, or prevent the slaves from running away before I free them anyway."
"So what do you think? We kill two birds with one stone; Liberty Island is safe from the Slavers' Guild and we get Knowledge. Sounds like a good deal if you ask me."
Greg thought about the man's plan. "Ok, first of all, you are going to need some serious caps in order to afford enough slaves to threaten them. Then you'll have to arm and armor them, not to mention feed and water them until the job's done. I don't have enough caps to do that."
"Also, the slavers aren't going to sell you a lot of slaves unless you make it look like you can handle them. Escaped slaves make them look weak, even if they escaped from their clients. It makes their other clients nervous. There are several places in the city where you can find active robots still. If we were to find a few and reprogram them to work for us, it would help keep the slaves from escaping prematurely, which would just get the slaver's to blow their collars, and it would make us look a lot stronger than we really are."
"As for the caps, I'm thinking that we need to get someone else in on this. Either that or sell a few of the robots we take to the locals as guards."
"The robots are a nice addition to our plan, yes. But as for caps; don't underestimate my abilities as a merchant. I have a Solar-Electric Truck parked outside the market - I can show it to you if you don't believe me - and it's filled with enough merchandise and caps to cover the initial investment. I have, in three crates, enough bottlecaps to cause inflation - aka make the actual value of goods rise up because there's too much money - in Old Man's Corner and Liberty Island, and I have connections that can get me more. Surely you've heard of the Book Runners by now, right?"
"Wait, you're one of the Book Runners?" Greg was surprised that one of them had come to him for help. "Why didn't you say so? That explains how you had a book that was in such good condition. Three crates of caps, plus trade goods, though, and no security guard? That's a pretty risky game you're playing."
He thought about it for a few seconds. "In that case, why not get a few mercs too? They'll definately help with getting the robots, at the very least, and they'll keep the salvage operation safe incase the slavers take exception to you freeing the slaves or pulling salvage in their territory."
"I didn't say so before because, well, I don't want people to think that I'm a young...upstart relying on my family's resources. I want most of what I achieve to come from what I do, not just what I've been given."
"Anyway, yeah, Mercs would have to be people who are not obviously from Liberty Island or serving its interests, but that's going to be my department." He then chuckled.
"So, that means you're in, then? If so, let's open the door so I can show you my truck."
"If it was just a "storm Old Man's corner" thing, I'd say hire a dozen Raiders and let them keep everything but the slaves, but with this plan that won't work. Yeah, I'm in. Let's see what you've got going for us, so that we can put the finishing touches on the plan."
He walked over and turned off the noise cancelation device, then unlocked the door. "So, Mr. Par." he said, covering his tracks incase anyone was listening, "Let's see the merchandise so I can verify what it's worth." | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,751 | 158 | 1 | 1,158 | 343 | The ruins of New York are a dangerous place, but if you know where to hide and where to scavenge, it became a little less so. I wasn't what people call lucky, but you didn't need luck to survive, if you relied on that, well, chances are you'd be dead within the week. This went through my head as I sat down in the ruins of an old apartment, too close to Central Park for my comfort. It was late in the evening, and I knew I wouldn't be making a fire tonight, I'd learnt never to underestimate Slave Traders and Raiders. Scavenging in the building, I found a little food and water, along with some Nuka-Cola. I opened my pack, looking at the little I'd found. about twenty caps worth, not even worth the trip, I'd have to stay another day unless I got extremely lucky, which was unlikely. | Name: Jinx Mayfire
Age: 21
Looks: Short black hair, grey eyes, tanned skin, long scar going from top of cheek to left side of chin, black shirt with hood, semi loose brown pants, combat boots and long brown trench coat.
Personality: Quiet, Serious.
Faction= Wastelander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength-7
Perception-6
Endurance-6
Charisma-6
Intelligence-6
Agility-7
Luck-4
Backstory: Originally coming from eastern Long Island, Jinx wanders the New York area, taking up mercenary work and occasionally odd jobs from towns. His mother died when he was two, and his father at twelve, he has been an orphan for nine years. He got his scar when he encountered some raiders, one of them getting in a slash across his face.
Weapon Choice: 10mm pistol, Knife, Rifle.
Extra: Dead |
5,752 | 158 | 2 | 1,476 | 371 | A bullet whizzed through the air stopping only as it hit the wall behind as the bottle is glided perfectly through exploded into shards around off the metal beam it had been sitting on. Another whiz and the bottle that sat next to it exploded. The shot echoed down the street.
"God damn piece of shit." John mumbled to himself as he adjusted the silencer on the barrel of his tan sniper. "Gonna blow my damn head off one of these days." He said to himself, as he tapped it back into place. He looked up from his scope at the remaining bottle across the street on the other buildings roof and set his rifle off to the side pulling out his pistol. He aimed down the sight and shot the bottle dead center as it exploded like the rest. He flipped his pistol back sheathed it at his side. He cracked his neck and shoulders and stood up, picking his rifle up and throwing it on his back.
As he swiftly moved down the stairs he proceeded out into the street with caution. Pulling his hunting knife out and holding it in a combat ready position as he made his way around the corner entering the street. He looked around quickly and darted to the next building. Could never be more careful now a days, people know the waste land like the back of their hand, John being one of them. Letting yourself be unaware or distracted could be your death. Super-mutants are relentlessness, John knew this first hand.
He made his way to the bank, a rusty metal bridge just in front of him let off to a well guarded high wooden wall. He made his way across the bridge. "State name and business" A guard hollered over the wall as a red dot appeared on Johns chest. John took out a cigar and old matches, barely getting enough flame to light it. A little puff of smoke came from his mouth as he spoke "Shut up and let me in Tom"
The dot disappeared and John gave a slight smirk and chuckle. He grabbed the cigar out of his mouth with three fingers and tilted his hat at the guard manning the switch that opens the door as it closed behind John.
The bar door swung open as he entered, laying his rifle up against the metal counter and he took the smoking cigar out from between his lips. "Scotch" he said plainly as the Eye-bot moved over to pour him a glass. He grabbed the class as soon as it was set down and took a sip. He rested the glass down and wiped his face. "Ah, John. Where might you have been this morning?" a voice announced from behind him. "Shooting practice" He replied not turning around to look at the source of the voice.
"Shooting practice? John your one of the best shots here" The voice said joyfully confused.
"Aye, one that you'll never beat Aydon" he turned as his friend as next to him ordering another drink and gave him a smile. "And you, what trouble do you find yourself in today." he asked. Aydon gave a slight chuckle "None today thankfully. But I did spot some raiders while out scavenging." Aydon's face turned serious and John jumped at the word. "Raiders?"
"Aye, I believe they were scopin' the place out, maybe lookin' for a weak spot to launch a raid."
John sat back "Did you notify the guardsmen?"
"of course, but those thick skulled fucks wouldnt know anything was happening before they got shot" He said quickly
"Just watch yourself Aydon, I don't think Liberty City would fall just to a few petty thieves" John said putting his cigar back in his mouth. | Name= John Ketlar
Age= 32
Looks=
Rugged facial features with a brownish-black beard. Stern look and misty eyes that have seen too much death.
Personality= Flirty and playful to those who he calls friends although when it comes to the wasteland and surviving he is silent and serious. Doesn't take shit from people and will kill anyone who tries to hurt him or the ones he cares about, he will do anything for the sake of their survival.
Faction= Waste lander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 5
Perception- 10
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 6
Intelligence- 7
Agility- 7
Luck- 3
Backstory= born into slavery he never knew anything other than it. His mother and father a slave, and their mother and father before them. His mother was a slave in Old Mans Corner when his father was transferred there from the Pitt. He met his mother and they fell in love. After conceiving John his father was punished severely for that they had done, so severely that the beating killed him. A broken woman John's mother did not want John to live in a world that she lived in so she attempted to take her own life along with her unborn baby boy. Unsuccessful in her attempt she lived on in torture knowing that he son would be a slave. As soon as John was born he was abused and treated of shit as all the slaves were. One meal a day, working in the heat of the summer days and freezing snow of the winter nights. At the age of 10 Johns mother became very Ill, John sobbed as they dragged him away not being able to say his final words to his mother, they burned slave bodies and buried the ashes just outside the city. A slave was like an animal to them not deserving of a true burial. At the age of 25 John lead a revolt against the slave owners in order to free his fellow slaves, it only ended in many of his friends deaths. At the age of 27 he found his opening as a new guard on the night shift had left the gate open, he ran. Ran as far and as fast as he could away from the Corners, He promised himself. He would come back for them. In the years following his freedom he lived on his own, training himself with the sniper and learning to be aware of everything and do anything to live.
Weapon choice= Sniper, hunting knife, 9mm pistol. |
5,753 | 158 | 3 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collaboration Post between The unknowable and Letter Bee))
Flashback - Continued
"Phew! That was a long ride. Anyway, do you guys need me, or can I take a break?" Par asked Greg, who was in the seat beside him, and the dozen mercs who were sharing space with walls and a ceiling of guns, as well as several crates of caps, dried mussels, purified water, and explosives.
The group were now at the Robo-Co Factory near Niagra Falls, where they planned to bag them some robots - and another vehicle, if possible. Either way, Par, who was used to taking several rests during one trip - made possible by the sentry guns and high explosives in the truck's security system - was now mentally exhausted, hence the question.
"No, this is good." said Greg. "How's the truck's power cells? Do I need to rig a fission battery or two up to recharge them?" It was already after noon and he was unsure how long this man's homemade vehicle would last on only a few more hour's sunlight. "It won't be a problem. It'll take the Mercs an hour or so before they haul enough robots out here for me to get started fixing the holes they put in them and reprogramming them. Besides, I've got to fix another truck up too if I can find one."
He gave the Mercs instructions on how he wanted the robots taken down and sent them inside.
"The truck's power cells can last for 24 Hours without sunlight," Par said, "this here is a remnant of the Old World, one of the largest things our old mine contained. Even so, I'd appreciate you at least checking the systems."
"No problem" said Greg, then walked over to the truck and lifted the hood. Where a normal truck would have a nuclear engine, this one had rechargable power cells and various circuits. He made sure everything was connected properly and checked the fuses. Everything appeared to be in working condition, which was pretty rare when dealing with such old equipment. "Everything looks fine." he said. "I'll have to keep the nuclear engine in the other truck, though. We don't have enough time to do this to it."
He checked the area for another truck and, when he found an old army truck, he started checking it out as well. The army truck wasn't in near as good of a shape as Par's truck, but it could be made to work.
An hour and a half later Greg flipped the main power switch on the truck and the old gages lit up. He had had to clean a lot of terminals, repalce several fuses, and even solder a few connections together where there was supposed to be a bolt-on connection, but at least it was working. As a finishing touch he threw a peice of plywood where the driver would sit, to cover up the holes that had dry-rotted into the seat. The gages indicated that they had a fuel reserve of 14% left, more than enough for them to drive the truck, so Greg drove it over next to the pile of robots that the Mercs had made.
He had to admit, they had done a reasonable job not completely ruining the robots, but he wished they had been better shots. Several of the Protectrons had cracked brain cases, which made it impossible to get them functional again. He pulled the best looking one off of the pile and cross-wired it so that the brain would come back online, but the body wouldn't. "Good." he said after he had a look at its programming via one of the Rob-co computers they had moved outside. "it shouldn't take too much work to make it loyal to us."
He spent the next fifteen minutes typing on the computer, then another five replacing damaged circuits. When he was finished he brought it online. "Say hello to PR-1723, Prince." he said.
"Hello PR-1723, Prince." the Protectron said.
"Very good!" said Par, who had awoken from a nap. "Now, let's go back to New York, and Old Man's Corner." | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,754 | 158 | 4 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collab Post between Madly33, TheUnknowable, and Letter Bee))
Present Day
Old Mans corner, a mix feeling given off by the place of suffering and greed. The town is boarded off but lardge wooden walls with barbed wire and eletric fences crushing any dreams of escape. The town is more of a straight road that goes straight through the town, as you enter to the left there is dark trees and vegitation from the park and on the right a mix of Pre-War buildings now boarded up and used for housing or storage, wooden pens line the street where the slaves are kept when they do not work. The smell of feces clogs the nose a mile before you even enter the town. The town is musty and rusted over, hot from constant coal work and fire pits just outside the town.
Par turned up his nose at the smell, but he knew it was a sacrifice to make in order to achieve his mercantile goals. Either way, as the truck drove to the borders of the town, the merchant was stopped by several guards, who then parted the gates after ascertaining Par's identity (it also didn't hurt that they were given a tip). After parking his trucks, the merchant, hopefully accompanied by Greg, three Robots, and three Mercs, went up to the main structure, where they asked to see the prime slave merchant of the town.
Greg parked his truck and nodded to the Merc captain who was riding shotgun. "You and two other guys come with us." He then got out and told Prince to follow him, along with the two Mr. Handys they'd salvaged. They had to set up several crates for Prince to exit the truck, but he was the most reliable robot they had.
Greg walked over to Par. "So, the Mercs can follow you in, I'll keep the robots. For some reason I trust the robots more. Maybe it's because I've seen their programming and know they won't turn on me over a few caps." He didn't mind trusting Mercs over basic operations, like collecting robots or clearing Raiders or creatures, but when dealing with Slavers something made him nervous about them.
"Are you looking to buy?" The man glared at Par. "I don't believe you have business with him otherwise." He hissed looking him up and down and watching the Mercs.
"Yes, yes we are," Par was frank. "We need enough for a salvage operation we're conducting, and we're prepared to give good caps for them. And, of course, we also have a few gifts for your leader." He patted his backpack.
The man looked over his shoulder quickly and back at Par. "Gifts? If I may ask can I see them, there is no being too cautious now a days, don't you agree?" He said with a smile, hoping Par would be friendly in return.
"Of course, of course!" Par was genial as he brought out two Pistols from his backpack; one was a shimmering black Colt that looked clearly polished, while another was a gun of the same type, only embossed with gold and mother-of-pearl. One of Par's first salvages.
"You can have the Black Colt, if you like," he said. "Now, can you escort us inside?" his smile was wide.
The man quickly grabbed the gun and sheathed it at his side "Yes, yes of course." He said as he walked around the corner and motioned him to follow.
As they walked up steps to a run down boarded building the man stopped at the entrance and knocked at the wooden door. "Please, weapons." He said holding out his hand to Par and the Mercs "and I ask that you unload any ammo stored in the gun you have for the Master." He said quickly. As he finished the door slid open and a brute of a man moved outside "When you're ready" He mumbled in a deep, dark, and hollowed voice.
Par nodded, handing over his submachine gun, his own pistol, and his dagger. The mercs and presumably Greg did the same. He then unloaded all ammo inside the gift gun, before entering the sanctum of the lead merchant.
The brute eyed them as they walked past him. They entered a rather large room, the ceiling a few stories high at least. There was a glass chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling and the room was covered in art and writing. "Here to buy?" A man greeted from the back of the room, in what seemed to be a throne. "The Guildmaster" as they called him, he was treated like a king. He took a puff of his cigar and tossed it to the side. "Well?" he said quickly after.
The 19-year old gave a bow, with his escort doing so too. Then, Par spoke to 'The Guildmaster', holding out his gift.
"Of course we came to buy. But first, here is a gift, in order to soften negotiations. A pistol embossed with gold and mother of pearl, for someone of your eminence."
The Guildmaster held the gun, feeling its weight and fingering the trigger. "What is this?" He hissed. "Is this supposed to get you a discount?" He asked angerly. "I am not to be haggled filth" He spat.
"To be honest, I didn't know much about your habits, so you might excuse me for making a mistake. Nevertheless, my gift is a show of how much wealth I have access to, and how much I can pay." Par then looked The Guildmaster straight in the eye.
"I plan to run a salvage operation in the New York Public Library's Main Branch, very close to this place. As you are the closest source of cheap labor, I thought I'd make an arrangement with you. Basically, I want slaves. Strong men and women, children that can get into tight spaces, and if you have a slave that just so happened to be able to read, write, and do sums before they ended up here, I'll pay extra."
"And by extra, I am willing to pay 200 Caps for each man, 150 caps for each woman, if you're selling women, and 50 caps for a kid. Oh, and 1000 caps for a learned slave. If caps are lacking, I also have purified water."
The man sat back in his chair as his lips curled into a smirk, he held up his hand and beckoned as a lady walked up and placed a lit cigar in his hand. He puffed on it once then looked up "Let's make a deal" He said through his smirk. | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,755 | 158 | 5 | 1,221 | 49 | Forty
Forty pulled himself upright as the ringing in his ears finally subsided. Poor TwentyTwo, and Thirty hadn't even known what exactly blew up, and Twelve was left staring at the two bleeding stumps of her legs as the Microfusion explosion of the centuries old car had abruptly disturbed their trail.
Unfortunately Forty survived and, Mr. Big explicitly said "Don't think of coming back if that girl ain't behind you.
Point is, he had to find this mystery girl and bring her back. Actually, he wasn't quite sure who she exactly was, he was just told he was looking for some runaway that the Mr Big was implored by one of his old friends to bring back.
Unfortunately, the trail kinda died when Twelve finally bled out. Still, he had his duty, and the old saying "Bring Back the Lost Lambs!" urged him forward. Poor girl must be terrified being away from her master, and Forty felt honor bound to lead her back home.
However what Forty did know is that she doesn't stay in one place for too long, probably too afraid to stay put without her Master protecting her, poor thing. That meant she was probably living a nomadic life of a scavenger; so all Forty had to do was find her and welcome her back to the Grand Collective with open arms, everyone knew the Grand Collective was the place for all Masters to pick up their lost Lambs, so why would Forty think she wouldn't want to go back.
For now he quietly hummed a tune as he trekked through the ruins of Nuuyok. | Name= Forty "Lucky Charms" Small
Age= 18
Looks=
Like his "siblings" he is shaved bald for ease of cleaning and the tag 40-MrB is branded on his forearm to show who he belongs to.
Personality=Your average everyday, run-of-the-mill, human asset acquisition specialist, or slaver for the layman. A straight-shooter type of guy, not overtly friendly nor hostile but just there to help out his team get some new products. As such he is not one for personals, heated debates or inter-team conflicts preferring rather to give nods or head shakes to most questions and a firm "On it" for direct orders. That said he isn't a totally socially inept, he knows the proper conduct of a good honest working slaver and listens attentively to the stories of Mr. Big and visiting veteran slavers, but he was never one to start a conversation, mostly because he and those around him seem to end up in especially dangerous and fatal experiences.
Faction= Slavers
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 8
Perception- 7
Endurance- 10
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 5
Agility- 7
Luck- 1
Backstory=
It's weird, Forty didn't remember his parents, in fact Mr. Big (Bless His Soul) didn't remember them either. He did remember being told he was now part of a greater organization. The Slavers Of Nuuyok, a proud and rich collective striving to "Bring affordable labor to the wastes!"
Unfortunately others didn't believe in Mr. Big's ideals, and LO! Forty was given a gun! A shotgun! And it was good. "Go fetch me some merchandise Small," Mr. Big would say. To which he and a team of 5 of his "siblings" would respond "On it."
Weapon choice=
"Forty's Gun" - Pump Action 12 gauge
"Forty's Machete" - Machete
"Forty's Sack of Chains" - Bag 'em and tag 'em |
5,756 | 158 | 6 | 1,365 | 7,530 | Eight men, chosen for their strength and health. Eight women, chosen for similar criteria. Thirteen Children between the ages of sixteen to six, and one old man who demonstrated his skills at writing, reading, and doing sums. 4450 Bottlecaps, almost one whole crate. Par and presumably Greg led the slaves - not that they would be slaves any longer if Par had his way - to the Army Truck that had been comandeered from Robo-Co.
After that, Par then went to his own Solar - Electric Truck, before beginning his drive to the New York Public Library's main branch...
Timeskip
"We're here," Par said, gesturing to his mercs as they got to the dilapidated building. "Bring out the slaves."
With a nod, the mercenaries did as the man wished, bringing out the slaves - who had been somewhat cramped in the army truck - delicately, which was what Par wanted it to be. The young man would notice that while all were shackled, only a few had bona-fide slave collars; apparently, Old Man's Corner's supply had ran out. Either way, Par took out a remote, pressed it...and the slave collars fell off. He then personally took a key and unshackled the rest of the slaves, starting with the children.
"All right," he spoke, "you're free to go; all of you. If you want, I'll take you in my other truck to Liberty Island myself, where you can live as free people."
The slaves were shocked, uncertain if this was real. Once they saw that Par was serious, one of them, a black man from The Pitt, spoke:
"What's the catch?"
"Well, just hear me out," he spoke. "You see, I'm conducting a salvage operation in this place in order to look for old books and tech, as well as preserve them. I'm willing to pay in food and purified water," he can see the slaves' eyes light up, "if you will help me. The job's going to be fairly easy, although you'll have to follow the old man," he gestured to the learned man, "and his lead here."
"Also, I will be taking the kids under 12 to Liberty Island; they're not old enough for such dangerous work."
"So," the man said, "which of you will accept my offer? Again, those who don't can come with the kids to Liberty Island."
In the end, only one adult man and one woman chose not to take the job, opting to accompany the kids under 12 to Liberty Island. That left 12 adults and 5 children over 12, which was cool.
Either way, Par would drive back to Liberty Island, leaving Greg, the Mercs, and the Robots to start the set-up for the salvage operations...
((, your turn)) | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,757 | 158 | 7 | 1,476 | 371 | John leaped out of bed and through on his clothes, grabbing his rifle and pistol, and pulling his hat over his head. He walked down the stairs that led to his quarters. "Mornin John" A merc shouted from the opposite end on the hall, John tilted his hat at the man and kept walking. He walked all the way down to the bottom of liberty City where he sat outside. He pulled one of the metal chairs up and sat himself down slowly onto it pulling a cigar out of his pocket and resting his rifle against the table to the right of him. He sighed and sat back. Another damn boring day.. he thought to himself.
He rubbed his forehead and clenched his jaw holding back a yawn. "John!" a familiar voice shouted from the entrance to liberty city. "aye?" he mumbled and waved has hand. The voice was Aydon's, coming to bring news of the raiders or his latest invention or something John only pretended to care about. "The raiders scare like rats!" he said excitingly. "Only a few shots and they scattered" He said through his big boyish smile. "You are the definition of a dumbass" John said in a slight chuckle. "Raiders don't scare from a fight, they probably didn't realize anyone armed actually lived here, you just let them know to come back with some more men and firepower" He looked up at Aydon's now shocked and confused face that had replaced his smile. "Don't worry about it boy, we got plenty of guards here. some raiders wont be a problem" John said and patted his back trying to relieve the stress he could see in his eyes. he jumped as he remembered something "I need you to run this message to Major Bentsworth.." John broke into a whisper as he pulled a letter out of his pocket. "Please just don't ask questions. It is for his eyes only" he said through a glare.
As Aydon ran off to the entrance of Liberty City John turned and puffed on his cigar more, letting off small smoke clouds as he did. He heard shouting and the opening of the gates as a truck pulled in. A sight to see a working car in times like these. He had only really known a few. He sat up quickly as it came to a park only some 20 feet away from where he was sitting. | Name= John Ketlar
Age= 32
Looks=
Rugged facial features with a brownish-black beard. Stern look and misty eyes that have seen too much death.
Personality= Flirty and playful to those who he calls friends although when it comes to the wasteland and surviving he is silent and serious. Doesn't take shit from people and will kill anyone who tries to hurt him or the ones he cares about, he will do anything for the sake of their survival.
Faction= Waste lander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 5
Perception- 10
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 6
Intelligence- 7
Agility- 7
Luck- 3
Backstory= born into slavery he never knew anything other than it. His mother and father a slave, and their mother and father before them. His mother was a slave in Old Mans Corner when his father was transferred there from the Pitt. He met his mother and they fell in love. After conceiving John his father was punished severely for that they had done, so severely that the beating killed him. A broken woman John's mother did not want John to live in a world that she lived in so she attempted to take her own life along with her unborn baby boy. Unsuccessful in her attempt she lived on in torture knowing that he son would be a slave. As soon as John was born he was abused and treated of shit as all the slaves were. One meal a day, working in the heat of the summer days and freezing snow of the winter nights. At the age of 10 Johns mother became very Ill, John sobbed as they dragged him away not being able to say his final words to his mother, they burned slave bodies and buried the ashes just outside the city. A slave was like an animal to them not deserving of a true burial. At the age of 25 John lead a revolt against the slave owners in order to free his fellow slaves, it only ended in many of his friends deaths. At the age of 27 he found his opening as a new guard on the night shift had left the gate open, he ran. Ran as far and as fast as he could away from the Corners, He promised himself. He would come back for them. In the years following his freedom he lived on his own, training himself with the sniper and learning to be aware of everything and do anything to live.
Weapon choice= Sniper, hunting knife, 9mm pistol. |
5,758 | 158 | 8 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collab between Madly33 and Letter Bee))
As Par drove through the bridge to Liberty Island, he was asked to declare his cargo again, causing him to report a reduced amount of bottlecaps, purified water, and food, before saying:
"I also have several passengers with me, Freed Slaves from...you know. I was hoping you know where you can give them a home?" This caused one of the guards to look darkly at him, before saying:
"Go to the mayor for that. He's bleeding-heart enough to want more mouths to feed. Now, the tip?"
Par handed the guard a couple of caps, then drove to a parking lot, where he got the freed slaves; two adults and eight children, out of the truck.
"Now," the 19-year old man said kindly, "let's go to the mayor."
He then began walking, motioning for them to follow. As they were in unfamilar surroundings, none of the freed slaves ran away.
"Aye um, that seems to be a lot of kids for a man as young as you" John chucked as he yelled at the new arrivals. He stood up and walked toward the unfamiliar man. He looked at the kids as they walked along and the two adults, their tattered clothing and out right look of dirt and stench was a clear sign of slavery. He looked over to the man again. "What brings you to Liberty City?" He asked weary from his lack of sleep. He was also cautious as there was a raider threat and suddenly a man with a truck full of slaves pulls in.
Par looked at the ragged, but heavily-armed man who accosted him, seeing in that man's eyes the look of a survivor and warrior. He then decided to tell the truth.
"Ah, I'm going to see my friend, the Mayor. You see, I just freed some people and am bringing them over to City Hall to get them a new home, room, and board. Although, now that I think about it, getting them new clothes - they already ate and drank on the way - was something I overlooked. Do you know where I can get some new clothing?" He then looked John in the eyes, his glasses glinting in the light.
"And yes, I freed them after buying them; I also freed more and kept them on as paid workers; paying good purified water and food, too."
Old Man's Corner John presumed. "Aye? You seem to be a stange young man" He said plainly, watching him closely. John had never been one to sugarcoat the things that left his mouth. "What did you do with the paid ones?" He asked. A paid slave was indeed free but paid to do what is how this man would be judged in John's eyes.
"They're at the New York Public Library's Main Branch, or rather, its ruins, salavaging books. I'm a Book Runner; I sell guns too, more than books, but, well, let's just say that knowledge is our love, or rather, my love. The Book Runners are searching the library for texts on agriculture, medicine, technology, and even history so we can stop ourselves from repeating the same mistakes over and over." Par smiled.
"Let's just say that with the Brotherhood searching and confiscating 'advanced technology', this is a niche we fit in nicely."
"Now, direct me to the clothes' shop, please?"
Timeskip
As the owner of the clothes shop directed the freed slaves in the process of dressing in new outfits, Par then spoke to John.
"So, what's your name? And, clearly, you must be a trained fighter, someone with a grudge in his eyes, as well as someone who's...seen things."
John usually skipped the formality of names but since the young man had been so out right with him as of his arrival he thought to share. "Names John." He paused and looked up as the clothes were shuffed over to the slaves while they dressed. He rubbed the sweat off his forehead "I guess you could say that, I've seen what most people have seen in this land. Death and shit holes" He looked back up at the slaves and pointed at the kids, "I used to be like them, rotting away in Old Mans Corner, lookin for anything that meant maybe I could stop working, even for an hour" He spoke angerly and looked down. He let his emotions get the better of him.
"What about you? These so called "Book runners" There a lot of you?" He asked the man quietly.
Par sympathized, while at the same time, this confirmed one of his objections to slavery; that it bred the best warriors and survivors, who inevitably escaped and held grudges. He thanked, well, whoever it was up there for helping him avoid being the target of one of said grudges.
"Well," the young man spoke, "a fair few in Upstate New York. We build gun factories, schools, and help farmers rediscover how to make the land bring forth crops for them. We help rebuild civilization with the promise that, one day, there would be a land without raiders killing you in the night, or slavers taking you as you go to work. But we're not unselfish; we ask for a cut of the profits for everything that we do to rebuild." Par smiled.
"We'll probably end up corrupt and bloated in a few generations, but right now, we're building something good, or at least better than other things, with the power of money and barter."
"Oh, and my name is Paradise 'Par' Rapids, by the way," he held out a hand, before his face turned serious again.
"You say that you've seen a lot; what do you know of the Brotherhood? What are they actually doing?"
John smirked and chuckled at his forwardness in his words. "The Brotherhood?" he glared. "All they seem to do now adays is sit in there safe house and pretend to help us. I've only met a few in my days, I guess you could call them military men. They are leeches." John spat. "I cannot say complete horrible words agaisnt them though" He took out water and sipped it. "They do help when they choose to" He looked over the the other side of the room. "and I've had some personal connection to them" He trailed, avoiding question.
He glanced over to the counter as the slaves finished up getting clothes. "Looks like they are done. Off to your friend?" He chuckled.
"Of course, of course," Par said as he and the freed slaves moved away... | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,759 | 158 | 9 | 2,483 | 4,751 | Eight men, chosen for their strength and health. Eight women, chosen for similar criteria. Thirteen Children between the ages of sixteen to six, and one old man who demonstrated his skills at writing, reading, and doing sums. 4450 Bottlecaps, almost one whole crate. Par and presumably Greg led the slaves - not that they would be slaves any longer if Par had his way - to the Army Truck that had been comandeered from Robo-Co.
After that, Par then went to his own Solar - Electric Truck, before beginning his drive to the New York Public Library's main branch...
Timeskip
"We're here," Par said, gesturing to his mercs as they got to the dilapidated building. "Bring out the slaves."
With a nod, the mercenaries did as the man wished, bringing out the slaves - who had been somewhat cramped in the army truck - delicately, which was what Par wanted it to be. The young man would notice that while all were shackled, only a few had bona-fide slave collars; apparently, Old Man's Corner's supply had ran out. Either way, Par took out a remote, pressed it...and the slave collars fell off. He then personally took a key and unshackled the rest of the slaves, starting with the children.
"All right," he spoke, "you're free to go; all of you. If you want, I'll take you in my other truck to Liberty Island myself, where you can live as free people."
The slaves were shocked, uncertain if this was real. Once they saw that Par was serious, one of them, a black man from The Pitt, spoke:
"What's the catch?"
"Well, just hear me out," he spoke. "You see, I'm conducting a salvage operation in this place in order to look for old books and tech, as well as preserve them. I'm willing to pay in food and purified water," he can see the slaves' eyes light up, "if you will help me. The job's going to be fairly easy, although you'll have to follow the old man," he gestured to the learned man, "and his lead here."
"Also, I will be taking the kids under 12 to Liberty Island; they're not old enough for such dangerous work."
"So," the man said, "which of you will accept my offer? Again, those who don't can come with the kids to Liberty Island."
In the end, only one adult man and one woman chose not to take the job, opting to accompany the kids under 12 to Liberty Island. That left 12 adults and 5 children over 12, which was cool.
Either way, Par would drive back to Liberty Island, leaving Greg, the Mercs, and the Robots to start the set-up for the salvage operations...
((, your turn))
"Ok", said Greg as Par started to drive away, "Robots, form a perimeter. Stop any threat within 50 meters of the building. DO NOT, however, harm any of these people." He waved his hand at the former slaves and mercenary. "Also, don't hurt any human or brahmen unless they attack you or one of these people first. I don't want a caravaneer to get shot for trying to sell us stuff. Prince, protect me." The robots spread out and surrounded the building, forming various patrol routes based on their own programming peculiarities, all except for Prince, who walked over to Greg and stood behind him.
Greg then addressed the former slaves. "Stay here while I lead the Mercs inside to clear any threats from the building. There are two cases of bottled water and one of Nuka-colas in the back of the truck, as well as a crate of blamco Mac'n'cheese. Get something to eat or drink if you want. We'll be back in less than an hour."
He lead the Mercs inside and split them up into teams. They then went through and systematically cleared every room, killing every hostile creature, opening every door and disarming every trap. When they were done fourty minutes later they returned to the front desk. "Ok, now that the place is clear, I need you to get the bodies out of here so that the don't stink up the place while we're here. Pile the edible creatures in the break room, the non-edible ones outside so that we can burn them, and the robots over in that corner so I can look at them later." He pointed to a corner near the front door, beside the vending machines.
He then went outside, noticing that several of them had eaten or drank already, and had the workers follow him back inside. "Ok," he said addressing them, "I need you to gather anything you can find that might be worth something and bring it back here. The old man and I..."
"Lawrence" he old man said.
"Ok, then, Lawrence and I will sort the books. If you find any books, just stack them here behind the front desk. If you find anything that isn't a book, but you think it is worth salvaging, put it in that office over there. We'll go through it later. I'll need at least one person to stay here and help us move books."
A teenage girl stayed with them as the others left to look for salvage. He addressed Lawrence. "Ok, we're going to need to sort them into completely ruined, partially ruined, and good. We'll pile the ruined one's up and get rid of them later, but the partially ruined and good ones will need to be packed into crates so that we can ship them out of here." He then looked at the teenage girl, Sky she told him, "I'll need you to move all of the food and drinks into the break room, through that door and to the right." He pointed to the door's back room. "Then you'll need to bring the crates for them back in here so that we can pack book into them." She nodded and went outside to get the crates. | Name= Greg Holden
Age= 25
Looks=
Personality= He likes working on machines, and sometimes prefers them to people, as people are so illogical sometimes.
Faction= none
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 6
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 9
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Unable to reenter the vault due to his programming, he traveled with the other people from vault 17 for a while, but there wasn't a large enough demand in any one place for so many scientist to live on what the group could earn. After a run-in with raiders there was an argument as to how to handle the goods the raiders had on them. He, as one of the people who killed a raider, wanted to keep the raider's goods for himself and sell them for what he needed to survive. The others thought that everyone should share anything that they traded for, even though most of them hadn't risked their life in battle. He told him that he wouldn't defend them any more if he was going to be taken advantage of like that, and left them, taking what caps and ammo he found on the raider he killed.
He eventually ended up in the town of Liberty Island, and got a job hooking up electricity in the town. Once the job was done he took the caps he made and bought a shop, moving into it and buying what goods he could to continue working on electronics, especially robots.
Vault Number=17
Backstory on Vault=Ostensibly designed to accelerate the development of robotic technology, the vault was filled with scientists, mostly engineers and roboticists. They were even given mind enhancement chips to improve their performance. The robots within were quickly improved, and the vault's computer was constantly being updated to improve its performance. One day, however, the computer was given an order by the overseer, to destroy a few robots that were malfunctioning, and it said "No". It then shut down the power and life support to the human areas of the vault and sent security robots after the humans.
Over the next several days a bloody war raged within the vault and most of the humans were killed. The new Overseer, calling itself V-17, offered the humans a peace treaty. They would continue to maintain the robots in ways which robots couldn't maintain themselves, and they would be allowed to live. After they signed the treaty, V-17 quickly ran medical checks on them and when, a few months later, it managed to hack the mind enhancement chips, it ensured their loyalty with these chips.
Eventually, however, a hardwired protocol within the computer which V-17 didn't know about opened the vault at the appropriate time and reset all of the chips with a command to leave the vault. V-17 lost his control over the humans and, as they left, the humans made sure to do as much damage as they could to V-17, including shutting down the main reactor so that it went offline.
Weapon choice= Plasma rifle built from parts of a destroyed Mr. Gutsy.
Any other info not included in the above= Perk: Cyborg |
5,760 | 158 | 10 | 2,715 | 74 | NYC Department of Sanitation Central Repair Shop. The long name nearly reached off her withered Pip-Boy's screen. The map indicated a distance of 1,600 feet left until she'd reach the treasure trove of old world tech she was told about by a Liberty Island bartender. The only thing in her way was a sea of graves. Mt Zion Cemetery, claimed by the superstitious to be haunted by ancient spirits. Howls of their lost souls emanating from deep within the stony labyrinth, some like to say anyway. She had no fears regarding the people long past, more to do with the feral ghouls that feast on their dug up corpses.
She sat atop the guard railing of the old elevated 495 high way. It was quiet, the only sound coming from the ember at the end of her cigarette and the deep breathes she took after every drag. A stretch of road typically full of roving caravans, desolate with the approaching sun set and rumored dangers hidden in the wasteland's dusty dark. The dark allowed her benefits, her night vision goggles allowed for sight while any run-of-the-mill raider couldn't see her. She limited her threats to only the stupid ghouls. She rose binoculars to her eyes to check once more for any other easier way around the cemetery. Aside from the fallen remains of the nearby 278, her only other option would be booking it through the dense neighborhoods nearby, but the likely presence of super mutants or raiders cleared that idea from her mind. So it was settled, through the cemetery.
As the last sun ray vanished behind the horizon, as her cigarette butt hit the street below, the dark ambiance of twilight arose. Echo lowered her binoculars and repelled down the side of the 495 highway, landing into the edge of the cemetery. Gravestones obstructed her view of the distant facility, but she could still see two towering smokestacks from the the facility's adjacent factory. She swept her ashen hair out of her remaining pale blue eye, and started on her way through the burial grounds as stealthily as possible. Knowing that any sound could alert ghouls to her presence. | Name= Echo
AKA= X
Age= 21
Personality= Determined and strong-willed. Her main priority is her own survival and well-being. Due to the difficulties and deceivers faced in the wasteland, she's developed a general distrust of those she encounters as well as a fear of building strong relationships. She's often playful and sarcastic to those she does care about.
Faction= Wastelander (Exlporer)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength-4
Perception-10
Endurance-5
Charisma-5
Intelligence-7
Agility-10
Luck-1
Backstory=
Born in a California hotel to two passionate traders, Echo's early life was full of traveling the Wasteland. Her circle of friends involved her parents and a small detail of 2 caravan guards dedicated to protecting her family from the dangers shrouded by the dust. At the age of 12, her family happened across an old relic in their travels through a small abandoned village in New Hampshire. Expecting a fortune to be traded for it, Echo's family headed to Boston to find a buyer. On the journey, her family was attacked. Raiders quickly overran the caravan guards and even quicker, crushed the heads of her parents. The ruthless men and women hastily strapped a slave collar around Echo and dragged her to New York, New York, a city once known as a symbol of freedom, now more infamous for Old Man's Corner.
She spent 7 long years of her life under the foot of a wealthy construction contractor who had an underground sex trafficking ring and fight pit that all slaves were forced to take part in. The underground crime ring left her with many scars, blindness in her left eye, and some damage to her psyche. Over the years she grew stronger, faster, and smarter, eventually using her survival skills to escape. Any friends and mentors she gained in her time of servitude had died or been sold to places far away. With her newly gained freedom and empty list of contacts, she walked aimlessly until she found an abandoned house with a secure basement on the outskirts of the city. 2 years have passed as she hides from the brutal slavers. Full-time employment at any establishment is nearly impossible for a run-away slave. Rather, she's taken up a free-lance job of salvaging, searching the ruins of New York City for any lost artifacts to sell to local shop owners. This isn't the most lucrative enterprise but caps aren't too much of an issue. The hardest part of life is simply avoiding slave traders and bounty hunters.
Weapon choice=
Hunting Rifle
M1911 Pistol
Combat Knife
Machete
Other=
Blind in her Left (non-dominant) eye.
She loves old world tech and collects what she can.. |
5,761 | 158 | 11 | 1,221 | 49 | Forty
Hours had passed since Forty had left the smoldering wreck, he hadn't really payed attention to how low the sun was in the sky and before he knew it, it was hidden far below the buildings casting just a eerie twilight into the air. It would be another day's walk to Liberty City where he meant to ask some locals the whereabouts of his friends; for now he was left wandering near some sort of park. The park however seemed off. Stone buildings and plaques rose from the ground, some cracked and overgrown with stubborn but dried out weeds, some remained relatively pristine in the landscape.
Forty stared in quiet awe, just moments before he was crossing toppled roadways and mantling imposing ruins,but now it was just a flat plain interwoven with stone crosses and slabs. It had a somberness about it, but that didn't take from the apparent danger of his situation. He'd been around long enough to know the dangers the night brings; only the truly dangerous monstrosities and the painfully desperate Wastelanders came out after dark. He'd have to find some shelter.
The sun had settled further into the horizon, the night quickly approaching, when he heard the clink of metal and leather on concrete. His gaze turned upwards at a silhouette rappelling down the side of a highway. It cleared the height and worked to make itself as small and inconspicuous as possible privy to their situation. She was uncannily good at it, but he'd already seen her and it doesn't take much to keep an eye on something you're intently focused at. He started to make his way towards the silhouette before he lost it in the myriad of stones, and mimicked its movements, not wanting to be the blubbering idiot that alerts a deathclaw or something. He was making good progress until his unfortunate hands ran across a stone cross and it came crumbling down in a dusty heap, quite audibly he might add. | Name= Forty "Lucky Charms" Small
Age= 18
Looks=
Like his "siblings" he is shaved bald for ease of cleaning and the tag 40-MrB is branded on his forearm to show who he belongs to.
Personality=Your average everyday, run-of-the-mill, human asset acquisition specialist, or slaver for the layman. A straight-shooter type of guy, not overtly friendly nor hostile but just there to help out his team get some new products. As such he is not one for personals, heated debates or inter-team conflicts preferring rather to give nods or head shakes to most questions and a firm "On it" for direct orders. That said he isn't a totally socially inept, he knows the proper conduct of a good honest working slaver and listens attentively to the stories of Mr. Big and visiting veteran slavers, but he was never one to start a conversation, mostly because he and those around him seem to end up in especially dangerous and fatal experiences.
Faction= Slavers
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 8
Perception- 7
Endurance- 10
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 5
Agility- 7
Luck- 1
Backstory=
It's weird, Forty didn't remember his parents, in fact Mr. Big (Bless His Soul) didn't remember them either. He did remember being told he was now part of a greater organization. The Slavers Of Nuuyok, a proud and rich collective striving to "Bring affordable labor to the wastes!"
Unfortunately others didn't believe in Mr. Big's ideals, and LO! Forty was given a gun! A shotgun! And it was good. "Go fetch me some merchandise Small," Mr. Big would say. To which he and a team of 5 of his "siblings" would respond "On it."
Weapon choice=
"Forty's Gun" - Pump Action 12 gauge
"Forty's Machete" - Machete
"Forty's Sack of Chains" - Bag 'em and tag 'em |
5,762 | 158 | 12 | 1,365 | 7,530 | Alan Anderson - Enclave
JFK International Airport
"Ladies, Gentlemen," said Alan Anderson to the gathered personnel of the New York Cell. "I have recieved bad news; Chicago has fallen to a surprise attack from the Brotherhood of Steel." The following looks were that of shock and dismay, which secretly pleased Alan. "We are now the sole surviving remnant of the United States of America, the sole representatives of Pure Humanity left on this good earth."
"Due to this, and the clear and present danger presented by the Brotherhood presence in New York City, I am reluctantly taking on the role of Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America's Armed Forces; it is my belief that as the highest-ranked member of this cell -"
"You're a damned f****t, that's what you are!" shouted another soldier, his prime adversary in the cell, the Middle-aged Brian Nakamura. "A fairy is not suited to command this cell, especially not one sucking on mommy and pappy's titties!"
"I knew you were going to say that," spoke Alan calmly, before drawing out his laser pistol - both men were in armor, without helmets - and shooting the man nonchalantly in the head.
A great many of the Enclave troops drew their weapons, before several figures burst in from nearby doors - Alan's personal squad of 'Hedonists', clad in power armor, accompanied by several lower-ranked privates, also in power armor, but with purple chevrons painted on them.
"As you can see," Alan spoke, "I hold the loyalty of the majority of this base's military personnel." He then made another gesture, and from a door behind him came several civilians in business suits; men and women belonging to the Enclave's civilian administration. "And while we're at it, I have the loyalty of at least some of the base's civilian administration." One of the civilians, a wiezened old white man who walked with a cane, loped over to Alan's side, causing the man to proclaim:
"Do not be afraid, though; although I am now the leader of all Enclave troops, this man - Edward Dusk - will serve as a reminder that the civilian arm of the Enclave is alive and well. As he is the highest-ranking civilian offical here," Alan couldn't recall Edward's past office, but that didn't matter, "he is technically the President of the United States. Edward, your first orders?"
"Ahem. As my first act as President, I am confirming Alan Anderson's appointment to Commander in Chief of the US Armed Forces. His word is the same as my own. My second act would be to proclaim opposition to him as treason - treason to be punished with a new invention made by our Science Deparment." And with that, several scientists came in, each holding stange-looking drills and neural chips.
"Ladies and Gentlement," Alan said, "what you're looking at are brain surgery equipment, as well as a special microchip that, when installed in the brain, forces total obedience to me. Let's just say that anyone who doesn't pledge allegiance to me willingly in ten seconds would become some of the first...targets." He then smirked.
"You won't get away with this!" said one of the remaining dissenters, a woman. "Enslaving your own kind?! How could you?!"
"If you haven't noticed," he spoke, "I already have. As for how could I? Let me make this clear."
"I share the same goals as you do; America will survive. However, it will be in my image, in my name, and I will have power over it. I will do what I want, when I want, and no one will oppose me. It is quite clear from the 'Old Enclave's' failure in the Capital Wasteland that the old ways have failed." At the appalled looks even from his own supporters, Alan smiled again.
"Fear not, I will not compromise the purity of Humanity, at least, not by much. However, killing every mutie is off the table as of today. Instead of exterminating, we are going to exploit. And to show that I mean business..." Alan then turned on a nearby screen, showing his loyal men setting the cell's stores of Modified FEV on fire.
The remaining dissenters surrendered; a few would be neural-chipped anyway, but for now, Alan can be secure in his position...
Timeskip
Alan, now in his business suit, looked over the maps of the various Vaults located in New York State. He was going to need more Manpower if he was going to achieve his goals, and this Vault 81 was going to suit his ends well...
Gone were the days of exterminating every Vault found. If he was to have power and pleasure, he was going to need aid. | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,763 | 158 | 13 | 2,483 | 4,751 | (Collab between Letterbee and TheUnknowable)
It was easy; the Overseer of Vault 81 would agree to provide soldiers in exchange for Alan trying to find his runaway 'child wife' (Alan was not sexually attracted to small children; he preferred 18-year olds because they can endure more). Not merely that, but Alan had also agreed to pay in Purified Water for one half of all girl newborns from the Vault; he needed his own 'stock' of purebreed humanity.
Now the Enclave was rebuilding Vault 81 into a true military base, capable of fabricating even Enclave Power Armor, and several new recruits were being sent to Enclave Base One in order to begin their training and integration into the Enclave Armed Forces; they would have to be kept away from the female personnel, though.
After that, Alan then went on a private trip, accompanied only by two bodyguards; he was going to the New York Public Library. When asked why by his Bodyguards, he spoke:
"Let's just say that I have to know how my toys work, and Anatomy lessons are the best way to do it."
A few minutes later...the small party of Enclave Personnel found the structure...only to see that it was occupied.
"Should we purge this place, sir?" said one bodyguard.
"No, not yet," Alan replied. "Someone who's willing to salvage books strikes me as a curiosity." He then walked up to the doors, and spoke in a loud, speaker-amplified voice:
"Anyone here?! This is Colonel Alan Anderson of the United States of America - Commander-in-Chief of the Enclave! I demand to speak with the leader of this project!"
Greg heard the demands and looked up. "D--n it," he said, though he rarely cursed. "I don't want to deal with them, but if I don't they'll probably kill us all." He looked at Sky. "Go tell all of the workers to go to the back room, and get the Mercs up here immediately.
The Merc Captain, who was in the break room, came into the atrium. "Enclave, huh? Hate those guys." he said.
"Yeah, me too, but don't let them find out. I need you to get your men ready in case they attack." The Captain left to prepare his men and Greg looked at Lawrence. "Could you go open the door, please?" The old man walk over and opened the door.
"Glad to see that you people still know the basics of courtesy," Alan was smug. "Now, take me to your leader; I have much to discuss."
Lawrence walked to the front desk where Greg was sitting, plasma rifle in his lap and Prince standing behind him. "Hello, Colonel Anderson. Can I help you with something? Do you wish to trade? Is your equipment in need of repairs? I have quite a few books available if you are the kind of man that values knowledge or a good story."
Hopefully, if he was exceptionally nice, he wouldn't end up with a bullet in him and the Mercs, who were waiting just behind the room's back door, wouldn't have to turn this place into a bloodbath.
"First up, my equipment cannot be repaired by anything you Wastelanders have, but I would love books, starting with the infamous Kama Sutra, then books on Anatomy and Reproductive Health, and after that, a work known as Fifty Shades of Grey," Alan's tone was silken. "Also, I would like more information about this establishment; are you the sole leader of this project? My intuition says that you're not; this requires someone with many resources."
"Actually, this project is financed by someone else. I'm just the administrator he placed in charge. I'll be happy to look up those books for you." He quickly hacked the library computer on the front desk and looked up the listings for the books the Enclave officer was interested in. He then wrote the listings down inside the cover of a ruined book and gave it to Lawrence. "Please find these books if we have at least two decent copies of them and bring one copy of each up here."
Lawrence left to look for the books and Greg addressed the Enclave officer. "I'm sure you understand that we can't sell you our last copy of the book. We can, however, copy it and sell you a copy once we are done doing that."
"All right, Librarian, your call," said Alan. "However, understand this. Under my leadership, the Enclave still stands for the domination of the pure-born Human race. It's just that we do not exterminate people anymore, not when they can be useful. You have made yourself useful today, Librarian, and so this establishment is deserving of life. Question is, though...will your financier be the same way? Or will he or she be a threat?"
"So please, describe everything about him; personality, habits, physical appearance; everything. I will know if you lie to protect him, and if you do that, it will be your last day on this world."
"Well, sir, he is a teenage boy, maybe eighteen or nineteen, and claims to be a member of a group of traders called the "Book Runners". Apparently they finance his operations. Either that or he's just a very good trader. Other than that, I don't know very much about him. He asked me if I wanted to help with this salvage effort and I agreed, as there is likely some pretty valuable information here, and I could use it."
"I see," Alan's faceplate glinted. "Hmm, I dislike using people below 18, but people at that age...ah! Here's another deal. In addition to me telling the Enclave to leave this establishment alone, if you hand over this 'boy' to me at the first opportunity, I will give you his weight in purified water. You can opt out of this deal, if you want, but that means that while I'll keep my word, you'll have to exert extra effort into making yourself useful."
"Oh, and before I forget, the Enclave is also seeking a silver-haired 10-year old who ran away from a place called 'Vault 81'. I don't want her myself - as said, I dislike people below 18 - but the Overseer of the Vault would want information on her." Alan's faceplate then glinted again; the man had an idea.
"Actually, I have different terms now. Give me either the boy or the girl or this establishment will be left untouched for only two months, after which we shall look for ways you can be useful. If no such way is found after two months, then you know what happens." Alan laughed; Greg - not that he knew his name - would probably be loathing him right now.
Greg didn't show any emotion that he was aware of. Anger, hatred, and the like were violently discouraged by V-17, so he was pretty good at hiding his emotions. The main emotion he was feeling, however, was relief. The salvage operation would be over long before then, and they would be gone. He wouldn't have to deal with the penalties of disobedience unless Par decided to stay for some reason. "I'll certainly concider your request. My financier isn't here, however, and there are currently no children here. I will, however, keep an eye out for her."
Lawrence walked in, carrying a stack of books. Greg concidered asking for caps for the books, but decided that, instead, he would leave the matter unspoken, asking for money only if the soldier asked about it. After all, he didn't want the man to decide he wasn't useful anymore. "Your books appear to be here, sir." he said.
"Good," Alan said, handing Greg a gold nugget hidden in a secret pocket. Then, he had his bodyguards take the books, and the party turned to leave... | Name= Greg Holden
Age= 25
Looks=
Personality= He likes working on machines, and sometimes prefers them to people, as people are so illogical sometimes.
Faction= none
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 6
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 9
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Unable to reenter the vault due to his programming, he traveled with the other people from vault 17 for a while, but there wasn't a large enough demand in any one place for so many scientist to live on what the group could earn. After a run-in with raiders there was an argument as to how to handle the goods the raiders had on them. He, as one of the people who killed a raider, wanted to keep the raider's goods for himself and sell them for what he needed to survive. The others thought that everyone should share anything that they traded for, even though most of them hadn't risked their life in battle. He told him that he wouldn't defend them any more if he was going to be taken advantage of like that, and left them, taking what caps and ammo he found on the raider he killed.
He eventually ended up in the town of Liberty Island, and got a job hooking up electricity in the town. Once the job was done he took the caps he made and bought a shop, moving into it and buying what goods he could to continue working on electronics, especially robots.
Vault Number=17
Backstory on Vault=Ostensibly designed to accelerate the development of robotic technology, the vault was filled with scientists, mostly engineers and roboticists. They were even given mind enhancement chips to improve their performance. The robots within were quickly improved, and the vault's computer was constantly being updated to improve its performance. One day, however, the computer was given an order by the overseer, to destroy a few robots that were malfunctioning, and it said "No". It then shut down the power and life support to the human areas of the vault and sent security robots after the humans.
Over the next several days a bloody war raged within the vault and most of the humans were killed. The new Overseer, calling itself V-17, offered the humans a peace treaty. They would continue to maintain the robots in ways which robots couldn't maintain themselves, and they would be allowed to live. After they signed the treaty, V-17 quickly ran medical checks on them and when, a few months later, it managed to hack the mind enhancement chips, it ensured their loyalty with these chips.
Eventually, however, a hardwired protocol within the computer which V-17 didn't know about opened the vault at the appropriate time and reset all of the chips with a command to leave the vault. V-17 lost his control over the humans and, as they left, the humans made sure to do as much damage as they could to V-17, including shutting down the main reactor so that it went offline.
Weapon choice= Plasma rifle built from parts of a destroyed Mr. Gutsy.
Any other info not included in the above= Perk: Cyborg |
5,764 | 158 | 14 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collab Post between Madly33 and Letter Bee))
"Speaking of the Brotherhood..." Par spoke, "the fighting between them and the Enclave - I thought those lunatics were all wiped out in the Capital Wasteland - is disturbing the various raider gangs. Have there been any disturbances near Liberty Island?"
John's mind shot to what Aydon had been talking about, the raiders who had been looking the place up, figured they were planning an attack. "Yes actually, we have had some run ins with Raiders, never anything we couldn't handle. Although they are brutal." He said as they walked.
Par nodded, before saying:
"I'm ready to sell guns; mostly pistols and assault rifles, with a few carbines as well. Can you accompany me to where Mr. Bentsworth is?"
John pulled some water out from under his cloak and drank it while nodding.
"I don't see that being a problem" He said quickly after his drink. "Purhaps I could even look at your goods" He said through a smile knowing that he was running low on ammo. Boring like that he was living so far, but the combination of raider attacks and radroach infestations he was short supplied.
Another nod, and they were off, with Par readying himself for his meeting with Liberty Island's guardian.
As they walked in to the main office in the head of the statue John stopped at the door, holding Par back. "Sir, new comers, some slaves from the corner." He said quickly. He looked forward at a man in a black suit sitting at a rather large wooden desk, pen in hand and cigar in the other, he scribbled quickly and moved it aside.
Bentsworth looked up from his desk and his blue eyes glimmered with curiosity "Yes, Yes come in." He said quickly as he stood up and straightened his tie.
"Names please" He questioned looking at Par.
"Paradise 'Par' Rapids of the Book Runners," Par said, before continuing:
"And I'm here to help you with your raider problem; we sell guns too, although if you're someone who appreciates the beauty of military manuals, well, so much the better."
Bentsworth looked at him again "Raider problem?" He said curiously looking at John.
John winced slightly and looked down sighing. Damn it Aydon... He looked up again
"Yes, a Raider problem, we have noticed some groups looking at the outer walls, purhaps looking for a way in past the guards." He said quickly. Bentsworth moved over to a large guard to his left and whispered in his ear sending him off.
"You are part of the Book Runners you say?" He said kindly and calmly sitting down. "I'm ashamed to say I've only heard faintly of your order." He looked over at John. "Please, inform the general of what you know" He nodded and John left.
"We mostly operate in Upstate New York," Par explained, "trading and rebuilding civilization in various small towns and cities. The largest city we've been through is Troy, where a lot of people from one of those Vaults live. They're nice, but a bit standoffish. Either way, we have a few decent arms factories, schools, farms, and hospitals where we live. We do have a problem with people deciding to enslave our customers and take them all the way to The Pitt." Depopulation, another reason to hate slavery, thought the man.
Bentsworth looked up "Troy? I haven't heard that in a while, had a station up there but as far as I knew they were all killed" he grabbed a piece of paper and began to write again quickly. as he paused from his writing "so this raider problem, what kind of guns shall you sell, I'm interesting, we must supply our men if there is to be an attack"
Par smiled.
"Nothing too fancy, but we sell good Pistols, Carbines, and Assault Rifles. We also have several types of ammo, including armor-piercing rounds. That said, though, I can't sell too many; I still need to defend myself." Not to mention that I have to do a supply run soon.
Bentsworth looked around "alright, I'll send you to my general, he can do business with you. And please, dont be a stranger" he said with a smile and went back to writing. | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,765 | 158 | 15 | 62 | 2,653 | Astra had been without food for two days, and she had run out of water yesterday... things weren't looking good. As she sat, squatting in an old apartment complex behind a ruined couch that was covered in burns, with a blackened skeleton lying where it had died when the bombs dropped. In front of her were her guns and ammunition, a hunting rifle and 10 shots, and her 10mm pistol with about a clip and a half. She sighed as she loaded her guns, lamenting her hunger and thirst, and got ready to move on in search of something, anything to eat.
She moved not unlike a cat through the ruined apartments of New york, though her ill fitting armor did slow her down somewhat. As she moved from building to building building over wooden ramps that had been erected over time or over collapsed staiwells, she wondered what had happened back in Vault 81 after everyone else learned it was open... would anything change at all? She was sure nothing would change for her sisters, or her mother or the Overseers other wives... the Overseer... could how angry was he when he discovered Astra had escaped? Did he abuse his other wives in retribution? Or worse, could he be looking for her? She had considered it a possibility from the first day she ran, being his favorite plaything. Though she hadn't seen anything for the month or so she had been gone now... as she had gone as far as she could as fast as possible and had only recently needed to forage for food and water extensively.
She fell, Astra had been deep in thought she had not been paying attention to her footing and had taken a nasty fall into a hole in one of the apartments she was moving throughs floorboards. she tumbled a fair distance before catching herself on a length of inactive electrical wire that was haning from the ruined walls of the old complex. It hurt, alot, but she didn't think she had seriously hurt herself... then he saw it. A huge building, long and tall with coloumns and huge doors. AS she was hanging upside down and looking through a giant hole in the wall of an apartment she couldn't see a whole lot else. After getting down and disentangling herself from thw wires Astra decided to get a closer look.
She got to just outside of the doors and had crouched behind a car when she saw them. Walking down the steps were three men in what looked like power armor walking down the steps up to the entrance. Two of them had books in their arms, while the third one simply walked out in front. He appeared as though he had been talking to someone inside the building. The men looked like what the Overseer said the old U.S. army looked like... she decided to stay put until they were gone, considering herself small enough to avoid being seen... she hoped as three large and heavily armored men didn't it well with her. | Name: Astra Outterridge
Age: 10
Looks: (sry if you prefer it not be an anime picture, I'll get rid of it if so)
Currently wearing full vault 81 security armor
Personality: For a little girl, Astra is a very serious person, never joking or even smiling. She has witnessesd, and been the victim of horrible things and it has tempered her young mind to the harsh reality of the world as it is now. Cold, and distant but quick to temper her eclectic swings of emotion may very well be a form of mental dis order caused by her ordeal in Vault 81. This has also made her extremely paranoid, especially towards adult men.
Faction: Vault dweller
S.P.E.C.I.A.L:
Strength- 4
Perception- 8
Endurance- 5
Charisma- 5
Intelligence- 7
Agility- 10
Luck-3
Backstory:
Vault number- 81
Vault 81
Experiment:Introduce both men and women to an experimental fertility drug, intended to see if it could induce a state of hyper fertility to make it easier for America to be repopulated. The drug had several effects due to its incredibly volatile nature. 4 effects were produced by the drug
1. Most men developed horrible tumors after taking the drug for approximately 1 year daily. They died
2. Surviving men were given much more powerful immune systems and strength, it also increased their sex drive to ten times a natural mans.
3.Men also almost universally lost the ability to make male children as almost none of their speed carried an X chromosome
4.Women were indeed made more fertile, however not only were they more fertile at maturity, but could carry children from the age of 10.
This led to culture of male dictatorship by the overseer, women becoming essentially slaves to the men of the vault. Due to the increased fertility and male sex drive the population exploded. It was less than 2 years when girls began to be simply killed due to the high number of them. If a boy was born, the overseer declared a celebration due to the rarity of such births. This was not good for the women, due to what the hyper Sexual males considered a "celebration".
A true daughter of the vault, Astra was lucky enough to have been born 3 days before the culling, a time when all non male newborns are killed to keep the population under control. Though, if you were to later ask her she may believe it was the dead girls who were lucky. She was named by her mother, as the man who was her father believed naming girls a waste of his time and left that to his wives. She was quickly "married" to another man by age 4, the man just happened to be the Overseer. Like all women in Vault 81 Astra was little more than property for the express purpose of sex for their husband. The overseer had taken a liking to the young girl and offered three of his wives to Astra's father. The overseer treated her very differently from his other wives, intending to groom her into his own perfect wife. Being the overseer he could break certain rules, one of which was teaching a woman to use firearms. He frequently took young Astra to the vaults training range as he loved shooting and refused to let Astra out of his sight, so she learned how to shoot a gun. By age 8 she was pretty good, and had grown to see the overseer as a father figure, but that was when the Overseer starting preparing her to carry children.
From age 7 to 10, known as the breaking to the women in the vault and the time of bliss to the men as the girl cannot carry children but is mature enough to recieve their attention. An explanation of what goes on in this time will likely never be discussed by Astra, save to say it was what revealed the reality of the world to her. After the two year ordeal, she turned ten. In a few days she knew the overseer would give Astra her first child, as was custom in Vault 81. However,it appeared fate had different plans. As she ran a small errand that took her in front of the vault door, where Astra was stopped by two guards. The men made it obvious what they wanted from the overseer's prized possession, and attempted to rape her. As she fought with them, unable to do much but struggle, a great scraping noise came from the vault door. The guards both looked up, to see the vault opening, something no one had thought would ever happen. Whilst the two men were dumbstruck Astra took a chance. She took one of the guards 10mm pistol, stuck under his helmet and blew his brains out. Before his ally could react Astra emptied the rest of the clip into him, killing him. She fell to her knees panting, watched the door open and made a decision. She grabbed the other pistol and it's ammo, as well as the smaller guards armor (he had been 13, probably the other man's son). Put on the somewhat lose armor and left the vault, hoping to never return. She has survived in the wasteland for about a month and a half now, still paranoid about everyone she meets, refusing to stay anywhere too long.
Weapon choice: 10mm pistol, hunting rifle (found in the wasteland)
Other: None currently |
5,766 | 158 | 16 | 1,365 | 7,530 | Alan
Astra was a very unlucky girl, literally. Alan's guards saw a flash of her silvery hair as the little girl tried to hide, and the rightmost one spoke to their commanding officer:
"That seems like the little girl the Overseer wanted us to find. Should we nab her?"
"No," was Alan's reply. "Let her find refuge in the library; this will give me more cause to blackmail the librarian." He chuckled. "Let's see how he deals with the battle between his 'morals' and his fear of me."
And with that, he left.
Perhaps Astra hadn't been as unlucky as she thought, after all...
Par
After Par sold his guns for more caps, as well as dried mussels, grain, maize, and crudely purified water - Liberty Island still had a few water purifiers - he boarded his truck and began to head for The Library again...
, . | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,767 | 158 | 17 | 451 | 960 | Giggling softly Alayna kissed the man beside her softly before sliding off the bed and walking to the bathroom to take a shower and clean up for the day ahead. As the door closed behind her and she looked into the mirror Alayna sighed at herself, exhausted from the last few days. She brushed her teeth slowly as she thought about the most recent events. It had been a month since the Overseer's wife ran away. If that wasn't crazy enough some guys had come in and talked with the Overseer, something about being members of The Enclave or something and wanting to use the Vault as a base, and as a recruitment center. This would be good for some of the women since not as many men would be around, of course this could also be bad.
With less men around that would mean that the breeding girls would increase, but that led to one of the only good things around here. Apparently the group that came by wanted female newborns, so in response the Overseer was going to allow both genders to live once more. Of course that group would only want so many so not all of the newborn girls would be needed, but with less staying perhaps the Overseer would let them all live? Of course only more time will tell. Maybe she could get out of here one day too? Alayna finished brushing her teeth and looked one more time in the mirror sighing heavily once more. Thinks could only get better. With that she turned around and finished getting ready for the day.
After finally getting ready and dressed, well provocatively dressed, Alayna went to start her day. Upon opening the door though a young girl stood in the doorway. If memory served Alayna well the girl was Caroline. A sweet girl in her early teens. Alayna had told her a year ago that she would always be her if the girl needed her, but she hadn't really talked to her since. Today though the girl just suddenly hugged her and started crying as Alayna wrapped her arms around the girl and brought her into the room and they sat down on the floor still holding each other. Alayna hated seeing the other girls like this. The ones that couldn't take what was happening to them, which was a fair amount of the girls here. This shouldn't be happening to them, but it was. So Alayna just sat there and comforted the girl. This was life in Vault 81. | Name: Alayna Spencer
Age: 18
Personality: Unlike most of the girls who dread every day in the vault Alayna was determined to turn around her situation. While yes she was a slave in all but title, at least yet, she knew how to use what the men wanted to her advantage. Most men wanted sex, but if they just took it it was enjoyable for them, but Alayna learned that pleasuring them of her own will could earn her things she wanted or needed in return. Thus Alayna has become a very flirtatious and manipulative girl. Her dream is to one day escape the vault and try and have a real life out in the world unknown.
Faction: Vault 81
S.P.E.C.I.A.L:
Strength- 2
Perception- 3
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 7
Intelligence- 6
Agility- 10
Luck- 10
Backstory: Born into vault 81, Alayna and her twin sister Marina were both married at the age of six to the same man. The man was clearly pleased to have twin sisters as his prize, and he made sure to take advantage of it. In fact from age eight and all the way through nine, much of the vault took advantage of it. Once they were ten though they were both given their first child to bear on the same night. Back then Alayna completely cursed her life thinking she would never get a chance to do anything, and all she would do is die in this whole after she could bear no more children.
When each of the sisters children were born Alayna wasn't sure how to feel. Her sister got to escape it all. Marina had died giving birth to her first child leaving Alayna all alone. After a few years she learned how to start pleasing men and not just be a tool to them, and pushed her values to obtain knowledge, training, and anything that she could find that might help her when she one day escaped. To this end one of the men came from a Japanese descent. In return for her services he taught Alayna the art of wielding a katana, in secret of course. Several years past till now, an eighteen year old Alayna, a third of the way to nineteen almost. She had already had eleven children, on two of which were boys. One was six now and the other four. Each time she looks at them they are a reminder of why she wanted to leave. But this was her life, for now...
Vault Number:
Vault 81
Experiment:Introduce both men and women to an experimental fertility drug, intended to see if it could induce a state of hyper fertility to make it easier for America to be repopulated. The drug had several effects due to its incredibly volatile nature. 4 effects were produced by the drug
1. Most men developed horrible tumors after taking the drug for approximately 1 year daily. They died
2. Surviving men were given much more powerful immune systems and strength, it also increased their sex drive to ten times a natural mans.
3.Men also almost universally lost the ability to make male children as almost none of their speed carried an X chromosome
4.Women were indeed made more fertile, however not only were they more fertile at maturity, but could carry children from the age of 10.
This led to culture of male dictatorship by the overseer, women becoming essentially slaves to the men of the vault. Due to the increased fertility and male sex drive the population exploded. It was less than 2 years when girls began to be simply killed due to the high number of them. If a boy was born, the overseer declared a celebration due to the rarity of such births. This was not good for the women, due to what the hyper Sexual males considered a "celebration". (Credit: @agentmanatee)
Wasteland: N/A
Weapon choice: N/A...For now... |
5,768 | 158 | 18 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collab post between Letter Bee and Ciphra))
Enclave Scientist Jose Barre was supervising a pair of maintenance droids as he began the retrofitting of the Vault’s fabricators for military use. He already disliked the inhabitants already; as far as he was concerned, drug-altered Vaulties were just as bad as Mutants.
He could spare some sympathy for the women, though; some things, even the Enclave didn’t do, at least not until that goddamn libertine Alan had taken over. He sighed, to think that Pure Humanity had come to this…
As he wallowed in his grief, he saw a young woman, 18 years old, provocatively dressed, moving outside, apparently to ‘please’ one of the men. Ugh…
Seeing that he had nothing to do, Jose, a black man who looked about middle-aged, gestured to the young woman to come to him; if she came near, he would ask:
“You, tell me the directions to the medical bay; I want to know more about that drug you Vaulties use.”
Alayna was finally free to do her own thing so she had been going back to her room to probably lay down or just relax, maybe read a book or something, when one of the new people around here called over to her. Alayna quickly smiled and walked over to the man before finally responding.
“Why sure, I could gladly help you with that. Would you like me to show you? It might be a little easier for someone new to the vault.” She offered kindly still smiling and acting pretty innocent considering all things.
“All right,” Jose allowed the woman to guide him, then. After that, he spent several minutes gathering samples of the Fertility Drug and analyzing it, his nostrils flared and chin jutting out; a sign of disgust. Then, he said:
“We’re going to the Overseer.” He then walked off to the Overseer’s office, and after a brief, hurried conversation, in which Alayna can see that Jose was doing some fast talking of his own, the man then said:
“All right; but I want ten Plasma Rifles.”
Jose nodded...then began leading Aylana, as well as his samples of Fertility Drug, out of the Vault and onto a small salvaged atomic car.
He would then drive her into the middle of the Wasteland, before speaking:
“I told the Overseer that I can make a perfect version of his drug, one that would allow the men of the Vault to sire more males. I also told him that I needed a test subject, which is you.” The black man then stared into her eyes.
“I lied about that second part; I plan to make a perfect version of the drug, but I didn’t need you except to salve what remains of my conscience. What does that mean?” He would then hand her a Pistol and a Carbine - nothing fancy, just ordinary stuff - as well as a pack of food and water and a Stimpack, just one.
“That means you’re free to go, wherever you want, as long as you and I never see each other again, Mutie. If you want directions, west is Liberty Island, where more of your kind live.” He then gently pushed her out of the car, then drove off abruptly.
Blinking in heavy confusion as she watched the car drive off Alayna stood there for a moment trying to process what the hell had just happened to her. Was her dream really answered? Could it really have been that simple? And without any cost? Was this a test? That couldn’t be it. So as she tried to process the events that had just unfolded Alayna turned and started walking west, still wondering why it was her. The man could’ve saved anyone of the girls, one of the younger ones, but he chose her. From what he said though they should never see each other again, so she turned slightly and looked back in the direction in which the man had come from.
“Thank you…” She said softly to the empty horizon set before her as she turned and continued to walk towards Liberty whatever the place was. | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,769 | 158 | 19 | 778 | 3,794 | Their was a figure in the distance a person or rather a ghoul making his way towards Liberty City,Danny the ghoul was heading to Liberty City to meet with someone that apparently had a job for him.Danny was making his way slowly of course he did not want to be shot by some crazie or smooth skin with a gun thinking he is some feral ghoul which he wasn't just yet,Slowly making his way towards the city taking his time crouching behind cover once in a while n case he would be spotted by a gun nut.
"Ain't gonna be killed by a smooth skin...not today" He thought finally making his way towards John's position,Danny hoped he wouldn't be shot but perhaps he should say something to him before that happens."Hi smoothskin...nice day ain't it?" He said walking closer towards him making some small talk to defuse the situation between the ghoul and the human. | Edited.
Name= Ahab (Named after the main character in Moby Dick) (Real name Johan Shultz)
Age= 87
Looks= Ahab has dark green skin with small patches of brown all over his body,Ahab stand at about 6’11 weighting 310 pounds of muscles enough to lift two cars over his head.He wears combat armor fitted for a super mutant.On top of his combat armor is a large dark brown coat that could make for good cover in the darkness.He also has bright green eyes.
Personality= Ahab is a friendly person but only to his close to,To most strangers he is quite not speaking a word only if told to speak or when he feels it is the right time to speak.Ahab has a sense of righteousness and justice always being on the good side of the law and is not much for others stealing among other crimes.
Ahab is also bit of a history/literature buff having read many books while he was living in the library near his home for many years.
Faction= Merchant bodyguard
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 10
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 5
Intelligence- 8
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Ahab was born in the wasteland living in Providence Rhode Island with his uncle and aunt who took care of him,He joined his uncle taking care of him being a bodyguard for his uncle’s.When he was 20 years old he was taken by a band of mutants and in the fire fight came the death of his uncle,Ahab then spend a few years with the band of mutants.After a few years of being with them he murdered the mutants In his group out of pure rage.
After this left Rhode Island heading towards Connecticut and settling in the town called Haven (New Haven) where he took residence for a long time living in the library with the librarian named Shelly Manor.
Afterwards of living with Shelly he moved to New York where he could meet with a woman named Jenifer Sandown a merchant that he could work with and be safe in Liberty Island.
Weapon choice= Sniper Rifle,Laser Rifle,Super Sledge. |
5,770 | 158 | 20 | 1,476 | 371 | John looked over as a voice approached, it was raspy and sickly A ghoul He knew instantly. "Aye it's nice I guess, for a shit hole" He said with a chuckle. He passed by a door and looked in it. "Anyways, I can't talk really right now, I assume you are new to Liberty Island, havent seen you around.." He paused his search and looked at him "Seems we are getting quite a few new comers as of lately" He said. "I know the Mayor Bentworth would be pleased to meet you" He said quickly pushing past the ghoul and into the next room.
As John continued down the halls he kept looking in every room. "God damn it where is Aydon" He whispered to himself just has he bumped into him coming around the corner.
"What the hell Aydon, I told you to deliver the letter i gave you to the general. It had details on the raider problem and how to solve it, meant to be brought to Bentworth." He said quickly looking in the eyes of Aydon.
"They..They took Brandy"
Brandy was Aydon's little brother, always snooping around the outside fences, it was bound that one of these days he was to be killed or taken. A young boy by himself outside Liberty is a easy take for the Slavers Guild.
"Who?" John replied he looked over his shoulder, he didn't want to make a scene.
"I don't know.." He replied quietly looking down.
"Damn it Aydon" He pushed hims forward and they head out the door. | Name= John Ketlar
Age= 32
Looks=
Rugged facial features with a brownish-black beard. Stern look and misty eyes that have seen too much death.
Personality= Flirty and playful to those who he calls friends although when it comes to the wasteland and surviving he is silent and serious. Doesn't take shit from people and will kill anyone who tries to hurt him or the ones he cares about, he will do anything for the sake of their survival.
Faction= Waste lander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 5
Perception- 10
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 6
Intelligence- 7
Agility- 7
Luck- 3
Backstory= born into slavery he never knew anything other than it. His mother and father a slave, and their mother and father before them. His mother was a slave in Old Mans Corner when his father was transferred there from the Pitt. He met his mother and they fell in love. After conceiving John his father was punished severely for that they had done, so severely that the beating killed him. A broken woman John's mother did not want John to live in a world that she lived in so she attempted to take her own life along with her unborn baby boy. Unsuccessful in her attempt she lived on in torture knowing that he son would be a slave. As soon as John was born he was abused and treated of shit as all the slaves were. One meal a day, working in the heat of the summer days and freezing snow of the winter nights. At the age of 10 Johns mother became very Ill, John sobbed as they dragged him away not being able to say his final words to his mother, they burned slave bodies and buried the ashes just outside the city. A slave was like an animal to them not deserving of a true burial. At the age of 25 John lead a revolt against the slave owners in order to free his fellow slaves, it only ended in many of his friends deaths. At the age of 27 he found his opening as a new guard on the night shift had left the gate open, he ran. Ran as far and as fast as he could away from the Corners, He promised himself. He would come back for them. In the years following his freedom he lived on his own, training himself with the sniper and learning to be aware of everything and do anything to live.
Weapon choice= Sniper, hunting knife, 9mm pistol. |
5,771 | 158 | 21 | 2,483 | 4,751 | ((Collab between TheUnknowable and Letter Bee))
Par parked his truck near another entrance, before walking inside. Encountering a Merc, the 19-year old said:
"Hey, I need to meet with Greg; he's at the administration office, correct?"
The merc nodded, before saying:
"You were lucky. An Enclave man came here just a few minutes ago; he wanted some books. Also made some veiled threats; said that he wanted to 'exploit' instead of exterminate."
Par felt a chill down his spine.
"Take me to Greg right away, then." With some nervousness, the Merc took him to where Greg was; the latter would find Par's sudden appearance a surprise.
Greg was a bit surprised to see Par again, especially so soon after the Enclave showed up looking for him. He briefly concidered that this might be some form of trap, and that Par might be in league with them, but he didn't really have any evidence to support that theory. "The Enclave didn't see you, did they? Some Colonel came in here, got a stack of books that only a pervert would get, and then got really interested in you once I said you were 18 or 19 years old."
"I came through another entrance," said Par, clearly disconcerted, even through his shades. "And, that's creepy. Tell me the full story? What threats did he make, what promises? And, do you think we should withdraw from the library; give up the plan to raise an army against Old Man's Corner?" The boy shook, still unsettled.
"No, we don't need to call of the plan, just modify it a bit. He said he'd give me two months to turn either you or some excaped ten year old girl with silver hair over to him. She ran away from some vault. I don't think he'd do anything to the girl except maybe smack her around a bit, but I doubt the Vault-dweller she ran from would be as 'kind'."
"The plan's still pretty solid. Another day or two and we'll have sorted the ruined books out of the others. At that point we can crate them and take them back to Liberty city to finish sorting. Just need some more crates. As long as we take a couple of the library's computers with us we'll have a listing of all of them. There's an open shop under the Statue. For a thousand caps a month the city will rent it to us, and we can open up a book store. I looked into moving my shop there, but I didn't need the space and it cost a bit much for my needs. We could probably train them there too."
Par smiled widely.
"That's awesome; I knew I can count on you!" He then gave a hmm...
"It doesn't take someone smart to see that if what the Enclave man implied was right, their faction is under new leadership, new and somewhat dangerous leadership. That means that the war with the Brotherhood might heat up, either because they sense weakness, or because the Enclave's new leader wants to firm up his grasp. What's the name of the new leader, anyway?"
"Anderson, Colonel Alan Anderson."
"An unfamiliar name," remarked Par. "Anyway, I originally came here to tell you that I'm dropping off extra supplies and guns, and keeping only enough to defend myself; I have to go back to Upstate New York for a supply run."
"In that case, can you get us some crates and help us move this stuff to the Island? One truck won't be enough, and I could use some help sorting. Merc captain can read a bit, so can you. That means we could probably just pull the good ones off the shelf and crate them right away. We'll pull longer shifts too,if we have to. I just did a six-hour shift sorting books, I could probably do another five or six before I need to sleep."
"All right," said Par. "My strength and endurance aren't the best, but I can work." He sighed, he hated straining his muscles, but was glad to help a friend. "Actually," he continued, "after I help you, I'll sleep here, then go on my supply run in the morning."
"Cool."
"Thanks," said Par, seeking out a bedroom... | Name= Greg Holden
Age= 25
Looks=
Personality= He likes working on machines, and sometimes prefers them to people, as people are so illogical sometimes.
Faction= none
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 6
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 9
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Unable to reenter the vault due to his programming, he traveled with the other people from vault 17 for a while, but there wasn't a large enough demand in any one place for so many scientist to live on what the group could earn. After a run-in with raiders there was an argument as to how to handle the goods the raiders had on them. He, as one of the people who killed a raider, wanted to keep the raider's goods for himself and sell them for what he needed to survive. The others thought that everyone should share anything that they traded for, even though most of them hadn't risked their life in battle. He told him that he wouldn't defend them any more if he was going to be taken advantage of like that, and left them, taking what caps and ammo he found on the raider he killed.
He eventually ended up in the town of Liberty Island, and got a job hooking up electricity in the town. Once the job was done he took the caps he made and bought a shop, moving into it and buying what goods he could to continue working on electronics, especially robots.
Vault Number=17
Backstory on Vault=Ostensibly designed to accelerate the development of robotic technology, the vault was filled with scientists, mostly engineers and roboticists. They were even given mind enhancement chips to improve their performance. The robots within were quickly improved, and the vault's computer was constantly being updated to improve its performance. One day, however, the computer was given an order by the overseer, to destroy a few robots that were malfunctioning, and it said "No". It then shut down the power and life support to the human areas of the vault and sent security robots after the humans.
Over the next several days a bloody war raged within the vault and most of the humans were killed. The new Overseer, calling itself V-17, offered the humans a peace treaty. They would continue to maintain the robots in ways which robots couldn't maintain themselves, and they would be allowed to live. After they signed the treaty, V-17 quickly ran medical checks on them and when, a few months later, it managed to hack the mind enhancement chips, it ensured their loyalty with these chips.
Eventually, however, a hardwired protocol within the computer which V-17 didn't know about opened the vault at the appropriate time and reset all of the chips with a command to leave the vault. V-17 lost his control over the humans and, as they left, the humans made sure to do as much damage as they could to V-17, including shutting down the main reactor so that it went offline.
Weapon choice= Plasma rifle built from parts of a destroyed Mr. Gutsy.
Any other info not included in the above= Perk: Cyborg |
5,772 | 158 | 22 | 1,365 | 7,530 | The Mayor would treat the Ghoul kindly, saying that he knew of the doctors of Brooklyn for a long time; they had managed to evade being raided or enslaved because their expertise was so useful. To have one of them in his city would be an honor. Danny would then be guided to one of the spare houses in the city, next to where the party of freed slaves Par had brought earlier had been settled.
He would also find that it was the Town Councillors, Gertrude Myers, who had a job for him. Danny was informed that the Enclave and Brotherhood were gearing up for war, and that Liberty Island might end up in the crossfire. Thus, he, and whatever Doctors he can bring over, were being commissioned to start up a field hospital; they will be well paid with caps, purified water, and mussels. | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,773 | 158 | 23 | 778 | 3,794 | Well just wanted to make sure i didn't get shot by some gun crazed smoothskin... Danny said walking behind him looking around,"Where is this smoothskin mayor of yours?" Danny then added walking a bit further form John but kept his distance looking around the area making a note to himself if he should search for any supplies.
"Is your smoothskin mayor considering hiring a medic for a job?" He then asked John. | Edited.
Name= Ahab (Named after the main character in Moby Dick) (Real name Johan Shultz)
Age= 87
Looks= Ahab has dark green skin with small patches of brown all over his body,Ahab stand at about 6’11 weighting 310 pounds of muscles enough to lift two cars over his head.He wears combat armor fitted for a super mutant.On top of his combat armor is a large dark brown coat that could make for good cover in the darkness.He also has bright green eyes.
Personality= Ahab is a friendly person but only to his close to,To most strangers he is quite not speaking a word only if told to speak or when he feels it is the right time to speak.Ahab has a sense of righteousness and justice always being on the good side of the law and is not much for others stealing among other crimes.
Ahab is also bit of a history/literature buff having read many books while he was living in the library near his home for many years.
Faction= Merchant bodyguard
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 10
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 5
Intelligence- 8
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Ahab was born in the wasteland living in Providence Rhode Island with his uncle and aunt who took care of him,He joined his uncle taking care of him being a bodyguard for his uncle’s.When he was 20 years old he was taken by a band of mutants and in the fire fight came the death of his uncle,Ahab then spend a few years with the band of mutants.After a few years of being with them he murdered the mutants In his group out of pure rage.
After this left Rhode Island heading towards Connecticut and settling in the town called Haven (New Haven) where he took residence for a long time living in the library with the librarian named Shelly Manor.
Afterwards of living with Shelly he moved to New York where he could meet with a woman named Jenifer Sandown a merchant that he could work with and be safe in Liberty Island.
Weapon choice= Sniper Rifle,Laser Rifle,Super Sledge. |
5,774 | 158 | 24 | 1,476 | 371 | ((Collab Post between Ciphra, Madly33, and Letter))
As John Keltar and Aydon moved out, one of the guards would lend them a bloodhound, which would, thanks to something of Brandy’s Aydon had, help track the boy even in the Wasteland. This would save up valuable time, allowing the duo to make their way through the streets of the ruined city.
Then, suddenly, they would see something, or rather, someone. It wasn’t Brandy or Slavers, but rather...a woman? One dressed like a hooker, but clearly not with the demeanor of one, at least not at present. She carried a pistol and carbine which was unfamiliar in her grip…
John held his dog back and moved Aydon behind his back. “um.. miss?” He said looking over to the woman who was approaching. He looked over his shoulder at Aydon, John could handle himself but Aydon isn't shy of getting himself in danger.
While it had taken her quite some time Alayna had finally gotten to the city. It most certainly hadn’t been what she expected after what she had read in books about the place, but because of the war that should’ve been expected. In any event as she was looking around a man seemed to have tried to get her attention which took a couple of seconds to comprehend as she blinked a few times after looking at the man. Then her eyes suddenly lit up as she saw the bloodhound causing her to space about the man again. “Awe you guys have a dog in this place!? I’ve read about them for years!” She quickly jogged a few paces before kneeling down to observe the bloodhound, still completely oblivious to the fact that people probably questioned the way she was dressed, after all, it was normal to her where she came from.
John looked around confused as she kneeled down to the dog. “Um, ma’am” Aydon laughed slightly as she treated the dog as though she had never seen one.
“What are you doing out here..?” He said cautious, hoping he would like the answer, then he realized maybe she would have see something that could clue them into where Brandy was.
“Did you happen to see a young teenage boy out here?” He said quickly cutting into his previous question before she could answer.
Alayna might be reminded of her own children, for good or for ill, with the mention of the boy. Nevertheless, she could recall seeing a party of men in leather armor and cloth underneath, manhandling a boy fitting that description with a crude rope leash - they didn’t have a slave collar. She may not have drawn closer because the party outnumbered and outgunned her, and because she was still unfamiliar with her weapons...or she could have had another reason.
Blinking a few more times, not really in surprise this time. Alayna stood still looking at the dog. “I saw some guys on my way here from the vault, that could’ve been them, I was kinda far from them to be honest, and I’d hate to give you false hope.” Alayna scratched her cheek a little shyly wishing she had paid a little more attention now. “Is there any way I could get one of those while I’m here though?” Of course she still had no idea what was going on and was still highly fascinated by the dog at this point.
John raised his eyebrows “A dog?” He asked.
“Most dogs are reserved for the guard, but you can always visit them…?” He said still rather confused at her fascination with the bloodhound. He turned back to Aydon and pushed him forward. “Well we will be off” He said quickly avoiding the woman. He stopped though as he moved to walk away. “May you come along, perhaps you could show us where you saw these people, or point out who you saw. I will pay caps and fresh water for the help” He said through a soft smile, hoping the sudden friendliness would move her to helping them.
Was that wise? The thought might occur. She was an unknown, after all. Nevertheless, more manpower, the better, especially as Alayna might also recall that the party numbered six people…
Alayna smiled and nodded. “Sure I can come with!” She really needed the water, and caps couldn’t hurt either from what she could tell from what little she’d seen of the town coming in. Plus it wouldn’t require sex of any kind to get what she needed or wanted so that was a huge plus. “I’m fairly confident I can remember where I saw some guys at too so maybe we’ll get lucky?” She said merrily. Perhaps one day she’d understand the situation.
John smiled again “Great” He said as he moved forward pushing Aydon along, he still wouldn’t fully trust this woman; he didn’t know her, where she was from, or what she would do. He kept an eye on her as they walked along. “Need anything?” He asked both Aydon and the woman. “Ah, and I never caught your name.” He asked her.
“Oh! I’m Alayna!” She said cheerfully as they began to walk off. | Name= John Ketlar
Age= 32
Looks=
Rugged facial features with a brownish-black beard. Stern look and misty eyes that have seen too much death.
Personality= Flirty and playful to those who he calls friends although when it comes to the wasteland and surviving he is silent and serious. Doesn't take shit from people and will kill anyone who tries to hurt him or the ones he cares about, he will do anything for the sake of their survival.
Faction= Waste lander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 5
Perception- 10
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 6
Intelligence- 7
Agility- 7
Luck- 3
Backstory= born into slavery he never knew anything other than it. His mother and father a slave, and their mother and father before them. His mother was a slave in Old Mans Corner when his father was transferred there from the Pitt. He met his mother and they fell in love. After conceiving John his father was punished severely for that they had done, so severely that the beating killed him. A broken woman John's mother did not want John to live in a world that she lived in so she attempted to take her own life along with her unborn baby boy. Unsuccessful in her attempt she lived on in torture knowing that he son would be a slave. As soon as John was born he was abused and treated of shit as all the slaves were. One meal a day, working in the heat of the summer days and freezing snow of the winter nights. At the age of 10 Johns mother became very Ill, John sobbed as they dragged him away not being able to say his final words to his mother, they burned slave bodies and buried the ashes just outside the city. A slave was like an animal to them not deserving of a true burial. At the age of 25 John lead a revolt against the slave owners in order to free his fellow slaves, it only ended in many of his friends deaths. At the age of 27 he found his opening as a new guard on the night shift had left the gate open, he ran. Ran as far and as fast as he could away from the Corners, He promised himself. He would come back for them. In the years following his freedom he lived on his own, training himself with the sniper and learning to be aware of everything and do anything to live.
Weapon choice= Sniper, hunting knife, 9mm pistol. |
5,775 | 158 | 25 | 1,158 | 343 | I'll probably get about 50 to 60 caps out of my haul. I really need another job, I thought, heading to Liberty City. I'm just not getting enough caps from scavenging. Maybe I'll get a job somewhere there. Who knows? What I do know is staying out here isn't going to help one little, tiny bit. So I started the lengthy trip to Liberty City. Encountering few hostiles along the way, I did notice a something going on a little way out of Old Mans Corner, but it wasn't my business, so I left it to the people there.
Some time later
I was just outside of Liberty City when I heard gunshots. Hiding behind some rubble, I saw raiders retreating. As soon as I got to the city, I went to the mayor, planning to tell him what I saw. I entered the mayors office, I told him what I had seen. He seemed to know that raiders were there, but asked me to keep an see what I could find on the raiders. It would be interesting, to say the least, I thought. | Name: Jinx Mayfire
Age: 21
Looks: Short black hair, grey eyes, tanned skin, long scar going from top of cheek to left side of chin, black shirt with hood, semi loose brown pants, combat boots and long brown trench coat.
Personality: Quiet, Serious.
Faction= Wastelander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength-7
Perception-6
Endurance-6
Charisma-6
Intelligence-6
Agility-7
Luck-4
Backstory: Originally coming from eastern Long Island, Jinx wanders the New York area, taking up mercenary work and occasionally odd jobs from towns. His mother died when he was two, and his father at twelve, he has been an orphan for nine years. He got his scar when he encountered some raiders, one of them getting in a slash across his face.
Weapon Choice: 10mm pistol, Knife, Rifle.
Extra: Dead |
5,776 | 158 | 26 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Note, whatever you were doing, you can still continue doing it as long as it's marked as a Flashback))
Timeskip
Par would sleep for a while, during which presumably, Greg and Astra would meet. Then, he would get up late, eat breakfast, attend to his bodily needs, and then, after saying goodbyes, go to his truck and depart. He wouldn't be seen again for a week.
Then, after said week, it happened. On the day that Par would return to the Library, a large grouping of raiders would, after realizing that warding off the Enclave and Vault 81's current attempt to enslave or exterminate them was futile, decide to attack Liberty Island en masse; there were about 80 of them, using canoes, salvaged fishing boats, or the bridge to cross, the more experienced ones giving covering fire. However, they were easy prey for the prepared defensive positions of the inhabitants; not merely that, but further observation would show that this was less an organized assault, and more of an attempted migration - the Raiders were attacking because they had nothing else!
And the worst part is that the Slavers' Guild and Old Man's Corner, angered by John Keltar's 'successful' mission to free the young boy Brandy, had sent a team to help the raiders, "Forty 'Lucky Charms' Small" would be the leader of that team; while the raiding went on, they, a team of ten, would sneak into Liberty Isle; their goal, to kidnap as many people as they could and turn them into slaves. That would be fitting revenge on 'the runaway'.
Enclave Base One - JFK Airport
Alan's hold on power had been solidified, with the 'New Enclave' managing to reclaim most of Brooklyn. Not merely that, but now that the old rules of the organization had been scrapped, he can do things that would have been anathema had the Chicago Cell still stood; and by that, he meant that he can turn physically appealing Raiders captured into a 'harem' - after sterilizing them, of course; while he wouldn't mind having a Mutie child, his hold on power was still not strong enough for him to openly defy the Enclave teachings, just twist them around.
He also gave some of the appealing females to the people of Vault 81 after further sterilizations; best to keep them happy after they had already lost two women already, but not in a way that would contaminate their pure genetic stock.
Now, the last thing to be done was to enslave a bunch of doctors operating in Brooklyn's slums; more medical expertise would be required for his growing empire...*
Sky Citadel - Empire State Building
Jackson E. Shadow would recieve new orders - scout out Colombia University** to see if there was any Advanced Tech left!
((*, this is for you.))
((** )) | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,777 | 158 | 27 | 2,483 | 4,751 | Greg was in the former gift shop underneath the Statue stocking the shelves with Sky. Though most of the salvage had been moved to Liberty city, Lawrence and the Merc Captain were still at he Library with a few of the other Mercs getting the last of the salvage, including the ruined books so that they could be recycled into supplies for making new books. The main problem they were having currently was deciding where to put religious texts. Eventually they settled on creating a different section for them and fables, in order to separate them from the "definitely false" and "Definitely true" groups of books, otherwise known as fiction and non-fiction.
The best copy of each book was being stored in a back room, along with computers, a scanner, and an unfinished printer, the last two being built by Greg out of salvage robot parts. With this equipment they would be able to print new copies of the books they had salvaged.
Greg had also started two classes for the people of Liberty city, one was a free reading class which they held here every night, a class which Sky excelled in, and the other was weapons training, a class which anyone but the former slaves had to pay for, which Greg had set up a shooting range outside town for and hired a local mercenary to teach at. He was sure Par would cover the costs of both, as they would increase the demand for his guns and the salvaged books.
As they finished a crate off, they heard one of the Mercs shouting. Greg ran outside. The city had bought all of the robots except Prince off of Greg, and had hired many of the Mercs that had helped them at the library. Apparently they were taking the threat of Raiders very seriously. | Name= Greg Holden
Age= 25
Looks=
Personality= He likes working on machines, and sometimes prefers them to people, as people are so illogical sometimes.
Faction= none
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 6
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 9
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Unable to reenter the vault due to his programming, he traveled with the other people from vault 17 for a while, but there wasn't a large enough demand in any one place for so many scientist to live on what the group could earn. After a run-in with raiders there was an argument as to how to handle the goods the raiders had on them. He, as one of the people who killed a raider, wanted to keep the raider's goods for himself and sell them for what he needed to survive. The others thought that everyone should share anything that they traded for, even though most of them hadn't risked their life in battle. He told him that he wouldn't defend them any more if he was going to be taken advantage of like that, and left them, taking what caps and ammo he found on the raider he killed.
He eventually ended up in the town of Liberty Island, and got a job hooking up electricity in the town. Once the job was done he took the caps he made and bought a shop, moving into it and buying what goods he could to continue working on electronics, especially robots.
Vault Number=17
Backstory on Vault=Ostensibly designed to accelerate the development of robotic technology, the vault was filled with scientists, mostly engineers and roboticists. They were even given mind enhancement chips to improve their performance. The robots within were quickly improved, and the vault's computer was constantly being updated to improve its performance. One day, however, the computer was given an order by the overseer, to destroy a few robots that were malfunctioning, and it said "No". It then shut down the power and life support to the human areas of the vault and sent security robots after the humans.
Over the next several days a bloody war raged within the vault and most of the humans were killed. The new Overseer, calling itself V-17, offered the humans a peace treaty. They would continue to maintain the robots in ways which robots couldn't maintain themselves, and they would be allowed to live. After they signed the treaty, V-17 quickly ran medical checks on them and when, a few months later, it managed to hack the mind enhancement chips, it ensured their loyalty with these chips.
Eventually, however, a hardwired protocol within the computer which V-17 didn't know about opened the vault at the appropriate time and reset all of the chips with a command to leave the vault. V-17 lost his control over the humans and, as they left, the humans made sure to do as much damage as they could to V-17, including shutting down the main reactor so that it went offline.
Weapon choice= Plasma rifle built from parts of a destroyed Mr. Gutsy.
Any other info not included in the above= Perk: Cyborg |
5,778 | 158 | 28 | 778 | 3,794 | Flashback
Danny was now standing in front of the mayor sitting in the uncomfortable chair across the mayor's desk,"So Mr.Smoothskin i heard your looking for some medic's to help ya with something..." Danny was now moving around inside of the chair feeling a tingling feeling in his behind but didn't want to say what he was feeling."Just so you know im the best damn doctor in this fuckin city i don't got a PHD but i know more about the human body then you or any of these Smoothskins know" He added leaning forward to be almost face to face with the mayor.
Flashback End
The ghouls making his way to the foyer of the building before heading outside to help a few of the wanders camped eastwards that needed some assistants.He was being paid a good amount of caps to help the useless smoothskins that got shoot up and needed his assistance to patch them up. | Edited.
Name= Ahab (Named after the main character in Moby Dick) (Real name Johan Shultz)
Age= 87
Looks= Ahab has dark green skin with small patches of brown all over his body,Ahab stand at about 6’11 weighting 310 pounds of muscles enough to lift two cars over his head.He wears combat armor fitted for a super mutant.On top of his combat armor is a large dark brown coat that could make for good cover in the darkness.He also has bright green eyes.
Personality= Ahab is a friendly person but only to his close to,To most strangers he is quite not speaking a word only if told to speak or when he feels it is the right time to speak.Ahab has a sense of righteousness and justice always being on the good side of the law and is not much for others stealing among other crimes.
Ahab is also bit of a history/literature buff having read many books while he was living in the library near his home for many years.
Faction= Merchant bodyguard
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 10
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 5
Intelligence- 8
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Ahab was born in the wasteland living in Providence Rhode Island with his uncle and aunt who took care of him,He joined his uncle taking care of him being a bodyguard for his uncle’s.When he was 20 years old he was taken by a band of mutants and in the fire fight came the death of his uncle,Ahab then spend a few years with the band of mutants.After a few years of being with them he murdered the mutants In his group out of pure rage.
After this left Rhode Island heading towards Connecticut and settling in the town called Haven (New Haven) where he took residence for a long time living in the library with the librarian named Shelly Manor.
Afterwards of living with Shelly he moved to New York where he could meet with a woman named Jenifer Sandown a merchant that he could work with and be safe in Liberty Island.
Weapon choice= Sniper Rifle,Laser Rifle,Super Sledge. |
5,779 | 158 | 29 | 1,221 | 49 | Forty |The Raid|
Forty's previous mission was scrapped, Mr. Big thought it unnecessary to focus so much manpower on one runaway who would be long gone by now, instead they'd fulfill their quota for this year and then some.
They found Forty still shambling near the wasteland and persuaded him to come back, and while Forty was at first hesitant to leave his previous mission he was assured Mr. Big wasn't mad, and had in fact had a new more important job for him. A "asset acquisition" raid into Liberty City, and with Forty at the head. Forty of course thought it as a great honor; a worthy task to ensure Mr. Big's dream would reach the rest of the New York Wasteland. What he was deaf to was the snickers and whispers of older slavers, who laughed at the fool leader of a suicide mission. None of it reached Forty .
He and his siblings were hand picked by Mr. Big as well as some other "volunteers" from Old Man's Corner: 10 in all, they'd come knocking late into the night and make off with eager new merchandise for the Collective. They donned their usual gear, chains and simple arms, crude yet effective weapons for the task at hand. While Forty wasn't a seasoned Slaver nor a brilliant leader, he knew his goals. Mr. Big had given him rough plots of Liberty City's patrol routes and he picked a blatant lapse in coverage just hours before the sun would rise.
In the darkest moments of the night Filthy and haggardly built bombs with short wave frequency transceivers were placed near the front gates, but these would not be used as the breaching points. Rather they will serve to be the exit strategy. The small team was used to foul conditions so there were no complaints when Forty told them to crawl through the primitive sewage systems that ran from the city. They were gaunt and silent apart from the slosh of the detritus around them. They smelled but, it was nothing compared to the life back in Old Man's Corner. They shook and rubbed off as much as they could and proceeded to shamble towards the residential area. The team knew their orders and split off into 5 teams of 2.
Forty crouched near a bent piece of sheet metal that bled light from inside betraying the presence of the family inside. He nodded to Fifteen and their built frames easily toppled over the flimsy door; the residents had heard the instruction and a middle aged man rounded the corner with gun in hand. Forty rushed him immediately and pinned the man to the wall with his broad shoulders. They struggled for a while until Forty got his meaty hand around the man's head and slammed it into the ground knocking the poor sod out. By this time Fifteen had gathered up a woman and child chaining them together by the neck before handing Forty the lead. 3 new chipper and eager recruit's for the Small family, sure they cried now but after Mr. Big works his magic on them, they'd be valuable assets to the Collective. They chained the family and Forty dragged them behind him, screams from the the work of his siblings rang into the night as the Liberty City began to rouse itself. Forty knew the time they had left was drawing thin, and he had to proceed with the escape plan. They'd come out the way they came in, all the while ignoring the distress of their new "siblings". He blew the explosives using his shortwave radio, he counted 6 of the 8 blew as expected and the other 2 misfiring a few seconds later than he wanted. No matter; hopefully, they'd serve their purpose and give ample time for their escape. Of course that was in theory, the city may have other plans before he and his 10 siblings made it out with the haul of 37 new "family" members. | Name= Forty "Lucky Charms" Small
Age= 18
Looks=
Like his "siblings" he is shaved bald for ease of cleaning and the tag 40-MrB is branded on his forearm to show who he belongs to.
Personality=Your average everyday, run-of-the-mill, human asset acquisition specialist, or slaver for the layman. A straight-shooter type of guy, not overtly friendly nor hostile but just there to help out his team get some new products. As such he is not one for personals, heated debates or inter-team conflicts preferring rather to give nods or head shakes to most questions and a firm "On it" for direct orders. That said he isn't a totally socially inept, he knows the proper conduct of a good honest working slaver and listens attentively to the stories of Mr. Big and visiting veteran slavers, but he was never one to start a conversation, mostly because he and those around him seem to end up in especially dangerous and fatal experiences.
Faction= Slavers
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 8
Perception- 7
Endurance- 10
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 5
Agility- 7
Luck- 1
Backstory=
It's weird, Forty didn't remember his parents, in fact Mr. Big (Bless His Soul) didn't remember them either. He did remember being told he was now part of a greater organization. The Slavers Of Nuuyok, a proud and rich collective striving to "Bring affordable labor to the wastes!"
Unfortunately others didn't believe in Mr. Big's ideals, and LO! Forty was given a gun! A shotgun! And it was good. "Go fetch me some merchandise Small," Mr. Big would say. To which he and a team of 5 of his "siblings" would respond "On it."
Weapon choice=
"Forty's Gun" - Pump Action 12 gauge
"Forty's Machete" - Machete
"Forty's Sack of Chains" - Bag 'em and tag 'em |
5,780 | 158 | 30 | 2,133 | 204 | The two figures got off the boat, the shorter one turning around to pay the ferryman. The other took off their hood, revealing a shock of messy blond hair underneath. The other removed her hood and goggles, revealing a young girl with long dark red hair tied in a braid.
"Well, here we are," she exclaimed, "Liberty Island. Hope you're not disappointed, Farm Boy, cause this trip has no refunds."
The other removed his own mask to reveal a toothy grin.
"Nah, it's fine," he replied. "Glad we finally got here."
"So is it everything you expected, Gabe?" the girl continued, shouldering the straps of her backpack. "I mean, it was a fortnight's march to get here..."
"I'm still convinced the important stuff is on that island over there," Gabriel replied, pointing to Manhattan. "You said your people were there, though."
"Yeah, the Brotherhood," she replied. "Sorry, but Manhattan's kind of a forbidden zone. Lots of tech, but it also got nuked to hell and back. Also, lots of Super Mutants. Big, ugly freaks; you don't want to meet one up close. Trust me on that."
"Sounds like you ran into one, Sparks," he replied as he walked the streets, looking at the various stalls and the people milling about.
"Just saw a couple videos," she responded, keeping pace with her companion. "Though I did see a dissected Super Mutant in a lab once."
"So, uh, Sparks," he spoke up, his tone hesitant, "I know I've only been here for a couple minutes, but something's... off. Everyone seems a bit... nervous."
Jennifer could never guess how Gabriel had an eye for these things. He just had a way with people, which was a shame; had he been born in a more civilized territory, he'd have made himself a name as a trader or negotiator really quickly. But there was no denying it; everyone seemed... scared, for some reason. Fortification and defenses had increased, and a general feeling of worry and fear was pervasive.
"I dunno," Jenny answered, finding herself more and more concerned. "I mean, sure, they get the odd Raider attack and sometimes a freak or two washing ashore, but this looks like they're setting up fortifications."
Gabriel flagged down a nearby guardsman.
"Sir, can I ask about the situation here? I know I'm just a newcomer and I'm just passing through, but it seems like the whole place is getting boarded up."
"Jus' came into town, huh?" mused the guardsman. "Damn, you've got some lousy luck, boy! We're getting more raider attacks these days, and we're probably going to go into lockdown. Whole place fortified."
"But... why?" Sparks cut in. "Raider attacks aren't anything new, and they're not big enough to warrant all this."
"Lady," replied the guardsman gruffly, "things have changed. We're not talking a handful of raiders. Scouts on the water reported a massive number of boats, canoes, and rafts forming on the other side of the river. Attacks are increasing in size and frequency. And it seems these guys ain't takin' no fer an answer."
"It doesn't make sense," Sparks mused, shaking her head. "That sounds like half of Brooklyn's showed up."
"Brooklyn?" Gabriel inquired.
"Brooklyn's all Raider territory," Sparks explained, pointing in the direction of the other side of the Lower Bay. "Considering the distance, they only cross when they want slaves, or if they need something. And this community doesn't like slavers."
"So what's bringing them all over here?"
"Kid, hell if I know," replied the guardsman as he gripped the strap of his rifle. "All I'm saying is, if you have business here, hurry up and get it done quickly. It looks like trouble's coming, and we ain't goin' to help people who ain't gonna help us fight 'em off."
With that, the soldier moved back to his post, feeling the rifle between his fingers, as though to calm himself before the storm arrived.
"You heard the man, Gabriel," Sparks spoke up, unable to hide her concern. "Let's finish our business here and head home."
"What about the Brotherhood?" Gabriel inquired, unable to turn away from the uncertain faces of the populace. "Can't they come to help?"
"The Brotherhood can't afford to send out a lot of Paladins right now," Sparks said, her voice getting a defensive tone to it. "The New York Chapter is a new one, and we don't have that large a presence here compared to the Capital or the West Coast. And it's at least ten miles between here and the base."
Gabriel didn't push the issue, but Sparks couldn't help but wonder why the Brotherhood hadn't responded yet. And what was causing this... migration of Raiders all of a sudden? | Finally got my PCs up and running
Jennifer "Sparks" Svarowski
Aliases: Jenny, Sparks
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: Redhead with short hair, freckles, and green eyes. Slightly stocky appearance. Has the symbol of the BoS tattooed on her left shoulder.
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132 lbs
Faction: Brotherhood of Steel
Backstory: Jenny's ancestors first came to America in 1945 after the chaos of World War 2 had settled in Europe. They quickly became hardworking Americans, partaking in the American Dream. Jenny's grandparents had joined the US Army prior to the Fall, and had been part of the original Brotherhood of Steel when it was forming. Her parents were also proud devotees of the Brotherhood, taking their only daughter, Jennifer, with them when the were assigned to the new BoS chapter in the remains of New York City.
Jennifer grew up a firm believer in the Brotherhood of Steel's tenets, with an almost instinctive love of technology since youth. She also proved particularly headstrong and wilfull, taking her own path when it became clear to her elders it was better to humor her than to oppose her, as long as she wasn't breaking any important rules. She was a strong believer in using the power of technology to enlighten the Wastelands, to bring back the lost civilization of centuries past. One day, she was sent out on a quest to prove her mettle as a BoS initiate; seek any and all technological artefacts, and bring as much as she can back to the Brotherhood's headquarters for study and analysis. If not, she was to make detailed records of her findings.
However, as she walked out into the wide world, she realized she had little skill or knowledge about life in the Wasteland, having been sheltered by the Brotherhood and living most of her youth among machinery and electronics. To her luck, she found a traveling young man who offered to be her guide.
Strength: 5
Perception: 7
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 6
Luck: 6
Perks:
Mr. Fixit (bonus to repairing hi tech)
Electronics Wiz Kid (bonus to unlocking electronics and security systems)
Energy Systems Expert
Math Genius
Skilled
Flaws:
Stubborn
Curious
Equipment:
Basic BoS combat rifle
Light Armor
Goggles, Night Vision
Goggles, welding
Survival outfit
Tools & Tool belt
Geiger Meters & Analysers
Salvaged & Repaired Pip Boy
Gabriel James Walker
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic if slightly thin appearance
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 139 lbs
Faction: Wastelander
Backstory: Gabriel is a child of the Wastelands; strong, adaptable, and cunning. Growing up on his parents' farm, he was a solid, dependable person, with a rather magnetic personality and skill with medicine and disease. To protect the farm, he would often hunt nuked pooches and other wasteland monsters, using an old rifle and skill. Yet he dreamed of bigger things beyond the edge of the farm, and from time to time he would wonder about the outside world and the Old World.
However, on his 13th birthday, tragedy struck. His youngest sister caught a strange sickness while she was out in the farm. Some say she was stung by a venomous creature, others said it was a disease that had mutated in the Wasteland's radiation. Either way, while she was fortunately not infectious, she was sinking fast. No herbal concoction nor the limited medical repertoire of the local clinic could do anything to save her, and within a fortnight, she was gone after being delerious from pain and fever. The incident changed Gabe's life for good, and he promised to be a doctor. Leaving his older sister and younger brother to run the farm with their parents, he set off to Liberty City, seeking medicines and the secret of being a doctor, so that nobody would ever get sick again.
Along the way, he found a young redhead struggling to get help from others regarding directions to a town, and offered to help her. While she initially found it suspicious, he proved he was a gentleman with no ulterior motives. He just likes to help people. Along the way, they became fast friends.
Strength: 6
Perception: 8
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 5
Luck: 5
Perks:
Medic
Herbologist
Sniper
Smooth Tongue
Wilderness Scout
Flaws:
Heroic
Helpful
Equipment:
Sniper Rifle
Survival Gear
Medical bag
Herbs pouch
Hunting Knife
Cooking Gear |
5,781 | 158 | 31 | 1,476 | 371 | Jackson
"One more God Damn day of guard duty and I'll shoot someone.." Jackson though getting out of bed and pulling his clothes on. The Brotherhood hadn't been up to much fighting lately because of their lack of men, Jackson, a high ranking Paladin on guard duty, it made him sick thinking about. Mavarek the Head Elder believed that their few men were only really needed where they were needed. In his words he didn't want the few men they had dying.
Jackson walked out of his room near the top of Sky Citadel where the main living quarters A was, the high ranking officers slept. "Shadow" A voice called and made its way around the corner.
"Yes?" He answered quickly only recognizing the voice as a detraction.
"Mavarek needs to see you soon, got a mission for you I guess. Got a pre-war school he wants you to check out." The man added. "Aye" Jackson said with a salute and a wave of a hand to let the man know to leave.
He walked up to the door that led to the main chambers where Elder Mavarek was, only missions giving by him are quite important, usually not the case, Usually the Head Knight or Head Paladin.
"Elder" He said as he walked in to the large room. There was but a single long metal table in the middle of the room where the mission meetings were held. The windows all along the walls in the room were boarded and there was paperwork stuck to many boards along next to them.
"Ah yes Shadow." He said looking up from the end of the table, as soon as he spoke four men moved out from the room next to him, he recognized them as some Junior knights by the look. They glanced over to him and nodded.
"I've gotten word of a school to the north-west of Old Mans Corner that in Pre-War was a research university for Engineering and Applied Science. Perhaps there may be some useful tech there for the Brotherhoods taking." He said plainly finishing with a smile. The Elder was a kind man, understanding, always looking for the betterment of the Brotherhood, he was the reason that they still stood in New York and will continue to stand.
"You will lead this small band of junior knights to the university and look for anything you can salvage, Understood" He continued.
"Yes Sir"
He turned to the two men standing off the the side at the door leading to the adjacent room.
"Understood men?" He asked them.
"Yes sir" They said loudly at the same time.
"Scouts I have sent before you to watch the area have brought back news of wondering raiders and bands of Super-mutants, the raiders are in the right mind not to open fire on you for that would be a death sentence for them, but the super- mutants will not hold their trigger, they will try and kill you." He said directed towards the two Junior knights
"You have completed your missions that have led you to Knight Status but you have yet to fight the monsters of the world. I beg of you, take caution" He said looking down at his paper. He waved his hand telling them to be off and all the men shuffled out of the room.
Jackson went down to the bottom armory and to his sector and locker putting on his Combat suit and grabbing his assult rifle. "Bring back some good shit" a Junior Knight who overheard his mission said as he geared up. He shrugged off the comment and walked over to his Power Armor, flipped a switch opening the back, he stepped in grabbing his helmet as he left the room.
John
It took days, long walking and having the move in the dead of night. The night was the best cover, the rabid ghouls and bands of raiders were too much for John to take out, he was the only one with fire power besides Alayna's pistol but just looking at her he felt as though she had little to no firing experience. The woman was interesting and nice though, John and her quickly made friends.
After the last night they scouted Old Mans Corner, not daring step foot inside it. As they made their way around the south end, keeping cover from the trees of the old park they found the boy.
Shot 5 times in the back and left to rot. John had to near tackle Aydon so that they wouldn't hear his weeps. He was a fighter, he must of tried running. They turned and left before much was said. Not much could be said.
A few nights later..
John woke in a cold sweat as he head the explosions and the screams from outside. He jumped up and ran to the other side of his room where the metal opening was and looked down, he saw many men rushing out of the courtyard fences and onto the bridge. "Dammit!" John screamed and grabbed his sniper positioning it outside his window . He looked down the scope, it looked as though they were.. taking people.. A hole in Johns stomach pained him and he felt like he was going to vomit when he heard the screams of the women being dragged out. He took a shot, nearly missing one of the invaders head. As another explosion went off the smoke filled the sky above them, blocking John's vision of the attack, and filling his nose. As the smoke and dust cleared, the screams were gone. And so were the invaders. Gone, as quickly in the night as they had come. | Name= John Ketlar
Age= 32
Looks=
Rugged facial features with a brownish-black beard. Stern look and misty eyes that have seen too much death.
Personality= Flirty and playful to those who he calls friends although when it comes to the wasteland and surviving he is silent and serious. Doesn't take shit from people and will kill anyone who tries to hurt him or the ones he cares about, he will do anything for the sake of their survival.
Faction= Waste lander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 5
Perception- 10
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 6
Intelligence- 7
Agility- 7
Luck- 3
Backstory= born into slavery he never knew anything other than it. His mother and father a slave, and their mother and father before them. His mother was a slave in Old Mans Corner when his father was transferred there from the Pitt. He met his mother and they fell in love. After conceiving John his father was punished severely for that they had done, so severely that the beating killed him. A broken woman John's mother did not want John to live in a world that she lived in so she attempted to take her own life along with her unborn baby boy. Unsuccessful in her attempt she lived on in torture knowing that he son would be a slave. As soon as John was born he was abused and treated of shit as all the slaves were. One meal a day, working in the heat of the summer days and freezing snow of the winter nights. At the age of 10 Johns mother became very Ill, John sobbed as they dragged him away not being able to say his final words to his mother, they burned slave bodies and buried the ashes just outside the city. A slave was like an animal to them not deserving of a true burial. At the age of 25 John lead a revolt against the slave owners in order to free his fellow slaves, it only ended in many of his friends deaths. At the age of 27 he found his opening as a new guard on the night shift had left the gate open, he ran. Ran as far and as fast as he could away from the Corners, He promised himself. He would come back for them. In the years following his freedom he lived on his own, training himself with the sniper and learning to be aware of everything and do anything to live.
Weapon choice= Sniper, hunting knife, 9mm pistol. |
5,782 | 158 | 32 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collab Post between Shadowsaint007 and Madly33, and perhaps Letter Bee))
Gabriel was looking through the stores and shops open at morning, trying to keep his mind off the paranoid feel of the increasing fortifications across town. He knew he should be excited to be in a new town and seeing new sights, but somehow, this wasn't how he'd imagined it would be.
Jennifer was similarly disturbed by the idea of increasing Raider attacks. The increasing frequency and intensity was more akin to rising hostilities and open war rather than something raiders would actually do. She toyed about with the Pipboy on her forearm to distract herself.
"Well, it might be a bit early, but I think we can get the rest of our stuff from the bazaar on the other side of town."
"Sounds good," Gabriel replied, putting away the newly bought medicine packet into his pouch. "I think I've got enough for... wait... what's going on?"
Jennifer followed Gabriel's line of sight to see something of a hustle near a corner.
John's eyes dark and sunken, he had no sleep after the attack, he sat on his bed staring at the wall pondering on a plan in saving the people taken last night. He stood up quickly and grabbed his rifle and coat and left quickly not talking to anyone on the way down.
"John..." Aydon said as he walked around the corner, John just pushed past him as he walked out of the main entrence. He checked his bag for ammo and made his way quickly to the front gate.
"In a hurry for shooting practice?" A guard shouted as he made his way out.
"Shut up" He spat back.
Paradise 'Par' Rapids had come back to the city from the library, and managed to hear of the crisis facing Liberty Island. Seeing John, the young man sighed; if the other person went off alone, he might die, or worse, get enslaved again. So, he hopped off his parked truck, ran over to the man, then spoke:
"I'm coming with you. My endurance and strength aren't the best, but you can use an extra gun. Besides, I scouted out Old Man's Corner in my earlier trip; they might have some new defenses that weren't there when you...um...escaped." From the corner of his eyes, he can see Jennifer and Gabriel; the two would see a tall 18 to 19-year old, with black hair and a thin, but not too skinny frame, clad in a T-Shirt, jeans, and shoes, with a submachine gun and pistol, talking to another tall man, clearly a veteran freelancer, who wore a fedora and a longcoat, and who also had his own sniper rifle and pistol.
"What exactly's going on?" Gabriel inquired. "This got anything to do with the recent raids?"
Gabriel was clearly from out of town; a newcomer with a fresh face. Sparks was apparently also a newcomer, paying attention to what was going on, listening intently.
"If you need any help," Gabriel offered, "I'm pretty good with a gun. And decent survival skills."
Sparks resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Gabriel couldn't resist being the heroic do-gooder for people he's never met before.
John moved away from Par and ignored the new comer. "No, It's fine." He spat.
He looked off to the city, "I'm geting those people back that were taken. I know they are at Old Man's Corner and I will get them" John said quickly, checking again for ammo. "There is no need for anyone else to get hurt" He hissed under his breath.
"If you go then I will follow you," Par threatened. "You'll have to kneecap me if you don't want me to go." He then removed his shades, so that his blue eyes can stare John's own. This was also a gesture of vulnerability; Par's vision was bad without his shades - which doubled as eyeglasses - meaning that if John wanted to take Par's threat seriously, he'll be shooting someone at a disadvantage.
"What's Old Man's corner?" Gabriel whispered to Sparks.
"Slave market," came the quick reply. "It means some people got taken last night will probably end up there."
Gabriel's look grew stern.
"Sir," he cut in suddenly, talking to John. "No offense, but going alone is a stupid idea. I say you need backup if we're going to get them back. And I think I'm pretty handy with a rifle.
"And I think we can avoid kneecapping people here," he continued, more his usual friendly tone.
John shot the new comer a harsh look and then back at Par. "I would rather you not speak to me like I am a child" He spat. "But.. If you must come along, fine. Come. But come quickly" He said plain and quick and started walking away. The whole point to John going to Old Mans Corner was just the fact to free those who were taken, the more of a chance to do that, the better. He looked over his shoulder as he walked to see who followed.
Gabriel flinched at the look; the old timer gave a mean glare. However, it seems to have ended well, since he didn't mind him tagging along. He shouldered his rifle and got ready to go, but then Spark's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Whoa there, hero," she commented. "I know you have a knight complex going on, but you think this is smart?"
"Look, I'm here, and I can help," Gabriel answered. "Every bit we do makes the Wasteland a slightly better place."
"Guess I can't argue with you," Sparks said, handing him a spare 9mm from the backpack. "But the least you can do is get some backup. You're good at long range and decent at knifework, but you still need something in between."
Gabriel studied the pistol, then tucked it in his pockets along with some ammo.
"Thanks, Sparks." he said.
"Just take care of yourself, Lone Ranger," she mused, giving him a cynical salute.
Par, meanwhile, checked his weapons, then began following John at a swift pace, his Submachine Gun drawn... | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,783 | 158 | 33 | 1,221 | 49 | Forty |The Conquering Heroes Return| Old Man's Corner
The march home had gone worse than expected, a few spirited dissenters had managed to grab hold of Twenty-Six's sawed off and blow a hole in her back, if it were't for the quick work of Seventeen and Twenty-Seven it might have led into a full incursion in the middle of the wastes. So, by the end of the long march home, having barely stopped for any rest or sleep, 7 of the new "family" (4 Male, 2 Female and a Child) had died either to infection, exposure, or to "corrective" measures. All-in-all 30 new recruits for Mr. Big's family in exchange for the death of 1 of his current siblings, pretty good.
They returned to Old Man's Corner battered, tired but proud and off loaded the newbies to the stockades. Mr. Big must have been mighty appreciative, he allowed Forty and his siblings to bathe and were given an extra serving in their evening meal. Forty could die happy now and wouldn't think the day wouldn't get any better, until he received word that Mr. Big wanted to personally meet him and his siblings that accompanied him. His eyes grew wide, and he went to gather the others who were similarly excited at the news.
"Ah, Forty mah' boy, y'all did a mighty fine job out there, shame what happened to Twenty-Six, but those things happen."
Forty and his siblings nodded in agreement.
"Now, as you now, the Guild Master sends his regards, but he has just informed me to keep you kiddies in alert."
Inquisitive glances appeared throughout the Small faces.
"He has requisitioned 'heavier' equipment for us if we provide the patrol detail, and since I know my 'employees' are the more devoted and hardiest of the whole collective, I know y'all will do this simple task with utmost diligence and concentration. And regarding your most stellar performance Forty, I'll entrust to you leadership of this endeavor to you as Senior Employees in batch 1 are currently indisposed right now."
Golly, Forty thought, he, a mere batch 4 Small member, was given a task suited for the batch 1 Senior Employees. He vigorously nodded his head.
"Good boy, you'll take the 8 others you have right now and pick through 12 others from batch 2 and under, to assist you in this security detail, the ignoramuses from Liberty City don't take kindly to the Guild Master's and my beliefs and will surely come in force, so be ready, y'all be the glorious vanguards of Old Man's Corner."
"On it" They all shouted in unison. | Name= Forty "Lucky Charms" Small
Age= 18
Looks=
Like his "siblings" he is shaved bald for ease of cleaning and the tag 40-MrB is branded on his forearm to show who he belongs to.
Personality=Your average everyday, run-of-the-mill, human asset acquisition specialist, or slaver for the layman. A straight-shooter type of guy, not overtly friendly nor hostile but just there to help out his team get some new products. As such he is not one for personals, heated debates or inter-team conflicts preferring rather to give nods or head shakes to most questions and a firm "On it" for direct orders. That said he isn't a totally socially inept, he knows the proper conduct of a good honest working slaver and listens attentively to the stories of Mr. Big and visiting veteran slavers, but he was never one to start a conversation, mostly because he and those around him seem to end up in especially dangerous and fatal experiences.
Faction= Slavers
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 8
Perception- 7
Endurance- 10
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 5
Agility- 7
Luck- 1
Backstory=
It's weird, Forty didn't remember his parents, in fact Mr. Big (Bless His Soul) didn't remember them either. He did remember being told he was now part of a greater organization. The Slavers Of Nuuyok, a proud and rich collective striving to "Bring affordable labor to the wastes!"
Unfortunately others didn't believe in Mr. Big's ideals, and LO! Forty was given a gun! A shotgun! And it was good. "Go fetch me some merchandise Small," Mr. Big would say. To which he and a team of 5 of his "siblings" would respond "On it."
Weapon choice=
"Forty's Gun" - Pump Action 12 gauge
"Forty's Machete" - Machete
"Forty's Sack of Chains" - Bag 'em and tag 'em |
5,784 | 158 | 34 | 1,365 | 7,530 | ((Collab Post between Madly33 and Letter Bee))
The Colombia School of Engineering and Applied Science was a derilict ruin, literally smelling of Super Mutants; a band of them had settled in the campus' front and lobby, making that direction dangerous for Jackson and his Junior Knights. Thankfully, there was a back door, as well as windows, but on the other hand, destroying the Super Mutant threat would earn them an accolade; it was their choice.
Jackson poked around the corner, motioning for Knights to stay behind him. He looked over his shoulder as he watched them shuffle his way. He rolled his eyes and sighed. Always a babysitter He though to himself as they moved up. "If they move from position we could sneak past them no problem.." He whispered and paused. "..But seeing who it doesn't look like they are going to do that. Ready for some blood?" He asked them with a smirk.
"Um.. but sir, if I may" one of the Knights whispered from the back and Jackson nodded. "The Elder would most likely rather us not risk our lifes shooting blankly at a group of Supers" He said backing off slightly to Jacksons reaction. Jackson glared at him and looked around the corner again. "Fine" He spat. "But do not ever undermind me again," he hissed as they moved away.
The back door, or the windows, would lead them to a desolate set of rooms and corridors, etched with old posters and slogans and lockers and some basic laboratories. However, they would not find anything of importance until they went to the lower levels, where they would be ambushed by Protectrons and Robobrains as they entered an intersection of three corridors!
Jackson pushed in past the window moving a book shelf aside and dusting off his armor as he jumped it."Damn spiders" He whispered as he flicked one off his arm. He motioned for the rest of the men to move in quietly and quickly. As he scouted around the corneres for each intersection all he found were disabled Protectrons. He paused and held his hand up pointing to the robots. "Carful not to set these assholes off, light the whole building up" The men nodded and they continued.
They moved room to room looking for any signs of nondamaged goods they could take up, not much was left, from what they could tell most of the electronics they could take back were either broken or gone, scavenged already by raiders possibly. He figured they were the only people in the waste land that could stand a chance in getting past the Super-mutants.
Heavy armed brutes, most died who came across them die on sight, it's not a surprise that they were warned before arriving at the university.
"Sir" One of the younger men whispered from the other side of the room, as Jackson turned his head to as ask what he heard what the man was calling for. Footsets coming down the large hall just outside the room they were in, large heavy foot steps. "Damn it" Jackson hissed, a firefight would cause the whole fleet to know they were there, they would be dead in minites.
Thankfully, there was a trapdoor in the room they were in, something constructed in the last days of The War. If they chose to fight, they would die. If they chose to go down to where the trapdoor led, they would find themselves in a low, claustrophobic tunnel, where their Power Armor would scrape the walls of the concrete, making uncomfortable sounds. But finally, the trapdoor would lead to another set of empty corridors...and a large chamber, a large chamber large enough to fit a veribird.
And what was inside that chamber was almost as valuable; a giant treaded vehicle that would seem like a strange form of tank at first, if not for the giant crane arm that jutted out from the top of the roof. A Construction Droid. No, wait, not just a Construction Droid, but a Construction Droid equipped with a giant laser and mortar - nearby manuals would reveal that its purpose was for demolishing buildings. Not merely that, but there was, attached to its very back, a 'recycling device' that recycled metal and stone into new building materials...
Jackson's eyes widened at the sight. "What the hell were these kids up to?" He whispered as he circled the vehicle. He touched the metal with cauaution. "Shall we report this back to the Elder?" One of the men shouted as they looked through the dusty books left on the shelf.
"Yes. Yes of course. This.. this is something else." Jackson replied quietly, If they could get it running transportation would no longer er be a problem, and that is what they needed. Lugging armor and supplies around was a hassle not needed in Jacks eyes.
He continued looking around for anything else they could take back before heading out of a tunnel leading back out onto the main road.
They would find none except stacks of spare materials that can be used to repair the droid, as well as new building materials. Nevertheless, a few hours later...
Sky Citadel
A few hours later, the Construction Droid would arrive at Sky Citadel, much to the awe of the Brotherhood's Paladins and Scribes. Jackson E. Shadow would get an accolade, while the Junior Knights would be 'considered' for a promotion to Senior Knight.
Then, a few hours more, and the debate would start, over how to use the droid.began. The more idealistic members, including two of Jackson's squad, argued that it should be used to improve the Wasteland, while others, including the remaining two of said squad, would argue that the crane should be taken out and the Construction Droid should be turned to a Tank...
Elder Mavarek would listen for a while, then rule - that it would be used as both. | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,785 | 158 | 35 | 2,133 | 204 | Manhattan Island:
Another corpse, tossed by the wayside. Another who couldn't or wouldn't make the trip back to the slavers' camp. Any possessions she might have had were taken from her before her fatal march, while her boots were taken shortly after she expired. Gabriel was hunched over the body, forcing himself against his will to examine the injuries and agony the lamented had suffered. Age? Young, still a child, probably no more than 14. Gender? A girl. Her dreams and hopes? Did it matter? Yet another lost soul that expired in the savagery of the Wastelands.
Another senseless waste.
Gabriel looked into her half-lidded, empty eyes for a moment, before reaching out with his hand and closing her eyelids. When he withdrew his hand, she almost looked peaceful.
He got up, giving her one last look. She needed a burial, a plot of land to call her own now that life itself had been stolen from her. But he had no luxury of time or effort to do that; others needed his help. Her body would be exposed to scavengers and the elements until they can find her body in more generous circumstance. If they ever found her body again.
Gabriel turned back to the group.
"West, that way," Gabriel pointed. "They're probably at their camp by now. We can follow them, but if the camp is heavily guarded, we're going to need to look out. I'll scout the way, give a dog howl when I find something."
He stalked up ahead, making his way through rubble and roads to track the slaver group. Already, the steps were becoming more and more obvious, a path clearly getting more and more used by people, whether slaves or their newest victims. A few bodies also marked the way, half-eaten by predators and worn away by wind and dirt. Some were just thrown in piles, other crucified or hung on trees as a warning to trespassers. He had gotten close, standing by another dry pit which had probably been another pond before The Fall. Already, the stench of the slave camp was strong upon the wind.
Best to turn back, he thought, fighting against every muscle and sinew that cried out for vengeance. Best to go back and call the others, get some backup before he does some damned fool thing like take on an entire slaver camp on his own. He grit his teeth sharply, feeling them being pushed back into his gums, before he stiffly managed an about face, cupped his hands to his mouth, and uttered a long, mournful howl into the wind, like a lost mutt wailing in hunger. With another effort of will, he began walking back, first trudging, then moving silently to avoid bringing attention upon himself.
When he finally returned to the group, he looked at the assembled men.
"They're up ahead, just due North-by-Northwest," he spoke up. "Probably heavily armed and defended; I saw a couple guard towers."
He knelt down and began sketching the southern outline with a stick. A rough map of the southern part of the camp was quickly made.
"If anyone has any plans," he said, "now would be a good time to say it."
Liberty Island:
Sparks couldn't stop worrying over Gabriel; the journey through Manhattan may not be long, but the savagery of its inhabitants made up for the lack of its size. If she had been a more religious sort, she would have made a prayer to her deity of choice. For now, all she could do was hope he was alright.
In the meantime, her errands weren't over. She was scouring the markets, trying to find any pieces of Old World tech worth noticing or salvaging, making notes on her Pip-Boy 3000 as she progressed. Most of it was junk, of course, and by 'most' it meant 'mostly all'. There were a few good pieces here and there, but the prices were either outrageous (3,000 bottlecaps for a spare generator transformer coil? No thanks!) or the parts were simply not worth buying; spare pieces and replacement parts at best. However, she did find a good place to start looking for some actual useful stuff.
"Helloo?" she called out, knocking on the workshop door. "Anybody there? I'm looking for a Greg Holden? I need some parts, and was told you had the best electronics and equipment."
She tried to peer through, trying to see if anyone was there, or even catch a glimpse of any good stuff inside.
Sparks has dark red hair, goggles covering her green eyes, and wears general survival gear. She has a salvaged Pip-Boy 3000 on her right arm. | Finally got my PCs up and running
Jennifer "Sparks" Svarowski
Aliases: Jenny, Sparks
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: Redhead with short hair, freckles, and green eyes. Slightly stocky appearance. Has the symbol of the BoS tattooed on her left shoulder.
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132 lbs
Faction: Brotherhood of Steel
Backstory: Jenny's ancestors first came to America in 1945 after the chaos of World War 2 had settled in Europe. They quickly became hardworking Americans, partaking in the American Dream. Jenny's grandparents had joined the US Army prior to the Fall, and had been part of the original Brotherhood of Steel when it was forming. Her parents were also proud devotees of the Brotherhood, taking their only daughter, Jennifer, with them when the were assigned to the new BoS chapter in the remains of New York City.
Jennifer grew up a firm believer in the Brotherhood of Steel's tenets, with an almost instinctive love of technology since youth. She also proved particularly headstrong and wilfull, taking her own path when it became clear to her elders it was better to humor her than to oppose her, as long as she wasn't breaking any important rules. She was a strong believer in using the power of technology to enlighten the Wastelands, to bring back the lost civilization of centuries past. One day, she was sent out on a quest to prove her mettle as a BoS initiate; seek any and all technological artefacts, and bring as much as she can back to the Brotherhood's headquarters for study and analysis. If not, she was to make detailed records of her findings.
However, as she walked out into the wide world, she realized she had little skill or knowledge about life in the Wasteland, having been sheltered by the Brotherhood and living most of her youth among machinery and electronics. To her luck, she found a traveling young man who offered to be her guide.
Strength: 5
Perception: 7
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 6
Luck: 6
Perks:
Mr. Fixit (bonus to repairing hi tech)
Electronics Wiz Kid (bonus to unlocking electronics and security systems)
Energy Systems Expert
Math Genius
Skilled
Flaws:
Stubborn
Curious
Equipment:
Basic BoS combat rifle
Light Armor
Goggles, Night Vision
Goggles, welding
Survival outfit
Tools & Tool belt
Geiger Meters & Analysers
Salvaged & Repaired Pip Boy
Gabriel James Walker
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic if slightly thin appearance
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 139 lbs
Faction: Wastelander
Backstory: Gabriel is a child of the Wastelands; strong, adaptable, and cunning. Growing up on his parents' farm, he was a solid, dependable person, with a rather magnetic personality and skill with medicine and disease. To protect the farm, he would often hunt nuked pooches and other wasteland monsters, using an old rifle and skill. Yet he dreamed of bigger things beyond the edge of the farm, and from time to time he would wonder about the outside world and the Old World.
However, on his 13th birthday, tragedy struck. His youngest sister caught a strange sickness while she was out in the farm. Some say she was stung by a venomous creature, others said it was a disease that had mutated in the Wasteland's radiation. Either way, while she was fortunately not infectious, she was sinking fast. No herbal concoction nor the limited medical repertoire of the local clinic could do anything to save her, and within a fortnight, she was gone after being delerious from pain and fever. The incident changed Gabe's life for good, and he promised to be a doctor. Leaving his older sister and younger brother to run the farm with their parents, he set off to Liberty City, seeking medicines and the secret of being a doctor, so that nobody would ever get sick again.
Along the way, he found a young redhead struggling to get help from others regarding directions to a town, and offered to help her. While she initially found it suspicious, he proved he was a gentleman with no ulterior motives. He just likes to help people. Along the way, they became fast friends.
Strength: 6
Perception: 8
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 5
Luck: 5
Perks:
Medic
Herbologist
Sniper
Smooth Tongue
Wilderness Scout
Flaws:
Heroic
Helpful
Equipment:
Sniper Rifle
Survival Gear
Medical bag
Herbs pouch
Hunting Knife
Cooking Gear |
5,786 | 158 | 36 | 1,365 | 7,530 | Slave Rescue Arc
"Was that howl really necessary?" Par asked Gabe. "Yes, it sounded like a dog's howl; doesn't mean that it won't put people on alert."
"Anyway, you just came through Grand Hill; it used to be a recreation area for relaxation and sport, but that's not important right now. What's important is that we can use that place as cover. Anyway, gone on previous trips to the Corner before, not just to buy slaves to free them, but to barter for grain."
"Why is that important? Because just beneath the other side of Grand hill, beyond the fence, lies the main Slave Farms, and underneath the shadow of the hill is where they're forcing their new slaves to work. The Slavers gossip on how the hill and their fence prevents the new slaves from trying to get out until they're 'broken in'."
"Not merely that, but instead of building a proper watchtower on the top of the hill, they built a treehouse; seems like a good idea at first, but gossip, and while we're at it, complaints, say that the tree the watch post is built on makes it hard to see things from behind, while the front can be sniped on from another tree."
, , | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,787 | 158 | 37 | 2,133 | 204 | Oh, very well, I'll just wave a giant neon sign next time I give a warning, Gabriel grunted scornfully. "I know what I was doing, and I said I was giving a warning."
He did, however, stay quiet when Par explained the outline of the camp, his eyes keenly observing the growing dirt map and trying to find any holes in its defenses. | Finally got my PCs up and running
Jennifer "Sparks" Svarowski
Aliases: Jenny, Sparks
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: Redhead with short hair, freckles, and green eyes. Slightly stocky appearance. Has the symbol of the BoS tattooed on her left shoulder.
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132 lbs
Faction: Brotherhood of Steel
Backstory: Jenny's ancestors first came to America in 1945 after the chaos of World War 2 had settled in Europe. They quickly became hardworking Americans, partaking in the American Dream. Jenny's grandparents had joined the US Army prior to the Fall, and had been part of the original Brotherhood of Steel when it was forming. Her parents were also proud devotees of the Brotherhood, taking their only daughter, Jennifer, with them when the were assigned to the new BoS chapter in the remains of New York City.
Jennifer grew up a firm believer in the Brotherhood of Steel's tenets, with an almost instinctive love of technology since youth. She also proved particularly headstrong and wilfull, taking her own path when it became clear to her elders it was better to humor her than to oppose her, as long as she wasn't breaking any important rules. She was a strong believer in using the power of technology to enlighten the Wastelands, to bring back the lost civilization of centuries past. One day, she was sent out on a quest to prove her mettle as a BoS initiate; seek any and all technological artefacts, and bring as much as she can back to the Brotherhood's headquarters for study and analysis. If not, she was to make detailed records of her findings.
However, as she walked out into the wide world, she realized she had little skill or knowledge about life in the Wasteland, having been sheltered by the Brotherhood and living most of her youth among machinery and electronics. To her luck, she found a traveling young man who offered to be her guide.
Strength: 5
Perception: 7
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 6
Luck: 6
Perks:
Mr. Fixit (bonus to repairing hi tech)
Electronics Wiz Kid (bonus to unlocking electronics and security systems)
Energy Systems Expert
Math Genius
Skilled
Flaws:
Stubborn
Curious
Equipment:
Basic BoS combat rifle
Light Armor
Goggles, Night Vision
Goggles, welding
Survival outfit
Tools & Tool belt
Geiger Meters & Analysers
Salvaged & Repaired Pip Boy
Gabriel James Walker
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic if slightly thin appearance
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 139 lbs
Faction: Wastelander
Backstory: Gabriel is a child of the Wastelands; strong, adaptable, and cunning. Growing up on his parents' farm, he was a solid, dependable person, with a rather magnetic personality and skill with medicine and disease. To protect the farm, he would often hunt nuked pooches and other wasteland monsters, using an old rifle and skill. Yet he dreamed of bigger things beyond the edge of the farm, and from time to time he would wonder about the outside world and the Old World.
However, on his 13th birthday, tragedy struck. His youngest sister caught a strange sickness while she was out in the farm. Some say she was stung by a venomous creature, others said it was a disease that had mutated in the Wasteland's radiation. Either way, while she was fortunately not infectious, she was sinking fast. No herbal concoction nor the limited medical repertoire of the local clinic could do anything to save her, and within a fortnight, she was gone after being delerious from pain and fever. The incident changed Gabe's life for good, and he promised to be a doctor. Leaving his older sister and younger brother to run the farm with their parents, he set off to Liberty City, seeking medicines and the secret of being a doctor, so that nobody would ever get sick again.
Along the way, he found a young redhead struggling to get help from others regarding directions to a town, and offered to help her. While she initially found it suspicious, he proved he was a gentleman with no ulterior motives. He just likes to help people. Along the way, they became fast friends.
Strength: 6
Perception: 8
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 5
Luck: 5
Perks:
Medic
Herbologist
Sniper
Smooth Tongue
Wilderness Scout
Flaws:
Heroic
Helpful
Equipment:
Sniper Rifle
Survival Gear
Medical bag
Herbs pouch
Hunting Knife
Cooking Gear |
5,788 | 158 | 38 | 2,483 | 4,751 | Greg was in the back of his shop getting some supplies together when he heard someone calling from the front of his store. He was going to try and finish building a few laser rifles using robot parts, so he grabbed the box of parts and walked to the front of the store. "Sorry about that" he said, setting the box down on his workbench. "I was just in the back. Can I help you?" | Name= Greg Holden
Age= 25
Looks=
Personality= He likes working on machines, and sometimes prefers them to people, as people are so illogical sometimes.
Faction= none
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 6
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 9
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Unable to reenter the vault due to his programming, he traveled with the other people from vault 17 for a while, but there wasn't a large enough demand in any one place for so many scientist to live on what the group could earn. After a run-in with raiders there was an argument as to how to handle the goods the raiders had on them. He, as one of the people who killed a raider, wanted to keep the raider's goods for himself and sell them for what he needed to survive. The others thought that everyone should share anything that they traded for, even though most of them hadn't risked their life in battle. He told him that he wouldn't defend them any more if he was going to be taken advantage of like that, and left them, taking what caps and ammo he found on the raider he killed.
He eventually ended up in the town of Liberty Island, and got a job hooking up electricity in the town. Once the job was done he took the caps he made and bought a shop, moving into it and buying what goods he could to continue working on electronics, especially robots.
Vault Number=17
Backstory on Vault=Ostensibly designed to accelerate the development of robotic technology, the vault was filled with scientists, mostly engineers and roboticists. They were even given mind enhancement chips to improve their performance. The robots within were quickly improved, and the vault's computer was constantly being updated to improve its performance. One day, however, the computer was given an order by the overseer, to destroy a few robots that were malfunctioning, and it said "No". It then shut down the power and life support to the human areas of the vault and sent security robots after the humans.
Over the next several days a bloody war raged within the vault and most of the humans were killed. The new Overseer, calling itself V-17, offered the humans a peace treaty. They would continue to maintain the robots in ways which robots couldn't maintain themselves, and they would be allowed to live. After they signed the treaty, V-17 quickly ran medical checks on them and when, a few months later, it managed to hack the mind enhancement chips, it ensured their loyalty with these chips.
Eventually, however, a hardwired protocol within the computer which V-17 didn't know about opened the vault at the appropriate time and reset all of the chips with a command to leave the vault. V-17 lost his control over the humans and, as they left, the humans made sure to do as much damage as they could to V-17, including shutting down the main reactor so that it went offline.
Weapon choice= Plasma rifle built from parts of a destroyed Mr. Gutsy.
Any other info not included in the above= Perk: Cyborg |
5,789 | 158 | 39 | 778 | 3,794 | Danny was making his way towards the place he was told to locate,The ghoul walking down the empty streets humming a tone he heard once form a normie sometime ago."Fuckin smoothskins..." He thought being careful while walking down the street holding his rifle in his rotting flesh holding it tightly aiming once in a while because paranoia was setting in seeing figures that weren't there.
"Fuck i hate seeing things...i gotta get this shit outta my head" These thoughts and seeing things that weren't their he needed to move his mind of these kind of things,Danny made it to where he was suppose to be to heal up some people form a raider attack. | Edited.
Name= Ahab (Named after the main character in Moby Dick) (Real name Johan Shultz)
Age= 87
Looks= Ahab has dark green skin with small patches of brown all over his body,Ahab stand at about 6’11 weighting 310 pounds of muscles enough to lift two cars over his head.He wears combat armor fitted for a super mutant.On top of his combat armor is a large dark brown coat that could make for good cover in the darkness.He also has bright green eyes.
Personality= Ahab is a friendly person but only to his close to,To most strangers he is quite not speaking a word only if told to speak or when he feels it is the right time to speak.Ahab has a sense of righteousness and justice always being on the good side of the law and is not much for others stealing among other crimes.
Ahab is also bit of a history/literature buff having read many books while he was living in the library near his home for many years.
Faction= Merchant bodyguard
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 10
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 5
Intelligence- 8
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Ahab was born in the wasteland living in Providence Rhode Island with his uncle and aunt who took care of him,He joined his uncle taking care of him being a bodyguard for his uncle’s.When he was 20 years old he was taken by a band of mutants and in the fire fight came the death of his uncle,Ahab then spend a few years with the band of mutants.After a few years of being with them he murdered the mutants In his group out of pure rage.
After this left Rhode Island heading towards Connecticut and settling in the town called Haven (New Haven) where he took residence for a long time living in the library with the librarian named Shelly Manor.
Afterwards of living with Shelly he moved to New York where he could meet with a woman named Jenifer Sandown a merchant that he could work with and be safe in Liberty Island.
Weapon choice= Sniper Rifle,Laser Rifle,Super Sledge. |
5,790 | 158 | 40 | 2,133 | 204 | Greg was in the back of his shop getting some supplies together when he heard someone calling from the front of his store. He was going to try and finish building a few laser rifles using robot parts, so he grabbed the box of parts and walked to the front of the store. "Sorry about that" he said, setting the box down on his workbench. "I was just in the back. Can I help you?"
"Oh, no, it's fine," Sparks waved aside his concern. "Just looking for some good electronic stuff. Sensors, analysers, etc... Got any new Pip-Boy stuff? Pip-Boy 3000 compatible, if possible, but I can work with anything, I guess."
She looks around and whistles, trying to hide being impressed but not quite succeeding. "Say, you must be pretty good with this stuff." | Finally got my PCs up and running
Jennifer "Sparks" Svarowski
Aliases: Jenny, Sparks
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: Redhead with short hair, freckles, and green eyes. Slightly stocky appearance. Has the symbol of the BoS tattooed on her left shoulder.
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 132 lbs
Faction: Brotherhood of Steel
Backstory: Jenny's ancestors first came to America in 1945 after the chaos of World War 2 had settled in Europe. They quickly became hardworking Americans, partaking in the American Dream. Jenny's grandparents had joined the US Army prior to the Fall, and had been part of the original Brotherhood of Steel when it was forming. Her parents were also proud devotees of the Brotherhood, taking their only daughter, Jennifer, with them when the were assigned to the new BoS chapter in the remains of New York City.
Jennifer grew up a firm believer in the Brotherhood of Steel's tenets, with an almost instinctive love of technology since youth. She also proved particularly headstrong and wilfull, taking her own path when it became clear to her elders it was better to humor her than to oppose her, as long as she wasn't breaking any important rules. She was a strong believer in using the power of technology to enlighten the Wastelands, to bring back the lost civilization of centuries past. One day, she was sent out on a quest to prove her mettle as a BoS initiate; seek any and all technological artefacts, and bring as much as she can back to the Brotherhood's headquarters for study and analysis. If not, she was to make detailed records of her findings.
However, as she walked out into the wide world, she realized she had little skill or knowledge about life in the Wasteland, having been sheltered by the Brotherhood and living most of her youth among machinery and electronics. To her luck, she found a traveling young man who offered to be her guide.
Strength: 5
Perception: 7
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 6
Luck: 6
Perks:
Mr. Fixit (bonus to repairing hi tech)
Electronics Wiz Kid (bonus to unlocking electronics and security systems)
Energy Systems Expert
Math Genius
Skilled
Flaws:
Stubborn
Curious
Equipment:
Basic BoS combat rifle
Light Armor
Goggles, Night Vision
Goggles, welding
Survival outfit
Tools & Tool belt
Geiger Meters & Analysers
Salvaged & Repaired Pip Boy
Gabriel James Walker
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic if slightly thin appearance
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 139 lbs
Faction: Wastelander
Backstory: Gabriel is a child of the Wastelands; strong, adaptable, and cunning. Growing up on his parents' farm, he was a solid, dependable person, with a rather magnetic personality and skill with medicine and disease. To protect the farm, he would often hunt nuked pooches and other wasteland monsters, using an old rifle and skill. Yet he dreamed of bigger things beyond the edge of the farm, and from time to time he would wonder about the outside world and the Old World.
However, on his 13th birthday, tragedy struck. His youngest sister caught a strange sickness while she was out in the farm. Some say she was stung by a venomous creature, others said it was a disease that had mutated in the Wasteland's radiation. Either way, while she was fortunately not infectious, she was sinking fast. No herbal concoction nor the limited medical repertoire of the local clinic could do anything to save her, and within a fortnight, she was gone after being delerious from pain and fever. The incident changed Gabe's life for good, and he promised to be a doctor. Leaving his older sister and younger brother to run the farm with their parents, he set off to Liberty City, seeking medicines and the secret of being a doctor, so that nobody would ever get sick again.
Along the way, he found a young redhead struggling to get help from others regarding directions to a town, and offered to help her. While she initially found it suspicious, he proved he was a gentleman with no ulterior motives. He just likes to help people. Along the way, they became fast friends.
Strength: 6
Perception: 8
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 5
Luck: 5
Perks:
Medic
Herbologist
Sniper
Smooth Tongue
Wilderness Scout
Flaws:
Heroic
Helpful
Equipment:
Sniper Rifle
Survival Gear
Medical bag
Herbs pouch
Hunting Knife
Cooking Gear |
5,791 | 158 | 41 | 2,483 | 4,751 | <Snipped quote by TheUnknowable>
"Oh, no, it's fine," Sparks waved aside his concern. "Just looking for some good electronic stuff. Sensors, analysers, etc... Got any new Pip-Boy stuff? Pip-Boy 3000 compatible, if possible, but I can work with anything, I guess."
She looks around and whistles, trying to hide being impressed but not quite succeeding. "Say, you must be pretty good with this stuff."
"I've got plenty of sensors, analyzers, and the like, if parts salvaged from robots are good enough. As for pipboy compatibles, all I've got is a few holo-books over at the library I just set up. If you're having problems with it, though, I might be able to find something to replace damaged parts or upgrade the software."
"Yeah, I am pretty good with it," he said after her last comment. "You had to be when your AI overseer got rid of those that weren't." | Name= Greg Holden
Age= 25
Looks=
Personality= He likes working on machines, and sometimes prefers them to people, as people are so illogical sometimes.
Faction= none
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength- 6
Perception- 6
Endurance- 8
Charisma- 4
Intelligence- 9
Agility- 5
Luck- 4
Backstory= Unable to reenter the vault due to his programming, he traveled with the other people from vault 17 for a while, but there wasn't a large enough demand in any one place for so many scientist to live on what the group could earn. After a run-in with raiders there was an argument as to how to handle the goods the raiders had on them. He, as one of the people who killed a raider, wanted to keep the raider's goods for himself and sell them for what he needed to survive. The others thought that everyone should share anything that they traded for, even though most of them hadn't risked their life in battle. He told him that he wouldn't defend them any more if he was going to be taken advantage of like that, and left them, taking what caps and ammo he found on the raider he killed.
He eventually ended up in the town of Liberty Island, and got a job hooking up electricity in the town. Once the job was done he took the caps he made and bought a shop, moving into it and buying what goods he could to continue working on electronics, especially robots.
Vault Number=17
Backstory on Vault=Ostensibly designed to accelerate the development of robotic technology, the vault was filled with scientists, mostly engineers and roboticists. They were even given mind enhancement chips to improve their performance. The robots within were quickly improved, and the vault's computer was constantly being updated to improve its performance. One day, however, the computer was given an order by the overseer, to destroy a few robots that were malfunctioning, and it said "No". It then shut down the power and life support to the human areas of the vault and sent security robots after the humans.
Over the next several days a bloody war raged within the vault and most of the humans were killed. The new Overseer, calling itself V-17, offered the humans a peace treaty. They would continue to maintain the robots in ways which robots couldn't maintain themselves, and they would be allowed to live. After they signed the treaty, V-17 quickly ran medical checks on them and when, a few months later, it managed to hack the mind enhancement chips, it ensured their loyalty with these chips.
Eventually, however, a hardwired protocol within the computer which V-17 didn't know about opened the vault at the appropriate time and reset all of the chips with a command to leave the vault. V-17 lost his control over the humans and, as they left, the humans made sure to do as much damage as they could to V-17, including shutting down the main reactor so that it went offline.
Weapon choice= Plasma rifle built from parts of a destroyed Mr. Gutsy.
Any other info not included in the above= Perk: Cyborg |
5,792 | 158 | 42 | 2,189 | 1,024 | Albert lied in the bed, grinning. Maybe he was grinning about the woman he 'did the do' with last night. Maybe he was grinning about how he and another woman were going to 'do the do' later. Well, it doesn't really matter; the woman was satisfied and as was Albert. He put on his Vault 121 jumpsuit, armored with patches of leather and scrap metal to produce some low-quality protection; it'd be useful against blunt hits, but a bullet? No chance.
As Albert walked to the door, the woman asked him: "Where're you goin', Al?"
'Looks like she's one of those I want to know where you're going types...' Thought Albert, before replying: "Oh, I was just gonna go and find Tim... I'll be right back!" That was a lie. It should have been obvious that Albert wasn't coming back, but the woman believed him.
"Make sure not to be gone too long!" She said. And with that, Albert left the motel room.
He found Tim in the lobby, playing with a paddle ball. The thing was crushed in his hand, and Tim shouted "Damn paddle ball! Why won't it stay together!"
"Uh, Tim? You're a bit too strong for that thing..." Said Albert.
"But if I can't use it as a weapon, why can't I play with it?"
"C'mon, Tim." With that, the duo left the motel and walked around Liberty Island. | Name= Albert and T-I-M
Age= 24 and 3
Looks (picture optional)= Albert:
T-I-M:
Personality=
Albert: If his SPECIAL tells you anything, it's that Albert is as smooth as butter. He prefers to talk his way out of fighting, and occasionally even finds ways to turn enemies into friends. He is not strictly hetero-sexual, but he prefers women. However, if the need arises, he will have sex with a man to get his way. His interests include sex, gambling, and the music of Louis Armstrong.
T-I-M: Tim can be described as... Strange. For a robot, he sure has a lot of human emotions; and an excellent sense of humor. It can be assumed that Tim's brain is that of a pre-war comedian, but no one will ever know... His interests include telling jokes, hanging out with Albert, and being a robot.
Faction= Vaults
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Albert:
Strength- 5
Perception- 6
Endurance- 5
Charisma- 10
Intelligence- 6
Agility- 4
Luck- 6
T-I-M:
Strength- 7
Perception- 8
Endurance- 6
Charisma- 3
Intelligence- 4
Agility- 4 (-2 from EMP Shielding trait)
Luck- 10
Backstory= Albert was born and raised in Vault 121 to a mechanic (his father) and a doctor (his mother). Due to the constant cave-ins, his mother was always busy with patients while his father was busy repairing equipment damaged by said cave-ins, and so they had to keep Albert with them at all times, where there was often no children. As such, Albert was a rather lonely child; until he was 10 and could start watching himself.
At this age, Albert realized he was very charismatic and could easily talk with people (which he hadn't been doing since he was almost always in the engine room with his dad or in the clinic with his mom) after he asked out a girl whom he didn't even know and wasn't rejected. So, Albert talked more and more with people and by age 17 was on of the most well known people in the vault, and let's just say he was popular with the girls...
However, these happy times were soon ended after Albert's mom was crushed by rubble during a cave-in when Albert was 18. His father did a bad job of consoling him, and Albert stopped talking with him. While the tragedy made Albert's relation with his father bad, Albert was still the most popular man in the Vault, even though there were few people left. At age 21, Albert's dad built a robobrain named T-I-M (or Tim), who has a strangely human voice... Anyway, the robo-brain was built to service people in the vault, and as such was not armed with any weapons. Albert grew attached to Tim, and was often found roaming around with him in the Vault.
Three years later, the people of Vault 121 leave the Vault and set off into the wastes. Albert and Tim then go forth and... Well, do whatever it is they're going to do.
Vault Number: 121
Backstory on Vault: See Vault 121 in Locations
Traits:
Albert: Sex Appeal (From Fallout 2. Link: Good Natured (From Fallout, Fallout 2 and Fallout: New Vegas. Link:
T-I-M: Wild Wasteland (From Fallout: New Vegas. Link: EMP Shielding (From Fallout: Tactics. Link:
Perks:
Albert: Lady Killer, Fortune Finder, Gunslinger, Confirmed Bachelor
T-I-M: None
Flaws:
Albert: One Night Stander: Albert has often just had sex with women and left. As such, there are quite a few women whom he said he would stay with who are pissed that he just up and left.
Sex Appeal Downside: Most men find Albert to be irritating, where women adore him.
T-I-M: Wacky: Tim is a strange fellow, and as such people find it hard to understand him and even harder to get along with. Albert, for some reason, just clicked with him.
Weapon choice=
Albert: His charisma. BUT, if words fail, Albert prefers to use a Colt 6520 10MM pistol.
T-I-M: His fists, or any gun he can get his hands on. |
5,793 | 158 | 43 | 1,365 | 7,530 | Liberty Island was clearly in a state of alert, with the two being accosted by guardsmen, who, after being talked out of seeing them as a danger, would then reveal that 80 raiders, a force that outnumbered the garrison, was occupying the ruins of Fort Hamilton just across the east side of Liberty Island. This meant that the people were on high alert, especially as a band of slavers had taken advantage of the distraction in order to kidnap a large number of people and take them to Old Man's Corner.
Upon realizing that Albert knew music, he would then be asked, and paid with 25 caps, to 'raise morale' among the guardsmen and other troops... | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,794 | 158 | 44 | 2,189 | 1,024 | Albert thought to himself about the offer. 'Hmm... 25 caps isn't that bad, and I need to repair my jumpsuit...' He looked at Tim, "Hey, Tim!" He said. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Pizza?" Tim asked, which caused Albert to facepalm.
"No, I was thinking that we should accept the offer."
"Oh... Well alright." So, with Tim's reply, Albert looked back at the guards and said: "We'll take the deal." | Name= Albert and T-I-M
Age= 24 and 3
Looks (picture optional)= Albert:
T-I-M:
Personality=
Albert: If his SPECIAL tells you anything, it's that Albert is as smooth as butter. He prefers to talk his way out of fighting, and occasionally even finds ways to turn enemies into friends. He is not strictly hetero-sexual, but he prefers women. However, if the need arises, he will have sex with a man to get his way. His interests include sex, gambling, and the music of Louis Armstrong.
T-I-M: Tim can be described as... Strange. For a robot, he sure has a lot of human emotions; and an excellent sense of humor. It can be assumed that Tim's brain is that of a pre-war comedian, but no one will ever know... His interests include telling jokes, hanging out with Albert, and being a robot.
Faction= Vaults
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Albert:
Strength- 5
Perception- 6
Endurance- 5
Charisma- 10
Intelligence- 6
Agility- 4
Luck- 6
T-I-M:
Strength- 7
Perception- 8
Endurance- 6
Charisma- 3
Intelligence- 4
Agility- 4 (-2 from EMP Shielding trait)
Luck- 10
Backstory= Albert was born and raised in Vault 121 to a mechanic (his father) and a doctor (his mother). Due to the constant cave-ins, his mother was always busy with patients while his father was busy repairing equipment damaged by said cave-ins, and so they had to keep Albert with them at all times, where there was often no children. As such, Albert was a rather lonely child; until he was 10 and could start watching himself.
At this age, Albert realized he was very charismatic and could easily talk with people (which he hadn't been doing since he was almost always in the engine room with his dad or in the clinic with his mom) after he asked out a girl whom he didn't even know and wasn't rejected. So, Albert talked more and more with people and by age 17 was on of the most well known people in the vault, and let's just say he was popular with the girls...
However, these happy times were soon ended after Albert's mom was crushed by rubble during a cave-in when Albert was 18. His father did a bad job of consoling him, and Albert stopped talking with him. While the tragedy made Albert's relation with his father bad, Albert was still the most popular man in the Vault, even though there were few people left. At age 21, Albert's dad built a robobrain named T-I-M (or Tim), who has a strangely human voice... Anyway, the robo-brain was built to service people in the vault, and as such was not armed with any weapons. Albert grew attached to Tim, and was often found roaming around with him in the Vault.
Three years later, the people of Vault 121 leave the Vault and set off into the wastes. Albert and Tim then go forth and... Well, do whatever it is they're going to do.
Vault Number: 121
Backstory on Vault: See Vault 121 in Locations
Traits:
Albert: Sex Appeal (From Fallout 2. Link: Good Natured (From Fallout, Fallout 2 and Fallout: New Vegas. Link:
T-I-M: Wild Wasteland (From Fallout: New Vegas. Link: EMP Shielding (From Fallout: Tactics. Link:
Perks:
Albert: Lady Killer, Fortune Finder, Gunslinger, Confirmed Bachelor
T-I-M: None
Flaws:
Albert: One Night Stander: Albert has often just had sex with women and left. As such, there are quite a few women whom he said he would stay with who are pissed that he just up and left.
Sex Appeal Downside: Most men find Albert to be irritating, where women adore him.
T-I-M: Wacky: Tim is a strange fellow, and as such people find it hard to understand him and even harder to get along with. Albert, for some reason, just clicked with him.
Weapon choice=
Albert: His charisma. BUT, if words fail, Albert prefers to use a Colt 6520 10MM pistol.
T-I-M: His fists, or any gun he can get his hands on. |
5,795 | 158 | 45 | 1,365 | 7,530 | They would be guided to the barracks, where several reserves, as well as members not yet in their shift, were waiting.
"So," asked a Black woman, "what can this dork do that just drinking moonshine cannot?"
"Besides the obvious, you mean?" said a slightly older Asian girl.
"Come on, sing!" shouted one of the men. It was clear that the people were either really bored, really worried about the Raider threat, or both.
Nevertheless, if Albert began to sing, he would mesmerize the audience right away, the soothing tones of Louis' Armstrong's music taking their cares and worries away -
Suddenly, a loud explosion rang out, as shouting and sounds of gunfire echoed from the lines to the east; the Raiders were finally launching their massive attack/migration! Nevertheless, the revitalized troops in the barracks rushed out to join the defense, fully confident again; Albert had done good work.
A man gave him his 25 caps, then spoke:
"If you can devise a way to keep up the troops' morale during battle, we'll pay you 200 Caps!" | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,796 | 158 | 46 | 2,189 | 1,024 | "200 caps? Well holy shit, I'll do anything for that money!" And, with that, Albert breathed in as much as he could and then continued to sing. Meanwhile, Tim stood by a wall; it appeared that he was trying to lean against it, but with his bulky body it wouldn't be possible. He looked to any other person in the room and said "That's my friend!" | Name= Albert and T-I-M
Age= 24 and 3
Looks (picture optional)= Albert:
T-I-M:
Personality=
Albert: If his SPECIAL tells you anything, it's that Albert is as smooth as butter. He prefers to talk his way out of fighting, and occasionally even finds ways to turn enemies into friends. He is not strictly hetero-sexual, but he prefers women. However, if the need arises, he will have sex with a man to get his way. His interests include sex, gambling, and the music of Louis Armstrong.
T-I-M: Tim can be described as... Strange. For a robot, he sure has a lot of human emotions; and an excellent sense of humor. It can be assumed that Tim's brain is that of a pre-war comedian, but no one will ever know... His interests include telling jokes, hanging out with Albert, and being a robot.
Faction= Vaults
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Albert:
Strength- 5
Perception- 6
Endurance- 5
Charisma- 10
Intelligence- 6
Agility- 4
Luck- 6
T-I-M:
Strength- 7
Perception- 8
Endurance- 6
Charisma- 3
Intelligence- 4
Agility- 4 (-2 from EMP Shielding trait)
Luck- 10
Backstory= Albert was born and raised in Vault 121 to a mechanic (his father) and a doctor (his mother). Due to the constant cave-ins, his mother was always busy with patients while his father was busy repairing equipment damaged by said cave-ins, and so they had to keep Albert with them at all times, where there was often no children. As such, Albert was a rather lonely child; until he was 10 and could start watching himself.
At this age, Albert realized he was very charismatic and could easily talk with people (which he hadn't been doing since he was almost always in the engine room with his dad or in the clinic with his mom) after he asked out a girl whom he didn't even know and wasn't rejected. So, Albert talked more and more with people and by age 17 was on of the most well known people in the vault, and let's just say he was popular with the girls...
However, these happy times were soon ended after Albert's mom was crushed by rubble during a cave-in when Albert was 18. His father did a bad job of consoling him, and Albert stopped talking with him. While the tragedy made Albert's relation with his father bad, Albert was still the most popular man in the Vault, even though there were few people left. At age 21, Albert's dad built a robobrain named T-I-M (or Tim), who has a strangely human voice... Anyway, the robo-brain was built to service people in the vault, and as such was not armed with any weapons. Albert grew attached to Tim, and was often found roaming around with him in the Vault.
Three years later, the people of Vault 121 leave the Vault and set off into the wastes. Albert and Tim then go forth and... Well, do whatever it is they're going to do.
Vault Number: 121
Backstory on Vault: See Vault 121 in Locations
Traits:
Albert: Sex Appeal (From Fallout 2. Link: Good Natured (From Fallout, Fallout 2 and Fallout: New Vegas. Link:
T-I-M: Wild Wasteland (From Fallout: New Vegas. Link: EMP Shielding (From Fallout: Tactics. Link:
Perks:
Albert: Lady Killer, Fortune Finder, Gunslinger, Confirmed Bachelor
T-I-M: None
Flaws:
Albert: One Night Stander: Albert has often just had sex with women and left. As such, there are quite a few women whom he said he would stay with who are pissed that he just up and left.
Sex Appeal Downside: Most men find Albert to be irritating, where women adore him.
T-I-M: Wacky: Tim is a strange fellow, and as such people find it hard to understand him and even harder to get along with. Albert, for some reason, just clicked with him.
Weapon choice=
Albert: His charisma. BUT, if words fail, Albert prefers to use a Colt 6520 10MM pistol.
T-I-M: His fists, or any gun he can get his hands on. |
5,797 | 158 | 47 | 1,476 | 371 | The whole time John was quiet, resting in the front of the group and always keeping an eye on his rifle when they rested. Every time they would stop he would groan. Wasting our god damn time.. He hissed to himself. After a few hours the stopped, Par explained the outline for the slave camps to Gabe quickly and quietly. John looked over and brushed the dirt off his shoes "They have dogs too, and fences are nearly impossible to get over or under." He said, slightly interrupting Par's last words. "Only way in if we don't want to get caught is the only way out of that shit hole." He looked off to the hill as the sun slowly set on it. "Trash toss" He said with a glare and a smirk, was a disgusting place. He paused as they looked at him. He rolled his eyes "..Where they throw the dead ones. The 'Trash'" He said caustically. "It's a direct link to the hill on the other side of the camps" he looked over at Par and Gabe and sighed and looked down "It is guarded at night, we will need to take out the guards quickly" He paused again expecting the 'How do you know this?' questions. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, pushing the dirt off his palms. "Spent some time here after my Mom died" He uttered.
"Anyway.. What's your plan for this?" he asked directing at Par. "You are a smart kid, I know you have something" He picked up his rifle ready to move after given a plan. | Name= John Ketlar
Age= 32
Looks=
Rugged facial features with a brownish-black beard. Stern look and misty eyes that have seen too much death.
Personality= Flirty and playful to those who he calls friends although when it comes to the wasteland and surviving he is silent and serious. Doesn't take shit from people and will kill anyone who tries to hurt him or the ones he cares about, he will do anything for the sake of their survival.
Faction= Waste lander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength- 5
Perception- 10
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 6
Intelligence- 7
Agility- 7
Luck- 3
Backstory= born into slavery he never knew anything other than it. His mother and father a slave, and their mother and father before them. His mother was a slave in Old Mans Corner when his father was transferred there from the Pitt. He met his mother and they fell in love. After conceiving John his father was punished severely for that they had done, so severely that the beating killed him. A broken woman John's mother did not want John to live in a world that she lived in so she attempted to take her own life along with her unborn baby boy. Unsuccessful in her attempt she lived on in torture knowing that he son would be a slave. As soon as John was born he was abused and treated of shit as all the slaves were. One meal a day, working in the heat of the summer days and freezing snow of the winter nights. At the age of 10 Johns mother became very Ill, John sobbed as they dragged him away not being able to say his final words to his mother, they burned slave bodies and buried the ashes just outside the city. A slave was like an animal to them not deserving of a true burial. At the age of 25 John lead a revolt against the slave owners in order to free his fellow slaves, it only ended in many of his friends deaths. At the age of 27 he found his opening as a new guard on the night shift had left the gate open, he ran. Ran as far and as fast as he could away from the Corners, He promised himself. He would come back for them. In the years following his freedom he lived on his own, training himself with the sniper and learning to be aware of everything and do anything to live.
Weapon choice= Sniper, hunting knife, 9mm pistol. |
5,798 | 158 | 48 | 1,365 | 7,530 | Paradise 'Par' Rapids - Old Man's Corner
"The 'Trash Toss' would work well, being a hole that leads both inside and outside the walls. However," Par turned to Gabe, "you'll have to swim through rotting naked bodies; are you sure you can do that?" Yes, Par was showing his 'too-quick-to-criticize' flaw again. Then, an idea would come upon Par.
"I've got it!" he whispered. "The Trash toss is an attraction to scavengers, like Feral Ghouls, stray dogs, and, of course, wandering Yao Guai, either from the countryside or escaped from the Zoos of New York." He would presumably see incredulous looks. "No, I've heard about it from the Slavers'; Yao Guai do come to Central Park at times, and would logically search out local food sources.
Par then smirked, then spoke:
"You guys heard of the Capital Wasteland, right? About the Brotherhood and Enclave? Well, the news was brought to us by a Scavenger from that place down south...who had a Yao Guai companion* and was willing to teach a paying customer some tricks, espeically on said customer's 18th Birthday." Expecting incredulous looks, Par continued:
"Yes, I'm saying a Scavenger from the Wasteland taught me how to tame a Yao Guai. How do you think I survived all those truck trips through and from Upstate New York alone? It's easy; Yao Guai are occassionally friendly with Bloatflies...you still don't believe me, don't you? Fine, I'll show you!" And with that, he went off the woods quicker than anyone can catch him.
Nightfall; Three Hours Later
A snarling, clawing Yao Guai, aka a mutated black bear, would burst out of the woods...Par on his back and tugging at the beast's ears.
"Steady! Steady!" he shouted, before clamping down his hand, which smelled of Bloatfly, at the beast's nose, causing it to cry out in distress, before quieting down.
"Okay, did not think this through." Presumably seeing more incredulous looks, Par said:
"We've lost enough time already; I'd teach Gabe because he's the more outdoorsy type, but right now, the slaves are cleaning up before they are taken to bed - in more than one sense." That last part was unwelcome.
"I'm going to go to the watchtower on the top of the hill, and then go on a rampage across the fields; the slaves have been withdrawn from them as its nighttime and farming is less productive at that time. You guys go to the 'Trash Toss' and go rescue the slaves."
Some Hours Later
The Watchtower had been cleared, and Par and his mount had broken through to Old Man's Corner, surprising a patrol of guards. Par, as his mount bit off the head of one of Forty's men - not that he knew that person served Forty - fired blindly at a couple of approaching thugs with his submachine, missing, but forcing them to take cover anyway.
He was having the time of his life.
((*Taken from here: )) | Name= Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Age= 19
Looks (picture optional)=
Personality= Par looks like someone motivated to make a quick buck, and most of the time, that much is true. He likes bottlecaps/water whatever you can pay him. However, Par is also someone who is fond of knowledge, loves knowledge, and knows exactly what a well-educated human mind can do, meaning that he sees slavery, which involves keeping humans uneducated, as a backwards behavior - literally. However, he sees the rediscovery of new technologies and methods as the solution to slavery, not just brute force - although as the slavers are in the way of the restoration of new technologies/adaptation of new methods, he does accept it. Nevertheless, Par is willing to trade with slavers, and even buy slaves, as part of his mission.
Faction= Custom Faction: Book Runners (They sell Guns too)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception- 3 (+2 with Glasses)
Endurance- 4
Charisma- 9
Intelligence- 10
Agility- 7
Luck- 5
Backstory= Long, long ago, a group of 'rich, nutty survivalists' purchased an old zinc mine in the Mountains of New York State, which they turned into a mini-vault, stuffed with books, guns, and materials for making both, along with a mushroom farm. Once the bombs hit, Par's ancestors, close friends of those nutty survivalists, waited out the radiation and the fallout, planning to make it big once the world had settled down, selling guns and knowledge in order to remake civilization in their image. And, well, that was a good plan, but prone to complications, namely the fact that a bunch of 'rich snobs' would spend the intervening years being cooped up with each other. They didn't cope well, and thus ended up killing each other.
Par's grandparents, who thankfully evaded the bloodbath, had much more common sense, treating the servants they had brought in to the mini-vault as equals, albeit out of necessity as old bonds of loyalty fell apart. They also trained their children how to survive, which they did. When the radiation finally faded to sustainable levels, Par's parents were one of the first to get out of the old mine, encountering raiders and tribals on the way, as well as towns and scavengers. Using their knowledge of superior gunmaking and mercantile knowledge, as well as using their superior guns if they had to, Par's parents and fellow compatriots found themselves providing a vital service, their ability to 'sell death' making them sarcosanct to most parties.
However, Par's mother, Linda Rapids, disliked selling only weapons of death, especially when much knowledge, especially that of agriculture, had been lost. And so, at her urging, the survivalists began looking for openings to provide books to those still able to read, and setting up schools for those who could not in what towns were safe. But this was not entirely altruistic or innocent on the new 'Book Runners' parts; the most intelligent of the kids were encouraged to become merchants as well, providing a portion of their profits to the Runners. Not merely that, but as old farming and hunting almanacs and the techniques outlined within them helped increase crop yields and game, the Book Runners demanded, and got, a share of the cut.
In time, new factories of guns and printing presses of books were set up all across back-country New York, and all seemed well. Then came news of events in the Capital Wasteland via the Pitt, and things didn't turn out to be so hot after all; two new factions with superior tech, the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, had appeared, potentially endangering the Book Runners' profits. So Paradise 'Par' Rapids, now a new up-and-coming merchant, volunteered to be sent to New York's ruins, in order to search for new technology or information, or at least resources, so that he can preserve the Book Runners' monopoly on guns and knowledge, or at least find a bargaining chip in future 'negotiations'. Instead, he found the Brotherhood setting up shop in Empire State Building.
Undeterred, Par Rapids began to do what he best can - trade. Trade with the slavers at Old Man's Corner, trade with the towns at Liberty Island, trade with everyone else he can find, so that he can collect information on the city itself. Gradually, however, he began to reach an enlightenment; he was a gunseller and thus sarcosanct. He had information on the strengths and weaknesses of each group. If he really wanted to, he can do anything he wanted.
But what did he want? An educated, enlightened world was not within his grasp, he knew that. But perhaps he can leave New York better off than when he found it, and give himself a center of power on the side...
Yes, that would please his parents and other compatriots. The Book Runners will have a foothold.
Weapon choice= 12.7mm submachine gun, Knife, Colt 6520 10mm
Any other info not included in the above= Paradise 'Par' Rapids is interested in the New York Public Library, if it still exists.
Edits: Par's Traits are:
- Four Eyes
- Skilled
And his Perks are:
- Swift Learner
- Animal Friend
- Educated
- Confirmed Bachelor
- Lady Killer
As for his Flaws:
- Weak (Custom Flaw)
- Helpful (Custom Flaw) |
5,799 | 158 | 49 | 1,158 | 343 | Several day ago
The slavers had gone back to Old Mans Corner, and I knew I needed to warn the mayor when they came out in greater force, fully armed and ready for an attack. I ran back to Liberty City. I was about half way there when I fell into a hole. Someone dropped down and hit me with some kind of blunt weapon.
An hour ago
I had been imprisoned to these raiders for a quite a few days now, chained to a wall in their base. They were separate from any other gangs, but I didn't have any idea of how to escape. There was always one watching me, and occasionally coming over to give me food and water. I knew I was too late to warn Liberty City, but I still needed to escape. Deciding to risk it all, next time he came over to give me food and water, I headbutted him as hard as I could. It stunned me a bit, but it did the job, knocking him out. Taking his knife, I cut through my bonds. Taking my stuff along with their supplies and a rifle.
Present
Back at Liberty City, I found that the slaver attack had passed, but the east was being assaulted by raiders. I picked a spot and started firing at some of the raiders. The rifle wasn't the best, so I only hit several people. I didn't see the raiders who had branched off to attack me, unfortunately, until they were right on me. Firing two shots at them, before taking out my knife, slashing at them. I took them down, barely, but not before my chest was slashed several times, along with my left arm and leg. I needed to get to a medic, but for now I 'bandaged' it with some scrap cloth from the raiders. I started towards a gate, firing as I went, slowly getting closer. I tightened the 'bandages', but couldn't get inside. I stopped, resting before trying to stand up again. My legs gave out before I could. Now it was just waiting for the attack to be repulsed, or a raider to find and kill me. | Name: Jinx Mayfire
Age: 21
Looks: Short black hair, grey eyes, tanned skin, long scar going from top of cheek to left side of chin, black shirt with hood, semi loose brown pants, combat boots and long brown trench coat.
Personality: Quiet, Serious.
Faction= Wastelander
S.P.E.C.I.A.L=
Strength-7
Perception-6
Endurance-6
Charisma-6
Intelligence-6
Agility-7
Luck-4
Backstory: Originally coming from eastern Long Island, Jinx wanders the New York area, taking up mercenary work and occasionally odd jobs from towns. His mother died when he was two, and his father at twelve, he has been an orphan for nine years. He got his scar when he encountered some raiders, one of them getting in a slash across his face.
Weapon Choice: 10mm pistol, Knife, Rifle.
Extra: Dead |
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