Characters

welsh

welsh

Junkmaster
There has been some discussion on an OCC about characters, so this is for all of you who have a character that you want to tell us about.

It's not essential that you post here, so use as you will.

My Character- Grim (or Grimm)

Grim is a former lawman (a "badge') who is currently working as a bounty hunter/head hunter. He usually works alone and is reluctant to join groups, not very trusting, often mean-tempered and, on occassion, ruthless. Preferring stealth over brawn, and brains over brawn, Grim is fond of planning ahead. A bit of a conspiracy theorist, trust is given rarely and in short measure. He doesn't place much faith in associations or governments of any kind. However, his history of being an 'honest' lawman and sense of principles allow him some faith in the dignity of normal people and hope in a better life. He also appreciates ancient literature.

Grim is getting 'mature', but is age is indeterminante. probably somewhere between 35 and 45. He wears a leather duster and sometimes a suit of leather armor, jeans, boots, a hat or scarf, and carries with him an .45 6-shooter and a modified 10 mm automatic pistol (that can be altered into a silenced subsonic rifle) as well as an assortment of knives, shotguns, rifles and other weapons as suits his mood.

Family- unknown,
Friends- unknown.
 
Name: Rogue
Real Name: Laura (Likes to keep her real name private)
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Occupation: Mostly searching for her family. Will some times take on caravan guard jobs to make money to fund her search.
Family: Dead...she thinks.

Physical appearance
Eyes: Deep green eyes
Hair: Long black hair
Height: 1m76
Weight: She doesnt know
Complection: Dark like complection
Rogue is not a well built person but she has great strength for somone of her size. She is agile and quiet on her feet at the best of times.

Personality
After many a year wandering the wastes, Rogue has become a very solitary women. Previous experiances in her earlier life have taught her to put her trust in no one but her self. She doesnt like yo rely on other people but will do in times of need. In another life, she would have been of the innocent sort. Even though she doesnt like to admit it, she ofetn needs help and can be quite prone to tantrums!

Weopons: She carry's little weopons with her, only the necessary to survive in the wastes. She allways carryies a hunting rifle(for she can be a great shot when the need arises), her .223 which is her most belovid weopon and the only link to her father that she has left and a combat knife. Rogue is most reluctant to use the .223 as she sees it more as a link to the past than a weopon.

Items: Once again only the necessary equipment to survive. Some medical equipment; stimpacks, first aid kit, some rad away and the odd body enhancement drugs that she has scavenged on her many journeys. Some money, that she has made in the only 2 ways in which she knows how! A bottle of unknown alcoholic substance, that she is not really shure what to do with...but thaught she would keep it anyway. A photo of her stood next to a house in the wastes that she found with her when she awoke for the first time with out her family. She wanders the wastes looking for this house hoping that she will find some trace of her former life. She also carry's Re-fill anumitions for both of her guns.

Clothing: Rogue wears a dark torn coat that reachers her ankles. The coat she prosumes has been made from bramin and is light in weight.
She wears a pair of dark trousers made from some unknown material and a pair of heavy boots that look like army regulation wear. Under her coat she wears a leather vest that she has patched up and personslised so that it pases vertually un noticed to the human eye. She wears tatered clothes under the rest that she has had for aslong as she can remember.

Well..there we are, this is pretty much it, there are a few extra details about her but i wont go into them now, this profile is long enough
 
I want to keep motives and deep background hidden for now. For the first time since I began role-playing, I am trying to play a vaguely mysterious character. These details will become clear IC later on.

However, things that other characters would notice about him anyway may as well be revealed now so they can at least describe him in a post should the need arise.

Name-
Gabriel Wolf

Physical appearance-

Height: 6'3"
Hair: Blond - collar length, a little unkempt
Eyes: Blue/grey, very (cliched but good anyway) cold
Weight: 200lbs approx - not a wrestler style muscle man but very fit looking with good muscle tone.
Age: 29

Clothes- general wear (travelling gear stored at lodgings)

Black combat trousers, black boots, black knee-length suede coat, black and dark grey camouflage kevlar vest over a fitted black long-sleeve cotton top (almost skin-tight).

Weaponry- all concealed under the suede coat (however, skilled observers who know weapons and combat, like the other characters, may detect the suggestion of some hidden weapons)

Several knives: 18" panga on the left hip, 6 throwing knives in a shoulder rig - 3 on each side, 8" Bowie knife on left calf in a boot-sheath (black, matte finished handle to help conceal it against black material of trousers), 3" punch dagger in small purpose built sheath on front of belt (looks just like another part of the belt), 7" tanto (Japanese knife - smallest of the Samurai trio of blades).

Guns: Twin 9mm, Berettas with removable silencers, (extended barrels for increased accuracy) resting in twin reverse holsters above each hip. Also, new addition (not always carried as standard) SiG Sauer P226 with built in baffle silencer, can be equipped with removable silencer ultra-stealth, optional 20 round magazines (holstered at small of back).

For those who remember the film Leon, imagine something like his leather equipment harness - Gabriel's will, of course, be black leather.

Important note: translated into the old Fallout speak- he is a stealth/combat boy and will therefore be difficult to notice because he is stealthy and his clothing helps him fade into the shadows - indoors though he would probably be noticeable because he is dangerous looking man dressed all in black.

This sounds very superheroish and I apologise because this shouldn't be about superguys (although our exploits so far make most characters heroes of the wastes). For an idea of my character, think of an Aryan combination of Riddick from Pitch Black (brilliant film) and Leon - though not as good in a gun fight as Leon because Gabe is hand-to-hand specialist.
 
Cut and paste version from the old boards since I'm incredibly lazy:

Name: Caleb Rutgers
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Faction: Strongly anti-political sentiments
Skin: remarkably smooth and pale
Weight: 140 pounds
Height: 6'3
Age: 50
Clothing: Basic cowboy's attire: black jeans, collar shirt, leather vest, widebrimmed hat. Never wears armor because it slows him down. Normally wears a bandanna tied over his mouth to cover his identity and block the sun. ALWAYS wears his customized gunslinger's leather belt. Is known to use shotguns, knives, old fashioned rifles, and bolt-action rifles. Will ALWAYS wear his two Colt Peacemaker revolvers in his holsters.

BIO:
Caleb Rutgers. He is an elderly man of fifty years and should have been well passed his wandering years. But for all his age, he holds himself up with a demeanor of a much younger man. He stands at a humble six feet in height but the worn, heels of his cowboy boots and spurs accentuate his height another three inches. He is dressed in a historical western hostler's clothes: black jeans, a faded workshirt, tanned leather vest, and completed with a widebrimmed cowboy hat. He wears a bandanna over his mouth in a robber’s fashion to block the sun. His huge leather belt, with a bright silver buckle in the shape of a star, is lined with slots to hold his bullets and each side ends in a custom-tailored holster. Occupying each leather carrier is a massive revolver with a long barrel: a Colt Peacemaker. The two monstrosites weigh down each side of the belt, sagging them down low to his thighs in a gunslinger's fashion. There are at least sixty cartridges lining his belt, heavily oiled to keep them clean. Most of the bullets are capped and crafted by his own hands. Stuck into the side of his left boot is a Bowie knife with a razor sharp edge and hand guard. Slung over his shoulder, suspended by a leather strap, is an old model Winchester rifle chambered with the same .45 calibered bullets of his pistols.

Caleb is lucky for a man his age. His face is completely devoid of wrinkles and has the perpetual softness of a baby's skin. His hair is completely white but still possesses a glossy shine. He allows it to grow out long so it fringes the side of his head and covers the nape of his neck. Caleb has the icy, pale blue eyes of a bombardier and anyone catching his gaze will feel like their entire soul is being penetrated. His clever hands have been saved by the pains of arthritis but occaisonally shakes horribly when the weather is cold.

Though he dresses as a man of a different era, Caleb is altogether familiar with the pains of the modern world. His grandfather served as an army Ranger before being sent home when he was critically wounded in the skirmishes against the Chinese army on the Alaskian warfront. For his bravery and ninety confirmed kills in the war, his grandfather and his family is given a place in one of the few built vaults around the world. When the nukes have fallen and the world has fallen alongside it, Caleb and his family are still well and alive. For his entire childhood, he is taught in survival under the tutelage of his grandfather and is raised on the fantastic tales of old Western shooters. This has visibly impacted him, evident by his appearance. When the vaults opened after a preliminary time in darkness, Caleb is sent out as one of the scouts. He wanders about, enchanted by the rough frontier similar to the Wild West, and never returns back to the vault. Ever since, he has been traveling about with the tales of the Lone Ranger kept close to his heart.

In relation to our time, Caleb has the cold eyes of a young Clint Eastwood, the easy western drawl of John Wayne, the regal long hair of Richard Harris, and the lightly wrinkled face of Sir Alec Guinesses. Historically, he has the honor bound ethics of Wyatt Earp, the frontiersman attitude of Wild Bill Hickock, and the sophisticated upbringing of Doc Holliday.
 
Name: Rudy Kafka
Age: 21

Description: A tall brown haired man with dark green eyes. He is always seen wearing his light brown leather jacket, dusty blue jeans, and black combat boots. Slung over his shoulder is a dark green duffel bag in which he keeps anything he happens to find.

Personality: Rudy grew up in one of the few "Vault Cities" that actually survived. He thinks he knows everything there is to know about the waste as he learned all about the outside world by watching old holo-vids that he found inside the vault. Having seen some of the old pre-war movies and hereing tales of the few wanderers that were let into the city, he decided that his place was out in the world seeking adventure. So he grapped what he could from his fathers general store and left. Most would consider Rudy extremely nieve, and they would not be completely correct. Along side his nievity is a slightly skewed view of reality. In some ways he considers himself the same as his favorite heros of the old vids he used to watch. However this isn't always a bad thing as he shows very little fear in battle.

Items: HIdden inside his jacket is an old Glok 9mm that used to belong to his grandfather. Inside his duffel bag are all the items he's scavanged, these include a few stimpacks, a couple pistols, an SMG, some rations of food, a canteen, ammo for more guns than he has and a rocket launcher (sans rocket).

Combat: Rudy trained himself to use a gun and he's actaully become quite good, however when it comes to hand to hand and melee he has had his ass handed to him in many different bars across the waste. As for the more exotic weapons, Rudy has never even laid eyes on an energy weapon
 
Name: Virgil Black

Race: Ghoul

Gender: Male

Hair: Black. Full head of it (strange for a ghoul), cut short, and usually a bit messy.

Age: Was in his early-mid twenties at the time of the war

Height: 5'10"

Weight: Approx. 165 lbs

Eyes: Green

Skin: Ash-greyish color. Bony-looking face, and covered with scars, mostly from radiation burns. Obviously a ghoul from sight, but not as malformed as some ghouls.

Voice: Gravelly and a bit raspy, but clear and articulate.

Clothing: Wears mostly dark leather over all of his body up to his neck. Always wears leather gloves. Keeps a kevlar vest beneath his shirt. Heavy walking boots.

Weapons: Profficient with both small arms and energy weapons. Carries a plasma pistol at his hip that he picked up a long time ago, as well as a Colt .45 automatic in a rear holster on his back, beneath his jacket. Usually takes a rifle with him when he travels. Keeps a switchblade in his coat pocket.

Misc: Regularly smokes cigars, and carries an old zippo lighter.

Bio:
Virgil Black is originally from, Alaska, where he worked as a computer technician. With the military buildup of both American and Chinese forces at the Alaskan front towards the end of the war, the area was hit heavily when the bombs fell. Being one of the few people to survive, and one of even fewer ghouls, he found himself having to walk down south to avoid the harsh northern winter out alone in the wastes. Have no roots any longer, he wandered from town to town fort quite some time (at least those who would accept him) on foot or horseback.
His prior career gives him a solid grounding in working with computers and electronic or mechanical equipment, and his surprising profficiency with energy weapons suggests that he had some sort of military training before the war. He also possesses a number of skills that were commonplace before the war, but may have become more forgotten or less useful, such as driving a car, reading, etc...
Though he had been a relatively peaceful man as a normal human, the stresses of existing on his own has made his ways change significantly, and he has thus become much harder as a person, but still maintains a great deal of wisdom with his age, and is unlikely to just run into a fight, often making sure to think things out. Harsh as he is, as all wasteland drifters are, he still has a sense of morality.
Unlike many ghouls, he isn't a weak person who accepts being a victim of their circumstance.
 
Name: Jim
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Occupation: Wanderer.

Physical appearance
Eyes: Dark blue eyes
Hair: Short blond
Height: 1m85

Weapons: Jim can use almost any kind of weapon, but he favors small arms. His personal favorite is a Gauss pistol, when he can get ammo for it that is. He also carries a Mauser with him, something he picked up during his travels. Also has some concealed weapons which are unknown for now. :wink:

Items: Some stimpaks, a pouch of radX and rad away, a canteen, various pieces of tech (a broken Pipboy, a Geiger counter and various small parts), some maps, and some extra ammo.

Clothing: Jim is wearing a large hooded cloche, which conceals all his stuff and what he’s wearing underneath. There are some small bullet holes in it and while he’s walking in the sun you can see a faint red glow coming through them.

Personal story: Jim was born in a small village, which was situated close to the council of the all knowing. His father was a stranger who came by one day, fucked his mom and then left. Prewar things and places have always fascinated Jim. Not being allowed to enter the council, which was so close by, only stimulated his curiosity and got him into trouble. Jim has a natural ability to repair stuff, for some reason he’s really good at it. Must be something he got from his father.

When Jim was old enough he was forced to leave the village and he started wandering the wastes.

(More will unfold in the story)
 
Name:Blade
Age:25
Gender:Male
Occupation:U.S. Marine(Discharged)

6 ft. 4 in. tall
Buzz Cut (Brown Hair)
Brown Eyes

Blade can carry any weapon, favors rifles. Mutants attacked the base he was stationed at. Killing all personnel except Blade. Now Blade is reduced to wandering the wasteland. He was born in Texas. His family was forced to move to California after the nuclear blast. He was named Blade because his parents wanted him to have a radical name. He is now a mercenary/ bounty hunter.

Weapons
M-16
Colt .45
Ka-Bar Knife

Clothing:
Always camoflauge fatigues
Military boots

Other Inventory(Nothing relating to weapons)
Rope
Shovel
Digital Watch
 
Name : Buffy
Race: Human
Favorite Drink: Nuka-Cola, warm and flat.
Age: 21
Former Occupation: Bartender

Physical Charecteristics
Eyes: a strong hazel
Heigth: 5'7"
Weigth: 109
Hair: Flowing blonde, but not a glowing blonde like the other girls have.
Gender: Female

Buffy likes to travel in a navy blue trench coat that was passed on to her by her mother. But many unperceptive people would be fooled by her apperence, because underneath the trench coat she keeps a collectors edition of a combat knife (also named "Little Jesus", she picked it up in this weird town off this guy she banged.) , Pancor JackHammer slinged over her back with a strap, dual .223 pistols in black suede holsters on each of her hips, dual desert eagles on brown suede holsters located under her underarms, and a spiked knuckle in her breast pocket if things get close. She also has steel toed boots for that extra punch, some people may consider it cheating, but she just thinks of it as a way to deliver more bone crushing damage.

Buffy's goal in life is to start up her own bar or something like that, some kind of buisness she runs. Just like her father before her. She couldn't remember her name, but it was something like Cassey, or something like that. But shortley after she was born he died of heart attack, and her mother died during birth, she was left with her fathers traveling companion, Vic. She learned how to repair things, and eventually wandered away from home. Now she is traveling the wastes hoping to stop all of the bloodshed and settled down and start her own buisness.
 
Name: Gruug
Real Name: Unknown
Age:94(and as active as if he were 60 again!)
Gender: Male
Race: Super Mutant
Occupation: Did work for the master, realised his wrong, and is now out to try and help the Wastes as best he can
Family: More than likely dead
Physical Appearance: He looks quite big, just topping 9 ft, but you can almost sense that behind that black skin on his face, that he was just smiling at you....
Eyes: Dark green
Hair: None
Height: 9 ft 2 inches
Weight: Hard to tell
Skin Color: Pitch Black

Gruug is quite smaller than most Super Mutants, although he makes up for it in his larger brainal capacity, thusly, he is a lot more intelligent than most Super Mutants

Personality: I will give a bit of it away, but the rest is to find out yourself. He tries to greet everyone openly, no matter who they are. He is a very helpfull person, that is, when people let him help.
He does not really like slavers, as it sort of reminds him of what he helped do to the pure humans.

Weaponry:
Gruug carries a custom made Kalashinikov, twice as big as the usual ones, and with the trigger guard gone. He also has some spiked steel knuckles on his left hand, and an array of crude looking meele weapons hanging from a belt around his mid section. You can't tell, but it looks like he has some grenades of sorts hanging out of various pockets along the horizontal strap.
The Kalashinikov hangs from a strap down Gruug's back.

Items:
He always carries a big back pack on top of his Kalashinikov, although the backpack is situated so he can draw the Kalashinikov if the need arises. He carries some grenades, and strangely, you think you see... No way... Books in his backpack.
He also seems to be carrying some stims and a few super stims, and from the looks, one ultra stim.

Clothing:
He is wearing a sort of custom made mutant armor, with metal plating around the torso, leather which is reinforced with strips of sheetmetal bits on his legs, but wearing nothing on his arms.

There we go, that just about wraps up Gruug, now time to post.
 
Real Name: Jonathan Davis
Alias: Syphon
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 164 lbs.
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: Light Tan
Voice Type: Deep Alto/Light Bartitone
Blood Type: O-

Occupation: Scavenger/Drifter
Family: Dead
Family Origin (hertige): Scotland, Italy and Germany

Physical Appearance: Syphon is a tall, but Lanky fellow. He is quite handsome, compared to the normal wasteland man. He has black spiked hair, and a eye brow peircing on his left brow. Syphon has many tatoos on his shoulder to his forearms, from scribbles to religious references.

Personality: Syphon is a pretty shady character, but is loyal and fair to one's he care about. He can be crude at sometimes, and sometimes he can be passionate. He's pretty much a thrill seeker and fun guy to be around.

Clothing Syphon wears baggy blue jeans, with combat boots and a dirty white t-shirt with black fingerless gloves. Over his clothing, Leather armor lays. It's pretty much made up of leather rags, and the occasional metal wiring. Metal chains hang from the shoulder pads, which give him an intimdating look.

Weaponry: Two 9mm pistols, Sawed-off Shotgun (pistol handle) and M219 Bolt-action Rifle. He also carrys a baseball bat, slung around his shoulder with a strap.

Items:
x9 Stimpacks, 24x Metal Shotgun slugs, 64x 9mm JHP rounds, 21x .219 rounds, Zippo Lighter, Cigarette Pack, and some Catpaw's Magazine all carried in a satchel strung over his shoulder.
 
Since I'm interested in joining in, I'll write up a character description, please, tell me when an option to enter comes up(although I could think of some easy ways for this character). Also, if you don't like how I design this character or make some design faults, please say something.....

Name-Unknown
Age-Somewhere between 18 and 25.
Eyes-Brown/green, you probably won't get to see them much.
Length: about 1m50(4"11)
Gender-Male
Race-Human
Weight-Very thin, about 70-80 lbs. I'd say.
Hairr-Dark brown, almost black, and very very long. As if it hasn't ever been cut....which, in fact, is actually true, and thus pretty dirty, with a bit of dreadlock effect, but mainly just dirty.
Skin color-ALthough odd for someone from the wastes, he has a very pale complexion.
Voice-Pretty high, almost shreakingly.
Occupation-none.
Family-Unknown.

General Appearance- He's a very small, and thin guy. He seems very distant, not making any kind of vocal contact with anyone, and staying in the shadows and out of sight as much as he can. Think of Gollum, make him more human, add hair, and make his quite a ways smaller, and make him a bit taller, and you'd probably have this guy.

Personality-He's utterly anti-social, although he has the ability to speak, he almost never uses it, and if he communicates, it is usually through gestures and showing emotions. He's very sneaky as well, he tries to stay out of sight and undetected, but doesn't always succeed.

Clothing-He wears pretty simple clothing, mainly consisting of black, dirty and not worn jeans, a long sleeved, dirty and also worn black shirt, and several mechanical trinkets used as, well, decoration. He's also been able to sow some kind of black patch of cloth to his shirt, which can be used as a hood of sorts, and when worn, virtually conceals his face. He has managed to make several pouches and pockets to put stuff in that hang from several places on his clothes, although most of those places are concealed from sight....

Weaponry and other items- A combat knife he picked up somewhere, a lot of technological, medical and other trinkets hanging from several necklaces, but for some reason he has wrapped cloth around all those things, as if not to make them make too much noise.

Abilities-He's very smart, and knows a lot of things, this being mostly due to the fact that he grew up in a library. Sadly, due to his antisocial nature, he can't really show any of the knowledge he has. If you were to give him a pencil and paper, however, he'd probably be able to put some sane things on that paper.
He's pretty handy with the knife, but that's about all he's good for in combat, and if the combat got any farther than him trying to kill something with a single undetected stab, he'd probably be in a lot of trouble. His real ability lies in stealth, he can sneak past most people, and often uses this ability to get himself through daily life, by stealing food and water and other necessities.
He's also pretty handy with mechanical things(explaining the many, many trinkets he has), but he tends to take them apart, and thus, it may not be a very good idea to hand him any sort of explosive device........

Short Bio-He was abandoned by his parents, and he will probably never know why. A ghoul found him, and, being a kind ghoul, decided to take him in and raise him. He took him to his place, the sewers of the town, wher he had stashed most of the pre-war stuff that had ever found it's way into that town, so that the people of the town wouldn't destroy all the knowledge and technology just to have a little fire.
Living in the relative dark, his eyes accustomed to the dark fast, and he learned a lot from the ghoul, he had read through most of the books in the library by the age of ten, since there was little to do. It was then that he started to tinker with all of the technological stuff around, ranging from computers and energy cells to lamps, assisted by the ghoul and this knowledge from the books, he managed to get quite some things working again, and those things he didn't get working, he turned inside-out to see what they'd do.
He had lived all that time by stealing from the inhabitants of the town, but one day he got caught, fleeing, a villager followed him and found the ghoul's place. After being scared off by the ghoul, the villager came back the next day....with a mob. Killing the ghoul, the mob couldn't find the boy, and left. The boy came out from one of the many hiding places, and found the ghoul dead, and most of the place destroyed or looted. Fearing another attack he skipped town, and played stow-away on a caravan leaving town. Hiding between the goods, he found that he wasn't even detected by the caravan. Since then he has been living like that, going from place to place and stowing away on caravans, sure he was caught some times, but when he was, the merchants either pitied him, he is a very pitiful creature, or left him to rot in the desert, not realizing that he would follow the caravan and hide amongst the goods after a day or so again.

Wow, this has become quite long, tell me whether or not you consider this to be good or not, and whether I would be allowed to join. I'd also like to say that most of the information given here isn't necessary, but sure helps when trying to interact someone who barely speaks and hides most of the time, because it gives some motivations and basic characterics, as well as skills....
 
OOC: Im totally new to this so please be patient and bare with me, not to mention i have never posted anything on any of these forums yet. Well, this is the best thing I could think up at the moment..

Name:Dominic "Twitch" Broder
Race: Human
Height: 5'10
Weight: a gaunt 155 pounds
Age: 18
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown
Faction: Eastern Brotherhood of Steel Deserter
Family: Unknown

Inventory: 2 10mm Pistols, each with 4 clips, Brotherhood leather armor, zippo lighter, carton of cigarettes, backpack full of food and water

Bios: Dominic, or Twitch as everyone else refers, was somewhat of a loner all of his life. He spent most of younger years growing up in a small farming community under the control of the Brotherhood. When he reached the age of 16, he conscripted into the ranks as do all of the village men. His views of the Brotherhood being his only hope and dream of ever seeing any excitement was obliterated as he was shown the true torment brought to the poor souls of the "outsiders" drafted in the vast Brotherhood armies. Shortly after his two week training period he was thrown into his first mission.
From what they were told, the mission was supposed to be nothing more than a recon of an unused, abandoned military installation to the south. As ordered, they marched for 2 days toward what they beleived would be a simple task. Everything was going according to plan until they happened to stumble upon thier long awaited target. As his squad slowly approached the main blast door, they all had a bit of fear in thier eyes. Thier squad leader spoke to them, trying to bring up the slowly deminishing moral of his men. Then, all hell broke lose. The blast doors opened with a loud grinding of metal. The squad moved to a defensive formation and awaited whatever was coming for them. As they stared into the darkness, a small circular object rolled out from inside the blast door. "Grenade!" was the last words from his squad leader, as he dove onto the object, drivin by pure instinct to save his men. Charred body parts flew everywhere, and the rest of the five men opened fire into the darkness ahead. After everyone emptied thier clips, a sickening silence fell over the squad. "What do we do now?" was all that was heard from one of his brothers, before a faint sound came from in the darkness. It sounded like a faint hiss, and a small light slowly crept forward, out of the darkness. Once again the squad opened fire, but to no avail. The light grew in strength, until it was a massive fireball that engulfed his entire squad. By chance, the Brother that Twitch happened to be standing next to had a natural reaction to push him out of the way. So, to his horror, Twitch witnessed his entire squad burned to death by an unknown assailant, with a mighty flamethrower. The only reaction Twitch had was to pick himself up, and run. He ran until he thought his lungs would burst, then collapsed, lost in the desert, surrounded by nothing but sand.
He walked for days, not knowing which direction he was taking, hoping that he would stumble upon something.... Anything. But his luck failed him, and on the sixth day, without food and water, he collapsed, and fell unconscious. He drempt that he was back home, on his farm with his loving mother and three brothers, working the fields, as if none of this had ever happened. He started to assume he had died, and began to try and forget what had occurred on his diasterous mission. But his peace did not last long, he was awakened by a cool sensation running threw his lips, into his mouth. He began to choke and awoke with a lapse of coughing.
He had been picked up by a passing caravan, which had hoped that it could trade him in to the Brotherhood, in return for some technology. He explained his story best he could, and was forced to give every valuable item he had to them for his freedom, which happened to only be his Brotherhood issued AK-47 and combat knife. The caravan driver must have felt generous, and let him go free at the first town they reached. He began his life anew in this small town of Nabeth, which he worked as a brahmin hand until he could afford enough supplies to begin his travels again.
After a few months which seemed like years, he left this small town, with nothing but; his old Brotherhood of Steel issued Leather Armor, two 10mm Pistols eached strapped to a leg, a knife, and a backpack full of as much water and food as he could carry. He has been walking the waistlands ever since......

(Hope this isn't too horrible, please post yer comments/pointers- thanks)
 
I know you said that you wern't expecting any Brotherhood characters, but I figured I'd give it a shot:

Name: Polock

Age: 35

Sex: Male

Race: Human (Mixed Polish, Canadian, Greek, Irish, and Scottish)

Height: 5’6

Weight: 152 lbs.

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Brown

Appearance: The more vague answer is: He has a brown beard of medium thickness, his head is somewhat enlarged (seemingly to hold his massive brain). He is a bit on the chubby side (but that bitchin trenchcoat makes him look thinner).

Of course, an easy answer is that he is a large-headed Kevin Spacey look-alike. And I’m not sure if Spacey has a beard. If he doesn’t, them Polock also has a beard added to that. Did I mention that tattoo of the BoS logo on his (Polock’s) top left wrist?

Polock usually wears the torso part of his Combat Armor over his shirt, but still keeps it under his coat.

Skills: Gunfighting, Advanced Marksman Training, Basic Computer Operation.

Equipment:

Current Weapons in Possession: Sniper Rifle, .44 Desert Eagle, H&K MP9 (10mm variant)

Armor and Clothes worn: Black Trenchcoat, BoS Combat Armor, Jeans, Grey T-shirt, Boots

Other Items: Journal, Pen, Polish Eagle amulet, unidentified Holodisk, .223 ammo, .44 ammo, 10mm ammo.

Background:

Background Story: All right then: I was born in a tin box called Delta Bunker. Said tin box was (and very likely still is) owned by the Brotherhood of Steel, floating on solid ice and rock in the snowy badlands of a place called Idaho.

I never had many experiences with a mother, because the moment she recovered from pregnancy, her boss abducted her at gunpoint. I never saw her again.

My brother ran away at age 13, but I’m not sure of it was Dad, (Who always ever so helpfully drove him to be ubber-militaristic, even though his mindset was too much like mine and we hated that stuff in excess. My father is such a physiological wunder-kid!) or me (Who bugged both my brother and everyone else living in the base, thus ruining my chance to score with the local babes.) that drove him away, but it doesn’t matter now.

What other wondrous things did I do? Well, I had nearly crawled up to Senior Initiate Scribe, when like the incredibly smart, patent, and mature person I am, I blew the proverbial Popsicle stand!

My wanderings (other then a semi-accidental three-way with some Russkie named Ediva and a raider named Ilona I had in Post Falls) are none of you concern, dumbass, and when I got back, my dad stupidly hugged me, and that’s when things got screwy.

But when a dead ghoul, a drunken escapade through New Boise, a war with a Unity/Desonite axis, a near hit-or-miss incident in Canada (and strange adventures in Yellowknife that had nothing to with almost accidentally having sexual relations with my estranged mother), and…

Oh, you’re concerned about that part about my mother? Well, fortunately, it got nowhere, but the way it started was pretty odd. You see, the reason that she confused me with dad (besides my looking a little too much like him) is that she didn’t notice my huge head, and that I didn’t get my tattoo until she had left. (My dad branded me as a baby? I’m suppressed I’m not dead! Well, the getting tattooed as a baby is a simple tale. It was meant for my dad, but the guy who did it was a little insane, and thought dad meant me. Oops, but I kind of grown to like the little freak of nature. (The tattoo, that is, you sick freak!) Sentiments are weird.)

Luckily, Canadian secret agents broke into the room before anything serious happened. Leave it to fate to have us only beginning to undress and enter the sack, though. It saved us loads of embarrassment, and killing time. The Canadians were dead on arrival, but mom had to leave for a second time.

But how did I end up commanding the Idaho BoS? Well, on me return, the Elders had flipped out more then usual, and along with some liberal pinko-commie named Petrox, I somehow would up killing the Elders and assuming control. I didn’t even want the job, mind you, but my Brothers and Sisters insisted! Ooh, just what I need; worthless fucking authority!

I excused myself from the political merry-go-round on the excuse of rejoining our forces in Illinois, Fools, they do not know why I really left. I’m not really quitting my day job, but I just wanted to,

well; to quote the old song: “I want to get away, I want to get away! I want to get away. I want to fly, away! Yea, yea, yea!”



Occupation: High Elder/General, Idaho BoS

Misc:

Mental Disorders: None major, really.

Fighting Style: Brawling

Personality perks: Unusually Intelligent & Clever, Philosophical Mindset

Personality quirks: Socially Immature, Annoying Jackass

Agenda: To escape the pressures of command, under

the false pretense of trying to contact the Illinois Brotherhood of Steel
 
Here's my crack at a character, keep in mind that it's subject to change, based on any advice given.


Name: Talon Kardee
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Race: Human
Place of Birth: Vault 76
Current Location: Unknown, will join the story soon.
Occupation: Only recently left the Vault, has not been to any city yet
-
Height: 5'3
Weight: 203 lbs
Physical A short but strong guy in a blue vault suit. While short, he is strong and can shoot well, as he was on the vaults security team.
-
Psychological Description: Very stubborn and intelligent, he was Vault 76's top investigator for crimes. If someone hacked/stole your pipboy you would request him for the case. He was officaly kicked from the vault for being to public about wanting to know what is outside the vault, the unoffical and true reason was humping the overseers daughter. He has yet to see any mutants or ghouls, but once the shock wears off, he will treat them like regular humans.
-
Clothes : He's wearing a vault suit with a large 76 on the back. He also has a gun belt and a bandolier for ammo/nades as well as a backpack..

Inventory: he has vault issue field rations, water containers (complete with the number 76 on the side), radX and rad away as well as a small pup tent. He also has a pipboy with a shortrange motion detector that in the open can detect motion up to 100 yards away. In hills and rough terrain, the range decreases greatley.

Weapons: One 9mm pistol with several clips, and a scoped M-21 with 40 rounds (2 mags) of 7.76 mm ammo.
(he wasnt supposed to get the M-21, but some friends from security added it on the sly)


(Maybe dump the M-21, or barter it away for armour)

Welsh, Gunslinger, I leave it to Y'all to edit my characther and his story as well as determine when to bring him in.

I just want to keep the vaultdweller part and the reason for being kicked un-changed
 
Name: Maverick, Jackson
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Race: Human
Place of Birth: Unknown
Current Location: Trapped within Gray Cliffs, with a merchant party he was hired to guard (a different party, not the Lone Wanderers).
Occupation: Odd Jobs, but was hired to guard a merchant party in Gray Cliffs
-
Height: 6'1
Weight: 193 lbs
Physical Description Jack is a darkly tanned Caucasian, with a medium muscular build. He has very little fat on him, most going towards muscles. He is fast running, but due to his bulk, not very agile. He has dusty blonde hair (in a natural spike), silver-ish eyes, but otherwise has no outstanding features.
-
Psychological Description: Jack is a very light-hearted person, with a laid-back look on life. He realizes the value of hard work, however, and prides himself at being good at whatever he’s hired to do. When something serious happens (a gunfight, maybe) Jack stops cracking bad jokes and does what he’s told, or attempts to formulate a plan. Very rarely does he give up or surrender in anything meaning he is very stubborn.
-
Clothes Jack has the whole “Wasteland Warrior” thing going. He wears a black t-shirt (over which he wears a set of leather armor), and (jungle) camouflaged pants, with a WW2-era British trechcoat and army regulation boots, salvaged from a prewar Army Surplus Store in old-Dallas.

Inventory: Jack carries an assortment of backpacks and supply-belts, holding various equipment, the most important being water, rations, and ammunition.

Weapons: An Kalashnikov AK-47 (slung over the shoulder and plenty of magazines), SIG Sauer P226 (.40 Cal Variant) (in a hip holster), and a Mac 10 (jammed in his belt).
 
Count me in.

Race: Human
Name: Eric Chang
Age: 25
Place of birth: Arizona

Current Location: Unknown

Description:

Sex: Male
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Height: 5'7
Weight: 160
Blood Type: O

Occuptation: Mercenary

Training: Mostly small arms and rifle training.

Record: He wanders from town to town, doing whatever job that needed to be done. Due to the collapse of social order, most often than not, Eric did mercenary work. During his early years, after the death of his parents, Eric worked mostly for the NAC. Currently, he is searching for a man named Kilrick.

Psych Profile: Often quiet and sticks to himself. In a team situation however, Eric realises that good charisma can get you places.

History: Born in Arizona to John and Marie Chang. At age 16, he set off in search of work to help his parents. After three years abroad, he returned home only to find out his parents had been brutally murdered by raiders. Lost and without direction, Eric swore that he would stay alive. Survive until the day he could pay back the raiders for taking the only thing he had cherished.

Equipment:

Weapon: M4 rifle with 2, 30 round clips of 5.56mm and one MR Desert Eagle with 5, 8 round clips of .300 grain jacketed hollow point.

Armor: A kevlar vest from one of his victims.

Miscellaneous: An old army issue ALICE rucksack, one pair of nightvision goggles, a canteen, and some MREs.
 
Name: Derich West
Age: 24
Place of birth: Es-say (San Antonio), Texas
Current Location: Unknown

Description: Derich is of average height and weight, with no distinct scars or body art. He is known to keep his hair closely buzzed and keeps a goatee. He was last seen wearing an old camoflauge USGI Flak Vest with a USGI Load Bearing Vest over it and an old M5 aid bag on his back. He is known to be armed with an old M16A1 rifle that is in good shape but prone to jamming. Derich is an easy going man, and early always has a calm demeanor and reassuring attitude. Gregarious and outward, Derich is known to give medical aid to anybody he encounters in need.

Sex: Male
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Dark Brown
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 155
Blood Type: O+

Occuptation: Combat Medic

Training: Derich West has traveled far and wide and has studied under several different well-schooled medics and doctors from the South-West to the East coast of what used to be the United States of America. Though no way qualified as a doctor, his use of first aid is quite honed and Derich can stabilize casualties suffering from even the worst battlefield trauma. He is also quite knowledgeable on several tribal homeopathic healing methods. He seems quite rehearesed in the ways of the gun; he is equally comfortable using larger firearms such as rifles as he is using pistols.

Record: Derich West has been known to drift through the wastes, stopping by from town to town, sometimes working in local clinics with doctors and sometimes providing simple treatments to townships that lack established health care. He is also known to group with adventurers and salvage crews that frequent old military installations or cities.

Equipment:
Kevlar Flak Jacket
LBV w/ 2 M16 Magazine Pouches, 2 1 Qt Canteens
M5 Aid Bag Fully stocked with a field-surgery kit, IV Solutions, Quikclot Bandages, Stimpacks, and regenerative bio-gel, several pouches of tribal healing dust
M16A1 Assault Rifle w/ 12 30-round 5.56mm Magazines

(Imagine Brad Pitt from Fight Club (after he shaves his head) in paramilitary garb... Thats Derich West)).
 
Name: Dreg
Real name: Unknown
Age: 25ish
Gender: Male
Race: Mostly human, but with something else thrown in
Occupation: Martial arts expert, trying to find more than the 1000 ways he knows of to kill a man without firing a gun, and a bit of a lone wanderer.

Physical Appearance
Eyes: Dark gray
Hair: Non, bald
Height: 6 ft 4
Weight: 307lbs, mainly muscle
Complextion: A strange grayish complexion
Dreg is a very well built person, all of his muscles are toned, and he is very strong. He is also very agile, which suprises people, because of his size.

Personality: Dreg is quite solitary, but once you get to know him, he is good fun to have around, he knows when to crack a joke and laugh at one, and when to be serious. But first you would have to earn his trust to get him to really talk to you.

Weapons: It doesn't look like dreg is carrying any weapons... Apart from the long wooden pole, but hey, what could that possibly do? Uh, right?

Clothing: Dreg just wears a pair of shorts, and some simple slippers on his feet. The rest of his powerful frame is exposed.

Items: Dreg carries around his shorts a belt, which contains various things to survive, food, water, a few stims, that sort of thing.

Something else: Ok, well I've had a bit of a talk with Welsh on this new character,(thanks for the guidance Welsh!) and have changed him from what I had in mind in the first place.
Ok, you may be wondering, how the hell does he have gray skin? Well all he knows is that something happened to the genetics of his family, and since before the war, his family had had gray skin, and had lost the sense of touch, now this isn't like the Ghouls loosing a bit of their sense of touch, this is total. I've tried to balance this out, so I put in that he can't use guns and knives, just melee and his pole. But he is an utter grand master in those two fields. Most likely because, his parents told him, that all of their line since before the war, has studied and done martial arts at the same time they mastered walking.

*Takes a big deep breath* And there we are. Any comments?
Oh, also, he has been captured by the Ozprezki, who are getting ready to sacrifice him, but they don't know about the little stealing party.
Now I'm truly done, as we say here, g'day mate.
 
My Character

NAME: Stryfe
AGE: 21
GENDER: Male
RACE: Human
HEIGHT: 6’2” ft
WEIGHT: 175 lbs
HAIR: Raven black
EYES: Emerald green

APPEARANCE: Brown skin tanned by years of walking under the unforgiving sun… Stryfe is a tall, lanky, but nowhere weak figure of a man. Tight muscular flesh that seems to be hidden beneath a fairly lanky frame work. A mixture of white, African and possible Asian heritage, Stryfe has the look of a mystic and the cold stare of a man who has killed before all combined in one. Tattoos of death claw markings and rnes adorn his arms, shoulders and back as well as neck area. Long plaited hair hangs at the base of neck line. Some battle scars can be seen, like one small scars on his cheek and under his eye from previous encounters.

Some csras on his chest, near his stomach where he was shot and another around his back, where he was knifed. For all his wounds you see a man who has came close to the end but somehow made.


PERSONALITY
-Stryfe is ruthless, wily, cunning and shrewd. But despite his mercenary nature and often self-centered mentality, he tends to always show his honorable side at the right time. A real loner, Stryfe usually joins causes when it is to his own benefit, and often distances himself from would-be allies, as he sees everyone as a potential threat. A bit stoic, Stryfe is a man who keeps his emotions and true feelings away from prying eyes. His reasons are shrouded in mystery – but if you look carefully into his green eyes you see a soul struggling to maintain his sanity in an insane world.

WEAPONS
-One AK-47, an actual Soviet Model pre-dating the Great War. In mint condition since it was removed from some Survivalist shelter in the wastes. Rechambered to accomodate the American 7.62mm FMJ. The rifle has an expanded magazine and lethal full automatic firing capacity making it a deadly weapon. Stryfe usually has this on hand when things get ugly,
-Dual Desert Eagle pistols: These twin, chrome black Deserth Eagles use the .44 FMJ caliber rounds, with double action. Meaning this weapon can fire faster and safer in his hands. These are his main pistols which have saved his life countless times.
-Combat Knives: Stryfe carries two, just in case. One is seen on his person, the other hidden in a sheath in his boot. Filed to and serrated edges, these blades cause pain and agony to any who would cross him.


ITEMS AND GEAR
-Dog Tags
-Lockpick set
-Water Canteen
-Combat Knife with a sharpened edge
-Stimpaks
-Backpack
-RobCO PIPBoy 2000
-Gas Mask
-Deans Electronics Guide Book
-Money $600
-Bottle of Nuka Cola
-Zippo Lighter
-First Aid Kit
-Some Rations
-Mirrored Shades
-Tool Kit

CLOTHING
-Flak jacket trench coat with Kevlar vest underneath. Long, denim jeans, double belts, gun holsters at hip and under arm.
-Leather gauntlet
-Steel toe boots


SKILLS
Stryfe is a remarkable gunslinger, accurate to the point of lethality when it comes to his Desert Eagles or laying down death with his AK-47. Also the understanding of pre-war devices such as computers and old forgotten technology make him a useful person. Some say this innate skill came from his time in a Vault, of course, if asked, Stryfe will never answer you. Lock picking and outdoors are his main skills. He knows how to get by the land and live off it, having spent much time in the wastes.

HOME
Some old Survivalist bunker from the pre-war... It is room, has two beds, a bathroom, kind of like living quarters of a Vault, except without waterchips.
 
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