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by Vacif » Thu Dec 28, 2017 1:34 pm
by Anowa » Thu Dec 28, 2017 2:10 pm
The Frozen Forest wrote:Anowa wrote:Last little nitpick, but I'd very much like it if he arrived from the south rather than through the east, makes it easier on everyone's part.
I have no problem with editing it so that it fits better with the lore and story. Is there anything else you'd like changed?
by Ormata » Thu Dec 28, 2017 11:34 pm
Name: Iris Harrison
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Physical Description:Standing at 5’4”, Iris’s physique is one of a trained athlete. Musculature can be seen across her tanned body and it’s more than easy to see the callouses on her knuckles and hands from years of training. Despite her combat service, two scars can be seen on her body, both round and of the diameter of a .308 bullet, on her upper torso and left leg. Iris’s auburn hair, forever dirty, is kept short.
Birthplace: The Hub, NCR
Occupation: Sergeant, First Recon
Level: 1
EXP: 0/200
Skills:SPECIAL
- Barter: 15
- Energy Weapons: 21
- Explosives: 21
- Guns: 32 [!]
- Lockpick: 21
- Medicine: 30 [!]
- Melee Weapons: 15
- Repair: 15
- Science: 15
- Sneak: 17
- Speech: 15
- Survival: 17
- Unarmed: 30 [!]
Perks: N/A
- S: 5
- P: 8
- E: 6
- C: 5
- I: 5
- A: 6
- L: 5
Equipment:- Winchester Model 70, .30-06 Springfield
Biography:
- Uzi, Cut-down, .45 ACP
- Flare Gun, 12 Gauge
- Combat Knife
- Molotov x4
- NCR Armor, Bandoleer / Facewrap
- Winter Coat, Fleece-Lined, White
- Backpack, White
- Scarf
- Winter Boots
- NCR Helmet
- Packed Rations x5 (Iguana Bits, Purified Water)
- Fixer x3
- Med-X x1
- Purified Water x2
- Stimpak x2
- Caps x70
- NCR Dogtags x1
- Pack of Cigarettes x2
- Playing Cards
- 12 Gauge Smoothbore Conversion Barrel Insert
- .30-06 Springfield x42
- .45 ACP x40, 2x 20-Box Magazine
- 12 Gauge Buckshot, 12x
- 12 Gauge Flare, 5xBorn in The Hub, Iris’s life in the slums of the city was one of hardship. Her father left early in her life, left with the recruiter and the soldiers to go East to Arizona, and she never would see him again after her tenth birthday, and her mother was one of the whores in a brothel, servicing the men off-duty with cheap amusement and pleasure. Never watched, she became a thief early-on, a turncoat of trust and a pickpocket. It was easy enough, with quick little hands that were as apt in the pocket of a stranger as messing-about in the air. She was a kleptomaniac, in some ways, always moving, always moving.
Do Not Remove: 2299
She’d steal for a while, never caught in her youth, until the recruiter came-about. She gave it some thought, thinking on staying in The Hub, in the dirt and firth of the city with a mother strung-up on Jet, thinking on the gangs that came-about for their protection cuts with baseball bats in-hand, thinking on every other damn bastard. Recruiter seemed better than one might say.
She enlisted at 18, a Private in the New California Army, just another soldier. Boot camp was rough, though shorter than one might think with just a few beatings and just a few trips out to the range. It was simple, easy, and Iris would get just a few evil eyes for being one of the very few enlistees. The Service Rifle she was issued was the standard piece of garbage, the armor scrap steel with the Bear painted-over, and the helmet of doubtful quality. Iris found it less than joyous.
Shipped-out to the East, the Private would find herself in the border conflicts of an expanding nation, the warfare against tribals and savages, against raiders. It was nearly like home, except for a better view and marginally better food. Iris would do well, out there, her skills at picking-off bastards seemingly natural. Honing her skills against raiders at better than 600 meters, those abilities would be noticed by her immediate superiors who decided to not make the recommendation higher for a transfer to First Recon. They needed better soldiers for themselves.
She’d participate in the First Battle of Hoover Dam in 2277, just a year after her enlistment, Iris’s skills showing well. The Legion fought like the savages before, attempting to rush where they might, though they fought in their groups well. It was eerie, to see them be, and in the following years Iris found herself along the line in the Mojave, though she would not take part in the massacre of Bitter Springs. There were little things to be thankful for. The Second Battle of Hoover Dam would earn the young girl, then Sergeant for her services, a Battle Star for Valour along with notice from more senior officials.
In 2282, she would be transferred to First Recon and sent North. Iris has been there since.
by Jarnheim » Fri Dec 29, 2017 12:01 am
by Shadowwell » Fri Dec 29, 2017 12:19 am
Jarnheim wrote:App updated. I'm not too sure what the image size is, though, because I only have my phone (can't afford a pc). If I can get help on that if the image size isn't the appropriate size, I would be extremely grateful.
by Beutarch » Fri Dec 29, 2017 7:40 am
by True Christopia » Fri Dec 29, 2017 8:37 am
Ormata wrote:To be expanded upon.Name: Iris Harrison(Image)
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Physical Description: (THings not obvious in your character photo, like height, weight, tattoos, etc.
Birthplace: The Hub, NCR
Occupation: Sergeant, First Recon
Skills: Guns, Unarmed, Medicine
SPECIALEquipment: (What they have on their person that helps them to survive)
- S: 6
- P: 8
- E: 7
- C: 5
- I: 5
- A: 4
- L: 5
Biography:Born in The Hub, Iris’s life in the slums of the city was one of hardship. Her father left early in her life, left with the recruiter and the soldiers to go East to Arizona, and she never would see him again after her tenth birthday, and her mother was one of the whores in a brothel, servicing the men off-duty with cheap amusement and pleasure. Never watched, she became a thief early-on, a turncoat of trust and a pickpocket. It was easy enough, with quick little hands that were as apt in the pocket of a stranger as messing-about in the air. She was a kleptomaniac, in some ways, always moving, always moving.
Do Not Remove: 2299
She’d steal for a while, never caught in her youth, until the recruiter came-about. She gave it some thought, thinking on staying in The Hub, in the dirt and firth of the city with a mother strung-up on Jet, thinking on the gangs that came-about for their protection cuts with baseball bats in-hand, thinking on every other damn bastard. Recruiter seemed better than one might say.
She enlisted at 18, a Private in the New California Army, just another soldier. Boot camp was rough, though shorter than one might think with just a few beatings and just a few trips out to the range. It was simple, easy, and Iris would get just a few evil eyes for being one of the very few enlistees. The Service Rifle she was issued was the standard piece of garbage, the armor scrap steel with the Bear painted-over, and the helmet of doubtful quality. Iris found it less than joyous.
Shipped-out to the East, the Private would find herself in the border conflicts of an expanding nation, the warfare against tribals and savages, against raiders. It was nearly like home, except for a better view and marginally better food. Iris would do well, out there, her skills at picking-off bastards seemingly natural. Honing her skills against raiders at better than 600 meters, those abilities would be noticed by her immediate superiors who decided to not make the recommendation higher for a transfer to First Recon. They needed better soldiers for themselves.
She’d participate in the First Battle of Hoover Dam in 2277, just a year after her enlistment, Iris’s skills showing well. The Legion fought like the savages before, attempting to rush where they might, though they fought in their groups well. It was eerie, to see them be, and in the following years Iris found herself along the line in the Mojave, though she would not take part in the massacre of Bitter Springs. There were little things to be thankful for. The Second Battle of Hoover Dam would earn the young girl, then Sergeant for her services, a Battle Star for Valour along with notice from more senior officials.
In 2282, she would be transferred to First Recon and sent North. Iris has been there since.
by Ormata » Fri Dec 29, 2017 11:32 am
True Christopia wrote:Can I ask where you get your character pictures from? They're always really good and I'm jealous xD
As a side note, I'll probably post an app soon. I might just carry over my character from the other Rp since that looks like it's dead before it even really started
by Anowa » Fri Dec 29, 2017 4:23 pm
Ormata wrote:Name: Iris Harrison(Image)
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Physical Description:Standing at 5’4”, Iris’s physique is one of a trained athlete. Musculature can be seen across her tanned body and it’s more than easy to see the callouses on her knuckles and hands from years of training. Despite her combat service, two scars can be seen on her body, both round and of the diameter of a .308 bullet, on her upper torso and left leg. Iris’s auburn hair, forever dirty, is kept short.
Birthplace: The Hub, NCR
Occupation: Sergeant, First Recon
Skills: Guns, Unarmed, Medicine
SPECIALEquipment:
- S: 5
- P: 8
- E: 6
- C: 5
- I: 5
- A: 6
- L: 5
- Winchester Model 70, .30-06 Springfield
Biography:
- Uzi, Cut-down, .45 ACP
- Flare Gun, 12 Gauge
- Combat Knife
- Molotov x4
- NCR Armor, Bandoleer / Facewrap
- Winter Coat, Fleece-Lined, White
- Backpack, White
- Scarf
- Winter Boots
- NCR Helmet
- Packed Rations x5 (Iguana Bits, Purified Water)
- Fixer x3
- Med-X x1
- Purified Water x2
- Stimpak x2
- Caps x70
- NCR Dogtags x1
- Pack of Cigarettes x2
- Playing Cards
- 12 Gauge Smoothbore Conversion Barrel Insert
- .30-06 Springfield x42
- .45 ACP x40, 2x 20-Box Magazine
- 12 Gauge Buckshot, 12x
- 12 Gauge Flare, 5xBorn in The Hub, Iris’s life in the slums of the city was one of hardship. Her father left early in her life, left with the recruiter and the soldiers to go East to Arizona, and she never would see him again after her tenth birthday, and her mother was one of the whores in a brothel, servicing the men off-duty with cheap amusement and pleasure. Never watched, she became a thief early-on, a turncoat of trust and a pickpocket. It was easy enough, with quick little hands that were as apt in the pocket of a stranger as messing-about in the air. She was a kleptomaniac, in some ways, always moving, always moving.
Do Not Remove: 2299
She’d steal for a while, never caught in her youth, until the recruiter came-about. She gave it some thought, thinking on staying in The Hub, in the dirt and firth of the city with a mother strung-up on Jet, thinking on the gangs that came-about for their protection cuts with baseball bats in-hand, thinking on every other damn bastard. Recruiter seemed better than one might say.
She enlisted at 18, a Private in the New California Army, just another soldier. Boot camp was rough, though shorter than one might think with just a few beatings and just a few trips out to the range. It was simple, easy, and Iris would get just a few evil eyes for being one of the very few enlistees. The Service Rifle she was issued was the standard piece of garbage, the armor scrap steel with the Bear painted-over, and the helmet of doubtful quality. Iris found it less than joyous.
Shipped-out to the East, the Private would find herself in the border conflicts of an expanding nation, the warfare against tribals and savages, against raiders. It was nearly like home, except for a better view and marginally better food. Iris would do well, out there, her skills at picking-off bastards seemingly natural. Honing her skills against raiders at better than 600 meters, those abilities would be noticed by her immediate superiors who decided to not make the recommendation higher for a transfer to First Recon. They needed better soldiers for themselves.
She’d participate in the First Battle of Hoover Dam in 2277, just a year after her enlistment, Iris’s skills showing well. The Legion fought like the savages before, attempting to rush where they might, though they fought in their groups well. It was eerie, to see them be, and in the following years Iris found herself along the line in the Mojave, though she would not take part in the massacre of Bitter Springs. There were little things to be thankful for. The Second Battle of Hoover Dam would earn the young girl, then Sergeant for her services, a Battle Star for Valour along with notice from more senior officials.
In 2282, she would be transferred to First Recon and sent North. Iris has been there since.
Beutarch wrote:(Image)
Name: Peter Foiler
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 5' 11'', 193 lbs., minor scarring on his lower left arm due to Psycho use in his younger years
Birthplace: Flagstaff, Arizona
Occupation: Legionary, small time mercenary
Skills: Guns (Rifles/Long arms), Melee, Speech
SPECIALEquipment: Battle Rifle (1), 9mm SMG (1), Machete Gladius (1), .308 rounds (100), 9mm Rounds (200), Aureus (Gold) (2), Healing Powder (3), Hydra (1),
- S: 7
- P: 4
- E: 6
- C: 6
- I: 10
- A: 5
- L: 2
Biography: Foiler had the misfortune of being born to two raiders outside the Legion's budding capitol: Flagstaff. As the Legion's influence in the region grew, raiders became increasingly scarce due to Legion purges. As the other raiders fled to the Khans and the Fiends, his parents forged a fake identity for themselves and whisked the newly born Peter away to a small farming tribe just east of the Colorado river. His parents proficiency and ruthlessness in combat made them invaluable assets to the people. He led a tame lifestyle, keeping few possessions and occasionally working as a farm hand on the local bighorn ranches and maize fields. He studied under the tribal's wise-man, a plump old fellow who claimed to have lived in a Vault prior to settling down in the village. He took to his intellectual pursuits well, quickly learning intermediary arithmetic and literacy, and even dabbled in Latin.
When he turned ten years old, his parents introduced him to their less than honorable style of fighting. Utilizing a concoction of Psycho other assorted chems and a blade in each hand, his parents educated him in the ruthless art of raider combat. Firearms came second, often fired from a bush off the side of a road or a cliff overlooking the town. His malnourished infancy began to become a distant memory as he became more and more like the other stocky farm boys.
It wasn't until years later when a new raider gang tried to hit the town that Peter and his family proved their worth, taking the unsuspecting thieves by surprise and sending them either six feet under or running for the hills. The tribals praised their defenders, telling anyone who would listen of their guardian angels. While raiders never disturbed the town, the Legion did. Eager to take on new slaves and territory, the rumors of foreign warriors settling in the village made it an excellent target. Legionaries descended on the town like moths to a flame. The two raiders, their child and the town's informal militia stood no chance among the highly organized and outnumbering force. Most of the farmers were slain or crucified, too old or resistant to the Legion's ways. His parents were among the first to die, throwing themselves at the Legion's ranks. The remaining people of the village were promptly drafted into service in the Legion, women completing menial labor and the men to be initiated into the army.
Quintus struggled at meeting the Legion's demanding physical requirement, his body dulled by chems and gluttony. He quickly caught up, however, his unique fighting style besting many of the other captures. As he reached manhood, he became a Legionary participating demonstrating his prowess on the battlefield. His first taste of real combat was with the NCR's caravans and border patrols along the Long 15, which ultimately was a failure. Eager to open new fronts to fight against the NCR, the Legion sent an expeditionary force north, into Dog City.
After a short period of apprenticing under a local hound-master, the Legion came under attack by rebellious locals and the NCR's own expeditions. He promptly ended his study and ran the old tribal on his blade, declaring the rest the newest members of the Legion. Due to his relative success in the face of the overall failure of the excursion, he was prompted to command a small contingent of Legion explorers that would stay in Colorado.
In Colorado he would stay, faithfully carrying out the wishes of Caesar until the son of Mars' eventual death to brain cancer. After reading the reports, he knew that the new Legate, whomever it may be, would not bother continuing to supply the frumentarii and exploratores in the north. Foiler quickly cast off all to him that was Legion, save for his blade and a few Legion coins. He adopted a style of wrapped clothing similar to that of raiders in the East. Hoping to make a fresh start, he headed north, working as a one-way mercenary with a trade caravan.
Do Not Remove: 2299
by Anowa » Fri Dec 29, 2017 4:24 pm
The Frozen Forest wrote:(Image)
Name: Ahote Honaw
Age: 49
Gender: Male
Physical Description: Many long scars covering his legs and body. He's 6'2 and weighs about 210 Lbs. He has a single tattoo on his wrist identifying him as kin to the Hemlock Tribe.
Birthplace: Ukiah, NCR
Occupation: Adventurer, Warband Leader
Skills: Unarmed, Melee Weapons, Survival
SPECIALEquipment:
- S: 10
- P: 6
- E: 7
- C: 2
- I: 5
- A: 5
- L: 5
-Fighting Gear (See picture)
-Steel Shield (Semi-Bullet proof, in that it'll take a good number of rounds but will be torn apart by sustained fire)
-War Hammer
-Dagger
-Iguana on a stick (x4)
-Brahmin Steak (x2)
-Purified Water
-AntiVenom (x1)
-Healing Powder (x2)
-Caps (x80)
Biography:
Ahote was born as the son of a powerful Hemlock Warrior and a local Hemlock Tribe woman. His grandfather on his mothers side was the Chieftain of the Tribe when he was alive, and his grandmother on his fathers side was known as the greatest hunter the tribe had ever seen. His mother and father were exiles due to their illegal marriage. His birth in particular had been a troubled one, as the first and only child the couple would have. His mother would survive the birth though she would be so damaged that it would be impossible for her to bear a second child, his father immediately began to treasure his son, knowing it would be the only one he would have.
When he was six years old his father began to train him in the art of fighting and hunting. In the former he proved a masterful combatant for one his age, for the latter he was still very talented. His father would spend many nights enthralling the young boy with tales of glory and wealth from those brave warriors who traveled off to face one villain or another. The nighttime stories told to him affected him deeply as he poured more and more of his being into his mastery over his body and his skills. These skills were put to the test when he was fourteen years old. While traveling in the woods one night he was beset by a wild Yao Gui. It had bore down on him from a nearby path, obviously starving as a result of the harsh frost that had lasted into the summer. He had drawn his tomahawk and their fight lasted for several hours as he constantly fended the yao gui off while simultaneously landing blows across it's body. At one point they were over a small cliff and he was forced to climb onto it's back and gouge out it's eyes with his bare hands. In the end he conquered the great beast and returned to his family with a plentiful bounty of meat and Yao Gui products.
When he was sixteen he set off with the blessing of his family, determined to carve his name into the echelons of the wasteland. He made his way off to the The Big One with nothing but a horse and a weeks worth of jerky and water, his old Tomahawk and a single packet of healing powder. Over the course of the first four years he grew exponentially. Those first four years were the hardest in his life as he encountered roaming gangs of bandits, raiders, tribals and terrible beasts. Time and again he challenged them to fair combat and time after again they refused, instead trying to rob him of his possessions. He killed hundreds of them before his 20th birthday and he still lusted for further combat.
As he traveled others joined him, eventually he had a dedicated warband of fellow adventurers from all across what was once Canada. He was about 36 when he finally reached the end of the route, having accumulated tens of thousands of caps and exotic gear. His warband contained 220 individuals. He made his way partway back before departing on a second route, the so called Roundabout. He encountered a great many warriors in the Midwest whom he defeated or recruited into his splintering group. They had collected enough stories and caps to last a lifetime and so many simply settled down in the communities the band past through. He was 43 when he reached the end of the Roundabout and was able to take the Long 15 South to the City of Lost Angels within the well known Boneyard.
At the age of 47 and a half, and after over thirty years of adventuring he'd finally reached his last route. He traveled the Road North towards the Aurora Region, the land of his ancestors. He chose to finally return to his families homeland, the Hemlock Tribe. A new chief had come to prominence, a brutal and tyrannical leader whom should have never been able to take power, yet did. He noticed the destruction caused by the war in the area and the deaths of so many of his kin. He has pledged his support to his new tribesmen, rather than the Chief himself.
Do Not Remove: 2299
by Anowa » Fri Dec 29, 2017 4:29 pm
Beiarusia wrote:(Image)
Name: Carver
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Physical Description:Carver is average in height, standing at 5'8" (173cm) and weighing approximately 163 pounds (74kg). Hair is a dark muddy brown; eyes are hazel. Hasn't shaved in a long while. Despite an extensive career running with the Jackdaw Gang, and having taken part in many raids, scraps, and drunken brawls, Carver has only a few indistinguishable scars. Blood type is AB-.
Birthplace: Spokane, Washington
Occupation: Raider
Skills:• Lockpick
SPECIAL
• Small Guns
• SpeechEquipment:
- S: 5
- P: 4
- E: 5
- C: 7
- I: 6
- A: 5
- L: 7
• 9mm Pistol
• Combat Knife
• Fragmentation Mine
• Molotov x2
• Type 93 Chinese Assault Rifle• Leather Armor, AR
• Leather Armor, C
• Satchel
• Scarf
• Winter Hat
• Winter Jacket• Buffout
• Cram
• Crispy Squirrel Bits x3
• Dirty Water x2
• Fixer x2
• Iguana Bits x2
• Iguana-On-A-Stick
• Jet x4
• Med-X x3
• Psycho
• Purified Water
• Stimpak• Caps x21
• Bobby Pins x7
• Duct Tape x2
• Fork
• NCR Dogtags x4
• Pack of Cigarettes
• Playing Cards• 5.56mm x72
• 9mm x26
Biography:Carver is the product of a dysfunctional environment. Abandoned at a young age, the boy would survive by working various odd jobs, oftentimes for little pay, and lived in constant fear of starvation during the cold, brutal winters of the Pacific Northwest when employment was difficult to come by. Wanting more, the boy joined with a caravan company heading south, but after being cheated he would take what he could and run. The men followed and beat the boy to within an inch of his life before leaving him for dead. He survived, however, and would join the Jackdaw Gang not long afterwards. The caravan was attacked by raiders upon returning north, and the men butchered by the very boy they had sorely wronged. Henceforward, the boy — having adopted the name of Carver — would abandon the niceties of civilized society with a trail of innocent blood pooling in his wake.
Do Not Remove: 2299
Charismatic with an above-average intelligence, and more than his fair share of good luck, the next decade-and-a-half would see Carver rise from a relative nobody to a respected and feared member of the Jackdaw Gang. The raiders would terrorize southeastern Washington for several years before heading south into Oregon in search of fertile hunting grounds, eventually moving west towards Portland, during which time they would systematically assimilate (or annihilate) smaller bandit gangs so as to remove the threat of undesired competition. The Jackdaw Gang would eventually take possession of the Mt. Hood Community College in Portland, Oregon, after evicting a troublesome batch of raiders, a skirmish that Carver would personally conduct with brutal efficiency. In addition to the new outpost, a handful of slaves would be captured (themselves taken from southern Washington by slavers), and as reward Carver would be granted a young child if only for a lark at his expense. Unwilling to play the fool he accepted his new slave if only to spite his associates. The girl, Nona, was timid yet hardworking, useful, and loyal to a fault. She also had little to fear as Carver, while quick to punish the most insignificant of mistakes, was protective of his property, aggressively so, and would kill a would-be rapist without a moment's hesitation, and example that wasn't soon forgotten.
The borders of the New California Republic would eventually intrude upon bandit territory. Initially perceived as a new source of raiding material, the NCR would respond quickly to the threat (perhaps having learned from its ordeals in the Mojave) and soon enough an undeclared war ignited for control of Portland. The Jackdaw Gang would find success early on, but the raiders were unable to win a prolonged conflict, simply lacking in raw output when compared to the likes of the NCR. In desperation the raider gangs would join together underneath a single banner, but, ultimately, were defeated at the Battle of I-5. The NCR claimed Portland as its own.
The remnants of the Jackdaw Gang would fracture without stable leadership. Carver was left alone with nothing but his loyal slave, and pursued by the NCR would head north into Washington and beyond, bitter, and looking to start again.(Image)
Name: Nona
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Physical Description:Nona is generally small for her age due to many years of malnourishment, standing at 4'7" (140cm) and weighing an insignificant 81 pounds (37kg). Unkempt hair is a charcoal black; eyes are a vivacious blue-grey. Heritage is Chinese-American. Has a number of faded scars on her arms, hands, shoulders, legs, and back from various punishments and mishaps. Blood type is O+.
Birthplace: Yakima, Washington
Occupation: Slave / Raider
Skills:• Melee
SPECIAL
• Sneak
• SurvivalEquipment:
- S: 2
- P: 6
- E: 6
- C: 4
- I: 4
- A: 8
- L: 3
• Flare Gun
• Laser Pistol
• Ripper w/ Extended Blade
• Switchblade• Bandana, Yellow
• Black-Rimmed Eyeglasses
• Dog Collar, Grey
• Hooded Rags
• Rucksack
• Ushanka Hat• Absinthe
• Beer x2
• Blamco Mac & Cheese
• Crispy Squirrel Bits x4
• Dirty Water x3
• Iguana Bits x4
• Jet x6
• Maize x2
• Mentats x2
• Nuka-Cola x3
• Nuka-Cola Quantum
• Pinewood x4
• Potato
• Psycho x2
• Purified Water x4
• Rad-Away
• Slasher
• Stimpak x4
• Turbo x3
• Vodka
• YumYum Deviled Eggs• Caps x82
• Bobby Pins x1
• Duct Tape x4
• Eight Ball
• Flashlight
• Handcuffs
• NCR Dogtags
• Scissors
• Toothbrush
• Umbrella• .308 Round x11
• .45 Auto
• Energy Cell x3
• Flare x2
• Fusion Core
• 12 Gauge Shotgun Shell x5
Biography:Nona was born in Yamika, Washington, a small settlement of maybe forty people, many under the age of eighteen, and was the youngest child of two farmers whose early-childhood could best be described as "simple" despite the many difficulties of life post-Great War. The girl was eight years-old when slavers purged the settlement. Many were killed indiscriminately, and those who survived were taken as slaves. Nona, having lost her entire family, was conditioned over a span of several months to be subservient, a harrowing experience that made extensive use of starvation, isolation, and frequent beatings among other imaginative techniques. She was eventually purchased by a wandering merchant who, a short time later, was killed by raiders expecting a better deal on chems. Nona would suffer terribly for almost a year before the arrival of the Jackdaw Gang and her becoming the possession of Carver.
Do Not Remove: 2299
Although still a slave, Nona would find life with the Jackdaw Gang to be infinitely more suitable than her previous affairs. Carver was harsh in his expectations and punishments, perhaps cruel at times, but he offered a much needed sense of protection, going so far as to kill one of his own for attempting to "misuse" the girl. Nona latched onto the man like how a drowning swimmer takes hold of a lifeguard. Safety was a rare commodity, and with Carver as her master the girl was nigh untouchable as if vaccinated against the disease that was the human savagery. This safety — and possibly the budding Stockholm Syndrome — would see to Nona becoming one of Carver's most loyal followers if not the most fanatical.
Her past life in Yamika having faded away to nothing more than a half-forgotten dream, Nona, oftentimes exposed to violent and/or bloody deeds, would succumb to the degeneracy of the raider gang until she, too, was little better than those around her, a spiraling descent made all the worse by an emerging chem addiction that was ironically meant to subdue her chaotic mania. The crossing of the point-of-no-return would be the murder of a NCR trooper who was captured only weeks before the Battle of I-5 — Nona was tasked with killing the man (after he had endured several days of torture) which she happily obliged without question, his dogtags gifted to her by Carver afterwards. Nona was a raider in every way but name.
When the Jackdaw Gang fell apart weeks later Nona would follow Carver north into Washington and beyond, happy to go wherever he sees fit. She is fiercely loyal to the man and strives hard to please him with a job well done.
by Anowa » Fri Dec 29, 2017 4:33 pm
Jarnheim wrote:(Image)
Name: Erik Bjornssson
Age: 47
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 7'4", 457 lbs.
Birthplace: Boring, Oregon
Occupation: Raider
Skills: Unarmed, Melee, Big Guns
SPECIALEquipment: Power Fist, with puncturing modification; Heavy Raider armor worn upon chest, forearms, and calves; Welding mask (other suggestions are welcome)
- S: 10
- P: 3
- E: 10
- C: 7
- I: 3
- A: 3
- L: 4
Biography:Quiet and ultra-violent, Erik finds comfort in murder, torture, and burning things. He is somewhat antisocial, yet enjoys the company of those with the same level of brutality that he wields, and respects those who can hold themselves in a fight. It doesn't help that he's quite the sadomasochist (though more heavily a sadist) and a bit of a pyromaniac, and most certainly a cannibal.
Erik grew up on what could be described as a farm, though truthfully, it was more of a shelter in the middle of nowhere, in the forests of Oregon, with his single father, a hulking man himself, who, at the very most, would pat little Erik on the head after coming back drunk. Most often, life was unbearably lonely, with his father out so often, briefly coming back to the house in order to give Erik food. Eventually, Erik took to hunting around the woods close to his home. For years, life continued like this in a simple, isolating manner. It was the only life Erik knew.
That all changed on his twenty-first birthday.
Fresh new snow had fallen. Winter had come. Erik had returned from a hunt, returning with little other than a few small animals, only to find the door to the house open. Upon going inside, he stumbled upon a Gorey nightmare of a scene: Blood splattered all over the wall, the corpse of a large, older man slumped upon a chair in the corner, brain spilling out from a wound that appeared to be from a shotgun taken upside the face, from directly below the upper jaw. Panicked, Erik had set off towards Portland. Unintelligent as he was, he learned. He learned the ability to sometimes blend in with more common folk, only to smash their heads in as they slept, and cook their meaty bits over a fire. But there were times when he had nearly successfully integrated with the ever deteriorating society. He had even made a few friends over the years, though his constant wandering made it so that these friendships could only last for so long.
Eventually, Erik trekked his way back further west towards the coast, unknowing of the northern push being made by the NCR. Eventually, through some odd socializing made by Erik, he did eventually learn of this expansion. At first, he was very sure of himself and his abilities... at least before he witnessed the NCR for himself in Northern California. Dumb and primal as he was, he was aware that they were too much for him, and so begun his trek even farther north, in hopes of returning to a simple life, no longer running in fear.
Do Not Remove: 2299
by True Christopia » Fri Dec 29, 2017 6:55 pm
by Beiarusia » Fri Dec 29, 2017 6:56 pm
True Christopia wrote:So are all of the PC's (bar the NCR blokes) in the group thats being ordered to lie down?
by True Christopia » Fri Dec 29, 2017 7:29 pm
by Arengin Union » Fri Dec 29, 2017 8:19 pm
by Independent States of Tula » Fri Dec 29, 2017 11:41 pm
by The Frozen Forest » Sat Dec 30, 2017 12:50 am
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