Fallout: Aurora (OOC/Sign-Up|Open)

[Anowa]

(Image)

Name: Lincoln W.J Shingles
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 5’4, 160 lbs.
Birthplace: Lincoln’s Family House
Occupation: Bodyguard/Sniper/Infiltrator
Level: 6
EXP: 2,700/3,450
Skills: 13 Skill Points Per Level/Guns, Sneak, Lockpick

• Barter: 10
• Energy Weapons: 20
• Explosives: 20
• Guns: 67 [!]
• Lockpick: 35 [!]
• Medicine: 16
• Melee Weapons: 14
• Repair: 16
• Science: 16
• Sneak: 67 [!]
• Speech: 10
• Survival: 14
• Unarmed: 14

SPECIAL

• S: 5
• P: 8
• E: 5
• C: 3
• I: 6
• A: 8
• L: 5

Perks:

• Level 2: Swift Learner
  Level 4: Awareness
  Level 6: Toughness, Sharpshooter

Appeal: Kevlar Body Suit, Hiker's Backpack.
Weapons and Ammo: SKS: 7.62×39mm “Harry” ★, Colt M1911, Machete, Combat Knife, (150) 7.62×39mm Rounds, (30) 7.62×39mm Depleted Uranium Rounds, (70) 45. ACP Rounds.
Medical Supplies: (10) Stimpacks.
Components: N/A.
Other: 2L Water Canteen, Flashlight, Handheld Radio, Food and Water (One Week), Hunting Knife.
Do Not Remove: 2299

(Image)

Name: Lincoln W.J Pork
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 5’5, 280 lbs.
Birthplace: Lincoln’s Family House
Occupation: Bodyguard/Heavy Weapons/Cook
Level: 6
EXP: 2,700/3,450
Skills: 13 Skill Points Per Level/Guns, Survival, Unarmed

• Barter: 3
• Energy Weapons: 14
• Explosives: 14
• Guns: 80 [!]
• Lockpick: 14
• Medicine: 14
• Melee Weapons: 20
• Repair: 14
• Science: 14
• Sneak: 18
• Speech: 3
• Survival: 57 [!]
• Unarmed: 39 [!]

SPECIAL

• S: 8
• P: 5
• E: 10
• C: 0
• I: 5
• A: 7
• L: 5

Perks:

• Level 2: Swift Learner
  Level 4: Awareness
  Level 6: Toughness, Strong Back

Appeal: StandardFull Combat Armor (Not white but a mess of other colors), Kevlar Body Suit (worn under the Combat Armor), Hiker's Backpack.
Weapons and Ammo: M1919: 7.62x39mm “The Swine” ★ (Rechamber to 7.62x39, Muzzle Brake, Recoil Counterbalance, Tuned Receiver, Barrel Shroud, Wood Buttstock, Wood Foregrip) ,Colt M1911, Machete, Combat Knife, (450) 7.62x39mmRounds, (50) 7.62×39mm Steel Core Rounds, (70) 45. ACP Rounds.
Medical Supplies: (10) Stimpacks.
Components: N/A.
Other: 2L Water Canteen, Flashlight, Handheld Radio, Food and Water (One Week), Hunting Knife.
Do Not Remove: 2299

(Image)

Name: Susie Lincoln
Age: 200
Gender: Female-programmed
Physical Description: It’s a floating ball
Birthplace: Lincoln’s Family House
Occupation: Robot Diplomat
Level: 6
EXP: 2,700/3,450
Skills: 13 Skill Points Per Level/Speech, Barter, Sneak

• Barter: 49 [!]
• Energy Weapons: 27
• Explosives: 27
• Guns: 27
• Lockpick: 27
• Medicine: 14
• Melee Weapons: 10
• Repair: 14
• Science: 14
• Sneak: 42 [!]
• Speech: 100 [!]
• Survival: 13
• Unarmed: 13

SPECIAL

• S:3
• P:11 (+5 Bonus)
• E:4
• C:11
• I:5
• A:9 (+4 Bonus)
• L:5

Perks:

• Level 2: Swift Learner
  Level 4: Awareness
  Level 6: Butler Protocol, Educated

Internal Systems: Standard Main Fusion Core, Water Purifier, Speech Replicator (able to talk in normal human tones and voices.)
Do Not Remove: 2299

(Image)

Name: Lincoln M.J Rose
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Physical Description: 5’3, 130 lbs.
Birthplace: Lincoln’s Family House
Occupation: Scientist/Doctor/Repair Woman
Level: 6
EXP: 2,700/3,450
Skills: 16 Skill Points Per Level/Science, Repair, Medicine

• Barter: 12
• Energy Weapons: 14
• Explosives: 14
• Guns: 14
• Lockpick: 14
• Medicine: 74 [!]
• Melee Weapons: 14
• Repair: 74 [!]
• Science: 58 [!]
• Sneak: 14
• Speech: 12
• Survival: 14
• Unarmed: 14

SPECIAL

• S:5
• P:5
• E:5
• C:4
• I:11
• A:5
• L:5

Perks:

• Level 2: Swift Learner
  Level 4: Awareness
  Level 6: Vigilant Recycler, Hand Loader

Appeal: Hazmat Suit, Hiker Backpack.
Weapons and Ammo: MP5K, (300) 9mm Rounds, (4) Frag Grenades
Medical Supplies: Paramedic Bag, (35) Stimpacks, (20) Med-X, (20) Rad-Away, (20) Rad-X, Surgical Instrument Kit.
Components: Enough parts to repair ballistic weapons and basic items (raidos, bikes, etc)
Other: 2L Water Canteen, Flashlight, Geiger Counter, Hunting Knife, Weapon Repair Kit, Electrical Tool Kit, Mechanical Tool Kit, Clean Food and Water (One Week), Handheld Radio.
Do Not Remove: 2299

(Image)

Name: Lincoln M.J Wilson
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Physical Description: 5’3, 130 lbs.
Birthplace: Lincoln’s Family House
Occupation: Blob of Death
Level: 6
EXP: 2,700/3,450
Skills: 16 Skill Points Per Level/Science, Repair, Medicine

• Barter: 12
• Energy Weapons: 14
• Explosives: 14
• Guns: 14
• Lockpick: 14
• Medicine: 74 [!]
• Melee Weapons: 14
• Repair: 74 [!]
• Science: 58 [!]
• Sneak: 14
• Speech: 12
• Survival: 14
• Unarmed: 14

SPECIAL

• S:14
• P:5
• E:11
• C:0
• I:5
• A:3
• L:5

Mutation List:

• Light Sensitivity
• Pattern Skin
  Disoriented Pheromones
  Blood Substitute (water)
  Toxic Resistance
  Transparent Eyelids
  Webbed Digits
  Amorphous
  Temperature Sensitivity
  Covered in Orfices (mouths)
  Deaf
  Increase Heart and Lung size
  Early Maturation
  Decrease Metabolism
  Needle-like teeth
  Toothed Skin
  Hyperadrenal Gland
  Microscopic Vision
  Constant Skin Shedding
  Strangely Colored Eyes
  Gas Emission (irritant gas)
  Roots and Vines
  Low Pain Threshold
  Increase physical ability (STR x 1.33)
  Heightened sense of touch
  Fur (thick, curly)
  Trail of Slime
  Venoms Bite (Toxic Poison)
  Appeal - CBRN suit

Up north from Hope lands, in the mountains, is the Lincoln Family House, a self-sufficient cave bunker that houses the Lincoln Family. From generation to generation, the Lincoln Family had enjoyed their isolation from the outside world, protected within their comfortable cave bunker. It’s not until upon the date of July 16th, 2100, did a member of the Lincoln Family went outside to the wastes. His name was Grandfather Lincoln, a legendary individual of sorts, wandering the wastes to do good in the name of the Lincoln Family. Staying away from the ongoing shit-show that was the Abbot, Vault 119, and Mitchell island Technicians (Now the Fraserites). Grandfather Lincoln did many charitable works in his 40 year run in the Aurora region, helping raiders, tribes, and the worst off, in gaining food, water, supplies, along with teaching them how to farm build, etc. His death came upon the date of July 20th, 2140, when he rallied a young tribe (now the Chill Tribe) against a massive attack of deathclaws. His body is now buried within the Chill Tribe. His Sacrifice still remembered by the Chill Tribe and many others.

Following in the same footsteps of Grandfather Lincoln. Grandmother Lincoln was the second member of the Lincoln Family to set foot into the Aurora region upon June 20th, 2141. Like the previous Lincoln, Grandmother Lincoln did what she could to do good in the name of the Lincoln Family. Working with the same tribes that Grandfather Lincoln did. Grandmother Lincoln helped ensure the ongoing survival of the young tribes (now the Chill, Clarke, and Hemlock Tribes). Grandmother Lincoln died upon the date of January 14th, 2190, when she single handedly fought off a raider attack at the Outlook. Her body is now buried within the Clarke Tribe, her legacy still written down.

October 18th, 2193. Father Lincoln was the shortest lived Lincoln, dying only after 20 years after his journey to follow the tradition of the Lincoln Family. Although his time was short, his achievements was grand. A plague has struck the tribes and nearly wiped them out, however due to Father Lincoln’s research, he managed to develop a cure and vaccine. Not only that, he also taught the tribes upon more medical knowledge and doing, first taught by Grandfather Lincoln. Father Lincoln died peacefully upon the date of August 17th, 2213. His body is now buried along sided Grandfather Lincoln in the Chill Tribe. The tales of achievement by Father Lincoln are still remembered to this day.

February 30th, 2215. Now the 4th member of the Lincolns to venture out to the wastes from the Lincoln’s Family House, Mother Lincoln continues the long-held tradition of good work. She helped develop and organize the tribes into more more efficient communities, and gave them the know-how to manage and repair a decent amount of pre-war technology. Mother Lincoln also attempted to unify the major three tribes but sadly she did not manage. At their first meeting upon Speaker’s Hill, a trap was set up by someone that lead a sizeable wave of 80 Felins. Caught off guard, Mother Lincoln sacrificed herself to let the leaders of the Chill, Clarke, and Hemlock tribe leaders escape with minor wounds. Mother Lincoln died upon the date of May 17th, 2256. Her body is now buried upon the Speaker’s Hill, her sacrificed is still remembered by many today.

August 1st, 2258. Sister Lincoln was now the 5th member of the Lincoln Family to follow the tradition of the good work. A famine and drought had struck Hope, Chill, Clarke, and Hemlock, along with many other smaller communities. Wasting no time, Sister Lincoln make haste towards a solution. That solution was bringing a gargantuan craven of food from the Dust Bowl back to the people that needed it. Sister Lincoln then used the water reservoir of the Lincoln’s Family House to supply the needed water to get the farms up and running again. Finishing that mess, Sister Lincoln quietly lived in Hope as he helped ease some tensions between the Chill, Clarke, and Hemlock tribes. She peacefully died upon the date of July 20th, 2286.

And now we come to the current day Lincolns. All of five of 'em as their story beings.....

Accepted

[Shadowwell]

Name: Stephen Rogers
Age: 30 (just turned 30 this year.)
Gender: Male
Physical Description: Stephen stands at only 6 feet, being of slightly above average build. His body is tough and weathered, he is full of lithe muscle an tough hide, he weighs 180 pounds. His skin is full of scars and marks left from old wounds and injuries, which easily stand out against his tanned skin. HE has relatively short blond hair, but close to his head. He has a few distinctive features, that make him somewhat unique. Firstly he has a crest on his forehead, a ridge of tough skin and bone located above his eyebrows. The other feature is he has 5 more eyes that he should, one eye is on his forehead, framed by the forehead crest, the others are located above and below each of his eyes.
Birthplace: Aurora
Occupation: Raider
Level: 6
EXP: 2500/3450
Skills:

• 13 skill points per level
  
• Barter: 15
  
• Energy Weapons: 15
  
• Explosives: 21
  
• Guns: 50 [!]
  
• Lockpick: 15
  
• Medicine: 20
  
• Melee Weapons: 15
  
• Repair: 50 [!]
  
• Science:17
  
• Sneak: 15
  
• Speech: 15
  
• Survival: 25
  
• Unarmed: 50 [!]
  

SPECIAL

• S: 5
  
• P: 5
  
• E: 5 (Base 8-3 due to brittle bones)
  
• C: 5
  
• I: 6
  
• A: 5
  
• L: 7
  

Perks:

• Level 2: Swift Learner
  — : Myopia (cannot see clearly beyond 17 feet.)
  — : Mechanical intuition
  — : Forehead ridge
  Level 4: Mutate: Weak Bones
  — : Gained 5 eyes for a total of 7
  Level 6: Hand Loader
  Level 6: Vigilant Recycler
  — : Adhesive touch
  — : Horrible stench

Equipment: Equipment:

WEAPONS	APPAREL	AID	MISC.	AMMO
• Heavily modified Service rifle Named "Avenger of Blood" Has flaming angel wings on either side. Has an under barrel shotgun attachment, and other mods to it, is rechambered to .308. • Modified 10mm Pistol Full Auto Named "Righteous Fury" • Bear Trap Fist	• Reinforced leather armor • A satchel. • Bandoliers	• 10 stimpacks • 1 whiskey • Assorted food and drink	• 15 Caps, 2 tabs	(Specific amounts may vary) • 5-20 round Mags (Varying types) • 10-12 gauge rounds, 5 4/0 buck magnum, 5 12 gauge magnum rounds, and 5 12 gauge slug • 2-24 round 10mm JHP mags, 2-24 round 10mm standard mags

Biography: Stephen was born 30 years ago in 2259 to a couple within one of the numerous raiding groups in Aurora, that were just trying to make it straight as genuine settlers. He was born with a few defects, or mutations if you will, though the only apparent one was his forehead crest, in the form of raised and roughened skin. He grew up relatively normally, and as he grew his skill with mechanical things became apparent, but all was not good. It was also discovered that he had difficulty seeing things beyond a certain distance, but that was not too debilitating. The place he lived made great use of his mechanical skills, even though he was so young.

When he was 14 he developed a condition, that lead to him having slightly brittle bones, this would prevent him from taking a more active role with the military aspects of the settlement, but his other skills made up for that. Over time his settlement became known for having relatively good quality weapons, unfortunately disaster would strike again. A close by gang of raiders attacked his settlement and and killed almost everyone, his parents included. Originally it was just a planned Raid, for them to seize all the things the settlement had gained, that changed once they found out that Stephen had been responsible, or at least involved in the production of the items.

So they captured him, at first they tortured him to get him to try and make the weapons and what not, but that ran into a snag when they almost killed him by accident, due to the beatings coupled with his brittle bones. Soon enough they changed their tune, they started being nicer to him, slowly coercing him, and he eventually fully joined and started providing them with better weapons and gear. This lasted from the time he was captured, 16, all the way to when he turned 21, though as had been a recurring theme, bad things happened after a time. He had to go out, to assist the gang with the repairs of some piece of machinery, during that time he got exposed to lots of rads.

After he was treated for exposure, eyes, started popping up on his face, which freaked him and the other raiders out. Though he was useful to them, and had helped them quite a bit, the eyes were unsettling enough that they kicked him out and tried to kill him. He was able to kill a few of them, but was injured as he escaped. It took him a while to recover, and as he did, he realized a few things, that he had helped those that killed his parent for good feelings and thrills. That realization changed him, nearly broke him, but his anger, his fury carried him him through the despair, helped him survive it mostly intact. He wandered Aurora for 9 years, he survived by killing raiders, including some of those that were a part of his former gang, and gathering supplies.

He did not dare go near the Tripartite, after all, he had beena raider for a while, and they might even have heard of him. As the time passed he recovered and was exposed to more radiation, this time gaining something rather useful, adhesive touch, he could climb walls and smooth surfaces easier. He made good use of it and was able to sneak into unexpected places and kill people high up in buildings bypassing security on the lower levels. Before he would kill raiders, those located in buildings at least, he would climb and scout in the night. Once such scouting, he was climbing Newton Tower, when Angela found him and captured him.

She questioned him, but did not kill him, after discovering things about him and verifying his nature and dislike for normal Raiders he was allowed to join her group. Her angel wings and nature made him think of her as something akin to the righteous fury of Heaven. He knew that she was no Heavenly being, she was most likely not too different from him, but he believed that she still carried out the heavens work, protecting those who needed it and punishing those who transgressed too severely. He has been with her group ever since, helping them with making ammo and tweaking and maintaining their weaponry and other mechanical constructs. Due to handling depleted uranium for an extended period of time, he gained another radiation, a rather unfortunate one, but hasnt had any negative repercussions beyond the obvious, he smells like rotting meat.
Do Not Remove: 2299

[The New Byzantine II]

Is it too late to join?

[Shadowwell]

Is it too late to join?

Yes and no, you cannot make a character that went through the exodus, not as of the IC state anyways, but you can still make characters, locals with one of the factions or a raider, former or otherwise.

[The New Byzantine II]

Is it too late to join?

Yes and no, you cannot make a character that went through the exodus, not as of the IC state anyways, but you can still make characters, locals with one of the factions or a raider, former or otherwise.

I'm planning to make a character who is a pre-war Ghoul (formerly a biker gang) that is a local. He is briefly part of the Fraserites but he is just independent.

[Vacif]

So how’d the battle for West Minster go? Was it a gradual retreat by the Frazierites, or did the Haida Blitz them one day?

[Anowa]

So how’d the battle for West Minster go? Was it a gradual retreat by the Frazierites, or did the Haida Blitz them one day?

A bit of both, a rapid blitz was basically stonewalled, and then the Fraserites had to retreat because they were running out of ammo.

[Ormata]

Name: Sophie Duncan

Age: 14
Gender: Female
Physical Description:

Standing at 5’6”, Sophie is thin and light for her age at just 112 lbs. With silvery, reflective skin, she looks and though someone molded gallium into human form before melting it. On a good day, or rather night, she stands-out only a bit less than most, and on a bad day, she essentially could replace a beacon. Sophie’s hair is brown and kept short for practical reasons, as are her nails, and her eyes are the color of the ocean, polluted as it is. Her musculature is nothing at all impressive, with her ribcage noticeable against the skin, and she is rather undeveloped one might say.

Birthplace: Annacis Island, Fraserite Territory
Occupation: Mechanic
Level: 6
EXP: 0/3,450
Skills:

• Barter: 19
• Energy Weapons: 15
• Explosives: 15
• Guns: 30
• Lockpick: 15
• Medicine: 36
• Melee Weapons: 11
• Repair: 65
• Science: 36
• Sneak: 55
• Speech: 35
• Survival: 9
• Unarmed: 9

SPECIAL

• S: 3
• P: 5
• E: 2
• C: 7
• I: 8
• A: 10
• L: 5

Perks:

• Level 2: Swift Learner
• Level 4: Mutate: Reflective Skin
• Level 6: Gun Nut
• Level 6: Brawny Saviour

Equipment:

- Sterling Submachine Gun, 9x19mm

- Mechanic Jumpsuit, Gray
- Plaid Long Sleeve Shirt
- White Shirt
- Jeans
- Green Duffel Bag

- Canned Meat x4
- Canteen
- Metal Thermos
- Metal Cup x2
- Tea, Loose Leaf x12

- Caps x12
- Screwdriver w/ Bits
- Wrench
- Metal Spoon, x2
- Flint & Steel

- 9x19mm x30

Biography:

Born on Annacis Island, Sophie’s parents were both of the democratic faith. In their eyes, the Old World had to be rebuilt fully and with all haste; as such, her father was a soldier, a student of Ghoul marines and Super Mutant strongmen, a man who found his solace in knowledge. It was his happy place, as it were. Her mother was both a teacher to the children and a student from those same sources, one who wished to pass-on all that she might. She saw her mother far more often than her father, who sadly enough stood watch at Mitchell Island. Nevertheless, Sophie’s mother was a kind woman who did her best in raising her daughter, mostly in terms of getting the young girl into school as quickly as all possible so she might be with her more often.

At a young age, the girl would find her hands always to be busy, always fidgeting and absorbing information at such a rate in school that Sophie would often become bored from the lessons, annoyed at her classmates’ stupid questions at things that seemed so obvious. Sophie would get into infrequent trouble, looking into things that she shouldn’t and taking things apart with such a devotion that it could make an Abbot recruit look tame. She would see little bits and pieces, want to know how they work, why they work, and as such both asked multitudes upon multitudes of questions and was scolded rather often. Once a rare few realized that Sophie stopped taking the thing apart once it was understood, they became a bit more receptive towards actually answering those questions. She quickly learned, absorbing all information given to her.

Her potential would be rapidly realized when, in the nearly ubiquitous nature of most small children, Sophie would be given an opportunity to both help an adult and do what she really, really did enjoy to do: Open things up. At the age of seven she would act as the hands, essentially, for a mechanic on the island to repair a broken-down generator, fitting herself into a cramped space and helping the man in his work. Granted, while following orders and directions was less joyous than one might think, considering her age, she was getting permission to look into places that normally she’d be swatted-at for and, not only that, to work on it. Sophie most certainly had fun with that, before long coming into the tutelage of a ghoul mechanic on the island.

However, with the granting of this job, she and her mother would receive word that the worst had come to pass; while on patrol in the vicinity of Mitchell Island, PFC Jakobs Duncan would, along with the squad to which he was assigned, be declared KIA due to raider attack in the north. They would be found missing legs and limbs, bodies shredded into thin slices and not a shot fired-off in return. The letter they received made it seem as though he and the others had been so damn heroic, big heroes. Sophie’s mother would take a sojourn from teaching, going to therapy with those she could, attending meetings and the like in an attempt to leave the grief. Sophie herself didn’t really understand fully the gravity of the situation, kept away from that sort of thing as the children were.

With the explosion of raider activity and the encroaching Haida, it would be decided then that she would be sent to the Vault 119 Protectorate. This would become rather standard practice for the Fraserites eventually, with the immediate strain of resources on their lines an unacceptable thing and the Vault more capable of protecting the persons sent. On the voyage, however, Sophie would be given doses of radiation due to the storms and would, as a direct result, gain a silvery skin that reflected most light. She has, since then, stayed in the Protectorate to be both looked-at by the scientists and to practice her trade.

Do Not Remove: 2299

[Camicon]

Google Doc [continuously updated]

Name: June Raid
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Physical Description: 5'7", 140lbs, dark brown hair, green eyes, a variety of small scars across her hands and fingers and forearms, Followers of the Apocalypse tattoo behind her left ear
Birthplace: The Mojave Wasteland, Nevada
Occupation: Followers of the Apocalypse [student], NCR conscript
Level: 6
EXP: 2500/3450
Skills:

• Barter: 12
• Energy Weapons: 14
• Explosives: 14
• Guns: 65 [!]
• Lockpick: 14
• Medicine: 18
• Melee Weapons: 10
• Repair: 50 [!]
• Science: 18
• Sneak: 50 [!]
• Speech: 16
• Survival: 10
• Unarmed: 10

SPECIAL

• S: 4
• P: 6
• E: 4
• C: 5
• I: 8
• A: 7
• L: 1

Perks:

• Swift Learner (2)
• Black Widow (4)
• Cherchez La Femme (6)
• Educated (6)

Equipment:

• Colt 933 "Marksman" carbine (x150 rounds)
• Colt M1911 .45 (x35 rounds)
• Combat knife
• Combat armor
• 3x Stimpacks
• 3x Rad-X
• 1x Rad-Away
• 215x bottle caps
• Customized Caravan deck
• Assorted camping equipment
• Assorted food and water rations
• Sundry climate appropriate clothes

Biography: June's ma' often remarked that she must have been born on Friday the Thirteenth, under a Dark Moon, while a black cat sauntered by and gave her the Evil Eye. She always said this in a joking manner, but there were times that June almost believed it; bad luck seemed to follow her around everywhere she went, and she could always count on perfectly mundane tasks of finding some way of going horribly, inexplicably wrong when she was around. "Snakebit from birth" was how her pa' put it, and that's how it seemed to June, as well. When she confided her worries to one of her Followers teachers he told her that it was just "confirmation bias", that it only seemed like she was dogged by bad luck because she expected and remembered those times that things went wrong, which was a small comfort that she clung to when the world seemed to be falling apart around her.

June's parents were simple farmers, trying to make the best of a bad situation outside of New Vegas. While neither of them expected great and wondrous success for themselves they were of the firm belief that June was destined for greater things, and so on her twelfth birthday they brought her to the Old Mormon Fort, where she would receive a proper education. Life in the Fort was good, if a little lonely, but June made the most of it and memorized as many things as she could, though she didn't understand most of it. She did develop a knack for fixing things of a mechanical nature, something that the doctors of the Old Mormon Fort occasionally found useful, focused as they were on fixing things of a biological nature.

One fateful day, not long after June turned eighteen, she received word that her family's farm had been attacked by Legionnaires that had snuck across the Colorado. Rushing home, she found a strange group of men there; not Legion mongrels, but dusty cowpokes who claimed to be employees of a well-known brahmin baron from back west. They waved a piece of paper in her face, saying that the NCR had sold them the land for a pittance, and now it was the property of "Mister Jedidiah" and was going to grow feedstock for his vast herds of brahmin back home. Needless to say, June didn't take kindly to this news, and by days end she was cooling her heels in a local jail for multiple counts of assault and arson. An NCR attache showed up then, and seeing a problem that wasn't about to go away any time soon, conscripted her.

Thus began June's time in the army of the Great Bear. She was stationed at Camp McCarran, and often found herself patrolling the borders of Fiend territory, or saddled with particularly onerous tasks around the camp, like digging new latrines or maintaining the shipments of weapons that came in and out of Contreras' shack. Her mouth got her in a fair bit of trouble, at first, but after seeing the whores of New Vegas while on leave one day she began studying how they twisted people around their fingers, manipulating them with just the right word or look. She took to this practice with a mercenary attitude and after a little success found her time in Camp McCarran became almost tolerable.

Rumours began swirling one day, that the Legion would be attacking Hoover Dam soon, and her unit was due to be rotated to the front lines any day. Not willing to bleed and die for a bureaucracy that had taken away her home and forced her into war, she enacted her desertion with speed and secrecy. From her time spent cleaning weapons in Contreras' shack she knew that the man was dealing under the table, and if any of his stock went missing then he would have to hide the error; so, should the NCR notice that it was missing a Colt 933 "Marksman" carbine - complete with scope and silencer - a Colt M1911 .45, or a few choice pieces of combat armor, well, either Contreras kept her theft hidden or the NCR would land themselves a far bigger radroach than her.

With the NCR to the south and west, and Legion to the east, June was left with but one option: north. She shed her NCR fatigues as she went, but kept the boots and bags, elbow and knee pads, breastplate and helmet. Once she had the necessary supplies, she stripped the colours off of the armor with a few studious applications of turpentine and painted them a more appropriate blue and grey camo, to match the overcast skies and ashy foliage she was encountering as she went further north.

Though word eventually reached June that the NCR had been forced out of New Vegas and the surrounding Mojave by the Courier, she figured that there was nothing left for her back there, and resolved to continue travelling north until she found a place untouched by the NCR's grasping fingers. This proved to be more difficult than she initially thought, and she found herself fleeing from settlement to township in an effort to remain one step ahead of the NCR's expanding borders.

Do Not Remove: 2299

[Anowa]

(Image)

Name: June Raid
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Physical Description: 5'7", 140lbs, dark brown hair, green eyes, a variety of small scars across her hands and fingers and forearms, Followers of the Apocalypse tattoo behind her left ear
Birthplace: The Mojave Wasteland, Nevada
Occupation: Followers of the Apocalypse [student], NCR conscript
Level: 6
EXP: 2500/3450
Skills:

• Barter: 13
• Energy Weapons: 14
• Explosives: 14
• Guns: 65 [!]
• Lockpick: 11
• Medicine: 18
• Melee Weapons: 10
• Repair: 50 [!]
• Science: 18
• Sneak: 50 [!]
• Speech: 15
• Survival: 10
• Unarmed: 10

SPECIAL

• S: 4
• P: 6
• E: 4
• C: 5
• I: 8
• A: 7
• L: 1

Perks:

• Swift Learner
• Black Widow
• Cherchez La Femme
• Educated

Equipment:

• Col 933 "Marksman" carbine (x150 rounds)
• Colt M1911 .45 (x35 rounds)
• Combat knife
• Combat armor
• 3x Stimpacks
• 3x Rad-X
• 1x Rad-Away
• 215x bottle caps
• Customized Caravan deck
• Assorted camping equipment
• Assorted food and water rations
• Sundry climate appropriate clothes

Biography: June's ma' often remarked that she must have been born on Friday the Thirteenth, under a Dark Moon, while a black cat sauntered by and gave her the Evil Eye. She always said this in a joking manner, but there were times that June almost believed it; bad luck seemed to follow her around everywhere she went, and she could always count on perfectly mundane tasks of finding some way of going horribly, inexplicably wrong when she was around. "Snakebit from birth" was how her pa' put it, and that's how it seemed to June, as well. When she confided her worries to one of her Followers teachers he told her that it was just "confirmation bias", that it only seemed like she was dogged by bad luck because she expected and remembered those times that things went wrong, which was a small comfort that she clung to when the world seemed to be falling apart around her.

June's parents were simple farmers, trying to make the best of a bad situation outside of New Vegas. While neither of them expected great and wondrous success for themselves they were of the firm belief that June was destined for greater things, and so on her twelfth birthday they brought her to the Old Mormon Fort, where she would receive a proper education. Life in the Fort was good, if a little lonely, but June made the most of it and memorized as many things as she could, though she didn't understand most of it. She did develop a knack for fixing things of a mechanical nature, something that the doctors of the Old Mormon Fort occasionally found useful, focused as they were on fixing things of a biological nature.

One fateful day, not long after June turned eighteen, she received word that her family's farm had been attacked by Legionnaires that had snuck across the Colorado. Rushing home, she found a strange group of men there; not Legion mongrels, but dusty cowpokes who claimed to be employees of a well-known brahmin baron from back west. They waved a piece of paper in her face, saying that the NCR had sold them the land for a pittance, and now it was the property of "Mister Jedidiah" and was going to grow feedstock for his vast herds of brahmin back home. Needless to say, June didn't take kindly to this news, and by days end she was cooling her heels in a local jail for multiple counts of assault and arson. An NCR attache showed up then, and seeing a problem that wasn't about to go away any time soon, conscripted her.

Thus began June's time in the army of the Great Bear. She was stationed at Camp McCarran, and often found herself patrolling the borders of Fiend territory, or saddled with particularly onerous tasks around the camp, like digging new latrines or maintaining the shipments of weapons that came in and out of Contreras' shack. Her mouth got her in a fair bit of trouble, at first, but after seeing the whores of New Vegas while on leave one day she began studying how they twisted people around their fingers, manipulating them with just the right word or look. She took to this practice with a mercenary attitude and after a little success found her time in Camp McCarran became almost tolerable.

Rumours began swirling one day, that the Legion would be attacking Hoover Dam soon, and her unit was due to be rotated to the front lines any day. Not willing to bleed and die for a bureaucracy that had taken away her home and forced her into war, she enacted her desertion with speed and secrecy. From her time spent cleaning weapons in Contreras' shack she knew that the man was dealing under the table, and if any of his stock went missing then he would have to hide the error; so, should the NCR notice that it was missing a Colt 933 "Marksman" carbine - complete with scope and silencer - a Colt M1911 .45, or a few choice pieces of combat armor, well, either Contreras kept her theft hidden or the NCR would land themselves a far bigger radroach than her.

With the NCR to the south and west, and Legion to the east, June was left with but one option: north. She shed her NCR fatigues as she went, but kept the boots and bags, elbow and knee pads, breastplate and helmet. Once she had the necessary supplies, she stripped the colours off of the armor with a few studious applications of turpentine and painted them a more appropriate blue and grey camo, to match the overcast skies and ashy foliage she was encountering as she went further north.

Though word eventually reached June that the NCR had been forced out of New Vegas and the surrounding Mojave by the Courier, she figured that there was nothing left for her back there, and resolved to continue travelling north until she found a place untouched by the NCR's grasping fingers. This proved to be more difficult than she initially thought, and she found herself fleeing from settlement to township in an effort to remain one step ahead of the NCR's expanding borders.

Do Not Remove: 2299

Accepted.

[Anowa]

Name: Sophie Duncan

(Image)

Age: 14
Gender: Female
Physical Description:

Standing at 5’6”, Sophie is thin and light for her age at just 112 lbs. With silvery, reflective skin, she looks and though someone molded gallium into human form before melting it. On a good day, or rather night, she stands-out only a bit less than most, and on a bad day, she essentially could replace a beacon. Sophie’s hair is brown and kept short for practical reasons, as are her nails, and her eyes are the color of the ocean, polluted as it is. Her musculature is nothing at all impressive, with her ribcage noticeable against the skin, and she is rather undeveloped one might say.

Birthplace: Annacis Island, Fraserite Territory
Occupation: Mechanic
Level: 6
EXP: 0/3,450
Skills:

• Barter: 19
• Energy Weapons: 15
• Explosives: 15
• Guns: 30
• Lockpick: 15
• Medicine: 36
• Melee Weapons: 11
• Repair: 65
• Science: 36
• Sneak: 55
• Speech: 35
• Survival: 9
• Unarmed: 9

SPECIAL

• S: 3
• P: 5
• E: 2
• C: 7
• I: 8
• A: 10
• L: 5

Perks:

• Level 2: Swift Learner
• Level 4: Mutate: Reflective Skin
• Level 6: Gun Nut
• Level 6: Brawny Saviour

Equipment:

- Sterling Submachine Gun, 9x19mm

- Mechanic Jumpsuit, Gray
- Plaid Long Sleeve Shirt
- White Shirt
- Jeans
- Green Duffel Bag

- Canned Meat x4
- Canteen
- Metal Thermos
- Metal Cup x2
- Tea, Loose Leaf x12

- Caps x12
- Screwdriver w/ Bits
- Wrench
- Metal Spoon, x2
- Flint & Steel

- 9x19mm x30

Biography:

Born on Annacis Island, Sophie’s parents were both of the democratic faith. In their eyes, the Old World had to be rebuilt fully and with all haste; as such, her father was a soldier, a student of Ghoul marines and Super Mutant strongmen, a man who found his solace in knowledge. It was his happy place, as it were. Her mother was both a teacher to the children and a student from those same sources, one who wished to pass-on all that she might. She saw her mother far more often than her father, who sadly enough stood watch at Mitchell Island. Nevertheless, Sophie’s mother was a kind woman who did her best in raising her daughter, mostly in terms of getting the young girl into school as quickly as all possible so she might be with her more often.

At a young age, the girl would find her hands always to be busy, always fidgeting and absorbing information at such a rate in school that Sophie would often become bored from the lessons, annoyed at her classmates’ stupid questions at things that seemed so obvious. Sophie would get into infrequent trouble, looking into things that she shouldn’t and taking things apart with such a devotion that it could make an Abbot recruit look tame. She would see little bits and pieces, want to know how they work, why they work, and as such both asked multitudes upon multitudes of questions and was scolded rather often. Once a rare few realized that Sophie stopped taking the thing apart once it was understood, they became a bit more receptive towards actually answering those questions. She quickly learned, absorbing all information given to her.

Her potential would be rapidly realized when, in the nearly ubiquitous nature of most small children, Sophie would be given an opportunity to both help an adult and do what she really, really did enjoy to do: Open things up. At the age of seven she would act as the hands, essentially, for a mechanic on the island to repair a broken-down generator, fitting herself into a cramped space and helping the man in his work. Granted, while following orders and directions was less joyous than one might think, considering her age, she was getting permission to look into places that normally she’d be swatted-at for and, not only that, to work on it. Sophie most certainly had fun with that, before long coming into the tutelage of a ghoul mechanic on the island.

However, with the granting of this job, she and her mother would receive word that the worst had come to pass; while on patrol in the vicinity of Mitchell Island, PFC Jakobs Duncan would, along with the squad to which he was assigned, be declared KIA due to raider attack in the north. They would be found missing legs and limbs, bodies shredded into thin slices and not a shot fired-off in return. The letter they received made it seem as though he and the others had been so damn heroic, big heroes. Sophie’s mother would take a sojourn from teaching, going to therapy with those she could, attending meetings and the like in an attempt to leave the grief. Sophie herself didn’t really understand fully the gravity of the situation, kept away from that sort of thing as the children were.

With the explosion of raider activity and the encroaching Haida, it would be decided then that she would be sent to the Vault 119 Protectorate. This would become rather standard practice for the Fraserites eventually, with the immediate strain of resources on their lines an unacceptable thing and the Vault more capable of protecting the persons sent. On the voyage, however, Sophie would be given doses of radiation due to the storms and would, as a direct result, gain a silvery skin that reflected most light. She has, since then, stayed in the Protectorate to be both looked-at by the scientists and to practice her trade.

Do Not Remove: 2299

Accepted.

[Anowa]

Name: Old Man Waltz
Age: 113
Gender: Male
Physical Description: Old Man Waltz is the opposite of what one might expect of an old man, muscle bound, and nearing 6'10 feet in height, his body is lean and agile, fitting for a talented sword-fighter such as he. His body is all but coated in a canvas of scars, a number of tattoos declaring his membership to a nigh innumerable number of gangs, and names of those who he sees as family.
Birthplace: The Capital Wasteland
Occupation: Abbot Missionary
Level: 50
EXP: MAX
Skills:

• Barter: 100
• Energy Weapons: 28
• Explosives: 62
• Guns: 110
• Lockpick: 14
• Medicine: 120 [!]
• Melee Weapons: 110 [!]
• Repair: 100
• Science: 42
• Sneak: 48
• Speech: 120 [!]
• Survival: 120
• Unarmed: 110

SPECIAL

• S: 10
• P: 10
• E: 17
• C: 13
• I: 8
• A: 7
• L: 7

Perks:

• Indomitable (Challenge)
• You're a Beast, Son (Challenge)
• Tough as Nails (Challenge)
• Mutate! [300 Long Life] (Birth)
• Mutate! [509 Autobiographical Memory] (Birth)
• Swift Learner (2)
• Mutate! [279 Immune to Poison] (4)
• Mutate! [521-524 Directional Sense] (6)
• Mutate! [218 Chronic Pain] (6)
• Healer (8)
• Stonewall (10)
• Trustable (10)
• Adamantium Skeleton (12)
• Light Step (14)
• Chemist (14)
• Unstoppable Force (16)
• Animal Friend (18)
• Snake Eater (18)
• Culinary Physicist (20)
• Cornered Rat (22)
• No Time to Think (22)
• Walker Instinct (24)
• Death on Roller Skates (26)
• Beat a Motherfucker with Another Motherfucker (26)
• 21:6 (28)
• A Fucking Blender (30)
• Suddenly, Gunfire (30)
• Demolition Expert (32)
• Hand Loader (34)
• Junk Rounds (34)
• Min-Maxing Asshole (36)
• Clusterfuck Bomb (38)
• Dad's Workshop (38)
• Cowboy (40)
• Until It's Over (42)
• Traps (42)
• Wish Upon a Star (44)
• I Liked it Better When You Were a Corpse (46)
• Awareness (46)
• The Art of Pain (48)
• Ye Who Walks the Valley (50)
• Thought You Died (50)

Equipment:

• King James Bible
• Saturnite Sword "Durendal"
• Malleus Armor
• Abbot Missionary Robes
• Merlin 1895 "Artemis"
• Pip-Boy 3000C

Biography: Born on the opposite side of the continent over a century ago, Waltz was never given an actual name, his mother having died a few hours before her body inevitably birthed him. The raiders that stumbled upon the boy in the then still radioactive wasteland of Washington DC took mercy for once, taking him in as a new recruit to expand their influence with. From then on he was known simply as 'Kid'. From an early age, Waltz was an impressively fast learner, due in part to his literally perfect memory, but also due to a natural inclination to learning new skills. After spending most of his youth fixing up the raiders he gained an unnatural affinity for medicine, not to mention his capabilities in both melee combat and fist fighting were also high, usually fending off other raiders trying to take advantage of the young boy.

Eventually, the gang died out, one too many bad encounters lead to their number dropping too low to sustain much, and most members split off, including Waltz. He headed south for some time, eventually wandering into the Bayou of what was once New Orleans. Gators, swamp people and radioactive beasts didn't give him a very long stay, less than a year. Eventually he left, heading north along the Mississippi, joining gang after gang, all dying out one after another, eventually he arrived in Minnesota, and it was here Waltz finally took a name for his own.

He settled down, acting as both a teacher and doctor, occasionally as a fighter, but through this all, he started getting feelings for the priest's daughter. It was here he first tumbled into the world of religion. And the true meaning of the word 'family'. He did all he could for the woman he loved, helped her make a house, start a business selling linens, and even giving her children to love and adore. He poured his heart out for the woman named Amelie, and his daughter Carrie. Carrie was a gearhead, occasionally tagging along with her father to find parts, holotapes, and other pre-war junk to fashion into something. She gifted him a holotape of songs, something the man cherishied, having not really been gifted anything in his life. The man would spend nearly 20 years fighting and bleeding for their homestead, forging a circle of life around a tiny town in upstate Kansas.

But he left scant few witnesses. It came back to haunt him, when a mass of raiders attacked the town when he was out, looking for him. They found him.

Waltz was lashed to a collection of scrap wood, nails, meathooks, chains and ropes binding him spread eagle to splintered and charred wood. His body ached, his mind snapped, and his soul was torn asunder, as he watched the town he cared so much about reduced to ruin. In the main street his eyes were forced open by spring loaded pliers, and bodies were pulled in front of him, taken advantage of, killed and plundered, stacked in a pile as they rotted. This carried on for two days. Until eventually, his wife and daughter were brought out. The chains started to give, his flesh started to rip, and the wood started to crack. But in the end his movements weren't enough to save his family. Only avenge them. His flesh was torn from him, arms ripped open by jagged chains and splintered wood, fists snapping under the repeated blows to countless raiders. He left none alive, no one safe from his anguish and insatiable rage.

After he collapsed in a pile of tears and blood, he crawled to the body of his daughter, finding a copy of the holotape given to him scant years prior. He held on to it, even after BoS soldiers stumbled upon the scene, men were wounded when they tried to take the tech, even behind plates of steel and powered armor. They let him keep it.

After he was treated, he was released back into the wastes. Wandering south and west, he no longer had purpose, he became an alcoholic madman for hire, killing for every scrap of caps he could buy more booze with. His life was a blur of drunken messes and bar fights, even for Waltz' perfect memory. Eventually he arrived in a township in Montana. becoming somewhat of a raider again, acting as town security only when he wanted, only when he was paid. Though eventually he got his ass beat, too drunken to do much more than stumble into their fists. A woman took him into her home, despite knowing his reputation, and that was the second leg of Waltz family life.

He would marry a second time, in a much more stable area, in much more stable conditions. They would end up becoming owner to a bar via last will, ironically the very same he was thrown out of when they first met. He would have another child on the way within the next three years, but things never truly go to plan. The child, and his wife, would die in birth. The mother, Annabelle, would die from uterine tearing, thus bleeding out, the child would be s tillborn due to suffocation, the umbillical cord having wrapped around it's neck. Despite all his medical knowledge and preparation, Waltz couldn't save his second family. His guilt having caught ahold of him, he turned his gun on himself, and after a date with a 10mm maiden, he would be hospitalized. He managed to barely make it, after the locals took the knowledge he gave them and applied it. For once, he felt some form of worth to those in the world, instead of merely being a hindrance that brought death and destruction wherever he went.

He would not return o his life of alcohol abuse, instead, packing his bags and heading further west, into NCR territory. Settling down as a doctor in a small settlement on the San Jacinto Mountain Range. He would rake in caps at moderate rates, helping those for minor wounds at a price, and those with life altering injuries for significantly less, saving lives, and gaining a just appreciation from the locals.

On his off time, he would act as a local preacher, gaining some notice by the few New Canaanite missionaries who would head through the town to greener pastures. Occasionally he would act as a mediator at the local pub and courthouse, settling disputes of all matters when no one else could

Eventually his yearning for some form of companionship resulted in an infatuation with a ranch owner, a woman by the name of Hillary Montgomery, owner of the Montgomery Ranch, handed down generation after generation for nearly a century and a half. Waltz would make countless house calls to the farm, helping farmhands at the wrong end of a tool or livestock, making sure their wounds would heal properly. Though Hillary and Waltz wouldn't officially be wed, but nearly everyone in the community knew of their coupling, no one in the community knew him as other than the doctor who was damn good at his job, not the farmhands, not the sheriff, not the NCR, not the Brahmin barons. Perhaps if they knew things would've ended differently.

After a house call to a rather remote home of some far off hermit, he would return to the ranch to find it being assailed what used to be known as the NCR's 17th Independent Recon Company. Waltz, having turned a new leaf, tried to use words and a silver tongue to dissuade the soldiers, instead, he was struck over the head and restrained as the ranch was turned upside down for no apparent reason, he thought that maybe something had been wrong, that they got the wrong people, but then someone he cared about was executed. David Montgomery, Hillary brother, and Waltz's close friend. His mind flashed to the first time he was helpless to defend his family and his way of life.

What used to be known as the 17th Independent Recon Company was disbanded in 2226, due to taking catastrophic losses in what would be known later as "The Massacre of San Jacinto". The event which would lead to one Keegan "The Beast of San Jacinto" Glover, becoming both a wanted man, and a legend to tell unruly children.

Eventually, Waltz would stumble into Aurora, furthermore into the technocratic religious faction known as 'The Abbot' due to his faith, he quickly became a member, and due to his knowledge in a rather large variety of field, became a very respected member very quickly. Training those of all creeds and conditions in various forms of war, charismatic speech, and medicine, he was quickly regaled as a living Saint. He is currently the only man to hold the title of 'Father' within The Abbot, reserved for those of only the highest standing. His efforts would be noticed by Vault 119 and The Fraserites as well, Waltz then being invited to teach the rest of the Tripartite his methods and practices, hoping to help them gain a better control over the region. His life became much calmer, the old holotape he had from his daughter the only thing keeping him from turning away from his path.

Though he did have a recorded fall from grace, not too long after he played the holotape to it's breaking point, he went on a drunken bender in Vault territory causing a rather large cost of damages to a number of stores, and impregnating a prostitute before wandering off, disappearing from Aurora history for some time. He would eventually return not saying much about where he went off to, more than sheepish due to his method of departure. Though instead of exile, he was met with praise upon his return.

he was met by a woman, maybe mid 30s, missing an arm from the bicep down offered him a gift. The same holotape that broke years ago now in working condition again, Waltyz taught her the basics of medicine, child care, instructorship and all the responsibilities it had. That same girl would be called Andromeda later in life.

He was met by a hearty boy who wanted to learn how to fight properly, defend those who could not defend themselves, and with such a strong moral conviction he had not spoken a word in three years. Waltz would teach him how to use a hammer, how to move with finesse and swift brtality in a melee fight. The boy would later be known as Heracles in the coming years.

He taught a young girl the basics of tracking and speechcraft, letting her know how to make a person beleive what they said in earnest, letting them become more open to conversation, and allowing them to take a peaceful way out. The girl was born with the name Khaira.

He liberated his own child from a group of slavers, tracking her down after years, beaten, ravaged, and scarred, both mentally and physically. Waltz left no one in that camp not in a cage or with a collar alive. The girl was not born with a name, and Waltz dared not ruin her already fragile mentality with the truth of her parent's status. She would be called Gehenna when she chose a name, and Waltz taught her everything he possibly could.

Waltz would meet a band of weary men, women, and children near a crashed out bus. He would teach them of Aurora.

Do Not Remove: 2299

[Arengin Union]

Old Man Logan: Fallout Edition

[Vacif]

Name: Kioshi Takano
Age:
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 5'9, 157 lbs
Birthplace: Vancouver, British Columbia
Occupation: Farmer
Level: 6
EXP: 2500/3450
Skills:

• Melee Weapons, Guns, Survival
• Barter: 15
• Energy Weapons: 15
• Explosives: 25
• Guns: 55
• Lockpick: 15
• Medicine: 25
• Melee Weapons: 30
• Repair: 25
• Science: 20
• Sneak: 15
• Speech: 15
• Survival: 50
• Unarmed: 15

SPECIAL

• S: 5
• P: 5
• E: 5
• C: 5
• I: 7
• A: 5
• L: 5

Perks:

• L2 - Swift Learner
• L4 - Awareness
• L6 - Educated
• L6 - Toughness

Equipment:

• Assault Carbine with cold hammer forged barrel, forged receiver, free-float barrel, carry strap, flashlight, forward grip, 30 round magazine, and upgraded springs
• Inglis Hi-Power with threaded barrel and suppressor
• Machete

• Combat Armour
• Combat webbing

• First Aid Kit
• IMP x3
• 1L Canteen of clean water

• Four magazines of 5.56x45mm + 1 AP Mag
• 3 Magazines of 9x19mm
• Weapon maintenance kit
• Bed roll
• Backpack
• 80 tabs
• 40 caps
• Carton of Cigarettes
• Deck of cards
• Matches

Biography: Born on March 18, 2047 in Mount Saint Joseph Hospital, Kioshi grew up in the middle class of New Westminster. The pre-war ghoul to be grew up watching the world slowly tear itself apart, inspiring him to go into an environmental field, hoping to do something to save their planet and their species. With his goal in mind, he pursued it with steely determination. He often spent his youth exploring British Columbia's wilderness or volunteering anywhere he could. He studied urban and environmental sustainability at the University of Fraser Valley. When the US began consuming Canadian natural resources at an unsustainable rate, he along with his classmates were the first in line in the protests against American consumption. As the years went on, it became increasingly clear that the American government would not be letting up.

Initially he was not an advocate for violence. He'd always believed in peaceful protest but as American occupational forces time and time again disregarded them, if not outright assaulting them, his will began to falter. Eventually he sat at home as he watched downtown descend into chaos as protests became riots against Vancouver's occupational forces. As outright lethal force was authorized against protesters, and civil rights were heavily infringed on, this spurred his will to fight. Still in contact with some old classmates turned fighters, he'd use them as his in.

It wasn't long before he was back in the wilderness that he'd explored as a child, instead of admiring the natural beauty, he trained amidst it's utter devastation. No longer did people peacefully protest. If there was any resistance it was of the armed kind as a veritable guerrilla war broke out in the urban and suburban jungle. If there was one benefit to one's home nation agreeing to being annexed, it was that their military was left intact upon disbanding. Military equipment, trained personnel, all available to the resistance.

However for all their will, and all their fight it wasn't them that got the Americans out of Canada. It was nuclear hell fire as America ceased to exist as a single unified entity. Order broke down, men deserted their postings, and civil society fell apart. With much of the resistance meeting the same fate as their American opponents, Kioshi walked back to his home in Westminster. An empty apartment, his family long since gone during the insurrection. Without an idea or organization to fight for, or an opponent to engage, he wandered aimlessly, sometimes looking dangerously at his own guns. In his eyes he didn't have much to live for, but continued to survive.

One day he found himself in the Pacific US during late March. It was the first time the Green had expanded, and expand it did. He quickly found himself bathing in an unhealthy amount of radiation he couldn't hope to possibly escape. Believing himself to die of radiation exposure, he became determined to go home, and die in a place that he was familiar with. Though curiously his skin began to decompose, suffering from some kind of necrosis. Yet he didn't die.

He examined himself, and quickly found that he was quite alright. As time went on it appeared he wasn't the only one to become afflicted with ghoulification. It wasn't long before a new kind of prejudice arose as people segregated themselves from each other. Kioshi stayed in New Westminster, now a predominantly ghoul settlement. He found companionship in this new ghoulish bunch as they banded together to survive. Using his vast knowledge of the environment, he laid down his arms, and stored away his armour as he began a more simple life of farming.

This went well for a good two centuries or so before the Haida arrived. Now once again endangered by an outside foe, he was fast to pick up arms again and join the defense. His skills dulled with time, but with enough time and targets he was quickly back to his old skill level. Unfortunately the Haida simply had more spongy warriors than they had bullets, and they were forced to retreat, Kioshi leaving many of his personal affects inside of his locked apartment.

Now without a home again he wanders the Aurora wastes, searching for anyway he can help in the war effort.
Do Not Remove: 2299

[The Central Shadow Nation]

<wants to make hippie super mutant
<already super mutant

[Shadowwell]

<wants to make hippie super mutant
<already super mutant

Ok, there isnt exactly a limit on Super Mutants.

[Arengin Union]

I mean we already have one hippie. Why not more?

[Anowa]

QUEST COMPLETED!

Main Quest
• Axios!

With the respect, and in some cases, admiration, of the local forces, you can now call yourself equals among those who have volunteered for service.

GIVEN BY:

• N/A

AWARDED TO:

• Nicholas Klutz
• Iris Harrison
• Dennis Polaski
• Marcus Granite
• Carver
• Nona
• Diggory
• Vlatko "Fix" Richard
• Nick Waters
• Edward "Viking" Konig
• Serina Zima
• Joseph Nemo
• Liam McDonald

OBJECTIVE:

• Hold the line.

LOCATION:

• Bus #8, Vault 119, Bastion

REWARD:

• 1,700 XP

Main Quest
• Exodus

With a place in the populace of the Aurora Region, you're safe, for now.

GIVEN BY:

N/A

AWARDED TO:

• Cole Parson
• Marcus Granite
• Tara Cubs
• Carver
• Nona
• Diggory
• Nick Waters
• Whisper
• Lucky
• Vlatko "Fix" Richard
• Edward "Viking" Konig
• Ms. Catalina
• Serina Zima
• Joseph Nemo
• Liam McDonald
• Isaac Malone
• John Townson
• Daniel Hill
• Quinn Davidson
• Stephen Rogers
• June Raid
• Quinn Davidson

OBJECTIVE:

• Head North
• Survive the Ambush
• ???
• Get planning.

LOCATION:

The Narrows

REWARD:

400 XP

[Ormata]

Name: Micah

Age: 144
Gender: Male
Physical Description:

Standing at 8’, Micah is overall shorter than most of his brethren, though that does not discount him from having a great mass of musculature, lean and clean for the hunt that laid before him. As befits a Super Mutant, he is bald and his skin is green. A dozen cuts and scars cover Micah’s body as a testament towards his time staying away from the greater world.

Birthplace: Vault 17
Occupation: Abbot Sibling
Level: 6
EXP: 0/3,450
Skills:

• Barter: 12
• Energy Weapons: 12
• Explosives: 12
• Guns: 78 [!]
• Lockpick: 12
• Medicine: 16
• Melee Weapons: 45 [!]
• Repair: 21
• Science: 16
• Sneak: 63 [!]
• Speech: 12
• Survival: 40
• Unarmed: 26

SPECIAL

• S: 10 (8 + Racial 2)
• P: 4 [3 + Item 1]
• E: 10 (8 + Racial 2)
• C: 3
• I: 5
• A: 11
• L: 7

Perks:

• Level 2: Gun Nut
• Level 4: Faster Healing
• Level 6: Rad Child

Equipment:

- Terminus; Single-Shot Rolling BLock rifle chambered for .50 caliber rounds. Equipped with a 8x scope and bipod, the weapon’s a plain gun at that, though clearly of a good enough quality to be distinguished from most others in the wastes. Measures 2 meters in total length.
- Oedipus; Bardiche with a basket hilt for the guard, the weapon is humorously named if anything could be such by a Super Mutant.

- Prescription Glasses
- Cloak, Worn
- Satchel, Worn

- Healing Powder x2
- Dried Meat, Misc. x5
- Water Gourd w/ Sling

- Caps x22, Tabs x20
- Flint & Steel

- .50 BMG x24

Biography:

Born in Vault 17, Micah’s original name is one which he frankly doesn’t remember. As a young boy he’s run-about, talking to the others, playing the little games like Soldiers and Commies, play his Atomic Blastzone, go onto the terminal and load-up little things, design worlds in his head that were more than the steel walls about him and the ever-humming lights. Micah would go to school, learning of history and of the war and of everything else that was before the doors closing, and he would recite it all back, word for word. He learned his grammar, math, was excited to take the GOAT. It was a time of interesting things, where a world a danger outside seemed less dangerous and more interesting. It was a world where the reality was separate from the truth and he could live in a lie.

Then the doors opened. Micah hadn’t even taken that GOAT yet, he was so young, and along with the rest of the Vault he would go on to join the Master’s army in the infinite plans of Unity. His skin turned to green, his mind to a slow clockwork machine that ran yet was always late, and the Cathedral turned into his home, the prayers into his mantra. He found purpose there, in that army, in that Cathedral, with the priests who swore that they held no ill will towards the rest. Micah found his calm in the midst of a fight, when nothing was there to distract and nothing there to detract from the sheer joy, the outburst of emotion and adrenaline that coursed through one’s body, and the thrill of crushing an enemy beneath you. It mattered just a little who that enemy was, just a bit, but in his mind they were always an enemy, always deserving of death. They opposed Unity and therefore fought for Chaos, for the enemy whomever they were, opposed to peace in the wastes. They always deserved what they got, in his mind.

When the Master died, Micah left that place to go north. It really only mattered that he would leave the place, in the whole of honesty, and the ideas of Marcus did not agree with the Super Mutant. Peace with the rest, no, that could never be had, and the whole of the wasteland seemed to hate the mutant then, knowing the allegiance, knowing the past. He would go north, finding himself at odds against a Deathclaw while moving through the ruins of Yreka, and the two found. Micah left with his life, wounded deeply across the leg and limping. The Deathclaw would be broken, dead by eating a frag grenade. Micah knew he could not continue, and as such hid in the mountains, finding a cave as he recuperate his strength. After some time, the Mutant found it to be a good cave, a nice cave, and settled-in permanently.

The Mutant would take it upon himself to not kill those who passed on the road, to not find the joy in battle, perfecting instead the fine art of hunting, taking-down large game for food. It was a pleasant experience, one he would enjoy taking-up again as a hobby, with the fun of the games that he once played, and furthermore he could eat what he killed. It was never a good idea to do that before, with the humans, as they were always bloody and pulped by the time the fight ended and really weren’t that much at all to begin with, but with the running elk and Yao Guai he could bash the skill in, eat the corpse. Cold meat, as it never could stay warm, was found to be rather unpleasant, and as such Micah would turn to cooking. It wasn’t particularly hard, given the long time he had, and the joy of a well-made meal was a thing that could make him dance. He made good work on the art of the bow, stringing it with the elastic pieces of meat that was far too stringy for his tastes, and after finding that to snap after just a few uses, wove. Patience was never Micah’s strong suit, but with a single-minded determination born of boredom, he would continue. It was a good enough task.

Then the men without shirts, the men wearing tires with animal in their eyes, the Raiders came north. Some were normal people, driven towards the eventual state of a murderer, a thief, a killer. Some embraced their lot in life, becoming at home with it, nurturing it to full health. He watched them from his cave, listening to them, letting most pass. They were too many, and the joys of bloodlust were not convincing enough to risk his life again. The purpose behind it was murky, clouded, and he could not discern their intentions at first. They spoke in the distance, and the large Mutant never could get close enough to listen to the words. That continued until, one day, he saw a group of the same go north. They were different, in his eyes, some holding the faces of cattle ready for the slaughter.

Micah followed them up north, where he would watch the winds turn to hellish storms and feel the pricks against his skin. Those he followed turned into corpses or worse, ghouls that held little in the mind and body who attacked like dogs and were killed as such. The Green had come upon them, something the Mutant simply walked through. The world was darker, there, and the creatures in the dirt were far worse than anything he had seen before. They were, some, massive creatures that could easily kill a man in full Power Armor. He never would fight them, taking the side of caution over the possibility of further injury.

Coming upon the Aurora region, some twenty years ago, Micah has since found a new Cathedral and a new following, also finding new toys by which to dispense his hunt.

Do Not Remove: 2299

[Anowa]

Name: Micah

(Image)

Age: 144
Gender: Male
Physical Description:

Standing at 8’, Micah is overall shorter than most of his brethren, though that does not discount him from having a great mass of musculature, lean and clean for the hunt that laid before him. As befits a Super Mutant, he is bald and his skin is green. A dozen cuts and scars cover Micah’s body as a testament towards his time staying away from the greater world.

Birthplace: Vault 17
Occupation: Abbot Sibling
Level: 6
EXP: 0/3,450
Skills:

• Barter: 12
• Energy Weapons: 12
• Explosives: 12
• Guns: 78 [!]
• Lockpick: 12
• Medicine: 16
• Melee Weapons: 45 [!]
• Repair: 21
• Science: 16
• Sneak: 63 [!]
• Speech: 12
• Survival: 40
• Unarmed: 26

SPECIAL

• S: 10 (8 + Racial 2)
• P: 4 [3 + Item 1]
• E: 10 (8 + Racial 2)
• C: 3
• I: 5
• A: 11
• L: 7

Perks:

• Level 2: Gun Nut
• Level 4: Faster Healing
• Level 6: Rad Child

Equipment:

- Terminus; Single-Shot Rolling BLock rifle chambered for .50 caliber rounds. Equipped with a 8x scope and bipod, the weapon’s a plain gun at that, though clearly of a good enough quality to be distinguished from most others in the wastes. Measures 2 meters in total length.
- Oedipus; Bardiche with a basket hilt for the guard, the weapon is humorously named if anything could be such by a Super Mutant.

- Prescription Glasses
- Cloak, Worn
- Satchel, Worn

- Healing Powder x2
- Dried Meat, Misc. x5
- Water Gourd w/ Sling

- Caps x22, Tabs x20
- Flint & Steel

- .50 BMG x24

Biography:

Born in Vault 17, Micah’s original name is one which he frankly doesn’t remember. As a young boy he’s run-about, talking to the others, playing the little games like Soldiers and Commies, play his Atomic Blastzone, go onto the terminal and load-up little things, design worlds in his head that were more than the steel walls about him and the ever-humming lights. Micah would go to school, learning of history and of the war and of everything else that was before the doors closing, and he would recite it all back, word for word. He learned his grammar, math, was excited to take the GOAT. It was a time of interesting things, where a world a danger outside seemed less dangerous and more interesting. It was a world where the reality was separate from the truth and he could live in a lie.

Then the doors opened. Micah hadn’t even taken that GOAT yet, he was so young, and along with the rest of the Vault he would go on to join the Master’s army in the infinite plans of Unity. His skin turned to green, his mind to a slow clockwork machine that ran yet was always late, and the Cathedral turned into his home, the prayers into his mantra. He found purpose there, in that army, in that Cathedral, with the priests who swore that they held no ill will towards the rest. Micah found his calm in the midst of a fight, when nothing was there to distract and nothing there to detract from the sheer joy, the outburst of emotion and adrenaline that coursed through one’s body, and the thrill of crushing an enemy beneath you. It mattered just a little who that enemy was, just a bit, but in his mind they were always an enemy, always deserving of death. They opposed Unity and therefore fought for Chaos, for the enemy whomever they were, opposed to peace in the wastes. They always deserved what they got, in his mind.

When the Master died, Micah left that place to go north. It really only mattered that he would leave the place, in the whole of honesty, and the ideas of Marcus did not agree with the Super Mutant. Peace with the rest, no, that could never be had, and the whole of the wasteland seemed to hate the mutant then, knowing the allegiance, knowing the past. He would go north, finding himself at odds against a Deathclaw while moving through the ruins of Yreka, and the two found. Micah left with his life, wounded deeply across the leg and limping. The Deathclaw would be broken, dead by eating a frag grenade. Micah knew he could not continue, and as such hid in the mountains, finding a cave as he recuperate his strength. After some time, the Mutant found it to be a good cave, a nice cave, and settled-in permanently.

The Mutant would take it upon himself to not kill those who passed on the road, to not find the joy in battle, perfecting instead the fine art of hunting, taking-down large game for food. It was a pleasant experience, one he would enjoy taking-up again as a hobby, with the fun of the games that he once played, and furthermore he could eat what he killed. It was never a good idea to do that before, with the humans, as they were always bloody and pulped by the time the fight ended and really weren’t that much at all to begin with, but with the running elk and Yao Guai he could bash the skill in, eat the corpse. Cold meat, as it never could stay warm, was found to be rather unpleasant, and as such Micah would turn to cooking. It wasn’t particularly hard, given the long time he had, and the joy of a well-made meal was a thing that could make him dance. He made good work on the art of the bow, stringing it with the elastic pieces of meat that was far too stringy for his tastes, and after finding that to snap after just a few uses, wove. Patience was never Micah’s strong suit, but with a single-minded determination born of boredom, he would continue. It was a good enough task.

Then the men without shirts, the men wearing tires with animal in their eyes, the Raiders came north. Some were normal people, driven towards the eventual state of a murderer, a thief, a killer. Some embraced their lot in life, becoming at home with it, nurturing it to full health. He watched them from his cave, listening to them, letting most pass. They were too many, and the joys of bloodlust were not convincing enough to risk his life again. The purpose behind it was murky, clouded, and he could not discern their intentions at first. They spoke in the distance, and the large Mutant never could get close enough to listen to the words. That continued until, one day, he saw a group of the same go north. They were different, in his eyes, some holding the faces of cattle ready for the slaughter.

Micah followed them up north, where he would watch the winds turn to hellish storms and feel the pricks against his skin. Those he followed turned into corpses or worse, ghouls that held little in the mind and body who attacked like dogs and were killed as such. The Green had come upon them, something the Mutant simply walked through. The world was darker, there, and the creatures in the dirt were far worse than anything he had seen before. They were, some, massive creatures that could easily kill a man in full Power Armor. He never would fight them, taking the side of caution over the possibility of further injury.

Coming upon the Aurora region, some twenty years ago, Micah has since found a new Cathedral and a new following, also finding new toys by which to dispense his hunt.

Do Not Remove: 2299

Accepted.

[Vacif]

So my laptop shot itself and I can’t get posts up for now. Sorry!