Fallout: New Frontier (OOC|Fallout|DEAD)

[Empire of Donner land]

Name: Carter Bucksly
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Physical Description: Sgt.Carter Bucksly stands at 5'11", 180 lbs. He has no gang identifying tattoos or tattoos at all upon inspection. His left hand is scarred and his left index finger is missing its tip, upon questioning he answered: "I mixed some chemicals wrong and the whole thing went up."
Birthplace: Junktown, State of Shady, New California.
SPECIAL

• S: 8
• P: 2
• E:4
• C:5
• I: 10
• A: 8
• L: 3

Skills: Explosives, Small Guns, Sneak
Perks:

• Forgettable:
  You have a knack for coming under the gaze of those greater or more important than you and coming out unscathed, the only problem is... they don't remember you. (When in combat you won't be a priority target. Though you'll rarely be recognized for accomplishing anything in the field.)

Equipment: (

• Demolitions
  - H&K MP9
  - Bayonet
  - 4x C-4 M112 Demo Charges
  - Radio Detonator
  - 8x Blasting Caps
  - 4x Crimp Fuzes
  - NCR Army Battle Uniform
  - NCR Army Engineer's Toolkit
  - C3 Gas Mask
  - Mess Tin
  - Bedroll

Biography:
Sgt. Bucksly was born in 2253 in the City of Junktown, in the State of Shady. Due to a lack of records, we cannot verify his date of birth, but Sgt. Bucksly maintains with great confidence that he was born on November 10th. Sgt. Bucksly lived with his parents Terrence Bucksly and Annette Bucksly "comfortably" for 20 years, however, he felt "that we could do so much better." In 2273, Sgt. Bucksly decided to save up enough money to travel to New Vegas and "try to make it big." Things, however, turned for the worst. In 2275, Sgt. Bucksly finally saved up enough money for the trip to New Vegas and more to cover any other expenses. Raiders had caught wind of this kidnapped his Father and Mother with the goal of extorting this saved up fortune, Terrence and Annette Bucksly were nowhere to be found. Sgt. Bucksly was informed at this point by the Police to not pay the ransom. Later that week after informing the Raiders he would not pay by note exchanging, Terrence and Annette Bucksly were found dead and mutilated on pikes 2 miles outside Junktown, by Local Police.

It was then that Sgt. Bucksly had decided that the N.C.R Government and Authority, in general, were to blame for this. He paid for the closed casket funeral of his parents out of his savings and went to New Vegas alone. Sgt. Bucksly arrived in the Mojave area at the Mojave Outpost in 2277 before the First Battle of Hoover Dam, Sgt. Bucksly played no part in the fighting at Hoover Dam, Instead, Sgt. Bucksly lost all of his savings in gambling and drinking at The Strip as most do without a penny made. With needing a source for money, Sgt. Bucksly found himself enrolled in the service of the Great Khans in 2278, learning to cook up drugs and even explosives for money in Bitter Springs for a few weeks, stating that "I picked it up really quickly, and once they knew I was so good at it, I didn't even have to get beat up for the membership!"

2 Days later, the NCR entered Bitter Springs and attacked it. The attack on Bitter Springs is still controversial and marred with confusing fact and fiction, but Sgt. Bucksly was able to give eyewitness testimony to what happened from his point of view.

"It was confusing as all hell, bullets were ripping through the walls and more than a few of those working around me caught some lead in the first part of the attack. I decided to hide under a workbench during the fighting, then things got really quiet when I heard a lot of gunshots behind the camp. No one told me we were retreating, but I guess it was because I wasn't really a Khan or all the confusion. It was only after some NCR Troopers found me cowering under that bench and took me captive that I figured out what happened from all the talk... I could see it on those Trooper's faces."

Sgt. Bucksly was arrested and transported to the NCR Correctional Facility where he served time for his work with the Great Khans until 2281 when the NCRCF Prison Revolt occurred. Sgt. Bucksly admitted that he played a major role in Samuel Cooke's plan by becoming the Prison Camp's Supply Clerk and arranging blast powder to get in Cookes' hands. Sgt. Bucksly admits he was somewhat enamored by his revolutionary political philosophy, and helped for that reason, more than him just wanting freedom.

Sgt. Bucksly followed Samuel Cookes to Vault 19, where he began production of high explosives for the Powder Gangers rather than stay at the NCRCF, creating IEDs that would go to maim and kill Troopers patrolling the Mojave as well as Caravans. When it was revealed to him that the Powder Gangers would join the Great Khans, Sgt. Bucksly decided against this decision and left the Powder Gangers due to his previous encounter with the NCR while in the Great Khans, this also alienated him from Samuel Cooke. This was when Sgt. Bucksly first encountered Courier Six. when asked for Intelligence purposes on any info they could give on Courier Six all Sgt. Bucksly could say was "She was a Woman on a Mission, I wasn't gonna get in her way. Especially after what she did at the NCRCF... She was the last straw on deciding if I would stay or go, and I did not want to be in a hundred miles of her."

Sgt. Bucksly then decided that, between the NCR and Caesar's Legion, he'd choose the NCR and enlisted under a false name. When the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam came, he fought bravely (if only for his life), earning him a Battlefield Promotion to Sergeant. When the battle ended, he saw first hand the surrender of General Oliver when Courier Six's Army arrived. Sgt. Bucksly was reported by his Senior Officer to be laughing hysterically after this encounter during the withdrawal of the NCR Military which was "mistaken" for him going crazy from the intense fighting. While in Psychiatry, his real Identity was found when his photo was cross-referenced to NCRCF Prisoner records and arrested.

In 2283, he was given a plea deal, fill a gap as a Sergeant and Explosives Expert in the 63rd Battalion or continue to serve his time in prison for his crimes against the NCR and potentially executed as a Terrorist for his acts under Samuel Cooke. Sgt. Bucksly had this to say at the end of his interview, "It's not like I've got a fucking choice, where we're going can't be worse than the Mojave right?"
Do Not Remove: 2299

[Anowa]

Name: Carter Bucksly
SPECIAL

• S: 8
• P: 2
• E:4
• C:5
• I: 10
• A: 8
• L: 3

Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Forgettable:
You have a knack for coming under the gaze of those greater or more important than you and coming out unscathed, the only problem is... they don't remember you. (When in combat you won't be a priority target. Though you'll rarely be recognized for accomplishing anything in the field.)

---

Equipment Added:
Demolitions
- H&K MP9
- Bayonet
- 4x C-4 M112 Demo Charges
- Radio Detonator
- 8x Blasting Caps
- 4x Crimp Fuzes
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- NCR Army Engineer's Toolkit
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

[Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich]

(Image)

Name: Jonathan Morris, ye can call me Jonny
Age:22
Gender:Male
Physical Description: 5 Foot 10, around 135 pounds, got me a nice scar on me leg, got a nice little dragon tatoo on my back.
Birthplace:Shady Sands, of the NCR.
SPECIAL

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

Skills:I'm charming, if I do say so. Smart too, in a few senses. I'm a good listener, won't interrupt, as well as a good marksman, as my friends would say. Better than them by miles, although that ain't saying much. I'm not extremely strong, but I can talk my way out of a lot of situations.
Perks:

• N/A

Equipment:

Biography:
I haven't had one of the saddest or hardest lives, not by a long shot. But my life was never the easiest either. My dad was a battle-bred fighter, although he did care for us and worked his bones in order to let us live a better life than he had as a kid. My mother though, was a different story. She left me nearly after I was born, so I never knew her much, if at all. I was generally an easygoing kid, liked playing games with the others, and made a ton of friends, like Timmy, Rocky, and Jae. I had others, but those were the ones that stuck with me thick and thin, through my hardships and my easy times. True friends, those that are hard to come by.
We had good times, but we weren't the strongest or toughest, far from it, and we were picked on by bullies and gangs of the sort. Timmy was hit hardest though, since most of the girls were interested in him by the time we were teens. That made most of the other boys definitely NOT like us, and we were attacked a lot. So, we learned to defend ourselves. Got training from my dad, and we fought back against the bullies enough and enough until they got wise and left us alone. But I remember very vividly one gang. I forgot what they were called, but I do know they nicknamed their leader "Bear" on account of him being especially big. He liked this one girl, I was told, but she liked Timmy, so he decided to show him "who was boss." in his words, not mine. We were just walking back, to train a bit with my dad, until he and his lackeys attacked. We were surprised, but we regained our senses quickly, and good too. We began scuffling with him, hoping he and his lackeys would tire, but we were about equal in fighting. Poor timmy, he was fighting Bear and one of his lackeys. But finally, Timmy managed to get a kick at bear's neck, causing him to lose his balance and fall down. We didn't push our luck, and we ran to live another day.

When we were about 16, we discovered the joy and money in protection stuff. Kid would pay us a few caps to walk with them across the street, and if any bullies came along and decided to pick on them, we'd stop it. We made some good friends, whom we taught fighting to, and our thing EXPLODED. We were making money, and we managed to save enough to buy 4 of us, Me, Timmy,Rocky, and Jae, pistols. My dad also decided to train us, and we got VERY good. We were possibly the best marksmen in shady sands that were under 21. Then, we were assigned to about 5 people at once, so we split up to cover them all.Timmy and I went for one of them.That's when the bear and his lackeys decided to strike again. They hit us, and we fought back. One of them took out a bloody machete, and tried to cut my leg off! I dodged it, that's how I atill have 2 legs, but it left me with a scar on that leg that I mentioned earlier. Timmy and I began scuffling, but we saw that they were there to KILL us. So, as bear raised his machete to cut off Timmy's head off, Timmy and I both whipped out our pistols and shot him. He hit his heart, I hit his brain, and he fell down, lifeless. His lackeys took one look at us, and ran for their lives like little rats scurrying away. After that, I was shaken, as was Timmy, since it was our first time killing somebody, but we recovered. The rest of my earlier life was more uneventful, till I turned 20. I saw an army recruitment poster, so Timmy, Jae, Rocky and I decided to join. It was sad for me, but I braved through it, and promised my dad I would come back.

Arrived, and we fit in very well. Soon, we were sent to the colorado river, where we had a good time dodging potshots from legion snipers, killing legion soldiers whom were dumb enough to go on our side of the river. We were able to get info from the poor mexicans whom had moved, expecting a better life. If only they knew. I made some new friends during that time, and my bond with Timmy, Jae, and Rocky grew only stronger. Somehow, through divine providence it must have been, we survived, with the only casualty was Jae, whom was shot on the arm, but that was fixed up quickly. We were a good company I suppose, but one day, our collective luck ran out. We were ambushed, and seemingly trapped behind waves of fire. Each of our shots were almost surely fatal, but we were losing men due to the sheer firepower they had. Called for an evacuation, but the vertibirds were getting Fucked over by rockets. Finally, though, they landed, and as we were running to the choppers, we somehow managed to NOT take casualties, as if god had decided that enough was enough. That was a hellhole, and when it ended and I was offered a leave, I took it, and managed to get back to Shady Sands, and found my dad. We chatted a bit, I told him my dreams, to own a house, be a real man and whatnot, protect the weak and such. He told me about the portland campaign. The pay from there could get me closer to my dream, so I volounteered, and to my surprise? They took me in. I don't want to be a nobody, a drifter, living on the edge. I'm going to be something, and do something. This? This is just gonna get me closer than ever.
Do Not Remove: 2299

I fixed it, i think.

[The Great Swedish Empire]

I'm kinda thinking about making a Commissar character that enforces morale and discipline in the ranks. He won't be actually part of the command structure and acts instead as an advisor and a political ambassador to the NCR. He would have the power to execute those that he sees as incompetent or a danger to the battalion but I won't actually do that. Despite technically being high ranking he often fights on the front line in order to inspire the troopers. Is that okay?

[Anowa]

I'm kinda thinking about making a Commissar character that enforces morale and discipline in the ranks. He won't be actually part of the command structure and acts instead as an advisor and a political ambassador to the NCR. He would have the power to execute those that he sees as incompetent or a danger to the battalion but I won't actually do that. Despite technically being high ranking he often fights on the front line in order to inspire the troopers. Is that okay?

I'm afraid I'll have to decline. The NCR doesn't have room for political officers in it's structure, being a republican nation.

More often than not the looming threat of death is worse for morale and discipline than the weariness caused by war.

[The Great Swedish Empire]

I'm kinda thinking about making a Commissar character that enforces morale and discipline in the ranks. He won't be actually part of the command structure and acts instead as an advisor and a political ambassador to the NCR. He would have the power to execute those that he sees as incompetent or a danger to the battalion but I won't actually do that. Despite technically being high ranking he often fights on the front line in order to inspire the troopers. Is that okay?

I'm afraid I'll have to decline. The NCR doesn't have room for political officers in it's structure, being a republican nation.

More often than not the looming threat of death is worse for morale and discipline than the weariness caused by war.

He doesn't execute people but he does have the power. I won't actually be killing anyone in the battalion but I'm just there to enforce morale in a positive manner. Just hear me out but if that doesn't work then feel to refuse my idea. My idea for Commissars is that they are more like spreaders of propaganda. Ever since the failure of the Hoover Dam the morale of the NCR has been damaged and so Commissars are needed in order to bring back the spirit in the army. Cast away your perceptions of Soviet Commissars or Warhammer's Blaming Commissars. They're only job is to inspire and convince their own to go forth and spread the old glory of the NCR.

Winning is everything, but the trick is to know where the winning really is. Killing the enemy is the job of the regular trooper. The task of a commissar is more subtle. Commissars find out what to win. Or what kind of win will really count in the long term. They have to use everything they have, every insight, every angle. They are the interpreters of combat, the translators. They give meaning to war, subtlety, purpose even. Killing is the most abhorrent, mindless profession known to man. Their job is to justify this violence. To drive the soldiers forward and make sure they fight. Their role is to fashion the manifest destiny ideology and actions of the NCR into a positive force for all. In places that have been conquered recently by the NCR, they turn to the population and it is their job to convince them of the greatness of the NCR. That they should be glad that they have been absorbed into the NCR and should prepare to reap their benefits.

Of course, there is the execution part that you have no doubt thought of. Commissar have authority to execute any member of a battalion if they see fit but the action itself is almost never used and seldom talked about. To execute a member or the NCR requires a shitload of paperwork and is rarely done by the Commissar himself and instead of a firing squad. Executions are only given to the following: fraggers, rape of POWs or civilians, war-crimes (never given), abandoning your fellow comrades, and repeated refusal to obey orders. In many ways, it is far more difficult to prosecute for executions than an actual War Court but their judgement is given on the field where the War Courts are far away. Most of the time they only threaten execution on the waywards of a unit to get their ass back in line.

Commissars often fight on the frontline in order to inspire and as a result have high casualty numbers.

They are the voice of the NCR to the wasteland and the reassuring face to the men to inspire them forth.

I hope you consider my concept for a character but if you don't like it feel free to say so however you want. I won't contest any further once you give the word.

[Anowa]

I'm afraid I'll have to decline. The NCR doesn't have room for political officers in it's structure, being a republican nation.

More often than not the looming threat of death is worse for morale and discipline than the weariness caused by war.

He doesn't execute people but he does have the power. I won't actually be killing anyone in the battalion but I'm just there to enforce morale in a positive manner. Just hear me out but if that doesn't work then feel to refuse my idea. My idea for Commissars is that they are more like spreaders of propaganda. Ever since the failure of the Hoover Dam the morale of the NCR has been damaged and so Commissars are needed in order to bring back the spirit in the army. Cast away your perceptions of Soviet Commissars or Warhammer's Blaming Commissars. They're only job is to inspire and convince their own to go forth and spread the old glory of the NCR.

Winning is everything, but the trick is to know where the winning really is. Killing the enemy is the job of the regular trooper. The task of a commissar is more subtle. Commissars find out what to win. Or what kind of win will really count in the long term. They have to use everything they have, every insight, every angle. They are the interpreters of combat, the translators. They give meaning to war, subtlety, purpose even. Killing is the most abhorrent, mindless profession known to man. Their job is to justify this violence. To drive the soldiers forward and make sure they fight. Their role is to fashion the manifest destiny ideology and actions of the NCR into a positive force for all. In places that have been conquered recently by the NCR, they turn to the population and it is their job to convince them of the greatness of the NCR. That they should be glad that they have been absorbed into the NCR and should prepare to reap their benefits.

Of course, there is the execution part that you have no doubt thought of. Commissar have authority to execute any member of a battalion if they see fit but the action itself is almost never used and seldom talked about. To execute a member or the NCR requires a shitload of paperwork and is rarely done by the Commissar himself and instead of a firing squad. Executions are only given to the following: fraggers, rape of POWs or civilians, war-crimes (never given), abandoning your fellow comrades, and repeated refusal to obey orders. In many ways, it is far more difficult to prosecute for executions than an actual War Court but their judgement is given on the field where the War Courts are far away. Most of the time they only threaten execution on the waywards of a unit to get their ass back in line.

Commissars often fight on the frontline in order to inspire and as a result have high casualty numbers.

They are the voice of the NCR to the wasteland and the reassuring face to the men to inspire them forth.

I hope you consider my concept for a character but if you don't like it feel free to say so however you want. I won't contest any further once you give the word.

Here I was thinking I had already given the word.

[Anowa]

(Image)

Name: Jonathan Morris, ye can call me Jonny
Age:22
Gender:Male
Physical Description: 5 Foot 10, around 135 pounds, got me a nice scar on me leg, got a nice little dragon tatoo on my back.
Birthplace:Shady Sands, of the NCR.
SPECIAL

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

Skills:I'm charming, if I do say so. Smart too, in a few senses. I'm a good listener, won't interrupt, as well as a good marksman, as my friends would say. Better than them by miles, although that ain't saying much. I'm not extremely strong, but I can talk my way out of a lot of situations.
Perks:

• N/A

Equipment:

Biography:
I haven't had one of the saddest or hardest lives, not by a long shot. But my life was never the easiest either. My dad was a battle-bred fighter, although he did care for us and worked his bones in order to let us live a better life than he had as a kid. My mother though, was a different story. She left me nearly after I was born, so I never knew her much, if at all. I was generally an easygoing kid, liked playing games with the others, and made a ton of friends, like Timmy, Rocky, and Jae. I had others, but those were the ones that stuck with me thick and thin, through my hardships and my easy times. True friends, those that are hard to come by.
We had good times, but we weren't the strongest or toughest, far from it, and we were picked on by bullies and gangs of the sort. Timmy was hit hardest though, since most of the girls were interested in him by the time we were teens. That made most of the other boys definitely NOT like us, and we were attacked a lot. So, we learned to defend ourselves. Got training from my dad, and we fought back against the bullies enough and enough until they got wise and left us alone. But I remember very vividly one gang. I forgot what they were called, but I do know they nicknamed their leader "Bear" on account of him being especially big. He liked this one girl, I was told, but she liked Timmy, so he decided to show him "who was boss." in his words, not mine. We were just walking back, to train a bit with my dad, until he and his lackeys attacked. We were surprised, but we regained our senses quickly, and good too. We began scuffling with him, hoping he and his lackeys would tire, but we were about equal in fighting. Poor timmy, he was fighting Bear and one of his lackeys. But finally, Timmy managed to get a kick at bear's neck, causing him to lose his balance and fall down. We didn't push our luck, and we ran to live another day.

When we were about 16, we discovered the joy and money in protection stuff. Kid would pay us a few caps to walk with them across the street, and if any bullies came along and decided to pick on them, we'd stop it. We made some good friends, whom we taught fighting to, and our thing EXPLODED. We were making money, and we managed to save enough to buy 4 of us, Me, Timmy,Rocky, and Jae, pistols. My dad also decided to train us, and we got VERY good. We were possibly the best marksmen in shady sands that were under 21. Then, we were assigned to about 5 people at once, so we split up to cover them all.Timmy and I went for one of them.That's when the bear and his lackeys decided to strike again. They hit us, and we fought back. One of them took out a bloody machete, and tried to cut my leg off! I dodged it, that's how I atill have 2 legs, but it left me with a scar on that leg that I mentioned earlier. Timmy and I began scuffling, but we saw that they were there to KILL us. So, as bear raised his machete to cut off Timmy's head off, Timmy and I both whipped out our pistols and shot him. He hit his heart, I hit his brain, and he fell down, lifeless. His lackeys took one look at us, and ran for their lives like little rats scurrying away. After that, I was shaken, as was Timmy, since it was our first time killing somebody, but we recovered. The rest of my earlier life was more uneventful, till I turned 20. I saw an army recruitment poster, so Timmy, Jae, Rocky and I decided to join. It was sad for me, but I braved through it, and promised my dad I would come back.

Arrived, and we fit in very well. Soon, we were sent to the colorado river, where we had a good time dodging potshots from legion snipers, killing legion soldiers whom were dumb enough to go on our side of the river. We were able to get info from the poor mexicans whom had moved, expecting a better life. If only they knew. I made some new friends during that time, and my bond with Timmy, Jae, and Rocky grew only stronger. Somehow, through divine providence it must have been, we survived, with the only casualty was Jae, whom was shot on the arm, but that was fixed up quickly. We were a good company I suppose, but one day, our collective luck ran out. We were ambushed, and seemingly trapped behind waves of fire. Each of our shots were almost surely fatal, but we were losing men due to the sheer firepower they had. Called for an evacuation, but the vertibirds were getting Fucked over by rockets. Finally, though, they landed, and as we were running to the choppers, we somehow managed to NOT take casualties, as if god had decided that enough was enough. That was a hellhole, and when it ended and I was offered a leave, I took it, and managed to get back to Shady Sands, and found my dad. We chatted a bit, I told him my dreams, to own a house, be a real man and whatnot, protect the weak and such. He told me about the portland campaign. The pay from there could get me closer to my dream, so I volounteered, and to my surprise? They took me in. I don't want to be a nobody, a drifter, living on the edge. I'm going to be something, and do something. This? This is just gonna get me closer than ever.
Do Not Remove: 2299

You still have 2 SPECIAL points remaining to allocate.

[The Great Swedish Empire]

He doesn't execute people but he does have the power. I won't actually be killing anyone in the battalion but I'm just there to enforce morale in a positive manner. Just hear me out but if that doesn't work then feel to refuse my idea. My idea for Commissars is that they are more like spreaders of propaganda. Ever since the failure of the Hoover Dam the morale of the NCR has been damaged and so Commissars are needed in order to bring back the spirit in the army. Cast away your perceptions of Soviet Commissars or Warhammer's Blaming Commissars. They're only job is to inspire and convince their own to go forth and spread the old glory of the NCR.

Winning is everything, but the trick is to know where the winning really is. Killing the enemy is the job of the regular trooper. The task of a commissar is more subtle. Commissars find out what to win. Or what kind of win will really count in the long term. They have to use everything they have, every insight, every angle. They are the interpreters of combat, the translators. They give meaning to war, subtlety, purpose even. Killing is the most abhorrent, mindless profession known to man. Their job is to justify this violence. To drive the soldiers forward and make sure they fight. Their role is to fashion the manifest destiny ideology and actions of the NCR into a positive force for all. In places that have been conquered recently by the NCR, they turn to the population and it is their job to convince them of the greatness of the NCR. That they should be glad that they have been absorbed into the NCR and should prepare to reap their benefits.

Of course, there is the execution part that you have no doubt thought of. Commissar have authority to execute any member of a battalion if they see fit but the action itself is almost never used and seldom talked about. To execute a member or the NCR requires a shitload of paperwork and is rarely done by the Commissar himself and instead of a firing squad. Executions are only given to the following: fraggers, rape of POWs or civilians, war-crimes (never given), abandoning your fellow comrades, and repeated refusal to obey orders. In many ways, it is far more difficult to prosecute for executions than an actual War Court but their judgement is given on the field where the War Courts are far away. Most of the time they only threaten execution on the waywards of a unit to get their ass back in line.

Commissars often fight on the frontline in order to inspire and as a result have high casualty numbers.

They are the voice of the NCR to the wasteland and the reassuring face to the men to inspire them forth.

I hope you consider my concept for a character but if you don't like it feel free to say so however you want. I won't contest any further once you give the word.

Here I was thinking I had already given the word.

Right then. I won't do it. Sorry if I have wasted your time and contested your authority. I'll think of something else.

[The Great Swedish Empire]

Name: James Grey
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Physical Description:

Grey is fairly small and compact, making him seem unassuming, and has a wizened face that betrays his ruthless abilities and fighting smarts. A short man, standing at 55 inches and light on his feet at 150.23 pounds. He has a large scar on his bottom belly, the last act of a rival poacher, a grotesque braid of buckled scar-tissue.

Birthplace: Small settlement in the Muir Woods.
SPECIAL

• S: 6
• P:7
• E:4
• C:3
• I:6
• A:8
• L:6

Skills:

Sneak: Moving like a ghost, Grey leaves no trace of tracks in the underbrush and moves without sound. Combined with his camo cloak, he can remain still like a rock of days, barely breathing, barely moving. He knows how to move without being seen, using his camo cloak, he can sneak past anything.

Marksman: An expert with a rifle from his years as a poacher, Grey is able to make long-distance, accurate shots.

Eagle eyes: Gifted with perfect vision and skills in tracking. Grey can find anything in the trees, mountains, and bushes.

Perks:

• N/A

Equipment:

Biography:

Born in the redwood forests in 2246, October 27, to a small cabin and a fairly well off family. Grey's father, Grey Senior, toiled on a local public farm provided by the NCR. But he also had a not-so-legal job as a poacher in the nearby Muir Woods in the north. He was a good hunter, able to track down and hunt rare games for the richer folks of the nearby settlements. Despite his rather illicit trade, many NCR agents came to Senior to recruit him for a scouting mission to go deep into the north to find potential routes for expansion.

As young Grey began to grow up, his father began to pass on his skills to the little boy. The two would often spend weeks in the wild tracking down great beasts to hunt, skin, and hang over the porch. His father thought him the skills of tracking, stealth, the shot, and the killing blow. He thought Grey that they only killed for a reason and to kill without reason was the worst thing a human could ever do. He quickly became a skilled hunter at the age of only fourteen. Everything seemed to great for the Greys, with a stable job and a comfortable house, nothing could go wrong.

And nothing did go wrong, at least not until the night of 2264, January 27. Grey Senior had recently been hired by a wealthy farmstead owner near shady sands to hunt and skin a rare double-headed albino dear that had been spotted near the woods. The creature was a thing of legend but most reports of it were dismissed and many didn't think it real. But Grey's father did. The pair tracked the thing all the way to the edge NCR land. On that fateful night, Grey's father insisted on going alone to make the killing shot, saying that the two of them would make too much noise.

Grey was told to wait under a redwood tree as his father left with his trusty rifle. His last words to Eckell would be: "Don't be afraid."

He waited the whole night but his father didn't come back. As the dawn rose above the great Californian mountains and the ambers to the campfire finally died, Grey realized that his father wasn't coming back and set out to find him.

He did find him. Lying still in the bush was his father with the back of his head blown off and both his hands cut-off, a common punishment for hunters found intruding on another hunters ground. The cut was jagged and sharp, only possible by using a serrated hunting machete. Grey felt something ripped out of him as he buried his father's body under the very redwood tree where he had last told his son never to be afraid of anything.

Grey would swear vengeance on the rival hunter. For the following five years, Grey continued on with life, hunting rare games for a living, but he would eventually find the hunter who had slain his father. When a hunter from distant lands arrived and set up shop in the nearby settlement, Grey went over to size up what may soon be a competitor. But the hunter was nice and kind, inviting Grey over to his house for a drink.

They both drank until they were slurring their words. The hunter let slip that he had once killed a rival hunter that had dared to intrude on his land. Be showed Grey his personal serrated hunting machete that had done the deed.

And Grey drew his own.

It was a withering, blinding fight decided only by upper body strength as their heavy blades clashed together and chipped metal. The hunter's blade passed his gap and made a great gash along his belly but it gave Grey and opening to thrust his blade through the nose bone of the hunter and into his brain.

It was an honor kill that avenged his father, but the local sheriff and the people didn't see it that way. But the keeper of the law was kind enough not to hang Grey on the spot but rather exiled him.

Grey packed up his things and bid farewell to his mother, disappearing into the night.

For the next few years, Grey would jump all over the NCR, serving as a Gaurd for settlements or a mercenary that hunted Raiders down. He never stayed in one place for long, never really feeling like he really belonged.

Eventually, he found a little desolate desert town of Yada on the furthest reach of the NCR, just on the border of the unclaimed Nevada lands. He enlisted in the local militia as local raiders often attacked the fortified town, desperately trying to claim the oil reserve and pump that made the towns fortune.

The retreat of the NCR from Nevada caused immense chaos all over the region, allowing a huge raider cohort to enter the Mojave. But a combined resistance of the people of Nevada threw the raiders back and forced them to retreat. The raiders were encircled and the only way out was a small town at a mountain pass called Yada.

Desperate to retreat, the raiders threw everything they had at the town but the militia held, uncaring for the loses they bore in exchange. By the first night, hundreds on both sides were dead. Grey was a ghost in the night as the battle raged on, killing Dozens and eventually sneaking his way in a camp where the raiders had set up the HQ. He made a brilliant shot that killed the leader and decapitated the snake. The battle after that was lost as the disorganized raiders, caught between hammer and anvil, were utterly exterminated from the earth. Every single member was executed.

As morning rose, the smoldering remains of the town witnessed a convoy of NCR troops rumble through it to reinforce the withdrawing NCR soldiers still in Nevada. Seeing as there was nothing for him left, Grey enlisted in the NCR army, hoping to at last find his place and something to believe in.

Serving as an expert scout over the next two years, Grey has found himself suddenly assigned to the 63rd Battalion as a scout and marksmen.

Do Not Remove: 2299

[Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich]

(Image)

Name: Jonathan Morris, ye can call me Jonny
Age:22
Gender:Male
Physical Description: 5 Foot 10, around 135 pounds, got me a nice scar on me leg, got a nice little dragon tatoo on my back.
Birthplace:Shady Sands, of the NCR.
SPECIAL

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

Skills:I'm charming, if I do say so. Smart too, in a few senses. I'm a good listener, won't interrupt, as well as a good marksman, as my friends would say. Better than them by miles, although that ain't saying much. I'm not extremely strong, but I can talk my way out of a lot of situations.
Perks:

• N/A

Equipment:

Biography:
I haven't had one of the saddest or hardest lives, not by a long shot. But my life was never the easiest either. My dad was a battle-bred fighter, although he did care for us and worked his bones in order to let us live a better life than he had as a kid. My mother though, was a different story. She left me nearly after I was born, so I never knew her much, if at all. I was generally an easygoing kid, liked playing games with the others, and made a ton of friends, like Timmy, Rocky, and Jae. I had others, but those were the ones that stuck with me thick and thin, through my hardships and my easy times. True friends, those that are hard to come by.
We had good times, but we weren't the strongest or toughest, far from it, and we were picked on by bullies and gangs of the sort. Timmy was hit hardest though, since most of the girls were interested in him by the time we were teens. That made most of the other boys definitely NOT like us, and we were attacked a lot. So, we learned to defend ourselves. Got training from my dad, and we fought back against the bullies enough and enough until they got wise and left us alone. But I remember very vividly one gang. I forgot what they were called, but I do know they nicknamed their leader "Bear" on account of him being especially big. He liked this one girl, I was told, but she liked Timmy, so he decided to show him "who was boss." in his words, not mine. We were just walking back, to train a bit with my dad, until he and his lackeys attacked. We were surprised, but we regained our senses quickly, and good too. We began scuffling with him, hoping he and his lackeys would tire, but we were about equal in fighting. Poor timmy, he was fighting Bear and one of his lackeys. But finally, Timmy managed to get a kick at bear's neck, causing him to lose his balance and fall down. We didn't push our luck, and we ran to live another day.

When we were about 16, we discovered the joy and money in protection stuff. Kid would pay us a few caps to walk with them across the street, and if any bullies came along and decided to pick on them, we'd stop it. We made some good friends, whom we taught fighting to, and our thing EXPLODED. We were making money, and we managed to save enough to buy 4 of us, Me, Timmy,Rocky, and Jae, pistols. My dad also decided to train us, and we got VERY good. We were possibly the best marksmen in shady sands that were under 21. Then, we were assigned to about 5 people at once, so we split up to cover them all.Timmy and I went for one of them.That's when the bear and his lackeys decided to strike again. They hit us, and we fought back. One of them took out a bloody machete, and tried to cut my leg off! I dodged it, that's how I atill have 2 legs, but it left me with a scar on that leg that I mentioned earlier. Timmy and I began scuffling, but we saw that they were there to KILL us. So, as bear raised his machete to cut off Timmy's head off, Timmy and I both whipped out our pistols and shot him. He hit his heart, I hit his brain, and he fell down, lifeless. His lackeys took one look at us, and ran for their lives like little rats scurrying away. After that, I was shaken, as was Timmy, since it was our first time killing somebody, but we recovered. The rest of my earlier life was more uneventful, till I turned 20. I saw an army recruitment poster, so Timmy, Jae, Rocky and I decided to join. It was sad for me, but I braved through it, and promised my dad I would come back.

Arrived, and we fit in very well. Soon, we were sent to the colorado river, where we had a good time dodging potshots from legion snipers, killing legion soldiers whom were dumb enough to go on our side of the river. We were able to get info from the poor mexicans whom had moved, expecting a better life. If only they knew. I made some new friends during that time, and my bond with Timmy, Jae, and Rocky grew only stronger. Somehow, through divine providence it must have been, we survived, with the only casualty was Jae, whom was shot on the arm, but that was fixed up quickly. We were a good company I suppose, but one day, our collective luck ran out. We were ambushed, and seemingly trapped behind waves of fire. Each of our shots were almost surely fatal, but we were losing men due to the sheer firepower they had. Called for an evacuation, but the vertibirds were getting Fucked over by rockets. Finally, though, they landed, and as we were running to the choppers, we somehow managed to NOT take casualties, as if god had decided that enough was enough. That was a hellhole, and when it ended and I was offered a leave, I took it, and managed to get back to Shady Sands, and found my dad. We chatted a bit, I told him my dreams, to own a house, be a real man and whatnot, protect the weak and such. He told me about the portland campaign. The pay from there could get me closer to my dream, so I volounteered, and to my surprise? They took me in. I don't want to be a nobody, a drifter, living on the edge. I'm going to be something, and do something. This? This is just gonna get me closer than ever.
Do Not Remove: 2299

fixed it

[Anowa]

(Image)

Name: James Grey
SPECIAL

• S: 6
• P:7
• E:4
• C:3
• I:6
• A:8
• L:6

Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Pegahmagabow:
A keen eye and a knack for moving undetected makes you a great scout. But with the rarity of being seen, you find yourself floundering. (In order to be detected, those looking for you must roll under a 3 regardless of perception. However being spotted means that checks to find you only need to roll under a 18.)

---

Equipment Added:
Scout
- Colt Commando 609
- Binoculars
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

Name: Jonathan Morris, ye can call me Jonny
SPECIAL

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

Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Heart of the Heartland:
Born in the capital of the NCR and the beginnings of your beloved nation, your will to live to fight for her is your greatest trait. But on the other side, also your worst.(When fatally wounded, the OP will flip a coin, is Heads, you will miraculously survive, though with permanent damage. Tails, and you die immediately.)

---

Equipment Added:
Scout
- Colt Commando 609
- Binoculars
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

[The Great Swedish Empire]

Didn't we have a map of the area?

[Anowa]

Didn't we have a map of the area?

Yup. Link for it is just below the Discord link.

[Vacif]

How is food handled since we’re in the field? Tinned food, dried goods? Or do we have a field kitchen further in our lines? Is Swede’s depiction of our FOB accurate?

[Anowa]

How is food handled since we’re in the field? Tinned food, dried goods? Or do we have a field kitchen further in our lines? Is Swede’s depiction of our FOB accurate?

His description of the FOB is accurate.

Though at the moment, you're about 2.5 miles from the FOB. The post apocalyptic equivalent of the forward supply depot is a 10x10 metal arch buried under mud and rock as part of the support trench line. Quartermaster there does quartermastery stuff. Bring a battle buddy.

At the moment, your mess tin should come with a sealed emergency ration of half a pound of pemmican and half a pound of 40/60 Chocolate/Pre-War Preservatives. It's roughly the size of a can of soup.

[Independent States of Tula]

Where do you find such beautiful banners for your RPs Anowa? Anyway, will definitely join up, I’ll get to work on my app after work tonight.

[Anowa]

Where do you find such beautiful banners for your RPs Anowa? Anyway, will definitely join up, I’ll get to work on my app after work tonight.

Luck.
But an app sounds good.

[Independent States of Tula]

Name: Samuel Pope (Prefers to be called Sam)
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 6 Feet and 2 Inches, 185 Ibs
Birthplace: Redding, NCR (Officially) In truth it was Navarro, Enclave.
SPECIAL

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

Skills: Energy Weapons, Speech, Science
Perks:

• Hearts and Minds:
  Due to your rather silver tongue and somewhat Anti-Establishment reputation, convincing members of less established factions to do something to your benefit is easier. However, with your reputation, folks in the NCR aren't likely to take too kindly to such attempts (-6 CHR when dealing with PRC, Abbot, BoS or FEZNV NPCs, but a +8 to CHR when dealing with NCR NPCs)

Equipment:

• M9A1-7 Flamethrower
• Binoculars
• Browning Hi-Power
• NCR Army Flametrooper Uniform
• C3 Gas Mask
• Mess Tin
• Bedroll

Biography: Samuel Pope was not born to a normal family, or even a normal people, he was born on the Enclave base of Navarro. His father was a soldier, his mother, a doctor and scientist. Unfortunately for Sam, he'd only ever get to know one of his parents, as a few weeks after he was born the NCR attacked Navarro. Sam was told his father died heroically, dying to protect the things he loved, like his country, his wife, and his newborn son. In a way he had died in vain if the first reason had been his main one, as soon after battle, the Enclave was no more as far as most of the survivors were concerned...including his mother.

Hannah Pope had decided that it would be best for both her son and herself to simply settle down in what was left of society and pretend the Enclave was never a part of her life. For the most part, she was right, those still clinging to the old ways of the Enclave were slowly but surely picked off by the NCR's military might, and even those who tried to settle down would occasionally get picked up by NCR forces who'd been tipped off of their pasts. Thankfully for Hannah and her son, she was able to lay low in Redding and set up a small clinic to keep her family of two out of the streets, and eventually became a pillar of the community she serviced. When she wasn't treating patients she was teaching her son what she could on science and medicine, the boy taking more to the former than the latter, as well as vague stories of the two's past and where they came from. Eventually though, Sam became a man, and while he first started his career helping his mother by using his scientific knowledge to craft medicines, Sam would grow restless and develop a sense of wanderlust.

At the age of 24, upon hearing of the NCR's push into the Mojave and the Hoover Dam, the young Sam bade farewell to his mother and set off to seek out his own path. His mother gifted him an old Glock 86 plasma pistol she'd had ever since he could remember as both a way to defend himself and as a keepsake of hers, with that gift hanging off his belt, Sam began his journey to new pastures...never knowing that this would be the last time he'd ever see his mother again. Once in the Mojave Sam found himself moving from town to town, doing small jobs that required his skilled knowledge and occasionally scavenging to make whatever chems or medicine he could to sell, until the Legion showed up. Prior to the first battle of Hoover Dam, the Legion took to raiding across the Colorado river, engaging the NCR in small skirmishes while also targeting unsuspecting locals. The arrival of such a threat gave Samuel a new outlook on life, and in a move that probably sent his father turning in his grave, Sam volunteered for NCR service.

Although missing the First Battle of Hoover Dam while in training, Sam was still sent out to the Mojave to try and pacify it for the NCR alongside thousands of other NCR troopers over the years. After fighting Fiends, Khans, Legionaries, and all other assortment of scum and hostile wildlife, Sam's life was changed forever. His records indicate that he became a strong leader, able to rouse troops for battle with his words and actions, and that his privately owned plasma pistol was more often in his hands than any NCR issued gear (to the chagrin of some of his higher ups). Being wounded several times, and awarded a few more for various actions during his time of service, Sam would serve until the Second Battle of Hoover Dam just a year ago. After the loss of the Dam to the Courier, and all of the Mojave at that, Sam decided it was time to call it quits and did not reenlist after reaching the rank of First Sergeant.

Upon returning to Redding, Sam learned his mother had died only a month before, peacefully in her sleep with the knowledge her son was coming home. A friendly neighbor gave him a letter from her, one that had been kept just in case Sam never returned in time. Inside that letter was a story, one more detailed than any others that his mother had told him, it was the story of her past and that of his father...it was the story of the Enclave. Reportedly this letter caused Sam to become bitter and resentful, the combination of the loss in the Mojave, his Mother's death, and the news of who he truly was had caused another significant emotional event for the now 34 year old veteran. Looking out at what he had fought for, seeing the NCR again after a decade of war, this devastated and crumbling nation...it gave Sam a target for all of that frustration of his.

Soon after his return to Redding, Sam became a political agitator, holding stump speeches in the city square, making flyers, and being a general nuisance to the established political order in the area. Decrying the corruption of the Republic, the blatant control the Brahmin Barons held over many politicians, and the unending wars of expansion that were costing the NCR more than it was receiving, Sam became a very visible figure in local Redding politics who very quickly was gaining a following among the citizenry. This was no good for the establishment, who immediately went to work to remove this agitator who was riling up the people. After a few months, they found their opportunity, and during a small rally a number of thugs under the pay of one of the local Barons attacked the rally. During the subsequent breakup by police, Sam was arrested for "inciting a riot" and "disturbing the public peace", and given two options...face a prison sentence that he wouldn't survive a week of or re-volunteer for the NCR Army with all previous ranks and awards stripped away.

In the end, Sam had fought the system, and the system had won...it hadn't even needed to make him a martyr. Now, at the age of 35, Samuel Pope was once more an enlisted man sent off to fight another of the NCR's wars with the hope of those sending him that he'd never return. Assigned to the 63rd Battalion and sent up to the Portland front lines, another...and perhaps his last...chapter of Sam's life began.

Do Not Remove: 2299

[Anowa]

(Image)

Name: Samuel Pope (Prefers to be called Sam)
SPECIAL

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

Do Not Remove: 2299

Hearts and Minds:
Due to your rather silver tongue and somewhat Anti-Establishment reputation, convincing members of less established factions to do something to your benefit is easier. However, with your reputation, folks in the NCR aren't likely to take too kindly to such attempts (-6 CHR when dealing with PRC, Abbot, BoS or FEZNV NPCs, but a +8 to CHR when dealing with NCR NPCs)

---

Equipment Added:
Flametrooper
- M9A1-7 Flamethrower
- Binoculars
- Browning Hi-Power
- NCR Army Flametrooper Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

[Archangelskl Oblast]

Tag

[Vacif]

Oh god we have a flame trooper.