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#9024240 Jan 28, 2014 at 07:31 PM · Edited 3 years ago
520 Posts
So what we have here is the thread dedicated to character applications. Names, backgrounds, physical descriptions, quirks? All of that goes here. But before you go spilling your creativity all over the place, I'd like to call your attention to the...

Rules & Regulations
- Characters can either be human, ghoul or any form of mechanical entity that is controlled by a human brain. (Note: Choosing to play as a ghoul or "robot" will greatly limit your ability to socially interact with NPCs.)

- Characters are only limited to the following occupations: Survivalist, Trader, citizen of an East Coast township, peacekeeper of an East Coast township, or Mercenary (either independent or belonging to an East Coast-based group like Talon Company). You are welcome to pitch me ideas for special characters like a Vault Dweller who's just discovered the surface for the first time, or a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, but I reserve the right to veto these kinds of applications should I find them unfitting for the opening act(s) of the story.

- Characters can not have ties to pre-existing game characters; i.e. you cannot be related to the Vault Dweller from the original Fallout, can't be an estranged friend of the Lone Wander, can't be a former associate of the Courier, etc.

- I will allow you to mold and shape your character as you wish, meaning you're welcome to pick and choose your armor and weapons from any of the Fallout games. However you MUST give me a good explanation as to why you have your items. (Origin stories will give you brownie points.) If I feel your character shouldn't have that Gatling Laser, then you ain't gettin' it from the get-go, me-buck-o. The same can be said about your skills. If you play as a mechanic then it's likely you'll have a rudimentary knowledge of not only being able to fix but operate a vehicle of some kind. However this does not mean you will know how to repair robots or service 'n subsequently operate something like a Vertibird.

- If your character has a family, friend, series of friends, or all of the above that you've developed, then you will be the one responsible for playing them. (This is my first time GMing a forum RP in well over a decade, so I'm going to need a little leeway of I'm to keep this thing going in a long-term kind of way.)

- All characters must know that the Tunnel Snakes rule!

- Have fun and keep the drama in-character, please!
#9024331 Jan 28, 2014 at 08:04 PM · Edited over 2 years ago
119 Posts
Viktor Markus was born in New Haven, Connecticut to a pair of freelance Russian mercenaries in 2261. Standing and six feet and one inch tall with sharp feline-esque features, he is extremely lanky with a gymnasts build and flexibility, covered in whipcord muscle, preferring to keep his jet black hair out of his cold, hawkish blue eyes he slicks it back and it reaches about half way down his neck.

Carrying a worn but well cared for DKS-501 sniper rifle and several dozen rounds of both standard and modified .308 caliber ammo and a rifle silencer, as well as at least five knives on his person at all times and finally a Chinese officer's sword he looted form one of his more annoying targets. While on contracts he wears a simple yet extremely well maintained set of leather recon armor covered by an armored duster and a cowboy-esque hat with a lower face mask, a memento of his first kill in the Great sandbox, also known as New Vegas, they call it Ranger armor, he simply calls it comfy.

Staying at the top floor and the corner room of the Roosevelt Hotel, which has been overtaken by natural flora and fauna he has a nice little set up going where he stays when he isn't out on contract. Keeping several different outfits and weapons he has picked up during his travels there he frequents the room staring out the windows at the wildlife and other creatures there.

Growing up with two mercenaries as parents he quickly learned all the tricks of the family business. Specializing in long range killing with his trusty sniper rifle he is far less skilled up close. That doesn't mean he is helpless up close, having started to learn the art of knife fighting from his mother before she was killed on a mission he is capable in a close range fight but prefers to make his kills from several hundred feet away. Having parents like his he is a capable mechanic as well as skilled in traps, meant to both distract and maim. Having mercenaries as parents means that his emotional conditioning was... lacking to be best. Understanding what emotions are and knowing how to manipulate them while not falling victim to them has been his trademark.

Known to associates as Viktor and targets as "Oh shit it's him, run." He spends ninety percent of the time either hunting his targets, setting traps or manipulating those who may know the target. Although a mercenary Viktor has a set of rules he will never break in terms of a contract, the rules drilled through his head as a child by his parents: Never kill children, Never underestimate an opponent, and ALWAYS take payments in cash.

The ten percent of the time he isn't on contract he can usually be found in one of the many bars that dot the settlements in and around the city that never sleeps, either trying to find a new employer of forget the previous one.

Being in the business of death however has had it's toll on him, having lost multiple lovers and both parents to either fellow assassins or angry rivals he has tried his best to shelter himself from getting emotionally involved in anything. But everyone has their vices, and Viktor is no exception. After a nasty battle in which he was forced to take out an entire squad of Talon Mercenaries he was shot in the shoulder, the bullet never exited and the wound bothers him to this day. In part due to the constant pain in his shoulder and partially because of the guilt he feels he is addicted to powerful painkillers and is quite fond of alcohol.

Having lost his mother at the age of 13 in 2274 he spent the next six years training under his father, an ex military marksman and demolitions expert turned freelance mercenary. Leaving at the age of twenty in 2280 he became an independent mercenary, traveling all across the country doing a brief stint in the Sierra Madre before moving back the colder weather and selling his services up and down the eastern seaboard before settling in New York after a particularly hard to track down target led him from New Jersey all the way down to Florida before he corned the man in New York. Noticing the need for a good assassin he decided not to move around anymore and ply his trade in the city that never sleeps, and business is good.

Skills, out of five.

Marksmanship, 4.5
Tracking, 3.5
Trap making 4.0
Sneaking 3.75
Hand to hand 2.5
Strength 1.75
Agility 3.5
Speed 3.5
"All weapons are important to an Echani. A hand built weapon is part of the Echani. I built her by hand, crafting the hilt over weeks of trial and error. She is very much a part of me, like a child, or a spouse. With out the weapon, you cannot defend your life, if you cannot defend your life you have no life. So we treat our weapons with respect. We honor them, as they honor us by being our defenders, our tools, an extension of ourselves. A weapon is an extension of ones soul."
#9024750 Jan 28, 2014 at 10:24 PM · Edited 2 years ago
334 Posts

Abel Devereux was born to single mother Naomi Devereux in the northern Commonwealth, in the medical center of Diamond City. His mother moved the both of them to a settlement at the borders, content to raise her son in solitude. This all did change, however, when she took a job for caps: traveling off to the island of Far Harbor.

When she came back, she had a ring on her finger, and she took her son off to the island.

Abel found a new home, and a Father on Far Harbor - Michael, a ghoul who lived from the Old World, transformed when the door to his vault failed to seal shut. Michael took to the boy quickly, and began to teach him everything he knew - from combative techniques such as last-resort close quarters fighting to firearms, to passive skills like fishing, charisma and technical expertise. On his own, Abel gained a quick reputation as he grew for scavenging useful items and bits for his fellows in Far Harbor.

When he grew old enough, Abel quickly signed on to accompany his father and his crew to do trading with coastal communities. He was quick to voice his desire to see more than water and port towns, and eventually managed to convince his dad to expand operations further out.

Eventually Abel joined his dad and a land crew to venture out to the renowned Melting Pot.

Truly unaware how his life would change.


Abel stands at five feet and ten inches in height. possessing an athletic muscular build and a thin frame. His hair is kept short, a tad wild, and is a sandy brown in coloration. His skin is fair, and his eyes are a deep shade of brown. His appearance reflects his age, being in his early twenties, roughly twenty-four.

For all intents and purposes, one can say he greatly resembles actor C.J. Thomason.


Abel is quite the compassionate soul, willing to sympathize with many other individuals, and is quite friendly. He goes by the rule to "treat people the way you want to be treated". While he can be friendly, however, if treated harshly or insulted, he can develop a grudge and choose to be rude in turn. He possesses a temper as well, hidden behind his typical good nature. He can be quite vengeful too, not willing to let past sins / mistreatments go.

Abel also possesses quite the way with words, and is fairly intelligent, which can prove to be either a blessing or a curse for whoever he encounters. A fellow companion in his caravan band once said that "[Abel] could charm the pants off of the most chaste girl in the wastes, and befriend the father afterward." Abel denies that he could.


  • Backpack w/ survival gear.
  • Iron Cross necklace.
  • Lever Action Rifle.
  • .32 revolver
  • Old Hunter's Heavy Jacket, Pants and Black Boots. Sewn on fur-lined hood for warmth.
  • Machete.


Being a survivalist, scavenger and a trader, Abel has amassed a fair amount of unique skills - either on his own or from his father.

Combat wise, Abel developed a preference for remaining out of the thick of the fight, and frequently enjoyed the use of hunting / lever-action rifles. However, in the case where this luxury can't be afforded, he does rely on a backup .32 revolver.

Outside of that, thanks to training from his father, Abel possesses a vast array of recreational skills - like fishing. Aside from that, he has a slick silver tongue, and a hand at light weapon crafting, and hacking of technology.
#9029946 Jan 29, 2014 at 10:58 PM · Edited over 3 years ago
215 Posts
Name: Atlanta Psomas

Sex: Female

Age: 21

Appearance: Standing at 5'6'', Atlanta sports dyed, almost blood-red hair, brown at the roots per her original hair color. With blue eyes and a narrow complexion, her skin is tan, due to the amounts of time she spends outside. Half of her head is shaved, leaving the other in a drooping bang and long along the sides.

Personality: Everything has always oriented around Atlanta's family. She has lived in the same settlement her entire life, giving her a sense of reserved friendliness. To traders, scavengers, and mercenaries willing to help the settlement, she's friendly; when she feels her way of life, or her family is threatened, and shit hits the fan, she will -not- hold back, even when her life is very much in danger. She's much too trusting most of the time, but living in the same settlement her whole life has offered little opportunity for that to become a real problem. As a young and confident woman, she's grown to have a rebel attitude coupled with a resentment of authority.

Background: Born and raised in the normal-in-every-way settlement of Nel's Row, formerly Governor's Island, in the dead-center of New York Harbor, New York City, New York, Atlanta has never strayed too far, only leaving to hunt when she must ferry to shore. Hunting is her passion, and her duty in the settlement; not only is she the main breadwinner of her family, but of the settlement as well, leading hunting parties constantly and always bringing back the most game, topping even the most experienced hunters and huntresses in the settlement. She took the sport from her father, who, having a child at a fairly old age, became much too old and tired to continue providing for Nel's Row as well as he could, and so he trained his daughter and only child to shoot, to track, to skin, and to cook. She has made acquaintance with a regular visitor to her settlement, Zodai, whose skills in hunting and tracking, not to mention archery, has made them compatible. He's saved the settlement at least once, and he is well trusted amongst the citizens of Nel's Row.

--Lightly colored leather amor, handmade with Atlanta's own tanning rack, with an added metal shoulderguard (as in the shoulder piece from this armor; the one that doesn't have horizontal spikes) made as a spur-of-the-moment repair from a dead gangster in a hunting expedition gone wrong.
--Crossbow, given to her by Zodai. She utilizes bolts made from the scrap metal found in old cars, buildings, door frames, etc.
--Scoped .44 Magnum Revolver, which she rarely has to use, but constantly has fully loaded and on her person at all times, when she must forsake her shooting skill with her crossbow for tracking, and must travel lighter. Obtained while scavenging.
--A bowie knife, sharpened constantly, another gift from her father.

--Tracking; taught by her father since a very young age.
--Shooting; see above.
--Skinning; see above and above again.
--Knifeplay; picked up from playing with her gifted combat knife, she can effectively use it in a one-on-one fight but it is otherwise useless.
--Sneaking; ABOVE^^^^
--Climbing; Learned out of necessity, she constantly needs to pass over rubble and heavy vegetation depending on where she is. As a result, she's nearly as skilled as a freerunner in that regard, and would use it as a reliable escape tactic.
#9034106 Jan 30, 2014 at 06:01 PM · Edited over 4 years ago
120 Posts
Name: Ronan Cavanaugh
Race: Human (Tribal)
Hair: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 6’3”

Ronan is a large man, over six feet tall and with the broad shoulders and strong hands of both a farmer, and a warrior. With long, sun-blonde hair that reaches further down his back than one would see of most women, he would be a memorable sight even if it wasn’t for the gear he carries. But this man carries no guns, and instead has a Claideamh sword sheathed on his hip, a large war bow unslung and packed securely on his back of 110 pound pull, and with a colorful targe of green, red, and brown within easy reach on his pack. What is most strange however, is the armor he wears. The man wears a forest green tinted suit of chainmail, with Brahmin leather armor underneath it for both added protection, and to lessen the noise the chain makes, and with a strange, knotwork design on its chest of red, brown, and green, in the same hues as those on his shield.
For a very easily remembered figure, little is known, for he avoids all conversations probing about where exactly he comes from more than the vague mention of the city of Salem, and insistent pushing for information has been known to anger the usually jovial man. However, when his history is left private, the man is often of great entertainment to be around, and many bars both dread and anxiously his vists, hoping that the many rounds he buys for the patrons outweighs the damage the large man can potentially wreak among equally drunk patron.
He seems to have an aversion to guns, and he is distrustful of them and does not like to handle them.
-As one can easily guess by his size and strength, Ronan is an experienced swordsman. Deadly at close range, and striking with both his Claideamh and targe, with its large, metal cap designed for smashing in the faces of those caught unprepared for the unorthodox attack.

-While he is not the best swordsman in the world, winning often by his quick, precise attacks, his skill with the large bow surpasses that of most of the modern world, whom rely on the use of lasers and guns. With the poundage of his bow, few humans besides this bear of a man could pull back the string enough for a useful shot, and with the power to pierce the more common armors seen throughout the forests his deadly aim.

-Ronan carries around climbing equipment, and in his pack he carries rope, hobnails for his boots, and other such equipment. It is evident that he spends much of his time in the canopy, as the bedroll on the top of his pack is a hammock with and overhang tenting, large enough for one, and with the trees that swarms the land he has no shortage of appropriate places to climb and hang himself far above where most would think to look.

-He is a woodsman, and in the forest he excels at the art of moving silently, both on the ground, and up above, albeit at a slower pace due to his size. Scouting, foraging, and survival lore abound, he is readily able to live off the land.

Visible Equipment
Claideamh (Sword): Forged from the axle of a car, this blade is unusually tough and sharp due to the pre-war material the blade is made out of. It is a dull grey, to keep the sun from shining on it and making a glare to mark his position. The blades hilt is made of wood, with a metal pommel with the design of a human head with what seems to be deer antlers coming out of its head

Chainmail Armor: Good against melee and bows, weak against guns and energy weapons. Green tinted for stealth, and with his tribes insignia on its chest.

Targe: Brahmin-hide shield with his tribes’ colors, and a large metal cap in the center used for bashing attacks (Not pleasant when used against a face.)

War Bow: 110 pound draw, this is a bow meant for use against armored men, ghouls, and super mutants. The draw would be too much for most people, but as the his tribe requires archery training for those 6+ in age many of the many of the tribe have the required strength to pull it.
"Téigh trasna ort féin"
#9039158 Jan 31, 2014 at 05:44 PM · Edited over 4 years ago
125 Posts
Name: Zodai (pronounced Yo-die)
Age: 35
Race: Human
Hair: Light Cool Brown
Eye Color: Chartreuse (light green, with flecks of yellow)
Height: 6'0”
Weight: 185 lbs

Appearance & Equipment:
--NCR issued boots (very warn, one with leather shoestrings).
--NCR issued worn, faded, cargo pants with flaps and zipper pockets.
--Handmade leather belt, dyed black, with built in sheath for combat knife at the back.
--Top made of of combination of buck skin, Yao-guai, and mole-rat skin, stitched together with thinly cut leather, and completed with a horned hood shaped to not obscure his peripheral vision, but keep his face covered from the elements. Dyed light green, gray and brown.
--Leather shoulder pad covering his right shoulder, looking manufactured, it has the emblem of a bear and star , and the word ranger expertly burned into the top.
--Handmade quiver carrying 21 crafted metal arrows (solid for penetration and feathered end pointing at his right shoulder, also secured to not fall out).
--Machete, wickedly crafted from a helicopter tail prop, with a hand carved bone handle, the leather crafted holster that sits snug at his right shoulder, offset with his arrows.
–-Combat knife, again with a bone crafted handle at the small of his back, thus in-case his hand is pined either up or down he has access to a weapon.
--crafted leather holster at his right hip with a flap secured by button over the top covering a pistol of some sort, the handle only really showing, again it has the bear, star ranger logo on the grips.
--a satchel worn lopped around his right shoulder secured by the shoulder-pad, hanging at his left hip is secured by leather to not move.
--a cured deer bladder, with a bone crafted pour spout, that is corked, with some kind sort of liquid in it, secured by the satchel as well.
--Roughin' it! bedroll kit, secured with a special harness that wraps around his arms, like a backpack adjusted to sit offset his quiver, trying to be as streamlined as possible. This carries all his supplies(goggles,face sock for cold weather, pocket knife) and his books.
--(last but defiantly not least) Handcrafted bow, the stock made of a Yao-Guai spine, reinforced with a metal rod, the spine whittled into a hand-grip, arrow prop, and iron sight. The metal bar extending beyond the spine piece, has secured two fabricated pieces of helicopter tail prop, the curve comes from the pressure the manufactured steel, carbon string he got from the NCR. (the bow has a 100 pound draw) This bow is his most prized possession, he never leaves it unattended even when bathing.
A tall lean man, his muscles in an agile ripcord style, makes him defined and solid when he is seen without his top (which is not very often)due to his lifestyle, and the daily morning regiment to keep it that way. When his hood is down he shaves his head about once every few months, at this time his hair is at a short burr, a scar on the right side of his head, looking like a claw marks interrupt his hair, several more scars run up and down the exposed areas. Although an older man, he is still very much able to hold his own, his eyes, behind his usual squint are experienced, and tells a long story, but still as sharp as ever. All his equipment is made to stay secured as he travels light, and performs parkour.

Personality: Zodai, being a loner most his life makes him overly cautious, not quick to befriend. His personality is more a quietly strong person, only really talking when talked to, or when he feels that something should be said. Remaining quiet mostly, he does listen to others. He spends his extra time reading his books, and whittling. The few people that know him say to listen when he does speak, his experience, and honesty make his words weigh heavy.. a rare thing in this world. Also He hates slavers, and will track/watch them for days waiting for the perfect opportunity to take them out. He also does not care much for the Brotherhood of steel, but his hatred has lessened over the years, seeing how they are trying to fight the good fight, first hand.

Background: Born 2245, in the Pitt. A miracle to runaway slaves Rain, and Will. Zodai was a strong baby, although it was touch and go for Rain afterwords, but she remained resilient pulling through and recovering. When Zodai was old enough to walk, Will started teaching him to survive in the Pitt; First by showing him Living Anatomy. Food and drink were scarce, thus they ate and drank anything they could get giving him his Lead Belly. Since they were always moving, and staying out of sight gave him his Cautious Nature as well as teaching him to Travel Light, and Light Steps to sneak past bandits, slavers and their traps. Finding a group of kids raised much the same way, he joined them learning: Silent Running, to be a Tunnel Rat and Tunnel Runner, and Quick Recovery. Mostly scavenging at night made him a Night Person, and Friend of the Night as well as boosting his Alertness. Getting older and incorporating all those perks, made him a Ghost. Older and bolder, his little group became Thieves, learning to Pickpocket while people were asleep, again only taking from bandits and slavers. One theft gone wrong he was caught by some raiders, his hand chopped off, and to further their amusement threw him into one of the still radioactive rivers. Thought he was surely going to die, he treaded water the best he could, and managed to make it to shore, he passed out from the pain. Waking up to his fathers face afraid to look at his hand, he looks anyway, shocked it was back! He didn't know what to think.. thanks to his new found perk Rad Regeneration, and staying in the water for so long also activated another perk Rad Absorption. Hooking back up with his little troupe he became a Master Thief, as well as an Infiltrator, liberating many slaves from slavers. Thinking his life was going well the Scourge hit the Pitt in 2255, Zodai only ten was taken by surprise, metal-men were everywhere, shooting red beams. He ran to try to find his parents, the metal-men were rounding up children, he managed to evade them, bewildered he just ran, and ran finding some shelter were he stayed for days. After a week he decided to return to find his parents, days of searching the smoking ruins he found them, it seems that they were caught in the crossfire. He dragged them to an area were they have buried people in the past, crying he laid them to rest, making some makeshift gravestones. Zodai heads west wandering, after much trial and error he becomes a Survivalist and learns to get used to Roughin' It. Wandering and keeping to himself for five years he comes across a huge camp of slavers in 2260. Using his talents he robs them blind when they were sleeping, but attracting the attention of another kind. Hearing a sound Zodai spins around from his perch, his combat knife drawn to see a figure garbed in black armor with a helmet like the metal-men, but very different. The figure holds up their hands to show that they mean no harm, thus began a ten year friendship. Chief Elise he became to know her as saw potential in him, and shared his hatred for slaver taught him how to be a Hunter. Given his travel light nature, she teaches him about using a Light Touch with his weapons. She also teaches him Toughness, how to be a Dodger in combat. With techniques he develops Iron Fists, giving Bonus HtH Damage, how to be a Stonewall. Zodai really favoring a bow, she taught him Weapon Handling with it as a melee weapon, also using it Commando style firing it giving him Bonus Ranged Damage turning him to a Sniper. She taught him to read, giving him Comprehension. Also teaching him how to make things becoming a natural Mr. Fix-it. Learning how to sling/unsling, and sheath/unsheathe he became a Quick Draw. She taught him how to kill people in there sleep like a twisted Mister Sandman, many slavers never woke up from their sleep from then on. When the combat really broke out he was called a Ninja, among other things, getting Better Criticals on them with a bit of Finesse. As more time went by his regimental practicing and combat, he learned how to make Piercing Strikes with his weapons and hands, Super Slamming them to the ground, with speed of a mechanical Slayer. At 2270 he Helps the NCR army and the metal-men he learns that are called the brotherhood of Steel, take out he tribes of the Mojave desert at the town of Bullhead. Zodai, having feeling pulled back to the east for the past year decides to wander back East, parting ways from Chief Elise,and the NCR Rangers and army. As a parting gift she helps him build his bow, giving him the gun as well, and the army gave him the shoulder-pad. Wandering East again, he learns how to become an Animal Friend. Taking his time he arrives back in the Pitt in 2275, paying a visit to his parents graves, that are barely recognized now after twenty years. He then decides to go to the capital wastelands, making it there in 2276, hanging around there until 2278, then continuing north finding a group of slavers, he following them for months making their way into New York, he learns they are heading for some settlement called 'Nel's Row', thinning out the once sizable force over the long period (thank god slavers were never known for their huge intellects). They make it to the harbor, finding an old bot they get it seaworthy. Taking the distraction Zodai takes out a few more, hiding the bodies. The slavers piled into the boat still set on taking the settlement (man they are dumb there only about eight of them left). Silently getting into the water, Zodai manages to latch on the boat before it takes off, quietly sneaking on-board, he manages to take out the three silently, but a shout alerted the rest, as skirmish broke out, but he managed to silence them all, the leader getting a few hits on him, but superficial, he loots the bodies taking a stim, and some cans of spam leaving the rest for the settlement, he also finds several weapons but a crossbow stands out. He steers the boat to the island, killing the engine, blaring the horn a couple of times, letting it coast to the island. Standing on the deck his weapons slung, the crossbow in one hand held in a not threatening manner. The settlement people gather around watching him approach he holds his hands up hearing the “Who are you?” come from a younger female voice.. “Names Zodai, I had some trouble making it here, but would appreciate being let in the settlement”, the female voice says back “Who are those people?”. The boat runs up on the bank he walks to get off the boat,”Slavers, been tracking them for months, feel free to whatever they had” he sees the female for the first time, with her crimson red hair.. Atlanta she would tell him later, he throws her the crossbow, “This suits you, Red”, he gives her a small smile and heads to the bar. Zodai stays in the general area of the settlement from 2278 to current only visiting occasionally to trade, and to help with the supply, also keeping an eye out for raiders and slaver, and anything else that’s a threat.
#9040023 Jan 31, 2014 at 09:22 PM · Edited 4 years ago
62 Posts
Name: Deoraí Dath
Race: Human
Height: 5'11"
Eye color(Heterochromia):Right Blue, Left Green
Hair color: Black
Origin: European Commonwealth, former London
Age: 27
Weight: 160lbs

Born and raised in the European Commonwealth, former London area, Deoraí has fair skin, he is pale despite traveling the wastes his whole life. and and narrow features as well as a lean build. He stands just under six feet tall, weighs 150lbs. Deoraí has mid-length, raven-black hair which is usually a matted mess. He has a thin scar running the length of the right side of his jaw, partially hidden away by stubble.

Deoraí Dath wears the his deceased father's Hooded, armored, raw-hide duster with a pair of black combat BDU pants he looted from an armory in Florida and later modified with scrap metal to armor them lightly, along with combat boots looted in the same place

For weapons Deoraí has a sawed-off 10 gauge shotgun given to him by the Caravan company he was raised in upon his departing from it after his parents deaths. To accompany the shotgun he has a 8" serrated combat knife her keeps tucked in his left boot.

For storage he has an olive-drab rucksack that was also given to him upon department of the caravan company, usually packed with a handful of shell, purified water, food, and medical supplies when he can find them.

Geiger counter- A tool her picked up from a merchant shortly after his parents' deaths. He'd never let himself get sick like that, or anyone else if he could help it
Born in the European Commonwealth, around where London was before the bombs fell, Deoraí Dath was raised by his parents who were caravan merchants in a company circulating goods throughout that area of the Commonwealth. He started working as a merchant at fifteen, quickly becoming adept in bartering and subterfuge to make sales. At the age of twenty he left the company to wander the wastes of the Commonwealth upon his parents death by radiation sickness along a new trade route. At twenty three he made for the harbor having passed through almost every settlement and ruin in the Commonwealth to leave for new territory. The ferry took him to Point lookout, he spent only weeks there before taking his leave down the coast to Florida, via ferry boat. After a a brief time drifting place to place he took to the west, making his next major stop in Nevada, the Strip primarily. After making small but nice profit off a con he skipped town without notice working his way up the country, until stopping again in the City that never sleeps. Arriving a few months ago, he spends most of his time at the harbor, browsing, conning and bartering, or in the bar where he rents a room in a town under Grand Central, waiting for things to stir and take his leave once again.


Subterfuge-- A silver tongue and well practiced slight of hand has made Deoraí quite the con artist since he left the Caravan.

Stealth-- Years of avoiding violent conflict, Deoraí has learned to use his surroundings and shadows to keep himself hidden, unless he wants to be found. (Or just slips up, like everyone does)

Quick draw-- When subterfuge fails, he who draws first, lives. A philosophy Deoraí has put to use many times, it has saved on numerous occasions.

Keen eye-- Years of being a barter and a con artist have given him a merchant's eye, able to pick out most fakes, and even make some more realistic.

Faults: Everyone has their faults, Deoraí's are gambling, alcohol, and his own overly confident personality, more like arrogance.
Rule No. 9- "When forced to compromise, ask for more."

Rule No. 10- "If you can't win, change the rules"

Rule No. 11- "If you can't change the rules, ignore them"
#9240067 Mar 14, 2014 at 10:36 PM · Edited 2 years ago
62 Posts
Name: John Patrick Laurie

Age: 31

Race: Human

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 180 lbs.

Eye color: Blue

Hair color: Dirty Blonde

Equipment: Aside from the T-60 power armor that he inherited from his father upon his being promoted to the rank of Paladin, Laurie is equipped with a Focused Laser Sniper Rifle as well as a Silenced 10mm Pistol (kept in a special external compartment attached to his armor's right leg plate) and a serrated combat knife (kept in a G.I.-style combat knife sheath that's magnetically attached to the left side of his armor's breast plate).

Bio: Having been born and raised within the Helping Hand itself, John has always endeavored to follow in his family's footsteps. Even though he's noted for being snarky under certain conditions, and his is role on the battlefield is that of a sniper who reports directly to Senior Paladin Bradford, years of exemplary service have awarded John one of only two officer's positions within Bradford's 12-man team.
Rule No. 9- "When forced to compromise, ask for more."

Rule No. 10- "If you can't win, change the rules"

Rule No. 11- "If you can't change the rules, ignore them"
#10676253 Feb 16, 2015 at 03:58 AM · Edited 2 years ago
108 Posts
Azzie Abendroth ("Dusk")
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 149 lbs.
Eye color: Light Blue
Hair color: Caramel Brown
Skin color: White

Equipment: H&K MP5 sub-machine gun, .45 Auto pistol, Chinese officer's sword, switch blade, and a back water rifle. She wears winterized combat armor underneath a tattered bounty hunter's duster. Around her neck she has a dark green bandanna, a pair of sunglasses, and a golden necklace in the shape of a heart that when opened up reveals a picture of her family.

Bio: Azzie was born at sea, aboard a German migrant vessel bound for the United States. Her mother died during childbirth, leaving her to be raised by her father, who was the ship's mechanic. At some point after she came of age she hooked up with Corsairs of Cortland County mercenary group, whom she has remained loyal to ever since.
#11245483 Jul 03, 2015 at 05:41 PM · Edited 3 years ago
144 Posts
Name: Brent Hansen

Sex: Male

Race: Human

Age: 41

Height: 6'4"

Weight: 230 lbs.

Eye color: Bright Green

Hair color: Jet Black

Equipment: A single 10mm sub-machine gun is kept on his person at all times while a spare varmint rifle is stored aboard the Humvee for use in scouting. He also keeps a combat knife stuffed into a sheath on his utility vest, a wrench kept in a special holster on the outside of his left boot, and a tire iron tied to his backpack. He also keeps a miniature laser pistol strapped to his right leg for emergencies. He also wears a mixture of armor and regular clothing like so.

Bio: Born to a couple of regular ol' city folks, Brent was raised to be a kind man. Groomed to take over his family's butcher shop in the big city, Brent never could handle the life of a settled man; he always longed for adventure!

Because of his large size and great strength, it was fairly easy for Brent to be recruited into the Corsairs of Cortland County at the age of 21. Although he wasn't very familiar with combat at first, he was quick to learn how to fight in a melee and with firearms. With his 20 years of working for the Corsairs, Brent has become the go-to man when it comes to driving vehicles.

He is an incredibly strong man; he speaks roughly and tries to come across as a tough guy, but is really a softie at heart. He has been known to go out of his way to help others, which has led him into trouble many times. Despite many bad experiences, he is an optimist, and believes that most people mean well. His personality is similar to Groot's from Guardians of the Galaxy; he can be ferocious, but has a kind heart.

Skills/Misc. Information:
With his great size comes great strength; he weighs a LOT, but most of that weight is muscle and raw power.

Due to his experiences with the Corsairs, Brent has a lot of combat expertise. He's a decent shot, especially with his custom laser pistol.

He isn't the most skilled in melee combat, but he can pack one heck of a wallop! Brent doesn't know kung-fu or any of the ninja mumbo-jumbo nonsense, but you can be sure that he knows what he's doing when he's in a brawl.

As the Corsair's Hummer driver, Brent has become a pretty dang good driver and a decent mechanic (he isn't a technical genius; he knows how to do the simple stuff for cars, but he does NOT know how to make a brand new car). You could say he's picked up his skills from watching the Fast & Furious movies, but those probably don't exist in this universe.

From not only his experiences in life but also his past as a butcher's son, Brent knows a thing or two about getting good prices; he's not gonna get swindled out of everything he knows, and he won't stand for a raw deal!

Brent isn't the smartest man, but he is by no means stupid. He's not a genius, but he's not an idiot either; he's got as much intelligence as the next guy.

As previously stated, Brent's kindhearted nature can get him into a lot of trouble. His optimism could be his downfall if he doesn't have somebody to make him think logically. Still, never underestimate the power of a kind soul and a positive mind!
Rex: Hero

Valeiro: Psycho

Kojasta: Mystery

Solljus: Villain

Abaddon: Shadow

Xirad: Warrior
#11396883 Aug 11, 2015 at 06:54 PM · Edited 3 years ago
120 Posts
Name: Siobhan "Kavvy" Kavanagh

Age: 27

Appearance: Brilliantly red-headed, the Irish-born Courier stands at an above average 5' 10". Sporting a lithe, toned body, she wears light body armor, the only visible pieces being her gloves and the thin ballistic vest covering her torso. Her face is surprisingly unmarred by the horrors of this new world, blue eyes vibrantly staring out from a heart-shaped face.

A duster, standard fare for a courier, adorns her shoulders, the traditional orange, white, and green flag painted across her back. Even in Europe, a good Courier knew how to distinguish themselves. Paint a target on your back for lowlifes to chase and honest folk to respect, and you'll never be out of a job. A wide-brimmed hat can usually be seen on her head, and an old-world silver heart-shaped locket can be found around her neck.

Used to roughing it on the road, Kavvy carries a backpack with the essentials; Food, water, plenty of ammo, several antique pieces she's prospected from the old world for barter as well as a few other things. Strapped to her back is a holster for her repeater, and slung over her shoulder is a 12-gauge shotgun. Hanging off of a belt are two holstered pistols, one a .357 revolver and the other a .44 magnum revolver. Lined across her back are several hand-tooled knife-sheaths. At least four of them are filled. Her last-ditch weapon is a machete, sheath tooled into the very holster that holds her repeater.

Personality: Generally reserved, Kavvy's life has been one hardship after another, and that has left her cynical and jaded to the world as a whole. It's nearly impossible to gain her trust, even if the long line of partners and companions she's had say otherwise. Despite her harsh outlook on life, one might argue her being a courier makes life more than worth living. While not married to her work, Kavvy has a rather terrible case of wanderlust, a trait that often has gotten herself in trouble with some of her more attached acquaintances.

Background: Born in the remains of Dublin, Kavvy lost her parents at the tender age of 8. While that's normally a death sentence, she was fortunate to be taken in by an elderly travelling merchant. Originally intending her to 'take over the family business' when she became an adult, he wasn't afraid to teach her skills not associated with the trade. Bartering, sure, but there was also gunplay, knife-throwing, survivalist training, stealth.

What could be considered her 'father' died as Kavvy was 16, though the girl wasn't about to take up the family business. If you ask her, she'll tell you 'trading was boring', though being a common thug or mercenary, or even a raider, didn't appeal to her either. She was fortunate enough to have the choice, at the least.

Becoming a courier isn't some grand, official thing. It starts off small. Kavvy only began doing it large-scale after the first paid, and she's never looked back since. Never a reason to. Her parents she barely knew, the old man was far from kindly. The only people she actually chose to be around were her various travelling 'companions', or the occasional escort at a city. Still, women love a self-sufficient traveler. That got her into more trouble than not, unfortunately.

Ireland was lax, though it had separated into several fiefdoms by the time the radioactive waste hit the ground. They respected the couriers who flew the national flag well enough, but once in a while she found herself in the pants of someone supposedly important who wanted to take her 'away from all that savagery.' Sometimes it wasn't supposed to be her choice. She drew the ire of several roving bands, for that. Despite being a respected Courier, the 'Flame-haired Fox' was scheduled to be put down.

Fortunately for her, a man by the name of Richard Rochester approached her with a way out. Strike out in the Americas after ensuring the safety of a long-term envoy for trade. Seeing her chance, she took it, and gained yet another companion. This one an eager girl with some business sense.

One that would accompany, and hopefully keep a warm bed for her to return to. Eventually.

Cherchez la Femme: Kavvy prefers the ladies, and the ladies prefer her. Sometimes a bit too much.
Gunslinger: Kavvy's a crack shot. Place like Ireland, you have to be.
Cowboy: All of Kavvy's arsenal is easily maintainable with the right scrap, and she prefers to be as self-sufficient as possible.
Light step/Silent Running: No reason to be heard, though that might be paranoia. Still, she's light on her feet.
Center of Mass: The head's an easy target. A good shot can get the heart just as easily.
#11746284 Nov 12, 2015 at 11:42 PM · Edited 2 years ago
108 Posts
Name: Carter Turner
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Age: 30
Weight: 186 lbs
Height: 5'9"
Eye color: Hazel
Hair color: Brown
Skin color: White

Appearance: Slightly tanned skin as a result of prolonged sun exposure. Often has halfheartedly combed hair and a poorly trimmed beard that gives him a perpetually rugged look. A scar runs from the top of his forehead down to the left side of his nose and stops just before the middle of that cheek. He's also rather muscular but not to the point that anyone would consider him "macho."

Equipment: Often he wears a drifter outfit over several layers of lesser clothing in order to keep himself warm during cold nights. He also wears a very unusual scarf and a hat worn by all Minutemen like Preston Garvey does. He also keeps a large survivalist's backpack on him at all times which is loaded with food, water, stims, chems and a gas mask.

Firearms: A combat rifle, a hunting rifle that he keeps alongside his backpack at all times, and a homemade pipe pistol that he keeps strapped on hip at all times are the only projectile weapons he has to his name. He also has a laser musket just like all other Minutemen, but it was damaged during an encounter with a Deathclaw some months ago, so he keeps it in his backpack.

Bladed Weapons: A combat knife that's usually affixed to his combat rifle like a bayonet and a switch blade are all he uses for melee weapons, apart from his fists, of course.

History: Born into the life of the Minutemen, his father being one himself, he grew up learning how to defend those around him as well as himself. As he grew older he got bored with staying in the settlements that his family swore to protect. Eventually he got so fed up that he left the Minutemen, which angered his family to no end.

During his subsequent travels, in one of the passer-by cities, he met a woman who was selling dogs for caps. One such dog was a Blue Merle Australian Shepherd who had lost a leg to a varmint trap. He bought the dog, along with a a couple of biscuits that the woman was selling. After he finished eating the biscuits, he realized that Biscuit was the perfect name for his new canine companion. They have been traveling the country together ever since.

- - -

Biscuit comes with a FROG DOG Modular Patrol Vest. As well as providing the three-legged canine with some much-needed protection, it gives Carter additional inventory space.
#13708650 Mar 25, 2018 at 05:22 PM
167 Posts
Name: Andy (Surname Unknown)
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Age: 18
Weight: 110 lbs
Height: 5'2"
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Blonde dreadlocks
Skin color: Tan

The young survivalist has little memory of her family. The bronze beauty has been traveling the wasteland on her own since she can remember, occasionally finding herself in settlements or with other allies through her wandering, though she rarely stays in one place for long, never really feeling at home.

Her traveling gear is light, not carrying more than she ever needs, but she is quite skilled at scavenging if needed. She wears brown leather pants over a tan pair of leggings to keep them from sticking in the warm months, and to keep her warm in the winter. A simple, form fitting t-shirt is worn under a fur lined aviator jacket she found along the way. A plaid woolen scarf hangs around her neck during the coldest parts of the year, and she wears a pair of brown leather boots that lace up to her mid-calf. She carries an old US Army rucksack to hold her clothing when it's too warm for it all.

Her weapons are simple. She has a few small knives, worn in various places on her person for easy access. A sawed off shotgun hangs from a sling on her back, and she has a small sidearm in case of emergency.
#13802448 Jun 26, 2018 at 04:57 PM
144 Posts
Name: Karin De La Rosa

Sex: Female

Age: 24

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 130 lbs

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Hair Color: Black

Skin Color: Light Brown

Karin's most striking and distinguishing features are her hair and the the tattoos that adorn her. Half of her head is shorn, the other half long and flipped over to cover that up. Beginning on her throat and extending up to her bottom lip is a tattoo very similar to *this* image. On her back as well is a large tattoo of the Mayan Calendar, or this for reference. Her legs as well are heavily tattooed with dozens of images, including roses, butterflies, skulls, and several tombstones with names on them.

For clothing, her outfit begins with an old vault suit with no number born on. On top of this, she wears parts of a Yao Gai pelt that has symbols painted onto it. The actual head part of the Yao Gai can be flipped up as a sort of hood to protect her head from the elements. With all of this, she wears a tribal looking necklace with feathers, bones, and claws on it. Lastly, she wears a belt on her hips that is similar to Han Solo's from Star Wars in that it has an extension that goes around one of her legs to hold a holster.

In the aforementioned holster, Karin carries a Plasma Defender.. On her back, she carries two small, lightweight throwing spears, and finally, she carries a large machete that can be sheathed and worn on her hips at the back.

Personal History:
Descended from an extremely wealthy oil tycoon who had oil claims in Texas and many parts of Mexico, Karin's ancestors were so wealthy that they purchased and built their own vault in Marshall, Texas. The oil tycoon, a wealthy, white, American man himself, was generous enough to 'allow' many of his family's household servants and maids to live with them in the vault when the bombs fell.

This decision would prove to be a bad one. Years and years of terrible treatment towards the Mexicans that worked for him came back to haunt him, and soon after the bombs fell and the vault sealed, the workers turned on him to have their revenge. This decision in turn made things worse, as killing their old master brought chaos to their vault. With in a year, the residents began to fight each other; the majority of them were Mexicans, and they easily overcame the other groups in the vault. With in twenty years, the vault was no longer self sufficient, and the residents opted to leave. Upon looking at the world in its broken, destroyed state, many of the survivors did not know what to do.

So it was that one elderly man among the group thought back to his Mexican heritage, and was reminded of the great Aztecs and Maya of old.

Thus, naturally, they formed a tribe of the wasteland whose culture was based upon those cultures.

Fast forward in time to the current time in the FO universe; Karin has been sent by her tribe to explore the wasteland. What wonders will she discover?

((This is just what I consider a possible thing in the universe. It doesn't go against anything in the established lore, so if you have a problem with it, bite me.))
Rex: Hero

Valeiro: Psycho

Kojasta: Mystery

Solljus: Villain

Abaddon: Shadow

Xirad: Warrior
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