Name: Benedict " Ben " Greene
Rank: Captain
Gender: Male
Age: 34 ( Born 2086 )
Race: Caucasian male

Appearance & Physical Traits: Standing at a rather imposing 6'4, with 230 plus pounds of hardened Ranger muscle, Ben isn't a man to trifle with. Short, dark brown hair sits atop his head, never fussed with but kept presentable. Below it lay two bright, wily green eyes accented by the dark brow above them. His nose is more or less ordinary as it rests above the devilish grin that seems to be a constant. A small scar stretches a little less than an inch down Greene's cheek, showing he's paid to be where he is. A short beard spans his face, never too messy or rough, including a soul patch that reaches up to where his chin ends and lip begins and a mustache, all connected to the main body.

His body itself has been molded to a fine machine thanks to his many years with the Rangers and his rigorous training regimen. Ideally, Ben is suited to feats of strength but can also run quickly and for longer periods than most, due to the extra endurance gifted to him by his genes with a small sprinkle of Mother Nature's grace. Only helping his physical abilities are the jumper's legs that Greene possesses, allowing him to leap far and high, they also assist when scaling obstacles.

Personality: What Ben is, more than anything, is laid-back. Debonair, carefree, even comedic or zany would be the most commonly-used terms to describe his personality. In an argument he is always one to crack a joke to diffuse the hostilities. When approached by an irritated individual, Greene uses his wit and humor in a manner that settles them down or negates the reason for their anger. With his soldiers, Ben is more serious and professional but does not let it consume him. No matter the situation there is always his trademark quips and lighthearted jokes. Some call him a card, an eccentric fellow. Despite this, he always has his people's best interest at heart and would die for his soldiers.

For all his remarks and friendliness to those around him, even outsiders, he can take things seriously. The true surprise though, is that Ben has a horrible anger inside him, thankfully is an extremely rare sight.

Ben has a great sense of justice and does what he feels is right, a sort of personal code. In certain circumstances he is willing to take more drastic measures, taking the more extreme route but does not enjoy it. If Greene encounters a person who has committed many deplorable atrocities and evils, there is no hesitation on his part in the matter of making the criminal suffer.

Skills: Ben is extremely skilled in the maintenance of firearms and armor, being able to work wonders with things of the like. In a fistfight, he is a nightmare for his enemies due to his agility and strength, mixed with the adrenaline rush that can overcome him, taking his inhibitions away, though that is only in dire situations. Aside from those times, Greene is calm in battle, often cracking jokes or goading his foes into blundering. Proficient in the wielding of blunt and bladed melee-weapons, the Ranger Captain is a terror in close-quarters.

That is not his only set of tricks though, Ben is also a crack shot with small-arms. Though he is skilled in dispatching adversaries personally, his strongest suit is his mastery of the use of rifles, pistols, and his favorite; shotguns. With a clear shot and a steady hand, Greene can clip a man's ear off at amazing distances, shortly followed by that same man's head being blown off. When outnumbered, which Greene usually is, he uses the environment to his advantage, scaling obstacles and hiding amongst the brush, or in a derelict building.

Aside from his gun-slinging, Ben is also extremely well-versed in survival, being able to live off the land for weeks on end if need be. Learned from his father, Greene can even fashion pouches, ammo bandoliers, rucksacks, cloaks and holsters all from animal skins and hides. Perhaps most impressively, the Ranger is a proficient hunter and can track animals and humans like with ease, making them all walking prey.

Counteracting his combat prowess is the complete lack of knowledge in the fields of any kind of science. Despite being a Ranger, his intelligence in the medical world is quite limited, Greene is really only able to keep himself going when needed, patching a wound or such. If wounded seriously enough, without another Ranger or supplies, he'd die due to his lack of knowledge.

Specialty: Firearms at range, fists and blades when close enough. Ben prefers to dispatch his enemies in a way that conserves ammunition which means he is frequently seeking ways to get up close to his unfortunate foes. Due to the lack of any suitable rifles in the area, Greene's gotten into the habit of getting close and using his shotgun more often then picking up a rifle.

Weapons:

-Ever since he was a young boy, Greene's been in possession of an old Bowie knife, kept in excellent shape, handed down for generations in his family. The handle is black with silver, brass-knuckle-like grips wrapping around the holder's fingers. The blade itself is thick, always sharpened, able to carve through skin with ease. In a bind, or trying to save on the precious few bullets he carries, Ben always enjoys using the weapon. When not in use it is stashed in the sheathe attached to his belt on the right side.

-Picked up somewhere along in his travels as a young man, Greene managed to find a machete, makeshift but useful. It's easy to tell it was fashioned from scrap, Ben took it and fixed it up though, to resemble a proper blade. Fitted with a faded black handle, the blade is a breeze to wield. Swinging feels like a knife through melted butter. Through arduous practice he's learned to dual-wield his knife and his machete. When Ben isn't using it, it's held in the sheathe on the left side, opposite his knife.

-For short to mid-range engagements and for those hairy situations where a quick draw is needed and there's no time to disarm the other guy, Greene totes a http://www.coltautos.com/DA/PolicePositive/PolPos_32_206438g_IMG_7650.jpg, scavenged from an old police station when he was a young Ranger. It's been modified by himself to hold 6, .357 caliber bullets in a swing-out cylinder. increasing the chambered size from .32 or .38 special to the more beefy .357 round. The barrel itself has been elongated just slightly and is perfect for easy-concealment, stored with no fuss in a briast pocket or in the lining of a coat. It is Ben's pride to carry and he favors it due to its comfort when held and its ease-of-use in close-quarters.

-When a blade to the chest or one slashing an enemies' throat open isn't enough, Greene pulls out his baby; the good ol' http://images.wikia.com/fallout/images/6/63/ScreenShot37png.png lever-action shotgun modified to be larger, accepting 7 20-gauge shotgun shells instead of the normal 5 one such gun would hold. It is worn in appearance but works like a charm, Ben takes meticulous care of the old gun and is one of his favorite methods in dispatching an adversary.

Armor: Though as a Captain Greene has access to armor much more advanced, he refuses it and goes with a classic. In his eyes anyway. He wears an old yet heavy and protective ( from dirt anyway ) dark brown duster, strapped over the shoulders with leather pauldrons, all situated over a Desert Ranger combat armor chest plate. Matching the dark brown duster and differing from the lighter tan of the chest plate are the set of slacks that Ben dons to keep himself decent. Covering his feet are scuffed black combat boots, lacking in luster but excelling in comfort and reliability. Upon his head sits an old cowboy hat, the same color as his pants and duster. In his coat pocket sits a set of black sunglasses and a black and white bandana. Around his neck dangles a set of dog tags, taken off and kept in his briast pocket when combat is imminent.

Clothes: When moseying around Fort Hood, or another safe zone, Ben dons a set of tan cargo pants, black combat boots, a plain white shirt with a light black vest over it. The same set of dog tags, with his various information including blood-type and such hang around his neck, even when he is asleep.

Backstory/Bio: ( I'll edit this in later, wanted to get this posted

Character Sheet:

Name: Trey "Cinder" Odelo
Rank: Lieutenant
Gender: Male
Age: Mid 30's
Race: Caucasian

Appearance & Physical Traits: ( Basically what they look like minus armor and clothing ) Being in the Rangers for a good portion of his life, Trey "Cinder" is very physically fit, though some would consider him a bit lean, weighing in at approximately 175 lbs. He has short black hair in a buzz cut style, as well as a very short black beard (more stubble than anything, think http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vKWz0viRP-E/UC_rGCjQAsI/AAAAAAAAAuI/lvg-lkMoHUQ/s1600/beard+styles+oval+face.jpg). Height wise, Trey is about average, leveling out at about 6'2. His body is covered in scars, the most prominent being a rather large one starting from his right shoulder going across his chest/upper abdomen from a knife would he received from his father, who cut him with a bowie knife during training long ago.

Personality: Trey is a very quiet man, as well as very calculating, and some would even call him emotionless. That is not to say he is cold by any means however. He has a deep love for his parents, especially his dad, whom he reveres as a hero in every sense of the word. He's a very loyal man, and while quiet, will not hesitate to speak out against any injustice done to one of his comrades, especially to the ones who have been there longer and have gotten to know him. He is a man of duty though, willing to put the mission above all else as his father taught him to do. Morally, he would be considered "Chaotic Good", as he has no quarrel with killing those who he deems it necessary to kill, but at the same time wants to protect the innocent. With his fellow Rangers, he is a rather amiable person when approached, though true to form, does not initiate conversations much. This is not to say he is shy or insecure however, just that he isn't what one would call a "people's person". To others not of the Rangers, he would appear cold. He is very patriotic as well, always admiring the old stories his father would tell him of the U.S Marines, of which he himself was of. The one thing anyone who knows anything about him will say, is that he is above all a patient man, a skill he tends to exercise frequently.

Skills: ( What is your character proficient in? Not just one word like " Speech ", describe them ) Trey's main specialty is guns, more specifically a rifle or pistol. As he was in the Rangers for most of his life, as well as having a Marine for a father, he knows a good bit on survival as well as first aid, though nothing in-depth on the latter subject. He is also somewhat of a statistician, and can anolyze a combat scenario fairly easily. However, if one were to ask him what his best skill was, he would say that it is his patience, with other people as well as in combat.

Specialty: ( In Combat) Trey's primary role is a Scout Sniper. As such, he is a highly skilled marksman. He also does extensive training with his pistol and knife, and is rather fluent in CQC techniques.

Weapons: ( Nothing crazy, at least for a while, not too many weapons either, think mid-tier of New Vegas for limitations, or run something by me in the OOC or PM's ) There are three weapons Trey will carry with him into battle: First and foremost, his rifle, second his sidearm, and third his Bowie knife.

Sniper Rifle: The rifle is a scoped Springfield M1903 model rifle his father nicknamed Night Shade. As such, he inherited the rifle from his father. The rifle is very precious to him, as out of all the rifles his father had owned throughout the years, this had been his favorite, and out of a show of love, he game the rifle to Trey as gift when he joined up with the Rangers. Physically, the gun is old, though in good condition, as Trey is very meticulous about it's upkeep. The gun itself has a coat of deep matte black paint (hence Night Shade) with a similar colored scope.

9mm pistol: A standard 9mm pistol common throughout the wasteland. Serves as Trey's primary side arm. Though he doesn't have one with him, can be equipped with a silencer. No real personal side story attached to the gun, Trey simply purchased it long ago when he first joined the Rangers.

Bowie knife: Another gift from his father, the Bowie knife has been in Trey's possession ever since he turned 16. Before that, the knife was used by his father during the various conflicts he was in while serving with the Marine Corps. When Trey turned 16, his father presented it him as a gift. A standard Bowie knife by all accounts, has U.S.M.C etched into the blade itself.

Armor: Standard Desert Ranger Combat Armor with a few extras,changes, and basic modifications.

Armor itself is the basic riot gear and trench coat, with the upper portions of the armor looking similar to elite riot gear, minus the pauldrons. Instead of using jeans however, Trey has a full set, complete with leg armor to match the upper portion. The right shoulder of the armor has USMC etched into it, to honor his father. The left has rendition of a scope's cross hairs to show he is a sniper. Recently, the trench coat has had a patch of the symbol the U.S army used for Lieutenant added as well. The armor itself is the traditional desert camouflaged pattern used on most armors. The Trench coat is also camouflaged in the desert pattern. The armor also has a chest rig for holding the Bowie knife's scabbard as well as extra ammunition.

Helmet: The helmet tends to be a bit of a mix between the Elite Riot gear's helmet, and a traditional Ranger helmet, streamlined to fit a sniper's needs while providing him with a degree of protection.

Clothes: ( Outside of combat ) Standard civilian attire is a light brown T-Shirt and tan cargo pants. Usually wears a ball cap (Tan preferably) and sunglasses.

Backstory/Bio:

Trey "Cinder" Odelo was born the only son of Ivan and Maria Odelo, who lived in Nevada before the war. Ivan Odelo was no ordinary man however, as he himself was a decorated Marine Force Recon sniper who served during the Resource Wars and a few previous conflicts, mostly stationed on the front lines of places like China. Towards the end of the War, Ivan was granted a honorable discharge as his wife was announced to be having their baby, Trey. Ivan returned from the war to his wife and newborn in Nevada, and the small family started their new life together out in the country, a place where the family could relax and be away from all the hustle and bustle of city life.

However, life was not at all peaceful for the new family. In 2077, the unthinkable happened. China and the U.S had launched their nuclear weapons at each other, decimating most of the civilized world. The small family had turned to one of Ivan's father's friends for shelter in a old fallout shelter, and together, the group waited out the nuclear holocaust.

When they emerged, the world had changed. The cities that Ivan and Maria were so used to were gone, irradiated craters all that remained. So the small group was left with only one option, settle what they could and eek out an existence as best they could.

It wasn't so easy though. The family, seeing farming wasn't a great option anymore due to radiation, decided to head move out closer to the border of Nevada and California. Eventually, they decided to settle in a small, isolated town where Ivan and Maria decided it would be best to raise their son at.

Finally, things settled down. Peace, albeit fraught with the perils of the wastes, was finally granted unto the new family. Years passed. Trey grew up.

Trey's upbringing was a bit different from other children though. The main reason for that was Trey's dad was a Marine Force Recon sniper, and was hellbent on teaching Trey every single thing he could to keep his precious child alive, even if that meant putting the child himself into some rather perilous predicaments and emphasizing "tough love" on the young man. As soon as Trey was old enough, a rigorous training regime was placed on the boy, in order to sharpen both mind and body. Shooting was a main focus of this training, mainly rifles and small arms. CQC was also emphasized a good bit. The training method Ivan used was so brutal in fact, it often resulted in Trey getting injured, as exemplified when Trey got a rather large, deep scar from his right shoulder down to his left side from knife training with his father.

Despite the harsh upbringing, Trey's father loved the boy very much, and constantly made sure he knew that. And Trey did, growing up wanting to be exactly like him, looking up to him as if he were the perfect man.

Trey's father Ivan also made sure that the values of the Marine Corps, Honor, Courage, and Commitment were instilled upon the growing boy. His father taught him also of the world before, his love of what it stood for, and why he fought for it, giving Trey a great sense of patriotism for the old nation that he was born into, but never remembered. His father would often regale Trey with stories of his time as a sniper in the Marines, killing the enemies of his homeland with valor and pride. Such stories motivated Trey to become a sniper later on in life with the Rangers.

At the age of 16, Trey was given his first rifle, a old but well-maintained weapon known as Night Shade. The gun was his father's favorite among his vast assortment of rifles, and he gave Trey this as a symbol of his becoming a man.

When Trey turned the age of 18 however, something strange shattered the otherwise peaceful existence of the small community. A group calling themselves the Desert Rangers came to town, telling the people of their fight against tyranny, for justice and for honor, and how they were looking for a few good men to help in that fight. Trey was immediately enamored with the armored figures, their descriptions matching the old stories of the Marines his father had told him. Finally he had the chance he had dreamed of, to follow in his dear father's footsteps and fight for something that mattered, something the old United States the Marines fought for so long ago. And Trey was not one to let a chance like this go to waste.

With his father and mother's blessing, Trey officially joined the Desert Rangers at the age of 19, continuing to hone his skills as he fought for something he believed worth fighting for, living out his life's dream to be like his father.

And not long after, he ended up following in his father's footsteps a lot closer than he would have thought. Due to his extensive shooting experience from all his childhood years, as well as natural prowess, the Desert Ranger officially made Trey part of their sniper unit, a position Trey accepted with great pride, the realization that he was now more like his father the hero than ever swirling about his mind, filling him with confidence and pride. His family was quite proud as well, his father constantly praising him for his accomplishments.

While out on patrol one day, Trey and a small team of recon snipers found an village of what appeared to be cannibalistic raiders tormenting prisoners. After a disgusting display of mutilating the poor people, Trey had had enough. He opened fire on the raiders, taking them out one by one from afar. When all was said and done, the small sniper group had taken down a good number of the enemy forces, the rest surrendering. Trey himself tied up the self-proclaimed leader of the group and burned him alive in front of the raider survivors as punishment for the atrocities they had committed, reducing the savage to ash. Afterwards he did the same to the rest of the fiends. From then on, he was known as "Cinder" by friends and foe alike.

Time passed as it normally does, and Trey's parents, as well as Trey's father's friend, passed away, joy in their hearts that their son had become a strong, virtuous man who was able to fulfill his life's dream. Though the deaths affected Trey greatly, they only served to strengthen the young man's resolve to become a better soldier. Positive effects were not the only thing the deaths had on Trey though. He grew cold toward others, that part of his heart never fulling healing. He took up the name "Cinder" for real at that time, choosing to let only those who were close to him know his real name.

Over the course of the next few years, Trey was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant for meritorious service in the field of battle, as well as a host of other achievements and accomplishments. Trey was then transferred to the unit of Norman Jones due to his combat record of being a extremely deadly sniper. Trey bid farewell to his home and set out with the group to the lands of Texas, the roots of the Desert Rangers' ancestors.

After a grueling journey that tested the elite group's very limits, Trey, acting as one of the forward scouts, finally laid eyes upon the much sought-after Fort Hood, Pre-War flag flying in the glory he had imagined it. He reported his findings to his superiors, who then formed a plan of attack.

Trey himself was assigned to provide sniper support for the battle. Finally, after a rather cunning plan by two men named Greene and Walker and a grueling battle for the fort itself, the day was won. The fort now belonged to the Desert Rangers.

Now resupplied and rested, Trey now is under the direct command of his friend Captain Greene, ready and willing to protect those in need of him, just as his father had done decades ago.

Name: Anna Frost
Rank: Private/Recruit
Gender: Female
Age: mid 20's
Race: Caucasian

Appearance & Physical Traits: Anna is what most people would call considerably attractive, but by no means is she a model or something of the like. As far as imperfections go, she has a few scars here and there on her arms from various events in her childhood, but not on her face. Her hair is a maroon color, and is usually kept in a ponytail. Weight-wise, Anna is a thin woman, weighing in at only 140 lbs. though what weight she does have is made up of well-toned muscles from her training as a Ranger. As far as height goes, she is about a half of a foot shorter than Trey, her new boyfriend, making her around 5'6 to 5'7. (For an exact image of what Anna looks like, refer to thishttp://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120606143528/fantendo/images/4/4f/Chara24.jpg.)

Personality: One word that wold describe Anna is bubbly. She's a very talkative person, and very friendly as well. However, this stems from her genuine innocent nature, which is almost a total obliviousness to the horrors of the world around her. She's very optimistic, and is able to see the good in just about everyone, most notably her new boyfriend, Trey Odelo, who would otherwise come off as cold and even cruel to other people. However, she is loyal to a fault, and whole-heartedly believes in the Rangers' mission to bring justice to the wastes. To that end, she is extremely dedicated to becoming stronger and better as a Ranger. She has a "aura" of perseverance about her, and she will not give up easily, even if she is borderline hopeless at it. She also has the tendency to be very emotional, much to Trey's distress. A girl who "wears her heart on her sleeve", she is not in the slightest afraid to speak whatever is on her mind, even to her superiors on more that a few occasions, causing Trey to occasionally whisper for her to "keep her mouth shut". Often, this leads her into trouble with her more strict superiors, though luckily for her Trey, being a Lt., is more than willing to defend her and bail her out, though not without reprimanding her himself, if one could call it that. All in all, she is a very amiable and likeable person, almost naively so.

Another thing of interest about Anna is the fact she is very clumsy, often tripping on seemingly nothing, much to Trey's annoyance, and sometimes amusemant.

When it comes to Trey however, her true innocence shines. She's extremely doting and caring and is not afraid to let Trey know of her affections, often to Trey's great annoyance. She is also what one would describe as "clingy". For all that though, she genuinely cares for Trey, being loyal to him as much as humanly possible. Deep down, Trey knows this and greatly appreciates it, though it would take a lot for him to admit it.

Skills: Anna isn't a woman of many skills, though she fancies herself a conversationalist and a general "people person" as she is very easy to get along with. She can also cook, and has a growing knowledge of the medical field, the latter of which she uses Trey to "practice" with when he gets injured.

Specialty: ( In combat ) Being a natural klutz, Anna is not a typical combat-oriented person. Trey has however taken notice of this, and frequently trains her in the art of shooting and basic close combat techniques. She is improving, however slightly that may be.

Weapons: Being a recruit, Anna has the simple recruit kit the Rangers issued her, a service rifle, a .9mm side arm, and a combat knife.

Armor: Anna's combat uniform consists of a rather snug fitting leather armor with a almost back duster. Recently, she's taken up wearing ahttps://lh6.googleusercontent.com/public/H4B4RhAF1dB6pfExA89PLXOPBxr9Zpkc4y-UYkQ4FNnAhczux0YVFu6DAkLlZ2EN5BxEzPaj-P2kQ-8sULvEy6mswrHxenYRHKoex8AXkM7vrotZnVuSWWJMwU-Co51FaqZxeDy-LWtdPh_MPnV1Qg=s220-c in and out of combat in place of a standard helmet.

Clothes: Outside of uniform, Anna wears a similar outfit to Trey (what she would call a act of affection, and what he would consider "annoying") with a tan T-Shirt, cargo pants, and aforementioned ball cap. Unique however, is the fact she usually wears a light tan vest over the T-shirt. Fastened to this vest is a cloth (Think almost like a poncho. Sorta) that covers the top portion of her torso and upper back.

Backstory/Bio: Anna's life up until this point was rather simple. The daughter of a general store owner in a nearby town, she grew up around the Fort Hood area. Her parents were the loving kind, taking great pains to make sure she was happy and well-to-do.

Life for a young Anna was a simple yet happy one. The town she grew u p in was small, but it was a safe place. It had kept it's old pre-war system of the police, and order was generally not lacking in the area. Life was fairly easy for the young woman, being a rather sociable person, she had plenty of friends growing up and was rather liked by most everyone.

But just because the life was peaceful and safe does not mean it was the life Anna had wanted for herself. Occasionally, travelers from around the area and beyond would visit, often regaling the children with stories of the Post-War world, and all the wonders, and horrors, it held. Had Anna been a normal girl, she probably would have stayed away from the wastes, heeding the warnings given unto her by the travelers. But she was an adventurous type, and short little excursions outside of the small community became common place for her.

Despite all this though, she never did wander far from home, not willing to leave her family behind. Her parents however, seeing how badly she wanted to go out and explore the world for herself, offered her a solution to her problems, one that would change her life: The Desert Rangers.

The Rangers by this time had arrived at Fort Hood and had taken it, claiming it for their own. Tales of the heroes reached the small settlement, and Anna's parents decided if she was going to go out on her own, the Rangers would be the best solution. They would teach her about this cruel world she knew nothing of, and more importantly, give her the skills to combat it.

Anna, true to form, jumped at the chance, and in her mid 20's was officially inducted into their ranks. Though she didn't have a mind (or coordination) for combat, her unwavering dedication to their cause and her tenacity led her to become accepted, and she began her training.

It was here she met the man who would end up changing her life forever: Lieutenant Trey "Cinder" Odelo, a recon sniper who had served with the Rangers for over half of his life. She ended up falling for the man after being sent by Captain Greene to go round Trey up for a mission, and tried whatever she could to gain his affections.At first, Trey was unimpressed and even more so annoyed by the girl. Eventually though, Trey cracked and admitted to her (Though begrudgingly) that her show of affections had won him over. He promised he'd take care of her from then on and more importantly would teach her how to take care of herself in this world she was so oblivious too, though deep within himself, swore that he wouldn't let it hurt her or change her.

Name: Tommy Rutger
Rank: Warrant Officer
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Race: Caucasian

Appearance & Physical Traits: Around 6 feet, Tommy is slightly below average in his height and is not the biggest or most muscular man around. He does not have a large amount of muscle compared to other Rangers but Rutger must maintain his level of strength to carry around his tools and equipment. He is not deeply toned, but his skin does have a light tan to it from years in the desert. Tommy’s face is slightly rounded and still somehow retains baby fat to it. He sports a bit of stubble in the light chocolate that his hair is. His hair is always cleanly cut so that he can use his comms equipment more effectively. Tommy is around 195 lbs and has little excess fat except in his cheeks.

Personality: Tommy is very socially awkward and generally speaks quickly, but when around friends his shell can be cracked open a little bit. He has a good sense of humor and shares it with those who are close to him. He doesn’t like to talk about his thoughts with other people and instead records his musings on holotapes or talks to his jury-rigged Mr. Gutsy.

Skills: (What is your character proficient in? Not just one word like “Speech ", describe them ) Tommy knows his way around a terminal and is very skilled at repairing weapons, armor, and even robots. He is also one of the few Rangers capable of using a radio and has to carry a bulky, jury rigged ham radio.

Specialty: (In combat) Tommy will usually use a rifle paired with a pistol for closer occasions but he generally stays out of the thick of the fray so his special equipment won’t get damaged.

Weapons: (Nothing crazy, at least for a while, not too many weapons either, think mid-tier of New Vegas for limitations, or run something by me in the OOC or PM’s) A Modified Service Rifle that has an extended magazine along with a smooth barrel to increase the rate of fire. Tommy will usually use a trusty 9mm Pistol as well, if only for when the carbine is overkill.

Armor: ( Feel free to make the armor your own, add little things like goggles around your character's neck, patches of cloth covering a whole if you'd like ) Tommy has modified combat armor to carry his tools and has a special pocket that is nature-proofed so that he can keep sensitive materials safe. He has use a special reinforced fiber to protect the joints of the armor and reinforced the pads to keep him safe from most low end melee weapons. He usually wears a wide brimmed Stetson with some plating instead of a helmet as his equipment is nigh impossible to use with a helmet on. He usually keeps some reinforced goggles on to protect part of his face, but is overall restricted by the comms equipment he has to use.

Clothes: (Outside of Combat) In most situations outside of combat Tommy will don a greasy red jumpsuit, but for more formal occasions he will clean himself up and put on some slightly dirty Prewar casual wear.

Backstory/Bio: (I’d like this to be a little lengthy, but nothing massive needed) Tommy’s parents were both Robco workers who had been at work when the bombs fell. His parents retreated to the company bunker with other workers and everyone stayed down there until the radiation had started to cool down. When they emerged they were scared of the horrors of the wasteland and decided to stay in the company building and kept the robots working to protect them. Around 6 years after the bombs fell Tommy’s mother was pregnant with him. He was born in 2084 on November 7^th. His mother barely survived the birth, but thanks to help from the robots, both Tommy and his mother survived. There were very few children in the community, so they were all taught the ways of the machines and got some basic weapons training from the security portion, but never much. When Tommy was 27 the Desert Rangers first found the Robco building and he joined on with them. He had served eight years when he was selected to join a team that would be cleaning up the wasteland a little bit.

Name: Jesse White "Dead-Eye"
Rank: Gunnery Sergeant
Age: 28
Race: Caucasian

Appearance & Physical Traits: Jesse stands at about 5' 11" and has an athletic build. One of the first things people notice about Jesse is that his left eye is missing and replaced with an eyepatch. Jesse has jet black hair that he wears like a Mohawk. For facial hair he has a sole patch and stubble. His one eye that he still has is as green as an emerald. He also has a tattoo of an eye on his left bicep and a Pre-War California Flag on his chest.

Skills: Jesse is ironically good at using guns but mainly with rifles where he would have to squint an eye to use them. People will sometimes feel sympathetic for him and he uses it to his advantage to get his way.

Specials: Jesse always tries to aim for the head when shooting, he has a ratio of shots missed to hit of 3:1. Jesse uses a knife or his hands in close quarters situations.

Weapons: Jesse uses a hunting rifle that has an extended scope. He also has a trench knife with sharp, serrated, edges.

Armor: Jesse wears the usual Desert Ranger Combat Armor without a helmet. He wears a blood red bandana over his mouth and a pair of tinted goggles that are airtight to keep dust out of his missing eye. His trench coat on the combat armor is torn around the bottom of it with blood splats littering areas. He wears a pair of black steel-toed boots.

Clothes: Jesse wears a tank top and leather jacket. For pants he wears a pair of blue denim pants and he wears the same boots that he wears in combat. For headwear he wears a Boston Red Sox baseball cap and his eyepatch that has a skull on it.

Backstory/Bio: Jesse was born in a small town in Northern California. The NCR was nothing more than an idea at the time and California was as lawless as it used to be in the Wild Western days. He was taught how to hunt from his father who fed his family day to day with his hunting skills. Jesse had two brothers and two sisters and his mom died during child birth. His siblings disliked him and blamed him for the death of his mother.

When he was 21 he packed up all of his stuff and after years of being bullied by his family (except his father who loved him dearly) he finally left. He didn't even leave a note or anything telling him where he was going, maybe because he didn't know where he was going to go. He stole his oldest brother's Rifle, who didn't even use it, and left his small, unnamed, town and began heading South.

He reached the Mojave Wasteland at the age of 23 but he kept moving on. While he was still in the Mojave he was ambushed by a group of Raiders, who called themselves Vipers. He stepped on a land mine and jumped but and avoided a missing leg, but the shrapnel scraqed his left eye. He was fading in and out of reality and thought he was dead, until a group of heroes who were in the right place at the right time began attacking the Raiders. One of them took cover near him and he managed to sputter, "Help... Me..." Jesse passed out and thought he was dead for sure, but he woke up in an infirmary being tended to. His depth perception seemed different and a doctor told him what happened to his eye.

A few days later Jesse left the hospital and swore his life to the Rangers. He made a vow to owe his life to them until the day he dies.

Name: Hannibal

Rank: Sergeant

Gender: Male

Age: Mid-seventies

Race: Mutant, possibly Native American or Middle Eastern.

Appearance & Physical Traits: After his mutation Hannibal developed a large frame. The first thing most people notice is his substantial height. Hannibal stands at an unnatural seven feet and seven inches tall. While this height doesn't even compare to a Super Mutant's ten and a half feet Hannibal stands completely straight-backed (unlike Super Mutants), therefore appearing only slightly shorter. His mutation also greatly increased his muscle mass and eliminated almost all fat, giving him a heavily muscled, yet still lanky frame. The man-beast has a great, barreled chest with large lungs that give him a substantial amount of endurance and long limbs that allow large strides and the use of his long bow. When around others Hannibal tries to hide his height by punching his back and bending his knees slightly, though he still appears massive.

Hannibal's skin has green tint to it, clearly marking him as the mutant he is. Blue veins crisscross his body, easily visible, and despite his dangerous lifestyle his skin remains devoid of scars from both blade and bullet (though the one time he got shot he almost died). This is because of his regenerative abilities, though they do their work much slower than a normal mutant's (weeks or months). One of Hannibal's three great shames is his face. What he thinks was once a relatively attractive face has become monstrous. His cheekbones now jut out grotesquely and his eyes are deeply hooded by his brow. His jaw is thickly muscled and too wide to be natural while his chin juts forward. Thankfully, Hannibal has not been cursed with the cruel sneer of his more heavily mutated brethren and his eyes, which are a soft brown, have remained unchanged. Hannibal has lost the ability to grow hair at all.

His second great shame is his voice. His vocal chords were altered in his mutation so that, despite his greatest efforts, his voice always comes out somewhere between a snarl and a harsh whisper. Because of this Hannibal avoids talking around those he thinks will judge, outcast, or even attack him. Because of his lack of speech many think him a simpleton.

Personality: The best way to describe Hannibal is conflicted. While he is at heart a good man who wants to help others in any way possible he struggles to control the animalistic impulses that came with his mutation. Hannibal views things in black and white, a leftover from his past life perhaps, and firmly places people, actions, and things in one category or the other. So when thoughts of murder and cannibalism frequently cloud his mind you can imagine the pain it brings him. He has yet to place himself in one of the categories but after his last two "accidents" he has been leaning more towards black.

Despite what any others infer, Hannibal is by no stretch a savage or antisocial. The mutant simply does not feel comfortable in the company of most others because of the hate they exude towards his kind. When he does feel comfortable around a person, or perhaps even comes to call them a friend, he is fiercely loyal. He jokes and converses just like any other man and is not afraid to speak his mind and be blunt. Despite his appearance, Hannibal is a rather patient, forgiving, and calm person, usually preferring non-violence and almost never getting angry. The one sure way to make him your enemy, however, is bigotry towards him.

Skills: Years of experience in the wasteland have made Hannibal an expert hunter and tracker. He can remain self-sufficient for an extreme amount of time, perhaps forever. Massive muscles, long arms, decades of practice, and an iron grip make Hannibal an excellent archer with his over sized long bow, able to draw extreme weights and put an arrow into a small moving target from a substantial distance away. In addition, Hannibal is a force of nature in close quarters, being able to effectively wield either his axe or knife. Hannibal is also an experienced falconer and has, oddly enough, mastered sewing from decades of practical experience.

Disadvantages (Thought these could help balance my character out a bit): Hannibal knows nothing of computers and has the lowest grade of mechanical understanding possible. His mutation also makes it nearly impossible to interact with most people. The mutant doesn't like the feel of a trigger in his over sized hands and therefore has never had practised with a gun or energy weapon (the extent of his knowledge is what end shoots the bullet/laser). His hands are also too large for doing more delicate things (besides sewing) and his frame is too big for him to even think of sneaking. Hannibal also can't fit into any armor that is not custom made for him, an even then it's difficult.

Specialty: Hunter, tracker, and falconer.

Weapons: Longbow: Hannibal's most prized object and main weapon is his over sized longbow. The bow has a massive draw weight, draw length, and a height of six feet and four inches, effectively making it unusable by anyone else. An assortment of mixed arrows accompanies this bow, everything from broadheads to blunt tips, all slung in a quiver strapped onto Hannibal's back. The extreme power of the bow and the accuracy that Hannibal can achieve with it can bring down a group of enemies without them hearing a thing or a simple snake destined for the dinner plate.

Hera: Hera is the name of Hannibal's hunting bird, a great, unmutated Golden Eagle. The eagle's wingspan is a massive 7.5 feet and she weighs 13 pounds (which is pretty average for a female Golden Eagle). Hera is expertly trained and has a sort of "bond" or "understanding" with Hannibal. The eagle has normal markings (dark brown feathers on the majority of the body with a lighter, more golden color around the back of the neck and head) and is outfitted with all of the proper equipment (tethers, bells, and a hood). Hera is used for hunting all sorts of prey, ranging from small birds to coyotes and even a lone wolf every once in a while. The bird can also preform something Hannibal calls "spotting" which is an activity where the bird flat high overhead Hannibal and screams loudly when she spots a humanoid before starting to circle over them.

Fire Axe: In close combat or when wood Hannibal wields a large fire axe with ease. The axe is painted a olive green that has worn off around the blade to reveal the steel beneath. The mutant's reach and strength allows him to use the axe with deadly efficiency.

Hannibal's Knife: When skinning animals or caught in combat to tight to use his axe effectively in Hannibal wields a heavy steel knife as long as his forearm (which is pretty long). One stab from Hannibal's knife and you probably aren't going to get back up.
http://i.imgur.com/FVKUF.png

Armor: With no armor really being able to fit him, Hannibal's armor is completely custom. Hundreds of feet of lightweight, grey cloth coil around his body concealing any hint of skin besides his hands and head. The cloth allows for unmatched movement and is breathable, giving him the same movement ability that he would have if he were unclothed. Over this he sometimes wears a dark brown sleeveless long coat tailor made for him. His massive feet are wrapped in the same cloth as the rest of his body and bound in homemade leather sandals. His hands are exposed to allow easier use of his bow and a thick leather bracer is put on his forearm to provide a perching and landing spot for Hera. Overall the outfit requires little protection and has to be repaired (sewed, actually) in the field often.

Clothes: While in an area where humans dwell Hannibal dons leather gloves and pulls a deep hood (which is attached to his long coat) over his face. This is to completely conceal his skin because Hannibal found out long ago that sometimes the sight of green skin is enough to draw up an eager lynch mob. Besides this no changes are made to his armor.

Backstory/Bio: Hannibal was born thirty or so years before the bombs dropped. Remembering things from that time of his life is difficult and the memories he does have are muddled and jumbled. The only two significant things he remembers is that his name started with an H and he had a sizable library, the only location he can vividly remember. Then things became clouded, he remembers great pain and madness from that time period.

What actually happened in that time was Hannibal's transformation. He's not sure what caused it, FEV, radiation, or a mixture of the two, but then again, it doesn't really matter. The transformation was a relatively fast one, within a week his hair had fallen off and his veins bulged out grotesquely. Then he started to forget the simplest thing from his past life and his muscle mass grew rapidly without training. Soon after thoughts of the hunt forced their way into his mind and he started forgetting who he was. Within two or three months he had become something completely different, bulging muscles, distant eyes, a massive form, and a savage face. He hunted like a lone wolf and lost any semblance of humanity killing and eating man and beast alike.

But then the process started to lessen for some reason. Now Hannibal thinks that the savage behavior was a result of high radiation levels or the initial madness of mutation, moat likely the former. His kills brought thoughts to the edge of his mind, telling him what he was doing was wrong in some way. The process of returning to a human state of mind was a very slow one and by the time it was done the year was 2080. The animalistic urges stayed but Hannibal could control them easier, probably because of his strong belief that those thoughts were evil ones.

His first idea was to visit civilization just days after he regained himself. From what he could gather he was somewhere in Central Illinois and, knowing that there was population up north, that's the way he went. Hannibal, still drowsy from his transformation and stripped naked from his time as a beast, wandered into a small town. When the villagers saw him they cried out and retreated, afraid of the mutant. Hannibal was confused, as he hadn't been thinking correctly lately and hadn't yet seen his reflection. Within seconds the town was devoid of people and the man-beast stumbled into an in of cowering people, drawn by the smell of food.

He approached the bartender, covering behind his bar, and started to ask for food. But then Hannibal heard his voice, a bestial sound that barely counted as "human" at all. The shock and horror he felt seemed to snap him out of his trance. He looked at his horribly deformed hands for the first time and recoiled at the sight. Green, heavily muscled hands with blood- human or animal, he didn't know- caked into the nails replaced what we're once delicate fingers. The rest of his body looked the same, grotesquely muscled and a green tint all over crisscrossed by bulging veins and the hint of quickly fading scars. He was a monstrosity, towing over the people who eyed him with great fear in the far corners of the inn.

The beast ran from the small, new town in fear of himself. He wandered for a while in the crippled planes of Illinois, once again hunting like an animal but now using his superior human intelligence and reasoning. He gave other people a wide berth and only snuck into small villages at night to snatch something essential. He began honing his hunting skills, setting up traps and snares to catch smaller game and setting up stands in the stunted trees to sleep at night and keep away from the predators below. For the longest time Hannibal (who had not yet named himself) lived like this, hunting with his knife and clothing himself in cloaks of furs in the colder months. He was something of a fictional character around the area, told in stories around campfires. He had no goal in life other than to survive.

He came to accept his mutation and begrudgingly admitted that without it he would be long dead. He soon grew a great love for the hunt, the ability to sustain himself with his own muscle and smarts. He fashioned spears from bone and wood and started practicing with the sling, gradually hunting larger arrows. The mutant never stayed in one area for long to prevent a shortage of game and edible plants. Then one day he found the ruins of a large, seemingly abandoned town and entered it, hoping to find something useful. But instead he found something completely different, mutants.

This piqued Hannibal's curiosity. The memory of his first visit to civilization, who knows how long ago, was still vivid in his memory. The people had cringed and ran because he looked different but these people- no, things- looked like him, disgusting. So Hannibal approached them with his back straight and confidence in his walk. He asked for the leader of the group and was escorted to a larger than average mutant by the name of Axle. The mutant greeted him as a brother and did not cringe at his appearance or voice. Hannibal asked what this group was and the mutant simply replied "We are kin".

Hannibal liked the sound of that. He hadn't had so much as a civilized conversation since before the Great War, much less friendship or brotherhood. So the destitute man-beast asked he could join, offering up his skills of hunting. Axle let out a great, bellowing laugh and told him that he would be happily welcomed into the society. Hannibal felt happier than he had in years. So that night, Axle invited Hannibal to hunt with them in the downtown area. Hannibal was confused at why the beasts would hunt in the city but accepted anyway.

The a small band of six or seven mutants, all larger than Hannibal, ran off deeper into the tangle of buildings, hooting and hollering. Hannibal was slightly annoyed that the men were making so much racket and likely scaring away the game but he followed all the same, not wanting to be kicked out of the Brotherhood. The he caught sight of their prey and his heart stopped.

A small family hid within a tangle of rubble, three females and one male, none of them armed. But this didn't matter to the mutants, they proceeded to fall upon the family, tearing their bodies in half with blade, hand, and tooth alike. They wasted no time cooking, or even picking out the bones and hair. Hannibal simply stood petrified. But the worst part was not the scene in front of him, it was the stirring within him. Something bestial hungered within his briast at the sight of the fresh blood and meat. His blood grew hot and his lips salivated, the family looked delicious.

Axle saw his stillness and stopped in the middle of his meal of young intestines, asking what was wrong. It took great effort on Hannibal's part to respond, and when he did he doesn't think that they were the right ones to say.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked quietly.

Axle simply looked at him questionably and said words that would haunt Hannibal for years into the future.

"It is what our kind does."

It is what our kind does. It was true enough, Hannibal thought, he had felt the urge to do unspeakably evil things on more than one occasion. Just moments earlier he had wanted to feed on the flesh so badly. He was a monster, a sinner, there was no lying to himself.

So Hannibal ran from what could have been his brothers, what could have been his life, what could have been his next meal. He ran for a long time, not sure of which direction he was going, drawn to a location by an invisible beacon. Dark turned to day and he stumbled along, not quite sure of what he was doing. He past through another town which seemed to tickle at him mind and fell asleep in a house that seemed to radiate memories from a life long gone.

He woke and realized that he was indeed in a place he knew. The library, his library, the only place of clarity in his memories of his pre-war life. He surmised that the house was his house, the tiny village his village. Hannibal was bewildered by sight and searched the rest of the house. It was mostly destroyed, with only the library and basemant intact, and most everything from Pre-war times was burned away or looted. But one thing miraculously stayed intact, a picture farm of a family of three, a couple in their 30s and young boy.

The picture didn't stir up any memories but when he looked at the eyes of the man he recognized his own. Hannibal wasn't sure if the man was him, his father, his brother, or a stranger with similar eyes, but he kept the picture and cherished it anyway. Upon checking the basemant he found two skeletons, one small and male and one average sized and female. Wondering if perhaps the couple were his wife and kind Hannibal picked up the two skeletons piece by piece and buried them deep in the backyard together. With watery eyes and a trembling hand the beast brought his knife up to his own neck, he had nothing to live for anyway, why not get rid of one more monstrosity that plagued the hell hole that earth now was?

But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead the brute simply covered up the hole, marked it properly, and set up shop in the old house. He wasn't sure exactly what year it was because he had no way of keeping time in the wasteland, which now had seasons that were sometimes completely unnoticed. He hunted around the area and scavenged the deserted town that couldn't have held more than 700 people in its hay day. He started a garden in the backyard and even tamed a wild Brahmin for milk. Every night he read a new book from the library, hoping one of them would conjure up some sort of reorganization but disappointed when he found that none did.

He did gather something from the books, though. Along with the town library's stock, the books taught him many things of both the old world that he had forgotten and the art of survival which he had already almost mastered. In one particular volume of books he learned of both archery and falconry. Seeing that both of these arts could help his chance of survival he studied them eagerly, starting the long process of producing a Welsh longbow and searching every day while hunting for raptor nests. In preparation of keeping the raptor he made the proper supplies and set up a large netted flying area outside.

While he searched for his bird an made his bow he also found the house of what was apparently a tailor. Intrigued, the mutant searched the area and saw something that sparked his imagination. A box of hundreds of feet of grey cloth that was both both breathable and light. The giant wrapped himself with the garb and quickly learned how to mend the cloth when needed. He also tailor made a sleeveless longcoat from his now-butchered Brahmin to fit over his massive form.

Almost simultaneously, the longbow was found and the proper. raptor was found. He practised nonstop with both, having nothing else to do. Before long he could easily punch an arrow through a wolf and command his hawk (a Harris Hawk) with great precision. He fortified the small village and protected it from small groups of Raiders and other mutants on numerous occasions. The town became somewhat of a legend in the area, just like Hannibal had long ago. This is also around the time Hannibal had started calling himself Hannibal, based off of one of the many books he spent his time reading.

The game started to grow scarce in the area. Hannibal wasn't sure how many years he spent there, three at least, but he was certain that he had either killed off all the game or scared them away. The place was basically a fortress, built for one man and meant to be held by one man. He had put so much effort into the village, but he found himself both needing to leave and wanting to leave.

Life in the fort was... boring. There was no excitement of exploration, no challenge of new game in different environments. So the mutant decided to give his fort away to people who deserved it. He donned his gray garb, covering his skin completely, and went to the nearest settlement. Acting as a beggar, the giant stood on the side of the street and asked for money or food from the pedestrians. The first person who parted with a bit of money received the location of Hannibal's fort and the way in.

Then Hannibal took his equipment, falcon, and a bit of food and headed westward. The giant started to interact a bit more with people as he slowly went east. He would lend aid to people on the road and trade in towns more frequency. Hannibal was in no hurry, he had eternity and he knew it. He knew that he could ask the year but he didn't see how it was relevant. He crossed over old state boundaries until he reached Colorado. He set up a house there for some time and found a much larger hunting bird, a Golden Eagle, before leaving the complex to a person who deserves it after a few years, just like before.

Then, after a venture south, Hannibal found the Desert Rangers. Seeing their pure goals he decided to join and try to lend aid any way he could, though he's not sure how long he'll stay.

Name: Jonathan “Johnny” Wilson

Rank: corporal

Gender: Male

Age: 27

Race: Ameraisian (mixed Caucasian and Asian ancestry)

Appearance & Physical Traits: Jonathan is a 6’2 one with mixed Caucasian and Asian ancestry. Despite his height Jonathan has somewhat of a light build but with some muscles. Short black hair, blue eyes and a “ronin” facial hair

Jonathan is also slightly near-sighted and needs to wear glasses however he makes up for this by being fastest, as Johnny likes to say “I’m not see ya but you’re be dead before you see me.”

Personality: a good an honesty man but often likes to have fun with him notoriously known for being somewhat of a prankster despite this Jonathan is serious when needed to, following orders to the letter. Jonathan is however somewhat of a bigot & terrified of ghouls with him like to attack them out of fear on sight.

Skills:

(Guns) Often stated to be fasted quick drawer in the rangers, Jonathan is very skilled, accurate and deadly with Pistols and other small arms. Jonathan also knows how to use rifles and sniper rifles but prefers pistols to them all. Jonathan also likes energy weapons and was briefly taught how to use them but due to the difficulty of finding one he has little experience with them.

(Science & tech repair) Jonathan is a Certified Tech expert able to hack and command almost any computer or robot in the wasteland if given time. Jonathan also has the skill to repair broken tech equipment and knows how to salvage their mechanical corpses more efficiently.

Jonathan also has a natural bold with Jackie, his cyderdog and if one of few who can command her, with most other rangers she will just ignore them, with her once peeing all other ranger commander despite his protest.

Specialty: Tech Expert, also the ranger’s Dog Handler (since he owns their only dog.)

Weapons:

(I wanted 44. But oh well) a pair of Rossi R971 Revolver, Double Action and chambered in 357. Magnum they are both nickel plating and pearl grips. These pistols are family heirloom and along with the Beret being only things he has of his grandfather (USA Marine officer) and is well looked after by Jonathan.

(http://georgiagunstore.com/part_images/BRZR97104_1.jpg)

Jackie- Jonathan cyderdog and best friend since he found her almost 17 year ago, fiercely loyal to Johnny, Jackie has a powerful bite and can tackle people to the ground. Being a cyderdog she has extend life but this is only real benefit from it. (Jackie is usually kept at base as the watchdog but may be taken on special missions perhaps?)

Armour: Jonathan armour consists of brown cowboy boots; tan pants that has knee pad of the right knee and a red bandana tourniquet on the right leg, Johnny also wears a black leather belt with his pistol Holsters and a texan shaped belt buckle. On his up body Jonathan wears the Ranger combat armour (without duster) over a Tan shirt that has the sleeves rolled up and two black gloves. Finishing off the outfit Jonathan wears an old black marine Beret and a pair of reading glasses.

Clothes: outside of combat Johnny wear a duster coat along with some blue jeans, a brown cowboy hat and a random top. He keeps the boots and glasses on.

Backstory/Bio:

The grandchild of a USA Marine Captain and his Japanese wife who were lucky enough to get into Vault 10 an elected council (instead of just overseer) Vault located just a few miles outside of Houston, Jonathan was born in 2093, roughly one year after Vault 10 had opened up….

Going back to 2092, approximately 15 years after the Great War, Vault 10 council decided it was time to open the vault, however still fearful of the radiation and other dangers the majority of the vault dwellers stayed inside, with only a small volunteer force going outside to set up a small outpost, with jonathans parents and grandparents being a part of this group.

Within a year a small outpost had been set up using a GECK, with Jonathan and several other children being born however still fearful of the dangers, these children were only allowed to access the first floor of the Vault, were they were schooled and educated.

15 years passed and the outpost turned into small town able to grow plants, having a nearby water source (and vault water) along with being able to scavenge equipment from the ruins of Houston, with Johnny often fixing up the broken items such as Jackie, who had been found with two broken legs. Despite this however the vault was still paranoid to hell…

That was when disaster stuck; a small group of raiders attacked the vault town. Naturally the ex-vaulters with their well looked after weapons defended themselves but one of the raiders was captured, this man however was going though ghoulfilcation.

Sheer panic rushed though the town with everything thinking the sick raider has an post-war illness which ended lead to the vault closing and several people being killed, it was not for several days when the raider examined ghoulfilcation did things claim down but the damage was done, the vault was sealed and the small town, half destroyed was left to defend itself..

Whilst the town did after several year finally stabilized itself, Jonathan and several other during this time decided to leave and explore the wasteland or in Johnny’s case simply find some cool per-war technology.

Johnny spent the next several years wandering the wastes with Jackie, becoming quite effective with his grandfather’s pistol and hacking wasteland tech as he battled the wild men and other lesser horrors of the wastleland

By 2119 Johnny had become quite the experienced little traveller when he heard of some group called the desert rangers, after hearing they were formed by remnants of the Marines and other army groups he decided to join up, partly to honor his grandfather legacy and partly to help purge the wasteland of its horrors like ghouls…

Despite a causing a few pranks and that one “accident” when Jackie peed on the base commander Johnny had proved to be quite a good ranger and was promoted to corporal after a year with Jackie being the base’s official Guard dog, and occasional recruit “trainer” ….

Name: Charlie Charleston

Rank: Sergeant

Gender: Male

Age: 36

Race: Human

Appearance & Physical Traits: Slender but muscular bodybuild, a gaunt face with medium lenght brown hair and a beard thick enough to conceal skin going around his mouth and continuing its way alongside his chin to combine into his hair.

Personality: Thoughtful, cautious and helpful

Skills: Charlie can read and write, and sneak around quite well. And hide if need be. He can also shoot like a true wastelander.

Specialty: ( In combat ) Charlie excells in small arms, pistols and SMG's. And can use them especially well when he gets the element of surprise.

Weapons: Two 10mm pistols with silencers attached, slung to the both sides of his hips like revolvers on a cowboy. He only has one clip for each, though more bullets than that, and avoids reloading by shooting them empty in turns.

Armor: A light brown scarf coiled around his head to shield his head from sand storms and to blend it into the enviroment, motorcycle goggles either on his scarf over his forehead or over his eyes, http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/Leather_armor_Mk_II_%28Fallout_Tactics%29 and a pair of army issue boots. Also has fingertipless leather gloves.

Clothes: A stained white button shirt and ragged khakis.

Backstory/Bio: Born in years following the Great War, Charlie grew up in a group that consisted of three women and one man. The only male role model was a cowardly scavenger who had insisted Charlie was named after him, and who then taught the boy child he called "Junior" his art of sneaking and taking shots at foes from the shadows. While Charlie was taught to write and read by the women, of whom Charlie never got to know his true mother. Years rolled and Charlie grew, learning to shoot better and better and to sneak and hide like best of thieves.

But his easy life was broken when to babes were born into the commune, both to different women. As the two children grew and reached the age where they had to eat and drink more than just mothersmilk, the scavenger man, who Charlie had begun to suspect as his own father though never being sure, told him to leave so that supplies would remain sufficient. And so Charlie did, taking one 10mm pistol with him.

For some odd years he wandered the wastes, finding a second 10mm pistol for his own use in time and honing his existing skills and learning to live off the land to stay alive. He saw countless horrors in the wasteland, both human made horror and the mutant sort. And Charlie aided those in need to the best of his abilities, to grant them the state of life he had as a young boy, as easy as the wasteland allows, and peaceful. In his travels he often wondered about the suffering in the world, and when he found a faded black notebook alongside with a few pencils, he begun to write down his thoughts and keep record of his days.

As time flowed, Charlies road led him to the Desert Rangers, from who he acquired two fitting silencers for his guns, a group which he deemed to be more efficient to help the world with than just acting on his own. And when the expedition to Texas left, Charlie went with them. And the diary entry he made when the journey to Texas itself ended in Fort Hood was simple and a sort of a slogan to Charlie nowadays, "To live in a good world, we'd need good people. So we kill the bad ones."

Name: Travis Bear
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Race: Caucasian

Appearance & Physical Traits: Growing up in the rural areas of Texas, he inherited a slight southern accent which is heard clearly in some of his words. He stands about 6 feet and is moderately built due to Ranger training. His black hair is straight, short and messy, as he sees no point styling it in the Texas wastes. He has dark eyes, and a sarcastic grin is always plastered on his face. Overall he does not look very menacing, but those around him know what he’s capable of and know he is not to be underestimated.

Personality: Travis is loyal to the Rangers and his superiors, willing to lay his life down for the cause of bringing law and order back to the region. He is personable towards his comrades, but approaches outsiders in a professional manner. Usually, he is overall is charming and quick-witted, never turning down a challenge to talk his way out of things. Although, due to his shady past, Travis has his ups and downs personality wise, and relies heavily on Mentats to keep himself under control. Recently though, with the supply rations decreasing, he fears he’ll fly off the handle.

Skills: He is as good with a gun as any of the other Rangers, but not in any way extraordinary. What he lacks in weapons, he makes up for in unarmed combat, which he teaches to the newly recruited Rangers. Due to his Mentat addiction, he is highly focused and perceptive, fantastic with numbers, reading people and rationing. He has recently been in charge of keeping track of all the remaining supplies at Fort Hood (if the position is open lol). Although scavenging is definitely not his specialty, he scavenges everything and will literally keep anything he finds on missions, regardless if it applies to him or not.

Specialty: Unarmed Combat.

Weapons: He carries a standard issue service rifle. He also welds a .357 magnum revolver scavenged after the battle of fort hood. But he found it empty and has not found any bullets for it recently. He also carries a straight razor, which he uses to shave, but can be doubled up as a weapon.

Armor: Standard issue combat armor, not in the greatest condition. The armor on it is slightly mismatched because it was scavenged off the enemies’ corpses at the taking of Fort Hood, although one could hardly tell what color it was because it is usually very dirty. He carries a military-like backpack for scavenging and for storing his Mentats and cigarettes. He will wear a helmet on high risk occasions, but usually doesn’t.

Clothes: Outside of combat, Travis wears the standard t-shirt and jeans, or whatever is moderately clean.

Backstory/Bio: In 2093, Travis Bear was born in a small settlement near the Texas/Oklahoma border. The settlement was made up of former farmers and ‘dome dwellers’ who, before the war, banned together to build underground domes in case of Nuclear catastrophe. The settlement itself was located in a rural area, with nothing but a few dilapidated buildings shielding the town. Although most of the people were decently educated, they could do little to try and harvest the irradiated land. They did what they could though, only to find themselves under constant attack. Travis never knew how he survived the attacks growing up, but he knew one of them killed his biological parents, whom he has little memory of. His childhood was hazy, as he tends to block out every loss and bad decision in his life.

The settlement struggled, relying heavily on scavenging and luck. Luck was on their side, as the settlement slowly prospered as a local ‘government’ was established and scavenging parties were formed. At 17 and several scavenger hunts later, he became accustomed to roaming the wastes, and preferred it over the living in the settlement.

This went on for a couple more years, as the settlement turned into the town named “Tehoma” (creative I know haha), and structures were being built. Travis was now 20 and lead all the major long distance scavenges. Miraculously on one of the scavenges, Travis and his party ran across a hidden pre-war military bunker. Although, badly damaged and dilapidated, the team found intact weapons and took them for their own personal uses.

With town expansion and notoriety came crime in the town, as well as the continued attacks by outside raidersl. With no sense of order, the mayor sought out a town militia, which Travis eventually became in charge of. Usually outnumbered, they tactically fought off the raiders and gained town respect.

A usual raid on the town took a surprising turn as the Tehoma militia found themselves being assisted by the Texas Rangers passing through the area. The third in command of the Texas Ranger’s was intrigued by Travis’s leadership skills as well as his drive to fight for the town he loved, and recommended him for Ranger training. He whole-heartedly accepted, feeling he could make a difference in other places like he had done in Tehoma. He traveled many years with the Rangers, moving up the ranks and finally ranking up to Staff Sergeant after the Battle of Fort Hood in 2019. Now, 27, he continues to be dedicated towards serving the Rangers.

Name: Jane Soto
Apache Name: Liluye - Singing Hawk
Rank: Sergeant First Class - Medic
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Race: Apache

Appearance & Physical Traits: Lilu, as she likes to be called, has long, black hair that reaches down past her shoulder blades. In the sun, shimmers of bluish hues will shine through. Her high cheekbones and hawk-like nose are testaments to her proud heritage as an Apache. However, her almond shaped, golden-brown eyes, contrast her sharply chiseled features and soften her appearance.

Her ears are pierced several times and she makes her own jewelry. Usually it's something simple and delicate that won't interfere while on combat missions. Even in fatigues, she tries to retain her femininity.
On her left shoulder she proudly wears a tattoo of a Hawk, her totem.

She stands tall at 5'11" and keeps her body in top shape. Flat stomach, muscular arms and legs, are a sign that she is a warrior in her own right. When not on patrol or fixing up her fellow Rangers, she can usually be found exercising in the training yard.

Personality: Hot tempered at times, fiercely loyal, just and strong willed, are just a few traits that describe Lilu. Her father had instilled a great love for the law in her, which balances well with her own internal right for justice. At times, her sense of loyalty will be greatly tested, especially when it comes to helping an underdog. However, if she feels that someone is trying to take advantage of her, she will let that person know that they crossed a line. Many have found that it is best not to anger Lilu. Life is much easier if you try to stay on Lilu's good side.

Her heart melts when she sees a kid or an animal. Innocent beings need to be protected and sheltered. She will give the shirt on her back for someone who is truly deserving. Yet, she has no patience for bums who are healthy to pull their load, yet choose to beg or opt for a live of crime.

Skills: Her mother taught her much about Medicine and so Lilu is quite proficient in the healing arts. She knows what plants have healing properties, but also which one can poison an unwary person.
In addition to that, she knows how to wield a knife with quick and sharp reflexes, or a spear for that matter.

Specialty: Her combat specialty is a stealthy ambush and a silent disposal of her opponent via a combat knife.

Weapons: Lilu always carries at least two combat knives and on longer missions, she will carry 10 Throwing Spears.

Armor: Lilu prefers light clothing to that of unwieldy armor. She likes to be able to move freely and blend in with her surroundings. She prefers sand-colored cargo pants, combat boots, a beige T-shirt and if necessary a flak-vest.

Clothes: When not in combat, Lilu loves to dress in colorful fabrics, since the desert appears rather drab after living here all her life. She had acquired a short emerald leather skirt and a leather vest of the same color from a truly gifted artisan in Tin Town. She also was able to talk him into making her a fine pair of brown sandals, which she wears with the outfit. She added her own touch to the clothing, by combing the ruins of Tin Town for small, metallic and plastic items that she had then shaped into beads and triangles, which she then attached via wonderglue to her vest.

When Lilu steps out into the sunshine with her outfit, she would dazzle the onlookers and every step would send jingles into the air.

Backstory/Bio:

Jane or Liluye was born on a rainy day in Tin Town (formerly Austin). Back then, it was nothing but rubble, a few factories and a collection of small huts.

A tradition in her family had been to hand down the story of their people from generation to generation, so that nobody would forget where they came from.

Her parents showed her a worn per-war book, in which they had recorded her birth. Through this book, Lilu was able to trace back her history and that of the proud Apache ancestors, which came before her. Names upon names filled the pages and it showed that once they had been a great nation. Now, only fragments remained. Lilu didn't even know if she was the last, but she knew that she would do her best to keep the traditions alive and to never forget where she came from.

As she grew, so did Tin Town. At first, only bad elements seemed to be drawn to this place, since they found various factories that had survived the Great War.

Her father, together with a group of people, began to revive these old factories. At first, they started small, producing what was needed, like clothing, lanterns, pots and pants. However, a large, organized group of weapons dealers soon strong armed their way into Tin Town and muscled her father and his partners out of the factory. At first, her father protested, but even he knew this was a fight he couldn't win. So, he made a deal with the new owners, the Wether Brothers, in exchange for the use of the factory, their mercenaries would help to re-build Tin Town and also serve as protection under his rule of law. He wanted to avoid more bad elements to enter the city.

Lilu's father had a dream to create a strong city, a safe haven from the wasteland, for all who seek one. The Wether Bros. agreed, because they saw that a peaceful city would be in their own interest. So, Lilu's father became the Marshall of Tin Town.

When Lilu turned 18, she had lived a sheltered life, since the town had become a haven, as her father had wished. It drew many great craftsmen and artisans and soon Tin Town could boast a large market place with the finest items on sale, one could only wish for.

One fateful evening, Lilu's world fell apart. Her father had taken her mother to visit the neighboring town of New Antonio, who was in its infant stage of rebuilding. A large group of raiders were coming up from the south and intercepted her parents. To this day, Lilu doesn't know if this was a planned ambush, or if her parents were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After a few years had past and Lilu just lived in a fog, from one day to another, holding various jobs in different factories, she heard about a new group: The Desert Rangers. News of their take over of Ft. Hood reached their town and suddenly Lilu felt new life surge through her veins. Here was a group that was intent to bring law and order to the wasteland. Here was a chance for her to fullfil her father's legacy, to restore his dream and make it her own, to honor her parent's memory.

Lilu packed her few belongings and traveled north to join the Rangers. She has been a part of the Desert Rangers for 8 years now.

Name: Riley Peterson
Rank:Private
Gender:Female
Age: 23
Race: Caucasian/Native American

Appearance & Physical Traits: Riley has full lips and the arched eyebrows of an old pinup girl. Her eyes are a deep shade of brown that isn't so attention grabbing but thoughtful looking, rather. She may appear intimidating at first but her eyes offer a very serene sense of calm. Her hair is a deep burgundy/red and reaches past her shoulders. Typically it falls in thick waves but she has it tied up Wendy The Welder style about 90% of the time to get it out of the way. Her body is a temple of sorts, her own personal comfort zone. She enjoys a good workout and is blessed with a flat stomach (girl abs ftw) and a distinct hourglass figure. She can thank genetics for her tiny waist. Aside from this her chest doesn't really get in the way, thankfully, and her skin is kissed by the sun. Some of this from her Native heritage and the other from all the time she spends outside in, well you know, the desert.

Personality: There isn't a whole tonne to say about Riley. She loves her alcohol strong and has a vibrant inviting personality. sixually, despite her walk and the way she handles her body, she is very reserved. She is here to work and do good for her father and brother. These men here will become her brothers and nothing more. She is a softie for Pre-War nostalgia and loves to sing. She has that badass persona going on but deep down she really is a down to earth person. She is eager to work and eager to learn. Most of her personality will be neutral. She isn't very opinionated and is always the in between, always apathetic about everything.

Skills: ( What is your character proficient in? Not just one word like " Speech ", describe them )
Riley is a smooth talker with a tongue like honey, always the persuasive one. Many of her skills must be refined with age. She is still young and will make mistakes. Out of the box skills include handling her alcohol, being able to move around stealthily (very light on her feet) and gathering intel. She is a bit of the assassin type, per se, doing things the quiet and clean way.

Specialty: ( In combat )
Her specialty lies in the rifle, her all time favorite weapon. However when enemies get close she can be quite skilled with a small blade.
Weapons:
Run of the mill Hunting rifle slung over the shoulder,
Combat Knife on her leg.
Armor: ( Feel free to make the armor your own, add little things like goggles around your character's neck, patches of cloth covering a hole if you'd like )
She wears her regular combat pants and boots (see below) except she'll we wearing a long sleeve shirt (Think Under Armor brand clothes) with a bullet proof vest her father gifted to her over top.

Clothes: ( Outside of combat ) Leisurely or in sneak mode she would normally wear a white wife beater top that's tied in a knot above the belly button with a pair of loose-ish combat pants (Loose at the top, tight towards the lower legs, ankle) tied under the hips. Wearing black smallish combat boots. Sometimes she'll wear an old black hoodie when it gets colder out. Whether in combat or not, she will typically have a pair of red tinted goggles either around her neck on on her head.

Backstory/Bio: ( I'd like this to be a little lengthy, but nothing massive needed )
Riley grew up in the abandoned ruins of the city. Her family mostly got by with scavenging and taking what they needed; and selling the rest. At least at first. She has an older brother, Gale, back home and her love life is sort of unknown. It's made to believe she has a lover back where she came from but she won't ever really indulge into detail. Her father was a sort of hero where they came from. There are all sorts of storied of his battle days and a pile of people always telling her about how successful he is. As a young girl she was always daddy's little girl and was taught from the beginning to be strong like a man, otherwise she wouldn't survive. Her mother had a soft soul. One that drifted and was light and airy. This is why she died. Riley never took it seriously as she figured optimistically, that almost everyone in this worlds looses someone they love at one point. She would rather instead learn from her mother's mistakes and be strong and grounded. Her brother was her hero for a long time and he inspired their father to move down into the sunny states where he could make a life for themselves. They opened a clinic and put his military training to good use. He tried to teach her things about health and healing but she refused to learn. Instead she would go out and train her body, and train her shot on the geckos. Her father helped many sick people that had been waiting a long time for help and he made a name for himself. Eventually when the caps came in, so did the better equipment. And eventually he was recognized as one of the best, most reliable doctors of the state. He just wanted to help people. And that, he did. Sooner or later Riley's brother ran off with a girl in a pretty sundress and got married somewhere, like it was nothing. She hadn't heard from him since and hated him for it. People were soft for love, and she refused to have any of it. A deep hatred grew from the abandonment she felt and in it she made the same mistake without realizing it. Though she has a lot to learn, she joined the Rangers with a hopeful attitude and an eager mind. This, right now, is the life she chose.

Character Sheet:

Name: The Dogman
Rank: Private (Though probably seen more as a civilian)
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Race: Caucasian

Appearance & Physical Traits: The Dogman is a slim, lightly built man, with wiry, sinewy muscle covering his body. His torso, arms and head bear the marks of a hard life, The ropey muscle of his left forearm is criss crossed with scar tissue and the rest of him is scarred from tribal duels and the like. His dark hair is long and greasy and hangs in scruffy clumps around his face and shoulders. His teeth have been sharpened to points.

Personality: This can vary greatly depending on how he feels towards the person he's interacting with. If he dislikes the person in question then he is caustic, sarcastic and aggressive. But if he likes or respects them then he will be loyal to the point of putting himself in near suicidal danger in order to protect them. While he is pretty uncivilized, he finds the concept of civilization fascinating and is obsessed with “doing the right thing”.

Skills: Years of surviving in the barren wastes have made The Dogman an expert survivalist. He is extremely good at hunting, able to track his prey for days at a time if necessary, following clues given by tracks, broken plants or even scent since he has an unnaturally acute sense of smell. While next to useless with firearms, The Dogman is a good shot with his bow and is proficient in close combat. He is also a very good trapper, with a good knowledge of where to place the traps. Many are the animals that have found themselves caught in a snare, or impaled at the bottom of a hidden pit lined with sharpened sticks. His most useful skill however is local knowledge, The Dogman knows a lot of the local tribes and settlements and is well known amongst their communities. He has frequented many of them over his years, either working as a scout, trading items he's scavenged or helping fight off raiders. It's known that The Dogman is a straight edge, and just having him there in his distinctive cloak will often put an otherwise hostile tribe at ease.

Specialty: Scout/Guide.

Weapons: Hand made longbow, two hand made knives. The knives are more prison shiv than combat knife.

Armor: The Dogman wears whatever he can scavenge. At the moment he has a battered, old leather chest plate with a rough fur cloak made from dog skins across his shoulders. His boots are different colors (taken from different corpses). He wears a quiver at his hip with his arrows protruding from the top. On his left hand he has a yellow, fingerless glove. While the right glove is black leather with the thumb and index fingers cut off. He also wears a ripped and faded pair of jeans. He has a thick leather belt wound around his left forearm to protect his skin from the bowstring.

Clothes: As above minus the chest plate and belt on his arm.