NAME: Thomas Donovan Capsworth – Tommy to his friends and associates(Usually rival club owners who have known him for a while and have gained his respect)– Mr. Capsworth to everyone else. Spider-Fingers to those with a death wish.

FACTION: Independent - He'll deal as an information broker, arms dealer and go to man for both sides. He doesn't care who ends up in charge, so long as he gets the best deal he can get from it.

AGE: 43
GENDER: Male
RESIDENCE: Errera Club
OCCUPATION: Club Owner

WEAPONS: An M1911 Pistol in one pocket and a Stiletto in the other. Two Knives sown into either tails of his jacket should he be captured,and very, very rarely, when walking to another tower or outside of his club, a Protector Palm Pistol. And when really wanting to make an impression, a Thompson Sub-Machine Gun with a drum magazine.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Thomas is a relatively tall man at 5ft 11inches. Tall, slightly gaunt, his hands are slightly longer than most. Addressing him personally by his nickname “Spider-Fingers” is likely to result in a body being thrown from the top of his Club into the rift, though if you’re important, you’ll probably just be let off, with someone close to you being thrown off of the club instead. A man more paler than most, he spends most of his club-running time inside, overlooking his club from up high through the bulletproof glass of his office windows. A sly smile on his face that tugs slightly to the right now and then, one hand on the railing, the other behind his back, rubbing his fingers in anticipation of the profits that will roll in, at other times, with a cigar and a glass of whiskey in hand.

With calm hazel eyes will he watch everyone. Eyes shifting slightly, sometimes catching at the reflection of his face in the mirror. A Long scar down the right hand side of face, from hairline and the far side of his cheek down to his jawbone. A sharp nose which he often sniffs through, taking deep sniffs of the air, as if smelling the money rolling in. Dark Brown hair with a streak of grey on the right hand side from where his scar ends, all the way back to the back of his neck where the hairline ends on that side. His hair is neatly combed, it looks like this.

Thomas wears a three piece suit, the waistcoat of the three piece suit being swapped for a Bulletproof vest when outside of his club. His trousers and tail coat are black. He wears black leather oxford shoes, black socks, a long-sleeved white dress shirt, a silver pocket watch and a purple tie. Outside of his club, he’ll wear a fedora, a black trench coat and black leather gloves. However, other than that, he only wears white tie.

PERSONALITY: Thomas is calm most of the time, speaking surely and confidently. He makes it a point to never be lower than someone when talking to them. He likes a laugh, though rarely makes a joke. When talking business however, he’ll drop his smile, raising it again when he thinks it suitable to do so, usually when making a deal that the other person couldn’t possibly refuse. He’s also paranoid, never going anywhere without at least four bodyguards, eight is his average.

HISTORY: Born in Low-Town, Thomas was given his middle name by his mother and his last name by his father, who upon seeing his son for the first time, Thomas being nine years old at this time, declared that:

“He ain’t worth a single [censored] cap.”

So, Thomas decided to take Capsworth as his last name. Working as a Courier boy, Thomas made his name as an expert deliverer of any package, so long as it wouldn’t kill him. Chems, Explosives, Ammo, or just expensive items, he took all of them and delivered them to the door step of the recipient. Before long, he grew tired of that avenue, as the only way to make even more from that job, was to take up assassination jobs, or make deliveries across the rift too Uptown. So, he began work as an accountant for the Errera Club, the namesake club of the building it resides within.

Eventually, he become the bosses right hand man, the brains behind the operation, his knowledge of the various passages and pathways throughout low-town helping him build up the club by making a cut from the delivery business, as well as thievery and whatnot. When the owner died, much to the chagrin of his son, the club owner left the club to Thomas. This started a short fight over the club, in which, travelling through the building, Thomas was jumped by his rival and given the scar he holds today. Enraged, Thomas and his men won the fight and dragging the rival, and the bodyguard who betrayed the route he was taking, up to the very top floor, pushed them off down onto the bridge in the middle of broad daylight during a market day, after tying them together. That day also kicked his paranoia up a few notches. Permanently.

Since then, Thomas has expanded his club to span multiple floors, some catering to the more high end customers, others to the more low end. Almost all vices are able to be satisfied within the walls of his club when requested. Some of the more strange ones take a little time, and only very few are unable, or refused, to be catered for. Whilst a single large and profitable club is all well and nice, Thomas looks with one eye to the other clubs of Low-town as opportunities to be taken over to remove competition, and with the other eye, gazes at the clubs of High Town with envy, and plans to one day have a club opened there.

NAME: Alex Traynor
FACTION: Independent -- He isn’t picky his world is big enough for everyone so long as he doesn’t have to worry about his family his brother Nick and mother Alice, he has been worried lately but not enough to choose a side.
AGE: 21
GENDER: Male
RESIDENCE: Apex, 25th floor
OCCUPATION: Courier/ former NCR trooper rank corporal

WEAPONS: His old service issue 308.cal rifle with hand tooled bolt, match trigger, walnut furniture, matte black 12x scope and OD green cloth shoulder strap. Next he has his service issue M92F pistol in standard black matte with extended mag. It sits in a black, hand-tooled leather holster made by his brother Nick. In addition he carries his service issue knife in a black leather quick holster worn at the small of his back.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: He is 5’10 tall 175lbs hazel eyes black hair, light skinned and tan. He isn’t the most pre-possessing man in the room. He has an average build and calm demeanor; he always examines the room with a fine eye for detail always looking for vantage points, exits and overlapping fields of fire. His primary concerns are the mail in his brown leather satchel its prompt delivery, his client, his pay and his family though not in that order.

He left the NCR after seeing action in the Mojave and the caravan routes throughout the NCR. He left after the end of the terms of his enlistment; he couldn’t stand the NCR’s vacillation in dealing with the 80’s and he couldn’t stand the inability to deal with the legion and protect the average people of the Mojave. When he left he was allowed to take his desert combat armor and modify it to remove the NCR badges from his armor and change the color to OD green and black. He wears over his armor a homemade camouflage net cape cut long so it hangs around his knees he also wears his black fitted baseball cap on his head that he rarely removes. His shoes are handmade black leather combat boots similar to his old service pair which wore out years ago.

PERSONALITY: He is somewhat of a loner given he sees much of the wasteland through the scope of his rifle. However, while he has few friends he can be considered overly protective of his friends and rarely ignores a call for aid or a trip to the bar to commiserate. His reputation as a courier is exemplary and he pays good caps to the owner of the Spire for a private floor. He rarely worries over the local gangs as he has put down like “dogs” the last three to have threatened his family in Apex.

HISTORY: He moved his entire family to dog city in the hope that it might be simpler to live without involvement in the NCR or legion. So far it has been good for him carrying discreet packages between levels and rarely caring for who and what simply asking that he get paid proportionately to the risk involved. So far, he hasn’t lost a single package owing to hard won experiences in the Mojave and skilled marksmanship.

--LOADING DOSSIER - CODENAME BASILISK--
--DOSSIER DETECTED--

NAME: Kigran Draconis
AGE: 27
GENDER: Male
FACTION: The Draconis Circle

RESIDENCE/OWNED PROPERTY

RESIDENCE: A well-kept penthouse overlooking the Glitz Circle.
OTHER PROPERTY OF NOTE: The Leviathan, a popular bar and gentlemen’s club in Double-Dog Palace. Various properties throughout Lowtown and a small apartment in Hightown however the apartment has not been accessed since its purchase roughly four months ago.

OCCUPATION: Suspected leader of the Draconis Circle

WEAPONS
[NOTE THAT NONE OF THIS INFO IS VERIFIED THROUGH POLICE DATABASES]

PRIMARY: He has been noted to carry a http://www.forgottenweapons.com/burgess-folding-shotgun/ as his primary weapon.
SECONDARIES: Has been known to use a http://www.forgottenweapons.com/submachine-guns/erma-mgd-pm9/ with a folding stock. In addition he uses a nickel platedhttp://luger.gunboards.com/uploaded/bonsai/200612911524_luger.JPG. The Luger appears to be implicated in a number of mafia related hits, however no substantial evidence links Kigran to the scenes of the crime.

CLOTHING/ARMOR

CLOTHING: He wears a cream colored double briasted blazer with a bullet proof vest beneath it in addition to gray slacks and dress shoes.
ARMOR: He uses Riot Gear without an attached duster (think something akin to Joshua Graham’s Armor but thicker plating) when on hits and dangerous jobs.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5ft 10in
WEIGHT: 185
BODY TYPE: Slim with a small amount of muscle
HAIR: Dark brown hair that stops at http://media.charged.fm/media/file_4e3572e20f5c9.jpg
FACIAL HAIR: Slight stubble
TATTOOS: A small emerald dragon tattoo on his left hand
SCARS: Small scar located on the left section of his chin

PERSONALITY: Values respect and loyalty, show him disrespect or disloyalty and he will show you no mercy. Tends to be extremely polite but informal. Heavy smoker and does not handle stress well.

CRIMINAL RECORDS

ARRESTS
1 COUNT OF “Armed Robbery” [Served 3.75 months]
1 COUNT OF “Weapon distribution” [Acquitted after 1 day]

SUSPECTED
6 COUNTS OF “Murder”
4 COUNTS OF “Arson”
2 COUNTS OF “Fraud”
3 COUNTS OF “Attempted Murder”

---END OF DOSSIER---
---LOADING PERSONAL RECORDS - DRACONIS ESTATE---
---LOADED---

HISTORY: Kigran arrived in Dog City at 21 and immediately began establishing his Circle, he carved his way through small gangs, the hubris of man that dared to question the Draconis authority. However life was not this simple, before arriving in Dog City he had been a contract killer throughout the state. Killing Legionary forces eventually lead to enslavement, he spent 7 years in captivity only able to escape by mercy killing his brother and using his death as a distraction. Following his escape he headed to Dog City, a haven for crime and an opportunity to acquire wealth. The next six years saw the growth of the Draconis Circle from a small gang in Brookston to a powerful force in and around the Glitz Circle with a few operations even occurring in Hightown.

His operation had started by getting inmates to respect him either through diplomacy or the sudden violence that occurred in the shadows of his enemies. After his release his reputation had been established. He then moved through Lowtown, recruiting a small group of gangsters and mercenaries. Slowly he moved towards Hightown, culminating in what is often referred to as “the Hotel Takeover.” He and his crew moved through the Lutz Hotel, killing all of the gang that resided there. Rather than do what the previous tenants had done with the place and use it as a gang base he simply sold it for cash to a merchant in Hightown, only keeping a suite for himself as a residence. This was a year ago and his operation is growing in scale, it is powerful and it has proven to cause a tremendous risk to any who oppose him.

NAME: Milton Hill
AGE: 31
GENDER: Male
FACTION: Independent
RESIDENCE: The Aventine Hotel - Penthouse / Small Apartment in Brookston
OCCUPATION: Dog City's Minister of Culture / Bomb Maker
WEAPONS: .38 Snub-Nosed Revolver

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Around 5’ 10” with blonde hair kept neatly trimmed and a clean shaven face. His body has a slightly athletic build but slighlt overweight from a diet of expensive food and drink.

As Minister of Culture Milton’s wardrobe has to be on par with his position, as such he wears only finely tailored suits and various dress shirts with khaki slacks. His father’s shops keep his wardrobe updated to keep with the current styles and he almost never wears the same outfit twice.

His body is slightly modified with implants, some in his hands to help with quick movements and two in his eyes as an alternative to glasses.

PERSONALITY: Eccentric to say the least, Milton is infatuated with paintings and other Pre-War artwork, his penthouse at The Aventine is filled with pieces of Pre-War beauty scavenged from the lower city's museums and art galleries. Scavenging the lower city isn't exactly legal but Milton has enough funds and political power to put bribes in the right pockets and to keep new pieces of artwork regularly arriving at his door.

His personality has two sides however, either due to some un-diagnosed mental disorder or just his strange self, Milton disappears on extended "vacations" a few days each month. The general public opinion is that he's either shacked up in his penthouse or enjoying an extended stay at The Nautica House, these are far from the truth however. In reality Milton is an apartment at the Brookston in Lowtown, making bombs to sell to either private individuals or to arm members of The Dog Syndicate. He doesn't do it out of devotion to either side, he couldn't care less about the conflict between the two. For him it's an escape, a way to get away from his current life and live another, almost how his art allows him to go to other places, other times.

HISTORY: Milton’s familty had long been a member of Dog City’s high society, although they had never resided there. Milton was born and raised in the family estate in rural Colorado, an old Ski-Lodge near the Rocky Mountains. One of Milton’s ancestors had purchased the land near the height of the Resource Wars and renovated the place, having a well-stocked bomb shelter built in the process. The walled compound had been Milton’s only world until when he was about 15 or so when he went with his father on a business trip to Dog City, his father owned a string of fine clothing stores in Hightown and would make regular visits to Dog City Trades, he was actually one of the first city businesmen to re-institute the stock market. His father’s resources and political ties allowed Milton to get a cushy position as Minister of Culture and a formal education but he wanted more, he wanted something different. That’s what led him to his second profesion as a bomb maker in Lowtown, he had always lived the finer side of live and he wanted to see things from the other side.

NAME: James “Ash” Ashwood
AGE: 25
GENDER: Male
FACTION: The Draconis Circle
RESIDENCE: Small one-bedroom apartment above The Leviathan Nightclub
OCCUPATION: Suspected member of the Draconis Circle

WEAPONS

PRIMARY: A 45. Auto submachine "Tommy" gun with drum magazine.
SECONDARIES: Remington 870 with sawed off barrel and stock and an black m1911 Pistol

OUTFITS

CLOTHING: A Tan colored vest worn with a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dirty white tie. Matching Tan dress pants, brown boots and a shoulder pistol holster.
ARMOUR: when on dangerous Job James put on a bulletproof vest and knee pads. He also switches out his Vest outfit for a pair of dirty blue jeans and black leather jacket with a black t-shirt worn underneath, allowing him to blend in common workers…

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
HEIGHT: 6ft 1in
WEIGHT: 200
BODY TYPE: medium with some muscle
HAIR: buzz cut black hair (think Shepard from ME haircut)
FACIAL HAIR: Slight stubble
TATTOOS: none
SCARS: a couple slash marks on his face, nothing notable noticeable.
PERSONALITY: Generally calm and mostly polite when with friends or employers. Not know to anger quickly but shows no mercy to those that do anger him.

CRIMINAL RECORDS
SUSPECTED:
8 COUNTS OF “Murder”
5 COUNTS OF “Robbery”
2 COUNTS OF “Breaking an Entry”


HISTORY:

James “Ash” ashwood was born in a small town north of legion controlled territory in 2265 but where it is or what James’s childhood is unknown to everyone but him.

Leaving his town at the age of 19 James drifted through Utah for the next several years, doing handyman jobs in each town he passed through but with legion actually controlling the roads there was little work for guards, breaking into an building wasn't worth the risk of a legion death and whilst he was good at fixing equipment most technology was banned or simply not used so not to provoke the legions...

After drifting for several years James eventually came to Dog city, needing work he joined up with an up and coming gang “The Draconis Circle” who needed someone who could pick locks for some raid on a local hotel during which he “found” and set of formal clothes he now wears. .

Impressed by the success of the gang James decided to stay and has spent the last year with the gang working as his crews Locksmith and most part tech expert. Over the last year he impressed the Boss and other high ups on several dangerous jobs such as vice presidents house robbery, where James single handedly robbed the K9 republic’s VP’s house and then defending the Leviathan nightclub from the Bollard twins gang, which he then later helped take out.

Recently one of the Circles’ captains, the DRAGOONS John Gotti died after falling out the window whilst having six with his mistress. Gotti had been a Good leader but had often made mistakes which cost the circle Money, it had only been that he'd personally saved Kirgan’s life that he'd wasn't replaced before his “Untimely and unfortunate” death

Rumors have been going around the gang that Kigran wants John to replace him, a promotion James is more than happy to receive.

NAME: Cohen A. Marx
AGE: 37
GENDER: Male
FACTION: The K9 Republic, officially, but despite his allegiance, he has retains dense ties with the Dog Syndicate movement for the sake of getting things done underhand.
RESIDENCE: The Aventine Hotel
OCCUPATION: Welton Delta Director of Expedition / Hightown Senator / Smuggler
WEAPONS: Cohen carries a 9mm submachine gun which is painted black, with silver decals that feature a baroque engraving. He keeps it holstered near his back, hidden underneath his clothing. He rarely ever uses it in public since he has an image to uphold. For that reason, he is seen in public toting an electrified power fist, which is also painted black, featuring similar silver baroque engravings to his gun.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Cohen is about 5ft 10in. He is rather slender, in a way that is almost aristocratic, while skin is quite pale and his hair very dark. Cohen's eyes are deep-set, with a light gray iris that makes him look quite calculating. He has sharp cheekbones and concave cheeks, giving him a very dramatic look. However, despite the drama of his anatomy, his pointed jawline gives him an officiated yet youthful visage. He wears a dark coat that comes down to his ankles and is tapered at the waist with its collar flared. Beneath that, he sports a bright white shirt with a perfectly straight tie.
PERSONALITY: Cohen Marx, despite his philanthropic and altruistic mien, is really only interested in himself. He is greedy and conniving, and believes in playing for the winning side, and as of 2290, he believes the winning side to be the rich of Hightown and the K9 Republic. He caters to the privileged, and is a closet hedonist despite the reverent image the public has of him. Marx is such a hedonist that he spends most of his free time at the Errera Club, when he isn't campaigning. If not, he soaks in the Nautica House. He is effervescently charming, and can convince really anyone to do his bidding. However, when he is angered, he can be highly dangerous, as his temper is often left unchecked and will stop at nothing to take out anyone in his way.

HISTORY: Cohen A. Marx was born and raised in Dog City when it was still under construction, and is the current proprietor of the Aventine Hotel. He was born to a couple of the city's original settlers, who first established the Aventine, and who made a fortune designing the bridges which now weave the city together. He spent the first half of his life getting to know the infrastructure of Dog City in its earliest stages, and was among the city's very first free-runners.

Cohen used his skills and his influence to establish the Welton Delta Runners, a band of people dedicated to exploring the Denver ruins. However, as the city began to organize, the value in his skills and his Runners shined to the early senators, and they soon became an organized unit, hired to go on expeditions into Denver. Cohen used his free-running ability to collect baubles such as snowglobes and artwork, things he has since come to cherish and sell at top dollar. Cohen himself knows the immense value of what lies in the ruins, but has also been quite wary of the danger the mongrels pose, developing many of the domestication techniques still used today by the now-massive Welton Delta company.

Cohen Marx soon saw the need to get involved in Dog City's politics when his parents were killed in a Dog Syndicate bombing when he was about 25 years old. It was the first of many to come, and has left the 40th to 60th floors of the Emporis tower inaccessible for many years. He does not take any of the mafia violence personally, but feels that the movement is not to his best interests. With his very possessive and greedy nature, Marx believes that the Denver ruins are his and his alone, with the Dog Syndicate Movement only serving as an opponent to his thriving Welton Delta company and an obstacle to his underground smuggling business.

NAME: Mike Reed
AGE: 27
GENDER: Male
FACTION: Independent
RESIDENCE: A Brookston slum hovel
OCCUPATION: Dog poacher, criminal scavenger and a petty thug
WEAPONS: An old silenced scoped hunting rifle, bowie knife.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cAacwmNKHfA/UnTGZaZcv1I/AAAAAAAAABs/uTD5nUFd2KE/s1600/raskolnikov_online-urok.ru_1.jpg (dark brown hair and hazel eyes), 5ft and 9in in height, not especially muscular but in a good shape. Reed has two missing fingers in his left hand, the ring and little finger, which he lost to a dog bite. For clothing Mike has a ragged but thick cloth coat with lots of pockets both visible and concealed that goes over an dirty white T-shirt. The sleeves have been wrapped in tanned dog furs to protect better against dog bites, same goes with the cargo pants, which have been padded with dog skins up to the crotch. Reed also has surprisingly good quality boots and fingerless leather gloves. He also has a light brown scarf which is either wrapped around his neck or concealing his lower face, which matches to his beaten up and dented combat helmet.

PERSONALITY: Greedy, selfish and ambitious, wanting nothing more than to climb from the poverty of Lowtown to the luxury of Hightown through any means necessary, be it by licking the K9 Republics "boots" or supporting the Dog Syndicate's plans or even by gathering enough funds by doing odds jobs for smaller groups.

HISTORY: Dog City born and raised, Mike Reed was introduced to the harsh Lowtown from the very start. Born as a son to a butcher father and a merchant mother, Mike did not get a very educated upbringing. What he learned however, was how to handle animals and their carcasses and the dirty game that was the way of life in Lowtown. He was trained to hunt and skin by his father, who wanted his son to supply his business with meat and hides and taught to haggle and cheat by his mother who did not want her son to fall victim to the malicious atmosphere of Lowtown.

This setting led Mike to become a poacher of dogs down below in the Rift, a territory which was officially controlled by the K9 Republic and its co-worker Welton Delta, whose runners where sanctioned in prowling the Rift. The danger of being gored by a horde of hounds or being killed or incarcerated by the authorities helped motivate Mike into becoming a good sneak and a wary traveler, which was also the reason why he acquired the silencer for his hunting rifle. As years rolled and Mikes father and mother both passed away, his father due to some sickness no one recognized in the poorly educated Lowtown and his mother in a violent robbery, Mike started to sell his poaching yield to Feral Furs, an underground dealership of dog furs and meat.

At times hunting became either too much of a risk or a low success trip, and Mike had to resort to other means of getting by, meaning that he either looted the ruins of Old Denver for anything that might fetch a profit or even mugged people in the darker alleys of Lowtown. One way or another, Mike collected enough for the necessary supplies and for fun, which would be drinking at the Leviathan, the popular bar in Lowtown, or finding himself a female escorts, or gambling. All in all, his current lifestyle angers him, as Mike doesn't like living in an unsure hand-to-mouth style, and wishes to escape the filthy Lowtown to the glamour of Hightown where, he believes, all would be right, and life easy.

Name: Vincente Romano
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Faction: The Family (Mafia) and the Dog Syndicate
Residence: Four Seas, though based in the Double-Dog Palace
Occupation: Crime-lord/mob-boss
Weapons: An old http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9c/Browning_HP_West_German_Police.jpg chambered in 9mm, with a polished nickel finish, and a silvery switchblade hidden inside his coat. His bodyguards carry http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/30/Lupara.jpg sawed-off shotguns, Grease Guns and http://www.imfdb.org/images/4/4a/DanishMadsenm50.jpg SMG's.
Clothes: Romano sports a stark white suit, a wicked contrast against the usual rusty drabness of places like Lowtown, however, his flashy dress fits in perfectly within Hightown. The suit is complete with a black tie, sitting above a crimson waistcoat, popping from the already impressive ensemble. Shining black dress shoes pop at the ground, while nary a hat touches his head.

Physical Appearance: Vincente (Vincent or Vinny) is a rather average sort in his build, standing at 5'9 and 187 pounds, he is far from a large man. His arms aren't monstrous enough to bend girders, nor are his legs those of a runner, though he does have a slight bit more muscle than some would expect. Midnight black hair rests upon his head, while not a stray hair is to be found upon his face, which he takes meticulous care to keep clean. However, one scar stretches down his cheek, a blemish he cannot undo. His eyes hold a piercing seriousness, a sort of look that speaks, yet demands attention. His dark green eyes seem to know things that they have no business knowing and they are full of passion. Vinny's lips often curl into a confident, suspicious smile, one that doesn't quite betray his true feelings.

Personality: Romano is vain, he places importance upon his place in society, his power, his prestige, his looks. He cares for himself and these things, all the while showcasing just how much of the world he holds in his hand. He dresses in a bitingly sharp manner, to awe and impress, to boast his affluence. Although, his former life of destitution and poverty is a constant shame he tries to hide and destroy, and so, he blinds others with his stature. Because of how his life began, he believes the world to owe him a debt. A debt he is willing to take by force, by blood. His temper is the stuff of legend and the path to it can be short. When speaking, he often plays games with whomever he's speaking to, smiling when he doesn't mean it or whenever he needs a moment to think. Should he hear something he doesn't like, he smiles wider, licks his teeth, flits his eyes. Then he snaps, cursing loudly and hurling objects from the table. He becomes wild and he exercises the power he holds as his men close in to restrain, while Romano himself delivers a beating or threats of a hideous death. His anger fluctuates and can sometimes overwhelm him, often leading to a very grisly end and cleanup for his men.

When conducting business, Vinny prefers to do it himself, even when taking out certain trash by pulling a trigger. He has no qualms against wrenching a gun from one of his men and ending things himself. The only sacred things to Romano are money, power, and family. He loves his younger brother more than anything in the world and will go to any lengths to protect him. His love of family circles into his way of dealing, as he will not take a vendetta to women and children. Feuds are between men and they are responsible, family is something to be left alone. If a man dies, his family is given reparation and is glad for it, as not every crime lord is so kind.

History: Vincente " Vinny " Romano came from almost nowhere. Being born to vagabonds with no home is hardly uncommon in the postwar world and he was no different. The only thing he took from his birth was his Italian blood His parents only lived until the boy reached his teens, from there, he was his own person, save for his younger brother, Alberto, aged 7. He scrounged, thieved, and survived, teaching Al the same. Soon enough Romano fell in with a gang, that gang took him under their torrid wing. Romano simply used them, learning what he could and as they passed into Legion territory, he sold the gang off to a slave-master, netting himself a small sum for the rather healthy group of males. Vinny justified this to his brother telling him how the strong outlive the weak, that those other men were weak and that all they could trust was family. So, Romano provided until they managed to find a home in a small town near the graveyard called Dog City, a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Vinny rented a meager room to live in and surveyed the town for ways to escape the poverty he found himself writhing in. He wanted a better life, he deserved it, he was strong, his brother was strong, they had the right. Vinny used what he learned with the gang of miscreants to break into the small gambling ring in the town, he swayed the odds in his favor. Some men were robbed outright, some with more muscle were simply dealt bad hands by dealers Vinny had 'befriended'. For years, the Romano brothers made their money off the of unfortunate, living a better life. But, Vinny didn't want to do okay, he wanted to break the bank, take the world by its throat. It all ended one day, though, when a roving band of mutated horrors swept through the small village. Luckily, the sentries had been paid to escort the brothers to greener pastures, however those were never seen.

The little militia abandoned the brothers soon after and they were left to their own devices. They wandered for days, only to stop, exhausted, at the gates of Dog City. Finding their way in, Vinny and Al marveled at the city sitting atop a carcass. Vinny would thrive here, he could tell from the look of it. He'd heard rumors of a city of pure gold, however he found a city whose streets were filled with feral hounds. Above, on the crisscrossing pathways, he found his own fortune. Trying his hand at the gambling rings, he found even greater success. Pockets were fatter here, he found. Not long after, Vinny broke into protection, hiring thugs to escort petty Lowtown officials around. Those men sometimes wound up thrown over a railing, left to the dogs, thanks to the right money in the right pockets. Vinny Romano's pockets. He'd then have his muscle intimidate the other petty officials into silence. With this leverage over the smaller guys, Romano broke into the chem trade and got a small circuit running. He slowly took over chunks of Lowtown and made his way up the ladder, creating a criminal empire all his own in Dog City. His allegiance went to the beaten down, simply because that's where the money was. They would throw out the weak government someday, he knew, and then true free-enterprise could reign. Extortion, smuggling contraband, skimming, giving out loans their clients could only repay in blood money, they'd even sell apartments to those who could not afford it, once they were bled dry of their money, they were cast out.

Years of this led to Romano becoming a crime kingpin, running almost all of Lowtown, and owning real estate in Hightown. These years have also seen his softer, morally-right brother Al lose more and more faith in Vinny's humanity. The two drifted, they spoke less and less, and now, the only interaction is Vinny providing for Al. The love seems lost. The weak government looks to be nearing its death throes as the poor look to start an uprising with the backing of the mafia, Romano's people. Vinny's one fear is losing all he has gained, returning to poverty once more, and turning out to be nothing. He is sure the poor will win, and the government will lose, and he supports those he thinks will prevail. After all, that's where his money is.

Alicia Maria Carter (AKA Alice. Callsign: Sparks)
Factions: K9 Republic, Dog City Enforcers, Greyhound One
Age: 29
Occupation: CO of Special Weapons and Tactics unit, 'Greyhound One'
Residence: Circe Suites
Faction: K-9, Greyhound One
Personality:
Alice is an intelligent, confident cocky and passionate woman. She enjoys discovery and learning, and is a strong supporter of government and justice.

She enjoys tinkering with Old World tech and bits and pieces in her spare time, or heading to the Errera club for a drink and some company. Dislikes bubblegum.
Alice has a Mentat addiction which she firmly states she can stop at any time. The chalky red pills boost her mental capacity and charisma when used, but make her lethargic and irritable when withdrawn.

Skills: Alice's skills lie best in the area of energy-based weaponry, leadership and mediation. She leads Greyhound One, a tight unit for either general policing or dealing with emergencies (with either lethal (if authorized) or non-lethal force).

Alice's weaponry consists of a Q-35 Matter-Modulator plasma rifle (purchased off a caravan) and standard police baton. On duty, various non-lethal (and some lethal) weaponry such as firearms with rubber bullets or beanbag rounds are available to her unit during a crisis.
Her standard uniform consists of SWAT body armour, tough steelcap boots and black fingerless gloves. She usually finishes this off with her trademark: A pair of dogtags stamped with "Tough [censored]" and black wraparound sunglasses with blue-mirrored polarized lenses.
As the leader of Greyhound One, she is equipped with a Pip-Boy 3000 repurposed for use in her role. Mapping, audio recording and radio comms, motion-sensor and medical monitoring tools are active.

Appearance:
(I such at describing appearances, so here's a picture of her in combat armour wielding a plasma rifle. Hairstyle is similar to F:NV's 'Wendy the Welder')
http://i.imgur.com/GIpK0RO.jpg

History:
Dog City born and raised, 29-year-old Alicia Carter knows the high-rise city like the back of her hand. Her fascination with Old World tech began at the age of 13 with a tattered old copy of Future Weapons Today and an improvised taser-glove she made out of a Microfusion cell, a switch taken from an old flashlight, some wires, and two needles. The zapper worked, although shocked both her and the assailant. A nearby police officer heard the racket and apprehended the kidnapper before either recovered. While the cop did not approve of a child (close enough) messing around with a makeshift weapon, he was impressed with her creativity, and it did protect her, so she got off with only a slap on the wrist.

This event gave the previously rebellious Alice a newfound respect for the authorities. This, among other reasons and events, would also later lead to her taking an interest in law enforcement.
At the age of nineteen Alice was walking the beat, and three years later was offered training for the Special Weapons and Tactics ("Greyhound") branch of the DCE. Seeking a challenge, she leapt at the chance.
Her determination and dedication lead to her rising, and she became the Commanding Officer of her unit during a restructure of the Greyhound branch four years later.
While some whisper that her father being one of the higher-ups helped, Alice earned the role mostly out of her own merit.
Her Mentat habit began at this point. The chalky red pills allow her to process situations and co-ordinate everyone more efficiently, although she could have been sufficient without it. Being a controlled substance, the chalky red pills are only legally available from K-9 approved vendors, and the sale of such substances is heavily regulated.

Her callsign, Sparks, references her affinity for energy weapons, and lightning-fast comebacks to the good-natured banter common in her unit.
Her Q-35 Matter Modulator is a one-of-a-kind prototype plasma rifle, developed before the war by REPCONN and purchased by Alice from a caravan.

NAME:
Jameson Orion to his fellow Hightown Residents and those that buy his horrific art.
The Reaper or Agent X to those that he opposes.
That Crazy Guy with the Dogs to his neighbors.

AGE:
32

GENDER:
Male

FACTION:
Independent

RESIDENCE:
Circe Suites

OCCUPATION:
Artist/Vigilante

WEAPONS:
When Jameson isn't playing vigilante he carries a trench knife and a 10 mm pistol. However, as the Reaper or Agent X, he uses a Sickle that he calls his scythe from his days in the Legion and a Ranger Sequoia looted from a Ranger Retiree whom he befriended.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

Physical Build:
Caesar's Legion drilled a strict exercise routine and diet into Jameson's mind that his stuck ever since; leaving Jameson with a build similar to an MMA fighter.

Height:
Jameson stands at 5' 11" but when he.wears his boots he stands at 6' 1".

Weight:
190 Lbs

Facial Appearance:
Jameson has a very punk look to him. He has hair that is jet black. His hair cut has a side of his head shaved completely but the other side has bangs that fall over his eye. He wears black lipstick and even eyeliner.

Clothing:
As Jameson he wears a black pull-over sweater and black skinny jeans. He doesn't care for dressing fancy like most Hightown residents, he just wants to remain unique.

As The Reaper or Agent X he wears a black Ranger duster along with his normal clothes underneath. A pair of black biker gloves cover his hands. He has a pair of steel-toed boots that raise his height another 2 inches. He also wears a Balaclava that he painted a skull on. He also wears the hood of his sweater up.

Tattoos:
On Jameson's chest he has the name of every mongrel that he trained and had fallen in combat. On his right forearm he has a saying, "Fortune Favors the Brave." He has a skull on the right side of his neck. On his left hand he has an X. On his shoulders he has wings that span down his back.

PERSONALITY:
Jameson has an outrageously large ego thinking himself holier than everyone. He also is far more friendly to dogs than he is to people. He also believes that since he is artist, he must be unique which is why he adopted the punk look. His drive for uniqueness comes from his days in the Legion. To them he was just like every other soldier, clad in armor and given a weapon and given orders. Back when he was just Orion he hated seeing the person right next to him looking the same as him. He would carve sayings into his armor or get tattoos just so he wouldn't be the same. He would be punished for insurrection, usually by public flogging. Even after that he continued his rebellious attitude. He had the choice of leaving or dying so he kept his best interests in mind instead of being a martyr.

When he made it into Dog City, a sense of Legion Order kicked into his mind. The Legion wouldn't have tolerated the crime and corruption in this city. A second personality based on justice and selflessness split from Jameson and became The Reaper.

HISTORY:
Jameson Orion, was born into the Legion and was only named Orion. He never knew his mother since she was just a brood mother and his father was a Praetorian. From age 7 to age 14 he was trained to be a soldier. He didn't have any interaction with his father because he was always busy guarding the Legate.

After his first raid at age 15, Orion realized how many men had fallen who weren't even recognized for their service. This is what drove Orion to want to stick out from his other comrades. After his first public flogging he was also punished by having to help train the mongrels.

When training the mongrels, he grew fond of them. He realized a dog's compassion outweighs that of a human's. He felt bad about raising these dogs to their deaths so he was given a new assignment. He was made a soldier again at age 18 and forced to fight alongside the dogs that he helped raise. One dog survived this battle, her name was Ella, and Orion brought her back to his Centurion's camp. His Centurion was not happy so the Centurion ordered Orion to execute the dog.

Orion brought the dog outside the camp and threw a ball for it to catch. The dog raced for the ball and Orion took aim. Ella turned around and stared at Orion. Orion fired a shot in the air, to try and delay the Legion, and ran off with the dog. He was now a deserter to the Legion and had no home.

He ran north hoping to escape without incident, but nobody escapes.the Legion that easily. Various assassins would try to track and kill Orion. He would either get lucky and evade them or use hit and run tactics on his enemies.

Enough of Orion's endeavors for a moment for we are about to learn about another character that is important in this tale. There was a woman named Haley Rodriguez, she was an Ex-NCR Ranger. We won't talk to much about her past but she was basically a dog trainer in the NCR. She retired from the Rangers without any drama. She wanted to move back in with her family in Dog City. To do that though, she had to move through Legion territory which was dangerous for any NCR trooper, let alone a woman.

Anyways, back to Orion. He finally was determined as dead by the Legion after about 3 years since his desertion. Orion had made it up to the Rockies and Ella was still alive with him. One day he was scavenging through an abandoned ski-lodge looking for anything to eat (even though he hated junk food). He heard rustling in a room down the hall from the kitchen. He pulled out his trench knife and crept down the hall, Ella right behind him. He jumped into the room to find another dog that began barking at him. He then felt a barrel pressed against his head and heard a click. A muffled voice told him to drop to his knees and slide his weapon to the dog named Locke. He kneeled and slid his knife to the dog and asked who his captor was. Silence was the response he got followed by a pistol whip that knocked him out cold.

He woke up bound on the floor and saw his captor towering over him. A woman's voice spoke, "I am getting sick of you Legionaries tracking me and trying to kill me. You should be glad I'm letting you live because I want you to go back to your superior and tell him that every man he sends will fail."

Orion chuckled and told her about how he was a deserter from the Legion and told her about his various escapades with Legion Assassins. He also told her the assassin squad's weaknesses as a gesture of friendliness. He explained that he is now just a man and his dog scavenging from day to day. She untied him but didn't give him his weapons back. She offered a proprosal of trust, accompany her on the way to Dog City or she kills him now. The choice was clear for Orion.

The two got to know each other for the next year on their trek to Dog City and realized they had a lot in common besides who they formerly worked for. Their dogs even mated and had a litter (this somewhat delayed their trip) where only one puppy survived. They named the puppy Aries and brought him along the trip.

Eventually the two made it to Dog City where they split paths for about a year. He bought a home in Lowtown where he tried to form a new identity for himself. Orion realized the judgement he may face for being an Ex-Legionairre so he had to adopt a new name to fit in with society. He was drinking old whiskey when he saw the name Jameson, so he made that his name.

After about a year living in the crime-ridden streets of Dog City, Jameson.ran into his old friend Haley Rodriguez. The two began to talk about how much they hated "crime" in this lawless city. Jameson passed the idea of using Haley's family's wealth to try to start a campaign against crime. It was a good idea, but it failed miserably since her family was as corrupt as everyone else in Hightown. This upset the two and Jameson brought up the idea of becoming vigilantes themselves.

For the next few years they fought crime with one rule, no killing. The two would bring their three dogs to strike fear into people, making them think the feral dogs were getting into Dog City. They stopped petty thievery, arson, and usually loitering. They dreamed of taking on larger crime syndicates like the Draconis Circle but they didn't feel like they could, yet.

On October 16th, 2289, Haley and Jameson went to stop a case of armed robbery. There was a lack of information so the two were expecting one robber like usual. However, there was eight armed and armored thieves. They took down two thieves before Haley was shot right in the back of her head. Jameson saw this happen and something snapped in him. He broke their one rule and went on a rampage, taking the weapons of the two thieves and began shooting up the entire store. Every person inside the store was dead, except Jameson. He was dead in some aspects because now Jameson was just a mask of the monster hiding inside of him.

Haley left Jameson her home in Hightown. He also found her Ranger Duster and Ranger Sequoia which he claimed as his own. Sitting in Haley's home was a blank canvas and a palette of paint. Jameson sat down and began to try to put his feelings down in this painting and ended up making a twisted abomination of a painting. He went to throw it out but he was stopped by a resident in the Circe Suites. The man asked Jameson if he could buy that painting from him and that he would pay handsomely for it. This was the beginning of Jameson's dive into the arts and the birth of the Reaper.

He took his old machete from his days in the Legion and forged it into the shape of a sickle. He bought an old Balaclava and painted a skull on it. He put on Haley's Ranger Duster and went out, waiting for his first victim. He saw a man trying to rob a woman with a knife. He tackled the man and slashed an "X" into the man's chest. He took the man's knife and shoved it.into the man's stomach. He tore off the man's shirt to make sure that the X he had carved was visible to any that saw him. This began the legends of Agent X.

Jameson didn't want to endanger his dogs, but he still brought them with him for a fear factor. He still dreams of taking down the bigger crime syndicates but he can't do it alone. He needs to find someone he can mold into a hardened crime fighter to assist him. But who?

NAME: John "The Fox" McCullin
AGE: 32
GENDER: Male
FACTION: Independent
RESIDENCE: Brookston
OCCUPATION: Bounty Hunter
WEAPONS: an old katana and two six-shot revolvers

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Standing at around 5 foot, he is an average man that is in good physical condition. He wears a dirty trench coat over some body armor and cargo pants. He always has his Katana slung over his shoulder whenever he does not need it, and pistols holstered at his side. He wears a cowboy hat and a black bandanna covering his nose and mouth.

PERSONALITY: Doesn't show any sign of emotion on his face. He mostly doesn't care what happens to the city as long as he gets paid for his work.

HISTORY: Not many people had to live out on their own most of their life. Some including John found that it was not an easy life and most people wouldn't survive long without the shelter of a home or walls of a city. At 15 John's father almost killed him after getting drunk. John stole his Father's pistols and ran for the hills and never looked back. At age 18 John came across a small town where he would sit in the bar and gamble at poker tables and help with caravan runs. One day John's caravan got attacked by some local raiders and they killed his whole caravan leaving him for dead. John was in the middle of nowhere just surviving on chems and a little bit of food and water.

John eventually suffered from hallucinations and found himself chasing down an imaginary fox from within his mind. The fox led John to a shack in the middle of nowhere where he realized it was the hideout of the men that attacked him and left him for dead. John grabbed his two pistols and ran into the hideout guns blazing. He gunned down the members of the gang and had the leader begging for mercy. John noticed the sword hanging above the desk of the leader, John pulled down the sword and cut right through the leaders heart. John then burnt the hideout down and left only a sign reading "The Fox."

John or know only known as "The Fox" headed towards Dog City he heard rumors and thought it would be the best or only place to make a living. The Fox now spends his time sitting in the bar waiting for some helpless person come in with a contract that The Fox would be happily to complete....if the caps are good.

NAME: Krenshaw "Cringe-Jaw" Miller
AGE: 25
GENDER: Male
FACTION: Draconis Circle
RESIDENCE: A one room apartment in Brookston
OCCUPATION: Muscle-man/Enforcer, hired gun (currently unemployed but has heard of a hiring opportunity for the Draconis Circle)
WEAPONS: The http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhron05s1Ng, which he slings over his shoulder
http://www.imfdb.org/images/e/ef/K7SF.png which he wears in a holster on the small of his back
http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/kmYEw9zqzss/maxresdefault.jpg which he keeps sheathed on his left thigh
Brass Knuckles

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: 6'2, 195, and slimly built, he doesn't have the muscle of most men in his profession, but he makes up for it with his ruthless attitude and experience in hand-to-hand combat. He knows how to break a man down, and has had enough scuffles in his day to hold his own. Under his armor you can make out a dent on his shoulder from when it had been broken, as well as a multitude of scars -- stab wounds, bullet wounds, and bites -- littered throughout his arms and torso. His face however, remains spotless. [He looks like my avatar]. Bears a single tattoo on his back of a wolf howling in front of a moon.

He also wears Reinforced Leather for mobility, as he likes to be able to give chase if necessary.

PERSONALITY: Krenshaw holds the demeanor of that of a lone wolf, and works in many ways like the animal counter-part. He developed this complex when he found a pre-war book on wolves as a youth. At first it was innocent admiration, but after surviving the Legion's wrath and escaping from his hometown as a youth, it became a lifestyle. Now, after making a living going from city to city as a hired gun, his mind-state has devolved into that of a renegade, doing what he must to ensure his survival, and NEVER outting someone before himself.

However, he understands that wolfs hunt best in packs, and will remain loyal to those who have conjoining motives. Once your existence is no longer an asset to him, you once again become prey, just like the rest.

HISTORY: Krenshaw, was born in Colorado Springs, in a town that was home to family and friends. He was a pretty innocent child as far as growing up in a post-apocalyptic wasteland would allow. Around the age of ten or so he found an affinity for weapons, as well as reading. Soon he taught himself how to shoot and hunt, as well as studying on the ways of the wolf. Things went awry around the age of 16, when Caesar's Legion came and ransacked his town. He barely escaped with his life, but didn't have the time to find out what happened to his parents or anyone for that matter. Alone in the world with nothing but a pistol and knife, he made his way through Colorado with a bitter heart and a bloodlust for vengeance.

He lived as a huntsman for a while, alone in the world working off his own skills. It wasn't until 19 that he found a stable home in a small settlement close to Denver. Soon he found himself working as a hired gun, in order to make money for himself. At first it was hard, depressing work because he didn't know who he was sent to kill. After he took his first life though, the ethical line began to gray. He began to like the mental satisfaction that came with taking people's lives the way his was taken. Over time all the innocence and good that was in him as a child. He made himself enough money to ensure that he can always eat, and after all, survival was the only thing left on his mind.

The man knew he didn't want his name to follow him, so he gave himself an alias that he felt fitted his occupation; Cringe-Jaw. He invested in some high quality weapons and armor and honed his craft. He did all jobs from interrogations to executions, and always found himself in a rough crowd which led to him being so hostile at all times. He would live this lifestyle for the next few years, working and fighting and staying on the move, but he knew where he was headed. Over the years, he kept hearing word about an illustrious metropolis where the pay was as high as the danger. It sounded like his kind of city. Dog City.

He'd heard that it was rough out there, but then again, he was a wolf among dogs.