The streets were quiet as Sheriff White walked down the only road in and out of the little town of Claira, he wore a long beaten brown coat, along with old beaten boots that had been fixed more than they should have been. The sheriff decided to check out the saloon, but did'nt realize how full it was. The saloon was full of traders and out of work mercenaries that had either wandered into town, or had come to trade their junk. The saloon owner jesse, was busy running up and down the bar counter filling people drinks and taking orders, he was as old as the town, he had grey hair, at least what was left of his hair, he had a strange odor that seemed to follow him every where, whether he had just taken a bath or not the odor followed. The sheriff waved to annie, the waitress and jesse's daughter, who was also busy moving through the crowd serving drinks and taking orders. The sheriff sat at his usual seat, the seat closest to the door, where he could have easy access to get out incase something was happening outside, or could block someone's only route out of the bar.

Annie walked over to the sheriff as three drunk traders sitting in a nearby booth began to harass annie, "Why dont you come over here and sittttt on meeey lap babbbby...", the sheriff looked at the three traders a moment, then got up off his stool walking over to them, "I think you three have had enough tonight, dont you?", the traders looked at each other a moment before responding, "Well yoooou, dont know ussss, we can holll...", the trader fell face first onto the table top out cold. The sheriff looked at the other two sitting on either side, "I think you two should take your friend back home, before somthing happens", the traders looked at each other knoding, and pulled their friend over the table top, gradually stumbling out of the bar towards their room in the local motel.

The sheriff sat back down in his regular seat, finally able to order his drink, annie stood ready to take his order, "Annie give me a straight shot of canadian whiskey!", annie looked up at the sheriff with her twinkling eyes disapointed, "Sorry White, but we dont have anymore canadian whiskey, ran out about three days ago", the sheriff looked a little disapointed, but ordered another, "Then I'll have a beer, any kind will be fine by me", annie joted the order down, and walked behind counter grabbing a bottle of beer from the in-ground cooler. Annie handed the sheriff the beer as the sheriff handed her six caps.

As the night continued the sheriff gradually left scanning the bar which seemed almost deserted, "I'll see you later annie, have a good one jesse", the two waved as the sheriff walked out and headed to the jail house. As the sheriff walked in and placed his coat on the beaten coat hanger, a mysterious man sat with his feet up on the desk holding a pistol towards the sheriff. The sheriff knew not to try and draw his side-arm, because frankly he was'nt ready to die. The mysterious man motioned with his gun for the sheriff to take a seat. The sheriff obeyed and sat in his creaky old seat, "What do you want, who are you?", the mysterious man did'nt say a word, but handed the sheriff a a old piece of paper folded in half, the sheriff slowly grabbed the note, as the man still held his pistol towards the sheriff. A knock at the door spooked the sheriff, as he answered, "Who is it?", the voice from outside responded in a hysterical sound, "Sheriff White, three of my brahmin are dead, and two of my goat as well!", the sheriff looked at the man holding the pistol then returning his attencion back to the voice, "I cant help you right now george, I'm busy with reports and charges, come back later, I'll help you with it later", the voice quieted down in a dissapointed voice, "Yeah ok sheriff, you come around about six, marry will have supper ready and we can have something while we think of how to catch the perp!", george walked away, as the man quickly looked out the window turning his attencion back onto the sheriff. The sheriff looked down at his side-arm thinking of a way to get out of there, the man finally began to speak, but with a gruff dry voice, "I want you to go in their and get my men out of your cell, then we'll walk out of here, no problem... Ok!", the sheriff knoded, standing-up and grabbing the cell key from his coat pocket, the man with the gun had a thick beard with dark hair down to his shoulders, he wore a thin collared shirt with beaten tan khakis, and some what clean boots.

The mysterious man walked behind the sheriff, as he unlocked the cell door. two men stood-up standing at the door, as the sheriff opened the door slowly, "Alright you came and got us, we thought you'd never come", the sheriff and the men walked over to the evidence locker, which did'nt even have a lock on it, and the two men grabbed their belongings and looked at the man with the gun, "So where are the others?", the man motioned with his head that they were outside, when suddenly five shots rang out from the trading post across the street, the two men rushed to the window as they saw their friends run out, holding a bag of somthing, running out of town, "Holy ****, did you see that, lets get out of here!", the two men rushed to the door, as a gun shot suddenly cracked from the barrel of the mans pistol. The sheriff fell to the ground holding his right leg, as the man grabbed his side-arm, and ammo rushing out the door with the others.

Three months later

A man sits at the local bar drinking from his glass of absnthe, as the sheriff who know walks with a limp, sits next to him waving to annie who now runs the saloon, the man ignores the sheriff and continues to take sips of his absnthe, "I'll have a beer annie", annie knodes with a smile as she walks over to the cooler, throwing the beer over to him. The sheriff quickly grabs the beer, looking at annie with a sturn look on his face, before turning his attencion to the man. He looks over at the man still taking a sip from his glass, "You've been "looking" for those renegades for three months now, and all I've seen you do is sit in this bar, and order the same god forsaken drink over and over!", the man ignores the sheriff for a moment taking a swig from his glass, "I dont have anyone who can help me do I, all I have to go on, is a sheriff with a limp, and dirty old town people", the sheriff looks at the man with furry in his face, "Now you listen to me "Mercenary", I hired you, because you were the best out here in the wasteland, I used all the caps I had to pay you, and in return I've gotten nothing...", the man interupts the sheriff looking at him with a sturn face, "Get me a small crew, and maybe I'll go out there in the wasteland and find your three renegades!", the sheriff took a swig from his beer, and walked out of the saloon. Later he began to post flyers around town asking for people willing to help find some criminals.

Ok this is where your charcter will begin, you can walk into town, or hear about the job offer in some other settlement. The group will start out with about five characters including mine (The man at the bar, obviously), also their are no vaults in the area, so no one should have just walked out of a vault.

RULES

1. I'am the Boss, anything I say goes.

2. If you have a problem/Question send me a PM.

3. Only post things about what your character is doing, do NOT post somthing not related to the RP.

4. Keep all OOC's to a minimum.

5. No swearing, unless it calls for it.

6. No posting somthing bad about another player.

7. Try to have fun.

8. Send all Character Sheets to me before posting anything, once you've been accepted, you can post your character sheet.

9. You can have up to two characters under your power, but I may use them if your not on at the time, just to keep things moving.

Character Sheet Draft

Name-

Age-

Looks-

Clothes-

Weapons-

Bag-

Mental being-

Back Story-

Once you have all that, send me it. Also you may want to add what your character is doing when he enters the town or something like that

Name- Jacob Lee

Age- 32

Looks- long brown hair with a short thick beard, hazel eyes, 5'10, 190lbs.

Clothes- Wears a dirty Regulator coat (Which he found in the wasteland on a job), Grey under shirt, dark brown cargo pants, black beaten boots.

Weapons- Webley Mk 6 revolver (72 rounds), Lee Enfield Mk 3 (100 rounds), Combat Knife, Dynamite (6 sticks).

Bag- Pork n' Beans (6 cans), Purified Water (6 bottles), Psycho (2 syringes), Wanted Flyer.

Mental- Usually quiet when he's working unless he's working with a group. Not a man to judge others and will work with regulators or slavers, just as long as the caps keep coming in.

Back Story- Lived in the wasteland all his life. He grew up in an enviroment where he had to do both good and bad deeds to get by. His first job was working as a trade caravan guard, where he later grew to hate the profession, after the trader he worked for cheated him out of some caps, so decided to work as a free-lance mercenary.

The day was young, and the town was busy as usual, traders coming in and trading their goods, while others just walked in to get a break from the wasteland. Jacob Lee was known for his abilities to hunt people, its just that they did'nt know how he went along doing it. Jacob walked into the bar, after getting a good nights rest at the motel he was staying at, he ordered his regular drink, Absnthe, from annie and sat back and enjoyed the day. He layed his glass down on the counter as he reached in his pocket pulling out his wanted flyer for the five Renegades, "These men are armed and dangerous, use caution", jacob smirked at the flyer as he took a sip of absnthe. Below it also showed a sketch of the Renegades, the sketch did the Renegades no good, as jacob placed the flyer back in his pocket. Jacob finished his drink, and spotted another flyer, this one recruiting other mercs and wastelanders to join him during his job, jacob walked over to the flyer tearing it off the wall, "Report to the local saloon or jail house, look for a man with a regulator coat...", the flyer continued on about jacob and the job and also how much they would get paid. Jacob walked out of the saloon and walked around the town, and later back into the saloon, as people continued to trickled into town...

Name: Sandra Marcelline.

Age: 28.

Gender: Female.

Class: Trapper (Sniper/Explosives).

Karma: Bad.

Skills:
Explosives - 60.
Repair - 60.
Small Guns - 70.

Perks:
Gun Nut (Level 2).
Bloody Mess (Level 1).
Demolition Expert (Level 3).
Commando (Level 3).
Sniper (Level 3).
Law Bringer (Level 1).
Wired Reflexes.

General Appearance:
6'7, Raven Long Black Hair, Bright Green Eyes.

Clothing/Armour:
Head: Pre-War Yankee Baseball Cap
Eyes: Goggles
Shirt: Camouflaged Shirt
Coat: Camouflaged Stockman Coat
Pants: Camouflaged Pants
Gloves: Leather Gloves
Shoes: Leather Boots

Weapons:
Modified Scoped Sniper Rifle "The Hunter" (50 Rounds)
Modified Scoped .44 Magnum "The Ranger" (100 Rounds)
Poisoned Combat Knife "The Nihilist"

Bag:
Nuka Cola (2 Bottles), Water (5 Bottles), Blanco Mac & Cheese (3 Boxes), Stimpak (5 Syringes).

Biography/History:
Sold into a Raider Faction at the age of 6, was trained to repair the weapons and protect the camp while the raiders where out, with this job, she became quite skilled with a hunting rifle and trap laying, by age 14 she had become adept with using a scoped sniper rifle and laying mines to kill straying Brahmin and wastelanders that came to close to the camp, soon when the raider faction started to lose members Sandra saw her chance, and slew her masters in the night, from there she wandered the wastelands, taking jobs with little bighorn and associates, working for Lucas Simms or Colin Moriarty, untill she walked into Claira looking for some work, one fateful day..

Mental Description:
Unhinged, when pissed off can get violent, is very quiet, and is a loner, works with deadly efficiency, lives to win, to kill, to hunt.

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Night began to fall on the town of Claira, as a stranger walked through the shambled gates, she walked into the bar, and looked around, seeing nothing but low lives and drunks, she walked to the young lady taking orders and asked her "got any whiskey?" "uh no, sorry" replied the barkeeper, sandras face started to cringe, she snapped out of it and asked "Vodka?" "uh yea, 10 caps a bottle" Sandra slapped down 11 caps and said "hit me" as the woman behind the bar started to pour out some Vodka, Sandra looked around, she saw what looked like a regulator and a guy sitting at the door with a long brown beard, and a downed leg, she started to skull her vodka down as she looked around, she saw a notice for freelancers up on the wall, 'Report to the regulator in the saloon,' Sandra walked over to the guy in the regulator coat and said, "im in"...

Sheriff White looked at the woman, she was very tall, "If you mean the flyer, talk to that guy over there...", the sheriff pointed to jacob who was taking a swig of canadian whiskey, "If you have any question about the town, I'll be glad to help, but if your just interested in work then talk to him".

Jacob saw a woman talking to sheriff white, he did'nt pay much attension to her, he just continued to take swigs from his glass...

Name-
Ticker

Age-
23.

Looks-
5,6 hard to see the muscle build under the baggy clothing.
Bloodshot maroon eyes.

Clothes-
A strange hybrid between womens boots and combat boots, being almost all combat boots with comfort, stability and protection other than they rise to just below the knee and have a stange femanin look. Thick cotton trousers from under the boots, a plain black belt. Upper body is covered in a very baggy cotton army jacket with reinforced polymer armour plates. Leather gloves cover the hands, running up under the sleave of the baggy cotton jacket. A hood hangs far over Tickers head so in dim lit areas it is impossible to see Tickers face.

Weapons-
A Ripper and a flare gun.

Bag-
A kit backpack, US military insignia on the side of it.
Inside some frag grenades and some odds and ends Ticker has 'obtained' from the wasteland.

Mental being-
Tinker is seriosely not a person who you should play russian rullet with, acting out of instint and some psychotic syndrome probably developed from past trauma.

Back Story-
Ticker is a shady charicter does not ask about peoples past, and thus expects people to do the same.

==============

Reason in town, selling goods is a practical reason as to why Ticker might be in town... But to assume that is the only reason would be very silly indeed.
Ticker sits in the bar, at the back near a small crack in the wall... the draft keeps Ticker cool under all the clothes...
Not talking to anyone, not drinking, not moving... Listening and enjoying the luxuary of a seat, the simple pleasures in life.

Sandra began to walk to the guy the sheriff had pointed out, and then stopped, walked back to the sheriff and started asking questions, "how did you get that leg wound, trip on a bullet?" she said with a smirk, as the sheriff's face started to look slightly angrier, Sandra asked one more question, "Just tell me this, do you know anything about these 'renegades' other than the fact they broke out of your jailhouse, be wary Mr White, not all raiders are unorganized i should know..."

After that she walked off to the guy in the regulator coat.

Sheriff white did'nt respond to her leg wound question, but turned to her in a hostile way, "If you want information ask that man over there!", white pointed once more to jacob who was sitting at the other end of the bar counter taking swigs of his whiskey.

Jacob saw the woman walking over to him, she sat next to him looking at him with a questionable look, he turned away for a moment taking a swig from his glass then returning his attencion to her, "Your not some wanna-be merc, or something are you, because if so you better walk away, and not bother me about the renegades...", jacob looked at the woman once more as she gave him one of those looks that you know they mean buisness, "Maybe I was wrong lets talk what do you want to know?"....

Name- Ronald Lawman A.K.A Doctor Lawman

Age-195

Karma: 0

Looks- Appears to be a brown, decaying ghoul. His eyes, once dark brown in color, has turned into a deep black, to a point to make people think that he only has a pupil for his eyes. The left side of his mouth reveals his yellow, decaying teeth and parts of his jaw bone, being that all the flesh has fallen off. Tuffs of black hair scatter on his head, nearly making him bald. He is about 5'6, weighs 96 lbs.

Clothes- A old, weathered leather trench coat he bought at a old general store in the Wastelands, black undershirt, blue jeans that have tears at the knee caps, brown damaged work shoes.

Weapons- A Scooped .44 Magnum (About 132 bullets), a scalpel (x1)

Bag- A Doctor's bag, having medkits (x3), Stimpacks (x4), Stethoscope (x1), Med-X (x2), Jet (x1), Buffout (x2), bonesaw (x1), dirty water (x5), Can of beans (x2) and a Pip-Boy 2000

Mental being- Very bitter to talk to, and appears to grumpy of every situation he is in, either good or bad. He seems very mad about how he appears to others, and if anyone points it out, he starts to get defensive, and then starts to curse and yell at the person who insulted him for being a ghoul.

Back Story- Born in Vault 45, located in Arizona, Phoenix, just right after the bombs fell. About five years later, the vault door opens, mainly because the inhabitants wanted to not only interact with the outside world, but to trade for food, for the food dispenser broke down just a mouth before. Ronald grew up to be the Vault doctor and chemist, making drugs to trade the outside world for supplies and food. However, this all ended when a group of bandits roamed the Wastelands, and found their vault. Most were slaughtered; others were captured for torture, including Ronald. First he branded by a hot iron, then thrown into a crater that was filled with radiation, witch turned him into a ghoul by just a few weeks of imprisonment. Now a wander and outcast, he only helps those who have the caps and the tolerance of his 'condition

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Doctor Lawman entered the bar in the town that he just arrived in just twenty minutes ago, a small snarl appered on his face, despite the loss of flesh. He took a seat on a bar stool, right next to Sheriff White.
After he placed his Doctor's bag on the bar top surface, he beckond the bartender with a simple wave of his left hand. When she came, Doctor Lawman said bitter "A bottle of scotch.. Bitter scotch, toughest ya have.." His voice sounds grim and dry, like as if the turning of pages of a old book. The bartender did not respond, but gave him the bottle immedently.
The doctor put down a on the bar surface 12 caps, nearly making him broke, and he looked around, proccesing the area around him, drinking his scotch; humans, he concluded, surrounded him. Typical. He then looked at the Sheirff, and concluded that he was the man in charge of the town, mainly becuse of his apperance, and asked "Anything new in this small.." He hesitated for a while, gridding his teeth abit "..Town?"

Ticker had been eye balling the damn ghoul from under the hood since "it" entered. Freak....
Watching him walk around rotting and decaying, he was discusting, revolting.

Oh just forget "it", damn I could kill for a drink.

Jacob looked at the man sitting across the bar from him, he did'nt like the sight of the man all that much, but he continued on listening to the woman. Annie continued to serve drinks as she kind of lept back in sight of the ghoul, "Sorry, its just we dont get many ghouls around these parts, your the first one to come to Claira since I can remember, whats your name?", jacob saw that annie was talking to a ghoul, he did'nt really care, just cared about annies safety, the sheriff on the other hand did'nt take to ghouls like jacob did, and walked over to the ghoul, "You better not cause any problems ZOMBIE, or I'll peal your face from your head, but it seems radiation already got a jump on yah... You better not be looking for any hand-outs in this tow...", annie interupted sheriff white before he could finish, "Know listen here sheriff, this is my saloon and in here your not the sheriff your a customer, now leave my other patrons alone and get out!", annie smiled at the ghoul as the sheriff trudged off furiously.
"Sorry about him, he does'nt take to ghouls says your nothing but a curse, I dont think that though, but on a happier note, what can I get you?"...

Doctor Lawman nearly started to shout back at the 'Sheriff', the so called defender of this town, but was stopped by the bartender, Annie, just before he did. He looked as the sheriff walked away, noting the crippling posture of his right leg and limp, chuckled abit harshely, then looked to Annie "Erm, yes.. Doctor Lawman is my name, um, miss.. I'm really just looking for information.." He then looked at the other patrons again, this time noting someone one in a cowel, and despite the parton's face covered, could tell that the drinker wanted him dead... Again, typical, nothing new to the doctor. Then he looked to Annie again, and said "I'm lookin' for work around here, either defendin' somthing, or if ya need a doctor... Losin' caps like crazy.." He grid his teeth again, and his left hand touched his exposed, rotting teeth, and cringed abit.

The doctor knew he was ugly, so much so, that sometimes of the time he WISH he was dead, or hidden away in a abandoned vault, but for some god-forsaken reason, he keeps on trying to live, to survive, and to thrive.

And he hated it.

He started to tap the surface of the bar with his rotting fingers, just trying to settle in.

Sandra asked a few questions, such as what who where and why, she continued talking untill she realized Jacobs attention had shifted, she too looked over at the bar, and watched as the sheriff started to fight with an ugly son of a [censored] ghoul, Sandra sat back chuckling at the fighting that she thought was about to occur, sliding one hand over her handgun, and leaning back against the wall, she was loving the conflict, she knew if something was gonna happen, Jacob The Sheriff, the ghoul, the cloaked guy, and herself of course where going to get into a good old bar brawl, she had that ability, to sense who could fight and who couldn't she could see if a fight was gonna break out the moment someone moves their hand, it was a strange ability of hers, untill something unexpected happened, the little bartender stood up and told the sheriff off, she stood up for the ghoul, a kind of courtesy she didn't see much these days in the wasteland, as the sheriff walked out she eased her hand off her gun, and turned her attention back to Jacob.

"Any way, Jacob, what is this all about, caps, honour, revenge, or good old fashion murder?" said Sandra running her hands through her hair, and whistling for the barmaid to come and give her another bottle of vodka...

Jacob looked at the sandra as she sat back and watched what had happened, "The job is just that a job, apparently we get caps, but I would'nt totally exspect being payed by sheriff white sometimes he can jip you, but luckly he knows that if that ever happened it would be lights out, anyway the job is we hunt these renegades kill them, bring back some kind of belong showing that the job was done, then we get paid...", jacob takes a drink from his whiskey, "Its a real easy job, or so the sheriff says?"...

"I would say ' id trust him as far as i could throw him' but i could throw that sack of skin a lot further than id trust him" said Sandra as the barmaid came over and gave her another bottle, Sandra slipped her a couple of caps, and told her, "next time, let them fight, fights are always fun"

Sandra turned back to Jacob, "From past experience, i wouldn't trust that 'sheriff,' put it this way, Ive been jipped more times than i can count, but ill tell you this, none of them have got away... with their lives at least" said sandra with a chilling smirk on her face.

Jacob looked at sandra for a moment intrigued at her attitued, "I like how you think...", jacob takes another swig of whiskey shaking the glass in the air to annie for another, "Well I think that you'd be good enough for the job, and maybe we could get to know eachother a bit better!", jacob looked at her with a kind of flirty look.

Annie walked back over filling his drink, and looking at how jacob was looking at the rude woman...

Sandra put her hand out, and shook Jacobs hand, as she stood up, she towered over all of the bars patrons, and then she stretched her back out, becoming even taller.

The Dawn light started to come through the cracks in the bars walls, and some patrons started to shamble out of the bar, Sandra pulled down her goggles, adjusted her coat, sipped what was left of her third bottle of vodka. "Ill be seeing you tonight, Mr Lee" said Sandra as she began to walk out, when no one was looking, she swiped a half full bottle of whiskey from one of the patrons, no-one noticed, except for Jacob, she smirked as she knew no-one but him had seen her sordid act, and with that she started to sprint from the bar, and ran out of town, into the wastelands...

The day went by slow for jacob as the bar became quiet. Around noon, the only people in the bar was the masked man, ghoul, annie, and jacob. Jacob grew tired of the bar, and stepped outside to see that the town was as quiet as the bar was. Jacob walked over to the jail house looking into the window spotting the sheriff with his feet up, taking a nap. Jacob knocked on the window surprising white, who fell off of his chair onto the floor with a lound thump, jacob walked off chuckling, as he usually did'nt laugh hysterically.

Jacob walked out of the town looking into the wasteland, There aint nothing to do here, at least not now, he spotted a mole rat in the distance running into some kind of hole... Jacob walked back into the bar asking for another drink of whiskey, Damn this town is as dead as those renegades.

The night finally came, as sandra came back to the bar, jacob waved her over to a small booth on the farside of the saloon...

OCC: Lunch times over, got to go back to work, be back on in another four hours or so.

Ticker no longer needed to watch the ghoul. The commotion he was creating just by walking through that door told Tinker exactly where he was and what he was doing just by the complaints and protest of disgust.
The sheriff: another bigot with a great sense of self-importance and a gun.
The bar owner seemed all right though, Jacob? At least he seemed like he run the place.

Damn ghoul, at least he isn't one of those, "proud to be ghoul" type though

Ticker sat all night on that chair? Not drinking or moving, time was no longer precious to Ticker. Bars where better these days, before they used to be a throwing out time. Not in the new world, every single man is capable of killing and so pointless conflicts are mostly avoided.

Ticker rose with the sun, interested in finding out about Jacobs job. Leaving the door to the bar, Tinker slipped what looked like a hockey mask.

Light finds its way under all hoods, best cover up eigh? Now where will I find Jacob?

Sandra squinted from her seat next to Jacobs, with her feet up on the bar, and her baseball cap over her eyes, she watched as the cloaked man slid on a mask, and started to walk over towards them, knowing that he was there for Jacob, she pretended to sleep, she waited for the man to come over, or at least she thought it was a man, what secrets could lay hidden under that mask and hood, for all she knew the cloaked man could be a ghoul.

as he came closer, she slid her hand over her gun, she always felt safer with her hand on a trigger.

A fragile voice spoke.

"Those who hide from everyone, see everything." he began.
"I have come to speak and people, people clenching guns tend not to listen. I know you wonder why I hide, life is easier when unimportant people only know what is important for them to know. If I am being too forward I am sorry but I heard you have a job you need doing and I have some time to kill*"

OOC (*PUN INTENDED)

Ticker pulled a chair over to the bar, sat and waited for a responce.
Fiddling in his kit bag, inside could be seen; a combat helmet with a white star on it, rations, meds, doctors bag...
He pulled out a bottle of wine, although the label had fallen a date had been written on it in marker.

"Port? 1804... It was a good year, very sweet." he smiled,
"Probably wont ever get any vintage **** like this again in your life..."

Ticker poured them both a (VERY) small glass each...
"Its the quality not the quantity, and its my last bottle so... Appreciate it."

"no offense, its just a habit of mine, don't trust those that don't trust themselves" said Sandra as she slipped her baseball cap up, off her face, she pulled back as the light hit her eyes, "why the mask Mr Bojangles?" sandra said with a smirk as she started to sip some of the port...

"As I said before, life is easier when unimportant people only know what is important for them to know."
Ticker placed both hands on the table now, assuming that Jacob was still thinking about the offer. Speaking very slowly in the fragile voice Ticker continues to speak.
"My mask is just the same as your tough act, we both show what we want people to see or in my case hide what we do not want them to see. It places me at a distance from life, allows me to pretend my whole life is all just one big nightmare..."

A note of enthusiasm fills Tickers voice...
"Enough with the sad stuff, the names Ticker dont ask why I cant remember." Movement of the mask indicates Ticker is smiling "I tell ya what if Jacob allows me to come along on this job and we make it out alive I 'might' tell you why I wear my mask"

God I hope he says yes,
...He doesnt even have to pay me...
Hell... Ill play him,
I need something to do...

God this girl is nice,
Legs, bum, briasts
To say she has probably been in a few scuffs...
Ahh forget it I wont ever have that ever again...

OCC: Just woke-up in the night, decided to check out my Rp

Jacob looked at the man with the mask, "So your names "Ticker", thats a funny name, you may even say that its ironic. But before you can be hired onto the job, I need to see your face. There will be no secrets in this group face wise", jacob looked at sandra a moment realizing that "Ticker" was checking her out, he knew what he was looking at, nice curves, but one thing that jacob liked the most was her attituded to situations...

OCC: Going back to bed.

Ticker raised his head. the light hit the mask.
It was a full face White mask, with just two holes for eyes.

Jacobs eyes where drawn into Tickers.
In Tickers eyes, all he could see was pain...
Tickers pupils where a Maroon colour, like clotted blood circles, lightning jagged bloodshot lines of red erupting from the dark red pupil and blood specs could be seen randomly dotting Tickers eyes.

"I dont have a face... Unless its necessary, this mask stays on... Now im offering to help you for no pay, a free gun slinger." Ticker pushed the chair back. ".. Gonna turn me down?"

Character Sheet Draft

Name-Tyrell Sands

Age- 34

Looks- 6'3 215 long dreads and a scruffy medium sized beard

Clothes- An old Duster , a head wrap a pair of combat boots and baggy black pants

Weapons-hunting rifle and a 10 mm

Bag- purified water(2) pork and beans (1) and bubble gum (8)

Mental being- Keeps to himself a polite guy unless pissed of easy to get along with. Used to roll with raiders but well they made him mad and now he does odd jobs

Back Story-Being A raider mostly erased his memory all he can remember is very early child hood and thats not important.
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Tyrell walked into the saloon and saw other men, and women, sitiing at the bar so he walked over to the end and took a seat. Tyrell ordered a beer and looked at the man who seemed to be in charge of every thing. "So where do i sign up for this job." To Tyrell he did what ever seemed to pay the most and he was here to work.