Welcome to Grayditch. by: thekettleison

The mid-morning calm inside Moriarty's Saloon was suddenly shattered as the bar's door was barged open and three men entered, dragging a fourth between them. The dragged man had a cloth bag over his head and his hands were bound behind his back. The prisoner struggled weakly against his bindings, mumbling from within the sack.

As one of the captors approached the bar, the other two threw the prisoner to the floor, causing a brief cry of pain.

Behind the bar Gob, the ghoul, was idly polishing glasses with a stained rag. He looked up as the man approached him, raising an eyebrow. "What can I get for you today boys?" He rasped at the guy.

"Shut the [censored] up you [censored] zombie. Go and get your boss for me. Tell him we captured Rennie."

The ghoul disappeared, heading through a curtained door. The prisoner tried to struggle upright, groaning in pain as the ropes chafed at the skin of the man's wrists. After a while, he managed to get to his knees."You sure that's him?" A voice issued from behind the curtain, the question obviously directed at the people in the bar. "You sure that's Rennie?" The curtain was pulled aside as Colin Moriarty stepped into the room.

"Yeah boss, that's him. We found him hiding in Girdreshade. A day later and he'd have been gone."

"Good work." Moriarty was now close enough to the bar to see the kneeling man over its surface. "Get that [censored] sack off his head you idiots."

The bag was roughly torn from the prisoner's head, causing another quiet cry of pain as the darkness of the sack was suddenly replaced by the sunlight coming in throught the windows. The kneeling man squinted as he tried to allow his eyes time to adjust to the brightness. Eventually his vision cleared and the man found himself face to face with Colin Moriarty.

"Hello Joe, what do you know?"

"Not a lot."

"Ha! Always the same answer." Moriarty turned back to the mercs and threw a pouch of caps at them.
"Take these and get out, I need a quiet word with Joe here."

Once the mercs had left, Moriarty walked round the bar and took a seat in one of the stools. He sat looking down at his prisoner for a while before speaking. "Where's my equipment, Joe?"

"I don't have it, boss."

"I know you don't have it Joe, there was too much for you to carry alone, that's why I sent five men with you. What happened to them?"

"The Brotherhood happened, Colin. We sprung the ambush exactly as planned, then they ambushed us. Everyone was just blown apart. I did what I could boss."

"You mean you turned and ran as fast as your legs could carry you?"

"Like I said. All I could do boss. They were in power armour after all. Don't think my ten mil is really up to the task."

"How could you afford passage west?"

"Wait boss... You don't...."

"Don't what? Think you've double crossed me Joe? I know what you are, so I'd wipe the innocent look off your face right now. You are a thief, that's why I use you. I never thought you were a stupid thief. But now I wonder.."

"Colin... I.."

"Maybe you didn't. Maybe you did. Usually suspicion would be enough for me to just have you shot. But I lost out on a lot of caps with that job. Caps that you are going to repay."

"What?" Joe looked around himself, confused. "Why do I owe you?"

"Because I don't [censored] trust you. You might have ripped me off and I'm down weapons, ammo, equipment and half pay for five guys. Either you repay it. Or you die in my pub, today."

"Don't really leave me a choice does it. What's the job?"

"Let's talk a bit more comfortably," Moriarty said, turning his head, "Harold," he yelled, "Untie him and get him up."

The curtain was pulled aside once again and a freakishly large man walked into the room clutching a knife. Joe flinched away from the man as he loomed over him. Despite what Moriarty had just told him, Joe wasn't so sure he did have the option to live through today. The huge man leant down and grabbed Joe under one arm and dragged him to his feet. Joe cried out again, this time in panic as the huge man spun him round and slashed at the ropes with the knife.

He gasped in relief as the pressure in his wrists suddenly disappeared. He fell into another stool, rubbing at the red areas where the ropes had chafed at his skin.

"Here Joe, look at this." Moriarty said, sliding a paper flyer to him.

"What is it?"

"It's a signed pardon from President [censored] Eden. Just read it you [censored]."

Joe picked up the paper and ran his eyes over it.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CAPITAL WASTELAND.

I, Colin Moriarty, am pleased to announce that I have recently acquired the abandoned settlement of Greyditch.
There are several exciting opportunities for skilled workers within this new community.
We need builders, masons, plumbers, carpenters and other tradesmen to rebuild the town.
There will also be positions for cooks, farm hands and shopkeepers.
In return for work you will receive food and accommodation, at greatly reduced cost.
If you are interested then please come to see me at my bar in Megaton, or report directly to the welcoming committee in Grayditch.

Beneath the text was an artist's impression of what the rebuilt town would look like.

Joe looked at Moriarty over the top of the paper. "What the [censored] does this have to do with me?"

"You're going to help run it."

"I'm what? I'm a thief Colin, what do I know about running a town? You're joking right?"

Moriarty leaned forward so he was looking Joe directly in the eye. "I'm not known for my sense of humor Joe. Of course you don't know how to run a town, you'll have help with that. You are to be my head of security."

"Security?"

"Yes. At times traders will pass through town and I'll need you to use your skills to aquire certain items from them. At other times I'll need you to keep the stock of certain traders secret from the town."

"Why?"

"Two reasons. Firstly, the stock will sometimes be slaves and slavery is a dirty business I'd rather not be associated with. Secondly, you'll do it because I've [censored] told you to."

"So who's my help?"

"Good question. Gob, go and fetch Celeste for me."

The ghoul nodded quickly before hurrying out of the door. Moriarty watched Gob leave, then turned back to Joe.

"Celeste?" Joe asked.

"My daughter."

"I didn't know you had children."

"Neither did I until last week. She's a nice enough girl, but she's a [censored] embarrassment. I don't need rumours of bastard children damaging the leverage I have worked so hard for. You're going to keep her out of sight for me Joe. She's going to help you run the town. One thing though, she doesn't know about what we just discussed, about the traders. You'll keep it that way. Oh, before I forget..... You aren't planning on slipping away from Greyditch in the night or anything like that are you?"

"Of course not Colin."

"That's what I thought, but your face seemed to think different. I'll be sending Harold here as your assistant too. At least that is what you will tell anyone who asks."

"Ok, so what's his real job."

"Ha, smart enough to smell a catch still then Joe? Harold here was a bargain, I bought him from paradise falls a few years ago. He follows his orders to the letter. Quite rare to find a slave as usefull as him. Harold, why don't you tell Joe what your orders are."

The huge, hulking man stared directly into Joe's eyes as he answered. "I am to keep an eye on him," He pointed at Joe as he said this, "and if he tries to rip you off, tries to flee or tries to tell anyone what is really going on I am to kill him."

"I do believe there is one more order." Moriarty frowned.

"Yes sir. If he tries it on with your daughter, I am to pin him down, cut his teabag off and then shoot him."

Moriarty laughed when Harold had finished speaking. "He's not got much by way of imagination. But loyalty..... Anyway, do you have any questions before my bastard arrives? Make it quick before the stupid cow gets here."

"Ummmm... Nothing I can really think of."

"Good, now here, have a drink. You look like you thought you were going to die. Ha!" Moriarty poured a shot glass of vodka and slid it along the bar to Joe. "That'll be two caps."

A short while later Gob returned, accompanied by a young freckled woman. The freckles were not the first thing about the woman that Joe noticed. But after Moriarty's threats, via Harold, Joe swiftly raised his eyes to the woman's face.

"Ah, and there she is." Moriarty exclaimed, jumping up from his stool and crossing the room to her. "Joe, allow me to introduce you to my daughter Celeste. Apple of my eye so she is. Greatest hope for me increasing my empire." He stopped talking to pull the girl into a brief embrace.

"Dad, stop," the young woman giggled, though her expression showed how much she was loving the attention from her father, "you're embarrassing me in front of your friends here."

"Your friends, you mean. Joe here will be your partner in our new business venture. He's also going to be head of security. Harold is his assistant. Well, since you're all here now, you may as well set off. The first new residents should arrive in the next few days."

Name: Joe Rennie

Age: 30

six: Male

Basic physical attributes: Short and slim, but toned. Sort of handsome, in a scruffy way. With short dark hair and dark eyes. Very quick on his feet.

Clothing/Armour: Simple bluejeans with an old, mostly still white, teeshirt. Battered old boots and a dark leather jacket. Will wear a combat armour vest if he has enough warning to change.

Occupation: Head of town security.

Weapons: Primary:10mm pistol. Secondary:Switchblade.

Faction: Moriarty

Personality: Privately Joe is selfish, self centered and manipulative. Joe will always take the option that poses the least threat to him personally. He will happily allow others to die in order to save his own skin. His public image couldn't be further from this. When he speaks, people get the impression that they are in the company of a genuinley warm and approachable guy. He is quick witted, which makes him a good liar.

While Joe is a good shot and a proficiant fighter, he will really only fight as a last option. Prefering to slip away, while others fight and unknowingly cover his retreat.

Backstory: Joe was born and raised in Rivit City, but was exiled from the settlement by the council when he was caught stealing weapons from Flack and Shrapnel. After this Joe turned to a life of (mostly) petty crime. Signing on with a travelling caravan, posing as a guard and then sneaking away in the night with a rucksack full of stock.

Stolen guns would be sold on to the slavers of paradise falls. Medical supplies to Doc Church in Megaton. Never enough in one place to get noticed, but more than enough to get by.

After a few years of this, Joe began to take on bigger and more dangerous missions. Once even sneaking into the GNR studios and stealing broadcasting equipment for Allistair Tenpenny.

Things went wrong for Joe after he was hired by Collin Moriarty. Moriarty had heard rumours that a caravan would be passing through the area, carrying a large shipment of pre-war surveilence equipment.

Joe was hired along with five other mercenaries. The plan was for the mercs to attack the caravan and draw the guards away, during the confusion Joe was to sneak in and steal the equipment.

The only problem was, Moriarty wasn't the only one to have heard the rumours. As the mercs broke cover to begin the attack, they ran straight into a squad of Brotherhood of steel. As the mercs and caravan guards alike were torn apart in a hail of laser fire. Joe fled.

He took refuge in Girdershade for a few days while he tried to arrange passage west, but before he could leave more mercs stormed the town. They captured Joe and dragged him back to Megaton.

It turned out that Moriarty was so keen to have the surveilence equipment that each of the mercs had recieved half payment up front. Moriarty is now forcing Joe to work off the money he lost out on.

And

Name: Harold.

Age: ??? Appears to be in his mid-thirties.

six: Male

Basic physical attributes: A hugely muscled, brutish looking man. Harold has cropped, black hair. Physically incredibly strong. Has a mass of scars on his forhead that resemble a roadmap.

Clothing/Armour: Black combat armour. Looks like the same armour as Talon company use.

Occupation: Publicly Harold is Joe's assistant. In reality he is Joe's handler.

Weapons: Primary: Chinese assault rifle. Secondary: Sawn-off shotgun.

Faction: Moriarty

Personality: Harold is unquestioningly loyal to Moriarty and will follow any order from him to the letter. He is addicted to Buffout, which he uses to maintain his massive stature and is prone to bouts of rage if suffering from withdrawel. He has no sense of remorse and will not hesitate to kill or torture if ordered to.

Backstory: Not much is known about Harold's past. He was purchased from paradise falls several years ago by Moriarty and has been quite instrumental in the rise of Colin's business empire since.

Name: Mirvin.


Age: 209


six: N/A though refers to itself as a man.


Basic physical appearance and attributes: Mirvin is a modified protectron. His standard weapons no longer work, so his right hand/claw has been replaced with a sawn-off shotgun. His faceplate has a bluish tinge to it.


Weapons and armour: Sawn-off winchester 12 guage shotgun. This weapon can only hold 2 shots at a time, but Mirvin has a mechenism fitted to his arm which reloads for him. This can hold 8 more shells. After this it takes him a while to reload as his left claw isn't dextrous enough to load the shells.


Personality: Mirvin tries to be one of the guys, trying to crack jokes and the like but his blank emotionless face and simulated voice tend to make others uneasy in his company. Mirvin is completely driven by the final comand his former owner gave him.


Occupation: Mirvin is a skilled mechanic, although this is limeted to cars and motorbikes, so this may be a fairly useless skill.
He is good at foraging for supplies and is a quick and keen learner.


Faction: Grayditch.

Backstory: Mirvin was programmed as an assistant mechanic and sold to a small workshop that restored old 20th century classic cars. The workshop was quite remote and was unaffected by the blasts when the bombs fell. Most of the human mechanics were at work when the bombs fell and the workshop served as their' home and fort in the following years.

The owner of the garage, a man named Frank Horn, was also present that day and survived the war. Initially Horn led the community that sprouted and Mirvin was sent out with foraging parties and quickly grew quite adept at picking through scrap and finding useful parts. The group mostly kept to themselves, avoiding contact with traders and scouts from other settlements.

Eventually the workshop was discovered by raiders. Mirvin's weaponry was destroyed in the ensuing attack and several of the former workers were killed. The raiders were eventualy driven off, but the survivors were furious. They blamed Horn, claimed that he had neglected to arm and equip them. They claimed that Horn's insructions to forage for food and mechanical equipment, along with his orders to avoid contact with outsiders were to blame for them being unprepared.

They claimed that if they had been insructed to gather weapons instead they may have been able to defend themselves. After the ensuing power struggle Horn was banished. As he was the company owner Mirvin accompanied Horn. Horn eventualy settled in an abandoned shack. Mirvin would venture out and forage food and supplies for the increasingly infirm old man and Horn would perform basic maintinance on him.

In the shack they had found a winchester shotgun and plenty of scrap metal. With this Horn constructed a rig that replaced Mirvin's hand. To this he added a loading device as Mirvin had difficulty reloading. This allowed Mirvin to defend himself if he ever ran into anything hostile while gathering supplies.

The two remained in the shack for a few years but eventually Horn died of old age. Before he died Horn told Mirvin to leave him and go into the wasteland. He was a little senile towards the end and sometimes forgot that Mirvin was a robot.
He told him "I gotta thank you for all you done for me Mirvin. You're a good man, but you can't do any more for me. I want to be alone for a while. You should go on, get out of here and make a life for yourself."

Mirvin simply stood there. "Where should I go?" he asked.

"Anywhere son, just away from here. Take the shells, ain't no use to me anyhow. You got your gun, so you can take care of yourself. Just get on and try to find other survivors. Settle down, be part of a community, that kind of thing. Just don't come back here."

As this was a direct order from his owner, Mirvin had to comply. He gathered up the shotgun shells and left the shack looking for a life of his own.

So far he has been searching for one hundred and ninety seven years.

Name: Celeste Brown On hiatus

Age: 24

six: Female

Basic physical attributes: Short, lean, but rather busty. She has short, wavy brown hair and green eyes. Cute, but not gorgeous. Freckled face and slightly crooked teeth.

Occupation: Diner owner/operator, and Welcoming Committee.

Weapons and armour: None. She wears thin sweaters, t-shirts, and tank tops with a denim skirt, and rabbit skin boots (reminiscent of Uggs in our modern universe).

Faction: Moriarty

Personality: Charismatic, outgoing, and a natural leader. She is outwardly friendly and makes friends easily. Celeste is not the brightest of the bunch, which leads her to become easily manipulated and generally oblivious.

She doesn't have very many other skills that don't involve talking or bartering, making her a perfect bar owner-hostess but essentially useless otherwise.

Backstory: Celeste's back story, like her demeanour, is very simple. She hails from Ronto, where she had spent her life, and has made her way to the Capital Wasteland after the death of her mother, Linda. She made her way to Megaton in search of her father, one Colin Moriarty, riding on the coattails of various bands of travellers. By the time she meets Moriarty, she is dead broke and is carrying a single valuable possession having had to barter the rest of her meagre things off for safe passage through the wastes – a tiny gold cross on a chain, a necklace once owned by her mother.

Moriarty, embarrassed that some illegitimate daughter of his has shown up on his doorstep two and a half decades later, has a reputation to uphold – he digs up and keeps dirt on the locals, and they behave. The thought of word getting out that he has some daughter who has come calling for favours just wouldn't do. He sends her off to Greyditch to help re-establish the settlement, having convinced her it is really an extension of the “family business”, under the guise of her being the one to help organize its reconstruction and resettlement. He makes her feel as though this is very important to him, and that she is the offspring he dreamt of with whom he could share the business, and she reluctantly agrees. He promises her she can return to Megaton to live once the settlement is up and running – which is at a time he will deem fit.


Name: Frieda

Age: Late 20's

six: Female

Basic physical attributes: At a glance, absolutely stunning. Tall, lean, and thick, waist-length yellow blonde hair. Grey eyes, and very pretty face – all features appear in perfect proportion and placement with the others. Athletic, though not really very strong, and definitely not stealthy.

Personality: Sweet, happy, and intelligent. Frieda is a genius of electronics and electrical configurations, and able to work under extreme stress. She gets along with others well enough but, in fact, does not work very well at all as part of a team – ironic considering her supposed military background.

Occupation: Electrician.

Weapons and armour: Enclave-issue plasma pistol, and a pocket knife. No special armour. Wears a flattering, though not tight-fitting, green t-shirt, khaki shorts, and black, capri-length leggings, with black, Enclave-issue combat boots, tied loosely or not at all. She carries a bag of electrician's tools, and occasionally will wear gloves.

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Frieda woke up one morning in the cockpit of a tiny, single-occupant, and crashed, flying vessel. The dashboard had a number of dials, symbols, and lights she didn't recognize, and she had no idea where it had come from, or where she had landed. Upon exiting the vehicle, she noticed she was wearing the uniform of an Enclave officer, and her name tag bore the single name “FRIEDA”. She sat next to the vehicle for a time, trying desperately to remember anything else about herself or her past. After a while she came to the conclusion that she must have stolen, or escaped, from the Enclave, lost her memory in the crash, and should find a way to disappear before they found her. She stripped off the uniform and fled with only the plasma pistol in hand. Frieda stole some clothing of the nearby corpse of a Wastelander and never returned to the crash site.

She discovered that while her conscious memory was absent, her muscle memory was strong, and incredible. Her hands seemed to work entirely on their own when it came to the use and maintenance of her weapon, and her level of athleticism was quite high – both things she could only assume came from military training. Eventually, she would also discover that she possessed extensive knowledge on all things electrical, from wiring, to circuit boards, and made her way from town to town using this knowledge for monetary advantage.

Frieda was spending time in Canterbury Commons, learning a bit about robotics and doing electrical jobs as they came up, when Moriarty's flyer came with Crazy Wolfgang's caravan. The idea of settling down in one place with guaranteed work appealed to her. After settling up with Uncle Roe, she set out, hoping for the best.

Name: Jimmy Leggio
Age: 42

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: (this should include at least one major weakness)Medium height and slim. Due to him getting on in years, Jimmy is not a great physical fighter. This is him all suited up and whatnot. (shut up, it's the best I could do)

Weapons and armour: (this is limited to Primary, Secondary, and sidearm, and one set of armour/equipment) Primary weapon: Golden .44 Magnum. Secondary: 10mm sub-machine gun. Wears a white Dirty pre-War businesswear

Personality: (must include some kind of flaw)Jimmy is a charismatic and seemingly nice, warm man. He welcomes everybody and doesn't seem to hold any prejudices or racism attitudes towards any type of person. He sees everybody as equal and doesn't care whom he harms. Jimmy is quite loyal to those he loves, mainly his wife Laura and daughter Lucille, and would do anything for them. In any other circumstance Jimmy would have no qualms betraying anybody for caps. He is a ruthless man, and when given the chance would show mercy to nobody except his family and a few close friends.

Occupation: Manager of the slaving business in Grayditch.

Faction: (either Moriarty – side with the crooked nature of the town's economy, or Grayditch – against hijacking and prefer to establish a more legit economy) Moriarity

Backstory: (be creative!) Jimmy originally came from Paradise Falls. He was enslaved at a young age and grew up there. Jimmy saw the amount of money capable of being made in the slave trade business, and despised the slavers at Paradise Falls for not exploiting this to it's fullest possibility, preferring to lead a life closely resembling that of a raider. At the age of seventeen Jimmy and another slave, Laura, escaped Paradise Falls and fled to Rivet City.

Once there Jimmy began taking careers in various jobs such as caravan guard. A slaver tracked him and Laura down to Rivet City and so they fled to the Temple of the Union. Jimmy lived among the slaves for a time, but soon grew tired of them. In a bid for his freedom Jimmy sold the slaves out to Paradise Falls. He then formed his own slaver organisation, Leggio and Associates. After years of gathering a small army, Leggio and Associates, who resided at the Temple of the Union, assaulted Paradise Falls and Jimmy, after killing Eulogy Jones, claimed Paradise Falls as his own. Leggio and Associates grew into a very wealthy faction.

Jimmy was propositioned to run the slaver trade in Greyditch. He accepted, leaving his right hand man, ex-Talon Company Al Luciano, in charge at Paradise Falls. His front for the selling of slaves is that of a fancy clothing store. The suits are provided by Moriarty and a clothes shop was chosen as it would not attract as much attention as a gun store, armour store etc. The slaves are hidden in the nearby metro and are constantly guarded by a variety of men supplied by Jimmy and Joe Rennie.

Name: Vict Orsino

Age: 24

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Vict is a white male, 5'8" and weighs 145 lbs. He's lean, almost all muscle, and is average looking. His hair is neck length, and is along the lines of a dirty strawberry blonde. He has a 5 o'clock shadow, facial hair wise. He is a fast runner, but not the strongest guy ever. He also has excellent eyesight, but his sense of smell is fading, and he is slightly hard of hearing. While not incredibly strong, he can hold his own in a fight though he prefers to stay peaceful.

Weapons and armour: Primary weapon is a hunting rifle, secondary is a hunting knife. Clothing consists of some khaki cargo pants, a pair of black combat boots, and a short sleeve, tight fitting black t-shirt. He wears a cowboy hat constantly, and carries a welding helmet, a pair of welding gloves, and a pair of arm warmers to protect his skin while welding.

Personality: When Vict is new to an area, he is usually pretty quiet. Once he warms up to people, though, he can be decently talkative. He really is shy, and he is usually pretty calm. Too much alcohol will make him break down, and causes the only situation where you will see him cry. He bottles up his emotions, but tries to let them out by exercising. He used to smoke, but has quit. If he's too stressed, though, he will smoke like a chimney. Other than that, he tries to be nice to all who cross his path.

Occupation: Metalworker (hence the extra apparel for welding)

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Vict learned how to work with metal from his father. That one skill would save his life one day. Vict's childhood was a relatively good one for a kid who lived in the wasteland. His town was well defended by mines, and like every other child in the town he was taught how to handle a gun when he turned 12. At the age of 15, this proved to be useful when the small community began coming under constant attack by raiders. One day, the raiders overwhelmed the town. Vict escaped with his hunting rifle and the clothes on his back.

He wandered the wasteland for what seemed like weeks, all the while heading towards the ruins in DC. He had heard of a city that was in a ship whenever he stopped to talk to traders roaming the wastes. He noticed many small pockets of civilization, but decided his skills would be most accepted at this Rivet City. Once he was in the DC ruins, Vict barely made it to the city alive after sneaking around patrols of mutants and the Brotherhood. He tried to avoid them, simply because their armor intimidated him. He had never encountered them before and didn't trust them. He finally made it to the city, and worked for years there.

While in Rivet City, Vict continued to practice with his rifle, and picked up hand-to-hand combat. Because he was constantly working on problems that Rivet City presented, Vict became very experienced in metalworking. His work was not always appreciated, however, and some of the other metalworkers felt as if he was making them look bad. Vict got tired of it, packed up what gear he could, and left. He had heard of a city that was starting up, and figured that it wouldn't hurt for them to have someone with his experience.

Name: Pawnee (on hiatus)
Age: 18
six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: 5’10. Lanky. Short brown hair, brown eyes. Tan skin. Large burn marks on both arms. Tattoo down the center of his back, tracing his spine, in a tribal design. Very good with guns, explosives, and setting traps. He can barely read and has little clue as to how to use most terminals.

Weapons and armour: Chinese Assault Rifle. 10mm. Two frag grenades. Three mines. Bouie knife. Merc Veteran armor and wasteland wanderer’s robes. Always travels with his dog, Buck.

Personality: Cocky, cold, and unpredictable. May insult others just to get a reaction. Overtly disrespectful to those in authority. Obsessive when it comes to his dog, Buck, and his possessions – always worried someone will steal them.

Occupation: Scavenger / wasteland hustler

Faction: Moriarty? More of an opportunist – will side with whichever side presents more personal opportunity.

Backstory:

Pawnee grew up in the backwoods of Virginia. His mother and father died when he was thirteen, and he spent the next three years scavenging the wasteland with his older brothers, Lakota and Cree. Both of Pawnee’s brother’s joined up with a band of raiders down in Norfolk, but Pawnee hated their leader, Chomper. Late one night, Pawnee killed Chomper as he slept. He then ran away from Norfolk and his brothers, slowly wandering north towards the capital wasteland.

Along the way, Pawnee found a puppy, who he named Buck. He has raised the scrappy golden retriever ever since.

Upon arriving in the capital wasteland, Pawnee settled in Big Town. For a while, he made a living scavenging from the wasteland and selling his scavenge to Big Town residents at lower prices than the caravans. Soon, he fell in love with a local girl name Bittercup, and the two of them were together for several months, until Bittercup went missing.

Pawnee has spent the past month on an extended scavenging run. While scavenging, he’s also been searching the wastes for Bittercup. He has decided to take a break in his search to follow a mysterious flier to the town of Greydicth in search of wealth, fame, and clues about what happened to his lost love.

Name: James Wilson

Age: 32

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: tall, slim with a medium build. Short brown hair and bright blue eyes. , Very charming recently broke his left arm (unable to two- handed weapons for a while)

Weapons: scoped hunting rifle, 44 magnum w/ detachable scope and switchblade

Armour: blue combat armour & helmet, and this suit: (http://fallout.wikia...rocker%27s_suit) with a matching cowboy hat (sheiff's hat) and Authority glasses.


Personality: speaks with a Texan accent, James is a very nice, warm and Friendly person, doesn't hold any prejudices or racism attitudes towards any type of person, always polite to women
While james is a good fighter he will rarely kills anyonebut will burtally kill anyone that betrays him , his friends.
Whilst James seems like a strong person he actually suffers from rhythm and conduction disorder heart condition causeing weeklong sickness, also Should James takes any type of drug (apart from stimpacks) there is a high chance of James suffering a heart attack that will kill


Occupation: weapons store (does not sell ammo)

Faction: Greyditch but friendly with anyone

Back-story: James was born in ruins of Huston to rancher family when he was 17 years old Caesar legion attack his family ranch burning everyone and everything.
For 3 long months James hunted and killed everyone involved in the burning and then travelled east near setting down any longer that a few months.

5 years later James arrived in rivet city and started a caravan selling weapons to the near by towns but was regularly attacked by slavers on one particular attack James freed a slave mute slave call sue that decided to stay with James as personal bodyguard and soon becoming friends

Despite of the increasing attacks on James’s caravan grew and became very successful until two days ago, Talon Company ambushed his caravan only sue and James, with a broke left arm survived. After the attack James decided it was time to settle down along with rumour about Greyditch was being rebuilt. James decided to head there, with Sue and the remaining of weapons stock and headed to Greyditch to open a store

-----------------------------------------------------
(sue- James bodyguard)

Name: Sue cooper
Age: 29

six: female

Basic physical attributes: tall, lean, long black hair and blue eyes. has a small scar under on her neck from knife fight 10 years ago.


Clothing/Armour: leather armour mk2 , sunglasses


Occupation: james bodyguard & nurse (when he is ill)

Weapons: Primary: combat shotgun & throwing knife
Faction: anyone james sides with

Personality: Sue is a mute , and doesn't do much apart from following james around protecting him for the scum of the wasteland and looking after him when he is ill. sees james as the brother she never had.

Backstory: Not much is known about Sues's past apart from that she became a mute 10 years ago in a knife fight in Rivet city
.After James freed her several years ago she has been his loyal bodyguard and friend keeping him safe ever since.

Name: Jessica “Jess” Wilson (Not Related to James , just took his Surname (Explained in Rp )

Age: 27

six: Female

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Jessica slight tan, short Blonde hair, around 5’6” tall and Blue eyes, Has Cuts and Scars all over her body from Talon company abuse

Weapons and armour: modified laser pistol ( the one James has right now), old 67 Vault doctor Lab coat & Jumpsuit (but is wearing Wasteland doctor for now)

Personality: Usually a kind and friendly person but freaks out when she is reminded/ has a flashback of time spent as Talon combat Slave doctor.

Occupation: Doctor/ Scientist / Tinker

Faction: who ever James sides with…

Backstory: James "sister" and Sue's girlfriend. Jessica grew up in vault 67 and was selected by the GOAT (and her father) to become the Vault Doctor, although she was a skilled doctor she prefer science and tinkering with Items

After a argument with her Father, Jessica left the vault and began wandering the wasteland until she met Sue and fell in love with her...

For a few years they lived as a happy couple in Rivet city until Sue was captured the Talon Company (but Freed a few days later by James)

Not having anywhere go (and Because James need a doctor for his Heart problem) Jessica along with Sue decided to join James, who was starting up his Caravan business and needed help.

Three years ago "Super mutants" attacked one of James’s caravan, Jessica was captured and was believed to be dead, yet Mysteriously ended up becoming a Doctor Slave for the Talon Company...

Name: Ryler North

Age: 18

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Caucasian. 5"8 in height, with a slender body build. Ryler has pale skin, despite roaming the wastes. He has an angular facial structure and pimply face, with deep set, intelligent blue eyes. Short, curly pale brown haired and clean shaven, a small, healed scar sits across his left cheek from where a feral dog scratched. His voice is suave, but breaks at certain pitches (for obvious reasons )

He has basic knowledge in medicine, intellectual (as in being able to read/write). He has never fired shots before in his life, or killed anything for that matter, let alone hurt a fly.

Weapons and armour: Ryler carries with him a
- 9mm pistol, with the initials E.N (Evan North, his [dead] father) carved on the bottom of the handle.
-Shiny, unused polished switch-blade.
-A machete with tick marks, scratches along the blade. It comes with a weathered, brown leather sheath attached to a black belt. It is not adehsive like it is in Fallout New Vegas.

Ryler wears:
-An olive bush jacket with a checkerd shirt under and a dirty, white T-shirt (there is NO Mona-Lisa face on it)
-Dirty cargo pants.
-An old, worn Pre-War tea towel to keep the dust out, that is wrapped around the his mouth and bridge of his nose
-Sunglasses
-And a dirty, beige cap.

With him, he carries one first-aid kit.

Personality: Ryler is a stubborn, youth and likes to be treated as an advlt, not a child. Ryler jumps to conclusions, often and has the attention span of a sparrow (unless he is determined or interested). Ryler will growl if ever interuppeted when doing something important, and brush you off. He is something of a perfectionist. Ryler is selfless, kind-hearted and compassionate. He has a sense between right and wrong.

Occupation: Medic

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Ryler was born to a safe community (Rivet City). His mother died from giving birth, and his father raised his only child with love. Ryler was taught by the scientist at Rivet City, gaining his intellect there. His father grew gravely sick of Leukemia when Ryler was 13 and died when he just turned 14. Ryler mourned his death for a long time. He took his father's pistol with him, but never used it. At 17 and a half, he and few other scientist went out into the field to study. The built a reasonable shack and lived there for the time being, studying the environment around them, wanting to change it without use of the GECK, but through science.

On his birthday, at age 18, Raiders well, raided the shack killing some of the people. Most were killed and the women [censored]. The forced the survivours to go down on their knees and produce chems, but the scientist protested they did not know how. With a fit of rage, a Raider fired his rifle into the head of one scientist and demanded. Survival instinct kicked into the last five surving scientist, fighting back. The used whatever they could. Beakers, flask....Hydrocolic acid. Everything they had. Ryler was determined to help, but his old friend stopped him from doing so, and told him to run. Ryler objected, protesting he would stay. Within a few minutes, raider and scientist lay dead, with him the only survivour. He was traumatised by the scene, shaken, then wept over the remains of those that cared for him. He scavenged the weapons of the dead, taking only the broad machete and switchbalde, then wondered outside, alone.

He has been travelling for two weeks, looking for civilisation. As he walked up a hill, he spots a little town in the far distance, known as Greyditch....

Name: Atarah "Zipporah" Dorcas

Age: 28

six: Female

Race: Caucasian

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Average build, reaching at 5'3. Despite being under the sun for so many years, her skin is pale, unlike many others. Her wavy, pale brown hair reaches her shoulders, her icy blue eyes are kind, and her smile soft showing a good pair of teeth. Her body is painted with ugly scars, all healed and white, a chemical burn, the size of the average man's palm is branded onto her left shoulder. A large scar runs from her back shoulder to her waist. Would be considered pretty of she weren't covered in grit and scars.

She is and all-rounder when it comes to combat; her offence is the best defence. She is quick on her feet. Due to years of drugs and human flesh, her body is prone to illness. Shakes occur randomly. Her reading and writing skills is that of a fifth grader.

Weapons and armour: Atarah carries with her a Scoped Hunting Rifle with the words, "Justice" etched on its side. She also holds a 44. Magnum with "Redemption" carved onto its side also. By Atarah's side is narrow knife, the handle is bound in red ox blood leather.

She wears a Merc Grunt outfit.

Personality: Atarah holds mercy with her tightly. She is charismatic; the sort of person you'd go to when feeling down. Atarah can be stubborn and aggresive. If she thinks of something she sticks to it, unless someone she feels inclined to convinces her otherwise. Atarah will always be there to pick you up; her loyalty remains firm.

At times, her old hateful and arrogant nature brews within. Her ways can be violent and crooked. Her past haunts her to this day.

Occupation: Regulator

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Born into a bloody wasteland from a family of Raiders, she grew up with their ways. She subccumbed to sadism; her life was like that of every typical raider - revolving around murder, torture, drugs and six. During each raid, her heart was blackened with evil.

One time, however she and a group of raiders found a small house, and in it, a family of four. The raiders murdered the family, not even giving a moment to spare the family. The young family soon became their "dinner". This was not the first time Atarah tasted human flesh.

As she grew older, she became a "plaything" for the raiders; her life was pulled down even further. She came into drugs, until it became a daily pill for her. Withdrawls attacked her whenever she didn't have a fix.

As the years past, it seemed like there was no way out. On her last raid, yet another family was attacked, but this time, the father muttered something only she could hear. The words bugged her, and she soon wanted to come out of the raider's life.

Being the stupid girl she was, Atarah marched right up to her father and told him she was leaving. This angered the raiders, so they beat her, and cut her body. A small jar of acid was thrown at her, burning her shoulder. The raiders threw her half-dead body far out on the wasteland to die. She would not exist today had a passing wasteland doctor not come by.

She became a Christian and close friends with the doctor. They travelled together and soon bonded into a relationship. The doctor was killed and tortured when a group of Talon Company Mercs ambushed them, knocking her out. One Merc hit him hard that his own fist needed tending too.

Now lonely, she wanders the wateland endlessly. Three years have passed, of going from town to town. Now, she wants to plant roots down and settle down somewhere - make some close friends and live in a good community.

As she wanders, Atarah finds a small note about Grayditch buried beneath the sand...

Name: Brandy Brooks

Age: 20

six: female

Appearance/attributes: Brandy has lightly tanned skin, dark brown hair just below her shoulders. She is about 5'7" tall, slender build, green eyes and a scar above her left eye. She is book smart, but lacks the necessary survival skills to travel the Wasteland on her own. Even though she is good at constructing and creating things, she's accident prone.

Weapons/armor: Hammer, wrench, and Combat knife. Black cargo pants, white t-shirt black framed glasses and a dirty red baseball hat.

Personality: Brandy is friendly, and kind. She tends to blab about the things that she has read in her pre-war books. She is a big dreamer, fueled by the books she reads.

Occupation: builder, moonshiner

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Brandy and her brother Ricky were raised by their grandparent, Bob and Cathy, in northern Michigan.
Brandy and Ricky grew up in the family business of distilling their own alcohol, better known as Papas Potion. Cathy taught Brandy from mostly pre-war books, as she was the homemaker and didn't venture out to much. During the warmer months, Brandy enjoyed working with her Papa repairing and or building new structures around the settlement and surrounding areas.
When Brandy turned 18, her inquisitive nature had her yearning to explore the Wasteland. She had never been far from home at all. Ricky, now 21, had traveled with his buddies and the stories they told only made Brandy long to experience it for herself.
At 19 Brandy's grandfather passed away, and her grandmother Cathy told her to follow her heart. Cathy convinced Ricky to let Brandy tag along on their next expedition. Reluctantly, Ricky said he would take her.
Now 20 years old, it was Brandy's job to set up camp and prepare meals. Other than traveling during the day, Ricky wouldn't let her do much else. He told Brandy when they started getting closer to D.C. That he would let her scavenge with them.
Her lack of knowledge and clumsiness drove Ricky and his friends crazy. One day they tried to teach her to shoot a .32 pistol. Brandy was so jittery wanting to impress him, accidentally squeezed off a round grazing his leg. Ricky automatically reacted by swinging a tire iron at her. It nailed on the left side of her forehead leaving a large gash and rendered her unconscious. Ever since that day the guys wouldn't let her touch a gun.
Stuck with setting up camp, and bored out of her mind, Brandy would drink the whiskey they had made. Only wrecking her relationship with her brother even more.

Name: Jamie T. Taylor 'J.T.'

Age: 30

six: male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: he is six feet tall, 170 pounds, long dirty blonde hair and scruffy beard, brilliant blue eyes. He has a scar across his back, from shoulder to shoulder, from a Mirelurk.

Weapons and armour: JT carries a hunting rifle, silenced 10mm pistol, and a switchblade. His clothing consists of brown work boots, worn out blue jeans, white tank top under a brown leather duster, with a pair of sunglasses. He also totes around his antique acoustic guitar, around his neck is a leather boot lace turned necklace. He places the guitar picks he makes onto it, usually around 6 or so.

Personality: JT is a charming, charismatic person. Prefers a mellow, laid back lifestyle. Some people think he's lazy, but he is quite quick when he needs to be. He can get along with almost anyone, but disrespect his mother, or guitar, and you have a problem. When JT is provoked, he does have a violent streak that will rear its ugly head, in part to his BoS training.

Occupation: Wasteland wanderer

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: JT, the middle of three sons to Mitch and JoAnne Taylor, was raised in the ruins of Atlantic City, Georgia. Mitch, a well known businessman, helped a great deal with the rebirth of the city. He had rebuilt an old hotel into a casino of sorts. JoAnne managed the in house restaurant and kept tabs on the more permanent tenants. JT had met many, many people, some who stayed awhile would teach or show him different things. JT had a vast knowledge of many different skills, but not particularly great at to many of them. One day, when JT was sixteen, a beautiful girl around his age showed up, her name was Haley. Her parents planned to live there for awhile. She carried a strange looking suitcase with her, JT introduced himself, and they had an almost instant friendship. She explained it was a guitar case, and eventually taught him to play it.

Over the course of the next two years, when JT wasn't working, the two of them were together. JT and Haley were inseparable, teenagers in love as JoAnne put it. JT developed a deep affection for music, particularly, the guitar. JT's father supported the Brotherhood of Steel immensely, he provided tech when he came across it, and finances. Mitch told the boys he was sending them to the Citadel for training, that he had made a deal with the BoS. His brothers wanted nothing more but JT, wanted nothing to do with it. Mitch forced him to go anyways, JT was extremely bitter and sick of the thought of leaving Haley.

JT completed training, eventually going awol. He did not like many of the means the Brotherhood used to procure their 'new' tech. While he was away, Mitch began dabbling in other areas, one in particular was becoming a slaver. In his casino, if you borrowed from the casino and lost, you really lost. Mitch would own you, if the poor soul was lucky, they would only have to work for Mitch, whether in his fields, on his buildings, or a casino prosttute.

When JT returned home five years later, Haley was a shadow or her former self. Much worse, JoAnne had passed due to a Jet overdose, Haley was now forced to be Mitches girl. JT, not only disgusted with his fathers new foray for making money, his now cruel demeanor and relentless pursuit of money and power. One night, while his father was passed out drunk, JT poisoned him. His brothers were killed serving the BoS, unaware of this, JT ultimately inherited his fathers businesses.

In an attempt to right what had been wronged. JT kept the savings of his fathers, but turned control of the casino over to the people Mitch had enslaved. Haley and JT ventured west, settling in Little Rock. They established a little restaurant, and enjoyed what they had, glad to be away from the haunting memories of Atlantic City. The couple wed, and all looked promising, they were even expecting a child. Haley died during childbirth, devastated, JT left with no particular place set in his mind. That was when he was twenty sixe years of age, now four years later, he continues to wander, carrying his two loves on his back. Haly's guitar, and the gift of music she had shared with him.

Name: Calypso

Age: 31

six: female

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Caucasian, Five foot nine inches and well toned. Fair complexion, long black corn-rows hair. She has mixed eye color - one blue one green - and wears sunglasses most of the time to conceal them. She is pretty, but has burn marks on her neck and a scar that runs down from her left eye to her jaw line. Calypso also has a Chinese dragon tattoo sleeve that wraps around her left arm, and ends on her shoulder blade. She uses prostitution to lure people to fulfill her deeds, to enslave, or to set traps for people.

Skills: Extremely skilled in melee weaponry, especially blades because they are silent.

Weapons and amour: Primary weapons is a Shishkabob, secondary is a Deathclaw gauntlet, and her side arm is a short sword. She wears black leather armor under an hooded black cloak with two Deathclaw horns on each shoulder of the cloak , black leather boots modified with silver toes with spikes.

Personality: She is arrogant, sadistic, selfish, and cruel. Is a superficial charmer as well, which ends up very badly for those who fall for her act. She is also a cannibal, who enjoys watching people suffer. Seeing people in pain and desperation only fuels her sick and twisted soul. At times, she gets too full of herself, and makes no attempt whatsoever to hide her intentions.

Occupation: Slaver

Faction: Moriarty

Backstory: Calypso's family was slaughtered and fed upon by a group of Chinese remnants. Her life was being spared because the remnants believed her to be a sacred warrior sent from King Yama, the ruler of the Ten Courts of Hell. Raised by an ex-Chinese soldier only known as Sensei Lee in the Canadian territory, Calypso was taught to live by any means necessary. Secluded from civilization, that meant hunt or be hunted, this included the occasional humans that would cross the territory.

She was taught the arts of combat daily and religiously treasures her weapons of death.

As Sensei used to say:

"These are your tools, these weapons are to be an extension of your body, mind and soul. They are your means of survival, meant to deliver death to ALL, who oppose you child. These are your weapons of death, treat them as part of you."

At age ten, Calypso was tasked to prove her worth - to prove that she was indeed sent from King Yama as the remnants believed her to be. She was sent into the wilderness for seven days with a Samurai sword, and nothing more than rags for clothing, and returned. . . .

Character Sheet:

Name: Shelby Jackson

Age: 26

six: female

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Shelby has pale skin, she stands at five foot six inches tall, bright blue eyes, thin lips and a slender face. Shelby has a delicate frame, and is not nearly as strong as Calypso. Shelby also wears Calypso's trademark, corn rowed hair, hers being blonde and black. She is missing her pinky finger on her left hand, scars on her back from being whipped, and has a dragon tattoo down her right leg. (Similar to Calypso's)

Weapons and armour: Bladed staff, Samurai sword, Mezz gun

Personality: Shelby hangs on Calypso's every word, she is obedient and extremely loyal to Calypso. She is very smart, and creative with constructing weapons, and various slaving tools. Shelby is relatively quiet, in Calypso's presence. Away from Calypso, she can be quite the little pvssyr box. Like the saying goes, while the cats away, the mice will play, it could not be more true with Shelby.

Occupation: Calypso's protege, she primarily makes weapons and slaving tools. Shelby also does a majority of Calypso's slave running.

Faction: whomever Calypso decides, in this case, Moriarty.

Backstory: Shelby was a mischievous child, growing up in North Battleford, a small reestablished settlement, in the Canadian Providence of Saskatchewan, it was a relatively quiet place. After being taught to read and write, she would study anything she could get her hands on. Shelby held a fascination for melee combat, since she was too young for a gun, Shelby would create swords, staffs, and spears from the remainder of petrified trees. Shelby's parents constantly scolded her, the people of the settlement would voice their displeasures with her as well.

At the age of ten, Shelby made her first Nuka grenade, to test it out, she tossed it in the settlements brahmin pen. Needless to say, this caused an uproar with the community. Her parents, unable to corral her enthusiasm for chaos, were faced with a daunting decision. They were forced to decide between, having her stay with the town sheriff, a corrupt man Mr. Fusiler was, but he kept the piece in the settlement. Or, they must pack up their family, leave, and never come back. They had no caps, barely enough weapons to hunt with, let alone defend themselves in the wasteland. Her parents relinquished her to Mr. Fusiler.

As Shelby began maturing into a young woman, Mr. Fusiler would abuse her, in various ways. This caused her to fester an hatred for everyone in the settlement. The once friendly, outgoing youth, was becoming a wolf in sheep clothing. At fourteen years of age, she heard rumors of a crazed woman, who with her Chinese remnants, were en slaving and slaughtering towns on her way to the States. Shelby had hoped, the Battleford would lie in her path.

Just after Shelby turned fifteen, her wishes came true. As the local hunters returned with horrific news, the crazed woman, Calypso, had stormed through Lloydminster, and was heading to Battleford. News of this sent everyone into a panic, Shelby relished every second, as she watched the towns people scurry to set up defenses. Mr. Fusiler locked Shelby in the backroom of his barn, as he did so many times before. Over the course of the last year, since Shelby first heard the rumors of Calypso, she had been preparing for this day to come. She would pick the lock to the barn door, and at night, would pilfer various things. Shelby made a staff like no other, using a pair of lawnmower blades, a conductor, braided fuel lines and flamer fuel.

Gunfire erupted, along with screams of the people Shelby had grown up with, it actually made her smile, as most of the town has shunned her. They were getting what they deserved, having never taken her accusations of Mr. Fusiler's disgusting acts. Shelby pulled up the wood plank in the floor, where her staff resided, looking it over as she picked it up. She picked the lock on the door, cautiously, she snuck outside. Shelby watched, as Calypso masterfully orchestrated her minions in the takeover of Battleford.

Catching some movement behind some brush, Shelby saw Mr. Fusiler take aim at Calypso's back. Igniting her staff, she sprung from her spot, Mr. Fusiler yelled for her to run. Instead, Shelby spun around, and with a loud swoosh and the crackle of flames, she sliced his stomach wide open. Mr. Fusiler's son sought to attack Shelby, she kneeled down, sweeping her staff upward, stabbed the young man in his throat. Shelby heard someone clapping, "Bravo darling, bravo" a dramatic voice called out. Turning to find, Calypso walking over to her, Shelby placed her staff on the ground.

"Take me with you" her blue eye sparkled, awaiting Calypso's answer. She saw two of Calypso remnants restraining her parents as they called to her. Calypso looked at them, then back to Shelby, picking up Shelby's staff.

"Prove you are indeed worthy of such a request" Calypso said, handing Shelby the staff.

Shelby walked over to her parents, without hesitation, they pleaded, apologizing profusely for anything they had ever done to the girl. None of it fazed her, she spun the staff, and executed them right there, no tears, no remorse. She looked at Calypso, she smiled back at Shelby, "very well done indeed, we shall hone your skills my dear, come now."

It has been eleven years since then, Shelby has grown into a woman, Calypso's protege. Calypso shares a special bond with Shelby, a mother like bond. The only person, beside Sensei Lee, that she has ever cared for.

(OOC - now you know who made Calypso's Shiskebob ;) )

Name: Frank Smith a.k.a Silas Hand

Age: 37

six: male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: quite greasy black, long hair. rather pale, lean and tall. walks with a slight shuffle from a damaged back, would be considered somewhat handsome if he didnt have such a sinister look to his eyes.

Weapons and armour: leather armor hidden underneath a simple black blazer, black tshirt and trousers. weapons include a silenced 9mm pistol, dagger, straight razor and other selection of knifes.

Personality: wants to be 'normal' but comes off very creepy. is not used to interacting with others unless it is with as blade, but tries to blend in.

Occupation: barber (ex-assassin)

Faction:grayditch

Backstory: Used to be a first class assassin, the best in his field. only retired as a unfortunate mission had gone awry. As he was sneaking his way across the victim's home, the warped wood of the roof gave way and smashed upon his sleeping prey. Luckly crushing and breaking his neck, but damaging Frank's back in the process. So unable to walk properly he could no longer be stealthy within his work (and he looked down upon flat out just killing his targets, what kind of assassin can't be underhand as possible?), he decided to go straight and live a 'normal' life with a 'normal' job as a barber. After all he is already skilled with a blade. And with that in mind, he set for Grayditch.

Looks like-

http://www.celebs101...er_Walken_9.jpg

Name: Bob Dobbs

Age: 35

six: M

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Caucasian, brown hair and eyes. 6', wiry and in good shape. Scars on left side, arm and leg, also hard of hearing in his left ear due to injuries suffered in combat against the BoS.

Weapons and armour: .45-70 Single Shot Rifle (w/detachable scope), Police Pistol, Combat Knife. Roving trader hat, wears suit of Rivet City Combat armor (Rivet City property marks struck out) if getting into combat, a Roving Trader outfit otherwise. Has a basic set of hand tools. Has a pack Brahmin that he may or may not sell once he reaches Greyditch.

Personality: Comes across as taciturn and somewhat aloof to strangers due to his fear of discovery and the fact he hasn't entirely come to terms yet with living amongst the people he had been practically raised from birth to regard as the Enemy....though meeting people over the years has worn away his hate of Wastelanders and resentment over the destruction of his faction. Now he's mainly concerned with staying alive, and lately has thought to himself it was better that the Enclave had failed as most of the people he has met didn't deserve to be killed as Eden had decreed. To people he knows (his fellow remnants and people he worked with in his various jobs), he's loyal, thoughtful and has a wry sense of humor. Would like to take a wife and settle down but sees that as problematic as he is basically a fugitive.

Occupation: Enclave Remnant- Combat Engineer

Faction: Grayditch

Backstory: Born in a Enclave facility in Southern Illinois, near what was Scott AFB near St Louis. As Eden began re-building the Enclave's strength, he had outlying outposts send their children East for incorporation in the Enclave's armed forces as they reached fighting age. Drafted at 16, Dobbs was brought to Raven Rock and then sent to Adams AFB for training. Induction testing showed a talent for mechanical repair, explosives and small arms so he was assigned to a Combat Engineer Company. Trained as a Combat Engineer, Dobbs is proficient at building field fortifications and erecting buildings, as well as the use of explosives and small arms but his main specialization is construction, specifically plumbing. By 2277 Dobbs was a Sergeant and led the squad that made up his Company's plumbing shop.

When the Enclave seized the Jefferson Memorial in 2277, Dobbs and his squad was transferred there from Raven Rock to support the scientists and technicians trying to bring the facility online. While they were able to provide considerable assistance, they were not scientists and were not directly involved with trying to get the purifier started. When Liberty Prime made it's famous assault on the Memorial, the Lone Wanderer and Lyon's Pride close behind, Dobbs and his men were ordered into the Taft Tunnels to hold open Col. Autumn's line of retreat once it was clear the giant robot could not be stopped. Autumn and his bodyguards escaped the purifier one step ahead of the Lone Wanderer and Lyon's Pride, and together with Dobbs and his men they escaped into the maze of tunnels under Washington. Fighting their way clear of the city, Autumn and his men parted ways with them and haven't been seen since. Dobbs and his men eventually rejoined with surviving Enclave forces and fought in the futile campaign to slow the Brotherhood's momentum. When Adams AFB was taken and the Mobile Crawler destroyed by the Lone Wanderer, the Enclave forces dissolved as all their leaders were now dead or missing, and their bases captured or destroyed.

Of the eight men and women in his squad the day the Brotherhood marched on the Purifier, only Dobbs and four others had survived. Realizing the Enclave was finished, they decided to go to ground and make what life they could in the Capital Wasteland or elsewhere. Hiding, selling, or discarding their equipment, they separated....but maintained contact...and blended into the mass of Wastelanders and hoped no one found out about their former allegiance. For the past several years Dobbs has worked mainly as a caravan guard, afraid to settle too long in one place...supplemented by odd jobs using his trade skills. For the past year he had been working for Rivet City security escorting water caravans, a well paying job but fraught with danger as Rivet City worked closely with the Brotherhood and the risk of discovery was high. Finding a flier for Grayditch, and a chance meeting with Susie Mack, Vault 101's Trader, in Rivet City's Market gave Dobbs an idea of how he could finally settle down safely.

Susie told him that Vault 101 was looking to upgrade their security forces, and the Overseer was reluctant to involve the Lone Wanderer due to past incidents. Dobbs decided to sell his suit of Hellfire Armor, which he had hidden and didn't dare wear anyway, to Vault 101 (and train one or more of their security guards in it's use) and trade for or buy tools to set himself up as a tradesman in the new town of Grayditch. Since it was a new settlement people didn't know each other and he stood a excellent chance of fitting in without having too many questions asked.

Dobb's intention is to set up shop as a plumber and/or mason, both skills he is proficient at. While he has no problem with it being known he is proficient with firearms his knowledge of military explosives will be kept carefully hidden unless events make it necessary to reveal it. The only item of Enclave issue on Dobbs is his old ID card....sewn into the base of his tool bag.

Name: David O'Riley

Age: 24

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: A tall and slender man, standing in at around 6'0". He has short, wavy, dirty blonde hair often unkempt because of lack of care and blue eyes. His face is angular in shape. Many people upon encounters shoot under when making assumptions about his age, 16 being the youngest, but people generally go for 19. He's an expect marksman, tracker, scout, hunter-gatherer and such jobs often require weapons with excellent maintenance, the striping and cleaning of his rifle being a daily ritual. Years of travelling have taught him valuable lessons of survival. He is, however, hopeless with hand-to-hand combat, but he often makes sure no one gets close enough to try anything.

Weapons and armour: DKS-501 Sniper Rifle, a prized possession which has been passed down from father to son for four generations. The weapon never leaves his sight, and despite its age it's remarkably well looked after and appears to be brand new. His secondary choice is a .44 Magnum, picked for its stopping power at close distance for when his rifle can't get the job done. Though, it's often kept in its holster.

Clothing wise, it's foreign... At least to the people of the East. He wears the duster coat of an NCR Ranger, with light clothing and a duster scarf around his neck. He ditched the armour attachments long ago. The ability to move rapidly and cross distances in a short time would only be hampered with armour in his opinion. But there appears to be a pouches on his belt, strap on attachments or pockets somewhere on him that is home to some piece of equipment.

Personality: A man who is very straight to the point, quiet and distance he doesn't like to stay in one location for too long. Not to say he isn't a friendly sort, he'll go out of his way help most people, people who appear decent to him. But his nature of rarely interacting with people often make certain folk suspicious, but as long as he has the caps, and the ability to get a job done. Then they ain't complaining.

Occupation: Hireling; guard, scout, hunter

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Born in California, Shady Sands. David grew up in a stable and "civilized" location. His father was an explorer on the behalf of the Followers of the Apocalypse and former NCR Ranger and mother was a member of the Followers of the Apocalypse.

The combination of the two led to much of his life travelling around much of the South-West America, with the Followers and his father, which have attributed to many of his skills. When he came of age, David didn't feel that military life suited him, the life of travelling made him feel free and that if he joined the army he'd only be caged up. So he remained with the Followers, rather than sign up with the NCR military. Bringing an end to four generations of NCR soldiers.

When rumours of a Brotherhood of Steel expedition to the East circulated, David's parents decided on their own expedition to the East. A small expedition of Followers willing to accompany them, along with hired guards was formed. They spent much of their early travels with settlers and Mormon missionaries.

Encounters with tribal's was often a danger, some greeted them with friendly curiosity, providing food and shelter. And many were outright hostile, and resulted in the deaths of more than had hoped.

Eventually they reached D.C. but to be considered an arm of the Followers was in doubt. Though they attempted to carry on with their original plans of bringing the "torch of knowledge to the wastes," however without some form of organization within the D.C. area, the task was just as hard as the journey.

By time they discovered Rivet City, they were barely even a Fellowship. Eventually breaking apart and going their separate ways. Despite having spent the past four years in D.C. David has developed a distaste of the place and desires to return back to NCR territory. However, with his parents being older than they used too and the addition younger brother of four. He knows that the chances of them making it back are slim.

Name: Amelia Kovac

Age: 23

six: Female

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Raven haired, lithe, graceful with light skin and deep enticing brown eyes. Amelia is a diamond amidst the rocks of the wasteland. She's intelligent, more-so than she actually lets on. Charismatic and manipulative, she's adept at spinning lies and swindling. It's also not beneath her to pick a few locks, hack a few personal computers, remove a few people if needed.

Weapons and armour: A forest green military jacket with sergeant chevrons, the previous owner of it is unknown but it's definitely authentic. Dark blue jeans and black hiking boots. She carries a Honshu knife, an incredibly sharp blade. And a 9mm but firearms aren't her speciality.

Personality: If the wasteland has taught her anything, it's that only the strongest survive. And she doesn't see the strong part as being an attribute to physical strength. An opportunist, assertive, and forward yet despite her nature, she is sociable - friendly with a sarcy and mischievous attitude behind it but there is always a personal wall there with people. She may have betrayed a few people and clients in her time but at least she has the decency to keep face with them. They are, however, certain things she won't deal in, slavery and drugs are two examples.

Underlying this however is quite possibly a smidgen of a softer side, but since she never lets people get too close, it's likely people won't ever find out.

Occupation: Currently, an enforcer of sorts.

Faction: Moriarty

Backstory: Amelia isn't quite sure where she was born, her parents were roving traders moving from place to place, bland people whose only objective in life was to scraqe by and avoid trouble. Making her early life a dull and uneventful. The constant moving didn't allow her to make friends or interact with children as much she would of liked. At the age of 10, whilst trading in a settlement in New England, a shoot out between two rival factions nearby broke out. Amelia's parents fled the scene, unintentionally leaving their daughter behind amidst the chaos. Once the fighting cease, she emerged from her hiding spot unable to find her parents.

Naturally scared, yet she recognised the opportunity of the situation, and it didn't take long for the opportunity to find her. She was found by a company of Mercenaries led by Datoka, a woman. Having spent time in her mother's shadow, who practically adhered to famine stereotypes, Datoka was an oddity. Datoka was strong, both mentally and physically, intelligent, unreadable in dealings, and straight up deadly in every form. Amelia became the de facto mascot for the company, becoming close to Datoka who became her mentor, learning much of her skills after refusing the offer to relocate her parents.

As she grew into a young woman, Datoka, who filled the roll as her adoptive mother, employed her skills as spy and scout, something the Amelia was proficient at. But who would suspect a pretty young girl being behind the eyes and hears of a hired army, and many men were quiet capable of divulging secrets with the right words. But the life of a mercenary wasn't for her, as much as she loved Datoka, she decided to move on.

At 18 she reached the settlement of Megaton. Where she was immediately noticed by Moriarty. The first few months of her tenure at Megaton often featured Moriarty in her life. He attempted to groom her into another one of his girls, it would take Moriarty a good few months before he finally realise that he was in fact being used by the girl. To add insult to injury she had the information that could cost him his grip on the town. Yet, rather strangely, Moriarty went with a more diplomatic route. He gave her a job, a position of power and even allowed her to keep the caps she stole, since then she has worked as Moriarty's personal agent, but for a while now she has been with Tenpenny on the behalf of Moriarty during the last few months. However, she holds no love for Moriarty, but she knows she's in a valuable position and all she has to do is bide her time

Name: Tao

Age: 34

six: male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: 5' 11, muscular build, asian, shaved head. Highly skilled with unarmed fighting techniques, in depth unederstanding of small arms repair and maitenance, loves explosive firearms. Poor with energy weapons and breaks most computers he is around.

Weapons and armour: Primary: MGL (it's a semi-automatic grenade launcher) Secondary: FN five-seven pistol Armor: grey flak vest with metal plates which have been spray-painted blue on the torso,right shoulder and both legs. The most distinctive feature of his armor is a grey ballistics mask speckled in faded blue paint

Personality: For the most part Tao is pretty cold and accepts most jobs no matter what the objective or who the target is. However he is not cruel or sadistic he simply gets jobs done and seens contracts as nothing more than a means to an end. His objective is to make caps so he can keep his grenade launcher loaded. He cares little about others and keeps himself emotionally detached from people he meets because he would kill anyone he met if it meant caps.

Occupation: independant mercenary, former member of Talon co.

Faction: Initially hired by Moriarty to help clear trade routes of raiders and intimidate travelling merchants into adding Grayditch to thier trade routes.

Backstory: When Tao was 19 he found a contract left near a dead man in a sheriffs duster which warranted the execution of a slaver who had taken a child from Megaton to be sold at Paradise Falls. Tao didn't have alot and the five-hundred caps the contract promised seemed like good money so he tracked the slaver to his camp outside of Arefu just before the slaver hit the small community. The slaver was better equipt and saw Tao coming so he shot at him and hit Tao in his thigh, Tao was bleeding heavily but squeezed a few rounds from his revolver and one of them hit the slaver in forehead. Hours passed and when Tao woke up he had been patched up by the residents of Arefu who were thankful for his help in protecting the town.
Tao began taking more contracts once he left Arefu and eventually made a name for himself in the mercenary buisness. He joined with some of his mercenary friends to form the Talon co. which he fufilled contracts with for many years until one contract which had the Talon co. raiding a pre-war armory in the DC ruins. With him on the contract were three other Talon company mercs who along with Tao travelled to the heavily gaurded armory, the armory's automated defence robots killed two of the mercenaries and by the time Tao and the remaining merc were within the armory bunker they had run out of ammunition. Once they entered the bunkers armory and saw the amount of pre-war weapons and military tech Tao shot the remaining mercenary in the head and grabbed as much armor, weapons and ammo he could carry. In the years since Tao has established himself as one of the most reliable and deadly mercenaries in the Capitol wasteland.

Name: Cole Anders

Age: 23

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: He is Caucasian with slicked back dark brown hair, approximately 6'2 with dark brown eyes and light skin. He has a slender build and his body is defined with very lean muscle. He also has a few burn marks due to a few "mishaps".

Here he is.

Weapons and armour: A black fedora with a Pre-War business suit and Sunglasses.

His weaponry consists of a Silenced 9mm pistol and a concealed Combat knife.

Personality:
Cole is very charismatic, convincing others of his point of view with relative ease. He's also the type of person that if he speaks, people instinctively listen. He also has an unusual calm about him, never easily letting himself be flustered by most things. He speaks with great articulation and tact whenever engaging anyone in conversation. He constantly anolyzes and sizes up anyone he speaks to, trying to divine intent and character from them.

He does, however, have a dark and sinister side that tends to reveal his true ambitions. He gets what he wants, one way or another, and is determined to get the job done, no matter the cost.

Cole also suffers from Pyromania, and is a classified Pyromaniac. He carries a lighter on his person at all times and also has a mild anxiety disorder that tends to get worse the longer he goes without some relief of tension.

Occupation: Ex-Private Eye

Faction: Currently Unaligned

Backstory:

Raised from Little Lamplight at the age of two, Cole has no memories preceding his life within the cavern. He learned basic skills such as reading, writing, and math, along with basic combat skills such as shooting and survival. He became quite favored among the children of Little Lamplight, taking office after the departure of MacCready with ease.

He ruled the cavern leisurely, allowing the children to do as they please like all the rulers preceding him. But he invested a great many resources to insure that when his time of departure arrived, he would not be thrown out into the wastes like a filthy animal. He issued a Caravan transport across the wasteland on his 16th birthday with a single destination in mind; Tenpenny Tower.

Upon arrival, he payed the hefty entrance fee with the large sum of caps he had collected over the years and was allowed entrance. He was set up with a small suite and lived within the safety of the Tower for the next several months. However, Cole longed for something more then sitting around all day and watching as snooty bigots went on with their lives. That is, until he met Mr. Burke.

Mr. Burke, impressed with his vast knowledge and skills, hired Cole as his personal Private-eye. He did the jobs Burke asked of him, investigated anything he required, and eliminated anyone that stood between him and his goals. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that went on reliably. It wasn't until one fateful day that Mr. Burke assigned Cole a assignment which led him to do the one thing that his employer never approved of; He showed mercy.

Still works in progress, but...

Name: Toby (Runt)

Age: 26 (01/05/2252)

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Toby's greatest abilities are thanks to his significantly high intelligence, which would be mainly his repair. Although his ability to use and maintain a gun is decent. However, Toby failed to be born "healthy"-and his history probably doesn't help that factor, being a man with very little strength or endurance. Years of physical abuse have mauled him-having ugly scars on his back in particular, but having a number of other gashes that never fully healed. One slaps across a small part of his somewhat tall forehead. The man is absolutely not hideous-at the very least, not by the Wasteland's standard, but he never had an exceptionally pretty face either. Often, he looks a little sickly, making an otherwise tan skin color more ghastly and pale in tone than it should be. His general look is mousy and small-having a similarly sickly thin frame and arms, with a worried look set by his auburn brows against gray eyes, one that had an eyelid ever so faintly lower than the other. Even with relatively thin lips, his face looks as if it pouts, and he never seemed to completely grow into his large ears.

Weapons and armour: In his constant fears for his own life, the individual often wears the best armor he can manage to afford, steal, or find-and manage to wear; anything beyond a medium weight takes too much effort to lug around on his body. Wearing a mix of different objects, from a random elbow pad or a part of an older army outfit, combined with a helmet from before the army of the Great War largely became the force to attack with. Often, his clothing makes his basic body look bigger-yet, at the same time, looks bulky on him to where one can realize how particularly small he is if they look around the clothings' ends. More so than they might otherwise. As for a gun, he currently carries around a well maintained hunting rifle.

Personality: Toby's impression from his looks are typically that he's a harmless man that could be scared a way by touching his shoulder with one finger. His initial personality, through impression, isn't much different. Nearly as if he worries he'll be beaten by merely being in the presence of another. While he actually is active in his behavior, and often is making proposals or performing tasks to his own interests and benefits, he has (particularly originally) a timid, sometimes even paranoid and quiet, attitude. However, this doesn't mean that Toby's simply a victim of the world-the man has also grown the tendency to be obsessively spiteful and grudging. Whether or not he gets pay back, he'll mull over on how to-and how badly he wishes he had already-for hours, months, and in the worst case years. With a survivalist personality and nearly no dignity at all, he mainly seeks goals for his own profit-whether directly or indirectly. Having only a genuine interest in learning further details in engineering and, now, other forms of sciences(although far more loosely).

Where Toby can be angered is through severe damage to his pride and disregard-or calling him his unannounced nickname, one nobody has actually used toward him in years: "Runt."

Occupation: Repairman, Researcher(Mostly in Automobile Engineering, and Statistics)

Faction: Grayditch

Backstory: What might be considered a nickname was more than just that at birth-it was his entire title. Within the first day, possibly due to complications of pregnancy due to his mother's influence, he was plainly-as bluntly put-"a runt." Within the year, it was confirmed as the best fitting name for him-as he hardly survived, particularly so with little help from a number of the people he lived with.
The group he was involved in was an initially roving band, that had learned to make functioning motorcycles and salvage a largely undamaged highway that was Northwest of the Capital Wasteland. Using their own form of brutality and the great advantage of transportation that they obtained, they would either raid or "tax" any civilization or persons using the path. Making them a not hugely sized, but certainly puissant, affiliation.
Being unable to evade or handle illness well, perform anything very physical, and unable to manage a gun or weapon-the response to such inabilities, weakness, was a number of beatings and the object of everyone's mockery otherwise. It had been a number of times where he had nearly been crippled or suicidal in the process.
Eventually, a more adaptive nature picked up his current personality and a new determination and interest-with it, he gained massive knowledge and understanding in the subject of motorcycles. Later learning other subjects of engineering and statistics for a hobby. At the same time, he finally earned the ability to shoot a gun not only properly, but acceptably well. It failed to prevent subjection to abuse, but it did make his life more lenient-especially as others began to pay him for his services in repair.
It was only in the past five years that Toby actually left, picking the plainer and more harmless term to call him by from there on. He still pursues an ideal situation, where his skills would be utilized and "properly" appreciated.



Name: Tracy (Tootsie)

Age: 12 (4/30/2266)

six: Female

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Still being green to the true brunt of a violent life, and being young anyhow, Tracy has the gift of lacking any scars or any damage from severe hardships. She's gifted further with naturally good looks-having a healthy body that's just a bit underweight of what the standards would be in a normal society, and a slender face that slips into a soft, small chin tipping the end. At twelve years of age, she has not yet experienced any physical development-aside from her face, which has already begun to fit proportions slightly more appropriate of an advlt. Large, open hazel eyes with soft, chocolate brows and full, almost pouting lips often give her a curious look when she's without expression. A nose that's just a touch upturned and pudgy dapples her face, which is framed by curling short, well-combed, and richly brown hair. The one other notable fact is that her buck teeth are larger than average, though not in such a way that it would detract from her appearance.
Being a child, her ears are larger proportionally than an advlts, her face still has a chubbier look, and her smooth forehead remains rather tall. Though the last won't likely completely disappear from maturity.
Although she might have eventually learned the basics if she was still in the Republic of Dave, Tracy still has no knowledge in weaponry-aside from the most basic and obvious facts after a few observations. As for practice, the most stabbing and ripping she's done with her one "weapon" has been for dealing with wrappers and meals.

The only real advantages she has is her relatively high intelligence, and far more impressively high charisma-which has allowed her, in occasion, to be resourceful and clever. More often, however, it's what allows her to beg for aid and food from others. Her speed hasn't been of much use, although it's significantly decent, aside from scouting. It could possibly allow her, especially with her small size, to escape a number of enemies-but not one that's speedy themselves.

Weapons and armour: Often what's available for defense is too large for the girl, and the most she has ever worn is a light helmet and a vault security bullet vest that she had found previously. As of now she owns a child's yellow, pre-war dress and a light, loose sweater. Somewhat worn and tattered from use. She also wears hiking boots-one, with it's remaining string pulling it's arc as far down as it can; the other loosely and awkwardly on her foot.

Personality: Perhaps adopting some traits from her mother's, Jessica, personality, Tracy began rather ambitious; selfishly so. Based on the way her father doted on her- calling her "Tootsie," and once or twice "Toots"-Tracy learned a little manipulation went a long way. Once being equally loving of her mother and father, a new competition arose between herself and her then incessantly jealous mother for her father's attention-which made Tracy both greedy for his praise and for the things she could get from his adoration. He eventually became the only one Tracy has ever been loyal to-and, if one were to ever call her the nickname attributed to her by Dave, Tracy would almost unfailingly soften or grow more perky due to the connection of the memories.
Typically, the attitude that's revealed to the public is an excited, childish, even innocent one-and emotional. It's easy for her to become desperate or hurt and crumble into tears, having somewhat of an excuse-being a child in a post-apocalyptic age. In a place that has remained in its own sort of Dark Age. She's quick to be very expressive of her appreciation to any aid and to give praise of others, as well.
It, of course, turns out to be a form of manipulation-partially in necessity, partially in the fun of "acting." She remains a very self-serving being, knowing no one any longer that she feels she ought to care too deeply for or be all that loyal to. However, she does still have a youthful energy and ignorance to her own extent; especially after being so long isolated in the Republic of Dave. And, although she has no intention of going out of her way to aid others, she is a genuinely social being. Perhaps most notable is that she has more insecurities than what her alter ego could ever have. Mixing between her past relationships and experiences, and the simple fact that she's essentially a lone, little girl in the big bad wasteland.

Occupation: Has often acted as something close to, if anything, a "Diplomat" or "Spy" of sorts.

Faction: Grayditch

Backstory: Being among the eldest of Jessica's children, Tracy was born into the Republic of Dave-and, like most of it's residents, had no thoughts of the world as negative nor any intention to leave its borders of short length for the outside world. Almost up until what could be most closely called a banishment or, by her words, a betrayal, she was almost among the best behaved.
However, after finding a new, fiery desire for her father's newfound fawning, Tracy went out of her way to coax out further attention from Dave. It wasn't long before Jessica took notice and, consciously or not, began to feel competitive toward her own daughter-adding yet another trouble to the already dysfunctional family. When it began to appear to her, in the daughter-mother rivalry, that she was losing the fight, Jessica deciding to take the effort to remove the opponent. While the group was asleep, the Second Wife used the opportunity to "escort" her daughter as long of a distance as possible before the sun began to show.
Most likely, in her abilities-or lack thereof, Tracy would have died rather quickly. If not for the fact that a scavenging group discovered her and, both sympathetic to her situation and charmed by her nature, adopted her. After that, she traveled with the group-experiencing a portion of the D.C. ruins and even encountering one of the less fatal vaults-which gave her the security vest that she once or twice wore and her dress that she still owns.
Being a nomadic group, they are currently visiting Grayditch-coincidentally the place that is supposed to be a new location for trade.

Name: AUBREY TATE Clark

Age: 15 YEARS, 6 MONTHS, 5 DAYS, 12 HOURS, 5 MINUTES, 47 SECONDS (8150405.47 MINUTES)
(06/12/2262 at 23:54:13)
Disclaimer: All numbers involving how many days there are in a year and how many days there are in a month are approximated to the average or most common number, numbers will be rounded if required.

six: F

Basic physical appearance and attributes:
HEIGHT: 5' 8"
WEIGHT: 140 lb.
BLOOD TYPE: AB
HAIR COLOR: Brown
EYE COLOR: Green

A teenager with dark brown hair with almost strikingly brighter, russet highlights cut into a bob with short bangs that curls a bit, she has a deep brown tan and green eyes tinted by blue. They are very slightly slanted and suggest she might have ancestry from Asia. She has beauty in that her body has no damage from any aspect of the Wasteland-not illness, not radiation, not starvation, not dehydration, not combat...the list goes on. However, while she might be striking in some features, her actual facial structure is rather plain-a face that's somewhat too long, eyebrows that are too thick and have never been bother too be plucked, with a less perfect curve than what a Playboy magazine would showcase, her nose does not jut out quite like Pinocchio's , but it does shoot straight down like a Greek statue's man and defies that simple, smooth curve that seems to be desired of woman.

Her body is a stick, a very tall, well trained stick-even if her body does have curves like any healthy woman does, they're only there because she has no belly to speak of. With an unimpressive chest and near non-existent rear that would catch the eyes of no one, she compensates the fact by training to be a skilled fighter in both close and long ranged battle. Aubrey has never been a romance or extremely feminine kind of girl, anyhow. Why kiss a boy when you can beat all the biological pulp out of him, and get his cash?

Aside from her abilities in combat, she has a naturally amazing perception-her senses in general are rather good, and her eyes are even better. As absolutely, horrifyingly terrible she is in anything involving charisma, she can certainly notice every little tick someone makes when they're holding back on emotions or thoughts.

Yet while her impressive athletic abilities can sometimes ease the problems her people skill's cause, and as fit as she is, Clark has a very crippling lack of knowledge and natural adaptation to the Wasteland. Disease has not been in Vault 73 for years, if not decades, and what little there has ever been could be treated. Any problem she has had the luck of not enduring, as a Vault resident, will be several times worse than it would be for any Wastelander her age. Clark has not even killed a living thing-her training was, even as good as it was, on and with inanimate objects.

While it is more of a perk than a skill, the Vault has gifted her with a decent, broad education in American history, writing, reading, literature, science, and other things-subjects aside from combats, basic repair, and guns. She was even taught art, and has become relatively skilled at sketching.

Weapons and armour: A Pistol, A Semi-Automatic Rifle, and a Fixed Blade Dagger. Wearing vault security armor, her group sent her out well-prepared with stock specifically from the top authority.

Personality:
CRIMINAL HISTORY:
The Owner Has Committed the Following Offenses:
-Three Assault Charges
-One Case of Sabotage

Aubrey Clark can be a kind individual, and typically means well-thinking that what she does is the correct course of action to take. However, Clark is rather stubborn, and often nearly impossible to rationalize with once she has committed herself to something, and tends to let her emotions make the decisions. A mind that is far too proud and too honest, and lacking the charm to even use smooth words that might otherwise ease the blow. The only thing she isn't willing to speak up about is certain parts of her vault history.

Which, adding onto that, she's also too proud of. Aubrey has grown to see the few, surviving stragglers as unfortunate, but still lesser savages, and looks to other vaults that couldn't survive their experiments as also inferior. With this belief in superiority, arrogance, and pride, she fails to see or admit her mistakes and downfalls.

The few that have ever liked Aubrey find adoration in the best of her-a curious, honest girl who actually intends to make something of herself, and genuinely wishes the best for others and will lend a hand out to those in a tough spot.

It's hard to see any of that past the glaring, blatant flaws, however.

Occupation: Student Scout and Explorer!

Faction: Vault 73

Backstory:
MOTHER: Sandra Tate FATHER: Richie Baye
SIBLINGS: Craig Tate
FAMILY BLOODLINE: The Tate Family
VAULT: 73
LOCATION: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
DURATION in VAULT: 06/12/2262-03/06/2278

"I have been sent to explore the vast lands surrounding my home, to find any possibly useful or important facts about it, understand and write down the lands and any remaining, living things within it, take samples of these things, and return with this information and items obtained."

The longest explanation Clark has ever given to another, she more often simply puts, "I have been sent on an expedition for my home." Purposefully, the armor and clothing she wears was stripped of any symbols saying "73," in case there were threats that could actually use that information.

This expedition has lasted for roughly a week, with a healthy Clark quickly reaching the D.C. area and taking notes of the lands she passed in one of the many journals she currently posses. She has only encountered towns and the like very recently, and only been within the Capital Wasteland for a day. To the people she's finally met and asked questions or taken pictures of with an old camera, she's also bragged about her home life. How successful she was, how brilliant everyone was, how there was always clean water and good food, and so on.

The one thing she hasn't done is give more than the basic details, always being quick to proudly detail the fact that she is the first of both her generation and her vault to explore these lands, and that they sent her out specifically because of her outstanding credentials. So anything more about her vault or her history is completely vague-as not even the latest model of the pip-boy that she owns accounts for anything.

The surname and nickname she goes cheerfully by is "Clark." As she finds her situation much like that of Louis and Clark when they explored the west.

Name: Antony Park

Age: 32

six: Male

Basic physical appearance and attributes: A clean face with no beard, very neat, short hair. Tired looking face with a very kind type of complexion coming along. No real physical defects except for a bad leg. Stands at 5' 11''. Looks like this

Weapons and armour: Leather armor. An M14 rifle with a scope, a sawed off shotgun, and a Glock 19 pistol.

Personality: Antony is a very intelligent and strong minded man who believes in caring for the sick and weak to make them strong and able citizens. Survival of the fittest person with a much more caring attitude about it. A true humanist who has a strong racism towards ghouls and Super Mutants and outright refuses to heal them. Humans on the other hand, Antony believes in the spirit of humanity and works diligently to preserve such a spirit.

Has a sort of petrified fear to Radscorpions and scorpions in general, no matter how small.

Occupation: Physician/Sniper

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Antony was born in the heart of New Vegas, specifically to the Followers of the Apocalypse. He was raised as a child to learn medicine, both the standard type and the herbal type. When he was 25, he left New Vegas after being falsely accused of killing another Follower but not before stealing various acupuncture textbooks and an infantry textbook.

During the trek east, he read both medicine and combat. The former was his passion and the latter was something Antony always wanted to do. But on his way to D.C, he was set upon by a pack of radscorpions. He almost died but was healed by a doctor, however Antony's leg never fully recovered, leaving him to completely change his combat method.

Antony studied under the doctor for three years before leaving to Washington D.C. He stayed a resident in Megaton and later, a wandering doctor who heard of Greyditch

Name: William Eli Shepard

Age: 21

six: Male

Basic physical appearance: He is approximately 5’11” with a muscular build, has short brown hair with medium length sideburns, a soul patch, bright blue eyes, under his left eye there is a small scar, and is Caucasian with a light tan.

Attributes: He has minor experience in medicine due to his pacifist upbringing (which he has forsaken, instead choosing to take up arms against any perceived injustice), and his skill is passable to treat small wounds and set broken limbs properly. (This is based off of the Nerd Rage perk) When angered or wounded, he has a tendency to fall into a primal berserker rage, and due to the adrenaline, has greatly increased strength and resilience to pain. Once he regains control, however, any damage he ignored during his rage hits him all at once, causing tremendous pain. He is also quite proficient in hand to hand combat.

Weapons: Primary: A custom sledgehammer with an extended 6’ steel pole, capped at the bottom end with a spike. He also uses it as a walking stick.
Secondary: A Single Shotgun with a sawn-off stock and shortened barrel which is slung over his back.
Sidearm: A .45 Auto Pistol, with an HD Slide, and a detachable silencer which is holstered halfway down his right thigh.

Armor: He has on a black tank top, blue jeans with a black leather belt, black steel toe boots, a bullet proof vest, black biker gloves with metal studs on the knuckles and a metal plate on the back of the hands, an elbow pad on his left elbow, a long red scarf, biker goggles which are usually up on his forehead, and a dark brown ankle length duster with a hood.

Personality: He is somewhat removed from most people, and has a dry sense of humor, but he is a very kind person, and extremely loyal to his friends, though he isn’t the type who will follow blindly. He is very idealistic compared to most wastelanders, because as a child, he found and read a book about knights, whose code of chivalry, as well as the heroic acts portrayed in the story, inspired his particular sense of justice, and the slaughter of his hometown by raiders solidified these beliefs. In his words, “Even if it seems like a suicide mission, you must not let an act of evil go unpunished.”

Occupation: He does some work as a doctor, though his business is rather unsteady, so he’s been trying to get into a more stable career, perhaps as an innkeeper, or the owner of a bar, though if he does manage to do so, he’ll still provide medical service if he’s needed.

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: William grew up in a major trading hub near the Great Salt Lake, and when he was 16 years old, he set of on an errand to a larger settlement. The journey there and back lasted two weeks, and upon his return, he found his town had been taken over by members of the 80s. Using his cunning, William snuck within the city limits, and found that most of the members were still in the bar, and had been drinking to their victory since the attack.
He attached the silencer to his .45 Auto, and gave any members outside of the bar a quick and stealthy send-off. Then, shotgun in hand, William stormed the bar taking out several gang members, and receiving several bullet wounds for his efforts. He managed to escape into a back room, and locked the door behind him. Looking around, he realized they were keeping several of the townsfolk in this room, most of them hurt, some dead, but one caught his eye instantly. William’s mother lay dead in a corner, and seeing this, he became wholly consumed with rage. He faced the door just in time to see it explode open, and in burst the 80s, though they now fought a foe on the other side.
On the opposite side of the 80s, was the ghoul known as Jeremiah Cooke, though most knew him as Iron Fang, because of his ‘metal teeth’. Being attacked from both sides, the remnants of the 80s were quickly routed, and the battle was won. Afterwards, William did his best to tend to the remaining citizens, then he and Cooke escorted them to the city where William had been previously. He and Cooke decided to travel together, and soon headed east…


Name: Jeremiah ‘Iron Fang’ Cooke

Age: 219

six: Male

Basic physical appearance: A 6’6” pre-war ghoul whose lips are gone, revealing his teeth to be covered in the remains of braces.

Attributes: He is quite large, so he has far greater strength than many individuals, and he is also extremely smart and wise, having learned a great many things during his long life. He has become somewhat of an alcoholic, as it eases the painful memories he has accumulated, though his time spent with William has helped him somewhat.

Weapons: Primary: An Assault Carbine with an extended magazine.
Secondary: A Combat Shotgun
Sidearm: A Scoped .44 Magnum

Armor: Metal armor (minus the spiky shoulder pads) which has been painted red, a black bandana wrapped around his mouth, a pair of mirrored aviators, and a knee length brown duster with a hood.

Personality: He can come across as rude or anti-social, but in reality he’s really just very awkward because he had lived alone for nearly fifty of the years he was alive. He is very kind, but this kindness has been tempered by the harshness of reality. Being that he is a pre-war ghoul, he was taught the moral values of the Old World, and believes in the need for laws to keep people in line, and society from falling apart, though he is pragmatic, and doesn’t like to put himself or others in needless danger because of his beliefs. On the other hand if a friend is in danger, he’ll lend as much support as he can, even if he has to throw his life away in the process.

Occupation: Helps people whenever possible, and is a strong supporter of the Regulators. Mostly he just helps out William when he is treating patients.

Faction: Greyditch

Backstory: Cooke was born sixteen years before the Great War, and like many teenagers had braces. When the bombs fell, he was inside of a shelter his father had built himself. His parents, sister, and he had survived the bombardment, but soon afterward, he watched his family die of radiation poisoning, and soon after that he began to experience the transformation into a ghoul.
Cooke wandered the wastes for nearly a hundred years, but everywhere he went he was mocked, because when he became a ghoul, his lips had fallen off, permanently putting his braces on display. Many people thought he was a metal toothed monster, and so he became a hermit for a long time, before finally wandering again. Eventually Cooke ended up in a small town near the Great Salt Lake, and the people there didn’t seem to care too much what he looked like, and even coined the somewhat affectionate nickname ‘Iron Fang’.
When the town was ransacked by the 80s tribe, Cooke hid, and decided to wait it out, but soon after he noticed one of the kids from town return from a trip, and assault the 80s head on. Deciding he couldn’t just let the kid get killed, Cooke sprang into action, and upon arrival, half of the 80s were already dead, and between him and the boy, William, the rest were mopped up fast. After this incident, the two helped the surviving citizens, and headed east together.