In the 21st century, humanity had become a virtual utopia; an advanced civilization, dismissing the atomic genocide of the past as an ugly necessity for the future ahead. The economy was healthy - the poverty rate had drastically plummeted - it seemed that the American Dream had finally been realized. A heated home, a family of four, and scientific luxuries people of the past couldn't dream of. But hidden behind the white picket fence was an ugly truth; humanity had not yet grown beyond it's lust for war. The years of flagrant consumption led to a lack of resources. Unneeded wars raged on overseas. Countless smaller nations collapsed. And humanity's utopian chapter seemed to be coming to a close, ready to begin anew.
In the year 2077, humanity was bathed in nuclear hellfire as punishment for it's greed. The past triumphs, accomplishments, and errors had been reduced to a fine irradiated dust. The world's face permanently disfigured, the survivors of the atom bomb wandered the wastes of the post-apocalyptic nation, scavenging towns and building a foundation for another, better tomorrow. But with progress came chaos. Raiders assaulted blossoming towns, and mercenaries grew in numbers. As several centuries passed by, humanity seemed to be rising again. Settlements and cities arose from the ashes of the past, governments grew in power, and people forged a new beginning for themselves. The West was a barren, turmoil-filled wasteland, once occupied by the NCR, House, and Caesar's Legion. The East was a war-torn mire of despair, once held by the Brotherhood of Steel, the Institute, the Railroad, and Minutemen.
But what of the South?
New Orleans. A plethora of culture, dialect, fine cuisine. The area never seemed to truly leave the 1950s era; the widespread jazz, the French culture, the mystique of voodoo. The city had been stricken by the irradiated fire that had seared America, due to it's importance as a major shipping port. The Bayou Wasteland had become a damp, ugly city; major suburban parts of the city had been reclaimed by the swamp, and hostile, monstrous irradiated creatures born out of the Glowing Bog began to infest the city. In the year 2254, the quagmire of radiation and anarchy was met head on by five charismatic, intelligent and cultured foreigners, seeking to return it to it's cultured and diverse past and a golden time of liberty and advancement, aiming to bring about a new age of enlightenment. They united the warring and chaotic region and brought about a long-gone peace. Their people cleaned the streets of the rubble, creatures, and marauders, driving them to the edges of the area and into the Glowing Bog. They began a separate governments across five walled districts.
In the seventy years since the rejuvenation of the region, the Bayou Wasteland had been cleared of four rulers, leaving the descendants of the sinister, greedy survivor. The Orleans Order had been begun after the deaths of the four kings, effectively creating a monarchy with control over all districts. New factions had arisen through the years; the French Revolution, an organization dedicated to reuniting the regions and removing the monarchy in form of a democracy. The Guild of Voodoo, a shadowy organization with highly advanced technology disguised as " mystical voodoo." The Super Mutant Tribals, non-hostile super mutants occupying the Glowing Bog, hunting food and occasionally trading with the outside. The Gulf Marauders, wild and chaotic raiders travelling along the Gulf Coast in ships, attacking villages and slaughtering civilians.
It is the year 2309. Orleans is on the verge of war, with the threat of the Glowing Bog growing, Gulf Marauders from the North, Raiders from the East, and the Orleans Order facing the call for revolution. It's the job of the people to decide the fate of the Bayou Wasteland.
BAYOU WASTELAND
VAULT 61 - The "Unity Vault." A vault in which every resident has a transmitting chip implanted into their mind at a young age, allowing an all-knowing artificial intelligence to control all activities and keep the vault running as efficiently as possible. It's located deep in the Glowing Bog.
VAULT 63 - A "Control Vault." A normal and surviving vault, filled with living and content residents, that occasionally send out people to live in the wastes when they're ready to trade. A common source for vault dwellers in Orleans.
VAULT 57 - The "Soylent Vault." The vault utilizes long-dead residents in order to provide an ample food source for it's people. The dead residents are sent into the "corpse chambers," which are, in reality, a massive kitchen, seasoning and chopping up the meat.
VAULT 74 - The "Salem Vault." The vault is filled with a wide selection of books relating to magic and witchcraft, claiming that it's real. The residents are highly suspicious people, and every few months kill a so-called "witch" that they believe to be practicing black magic. It's located under water, after much of the above area was flooded.
THE BASTILLE - A high-security, brick prison located in close proximity to the Savreaux District. It houses some of the worst criminal scum across districts, and prisoners are transported there in cages pulled by Brahmin. The Bastille has a large, powerful cache of weapons stored to keep the prisoners in.
DEATH CAVERNS - A deep, rocky cave located close to the Fontaine District, in the Southwest. There are rumours circulating that the cave has mysterious, powerful, and clawed creatures lurking deep in it, but many are too terrified to come close.
TRADING OUTPOST - A popular trading outpost, on the small peninsula off the coast of Orleans. The peninsula is filled with marble brick buildings and Order soldiers, as merchants from overseas travel there in order to receive goods that are rarely available in Orleans.
SUPER MUTANT TRIBE - A tribe of super mutants in the heart of the Glowing Bog - responsible for most of the peaceful super mutant population in the Bayou Wasteland.
ORLEANS ORDER
The beginning of the atomic war had left New Orleans an ugly, irradiated husk of itself - a rotting corpse, infested with maggots. The Bayou Wasteland, as it came to be known, was a dangerous and lawless land, where raiders ran free and irradiated abominations rose to power, wiping out any form of opposition that dare oppose them. The era of chaos and death was known as the "Reign of Terror", in which the colorful and enlightened civilization of the past had been gutted and obliterated. The raiders burnt down museums and clubs; monsters infested the homes and restaurants; and the bright, hopeful chapter of New Orleans was truly dead.
The land lay to fester for centuries; anyone psychotic enough to try to change things were disemboweled by the animals, decapitated by the raiders, or succumbed to the heavy radiation leaking from the Glowing Bog - the massive, growing swamp lying directly to the East, assimilating suburban areas into it's mossy folds, and with notorious reputation for killing humans the moment they step in. The soil was extremely fertile, however, and people still tried. The Bayou Wasteland was filled with eager settlers, elated to form a farm on the rich ground, until they realized just the mess they'd gotten themselves into. It wasn't until five rich, eccentric socialites had arrived that things actually began to change for the better.
The men were of an odd origin - claiming in their odd accent that they came from a land overseas, eager to visit a new side of the apocalypse. The five men saw potential in the land - the extremely fecund soil, the abundance of intact buildings, and hopeful population - and decided to begin it anew, dismissing the "Bayou Wasteland" and claiming their new region as "Orleans," deciding that the city didn't seem very.. new. The men got to work; the first order of business being the dangerous beings lurking around each corner. The charismatic men were able to rally the people together, and forming an odd, mismatched army, began a clean up project that would last almost ten years. This was known as the "War for Orleans."
After much blood was spilled and countless lives had been lost, the project had been completed, leaving the beaten and battered remnants to begin the reconstruction period. Setting to work in the now safer streets, the population began to build up high walls in accordance to what the debutantes had envisioned - a large, colorful walled city, with beautiful marble brick walls and stone streets spanning the entire wasteland connecting people, the Glowing Bog having been beaten back into the hellscape that it had crawled from. The men created five districts, that each man would hold control over; and they set to work, designing districts that would work in conjunction with each other to form a proper nation.
The Savreaux District, the district of art, literature, and philosophy, held the capital of New Orleans, the French Quarter, and was filled with rich nobles, artists, and soldiers, housing Henry Savreaux. The Fontaine District, the district of fine cuisine, utilizing agriculture, animal breeding, and fishing to create fine food to ship down the Mississippi River, housing Louis Fontaine. The Lambert District, the district of war, designing weapons, training soldiers, and refining battle tactics to defend districts, housing Archard Lambert. The Millot District, the district of technology, utilizing electrical power and science to attempt to revive old world luxuries, housing Raymond Millot. Finally, the Proulx District, the district of trade, gathering supplies to trade with merchants overseas, housing Channing Proulx.
The districts lived in harmony with each other - offering supplies, troops, out-of-nation items, and other luxuries to each other, creating a stable nation and economy. After twenty long years since their arrival, the dream of the men had finally been realized. The dream lasted for another five years, until, finally - one man died. Channing Proulx of a trading assault by an outsider. The man left his district in the hands of Henry Savreaux. Two years passed, and another died, of radiation sickness. Louis Fontaine entrusted his district in the hands of Henry Savreaux. Raymond Millot would later be devoured in eight years by a savage beast that snuck through the district walls, entrusting his district with - Henry Savreaux. Archard Lambert, would later be caught in a shooting incident - entrusting his district to the last remaining king, Henry Savreaux.
In ten years, Henry Savreaux held control of each district, effectively creating a powerful and wide monarchy. His reach was massive, but it quickly became twisted. The man kicked off the year 2240 with a series of harsh taxation laws and a requirement that soldiers be housed in each district, dispelling each district's personal police force. He cut off ties to anyone and anything outside the five districts. As time passed and King Henry expanded West, the districts were diluted and weakened. The original goal of the districts grew hazy and unfocused, until the districts had simply become cities, with the Savreaux District now taking on the role of all the original five. Henry Savreaux's legacy continued with his sons.
The five district's government was born as the Orleans Order - a powerful government that while keeping the districts under heavy protection and offering food and water, did so with heavy taxation and an ignorance of the needs of the people. The soldiers wore scarlet uniforms with gold trim, accompanied by an experimental ballistic weave protecting them from smaller arms and sharp weapons; they're often equipped with laser rifles and pulse grenades. The people wore plaid shirts, jeans, and occasionally rags, equipped with pipe pistols and rifles. There was a sharp difference between the heavily armed, well-dressed soldiers and the working class.
The Orleans Order is led by King Louis Savreaux, the descendant of Henry Savreaux. A refined and sophisticated young man, he is well versed in art, philosophy, and culture. He has begun to demonstrate slight aversion toward the inset laws, and has opened up the doors to trade with the outside world for the first time in decades.
FRENCH REVOLUTION
The beginning of the "Reign of Savreaux" brought with it heavy opposition. The organization began after Henry Savreaux gained control of all five districts; born out of hatred for the new king, the general titling himself as "Napoleon IV" began the French Revolution, a scattered and unorganized group dedicated to overthrowing the king in favor of a democracy. Napoleon IV was hit hard by the new taxation laws and district changes; living in the Proulx District, poverty rates skyrocketed, and the Elk family were forcibly removed from their home and forced into the Uncharted Lands with many others. Their lack of caps prevented them from finding a new district to live in, and they were forced to begin a new life barely scraping by, living in several primitive huts along the river.
Napoleon IV was born out of the ashes of Joseph Elk. His hatred drove him to begin the hidden organization under the nose of King Henry, and he began to work hard to let it grow. Napoleon infiltrated lower-class districts like Proulx and Millot, rallying up the people with his charisma and heart. He told them his story; reminding them of what life was like before Henry Savreaux became a monarch, of the personal touches each district had, about how a man could move from one city to the other with ease, about how the soldiers didn't occupy the districts for defense and each had it's own personal police force. His organization's numbers grew as the years went by.
The man's organization gradually grew violent over the years, spiraling out of his control. It began initially as peaceful, simply intending to rally up the people - but as Napoleon IV grew older, his vision for a Democratic Orleans seemed to be slipping away and he intended to see it happen in his lifetime. The French Revolution began attacking Order troops and outposts in the West and Uncharted Lands, burning the remains and snatching the supplies that didn't become ashes. The French Revolution became a serious threat to the Order, and so, the two began a long running civil war, creating serious unbalance in the region that would hurt everyone; the poor districts, as Order soldiers began cracking down and going harder on military force to prevent the organization from growing, and the rich districts, as Revolutionists bombarded the district with explosions and gunshots to bring down the walls.
The two groups would fight for years to come; roughly seventy years have passed since then, and the two organizations are on the verge of total annihilation. The French Revolution saw countless leaders after the passing of Napoleon IV that would lead the organization to become the mysterious, powerful, and dark group it had become, with it's heavily armored and combat skilled troops; the Order would see several kings pass it by, and their soldiers began to grow stronger, receiving heavier training and improving in marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat skill, even receiving new uniforms with a specially-designed ballistic weave, allowing them to display their nobility while still being a strong force.
The French Revolution gradually began to gain outfits and uniforms of their own; a set of black riot gear, common in the Uncharted Land ruins due to the heavy civil strife and general chaos before the Great War. The black riot gear was also commonly used in Los Angeles, and was utilized in the West as an elite NCR armor accompanied by a brown duster. In the French Revolution, however, the riot gear lacks the popular duster, due to the fact that long, flowing capes and jackets tend to get caught in the thick bogs, rivers, or animals lurking around. The common gear for a Revolutionist was a Stun Baton, issued out by the government as a crowd control weapon, a Plexiglas bullet-proof riot shield, or an assault rifle. Due to the fewer numbers than the Order, they're able to equip their soldiers far better.
The French Revolution is led by Napoleon V, a young woman dedicated to the cause of the Revolution and old world values. Napoleon V is an expert marksman, astounding in hand-to-hand combat, and a great battle tactician.
GUILD OF VOODOO
The Guild of Voodoo was founded almost sixty years ago by Dr. John Laveau, the head of the Advanced Systems division the The Institute of the Commonwealth. Dr. John abandoned the Institute out of a mix of disgust and fear, uncovering the dark secrets building it's foundation - the betrayal, the experimentation, the kidnapping - and traveled along the Eastern coast with a group of his twenty loyal scientists that were eager to begin their own Institute, a bastion of hope and technology, filling the role that the original Institute was meant to fulfill before it became corrupted by a series of poor directors and disgusting scientists. Dr. John's absence was covered up and coursers were sent to hunt him down, but they never did find him.
The doctor ventured through the Capital Wasteland, sneaking past the Brotherhood of Steel patrol and hostile super mutants; through the Tarhell filled with bubbling pits of tar and glowing ones; skimmed the Everglade, a hellscape so dangerous and disgusting that he would never speak of it for years to come; to eventually land in the heart of the flowering civilization of Orleans. After losing 16 of his men in his voyage through the wastes and losing an eye to a mutant, he was eager to settle down. Lucky for him, it was there that he fell in love with both the culture and people, and found a wife to call his own, a young Creole woman.
It was then that he and his group began a gradual reawakening of Institute technology, using the natural resources of Orleans to rebuild - finding key components in a variety of moss, rock, wood, and animal remnants, surprisingly. The original location for the Guild of Voodoo was located in a small wooden hut along the Mississippi River, filled with clean, white bones and intoxicating plants. The people of Orleans began whispers of Dr. John, working voodoo in his little shack along the river with his mysterious followers. Dr. Laveau fell in love with that claim, and adopted the name of the Guild of Voodoo, dressing his followers in long, flowing clothes and skulls.
As time passed, the organization grew, eventually leaving it's old base of organization in favor of a new one; a place that no one but several high ranking members of the Guild of Voodoo are fully aware of. As decades passed, and their technology grew stronger, the mysterious magic began to become more prevalent. The ability to change their face at a moment, though a highly advanced facial mask that could shift it's structure and color. The ability to hover, using technology based on scrapped Eyebots and Mister Hanfys. The ability to teleport, a common ability that allowed members of the Guild to travel back and forth from their compound, and resulting in very few followers actually knowing where the base is.
The Guild of Voodoo abandoned some of the Institute's old ways - their complete disgust of the wasteland, for example. The Guild of Voodoo made sure to remain on good relations with the common people, occasionally visiting districts and offering intelligent people entrance into the highly secretive guild or simply demonstrating the power of the Guild, in order to keep the mystique of Old Orleans alive in the new apocalyptic world. The Guild of Voodoo also regularly sends out scribes to pick through the ruins of the Outer Region outside of districts, looking for advanced technology to dissect and use for themselves.
The Guild is currently lead by Marie Laveau, the granddaughter of John Laveau. The twenty year old is just as intelligent as her grandfather, and rumors circulate through the wasteland that the Guild is pulling the strings behind the Orleans Order.
SUPER MUTANT TRIBALS
The super mutant tribe began a century ago, after several wandering super mutants from the Commonwealth traveled along the coast, eventually stumbling into the Glowing Bog of the Bayou Wasteland. The super mutants, lost and alone, found a small clearing in the Glowing Bog and decided to call it home. The super mutants began a primitive, tribal life style, akin to the tribals wandering the wasteland. The super mutants formed several huts out of wood and hardened mud, created a large fire to keep them warm and cook their food, and began crafting basic tools and weapons - finding suburban areas covered in swamp, and using the materials from swamp covered stop signs, cars, and houses to develop weapons. As time passed on, the super mutants seemed to grow more intelligent, eventually matching their brethren in the West Coast.
The Glowing Bog was the perfect home for the super mutants - they were unaffected by the heavy radiation coating the bog, they were large enough to tussle with the creatures lurking around, and were intelligent enough to start a basic lifestyle. It became a popular home for super mutants from the Commonwealth to come to. The super mutants gradually formed their own society, and before long, had a basic primitive schedule going - the super mutants began the day eating the scraps of yesterday's hunt for breakfast. Several super mutants would leave the camp, heading to find suburban areas to bring back supplies, while super mutants at home would tinker. The night would end off in a mighty hunt, as twenty parties of two armed with spears, clubs, and crossbows would leave to hunt for food for the tribe.
The super mutants are known to occasionally leave the Glowing Bog, heading out to trade with the outside world or even integrate themselves into society with their expanded intelligence. The Orleans Order may be unpopular with commoners, but they're far from xenophobic, and allow super mutants, ghouls, and synths to house themselves in districts as long as they have the caps. The super mutant tribe is the main source for most super mutants in the Bayou Wasteland - while they don't dip people like the Capital Wasteland do, considering it barbaric, the tribe regularly grows in size and falls as super mutants join the tribe and others scatter across Orleans, some taking the role of mercenaries, citizens in districts, gulf marauders, or merchants.
The current leader of the super mutants is the ancient behemoth Bastion, the last of the original super mutants that traveled there. Bastion is wise and peaceful, unlike the common violent behemoth.
GULF MARAUDERS
The gulf marauders have been pillaging and looting the gulf for longer than Orleans had been civilized; most originating from the Everglade, the gulf marauders are groups of unorganized and vicious pirates, assaulting small towns, gutting them clean of valuables, and leaving few survivors in their destructive wake. The marauder's ships are often specially designed for raiding, allowing them to propel themselves quickly through the water with low-yield rocket thrusters and defend themselves from cannon fire from other marauders with their steel plating. The marauders also tend to have a rather large cache of weapons and ammunition on board for raiding and defending.
A marauder's crew is usually made up of outlaws and criminals spanning the entire country - whether it be ghoul or super mutant, the marauders don't particularly care, so long as they've got good marksmanship and lack any sense of morals. Among the legendary marauder crews include the "Last Order," ex-soldiers of the Orleans Order that wear their scarlet and gold uniforms albeit bloodied and dirtied, known for their particular distaste toward Orleans, "Nero's Legion", a group of ex-legionnaires that have fled to the sea, known for their gruesome crucifixion method, and "Master's Vengeance" a group of old super mutants, known to abduct people to dip in their FEV vat on board.
The gulf marauder's captains tend to be made up of vicious and powerful beings, charismatic enough to rally their members and violent enough to demonstrate superiority and order. The more popular captains are "Strong," a vicious and powerful super mutant from the Commonwealth that kills any crewmembers demonstrating disobedience, "Bilgewater" a ghoul that seems to snap between normal and feral enough to terrify his crew, and "B3-984", a decaying Gen-2 synth that lacks emotions, with a capability of slaughtering children for standing in his way. The captains often wear heavy armor and helmets, in order to protect themselves from the ample amount of mercenaries and assassins after them.
The gulf marauders are infamous for their habit of attacking seafaring trading vessels, but the trading ships have gotten to work to become better at defending themselves, incorporating heavy artillery and ammunition in order to keep the ships at bay while they trade. A popular trading outpost in Orleans is filled with trade ships, after King Louis opened his doors to them after long years of his fathers keeping them closed. Occasionally, a gulf marauder will cross across the waters holding the trade ships, but the Order soldiers quickly dispatch them with their heavy artillery cannons and precision laser rifle shots, even occasionally sinking a ship.
The Gulf Marauders have been pushing toward the districts as of recent, causing King Louis to fear the worst. He's recently been focusing on expanding the navy of the Order in order to keep out any unsavory visitors.
BESTIARY
Sawtooth - The famous, legendary "Beast of the Bayou." The ever renowned "Sawtooth" is a highly territorial, aggressive, and intelligent predator, known to lurk in the lurching waters of the Glowing Bog and Mississippi River. The monster is known for it's highly protective and resistant hide, capable of withstanding hails of bullets, walls of flames, and laser and plasma shots. The mysterious clawed "alpha predators" of the Northern areas have made attempts to migrate farther South into the bayou territory, but Sawteeth drive them out quickly. The creature relies on the sole crushing power of it's jaws over claws, and have a tendency to dismember and devour prey underwater after dragging it. The Sawtooth is lightning fast with quick reflexes, and it's powerful eyes are capable of clear vision in both the water and at night.
Boglurk - The Boglurk is the bayou's answer to the Mirelurk; a territorial, cow-sized turtle. The massive shell of the Boglurk is highly resistant to almost all forms of weapons, but the exposed limbs and head are spongy and weak. The Boglurk are primarily non-hostile, lazily lying on the banks of rivers or bogs, but if they've decided a certain area is their territory, then a wanderer will have to be careful. The jaws of a Boglurk are scarily powerful, but their speed on land is their downfall - easily outran by even an injured human. In the water, however, one is truly a force to be reckoned with, swimming with high enough speeds to chase down a fanboat. The Super Mutant Tribals take advantage of this and often domesticate them as mounts, riding them down rivers and streams of the bayou.
Basilisk - The heavily irradiated wasteland snake - roughly the thickness of a small tree trunk, and reaching twelve feet in length for an adult, the Basilisk's highly dangerous and venomous fangs can induce heavy peaceful and happy hallucinations to fog the mind and let the prey relax, allowing for a Basilisk to quickly take it's favorite method of execution. The Basilisk coils around it's dazed and hallucinating victim, producing countless small scrapes on human skin with their rough, barbed skin, and tighten their grip - once the prey has been sufficiently suffocated, they begin their slow digestion as they fit the entire prey into their body. The Basilisk has a tendency to coil around tree trunks and branches, their skin camouflaging them, and striking from there.
Luciole - A tranquil, large insect, the "Luciole" tends to lazily drift around the Glowing Bog, occasionally sipping from the murky water depths. The irradiated Luciole provide light sources at night in the Glowing Bog, their colored backsides glowing with shades of green, coating the surrounding area in an eerie green glow. The Luciole are often referred to as "Will-o-Wisps" by the locals, for are known to cause accidental deaths; often leading travelers to larger predators, such as Sawteeth or Snappers, due to their natural instincts to follow large bodies of heat. The corpse of a Luciole persists with the glow even after death, and are commonly used by the local super mutant tribes as light sources attached to twigs, creating a primitive form of lanterns without the need for fire.
Bleeder - A fat, poisonous black worm with sharp teeth; known to lurk deep in the depths of the Glowing Bog amongst other undocumented, mysterious and disgusting creatures, the "Bleeder" is known to latch onto errant creatures swimming through, administering a thick sedative venom from their small fangs, and quickly drawing high amounts of blood from the dazed being, leading them to become more hazy and distant, and often resulting in the death of the prey. The Bleeder is often used by doctors in districts, procured by mercenaries and Order scouts, in order to calm their patient with the sedative venom before proceeding with surgery. The super mutant tribals have skin too thick to be pierced, and often utilize them as tasty snacks before dinner.
Winglet - The "Winglet" is a small, powerful creature, with an expansive wingspan and coated in fur, said to have mutated from the bat. The Winglet is well known for flying through the skies in Orleans, with Order and Revolution soldiers alike taking potshots at them to procure their highly valuable and almost velvet-esque fur, sometimes used in coats by the rich nobles in the Savreaux District. The irradiated bat is hostile, and their fangs seem to function almost as syringes, able to pierce skin and draw blood through them with relative ease, and as a result, the Winglet seems to have become an almost legendary figure despite how common they are, rumored by the suspicious people to be vampires that are in their bat form. Their meat is smooth and lean, with a slightly sour aftertaste.
Scamper - A small, common animal in the wastes - the "Scamper" is the irradiated evolution of a squirrel, known for being a common food source for the lower class people of the wastes. It's lean and easily available meat make it a food of choice for many settlements outside of district protection and the homeless in the poorer district. The meat is looked down upon by most nobles as a commoner food, and many feel disgusted just by seeing the meat.
Yao Gui
Mirelurk
Radstag
Bloodbug
Molerat
RULES
1. No godmodding, powerplaying, metagaming, etc. etc.
2. A post should be of good quality - depth, grammar, spelling, etc. etc. It should be at least 2-3 paragraphs in length.
3. Be respectful in OOC. You can hold as much spite as possible for each other in IC, but respect others.
4. You can control NPCs to continue a conversation along; but be mindful of it. It should be used to shorten four short posts from two people into one long post from one person. Keep NPCs consistent and in character.
5. You can kill any NPC. And when I say any NPC, I mean it - but don't go on mindless killing sprees for no reason, and have a good reason for why you killed him, not just because he looked at you funny.
6. No custom factions; the plot of the story is based around the five main ones, and more could potentially detract from the plot, overshadowing it in favor of a new one.
APPEARANCE - Boss stands at about six foot, even with a rather muscular frame and a set of dirty hazel brown eyes. His face looks like it might have been handsome once upon a time, but years of constant fighting have left many of his features scarred and battered. From his constant five-o-clock shadow to the way he seems to always have a fine layer of dust on his clothes, there isn't anything about him that doesn't look rough. Of all his characteristics though, the most memorable by far is the way his nose has been forever cracked to the right side - a permanent gift from a particularly “friendly” super mutant named Bo-jack. He keeps his brown hair cut short in no particular style and is rarely seen not wearing his armor. On one or two rare events he has been known to break out his “special occasion suit”, which is, in all honesty, just an old world fashion atrocity and the butt of many jokes among his fellow Caravaners.
PERSONALITY - Boss is a man who, like many, has a very shady past - but these days does his best to simply make an honest living, and because of this he is often closed off and reserved to those outside of his small group of friends. When he does interact with outsiders, often while on the job or trading, he can come off as harsh and almost cold - his words often blunt and to the point. Those that do know him however are well aware that most of this just stems from his extremely driven personality; when he's on a job or trying to barter it's all cold cut business - he will chase his goals like a madman. He's also known for having a fairly dry sense of humor and spouting out monotone sounding sarcasm - which again, doesn't help his personal skills while interacting with new people at all. When he is off the job and hanging around with his pals he is much more laid back and sociable. At least as social as he can be.
He's not the type to go out of his way to help those in need, but at the same time, when confronted with an actual moral decision he normally makes the “right” choice.
BIOGRAPHY - "Once upon a time in a Legion camp far, far, away a little frightened, confused boy who had just lost his mother asked his tormentors 'What's my name?' They responded, 'Nobody, Dumbass.'"
Nobdy was born in the far Northwest of Colorado in a wasteland very similar to the one he now resides in, both he and his mother slaves of a large Caesar's Legion training camp. Being a male slave in the culture that was the Legion made Nobdy a prime target for constant beatings and mistreatment, a fact that was no truer then on his eighth birthday when he was given a machete and sent to the training pits - a place slaves went to die in an attempt to “Better the future fighting force of Caesar.” Most slaves didn't survive the first few days of fighting that occurred in the pits, but those that did would only return time and time again until finally cut down in combat. Probably unsurprisingly this became an anger outlet for years of mental and physical abuse; many of Caesars Legions trainees fell beneath his crudely crafted blade.
This was his life for about eight years, his muscles growing strong with use as his body became equally scarred and broken. Around the time he was sixteen the last local tribes were conquered under Caesar's banner - and after that, it wasn't long before The Legion began pushing further West in yet another campaign of conquest. About halfway through his sixteenth birthday, his own large settlement began to move away, having apparently received orders to set up base further West.
Now, most people have never seen a Legion Camp pack up and move across the Wasteland but it is not an entirely organized process to say the least. Sometimes they cant take everything, sometimes they can't find everything they want to take, and then sometimes they just don't want to bother moving the cargo. Apparently Nobdy fit into the last category, a fact made apparent as the camp left with Nobdy still locked in a cage like an animal. Luckily for him the cage was made of thick wood-breakout attempts mainly deterred simply by the Legions presence. But now that there were no guards there was nothing stopping Nobdy from breaking out with his two bare hands.
His first few days of freedom were a complete blur - having literally never left the camp his whole life, almost everything he experienced was brand new and exciting. Even the vast number of things trying to kill him he found interesting. When he finally came to terms with the fact that he was now a free man, he just kind of... set off in a random direction, scavenging buildings along the way for loot, supplies, and tradable items. For about three years he made his way West without knowing it, arriving in the Chicaghoul area wasteland around the time he was nineteen. When he hit Lake Michigan he assumed he had reached the Ocean, which made him quit walking, turn around, and start walking again. It was just by chance that on his way out of the Chicaghoul Wasteland he met a man named Joseph Redfield. They'd met in a bar in some town called Bilgewater and needless to say, they hit it off over a few beers.
Redfield explained to Nobdy how he ran a caravan company, a line of business that could always use another hand holding a gun. Honestly, Nobdy took the job more out of curiosity then anything else - he and three other men were to transport two heavily packed Brahmin to a place called “Craterside City” the next day. Now three important things happened on this little adventure that made Nobdy decide to stay here, if only for a little while.
1. He got paid to kill people. And not just kill people, but kill people trying to kill and rob other people. Something about the work felt slightly rewarding. 2. It was the most caps he'd ever received in one sitting 3. It was the first thriving city he had ever seen-and with a pocketful of caps the world was his oyster.
For about twelve more years he continued to run caravans throughout the wastes, eventually building up quite a name for himself by word of mouth with other wasteland wanderers. By the time he was about to turn thirty two, he had survived enough caravan runs that he had more caps than he knew what to do with, a problem only made worse by his ever growing boredom of caravan protection - after all, one could only walk behind a two headed cow's ass for so many years before it got old.
Clearly wanting a change of pace he toyed with the idea of retiring, but he disregarded that thought almost immediately. He wasn't the type that could just sit still and grow old. No, he needed new adventures and experiences; while still raking in the caps of course. He was drunkenly explaining all this to an old caravan buddy, an eccentric toothless old timer who went by Creo Joe, when his friend recommended a change of scenery - he suggested Boss head South along what he called the Miss's river. At least that's what Boss was pretty sure he called it - Creo Joe had a habit of speaking... oddly,. It was only because Boss had known the man for so long that he could understand half of what he said.
After that Boss couldn't get the idea out of his head, and it was only a matter of time before he was doing his best to convince old man Redfield that the South was an untapped bounty of resources for the caravan trade. As far as Boss could gather through stray bits of information, not even their main competitors, the Crimson Caravan Company, had established trade routes there, and with the direct route the Miss's river offered, only a fool would pass on the opportunity - At least that's what Boss kept telling himself.
Eventually Boss actually believed everything he told Redfield, wholeheartedly convinced that the South was some sort of promised land. It reached the point that Mr. Redfield's main hesitancy in investing in the expedition was Boss himself, his once stalwart employee now seemingly hellbent on going South on some fabled adventure that, as far as Redfield was concerned, was just a death march (or boat ride, as was the case.) Finally though he relented when Boss made the irresistible offer to not only fund half of the journey himself but to map out the entire route - maps he would then turn over to Mr. Redfield upon his arrival back, an arrival they were both aware could take years or may very well never happen.
Zoey is a small woman, standing at five foot one inches with long blonde hair that reaches midway down her back and soft eyes that fluctuate between green and hazel.
PERSONALITY - Zoey is a quiet girl whom prefers her own company over the company of others due to her troubling past. She often stays away from people and tries to avoid making friends, but deep down all she really wants is a family and best friends to support her, as well as somebody to really love her. She does have a select few friends though, and those are the people she can open up too. When she is around her friends she can be more happy and funny, but she will never put herself at the centre of attention on purpose and will only be like this with those people. Motivated by a need for revenge and a hate for the King, she will pursue her goals until they are done. If talking to people she isn't close too she can often be sarcastic and snappy, or quiet and shy. It all depends on if you are a normal person or an asshole.
BIOGRAPHY - Zoey was born to two young parents living in the old city of New Orleans under the rule of the Orleans order. The parents were both young at 16 and 17, and by the time Zoey was barely two they had split up. The father took Zoey as her mother fell to alcoholism and couldn't handle looking after the child. Zoey's father taught Zoey how to shoot and write and read from the age of 5, teaching her more and more as she got older and shaped her into a fairly intelligent girl. One day when Zoey was 11 they were on a trip to another district too visit her alcoholic mother when they were both attacked by criminals and Zoey's father was killed. They left Zoey, and she was later picked up by some Orleans Order soldiers and after a few days she was handed over too her mother without much of a care about the child, they knew the life her mother lea. Life was much worse with her mother, she was bringing back strange men most nights and didn't seem too be like any of her old friends mothers who were kind and caring.
Skip two years to when Zoey was thirteen and taxes were raised again. Zoey's mother was struggling to pay the caps and she didn't have a job. Within a week of the taxes raised the young girls mother was now not only prostituting herself, but Zoey too. Crooked soldiers from the order came and visited the girl most nights, only allowing the girl and her mother to stay within the district walls because of the service they were getting. This continued for years as the taxes were ever so slightly raised higher and things kept getting worse and worse. When zoey was 15, the same soldiers that had promised to keep them within the district beat them and forced them out after tax was a few days late. They were moved outside the walls to a makeshift shack a mile or so out. The job continued, and the soldiers still came to her most nights. Sometimes they would hit her mother and steal what little the two had, the soldiers who were meant to protect them. They were barely making enough caps to survive on and so the way of life continued. This life led Zoey to gain a deep rooted hatred of the Monarchy and her own mother. The day she turned Eighteen she had finally had enough. She had been planning on escaping for a long time now, and on the night of her eighteenth birthday, as soon as the sun set, she took a pack full of clothes, food and water, and she went to leave. She was about to walk out the door when her mother stopped her and went too slap her for being so 'selfish' and 'leaving the mother too make money on her own'. Without thinking, in a moment of rage, Zoey pulled out a knife and stabbed her mother, killing her. She left the house and never looked back.
After a few days of travelling and searching, she snuck back into the walls and back into the districts. She lived on the streets for a while, making money they only way she knew how until a kind man found her and told her of the Revolution, a revolution he was a part of. She joined up, immediately becoming close to the man until he was killed in a firefight a month later. Now she looked up to Napoleon V, a great fighter, a great tactician and a great woman. Zoey looks up to her as something she could of been and still wants to be, following her lead with a loyalty she had never had with anybody before. Despite this though, she had still never worked up the courage to approach her. she found the 'French Revolution' and joined up, wanting revenge on the King for ruining her life.
OTHER - Don't be fooled by her lack of size and strength, the young girl is quick and agile and a good shot, she doesn't need to be up close to kill you.
NAME - Josh Thompson
AGE - 23
GENDER - Male
APPEARANCE -
Josh is a well built man standing at five foot ten inches, with get black hair and warm blue eyes.
PERSONALITY - Josh is a fairly laid back and chilled out person when he isn't on a Job. He is easy to talk too and Joke around with, for he thinks anything can be made the subject of a joke, and he doesn't care if he offends people. He loves to drink at bars and have fun, weather that fun be hunting creatures or getting drunk. When he is on a Job though is attitude changes, he is focused and merciless while doing his work and will stop at nothing to finish off the Job.
FACTION - Whoever pays him the most; mercenary.
BIOGRAPHY - Josh was born in 2286 to a scribe who worked with the brotherhood of steel in the commonwealth and a merchant man from diamond city. The dad didn't stick around with him and his mum, and so he grew up with her at some of the various brotherhood bases in the commonwealth. He was taught from a young age the ways of the brotherhood, to have no mercy and to kill to survive. As he got older he trained alongside his brothers and for a short time from the age of 17 until he was nearly 18 he fought with the brotherhood. Throughout his year of actual fighting in the brother hood Josh and his friends were mostly tasked with extermination missions. He would drop in with one or two of his comrades into a super mutant camp, and they would tear through the green beasts until there was nothing left. Most of the time these super mutants didn't stand a chance against the three knights in power armour, and things were way too easy for Josh. He was getting bored, he wanted to fight in great big battles, kill death claws and leftover synth scum. Life carried on like this for the best part of year until two weeks before his Eighteenth birthday. A considerable force of super mutants had banded together and lead a surprise assault on a forward operating base that him and his two best friends were manning. It was only them and some scribes at the base.
What Josh had longed for had finally come, a battle. But it wasn't what he expected. Even with three sets of power armour, the supermutants were overwhelming. The brave brotherhood soldiers defended the base with the help of the scribes for hours before the mutants broke the perimeter and charged. The scribes were all killed, and so were his two friends. Josh retreated into the base and fought by himself for another hour with just his minigun, until brotherhood reinforcements arrived and saved him. They took back the base and he returned to his mother on the prydwen. Josh was given medals and commended for his bravery, but soon enough his high became low. His friends were dead, and he lost the need to fight, lost the want to fight. For another year he thought with the brotherhood, and nothing of interest happened in that year. No battles, just small missions. He felt worse and worse everyday and spent his free time at bars in diamond city. Life bored him here, and he was looking for another occupation, something more exciting, something that didn't remind him of his dead friends everyday. At a bar in diamond city Josh was told of Orleans and the recent unbalance in the region. He left his mother a note and left the brotherhood, taking his skill and training along with him as he left the commonwealth in search of Orleans.
When he arrived, he took advantage of the recent unbalance in the region and hired himself out as a mercenary. Not once has he failed a Job, even if it took him weeks to finish, and so the young man made a name for himself in the area, working for anyone, to do almost anything. In the city he recovered from his personal problems, becoming the fun and laid back man he once was, although his deep rooted racism and hate for the super mutants carried on.
Carson wears a suit of battered Enclave combat armor with the insignia removed under a worn grey greatcoat. He also wears a Soviet Army officer's cap. Fond of cigars.
He is equipped with an AK-47 assault rifle and a Walther PPK handgun.
PERSONALITY - Carson is a man who speaks little but sees much. He rarely loses his cool, having learned long ago that emotional displays can cost you your life. He is well-read, especially in pre-war politics and history gleaned from the Enclave's records. An experienced commander who has led troops in battle, he is adept at battlefield tactics and strategy.
His main, glaring weakness is his residual prejudice towards Ghouls and Super Mutants that often loses him allies and opportunities he could otherwise have enjoyed. The nature of his missions out and about in the Wasteland have somewhat eased these, but old habits die hard.
FACTION - Enclave
BIOGRAPHY
Tom Carson is an agent for the shadowy organization claiming to be the inheritors the the Pre-War US Government. The Enclave's last major defeat at Adams Air Force Base had sent them into hiding, and have since been quiet. Many doubted that a faction that had survived the Great War had entirely disappeared after a couple of conventional military defeats.
Carson was born in 2271, into a family of Enclave soldiers in Raven Rock, north of Washington DC. Although only young when his people suffered the devastating defeats at Raven Rock, Project Purity, and Adams Air Force Base, Carson remembers them well decades later. The journey away from the victorious Brotherhood of Steel cost them many lives, and they endured much hardship.
Details are sketchy after that. He served in many places, defending the Enclave's interests from San Diego to Seattle and anywhere else in between, rising to the rank of Major.
In 2301 Carson was assigned to the mysterious External Security Bureau, who put his skills to good use. Taking on a cover as a rootless mercenary Major Carson has acted as the eyes and ears on the ground, far away from any support or backup from the Enclave.
In 2309 Carson was given a new mission, codenamed Operation Methuselah. It seemed simple. Take a team of operatives and civilian boat to the coastline of Orleans and gather as much intel as possible on the political, military, and social structures therein. To what end? Major Carson didn't know. He never knew. But he would do his duty nonetheless.
So now Carson finds himself ambushed by raiders off the coast of Orleans. Under fire and in a damaged boat, it looks like his mission is over before it began...
APPEARANCE - Stunningly handsome, in a homely sort of way. Marty insists that he was far better looking when he was younger, but the truth is he has never been an exceptional looker, only exceptionally good at acting like it. Nowdays, Marty is getting on in years, belied by the wrinkles on his tanned, rugged mug and the aches in his bones. His male pattern baldness thankfully didn't end up affecting him much once it set in, thanks entirely to the fact he'd donned a buzz cut since his twenties. Marty's most redeeming physical feature, and the only one yet to have left him at all, is his eyes: the brightest blue most have ever seen, and somehow as sweet as an old grandma's at the same time as they were as exciting and impassioned as a man's less than half his age. The eyes are the window to the soul, and Marty's soul is eternally young.
PERSONALITY - Loudly jolly. Marty seems to be damn near incapable of experiencing any emotion except for utter bliss, and no one who has known him for any length of time could recall a moment he looked a tick any sadder than a sympathetic frown. Marty's limitless emotional resilience—well past the point of stubbornness—has won him a great many friends and a great many more kindred spirits. He seems to look at the bright side of everything, up to and including the nuclear apocalypse. He's also a loud and proud partier, living every minute of life to the fullest and doing all he can to make sure the folks around him are smiling too.
FACTION - None. Marty's got an especial loathing for the Order, but he's not too fond of authority of any other kind either. He's not beyond dropping the occasional favourable remark about the Revolution, however, to keep on the good side of at least one of Orleans' main tigers.
BIOGRAPHY - Marty's parents were drunk enough when he was born to think the name 'Marty Graw' was clever. The couple went on for the first several years of Marty's life exactly as they had for the couple years before he'd been born—stealing whatever they could, hocking it for what they needed and partying with whatever they had left over afterwards. Marty's parents never really sobered up until he was age 10, when his Dad, James, took a piss in the river just a little too close to a Boglurk. With her lover dead, Marty's mother, Ynes, decided to take the first boat out of town. She ditched Marty in the streets of the Millot District, and that was the day the young boy Marty Graw became a man.
Marty's first job was in his father's footsteps: petty theft. He stole, cheated or begged for what he needed to survive, in reverse order. Unlike his parents, however, Marty had a few braincells to rub together; whatever caps he had left after getting himself food and a place to sleep, he saved (excepting only occasional drug binges). By the time he was twenty, Marty was a relatively well known rogue in Millot, which was of course unambiguously horrible for him—besides that he'd already slept with all of the ladies in town who were worth it, he was also getting a reputation with the assholes in the red outfits. So, to celebrate his 21st birthday, Marty skipped town with all the valuables he could carry and headed off to Lambert District.
Once in Lambert, Marty decided to make something a little more for himself. Giving himself a promotion from pick-pocketing, he started doing odd-jobs for local criminal outfits, intimidating or robbing from no-good debtors, pulling heists, that sort of thing. Marty managed to both make himself a killing and keep himself under the radar for about two years, up until a botched job won him a grudge with a pissed off crime boss. A chem deal had gone south, and the two other guys working with Marty had gotten shot, Marty himself just barely escaping with his life, and neither the chems nor the caps. With no one else but two corpses to blame for the loss, the crime boss, Legrand, a fat bastard known for being especially petty, sent two of his thugs to Marty's apartment to either kick his ass half to death or trash the place. Lucky for Marty's priceless collection of rare Nuka Colas, he was home at the time, and lucky for his ass, he managed to put a knife into the forearm of one of the thugs the second he busted his door in, and and keep the other one pinned to the wall at gunpoint. Wise to the tight spot he was in, Marty sent the two beaten thugs back home to Legrand, and decided to do the only thing he could to both keep the (meagre) wealth he'd acquired in Lambert and keep himself from getting shot in the back of the head: he hooked up with the French Revolution.
Marty met a Revolution contact he'd both sold chems to and shared a night with in the past, Marie Rose, and decided to tell her about his bind and his interest in joining the organization. Marie assured him that Legrand would keep off of him if he knew he was running with the Revolution, and so Marty's days as a revolutionary were born. Mostly it was a lot of the same thing he'd been doing, breaking into houses to steal stuff or standing guard somewhere important, except this time he was stealing military dossiers, not jewelry, and guarding weapons caches, not drug labs. The work suited Marty well enough, but he was suspicious of the cause. As far as Marty could tell, the Revolution was as authoritarian as the Order or worse, Napoleon holding all the cards and all of the group's underlings kept as out of the circle as they could be. Marty didn't have many other options for work, though, so he kept on towing the line right up until he saw he chance to drop it.
At least a handful of folks in the Revolution saw things the same way Marty did, Marie Rose among them, and Marty pulled a few strings to make sure that those kinds of folks were the ones that accompanied him on his very last mission for the French Revolution. The job was a to hit a group of Order soldiers out on patrol outside the walls. They were supposed to killed as quickly and cleanly as possible, and their weapons and uniforms scavenged off of them so that an infiltration op could be conducted later on. Marty's original plan was to hit the squad as told and rip off their gear, but then make off, using the disguises to head elsewhere with his crew, maybe start an independent town somewhere. Providence wouldn't have it, however, and before the Order patrol walked into the spot Marty had picked off for the ambush, they were called off elsewhere to some kind of incident along the Mississippi. As luck would have it, some flagrant with a run down party boat had overdosed on jet while cruising down the river, and the boat crashed into the riverbank quite a ways outside of town, with a full accompaniment of chems. After stalking the Order boys down and finding the boat, Marty came up with a Plan B on the spot: take the boat and get really, really high. A few shots ringing out into the Bayou was all it took, and the Order squadron, their scarlet uniforms only barely showing the blood stains, dropped dead in the muck. Marty and Marie would've been happy to party for awhile and then nick the suits and head home, but a third member of their crew, Eugene Zemurray, would've have it. Zem, as he liked to be called, was a communications technician for the Revolution, and had a different idea for what to do with the situation. With Marie and one other member of the crew keeping guard on the boat, Marty, Zem and the rest of the Revolution hit-squad hurried back into town to grab as much of Zem's equipment as they could. A few trips and a lot of really good excuses to patrolling Order dregs later, they had all of the equipment and a small generator to power it hooked up in the boat. It was still just barely seaworthy, and so, with a load of radio equipment, a few loads of chems, and a circle of friends, Marty set off in the boat that would become the Cajun Queen for the first time.
Twenty one years later, Marty looked different, but acted much the same. The biggest change was that he was no longer worrying about keeping under the radar, but rather keeping the radar—and all of the other bits and bobs aboard the Cajun Queen—in working order. His sporadic broadcasts of rock music and anarchist political commentary had evolved into a full-fledged radio show, and his crew had evolved over time, growing to become a little leaderless gang that Marty liked to call the 'Kindred Souls'. He was now something of a fugitive, although due to the pacifist nature of his objection to the Order, they were far too busy hunting down the French Revolution to worry about some chem-fuelled radio DJ. Marty's old enemies from Millot and Lambert were now long forgotten, and his all friends were all either off living happy lives somewhere else, or joining him on the Cajun Queen. Everything was well and things could only get better, just like always.
OTHER - Marty is a well-known radio personality, either loved or hated all throughout the Bayou Wasteland. He is the DJ of Radio Fantasy, a Blues Rock station, broken up with the odd remark from Marty—either recorded or live—about the state of events in Orleans and the Bayou Wasteland. Radio Fantasy broadcasts via the 'Cajun Queen', a souped up riverboat trawling the Mississippi, chock full of powerful scavenged pre-war military broadcast equipment, and decorated with emblems of Orleans, rock 'n' roll decals and more than a few embedded spikes and automatic turrets. Marty is not the only crew member of the Cajun Queen, having gathered together a small but tight-knit group of kindred souls with tech know-how, who are more than capable of handling both Her Majesty and Radio Fantasy in his frequent absences.
Fear me.
NAME - Nathan Crawford
NICKNAMES - Occasionally gets called Crawford.
ALIASES - Jack the Ripper; The Ripper
AGE - 39
GENDER - Male
SEXUALITY - Asexual
HEIGHT - 6’3”
WEIGHT - 165 lbs
BUILD - Lean & Muscular
EYE COLOUR - Emerald
HAIR COLOUR - Dirty Grey-Brown
SKIN TONE - Tanned
TATTOOS - None
SCARS - He has a small scar just underneath his left eye, and one that goes from his right shoulder to the middle of his spine.
PIERCINGS - None
FACIAL HAIR - He hasn’t got much in the terms of facial hair, just scraggly stubble, with each strand around three to five millimetres.
ATTIRE - Nathan wears Victorian-esque clothing, similar to that of which was depicted in the pictures of some of his books. You can be sure to catch him in the smartest clothing available, albeit not in exactly good condition. However, while he’s “The Ripper”, he reverts to wearing his old Vault jumpsuit, concealed by a heavy, black, leather duster. Meanwhile, his face is covered by a mismatch mask, created from different pieces of leather, in different shades of brown, with only two holes for his eyes, and a slit across the mouth for him to breathe through. To top it all off, he wears a battered, dusty top hat, with a triangular chunk missing from the back of the brim.
PERSONALITY - Nathan is cunning, deceitful, and sadistic. Turns out, being isolated from the rest of the world for quite some time has effects on your brain. He’s obsessed with Jack the Ripper, and being feared by all, that he’ll lie, manipulate and murder if it means he can have his dream come true. Of course, he’s incredibly good at hiding his “secret identity”, and he does what he must in secret so he can keep his good image sustained. This doesn’t mean he goes without his cock-ups, or occasional slip-ups, though.
Another “quirk” of his is that he can go into random bursts of rage, which isn’t surprising, considering he was lied to for most of his life. When he does this, he’ll often start off feeling slightly agitated, then slowly lose control, tearing up the place. Sometimes, the only way he can make it stop is to go on a killing spree, which he sees as “making a good thing out of something bad”. (Sick bastard.)
Crawford’s final quirk is that he can often go into full on, end-of-Alfred-Hitchock’s-Psycho, creepy-ass grin, followed by manic laughing. It often happens in public, and when it does, he has to rush to a secluded area. After all, it’s a little suspicious when a man just suddenly starts laughing like a maniac in the middle of the crowds, isn’t it? Even then, there have been a few close calls where he’s almost been caught. He’s trying to control both of his quirks, but it has so far proved ineffective.
FACTION - N/A
ALIGNMENT - Chaotic Neutral (borderline Evil)
BIOGRAPHY - Crawford spent the first twenty-three years of his live in Vault 68 - a twisted experiment, in which around ten to thirteen people were separated in sound-proof chambers, unable to see each other, completely unaware of each other’s existence. They were provided with only a bed to sleep in, food to eat, water to drink, and books to learn from. As well as educational books that taught them to read, write, and talk, they were provided with different fiction and informational books. The theme of Nathan’s was Jack the Ripper, the infamous Victorian murderer.
Once he’d learned how to do the three basics covered in his educational books, he began filing through the books, taking a genuine interest in them. He was amazed - the patterns in the murders, how Jack never got caught, and how the modern authorities couldn’t even fathom who it could’ve been. He was inspired, and he slowly began to plot his escape, being caught up in his own fantastic world of Victorian murder. And, one day, he did just that. He broke out of his cell, and went on a rampage, killing every last person in that Vault. How dare they lie to him; lock him away from the rest of humanity!
After that, he created himself some clothes other than his jumpsuit, and packed up his books and supplies, heading out. He exited the heavy, metal door of the Vault, and into the Hell that awaited him. He made it into the Savreaux District, and dug himself a little hole in the ground, which eventually expanded further underground and became his home. Inside, he pinned up pictures of different “targets”, and trained himself further and further with books and exercise. Once he was ready, he crafted himself the perfect outfit for his “Ripper” persona. Of course, he would have to wait before he could murder anyone, let alone the big targets. But his time is coming, and Orleans will fear The Ripper.
APPEARANCE - A man of average height, standing at about 5 feet 10 inches, and with an average build and weight of about 184 pounds. He has neatly trimmed and groomed black hair, with an equally neat beard. His face is completely free of blemishes, scars, wrinkles, or other marks or imperfections, and he is proud of it. His wardrobe consists solely of various color suits, as clean as humanly possible given global conditions, and a refurbished black bowler hat. He carries a .44 magnum revolver in a shoulder holster under his suit jacket, and has an accompanied pack Brahman laden with various items for sale.
PERSONALITY - A sly, cunning trader, Franklin is always doing his best to con people out of every last cap, usually without them ever realizing it until it is far too late. When speaking to potential customers, he is always polite, charismatic, and quite friendly. However, when threatened, shouted at, or otherwise receiving of hostile actions, he becomes cowardly, ducking behind his larger bodyguard, and only fighting as a last resort.
FACTION - Plans to manipulate both for the gain of himself and his partner.
BIOGRAPHY - Born in a lost-to-the-ages vault, whose experiment was to raise thieves, scum and other lowlifes in a high-class setting, Franklin was sleazy from the start. When he was 10, he managed to con just about every other kid out of their favorite toys, and only gave them back when they banded together to beat him up. By 15 he was constantly "obtaining" malfunctioning vault equipment and attempting to return it in "good-as-new" condition for a reward. By 19 he earned himself a one-way ticket to the wasteland, when his one of his cons cost a security guard his life via a broken 10mm pistol. Once exiled from the vault, he took to wandering the wastes, conning people out of their best equipment, and running for his life when they caught on. After several years alone, he found himself a true friend in his current bodyguard, the man simply known as "Scar". Together they continued their travels, Franklin parting people with their hard-earned goods, and Scar stopping them from killing Franklin with a simple cracking of his knuckles and a glare.
OTHER - His pack brahman is laden with various broken, malfunctioning, or otherwise useless products that have been reworked to appear as high-quality goods. From overheating laser rifles, to stimpaks with fake needle tips, he has everything he needs to begin conning the Bayou wasteland out of every last cap it owns. NAME - Known as "Scar", real name unknown.
AGE - 24
GENDER - Male
APPEARANCE - A large, burly man, at an impressive 6 feet 7 inches, and a whopping 245 pounds, Scar is a mass of tough sinew and muscle. His nickname comes from the large scar running down the left side of his face, narrowly missing his eye, and ending at the tip of his chin. He has stubble in place of head hair, and a gold left front tooth. His attire is mainly a rugged leather jacket with the left sleeve missing, a black long-sleeve shirt under that, black denim pants, tan combat boots with an occupied knife sheath, fingerless leather gloves, an ammo bandoleer, and a pouch bandoleer. He carries a light machine gun chambered in 5.56 caliber, with a .45 caliber handgun as a sidearm. He also keeps a pair of brass knuckles handy.
PERSONALITY - Gruff, crude, harsh, just to name a few traits. He's the epiphany of every mercenary, raider, and bounty hunter stereotype rolled into one giant package. He'll sooner punch your lights out for helping him than say thank you, then beat you again for apologizing. The only person he doesn't show any sort of contempt for is Franklin, though nobody BUT Franklin has any clue why.
FACTION - Franklin and his cons
BIOGRAPHY - Born in the raider-infested hellhole that is Detroit, Michigan, Scar grew up with death all around. His father killed his mother when he was 6, taking him to run with a raider gang. By 10, he had killed at least 5 people, and by 15, his father was part of that list. After that, he left, wanting to find a life where he could do things besides killing. Not much is known about his wandering, though there is one tale about him that both him and Franklin love to tell, and that is how he earned the scar that gave him his name. He was in the ruins of Indianapolis, when a deathclaw charged him and his small band of allies. Two of the four were slaughtered in a single swipe of its claw. Even after unloading an entire ammo box from his machine gun into the beast, it still charged on. So Scar did the impossible, he drew his knife, and charged right back at it, screaming at the top of his lungs. According to the other survivor, and a few other scattered witnesses, Scar ended up killing it with just the knife and his hands. The only supporting evidence is the large gash running across his face, and the severed deathclaw hand Scar keeps on his person. Shortly after, Scar would meet up with Franklin, and the two would become inseparable allies from then on.
I'll be making a general "introductions" post, beginning with "CHAPTER I" and that'll just start up the whole thing - either tonight or tomorrow, at minimum.
As a side note, posting the first IC post now. Sorry that it's a bit of a mess, but I had to type this out on my phone, which was a complete pain - but it introduces every leader to the wasteland. Planning on making a character post for each.
