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Birth Name: Shih Wu-Cheng _{(family name)} Daiyu _{(given name)}
Goes By: Dali Wu-Cheng

Allegiance: Vault 81 (estranged)
Occupation (former): Vault Radio Host, Scavenger
Occupation (current): Vault Exile, Scavenger, Traveling Radio Host

Race:
100% unmutated Human!

Sex:
Trans*, MtF

Age:
40

Companion(s):
Cvrie (Miss Nanny)

Inventory:
Traveling radio equipment
Pre-war clothes & Jewelry
Silenced 10mm pistol

Appearance:
When out and about, away from home and outside of the Vault, Dali wears expensive pre-war dresses, jewelry, and light leather protective gear. The dresses typically resembling oriental evening gowns instead of the more common summer dresses of the wasteland elite.

Dali, at home in vault 81, wears a standard Vault jumpsuit, with some slight modifications. On her feet, she wears comfortable matching slippers, as opposed to those garish boots, the cuffs are rolled up to allow (gasp) some of her ankles to be shown. Her sleeves are rolled up high on her arms, bunching up around her shoulders. She keeps her front zipper rolled down just far enough to give the illusion of a sizable bust, without exposing the falsity of that reality.

She maintains a near constantly perfected appearance, following several hair and make-up routines, as well as keeping her nails polished and painted and the few accessories and jewelry matching. Due to scarcity of such non-essential beauty products in the vault, she has learned to improvise with which products she uses, and experiments in order to maintain her consistent image. Some would liken it to witchcraft.

Lastly, as someone raised against the unquestioning nature of typical Vault citizens. Dali was skeptic of the Pipboy 3000, and it's ability to potential give the Overseer to view all her vital at any given time. So for her 10th birthday, she opted to receive a wrist-mounted Pipboy 2000, with no biolink.

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Personality:
Dali is just as much a progressive thinker as her parents. Already having a Chinese heritage that would raise eyebrows, her subversive attitudes regarding authority, capitalism, communism, and her philosophical waxing nature in general have almost certainly placed her on the Overseer's watch-list. She is smart enough to know that the radio is not the place to broadcast these views, unless she'd like to be assigned to the trash crew quicker than she could check the time on her 2000. Although, she is known to occasionally let her bias slip when delivering the news or current events.

Generally, she is slow to anger, and carries herself with a gentle, sophisticated demeanor that speaks of what she thinks without filter when she is around those she is comfortable with. She is someone who might talk for an hour about those subjects others may find 'pretentious' or 'absurd' with ease. Being completely comfortable with contemplating the asinine and appreciating outer beauty. Although she doesn't like to admit it, she is vain, and shows flares of materialism and occasional hypocrisy within her own philosophical and anti-authoritarian views, as well as an extreme sensitivity to her gender identity.

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Biography:
Dali's life was about as exciting as as you could expect of someone with dysphoria, raised by a couple of new-age retro-hippies, trapped underground with a bunch of people who had a general cultural disgust towards all things Chinese. To avoid the glares of her peers, and more often than not, her peers' parents, Dali mostly avoided those her age. For a long time, she was that quiet Chink boy sitting in the corner. Her only friends growing up were her parents, her teacher (who was also a self-proclaimed 'free-thinker' and friend of her parents') and the people on the radio, who sang of the loneliness she felt was reality at times.

Her mother, a musician, instilled in a young Dali the value of music and her father, a painter, the value of art. By the age of 15, she was something of an accomplished mixed medium artist, and capable of expressing her own ideas and perspectives eloquently to groups of her parents' friends.

Of course, at 16, she completely flunked the G.O.A.T.

But her in with the teacher landed her a position as an intern for the Vault P.A. and Radio system, and as the years passed, she began to dedicate herself to her work and examining her own life in adulthood. By 17, after years of being uncomfortable and presenting as overtly feminine already, Dali begun her transition. Being generally unnoticed by the Vault proper already up to this point, her transition was relatively painless.

The Overseer wouldn't allow a change to her birth certificate, but she started going by the name Dali, in a sort of tribute to the surrealist artist. Her parents' circle of friends, holding a few chemists and doctors were able to synthesize a few bootleg hormones under the Overseer's nose and conduct a few 'back alley' surgeries quid pro quo-- the quality of which would never match full pre-war cosmetic capabilities. But from then on, she felt more complete as a person-- even more so after becoming the official host of the Vault Radio a few years later.

Years passed, and Dali's life was relatively calm-- she of course, was always a bit of a nuisance for the more conservative Overseer-- but the pair settled into something of a 'friendly rival' relationship. With Dali playing unauthorized music she had found on a scavenging trip in the wastes or airing a story that made the Vault Leadership look bad, being punished, and eventually going right back to it.

This changed when the Sole Survivor entered the scene.

Rising tensions in the Wasteland caused Vault 81 to become more secluded than before. Factions grew within the Vault, with some wanting to close their doors to even traders, and other wanting to actively seek protection from the Brotherhood, the Institute , or even the Railroad. Violence escalated in areas around the Vault, and although the Sole Survivor never stepped foot in the Vault, in his mad quest to find his son, the question was always there. "Would he kill us all?" Overseer McNamara and Dali's relationship became strained. Dali was a rabble rousing journalist, causing people to ask unnecessary questions-- McNamara was an ineffective leader who couldn't even procure basic resources for her citizens--

The breaking point, coming around the time of the great battle of the factions, was the illness of Austin Engill. The idea of a mole rat infestation was enough to get some people seriously rebelling, while McNamara failed to find the root cause of the illness of the child, Dali dug around, reading documents on the Overseer's terminal, coming to the conclusion that Vault 81 was bigger than anyone had known. Broadcasting her truths across the Vault, without a hero to step up for the life of the child, Dali herself was able to organize a group to go address the mole rat problem and find a cure--

This truth practically drove the Vault to civil war. Dali, and many in her party, contracted the molerat disease that was largely benign to adults, to save the life of the boy. Also uncovering a Miss Nanny unit by the name of Cvrie, she took something of a liking to the scavenging radio host, and the two have been companions since-- with Cvrie synthesizing purer hormones for Dali, and Dali bringing Cvrie along in her expeditions for more music.

At this point, The Overseer wanted people gone-- but couldn't simply have a hero such as Dali removed from the Vault forcefully, people wouldn't allow it-- the woman had become a hero, saved the life of a boy, and uncovered an entire new living space for the Vault residents. So, when the call to send people to not only prevent the Brotherhood from returning, but also to ensure a steady supply of fusion cores-- a resource the Vault needed-- it become obvious what she needed to do.

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Name: Joseph "Joe" O'Connor

Allegiance: Gunners (former)
Unaffiliated Mercenary(current)

Race: Human



Sex: Male

Age: 30

Inventory:
Apparel

• Dirty T-shirt, jeans, boots
• Full Gunner armor set, though the green paint is mostly faded and the Gunner symbols have been scratched away
• Military rucksack, worn on back

Weapons

• Semi-automatic combat rifle with reflex sight and bayonet, slung over abdomen when not in use
• 9mm pistol, unmodified, kept in hip holster
• Two combat knives, one kept in sheathe located on chest, and one hidden in boot

Misc.

• 5.56 ammunition, 50 rounds
• 9mm ammunition, 20 rounds
• One fragmentation grenade
• Two stimpaks
• Alcohol (One bottle of whiskey, one bottle of vodka)
• 450 bottlecaps

Backstory:
Joe used to be a Gunner. He didn't take pleasure in the job, but it was something he was good at. That, and it kept caps in his pocket and booze in his belly. Things were going fine in the Commonwealth, he had been stationed in a more populated area. That meant there was almost always an income of food and caps, given willingly or otherwise. Until one day, a new recruit opened fire on a lone passerby, under no orders to do so. What came next could only be described as a massacre. One man took on what was basically a fortress, and came out mostly unscathed. The stranger took everything of value, leaving the once thriving station desolate. Joe alone survived because he was out on patrol, thus the meager supplies he now carries.

Afterward, Joe denounced the Gunners, angrily scratching the symbols off his armor. They were supposed to be elite, yet they were taken down by one man. Joe then became a wanderer himself, mostly shunned by civilization, due to the armor, which still looked like the standard Gunner green. He took what jobs he could get, he wasn't picky. He couldn't afford to be. One week, he might be saving a child for weeping parents, the next he could be taking those same people into slavery. As long as he got paid. And Joe always made sure to get paid.

His latest job was the protection of a wealthy traveling merchant. At one of his stops, he overheard a conversation about something that came over the radio. Someone was recruiting travelers from all over the Commonwealth, something about stopping the Brotherhood's return. Joe was ambivalent towards them. He was human, after all, and not hoarding forgotten tech. But the mission was apparently going to be risky, and risky meant a hefty payday. So, once his contract with the merchant expired, he set off in search of who put out the call.

Personality:
Joe is reserved, and values strength. He doesn't communicate much, except to negotiate a contract or bark orders when they pertain to the safety of his client. He is quick to dismiss someone who shows signs of weakness. While not particularly intelligent, he maintains a cool head under pressure. He thrives in the battlefield, making shrewd use of his supplies. Not prone to making friends, because caring about others in battle makes you sloppy, and being sloppy makes you dead.

He snuck his way into the store with his pistol, rifle, and a box of ammo. What happened next was nothing less than issue #64, "Ju-ju Jubilee" as he was firing off left and right into the ghouls as they came. He focused his fire on their arms and legs as he navigated around the gnashing mouths until he came upon IT. The holy grail, the sit itself and the silver Thompson.

He returned with his treasures to the eager ghoul who proposed that Bruce had what it takes to honor the mantle, having the conviction to brave the mindless threats for a trinket, surely he had the gumption to brave the truly dangerous monsters for the sake of saving the people. Thus, the silver shroud was reborn.

The first to face justice was Wayne Delancey, a murderer who would have had no trouble adding Bruce to his list, but his time with the ghouls taught him to strike first and leave Wayne disarmed before he could even draw his weapon. A disarmed foe is much easier to deal with as he left a calling card. Next came the pusher 'AJ' and his thugs. Three against one were not impossible odds but it certainly was more than Bruce expected as he laid down the next calling card. The suit protected him from any truly lethal wounds, but it taught him that upfront combat was not going to be his way, even as the Silver shroud. He had to out-think his enemies.

With the darker clothing and his natural agility, he optioned for a stealthier approach than alleyway shootings. He returned to the railroad for some supplies and with the next missions into the apartments of Kendra, he laid down a network of frag-mines in his stealth-boy passing. By the time any of her goons would come upon them, he was already up the next floor. There was an irony he found in bombing a bomber, but hand grenades were a much easier task than a drawn out gunfight.

After an instructed visit to Handcock, he was informed that time was being wasted on small scores when there were greater troubles in the making. The silver shroud needed to destabilize Shinjins base of power before it took a foothold and he became a credible threat. Bruce's next trip was to Bunker hill to face Smiling Kate. Fate was smiling as well as there was a merchant there making her rounds known as Cricket who had the most amazing weapon, an explosive Thompson called the 'spray-n-pray'. He traded her all of the weapons and armor he gathered from Kendra and her goons to possess the weapon which he immediately put to use.

One step at a time he approached, hugging the alley walls until he was within a stone's throw. He laid down a mine to prevent being flanked before swiftly retreating and approaching again to open explosive fire from the shadows of a different angle and using a car for cover. The wounded tried to flee at least far back enough to use some stimpacks, one fled back into the alley and got flung right back out from the explosion. The rest was a mop-up and he drug the loot from Mary’s crew to Bunker Hill to make a tidy profit. Leaving nothing but a calling card tucked into her bra line.

Next came North at Prospect hill, this time he watched and waited to see if he could find an opportunity. After six hours Camped across the street and a can of Cram it was finally time for North to catch some shut-eye. One of the guards had a pack-a-day habit, so he approached her from behind and dropped a pack, as she turned to pick up her treasure, he slipped around behind her and lobbed two baseball grenades into the window of North’s bedroom before flitting around the corner.
There was an explosion and a scream before he emerged from the other side of the building to open fire on the confused bodyguards. There was barely anything left for him to leave his calling card so he borrowed a combat knife off the guards and stuck it onto a 2X4.

On the way back to base, he caught a radio interruption where Kent was now in trouble, kidnapped to the Milton hospital for a final showdown. The silver shadow arrived, but he was armed to the teeth and not alone. No simple silver shooter was going to save who he was willing to call friend.

One by one he stalked the halls, dropping them as they came. Room by room he cleared the whole place until it was just him and an elevator. He shot out the lights and turned on his stealth boy for a dramatic entrance.
There was kent, on his knees in front of what could almost be mistaken for a supermutant. All eyes were on Bruce, not the darkened elevator he came from. He may be the Silver Shroud, but he was also a railroader.

Six guns opened fire behind him as he drew out his Silver typewriter and wrote his name up Sinjin’s gunarm, across his chest and down the other. A wonderful arc right around Kent’s kneeling position. The smoke cleared and the railroaders looted the bodies.