Lorelei Jones

Personal Information

Medical Information

Biography

Lorelei was born on June 30th, 2263 in Woodinville, Washington – a distant suburb to the sprawling, annihilated skyscape of Seattle. Her mother died in childbirth and her father, Ray, raised her alone. He gave her a shielded life out in the suburban landscape of Woodinville, allowing her to live a relatively carefree albeit hidden existence for the first seventeen years of her life. In this time, she learned many skills that would be considered ‘moot’ in the new world. She developed an interest in film, art, and literature during her youth. These interests manifested themselves into her lonely, but happy life by essentially enacting her to do anything she could to express herself. She’d write on the walls of nearby buildings, create strange sculptures around the house, and scrounge any holotapes she could possibly find.

Unexpectedly, at around age 17, Ray pulled Lorelei out of her shielded prewar-like existence, teaching her important skills, such as maintaining and operating a firearm, foraging for supplies, and other survival skills. She was unaware that his sudden shift in philosophy toward raising his daughter was spurred from a specific motive…Her father had become terminally ill, and kept it hidden from her. He knew very well that he had to prepare Lorelei for life on her own, now that his days were numbered. He continued to train her as well as he could, until he could no longer hide his illness and became bedridden for the next several weeks.

During his time on what would become his deathbed, Ray compiled a massive journal filled with instructions. He had no time left to truly prepare her for what awaited in a life without his protection, so he wrote everything he could – coordinates and directions toward promising homelands that he had heard of through the grapevine, personal anecdotes about the world outside of Woodinville, a handful of personal letters to his daughter, sketches paired with descriptions of various wildlife he had seen in his travels, and a number of blank pages meant for Lorelei herself to finish on her travels. The quality of handwriting and coherence on the later pages declined with Ray’s health, but he kept scribbling in that damned book until he couldn’t any longer.

Ray passed away a week before Lorelei’s 18th birthday. The book, which had turned out to be just short of a godsend, was not enough to pry her away from her home. She buried her father, had her own private funeral, and tried to remain in Woodinville for as long as she could. However, she could not stand to look at the buildings she had walked with him – the streets where they had happily explored, detached from the despair of the rest of the pacific northwest. Ray had left directions and coordinates on how to journey to the city of Las Vegas, where he presumed she would be safe, and she finally decided to follow them. She took his rifle, his pistol, as much food as she could, and headed south. However, she did not traverse the path he had intended, and wound up aimlessly following I-80 as it tossed and turned toward the southwest.

It wasn’t long until Lorelei learned why her father’s journal warned of I-80. She was ambushed and abducted by a group of terrifying-looking raiders inhabiting its surroundings, known as the “80’s”. They originally intended to throw her carcass onto an oven and cook her flesh for their own use, but Lorelei’s rifle caught their eye and for entertainment, they put her up to a vicious test. She would hit directly between the eyes on a mannequin they’d found, or she’d be flayed alive. Fueled by fear, instinct, and her father’s impeccable training, she landed a perfect shot and was inevitably rehabilitated into their ranks.

Lorelei had never intended on leading as evil and degrading a life as she would live; she assumed, from the way her father had made it sound, that raiding and pillaging was simply a staple of life in the wasteland. She became a remarkable fighter over her time with the 80s, integrating their toughness and astute sense of terrain into her own DNA. She could land shots from such an absurd distance that she began to make a name for herself – they began to call her “Blood Raven”.

Despite that Lorelei never truly gained a position of power, she became somewhat of a symbol. Once the 80s became egotistical enough to invade the outskirts of NCR territory, bounties began to pile up with the name “Blood Raven” affixed to them. She had become fully indoctrinated into this life – various artistic etchings had been burned onto her back and she wore fearsome red face paint. She looked the part, and she played it.

During her early adolescence in Washington, Lorelei had never truly learned nor understood the expression of sexuality. She learned quickly of its gravity during her life with the 80s, who turned out to be a rabid and free-spirited bunch, pursuing mindless gratification at any given moment. There was very little social construct – pleasure was pursued through any means, through any gender, and it warped her perspective of sexuality. Throughout her early twenties, she was pulled into this lifestyle of raiding and rampant pursuit of satisfaction, and inevitably, it presented her with an enigma – a child.

When Lorelei became noticeably pregnant, conceived by who-knows-who, the inevitable child began to generate hype among her region of the 80s. But in almost epiphanic-like manner, the prospects of bringing a child into the world she had found for herself flooded her with guilt. She fled her tribe and headed east, hoping to gain a great deal of ground before having her child. She knew very well that the 80s would be able to traverse an impossible amount of territory in very little time.

Lorelei only made it to Colorado before she had her daughter, who she named Rachel. She could not continue to travel with a newborn, so she settled down in a cottage outside the ruins of Silverton. She lived there with Rachel for four years and finally accepted that the 80s had either failed to find her, or neglected to follow her at all. However, she was unfortunately inaccurate. After four years, the reach of the 80s spread into Colorado, north of Legion territory, and they traced her to her home. While Lorelei spent a morning hunting for she and her daughter, a group of her former family set her home ablaze, and returned to the ashes of her life, her daughter burned alive inside. It ruined her attempt at a second life, and after a period of grieving, she continued east and shed off her old identity, going only by “Laura” for an extended period of time. She made it all the way to the Capital Wasteland, where she spent a few years in Canterbury Commons.

However, Lorelei became restless and bored and continued to the northeast, finding herself inside the commonwealth. She had spent a short stint inside Goodneighbor before hearing of a new development inside Salem. She felt that building something new would be her chance to disintegrate her old mistakes and forge a new persona, so she took the opportunity without so much as a second thought.

Name: John “Cook” Kaye

Age: 34

Race: Caucasian

Sex: Male

Skills: John’s foremost ability lies in his experience with the chem trade. Given the right ingredients, John can make most chems commonly peddled throughout the Commonwealth, along with a couple of homemade concoctions with rather unique effects. Given his career, John knows how to defend himself well enough in the wasteland, and can fire and maintain a firearm just as well as any other wastelander. On top of this, John has an independent interest in the inner workings of the human mind, though some of his theories and beliefs aren’t necessarily accurate.

Physical Appearance: John is a rather small and neat man- not at all what one would expect from someone in his line of work. 5’7 and a twig to boot, John hardly weighs over 100 pounds, and looks frail enough to be blown away by a particularly strong Radstorm. His poor health and chem use has left him with a rather pale skin tone, with his veins popping through his skin. Commonly seen with a bloody handkerchief to help keep his face free from the blood left behind by nosebleeds and coughing fits, John is not necessarily the picture of perfect health.

His face is dominated primarily by two features, his wild mess of dark brown hair which, when down, reaches his collarbone, and his sunken, somewhat off putting eyes. Sleepless and accompanied by bags, John’s eyes are almost entirely dominated by pupil- an odd side effect of his near-constant use of the chem ‘Breeze’. Aside from this, John has a rather common, if ever-so-slightly feminine face, with a fine nose, clear complexion, and wide mouth set with shining white teeth.

Personality: John, better known as Cook, is a rather aloof character, though not necessarily in an unkind way. Even though his mind is oftentimes somewhere else entirely, John values friends and relationships highly, caring relatively little for personal wealth. He thrives in larger groups and, above all else, enjoys bringing happiness to others. Sometimes this is with a joke or a kind word, but many times he accomplishes this by introducing people to the various forms of sin which he finds pleasure in.

The fact of the matter is that John is rather dependent on the chems that he takes. His chem use shields him from the pain of old wounds, both mental and physical. This can occasionally put John in a rather different state, sometimes turning him into a rather frightening individual, those these episodes are rare. Furthermore, his moral compass appears to be slightly off, by some people’s standards. His chem peddling has ruined the lives of many, but he denies any responsibility for this. In addition, he has shown his disconnect from what's right and what's wrong with his experimentation on his friend and slave Edgar, whom he has deeply affected for better or for worse.

Despite his chem use, John is a rather intelligent man. He has a love of pre-war literature, specifically poetry, and views the world through a somewhat romantic and tragic lens. The effects of long-term psychedelic chem use mixed with this particular world view can sometimes make for some… interesting hallucinations.

Possessions: A couple pairs of jeans and a small wardrobe of t-shirts, button-ups, and flannels. A somewhat intact tan pre-war suit, a pre-war diver’s watch, and an assortment of pre and post-war handkerchiefs. As far as weapons go, John has a well-maintained 12.7mm pistol, though he has struggled to find usable ammunition for it. John does not possess any armor.

Along with his personal effects, John has in his possession a small library of prized pre-war books, a number of pre-war medications, a cache of chems and their ingredients, and a respectable purse of caps to start his business up.

(Previous) Occupation(s): Chem cook

Faction: Unaligned

Backstory: Born in Megaton, John was the son of Harry and Margaret Kaye, a guard and seamstress, respectively. The younger of two siblings, John stuck to his older sister, Catherine, for the entirety of his young life, and grew rather close to her. Even as a child, John was sickly, and not expected to make it to adulthood without close care and an expensive medicinal regimen. While John is still unaware of the exact details of his illness, it appears to be a mutation involving his heart, paired with a bad case of gall bladder disease. No matter the details, John was subject to a great deal a ridicule from those his age in Megaton, picked on due to his sickly appearance and inability to defend himself.

Protected by his dear older sister, John struggled to adulthood with the aid of the local Doctor Hardin and a good deal of help. Too weak to follow his father’s footsteps as a town guard, John was left to forge his own career- a daunting prospect considering his lack of contacts and health issues. Thankfully, all of his time spent with Doctor Hardin had lead to one of his few friendships, and when John had some trouble finding work in Megaton Doctor Hardin took him on as an assistant and apprentice.

It didn’t take long for John to ruin this perfect opportunity, however. One day, out of curiousity, John stole away a small amount of drugs from Doctor Hardin’s stores- painkillers, at first. John’s entire body constantly ached due to bad circulation and other related issues, and these ended up doing more than take the edge off. John, as it turned out, had a rather addictive personality, the next few months would be a terribly exhilarating blur for him.

John stopped sleeping. The chems helped him with this- uppers when he needed energy, and downers when he felt like he needed rest. It hadn’t taken long for John to move from simple painkillers to nearly every enjoyable piece of the Doctor’s arsenal, and he loved every moment of those days. While it still remains a haze for John, it is clear that Doctor Hardin found out about his problem pretty quickly, kicking John out and causing his parents to disown him. Meanwhile, John’s sister, who had always been there for him, helped out once more. She herself had fallen in with the rougher crowd of Megaton, hawking Jet after dark and enjoying her youth.

In desperate need of money and hankering for a fix of anything to get his mind off of his condition, John used what knowledge of chemistry he had learned under Doctor Hardin to make his own chems. He picked up Jet in days- a skill which he would quickly perfect. Separated from the chems in the Doctor’s arsenal, John was quick to use his own product, starting an addiction which he still struggles with nearly twenty years later. His first experiments with producing other chems of his own creation didn’t go nearly as well, though this would change as John got more practice with his craft.

Before long, Megaton became a bleak place for John and his sister. The same old people, the same old rust, and the same old judging glances cast by those who disapproved of what they were doing. John and Catherine had established a small lab and home, where John cooked Psycho and Jet and Catherine sold it. Things were good for now- plenty of caps and enough chems to never come down, if one wished. However, inevitably, things turned sour when John made an honest mistake and caught the lab on fire- a fire which then spread to a nearby house and killed a young man within. It had been time to get out of that trap of a town anyway.

That night would later haunt John, but at the time he was too out of it to care. John and Catherine left with a couple of friends immediately, with everyone encouraging John to set up shop somewhere else and keep turning product out. Young, armed, and hooked on chems, the small group ended up just where you would expect them. Within days John was watching as his friends robbed caravaners of their goods and did what they pleased with them. The raider gang they had fallen in with swiftly fell under Catherine’s charismatic control, and John quickly built up his famous tolerance to witnessing acts of cruelty.

John’s next few years were a chem-fueled haze. Most of the time he stayed back at the gang’s base and cooked, both food and otherwise. He was comfortable, and he brought joy to those all around him through his craft. His sister and her underlings provided John with whatever he needed, within reason, and John had enough time on his hands to amass a small personal library, which he still sorely misses to this day. It was during this time that John developed what he considers to be his greatest (and only) contribution to this world- Breeze.

Breeze was a chem of John’s own creation. Powerfully psychedelic, it was unlike anything anyone in the Capital Wasteland had felt before. John had met his first and only love.

Eventually, his raider gang’s peddling of this new chem lead to a bit of fame within the unwashed circles of the CW’s raiders. A new age of prosperity came for John and his sister, paving the way for their entry into the slaver settlement of Paradise Falls, where the wicked lived like princes. John fit right in, or at least that’s what he told himself.

Here, John and his new concoction were welcomed with open arms and open purses. John quickly accrued a bit of wealth, and his sister, who turned out to be a frighteningly good slaver, followed suit. John’s lab was magnificent, albeit too large for he alone to operate, leading to Catherine’s giving her younger brother the greatest gift he would ever receive- Edgar.

Edgar was a brute of a man, well over six feet, built like a box truck, and horribly mutated. Catherine had picked the oaf up when she saw him being used as a pack animal by his caravaning father. As it soon turned out, Edgar wasn’t too much smarter than a pack animal either, but John still took to him quickly. Even though he felt bad for keeping a slave at first, he welcomed the company. Edgar was entirely unlike those that John surrounded himself with. He was simple, innocent, and untouched by the psychological horrors of the wastes, and John was fascinated by it all.

As John put Edgar to work around to lab performing more menial tasks, John started to theorize about just what he could accomplish with Breeze. Always possessing a flirtatious interest with the human mind and its treatment, John would go on to subject Edgar to chem-assisted ‘treatment’, attempting to mold the oaf into what John wanted him to be. It worked, in a way, with John eliciting an intense loyalty, but also commanding great fear from the man three times his size. John has done many things for Edgar since that day, both great and unspeakable. He helped teach Edgar things he was not during childhood, bettering his speech and understanding of the world. He even went so far as to teach him to read. However, he also meddled in Edgar’s mind in irreversible ways. He implemented ‘switches’, fabricated occult, chem-assisted lies to keep him in check, and completely brought Edgar under his personal control. Within a year, John had created a companion who was loyal to the death.

As the years went by, John became convinced that he would die content within Paradise Falls. He was surrounded by sin, but that was the only life he had ever known. Away from any medical help, John adopted a strict regimen of chemicals to help control the episodes his heart gave him, and from that day until now, John never went another day without at least some chem use. Eventually, disaster struck one final time for John when he fouled a batch of Jet, leading to three overdoses in Paradise Falls… one of them being his sister’s.

John was destroyed. He had killed his sister, the only person who he didn’t have to drug-up to care about him. The person who had given him everything. With Paradise Falls itself being threatened by increasing Brotherhood influence as well, John knew there was nothing left for him. On a whim, John took what he and Edgar could carry and hired a Talon Company soldier by the name of Steve Cooper to take him far away from the regrets of his past. As it turned out, Steve would turn out to be a major player in John’s new life, remaining his traveling companion for the next few years as the three continued to travel north. With all of them restless, they drifted from place to place. Quincy, Goodneighbour, Diamond City, and more. John introduced Breeze to the Commonwealth, albeit in smaller quantities than back home, which led to involvement with various raider gangs and even a flirting with Railroad operations before its destruction. Most recently, John, Steve, and Edgar all ran with the Dunwich raiders, living above the alien rumblings of those dark depths. However, it may just be time for all of them to settle down.

Eliza Weaver



Gender: Female

Real Age: 34

Age Appearance: Appears to be in her late 20’s to early 30’s

Birthdate: April 13th, 2256

Birthplace: Caliente, Nevada

Personal Evaluation

Occupation: Mercenary, specializes in high risk environments, asset protection/retrieval, search & Destroy, and intelligence gathering.

Work Ethic: Eliza dedicates every fiber of her being to the task at hand. Refusing to give anything less than 110% at everything she does. She’s garnered a reputation among the people she’s served with as being a loyal and dedicated soldier. Willing to sacrifice anything to accomplish her mission.

Experience: Former NCR soldier and officer, served with distinction in a reconnaissance battalion with multiple combat tours. Awarded the position as Company Commander and the rank of Captain for exemplary service to the NCR and it’s people. Went on to impress her superiors with her natural talent for leadership and combat, was being bred for Battalion Commander shortly before her departure from the NCRSR.

Organizations/Affiliations: Former NCR Captain, original founder and leader of the prestigious Rough Riders mercenaries, currently a freelance mercenary with recent contracts with the Commonwealth Minutemen.

Style: Eliza prefers to dress practically and cuts down on frivolous accessories. In her current state she tends to wear clothing commonly worn by standard Rough Rider mercenaries, with her own flare added for good measure. This consists of well worn t-shirts and tanktops, accompanied by a well traveled dark leather duster, leather slouch hat, and worn but well maintained leather combat boots.

Preferred Weapons: With few weapons systems being unfamiliar to Eliza she is capable of picking up nearly any weapon and making good use of it. Although she does have her tried and true companions. She carries a well worn but meticulously maintained Browning Hi-Power handgun that serves as her primary means of defense and attack. Although Eliza is particularly skilled at hand to hand combat.

Habits and Mannerisms: Runs fingers through her hair when she’s stressed or nervous, and smokes cigarettes when stressed or anxious.

Medical Evaluation
(still compiling subject’s medical records)

Ethnicity: American/Caucasian

Blood Type: o+

Preferred Hand: Right Handed

Eye Color: Light blue

Hair Color: Dirty blonde/light brown

Hairstyle: Hair is kept either slicked back, in a bun, or ponytail. Very rarely is it ever let down.

Skin Tone: Pale white with minimal tanning from prolonged exposure to the sun.

Complexion: Fair, usually burns, Rarely tans.

Makeup: N/A

Body Type: Mesomorph

Build: Strong athletic body type, muscular build, well-developed shoulders and slim hips.

Height: 5’9” (175cm)

Weight: 139 lbs (63kg)

Cup Size: B

Shoe Size: 9 ½

Birthmarks/scars:
3 inch scar front right of neck, cause; knife.
1 ¾ inch scar left outer Eye, cause; blunt force trauma.
Bullet Entry Wound front left shoulder, 2 ½ inches below collarbone, Cause; Gunshot, 9x19mm Parabellum round.
Bullet Exit wound upper Back Left Shoulder, 1 inch left of the spinal cord. Cause; Gunshot, 9x19mm Parabellum Round.
Bullet Entry wound outer left leg, 4 inches above knee. Travelled through the left leg and nicked the right thigh, clean entry and exit. Cause; Gunshot, 7.62x39 fired at close proximity.
Multiple Scars on back. ranging from 1 to 5 inches in length, consistent width. Have healed over time but are still visible and some of the deeper ones can still be felt. Cause; flagellation

Energy: Astonishing stamina, isn’t easily tired or dissuaded from completing a task due to exhaustion.

Senses: Heightened level of awareness developed from being constantly on guard. Is generally able to get a good read on people’s emotions through their body language and tone.

Addictions: Camel unfiltered cigarettes, recovering alcoholic.

Mental Disorders: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety, Dysthymia, Night Terrors, Insomnia, Nocturia, and Substance Dependence.

Attitude:

Stability: Relatively consistent, although she can and has suffered from emotional instability due to events that triggered a psychological reaction from her P.T.S.D and anxiety.

Expressiveness: Hides emotions deemed too personal from others. Doesn’t express her emotions too often if at all.

Biographical Summary

Eliza was raised along with her sister Charlotte by her mother and father in the rural town of Caliente, Nevada. Her mother was a merchant by trade and her father was a mechanic. When Eliza was 13 years old raiders attacked the town as they often did in their attempts to seize control of the towns valuable water purification systems. During this attack her mother and father were killed and Eliza and Charlotte were captured as trophies. Charlotte was only 3 years old at the time and was struggling to understand what was happening. Too young to rationalize what had just happened and too dependant on the care she received from her parents it was up to Eliza to protect her sister.

Unfortunately the raiders had taken a liking to Eliza. She was a wiry young blonde with an athletic build and an attitude just like her father. Too the depraved raiders it didn’t matter. They wished only to conquer their trophies. Eliza used this opportunity to manipulate them into leaving Charlotte alone, and instead focused all of their attention onto her. For the next 4 years Eliza was regularly and brutally raped, beaten, and starved. All the while her sister was being treated like a princess. She was fed, clothed, and left untouched. Charlotte even went so far as to call the raiders her “family.” She had happily left herself become lost in the fantasy. She was never made aware of the sacrifices her sister made to keep her safe, and the agony she endured for the hope that Charlotte would be let go.

Eliza had been raped so severely that her pelvis was shattered and she was unable to walk or even sit. At that point she stayed bound and chained to a pole, her legs slumped underneath her as she was unable to support her own weight. Her captures didn’t care about her injury and still continued to molest her multiple times a day. They only stopped when Eliza’s screams of pain became too grating to them. It was only then that they let her lay down and heal, except during this time of recovery she was still whipped and beaten, and was fed only scraps and slop. She had grown too weak to resist them even if she wanted to so now all she could do was submit and hope for her sisters release or her death.

Once her hip healed Eliza was returned to her same old routine as the gangs personal toy. It was relentless, she couldn’t sleep without having one of the raiders wake her up and rape he. Eventually Eliza had become so weak and frail that the raiders took notice. Fortunately for her she had become their favorite plaything so they started taking better care of her. She was fed more often, allowed periods of undisturbed rest, and could visit her sister more often. Their kindness did not come without a price however. Their abuse of her escalated sharply from here forward. She was choked until she passed out, bones were broken including her pelvis again, she was beaten into states of unconsciousness, and there were times that she spent days chained to a post unable to move or sleep properly.

When Eliza turned 17 she was traded to another raider gang along with her sister. During this trade the gang she was given to was attacked by the NCR and Eliza and Charlotte were saved. Charlotte was devastated, she missed her “family” and wanted to go back. Eliza couldn’t walk and had to be carried everywhere she went for the next few weeks. When she recovered enough that she could take care of herself the NCR gave her the option of enlistment and the ability to keep her sister. Or they would split them both up and put them in foster families. Eliza wasn’t willing to give her sister up. Even if her sister refused to accept the horrible things that were done to Eliza for her safety.

Eliza enlisted into the NCR military and excelled from the very start. She was driven to succeed, to forget about what had just happened to her over the last 4 years. To forget that her family was murdered and her entire childhood was ruined. Her own sister called her a liar, and wanted to flee back into the wilderness in search of the raiders they escaped. Once she finished her basic training Eliza volunteered for the Advanced Reconnaissance Course. She was told by her instructors that there wasn’t too many things in the NCR military more difficult than ARC. So Eliza naturally roze to the challenge, again she persevered the training was grueling and the stresses on her body and mind were immense but Eliza had suffered worse. She knew she could endure, she had to. Not just for Charlotte but for herself. She needed to prove to herself that she could be something. That what had happened to her would not define who she was. It was easier said than done, her body was left with countless physical and psychological traumas. All of which she hid from the military, to them she was fit and of sound mind.

It didn’t matter to Eliza that she was falling apart. She had completed the ARC, and was cycled into her first combat tour. She excelled in the field but the trauma she had sustained over those years with the raiders were exacerbated in the field. She ignored the symptoms and the pain because she didn’t see any other option. She needed the money she was paid to take care of Charlotte. To keep her fed, clothed and in school. Eliza never stopped caring for her sister even if it meant that she was killing herself in the process. Regardless she still was able to hide all of her conditions from the NCR and serve 6 years until she was promoted to Captain and Platoon Commander. This position paid her more and got her out of the field more often. Charlotte could never want for anything now, and Eliza was getting her ready to enlist as well. Hoping that with her sister in the military she could focus more on tending to herself.

Eliza was an excellent soldier and an even better officer. She showed a natural talent for commanding soldiers and struck up a great rapport with her platoon. Her superiors were so pleased with her success that they were grooming her for a position as a Battalion Commander. All those dreams and ambitions were dashed against the rocks when Eliza’s current Battalion Commander forced himself onto her. Even after all of those years she spent suffering at the hands of the raiders she didn’t fight it. Her body just shut down and she let it happen, the pain was excruciating though and Eliza’s screams would’ve gotten him caught if he didn’t strangle her before she drew any attention to what was happening.

When she came to she was laying on the floor of her quarters. Her pants undone and pulled down around her boots, her panties wadded into her mouth as an impromptu gag. She couldn’t get up from the floor her legs were too weak and her groin was on fire, as if someone had jammed a smoldering blade inside of her. Eliza couldn’t do anything but lay on the floor and cry. She was alone again, she was back to where she was as a teenager. She hated herself for letting it happen again. Even now when her service weapon laid merely a few feet from her. She could’ve shot him, she could’ve done anything to resist him but instead she collapsed to the floor and gave up. All of that fighting, all of those boisterous words, her bravado. None of it meant anything anymore.

Over the next few days Eliza tried to recover from what had happened. Choosing to ignore that it had happened and try to move on. It was impossible, she seen that man everyday. In every meeting he was there, and he knew that they shared a secret that Eliza would never tell because she was afraid of losing Charlotte, and losing her position. Everything Eliza had given so much for would be gone in an instant if she ratted out her Commander. He had too much influence and Eliza was afraid she would be called a liar if she spoke out. So she kept her mouth shut and took his menacing looks and let him pin her against his desk during their personal “meetings.” He had her broken again. Too afraid to come forward. This was her life now, the life she escaped found her again. She would wake up with him straddling her in bed. He didn’t care that the trauma from her past caused any sort of penetration to be extremely painful. He just crammed her mouth with her underwear or smothered her face with a pillow. What caused her crippling pain kept him coming back for more. It was almost every night, even during the day she wasn’t safe. He bashed her head off the wall so hard one day that she blacked out. When she came to her shirt was pulled over her head, her pants ripped and ruined from him savagely trying to remove them. She sat in a puddle of blood and contemplated killing herself. She was weak, she didn’t deserve the rank she held. If she came out the men and women she led would think she was weak. To her suicide was the only way to escape him but she couldn’t do it.

Eliza continued to accept the raping. At least he had the courtesy now to knock her out, or use a different entrance. Apparently what kept him coming back wasn’t doing it anymore and he was getting frustrated. He started abusing her in different ways now. While he was raping her he would choke Eliza until she was just about to pass out and then he would let her breathe again. Her spasming muscles and the fact that he was teasing Eliza into thinking that she could just pass out and not have to witness what was happening drove him crazy. He kept coming back and each time was more vile. He knocked her out and drug her into the public restroom, raped her in the stall and left her unconscious body slumped on top of the toilet.

Eventually Eliza snapped, and one day when she entered the conference hall with the rest of her colleges and that bastard. She finally did what she couldn’t do for all of those years, she fought back. Eliza drew her service weapon in front of everyone and gunned down her commanding officer in cold blood. She just stood there and examined his corpse making sure that all 13 rounds from her Browning Hi-Power hit the fucker. She didn’t even resist when her colleges tackled her and the MP’s drug her off in handcuffs. She didn’t fight in her trial. Conveniently there was no evidence against him so all the blame was pinned on Eliza. She was deemed to unstable for military service, and even after all she had accomplished and all the medals she had earned. They called her a disgrace to the NCR military, her medals were confiscated, her rank was stripped away and she was locked away for what should’ve been a live time until one of the prison guards helped smuggle her out.

AFter she escaped from prison Eliza disappeared into the wasteland. She spent her next 6 years living in isolation in the deepest parts of the wilderness. Even after escaping once more Eliza still didn’t feel free. All of those years of abuse and rape left her empty inside. Since she was 13 years old she could never love someone, never embrace them in her arms. To her sex was something to be feared. It caused her pain and suffering, she couldn’t escape it. Everytime she went to urinate she would collapse in pain, and her trauma was so severe that a finger couldn’t even penetrate her without the spasms from her muscles paralyzing her in pain.

During those 6 years like all those years before her Eliza suffered. She hadn’t slept a full night since the raiders abducted her and Charlotte. She suffered from horrible vivid dreams of her being molested again. Even when she found someone she could confide in, she was only betrayed again. She met a young woman in Carson City. She was beautiful, young, dark hair, slim boyish figure. She was Eliza’s type. The two struck it off immediately, both women were desperately in search of a companion and they found it in each other. Unfortunately for Eliza the woman she gave her heart to had other intentions for it. Secretly she was a slaver, and she truly believed that Eliza was one of the most stunning women she had ever seen. Those two things meant only one thing for her, a paycheck.

Eliza was led along to believe that what they held together was true. Her lover made her feel things she never felt before. She had orgasms so intense that her pain was almost insignificant in the moment. Eliza truly thought that her life was turning around, she let her defenses down for the first time in her adult life and was instantly betrayed. During their time together the woman didn’t just learn how to pleasure Eliza, she also learned how to manipulate her. Her pain was so severe that her body shut down when it experienced it. Eliza couldn’t fight back while the pain was happening and she was completely vulnerable until it was over. During her time with this woman though her pain was getting better, she had the patience to take it slow with Eliza and edge her along. This gained Eliza’s trust and helped her rebuild her confidence. Now she could take about 6 inches without discomfort. She was having orgasms she never had before. Sex never felt this good to her before. One of the woman’s friends frequently came over and Eliza was more than happy to let him sleep with her. He was careful but intense, he carefully watched how Eliza reacted to him and made sure that he never hurt her. She was feeling so much better now than she ever was.

Except one day Eliza’s lover brought more than one friend and they weren't nearly as pleasant as the others. Eliza tried to fight it but they overpowered her and tied her down. This was a trial period for potential buyers. In her isolation Eliza had made herself vulnerable again, now the woman her heart ached for was standing over her while she was raped examining her like she was a piece of cattle. 3 days passed with different men each day, some of them were repeat visitors but Eliza was nearly unconscious for most of it. Her conditioned had flared up again making every inch she took hell. She was bleeding all over the floor but none of the men cared. Eliza’s lover assured them that it was worth it, and she wasn’t wrong. Once someone forced themselves inside of her the muscles constantly spasmed and contracted around the object as if she was having a constant intense orgasm. This kept people coming back. She was the best sex they had ever had and they were arguing and bidding over who would get to buy her.

For 3 days Eliza was tied to heating pipe in her home. Her arms straight above her head were chained around the pipe while she stayed sitting at a slumped angle for 3 days. They didn’t clean up after themselves, and they didn’t feed her. At one point one of the men inserted himself inside of her and he was way too big. Bigger than anyone Eliza had ever taken before. This made the pain unbearable, she screamed and cried. Begging him to stop, at this point her heart was shattered. She begged to the woman to let her go but she just stood there and watched. The man encouraged her to scream even louder, because he enjoyed it.

Eventually Eliza was flipped around so two men could penetrate her. One of them was the same man and the other was just as big as him. They both went after her at the same time, laughing hysterically at her screams. Eventually the pain had become too much for her to bear and she blacked out. When she woke up she was naked laying in days worth of blood and fluid. She was alone everyone else had left, even the woman. Eliza was too weak to move, she was still bleeding and without anything to eat in at least 3 days she felt like she was going to pass out. So she just laid on the floor and hoped that she would bleed to death and die. She thought she got her wish as she slowly slipped away only to wake up later on to find that the woman had returned. She was sitting alongside Eliza, twirling a blade in her hand. Eliza couldn’t do anything to her even if she wanted to. She was trembling and cold, and every breath was a struggle. She couldn’t even speak. Eliza just laid there and hoped that this woman would just run that blade through her throat, but the woman didn’t. She layed down beside Eliza and held her, the woman’s body felt so good against hers. She was warm in her embrace of Eliza. She played with her hair and kissed at her neck. Eliza didn’t know how to feel. She was flooded with a mix of emotions.

After a few minutes of her laying with Eliza she began to speak to her for the first time since this whole thing started.

“I fucked up Eliza. I fucked up really bad. I shouldn’t have went through with this. It wasn’t worth it. They didn’t have any interest in buying you. They just wanted to fuck with me. They exploited the fact that I was using you and then none of them were interested. All of that money is gone. You could’ve made me fucking rich.”

She placed the blade against Eliza’s throat. In her anger she was ready to kill her. Eliza just layed there and waited, she wanted to die. Life wasn’t worth living to her anymore. All she could do before she died was whisper one last thing before she went.

“I loved you.”

After that Eliza felt the cold steel of the blade slice through her neck and she blacked out again. She figured that was it, that she was finally dead but she woke up again. Still weak she managed to crawl onto all fours and headed for the door. On her way out she found the woman she loved slumped against the wall, her blood and brain matter painted the scene. She killed herself, and in her lap laid a blood soaked note written for Eliza. On the note it read simply.

“I loved you too.”

To summarize current events, Eliza spent time in New Vegas with her mercenary unit. There to serve as security for the Jaded Empire's delegation Eliza took things further then expected and fell for Shelby a member of Empress Calypso's delegation. It was a short lived but sorely missed relationship. Eliza under circumstances known only to her and Shelby left and headed back into the wasteland. During her exodus Eliza and her mercenaries came under fire from a mysterious bounty hunter. They successfully killed off most of Eliza's comrades and continued to stalk her across the wasteland. Now Eliza has found herself exhausted and beaten in Salem, Massachusetts. Hiding in ruined buildings, she's now waiting for her inevitable death to find her.

Name: Abraham Clay
Birth Name: Joseph Elliot

Age: Mid-to late forties

Appearance: Abraham is a tall man with a somewhat slight build, his skin burned and browned from years under the hot wasteland sun. He has a short but full and thick black beard with a peppering of grey. He has roughly shoulder length hair that is usually kept tied up in a small ponytail or bun, like his beard it is streaked with grey.

Sex: Male

Skills: From his slaving days Abraham remains proficient in close quarters combat and in subduing an individual in a non-lethal way. Likewise Abraham is skilled with firearms, but prefers rifles and shotguns to pistols and submachine guns. Over time Abraham has grown as a leader and is able to draw upon natural charisma to endear those around to him. He is an experienced tracker and outdoorsmen, capable of surviving without many resources.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Abraham keeps a shoulder holster with a .44 revolver under his left arm and a belt with a knife around his waist. Unlike other members of the Church, Abraham wear tall boots, with another knife in the right one. When going out for a time Abraham wears webbing, not unlike that worn by slavers and raiders. In the pouches are everything from water and rations to extra ammo and grenades. He covers theses weapons and webbing with the simple robes of a member of the Church. For weapons Abraham uses a radium rifle when in battle but keeps a double barrel shotgun for home defense and hunting.

(Previous) Occupation(s): Slaver

Faction: Church of Atom

Backstory: Born and raised in the Capital Wasteland, Abraham was originally named Joseph Elliot. He was slaver working around the Capital Wasteland and the DC ruins under his boss Leroy Walker. Joseph’s slaving crew was assigned with hunting down escaped slaves with finding and eliminating the Temple of the Union and Hannibal Hamlin’s band of freedom fighters. Once found, a siege was enacted and upon the final assault Hamlin’s band was scattered and those that could not flee were either captured or killed. The slavers were allowed little celebration however, just before they were to head back to a safe house at the scrapyard, they were attacked. A gang of mutants from Germantown had been attracted by the noise and descended upon the slaver crew. The fighting was fierce but brief and the slavers were forced to split up and flee.
Joseph fled with Silas and another slaver and took refuge at an old hermit’s shack near the scrapyard. They forced the old woman at gun point to take them in and hand over supplies. In process one slaver was killed and Silas wounded. Joseph took Silas with him though eventually left his fellow slaver as the man became dead weight. He dumped Silas near the Potomac with a pistol with one bullet before moving on. Wounded and weary himself Joseph learned them mutants had picked up his trail and were now hunting him. He sought shelter in the ruins of Springvale but was ambushed and captured by a band of raiders. They tortured and brutalized Joseph until he was bale to escape. He didn’t make it far and would have been found and killed or died of exposure had it not been for Silver, a junkie living in the ruins who took Joseph in.
She made contact with Doc Church in Megaton who agreed to patch Joseph up. Once in his care, Church recognized Joseph from his time with slavers and though he still helped him, made him swear not to reveal the truth. Wounded and seeking to be killed in his weakened state Joseph feigned amnesia and sought to create a new identity. His rehabilitation lasted months and the only ones willing to care for him during that time was the congregation of the Children of Atom. Eventually he grew to understand and support the faith and once he was fully healed became an acolyte for the Church. Joseph assumed the named Abraham Clay and spoke of how he was ‘reborn’ as a true child and servant of Atom. He served in the Capital Wasteland doing humanitarian work and spreading the faith. Eventually going away to work in the Commonwealth and it is there that Abraham now finds himself. Having assumed unofficial command over the Crater House congregation.

Name: Zeller
Known Alias’: ‘Judge’, ‘Prosecutor’,
Age: Assumed to be mid to late thirties.
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Skills: Zeller is considered highly dangerous and is always armed. He rules his gang through brutally effective leadership and a never-ending campaign of hazing and indoctrination.
Appearance: Zeller is an intimidating man, both tall and strong. He is described as having balding black hair and a thick handlebar mustache.
Weapons & armor/clothing: Zeller is often seen in his custom armor, a mix of metal pieces and a duster-robe like clothing underneath. His weapons of choice are his sledgehammer, the ‘Gavel’ and an R91 assault rifle.
Faction: Leader of the raider gang known as ‘Zeller’s Army’
Backstory: Zeller’s life before his rise to power and infamy in the raider underworld is largely unknown. There are rumors and speculation he was a former mercenary, maybe Talon Company, Gunners or even Rangers. Others say he comes from a blasted hell-hole in the West where the ground opens up and the wind tears your flesh away. Weirder still are the claims that he is former Brotherhood or a rogue synth. Whatever his background Zeller rose to prominence sometime before the Brotherhood-Institute war. Using the chaos and confusion of the war Zeller expanded his slaving and raiding territory, absorbing most of East Boston, striking deals with the Triggermen at Easy City Downs and running skirmish battles with the mutants holed up in Fort Strong.

Name: Louis Pacion
Age: Appears to be in his mid-thirties
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Skills & Traits: Though somewhat short, Louis is a sprinter and can out run most others in short distances. Though not particularly skilled at fighting, Louis is armed and has a strong will to live. He has connections within the various caravans and settlements in the Commonwealth, due to his business with them. Louis is a known to be a gambler, his skill and integrity ranging greatly depending on who one asks.
Appearance: Louis is a rather unremarkable man, somewhat short with medium length bedraggled brown hair. He has a small nose that has been broken and reset and plain brown eyes. He keeps a little bit of facial hair, but nothing substantial.
Weapons & armor/clothing: Louis wears the ragged clothing of an average wasteland wanderer, having only a few items such as old biker goggles, a stained scarf and a leather flight cap as protection from the elements. He carries a cheap, pre-war Chinese-made Mauser pistol stuffed into the waistband of his pants. A butcher’s knife, wrapped in a homemade sheath is hidden on his left pants leg.
(Previous) Occupation(s): Caravan hand, scavenger, caravan guard, informant.
Faction: None
Backstory: Louis is known to have come from the Capital Wasteland. He says he was a caravanner and had a family until they were attacked by raiders. Louis’ wife and son were killed and himself left for dead. Afterwards he struck north, seeking to put distance between him and his past. Louis has lived in Diamond City and worked in maintenance of the wall. He settled in Quincy for a time, eventually being driven out when the Gunners attacked. Since then Louis has drifted from settlement to hamlet, swapping work and information for sustenance and shelter. Recently he has found work under Kessler, running information to the caravanners passing through County Crossing and heading to Bunker Hill or Diamond City.

Name: Eric Stonewell

Age: 26

Race: Human (Vault-Dweller)

Sex: Male

Skills: Scouting (Sneak/Stealth), Wilderness Survival (cooking, meat harvesting), Weapon Skills (Self taught for most of it), Mechanical Skills (Minor Maintaining) Overall, Eric is a self taught survivalist in this world of unknowns and death all around. He has taken what skills he has seen others use, and ones he has learned on his own. While he is not the best at these, he has enough skill to survive in this place.

Personality: Driven, focused, and hard working is what the members of Vault 81 would say about Eric. In the Wastelands however, everything gets a bit muddled. Eric has adapted to life in the Wastelands a bit too well. While he has not become a raider, there are times when he uses rather questionable tactics and can be murky when it comes to morals at times. Over all, Eric does want to help people, but he tends to hold that most wastelanders are always after something when you help you.

While he is focused and driven, he can some times get tunnel vision, forgetting about his surroundings as he dives towards his goal, and this has cost him a few times, and he has the scars to show it. He is hard working, but this is again something that can cause many problems for him as well, as he can lose sight of his own safety or limits.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Eric is a man who values what he currently has and knows it will mean the difference between living and dying. He still wears his original Vault 81 suit, but it has been clearly patched in places. Over his chest is the front part of the rather useful, and commonly seen, metal armor. His armor has been welded so it is heavier, but more resistant to firearms. His arms and legs are covered with heavy studded leather, allowing the freedom of movement with a degree of protection. The armor is worn and has seen much use in the wastelands.

His main weapons are of prewar design. A well maintained and heavily modified Combat Rifle with a rather large bayonet on the barrel, a basic heavy 10mm pistol, and a combat knife that seems to have been scavenged from a prewar military installation.



Previous Factions:

Faction: Vault 81

Backstory: Eric Stonewell comes from a group of people who has always wanted to open the Vault to the outside world. He was one of the advocates for it as well, and when the doors were opened for traders, he started his training regime. He did what he could in the vault, and upon the second half being opened, he was one of the ones who did physical labor to help prepare his body for the heavy lifting of the wilds.

When the colony was approved for the outside, he was the first to step forwards to help build the colony. The walls, the buildings, the towers, everything for the vault colony was something he helped to build, but he realized they would need more. Sure, the Sole Survivor helped make sure trade caravans got there, and the Minutemen were all over the place, but... There would always be break downs in things.

That is when the idea dawned on him. A second location they could colonize, or even just eventually retreat to if they ever needed it, their own form of Project Safehouse. Eric was one of many who would go out to do this. Diamond city was always an idea, but it was too crowded and had far, far too many snobbish people, so something else was needed.

Bring handed a 10mm pistol, a Vault-Security Suit, some water and rations, he made his way into the wastelands. It didn't take long for him to have to start modifying things, trading services for equipment, and generally learning how to survive out here. He found a combat rifle, battered and badly damaged, on the beach during his explorations, and with the help of the Minutemen, he got it functional and modified to his liking. He traded with them as well, eventually helping to set up a deal for himself, he would spread the word of the Minutemen, and help where he could, and in exchange, they would help him with his gear.

Add several months of time, many dead raiders, and a lot of walking, Eric was now on his way to Salem. Rumors of people trying to start up a settlement there had peaked his ears. The Minutemen had no force out here, few traders, and many issues. It sounded perfect. He knew it was going to take a few days to reach it. He was going to leave out of the Castle and travel there on his own. It was going to be fun.