“Think you got the guts to carve out a frontier? Build towns, protect the roads, run supplies, train troops?”
“My sycophant tells me yes.”

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

In local folklore, The Courier was an enigmatic figure, drifting from place to place in a suit of pre-war riot armor, face hidden behind a gas mask and helmet as she solved problems with words, bullets, or rockets. During the Second Battle of Hoover Dam (and other miscellaneous occasions when she was really on the warpath), she was often recounted as a knight in shining Advanced Power Armor Mk II, laying waste to The Legion with her Red Glare rocket launcher.

Now? She’s a lot less imposing. Standing around 5’9”, she’s got a very unassuming aura with an air of that hardened “gets shit done” kind of attitude. She’s got a somewhat slender figure, with the odd scar here and there, toned and hardened by a life of travelling, fighting, and carrying heavy equipment, usually the for the purpose of more fighting. She's got a head of long blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail, and deep green eyes. Most of her body is covered in some decently maintained leather armor, but it lacks a left sleeve, instead wearing a wrist-mounted computer over her forearm along with a strange glove. She wears an odd necklace, decorated with what appears to be a platinum poker chip.

PERSONALITY ASPECTS

• Empathetic
• Inquisitive
• Goal-oriented
• Charismatic
• Somewhat devious
• Strives for a best-case scenario
• Sarcastic Optimist
• Just a tad bitter

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

Chance Fortuna was born 183 years after the world had been ravaged in an all-out nuclear war. The Great War. Things were pretty good, though. She was born in the New California Republic, easily the most thriving nation (let alone society) in the known world of postwar America. She had a nice childhood, though she always felt like she wanted to see the world beyond the NCR. She didn’t really feel like enlisting, but she grew up to become a courier. Essentially a glorified mailman, but when the world is filled with raiders and mutant creatures, it was less lame than it sounded, especially when it was supplemented by the occasional odd job here and there. It was a fun job… Until she got a mission to deliver a package to the city of New Vegas. On her way, she was ambushed by a man with a tacky suit who took her delivery, tied her up, and shot her in the face. She lived. And she was pretty eager to see what the deal was with that little incident.

War never changes, and even after the war to end all wars, there would still be groups of people fighting over what to do with what’s been left after it. New Vegas was the center of a three-way struggle for the city itself and Hoover Dam. The forces of the NCR, Caesar’s Legion, and Mr. House were all vying for control, but none could take down one faction without being too battered to take down the remaining foe. The key to tipping the balance was in that package; a platinum poker chip. Technically it was an advanced data storage device, but still, it was pretty important. As Chance travelled across the Mojave, forging friendships and getting into a variety of misadventures, it seemed to her that none of the three factions really had the right idea in mind for New Vegas. The NCR was rife with corruption and was overextending itself, Mr. House seemed more interested in building up New Vegas economically than actually helping the people of the Mojave, and The Legion... Well, what wasn’t wrong with The Legion?

So she tipped the balance of power in a fourth direction; her own. Taking her would-be assassin’s plot to usurp Mr. House’s position of power with the help of a reprogrammed robot named Yes Man, she killed Mr. House, installed Yes Man into his computer systems, and upgraded his robot army with the data in the Platinum Chip, just as House had intended her to. Except now she was the one with the army of killer robots, controlled by Yes Man. She continued to travel the Mojave, convincing various factions to ally with her, and fight The Legion alongside the NCR when they would battle once again for control of Hoover Dam. Along with The Boomers, she’d managed to sway the Brotherhood of Steel, The Great Khans, what remained of The Enclave… She’d managed to convince many to put aside their history with the New California Republic and work for a better future.

When the time came, Chance fought her way through Legion soldiers swarming through Hoover Dam, made her way to their camp, and carefully explained to Legate Lanius why his plan to hold New Vegas was one of the most logistically unsound plans of all time before she blew his ass sky-high with several blocks of C4. The NCR general in charge came to her to congratulate her on taking the dam for them… And was promptly told to fuck off as Courier Six’s endless army of robots revealed itself. He didn’t really have any choice in the matter.

With House dead, the Legion routed, and the NCR sent home with its tail between its legs, The young courier went home to the Lucky 38 casino, took off her power armor, sat down, and put her legs up on her desk. She was the undisputed queen of New Vegas. After things in the city settled down, she went straight to work improving the Mojave with the help of the allies (and more importantly, the friends) that she had made. Cleaning up the city outside the walls of New Vegas, making sure Freeside and the smaller settlements outside of the city were getting what they needed, burning down all those goddamn Cazador nests…

Just a year in, and Chance felt like she was really making the Mojave a better place. And it seemed like no force on Earth could topple her rule…

So The Event did. Like before in what felt like such a long time ago, she woke up in the middle of nowhere with even less of an idea how she got there than before. Torn from her empire and even her world, she was left with nothing but the clothes on her back, a computer on her wrist, a knife, and the chip that started it all...



~SKILLS~

Negotiator: Chance’s successes aren’t formed by being the most badass gunslinger West of the Colorado River (though she would like to have claim to that title), they were formed by her ability to get people who hate each other’s guts to work together for her. She’s got an extraordinary talent with convincing, sweet-talking, bartering, bluffing, and flirting her way into getting what she wants.

Gunslinger: Not every problem in the Mojave could be solved through words alone. When push comes to shove, she's a pretty good shot with guns or energy weapons, and a pretty good knife fighter. Very much a jack of all trades, master of none situation. Except when it comes to…

Explosives: Chance’s real combat talents lie in making things go boom. Setting charges, cutting fuses, disarming mines, throwing grenades, saying “fuck it” and going to town with an RPG with precise knowledge of the firing trajectory, that sort of thing. She can even take the gunpowder and primers out of bullets and make homemade explosives or other kinds of munitions, but she requires special equipment to do so.

Gearhead: With a penchant for fixing the odd broken appliance, Chance’s mechanical talents only grew as she got the chance to poke around with all kinds of robots, weapons, and devices in the Mojave. From Enclave Eyebots to Securitrons, she’s poked around in just about every crazy machine there was. Looking through Mr. House’s documents has given her an almost complete knowledge on RobCo products and what makes them tick, though she’d be out of her element with anything more advanced than the more retro tech present in her home world.

Power Armor Training: Suits of powered armor developed before and after the Great War were renowned as being easily the best thing one could wear to battle, enhancing the wearer’s strength and shrugging off just anything less than heavy weaponry like it was nothing. The problem was that they were… Less than intuitive. Chance received training in how to use them on her travels, and can probably apply that knowledge to other bizarre high-tech armor suits given some time.

~SPECIAL ABILITIES~

Luck: Chance is lucky enough to have been banned from several casinos across Nevada and the West Coast, not to mention the whole “got shot in the face and lived” thing. The dice will roll her way more often in general and will almost always roll her way if she’s gambling.

Survival: Chance has picked up a lot of tricks for surviving in a post-apocalyptic version of one of the most arid regions of America. She can make surprisingly delectable dishes out of mutant creatures one wouldn't expect to be even remotely edible. She can also back simple armors with the pelts of mutant geckos and other monsters, as well as skin those creatures provided she has a suitable knife on her person.

~Perks~

Jackpot: The ultimate expression of Courier Six’s luck. Once, and only once, The Courier can do the impossible. Whether it’s surviving what would otherwise be a death, or doing something far outside their knowledge or skills. The most contrived nonsense will happen as the universe aligns itself entirely in the Courier’s favor for no reason other than sheer luck.

Lessons Learned: Chance has been through a metric shitton of adventures, misadventures, heists, and hijinks, and she's learned from every single one of them. She starts with a lot of skills and is more than eager to learn more.

~Faults~

Wild Card: The Courier screwed over a lot of plans when she took the Mojave. The NCR and Caesar’s Legion were particularly pissed off, and whatever’s left of them would really like to settle some unfinished business. Assassin squads were annoying enough when she was armed to the teeth, but it’s anyone’s guess how well she’ll fare against them now.

Med-X Addiction: Chance was sometimes known for being able to take a ridiculous amount of punishment and keep going… Nine times out of ten, this was because she was hopped up on morphine. After a run-in with a high-tech stealth suit in Big MT that was particularly liberal with injecting the stuff, she got hooked on it. If she can go cold turkey for a week or find some other way of fixing her problem, she can kick the habit. Otherwise, if she hasn't taken Med-X that day, she can suffer withdrawal symptoms once that day, messing with her ability to perform a precise task.

~Weaknesses~

Despite all her talents and the odd cybernetic enhancement, Chance is only human. She's not the toughest person out there, either. She excels by being resourceful and being able to use a variety of people and equipment to her advantage, and she has none of those things now.



~STARTING EQUIPMENT~

Pip-Boy 3000: A wrist-mounted computer with various functions, including a map, radio, flashlight, compass, Geiger counter and more. Rather simple even in comparison to modern smartphones, but useful (and incredibly durable) nonetheless.

Straight Razor: An ordinary straight razor. Though it cuts deep, it’s not exactly an ideal weapon. At least it can lead to some cheesy one-liners about a close shave.

Platinum Chip: What appears to be a platinum poker chip. In actuality, it’s an advanced data storage unit. It opens a couple doors and contains an operating system update for Securitrons, but its use has long since passed. It’s since been made into a necklace.

Leather Armor: Some very Mad Max-looking leather armor, with no left sleeve. Not exactly ideal protection, but easy to move around in.

~CURRENTLY EQUIPPED GEAR~

*Above

~INVENTORY~

*Above





Chance has insisted that people call her by her actual name, but everyone tends to refer to her as some variation of “Courier” either way.

Chance used to be rather skilled in medical fields, but after an incident in which her brain was temporarily successfully replaced with a tesla coil, she decided that she knew nothing about being a physician and strays away from it whenever possible.