Name: Angela Quinn Larkspur
Nickname: Goes by Quinn, Lark by a select few
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Race: Caucasian
Affiliation: Mr. House
Karma: Better than usual after dragging a courier out of an early grave

Physique: Due to being highly active most of her life with an insufficient diet up until recent years, Quinn has a slender figure, though any grace it might of had if properly maintained is clad in lean muscle. She is not a delicate person, and can take quite the beating if she has to, though she gets knocked around pretty easily due to her smaller stature. She is slightly stronger than the average wasteland woman, but not enough to boast, just enough to keep her alive. She might good down rather easy, but she'll go down swinging. Her shoulders are narrow, and her left collarbone is ever so slightly crooked from having been broken in the past. She doesn't have too much in the way of curves, though she's not flat-chested by any means. Her face would be pretty if it were not for the scars over taking half of it. Round round in shape, her face has a distinct jawline and pointed chin. Her cheekbone are high and appear sharper than they really are from childhood malnourishment. Her nose is small and rounded, ever so slightly upturned. In her own opinion, her lips are her best feature, as they were the only thing that escaped the Deathclaw. Soft and full, she has a natural pout with a defined cupids bow, her top lip slightly larger than her bottom. Overall, she certainly looks like she belongs in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, though she could be pretty if she quit her vices and took better care of her general health and appearance.

Height: 5'5

Weight: 121 lbs.

Hair: Platinum blonde in color, nearly white in its hue, her hair comes a little past her shoulders. There are some richer blonder low lights closer to her roots, but over all, its an even pale shade inherited from her mother. There is no rhyme or reason to the way that it is cut, and gives off a 1970's haircut gone wrong vibe. It's rather choppy, indicating she cut it herself long ago. She had poorly done side bangs that hung over her blind eye when she was younger and more self conscious, though they've since grown out to an irritating length, so she usually tucks them behind her ear. How she wears her hair really varies according to the situation, ranging from brushed and pulled back, to unkept and left down. Whatever is fitting or what she has time for.

Eyes: Once both a pale, stormy blue, now one is glassed and scarred. Her left eye indicates their true nature, an unremarkable faded sky hue, as if someone lowers the saturation on a summer day. What makes her eyes interesting is not the color, but the information around them. They are almond in shape and slightly wider set. She has hooded lids with long amber lashes, and thicker brows to match. Dark purple circles under her eyes have become rather permanent after years of drug and alcohol abuse mixed with an improper diet, giving her perpetually tired appearance. Or, as she likes to say, "I always look like I got punched in the face."
However, it's her right eye that draws the most attention due to the extensive scarring. The eye itself is completely blind with no hope of repair. A once blue iris is now covered in a murky layer of pale scar tissue, like a tiny moon. Parts of her eyebrow never grew back through the scar around the eye, though her lashes somehow remained intact. The eye is sensitive to dust and becomes teary easily, so often times she'll use something to cover it, whether it be a patch, goggles, or simply wrapping a piece of cloth around it. Though, she doesn't mind leaving it exposed either, not as much as she used to.

Skin: Her parents both being caucasian and raised in a vault, she inherited their pale complexion. It turns pink rather than tan, and she sunburns quite easily, so she tends to stay covered when in direct sunlight to avoid getting fried. Other than that, there are no notable naturally occurring markings.

Scars / Markings / Etc: Quinn sports quite a few scars, though the most obvious one is the old injury that claimed nearly half of her face. From the right side of her temple, running straight down to her jaw are three fairly dramatic atrophic scars running vertically over her eye. Insufficient treatment and limited access to meds left the healing process to figure out its own way. Though they aren't nearly as bad as they were when she was young, the depressed outline and red, discolored skin are quite prominent on her face. Her other scars include various cigarette burns from multiple occasions in her youth, marks on her collarbone from haphazard stitches, and probably a few marks here or there that she's not sure where they came from. In terms of markings, she bruises rather easily, so she usually as some discolored blots here or there from getting into fights or just general bumps and slight clumsiness.

Clothing Description:

Personality: Quinn is a rather odd bird, to say the least. She's quite a reserved individual, and while not necessarily shy, introverted in the sense that she does not actively seek people out or much care for company. This can make her appear standoffish and even rude upon first encounter, though it really stems from a place of being unsure how to relate to others. It is not her intention to offend, but its easy to mistake her discomfort for impertinence. However, that being said, she's about as charismatic as a socially awkward mormon deathclaw with a speech impediment. It's safe to say that meeting people and first impressions are not her strong suit.
Reindeers Robots are better than people
Curiosity killed the Quinn.
Petty™
Dad jokes. Bad ones.
Every Quinn for herself. Or at least, she likes to think.
Unapologetic af

Skills: Adept with using and repairing most machinery and computers.

Weaknesses: Talking. She's also a borderline kleptomaniac.

Likes: Dogs

Dislikes: most people

Fears: having kids

Backstory: Quinn's parents ran away together from their compromised Vault when they were very young, both native to Tennessee, and headed straight west with big dreams of Reaching New Vegas. The situation in the east was only becoming worse, with feral ghouls and supermutants outnumbering humans, they made up their minds to leave, having nothing left to lose. They weren't the first people to attempt the journey, as rumors of there being a haven in the west traveling far and wide with caravans and wanderers. However, it wasn't long before they young couple discovered that Angela, Quinn's mother, was pregnant, and this slowed them down considerably. They ended up in a small settlement, called Quintana, in Arizona during the final trimester of Angela's pregnancy, and remained there until their little daughter was born. Because the town didn't have a real doctor, it was up to one of the local women and Isaiah, her father, to see that the baby was safely delivered in a bathtub in one of the houses. The labor was extremely difficult on Angela, and she became fatally ill after her baby was born. Quinn didn't have a name for the first week of her life, her mother too delirious and her father far too worried. Angela would sing "You Are my Sunshine" to her daughter whenever she cried until she settled down again, and when her mother wasn't doing that, she was sleeping. She passed away seven days after Quinn's birth, and it was then the baby girl was given her name, after her mother and the settlement she was born in.

At barely twenty years of age, Isaiah had no idea how to care for a new born baby, and thanks to the aid of the woman who delivered her, Quinn survived her first year of life. Thankfully, she was a sturdy little thing, and cried slightly less than was expected of a normal baby. When she was a year old, unable to stand to live in the town where the love of his life died, Isaiah took his daughter and continued toward his original destination: New Vegas. Once again, the going was slow, and traveling with such a young child was very dangerous, but he managed to keep them both alive and fed. She learned to walk on the decimated highway winding to New Vegas and her first toy was a small, dried out buffalo gourd with the seeds still inside of it so that it functioned as a rattle. She learned very quickly how to keep quiet and do what she was told, never straying from her father's side for a second. Isaiah would tell her stories that he had heard about their destination, and that kept them both hopeful.

The going was slow, with long periods of hunkering down at various settlements before picking up and moving forward once more. The longest they stayed anywhere was a year when she was almost three years of age. They traveled with others when they could, there was safety in numbers, but it wasn't uncommon that it would just be the two of them. She remembers extremely little from their days on the road. She was four years old when they crossed into Nevada, the ancient billboards and numerous road signs pointing them toward the city. While things hadn't exactly been perfect or smooth during their trek, it was during this last leg of the journey that disaster struck.

They had come to a particularly lonely stretch of road, the sinking sun telling them they should stop for the night soon and Quinn complaining that her feet hurt reinforcing that notion. Isaiah had been warned of the Deathclaws scattered through the desert by other travelers, but had yet to encounter them in any capacity. That changed when one stalked out from behind a pile of boulders, horned head swinging to look at the two travelers, fanged jaws agape, and beady eyes ablaze. The pair froze, Isaiah grabbing his small daughter's hand and quietly bidding her to cease her tantrum as he slowly began to back away. Though when the pale hair child fully comprehended the towering monster leering at them from mere yards away, she began to cry, and that sent the beast charging forward. Isaiah snatched Quinn and bolted in an attempt to carry her away as far and as fast as he could, but he wasn't quick enough. The beast lunged and slashed razor sharp talons at them, not only catching the young man across the back, but also his small daughter across the face. He tripped forward and curled himself around a screaming Quinn, and had it not been for the NCR patrol that had heard the commotion and drove the monster off, the two would have been slashed to bits.

Thanks to the medical attention from the NCR, both Larkspurs recovered, though Quinn's right eye had been damaged beyond repair, and while it hadn't been lost completely, her sky blue iris was clouded over, sightless. There was nothing they could do about the scars on her cheeks and forehead, but at that rate, the 4-year-old girl was lucky to have her life. In return for their rescue, Isaiah remained with the NCR to work in their technology department at the Mojave Outpost in exchange. While that was all well and good, weeks turned into months, turned into years. There was always an excuse for them to make him stay with the promise that when the time came, they would send a patrol to escort them out to the Strip. While he had been happy to repay his debt at first, it became more and more apparent that they were just trying to keep him there because he was useful. The outpost was also no place for a child, and while the soldiers didn't mind having the toddler around at first, Quinn was quickly viewed as a nuisance. Since Isaiah couldn't keep an eye on her while he was working, she was usually left to an off duty ranger, most of whom had very little interest in spending their time keeping a child out of trouble. Hence, she was mostly left to her own devices and ended up getting into things or wandering off constantly so there was no one for her to play with and she was typically dismissed or brushed off by most of the adults. She wasn't a brat or a typically awful child, but her boredom and curiosity often landed her in trouble anyway. Thankfully there was an old dog with no name that hung around that she sometimes played with when it wasn't sleeping or absent.

This rendered her quiet and very defensive, save around Isaiah. The soldiers kicked her around a bit, but not enough to truly hurt her or make her say anything about it. However, upon one occasion, She managed to get a hold of a pack of cigarettes that had been left on a table and bemused herself with taking them apart and using the remainder as toys. But when the less than sober owner of the packet found her sitting on the floor with the pile of shredded cigarettes at her side, he was furious, and not really thinking, struck her before gathering up the last undamaged cigarettes. The altercation left the eight-year-old with a nasty bruise on her left cheek and a black eye, and when she told her father how it happened, he was livid and took it upon himself to directly confront the ranger that hit her. This encounter also ended in blows and both men were harshly lectured and disciplined for it. After a few more incidents involving cigarette burns, Quinn being locked in a closet, and other like transgressions, they had had enough. This ended with Isaiah sneaking himself and an aged twelve Quinn out of the outpost and back out into the wastes.

They were careful to avoid the NCR after that, as Isaiah wasn't 100% sure whether or not they'd drag him back, or worse. The Strip being fairly neutral territory, it was their best bet. It didn't take them long to get what would be turning into Freeside in its infant stages, however, it was nothing like what Isaiah had been hearing about. Lawless, dangerous, and riddled with violence, it wasn't exactly the Las Vegas of old. Still, it was where they had ended up, and there was nowhere else for them to go. Despite the presence of the warring tribes, it ended up being a much better place for the pair, and Isaiah found himself highly instrumental in the development of the growing settlement's technology. Because of his unique skillset, he got a pass on a lot of the bloodshed. There were other children for Quinn to play with, but because she was so shy and lacked any social grace, she ended up spending most of her time with her father, helping and learning when she could. Still, Isaiah encouraged her to go and make friends, since up until this point she had had little to no contact with other kids and the old dog at the Outpost didn't really count, though it did in her mind.

She was a tough kid, no mistake, but that didn't help that some of the other children were not very kind about her appearance, and they got fairly creative with the name calling. However, the one that stuck was Ghoul-Girl. Though, her response to the bullying was to be just as mean in return, and her size didn't stop her from snapping and hitting right back. She was very prone to getting into fights, physical and otherwise, although this did garner her respect from some of the other kids, and she did end up making friends with a younger boy named Cade. He was missing a few fingers off his left hand, so they ended up bonding over their differences from he others. He was the one who taught her how to play the guitar, and she showed him a few card tricks she had learned from her dad. She didn't mind getting picked on so much after that, partly because the intensity died down, partly due to the fact she had a buddy who was going through the same thing.

The next few years slid by without a hitch for Quinn personally, aside from a few minor things, but the situation in the slums was really beginning to deteriorate and become extremely dangerous. However, around the time that she turned 17, the mysterious Mr. House sent securitrons to negotiate with the tribes. It was during this time that one of the robots malfunctioned and became dangerous, but rather than letting the locals destroy the machine and jeopardize the safety of the people and peace with House, Isaiah, with he help of Quinn, was able to disarm and fix the securitron on sight. This ended up being Victor, who reported the incident to House. Interested in someone with such capabilities, in case of emergencies or future projects, House summoned Isaiah to the Lucky 38, and naturally, Quinn went with him. He offered for the pair to live in the staff's quarters of the long abandoned casino in exchange for their help in restoring and maintaining the Strip from behind the scenes in a technological standpoint. As long as they told no one that they were living there, no one saw them enter or exit the building, and spoke of the arrangement to no one.

Isaiah agreed, the situation being better than he could have hoped for at this point, and the two set about moving to their new and final home after spending the first half of Quinn's life drifting from one dangerous situation to the next. After having fought for what little they had over the past decade or so, it was strange to be offered something that seemed so safe and permanent. They didn't make the transition right away, needing to tie up a few loose ends in what was now Freeside and set up a believable cover story as to where they were moving on the Strip and for what purpose. Besides, despite the rocky beginnings, there were a few people in Freeside Quinn wasn't so ready to just leave behind.

Once they had made the transition, Quinn was tasked with helping the three families restore the casinos to a shadow of their former glory, and despite her sub-par communication skills, ended up developing a fine professional relationship with each. Meanwhile her father worked closely with House. On what? She never knew, he never talked about it or shared any information. She found this frustrating, since up until this point, there had been complete trust and no secrets between the two of them. They began to grow apart, and Quinn spent most of her time working at the casinos or returning to Freeside. She had a bit of a drinking problem before, but it became worse as the arguments between her and her father become more numerous and volatile and the divide became worse. They became increasingly frustrated with one another, which led to Quinn seldom returning to the Lucky 38 in favor of more questionable company at times.

It was around then that she entered a relationship with a member of the Omertas, her first and only boyfriend to date. They were together more out of convenience and loneliness more than anything else, and while things were fine at first, the relationship slowly spiraled and deteriorated into emotionally toxic and ended up physically abusive on both their ends. Having absolutely no experience or exposure to romance or any real healthy couples didn't help her case either. The disastrous end of this seven month long relationship was what prompted her to try and make amends with her father, and though it was very rocky at first, she understood that he was keeping things from her from a reason, though their bond was permanently damaged now and things weren't the same.

After that, she kept more to the Lucky 38 and herself, though she could feel this underlying tension coming from House and her father. Something was going on, she knew that much, but she knew better than to ask now. Her suspicion only increased when she was tasked with locating and retrieving the very securitron she and her father had rewired all those years ago.

Weapons:
1x Laser Pistol
1x Laser Rifle
1x 10 mm pistol
1x Hunting Knife

Aid:

Miscellaneous:

S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

• S: 6
• P: 4
• E: 7
• C: 3
• I: 9
• A: 7
• L: 4

Tagged Skills: Science, repair, energy weapons

Perks:

• Black Widow
• Rapid Reload
• Smarter Than You Sound

Relationship Status: Single

Love Interest(s): None

Family: Isaiah Larkspur [father, living], Angela Martin [mother, deceased]

Friends / Allies:
Act I:

• Victor [friend] - As a teen, Victor was the only securitron that would actually talk to her. She always had a soft spot for him and never really knew why he disappeared.
• Jay [friend] - a classic case of extrovert adopts introvert

Enemies:

Theme Song(s):

Personal Theme:

• Angela - The Lumineers
• Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas - Brandon Flowers

Battle Theme: Paradise - Within Temptation
Misc: You are my Sunshine - Jimmie Davis


Other:

Name: Aurelian
Nickname: as of now, none
Gender: male
Age: 22
Race: a bit of a mutt, it's hard to tell, though predominantly Venezuelan and Indian
Affiliation: The Legion
Karma: has no clue what the fuck to do with this kid tbh

Physique: HECKIN STACKED DUDE

Height: 6'4

Weight: 190 lbs

Hair: Coffee brown and soft in texture, it's short around his ears while the top tends to lay in unkept curls.

Eyes: His eyes are a warm, faded green, the color of the sun filtering through leaves. The green is an olive shade, more muted than the flecks of gold around his pupils. They are very soft and honest in their gaze

Skin: Naturally a warm, even shade of brown, years of spending time outdoors under the desert sun have darkened his skin into a bronzed tan.

Scars / Markings / Etc: Hypertrophic burns span the width of his chest, reaching up over his collarbones to the base of his neck. They're also scattered down his left arm closer to his shoulder.

Clothing Description:

Personality: His first impression can be rather off putting, but not in the way you would expect. There's an expectation of legionaries to possess a wary kind of rudeness, but instead he is very mellow and friendly, and is kind to strangers that don't start shooting first. Despite his violent faction and the cruelty of his fellow Legionaries, Aurelian is a very passive sort. A bit of an outsider and an anomaly within the Legion, he is a sweet natured young man with a surprisingly sunny outlook. His first instinct is to be warm rather than hostile, unless the situation calls for otherwise. More of a beta personality, he's content to follow the lead of those who have proven they are capable and is not one to argue unless he sees a dire need for it. He's genuine in his disposition, and nothing about his persona is manufactured or a facade. He is non-confrontational in nature, and does not challenge others unless they egg him on first, which has made him generally well liked among his peers and superiors.

He is of rather simple intelligence, and is not book smart in any regard. Most social cues go over his head as well. He takes things very literally, so jokes, metaphors, and figures of speech are kind of lost on him.

However, his knowledge of fighting is his saving grace, as he is very savvy in combat situations. His physical prowess and fighting skill make him a force to be reckoned with, and keeps other legionaries from trifling with him.

Skills: He can fuck you up tbh

Weaknesses: to put it nicely, he is not a clever man

Likes: babies

Dislikes: when babies cry

Fears: being the reason a baby cries

Backstory: Aurelian was actually born Santana Mattu, his mother and father traveling merchants in the Mojave. Affectionately dubbed Santi by his Latina mother, the first two years of his life were spent traveling the Mojave with his parents and their little caravan of scavengers. It was far from glamorous, but they made it work. His memory of this time is completely gone, and he couldn't tell you a thing about it even if he wanted to. He was well behaved, as far as infants and toddlers go, but had yet to say a word even after he turned two. His parents never would get to hear him speak, as their caravan was set upon by legion soldiers. All the men were killed, and the surviving women, of whom there were three, were taken as prisoners. Santana's mother was not one of them. The only child, he was also spared, and because he was still a toddler, was placed in the care of the Legion priestesses to be raised and trained as a soldier with the rest of the boys. They changed his name to Aurelian, and his old one was quickly forgotten. Because he was young enough, he didn't have to undergo the same conditioning as the older children, and was told that he had always been a part of the Legion.

One of the priestesses, a woman dubbed Creusa, took a particular shine to the the orphaned toddler. He was much more docile than the other boys, and seemed more content to do as he was told, as far as small children go. He learned by observation rather than explanation, and saw the consequences of disobeying in the fate of the other boys rather than having to learn the hard way himself. Creusa took a more personal and active role in his upbringing than most priestesses did with the children that they were charged with raising for Caesar, which is probably what saved Aurelian from turning out as harsh and jaded as the others. This also resulted in a greater respect for women in general compared to the rest of the legion.

He was a hardy child, and thrived in the lifestyle the legion provided, physically at least. He was taller and tougher than the other boys his age, which probably saved him from a lot of physical bullying, on account of the fact that disposition wise, he was always very soft. This milder character was heavily influenced by Creusa, as she wanted to shield him from as much she could without getting in trouble with higher ranking legionaries. This made him a bit of a social outcast when he was small, though it confused him more than bothered him.

Weapons:

1x machete
1x cowboy repeater

Aid:

Miscellaneous:

3x Stealth boys

S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

• S: 8
• P: 6
• E: 7
• C: 4
• I: 2
• A: 8
• L: 5

Tagged Skills: Melee weapons, survival, sneak

Perks:

• Toughness
• Cowboy
• Rad Child

Relationship Status: Single

Love Interest(s): None, he doesn't really get the concept

Family: His mother and father [both deceased] are unknown to him. The only "family" he has is the Legion.

Friends / Allies:
Act I:

• Vulpes Inculta [ally] -
• Creusa [friend] - a Legion priestess who raised him. Kind, but devoted to the Legion and their ideology. She is very spirited and devoted, these traits combined with her beauty landing her in the role of a Legion priestess to begin with. She was in her early twenties when Aurelian was placed in her care, and soon became very attached to him, since he seemed very keen on being wherever she was, having just been separated from his mother.
• Scipio [friend] - A few years younger than Aurelian, they bonded when they were young due to the fact that neither of them quite fit in with the other boys. Scipio was small and socially awkward, which made him an easy target for the meaner children. At Creusa's prompting, Aurelian defended the younger boy from being picked on and they went on to become as close as brothers.

Enemies: While he has no personal vendettas, generally anyone who is against the Legion is an enemy (as per his training).

Theme Song(s):

Personal Theme:

• Legionarie: The Wolf -- Fever Ray

Battle Theme:
Misc:


Other: