Right, I think this is finished. I'll check the thread in the morning.

[b]Name:[/b] Charlie
[b]Age:[/b] About 30
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Sexuality:[/b] Mostly straight

[b]Appearance:[/b][hider=Charlie][url=http://www.aneyeoni.com/art.htm][img=http://f.cl.ly/items/1k0k3d0m0Y0v0A3V0g3j/Bug%20Arm%E2%84%A2.jpg][/url]

(The image links to the original artist's site)[/hider]

Charlie stands about 6 feet tall and weighs around 180 pounds, a lot of it brawn. His hair and beard are beginning to show quite a few strands of grey, but otherwise he pretty much looks like your average adult wastelander.

Aside from the arm, of course.

It looks like something that might belong on an alien mix of a bug and a crab. Its surface feels like it's made of rough, solid rock, and though the claw is in no way as articulate as a hand, the arm itself is surprisingly limber, moving almost as well as his left arm. For a large part he keeps it hidden, usually in his coat sleeve. Some people aren't exactly fond of mutants, and they're usually very well armed.

Mutation: Charlie's right arm has grown into a claw, taking on a hard, spiny surface

[b]Weapons:[/b]
Glock 19 (15 round magazine, 9mm)
Knife
Big Damn Claw™

[b]Gear:[/b]
Gas mask
Ski goggles
Two clips of ammo (one only half full)
Six rounds of 12-gauge buckshot
Big army issue coat
Lighter
Flathead screwdriver
Flashlight
Bedroll

[b]Faction:[/b]

[b]Currency:[/b] $21, hidden in his left boot

[b]Short History:[/b] "The bombs fell before I was born. My parents were alive to see it, though, and from what I hear I'm glad I missed it. Still, my mom took a heavy dose of radiation. Guess that's why I look like I do. Hey, at least I actually made it, as opposed to some of those stillborn mutie babies still being born, two heads, no mouth, shit like that. And I was sorta cute until I was about eighteen.

"Mom and Dad worked the crops on our settlement. Most of us did at the time. The soil was burned by the bombs, hardly anything grew. We were already having a tough time, so when my skin started to harden, fingers started fusing together, everyone was pretty spooked. In the end, my parents were given a choice: go with me into the wasteland, or send me away on my own. Either way, I was going. They chose the latter, and to be honest, I can't say I blame them. I think I'd've done the same.

"So, there I was, big child with a fuckin' claw for a hand. I was unarmed, alone, scared, and to top it all off, I had to deal with being a leftie. Turns out, though, that claw will rip a jugular clean open. Sometimes I still dream about the things I did in the past ten years. I'm not proud, that's for sure. But I made it. I did. Even when the skin further up my arm started to harden. When I ruined my clothes trying to put them on. When I was chased from camps. I stay outside settlements, mostly, travel light. I don't visit anywhere for long. Not very many settlers are okay with heavy mutations, at least not on a long-term basis. So when I've had company, mostly it's been other muties. We're all freaks, so a third eye or a weird arm doesn't mean much to us. It's no use being a purist these days."