[CHAR] Fallout: Rust and Steel

Dossier

Pyrdwen Internal Network
Moss MS-357PR PM-071

Fr: Paladin Moss MS-357PR
To: Blocked

I am writing to inform you that a member on your team, _________, has been drafted for an operation. Details are confidential. I can assure you this is a top priority for the Brotherhood and that any inconvenience their absence may cause will be repayed in spades upon our success. Please do not share this information. Acknowledging the existence of this operation from this point on may viewed as insubordination.

Thank you for your cooperation.

---

The Squad

Moss, Elliot Paladin in charge of Recon Squad Zero | Age 42, In Excellent Condition, Modified T-60 Power Armor

Squad Leader

Algarín, Owen Senior Scribe with Recon Squad Zero | Age 28, In Good Condition*, Field Armor

Communication and Field Navigation

Suffering night terrors and occasional sleep irregularities

Kinsley, Harper Senior Scribe with Recon Squad Zero | Age 43, In Good Condition*, Brotherhood Fatigues

Designated Medic and Intelligence

Suffering symptoms of insomnia and depression

Estevez, Daniel Knight-Sergeant with Recon Squad Zero | Age 20, In Excellent Condition, T-45 Power Armor

Squad Gunner

Brown, Patricia Knight with Recon Squad Zero | Age 26, In Excellent Condition, T-45 Power Armor (Reformed Brotherhood, Outcast)

Resources and Urban CQC

Brown, Samuel Lancer with Recon Squad Zero | Age 27, In Excellent Condition, Lancer Uniform

Co-Pilot and Weapons Specialist

Grimshaw, Laura Knight with Recon Squad Zero | Age 23, In Excellent Condition, Field Armor

Designated Marksman

KIA

McCarthy, Frank Senior Lancer with Recon Squad Zero | 42, Killed in Vertibird Crash
McDowell, Gregory Knight-Sergeant with Recon Squad Zero | Age 35, Killed Defending Vertibird Retreat, T-51B Power Armor

CQC Heavy and Survival Expert

[Lo Pellegrino]

Moss, Elliot

Name: Elliot Moss

Date of Birth: 26 August 2242

Sex: Male

Appearance: Elliot Moss is a truly large man. Taller than most with thighs and biceps as big around as saplings. His torso is thick in the chest and narrows into a lean, rippled stomach with the kind of definition achieved through years of hard work. These are not show muscles. Elliot is not a bodybuilder. Some say his father might’ve been a super mutant, though. Best keep that talk in the mess hall.

Real dreamboat, right? Unlike Grognak the Barbarian, Elliot is a real soldier. In his youth he would be described as average looking at best. A pronounced browline, a chiseled jaw, and a bit too much of an overbite to be conventionally beautiful. His eyes are open in narrow slits with small wrinkles spreading from the corners. He keeps his hair shaved to a fine stubble to hide the greys. While understandable, the look does nothing to hide the long scar running up the left side of his face.

Place of Birth: New Jerusalem, Utah

Path: Knight

Rank: Paladin

Equipment:

• T-60 Power Armor modified for fit
• A partial set of light combat armor (chest, helmet, legs)
• Basic Field Gear (three days of rations, first aid kit, etc.) on the lower back of his power armor
• Overcharged Laser Rifle modified for urban combat in D.C.
• An old .45 M1911 on the right thigh of his armor
• Three magazines (or cells) for each weapon
• A personal holotape acting as his field journal
• A handheld device to track BoS signals
• One signal grenade for the vertibird
• Holy Scripture

Notable Talents:

• Highly Experienced: He’s among Elder Maxon’s paladins for a reason.
• Exceptionally Strong: Again, those muscles aren’t just for show.
• Infantry Background: Many years of experience have taught him much.

Laughable Failings:

• Fighter, Not a Lover: You won’t meet a less charismatic or likable person.
• Recently Promoted: His first mission as a paladin is high-stakes and he’s feeling it.
• Holier Than Thou: Very few are ‘good enough’ in his mind, resulting in an extremely narrow way of viewing the world.

Personality: New Jerusalem still burns in his worst nightmares. Elliot believes his home was lost due to a lack of dedication to God. He measures all fortune with how one’s actions align with the Holy Scripture. While few among the Brotherhood of Steel are New Caananites, Elliot does believe the organization is following the path. When members stray from the Brotherhood’s ideals he considers this both an affront to the organization, but his faith, and considers them a liability. For Elliot following the chain of command is akin to following God.

Elliot is in a constant struggle to follow the New Canaanite teachings. His interpretations are skewed and quick to justify violence, often justifying these actions with the wars the wandering Hebrews conducted while looking for a land of their own. It’s a way of thinking that can become so intense that others in the Brotherhood have become uncomfortable. Rarely does this side of him let up. The only time Elliot seems ‘human’ is when he’s settled into worship. At these times he is a softer, kinder man. If only that lasted longer.

Short Background: Elliot was too young to remember the fall of New Jerusalem. He’s heard the stories, though. The kind told as a means to teach a lesson rather than record an actual history. Those lessons left him with the belief that a failure to follow the New Canaanite ways led only to ruin. It’s an idea that has shaped him ever since.

The Moss family fled from New Jerusalem along with the Living Prophet and other survivors. They helped settle New Canaan where young Elliot was baptized, his only memorable interaction with the prophet. Life in the town wasn’t for everyone, especially after the prophet died, but the Moss family stayed. They had a child to think of and while this community was small, it was also safe. This decision would prove fruitful.

By the time Elliot became a teenager New Canaan was growing. Conflict between the New California Republic and the Brotherhood of Steel sent refugees into the area looking for shelter. Of course, the New Canaanites did what they could. Most were appreciative, others caused trouble. Elliot made keeping the peace a personal mission. Thanks to his size these fights usually ended in his favor. His work to help the community did not go unnoticed. A group of New Canaanites banded together to form a militia to defend the town and Elliot was one of the first invited to join them.

Now, New Canaan continued to grow into a thriving trade hub. A land so prosperous that Elliot felt a bittersweet joy, for his part in it had come to an end. A man grown, he set off with a group of missionaries to the east in search of new ways to promote the faith. The journey was long and harrowing. It took nearly two years, but eventually he arrived in Washington, D.C. It was a wild place far removed from the One True Way, yet among all the waste and corruption one group proved worthy -- The Brotherhood of Steel.

Elliot saw the Brotherhood as an Army of God and technology a product of evil. He used much of his time in the Capital Wasteland to learn about the ideals, only hardening his view. When the other missionaries prepared to leave, Elliot revealed that he’d seen a vision, that it was God’s will he stay. The decade that followed saw the God-fearing warrior grow into a fierce soldier. His dedication and prowess in the field earned respect from above and, recently, a position as one of Elder Maxon’s Paladins.

Algarín, Owen

Name: Owen Booker Algarín, or “Book”

Date of Birth: 11 September 2256 (28 years old)

Sex: Male

Appearance: You won’t notice Owen Algarín for his size. While not short, he is certainly shorter than many that seem to flock to the Brotherhood. He has broad shoulders and shapely arms, both of which are a bit soft from his largely sedimentary line of work. His legs are more defined, if only the Brotherhood rethought their positions on shorts.

Again, it’s not his physique that will capture your attention. Owen Algarín came from a very different background than most in the Brotherhood. There, successes and rites of passage were celebrated with tattoos and hairstyles. Owen retains these attributes. His deep black hair is woven into thick dreadlocks that hang down to his shoulders and are often tied back by one of the locks. He has a small swirling pattern tattooed over his left eye and several more symbols on his arms, shoulders, and chest. All his tattoos are in black ink, which can be difficult to make out against his dark tan skin unless you’re standing a few yards away. These tattoos have a vaguely familiar quality to them even if the original meanings are lost to time.

Place of Birth: Olympia, Northwest Commonwealth

Path: Scribe

Rank: Senior Scribe

Equipment:

• A leatherbound journal and pens
• Basic Field Gear (three days of rations, first aid kit, etc.)
• A 10mm tactical pistol
• A small .38 caliber revolver for emergencies
• Ammunition (5x extended magazines of 10mm and 4x speed loaders of .38)
• Old world maps of the area, waterproofed
• Field scribe fatigues with light helmet and attached light
• Partially restored pre-war multitool
• Self-assembled repair kit
• One brahmin leather backpack

Notable Talents:

• Learn From the Past: Turns out all those history books can teach you a lot about how people work. Never change humanity.
• Lay of the Land: A sharp mind paired with research skills makes him your best bet at navigating places unknown.
• An Old Soul: Right at home in pre-war places, he’s quick to pick up on secrets of the past.

Laughable Failings:

• Grognak He’s Not: Soldiers aren’t always rough and tumble, just ask anyone who’s served with Owen.
• Lasers, Gauss, and Other Magic: If you want him to “use” an energy weapon, it better be some kind of grenade.
• Skeletons in the Closet: Loss. Burned bridges. An entire life left behind. Some blazes still burn bright.

Personality:
Quiet, thoughtful, and a little dour. The kind who doesn’t throw themselves into the center of the fun, or even keep up with long-time teammates. It’s hard for him. A real drain on his energy, like trying to keep up with the knights in the Pyrdwen’s gym. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel, though. Actually he finds affection for just about everyone on the team. Everyone has their positives, he says to himself, and he might even tell you yours. His words are sweet, so hope for that. But most of the time you’ll find him working away, hunched over dusty tomes or recreating some pre-war relic.

Everyone finds their own way to cope. For some the chems help soften the sharp points of the world and for others it's the booze that soften the edges. Owen prefers to smoke. Not the crumpled packets of pre-war cigarettes traders peddle, but an herb with a more calming effect. Most assume it's the former, though. They don’t know how it eases the nerves forever tensed since the death of his son. How it helps him forget the lonely nights after his husband devoted himself entirely to his work (leaving Owen so alone that he wondered if he had died as well). He doesn’t push his luck. Owen rolls a little herb outside, looking over the railing of the Pyrdwen.

He forgets and finds himself in those small, quiet hours.

Short Background:

Youth

The Pacific Northwest Commonwealth is a cold place. Winters run long with radiation storms far wetter and more dangerous than elsewhere, though they typically occur in the fall. It’s better where the land is owned by the old forests. Spared from nuclear fire, these lush wilds not only provide shelter from the storm, but also do much to reduce their radioactive bite. It’s a lesson taught to the children. Where there’s trees, there’s home.

Olympia is wild. Once a state capitol, it’s now a loose community hidden from the world in somewhat preserved buildings from pre-war times. While the area has scars from that fateful day two centuries ago, the chaos and disorder that followed had more effect than any atomic or nuclear ordinance.

Owen was fortunate enough to be born into the community after recent conflicts settled. A paramilitary raider group from the air force base to the east had threatened them. He grew up hearing stories about the raids. Heroes within the settlement had taken to hidden perches in the trees, defending the people like the very heavens had opened up in their time of need. That left Owen with a resounding sense of hope, admiration, and that someone would be there to help.

As a young man, Owen earned the nickname ‘Book’. One of the hidden benefits to Olympia’s survival is its access to old knowledge, including libraries, books, and even the long-abandoned colleges nearby. While exploring these places meant leaving the safety of Olympia’s walls, Book and his friends decided early on that the risk made the reward that much sweeter. They’d brave the wildlands surrounding the settlement, either avoiding or scaring off the mutated creatures lurking in the forests, then would get comfortable in the safety of some old college library. Owen’s personal favorite was Evergreen State.

Love

Traders began picking up on signs that some still lived in the Pacific Northwest Commonwealth. They came from Arroyo mostly, though the odd New Canaanite was known to try their hand at uprooting the so-called “tribal beliefs” of the people (always fruitlessly, mind you).

A caravan selling all sorts of technological scrap rolled through one day. The rugged white lab coats caught Owen’s attention first. They called themselves Followers of the Apocalypse, but Owen only cared about one of them. A young man his age, tanned by weeks on the road, tall and slender and eyes that smiled before he burst into laughter. Both of them felt it. Owen followed him back to Arroyo, then further east onto the edges of New California. They settled on a dusty little farm and took in a young orphan as their own. And for a while it was bliss.

Caesar’s Legion struck their home. It wasn’t only them, Owen knew that, but he imagined his relationship had earned a special kind of resentment from those backwards brutes. It was meant to be a warning, the NCR said. They must be strong. The republic said nothing about the damages to their farm. Offered no apology for the loss of their child. After that his husband became more distant. Threw himself into longer missions with the Followers while Owen wallowed in his own depression at the farm. In his state of mind, the stories on the radio about the Brotherhood attacking the NCR brought a strange kind of satisfaction. Like a come-uppance for the republic’s failure to stand up and protect its people.

Duty

Owen sought out the Brotherhood. Listened to every story, read every newspaper, and studied every old map he could find. He reasoned that any military force worth its salt would seek out their pre-war ancestors. Even more likely if that force obsessed with finding old tech. So he began to explore abandoned bunkers, bases, and other fortified places. The risk didn’t matter -- dying didn’t matter. After three weeks he found them. It took several more before they gave Owen a chance.

The outpost needed knights. Despite his better judgment, Owen agreed to fill the void. He followed the paladin in charge out to an old road blocked off by super mutants. Tasked with helping clear the way and too foolhardy to trust his gut, Owen rushed in knowing full well this was his chance to prove himself. He was carried out barely able to breathe.

A sledgehammer to the chest is more than enough to kill a man. Such had been proven countless times before. And yet Owen managed to survive the encounter. What armor the Brotherhood had provided, which was precious little, had done enough to keep him whole and the key bits intact. Enough for the senior scribe to stabilize him and the Brotherhood’s access to medicine to put him on the road to recovery. A road that introduced Owen to another path to serve the Brotherhood.

Healing consumed the better part of a year. Part way into the process Owen began assisting the senior scribe where he could. Research and other mental work at first, then using that to create usable intelligence. Once he recovered the senior scribe sent Owen east with a handful of knights. The trip, while long and arduous, allowed Owen the chance to restore some measure of his endurance. A good thing too, as arriving to the Capital Wasteland introduced a whole new world.

Constant drills and low-level missions to retrieve technical documents filled his time. While others disappeared, put off by too many menial tasks, Owen persisted. Thrived, even. As a scribe he could use his strengths to protect and serve. To provide the kind of information that could help save lives (something Owen increasingly felt compelled to do). More than anything else this personal drive has led to his success in the Brotherhood.

[Andreyich]

Estevez, Daniel

Name: Daniel Tomas Estevez

Date of Birth: Born on the 2nd of January 2264, Daniel is 20 years old.

Sex: Male

Appearance: Daniel has a colouring of mud-brown hair and eyes of more or less the same shade, along with fairly pale skin the pale off-white used in white paint. He is typically well groomed with moderate length hair and a clean shave. He has fairly small ears and nose, but shapely though not exactly strong chin and cheekbones. Daniel has a fairly muscular build, every part of his body thoroughly worked to have a competitive edge over the low life of the wasteland. He is well above the malnourished and irradiated height of most of America's current denizens but more or less average for a member of the Brotherhood.

Place of Birth: Lost Hills bunker.

Path: Knight

Rank: Knight

Equipment: T45 Power armour - not the most comfortable or protective power armour accessible to the Brotherhood, it is also very slow but it is the easiest to maintain, while providing much strength to help in combat, and be a pack mule of sorts for the squad. The selected modifications for it are lead plating and a targeting HUD, though Daniel hopes he can find more in the wasteland.

M14 Rifle - A classic chosen for its great potential at long range, not particularly high maintenance, and even the ability to be a squad automatic weapon when Daniel loads larger magazines into it, ignoring much recoil thanks to power armour. Furthermore, it has many modifications that Daniel has brought along, including a bipod, optics, and a silencer,

Recharger Pistol - A parting gift from family, it is a laser pistol that's light on the logistics.

Gatling Laser - the real squad automatic weapon, the Gatling laser is in the right hands enough to suppress whole raider bands, ruby red streaks frying men to ash. It is of the pattern found in the Capital Wasteland.

Logistical bags - these are filled with everything from ammunition, to food, to water purification tablets to medicines. In a long haul these can save many a life.

M112 C4 Charges - while the Knight has no use for bringing along his own grenades instead preferring to take those he finds in the wasteland, C4 is a uniquely useful tool. From demolishing buildings, to collapsing caves and tunnels, to breaching vaults, to making defences, the plastic explosives are even useful as tools of barter should the squad need something in particular from a trader.

Combat Knife - a nasty chopper, if a man in power armour hits you in the flesh with this you're probably dead.

Rucksack - A very large thing in which most of Daniel's equipment is carried, it towers well above his head and helmet with all the things in it.

Holster - placed at his hip for the recharger pistol

Reckon armour - worn below the power armour.

Fusion Cores - carried to make sure his armour never runs out of charge.

Doctor's Bag - always useful on the frontlines

Weapon and armour repair kit - when you're wearing power armour and carry three guns, these are a must.

Classical Guitar - He's not the greatest with it but it calms the lad's nerves.

Books - Similar to the above, for now he's going through Henry the Eighth.

Notable Talents:

Drilled to all hell: Daniel's life has been very regimented since he could walk, having daily excercise, education and practice with arms. He can shoot, wrestle, cook, maintain gear, even walk his power armour without a fusion core: anything a soldier might even in the most remote of situations have to do.

Knowledgeable ... For a grunt, anyway: While born with intelligence perhaps at average plus or minus a point on the SPECIAL scale he has been privileged to have access too much knowledge in his youth in addition to parents that forced him to accumulate it. Though he isn't going to be researching plants of the wasteland any time soon Daniel has a great many things stored in his head and will look for pre-War books in any environment he comes upon.

Eager and quick to learn: Daniel gets the hang of new ideas fairly quickly. But one demonstration of a new weapon will be followed by calm use of it; no instruction has to be repeated twice to him.

Laughable Failings:

Greener than a supermutant: The Knight has in spite of his best efforts not accumulated any practical experience of Knighting in the field. He has never shot at let alone killed a man. On paper he is a top of the line soldier, in practice....

Sheltered: Quite literally almost thirteen years of his life were entirely in a bunker, but even inside it he was even then fairly separate from other children. Daniel has never in his life experienced significant trauma. Similarly he has never dealt with any other excess emotion like rage, his life being almost sterile. He is trusting and most lies will go right to him, all this of course reflecting on his personality.

Baseless: Daniel is an idealist, which while not in and of itself bad is quite a flaw in his situation. While he is a good thinker, it can be very much argued he can't think for himself. Too often he looks to leadership for guidance, and will rarely if ever take initiative.

Personality: Daniel is an idealistic individual, a pair of rose tinted spectacles undeniably bolted to his face. While he isn't exactly arrogant he has never had anything to truly test his skills, and so can't imagine anything that his training wouldn't prepare him for. He is quite frankly an aimless and unambitious, he expects nothing of his life with no ultimate goals save for simply advancing up the hierarchy of the Brotherhood. He doesn't expect to become more than Paladin, long since making peace with the fact that while he will become a leader, Daniel shall never stop being a follower.

The young man has much faith in the mission of the Brotherhood of Steel, synths, ghouls, supermutants and all other filth of the wasteland unconditional subhumans to him and as an aptly described Knight it is his duty to liberate the world from them. Daniel is a very cheery and almost annoyingly polite individual, even in tense situations maintaining formal address.

Short Background: Daniel Estevez was born in the lost hills bunker to a family that can trace its origins back to the founders of the Brotherhood of Steel. Both of his parents were Paladins, each dedicated to their cause and instilling the same zeal in their four children.

From the day he and his siblings could speak Daniel was told that - one day - he would become a Paladin, or a Senior Scribe. He was subject to much learning and already began to have a military like schedule when his years were still in the single digits. Most of his adolescent speech and relationships were almost adult with Scribes and Knights, some occasional time spent with his brothers and sister.

The years went by quite uneventfully. Daniel's brothers went on to become scribes and his sister a Knight, and it was soon time for him to take a path. It was slowly but surely becoming clear that while he was most certainly a well educated boy Daniel would take after his sister. He wrestled and shot far better than he could debate or write.

The time came and he became an Initiate, all of he previous life rigorously preparing him for the experience. Short time passed before he became a Senior Initiate, gaining further training. He learned to use power armour and stealth boys, first aid, maintenance of equipment and chain of command. With flying colours he went on patrols to hunt molerats and radroaches, even managing a radscorpion. He became a Knight shortly after, earning his first suit of power armour.

Now his patrols became regular, he provided first aid to ailing wastelanders and he even fought ghouls. But beyond stopping men at gunpoint, he never saw any real action. He longed for it and yet could not come upon it, until recently an opportunity came up. A squad was being assembled to go to the commonwealth, for which he instantly volunteered. With a quick nepotistic recommendation by two Paladins and a show of his skills he was promptly added to the team.

[Hank]

Grimshaw, Laura

Name: Laura Grimshaw.

Date of Birth: 2261-01-03 (23 years old).

Sex: Female.

Appearance: Laura’s physique is hardly imposing; she stands 5’4” (165cm) at her full height and weighs 125 pounds (56kg), making her quite short and scrawny compared to some of the veritable giants in the Brotherhood of Steel’s Knight division. That said, the weight she does have is mostly lean muscle and Laura has only just enough fat on her bones to fill out her womanly attributes. Her lack of experience as an Initiate shows itself in the wholeness of her sun-kissed skin, which would be pale if not for her tan, where the only scars she has are a small assortment of childhood mementos in a world that is inherently dangerous and in which everyone acquires a few cuts and bruises over the years, no matter who they are. Even her feet and her hands are dainty and look more like a Scribe’s than a Knight’s, but Laura is determined to prove her mettle as a warrior.

Her face is pleasant enough to the eye, her features free of radiation damage, as she sheds the last vestiges of girlhood and assumes a woman’s face. High cheekbones push her eyes into an almond-shaped slant, framed by the feminine arch of her brow, and her straight and modest nose has obviously never been broken before. Her lips are full, tipped by a cupid’s bow and have a natural blush to them. A smattering of faint freckles on her cheeks give her face a little character, but otherwise her skin is smooth and flawless. The sapphirine brightness of her eyes contrasts sharply against her voluminous black hair, usually worn in an asymmetrical, elegant parting, but Laura carries a hair tie with her to keep her hair out of her face when things get… well, hairy.

Place of Birth: Vault 49, Montana, United States.

Path: Knight.

Rank: Initiate.

Equipment:

Brotherhood fatigues: All-weather combat fatigues fashioned from dark wool and tan fabric. Includes gloves and leather boots. Provides a modest amount of protection and features enough pouches and straps to carry all of Laura’s gear.

.50 caliber sniper rifle: Looted from the corpse of an enemy raider that she personally killed, this is a powerful weapon indeed. It features a scope with heavy magnification and night-vision capability. Its killing and stopping power at range is unmatched.

AER9 laser rifle: A gift from the Paladin that sponsored her initiation into the Brotherhood, it now serves as Laura’s primary combat weapon. It’s standard-issue, the only modification being the inclusion of a scope to better make use of Laura’s sharpshooting skills.

N99 10mm pistol: Common sidearm, also unmodified. Laura has etched her father’s name into the side of the barrel.

Combat knife: Stick ‘em with the pointy end, although this particular knife has a serrated blade -- slashing works just as well and causes vigorous bleeding.

Explosives: For blowing things up, of course. Her inventory currently contains the following:

• 1x fragmentation grenades.
• 1x molotov cocktail.
• 1x pulse grenade.

Ammunition: Can’t shoot without some good ol’ lead or juice.

• 4x fusion cells, 30-shot capacity.
• 5x clips of 10mm ammunition, 12-shot capacity.
• 5x magazines of .50 caliber rounds, 10-shot capacity, and 20 spare bullets.

Notable Talents:

Sharp-Shooting Sharpshooter: What Laura lacks in combat experience she makes up for in hours on the range, both in her native Vault 49 and during her time with the Brotherhood. She’s a crack shot with any type of firearm, which naturally leads into her preference to engage the enemy from range.

Where’d She Go?: Lithe, little and light on her feet, Laura is gone and out of sight before you know it. This usually goes against the standard Brotherhood doctrine of victory through overwhelming application of force, but variety is the spice of life and nobody can deny the effectiveness of a laser shot through the back of someone’s head at 150 paces.

Resourceful: Initiate Grimshaw is full of grit and ingenuity, necessary traits and skills in a Vault that requires constant maintenance and doesn’t have infinite resources. She is quick to come up with unorthodox applications of whatever happens to be at hand to solve problems and good at using the environment to her advantage.

Laughable Failings:

Arachnophobe: Even a world full of Deathclaws, Cazadors and Mirelurks, Laura’s terrified of spiders. They’re just so… creepy!

Sensitive Soul: The camaraderie of soldiers is filled with playful banter and snide jabs at each other. Unfortunately for Laura, she has a hard time telling if people are serious when making jokes at her expense and it’s happened more than once that she’s burst into tears when made fun of, or sulked for days before clearing the air, much to the bewilderment of her fellows. She fears loneliness more than being embarrassed, however, and is quick to forgive.

18-Carat Run of Bad Luck: Electronics have a habit of breaking in her hands -- they just stop working sometimes. She swears she didn’t do anything wrong! Her frustration at this and the apparent ineptitude with fancy pre-war stuff it betrays was part of her motivation to go down the path of the Knight and not the path of the Scribe.

Personality: Having been born a Vault Dweller has shaped Laura’s personality and still determines most of her values and morals. She grew up surrounded exclusively by other humans, having never seen a Ghoul or a Super Mutant until she was a grown woman, and finds it difficult to empathise with them -- not to mention that they were responsible for the death of her father. The Brotherhood’s mission of keeping dangerous technology out of the hands of others seems noble enough to her and their adherence to hierarchy and protocol is familiar to her, bearing a strong resemblance to the regimented life of a Vault Dweller. Therefore, it was an easy decision to sign up.

When it comes to regular people, Laura is as personable as it gets -- the very opposite of a lone wolf. Kind, helpful and supportive, it’s in Laura’s nature to be a positive force for the people at her side. She knows what it’s like to be stuck with the same people day in and day out, working as a team, and makes the most of it, trying to befriend everyone and keep close the people she cares about. She’s been in a few relationships but nothing too serious and especially now that she’s got something to prove in the Brotherhood, she isn’t actively looking for something to distract her from her goals. Friends, on the other hand… can’t have enough of those.

Her anger ebbs away as quickly as it comes on in the hot flashes of emotional outbursts, and while she’s courageous, sure, Laura is far from the fearlessness of a dyed-in-the-wool Paladin. In short, she’s not quite as much in control over her emotions as she wants to be. There’s still much room for her to grow. Her fear of spiders is her only phobia, but Laura is also susceptible to more ordinary fears: to be found wanting or weak is something she works very hard to avoid, and her worst nightmares are filled with the idea that there is no hope for the world after all, and that she will be resigned to returning to Vault 49 empty-handed, with nothing to show for their mission but the death of her father.

She misses him dearly and hopes that he is proud of what she has become, for he had just as much of an idealistic view of what the world could be as Laura herself did. This idealism expresses itself in a fascination, bordering on an obsession, with the Brotherhood of Steel, its mission and its people -- especially the leaders. People like Elder Maxson and Paladin Danse are living legends to Laura and she uses her spare time to record the Brotherhood for posterity and capture its spirit in her drawings. On the other hand, Laura is aware that it was never part of the plan for her and Thaddeus to go missing indefinitely and the day will come that she must return to Vault 49 to establish two-way communication with the nexus of civilization that she’s found: the Brotherhood. She wants to prove herself before it comes to that, however.

Short Background: If there was ever an experimental purpose to Vault 49, it has been long lost to memory. Located in the remote wilderness of Montana, the Vault has been open for a long time and its inhabitants make by with a combination of the hydroponics plant inside the facility and the resources they can gather from the surrounding hills and countryside. Being such a rural location, the vicinity of the Vault was spared the worst of the bombardments and there are still relatively verdant areas in which wildlife roams and sometimes even flourishes.

Laura’s father was part of the recon-teams, armed with hunting rifles and Vault security armor, that made sure the area around the Vault remained safe and that the hunter-gatherers could do their work in peace. Her mother worked in the hydroponics plant and was an artist in her spare time, drawing and painting portraits of the Vault Dwellers as they went about their lives or posed for her brush -- in lieu of a functioning camera, Sarah’s work was the closest they could get to a record of their lives. Laura’s earliest memory is of her mother at work and her second-oldest memory is of her mother sharing her pencils with her and patiently teaching her how to draw.

As the years went by, a nagging question developed in the back of the Vault Dwellers’ minds: what happened to everyone else? Montana seemed to be empty, but surely there would still be some form of civilization elsewhere? The recon-teams began to range farther and farther, staying away for weeks at a time, as they explored the remains of the Old World around them. Laura and one of her brothers, Thaddeus, born with the same inquisitive streak as their father, began training as soon as they were able, eager to follow in their father’s footsteps, and many an hour was spent on the shooting range and pouring over old maps to familiarize themselves with the lay of the land. Their other siblings (Joseph, Karen and Robert) had no interest in the world around them and focused on life in the Vault, but Laura and Thaddeus dreamed of the day they would follow their father, Deckard, into the world and on a mission that would reconnect Vault 49 with the rest of the world -- and Laura dreamed of capturing it all on paper, armed with her pencils and erasers, just like her mother had taught her.

While she had friends and even a string of boyfriends growing up, Laura’s mind was fixed on the unknown world above the surface and the only thing that never failed to rapturously capture her interest were her father’s stories whenever he returned to the Vault. He told her about the beasts they’d fought and the vistas they’d seen, but Deckard could never shake the melancholy from his voice. The world was empty. In all their travels, they’d never found another living human. There was evidence of post-war civilization, for they did find ramshackle huts and overgrown shelters, but they were all abandoned. Where had the people gone, they wondered?

The day of truth came shortly after Laura’s 18th birthday. Together with a few other members of the recon-teams, Deckard, Thaddeus and Laura prepared themselves for a long expedition to the east coast, towards what had been the bastion of authority of the United States of American: Washington D.C., the Capital Wasteland. They set off with as many supplies they could carry, armed to the teeth and each of them willing to lay down their lives for the good of the mission. They felt like the astronauts of old, who had been the first to set foot on the moon, as they set off into the unknown -- on foot.

It took them months. Where Montana had been empty and verdant, the other states they encountered were quite different… and some of them outright hostile. As they came closer to the coast they began to encounter other humans and found to their dismay, their initial joy overturned, that many of these communities were xenophobic, beleagered by raiders and hazardous creatures, or dangerous themselves, and the Vault Dwellers faced suspicion or violence wherever they went. Shootouts and firefights became common and Laura’s initial shock in the face of bullets whizzing past her head was quickly replaced by grim determination. They started out with 15 men and women. By the time they reached the edge of the Capital Wasteland, there were only 8 of them left. Deathclaws, raiders and Ghouls had taken the others, and Laura was haunted in her nightmares by memories of their scouting party being stalked at night by giant predators or cut to pieces by deranged, filthy lunatics on drugs. Despite her best intentions, her sketchbook was mostly empty and her pencils remained sharp. There was precious little in this world that she wanted to remember, let alone record for history’s sake. That said, she resolved not to have these experiences shape her opinion of the human race and the world; there had to be something more. What was the purpose of the Vault, if not to preserve them for the future? That meant that there had to be a future worth experiencing, surely?

Their answer came as they reached the Capital Wasteland. Tragically, just before the finish line, Deckard was killed by the party’s first encounter with a group of Super Mutants, as were three of the others. Thaddeus and Laura were among the very few final survivors when the Brotherhood of Steel arrived by glorious Vertibird and destroyed the Super Mutant force within minutes. There was the future she had been waiting for: valiant men and women in giant suits of armor, like the old pre-war photographs, fighting for a better world. Eternally grateful and with nowhere else to go, Laura and Thaddeus buried their father and immediately signed up to join the heroes that had avenged his death, while the other survivors of their scouting party decided to rest and enjoy the cradle of civilization that the Capital had to offer. Pretty soon, Laura and Thaddeus lost track of them and threw themselves fully into the life of the Brotherhood.

They were always close but grew even closer after Deckard’s death. They were strangers in a strange land and while the Brotherhood was welcoming and reassuring in its organisation and honorable conduct, the inescapable truth was that they were each other’s only link to their old lives in the Vault. The two siblings initially envisioned themselves riding and dying together, but it became evident that they had different paths to follow. Laura wanted to be a Knight in shining armor, whereas Thaddeus was more fascinated by the angelic, flying vehicle that had delivered their saviours in their hour of need. They argued fiercely, for they had promised to never abandon one another, but neither could be swayed. Thaddeus would be a pilot and Laura would be a warrior. Once the matter was settled, there were no hard feelings and they agreed to keep in contact and see each other as much as possible, but not to the detriment of their respective careers.

Laura took to making friends easily and her skills as an artist, a are quality in the wastelands of the 23rd century, made her popular with the rank-and-file and officers of the Brotherhood alike. It wasn’t long before Laura found herself drawing the likeness of Paladins and Senior Scribes, though the day that she will be allowed to capture Elder Maxson eludes her still. She wanted to be more than just the Brotherhood’s remembrancer, however, and focused on her training as much as anything else. The girl that had trekked from Montana to Washington proved herself to be as quiet as the night and as unseen as the wind and it was these talents that gave her drill-sergeants the idea to teach her the art of marksmanship. Laura took to it quickly and receiving the bullseye-patch of a designated marksman was one of the proudest achievements of her life.

Now, after a few years spent learning the Brotherhood’s history and machinations, familiarizing herself with the remnants of civilization on the east coast, wrapping up her training and blunting her status as a total greenhorn on patrols and tech retrieval missions, Laura -- or as her newfound brothers and sisters know her, Initiate Grimshaw -- has been selected to prove her mettle on a rescue operation in the mysterious Commonwealth while her brother Thaddeus completes his Lancer training back in the Capital Wasteland. She’s excited and ready, though she wonders… when will it be time to return home and tell everyone, her mother and her other siblings, of the world she found?

[Dion]

Gregory McDowell

You know the problem with muties? They hit hard, but not hard enough to break T-51 power armor.

Name: Gregory McDowell,

Date of Birth: 2249/04/11, 35 years old.

Sex: Male

Place of Birth: Boston, MA, United States of America

Path: Knight

Rank: Knight-Sergeant

Equipment:

• T-51B power armor set. Gotta keep the squad alive, and the best way to do it is to stand in front of them with a suit of armor that weighs enough to crush a grown man. It is, of course, patriotically painted in the colors of the Brotherhood of Steel -- which is to say, metallic and boring, and only with a logo of the BoS on the chest piece. Underneath, 'Ad Victoriam' is scratched into the metal using a sharp implement.
• Super-sledge. When you're busy protecting and saving lives by being a hero standing in front of your partners, the best way to also do some damage is by swinging a rocket-powered sledgehammer in the general direction of the enemy. Gregory was given this weapon for two reasons - first and foremost, because he's not intelligent enough to use laser weaponry in a way that doesn't endanger those around him, and secondarily, he has the physical strength required to control a powerful weapon like this.
• Brotherhood-fatigues. Can't be repping the Brotherhood of Steel where-ever you go without this key piece of equipment. 'sides, they're comfortable as hell, man.
• Pocket lint. That means to say that a melee weapon professional such as Gregory doesn't need to carry anything other than his armor, his guns (muscles) and his sledgehammer. He'd make the scribe nerds carry his personal affects, if he chose to have any.

Notable Talents:

• No-no word strength/Human Supermutant. Gregory is seriously strong. No, seriously. He will flat out break your hand from a handshake, he'll destroy anyone in an arm wrestling competition, even if they use power armor to assist them hydraulically, and he can punch a mean hole in the wall when he's angry. Some rude rumors say his mom must've been a super mutant, but we all know that's impossible.
• Survival Instincts. Gregory lacks the (emotional) intelligence to really be affected by pansy things such as 'combat losses' and 'dead family members.' He's in the Brotherhood of Steel to SMASH, not to talk about his feelings and stuff like that. Gregory is less likely to be affected by psychological struggle because he is capable of 'turning off' his emotions and relying on pure human instincts, reminiscent of a gorilla or ape when he does so. Where others might need to use their brain to deduct certain situations, edibles or entities are positive and/or negative, this seems to come natural to Gregory who seems to understand these things on an animalistic primal level. If he had a catchphrase for when enemies were nearby, or food was poisoned or radiated, it'd be "I have a ba-a-a-a-ad feeling about this," or something to that effect.
• Human Superiority. Ghouls and Supermutants are disgusting creatures that are in every way inferior to humans (even if they are immune to radiation, are physically stronger, and other superior traits that humans don't have) and need to be eradicated if the Brotherhood of Steel ever wants to rebuild a strong, safe America. While Gregory doesn't know about the latter part of that sentence, he certainly knows Rotskins and Muties are bad and the devil and deserve to be destroyed. Synths are probably worse, but he's not smart enough to know of their existence. What this means in practical term is that he will fight ten times as hard against inferior creatures that are not human. Screw you stinkskins.

Laughable Failings:

• Intelligence: 1. Gregory was not academically gifted and has the intelligence to match it. Some people are dropped on their head as a kid or exposed to a little bit too much radiation. The truth is Gregory was probably dropped on his head onto a leaky radiation vat, numerous times. To say he is 'dumb' is generous, as this man consistently has baffled scribes and lancers alike with his complete and utter disregard of knowledge, wisdom, and practical know how. It seems that the only thing that fills this mans brain is knowledge on how to best connect a sledge hammer with a mutant face.
• Flat-earth Stubborn. While Gregory is not really a flat earther, he could very well be. It's just that he's too much of a PATRIOT to believe that the American government would have lied to their own population. They'd never do that. And besides, America is so great they landed on the moon, and more! He saw the spaceship himself, after all, when he went exploring in that old museum, therefore it must be true. No, what this means is that Gregory is unwilling to budge from his (biased) beliefs, ever, even if you provide evidence that without a doubt proves him wrong. You could take him to see the earth was round (for example) and he'd still maintain otherwise.
• Dependent. Much like his bunkerborn counterparts, Gregory is completely and totally dependent on a) propaganda and b) superiors to keep him moving. He has no capacity for critical self thinking, and instead relies on orders to fulfill his duties. He's more than capable of choosing to swing his sledgehammer at a ghoul mid-combat even if he's not ordered to, but anything that requires much more autonomy than that is going to be a real task to him. While some might call this discipline, it is entirely detriment to the functioning of the Brotherhood of Steel as a large organism, as it severely hampers the ability to make quick decisions using discretion. It is unlikely for this reason that Gregory will ever fulfill a leadership role that doesn't involve mindlessly charging into the enemy lines to kill them as hard as you can.

Personality: Gregory's personality is simple - he hates ghouls, mutants, and he'd hate synths if he knew what they were or that they existed. He loves the Brotherhood -- all of them -- and considers them his long lost family. In particular, he loves his superiors, because they are wise and tell him what to do, and so far every time he has done something, it turned out well, so clearly the superiors must be in charge for a reason. All of them also look like the amazing posters that the scribes print and draw that show off how cool, strong and wise the Brotherhood of Steel is. So, they're more like superheroes to him.

He wants to be like them one day, and get to tell everyone else how to smash Supermutants and ghouls over the head with weapons.

On a more personal level, Gregory is decently social, although you can't expect him to carry a conversation about anything that doesn't involve a hundred and one ways to creatively kill ghouls or mutants. Discussing the finer workings of literature, art or culture is something he is not interested in (and will actively mock you for, doing his best to mimic what you sound like, while not at all managing to do so correctly), and telling him he has to 'go easy on the gears when he's using power armor' will just cause him to laugh and say 'you fixed it for me anyway, so I can go break them again.'

He's an idiot. Not much more can be said, and not much more need be said. But if there is anyone you want close by when the supermutants attack, it's Gregory -- he'll stand in front of you and protect you with careless disregard for his own life and safety.

Short Background: Growing up in Boston exposed Gregory at an early age to various people of different creeds, religions (he saw an Atom preacher once, swears it on his life) and ethnicities. He also came in contact with those filthy mutants and ghouls from time to time. Mutants mostly whenever they decided to go raid their settlement, and the ghouls whenever those filthy rotskins from up North came by with their swimmingpool wine. He never liked em, the lot of em, and was very judgemental of them and anyone that associated with them. Even as a kid he knew these people were no good.

He was proven right when a ghoul was caught stealing, and this cemented his belief that they were all bad. It didn't matter that a ghoul later saved a settlement caravan from being raided by tipping them off about raiders. He was just in cahoots with them, and trying to betray them, or something to that effect. Screw ghouls.

It had become apparent early on that Gregory was, for all intents and purposes, intellectually challenged, and so he was promised a life of practicality. He'd be a caravan hand at that settlement with the big spire (lord knows Gregory couldn't remember it's name) and carry produce from the shelves to the brahmin and back. Maybe he'd fight a few raiders with his strength, but that was about all that was expected of him.

Needless to say things turned out a little bit differently. He was 16 when he joined his first caravan, but if one had to guess from his stature, he was already mid-twenties, since he was hulking and massive. The caravan was headed South, traveling to the Pitt to deliver some custom parts or something to that effect. Gregory was not privy to the details of these types of trade deals and even if he was he would not have remembered.

Along the way they were ambushed by super mutants, who killed the brahmin first and everyone else second. Gregory would have died there if it weren't for a Brotherhood of Steel scouting party that had come to scout the Boston airport for... reasons. They dealt with the Supermutants, routing them by virtue of their miniguns and laser rifles, and secured the position before heading out.

They took Gregory with them, promoting him temporarily to a conscript to secure him a rank in the Brotherhood so that the Elder could decide what to do with him.

He never got to meet the Elder (of course) but was simply put to use as a young initiate, moving through the ranks slowly but surely using his strength as great leverage. He mastered the usage of power armor slowly, his intellect or lack thereof getting in the way, but finally did it and was promoted to knight at the ripe age of 26. Some four years later, he'd find himself promoted again to Knight-Sergeant, giving him a nice little upgrade from T45 power armor to T51 power armor, and access to a supersledge. Now that, that was something that Gregory could get used to.

And then, here he was. Meathead Gregory, at your service. Ad Victoriam, brothers!

[spicykvnt]

Dr. Kinsley, Harper

Name: Dr. Harper Diane Kinsley

Date of Birth: 13-07-2241 (43 years old)

Sex: Female

Appearance:

Dr. Kinsley stands at an average height of 5’4 with a thin and borderline scrawny build. Her skin is pale, and not in an attractive porcelain way, more that the colour has been drained from her - through lack of sleep, and poor nutrition, constant worry and a general feeling of indifference to really take care of herself. Despite all of this, she is no old looking woman, quite the opposite in fact - her good and healthy methods earlier in life have left her skin in good shape and she has only a few wrinkles - most prominently around her eyes. At first glance, it is easy to pass Harper off as having always looked dishevelled, but once a person looks hard enough, they can see that a beautiful and happy woman once lived inside of the cracked shell.

The clues are in the way she does sincerely smile - it’s the smile that used to light up a family home, and her laughter was the music. Her body was once more womanly; she carried and bore a daughter, gave life and love in abundance, but such selflessness has been stripped away, taking with it streaks of auburn from her hair - leaving behind framing strands of grey. Her hair falls to the middle of her back in loose waves with a side swept fringe.

Whatever authority and confidence that Harper once spoke with, like much of the rest of her attributes, has withered. She is now incredibly soft spoken, speaking quietly most of the time. One would be a fool to think that she is soft at heart, however, for what her voice lacks, her eyes make way for. Her blue, wide eyes can very quickly command the energy that does not project in her voice - and many have learned this the hard way, that fire can indeed take hold of water.

Chowder

---

Place of Birth: New California Republic

Path: Scribe

Rank: Senior Scribe

Equipment:
Chowder
Clothing
Weapons
Roll of Surgical Tools (Inside satchel)
First Aid Kit (Inside satchel)
Bottles of Sterilising Equipment (Inside satchel)
Mysterious Vial

Notable Talents:
Medical Hero

For all intents and purposes, and quirks aside, Dr. Kinsley is in fact an incredible doctor. Having been taught in human biology from a young age. She was something of a prodigy even as a trainee in a New California clinic where she spent her twenties practicing, before travelling out with her husband and the Followers of the Apocalypse. She took her clinical mind to the outside world, to real and instant trauma. She learned quick and fast during that time, before returning to her neurological research. It’s safe to say that in Dr. Kinsley’s hands, you’ve little to worry about.

Everyday I’m Puzzlin’

She has an incredibly logical mind, and is a fantastic problem solver. She enjoys intellectual puzzles, particularly linguistic or mathematical ones. Solving puzzles is one of the few things she presently takes joy in, and her skills translate beyond being able to figure out the answer to a riddle - but in the real world too. She can make logical decisions with ease, without being too tangled up in emotional aspects. She excels in analysing connections, linking together seemingly unrelated factors in a way that might confuse someone else.

Smart Cookie

Dr. Kinsley has a vast knowledge of the world around her - perhaps a combination of her age and experience, and her naturally quick mind for absorbing information. She is well versed in history and politics, in geography and how the land physically works, of animal species, and of course, human biology. She’s smart as a tack, and she isn’t afraid to let people know this.

Laughable Failings:
Unfiltered Honesty

Harper says what she thinks with ease. She doesn't sugar coat her words, and she's not the kind of person you'd go crying to, unless you wanted brutal honesty. None of it comes from malice, just from her own pit of hopelessness. The lack of filter slips over into what appears to be a lack of interest in others personal lives.

Hard of Hearing

Got too close to a gun firing off once, and it’s left her a little hard of hearing on her left side - not to mention the near constant ringing of tinnitus plaguing her. Both of these things tend to tick away at her patience. This is a more recent ailment she’s been afflicted with since travelling with the Brotherhood of Steel. People have learned to speak up when talking to her, and to understand that she’s not the best courier of messages… They often tend to change on their way.

Insomniac

Dr. Kinsley’s mind is too active, too turned over with pain to ever really allow her to sleep fully. She gets a few hours here and there, but for the most part, she tosses and turns, or simply gives up and goes for light night adventures. Usually pacing back and forth, relaxing in a chair, or completing even more puzzles. She doesn’t really seem to care that she sleeps in short bursts. Her pacing and chuntering late at night might well bother others, however.

Personality:
A natural intellectual, her way of thinking offers a lot of insight into the world around her, but for the most part, Dr. Kinsley sees that world as an intrusion to her innermost thoughts. She is guilty of absent-mindedness when her interest is captured, usually by a puzzle of some kind, she can forget where she is entirely to the point of rudeness. She is private, withdrawn, and shy and so very little is known of her, just that she is good at what she does and does it without much of a fuss.

What is known, however, is that she is direct in her communication, and does not mince her words. It is not too much of a secret that Dr. Kinsley sees the world as meaningless, her eyes are often glazed over with gloom and that transcends in her social interactions. When one is so indifferent to the world around them, it can be liberating in that one can say what they like without fear of consequence. It is less appealing to those around her, even if in a way, her downhearted comments and topics of conversation are somewhat endearing.

Her honesty can also be refreshing, between the lines of melancholy, there is often genuinely helpful nuggets of wisdom that most certainly come from the warmth that she does have left, particularly for those who make an effort to get to know her beyond her outward quirks.

Life isn’t all a spiral of darkness, and there are brief moments where Dr. Kinsley will light up with joy, and smile from her heart. In those moments, colour seems to momentarily return and she possesses a maternal grace that hasn’t completely left her. But yes, those moments are fleeting and rare — but the longer she spends with people, being useful, the more such moments beat back the darkness.

Short Background:

First Day - 2260

Ummm, hello! It’s me, Harper Howard, and today is my first day practicing medicine!

Really practicing. Not just reading books, but actually being amongst patients and senior doctors. I wanted to start this diary… To keep, and remember everything. To record the things that I do and learn, things that I achieve. To keep and preserve it. Preservation is important, after all.

But I don’t know. It feels silly talking to myself - or to you, this thing… Maybe if you’re someone listening to this in the future, it's because I was a famed surgeon! That I saved so many lives - maybe this is used in your school. If that’s the case… Good luck doctors of tomorrow! Or, maybe in the future these recordings are just… stashed in a drawer somewhere - gathering dust… Oh my. I can’t really say, but to the topic at hand…

It’s my first day in the clinic. Dad got me my tools for the occasion. They’re so proud, Mom and Dad. I hope they stay proud.

Oh, please don’t let someone die on me on my first day…

Alex - 2264

I met someone today.

His name is Alex.

He’s another Doctor, but he travels with the Followers of the Apocalypse. I’ve heard of them, I’ve seen them occasionally but not this… close up I suppose. Anyway, Alex… He came to the clinic and we talked a little, he didn’t stay for long but he left me with a crossword for some reason. Some strange puzzle. It was ridiculously easy to complete.

I actually finished it so quickly that I had time to draw a puzzle of my own to give him. That’s if he comes back.

If he wants to come back, I mean. Why would he do that though it’s not like he showed any signs of liking me or anything… Not that I like him! I’m putting it on record that I don’t like him.

I don’t like him.

In news more relevant to my recordings, I successfully took several skin grafts for a patient today. My stitches are perfect, and Dr. Wilson said that I can start looking to an area of research I’d like to do; of course I want to look at the spine, the nervous system. It’s ambitious, but there’s so much opportunity there. We know so very little about neurology, really. There’s… still discoveries to be made.

I know it.

Unknown - 2265

I am now Mrs. Harper Kinsley…

Flower Arrangement - 2269

I had a death today.

I got too arrogant that it hadn’t happened until now. I was flying on wings of hubris and I messed up. Alex told me that these things happen. But the very reason I’m doing this is so that people don’t have to die. I do this because I want to save people. If I can’t, then what is the point?

Still, there’s so much to be learned. Her tumour… It was beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. Spread across her frontal lobe like a flower arrangement. Advanced astrocytoma to a glioblastoma. One of the worst I’ve seen, but I just… I had to try.

I had to. She had months, if that. Her tumour had reached the optic chiasm and was affecting her vision.

I thought I could remove it. I’d drawn it, dreamt it. Everything I looked at was that damned tumour. I thought to just dismantle it. Several approaches all at once, but I was wrong. It was impossible.

Magnificent - 2270

Good morning world! Whoever is listening to this recording, you're in for something amazing today! You might be wondering who this handsome sounding man is, that’s right - it’s Dr. Alex Kinsley, husband of Dr. Harper Kinsley…

No recording from my wife today - but I’m watching her right now as she finishes up in surgery. She’s removing a hemangioblastoma, initially we thought she would have to cut the spinal cord to paralyse the patient and cut off its blood supply… But not my wife.

We’re approaching hour seventeen and she’s still going.

My magnificent wife is going to make a man walk again.

Expecting - 2271

I’m halfway through my pregnancy now. I’ve been so emotional, this last month, it’s a beautiful gift. I feel so strong and powerful creating this life, this perfect life inside of me. I haven’t stopped working - and of course people advised against it, but having this miracle inside me just gives me more drive. I want to make a safe world for my child, I want to discover everything there is to discover. I don’t have time to rest, and as always, Alex is on my side.

I caught him the other day singing a lullaby, practicing a song for our baby.

I feel so lucky. Even in this world of nothing, of horrors… I can just look at Alex, think of what we’ve achieved, the lives we’ve saved… How could that world be so bad?

We’re going to name a girl after my mother. Victoria. But if we have a boy, then after Alex’s father, Joseph.

I feel like she's a girl though. I just... With every kick she feels like my Victoria. Like a best friend just waiting to be brought into the world. I already love her so much, and I didn’t think it was possible to be so full of love - to the brim of my cup and over, to a puddle at my feet that is warm and real and right there.

I always thought my destiny was to be a doctor, a surgeon - to save lives but maybe being a mother is my destiny… Creating this life. Or you know, it can always be both. Destiny is limitless. Opportunities are endless.

Wow, I told you I was emotional...

Man’s Best Friend - 2273

We got a dog.

Or should I say, Alex and Victoria got a dog. For some reason, the dog doesn’t seem to like me as much as he likes Alex and Victoria. We’ve had him for eight months now, and he just destroys all of my things— all of them! And yet none of theirs. I think I’m just not really a dog person, but that’s okay because Victoria is.

The two are inseparable. They’re best friends. Chowder sleeps at the bottom of her bed, and the first thing she ever wants is her puppy, and the last thing she wants at night is her puppy. Gone are the days when she just wanted to be held by her mother. Now she just wants to hold her dog.

Oh, and I know, I know. It’s a dumb name, but that’s for some reason, what Miss Victoria picked to name him and… Honestly? He suits it.

He’s a good dog, I’m glad that they have each other.

Sick - 2281

Alex and Victoria are sick.

They’re really sick, actually. They’d been out together and they came back sick. Temperatures are way down. They’re malaised, coughing and wheezing. Occasional bleeding from the face - notably around their gums. The blood instantly coagulates. Their eyes are red, they’re in and out of consciousness.

I thought it was pneumonia. But the bleeding, and then the rashes. It’s more than pneumonia. They’re confused, slurring. I don’t have the supplies out here to help them, and I don’t think I have time to collect anything — I don’t even know what this is.

Parasitic pneumonia? Uniquely infects people of their blood type, because I’m fine, and I’ve been exposed to them for hours.

Why don’t I know what to do? Why can’t I figure this out?

-

-

I spent my career studying tumours. Fucking tumours. I should have been studying disease, haematology - God, anything but fucking tumours. Studying disease would have been smart. I just thought I was special, that it was my purpose to personally cut fucking tumours out of peoples bodies.

I wanted to be special. I should have been doing something important. I thought I knew everything… If I’d studied disease then I could figure this out. What if I can’t save them?

What if I can’t protect our little girl?

Alex would know how to fix this.

Unknown - 2281

I buried my baby today. Next to her Father.

She’s gone, she… She just didn’t wake up.

I fell asleep and when I woke up... She was gone.

I buried my little girl.

God damn it Chowder, shut the fuck up!

Promise - 2281

I’m here.

Just me and Chowder now. I can’t cry, because he cries louder.

His little girl is gone and I can’t explain to him that she’s not coming back. I can’t translate death into a concept that this dog can understand.

She was my little girl too.

I have to look at this damn dog everyday, knowing that he just wants her. All I want is her too. I got all this love, and nowhere to place it.

That’s grief. Grief is the love left over that has nowhere to go.

I have nowhere to go.

But I promised her I’d look after her dog.

I have nowhere to go until he’s gone.

He has to go back to them before I can.

The End - 2282

This is my last entry.

I used to think these recordings were important. Turns out this entire tape is just a mausoleum.

I helped out some kid with the Brotherhood of Steel today. Patched him up and got him on his feet. Chowder seemed to like him. His group asked if I wanted to travel with them. Helping someone felt good, I suppose.

They don’t seem to mind the dog, or that I look like shit. They just need a scalpel, and I have one.

Maybe travelling with this faction will get Chowder in some action and wear him out for his sleep.

And then I get to follow him, back to them.

One last good deed to say goodbye.

[lavenderdame]

Brown, Patricia "Patty"

Name: Patricia "Patty" Brown

Date of Birth: March 28, 2258 (26 Years Old)

Sex: Female

Place of Birth: The Citadel, Capital Wasteland

Path: Knight

Rank: Knight

Equipment:

• T-45 Power Armor, blending old and new iconography, it is painted black and red in Outcast fashion, with a red BoS insignia on the front and Knight's insignia on the arms to denote rank and membership within the reformed Brotherhood
• Outcast Recon Armor, red and black underarmor for the T-45
• Automatic AER9 Laser Rifle
• Ripper
• Duffle Bag, slung over the shoulder of the power armor and resting snugly against the back. Contains basic needs: rations, a first-aid kit, a large blanket, etc. Plenty of empty room for anything that might be picked up along the way.
• Repair Kit, a basic set of tools for repairing weapons in the field.
• Energy Cells x6
• Fusion Cores x2

Notable Talents:
Wasteland Engineering: The Outcasts' departure from Lyons' Brotherhood left them without much of the sophisticated machinery and resources available to their brothers in the Citadel. With only a handful of weapons, tools, and suits of power armor at their disposal, the Outcasts made due by scouring the wasteland for scrap. Patty's years in the Outcasts have taught her that even the stuff that scavvers might overlook as rubbish have value: either as parts for mods, raw materials for maintenance and repair of equipment, or even just as small knick-knacks to add to her collection. Although her equipment now is pristine, thanks to the reunification of the Brotherhood, there was a time when Patty could've been seen in a patchwork suit of power armor and a laser rifle held together with parts from a toaster.

Survivalist: The Outcasts once patrolled the breadth of the Capital Wasteland, from Fort Constantine in the north to their base at Fort Independence in the south. When you find yourself spending several days away from base at a time, learning to orient yourself in the wasteland became a valuable skill. While Moira Brown was writing the Wasteland Survival Guide, Patty and her Brothers were living it: among the skills she picked up were where and how to find food and water, including which wasteland plants and animals were fit to eat and how to prepare them; how to orient yourself in the wasteland using the sun, moon, and stars; and how to navigate using landmarks.

Guerilla Tactics: It is said that the Brotherhood of Steel lost more members when the Outcasts left than they ever lost fighting the super mutants and that may be true - but the Outcasts were never an exceptionally large force. Without any recruitment policy, the life of every member was amplified ten-fold. An Outcast never forsakes his brothers, and their tactics reflect this core principle: to preserve their numbers, the Outcasts fought in small units, to strike hard and fast to whittle down their opponents'defenses over time as opposed to costly, drawn-out battles. The first step to planning a fight is to plan your escape, and if retreat saves the lives of your Brothers there's no dishonor in that.

Laughable Failings:
Feel the Rush of a Warm Laser in Your Hands: Good luck trying to convince Patty to use anything besides tried-and-true energy weapons. A laser pistol is an elegant weapon from a more civilized time. Besides, nothing's more satisfying than seeing a degenerate rot-brain dissolve into a pile of ashes before your eyes.

"Keep an eye out for those locals.": Patty is wary of wastelanders at best, outright hostile to them at worst. She lacks the charisma to negotiate with anyone who isn't a member of the Brotherhood and is reluctant to rely on them for any assistance beyond bartering for supplies and scavenged technology. The mission comes first, we're not here to make friends or play hero.

Hot-Headed: Friendly banter between comrades-in-arms is par for the course, but when it comes to real fighting words, Patty prefers to skip straight to the fighting. Unless she's kept in check, violence is almost always the answer when someone - or something - is being particularly difficult. Easily frustrated when things don't go to plan, Patty's rage has gotten her into her fair share of sticky encounters.

Personality:
Patty's dedication to the cause can be denied by none: she was born into the Brotherhood and she'll die a Brotherhood soldier. She holds no qualms in eradicating ghouls, supermutants, and their ilk. However, she believes that the truest threat to the Brotherhood - and all mankind - lies in the misuse of pre-war technology. It was this conviction that led her to follow the Outcasts, technology must be kept out of the hands of those who would seek to abuse it. However, despite her zealous adherence values of the Brotherhood, a model soldier she is not; what she is is foul-mouthed, hot tempered, and at times insubordinate. However, with the Brotherhood back on track under Elder Maxson and with the blessing of the council out west she's more than happy to lend her body to the cause once again.

She's what some might call a compulsive hoarder - well, maybe that's not fair. Its just a little bit of trophy hunting - little knick-knacks and reminders of missions gone well or awry. She sees it as an appreciation for the finer things in life, alongside booze, cards and women. She also has a habit of picking up junk to break down for parts later - a carry over from her days with the Outcasts, scouring the wastes for technology and scrap to make a home out of Fort Independence. She's fiercely loyal to her Brothers, and is willing to charge headlong into danger to make sure no man is left behind, locals however are a different story.

Short Background:
Patty is a brotherhood soldier, through and through. Her mother was a well-respected Paladin, and her father served as Knight Captain. From the youngest age, it seemed that Patty would follow in her parents' footsteps and she was never one to disappoint. She trained in the Citadel as a squire and quickly rose through the ranks to be raised as Knight by her eighteenth birthday. Unfortunately, that same year, tensions within the Lyons' Brotherhood would reach a boiling point. Discontent with Elder Lyons' endless campaigns against the super mutants of DC, many Brotherhood soldiers left for Fort Independence to form what would come to be called the Brotherhood Outcasts. Among those who left were her parents - and the newly-knighted Patty. While she had received her training in Lyon's Brotherhood, it was the Outcasts who taught her what it meant to be a Brotherhood soldier.

The mission of the Outcasts was clear: a return to the original purpose of the Brotherhood of Steel, they were to scavenge the wasteland collecting dangerous technology for safekeeping. The Outcasts were always the true continuation of the Brotherhood of Steel and those seven years in exile were the price they paid for the truth. Those were a long and bloody seven years, but despite being surrounded on all sides by raiders, mutants, and even their former brothers, the Outcasts pulled through. Patty's skill as a soldier was forged in the fiery crucible of the Capital Wasteland. After the death of Elder Lyons, the newly-raised Elder Maxson welcomed the Outcasts back into the fold. Patty, for one, was glad to finally see a return of the Brotherhood to its core principles and the reestablishment of their connection to the west.

It's been a year since the reunification of the Brotherhood, but the scars still run deep. Patty continues to struggle adapting to the rigid discipline of Maxson's Brotherhood and still wears her Outcast colors proudly - earning her frequent side-eyes from former Lyons veterans. The wounds of the schism are still fresh, but she is willing to bury the hatchet. Well, she's trying, at least.

[Cazzer1604]

Samuel "Sami" Brown

Name: Samuel "Sami" Brown

Date of Birth: 15th September 2257 (that makes him 27)

Sex: Male

Appearance: Sami is an average 5'11, and not a particularly imposing man but not weak-looking either. He does however have a tradesman's build, with thick strong arms and calloused hands from a life spent in some sort of garage.

He is dark-skinned, with a tone comparable to espresso. He maintains his wiry hair with a high fade down the back and sides, with a parting line clippered in on his left hand side. He maintains a perma-stubble which can sometimes threaten to become a beard if he's busy working on a troublesome project. He possesses no scars or indications of any wounds, at least not yet.

(For a celebrity comparison, see Jussie Smollett)

Place of Birth: Rivet City, Capital Wasteland

Path: Lancer

Rank: Lancer

Equipment:

- A Pre-War MP-40 (Sami calls it 'Pez') with a extendable stock and leather strap, modified to take extended 10mm ammunition as a 10mm pistol would

(Story Time: Sami found an MP-40 in pristine condition in the basement of a house outside DC, hidden in a safe inside a metal briefcase alongside a woolen jacket and a strange red flag with an X on it. The safe was behind a poster of some guy with a strange moustache. Sami of course didn't really understand the meaning of what he found, except a cool and unique submachine gun, a nice coat and one of the many flags of the old world, which he left behind)

- A light grey woolen jacket adorned with BoS insignia and patches

(Story Time: This is actually a jacket of the Wehrmacht soldier during WW2, kept in pristine condition thanks to the safe. Again, Sami doesn't know the significance of it, and got rid of the original patches and insignia on it almost instantly, he doesn't really care for birds that much)

- A basic 9mm pistol strapped to his thigh in a simple black holster

- Standard BoS Lancer uniform that he wears under his jacket when outside.

- 5 clips of 10mm, 3 clips of 9mm, attached to pouches on his leather military belt

- An assortment of tools for mechanical and maintenance purposes

Notable Talents:

Weapons Tinkerer: Years of experience of mechanical tasks has allowed Sami to develop an understanding of how to modify conventional weapons, and it has developed into somewhat of a hobby for him. He can maintain and fix gun issues with relative ease, but isn't quite at Macgyver levels.

Vertibird Mechanic: As a Lancer, Sami's primary role is to maintain the BoS' Vertibirds, a skill that naturally applies to other vehicles as well. He can also fly them, but is by no means a hotshot or particularly skilled pilot.

Cool Cat: Sami is a naturally gregarious and charming individual (to those receptive to human interaction). He manages to maintain an air of effortless cool and charisma, which makes him very popular and especially so with the ladies (the civilised ones, at least).

Laughable Failings:

Can't read word good: Sami's upbringing was not one surrounded by books and learned men. A wrench is his pen, engines his paper, and the sounds of pistons and steam his education. He is trying to learn after learning about the merits of books though, through a poetry collection gifted to him by a wanderer passing through Rivet City. He often attempts to recite it to his conquered romances, to their humour and his embarrassment.

Puppy Syndrome: Sami can get pretty stoked about things, and is eager to express this to others, like a puppy. When they reject or mock his excitement though, he takes it quite hard. Not that he'd let anyone know that.

Doh! Lothario: Sami has a way with women. But their husbands often try and do away with him in response. Many a time has Sami's advances landed him in trouble, and he's not always been able to escape flawlessly. He just can't help himself, and it might well be the death of him one day.

Personality: If nothing else, Sami is laid back. He's an easy-rider who doesn't think or want too much of life, and he's not in a rush to go anywhere or do anything. As long as he has his free time to unwind and nobody is watching over his shoulder, he's happy with being given a task to do by someone with more stripes on his shoulders.

What DOES grind his gears is micro-management and pedantic oversight. However he's competent enough that the BoS usually leave him to it. He's not a die-hard supporter of the faction, it's simply a job for him that provides safety, security and food on the table.

He's a chatty individual, never one to let a room be silent, even if he's the only one in it. This could be annoying to others, but he doesn't really care. It's already been covered, but Sami is a romantic who loves a good flirtatious chase, even if it is one way. He does have a gentlemanly respect for women, but not necessarily for their feelings after the fact.

Short Background: Sami was born into a family that worked on the lower decks of Rivet City. His father was a mechanic, and his father before him, and so on. One of 13 children, he had to learn to share at an early age, pickings were slim and all they really had was each other during childhood.

Unfortunately, the fact there were 13 siblings must have brought about a curse upon the Brown family, as Sami is the only one left of his siblings either through accident, misfortune or stupidity. One by one (and sometimes two by two), he slowly became the last of his brood. This quickly ignited a nilhistic side to Sami, which might explain his laid-back attitude towards life brought about by the realisation of enjoying life while you can. He's taken this hardship fairly well all things considered, but deep down perhaps Sami is quite depressed and pessimistic.

Sami continued well into his adulthood to keep Rivet City running behind the scenes, eventually becoming the senior and morst capable of the mechanics down there, and sometimes worked for the weaponsmith and trader in the markets for extra caps to spend on booze and romantic pursuits. Eventually though, he felt the need to explore the world and see what was out there - there was more to live than the steel walls of a converted aircraft carrier, after all. He left most of everything behind, including his parents, who had long ago turned to alcohol abuse to cope with the untimely loss of their children; Sami had moved out and gotten his own cabin as soon as things started to get bad and pitiful, he rarely visited.

Sami wandered the wastes, making a few caps here and there fixing things up for traders or settlements. He found a few cool things along the way and made and lost brief friends to the bitterness of the Capital Wasteland. One of them, who was a mercenary, had taught him how to shoot far better than his father ever did (before his hands shook too much to aim).

Eventually, and after the life of a wanderer had grown tiresome, Sami happened upon the Citadel and gladly accepted the offer of becoming a Lancer if it meant a stable living and a safe bed to sleep in at night. He displayed his competencies and quickly proved himself, the years of experience working in the engines of Rivet City easily translating to working on Vertibirds. He rapidly found himself as a full-fledged Lancer, but felt no great pride except the luxury of a larger room and a comfier bed. In the 3 years he's been at the Citadel, he has also made a name for himself as a tomcat amongst the women of the BoS, but also as a stand-up guy and a positive character.

Just as things were starting to get repetitive, he received a mission going somewhere doing something, and Sami gladly accepted despite the mystery of it. Why not? What's the worst that could happen?