Name:
Dorjan (Dorian)
Age:
31
Gender:
Male
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Appearance:
Mutation(s):
Dorjan's parent's careful nature and weariness of radioactivity has kept him mutation free, that is at least as far as he is aware.
Weapon(s):
Dorjan carries a Glock 17 (a gun he found after he was double-crossed and left for dead by a bunch of bandits), since finding the gun, Dorjan has only found one round of ammunition. Having had no dire need for it so far, he is keeping it for himself and has engraved "R.I.P" into the case of the bullet. He also has a simple hatchet he found at an abandoned fire station, soon after he was left for dead. It's nothing special and the head of the ax is long since dulled. However, it still has its uses.
Gear:
Dorjan was double-crossed by a bunch of bandits and left for dead. In the short time since then he has found only a few items of any use.
-Jacket and pants as seen in the photo were scavenged off a dead body he found in a ditch.
-Gas mask he picked up at a close-by fire station, also where he found his hatchet.
-Durable snow boots, this was one of the only items he was left with by those who double-crossed him.
-Wool socks (2 pairs)
-Dried food for rations
-Iodine tablets (4)
-Matches
-Empty water canteen
-Compass
-Bootlaces
-30L military issue backpack
Faction: (Leave blank for now)
Currency:
$15
Short History:
Dorjan was born into the New World, shortly after the bombs had dropped. His parents had been for lack of a better description, preparing for Doomsday and were more than cautious of their new environment once the bombs dropped. For the first eighteen years of his life Dorjan knew an underground bomb shelter, built by his father as his entire World. Resenting his parents for never allowing him to leave the shelter, he took it upon himself at the age of eighteen to do so. With his Father's blessing (considering Dorjan was of age), he left the East Coast, exploring the Wasteland on his way to the Wasted West.
Somewhere between the two sides of a now decimated country, Dorjan ran into a group of bandits. His naivety towards their intent and his belief in the good nature of all people led the leader of the party to take in Dorjan rather than pillage him. They offered to take him, with them to the Wasted West, get him set up with durable weapons and gear and take him in as one of their own. All was well and good. By Dorjan's twentieth birthday he had become a favorite of the leader of the particular groups of bandits and had joined in a number of raids on other bandit camps and the occasional camp or settlement of ordinary wastelanders. It had become second nature to him, the raiding and pillaging and killing, and while Dorjan had never himself killed a living person or creature, there was something about being in a raiding party that made him feel alive. More alive than he had ever felt locked away underground with his two very over protective parents.
It was at the age of twenty-three that Dorjan killed his first human being. A man, around fifty, who was only trying to protect what was his in this world. Upon a raid of a now non-existent settlement (as it was raised to the ground by Dorjan's crew), the man came at Dorjan with a crowbar as he was raiding the building. It was almost as if pure animalistic instinct drove Dorjan to pull the trigger of the Ak-47 rifle that he held pressed into his shoulder like a real soldier. The blood splatter in the small corridor went all over the walls and all over Dorjan, he can remember to this day the distinct smell of blood, a smell a lot like copper or iron that filled his nostrils. Praised by his comrades, it was this day that Dorjan got over the idea of death, and saw that killing was an act celebrated, not condemned (at least by the people he was among).
Years passed and Dorjan progressed through "ranks" at an exceptional rate, becoming brothers to many of the bandits in the gang. He saw faces come and go, but for the best part of eight years since his first kill, Dorjan remained. All until that faithful day. A particular bandit by the name of Munch had Dorjan in his bad books. It was something to do over a game of five-finger fillet and Munch was under the impression that Dorjan had cheated him out of money. One day on a raid, Munch and five of his most loyal friends, turned on Dorjan, they took his weapon from him and beat him black and blue, stripping him naked all but for his boots and underwear and leaving him for dead. Munch left the final mark by putting a bullet into Dorjan's shoulder.
Hours passed before Dorjan could bring himself to. Having never known betrayal or distrust, one could only imagine the feelings racing through his brain. It was weeks of struggle and survival after this event which brought Dorjan to the outskirts of Aurora's end, where the next chapter in his tale will begin...
EDIT: Just so we're all clear the town of Aurora's End is where the role-play will begin!
Dorjan (Dorian)
Age:
31
Gender:
Male
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Appearance:
Mutation(s):
Dorjan's parent's careful nature and weariness of radioactivity has kept him mutation free, that is at least as far as he is aware.
Weapon(s):
Dorjan carries a Glock 17 (a gun he found after he was double-crossed and left for dead by a bunch of bandits), since finding the gun, Dorjan has only found one round of ammunition. Having had no dire need for it so far, he is keeping it for himself and has engraved "R.I.P" into the case of the bullet. He also has a simple hatchet he found at an abandoned fire station, soon after he was left for dead. It's nothing special and the head of the ax is long since dulled. However, it still has its uses.
Gear:
Dorjan was double-crossed by a bunch of bandits and left for dead. In the short time since then he has found only a few items of any use.
-Jacket and pants as seen in the photo were scavenged off a dead body he found in a ditch.
-Gas mask he picked up at a close-by fire station, also where he found his hatchet.
-Durable snow boots, this was one of the only items he was left with by those who double-crossed him.
-Wool socks (2 pairs)
-Dried food for rations
-Iodine tablets (4)
-Matches
-Empty water canteen
-Compass
-Bootlaces
-30L military issue backpack
Faction: (Leave blank for now)
Currency:
$15
Short History:
Dorjan was born into the New World, shortly after the bombs had dropped. His parents had been for lack of a better description, preparing for Doomsday and were more than cautious of their new environment once the bombs dropped. For the first eighteen years of his life Dorjan knew an underground bomb shelter, built by his father as his entire World. Resenting his parents for never allowing him to leave the shelter, he took it upon himself at the age of eighteen to do so. With his Father's blessing (considering Dorjan was of age), he left the East Coast, exploring the Wasteland on his way to the Wasted West.
Somewhere between the two sides of a now decimated country, Dorjan ran into a group of bandits. His naivety towards their intent and his belief in the good nature of all people led the leader of the party to take in Dorjan rather than pillage him. They offered to take him, with them to the Wasted West, get him set up with durable weapons and gear and take him in as one of their own. All was well and good. By Dorjan's twentieth birthday he had become a favorite of the leader of the particular groups of bandits and had joined in a number of raids on other bandit camps and the occasional camp or settlement of ordinary wastelanders. It had become second nature to him, the raiding and pillaging and killing, and while Dorjan had never himself killed a living person or creature, there was something about being in a raiding party that made him feel alive. More alive than he had ever felt locked away underground with his two very over protective parents.
It was at the age of twenty-three that Dorjan killed his first human being. A man, around fifty, who was only trying to protect what was his in this world. Upon a raid of a now non-existent settlement (as it was raised to the ground by Dorjan's crew), the man came at Dorjan with a crowbar as he was raiding the building. It was almost as if pure animalistic instinct drove Dorjan to pull the trigger of the Ak-47 rifle that he held pressed into his shoulder like a real soldier. The blood splatter in the small corridor went all over the walls and all over Dorjan, he can remember to this day the distinct smell of blood, a smell a lot like copper or iron that filled his nostrils. Praised by his comrades, it was this day that Dorjan got over the idea of death, and saw that killing was an act celebrated, not condemned (at least by the people he was among).
Years passed and Dorjan progressed through "ranks" at an exceptional rate, becoming brothers to many of the bandits in the gang. He saw faces come and go, but for the best part of eight years since his first kill, Dorjan remained. All until that faithful day. A particular bandit by the name of Munch had Dorjan in his bad books. It was something to do over a game of five-finger fillet and Munch was under the impression that Dorjan had cheated him out of money. One day on a raid, Munch and five of his most loyal friends, turned on Dorjan, they took his weapon from him and beat him black and blue, stripping him naked all but for his boots and underwear and leaving him for dead. Munch left the final mark by putting a bullet into Dorjan's shoulder.
Hours passed before Dorjan could bring himself to. Having never known betrayal or distrust, one could only imagine the feelings racing through his brain. It was weeks of struggle and survival after this event which brought Dorjan to the outskirts of Aurora's end, where the next chapter in his tale will begin...
EDIT: Just so we're all clear the town of Aurora's End is where the role-play will begin!
