[OOC] Fallout: Den of Thieves (Full)

[Dragonbud]

I had posted interest in this thread a while back, but never got around to posting again because I got busy. Do you guys have room for one more?

[Zordon]

Finalizing my CS now, btw.

:D

[The Critic]

Now that the internet is back up (again -_-) I'll make the first post. I probably won't do anything fancy, but we can have it where the characters come up and apply for the group. I'll let you guys know once it's up.

EDIT: Yeah @Dragonbud, we've got room. I just saw your post, my bad, I was still on the second page! Just post your CS up whenever you get a chance.

[Zordon]

Posting for approval!!!

Elayne King

Name:
Elayne King

Nickname:
Laney, King

Race:
Caucasian

Age:
20

Physical Description:
Elayne has a somewhat thin face with slightly gaunt cheeks. Her skin appears pale and her complexion fair. She sports mid-back length brunette locks that she tends to keep pulled back either sporting a partial braid or fully braided. Her eyes are a pale green with flecks of orange and brown. Standing at about 5 feet 6 inches tall, Elayne is of average build. Though, sporting only about 147 lbs of weight, she is actually quite lanky and can appear somewhat awkward.

((Please view Armor section for a sample photo of hair style.))
Face Reference

Bio:
A stale wind blew through the expanse of the wastes, a slight bristle of damaged fur filling her ears from the tattered hood that rest on her shoulders. Her hands felt on her waist band for the canteen she carried and she raised it to her lips, taking a long calculated swig of purified water. 'Better than liquor, if ya ask me', she though to herself securing the lid and returning it to her belt. She took another step closer to the board, the kind that thriving towns would post notices of upcoming events on though, this one had seen much better days. In the center lie a small pile of papers, clinging to dear life under the blazing sun with the support or a single thumbtack. She smirked, thinking of how much hell the owner must have gone through to find a usable thumbtack, then immediately thought the owner foolish for trusting a thumbtack to the population and weather of the wastes. Her thoughts drifted to how this mystery person printed on paper to post on the board in the first place. Not just any person had those kind of resources available, after all.

She stepped closer, idly folding back the flap of her right gloves, revealing her slender fingers to the air. Slowly, she skimmed through the notice, thanking her time in the vault for the ability to read at all before reaching for an application. Standing alone in the arid wastes, she finds herself considering joining this group of mercenaries, this nameless group of potential allies. Memories of taking the G.O.A.T. in the vault fill her mind, that feeling of deflation upon hearing that she could either be the next Jukebox Technician or Tattoo Artist, either of which should have been considered a privilege. The tension weeks later when food stores were eliminated and the madness that ensued as slowly, vault dweller turned against vault dweller for food. She had been forced to grow up fast and fend for herself in a vault of developing cannibals. Of course there had been a select few that decided to leave the vault early on, but that decision was not without bloodshed of its own. There were only 12 of them left when she had decided to sneak out in the middle of the night. Who knew that with so many dead, it'd be so much easier to loot their possessions? A few months later, she would find herself on the New Vegas strip, her time as a prostitute blurred and dulled from an addiction to chems and alcohol. Those were the worst two years of her life, most of which she can't even remember.

And yet all things led her to this moment: a year of recovery from her addictions and fending for herself as a makeshift mercenary presented with a gift from whatever f-cked up, all knowing, sadistic being -- in the form of a sheet of paper. Calculatingly, she folded the paper, sliding it into the outside pocket of her jacket. She folded down the flap of her glove once more before pulling her hood up over deep brown locks and heading towards the Swooning Cazador in search of this Jacobson.

Weapon of Choice:
Due to her petite frame, Elayne tends to favor small guns and light weight blunt weapons. She is as agile as she is lithe and has an uncanny way of getting out of close quarters encounters.

She is quite fond of her .44 magnum and any blunt weapon she can find under 5 pounds. Anything more than that, and her girly arms are useless. Out of all the various blunt weapons she has encountered. Elayne favors the baseball bat she carries on her backpack, slid into the two side straps for easy holstering.

Armor:
Elayne sports a worn parka-esque coat, the fur trimming the hood nearly non existent. She carries a light weight leather heat with a small brim on her head, mostly to shield her eyes from the sun. Her pants are loose in the upper area and are tighter around her ankles, granting herself easier movements. She treads on combat boots and carries a large backpack on her back. If you pay enough attention, you'll also notice the pair of dogtags that hang from her neck beneath the coat.

Clothing/Style Reference
Backpack Reference

[The Critic]

Aaaaand... Accepted. I'll add it to the characters tab, and I'm still working in the first post. And if you guys have an idea on what our first 'contract' would be, go ahead and say something! My mind's coming up blank at the moment, unfortunately.

[Dragonbud]

Rocket

Name: Alex aka "Rocket"

Race: Human

Age: Seventeen

Physical Description:

Bio: For as long as Rocket could remember she was fighting with her fists. She was always punching, wether it be fore the best scraps of food or to teach someone a lesion about messing with her. Her father always joked that she even came out of the womb punching at the air. The young and horribly reckless Rocket decided to turn this skill into a livelihood. She left home at fifteen to go and become a 'professional' fighter. It was more like joining an illegal and underground fighting ring with men and women twice her age, but she fit in well. She would get herself tossed in the ring, beat the snot out of whoever was in front of her and then took all the prizes.

But like any young "celebrity" this fame began to go to her head. After loosing a few fights her sponsors threatened to pull out if she didn't toughen up. She found her next mistake in a chem called Hydra. Rocket didn't know what the stuff was made out of, or even what it did specifically but one day it was offered to her. The greasy, and clearly high, fighter promised her that it would make her arms and legs feel even stronger. It would reduce crippling.

And boy it sure did.

Rocket was back to her fist swinging self, always drinking a hydra before entering the ring and slowly, as well as being unaware, her caps began to dwindle. And one day, right before a fight, Rocket discovered she was completely out of hydra. She returned to the fighter who got her hooked, desperate and begging for another dose, only to have him laugh his way to the slot machines. The results of the withdrawal were pretty crippling. She constantly has blown out pupils and sweats as well as shaky hands and a shortness of breath. So for awhile Rocket has been wandering Mexico City, trying to salvage through rubble to find anything that might make her enough caps for some more hydra.

Rocket discovered a flyer, recruiting people for who knows what. Rocket didn't care about what she was being hired for, but caps and food sounded nice. And hey, family was pretty good too.

Weapon of Choice: Rocket is all fists all the time. She has several pairs of unarmed weapons, spiked knuckles and brass knuckles, depending on the occasion. She also has a combat knife on her, but rarely uses it. She also has limited knowledge on guns, but only as far as loading and pulling the trigger.

Armor: Rocket wears Merc Explorers Armor, which she stripped off a rotting corpse. It's good, light, armor that still allows her to move her arms and legs. She also wears a headscarf that covers her head and neck from the sun.

[Zordon]

If you're really stuck, my bio can double as an opening post, to get everyone started towards Jacobson?

[The Critic]

I don't have an issue with the first post, it's just coming up with the first contract/mission we'll have. I can probably think of something, my mind just doesn't want to work today.

Rocket, accepted, but I'd recommend having some sort of weapon besides fists, maybe a combat knife to stay with the up-close theme. Then again, it's possible to survive that way. Just an idea.

[rocketrobie2]

We could be hired to escort a Caravan from point A to point B or we could be hired to take down a group of organized super mutants?

[Lightning Fast]

The join status still says apply. Is there room for one more?

I'll most my sheet here just in case.

Hider

Name: Grenaud Corbin
Race: Caucasian
Age: 26
Physical Description: Corbin looks a little bit like a pre-war military officer, ridiculously enough. He wears a kevlar vest with a black shirt under it, a helmet modified to look like that of a European knight (minis the visor), and has a scabbard with an officer’s sword at his waist. His face is easy on the eyes, with a pencil-thin mustache and perpetually constant confident smirk. His shoulders each have an epaulette made out of an old hair brush and some duct tape, and both of his upper sleeves bear a red maple-leaf insignia. His hair is a light brown and his eyes are deep blue, and he stands at a fairly average 5’9.

Bio: In 2133, the Canadian Liberation Front (CLF) was established with the ultimate goal of ousting the U.S. soldiers who had turned former Canadian cities into Enclave-aligned military colonies. They succeeded in liberating Montreal, but efforts to take back the largest surviving bastion of Canadian culture, Ronto, failed miserably. Hundreds of years after their first attack on Ronto, Corbin led another ill-fated excursion against the Enclave’s superior technology and numbers, his Canadiens soundly defeated, and he himself captured. He and other Canadian militants were transported southward to prevent further attempts at liberation. He and other hostages escaped with the help of some well-placed explosives, but during his time in prison, he developed a deep resentment towards the Enclave. He is ecstatic to see that their influence has began to wane drastically even in the former Commonwealth of the United States.

Corbin is an arrogant man with a penchant for drama, delusioned with the idea of reconquering the Great White North despite the fact that he’s currently in the southern deserts. Still, he is a capable commander, demolitionist, and mechanic, and has a way of rousing people to his cause using impassioned speeches. In summation, Grenaud is charismatic, eccentric, and patriotic without end. He hopes to strike it rich in Sierra Madre, and use these caps to pay an army of mercenaries to help him take Ronto and establish it as the capital of a New Canadian Confederation. Obviously, this is almost impossible from logistical and financial perspectives, but don’t tell him that.

Weapon of Choice: Grenaud loves spectacle and showmanship, and so has a deep affinity towards explosives of all kinds. His preferred weapon is a grenade launcher, and he is experienced with similarly large weapons. He also carries an assault rifle on his back similar to the ones that NCR rangers use, but with what looks like a bayonet hastily constructed from a combat knife mounted on the front.

In close combat, should his bayonet prove too unwieldy, Grenaud carries an officer’s sword to dispatch his opponents, and though its longer reach than a knife is advantageous, he is only moderately skilled in using it.

Armor: Not one for subtlety, Grenaud Corbin wears a kevlar vest and metal helmet modified slightly to resemble that of a European knight, minus the visor. His ridiculous get-up is completed by a piece of plywood strapped to his arm and reinforced it with bolted-on steel plates like some sort of shield. He wears it in a way that does not interfere with his aim... too much.

[Dragonbud]

Okay, I gave my girl a knife

[The Critic]

Lightning, accepted. I'll hopefully get the first post up in a bit, sorry for what probably seems like the GM stalling. I'm really not, I swear.

EDIT: Since I never actually said it, you're accepted @Dragonbud. Sorry for not saying so earlier!

[Saarebas]

Just going to put this here...

[rocketrobie2]

Just going to put this here...

@Saarebas

That was amazing.
You just made my day good sir.

[Dragonbud]

Just going to put this here...

@Saarebas

this is wicked catchy

[Saarebas]

*bows* Just a small piece of web gold I stumbled upon during my wandering of the Wastelands of the internet

[rocketrobie2]

The guy who made that made this too
http://youtu.be/Doo-N_xBIY0

[The Critic]

Okay everyone, my internet should be back up at home today, it's been out for sooooo long. I'll put the first post up as soon as I get home, it'll be around two hours. I'm sorry for the delay, the internet should be solid for a while now.

[Saarebas]

@The Critic That is great to hear! I'm excited for this RP :) Oh also do you mind if I change my character's name?

P.S. Another little piece of internet gold.

[The Critic]

Sure, that's fine, you can post it here or edit it on your cs if you want, I'll change it on the characters tab whenever you change your name!

P.S. Still working on first post, gonna try to set a mood and what not, yay first post.