Blubaron45

The Dust: Begin Again

When someone asks me what my first post is going to be about

Seriously though, I don't know what to write that's even close to being interesting.

Defiance: Calexico

Posted.

Oh, and don't don't worry about your first post, I don't think mine isn't really all that good either. I feel brain dead right now since I've had a little bit to drink. Oh well, on with the story! Can't wait to see what is going to happen next.

Defiance: Calexico

A swollen red sun emerged from the propitious horizon of shoreline to the east as Uthik Beskar awoke to the smell of the fresh, blue ocean and the vibrant sounds of automobiles, people, and the machinery which drew nearer. The waves of the Western Shore seemed to be getting larger by the sounds of it and Utha could only guess that they've arrived near the port-city of Calexico as the mangy, pink-meated Captain, who had his stained yellow beard from the surplus of rations he so easily took advantage of, said they would. For the past few days, Utha had been patiently waiting for the moment to reach the promising city to the south of San Francisco and with every day that past, so too did his disdain for the crowded sea life become more and more predominant.

The city comprised itself with mainly human inhabitants and the rest were sufficienty Votans migrants who gathered into the city streets from the west right after the occupation of the Human Earth by the Votans in 2013. The island was what remained of large portions of what was once Southern California and small fragments of cities that once lay there before the Terraformation. Now, the Island where Calexico was located on was the largest island among several others, surrounded by the AngelArc, a series of islands which where the remnants of larger cities such as Los Angeles and San Diego are located on. A city of ambitious, soon-to-be redeemers, migrants, and opportunists dwell.

As the boat docked harbor, Utha thought it was finally ready for himself to unveil his pale light-blue eyes and soon took a the moment to breathe in the heavy ocean air while he gathered his belongings around the soft bunk bed he rested on. The room was small, empty, and rusted in its years of service but it eased Utha's mind from the noisy, simple minded humans he had such a disdain for. The room he was in had no assigned roommate like the others, only himself to keep company for the night which was less of a burden as he kept a set of belongings at bottom bunk. His belongings were neatly organized for this occasion, a bag filled with clothes at the bottom bunk, his holster belt which was neatly hung next to his dusty brown leather coat, and his other belongings which were shoved into a thick, black-polyester gym bag.

In front of his holster belt, just hanging on the same wall mount hanger, was a small gold locket necklace which was more precious to the young Castithan, more than any treasure he could ever come by. It was a locket which contained the memory of his three older brothers, his father, and himself, all standing proudly together as a once proud family in a small portrait picture which was placed inside the small pendant he so careful kept with him. It was a long lost memory that had one man's face scratched away from a sharp dagger Utha used to maliciously remove a terrible moment in his life but still burned in his head as bright as day and the things he did to the young Gunslinger. It was the face of his father. An inevitable repercussion of temerity, and no matter how hard men try to escape the torments of a mournful past, the past always has a way of creeping up on you and outweighing the good and better memories of tender nostalgia. He had not the courage to think of it now or even mourn it, only drown to himself in the heavy liquor which would undoubtedly alleviate himself. For a while at least. Utha couldn't so much as even open the locket, only on times were he felt the most strong which were hard moments to come by. Today just happened to be another bad day.

Utha wrapped the necklace around his slender neck and darted out the door after tightly strapping his items together. After he gathered his belongings, the ferryman, who was in charge of collecting the sum of money for the boat-ride, was the first to amiably greet the white-skinned Castithan who in exchange, gave a solemn goodbye before taking his first step into the wooden harbor. His former life was now behind him, the promises of redemption and a chance last-resort was ahead of him, ready to pursue a career that wasn't too short, too miserably dull, or even too excessively violent as most he signed up for jobs were.

"Well, friend. What are you going to do here now, Utha?" The ferryman promptly asked, just as soon as the Gunslinger was about to leave into the city ahead of him, well out of his hearing range.

"It's just past dawn and I haven't anything to drink for the past few days. What do you think?" Utha then pulled the small leather wallet from his back-pocket and began flinging and catching it in the air. "I'm gonna get smashed."

The Dust: Begin Again

@RedDusk Same, I just got out of summer school and now I have almost nothing to do with most of my days.

Seeds Of Ascension - A Mech Roleplay

Interested and subbed. I'll come up with an idea for a Char soon.

The Dust: Begin Again

Basics

Name: Dustin Supertramp
Age: Does not know, but he thinks he's between 24 to 25.
Appeared Age: Early 30's, mainly because of the grime/complexion on his face.
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 166lb (75.2963 kg)
Eye Color: Indigo, they were once blue before the sickness.
Hair Color: Dusty brown
Physical Disabilities:

• His left hand is slightly deformed from the minor leprosy he contracted while out on a mission where he accidentally burned his hand which inevitably led to an infection. The hand is also missing the distal phalanx of his (or the tip of his) pinky finger (which was chopped off because of the infection) and often hurts on occasion although not excruciatingly enough to make him yelp in pain.
• At one time in his career, Dustin was shot in the back, just barely missing his kidney. He was healed but not properly which led to slight discomfort if he puts too much pressure on the wound and prefers to sleep on his stomach because of it.

Physical Identifiers:

• A light scar trails his face from his lower forehead to his lower check, nearing his lower jaw.
• Without his gloves, his hands are exposed, showing the subtle forms of leprosy as White Lepers seem to leave entrails of his left hand. They spot him with dark brown pigments across his forearm and hand which also leave his varicose veins almost as black as night that pop from his damaged skin.
• Thick dreadlocks that tame his dusty brown hair make him quite distinguishable from most people although he's probably not the only person who has this hairstyle.

Appearance:
Dustin is tall and somewhat husky, being packed with large muscles that lay underneath his dirty clothing. His head is topped with messy, curly brown hair which is tightly rounded up into thick dreadlocks that holds his hair together in a way that does not conflict with his occupations as a hired gun. These dreadlocks extend from his head all the way down to his upper back and are held together by silk threads which woven by his adopted mother. It was a look which complimented him since being a small toddler, they symbolized everything he ever was throughout his short childhood and rarely cuts his hair unless it becomes "too thick" or "too long."

The hitman is comprised with broad facial features along with a large hooked nose that hangs from between his light indigo eyes. Dustin has shallow high cheekbones and a mouth which frowns most of the time along with a jaw which sticks out subtly. Overall, Dustin is considered a somewhat handsome man who would almost undoubtedly look far better if he had ever been accustomed to bathing. He also has very long limbs that extend pretty far. However, his left hand still remains deformed from the White Lepers that plague his hand from minor leprosy.

He is also fashioned with two jackets, two shirts and a pair of dusty brown pants. One of his jackets, an old army combat uniform he wears on top of his other clothing, or a brown leather jacket that he wears on occasion (usually in order to blend in with the sand). He owns a black shirt and one old cotton shirt that once belonged to the army combat uniform he scavenged, or what was left of it anyway. For his footwear, Dustin wears a pair of thick boots that are made of a heat resistant material to prevent his feet from getting blisters (these were also stolen from an old army uniform).

Background

Residence: Dustin owns a very small shack made of scavenged metals which is safely hidden somewhere near Isolone but rarely stays the night there. He is a mainly a traveler.
Profession: Hired gun, a mercenary who takes the job of whoever hires him for his "slightly above average" services apart from being a full time scavenger and freelance.
Aligned Faction: Neutral, tries not to be noticed.
Relatives: None (at least not any he knows that are blood-related to him), orphaned at age 4, the only family Dustin ever knew were the scavengers who raised him until he was 17 before living on his own.

• Edd Campbell "Supertramp" - Adopted father - Status: Alive
• Martha Campbell "Supertramp" - Adopted mother - Status: Alive
• Dave Campbell "Supertramp" - Step brother - Status: Alive
• Tommy Anderson "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive
• Alexis Jimenez "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive
• Joe Li "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive
• Damon Henderson "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive

Backstory

Dustin is known by his peers as a practical man with almost very impractical necessities or methods in which he uses to drown his past with whatever liquor he could get his hands on despite being an effective killer. Born into an obscure village to which he does not know the name of, Dustin was later adopted by a group of scavengers who eventually took him in after he was orphaned. The settlement Dustin was born into was comprised of only twenty or so people before he found himself an orphan at infancy when members of the marauding Forsaken order raided his village and killed off most the inhabitants, leaving the infant to die, only to be later eaten off by vultures. Fortune, however, had soon somehow turned in his favor, just barely, as a group of local scavengers and travelers came into the settlements and later took him in as one of their own. More specifically, the young Dustin was taken as the adopted son of Dave Campbell Supertramp, a reformed member who once belonged to the Forsaken Order. Dave later left his life there to integrate in the small semi-nomadic, scavenger group known as the "Supertramps."

While growing up in the hands of scavengers, Dustin rapidly began to learn the ways of scrapping together items in order to put them to practical use for survival instances or to sell. It was in those early moments of childhood where Dustin could easily ensemble items and have them be put to use or experiment with the preworld technology he scavenged. His education would be at the hands of the only few scavengers he considered as his family who themselves only barely knew how to read. They were limited and only possessed the knowledge of counting and basic math, but Dustin made the best of it, grabbing all knowledge he could require in the short time given to him and learn from the old books he found in the ruins of great libraries or schools. As he grew older into his teens, the family of scrappers thought it was finally time to settle back into the metropolis where they would do business which inevitably failed over time, but made enough income to survive in a medium sized apartment with their jobs.

The family would soon abstain from the metropolis life and would later spend most of their time in smaller cities in order to avoid competition from other businesses. It was in that small, bleak moment of despair later in his life, that Dustin began to become very sharp-tongued and a good businessman, able to persuade others into buying something or swindle them for their money. This was all due to efforts of wanting to help his family survive with his adopted brother who he became fond of. His childhood, until the age of 14, mainly consisted of days spent on the road with his family where he learned to fend himself verbally from those who would harm his family and if words did not work, his skill investing in using a gun would certainly be of use. Dustin would later kill his first man at the age of 14 and swore never to touch a gun again until his father gave him a word of advice on travelling into the known world and the many dangers that came with it.

"Live is rough but that doesn't give you the right to be... Or even completely withdraw from defending yourself against people who are trying to hurt you and those you care about." his father told him and soon, the reformed bandit would later convince the young boy to take arms again. It was at that age when he began to practice gun-slinging with his adopted brother and father, who was trained considerably train in the subject due to once being a member of the Forsaken Order and taught both of them well. It was thought that both sons were equally as good as one another but Dustin's brother, Dave, was far superior shot in long ranged combat where Dustin had developed a skill in shorter ranged combat with mainly pistol and other hand weapons. Together, they would prove to be an effective team of wanderers who could easily defend themselves against any threat bestowed on the family.

However, Dustin later left the "Supertramp" family soon after at the age of 17 in order to pursue a life of adventuring around the known world solo. If anyone were to ask him why he left, he probably would never have an answer other than "I want to see what I'm capable of" but there was something much more meaningful at hand. A gut feeling which urged a desire to venture on his own into the world by himself which were almost undoubtedly sparked by the scrapped books he found and read as a child. With the open world ahead of him and home left behind, Dustin would be able to pursue an adventure on his own to "prove himself."

With no sense of true direction, Dustin initially thought of doing an earnest, hardworking job to get a depiction of what city life was like. The life of working as a construction worker near the docks would last Dustin for a few years where he managed to somehow enjoy city life, and the occasional night life that came with it. A night at the club, plus the occasional one night stands with women brought a short sense of the feeling of being young and reckless until he laid eyes on one women he could not let go of and became attached with at age 19. They were nights spent with hard earned money on booze, gambling, and whoring - all of which would take the majority of most of the young man's weekend. Falling in and out of relationships were quite frequent with Dustin but he managed to find one woman who managed to stay with him, for a while at least, until his "maiden" as he called her, cheated on him with another man. When finding out, Dustin found himself in a fist fight that he won almost effortlessly but nearly left the man dead and left his girlfriend all together.

Finding the city life unsatisfying after a while and with a heartbreak of an unloyal woman still aching him, Dustin had plans of leaving the city life to pursue the life of a scavenger although he had no idea where to start or who would hire him. This was until he happened to fall on a small group of scavengers who hired him for his services. Dustin asserted that he was an able body guard, capable of protecting almost anyone from bandits, doing dirty work and assuring that both needs were satisfied. In the eyes of most men, self-dubbed badasses were could most certainly talk the talk but would rarely apply their so called "skills" in most situations. Dustin, whoever, made an exception, when a band of five Forsaken Order raiders arrived at the Scavenger Caravan with malicious intend of hoarding the supplies by force but was mainly stopped in their tracks by Dustin who had proven himself a decent guard. Guardian of scavengers became guardian of caravans, guardian of caravans became guardian of important people, guardian of important people meant a hired gun.

Ironically, by a twist of fate, Dustin would later became the same criminal he did not want to become and for a while in the years which pursued afterwards, the young man became a notable gunslinger and hitman. One who was capable of truly doing what he claimed he was capable of doing - which brought the attention of higher clansmen or factions who would most undoubtedly require his services. Despite being offered a number of jobs which offered him opportunities of fast riches for his services, Dustin would simply inclined those promises of a better life in exchange fro their loyalty and claimed that he was a "low key guy" and wanted to remain a simple gunman, preforming simple jobs from simpletons. Attracting too much attention would definitely put his life at an even more risk with people who would most certainly "meet his level of expertise" and although the money maybe worth it, Dustin thought it would be best to abstain from such opportunities, for now anyways.

One day, while doing a normal raid, the hitman later found himself separated from his group and was alone in a sticky situation with enemies all around him. It was an ambush waiting for them as the entire team was scattered in the camp. The gunslinger had traveled far into the enemy's territory by sheer coincidence and missed most of the cross fire. While trying to make the sounds of his own men from the heavy gunfire with scattered across the entire small battlefield, Dustin would have to shoot his way out. Somewhere in the living quarters, Dustin tried to search for anything that would be useful in blowing his way out of the camp when he stumbled across three men who he immediately killed but not after they would get a shot at him. One of the men held a flamethrower, where he came from, Dustin did not know but the flames managed to burn deep into his left arm before the gunslinger put a bullet through his head, deep into the Pyromancer's gas mask. The possession they were protecting was a small mineral of some sort, which glowed a bright green, even in the daylight. Dustin kept it concealed in his jacket while he managed to escape the premises with his life. The raid was unsuccessful and Dustin managed to some out of their although not completely in one piece as his hand was severely burned from the flamethrower.

A few days of walking (and managing to lose the mineral he found somewhere in the vast desert), the gunslinger managed to find himself in a settlement where they treated his wounds before the infections crawled deep into his wounds. The aftermath was a minor form of leprosy which dug its roots into his skin and caused a excruciatingly burning feeling into his hand. While walking through the hot desert, Dustin was founded by a group of rangers from a local settlement to the North where he was being treated with a handful of pain medication and antibiotics to help rid of the infection. The wounds managed to heal over time although his left pinky just above the middle phalanx was severed due to being so infected and the wounds left dark varicose veins across his lower left arm. His hand now, can still clinch into a fist but not function as properly as it once did before his injuries as he cannot seem to use it to hold a gun properly until he contracted an illness weeks later.

It was weeks after the battle that Dustin began to become sick with a small, minor cold which lasted only a few days but left the young gunslinger tired and wry. The young man would later fall asleep in his small shack he called a home, It was a sleep of heavy and lucid dreaming and when he awoke from his slumber, he realized he had been asleep for several days. However, the moment he woke from his heavy semi-coma, he began to take notice he felt stronger and more keen than ever as his precision with a pistol increased but still left his left hand plagued with the aftermaths of disease but could still hold a pistol with it, somewhat.

The events which unfolded after that raid was nothing more than a story to be told of surviving in the criminal world as Dustin soon turn back to the only job he was ever good at doing. Fate, however, had something in store from him as the young gunslinger seemed to have built another reputation for himself. He began to rise again from the ashes, as a newer, more notorious hitman as his disabilities soon led to his strength in killing albeit restraining himself from ever being famous or being hired by far wealthier employees. To this day, Dustin still tries to live a simple life, free from any sense of ownership and often travels around the known world, often being noted by the people who employ him for his services or bare witness to it.

Gear

Weapons:

• .32 Hunting rifle: A rifle which he uses at times for long range, it is is modded which a longer barrel in order to reach further distances and a scope in order to strike Dustin's targets with immense precision. The large rifle, however, is something that Dustin uses as last resort or as a weapon to kill his enemies long distance.
• Two 9mm handguns, one silver, one black: Two pistols he uses frequently with both hands although he's far better with his right than he is with his left and often has his silver one in his right hand and the black in the other.
• One small .22 handgun: An emergency weapon which is safely hidden in Dustin's right leg, underneath his sock.
• Rusty Katana: A blade of the old world which he rarely uses other than wears it to look cool. He's killed two men before with the ancient sword but doesn't find a practicality in using it. The sword was given to him by his adopted parents when he when travelling alone into the world by himself at age 15.
• 2 Hidden Knifes: Dustin has several different knifes somewhere tight in his clothing that are hidden which he uses for emergency purposes like short-distance fighting.
• 5 Throwing Knifes: When going out on a mission which requires both precision and silence, Dustin uses small knives he uses to throw at his enemies with lethal intention.
• Swiss Army Knife: Not really a weapon he uses, more for practical reasons, if he ever uses it at all.

Armor: On top of Dustin's v-neck undershirt, there lies a white, .2 inch Level II bullet-resistant vest that mainly covers his stomach and chest from bullets. He has found it to be quite useful in most situations but have felt him with swollen bruises and broken bones because of it (but it's better than being shot).
Ammunition:

• Dirty Rounds: Thirten .32 rounds, forty 9mm rounds, eleven .22 rounds.
• High Grade Rounds: Ten .32 rounds, nineteen 9mm rounds, seven .22 rounds.

Old, Green Everest Hiking Backpack:

• Clothes he doesn't wear
• 3 Cans of beans
• Rolled up Sleeping Bag tied to the bottom of his backpack
• A box of matches
• Swiss Army Knife
• Extra gloves
• Canteen and five bottles of water
• Binoculars
• Lockpick set
• Rope (20 feet)
• Dusty map

Some facts:

• Dustin is secretly an obsessive-compulsive and only walks in a number of steps which are divisible by three. This idiosyncrasy has been embedding into his life since the age of 6 when he started to develop a small passion for numbers and maths from the books he read
• Dustin is an excessively quick learner and it does not take him very long to master something. He can read very well, play the guitar (almost virtuosically when he played it at the age of 7), and has a hobby of calculating numbers in his head.
• The hitman also wears a pair of sunglasses to protect himself from his light sensitivity issues.

Immortalis Information

Manifested Phenomena: Precision
Unique Abilities:

• Lethal Precision: With a handgun, Dustin finds himself unable to tremble when he holds a pistol in his right hand apart from having an amazing precision when firing it. He can also enter a phase which he describes as "time slowing down" where he can make every shot count in the small time frame given to him and has a remarkably fine eyesight because of it apart from having slight light sensitivity issues on occasion. Although he has the ability to fire accurately and slow time down, it doesn't make his movement speed any faster.
• Keen Analyzer: Apart from his "remarkably fine eyesight," Dustin is gifted with an ability to read people very well and has little to no trouble figuring out their pasts based on either attire, variations in facial expressions in certain situations, the way they talk etc. He is not entirely sure if it is something he was born with, or developed over time but these abilities were most definitely enhanced after contrasting the Immortalis sometime later in life.

Strengths:

• Dustin can run pretty far without getting winded too easily and endure hard weather change. He does not know where this comes from, but it is believed that it was developed in his days spent running in his childhood.
• Because of his temper and his experience in survival situations, Dustin has developed a sharp-tongue which he uses to defend himself from those to offend him. If his words fail to protect him, his skills with a handgun apply from there on.

Weaknesses:

• If only Dustin had both hands which properly functioned, he would most likely become one of the best gunslingers in the entire land but it seemed like fate had others things in mind instead of having him becoming a world-class gunslinger, had it not been for his left hand being plagued with a minor form of leprosy.
• Dustin has often a hard time letting go of things, the type of anger he would be displayed would be an internal one as he often holds grudges against people and will seek out to make amends for any harm which has been done to him.

The Dust: Begin Again

Here's mine.

Edit: meant to post on Char after it was approved.

My Character

Basics

Name: Dustin Supertramp
Age: Does not know, but he thinks he's between 24 to 25.
Appeared Age: Early 30's, mainly because of the grime/complexion on his face.
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 166lb (75.2963 kg)
Eye Color: Indigo, they were once blue before the sickness.
Hair Color: Dusty brown
Physical Disabilities:

• His left hand is slightly deformed from the minor leprosy he contracted while out on a mission where he accidentally burned his hand which inevitably led to an infection. The hand is also missing the distal phalanx of his (or the tip of his) pinky finger (which was chopped off because of the infection) and often hurts on occasion although not excruciatingly enough to make him yelp in pain.
• At one time in his career, Dustin was shot in the back, just barely missing his kidney. He was healed but not properly which led to slight discomfort if he puts too much pressure on the wound and prefers to sleep on his stomach because of it.

Physical Identifiers:

• A light scar trails his face from his lower forehead to his lower check, nearing his lower jaw.
• Without his gloves, his hands are exposed, showing the subtle forms of leprosy as White Lepers seem to leave entrails of his left hand. They spot him with dark brown pigments across his forearm and hand which also leave his varicose veins almost as black as night that pop from his damaged skin.
• Thick dreadlocks that tame his dusty brown hair make him quite distinguishable from most people although he's probably not the only person who has this hairstyle.

Appearance:
Dustin is tall and somewhat husky, being packed with large muscles that lay underneath his dirty clothing. His head is topped with messy, curly brown hair which is tightly rounded up into thick dreadlocks that holds his hair together in a way that does not conflict with his occupations as a hired gun. These dreadlocks extend from his head all the way down to his upper back and are held together by silk threads which woven by his adopted mother. It was a look which complimented him since being a small toddler, they symbolized everything he ever was throughout his short childhood and rarely cuts his hair unless it becomes "too thick" or "too long."

The hitman is comprised with broad facial features along with a large hooked nose that hangs from between his light indigo eyes. Dustin has shallow high cheekbones and a mouth which frowns most of the time along with a jaw which sticks out subtly. Overall, Dustin is considered a somewhat handsome man who would almost undoubtedly look far better if he had ever been accustomed to bathing. He also has very long limbs that extend pretty far. However, his left hand still remains deformed from the White Lepers that plague his hand from minor leprosy.

He is also fashioned with two jackets, two shirts and a pair of dusty brown pants. One of his jackets, an old army combat uniform he wears on top of his other clothing, or a brown leather jacket that he wears on occasion (usually in order to blend in with the sand). He owns a black shirt and one old cotton shirt that once belonged to the army combat uniform he scavenged, or what was left of it anyway. For his footwear, Dustin wears a pair of thick boots that are made of a heat resistant material to prevent his feet from getting blisters (these were also stolen from an old army uniform).

Background

Residence: Dustin owns a very small shack made of scavenged metals which is safely hidden somewhere near Isolone but rarely stays the night there. He is a mainly a traveler.
Profession: Hired gun, a mercenary who takes the job of whoever hires him for his "slightly above average" services apart from being a full time scavenger and freelance.
Aligned Faction: Neutral, tries not to be noticed.
Relatives: None (at least not any he knows that are blood-related to him), orphaned at age 4, the only family Dustin ever knew were the scavengers who raised him until he was 17 before living on his own.

• Edd Campbell "Supertramp" - Adopted father - Status: Alive
• Martha Campbell "Supertramp" - Adopted mother - Status: Alive
• Dave Campbell "Supertramp" - Step brother - Status: Alive
• Tommy Anderson "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive
• Alexis Jimenez "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive
• Joe Li "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive
• Damon Henderson "Supertramp" - Childhood friend - Status: Alive

Backstory

Dustin is known by his peers as a practical man with almost very impractical necessities or methods in which he uses to drown his past with whatever liquor he could get his hands on despite being an effective killer. Born into an obscure village to which he does not know the name of, Dustin was later adopted by a group of scavengers who eventually took him in after he was orphaned. The settlement Dustin was born into was comprised of only twenty or so people before he found himself an orphan at infancy when members of the marauding Forsaken order raided his village and killed off most the inhabitants, leaving the infant to die, only to be later eaten off by vultures. Fortune, however, had soon somehow turned in his favor, just barely, as a group of local scavengers and travelers came into the settlements and later took him in as one of their own. More specifically, the young Dustin was taken as the adopted son of Dave Campbell Supertramp, a reformed member who once belonged to the Forsaken Order. Dave later left his life there to integrate in the small semi-nomadic, scavenger group known as the "Supertramps."

While growing up in the hands of scavengers, Dustin rapidly began to learn the ways of scrapping together items in order to put them to practical use for survival instances or to sell. It was in those early moments of childhood where Dustin could easily ensemble items and have them be put to use or experiment with the preworld technology he scavenged. His education would be at the hands of the only few scavengers he considered as his family who themselves only barely knew how to read. They were limited and only possessed the knowledge of counting and basic math, but Dustin made the best of it, grabbing all knowledge he could require in the short time given to him and learn from the old books he found in the ruins of great libraries or schools. As he grew older into his teens, the family of scrappers thought it was finally time to settle back into the metropolis where they would do business which inevitably failed over time, but made enough income to survive in a medium sized apartment with their jobs.

The family would soon abstain from the metropolis life and would later spend most of their time in smaller cities in order to avoid competition from other businesses. It was in that small, bleak moment of despair later in his life, that Dustin began to become very sharp-tongued and a good businessman, able to persuade others into buying something or swindle them for their money. This was all due to efforts of wanting to help his family survive with his adopted brother who he became fond of. His childhood, until the age of 14, mainly consisted of days spent on the road with his family where he learned to fend himself verbally from those who would harm his family and if words did not work, his skill investing in using a gun would certainly be of use. Dustin would later kill his first man at the age of 14 and swore never to touch a gun again until his father gave him a word of advice on travelling into the known world and the many dangers that came with it.

"Live is rough but that doesn't give you the right to be... Or even completely withdraw from defending yourself against people who are trying to hurt you and those you care about." his father told him and soon, the reformed bandit would later convince the young boy to take arms again. It was at that age when he began to practice gun-slinging with his adopted brother and father, who was trained considerably train in the subject due to once being a member of the Forsaken Order and taught both of them well. It was thought that both sons were equally as good as one another but Dustin's brother, Dave, was far superior shot in long ranged combat where Dustin had developed a skill in shorter ranged combat with mainly pistol and other hand weapons. Together, they would prove to be an effective team of wanderers who could easily defend themselves against any threat bestowed on the family.

However, Dustin later left the "Supertramp" family soon after at the age of 17 in order to pursue a life of adventuring around the known world solo. If anyone were to ask him why he left, he probably would never have an answer other than "I want to see what I'm capable of" but there was something much more meaningful at hand. A gut feeling which urged a desire to venture on his own into the world by himself which were almost undoubtedly sparked by the scrapped books he found and read as a child. With the open world ahead of him and home left behind, Dustin would be able to pursue an adventure on his own to "prove himself."

With no sense of true direction, Dustin initially thought of doing an earnest, hardworking job to get a depiction of what city life was like. The life of working as a construction worker near the docks would last Dustin for a few years where he managed to somehow enjoy city life, and the occasional night life that came with it. A night at the club, plus the occasional one night stands with women brought a short sense of the feeling of being young and reckless until he laid eyes on one women he could not let go of and became attached with at age 19. They were nights spent with hard earned money on booze, gambling, and whoring - all of which would take the majority of most of the young man's weekend. Falling in and out of relationships were quite frequent with Dustin but he managed to find one woman who managed to stay with him, for a while at least, until his "maiden" as he called her, cheated on him with another man. When finding out, Dustin found himself in a fist fight that he won almost effortlessly but nearly left the man dead and left his girlfriend all together.

Finding the city life unsatisfying after a while and with a heartbreak of an unloyal woman still aching him, Dustin had plans of leaving the city life to pursue the life of a scavenger although he had no idea where to start or who would hire him. This was until he happened to fall on a small group of scavengers who hired him for his services. Dustin asserted that he was an able body guard, capable of protecting almost anyone from bandits, doing dirty work and assuring that both needs were satisfied. In the eyes of most men, self-dubbed badasses were could most certainly talk the talk but would rarely apply their so called "skills" in most situations. Dustin, whoever, made an exception, when a band of five Forsaken Order raiders arrived at the Scavenger Caravan with malicious intend of hoarding the supplies by force but was mainly stopped in their tracks by Dustin who had proven himself a decent guard. Guardian of scavengers became guardian of caravans, guardian of caravans became guardian of important people, guardian of important people meant a hired gun.

Ironically, by a twist of fate, Dustin would later became the same criminal he did not want to become and for a while in the years which pursued afterwards, the young man became a notable gunslinger and hitman. One who was capable of truly doing what he claimed he was capable of doing - which brought the attention of higher clansmen or factions who would most undoubtedly require his services. Despite being offered a number of jobs which offered him opportunities of fast riches for his services, Dustin would simply inclined those promises of a better life in exchange fro their loyalty and claimed that he was a "low key guy" and wanted to remain a simple gunman, preforming simple jobs from simpletons. Attracting too much attention would definitely put his life at an even more risk with people who would most certainly "meet his level of expertise" and although the money maybe worth it, Dustin thought it would be best to abstain from such opportunities, for now anyways.

One day, while doing a normal raid, the hitman later found himself separated from his group and was alone in a sticky situation with enemies all around him. It was an ambush waiting for them as the entire team was scattered in the camp. The gunslinger had traveled far into the enemy's territory by sheer coincidence and missed most of the cross fire. While trying to make the sounds of his own men from the heavy gunfire with scattered across the entire small battlefield, Dustin would have to shoot his way out. Somewhere in the living quarters, Dustin tried to search for anything that would be useful in blowing his way out of the camp when he stumbled across three men who he immediately killed but not after they would get a shot at him. One of the men held a flamethrower, where he came from, Dustin did not know but the flames managed to burn deep into his left arm before the gunslinger put a bullet through his head, deep into the Pyromancer's gas mask. The possession they were protecting was a small mineral of some sort, which glowed a bright green, even in the daylight. Dustin kept it concealed in his jacket while he managed to escape the premises with his life. The raid was unsuccessful and Dustin managed to some out of their although not completely in one piece as his hand was severely burned from the flamethrower.

A few days of walking (and managing to lose the mineral he found somewhere in the vast desert), the gunslinger managed to find himself in a settlement where they treated his wounds before the infections crawled deep into his wounds. The aftermath was a minor form of leprosy which dug its roots into his skin and caused a excruciatingly burning feeling into his hand. While walking through the hot desert, Dustin was founded by a group of rangers from a local settlement to the North where he was being treated with a handful of pain medication and antibiotics to help rid of the infection. The wounds managed to heal over time although his left pinky just above the middle phalanx was severed due to being so infected and the wounds left dark varicose veins across his lower left arm. His hand now, can still clinch into a fist but not function as properly as it once did before his injuries as he cannot seem to use it to hold a gun properly until he contracted an illness weeks later.

It was weeks after the battle that Dustin began to become sick with a small, minor cold which lasted only a few days but left the young gunslinger tired and wry. The young man would later fall asleep in his small shack he called a home, It was a sleep of heavy and lucid dreaming and when he awoke from his slumber, he realized he had been asleep for several days. However, the moment he woke from his heavy semi-coma, he began to take notice he felt stronger and more keen than ever as his precision with a pistol increased but still left his left hand plagued with the aftermaths of disease but could still hold a pistol with it, somewhat.

The events which unfolded after that raid was nothing more than a story to be told of surviving in the criminal world as Dustin soon turn back to the only job he was ever good at doing. Fate, however, had something in store from him as the young gunslinger seemed to have built another reputation for himself. He began to rise again from the ashes, as a newer, more notorious hitman as his disabilities soon led to his strength in killing albeit restraining himself from ever being famous or being hired by far wealthier employees. To this day, Dustin still tries to live a simple life, free from any sense of ownership and often travels around the known world, often being noted by the people who employ him for his services or bare witness to it.

Gear

Weapons:

• .32 Hunting rifle: A rifle which he uses at times for long range, it is is modded which a longer barrel in order to reach further distances and a scope in order to strike Dustin's targets with immense precision. The large rifle, however, is something that Dustin uses as last resort or as a weapon to kill his enemies long distance.
• Two 9mm handguns, one silver, one black: Two pistols he uses frequently with both hands although he's far better with his right than he is with his left and often has his silver one in his right hand and the black in the other.
• One small .22 handgun: An emergency weapon which is safely hidden in Dustin's right leg, underneath his sock.
• Rusty Katana: A blade of the old world which he rarely uses other than wears it to look cool. He's killed two men before with the ancient sword but doesn't find a practicality in using it. The sword was given to him by his adopted parents when he when travelling alone into the world by himself at age 15.
• 2 Hidden Knifes: Dustin has several different knifes somewhere tight in his clothing that are hidden which he uses for emergency purposes like short-distance fighting.
• 5 Throwing Knifes: When going out on a mission which requires both precision and silence, Dustin uses small knives he uses to throw at his enemies with lethal intention.
• Swiss Army Knife: Not really a weapon he uses, more for practical reasons, if he ever uses it at all.

Armor: On top of Dustin's v-neck undershirt, there lies a white, .2 inch Level II bullet-resistant vest that mainly covers his stomach and chest from bullets. He has found it to be quite useful in most situations but have felt him with swollen bruises and broken bones because of it (but it's better than being shot).
Ammunition:

• Dirty Rounds: Thirten .32 rounds, forty 9mm rounds, eleven .22 rounds.
• High Grade Rounds: Ten .32 rounds, nineteen 9mm rounds, seven .22 rounds.

Old, Green Everest Hiking Backpack:

• Clothes he doesn't wear
• 3 Cans of beans
• Rolled up Sleeping Bag tied to the bottom of his backpack
• A box of matches
• Swiss Army Knife
• Extra gloves
• Canteen and five bottles of water
• Binoculars
• Lockpick set
• Rope (20 feet)
• Dusty map

Some facts:

• Dustin is secretly an obsessive-compulsive and only walks in a number of steps which are divisible by three. This idiosyncrasy has been embedding into his life since the age of 6 when he started to develop a small passion for numbers and maths from the books he read
• Dustin is an excessively quick learner and it does not take him very long to master something. He can read very well, play the guitar (almost virtuosically when he played it at the age of 7), and has a hobby of calculating numbers in his head.
• The hitman also wears a pair of sunglasses to protect himself from his light sensitivity issues.

Immortalis Information

Manifested Phenomena: Precision
Unique Abilities:

• Lethal Precision: With a handgun, Dustin finds himself unable to tremble when he holds a pistol in his right hand apart from having an amazing precision when firing it. He can also enter a phase which he describes as "time slowing down" where he can make every shot count in the small time frame given to him and has a remarkably fine eyesight because of it apart from having slight light sensitivity issues on occasion. Although he has the ability to fire accurately and slow time down, it doesn't make his movement speed any faster.
• Keen Analyzer: Apart from his "remarkably fine eyesight," Dustin is gifted with an ability to read people very well and has little to no trouble figuring out their pasts based on either attire, variations in facial expressions in certain situations, the way they talk etc. He is not entirely sure if it is something he was born with, or developed over time but these abilities were most definitely enhanced after contrasting the Immortalis sometime later in life.

Strengths:

• Dustin can run pretty far without getting winded too easily and endure hard weather change. He does not know where this comes from, but it is believed that it was developed in his days spent running in his childhood.
• Because of his temper and his experience in survival situations, Dustin has developed a sharp-tongue which he uses to defend himself from those to offend him. If his words fail to protect him, his skills with a handgun apply from there on.

Weaknesses:

• If only Dustin had both hands which properly functioned, he would most likely become one of the best gunslingers in the entire land but it seemed like fate had others things in mind instead of having him becoming a world-class gunslinger, had it not been for his left hand being plagued with a minor form of leprosy.
• Dustin has often a hard time letting go of things, the type of anger he would be displayed would be an internal one as he often holds grudges against people and will seek out to make amends for any harm which has been done to him.

Defiance: Thorn-by-the-Sea

I certainly wouldn't mind RPing with a fellow fan of the show - although, he do need more people.

Rask's Broken Horn Band

@Crazy Doctor

HHHIGH FIEV

Rask's Broken Horn Band

Howland watched as the competitors almost effortlessly defeated their seemingly formidable opponents which ease, making their way to the victor stands just near Rask. He needed to be up there if he wanted to pursue his life as an adventurer but who would compete against him? It certainly could not be someone as mediocre as the other competitors who were easily beaten, he needed to make a decent first impression. The room still smelt of shit from the spectacle Wretha displayed earlier, leaving Howland hyped after what Mordrag and Wretha just did to their opponents but made him nervous, realizing he needed to be next.

As quick as a shadow lynx, as sly as a fox. He encouraged, quoting the faded words his younger sister gave him when he conspired to steal a sweet roll from farmer Jak many years ago. Howland could remember the old, auspicious farm where he was once called his warm home. A muddy, dust-filled place that brought to him - a pranging feeling of both nostalgia and despair which ached his heart in a egregious way almost similar to being punched in the gut by a large Gothi brute. He could not return to that place, even the thought of his mother who he failed to protect would leave him in a state of turmoil, would soon flood his mind with darkness that wrenched the young man's heart at even the closest thought of it. The pangs of longing and despair, Howland realized, are far worse than any of the afflictions of physical pain would ever bring to him and the emptiness which followed afterward. His mother, a nurturer and fond friend of his and his sister, who drowned herself in her many books with him. The feelings of home could easily pierce the heart with either joy or plague it with an unrelenting sickness which deprived him of meaning. Howland then closed his eyes to console himself for a brief moment, realizing that he had not arrived here to mourn the dead or become homesick and slowly began to unsheathe his dragon sword, holding he dragon-carved, ancestral pommel in front of his nose to pray to his Gods.

Gods above, bless me the strength to carry this blade in my hand and the will to yield it. He prayed silently to himself. Howland paused for a moment and began to hear a horde of roaring laughter to his left only a few feet away. When he opened his eyes he realized that the laughter was towards him and was inclusively perpetrated by one woman who Howland would most certainly tell was from the the further east from a small providence in the Trattican Empire. She was a tall, beautiful brunette woman behind her freshly-made red war paint who was comprised of green-hazel, almonded shaped eyes and short, curled hair. Like the others, she was big, muscular and formidable. Her ragged leather armor which was slightly exposed and its style, would easily give away her appearance as a Rothka tribesmen of the Ruby Shore of the southern forests to the east, a place once home to the mighty Dragons according to legend before being killed off by invading barbarians.

The Rothkai were known for their incivility, "Shield Maidens" which the Gothi also auspiciously called their women warriors, and a sense of brute, barbaric humor which she most certainly had displayed to the leftover men of the audience she tried to impress behind her. Surly the gods had most certainly chosen a worthy adversary and not one which was prone to boasting and falsely dubbing themselves as a great warrior. Even the way she approached him was different from the other amateurs Howland has faced and defeated in his time.

"Do not mock my gods." He asserted, while a crowd of people soon turned towards them. He stood up to meet her on eye level.

"Fuck yer gods, I shit on your gods." She spat on the floor, her accent thick and sounding malicious nonetheless, it was almost as if she were looking to pick a fight in the ring with him.

"What's wrong with my gods? Let me remind you that Mushar, your God, the God of Strength and War failed to protect your people from the Trattican Peoples who invaded your lands. I doubt he could even protect a weakling like yourself, seeing that he could not protect your own people while he let your men be butchered and your women raped. What a shame, I guess he really does protect the strong." His words were cold but defensive and the tall shield maiden breathed out heavily like a bull does before a charge as veins popped from her forehead and possessed a look with the intent of ripping him to shreds for mocking her people and her god.

"How about we fight in the ring and figure it out?" She suggested, grinding her teeth together to calm herself. "Then we will see whose Gods are truly protecting us." Soon enough, both competitors entered the ring, eager to win the preference of their new employer while the smaller crowd around them talked among themselves and made wagers. The sounds of conversations flooded the room and soon faded as more began to speak and Howland could no longer make sense any wager as it was lost in the sea of other conversation. Both Howland and the Shield maiden readied themselves for battle.

As quick as a shadow lynx, as sly as a fox. Howland took a briefmoment and guided his Longsword just above his nose with both hands on the handle, leveling it with his eyes. If they both had anything in common, it was their methods of fighting, their quick cunning ways of finding exposed weakness in order to strike with lethal intention and their disdain for metal armor, using speed as their advantage to tire their enemy out. It is gong to be a tricky situation. May the Gods be pleased if I find myself out of this. he thought to himself as others around them chanted for the battle to commence. A clash of steel on steel followed afterwards as each competitor trusted or slashed their swords, only to be blocked or dodged.

A series of clangs from their collided blades and chanting came from the room around them as both warriors fought for their position among the pedestal of victors above them. After a while, the battle seemed to be going nowhere as both were almost equally matched as it waged for a few minutes afterward. Howland then backed away to catch his breath while the Shield maiden took hers, crouching protectively behind her wooden shield which was patterned with steel that covered the outer portions and red war paint as she held her sword, still firmly grasped in her leather gloves.

Howland darted toward again, thrusting his pointed blade in one arm towards the cunning warrior who had managed to dodge the incoming blade, just barely missing the top of her dirty brunette head. The warrior then spun around and crouched below him as Howland frantically pranced back, his stomach pressed inward to avoid the blade but not quick enough, the sharp had abruptly sheered through his leather armor and his sensitive flesh below, forcefully cutting through it like a butcher slices through bloody raw pork meat. A intense, searing feeling in his stomach followed shortly after, leaving Howland in agonizing pain as tickles of blood began to flow down his lower abdomen. But he had to stay standing, relentless and willing to fight. He then pranced backwards and stood on guard, realizing the barbarian had a sly jester of a smile on her face as she then realized she could easily finish him.

"Tis but a scratch." He said, thought it was much more than that judging but the pain. The tall shield maiden chuckled through her teeth as if wanting to bit him and go for the throat like a rapid wolf. Howland pending for her to strike, which would most certainly end in him losing this battle if he did not think quickly, tried to think of a way to out maneuver her. Howland braced himself as the warrior woman approached him.

As quick as a shadow lynx, as sly as a fox. Howland moved as quick as he could, trying to dodge her shield bashing with her every move before letting her sword do the work, leaving a part of her shield arm exposed. Howland finally had the upper hand as he left his knife he had just pulled, slice its way downward, cutting the warrior's shield arm deeply. The maiden then let out a subtle cry of pain before jotting backwards and casting a throwing knife in his direction which Howland just barely managed to block with his Longsword. The throwing knife bounced from his sword and dug its way into the sand below him while the warrior made her way almost hopelessly toward Howland. With a few blocks, Howland patiently waited for the opportunity to finally strike when an opening was left wide open. Howland then grabbed the central ridge of his blade with his left hand and letting his right take the fuller portion of the blade and held onto the blade of his sword before striking down on the head of the brute with a considerable force with his pommel.

A loud thump followed afterwards which almost certainly meant a concussion as the crowed shrieked behind him, knowing she was done for. Howland moved back to see what she was going to next as the warrior let out a small grunt before her eyes turned back into her head before falling to the floor half conscious, just catching herself with her sword hand. Without hesitation, he moved in for the kill while the Shield maiden grabbed a hold of her blade and tried to swing, just missing Howland's legs by a foot. She could not tell whether or not Howland was approaching her from a foot of even and a few hundred feet away, everything was faded and unclear to her until the young man grabbed a hold of her sword arm and kicked her shield from her reach. Howland placed the point of his sword towards her neck while spectators asked for blood behind him.

"Mercy, please." She cried, just barely managing to utter words from her tired lips. Her daunting look soon turned to concern as Howland removed the blade from her throat as blood trickled down her neck where the blade once ly. When he let go, she clumsily grabbed her items and ran out of the tavern, injured and shamed.

"Is that good enough for you?" He asked calmly before making us way to the stands near Rask, clutching his stomach wound with both hands and uttering a few incantations he learned from the White Mages who taught him a few minor healing spells to heal his wounds. It was said that the Rothkai people dipped their weapons in cow manure before going into a battle in order to assure that their victims would die form infections. Howland sat in the chairs above the small stands to heal himself with great effort and hopping that was just a rumor.