___________________________________
P R O F I L E
AgeLate 20s SexM Height6'1" Weight170lb
RaceHuman OriginCon man Transportation None Starting LocationSully's Rest Color Code0a9b00
___________________________________
I N V E N T O R Y
+ Camping mess kit--includes new EverFlame Portable Neutrino Burner!
+ Medical kit
+ Multi-tool/firearm repair & maintenance kit
____________________________________
E Q U I P M E N T
+ Pre-war Semiauto Pistol - Late pre-war pistol that Rory... acquired from its previous owner. .357 caliber, 9-round magazine.
+ Bolt-action rifle - Old pre-war rifle; careworn but well maintained. Five-round internal magazine, small scope for distance shooting.
+ Flak vest - Pre-war police issue; mostly effective against small pistol rounds and blades
+ Cybernetic Eye - Left eye has been replaced by a cybernetic prosthesis; it mostly functions as a normal eye, but houses a pre-war AI advisor which analyzes data taken from the visual feed and from Rory's brain to make recommendations. Sometimes, they're even useful.
____________________________________
A T T R I B U T E S
Strength: 0
Fitness: 2
Dexterity: 0
Perception: 8
(4 at creation, 4 from [Old World Ghost])
Intellect: 4
(4 at creation)
Endurance: 0 | ____________________________________________________________________________
APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION
Rory is made of long lines and sharp angles. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with coltishly long arms and legs that make him look too skinny. His skin is fairly tan for his natural shade, though no more than usual for his circumstance. He wears his hair short and messy, and the same exposure that tanned his skin has turned his hair honey brown. His right eye is that same color; his left is emerald green, and the sclera unnaturally white. An old, thin scar outlines his jaw; his nose also looks to have been broken at some point.
In motion, Rory has the puppy-like awkwardness that his long limbs would suggest. When he stands up, he has to unknot and unfold himself; when he walks, it's with a too-big stride that can leave even people taller than him marching double-time to keep up. When he talks, he gestures, and the gestures are wide and energetic. His facial expressions are similarly guile-less and exaggerated, and can make him seem younger than he is. Only his eyes--focused eyes, constantly and silently prodding--put the lie to that impression.
His clothing is whatever he can get his hands on, so it tends to be worn, practical, and comfortable, in that order. His jacket is pre-war military surplus, and he wears oversized hiking pants, which he has cinced tightly with a belt and stuffed into his reinforced boots. His bag is a post-war creation based on pre-war hiking packs--canvas sewn on a metal frame. His head is covered by a wide-brimmed felt hat, and a tattered shawl covers his neck. His pistol rides in a plain leather belt holster; his rifle hangs from his backpack when not in use.
____________________________________________________________________________
BACKSTORY
Of his early life, Rory has no memories, only impressions. He remembers being hungry--hunger has been his one constant companion through his life--but he also remembers being warm, and having someone who cared for him. Flashes of brown eyes, smiles, delighted laughing and happy cheers, all of which fade into a pink haze without attaching themselves to anything concrete. If he focuses, he can conjure up his first clear memory, of his mother's face. She looks up at him--eyes bloodshot, skin ashen, and smile wide--as he stands next to her bed. She places one hand on his arm--a cold hand, with more love than strength left in it--and says something to him, though twenty-odd years later he can no longer remember what.
After that, he remembers nights lying alone in their small shelter--and then, after the shelter was taken over by another family, nights lying on the cold street. To a child not yet ten years old, that time seemed to last for an eternity, but the man recounting the memory has seen the fate of children living on the street with no support, and knows that it couldn't have been more than a few weeks. He remembers a large-ish man bending down over him where he huddled in a worn blanket. He doesn't remember most of the conversation, but he does remember these words: "I'll take care of you."
And to the man's credit, he did. Rory remembers several other children more or less his age--they were the scraps, the leftovers, and none of them knew exactly how old they were--running in a pack through the settlement, harassing passers-by for whatever they had and stealing from the local merchants. They gave a cut of whatever they found to the man who--so graciously, he always reminded them, so generously--let them sleep in a pile on the floor under his roof, chased away angry adults who sought the return of their stolen goods, and only hit them when they had failed to bring in their quota more than one day in a row.
Rory remembers not being the strongest or the fastest, but he does remember being the quickest thinker out of the group, the one who was always first to spot new opportunities and dangers. He remembers learning how to find people's blind spots. Adults were first--he was the one who figured out how to tell the people who would be taken in by a cute face and a sob story, and who would be lured away by a bait thief and their own anger--but he soon turned those skills on his fellow criminals. He remembers that, by the time he was in his mid-teens, the other kids in his cohort looked to him to resolve their disputes and to come up with their schemes.
He remembers the look on the boss's face when that man finally realized how popular Rory was among the orphans he had taken in. It wasn't the look he had expected--the kind of look he usually got when bringing in an unusually large haul. It was searching, though at the time he wasn't yet wise enough to know what for.
Rory remembers the gradual shift from petty theft to protection rackets, then to occasional caravan ambushes. He remembers the numbers of his initial group of children dwindling, both from desertion and from more violent fates--but that the number of people in the gang that looked to him for guidance never decreased. He very vividly remembers realizing that the look on the boss's face when he would return unharmed from a dangerous assignment was in fact disappointment.
Rory doesn't remember the boss's son--Rory was never clear on if they were actually related by blood, or if he was just another orphan that the boss had taken a particular shine to--accompanying them on any of those dangerous tasks, at least not until the very end. He does remember the little shit throwing a tantrum when the boss approved his expedition to find a nearby military bunker whose location the kid had beaten out of a traveling merchant, only to tell him he had to bring Rory along with him. Rory remembers not wanting to go, either, but neither of them were willing to openly defy the boss.
The thing Rory remembers most about the bunker is the smell--settled dust, rusting metal, harsh chemicals whose identity he could only guess at. He remembers the machine they found--like a steel coffin, tubes snaking out in every direction--and the sound of the boss's son cocking his pistol. Remembers the pounding of his heart as they sealed him in, eager to discover what the device's purpose was and not at all concerned with his well-being. He remembers the grinning face looking in at him from the small viewport as the chamber filled with gas.
Rory remembers waking up, his head throbbing, his guts roiling. Remembers looking up to see the people who had come with him--the boss's son included--lying butchered on the floor nearby, the machine that did it laying in a pile with bullet holes through it. Remembers losing his lunch.
Remembers a voice, coming from nowhere, say, //Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I detect that you are in distress.//
Rory straightens up on the barstool he's warming at Sully's Rest and runs a finger along the butt of the pistol he remembers looting from the boss's son. He doesn't remember making the decision to run, but he must have done it, and he knows why--returning from that mission as the only survivor might as well have been suicide. He has faint memories of days spent lying still, waiting for a group of mutants to move on so he could continue on his way through the wastes. Most of all, he remembers the tales he heard from travelers of a great, shining city, a fragment of the old world, and the safety it promised, and his determination to get there and...
Well. He'll figure that out later.
____________________________________________________________________________
PERSONALITY
Outwardly, Rory is a friendly and generous person; he makes an effort to remember people's names, their likes and dislikes, and he's often willing to lend a hand even without being asked. He's not infrequently found buying drinks for other people, or in the middle of a crowd, and he's usually quick to forgive offense given. He's a social drinker, as well as a chronic gambler.
Inwardly, Rory sees this friendliness as an act. He expects the worst from others--not unreasonable, given his upbringing--and so he is constantly looking for any bit of information or leverage he can use to gain an advantage over the people around him. When it's necessary--to secure further advantage or to save his own skin--he will exploit the weaknesses he's found. He much prefers that to come in the form of calling out favors and trading on people's goodwill than he does blackmail or threats, but the latter are by no means off the table.
Rory tells himself that the reason he defaults to manipulating people the friendly way is because it's easier and lower risk. By this point, he pretty much believes it, too.
____________________________________________________________________________
MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK
+ He sees life as a constant fight for survival. Even when his meals have come regularly, they haven't come easily, and he's been aware since a very young age that tomorrow isn't guaranteed.
+ He does not trust other people to have his interests in mind. His value to other people has been dictated by his usefulness; he at least claims to have the same outlook.
+ He is looking for a place where he can be safe. At least right now, that's Ardhelm, the rumored city of wonders.
____________________________________________________________________________
MODIFIERS
[Old World Ghost] - A pre-war AI construct inhabits Rory's cybernetic eye, helping him spot threats and make more accurate visual calculations. However, the implant wasn't designed for him and the calibration mismatch has made him less coordinated than he used to be. [+4 Perception, -1 Fitness, -1 Dexterity] |
Eviledd1984
op2024
Silent Showers
ErosSense
SmileyForTheCam
DracoLunaris
rush99999
Nani
Guardian Angel Haruki
Hope Lover
.600.1412126.jpg)
.full.418146.jpg)