End Here — Roleplayer Guild

Name/Nicknames: Milo “Just Milo”

Age: Twenty-Eight

Appearance:  Milo is roughly 5’11(1.8m) He sits at 170lbs (12stone). His skin color causes him to be slightly more tan than others due to his mixed heritage. He has a friendly face, and rough and calloused hands. He has a scar which runs from just under his left year ending on his right cheek bone. He wears a leather flight suit (Similar to the BoS uniform.) Over the top he wears a ragged cloak, old and worn leather boots and on his back he carries a homemade rucksack, with a metal backing. He carries a long pipe rifle of his own design, its shelled in 20mm, its slung across his shoulder while traveling. For close encounters he uses a short sword crafted from a jagged piece of metal grinded down to a point and to have an edge. The handle is but para-cord wrapped around the hilt. Other than that gear he keeps a pair of long johns in his rucksack, extra rope, a small medical kit, with a single stimpack, some stitching thread a needle, and homemade bandages. He keeps a small amount of cat food on him for dire emergency. 

Race: Human

Personality: Although he’s been through hardship after hardship Milo keeps a positive attitude, he’s always kind to those he meets and tries to help out whenever possible.  He’ll give his last bit of food to a stranger, or spend time with those who are dying. It's not often Milo doesn’t have a smile on his face, if he doesn’t it's because he’s either asleep or eating. Quick to drop a joke during a stressful time, or to make light of a tense situation. 
Milo has worked hard to change his personality to what it currently is. In the past milo hunted humans, robbed, and stole what he wanted when he wanted. He was a proficient hunter, and killer. He has a warped sense of right and wrong, though slowly he is understand what they both truly mean.

Skills/Attributes: 
Sniper, Through years of training and personal experience milo has become an excellent sniper.

Scavenger, having become very resourceful on the land he’s discovered a natural talent for finding useful junk.

Gunsmith, from being trained at a young age, he’s able to piece together guns, or maintain current ones.

Hunter, he’s learned to hunt from those he met on the land, and from his time on the ship.

Self defense. Having been in multiple scuffles over the years he’s learned to defend himself in hand to hand combat, and has become very proficient.

Back-story: Born on an aircraft carrier in the year 2249 with only a meager twenty people left on board the ship drifted aimlessly. Milo was trained from a very young age to maintain, and piece together weapons. It was his primary job while on board the ship. He was apprenticed under his Uncle Max. Throughout his life he participated in several raids on main lands the last being America, they’d fly in one of the two Vertibirds which worked on the ship to steal, and plunder. Often killing those in their way. Sometimes they’d take in new recruits, and breeding stock to diversify the gene pool. Milo’s other job was to man the rifle-cannon. He was the anti-vehicle sniper and occasionally personnel. During Milo’s time they never allowed new recruits on board it was saved for the strictest emergencies. The decision was made to sail across the “pond” as their captain frequently called it. At some point during their trip in the dead of night an explosion ripped a hole through its hull, they couldn’t shore up the hole it was several decks long, and very wide.  He never figured out what happened, but they couldn’t contain the fire or fix the damage, between the flooding and the damage from the fire they lost the birds and the ship. As his father burned to death, the last captain of the ship himself and a few other managed to make it to the life-boat. 

It had room to hold, thirty people. They had enough rad-x and radaway to last a year.  He was made captain of the boat and they sailed away from the burning mass in the center of the ocean. They drifted for five long months. They left with five souls on board. The first died  in the first week, due to injuries sustained from the fire. They survived off of mutated sea life, and birds who landed on the boat. They had a prototype g.e.c.k.o. which was outfitted for the US navy, it supplied them with limited bottles of water per day. The second died two months into it from starvation. The other three did what they had to, to survive. The third and forth both died from dysentery, a week before they hit land.  

He ran aground early in the morning, it was raining. He managed to find shelter in an abandoned building taking what meager supplies he had with him. Over the next year he moved from location to location taking what he could and surviving off what little food he had. He took to stealing from the unfortunate souls he came across often robbing them and stealing their goods. More often than not he left them dead so they couldn’t identify him. Eventually he pieced together his rifle, from parts at abandoned military outposts, the dead servicemen, and other various locations. He came across a small settlement near the coast, he watched them for several days remembering the training he received from the holo-tapes and the books he read. He monitored their routines, found chinks in their defense, and eventually found out who the leadership was. The following  morning, he began his assault, his rounds would tear its target apart, painting those next to them in the blood of their loved ones. They’d built a wall with one exit, and it took him almost two hours to kill everyone settlement. There were only eight people, as he searched through the dead he found that one of the women were pregnant, and she was holding onto life, his bullet had shredded her abdomen. He sat next to her, and laid her head in his lap, she told him everything as she lay there dying..  At this moment in his life he decided things had to change, for some reason this woman had, had a profound impact on his life.
 He changed his ways slowly, but eventually did. He helped those he found that were in need. He buried the dead, and fed the hungry. Eventually he found a small settlement to live in, one who had no idea of his past. He’d started collecting ammo for his weapon instead of spending it. He rarely had to use it, he still felt as an outcast and didn’t quite live within the village of Silvershaw. He was fairly sure that no one believed that he was American or had an idea what it was. Just as he barely knew about this place.
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I am a human, not a toaster.

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