As soon as Jax faced his assaulter, he headbutted the stranger directly in the nose, kicked his legs out from under him and laid the rusty machete on the guy's throat. "You dont make it this long without knowing how to handle yourself. Who are you?" Jax asked.
Personality: Roman is one of those guys that’s down for his friends. When they’re threatened, he goes from a cheerful and happy man to an unstoppable machine. Faction: Brotherhood of Steel (discharged), Caravan Guard(previously) self-employed (currently)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat) Strength:9 Perception:3 Endurance:9 Charisma:5 Intelligence:5 Agility:3 Luck:8
Backstory: Roman is the son of a vault dweller who came from an unknown vault in Washington and a wastelander. He joined the Brotherhood of Steel in Washington when he was 17. He stayed with them until he was 24, when he was honorably discharged from service. He began wandering until he found New Vegas. He became a Caravan Guard and began saving up caps to start his own business. Now he’s a self-employed gun for hire. He accepts contracts all over the country and enjoys travelling and helping others. Weapon choice: Modified automatic laser rifle that he calls Liberator. A .38 revolver that belonged to his father. A Katana that belonged to his mother’s great great grandfather. Anything else not included above: He also owns his father’s pipboy.
Jax stared at the ground, his machete, covered in dried blood and rust was in his hand, a decapitated geek on the ground. He sighed, slid the blade back into its scabbard on his back and kept walking. His supplies were lacking. His rifle and revolver were on their last load. His food would last two more days, his water, maybe three. He needed to scavenge a city soon. He looked up and down the highway he was on and to the rising sun, before deciding to take off into the woods. He wandered for a bit before noticing the smell of camp fire. He looked up and saw smoke rising from the trees about 30 feet to his right. He crouched and started to stealthily approach the campsite. He hid in the bushes for a bit, careful not to make any noise. He noticed a lone figure sitting by the fire. He emerged from the undergrowth, his blade ready. "Morning. Mind if i join?" he proclaimed with a hint of false cheerfulness.
Backstory: Original: spent the school years with his Cherokee grandfather in North Carolina who taught him to track, hunt, and fish. Spent summers with his parents. His dad was a professor at a law school and his mother was an English professor. He was an honors student as well as a member of the baseball team. After college, he went to work at the state park in NC near his grandfathers house, doing whatever they needed doing. After his grandfather passed when he was 23, he moved into his grandfather's house which was on 20 acres of land and had a 2 hunting cabins and other buildings scattered all around. Perfect for a survival camp. New: Now a hardened killer and a wanderer, Jax has lost everything. He's just looking to survive. His trust in others and in mankind has faded a bit.
Member
Leo Khan