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Futuristic He Was Right [CS]

Raku

Four Thousand Club
Appearance : (preferably a pic, no anime)

Additional Physical Info: (scars, birthmarks, clothing style {remember, we're a little bit in the future and society has kinda fallen. clothes will be tattered and dirty})

Name :

Nickname : (if they have any)

Age: (18+. if you want one younger they have to be a side character)

Gender:

Sexuality:

Personality: (short paragraph)

Background: (where were you before the settlement? were you born in the settlement? how have things been for you in the settlement? at least two good paragraphs)

Habits:

Strengths:

Equipment:

Other: (anything else you might want to add)

sorry, forgot to add equipment
 
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Additional Physical Info: On his back he has a large diagonal scar from a fight he got into. It caused his already ripped brown leather jacket and black shirt to have a rip where he was cut. He wears slightly torn dark blue jeans that have a few blood splotches on them, a black t-shirt, and a heavily torn brown leather jacket.

Name : Jared Riddic

Nickname : Havoc or J-Rod.

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Personality: Some say he's lost his sanity in the silence of the destroyed world. Jared could be considered psychotic, or sinister, or just downright insane. He laughs at things others would cry at, smiles at things others wound frown upon. He understands empathy and sympathy, but sees them as irrelevant in the new world. Despite this he is still seemingly friendly, greeting people with a somewhat sinister grin. When he's fighting he seems evil almost. If you're ever fighting alongside him, you'll hear nothing but low, creepy chuckles as he slays his targets.

Background: Jared was born a traveler, his small family was very nomadic. His father would hunt, mother would prepare the food, and he would sit and watch. Gaining a modest education from what his parents could recall from what their parents taught them, he wasn't stupid. His father taught him how to use a series of weapons, Jared's favorite was a mixture between and ax and a buzz saw that his grandfather made. His father rarely used it because he didn't enjoy fighting. Unfortunately for him, his parents were killed by raiders when he was 16. He was broken after that. This is what caused him to become the way he is. Seeing the way they killed them, he realized the world was broken, and only the strong will survive.

After a year of wandering he came upon the Fulmer Settlement. The Fulmer is the second largest settlement in the country, life was good. This is where he earned the name Havoc. While in the barracks, he was known for his aggressive fighting style (and seemingly evil personality). He had stayed there for a while, enjoying life as a fighter. All was swell, until he disrespected the captain. The two fought for a while, and by the end both were beat pretty bad. Jared was the only one who walked away with a serious injury though. A large gash on his back from a narrowly avoided slash. After his wound was healed he was banished from the Fulmer. He turned back to his nomadic roots, traveling until he came upon something. Nearing his 27th birthday, he came upon the Winston. To most who have heard, they've learned of how he is, crazy.


Habits: Flashing a sinister grin, giving people his signature chuckle, cracking his knuckles and neck.

Strengths: Pain tolerance, lack of sanity, combat

Equipment: As said before, a perfect mixture of an ax and a buzz saw. It's a bit more degraded than the picture.
images (12).jpg


Other:

 
Zby6cij.jpg

Additional Physical Info: Most often seen as above, painted sigil on any visible flesh; used to help camouflage herself in the woods. They mean nothing and she could use random patterns just as easily, but she likes how it throws the locals off.

Name : Dawn Henderson

Nickname : Witch

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Personality: Dawn is quite reclusive, choosing to remain outside of Winston most of the time. She is rather shy when she first meets new people but that is not to say she is fearful or disinterested, she simply doesn't see the need in developing closer relationships with anyone in particular.

Background: Dawn's parents were traders, traveling between the settlements with goods and wares; she spent most of her early life with them alone and she got to see much of what remained of the world. Dawn received some of the best education from the settlements; her parents were adamant on her being well received wherever she traveled, believing she would keep up their work, as they had from their parents. Between settlements she and her parents foraged and hunted for food and rarities, teaching her how to survive outside of a settlement with ease.

At the age of twelve she and her parents were on their way to Winston to conduct business when they were over run by Raiders. Her father had been killed right off while she and her mother had been abducted by the crew. She was made to serve them; cook meals, tend to their horses, carry their packs, for months until her mother fell ill. Naturally they viewed the two as cattle and none had the wherewithal or knowledge of how to tend to an invalid woman, they killed her. This set Dawn on her pathway to isolation. That night, when the Raiders settled she crept about the camp and killed each and everyone of them where they slept. By the sun's next light she had all of their items pack on their horse backs and her families wagon and headed back towards Winston.

She arrived, caked in blood trailing eight horses and all the Raiders worldly goods, earning her the nickname Witch; there was simply no better way to describe how she had come to stay alive. She traded and sold everything in her haul. With what she earned she enough to higher men from the settlement to build her a small private cabin in the woods away from Winston, but still close enough to be considered part of the settlement. She still resides in the same one room cabin, hunting and foraging for her meals and for trade for items she cannot supply herself. She acts like a scout for the local authority as she knows the woods and wilderness surrounding the settlement better than any other.


Habits: Often has a deadpan stare when she is within the settlement, though once outside and within her comfort zone she does smile and laugh.

Strengths: Stalking; she is light footed from years of hunting. Observant. Quick witted.

Equipment: Her custom made bow and simple knives are all she needs for survival.
ZnGWHWU.jpg

FwZ5lot.jpg


Other: Dawn often will take in and raise wild animals around the woods, though she doesn't see them as pets but as companions. As in the image above, she current has an owl that she hunts with and two hunting dogs that were abandoned by locals from Winston.

Raku Raku
 
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Zby6cij.jpg

Additional Physical Info: Most often seen as above, painted sigil on any visible flesh; used to help camouflage herself in the woods. They mean nothing and she could use random patterns just as easily, but she likes how it throws the locals off.

Name : Dawn Henderson

Nickname : Witch

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Personality: Dawn is quite reclusive, choosing to remain outside of Winston most of the time. She is rather shy when she first meets new people but that is not to say she is fearful or disinterested, she simply doesn't see the need in developing closer relationships with anyone in particular.

Background: Dawn's parents were traders, traveling between the settlements with goods and wares; she spent most of her early life with them alone and she got to see much of what remained of the world. Dawn received some of the best education from the settlements; her parents were adamant on her being well received wherever she traveled, believing she would keep up their work, as they had from their parents. Between settlements she and her parents foraged and hunted for food and rarities, teaching her how to survive outside of a settlement with east.

At the age of twelve she and her parents were on their way to Winston to conduct business when they were over run by Raiders. Her father had been killed right off while she and her mother had been abducted by the crew. She was made to serve them; cook meals, tend to their horses, carry their packs, for months until her mother fell ill. Naturally they viewed the two as cattle and none had the wherewithal or knowledge of how to tend to an invalid woman, they killed her. This set Dawn on her pathway to isolation. That night, when the Raiders settled she crept about the camp and killed each and everyone of them where they slept. By the sun's next light she had all of their items pack on their horse backs and her families wagon and headed back towards Winston.

She arrived, caked in blood trailing eight horses and all the Raiders worldly goods, earning her the nickname Witch; there was simply no better way to describe how she had come to stay alive. She traded and sold everything in her haul. With what she earned she enough to higher men from the settlement to build her a small private cabin in the woods away from Winston, but still close enough to be considered part of the settlement. She still resides in the same one room cabin, hunting and foraging for her meals and for trade for items she cannot supply herself. She acts like a scout for the local authority as she knows the woods and wilderness surrounding the settlement better than any other.


Habits: Often has a deadpan stare when she is within the settlement, though once outside and within her comfort zone she does smile and laugh.

Strengths: Stalking; she is light footed from years of hunting. Observant. Quick witted.

Equipment: Her custom made bow and simple knives are all she needs for survival.
ZnGWHWU.jpg

FwZ5lot.jpg


Other: Dawn often will take in and raise wild animals around the woods, though she doesn't see them as pets but as companions. As in the image above, she current has an owl that she hunts with and two hunting dogs that were abandoned by locals from Winston.

Raku Raku

It's good. Accepted.
 
Appearance:
image.jpeg


Additional Physical Info: Always wears gloves to hide the scars on his hands. He usually wears a long sleeve Nirvana T-shirt, the white shirt now brown and grey with dirt and old bloodstains, dark blue jeans that hide most of them stains on them, Silver sneakers that are covered in caked on dirt and grime. Usually also wears a bandana around his face. Other instances he wears a black long-sleeve, black cargo pants, his gloves, and a black hood as well as his bandana(usually something he wears at night)

Name : Ryan Miller

Nickname : Ghost, Mill, Ry

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Personality:
Wip
Background:
Wip
Habits:

Tends to tug on gloves when nervous or anxious
Complains about trivial things as a joke, but never complains about things that people work hard for/on.

Strengths:
Negotiation- Depending on the situation, Ryan is pretty good at talking things out with others, i.e. Out of a fight, but not out of something like a full-scale war.

CQC- Ryan, having come from a law enforcement/military background, is a pretty damn good martial artist with enough knowledge to defend himself effectively.


Equipment:
Colt M1911 Handgun- No ammunition, it's more for show then anything
Brass Knuckles- Good 'ol knuckle dusters. Used to be illegal, but it's an apocalypse, only law now is survival of the fittest.


Other: Hates spiders, and coffee. Loves animals, rock music, old cars.
 
Appearance: (I prefer to write an original description, but if it's not up to par I'll gladly choose a picture.) James stands at 6'2", and weighs in at 180 lbs. This weight is distributed evenly between his legs and torso. He holds a runner's build with less muscle definition and more athletic ability. It's possible, I promise. You dont have to look like a gym rat to be a badass. He has a strict physical training routine, and endulges in training his fighting technique whenever possible. His strong facial features are accented by his almost gray eyes and the scruff he usually doesn't bother to shave until it gets itchy. His hair is a chestnut color, and finds itself dying many large curls that sometimes choose to behave and sometimes don't. When they don't, however, his Jew Fro barely fits under his hood. Thin black clothe is all the protection his body sports, as his fighting style mainly focuses on not getting hit. His matching cargo pants are held up by a brown leather belt. He wears no gloves, and tthe hands of our man are variously scarred and sometimes scanned from his constant conditioning. The calluses from years of weapon play on the inside of his hands are nearly a centimeter thick. What usually catches people's eye are the weapons he sports. Because there's a lot of them.

Additional Physical Info: He has a scar on his left breast where he was struck with a barbed arrow during a skirmish. As such, he has one punctured lung. Other than that many smaller scars from fast blades throughout the years.

Name: James Tinker

Nickname: The Comedian

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Personality: James is generally energetic. He seems to have an air about him that's always waiting for something to happen. He likes both large battles and crowds for the same reason, he enjoys an audience. He likes to make jokes, pick fights, and win games all for the sake of personal fulfillment. He gets a rush out of it. Because of this he's developed a habit of trash talking both in combat and out. Despite this, however, he doesn't put others down. He was raised and taught respect, but warped his morals a tad so that he can almost turn it off and I'm. He believes strong people should lift others up, but sometimes a motherfucker needs put down.

Background: James was born to a nomadic husband and wife tinkerer duo. His parents were equal parts weapon smiths, crafters, and traders. Their goods mostly consisting of spare parts and quality knives from their portable forge. They kept most of their explosives and specialty weapons to themselves. When happening upon a more wealthy landowner with a militia they would sell the whole stockpile and move on. Quick. This way they stayed impartial and as far away from the war they may have started locally.

Both James's mother and father were experienced fighters, and one of his favorite childhood pastimes was watching them spar each other during training time after lunch. He learned weapon play of all types from them, and specialized in the longsword. As he grew, he found a talent for the martial arts and dueling. It was only through working the stand he learned he was funny, and liked talking to people. Making friends in the towns they passed through gave him a varied and interesting mindset. He picked up juggling, poetry, and stand up comedy quickly and enjoyed getting customers to the stand using these talents. Occasionally he'd make a little coin performing in the pubs they passed, but by the time he turned seventeen he was performing for bar tabs instead of coin. So, when the rents were caught in the crossfire of a local gang fight in one of their stops, he was left on his own with the store wares and a drinking problem. He moved onto the next town and sold everything, including the forge and the horses.

From then on he offered tinkering help to anyone who could afford it and needed their armor or weapons repaired. Still he kept up performing and meeting travelers. He was raised with love and despite the hole in his heart left by his parents, he understood it was how life is. This led him to become more detached as the years went on. So when he won a bar fight against three much larger opponents in front of a man willing to pay for those particular talents he started his merc career without a second thought.

He rolled with that crew for about a year, and life was good. They drank together, rolled through towns working under the orders of some land owner he'd never even seen. It was when he was ordered to raze a town to the ground and leave no survivors he had a problem. He argued that they'd done nothing wrong, to which they replied what do you care? To which he replied by making them care less, with several knives to several throats. Because of that, however, he now has a price on his head, and so moved into the next settlement in his path. New Carolina. Now he's looking for work, or anything else to grab his attention.


Habits: Telling jokes, juggling when passive or waiting on something, checking his guns.

Strengths: Weapon play, boxing, crafting, Jokes.

Equipment: At both his hips are two combat knives, unidentical. On his back is his favorite weapon, a black bladed cavalry-style sword about two feet long with a hand and a half hilt wrapped in leather. It almost seems to be tempered scrap metal, as it's blade is jagged and uneven. In both his boots are two throwing knives each. For stealthier kills and operations is a hidden blade that can extend and retract with a flick of the wrist.

The triangle hiker's bag and bedroll on his back are his only other gear. Inside the bag is usually some preserved food, his money, his small toolkit, and extra ammo. This is generally all he needs when traveling.

James' best friends: Not always at his side, but always very near is a Great Dane rottweiler mixed mutt named Fuck. Fuck wanders around on his own, can hunt his own food, but has a bond with James that keeps him near. He's trained to come at the sound of his name, and because of his keen ear can hear it being spoken at over 200 yards. Additionally, he understands simple orders such as quiet, fetch, sick em, and find. Weighing in at 180 lbs, he's terrifying when given the sick em order.
 
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Appearance:
View attachment 300163


Additional Physical Info: Always wears gloves to hide the scars on his hands. He usually wears a long sleeve Nirvana T-shirt, the white shirt now brown and grey with dirt and old bloodstains, dark blue jeans that hide most of them stains on them, Silver sneakers that are covered in caked on dirt and grime. Usually also wears a bandana around his face. Other instances he wears a black long-sleeve, black cargo pants, his gloves, and a black hood as well as his bandana(usually something he wears at night)

Name : Ryan Miller

Nickname : Ghost, Mill, Ry

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Personality:
Wip
Background:
Wip
Habits:

Tends to tug on gloves when nervous or anxious
Complains about trivial things as a joke, but never complains about things that people work hard for/on.

Strengths:
Negotiation- Depending on the situation, Ryan is pretty good at talking things out with others, i.e. Out of a fight, but not out of something like a full-scale war.

CQC- Ryan, having come from a law enforcement/military background, is a pretty damn good martial artist with enough knowledge to defend himself effectively.


Equipment:
Colt M1911 Handgun- No ammunition, it's more for show then anything
Brass Knuckles- Good 'ol knuckle dusters. Used to be illegal, but it's an apocalypse, only law now is survival of the fittest.


Other: Hates spiders, and coffee. Loves animals, rock music, old cars.

We are 40+ years after the bombs were dropped. A job pertaining to law enforcement would be very crude and low skill. A military occupation would result in more skill though. Also, how would they get a hand on rock music? For the most part (other than the WIP things) it's good, just needs a little fixing.

Appearance: (I prefer to write an original description, but if it's not up to par I'll gladly choose a picture.) James stands at 6'2", and weighs in at 180 lbs. This weight is distributed evenly between his legs and torso. He holds a runner's build with less muscle definition and more athletic ability. It's possible, I promise. You dont have to look like a gym rat to be a badass. He has a strict physical training routine, and endulges in training his fighting technique whenever possible. His strong facial features are accented by his almost gray eyes and the scruff he usually doesn't bother to shave until it gets itchy. His hair is a chestnut color, and finds itself dying many large curls that sometimes choose to behave and sometimes don't. When they don't, however, his Jew Fro barely fits under his hood. Thin black clothe is all the protection his body sports, as his fighting style mainly focuses on not getting hit. His matching cargo pants are held up by a brown leather belt. He wears no gloves, and tthe hands of our man are variously scarred and sometimes scanned from his constant conditioning. The calluses from years of weapon play on the inside of his hands are nearly a centimeter thick. What usually catches people's eye are the weapons he sports. Because there's a lot of them.

Additional Physical Info: He has a scar on his left breast where he was struck with a barbed arrow during a skirmish. As such, he has one punctured lung. Other than that many smaller scars from fast blades throughout the years.

Name: James Tinker

Nickname: The Comedian

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Personality: James is generally energetic. He seems to have an air about him that's always waiting for something to happen. He likes both large battles and crowds for the same reason, he enjoys an audience. He likes to make jokes, pick fights, and win games all for the sake of personal fulfillment. He gets a rush out of it. Because of this he's developed a habit of trash talking both in combat and out. Despite this, however, he doesn't put others down. He was raised and taught respect, but warped his morals a tad so that he can almost turn it off and I'm. He believes strong people should lift others up, but sometimes a motherfucker needs put down.

Background: James was born to a nomadic husband and wife tinkerer duo. His parents were equal parts weapon smiths, electricians, and traders. Their goods mostly consisting of spare parts and quality knives from their portable forge. They kept most of their explosives and specialty weapons to themselves. When happening upon a more wealthy landowner with a militia they would sell the whole stockpile and move on. Quick. This way they stayed impartial and as far away from the war they may have started locally.

Both James's mother and father were experienced fighters, and one of his favorite childhood pastimes was watching them spar each other during training time after lunch. He learned weapon play of all types from them, and specialized in the longsword. As he grew, he found a talent for the martial arts and dueling. It was only through working the stand he learned he was funny, and liked talking to people. Making friends in the towns they passed through gave him a varied and interesting mindset. He picked up juggling, poetry, and stand up comedy quickly and enjoyed getting customers to the stand using these talents. Occasionally he'd make a little coin performing in the pubs they passed, but by the time he turned seventeen he was performing for bad tabs instead of coin. So, when the rents were caught in the crossfire of a local gang fight in one of their stops, he was left on his own with the store wares and a drinking problem. He moved onto the next town and sold everything, including the forge and the horses.

From then on he offered tinkering help to anyone who could afford it and needed their generator or vehicle fixed. Still kept up performing and meeting travelers. He was raised with love and despite the hole in his heart left by his parents, he understood it was how life is. This led him to become more detached as the years went on. So when he won a bar fight against three much larger opponents in front of a man willing to pay for those particular talents he started his merc career without a second thought.

He rolled with that crew for about a year, and life was good. They drank together, rolled through towns working under the orders of some land owner he'd never even seen. It was when he was ordered to raze a town to the ground and leave no survivors he had a problem. He argued that they'd done nothing wrong, to which they replied what do you care? To which he replied by making them care less, with several knives to several throats. Because of that, however, he now has a price on his head, and so moved into the next settlement in his path. New Carolina. Now he's looking for work, or anything else to grab his attention.


Habits: Telling jokes, juggling when passive or waiting on something, checking his guns.

Strengths: Weapon play, boxing, tinkering, Jokes.

Equipment: Four strange guns strapped to the front of his chest, each different sizes and lengths, but relatively similar. They are shaped and function similar to daringers, in the fact that they only fire a single shot each. Why carry these weapons around, you ask? Because each of them was designed by James's father. They all have an adjustable barrel that can hold any caliber bullet from .22 to .50. But, at only one shot each, it's basically an updated flint lock. Because of this choice of weapon, he has two pouches on his left and right back hooked to his belt full of ammo of any size he picks up. At both his hips are two combat knives, unidentical. On his back is his favorite weapon, a black bladed cavalry-style sword about two feet long with a hand and a half hilt wrapped in leather. In both his boots are two throwing knives each, as well as one in both sleeves.

The triangle hiker's bag and bedroll on his back are his only other gear. Inside the bag is usually some preserved food, his money, his small toolkit, and extra ammo. This is generally all he needs when traveling.

His motorcycle, however, is not equipment. So don't tell him I'm writing it's description under equipment. It's his baby. It belonged to his father, who would let him take it on in a joy ride occasionally. It was the only thing he kept after he sold their wares. It's main body is a faded scratched and dull iron gray. It runs like a dream, as most of his spare cash goes into fixing it up. On the front handlebars and wheel bar is welded a decent amount of scrap metal forming a dangerous jagged people catcher. For when a motherfucker is in his way and he doesn't feel like telling them to move.

Other: Seriously, don't touch the bike.

The bike and guns would rarely, if not ever, be used. Almost all gasoline and firearms ammunition has been used up, most generators and vehicles were scrapped for armor or sold to others. A good bunch of it's good, but remember, we're 40+ years past the destruction of the world
 
We are 40+ years after the bombs were dropped. A job pertaining to law enforcement would be very crude and low skill. A military occupation would result in more skill though. Also, how would they get a hand on rock music? For the most part (other than the WIP things) it's good, just needs a little fixing.



The bike and guns would rarely, if not ever, be used. Almost all gasoline and firearms ammunition has been used up, most generators and vehicles were scrapped for armor or sold to others. A good bunch of it's good, but remember, we're 40+ years past the destruction of the world

Sorry, I thought we were talking a sort of "Into the badlands" esc universe. It's edited.
 
M MaryJane Alright, he's good now! Sorry it took me so long, this page got lost in my notifications. Also, it's gonna be funny how many times that dog his gonna show up when Jared is around.
 
Appearance :
th
Brown, combed over hair. Light skin, EXTREMELY pale.


Additional Physical Info: Tiny scars on his wrist, and freckles all over his face.

Name : Murphy Liopez

Nickname : Pyro Bomb ( He's handcrafted a flamethrower, which i'll mention later.

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Sexuality:
Pan-sexual


Personality: Murphy is a sociopath, and has a killing record of 7, each on bandits. He does have a softer side towards younger people, and animals. ( Don't forget girls, * WINK WINK. * ) He's also the funny guy of each group he's in. Surprisingly, he is the best friend you could ever have, and is as loyal as a fucking German shepherd.

Background: Murphy grew up in the slums, as his grandfather called the outside. His mother died during his birth, and his father was bit to death by a wolf. He was raised by his Grandfather, who died from Lung Cancer. He shortly moved to the settlement, where he kind of doesn't fit in, with the rest of the citizens. ( He DOES threaten them, I mean. ) All he does now, is scavenge for gas, and diesel, for flamethrower rounds.

Habits: Making fires, petting dogs, breaking sticks, ( No CLUE WHY. ) playing with a Rubik cube, and etc.

Strengths: He may be insane, but he is very intelligent in making chemicals. This is shown by his ability to make flame thrower rounds, along with his mechanical skills, with his handcrafted flamethrower.

Equipment: A handcrafted flamethrower, with the words ' Sugar Daddy ' painted onto it, a small pocket knife, a tool set, and a handheld chemistry set.

Other: Not much, other than the fact he wears a fucking military flamethrower division uniform.
 
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Appearance :
th
Brown, combed over hair. Light skin, EXTREMELY pale.


Additional Physical Info: Tiny scars on his wrist, and freckles all over his face.

Name : Murphy Liopez

Nickname : Pyro Bomb ( He's handcrafted a flamethrower, which i'll mention later.

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Personality: Murphy is a sociopath, and has a killing record of 7, each on bandits. He does have a softer side torwards younger people, and animals. ( Don't forget girls, * WINK WINK. * ) He's also the funny guy of each group he's in.

Background: Murphy grew up in the slums, as his grandfather called the outside. His mother died during his birth, and his father was bit to death by a wolf. He was raised by his Grandfather, who died from Lung Cancer. He shortly moved to the settlement, where he kind of doesn't fit in, with the rest of the citizens. ( He DOES threaten them, I mean. )

Habits: Making fires, petting dogs, breaking sticks, ( No CLUE WHY. ) playing with a rubix cube, and etc.

Strengths: He may be insane, but he is very intelligent in making chemicals. This is shown by his ability to make flame thrower rounds, along with his mechanical skills, with his handcrafted flamethrower.

Equipment: A handcrafted flamethrower, with the words ' Sugar Daddy ' painted onto it, a small pocket knife, a tool set, and a handheld chemistry set.

Other: Not much, other than the fact he wears a fucking military flamethrower division uniform.

Definitely going to be an interesting character. As for the suit, there's no way he'd be able to get his hands on one. Next to all military equipment was destroyed when the bombs were dropped 40 years ago. Any advanced technology like we have today would be in secret bunkers further north that no one will have a way in. As for the flamethrower, it would be used often as even the most common chemicals used today would not be as available at this time. The backstory is a little short as well.
 
images (18).jpg

Here's what'd I'd imagine his flamethrower would look like. Crude yet functional.
 

20170309_215900.jpg




Name:
Magik Flores (just call her Magik.)

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Personality: Blunt, Logical but not a wet blanket and certainly not emotionless. She is a loyal friend and will fight for what she thinks is right. May look innocent but will cut you down if you're in her path or have crossed a line she deems horrible. Mercy killing is more to her liking than senseless murder. Won't share her thoughts with a person unless they have known her for a while or has a connection with her somehow. the girl prefers close combat where she can nobly fight her foe.

Background: She fought with a previous small settlement a few of her friends attempted to found for the orphans and forgotten ones, the settlement having been a peaceful one it grew in popularity in local areas but was quickly overrun by a much larger ones. a massacre having taken place and scared her mind forever after watching her friends be dishonorably killed in a battle. After the fact she survived barely and began to learn how to fight and defend for herself, carrying on the memories of her friends and at least trying to keep their philosophies in her mind at all times. Trying to solve conflict peacefully and being the voice of reason.. more often than not her actions speak louder than words.

Habits: Practicing day and night to get better, staying up to late on patrol leading to exhaustion and lack of self care.

Strengths: Multiple Points of view, she can look at everyone's side before making a decision. Quick thinking, Fast movements and mental capacity. Brains and Brawns.

Equipment: Double swords, Magik carries two swords with her at all time and has found armor from an old medieval museum in her travels. Using gaws as a protectant against minor cuts. She also carries a tattered backpack that has to be constantly patched up.

Other: She has bracelets made of all of her fallen friends clothings, Helping her remember her past and where she is from. Magik also adores animals of all kind and finds them hard to kill even for survival sometimes.

(My profile picture is also her.) Raku Raku
 
20170309_215900.jpg




Name:
Magik Flores (just call her Magik.)

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Personality: Blunt, Logical but not a wet blanket and certainly not emotionless. She is a loyal friend and will fight for what she thinks is right. May look innocent but will cut you down if you're in her path or have crossed a line she deems horrible. Mercy killing is more to her liking than senseless murder. Won't share her thoughts with a person unless they have known her for a while or has a connection with her somehow. the girl prefers close combat where she can nobly fight her foe.

Background: She fought with a previous small settlement a few of her friends attempted to found for the orphans and forgotten ones, the settlement having been a peaceful one it grew in popularity in local areas but was quickly overrun by a much larger ones. a massacre having taken place and scared her mind forever after watching her friends be dishonorably killed in a battle. After the fact she survived barely and began to learn how to fight and defend for herself, carrying on the memories of her friends and at least trying to keep their philosophies in her mind at all times. Trying to solve conflict peacefully and being the voice of reason.. more often than not her actions speak louder than words.

Habits: Practicing day and night to get better, staying up to late on patrol leading to exhaustion and lack of self care.

Strengths: Multiple Points of view, she can look at everyone's side before making a decision. Quick thinking, Fast movements and mental capacity. Brains and Brawns.

Equipment: Double swords, Magik carries two swords with her at all time and has found armor from an old medieval museum in her travels. Using gaws as a protectant against minor cuts. She also carries a tattered backpack that has to be constantly patched up.

Other: She has bracelets made of all of her fallen friends clothings, Helping her remember her past and where she is from. Magik also adores animals of all kind and finds them hard to kill even for survival sometimes.

(My profile picture is also her.) Raku Raku

Accepted!
 

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