Post by Slinky on Nov 24, 2011 12:32:01 GMT -6
NAME: Riley O'Neil.
ALIAS(ES): Snaggletooth, 07864.
AGE: 44.
SEX: Male.
SPECIES: Mutant.
KARMA: Neutral.
FRACTIONAL AFFILIATION: Whoever pays the most but it's argueable that he's invested in the good health of the Crimson Caravan and Mojave Express.
OCCUPATION: Gun-for-hire but he's versatile, has been known to service as a Courier when work cannot be found.
APPEARANCE
Some Exceptions
6 ft 2 in.
He's missing his tail and left trigger finger. Completely.
Heavily scarred. [I'll get a scar meme going soon]
Barcode tattooed onto the underside of his left wrist, reading 07864. Slightly faded.
Most prominent scar being the slash from a Deathclaw across his face. It was only a grazing blow so he kept his eyes.
Wears a variant of the Merc adventurer outfit.
PERSONALITY
For the most part, Riley is a nice guy. He'll only be kind if he's shown the same and can turn downright mean in the wrong setting. While his attitude doesn't always show it, he's a caring person at heart and will viscously stands up for the down trodden of the Wastes. All people are equal unless they're pretentious bastard who lie, steal, rape, and cheat; the only cure for that is a bullet to the head.
However, he isn't completely ruthless as he likes to put on, knowing that a bounty hunter who doesn't seem like a booze guzzling badass won't go long without a mark being put on their head. He never forgets that it's just an act- that hasn't stopped a crippling alchohol addiction from developing- and will, in private, be more relaxed and open where as in public he's likely to be the guy to egg on a bar fight. What's a few slashes to the face over a 600 bottle cap bounty on him?
HISTORY
According to the man himself, there isn't much to tell. He claims to have been born in a vault sloppily sealed by scared wastelanders that was exposed to to much radiation, explaining the reptilian components of his body. Once he grew old enough to grow unsettled by the cramped quarters and use a gun, he left the vault and never looked back. That is the short, heavily modified story he will pander to those who ask and he will be hard pressed to go into any detail whether it be about his relatives or the vault's location.
Bit of pieces of his tall tale are true. He was indeed born in a vault and did indeed leave it later on in his life. Riley fails to mention that he was grown, not born by scientist descended from Pre-War government scientist. He does not note that he was one of many born and one of few that survived to maturity and the only one whose DNA did not destabilize in the following months. He was the pride and joy on his creators-- and he hated the attention, finding comfort in his informal weapons training for the Pre-War super-soldier program that never got enough funding to get off the ground before the bombs fell.
As Riley turned 20, he began to grow frustrated with the confines of the Vault, his request to see the surface denied or rebutted by claims that it was too dangerous and radioactive for exploration. This did not deter him. Having spent so long exploring the inhabitable sections of the Vault, he finally unearthed an emergency exit that with a little juice from the main system and some hurried coaxing, opened. Filled with the rush of freedom, he did not bother to memorize the cave to which the exit lead out of, setting out for the distant glitter of lights on the horizon in the night.
It did not take Riley long to discover the hostility of the Mojave. His second night out he was ambushed in his sleep by a lone Radier who removed the majority of his tail in a single swipe. He nearly died from it after putting a bullet through the man's head and it took him weeks to find a doctor who would properly amputate the remainder of his tail to stop a gangrene infection from spreading.
At this point, he desperately tried to find his way home but the Vault was forever lost to the rolling sands of the Mojave; there was nothing else he could do but keep heading for the lights that he had learned to call New Vegas.
WEAPONS
Sniper Rifle
M&A 9mm pistol
Kukri
SPECIAL STATS
STR — 6
PER — 8
END — 10
CHA — 3
INT — 5
AGI — 5
LUC — 3
TAG SKILLS
Survival — Proficiency at cooking and surviving in the wastes.
Repair — Proficiency at repairing items and crafting items and ammunition.
Melee Weapons — Proficiency at using melee weapons.
REPUTATION
Freeside — Mixed.
NCR — Mixed.
The Strip — Mixed.
Crimson Caravan — Accepted.
Mojave Express — Idolized.
WRITING SAMPLE
ALIAS(ES): Snaggletooth, 07864.
AGE: 44.
SEX: Male.
SPECIES: Mutant.
KARMA: Neutral.
FRACTIONAL AFFILIATION: Whoever pays the most but it's argueable that he's invested in the good health of the Crimson Caravan and Mojave Express.
OCCUPATION: Gun-for-hire but he's versatile, has been known to service as a Courier when work cannot be found.
APPEARANCE
Some Exceptions
6 ft 2 in.
He's missing his tail and left trigger finger. Completely.
Heavily scarred. [I'll get a scar meme going soon]
Barcode tattooed onto the underside of his left wrist, reading 07864. Slightly faded.
Most prominent scar being the slash from a Deathclaw across his face. It was only a grazing blow so he kept his eyes.
Wears a variant of the Merc adventurer outfit.
PERSONALITY
For the most part, Riley is a nice guy. He'll only be kind if he's shown the same and can turn downright mean in the wrong setting. While his attitude doesn't always show it, he's a caring person at heart and will viscously stands up for the down trodden of the Wastes. All people are equal unless they're pretentious bastard who lie, steal, rape, and cheat; the only cure for that is a bullet to the head.
However, he isn't completely ruthless as he likes to put on, knowing that a bounty hunter who doesn't seem like a booze guzzling badass won't go long without a mark being put on their head. He never forgets that it's just an act- that hasn't stopped a crippling alchohol addiction from developing- and will, in private, be more relaxed and open where as in public he's likely to be the guy to egg on a bar fight. What's a few slashes to the face over a 600 bottle cap bounty on him?
HISTORY
According to the man himself, there isn't much to tell. He claims to have been born in a vault sloppily sealed by scared wastelanders that was exposed to to much radiation, explaining the reptilian components of his body. Once he grew old enough to grow unsettled by the cramped quarters and use a gun, he left the vault and never looked back. That is the short, heavily modified story he will pander to those who ask and he will be hard pressed to go into any detail whether it be about his relatives or the vault's location.
Bit of pieces of his tall tale are true. He was indeed born in a vault and did indeed leave it later on in his life. Riley fails to mention that he was grown, not born by scientist descended from Pre-War government scientist. He does not note that he was one of many born and one of few that survived to maturity and the only one whose DNA did not destabilize in the following months. He was the pride and joy on his creators-- and he hated the attention, finding comfort in his informal weapons training for the Pre-War super-soldier program that never got enough funding to get off the ground before the bombs fell.
As Riley turned 20, he began to grow frustrated with the confines of the Vault, his request to see the surface denied or rebutted by claims that it was too dangerous and radioactive for exploration. This did not deter him. Having spent so long exploring the inhabitable sections of the Vault, he finally unearthed an emergency exit that with a little juice from the main system and some hurried coaxing, opened. Filled with the rush of freedom, he did not bother to memorize the cave to which the exit lead out of, setting out for the distant glitter of lights on the horizon in the night.
It did not take Riley long to discover the hostility of the Mojave. His second night out he was ambushed in his sleep by a lone Radier who removed the majority of his tail in a single swipe. He nearly died from it after putting a bullet through the man's head and it took him weeks to find a doctor who would properly amputate the remainder of his tail to stop a gangrene infection from spreading.
At this point, he desperately tried to find his way home but the Vault was forever lost to the rolling sands of the Mojave; there was nothing else he could do but keep heading for the lights that he had learned to call New Vegas.
WEAPONS
Sniper Rifle
M&A 9mm pistol
Kukri
SPECIAL STATS
STR — 6
PER — 8
END — 10
CHA — 3
INT — 5
AGI — 5
LUC — 3
TAG SKILLS
Survival — Proficiency at cooking and surviving in the wastes.
Repair — Proficiency at repairing items and crafting items and ammunition.
Melee Weapons — Proficiency at using melee weapons.
REPUTATION
Freeside — Mixed.
NCR — Mixed.
The Strip — Mixed.
Crimson Caravan — Accepted.
Mojave Express — Idolized.
WRITING SAMPLE
The Mojave was hot and unforgiving as per usual with crows circling in the distance, their caws eerie among silence. The silence shouldn't have been there nor should the mole rats and geckos be hiding in their dens, watching the stooped over figure rifle through the carcass of a very unfortunate Ghoul who just so happened to be a criminal with a very high price on his head. Her head. It was hard to tell with Ghoul, with their disfigured bodies twisted by radiation. It wouldn't have made a difference to him. A shot to the head was just punishment for high crimes; if the client wanted the kill delivered dead.
What happened to criminals he took alive back to clients was none of his business. The cracking of bone sounded under his jaws and he pulled away, wiping away blood, the head neatly decapitated from the body. Bringing them dead was easier, made sure he had control over insuring payment was given. Usually, watching the client's demeanor gave him an inkling to how the transfer of cash would go off and this case seemed as if it would be easy.