Post by Courier on Apr 16, 2016 23:26:53 GMT -5
Character Name: No-Name.
Nickname(s): Various names, often made up on the spot, although he uses "No-Name" for business and as his ring name.
Race: Human.
Sex: Male.
Age: 26.
Birthplace: New Reno.
Height: 6'1.
Weight: 190lbs.
Eye Color: Green.
Hair Color: Dark brown.
Hair Style: Close shaved.
Facial Hair: A goatee around his mouth.
Skin Color: Dark, but still white.
Build: A boxer's physique.
Distinguishing Features: A boxer's nose, having been broken many times.
Profession: Mercenary.
Skills and Abilities: A fist of steel and an intimidating posture. Prefers big guns over small ones.
Apparel: Sturdy leather armor, studded.
Weaponry: Spiked knuckles, 25mm grenade launcher. Usually carries a 9mm pistol as a sidearm.
Other Possessions: He usually carries one or two grenades for his launcher. Prefers healing powder to stimpaks, but takes what he can get.
Affiliation: Himself.
Residence: Stays in various hotels across California and the Mojave Wasteland.
Religious Belief: Not much of a concern to him.
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual.
Companions: N/A
Personality: Usually stoic and straight to the point.
A bastard child of an illegitimate son. His mother, who he believes to most likely have been a New Reno whore, died during child birth. No-Name, as he came to call himself, never had a father figure growing up in the streets of New Reno. Because of this, he quickly learned to fend for himself, often unarmed. Turns out, No-Name was really good at punching people.
At around 17, he became a bouncer for the Shark Club Casino, the closest he ever got to meeting his biological father. However, his bouncer gig didn't last too long, as he was drawn towards the Jungle Gym, just down the street from him. After spending some time in the gym and, eventually, proving himself in the ring, boxing became a second nature to him.
However, his boxing career lasted less than a year. He was introduced to Buffout by a drug-dealer posing as a regular gym rat (who oddly never lifted any weights). The steroid chem assisted him in a few matches, although eventually he had obviously become addicted to it. Between spending all of his prizefighting money on Buffout, and overall becoming more and more sloppy in the ring, he was kicked out of the Jungle Gym and shunned by the New Reno boxing community.
Confused, broke and becoming weaker by the day, No-Name began wandering.
At around age 20, doing odd jobs to support his addiction, he came across a caravan master, although it wasn't an ordinary caravan. It was more like a travelling freakshow. Of course, with the amount of freaks in the post apocalyptic world, the caravan was short-lived.
His caravan-guard days came to an end, though, as the caravan was hit fast and hard by a well-armed group of raiders a few miles away from the Mojave Outpost. A missile, a few plasma grenades and some well-aimed sniper shots were enough to put an end to the travelling freakshow. The raiders left after scrounging the wreck of the caravan, leaving No-Name near dead, surrounded by the bodies of his friends.
Two days after the attack, he was found by a group of Followers coming from California to New Vegas. They did what they could to keep the only survivor of the attack alive. After putting him on a stretcher constrained to a pack brahmin, they brought him with them to the Old Mormon Fort.
Although he was eager to leave the fort and exact his revenge on the raiders, he was convinced to stay until he was healed, and insisted that they help clean him up after he was showing obvious Buffout withdrawal symptoms.
No-Name never did get revenge on the raiders, as finding a few members of a single group was like looking for a piece of hay in a haystack of haystacks.
The next six years of his life he spent doing freelance mercenary work, and he proved to be dependable. He often traveled around the Mojave and New California, doing jobs for whoever paid. He never made the mistake of getting hooked on Buffout again.
Changelog - Make a few words non-bold. Removed all references to juggling deathclaws and raccoon barbershop bands.
