Post by Zelus on Dec 8, 2013 16:59:18 GMT -5
Character Name: Gerald Moore
Nickname(s): Old Man Moore
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 61
Birthplace: Just outside of Hub
Height: 1m 92cm
Weight: 82kg
Eye Colour: grey
Hair Style: Bald on the top, although he has a full white beard.
Skin Colour: tanned Caucasian.
Build: average build
Distinguishing Features: He’s mighty old for an average caravan leader
Profession: Caravan leader
Skills: Survival, firearms, Subterfuge
Training: General weapons (your average rifle, pistol, shotgun), He’s a decent shot, scouting
Other Abilities: cooking, story telling
Apparel: Caravaneer outfit
Weaponry: Cowboy repeater, 10mm pistol
Other Equipment: I-15 cloth map (made by himself), caravan rations, water,
Affiliation: Crimson Caravan, NCR
Religious Belief: Non-practising Christian
Sexual Preference: heterosexual
Relationship Status: Widowed
Karma: Good
Personality: Gerald is an optimist; he likes to see the good things in life. He likes to cheer people up and tries his best to do so, whenever he’s with people along the Long 15. He is a liar, and somewhat of a scoundrel, has been all his life, but that’s part of his charm. He’s hardy and strong willed, able to cope through dangerous situations without so much as a care in the world. He likes fantastical stories, and has been known to spread them about himself. He likes exaggeration and openly encourages it. He likes stories of heroes, and that’s what he’s always tried to be… even if he’s just downright lied about it. He knows he’s a fraud in that respect, but he doesn’t care.
To Gerald, I-15 is his life. The long road has been a constant, unchanging but dangerous comfort to him in his life as a caravaneer. Over his long lifetime he has done nothing but travel up and down the road, and knows it as well as his own reflection. Back in his youth, he was just a rookie. He had a habit of getting into dangerous situations and then making himself look like a hero. He was a good shot, but he was never that good. He wasn’t a hero; he was an average Joe with a wild imagination, and to make things believable. As a result, he has many a tall tale. He claims once to have killed a death claw with a single bullet to the eye. His tales have become something of a joke in the wasteland of I15, which often warms the hearts of the NCR troopers who come across him. Some believe him, some don’t. All get a good laugh either way. The officers, smart enough to see through the tales, keep the guy around and talkative. After all, he was good for morale.
Despite his mile-tall tales, he was a good worker, and he moved from a caravan guard, to a caravan leader during his thirties. He began leading his large caravan down the Long 15, following the three NCR battalions, sent to pacify the Mojave wasteland. Over time his tall tales died down in the seriousness of war, although every now and then he’d tell a tale to a disheartened soldier. Sometime around this point, he got himself a wife and a bunch of kids. Eventually his wife died, and his kids left and got their own lives. He wasn’t ever around much, so they weren’t close. He loved his wife though and remembers her fondly, he wishes he could say the same about his kids, but he can’t, and he’s not one to dwell on that fact. Eventually the tribal groups were killed, and the Mojave Outpost was set up. It cut his caravan route down by twenty miles, but once the Crimson Caravan was set up in the Mojave, Gerald would often choose to head over and check on the progress of his people. Over time he got a lot of friends in the NCR from doing that, and as such, many of the soldiers stationed in Baker Town and beyond watch out for Gerald, even today, now calling him by his affectionate nickname of “Old Man Moore”.
The nickname came roughly around the time that Gerald turned 56. At first it was a sort of mock name, given to an aging caravan leader. Eventually it became an affectionate name when Gerald refused to retire. He continued to support the troops of the NCR with his fabled stories from his youth.
