Richter

Character Name:Richter

Nickname(s):None

Race:Human

Sex:Male

Age:30 (20th November 2253)

Birthplace:Shady Sands



Height:6"2"

Weight:195lbs

Eye Color:Green

Hair Color:Dark Brown

Hair Style:Shaggy, shoulder length

Facial Hair:Clean shaven

Skin Color:Tanned

Build:Thick-set

Distinguishing Features:Large scarring on stomach



Profession:Underprivaleged Gentleman

Skills: Guns, Melee-weapons, Hand-to-hand

Training:Standard NCR training

Other Abilities:Intimidation

Apparel:Grubby white vest, torn black leather jacket, filthy pre-war dark green combat trousers, cracked old boots

Weaponry:Caravan Shotgun, butterfly knife

Other Equipment:Cigarettes, old zippo lighter



Affiliation:L.U.G.

Religious Belief:Atheist

Sexual Preference:Straight

Relationship Status:Shares a room with Bloody Rosa

Personality:Quiet, loyal, has no morals



Richter was born in the NCR capital to a poor household. His father left when he was very young, and his mother turned to drink and abuseing Richter. Richter learned to avoid his home as much as possible. When his real family became to much to bare, he made his own family. He joined a gang, and turned to petty crime and thuggery. He gained a natural ability to scare people into giving him what he wanted. And if it ever failed, his knack for violence always finished the job.

As Richter got older, his crimes and bravado grew. He went from shop-lifting bubblegum to breaking the shop-owners arms to rob the cash register. He killed his first man at 14, when he broke a police man's neck from behind. His utter lack of attempting to hide the body led him to be captured within a day of it occurring. Since he was only a child, the judge was unhappy to send him to prison. He was sentenced to life in the NCR military, and was given extra training until he was officially allowed to enlist at 16.

The judge hoped that years of strict drills and taking orders would put out the rebellious fire in Richter's heart. For years, it seemed to work. When the NCR marched it's mighty forces into the Mojave, Richter went with them, now promoted to a staff sergeant. Richter acted with perfect precision and discipline until his first week of leave. He and his squad were walking to the Strip through Freeside, when Richter suddenly turned on them, killing them all with a butterfly knife he was able to acquire. This time, he was smart enough to move and hide the bodies. He sold his old uniform and Mick 'n Ralphs, and bought some regular clothes, then dissipated into Freeside's sprawling back-alleys. Luckily, none of his squad-mates' bodies were found, and the NCR concluded the squad was victim to a random attack, and were all dead. Including Richter.

He spent several years living in Freeside, mostly just going back to his old life, doing whatever he wanted, and punching anyone that got in the way. One day, he was prowling the sewers under Freeside, looking for some booze he could steal, when he heard a man's voice raised in fervent vigor, in an accent that he did not recognize. Curious, Richter went to investigate, curious.

What he found was a man in a tatty tuxedo and battered top hat, waving a dress cane around like a sword and talking to this crowd of excited hobo's with a look of righteous anger on his face. He spoke of a great revolution, of overthrowing the oppressors that had crushed them for so long. (Later on, The Gent admitted to Richter that the whole 'revolution' thing was bullshit he had made up, the whole thing was a power-grab attempt, nothing so complicated). Richter listened to the man talk, and boy could the man talk. He wove a tail of the mighty rebellion he would lead. He would lead you through, step by step how they would do it without actually revealing any form of plan what-soever. Richter was a cynical man by heart, but the idea of being incredibly rich, living in a penthouse suite in a casino appealed to Richter, so he hung around.

After a while, a old man, red eyed and obviously mad, crawled out of a manky old cardboard-box, muttering about the "damn commie racket". From nowhere, he pulled out a shotgun and aimed it shakily at The Gent's back. Richter decided to intervene, for something to do more than anything. He darted forwards and broke the old man's jaw in one swift punch. The Gent took this into his stride, naming Richter a Champion of the People. The People themselves soaked it all in, believed every word that came out of The Gent's lips. Richter realized that these poor bastards were so miserable and desperate, they were seriously ready to risk their lives for one man. A man that was Richter's key to riches. A man Richter intended to keep alive. Richter kept the old man's shotgun, and joined The Gent's so called 'League'. When he found out is was all a bluff to get the Hobo's to do what he said, he found himself seriously liking the Gent.

Richter worked as The Gent's bodyguard for several years, and continues to do so. Although his rooms within The League's artfully hidden HQ weren't exactly the best crib in town, but it suited him until the real shit started