Vic Butch (WIP)

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Character Name: Vic Butch

Nickname(s): 'The Butcher'

Race: Latino-Polynesian

Sex: Male

Age: 42

Birthplace: The Pitt



Height: 6'3" / 1.9m 

Weight: 89.8kg / 198 lbs

Eye Color: Pale Blue

Hair Color: Dark Umber

Hair Style: Short Ponytail

Facial Hair: Overgrown Goatee 

Skin Color: Golden (Numerous radiation and flash burns)

Build: Endomorph

Distinguishing Features: Multiple old scars and burns, near-blind eyes, broken nose, noticeably wrinkles and bags under his eyes, muscular yet slightly malnourished, dirty and worn out skin, scratchy and hoarse voice



Profession: Gunner Commander

Skills: Equally skilled in hand-to-hand and firearms, but most extensively knowledgable and capable of survival. 

Training: A self-taught individual, Vic has experienced almost a full life of savagery and survival, forced to get by on rotting meat, Cram, blood and mud, just horrid and disgusting things. He killed his first man at the age of thirteen, and since then spent his time learning the best ways to do that again. Raised by degenerates and monsters, he knows the best ways to survive if need be, and during his time in the city ruins learnt to climb with noticeable efficiency, making him resemble a pre-war parkour artist. Due to suffering at the hands of it, and outputting it over time, he's become a master of torture techniques, unlike anyone he's ever met.

Other Abilities: Vic is a rather noticeable savant (specifically he actually has savant syndrome) and has a keen, almost uncanny memory. He can recall raiders he's seen once in over three years, recognise voices of his soldiers in the dark without any issue, and has been known to even recognise mutants, of all things. Beyond that he is also a keen associate of creatures, able to appease them and earn their trust with little to no true issue. 

Apparel: Gunner Leathers, Metal Chest, Raider Arms, Lieutenant's Hat (Unequipped)

Weaponry: Brass Knuckles, Poisoner's .32 Pistol, Machete, Hunting Rifle (.38 Receiver, Long Barrel, Full Stock, Standard Magazine, Bayonet)

Other Equipment:
    Military Ammo Bag: x 24 .32 Caliber Rounds, x18 .38 Rounds
    Doctors Bag: x3 Jet, x2 Psycho, x3 Strange Meat, x2 Med-X
    Duffle Bag: Duct Tape, Tweezers, Human Jaw, Rat Poison, Cooking Oil, Clothing Iron, Flip Lighter, Handcuffs, Tongs, Ball-Peen Hammer



Affiliation: Gunners

Religious Belief: N/A

Sexual Preference: Pansexual

Relationship Status: Single

Personality: A reprobate first, a raider second, a Gunner third, Vic is a cruel and despicable person who will put anyones life in danger if it means guarding his own life - though that doesn't mean he doesn't fight to no end. He's a murderer, a socio and psychopath, someone who doesn't comprehend the importance of others or of doing what is just. He only understands survival and power, and in the eyes of the ill and the depraved he is someone to revere. No qualms are held for any, civilian and soldier alike, he will kill and degrade them if he feels it is right. Mentally a broken and scarred individual, it is hard to tell if Vic has managed to ascend the ranks in the Gunners due to immense tactical planning or if it is out of sheer dumb brutality, proving himself capable unlike most any other. With few goals beyond surviving, things tend to just fall into success for him.

Vic does have a few key traits though, that set him apart from the average lunatic or cryptic murderer. An in-depth memory have forged a unique and comprehensive set of hyper sanity, a realisation that morals are a useless and outdated matter in this world of post-apocalyptic chaos and horror. He suffers no regret or hesitation for his choices, safe in the certainty that everything he does is justified, because nothing else is. When he was made aware of his position within the Gunners, he barely paid it any attention; he does not work in their interests, and merely knows they provide him a physical and fundamental security, especially in the ruins of the Commonwealth, where chaos and order are forever stuck in a tug of war. 


The Pitt proved the perfect place for someone like Vic to develop. In a building that had once been the PPG Place complex, not far from the Steelyard regulated by Ashur and his forces, Vic was born to a pair of Wildmen. He had known his mother only briefly, before his father had crushed in her skull and devoured her, feeding part of her to his son to keep him alive. At the age of ten, Vic had lost contact with his father, and had taken up residence in the Steelyard, among many other Wildmen, and the trogs that inhabited the ruins of Pittsburgh. He'd found a host of Wildmen who didn't mind his presence so long as he cared for himself, and picking off the scraps of his dead kin proved the most effective. By the age of thirteen he had a hunting rifle, ammunition, and finally was able to fight for himself, killing a Wildman who came down at him for food. At this point, Vic changed from a starved and needy youth to someone far more mighty; a fighter.

In the years that came by, Vic distinguished himself among the mentally unstable, the physically disheveled, the Wildmen. Though equally as aggressive and deranged, he was more composed in his ways; more often than not Pitt slaves would wander into the Steelyard, and Vic would be able to coax them into safe areas where could take advantage of their naivety. This is considered unique among the Wildmen, and it is safe to propose that Vic himself suffers perhaps less neurological damage than his kin folk, and is more capable of reasoning and general cognitive functions. Still as savage as the rest, he is able to turn situations in his favour, to ensure his savagery is successful. He would often spend time in the Steelyard, climbing onto the roof of the supply plant to watch as slaves or trogs wandered into the vision of the Wildmen, only to be put down within seconds, but ending up in places far too hard for the Wildmen to reach, providing Vic with ample opportunity to plunder the dead. 

By the time he was nineteen, Vic had managed to scrape by a noticeable hoard, with enough chems and ammo to keep himself safe in most situations. The Wildmen still saw him as one of them, despite his latent higher functioning, and he was more than capable of dealing with the trogs that often found their way into his lair atop the supply plant. Vic had no intention of remaining in the Pitt; as time went on, and more and more slaves wandered into the Steelyard, he became increasingly aware he could leave. Just as he had entered the Steelyard, he would make his leave, setting up all his important belongings in bags before clambering through the trog infested hell that was Pittsburgh. Before long the ruins became empty, and he was marching through the remnants of the Scourge, where charred bones and ruined homes could be seen all around. He was away from the Pitt, but he was now in the Wasteland, and he wasn't sure what was more unsettling. 

The journey wasn't one he'd expected to be easy. He wanted to find a safe place, where he could settle down. The Wasteland wasn't full of safe places. Raiders and fiends made up the majority of the inhabitants, with very rare settlements dotted through the land, and even fewer not hostile. He was too young and too foolhardy to do well out there, and in the middle of the night he was tied up and taken away, to a place he still doesn't remember. He was tied down, tortured, ridiculed, assaulted physically and sexually, and left to rot and die. Due to a mixture of physical ability and shitty leather restraints, Vic was able to break out, and after taking the numerous torture devices available to him, proceeded to cut a bloody swathe out of the ramshackle facility. Taking much of the weapons, food and armour on those he'd cut down, he was able to use new weapons to finally break free of the raider shack, fleeing into the Wasteland yet again. 

For years on end, Vic wandered the violent pestilence of the Wasteland. Sometimes he was the prey, sometimes he was the predator, but all times he came out with new scars and new experiences. Over time the young rebellious man who had fled from the Pitt, the man who was as violent as he was confused, was glossed over. A new man stood in his place, one with empty eyes, a dark mind, a history of horrors most couldn't conceive but the memory to reenact them on a whim. Vic Butch became a beast, who wandered wherever he could. By the age of twenty-five, he was already a grizzled, scarred, wasted husk of a man. On the horizon, on what would have been his twenty-sixth birthday (had he even known of it), he was able to witness from a great distance away a nuclear detonation. He had no clue what had caused it or why, all he knew was that it was there. The effects of it would not be something he'd ever truly notice, but it did hamper his long-range eyesight, and a permanent red burn would be layered over his leathery, lesioned face. 

At the age of twenty-eight, Vic had found his way into a distant place. He had wandered the Wasteland for near on nine years, through pools of radiation and great storms of dust and sand. He had weathered the wrath of all manner of feral beasts, but not all had been slain by him. He was no martyr nor hero, he was a survivor. In 2276, his survival had led him to the Commonwealth. His wanderings through the torn landscape led him into the ruins of the city of Boston, where he fought raiders on a daily basis. In time, he would come to trade and seek refuge near an old hospital. In time, his work alongside the inhabitants, who needed to repel nearby mutant attacks, would lead Vic to being ushered in with the faction known as the Gunners. Initial hostilities were overcome when Vic was made aware of the safety the faction provided, inhabiting multiple Vaults within the Commonwealth, and operating as a major and distinct power in the region. For years, Vic worked amongst them, and his violent aptitude and immense bloodlust earned him a noticeable reputation. Soon, the Butcher became a common name among the Gunners. 

By the time he was thirty-five, Vic was a Commander within the ranks of the Gunners, and was given authority to do as he pleased. Though he often kept a tight-knit squad with him, there were many occasions when he would go off alone, utilising his corrupted mind and antics to blend in with the more stable raiders of Boston, such as those within the Combat Zone or the multiple betting grounds that dotted the under passages of the ruins. The Coast Guard Pier had become fairly well-known as a base of operations for Vic and his 'gang' of Gunners, who are each noted for their dodgy, less-than-honourable backgrounds. Vic often clashes with resident mutants and nearby Minutemen, and has plans to handle both - though most especially the militia hat wearing fools who think themselves superior, just coz they wear fancier duds than everyone else.