Vladimir Abrahm

Character Name: Vladimir Abrahm



Nickname(s): John White, various other generic aliases. 


Race: Ghoul



Sex: Male



Age: 239 Years



Birthplace: Moscow







Height: 5'10



Weight: 135ish



Eye Color: Black



Hair Color: N/A



Hair Style: N/A



Facial Hair: N/A



Skin Color: Various different shades of decomposition



Build: Was athletic, now decrepit.



Distinguishing Features: Other than normal ghoulish characteristics, none.







Profession: Spy(formerly), Wanderer(currently)



Skills: Firearms, Subterfuge, Survival



Training: Extensive training in the use and maintenance of firearms, stealth, information/item retrieval(Whether through extortion, theivery, hacking, etc), Was also trained in hand-to-hand combat and explosives, but both skills have atrophied considerably since the Great War.



Other Abilities: Gathering and remembering information, cooking, speaks multiple languages(Though is quite rusty), identifying and operating long distance communications machinery.



Apparel: Pre-War Business Attire, Leather Armor



Weaponry: Hunting Rifle, Silenced .22 Pistol



Other Equipment: 3" Serrated Knife(Used for cutting rope/leather/meat, not combat), a couple flasks of Vodka, a few well-done Gecko Steaks, a couple of stimpascks and a bag to carry it all in(along with whatever else he might pick up).







Affiliation: U.S.S.R(Formerly), None(Currently)



Religious Belief: None



Sexual Preference: Heterosexual



Relationship Status: Single



Personality:

Vladimir was taught from an early age that information is the most powerful weapon a man can wield, and as such often tells lies or half-truths to hide who he is or what he is doing. Curiosity is at times his greatest strength, others his greatest weakness. As such he’ll go out of his way to learn valuable information, even if it’ll get him in trouble. Over time he developed an increasingly sarcastic and nihilistic outlook on life in the wasteland. As far as he’s concerned Smoothskins are bigots, Mutants are bred to be too aggressive and stupid and Ghouls are an infertile dying breed. Any hope for a ‘Better Society’ was lost in the Cold War, before the bombs dropped.







Vladimir was born to a poor butcher and his wife in the slums of Moscow. Malnourished, poorly educated and lacking resources there were little opportunities for employment aside from following his father’s career or joining the Red Mafia. After much deliberation Vladimir almost joined the Red Mafia, but decided that a career in the military would offer better resources, an honest day’s wage, and an opportunity to finally leave the slums he’d wallowed in all his life.



Early enlistment training was hell, but in it Vladimir saw an opportunity to advance, to impress, and in him his superiors found a man of average height, uncommon cunning and deceptive athleticism. As a result he was moved from common infantry to be trained as a spy. For the next few years he was trained in stealth, lockpicking, hacking, and the use of traditional firearms(rather than more conspicuous energy weapons). Though U.S.S.R. relations with the United States were friendly enough that the U.S.S.R. had an embassy in the U.S. there was a still a growing fear of the US’s increasing expansionist ways with the Annexation of Canada. In the end Vladimir was given two commands and his first assignment. One, to monitor the progress of the US Government at it’s core, and two, to obtain any and all information on Powered Armor, what many believed to be the deciding factor in the battles on the Alaskan front between America and China.



Vladimir arrived in America in 2076, shortly before martial law was declared in America. With riots in the streets causing stress all around Vladimir’s job was more dangerous than he could have imagined, yet he kept true to his training and somehow kept his head down while doing his job. Bits and pieces of reports and schematics on the T-45d were sent to Russia, while Vladimir even managed to find a report on some sort of biological weapon. The tech was above his head, but he relayed in the information anyways. No man’s perfect however, and in a few months Vladimir was caught, and on the run. By October 23rd 2077 Vladimir had ran long and far enough to escape the blast at DC. Through firepower and wits he managed to threaten his way into a private bombshelter before the blasts hit, but the shelter didn’t have the quality or resources of a Vault. The family Vladimir had imposed his will on all died due to radiation, but Vladimir, blessed or cursed by fate, managed to cling to life, though not without cost.

Overtime hair left him, muscle degraded, skin decayed and his wonderful singing voice was replaced with a throaty rasp. After a few years the private shelter’s food supply ran out and Vladimir was forced to leave in search of food. For a long while Vladimir traveled the Great Wasteland of America in lonesome, living off of the meat of whatever animal he could find and kill, along with whatever water he could store, staying sane by making games of his hunts, practicing his Russian and English, and filling the crosswords and sudokus of every old newspaper he managed to get his hands on.



Eventually normal humans began popping out of Vaults and the Wasteland was slowly filled with things that Vladimir didn’t want to shoot at. An economy of bottle caps eventually emerged, along with a much needed inflow of ammunition, weapons, and craftsmanship. Though Vladimir was greatful for the company and tools he soon found that living in isolation had not fostered a tolerant batch of humans. Shunned by the smoothskins Vladimir continued his travels alone, occasionally killing a small group of raiders or trading with some merchants to obtain some ammo but otherwise keeping distant from humanity.



As time went on Vladimir continued to wander, living off the land and trying to connect to what Ghoul communities he could find, but always found himself disconnected with the rest of the world. After much though and inner debate he finally reasoned why he’d never found a home amongst the new world. Humanity was a scattered nation of Vault Dwellers and their children, often devolving into tribal or criminal gangs. Ghouls on the other hand were remnants of the Old World like he, but they was still something they were that he wasn’t.



American.



Vladimir was an old man, a Ghoul, but his true issues stemmed from being an alien on American soil. He then decided that he would head West, towards California, before heading up through Oregon and Washington towards Canada, then towards Alaska. From there he’d hopefully find a boat or plane in working order and attempt to cross the Bering Sea. He knew the journey would be long, arduous, the chances of finding a vehicle improbable at best, but with no sense of when a Ghoul died of age, or worse, turned Feral, he decided that he must at least try.