Post by Tiberius on Jul 31, 2009 20:09:33 GMT -5
Name: William Tiberius
Nicknames: Tiberius
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Height: 5''8
Weight: 9 stone
Affiliation: Wastelander
----------------------------------------
Appearance.
Appearance: Tiberius wears a dusty variant of the common trader attire. Under his heavy coat he wears pre-war clothes business clothes. A white shirt, a red tie, black trousers and black shoes. His coat is also equipped with a large hood, which he keeps up most of the time. His face is also covered over by a gas-mask, which he rarely removes. Over his hands he wears light, leather strapped gloves. He also wears a light rucksack that he uses to carry his basics.
Under his clothing, Tiberius has a somewhat pale complexion. He has a thin, black goatee, and scruffy black hair.
----------------------------------------
Personality: Although his appearance can be quite intimidating, Tiberius can be quite a kind person. Although he will sometimes go out of his way to aide those who need it, he does believe in survival of the fittest. He has somewhat of a neutral alignment when it comes to his actions in the wasteland. As aforementioned, he will help those who need it, however, if a situation arises that he may exploit his skills for personal gain; he will.
Tiberius dislikes using guns, although he is able to handle one enough to survive. Rather than using guns, he prefers unarmed and melee combat. Despite his heavy attire, Tiberius is able to move quite swiftly, a feat he uses to his advantage in a fight.
Another trait that Tiberius keeps to himself, is that he is a cannibal. He will occasionally feast upon the flesh of somebody who is deceased, as long as nobody is around to see it. He sees this addiction as a curse. If he goes too long without devouring human flesh, he will become constantly paranoid, jumpy and violent.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Likes:
Dislikes:
----------------------------------------
TAG! Skills: Sneak, Melee, Unarmed
S.P.E.C.I.A.L:
S- 1
P- 8
E- 2
C- 2
I- 10
A- 10
L- 7
----------------------------------------
History:
Tiberius was taken away by raiders at the age 5. His parents and family were killed in the raid that lead up to his capture. He remembers nothing of them. He only remembered the fear of waiting for the moment he would be sold to slavers. However, that day never came. He didn't understand why, but the raiders kept him, and trained him as one of their own. By the age of 17, he had killed many and earned a decent reputation within raider society. It was at this age that Tiberius decided to leave the raiders, those who had raised and trained him from a child. Although he knew what they had done to his family, he didn't care. That was the way of the world, and he had done it a hundred times to the innocent. In fact, he was grateful to the raiders. They had given him skills, and a life he never would have dreamed of.
Now, he wanders the wasteland with very little to his name. He survives by eating the flesh of anything he comes across, including humans. It was his insatiable hunger that first made him even think of feeding on a human, and this one was dead.. so what harm could it do? What harm? Only the addiction that came with it. The flesh was surprisingly tasty, more so than the irradiated mole rat, and brahim.
----------------------------------------
RP Example:
Tiberius exhaled a cloud of smoke from his lungs into the air. He flicked down his now-useless cigarette into the dirt. He placed his foot on top of it slowly, and grounded it into the crusty earth beneath him. He watched, staring into the horizon as the sun rose over the mountains in the distance. As the sun hit his face, he knew it was time to start another day. "Good Morning, Wasteland" he uttered, before reaching down and grasping his gas-mask. He raised it up slowly and equipped it to his face. He turned around to face the crumpled ruins of an old church, the place he had made his camp for the night. He stepped over rubble and made his way inside. He grabbed his light bag, and his combat knife that lay on the floor beside it. After throwing his bag over his shoulder, he fiddled with the knife for a brief few seconds.
He strolled back out of the church and began his new day.
Nicknames: Tiberius
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Height: 5''8
Weight: 9 stone
Affiliation: Wastelander
----------------------------------------
Appearance.
Appearance: Tiberius wears a dusty variant of the common trader attire. Under his heavy coat he wears pre-war clothes business clothes. A white shirt, a red tie, black trousers and black shoes. His coat is also equipped with a large hood, which he keeps up most of the time. His face is also covered over by a gas-mask, which he rarely removes. Over his hands he wears light, leather strapped gloves. He also wears a light rucksack that he uses to carry his basics.
Under his clothing, Tiberius has a somewhat pale complexion. He has a thin, black goatee, and scruffy black hair.
----------------------------------------
Personality: Although his appearance can be quite intimidating, Tiberius can be quite a kind person. Although he will sometimes go out of his way to aide those who need it, he does believe in survival of the fittest. He has somewhat of a neutral alignment when it comes to his actions in the wasteland. As aforementioned, he will help those who need it, however, if a situation arises that he may exploit his skills for personal gain; he will.
Tiberius dislikes using guns, although he is able to handle one enough to survive. Rather than using guns, he prefers unarmed and melee combat. Despite his heavy attire, Tiberius is able to move quite swiftly, a feat he uses to his advantage in a fight.
Another trait that Tiberius keeps to himself, is that he is a cannibal. He will occasionally feast upon the flesh of somebody who is deceased, as long as nobody is around to see it. He sees this addiction as a curse. If he goes too long without devouring human flesh, he will become constantly paranoid, jumpy and violent.
Strengths:
- Very Agile and Swift
- Adept in Martial Arts
- His appearance can be quite intimidating.
Weaknesses:
- Can't take much of a beating.
- Not physically strong.
Likes:
- Human Flesh
- The Wasteland
- The Night
- Raiders
Dislikes:
- Slavers
- Idiots
- Bigots
- Mole Rats
----------------------------------------
TAG! Skills: Sneak, Melee, Unarmed
S.P.E.C.I.A.L:
S- 1
P- 8
E- 2
C- 2
I- 10
A- 10
L- 7
----------------------------------------
History:
Tiberius was taken away by raiders at the age 5. His parents and family were killed in the raid that lead up to his capture. He remembers nothing of them. He only remembered the fear of waiting for the moment he would be sold to slavers. However, that day never came. He didn't understand why, but the raiders kept him, and trained him as one of their own. By the age of 17, he had killed many and earned a decent reputation within raider society. It was at this age that Tiberius decided to leave the raiders, those who had raised and trained him from a child. Although he knew what they had done to his family, he didn't care. That was the way of the world, and he had done it a hundred times to the innocent. In fact, he was grateful to the raiders. They had given him skills, and a life he never would have dreamed of.
Now, he wanders the wasteland with very little to his name. He survives by eating the flesh of anything he comes across, including humans. It was his insatiable hunger that first made him even think of feeding on a human, and this one was dead.. so what harm could it do? What harm? Only the addiction that came with it. The flesh was surprisingly tasty, more so than the irradiated mole rat, and brahim.
----------------------------------------
RP Example:
Tiberius exhaled a cloud of smoke from his lungs into the air. He flicked down his now-useless cigarette into the dirt. He placed his foot on top of it slowly, and grounded it into the crusty earth beneath him. He watched, staring into the horizon as the sun rose over the mountains in the distance. As the sun hit his face, he knew it was time to start another day. "Good Morning, Wasteland" he uttered, before reaching down and grasping his gas-mask. He raised it up slowly and equipped it to his face. He turned around to face the crumpled ruins of an old church, the place he had made his camp for the night. He stepped over rubble and made his way inside. He grabbed his light bag, and his combat knife that lay on the floor beside it. After throwing his bag over his shoulder, he fiddled with the knife for a brief few seconds.
He strolled back out of the church and began his new day.