Dirty Dan's Dirty Dam

"--"

Name: -- --
Nickname/Alias:
Gender: Male
Age and date of birth: 15
Age Appearance: He appears his age.
Sexuality: Pansexual 

Parents:
Height and build: 5'10"
Weight: 133
Favorite weather and season: Fall, especially when the leaves are a deep amber. He doesn't tell anyone, but he loves the peacefulness.

Village: Konohagakure
Organization: Shinobi Forces

Clan/Bloodline:

Rank: Genin

Chakra Nature:

Appearance:

Personality:

History:

Weapons/Items

Name of Weapon or Item:
Description:

Name of Weapon or Item:
Description:

Skills/Abilities:

Special Traits:

Kekkei Genkai:

Traits/Abilities of Kekkei Genkai:

Jutsu

Canon Jutsu:
Kawarimi no Jutsu
Henge no Jutsu
Bunshin no Jutsu
Shunshin no Jutsu

Custom Jutsu

Name of Technique: 
Type of Jutsu: 
Rank: 
Range: 
Nature Type: 
Handseals: 
Description: 

Weakness:

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Name of Technique:
Type of Jutsu:
Rank:
Range:
Nature Type:
Handseals:
Description:
Weakness:

Full name:
Johnathon 'Johnny' Blaze

Alias:
It varies. Most call him the Ghost Rider, but some have taken to calling him the 'Spirit of Vengeance', as well.

Age:
24

Birthplace/Hometown:
He grew up with the Quentin Carnival, never staying in one spot for too long.

Appearance:
Johnny Blaze's human form, is that of a man within his prime - as he is 24 years of age, himself. Standing at 6'2, Johnny possesses ldirty blondish-brown hair that is generally kept in it's natural state, the man not seeing any reason, at all, to stylize his appearance. This means that it's generally short-to-medium in length, and shaggy, with strands falling into his dark blue eyes. His physique is fairy normal for someone whom turns into a soul-burning spirit of vengeance during night times - muscular, albeit not bulky or disturbing. Enough to back up his already scary physical abilities. His face is a bit rugged, with a scuffle/shadow of a beard. As for his Ghost Rider form - it's much the same, as far as over-all size is apparent. He stays at 6'2, but, obviously, he turns into a vengeful, bone-white skeleton with blazing Hell-Fire surrounding his skull. In both forms, Johnny wears a clasped, dark black leather jacket, leather riding pants, and black combat boots, with spikes along the jacket's shoulders and arms, and spurs at the back of the boots. Contrary to what you might think, the spikes on his clothing are one-hundred percent metal, and one-hundred percent sharp, used to bludgeon and skewer enemies whenever he's in a fight.

Powers:
Johnny Blaze's powers are centered around his transformation into the Ghost Rider. As the Ghost Rider, Johnny has super physical attributes, such as strength, stamina, speed, and immense durability - even amongst the super-powered crowd. His skeletal body can survive run-ins with immense force, bludgeoning, high-caliber bullets and other piercing attacks, immense pressure, and general action. Similarly, if he's injured, his body self-regenerates, without any evidence of pain or discomfort - often used to highly intimidate and demoralized foes, by allowing them to get in an attack, only for Johnny to reform and make it seem hopeless. He also has the ability to manipulate his size to larger degrees. 

His 'major' powers are -

Hell-Fire Manipulation;; Ghost Rider possesses the ability to generate, control, and project mystical fire, or "hellfire" at will. Hellfire is an ethereal and supernatural flame that burns the soul of a person and can also be used to burn their physical body. He can utilize this fire in various ways, including projecting it from his eyes, hands, mouth, or even channel it from his body into his weapons like his chain and it's weaponized forms, form walls of hellfire, and even soup up any sort of vehicle into a Hell-Fire vehicle straight outta Lucifer's wet dreams. He can also unleash hellfire in omnidirectional explosions. This comes with the side-effect of Ghost Rider being, obviously, fire-proof.

Mystical Chain Projection;; Ghost Rider wields a mystical chain that is capable of growing in length, cutting through almost anything, and transforming into other weapons. He can also spew and project chains from his mouth or chest at will, although they lack the power of his original chain. The original chain is constantly wrapped around his right arm, making for a very intimidating, and powerful, weapon.

Penance Stare;; Ghost Rider possesses the supernatural ability to cause any individual who stares into his eyes to see and feel every bit of pain they have ever inflicted on anyone in their entire lifetime for all eternity, along with all of their guilt and regret.

Weather Control - Although not specifically trained in this power, Johnny has learned that he has wild control over lightning and clouds, and rain through the usage of said lightning. It is assumed that he inherited this from Alejandra.

Weaknesses:
Although he is powerful, the Ghost Rider has weaknesses, like all beings. Holy Weapons, and Holy Magic are somethings that he is simply weak to. With enough of said magic, basically, he dies, although it is unknown on what happens to his spirit once he's dead...since, technically, he is undead, and alive, at the same time. He is the Spirit of Vengeance, and thusly, will kill anyone he has to kill. No one can stop him. This can easily cause problems within the group, amongst the more...moralistic of heroes. His way of killing definitely isn't merciful, either. They suffer. Despite seeming dark and grim, Ghost Rider is undeniably a high-adrenalined specter, and thusly, his way of life is very...high-risk, high-reward. If you can't keep up, you can get hurt, which is, in a way, a weakness for Johnny himself.

Skills:
Blaze is an expert and master stunt rider, allowing him to perform feats in vehicles - such as motorcycles and trucks/cars - that are otherwise deemed impossible to the common, and even uncommon, man. This has also given him insane hand-eye coordination, allowing him to do sleight-of-hand tricks and movements very easily. Although he's had no proper training, he is also a formidable hand to hand combatant, using a street sort of fighting style that utilizes brutal takedowns, punches, kicks/knees, and generally using whatever's at your disposal to kill your opponent.

Brief Bio:
Johnny's biography isn't something you can just find on the street. He was born to his father and mother, Barton Blaze and Naomi Kale, growing up in the 'oohs and aahs' of motorcycle grease, cheering crowds, and high-adrenaline stunts. Born into the travelling Quentin Carnival, with notable figures such as Craig 'Crash' Simpson, Johnny's life was rather stable, as a child, until his mother left him and his siblings after his father's death.  His siblings were sent to the orphanage, while he was barely able to be adopted by Craig, and his wife, Mona. They attempted to pave a childhood for the now traumatized boy, but he knew that his mother left 'em all, and he didn't forget. Growing up, he loved Crash and Mona, as they were there for him when times were rough, and he grew closer and closer to their daughter, Roxanne Simpson. Meanwhile, his mother kept watch, on the off-chance the family curse surfaced...and the Ghost Rider was born anew.

Johnny became a performing member of Crash's stunt devil performance at the age of 12, using his 'dad's' old motorbike for amazing stunts that weren't really something you'd expect to see a child, whose balls hadn't even dropped, do. However, at 13, during a rather dangerous stunt, Mona was mortally wounded, and Johnny was injured. On her deathbed, his mother asked him not to ride anymore...and he agreed. The rest is history;; how he became the Ghost Rider, his life, his loss. All that's known is that Crash is now dead, Johnny is no longer married to Roxanne, and he has been the Ghost Rider for years now, starting when he was around 17 or 18. He travels the world on his motorcycle, a classic, rough-skinned biker during the day, and the intimidating Ghost Rider by night, claiming the souls of the sinful. When he was approached with this request, Johnny declined at first, but after more prodding, reluctantly agreed. This wasn't his sorta thing, however, and he bluntly told Nick that he wouldn't be 'pussy-footing'. The man agreed, and the Ghost Rider was left with his shot of whiskey, mulling over his decision.

Appearance:
Ryūhei is a relatively tall young man, standing at around 5 feet 11, or 6 feet exactly. His build is muscular and defined, but rather than the bulky, brute thickness that you would see in a lot of other pirates, Ryūhei's physique has more of a lean, streamlined build that boasts tightly-packed, explosive strength and speed. His hair is rather spiky and shaggy, soft locks naturally framing his face, while more locks breezes in the sky, spiked up. He has a pony-tail on the back, leading even more thick locks of hair down to around shoulder to shoulder-blade width. The hair itself is naturally white, going rather well with his dark golden eyes. 

Name:
Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded.

Gender:
Male

Nicknames/Aliases:
N/A

Epithet:
To be developed.

Age:
19

Bounty:
To be developed.

Hometown:
South Blue - A coastal island that went by the name 'Huroko's Nest'.

Pirate Crew:
~

Role:
Swordsman/Combat Specialist

Abilities:
;; Swordsman's Spirit - Ryūhei has no Devil Fruit, but makes this up with pure strength, speed, agility, reflexes, and grit. His taut, muscular form holds immense power, that much is obvious. He can leap wide, considerable distances, slam holes through boulders with one punch or slice completely through with one swing, run for hours before getting fatigued, move at high speeds, and, with his determination and will, fight for however long it takes for either him or his opponent to die...even if it goes past his body's limits. Even so, he may become unconscious for days or weeks afterwards. The things he can do could seem inhuman, even for Devil Fruit Users - people who hold inhuman power themselves. 

;; Swordsman's Skill - Ryūhei's plan for the future is to become the world's greatest swordsman, and already, he is showing steadfast resolve and untouchable potential. A prodigy in the arts of two swords, Ryūhei is an extremely skilled combatant, far on his way to perfecting his personally created style - Nireisu, or the Two Blade Style. His style allows him to excel fantastically in close-combat, while also holding artillery-like techniques for necessity's sake.

One of the few men with the ability of Hakairyoku, Ryūhei can channel his own life-energy into his blades, or his body, increasing his already exceptional physical abilities and skills, although he is still rather...'ignorant' to this ability, and will learn more of it in the future. His techniques with Nireisu are named, for the sake of concentration and efficiency, and will be exposed IC. Ryūhei is also an accomplished hand-to-hand combatant, able to hold his own against strong opponents with his fists and legs, but generally, he prefers his katanas.

Personality: 
Ryūhei comes off as a distant, fierce, and serious man that keeps to himself, opting to train, watch the ocean, eat, or train some more. However, despite this, he has a surprisingly small temper, and can lose said temper rather comically if you know how to push his buttons. Despite his lack of kinder emotions, other than anger or the occasional wistfulness, he does, in fact, have a heart - a rather passionate one, at that. He is a selfless being when it comes to those weaker and more innocent than him, and will risk his life in their steed - but he definitely won't go down without fighting. He believes that he lacks the ability to show certain emotions, and hasn't cried since...his past. In spite of this, he does have a bit of a humorous side - albeit his humor can be quite dark at times. 

In the crew, he's generally the more 'serious' of the mates, and somewhat of an advisor, pointing out flaws to the captain's plans, but otherwise keeping to himself. He loves eating, mostly due to the amount of fat his body sheds during his extreme physical workouts, but that's a story for another day. Although gruff on the outside, once you manage to get within his 'trust bubble', you will have an extremely dangerous swordsman with a kind, if not jaded and calloused heart as your guardian. He will fight armies for his teammates, and can, and is, willing to suffer through Hell for them, if necessary. Can sometimes come off as lazy due to his lack of responsibilities on board, but he's not actually lazy. In battle, he is incredibly violent and fierce, often grinning whenever his opponent is a challenge. However, when fighting weaker opponents, he tends to be a bit disappointed, restraining himself immensely, and holding back.

Biography:
To be revealed later.

Theme Song:
Grief - Warning, explicit language.

Other:
He has two katanas - Tsukihime and Benihime. Tsukihime has the white and blue hilt, and Benihime has the crimson and golden hilt.

Name:
Victor Knight

Age:
25 years young.

Alias:
Crisis

City of Operation:
He operates within New York, but has publically made an announcement that he, as Victor Knight, would be staying in Cleveland for the timebeing, to discuss political and funding matters with the city's officials. This has given him leverage in the city, along with a temporary housing/headquarters via a compound he bought quite easily- which he has already started securing and upgrading with the necessary equipment.

Psyche:
Crisis, as Victor Knight, is the standard confident, charismatic man you'd expect to see in a multi-billionaire CEO. Always with a smooth, flirtatious smirk and a constant glint in his eyes, Victor is known as a whip-smart, yet undeniably playboyish and psuedo-irresponsible man that loves the big things in life. He has had multiple - numerous female partners within the last year...at least, that's what the media believes, and he is justn over-all a smooth-timed playboy. He seems to care for others at a compassionate level, despite his womanizing manner, as he has given millions and millions of dollars into hospitals, disease studies, and orphanages/charities across the world. He is as much as a politician as he is a businessman, and Victor generally has a high position within today's world. As they say...Victor is a genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. Of course, this is only a faux personality...something that isn't truly him, at all.

At his core, and as Crisis, he drops the grin for an expression of concentration, and the slicked hair and Armani suit for a dark, lethal imagery. Darkly determined, intelligent, focused, and vengeful, Crisis gives both criminals and regular civilians nightmares. He doesn't talk during the job, finding it to be a waste of breath, but whenever he does; mainly to intimidate corrupt politicians or a group of fire-arm-wielding thugs, Crisis' words are deep, sharp, and fear-inspiring. His facial expressions barely shifts out of it's grim frown, and his emotions are incredibly hard to read and decipher - especially due to the helmet that obscures his identity away. Despite all of this, Crisis kills, threatens, and fights for one thing, and one thing only...and that is Justice. To clean the world, and rid it of it's natural impurities, one by one...to save helpless and helpful victims, from the shadows...even if they don't appreciate the method. 

One thing is for sure...you wouldn't want to run into this masked vigilante in a dark alleyway.

Equipment:
Crisis Suit - His standard Vigilante costume/armor, used to prowl the streets as Crisis. The suit itself is composed of a hardy, lightweight, and customly synthesized Kevlar material for it's main component, with rubbed-down and insulated titanium for certain coating along vital areas. The suit has been tested and made sure to be bullet, pierce, and slash proof due to it's armored materials, along with being flame, explosion, and water-retardant. The helmet's visor is programmed with x-rays, infrared viewers, and auditory sensors. The helmet itself is programmed to plug into police and emergency department frequencies, along with having a miniature map of his current area in the visor's bottom left corner. The suit has a dark gray/mottled black utility belt on either hips, equipped with a variety of different gadgets, raining from scanners to smoke/explosion/freeze pellets. 

Gadgets - A hero that believes in lethal force, Crisis holds a wide variety of different lethal equipment on his person, at all times. The gloves of his suit contains built-in grappling hook devices, launched directly from the underside of the wrist. The hooks are made of a razor-sharp steel alloy, allowing it to be used as weapons, traversing tools, and even restraints. A specific twist of the wrist will send a varied amount of volts of electricity through the metal wiring of the grappling hooks.

Along both sides of his rib-cages, tucked into the black Kevlar material, are various amounts of small, black, lethal throwing blades - each one made of light-weighted, hollowed steel alloy. As they are sewn and connected within the inside of his suit, wrapping around the inside of his back, taking one out of it's holster will push another one into the holster, from the inside, giving him a large amount of throwing knives to use to his discretion.

By far, his 'mainly-used' weapons are the two razor-sharp, dark-colored trench knives, magnetically holstered to his hips. They are rather mysterious in their own right, as the exact metal they are made of is unknown, and they can be recalled back to his gloved hands, as if by a magnetic force. Weighted perfectly, and made at the perfect length for close-ranged combat, these are tools of destruction.

He has many vehicles, both within his mansion, and within his Crisis Base, and he can cycle through them all for automatic-honing [A technique that brings the vehicle towards his personal signature at maximum speed] through his suit's control panel, located on either wrist. This technique is often used for fast get-aways, or even combat. His currently used vehicle is a customly-created motorcycle. Futuristic and a deep ebony, the motorcycle features a nitro-entailed engine, customly-bolstered gas mileage, and dermal armor all along it's base; along with a bullet-proof visor and tires.

Powers:
The rain-drops didn't bless him with some insane mind powers, or control over fire, or anything of that sort...but that doesn't matter. His body was simply changed that day, for the better...not that he was out of shape in the first place. To put it simply, he can now run faster and longer, hit harder and take hits harder, and heal at a faster rate than a Olympic-leveled human. However, it isn't enough to lift cars or punch through solid steel...in a technical term, he can bench-press over one ton, but with stress. His brain reacts at a quicker pace - enhanced reflexes, and he can hit things with accuracy second to none by non-super beings. His powers, to put in a simple term, is 'Above-Human Physical Prowess'. He doesn't have super-speed, or super-strength...just enhanced versions of said attributes.

Weaknesses:
Hm...let's see. Well, first off, Victor isn't a destructive ball of fire. Don't get me wrong...he can clear an entire warehouse of armed criminals faster than most super-power-wielding-heroes...but in a one on one fight with someone with, say, elemental-manipulation, he would need to be on his toes, and finish the fight quickly. He lacks the necessary powers to go head to head with such a foe, but a little tricking, and his superiority in skill would allow him to -hopefully- finish the person off...swiftly, and for all.

His caution could be a weakness. When he first see you, he immediately analyzes your form for weaknesses and exploits, even if he's Victor Knight, and not Crisis. He's too ready at times.

His methods of execution has also garnered Crisis a lot of haters and/or enemies, mainly in the form of law enforcement agencies and such. They don't know whether to label him villain or hero, since he only targets villains and criminals...but leaves them as bloodied, cooling corpses.

Skills/Talents:
His lack of destructive super-powers is hardly a crutch, seeing as Victor is a master of close quartered combat. He has mastered every fighting style currently known to man, using a blend of Krav Maga, ninjutsu, and Brazilian jiu-jitsu on his opponents. Along with this, he is an expert user of weaponry - having mastered his trench knives - a disguise expert, a talented liar, a technological genius, a master strategist, a polymath, an expert driver/crack pilot, an escapologist, along with a few other titles. A master of many, as they say.

History:
The crying of a baby boy was vibrant within the large, posh Knight Manor, and the scurrying of dozens of maids, butlers, and staff fumbled throughout the mansion's interior. A wisp of a man, with fraying blonde hair and a form-fitting suit, sat at the edge of the hospital bed, eyes wide and hands creaking under the pressure of a woman's grip. The woman breathed quickly and loudly, a scream tearing through her throat as the doctors around the comfortable bed yelled 'PUSH'. The woman was beautiful by all realms of the imagination, only subliminally  marred by the sweat sticking her dark brown hair to her forehead. The entire situation was going smoothly, and only within seconds, they would garner an heir.

These two were Lance and Amelia Knight, respectively...both head owners of Knight Enterprises, which, in itself, was an international, multi-billion dollar company that span the globe, and one of the few, if not the top business expansions in the entire world, in both the present and the future. The two have been trying for an heir for the past three years, with minimal success. It was thought that Lance was sterile, since he had an attempted vasectomy in one of his youthful escapades decades ago, but that was proven wrong when Amelia was found pregnant those faithful months in the past. Now...their precious Victor would be borne. He would be born...and lead the Enterprises further into victor, with his parents at his back. It would be wonderful.

"PUSH!" Amelia pushed. The sound of young, squeaky crying abruptly filled the air, and relieved smiles formed on the faces of all those present. Amelia immediately reached for her precious baby, cobalt eyes twinkling in the dim candle-light of the Knight Private Hospital, and her smile widened as she noticed the dark brown and blonde hair, fleeting due to young age. When the eyes opened, revealing dark blue pools of royal navy, a squealed was released from all of the women doctors, Amelia amongst them. The doctors began filing out after a look from Lance - the slim man still holding an authorative intimidation. Standing, Lance sidled up to his wife's shoulders, slowly reaching forward to stoke the side of the baby's cheek. "Victor's beautiful, honey..." He whispered softly, a small smile on his lips as he kissed his wife's damp forehead. "...I love him...and I love you." The baby's crying had stopped, and the small family shared a warm hug.

Skip forward a few years. A young child, around four years old, squared off to a tall, buff man around middle-age. They were both shirtless, wearing gym shorts, with bright red boxing gloves tapered off at the wrist. With dark brown and blonde-peppered locks, the child had a deviously cute visage; a future heart-breaker in the beginning of his childish youth. A smirk was on his face, rather uncommon for little kids. Meanwhile, the older man had a mohawk and beard, with darker-toned skin, and a vibrant scar going down his left eye. His mouth was grinning, showing multiple golden teeth. This was all happening within what appeared to be a private gym, with multiple weight sets all around, and the two being within what seemed to be an ornate boxing ring. "Okay, kid, let's start with some light boxi-" The child had already crossed the ring, leaping up in the air, a gloved fist heading straight for the man's cheek. The smirk had stretched.

Yes, life for young Victor Knight...it was wonderful, all things considered. The youngest heir to a multi-billion dollar company, and the youngest scion to a filthy wealthy and rich family; with his mother being a world-renown scientist, physicist, and technician, while his father was a world-renown aerospace engineer, philanthropist, and businessman. Obviously, this gave him cockiness and arrogance in his life, but most of it wasn't mean-spirited arrogance, just the classic rich-kid-swagger. He got everything he wanted growing up. Toys, video-games, attention, private tutoring...he was a once in a life time prodigy. Everything he did, he mastered, and everything he didn't master, he spent hours upon hours on to master. He had a drive to be the best boy and future businessman he could be, and his parents supported their son wholeheartedly.

And then...that's when the trouble began brewing. As you know, such a...popular and spirited company and family would have life-long enemies, right? Well, at the age of eight, whilst practicing Taekwando with his bodyguard - the bearded and mohawked man that went by the joking name of Pop-Eye, panic seemed to surge within Knight Manor. Panic seemed to reign supreme; with butlers and maids running all throughout the manor. It made for a scene highly reminiscent to an event that happened approximately eight years ago. However, this was obviously not something that carefree and glorious. The sound of cracking, automated firearm usage suddenly blasted throughout the manor, as if coming from a distance, and it was slowly, slowly getting closer. From the door's window, before his eyes, with fear creeping down his throat, Victor witnessed a group of maids running down the hallway, before a constant barrage of lead slammed into their backs and heads, sending them reeling through the air, bodies becoming pin-cushions for the .40 bullets. Blood flashed across the door's window, and he flinched subconsciously.

He was abruptly thrown to the ground, as a rearing and shouting Pop-Eye slammed against the door shoulder-first, both large, calloused hands gripped around what seemed to be a .50 cal Desert Eagle, Bessie; Victor recognized it immediately, from training with the man. "Vic! Go hide in the safety room in the back of the gym...and don't come out until you hear my, Jeff's, or your parent's voice through the speakers!" The man grunted out in his usually deep, gravelly voice. He slowly opened the door, only to leap back, grabbing Victor with him, as two large, bulky men - bloodied and wielding assault rifles - shouldered through the openings. "Hey, Ross, look at what we have here-" The first man was abruptly cut off by a .50 cal bullet blasting through his cranium. Ross  panic-squeezed his trigger at the loud CRACK, and the spray hit the ceiling. Another CRACK echoed, and he was lying on the floor, a hole leaking gray brain matter across the marble.

Victor just...just stared blankly at the bodies. The way the blood slowly congealed on the floor, bits of bone chips literally the wall and door hinge. It was all...just...disgusting. Pop-Eye glanced over from where he had his ear pressed against the wall. The sound of stomping feet and wild yelling didn't fill him with confidence. "Come on, kid, we need to get to you to a safe place!" There was hesitation in the deep voice. He was worried if Victor was in shock. The boy shook his head sharply, bending down with shaking hands and eyes. His ward pretended not to notice the boy grabbing a familiar combat-knife from Ross's hip.

With a nod, Pop-Eye began dashing down the opposite end of the hall, light panting from slightly behind him showing that Victor was keeping pace relatively well. Regardless, he slowed down so that the boy could be slightly in front of him, while he kept a lookout on both the front and back directions. As they ran towards the grand staircase, Pop-Eye narrowed his eyes at Victor's back. Despite being eight...the boy was wielding to fight for the Manor. They both didn't know what was going on...but he planned on finding out, and protecting the boy he began to think of as a nephew.

They passed a corner, and Pop-Eye faltered slightly at the entrance of the manor. Victor, however, stumbled completely, falling to his knees. Bile rose up through the young boy's throat, and Pop-Eye could only pat the puking boy on the back. Stacked at the entrance, keeping the mansion locked, was mutilated bodies and body parts of the Knight's staff; maids and butlers that Victor knew for years, and that Pop-Eye had known for even longer...dead and violated. A thug, that had been standing, arms crossed, in front of the meat-blockade, began reaching for his assault rifle. 

A CRACK echoed through the building, and the thug fell to the ground. Pop-Eye lowered his Deagle, looking down at Victor. "You okay...?" He asked the young boy. A hiccup is all he got in return. Slowly, Pop-Eye stood, easily throwing Victor over a shoulder. "Let's get to the safe-room." He whispered, sprinting for the stairs. However, he had to stop once more...when the mangled and torn body of Lance Knight slowly rolled down the stairs, with a large, bulky man in a white suit following slowly after the mutilated corpse, a tommy gun in hand.

"Gregory Hill...Interesting. Is this what you've been lowered to? A body-guard to a spoiled brat?"

A strangled gasp split the air, and Victor fell from Pop-Eyes shoulders, tackling his father's dead body. He began to cry, all of the emotions he had tried to restrict to continue on...all spilling forth. A bang echoed, and a tommy gun round splintered through his right shoulder. He dully heard himself bit right through his lip, not being able to restrain the scream as the bullet threw his body down the rest of the few stairs. More words were spoken, and when he next opened his eyes, the deep brown hair of his mother was covering his face - along with the feeling of her cold skin. Fire was spreading everywhere, and the now-realized Gregory zoomed in on his body, bleeding from what seemed to be a bullet-wound, a head injury, and various lacerations. That's when he blacked out.

___

The rest of his history has been frayed by Victor's own mind, at a young age, as a way of coping, but after that faithful night, things changed. Knight's Manor had fell, his parents and staff all going down with it...only Pop-Eye was a constant, stable figure in his young life. Torn and broken by this, Victor yearned to leave New York...just leave, for now. He wanted vengeance...he wanted to kill every single one of the criminals that had infested his home and destroyed it. This created Crisis, and as he, along with Gregory, traveled the world, with Gregory and a plethora of other different figures teaching Victor everything he wanted - no, needed to know and master, Victor began to formulate the Vigilante of his mind. Crisis. Through his absence, friends of the Knight family, and the executives and CEOs of Knight Enterprises, began to rebuild the Knight Manor, along with regaining it's previous fame. It took a time, but Knight Enterprises recovered, and took over the business and political world once more.

Meanwhile, the crime boss Tommy Pigureli, and his entire mafia, mysteriously died in a fire, whilst staying at their alternate base in Greece. They were the slayers of the Knight family.

At the age of twenty, he returned to New York as Victor Knight - the heir to the Knight legacy returning to his home sparked months of press coverage, and together, with his top executive and friend - along with private teacher and instructor, Gregory Hall AKA Pop-Eye, Victor began to reconstruct his life. He returned to Knight Manor, and oversaw the various construction plans. Once the reconstruction was completely finished, Victor began to secure the manor, so that a repeat would not happen again. It was now upgraded, and grander than ever; but not complete. Using his funds, and technology from another branch of Knight Enterprises - Knight Engineering and Tech - he constructed the Crisis Base, located underneath Knight Manor. That is when the Legacy of Crisis, and Victor, began.

________

ame || Shēn Obelisk [Sh-In Oh-Bah-Lisk]

Age || 15 years of age.

Personality || Shēn is a very calm, observant kid, with a composed and almost distant demeanor, combined with keen fighting prowess. Very mature for his age, and a bit unskilled when it comes to the emotional spectrum of social life. However, he's naturally kind, and has been experimenting with creating smiles that doesn't seem unfitting on a young boy's face..It hasn't been going well, and thusly, his face stays impassive. He tends to stay quiet unless he feels the need to speak, and his voice, despite young, holds an undertone of authority that forces those around him to, at the very least, listen, even unwillingly.

During battle, he's his normal self, his unnaturally keen and analytical/observant soul allowing him to predict moves before they happen, and easily see through illusions or tricks of the eye. He coolly defeats his opponents, showing no mercy to inhuman abominations such as Grimms, or irreedemable enemies, while showing restraint against non-villainous humans. If he were to be forced to fight someone he cares about, be it teammates or friends, his full amount of care is shown, seeing as he would carefully and accurately absorb their attacks, before swiftly knocking them unconscious, painlessly. 

Appearance || Shēn stands at the average height for a kid his age, around 5'6 or so. His physique is lean, although toned, dense muscles are evident on his form once you see him without multiple layers of clothing on. Fair-skinned, Shēn's face, although impassive a lot of the times, is still maturing, giving him a boyish look that is somewhat matured by his personality. His black, silky-soft hair is tamed and feathery at the front, flitting over his eyes, and framing his face, while the rest is naturally spiky. His hair lacks any artificial grease, and is as soft as feathers, which is why it's easily blown by the wind. Shēn always promises himself to cut it, but it grows back just as fast. His eyes are one of his more 'stared-at' features, being a deep, deep dark gray, mixed with a voidless black. They are calm and cool, watching everything with the will of an untameable spirit. 

Clothing-wise, Shēn keeps it casual. He doesn't enjoy being terribly restricted. Thusly, for casual-wear, he wears a white, unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt, black shirt, regular jeans, and high-top black and white sneakers with high-density grips on the bottom. As a student, he wears the classic Beacon Academy uniform for males. Exodus and Prometheus, his two rings, Exodus and Prometheus, are always worn on his hands. He cannot get into trouble in the academy for wearing them, seeing as they are not, legally, weapons.

History || To be revealed...

Skills/Weaponry || When bullies or enemies see Shēn, they see a young, if not mystifying kid...and so, they underestimate him. He's not giant and bulky, and so...they don't expect it when he beats them into the ground. Something you should take note about Shēn, is that his strength, speed, and agility is high above average.

Due to the close-combat style that he has been heavily trained in, he needs to get close fast, and defeat enemies faster. Although his lean body might not show it, Shēn is incredibly strong and quick. This, combined with his specialized skill in hand-to-hand combat, and his crackshot, makes him an extremely dangerous opponent. Something that should be noted, as shown in the personality, is his mind. It's his Semblance. His unnaturally keen and analytical/observant soul allowing him to predict a lot of moves before they happen, and easily see through illusions or tricks of the eye.

However, like all men, he has weaknesses. A main weakness of his is long-range combat. His gloves have firing forms, of course, but they are not made for sniping, like rifles or such. Due to this, he has to get close, preferring mid to close combat. This makes snipers one of his weaknesses, and yet, he also has an advantage over them, due to him being superior once he crosses that distance. 

Exodus [left-glove] and Prometheus [right-glove] are his weapons. Originally just black rings, one on both hands, they can be transformed into gloves by simply twisting them. When transformed, they are slim, tight-fitting black gloves with steel linings/veins. In each knuckle, hidden, are small steel capsules, containing large amounts of crushed, purified Dust Crystals, different types of crystals in each knuckle.

By cracking his knuckles, Shēn can change the 'mode' of the gloves, from Fire, to Ice, to Wind, and thus forth. For instance, cracking a knuckle on his right hand can change Prometheus into it's 'Fire' mode, instantly igniting the glove in a constant, searing-hot crimson flame. To change the mode, he simply has to crack a different knuckle on that glove. On the wrist, where the glove begins, there is a stubbed steel tube, one on each glove. Powerful, armor-piercing shotgun rounds are blasted from these tubes, releasing massive recoil that Shēn has learned to adapt to, using it in conjunction with acrobatic maneuvers and brutal, efficient hand-to-hand techniques.

As the gloves were customly made by him, Shēn is always upgrading them, and tweaking something. He's still figuring out how to install rockets into the gloves...but he will. Somehow.

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Appearance: As noted in the 'physical shape', Garrett is a lean, tightly muscular young man, standing at 5'10. His skin is a fair, light white, neither really pale or tan, and is littered with smaller, healed over scars over his torso and back
Size: 5'10, 136lbs
Physical Shape: His physical shape has been mainly tailored by a lifetime of physical exercise, and then further maintained by the constantly struggle to live. It is a muscular, sinewy, and lean body-type, defined with lean, yet whip-corded muscularity, and packed together like sinewy strands. Although, you wouldn't really notice, unless he has on a shirt small/tight enough to show it off, or, if he has on a lot of clothing, if you touch his body. 
Name:
Age: Eighteen years of age. [Seventeen at the first day of the Outline.]
Personality: Don't be a hero, is what they say. Is your character really that tough that he will enter a dark building without lights on? Will your character be brave enough to face multiple infected at once? Your personality is for you to decide, try to really get into character. Maybe you'd rather skip a certain building because there are to many infected inside. Maybe you choose to help yourself rather then your friends in a though situation. That is up to you to decide.
Occupation: Your job or study before the outbreak.
Equipment: Can be as simple as the current clothes you're wearing but can get more elaborate as the roleplay goes on, think a kevlar vest, helmets or things like that.
Inventory: Everyone starts off with a backpack, that doesn't mean you have unlimited carrying capacity though. And the heavier the objects the slower you are. I advice you to really think about what you have with you. Not just food, water, clothes. Maybe you have family pictures? A book or two? Toothpaste and a toothbrush to keep some personal hygiene. Deoderant, your cellphone. A wallet with its contents. Maybe even that precious coin collection you could not bear to leave behind.
Weapons: If you have a gun, keep in mind that unless you have detailed background of firearm use you will most likely not be a very good shot. A running target is quite difficult to hit, especially if you have to hit it in the head to kill it. I also encourage melee weapons to get worn down and possibly even break over time.
Background: Tell something about your character and his or her history and life up to this point. It doesn't have to be too elaborate, but you're free to go nuts.

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----Michael Wesley ----

Size: 6'1

Physical Shape: Michael's body is well taken care of. At a healthy weight, and broad-shouldered, he has a lean, muscled physique, that comes with years of eating meat and vegetables, handling rowdy animals, and drawing bows taut. Hunting has garnered him a steady food supply over the time of the apocalypse, so starving has never been something that he has really experienced at this day and age. 

Age: 24 years of age.

Personality:  Michael can come off as unapproachable, but that's mainly because he tends to be a bit on the quiet side, having spent literally the majority of this apocalyptic journey alone - thus making silence something he is intimately familiar with. While a bit cold-shouldering, Michael is a very down-to-earth, realistic man, calloused from witnessing the deaths of his loved ones. Focused on the task at hand, and mature, Michael can take on a leadership role rather easily - although he tend to be a loner, due to the fact that groups can easily limit mobility and survival chances. He isn't secretly evil, and is a naturally humane person. If he sees someone in trouble, there's a high chance of him helping. However, as stated before, he's realistic, and if there's no chance in Hell of them being saved without major loss on both sides, he will move on, albeit with a heavy heart. These trying times have made him merciless in certain situations, and he no longer hesitates to end the life of a human, if that human poses harm or threat to him or anyone close to him. Serious, and focused, Michael's first rule of survival is...'Survive'. Although he may not seem it at first, there are rare times where Michael will let down his guard and laugh/joke, but it's extremely rare. With close friends, he may let down his guard a tad, and crack jokes or engage in some type of banter, but don't expect it to be an often thing. Even then, him getting all laughy and hyperactive is a no-go.

Occupation: Hunter/farmer by trade, lived in the country with his grandpa and grandma. Sold animal fur/meat to a nearby small-town city.

Equipment: Michael's equipment consists mainly of;; A pair of rugged black cargo pants, tucked into dark brown, water-proofed boots, a short-sleeved, form-fitting black shirt, and a dark green/black, cloth-padded, hooded jacket. The jacket contains, in the pockets, a multi-tool, a scarred lighter, a small flash-light light, and a wallet - containing some money and a picture of his grandparents.

Inventory: A heavy-duty, lightweight hunting backpack, dark black and brown. Inside the small pocket at the front are: Two small, speed-sticks of deodorant, a worn toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and a compact pack of purification tablets. Hooked to the side is: A worn, dented, and reusable canteen. Inside of the main compartment are: Five small zip-lock bags of dried, packed balls of salted deer-meat, three bottles of purified water, torn rags, and a worn, miniature first-aid kit, containing two small bottle of alcohol and two small spindles of clean bandages. The bottles and spindles are re-filled/wrapped at different stops. His inventory is light-weight and essential, which he had in mind when he packed it all.

Weapons: A worn, yet highly-maintained and sturdy recurve bow, a leather-wrapped quiver with self-made, sturdy arrows, and a sharpened utility knife. His arrows are reusable, which he makes great use of, and is virtually silent;; It's rare that you would see him with a gun. The utility knife is strapped securely to his pants, and the bow is latched to a strap on his backpack; easy access. The quiver is peeking over his right shoulder, strapped to his back. A solid, light-weight crowbar is strapped to the other side, opposite to his canteen.

Background: Michael had always been raised to be a humble, hardworking young man. Born in a country home, in a plot of land where the forest was cut-off at, hard-work was always a part of his daily life. Cutting wood for the fire, tending to the cows and pigs, and going hunting with his grandpa, deep within the woods...that's how his life was. His mother was single, and had died giving birth to him, leading him into the custody of his grandparents. He didn't mind;; to him, those two would always be his real parents, no matter what. He was taught his studies by a hired tutor, and was taught how to be a man by his grandfather. 

He speared fish in the lake behind their home, he rode horses down the dirt trails, he helped build sheds and different contraptions for the animals and vehicles, and, the most fun of all, he hunted animals with Mother Nature, selling the fur and hide in the market whenever they went down into town - which wasn't often. When all of this happened, Michael and his grandparents knew nothing of it. They were getting old, and it was up to Michael to provide for the family;; he did so efficiently and immediately, spending his time roping the horses, tending to the pigs, chickens, and cows, and hunting deer, boars, and hogs in the forest. Whilst in the middle of tying down a dead boar to his old four-wheeler, he heard strangled screams, along with groans and gunshots from back home. Dropping the boar, Michael leaped onto his ride and blazed a path of leaves through the woods, going straight through the trail and blasting into his yard. What he saw...he would remember forever. His grandmother, her body bleeding out in her garden. 

His grandfather, bleeding from multiple bite wounds on the neck and chest, feebly aiming a bloodied and spent shotgun at this...this thing. There was a lot of these things, and Michael's first instinct was to scream bloody-murder and charge in. Logic prevailed, and it was like watching for third person. bring up bow, notch arrow, shoot...through the heart. No luck. Notch, aim, shoot...through the back of the head. The rotten human fell. He began taking out the shambling walkers, dodging over tractors and crouching on top of old trucks as they began to move after him. Eventually, the herd fell, and Michael crossed the distance between his grandparents. After that, the memory got hazy.

Ever since then, he has been travelling, after burying his only family, and gathering his supplies.

___

Name: Ryūto Saichi.
Grade: Junior.
Codename: N/A
Powers:Kinetic Energy Manipulation
Clubs or Achievements: Ryūto keeps a relatively mysterious presence throughout the school, and nothing is really known about him, other than the one thing most people judge him by;; The murder of his 'father', if the man could even be called that. He's not involved in anything, but his GPA stays average to above average, and he shows up for school. Albeit with bruises and looking beat-up a lot...but he gets to school most of the time.
Brief Bio: Ryūto's biography is something that he doesn't try to forget, because forgetting it would be like forgetting his life;; He needs it to succeed. Born to the more...'poor' side of town, his mother left him when he was younger, pawning him off to a half-hearted adoption agency. He was then thrown from abusive household to abusive household, his body growing tough due to the lashings;; and his fists growing even tougher from defending himself. He was bounced to a house holding an abusive man with a heart defect, and during an argument - in which Ryūto was silent the entire time - the man had a heart-attack. His wife, coming home, saw the man dead, with Ryūto watching him silently. The boy was taken to a psychiatric ward, with the thoughts that he ended up killing the man, despite no evidence saying he did such a deed. There, he was taken in by a seemingly nice woman. When they reached her home, it turned out that the woman was his actual mother, and that she was married to a less than satisfactory husband. Such a new situation, right? Well...wrong. Events happened, and in the end, Ryūto stood over the woman's drug-addicted husband, a bloodied frying pan in hand. 

The rest is history.

Just know that the police was called by neighbors, as his mother screamed, and Ryūto was taken to a better part of town, to an actually good-natured orphanage. There, he found a man that taught him a few things, and then gave him an anonymous tip to an old boxing gym. Ryūto went there out of curiosity, and the man came out of the back, a jogging suit on. Long story short? Ryūto, after being told that he definitely had a fighting spirit, began training to become a professional boxer. Years past, with him getting into school, and growing up amongst the 'murderer' whispers of student body and teachers alike. Only in the ring, where he can unleash his true 'killer instincts', did Ryūto feel welcomed. When all of this happened...well, he didn't know what to think. It was put on the back-burner, however. Recently, he had his debut match, and officially obtained his Pro Boxing license.

_________

Name: Ranulf Edom
Team/occupation: RMPT
Species: Human
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Handedness: Ambidextrous.
Aura/Effects: A fiery red, the same color as fire. Surrounds him like a raging inferno.
Symbol: Here
Physical traits: N/A
Misc traits: A few long red battle scars along his torso and back.
Nickname(s): N/A

2) Appearance:

Height: 6'0"
Weight: 178lbs
Eyes: Dark reddish-orange. Blazes pure crimson when semblance is maxed.
Face: Fair.
Hair: Crimson.
Physique: Leanly muscular and toned. A fighter's body.
Combat/Casual Outfit: A sleeveless, form-fitting, and lightly armored, dark black combat shirt, with a belted pair of dark brown cargo pants, tucked into combat boots. A dark crimson, highly tattered scarf is generally wrapped around his neck, flapping in the wind. It's neigh unbreakable, and mainly used to cover his mouth and nose against wind-resistance, or disgusting scents/poisonous gas. It can also be used in combat, as a strangulation device.

3) Characteristics:

Personality: Ranulf comes off as a cold, rather abrasive young man with intense, fiery, and piercing eyes, He has an intelligent, razor-sharp mind, that comes in handy with his quick-thinking prowess and incredible instincts. He seems to have a lot of street-smart and unorthodox methods of dealing with his problems, and due to his life, he has absolutely no problems with killing either Grimms or humans. One thing about him is his immense, comet-like intensity and determination. If something intrigues or interests him, he won't stop until he quenches his interest and intrigue. Once you manage to become close enough to him, most can often see that his personality hides a more...softer side of him, although he'd threaten you with bodily harm before admitting it. He has a short fuse, and will explode in anger whenever said fuse is lit on fire and sliced to it's limits. 

For all intents and purposes, Ranulf is a rebellious delinquent, and absolutely ruthless in battle...almost demon-like. Due to this, some people find it impossible not to be intimidated by the young man. He will speak his mind if he feels the need to do so, and underneath all of his toughness, there's some inkling of kindness. He won't let bullies bully weaker people, although if it's someone being pushed around, and they're strong enough to do something, he won't help, figuring it will 'toughen them up'. However, if it's multiple people against one person, he'll instantly leap into the fight. That's another thing...he loves fighting. It's where he can let out all of the stress and anger of the day, and just stomp mudholes in asses. The adrenaline is also a fulfilling factor. This means that he enjoys other such adrenaline-high things, such as fast vehicles, and dangerous situations. To put it into key traits, for Ranulf, it would be;; Cold, abrasive, violent, rebellious, and battle-lusty. There's an inner kindness, that comes out as 'tough love'.

Background: To be revealed.

4) Combat info:

Position/Class: Close-Combat Warrior.
Landing strategy: To be revealed.

Weapon: Demon Magnolia, named rather ironically. It's a pair of gauntlets, harder than even steel, that amplifies Ranulf's natural strength to immense levels, while also being able to be used to block different attacks, due to the gauntlet's durability. There are small, thick steel barrels on the front of the gauntlets, which can blast out explosive rounds with only a punch. The recoil of these shots are immense, with Ranulf using the recoil to increase the force and speeds of his attacks and movements. Different types of rounds can be inserted and taken out through the bottom of the gauntlets, where an unnoticeable 'slot' is located. The 'dormant' form of Demon Magnolia are dark red rings, and they transform into Demon Magnolia by only slamming the rings together, or onto something solid. He can, of course, just click the rings as well, since they're pressurized...but where's the intensity in that?!

Semblance: The best term to use for Ranulf's semblance, is 'scary'. Basically, the more he fights and gets hit, the faster, stronger, and generally tougher he gets, and the higher his 'power-bar' builds. He can feel his 'power-bar' building whilst fighting, and at it's maximum, he can release and harness all of this pent-up power, usually evident by him slamming his fist into his palm. When this happens, his crimson, fiery aura blasts out around him like a bonfire of power, and his eyes becomes pure crimson, sclera included. 

In this form, his strength, speed, and durability/agility is heavily increased, and he can use his aura in a tangible form, which comes out as a sort of Hell-Fire, which is hotter than the normal dust fire. He can cancel this state anytime he wants to by simply cutting off the flow of power, and people with Aura-Siphoning semblances can cancel it by siphoning all of his aura. It is called his 'Demon State'. The 'Demon State' can be passed if he gets angry enough while in it. It's called his 'Devil State', and it's the highest form he can currently reach. Not much is different, appearance-wise, other than the fact that his strength, speed, and ferocity increases even more. 

Fighting style: Something you should take note about Ranulf, is that his strength, speed, and agility is high above average. Due to the close-combat style that he has heavily trained himself in, he needs to get close fast, and defeat enemies faster. Ranulf is incredibly strong and quick. This, combined with his specialized skill in hand-to-hand combat, and his crackshot, makes him an extremely dangerous opponent. His fighting style is something between Street-Style, brutal Boxing, combined with some freestyle Wrestling and Muay Thai thrown in, creating for a very unorthodox, unpredictable, and endlessly ruthless and destructive style.

5) Trivia:

Relationships: Other than some people in his past, there's none he currently knows of. [Open]
Notes: None.

Name: Santiago Montoya
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Nativity: Hispanic - Mexican descent.

Appearance: Santiago, as stated above, is a man of Hispanic, or, to be more specific, Mexican, descent. He stands at a good 6'1 or so, with a physique built from years of hard labour, constantly moving about, and tough times. His face is tanned by the unforgiving sun of the West, with well-defined cheekbones, and a jaw that is said to be able to bite through bullets. His

___

I'd be up for it.

Name: Jackdaw Arizona. Goes mostly by whatever 'codename' he thinks on the spot, at this point. Names aren't really important.
Age: Physically, 26. Feels a lot older.
Gender: Male
Faction: Wastelander
Special:
Strength: 5
Perception: 7
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 7
Luck: 7
Skills:
Guns [Major]
Repair [Major]
Sneak [Minor]
Survival [Minor]
Lockpicking [Minor]

Appearance: Relatively tall, but with a tough build that has been forced upon him due to years of running, fighting, and surviving, Jackdaw Arizona is a man that has definitely seen some shit. His skin is fair, neither pale nor tan, with an array of different scars dotting over his body. Most are covered by his clothing, with the only noticeable ones being the jagged scar tearing down his left forearm, from a failed disarming technique against a beefy raider, along with a scar that goes down his right jawbone - hidden by his mask, most of the time. His hair is short, dark, and shaggy, covered by his hat, and his eyes, a deep amber, covered by sunglasses. His choice of apparel is simple, yet efficient and tough, a mish-mash of efficiently-colored and durable material and clothing items that he has looted over time. His glasses are fitted with night-vision technology, looted off of an Enclave scientist after an ambush on one of their smaller outposts. The attack was during the night, and he only attacked due to a request from a travelling caravan, who claimed, truthfully, that the Enclave 'comandeered' most of their supplies. Simple infiltrate, assault, grab, and get the fuck out. He also has a Pip-Boy, looted off of a dead Vault-Member. Skulking around the old vaults was pretty smart, after all. [See image for apparel/appearance.]

Personality: If survival has taught Jackdaw anything, it has taught him that, to survive, you gotta be smart, you gotta be tough, and you gotta be brave. He has taken these qualities to heart, and although he isn't exactly role-model material, you can learn some survival tips by just watching him on a daily basis. A bit quiet, mostly due to the fact that he's a lone-wolf and spends most of his time thinking rather than speaking, Jack is a tough-skinned guy with a sharp brain, sharp eyes, and a pragmatic approach to the world. Practical and brutally efficient in what he does, Jackdaw is independent and determined to survive, which can make him seem ruthless to others. He does what he wants, on his own terms, and it all depends on what he's feeling at that moment. 

He's not one to show people his exterior emotions, and would rather get the problem taken care of rather than whine or throw a hissy fit. This means that he's not very patient with stupid people, and can, and will speak up or react with violence if the foolishness and dumbassery is too much. He has seen a lot, and will not hesitate to shoot down or take out anyone that threatens him or any of his companions at the time, although he has an inwardly good heart, and would prefer not to kill innocents - or as innocent as you can get in the wasteland. A flaw of his is Jackdaw's inquisitive nature. He keeps to himself most the time, but if his curiosity is disturbed tremendously, then he will pursue the subject until it's sated.

History: Raised as the son of two Wasteland Survivors, Jackdaw was brought up under the constant threat of kill or be killed, and his parents tried their damndest to make sure he was ready. He spent his early childhood defending their settlement from raiders or predators, or fixing and repairing different weaponry and machinery for the men and women of the settlement. As he grew older, and stronger and faster, he began to go out and scout/scavenge for supplies, fighting any dangerous enemies his squad met along the way. There was really no time for any childhood games and playing, and he had never really been interested in that stuff, anyways. On his way back from a solo scouting expedition, Jack saw smoke rising from his village, and he doubled his gait, arriving just in time to see the raiders executing one of the last few prisoners - his mother. The rest, after that, was a bit of a blur that he doesn't enjoy thinking about. 

He killed a few of them with his rifle, but was overwhelmed by numbers, and taken prisoner. A year as a raider's slave was hard, at the age of sixteen. At the age of seventeen, he had managed to escape with the help of a couple of other prisoners. They timed it just right, as the daily entertainment show was being started - he was thrown a spear, and a 10mm pistol with no ammunition, while the raiders released radscorpions, molerats, wolves, and wild dogs into the pit. 

He fought them off for as long as he could, until another prisoner - an accomplice, started the distraction. The woman shivved the raider announcer, which startled them enough for Jack to throw the spear into one of the guards' necks, and load the 10mm ammunition clip that he pickpocketed earlier that day, into the gun itself. Fighting their way out of the encampment was hard, but not impossible, and at last, as they made their way into the wasteland, the prisoners dispersed. Jackdaw became a wanderer, another face in the dust. His travels took him all over the place, and he became a man of many names, doing different deeds, for caps, for water, for weapons, for food, or just to do it. A bit of a mercenary/odd-job-worker/bounty hunter, all in one man.

Inventory:
Two combat knives, hidden in both boots.
SCAR - A self-modded Assault Carbine. Suppressed and fitted with a red-dot sight, the assault rifle uses classic 5.56 ammunition, with an extended clip and custom paint job. Can be used from mid to long range, and even efficient in close-range due to the clip. Has seen quite a few battles, and is kept in prime shape. Has a lot of different scars along the metal, which is where it's name came from. [Seen slightly in pic.]
One 12.7mm pistol, extended-clipped, holstered on his right hip.
Gloves are studded.
Has a few grenades strapped to utility belt.
Misc. items, such as bobbypins, stimpaks, water, food, repair items, etc. Stored within his rucksack.
Dirty Dan boo

Dirty Dan boo

Dirty Dan boo
