[hider= Damien][b]Name:[/b]
 Damien Holland

[b]Age:[/b]
 Dirty Thirties

[b]Gender:[/b] 
What do you think?

[b]Occupation:[/b] 
Surviving dad.

[b]Sexuality:[/b] 
Women.

[b]Nationality:[/b] 
Not from round here.

[b]Race:[/b]
 I'm a ghoul -- are you blind? Human.

[b]Karma:[/b]
 Done some bad shit, just trying to do some right now.

[b]Faction Allegiance:[/b]
 None

[b]Appearance:[/b]
 [img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a6/90/01/a69001f8813455f0dc31c77775d659ee--character-concept-art-fantasy-characters.jpg[/img]
*Minus the swords

[b]Skills:[/b]
 Small guns, sneak, medicine, outdoorsman. 

[b]Brief History:[/b]
 
Damien didn't always roam the wasteland endlessly with a kid, in truth, she isn't even his flesh and blood. For most of his life, Damien ran with a homegrown pack of raiders, other guys, and one girl, all around his age give or take a few years. Having grown up with them their escapades began at a relatively early age, for himself, fifteen. How or why they came around to doing what they did doesn't much matter now.

By his late twenties, their once clandestine group had dwindled, losing a couple of members -- not to death, in fact the entire group living this long was probably a feat in itself. [b]The Lucky 7s[/b], as they had come to be called, were now just five although somehow this never warranted a name change. 

Tommy had just upped and left one night out of the blue at some dingy campsite they'd come across a half day's walk from Diamond City, presumably he had enough and wanted out. Damien would be lying if he told you it had not angered him, a great deal, he cursed him, wished him dead and for a brief period wanted to kill Tommy himself. Reflecting on it, he'd tell you he feels differently now. The next to leave was Sam, the groups femme fatale, and she might just have been the only woman he ever loved. Things were different after that, the remaining members stayed around for a couple more years, before eventually dispersing. They each had a story for where they were going, but who knows how it turned out, for all Damien knows he could be the last.

For nearly a decade he traveled the wastes, settling down for a short while here and there, namely smaller settlements scattered between the Commonwealth and Nevada, even spending a bit of time living in the New Vegas Strip. After outstaying his welcome there, Damien simply skipped town, making off with caps, notes and chems from a street peddler after abandoning an original, foolish idea to take on the casino on his own for it's worth. Off into the sunset went the one lucky bandito with his spoils, probably laughing hysterically. Some would say, for every action there's a reaction, and others would tell you that at some point, your luck just dries up. Robbed, beaten and left for dead by a group of Jackals raiders, not far from the Strip. The story would have ended here if a travelling group of NCR soldiers had not passed or not shown their good will in dragging Damien to the NV medical clinic.

Eventually, and for no particular reason, Damien ventured for the Capital Wasteland, after coming round and having being patched up. One night, somewhere in the Texas Commonwealth, Damien came across a pre-war storm cellar he planned on sleeping in for the night when he met Julia. She was no older than seven or eight but couldn't recall her age, for that matter she couldn't recall much at all or perhaps, Damien thought, she chose not to. Peering past a sheet of metal partitioning the toilet from the living space he spotted it, two corpses, recent and it didn't take a doctor to figure out it was an overdose. One look at the used chems scattered around immediate vicinity was enough to tell you that. The parents, he felt nothing for, they were like any other dead wasteland junkie. There was a difference between using chems and letting them consume you to Damien's mind.

They didn't stay in the make-shift bunker that night, he wasn't sure what it was that made him take the young girl, who called herself Julia, but he knew now that the child was his ward. Maybe it was a sign, or maybe not wanting to admit to some subconscious guilt making him believe there was a sign, or some purpose, Damien dwelled on it a lot and remains to. The girl didn't say much, Damien was sure he had heard her mumbling to herself at play, but truthfully, had no idea if she could speak any more than a few words and even then, seldom few. The pair have been together since, she called him dad once recently, he liked that. 

[b]Other:[/b] 
 Carries a snub nose 44 revolver and a machete.[/hider]