[hider=Roman]
Name: Roman Asimov
Nickname: "Troll" 
Age: 30
Gender: Male

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[img]https://www.nimbacreations.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/image.jpg[/img]
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       Appearance/personality:

Tall quiet and strange. A few words to describe the silent wanderer. With a voice reminiscent of a machine and a helmet he swears is fused with his skin. Most that come across the weird man would swear he's a robot. While others think he is some kind of fraud, trying to swindle their dearest possessions. For the few that have seen him take apart his helmet or seen his scarred and deformed skin and face. Surgical scars also litter his body often running along his skeletal structure. Have grown to call him a Troll. Their words further alienating the man.

Normally wearing whatever pieces of cloth and armor he can find. The man has grown accustomed to fashioning his own clothes and armor. Weapons are also something he fashions together from whatever scraps he can find. Preferring bladed weapons over others. One will often find him quietly sitting alone slowly sharpening and cleaning his blades.

Most of what little possession's he has, are tucked neatly away in a leather back pack. Tools, food, notebooks, and other supplies fit for a wasteland wanderer. One of the stranger things he carries with him is an old leather bound bible. He has found differing opinions on whether people still worship their old god. Personally he doesn't believe in such things. However, he has found that others do and some passages from the old book still comfort them.

But none of this is to say he is a mute. Far from it. He enjoys helping others with his skills in electrical and biomolecular engineering. Normally with the latter of the two. As he often finds the availability of a lab, troublesome. Enjoying the stories and ideas that others have compared to his own. Normally he doesn't ask for much in return for his services. Just enough to get by. All he wants is friends and to survive the ever growing wasteland of earth. Even through the face of adversity, he remains fiercely loyal to the few friends he has.

      Profile:

Roman was born to a middle class family in the industrial district of St Petersburg Russia. His early childhood days were spent having fun and playing with friends. However, when he was ready for school he was sent off to a military school like many others. These schools weren't meant to teach civilians but train soldiers from a young age. Roman would remain at this school and excel until he turned 16.

When he graduated he had a choice, join up with the rest of his class that he spent the last 8 years with or join up with applied sciences. For him the choice was simple, the boy found it difficult to form lasting bonds with people and as such joined up with the scientists with applied sciences.

The next 10 years where fruitful but not without their cost. He had studied in multiple different engineering fields. Sticking in particular with electrical and biomolecular engineering but favoring electrical engineering for its versatility in the world. He learned fast and in time was promoted to the primary test pilot for the facility.

It was in one such venture that he suffered his first critical failure and injury with only 7 years under his belt. Although many of the tests they ran on the experimental equipment was dangerous, this one proved almost deadly. It was supposed to be a new engine for space faring vehicles. A new more powerful perpetual generator. However, while he was performing minor adjustments to its housing someone started the machine. This normally wouldn't be a problem but this time they also removed the safety features. He can only remember bits and pieces of what happened next. Mostly fire.

Whoever had started it, was apparently showing off to some unscheduled top brass that was touring the facility. Roman still thinks they were lucky. The resulting explosion could have been much worse and killed a lot of people. The next few months turned into a blur of pain killers, skin graphs, and surgeries. He does remember one night in particular when he signed something that allowed the scientists to test some new technology on him. “Just a few things” is what he remembers the other man saying.

The next time he woke up, he was still in pain. However, somehow he felt better. His broken limbs, although scarred and bandaged seemed to be put back together. The man no longer needed a ventilator to breath, his damaged eyesight seemed to be repaired, and he got his voice back. But it was alien to him. Sure it said the words he was trying to say but sounded more robotic. Like a computer.

Before too much longer, he was given the general rundown of what experimental procedures they did to him. Grafted a new plasteel polymer in the shape of a helmet with a removable face mask to his skull. This would in turn fix his cracked skull, but they admitted to being unable to return his face to what it once was. This polymer was also grafted to most of his broken bones. Roman was also given several treatments to repair and regrow his damaged organs and muscle tissue.

Training with these new augments continued after this for the next 3 years. They were training him to become some sort of super soldier. or at least the first generation of them. Roman was allowed to train with and become Russian Special Forces. That was until he turned 26 and the announcement of the global evacuation came about. With the relocation of supply's and resources his program was eventually dropped. Roman found himself like many other soldiers, lost with no leadership that could give a direct order.

In time, the man eventually left the military. No one seemed to care anymore anyways. He proceeded east away from the more heavily populated areas and across the Siberian tundra. He picked up English while he moved from town to town heading for the tunnel that bridged the gap between the North American continent and the Eurasian one. Roman didn't have a plan. There was nowhere to go. The Russian simply wandered, moving through what was left of the old world. 
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