[hider=Moss, Elliot]
[b]Name:[/b] Elliot Moss

[b]Date of Birth:[/b] 26 August 2242

[b]Sex:[/b] Male

[b]Appearance:[/b] Elliot Moss is a truly large man. Taller than most with thighs and biceps as big around as saplings. His torso is thick in the chest and narrows into a lean, rippled stomach with the kind of definition achieved through years of hard work. These are not show muscles. Elliot is not a bodybuilder. Some say his father might’ve been a super mutant, though. Best keep that talk in the mess hall. 

Real dreamboat, right? Unlike Grognak the Barbarian, Elliot is a [i]real[/i] soldier. In his youth he would be described as average looking at best. A pronounced browline, a chiseled jaw, and a bit too much of an overbite to be conventionally beautiful. His eyes are open in narrow slits with small wrinkles spreading from the corners. He keeps his hair shaved to a fine stubble to hide the greys. While understandable, the look does nothing to hide the long scar running up the left side of his face.

[b]Place of Birth:[/b] New Jerusalem, Utah 

[b]Path:[/b] Knight

[b]Rank:[/b] Paladin

[b]Equipment:[/b] 
[list]
[*] T-60 Power Armor modified for fit
[*] A partial set of light combat armor (chest, helmet, legs)
[*] Basic Field Gear (three days of rations, first aid kit, etc.) on the lower back of his power armor
[*] Overcharged Laser Rifle modified for urban combat in D.C.
[*] An old .45 M1911 on the right thigh of his armor
[*] Three magazines (or cells) for each weapon
[*] A personal holotape acting as his field journal
[*] A handheld device to track BoS signals
[*] One signal grenade for the vertibird
[*] Holy Scripture
[/list]

[B]Notable Talents:[/B] 
[list]
[*] Highly Experienced: He’s among Elder Maxon’s paladins for a reason.
[*] Exceptionally Strong: Again, those muscles aren’t just for show.
[*] Infantry Background: Many years of experience have taught him much.
[/list]

[b]Laughable Failings:[/b] 
[list]
[*] Fighter, Not a Lover: You won’t meet a less charismatic or likable person.
[*] Recently Promoted: His first mission as a paladin is high-stakes and he’s feeling it.
[*] Holier Than Thou: Very few are ‘good enough’ in his mind, resulting in an extremely narrow way of viewing the world.
[/list]

[b]Personality:[/b] New Jerusalem still burns in his worst nightmares. Elliot believes his home was lost due to a lack of dedication to God. He measures all fortune with how one’s actions align with the Holy Scripture. While few among the Brotherhood of Steel are New Caananites, Elliot does believe the organization is following the path. When members stray from the Brotherhood’s ideals he considers this both an affront to the organization, but his faith, and considers them a liability. For Elliot following the chain of command is akin to following God.

Elliot is in a constant struggle to follow the New Canaanite teachings. His interpretations are skewed and quick to justify violence, often justifying these actions with the wars the wandering Hebrews conducted while looking for a land of their own. It’s a way of thinking that can become so intense that others in the Brotherhood have become uncomfortable. Rarely does this side of him let up. The only time Elliot seems ‘human’ is when he’s settled into worship. At these times he is a softer, kinder man. If only that lasted longer. 

[b]Short Background:[/b] Elliot was too young to remember the fall of New Jerusalem. He’s heard the stories, though. The kind told as a means to teach a lesson rather than record an actual history. Those lessons left him with the belief that a failure to follow the New Canaanite ways led only to ruin. It’s an idea that has shaped him ever since.

The Moss family fled from New Jerusalem along with the Living Prophet and other survivors. They helped settle New Canaan where young Elliot was baptized, his only memorable interaction with the prophet. Life in the town wasn’t for everyone, especially after the prophet died, but the Moss family stayed. They had a child to think of and while this community was small, it was also safe. This decision would prove fruitful.

By the time Elliot became a teenager New Canaan was growing. Conflict between the New California Republic and the Brotherhood of Steel sent refugees into the area looking for shelter. Of course, the New Canaanites did what they could. Most were appreciative, others caused trouble. Elliot made keeping the peace a personal mission. Thanks to his size these fights usually ended in his favor. His work to help the community did not go unnoticed. A group of New Canaanites banded together to form a militia to defend the town and Elliot was one of the first invited to join them. 

Now, New Canaan continued to grow into a thriving trade hub. A land so prosperous that Elliot felt a bittersweet joy, for his part in it had come to an end. A man grown, he set off with a group of missionaries to the east in search of new ways to promote the faith. The journey was long and harrowing. It took nearly two years,  but eventually he arrived in Washington, D.C. It was a wild place far removed from the One True Way, yet among all the waste and corruption one group proved worthy -- [i]The Brotherhood of Steel[/i]. 

Elliot saw the Brotherhood as an Army of God and technology a product of evil. He used much of his time in the Capital Wasteland to learn about the ideals, only hardening his view. When the other missionaries prepared to leave, Elliot revealed that he’d seen a vision, that it was God’s will he stay. The decade that followed saw the God-fearing warrior grow into a fierce soldier. His dedication and prowess in the field earned respect from above and, recently, a position as one of Elder Maxon’s Paladins. 
[/hider]

[hider=Algarín, Owen]
[b]Name:[/b] Owen Booker Algarín, or “Book”

[b]Date of Birth:[/b] 11 September 2256 (28 years old)

[b]Sex:[/b] Male

[b]Appearance:[/b] You won’t notice Owen Algarín for his size. While not short, he is certainly [i]shorter[/i] than many that seem to flock to the Brotherhood. He has broad shoulders and shapely arms, both of which are a bit soft from his largely sedimentary line of work. His legs are more defined, if only the Brotherhood rethought their positions on shorts. 

Again, it’s not his physique that will capture your attention. Owen Algarín came from a very different background than most in the Brotherhood. There, successes and rites of passage were celebrated with tattoos and hairstyles. Owen retains these attributes. His deep black hair is woven into thick dreadlocks that hang down to his shoulders and are often tied back by one of the locks. He has a small swirling pattern tattooed over his left eye and several more symbols on his arms, shoulders, and chest. All his tattoos are in black ink, which can be difficult to make out against his dark tan skin unless you’re standing a few yards away. These tattoos have a vaguely familiar quality to them even if the original meanings are lost to time.

[b]Place of Birth:[/b] Olympia, Northwest Commonwealth

[b]Path:[/b] Scribe

[b]Rank:[/b] Senior Scribe

[b]Equipment:[/b] 
[list]
[*] A leatherbound journal and pens
[*] Basic Field Gear (three days of rations, first aid kit, etc.)
[*] A 10mm tactical pistol
[*] A small .38 caliber revolver for emergencies
[*] Ammunition (5x extended magazines of 10mm and 4x speed loaders of .38)
[*] Old world maps of the area, waterproofed
[*] Field scribe fatigues with light helmet and attached light
[*] Partially restored pre-war multitool
[*] Self-assembled repair kit
[*] One brahmin leather backpack 
[/list]

[B]Notable Talents:[/B] 
[list]
[*] Learn From the Past: Turns out all those history books can teach you a lot about how people work. Never change humanity.
[*] Lay of the Land: A sharp mind paired with research skills makes him your best bet at navigating places unknown.
[*] An Old Soul: Right at home in pre-war places, he’s quick to pick up on secrets of the past.
[/list]

[b]Laughable Failings:[/b] 
[list]
[*] Grognak He’s Not: Soldiers aren’t always rough and tumble, just ask anyone who’s served with Owen.
[*] Lasers, Gauss, and Other Magic: If you want him to “use” an energy weapon, it better be some kind of grenade.
[*] Skeletons in the Closet: Loss. Burned bridges. An entire life left behind. Some blazes still burn bright.
[/list]

[b]Personality:[/b] 
Quiet, thoughtful, and a little dour. The kind who doesn’t throw themselves into the center of the fun, or even keep up with long-time teammates. It’s hard for him. A real drain on his energy, like trying to keep up with the knights in the Pyrdwen’s gym. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel, though. Actually he finds affection for just about everyone on the team. Everyone has their positives, he says to himself, and he might even tell you yours. His words are sweet, so hope for that. But most of the time you’ll find him working away, hunched over dusty tomes or recreating some pre-war relic. 

Everyone finds their own way to cope. For some the chems help soften the sharp points of the world and for others it's the booze that soften the edges. Owen prefers to smoke. Not the crumpled packets of pre-war cigarettes traders peddle, but an herb with a more calming effect. Most assume it's the former, though. They don’t know how it eases the nerves forever tensed since the death of his son. How it helps him forget the lonely nights after his husband devoted himself entirely to his work (leaving Owen so alone that he wondered if he had died as well). He doesn’t push his luck. Owen rolls a little herb outside, looking over the railing of the Pyrdwen. 

He forgets and finds himself in those small, quiet hours.

[b]Short Background:[/b]
[hider=Youth] The Pacific Northwest Commonwealth is a cold place. Winters run long with radiation storms far wetter and more dangerous than elsewhere, though they typically occur in the fall. It’s better where the land is owned by the old forests. Spared from nuclear fire, these lush wilds not only provide shelter from the storm, but also do much to reduce their radioactive bite. It’s a lesson taught to the children. [i]Where there’s trees, there’s home.[/i]

Olympia is wild. Once a state capitol, it’s now a loose community hidden from the world in somewhat preserved buildings from pre-war times. While the area has scars from that fateful day two centuries ago, the chaos and disorder that followed had more effect than any atomic or nuclear ordinance. 

Owen was fortunate enough to be born into the community after recent conflicts settled.  A paramilitary raider group from the air force base to the east had threatened them. He grew up hearing stories about the raids. Heroes within the settlement had taken to hidden perches in the trees, defending the people like the very heavens had opened up in their time of need. That left Owen with a resounding sense of hope, admiration, and that someone would be there to help.

As a young man, Owen earned the nickname ‘Book’. One of the hidden benefits to Olympia’s survival is its access to old knowledge, including libraries, books, and even the long-abandoned colleges nearby. While exploring these places meant leaving the safety of Olympia’s walls, Book and his friends decided early on that the risk made the reward that much sweeter. They’d brave the wildlands surrounding the settlement, either avoiding or scaring off the mutated creatures lurking in the forests, then would get comfortable in the safety of some old college library. Owen’s personal favorite was Evergreen State. [/hider]
[hider=Love] Traders began picking up on signs that some still lived in the Pacific Northwest Commonwealth. They came from Arroyo mostly, though the odd New Canaanite was known to try their hand at uprooting the so-called “tribal beliefs” of the people (always fruitlessly, mind you). 

A caravan selling all sorts of technological scrap rolled through one day. The rugged white lab coats caught Owen’s attention first. They called themselves Followers of the Apocalypse, but Owen only cared about one of them. A young man his age, tanned by weeks on the road, tall and slender and eyes that smiled before he burst into laughter. Both of them felt it. Owen followed him back to Arroyo, then further east onto the edges of New California. They settled on a dusty little farm and took in a young orphan as their own. And for a while it was bliss.

Caesar’s Legion struck their home. It wasn’t only them, Owen knew that, but he imagined his relationship had earned a special kind of resentment from those backwards brutes. It was meant to be a warning, the NCR said. They must be strong. The republic said nothing about the damages to their farm. Offered no apology for the loss of their child. After that his husband became more distant. Threw himself into longer missions with the Followers while Owen wallowed in his own depression at the farm. In his state of mind, the stories on the radio about the Brotherhood attacking the NCR brought a strange kind of satisfaction. Like a come-uppance for the republic’s failure to stand up and protect its people. [/hider]
[hider=Duty] Owen sought out the Brotherhood. Listened to every story, read every newspaper, and studied every old map he could find. He reasoned that any military force worth its salt would seek out their pre-war ancestors. Even more likely if that force obsessed with finding old tech. So he began to explore abandoned bunkers, bases, and other fortified places. The risk didn’t matter -- [i]dying[/i] didn’t matter. After three weeks he found them. It took several more before they gave Owen a chance. 

The outpost needed knights. Despite his better judgment, Owen agreed to fill the void. He followed the paladin in charge out to an old road blocked off by super mutants. Tasked with helping clear the way and too foolhardy to trust his gut, Owen rushed in knowing full well this was his chance to prove himself. He was carried out barely able to breathe.

A sledgehammer to the chest is more than enough to kill a man. Such had been proven countless times before. And yet Owen managed to survive the encounter. What armor the Brotherhood had provided, which was precious little, had done enough to keep him whole and the key bits intact. Enough for the senior scribe to stabilize him and the Brotherhood’s access to medicine to put him on the road to recovery. A road that introduced Owen to another path to serve the Brotherhood. 

Healing consumed the better part of a year. Part way into the process Owen began assisting the senior scribe where he could. Research and other mental work at first, then using that to create usable intelligence. Once he recovered the senior scribe sent Owen east with a handful of knights. The trip, while long and arduous, allowed Owen the chance to restore some measure of his endurance. A good thing too, as arriving to the Capital Wasteland introduced a whole new world.

Constant drills and low-level missions to retrieve technical documents filled his time. While others disappeared, put off by too many menial tasks, Owen persisted. Thrived, even. As a scribe he could use his strengths to protect and serve. To provide the kind of information that could help save lives (something Owen increasingly felt compelled to do). More than anything else this personal drive has led to his success in the Brotherhood.[/hider]
[/hider]