[hider=Elijah Fowler]
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[b]Name:[/b] Elijah Fowler.
[b]Age:[/b] 45.
[b]Sex:[/b] M.

[b]Personality:[/b] Originally a very fiery and zealous individual, not to mention general dickweed of a human being, Elijah has managed to mellow out considerably over the years. Where he was once a hardcore believer in the Enclave's insane ideals of purity and world domination, the time he spent deployed in the wastes helped change him. Maybe not for the better exactly, but at the very least he's much less of an extremist now than he was before. He no longer considers the various humans inhabiting the world to be abominable mutants in need of elimination for instance, though he still bears a great deal of hatred for feral ghouls and super mutants alike, if not for their genetic deviation and degradation then for their erratic and dangerous behavior. Beyond that he's a very straightforward and simple man, one not easily intimidated or impressed at that due to all the shit he's seen, in search of an equally simple and straightforward life. One free of the shackles imposed by his sinful past. Whether or not he'll be able to keep the little slice of happiness he's found for himself here in Montana, or even find some form of redemption, remains to be seen.

[b]History:[/b] Born in the year 2242 sometime after the Enclave's decimation of Arroyo aboard the group's offshore oil rig, Fowler had a very strict upbringing thanks to the never-ending safety drills and security oriented entertainment the facility's populace had to partake in. This when combined with his father's service in the Department of the Army and his mother's position in Research and Development would instill a fiery zeal within the young boy regarding the Enclave's fascist and xenophobic ideology. Perhaps it was only natural for Elijah, then, that he would follow in his father's footsteps upon turning seventeen. Quickly making his way into and out of basic training, he found himself earning a spot in one of the Enclave's many vertibird assault teams. It was here that Fowler got his first taste of actual combat, an experience he found quite exhilarating at the time, unlike some of his more seasoned squadmates — many of whom viewed the firefights they engaged in as just another part of the job.

Elijah would see several deployments following this, up to and during the Chosen One's detonation of the oil rig's nuclear reactor. Like most staff that had been stationed or deployed elsewhere at the time, he had no idea of what had actually caused the tanker's destruction, not that it mattered much in the end. Thanks to the near total destruction of their senior command structure, Elijah and many others found themselves suddenly adrift. Unsure of where to go or what to do his father and mother—both of whom had been reassigned to Navarro a few months prior and thus avoided death at the hands of the Chosen One's machinations—heeded the call of President Eden, reuniting with the rest of the Enclave remnants as they made their way east to the ruins of Washington D.C. Fowler's squad did the same soon after, sensing that their prospects on the west coast were limited at best thanks to the staggering loss of power they once projected over the region. After rejoining the main force in Washington, being briefed on their current situation, and taking a moment or two to check in on his family, he soon found himself out on the frontlines yet again. Although this time it was to help secure the area around Raven Rock for continued operations.

This period of his life was not without struggle, however, though most of it was internal instead of external. Though he hid it well, the destruction of the oil rig and complete mess their forces had become in the aftermath had shaken his faith in what they were doing, and the missions he was sent out to complete in the Capital Wasteland only served to exacerbate the matter. He couldn't help but wonder if Eden was wrong in pursuing the complete annihilation of those humans who dwelt within the wastes, especially since the largest attempt they'd made thus far had ended in disaster. Fowler also began to question if those people he saw scraping by just to survive weren't worth saving as well. After all, the Enclave had touted itself as the final remnant of America's pre-War government, and if that truly was the case then were these dirt-stained scavengers not its citizens? Did they not have a right to it, and by extension his, protection? These feelings of doubt only grew in strength over the next couple of months, before ultimately culminating in a complete about face during the their conflict with the Brotherhood of Steel. Although he served throughout the entirety of that war—as did his parents, the two of them losing their lives in the process—he fled a short while after its conclusion.

Seeking asylum and a new lease on life, in addition to some time for introspection, he made his way back west; selling his services to various caravans in exchange for caps, transportation, and food to eat. Eventually he decided to settle down in Montana, specifically the town of Whitlash. Wanting to put some distance between himself and his past, Fowler stashed his power armor and weapons in a cave a few miles from the town itself, before finally settling down. He didn't necessarily interact with everyone in the settlement, or talk about his personal history all that much beyond the vague and the general, but he did pull his weight when it came to taking care of his new neighbors and friends — using his skills to help maintain some of the community's more irreplaceable implements, while also taking the occasional shift or two of guard duty as the need arose.

[b]Appearance:[/b] Salt and pepper locks along with a hard stare are the first things people tend to notice when they get a good look at Fowler, although this often requires they tilt their heads back a little first, as he's quite tall in comparison to the average person. Despite this he's altogether average when it comes to weight and build, not displaying physical strength greater than what you'd expect from a normal man. His eyes are a dull gray and his complexion weathered—dirty—while his hands are permanently stained by the grease and oil he employs to keep everyone's equipment functioning as it should.

[b][u]S.P.E.C.I.A.L[/u][/b]
[b]Strength:[/b] 5
[b]Perception:[/b] 6
[b]Endurance:[/b] 6
[b]Charisma:[/b] 5
[b]Intelligence:[/b] 5
[b]Agility:[/b] 7
[b]Luck:[/b] 5

[b][u]Skills & Perks[/u][/b]
Guns
Repair
Survival
Power Armor Training

[b][u]Armor & Equipment[/u][/b]
x10 Stimpacks
x50 .223 Rounds (FMJ)
x30 5.56mm Rounds
Caravaneer Outfit
x200 Caps

[b][u]Weapons[/u][/b]
x1 Hunting Rifle (Scoped)
x1 5.56mm Pistol

[b][u]Extras[/u][/b]
Prodding Elijah about his past is a great way to remove the stubbornest of teeth, as if they weren't loose before, they sure as hell will be by the time he's done.

Though Fowler lives on the eastern side of town his repair shop lies within its center for ease of access, and is typically open from sunrise to sunset. He tried keeping a stricter timetable in the beginning but quickly abandoned it for simplicity's sake and to avoid potential hassles such as scheduling conflicts.

Elijah temporarily closes up shop at noon to eat lunch.

Fowler is more than willing to make "house calls" as he jokingly calls them. Basically if something needs to be repaired, and that something just so happens to be on the other side of town for example, he'll pack up the tools he needs and head out to fix it. Depending on how vital the broken item in question is he may or may not charge a flat fee.
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