[center] [img]https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTM9OtqVe_Rc56IpAWrtZo_k-KejGSn2vMsWg&usqp=CAU[/img] [color=red]Sarah Sinclair "The Ghost of Anchorage"[/color] [/center] Name: Sarah Sinclair "The Ghost of Anchorage" Age: 26 Gender: Female Height: 5'8 Weight: 134lbs Motto: "Words have power." Appearance: Born and raised in the cold of the Alaskan wastelands, Sarah has incredibly pale skin which is often plagued by egregious sunburn when she journeys further south into mainland America. Her hair is a muddied dark brown, with striking hazel eyes set in their angled sockets. A pair of large, jagged scars runs perpendicular from each other across her cheek, staring at the bridge her nose and bottom lip, to the right hand side of her face. Equipment: In terms of ranged weaponry, Sarah carries with her a retrofitted Colt Navy, which has been rechambered in .44 magnum and features a built in block suppressor and laser sight. Whenever she has been questioned about this weapon, she merely signs "Charlotte." and refuses to elaborate any further. In addition to this, she makes use of a scoped Type 24 Chiang Kai-shek sniper rifle. Which belonged to her father. For when things get up close and personal, a large curved machete is her weapon of choice and she is almost never seen without one on her person. Pre-war Chinese issue military backpack Water Flask 12 feet of paracord Brotherhood of Steel Holotag Three sachets of vegetarian instant ramen 1 cast iron cooking pot Tinderbox Past Affiliations: Brotherhood of Steel. Likes: Virgil, Charlotte, Nuka Cola, Ramen, The Brotherhood of Steel, Ghouls. Dislikes: People, Alcohol, The Sun, Music. Key Character Traits: Sarah is seemingly mute, whether caused by trauma or she simply chooses not to speak; Sarah Sinclair instead communicates through sign language. With her trusty companion bot "V.I.R.G.I.L" translating her communique into words. Background: Born in the harsh, frozen wastes of Anchorage, Alaska to nomadic parents. Her father, descended from Chinese soldiers whom were stationed in Alaska when the bombs from both sides fell in the frozen north, and an American mother. The wastes of Alaska were unforgiving, even by post-war standards. With very little in the way of clean water available across the entire state, she and her parents would often be forced to trek across the nuclear tundra and into Little America in order to trade fangs, antlers, pelts and meats for ammunition and water. It was a near never ending cycle, hunting two headed Caribou and fending off the gargantuan mutant wolves known to the Alaskan wasters as Langshen. Before harvesting what they could from the beasts and making the trek once again. Sarah had supposed she had made this journey some forty times before she was even a woman, but it was on the day of her seventeenth birthday that for the first time, she had begun to question her family's way of life. Her parents had always forbidden her to speak with any of the settlers, their lives were that of nomads, and outsiders could never understand them. Or their way of life. The reverse, was also true. So what was the point of interacting with such people beyond what was necessary? This had always been his narrative. And it had always made sense. That was, until that day. There had been a ghoul merchant by the name of Handsome Jack, whom she would often take her share of their wares to in the capital of Little America. The ghoul had obviously taken a platonic liking to the young girl whilst they had bartered back and forth over the years; as she had also to him. Although due to Sinclair being barely capable of speaking English, the language barrier had been quite the hurdle. Yet, the two managed to overcome the issue over time through his teaching her of American Sign Language. Which she took to as though it were natural to her. Eventually, her father discovered the friendship the young womam had formed with Jack and heavily chastised her for the entirety of their journey back into Alaska. Threatening that should she wish to live like a sheep and merely await death in a pen as the settled tribesmen do, that he would happily leave her to such a fate the next time. This set a fury into Sarah's heart, and still in possession of her father's rifle, stormed off back towards the border. Abandoning both her father and mother. Though, she had not thought very far ahead in her anger. Whilst she was an experienced tracker, and marksman; her father had always been the one to build their shelters. To light their fires. As the black of night began to creep over the Alaskan wasteland, Sarah Sinclair began to realise her mistake. Panic set in, and with great haste she made her way back the way she had came, forgetting all she had been taught to never travel at night, lest she fall prey to the even nastier beasts that hunted in the night time of her homeland. What could be more terrifying than the Langshen? One might ask, but that was a very simple answer. Much like anywhere in the world, Alaska was plagued by the dreaded Deathclaws. However unlike most other places, those in the north were Nocturnal, and their frosted black hides made them impossible to spot in the bitter cold darkness. The young woman had succumbed entirely to terror, sprinting in bursts with no regard for her stamina or noise profile. Chasing down her parents' tracks in the night. Although her eyes were highly adaptive to the night, as all Alaskan wasters were, without a source of light she may as well have been blind to her surroundings, operating purely on instinct. It was in that moment, that she was set upon by a nightmarishly large Deathclaw. It's eyes a burning crimson against the black of night. With a single strike across her person: her right orbital, her jaw and her right shoulder were all broken, and Sarah was certain that she was as good as dead. And the Asian-american would have been, had it not been for the timely intervention of her parents. Her father leapt onto the beast's back, slamming his ice pick into it's head to latch himself to the monster, and repeatedly shoving his knife into it's neck, causing it to begin wildly flailing and bucking, attempting to remove the man from it's back. But to no avail. As the chaos, and frankly idiocy of her father attempting to single handedly kill an Alpha Deathclaw continued, her mother dragged the mortally wounded Sarah away from the fight, before heading back to aid her husband. Letting loose arrow after arrow into the Deathclaw's chest. Though, any whom know the monstrosity of these creatures, knows that such wounds are nothing to them. Eventually, her father was dismounted, being crushed between an ice cliff and the creature's back. Killing him instantly. Her mother fared no better, being swatted aside like a fly not long after. Profusely bleeding and barely able to move, Sarah had managed to prop her rifle up on her knees, using her left hand to wield it. The second she was able, she pulled the trigger. The round sunk deep into the Deathclaw's skull, but even still the behemoth lumbered forward. Sarah had thought for certain this would be her death. But as she closed her eyes and awaited death, the spooling of miniguns whirred in the distance, accompanied by the blinding searchlights of a Vertibird. The weapon roared to life, ripping the heavily wounded Deathclaw to shreds. Moments later the aircraft landed, and three figures clad in T-51b power armour. She had been saved by the Anchorage chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. [color=red]-REDACTED: FURTHER AUTHORISATION REQUIRED FOR THIS DOSSIER-[/color] It had not been long before she had found herself promoted to Paladin after a period of time in the Scribes. With Virgil speaking on her behalf. A young woman now, and a member of Task Force Delta; a group dedicated to the clearing of Feral Ghoul infestations. Sarah Sinclair would participate in multiple operations until the Maxon reforms in 2287, having gained extensive experience in the operation of the T-51 Ultracite pattern power armour. Due to the airborne nature of Task Force Delta, she would be reassigned to the Lancers and given the rank of Lancer Sergeant. Her relative skill with computer interfaces thrusting her to the helm of her own bird and away from her friends. She didn't fly for long after the reforms, her bird was shot down during a raider tribe incident on the border of Anchorage. It was here that [color=red]-REDACTED: FURTHER AUTHORISATION REQUIRED FOR THIS DOSSIER-[/color] her trusty revolver at her side she [color=red]-REDACTED: FURTHER AUTHORISATION REQUIRED FOR THIS DOSSIER-[/color] In the aftermath of the Anchorage incident, Sarah was transferred to the Citadel in the Capital to work as a scribe once more. It was here that she became disillusioned with her future and the Brotherhood. One day, she simply had enough and set out into the wasteland on her own. Building relative rapport in the NCR, especially among the ranks of First Recon. It's alleged that she has been providing the division and Rangers support. Although such things are simply hearsay. [color=red]-REDACTED: FURTHER AUTHORISATION REQUIRED FOR THIS DOSSIER-[/color] SPECIAL: 42 points from Zero. You were chosen for this mission for one reason, you're SPECIAL. Always remember that. Strength 4 Perception 7 Endurance 5 Charisma 3 Intelligence 6 Agility 8 Luck 9 Skills: 285 From Zero. Min-maxing is not banned, however I will highly discourage it. Folks who aren't well rounded, one way or another; typically don't tend to last too long in the wasteland. Consider that your first, and final warning. Barter 10 Energy Weapons 5 Explosive 14 Guns 53 Lockpick 35 Medicine 10 Melee Weapons 10 Repair 15 Science 31 Sneak 35 Speech 15 Survival 43 Unarmed 10 Theme Song: [URL=https://youtu.be/lrHEjAdvjqU]White Glove[/url] V.I.R.G.I.L. Vocalisation and Interpretation Robot, Given in Love Virgil is a heavily modified EyeBot, complete with a stealth field generator. It's primary function is to translate Sarah's sign language into speech. He speaks with a cartoonish, posh pre-war British accent. Although it's apparent that Virgil can use other voices, it seems to choose this voice to amuse it's master. The name on Virgil's vocal setting is listed as "Marvin the Martian." It seems to lack any form of armament, and exclusively serves reconnaissance and translation purposes.