Sirus
{ ”You...haven’t the faintest clue...the things I have watched burn. I have seen the brightest cities turn to dust on the darkest nights. All the hate in this world is only keeping us in the dark." }- General Characteristics -
Willson Linus Banks
| { Nicknames } |Sirus
| { Age } |227
| {Male} || {Character Image} |A long time ago, one of the nicest children he’s ever met made a drawing of him, it was child-like, but it was one of the nicest things he experienced in a while...
| {Color} |00ff00
| {Appearance} |To call him an acquired taste would be...putting it lightly. Sirus is beyond scrawny, he looks like a tooth pick. Standing at exactly six feet tall, Sirus weighs roughly 110lb but he isn’t malnourished or anything like that. It’s just the radiation that turned him into a ghoul two hundred years ago. He may look like nothing but skin and bones, but everything you see is muscle, he’s still strong enough to hoist a heavy radstag over his shoulder. He just doesn’t look like it. Speaking of his skin, it’s an enigma. It’s hard to tell if his skin is rotting, glowing green, both, or burnt. If you ran your hands across his arm, you’d almost feel leather. Like paper that just won’t tear, it’s strange to say the least, but the strangest part is the fact that he’s glowing green. The softer parts of his body - his stomach, between his ribs, his eyes, his mouth - radiation a rich, neon green glow that lights up a pitch black room with ease. Sirus typically wears clothes to protect others from himself. Heavy clothes with pieces of lead in them. Lead lined gloves and shoes, that sort of thing. It covers up most of his body, especially when he throws on his Yao Guai hide
- Psychological Profile -
| {Personality} |
These days, Sirus. is a pacifist at heart. The past two centuries were filled with little more than hate, death, and pain. Sirus. through it all, and he wants absolutely nothing more to do with that. Sirus has no hate inside him for anyone. Not raiders, who do what they must to survive. Not Super Mutants, who lost control of themselves. Not for slavers, who have simply forgotten what it means to be free themselves. Sirus is a kind man, he has seen the worst in people, and it made it look for the worst in himself. He’s talked with few people in the last 200 years, but the ones who knew him will tell you that aside from the slight radiation, he cooks up a mean slab of radstag.
He is peaceful, he is welcoming, and often spends his nights pondering the world before the bombs. Thinking back on the old days, and the ones after. He’s been through a lot, more than anyone alive today can know. Sirus is a loyal friend. Though he may never get into a physical fight with anybody, he’s sure to be there for you no matter what. After all, it’s not like he’s running out of days any time soon. Sirus doesn’t interact with society much, if at all. At most, he watches travelers get scared by him, or try to shoot him. Thankfully, he hasn’t been shot anywhere vital, but that’s fine. Regardless, he knows that not everyone does, or even can look at things the way he does. Not everyone can just walk away from two centuries of sorrow and come out functioning. If anything, he’s the lucky one for making it this long as a glowing ghoul, so he of all people has no right to complain. Despite that, he welcomes people when they’re willing to be peaceful. He is the type to make peace before the guns ever come out. No one ever walks away intact from a fight.
| {Fears/Limitations} |Few things these days actually get under Sirus’ skin, not that he has much to get under, but he point is he’s very patient. Some scavenger doing through, looking for scrap parts puts a gun to his head because he’s never seen a glowing ghoul before? Seen it. Want some duct tape? A rabid dog is chewing up a carcass and it thinks Sirus is gonna steal it? Seen it. Just back away, take the scenic route. The problem for Sirus is his body. Being 200 years old, he doesn’t have much mass on him. He won’t be able to handle a fist fight with a super mutant, but he is still capable of throwing a big radstag over his shoulder and carrying it. Living on your own keeps you in shape.
The other big thing about his appearance is, well, his appearance. Being bald and a walking lightbulb doesn’t put the best first impression in one’s mind. His mellow and friendly nature only comes into play when people take a second to look past the fact that he is glowing green and that you can see his ribcage like an x-ray.
What are they afraid of most? Where do they fall short? Many times it is here that most of what makes a character is found, in the flaws and imperfections.
| {Place of Origin} |Prewar America. Sirus has wandered a lot since the bombs fell. He doesn’t much from those days, especially not about his home life.
| {Background} |Long ago, when the bombs first fell, a man named Willson was doing his damndest to outrun fate. Doing everything he could to run like hell, hoping to whatever god was listening that his car wouldn’t break down from the sheer speed he was going, he couldn’t even remember which road he went down. He still doesn’t. All he remembers is trying to outrun death.
In the end, he did.
Everything went black, days passed, blinding flashes, screams, bodies, all of it blurred together like a dream. He woke up feeling like every bone in his body had been broken, but he was still standing. Everything was a blur, he still can’t remember everything. He doesn’t know if it’s because he might have hit his head, or if it was the radiation, either way, Willson was alive, or at least...he felt like it. He woke up not knowing where on earth he was, nothing looked the same. Everything was flat. Everything was
dead. Why wasn’t he?
Willson spent what felt like months just wandering. Aimless. Mindless even. Who knew how long it would be until he saw some semblance of humanity left? The roads were shattered, his hands were emaciated and burned under the sun, nothing felt real. Nothing felt right. He hadn’t seen another person in what felt like a lifetime, the sky was dark, it was grey. Black clouds swirling with brown dust, it was cold. Nuclear winter. Nothing changed for months, nothing but the weather. Snow and tar covered the bodies, the roads, everything. The land was barren, all Wilson could do was watch as everything suffered with him. His body felt like it was atrophied, like he was sick and dying. He never once thought about the radiation. He couldn’t feel it. That was the last few months of 2077.
It wouldn’t be until 2083 that things started to feel normal. The smallest civilizations were whispered about only 6 years later. Of course, there was no such thing, since it was still so cold, and for this poor bastard, lonely. He had met a solid two people in six years. Both of them were terribly messed up. No hair, no skin, ragged voices...and he reminded them of themselves. He resembled them, he had trouble speaking, he hadn’t in so long, but he managed. They were shocked at his appearances his skin was black and glowing green.
He was a glowing one.
Many years later, in 2097, the cold began to disappear, and these are the memories that Sirus had that are the clearest. Wilson was living with the few people he could find, in a small clearing, in the remains of the Ohio countryside. They called it Haven. It was less than a mile of cobbled together huts, built up around a military checkpoint that had clean water. Most of the place was still dead from radiation, but the survivors knew Wilson was special, like his presence was some kind of gift, he could handle the radiation. The glow from his skin must’ve protected him. But it wasn’t all great, after all, no one would go near him. They were scared. The ominous glow was like a bomb about to go off to them. They just occasionally brought him scraps of food, which he didn’t look like he ever ate, since his ghoulish appearance betrayed him.
Despite living in this place, and having it easy compared to everyone else in the nuclear dark age, Wilson was broken inside. This wasn’t his body. This wasn’t his world. This wasn’t his home. Everything was wrong. These people had a basic amount of respect for the monster that helped them move radioactive waste from places, and would bring him table scraps. That’s not normal.
Days blurred together as he tried to make sense of everything, and he did. By not caring. Everything around Wilson was in ruin. Death. Hate. Anger. Violence. When Wilson left it all behind, he grew nihilistic, he didn’t care about getting rid of waste, he just left in the dead of night and let Haven rot. He was numb, he was cold. Broken. Even the name “Wilson” bothered him. He stayed like that for 60 years. The 2150s were the turning point of the ghoul named Sirus.
A group of survivors, in the ruins of New York, found Sirus living under a mound of collapsed walls, buildings turned to dust. They looked clean, they were inviting, they weren’t bothered by Sirus’ appearance, they simply welcomed him. They begged him to let them help. They didn’t want to watch a survivor live under rubble. Surely, they were joking. On the road he shambled down, he watched the world suffer. If these idiots were so kind, why didn’t they help everyone else?
That was his first mistake, to think the world could be helped. They took Sirus to a nearby town, it was beautiful. It was the closest thing to an actual town he had seen in almost a century. They called it Neptune. Neptune was thriving, and peaceful. Everyone was put off by the ghoul’s appearance, but they knew the darkness he was stuck in wasn’t violence, but numbness. A hole in his heart. Everyone ran on sight before, they dropped their guns and ran, he didn’t even have to tell them to fuck off. Sirus spent roughly 90 years full of confusion, contempt for others, and loneliness, until now. These people welcomed him, they taught him about ghouls like him, they told him they saw glowing ghouls, but they were what they called “Feral.” It dawned on Sirus that he was lucky, he could’ve been killed like a dog by now. Of course, that would’ve been preferable. Their kindness did things to Sirus, in fact, it
hurt. It hurt to be treated like a human, like he knew what he was, like
anyone knew what he was. Neptune was his home. Neptune brought something deep inside him back from nothingness, his humanity.
Sirus still wasn’t the person he is today, he was angry with the world. He spent the next 10 years warding off things from outside of Neptune’s walls, rural New York was a nightmare. Raiders were violent, and it took a toll on Sirus’ already damaged personality. The raiders and other monstrous people had tried for years to tear it up. Every time they would fail, it proved that there was hope, but it only pissed Sirus off. Nothing stopped him from going out there and just pulling his shirt off to microwave every fucking one of them, other than two people. Caten and Aster. His two closest friends. Caten was a tough girl, always had a shotgun at her hip. She had a benevolent boss attitude about her, but she was lovable. Aster was a survivor, just like Sirus, and a follower of the religion of Atom. A one armed, religious lancer with a machete, Aster was the type who you could go to for deep, mentally intimate advice.
“They ain’t worth it, Si. I’ll just blow ‘em away.” Caten always assured him that she’d have his back.
“Yes, trust me, Neptune’s walls have seen worse.” The one armed faithkeeper backed her words up every time between sharping his machete.
Those words still echo in his head. If Neptune’s walls were so strong, why was it so easy for the entire town to be burned to ash?
It was late, Caten was already in bed. Aster was praying before bed, like usual. Explosions rang out, waking everybody up.
Nothing was left before the hour was done. Sirus is the only one alive who remembers the story that happened next. He keeps the last words of his friends on a holotape, he has kept that same holotape for 130 years. Cherishing it, because it’s all he has left of the place that gave him back his humanity. After the incidents following, he wandered again for who knows how long. That’s all there is to this guy. He’s seen too much pain and suffering to hate anyone. He has never harmed a soul since Neptune was destroyed. And he swears on the graves of his best friends that he never will. This time, he wouldn’t kill his mind, he wouldn’t shove his thoughts into a corner. This time, he’s make peace with them. Sirus made peace with himself since then, he will never forget his past, he will never forget the way the world changed him, but he would never fall victim to rage. Rage is what caused everything. He would help everyone he can, he would never be angry with anyone. Wilson Banks was gone, now, there was only him.
There was only Sirus.
Now, he wanders the world, not full of sadness, but full of identity. He spent the next 130 years being a piece of the world, rather than trying to dissociate from it. This was peace.
- Survival Characteristics -
Who’s Hungry? : If it can be eaten, Sirus can cook it. He knows a few interesting recipes for making things taste right. Have you ever noticed that chewy, tar like take in radroach? You will when you start eating with Sirus, since he gets rid of it.
Hunter : Sirus knows how to hunt pretty well, he’s learned to cover the glowing parts of his body and kill animals quickly. He tries his best not to leave them in pain, and make it fast.
Ugly Diplomat : His peaceful and pacifist nature has pushed him to talk things through with people. Think of it like making a really intimidating character with 80+ speech. Granted, it’s hard when you’re glowing - literally, not figuratively, but when people are willing to listen to Sirus, he can talk things through in almost any situation.
Wanderer : Sirus is 200 years old. He’s been around the place. Sirus has been to various parts of the country. From the Capital Wasteland, to the Mojave. No place is his home.
| {Possessions} |Anything not directly related to combat, work on their person regularly or considered essential gear.
| {Combat Skills} |And here is where any skill your character may have that is either directly or indirectly related to combat would go.
| {Gear} |
Member
Forsythe
Cerera
tadcfnaf
Achronum
Zeus23
xVampire3go
Antlers
Morose
