Foster — Roleplayer Guild

Thomas "Twombly" Watson

”Storytelling is the essential human activity. The harder the situation, the more essential it is.”
~Tim O'Brien


Age: 29
Occupation: Mechanic/handyman, moonlights as a gun-runner/smuggler.
Race: Maned Wolf (techincally some sort of racoon/dog/panda thing)
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 1" (684 cm) minus ears, add 3" (7 cm) for ears.
Weight: 143 pounds (65 kg)

Descriptive Appearance:
Twombly dresses in a workmanlike appearance, practical, well-worn, and comfortable. When working in his shop, his hands are constantly coating in a grease or grime of some sort or another; he makes a point to wash it out before going anywhere special, best not to leave any fingerprints.

As a maned wolf, he is mostly legs and arms, with a surprisingly flexible neck that in conjunction with his various postures and facial expressions, tell a very wide and easily read range of emotions. That is of course assuming you aren't just fixated on watching his tail.


Personality:
* Confident, some may say too confident
* No sense of personal space
* Flirtacious with anything that moves
* Mischevious and easily bored
* Kleptomaniac (beware of any unattended loose articles of clothing, keys, food, cigarrettes, or firearms)
* Reclusive (see notes)

Quirks:
Due to being unable to hear people coming behind him, Twombly has a tendancy to search for reflections or shadows to indicate a person's presence. Rendering their attempts at surprising him mostly-moot to the unwary.

Except in a dark room. Then anything and everything surprises him. Note: do not announce yourself by turning out the lights in his workshop.

Enlisted in 1943 and was then shipped out to the Pacific theater of operations just as the war began to die-down in preparation for the invasion of Japan. After their surrender, Twombly was stop-lossed to occupy some backwards southeast asian peninsula until late November 1946, and felt a bit crummy about not being allowed to vote that particular year. On the upside the extra few months and the rapid retirement of his commanding-officers meant a few last-second promotions and hardly any oversight of the motor-pool. So long as he didn't make too much noise...

Hence how he managed to bag a contract (to himself) to "repair" a tank meant for the French occupation forces, with a few "modifications" that were suggested by his unit (likely in jest). Of course, the French later didn't want that particular vehicle, so now he's stuck with it in his garage with nobody willing to buy it.

Which is how he casually ventured from being that quiet guy that was good with tools into a gun-runner for hire (using the tank [actually an M8 greyhound] he absolutely cannot find a buyer for as his credentials).


Specialization: Wind
School of Magic Attended: Alteration
Primary Deity Worshiped: Meifeng

Permanent Sacrifice: Y
Deity Sacrifice was made to: Meifeng
Reason behind Sacrifice: Being able to sneak into places without tripping alarms, or rather, not letting anyone hear the alarms he trips over.
What was Sacrificed: Over half of his hearing


Equipment:
A very ridiculously bright (and heavy) flashlight

Weapons:
Sawed-off double-barrel shotgun (silent)
M1A1 Para-Carbine (very silent)

Other:
After sacrificing most of his hearing in order to sneak up on people, he has so often found himself victim to being snuck upon that he has generally become reclusive from any unfamiliar places.

Well, if the MiG-31 pilot takes a pressure-suit, it can take nearly forever to get ready, since to put that on you've gotta strip down to your skivvies, and find an extra set of hands to pack your meaty frame into it.
-Or the pressure suit is Lonnie's skivvies, in that case getting ready is pretty quick and simple.

Seems the latter case usually happened if one expected to be on-alert for that day, stripping-out soon as you got off.

Which brings about the problem of pilot-hygiene during sustained high-intesity operations. (which during the cold-war, also had to consider the possibility of fields being chemically contaminated and/or irradiated)
-Which is about when the US Air Force unvieled the "poopy-suit".

Also: MiG-25 as a ground attack jet:
"As the bombs would weigh no more and incur no more drag than its regular load of R-40 missiles, its performance was not impaired, leading to some impressive bombing feats; when released at an altitude of 20,000m (66,000 ft) and a speed above Mach 2, a [normal] 500 kg bomb would have a glide range of several tens of kilometres"

Blyat. MiG-23 wanna try.

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