Maxx

The Reckoning of Lesser Men

Nevermind.

Anyways, strategy time. Tamba is probably just going to do whatever Danny and Catherine do (depending on who has the higher charisma if they split up). Personally, I think the recon team should go for the camp. I mean, there's no point in going out of your way to fight more soldiers and possibly extract a corpse. Cromwell will probably attempt to use the comms to help the rescue team patch belroth up, but neither of the two have high medicine and he can't exactly see what's going on. Moore will obviously stay with the mission team and go extract the prisoner, since he will probably need medical attention.

The Reckoning of Lesser Men

Hello, people. Sorry for my absence; my computer was badly damaged and I had to get it repaired. I'm really sorry for fucking you guys over like that.

City of Gold OOC

What's up peoples. I'm back. Second act will be up tomorrow evening.

City of Gold OOC

Ok. Good.

Just a heads-up, guys; the first act is about to end.

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

I think by "drone" he mean, like, air drones. UAV ground troops are still (for some reason) a little out of the picture in modern combat.

City of Gold OOC

Ivan

"Yeah, I can think of a few nice place." Ivan said as Baron examined the car. Ivan walked over out of the umbrella and over to the car, leaving Dr.Wright behind. It sure was a pretty vehicle, though Ivan never had that big an interest in cars. He stood next to Baron and suddenly remembered that he had a cigar in his pocket. He pulled out the cigar, a light-colored Acid Blondie that he bought from a suggestion of a friend and cut the tip before rifling through his coat pockets to find his lighter. No dice.

"Baron, mind if I borrow your lighter?" he asked, unaware of May's presence.

Skeleton and Damian

Damian nearly busted out laughing when he saw Tony walk up to the group and whimper his response. The kid obviously had no spine to speak of. Damian took a few steps away now that the healer was there and looked over at the car, where a beautiful girl was emerging from the driver's side. Damian's eyes widened and his mouth hung agape for a few moments as he watched her. He shook it off when he remembered he was a gang leader and began to stroll over rather pompously. Skeleton, meanwhile gestured for Antonio to come over to where Reiko was injured.

"Our friend Reiko has been injured. Fix her." he said, half-growling at the kid. Damian, meanwhile approached Mercedes car and leaned on the hood with his left elbow.

"Hello there." he said "Do I know you from somewhere? You look..." There was a roar of motorcycles nearby and some headlights from down the street. Was that...gunfire?

"Familiar." he finished, looking up at the approaching bikes.

Whisper and Emilio

Upon reaching the bottom floor of the Archimedes Building, Whisper and Emilio walked into the fenced-in sculpture garden that surrounded the building. It was a gift from the Museum of Art when the building opened and still contained some pieces in good condition. Emilio leaned against a bronze statue of a globe and smoked a cigarette while they planned their next move.

"So where to now?" Emilio asked Whisper. Whisper shrugged and fanned the cigarette smoke away from her face. She hated cigarettes.

"What's still open?" she asked. Emilio shrugged back and pulled out his phone to find the answer.

"Sure there's a few different bars and shit still around." he said "Theater on 18th Street's still open. Any good movies out."

"Not that I've heard of." She sat down on a bench and looked over at an odd-looking stone statue of a group of men in Victorian-style suits with what appeared to be snowman bottoms for legs. She blinked as if that would make her see it better, but nothing changed. Art always kind of annoyed her. She heard more sirens from not far away. They had to get out of here soon so as to avoid a run-in with the police. Leaving dead cops in the street was generally bad for business.

"Let's just head to my place and figure our next move out from there." Whisper said. Emilio nodded and the two left the sculpture garden. They began walking towards the other side of the street, where Emilio's old Chevy s10 pickup was parked when Whisper caught sight of Nick leaving the building. She nudged Emilio with her elbow.

"What?" he said.

"There's that mechanic kid, Nick. Should we invite him?" Emilio was about to respond when he saw that pretty blonde girl from the bar approaching Nick. Emilio rose his eyes brows at the sight and turned back towards Whisper.

"Nah. I think he's got his hands full." he replied. Whisper smirked.

"For a mechanic he's sure doing well for himself."

"I know, right? Where do I get a French model from?" Whisper smirked as she thought of something dirty.

"Five bucks he can't get hard for her." she whispered. Emilio laughed as they walked across the street.

"You're on." They bumped fists and he walked across to the driver's side of the car.

Taylor

Upon leaving the bar, Taylor identified the only familiar face she saw around; Nick. He seemed pretty laid back for what appeared to be a gang member, and in spite of herself she found him to be rather cute. She walked over to him, being sure to click her heels sensuously across the ground as she walked. She took out a compact and studied her face in its mirror before addressing him; perfection.

"So that was fun." she said, approaching him from the left "Do you beat up musclebound goons often?"

---

some music

She was being followed. Tara looked at her rear view mirror and saw the man pursuing her. He looked oddly familiar, like someone who she used to know...

Oh my God it's Desperado she thought to herself. Desperado was a former Skull, a loose cannon who could turn his tattoos into physical objects. But Skeleton, Damian, and Grease killed him years ago! She gritted her teeth as she cut off an SUV and swerved into an alley at breakneck speeds. The man on the bike behind her followed. She saw that he now was holding something out from his body. She ducked as a bullet bounced off of the back alley wall and slid to the left just in time to avoid a dumpster. He followed, and her right rear view mirror exploded as the bullet tore it to pieces. She swerved back onto the main road and sped off. She looked in the remaining mirror and saw that he was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned down a smaller street heading towards the Jolly Roger, where she knew the Skulls were meeting. She eyed the skies as she drove, trying to see if the Vanguard guy was still following her. As she turned down another street, now going a more-or-less normal speed, she was cut off by a black chopper and a bullet just missed her head. She slammed on the bike's gas pedal, avoiding another gunshot as her pursuer returned to chasing her, now with what looked like a submachine gun. Quickly she synthesized a pike of shining tire spikes and threw them behind her. He swerved out of the way and dodged a speeding box truck. He drove up on the empty sidewalk and attempted to cut her off at the crosswalk. Tara threw up a wall of light and he drove around it with ease. She was about half a mile from the Jolly Roger. She turned down Haber Street and could almost see the lights at the end. She drove in a sloppy serpentine pattern to avoid the bullets as Desperado grabbed his submachine gun and emptied the clip.

Tara gasped as a sharp pain shot up her leg. He shot her in the right calf. They were about 500 feet from the bar. Tara's serpentine pattern began to break down, and she was driving very sloppily. She jerked forward as another bullet hit her front tire. Tara flew through the air and skidded across the ground, a collection of yellow particles absorbing some of the fall. She got up and turned towards Desperado. The wisps of yellow light formed more tire spikes, and a sword materialized in her hand. Desperado aimed the submachine gun, and fired. The clip was empty. He cursed and the gun vanished. His right hand was moving towards his right thigh when he heard a loud "WOOSH!" come from nearby. Just as he leveled the gun at Tara, a red hot discus cut the gun barrel in two and embedded itself in a brick wall. Damian was standing not a hundred feet away, his left hand across Mercedes' body as if protecting her and his right hand extended from the monster of a throw. He met eyes with the man on the bike, and he drove off.

"That's what I though." he muttered. He ran over towards Tara.

"Damian..." she weakly muttered before collapsing. He caught her under the arms and carried her onto the sidewalk. Her calf was leaking blood. He cursed and looked over where Antonio was.

"Do we have any other healers?" he bellowed.

City of Gold OOC

Give me a few hours and I'll have a post up. My computer is running slow and I'm a little busy.

EDIT: Just a note, I would like some of the people who have yet to post to do so soon. I need to update the OP, but there are several players around who have yet to post once.

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

Um, shade, isn't this an OOC?

Maxx can't read. Sorry.

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

I will be posting my sheets on the deposit (if it exists) momentarily. So far I have three characters; a Sudanese infantryman, a medic, and the Director of Medical Staff at HQ/surgeon. I *might* make a fourth character (because I got an idea for an Israeli intelligence agent) but I don't want too many characters in this because they're hard to control.

EDIT: There isn't so here you go;

Doc Cromwell

DOSSIER
NAME: Dr.Isaac Cromwell
AGE: 55
SEX: Male
NICKNAME: Doc
DESCRIPTION: Doctor Cromwell is a thin man of average height, about 5’11” and 155 lbs. He is a very gangly man, with long skinny arms and legs. He has good posture, always staying perfectly upright like he’s standing at attention or something of the sort. His fingers, being long and slender, give him an almost spider-like quality. While he’s certainly not in fighting shape, Doc is still in relatively good shape, with a flat stomach and such. He’s an Italian man, with dark skin and black hair that is now more grey than black. He’s a fairly attractive man, with a square head, a cleft chin, and short wrinkles beginning to form by his eyes. His eyes are almond-shaped and are brown in color. His hair is cut close to his head and is tussled at the top with hair gel. Doc has small ears that lay flat to his head and an average-sized narrow nose. Cromwell has excellent hygiene, with straight pearly white teeth like planks in a picket fence, groomed nails, and a well-groomed body. He has a small white scar on his left shoulder from a car accident. He wears a pair of rectangular-framed glasses. He speaks with an alto voice, a little deep but authoritative and firm-sounding.

PERSONALITY: Dr.Cromwell is known to be an ambitious man, a maverick of sorts. He is a devoted workaholic, constantly pacing the halls of the hospital and checking in on patients. He’s classified by many as a busybody, sticking his nose in people’s business. He’s an extroverted and very down to Earth man, preferring to work in groups or chat over coffee rather than tackle books alone or email a partner. He’s got a certain flirtatious air to him and is famous for playfully flirting with some of his female staff. Some call him sexist for it. He calls it having fun. He has a good sense of humor and is very sarcastic. Despite his rather down-to-earth nature, some lower-ranking people find that he often almost subconsciously talks in a patronizing way. Doc Cromwell sees himself as a sophisticated gentleman, listening to classical music over rock and wine instead of a beer. He occasionally hosts cocktail parties at HQ.

ATTIRE: This depends on what he’s doing. When doing paperwork or simply patrolling the hospital floors, Dr.Cromwell wears a pair of dress slacks, a white Oxford shirt, a tie of some sort, and a labcoat. He carries a stethoscope around his neck and wears a pair of black loafers on his feet. He always carries a pair of blue nitrile gloves in a pocket of his coat. When performing a surgery, Dr.Cromwell dresses in blue scrubs and a face mask.

WEAPON OF CHOICE Being a rather high-ranking member of the Dreadnaughts staff, Cromwell carries a Taurus Model 22 pocket pistol with a rosewood grip with him at all times. It is a small pistol but is easy to conceal, meaning that enemies don’t see it coming when he pulls it out and shoots them dead. He has a Smith & Wesson .44 magnum revolver in the top drawer of his nightstand, within arms reach of him when he’s asleep. The blowback would probably send him sprawling, but few people will stare down the barrel of a .44 and not get at least a little antsy.

MUGGING: He’d hand the mugger a fifty and tell him to get lost. When he goes to run away, Cromwell would shout “hey! My money!” and then shoot him.

BIOGRAPHY: Doc Cromwell was born in upstate New York, near Buffalo. He grew up the third of four children of a nurse and a lawyer. He wasn’t particularly talented in school until freshman year in high school, when he took biology. He developed a love for biology and found mathematics rather easy. He graduated with a 3.9 GPA (this is before honors and AP classes) and attended the U.S. Naval Academy. He worked as a doctor in the Navy, getting his medical degree from Emory University while off-duty. He worked as a doctor on the USS Enterprise (the aircraft carrier, not the spaceship) for about ten years, and then moved to the Navy Medical Center in Norfolk, Virginia, where he worked as a surgeon for another twelve years. By the time he left at age 47, he was the head of the hospital’s surgical department. He received many accolades for his service to the country and became renowned for his surgical techniques. He was one of the first surgeons to ever use advanced skin grafts to repair burns on wounded soldiers. He got married at age 28 and had his first kid at age 31, then another at age 34.

Had Doc Cromwell stayed at the Naval hospital, he probably would have kept ascending the ranks. Many people thought he’d make a good Surgeon General, but then, when he was 47, Cromwell and his wife got in a terrible car accident while driving home from vacation in the Outer Banks. Cromwell escaped the accident with nothing to show for it but a small, hardly-noticeable scar on his left shoulder, but his wife wasn’t so lucky. She received severe head trauma from the accident and fell into a coma. She died a few weeks later. Doc Cromwell grieved for a long time, but with the help of his family was back on his feet in under a year. About a year after this, Cromwell met Belroth Daemon, who offered him a job as the chief of medical staff at the Dreadnaughts HQ. Desiring a change in scenery, Doc Cromwell decided to retire from the military (he had a pension at this point anyways) and began working at the Dreadnaughts HQ as their chief of healthcare.

TALENTS: I don’t think I need to mention that Doc Cromwell is a kickass surgeon, but he is. At some point in his industrious career, Doc decided to pick up the art of sleight-of-hand magic. He is good with card tricks as well as party tricks. He is very well-read. His favorite book is The Hunt for Red October by Tom Clancy. Cromwell is a gifted writer and is currently working on a memoir from his time on the USS Enterprise, as well as a novel based on the Dreadnaughts. He is still throwing around titles, but Belroth suggested “The Reckoning of Lesser Men” for it.

ROLE: Chief of Medical Operations at HQ. Basically, Doc Cromwell is the head doctor. He runs the hospital and makes sure that all of the other employees are doing their jobs. In addition to this, because he gets bored just sitting at a desk all day, Doc Cromwell works as a doctor in the hospital, often performing difficult surgeries and checking in on ICU patients.

OTHER

I LIKE

I DISLIKE

ATTRIBUTES
You have 19 points to allocate between each stat. Remember, you cannot have zero in a stat. Please don't be the dick that has 1's in 5 of the stats and then has a Strength of 14 or something.

Strength: 1 (Cromwell’s aging decently, but he still doesn’t lift much, and so he’s not particularly strong)
Dexterity: 3 (Cromwell has steady hands for medicine, but he hasn’t fired a gun in quite a long time. Don’t expect him to turn sniper [until I use my fate point])
Constitution: 3 (Despite his aging, Cromwell’s excellent diet and great hygiene have kept him quite healthy)
Wisdom: 4 (Years of experience have given Cromwell the wisdom to stay resolute in the middle of a difficult surgery or a tense situation)
Intelligence: 6 (With years of experience, a love of reading, and a medical degree, Doctor Cromwell is quite possibly one of the smartest men on base)
Charisma: 3 (While Surgeons aren’t particularly well-known for their social skills, Dr.Cromwell is a fairly fond person to be around and is fairly persuasive.)

SPECIALIZATION: Medicine: Emergency Surgery.

Dr.Moore

DOSSIER
NAME: Dr.Johnathan Moore
AGE: 33
SEX: M
NICKNAME: Doc, Johnny, John
DESCRIPTION: Dr.Moore is a tall, big-framed gentleman, standing at 6’2” and weighing somewhere around 220 lbs. He is a big fellow with long legs and a broad chest. He stands with his shoulders back and his head pointed slightly high in a haughty way. He has large hands like baseball mitts. His skin is tanned from a lifetime love of nature. Moore is a fairly attractive man, reminiscent of a good-natured lumberjack (one of his nicknames at the hospital used to be Daniel Boone). He has a round head with a very thick light brown full beard. The hair on his head is cut short, and he has large ears that stick out slightly. Moore’s eyes are blue and calm looking; he always looks somewhat friendly. Moore is known for his good hygiene. He takes good care of his body, and as such has healthy skin and good teeth. He has a small crescent-shaped scar on his right kneecap from a surgery on a torn ligament in his knee when he was in high school.

PERSONALITY Dr.Moore is a brilliant, but troubled, man. He is a pessimistic man, a demeanor that he received from years of being an ER doc. He tries to be positive, but like a clinically-depressed clown, usually fails. He has a bad habit of being brutally honest with people and is generally desensitized to death. If you’re bleeding, he’s going to shoot straight with you on the damage, and more than once he’s told someone that they’re basically going to die. He is an incredibly-determined man, willing to do whatever it is to get the job done. He is on the verge of being a tryhard, and is one of those people who will never stop fighting to keep someone alive. He’s not going to take you off of life support unless forced to. This is because, like many ER docs, Moore has PTSD. He’s watched countless people die on the operating table, and it haunts him. He has a ton of trouble sleeping and gets flashbacks when he doesn’t take medication. To this day, he still has nightmares about the operating room. In addition to this, Dr.Moore has grown a dislike for shooting. While he doesn’t have a problem wielding a gun and laying down cover fire/killing from a distance, if faced with a situation where he has to shoot someone point blank, he’s going to have a problem (I was thinking this could be a +1 modifier to unarmed combat or something, but don’t make it his special perk because that’s lame).

Away from his job, Moore isn’t a bad guy. Moore loves the outdoors and is rather redneck-esque when it comes to guns. Back in the USA he used to hunt and fish a lot; these are his two favorite activities next to hiking. Moore very rarely drinks much and hates cigarettes with a passion. He’s a well-read individual with a fairly-extensive library at home. He’s an Orioles and Cowboys fan (because he grew up without a football team and the Cowboys were really good when he was a kid). He likes sports a lot, especially baseball. His favorite food is barbecue ribs. Moore seems like a person who can be found often at a cookout or barbecue. He’s fairly sociable, though usually skirts around questions about his old job like “how many people did you watch die?” (you’d be surprised how many people would ask that).

ATTIRE: Nothing fancy, just typical army gear. Moore wears a camouflage fatigue when in combat, protected by a plate-carrier tactical rail. He has black combat boots and thick gloves that he takes off when he needs to do something doctor-y in a very dramatic way. He usually wears a pair of black Oakley sunglasses and a camo Orioles hat, as well as an earpiece which he uses to communicate with other members of the task force. On his back, Dr.Moore wears a kevlar backpack which contains his medical supplies. When Dr.Moore is at HQ, he generally dresses in a blue polo and khakis or something of the sorts, usually with a white labcoat on when working.

WEAPON OF CHOICE
-Sig Sauer P226. While Dr.Moore doesn’t know his way around a battlefield as well as your typical ‘Naught, he’s been shooting guns since he was eight years old. Of all the pistols he’s fired, the Sig is his favorite.
-M4 Carbine. The standard issue rifle of the US Marines, this lightweight carbine serves as Dr.Moore’s primary weapon. He has an under-barrel grenade launcher on the gun as well as a red dot sight.

-Medical equipment. Not weaponry, but the opposite. This is what Doctor Moore carries in his backpack.
-AED defibrillator.
-Alcohol swabs
-Assorted catheters.
- intraosseous infusion kit, used to administer fluids to a patient with severe blood loss/burns.
-IV fluid and IV catheters.
-Chest seal, a device used to seal up lung wounds in order to allow the patient to breathe.
-Wound-packing foam. A new innovation from Hopkins, this sprayable foam can be used to plug up bullet wounds and prevent excess bleeding until the patient can be taken to a surgical staff. it works as an excellent hemostatic agent.
- A Surgical Cricothyrotomy kit, used to restore breathing to patients.
- Morphine
-Narcan, an antidepressant to counter Morphine’s less-desirable effects
-Phenergan, an anti-nausea medication that strengthens Morphine.
-Ibuprofen
-Antibiotics
-epinephrine shot (Epi-pen)
-Gauze.
-tourniquets
-Splints
-Safety pins
-Assorted hypodermic needles/syringes
-Nitrile gloves
-tape
- burn dressing (a gel bandage)
-Trauma shears

Yeah, he has to carry a whole lot of shit. So next time Moore tries to yank a bullet from your bleeding leg and you complain about him being a crappy doc, just remember that he hauls that sack of shit around to keep you from getting your head blown off your shoulders by a mentally-deficient terrorist.

MUGGING: Dr.Moore would attempt to negotiate with the mugger, and when negotiations failed would probably use his keen medical knowledge of pressure points to twist said mugger into a pretzel.
BIOGRAPHY: I’ll make this brief. John Moore was born in Baltimore City. His mother was a paramedic at Hopkins and his father was the head chef of a popular Baltimore seafood restaurant, so he was fairly well-off. From a young age, John knew that he wanted to be a doctor. He loved hearing about his mom’s days at work and quickly grew a keen love for biology. He was a very intelligent boy, and rose to the top of his class at Western Tech with ease (though he was not first in the class; this still bugs him a little because the Valedictorian cheated off of him on a calculus test). John attended Johns Hopkins University for no charge since his mother worked at the hospital. He used an accelerated MD program to get his degree by age 25, and decided to do his residency at the University of Maryland Shock/Trauma Center, voted the best trauma center in the world (it’s hardcore. Like, MASH units get trained there). Through years of watching the hit drama show ER, Moore began to fancy the idea of being an emergency physician (ER doc). After finishing his residency, Dr.Moore got a job at the Trauma center.

When Dr.Moore was 31, his career as a physician came to an end. An eight-year-old girl got shot four times at a street corner in West Baltimore. She was rushed to the Trauma center, where Dr.Moore met her and her family. The bleeding was extensive, and she was short for this earth. Moore was already having a bad day; he had a heart attack patient and an elderly cancer patient die on him, and he wasn’t going to let a third go. He removed the bullets and was able to patch up the wounds, but the internal bleeding was bad enough that she went into hemorrhagic shock. He fought as hard as he could, using every medical trick in the book to fix her, but it amounted to nothing. She died on the operating table, and after he failed to use both defibrillation and CPR on her to bring her back, had to be pulled away of her and restrained. After that night, Moore lost it. He spiraled into depression for a long time, and attempted to commit suicide. Had it not been for his wife, he would be dead. Moore attempted to return to the office, but he just couldn’t do it anymore. He had seen too many innocent men and women die.

What spurred Moore to join the Dreadnaughts was a combination of a documentary on the private security company Blackwater that he saw, a deep-seeded desire to get revenge on the bad people in the world who caused things like that little girl’s death to occur, and his lingering depression and PTSD. Moore saw the Dreadnaughts as a way to keep helping people through medicine while striking a blow for freedom and avenging the injustice in the world. Plus, the isolation of living on Aland Island kept his mind off of home, where children still die of bullet wounds made by bad men.

Dr.Moore’s house is in Fells Point, a neighborhood in Baltimore. He owns a rather large townhouse there, where his wife Kara lives.

TALENTS: Firstly, Moore is trained in emergency medicine. Not to toot my own horn, but not many doctors serve as combat medics, so Moore is probably one of the most-qualified medics in the world, despite his lack of combat experience. Moore’s best skill is probably shooting. While he has never served in combat before, Moore has a hell of a shot from hunting.

Non-combat, Moore is a good baseball player. He played catcher for a few years on a rec team run by the hospital. He collects old guns, and has quite a collection back in Baltimore. Having been an Eagle Scout when he was a kid, Moore is good at camping (like setting up tents, lighting fires, tying knots, making Smores, etc.) He grills a mean rib. Cooking is something that Dr.Moore got from his dad, who was a chef (since you probably didn’t read the backstory).

ROLE: Line medic. Dr.Moore is a combat medic. He goes with the Naughts on large group missions and provides medical care to wounded soldiers on the front lines of battle.

OTHER: Dr.Moore owns a dog back at base, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever by the name of Cal.

I LIKE
I DISLIKE

ATTRIBUTES
You have 19 points to allocate between each stat. Remember, you cannot have zero in a stat. Please don't be the dick that has 1's in 5 of the stats and then has a Strength of 14 or something.

Strength: 3 (Moore can certainly pull his weight, but he’s no superman)
Dexterity: 3 (It requires a fair bit of dexterity to apply bandages and stitch up wounds.
Constitution: 3 (A healthy outdoorsman)
Wisdom: 3 (Moore has a fair bit of experience in his field, but this is his first ever time in active combat, so his wisdom will be a little lower than usual)
Intelligence: 5 (Well you certainly don’t get an MD from University of Maryland by being Titus MacArthur, now do you?)
Charisma: 2 (While Moore’s a kind guy, most people don’t do the whole “brutal honesty” thing, and PTSD isn’t the best talking point)

SPECIALIZATION Medicine: Battlefield Medicine

NOTE: This sheet might go through a bit of an overhaul because I discovered that combat medics aren't usually doctors. Standby for changes.

Tamba Shariati

DOSSIER
NAME: Tamba Shariati
AGE: 23
SEX: Male
NICKNAME: Youngster, The Kid
DESCRIPTION: 5’7”, 140 lbs, Tamba isn’t a very large person. He is very thin, with wiry muscles and a small frame good for agility. His skin is a very dark shade of black. He has long arms and legs, with thin fingers and slightly-clubbed fingernails. There is a scar on his left shoulder and another in his right thigh where a bullet was dug out of him. He has a rather long neck. Tamba always stands in an athletic position, with his legs at shoulder width, ready to spring into action at any moment.
Tamba’s head is rather oblong-shaped, with stubbly hair and high cheekbones. He has no facial hair, and isn’t particularly good at growing it for some reason. With wide eyes and a babyish face, Tamba looks a good bit younger than he is. Tamba’s eyes are hazel-colored and seem to hold a lot of curiosity; he doesn’t look particularly dangerous or evil like your standard mercenary. His right eye is ever-so-slightly smaller than his left, but makes his face look slightly crooked, like you’re leaning to the side and looking at it. He has a wide, flat nose and lips that are usually held in a slim straight line. He has small ears, one of which is pierced. Tamba will occasionally wear a faux diamond stud in this ear. Tamba’s teeth are white, but they are crooked from a lack of dental treatment.
Tamba’s voice is higher than average, making him sound young. He has a thick African accent.

PERSONALITY: Tamba’s no sweetheart. Years of fighting in the jungles of Sudan have taught Tamba the lesson of nature; kill or be killed. He is unafraid to pull the trigger, perhaps a bit too unafraid, and he’s seen some pretty nasty things in his short life. He’s seen many loved ones die at the hands of his enemies, and this has made him cold. Tamba is known to be a very paranoid person; he very rarely relaxes and you never see him drunk or high. He is extremely alert, always ready to move, and he has a keen attention to detail despite his lack of intellect. Tamba hates being made fun of or picked on, especially when it comes to his age. His skin crawls every time he is called “Kid”. Tamba is picked on constantly for his youth and isn’t given as much trust as he thinks he should be given.
ATTIRE Tamba usually keeps it simple, wearing what looks like a set of fatigues, a button-down collared camo shirt and a pair of camo pants. Tamba is a big believer in camouflage and so will often change his camo to match the surroundings of the mission. He wears an ammo belt holding a few magazines and carries his weapons on the belt around his waist. He wears a pair of black combat boots on his feet. There is a knife near the top of the ammo belt, positioned in such a way that Tamba can grab it with ease if he’s in a jam.
WEAPON OF CHOICE:
-Grenades. Being a hit-and-run specialist, Tamba always carries a few grenades on him. His usual load is two frag grenades and two flashbang grenades to help him escape.
-Uzi. Tamba’s main weapon. The Uzi submachine gun military variant is fit to fire .45 ACP rounds at 500 rpms. The gun is fitted with a holographic sight.
-Beretta M9. Tamba’s sidearm. It is nickel-plated and semi-automatic.
-knife. Tamba always carries a combat knife with him, placed on his belt in such a way that he can reach it if he’s in a jam.
-AK-47. Tamba does not own an AK-47, but from his years in the Sudanese military he knows his way around one very well. He can field strip an AK in record time and is fairly accurate with one.

MUGGING: Tamba knees the attacker in the balls and runs down the alley, where he hides in a dumpster and ambushes the mugger for revenge.
BIOGRAPHY: Tamba was born in Kajo Keji, a small down in South Sudan. He had the misfortune of being born during the Sudanese civil war, when South Sudan attempted once again to secede from North Sudan. Tamba’s father fought in the war in the South Sudanese Army, the SPLA, and when Tamba was fourteen he too joined their ranks. He went through very little schooling, though his mother, who was blessed with having been educated at a young age, taught him how to speak, read, and write English. Despite his young age, Tamba very quickly showed himself to be an adept fighter, and participated in many guerilla-type attacks on North Sudanese troop trucks and oil tankers, which were siphoning the oil from South Sudan and taking it north. With the help of US military training, the South began to win the war. Tamba fought in many skirmishes, many taking place in the jungle, where he could use his small size and speed to dart around obstacles and evade enemy attacks. Everything was going great until one battle near the end of the war. Tamba’s regiment was low on supplies, and so a helicopter was being flown in with supplies. South Sudan, however, only had three airstrips at which a helicopter could land, though, so the regiment had to protect it from Northern attack. Apparently someone really pissed off a North Sudanese commander, though, because the Northern army drove two Armored personnel carriers into the battle, running one soldier over, and let loose with about forty soldiers. Outnumbered and outgunned, Tamba took off into the jungle. As he ran, he was shot in the leg, and one of his comrades carried him to safety.
Now I should probably mention now that South Sudanese medicine sucks. Like, you might as well get treated by a doctor in the Civil War. Through some miracle, the bullet passed through clean, and a doctor was able to remove the few remaining fragments. Tamba just narrowly avoided deadly gangrene. The war eventually ended, and Tamba found himself facing a new problem; political corruption and extreme poverty. He spent a year or two with his father trying to make a living by fishing, but it didn’t pay nearly enough. Tamba was in Juba, the largest city in South Sudan, when he heard about the Dreadnaughts. He realized that they paid well enough for him to support his family by fighting for them, and so he managed to scrape together enough money to pay for a flight from Juba’s airport to The Netherlands, where he got a boat to the Faroe Islands (HQ’s still in the islands, right?) and joined the Naughts.

TALENTS: Tamba is a very fast individual (getting shot at generally makes you run faster) and is a good soccer player (he is a striker). He can speak both English and Juba Arabic, though he cannot read Arabic very well.
ROLE: Small arms infantry/guerilla warfare specialist. Tamba is an expert at hit-and-run style warfare due to his experience, small stature, and agility. He works best in forested or jungle environments, but is deployed in general as a footsoldier.
OTHER

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ATTRIBUTES
You have 19 points to allocate between each stat. Remember, you cannot have zero in a stat. Please don't be the dick that has 1's in 5 of the stats and then has a Strength of 14 or something.

Strength: 3
Dexterity: 6
Constitution: 5
Wisdom: 2
Intelligence: 1
Charisma: 2

SPECIALIZATION Armed combat: Guerilla Warfare.

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

Excellent. I'll post my sheets soon.