Zoey Boey — Roleplayer Guild

"a little fleur-de-lise"



NAME
Sylvia Bailey
AGE
32
GENDER
Female
SPECIES
Human
HOMETOWN
Shreve's Port
FACTION
N/A



Quick to laugh and easy to smile, Sylvia carries herself with a constant energy. She often wears her blonde hair in a ponytail. Due to the hot, humid weather of post-nuclear Louisiana, she usually wears a cropped shirt and somewhat tattered jeans to let her skin breathe. Things like combat armor's too heavy, slows her down, and it doesn't seem to do people much good against a Silverfish. Some people seem to think leather armor will do anything against anything, but those people are dead. Might as well just be comfortable at that point. She has an authentic northern Louisiana accent, with twangs and soft letters. She's mostly unscarred besides a knife scar on her right arm, but don't let that fool you. She's seen firefights and killed some folks- she's just lucky, and a little skilled.

While friendly enough most of the time, her behavior can get strange when she hasn't had a dose of Jet recently. She's most pleasant when she's her normal self- the twilight between when her most recent dose is fading off, but not before she begins to crave again. When she's on Jet, she says odd things and can be cruel, but without it she becomes more unstable and quick to anger. Overall, she's always trying to be upbeat and charismatic, but it takes different subtexts depending on how high she is.



TYPE ESFP
SPECTATOR'S REACTION
She could learn to stay out of people's business, or let things alone sometimes. It's not like she's crazy or anything- she's genuine enough, but sometimes she laughs at things that don't seem funny. I think the Jet gets the best of her sometimes. Sylvia also could really use someone who can reign her in because it seems like she's a little easy to piss off, and she gets herself into situations in which one party or another may be slightly hostile. I mean, it's not like she's bi-polar or something, but it's just odd sometimes. I guess that's just how she copes with the wasteland.

 3  5  4  6  4  9  5



TRAIT
Chem Reliant: You've taken chems all your life. You manage to make them last twice as long, but you're addicted as hell. You're a far better soldier on drugs then not.
SKILLS
Combat Skill
Small Guns: The use, care, and general knowledge of small firearms. Pistols, SMGs and Rifles.
Active Skill(s)
Steal: The ability to make those of others, your own. Can be used to steal from people or places.

PERK
no perk yet

STRENGTHS
Agility: Sylvia is quick, flexible and nimble. Hard to pin down and able to fit into tight spaces.
Pickpocket: Sylvia has learned to dip her hand quickly into someone else's pants pocket to steal away their caps, ammo, or Jet. She's also good at shoplifting.
Combat Drugs: Her body had adapted to Jet over the years, it enhances her abilities greatly without immediate drawbacks.

WEAKNESSES
Fragile: Easy to break.
Combat Drugs: She's addicted to Jet. Without her fix she becomes irritable, distracted, clumsy and forgetful. While she's on jet she can be cruel and abrasive.
Not Terribly Clever Hacking, lockpicking, reading an enemy, reading a book, are difficult or boring. She's also unaware of her addiction, or at least unwilling to acknolwedge it.



WEAPONS
10mm Pistol: Sturdy, reliable, and packs a bunch. What's not to like?
Sharp Knife: For when things get unfortunate.
ARMOR
Clothes: Various tanktops and jeans won't stop bullets or claws, but then again not a lot of things will.
CHEMICALS
1 Stimpak
3 Jet Injections
2 Water Bottles
MISCELLANEOUS
Wallet with Bills: The old way of money had flair to it. Sacks of caps are beautiful, but seeing some guy named Washington on money is fun. That's why she has a leather wallet tucked into her back right pocket with a variety of paper bills wadded inside.



Sylvia Bailey was jogging. Her loose shirt bounced up and down with her stride as she jogged down the mostly empty street. Around her hip was a leather belt with a 10mm pistol tucked into a holster, a sheathed knife, and a small satchel filled with a few snacks. Or Jet. Mostly Jet. She had taken some earlier to get some boring delivery work done and was still riding the buzz. So she was working off the excess energy with a jog. It kept her fit and seeing the city was fun. Not really paying attention, she jogged out of public attention and into more hidden area's of her hometown.

An older woman dressed in rags sat against a wall to the left of the entrance to an alleyway. As the entranced jogger passed, the woman thrust out a hand. "Spare a cap for an old woman?" Sylvia paused her jog. Sylvia wondered how it was possible an old woman beggar could even exist.

"Eh, sorry, no." She began to continue her jog. Two burly masculine figures suddenly stepped out of the alley way.

"How about a cap for us-" They began their intimidating spiel, but Sylvia, startled and high, began her dirty work. Immediately the handgun was out. She thrust it into the belly of the man on the right, interrupting his speech with a gunshot. The wounded man gasped and shot off his own gun that richochetted against the pavement. The second man produced a crowbar and prepared to swing, but Sylvia scrambled out of the way and raised the barrel of her gun towards As he swung again Sylvia shot him in the chest, sending the swing wide. Still, the crowbar slammed into the side of her torso and Sylvia's vision purpled in pain, but she still managed to get a second bullet off and the man stumbled backwards, angry and dead. The first man gurgled next to her as Sylvia glanced towards the old crone.

"Wait-" She also began, but a bullet found her chest and she wheezed, head drooping. 

"First impressions, people." Sylvia said shakily, heart pounding, a bruise forming where the club struck her. She tensely giggled as the first man ceased her gurgling and stared vacantly at the sky. Her shirt was cropped, so one could see the bottom half of the bludgeoning wound. It began to turn a vivd purple. Sylvia giggled before doubling over, falling to her hands and knees, one hand on her damaged skin, coughing.

"I feel awake now!" She shouted to no one in particular. "All that energy's been worked outta me, that's for damn sure." People began to investigate the four gun shots, wandering in the general direction of the noise, safe behind a few security officers who lead the charge.

"Why would anyone do drugs when they could just kill people for the same buzz?" Sylvia wheezed out a laugh as she continued her jog away from the scene of the triple homicide in self-defense. How many times can you defend yourself before you start to be the one in the wrong? Sylvia wondered this to herself, already forgetting that she murdered the old woman in cold blood, the fact vanishing into the haze of adrenaline, pain, and Jet.



youtube.com/watch?v=HKtsdZs9LJo&ab_ch…
 Oh, it's terribly mainsteam, I suppose, but I thought of it first.
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