Hunter, Edith L.
Nov 11, 2014 7:57:58 GMT -7
Post by Edith Hunter on Nov 11, 2014 7:57:58 GMT -7
EDITH LAYNE HUNTER
| NAME Edith Layne Hunter ALIAS Edi, Hunt, Merc. AGE 29 DATE OF BIRTH 15th January GENDER Female | PLAY BY Jessica Biel SEXUAL ORIENTATION Bisexual AFFILIATION Syndicate, Neutral, Freelance. OCCUPATION Professional Mercenary, Enforcer. PLACE OF BIRTH St Keyne, Three Hills. |
HEIGHT
5'8"
WEIGHT
139lbs
HAIR
Auburn (Dyed Brown), Mid-Length, Straight-ish.
EYE COLOR
HazelPHYSICAL BUILD
Lean, lithe, toned.
DISTINGUISHING MARKS
---Arrow motif tattoo: [link]
---Pair of red-tail hawks: [link]
--Odd scar here and there, bullet and knife. One across her chin.
--Laser burn across her left shoulder-blade.
GENERAL APPEARANCE
A fighter's body, built for utility, with the clothing to match and a generally passive expression with a hint of being mildly disgruntled about something.
CLOTHING STYLE
Practical and utilitarian, with a dash of modern. Torn jeans, combats and cargoes ranging from khaki to stone to black, tank-tops and t-shirts covered in various nonsense and motifs, or just plain, solid colour. Well-loved jackets, generally leather. Khaki or black combat boots. And then for downtime... somethin' comfy. Worn overshirts and sweaters that appear a little too big. Wears a necklace with a few feathers and charms on it.
--Style 1
--Style 2
--Example
LIKES
| STRENGTHS
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OVERALL PERSONALITY
Edith is a straight-forward, well-grounded kind of girl. She doesn't like to mince words or waste time, especially short with people that back her into a corner. She has a fair amount of wit and sarcasm that she uses as a safety net for when she truly can't recall what she was supposed to be doing. She becomes incredibly frustrated and quick to anger when pressed for information - too many questions she either doesn't want to answer or hardly knows the answers to. On a lighter side, she does enjoy a good night out, bright lights and dingy bars. They bring out a rather relaxed and somewhat friendly side when she knows she isn't on the clock. Alcohol tends to loosen her up a little, too. She can be awkward and uneasy in a personal light, and refuses to admit to any weaknesses that people might be able to exploit. Her friendships are light, kept at arms distance and full of back and forth teasing and insults. She avoids relationships, and attempts to keep people from getting too close.
| FATHER Bartholomew "Bart" Hunter, 57, Farmhand/Tracker/Falconer, retired, alive. MOTHER Dervla Hunter, 54, Teacher, alive. SIBLINGS Conell Hunter, 35, Courier/Pilot, alive. OTHER NOTABLE RELATIVES N/A | SIGNIFICANT OTHER No idea. CHILDREN None. OTHER SIGNIFICANT PERSONS ---Anton "The Coyote" Castillion ; leader of the Silverton Cartel, and 'new mayor' of St Keyne. Former employer. [deceased] ---Finley Crowe ; Member of the Silverton Cartel. Mentor. [deceased] ---Vanessa Blythe ; Ex-member of the Hired, old friend. ---Roy Skinner ; Freelancer. Unfortunately hard to forget. ---Elektra ; Gunrunner and Captain of the Ambrose Light. Former employer. PETS A red-tail hawk; Sparta. [deceased] |
BACKSTORY
St Keyne wasn't the biggest town on Three Hills. It was vastly rural, and so very old-west that it might have been mistaken for a time long passed. Well, if not for the huge metal structure of an old, decommissioned vessel that, over the many years, had slowly morphed into the two-bit town that circled it to this day. The town, naturally, having been named for the ship, and the ship itself becoming the main hub, the port, and town hall. The land was dust and dirt whipped up by horses and mules. It was a decent size, and on the outskirts there were the farms and homesteads. In one such farmhouse, the young miss Edith Hunter was born. A scrap of a girl, all tomboy and skinned knees. She trailed around after her older brother, Conall, and bothered him no-end with questions, wanting to get involved in whatever mischief he might have been up to, and just generally annoy him - like a little sister should. Her father was a falconer and tracker, and general purpose farmhand for the surrounding lands. He taught his kids how to survey their surroundings, he taught them how to fire a bow, and how to hunt. Survival in the Caervallack - a large stretch of wilderness to the south - was one of their family past-times, and they were not allowed near a rifle or gun of any kind for a few good years. Edith even helped tame and train some of the birds her father worked with, including a young red-tail hawk they'd found caught up in some wire - which she grew too attached to let her father set free. Her education came from St Keyne's own school, and her mother by association. Pretty basic learning, with some old-earth history woven in. She grew into a pretty strong teen from life spent out in the sun and farm-related labour. The simple life.
Three Hills wasn't necessarily involved in much of anyone else's business. It was independent, it governed itself. So really, any problems that occurred were naturally just local issues. The bigger cities and local powers came from places like Martock, Veryan and Kirkwall. Power-struggles came in the form of one side wanting one thing, and the other side wanting another - naturally, that 'one thing' was usually expansion. A fight for more control, or more land. Martock and Kirkwall were the top contenders in this fight, civil war breaking out between their two borders. Veryan was a lot more neutral on the matter, and it's people stayed up in the north where they belonged for the most part. St Keyne, and it's sister city of St Martin, were both far south of Martock, affiliated with the capital as part of the Western Trade Organisation. That whole area was generalised into being known as the 'Drift', all surrounded by dry and barren lands with a bit of greenery here and there. So when this war broke out, people were called to arms. A lot of those fighting fit in St Keyne didn't want to lose their land. A lot of them went to join up, Edith's father and brother included. It left the town pretty vulnerable, and ironically, their land was left to an even greater risk. The day the Silverton Cartel rolled up into St Keyne was when things changed for Edith. She was just growing into her own. The bread-winner for her and her dear mother. Seventeen at the youngest, had to be. She'd been too young when the war started to join up, and Mrs Hunter had refused to let the boys take her daughter away as well. But that didn't help keep her from falling in with the Cartel. They paid well, they taught her how to fight, and they had a liking for her smarts and quick wit. She was a spirited sort, so it amused the men to see her stand up for herself. The Cartel were bad people - there was no denying that. They were liars, thieves and murderers, but they also protected the town from bandits. The fighting was too far away, supposedly far enough not to reach these dusty, southern towns. Well, unless Kirkwall's forces rolled over Martock's and then it'd be another story entirely. So really, they turned into the lesser of any other evil around. Edi picked up their bad habits. She stole, she cheated and she drank. A few years later and she was pretty much roughened up for life in harsher territories, thanks to a man by name of Finley Crowe. He took the kid under his wing, steered her down the appropriately bad paths, but held this sense of personal professionalism about him. He was a good teacher, but obviously a bad influence. Only got in with the Cartel because the pay was good. Called himself a career mercenary, and oddly enough held a certain level of respect with the rest of Silverton's finest.
The war ended, after a gruelling five years of back and forth - which hadn't really amounted for anything in the long run but an eventual cease fire, a shakily-written treaty and a tense relationship for years to come - and her father and brother came safely home. Lot of other folks never made it. They found their town changed, and with the majority of them wounded in combat, they had to settle for living with the Cartel. Although, it didn't last long for Conall. Being under their thumb frustrated him, and the eldest Hunter sibling headed offworld for better work and a better life - just like that. No hesitation, and not wanting to waste his life away on Three Hills. Their father came back with some permanent damage to his left leg, and his ability to get around dwindled into an early retirement, though still liked to teach the local kids some choice survival skills.
To say Edith doesn't remember when her memory started to fail would be a rather redundant statement. While, today, she has no idea what caused it or why, back then it was a much more simple answer. A rather hazy sixth months spent in recovery due to one very temperamental mare a farm or two over. It had gotten loose, jumped the fence and Edith had attempted to help the other farmhands reign the wild creature in. Safe to say, her part in it didn't really aid the success of returning it to the pen. One case of being trampled by hooves later, and Edith was laid up for months with little to no idea of what was going on - and those were the good days. The up-side of this being she hadn't died as a result. As with all wounds, she eventually healed and was glad to no longer be bedridden. Now, there hadn't been many issues at first. Her recollection of the last few months was sketchy at best, but Edith didn't encounter any permanent problems for at least a few more months. Sure, she found herself getting a little forgetful, however that could've been a number of factors. It might have just equated to the stress involved with working for the Cartel.
That was nothing compared to what happened next. Expansion was always the issue. No matter where or when in the 'Verse, someone was always going to want more than they already had. The Silverton Cartel were pretty content with owning St Keyne and it's surrounding land. Ambition could only stretch so far with Anton Castillion - the Cartel's leader, and St Keyne's new 'mayor' - and he and his boys were quite comfortable where they were. Of course, they weren't the only cartel or small-time crime syndicate out there. A group had been rolling south from up north - a Veryan gang that had been growing with some considerable influence since the end of the war. They had decided to branch out; get themselves a piece of the land out in the Drift. They had rolled into St Martin, found some profit in it, but didn't want to stop there. They set their sights on St Keyne, the next town over, and weren't taking 'get the rut outta town' for an answer. They trickled in slowly over a few months. Travellers, traders, or even just tourists. When Castillion caught on - he wasn't at all fast on the matter - that was when shit hit the fan. An all-out battle for one small city. And Edith Hunter found herself right in the middle of it. Naturally, that wasn't the worst of it. Amidst a scuffle with one of those Veryan invaders, Edith took a pretty solid knock to the head. It sent her staggering, dazed. As she tried to clear her vision, the world slowed down around her. This sluggish feeling that made her instantly want to throw up. When she got enough power under her to stand straight and lift a gun, she realised a sudden piece of vital information was missing. Well, mostly everything about what was currently happening. The fight? This mini-war? Edith couldn't remember how it started, or why. Or - and here is the most worrying part - which side she was even on.
When one man came barrelling through the saloon doors, Edith panicked, and fired. The one thing that managed to stick in her mind was the look in that man's eyes as she fired. They had been full of confusion, and recognition. Clearly, he had known her - and Edi? Pretty certain that she had shot the wrong person. That was confirmed mostly by the next man she met, yelling 'Hunter, Hunter!' at the dazed young woman and shaking her by the shoulders to try and snap her out of her shock. 'Where's Crowe? What happened to Crowe?', he kept talking, still trying to get through to her. Edith had glanced across the way, and he'd followed her line of sight. He looked among the few bodies littering the old bar-room floor. 'Aw shit! Ruttin', no good Veryan hun dans!'. The curses had gone on, and Edith had remained shaken, dragged around by this other member of the Cartel that who's name kept escaping her. He didn't survive the fight, either. A lot of folks ended up in a grave earlier than they planned. Including the main man himself - Castillion having taken a bullet just as his boys mowed the leader of this little invasion force down. So, all in all, everything sorted itself out. The Cartel was done for, and the remaining stragglers all decided that it wasn't worth it in the end. St Keyne got it's freedom back, but Edith wasn't quite the same any more. Scared, for the most part. So Hunter's time on Three Hills, according to her, was up. It was time to get away and figure out what was wrong. She didn't tell a single soul about what happened, and all her family got was this hastily-written letter and an empty room.
After Three Hills, she just drifted, wandering lost in a big galaxy and scraping up work where she could find it. Edi lived her day to day trapped in a constant state of anxiety and waiting for the moment when everything fell apart again. Her memory was getting a little worse as each month went on by. Holes were starting to form. A few old memories lost. It was a problem she had just had to deal with - or come to terms with. This was her life now, and she was stubborn enough not to let it hold her back.
About a year later she found herself joining a mercenary guild known as the Hired. A shady business with enough legality to keep it afloat and out of issue with the local authorities - in so much that they couldn't really touch them - but they had a level of organisation that kept Edith to a pretty firm schedule. They organised the jobs, and even ran a few training programs - nothing fancy. Basic techniques and advice from some of the more veteran members. This was also where she met her dear friend, Vanessa. Now, when I say 'dear friend', I mean this was probably the closest relationship Edith was going to have for a while. A face that she will always try to remember. She and Nessa were the same, essentially. Two women with equal skill and equal level of violent intentions. All they wanted at the end of the day was to get paid - and paid well. Nothing was personal. It was just a job. So Hunter had her first close friend - if she were feeling more sentimental, 'bff'. Sometimes they even worked together on jobs, but there was always a bit of friendly rivalry. To this day, Hunter was never sure if Blythe actually knew her secret, but if she did? It didn't look like she was ever going to bring it up. The sensation of having someone to trust was an odd feeling. Yet it was nice to have.
The Hired got Edith her first long-term gig with a ship called the Ambrose Light. Up until now the work had been temporary to the point of brief security details or bolstering an existing force for some operation or another. The Captain was a lady that went by the name of Elektra. Pirate-type. Gunrunner. Smuggler. Even had a pet parrot. Small-time, but someone you wouldn't rightly mess with. Though it only lasted just under a year, she did good work, she got paid, and the Hired got their cut of the deal. Everyone was happy. Well, except maybe the criminal leaders losing some of their business because of these organised mercs. Or, one such leader who was trying to make good with her own personal security force. Their headquarters was a rather sizeable space-station floating out close to Persephone's personal space, and that was starting to create a little bit of a conflict of interest. And when you think of Persephone, which name just happens to come to mind first? You guessed it. Minerva Colt. Plenty of times she had offered to buy out the Hired, yet they just wouldn't budge. The administration were a bunch of individuals nobody ever really saw. It was all handled from person to person, down a long line and at the start, Minerva tried to do things peacefully - hilarious notion, I know - because business was business and they could all profit from them just working under her. Or she could have them all wiped out - it was their choice. Again, they denied the criminal queen's offer. So instead of just taking them by force, she decided to teach them a lesson. Why waste resources on a bunch of mercs, right? Colt wanted to see them go out quietly with a whimper, and that is exactly how things went.
Money was, and always will be, an important tool. And what was it that mercenaries - or most of them - were in this dangerous line of work for? The coin. So how much buys some cheap and temporary loyalty? A fair amount. Enough to cover over however much of a cut the Hired allowed them to have. All it took was one mole and a handful of dirty little secrets. A couple of these included robbing their own employees blind of more money than they were getting - which a person kind of had to see coming from this sort of organisation - and apparently a lot of selling their people out to authorities. A lot of them had been former criminals, or current. And The Hired were making money off bounties. So, of course, this caused the whole house of cards to collapse in on itself. The CEOs, the people in charge? Whoever they were, they just up and vanished. And the mercs? Well, Colt assured them they wouldn't go without work. They'd find a home somewhere so long as they were ready to play by her rules.
Now, there are two stories to this 'mole' that was planted, or bribed from within. One such explanation is that Edith Hunter took a substantial bribe to go digging for dirt. It's that possible truth that was excepted and assumed by a number of folks - and of course, Edith herself hasn't the slightest recollection on the matter, naturally. Could be she was manipulated, or it could be the other explanation that she was framed - the fall-guy for Minerva's mole.
With the Hired gone, disbanded and absorbed into Persephone's own personal crime life, Edith disappeared off the radar. She doesn't recall turning down Colt's offer to follow along with the other mercs, but she obviously must have, considering the path she went down. So where did she end up next? On a small ship called the Freelancer, stuck working with the most annoying hun dan that had ever graced her presence. Roy Skinner was a man of many principles. One being that he worked for himself, even if he worked for everyone else. An organisation like the Hired had 'terrible idea' written all over it for him, and of course, the fact it all fell through finally confirmed his suspicions. It happened shortly thereafter, with Edi down on her luck and all that good skill going to waste. She had lost all contact with Vanessa, so she really was completely on her own. To say she 'met' Roy would imply they started talking over polite drinks, when it reality they met blow-for-blow in the middle of a fight he had instigated - calling her a washed-up piece of Hired scum. So after beating each other senseless, Roy had grinned through his bloody lip and asked her if she wanted to work with a real mercenary. Naturally, Edith had almost knocked the head off his shoulders in response, though considering how equal their level of breaks and bruises, it wasn't much of a win. Next day? She agreed to his offer. It was possible some sliver of insanity had gripped at her common sense, but, well, it was better than being stranded. Maybe.
The man was unprofessional, inconsistent and always, always never seemed to have any kind of tactical plan until the last minute. Hunter spent two years working jobs with a man she couldn't stand, and unfortunately, also grew close with. It happens, you know? One minute you're fighting, and the next you're-- you get the picture. It wasn't really a relationship, and it definitely wasn't love. Let's not get things twisted. Considering, until this point, any kind of intimacy that Edith could recall had always been a string of meaningless and brief encounters that she didn't rightly remember most of - and there hadn't been a lot. So, this was probably the closest thing to a very dysfunctional relationship in her books. No surprise when it got a little strained. Somehow - magically - Edith hadn't had too many problems remembering this asshole. Unfortunately hard to forget, as she'd put it. And yet the day Roy found out? It actually terrified Hunter that she'd let slip her one big weakness. It had started with an argument - of course - some guy with a grudge had turned up to exact a little revenge. A guy she was certain she had never met. Apparently 'sorry, pal, you've got the wrong person' never went down well with someone who was adamant in their cause, and could actually remember more names and faces than a good solid handful. Roy had pressed her about it after the fact. He had questioned and backed her into a corner until all she could scream in his face was 'I don't remember!' after trying to reiterate it over and over. That was when he started connecting the dots. All the times he'd had to remind her of the little things, or even something a bit bigger. It had just seemed like her being arrogant - not paying attention. Apparently, that was a front. With that revelation hanging in the air, Hunter knew things between her and Roy had to end. At least, that was the only way she knew how to deal with it. Cut ties, run off, start again.
Hunter's answer to intimacy issues aside, she went back out into the big wide 'Verse alone, but still had this wealth of experience behind her. No matter what went wrong, Edith always had a means to keep herself going. Even on hard times, there was always something. Luckily, this time she had the good fortune to end up on Persephone, instead of the pigu-end of nowhere. Plenty of opportunity, and prospects. Of course, those prospects usually started with Minerva Colt and ended with Onas Knox. Edith didn't go for 'big time' off the bat. Minerva had a good set-up, but with all the reputation she had built... something about it was always off-putting. Plus, there was that old, old issue that nagged at the back of her mind. Never quite knowing if she herself had been a sell-out for Colt's pocket change. So she stuck to the little leagues. Tyrone Maxwell, an offshoot businessman for the ever-growing Syndicate name. He had decided, in his own arrogance, to cut off contacts and attempt to start up his own racket over in Teporatz. His security force had needed organising, and with a good amount of experience and at least a reputation in the 'hired gun' circles, Hunter was a welcome choice to work with his security - tighten it up, give it the works. Then, on one fine day, Onas Knox himself and his rather thorough people came rolling through. With the offer of surrender on the table, she had put aside personal and professional pride in order to survive. And then, Knox left those that remained with a choice of three options: 'Execution, extradition, or exoneration?'
It was the start of her beautiful career as a hand-picked Enforcer for the Syndicate. When the question had been asked, more directly, to her, Edith had decided to take the offer Knox had laid on the table. A part of her thought - with the man's growing infamy - that this might be a bad idea. She wasn't on the straight and narrow, but she wasn't a completely terrible person. More a weapon, than a killer. An executioner? Either way, Hunter soon came to realise that Onas Knox was not the monster that people were painting him as - the man could barely even fight! Everything was just a subject of circumstance. A whole lot of necessary evils that were difficult for a crime syndicate to avoid. So she worked her way up the ranks, she sharpened her skills, and honed some new ones. She met the known faces to match with the rumours they left out in the big wide world. And she became one of them herself in the process. Just this name, or this face that was generally mistaken for anyone else in Knox's employ that was both female and known for their violence. Edith was there, predominantly, to help with Onas's war against Minerva Colt. Initially, it might have been her goal to avoid something that big, but she was a gorram professional, and this was the game she wanted to play. It was go big or go home, and Edith took to the idea of bringing down the tyrant Queen of Persephone's reign purely for her own personal accomplishments. Not to brag about, just to say she did it - that she was there.ROLEPLAY SAMPLE
A sharp intake of breath. A gasp for air that was the good ol' human body looking to survive with the immediate inhale to fill the lungs, to pump that oxygen around the bloodstream. It caused the figure to arch, and then of course, immediately sputter and cough. That precious air smelled of smoke, it felt a little warm off to the far left. The only thoughts that littered her mind were the words breathe and steady. This human instinct to self-calm herself in order to not choke to death. She remained low, on her hands and knees in this ditch of sand. The first disorientated thought when lofting her head over the little mini dune that blocked her vision ahead had to be, where the gui am I?, with the rather odd surroundings not providing much of an answer just yet. Firstly, it was dark - or what she initially thought was 'night-time', only to realise that there were walls around her. Very spread-out, but walls nonetheless. A building. A huge, old skyscraper that was filled from the bottom up with what an educated guess would assume was sand from a desert that had no doubt overtaken the ruins in countless storms. That little revelation aside, the next one was as her eyes panned around to the left, and the answer to her nagging question of that smoke and fire. One of the far walls had been decimated by the nose and front - almost half - of a crashed dropship.
The blood on the cracked viewscreen was a firm indicator that at least the pilot, or co-pilot hadn't gotten the chance to want to survive. The ship itself also looked like an obvious no-go as her means of getting out of here.
It was as her head whipped around for an exit, stumbling down the side of the small dune, that she saw the bodies. Not dead from the crash. Riddled with bullets. A couple had a few arrows plunged deep into exposed weak-points. She found herself staring distantly at the shaft that jutted out from the side of some poor slob's neck. There was a quick break-away from that to look down at her gear. Tactical, light and coloured what could only be assumed were shades of 'urban desert'. The thing that got her was not a lot of anyone matched. No uniforms. Just mishmashes of tactical garb that could have meant anything. Another instinctual action kicked in as she bent to loft up a pistol at her feet. Something familiar in the grip and weight of it. There was a mechanical rhythm all it's own to how she checked the mag, and loaded a bullet into the chamber. It fit snugly in the holster at her thigh.
There was one question she had avoided asking herself. One thing other than 'where am I?' or 'what the hell happened here?'. Something that, as the words rose up in the back of her mind, brought with it a rising bubble of panic. She was about to ask herself. She was about to step on that threshold of lost control and insecurity until there was the static hiss in the headset at her right ear.
"Hunter? Hunter where the hell are you?"
Hunter. It brought a semi-wash of relief over her tensed features, gloved, almost shaky hands gripping into fists before she pressed her finger against the comm unit.
"Uh. Dunno." Honesty was the best policy after all.
"Quick fuckin' around, woman. What's your position?" The voice, through all the static and irritation, was at least identifiable as female.
"Look for the dropship. And the smoke. And possibly the fire, too. You can't miss it." As she spoke, she walked around all the dead, checking to make sure they were, in fact, the dead, and snatched up an MP5 for her troubles.
"I see it, jackass. Coming up on your position - south entrance. Hold your fire."
A part of that didn't settle well with Hunter. Well, all of it didn't settle well. Nothing since she came to had really amounted to anything particularly reassuring. Her gaze cast over towards the one entrance she could actually see - had to be the south. It was more of a small hole in the wall that led out into another corridor that also had a hole in the wall. She kept to the edge of that inner entrance, hugging the damaged structure with the MP5 gripped comfortingly within her hands.
When a shadow was cast, and the outline of a figure came through into the corridor, Hunter backed up, pressing to the wall. She heard a scrape, directly on the other side. No doubt the other person had the same idea. Then silence. Nothing. Neither of them moved or dared to breathe. Was this the woman she'd been expecting, or was it another of the people that might be affiliated with a few of those dead back the other way?
"Psst. Hunter?" Well, that answered that.
"Yeah?" She whispered back.
"Ta ma de, Hunter..." The woman ground out those lowered words as she rounded carefully into the lobby-that-was. Not a lot of difference in gear, but the PDW tucked into the crook of her arm was a mite fancier than most of the weapons the rest of these guys had been carrying.
That was around when Hunter lofted her weapon, levelled it on the doorway as this woman came on through, and before anyone could say anything, she unloaded a few controlled bursts through that opening. There was a pause, immediate silence as that staccato died out to nothing. Hunter stood with the weapon still raised, watching as the body of a darker-clad, and armed individual dropped down to the floor with a rattle of gear as they loosed the gun in their hands. Opposite her, and a little off to the side of her aim, was the other woman. They both quietly regarded the dead man, both bringing their gaze around to exchange a glance.
"You did say just you, right?"
"Yeah. Nice shot."
It was a beat or two of them both loitering around before the other spoke up again. Impatience in her tone as she motioned towards the hole in the wall.
"Come on. Evac should be on it's way. Let's get off this rock and outta this ruttin' mess." She checked out the partial corridor, both ways, before taking point.
Hunter followed shortly after, pausing in the doorway to peer back into the lobby area, and frown. A gloved hand touched her shoulder, tapping it twice.
"Hey. You good?"
As her gaze lingered just a little while longer, she responded distantly, "Yeah. I'm good."
Roleplay Experience: 10+ years.
How You Found DoS: It's a secret.
Other Characters on the Site: Sam & Anya.
Preferred Method of Contact: PM.
Anything else:
Personal Armory
--Beretta 90Two
--Smith & Wesson Model 686 Plus ( 7-shot capacity )
--Archery Research (AR-34) Compound Bow ( Custom )
Password: KXQWHU
