"Everybody out here is trying to survive, and I'm no different. Give me a gun in one hand, and I'm useless. However, a deal done in the linguistic arts on the other hand..."Name: Cassidy Junison (pronounced 'Yuu-ni-sun'), or "Cass" for short.
Age: 23
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Karma: Neutral
Faction: Wildcard
Reputation: N/A
SPECIAL:•
Strength: 3
•
Perception: 3
•
Endurance: 5
•
Charisma: 10
•
Intelligence: 10
•
Agility: 6
•
Luck: 3
Level: 1
Perks: • Seductive [1]
• Soothing Voice [1]
Height: 5'9
Weight: 158
Body type: Average human body type, thin due to lack of consistent meals on his travels. The young man has pathetic muscle mass compared to other hard working joes, who have to put in real back-breaking work. His reliance on his natural charisma and intelligence is evident in this particular case. Beyond these details, no notable mutations from the common human Wastelander in body type.
Hair style: Dark brown mature hair that goes down as far as his neck, seemingly cut by scissors. The strands of hair are awfully rough to the touch in comparison to how it appears at first glance. As much as Cassidy takes care of his hair the best that he can, he doesn't have enough supplies to keep consistent upkeep of it in his travels. The color can be easily mistaken for pure black, and is parted in the center, or (leagues more likely) simply pulled back.
Eyes: His steel-colored eyes which, if looked at closely, has splashes of blue and brown in them. Beyond the color of his iris, his eyes maintain a healthy white to them more often then not, not surprising for those who know of his personal aversion to chems like Jet, Mentats, and Steady.
Skin color: Fairly smooth white skin, but being of Caucasian descent, this is to be expected. He has acquired a fair amount of scars on his chest and legs to prove that he has been in a couple of firefights (and the receiving end of a gun), but these are often seen under his clothing, never taken off in the eyesight of strangers he doesn't attempt to know or feel safe around.
Other: N/A
Image: N/A
Psychical Description: Cassidy is a sentimental man, yet deeply afraid of commitment to an idealistic cause or idea because of how often he has seen that turned around on its believers. The people he values the most are the ones that stick by him through thick and thin, and don't abandon him as soon as he is a burden. Like most ordinary Wastelanders, he has the deep instinctual fear of death that was rightfully instilled in humanity.
While there are many times that the ideals of a movement brought him to action, he never lingered for long, and he was always back to the trusted road he came to know and love in his younger years.
The same routine went for the girls he was hurt by, and the girls that thought they were in love with him. He had gained a reputation for being a proper Casanova, especially within the small communities he visited. The few things that motivate him in life is making ends meet, the calming warmth of a lady, a nice shot of whiskey to relax him, adventure, and hearing the strings sing off of his guitar.
Inventory:
- Main Weapon: N99 10mm pistol
- Secondary Weapon: Dull combat knife, in low condition. An almost unfair amount of rust on the surface. Perfect for tetanus!
- Helmet: N/A
- Mask: A full face gas mask, crafted together from parts unknown on his journey to Hawaii. It was forged by the acquaintances he made on his adventure, along with the basic crafting recipe for low quality filters they had given him. Unfortunately, due to the poor conditions involved in the construction of this mask, it requires constant repairs. He considers it more trouble then it is worth, yet keeps it around for old times sake.
- Goggles: N/A
- Clothes: A torn up khaki parka that still allows the user to maintain proper warmth on a cold day, along with gray jeans resembling some seen in old world fashion magazines, both lovingly cared for and sewn up after each and every tear. He has reliable winter boots that have served him well across a variety of climates.
- Armor: No armor to speak of.
- Backpack: A faded yellow civilian backpack that appears to have seen a lot of use in helping carry the items precious to him. His dearest guitar that he brings with him wherever he goes in its beloved case has left its imprint on the left side of the backpack, having rubbed off whatever yellow it had.
- First Accessory: A home-made gas mask, constructed with care. A faded engraving can be seen on its surface, "Susie's Favorite".
- Second Accessory: A fairly worn small backpack, allowing him to carry two more items.
- Other:
A functional compass, kept in his pack and away from prying eyes.
A small pack of metal strings, meant to be used for his guitar. It is in the bottom of his backpack, in a relatively taken care of plastic bag.
He carries an acoustic guitar in a light, metal case. The mahogany guitar itself can't be identified by the old world company that manufactured it, the letters of the make and model long since faded. The strings play beautifully in Cassidy's fingers, tuned to utter perfection, in sharp contrast to its hand-me-down appearance.
Defect of the Character: • Chronic Alcoholic
• Distinct fear of being alone
• Significant
Philophobia• Moderate
Athazagoraphobia• Pacifistic Nature
Aspiration: Becoming a medical professional in the wasteland, serving a consistent use for the community he chooses to stay at.
Other details: • Dislikes slavery.
• Abhors cannibalism.
• No particular faith in any religion.
• Believes every life is precious, notable for the way the world has turned out.
• Appreciates old world poetry and books, wherever he finds them.
Background story: Born in southern Nevada without a father figure, his mother raised him to become a strapping young man. She wasn't entirely without assistance the years she had him, however, as the emissaries from the Followers of the Apocalypse had helped educate the child in the more complicated subjects that his mother couldn't. Cassidy was taught an exceptionally rare gift among the inhabitants of the Wastelands when he was a boy, and that was how to play the guitar. His mother had a generations-old guitar she had inherited, and gave it to him after he had learned everything she had to teach.
He left his home and loving mother after she had passed naturally from old age, a rarity in the Mojave Wasteland. Regardless of how peaceful her death was, he never wanted to stay in his home, with all of its sickeningly sweet memories reminding him of what the world had lost. In his grief, he traveled, likening the journey to an old poem he had read by Robert Frost, words that cling to him to this day. Distant as he was from the event in miles, the loss always had a grip on him and he had learned to live with it.
The five year journey that he had taken to Hawaii was a long and complicated one, bringing him through the infamous capital of sin-- New Reno, and to the famed NCR capital of Shady Sands, where the nation had begun from humble beginnings. There were plenty of wonderful towns along the way, sure, and many beautiful young women he still remembers fondly, but none satisfied what he had wanted the most in life. Present day, he yearns for a purpose that will not divide him, and his nomadic nature has lead him to Honolulu.
Subject: Cassidy Junison 
