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Howdy, folks.
Now's a time to showcase your excellent character backgrounds. This one happens to be an NPC.
Sveinbjorn is a human Knight who makes a living as the commander of a mercenary band. When he started his path down knighthood his small kingdom was at war on 2 fronts. He was the prime example of what a knight and chivalry is. When he was knighted, he requested that his father give him his inheritance money in advance so he could support king and country. His friends (also knights) did likewise and they raised an army of 200 men to march on one of the provincial capitals under siege by barbarian hoards from the north. They arrived just in time to save the day but at a high cost. Knowing that there would be more barbarians within the next 5 months, he sent a rider to the kingdom capital declaring victory and requesting immediate relief. The king personally saw the rider and sent him back with a detailed letter, acknowledging his family, prowess in battle and sincere gratitude for not letting the city fall along with 4 of his royal guards as a token of good-will. 1 year later, the city has been attacked multiple times and no relief had been sent. A second letter was sent to the king. The rider was turned away at the gates with a note saying, "Dear Commander on the NORTHERN front. As you know we are at war with many other kingdoms. I cannot give up any forces to support you at this time. Hold fast." Sveinbjorn felt betrayed and forgotton by his king and country. After taking a vote from all of the nobles still alive, they decided to abandon the town and take up the mercenary career, vowing never to be dependent on a king or kingdom ever again...

The background I came up with for the character I am using in the PBP game on The Storm Watch Forums. Character name is Dorod, 4th son of Bazbir, 7th House of Clan Darfik (western kingdom dwarf). Concept, including clan information, was entirely conceived some time after midnight one evening while watching a Harry Potter movie.

Background
From the records of the great library: All of the dwarven houses in clan Darfik provide specific services to the clan as a whole. And the services provided by each house are specific to that house, and cannot be performed by members of another house. The 8 houses, and their specific services, are:

1. 8th House, Dwarven Emperor of clan Darfik, his wife, concubines, and the remainder of the Royal Family. Members of this house are the royal family, and pretty much run the dwarven kingdom.

2. 7th House, Royal Guard of clan Darfik. The dwarves in the 7th house are responsible for defense of the emperor and his family, the kingdom, and the warrens in which they live.

3. 6th House, Mining. The dwarves in the 6th house are responsible for digging the tunnels and mining for all precious metals. It has been rumored that a new vein of gold has been found in the lowest tunnels, but this has not yet been confirmed.

4. 5th House, Smithing. The dwarves in the 5th house are responsible for all metal-working projects, such as weapon- and armorsmithing, as well as the creation of any metal objects needed by other houses such as cooking utensils and pick axes.

5. 4th House, Engineering. The dwarves in the 6th house are responsible for overseeing any projects that require specific engineering, and determine if the projects can be carried out with no harm to other dwarves. This house works very closely with the 6th House.

6. 3rd House, Domestic Services. The dwarves in this house are responsible for all domestic services except for sanitation and child-care. Cooking and laundry are the major responsibilities, and while one may think that this is a pretty lame-sounding house, it should be mentioned that farming, hunting, and brewing of ale are also included in the duties of this house.

7. 2nd House, Child-Care. The members of this house are responsible for providing child-rearing services to the remainder of the clan. All children are under the care of the members of this house until they reach adolescence (somewhere around 17 years old), at which time a ceremony is held to determine which house they will belong to for the rest of their lives.

8. 1st House, Sanitation. Unfortunately, the dwarves in this house are responsible for providing cleaning services to the remainder of the clan. This includes cleaning the tunnels and removing waste from the warrens.

As mentioned above, at the time a dwarf reaches adolescence, he or she must go through a special ceremony where it is determined which house he or she will be a member of for the rest of his or her life. Once the house is determined, that dwarf is given all of the proper training to be a member of that house, and all of the duties that go along with that house are now expected out of that dwarf. And while it is highly uncommon to see, it is possible that family members (with the exception of the royal family - all born into the royal family are always members of the 8th house) are split across multiple houses.
End of text

Dorod was assigned to the 7th house during the ceremony for his adolescence, placing him in the service of the royal guard. After initial weapons training and skill honing, he was sent out and ordered to go forth into the world and do some adventuring to strengthen his combat mind and to knock the luster as his old mentor would say off him. And once reaching a level of skill he believes acceptable (5th level) he should, like all the dwarves of his house, return to the warrens for his permanent orders.

Upon returning, most are relegated to providing protective services to the clan directly. Some are given the order that they are to continue adventuring, returning once every few years to give news and updates of the world outside. Dorod has been adventuring for many moons and feels he still has many moons yet to go till he returns.

Sgt Karl Dennhardt, 5th Level NGR Intel Commando

NGR Infantry Personell Report
File: 18-004-4547
Subject: Karl Dennhardt, Sgt., 2nd Infantry Division, E-Company

Karl Dennhardt had a hard life growing up, and an even harder one upon reaching adulthood. Karl never knew his parents. He was raised by his godfather because his parents were killed in a Brodkil raid on their town. During the Brodkil’s killing spree, they somehow overlooked the small baby hidden in the overturned crib. His mother put him in the corner and put the crib over him just moments before she was ripped from the nursery. Consequently, Karl never knew his parents.

His godfather was a research scientist for Triax industries. He always claimed his family went back hundreds of generations (or thousands depending on how boastful he was being). All the way back to the time before the rifts, and even as far back in the past when Germany had kings and queens. No one ever really believed him, but he had an ornate dagger he kept on his desk that he claimed proved his ancestry.

When Karl was a young boy, one of his best friends, Vincent, was killed right in front of him. While out late at night, when they shouldn’t have been, he and his friend were attacked by drug addicts. Vincent tried to act tough and got a knife in the belly for it. Karl was so scared that he ran all the way home without looking back once. It wasn’t until the next day that he found out his best friend had died. He made a promise to himself that day to never turn his back on a friend again.

As Karl grew up, he realized that he was not like all the other kids at school. He always seemed to know when something bad was about to happen. After a brief period of ridicule by his classmates, he realized that it was best to keep these premonitions to himself. The only person that really knew about them was his friend Joseph.

Throughout his teenage years Karl and Joseph became fast friends. Joseph was a year younger than Karl, so Karl felt the need to protect him. He wasn’t about to let what happened to Vincent happen to Joseph. Unfortunately, Joseph was not that good of an influence on Karl. The two would frequently skip school together, and soon became involved in organized crime. Working for one of the crime families in Munich, they committed petty theft and vandalism on a regular basis. They also developed an extensive network of underworld contacts. But when they tried their hand at a little computer hacking, they were quickly caught.

Because they were only 18 and 17 at the time, and the NGR was short on recruits, they were offered a deal. Join the NGR and avoid a prison sentence. Karl and Joseph both accepted. The very next year they were involved in a major battle. During the battle, Karl and Joseph led a daring raid on a gargoyle strong point and were able to destroy it. This turned the tide of the battle, and both were decorated for heroism and promoted to Corporal.

Awarded Meritorious Service Ribbon. Service Record Updated.
Promoted to Corpral. Service Record Updated.

After serving for two years in the infantry, and escaping some pretty hairy situations, their platoon sergeant realized how well they worked together as a team. He recommended them both for intelligence commando training.

Transferred to Intelligence Division. Service Record Updated.

Intelligence Commando Training Completed. Service Record Updated.
Transferred to Intelligence Command, Munich. Service Record Updated.

After a year of training, Karl and Joseph were once again sent to the front lines, this time as commandos attached to a forward recon squad. Once again, they were involved in a major battle, but this time things didn’t turn out so well. During the battle, Karl was acting as a forward observer when his position was hit by friendly artillery fire. He was found by Joseph after the battle missing his left arm and nearly dead from blood loss. He was fitted with a bionic replacement and sent back to battle.

Bionic Replacement Authorized by Capt. James Richards. Service Record Updated.
Cleared for full combat duty by Capt. James Richards. Service Record Updated.

About a year later, while on another recon mission, this time against the Brodkil, his unit was ambushed by a superior force of demons. During the battle, Karl was disarmed, literally. He was just about to take a shot on one lone Brodkil he thought he had snuck up on, when three more appeared seemingly out of nowhere and attacked him. Seeing the bionic arm, they immediately relieved him of it. He drew his sidearm and attempted to fight back, as did Joseph who was rushing to his aid. He tried to shout a warning to retreat, and that they were outnumbered, but it was too late. As Joseph came out from behind a tree, he was shot several times in the chest. The Brodkil lasers burned straight through his armor and chest alike. Karl was again the witness of his best friend’s death. Karl went mad trying to avenge Joseph, but was quickly subdued and knocked out by the Brodkil.

Cpl. Karl Dennhardt, MIA, presumed dead. Record Closed.

Cpl. Karl Dennhardt, POW recovered. Service Record Re-opened.
Medical Evaluation Required. Service Record Updated.
Cpl. Karl Dennhardt, Reinstated at former rank, pending medical eval.

But that was only the beginning of his nightmare. Drifting in and out of consciousness over the next several days, Karl remembers very little of what happened after his capture. He was given rudimentary medical aid by the Brodkil, but only enough to keep him barely alive. He was taken to a clearing in a forest where the Brodkil met with a strange woman. He remembers wondering what a full conversion ‘borg was doing meeting with Brodkil in this remote wilderness. As it turns out, they were brokering a deal. In exchange for Karl and his recently removed bionic arm, the Brodkil would receive several MOM conversions. It was at this point that Karl was handed over to the woman he would come to know as the Angel of Death.

Over the next few months, Karl learned new definitions for the words pain and agony. One of the nice things about NGR surgeons is that they at least use anesthetic when performing surgery. The Angel of Death did not. He would frequently pass out from the pain of having a new bionic arm installed, or having his skull sawed open, but the Angel of Death was a patient woman, and would always wait for him to awaken to continue her surgeries. It was strangely relieving to have the brain surgeries. He found that they did not seem to hurt as much. They also seemed to be strangely awakening to him, as if he had only realized a portion of his potential powers.

After two months in the Mindwerks laboratories, Karl was a changed man. He was also nearly healed, but fearful of what the Angel of Death would do to him next. When she next came to his room, he decided, he would attack her and escape. It was only fitting that she should be killed with the weapons she gave him. When next she came, Karl made his move, or rather tried to. He found that any attempt to attack her, even thinking of attacking her caused such pain in his head that he could not even move. The Angel of Death just smiled and walked away. He spent the next week in rehabilitation labs recovering his strength and testing the limits of his new augmentations. It seemed that as long as he did not act or plan to act directly against the Angel of Death, the pain stayed away.

It was another week after that that he made good his escape. He stole a rifle, ammo, and some food and snuck out of the compound. It took him three weeks to make it back through the Brodkil territory undetected. Near death and collapsing with starvation, he finally made it back to NGR held territory. Once back on his own side, he made a full report of what happened to his superiors.

Enemy weapon delivered to Triax R&D Division. Service record updated.
Medical Eval Completed. Discharge recommended.

The only proof he had for any of his story were his new bionic arm and the brain implants (psynetics). His superiors thanked him for his service, and explained that due to his new augmentations he would no longer be able to serve in the NGR. He would, in fact, be allowed only to collect his personal possessions and then be required to leave the NGR permanently. Karl was about to do something really nasty to the Colonel doing the debriefing when a voice in the back of the room spoke up. It was General Jaeger. She offered him a place in a new unit that she was creating, a Spec Ops squad like no other and for no other. Since he had no other option, he accepted. As long as he can kill Brodkil and gargoyles he’ll be happy.

Transferred to Spec Ops under General Jeager. Service Record Updated.

Medical Note: As a result of his augmentations and traumatic experiences, Karl now has occasional hallucinations, and sometimes seems distracted, as if he is listening to something that isn’t really there. Continued observation recommended.

Tanius, 3rd Level Lord Magus

Tanius was born in Dweomer in the year 84 PA. He should have had a twin brother, but despite the fact that he was born in a hospital, complications took his brother from him. To this day, his mother is still hesitant to speak of the ordeal. Tanius has an older sister and two younger brothers.

Growing up in Dweomer, Tanius was exposed to magic his entire life. He started studying magic at an early age, and was a quick learner. He also studied all kinds of lore and languages. He had some trouble with the more complex spells though, and was eventually put into the Lord Magus program. The shorter spells were a quick study for him, but the longer ones just seemed to elude him for some reason. He just didn’t have the desire to concentrate on the more complex spells, much to the disappointment of his father, a High Magus.

When Tanius was about 7 years old, he disappeared for a week, and went exploring some old Pre-Rifts ruins. While exploring some underground tunnels, he found a lode of valuable mineral resources. To this day, he’s never told anyone about them, and as far as he knows, they’re still there. A few years later, when he was thirteen, he befriended a Wolfen wilderness scout named Vialeso. The wilderness scout told him stories about life outside Dweomer and the wonders to be seen. Again his grades suffered for this, and again, much to the dismay of his father.

Five years later, Tanius had finally finished his training. It had taken him a full two years longer than most people to be able to pass the tests and finally become a full Lord Magus. His graduation was bittersweet however, for tragedy struck on his graduation day. After the graduation, Tanius learned that his father, older sister, and younger brother (who had graduated ahead of him) were all killed by the Coalition while on patrol outside of Dweomer. Tanius would never be the same again.

For four years he lobbied the powers that be in Dweomer to mount an offensive against the CS, to defend what was rightfully theirs. Or at the very least to ally with Tolkien. But alas, his words fell on deaf ears. Finally, in the year 106 PA, when he heard about the Coalition offensive against Tolkeen, he finally did the unthinkable. He asked for a sojourn from Dweomer, knowing full well what it would mean. To not learn to pilot an automaton. To be guaranteed never to learn how to make them. He didn’t care. The Coalition had to be stopped. Only too happy to be rid of Tanius, at least for a little while, The Three granted his sojourn very quickly, bidding him to return when he was ready.

Tanius left Dweomer the next day. He served at Tolkien with distinction, until the inevitable defeat was obvious. But rather than retreat to the magic zone with the rest of the refugees, Tanius did the opposite. He traveled southeast instead, into the lion’s den. Managing to elude capture wasn’t easy, but he managed it. He set up shop in the burbs, posing as just another D-Bee scraping by. But he was doing more than that. He set up a smuggling ring. Operating out of the burbs, his smugglers, himself included, would hit CS patrols, kill them, and take their gear for sale to the black market. Sometimes they would score a bonus, and hit a caravan destined to the infamous black vault. In the early days after the CS defeated Tolkien, caravans to the black vault passed close by the burbs almost daily. One shipment in particular, he had heard, was going to be carrying some very lucrative items to the black vault. Unfortunately, like all good things, Tanius’ smuggling days came to an end with that shipment. As it turned out, the CS had been on to him for a little while now, and had set this particular shipment up as a trap. Instead of crates of TW items, the back of the APC was filled with Hellion skelebots. His band of smugglers fought admirably, but in the end were no match for CS war machines. And thus Tanius found himself lying face down in the dirt, bleeding out from an abdominal wound, left for dead. It was at that moment that he came to the realization that the CS could not be defeated. Not by Tolkien, and not by him.

It was sheer luck that his Wolfen friend Vialeso happened to be in the area. Tanius had managed to crawl his way to a copse of trees, and was heating his dagger in a fire, getting ready to cauterize the wound himself when his friend found him. He treated Tanius as best he could, and the two caught up over the years they had been separated. Traveling at night and hiding by day, Tanius and Vialeso headed northeast. Skirting around Tolkien, and dodging Xiticic along the way, they eventually made their way to Old Bones. Finally fully healed, Tanius and Vialeso again parted ways. Vialeso wanted to see the ocean, since he never had before, and kept moving east. Tanius however, found himself at a crossroads. He had no desire to stay on the run, no desire to return to the burbs or try and singlehandedly bring down the Coalition, and no desire to return to Dweomer. Again it seemed that luck, or perhaps fate, stepped in again, and pointed Tanius in a direction he had not planned on. In Old Bones he met a man named Flint, who worked for a company called Titan Robotics. He was trying to find someone who had supposedly seen some pre-rifts facility of some sort. Thinking back to the time he explored that pre-Rifts city when he was a kid, and the shrinking balance on his universal card, Tanius happily accepted the job.

Sgt. Brynn Rondorwin, 3rd Level Atorian Gunnery Specialist

Brynn grew up in a relatively normal household on the Arismal homeworld. His mother was an aerospace engineer and his father was a fleet engineer on the Dart. Brynn was born with an unusual birthmark. The birthmark is a metallic blue/green stellar constellation. It is located on his left forearm.

When Brynn was seven, his parents threw a birthday party for him. When the party was over and all the guests had gone, there was a gift to him left without a card to say who it was from. It was an ornate wood box with a brass hasp. No matter what he tried he could not open it. The card only tells him that one day the contents may save his life. To this day, Brynn has not been able to open the box, although he has tried many times. He has finally decided it will open when the time is right. He always carries this box with him.

Growing up, Brynn was like many other children. He went to school, and studied hard. He did not have many friends growing up, but he did have one good friend, Kevros. While on a school trip to the planets capital, he and Kevros are kidnapped and held captive by terrorists, who seek to trade him for one of their own currently imprisoned. After two weeks, they are rescued by a crack anti-terrorist squad. The surviving terrorists blame Brynn and Kevros and vow revenge. The terrorists were religiously motivated.

Brynn did not gain as many powers growing up as some did, but he was not mundane either. Above average was fine with him. He could fly and was incredibly tough when in stone form. But it wasn’t until he started weapons training that he found his true calling. He was easily the best shot in his class with a pistol, and also very skilled with the rifle. Thus it was an easy choice for him to sign up with the fleet to be a gunnery expert. While his parents had hoped he would follow in their footsteps and become an engineer, they realized that he must also follow his dreams. He could do a lot with the weapons currently produced, but it always seemed like there should be more possible. When he was not at the target range in the academy, the other cadets could always find him in the armory, tinkering with the weapons there.

Upon graduation, Brynn hoped to be stationed along side his father on the Dart, but the military did not see that as a viable option. Instead Brynn was stationed on the A.D.F.S Dauntless. While he missed his family, he loved his new duty station. While still a crack shot with the pistol and rifle, he really loved the powerful feeling of being strapped in to the controls of the battleships rail guns and laser batteries. He also loved modifying weapons. This is how he actually discovered the full capabilities of his flight powers. While working on increasing the rate of fire of a missile battery, something went wrong and a missile detonated. Since he usually is in his stone form while working on weapons, he was not injured in the blast, but there was a hull breach. He was sucked out in the vacuum of space and thought he was dead. Strangely though, he realized that he was not. And since people do not normally answer the door when someone is knocking on an airlock from the outside in deep space, he had no way back in to the ship. He was finally forced to fly to the bridge area of the ship and knock on the window. It was a very startled conning officer that finally gave the order to open an airlock for him to reenter the ship.

In the three years that he has been on the ship he has seen some action, but nothing truly noteworthy. That was until yesterday (or today depending). Brynn was awakened several hours before his watch by the general quarter’s alarm. “What the hell is going on?” he thought as he slipped into the quad rail cannon turret he was assigned to. And then he found out. It was with utter horror that he watched Arismal, his home, and everything he loved fall to pieces before his very eyes. In stunned disbelief he watched in frighteningly magnified detail through the targeting scope as his world literally came crashing down around him. And the worst part was…there was nothing to shoot at!

Robert Cameron, 2nd Level Psi-Mechanic, BTS2

Name: Robert Charles Cameron, radioman 3rd class, USN (KIA)
Country of Origin: United States, New York City, NY
Born: Dec 25th, 1925

Robert Charles Cameron was born on Christmas. While that in itself is not terribly unusual, the circumstances of his birth certainly were. He was born in a criminal hideout with an unusual birthmark on his chest...a skull that looks so real it is hard to believe it is a birthmark at all. His father, unfortunately, was killed the day he was born. His mother and father were both in the employ of a powerful gangster and bootlegger, his mother a nurse, his father a thug and tough man. Richard J Lonergan was shot and killed Dec 25th, 1925 at the Adonis Social Club in Brooklyn New York. A one Alphonse Capone was questioned in the incident, but no witnesses could be found to dispute Capone's story that he had been at the firing range earlier that day, which explained the powder burns on his hands. Upon learning of her husband’s death, Mary Lonergan used her maiden name when she named Robert, hoping he would never find out who his father was or follow in his footsteps.

Thus young Robert grew up raised by a single mother on the streets of Brooklyn. At the age of 6, he was foraging around in a trash heap when he found an unusual item. It was an amulet of unusual design. Putting it in his pocket, he was considering selling it to get something to eat when he also came across $20! He decided at that point to keep the amulet as a good luck charm.

A couple of years later, the depression is in full swing, and his mother is no longer able to care for him. He is sent to live with his "uncle", who he suspects is no such thing. Deciding to fend for himself, Robert runs away, and strangely is never reported missing. He falls in with the wrong crowd, and is eventually fully engaged in petty theft and other crimes, a full-fledged member of a youth street gang by the age of 10.

A full three years pass before something unusual happens. For a period of several months people disappear with no explanation. Robert knew several of the victims, mostly street people and two bit thugs. Despite the police investigation (or lack thereof) the disappearances suddenly stop.

Finally, at the age of 16, Robert is really too old to be running the streets and too young to really be involved with the mob, and so decides to go it alone and get himself a job. One of his older friends has a line on the Macy's store and is able to get cheap knock offs of the latest fashions. Robert sells the clothes out of a street vendor booth in Queens. He's got a good gig going, that is, until he gets busted a couple years later. Luckily for Robert (or perhaps not) there is a war on, and the judge makes him a deal. He can either enlist in the military, or go to prison. Finally forced to face his crimes he makes the decision to join the Navy rather than go to prison.

After basic training and radioman school, was stationed aboard the USS Franklin, CV-13. The ship saw plenty of action during the war. Being the fifth ship to bear the name, The Franklin (CV-13) was launched by Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Co., Newport News, Va., on 14 October 1943; sponsored by Lieutenant Commander Mildred A. McAfee, USNR, Director of the WAVES; and commissioned on 31 January 1944, with Captain James M. Shoemaker in command.

The Franklin was involved in the battle of the Marianas, Iwo Jima, Guam, and Leyte in 1944, sinking 4 enemy carriers and numerous other warships and planes.

At twilight on the 13th of October, the Task Group came under attack by four bombers and Franklin twice was narrowly missed by torpedoes. An enemy plane crashed into Franklin's deck abaft the island structure, slid across the deck and into the water on her starboard beam. Robert began to develop an interest in mechanics at this time, and was able to help repair some of the battle damage. He could frequently be found in the machine shop tinkering with various gizmos.

Early on the 14th a fighter sweep was made against Aparri, Luzon, following which she steamed to the east of Luzon to neutralize installations to the east prior to invasion landings on Leyte. On the 16th she was attacked by three enemy planes, one of which scored with a bomb that hit the after outboard corner of the deck edge elevator, killing 3 and wounding 22. Working all hours of the night, whenever he wasn't in the radio room, Robert helped the mechanics fix the elevator so the ship could continue the fight. The tenacious carrier continued her daily operations hitting hard at Manila Bay on 19 October when her planes sank a number of ships, damaged many, destroyed a floating drydock, and bagged 11 planes.

After this attack, Robert was determined to discover a way to detect incoming Japanese aircraft sooner than radar would allow. Unfortunately, his ideas weren't perfected in time, and the Franklin was attacked again. She was underway about 1,000 miles off Samar on 30 October when enemy bombers appeared bent on a suicide mission. Three doggedly pursued Franklin, the first plummeting off her starboard side the second hitting the flight deck and crashing through to the gallery deck, showering destruction, killing 56 and wounding 60; the third discharging another near miss at Franklin before diving into the flight deck of Belleau Wood.

Both carriers retired to Ulithi for temporary repairs, of which Robert helped to execute, and The Franklin proceeded to Puget Sound Navy Yard arriving 28 November 1944 for battle damage overhaul.

Once repairs were completed, the Franklin joined another task group for strikes on the Japanese homeland in support of the Okinawa landings. On 15 March 1945, she rendezvoused with TF 58 units and 3 days later launched sweeps and strikes against Kagoshima and Izumi on southern Kyushu.

Before dawn on 19 March 1945 Franklin who had maneuvered closer to the Japanese mainland than had any other U.S. carrier during the war, launched a fighter sweep against Honshu and later a strike against shipping in Kobe Harbor. Suddenly, a single enemy plane pierced the cloud cover and made a low level run on the gallant ship to drop two semi-armor piercing bombs. Robert's desires to detect enemy planes had failed again! One bomb struck the flight deck centerline, penetrating to the hangar deck, effecting destruction and igniting fires through the second and third decks, and knocking out the combat information center and airplot. The second hit aft, tearing through two decks and fanning fires which triggered ammunition, bombs and rockets. The Franklin, within 50 miles of the Japanese mainland, lay dead in the water, took a 13° starboard list, lost all radio communications, and broiled under the heat from enveloping fires.

Many of the crew were blown overboard, driven off by fire, killed or wounded, but the 106 officers and 604 enlisted who voluntarily remained saved their ship through sheer valor and tenacity. Robert worked tirelessly for two days to help prevent further damage to the main engines, during this time. The casualties totaled 724 killed and 265 wounded, and would have far exceeded this number except for the heroic work of many survivors. Among these were Medal of Honor winners, Lieutenant Commander Joseph T. O'Callahan, S. J., USNR, the ship's chaplain, who administered the last rites organized and directed firefighting and rescue parties and led men below to wet down magazines that threatened to explode, and Lieutenant (junior grade) Donald Gary who discovered 300 men trapped in a blackened mess compartment, and finding an exit returned repeatedly to lead groups to safety. For his efforts in the firefighting and repair details, Robert was awarded the bronze star.

The Franklin was taken in tow by The USS Pittsburgh until, through the efforts of the crew, including Robert, the main engines were jury-rigged together and she managed to churn up speed to 14 knots and proceed to sail under her own power to Brooklyn, N.Y., arriving on 28 April 1945.

For his service aboard the USS Franklin, Robert was awarded the Asiatic-Paciific campaign medal, the bronze star, Navy Achievement Medal, Combat Action Ribbon, Navy Unit Commendation, Navy "E" Ribbon, Good Conduct Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Asiatic-Pacific Service Medal, Sea Service Deployment Ribbon, WWII Victory Medal, Navy Rifleman Ribbon, and the Navy Pistol Shot Ribbon.

After the war, he was transferred to Naval Air Station, Banana River FL, (now part of Cape Canaveral) where he served as an airborne radioman aboard Martin Mariner ASW flights and continued to tinker with his mechanical and electrical experiments. While the method of detecting enemy planes, and now subs, had eluded him, he had made some startling discoveries in his spare time. He had discovered that he had the ability to create and use devices that would detect things of the "spiritual" sense. Ever the superstitious sailor, Robert continued to tinker in his off time, perfecting some of his experimental devices. That was until he was called up to take part in a nighttime search and rescue mission, aboard Training Flight 49. Eager to participate, he quickly gathered his latest round of gadgets he thought he might find useful, and headed to the pre-flight briefing.

Training 49 and Training 32 departed Banana River Naval Air Station around 7:27 p.m. December 5th, 1945. Training 32 headed straight out into the Atlantic while Training 49 went north along the coast and then cut out to sea to home-in on Flight 19’s 6 o’clock radio position fix.

So far, so good. But mystery was to strike, sudden and without warning. Training 32 reported in on time, but nothing was ever heard from Training 49 again. It wasn’t until 9:12 p.m. that night that a message came over the teletype reporting the freighter Gaines Mill saw a huge fireball explode.

What actually happened to Training 49 will probably always remain a mystery. All Robert actually remembers is being in his seat at the radio console when suddenly everything went dead. It appeared that the plane had lost all electrical power. Thus he was unable to radio a mayday. Turning towards the cockpit to report the radio outage, he saw a bright greenish orange flash of light...and then darkness.

The Navy confessed to having no answer for anything that went on that night, and news headlines as much as 5 months later still read this was the “number one mystery of the naval air arm.”

Robert awoke on a soft, white sandy beach to the sounds of seagulls and gently lapping waves at his feet. Still in his flight suit, he sat up and noticed that everything seemed backwards. The sun was setting over the horizon in the west...which was ocean! "What the hell is going on here? Where the hell am I?"

"H. B. maann." a stoned sounding voice said, coming from a little ways off. Turning, Robert looks towards the sound of the voice, which belongs to a very skinny, well tanned white man with...dreadlocks? What the hell? "Yer in H.B. man. Musta got pretty wasted to no know what beach yer at." Stunned, Robert looks around, at the man, the setting sun, a few surfers out in the water..."What's H.B. Some beach I suppose?" Laughing, the dreadlocked surfer says, "Whoa, dude. You don't know what H.B. is? You must really be wasted. Huntington Beach, dude. Huntington Beach, California. Here man, wanna smoke a J?"

"Smoke a what? No. I don't smoke." Getting up off the beach, Robert takes stock of himself, gets up and heads inland. What the hell is going on around here. How the hell did I get to California? No way the plane made it this far. Where is the plane anyway? Am I the only one left? Heading across the Pacific Coast Highway, he stops at the first place that looks vaguely familliar...McDonalds. Whats with those cars? Wierd. Walking into the entrance area of McDonalds, he heads to the pay phone and grabs the phone book. While he is thumbing through the yellow pages, he realizes that people seem to be staring at him. Well, I suppose it isn't every day that they see someone in a flight suit walking around off base. But still...well, and it is California after all, however I got here. He looks up the nearest USO and finds that it is clear out at LAX. Flipping through the front of the phone book, he finds the bus route and schedule information and reads through it. $0.75 for a bus fare that only gets him halfway there!? Well, it is California. Everything is expensive here, I've heard.

Checking his pockets, he finds that he has about $13 on him in various bills and change...not a bad haul from the other night's poker game...but realizes it probably won't get him very far in L.A. Deciding that halfway there is better than nothing, he heads back out to the corner to wait for the bus...

Nice backgrounds kmspade.

Thank you! I always like having a good full background. A character just doesn't seem finished until I have his background done.

I usually try to leave GM hooks in the background too, like Brynn's box or Robert's necklace. It makes things more interesting later on.

My latest BTS character's intro (1930's game hence the slang)...


“Lucky” Lonnie Luciano

“I was one of Giuseppe’s boys. I knew no different. It was “Charlie Lucky” that had actually taken me under his wing when I was just a kid. What else was this dumb kid born to Lower Manhattan gonna do? Become a doctor? A lawyer? There’s only one way to make it in the skids and I was lucky to get the break that I did. Guess you could say that was the start of my “lucky” streak.

I saw a lot of stuff running with “Joe the Boss” and the remnants of the Morello-Terranova organization. A lot of stuff most folk would wanna try and forget. But for me it was nothing. It paled in comparison; in comparison with what I’d seen before. What I never want to see again. What, try as hard as I might, I can’t seem to forget and what I’m reminded of nearly every night since. I think I’ll always remember it. You see, that was the first time I died...

I was twelve, just a boy. Two years from being on the lam. I was an owl back then just as much as today and as I walked down Chrystie Street the only other folk around were a couple of drugstore cowboys or dumb dora’s. No one that’d notice a rag-a-muffin kid down on his luck that’s for sure. Then I heard something, or saw something, or, I dunno...felt something. It was from the second story window of the apartment block I was next to.I don’t know why but I was so curious. I wanted to; no I needed to know what it was. What had I heard, seen...felt? As I peered to try and see I knew that I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be able to. But the more I stared, the closer the window moved, the nearer the panes became until I could see right in through the gap in the curtain. I remember the blood...so much blood. There was some doll, some flapper probably lying on the bed. I only got a look at her gams briefly as what stood over her quickly stole my gaze...

It was dark in that room. I ain’t sure what I saw. But I can tell ya it weren’t no man. It weren’t no animal either and that’s on the level. Whatever the hell it was, it turned from the dame and focused its attention to me. It leaped like an animal, but it weren’t no animal I told ya. It crashed through the window as slashed me good across the chest with it’s claws. I know what you’re thinking but it weren’t no animal! I fell a good height. I don’t know how I fell but I did. I hit the pavement and was out cold. At least, I couldn’t move but I could feel. Im sure I was dead. I felt dead. Although I could feel it’s breath of me. The smell of...I dunno but I ain’t never smelt anything like it since. It nudged me twice and after a few seconds I opened my eyes. It was gone, but I was alive again.

I was covered in blood, mine as well as a little of my other bodily fluids but I was glad to be alive. Hmm, maybe that was the start of my “lucky” streak, but I don’t consider that night to be lucky. The girl was a moll, a flapper from some big cheese’s speakeasy, probably Morello’s, I forget. I recovered physically but I couldn’t get it out of my head. The nightmares keep – I mean kept y’know – kept me awake at night. The image of this beast, this thing, was clearer in my head whilst I dreamt. And the weirdest thing? Each time I woke up I could still see it. The image over and over again around my room. On the door, the wall, even on my sheets. Every night another image. It haunts me ya see. So all the rest of the stuff I’ve seen, it never phased me. What Masseria and his boys did. All the atrocities I witnessed. They never measured up.
That was the first time I died, but it’s not been the last...

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I liked Charlie. I idolised him. He showed me the ropes, taught me most of what I know. Most, but not all. Some of it came natural. As natural as walking, talking or breathing. My greatest ability, my forte, was locks. I was the darb of the Lower Manhattan burglary ring. Any type, any size, anywhere, I knew ‘em all and I never failed. I was an egg, living the big life. Still a mere boy but I was carousing in the swankiest gin mills in New York. No one dared double cross Guiseppe and no bull could pinch him for any caper. Unfortunately I took those wooden nickels or so “Lucky Charlie” thought. But I didn’t mean to. I’m no rat.

It was a big job. Rob the personal fortune of a rival mob boss’ gaff, Salvatore D’Aquila’s. Stealth was the key so there were only a few of us. I got us in, no problem but there were complications. We’d balled up. He wasn’t supposed to be but Salvatore was home. A gunfight broke out and whilst I was doing my thing on his safe, D’Aquila was shot dead as were a couple of his goons. Everything seemed Jake at that point. There were no witnesses and we quickly scrammed. Manfredi would never know it was us whether he suspected it or not and starting an all out gang war was not a smart move. But Mineo got the proof he needed. I didn’t find out until afterwards but someone had “painted” the faces of the perps on the wall of his bedroom. The room with the safe in. The room, only I went in...

I was the fall guy and I knew it. Masseria was pissed, although in the end it turned out I did him a favour. Charlie was also pissed and declared every word I spoke as baloney, but he gave me a chance to scram. It actually took some while, but eventually a couple of torpedoes caught up with me. Some hard boiled palooka’s cornered me by the south street fish market. They’d been sent to bump me off and that’s exactly what they did. After only a couple of hits that would put the “sultan of swat” to shame I was out. They took my lifeless body for a ride uptown to a place they knew in Wallabout Bay and they dumped me in the river. I remember the ride and the swim but I’d heard one of ‘em check. He’s gone, he’d said. I was dead...again.

I don’t recall what exactly happened but I remember trying to reach out to grab a girder and I had. When I awoke I found was holding on to the Williamsberg bridge. I was drenched, beaten and bruised bad. But I was breathing. That was the second time I died.

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That was four years ago, I was eighteen. Nowadays I live in Tenderloin in ‘Frisco. In honour of my mentor I go by the name of Lonnie “Lucky” Luciano and most do consider me lucky. Fate has dealt me a tough hand but at the same time it allows me to play at the high stakes table. You see, I learnt a few things since New York, a few things about myself. Don’t ask me how, or why, or why me, or what happened cos’ I don’t know and you know what I don’t care. You ask too many questions and you’ll end up dead - and that’s a topic I know about.

Remember that natural talent I told you about? My forte? Well it’s more than that. I don’t know if it was that strange encounter, these scars on my chest, but I can do things, special things. I knew I was destined to be special but this is beyond belief.
Fate guides me. I trust it and it brings me Janes, rubes and everything else I could want. Yep, you can call me “Lucky” Lonnie as well if ya like. Last night I dreamt of this vase, some oriental antique in some swanky house. When I wake, there’s a picture of this orchid on my table with a pictures of the swells house. Using my “talents” it’s easy to “aquire” and in less than an hour of visiting Fat Larry’s I’ll get a call from Mickey Finn telling me that some pushover just enquired about the very same item. It’s pure destiny! Yep, I must be lucky. My stuff is always the real McCoy and is always hot property...”


Lucky is actually a latent psychic and professional theif with the powers of levitation, death trance, open lock, thoughtography and deaden senses (the latter he cant control but constantly keeps him from getting caught). He is casual about his powers and a little cocky with his success.

B-13

I was inspired by watching videos like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MeiwLLZjDo&ob=av3e
I thought, 'If this was what an ordinary human Parkour practitioner could do, imagine what an augmented one could do!'
So I set about creating a superhuman master of Parkour. After experimenting with various archetypes and backgrounds, I settled on a Heroes Unlimited Experiment category and a RIFTs City Rat OCC. His background is as follows:

B-13, alias Sebastien Belle is the only son of the late Coalition Scientist, Sydney Belle. Dr Sydney Belle was an aspiring pioneer in a new form of human augmentation called 'Bionetics' which used nanomachines to implant microscopic fibers of various types into a human patient to increase their strength, durability, speed and reflexes. After 12 expendable human test subjects died in a hideous manner, the Coalition cancelled the project and mothballed the research, despite vehement protests from Dr Belle that he knew where the flaw was. and could fix it.

Two years later, his son Sebastien would be grievously injured and nearly killed when a SAMAS, involved in a high speed chase through the steel canyons of Chi-Town in an attempt to apprehend a rogue scholar lost control and crashed into the hapless 15 year old. His son's only chance of survival and living a semblance of a normal life was a full Bionic conversion. Horrified at the prospect, and convinced he knew the fatal flaw in Bionetics, Dr Belle stole the experimental nanomachines and applied them to his dying son. A week later, his son made a miraculous recovery and Dr Sydney Belle was imprisoned. He died in prison 6 months later.

The orphan Sebastien(his mother died years earlier) lost his family's prestige and position and wound up in the 'Downside' levels of Chi-town. Two major events were beginning to shape him, however. The first, was his growing frustration with the Coalition Government's policy of hoarding knowledge, keeping the public uneducated and rewriting history. The second was his developing new powers and abilities. Not only was he as strong, fast and durable as your average Crazy, but he had reflexes, balance and reaction time that made a Juicer pale by comparison! His mind could process this new stimulus so quickly he could literally fight and plan at the same time. Most bizarre of all, he could 'see' in 360 degrees after a fashion; knowing shapes, positions and relative motions of all objects around him.

When he was 17, dressed all in gray and masked, he broke into the home of one of his father's former co-workers and stole several hundred digital copies of pre-rifts novels, technical journals and other contraband texts. He sold them to a rogue scholar in the Burbs for a small fraction of what they were worth. So began B-13's new career as a data thief; stealing from the 'rich' in knowledge and giving it to the 'poor' for only enough money to keep his crusade operating. Now age 19, B-13 has risen onto the 10 Most Wanted Criminals in Chi-Town and has managed to keep his identity secret in both the Burbs and the City itself.