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Maxwell McCullen
Name: Maxwell McCullen
Age: 143
Gender: Male
Race:Caucasian
Classification: Ghoul
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 213lbs
Build: Lean
Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Hired Gun
Alignment: Neutral / Chaotic Good
Personality: Stoic, annoyed, pessimistic, has a softer side when befriended.
Likes: Smoking, unique caps, traveling, tinkering, friendly faces, mole rats, and sunbathing.
Dislikes: Discrimination, evil intentions, slavery, children, dogs.
Strength - F:NV/FO3 [6] - FO4 [5]
Perception - F:NV/FO3 [2] - FO4 [1]
Endurance - F:NV/ FO3 [6] - FO4 [3]
Charisma - F:NV/FO3 [10] - FO4 [8]
Intelligence - F:NV/FO3 [10] - FO4 [8]
Agility - F:NV/FO3 [5] - FO4 [2]
Luck- F:NV/FO3 [1] - FO4 [1]
Favorite chem: "Jet makes you feel fast and free, but I think I prefer a nice grape mentat. Something sweet that can clear my mind when the fog tries to take me."
Favorite drink: "Long as it doesn't come out of a slimy puddle I think I'll drink just about anything."
Favorite Food: "Deathclaw steaks. A little salt and a little garlic, maybe some dusted up blood flower to add a tang to it."
Least Favorite chem: "Psycho isn't bad, but just uh.. keep that needle away from me."
Least Favorite drink: "Vodka. What the hell were they thinking. It tastes like paint thinner... What are you talking about? Of course I can taste things.. No I won't tell you how I know what paint thinner tastes like."
Least Favorite food: "Salisbury steak. That crusty old crap they call meat is disgusting."
Backstory: Maxwell was not always a drifter, he had been born in Philadelphia to a somewhat well off family. A loving mother, a hard working father, and a sheep dog named Chip. He was a straight A student and graduated top of his class, while this earned him a scholarship to the college of his choice, he also signed up for the military to help pay for any other schooling he might seek in the future. After pondering his choices, Maxwell became a homicide detective and took interest in toiling through endless mountains of paperwork, multiple crime scenes, and poking about victims corpses to really get into the mangled backstory of individuals.
He had been in the business for around a decade until one incident led to him being on the business end of a scorned lovers service rifle, he had been fast enough to peel backwards in time to save his cranium from becoming a casualty, but too late to save his nose and a chunk of his right cheek. While all was well overall it had shaken Maxwell and while he was soon on the road to recovery, the turmoils of war were about to take everything that he knew and render it down into radiated ash in the wind.
When the bombs dropped he had been with his parents, sheltering in their basement with the rest of his family, his mother and father as well as a few of his cousins. They hadn't any time to gather any form of rations to wait out the destructions of war and while their little shelter had some cans of preservatives, there wasn't enough to keep the lot of them cared for, it only lasted them about a week before they were scraped clean of anything to keep their stomachs from growling.
Maxwell, being the most physically fit of the group, volunteered to head up into the house, or at least what remained of it, and see if he could gather together supplies to keep them for a few more weeks. Upon exiting the shelter he was met with devastation, the walls of the home were reduced to a skeletal frame and the neighborhood beyond in no better condition. That wasn't even to mention the burning rash that started to form across his arms and neck after just being out and about for a matter of minutes, his skin irritated by the irradiated dust that sifted through the destruction and was kicked up every time he pushed aside rubble and debris to seek out food. Though he found only a few surviving cans of corn and a tin box of cookies to take back down, and by the time he did settle back into the shelter his skin had began to blister and burn.
Though this went on for weeks, Maxwell exploring the devastated cul-de-sac to try and keep his family going, but the radiation penetrated their cramped comforts before too long and it was no longer just Maxwell who was becoming sick. Though by this point he was loosing clumps of his hair, his nails had begun to peel back from his fingers, and the skin that had once been a blistering rash had started to flake off and become raw and weeping. The others took mild dosages of the radiated hell that seeped through the walls, but almost on a daily now he was being battered by the harmful gama and each time he would come back he would be more and more changed by the outcome.
In four months time Maxwell's mother had succumb to the radiation poisoning she had been enduring, and not long after was his father. They were elderly and their bodies could do little to fight back the radiation that sickened them, though his cousins were young and soon started to take on a similar change to him. Their hair began to fall out and they began to develop painful rashes across their skin, though another side effect to the radiation started to come over them. His cousins became agitated and irate, sometimes even becoming confused and forgetting where they were or who each other were.
Within seven months the food in the area had been picked dry and Maxwell's younger cousins had become completely beyond helping, mauling one another and lashing out when he cane too close to them. They had bitten one another and left oozing wounds, though they hardly seemed to acknowledge the damage delt to them. It wasn't long after that Maxwell was forced to leave them loose and on their own, unable to do anything but watch them loose their minds.. and with no home to come back to.. he left.
Age: 143
Gender: Male
Race:Caucasian
Classification: Ghoul
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 213lbs
Build: Lean
Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Hired Gun
Alignment: Neutral / Chaotic Good
Personality: Stoic, annoyed, pessimistic, has a softer side when befriended.
Likes: Smoking, unique caps, traveling, tinkering, friendly faces, mole rats, and sunbathing.
Dislikes: Discrimination, evil intentions, slavery, children, dogs.
Strength - F:NV/FO3 [6] - FO4 [5]
Perception - F:NV/FO3 [2] - FO4 [1]
Endurance - F:NV/ FO3 [6] - FO4 [3]
Charisma - F:NV/FO3 [10] - FO4 [8]
Intelligence - F:NV/FO3 [10] - FO4 [8]
Agility - F:NV/FO3 [5] - FO4 [2]
Luck- F:NV/FO3 [1] - FO4 [1]
Favorite chem: "Jet makes you feel fast and free, but I think I prefer a nice grape mentat. Something sweet that can clear my mind when the fog tries to take me."
Favorite drink: "Long as it doesn't come out of a slimy puddle I think I'll drink just about anything."
Favorite Food: "Deathclaw steaks. A little salt and a little garlic, maybe some dusted up blood flower to add a tang to it."
Least Favorite chem: "Psycho isn't bad, but just uh.. keep that needle away from me."
Least Favorite drink: "Vodka. What the hell were they thinking. It tastes like paint thinner... What are you talking about? Of course I can taste things.. No I won't tell you how I know what paint thinner tastes like."
Least Favorite food: "Salisbury steak. That crusty old crap they call meat is disgusting."
Backstory: Maxwell was not always a drifter, he had been born in Philadelphia to a somewhat well off family. A loving mother, a hard working father, and a sheep dog named Chip. He was a straight A student and graduated top of his class, while this earned him a scholarship to the college of his choice, he also signed up for the military to help pay for any other schooling he might seek in the future. After pondering his choices, Maxwell became a homicide detective and took interest in toiling through endless mountains of paperwork, multiple crime scenes, and poking about victims corpses to really get into the mangled backstory of individuals.
He had been in the business for around a decade until one incident led to him being on the business end of a scorned lovers service rifle, he had been fast enough to peel backwards in time to save his cranium from becoming a casualty, but too late to save his nose and a chunk of his right cheek. While all was well overall it had shaken Maxwell and while he was soon on the road to recovery, the turmoils of war were about to take everything that he knew and render it down into radiated ash in the wind.
When the bombs dropped he had been with his parents, sheltering in their basement with the rest of his family, his mother and father as well as a few of his cousins. They hadn't any time to gather any form of rations to wait out the destructions of war and while their little shelter had some cans of preservatives, there wasn't enough to keep the lot of them cared for, it only lasted them about a week before they were scraped clean of anything to keep their stomachs from growling.
Maxwell, being the most physically fit of the group, volunteered to head up into the house, or at least what remained of it, and see if he could gather together supplies to keep them for a few more weeks. Upon exiting the shelter he was met with devastation, the walls of the home were reduced to a skeletal frame and the neighborhood beyond in no better condition. That wasn't even to mention the burning rash that started to form across his arms and neck after just being out and about for a matter of minutes, his skin irritated by the irradiated dust that sifted through the destruction and was kicked up every time he pushed aside rubble and debris to seek out food. Though he found only a few surviving cans of corn and a tin box of cookies to take back down, and by the time he did settle back into the shelter his skin had began to blister and burn.
Though this went on for weeks, Maxwell exploring the devastated cul-de-sac to try and keep his family going, but the radiation penetrated their cramped comforts before too long and it was no longer just Maxwell who was becoming sick. Though by this point he was loosing clumps of his hair, his nails had begun to peel back from his fingers, and the skin that had once been a blistering rash had started to flake off and become raw and weeping. The others took mild dosages of the radiated hell that seeped through the walls, but almost on a daily now he was being battered by the harmful gama and each time he would come back he would be more and more changed by the outcome.
In four months time Maxwell's mother had succumb to the radiation poisoning she had been enduring, and not long after was his father. They were elderly and their bodies could do little to fight back the radiation that sickened them, though his cousins were young and soon started to take on a similar change to him. Their hair began to fall out and they began to develop painful rashes across their skin, though another side effect to the radiation started to come over them. His cousins became agitated and irate, sometimes even becoming confused and forgetting where they were or who each other were.
Within seven months the food in the area had been picked dry and Maxwell's younger cousins had become completely beyond helping, mauling one another and lashing out when he cane too close to them. They had bitten one another and left oozing wounds, though they hardly seemed to acknowledge the damage delt to them. It wasn't long after that Maxwell was forced to leave them loose and on their own, unable to do anything but watch them loose their minds.. and with no home to come back to.. he left.
2 | May 2nd 2024 18:09