HOLOTAPE DATA arden's agglomeration

[arden]

a collection of clowns who could probably use a cup of hot chocolate and a good scrub

→ aramis finch / wastelander

 

[arden]

Name: Aramis Finch

Nicknames/Titles/Alias(es): Missy (by old raider "friends", will deck someone the moment he hears it)

Origin: Wastelander

Age: 26

Appearance: 5'9 with a lean build that allowed him to roam the wasteland as necessary. His hands are heavily scarred from melee fights, along with a small chunk of flesh missing from his abdomen about two inches in length. He doesn't grow facial hair too well (much to his chagrin) and tries to keep up with hygiene and maintenance. In other words, about once every three or four days he'll dip in a lake and take a dull razor to his face.

Faction: Used to run with a group of raiders somewhere in what used to be Myrtle Beach, he left after a planned raid went awry. The caravan was much better equipped than the group thought, and after the first wave got gunned down, the remaining three decided to run. After the meet-up to decide what to do now, he decided to call it quits and make his way down south. Sometimes he wonders if the other two are okay; they were the only few who decided not to rot their brains with excessive chem use (hell, one of them could read) but they were certainly the brains of the operation, not the brawn.

Character Audit: Aramis Finch had a pretty shitty life, and has a pretty shitty personality to match it. His parents were skags who died when he wasn't even double digits, he had to fight and steal instead of going to school like the other kids, he joined a raider gang that imploded on itself, yada yada yada. The past is pointless to think about when the next day is dependent on so much.
He's abrasive, shortsighted and cold. Not intentionally, but more along the lines of the people who raised him throughout his life weren't exactly moral paragons. Interactions with people boiled down to "is this guy going to kill me?" or "shit, this guy is going to kill me" and it's not exactly easy to be kind when a chemhead is charging with a lead pipe. Some redeeming qualities of his are that he refuses to touch chems - won't even sell them or pawn them off to someone - and he is rational. He's capable of joking around and hell, if he had a chance he could be downright chummy. Or try, at least. To a raider, telling someone that you'll "[expletive] their mother and [expletive][expletive][expletive]" means you'd be fast friends. Most people don't have the same worldview.
Aramis isn't smart per-se, but is a quick learner and generally knows how to read a situation. He can't read too well but can get by while sounding out the words under his breath. He's aware of his surroundings and realized New Miami might be his best bet. Last thing he heard about the Commonwealth was nothing he wanted to be a part of. So, he wanders, making just enough caps doing odd jobs and trading bits of scrap to make sure his belly is full and he can grab a Nuka-Cola every so often.


S.P.E.C.I.A.L

Strength: 8
Perception: 9
Endurance: 7
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 7
Luck: 2

Caps: 494

Inventory, including Weapons & Armor: He's a wanderer as of now, so supplies are limited. He owns a water flask, matches, a handful of bobby pins (4), a couple cans of Cram and a bag of radstag jerky, and a 14K gold band he stole off a dead body. He wears beaten-to-hell combat armor, and carries a spiked baseball bat and a holstered pipe pistol (24 .38 rounds).

Fighting Style: Being a much better swing than an aim, he prefers to get up close and personal to whatever molerat or chem fiend decides to bother him.

[art is by helena schulin]