Pinnedwing's junker terminal

pinnedwing

lost in moorlands
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Look for groups
  2. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per week
Online Availability
Sorry, it's difficult for me to predict! It's why I prefer play-by-post!
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Genres
Weird fiction, xenofiction, horror, romance, melodrama.
Name:

Algernon 'Algie' Penton

Nicknames/Titles/Alias(es):

Algie, Algy, Nonny, YOU, (expletive) amongst raiders.

Origin:

Human (Slag)

Age:

23, prob'ly? (Doesn't know exact date of birth.)

Appearance:

Pale even for an undergrounder, Algie is possessed of eyes that are almost pink or red, rather then brown, and pale - somewhat fluffy - white-blonde hair.
This had no special significance for his kinfolk growing to maturity, but often stands out to those surfacers who meet him.
Lean and lanky, he naturally curls into an s-like shape of bad posture and diffidence when not interacting with those he's comfortable with.
He keeps his hair trim and clean-cut, shaves readily, and usually wears a green mechanic's jumpsuit with a hood and mask, to protect against the natural light.
Due to his constant squint, many assume him to have a suspicious bent, when really he's just in a bit of pain. His nose is sharp and slightly bent, and his teeth are more then a little jagged.

Faction:

At the moment, he's 'loyal' to the Kings of Trashtown, a no-name raider group of ten who took him prisoner while raiding his kinfolk.
The z-list bandits are trying to punch above their weight by using a title that makes it sound like they're from Trashbelt; but are liable to be dispersed by a single fight with anyone armed. The moment they do, their 'mechanic' will almost certainly make a run for it, or possibly join up with anyone who liberated him, and needs a monkeywrech around.

Character Audit:

Algie was a member of a band who considered saltwater caves and the great aquifers within their turf.
Xenophobic, isolationist, and in all ways distrustful of 'outsiders,' it was pretty miserable for a young boy who wondered what other caves were out there.
The rare traders and bounties from inter-wastelander raids left books, and Algie forced himself to read, learning enough to take an understudy repairing the Great Salt Murderer, a device which allegedly turned salt-poisoned water into drinkable water... Though nobody quite understood the difference.

Fond of peaceful days, machines, and peaceful days with machines, Algie probably would've put up with the life if he hadn't been taken as a war trophy by a raider group. Forced to maintain their faulty Protectron (impossible, with half of the inner workings ripped out) and their air-conditioning unit (surprisingly possible, for the wasteland is sometimes weird), his dreams are to escape and maybe find a place where he can rest in the dark, talk to interesting folk, and fix their machines. Preferably for pay. Yeup. Pay'd be nice.

(Hits; Artificial lighting, cool temperatures, books, machines, fresh oranges.)
(Misses; Natural lighting/floodlights, dry temperatures, rude people, like - hey, chill out, violence.)

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

Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 3
Luck: 1

Caps: Algie will be rolling those sweet, sweet dice; but because he is currently a random quest NPC, alas, he has none of that sweet sweet/non-existant cap stash to his name. Rather, those investigating will be able to collect some/part in full of the caps that the raiders did not spend. (GM discretion! Also, naturally, to veto this idea if they like, bahaha.) Very nice people might even give him some of them back.

The Great Random Number has spoken; in tiny little piles there are roughly 370 caps in the raider camp Algie is held in. You have to interact separately with at least ten to pick them up.

Inventory, including Weapons & Armor:

Tools and toolbelt, a few jumpsuits that he takes care to mend, unlike the raiders present (geeze, is every surfacer so... Unhygenic?), a well-thumbed copy of one issue each of RobCo Fun and Hot Rodder - Commemorative Floridian edition.

Fighting Style:

Once, he hit a radroach with a pipewrench. Yeeugh. That was - not great.
Please donate to let him get one (1) laser weapon. He would appreciate it. (He just'll keep his mask on while in combat, thanks kindly.)

Companion:

1d10 raiders who are keenly aware of that 1 luck stat. He'd be okay with them leaving him alone, oh, he's totally got some caps stashed around -
Oh, you, you found 'em already, you - were gonna keep 'em, that's cool, aha, no, no problem...

Miscellaneous:

Just a nice swamp-cave dwelling boy who wants to eat orange (mutant) and work on cars, robots, and your weapons if you need a tuneup.
The 'great salt murderer' is probably some kind of desalination device, but it doesn't really matter.
I just wanted it to feel like the kind of quest you'd run into, and maybe consider skipping this run.
 
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