The Reckning of Lesser Men: Character Storage

Post your sheets and whatnot here, please-the full, statted/perked versions.

As important NPCs are killed and their dog tags acquired (if they're operating under an alias), their dossiers will be added here as well.

Name: Staff Sergeant Samuel Harvard (Sam)
Age: 31
Sex: M

Appearance: Sam is a skinny man, extremely well-built with defined muscles and six-pack abs. His skin is tanned caucasian; he obviously spends a lot of time outdoors. He can be described as handsome or attractive by women, with that military-esque look to him. Sam is 6’0”, and weighs a little under 180 lbs. He has light brown hair that he always wears buzzed, and is always clean-shaven in a very military way. He is a man who looks like a soldier. He has a rounded jawline and a wide mouth, with well-kept teeth. His eyes are a light blue, described by many as cyan. Sam’s nose is small and rounded, and his ears are a little larger than average. Sam has a few different tattoos on his body that he’s accumulated over the years. On his left shoulder is a tattoo of the SEAL insignia (the eagle with the trident), and on the right side of his chest is a tattoo of a skeletal frog holding a trident (a symbol of the navy SEALs). On Sam’s right forearm is a tattoo of a fallen soldier memorial (the gun with the helmet). The top of the tattoo (above the helmet) says “All gave some” and at the bottom (under the gun barrel), it says “Some gave all”.

Attire: When in combat, Sam wears a set of fatigues (the camo color depends on his environment. If Sam is on a recon or black ops mission, he usually wears all black), under which is a kevlar vest. On his head, he wears a MICH helmet (a helmet with built-in comms device) and a pair of polarized black sunglasses. When he feels like it (or if he’s doing recon/black ops) Sam wears a black balaclava with a skull design on it. Like any sensible infantry soldier, Sam wears a plate carrier chest rig that contains pistol magazines, grenades, a flare gun, and a Slim Jim (he calls it his “victory snack”). He wears combat boots on his feet and SAP gloves on his hands. Sam wears a thick belt, which holds box rounds for his light machinegun. He wears a set of dog tags and a crucifix on the same chain. When off-duty, Sam’s attire normally consists of long camo pants, a tee shirt of some sort (if he’s exercising or working out, this tee shirt will be plain brown), and boots. Occasionally, he’ll wear a baseball cap with the Navy SEAL logo on it in gold.

Personality: Sam is a prideful man. He has worked extremely hard to achieve what he has in life, and he doesn’t mind telling you about it. He talks a lot about his training and missions, and a lot of the times even Dreadnaughts are impressed. He is very self-disciplined, able to stick to a strict schedule, and watches what he eats to maintain his body (protein and complex carbohydrates ftw). Sam is extremely stubborn as well, making him hard to negotiate with but also making him extremely persistent and resilient (few get through SEAL training without resilience). Sam has a flare for revenge, and this combined with his stubbornness makes him a dangerous person to piss off. Sam’s greatest weakness is his lack of intellect. He is dumb, quite frankly. He wasn’t very smart to begin with, and he never went to college, so his intelligence lags far behind that of most other soldiers. He is extremely self-conscious about his intelligence, and can get extremely angry if someone calls him stupid or dumb (he busted a marine’s head open once because the guy called him an idiot). He often hides his intelligence by pretending that he knows more than he actually does. Despite his lack of intellect, Sam is a good leader, with plenty of street smarts (hence his wisdom) and enough charisma to make people believe he knows what he’s doing. He likes being in a position of authority, but understands that not everyone can be a leader, and so respects other authority.

Nationality: American
Hobbies: Fishing, playing cards, playing with Sarge, working out, shooting things, hunting, camping. Most of Sam’s favorite activities happen outdoors.
Talents: Sam is good at climbing, camping, self-defense,
Weapons of Choice: Sam’s primary weapon is the Ares Shrike EXP-2 light machine gun. It is fed with box magazines and has a tactical rail on the bottom, which Sam carries two attachments for, either a bayonet or a flashlight. Sam’s sidearm is his old Sig Sauer P226 Navy semi-automatic handgun. It has the Navy SEAL insignia engraved into the top of the grip in gold. He also usually carries the regular soldier stuff; two flashbangs, two frag grenades, a flare gun, and a combat knife.

Role: Machine gunner/ infantry. Specializes in urban warfare and suppressing fire.

Bio: Sam has wanted to be a Navy SEAL since he was a boy. He was born in Fresno, California to a fighting family with very little income. By the time he was 4, his family split up. He went with his father, a wounded warrior who had his leg blown off by a missile in Vietnam, while his twin sister went with his mother. Sam’s dad had never gone to college, and because of this was cursed with joblessness when he got back from the war in 1974. He was hard-pressed to find work anywhere in town, and so money was always tight. Twice in his childhood, Sam found himself on the streets with his dad, evicted. Sam struggled immensely in school (like father like son, they say), but never had problems in any other teenaged category. He loved working out and, due to his musculature, there was never a shortage of girls around (for most of his life, as a matter of fact). He played as a linebacker on his high school football team, and was a first-team All-American in his senior year. He got a full athletic scholarship to USC, though he had no interest in college at all. He wanted to be a SEAL. And why, you ask? Well Sam had once gone to a football camp in Coronado, California that was hosted by the SEALs. Their workouts challenged his body more than any workout he had ever done, and he began to gain an incredible amount of respect for them. He sat around afterwards, listening to the old BUD/S stories, tales about storming Grenada and making ships disappear off the coast of Vietnam. He even met one SEAL who was a Medal of Honor recipient. He was inspired to become like these men and show the world that, despite his upbringing, he was good enough. But tales aside, Sam failed out of school sophomore year (not intentionally, mind you). He spent so much time partying and working out that he didn’t pay attention to his grades, and so he found himself alone and penniless. His father was disgraced, and turned to alcohol to comfort himself. So, Sam went and enlisted in the marines. His awful grades made this tough, but somehow he got in. He served a combat tour in Iraq where he fought on the front lines in the Second Battle of Fallujah. He returned from war ready to become a SEAL. He went into SEAL training and, despite its rigorousness, passed. He joined SEAL Team 3, and went to Afghanistan. He hunted the Taliban for years (he met Sam during this), and showed his stripes on the battlefield as a good morale-increasing leader and combat specialist. Upon his return, he was moved to SEAL Team Six, the elite super-secret counter-terrorist unit that everyone’s heard of (he met Sarge at this point). He fought in Afghanistan once more, and participated in Operation Neptune Spear, the raid on Osama Bin Laden’s compound. He returned victorious, but he would soon lose more than he realized.

One mission in particular, Sam did not go on. The week before he had torn a ligament in his knee while training, and so was in the medical ward. As the helicopter was landing with the rest of his unit, a Taliban RPG hit it, causing the copter to crash. There were no survivors. Sam saw it happen from the window of the medical ward, and ran out towards the crash. There was nothing he (or Sarge) could do. Basically, Sam lost all of his friends in one shot. He was sent back home, the lone survivor of his team, as he had fallen into depression. He almost killed himself twice, and once only survived because somebody walked into his room while he was about to pull the trigger of his Sig Sauer and talked him out of it. He went to rehab, and returned a healed man with a vengeance on his mind. Sam could have rejoined SEAL Team Six to whoop some Al Qaeda ass after what they did to him, but that was too nice. The SEALs had to go by the laws of the UN, US, and Geneva Convention. The Dreadnaughts did not. Sam joined them, hoping one day to return to Afghanistan and brutally murder the bastard that killed his friends.

Other:

Attributes:
21 points to divvy up however you like here

Strength: 4  
Dexterity: 2
Constitution: 5
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 1
Wisdom: 3

Skills:

Skills:

Perks:

Name: Sarge (his official designation is K009)
Age: 6 (roughly mid-thirties in dog years)
Sex: Male
Appearance: Sarge is a Belgian Malinois, a breed of dog that looks almost identical to a German Shepherd but is smaller and more compact. He is about two feet tall at the shoulder. He weighs around 65 pounds. Sarge’s coat is entirely black, with a patch of dark brown under his , and he has a black nose. Sarge’s eyes are a mahogany brown, bordering on a very dark red, giving him quite a demonic appearance when he is about to tear out your throat and make a snack of your facial tissue. Something one would realize about Sarge when he is about to tear out said throat is that his canine teeth (the two really sharp ones in the front) are made of metal (a super-strong titanium alloy, to be exact). Besides that, Sarge pretty much looks like a regular dog.

Attire: Sarge wears a military dog vest when in combat . If you are too lazy to click that link, basically this vest is made of kevlar (to keep Sarge’s lovely body from being turned to swiss cheese), has a handling strap (for peeps to hold), a camera with night vision (so that a handler can watch from far away [this is only used when Sarge is sent in alone]), an earpiece so his handler can speak to him (he also hears the comms), drainage holes (to keep him dry if he gets in water), and a load-bearing v-ring that Sarge can use for fast-roping and parachuting with his handler (it can also be attached to a leash). This dog could possibly wear better armor than some soldiers.

Personality: Sarge is normally a mild-mannered dog. He isn’t overly-aggressive like many war dogs, but there’s just something about that word “attack” that sets him on edge. When that word escapes Sam’s lips, Sarge becomes a completely different animal. He is bloodthirsty and vicious, showing no mercy and adhering to every order. Sarge never disobeys an order, and never has once ever. He doesn’t know why and he doesn’t know what would happen if he did, but he doesn’t care. Orders are orders. This strict discipline is what makes Sarge so good at his job. Sarge is fiercely loyal to those who he respects (people on the team who aren’t assholes towards him) and would gladly take a bullet for any of them. Respect is very important for Sarge. If you respect him, then he will respect you. If you disrespect him, then you know who pissed on your bed and tore up your slippers.

Nationality: Straight ‘Murican in this dawg
Hobbies: Fetch, chewing things, eating bones, shitting in the woods- what do you expect? He’s a dog.
Talents: Sniffing butts, pissing on fire hydrants, and kicking ass.
Weapons of Choice: His titanium teeth, claws, and superior senses of hearing and smell.
Role: Attack dog/bomb dog. He can do both.
Bio: Sarge was born on a military-owned puppy farm in Pennsylvania. Almost from birth, he began to be trained. Sarge spent the first two years of his life learning how to obey owners and attack enemies. His senses of hearing and smell became world-class, and he gained a strict self-discipline and adherence to regulations. One day, other soldiers came to the farm and took Sarge to Coronado, CA, the SEAL headquarters. Here, he went through much tougher training, where he jumped from helicopters with soldiers, rappelled down buildings, and met his best friend; Sam. Sarge was assigned to be Sam’s dog, and the two became the best of friends. On SEAL Team 3, Sarge hunted the Taliban in their network of tunnels. Soon, both he and Sam were moved to SEAL team 6, the highly-classified highly-specialized antiterror unit of the US military. He conducted numerous raids on Al Qaeda (yes, I stole that from the Navy SEAL copypasta) until Sam left the team to join the Dreadnaughts. It is not standard protocol for a SEAL dog to accompany its handler if they are discharged, but Sam was good friends with some important people, and so when he left, Sarge was assigned to him as a “therapy dog”.
Other: (Anything else of importance)

Attributes:
21 points to divvy up however you like here
Strength: 6 (titanium canines FTW)
Dexterity: 4
Constitution: 5
Charisma: 1 (dog’s don’t really need charisma)
Intelligence: 2
Wisdom: 1 (dogs also don't need wisdom, since instinct doesn't count here)

Skills:

Skills:

Perks:

Name: Colonel Ivan Petrov
Age: 38
Sex: Male

Appearance: Ivan is a small, gruff-looking man, standing at about 5’9” and weighing 170 lbs. He is well-built and in-shape, with wiry muscles and tanned skin. Ivan certainly will not be winning any beauty pageants anytime soon. Most of his body is covered in an enormous burn scar from a freak accident a few years before he joined the Dreadnaughts. His lower torso, most of his abdomen, a small spot on the right side of his face and his right arm down to halfway down the forearm are covered in these ugly scars. Ivan is missing the pinky finger on his right hand and his middle finger on his left. Ivan’s face is long and rectangular, with a square jaw blanketed in a thick, full beard. This beard is primarily a very dark brown (almost black) though is slowly beginning to be taken over by grey. His hair is long and is worn combed back against his head in a neat, professional way. Ivan’s eyes are a bright green in coloration, and seem to sparkle with intelligence. He has thick eyebrows that make him look rather angry most of the time. His eyebrows are asymmetrical, as the burn scar overlaps part of his right eyebrow. Ivan’s ears are rather large, and lay flat against his head. He is missing a chunk from the lobe of the right ear. His nose is large with a wide bridge and a bump on it that makes it appear as if his nose has been broken multiple times before. Ivan’s teeth are relatively well-cared-for, though several of them are fake. He speaks with a deep Russian accent, and generally talks very loudly (as his hearing isn’t the best).

Attire: Ivan’s uniform depends on the mission. When on a normal mission, Ivan wears a pair of fatigues (the color depends on the environment he’s in) with a matching tactical chest mount. On his feet is a pair of steel-toed combat boots. He wears a maroon beret on his head, a symbol of honor in Russian Internal Military special forces squads. Around his waist is usually a belt with several pouches on it. He wears a pair of black polarized aviator-style sunglasses. When Ivan is going on a mission that he knows will require the defusing of highly-explosive ordinance (like he’s going intentionally for the EOD aspect), he wears a heavy bomb suit, which cuts down on his mobility but renders him very well-protected against bullets and explosives. When not fighting, Ivan dresses well, usually wearing a pair of plain-colored slacks (usually tan), a polo shirt, and a black peacoat. His trademark piece of clothing is his orange Ray Ban polarized aviator sunglasses (he wears black ones when fighting).

Personality: Ivan is a simple man with a taste for action. He joined the military originally so that he could be in the heart of the battlefield, kicking ass and taking names, as the saying goes. He joined the Dreadnaughts, however, because after his medical discharge, the Russian Military would not give him a job (as he couldn’t pass the hearing test). Ivan generally keeps to himself most of the time, though his loud voice often gives people the impression that he is a loud person (which is untrue). He drinks a lot (though not while on the job), and is known to be very boisterous when he’s drunk. The drinking is what he uses to take care of his...issues. Ivan has PTSD, which he received from his incident (he doesn’t talk about it). While it has yet to affect his work, it often causes Ivan to have trouble sleeping. Even when he daydreams, Ivan can occasionally see flashbacks. Because of this, Ivan tries to keep himself constantly doing something. He has very little idle time, as he figures that if he’s always busy, then he’ll never daydream and therefore will never suffer. he sees a psychologist about it once a week or so, and takes medicine for it most of the time. If Ivan is out of medicine or is regressing for some reason, expect to see him at a bar. He’s rather antisocial and can be cold around new people. It takes a while to get Ivan to open up to someone new.
Despite his debilitating psychological issues and lack of social skills, Ivan is a genius. He has a master’s degree in nuclear chemistry from MIT and a bachelor’s in physics. Basically, Ivan is a brain. He can crunch astronomically large numbers in his head, and can do crazy sh*t with chemicals (he once won five hundred dollars in a bet by making a military-grade explosive out of the supplies found in a Shell gas station).

Nationality: Russian

Hobbies: Drinking, smoking cigars, making bombs out of everyday objects, and most importantly, reading. Ivan constantly reads, and has a large library in his room at the Dreadnaught HQ. He believes that reading is the key to intelligence. He has books in both Russian and English, and will sometimes switch a Russian and English copy of a book in the middle of a chapter to challenge his mind. His favorite author is Tom Clancy. Ivan has tried to write some himself, but he “has never been very good at it”.

Talents: Ivan is super-intelligent, with an IQ of 175 and his various credentials that I listed above. He could give the Rain Man a run for his money in math, and has a fairly good memory. He is adept in hand-to-hand combat (evident by the Maroon beret test he did, in which he had to survive a fight against a SPETSNAZ soldier). He is a good ground warfare tactician as well, though his lack of social skills usually hold him back from being a leader. Ivan once knew how to play violin, but he hasn’t done so in a while, and so has forgotten most of it. He speaks English and Russian fluently. He has picked up a few phrases in Chechen, such as “I’ll cover you!”, “I’m throwing a grenade!”, and (his favorite) “f*ck you, Russia!”.

Weapons of Choice: Once again, depends on the mission. His usual rifle is an AK 104 carbine with a M203 Grenade launcher under-barrel attachment and holographic sight. He always carries a Makarov PM for a sidearm. On his belt is a set of tools in case he comes across a bomb that needs defusing. Ivan usually brings some sort of explosive device with him as well, often linear det. cord breaching charges (as they’re lightweight and get the job done). On occasion, he will also carry plastic explosives, shaped charges, or claymores. As is probably standard with most Dreadnaughts, he also carries a combat knife.

During Act I, for example, Ivan is carrying an AK 104 carbine (with the launcher and sight), the Makarov, two flashbangs, two claymores, and a small reel of detonation cord at his hip (with a few plastic explosive charges on his belt for the det cord).

Role: A hybrid EOD/infantryman. When you see EOD, don’t think “the bomb guy”. Ivan is like a Designated Explosives Specialist. When in combat, he fights with the infantry, but if they either need to blow something up or are confronted by a bomb which needs to be defused, Ivan’s the guy who does it.

Bio: Ivan Petrov was born in Lutsk (now a part of Ukraine) at the tail end of the 1970s, the second of three brothers. He grew up in a military family with a father who was in Afghanistan, fighting for Mother Russia against the Mujahideen. Ivan’s father was his hero. Every week, Ivan would wait by the door for the postman to arrive and bring him a letter from the battlefront in his father’s neat penmanship. Then One week, a letter didn’t come. Ivan’s father was in a helicopter, flying through the Khyber Pass, and he was shot down. They didn’t recover enough of his body for a funeral, but that didn’t matter, as funerals were illegal in the Soviet Union. Ivan was ten at the time, and he was devastated. Ivan’s older brother left two weeks later to join the military and avenge his father’s death. The family moved to Rostov shortly after, as his mother’s family was there. When Ivan was fifteen, the Soviet Union collapsed, marking an end to the Cold War. When Ivan was seventeen, he joined the army, where he fought in the First Chechen War. His abnormally high intellect (despite the lack of a college education) made him stand out to his superiors, and he rose through the ranks quickly. After the First Chechen War ended, Ivan went to college at the MV Frunze Military Academy in Moscow, where he learned his EOD skills. They were put to the test in September of 1999, as the Second Chechen War began. Dagestani terrorists began to blow up apartments around Western Russia. Ivan was sent after a confirmed second bomb in Moscow, and, with the help of his team, diffused it, saving the building. Ivan was moved to a unit of anti-terrorist special forces in the Russian Internal Military, where he served as an EOD specialist (though he got plenty of combat in). For five years he chased terrorists around Russia. He was part of the unit that gassed Moscow Theater in 2002, and in 2004 fought against Chechen rebels who had taken 1,100 people hostage (including 777 children). In 2004, he was deployed to Chechnya as part of the Russian anti-terrorist operation (Chechnya was and is part of Russia, so the Internal Military fought there). He fought there (stationed is Grozny, but he did most of the fighting in the Southern Mountains) for two years. Through multiple firefights and guerilla warfare attacks, Ivan gained experience in battle and became a grizzled veteran. He was then redeployed to Volgograd. That’s when his “accident” happened.

A hospital in Volgograd was seized by Chechen insurgents, who threatened to kill someone every fifteen minutes until Chechnya’s independence was recognized by Russia and the Russians pulled out. Their backup plan (incase the Russians came anyways) was a bomb in the center of the building’s basement, that, if detonated, would topple the entire hospital. Wearing full bomb suits, Ivan’s unit was sent to deal with it. A firefight was initiated once they got inside to where the bomb was, and in the chaos of it all, the man defusing the bomb (Ivan was outside of the room trying to fend off the insurgents) was stabbed to death. His attacked triggered the bomb, and everything went black. Two days later, Ivan was pulled from the wreckage, his suit torn to ribbons and his body severely burned. Third and fourth-degree burns covered most of the right half of his body, and the collapse had crushed several of his bones (he had a minor skull fracture, four shattered ribs, two broken tibias, a shattered right radius, two missing fingers, a fractured hip, grizzly stuff). He was the sole survivor of the explosion (everyone else in his unit died). he spent a year in a hospital in Moscow, recovering from the explosion and rehabilitating. He recovered at an alarming rate and a year and a month after the explosion almost killed him, he was back on his feet (with a cane and medicated bandages still wrapped around much of his torso). Unfortunately, due to hearing loss from the blast, he was unable to pass the Russian Army’s hearing test, and so was discharged. At this point, Ivan felt worthless. He was given a desk job at the Kremlin, but that gave him no solace. In 2008, Ivan left the job and went to America, where he used his savings (as well as some assistance from a wealthy uncle) to attend MIT. His high intelligence and knowledge of chemistry was obvious, as he graduated with a professional degree in nuclear chemistry in four years. He would have been qualified to be an EOD officer in the US police force, but they wouldn’t hire a foreigner. That was when he heard about the Dreadnaughts from a friend he had gone to school with at Frunze. He joined (as he couldn’t get any sort of job, even with a US citizenship) and has ever since been with the Dreadnaughts, fighting the good fight against terrorists and insurgents all over the world.

Attributes:
19 points to divvy up however you like here

Strength: 2
Dexterity: 4
Constitution: 3
Charisma: 1
Intelligence: 6
Wisdom: 3

Skills:

Perks:

Name: Molly Vice
Age: 23
Sex: Lady

Appearance: Molly weighs in at 135 pounds, most of which is lean muscle, and is considered on the short end for women, at 5'2. She has a bust-to-waist ratio she can't complain about, one that compliments her height and weight well. Her complexion could be described as rather light, and extremely freckled. She has freckles all along her cheekbones, nose, shoulders, back, arms, legs, everywhere. Her hair is rather short, just barely long enough to be pulled into a tiny pony-tail when she is working, and a light auburn color. Molly's forehead is entirely covered by thick bangs, for whatever reason she doesn't like people seeing her forehead. She has a scar through her left eyebrow, so the hair won't grow there. Her hair normally appears straight and tousled, but under stress it will start to curl (most likely from her anxiously twisting it). Her eyes are dark green, not uncommon of those with red hair. The rest of her facial features, her lips, nose and ears, appear rather thin.

Attire: Molly's uniform is extremely basic, being what you would imagine a mechanic would wear. Thick, navy blue, overalls with reenforced knees and even extra pockets to lose things in. Underneath the overalls she wears any sort of shirt she can get her hands on, always rolling the sleeve up past her elbows. Pushed up onto her forehead are a pair of magnifying goggles, however outside the workplace she wears contact lenses instead. Around her waist she sometimes wears a tool belt, with various tools and supplies hanging from it. While at work she always wears steel toe boots, recalling the last time she dropped something heavy on her foot and broke most of her toes. During work she refrains from wearing anything nice, as it will get dirty, or any jewelry. Outside of work she will wear whatever is loose and comfortable, normally Capri pants and tee-shirts with some sort of pattern or graphic design. And a jacket. Its always the same, brown, cloth jacket.

Personality: Molly is one of those people with a complete "can do" attitude. She tries her hardest in everything she does, as a way to redeem herself or some sad back story sh*t like that, and tries her hardest to keep her teammates positive too. This positivity can come off as clingy annoyance to people who don't like constant interaction. She can also come off as childish or innocent, but she is far from this. Molly has a rather complex past, one she doesn't often share with others, that shapes her into a rather complex person. She could be considered spiritual, but not necessary religious. She tries not to bring up religion in the work place. Molly has a few, crippling, fears. This includes doctors and almost anything that has to do with medicine, as well as being in extremely stressful situations. Under stress Molly will either, yell and angry get though it or lock up and be unable to continue. Despite this Molly is an extremely hard worker and loves her work. So much so that she would rather sleep in her mechanic garage then her room. She often has trouble sleeping if she is not surrounded by her work, and no one likes a sleep deprived mechanic on her third cup of coffee.

Nationality: Of Irish descent, lives in the Canada land.

Hobbies: Molly has several hobbies, most of which require moving around. Things like building model rockets and boats to disassembling and reassembling anything with mechanics. She loves to test herself to see how quickly she can take apart an engine and put it back together. She does have several hobbies not related to her job, these are a lot more low key. She likes going on bike rides and hikes to find a quiet spot to read or reflect even doing things as relaxing as tending a garden, but she never does these things while on active duty. She finds herself too stretched to have the patience to read.

Talents: An extensive knowledge of all sorts of machinery could be considered a talent. Molly also prides herself in having an extremely steady hand. When she was in college she would challenge herself to see how many quarters she could stack on the back of her hand. She also has extremely good balance. She can stack almost anything on her head and keep it up there. She was also forced to learn to play the piano as a child, and still can remember how to play. She doesn’t own a piano anymore but she will sometimes tap on her desk with her fingertips.

Weapons of Choice: Despite working for one of the most elite, and arguably, dangerous military branches, Molly does not like to carry a weapon on her. She isn't a huge fan of shooting guns, and would much rather carry a knife or blunt weapon with her. If she is going into a situation in which she knows she will need a gun, she will take whatever is necessary to get the job done. (Yeah I suck at guns, just give me whatever)

Role: Mechanic, in anything from planes and cars to televisions. However she specializes in army vehicles. She also, if needed, can drive military vehicles or planes. Molly has even had the chance to drive a tank once or twice. She often gets stuck having to pilot the helicopter.

Bio: Molly's life started with a shaky start. She often tries to avoid talking about her childhood up until she graduated high school. She never mentions her parents, her childhood home, any sort of siblings or anything. Once she mentioned having a Guinea Pig as a child, once, when she was extremely sleep deprived. In college she really took wing. As a child she enjoyed tinkering around, it was really the only thing that she liked. And as she grew up she learned that an actual career could be made out of tinkering around. She knew college would be a struggle to get into, as she had no money or work to pay her tuition. That was, until she heard about getting a huge discount on her payment if she was to join the army. Molly wasn't sure how, but she ended up being spotted by the Dreadnaughts and welcomed to join their branch. Molly figured, why not? She wanted more excitement in her life, a good paying job, a garage for her own and maybe some friends. And the best part was she would be far from home.

Other: Molly has been tempted to get another guinea pig ever since joining the Dreadnaughts and wonders if she can get away with keeping one in the garage with her.

Attributes:
19 points to divvy up however you like here
Strength: 4 (Rather strong, from lifting machine parts, she might beat you in an arm wrestling match)
Dexterity: 5 (She takes pride in her steady hand)
Constitution: 2 (While she might be a bit strong, her stamina is lacking. She also is an illness magnet)
Charisma: 3 (Completely average, might have her highs and lows with communication)  
Intelligence: 4 (She is smart, at least book smart. She has extensive knowledge on a wide array of mechanics and subjects portraying to mechanics)
Wisdom: 2 (She has a lot of trouble picking out peoples correct motives and emotions, and is easily persuaded)

Skills:

Perks:

Name: Baron "Barry" Moreau
Age: 27
Sex: M
Appearance & Attire: Barry looks rather unorthodox among the mercernary crowd, appearing somewhat of a rugged aristocrat. He is tall and slender, specifically standing at 6'2", and weighs in at 157 lbs. This said, he isn't the strongest fighter, but this is made up for by charm. His skin is fairly pail, which is sharply contrasted by his black hair, which is neatly swept backwards with a comb, and then kept in place by just a small dab of gel. He appears on missions almost as though he were going out on a date, but forgot the proper attire. His hair comes down at a crow's peak. He has piercing amber eyes, which are accompanied by thick lashes that appear, at just the right angle, somewhat hollow, as if he stared into hell and hell stared back. But even then, they appear just as brilliant, cunning, deceptive, and even deadly. His true expressions always seem somewhat hidden, as though his face were hidden by a million and one masks, each with a different story. Even his walk it seems, where even his strut appears to be well-disguised pacing. This brings along with him an air of mystery.

If he had a choice in his uniform, he'd be dressed nicely, perhaps in a nice suit with a boutonnière. However, glamor and sophistication has no place on a battlefield or among suburbs. Given how South America seems to be a popular trend in missions, the humidity doesn't help much either. So he usually does his job in waist high dress pants that rides up to his naval and are tucked into thick black boots. They are accessorized with button suspenders crossing over each other on his back and then meeting parallel down his front. These suspenders are strapped over a greatly faded light grey t-shirt. The collar has three buttons going down the center, making it able to change from a round neck to a v-neck. He usually leaves them unbuttoned. The subtle fact that there are very faint hints of blood stains on his shirt and lack of any holes might appear disturbing to anyone who just happens to notice it. On missions, that fact is often hidden by the black, bullet-proof, kevlar vest he wears. His wardobe is dynamic, so describing his outfits during casual or formal ventures would do little to express his appearance. Underneath Barry's right arm is a tattoo in Arabic, a memento from a particular mission that required him to infiltrate an organization of radicals. It reads "وعاء الله", "Allah's vessel" or "God's pot". His hands are covered in calluses and his fingers usually look a little cut up, but is generally well taken care of. If someone were to, by chance, see him without his shirt, they'd see his body littered with scars. There is also a strong brace that reinforces his left leg for some reason.

Personality: Barry appears as a cheerful and yet, at the same time, a stern fellow. He wears a smile on his face most of the time, almost naive, but also inquisitive. Many mistake his suspected optimism for cheeriness. His eyes always appear to be trailing somebody, and analyzing something, and very few details escape him. In fact, were it not for his charming demeanor, he might even be marked as the group's creep who watches everybody simultaneously. He assures this as nothing more than simple curiosity and studying human behavior. As such, he is quite adept when it comes to deductive reasoning and breaking down a person's behaviorisms that might tie in to other areas of that person's life as well. In fact, he is quite possibly more aware and knowledgeable of his comrades than they are aware of (but he is also rather fond at looking through personnel files). But there's little doubt that the man is brilliant. It was even said by his comrades: mad, but brilliant. But mad, per se, was of course the perspectives of another individual who was ignorant of Barry's reasoning and his intents.

He is a mixed bag of morality. He is sympathetic to the wounded and the soldiers that do the fighting. And while he would much rather prefer a calm and relaxing time working with his "clients" to get what he needs, he doesn't flinch at the idea of turning an interrogation session on its heels to either scare or torture the information out of a person. Jobs such as that, and jobs such as infiltration, allow him to disconnect himself from others to a degree that is almost disconcerting. However, he remains an egalitarian at heart, which leads him to vote democratic if given the opportunity. He doesn't think about religion and gods a whole lot, but he has forsaken God when he was treated in kind when imprisoned in South America.

Nationality: Canadian, but with a heavy English and Dutch heritage. His father's line was originally French.

Hobbies: Barry has quite a smoking habit. Peculiar in that he doesn't really have a set pattern, just that he has smoking days and other days where he doesn't even think to pick up the pack. When bored, he mostly just watches people move around, do their job, talk to other people or play their games - basically to observe those around him and see what he can discover. He's also always willing to have a conversation with another person, or trade some witty banter back and forth. But when he's tired and just wants some quiet time, try offering him a chess game.

Talents: Despite the oddities that he may be accused of, he isn't as emotionally distant as some people who "know" him may think. He would try to break up a fight between soldiers and other personnel, or at least ease the tension between the two or few. Even though whoever has heard of him among the ranks is well aware of his occupation, not many actually grasp how much Barry is truly a psychological genius. If he so wished it, he could play games with a person's head at a whim. His knowledge of body control allows him to lie nigh perfectly, or even see right through them. Through his years of training, he can work enough of the right charm to work the truth out of a person. Or alternatively, he can work his otherwise charming charisma into more devious matters such as intimidation or interrogation. True, while his physical form isn't too intimidating, he is cunning and intelligent enough to pick just the right words to get under your skin and play off your worst fears. That is his job in the Dreadnaughts - he isn't just some simple hired gun - there are plenty of those - when it comes to gathering information, he can hand you all you need to know just by spending some time with them alone. Having spent some time inserting himself into different places, he's somewhat of an amateur linguist. He learns enough of a bunch-a different languages, but usually forgets how to speak them afterward when they're no longer relevant.

History: Baron was born into a middle class family in Canada and went to a wonderfully reviewed school. his last name came from his fathers line - he was, in fact, only about 10% French. But that was the family line that gave him a French last name. Since his youth, psychology and the inner workings of the brain fascinated him, and took the electives and courses as they were available to him. It was a bit challenging trying to choose between neuroscience and psychology, but the idea of understanding people appealed to him more. So he pursued the psychological path. At first, he worked in counseling, whether it be with children, adults, or even marriages. That sort of thing. It was nice of course - helping people - it was heartwarming, but also a little depressing. He tried his hand in criminal psychology, which turned out to be pretty good at, and later opened up other pathways which he would try his hand in. He worked as a part-time detective, however still in the psychological field. He mostly helped figure out where the person may go given their circumstances and he was also interrogating during that time through verbal means. He attempted detective-work, which was mostly paperwork, and then private investigating when he learned he liked working by his own rules instead. He had many different jobs throughout the psychological and investigative fields.

Later, the Dreadnaughts found him and Baron found the thrill he was looking for. As it turns out, Baron was the only psychologist they found good enough or honest enough to work with them. Good enough where he even survived long enough to last a couple years, taking part in their hilarious antics (such as the time where he infiltrated a terrorist group holed up in Saudi Arabia, and was payed by the Arabians government itself). He went missing for nearly a year after a mission with them, where was kidnapped by some guerrilla group in South America.

He was interrogated and tortured, where he tried his hardest to hold himself out through the agony. He was a pretty valuable prisoner to them, as he was held in their custody for ten months. Baron told them next to nothing about the Dreadnaughts during that time, but he did feel his willpower giving out and his constitution would quite allow him much more punishment. Fortunately, during the feeding hour, they forgot to secure his manacles. He worked himself out of the cage and before slipping away, he silently killed almost half of their men with a sharp piece of scrap metal, all the while with a cartilage-worn and broken left leg. He was spared the wrath of the jungle and eventually found a civilization of a small town and secured a trip with the locals to the nearest hospital. At the hospital, he rested for a couple of days and got back in contact with the Dreadnaughts. He was back in the game with some physical rehabilitation, and that experience in South America taught him plenty. While he knew the tricks of keeping yourself from being manipulated, never was that knowledge tested as much as it was during that time. The other thing he learned? No mercy on the battlefield. It was starting then, he stopped allowing other members of the Dreadnaughts to visit him while he's interrogating. Things may get messy if his "client" is stubborn enough. It's safe to say that his methods has gotten slightly more unorthodox since his escape.

Weapons of Choice: Caracal CP - a fairly recent brand handgun that was also souvenir from the United Arab Emirates, and an early 1900s French-made Apache revolver, which is his personal, favorite one, although not at efficient as his Caracal. He likes to bust this baby out during his sessions.

Role: Psychologist, psychiatrist, interrogator, et cetera. Official people person.
Other: Barry suspects he knows more about the Dreadnaughts and its VIPs than he lets on. Unusually devoted to his job in the Dreadnaughts.

Stats n' Skills:

Perks perkier than an excited woman on a cold winter day: