Angel Black
Here is a write-up for my character, Angel Black. I took averages rather than rolling stats. Also, the history assumes a Klick attack on a backwater named Grit; if that creates a problem, let me know and we can re-tool.
Also, she has a significant Rep. I figure that applies maybe to bounty hunters and those who move in those circles, rather than being applied to a specific planet.
[sblock=Angel Black]
Angel Black, a 28-year old female Alert Human, who is going to get this job done, dammit.
Homeworld: Desert
History:
Moisture Farmer
Bounty Hunterx2
Police Officerx2
STR 3 AGI 7 END 6
INT 8 LOG 8 WIL 3
CHA 4 LUC 6 PSI 0
REP 4
Skills:
Pistols 3 Martial Arts 1
Rifle 1 Dodging 1
Survival 1 Driving 1
Engineering 1 Tracking 1
Perception 1 Bureaucracy 1
Intimidate 1
Exploits:
Aim
Technician
Datamining
Prey: Humans
Out of Place
Troublesense
Trait:
Alert (+1d6 Percpetion, always wins init ties)
Derived:
Health: 17
Speed: 5
Jump: 14’/3’
Carry: 90
Init: 3d6
Melee Defense: 14
Ranged Defense: 14
Mental Defense: 10
Vital Defense: 10
Unarmed Damage: 1d6+2
Starting Credits: 350
Equipment:
Regulator Gear: Disruptor Pistol, Survival Tool Kit, Mesh Lining Longcoat
Rifle (Slugger), Pistol (Slugger)
Backpack, Binoculars, Handcuffs, Knife, Planetary Communicator
Full whiskey flask (contains 3 drinks)
Credits in-hand: 50
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[sblock=History]
Angel van Buisseth was born in the Reach. Her parents were Sooners, part of a group that moved in before the Union gave the go-ahead so that they could get out from under the yoke of the corporate world where they’d been raised. They settled on Grit, an aptly named world with mineral wealth and practically nothing else to recommend it. Angel grew up fighting a perpetual battle to keep the dust from infiltrating the moisture harvesters and swallowing the farm.
At the age of 14, fate intervened. Mallax, a Felan bounty hunter, came to Grit chasing a rogue corporate executive. He got lost in a dust storm and ended up at the farm. When he started asking questions, Angel remembered she’d seen the man in town, and figured out how to find him. This impressed Mallax, especially when the girl demanded a cut of the bounty for the information. When the job was complete, Mallax offered to take her on as an apprentice to learn the trade.
She worked with him for several years, traveling from system to system and hunting down all manner of criminal. She took the alias “Angel Black” to make it harder for any angry acquaintances to trace her back to her parents. Mallax taught her how to take criminals alive, as the rewards were usually better, but also taught her not to hesitate when it was time to pull the trigger. When Angel decided she’d learned enough, they parted ways. When their paths have crossed since, their relationship has swung between vicious competition for the same bounty and laughter over beers.
Angel built a rep for herself, spending years hopping from world to world after embezzlers, escaped felons, criminals on the lam, and unfaithful lovers with rich and vindictive exes. On the way to claim the payoff for a particularly lucrative job, she booked passage aboard a freighter. She fell for a crewman, Aneth Vance, and the two had an intense romance in the close quarters of the ship.
Two days before the voyage ended, it came as a shock to find that, despite precautions, she was pregnant. She told Aneth, who gave all appearances of being happy about it. But he disappeared within hours of their hitting port.
This was a stupid thing to try with a top-drawer bounty hunter. Aneth woke up the next morning to a knife at his throat and the kind of smile you never want to see on an ex-lover’s face. But she left without hurting him. She’d just wanted him to know she could have.
No one ever asked Angel why she decided to keep the child, and if they had, she would not have known how to answer. But she’d put together enough cash to settle down somewhere and do something else. And maybe she was just tired of a life where she woke up every morning hoping to meet one of humanity’s most contemptible specimens.
She returned to Grit. She had vague notions of buying some land, but she found something more suitable. The settlement where she had grown up had become large enough to get a name – Greenrock – and the town council had just decided they needed a sheriff. Angel was perfect – she was from the community, but had been away long enough that she wasn’t caught up in any of the local feuds.
As she started to show, there was some grumbling in the town that maybe she should have told them she was pregnant. This ended when, 6 months into her term, a local troublemaker decided this was a good time to help himself to some expensive bottles from the local saloon. When Angel confronted him about the theft, he said some things that proved to be unwise. A moment later, as he was lying in the dirt moaning in agony, she explained that it was, “*Sheriff* fat, ugly, bitch.” He paid for the whiskey and the town stopped grumbling.
The 6 years that followed were good. Her son, Gareth, grew healthy and strong, and Angel’s parents sold the farm and moved in with them. Angel was a fixture in the community, working with Mayor Teegal to keep order in the growing mining town.
It was the Klicks who ruined it. Angel and Teegal organized an orderly evacuation as soon as the orbital bombardment began, somehow managing to get 200 people across open desert over a three day march to the spaceport. To this day, Angel does not know if the Klicks actually landed to take possession of Greenrock or if they just blasted it for spite.
The Union was organizing a mass evacuation, and the family boarded a hastily-modified freighter. They wound up on Clemency, a world of little value where the Union had set up a refugee settlement.
Angel had seen refugee settlements in her prior life, and it took less than a nanosecond for her to decide that her son was not staying in this one. She needed cash in a hurry, so she called an old friend at the Regulators. She got a job and a signing bonus on the strength of her reputation, blew the cash setting her parents and son up in an apartment on Clemency, and wandered off to take on her new gig.
She is too much the Reacher to waste time bemoaning her misfortune. She does not want to be away from her son, and would rather there were something she could do for her friends languishing in the refugee camp, but this is the best she can do right now. She will go where she needs to, clean up whatever mess is put in front of her, and kick any asses that need kicking. But the Regulators had better not be late with those checks.
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