'Makarus'

Makarus


(Picture was drawn on shitty windows paint)










People Relations



Everyone

Everyone will pay.





Equiptment

One pair of NCR prisoner rags

One Pre War electric wheel chair

Hatred


Skills/Perks


Corrupting the innocent.

Intellect

Backstory


I sit here now. Thinking. The guards of the camp watch me, eyeing me like I'm some sort of...freak. I am a freak.. But who can I blame for doing this to me? I cant remember... no wait. I can. Adam is to blame. Sandman he calls himself... A desert ranger of the wastes, someone I used to fight. He was a... Ranger. Yes, now I remember. A Desert Ranger..

I should start from the beginning..

I was born in a slave camp, far away from this dreaded camp. Thousands of miles away infact, in a great destroyed city called 'Austin', somewhere in what used to be Texas.. I was a slave, for a good half of my childhood, where I was beaten and abused. When my father died in that camp, I escaped, and to this day I'm not sure how.

After a while of wandering in that City I was captured by a Cult of freaks, that sewed the dead limbs of enemies onto themselves for their own beliefs. For the rest of my childhood, I was one of these freaks. I learned to fight, I learned to hide, but none of that matters anymore. I can't fight. Eventually that camp was attacked by a company of NCR Rangers, from thousands of miles away, most likely scouting out the territory... There was one survivor to that attack. Me. I left the destroyed city, and began to travel all across what used to be called America, until I found a place suitable for starting a new Cult of freaks. By now I didn't give a damn about what we believed in, or about our Higher Being.. All I cared about was the power that came with leading this Cult. Not only did I have followers, but I had plenty of wasters working for me.. Doing bounties, spreading our message.

I've killed so many people.. But my people still loved me. Still fought for me. Still protected me.

After the forming of this group, we were taken on by a faction that calls themselves the Desert Rangers... I remember each of them so vividly... All of them, killing my people, my family, and eventually killing my ability to fight. They hammered us day by day, drove us to desperation, but it doesn't matter anymore. My followers are dead, and I might as well be dead too.

One day, after being attacked by a Deathclaw, I was wounded and unarmed.. Unfortunately, the ranger that calls himself ADAM found me. He made me like this. I dont remember what happened to much.. I was shot, right through my spine... Disabling me for life. After that, I can remember him trying to torture me. Repeatedly dunking my head in a bucket... he has no idea what things I have gone through to make that feel like nothing..

There was something in the bucket.. I don't know what it was. It could have been extreme Rads. It might have been bomb chemicles, or possibly even waste FEV. My head began to sizzle, and I could hear the skin on my head bubbling, and burning off, then regrowing again. Adam just stood there, staring at me in awe. I heard cracking, as if something was breaking open my skull, but nothing was. I put my hands on the top of my head, and they were pushed up wards as my head began to bloat up. I could hear my brain on the inside of my head brewing into something new.. Something different. Then, everything went black.

I woke up.... In this chair... I looked around. A prison camp... I can't move. The guards eye me like some sort of freak.. Did I mention that before? I sit here all day. I've been sitting here for at least a week.. I can't move my arms to feel what has happened to my head.. I can only guess what it looks like now..

But I'm not sitting in the camp anymore. I'm in a dark room. Light streams from one of the windows, and I look around the room. Where am I? Who took me here? I begin to think... and then I remember. Yesterday a man I did buisness with before.. his name was 'Carbon' broke me out.. He told me that he cares for nothing but wealth and fame. Why did he break me out? What would he want with me, when I am bare of any goods or skills that he can take use of? He'll probably sell me to the Enclave for testing. I don't know. I'll just wait here. Nothing else I can do.

Amazing drawing btw.

Most characters look normal, where you can type in ''Guy with a gasmask'' or ''Guy with a hoodie'' in google, and find a picture that perfectly matches your character. I didn't try, but I doubt you'll find much useful if you type in ''Charred person in a wheelchair with a large head'' into google.

Lol. Couldn't find a "balaclava soldier" for Red that didn't have a WATERMAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!

Also, since the picture is completely self drawn with pixels, I'll be able to edit him almost daily if anything about his appearance changes (For example, he gets different clothes, or his head grows larger, or he gets a different chair etc.)