Post by Masquerade on May 7, 2006 5:27:40 GMT 12
[Name >> Quinn "Shrapnel" Richardson
[Age >> 16
[Gender >> Female. Ish.
[Tribe >> Cigarettes
[Rank >> Commoner
[Nationality >> American
[Politics >> Doesn't know, doesn't care.
[Romantic orientation >> Presumed straight.
[Appearance >> At an even 5 feet, and sturdy rather than lean, Shrapnel seems to lack any 'gender identifiers'. To phrase it bluntly, she looks like a boy. The shapeless, threadbare hoodie and cargo khakis don't seem to help, either, and if anything just help to condemn her even further into androgyny. Twisted scars pock-mark the skin of her right cheek and torso, continuing to just past her hip where they trail off. Her hair is dishwater blonde, and her eyes are foggy blue, and are pretty much the only notable feature on her entire person.
Build up of scar tissue of her right-side has affected her flexibility drastically; becomes quite stiff and sore when its cold out.
[Attitude >> Sociable, but a little to quick to lash out to really be considered a people person, Shrapnel would prefer to be left alone to prevent her temper from getting the best of her. Small talk isn't her thing; if you have something to say, it'd better be worth her time. She's touchy about her personal space and, to put it quite bluntly, will bite, kick, and scratch anyone who gets too close without her consent.
[Notable History >> Born and raised in New York, she just happened to be lucky enough to be out of the city visiting relatives when the Black Plague struck. Her parents and siblings perished in the aftermath, and she lived with her aunt and uncle until she heard the rumors of kids moving back into the city.
So Shrapnel, still known as Quinn then, joins up with an acquaintance, a boy with the same hopes of joining the feral population in the wrecked city, and set out for 'New Pork'. Hitch-hiking and stolen vehicles got them most of the way, but once they reached the razorwire...
Only Shrapnel made it through, and sporting a rather impressive series of lacerations down the right side of her body and face; apparently she got caught part way through a fence and dragged herself through, leaving a rather significant portion of herself behind. She doesn't know what happened to the boy, who's name she never really cared enough to learn.
[Reputation >> Quick to anger and slow to cool off. Despite her size, she's quite capable of tearing you a new one.
[Age >> 16
[Gender >> Female. Ish.
[Tribe >> Cigarettes
[Rank >> Commoner
[Nationality >> American
[Politics >> Doesn't know, doesn't care.
[Romantic orientation >> Presumed straight.
[Appearance >> At an even 5 feet, and sturdy rather than lean, Shrapnel seems to lack any 'gender identifiers'. To phrase it bluntly, she looks like a boy. The shapeless, threadbare hoodie and cargo khakis don't seem to help, either, and if anything just help to condemn her even further into androgyny. Twisted scars pock-mark the skin of her right cheek and torso, continuing to just past her hip where they trail off. Her hair is dishwater blonde, and her eyes are foggy blue, and are pretty much the only notable feature on her entire person.
Build up of scar tissue of her right-side has affected her flexibility drastically; becomes quite stiff and sore when its cold out.
[Attitude >> Sociable, but a little to quick to lash out to really be considered a people person, Shrapnel would prefer to be left alone to prevent her temper from getting the best of her. Small talk isn't her thing; if you have something to say, it'd better be worth her time. She's touchy about her personal space and, to put it quite bluntly, will bite, kick, and scratch anyone who gets too close without her consent.
[Notable History >> Born and raised in New York, she just happened to be lucky enough to be out of the city visiting relatives when the Black Plague struck. Her parents and siblings perished in the aftermath, and she lived with her aunt and uncle until she heard the rumors of kids moving back into the city.
So Shrapnel, still known as Quinn then, joins up with an acquaintance, a boy with the same hopes of joining the feral population in the wrecked city, and set out for 'New Pork'. Hitch-hiking and stolen vehicles got them most of the way, but once they reached the razorwire...
Only Shrapnel made it through, and sporting a rather impressive series of lacerations down the right side of her body and face; apparently she got caught part way through a fence and dragged herself through, leaving a rather significant portion of herself behind. She doesn't know what happened to the boy, who's name she never really cared enough to learn.
[Reputation >> Quick to anger and slow to cool off. Despite her size, she's quite capable of tearing you a new one.
