Peter Firecrow
![](https://rpol.net/portraits/m/mfw294.jpg)
His father had many girlfriends over the years, Peter's mother having died giving birth to him. His father said he would never truly love again and he seemed to blame Peter for Ann's passing. And then Joseph set out to break all kinds of records with the quantity and age of the women he dated.
To say that Peter grew up to be a jaded man would be an understatement of the worst sort. He even earned the nickname "The Jade Indian" by some of his fellows. He dealt in a lot of things once he took over the business and expanded it into a one-man empire. He dealt in gambling, prostitution, weapons, ammunition, liquor, smuggling, and more. He made money hand over fist and lived the life of luxury and depravity.
And never knew a day of happiness.
He built an underground bunker to house his most important goods safe from prying eyes, and it doubled as a fallout shelter when things went bad. He took refuge in it and survived hell. He was attacked and beaten not long after he emerged, the things he had on him stolen. He was taken in and cared for by a small scared family of three (mother, father and very young daughter). They didn't have much but they shared with Peter until he was well. The family was slaughtered by bandits and when Peter returned to share some of his goods with them as his first ever act of kindness he saw the burnt out husk of a home and the crispy skeletons that remained.
He was devastated and for the first time in 20 years he cried. He sat on knees and cried for hours, occasionally screaming, sometimes being silent. He poured his heart out into the bloodstained ground and something changed in him. He went back to his cache and loaded for bear, but not just with weapons and ammo. He took along useable gear and foodstuffs, which he passed out to those who were in need as he traveled. He doesn't have much left from when he left Deadwood, though his cache may still be intact. But he still travels and brings deadly justice to those who deserve it.
It's the least he can do.
Peter doesn't look like the sort of person who would care about other people. He doesn't normally strike a first impression of being a humanitarian. He looks like a Ravenite, one of the Native Americans who used to make a living off of other people. He has the best gear money could buy, and a lip that looks like it could be perpetually curling up in disgust.
But he's trying.
He stands a bit under six feet tall, and doesn't look like he weighs too much over a buck fifty. His hair is starting to gray a bit, but his skin still looks as healthy as anyone's skin does in this time, and he doesn't seem starved. He is often seen in a NA Infantry Battlesuit, a helmet generally nearby. He has an autoshotgun slung over his shoulder, and a ruger redhawk holster under his left armpit.