Lark
The Hunter
Not all who wander are lost and all that crap. Loner, ranger, deadeye - youve been called all these things. Maybe theyre true. All you know is that youre a damn good shot and you aint afraid of a little rough terrain. You and your animal compadre know the way. If anyone wants to follow you, well, thats up to them.
Name: Lark
Look: Concealed; dusty travel wear; sharp face; tired eyes; wiry body.
Vice: The Good Stuff - Get drunk or wasted and blow somebody off.
Pursuit: Maybe at some point you made somebody angry. Maybe a lot of somebodies. Stay one step ahead of whoever is after you.
Stats
Cool+1 Hard=0 Hot-1 Sharp+2 Weird+1
Health: 11 Health
Melee damage die: 1d4
Moves
Animal Companion: Stalker (Biscuit) (A very good boy)
Stats:
Mean+3 Smart+1 Tough+1 Keen+2
Mean: Stealthy; Quick reflexes; Calm
Smart: Scout
Weakness: Stubborn
Long Shot: Any gun youre holding automatically gets +far.
Class Mods
[...]
Gear
Sniper rifle (1d10 far, hi-tech; 4 Ammo. Hyperion.)
Survival gear (TBT)
Shotgun (2d4 close, messy, loud; 4 Ammo. Bandit.)
Light shield (8 shield, fast - recharge 1d4+4)
New-U account
ECHO Communicator
Fast Travel pass
Digistructing backpack
2 reloads for the gun or guns of your choice (9/12, Sniper rifle)
1-barter or 100 Cash
History
Regicide: -1
Sparkplug: +1
Delilah: -1
Bellona: +3
On your turn: You dont like getting close to people. Tell everyone History-1.
On the others turns: Someone has wandered the Borderlands with you for a long time. Whatever they tell you, write History+3 instead.
"Hard to do overwatch for anyone who ain't Bellona now. She's done went and got me spoiled. Keeps her head in a fight. Mainly on account of her knowin' when to duck for me."
Youve seen someone do some shit you werent cool with. Whatever they tell you, write History-1 instead.
"I seen Regicide chaw up what shoulda been a ten minute cleanup, by all accounts. 'What accounts?' Mine. I coulda stopped the gunner right quick. Hard to do that with a feller whose big ass is hellbent on carvortin' right in your el-oh-ess. All down but nine, that one."
Lark knows how to disappear in the Borderlands' wilderness. He can even do it without dying.
A worn, wide-brimmed hat shadows his face. A faded red silk scarf is pulled up over the bridge of his nose; between the hat, only a bare sliver of marred skin allotted for his eyes. The left is prosthetic. Crude metal harnessed in a swivel around a dimly glowing red optic. The right is natural. Dark brown.
A raggedy poncho, its original pattern hard to distinguish, lays over his shoulders. He wears a long duster with fringes that dangle across the chest, shoulders, back, and especially the arms. The left hand that peeks out from the cuff is comprised of rough-hewn, dark metal. He jingles when he walks, in spurred boots that stop just below the knee.
You may know him as the planet record holder for the most black eyes, given or received, in seedy bars. Rumoured to sleep in skag dens. Smells like it sometimes, too.