"The good may not be easy to find, but it's worth looking for."
Name: Anthony Dour
Aliases: Tony
Sex: Male
Karma: Good
Age: 24
Appearance
Skin tone: Black
Height: 5’ 11”
Weight: 160 lbs
Build: Slim
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black, Buzzcut
Apparel: He wears sturdy pants, once black, but now faded to gray. His feet are covered by brown leather boots, worn through in a couple of places, but the soles still have plenty of rubber. He also wears a beat up, punctured blue and gray body armor vest, though the actual armor was stripped from the vest before he got it. The vest covers yellowed white shirt. He has a single black synthetic glove on his right hand, trigger finger missing. In harsher weather he dons a coarse black scarf.
Known Inventory:
- Weapons: .45 Auto Pistol & Hunting rifle (Scope separate)
- Patched up ham radio
- A small tarp and a roll for camping
Background
Skills: Tony is a practiced marksman, having hunted to help provide for his family for years. A rifle in his hands feels natural.
Place of Birth: Utah
Religion: Mormon
Political Affiliation: He isn't an official citizen of any of the larger governments that have risen since the Great War, and tends to avoid their intrigue and complexities in favor of simply living his life.
Occupation: Courier/Hunter
Organizations/Factions: No official affiliation, but has traded with NCR caravans often enough.
Favorite food/drink: He enjoys grilled mantis more than most.
Interests: When nothing else is occupying him, he likes making baubles and trinkets with scrap he encounters on the road, which he usually sells or gives away when passing through settled areas.
Flaws: Though amicable, he is unwilling to open up to people or making lasting connections. Whether because of his culture, the struggles of his family, or his preference for keeping on the road is unclear.
Relationships: Small family back in California
Personality: Quiet, but peaceable when approached, Tony's outlook is generally one of acceptance, though this is far from trust. He may not be visibly on edge, but he's always ready to defend himself, and it shows in a posture that is often stiff, and reactions that sometimes seem automatic. Though patient and restrained, he is no push over, and if the need arises, won't hesitate to end a fight...permanently.
Backstory
Hailing from Utah, Dour doesn't speak much about what has brought him so far south. If asked, he'll usually reply something to the effect of "A bit of dissent, and a stubborn father." He answers to "Tony", or "Dour" and seems like an amicable type, generally willing to have a conversation, or pass the time with a game, but his main interest in the area is employment. He has experience tracking and hunting as well as guiding and guarding caravans. Because he had to sell a lot of his old gear to make the last leg of the trip to down to Nevada, he now seeks, like many, to find his fortune among the Mojave Wastes.
The Dours, consisting of Anthony, his older brother, Max, his father Bray, and his mother Carol, used to live in New Canaan, where his father's family had been a well-integrated part of the bustling Mormon community. When Jeremiah Rigdon became the controversial and radical leader of the settlement in 2245 many members of the community left in protest, the Dours among them. They settled for a few years at the outskirts of New Canaan territory. While some families eventually returned to New Canaan, Bray Dour and a few others still doubted Rigdon, and following Anthony's birth, decided it was about time that the New Canaanites put out roots elsewhere. Bray led them further west, along with another family, hoping to find a place to settle in the New California Republic.
The trek was extremely difficult, particularly with a child, and it tempered the jovial, spiritual families with cynicism and strong instincts. Too stubborn to turn back despite the mounting dangers, they took to hunting and gathering, moving across the countryside as prey would allow, sometimes stopping for a year or more, only to move on again later. Skirting Legion controlled territory taught them many lessons in caution and concealment, while the Bull's reputation kept them mostly safe from raiders. They might not have been as grateful had they known about the fate of New Canaan.
The years-long journey came to an end as they crossed into central California. As they passed the border, tragedy struck: they were caught in a raider ambush. Tony's brother and two members of the family accompanying them were killed. When they managed to escape, they sought refuge in the shadow of a Brotherhood outpost, and came to a stop. The heads of the two families resolved to stay there, rather than risk crossing more open Wasteland. Tony had quite grown up by then, and between restlessness and the painful memories now staining the landscape, he chose to leave his family, and continue south.
He made good time on his own, and when he needed supplies he took work as caravan guard, his years of hunting with his family paying off nicely. He eventually traveled with a caravan into the Mojave proper, and was picked up as a courier by the Mojave express...
"I warned you."
"The good may not be easy to find, but it's worth looking for."
Name: Anthony Dour
Aliases: Tony
Sex: Male
Karma: Good
Age: 24
Appearance
Skin tone: Black
Height: 5’ 11”
Weight: 160 lbs
Build: Slim
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black, Buzzcut
Apparel: He wears sturdy pants, once black, but now faded to gray. His feet are covered by brown leather boots, worn through in a couple of places, but the soles still have plenty of rubber. He also wears a beat up, punctured blue and gray body armor vest, though the actual armor was stripped from the vest before he got it. The vest covers yellowed white shirt. He has a single black synthetic glove on his right hand, trigger finger missing. In harsher weather he dons a coarse black scarf.
Known Inventory:
- Weapons: .45 Auto Pistol & Hunting rifle (Scope separate)
- Patched up ham radio
- A small tarp and a roll for camping
Background
Skills: Tony is a practiced marksman, having hunted to help provide for his family for years. A rifle in his hands feels natural.
Place of Birth: Utah
Religion: Mormon
Political Affiliation: He isn't an official citizen of any of the larger governments that have risen since the Great War, and tends to avoid their intrigue and complexities in favor of simply living his life.
Occupation: Courier/Hunter
Organizations/Factions: No official affiliation, but has traded with NCR caravans often enough.
Favorite food/drink: He enjoys grilled mantis more than most.
Interests: When nothing else is occupying him, he likes making baubles and trinkets with scrap he encounters on the road, which he usually sells or gives away when passing through settled areas.
Flaws: Though amicable, he is unwilling to open up to people or making lasting connections. Whether because of his culture, the struggles of his family, or his preference for keeping on the road is unclear.
Relationships: Small family back in California
Personality: Quiet, but peaceable when approached, Tony's outlook is generally one of acceptance, though this is far from trust. He may not be visibly on edge, but he's always ready to defend himself, and it shows in a posture that is often stiff, and reactions that sometimes seem automatic. Though patient and restrained, he is no push over, and if the need arises, won't hesitate to end a fight...permanently.
Backstory
Hailing from Utah, Dour doesn't speak much about what has brought him so far south. If asked, he'll usually reply something to the effect of "A bit of dissent, and a stubborn father." He answers to "Tony", or "Dour" and seems like an amicable type, generally willing to have a conversation, or pass the time with a game, but his main interest in the area is employment. He has experience tracking and hunting as well as guiding and guarding caravans. Because he had to sell a lot of his old gear to make the last leg of the trip to down to Nevada, he now seeks, like many, to find his fortune among the Mojave Wastes.
The Dours, consisting of Anthony, his older brother, Max, his father Bray, and his mother Carol, used to live in New Canaan, where his father's family had been a well-integrated part of the bustling Mormon community. When Jeremiah Rigdon became the controversial and radical leader of the settlement in 2245 many members of the community left in protest, the Dours among them. They settled for a few years at the outskirts of New Canaan territory. While some families eventually returned to New Canaan, Bray Dour and a few others still doubted Rigdon, and following Anthony's birth, decided it was about time that the New Canaanites put out roots elsewhere. Bray led them further west, along with another family, hoping to find a place to settle in the New California Republic.
The trek was extremely difficult, particularly with a child, and it tempered the jovial, spiritual families with cynicism and strong instincts. Too stubborn to turn back despite the mounting dangers, they took to hunting and gathering, moving across the countryside as prey would allow, sometimes stopping for a year or more, only to move on again later. Skirting Legion controlled territory taught them many lessons in caution and concealment, while the Bull's reputation kept them mostly safe from raiders. They might not have been as grateful had they known about the fate of New Canaan.
The years-long journey came to an end as they crossed into central California. As they passed the border, tragedy struck: they were caught in a raider ambush. Tony's brother and two members of the family accompanying them were killed. When they managed to escape, they sought refuge in the shadow of a Brotherhood outpost, and came to a stop. The heads of the two families resolved to stay there, rather than risk crossing more open Wasteland. Tony had quite grown up by then, and between restlessness and the painful memories now staining the landscape, he chose to leave his family, and continue south.
He made good time on his own, and when he needed supplies he took work as caravan guard, his years of hunting with his family paying off nicely. He eventually traveled with a caravan into the Mojave proper, and was picked up as a courier by the Mojave express...
"I warned you."
