Full Name:
Rowan "Boston" Alder
Nickname(s):
Boston
Age:
28
Gender:
Male
From:
Outside
Role:
Ex-military, scavenger, duster
~
Personality:
The military never could quash Bostons sarcastic, apathetic nature though despite that Boston still conformed to orders. There is a lot of lost social etiquette in Bostons head should he ever find civilization again, though he's not sure he'd utilize all of it... in fact Beethoven would probably be introduced first.
Bostons not the shy or quite type, in fact if he wasn't wielding a massive buzz-axe you'd think him quite normal and plain albeit not quite mentally matured, though this was wars fault, Bostons own coping mechanism. First impressions would be deceiving, Bostons a lot more realistic and level than he appears or talks. He accepts fights, not provokes them. Not quite the "tag along" person Boston has a mission in his mind and he intends to see it done.
Rowan "Boston" Alder
Nickname(s):
Boston
Age:
28
Gender:
Male
From:
Outside
Role:
Ex-military, scavenger, duster
~
Personality:
The military never could quash Bostons sarcastic, apathetic nature though despite that Boston still conformed to orders. There is a lot of lost social etiquette in Bostons head should he ever find civilization again, though he's not sure he'd utilize all of it... in fact Beethoven would probably be introduced first.
Bostons not the shy or quite type, in fact if he wasn't wielding a massive buzz-axe you'd think him quite normal and plain albeit not quite mentally matured, though this was wars fault, Bostons own coping mechanism. First impressions would be deceiving, Bostons a lot more realistic and level than he appears or talks. He accepts fights, not provokes them. Not quite the "tag along" person Boston has a mission in his mind and he intends to see it done.
His buzz-axe affectionately known as "Beethoven"
Pre 1940 music
Clean wipes
Dares
His pillow
Cereal
Cans
Dislikes:
Questions
Fire arms
Plans
Settling
Silence
Electronics
Rain
Strengths:
Physical contact really swings for Boston.
Survival in a haphazard fashion
Due to all Bostons injuries he has become quite adept at applying field wounds.
Weaknesses:
Boston was never a crack shot when forced to use a gun, not that he will touch now there's no one to make him.
Pretty much useless with technology
Questions
Fire arms
Plans
Settling
Silence
Electronics
Rain
Strengths:
Physical contact really swings for Boston.
Survival in a haphazard fashion
Due to all Bostons injuries he has become quite adept at applying field wounds.
Weaknesses:
Boston was never a crack shot when forced to use a gun, not that he will touch now there's no one to make him.
Pretty much useless with technology
History:
Life for Rowan stopped way before the "Touch" but so as not to get ahead of oneself; the beginning. There wasn't anything wrong with Rowan's birth or his family for that matter. He was the second child out of four, all boys bar the youngest. Rowan didn't excel at high school though many of his friend did. Age the age of 17 he began applying to the local law enforcement but no job transpired and at the age of 20 he signed up to army.
Military training suited Rowan ill, the only area Rowan could claim any promise to was boxing in which he soon became known. The regiment was shipped out on routine when he was 23, to the dismantling British Isles. Within the first week he had lost his entire regiment to the Essex Defense league, one of many British terror squads seizing counties. There was no reason Rowan had survived where his comrades hadn't, it was luck. He hadn't been the best shooter, the greatest survivalist or the most level headed; he had just been lucky.
Fortunately Governmental freedom forces found Rowan (a long with remnants of other US regiments). It was during this time Rowan lost his name among the freedom forces to Boston, his home town. Old music was the FF's long standing moral booster and what started off grating became Bostons "flavour" in his words. A few things learnt aboard were: always keep your pillow in a plastic case, clean wipes aren't washes but "on the go" it's a must, settling equates to discovery and usually followed by death, Aluminium cans have so many many uses. Boston excelled at unconventional hand to hand combat, crafting his own buzz axe that was known as Beethoven by all the lads in the FF.
Boston fought with the freedom forces years past the US governments decision to stop sending reinforcements, until the world experienced the "Touch," then it no longer mattered... Boston has only just made it back to the American shores; he had heard at least one of his relations made it into "The Dome" the US built in reaction to the "Touch".
~
Family:
Brenda Alder - Mother
Farrol Alder - Father
Jerry Alder - Eldest brother
Cosmo Alder - Youngest brother
Eliza Alder - Little Sister
Theme Song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLnL63cXmD8
Other:
It's not really understood how Boston is still Boston, after all he prefers hand to hand combat and that would be a death sentence if he chose to spar with the wrong person.
Sample Post:
Bright orange and yellow flickers poured across Bostons awakening eyes. The sound of dusty friction echoed down a long passage and he felt his body ground into the dirt path. The reverberating sound of men speaking alerted him, especially the frequency of the word "meat". The blurred boots in front of Boston were bound with a plastic tie and as he anchored his head back he noticed that his arms were hooked to a motorized cart. His arms were chafing from combination of coarse rope and his entire weight; blood had been trickling down from his wrists and dropped infrequently to the soil his lower half was then scrapped over. In front of the cart were five men. Most had makeshift clubs but the head man had a rifle shouldered and had glanced back in time to catch Boston's eye line.
"He's awake," The rifled man turned barking to the others, "Tech, deal with it." The man closest to Boston nodded at the order.
"Do you want me to break his nose a second time, Nat?" Tech asked moving closer to Boston. Boston hadn't even noticed that his nose was jaunting out in the vision of his right eye more than his left, or that dried blood - his dried blood - was saturating his navy shirt.
"No first names! Are you a complete moron?" The rifled man sprayed, "Gun is the name I set, use it!" Gun aka Nat, turned his head away adjusting the strap his gun rested with. Tech moved towards Boston, his eyes completely concealed behind emerald goggles and mouth hidden by a dust coated scarf. He was carrying a what resembled a guitar neck but attached to the end were five sharp blades.
"Night time again buddy, don't expect to awake again," Tech muttered apathetically whilst raising the blunt end of his instrument. Boston smiled uneasily and hopped his legs beneath himself pushing up. The force pushed Boston onto the cart unceremoniously where he unhooked his hands still bound, and leaped from the cart double kicking Tech in chest. Tech flailed awkwardly to the floor and upon impact with the ground was left unconscious. The four ahead jolted-to when they heard the cart thud and witnessed in time Tech's fall. Boston rolled up sitting and grabbed the guitar neck rubbing a blade across the plastic tie. The tie snapped in time for the first of the four men to run around the cart, he was holding a jagged metal pipe and arched it up.
"Oh you're dead man," the man shouted and launched his pipe and self at Boston. Lifting Tech's weapon the pipes destination was altered to just right of Bostons head, though heat dribbled down his cheek. The fighter's smile faded when Boston kicked out his knees in return, bringing the assailant down and embedding the five pronged death instrument into the man's head.
"If I'm dead, you must be alive," Boston quipped sarcastically and then glanced around to find two men now surrounded him and Nat at the front held his rifle square at him.
Life for Rowan stopped way before the "Touch" but so as not to get ahead of oneself; the beginning. There wasn't anything wrong with Rowan's birth or his family for that matter. He was the second child out of four, all boys bar the youngest. Rowan didn't excel at high school though many of his friend did. Age the age of 17 he began applying to the local law enforcement but no job transpired and at the age of 20 he signed up to army.
Military training suited Rowan ill, the only area Rowan could claim any promise to was boxing in which he soon became known. The regiment was shipped out on routine when he was 23, to the dismantling British Isles. Within the first week he had lost his entire regiment to the Essex Defense league, one of many British terror squads seizing counties. There was no reason Rowan had survived where his comrades hadn't, it was luck. He hadn't been the best shooter, the greatest survivalist or the most level headed; he had just been lucky.
Fortunately Governmental freedom forces found Rowan (a long with remnants of other US regiments). It was during this time Rowan lost his name among the freedom forces to Boston, his home town. Old music was the FF's long standing moral booster and what started off grating became Bostons "flavour" in his words. A few things learnt aboard were: always keep your pillow in a plastic case, clean wipes aren't washes but "on the go" it's a must, settling equates to discovery and usually followed by death, Aluminium cans have so many many uses. Boston excelled at unconventional hand to hand combat, crafting his own buzz axe that was known as Beethoven by all the lads in the FF.
Boston fought with the freedom forces years past the US governments decision to stop sending reinforcements, until the world experienced the "Touch," then it no longer mattered... Boston has only just made it back to the American shores; he had heard at least one of his relations made it into "The Dome" the US built in reaction to the "Touch".
~
Family:
Brenda Alder - Mother
Farrol Alder - Father
Jerry Alder - Eldest brother
Cosmo Alder - Youngest brother
Eliza Alder - Little Sister
Theme Song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLnL63cXmD8
Other:
It's not really understood how Boston is still Boston, after all he prefers hand to hand combat and that would be a death sentence if he chose to spar with the wrong person.
Sample Post:
Bright orange and yellow flickers poured across Bostons awakening eyes. The sound of dusty friction echoed down a long passage and he felt his body ground into the dirt path. The reverberating sound of men speaking alerted him, especially the frequency of the word "meat". The blurred boots in front of Boston were bound with a plastic tie and as he anchored his head back he noticed that his arms were hooked to a motorized cart. His arms were chafing from combination of coarse rope and his entire weight; blood had been trickling down from his wrists and dropped infrequently to the soil his lower half was then scrapped over. In front of the cart were five men. Most had makeshift clubs but the head man had a rifle shouldered and had glanced back in time to catch Boston's eye line.
"He's awake," The rifled man turned barking to the others, "Tech, deal with it." The man closest to Boston nodded at the order.
"Do you want me to break his nose a second time, Nat?" Tech asked moving closer to Boston. Boston hadn't even noticed that his nose was jaunting out in the vision of his right eye more than his left, or that dried blood - his dried blood - was saturating his navy shirt.
"No first names! Are you a complete moron?" The rifled man sprayed, "Gun is the name I set, use it!" Gun aka Nat, turned his head away adjusting the strap his gun rested with. Tech moved towards Boston, his eyes completely concealed behind emerald goggles and mouth hidden by a dust coated scarf. He was carrying a what resembled a guitar neck but attached to the end were five sharp blades.
"Night time again buddy, don't expect to awake again," Tech muttered apathetically whilst raising the blunt end of his instrument. Boston smiled uneasily and hopped his legs beneath himself pushing up. The force pushed Boston onto the cart unceremoniously where he unhooked his hands still bound, and leaped from the cart double kicking Tech in chest. Tech flailed awkwardly to the floor and upon impact with the ground was left unconscious. The four ahead jolted-to when they heard the cart thud and witnessed in time Tech's fall. Boston rolled up sitting and grabbed the guitar neck rubbing a blade across the plastic tie. The tie snapped in time for the first of the four men to run around the cart, he was holding a jagged metal pipe and arched it up.
"Oh you're dead man," the man shouted and launched his pipe and self at Boston. Lifting Tech's weapon the pipes destination was altered to just right of Bostons head, though heat dribbled down his cheek. The fighter's smile faded when Boston kicked out his knees in return, bringing the assailant down and embedding the five pronged death instrument into the man's head.
"If I'm dead, you must be alive," Boston quipped sarcastically and then glanced around to find two men now surrounded him and Nat at the front held his rifle square at him.
