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Antonio Sundstr??m

"Things ain't so fun from down here..."

0 · 107 views · located in Badlands

a character in “The Wanderers”, as played by rockerr69


Name: Antonio Sundström

Nickname: Tony, Storm

Age: 19

Physical appearance:
Storm is about 6' 4" giving him a few more inches than most other men. He has the body of an athlete, honed from years of hard work and abuse from his handlers. His body is also covered in hundreds of small scars from the same reason, he has two major scars along his abdomen and lower back, that stand out on his slightly browned skin, a smaller scar along his left cheek, and his right arm is missing, and replaced with a highly advanced prosthetic limb. Storm has longish black hair that he sweeps backwards to keep it out of his face, but sometimes locks of it still manage to find their way back onto his forehead. He had dark brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and a square jaw with a messy goatee beginning to grow on it. As a slave he isn't given any proper clothing, but he has managed to keep the rags he owns in good repair, he also has a black duster that he pulled off of one of the crusafiction victims hung up around the legion camp, and managed to reinforce a little with bullet proof plating.


Storm may seem like a stoic wasteland bad-ass to most people, but this is just his distancing tactic. He's lost too much in his life already, and has decided just not to get attached to things any more. Though he says that, he's still a big sufferer of 'big daddy syndrome', he may seem rough and tough, but he just cant resist cute things. He has been known to collect stuff like teddy bears and other plush children's toys, probably since he never had a real childhood. He also loves to read, and sometimes has been known to take apart pre-war tech to see how it works, and treat other slave's injuries.

Cute things,
A sense of justice,

Maltreatment of anyone,
Unnessesary violence


Preferred Weapons:
Stealth based weapons, like sniper rifles and knives.


Strength 1
Perception 1
Endurance 1
Charisma 0
Intelligence 2
Agility 1
Luck 1

- Reinforced Wasteland duster
- .308 Hunting Rifle w/ attached scope (<50> .308 rounds)
- Combat Knife
- Switchblade
- Sparse medical supplies

Base Money Amount: $100


Storm never knew his parents, they were killed by raiders when he was just a baby, he was left, a crying mess, to die in the dirt. Luckily, before he starved to death, a group of wasteland scavengers found him. One of them, Michael Sundström, a mechanic, took pity on him, and decided to bring him up with his newly wed wife Georgia. He traveled with the group for ten years before the group set up a small shanty town over the remains of an old bunker. Just a few months later Georgia died of pneumonia. Storm began helping the scavenger teams clear out collapsed areas of the bunker, claiming peices of pre-war tech as his own so he could take them apart. Michael helped him in these endeavors, teaching him what he could about pre-war tech.
At the age of 13 Storm lost his right arm. He was in the bunker, trying to reach through a partially opened blast door for a piece of old tech when one of the scavengers decided to hook the bunker's power grid up to a generator he had bought off of a passing trader. The door shut on Storm's arm mangling it beyond saving. Soon the scavengers found out that the bunker had been a research center for military robotic and cybernetic research before the war. inside the bunker a stash of pre-war tech was found, and trading routs were set up with nearby settlements. Over time using schematics found in the vault and robotic parts Storm and Michael were able to piece together a mechanical arm for Storm. Sadly this prosperous little settlement would not last long. Their rapid growth in economy did not come with a rapid growth in security. Soon groups of raiders caught wind of the settlement, now named 'Bunker Hill' after the bunker which it gained renown for. The town was attacked by the raiders and most of the inhabitants were slaughtered, the survivors were sold off into slavery. Storm was a survivor, Michael wasn't. Storm had to watch as his guardian was mutilated and killed before his eyes. This event scarred him for life. Storm spent the next five years of his life being sold to all sorts of groups, and being forced to do every imaginable job a slave could do. Until about a year ago a group of researchers with some sort of connection to the brotherhood, who had bought him to research his arm, were attacked and killed by the legion. He was the only survivor, and has since then been forced to live life as a gladiator for the legion's entertainment. After winning a lucky match he has been offered to take the place of the soldier he killed, a man named Silvanus, on a mission to infiltrate and destroy the NCR. He gladly took the opportunity to leave a life as a slave, but is not entirely loyal to the legion, nor anyone else, he just wants a peaceful life in which he can settle down, read books, and repair old-tech.

Posting Sample:
Storm clenched and unclenched his rusting mechanical fist, and watch as it moved jerkily. The old thing was beginning to break down, he would need to steal some parts for it, or lose it for good. A legionary stepped into the gladiatorial cage in which Storm was being held.
"Slave, it's your time. Just feel lucky that you're serving as a warm up for Salararius Silvanus..."
Storm sat there, not responding to the legionary's words.
"Slave!" The legionary cried louder this time, aggravation was slipping into his voice.
Storm tuned his head sharply towards the legionary and glared. He slowly stood up and walked to the exit, as he passed the legionary he muttered, "The name's Sundström..."

Storm entered the arena. There were only a few dozen legionaries watching this time, there probably wasn't much of a crowd because they thought this was a match with a foregone conclusion. Butterflies were fluttering in Storm's stomach, he hadn't given much thought to what he would do until now. His mind was panicky, trying to piece together a plan in the last moment. Across the arena he saw his opponent, a hulk of a man, even taller than Storm, and maybe twice as wide, step into the ring. There was death in his eyes. No throwing this match this time, this was the real deal. Somewhere in the distance a gong sounded. The match had started.

Time seemed to slow down as his opponent whipped out his machete, and bore down on him. Storm could see the individual specks of sand being thrown up by the salararius' sandals. Only a few meters before the man was upon him. Storm dug his toes into the sand, and reached for his combat knife, the only weapon he was allowed in the arena. He could see the bit's of meat stuck between the man's teeth at this point. He was close enough. In a flash Storm swung his back foot forwards flinging up sand into his opponent's face, in the same instant he drew his combat knife, and flung it at his opponent, aiming for the throat. He missed his mark. The knife jammed itself into the man's left shoulder. It must have hit a nerve or something, because the man's entire body spammed for a second before he regained composure, and glared at Storm with demonic fury in his eyes.
'Well shit...' Storm thought, as the salararius shot towards him, swinging his machete in a downwards arc, injured arm trailing uselessly behind him. Storm raised his mechanical arm to block the attack, and only just managed to block the steel blade, sacrificing a large chunk of the components in his arm in exchange for his life. The machete stuck in his prosthetic limb, and unable to free it the salararius resorted to his backup weapon, his fists. The first punch knocked Storm off his feet, and a few feet through the air before he landed in face down in the sand. Storm dizzily tried to pull himself to his feet, but before he could right himself the second barage arrived, smashing into his gut, forcing his pathetic meal form the night before up and out. He knelt there retching for a second before he was kicked into the dirt again. His opponent rolled him over, and knelt on his chest, right arm raised for the final blow.

Storm's eyes lit up with defiance.
'This isn't it. I've survived through much worse. I won't let a freak like this be the end of me!'
"Get the hell offa me!!" Storm screamed, surprisingly loud, bringing his left arm up and slamming it into the knife that was still stuck in the man's shoulder. The man's body went rigid as pain shot through him. Storm grabbed the handle of the machete still stuck in his arm, and unable to free it from his now dead right hand he settled with twisting his arm round, and lifting the mechanical limb along with the weapon. He stabbed at the salararius' throat again, and this time managed to get a hit. Blood spurted from the gash in the man's throat as he fell forwards onto Storm. He lay there, flailing under the body of the hulking salararius' body for a few moment's before some of the legionary's watching leaped into the arena to help the officer. At the first chance Storm shot away from the arena, escaping the legionarys.
'What will they do to me? I've just killed an officer! They'll kill him!' Thought's raced through Storm's head as he hobbled back to the slave tent. Lost in thought, and not paying attention Storm slammed into a passing legionary.
"Ah! S-sorry!" Storm stammered as he pulled himself to his feet. Just his luck, now he was defiantly screwed. He looked up at the legionary, he was young, a bit younger than Storm, and he had a puzzled loo on his face. The stood there for a fem moments, before a look of realization dawned on the legionary's face.
"Are you Antonio? Antonio Sun... Sunder... Sandstorm?" The man asked.
Storm whipped around to run.
"No! Wait! The higher ups wan't to see you! If you don't go then you'll face death!"
Storm stopped confused by the last bit. Didn't he already face death? "Wha... Why?"
"I don't know, but I heard something about a mission. Follow me!" The legionary beckoned for him to follow. Whether it was curiosity of brain damage from the fight he had just been in Storm decided to follow. Just to see what was going on.


So begins...

Antonio Sundstr??m's Story