[Characters] The gun slingers and the travelers

[timplausible]

Please copy your application over to this thread (complete with RP sample).

Add to your character with your three Wushu character traits here. I want everyone to follow the suggested structure in the Wushu character rules. That is to say, your three traits should be:
Motivation: Level 5. Why does this character fight? This trait should be specific, such that it might only kick in a climactic scene.
Action!: Level 4. This is your basic fighting trait.
Occupation: Level 3. Doesn't have to strictly be an occupation. Something non-combat that your character is good at.
Weakness: OPTIONAL - If you take a weakness, you may take a second non-combat trait at Level 3.

[Mister N]

Ren Tempo, the Impossible Deadeye Character Name: Ren Tempo Brief Character Overview: Ren is a thin, pale, stick of a young man, covered in lean, wiry muscle. From what he can guess about his age, he would say he's about 20 or so. Ren's dirty blonde hair messily frames his face, while his bright green eyes nearly have to peek through his bangs in order to look around him. Ren doesn't have a particularly large wardrobe, or even really a wardrobe at all, preferring the simple combination of black cargo pants and a lightly-armored brown jacket over a simple green shirt. This is, however, Ren's more "casual" choice of clothes. When he has time to prepare for a fight or assignment, Ren tends to swap out the jacket in favor of an old beaten-up police vest, while covering his face and head in old bandages and a pair of goggles to serve as a mask. Ren is overall a quiet young man, preferring actions over words, and frequently attempting to take a path other than violence to solve his problems. Regardless of how often this fails, and how adept Ren may be at combat, he will still attempt to find another solution. Unless of course, someone else draws first.. Brief Character Background: If you were to ask Ren about his history, he would give you the excuse that he doesn't remember any of it, that he has amnesia, that he doesn't even know how old he really is. This is a lie. Well, mostly a lie anyway... In reality, Ren knows precisely where he came from. Several hundred miles away from the Temple, there existed an underground bunker, one which before the end of the old world, was full of scientists and lab technicians. In this underground safehouse, these men and women of science grew children in vats, then tweaked their genes, all in the effort to create the next generation of soldier. When Ren awoke in this facility, he found himself entirely alone, not a single soul in sight. After breaking out of his containment vat, Ren found no scientists, no signs of any kind of a fight, but many rows of shattered clone vats, all of them empty. Ren only learned where he was after reading nearly every piece of paper in the facility. When he did learn however, Ren took all the supplies he could, and ran. He wandered the wastes for about two years, taking on odd jobs and shooting up plenty of bandits, before he happened upon the temple. Managing to impress it's students with his (un)natural skill with the weapons, Ren was admitted, and was finally relieved to have found a purpose for himself. Studying the rifle, and honing his already impressive abilities, Ren soon became one of the temple's best sharpshooters. His sense for angles of ricochet, bullet drop, and hand-to-hand combat were impeccable, and he used them to the fullest. To this day, only the temple's masters know of Ren's true origins, and even then not all of them. For the moment, they have honored his choice to share his secret with only them. If it were to get out, there's no telling what would happen... Questions: Oh, come on now! Post-Apocalyptic, crazy, action-packed gunslinging is quite possibly the best combination I have ever been made aware of. Frankly, I don't know how you don't have more applicants! Aside from this whole thing seeming right up my particular alley, I'm also fairly interested in this system. It seems fairly rules-light, which is always something I take interest in. So long as things are fast and crazy, I think I'll have plenty of fun. RP Sample: "Hm. This guy just never shuts up... Let me see here..." Ren talked to himself while observing the goings-on in the town below. It helped to steady him a bit, just to hear his own voice. Ren stared down the scope of his rifle at the setting of the village, carefully taking note of every little detail. "Twelve hostages, six thugs, five buldings - empty, and one very self-assured washout... Eh, I've had more exciting work days. These guys just make it too easy." Ren picked over the items that were lying around the gang, taking note of anything particularly sturdy... And then he had it! It was so simple, he still wondered how everyone else couldn't see it the way he did. All he had to do was put the bullet right there. Ren cracked open the breach of his rifle to slide in a single round. It would be more than enough. In a split-second after he pulled the trigger, it would be over, and he was getting bored listening to this "Tiger" person's rantings. Ren lined up the sight with his target, took in a deep breath... And squeezed. "...Bullseye." The bullet left Ren's rifle before beginning it's 300 meter long journey to it's first stop. The first in line was one of the Tiger's men on the far right. The bullet caught in the back of his skull, dragging all kinds of brain matter with it, as it continued onwards to hit something else. A frying pan. One of the village's citizens had been so kind to hang up their pan outside, and it presented a perfect opportunity to begin the mad process of Ren's famous Ricochet shot. The bullet rung off the frying pan, before bouncing to fly through another goon's head, then to 'ting' off a mug that had been placed on top of a barrel. Mug, to head, to lantern, another head, off Tiger's handgun, another goon, and finally, bouncing off a door's hinges. Once the shot had finished it's course, the sound of the weapon firing had just reached Red Tiger, along with the bullet knocking his prized weapon out of his hand. Each of his six men fell over, dead, so perfectly that synchronized dancers couldn't have done it better. His hands shaking, his men dead, and the villagers standing up, Red Tiger still had one trick up his sleeve... "You haven't seen the last of me! Mark my words, I will be back! And with even more men! You will fall!" He was running away... The old, grey haired former master was running away! The temple wouldn't have to give him anything for this one, the genuine laughter from seeing the once great master run away with a wet streak running down his leg would be more than enough payment...

Motivation: 5 - I Must Save This World From Itself
Action: 4 - Built to Destroy
Occupation: 3 - Engineering Perfection / Born Stalker
Weakness: 1 - My Word Is My Bond

[Skep]

Application Character name: Rojeena “Ro” Kolachapati Traits: 5 – "You done wrong by somebody." 4 – Frontier brawler 3 – Songstress 3 – Survivalist 1 – Talk first, draw second Brief character overview: Trained at the Palace Remington since she was a teenager, Rojeena embodies the spirit of “Frontier Justice”, representing the gruff ruggedness of the American West that the surviving tales portray. A land where guns do the talking; flashy flips and a hail of bullets are all well and good, but the true cowboy holds his ground, his draw quick and his aim true. He fights for what is right, because he must. This is the only way Ro knows to keep the peace in her world. Brief character background: Rojeena’s father was the marshall of a quiet farming town in the remains of Nepal. To say he was a bit of a Wild West nut would be an understatement; what little wealth he acquired was wasted on transforming his parlor into a saloon – including, somehow, an authentic American player piano, likely the only one on the continent. She tolerated the often-repeated stories of Billy the Kid and Wyatt Erp well enough, but the piano was the only piece of interest to the young girl, and she taught herself to play it. Though her father frequently voiced his interest in sending her to Palace Remington (a personal dream he thought to fulfill through his daughter), Ro wished only to play and sing, to restore some normalcy to this struggling world. After all, surely music was the way to tame the wild beast. When she was in her mid-teens, the town became a target for a group of outlaws, living in the nearby mountains. They hit the town repeatedly, stealing food and rustling cattle. The townspeople were too afraid to act; only Ro’s father dared stand up to them, and for his efforts, his house was set aflame, and he was mortally wounded. The piano, along with Ro’s ideals, went up in smoke that day. Justice could not be bought so easily; it could only be earned – and she would earn it. The honorable Remingtons couldn’t deny a dying man his last request, and as her father finally breathed his last, her life as a singer ended, and her life as a slinger began. Why does this game interest you? I haven’t played anything beyond D&D 5e, which I enjoy, but it’s difficult to be creative in combat when your best option is to just swing your sword repeatedly. I want to start thinking outside the box, and Wushu seems like a great way to do it. Also, c’mon, Gun-Fu? Yes, please.   "I reckon you have me mistaken for someone else, mister," Rojeena chastises Red Tiger, loudly enough for all onlookers to hear. She straightens the black bowler resting on her head, and a takes a drag from her cigarette. "Luckily for you, I’m in a pretty good mood today, so I tell ya what. I’m going to count to three, and if you and your friends have cleared out of here, I won’t hold this offense against ya. Otherwise, it’ll be my guns seeing ya out." "One." "Two." The Tiger has not moved, but his henchmen have started to slowly close in; Ro takes one last, long draw from her smoke and flicks the filter away. The cigarette butt falls tumbles agonizingly slowly to the ground as Ro inspects her surroundings. The moment it touches the ground, all hell breaks loose. Arrows from rooftops sail at the gunwoman, but the spin to unsling the Winchester rifle from her back is enough to sidestep the shots. Smoke fills the air as an attacker is felled from the bar’s roof; the rifle’s lever-action clacks back and forth, and another bowman topples off of a house on the other side of the street. An attempt to replace the spent rounds is quickly foiled as a ninja grabs Ro from behind; but the grappler’s grip is weakened as the butt of the rifle finds his gut. The gun’s wooden stock again hits its mark, this time against an unguarded nose, and the ninja falls to the dusty ground. The gunslinger’s free hand draws one of the Colt single-action army revolvers strapped to her belt, and two more ninjas are dropped as they close in. Another volley of arrows drives the woman behind a stack of wooden crates on the side of the street; dust kicks up as she slides into cover. Her bowler on the rifle’s barrel, poking around the crate, fools one bowman into revealing his position, and the Colt finishes him cleanly. Two well-placed throwing stars pin her black jacket to the thin wood – one of the goons has flanked her – but she slips easily out of the coat, and dashes into the tavern. She vaults the bar just as the lone ninja enters, and though it’s a shame to waste good whiskey, breaking a bottle over one’s head turns out to be very effective. There's no sound, no movement, after the shattering glass echos out the tavern door. The town is eerily silent with anticipation. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out from above; another dead archer slides off of a building, ripping shingles off the roof. The now-familiar clack-clack of the Winchester's lever reveals the cowgirl's elevated sniping position on top of the nearby bank. Another shot signals the end of the final bowman on the eastern row; Ro looks to her right, eyeing the few remaining archers, conveniently line up for her. A fruitless volley is aimed at her, but when the arrows reach their destination, only the Winchester remains. At a full run now, revolvers akimbo, Ro jumps down from the higher rooftop to a lower one, landing in a smooth roll; another archer is downed before she's back on her feet. She vaults off a chimney to evade another bolt, and the offending attacker is dead before her leather boots touch shingles again. The final gap is, surely, far too great a distance to leap; yet, a stray rope hangs from the town's water tower here, activating the release valve. Ro carves a graceful arc through the air as she swings across – dumping water on the dusty ground in the process – and a punch, packed with the power of her momentum, sees the last foe smashing through a balcony on his way to the earth below. Her feet kick up dust as she drops into the center of the one-street town again. She saunters casually toward Red Tiger and his remaining bodyguards, replacing the rounds in one of her revolvers before holstering it. Seeing the woman stow her weapons, the bodyguards draw their katanas and close in at speed; but Ro does not act immediately. Instead, she removes a bottle of rum she pocketed, and takes a slow swig before replacing the cork. Then, without warning, she tosses the bottle at the assailants. They easily move to avoid the projectile, but Ro has her Colt drawn again, and fires from the hip. Not at the ninjas – at the booze. A red-hot tracer round shatters the glass and ignites the rum; the flaming liquid pours over the bodyguards, who are sent running and screaming. Realizing that his greater numbers have not prevailed, Red Tiger decides to settle the matter himself, and draws his own weapons for the upcoming showdown. At least, he tries; instead, he crashes to the dirt, his feet suddenly bound together – it seems no showdown is happening this day. Rojeena takes her time recovering her jacket to cover the whiskey stains on her sage-and-navy paisley vest. As she gathers up her lasso’s rope, the man struggles to free himself first, then tries to scurry away, but his efforts are ultimately no good – she has him hog-tied within seconds. "Now, I gave you a chance to walk away," she says, slicing the extra rope off with a large bowie knife. "But it seems you’re not so good at listening. So, I’m figuring a day baking in the sands is gonna do you some good, make you re-think some things."

[Sirviantis]

Application Character name: Morgan "Phoenix" Guaire Brief character overview: Morgan isn't a gunslinger, he knows how to shoot a gun but can't accurately pull off gunfighting and acrobatics at the same time. What he does know is acrobatics and martial arts, these he combined with his later acquired skill in firebreathing to become quite a devastating opponent. Brief character background, including: When did the character join the temple? What brought the character to the temple, and why was he/she admitted? What did the character do before joining the temple? Morgan joined the temple of smith and wesson at a young age (±10 years), he needed a way to defend himself from the dangers of this post-apocalyptic world like raiders. He excelled at the close combat training and acrobatics but never really could manage to shoot his guns accurately while preforming his feats of acrobatics. Therefore he was kicked out into the streets after a few years, his master couldn't teach him any more. Morgan wasn't convinced he would be able to defend himself so he headed to ironstone, a relatively safe settlement, or so it was advertised. In reality it was a hive of scum, pickpockets were more common than flies and those who were wary enough not to get stolen got cheated in the cities many gambling rigs. Ofcourse there was entertainment too, women were sold, alcohol to drink, there was music, noise compared to what standards people used to have but standards tended to fade. Quite some street performers as well, most noticably to Morgan, fire-eaters, the moment he saw them perform their tricks he was spellbound. In several months he learned the skill, all while racking up a gambling debt. Eventually the rigs bruisers came for him while Morgan was working on his show, he found out that day that fire is an effective tool in dispatching adversaries. Questions for you: Why does this game interest you? I feel like this game would allow me to pull off some cool stunts, I'm down for that. RP Sample:   Morgan just stood there at first, lighter in one hand and a bottle in the other, anyone who knew the man's recent past would know to clear out, Red tiger didn't know and Morgan chose to give him a chance to back out "You're right, my gun-fu is weak, but it's not my only trick, clear out and you may live to regret this day." Morgan took a big swig from his bottle, as the liquid inside was drained out the bottle was revealed to be transparent. Morgan heard a warning shot and knew red tiger didn't fear him, something he'd have to correct. Morgan pulled two smaller bottles his messenger bag before dropping it on the floor and seemingly stumbling to the right. As he did he turned, lit the match duct taped to the side of one of them with his sweather and threw it at one of the goons behind him. His outfit easily caught fire. When the Phoenix regained his footing he dashed around the burning minion and jumped towards the one behind him, propelling his knee into the mans face as he did. The man collapsed as the nasal bone was projected into the poor sods brain. Morgan continued spinning, caught the corpse and flung it at the third ruffian who couldn't stay afoot after the impact. Expecting more gunfire the Phoenix dodged by sliding to the right bringing lighting another matchstick and bringing it up to his face as he did. The dodge was wise as five bullets hit near where morgan was standing, one allmost hitting his leg as he moved but the man was untouched. After carefully selecting to eliminate the last standing ruffian Morgan spit his mouth's contents towards the man, lighting him on fire as well. Morgan felt an impact on his right side, the danger the bullet posed was mitigated by the kevlar he wore under his sweather but he did get angry. In reaction morgan threw his second molotov towards the duffelbag he had left where he started the fight, a small fiery explosion occured as the fluid inside the small bottle made contact with the smoldering match. A the bag caught fire and so did it's contents creating a veritable sea of flames between the Red Tiger and Morgan. The fire-eater slid back into the last ruffian who was still alive and hit him with his elbow before picking up the gun the man had dropped on impact with the carcass from earlier. Morgan knew better than to have both his hands filled with no source of fire in them and stuffed the revolver under his belt before spitting towards the wall of fire the master was hiding behind. He couldn't see his adversaries location so he turned his head as he forced out the fluid which caught fire as it flew, ignited by the bigger wall of fire between the two. 4 minions dead or knocked out, Red tiger likely killed only left the snipers on the rooftops to be taken care of. He didn't know the locations of the snipers so all he could do was speak " your boss is dead guys, you can go home now." This angered one of the snipers, as Morgan had expected another shot was let loose towards him and this time he saw where it came from, a single handpull on the trigger of the stolen gun took care of the sniper. "Anyone else?" Morgan exclaimed, only to be met with silence, this night was over. Traits: 5 - Self-preservation 4 - Soaring phoenix style 3 - Chemistry / "I might know a guy" 1 - Afraid of water

[The Rat Queen]

Wren Character Name: Leigh “Wren” Harper Brief Character Overview:   Making her way across the landscape, Wren makes her living in the world by buying, selling, and trading. With a sharp eye for detail and a nose for a deal, she provides people on her route with what they need. Most of the time, even the local bandits will leave her alone, as they need her route to continue so they can get supplies when the raiding isn’t going so good. The occasional desperate rogue is usually referred to her Complaint Department, a pair of Saiga-12K automatic shotguns with pistol grips. She’s also skilled in krav maga, preferring its brutal, but efficient, style for dealing with hostiles. Occasionally, Wren will supplement her income with a high-stakes poker game, though most of her customers can’t afford to risk gambling. Brief Character Background:   Leigh Harper grew up with her parents’ nomadic group, wandering from settlement to settlement. It was her father who taught her the most about trading, reading people, sizing up settlements, appraising goods. Usually, meetings with other groups was fairly benign, with the group either making some decent trades or simply being told to go away. Sometimes, the encounters were not so harmless… One such encounter with a roving bandit group left most of her friends and family dead, though the few surviving bandits had run off as well. Gathering as many items as they could carry, the stragglers made their way to the nearest settlement, a fortified town that bandits couldn’t defeat. At the gate, they were nearly turned away, despite desperate pleas for mercy or exchange. Finally, one man peeked over the wall, saying “Leave the children and all those goods…we’ll take both, if you want.” Leigh was one of a handful of kids who’d survived, and they were allowed in, waving goodbye to their former tribe as they entered the gate. Once inside, the children were instructed in the largely militant way of life. Leigh was instructed in krav maga, learning how to quickly and ruthlessly end confrontations. There were few guns available, so firearms instruction was limited. Eventually, she grew old enough, and had learned enough, to hear the call of her nomadic people’s ways calling to her. Despite her new family’s protests, she gathered what she’d earned through the years and secured a cart and mule for her use. Her trade began slow, and she nearly either starved, or was killed, several times as she built up her clients and inventory. Overcoming setbacks such as dead animals, stolen cargo, wounds, and sickness, she determinedly forged ahead, keeping her route intact. One of her clients, a nearby monastery, became impressed with her dedication and survivability. They called her “Wren”, citing the bird as a token of good luck when it was spotted. Leigh loved the name, and took it as her own, even with other people. During one trade session, in which she’d managed to secure some much-needed medical supplies for the monastery, the monks assented to payment with a pair of Saiga-12Ks. She worked the weapons into her krav maga technique, becoming far more deadly than before, though she still preferred non-violent solutions…a dead customer was no longer a repeat customer, after all. RP Sample:   Wren smiled as she maneuvered her cart down the path away from the monastery. Not my most profitable stop, she thought while patting Carlos the Mule’s muzzle comfortingly, but the monks there are always so nice! It got lonely, sometimes, on her route, and she always enjoyed chatting once business was conducted. She appreciated grateful customers, as well…the monks were tough negotiators, but they never insulted her or got upset. She was simply providing a service, which benefitted everyone. "Hold up there, girlie!" called a voice from behind. Glancing back, she saw three men moving toward her. The one in the middle, the tallest of the three, carried a revolver tucked in his waistband. The one on his left, the brawniest of the three, carried a sledgehammer over his shoulder. The one on the other side, by far the ugliest of the three, wielded a bat with protrusions of metal bursting forth from it. Wren tensed, but kept a smile on her face. Just take it easy, she thought, if they were organized, they would’ve set up an ambush ahead of me, instead of running up behind. Hoping to salvage the encounter, she smiled and waved, "Gentlemen! Need any supplies? Can I interest you in a trade?" She shifted slightly to put herself in a more defensible position, keeping her easy manner visible. As the men caught up, the one with the pistol leered at her, "Trade? How about we just take what we want?" Sledgehammer loomed over her to the side, scowling, "And we ain’t no gentlemen, neither!" Batboy fairly giggled, reaching up to fondle her hair, "But we are interested in what you got…why don’t ya…?" Wren became a blur of motion, stepping to place Batboy between herself and Pistol, slamming the flat of her hand into his throat while drawing one of her Saigas. As the man’s eyes bulged, Sledgehammer cursed and raised his weapon, preparing to strike, as Pistol drew his gun and stepped back and out, trying to draw a bead. Wren struck the back of Batboy’s knee with her own, causing his legs to buckle, and rolled him with her toward Sledge. Already in full swing, Sledge tried unsuccessfully to check his downward arc, and brought the hammer down on Batboy with a crunch. Wren pivoted, bringing the butt of her shotgun’s pistol grip against the bridge of Sledge’s nose as he was extended, spraying blood everywhere. Using him as cover, she drew the other shotgun and brought it around toward Pistol. A deafening BOOM stunned Sledge and Batboy, and Pistol was blown backward, his return shot going wild. Wren’s foot lashed out, catching Sledge from behind in the side of the shin, snapping his leg like a twig. As he cried out and collapsed, Wren jabbed the other shotgun forward, spearing Batboy in the forehead and snapping his head back. BOOM! Another pull of the trigger left Batboy headless in the dirt. Sledge looked up from his prone position, clutching his broken leg, to see Wren standing over him, both smoking barrels pointed at him, her eyebrow arched questioningly. Wincing, Sledge held a hand up, indicating surrender, "Please…I’m sorry, we were just…just…" Wren snorted, holstering her guns. Picking up the men’s weapons, she tossed them onto the cart, and rummaged around. Pulling out a couple of detached chair legs and a bandage, she turned back to him with a smirk, "Just…agreeing that these weapons are fair trade for medical supplies so you can limp your ass outta here?" She grinned, adding, "Need help setting that bone?" Why does this game interest you?: “…we're using a mechanics-lite system called Wushu that lends itself to over-the-top action sequences; it's really easy to learn. Theme is "Gun-Fu" in a post-apocalyptic setting.” Um…over-the-top post-apocalyptic Gun-Fu? And you ask why this interests me?? Traits: 5 – “Everybody’s looking for a deal.” 4 – Brutally effective 3 – Trader 3 – Gambler 1 – Soft spot for kids