Brahnamin's Characters: Pip

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Pepper John :: Ship's Cook

Attributes

Physical || Mental || Social

Trained Skills

Craft

Fight

Fix

Influence

Know

- Current Events

Move

Sneak

Treat

Trick

Untrained Skills

| Drive | Fly | Focus | Labor | Notice | Operate | Perform | Shoot | Survive | Throw |

Distinctions

Browncoat Quartermaster [Background] It's not glamourous knowing what's what, what's where, how much you have, how much you need, and how much it will cost, but it's steady work.

Hinder: Sometimes a distinction works against you. Roll instead of to gain 1 PP

War Surplus: Your time in the war left you with a detailed headmap of where and how to obtain what's needed on short notice. Spend 1 PP to add Know to your total on any Social + Influence roll to obtain goods or services.

[Highlighted Skills: Fix/Influence/Know]

Professional Bastard [Personality] You're that guy. You know all the best bars, all the worst people, and you know when it's time to do the things polite folk just don't do

Hinder: Sometimes a distinction works against you. Roll instead of to gain 1 PP

Know a Guy: You know folk across the verse and got contacts on nearly every world and moon to pimple the pristine face of the black. Spend 1 PP to create a asset when you call in a shady associate with the skills you need.

[Highlighted Skills: Fight/Sneak/Trick]

Ship's Cook [Role] When things ain't goin smooth, a fillin meal might be all a man has to look forward to.

Hinder: Sometimes a distinction works against you. Roll instead of to gain 1 PP

[Highlighted Skills: Craft/Move/Treat]

Signature Assets

Fine Custom Cutlery You have a fine set of specialty knives for every conceivable job, all wrapped up in a neat leather roll bag for easy carrying.

Chef Coat You might be surprised the places dressin like the help can get you into.

Basic Med Kit You have bandages, skin sealant, pain pills, and other basic first aid supplies.

Diceless Assets

Independent Issued Sidearm Never fired. Only dropped once.

Bio

Homeworld: Londinium

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Ht: 168cm/5'6" || Wt: 73Kg/160Lbs || Age: 45 || Hair: Grey || Skin: Fair

Markings: Knife scars (face/hands/torso) ]] Bullet holes (torso/legs) || "Red Bar" - prison gang tattoo (face)

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Personal Summary

I fought proudly on the side of the Independents for the most reasonable of reasons.

There was this girl.

Things did not go smooth. First mission dirtside, landmine killed her so hard she died to death right there in the mud. Me? By then I was in too deep to get out and nowhere particular to get out to.

That was my first battle, and it lasted for days. Was my last battle as infantry though. Sucked seven bullets outta me after that scrap. Turns out, while I make a respectable showing in back alley dust-ups and friendly barroom brawls, I'm fer shite in a proper battlefield battle with guns and the like.

Spent the rest of the war shipboard on smaller vessels as quartermaster - procuring fuel, ammo, foodstuffs - whatever we had a need for. Got good at bargaining and deals and trading favors.

War's over now, and after half a year in an Alliance POW camp, they cranked out Amnesty and cut me loose.

I'm still fixated on shipboard life, but I don't really fit aboard the sort of vessels that can pocket for an actual quartermaster in peacetime. I'm a bit of a git. I rub folk the wrong way, and ships with the cred for quartermasters tend to stockpile it from serving fancy folk who don't much care for being rubbed wrong.

But everyone - in the black or under the clear blue - gotta eat, so I make my way squeezed into tiny galleys slinging chow for bastards as bastardy as me, and when cookin ain't needed I got other skills what's useful enough to claim my share of our jobs.