Brahnamin's Characters: Pip
Pepper John :: Ship's Cook
"You get one complaint; after that you get suppositories."
Attributes ![d6](/images/thumb/b/b8/D6a.png/32px-D6a.png)
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Trained Skills ![d6](/images/thumb/b/b8/D6a.png/32px-D6a.png)
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Untrained Skills ![d4](/images/thumb/2/27/D4a.png/30px-D4a.png)
| Drive | Fly | Focus | Labor | Notice | Operate | Perform | Shoot | Survive | Throw |
Distinctions ![d8](/images/thumb/2/24/D8a.png/32px-D8a.png)
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.
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
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.
[Highlighted Skills: Craft/Move/Treat]
Signature Assets ![d6](/images/thumb/b/b8/D6a.png/32px-D6a.png)
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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.
Diceless Assets ![](/images/thumb/0/0c/D0a.png/32px-D0a.png)
Basic Med Kit You have bandages, skin sealant, pain pills, and other basic first aid supplies.
Independent Issued Sidearm Never fired. Only dropped once.
Bio
Homeworld: Londinium
Ht: 168cm/5'6" || Wt: 73Kg/160Lbs || Hair: Grey || Skin: Fair
Markings: Blade scars on face, hands, and torso. Bullet holes in torso and legs. "Red Bar" - Alliance prison gang tattoo (face).
Personal Summary
I fought proudly on the side of the Independents for the noblest of reasons.
There was this girl.
Landmine killed her so hard she died to death, but by then I was in it too deep to get out. 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.
So I spent most 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. 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.