Lastborn Colt Freeborn

Colt Freeborn

Base Qualities

Strength 1

Speed 1 (Initiative +1)

Stamina 0

Qualities

Gun Expert

Influence (Church of the Reborn)

Mobility

Tall

Weaknesses

Vows (Priest of the Church of the Reborn)

Quirks

Scarred (Over Left Eye & Various Others Over Body)

Secret (Ex-Bounty Hunter)

Combat Skills

Defense +3

Tactics +2

Prima (Ki) +1

Noncombat Skills

Agility 3

Occupation (Priest) 2

Spirituality 3

Street Society 1

Shadowing 2

The Fighting World 2

Thug Thrashing 2

Special Moves

Punishing Barrage

(►P): L2: Reduced Accuracy, Throw (2), Sustained (2) Accuracy: +0 Damage: d8 Colt steps passed the opponent and drives an elbow into the back of their neck dropping them to the floor. Pinning them in place with a foot, he fires a series of shots down into them.

Cross Fire

(▼►P): L3: Ranged (2), Increased Damage (2) Accuracy: +0 Damage: d6 Colt draws both guns up, crossing his arms over each other and firing a brief barrage at his opponent.

Rolling Crack Kick

(▼►K): L3: Anti-Air, Hard to Evade, Increased Damage, Mobility (2 Ranges) Accuracy: +0 Damage: d8+1 Colt jumps into a forward somersault, extending his leg as he reaches the apex of the jump and dropping his heel into the target's shoulder.

Raptor Kick

(▲, ▼►K): L4: Aerial, Increased Damage, Hard to Evade, Knockdown (2) Accuracy: +0 Damage: d8+1 After jumping into the air, Colt kicks downward, slicing directly towards the target, his momentum knocking them to the ground as he kicks passed them.

Bio

Height: 6'7

Weight: 198lbs

'Blood Type: Type A

Style: Righteous Devil Pistol Dueling

Reason to Fight: On A Pilgrimage / Seeking To Reconcile With His Old Way Of Life

Appearance:

Colt doesn't exactly fit the image most people conjure up when they think of a Priest. He's tall and well built, he keeps his black hair long and unkempt, and one of his clear blue eyes has a ragged scar from a knife fight over it. On top of that, most of the time he has a few days of accumulated stubble on his chin making him look somewhat unkempt.

That said though, he does wear the vestments of a traveling priest. A white long coat and mantle traced with gold thread imitate the robes worn by more urban clergy, the collar, mantle, and chest overlayed with a white cross. He also wears white silk gloves with holy sutras inscribed onto them. Under the coat he wears black slacks and black leather jack boots

Uncommon of clergy, however, Colt also carries a pair of black hand cannons with golden accouterments bolted onto the side. Whenever asked how the heck he hides these massive weapons up his coat sleeves, he only gives a knowing smile and responds "Small miracles."

Background:

Colt Freeborn wasn't always a Priest. In his old line of work, he never had much cause to believe in higher powers. As a Bounty Hunter, Justice was a paycheck, not some kind of universal constant. He'd track people through the darkest corners of the Mega Cities, or occasionally into the Bad Lands, and make sure they paid for their crimes in the here and now rather than some kind of after life. He wasn't a nice guy, most of his bounties were turned in dead, and it made him enemies. Enemies who, after he killed them too, he could often collect a bounty on as well. The life of scum didn't mean anything to him, but the money did.

His sister had a rare genetic defect that impeded her neuromuscular system, her body would alternative between spasms and paralysis, and while the Shori Corporation had developed a treatment it was expensive and reduced symptoms rather than curing the disease, which meant Colt was chained to an endless cycle of blood money and smiling lies to his sister. It couldn't persist forever, eventually one of his enemies discovered his comparatively defenseless relation, and the predictable thing happened.

Colt was despondent for a long time, and it came to a head with him standing at the edge of the defensive wall that protected his home city from the predations of the gigantic monsters that wandered the countryside. As he stood there, wind whipping his hair, contemplating the jump, he had a vision. He heard the voice of Prima, and when it comforted him rather than condemning him, he fell to his knees and wept. When even he didn't believe he deserved it, he'd been forgiven. So it was that he joined the Church of the Reborn.

He tried to put his guns behind him. He through himself into a life of charity, of caring, trying to atone for the sins of his previous life. His dedication lead him to not only join the Church, but to spread it's word as a member of the clergy. It wasn't always easy, not everyone wanted to listen to someone tell them their way of life was killing the planet, many had closed minds, and more than a few resorted to violence when their world view was challenged. He endured, until, one night, he had another vision.

A lush valley, filled with green, a sparkling blue waterfall falling from an opening in a mountain side. Birds, and animals, not the mutated monstrosities the wilderness was now filled with. Then he heard a scream that grabbed hold of his heart and nearly pulled it clean out of his chest, the scream he'd heard when he'd been too late to save his sister. All around, the green turned to brown, the birds fell from the trees, he felt dizzy as the air became thin and the water fall dwindled to a trickle. There was a weight in his hands, and when he looked down, he was gripping the familiar shape of his handcannons. When he looked up again, a tremendous metal monstrosity belched toxic smoke in his face...and he drew his handcannon up to fell the thing.

The symbolism was pretty straight forward. It's been years since he'd even touched them, but Colt Freeborn took up his guns once again. Prima needed his held, needed his guns, and he resolved that he would not fail it like he had failed his sister. Embarking on a pilgrimage, he entered into the lifeless wastes, trusting in Prima to guide his footfalls ever forward to where he needed to be.

Win Quote: "Don't worry, I swore these guns would never take another life."

Opening Pose: Taking a moment to cross himself, he throws his hands wide, his handcannons (impossibly) sliding out of his sleeves and into his hands.

Winning Pose: With a flick of his wrists, the cannons slide back into his sleeves and he clasps his hands in front of him. "Prima protects."

Taunt: Crosses himself with the barrel of his right gun, a trail of gunsmoke allowing the symbol to linger.