Name: Max Dunready Gender: Male, Bisexual Age/DOB: 18 / 2015 Origin: Repurposed Earth, New Mexico Family: Among the first of the children actually born in the Black Mesa Refugee City, his parents having met on their way from some now-destroyed Cities. They still live there, with his little sister and brother, who show absolutely no inclination to come live 'in the dirt and antlion-infested hills' like him. Other: It's possible that while he came out to the ranch to be contrary to his folks - he is still a teenager after all - he does truly enjoy this life, and wants to find a girlfriend... or maybe a boyfriend... who will enjoy it with him. Height: 5'9" Weight: 145, muscular, still growing but he'll flesh out strongly rather than get any taller Hair: Dusty dark brown, shaggy and heavy, kept in a pony tail to his mid-back Eyes: deep brown, almost black, narrow, under eyebrows that some claim should be on a mad scientist Appearance: Tan-skinned with hardly any scars or injuries, somehow he grew up without a scratch; found a pair of cowboy boots and never lets them out of his sight, he does actually sleep in them. (Wait til he gets a look at Wilson's snakeskin boots...) Genetic Abilities: None apparent Icarus Processing: No, though he doesn't display any negative genetic tags he wouldn't benefit himself |
Image Credits: Azalea's Dolls 'Elf Boy' maker |
Skills or Profession: Unlike some refugees around the world (and certainly any on the Rookery Earth) Max has had a pretty decent education, and is much brainier than he seems being out on the ranch and all. His philosophical bent usually ranges into logic debates and ethics, he did grow up understanding that the world ended and that guy over there with the creepy eyes and weird habits was responsible for it. Aside from that though, he is a quick study, can read manuals like nobody's business - he's the kind of kid who at age 6 could program a VCR and went on to code computers. He doesn't need to do that, but some day he'll probably get washing machines and hand mixers fixed up for that little restaurant he wants to open... He keeps his hands and body busy with patrols and scaring up spare meat in the form of headcrabs, lizards, goats, or whatever else isn't an Antlion in the Ranch's general vicinity. When the Vorts bring along the next batch of Ants, he's right there in the thick of it, making sure that the netting they've got is properly hooked in, and won't allow them to escape above, and if they do, they have Firefly to chase! | |
Personality: Though he's still young he is rather snarky, and claims he learned it from the best - that is to say Magnusson and other scientists along with many of the adult refugees around the Mesa. That said, his vitriol is usually reserved for people who don't do their job, or who simply can't take the truth for an answer. When he's not remarking on how stuffy some folks can be, or how the lights should be turned off when they're not in use around here, he's a diligent worker - he takes the time to examine things before setting out to do something, and gets it done without a hitch. He is a good 'measure twice cut once' type, and is well respected among many of the more sensible sorts in the Mesa for it. | |
Events or History: For all that respect, his parents don't seem to 'get it'. He doesn't want to sit around waiting for life to move on, he wants to move it. And with the energy he has, the quick mind and the sound body, when the Rookery was announced, he jumped at it. He would have gone to the Ranch anyway, he'd visited it a couple times before the dragons arrived, but now he's sure this is the right place for him. He can hone his skills making traps or snares, as well as keep an eye out for stray Combine and take those out too, he has a collection of Combine pieces-parts from soldiers and Synths alike in his room. | |
Dragon Name: Firefly |
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