Post by Tab Bachman (sunnybutt) on Jul 26, 2015 20:16:39 GMT -5
Name: Horace Arthur Bachman. "Tab" since time out of mind.
Age/DOB: 76, Nov. 21
Gender: Very male
Class: Middle, property owner in good standing.
Occupation: Proprietor and innkeeper of the Big Black One, an ancient pub, inn and brewery.
Affiliation: Civilian, and law-abiding at that. Has a record of trading with Scavengers and even Vigilante elements. The official opinion is that he's a mostly harmless gentleman with a soft spot for hard-luck cases.
Gene Mods: None to speak of. He finds the technology somewhat frightening.
Appearance: Short and stout. Brown leather for skin and wrinkles like canyons. Hands are scarred and knobbly, with hairy knuckles. NUIP Terminal Jack on his left wrist, just behind his thumb. Face is rustic and beaten. Prominent jaw, bushy eyebrows and mutton chops. Hair is dirty gray and wiry, and everywhere. Wears dirty khaki shorts and tattered work shirts of various drab colors. Adds a white apron white serving at the bar. Mostly white, anyway. Suggestive of white. He is rumored to own a suit which he only wears on the gravest ocassions.
Personality: He has good earth under his feet and can see through a brick wall, if given enough time. Gruff and even sour, seasoned with cynicism that might have been bottled in the Dark Ages. Proud and stubborn. His little pub is his whole life. Willing to do what he has to to keep it, even if it means obeying a government he secretly detests. With all that he has a soft spot for kids and rogues, and is more than happy to trade with Scavengers and Vigilantes.
Background: Tab inherited the Big Black One from his father, who inherited it from his father, going back centuries to a primordial Bachman who built it after coming home from over the sea. The Bachman clan was quiet during the War. All Bachmans can tell which way the wind is blowing, so the clan survived for many years without attracting attention. They have risen and fallen in prosperity and prominence, at one point having three Bachmans in Government, but nowadays have just about died out at last. And so there Tab sits, on his own front porch, a dinosaur from a bygone era, wondering if he will live to see the world change again. In the meantime he keeps busy, brewing his beer and trying to stay on top of wildly fluctuating black-market currency values.
Typically Found: Behind the bar at the Big Black One
Character art is forthcoming, when I can be bothered to finish it, and details will be malleable until he gets final approval.
So, this character is deliberately a sort of prop, lingering in the Big Black One. Feel free to feature him in the background of any RPs set in the pub. I give blanket permission for people to write about him doing bartender-y things.
Age/DOB: 76, Nov. 21
Gender: Very male
Class: Middle, property owner in good standing.
Occupation: Proprietor and innkeeper of the Big Black One, an ancient pub, inn and brewery.
Affiliation: Civilian, and law-abiding at that. Has a record of trading with Scavengers and even Vigilante elements. The official opinion is that he's a mostly harmless gentleman with a soft spot for hard-luck cases.
Gene Mods: None to speak of. He finds the technology somewhat frightening.
Appearance: Short and stout. Brown leather for skin and wrinkles like canyons. Hands are scarred and knobbly, with hairy knuckles. NUIP Terminal Jack on his left wrist, just behind his thumb. Face is rustic and beaten. Prominent jaw, bushy eyebrows and mutton chops. Hair is dirty gray and wiry, and everywhere. Wears dirty khaki shorts and tattered work shirts of various drab colors. Adds a white apron white serving at the bar. Mostly white, anyway. Suggestive of white. He is rumored to own a suit which he only wears on the gravest ocassions.
Personality: He has good earth under his feet and can see through a brick wall, if given enough time. Gruff and even sour, seasoned with cynicism that might have been bottled in the Dark Ages. Proud and stubborn. His little pub is his whole life. Willing to do what he has to to keep it, even if it means obeying a government he secretly detests. With all that he has a soft spot for kids and rogues, and is more than happy to trade with Scavengers and Vigilantes.
Background: Tab inherited the Big Black One from his father, who inherited it from his father, going back centuries to a primordial Bachman who built it after coming home from over the sea. The Bachman clan was quiet during the War. All Bachmans can tell which way the wind is blowing, so the clan survived for many years without attracting attention. They have risen and fallen in prosperity and prominence, at one point having three Bachmans in Government, but nowadays have just about died out at last. And so there Tab sits, on his own front porch, a dinosaur from a bygone era, wondering if he will live to see the world change again. In the meantime he keeps busy, brewing his beer and trying to stay on top of wildly fluctuating black-market currency values.
Typically Found: Behind the bar at the Big Black One
Character art is forthcoming, when I can be bothered to finish it, and details will be malleable until he gets final approval.
So, this character is deliberately a sort of prop, lingering in the Big Black One. Feel free to feature him in the background of any RPs set in the pub. I give blanket permission for people to write about him doing bartender-y things.
