Jorge St. Wolf Edit
Race: Human, Wastelander
Faction: Novus Republic
Early Life: Edit
Jorge grew up along the west coast of Kasm with a group of weathered survivors. His sharp nature can be abrasive and even harsh at times, but to those close to him, a gentler, more human side shines through. However, he has an inhuman hatred for raider scum and will show no quarter, but he will not cross certain lines. He will pray with a dying enemy as he was taught back west.
He grew up along the crashing waves and jagged cliffs of the west coast. Home to him was Erin Fortuna, a small settlement along the long dead Pacific Coast Highway. The main settlement consisted of an old Spanish mission nestled on the black rocks overlooking a rusted cargo ship known named the Dublin Queen. The survivors took to farming the scarce land and harvesting what they could from the mighty sea. Over time, they grew strong and the mission turned into a small town, sharing food and support with other survivors in the region.
Jorge learned how to tinker on machines working aboard the larger fishing and whaling vessels that set out from Erin's natural harbor. His maritime odysseys have led him to the north, west, and south.
Like any settlement, raiders would be a problem. It was in defense of Erin that Jorge learned to fight. The raiders arrived expecting to find weak farmers, but found death as the foot of the mission’s fortified walls and armed townsfolk. Other groups in the region tried to flex their might onto Fortuna, but the adamant survivors have maintained independence and strength.
Life in Erin Fortuna was not great or luxurious, but it was life. And in life there is love. Jorge found himself absolutely smitten by his childhood friend, Elena. Over the years, she had grown closer into a beautiful woman with hair like the midnight ocean and glacier blue eyes. They were inseparable as friends and partners. One day, Elena vanished on patrol without a trace. Jorge, hurting and yearning for his best friend, set off to find her.
As he left, his father bequeathed unto him two things: A flag from the old world and a mask anointed in matching colors that had been passed down through his family’s lineage. In his vest, he carried a sketch of her as she stared out over the cold sea one night. With his solitary goal in mind, Jorge stepped out of the gates of Erin Fortuna and into the wastes. His road followed whatever leads he could find.
His Lonesome Road: Edit
His odyssey led him along the coast he knew, through rain and wind. The twisting and turning of the cliffs bogging him down as he moved from settlement to settlement along the coast. With each passing day, Jorge woke up to an cold bed and bleak dawn. He pulled his mask on and pushed on down the coast, praying a break was around the next curve.
After months of fleeting progress and leads, Jorge found his way to the City of Dead Angels and turned to the northeast, following the scant clues and leads into the desert. The trail rushed across the dead and barren land to Vegas, a hellhole in the sand where Jorge found his trail heating up like the unyielding radiation of the sun itself. In Vegas, blood was spilt and guns were drawn, but Jorge got what he needed. Stepping out under the burning sun, Jorge continued across the blistered, god-forsaken desert.
The road wasn't so lonesome anymore. A mutant woman from outside Vegas tagged along. She followed him out across the desolate land, slowly becoming a close friend.
His path grew perilous as monstrosities and demons seemed to crawl from behind every rock and shrub. The land itself turned against him, buffeting him with carving sand, parching heat and frigid cold, but he soldiered on. The desert climbed high into arid mountains with cracked pavement under his feet. Nearing Greyfell, his companion chose to split off and regroup once either one had leads.
It was only days before Jorge came into contact with the Novus Republic, a militaristic sect originating from an echo of the old world. Several soldiers pointed him down the road. Ahead lay the town of Greyfell. Ahead lay his best lead to Elena.
Jorge stepped into Greyfell with the Novus uniform on his back. He reported into to Major Solest and recieved his breifing. Whatever orders he was given, Jorge knew why he'd come all this way and he damn well knew he was going to find what lie at the end of his long and bloody road, be it a shallow grave or a tender embrace.