Name: Gills Giles
Fighting Style: Rifleman
(Two handed)Slot 1:Varmit Rifle
(Single handed)Slot 2:Switch Blade
(Single handed)Slot 3:
Armor: Mercenary Outfit +1 Def, +3 Agility
Agility:5 ( 8 )
Slot 1: 20 .223 caliber rounds
Slot 2: x5 Stimpacks
Signature Move: 20/20- Gills throws his sunglasses to the ground, exposing his eyes to the light(sun or moonlight) which increases his sight guaranteeing a hit and also increasing his crit range by one - 11-12 on his next shot from a two-handed weapon.
Perk1: Fight or Fight- When the number of enemies outnumbers allies Gills gains bonus damage while using two -handed weapons(+1 Dmg)
Perk 2: False Bravado- When the number of allies outnumbers enemies Gills stands tall and takes charge (+1 on attack roles for the party)
Flaw: Photo-Phobia- After Gills uses his Signature move the sun becomes to much for him to take. (1 dmg taken the 1st turn after signature is used) (-2 sight and all sight modifiers are removed for 3 turns)
Quote: "Death is the end for everyone, and your end is near."
"Death is the end" , He said as he spun the magnum around his finger and paced the weathered earth before his feet. "Death is the end" , The words rolled of his tongue like drool down his chin, slick and moist with hours of practice before a broken mirror. "Death is the end and yours my friend, yours..." he paused and turned on his heels towards the crumpled figure on the ground covered in dirt, dust, and blood. He pointed his gun, loose in his hands, at his prey. He snarled in excitement and chuckled. "Yours my friend is near....". It came out barely a whisper and his eyes lost their focus as he pondered his words."NAY!! YOUR END IS HERE" He threw his hands in the air and hopped from one foot to the other, dancing in a circle. He was enjoying this, the thrill of the hunt was over and victory was laying before him, waiting for him to do what he promised. Waiting to embrace the other side. He looked up to the sky once more and laughed. Victory he thought.
He chuckled and turned to face his destiny once more. Starting from the shattered shoes, he looked upon his victory. Up...Up...More....MORE. Hes mind screamed out to him, hemorrhaging against his skull. The bloody ripped pants...The duster covered in dirt and tinted crimson from the wound in his preys abdomen. And his arm shakily raising, holding a gun. A gun he supposedly kicked away minutes before. He quickly surveyed the area in front of him and there in the dust, there in the dust it was. Immediately he realized he's mistake. His shoulders slumped as his eyes darted back towards the man, no longer his prey, no longer his prize, no longer hes victory. But Gills Giles, The man with the upper hand.
"Now listen here Gills...." the shot rang out mid-sentence, the bullet finding its home between his eyes. Instantly the man standing before Gills collapsed to the ground in a heap. Gills hand fell to his side and his body fell back to the ground, his left hand no longer able to support his weight. His body was broken and will was shattered. But Gills was still alive and his advisory dead. He would live to see nightfall, if he was lucky. Too tired to move, to weak to blink, all Gills could do was stare at the sky that laid unreachable before him. Stare into the sun that hung there. And stare he did,the sun baking his eyes like a fish out of water. It was seconds into minutes into hours into days into a lifetime on the hot desert floor. Gill stared. He felt it all in 5 seconds. He contemplated nothing during his time, experienced no enlightenment. Only lived as much as his mundane existence could let him live, which surprisingly wasn't much.
And on the fifth day, when lady luck finally dropped a coin into his empty well, a caravan just happened to pass near him, he was saved by a lady who blocked the sun above him. Gills greeted her with a toothy grin, his lips cracking and bleeding with the rudimentary movement of his lips. And finally he closed his eyes and slept.