Personality: Fog is a true product of how life's experiences can change a person completely from the path they seemed to be set on. In her youth she had been trusting, even a little naive, and obedient to a fault. Even after losing most of what she held dear, she kept mostly to the doctrine and didn't even reveal herself to her son through all his school days. Although she's long given up that obedience, many years lived that way have instilled in her an almost inbuilt knee-jerk reaction to listen to authority figures. On the flip side of that coin, authority figures are also the most likely to incite her anger due to a lot of deep-seated fury over the injustices she has seen and personally dealt with in her life from the government.
This inner anger is one of her greatest motivators. She's angry at the world for getting in this state, angry at the government for refusing to change, and angry at the people for blindly obeying like she did, and angry at herself for not changing until it was too late. Although by now this angry doesn't usually show itself on the outside, it does shine through in the choices she makes. She has no moral compunction in encouraging youngsters to follow her previous example and try to lead change through violence and, if faced with it, she would not hesitate to attack again herself. Although most of this rage manifests politically, there is a personal side to it to. She is a mother who lost her son, and that grief never goes away, so she is incredibly protective of her large adoptive family of the Unregistered. Because the government are a threat to them as people, as well as the ideals they stand for, it makes her doubly willing to fight them at all costs.
Another way she has changed radically over the years is the development of her maternal side. When she was a young woman working in munitions, she had no real interest in children and even when she first had Nicholas she accepted that he would go into the Schooling Facilities one day. It took losing nearly all she had to make her realize what was truly important. Then being able to watch, not just her son but hundreds of others' sons and daughters, grow up from toddlers to adults really lit the maternal flame, and it's never extinguished itself.
She may not be a typical old lady - her language can be shocking and coarse, and she can be rough around the edges from her time both on the munitions floor and fighting resistance - but she does enjoy playing up her age when it suits her. She rather enjoys bossing around the youths of the Unregistered and making them fetch and carry for her when her "hip is acting up" or some other such nonsense, and she certainly isn't above a bit of harmless manipulation for her own ends playing up the frail old lady act. Underneath the often blunt exterior is a kind heart, one that's willing to adopt nearly any person in need and look out for them as a mother would. The other fighters in the Unregistered are all her "dears" or "sweethearts", for all that they are weapon-toting and battle ready, and she is just as likely to bake them a cake and kiss their wounds better, as she is to give them weaponry advice.
Fog is a tough old cookie and believes in living life. So even though she has a lot of personal regret and guilt, she doesn't discuss it and she doesn't allow it to color her days. She tries to be cheerful and she's a big believer in life getting better if you grab the bull by the horns and make it so - after all, she lost so much and yet ended up with a family many times larger than the one she had before. She has a strange sense of humor and enjoys saying shocking things for an old lady with a sweet smile on her face, as not much else makes her laugh more than the expressions on the youngsters' faces.
Abilities/Powers: Fog has a robotic hand and a robotic breast, both of which conceal small guns. But she's an old lady, and so her aim and speed are greatly decreased now. She is an expert with all weapons.
Items/Weapons: 1 x spare ammunition for her hand gun. 1 x spare ammunition for her breast gun. 1 x basic first aid kit.
Sample Entry: Edge of the world!
[This might not be an expletive known to other people here, but the idea of falling off the edge of the world back in Winston would have evoked a sense of the fear and shock Fog was expressing now. She has been brought up to speed on Haven already, and is now inspecting the phone and making plans. If she's to survive here then she needs some things.]
This is a sorry state of affairs, isn't it? I hear all the good things are miles away, and an old thing like me can't be making a trek like that. Which pair of strong legs wants to help me out? Don't be shy now, dears.
[Her voice is kindly and there's a twinkle in elderly eyes, that should reel them in! She hopes.]
Sample Entry Two: Walking down the main street of Haven West was a slow process. Her legs weren't what they used to be and she had a pain in her hip that never seemed to properly fade, but she supposed that's what people called getting old. Still, slow her progress might have been, but it was steady and determined. She had her sights set on a goal ahead of her and she wasn't going to stop until she got to the part of the ruins where others had told her they had found various broken tools.
The sun was high in the sky before she had found what she was looking for - a wrench and some pliers. Some of the wiring had come loose in her robotic limbs and she needed to fix it urgently, this town was not a place to be helpless even for a day. Fog settled herself on a broken piece of masonry and began fiddling with the buttons on her shirt. She caught sight of a rare mouse scuttling by and flapped a hand at it.
"Be off with you. Don't look at me like that, a bit of wrinkled flesh isn't going to kill you, but if I don't get this fixed and one of those monsters happens along... well then, we'll both be dead, dear, won't we? So let me be, and scuttle along."
Fog / Original Character / Not reserved / 2-2
This inner anger is one of her greatest motivators. She's angry at the world for getting in this state, angry at the government for refusing to change, and angry at the people for blindly obeying like she did, and angry at herself for not changing until it was too late. Although by now this angry doesn't usually show itself on the outside, it does shine through in the choices she makes. She has no moral compunction in encouraging youngsters to follow her previous example and try to lead change through violence and, if faced with it, she would not hesitate to attack again herself. Although most of this rage manifests politically, there is a personal side to it to. She is a mother who lost her son, and that grief never goes away, so she is incredibly protective of her large adoptive family of the Unregistered. Because the government are a threat to them as people, as well as the ideals they stand for, it makes her doubly willing to fight them at all costs.
Another way she has changed radically over the years is the development of her maternal side. When she was a young woman working in munitions, she had no real interest in children and even when she first had Nicholas she accepted that he would go into the Schooling Facilities one day. It took losing nearly all she had to make her realize what was truly important. Then being able to watch, not just her son but hundreds of others' sons and daughters, grow up from toddlers to adults really lit the maternal flame, and it's never extinguished itself.
She may not be a typical old lady - her language can be shocking and coarse, and she can be rough around the edges from her time both on the munitions floor and fighting resistance - but she does enjoy playing up her age when it suits her. She rather enjoys bossing around the youths of the Unregistered and making them fetch and carry for her when her "hip is acting up" or some other such nonsense, and she certainly isn't above a bit of harmless manipulation for her own ends playing up the frail old lady act. Underneath the often blunt exterior is a kind heart, one that's willing to adopt nearly any person in need and look out for them as a mother would. The other fighters in the Unregistered are all her "dears" or "sweethearts", for all that they are weapon-toting and battle ready, and she is just as likely to bake them a cake and kiss their wounds better, as she is to give them weaponry advice.
Fog is a tough old cookie and believes in living life. So even though she has a lot of personal regret and guilt, she doesn't discuss it and she doesn't allow it to color her days. She tries to be cheerful and she's a big believer in life getting better if you grab the bull by the horns and make it so - after all, she lost so much and yet ended up with a family many times larger than the one she had before. She has a strange sense of humor and enjoys saying shocking things for an old lady with a sweet smile on her face, as not much else makes her laugh more than the expressions on the youngsters' faces.
Abilities/Powers: Fog has a robotic hand and a robotic breast, both of which conceal small guns. But she's an old lady, and so her aim and speed are greatly decreased now. She is an expert with all weapons.
Items/Weapons: 1 x spare ammunition for her hand gun. 1 x spare ammunition for her breast gun. 1 x basic first aid kit.
Sample Entry: Edge of the world!
[This might not be an expletive known to other people here, but the idea of falling off the edge of the world back in Winston would have evoked a sense of the fear and shock Fog was expressing now. She has been brought up to speed on Haven already, and is now inspecting the phone and making plans. If she's to survive here then she needs some things.]
This is a sorry state of affairs, isn't it? I hear all the good things are miles away, and an old thing like me can't be making a trek like that. Which pair of strong legs wants to help me out? Don't be shy now, dears.
[Her voice is kindly and there's a twinkle in elderly eyes, that should reel them in! She hopes.]
Sample Entry Two: Walking down the main street of Haven West was a slow process. Her legs weren't what they used to be and she had a pain in her hip that never seemed to properly fade, but she supposed that's what people called getting old. Still, slow her progress might have been, but it was steady and determined. She had her sights set on a goal ahead of her and she wasn't going to stop until she got to the part of the ruins where others had told her they had found various broken tools.
The sun was high in the sky before she had found what she was looking for - a wrench and some pliers. Some of the wiring had come loose in her robotic limbs and she needed to fix it urgently, this town was not a place to be helpless even for a day. Fog settled herself on a broken piece of masonry and began fiddling with the buttons on her shirt. She caught sight of a rare mouse scuttling by and flapped a hand at it.
"Be off with you. Don't look at me like that, a bit of wrinkled flesh isn't going to kill you, but if I don't get this fixed and one of those monsters happens along... well then, we'll both be dead, dear, won't we? So let me be, and scuttle along."