Ezekiel Smith seemed like an ordinary old man. He lived in a shack in the Northeastern part of Texas. He said he used to be a mercenary, but then took a bullet to the knee. He had children, two sons. His wife died a long time ago, and people said Ezekiel was never same after she died His sons would vist him from time to time, and bring their children along. They loved listening to his stories about the wasteland. They listened eagerly as he told them about the time he fought a pack of wild dogs, and hugged him when he produced presents, usually old books with pre-war fairy tales. Sometimes they'd ask him about the tatoo of an Eagle with the words, God Bless America, underneath it. He said that was old history, and was too boring for young children. He never told them that he got in the summer of 2239, when he was feeling particulary patriotic. That morning his squad had just ambushed some Brotherhood of Steel Paladins. A fierce firefight had ensued, but they had won, mostly due their more advanced armour and weapons, and it was something to be proud of. What had once been pride, was now guilt and self-loathing. He preferred not to think about that time in his life. But at 12:23pm on the 12th March 2283, thoughts about what he had done passed through his head. He pushed them out of his head. The next thing to pass through his head was a 5mm round. He dropped to the floor, having been killed instantly. Blood mixed with sand as he lay there for the next 4 hours before a trader found him. The Eagle had struck again. Ok thats the start of my new RP. Feel Free to sign up.