Truth Ricketts, it can be said, was born into a simple world. One father, One mother, living off of the beaten path in the back hills of Utah. Lawrence Ricketts, Truths Father, had moved out west in the midst of the gold rush, and staked his claim. Despite never having found any of the vast deposits of gold that had been promised, he still had managed to set up a good family homestead. He also had fortuned to find himself a wife, a young girl out of Louisiana who he’d met during the trek west.
While Truth was not their first child, she was the first one to survive for more than a few months without succumbing to sickness, as was common for many young children. She’d gotten her name, at least according to her father, because Truth was his favorite word. She was raised in the happiness of self reliance, living off of the land and the skills of her own hands. She picked up hunting around the same time she was old enough to handle a firearm, and while she was abysmal at first, she kept at it, refining her aim and technique.
Most people can’t tell you exactly when the stopped being kids. To most, its just a smooth transition from child to adult, a gradual change which is all but imperceptible. For Truth however, there is no difficulty in picking out the moment she stopped being a child. It was a year after the civil war had begun. Shortly after dusk, one summer evening, a group of Confederate soldiers stormed into the house, intent on seizing it as a new base of operations. When Lawrence tried to resist, he was killed. Truths mother told her to run, and driven by fear as she was, Truth obeyed, sprinting into the darkness and continuing on till she collapsed from exhaustion, her muscles aching and sore.
That was the last night Truth ever saw her mother, or her father. It was the last time she ever thought of herself as a child either. It was a week before she had the nerve to circle back to her home. Arriving, she found it had been burnt to the ground, with no sign of the soldiers or her parents. Whatever had transpired was long since over, and Truth was alone with her thoughts, and her anger.
She wanted justice for what had happened. No, she wanted vengeance. The confederates had torn her entire world apart, and for that, she wanted to return the favor in kind. However, in her desire to do so, she faced a singular problem. She was a young woman. And as such, she was barred from joining up with the union army. A woman had no place on a battlefield, that was what she was told when she attempted to enlist. So, instead of giving up, Truth resolved that she would fight off of the battlefield.
More exactly, she began improving her aim, with the hops that, even if she wasn’t allowed to stand on the front lines of a fight, if she could aim with enough precision and skill, she wouldn’t need
to be present inorder to pick off confederate soldiers. With enough practice, she figured, even while standing more than a mile from where the fighting was taking place, she’d be able to contribute to the fight. Thus, one lone girl, barely a woman, begin her lone campaign against the confederate armies. Never was her involvement suspected. She had the good sense not to make herself into a target. If she’d gone and started picking off Confederate officers in the middle of the night, then they’d have known that there was a sniper around, and come looking for her. Truth may be a crack shot with deadly aim, but she knew full well that a few dozen soldiers would be more than she could handle. Her method was slower, done with care. When the confederate and union sides were engaged, and bullets flying in every direction, then she would take her shot. As both sides unloaded countless rounds at one another, a single stray shot was easily overlooked.
But then, it was over. The war ended, the confederates had lost, and Truth was faced with the sudden weight of her own life, now devoid of a real purpose, stretched out before her, empty and alone. She took up wandering, since the idea of settling down and having a bunch of children didn’t appeal to her. Mercenary work found itself to be to her liking, or at least, to be to her skill set. She never found herself short of income. People with her abilities can easily find those looking to employ them.
And In her travels, Truth has found a bit of peace. While the pain of her past still lingers, the fires of her anger have grown dim with time. The hate no longer burns so brightly. She had seen the war, seen it from the view of an outsider. She’d seen men scream in pain as they were hit, saw the fear in their eyes as they lay bleeding. Everyone had suffered in their own way. Part of that realization came from the people she met in her travels. People who’d fought, some on the Union side, some on the other. People who’d loosed friends and relatives. And Truth saw that some of them had resolved to put it behind them, and move onwards with their lives. Those were the folks who seemed happy, who spoke with optimism and whom had plans for their future. Then there were those who had taken the other road, who let their pasts dwell on their thoughts, never able to let go of the hardships they’d suffered and the pain they had endured. Those were the people who seemed broken. Angry at a world that was unjust, drowning their misery in alcohol and meaningless endeavors. They were small and petty folk.
It was when Truth came to pity one confederate officer who’d lost both his legs to cannon fire, a man who had nothing but a bitter, angry spite for the world, that she herself began to really let go. Whatever had happened in her past, whatever losses she had suffered, she could no longer build her life around them. It was time to let go.
Truth still wanders, but her spirit is no longer plagued with memories. Whatever road stretches before her, she is prepared to greet it, knowing that there is a place in the world for her, a story that needs telling, and that she needs only rise up to meet it. Complications:Skirt:
As a woman, its harder for Truth to earn the same sort of respect for her skills that a man would receive. Slow and steady:
Truth's style is one of careful planning. She takes her time to assess her surroundings, and find the most efficient way to reach a solution. Which is great, when there's enough time. When caught by spur of the moment events, she has trouble adapting quickly, and is prone to making poor choices in the heat of the moment. Killer of Killers:
People who don't show proper respect for life don't deserve to have it themselves, plain and simple. Truth will go out of her way to kill someone who's repeatedly taken the lives of other people without good reason. The same goes for people who, through their own recklessness, put others in danger. Though, she usually is much more lenient with the latter group. Abilities:
4+6+4+8+6+4+10+4 = 46PP
Attack: +3 Melee, +4 Ranged
Unarmed: +3/DC 17 toughness
Knife: +9/DC 20 toughness
Rifle: +10/ DC 21 ToughnessDefenses:
Dodge: +11 (+2 Agl, +9)
Fortitude: +8 (+3 Sta, +5)
Parry: +11 (+3 Fig, +8)
Toughness: +5 (+3 Sta, +2)
Will: +8 (+5 Awe, +3)Skills:
Athletics 3 (+5)
Close Combat (Knife) 6 (+9)
Deception 3 (+5/+7/+15)
Expertise: (Wilderness Survival) 5 (+7)
Insight 2 (+7)
Perception 7 (+12)
Persuasion 3 (+5/+7)
Ranged Combat (Rifle) 6 (+10)
Stealth 6 (+8)
Treatment 3 (+5)Feats:
Improved Critical (Rifle) 4
Precise Attack (Ranged Cover & Concealment) 2
Equipment 15EP wrote:Annabelle (Rifle: Ranged Damage 6; Subtle, Penetrating 3, Precise)(17ep)
AE: Bowie Knife (Knife: Mighty Damage 3)(1ep)
Duster Coat (Protection 2)(2ep)
Extended Range 2)
[2PP]Eagle Eyes (
Extended Vision 2 )
[2PP]Drawing The Bead (
Enhanced Extra 6 (Perception Range) Flaws:
Limited (Ranged Attacks)(-1), Limited (Can't Move)(-1);Feats
Variable descriptor (attacks)Drawbacks
Quirk: Limited to lower of Attack or Extra's rank ))
[2PP]Judge the Range(
[1PP]Curve The Shot(
Immunity (Environmental heat))
[1pp]Totals: Abilities (46) + Defense (25) + Skills (22) + Advantages (15) + Powers (12)= 120 Power Points