Full Name: Devon Ray
Biological Origin: Live Birth
Estimated Age: 25
Known Relations: None living
Place of Birth: Squatter Settlement, long since relocated/destroyed
Faction: Uncommited CHOTA
Height: 5' 5" Weight: 121 lbs
Eyes: Sienna Brown Hair: Black
Background: Devon is a One-Lifer (or God-Child as
they are sometimes referred to by city folk), born
in a small squatter community in Sector One. Her
Mother, perpetually strung out and barely able to
carry her baby, was as surprised as the rest of the
community that Devon survived her first few months
of the hell that is life in the Wastes. Devon never knew her Father. She remembers very little about her Mother
who finally gave in to death when Devon was about 4 or 5 years old. Devon was taken in and raised by one of
the community “Elders”, a man known only as Ray (who in his early 40’s and blessed with some mechanical skill
was considered a valuable elder), a man who’s name she would adopt in her young adulthood as a way of
honoring the only person who, in her words, “...ever gave a good goddamn about me”.
Devon’s natural knack for survival complimented by Ray’s guidance in her formative years kept her alive against
all odds. When the community broke up when Devon was about 12, Ray took her with him, wandering from town
to town, never settling down, but staying as long as there was a little work to be had and a little water to spare
for them. When Ray became ill and died when she was about 15, Devon carried his body a quarter mile by
herself and buried him with her bare hands by the side of some old railroad tracks. She took his belt, his boots
and a shirt of his, which she still uses to this day as a rag to wipe down her vehicle and hardware.
Devon likes to think Ray would be proud of her for surviving as long as she has, though she does her best not to
dwell on the life she’s lead and the things she’s done in order to survive since being on her own.
Resourceful, but not quite cunning, ruthless but not quite
heartless, Devon has lived one day at a time her entire
life, even when there was very little to live for. Hope,
human history, self-reflection and contemplation are
frivolities in her world. And though Ray taught her to read
and to write she rarely stretches her above-average wit
beyond reading maps, road signs and tattered instruction
manuals. Devon is not easy to befriend to say the least
and is guarded if not full-on suspicious of just about
everyone she meets, not for any degree of paranoia, rather for her simply dominating survival instincts.
She’s a crack shot with small handguns and is an efficient and remorseless killer in close quarters, able to
defend herself with anything she can get her hands on, be it an empty rifle, lawnmower blade, or a pair of pliars.
While not mechanically inclined by nature, she learned her skills well from Ray and stays in regular practice,
tinkering with and repairing weapons and small engines whenever they are available. Creature comforts are
almost entirely alien to her. She is more comfortable sleeping on hard ground than a mattress and finds that
prepared foods settle less easily in her stomach than simple and crude travel foods. Devon is particularly biased
against strange men, is completely ill at ease around “domesticated” Blight Wolves, and she will never, ever
enter a tunnel alone that isn’t large enough for her to ride her bike through. She has only ever really been close
to one person, her namesake, though Devon Ray has recently come to appreciate the kindness and casual
companionship of a handful of Wastelanders she’s met in Oilville and New Flagstaff.
A typical quote from Devon Ray: “I got two rules. Rule number one... don’t fuck with Rotters. Rule number
two......obey all the rules.”
Full bio in jpg format here .