General Information:Name: Jasim Kasado
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Height: 190cm
Weight: 92kg
Attributes:Strength: 4
Constitution: 4
Dexterity: 5
Agility: 2
Willpower: 3
Intelligence: 3
Charisma: 2
Sight: 7
Hearing: 3
Skills:Weapon skills:Rifles: 7
Handguns: 5
Daggers: 6Other:Boxing: 5Horse Riding: 4Special Talents and traits:Basic navigation using the stars.
Use of highly flammable oil for escapes among other purposes, but never to burn a person alive.
Animal skinning and preparation.
Tracking.
English is not his first language, therefore he doesn't speak it very well.
Mistrustful of anybody affiliated with the oil industry
Equipment:Weapons:1
M-5 Saive Semi-Automatic Rifle.1
Gunsche C99 "Broomhandle" Pistol.1
Khanjar Dagger.Protective GearReinforced Waistcoat
Other:Cross-Chest Belt for Ammo Satchel and Dagger Sheath.
Highly Flammable Oil in a Canteen.
Newsboy Cap.
Teeth-Cleaning Twigs.
Appearance:Of average, yet fit, build with olive skin and dark brown eyes that have aged from what they've seen far more than the face they inhabit. Jasim usually wears regular pants along with his black waistcoat and newsboy cap. He usually only wears his cross-chest belt and takes his rifle with him when going out to battle, but always carries his pistol wherever he goes. He has short raven-black hair, a small stubble on his chin, and a scar running down the left side of his face from a knife wound.
Personality: If one word were to be used describe Jasim's personality, it would be this: Unremarkable. He's a quiet man, speaking when prompted to and attempting to be somewhat social with those that he meets. But his equivalently limited language skills, troubled past, and feelings of alienation towards most people that he meets makes it difficult for him to actually make any friends; so he doesn't.
Background:Jasim was born in a far away land, free of the mechanical diesel contraptions and frenzied life of those living in modern society. He and his father, the leader of a prosperous tribe which settled an oasis valley rich in life and water, spent their days hunting, travelling, and occasionally fending off the odd attack from rival tribes. It was a quiet life, an enjoyable one, but one day all of that changed. Men from far away, with pale white greedy faces ordered the tribe to clear out of the valley; for it was rich in the near-useless rock oil (to them) that the foreigners seemed to desire so much for some reason. Jasim's father, leader of the Kasado tribe, refused of course; sending the men packing and throwing away their offers of wealth and 'relocation'. This was their land, and nobody was going to take them from it. But Jasim knew this wasn't the end of their troubles, on the contrary; the hardship had only just begun.
He was awoken a few weeks later in the dead of night by the sound of gunfire; a sound he was used to hearing from hunting with his father, but in far greater volume than he was used to. He quickly left his tent, but a scene of pure terror awaited him; the entire valley was burning. Trees, tents, and even people were being torched to death by a raging inferno while gunfire rained from higher up in the valley. The foreigners had lit the entire valley on fire while attacking in full force, making short work of the musket-equipped tribesmen with their superior weapons and tactics.
He found his father, burnt to near-death; yet still fighting on against the invaders with his musket. And so Jasim joined him, taking up a musket and joining the last line of defence against the pale-faces. Soon, the remaining tribesmen dwindled down one by one; until it was only him and his father left fighting the enemy. Most of the tribe had either been killed, captured, or had escaped; so there was nothing left to do now but either die, or surrender. Jasim's father gave him his dagger, one that had been forged for him from the finest metals and blacksmith in the area, and spoke of how proud he was of Jasim; before an enemy bullet went straight through his eye-socket and out the back of his skull. Jasim was distraught with grief, but managed to drag his father's body down into a secret cellar while the foreigners took control of the valley for themselves. He buried the body, resolving to take revenge against the foreigners for what they had done; for the sake of his tribe and his father.
But when he finally reached the land of the interlopers after a long journey, he found himself being welcome with open arms by compatriots from his land. He didn't even have the time to enact his revenge, nor plot any plans; for his new brothers were insistent on making him feel welcome. His brothers mostly both ran and worked for a boxing gym, and he found himself working there soon as well; dealing with foreigners on a daily basis and learning to accept them not as greedy warmongers, but fellow men that weren't so different from he himself. Life was good once more, all things considered, and he began to think that perhaps this was how the rest of his life was going to play out.
But one day, after a few years of getting into the routine, the boxing gym was broken into in the evening; when he and his brothers were working to clean up the place. They fought against the men, taking down a few of them, but were eventually all outnumbered and beaten to the floor. The brutes destroyed the gym, stealing all the money, vandalising its walls, and taking any valuable equipment they could. But it was only when they began to insult and repeatedly beat him and his countrymen that he learned the true motive of the attack; it wasn't burglary-motivated, it was racially-motivated. They didn't think that Jasim and his brothers belonged here in this country, and were quite physical in their dislike as they beat the group to a bloody pulp.
One of the men, the leader, cut a quick slash up Jasim's face; giving him the scar he still wears till today. But they took their time slowly with his brothers, slicing their fingers, appendages, and eventually just disembowelling them, breaking their necks, and stabbing them multiple times. Soon, Jasim was the only one remaining; but finally, after
two entire hours of the loud mindless violence, the police arrived at the scene; forcing the criminals to flee. Jasim, incredibly distraught from what he had experienced yet still trusting the police; told them of everything that had occurred, before berating them for not coming here sooner.
They interrupted Jasim in the middle of his rant, ordering him to clear the area while they investigated; they weren't interested in hearing his story at all. Jasim got extremely angry, shouting at the police officers while pointing to the corpses of his now-dead brothers. This was the cue for the police to arrest Jasim on charges of interfering with police work, throwing him into jail for three entire months before releasing him.
When he was finally released, he found, to his great shock and horror, that the incident was referred to as an unsolved case; that despite the mountain of evidence, posted death threats, and brags from the gang who did it; the police weren't going to do anything about it. He later found that the gang who did it was simply too powerful, entirely out of the cowardly police's reach; so they simply ignore them. This infuriated Jasim beyond belief, and he finally came to a realization: This nation was filled with good, kind-hearted people. But those with power, those tycoons and criminals who circumvent the flawed system and get away with it scot-free; they were the ones who had caused all his suffering,
they were the ones who needed to be killed.
And so he rode the path of carnage, taking up a rifle, a pistol, and his dagger once more. He would henceforth be a vigilante, the scourge of criminals and police alike; but also the saviour of the common people. But he knew deep down that he wasn't doing this for them; on the contrary, he was doing this for one reason and one reason only: Revenge. So he targeted all those that preyed on the weak, the fat-cats and gang bosses who had caused all the death and destruction in his life; and he would not stop until the day he died.