AFTERMATH! - Cities in Dust
Moana "Ronin" Daly
Working with Fire and Steel
Moana “Ronin” Daly is a large man of Maori descent whose physique has been honed by long hours over a hot forge. He keeps his shoulder-length black hair in dreadlocks and favors a thin mustache and beard.
The same leather clothing that protects Ronin from heat and debris also does tolerably well against blades and bludgeons in melee. Ronin carries a lever-action rifle in .308 Winchester and wields a modern version of an Aztec macuahuitl that he designed and forged himself.
Skills: Armorer (75/15), Auto Driving (50/10), Beast Riding (30/6), Blacksmithing (63/13). Literacy (44/9), Machining (50/10), Modern Firearm Repair (75/15), Post-Ruin Culture (44/9), Pre-Ruin Culture (22/4), Primitive Firearm Repair (50/10), Stealth (41/8), Survival (37/7), Tech Use (50/10), Weaponsmith (100/20), Off-Hand Dex (_)
Combat Skills: Brawling (79/18), Longsword (108/22), Modern Pistol (50/10), Modern Rifle (100/20)
Weapons: Macuahuitl (2.5L), Savage Model 99 .308 Win (BDG 27, LA, Box 4, Sling Swivels)
Armor: Welding Goggles (PX, AV 5, 2), Welding Jacket (HL, AV 4, 3-9 & 21-28), Gloves (LL, AV 3, 29-30), Leather-Fronted Pants (LL, AV 3 / 2, 10-18), Cup (SY, AV 5, 12), Steel-Toed Work Boots (LL+, AV 3 17-18, AV 6 19-20)
Gear: Survival Kit, “Portable” Forge, Blacksmithing Tools, Firearm Repair Tools, Leather Apron, Scrap Metal, Man-Drawn Flatbed Cart.
Moana Daly was born a few years before the Ruin to an Anglo father and Maori mother. Moana’s parents were killed in an auto accident when he was only a toddler, and the young boy was raised by his paternal aunt and uncle. Aunt Sarah died of the Kabul Shakes in the early days of the Ruin, and Moana’s uncle Merv decided he and the boy would be safer away from the city.
Once things began to settle down, Merv started working as an itinerant blacksmith and tinker. Serving isolated post-Ruin settlements, uncle and nephew worked their way across New South Wales while trying to find a place good enough to call home. They never did.
One of young Moana’s only possessions was an illustrated book on warriors from cultures around the world. He would pour over the pages for hours on end, fascinated by the strange weapons and armor, especially those of the Aztec jaguar knights. He also saw something of himself in the masterless, wandering samurai of ancient Japan and adopted their name, Ronin, as a personal epithet .
Time passed, and Ronin grew up into a giant of a man more skilled with hammer and tongs than his mentor had ever been. Eventually, Uncle Merv caught a bug and went to his reward. While deeply grieved, Ronin also saw this as an opportunity to abandon his wandering and make a true home for himself. The skills and equipment passed on by his uncle could buy Ronin citizenship anywhere in the territory, and now that the old man was gone there was no one pushing for them to keep on the move. Ronan found a nice little village called Woola Bend where he was welcomed with open arms. He settled down at last for what he hoped would be a long, long time.
Fate decreed otherwise. It turned out that the town was ruled by a petty tyrant wearing a sheriff’s badge. Ronin eventually dealt with the corrupt lawdog, but the experience earned him a lot of enmity from the townsfolk.
“The old sheriff used fear to keep everyone in line. Folks were guilty until proven innocent, and the only way to prove your innocence was to give the man exactly what he wanted. And everyone had to pay through the nose for his “protection”. He had his hand in almost everything; the whores, the saloon, the general store. Anyone who wanted to do business in Woola Bend had to do business with the sheriff.
“His big mistake was trying to strong-arm me.
“Every day I watched that man break some kind of law that he was supposed to uphold. Every day I would tell myself that it wasn’t my problem, that I didn’t need to get involved. And every day it got harder and harder to convince myself of this lie. When the sheriff finally got up the nerve to try and get my smithy under his thumb, it was like a dam burst inside of me. I was free to finally let the man know what was on my mind, and I let my fists do the talking for me.
“I could say that I took down the sheriff and his whole operation single-handedly, but the truth is that, like myself, the rest of the town was a powderkeg waiting for a spark to set it off. The ordinary citizens got together and ran off the deputies after I saw to it that their boss was, uh, ‘no longer fit for duty’. Then they went ahead and elected themselves a brand new lawman.
“But the fellow they chose seemed like more of the same to me. I didn’t much care for him and he made it pretty clear the feeling cut both ways. He was plenty popular with the other residents of Woola Bend, however, and so I figured if one of us had to go, I was the obvious candidate.”
Soured on life in Woola Bend, Ronin began to feel the itch to move on. A trader caravan from Pingberra passed through Woola Bend shortly thereafter. One of the guards mentioned that Pingberra had just lost their own master blacksmith to old age. Ronin grilled her a bit about the village and its inhabitants, but he knew from the start that he would take this “Lynn” person up on her offer to join her community.
“When the bald girl came along and offered me a job in another village, I was quick to accept. A new town and a fresh start sounded real good. And if things don’t work out here, I’ll just move on. Blacksmiths will always be in demand.”
Although mighty cautious at first, Ronin grew to like Pingberra. The folks were genuine, the town was well-fortified, and the people running the place actually seemed to have everyone’s best interest at heart. The blacksmith now feels guardedly optimistic that he’s finally found a place where he can grow roots.
Ronin will be interested in good quality scrap metal, parts for firearms, and non-operable but salvageable guns. He will, of course, offer his services in exchange for items he wants.