Motorcycle Helmet

I shall be playing the strong but silent soldier of fortune known only as... ''Motorcycle Helmet''.

He is a giant of a man, standing at 6 ft. 7, who never wears a t-shirt and always wears a motorcycle helmet with a pitch-black visor, completely hiding his face. None have ever witnessed him without it. None living, anyway. 

His body is chiseled as if it were made in the image of a Greek God, by some master sculptor of ancient times... His skin has a golden brown tan, ever exposed to the scorching sun, and is riddled with a hundred scars of all shapes and sizes, each carrying a story, a mystery, of its own. 

He nevers talks, but for the occassional grunt. But Motorcycle Helmet has no need for words, nay: his deeds speak for him.

In the brothels and saloons of the Texas Wasteland, there are rumours a plenty about this man. The whores believe he hails from an exotic land across the sea, and that behind his dark mask lies a face of angelic beauty... That his people know no language but that of love and passion...

Others say he was gruesomely disfigured by a Deathclaw, and that he hides his face in shame...

Some say he is no man at all, but machine... a rogue Synth who defied the will of his very makers in search of his own destiny...

Whatever the truth may be, one thing is certain: Motorcycle Helmet walks his own path, and woe to those who stand against him.