Comedians, and twins, Timothy and Marcus Right were loving the life they had chosen. They worked casinos in Vegas, but right now, they were performing at this fat chicks wedding. Usual procedure, fat woman and old guy, she hoping for a bit of cash, he hoping for a bit of ass. They didn't care, they just enjoyed the work.

It was this day the bombs fell.

It was almost a month before they woke up, and the world had completely changed. They barely recognized each other, and didn't recognize where they had awoken.


Two hundred years later....

Marcus was now known as Uncle Right, owner of The Resting Place, irradiated vault turned ghoul casino. Wearing his Hazmat Cowl and his customized vault suit (essentially, he just cut the neck down a bit and added a tie and some armour), He keeps himself rad free, while employing any ghouls that go feral as security or sex slaves. Any ghouls that misbehaved met his odd looking weapon, that he often referred to as being "out of this world".

Tim was now simply known as Left. A mysterious man, perhaps a mercenary, perhaps a bandit, perhaps a legend. Equipped with a "Dead end" sign, and plenty of personalized frag grenades, with the symbol of the god he once loved so dearly, now having forgotten him, using the symbol in spite.

Inventory:
Rebound (addicted)
Nuka cola
Med-X (addicted)
Bottle Caps (6)
Several bottlecap mines
Phsyco
A silenced 10mm Pistol
35 10mm bullets
A rocket souvenir
A briefcase
Two missiles

Equipped:
Workmans coveralls
Regulator duster
Motorcycle goggles
Hat of the People
"Dead End" sign
Holy frag grenades.

Inventory edit: A wanderers outfit instead of workmans coveralls.

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