Edit History

Doc has the intense, driven look of a true Wasteland survivor.  His bright green, slit-pupiled, cat-like eyes observe everything around him, never ceasing their motion.  Those on whom he bestows his direct attention cant fail to notice the pain that seems to lurk deep within his gaze, but, at the same time, his eyes hold boundless compassion as well.

 

Doc wears simple, well cared for clothing made of tough fabrics. Clothing designed for the harsh reality of his lifestyle.  His gear is immaculately well cared for, and his healing supplies are scrupulously clean and ready to use at a moments notice.  It is a rare sight to see Doc without his white leather satchel, with it's prominent red cross stitched on the front, hanging at his side.  It, along with several smaller pouches of herbs, salts, and bits and bobs that he uses for his field chemistry, are nearly the entirety of his kit.  The only other thing of note is the well oiled and cared for shotgun, slung on a tactical friction strap, slung over his back.

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Doc has the intense, driven look of a true Wasteland survivor.  His dark blue eyes observe everything around him, never ceasing their motion.  Those on whom he bestows his direct attention cant fail to notice the pain that seems to lurk deep within his gaze, but, at the same time, his eyes hold boundless compassion as well.

 

Doc wears simple, well cared for clothing made of tough fabrics. Clothing designed for the harsh reality of his lifestyle.  His gear is immaculately well cared for, and his healing supplies are scrupulously clean and ready to use at a moments notice.  It is a rare sight to see Doc without his white leather satchel, with it's prominent red cross stitched on the front, hanging at his side.  It, along with several smaller pouches of herbs, salts, and bits and bobs that he uses for his field chemistry, are nearly the entirety of his kit.  The only other thing of note is the well oiled and cared for shotgun, slung on a tactical friction strap, slung over his back.

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Doc has the intense, driven look of a true Wasteland survivor.  His dark blue eyes observe everything around him, never ceasing their motion.  Those on whom he bestows his direct attention cant fail to notice the pain that seems to lurk deep within his gaze, but, at the same time, his eyes hold boundless compassion as well.

 

Doc wears simple, well cared for clothing made of tough fabrics. Clothing designed for the harsh reality of his lifestyle.  His gear is immaculately well cared for, and his healing supplies are scrupulously clean and ready to use at a moments notice.  It is a rare sight to see Doc without his white leather satchel, with it's prominent red cross stitched on the front, hanging at his side.  It, along with several smaller pouches of herbs, salts, and bits and bobs that he uses for his field chemistry, are nearly the entirety of his kit.  The only other thing of note is the well oiled and cared for shotgun, slung on a tactical friction strap, slung over his back.

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Doc has the intense, driven look of a true Wasteland survivor.  His dark blue eyes observe everything around him, never ceasing their motion.  Those on whom he bestows his direct attention cant fail to notice the pain that seems to lurk deep within his gaze, but, at the same time, his eyes hold boundless compassion as well.

 

Doc wears simple, well cared for clothing made of tough fabrics. Clothing designed for the harsh reality of his lifestyle.  His gear is immaculately well cared for, and his healing supplies are scrupulously clean and ready to use at a moments notice.  It is a rare sight to see Doc without his white leather satchel, with it's prominent red cross stitched on the front, hanging at his side.  It, along with several smaller pouches of herbs, salts, and bits and bobs that he uses for his field chemistry, are nearly the entirety of his kit.  The only other thing of note is the well oiled and cared for shotgun, slung on a tactical friction strap, slung over his back.

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Doc has the intense, driven look of a true Wasteland survivor.  His dark blue eyes observe everything around him, never ceasing their motion.  Those on whom he bestows his direct attention cant fail to notice the pain that seems to lurk deep within his gaze, but, at the same time, his eyes hold boundless compassion as well.

 

Doc wears simple, well cared for clothing made of tough fabrics. Clothing designed for the harsh reality of his lifestyle.  His gear is immaculately well cared for, and his healing supplies are scrupulously clean and ready to use at a moments notice.  It is a rare sight to see Doc without his white leather satchel, with it's prominent red cross stitched on the front, hanging at his side.  It, along with several smaller pouches of herbs, salts, and bits and bobs that he uses for his field chemistry, are nearly the entirety of his kit.  The only other thing of note is the well oiled and cared for shotgun, slung on a tactical friction strap, slung over his back.

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Doc has the intense, driven look of a true Wasteland survivor.  His dark blue eyes observe everything around him, never ceasing their motion.  Those on whom he bestows his direct attention cant fail to notice the pain that seems to lurk deep within his gaze, but, at the same time, his eyes hold boundless compassion as well.

 

Doc wears simple, well cared for clothing made of tough fabrics. Clothing designed for the harsh reality of his lifestyle.  His gear is immaculately well cared for, and his healing supplies are scrupulously clean and ready to use at a moments notice.  It is a rare sight to see Doc without his white leather satchel, with it's prominent red cross stitched on the front, hanging at his side.  It, along with several smaller pouches of herbs, salts, and bits and bobs that he uses for his field chemistry, are nearly the entirety of his kit.  The only other thing of note is the well oiled and cared for shotgun, slung on a tactical friction strap, slung over his back.

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Doc has the intense, driven look of a true Wasteland survivor.  His dark blue eyes observe everything around him, never ceasing their motion.  Those on whom he bestows his direct attention cant fail to notice the pain that seems to lurk deep within his gaze, but, at the same time, his eyes hold boundless compassion as well.

 

Doc wears simple, well cared for clothing made of tough fabrics. Clothing designed for the harsh reality of his lifestyle.  His gear is immaculately well cared for, and his healing supplies are scrupulously clean and ready to use at a moments notice.  It is a rare sight to see Doc without his white leather satchel, with it's prominent red cross stitched on the front, hanging at his side.  It, along with several smaller pouches of herbs, salts, and bits and bobs that he uses for his field chemistry, are nearly the entirety of his kit.  The only other thing of note is the well oiled and cared for shotgun, slung on a tactical friction strap, slung over his back.

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Content

Doc is a fairly laid back man. He is patient, has a generally placid disposition, and is very slow to anger.  Even in battle, he is cold, calculating, and precise, preferring to use the least amount of force necessary to accomplish his goals, and never using lethal force unless absolutely necessary.  This is part and parcel to his time training with the elderly Doc.  One of the first things the old man taught Markus was the Hippocratic Oath, and Markus took the Oath deeply to heart.  To the point where causing unnecessary harm to any sentient being, even the few non-human ones he's encountered over the years, causes the healer intense, debilitating mental trauma.

 

Beyond that, Doc is a fairly happy man.  He enjoys the camaraderie of the Crew, as well as the people that they help on their travels.  When he is working, he is the definition of a kind, compassionate doctor...one who is as truly called to his work as the most devout priest.

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. His tribe owed much of it's success to having access to a large cache of vehicles, as well as a large, underground oil storage facility, as well as a small refinery deep within their territory.  From his early youth, Markus loved vehicles, and was an absolute whiz at driving them.  He was one of the best in his tribe behind the wheel, to the point where, on many of their raids, he never actually fired a shot, instead using his cars size, speed, and mass to commit his share of atrocities.

 

In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

Markus was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay in the scorching sun, under the pile of stinking, slowly rotting bodies, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  To his great surprise, not only was he still alive, but his wounds had been patched with expert care.  Sitting not far away was a thin, elderly man, wrapped in a simple, long coat that had, at one point, probably been white, but that had been stained by dirt, food, and, most recently, a rather copious amount of blood.

 

Markus' savior introduced himself as, simply, 'Doc'.  Over the next several years, the irascible, contentious, genius of a man would share many secrets with Markus, and eventually lead him to don the mantle of 'Doc' himself, as well as fill him with a genuine, burning desire to make the world a better place.

 

It turned out that the original Doc had come across a large cache of BeforeTime medical texts, along with a working computer that contained hours and hours of medical instruction videos.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Markus' life and demanded that the former brigand learn a new trade.  He would 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While he was healing, Markus had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living.  He figured that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized over the years, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

In his time with the old man, who's real name Markus never did learn, the former murderer learned chemistry, physiology, anatomy, and all the other skills to make one a proper BeforeTime doctor.  Eventually, the old doctor declared that Markus was ready.  In a ceremony that was half prayer, half party, and half pure Wastelands hoodoo, the elderly doctor bestowed the title of Doc on his protege.  He gave him a simple mission...serve the people of the Wastes, protect them from the mindless monsters that roamed the land, and live a good life.  And one day, when he found a worthy apprentice, pass on his knowledge.  He gifted Markus with a second tablet computer, onto which he's copied all of his textbooks and videos, as well as some tools of the trade, and sent him on his way.

 

Markus, now known only as Doc, having shed his old life entirely, became a wandering knight of the Wastes, protecting those he came across who needed him, healing their hurts, protecting them from those who would harm them, and, generally, attempting to live up to his promise to atone for his early life of sin and death.

 

Over the years, he's met and saved many people.  And while he's not found someone who he could fully pass on his knowledge to, he did meet the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Throughout their travels, Doc has heard rumors that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.  Unfortunately, it seems that fate may be intervening.  Of late, the rumors have been getting more fresh, and he fears that there may, someday, be a reckoning.

 

He can only pray that such a meeting never comes to pass.

Content

Content

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

The man who would come to be known as 'Doc' was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay under the scorching sun, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  His wounds had been patched with expert care

.

.

.

.

.

NOTES: Savior was elderly wastelands doctor with cache of old medical texts.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Doc's life and demanded that Doc learn his trade and 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While healing, Doc had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living, and that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

Learned doctoring, learned chemistry, physiology, etc, as the doctor had a cache of BeforeTime books and videos, and learned under him for several years.  Eventually, old doctor declared that Doc was ready and sent him out into the world, where, during his travels, he met the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Has heard rumors.over the years that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Content

Content

As a youth, the man who would one day come to be known as 'Doc' was part of a moderate sized tribe of outlaws and brigands. In the brutal world of the wastelands, his tribe, like many others, lived under a very simple rule, 'Survival of the strongest'.  They fought with neighboring tribes, killed their warriors, took their dependents and lands, and, generally, were guilty of most every heinous crime that one can think of.  Finally, after years of suffering under their horrific 'rule', several smaller tribes banded together and led Doc's tribe into an ambush.  They were slaughtered, to a man, and left for the crows.  Well...almost all of them.

 

The man who would come to be known as 'Doc' was grievously wounded in the fight, but the pile of bodies he'd fallen under had managed to save him from the withering gunfire that had taken down the rest of his clan.  How long he lay under the scorching sun, he knew not, but eventually, he woke up in the cool, dry darkness of a desert cave.  His wounds had been patched with expert care

.

.

.

.

.

NOTES: Savior was elderly wastelands doctor with cache of old medical texts.  In 'payment' for saving him, the doctor 'claimed' Doc's life and demanded that Doc learn his trade and 'become as much a savior of the Wastes as his former self had been a destroyer'.  While healing, Doc had a lot of time for introspection (he spent months recovering and recuperating, as he really had very nearly died), and came to realize that his former life wasn't one worthy of living, and that he owed his fellow Wastelanders a life for every one he'd taken.  Considering he literally couldn't remember all the people he'd killed and victimized, he agreed to the elderly doctor's terms and set out to become a savior of the Waste.

 

Learned doctoring, learned chemistry, physiology, etc, as the doctor had a cache of BeforeTime books and videos, and learned under him for several years.  Eventually, old doctor declared that Doc was ready and sent him out into the world, where, during his travels, he met the crew of a great BeforeTime metal beast. A crew who had sworn to uphold virtue and protect their fellow humans from those who would harm them.  It wasn't long before he'd worked his way onto the crew, and he never looked back.  Now he is able to practice his new trade not only on the crew itself, but all those in need that they come into contact with.

 

Has heard rumors.over the years that a few others from his tribe have survived, now more brutal, if possible, but Doc has never cared to investigate, preferring to allow the past to stay buried.