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Realistic or Modern T-Minus Never Character Roster
- Thread starter Vudukudu
- Start date
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- Tags
- apocalypse
- Created at
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Vudukudu
Farseer to the Warsong Clan
T-Minus Never CS Page:
Vudukudu
Farseer to the Warsong Clan
Da Rules:
1. No Last-Assholes-Left-Alive - humans are social creatures, and the only way to survive for this long in the end of days is to cooperate. We're not interested in super edgy isolationists who have been hacking it on their own for eight years and are only just coming out of isolation for whatever reason.
2. If both me and my co-GM buddy
queendilettante
like your app, welcome to the Mall. Relatedly, we reserve the right to request edits to characters or reject them. We're aiming to build a well-rounded group that brings some different things to the table, so we promise its not personal if you don't make it in.
3. We will be accepting some as-of-yet undetermined ratio of DHQS/NUSA characters, but we'd like the bulk of the group to be from the Mall.
On to the good stuff. Format it any way you like, but know we don't give bonus points for pretty bbcode.
Name:
Gender:
Age:
Appearance (Describe away if you're not the pictures sort. Some details that are nice to have below
Pictures (optional, please no anime.)
Personality
Skills
Equipment (nothing insane, just the kind of stuff their character normally has on their person)
Faction (Mall/New USA)
Backstory
1. No Last-Assholes-Left-Alive - humans are social creatures, and the only way to survive for this long in the end of days is to cooperate. We're not interested in super edgy isolationists who have been hacking it on their own for eight years and are only just coming out of isolation for whatever reason.
2. If both me and my co-GM buddy
queendilettante
like your app, welcome to the Mall. Relatedly, we reserve the right to request edits to characters or reject them. We're aiming to build a well-rounded group that brings some different things to the table, so we promise its not personal if you don't make it in.3. We will be accepting some as-of-yet undetermined ratio of DHQS/NUSA characters, but we'd like the bulk of the group to be from the Mall.
On to the good stuff. Format it any way you like, but know we don't give bonus points for pretty bbcode.
Name:
Gender:
Age:
Appearance (Describe away if you're not the pictures sort. Some details that are nice to have below
- Weight:
- Height:
- Build:
- Skin Color:
- Hair Color:
- Eye Color:
- Outfits/Normal Clothing:
Pictures (optional, please no anime.)
Personality
- Traits:
- Quirks
Skills
Equipment (nothing insane, just the kind of stuff their character normally has on their person)
Faction (Mall/New USA)
Backstory
Last edited:
queendilettante
🤍 Heart Problems 🤍
Name: Sybille Rayne
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Birthday: October 29th, 2001
Appearance:
Personality:
Skills:
Equipment:
Faction: The Mall. She’s been at the mall for a little less than a year, but has reached a leadership position within the Security Department for her work ethic combined with her useful mechanic and marksman skills.
Marital/Familial Status: Married to a woman who was formerly a chef in New York named Claire. Six years after the crash, when the settlement they were in fell to a combination of the infected and bandits, Sybille and Claire were separated by the different groups pushing to escape in opposing directions. Sybille has been hopping from settlement to settlement trying to find her wife.
Backstory:
Sybille was born to French immigrants in Brooklyn, New York. She grew up working as a mechanic with her father who owned a body shop that Sybille and her family lived above. She was a natural at working on cars and ended up expanding to any kind of machinery she could find. Her father’s shop got a reputation as a one stop shop for any mechanical problems almost entirely due to Sybille’s skill with her tools. Sybille was able to enjoy a very comfortable upbringing thanks to her and her father’s work.
Growing up and through school, Sybille didn’t have very many friends. The only friend she maintained up through middle school was a girl named Rachel. When the 8th grade dance rolled around, Sybille, who had a crush on Rachel, asked her to go but was rejected. Sybille was embarrassed and ended up withdrawing from most social circles. Until her high school graduation, Sybille had no friends that were close enough to hang out after school.
By the time Sybille was finishing high school, she had developed her skills as a mechanic and machine expert so thoroughly that college seemed completely useless to her, but her parents had put money aside for her to go and get the experience, so she went to NYU for fun to study film. She didn’t really care about any of her classes, but learning about film was fun enough to justify her getting the stereotypical “college experience.” To do something very different from what she was used to, Sybille signed up for lessons operating weapons at a local firing range. She got the hang of using handguns really quickly and started using shotguns at the range. It was just something to do to pass the time, but Sybille enjoyed it.
During that first semester of her freshman year, Sybille met a woman named Claire who worked as a chef at a restaurant in Manhattan. Sybille learned Claire’s shifts and would try and make a point of going to the restaurant to chat with her once Sybille was the last one eating for the night. Nearing the end of the semester and the start of winter break, Sybille asked Claire to go to coffee, and was surprised when Claire responded with, “What took so long?” The two got together and dated for about a year.
Sybille and Claire got an apartment together during Sybille’s sophomore year of college. Just a few months in, Claire proposed and they became engaged. In early spring of 2021, the two were married and they left to drive for California to enjoy their 3 month honeymoon. Despite being a student, Sybille was madly in love with her new wife. Everything went swimmingly for the two. A couple of years later, spring of 2023, Sybille and Claire decided to relive the same honeymoon and left for the same trip after the economic crash that winter. They figured that, since work was tight anyway, they’d take a break from their responsibilities for a while and use some of their savings to travel.
On the way to this honeymoon-renewed, the Crash began. Reports of an infection and zombie-esque creatures filled the news cycle. On I-80 between Cedar Rapids and Des Moines, Sybille and Claire were stopped by the US military and almost executed for fear of infection before escaping when the soldier thought one of the infected was coming up behind him. The two continued toward Des Moines to figure out what was happening, but the highway had been destroyed not too far from the city line. The two left their car to investigate when they saw a small husky puppy in the rubble of the highway. Sybille grabbed the dog and the three of them kept moving toward the city to try and find a group of people. They found a small group that they joined up with temporarily, but they couldn’t settle anywhere for long.
For the next six years, Sybille, Claire, and their (now older) pup, Santa, were on the run as one survivor enclave fell after the next. If not for Sybille’s uncanny ability with cars, many of the escapes the three pulled would have failed. The longest the three lasted at an enclave was for 6 months. It was a fairly large settlement in the ruins of St Joseph about 50 miles north of Kansas City, Missouri. One night, like in every other settlement, the wall was breached and all of the people who called themselves Sybille’s friend that morning tried to get her killed as a distraction for the infected. Sybille, Claire, and Santa were escaping when the settlement's leaders, a band of former US military, decided to lead an escape of two different groups. Sybille followed with Santa, but Claire got pulled east by the other half of the crowd. Sybille tried to fight but the soldier said he’d shoot her in the foot as bait if she didn’t keep moving. Sybille and Santa ran south with the group for 3 days before they met up with a settlement closer to the field formerly known as Kansas City. Sybille almost immediately set out with Santa in search of Claire, who she could only hope was still alive.
For two more years, Sybille and Santa covered every inch of settlement across the ruins of Iowa and as much of Missouri as Sybille could access. However, for the past year, Sybille has been working with the largest group of survivors she’s ever seen in a Mall in Columbia, MO. The Mall has more resources at their disposal than any group Sybille has run into post-Crash, and so she’s relied on it as a homebase for her to continue her search for Claire. Her skills as a mechanic and her marksmanship were much needed in The Mall, so she quickly rose through the ranks of the Security Department. She’s recently become a leader within the department and is soon to be tasked with an important escort/reconnaissance mission with the recently reformed US government.
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Birthday: October 29th, 2001
Appearance:
- Weight: 150 lbs
- Height: 5’7
- Build: Athletic
- Skin Color: Pink undertone pale with some sun damage and freckles.
- Hair Color: Dyed Pink from Sybille’s naturally very dark hair. Her hair is about shoulder length and wavy, but often pulled back with a bandana.
- Eye Color: Gray/Blue
- Outfits/Normal Clothing: Sybille has a few outfits on rotation for different occasions. Casually, she often wears one of her many leather jackets with a tank top or crop top t shirt underneath, cargo pants or jeans, old brown leather combat boots, and a pair of black sunglasses. While working as a mechanic, she puts her hair back in a black bandana, ditches the jacket for a stained white tank top, uses the oldest pair of pants that she can find, and sticks to her normal combat boots. When she’s traveling and/or working as a bodyguard, she mixes and matches her casual and mechanic clothing. She always keeps the bandana and adds a shotgun and pistol to her back and waist, respectively. She also always wears her wedding ring on her left hand.
- Sybille has a scar on the left side of her upper lip.
- Her eyebrows are a shade darker than her already dark brown natural hair color.
- Sybille has a tattooed cherry blossom branch on her left thigh, a tattoo of a crow on the back of her right shoulder, and a tattoo of a cartoon turtle on the back of her right hand that matches one her wife already had on her hip.
Personality:
- Traits
- Motivated. Sybille always commits herself fully to whatever she wants/needs to do.
- Kind Hearted. Sybille likes to help people and she does her best to make the terrible circumstances of the world more manageable.
- It’s easy for Sybille to get lost in her thoughts while she’s doing anything monotonous.
- Headstrong. Sybille tends to resist attempts to change her mind or course of action; especially so when coming from those with less knowledge on a given subject than her.
- Workaholic. If Sybille isn’t actively moving to track her wife, she’s working as a mechanic, running escort missions, or helping civilians with menial tasks. She refuses to give herself a break or let herself slow down.
- Afraid of commitment. Following being separated from her wife, Sybille has struggled to open up to anyone she’s met. She maintains kind superficiality in most relationships, but fears caring for someone she’s going to lose again.
- Peculiarities
- Sybille fidgets by pulling on her earlobe when she’s uncomfortable or distracted.
- Sybille was born in Brooklyn and, whenever she hears someone else from New York, she’ll subconsciously slip back into her accent.
- Mental State
- Sybille struggles with nightmares about being unable to find her wife, Claire, or that Claire has already been bitten and turned.
- Sybille suffers from panic attacks when her situation resembles the circumstances of the start of the Crash.
- Description
- Sybille does whatever she can to be a good person in the circumstances of the world she’s found herself in, but struggles to open up to people and form genuine connections. She always commits herself fully to whatever task she’s presented with, but follows through to a fault, often to the detriment of her own physical and mental health. She can be in her own head at times and very stubborn when pushed on a matter of her expertise, but rarely means offense to those offering their (usually unsolicited) advice. Like for everyone, the Crash was a traumatizing experience, and Sybille suffers from a panic disorder related to the death and destruction she witnessed as the world ended.
Skills:
- Sybille is left handed. She’s modded her weapons and tools to be more easily used with her left hand (but at the cost of ease of use for anyone needing to borrow them).
- Sybille worked with her father as a mechanic pre-Crash and has honed those skills over time. She’s reliable when working on pretty much any machinery she gets her hands on.
- Sybille is excellent with shotguns and most handguns, but has very little experience wielding other types of firearms.
- Sybille has little practice with blades, though she keeps a utility knife and a small combat blade on her person for emergencies.
- Sybille’s parents immigrated to NYC before she was born from France, so she speaks French as a second native language.
- Sybille grew up in the city, so her skills in navigating nature are lacking, but her skills in navigating urban sprawls are excellent.
- Sybille is very good with dogs.
Equipment:
- Sybille has a husky named Santa that she rescued as a puppy during the Crash. She likes to do jobs with him and has combat armor fitted for him.
- Modified double barrel shotgun with a strap and a bandolier for ammo.
- Modified pistol with a holster.
- Utility knife.
- Combat knife with thigh holster.
- Welding goggles and sunglasses (she rotates between them, depending on the work).
- Bullet proof vest.
- Backpack and a big thermos strapped to the side of it.
- While on missions, Sybille usually carries enough food rations to last a week.
- Flashlight.
- Small portable radio.
Faction: The Mall. She’s been at the mall for a little less than a year, but has reached a leadership position within the Security Department for her work ethic combined with her useful mechanic and marksman skills.
Marital/Familial Status: Married to a woman who was formerly a chef in New York named Claire. Six years after the crash, when the settlement they were in fell to a combination of the infected and bandits, Sybille and Claire were separated by the different groups pushing to escape in opposing directions. Sybille has been hopping from settlement to settlement trying to find her wife.
Backstory:
Sybille was born to French immigrants in Brooklyn, New York. She grew up working as a mechanic with her father who owned a body shop that Sybille and her family lived above. She was a natural at working on cars and ended up expanding to any kind of machinery she could find. Her father’s shop got a reputation as a one stop shop for any mechanical problems almost entirely due to Sybille’s skill with her tools. Sybille was able to enjoy a very comfortable upbringing thanks to her and her father’s work.
Growing up and through school, Sybille didn’t have very many friends. The only friend she maintained up through middle school was a girl named Rachel. When the 8th grade dance rolled around, Sybille, who had a crush on Rachel, asked her to go but was rejected. Sybille was embarrassed and ended up withdrawing from most social circles. Until her high school graduation, Sybille had no friends that were close enough to hang out after school.
By the time Sybille was finishing high school, she had developed her skills as a mechanic and machine expert so thoroughly that college seemed completely useless to her, but her parents had put money aside for her to go and get the experience, so she went to NYU for fun to study film. She didn’t really care about any of her classes, but learning about film was fun enough to justify her getting the stereotypical “college experience.” To do something very different from what she was used to, Sybille signed up for lessons operating weapons at a local firing range. She got the hang of using handguns really quickly and started using shotguns at the range. It was just something to do to pass the time, but Sybille enjoyed it.
During that first semester of her freshman year, Sybille met a woman named Claire who worked as a chef at a restaurant in Manhattan. Sybille learned Claire’s shifts and would try and make a point of going to the restaurant to chat with her once Sybille was the last one eating for the night. Nearing the end of the semester and the start of winter break, Sybille asked Claire to go to coffee, and was surprised when Claire responded with, “What took so long?” The two got together and dated for about a year.
Sybille and Claire got an apartment together during Sybille’s sophomore year of college. Just a few months in, Claire proposed and they became engaged. In early spring of 2021, the two were married and they left to drive for California to enjoy their 3 month honeymoon. Despite being a student, Sybille was madly in love with her new wife. Everything went swimmingly for the two. A couple of years later, spring of 2023, Sybille and Claire decided to relive the same honeymoon and left for the same trip after the economic crash that winter. They figured that, since work was tight anyway, they’d take a break from their responsibilities for a while and use some of their savings to travel.
On the way to this honeymoon-renewed, the Crash began. Reports of an infection and zombie-esque creatures filled the news cycle. On I-80 between Cedar Rapids and Des Moines, Sybille and Claire were stopped by the US military and almost executed for fear of infection before escaping when the soldier thought one of the infected was coming up behind him. The two continued toward Des Moines to figure out what was happening, but the highway had been destroyed not too far from the city line. The two left their car to investigate when they saw a small husky puppy in the rubble of the highway. Sybille grabbed the dog and the three of them kept moving toward the city to try and find a group of people. They found a small group that they joined up with temporarily, but they couldn’t settle anywhere for long.
For the next six years, Sybille, Claire, and their (now older) pup, Santa, were on the run as one survivor enclave fell after the next. If not for Sybille’s uncanny ability with cars, many of the escapes the three pulled would have failed. The longest the three lasted at an enclave was for 6 months. It was a fairly large settlement in the ruins of St Joseph about 50 miles north of Kansas City, Missouri. One night, like in every other settlement, the wall was breached and all of the people who called themselves Sybille’s friend that morning tried to get her killed as a distraction for the infected. Sybille, Claire, and Santa were escaping when the settlement's leaders, a band of former US military, decided to lead an escape of two different groups. Sybille followed with Santa, but Claire got pulled east by the other half of the crowd. Sybille tried to fight but the soldier said he’d shoot her in the foot as bait if she didn’t keep moving. Sybille and Santa ran south with the group for 3 days before they met up with a settlement closer to the field formerly known as Kansas City. Sybille almost immediately set out with Santa in search of Claire, who she could only hope was still alive.
For two more years, Sybille and Santa covered every inch of settlement across the ruins of Iowa and as much of Missouri as Sybille could access. However, for the past year, Sybille has been working with the largest group of survivors she’s ever seen in a Mall in Columbia, MO. The Mall has more resources at their disposal than any group Sybille has run into post-Crash, and so she’s relied on it as a homebase for her to continue her search for Claire. Her skills as a mechanic and her marksmanship were much needed in The Mall, so she quickly rose through the ranks of the Security Department. She’s recently become a leader within the department and is soon to be tasked with an important escort/reconnaissance mission with the recently reformed US government.
Last edited:
Vudukudu
Farseer to the Warsong Clan
Name: Ryan McCarthy
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Appearance:
Personality: Ryan isn't exactly the image that comes to mind when someone says the words "DHQS Agent" and that's specifically why he was picked for this work. He is outwardly warm, personable, and humorous, all of which hides the reasons he's a favorite among his supervisors - he is capable of being utterly ruthless when the situation demands it and he is more than capable of "graveyard math," the catch-all term for making the decisions, logistical or otherwise, that are meant to kill the least number of people. That said, he's not over-zealously committed to NUSA - they're just the ones who are keeping his wife and sister housed, fed, and safe from the nightmares outside, and he's happy to do what they want if they keep up their end of the deal. Anyone who gets in the way of that arrangement is a threat, and everyone knows how DHQS deals with threats.
Skills: Recon, Basic Marksmanship, Enclave Management, Basic Survival Competency, Mission Planning.
Equipment: Standard Issue DHQS Agent Gear, including:
Backstory: Ryan grew up in a sleepy suburb outside Chicago where he excelled in school and sports. He was later accepted to Northwestern University, where he got a degree in Statistics, and then enrolled at the University of Chicago where he finished a Masters in Disaster Response Management just in time for the Crash. It turned out that the literal apocalypse is a better teacher than you can find in any classroom, and he managed to get out of the city by stealing a boat and avoiding the clogged roads. After some time spent hopelessly adrift on Lake Michigan before being rescued and finding himself in one of the hellish refugee camps that sprung up in the early days - never enough food to go around, no protection, constant danger of someone with a bite sneaking in and going Vector. He knew he had to get out, so he did by lying about his age and work experience to the security detail, swearing up and down that he was a CIA intelligence analyst and that if they could get him to any safe zone he'd get them out. When a helicopter came and got him out, he never looked back - the entire camp, numbering some 2,000, was later overwhelmed by a Vector outbreak a few days later, guards included.
Naturally it didn't take long for his ruse to be discovered and Ryan found himself conscripted when a military judge told him to put on the uniform or take a bullet. Ryan proved, at the very least, capable of guarding the walls of a fort, and it got him a shoddy bit of military training, plus rations. When the DHQS was formally born, he made sure he got folded into it, exaggerating his educational background to insure he would get a cushy office job to sit out the apocalypse. DHQS had another thing in mind - why not take advantage of that recent military experience to use him as a field agent, and his disaster management coursework as a foundation for establishing contact and managing civilian-led survivor enclaves? He spent time gaining a rudimentary knowledge of everything a small society might need to survive - farming basics, electricity and solar panel installation, safe water management, the works, and was sent out with a small team to help educate survivor communities enough to sustain themselves while NUSA got its act together. What he didn't tell any of them was that the DHQS had specifically selected communities located in areas where they would draw most of the dead, helping them survive so they could suffer longer and keep the zombies focused on them instead of NUSA bases.
During a medical leave after getting shot in the thigh by a trigger-happy enclave guard, he met Hannah Blakely, who had finished a nursing program just before the Crash, and the two got married on a drunken whim after a few weeks, figuring they'd both be dead soon anyway. To their mutual surprise, they've survived six years of happy marriage, or at least what passes for it in the apocalypse, with a small apartment that passes for luxury in Reclaimed Boston. Of course, he's rarely around given his work, but all the same, its better to know there's someone out there who's thinking of you.
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Appearance:
- Weight: 180 pounds
- Height: 6’2
- Build: Lean-fit, thanks to being one of the privileged few with access to DHQS rations.
- Skin Color: White, well-tanned.
- Hair Color: Brown. Kept trimmed extremely close, to prevent having any hair to grab onto.
- Eye Color: Green.
- Outfits/Normal Clothing: DHQS uniform, consisting of a pair of black tear-resistant pants, a turtleneck shirt made from the same fabric, and a light kevlar vest. For field work, also has a combat helmet with an attached face mask and a plexiglass visor to prevent contaminants from splashing his eyes, mouth, or nose. Camo-print jacket for inclement weather.
Personality: Ryan isn't exactly the image that comes to mind when someone says the words "DHQS Agent" and that's specifically why he was picked for this work. He is outwardly warm, personable, and humorous, all of which hides the reasons he's a favorite among his supervisors - he is capable of being utterly ruthless when the situation demands it and he is more than capable of "graveyard math," the catch-all term for making the decisions, logistical or otherwise, that are meant to kill the least number of people. That said, he's not over-zealously committed to NUSA - they're just the ones who are keeping his wife and sister housed, fed, and safe from the nightmares outside, and he's happy to do what they want if they keep up their end of the deal. Anyone who gets in the way of that arrangement is a threat, and everyone knows how DHQS deals with threats.
- Traits: Purposeful, self-disciplined, and with snake-like cunning.
- Peculiarities: Files his nails with religious dedication.
Skills: Recon, Basic Marksmanship, Enclave Management, Basic Survival Competency, Mission Planning.
Equipment: Standard Issue DHQS Agent Gear, including:
- T13 Rifle: Designed to operate in messy environments while requiring low maintenance, this reliable rifle was designed by DHQS to be cheap, easy to make, effective, and semi-automatic to reduce panic-firing among the troops. Chambered in .22 LR, but comes with a kit to modify the weapon for 5.56, taking advantage of the two most popular rifle calibers in America before the Crash. Comes with a bayonet and a detachable green laser sight.
- M1911 Pistol: The DHQS hasn’t bothered designating a standard issue pistol and instead just hands out whatever it can. Ryan traded for some good old American iron that he keeps on him at all times.
- DHQS Badge, providing him with unimpeded legal authority to act in NUSA interests beyond the Mississippi.
- DHQS-issue E-tool: You’d be surprised how often a shovel is useful.
- DHQS-issue Comms Device: Essentially a handheld radio connected to Data Bank’s network, providing stable communications to his handlers.
- DHQS-issue Laptop: Connected to the Data Bank, can be charged by a hand crank or connected to most power-generation devices with the right cable converter. Password protected and encrypted.
Backstory: Ryan grew up in a sleepy suburb outside Chicago where he excelled in school and sports. He was later accepted to Northwestern University, where he got a degree in Statistics, and then enrolled at the University of Chicago where he finished a Masters in Disaster Response Management just in time for the Crash. It turned out that the literal apocalypse is a better teacher than you can find in any classroom, and he managed to get out of the city by stealing a boat and avoiding the clogged roads. After some time spent hopelessly adrift on Lake Michigan before being rescued and finding himself in one of the hellish refugee camps that sprung up in the early days - never enough food to go around, no protection, constant danger of someone with a bite sneaking in and going Vector. He knew he had to get out, so he did by lying about his age and work experience to the security detail, swearing up and down that he was a CIA intelligence analyst and that if they could get him to any safe zone he'd get them out. When a helicopter came and got him out, he never looked back - the entire camp, numbering some 2,000, was later overwhelmed by a Vector outbreak a few days later, guards included.
Naturally it didn't take long for his ruse to be discovered and Ryan found himself conscripted when a military judge told him to put on the uniform or take a bullet. Ryan proved, at the very least, capable of guarding the walls of a fort, and it got him a shoddy bit of military training, plus rations. When the DHQS was formally born, he made sure he got folded into it, exaggerating his educational background to insure he would get a cushy office job to sit out the apocalypse. DHQS had another thing in mind - why not take advantage of that recent military experience to use him as a field agent, and his disaster management coursework as a foundation for establishing contact and managing civilian-led survivor enclaves? He spent time gaining a rudimentary knowledge of everything a small society might need to survive - farming basics, electricity and solar panel installation, safe water management, the works, and was sent out with a small team to help educate survivor communities enough to sustain themselves while NUSA got its act together. What he didn't tell any of them was that the DHQS had specifically selected communities located in areas where they would draw most of the dead, helping them survive so they could suffer longer and keep the zombies focused on them instead of NUSA bases.
During a medical leave after getting shot in the thigh by a trigger-happy enclave guard, he met Hannah Blakely, who had finished a nursing program just before the Crash, and the two got married on a drunken whim after a few weeks, figuring they'd both be dead soon anyway. To their mutual surprise, they've survived six years of happy marriage, or at least what passes for it in the apocalypse, with a small apartment that passes for luxury in Reclaimed Boston. Of course, he's rarely around given his work, but all the same, its better to know there's someone out there who's thinking of you.
Last edited:
Togy
The Fashionable Crab
Name: Teddy B. Callahan
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Appearance:
Pictures:
His look, pre-apocalypse, before he was the last of the Canadians.
Post-apocalypse: A mix-match between both. There is a lot of red flannel.
Personality: An odd personality, Teddy is just about the last person you'd expect to survive the apocalypse. With easy smiles and a go-lucky attitude, Teddy sees every forest fire as warmth for the night and every flood as a refreshing drink. Endless optimism, endless cheerfulness, and cares ungiven. Point is, Teddy's an unusually cheerful man for one who's spent eight years in the apocalypse. In part, that's because he genuinely enjoys the apocalypse. Before everything, he had no living family or friends and was laid off from his dream job. Now, he gets to play the role of wandering gunslinger as he learns photography and how to play the guitar. In his mind, the apocalypse was a complete improvement over his old life.
For all his cheerfulness, though, Teddy's not an idiot. He's not trusting, casually cynical, and doubtful of intentions. He hides these traits under his clearer traits like his optimism, so it's not easy to discern those traits from him at first glance. He's not prideful enough to take offense to just about anything either, so he lets just about anything slide. Just don't let the insults get TOO personal.
Skills:
Faction: Mercenary for hire in the mall. Less of a mercenary, really, and more of a good samaritan people go to when they need help no one else can or is willing to provide. He started showing up around the area three years back, coming and going every now and then. Deterred by the promise of an easy life and safety from the dead, Teddy rarely spends more than a week at the mall before leaving for months at a time.
Backstory: Born in Calgary, Alberta, Teddy lived out in the boonies for most of his life. His childhood home was located in the northernmost reaches of Alberta, somewhat isolated even from the small community he lived near a mile away. Naturally, when it takes you a half-hour to drive to school every day, you're a bit isolated from your age group. Teddy didn't mind, though. He was a naturally sociable child, and his younger siblings satisfied his need for company, so he didn't really feel like he was missing out. With two caring but busy parents, Teddy, eventually, had to accept his role in helping raise his four younger siblings. Even if his parents weren't distracted with their careers, he doubted they'd be able to effectively handle five kids.
By the time he graduated community college a year ago, Teddy was a married man and figured it was time to move off. Go back to Calgary, get a good job, find what he was good at. That was his game plan. None of it played out like that. Quickly becoming estranged from his family due to the physical distance between them and the irregularity of his calls, Teddy failed again and again to find a decent job.
Fast forward five years, and Teddy's life quickly built into a downward spire. He was stuck in a dead-end job with no real prospective future or dreams, his younger sister and father were both suffering from cancer, his mom was beginning to have heart problems, and his wife was filing for divorce.
A year after that, at the age of twenty-eight, Teddy is a divorced man just laid-off from his job who recently buried the last of his family after they died less than a month ago. With no real plan or any idea what he's even doing with his life, he moves back into his childhood home as he tries to salvage what's left of his life.
Two weeks later, the world ended. Teddy chose to stick it out in his family home, awaiting whatever happened with open arms as he got blackout drunk for what would presumably be the last few days of his life. He figured it was an alright way to go, all things considered. Then the Americans nuked Canada to hell and back, his home burned down after a horde barged in, and Teddy was, surprisingly, still alive. Figuring that his only two options were die in Canada or die in America, Teddy reluctantly chose America. He'd always wanted to visit the states, so he might as well die there. Teddy didn't even bother checking if his ex-wife survived-given how she was still living in Calgary by the time the bombs dropped, he didn't really see how they'd have survived.
Dodging irradiated hotspots, hordes, and freezing temperatures all the way to the East Coast, Teddy stole a sailing yacht and crashed rather than landed somewhere along the shore of New York three months after everything went down. Slipping under the radar, Teddy found safety in the NUSA.
But Teddy had gotten a taste of the apocalypse. The danger, the excitement, the adrenaline, he found himself actually missing it. Teddy hadn't really been good at just about anything before that point, but this? Surviving, fighting the living dead, narrowly dodging death at every corner, well, he was really good at that. One of the first things he'd ever been good at, really.
So, that's why he willingly crossed the Mississippi river to the inhospitable zombie-ridden-hellscape that was the Western part of the United States. With not a single regret, Teddy began touring the West for his own amusement, taking up photography as he honed his survival skills. At some point down the line, he started getting friendly with communities. He'd do the things nobody else was suicidal enough to do and they'd pay him. A very simple relationship. He'd be asked to retrieve X medicine from this zombie-infested town, or Y person from where they're trapped on all sides by a horde, and all he'd ask for in return was for a handful of bullets for his rifle or some food and water to last a day or two. Really, it was always less about the payment and more of the fun.
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Appearance:
- Weight: 140 LB
- Height: 5'6
- Build: Lean
- Skin Color: Fair
- Hair Color: Blonde
- Eye Color: Blue
- Outfits/Normal Clothing: Tie-dyed shirts he made himself, flannels shirts, jackets either worn or wrapped around his waist, jeans, combat boots, black gloves, and aviator shades. His usual clothes are worn under his armor, save for his vest which is worn under his shirt.
Pictures:
His look, pre-apocalypse, before he was the last of the Canadians.
Post-apocalypse: A mix-match between both. There is a lot of red flannel.
Personality: An odd personality, Teddy is just about the last person you'd expect to survive the apocalypse. With easy smiles and a go-lucky attitude, Teddy sees every forest fire as warmth for the night and every flood as a refreshing drink. Endless optimism, endless cheerfulness, and cares ungiven. Point is, Teddy's an unusually cheerful man for one who's spent eight years in the apocalypse. In part, that's because he genuinely enjoys the apocalypse. Before everything, he had no living family or friends and was laid off from his dream job. Now, he gets to play the role of wandering gunslinger as he learns photography and how to play the guitar. In his mind, the apocalypse was a complete improvement over his old life.
For all his cheerfulness, though, Teddy's not an idiot. He's not trusting, casually cynical, and doubtful of intentions. He hides these traits under his clearer traits like his optimism, so it's not easy to discern those traits from him at first glance. He's not prideful enough to take offense to just about anything either, so he lets just about anything slide. Just don't let the insults get TOO personal.
- Traits: Stubborn, reckless, driven, optimistic, cheerful, selfless, and approaches everything with a can-do attitude
- Peculiarities: Insists on wearing Aviator shades at all times, says "Aboot", takes pictures with his polaroid whenever he wants.
Skills:
- Firearms. He's great with rifles, lever actions or bolt actions. He's favored them for eight years now, so he can score a shot between the eyes from a while away. He's good with pistols as well, popping off precise shots at a decent speed. He's decent enough with shotguns, if clutching his shoulder in pain after firing can be considered decent, that is. Lastly, his skill with automatics is crap at best. As much as he loves wasting bullets with their rapid-fire potential, Teddy screws up controlling the recoil more often than not and has to stick to bursts to hope to get a good shot.
- Stamina. Teddy might not be the fastest runner, but he might just be the longest runner. This skill was learned less intentionally, with each mile-long run away from a horde unintentionally slowly but surely bolstering his stamina over the years.
- Swinging. Teddy's little-league days are really starting to pay off. He's a half-decent swing given a weapon.
- Winging it. Probably not even a skill, but he's just really good at coming up with ideas on the fly.
- Wilderness Survival. You need to get really good at surviving in the wilderness really fast if you want to stand a chance of trekking across Canada after a societal collapse. Fire starting, navigation, making shelter, and hunting are all his forte.
- Identifying plants. Whether it makes for good food, anti-venom, or natural medicine, Teddy can probably find something along those lines among the flora around him.
- His usual armor consists of knee guards, wrist guards, and elbow guards, all of which are mismatched sporting gear. Other than that, he wears a lightweight black bullet-proof vest covering his chest and back from small arms fire. He pilfered it off a dead officer. You didn't ask, but just so you know.
- Carries around a modernized 1894 Winchester lever-action rifle chambered in .30-30 Winchester. The gun has a 26' barrel, allowing nine rounds. The gun also comes with an easily detachable 6x scope on the top rail and a flash hider attached to the barrel.
- Has a Glock 17 tucked into a holster on his right hip. He carries around at least a dozen extra mags for the weapon in his backpack, most of which are not loaded. He just hoards Glock magazines in case he ever loses some in the heat of a fight. Better to have them and not need them, he thinks.
- An H&K VP40 pistol with five extra mags, only two of which are full.
- A butterfly knife tucked into his belt. He threw away his old survival knife for the butterfly knife because he loved how it looked. Does he regret it? Not one bit.
- A survival machete sheathed on his left hip. Good for hacking, sawing, and bashing. What more could he need?
- A hunting knife he only uses to skin and kill animals.
- A canteen filled with water on his belt. He has water bottles and the likes in his pack, but the canteen is what fills him up on the fly.
- Two days worth of food and water stuck in his backpack
- A small pouch next to his Glock filled with rounds for his rifle.
- A polaroid camera with extra batteries
- A range-finder
- Binoculars
- Rifle cleaning equipment
- His backpack, of course. It's primarily filled with camping supplies. A canteen set, firestarter, the usual, but no sleeping bag though. It was too big, he didn't need it anyway.
Faction: Mercenary for hire in the mall. Less of a mercenary, really, and more of a good samaritan people go to when they need help no one else can or is willing to provide. He started showing up around the area three years back, coming and going every now and then. Deterred by the promise of an easy life and safety from the dead, Teddy rarely spends more than a week at the mall before leaving for months at a time.
Backstory: Born in Calgary, Alberta, Teddy lived out in the boonies for most of his life. His childhood home was located in the northernmost reaches of Alberta, somewhat isolated even from the small community he lived near a mile away. Naturally, when it takes you a half-hour to drive to school every day, you're a bit isolated from your age group. Teddy didn't mind, though. He was a naturally sociable child, and his younger siblings satisfied his need for company, so he didn't really feel like he was missing out. With two caring but busy parents, Teddy, eventually, had to accept his role in helping raise his four younger siblings. Even if his parents weren't distracted with their careers, he doubted they'd be able to effectively handle five kids.
By the time he graduated community college a year ago, Teddy was a married man and figured it was time to move off. Go back to Calgary, get a good job, find what he was good at. That was his game plan. None of it played out like that. Quickly becoming estranged from his family due to the physical distance between them and the irregularity of his calls, Teddy failed again and again to find a decent job.
Fast forward five years, and Teddy's life quickly built into a downward spire. He was stuck in a dead-end job with no real prospective future or dreams, his younger sister and father were both suffering from cancer, his mom was beginning to have heart problems, and his wife was filing for divorce.
A year after that, at the age of twenty-eight, Teddy is a divorced man just laid-off from his job who recently buried the last of his family after they died less than a month ago. With no real plan or any idea what he's even doing with his life, he moves back into his childhood home as he tries to salvage what's left of his life.
Two weeks later, the world ended. Teddy chose to stick it out in his family home, awaiting whatever happened with open arms as he got blackout drunk for what would presumably be the last few days of his life. He figured it was an alright way to go, all things considered. Then the Americans nuked Canada to hell and back, his home burned down after a horde barged in, and Teddy was, surprisingly, still alive. Figuring that his only two options were die in Canada or die in America, Teddy reluctantly chose America. He'd always wanted to visit the states, so he might as well die there. Teddy didn't even bother checking if his ex-wife survived-given how she was still living in Calgary by the time the bombs dropped, he didn't really see how they'd have survived.
Dodging irradiated hotspots, hordes, and freezing temperatures all the way to the East Coast, Teddy stole a sailing yacht and crashed rather than landed somewhere along the shore of New York three months after everything went down. Slipping under the radar, Teddy found safety in the NUSA.
But Teddy had gotten a taste of the apocalypse. The danger, the excitement, the adrenaline, he found himself actually missing it. Teddy hadn't really been good at just about anything before that point, but this? Surviving, fighting the living dead, narrowly dodging death at every corner, well, he was really good at that. One of the first things he'd ever been good at, really.
So, that's why he willingly crossed the Mississippi river to the inhospitable zombie-ridden-hellscape that was the Western part of the United States. With not a single regret, Teddy began touring the West for his own amusement, taking up photography as he honed his survival skills. At some point down the line, he started getting friendly with communities. He'd do the things nobody else was suicidal enough to do and they'd pay him. A very simple relationship. He'd be asked to retrieve X medicine from this zombie-infested town, or Y person from where they're trapped on all sides by a horde, and all he'd ask for in return was for a handful of bullets for his rifle or some food and water to last a day or two. Really, it was always less about the payment and more of the fun.
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Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Name: Lt. Fredrik Hammargren Davis (nicknamed 'Fred' by his friends in the States)Gender: Male
Age: 35
Appearance:
- Weight: 95kg
- Height: 193cm
- Build: Fit, strong
- Skin Color: Fair
- Hair Color: Brown
- Eye Color: Brown
- Outfits/Normal Clothing:
Combat gear:
Distinctive Features: Military tattoos, various, arms and chest; Barcode, small, neck; Text, Latin "Pro Bono Publico", lower right arm.
Personality
- Traits: Professional, serious, (somewhat) cold, determined and focused.
- Quirks: Distrustful towards non-military, impolite/rude towards those he perceives as incompetent.
Skills:
- Firearms
- Combat medicine
- Wilderness survival
- Foreign linguistics/relations
- Military logistics
Equipment :
- AK5C (5.56)
- Pistol 88/Glock 17 (9mm)
- Terävä Skrama 240
- Various assortment of (military) medical supplies
- General military gear such as ammunition, radio etc.
Faction: United Nations WHO Special Task Group (liaison)/NUSA Department of Homeland Quarantine and Safety
Backstory: Born to a Swedish mother and an American father, Fredrik spent most of his childhood in central Sweden. Because of his parent's sour relation- and much in thanks to his dual citizenship- Fredrik occasionally went to the States to visit his father, a low-level diplomatic functionary, in Washington D.C. and his father's relatives in and around the New York-area.
Upon turning 18 he decided to follow in his mother's footsteps and enlisted with the Swedish Armed Forces to serve as a officer. These plans changed however after Fredrik was accepted into the Life Regiment Hussars at K3, having the young man change course from officer cadet to Army Ranger.
Showing a affinity for combat medicine in particular Fredrik was trained to become a combat medic and would eventually see his first tour of duty in Mali as part of the UN's MINUSMA mission at the young age of 22. From there Fredrik would come to play a vital part in future UN assignments overseas as his medical expertise helped train local resources.
After several tours to Mali, Afghanistan and Iraq the UN reached out to Fredrik for a more permanent posting in the United States at the UN HQ in New York. Seeing a opportunity to help out on a much grander scale the then-optimistic Fredrik accepted, thinking that the new posting would also allow him to re-establish contact with his father and his many american relatives.
While posted at the UN HQ Fredrik oversaw several international medical relief and training missions, mostly regarding sub-Saharan nations, but also took an advisor role for other United Nations missions with a strictly medical nature.
When the Crash came Fredrik had just been assigned to oversee a multi-national United Nations effort to coordinate military and medical logistics pertaining to the rumors of a large-scale disease outbreak in India. Little did Fredrik know that the very same "disease outbreak" were the first reported cases of the Blight. Slowly but surely the UN and it's sub-organizations tightened up with Fredrik sensing something bad coming his way as there was a sudden spike in meetings behind locked doors and an increase in the need for additional SatCom channels.
Preparing for the worst and listening to his instincts Fredrik requested that his kit would be shipped in from Sweden. Luckily for him his weapons and gear arrived just as things started to go from 'bad' to 'worse'. Like most people Fredrik watched social media and saw videos of people chasing other people in near-mindless blood-thirst out on open streets. Yet despite all the warning signs around him he continued to carry on with his work; dutifully overseeing the logistical operations he had been appointed to which had gradually changed from 'medical equipment transports' to 'classified military transports'.
Even as he was quartered permanently inside the UN complex just as it entered lockdown with Manhattan burning and screaming in the back Fredrik couldn't believe what was going on. Then, when everything went to shit, Fred realized far too late that he had unintentionally been given a first-row ticked to the end of the world.
Accepting no outsiders, the UN did its best to track reports from the outside world regarding the outbreak and its aftermath. Inside its walls Fredrik and the other security forces sat on guard duty in rotating shifts alongside anyone else with even a sliver of rudimentary military training or experience handling weapons. Thanks to a high concentration of local competence (alongside some good 'ol crisis-hoarding) the UN staff at the HQ managed to stay relatively self-sufficient until the NUSA government wrestled control of the east coast.
Salvation was short-lived though as the world had truly forever changed. Tasked with assisting NUSA's DHQS on behalf of the diminished UN organization currently struggling on a day-to-day basis while being cut off from most of its remaining branches and departments laid scattered across the world. While Fredrik is grateful for having a new purpose he carries an immense survivor's guilt as well as the optimistic wish of someday returning home.
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Solar Daddy
Synthetic Nightmare
Name: Lars Thompson
"The Ashen"
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Appearance:
Weight: 170 lbs
Height: 5’9”
Build: Stocky
Skin Color: Fair
Hair Color: Dirty blond
Eye Color: Blue
Outfits/Normal Clothing: Lars is known to wear whatever gear necessary for his survival. He’s never seen without a gas mask at hand, usually around his collar or hip. Besides this, Lars often wears a poncho, trench or other type of earth-tone outerwear for both better concealment and protection from inclimate weather. Under this is usually whatever he can find; t-shirts, button ups, flannels. Dark cargo pants are his preferred legwear alongside work boots. His style is often dictated by whatever environment he’s in. He prefers to be able to blend in whenever possible.
Distinctive Features:
Lars has a distinctive, large bite mark on his neck (non-infected related).
He also has a gash on his chin that’s noticeable up close.
Picture 1 (General Appearance/Facial Features):
Picture 2 & 3 (Outfit/Style while traveling):
Personality:
Traits
Community-oriented - Despite his nature as a maverick, Lars is known to put groups above himself and believes others should do the same. This doesn’t however translate to saving those who are already as good as dead.
Paranoid - Lars sees threats in everyone until proven otherwise and is quick to distrust. Combined with his altruistic ideals, Lars is often conflicted with himself whether to help or not. He’d been burned too many times for lending a hand.
Lars finds nature captivating and is much more inherently lighthearted and at ease in the wilderness.
Prepper - Lars’ combined traits often has him creating backup plans for his backup plans. This includes setting all kinds of intricate traps, caches, and exit routes in most situations. This can knock Lars’ focus off track at times.
Unbothered - Lars goes with whatever is needed at the time and is very straightforward with it, preferring action over stagnation. If you need a knife, he will be the first to offer his.
Peculiarities
When feeling uncomfortable in a situation, Lars often puts his hand wherever his sidearm is stored out of habit; this is oftentime his outer right thigh, even if he’s not currently equipped.
Being from Seattle, Lars often wears his typical rainwear even on bright sunny days.
Mental State
Despite his paranoia, Lars is of sound mind and can complete most tasks without mental hindrance.
However, Lars still finds unease in unfamiliar places and he’s notably more stiff in such situations.
Description
Lars has prospered in the wasteland of the West as best he can. Being a hunter since before the Crash, Lars has turned his skills into a trade and often takes on big payouts for animals. Since many eat mostly crops or farm products, Lars’ keen ability to hunt in the sparse wilds means he can bring wild animal meat to anyone who would want to pay him for it. Even though he isn’t an assassin of any kind, he’s been known to take on hunting down or at least tracking another survivor if the price - or reasoning - was good enough, though this is a rare occurrence for him. His attitude is often somber and straightforward, and while he isn’t much for talking, he still finds time to socialize with those around him despite probably seeming a little off at times.
Skills:
Lars is an excellent hunter and tracker and his skills are often employed by those around him.
While not being in the business of killing for pleasure or personal gain most of the time, Lars has become a good shot with his specific rifle due to countless game he’s hunted over the years. He is not a firearm expert however and isn’t familiar with many weapon types besides his own.
Lars is excellent with blunt weapons due to his strength. A personal favorite of his is a hammer.
Lars is a rather good cook and can substitute as one whenever needed.
Lars studied abroad in his earlier years and developed a love for cyrillic languages. His strongest second language is Ukranian.
Lars is great at navigating nature and the wilds, and while some of his navigation prowess transfers over to urban environments, it is clearly not as developed for him.
Equipment:
Lars has a customized Mosin-Nagant rifle from his time abroad in his earlier years. Due to the specialized ammunition used, he rarely uses it outside of life threatening moments or for protection. This rifle is often hidden away in one of his many caches for emergencies.
Lars' second rifle, a Remington, is his everyday rifle that he’s grown fond of as well. Since the ammunition used for it is easier to find than for the Mosin, this is the rifle he uses for most jobs.
He also possesses a glock sidearm.
Hunting knife.
Various navigation tools such as a compass and map of the local area.
Various types of outerwear with different patterns and colors to camouflage for different types of environments.
A small backpack that’s easily concealable within his outerwear.
Lars is an expert at surviving away from civilization and his combined knowledge of this and his rations allows him to go out on odysseys for up to two weeks with comfort.
M15 gas mask with backup filters. Lars is never without this and keeps it ready to use at all times.
Faction: The Mall. Lars became friendly with the populace there due to his hunting rewards, coming by every few months with plenty of game to sell. Eventually he made his permanent lodging there, when he’s not off for weeks at a time.
Marital/Familial Status: Lars is unmarried, but despite what he may say, he’s had a complicated past with a consistent person for months.
Backstory:
Lars grew up in a loving family in the city of Seattle. His father imparted a love for hunting in him at a young age as a way to escape their busy city life. His best memories in childhood were being out in nature with his father. However, as Lars grew up, he found himself going out less and less as he was preoccupied with work and education. He took an indefinite hiatus from the hobby to pursue becoming a lawyer, then a doctor, then a hundred other professions. Lars couldn't quite find joy in anything he attempted to become and quickly was burned out of higher education entirely. Lars settled for a low paying government lackey position with too many hours to even consider hunting trips. He occasionally traveled whenever he had time though, quickly becoming fond of Eastern Europe and specifically Ukraine. It became a yearly tradition for him to save up for a trip to spend time with those he befriended there. It was his one getaway that got him remotely close to feeling like he did when he was hunting with his father.
Eventually, Lars grew sick of his repetitive life and abruptly decided to change. He had no one who he kept up with besides occasional check-ins with his siblings and parents, so he decided to live his life off the grid. For a good portion of his time, he struggled with being a full time survivalist, going hungry or cold most nights. However, over time he honed the skills he lost long ago and ignited the passion he once had for it. This unfortunately came at the cost of his ability to meet his friends in Ukraine. However, he still kept up with the language and kept his second language.
When the Crash came, Lars was less aware than he should've. Living out on his own made him distant and isolated. However, he felt the earth shake and he saw massive fires that burned away entire countrysides. When he came back to Seattle, the apocalypse had been well underway and his family home was abandoned. Lars quickly begun a string of events that lead him to be more and more cautious. Events that increased his already paranoid nature. As he searched for his family, Lars grew into a full survivalist focused on keeping alive at all costs.
Lars eventually gave up his search for his family. He was a good tracker, but had no lead he could follow on them. He searched for family vacation spots, relatives' homes and everything in between. All he was met with were skeletal remains, or the dead, far too decayed to recognize. He never found out what happened to his family and it's one of the things that keeps him up at night. Leaving the Seattle area in his wake, he quickly found himself stuck in the middle of one of the infamous wildfires that turned the Northwest forests into the Ashfields. Lars was one of the few that survived the ordeal, at its height being a devastating inferno that turned most to ash. Lars, someone who could outlast this harsh heat, became an Ashen as a way to avoid infected. He joined the league of scouts that vied for the survival of all who would call the Ashfields home and helped to stabilize the region. Lars' work was thankless, but he contributed heavily to the community he loved.
He spent his years surviving inferno after inferno, further reducing the fields to nothing. He waited out firestorms in bunkers, created fireproof lodging in outcroppings, and scoured the difficult terrain for anything to sustain the tribes. However, a fling of intense run-ins with a specific tribe left him running. He found himself at The Mall, far away from the pressure of the Ashfields and those that hunted him. He quickly grew fond of those there and became a regular seller, and furthermore a resident. He still left for long periods to hunt and enjoy the wilderness where he felt most at home. However, he felt a longing to return to the land where he felt most comfortable, and someday wishes to return.
Currently, Lars is a respected, well known and valued member of the Mall's community and is known for helping those around him.
"The Ashen"
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Appearance:
Weight: 170 lbs
Height: 5’9”
Build: Stocky
Skin Color: Fair
Hair Color: Dirty blond
Eye Color: Blue
Outfits/Normal Clothing: Lars is known to wear whatever gear necessary for his survival. He’s never seen without a gas mask at hand, usually around his collar or hip. Besides this, Lars often wears a poncho, trench or other type of earth-tone outerwear for both better concealment and protection from inclimate weather. Under this is usually whatever he can find; t-shirts, button ups, flannels. Dark cargo pants are his preferred legwear alongside work boots. His style is often dictated by whatever environment he’s in. He prefers to be able to blend in whenever possible.
Distinctive Features:
Lars has a distinctive, large bite mark on his neck (non-infected related).
He also has a gash on his chin that’s noticeable up close.
Picture 1 (General Appearance/Facial Features):
Picture 2 & 3 (Outfit/Style while traveling):
Personality:
Traits
Community-oriented - Despite his nature as a maverick, Lars is known to put groups above himself and believes others should do the same. This doesn’t however translate to saving those who are already as good as dead.
Paranoid - Lars sees threats in everyone until proven otherwise and is quick to distrust. Combined with his altruistic ideals, Lars is often conflicted with himself whether to help or not. He’d been burned too many times for lending a hand.
Lars finds nature captivating and is much more inherently lighthearted and at ease in the wilderness.
Prepper - Lars’ combined traits often has him creating backup plans for his backup plans. This includes setting all kinds of intricate traps, caches, and exit routes in most situations. This can knock Lars’ focus off track at times.
Unbothered - Lars goes with whatever is needed at the time and is very straightforward with it, preferring action over stagnation. If you need a knife, he will be the first to offer his.
Peculiarities
When feeling uncomfortable in a situation, Lars often puts his hand wherever his sidearm is stored out of habit; this is oftentime his outer right thigh, even if he’s not currently equipped.
Being from Seattle, Lars often wears his typical rainwear even on bright sunny days.
Mental State
Despite his paranoia, Lars is of sound mind and can complete most tasks without mental hindrance.
However, Lars still finds unease in unfamiliar places and he’s notably more stiff in such situations.
Description
Lars has prospered in the wasteland of the West as best he can. Being a hunter since before the Crash, Lars has turned his skills into a trade and often takes on big payouts for animals. Since many eat mostly crops or farm products, Lars’ keen ability to hunt in the sparse wilds means he can bring wild animal meat to anyone who would want to pay him for it. Even though he isn’t an assassin of any kind, he’s been known to take on hunting down or at least tracking another survivor if the price - or reasoning - was good enough, though this is a rare occurrence for him. His attitude is often somber and straightforward, and while he isn’t much for talking, he still finds time to socialize with those around him despite probably seeming a little off at times.
Skills:
Lars is an excellent hunter and tracker and his skills are often employed by those around him.
While not being in the business of killing for pleasure or personal gain most of the time, Lars has become a good shot with his specific rifle due to countless game he’s hunted over the years. He is not a firearm expert however and isn’t familiar with many weapon types besides his own.
Lars is excellent with blunt weapons due to his strength. A personal favorite of his is a hammer.
Lars is a rather good cook and can substitute as one whenever needed.
Lars studied abroad in his earlier years and developed a love for cyrillic languages. His strongest second language is Ukranian.
Lars is great at navigating nature and the wilds, and while some of his navigation prowess transfers over to urban environments, it is clearly not as developed for him.
Equipment:
Lars has a customized Mosin-Nagant rifle from his time abroad in his earlier years. Due to the specialized ammunition used, he rarely uses it outside of life threatening moments or for protection. This rifle is often hidden away in one of his many caches for emergencies.
Lars' second rifle, a Remington, is his everyday rifle that he’s grown fond of as well. Since the ammunition used for it is easier to find than for the Mosin, this is the rifle he uses for most jobs.
He also possesses a glock sidearm.
Hunting knife.
Various navigation tools such as a compass and map of the local area.
Various types of outerwear with different patterns and colors to camouflage for different types of environments.
A small backpack that’s easily concealable within his outerwear.
Lars is an expert at surviving away from civilization and his combined knowledge of this and his rations allows him to go out on odysseys for up to two weeks with comfort.
M15 gas mask with backup filters. Lars is never without this and keeps it ready to use at all times.
Faction: The Mall. Lars became friendly with the populace there due to his hunting rewards, coming by every few months with plenty of game to sell. Eventually he made his permanent lodging there, when he’s not off for weeks at a time.
Marital/Familial Status: Lars is unmarried, but despite what he may say, he’s had a complicated past with a consistent person for months.
Backstory:
Lars grew up in a loving family in the city of Seattle. His father imparted a love for hunting in him at a young age as a way to escape their busy city life. His best memories in childhood were being out in nature with his father. However, as Lars grew up, he found himself going out less and less as he was preoccupied with work and education. He took an indefinite hiatus from the hobby to pursue becoming a lawyer, then a doctor, then a hundred other professions. Lars couldn't quite find joy in anything he attempted to become and quickly was burned out of higher education entirely. Lars settled for a low paying government lackey position with too many hours to even consider hunting trips. He occasionally traveled whenever he had time though, quickly becoming fond of Eastern Europe and specifically Ukraine. It became a yearly tradition for him to save up for a trip to spend time with those he befriended there. It was his one getaway that got him remotely close to feeling like he did when he was hunting with his father.
Eventually, Lars grew sick of his repetitive life and abruptly decided to change. He had no one who he kept up with besides occasional check-ins with his siblings and parents, so he decided to live his life off the grid. For a good portion of his time, he struggled with being a full time survivalist, going hungry or cold most nights. However, over time he honed the skills he lost long ago and ignited the passion he once had for it. This unfortunately came at the cost of his ability to meet his friends in Ukraine. However, he still kept up with the language and kept his second language.
When the Crash came, Lars was less aware than he should've. Living out on his own made him distant and isolated. However, he felt the earth shake and he saw massive fires that burned away entire countrysides. When he came back to Seattle, the apocalypse had been well underway and his family home was abandoned. Lars quickly begun a string of events that lead him to be more and more cautious. Events that increased his already paranoid nature. As he searched for his family, Lars grew into a full survivalist focused on keeping alive at all costs.
Lars eventually gave up his search for his family. He was a good tracker, but had no lead he could follow on them. He searched for family vacation spots, relatives' homes and everything in between. All he was met with were skeletal remains, or the dead, far too decayed to recognize. He never found out what happened to his family and it's one of the things that keeps him up at night. Leaving the Seattle area in his wake, he quickly found himself stuck in the middle of one of the infamous wildfires that turned the Northwest forests into the Ashfields. Lars was one of the few that survived the ordeal, at its height being a devastating inferno that turned most to ash. Lars, someone who could outlast this harsh heat, became an Ashen as a way to avoid infected. He joined the league of scouts that vied for the survival of all who would call the Ashfields home and helped to stabilize the region. Lars' work was thankless, but he contributed heavily to the community he loved.
He spent his years surviving inferno after inferno, further reducing the fields to nothing. He waited out firestorms in bunkers, created fireproof lodging in outcroppings, and scoured the difficult terrain for anything to sustain the tribes. However, a fling of intense run-ins with a specific tribe left him running. He found himself at The Mall, far away from the pressure of the Ashfields and those that hunted him. He quickly grew fond of those there and became a regular seller, and furthermore a resident. He still left for long periods to hunt and enjoy the wilderness where he felt most at home. However, he felt a longing to return to the land where he felt most comfortable, and someday wishes to return.
Currently, Lars is a respected, well known and valued member of the Mall's community and is known for helping those around him.
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idiot
𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥.
𝗝𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗔𝗡 "𝗝𝗔𝗬" 𝗞𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗥𝗜.
— THE BASICS.
Gender: Cis female.
Age: Nineteen.
Appearance: Standing at a measly 5'3", Jay is of average weight (110 lbs) with well-defined calves and muscular thighs from running; some may describe her as having a track-star build. Her skin is a cool brown with blue undertones and several blemishes from being a hormonal teenager. Her dark brown — bordering on black — hair is usually an unruly mess that is choppy and falls just below her shoulders. It is difficult to pinpoint a colour for Jay's eyes, the usual brown shifting to dark, murky green in the light. Her face is still quite round and plump, holding onto that baby fat, which doesn't help people take her seriously considering how young she looks.
Outfits/Style: Jay's sense of fashion is...questionable and considered by most as juvenile. Often wearing faded child tees that are plastered with colourful cartoon characters and designs. If she is hanging around the mall she is wearing her signature denim overalls, adorned with patches, that have definitely seen better days. Colours that clash and items of clothing that don't work well aesthetically is common for Jay. She is always wearing a pair of trainers as you never know when shit hits the fan. When scouting she tries to dress appropriately in sporting attire that doesn't restrict movement or slow her down.
Distinctive features: Pouty lips that refuse to shut, a large scar running across her forehead which is often concealed by her hair, discolouration under her eyes from lack of sleep, a collection of anklets and bracelets adorn her right ankle and left wrist, respectively, with each having a purpose/reason.
— PERSONA.
Personality: A deathly curious and adventurous individual, Jay is someone that many may write off or underestimate because of her childlike and immature nature. She can come across as naive and one that people want to protect and shield from the atrocities of the new world. However, she is incredibly observant, knowledgeable and resourceful when the situation presents itself — which it has many, many times. In fact, people question if her bubbly and childish nature is but an act or if she is just lucky; considering she has managed to live this long. A people person, Jay is very charismatic and oddly charming for most, able to talk herself out of trouble. She is receptive to other people's emotions and cares deeply about what others think. Yet, Jay can easily cross people's personal boundaries as she is quite affectionate towards those she cares about. She easily gets attached to those around her — probably too attached considering how normal death is and still struggles to take loss well. Overall, from a psychological perspective, it makes sense why Jay is the way she is, having been so young before the Crash and considering she is still growing into a young woman. Her personality is bound to change, but for now, Jay is not changing for anyone.
Traits: curious, scrappy, adventurous, resourceful, childish, charismatic, observant, impatient, caring, affectionate, daring, dogmatic.
Quirks: Has a habit of talking to herself, especially when she is stressed or deep in thought. When she is nervous she fiddles with the heap of bracelets on her wrist. Considers herself vegetarian, even though there have been desperate times where she has eaten meat.
Ailments: Mild attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) — was diagnosed prior to the apocalypse and has seemingly got most of the symptoms under control. Also suffers from insomnia most days, choosing to keep herself awake with caffeine tablets. Maybe a mild pill addiction?
— SKILLS.
Runner/Parkour: Jay is incredibly agile and extremely fast on her feet than the average person. She can quickly maneuver obstacles, scale walls and has the stamina to keep up with most. If the world didn't go to shit she would have made a great track runner. Pretty flexible too and can stealth around if need be without anyone even knowing she was there.
Scout/Tracker: With a keen eye for detail, Jay notices the littlest of things, from quirks to small movements. She prides herself on being able to determine someone's next move — especially the Vectors. Jay thrives especially in the wilderness, able to follow and determine the origin of animal and human tracks thanks to her fathers.
Wilderness skills: From setting up and arming traps to identifying edible plants, Jay knows all the intermediate survival and wilderness skills from growing up in the woods. She can tie a majority of knots, navigate, first aid, start fires, fishing, locate both clean water and suitable campsites and build shelters.
Zoology: While she isn't as good as her father, Jay is an adept student in the behaviour, physiology, classification and distribution of animals. She tries to adapt these skills to people as well and finds that it comes in handy for the Vectors as well. If anything, she views them as both man and animal.
Blades: Jay prefers to stay out of sight and stealth around, avoiding fighting when possible but she knows her way around blades. She has developed quite a deft hand with smaller blades and will use them to take down unaware stragglers or Casualties in small numbers.
Bows: Like most who have lived this long she knows how to use most small firearms but has found an affinity for bows. She likes how quiet they are and don’t rely on machinery — a bow will never jam. While not an expert marksman, she can usually make the shot.
Charmer: Jay knows how to get her way with batting her eyelashes and using her natural charm. Mainly for personal gain, she isn't great at negotiating, but if she wants something? Jay usually gets it.
Sleight of hand: apart from knowing some nifty magic tricks, Jay is able to swindle or pickpocket objects from others without them noticing — well most of the time.
— EQUIPMENT & PERSONAL BELONGINGS.
Notebook: a faux-leather bound journal, this book is filled to the brim with drawings, photos, scribbled-on maps, notes and information surrounding not only Jay's life but the world around her. She considered it an encyclopedia about the Crash, Vectors and Casualties. Never leaves her sight.
Drone: a high-tech drone that belonged to her father Wayne, a gift from Amir for their tenth anniversary. Wayne was a lover of drones and made most of his money prior to the Crash by filming and selling stock videos of the woods and local towns. Also did a wedding or two. The drone was once a pearlescent white but Jay has painted it Wayne's favourite colour — pale blue — after his death. It comes equipped with a screen/remote controller. Some of the Mall residents swear they have heard her refer to the drone as "Dad".
First Aid Kit: a small, rusting tin that she refuses to get rid of for sentimental reasons. It has all the necessary first aid stuff needed and even some Hello-Kitty bandaids.
Kukri: a gift from her father, Wayne, after she turned fourteen (hey it's the apocalypse!), this Kukri styled machete has a black finish and came with a sheath that Jay has sewn onto her trusty backpack.
Recurve Bow: handy fibreglass recurve bow that Jay scavenged from a hunting store within the Mall. She painted it a gaudy pink but has begun chipping to reveal its original orange finish.
Glock 19: her least favourable weapon but a must, this Glock 19 has an extended magazine and under-barrel light. She was given this when she joined the Mall settlement as a last resort. Usually strapped to her thigh or tossed in her backpack.
Binoculars: usually hanging around her neck, these old binoculars are something that Jay has had most of her life and shows with multiple, colourful stickers from when she was a child. Described as perfect for bird watching and hunting, these binoculars provides 10x magnification and even closeup focus on subjects that are already near the user.
Backpack: a faded green, compact hiking backpack that has "JORDAN" stitched onto the front. Usually houses her notebook, a well-loved deck of cards, caffeine tablets, handheld radio, first aid kit, a few rations, metal water bottle, ammo + arrows, and other supplies.
— BACKSTORY.Faction: The Mall. Almost teetering on three years, Jay is known as the resident scout for scoping out potential looting places and outposts, other encampments and factions, and for other general scouting needs. Is also a runner for the encampment, and will happily go on supply runs or missions that require stealth and observation. Often found wowing residents with her magic tricks or observing Vectors and Casualties, and even "experimenting" on them — all for the good of her "encyclopedia" or at least that is what she tells everyone. A beam of hope and optimism, she is well-liked by most within the encampment.
Family: Raised by her two, adopted fathers — Wayne (aged 41, photographer/taxidermist and deceased) and Amir Khatri (aged 43, zoologist and status unknown). Does not know her birth parents and doesn't care to.
Backstory: A rambunctious and curious child, Jay was adopted in London when she was three, by her fathers, Wayne and Amir Khatri. They spent the first few years in London before moving to Wayne's hometown in Missouri. Wayne had inherited his father's cabin that was settled in the woods. After a few remodels and some major TLC, the cabin became the little family's haven. While Amir needed to travel quite a bit for work, Jay's childhood before the Crash can be described as nothing but loving, warm, educational and perfect in her eyes. Endless questions flooded from the tottling child, eager to learn everything about the world, especially about what both her fathers knew. While most children could sing the alphabet, Jay was able to identify the name of most animals in picture books.
Jay was only eleven when the Crash happened, thankfully Amir was not away from home at the time for work. For the Khatri's, the first few years after the Crash was rather...manageable. Located in the woods, they avoided most of the Vectors and only had to deal with stragglers. Thanks to Wayne's survival and navigational skills, along with Amir's intelligence and expertise with animals, they were surviving within the apocalypse. Eager to help, Jay's parents taught her everything they knew but tried as much as possible to shield her from the violence.
Being so young, Jay was able to easily adapt to the apocalypse — setting traps around the property, learning safety protocols and being taught how to fire a bow was the new normal for Jay. She did everything with a smile and felt as though she could take on the world with her fathers by her side. All she lacked was friends but thanks to the handy Ham radio that Wayne's father had left to collect dust, Jay spent her time cheerily talking to other survivors. Amir and Wayne saw no harm in it and it seemed that the people on the other end needed it more than her. The pair couldn't be any prouder of her. Amir was also able to use the radio to get into contact with colleagues in the scientific community prior to the apocalypse and they compared notes when possible.
Unfortunately, the story can't end there, one of Amir's colleagues mentioned the new initiative DHQS were implementing and were currently hunting for a group of capable scientists to research treatments for the Blight. Managing to get into contact with a DHQS representative, they clambered to have Amir's expertise, who has done research papers on disease, infection and mutation among animals. Jay remembers the fight her parents had that night, Wayne begging Amir not to listen to the DHQS's promises of safety for not just him but his family. Amir had already made up his mind though, Wayne and Jay waking up to a lengthy letter telling them that he was going to check the legitimately of the claims and would be in contact via the radio.
They never heard from him again. Jay would sit at the radio every day for the next few months, tears in her eyes, as she desperately waited to hear his voice. Eventually, she would fall asleep, Wayne placing a blanket over her, the headset still around her neck.
A year passed and while Wayne and Jay had managed to survive by themselves, tragedy struck once more. The details of what happened that day are unknown to everyone but Jay who hasn't seemingly told anyone about her father's death. A scout from the Mall settlement found the sixteen-year-old girl slumped against a tree; snot-faced and tears staining her dirty cheeks with blood seeping from a nasty gash on her forehead, clutching a notebook.
Ever since that day, Jay has become an integrated member in the Mall and is a breath of fresh air for most, choosing to keep a positive outlook and help those around her. Despite her age, Jay doesn't sit back and let the adults handle everything, she insists on helping and is a competent scout for the settlement thanks to her speed, intuition and her father's drone.
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Nic the Merc
In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming
Name: Eden “Florida” Winter
Gender: female
Age: 34
Appearance
Weight: 160 lbs
Height: 5’ 3”
Build: Short, muscular
Skin Color: the sun has tanned her skin like leather and covered it in sunspots
Hair Color: whatever shade of violet hair dye she’s scavenged; mousey brown normally
Eye Color: amber brown
Outfits/Normal Clothing: Eden only has two looks- tactical gear and Florida girl
Personality Traits:
- If “Jackass” had a female cast member, it would’ve been Eden
-Addiction is a monster she almost didn’t survive during a temporary, non consensual detox in the Crash’s aftermath. She’s always been a blast at parties.
- Hunting is her favorite pastime
-Less a doomsday prepper and more an apocalypse enthusiast
-Hard headed and short tempered
-Hates all government
Quirks: -Acts before she thinks
-Occasionally quotes Inglorious Bastards, replacing ‘Nazi’ with ‘zombie.’
-Her favorite weapon type is improvised.
Marital/Familial Status:
Single, no living relatives known
Skills: -Hunting and fishing (hunt, kill, clean, cook, and treat the rest)
- Construction (was working on earning her own general contractor’s license before the Crash. She had struggled with electric.)
-Tri lingual (English, Spanish, German in order of skill)
-Gun nut (has bought, cleaned, modded, and shot any kind of gun she could get her hands on)
-Basic survival skills (camping since she was born coupled with her passion for doomsday prep has given her a very solid knowledge base)
- Very strong/fit; great at swimming, climbing, hiking, etc
-Can make moonshine and meth
- Flexible/Nimble (although her time in the military has hindered her ability to fit in tight spaces as easily as she used to)
Equipment: - GUNS (upon joining, the government confiscated her collection of weapons only to provide her back unreliable stock for front line recruits. Since, she is constantly collecting and abandoning firearms, keeping gear in tip top shape, leaving behind what they have no use or ammo for)
- Custom sledgehammer with a long handle and a small, heavy head. Grip is custom for her hands. (Her favorite tool from her construction career)
- Gator leather bracers and tall boots, hand made specifically for the zombie apocalypse
- Camping basics
-1 key on a necklace, never removes. Key is red, number 27 written in black.
- Deck of cards
- 5 six-sided die
- Lighter, matches, and heavy duty flashlight
- Whatever substance she can abuse, scavenged. At the start she has half a pack of cigarettes, a flask of homemade moonshine, and a small pipe.
Faction: NUSA
Backstory: Eden’s childhood felt magical to her, although CPS probably wouldn’t have agreed. Born and bred in the Florida swamps, she grew up in a place where everyone knew everyone. She lived with her grandparents in a 55 and over trailer park community. They got special permission to keep her after her parents died when their camper fell off a cliff. Eden had luckily been at daycare. She has no memory of her parents at all.
The young girl spent most of her time playing outside, falling in love with the independence she felt discovering things on her own. As she got older and went to school, she started collecting friends. By the end of third grade, she was a part of an inseparable group with 4 other kids.
They called themselves The Survivors. The leader of the small group, Rosalie, had a horror movie buff for a mother. At recess she would tell the others all about what the monsters were and how to fight them. Soon, the only game they ever played was zombies. Sometimes it was a version of tag, other times it was hide n seek, and more often than anything, it was a group of kids playing out in the Florida swamps honing skills that would one day make it easier to survive the end of the world.
As they got older, no one out grew the zombie apocalypse talk. It only got more and more serious. The Survivors were some of the most athletic students in the school; Eden herself was the star of the wrestling team.
Being small town kids, they truly had no university ambition. Eden started to work for her grandfather’s construction company. After her grandmother died, her grandfather retired, leaving Eden his business. She enjoyed the work and could even hire a couple of The Survivors. Her remaining friends worked in complementary fields, so the three companies could help build up work for one another.
By now, they were all in their late twenties. The Survivors made good money, meaning now they could comfortably indulge their doomsday prep more seriously. For years they had talked about going all in on an apocalypse bunker together, but at $30k they had yet to pull the trigger. That all changed during a Vegas trip.
Rosalie had gotten engaged to a handsome construction lead at Eden’s company. Eden didn’t understand the jealous pit in her stomach when she found out, and wouldn’t until it would be too late.
Rosalie’s Bachelorette party was meant to be a big Vegas blowout for The Survivors…and it was. After a drunken bet at the roulette table, each member placing a single chip on the same number, they walked out of the casino $30k richer. But before anyone sobered up, the money was gone.
A whirlwind night uncomfortably similar to The Hangover had the group waking up to a shared deed for an underground bunker in Utah. After they returned to Florida they kept it, naming the vault Red 27 after their shared bet. Over the next year, they stocked the place and started making plans to move out to Utah. Unfortunately, they took too long.
During the Crash, they were all in Florida except Rosalie, who was delivering fresh supplies to the bunker. The group had no way to travel there. Blocked by government red tape at every turn, the group grew desperate. When Eden heard about the reclamation effort, she hatched a plan.
She knew NUSA was desperate for recruits and they also had the best supplies around. All they would need to do was sign up as a team and get sent out west. From there, they’d travel to Utah and the bunker with all the supplies they needed to start the journey.
What Eden forgot to account for was NUSA’s manipulation. As soon as they signed the paperwork, an officer gave them a work order stating they were shipping out the next day. All to separate units in separate parts of the quarantined areas. They all made the promise to head to the bunker as soon as they could.
It took years, but its T Minus now or never as Eden has finally crossed over to the west. She finally can start heading to the bunker she and her friends had prepped. As she heads to the Mall with her unit, she wonders when she will be able to head to her true destination. After 8 years, she is about to test the skills she been honing her entire life, and Eden is ready to let loose.
Gender: female
Age: 34
Appearance
Weight: 160 lbs
Height: 5’ 3”
Build: Short, muscular
Skin Color: the sun has tanned her skin like leather and covered it in sunspots
Hair Color: whatever shade of violet hair dye she’s scavenged; mousey brown normally
Eye Color: amber brown
Outfits/Normal Clothing: Eden only has two looks- tactical gear and Florida girl
Personality Traits:
- If “Jackass” had a female cast member, it would’ve been Eden
-Addiction is a monster she almost didn’t survive during a temporary, non consensual detox in the Crash’s aftermath. She’s always been a blast at parties.
- Hunting is her favorite pastime
-Less a doomsday prepper and more an apocalypse enthusiast
-Hard headed and short tempered
-Hates all government
Quirks: -Acts before she thinks
-Occasionally quotes Inglorious Bastards, replacing ‘Nazi’ with ‘zombie.’
-Her favorite weapon type is improvised.
Marital/Familial Status:
Single, no living relatives known
Skills: -Hunting and fishing (hunt, kill, clean, cook, and treat the rest)
- Construction (was working on earning her own general contractor’s license before the Crash. She had struggled with electric.)
-Tri lingual (English, Spanish, German in order of skill)
-Gun nut (has bought, cleaned, modded, and shot any kind of gun she could get her hands on)
-Basic survival skills (camping since she was born coupled with her passion for doomsday prep has given her a very solid knowledge base)
- Very strong/fit; great at swimming, climbing, hiking, etc
-Can make moonshine and meth
- Flexible/Nimble (although her time in the military has hindered her ability to fit in tight spaces as easily as she used to)
Equipment: - GUNS (upon joining, the government confiscated her collection of weapons only to provide her back unreliable stock for front line recruits. Since, she is constantly collecting and abandoning firearms, keeping gear in tip top shape, leaving behind what they have no use or ammo for)
- Custom sledgehammer with a long handle and a small, heavy head. Grip is custom for her hands. (Her favorite tool from her construction career)
- Gator leather bracers and tall boots, hand made specifically for the zombie apocalypse
- Camping basics
-1 key on a necklace, never removes. Key is red, number 27 written in black.
- Deck of cards
- 5 six-sided die
- Lighter, matches, and heavy duty flashlight
- Whatever substance she can abuse, scavenged. At the start she has half a pack of cigarettes, a flask of homemade moonshine, and a small pipe.
Faction: NUSA
Backstory: Eden’s childhood felt magical to her, although CPS probably wouldn’t have agreed. Born and bred in the Florida swamps, she grew up in a place where everyone knew everyone. She lived with her grandparents in a 55 and over trailer park community. They got special permission to keep her after her parents died when their camper fell off a cliff. Eden had luckily been at daycare. She has no memory of her parents at all.
The young girl spent most of her time playing outside, falling in love with the independence she felt discovering things on her own. As she got older and went to school, she started collecting friends. By the end of third grade, she was a part of an inseparable group with 4 other kids.
They called themselves The Survivors. The leader of the small group, Rosalie, had a horror movie buff for a mother. At recess she would tell the others all about what the monsters were and how to fight them. Soon, the only game they ever played was zombies. Sometimes it was a version of tag, other times it was hide n seek, and more often than anything, it was a group of kids playing out in the Florida swamps honing skills that would one day make it easier to survive the end of the world.
As they got older, no one out grew the zombie apocalypse talk. It only got more and more serious. The Survivors were some of the most athletic students in the school; Eden herself was the star of the wrestling team.
Being small town kids, they truly had no university ambition. Eden started to work for her grandfather’s construction company. After her grandmother died, her grandfather retired, leaving Eden his business. She enjoyed the work and could even hire a couple of The Survivors. Her remaining friends worked in complementary fields, so the three companies could help build up work for one another.
By now, they were all in their late twenties. The Survivors made good money, meaning now they could comfortably indulge their doomsday prep more seriously. For years they had talked about going all in on an apocalypse bunker together, but at $30k they had yet to pull the trigger. That all changed during a Vegas trip.
Rosalie had gotten engaged to a handsome construction lead at Eden’s company. Eden didn’t understand the jealous pit in her stomach when she found out, and wouldn’t until it would be too late.
Rosalie’s Bachelorette party was meant to be a big Vegas blowout for The Survivors…and it was. After a drunken bet at the roulette table, each member placing a single chip on the same number, they walked out of the casino $30k richer. But before anyone sobered up, the money was gone.
A whirlwind night uncomfortably similar to The Hangover had the group waking up to a shared deed for an underground bunker in Utah. After they returned to Florida they kept it, naming the vault Red 27 after their shared bet. Over the next year, they stocked the place and started making plans to move out to Utah. Unfortunately, they took too long.
During the Crash, they were all in Florida except Rosalie, who was delivering fresh supplies to the bunker. The group had no way to travel there. Blocked by government red tape at every turn, the group grew desperate. When Eden heard about the reclamation effort, she hatched a plan.
She knew NUSA was desperate for recruits and they also had the best supplies around. All they would need to do was sign up as a team and get sent out west. From there, they’d travel to Utah and the bunker with all the supplies they needed to start the journey.
What Eden forgot to account for was NUSA’s manipulation. As soon as they signed the paperwork, an officer gave them a work order stating they were shipping out the next day. All to separate units in separate parts of the quarantined areas. They all made the promise to head to the bunker as soon as they could.
It took years, but its T Minus now or never as Eden has finally crossed over to the west. She finally can start heading to the bunker she and her friends had prepped. As she heads to the Mall with her unit, she wonders when she will be able to head to her true destination. After 8 years, she is about to test the skills she been honing her entire life, and Eden is ready to let loose.
Aeris
BSC
Name: Ashlynn Everett (Ash/whatever you please!)
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Appearance:
Distinctive Features: She had a scar across her stomach from an accident she got into when she was six.
Pictures:
Personality: Pre- apocalypse, Ashlynn was a very reserved and quiet young girl with a passion for adventure. She cares deeply for her friends and family, willing to do anything to make sure they are safe. Ashlynn can be considered loyal to a fault, often ignoring her own well-being. After the apocalypse, however, Ashlynn adapted, gaining a newfound motivation to survive. Her aloof exterior is just a front, as she is still a very compassionate girl who overthinks how to talk to strangers.
Traits:
Quirks: Ashlynn cannot sit still for the life of her. If she’s not pacing the room she is toying with her father's necklace.
Marital/Familial Status: Single, her parents are probably deceased.
Skills:
Equipment:
Faction: Mall (she helps scout and scavenge supplies)
Backstory:
Ashlynn Everett was born in the town of Marlow, Buckinghamshire with her parents. Growing up, she was often referred to as a “wild child”, always getting into anything and opting to spend her days exploring the outdoors. The family of three were not wealthy by any means, but they got by just fine with what they had. At a young age, her father taught her basic survival skills as well as archery, which she was able to catch on fairly quickly.
One of Ashes earliest memories was going to see a production of The Nutcracker when she was just five years old. She was mesmerized from the second the curtains opened to the final bow. It had amazed her that an entire story could be told through dance rather than words. After months of begging, she was finally able to convince her parents to let her sign up for classes at a local studio. Ashlynn’s passion for dance only grew stronger as the years went on.
School for the young girl could be described as rocky at best. Where Ashlynn was “book-smart”, she wasn’t “people-smart,” Her peers often found her odd, as she was much happier with her nose in a book than talking to them. Ash didn’t mind however, she was content with doing what made her happy.
It wasn’t until she was thirteen that Ashlynn began to grow more comfortable with herself. She had become less awkward in school, even being able to make a small group of friends. It was also around this time she fell in love with the world or archeology. Ash loved reading about the ancient civilizations around the world, hoping, one day, she’d also be able to travel the world, exploring everything it had to offer. While she had a newfound love of archeology, her passion for dance was still as strong as ever.
It was also around that time that her father had gotten a job offer in America. Within the year, the family had left their quiet town behind for the equally quiet town of Whitechapel, Massachusetts. Ashlynn struggled with the change of lifestyle. She was right back where she had been when she was a child, choosing to read a book instead of attempting conversation with her new classmates.
As it had last time, however, life worked itself out. Once she entered high school, Ashlynn was welcomed into a friend group with open arms. Not only had she gained a group of friends, but Ash had also managed to get a job at a local coffee shop in town. Life was once again looking up for the young girl.
And then all hell broke loose. Ashlynn had been up late studying for an upcoming math test when it happened. Her parents had burst into her room, giving her little to no information except to pack a bag of essentials. Though confused, Ashlynn obeyed their orders. It wasn’t until the radio came on in the car that the news finally hit her.
For hours, the family drove in silence, afraid speaking would only solidify the events mentioned on the radio.Eventually, they hit a roadblock, forcing them to continue on foot. Along the way, they ran into a small group of survivors, who agreed to help.
The group formed a settlement of sorts. Nothing too big or too small, but comfortable given the number of people. Ashlynn’s days of dancing and studying maps were long gone. Now replaced with learning how to survive. Afraid of what would happen should she let her mind wander, Ash spent her days going on patrols and improving her skills.
The group spent five years together. Ashlynn, now twenty, had grown to become an independent young woman. She wasn’t used to the zombies by any means, but unfortunately, they were a part of her everyday life now. It didn’t matter though, so long as she was with her family she could handle anything.
It had been a cold November morning when Ashes parents had woken her up. They told her they would be scouting the area for food and had offered her to come along. Ashlynn had declined the offer however, as she hadn’t been feeling good. She waited anxiously as dawn turned to dusk and, by the end of the next day it was clear her parents most likely weren’t coming back. With her parents missing, Ash packed the few items she had and left. It didn’t take long for her to come across the mall where she made a permanent residence once again.
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Appearance:
- Weight: 120 lbs
- Height: 5'5
- Build: Slim with muscle definition
- Skin Color: Fair
- Hair Color: brown
- Eye Color: brown
- Outfits/Normal Clothing:
Distinctive Features: She had a scar across her stomach from an accident she got into when she was six.
Pictures:
Personality: Pre- apocalypse, Ashlynn was a very reserved and quiet young girl with a passion for adventure. She cares deeply for her friends and family, willing to do anything to make sure they are safe. Ashlynn can be considered loyal to a fault, often ignoring her own well-being. After the apocalypse, however, Ashlynn adapted, gaining a newfound motivation to survive. Her aloof exterior is just a front, as she is still a very compassionate girl who overthinks how to talk to strangers.
Traits:
- Positive
- Loyal
- Compassionate
- Adventurous
- Motivated
- Flaws
- Stubborn
- Indecisive
- Too much blood makes her sick
- Awkward
Quirks: Ashlynn cannot sit still for the life of her. If she’s not pacing the room she is toying with her father's necklace.
Marital/Familial Status: Single, her parents are probably deceased.
Skills:
- Quick mental and physical reflexes
- Good listener
- Basic survival tactics
- Knowledgeable in plants
Equipment:
- Compound bow and homemade arrows
- Books (She’ll read anything she can get her hands on)
- Some water and food
- Flashlight
- Photos of her childhood
- Her backpack
- A revolver and ammo (will not touch it unless she has to)
Faction: Mall (she helps scout and scavenge supplies)
Backstory:
Ashlynn Everett was born in the town of Marlow, Buckinghamshire with her parents. Growing up, she was often referred to as a “wild child”, always getting into anything and opting to spend her days exploring the outdoors. The family of three were not wealthy by any means, but they got by just fine with what they had. At a young age, her father taught her basic survival skills as well as archery, which she was able to catch on fairly quickly.
One of Ashes earliest memories was going to see a production of The Nutcracker when she was just five years old. She was mesmerized from the second the curtains opened to the final bow. It had amazed her that an entire story could be told through dance rather than words. After months of begging, she was finally able to convince her parents to let her sign up for classes at a local studio. Ashlynn’s passion for dance only grew stronger as the years went on.
School for the young girl could be described as rocky at best. Where Ashlynn was “book-smart”, she wasn’t “people-smart,” Her peers often found her odd, as she was much happier with her nose in a book than talking to them. Ash didn’t mind however, she was content with doing what made her happy.
It wasn’t until she was thirteen that Ashlynn began to grow more comfortable with herself. She had become less awkward in school, even being able to make a small group of friends. It was also around this time she fell in love with the world or archeology. Ash loved reading about the ancient civilizations around the world, hoping, one day, she’d also be able to travel the world, exploring everything it had to offer. While she had a newfound love of archeology, her passion for dance was still as strong as ever.
It was also around that time that her father had gotten a job offer in America. Within the year, the family had left their quiet town behind for the equally quiet town of Whitechapel, Massachusetts. Ashlynn struggled with the change of lifestyle. She was right back where she had been when she was a child, choosing to read a book instead of attempting conversation with her new classmates.
As it had last time, however, life worked itself out. Once she entered high school, Ashlynn was welcomed into a friend group with open arms. Not only had she gained a group of friends, but Ash had also managed to get a job at a local coffee shop in town. Life was once again looking up for the young girl.
And then all hell broke loose. Ashlynn had been up late studying for an upcoming math test when it happened. Her parents had burst into her room, giving her little to no information except to pack a bag of essentials. Though confused, Ashlynn obeyed their orders. It wasn’t until the radio came on in the car that the news finally hit her.
For hours, the family drove in silence, afraid speaking would only solidify the events mentioned on the radio.Eventually, they hit a roadblock, forcing them to continue on foot. Along the way, they ran into a small group of survivors, who agreed to help.
The group formed a settlement of sorts. Nothing too big or too small, but comfortable given the number of people. Ashlynn’s days of dancing and studying maps were long gone. Now replaced with learning how to survive. Afraid of what would happen should she let her mind wander, Ash spent her days going on patrols and improving her skills.
The group spent five years together. Ashlynn, now twenty, had grown to become an independent young woman. She wasn’t used to the zombies by any means, but unfortunately, they were a part of her everyday life now. It didn’t matter though, so long as she was with her family she could handle anything.
It had been a cold November morning when Ashes parents had woken her up. They told her they would be scouting the area for food and had offered her to come along. Ashlynn had declined the offer however, as she hadn’t been feeling good. She waited anxiously as dawn turned to dusk and, by the end of the next day it was clear her parents most likely weren’t coming back. With her parents missing, Ash packed the few items she had and left. It didn’t take long for her to come across the mall where she made a permanent residence once again.
Attachments
Last edited:
evermoon
ever || he/him
- - - the basics
Name: Oliver "Ollie" Joseph Jones
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Appearance: Ollie is a warm looking guy, with blue eyes and curly ginger hair. His height is almost deceptive, because while he looks rather lanky from far away (it's the long limbs), he really only stands at about 5 foot eight. Like his height, his muscle mass is not what you might guess when you first look at him. His brother once said you could probably push Ollie over with a stiff stick, but that was before the virus hit. Now, Ollie's still got that slim build, but he's also got a nice coating of lean muscle gleaned from hard work. This is most noticeable in his arms, as working as mechanic has meant he's gotten used to lifting heavy things and whatever else might be needed of him. He's on the younger side, and from close up, you can definitely tell he's in his mid twenties, but from far away, he can be mistaken for a teenager without too much of a struggle. He's somewhere in the gray zone between being good-looking and a little dorky, but as he's gotten older and gained muscle, he has become more attractive in a conventional sense.
Day to Day Dress: If you're looking for Ollie in the mall, the easiest way to pick him out is to look for his clothing. Ollie can usually be found in one of two things. The first is a pair of deep brown overalls, made out of the same material you'd expect in cargo shorts, and he usually pairs this with a random tee shirt with some graphic design he doesn't care too much about. If he's not wearing that, there's a good bet you can find him in a khaki green pair of coveralls with short sleeves. Both of these things have splattering of grease on them from use, but the coveralls are noticeably more stained. Outside the mall, he'll don things he considers more protective or harder to bite through. This can be a jacket made out of either thick denim or stiff leather, but these are a more rotating collection he isn't particularly attached to, as he's likely to toss them off if he feels like they're gonna hold him back.
Distinctive Features: Ollie's ginger hair makes him stick out already, but if that wasn't enough, his entire body is splattered in freckles. Alongside that, one of the things that's distinctive about him is his grin, which is warm but certainly a little goofy.
- - - personality
Quick Traits: [ creative, light-hearted, high-energy, trusting, distractible ]
Description: Ollie is generally an upbeat dude. Maybe he's not the type to whistle a song as he walks down the street, but he is the kind of guy who does his best to offer smiles to the people he sees. He's managed to keep these attitude throughout the apocalypse; in fact, it might be the thing that pushed him into becoming as optimistic as he is. Having a positive attitude is a conscious choice he makes, because when he thinks negatively, he tends to suck himself into a whirlpool and often ends up overthinking or pushing himself into a downward spiral. In conjunction with the positive outlook, he does his best to be friendly and outgoing, and is generally likable, even if he seems like an odd duck at times. He wants to be funny, and he thinks he is, but sometimes his jokes just aren't funny or don't make sense. He isn't super talented in the art of listening or comforting, but he will try if it's asked of him. He is empathetic, but he doesn't have much skill with actively calming people or being a voice of reason. His ideas tend to be off the wall, and they aren't always serious, but sometimes these plans can be a good stepping stone for better ideas. He likes to feel useful, so it's a pretty safe bet that he'll help out pretty much whenever it's asked of him.
Ollie's friendly demeanor isn't always to his benefit, however. He can be too trusting, and can sometimes have a habit of being too jovial or upbeat when the tone of a conversation or moment isn't suited for it. It's not that he can't be serious, even though he usually isn't, but that he doesn't always recognize the moments where he should be. This can sometimes make him seem insensitive. While he's learned over time how to handle his own emotions, he isn't always the greatest at dealing with those of other people. To add to that, he can be easily distracted or lose focus on something if he isn't fixated on it.
Quirks: While some might find his personality itself a bit quirky, he doesn't have too many actual quirks to speak of. Ollie does fidget and mess with his hands at times, most commonly by cracking his fingers or his knuckles. When he's deep in thought, his tongue often pokes out from between his lips, especially if he's writing or working on something. One weird little thing that he's strangely proud of is his ability to touch both the point of his nose and the tip of his elbow with his tongue, but that's more of a weird party trick than anything.
- - - assets
Skills: Ollie may not be the first person you think of when you need somebody to help you out, considering he neither looks built nor seems like he's got the serious mind you need to get you out of a jam, but he's got a good list of skills on the back burner that he's developed and learned to stay alive.
- Agile: Ollie may not be the guy who can run forever, but he does have agility on his side. He's quick on his feet when he needs to be, and his general height and figure make him ideal for fitting into small spaces or getting out through quick holes. You have a vent that needs crawling through? He's your guy.
- Creativity: Ollie may not be the guy you want to leave in charge of your plans, but you definitely want his help. He is able to think in a way that sets logic aside in the beginning so that he can come up with a way that would get them out of a problem, and then figure out a way to make that work within what he has available to him at the time.
- Explosives: So maybe Ollie was a bit of a pyro as a kid, and what about it? He's good with pretty much anything that explodes. Ollie almost always has something on him that explodes, and he's got a good throwing arm to go with it. While disarming isn't his forte, he's been doing his best to learn that as well.
- Close-Range Firearms: He may not be your best bet for a sniper, but along with being agile, he's good with fighting up close. Weapon-wise, he's good with a shotgun and a pistol, but he also shows skill when using knives, even if it means he's had some close calls in the past.
- Mechanics: Ollie was finishing up an apprenticeship at a mechanics shop when the world decayed. In order to keep these skills sharp, and manage a living, he works in Sybille's mechanic shop at the mall. He's pretty good with most cars, but motorcycles have been a bit of a challenge for him in the past, so he's taking extra care to learn that now.
- Berretta Px4 Storm: A 9mm pistol that's ideal for not only shooting zombies, but a concealed carry. It's not that Ollie wants to keep it a secret that he has a gun on him pretty much all the time, but something about having one displayed openly makes him feel weird, so he prefers this bad boy.
- Sawed-Off Shotgun: Another weapon ideal for close range fighting, which is a plus when Ollie isn't the greatest at long distance aiming. Any time he thinks he might be encountering any combat, especially if he's going somewhere, the shotgun is a must have. He'd be lying, however, if he said he wasn't itching to replace it with a combat shotgun should the chance present itself.
- Knives: In close situations, or ones that require a certain amount of silence, Ollie will opt for a knife. He carries a hunting knife on his modded holster, and he never leaves without his swiss army knife tucked in one of his pockets. In his backpack is usually a third blade, a combat knife in a sheath, but he rarely has a use for it.
- Ammunition: As a part of his toolbelt, there are three bags marked aside for ammo. One contains 9mm for his Berretta, another contains shells for his shotgun, and the third contains any other spare ammo he can find, which he will then bring back to the Mall and comb through in order to sort them.
- Explosive Supplies: He may not be carrying a handful of grenades on him at all times, but he always has something on him that he can make something out of in a pinch. Most commonly, this is a few bottles of cheap vodka with some rags and matches, and at times, an old Nalgene water bottle that's half full of gasoline.
- Tool Set: Ollie has an array of tools he never goes anywhere without. He's got many of a toolkits usual suspects, like a few screwdrivers and a pair of sturdy pliers, but there are usually a few others in the mix. If he's expecting to have to boost a car or two to get where he needs to go, he might even bring a battery-operated power drill.
- Sustenance: You should never go anywhere unprepared, and as such, he often has something to sustain him for wherever he goes. Water is a big must, so he always has a few bottles, and this is usually complimented by smaller things that travel well, like granola bars or packs of old beef jerky.
- Emergency Socks: Ollie hates wearing wet socks, and therefore does his best to keep a spare pair on him in case of any wet foot emergency.
- - - information
Faction: The Mall
Backstory: Ollie's background isn't filled with a lot of trauma, but it isn't exactly cookie-cutter, either. He was born as the youngest of three brothers, and coincidentally, the only redhead. His whole family swore up and down that it would probably fade away with age, but it never did, and he carried his ginger hair with him throughout the entire rest of his life. It was a common joke among his grandparents and his two brothers that the red hair had to be from somewhere else, and they would sometimes joke that his father was actually Stew, his dad's best friend with bright orange locks who had been like an uncle to Ollie and his siblings.
The joke ended up being based in reality, though the only ones who had known before the secret slipped was his mother and Stewart. When Ollie has to get an emergent appendectomy in fourth grade, his blood type ended up revealing that there was no way Wayne, the man he had thought was his dad, could have been his biological father. After this revelation, Ollie's mother ended up confessing to the affair, leading to the divorce that broke up his family, and it was messy. All of the Joseph brothers struggled, but Ollie took it the hardest. While his parents got split custody, Ollie and his father couldn't quite move past the news that he wasn't his son. Wayne never treated him badly, but the news created a sort of wall, and Ollie could never figure out how to cross that distance. His mother loved him just the same, but he spent years being angry with her for all the things she did. His brothers were still his brothers of course, but sometime he would get the feeling that they resented him for the affair, as if the fact that he was proof of the affair was what caused their parents to split, not his mother's infidelity. Stewart, for the most part, was cut off. Neither Ollie's parents nor his siblings cared to keep contact with the man, and Ollie wrote him off as well, hoping the decision would appease his father.
When Ollie was fifteen, and his mother had remarried, she gave birth to Josie, Ollie's half-sister. Ollie loved her from the minute she was born, and she quickly became his favorite member of the family. There was no resentment or judgement from an infant, just love and dependency. Despite the age gap, the two were incredibly close, and she spent the first few years of her life practically attached to him at the hip.
When the world fell apart, Ollie had been finishing up an apprenticeship in mechanics a few towns over from where his family lived. He had hurried back there as quickly as he could, but his mother, and Josie, had vanished. He had no way of knowing what had happened to them, despite searching. He took Josie's disappearance particularly hard, but when he couldn't find them, he had to accept the fact that he couldn't just wait around in his hometown and hope for them to come back. At the very least, if he had to find a place to settle down and try to last out the rest of the end of the world, it wasn't going to be in the same town he'd spent nearly his entire life in. Instead of waiting around, Ollie picked up whatever he thought he might need.
Contrary to what he expected, the world didn't end, although it came to a near stand still. Ollie moved from place to place with group to group until he ended up in the mall. It wasn't that far from where he had grown up, but anything was better than where he had started. Ollie had never felt like he'd had much to lose, but Josie did sting. However, he was also astounded by the fact that the world just kept turning, even when everything seemed lost. This, more than anything, inspired his positive outlook, and he tries to hold onto everything that is still standing as a reminder than humanity is strong enough to overcome even the heaviest of losses. After all, if so many people can wake up and keep going despite all the things they've seen and done and lost, the least he could do is wake up with a smile.
Last edited:
gouache
cold and planetary.
name. Leon Nikolaos Akulov
nickname. Lion
gender. Male
age. 32
height. 6'5 (195.58 cm)
weight. 195 lbs
— appearance.
face. Diamond shaped, sharp jawline, prominent square chin, with high cheekbones. He has small but very proportioned and well balanced lips with a defined cupid's bow. He has an aquiline nose shaped nose, a straight nose bridge, and ends with a soft curvy tip.
skin. A warm sandy complexion, smooth and tawny with a few freckles on his body.
body. He appears to be herculean at first sight, strappingly brawny in size, athletic defined muscles, tight calves, broad-shouldered, and imposingly tall.
hair. Golden blonde color, with a soft textured Ivy league haircut, that he either styles with molding paste to be swept back or parted to the side, with a taper fade. Without use of molding paste, his hair is messy, wavy, and without shape. strong thick eyebrows, with a naturally well defined shape.
eyes. Dark murky green, with hints of hazel. Intense deeply set, almond shaped eyes, and it looks like he is glaring most of the time.
distinguishing features. He has bulky large hands that are calloused at the palm, with long fingers. Long and light healed scars (slashes) on his chest and back, and small scars on hands, legs, and arms.
wardrobe. Leon's usual wardrobe is rather simplistic, unfussy, well-worn, and tailored. His tops consist of loose-fitting long-sleeved button up and banned collared shirts in neutral colors. The buttons of his shirts are usually a few buttons undone, and kept at a loose length, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He rarely wears a coat or jacket due to how warm blooded he is, but if the weather is especially cold, he will put on his only light brown tweed frock coat. He wears his regular high waist trousers, the fabric of his pants depending solely on the weather. Leon consistently has on old leather y-shaped overalls, but often lets them down to his sides instead of up right when he’s relaxed. He has only two pairs of shoes, his laced brown leather ankle height boots, or his black leather riding long boots. Leon isn’t a fan of buying clothing, and is only comfortable wearing what he knows. Leon also sports a faded brass wrist watch with a dark brown leather band. he has a simple well made wedding ring in a mellow toned yellow gold, with an inscription inside that has initials and a date.
— persona.
The core of Leon’s personhood and self revolves solely around being a father and the pressure he puts on himself through having to become a maternal figure to his children in the absence of his wife. The pressure of raising two young children has him in a constant state of internal panic and stress to remain confident in spite of the harsh circumstances they live in. Leon privately doubts his parenting skills, and is very hard on himself because of it. Even in such disarray to keep up with his small children, he does not ask for help from others even when he is desperately in need of it.
Although he questions his parental validity, it is clear when observing him with his children that he is assertive, patient, and does not take bad behavior passively. Leon immediately reprimands destructive behavior to correct it, especially in relation to his hyper-active eldest daughter, Camille. While his youngest daughter, Madeline, is often seen comfortably and quietly sitting on his hip. He is sweet on his girls, and is especially cuddly and playful with them (although not in public), much like his wife was. Beyond his identity as a father, he is constantly ridden with the feeling of unbearable grief. He doesn’t have the luxury of delving into the traumatic loss of his person, his wife. Often drowning in the guilt of his wife not being the one alive, who he believes his children need more than him.
Because of this, he comes off as aloof and uninterested, but he is just a quiet individual. He chooses to distance himself from others and avoids socializing as much as he can to keep focused on his children- even if he finds great interest in meeting new people. He is reserved regardless, and is always deeply absorbed in thought. He is rational and level headed, open minded and accepting, kind and protective, and very honest when asked his opinion on certain matters. He is loyal to the ones he values, understanding, empathetic and will always lend an ear to anyone in need of it. On the other hand, once he has left the mall and children behind, his only focus is to come back to them in one piece. Among other things, like keeping as many people alive as possible in his protection. His biggest fear is leaving his children abandoned and orphans, so it’s more than likely he will put his children above everyone else.
quirks. Unknowingly twisting his wedding band on his finger, smoking cigarettes or tobacco from a pipe, and putting his hands in his pockets. He will often pat his leg as a habit due to patting his youngest daughter so much to comfort her.
— skills.
close combat. He is an expert at krav maga, after decades of training from childhood, relying mostly on his trained fighting skills.
archery. He hunted daily growing up with only a bow and arrow under the teachings of his father. With great practice, is he the most confident in his archery ability.
fishing. Leon was raised on a catfish farm, he is talented at the regular pole, line, and lure- but his favorite form of fishing was throwing spears from long distances.
scouting. He's talented at creating and building with what is around him, such as shelter, fire, weapons, and basic materials in order to survive difficult circumstances.
first aid. He is self taught in basic first aid due to looking after his clumsy children.
— everyday items.
diaper bag. He stores all of his items he uses daily for himself and his children stuffed into a light beige and pink colored diaper bag, decorated in little drawings of monkeys on it. He is always seen with the bag over his shoulder. Leon doesn’t keep any dangerous items inside the bag in case one of the children were to get their hands on it.
family.
Ellie, wife. (deceased)
Camille, eldest daughter. (4)
Madeline, youngest daughter. (1)
nickname. Lion
gender. Male
age. 32
height. 6'5 (195.58 cm)
weight. 195 lbs
— appearance.
face. Diamond shaped, sharp jawline, prominent square chin, with high cheekbones. He has small but very proportioned and well balanced lips with a defined cupid's bow. He has an aquiline nose shaped nose, a straight nose bridge, and ends with a soft curvy tip.
skin. A warm sandy complexion, smooth and tawny with a few freckles on his body.
body. He appears to be herculean at first sight, strappingly brawny in size, athletic defined muscles, tight calves, broad-shouldered, and imposingly tall.
hair. Golden blonde color, with a soft textured Ivy league haircut, that he either styles with molding paste to be swept back or parted to the side, with a taper fade. Without use of molding paste, his hair is messy, wavy, and without shape. strong thick eyebrows, with a naturally well defined shape.
eyes. Dark murky green, with hints of hazel. Intense deeply set, almond shaped eyes, and it looks like he is glaring most of the time.
distinguishing features. He has bulky large hands that are calloused at the palm, with long fingers. Long and light healed scars (slashes) on his chest and back, and small scars on hands, legs, and arms.
wardrobe. Leon's usual wardrobe is rather simplistic, unfussy, well-worn, and tailored. His tops consist of loose-fitting long-sleeved button up and banned collared shirts in neutral colors. The buttons of his shirts are usually a few buttons undone, and kept at a loose length, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He rarely wears a coat or jacket due to how warm blooded he is, but if the weather is especially cold, he will put on his only light brown tweed frock coat. He wears his regular high waist trousers, the fabric of his pants depending solely on the weather. Leon consistently has on old leather y-shaped overalls, but often lets them down to his sides instead of up right when he’s relaxed. He has only two pairs of shoes, his laced brown leather ankle height boots, or his black leather riding long boots. Leon isn’t a fan of buying clothing, and is only comfortable wearing what he knows. Leon also sports a faded brass wrist watch with a dark brown leather band. he has a simple well made wedding ring in a mellow toned yellow gold, with an inscription inside that has initials and a date.
— persona.
The core of Leon’s personhood and self revolves solely around being a father and the pressure he puts on himself through having to become a maternal figure to his children in the absence of his wife. The pressure of raising two young children has him in a constant state of internal panic and stress to remain confident in spite of the harsh circumstances they live in. Leon privately doubts his parenting skills, and is very hard on himself because of it. Even in such disarray to keep up with his small children, he does not ask for help from others even when he is desperately in need of it.
Although he questions his parental validity, it is clear when observing him with his children that he is assertive, patient, and does not take bad behavior passively. Leon immediately reprimands destructive behavior to correct it, especially in relation to his hyper-active eldest daughter, Camille. While his youngest daughter, Madeline, is often seen comfortably and quietly sitting on his hip. He is sweet on his girls, and is especially cuddly and playful with them (although not in public), much like his wife was. Beyond his identity as a father, he is constantly ridden with the feeling of unbearable grief. He doesn’t have the luxury of delving into the traumatic loss of his person, his wife. Often drowning in the guilt of his wife not being the one alive, who he believes his children need more than him.
Because of this, he comes off as aloof and uninterested, but he is just a quiet individual. He chooses to distance himself from others and avoids socializing as much as he can to keep focused on his children- even if he finds great interest in meeting new people. He is reserved regardless, and is always deeply absorbed in thought. He is rational and level headed, open minded and accepting, kind and protective, and very honest when asked his opinion on certain matters. He is loyal to the ones he values, understanding, empathetic and will always lend an ear to anyone in need of it. On the other hand, once he has left the mall and children behind, his only focus is to come back to them in one piece. Among other things, like keeping as many people alive as possible in his protection. His biggest fear is leaving his children abandoned and orphans, so it’s more than likely he will put his children above everyone else.
quirks. Unknowingly twisting his wedding band on his finger, smoking cigarettes or tobacco from a pipe, and putting his hands in his pockets. He will often pat his leg as a habit due to patting his youngest daughter so much to comfort her.
— skills.
close combat. He is an expert at krav maga, after decades of training from childhood, relying mostly on his trained fighting skills.
archery. He hunted daily growing up with only a bow and arrow under the teachings of his father. With great practice, is he the most confident in his archery ability.
fishing. Leon was raised on a catfish farm, he is talented at the regular pole, line, and lure- but his favorite form of fishing was throwing spears from long distances.
scouting. He's talented at creating and building with what is around him, such as shelter, fire, weapons, and basic materials in order to survive difficult circumstances.
first aid. He is self taught in basic first aid due to looking after his clumsy children.
— everyday items.
diaper bag. He stores all of his items he uses daily for himself and his children stuffed into a light beige and pink colored diaper bag, decorated in little drawings of monkeys on it. He is always seen with the bag over his shoulder. Leon doesn’t keep any dangerous items inside the bag in case one of the children were to get their hands on it.
- The child care items needed for his children consist of snacks, formula, diapers, toys, etc. The bag is mostly all stuffed with child-care things.
- He carries a few of his precious handmade leather bound books with him for his daily journaling and current short stories he’s working on.
- Leon’s long distance attacks rely mostly (if not all) on his archery. He wears a protective arm guard, also known as shooting gloves. It’s a high quality brown leather construction with elastic in his fingers and forearm. He either wears it over a jacket or his bare arm. Including his matching leather quiver shoulder bag that keeps his bows safely in place and easy to access.
- A small old and rusty wooden handled knife in his pants pocket. Although the shiv is old, the actual metal is kept very clean and sharp.
family.
Ellie, wife. (deceased)
Camille, eldest daughter. (4)
Madeline, youngest daughter. (1)
Last edited:
gouache
cold and planetary.
name. Camille Fleur Akulovnickname. Sissy
gender. Female
height. 3’2
age. 4
— appearance.
skin. Silky smooth warm alabaster skin, flushed rosy cheeks, and light freckles speckled on the bridge of her nose.
body. Dainty boned and light-footed, small and slightly underweight for her age due to how picky of a eater she is.
hair. Strawberry blonde, silky smooth and wispy in texture, the length of her hair is slightly past her shoulders with a little fringe.
eyes. A deep rich cocoa-color, with a constant doleful look in her eyes.
distinguishing features. A small gap in between her two front teeth, and a set of dimples in the apples of her cheeks.
wardrobe. Camille isn’t picky when it comes to clothing, the only exception is it has to be comfy and the fabric must be to her specific liking. She often wears pinafore dresses on top of a long or short sleeved top depending on the weather. Her father puts her in flowy dresses, due to how much space she needs to run around and without restriction. Whatever she wears that day is decided by her father, which he doesn’t mind doing, but fears she will complain about the fabric choice.
— persona.
Camille is a silly, immensely curious, bright, creative, and energetic girl. She wants to be the star of the show and have the attention of others. She has always been a very independent child since birth, who marches to her own drum, and will refuse to do otherwise. She is unapologetically honest and curious, and will not beat around the bush when she has something to say. Camille speaks her mind, even when it doesn’t make much sense, or it is insulting to someone else. She is witty and sneaky, and has a habit of getting around her father’s line of vision to go about her shenanigans without restriction. Camille is daring and impulsive, and will act before she thinks without considering the consequences.
Camille is similar in personality to her mother as she was very close to her. Since the death of her mother, she easily acts out in anger over the simplest things. She loses her temper more often now, and becomes frustrated and irritated quickly. Camille is impatient in regards to her father and baby sister, and isn’t hesitant to snap at them. Her father refuses to allow Camille to raise her voice to him, and will immediately shut down her bad behavior- which in return doesn’t end well for the both of them. Camille used to be more patient and empathetic, but the loss of her mother affected her deeply even without knowing it herself. She is too young to express her grief and pain without acting out in tantrums, endless crying, and fits of rage. Outside of her anger, she is a loveable and tender child and just wants to be understood.
————
name. Madeline Darcy Akulov
nickname. Maddy, Mop
gender. Female
age. 1
height. 2'0
— appearance.
skin. Warm porcelain color, with rosy cheeks, and a baby smooth complexion.
body. A very healthy weight and size for a toddler her age, with a round belly, and relatively short arms and legs.
hair. Light pale blonde hair, soft brushed through curls, fringe trimmed above her eyebrows and the length slightly below her ears.
eyes. Bright grey blue color, almond shaped eyes, with curled and long blonde eyelashes.
distinguishing features. Long fingers (similar to her fathers), and a round tummy.
wardrobe. Madeline wears whatever her father dresses her in, and is rarely fussy about it. Due to how easy it is to dress her, her mother has always dressed her in very cute, stylish, and girly clothing. Her wardrobe mostly consists of smocked dresses with puff sleeves, dainty ruffles and lace trim in all different shades of pastel. If not the usual ruffle-smocked dresses, it’s a bloomer-smocked two piece set with the same ruffles and lace, and for pajamas it’s the same pastel colored nightgowns. Depending on the outfit she is wearing, it always matches with a frilly and ruffled bonnet on her head that ties beneath her chin. She wears either a pair of mary janes or leather boots.
— persona.
Madeline is very similar in personality and appearance to her father, and is ironically the closest to him. When Madeline was born, the first thing Leon’s wife said upon seeing Madeline for the first time was “I just gave birth to you”.. which Leon did not find very funny. She is basically a carbon copy of her father that it’s almost comical. Much like her father- Madeline is a well behaved, timid and shy little girl. She doesn’t speak or interact with people she is unfamiliar with, but will observe them at a safe distance, unless her father is there with her. She is constantly by her father, often found sitting on Leon’s hip comfortably. Although she is naturally peaceful and quiet, she does become very anxious when not close to her father, if even for a second. Madeline clings to him for stability and comfort, and will not have it any other way. Leon practices creating distance between himself and her to build confidence to become independent, but it never ends well. It is still a work in progress. Although it is unlike her to interact with others without her father beside her, she will approach if given the offer of food like a stray cat. Also like her father, she enjoys eating and is usually snacking on something.
Madeline gets along with her older sister- Camille, although they are the exact opposite of each other. Madeline looks to her older sister for guidance, support, and love. Madeline is unbelievably patient with Camille, even if Camille is rarely patient with her. Madeline loves her older sister greatly and is the most playful when she is with her. She feels most safe coming out of her shell when she is with Camille. Madeline sees her older sister as a leader, and will follow her like a duckling unconditionally. She is always amused by what Camille says or does, and is one of the only people who can actually make her laugh. All together she is a sweet, timid, and well-behaved toddler with a deep desire to know and understand more about the actions of the people around her, regardless of her need to always be near her father.
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spottednewt
perpetual hot salamandrid summer
Hi there! This is my proposal for your open NUSA character.
Name: Liberty Archer
Gender: Female
Age: 35
Appearance
- Weight: 145Lbs
- Height: 5’6”
- Build: Slim, but with newfound muscle definition that still feels bulky to her at times.
- Skin Color: Tanned white
- Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
- Eye Color: Green
- Outfits/Normal Clothing: Strictly military issued clothing. If it doesn’t have the NUSA or DHQS emblem on it - it has no use taking up space in her bag. In a bind, Liberty may opt for some tacky pink camo, or some trashy muscle tee to remind her of hunting with her cousins in the boondocks; but Liberty could not possibly be bothered with worrying about aesthetics from the very moment that the world went to trash. It’s either acutely practical, or it gets left behind.
~One angry pink scar that crosses diagonally across her left cheek - blemishing otherwise pristine skin
~Her only tattoo(s) is a small sea of irregular squiggles that line her left ribcage - clearly done post-end-of-days. Perhaps by a toddler.
~Physically, her most striking feature are her immaculately-kept eyebrows - they’re strong from carrying the weight of her inability to filter her facial expressions.
Pictures (optional, please no anime.)
~~~
Personality:
The lord’s year of two-thousand-and-I-lost-count knows a much different Liberty Jane Archer than the one it saw the end of pizza delivery with. A Young LJ had entered her early years of adulthood bitter and deeply jaded - attached to her cell phone, upset by the evening news, and always travelling between her car and the door of her apartment with her keys jutting out between the fingers of her closed fist. These things were normal. The world around her did not make sense in a way that vexed her so deeply, that she often couldn’t see out from behind her own grey cloud. Why did people worry so acutely about the business of others? How was she to work a nine-to-five job, exercise, sleep 8 hours per night, keep up with all of the injustice in the world as well as balance a social life? How could some people live swaddled in gluttony, while others lived in destitute poverty? What is a credit score? Everywhere she looked were new pressures and expectations that stood before the backdrop of a planet that seemed hell bent on its own destruction.
The EOP (End Of Pizza) saw to it that every one of these problems disappeared in one way or another, a phenomena that took her several months - but only months - to see the novelty of. Call it ignorance, call it a psychotic break; Liberty was finally living in a world that made sense to her and it didn’t take long for the dark cloud that hung low over her head to move along. There was no longer any reason to say things you didn’t mean or do things that didn’t make sense. All motivations boiled down to survival - and that made for easy math.
Although still a very calm and calculated woman, Liberty has found a certain light-heartedness in the midst of death and destruction. Fierce loyalty instilled in her by her father has made her a solid and reliable soldier, but the ever-present reality of death and suffering has made her touch more gentle, and her words more soft - even when behind the scope of a gun.
What’s the point in anger or bitterness, when everything could be over in the next minute?
- Traits
- Optimistic, kind, and genuine
- Raised by two traditional, southern fathers - kind, full of southern hospitality, but with all of the southern passive aggression as well
- Quick-tempered and stubborn with a tendency to waste time on trivial things.
- Quirks
- She has a certain customer service voice for dealing with strangers.
- When thinking, she often twirls her hair between her fingers.
- Although very little remains, Liberty has been on a very serious hunt for freeze-dried astronaut ice cream.
Liberty has never been married, and her last known relative is her father, Bill - now ill and being carefully cared for by the oh-so-generous NUSA.
Skills
~Although all of her pre-crash background in shooting came from hunting ducks, she’s spent the last six years working for the NUSA as a sharpshooter. Refining these skills in the days of limited ammunition was no easy task, she’s become an excellent shot - especially in moments of chaos.
~Liberty has a certain skill for figuring out what people want to hear, and delivering them just that to get what she wants. This skill was left over from her work pre-crash. Due to its manipulative nature, she doesn’t use it very often - but telling her that she’s rusty wouldn’t be recommended.
~Calm creativity in the face of disaster - but this sword is double-edged. Archer has spent most of her time up on rooftops and hidden in the hills, making ranged combat her strongest suit by far. Close combat is avoided at all costs, but the newfound quiet in her head and the absolute necessity of coming up with ways to hold your own when you’re the smallest person in the squadron has helped in the adaptation process. With a car battery, some wire, and a 2x4 she’ll do some pretty solid damage; but veering from the plan always holds its own set of dangers.
~Even in the end of times, Liberty is still a talented tracker and hunter.
Equipment
~On her person: Sniper rifle, canteen, sunglasses, a back brace, a small hand gun, two sets of dog tags reading "Archer, William Bennet" and "Sullivan, James Gregory"
~In her backpack/pockets: A few rolls of duct tape, a sharpie, several protein bars/wrappers, a Zippo lighter, an abridged paperback of “The Count of Monte Cristo”, a compact sleeping bag, a multi tool, a small collection of driver's licenses, several chapsticks, and ammunition shoved into any free crevice.
Faction
New USA
Backstory
Born to an absent biological mother who contributed little more than a cheesy first name, Liberty was raised by Bill and James Archer in a small townhouse in Asheville, North Carolina. From the day she came home as nothing more than a bowling ball-headed toddler, she was safe and cared for in the village created by Bill’s parents and extended family. Their entire lives revolved around birthdays, weekend cookouts, extracurriculars, and Sunday morning church. Liberty Jane grew up with a charmed life. As she aged, she both welcomed the performative nature of fawning over shitty potluck food and hated it at the same time. It was lying - sometimes the Mac n’ Cheese was downright crunchy - but she soon learned that lies were beneficial. Lies kept the peace, and they could be used softly to her advantage.
“You’re so funny.”
“Oh my god, I didn’t know that! Tell me more.”
“I think plaid socks are going to be the next big thing!”
After completing her first two years of college as a psychology major, Liberty had to transition her classes to remote learning and move into a small inner-city apartment. Liberty’s careful little white lies had become more than fulfilling - they’d become lucrative. While her tinder profile may have labelled her as an accountant, her reality was far more social. The young woman’s days consisted of morning runs with one client, brunch with the next, dinner with another, and hours upon hours of live streaming herself doing chores or studying a myriad of flashcards in one designated corner of her room. Clients could get the full tour, but they’d have to schedule it.
This one aspect of her life made sense. She made people happy, and in turn, they wanted to keep her housed and feed her love for high-end coffee. Days were long, the emotional labor was constant, and there was an emphasis on her body and the way that she looked at any given moment in time. There was give and take to being a workaholic in any industry, this one just looked different than the average office job. In the end, accounting was worth all the diets, all the uncomfortable situations she had to endure, being constantly attached to her phone for fear a client might call. For every five freaks, there was one person that she could connect with - one person she could make happy without sacrificing too much of herself.
In the long run, the drawbacks to her line of work, the desire to live differently than her cookie-cutter parents, and the constant pressures of the world weighed on her. Outside of work she became jaded and angry. Having to keep her phone on her at all times meant that she had constant reminders of all the injustice in the world that she could do nothing about. Corrupt politicians, Global warming, world hunger – she had a hard time keeping the things out of her hands compartmentalized. Living such a public life to an often obsessive audience meant that her private life and sensitive information was under constant threat. Leading a closely regimented life where she pretended to be some romanticized version of herself at any given point in time was a headache that anyone could relate to at one point of another, but meant that she was constantly exhausted, and constantly denying herself of the things she wanted.
The moral of this Saturday afternoon TV special had been narrated by Charlie Brown’s parents as far as LJ was concerned; but the facts were all the same. Too much of anything - even the things you love - leads to destruction.
When the world came to a grinding halt, Liberty had been holed up in her apartment for days, drowning herself in whiteclaws and surviving off of doordash. A gas stove to heat water for ramen and a constantly hungover aversion to light meant that she barely noticed when the deliveries stopped coming and the power went out. By the time she turned her phone back on, Asheville was a full week into hell and she was far too late. In all the madness, it would take her another week for her to make it across town to her family home, and another month to conclude that her village had all died or disappeared - all but Bill Archer. Bill and James were an older couple when they signed the paperwork to make Liberty an Archer. They were lovebirds in the mid 80’s that had gone quietly to change James’ surname to Archer after a small, informal, and nowhere near legally binding wedding on a boat off the coast of South Carolina with their chosen family. It would be 10 more years before Bill could bring James to family gatherings, and James would never hear from his own family again. As the rest of Bill’s folks warmed up, family would become their entire lives; only to be ripped away from them after a lifetime of cultivating an accepting kind of love and authenticity.
The death of his high school sweetheart left Bill as a shell of a human being. Liberty never went back to her apartment, instead keeping a close eye on Bill as he meandered through a new nothingness. They stayed in their family home for an entire year before nearby supplies had been picked clean. Bouncing from group to group would paint the landscape of the next few years before Bill fell ill and they found themselves trying to defend a small convenience store on their own. –That was when the NUSA got involved.
They had no option in their first visit to the local compound, but they had medicine, and children, and other old folks who had survived. Bill finally had a bit of life back in his eyes and to keep it, all Liberty had to do was keep shooting her gun. The math was simple. This made sense. It wasn’t long before Liberty was sorted into a squadron and sent out into the hellscape for this or that - some runs were made for supplies, some for recruiting by any means necessary, and others she had little to know information on. It didn’t matter. In one way or another, she was helping people - she was keeping her father happy.
Before long, the hellscape became reassuring. Orders were vague, but she always knew what she was meant to be doing. There was only a small handful of people that she had to keep the interests of in mind. Better yet, anything neat she found while rifling through dilapidated buildings was hers to keep, and she never had to wear itchy underwear again. Protect your people, stay focused, and complete your mission. Easy enough, right? –Only when you developed the new single mindedness that Liberty came to love.
This didn’t mean that life venturing into the west wasn’t still hard. Many good soldiers had been lost, many civilians mowed down, all in the name of keeping the peace and making the NUSA more powerful. The most recent assignment to deliver a truck as well as a few lucky souls as backup to a base called “The Mall” was no different.
That was, up until the last leg of the journey. Instead of a small caravan with the company of 15 sets of hands, Liberty Archer arrived at the base two weeks late, by herself, on foot, and with little to show for it but two black eyes and a fresh scar across her face.
Solar Daddy
Synthetic Nightmare
Name: Olivia Pike
Gender: Female
Age: 31
Appearance:
Picture 2 & 3 (Outfit/Style while traveling):
Personality:
Traits
Impulsive - Olivia finds herself daring to do risky jobs or dangerous activities for fun, more often than not. Despite being the leader of her own retinue, she would throw herself in on raids and missions whenever she felt like it.
Willing - Olivia can be the first pick for anything requiring excessive force. As long as it's interesting, Olivia would happily swing a bat at the nearest threat free of charge.
Unrelenting - Olivia is a persistent figure in both combat and social events. Whether it's keeping stamina to kill zombies all night, or entertaining a group with daring stories, Olivia has enough energy to uplift those around her.
Easily bored - Olivia doesn't do well on guard duty. She's best paired with a vanguard or raiding party.
Social - Olivia possesses social tact that draws others to her. She's also quick to forgive most mistakes, as long as she can give you a hard time about it for a while.
Skills:
Equipment:
Faction: Bandits. Olivia leads a considerable group that’s crossed through many territories and expanded rapidly over the past few months. Olivia’s leadership has no doubt helped in the recruitment efforts, as she is both charismatic and induces fear in subordinates.
Marital/Familial Status: Olivia in a complicated relationship, which seems to change daily. She has family in the East, though she’s refused contact with them for a while now. She enjoyed the thrill of apocalyptic living too much to go back to a mundane existence.
Backstory:
Olivia was seldom seen in one spot growing up. Her parents needed to check the trees she’d climb, the attic she’d explore, the nearby streets she was bound to go down. She was a hyper child and an equally hyper teenager and young adult. Throughout her entire time in school, she’d be the one who tried every sport offered to her; track was too dull, running in one direction and no real challenge. Tennis had too little movement. Basketball had too much team play. This went on and on as Olivia tried to find something to keep her entertained and get her energy out. Eventually she settled on swimming; sure, it was just as dull as running, but at least her whole body was moving constantly. The added thrill of death being so near if she ever stopped moving also helped. She became proficient at the sport, and further fueled her interest by taking up scuba lessons when she had the time.
In her young adult life, she’d regularly visit the indoor pool by her home and swim laps, test her ability to hold her breath, and so on. When she wasn’t in the water, Olivia was helping her mother run a small computer business in Seattle, a short drive from her home in the suburbs. Olivia bonded with her mother during those years, something she looks back on fondly. However, she didn’t get much time during this epoch of her life before the Crash happened. Olivia was at her parent’s home, as usual, watching their dog while her parents worked. When a car crashed into her living room, Olivia went completely survivalist mode. She secured herself in the kitchen, boarding up any windows and blocking any doorways she could. Olivia prayed her parents would return soon with an escape plan.
When no one arrived days later, Olivia feared the worst, and began making runs from her fortified position to search nearby homes for supplies or survivors. Concrete, her trusty canine, went with her on these missions and helped keep Olivia alive. During this time, she raided her father’s stash and secured the M9 he kept. At first, she told herself, it was to keep others from stealing it. Of course, she knew she’d eventually need to defend herself.
Things persisted like this for a few years, with Olivia learning to survive alongside Concrete in various survivor refugee camps or strongholds. It seemed Olivia lived on repeat for a while; she’d find a new group, somebody made a mistake, the group was overrun, and Olivia would just barely escape with her life. It took a while for her to develop the crude but humorous shell she donned a few years into the apocalypse. With how often she seemed to need to meet new survivors, it was prevalent she stepped up her social game and learned how to manipulate and make appearances as needed. Of course, she also proved her worth by volunteering for dangerous supply runs. Olivia had finally found the fix for her adrenaline need. Narrowly escaping death day in and day out provided a unique comfort for her.
Fast forward a few years later, and Olivia was a prominent member of a bad crowd near Seattle. They’d raid others, steal supplies, or even kill off competing enclaves if they seemed too ambitious. For a while, Olivia had it made. She could regularly get whatever kind of daredevil fix she needed while also being surrounded by a group that genuinely cared for her. Eventually, when the previous leader died off, Olivia was crowned the next in line. While in charge, Olivia kept her group thriving as well as she could, despite the high death toll for such a clan. They were bandits, through and through, Olivia didn’t pretend otherwise. But it was a cozy life, and she had everything she needed.
Eventually, the group expanded to a point where colonies became a very real possibility. Not just one central group that could be targeted, but separate, united cities, ready to support the betterment of the gang - Olivia’s gang. She was in the process of stepping up, from a warlord to a queen. During the initial ventures, Olivia remained near Seattle, but soon the efforts in establishing a distant vassal became something Olivia wanted to command first-hand. She appointed her second in command to lead while she was absent, and trekked across the wasteland to the new colony; Minneapolis. The city itself was brought to rubble during the initial outbreak, but the surrounding suburbs were nearly untouched. An abandoned Target would do nicely as their starting operation; Olivia even went the extra mile and ordered a throne built. She was going to enjoy every second of leading this brave, new vassal.
Gender: Female
Age: 31
Appearance:
- Weight: 140 lbs
- Height: 5’5"
- Build: Average
- Skin Color: Medium
- Hair Color: Natural brunette, dyed blond (roots clearly show)
- Eye Color: Green
- Outfits/Normal Clothing: Olivia wears an assortment of casual clothing that's often on rotation depending on the time of year. She's most often seen with some kind of tough outerwear to protect from inclimate weather and blunt force. She also tends to tape magazines to her wrists when she plans on fighting Casualties for added bite protection.
- Distinctive Features:
- Olivia has a small cut along her lip and her nose is a bit bent from being broken.
- She also has a deep scar along her left side.
Picture 2 & 3 (Outfit/Style while traveling):
Personality:
Traits
Impulsive - Olivia finds herself daring to do risky jobs or dangerous activities for fun, more often than not. Despite being the leader of her own retinue, she would throw herself in on raids and missions whenever she felt like it.
Willing - Olivia can be the first pick for anything requiring excessive force. As long as it's interesting, Olivia would happily swing a bat at the nearest threat free of charge.
Unrelenting - Olivia is a persistent figure in both combat and social events. Whether it's keeping stamina to kill zombies all night, or entertaining a group with daring stories, Olivia has enough energy to uplift those around her.
Easily bored - Olivia doesn't do well on guard duty. She's best paired with a vanguard or raiding party.
Social - Olivia possesses social tact that draws others to her. She's also quick to forgive most mistakes, as long as she can give you a hard time about it for a while.
- Peculiarities
- Olivia is impossible to keep in one place at a time. She will never stop moving if she can help it, including pacing, air-drumming, or any manner of tapping.
- Olivia is rarely seen without her earphones and MP3. She'd more than likely throw herself from the roof of the nearest building if either of them (or her solar charger) broke.
- Mental State
- Olivia has some minor problems she's working on, but overall is of sound mind.
- Description
- Pike, once a prominent leader of a radical group near Seattle, has taken on just about every role possible in the apocalypse. From grunt, to farmer, to bandit, to bait, Olivia has some experience in most things. She mostly enjoys any kind of combat, since it keeps her adrenaline up. For most of her time after the Crash, Olivia was a hired gun who often went after bounties. She eventually found herself as a bandit queen on the outskirts of the ruins of Seattle, staying in charge for about a year or two. Now she's looking to keep close to the Mall after her group was finished.
Skills:
- Olivia's expertise is killing Casualties, through and through. Though she has experience in fighting humans, her preference is caving in the skull of every last Zeke she sees.
- Whatever doesn't kill Olivia tends to make her stronger. She's quite the survivalist and has made her way out of impossible odds from time to time. If there's a way to survive, Olivia will find it.
- Pike is great at coming up with ideas on the spot, but isn't good at sticking to a plan. She is at her best when in the moment, needing to make a split second decision.
- Olivia is fluent in German, though she is a bit rusty with her second language.
- Olivia excels at persuasion and general social skills. She's particularly excellent at stalling.
Equipment:
- Olivia doesn’t possess any rifles, and keeps mostly to her M9. It’s not flashy or extravagant, but it works well for her and she has experience with it.
- She also keeps a fireman’s axe for killing Casualties and people alike. It’s rusted mostly, but she tries to keep the edge as pristine as possible.
- Pike also keeps magazines on her wrists for added protection from bites most of the time.
- Her boots have screws dug into the front for extra kicking potential.
- Olivia also carries a respirator from time to time in the off chance she encounters a spot she doesn’t want to breathe unfiltered air.
- Various hats such as baseball caps and beanies to keep her hair up and out of her face whenever she needs it.
- A small backpack carrying various trinkets, foodstuffs and other quality of life items.
Faction: Bandits. Olivia leads a considerable group that’s crossed through many territories and expanded rapidly over the past few months. Olivia’s leadership has no doubt helped in the recruitment efforts, as she is both charismatic and induces fear in subordinates.
Marital/Familial Status: Olivia in a complicated relationship, which seems to change daily. She has family in the East, though she’s refused contact with them for a while now. She enjoyed the thrill of apocalyptic living too much to go back to a mundane existence.
Backstory:
Olivia was seldom seen in one spot growing up. Her parents needed to check the trees she’d climb, the attic she’d explore, the nearby streets she was bound to go down. She was a hyper child and an equally hyper teenager and young adult. Throughout her entire time in school, she’d be the one who tried every sport offered to her; track was too dull, running in one direction and no real challenge. Tennis had too little movement. Basketball had too much team play. This went on and on as Olivia tried to find something to keep her entertained and get her energy out. Eventually she settled on swimming; sure, it was just as dull as running, but at least her whole body was moving constantly. The added thrill of death being so near if she ever stopped moving also helped. She became proficient at the sport, and further fueled her interest by taking up scuba lessons when she had the time.
In her young adult life, she’d regularly visit the indoor pool by her home and swim laps, test her ability to hold her breath, and so on. When she wasn’t in the water, Olivia was helping her mother run a small computer business in Seattle, a short drive from her home in the suburbs. Olivia bonded with her mother during those years, something she looks back on fondly. However, she didn’t get much time during this epoch of her life before the Crash happened. Olivia was at her parent’s home, as usual, watching their dog while her parents worked. When a car crashed into her living room, Olivia went completely survivalist mode. She secured herself in the kitchen, boarding up any windows and blocking any doorways she could. Olivia prayed her parents would return soon with an escape plan.
When no one arrived days later, Olivia feared the worst, and began making runs from her fortified position to search nearby homes for supplies or survivors. Concrete, her trusty canine, went with her on these missions and helped keep Olivia alive. During this time, she raided her father’s stash and secured the M9 he kept. At first, she told herself, it was to keep others from stealing it. Of course, she knew she’d eventually need to defend herself.
Things persisted like this for a few years, with Olivia learning to survive alongside Concrete in various survivor refugee camps or strongholds. It seemed Olivia lived on repeat for a while; she’d find a new group, somebody made a mistake, the group was overrun, and Olivia would just barely escape with her life. It took a while for her to develop the crude but humorous shell she donned a few years into the apocalypse. With how often she seemed to need to meet new survivors, it was prevalent she stepped up her social game and learned how to manipulate and make appearances as needed. Of course, she also proved her worth by volunteering for dangerous supply runs. Olivia had finally found the fix for her adrenaline need. Narrowly escaping death day in and day out provided a unique comfort for her.
Fast forward a few years later, and Olivia was a prominent member of a bad crowd near Seattle. They’d raid others, steal supplies, or even kill off competing enclaves if they seemed too ambitious. For a while, Olivia had it made. She could regularly get whatever kind of daredevil fix she needed while also being surrounded by a group that genuinely cared for her. Eventually, when the previous leader died off, Olivia was crowned the next in line. While in charge, Olivia kept her group thriving as well as she could, despite the high death toll for such a clan. They were bandits, through and through, Olivia didn’t pretend otherwise. But it was a cozy life, and she had everything she needed.
Eventually, the group expanded to a point where colonies became a very real possibility. Not just one central group that could be targeted, but separate, united cities, ready to support the betterment of the gang - Olivia’s gang. She was in the process of stepping up, from a warlord to a queen. During the initial ventures, Olivia remained near Seattle, but soon the efforts in establishing a distant vassal became something Olivia wanted to command first-hand. She appointed her second in command to lead while she was absent, and trekked across the wasteland to the new colony; Minneapolis. The city itself was brought to rubble during the initial outbreak, but the surrounding suburbs were nearly untouched. An abandoned Target would do nicely as their starting operation; Olivia even went the extra mile and ordered a throne built. She was going to enjoy every second of leading this brave, new vassal.
Hyped_Taco
Pierce the heavens
Name: Cletus Huckleberry
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Appearance:
Personality: Although known by people who know him as sometimes being temperamental and with a short amount of patience, Cletus at heart is a kind man who cares deeply for those close to him, if not a bit overprotective of them at times. While not particularly known for being the sharpest tool in the shed, Cletus is by no means an idiot; he’s rather observant of his surroundings, and when the situation arises his quick wit is enough to keep him as far away from danger as possible. The apocalypse is no place for slouches, and after having survived 8 years in post-apocalyptic America, he’s been shaped into being a productive man with enough determination to surpass almost any obstacle that either threatens him or his loved ones.
If an apocalypse is not enough to make a man cautious then nothing else will. While Cletus does not enjoy backing down from a fight, he recognizes that head on conflicts are not particularly one of his strengths; if possible, he personally prefers to take precautions before heading into conflict, to either improve his chances of victory or at least permit him to have enough time to escape unharmed.
Other than that, Cletus is a simple man with the simple wish of keeping his family out of harm, and if to accomplish that he needs to join the military of a police state, then so be it.
Marital/Familial Status: Married to his high school sweetheart, Dixie, with whom he has a two year old child, along with more than two dozen living relatives all currently residing on the eastern side of the Mississippi, under the safety of the NUSA.
Skills:
Equipment: Standard Issue DHQS Agent Gear, including:
Faction: NUSA
Backstory:
Born in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Alabama, 2005, Cletus spent most of his early life in the countryside, leaving to visit town only every so often. His parents were the proud owners of the Huckleberry farm; lands that had been passed down father to son for as many generations as anyone could remember. Cletus was homeschooled for most of his early life, mostly so he could work the fields with his father. While his parents did their best to educate him, they were not the most intellectual adults around, and so his schooling was basic at best. Yet the older that Cletus got, the less farmlife started to appeal to him. Against his parents wishes, Cletus decided to attend public school once he reached 16, being allowed to do so only by his parents begrudgingly agreeing to it as long as he still fulfilled his duties at the farm after school.
Balancing his farm and school life proved to be difficult, with Cletus struggling to keep up with the amount of duties that school added to his already overfilled schedule. And although he learned many things during his time at school, Cletus’s reason for being there quickly shifted from simple education to love. Maybe it was due to spending most of his time on the farm and not being exposed to many other girls his age, but on his first day at school, he was smitten by Dixie Reed immediately. And with that, no matter how much homework nor farm duties he had to do each day, Cletus considered it to be worth it just to see her again each and every following day.
It took a while before the girl warmed up to Cletus, and even longer before she took him up on his offer for a date, but after that event, Dixie and Cletus became as inseparable as apple is to pie. As Cletus kept approaching his 18th birthday school started to become a bit too much for Cletus to keep up with, and as such decided that once he graduated he would drop any further studies and join the military. His plan was to get away from his small town in Alabama, make some money, and eventually be able to find a new place for Dixie and himself to settle down. But alas, it seemed like the world had other plans.
For weeks there had already been rumors of seemingly random spurts of violence of previously well-conducted individuals coming from what seemed to be all the big cities in the states and abroad; eventually, these rumors turned into news, and soon after that the news of these events went from being on national news to local. His dad blamed the liberals for it.
Months before he could graduate, Cletus was forced back to his family home, with Dixie and nearby family members of both of them in tow, to keep away from the vectors and casualties, in an attempt to bunker down while the world went back to normal. Unfortunately for them, normality would not return. Their parents were God fearing christians, and so, even without any court to legalize it, Cletus and Dixie were wed on the farm a year after the outbreak started. They lived there as happily as one can in a post apocalyptic scenario. Cletus, as one of the younger able bodied men in both families, was usually one of the ones sent to the outskirts of town to loot for any resources lacking back at the farm.
Six years into the outbreak Dixie gave birth to Liam, and blessed Cletus with a son. For once since the world had gone to hell, it finally seemed like things might be looking up for the Huckleberry family.
However, in true ironic fashion, it was shortly after that that Cletus and his family had the misfortune of running into a group of wandering meek on one of their hunting trips in the woods. An attempt was made by the Huckleberry’s to communicate with the meek as they had done with previous groups that had passed through the land, yet this quickly turned into a violent skirmish between the two groups. Soon after Cletus and the surviving members of this encounter managed to return to the farm to report what had happened, they were quick to realize that in their careless retreat they were unable to notice that they had been followed back home.
They fought hard to defend the land, but no matter how many times they were able to repeal them back, they kept coming back. Day by day casualties kept mounting on both groups, yet it seemed that the resolve of their attackers only strengthened.
By day three of this conflict, the Huckleberry and Reed’s family realized that with their weakening defenses and resolve, this would only result in their complete annihilation. As such, a plan ended up being drafted by the families to evacuate the farm. If they all tried to leave they would be quickly noticed and followed, so it was decided that people would have to be left behind to buy time for the rest. Cletus at first tried to protest against this proposal, but once this failed he attempted to volunteer for the job himself. Only after a lenghty discussion did he back down, due to several family members of both families and Dixie arguing for him to escape, for Liam’s sake they said.
The group left the farm before sunrise by foot; gas had expired years ago, and the few horses they did have were used to either carry whatever meager supplies the group had time to organize before their exodus or to carry the family's youngest. Hours into their journey for a short time the faint sound of a firefight could be heard from in the distance
After a lot of hard travel and close calls they were lucky enough to stumble upon a NUSA outpost. They offered sanctuary to the families, Cletus, Dixie and their child. A year after the attack, out of duty and gratitude, Cletus signed on to join the NUSA army, to provide for his family and to ensure their home would never be taken from them again.
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Appearance:
- Weight: 170 lb
- Height: 5'11
- Build: Slim, fit
- Skin Color: Naturally fair, albeit slightly tanned
- Hair Color: Dark brown
- Eye Color: Brown
- Outfits/Normal Clothing: Due to having recently joined the military, Cletus usually wears his NUSA army uniform at all times to avoid reprimands. Although, If given the chance he would quickly return to using jeans, boots and his characteristic short sleeve gingham shirt.
- Cletus has a tattoo on his left shoulder. Usually prefers not to show it to people due to him being embarrassed about it.
- Scar on the left side of his chest.
- Daily usage of his wedding ring
- Most southern accent you’ve ever heard
Personality: Although known by people who know him as sometimes being temperamental and with a short amount of patience, Cletus at heart is a kind man who cares deeply for those close to him, if not a bit overprotective of them at times. While not particularly known for being the sharpest tool in the shed, Cletus is by no means an idiot; he’s rather observant of his surroundings, and when the situation arises his quick wit is enough to keep him as far away from danger as possible. The apocalypse is no place for slouches, and after having survived 8 years in post-apocalyptic America, he’s been shaped into being a productive man with enough determination to surpass almost any obstacle that either threatens him or his loved ones.
If an apocalypse is not enough to make a man cautious then nothing else will. While Cletus does not enjoy backing down from a fight, he recognizes that head on conflicts are not particularly one of his strengths; if possible, he personally prefers to take precautions before heading into conflict, to either improve his chances of victory or at least permit him to have enough time to escape unharmed.
Other than that, Cletus is a simple man with the simple wish of keeping his family out of harm, and if to accomplish that he needs to join the military of a police state, then so be it.
- Traits: Lighthearted, kind, short tempered, cautious,
- Peculiarities:
- Will start a debate if California is brought into the conversation.
- Will throw hands if you try to take a peek at the tattoo in his left arm
Marital/Familial Status: Married to his high school sweetheart, Dixie, with whom he has a two year old child, along with more than two dozen living relatives all currently residing on the eastern side of the Mississippi, under the safety of the NUSA.
Skills:
- Farmer.
- Firearms.
- Basic survival skills.
- Limited carpentry knowledge.
- Hunting and fishing.
- Booby traps.
- Scouting
- Stealth
- Horse riding.
Equipment: Standard Issue DHQS Agent Gear, including:
Faction: NUSA
Backstory:
Born in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Alabama, 2005, Cletus spent most of his early life in the countryside, leaving to visit town only every so often. His parents were the proud owners of the Huckleberry farm; lands that had been passed down father to son for as many generations as anyone could remember. Cletus was homeschooled for most of his early life, mostly so he could work the fields with his father. While his parents did their best to educate him, they were not the most intellectual adults around, and so his schooling was basic at best. Yet the older that Cletus got, the less farmlife started to appeal to him. Against his parents wishes, Cletus decided to attend public school once he reached 16, being allowed to do so only by his parents begrudgingly agreeing to it as long as he still fulfilled his duties at the farm after school.
Balancing his farm and school life proved to be difficult, with Cletus struggling to keep up with the amount of duties that school added to his already overfilled schedule. And although he learned many things during his time at school, Cletus’s reason for being there quickly shifted from simple education to love. Maybe it was due to spending most of his time on the farm and not being exposed to many other girls his age, but on his first day at school, he was smitten by Dixie Reed immediately. And with that, no matter how much homework nor farm duties he had to do each day, Cletus considered it to be worth it just to see her again each and every following day.
It took a while before the girl warmed up to Cletus, and even longer before she took him up on his offer for a date, but after that event, Dixie and Cletus became as inseparable as apple is to pie. As Cletus kept approaching his 18th birthday school started to become a bit too much for Cletus to keep up with, and as such decided that once he graduated he would drop any further studies and join the military. His plan was to get away from his small town in Alabama, make some money, and eventually be able to find a new place for Dixie and himself to settle down. But alas, it seemed like the world had other plans.
For weeks there had already been rumors of seemingly random spurts of violence of previously well-conducted individuals coming from what seemed to be all the big cities in the states and abroad; eventually, these rumors turned into news, and soon after that the news of these events went from being on national news to local. His dad blamed the liberals for it.
Months before he could graduate, Cletus was forced back to his family home, with Dixie and nearby family members of both of them in tow, to keep away from the vectors and casualties, in an attempt to bunker down while the world went back to normal. Unfortunately for them, normality would not return. Their parents were God fearing christians, and so, even without any court to legalize it, Cletus and Dixie were wed on the farm a year after the outbreak started. They lived there as happily as one can in a post apocalyptic scenario. Cletus, as one of the younger able bodied men in both families, was usually one of the ones sent to the outskirts of town to loot for any resources lacking back at the farm.
Six years into the outbreak Dixie gave birth to Liam, and blessed Cletus with a son. For once since the world had gone to hell, it finally seemed like things might be looking up for the Huckleberry family.
However, in true ironic fashion, it was shortly after that that Cletus and his family had the misfortune of running into a group of wandering meek on one of their hunting trips in the woods. An attempt was made by the Huckleberry’s to communicate with the meek as they had done with previous groups that had passed through the land, yet this quickly turned into a violent skirmish between the two groups. Soon after Cletus and the surviving members of this encounter managed to return to the farm to report what had happened, they were quick to realize that in their careless retreat they were unable to notice that they had been followed back home.
They fought hard to defend the land, but no matter how many times they were able to repeal them back, they kept coming back. Day by day casualties kept mounting on both groups, yet it seemed that the resolve of their attackers only strengthened.
By day three of this conflict, the Huckleberry and Reed’s family realized that with their weakening defenses and resolve, this would only result in their complete annihilation. As such, a plan ended up being drafted by the families to evacuate the farm. If they all tried to leave they would be quickly noticed and followed, so it was decided that people would have to be left behind to buy time for the rest. Cletus at first tried to protest against this proposal, but once this failed he attempted to volunteer for the job himself. Only after a lenghty discussion did he back down, due to several family members of both families and Dixie arguing for him to escape, for Liam’s sake they said.
The group left the farm before sunrise by foot; gas had expired years ago, and the few horses they did have were used to either carry whatever meager supplies the group had time to organize before their exodus or to carry the family's youngest. Hours into their journey for a short time the faint sound of a firefight could be heard from in the distance
After a lot of hard travel and close calls they were lucky enough to stumble upon a NUSA outpost. They offered sanctuary to the families, Cletus, Dixie and their child. A year after the attack, out of duty and gratitude, Cletus signed on to join the NUSA army, to provide for his family and to ensure their home would never be taken from them again.
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