Turk Goodwyn

[JokerValentine]

NAME: Travis "Turk" F. Goodwyn
AGE: 35
GENDER: Male
FACTION: Tower
APPEARANCE: 5'11, 145 pounds. Light build, not at all muscular but rather agile. No visible limps or skeletal anomalies. He has several scars, some of which will be elaborated upon later. Most of these scars are not noticeable, as his clothing choice serves to cover them up as best as he can.

PERSONALITY
Turk's personality is rather dependent on the situation. He can come across as rather dishonest, telling others what they want too hear if they do not know him well. He will sometimes treat them with a loathsome sense of cordiality, where it may be interpreted as flattery. To those who get to know him well, his honesty is more apparent. He cares for the survival of those who associate with him first and foremost. Consider it a cynical outlook on altruism: there is none to begin with, as we always help those that don't help us, but that are more similar to us in any way shape or form.

He tends to act like a scholar, reciting some wisdom that infer to be correct. But as one can imagine for obvious reasons, he is not one to pick up a phone and Google the answer. Probably because there are no phones to begin. with, but that's a moot point. When he talks he tends to be rather reserved, but he is neither shy nor quiet. He likes to smile as he talks, maintain eye contact confidently as he addresses someone. However, the smile seldom stays long. His greatest fault, perhaps fear, is being alone. Words are what keep him alive, whether he is addressed, addressing someone, or seeing one address another. It's a reminder what humanity was, what remains of our "progress" as a species.

Turk's downfall is surely hinging on his lack of clear-cut morality. He will gladly follow all Tower prerogatives, as surely it keeps him safe and keeps his mind in a preferential state. However, he does not necessarily agree with them. He does not think that frequently-dispensed mercy is the way things work anymore. There is no fairytale ending. Life is not a ladder, it is a treadmill, and only by ensuring you come first by keeping up with its ever-changing pace is the best way to live.

BACKGROUND
Towns, cities, schools, their names are long gone and he has surely forgotten them. What can be told is that he was born at a place at a certain time 30 or so years ago. To his recollection the place where he was born was small. He had limited schooling due to his parents' inability to run the family business, so he was forced to work for the family restaurant as a busboy. At least business was good, to that respect. By this point he was around the age of fifteen, and around this time his mother's health worsened due to a genetic issue, or so his father put it. She did manage to live a few more years, until three years later she did die. At the age of 18 he enrolled at a community college to get somewhat of an education.

By the age of 21 he had gotten good enough grades to graduate from the three-year program. He bounced from job to job as a mechanic, then a store clerk, then a waiter, until he worked as a farmer out of the ways. His father was rather healthy for the most part, but preferred the city life. They did not talk too much, though saw one another every other Christmas. That was about as close as they got, as gas was never cheap and money was hard to come by for either of them. At the age of 27, still in the thralls of his framework (and sometimes working as a mailman for the county), he found himself infatuated with a local woman by the name of Maureen... or Mabel... she was nice enough at least. It didn't last long between them, as it always does. However, after a few months he moved on to a girl by the name of Clarissa.

Life was good for them. The two got along well, and remained close all throughout the years. They were together for about four or so years, until after a long day's work Turk went inside to recuperate. There was the blaring of something on the television, a high-pitched whine that made his brain boil, his hands tremble, his mouth foam up (or so he exaggerates). The point is that something severe happened to his head on account of the sound, and in retrospect he had experience this before. Higher pitched noises had often caused him to have blurry vision, dizziness, sometimes nausea. Though this noise was enough to cause him to lose consciousness.

I'll recount briefly as to why this is the case, as I did promise to explain his supposed scars. When he was 16, the motor of one of the dishwasher equipment had a malfunction. Improper care had caused part of the engine to blow out with a loud eruption. The echoing nature of the room amplified the sound for the poor busboy, causing his eardrum in one ear to partially rupture. If that wasn't bad enough, parts of the engine struck him in the shoulder and face. He has three scars from this incident, two that are hidden by his shirt, and one that is visible just above his zygomatic.

But let us return to the apocalypse. He was left alone in the sands of time, no Clarissa, just the clothes he had worn and the name that hung loosely around him like a sheet on. a clothesline in the midst of a tornado. He couldn't really remember what the purpose of remembering his name was. He had forgotten his middle name, and so he added a word that began with the letter F. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, despite him giving himself that middle name 700 or so days ago he cannot for the life of him recall it. It's unknown to him entirely.

Turk knew he would not make it on his own, and everything he ever suspected was that people survive best in groups. Though there were no groups he had found in the first few months that lasted long. Groups routinely fell apart, and as resources dried up people cared less and less of being accepting, of carrying dead weight. This give-and-go lifestyle, of bouncing from one place to the next, surviving on what could be salvaged from the earth, it lasted for roughly a year. He lost a lot of weight from his previously gluttonous lifestyle, but there would soon be hope. By the 13th month of his survival, well according to my calculations, as Turk himself would not know such, he heard rumors of an up and coming revival of humanity. Tower. At last there was hope to be safe from the plight.

He turned his attention towards locating them, and since they were a newer organization they were readily accepting of his character. He remembers impressing the Seven by stating he had experience as a farmer, and that if it pleased them he may attend to their understaffed horticulture so as to create a subsistence based community. After some debate, he was allowed to stay, and since that time he has indeed remained. With limited knowledge of the scavengers, his opinion of them rely mostly on the people of Tower and what they have seen.

STRENGTHS/FLAWS
>>> List UP TO 3 strengths and flaws (at least 1 mental and 1 physical for each)<<<

1. Quick on his feet, and surely more agile than his age entails.
2.Acute at scouting, though not in full mastery of it.
3. He has the ability to come to a conclusion fast and think of a plausible solution.

1. Is not a friend to all, not even in his own group.
2. Highly sensitive to high-pitched and loud noises.
3. Poor memory, very acute to forgetting things if he is not paying full attention.

SKILLS
1. He is a talented writer and storyteller, to those lucky enough to have heard some of the stories he has come up with.
2. He has a developing interest in animal rearing, to go along with his interest in horticulture as previously mentioned.
3. He can shoot a bow and arrow decently, but can craft arrow shafts even better.