Originally Posted by Griphun
Good CONCEPT but I'd like a lot more detail in regards to tools and background.
Not to mention that by Today's standards Lugers are obscenely rare; not to mention prone to seriously fouling when exposed to mud, grit, and sand. Not to mention a rather anemic magazine capacity.
I'll modify it, sorry about that. I kind of threw it together after work.
no worries
Name: Seven
Age: 19
Occupation: Scavenger & Thief
Appearance: This woman makes you think of a clever fox. She has large eyes the color of weathered jade. Her orange-red hair is buzz-cut short. She is short, thin beanpole with tanned skin and knobby ears.
Seven wears a hard hat painted flat tan, a blue bandana on her head and another around her neck, a tan sleeveless shirt, a brown leather vest with tire treads for shoulder pads, tire tread arm guards, brown drawstring breeches, tan seatbelt straps pinned and wrapped around her legs and feet, and tire sandals. A thick leather belt holds a belt knife and a holster for a dark blued Taurus Judge revolver.
Equipment:
Flint, short length of hacksaw blade & key ring compass on neck cord
Deerskin water bola
Deerskin bag with seat belt strap
Jerky
Pemmican
Small plastic coffee can filled with milkweed fluff, strips of birch bark, flint, a prescription eyeglass lens wrapped in a square of leather, and two votive candles.
Drawstring pouch holding a spool of heavy thread, two fishing hooks, one straight and one curved needle.
Drawstring pouch holding .45 colt rounds.
Drawstring pouch holding .410 shotgun shells.
Drawstring pouch holding $15.75 in state quarters.
Sierra cup, carved spoon, fork, swiss army knife, small whetstone.
3 wire snares
5 Bandanas
Handwoven patched blanket poncho - wrapped in deerskin and tied onto a loop of seat belt strap. A patch hides her spare set of lock picks and another handcuff key.
Lock picks hidden under her right arm guard
Handcuff key sewn into the back of her breeches.
Weapons: 3" blue Taurus Judge revolver (.45 colt & .410 shotgun shell), Bow and arrows in a quiver, belt knife.
Background: Sara's mom picked her up at school that fateful December afternoon. On the way home, brilliant lights filled the sky - then everyone's cars died. So did the cell phones. Just as it was getting dark and cold, a convoy appeared of school busses and army men. They took Sara and her mom to a rendervous point, but while Mom was out looking to see if Dad had made it with, the Army men came and swept up people to send to one of the refugee camps and Sara was dragged along with them.
In the camp, they put her with the other lost children. As the days past and no relief appeared, Mr. Eckland began using the kids to steal food and small things from the others in camp.
Then one day Howard appeared in the camp. At first people thought he was an army guy because he wore body armor like them, but he was actually a survivalist. He sought out Mr. Eckland and traded seven packs of cigarettes for Sara, telling Mr. Eckland he was looking for a skinny kid.
Back in his truck, Howard told her, "You cost me seven packs, kid." Seven became her new name. He would take her out scavenging, looking for anything he could possibly sell or barter with. Collapsed buildings were lest likely to be looted in his opinion, so he'd send her inside any opening with only a small knife to protect her from any animals who might be using it as a den. Later, he'd leave her locked up in his bunker while he went to barter for drinks. She spent the time reading his survival books and practicing the skills.
Things came to a head one winter when she was 15. They were both cooped up inside the house. He drank, she cleaned and talked. Seven never noticed how angry Howard was becoming until he suddenly screamed in a drunken rage for her to shut up and knocked her down. When she woke up in pain hours later, she discovered to her horror that Howard had cut her tongue out. She knew then that she needed to leave him.
She waited until spring. By then, he was chaining her to the wall - but she'd learned how to pick locks from his books and had made her own lock picks. Taking only a few things and some food, she left.
A car with the right sort of tires gave her after two days' work a workable pair of sandals and enough seat belt straps to wrap around her legs and feet to protect them.
She found her way back to the Camps. Mr. Eckland was long gone, but some of the other kids she remembered from the beginning were still there. Seven was happy for a while, but saw Howard a month later prowling around the camp. She stole some supplies and ran for the hills.
Seven found a good camp spot, small and screened by trees, easily defended and near a stream. She carved a bow and some arrows, then strung it with sinew from rabbits she caught in snares. With some practice, she managed to take down a few deer. The hides she tanned. The meat she couldn't eat fresh she smoked and dried.
However, as winter approached, she gave thought to a better shelter so began looking for a more secure shelter. She found a few caves but kept looking. A mine shaft however proved to have a few more surprises - she ventured inside only to get jumped by two men who wrestled her to the ground and handcuffed her. They took her bow and her belt knife and dragged her deeper into the mine - and that's she was her introduction to the Reverent Tiller and his 'congregation' of hard core survivalists. They were not glad to see her.
Like Howard, they believed the Dark Times were coming so they had prepared. But they hadn't quite expected the flare. Still, they had managed to fix their water-wheel generators and had working lights and electric heaters to make the mine more livable. After their doctor gave her a very thorough examination, she was brought into the meeting room where they removed the handcuffs and sat her down on the dais with Reverend Tiller. They brought her hot food and coffee, then watched as she uncomfortably ate. Reverend Tiller asked if she could write, and she nodded, so they gave her a small white board and a dry erase marker and began asking her questions. Mostly about the conditions outside, but the Reverend was particularly interested in her. When they were done, they took away the white board and locked her up in a storeroom while they decided what they were going to do with her. But they hadn't found Seven's lock picks.
A locked cabinet was filled with guns and ammo. She picked out a Taurus Judge Revolver as small and easy to conceal, along with a few boxes of ammo, some extra handcuff keys and other supplies to replace her stolen gear, then escaped. She was under no illusions about what Reverend Tiller and his hidden crazies might do if he caught her again, so broke camp and struck out looking for someplace better, and has been roving ever since.
Additional Notes: none
Last edited by Enigma; 02-26-2012 at 07:28 AM.
Spoiler: ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ √Ăłł Єѵïł ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
Really great character Enigma, accepted
Thanks! ^ _ ^
Spoiler: ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ √Ăłł Єѵïł ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
I'm going to bump this
Well, I'll bump with a character of my own!
Hope that he's okay.
Name: Adam Sanson
Age: 32
Occupation: Judge, guard and executioner
Appearance: If pressed to describe Adam in a word, most that know him would answer with ‘rough’. A Texas man through and through, the young judge looks as though he stepped straight out of an early Marlborough’s ad both in body type and apparel. His face is full of rough angles, a hewn chin and nose, nearly grey eyes sunken back into his head, a shortly trimmed head of dirty blonde hair completing the slight ‘cowboy’ image that he had grown into. Not helping that image was his choice of clothing, a pair of well-worn jeans and plaid shirt being his usual outfit of the day, a frayed cowboy hat usually residing on top of his head whenever he was outside and a constantly shined Sherriff’s badge adorning his chest. Indeed, the only things that stopped the man from appearing every inch the classic western lawman was his eyes, too deep and too dead to be on any silver screen.
Equipment: A long length of rope, typically worn as a belt.
Package of hand-rolled cigarettes
Hip flask, generally full of whisky
2 pairs of handcuffs
Weapons: One simplistic stun-baton, jury-rigged from an electric bug zapper and an electrical plug.
One Bernelli M3 semi-automatic shotgun
5 cases of buckshot
1 case of rubber riot-control pellets
One Browning 9 mm pistol
5 cases of 9mm rounds
Background: There wasn’t much to tell about Adam, until the world changed. He was a simple boy that had grown up into a simple man. He had few friends growing up, his love life was barely present, his grades were middling… There simply wasn’t much to tell about him, he was just one of the crowd of humanity living in Houston, nearly indistinguishable from his fellow man. Eventually he found himself falling into the position of a prison guard at Kegan’s state jail. It was there that the man known as Adam Sanson was born, upon the death of the old world.
He was one of the few on staff the morning of the solar flare, and the only one that didn’t run when the true nature of the disaster was discovered. The prison had an old generator, a simple, gas powered, thing that kept the lights on and the doors locked, but Adam knew that it was only for a matter of hours. The prison would fall soon enough, the tides of murderers, rapists, thieves and gang-bangers contained within released onto the unprepared streets, ready to turn the already dire situation into something far, far, worse. Adam was the only one left. The only one that could see the consequences of what had happened and recognize what would happen if things were allowed to continue unchecked. There were 652 prisoners in the complex that morning, and no way to identify what any of them were convicted for, the computers damaged beyond repair by the flare. No way to tell who would be too dangerous to let out on the street again. No way to judge, save for the words of the inmates themselves.
652 rounds later, Adam left the prison for the last time, boots and shirt caked in the gore of those he had been charged to guard and a twisting in his stomach that would never truly go away. He left Houston that very day, only walking back to his home to gather supplies before moving northwards, unable to face the city that he had soiled his soul to protect any longer.
Over the weeks and years, however, Adam was able to grow a sick sort of acceptance for his actions, still loathing himself to the very core, but layering his heart in so many layers of bitterness and self-loathing that it turned into the darkest of jokes, something that the now much older man could laugh coldly at in the lonesome nights.
Eventually, he even stumbled upon a little town and took up the position of protector once again, filling the unfamiliar role of judge and the all too personal role of executioner, a one man justice system to fill the town’s needs. There was very little leeway, the town unable to spare the manpower for a full time prison, and so the punishments tended to be more physical, with Adam administering whatever justice was needed to ensure that the community was kept safe. He remains there to this day, dressing himself as a lawman to satisfy the sick sense of humour that sustains him, trying to convince himself that, in the end, what he’s done has been for the best.
Additional Notes: Most people in town dislike or avoid Adam, his dour personality and the grisly nature of his occupation causing them to keep their distance from the erstwhile protector.
Been gone for... Forever. Good to be back though!
Sorry to everyone that I was talking with before I disappeared >_<
Accepted
Hope that this one isn't too much.
Name: Raven (no longer uses original name)
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Personality: A calm, serene nature. Even in the midst of violence, he remains perfectly calm. Very little ruffles his feathers. Friendly but quiet, keeps to himself.
Weapons: Springfield Socom II M1A (uses .308 caliber rounds civilian rounds, 7.62 military. Scoped, 10 round clips), Sawed off Remington 12 gauge with wood stock (holds 5 plus one in the chamber) , SIG P226 .40 (.40 S&W, 12 round clips)
Description: 6'0" tall, with an athletic lean musculature. Tanned skin, blue eyes, black necklength hair with bangs in front of his eyes. Right arm and shoulder is scarred from a burn.
Belongings: Wears a black sleeveless shirt with a black long sleeve button up, and carries a black leather jacket with a hood. Black boots and belt, black full-finger athletic gloves made to keep out the weather. Armorwise he has an armored vest under his shirt. Black motorcycle backpack with a stainless steel thermos, box of dog biscuits, 2 MREs, and several cans of beans and vienna sausages. Also wears a black pair of sunglasses. small hand-mirror. For ammo he has five spare clips for his rifle, 18 rounds for the shotgun, and two spare clips in addition to the one in the gun.
Occupation: Was a police officer before the incident. Now a mercenary, and some mechanic skills. Survivalist expert.
Backstory: Raven was born a John Constantine in 1992 to an family in the suburbs. His father a policeman, he grew up wanting to follow in his father's footsteps. Throughout his time in school he managed to keep his grades in the A's and B's, graduating with honors.
After high school he went straight into the police academy where he continued his education and worked hard, again graduating with honors and immediately went onto the police force and entered his apprenticeship to his mentor veteran police officer. The day of his graduation though, the incident happened.
Afterwards he found a little farm to survive on, but two years later they were attacked by a group of men who were better armed and prepared. Hunting them down, he killed them and decided to move on.
Moving from place to place, he worked for various people to eliminate the criminals that had been cropping up all over the place, using his skills learned as a police officer to eliminate threats to the friendlier communities, exchanging his skills for supplies.
Then he heard about the city of lights. At first he considered it a myth, but as he listened he decided it might be worth the risk. That he might be able to find a place where people could have a haven, and maybe, just maybe, he could bring more people there to expand and bring back some of the things that had been missing for the last eight years.
Last edited by Rayne7; 03-04-2012 at 12:18 AM.
"Tragedy and adversity are the stones upon which we sharpen our swords so that we may fight new battles."- Simi in Infinity, by Sherrylin Kenyon
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