Survival, Among Other Things (OOC)

[Zephaniel]

CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Bjorn Trout

Age: 54

Gender: Male

Height: 6' 2" (188cm)

Weight: 170lb (77kg)

Appearance: A large Nordic man. He has piercingly pale blue eyes, and light blonde hair. His build is stocky, but that's just genetic. A poor diet and recent wandering have left him looking gaunt in the face. He wears an old parka made of synthetics and warm wool clothes. When he can keep warm, he is typically seen in a ratty old suit that is about two sizes too small, with tears at some of the seams. He says it was his father's.

Background: Bjorn was born in what used to be Wisconsin, outside the village of Camp Douglas, near Volk Field. He grew up much like most of the first generation of children did after the Plague: a hardscrabble life filled with death and tragedy, where more children were buried then parents and death by pneumonia was as likely as death by rape and torture. The folks in his village tried their best, though, and he survived to see his father pass away in his sleep one cold winter night. Bjorn was 21 at the time. If you ask anyone in the village where Bjorn's decline started, if any remember, most would say it was then.
You see, his father was a weatherman before the Plague, and a damn good one too. Bjorn was his father's apprentice, and keeping an eye on the weather was more important now than ever, with the lack of modern infrastructure. He knew the cloud types before he could speak properly, and had pored over every meteorology text he could find. He helped his father in every way that he could and they both took their work very seriously. He helped his father with the weather observations, and his father determined the forecast for the village, every day, like clockwork.
The winter storm that finally did his father in was entirely unexpected. It was as if the system just formed out of nowhere, with howling arctic winds and windchills in the minus forties... Thirty villagers died, including Bjorn's father. He took it very personally, holing himself up in his room for a week. When he emerged, he was a different man. The village children stayed away from him when he walked the streets, his eyes locked in a thousand-yard stare. He took up his father's post, consumed with watching the weather. Everyone avoided him, especially when the weather was turning, as he could be heard at night, raving about pressure tendencies, vorticity, and mixing ratios...
One day the mayor came to his house to get the forecast, but Bjorn was gone, along with his instruments. Rumor has it he has been winding his way north ever since, teaching his trade to any who will listen... which is difficult, since he has since developed a condition which the lay-person might call "bat-shit crazy."

[Count Epsilon]

we've moved.

"All Dead Men"