Joshua goes by Josh most of the time, though there's no one to actually say, 'Hey Josh!'...
He's male, of course.
I'll keep this fairly brief.
Joshua is a fairly quiet man who takes what he wants when he wants, and usually before anyone can notice. He tries to avoid any large encounters, and only takes out zombies when they're in his way, or if they're in a spot where they could hear him moving. To other people, he's seemingly cold and gruff, ignoring other survivors and moving along his way. Sometimes he'd trade something for stuff like bandages and arrows, but other then that he tries to keep to himself. Two's a party, of course, but anymore then that is just a group looking for trouble. Sure, sometimes he travels with another person, but just to the next town, and usually only if that person is extremely skilled or useful. He doesn't care for annoying and overly-dramatic children, and dislikes loud, cheerful people. Not that he's emo, but seriously...it could get annoying at times.
Standing at a relatively tall height of 6'3, Joshua is in very good shape despite the odds stacked against him. His brown hair sweeps past his forehead, tamed despite being in the wild world, and his eyes are very angry and calculating. He has a scruffy-looking beard that scratches at his cheek some-times, but Joshua doesn't trust himself with a knife to his face. Emotions are a bitch.
* - Joshua is very agile and strong despite his rather...slender appearance. He has a great amount of stamina, and often free-runs when he's either running from the Infected, or searching for places to loot.
* - His skill with a bow is incredibly good, though he's only average with guns.
* - Sneaking around comes easy to him, due to his life as a hunter.
* - Very fast reaction speeds.
* - Isn't afraid to take human lives.
* - Survival Instincts.
A bow made from extremely durable and flexible mahogany. He's had it for a while now, and used to use it when he went hunting. Before the world came to shit. He has a few dozen bullhead arrows stuffed into his back-pack, easily accessible. A machete is strapped to his back, underneath the backpack, and he has a holstered 9mm tied to his pants leg. It only has a few bullets in the clip. As for inside of the small pack, there's only a few ration bars and a canteen of water. Nothing that could make a lot of sound, thankfully. A small medic box filled with hand-soap, some sort of mosquito spray, and a Zippo lighter with the engraved markings, 'I.E'. He found it on some dead guy, and naturally, he took it without a second thought.
Originally, Joshua Anderson was born to a 'country bumpkin' family down in Houston, Texas. They lived in a nice little valley, with plenty o' woods, wild-life, and a general nature atmosphere. He had no brothers or sisters, and both his father and mother was alive. His father, however, was very ill at the age of 49. His mother was 52, and she had cramps and spasms really bad, causing her to stay in bed most of the time.
His father, seeing that Joshua was their only hope for food, supplies, and general cleaning, decided to teach him a few things here and there. At the young age of 7, Joshua learned about hunting, gathering, tracking, and general survival techniques. Every day his father would take him out on the porch and say, 'See here sonny, this is how ye do 'dis", and stuff like, "String the bow calmly and carefully. Don't cut ye finger,".
By the age of 10, Joshua could kill a dear, in a tree, without making a single sound.
He provided for his family, going out in the truck to pick up medicine for dad and mom, and to buy different materials to fix the house up with. He was always a quiet boy, and did what he was told without question or second thoughts. He cooked the meat, fixed the windows, wiped the floor, and washed the toilet. All without a fuss. His education didn't drop, however. His mother taught him in her old text-books she kept from, like, 100 hundred years ago. His grandfather was rather smart as well, teaching him Math, English skills, and other things he needed for life. Everything was good. Until they died.
He was around 20 at a time. Joshua was dragging a large 200 pounder; a gigantic buck, to put in the surplus room. Once he entered the home, deer slung over one shoulder and bow gripped in the other, he only heard silence. He screamed "Hello?!" loudly...well, as loud as he could, before dropping the bleeding animal and rushing up the stairs.
They were dead. Hand in hand.
Long story short? He buried them in the most respectful place he could find; the beautiful waterfall clearing his father married his mother in. After that, continued living in his home, hunting for food and creating clothing out of the hide and leather. Yet...somehow, they found him. He fled north, and wandered through ruined, destroyed cities, scavenging and looting what he could, and fighting any zombies that he couldn't sneak by or avoid. He traveled by car, by truck, by bike, and even by boat (it was an odd experience). And now, wandering the plains up North, he plans to take what he can. Then...he'll be gone.
At least...he hopes...