I suppose I should start with my name. I’m Dante Ralston. I’m forty-six years old. My hair’s getting kinda long; it’s reaching past my ears a little now. It’s a chestnut brown and sort of untidy these days. I need a shave too, I got some thick stubble going on right now past my moustache and goatee, and those are getting thick and untidy too. I’m about five… nine, I think? Yeah, five, nine sounds about right. My eyes are a dark brown color too. Heh… my mom used to always joke and say I was full of shit… my wife would say that too. Ah well. They’re both gone now. Anyway, I used to be a gunsmith before this apocalypse happened. I made my own revolver actually, and I keep it strapped to my hip all the time. I’ve gotten to be a pretty good shot with it. I carry a scoped hunting rifle too, so I can take those things down at a distance, but I usually choose to get by ‘em without engaging, so I usually do a lot of sneaking. It's become a strength of mine, oh and gunsmithing of course. I can refill ammo as well. I don't have much endurance though, on account of my nasty smoking habit. I can't really fight one on one; I prefer shooting over close combat. 

I guess I can blend in with a crowd pretty easily. I’m not too noticeable. I usually just wear plain black T-shirt with a chest pocket on them so I can keep my cigarillos handy. Other than that, I just wear plain jeans and my boots.Pretty plain, like I said. Anyway, back to me before this whole apocalypse thing. I used to be a gunsmith. I was married with two boys too. My wife and youngest son died when it first hit. My oldest enlisted with a guard regiment at the Chico haven. I decided to settle down there for a bit. At least my son’s flourishing in this new world and found some happiness with a girl he met. I’m not doing so well. I’m an easygoing guy, and I’ll talk to just about anyone, but I still have nightmares about my wife and youngest, and I hit the bottle a little too hard at times, but it’s not a big issue.

- [i] Dante Ralston[/i], 6/22/24