[center][b]Appearance:[/b] 
[img=http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/97/9b/13/979b136bc9e67b1623244c2f82359bd5.jpg]
[b]Name:[/b] Eveleyn Grey
[b]Weapon:[/b] Home made long bow and arrows. Kitchen knife. 
[b]Estimated Age:[/b] 25-30
[b]Personality:[/b] On the surface Evelyn is a woman with a cynical, and sarcastic sense of humour, she can be dark perhaps down right morbid at times but the way she puts things is as if she honestly doesn't care how she comes across. She's happy to chat with people but as soon as questions veer towards the personal or family orientated she grows cold and down right abrasive until she leaves the situation. She rarely lets people close enough to get around to calling them friends but she does show an awful lot of loyalty to the community, especially any children in the group and is happy enough to put herself into some manner of trouble for the sake of a kid. She can also dispense pretty good advice when she wants to or when its truly needed though she tends to avoid being 'needed' in such a way. 

[b]Brief Background:[/b] Evelyn lived with her parents and her little sister Jessica on a small farm a few miles from the Barrowside encampment, she remembered countless times when men and women came to the farm, told their father to give up and leave with them, if not for his sake but the childrens and each time her father refused them and their mother remained silent. Their was evidence that her father was rather heavy handed on his mother but no one spoke of it so they considered it normal, as they did their fathers constant bragging about his home made bow, sturdy wood that had been sanded and carefully shaped for the right amount of suppleness, cords made from old clothes to keep it from snapping in vulnerable spots and a string made from the boiled down fibres from certain trees. And the arrows, he always went on about his fucking arrows, normally she didn't mind but when his eyes were glazed and he pointed a drawn arrow at her and her sister she'd learned to stay quiet and be good. 

He hunted and his mother tried to grow crops, sometimes they got weak yellowing things but they tasted horrible and were tough to chew. Still it was there's and with several safety measures set up -pit traps, tripwires with cans attached, etc- it was mostly safe. They had a hidden cellar, it was only just big enough for four of them to stand shoulder to shoulder but when the bandits or the greys came looking for easy pickings they had enough time to get in and secure it with the chain they'd taken off their door. Not that it had ever been necessary since its installment. Then one night something changed, while they sat to a dinner of weird roots and weirder meat that Eveleyn and Jessica refused to eat there was a sudden smash of glass as a grey shoulder smashed into it. Her father screamed to get to the basement but Evelyn, spotting the door trembling under assault ran up the stairs instead, hearing her father instruct her mother to 'forget the bitch' and 'get her fucking arse in the cellar with Jessica'. As she looked around for somewhere to hide she spotted the old rafter beams and with some effort clawed her way up as she heard the front door splinter in and the familiar twang of a bow. 

There was a feminine scream, her mother and she heard the sickening sound of wet meat hitting the deck hard. Another girlish scream but more muffled hinted her little sister was safe enough for now in the cellar. Her father howled and fought sounding like a wild cat until with another sickening sound he too must have fallen. She hugged herself tighter to the rafters, pressed as flat as she could and preyed with eyes squeezed tight. She could hear creaking on the stairs and hoped they wouldn't come up but a heavy bang had her eyes open wide and her head whip around, she dared not move, nor breathe and for the first time she prayed. A high pitched scream echoed in her ears for what felt like hours until the sunlight came and the Greys slunk away. 

She waited for hours after the last sound from down stairs before she uncurled from the rafters and stiffly grabbed the broom her mother made and carefully slipped off the few scant bristles there had been. Slowly she made her way down stairs, feeling bile in her throat as she saw blood and doing her best not to scream as she saw the body of a grey. Shivering she approached the main room where she found her mother, she could tell because of the powder blue dress, her father, there was a bow beside him and her little sister, her golden hair sticking out of her ravaged body where one grey still bit at her flesh. Too distracted eating to see the rage filled youth, even as a sharp stick was driven through the back of its head with a strength only gifted by grief. Even once it stopped thrashing she didn't allow herself to cry. Cutting a lock of her sisters hair and wrapping it in a swatch of her floral patterned dress she took her fathers bow and arrows, her mothers sharpest kitchen knife and her fathers coat and made her way to Barrowside where she's been living now for between 5-8 years. 

[b]Misc:[/b] 
Loves a bit of moonshine not that she's seen any in a while.
Prone to melancholy which she hides with Sarcasm.
Has 20/20 vision and rarely misses a target (though can miss her intended location).
Prefers Long range attacks to close range. 
Can move rather quietly among the rubble for reconnaissance IF she has too. 
A rumour has it she took the last name 'Grey' as a reminder of what happened to her family. 

[b]Level[/b] 3a 
[/center]

Hope this is okay, if it needs tweaking let me know. :)