Well, since I'm presuming you want us to actually post them here, I shall.

[b]Name:[/b]
Jones Abrams.

[b]Age:[/b]
Twenty-two.

[b]Gender:[/b]
The opposite of female.

[b]Race/Ethnicity: [/b]
If compared to Earth standards, Jones would be somewhat of a mix between Polish and German if there were a place of similar geographical and cultural backgrounds on Obit. If I were to guess, I would say on the northern parts of Meda if the landmasses are similar at all. 

[b]Burden: [/b]
Luckily enough, Jones is only twelve percent affected. A sheltered upbringing and extreme caution have led to him being rather healthy in terms of being Burdened or not. Really though, even without being Burdened, Jones is extremely anxious and afraid of many things. Can you blame him in a world like this? 

[b]Faction: [/b]
Jones doesn't really belong to any faction. If you were to peg one on him, he would probably be in DERB, but really he only travels from settlement to settlement, preferring to stick to the safest places. He has no real affinity to any of them, and no hate for any either. DERB helps him get along, he enjoys trading with Avant Garde, and Voyagers make good body guards.

[b]Appearance: [/b]
[hider=Jones Abrams] [img=http://www.myportraitdrawing.com/pencilportrait2.jpg] [/hider]
Tall and lanky and with only a bit of muscle, you might call Jones a person who was never suited for the apocalypse. Well, in truth, he never was. The lack of sufficient food supplies lead to him being even thinner, but recently he's been getting good meals in. His body is more or less not suited for combat in the slightest. Any fights he got in as a child always led to him getting his ass kicked. 

However, that doesn't mean he isn't very handsome. He has a generally handsome face with his dark brown eyes and black hair. He could use a shave, though. Razor blades are fairly hard to come by in this day and age, but he usually tries to keep his facial hair trim and neat. He's the kind of guy who'd rather talk his way out of a situation than use blades and brawn to fix things.

[b]Personality:[/b]
Jones is a likable person. He has to be, if he wants to try and make a living out of this world. While not ultimately charismatic, he has his own charm of just being nice. Charity and gifts are things of the past, but Abrams tries his best to keep good morals. He helps out his trading pals when their caravans are attacked, he tries to lower prices for people who really need it. Still, at his best, he's a coward. A pacifist who is scared of his own shadow would find it extremely hard to live after the Hailstones fell. He was generally terrified of the Lost and all of the crime and depravity that now inhabits the world of Obit. 

In turn, his sanity has taken a fairly big hit. Being outside of any safe zones is a hard thing for him to do, but bless him, he finds a way to do it. Even a coward like him has a bit of courage stuck in that heart of his. Just don't expect him to go jumping into burning buildings, or taking out entire camps of Lost to save a few orphans. That's just asking for too much.

[b]Synopsis: [/b]
Jones was only five when the Hailstones dropped from the heavens. With his father being gone, he and his mother only got just by. At a young age, in those barely walled off communities, Jones learned that he was alone save for his mother. The other children in the camps just didn't like him for some reason. They ridiculed him for all sorts of reasons, especially his only real talent. His mother was a seamstress, and that was the way they got by. Naturally, the talent for sewing was passed down to him, but that just separated him from the other kids. 

Still, he quickly gained skill in the trade his mother passed onto him, and they somehow survived in those starved camps in the beginnings. He was quite the sewing artist, being able to easily mend any sort of clothing given to him. And eventually he learned more. It started with simple things. When he dropped off mended things, he would get requests to get things. Usually it was small stuff, like find some baby bottles, or look for a pressure cooker. But eventually he became the person to go to in his little bubble if you wanted something. Eventually that led on to actually trade of shipments of food, weapons, or whatever things were needed. 

Of course, it all couldn't last long without a hitch. When attempting to make the move to a major trading hub with his mother, they were attacked by the Lost. Jones watched his mother get ripped into pieces straight in front of his own eyes. He barely lived himself, being heavily wounded and having lost a lot of blood. He lived by hiding underneath two corpses while the others were all killed. His fear of the things outside the walls has always been with him since. 

As for recently, his name has only just become widely known around the major cities. Abrams Caravan is a small, but popular choice among people if you want reasonable prices and quick delivery. The only member however, is himself. Really, he doesn't need anyone else. The only people he needs are the guards and the drivers, and things get done. It usually requires a bit of personal effort, but his use of specialized routes through little used areas and just hiring the right people gives his caravans a high success rate.

[b]Strengths: [/b]
He is a natural in the economic systems. To him, it all just clicks. Two hundred bluebacks for a hundred pounds of food. Twenty bluebacks for that stereo. Five CDs for a flash drive. He is also quite skilled in sewing, seeing as he practiced it constantly throughout his childhood. Often enough his caravans will have a supply of fixed clothing on them, self mended by Jones himself. He is also pretty fast. Even though he wasn't in Track, his long legs let him get away from most things that have two feet. He can take a bit of a beating too, with a bit of endurance for such a thin body. 

He's also good for sewing you up in a pinch. Want pink string or purple?

[b]Vices/Weaknesses: [/b]
He is absolutely awful with a gun. He flinches when he fires, he has shitty aim. Any of the times he's attempted to learn have failed spectacularly. He's not a fighter, either. Pacifistic by nature, he never really got to learning how to use a melee weapon properly. He can swing a pipe just fine, but don't expect much more than that. Swords, flails, and the like would just cause an accident in his hands. Jones is also a coward, with all of his instincts narrowing in on the flight aspect rather than the fight. Still, that doesn't mean he won't help his friends, but don't wish for a Bruce Lee, as you'll only get a man flailing around a weapon in the hopes that it might hit something bad.

He doesn't really have many other skills other than sewing and trading. He can't fix up a broken car, he can't field strip a weapon either. Other than stitching up a bad cut or in the best case staunching the bleeding, he's not much of a doctor, either. Jones isn't the brightest of the bunch, with an average intelligence. He won't be solving and super complex equations or figuring out how many grams of sulfuric acid it would take to create a bomb. 

[b]Equipment: [/b]
Jones [b]always[/b] carries around his sewing kit. You wouldn't believe how many things would need mending after the world went to hell. Inside the rectangular kit is many different kinds of string, various needles, and his own handy dandy thimbles. He also carries around other things like duct tape, rope, and a few soldering irons. He keeps precious batteries as well. 

In terms of actual equipment, he wears a backpack. Really, that's it other than his pockets. The only weapons he carries are two things. A double-barreled shotgun because it was the only thing he could effectively use and a battered, old iron pipe. The thing has lasted him years, and he never got around to swapping it for anything else. He carries a small amount of food as well, and water if he's going on trips. Oh, and a few medical supplies. Clean-ish bandages, a few moderate painkillers, and some other things. (His blood type is B+.)

[b]Other Things*: [/b]
His favorite flavor of cake is Carrot.