Proser said
I'll hopefully have something sendable soonish, probably with the new CS thing; I've been a bit bogged down with holidays. Have to admit though, I can see where the people thinking on bringing this RP somewhere else are coming from, with the Guild constantly being down lately and whatnot.

Mahz is also trying to fix it as well. And with the down time, the GMs are able to build up the world in the background and create the plotlines for the rp without forcing the Players to wait. So while its annoying, it's still not completely without progress.

Abbie's done and Tearstone suggested to post the CSes here, then we'll link them with the locations in the OP. There's also going to be a section for GM announcements and such as well that will be important for the IC/OOC. I would like to get these CSes done within the Week if possible Poser and Jazzy.

Name: Abbie O’Keeffe

Age: 18

Height: 5’8”

Build: Slender

Appearance:



A long sleeve flannel shirt, tattered along the edges, in a check pattern of black and white. There are two breast pockets often carrying a picture of her family, who she believes is dead, and her as well as a pair of dog tags engraved with the name Kurtis Conner. There are other odds and ends within the pockets but those two things are the most important to her heart. The shirt laps about an inch over the tight jeans faded with age and messy self-stitched patches on the knees. About her middle is a tool belt holding her gun, spare ammo cartridge, and a single switchblade. Under the flannel, Abbie wears a tank top shirt sporting a military green color. On her feet are a size too big waterproof boots stuffed with rags to try to fit better. Beggars can’t be choosers really in a world that’s falling apart at the seam.

Arsenal:

Quiver, designed out of animal fur and shabbier hangs at her side and holds 5 arrows, assortment of hand made and manufactured. Slightly altered to strap against her thigh so it’s not slapping against it in her runs.

Compound bow

combat knife (Tied to hang at her other hip side and easily pulled out when needed)

Handgun

Spare clip with 9 rounds left.

Equipment:

bag

*Can hold up the same amount as your average backpack



Small compound bow care kit (inside a small hand bag inside the outer pockets). Including melted down animal fat and bees wax-half used- in 8 oz container, a ¼ bottle of oil-hinge/wheel type, 1 replacement string set, a few small untested screws or bolts, and folded up rag.

Attached

2 handmade para cord bracelet on her right wrist, made from many cords including string, yard braids, mostly paracord from frayed old ones, etc.

Lower half:



Inside the waist pack:



Food:



Bio/Narrative:
I guess it’s best to introduce myself, that’s being polite after all. I’m called Abigail O’Keeffe. My name is one of the few things I’ve got left after the world came to an end but I’m proud of it. It’s a wonder I managed to survive this long but that’s what I am: a survivor. I’m not a fighter and when it comes to down to it, my reflexes are better at flight than fight. I can run like crazy and pretty far too at the most important times because that’s what I’m built to do. I’m lean and lack strength most need to bull their way out of problem so I have to think around situations that require brawn. So far, I’m still here after all this time meaning I’m doing something right.

It’s been a long time, hard to believe I’m now eighteen when I still feel like that scared thirteen years old sometimes. I learned fast how to use a composite bow decent enough to kill deer, infected and other dangers to me if needed yet I’ll admit finding arrows isn’t easy. Most the arrows I have were made from resources I found and yes, they might not be the best but they work just fine for my needs. Each one is precious so I tend not to leave them behind if I can. Why not use a gun you ask? Pretty simple really, I’m terrified of them because one day when I was young, a bullet could’ve ended my life. It crashed through the window and nicked my cheek so now I’ve got a phobia of guns, namely those bigger than a handgun. My aim with my small knife, wooden baseball bat, composite or a reconstructed bow, I can manage a hit most the time. Give me a handgun… I would be lucky to hit one out of every ten targets I try for.

I came from a normal family of five, my parents, twin brothers and me, which lived in New York. Not the best place in the world and after the infect spread, it was left in shambles. When the infection was just rumors circulating around, my father was comatose after being caught in a riot. It ended up being mom and I that stayed, my brothers sent out west to a relative's house. During the trip home, we became caught up in a life and death struggle when infected chased us down an alleyway. My life was saved by a stranger’s, Kurtis Connor, kindness while behind a closed door I heard my mother eaten alive and telling me to run. We made it out of the city and stuck together, keeping each other safe. He taught me how to use the composition bow, construct a crude one if needed, and everything about archery, including arrow making. Even tried to get me over my fear of guns but only managed to get me able to use a handgun without shaking. I still freeze up at loud shoots like machine and shotgun from time to time.

Not long after, we arrived at Eden. A small town with more land than population, they willingly took us in and that’s when I met Kathrin. My girlfriend and yes, I’m bisexual though I didn’t know until after Kat talked me into dating her a year later. Started off a bet and became something much more. At Eden, I was a jack of all trades. From cooking (not well mind you!) to cleaning, mostly rigging up quick fixes until we could figure out solutions that were more permanent though it never happened. So to be honest, I was used to traveling long walks with about 4 hours sleep across Eden.

It was over a year ago when Kat died. We were salvaging for whatever little remained around the town and it seemed something was stalking us. Kat immediately shoved me into a rotten coffin, my gun in her hand, before investigating it. It’s hard to explain what it’s like to hear someone you love screaming, flesh ripping, and dying when you’re so close yet helpless to save her. Just like my mother...I don’t think the term ‘Hell on earth’ came even close to reliving that. So add claustrophobia to the list. When it had been silent for a long time, I made a hole that allowed me to unblock the coffin and came out. I found Kay and she was dead. Whatever killed her was long gone. I still regret not burying her as I ran off instead. In the distance I saw that Eden was gone, over ran by infected.

I drove for two days straight on pure fear toward Fort Riley, Kansas, stopping only once when I hit a gas station and seemed to attracted unwanted company. It was around the second or third day I met the Farmers and the small group they traveled with to the same place. That first meeting was interesting though it lead to some deep, family connection later. I admit to having a particular fondness for the girls, namely Lacy since she reminds me of my brothers. They would’ve been around her age right now. While I still hope to see Kurtis again one day, I can’t dwell on that thinking forever or yet face a possibility that I might never see him again. I’m starting to get sick of losing those I love nowadays and a pain swelling in my heart that I really wish wasn’t there. Does it just get worse before it ever gets better, I wonder? Or does it just never get better at all?

One thing I will always remember is that nothing is permanent and people die. It’s hard to accept, I know, but now it’s all I know is a guarantee.