(O blood type, approx 43% of Americans): This type of zombie is slow, dumb and come in great numbers. They are commonly referred to as “ones” or “unos.” They share many similarities with RA2 (A blood type, see below). They can vocalize moans and do so when they see prey. They react vaguely to smell and hearing to the degree that they will turn their heads. While they do not associate, say music with humans and meat, they are naturally drawn to sounds. They DO react to sight. It is suspected that RA1 and RA2 have a slight form of heat vision. One study in Germany showed them react to heat signatures of human silouttes at up to 8 feet. This study was not fully researched prior to its…untimely closing. These RAs are not smart, as mentioned, and can hardly negotiate up/down stairs (which usually constitutes them falling down stairs. To move up, they either crawl or a mass of bodies stacks and actually allows the zombies in the back to crawl up the mass).

(A blood type, approx 41% of Americans): this type is very similar to RA1 but a little smarter. They move a little bit faster and are drawn to things a lot more quickly than Ones. They also react to one another more distinctly than Ones. Field studies have shown that a mass of Ones and Twos moving together will walk without much purpose or direction. But if one of the Twos see prey or meat, they will break off and all of the other Twos (within 5 or so feet) seem to gravitate together while the mass of Ones continue on. This happens even when the other RA2s are out of sight, smell and hearing, and scientists have no theories to the manner of communication that takes place that allows this.

(B blood type, approx 11% of Americans): RA3s are commonly referred to as Threes, joggers or Q1s (quick ones). These are a bit smarter than Ones and Twos and also a lot more aggressive and quick. Most studies found that Threes had a tendency to band together with more of a pack nature. They have been known to easily climb stairs and even climb over low walls. Similar to the Twos, they seem to be able to react as a group to one individual, and they have been documented to do so at distances of up to 15 feet. On rare occasion, this type has been known to stop and feed on non-Three infected.

(AB blood type, approx 5% of Americans): Fours are the scariest of the infected individually. They are called horsemen (a connection to the Four Horsemen), clickers (when excited, they have a tendancy to clack or chatter their teeth) and breathers (they always breath loud and deep and almost sound like they are wheezing or choking). They are fast and have an animalistic intelligence, having been known to follow prey for periods of time and waiting for individuals to become isolated. Unique to all other forms of RAs is that this type will kill anything, including other infected openly and aggressively. They do not kill one another however and groups of up to 3 have been sighted. A unique thing about an RA4 is that if a human is bitten and DOES NOT DIE, but succumbs to infection, it becomes an RA4. However, if a human is bitten and dies, it will reanimate according to blood class.

Name: Jon Erikson
Age: 29
Occupation: Government top secret data clerk and server technician
Family life: Single
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Weight: 185 pounds
Blood type: O+
Reason for government interest: Jon has top secret clearance to the top most tiers of the government. He is also capable of running and maintaining computer networks of top secret level.

Picture:

Bio: Via his CIA service record, Jon Erikson was born and raised in the streets of Chicago. His early childhood was typical, he grew up playing hockey and taking krav maga lessons until his parents both lost their jobs and could not afford to pay for either. He continued to train at the Krav Maga center while working to pay for his lessons by cleaning and helping maintain the grounds. His parents fought most of the time, each blaming the other for their financial situation and Jon distanced himself from both as most kids do.

Eventually his mother filed for divorce and about a month later, both were killed by a drunk driver. Because he had no extended family and no care takers, he was given to the state at age 14. His schooling lagged as he had no true guidance and motivation.

Eventually he dropped out and worked full time training and tending to the Krav Maga center. He was given a small room there and that seemed to be enough for him. His training led him to meet a handful of recruiters for the military and one day he signed up for the army. After taking an asvab test, his scores were too low to enlist.

One of the recruiters noticed his computer comprehension was through the roof however, and he then set Jon up on a government grant that allowed him to go to college for 5 years almost free. He was moved to Washington DC to learn how to institute a government top secret server from top to bottom and maintain it and it’s security.

Over the 5 years or so, his job was mostly menial data entry and systems checks although his job would take him outside the country and all over the US on a routine basis. He was trained in how to use firearms, hand to hand combat (on top of his krav maga background), first aid, outdoor survival and a myriad of other arenas that the CIA deemed necessary.

When The Awakening happened, the government started pulling in a handful of assets inside and isolating them to keep accountability. Later, when things got exceptionally bad, they put together a CDC/Homeland Security facility, called The Southern Facility where they would gather assets that they knew were immune and who would be of some value once the outbreaks ceased.

The outbreaks did not cease…

Name: Fuad Najasir
Age: 25
Occupation: None – former student, failed EMT training
Family life: single.
Sex: male.
Hair: brown.
Eyes: brown.
Weight: 185 lbs.
Blood type: O+.
Immune: yes.
Gear: backpack with mismatched clothes. A sawed off 12g Remington shotgun w/ half a box of shells. A crowbar. He has a “fanny pack” of various emergency medical equipment while there are other medical supplies in his main pack.
He made “armor” out of motorcycle riding gear. Instead of the whole jacket, he cut off the sleeves and legs in two different sizes: medium for the warmer weather and then XL for when it was cold and had to go over clothing. While he was bitten and almost had an arm broken, this DID save him from the bite getting to actual skin and possibly infecting him. Additionally, he found a steel gauntlet on a corpse, which he uses in the OPPOSITE hand he swings his crowbar with.
Picture:

Bio: Fuad was born in a predominantly Arab suburb of Phoenix, AZ. His family were Muslims, as was the majority of his community. He grew up fairly privileged, his father being a business executive for a computer company and his mother ran a series of Arab based shops locally.

Fuad had little problems growing up and all seemed well enough until his older brother died due to severe medical complications brought on by a pulmonary condition. He remembered his brother sobbing the night before, not wanting to die, being scared and unsure. He loathed his family for years after, as all they said were religious spoonfed crap. “It’s in Allah’s hands.” “You’ll be happier.” “You won’t suffer any more.” None of it consoled him and he had to be medicated once his heart rate wouldn’t slow.

His brother never woke up.

After that, Fuad became somewhat estranged to his family after he ceased practicing and accepting Islam into his life. At first, it was just a choice for himself, but after family resented him and made comments about it, he began having more conflict with more and more family members until he really ceased talking to anyone but his mother, father and sister. He gradually hovered in an area between deism and being an atheist, and some days agnostic. But mostly, he didn’t really care. After finishing school, he got a partial scholarship for running cross country and went away for 2 years.

Not long after, he dropped out and came home. He decided finally that he wanted to do something to help people, not just work a job to make money like his father. Now that he had grown up, he seen that while his father and mother were great providers, they were not around as parents, not good role models. They had OTHER people take him to school, make dinner, drive him around. They were always too busy focusing on money or their social image.

After fighting and almost threatening to leave forever, his father finally decided to give in and pay Fuad’s way through EMT training. He studies and practiced but the first time he took the test, he failed. He was pissed and crushed, but a few current EMTs and the instructor even said that over 80% of EMTs failed their first test, and over half still failed the second.

He was in the middle of studying for that second potentially failed test when The Awakening happened. It was horrible and he still had nightmares about it. He heard about it on the news, but it was all downplayed, but the internet, you can’t lie on the internet. He read and watched himself into a paranoia and told his family they needed to leave.

His father said they couldn’t, his mom and sister were both sick. Then, to Fuad’s amazement, his father started telling him how it was a hoax and not real, and if this alleged outbreak WAS real, then the holy and righteous would be saved. The middle of a global pandemic, and his father used it as an opportunity to throw Fuad’s lack of faith back in his face.

Later that night, he was still reading up on things when he heard arguing downstairs, then yelling. Then some crashing at the front door. He heard his father yelling and then screaming in pain. He looked down the bottom of the stairs and seen two forms over his father, one was his sister, and she was tearing into him as he screamed.

Then he looked and his mother was standing less than 10 feet away in her door way and she rushed him. He knew instantly what was happening, and why they were “sick” earlier, but it was too late now. He didn’t say anything or react, instinct just pushed her outstretched arms in the directions of the stairs, which she feel down at horrible angles, mostly on her head and neck.

Then, she hissed and started to try to crawl back up the stairs, her neck bent at a horrible angle. He threw up on the stairs. After a moment, he turned to his room, grabbed a baseball bat and the largest of the 3 set samurai sword set he had (a gift from a highschool girl friend actually) and threw some clothes in a bag. Then he opened his window and crawled down the pipe, the one he used to sneak out for years and shimmied down.

The scene around him was straight from a horror movie. It wasn’t like the movies. There were no cars peeling out. No explosions. Just people. People running. People screaming. Forms moving in the night. No houses were on fire. There was an occasional burst of gunfire, but everything going on around him was almost overwhelming. He took off at a light jog, picking up speed when he needed too, never realizing his cross country days would help him run out of the carnage.

He’d been running, walking, or driving East ever since, hearing that the Marine Base in Missouri was an infection free zone

Name: Harris "GodZILa" Godson
Age: 22
Occupation: Former hacker; acquitted of crimes to work for gov't
Family life: Single
Hair: Sandy brown
Eyes: Hazel
Weight: 155 pounds
Blood type: B+
Reason for government interest: Harris is a (former) world renown computer hacker. His skills are unparalleled, and he also has a lot of background in computer and networks, from the ground up.

Picture:

Bio: Harris was born in a privileged home, not really knowing much hardship, aside from those that he brought down upon himself. His parents were wealthy, his father being a top executive at a global petroleum company while his mother was simply a rich, pampered socialite. The two rarely had time for him, especially as he got older, and he spent most of his time being raised by housekeepers and the such.

Because he lived in a large, relatively isolated home and was home-schooled, he took to computers and the internet after being exposed to them one time. He quickly got sucked in, doing everything from building computers, social networking and gaming to maintaining servers. At the young age of 10, he got into hacking, and if Harris was a savant in terms of computers and technology, then his prowess at hacking may have had him labeled a god.

He found him doing things not really because he needed to, but simply because he could do them. He would steal money and identities, he'd change his grades and even wrote erroneous articles in newspapers and on websites. For many years, he stuck to what one could consider low key crimes. He didn't need money, or great grades, he simply did it because he could. His parents didn't care one way or another.

Then at 13 he was exposed to the powers of actual malicious hacking and took to it. He started compromising corporate servers, hacking sensative mainframes and eventually got to the point that he was worming his way into government systems and causing chaos. These activities were not limited the the US and he was on half a dozen lists globally as a wanted criminal, even though they had no idea who he was or what he looked like. "ZIL" or "Godzilla" was his screen name and he was revered in the underground world of hacking and even was made mention in large, public online circles.

The fact that he was rich and had cash resources, then was extremely intelligent, compounded with the ease at which wireless devices would be purchased and used, he was untraceable for over 7 years. Then, just like every other successful man who falls from grace, he was brought to heel by a woman scorned.

After he posted pictures of him at a party to which she was not invited, and there was a picture of Harris with his arm around another girl, she flipped out and called local authorities to let them know about him. She wasn't thinking at the time, and simply called to tell them that he was "watching and trading a shit load of child pornography," not realizing that in doing this, the metaphorical Pandora's Box was opened.

After a simple test of his security protocols, none of which were available anywhere else, nor were the agents able to even poke a small hole in it, they realized they were dealing with someone more capable than a rich kid watching porn. They called in the FBI and had no idea that in doing so, they'd be reeling in one of the biggest catches in the history of E-Cases. What started as serving a warrant for suspicion of distributing child pornography turned into a feeding frenzy.

At 20 years old, Harris was put in prison on a myriad of hacking related crimes, ultimately given 55 years without chance for parole. At no point in his stay would he ever be allowed to touch any electronic device with any form of interface.

Prior to going to prison, he and his lawyers came up with an agreement: Harris would be released into custody, be allowed to live at home, but on a form of modified parole and house arrest. He would be monitored at all times, via multiple methods, to include 2 agents near him at all times. He was given a computer that was monitored by a modified program he created that would only allow the most basic of computer access, similar to parental filters on tvs and devices.

He was miserable and sullen, a shell of who he used to be even in spite of aiding in the closing of several investigations. He finally found interest again on Valentine's Day, when things started to go wrong. He spent the first day looking at things online in regards to this when without warning, agents came into his room and removed him.

He was driven for hours, from Illinois to Missouri, and when the vehicle stopped at a facility, an agent entered the vehicle and explained that, in light of the potential epidemic around the world, he would be moved here for future considerations. Once the situation was handled, he would be released, but an asset like him could not be jeopardized.

Harris had no idea what exactly was going on, but when he tried to fight, he was hit with a stun baton and woke up in his room. After repeated conversations with people via the comm system, it was deduced that more or less, he was stuck here, nothing he said would matter and he'd be let out eventually, and things would go back to how they were before being imprisoned.

Name: Abel
Age: 36
Hair: Dirty Blonde
Eyes: Grey
Weight: 190lbs
Picture:
Blood type: O+
Immune: No

Family life: Married. Fathered a single child by the name of Claudette.
Occupation: PreRise, Abel, known by a different name, worked as CEO for his family's multibillion dollar company.

Gear:
On his back is a simple North Face Vault pack:
Tin can of jerky like meat
Can of Spam
Can of Peaches
Water bottle x2
First Aid Kit
-Scissors
-Roll of gauze
-KFC hand wipe pack x10
10x36 Monocular
Flashlight
Box of ammunition
-9mm rds x9
Map of Missouri
Pen
Lighter

On his hip is a holster and a strap:
9mm Handgun
Machete

Around his neck:
Gas mask
Dream catcher pendent

In his pockets:
3" Switchblade
Wallet
-2 Dollar bill
-Forever Yours candy bar wrapper
Lint

Bio:
Before the Rise, Abel lead a life clouded by the mundane musings of business. His family, starting with is great great grandfather, created and ran a successful enterprise that would one day be worth billions of dollars. Abel's father would eventually take up the mantle after his father retired and when Abel came of age, he followed in their footsteps. Naturally being driven and focused, a trait that seemed to blossom in their family, he was quick to learn the trade and before long, found himself at the head of their family's fortune. From there, life simply took over and he found himself moving along his years as if on auto pilot.

He would eventually marry at the young age of 24, taking the hand of the beautiful blue eyed black hair girl of his dreams, Anne. Together they would have a child, a girl, that they named Claudette and who Abel hoped would be next in line to run the company. The three of them took up new residence in New York with a condo that overlooked the Hudson River. Claudette would enroll in a prestigious school while taking lessons at home from a private tutor. Anne would return to work and Abel would run his company from home, making occasional visits to their local branch. Things looked positive for the new family if not a little rigid and controlled.

The first rumors of the pandemic were dismissed by both himself and those around him. They began by playing it off as nothing but a hoax, a scare that would eventually shimmer down into a dull memory in the back of everyone's mind. People would laugh about how governments had begun to prepare for a zombie apocalypse and dinner conversations were filled with the what if's and what nots. Then pictures and videos began to surface. Anne would come home dragging the grape vines in with her and his daughter, now at the confusing age of 12, would sit at the dinner table with nothing but fear and questions to share. Eventually the news became too large an issue to ignore and plans were made to pack and leave with a vacation in the Pacific in mind. The world never intended them to leave however.

Nine months after the rise and Abel finds himself stumbling around Missouri having been separated from the group he'd been traveling with.

Name: Luke Porter (A-K-A Arron Miller)

Age: 44

Occupation: Former C-I-A Operative

Family: Barbara Miller (Wife), Eric (Son), Roy (Father), Elizabeth (Mother). All believed to be dead though unconfirmed.

Appearance:

Wears blue jeans, a black shirt, hiking boots, a black fedora, and a St. Jude medallion he got from his father.

Luke has an athletic build at 6’1”, however he is in his mid-40s so his body is starting to show signs that he is getting older (takes a little longer for sore muscles to heal, not the fastest or strongest man in the world) but he can more than hold his own.

Blood Type: O +

Immune: Yes.

Bio: Aaron was born and raised on a farm on the outskirts of Charlottesville, Va. He was an all-state strong safety for his state championship high-school football team which got him a scholarship to UVA.

Aaron excelled at football and if he worked hard enough he might’ve had a career in the NFL. However football was not a passion with Aaron he was much more into his studies to the point they almost became an obsession with him. Aaron graduated not only a year early but with a double major in political science and criminal justice. Graduating school a year early and with a double major caught the attention of a gentleman by the name of Allen Farrell. Allen was recruiter for the C-I-A and saw great potential in Aaron. Aaron was going to be content just working as a State Trooper while pursuing a dream of joining the Secret Service, but the prospect of being a C-I-A operative was too good to pass up.

Allen was right Aaron took to his C-I-A training like a fish to water. Aaron was a natural and it seemed to have not only the intelligence for the C-I-A but the physical skills. It was during his time at Langley that Aaron met Barbara Rhodes a computer analyst. The two fell in love and were soon married and Aaron’s star within the C-I-A was on the rise. It seemed as though life was a song and Aaron was its singer. Until 9/11 and that was when everything changed.

Aaron had been trying to warn his superiors of the pending attack .Aaron had seen all the signs and Intel and knew what was coming. Once it happened Luke was called into his superiors for a meeting. Aaron thought he would be brought in on the task force that was being organized to deal with 9/11; Aaron was wrong. At the meeting his e-mails were destroyed along with his computer. The C-I-A didn’t want any evidence that was foreknowledge of the attacks. From that moment on Aaron’s work was closely watched and second guessed to the point that he couldn’t do his job effectively anymore, and he knew if he went public he would not only destroy his career but his wife’s and Allen’s as well. Aaron saw only one way out; he faked his own death.

Aaron wondered throughout the country staying mainly to low-populated areas or the backwoods. His C-I-A training and living in the country helped him to survive. Aaron’s travels eventually led him to the Amish area of Pennsylvania. One day there was a family involved in a buggy accident that was about to go over an embankment. Aaron did everything he could to save the family, but in the process exhausted himself. The family took him in and they asked his name he looked around and saw a name on the back of the dresser. He said, “Porter just call me Porter.”

As Porter recovered he was very impressed with the Amish community. Porter was impressed with how they worked together, survived on just the essentials of life, and their sense of decency and discipline. Eventually Porter began to pitch in around the community where he could, and once he was fully recovered he decided to stay among the Amish.

One night one of the elders asked him what his first name, and Porter replied, “It doesn’t matter my name is Porter now.” The elder said, “You should go with Luke, because that is where the tale of ‘The Prodigal Son’ is found in the Bible. You’ve come back to the family of humanity and we are all the better for it.” Luke thought for a moment and said, “All-right then Luke it is. Luke Porter.” However Luke’s happiness was not meant to last as he began seeing unmarked black cars appearing more and more. Luke knew it was time to go or the community would suffer, so he told the elder who gave him his name everything. The elder gave Luke his gear back, some extra food, and a blessing for his travels.

Luke continued roaming the country side and from place to place, and then the virus outbreak happened. Suddenly the agent who knew too much was a low priority and as things began to disintegrate Luke wasn’t worried anymore about if someone was chasing him from the C-I-A.

Luke’s travels eventually led him to an outpost in Cleveland. The leader of outpost was named Frank Wilson who was very kindhearted and did what he could to help others.
This was a blessing and a curse because Frank let in a group of roamers who quickly took over the outpost and turned it into a prison camp. The leader was named Doug Rodgers and he ruled with an iron fist along with his associates. Luke knew they could be taken down, but he would need help.

One day one of the guards was trying to have his way with one of the women. A guy named Ryan Bishop intervened and that led to a brawl with Bishop and a few of the guards. Bishop was holding his own, but that wasn’t going to last long and Luke jumped in and fought alongside Bishop. The two of them began to clean house until Doug threatened to start killing people if Bishop& Porter didn’t stand down. They stood down and were placed in the hot boxes in the middle of the compound and were to stay there for three days. Luke tapped in Morse code lightly on the wall and after a few seconds Ryan replied. The two men made small talk, but that was to cover their coded conversation. Within 12 hours Ryan & Luke had a plan to take Rodgers down and over the next three days they went through that plan over and over.

Finally when they were released Rodgers proclaimed that anything he and his men wanted was now theirs and that resistance was death. Ryan & Luke decided then and there was the time to execute their plan. As they began taking people out to their surprise other members of the outpost joined in, and within 20 minutes of his grand proclamation Rodgers was laying in the fetal position in the mud begging for his life.

Ryan & Luke decided to leave Rodgers to the people of the outpost. They both decided that it was time for them to move on and so they started to head west helping wherever they could and forming a close friendship. (Yes Ryan does know about Aaron Miller)

Personality: Luke is a pretty easy going guy and is very loyal to those he is friends with. Will usually try to think of a way out of a situation before acting, and has a strong moral code. He says what he means and means what he says, but he does have a bit of sarcastic streak. He sees killing zombies as setting people free from their suffering.

Equipment:
1 Compound Bow
Arrows (many of them homemade)
1 baseball bat
Survival Knife (With a compass, matches, fishing line and a hook)
A back pack with the following: A length of rope, assorted food items, bottles of water and a heavy jacket
1 Hand grenade that he kept from his first op as a souvenir; Luke figured if he ever got over run by zombies he would pull the pin and see what was next.

Name:
William Renault; Will

Appearance:

(Ignore the gages in his ears. ^^;)
Despite appearing rather thin and, frankly, frail, due to his height, Will is actually rather well built and toned, clear should anyone ever catch him with his shirt off. As to his usual outfit, he tends to stick to jeans and a t-shirt, with a good pair of hiking boots and a grey windbreaker, worn but sturdy.

Eye color:
Grey

Height/weight:
5'3", 130 lbs

Blood type:
B-, immune to the zombie virus.

Age:
16

Reason for being in the CDC facility:
His mother was in a... rather high up position- Higher than his father to be certain, and thus convinced his father to pull some strings and put Will in the presumed safe hands of the CDC facility.... Because the first lady is far, far higher up than the president.

Bio: Will was born into a fairly normal life- A normal family, a normal home, a normal school- Really, everything was decent. For the first eleven years of his life, he was happy and cool with everything. From an early age, he was a scout, all of his interests going into nature and wilderness skills. Thankfully, his family was quite supportive of the fact, and thus he had no problems going through scouts and school, help from his family available when needed, and all that fun stuff.

However, things got a bit more confusing come that eleventh year. His father, a politician for most of his life, decided it was time for the ultimate goal: He ran for president. That year in particular was extraordinarily busy, to be expected of course. What was more surprising? His father -won-. From there, Will's comfortable lifestyle became highly confusing. He and his older brother were taken from their home in Michigan down to DC, their cozy little hose turning into the great Whitehouse. All of his friends, his scout troop, his school, everything left behind. While he did manage to join the boyscouts again in his new home, it was never the same. Secret Service tailing him everywhere, never able to be on his own again. Making friends was neigh-impossible, for him and his brother both, leaving them to be basically on their own. The next four years were like that, secluded and lonely. This only made his determination to find a small amount of normalcy larger. He pushed himself harder in scouts and school to learn as much as he could, doing his best to ignore the men in suits hovering over him at all times. Archery and nature survival became massive interests for extracurricular activity, and anatomy and biology in general, alongside engineering, became his academic pursuits.

It was mere luck that the skills he studied would prove useful in the end. Four years of constant study and practice, trying to ignore the Secret Service shadowing his every move, and the solitude brought on by his father's position. All of it culminating into a rather skilled survivalist. Who knew a zombie outbreak would occur in his father's last year of office? At his mother's urging, his president pulled a few strings with his last bits of authority to put Will in the protective hands of CDC. A special order was given to a specific man to guard him after the CDC people were released- Without him knowing of course. Poor kid, always guarded...

Gear:
Pulling a few strings of his own with the "My father's the president" card, once he was put in the CDC facility, he managed to keep a small number of items from the outside with him in his cell. Reminders of life, of sorts. Among them are the items listed:

His bow, as well as a quiver of arrows. Useless in his cell, perhaps, but they hold a lot of meaning to him. The thing looks like it'd be too big for someone of his size to manage, but he seems to have no issues with it at all. Strong for his size, apparently.


100 lbs draw weight, 60" length (5 ft.)

His survival knife- Also an item of personal meaning, a gift from his old troop on making eagle scout, just a bit before the rising. A big knife, saw-bladed near the base, and about as sharp as they come. Really, thing would make more sense on a soldier. But hey, people are weird about gifts.

9" blade. Imagine it's saw-bladed at the base. >.>

His usual outfit, and a necklace made by his older brother, (Who had some decent skills in metal working) made of blackened iron, cut into the shape of a raven, Will's favorite bird.

And, an old, worn book. He doesn't seem to care how many times he reads it, enjoying it just as much every time.

Name: Emmerich Watcher
Age: 37
Occupation: CIA Open Source Officer
Specialties:
Multilingual Fluency: English, Russian, Spanish, French, Somalian, Arabic, German, American Sign Language
Interrogation & Interviewing
Computer Proficiency
Armed Combat
Unarmed Combat
Private Piloting

Family Life: Married with children, biological family deceased prior to outbreak, separated from wife and children in accordance to CDC entry
Hair: Black
Eyes: Light Hazel
Weight: 190lbs

Blood Type: B-
Immune: Yes
Gear: CDC equipment, framed family photographs

Personality: Emery is driven, serious, and observant. He possesses an above average intellect, not approaching genius level, but certainly greater than the general populace. Along with that he is slightly narcissistic, mildly sociopathic, and very materialistic. His relations with colleagues and family can be described as distant and forced by those that might look too closely, but to most he seems the ideal neighbor, coworker, and friend -even if he considers them a rather largely unnecessary nuisance=. Many people have found him charmingly dynamic, but those that are truly perceptive or the few that have known him best can tell that he is an intensely shallow character. He has considered himself to have had very few friends in his lifetime, though many would boldly claim otherwise. Those that he does manage to connect with he values dearly. When he can be among a group of the handful of people in his life that he not only tolerates but fully appreciates as well, he is at his best. When he can talk freely and unwind from the massive charade that a vast majority of his life is, he is at his best. Otherwise, he generally feels detached from those around him and will do his best to remain active through various means to dull the roar of introspection clawing at the back of his mind. While he endorses the ideal "Think you before you act.", he's been known on occasion to act erratically or immaturely simply to avoid deeper thought.

Background:
Emery's early life was mostly uneventful, though it is where most of his peculiarities stem. The third of four children, he was born into a shitty, run down neighborhood that his parents had settled in. Sirens and gunshots were regular ambiance and without the upstairs neighbors partying long into the night, it just didn't feel like home. Before his second birthday, his parents either decided they were too good for that lifestyle or their children were. They heaved the kids and what little they had to a slightly less trashy area in a whole new state. Over the next decade, his mother juggled nursing school, a night job, and an afternoon daycare while his father worked with computers and watched the kids around her schedule. It was a hectic lifestyle that they were too young to manage, yet miraculously they did, though not without a few setbacks. Emery's oldest sibling was fairly well behaved and even tempered and with a four year age difference she quickly became responsible for what her parents couldn't be. The second eldest yearned for his parent's attention, far too young to comprehend the immense sacrifices his parents were making to provide for them. He acted out regularly and a cycle of atrocious behavior formed that carried on well into his adult life. Emery on the other hand was quiet and withdrawn. Intensely introverted, he spent more time in his own head than he did interacting with others. More times than not, he was entirely forgotten at home. Family and friends could visit for days and neither see nor hear a sign of him. The only time he seemed to take interest in those outside his immediate family was if he had a question that they would have an answer to. At school things were relatively the same. The other children flocked to his brother, the rebel, but neglected to even acknowledge Emery, so he simply avoided them. Teachers though, found themselves increasingly invested in his budding mind. His voracious curiosity and appetite for knowledge, coupled with an impressive ability to process and understand information often left them stunned. Letters were sent home constantly advising his parents to appeal for early advancements, but the pair never found the time and arrangements were never made. It was then that he faced his first of many bouts with anger.

By the time Emery had entered middle school, his family had moved ten times, each new home a small bit larger, each new town a small bit nicer. His mother, a full fledged registered nurse now worked privately with children with special needs while his father taught at a local university. Finally, they had settled down, but the unfamiliarity of actual stability was jarring to Emery and he once again felt overwhelmed with anger. Rather than undergo the costly and lengthy process of therapy sessions, his parents opted to join a local church years before they settled down. They had hoped that the religious community might help to mold their children and they were mostly right. It instilled a strong moral code within Emery and gave him composure that could abate his rage. Rather than growing furious with a situation, he learned to accept that it was simply out of his control and found peace. Still, the ever curious, thoughtful mind of his whirred with more questions than answers. How could a god that loves all his creation leave them to their own devices to corrupt and destroy what he loves? Why would he choose to watch over and guide a family like his and not one of the poverty stricken, war torn, starving nations of the world? How could an all powerful, all knowing being sit idly by as bigoted politicians with their own selfish agendas guided the world without all the facts? He found issue at every turn, becoming increasingly disgusted with a religion that could worship such an uninterested "god" and any who might claim it as their own. However even with that, it would be many more years before he stopped attending church and even more before he decidedly discounted the existence of a higher power.

Soon the anger was back, but more sour and brooding. Before middle school had ended he'd been faced with an existential crisis and the only ones he felt he could talk to, his parents, followed their faith so blindly they wouldn't acknowledge a hint of worth in his issue. Deflated and devalued, Emery lost interest in school and felt as though his life had no real purpose. He had no friends to speak of, his family only put up with him because they were obligated to, there was little worth in the peace he'd found that helped quiet his anger. He wanted nothing more than to be done with all of it. Every night as he fought to sleep he found himself begging to whatever mercy God might have to spare him of his pain and just end his life. Every morning he'd wake up though and continue his normal routine: school, church, home. Over and over and over. At one point he met the young girl who would become his greatest friend, Mila. Now Mila was an entirely new breed to him. Short haired, tomboy, freethinking Mila got him out of his shell. She got him to loosen up and get out of his head first with music, then with the bottle. They became inseparable and she saved him from his depression. She was his first girlfriend, but later confessed to being gay, although not before introducing him to his future wife, Juliette.

Much like Mila, Emery and Juliette clicked instantly, effortlessly even. Her fun loving, thoughtful, caring demeanor complimented his stoic and reserved nature. She had a way right from the beginning of staring into you with those deep blue eyes and knowing you exactly for who you were, but loving you anyway. Bright, funny, persistent, and understanding she truly was the whole package. To date, she is the only person who has made him feel like he truly belonged. In honesty, before he'd met Mila he hadn't even known that it was something he wanted, but the moment he met Juliette he knew he never wanted to let it go. Throughout high school, the trio discussed life in the real world and things tended to be the same. Mila wanted to join the military, Marines specifically. She wanted the challenge, the adventure, the prestige. She felt college wasn't for her. Just a waste of time that most people feel obligated to, but for Emery college was a dream. He was ready to be done with the immaturity of high schoolers, and to leave his family far behind, and most of all to be able to learn more. Juliette mostly felt the same way, but for largely different reasons. By time graduation hit, both Mila and Emery were shipping off to Parris Island while Juliette attended a local culinary school. He could tackle his dream later, when he actually knew what he wanted to do with his life and it wouldn't send him plummeting into debt. Mila's ASVAB scores were mediocre and she shipped in under Logistics, but with Emery's stellar score he got a guaranteed Russian linguist spot.

Three months later a Marine was born and his language training came shortly thereafter. Three years in and he was enjoying his work more than he'd imagined. He knew that if he got out now, thanks to his top secret clearance and experience, he'd be an asset to quite a few three letter agencies, but he was offered a HUMINT lat move that proved more rewarding. Four long years, two new languages, and a finished Masters Degree in International Affairs later, Emery followed the money, signing on with the NCS division of the CIA as a very well paid Language Officer. With a significant hiring bonus, language use payments, and a salary just shy of six figures, he was fully ready to enjoy all things money could buy. But first, now that he was finally settling down, he would get back in touch with Juliette. Throughout his enlistment they'd stayed close just as he had with Mila, but Juliette soon began visiting whenever possible and the two began intermittent relations between his frequent deployments. Finally, he could begin seeing her regularly again. After an additional year of training they finally married just before his next deployment. After five more years with the NCS he transferred back into analysis where his career began and has been working as a supervising open source officer.

As a legitimate spy, Emmerich is not at liberty to disclose many details about line of work with his family, but when the shit hit the fan and he was briefed on the CDC mission, he fully divulged all that he knew about the matter. He was assured that while he stayed in an undisclosed location, Juliette and their two kids, Jonas and Delilah, would remain safe at Ft. Leonard in Missouri until his release.

Government Interest: Foreign Affairs; Volun'told

Age: 31
Occupation: Police Officer/ S.W.A.T
Family life: Married. Spouse whereabouts unknown. Has one twin brother.
Lauren Mitchell - Wife (Planning to introduce her later on).
Zach Mitchell - Brother (May introduce. May not.)

Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Weight: 185 lbs

Blood type: O
Immune: Yes (he does not know)
Gear:
Osprey Atmos 65 Medium Backpack:

-Emergency Survival Blanket
-Can Opener
-Bedroll
-Small Tool Kit
-Various medical scavenged medical supplies
-Compass
-Hydration Sack
-Water Filter
-Police weaponry gear
-Canned food

Indian-styled hatchet
Glock G30S

Bio: Born into a family of politicians within Washington D.C. with his brother Zach, he and his twin both, at an early age, were a handful of trouble for their parents. Neither wanted anything to do with that life, for each both had ambition to protect the country with will and strength versus words and arguments.

While Zach chose to go serve in the Marine Corps after his high school graduation, Zach chose a more domestic way to protect the United States. He joined the Police Department within the country’s capitol. As his experience within District One’s jurisdiction grew, Marcus was put in for SWAT screening as he ran the battery of test, which included a psychological test, physical test, and aptitude. With each category exceeding the minimal requirements, he went into the advanced training back at the academy as his already honed skills from the field were complimented by SWATs training regime.

With the completion of SWAT training, Marcus returned to his normal duties though extra conditioning sessions were done in his free time or a designated time with other members of SWAT. Though there were a few times he was asked to suit up, many of his responses were to domestic dealings. However, that all changed on the year 2017.

While enjoying a silent family reunion, for his brother had just returned stateside, troubling accounts had begun circulating around the District Police Departments, for homicidal rates had began to increase. Fearing the worst, District had recalled all officers back to the station. SWAT was to suit up, patrols were to be increased, for these series of murders had to be dealt with immediately.

Even with the increased military and law enforcement presence, nothing could have prepared them to deal with the panic. Marcus saw surrounded in pure pandemonium as he and his fellow squad members tried to hold back what the government had labeled as ‘Infected’. Even with the bullets slamming into their flesh, Marcus was appalled, for no human could have withstood the punishment that these ‘infected’ were enduring.

Losing contact with his brother, whom was stationed at a USAMIIRD base within D.C., Marcus and all surviving officers quickly succumbed to the infected horde as the perimeter that they were told to hold collapsed. The line had been lost.

Age: 27

Occupation: FBI: BAU

Family Life: Parents whereabouts unknown. Sibling whereabouts unknown.
Luke Walberg - Previously dating. Lost to the reanimates
Cassie Walker - Sister. Lost contact while at college.

Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green with an amber ring circling the pupil
Weight: 131 lbs

Blood type: AB
Immune: Yes (she does not know)
Gear:
Osprey Quantam Daypack
-Emergency Survival Blanket
-Bedroll
-Swiss Army All Purpose Knife
-Water Sack
-Map of the United States
-Handcrank Radio
-Basic First Aid with limited antibiotics
-Canned Food

Quiver holding up to six bows. More can be stored, but would cause too much noise, and the arrows have more chance of dropping out.

Portable Crossbow
Mountain Axe
Glock .40 S&W (Rarely used due to sound and scarcity of ammunition)
Bio: Upon graduating university, armed with a Psychology degree, Samantha was recruited into the FBI Behavior Analysis Unit. Having maintained a high academic record with copious amounts of government-based internships, she formed strong connections with individuals, which ultimately led her to having a higher advantage in acquiring the job. Passing the Agency’s agent examination, she went into BAU specialization and was soon after sent into the field.

Upon the first signs of the outbreak, she and her team assumed the crazies were nothing but doped up serial killers who method of killing turned to cannibalistic behavior. With extensive time trying to piece together why the targets acted the way they do, it was only when one of their victims reanimated did FBI declare them infected with a pathogen. Immediately, following months after the initial outbreak, the FBI had turned into permanent police to help bolster the containment force. Though a significant pool of individuals was added into the mix, it could only do so much to halt the undead tide.

Months after the outbreak, Sam long since lost communication with her superiors as she met up with survivors of which contained crazed delusional madmen and survivors who trusted no one. The one individual she was able to remain with on a permanent basis was a officer from DC, Joseph Mitchell. They both pushed towards the midwest, for the logic was sound: the further they moved away from denser areas, the less infected they would have to deal with. From securing vehicles to walking countless miles, the two arrived in Missouri where they prepare for another migration North.

Name: Ivy Ellenheart; goes by Ivy.
Age: 23
Occupation: Former Military College student, major in medical, minor in physics.
Hair: Ginger
Eyes: Brown
Weight: 157 lbs
(The older female in the pic)

Blood type: O-
Immune: No
Gear: An M24 Remington bolt action rifle. It is highly accurate and effective at long ranges. 28 7.62mm shells.
Basic survival gear, and a back pack for storage
IE: Canned goods, Swiss army knife, One man tent, heavy winter clothing, lighter summer clothing, waterproof matches, and a video recorder. (She has been able to collect film through scavenging.)

Bio: Ivy was the single daughter of Elizabeth and James Ellenheart, both of which were very involved in American politics. James was a medium ranking CIA agent. He was almost always away at work, and so was Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a one of the USA's Foreign adviser's. For this reason she was often off traveling, and seldom had time to spend with her daughter.

Elizabeth and James loved their daughter, and each other, but they had many responsibilities; so Ivy found herself being raised by a stay at home Nannie by the name of Anne. Ivy loved Anne, and would listen intently as she told stories of her past career as a nurse in the military. As it were, the idea of recruiting into the military was implanted in her at an early age. She followed the dream of being a nurse just like her aunty Anne, this was Ivy's name for her, all the way through her young life. She joined many programs during her basic schooling that allowed her to graduate with honors and immediately be accepted into the college of her choice. She chose Walden university, and soon found herself diving head first into her life long dream.

During her final year of highschool, her father retired, and Anne became much less needed then previous. Ivy kept in touch however, and they would write each other periodic letters. Ivy and Anne both loved to receive these letters, and Ivy soon learned that Anne had a granddaughter named Marrianne, or Marrie for short.

Ivy was grief stricken when she heard of Anne's a year later. She was even more distraught when she discovered that Marrie had no living parents, and Anne had been taking care of her up until this time. The child was only two, and Ivy could not let it enter the system. After many long arguments, she finally convinced her father to take the child in. Marrie was an angel, and a blessing to their home. Anne left home to go to military college, and she chose to bring Marrie with her. The child was three and Ivy was nineteen.

The first year was hell, but it improved as time went on. Ivy told Marrie that she was her older sister, and Marrie stuck to her like glue. Marrie was nine when it all began, and Ivy was just finishing her final years of training..

When Ivy's college discovered that Marrie's blood type was AB+, she was recommended for the CDC program. (will explain more about why in Marrie's bio) Ivy immediately accepted, wishing only for Marrie to be safe from what was coming. The separation was hard on both of them, but Ivy knew it wasn't permanent, and that it was for the best. Ivy managed to use her limited military connections to obtain her rifle, and the location of the CDC facility.

For the past 6 months she has been camped out in a small gas station that is near the facility. The Winter weather makes survival hard enough as it is, coupled with the zombies and her lack of real resources, Ivy is growing desperate. Soon she may have to do something reckless..

Other: Ivy has given the different types of undead certain 'nicknames'. Her military training has helped her identify the different classes. This has proven paramount to her survival these past months.

RA1: Geeks (slow moving, awkward, generally easy to avoid)
RA2: Goths (faster moving, still awkward, some recognizable intelligence (not really))
RA3: Jocks (Fast, strong, still lacking in major intelligence, highly dangerous when angry)
RA4: Plastics (Fast, Cunning, not to be crossed, hostile to everything but themselves)

Note: Ivy's gas station is the one that will be used as the meeting place for all us players (cleared by Az). It has been turned into a bunker of sorts over the past months. Ivy will be flying solo for quite a while in the beginning. I do, however have plans for a male npc to be with her for a couple posts (he has been bitten and is good with tech, ohno!) If any of yall wanna play him I would be down to let ya. Otherwise I will be managing him as well ( *Sad face* if the latter happens).

Name: Marrianne Ellenheart.
Age: Her Tenth birthday will be the day the doors open.
Occupation: Really? I mean come on, she is ten, Massachusetts isn't THAT bad (XD)
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Weight: 97 lbs
(She is the younger female pictured)

Blood type: AB+
Immune: Yes
Gear: A small teddy bear named Maxwell, she cannot sleep without him.

Bio: Marrianne's mother was a very connected person, and successful business woman. When she found out she was pregnant it brought her entire world crashing down around her. She was also deeply religious however, and refused to abort. So, as the birth got closer, and she became more obviously pregnant, she began to panic. She was completely thrown of by a 2 month premature labor, that sent her chasing after her own curtails. Desperately trying to grasp some sort of solidarity, her mind overloaded, and her heart stopped.

Marrianne was barely saved, and was given to her 85 year old Grandmother, who took care of her in a care facility with the help of a plethora of nurses and aids. After two years however, her grandmother passed away aswell, and her big sister Ivy took her in. Marrie has no memory of this time, and takes everything Ivy says about it at face value.

Marrie loves her sister, and tries to be like her every day. Before the Awakening she would watch intently as Ivy read large, and complex book she couldn't hope to understand; hoping that she might one day be able to help her sister with her training. To her, Ivy is everything, so when they were forced to separate, she lost it. Ivy, being the only one able to calm her down, retrieved something from her back pack before sending Marrie off. In her big sister's outstretched palm was a teddy. Ivy had told her that as long as the teddy was with Marrie, Ivy would be in her heart.

Marrie was forced to enter the CDC when they discovered who exactly she was. Her father had been the head of the project, and even if he couldn't come out and tell his subordinates about her, he made it his mission to see her enlisted. After a long period of debating and string pulling he managed to get her into the program under the guise of wanting to preserve America's youth. Marrie cannot know this, and does not. Ivy does however, and it proves to be yet another secret she feels horrible for keeping from Marrie.

These last nine months have been lonely for Marrie. The only thing that keeps her going is the teddy that her sister gave her before they departed.

It had come with the promise of a reunion. A promise both of the sister's intend to keep.

Name: Terry M Burnard
Age: 43
Occupation: Fireman.
Family life: Married. Wife, 3 kids all deceased.
Hair: black.
Eyes: brown.
Weight: 205 lbs.

Blood type: A+
Immune: yes
Gear:
T-burn keeps a good supply of lighters flammable, rather explosive items with him. After all, fight fire long enough and you learn how to start one, to. Other then that, he has a crowbar and his hands.

Bio: Terry, or T-Burn was living the good life. His childhood was modest, but they had more than a lot of people, and he was taught to see that and appreciate it from his parents. Terry’s father was a chief at a fire station in Texas and his mother was a social worker, so they instilled in him, an only child, that a job that didn’t help anyone wasn’t worth working. At the end of the day, you find substance and worth in the people you help. Terry’s grandfather was also a fireman for the same station, though long retired.

While his mother worked a low key job that got very little recognition (albeit good pay), his father was more known through the city. He saw that and wanted it. People respected his father because he was a good man, he respected others. So as soon as he graduated high school, he asked his father to help him through fire fighter training. After talking with both his parents, they decided to go ahead and do it.

He wasn’t the largest man, not the fastest, and not the smartest, but they called him the “Bulldog” at training because no matter what Terry wouldn’t quit. He was bullheaded and he had heart.

And the tradition of a Burnard being in the local fire department carried on for a third generation. Eventually he settled down and married and had kids of his own. Two of his own children expressed interest in fire fighting (the third more interested in banging drums and wearing black clothing) so that would have made for a potential 4th generation if it hadn’t been for the awakening. His father had retired for some time, and Terry made it to Assistant Chief and after 21 years was about to retire himself.

Then the calls started flooding in. People sick. Dying. Then attacking. Violence in the streets. But not near his home.

Not immediately anyway. Then one day, there was a call to his own house and he panicked as he and the emergency response units scrambled and headed out. They arrived at the scene and before anyone could explain what happened, shots were fired. Then more shorts. He went to make his way into the house, but was blindsided to a form who bit deeply into his forearm. He struggled with the thing and they fell on his steps, Terry landing on top. He picked up and bashed the woman’s head into the stairs, repeatedly until it stopped.

It was then that he realized it was his oldest son’s girl friend. A cop grabbed him and told Terry not to go in, they were all dead.

As the chaos around him picked up, Terry sat the numb. Then, anger over took him, anger at not being there, at failing to protect his family, anger at…the whole world. He swung his axe clean into the face of the next undead that shambled by.

Since then, he’s been killing his way east, hearing of a hold out location in South Carolina.

Name:Wesley Carter
Age: 29
Occupation: Carter's listed occupation is a Political Science Professor who's skill set is knowing how to establish a micro government as well as military experience training guerrilla troops.
Family Life: His father passed away when he was a teenager. He has a brother and was married with a child. Carter is very close with his brother Isaac. His wife and child perished shortly before Day Zero.
Body Description: Carter is 5'11 and weighs 145 lbs. Tall and thin body type with dark brown hair and brown eyes.

Blood Type: A+
Immune: Yes

Bio: Carter was born in the year 1988 to a happy father and mother in Northern Virginia. When he was 5 years old his younger brother Isaac was born. At age 16 his father passed away and his family began falling apart. He became deeply depressed as well as his brother and mother. His mother all but abandoned the brothers as she slumped deeper and deeper into her depression. Carter joined the US Army after graduating high school at age 19.

Carter passed special forces selection and served as a green beret for 5 years. He trained troops in South America and the Middle East as well as partaking in several missions in Operation Enduring Freedom. He was honorably discharged from the US Army before going on to get a degree in Political Science. After acquiring his doctorate he was hired as a professor at a local community college.

Over the years he kept in close ties with his brother Isaac who followed in his footsteps joining the Army but at an earlier age. Isaac failed out of Ranger Assessment and became a grunt. After his tour in Afghanistan Isaac was medically retired from the Army. He wound up fighting with Syrian Rebels shortly before the United States' intervention. After that he wound up fighting against the Russians in Ukraine during the Ukrainian civil war in 2014. After a lot of excitement and travel Isaac wound up returning to the United States and living with his brother and his brother's wife.

Name: Marcus D Charles
Age: 26
Occupation: 2016-2017 Tampa Bay Buccaneers Tight End.
Family life: Father/Mother/2 Sisters/4 Nephews. Unknown status.
Height: 6'6
Weight: 120kg


Blood type: A
Immune: No
Gear: Not conforming to the stereotype of football players, as a man with somewhat of an interest in science fiction and horror, Marcus has adhered to the zombie survival skills detailed by one Max Brooks. He carries a machete along with three water bottles (two currently filled) and enough dry food to last him a few weeks. In the way of firearms, he currently possess a Colt Python, along with 24 rounds. He currently wears a hiking pack to carry his equipment in, which also contains a bedroll and wind protector. He still carries his pads and helmet with him, simply for added defence.

Bio:

One of the few British players in the National Football League, Marcus grew up in the city of Canterbury. His father a teacher and mother a successful author, his background was hardly a tough one. Throughout all levels of education, Marcus took sport very seriously, preferring it over academics, although he remained very much on the positive side of average in that regard. It was basketball, rather than American Football, that first earned his interest, to which he played at a national level from a young age. Eventually, his talent earned him an international scholarship at the University of Texas, studying English Literature while playing for the Longhorns basketball program.

It was during this time that his powerful build and general interest in sport drew him to American football, or at least, developed his interest in it. Halfway through his first year, he was eventually convinced by the coaching staff to becoming a redshirt for the team, spending the first year simply at training, while playing basketball, before switching fully over to American Football when his second came around and he could at last play for the team. Playing two successful seasons at tight-end, Marcus would enter the draft in place of earning his degree, being drafted by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Earning a somewhat inflated degree of renown for joining the limited ranks of British players to reach the NFL, Marcus played somewhat above the more realistic expectations of his ability, although didn't quite measure up to the level of hype surrounding him. Nevertheless, both of his seasons were considered reasonable successes.

When the Rising took place, Marcus, along with most of the team, were away to play the St. Louis Rams, the public spectacle increased greatly in an effort to draw attention away from the impending disaster. What occurred instead, was a large mass of humans sitting in one place. It remains unknown, and likely always will be, where the first infected came from, if a member of the crowd fell to the plague while attending, or one broke in from the outside, but soon the stadium erupted into panic and anger. Marcus, along with a number of players, cheerleaders, staff and fans escaped on the coach that had shuttled the team from the airport, narrowly escaping both the zombies and the violent mass of people. The unity of this group of survivors soon broke down, along with the coach. Marcus again engineered a narrow escape, along with his current travelling companion, Maela Alba, as a number of players turned violent, the loud conflict attracting a nearby hoard. The pair have no idea if any of the group survived, but none escaped the same way as them.

Since then, the pair have been wandering, Marcus' brute strength newly developed affinity for firearms offering protection, while Maela, somewhat surprisingly, provides both survivalist and self-defence capabilities.

Name: Andre Ibagranov (calls himself Ward)
Age: 58
Occupation: Former trick shooter and gun range owner. Former Russian Army artilleryman.
Family life: Married twice. Four children. All family status unknown.
Hair: Grey.
Eyes: Blue.
Weight: 170 pounds.
Blood type: B-
Immune: Yes.
Gear: Charlie Chuckles, a 22. 4 shot revolver in his boot. An aluminum baseball bat named Luey. Dimitri, 9mm browning with 4 magazines and rounds in a bag. He also has a large backpack with assorted food items, a flashlight and a bikers jacket to stop bites. He also has an isomat and US militarry issues sleeping system (3 bag set).


Bio: Andre is crazy. Not in a kill everything, bad ass guns blazing maniacal way. At some point, he just lost his way and lost himself. Literally.

Andre is now Ward. Ward is a very eccentric individual. But wait. Let's hear about Andre.

Andre was born in Russia and served 3 years in the Soviet Army. If Andre was anything, it was naive and trusting. He even joined the Army only because a recruiter told him "it was his duty to his country." It was later discovered that he was ambidextrous and had a knack for handguns. His aim was near flawless and given a handgun for more than a day, he could perform amazing feats of speed and accuracy. Towards the end of the his tour, he was on the SA target shooting team and went up against some of the best in world tournaments, finishing with a golf and bronze medal. At one of the tournaments, he met his (first) wife, an American Airwomen who was on the US shooting team. Just like many young romances, things flared right away and the two were married. After his service was up, much to the chagrin of his family, he left to America.

After several years of married and 2 children, things changed and the two drifted apart. Eventually, she wanted a divorce and that was it. He saw his kids occasionally and ended up using his resources to open an indoor gun range. The range offered individual training and concealed weapons courses and also Sambo, the russian form of military martial arts.

It was very prestigious and he was very successful right away. Lots of people went to be trained by the exotic, charismatic Russian and just to fire. He would put on small shows occasionally if it was asked and he was a small celebrity of sorts. A few years into this, he met his next wife, someone who came for lessons and ended up talking for hours. That led to a lunch which moved to a relationship. That led to marriage and another two kids.

This marriage was a lot more successful, the woman herself was of Russian origin but that also led to issues--her family had connections with the Russian Mob. Gradually, his wife led him to training soldiers in arms and hand to hand combat, and Andre never looked past the stories he was fed: "these were family members," or "friends" or whatever would pass. And they paid. That was the most important thing.

Eventually, and totally unexpectedly, there was a joint task for raid on his range, and he was arrested. According to the FBI, Andre was a mid-level part of the Amero-Russo Mob, one of the largest organized crime organizations on the east coast. What surprised him more was that his wife was in the top tier of the organization. He'd never asked about her job as a manager at a warehouse, it wasn't the Russian way to pry and investigate one another. Couples were very autonomous.

Andre fully cooperated with the FBI though because really, he didn't know anything. To him, the people he worked with were all customers. He gave up his records because really, they would have been taken by subpoena anyway, that was made clear.

Yes, Andre was naive, and trusting.

He was released after a few days of detainment by police and found his home empty, his family gone. His business had lost all credibility now that the news portrayed him as a criminal, his business nothing but a front for a crime syndicate. Eventually he found his wife and approached her but before he could finish a sentence, a man put a gun to the back of his head and pulled the trigger. The gun however was a small caliber .22, and at the angle, the bullet hit his skull, bounced off and the flash cauterized most of the wound. There was blood, and the impact knocked him out, so they left Andre, thinking him for dead. And that day, Andre was dead.

Laying in the hospital, he feigned that he was not responsive, the events playing over in his head and eventually, due to shock, depression and PTSD (he was just shot in the head and left for dead by his wife!), he started to mentally take a downward spiral. He listened to the medical staff who had no idea who he was since the shooter had taken his ID and no family claimed him. So they simply called him Wart, for the large brown wart on his left hand.

Finally, one day he "woke up" and simply put on clothing and walked out of the hospital. Since that day, he's lived on the streets and simply lived. He started talking strangely and referred to himself as "Ward" instead of Wart, taken because he took the role of protector. He'd often give his own food and clothing to others more in need (especially mothers and fathers with kids). He'd protect the weaker homeless from bullies or gangs. Over the course of the next 8 years, he was known by most local cops and hospital staff, having been beaten, shot twice, stabbed and also investigated for several murders of gang members, but nothing stuck, mainly because he was looked at as some sort of mythical street hero. That, and the fact that cops didn't care if some bum murdered a gang member or drug lord.

Since leaving the hospital, he'd been surviving, living in the streets when the Awakening happened. To him, whether it was drug lords, drugged out homeless or flesh eating zombie, it was just another day on the street for Ward, another day of surviving.

THE MACKEY REPORT

U.S. Government Memo IRT Reanimating Outbreak.

Dr Morgon Mackey findings:

1. There is no conclusive evidence as to the outbreak being viral, bacterial, fungal, or engineered by man. All findings have been inconclusive.

2. All corpses that rose were deceased as of 14 Feb 2017 or after. Any body that's TOD was prior to that was still in whatever condition it was in prior to the events of 14 Feb.

3. Right now, there are as many as 5 but as little as two different classifications of reanimates. Evidence and unconfirmed reports indicate RAs having different speeds, tendencies, and physiology but not much factual or revealing evidence has been accumulated. There is also no evidence of what causes different characteristics in RAs at this time, although some signs are pointing to genetic make up.

4. Humans seem to have an immunity rate at somewhere between 5 and 8 percent. Those immune are immune to all forms of the outbreak.

5. The outbreak takes many forms, and as of now, we are no where close to having any idea about the original carrier. The outbreak is most quickly spread through bodily fluids of an infected individual being directly put into the blood stream. This will lead a person to begin to show signs of infection within 3 to 15 minutes. The outbreak has been confirmed to also be spread via air, water, sexually, bodily fluids and essentially all known methods a pathogen would spread.

When not bitten, the infection can sit dormant for 10 minutes to up to 36 hours, where members will start with coldlike symptoms that graduates to full on, fatal illness. During this time, carriers are highly infectious and this is believed to be the way the disease spread so rapidly.

6. The quickest, most efficient way to terminate an infected is massive brain trauma. There are other methods but they are not as clean. They can be burned, but this takes much time and is a hazard as the fire can spread as the RA moves about. Any method of destroying the body as a whole will terminate the RA, but again, the key element is the brain. Tasers or other electrical currents induced into the body will not kill an RA, but it will render them unable to move just as it would a normal human.

7. RAs do not possess any superhuman strength, but they also do not display any evidence of feeling pain. This means that, while they do not possess superhuman strength, they do not have the normal human pain reflect that makes us stop doing something. This means that when most people would stay trying to shove their arms between two narrow bars to get something, an RA will push and push and not stop. It will rip at things with as a human would try to do something to save its own life. If there is a target on the other side of glass, an RA will bash it's head against the glass to the point that it kills itself.

8. Most peculiar is that evidence almost unconditionally supports that anyone dying will reanimate, even if not exposed to the infection in any way, shape, or form. There is no immediate answer to how this is possible.

9. RAs do not show signs of starvation or anything of the sort, but will eat all it can until it literally cannot ingest anything else and the material hangs from its mouth. RAs will eat any kind of meat, raw, cooked or rancid, but will opt for that of a human over any animal.

10. They can detect noise and movement, but aren't drawn to it in a predatory manner. They will react to movement and sound but almost as if simply curious and/or alert. They do not seem to associate either with humans, as they react move vocally and in a more animated, aggressive tone with an person is visible.

11. There are documented, confirmed reports of RAs attacking one another, but there is nothing concrete that can be learned of this.

12. We're into the third day of observation but they show no signs of dehydration, starvation, or any form of weakness. In heat or cold, they are non-responsive and the only noteworthy observation is that as temperatures go colder and colder, they move more and more sluggishly. If one is frozen, it will simply become animated once thawed.

Will send next report in 3 days.

Mackey.

RP Information:
1. This RP is graphic and mature in nature. There will be death, cussing, violence and all the other good stuff.

2. This is a modern zombie survival RP. What this is NOT is a zombie shoot em up grouping of uber-badasses who kill swarms of zombies and compare kill counts. This isn't a mindless RP for kids. This RP is about characters, how they've changed, and how they interact and influence one another. It's about them constantly adapting to a shitty, ugly, and brutal world where essentially, hope is generally somewhat of a falacy or mirage off in the distance.

3. Characters will potentially die.

4. More than one character is allowed, but the limit is 3.

5. Real pictures are required for this. Not anime, drawing, sketches or CGI.

6. Be realistic. This is in regards to several things. No one will kill 50 zombies with their bare hands, or even a weapons. If they have a gun, how did they get so much ammo? Next, will you character be happy or insulated? Why? Why would YOUR character, when everyone before them has died, family and freinds are assumed dead and the ONLY certain thing is zombies are around you and will eat you, why is YOUR character happy? How do they deal with the stresses? Why don't they snap? What would they do for food? Steal? Lie? Kill? Eat humans?

If you do not have a grasp on thinking in the shoes of another, in a situation like this, then this RP is not for you.

7. This is an ADVANCED LEVEL RP. I am NOT a jerk, so as long as most posts are that level, I'm ok with it. I understand SOME posts are shorter based on circumstances. That's fine.

8. All RPG policies trump mine.

Azseth and his expectations.

1. I am demanding. I will not allow certain people to RP, I will ask people to leave. I will kill your character, without your permission, if I feel I need to. In the past, people have called me pretentious, a prick or callous, and some of those are more fitting than others. However, I do what I do, how I do it based on experience. I don't like to waste time and effort, so I cut through to the good stuff. I can deal with 90% of people disliking me, not liking me or the way I talk to people. The reason is because the other 10% (maybe 5% in reality) see the benefit. And I'm fiercely devoted to those people. Me being here is an example of that. If you stick around, who knows where this RP will go.

2. I am understanding. This means that I will NOT kill you character, or ask you to leave, or deny you just because. This means that if you're gone for a week, fine. If you tell us, all the better. If not, I will not freak out and make zombie food. It could be 2 weeks, or a month, and I will NOT kill your character.

He/She may be left somewhere, or simply go into ghost most and always be in the background, but not killed.

Now, if I PM you and you don't answer, and you're RPing elsewhere but not here, I may kill you character after several days.

In a nutshell, I reserve the right to kill your character, and if you RP here, you are acknowledging that you trust me NOT to do so on a whim.

3. If you are prone to skip out on RPs, bail on them, lose interest, find something better, not be 'into' the RP after the rush of creation dies down, then this RP is not for you.

In fact, take a moment and think. Ask "have I left one or more RPs recently simply because I lost interest? Not for any reason of the RP, or the GM, or players, but just because I, myself lost interest?" If the answer is yes, then there is a good chance you shouldn't waste your time, the other players' time, or mine. But some of you will, and if you do, eventually your character will die when you leave.

I loathe players who join RPs on a whim, then abandon them. But on the flip side, I LOVE killing your characters. A LOT.

4. You will respect all players, their characters and the site and story. One thing to keep in the back of your mind is that if you put the RP before your character and your desires for them, then you're better off.

I am not making this RP to cater to you character. I am making this RP for several people, myself included, you included. Nothing I can do will always make everyone happy. Understand that, be tough and don't take things personal and we're good.

5. There is no pace or post requirement/order here. However, I said and will always say "be respectful of other players." Part of that is not blasting out posts that forward the plot before players can react.

This is what I mean. If I post and my character says "ZOMG, there are totally like, 50 zombies and stuff. They're like, in the doors, what do we do?" The following posts should be characters reacting to this. Things should flow in terms of time. Think of things chronologically. Chars should respond, move, yell to others to get up.

What should not happen is JoeRPer has his character get up, grab his stuff, wake up all the characters, to and shoot 4 zombies and then throw a grenade out the door, which explodes and kills most of the zombies, giving them a chance to escape after JoeRPer's character then goes and runs to the back door, opening it only to find 3 more zombies that he kills then tells everyone "COME ON GUYS!"

One BLATANT "Azseth no-no" is when Character 1 asked Character 2 question, but character 1 doesn't reply because maybe their player has a hot date. So Character 2 then goes on to ask player 3 a question, because the response wasn't fast enough.

No.

Learn to wait and be patient. I understand sometimes there are OVERSIGHTS, but this is NOT ACCEPTABLE in my RPs. Period.

Now if an EVENT causes a required response to be omitted, fine. Example. Player 1 asks player 2 a question. Before he can answer, player 3 is attacked by zombies, so player 1 jumps to aid them, vice waiting for an answer while someone is getting their face eaten off.

**NOTE** ANY, every player, without exception, is going to NEED to PM me and say verbatim, or something akin to "Azseth, I have read Expectation #5 and I'm cool with that. Understood." Or ask a question if you have any.

6. I force actions and accept that to a degree. I know a lot of people FREAK THE F' out when they see this. I mean MINOR actions. A nod, a wink, a simple, "got it" so that a post doesn't end on a simple gesture which when puts the OTHER player in a position where they're expected to put out an "advanced level post" to basically have a character nod and say "got it, go on."

This also is for times when say, an explosion happens, or a zombie bursts in. I may have the character that is talking with my character react. Something basic.

When the zombie burst in, both Fuad and Jeremy turned their heads and drew their weapons."

On the flip side, be courteous to other players, and if they ask you to amend something, do it.

7. I will settle every debate, argument, or disagreement if you cannot. At that point, if you cannot handle doing what I say, leave the RP and I will kill your character. This goes back to the point about "doing what's best for the RP, not what's best for you character or ego."

Name: Maela Hernandez de Alba
Age: 23
Occupation: Tampa Bay Bucs Cheerleader
Family Life: Sprawling Latin family, status unknown.
Height: 5'7
Weight: 63kg

Blood type: B
Immune: Yes
Gear: Composite hunting bow and quiver, with 12 arrows, trailmix and a couple of weeks of dried food. Like her male companion, she also carries a hiking pack with her, containing a bedroll and another wind protector. On top of that, her pack contains a limited amount of lighter fluid, unless she's given it to Marcus to carry. She has three water bottles, one is currently full, along with a pack of sterilization tables.

Bio:

Growing up in rural Florida among a family of lower-middle class Cubans (second generation), Maela, despite being fairly typical for a head cheerleader in her public mannerisms (high school Queen Bee etc) she was both intelligent, and had a less than usual upbringing. With a father and uncle who continued to hunt, both for fun and for meat, she was taught to do so as she grew up, becoming somewhat of a survivalist, even if it never manifested in her public life. A state champion in regards to cheerleading, Maela continued to do so when she attended USF to study Finance. Not entirely a prodigy, Maela was nevertheless a successful student, in most aspects of student life, becoming somewhat more open about the non-linear interests she possessed, still remaining very much a social butterfly at the same time.

Through the last year of her degree and consequentially completing it, Maela auditioned for the Tampa Bay Bucs cheerleaders, earning her place on the squad even as she earned her degree, for the present, sticking with cheerleading rather than going into the professional world of finance. Despite a mediocre, if improving, performance by the Bucs in football, their cheerleaders remained a particular highlight and Maela enjoyed her time in spotlight, even if it eventually placed her in one of the most dangerous situations during the early days of the rising. Her short-term boyfriend, a friend of Marcus', was among those who managed to escape with them, although more likely it was Maela acting swiftly that saved all three of them, getting to the coach in time to avoid being ripped apart, by both living and dead. Unfortunately, her lover was rather less level headed than both herself and Marcus, being one of the players starting to turn violent in their panic, and she opted to not wake him to flee with the pair. His fate is unknown, but after witnessing his stressed actions, she cares little or less.

It was with her guidance that both Marcus and herself located the gear they currently carry despite the chaos of the immediate rising, before keeping their heads low, Maela providing food beyond their emergency dried rations through her ability to hunt, while Marcus provided some much needed muscle and intimidation. Recently, they have grown close enough that Maela has began to teach Marcus how to survive himself, previously having avoided doing so for fear that he'd feel he no longer needed her aid, not that he could ever catch up with her so quickly, only that is how he would perceive it.

Age: 26
Occupation: Architect
Family life: Single, no previous commitment. Was recruited for the CDC project, soon learned that her hometown, Chicago, had gotten attacked, and had heard vauge reports of it getting overrun from a security guard and gave up hope of finding her family again. She had two siblings and parents that lived in the Chicago suburbs. Kim has no hope of finding them alive again, and is in a state of depression.
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Weight: 140 LBS
Height: 5'6"

Blood type: AB
Weapon: None
Reason for Government interest: Is a well trained architect in planning and building bio-friendly and self-sufficient homes and properties. She knows how to gather and build the materials necessary for building the properties, including solar cells. While she was in the CDC she was reading up on agriculture and engineering. Also unknown to herself, she is immune to the virus. She was tested without her knowledge.

Personality: Normally a quite cheerful girl has now become depressed and self loathing after the death of her family and friends where she grew up, or so she thinks. She is locked in her own shell of defence and refuses to talk to anyone. She is reluctant to do anything part from reading nowadays. She has basically read through all the books at the CDC. It will take a lot of convincing to make her do anything else or to open up to anyone again.

Bio: Born in the states but her family is from Sweden from where she has picked up a lot of her ideals and values, including her line of work. She studied in Sweden for a number of years before she returned home. She had only worked as a architect for a year before she was recruited by the CDC. They told her that she could change and save the world, and it appealed to what she saw as right, and she could use her skills for something good.

Name: Valentina Vetrov
Age: 10 (And a half)
Occupation: Grade School Student / Child Actress
Family life: Valentina was born to a Russian immigrant father and an American mother. She was by no means the only child of the family however, being the third to be born. First came an elder brother then an elder sister. Her short life before the outbreak was, by all means, ideal. Upon settling in, his father became a successful owner of a small-medium business using his experiences in Russia, allowing her mother to raise and accompany Valentina without difficulty. Her parents never argued, never fought beyond the occasional minor incidences that only served to further reinforce their marriage. Although the children were never as close to one another as their parents, they were there for each other whenever they were needed most.

Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Silver
Height: 4 feet 8
Weight: 65 pounds


Blood type: B+
Immune: No
Gear:
Purple Hello Kitty bag (A little frayed and torn but usable)
Barbie sleeping bag
Vertov's tactical torchlight
x1 Spare AA battery (unfortunately, the torchlight needs 2)
Assorted kid's clothes (some new, some old and some torn)
Lieutenant Hugh's water canteen (normally fastened to her belt or bag)
Lieutenant Hugh's Combat Knife
Steak Knife (which she found to be just right for her)
Improvised knife (normally hiding somewhere in her clothes)
Valerie's Taurus Model 85 .38 Snub-Nosed Revolver
x1 .38 cartridge loaded in her revolver (It had become a thing for her to just save a bullet)
x30 Assorted random ammunition (mismatched bullets that she found but couldn't put into her revolver)
Normally wears a pink but dulled jacket over a yellow singlet. A pair of blue jeans and boots. An eyepatch she found somewhere but couldn't remember (all the better to cover her right eye). Lieutenant Hugh's ID Tags.
x1 Sealed bag of cashew nuts
x1 Can of corn beef (which she couldn't open yet)
Daddy's First Aid Kit (By now half-full with a bottle of antiseptics, a few rolls of bandages and band-aid)
Mommy's 'Little Red Riding Hood' (Which she no longer reads but couldn't get rid of)
Picture of herself and family (At the bottom of her bag, forgotten)

Note: This is a photo of her dating to before The Rising that lies forgotten at the bottom of her Hello Kitty bag

Bio: Once upon a time in a hospital ward, a girl was born. It took her parents and even two children months to decide upon a name, and she was christened Valentina. Valentina was born slightly premature, and sickly ever since, but with the nurture of her parents, she grew to catch up with her siblings and other kids just in time for Kindergarten. Life had never been down for her ever since. She met many friends each time she entered a new class. She loves to learn, and her parents encouraged her so.

She wanted to be like her mom and dad at the same time. Life at home and out was happy, and she rarely cried. She was bullied the first year she was in gradeschool, but her brother, Vertov, chased the bully away, and she was happy again. In school, she enjoyed stage acting, and got pretty good in it. With a strong father and a mother who was herself an actress of a few years, it was only natural that Valentina had never had much trouble in school, and became an actress herself because she thought it was fun. She was able to audition and land a few roles in a few television commercials featuring cereals, and a supporting role after that in a 2016 summer thriller movie 'Sharks Below The Line', which did well in its opening weeks.

Life was good. Valentina was so happy. Then it happened.

14 February 2017 was her 10th Birthday. Little Valentina and neither her family would know that the day she was born would be the day the entire world would be cursed.

27 February 2017 was the day she lost the sight in her right eye. While travelling with her father to the nearest gas station to purchase supplies, a gas tanker truck collided with it. She did not die as her father was able to get them both to a safe distance. "Cover your eyes, Valentina!" Her father warned her, but she did not listen, but was instead mesmerised by the explosion. It reminded her of her time on the set of her first movie, it did. A small shard of glass flew into her right eye. While it caused no permanent scar, Valentina could barely bring herself to look into a mirror anymore, for her right eye was no longer silver but milky white like the dead eye of a walking corpse.

7 March 2017 was the day she lost her elder sister to a horde of ravenous reanimates that assaulted their home. Valerie was trying to hold the front door closed and shooting out the front window with a revolver when one of them broke half the door down and bit down on her neck. It became obvious to the family that they could not hold their family suburban home. While the others were busy nearby reinforcing windows and were spared the sight but not the sound of her fate, Valentina was there at the stairs, afraid and helpless, and with her one good eye she saw it happen. Valeries was able to buy the family time to take what they can and escape by pushing through the relatively thin herd at the front door to distract the reanimates.

22 March 2017 was the day she lost her elder brother, Vertov, in a firefight against scavengers who found them taking refuge in a suburban home on the fringes of their own neighbourhood. Valentina knew one of the scavengers who was her neighbor and at one point, her babysitter. She was shocked as she saw her fire a rifle at Vertov and slew him. While her family was able to fight them off, the damage was already done. Valentina learnt that day that people could turn bad, really bad.

13 April 2017 was the day Valentina and her family was overrun and taken captive by a large group of bandits. Upon being bound and brought to their hideout, a few bandits, out of boredom, decided to toy with them, with vengeance for the many bandits the father managed to take out being a secondary goal. Despite her parents' pleas, one of the bandits took out a combat knife and carved a half-frown scar down the left side of Valentina's cheek and forced her parents to watch. The physical trauma was excruciating, but the sight of her parents breaking down and tortured was far worse. Had it not been for the timely intervention of a national guard detachment still loyal to the federal government, the results would have been far worse.

5 May 2017 was the day Valentina lost her mother to the Reanimates. Her parents were drafted for service by the national guards who saved them after they were brought to camp. "The monsters surrounded us, honey, when we were trying to save a girl about your age trapped under a rubble. I'm sorry." The lieutenant responsible for Valentina's mother had said. When Valentina reacted little instead of bursting into tears like how the lieutenant expected, the battle-hardened soldier knew: The girl was scarred not just in body, but in spirits as well, and no amount of stitches and therapy with the camp medical officer could save her completely.

20 May 2017 was the day the national guards camp was overrun. She saw her father play the hero in holding back the waves of reanimates with the M4A1 handed to him, then a Beretta, then a bayonet, and finally his fists. She saw his knuckles rip again as they pounded rotting flesh, and his father slowly torn apart as he fought with all his strength. He succumbed after giving Valentina a final look and mouthing for her to run. Valentina did not want to. She'd had enough. She'd never really smiled like she used to for months, not since her elder sister was devoured. Had it not been for the timely intervention of the same national guard lieutenant who lead her mother into battle, her story would have ended here and now.

11 June 2017 was the day she fell under the hands of a biker gang. Before then, she'd been adopted and protected by Lieutenant Hugh, but they were alone. His unit was scattered by the horde of Reanimates. The soldier was once a father himself, a really good one, and against all odds, he would somehow manage to coax a smile or two from Valentina with a cunning but kind-hearted web of talking to her about her lost family, talking to her about his lost family, and some stories of hope and a future to make her feel better. The soldier taught her a few tricks to survive on her own - how to use a knife, how to fire a revolver or pistol, and what to do behind enemy lines, though there were no more enemy lines but a whole globe. However, while travelling to a supposed safezone, Lieutenant Hugh was gunned down and killed instantly even as he was holding Valentina's hand and guiding her along gently. The leader of the biker gang forced a brand on her stomach and took her to his tent, but little did he knew that she had a shiv hiding in her jeans all along, courtesy of Lieutenant Hugh. With fiery rage erupting for the first time in Valentina, she avenged her last and final friend by thrusting it into his throat. When the deed was done, she managed to sneak away from camp.

Ever since Lieutenant Hugh's death and her vengeance, Valentina wandered on her own, indescribable tormenting pain lying like a swelling ocean beneath her tattered body. Blaming it on the world, she took to surviving by stealing supplies and even in some cases killing in the process without remorse. She'd learnt what would have been the worse lessons to learn had it been the 'wrong time', but it was the right time where murder, deceit and selfishness was the norm. Her acting skills came in handy at times to this purpose. Having been done so much wrong, she could no longer feel as much anymore, with rage and sadness becoming her new happiness, and the happiness of yesteryear, the new pain and sadness.

Overtime, as she wandered the ruins, she had managed to find several of what she called 'sleep spots', safe places that only she could access due to her size and knowledge, as most of them were located in ventilation shafts or blocked off rooms. Driven by the basest instinct to survive that she herself would not understand nor care about, she would hide caches of supplies - normally things she already carried, things that were too big and impossible to use because of her size, or even useless trinkets she saw and liked, that ultimately sated her existence for mere moments. There was very little food, however - there was never enough. But what was in even greater short supply was her family... For although she could be considered successful in this new environment, it was an empty existence without Vertov, Valeries... Her Dad and Mom...

Name: Amber Bergstrom
Age: 32
Occupation: Marine Engine Mechanic
Family life: Single, never married. Father deceased. Mother and two brothers unknown status.
Hair:Dark Brown
Eyes: Green
Weight:156 lbs
Picture:
Blood type:AB-
Immune: No

Gear:
Eberlestock Gunslinger pack - On back
Hennessey Camping hammock (with winter-proofing gear)

Heavy winter sleeping bag

Small multifuel stove

Dried food supplies (Packed in zip lock bags; meat, rice, beans, vegetables, fruit and trailmix)

Small pot

Hydration pack

Water Filtration Kit

Field rifle cleaning kit

Spare clothing

First aid kit

50 round box of .30 Carbine soft point ammunition (37 rounds left)

Camera cleaning kit

15" laptop

Toiletries + Toilet paper

Fire-starting kit (Ferro-cerium rod, char cloth, box of matches)

Take-down fishing pole

Small tackle box

In the rifle scabbard she carries a M1 Carbine mounted in a choate non-folding stock. The front hand guard replaced with a scout model with an aimpoint mounted. Around the butt of the stock she has a modified Carbine magazine pouch to fit the stock, with a pair of fifteen round magazines stored. One Fifteen round magazine loaded in the rifle.

LowePro Outback 100 - Waist, offset to left, belt and shoulder strap
Pentax K-3 Camera with 50-135mm lens attached. Two 32gb cards in the camera, two more card pocket one, and a pair of 64gb cards in card pocket two - Main pocket

Pentax 31mm pancake lens and AF540FGZ II flash - left pocket

2x 30 round magazines for Carbine, and a Foursevens Quark flashlight (2x AA batteries) - Right pocket

2x spare battery packs, pen and small pad of paper - Lid pocket

32mm Snap-on chrome-steel combination wrench (2.1 lbs, 17" long) - Custom fabbed sheetmetal holster on belt, right side.
Small, folding pair of 8x binoculars - Fabric belt pouch, right side.
Condor Hudson's Bay Knife - Leather sheath, right side

Bio:
Born in Chicago to a mother, Christine, who hailed from a wealthy family from banking, and a father, Gordon, who had worked his way up to the city council from the middle class, the second of three children, her two siblings being brothers, Jake and Daniel. Amber's early years were spent being taken care of by maids and supplementary caregivers as her parents lacked the time to give the children the attention they truly needed. Still, Christine was ecstatic to have a baby girl, and Amber's life started out as if she were a princess, spoiled and surrounded by pink dresses and luxury.

By the time she entered high school though, she had a feeling of being disconnected slightly from the image she portrayed. In the private school, she was popular and well liked, dated two of of the most popular boys. Yet she found herself privately disenchanted with the virulent nature of the act she played. It was to the point where she developed a mild neurosis of trying to scrub the lies and filth from her teeth every night. Even so, she graduated high school with honors, and had scholarships to Ivy League colleges lined up for her. She rebelled and moved out with the help of one of her friends that wasn't part of the circle her mother approved of. They moved north to Wisconsin, and sought work. After a brief stint in a fast food restaurant, and a cell-phone dealership, Amber, an eighteen year old brunette, just 5'7" and weighting 112 pounds, found herself standing before Randy Collins, a 6'2", broad shouldered, barrel chested man with arms thick with corded muscle, and a deep natural tan with obvious tan lines. His pale blonde hair shaved short, and bearing a regular ¼" stubble accentuating his gruff exterior. He wore a simple white sleeveless shirt, and heavy duck-cotton, tan contractor overalls. He was a contractor, running his own construction business, fairly well known for his perfectionism, and honesty. He gave her a chance. While the start of the job was rough, she quickly began to excel, proving to herself more than anything, that she could do it.

She stayed in construction for four years, before deciding to move on to something of a new challenge; after helping to build a new section of a shipyard, she went to a technical school and learned diesel mechanics, her apprenticeship started with a small company, that folded soon after her start, but her boss took her under his wing as he moved to to one of the Great Lakes Shipyards locations, where she has prospered, and grown from a green beginner, to a talented veteran of noted skill.

She also began to find a love of the outdoors whiles she was on her own, rather well reflected in her photographic work, she began by going camping with friends, and then looking for less RV friendly places to get out to. She began hiking, and from there, getting into 4x4 trucks, and off road driving, which she was able to apply some of her skills to, but needed to learn more. She taught herself welding, pipe bending, and how to fabricate things that she needed. Strangely though, the more she got into off road driving, the more she found it to be like the kind of camping she was trying to get away from in the first place; crowded, too many people, too much noise, not enough wilderness. It lead her to sell her tow rig, trailer and Jeep after going on a short “overland” run with some friends she had met at one of the off road meets. It was the outdoor experience she had been wanting from the start.

While her work and social life was going well, her family life was not. Essentially ostracized from her family, her mother wanting to disown her, her brothers refusing to understand her, and a father somewhat distant and ambivalent, she felt rather alone. Still, when her father called her to ask for help, she packed and left. She came to learn that he and her mother had separated, and it wasn't on good terms, Amber's brothers had sided with their mother, but the main problem was that he had just survived a heart attack that had hit when he was climbing stairs at his office, he had fallen and fractured his right arm and leg.

While they didn't exactly get along that well, Gordon agreed that he needed a change of pace, and moved back to Wisconsin to a shock he wasn't prepared for; his little girl had become a hunter, an outdoors enthusiast, a welder, and a diesel engine mechanic living in a quaint little home on a small parcel of sub-divided farm land, so far removed from the three story condo, downtown urban Chicago living she had been raised in. They were at polar opposites in their political ideals, and came to arguments frequently. He hated the fact that she had firearms, was utterly appalled that she had a concealed carry license and carried everyday. The argument took an abrupt turn however, when she revealed the fact that she had fought off two would-be rapists in the past decade, one she she didn't fire on, the other had escaped, wounded, and later arrested by police.

Over the next three years, Gordon and Amber became closer, she finally found a parent, and he finally found out who his daughter really was. He passed away in 2016, from heart failure after the sixth heart attack that year. Neither his ex-wife, nor sons made an appearance for his funeral.

A year later, she found herself wandering, trying to get out of the clutches of the arctic winds and lake-effect snows in a world that now existed after the apocalypse had struck.

Name: Werner Coetzee
Age:28
Occupation: Mechanic and wheelman
Family: Charlize Coetzee (Mother, deceased), Father (Unknown), Florenda Marino (Ex-girlfriend)

Werner stands at 6’1 weighing in at 185 lbs, with broad shoulders and lean muscle, accentuated further by an almost complete lack of body fat from a poor diet in the last nine months. His hands are rough and strong from a life of working on his vehicles, but still manage more delicate work. Werner’s right pinkie finger is missing from the first knuckle up, leaving a rounded stump. Most of his body is a mess of scars and tattoos accumulated over time, some faded, and others very new. While many might consider scars to be attractive, few would consider those that mar Werner’s skin very appealing. Most are non-uniform splashes of rough flesh from burns or road rash, but a few, like the two that dig into his cheek, have been acquired through other means. Where there are no scars, Werner has filled his skin with large and elegant tattoos, none with any deep meaning, just art.

Werner wears lace-up brown leather boots, slim-fitting jeans, a black thermal shirt beneath his grey leather jacket, mechanix gloves, and a pair of cheap wayfarer sunglasses. Werner also wears a worn coyote brown shemagh around his neck, the only keepsake he owns from his father.
Picture:
Blood Type: O-
Immune: No

Bio: Werner Coetzee never really had much of a chance at a normal life. His mother, Charlize, was a young woman who left her home to earn her fame as a showgirl in Las Vegas. The naive girl was quickly seduced by a young man with a passion for cars, who later came to be Werner’s father. His father left Charlize, never knowing she was pregnant, forcing her to bear the full burden of an infant son with no means of an income and no family in Vegas. Without any other option, Werner’s mother resorted to prostitution in order to feed her child, often neglecting her own health for his. Much to Charlize’s disappointment, Werner slid through school with few interests, barely passing his classes. He deeply yearned to know his father’s identity, but was only told that his dad’s hobby was working on vehicles.

Seeking a connection to his absent father, Werner took this to the extreme, revolving his whole world around engines. From a young age, he worked in a ratty mechanic’s shop, absorbing everything he could about the rugged vehicles that came into the garage. When he turned 16, his first action was to purchase a dirt bike, which he rode constantly both on road and off with fervent zeal. Werner dropped out of high school his final year when his mother died of AIDs, the virus acting very rapidly on her already weakened body. Seeing no future for him in his hometown, he moved to Los Angeles with nothing but his bike and the clothes on his back, similar to his mother. His goals, however, were a little more realistic. With his vast knowledge of vehicles, Werner found a job in a decent mechanic shop within the city run by an older man named Luke. The aged mechanic, witnessing Werner’s skills as a driver on race tracks, recognized his unique skill set and offered him a different type of employment in addition to working in his shop. Luke suggested that Werner serve as a getaway driver for criminals on occasion, knowing several men within the criminal network. Luke told Werner that in his youth, he did the same, and saw the same abilities in him. Werner reluctantly took the job, for his mother instilled a strong sense of morals in him, but he was desperately hurting for cash. He slowly sank into the criminal world, building a modest reputation for himself, but still retaining his strong morals.

At 24, Werner met a beautiful Italian woman of the same age at the mechanic shop when she took her beat-up car in. Having no vehicle for the night, Werner gave her a ride home and learned her name was Florenda Marino, and, like his mother, she sought fame in Hollywood. The two quickly developed an intimate relationship, with Werner constantly urging Florenda to pursue her dreams, as if to redeem his mother’s failed ones. Despite Werner’s relatively quiet disposition, the couple seemed to be made for each other. Unfortunately, after three years, Florenda broke off their relationship. She always feared he was involved in criminal activity. The apartment, while modest, was much nicer than what a mechanic could afford. Some nights, Werner would be out until the next morning, though he never reeked of booze as one would expect. She realized just how dangerous he was when he burst into their apartment with a gunshot wound to his shoulder and hastily pried the bullet out, asking her to stitch the open hole. Florenda helped him, then promptly packed her bags and left. The last time he saw the woman, her stomach was looking slightly larger than usual, but he thought nothing of it.

Werner continued his life without Florenda, though with less enthusiasm and ambition. He began questioning his life as a criminal, albeit a fairly tame one, and if it was one he could truly be proud of. Luke, however, was practically a father to him, and constantly encouraged his illegal career, so he stuck with his life as a wheelman. In the back of his mind, though, Werner felt he should become something greater than a glorified criminal. One day, a small package was delivered to the mechanic’s apartment filled with his mother’s belongings, sent by the current occupant of his run-down childhood home. He found a photo of his mother with a man whose features were very similar to his, and Werner assumed this man to be his father. He also found an unsent letter with an address in Missouri, and upon opening it discovered it was meant to be sent to his father. With these items in tow, the mechanic took a vacation and headed to Missouri in search of his dad. A few months into his search, the whole world seemed to go to shit. Survival quickly took over as a priority, but he is still searching for his father despite the chaos around him, despite the slim odds of him even being alive.

Personality: Werner doesn't ever really say much. He’s a very reserved and calm man for the most part, only speaking when needed. Werner isn’t shy, he's simply a man of few words. He is much more content to stand and listen during the conversation, absorbing everything like a sponge. Ironically, he hates being alone, and is much more comfortable in the presence of others. Werner is exceptional at reading emotions since he focuses on others so much, but has a difficult time expressing his own feelings. While he speaks with good grammar, his vocabulary is pretty limited, exhibiting his lack of a proper education. His knowledge rarely extends outside of mechanics, but he displays a very deep understanding of the entire subject.

Despite being a criminal, Werner is a reasonably moral man. He doesn't steal, take advantage of women, and keeps his vices in check. Outside of his job as a wheelman, Werner always tries to make good choices, though sometimes he fails in this endeavor. He is quick to recognize mistakes, however, and does his best to learn from them. That being said, there is a much darker side to him that few see. When backed into a corner, he is willing to do whatever is needed to survive, and these actions sometimes disturb him afterwards.

Werner is generally a very trusting and kind man, going out of his way to help others when possible. Those who are very close to him, such as Luke and Florenda, however, have his undying loyalty. He would do anything for those within this circle, even if it meant risking his own life.

Gear:
29” Crowbar
Original Colt M1911 in a shoulder holster, one mag in the pistol and two in each pants pocket
KA-BAR strapped to belt
Black Northface Recon backpack containing:
Light blanket
Spare clothes
Tooth brush, tooth paste, travel-sized shampoo
2 canned chili
2 plastic bottled water
Small tool kit
Zippo lighter
Field cleaning kit
Knife sharpener
Multitool
Duct tape
550 Para Cord
4-Cell LED Maglite
Map of Missouri
Crumpled photo of parents

Strengths:
Work Horse: Years of wrenching away and working out has built up some persistent muscle in Werner’s body.
Wheelman: Werner is an outstanding driver, capable of operating any vehicle put in front of him with ease.
Grease Monkey: With more than a decade of experience working on cars, Werner is able to repair almost anything with a motor in it.

Weaknesses:
Desert Denizen: Werner’s body is accustomed to the Southwest’s warm climate, and suffers in Missouri’s winter. He is more susceptible to illness and general sluggishness from the cold.
Old Injuries: A motorcycle accident years ago shattered Werner’s left knee, and while it has healed, long stints of jogging/running will cause him significant pain.
High School Dropout: Werner dropped out of school at the age of 18 and never was the brightest pupil, so his knowledge is limited to cars and little else.

Name: Christian Durant
Age: 34
Occupation: Previously a mechanic and a marine, now (as in; before the outbreak) a survival expert. Guides customers through wilderness, teaching them the basics of survival when dispossessed of civilization.
Family life: Divorced and single. Had a daughter who died in a car crash a year prior to him being locked up at the CDC facility. His mother has died after the outbreak (father before), as well as one of his two sisters and his ex-wife.
Hair: Dark brown.
Eyes: Blue.
Height: 6' 2".
Weight: 190 pounds.

Blood type: AB.
Immune: Yes.
Gear: None

Bio: Born in Lincoln, Nebraska, Chris grew up in a working class family. He often found himself in trouble throughout his school years, sometimes over bad grades, other times over fights and teasing and sometimes because he simply didn't show up. Both his father and mother were raging alcoholics, and as the eldest of his siblings Chris found himself fiercely protective of his two younger sisters. As Chris grew older, he dropped out of high school and started working for his (maternal) uncle as a mechanic.

It didn't take long after that before Chris' relationship with his parents reached a boiling point. While able to, Chris had opted against moving out - although he had a feeling his parents would force him eventually - as he didn't want to leave his sisters behind. Now at the age of 18, Chris had out-grown his rather short parents, and when he came home one day after work and witnessed his parents beating the crap out of one of his sisters, all hell broke loose. Chris beat up both his parents in a violent, emotional fight and contacted the authorities afterwards. His sisters were placed in foster care, while Chris himself had to undergo a psychological exam after which he had to meet a psychologist for a long period, and his sisters even longer.

Chris got his own place and continued working for his uncle while often visiting his siblings, whose foster parents were far more suited for parenthood than their biological parents had ever been. George Durant, Chris' father, committed suicide in prison. Two years passed, during which Chris returned to school and gained his high school diploma. When Chris felt his sisters were safe, he enlisted in the Marine Corps. While the saying is that "every Marine is a rifleman", Chris was specifically trained as such. He would then go on and serve three tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq, before leaving the military due to the emotional trauma and stress that came with the job.

Returning back to Lincoln, Chris got himself an apartment and started working for his uncle again. Eventually, Chris found himself being more and more drawn to rural settings, an interest sparked from watching TV-shows and documentaries about survival as well as an, according to him, almost perverse interest in the vulnerable, exposed state of being dispossessed of everything you know. He started going to meetings with people of similar minds. Among these was his future wife Claire, whom was one of the leaders of the movement. The group would often go into the wilds with bare minimum gear, helping and teaching each other how to survive and thrive.

Soon enough, Chris and Claire got married and had a daughter named Sophia. The couple started their own business, C&C's Survival, where they taught men and women of all ages how to behave in the wilderness when, for example, being lost. The business had a good bunch of years, but Chris' personal life took a very sour turn when the family one day ended up in a car crash. Sophia died as a result of her injuries, and Claire blamed Chris, who was driving, for Sophia's death. The couple soon filed for divorce, shutting down their business in the process.

As a result, Chris found himself in a depression for the first time in his life. He had had many hardships, and this, being the worst of them all, would see Chris finally crack. Tempted to turn to alcohol, Chris refused as the haunting memories of his childhood made it ever so clear that alcohol would never be an option for the man. Partially due to this, as well as his resolve and two loving sisters, Chris got himself out of the rather deep depression after nearly six months. He re-established himself as a survival expert, opening up a new business. He hadn't even been working for a month, however, before he was contacted by the CDC, explaining they had use for his expertise and offering a better pay than he could ever give himself. Gladly accepting, Chris was then relocated to the CDC facility at Fort Leonard Wood, where he would spend the next nine months imprisoned.

Name: Petra Malik
Age: 29
Occupation: United Nations Human Rights Officer
Family life: No family. She's dedicated to her job.
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Weight: 130 lbs


Blood type: O-
Immunity: Yes
Reason for Government Interest: Petra's work with the UN has been extensive. While her title is Human Rights Officer, Petra has often been at ground zero after some of the worlds greatest catastrophes. She's an expert at mobilizing aid fast and was a highly sought after as a disaster coordinator for the US Government.

Bio: Petra was born the bastard child of an impoverished prostitute in Mumbai, India. While most women in Petra's mothers position would have aborted the fetus or killed and buried the infant after birth, she decided to keep and raise the child.

Though Petra's childhood was anything but pleasant or normal (more often than not, cruel and violent), her mother and her mothers friends protected her from the life they lived. They made sure she went to school and studied hard. Her mother knew early on that she was gifted. Of course, she was quick to learn English. Although her mother never spoke of it, she overheard the other workers on occasion gossiping that the reason why she had developed such a great accent was because her father was American.

Petra entered high school at thirteen. It was tough for her to be among the older children, but she earned their respect. At fourteen her mother passed away from work-related disease. One of her teachers decided to bring her into his family and treated her as a daughter, but she only ever saw herself as a burden to them which is why she didn't hesitate to leave that house when she was able. At sixteen, she graduated high school and was recruited for a full ride scholarship to several different universities in the US and Europe. She decided on Harvard and as an Undergrad studied International Relations. Once she was finished with graduate school she immediately applied to be an intern for the UN. She always knew she would have a career in human rights. From there it was just a matter of working her way up. Eventually she was given the title of Human Rights Officer, but really had her hand in many parts of the organization including relief work. On occasion she liaised with INTERPOL to help gather evidence on international criminals involved in drug and human trafficking.

Over the years there were opportunities for her to settle down, but she never did. She held her work in the highest of regards. Petra was fearless, never afraid to face off with dangerous criminals, or put herself on the front lines with the Peacekeepers. Because of this, she was often witness to the atrocities humans committed against one another. This caused her to build up a hard exterior.

With her superiors always on her ass about “taking it easy, and being too young to be tied down with such a serious job,” she was (under protest) transferred back to the US to work a desk job determining how to allocate US aid funds and workers on an international scale. Apparently the man before her had abruptly quit and moved to Canada.

Consequently, a few weeks later she overheard some of her co workers talking about reports that the dead had been seen coming back to life. Of course she immediately dismissed it as a hoax. The dead weren't the ones to be feared.

When the “men in black” came for her a day later, it was under the guise that her company had been requested by some big wig lobbyist in D.C. who wanted to make a “significant contribution to the cause.” When she refused saying that it “wasn't her job to deal with all that bull shit,” she felt a slight prick in the back of her neck. Everything went all blurry, then black.

When she awoke, she discovered she was essentially in a prison cell. She couldn't stand being locked up.

Name: Ryan Bishop
Age: 34
Occupation: Head Scientist of 'Advanced Systems Innovation Division', US Military.
Family life: Mary Bishop - Mother- Status unknown
Doug Bishop - Father - status unknown
Francesca Bishop - Wife - Status unknown

Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Blue.
Weight: 164 Lbs

Blood type: AB
Immune: Yes.

Gear: Backpack -
bed roll, light toolbox, flashlight, box of lightbulbs, medium travel medikit, numerous canned foods, tripwire, random magazines (protection for arms)

Customised Life jacket-
packets of biscuits, Bishop & Strauss 9mm Semi automatic pistol (5rnds), x1 magazine Hollow point 9mm (12rnds), leatherman multi tool, Aluminium baton, hip flask, M67 fragmentation grenade for "emergency use".

Bio: Ryan is one of America's 'Great minds'. He grew up in a stable, loving home as an o ky child to parents Doug and Mary.
Mary was a house wife and Doug was a professional racer. He used to bring his son along to the races- where he would be left with the pit team whilst Doug raced- and found a love for mechanics.
Ryan graduated high school and gained a scholarship to MIT where he majored in Advanced Mechanical science and Aeronautic Engineering.

It was at MIT that he stumbled upon the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, a French Canadian girl by the name of Francesca Deloure, a neuroscientist studying for her PhD. The two had a spark between that was overwhelming and soon became a couple.

The couple married four years later and bought a home together, Ryans got a career straight out of college, a career that paid well, very well, and his genius and undisputed knowledge in the field of advanced weaponary saw him climb straight to the top, Head of division, in only 2 1/2 years.
His ruthless leadership and high expectations led to many replacements within his team as they simply could not meet his needs, he would say they were lazy or simply not clever enough. However expected people to be on the same level of intelligence as himself, which was unfair given his IQ.

He is a very loving and caring man outside of work, but once he steos into his lab he is all about business. Caring only for results and success, he can get irritable with people less intelligent than himself, and hates laziness.

Strengths:
Brainiac - Ryan has an extraordinary brain capable of working out tough equations and solving problems, he can think on his feet and Improvise, can create useful items out of seemingly nothing and can repair pretty much anything.

Headstrong: can keep calm and composed in even the worst of situations, can bolster morale and ease the nerves of those around him. Steps up to the plate when necessary.

Soldier boy- has basic knowledge of hand to hand combat and small arms fire due to military background.

Weaknesses:
Family man - Ryan is a very caring man and is hurt deeply at the probably loss of his beloved family. This makes him somewhat reckless with a 'nothing to live for' mentality. Should he learn that his family is alive he would stop at nothing to get to them, taking risks his intelligence wouldn't usually allow and possibly putting anyone with him in danger.

No Nonsense- Ryan believes everyone should have a focus in life ans that they should work hard to achieve it. Anyone he sees just lying around doing nothing but moaning would really aet him off and could cause confrontation withing a group.
Misc: Ryan, along with his partner Nicholas Strauss, designed and built the new Bishop and Strauss 9mm pistol. He trusts it over any other pistol and carries one with him.

Ryan is a walker, drifting along the wastes with new found best friend Luke Porter.

Name: Haiden Grant Abrams (Goes by Grant or Major Abrams)
Age: 40
Occupation: United States Marine Corp (Rank held while in service was Major)
Family life: Single. Never married. Immediate family status is unknown.
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Hazel
Weight: 200 pounds
Height: 6'3”

Blood type: AB-
Immune: No

Gear:
Tactical related gear

Modular tactical vest
Black Serpa shoulder holster
Knee pads
Double edged combat knife in black leather sheath (left leg)
Walther PPK (leather holster attached to right leg)
Beretta 92S (shoulder holster)
Colt 9mm SMG (with canvas strap to secure over shoulders)
Basic black backpack
Compass
Para cord
Two large water bottle (refillable)
Four MRE's
One large bag of trail mix
Two cans of tuna
One can open
Half eaten box of saltine crackers
1 ½ box of 9x19 Parabellum rounds (approximately 75 total rounds)
Half box of .380 rounds (approximately 30 total rounds)
Sharpening stone
Flash light
One half of a pair of binoculars
Clothing
Pair of black steel toe Rothco boots
Pair of tan colored cargos (tucked into the boots)
Tan colored canvas belt
Green colored mens muscle shirt
Green colored mens t-shirt
Tan colored army jacket
Pair of black rimmed aviators
Black leather wrist band watch (broken)
Tan colored Barret

History: Before the pandemic that turned the world upside down, Haiden was a successful squad leader in the United States Marine Corp. He was on the fast track to becoming Colonel at a pretty young age, following in his fathers foot steps who was a General himself, Haiden was an exceptional soldier. With a heart of gold and a can do attitude Haiden was among the most liked in his unit, often one to joke around and have a good time when off duty. When on duty he was more often then not strict and professional which served as a good combination for himself. It was this same attitude that earned him many citations and a medal of honor from the President of the United States.

When the pandemic started Haiden was one of the soldiers dispatched around the United States to help with evacuation and containment procedures. However what was expected to be quickly resolved turned into a catastrophe that started to spread like wild fire. Soon instead of helping people, Haiden was shooting people down like rabid animals in the street. As time continued on more and more units fell to the ravaged cities that were quickly becoming war torn. The last mission Haiden was sent on was to Missouri where him and a select number of men were to help protect a Government sanctioned CDC facility. But upon arrival at the landing zone they were attacked by relentless hordes of infected people, all the men sent were killed except for Haiden who narrowly escaped with his life down a sewer tunnel.

Soon after these events Haiden lost complete contact with his superiors and was thrown in to the dark, stranded in the hot zone he began to move deeper into the city. Hoping to possibly make it to the CDC facility to try and reconcile his mission objective. This soon proved useless however, the hordes of infected were too much for him to handle on his own. Forced to retreat and leave the city, Haiden became a lone soldier, trying to fight the good fight still for his fallen comrades. Even this thought became fruitless to Haiden, and now nine months later his only real objective now is to survive for as long as he can. Holed in a make shift shelter on the edge of town he now lives day to day not knowing if the next will be his last, but still with the will to fight for as long as he can.

Name: The Reverend Daniel McCarthy
Age: 26
Occupation: Associate Priest, Episcopal Diocese of West of Missouri
Family life: Father, mother, older sister. All presumed dead.
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Weight: 180 lbs

Immune: Yes
Gear: In addition to whatever may be available to him in the church (which is a quite a lot), he carries a generic heirloom pocket knife on his person at all times.
Blood type: B-
Immunity: Yes

Bio: Daniel was born into a loving family in Paducah, Kentucky. His parents were by no means wealthy, but provided everything he and his older sister ever needed, and even took them on a few family vacations out West with the grandparents. They grew much of their own food. Religion was always a part of his life and he was raised Baptist. The worship relied heavily on the musical talents of those in the congregation who could play and sing.

His parents bought him his first guitar when he was seven years old. He instantly fell in love with the sound and often practiced with his grandfather. When he was ten, his grandfather gave him his first banjo, an old, heavy hand-me-down that he could barely keep from sliding off his lap. Every Sunday after church the family gathered in the parlor and listened to the duo play. Daniel sang. They always began with joyous, upbeat selections, but always finished with something quiet and contemplative. Something to remind them all of the families history in the coal mines of Eastern Kentucky. It always ended in tears. He and his sister were told time after time by their grandparents just how lucky they were to have what they did, and how hard it had been for them and their friends growing up. How poor they were. It was a rich history.

His grandfather died when he was sixteen and his grandmother a few months later. It hit the family hard. He took to smoking a single cigarette whenever he played, just like his grandfather. Those last two years of high school, he focused on his music and began practicing styles from different regions of the South, then onto different regions of the world. When he was seventeen, a new youth preacher came to their church and took interest in him and his music. He offered counsel on the death of his grandparents. It was this man that inspired him to go to seminary.

He entered the University of Kentucky a few years after his sister and earned a Bachelor's in English. He took whatever religious studies electives he could. Though radically different than what he grew up with, he took an interest in the Episcopal faith and it's history and traditions. He was confirmed as an Episcopalian one year before he graduated. After that he moved on to General Theological Seminary in New York, the oldest center of theological education in the Anglican Communion. During his time there, he earned cash by performing in small venues, schools, and sometimes on the streets. He spent three years there and graduated after spring semester in 2016. Knowing he planned to spend his summer months traveling Europe, his parents invested in an open back Helix Cherry Blossom banjo for him as a graduation present. Weighing in at just over six pounds, it was easy to travel with and it didn't sacrifice much in sound quality compared to his Huber Lexington.

When he returned he was offered a position as an Associate Priest at a church in the Episcopal Diocese of West Missouri. It wasn't too far from his parents, so he took it.

Trinity, built in the early 1900s was a medium sized, beautiful old, stone-walled church. He fell in love with it and it with him. Though he was young, the parishioners took to him quickly and grew to love his music. He learned a lot from the Rector and lay ministers that took care of the place. It all seemed so perfect. He spent a short but sweet half year there before The Rising.

Dylan Carther, Former Chief of Waynesville Police force:
Age: 42
Eyes: Greenish blue
Sex: Male
Hair Color: Dark Brown

Blood Type: A+
Immune: No

Gear: A 50 Calibre long ranged rifle along with an asortment of other weaponry stored at the gas station. Winter and summer clothing, all of which is black. An assortment of different knives, it is a collection of sorts, every man needs a hobby. A simple silver wedding ring on his left index finger, it is a momento from his late wife. A wooden pipe gifted to him from his only daughter before the apocalypse.

Personality: Dylan is a strong and very self critical man, he expects the same of himself from everyone around him, and abhors immoral actions. He has recently lost a part of himself, a certain glow that used to radiate from him is now absent. He retains his kindness, but he has lost his hope for a brighter tommorow. If not for his mountain of stubborness he would have long given up on survival. Dylan has a strong sense of loyalty, and will go out of his way to put himself in danger to help others. However, he is not niave and will not stand for being used. His loyalty often clashes with his selflessness and these clashes cause quite a bit of inner turmoil. His time with the police force has given him the ability to make hard descisions in high tension situations, and he regrets alot of the things he has had to do to ensure the survival of the majority. He is slowly becoming a bitter old man and is constantly critisizing himself for it. Dylan has become a very tired person.

History: Before the apocalypse Dylan lived a peacefully life, watching over his family and the entirety of the Waynesville area of Missouri as chief of the police force. He was thought of kindly by the majority of the small town for his kindness and compassion. He put his heart into everything he did, and was an extremely well made person. Dylans family consisted of his 3 year old daughter Anna and his wife Elizabeth. He loved them both and always came home with a smile on his face, and a custom greeting for the day.

It was a mostly quiet day when the breakout begun, when suddenly an unprecedented number of calls began streaming in one after the other. Dylan managed the station as his officers went out to investigate the complaints. It was insanity and took them a good 3 hours of madness to get a handle on what was happening;

"My Husband woke up this morning and suddenly attacked me, I dont know whats come over him, he has... Oh god!" "Miss Johnson, are you still there? Miss Johnson!?"

"They are everywhere, help me please, I'm trapped in my car... The windows.. No!" " Wait Ma'am, what is outside of your car? Ma'am?"

"It bit me... Oh god it bit me.. The blood... It's everywhere... Oh God..." "Excuse me Sir I need you too speak more clearly, What.."

And then the lines went dead. The telephone comms throughout the entire city went black in an instant, everyone was panicked, but Dylan managed to calm the situation and keep things under control. After four more hours of rescues and transporting lifeless bodies too the morg, Dylan finally thought of his family. His heart skipped a beat, he hadn't contacted them once since the madness had begun and now...

He rushed home, leaving his head officer in charge in his stead, blood had plastered itself all over the greeting mat, he opened the door, finding the house in dissaray. He investigated further, calling for his wife and child with no answer in return. He stepped into the master bedroom to find Mr. Anders from next door snacking on what used to be his wifes face. Dylan lost control, reaching for his pistol he shot the man in the head three times, as the body fell forward he heard a light crunch, his breath came in small, un controlled gasps as he tossed the former undead's body aside. His wife had been torn apart and in her arms was their 3 year old child, her neck snapped under the pressure of the man he had shot.

Dylan wept, unable to comprehend what had happened. They had been so happy, everything had been going so well... Why?
It was dark when he finally left the house, unable to move the bodies of his dead family. To this day he blames the event on himself, and has only shared it with one other person.

Throughout the last nine months he has been forced with more and more impossible descisions and horrible scenarios, each one nipping a bit of his self confidence off. He is a man that does a lot of sighing and quite a bit of drinking.

Name:
William Renault; Will

Appearance:

(Ignore the gages in his ears. ^^;)
Despite appearing rather thin and, frankly, frail, due to his height, Will is actually rather well built and toned, clear should anyone ever catch him with his shirt off. As to his usual outfit, he tends to stick to jeans and a t-shirt, with a good pair of hiking boots and a grey windbreaker, worn but sturdy.

Eye color:
Grey

Height/weight:
5'3", 130 lbs

Blood type:
B-, immune to the zombie virus.

Age:
16

Reason for being in the CDC facility:
His mother was in a... rather high up position- Higher than his father to be certain, and thus convinced his father to pull some strings and put Will in the presumed safe hands of the CDC facility.... Because the first lady is far, far higher up than the president.

Bio:

Will was born into a fairly normal life- A normal family, a normal home, a normal school- Really, everything was decent. For the first eleven years of his life, he was happy and cool with everything. From an early age, he was a scout, all of his interests going into nature and wilderness skills. Thankfully, his family was quite supportive of the fact, and thus he had no problems going through scouts and school, help from his family available when needed, and all that fun stuff.

However, things got a bit more confusing come that eleventh year. His father, a politician for most of his life, decided it was time for the ultimate goal: He ran for president. That year in particular was extraordinarily busy, to be expected of course. What was more surprising? His father -won-. From there, Will's comfortable lifestyle became highly confusing. He and his older brother were taken from their home in Michigan down to DC, their cozy little hose turning into the great Whitehouse. All of his friends, his scout troop, his school, everything left behind. While he did manage to join the boyscouts again in his new home, it was never the same. Secret Service tailing him everywhere, never able to be on his own again. Making friends was neigh-impossible, for him and his brother both, leaving them to be basically on their own. The next four years were like that, secluded and lonely. This only made his determination to find a small amount of normalcy larger. He pushed himself harder in scouts and school to learn as much as he could, doing his best to ignore the men in suits hovering over him at all times. Archery and nature survival became massive interests for extracurricular activity, and anatomy and biology in general, alongside engineering, became his academic pursuits.

It was mere luck that the skills he studied would prove useful in the end. Four years of constant study and practice, trying to ignore the Secret Service shadowing his every move, and the solitude brought on by his father's position. All of it culminating into a rather skilled survivalist. Who knew a zombie outbreak would occur in his father's last year of office? At his mother's urging, his president pulled a few strings with his last bits of authority to put Will in the protective hands of CDC. A special order was given to a specific man to guard him after the CDC people were released- Without him knowing of course. Poor kid, always guarded...

Gear:
Pulling a few strings of his own with the "My father's the president" card, once he was put in the CDC facility, he managed to keep a small number of items from the outside with him in his cell. Reminders of life, of sorts. Among them are the items listed:

His bow, as well as a quiver of arrows. Useless in his cell, perhaps, but they hold a lot of meaning to him. The thing looks like it'd be too big for someone of his size to manage, but he seems to have no issues with it at all. Strong for his size, apparently.

100 lbs draw weight, 60" length (5 ft.)

His survival knife- Also an item of personal meaning, a gift from his old troop on making eagle scout, just a bit before the rising. A big knife, saw-bladed near the base, and about as sharp as they come. Really, thing would make more sense on a soldier. But hey, people are weird about gifts.

9" blade. Imagine it's saw-bladed at the base. >.>

His usual outfit, and a necklace made by his older brother, (Who had some decent skills in metal working) made of blackened iron, cut into the shape of a raven, Will's favorite bird.

And, an old, worn book. He doesn't seem to care how many times he reads it, enjoying it just as much every time.