((Note: This character is based a bit off of me. What he can do, I can do right now. Except with running. I suck at running, though I do have a good short sprint when I feel like it ^.^))
Name: James "Jay" Fillion
Age: 28
Relations: Everyone's dead.
Equipment: He has a backpack, 3 water bottles, only 1 filled, 7 packets of deer jerky [I kid you not, you get craptons of deer jerky from a deer, and much more if you shoot more than one], a hunting knife, a compound bow with 13 arrows, a shotgun with limited ammunition [33 rounds], small pair of binoculars, a roll of duct tape, a box of tissues, several neosporin tubes, nondescript black shit, brown/black trench coat, quiver, pair of combat boots, black jeans, a Minecraft baseball cap, and a hatchet. There is a belt that he holds the quiver and hatchet from. Gas mask with spare filters, heavy overcoat just as long as his trench coat. Pair of large wire cutters.
Appearance:
Personality: To be roleplayed?
Short Bio: Grew up in Texas, a ways from any town. Lived the first 2 decades or so of his life isolated from everyone else, except when in school or some school activity. When he reached high school, he switched schools, but still stayed isolated. Smarter than the average: top 10% of his class in both schools, didn't usually study or try very much. Wasn't much of an athletic kid, until people started trying to bite his head off. Then he started traveling and ended up at _______ where most of the other main characters of this story are at.
Other* (possible losses to be listed)
I am still looking for a picture.