Those that Remain [Sheets]- Post-Apocalyptic Earth Invaded

[HeySeuss]

<OOC>
<Chat>

Vladimir Manyuhin's post-apocalyptic rendering of the Lincoln Memorial.

Instructions:

- Post only character sheets here. All other talk goes to the OOC.

Character Sheet

This isn't meant insultingly, but please, no wall of text. Put spaces between paragraphs, try to format your character sheet for some sort of readability. I consider knowing how to space paragraphs part and parcel with Advanced RP. ;) Most of you won't have this issue.

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Template available here: http://titanpad.com/bHSu3DnITQ

Name:
Age: The life expectancy of humanity has dramatically increased, and maturity tends to be considered the onset of mid-to-late puberty for purposes of work and wedding. By 13, odds are that one is apprenticed in their vocation...if they have one besides labor.
Appearance:
Skills/Abilities:

- Please list with most potent skills first.
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Equipment:

- After several hundred years of post-apocalyptic civilization, all the old relic tech has definitely given out, if it was even there to be used in substantial numbers to begin with. Musketry is just making a comeback in more advanced parts of Earth.
- Equip accordingly.
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History:

The character's parentage, upbringing, social status and so forth. This should help justify the next portion.

Psychological Profile:

How your character looks at life and deals with people, shaped by their experiences. These are the fundamentals of how your character will be played, so think hard.

Relationships and Acquaintances:

Perhaps some of the characters know one another, list those acquaintances here. Talk to each other in the OOC about it.

[Evangelyne]

Name: Melody Franquis

Gender: Female

Age: 17 Years old (born during Autumn)

Origin: Independence

Appearance

• 162 Cm tall (5 foot, 5 inches)


• Slender bodyshape


• Honey blonde hair, reaches down to her shoulders


• Deep blue eyes


• Thin waist and chest, giving her a more childlike appearance


• Has a scar below her left eye


• Has a slight supination on both feet (feet pointing inward)

Skills/Abillities/Traits

Swordplay: Ever since Melodys father got killed during a raid she has practiced with his sword. Field experiance combined with devotion during training has led to her becoming quite potent in melee combat.

First aid: One of the most important aspects of being a "foot soilder" is to keep each other alive. Though she can't perform any surgeries Melody know how to stop bleeding with bandages or how to treat a sprain or a broken arm.

Motivated: Melody has a mind made out of steel. She isn't easily fazed once she has a clear goal set in mind. Can easily be mistaked for bravery or courage.

Tracking: Melody never was a good hunter, but she had a knack for tracking down animals, as well as people.

Equipment

• Her fathers sword: Too dull for slashing but still pointy enough to stab someone


• A water pouch: can store water to keep yourself refreshed for a day


• A ball of cloth: can have various uses, but it's intended as bandage


• A mirror shard: a sharp shard made out of reflective material. A bit matted but you can still see your own reflection.

History

Melody was given birth at the cost of her mothers life. With her last breathes she gave Melody her name. Melodys father, Henri Franquis, was approved to receive leave to take care of his daughter until she was mature enough to work. Once she turned five her father left her to continue his service in the militia.For the next ten years Melody helped out with whatever she could, mostly hard labour or dirty works. When asked where her mother was Melody was told that her mother sacrificed her life for Melodys and that she should work hard to make her sacrifice worthwhile. And so she did.
Melody devoted as much energy she could spare to support the community. In return she was granted permission to keep her fathers house while he was on duty. During her working years she earned quite a reputation as a reliable and hardworking person and she was desired in many tasks.

After ten years of hard work and devotion to the community she received a letter from the militia telling her that her father had died during

his service and that she could pick up his belongings at the fieldquaters. Melody cried a little, knowing she was the last living person in her family. She didn't get much time to spend with her father. But the moments they got together were the best of her life. She decided that to honor her fathers death she would pick up his sword and fight in his place.
The community council accepted reluctantly, knowing they would lose a good working asset.
Melody fought and trained hard to make her father proud as she had work hard to make her mother proud. During her years of the militia she had heard rumors and ghost stories of beings from outer space with tech not even comprehendible to human beings. Intrigued she decided to try to look deeper into these stories, seeing if they hold any truth.

Psychological profile

Melody decision making is based on a few values.
1. Do everything to promote the community.
2. Make her parents proud.
3. Always finish a given task and do it good.

Sometimes these values will go against each other and Melody will take it very hard. I'll explain why she has those values.

1. Melody has grown up mostly on her own. So the community has become kind of like a family to her since she have worked with all kinds of people there for the biggest part of her life. Therefore she feels like she is in debt to the community for letting her stay and work there. She is ready to do almost everything to promote, even kill a comrade if necessary.

2. Her real family was never a big part of her life. She never met her mother and she only had a limited time with her father. As said in the history part she was convinced by others that she would have to work hard to make up for her mothers sacrifice. So to keep making her proud she would have to do everything good and work hard. Melody becomes some kind of virtue ethicist, trying to do everything she deems as something "good" to make her parents proud. This is the reason behind she took her fathers spot in the militia. To continue his work to make him proud.

3. This is somewhat related to the former points. If she is given a task she feel compelled to finish it, even if it's too hard or wrong.

Melody isn't the one to make new friends on the spot. She feels more comfortable with taking someone as a acquaintance and then judging however she likes the person or not from a distance. Of course she can cooperate with someone if it's necessary but wouldn't have much feelings for the person.

Relationships and Acquaintances

Bjorn: Acquaintance. Melody met him during her working years. She was assigned to help the blacksmith and there she saw the beast Bjorn. He worked hard and vigorously.
The blacksmith is lucky to have such a helpful boy. Maybe someday I get to know him more.

Brandon: Close friends. Melody and Brandon applied to the militia at the same time. Since then they have trained and worked together, becoming close friends. Though sometimes they can be like day and night their strong bond of friendship remain intact.
Ugh... Do I really have to work with this goof? I guess I'll have to make it work. Be strong for father Melody.

Captain James: Friends. Captain James knew Melodys father and used to work a lot with him. When he heard Melody was going to walk in her fathers footsteps he quickly assigned himself to take care of the new recruits, making sure nothing went wrong during her training to become a soldier.
James were always a close friend to my father. He even came to visit me once in a while to keep me updated on my father and how he was doing. From this point I can start repaying him for all the good he did for me and my father.

[SyrianHamster]

Name: Bjorn Thatcher

Age: 19

Appearance: Bjorn is a giant of a man, easily reaching seven feet tall and is broad at the shoulders from six years of serving as a blacksmith’s porter and impromptu pack mule for the local community. His black hair is cropped, but he is usually seen with several weeks’ worth of full beard growth. He constantly smiles, and is missing his two front teeth. His eyes are hazel coloured. He appears some years older than he really is.

Skills/Abilities:

- Strong as an Ox: Bjorn is as strong as he is tall. Years handballing bundles of iron to and from his blacksmith master, and carrying various wares for the locals when they can’t afford a beast of burden has blessed this young man with incredible strength – although far from being considered super human, he could crush most of the locals at an arm-wrestling contest.

- Dim Light, Good Soul: Bjorn is not very bright, which makes things very black and white for him. He is able to see the good and bad in a situation without delving into philosophy, which although sometimes gets him into trouble, more often than not puts him on the right side of the law and his peers. This makes him very difficult to corrupt, or to make rebel against established authorities, rules and practices.

- Brave: When it comes to acts of courage, some describe them as bravery or stupidity depending on their view point. Well, for Bjorn it’s both. He doesn’t have the cognitive capacity to realise life’s worth, and therefore isn’t too concerned with losing it. This makes him a stalwart companion in any bar brawl, criminal apprehension - or indeed military action.

Equipment:

- Heavy iron stick, three feet long and laced with simple leather strips at the base for grip.

- Water pouch

- Winston – Male pet hamster that Bjorn carries to most places. Whenever Winston dies, Bjorn acquires another of the rodents and gives it the same name, and has done so since the age of six. Unlike a certain Baldur’s Gate character you may be thinking of, Bjorn does not see Winston as a superior being, it’s just his pet and companion.

- Satchel of food, containing mostly bread, dried fruit and some jerky. Bjorn is used to being on the move, and keeps it constantly stocked, as well as can be practiced.

- Iron capped leather work boots. Size 14.

- Well worn map of the local area. (Only Bjorn can read it, as the place names are replaced by various squiggles that he alone can decypher)

History:

Bjorn has never met his parents. They cast him away at the roadside when they were wrongly informed that he was irreversibly brain damaged due to complications at birth, and was left deaf, dumb and blind as a result.

Saved from certain death by a roaming huntsman who showed him pity, Bjorn was interred into the care of the local community. Opinion was divided at first, as even the most untested child carers knew instantly that Bjorn was ‘handicapped’. The town did not need another mouth to feed, another soul to look after; especially when afore mentioned soul seemed incapable of paying back his dues in later life.

However it was through the mercy of one of the local blacksmiths that Bjorn’s life was once again saved from the premature judgement of others. Raising him not quite as his own son, but more as a much loved dog, the blacksmith came to realise there was a faint light behind those eye and started to teach him life's basics. At age six, the young orphan started to speak his first words, much to the community’s astonished delight. Alas, Bjorn could not grasp written words, or numbers, and this quickly limited his place in an already prejudiced society.

Still, he could see, and he could hear. The blacksmith marvelled in Bjorn’s dedication to simple tasks, and soon started using him to run simple errands. Whether it was carrying packs of iron to the forge, or finished goods to their destination, Bjorn was the man for the job. He never strayed from his path, never tampered with the goods he was charged with, and never let the prying eyes of others peer into the parcels he held.

Soon others within the community came to Bjorn, with the blacksmith’s blessing, to ask for similar favours. Sometimes it was to help someone move house, other times it was to help deliver a discreet package. He never saw any of the currency paid for his services, but then he never really understood currency, so this did not bother him. As long as the blacksmith supplied him with food and water, he was as happy as could be.

Psychological Profile:

Bjorn is as already stated, a simple minded fellow. He has the mental age of a nine year old, and this is unlikely to increase. This makes him very trusting of people, unless they are going against the status quo, or are trying to coerce him into doing something he has been specifically requested not to do. He rarely learns from past mistakes, unless they were significantly painful or traumatic. He has no real understanding of death, and believes Winston is the same hamster he has always had simply because he calls it the same name as the original.

Although he lacks the cognitive capacity to learn anything related to words and numbers, he has a good practical mind and can be trained to carry out certain tasks – if the trainer can hold his attention long enough.

If someone is able to gain Bjorn’s trust, he will come to view them as an authority figure, and obey them joyfully.

Relationships and Acquaintances:

Brandon Walker - Bjorn is no stranger to Brandon, having delivered him and his family various wares from his blacksmith master over the years. What started as very brief, but polite doorstep conversation blossomed into Bjorn's longer vocal streaks, and the two know each other fairly well. Bjorn likes Brandon, because he is friendly and is capable of communicating in a way that Bjorn's simple mind can understand. On a couple of occaisions, Bjorn has looked after Brandon's younger siblings for short periods of time, and enjoys their company immensely.

Abraham - Bjorn' original saviour. Bjorn does not know anything about him however, having never been told about his ever so lucky beginnings in life.

Jon Hanock - A local blacksmith, who is a dominant economic force within the community. He is Bjorn's chief benefactor, but in no way a father. He looks after Bjorn's general well being, and is very protective of him, but treats him more as a valuable business asset than a son.

Melody - Bjorn has crossed her path several times over the years, usually during menial labour work. Like Brandon, she is capable of communicating in a way that appeals to Bjorn's lower brain function, and has saved him from punishment on a few occaisions by taking the blame for his work-related mistakes. As a result, Bjorn is fond of her, and she is one of the few people who he will stop to talk to in the street, errands be damned.

[MelonHead]

-removed-

[Blue Dog]

I'll put up a sheet for the siblings a little later, but here's Brandon for now.

Name: Brandon Walker

Age:16

Appearance:
185 pounds(I wanted to make him a bit thinner than I normally would considering the scaricity of food in the dark ages)60 %muscle

6'00 slim but muscular

Black hair, slight facial stubble

Green eyes

Clear, slightly pale, complection

Skills/abilities( totally flexible, let me know if something needs changed):

Bow: Not having been able to afford one of the pricy muskets his family have always relied on bows. Which has always been fine with them. They believe more in the quet of a bow anyway, it means more food in the long run.

Hunting: Years of relying on hunting as the only means of putting food on the table made it necessary that he take to heart the lessons learned by his parents and sister. Years of practice only refined those skills.

Hand to hand: While not skilled in any fancy fighting styles his level headed approach to picking fights, and his higher than average pain tolerance, ensures he wins most of the fights he gets into.

Charm. Years of talking to only his immediate family has left him as perhaps not the most charming of people, but having learned from observance while his sister traded for the goods they couldn't hunt taught him a thing or two about people. Having to take over that trade when his sister disappeared made him put those observations to the test, and taught him how to talk. While he may not be the most charming of people, he does have some skill in this area.

Equipment:

Bow: perhaps his most important possession. While his father taught him how to make one from scratch the one he has now has been passed down for generations, and was handed to him by his sister after their first successful hunt as a team, and he has a large psychological attachment to it.

Canteen: essential to survival, especially during particularly long hunts.

Knife: used to finish off a an animal,also he's not bad with it hand to hand

Leather duster

Psychological:

His overall demeanor is laid back, goofy, gentle, and kind hearted.However, this can change very quickly if someone he feels responsible for is threatened. Then he turns into a raging bull of fury. It only passes when the threat is over.

He's loyal to a fault.

Though he never believed his sister had just decided to abandon her family one day,still, her disappearance hurt him deeply, especially with how much he looked up to her. This has made it near impossible for him to admire anyone else

History: Brandon Walker and his siblings, Amy and Alex, lost their parents when they were young. The responsibility of raising them fell oh his sister, who was only a little older, Sarah at 15. Brandon was 10, Alex was 5, and Amy was 2.

Despite the difficulty of feeding three mouths Sarah managed to feed them, and give them all the love she could. Her parents had taught her hunting, gathering, and tracking. Her parents had also begun to train Brandon in these skills as well and, when they could find someone to put an eye on Amy and Alex, she would take him out to hone his skills, but when they couldn't Brandon would watch them. The day Sarah disappeared he wasn't with her. Brandon was 13 when he had to take over breadwinning for his family.

Three years passed by realitivly uneventfully. Brandon struggled to put food on the table, and give his siblings the same love his sister and parents would have. He started to teach his siblings the beginnings of hunting, and they were happy. Until one day when Amy became sick. At first Brandon hoped it was just a spring fever, but when she only got worse with time those hopes were dashed.

He finally hired a healer with the meager savings he had from his trades, and she reluctantly told him his sister had yellow fever, a death sentence. The healer did give him one ray of hope however, there was a medicine his sister could take, though it was very expensive. Brandon knew the only way he could afford the medicine was by joining the militia. Reluctantly he left his family.

Relationships: Amy and Alex Walker- older brother/parental figure though since he gets to see them far less than he would like, he at least can take comfort knowing Bjorne will look in on them, and that they have Alex's dog Scrap.
He also takes comfort knowing that they can live more comfortably for his sacrifice, and tries to make the most of his visits.

Melody Franquis- Close friend/ colleague he treats her a bit like a kid sister at times, but he finds her frustration and seriousness humorous

Though he hasn't said it, when he first had to leave his siblings it hurt so much he couldn't breathe. He didn't know how he was going to survive in the militia, so far from home, and then he got put to work with melody. He feels very lucky to have made a friend, and because he cares for her he directs her protective nature toward her.

Bjorne: he originally knew Bjorne through his dealings with the blacksmith, and brief polite conversations alone. However he soon came to know him to be reliable, and developed a friendship with him. His experience raising his siblings gave him the skill to converse on the simple level necessary to understand Bjorne. He also came to know him as one of the few he could trust with his siblings alone. When he went to join the militia he asked him to check in when he could, and was able to trust that with Bjorne keeping an eye on Amy and Alex at least no one would dare hurt them.

( I may make a CS for Mada)

[ApocalypticaGM]

Name: Guamá Heylel

Age: 24

Appearance: Guamá stands an average height with relation to his father's tribe, though he is worrisomely slender. Hollow cheeks with high, defined bones give him a lengthy, gaunt -- eerie to some-- appearance. His skin is tan with a warm, earthy hue. While his walk and speech are in line with the 'civilized', his mannerisms are clearly more emotive, underscored by his thin limbs.

Skills/Abilities:

- Cultural Awareness: Shi'mon uses his own mixed heritage as a springboard. He listens to the traditions and stories of other peoples, noting how the customs relate and differ.

- Velvet Tongue: Words can enliven, imprison, enrage, and endanger. Shi'mon uses speech as his first weapon and defence, more apt to play on what he observes in another than to tempt fate in combat.

- Body Conscious: The world is often harsh and unpredictable, so Guamá keeps his connection to it honed. He sees his body as his vehicle. A strict diet mixed with yoga-like exercise has given him a realistic view of his limitations and comfort in his own skin.

- Trained in Leathercraft: Guamá offered his body to the community despite greater strength in the mind. Tanning and leathercraft became his physical contribution to society. The skills he holds today are passed down from his father, allowing him the ability to work leather in civilized or tribal style.

Equipment:

- Crafting Tools: The tools of his trade are essential, as are the basic pieces to keep them operable. He has a set to travel with due to his regular visits into Arawakan territory.
- Ceramic Water Jug: Tall as one and a half lengths of the hand, the jug is wrapped in a thick leather for protection. Guamá uses ceramic in order to allow heating the jug, as advised by his mother when travelling.
- Macana: A common weapon among the Arawakan tribes, Guamá keeps one made of hardened wood with sharpened black stones for the edges. He has fashioned a grip at the end made of leather and maintains his macana with pride.
- Leather Satchel: Food, basic supplies, and items of interest lie in Guamá's satchel. It is the third bag he has made, and each incarnation has adapted to suite his needs. This one is specifically designed to sit close to the body with as much quickly accessible as is reasonably possible.
-Leather Gear: Atop fabric garments, Guamá will wear a poncho made of boiled around the shoulders and softens as it drapes down his crotch. He has created wrapped leather shoes, fingerless long gloves, and a spaulder. Besides the poncho and boots, he generally keeps the gear in his satchel or at home until the need arises.

History:

Guamá is the product of two powerful cultures. An objective scholar to the core, his mother gifted him with an undeniable link to the 'civilized' community. His father connected him to a progressive western tribe. The Arawakan peoples understood the importance of structure, governance, and a system of support, but according to his father, they were not keen to the idea of building lives atop a fallen society. His mother would point out the logic to that based on her studies. They always built off one another, aware of the cultural gap, but positive that understanding would solve all woes.

The Heylel family lived in the western portion of civilized Independence community. Such proximity to the border meant more exposure to tribal communities and usually less controversy. Because Guamá was born in the community, his deep tribal ties made him an object of desire. In their section of the community education was compulsory (in order to keep the peace, according to his mother). During lessons he was often asked to speak on behalf of all 'non-civilized' cultures and fetishized for his 'exotic' background. Leather work became Guamá's path to accepting his identity. Working alongside his father, he learned Arawakan and 'civilized' styles of leathercraft, as well as imagery he could carve into the armour speaking to stories of both peoples. He learned to see how others viewed him, then to use that to his benefit.

When Guamá reached sixteen his parents recognized their age. While his mother maintained a professional distance from any faith-community, his father felt the Arawakan beliefs to his very core. Guamá suspected the move also had to do their daughter, born eight years later, and her rambunctious ways. So with the help of their son, the three joined the Arawakan people. Since then Guamá has worked hard and taken apprentices in order to continue his family's good name. He travels to visit his parents and sister each season, taking the opportunity to stock up on uniquely Arawakan goods. Every couple months his sister, Anacaona, will stay with him for weeks at a time.

Psychological Profile:

Guamá is softer than his sister. While he has been treated as different all his life, he has also refused to identify with the alienated. Some may attempt to cast him out or will disagree with him solely due to his roots, but he retaliates by refining his arguments in as agreeable a way possible. Guamá truly believes that by pleasing others he can be seen no different from them and accepted.

Exposed to the Arawakan and 'civilized' ways of life, he has strong opinion on society. Building off a collapsed people feels strange despite his loose adherence to superstition -- similar, to him, to camping on a graveyard. Guamá sees power in the tightly laced community of the Arawakan, but also values the freedom and ability to grow outside their people. He scowls at the idea of a 'civilized' people having seen the character of both communities. Like the Arawakan, he usually calls opposite community 'Reclaimers' for their aspirations for Lost Ways.

Finally, Guamá finds himself highly reflexive as of late. Since Anacaona apprenticed in hunting, tracking, and weapon craft, she has grown to be the opposite of him in many ways. The two agree that neither community stands superior. They also agree that a bridge can be made between the peoples. Where Guamá will speak softly, however, Anacaona comes in haughty and sharp. He is receptive, she is assertive. Guamá sees a power in her both physically and mentally, and honestly, he admires such strength.

Relationships and Acquaintances:

Anacaona Heylel: Sister, 16 years, Close
Family Heylel: Parents, 38-40 years, Close

((Open to more IC Connections))

[Capt Kiwi]

I apologize if it's a bit too much. Let me know if anything needs to be changed!

Name: Abraham "Abe" Tobias
Age: 39
Appearance: Abraham is slightly above average height for a male of his age. Traveling as he does has kept him in nearly peak physical shape. Light brown hair falls down to his shoulders, naturally sweeping to the left with one braided strand hanging from the right. He keeps his beard trimmed neatly with his knife. His time spent in the sun has left him with a tan skin tone and a slightly lighter hair color than would be natural. His age is shown in his face and his occupation denoted from body features: keen physical health, scarring from tussles with wild animals and the occasional bandit, and calloused hands from his skinning and hunting.

Notable Features: Scarred claw marks from his left forearm down to his half-missing pinky finger from a hunt gone south and a tattoo on the under side of his right forearm. The tattoo holds his family crest and home village crest in a circle for identification were he to come down a terrible case of the deads.

Skills/Abilities:

- The Huntsman: Abraham is a hunter through and through and has been for 20+ years. Given this time, he's garnered an impressive competence with tracking and archery, the two traits most vital to his livelihood.
- The Survivor: Time spent roaming the forests, wastelands, and marshes has taught Abraham how to take care of himself. Harsh conditions, poison fruits, and dangerous creatures are not too often fretted over.
- The Wanderer: In his 30 or so years spent traveling the lands, Abraham has become a sort of natural explorer. He's got a great sense of direction and can easily navigate the areas between quite a few communities.
- The Connected: Traveling from commune to commune has given Abraham a large list of connections were he to need any information or certain services.

Equipment:

- Partially filled, large leather satchel with multiple pockets for furs, food, and other trinkets and items valuable in trades or survival.
- Long, quality bow and quiver full of arrows.
- 2 Flasks of water for the long trips.
- Multi-purpose knife (not necessarily a combat knife, just a tool)

History:

Abraham was born and raised fairly normal under the conditions people live in these days. He is a hunter and trader, like his father before him and his father before him and his father before him. Once he was of age, Abraham's father showed him the tricks of the trade: tracking, skinning, aiming, and survival in the wilderness. They would go on hunts together and travel to nearby communes. The merchants and traders of the local communities were familiar with the Tobias hunters and welcomed the young Huntsman-in-training.Years pass and Abraham's father grows sick and too weak to continue the hunt. From then, at the age of 18, Abraham officially took over as the new Tobias Huntsman.

Two more years. Abraham finds himself at the strong age of 20, traveling down a beaten road leading to a fairly distant community, one that isn't visited by his family quite as often as many others, but visited nonetheless. It's not often Abraham runs into civilians traveling these roads. Most people who aren't bandits, guarded merchants, or militia these days tend to stay close to the confines of their (usually) well protected homes. This day was different. On this day, Abraham passed a group of 3: A woman and two men. One man dressed in fairly nice clothing denoting a high class profession, a risky choice to be walking this road with no guardsmen. If Abraham were a more...immoral individual, he would find himself with a nice new coat and if he's lucky some of the luxury spices he'd been hearing so much about. But alas, he was raised better. The other two seemed to be simple folk wearing simple clothing. The group passed by the young Huntsman without so much as a glance. A few hours of walking and Abraham pops open a flask as he takes a rest on a fallen tree by the side of the road. Looking out over the embankment, he notices something. Something small, but...moving. He docks an arrow on his bow in the hopes he'd found a nice rabbit and begins creeping down the hill for an opening. As he draws closer, a noise denotes that it is no rabbit, but a child. An infant, wrapped in a blanket, placed underneath a tree. He lowers his weapon as he approaches. Nothing else around. No tracks indicating movement further into the wilderness, only back up the embankment towards the road. Abraham picks up the still very-much-alive infant and unwraps him a bit. "Not much of a looker, eh?" He scanned the area once more. Still nobody. He ponders for a moment before settling on his gut feeling as he wraps the kid tightly, ties his bow to his satchel and heads off with the kid down the road. After reaching the nearest community, Abraham tells the story to a local blacksmith he was bartering with. Abraham, being at a young age himself, in the middle of a slightly perilous journey, realizes he cannot tend to the kid safely while on the road and leaves the child in the care of the Blacksmith before heading on his way to the next community.

Fast forward 19 years. Abraham is now 39 years old. He has a sweetheart back in his home village, though not yet married and still no children. He's been hunting for over 20 years now and has nearly perfected his art. He finds himself on the road again with only his usual belongings. Tracking a herd on a detour to the nearest town.

Psychological Profile:

Abraham doesn't spend much time around a lot of people. Having spent the majority of his life traveling the wilderness with nothing but the trees and the wind, he's grown accustomed to the serenity of solitude. He prefers to work alone, not due to mistrust or tragic events, but out of comfort. Being alone in the wilderness also leaves a man with a lot of time to think. It makes for a quiet individual. As such, when he is actually around people, he's more of a listener than a speaker.

Though he finds himself longing for the touch of his sweetheart or the laughter of his friends back home, Abraham finds value in solitude. Perhaps in the older days he would have been diagnosed with a sort of psychological antisocial disorder, but here? Here, he is just a quiet man who often keeps to himself making an honest living off of hard work. He's no thief. He's no corrupt merchant. And he's no immoral hound roaming the lowlands. No, he is merely a roaming huntsman keeping an eye out for the next catch or commune.

Relationships and Acquaintances:

-

[Blue Dog]

Name: Alex Walker

Age: 11

Appearance: 115 pounds 40% muscle

5'0

Brown hair

Pale blue eyes

Fair pale skin

Skills/Abilities:

Hand-to-Hand: despite his age and size his fiery temper makes him scrappy in a fight

Literacy: an uncommon skill in the age they live in

Tracking: despite not being very good at hunting yet, he took to this skill quickly. He does still have a lot to learn, however.

Bravery: it's more of childish fool heartiness than anything, but with the loyalty he has developed from his family, this will one day grow into one of his finer attributes.

Equipment

Scrap: his loyal dog who he's never seen without, and whom he had to beg his brother to let him keep. His brother was less than eager to take on another mouth, but he turned out to be a great mouser, so it wasn't much of a problem.

Bow: While having little to no skill in using it he built it himself and he's quite proud of it. It's far from a work of art, but it's still something good for a him to practice with.

Deck of cards: his brother was reluctant to buy something so frivolous, but it had always been hard for him to say no to his siblings. Besides, it was something fun for his brother and sister to do together.

Psychological: Rambuctous and short of temper, he tends to get into more fights than Brandon would like, and more than a small amount of whoopings. Still he does have a gentle side exhibited by his care for his dog, and his absolute adoration of his younger sister. He's not a bad kid, he's just got what his older sister used to call a "wandering spirit". He hates to sit still and would much rather spend his time adventuring like he think his older brother does.

He looks up to Brandon so much it borders on hero worship.

He detests being treated like a " little kid".

History: When Brandon left he felt like he had to take over as the man of the house

He doesn't remember much of his parents or sister, though he knows they loved him, and he loved them. This has caused him to look up to Brandon more like a father than an older brother, and ever since he joined the militia Alex has started to look up to him as some kind of action hero.

After his brother left, however, he's tried to be more of an adult for his little sister. Nursing over her when she's bed stricken and making sure she gets out when she's feeling up to it. Despite his brother visiting as often as possible, a large bit of responsibility does now rest on him. Though the money his brother makes not necessary for the medicine does make their lives easier. Even giving them enough money to hire a tutor to teach them.

Relationships: Brandon Walker: Older brother/ parental figure/ hero
Scrap: loyal dog
Amy Walker: beloved little sister

Name: Amy Walker

Age:8

Appearance: 75 pounds 30% muscle
4'6
Blond curly long hair worn back in a bow
Light blue eyes
Pale, but with a certain light to her personality that gives her almost a glow

Skills/Abilities: Charm- people can't help but adore Amy, she gets into your heart and plants roots. This makes it so the community will go to great length to make her happy. Not that she would ever take advantage.

First Aid: despite this being a skill none of her family possess she's always had a natural affinity, and love for the craft. She enjoys the fact that she has so much to learn, and cherishes her time with Mada the healer that treated her appoints to train her

Gathering: She's too gentle to be any good at hunting, but she's got a remarkable memory for edible plants.

Literacy

Equipment:

First aid kit- Mada gave her this, after accepting her as her apprentice. Mada like most fell in love with Amy.

Gold necklace: passed down to her from Sarah, she wears it everywhere.

Book of Fairy Tales: Amy loves to read, and was given this book by one of the communities few literate people, her fan the Baker. She's thumbed through it a million times.

Psychological: Amy is the kind of a adorable little girl that everyone loves. She cares about everyone's a feelings, and tries to make everyone happy. She loves animals and they love her. She loves her brothers, and luckily doesn't remember enough of her parents and sister for the absence to hurt as much as it does for her older siblings.

She is, however hampered by her illness. Despite her brother giving up his freedom to help her have a normal life, the medicine isn't perfect. She likes to play, but gets exhausted easily. Amy feels guilty that her brothers have had to give up so much to care for her.

History: ( I didn't really feel like I had much to put here) Ever since Amy has started to recover she has put as much effort into living as possible to make the sacrifices they've made worthwhile. She learns as fervently as possible from her tutor, helps around the community when she can, and tries to be as good an apprentice as possible.

Her fondest wish is to be an important member of the community so she can make her family proud.

Relationships: Brandon Walker: Older brother and parental figure
Alex Walker: older brother
Mada Mentor and friend

[Girlie Go Boom]

This is Desiree

Name: Desiree Anne Simone-Lacroix

But only my family... they mostly call me: “Diz.” Hey... I said: 'Only my family...'

Age:  26

I'm the middle child, 2 years younger than my fraternal twin sisters and 3 years older than our baby bro.

Appearance:

I'm a big gal. Almost six foot, and don't ask about my weight, 'kay? I'm all muscle. And I hit. Hard. And often.
I got my Mama's curves, legs n' green eyes; sexy, sharp and a'glintin'.
I got my Daddy's height n' brown hair; wavy n' thick.
I got Granny's nose; I can smell your BS a mile a'ways and sometimes I don't give a sniff about y'all.
I got Pappy's mouth and chin; smart and smilie, but stiff lipped and chin up proud.
What else? I don't wear skirts. If it's camo or black, I like it. I don't mind if it's tight. Cuz, I got a cute ass, ... hahahah...! I got lots of scars on my body. They're not ugly. And all Hells yes, they're very lady-like, 'kay? I'm a god-be-damned Lacroix. And I have my Gran's initials tattooed on my butt. No joke. Ask my family. We all have the same tat.

Origin:

Anthastiln. Hey, c'mon now, I'm a Lacroix, born and bred river gal from the Anth. But right now, me, my sisters and little bro are kinda' out there on our own. I'm in Independence right now. And them... where the hells are all of you...?!

Skills/Abilities:

Tenacity – I just do not give up. Ever. Tell me I can't and I will show ya I can and shove it down your throat. Unstoppable. I don't just train my body, neither, I hone my will with a steady mind.
Combat – I've been fighting all my life. I'm a damned Lacroix for Ol' Missus sake. I'm all geared up for it too. But ya wanna do it one-on-one? Let's do this. I'm one tough bitch. Try me...
Survival – yeah... check the above references, mister...
Stealth – it's how a Cleaner does it. Quiet; It's part of my life. That's why I don't have many friends; they talk too damned much.
Climbing – Like a squirrel... yeah, I'm cute.
 
- La Laveuse (The Cleaner): You need someone to do the job quick, efficient and quietly. It will be done and the bodies will disappear. It's what we do best.

Equipment:

Combat gear: Short sword, parrying dagger, 'Once' - her repeat fire crossbow, arrows, combat fatigues, bandanna, boots, gloves.
Spy glass and case
Water flask
Hunting knife and honing stone
(the hunting knife is hidden upon her person, all other gear is hidden away right now and not so easily accessed)

History:

I'm a Lacroix girl from the Anth. What else do you need me to say? We have money, property, boats and clout. Elle Veronique Iris-Lacroix. All Hells yes, you know my Granny. She's that Elle Veronique.

I grew up in a whopper of a mansion. It was a restored French colonial from way back when. My maman is Simone Mathilde Elle-Lacroix, and her husband is Trevor, a riverboat gambler owner. Like pretty much all Lacroix children, we barely saw our fathers as kids. Our daddies just married into our family for status and prestige. Maman and her sisters, Joyeuse Helene and Amelie Katherine raised all of us... and trained us to be real Lacroix women. Needless to say you know what kind of river gal I am.

From the time we could walk, we were in the business of learning about the business. You can't keep that last name unless you knew about three things: power, money and influence. Elle Veronique would have it no other way.

You'd think being a Lacroix was like living on easy street, but no, I wasn't the daughter of Auntie Joyeuse, the first born. Maman Joy and my cousins, Monique and Travis were in charge of money. They were the fat cats. Auntie Amelie was the youngest.. Maman Ams and my cousins Roberto, Belle, Cherie and Clarisse were the in charge of influence. They were the political and social darlings. Maman Simone was the middle child and being the second born, her kids were meant to be the handlers of the power. Me, my fraternal twin sisters, Hanna and Danielle, and our little brother Cameron were the ones that made sure things went smoothly. Even it meant cracking some skulls and washing Lacroix hands.

That's where Uncle Edouard came in. That harsh ol' bastard.

The Maman Lacroix's oldest brother was just a scrawny little thing when he was sent to the '29. When he came out, he was some other kind of badass. That badassery was what he taught me, Hanni, Danni and Cam. We were nails and he was the maniacal hammer. He pounded us. Daily. Nightly. And he enjoyed it. He enjoyed putting us through all Hells. But as we got older, the words he said started to make sense and intertwined with the three Maman Lacorix words; they were the wisdoms of Elle Veronique and they rang true.

“You want to make it in this world? You have to take it like a man and rule it like a woman.”

Me and my sibs, we took it like men so our women could rule. We made sure things went smoothly for La Famille Lacroix. Even if it meant cracking some skulls. And washing clean Lacroix involvement by dropping bodies into the Ol' Missus. Years of training, physical, mental and spiritual badassery. Strong, steely and steady. That's what Uncle Eddie taught us. And all the while he taught us to love our mothers and all Lacroix women and men. We keep our own and we keep it that way.

As we grew in infamy, me n' my sibs were feared and many held wide berths for us as we walked the streets in the Anth. It was best you could see us, cuz if you knew what we were about and you didn't see us, you had good right to fear you could be next. And so the life of violence in the wars in the shadows continued and we dominated. Absolutely unstoppable.

That was until someone set us up.

Apparently a paying repeat customer was getting a bit rough with some of our 'working gals' in the Red District. We reacted too late and one of our gals ended up with a bad case of fatal broken neck. Me n' my sibs, Les Laveuses, as we were called, moved in and took him for a cart ride. He ended up with a bad case of washed out into the Ol' Missus river. But all Hells... we were given the wrong mark.

We had mistakenly washed out a relative of River Admiral Carlos Barnes. All Hell yes, that Carlos Barnes.

It all went to burning hell right then and there.

And so what can I say. Here I am. I'm in Independance laying low while mes cousins Roberto, Belle, Cherie et Clarisse and ma tante Maman Ams weather the fustercluck for us. I never really liked Robbi 'cuz he's more than just a giant asswipe, but when he's on his game, playing poker in the socio-political arena, he is an ace. I hope he and his mama pull one out for us. I really do.

Cuz Les Lavueses have been split up and sent our separate ways without each of us knowing each other's whereabouts. Oh mother, but do I ever miss my sibs. I love 'em so much and only hope they're doing okay. It's been only three months but it feels like an eternity. No message from Robbi either. Nothing from Maman Simone or her sisters neither. I have no idea what to do except keep it together.

I'm doing some labour here to pass the time and keep in shape. Farm work. Me. Une Lavuese. A Lacroix for that matter. It's back breaking work, but really, whatever... Compared to what me n' my sibs had to put up with while we were in the hands of notre oncle Edouard? Yeah, it's like a stroll along the river boardwalk. But the waiting... the unknown... no clue about my family?

I never knew such torture.

Psychological Profile:

'“Ya wanna make it in this world?”

Yes, of course I do. It's how I was raised. And actually, I don't want to make it... I will make it. I keep my friends close, my enemies even closer, and my family right up next to me. I don't have a lot of friends. I don't care for watered down trust. Friends are just one letter 'r' removed away from becoming a devil anyway. I don't have time for a girlfriend neither, 'kay? I'm only in it for the Lacroix. We keep our own. We are who we are because of three things: money, power and influence. I intend to keep it that way. It's who we are. Screw everyone else, cuz you'll just get screwed by them. Screw them before they screw you. As you can see I'm a good case in point. I'm here by myself, a ways a'way from ma famille, That's not how y'all make it in the world. Not even close. Man, I miss my sibs...

“Take it like a man.”

This is still a man's world no matter how much man has screwed the world up for us. Mankind. It's how the game is played. It's how history is written. The victors and the victims. You think women will ever rule? The game is played by men. It's all penned by men. That's why the Lacroix play the game and write it like men. That's how we even the playing field. We take all BS like a man. Lacroix women are grown tough. We are raised to make it in the world by living by the rules made by men. Every hit we take by a man, we make sure we hit back even harder just like any man would do. But we do it our way.

“Rule it like a woman.”

All Lacroix have the initials of the current matriarch tattooed on them when they are able to walk. We are taught how to love and respect women first before we learn how to love men. That is how we do it our way. Our last name is Lacroix but we hyphenate it with our birth maman's first name. That's why my surname is Simone-Lacroix so that, not just me, but everyone else knows whose daughter I belong to and represent. Men are fleeting and so we let them be. Seed our women, then get the hell out of our way. We choose the brightest and biggest to breed with. That's why we are so proud of our offspring. Even boys get an even shake... but never as the head of the family name. My role in the Lacroix family is to maintain our power. That's what Maman Simone was dealt. I represent her. I will make it in the world for her. I will take it like a man so we can rule like women. Like we always have. We keep our own and we keep it that way.

But now that things have fallen apart... I'm so lost. I don't look like it, but I'm so broken. Nearly every morning, I always greet our Mamans and my sibs and my cousins. It's killing me to be here without them. I'm nobody here in Independence. I mean, that's okay by me and ally'all are okay with that but... its' so different here.

Like I get it, 'kay? I'm the outsider; the 'out of work lone wanderer' to you, but... why the hell are you so nice and hospitable to me?! I would cut every single one of you down and wash you out in the river without so much as batting an eyelash! And you can see how hard I am in my green eyes. It's like you're up to something... I keep waiting for it. It's been over three months but no matter what, every time I decline going to your soirees, you keep asking me to go with you...! I'm not your family! You just don't ask someone from another famille to join you unless you have ulterior motives to have them over. What do you want from me?! I don't want to get to know you better!

Just let me be, 'kay?

Just let me be...

Relationships and Acquaintances:

All I care to know is those bosses at the farm, Missus and Mister Smith. I don't know their kids' names or the other farmhands' names, but I'm okay with that.