[CHAR] Teenage Wasteland

[Jangel13]

Name: Shiba Akabane

Age: just turned 18

Appearance: but his necklace is his dads dog tag

Faction: The forgotten

Personality: an adaptive person he will always try to negotiate first and try diplomacy before he lets the enemy into his trap, he always has a back up plan to his back up plan. Shiba wants to live and figure things out but honestly but he will always try to figure out a way to survive and speed up his hopes of being a father. Shiba while seemly cold to others actually has a warm heart and has a soft spot for kids. Shiba is loyal to his group and will remain loyal until asked to perform something....atrocious then he will not perform it and may even quit if the issue is pressed.

Backstory: January 13th Friday evening, today is Angelo birthday. Yeah happy birthday and all that right? well Angelo just turned 18 and you know what he did to celebrate? He found a nice bottle of scotch and cracked it open, oh don't judge. You know what else he did to celebrate? no he didn't have a birthday cake he didn't go to the fair or anything like that, he spent the rest of his day taking pot shots at a few gang members. Surprised? well you shouldn't be. This is the end of the world as we know it and right now all Angelo bothers to do is drink and kill you would think an 18 year old killing others would be a traumatizing experience but in reality he has already accepted it as the norm ever since all the adults were killed off in some weird way. Angelo grieved for his parents when it happened but what else could he do, he played enough video games to know that the end of the world meant he needed to find a way to survive. Thankfully his father was in the army so he had a good stash of weapons and military rations and he played enough video games and went to the shooting range with his dad enough to figure out which end of the gun to point.

Angelo spent his time making his home into a makeshift fort placing all his furniture out towards the windows and doors to keep himself locked in and he figure out how to stretch the rations for a good while before they dried up on him which meant he had to get moving and find some survivors or at least supplies so he could head back home. The odd thing was that when Angelo went into town he saw that other people his age were still alive nobody old enough to have a grey hair mind you but those of us who were still going through puberty or just finished. Angelo fully expected a zombie horde like in the movies but instead their was gang violence. Angelo made sure to keep away from them he wanted nothing to do with them. Angelo looked around but what else could he expect other then to find out the gangs looted everything so he decided to just lone wolf it.

Angelo wandered around with his gun taking shelter in whatever place looked defensible he tried to go to his fathers army base but it seemed to be taken over by a gang so their was no luck their. Whenever Angelo tried to trade with others he seemed like he was making some sort of ambush and was immediately shot on site, thankfully Angelo had enough sense to wear a bulletproof vest and his dads old army helmet. So Angelo carried guns with no food or water. Along the way he sold a few pieces to some loners like him for food and whatever else they could spare to keep himself alive but soon enough he was starting to starve, he still had the guns to trade but no food. eventually he found the pawn shop and he almost pleaded to trade and when they did they asked Angelo if his was part of gang and once Angelo explained how appalled he was by them they gave him a hand and said that he could join them. Angelo took their hand and never looked back which brings us to today, drinking some scotch and shooting some gang bangers that thought they could steal from their shop. happy birthday....

Skills: strategic mindset able to outmaneuver the enemy into his own trap or ambush, eagle eyes, stealth: able to find a way past enemy lines

Weapons of choice:
*Cheytac .408 cal sniper rifle able to blast a hole through a wall at 100 yards (just exaggeration im not sure if this is actually true I just know its a badass sniper rifle)
*Remington Model 870 pump action combat shotgun meant for close quarters combat

[Camerch]

Name: Kin
Real Name: Keith Wyatt
Age: 17


Appearance: Caucasian, 180cm, 80kg, toned body. Grey hairs coming out, looks 10 years older than he is. Has perpetual bags under his eyes.
He wears Kevlar under a heavy jacket, denim jeans and construction steel-toe boots

Faction: The Forgotten

Personality: Everybody knows Kin the guard. The one that that patrols the place far more than he needs to. The one that reflexively grips his weapon if he hears a gunshot in the distance. The one that looked down the length of a raider's gun barrel, pushed it to one side and dislocated the raider's shoulder as he pinned the poor bastard to the ground. Despite this, so long as you're on good terms with him, he is possibly one of the most dependable and protective people you'll meet. The Forgotten is his home, and he will fight to his last breath defending it and everyone in it. He's loosened up in the past years, but you'll still be hard-pressed to find him smiling, or even laughing at anything.

Equipment: Remington 870 Shotgun (max. 7 shells), Kevlar vest, binoculars, makeshift spear.

Skills: Shooting, endurance, strength.

Other: He is suspicious of anything that could possibly present a threat to his home, and is a little jumpy, as a result.

[AtomicNut]

Name:Charles D. Ronnington, M.D. (self appointed) AKA Charon
Age: 22
Appearance:

Working

Faction:Straggler, To Be Determined.
Personality: Charles appears at first an even tempered individual with a flawless work ethic, a rare throwback to how life was before the Virus. Charles doesn't compromise on human lives, and he tries to live and let live the best way he can in this world, offering guidance as perhaps one of the last -adults- this world has seen. However, cracks in his psyche are apparent. Charles has just lost too many things to the Virus to remain unaffected, and his inability to fight it burns him from the inside out. He's single-mindedly determined to find a cure or breakthrough to such an ailment.
Backstory: Charles was a humble medical student who was barely 19 when the outbreak started. As the plague overpowered the vast majority of adults and depleted the medical ranks aswell, Charles was soon fielded, despite his relative youth and lack of experience. Fully exploiting his resistance to the virus, he volunteered to deal with many afflicted patients, despite the obvious risk of infection. Seniors, children, all died in his hands without him unable to do anything about it. Yet he still lived. And he kept stubbornly refusing to ever give up.

By the time the plague had reshaped Kano, Charles was already a seasoned field medic, but one terribly broken and in grief. Taking the nickname of "Charon", the ferryman of the dead, as a self-parody of his ghastly patient record, he shouldered on, still determined to maintain the one little piece of medical expertise that the Virus was unable to exterminate, himself.

Other: Charon has been infected a grand total of 12 times during his tenure as field medic. As such, he's adquired a great degree of resistance to the illness even if he's past the assumed safe age of infection. He's familiar with many of the workings of the old world, specially in the way of medical expertise and equipment. Charon is also rather fit, and he has a decent left hook when the situation calls for it, but he's not a master martial artist. He has surgical precision when using blades, but it's more useful for proper healing than fighting. He usually wears a portable medkit in his backpack, as well as sample recollection material. He can drive decently, and he's managed to keep a motorbike up and running to this point.

[Airalin]

Name: Alice Graethem
Age: 10
Appearance:
Faction: Omnibus Scientia

Personality/Backstory: Long story short, Alice is a genius. At the age of six, she was zooming through advanced calculus problems at a pace that made her father's college students quiver with insecurity. However, because of her high intelligence, she was always something of a loner - children her age were so stupid it was obnoxious, and adults never understood her idea of fun. As a result, Alice grew distant from others, viewed them as inferior. They treated her like the outcast she was, and soon, Alice learned that cruelty was the only way to protect herself from the ridicule of others. After the plague wiped out her entire family, Alice decided to make a change - she would project a kind, bubbly image to the world, to endear herself to others, for she could not survive on her own. Her ruse worked all too well; before long, the marriage of her feigned innocence and ruthless intellect had given birth to companions, and, with the help of a few well placed lies designed to revive the dashed hopes of the unsuspecting, Alice turned her companions into followers, and Omnibus Scientia was formed. And, oh, the fools kept joining and joining...

Other: Alice's greatest tool is her intellect. She is useless in a fight, and relies on her followers to defend her. However, Alice does have a talent for hiding herself, when she must. She is very paranoid about what she eats and drinks out of a fear of assassins. Nonetheless, on rare occasions, she may let down her guard if offered chocolate chip cookies.

[Mivuli]

Standing at 170cm (5’57”), Kim is tall and slim, with arched brows that give her a dubious appearance, and brown eyes that look dark and bottomless. She has freckles and sun-spots, and has a pale complexion. Her black hair is short, cut routinely to leave an uneven edge, and often swept to the side and out of the way. She often wears a tank top, combat boots and oversized trousers with deep pockets, but she can’t find a Kevlar vest, and certainly nobody is giving up theirs.

Name:

Kim Marie

Age:

18

Faction:

The Forgotten

Personality:

Before the infection, Kim was a happy-go-lucky girl. The youngest and only daughter in a family of reasonably affluent means, there was little she had to worry for. She was clever enough, and got good grades, occasionally topping her class in the good years.

But she came to the Forgotten a shell of who she had been. At the start, she was just a scared, shaking fifteen-year-old, who quaked in her Converse sneakers. Now, she is nothing if not quiet. You would have to pry her lips open for conversation, and her replies are often grunts, or monosyllabic. She’s a person of few words, Kim is, and sullen. She would make a good soldier; sometimes, she stands like she’s carved of marble, still enough to convince flies to land on her. Even then, she does not move. She takes orders, if they’re yelled at her, or passed under a breath. Enlist her into a turf war and she’ll throw herself into the battle, frontline or no. People have whispered rumours about her, but just because she is close to mute, she’s not deaf. She knows some of them think she’s cold-blooded. She’s heard gossip that she kills squirrels for fun – ridiculous, there are hardly enough around for that anymore. It’s strange though, she could embark on a mission with almost suicidal determination. But the moment she is attacked, she lunges forward screaming, fighting ruthlessly, tooth and claw, her way back to life. Once, when she was out on a personal scavenge, a Scorp jumped her. They scuffled, but it was Kim who left with nothing but a bloody lip and crooked tooth, and the nameless Scorp lying in a pool of growing blood.

Backstory:

Kim was fifteen when the outbreak struck. With one fell blow, she lost mother, father, and twin brothers. For two weeks, she sealed the windows and locked the doors and grieved. She barely ate. In the bubble of her home while the world wreaked havoc outside the walls, time was not sanctioned to pass, as she haunted the halls like the ghosts her family had become.

One day Kim opened the door after someone had been banging on it for five minutes straight, to reveal an old friend on the other side. Josephina forced herself in and locked the door behind her back. She was bleeding from a cut above her temple, but she managed to propel herself into Kim’s arms and almost knock her over. Perhaps it was the way warm blood dripped onto Kim’s back and shoulder, or the sensation of heat and flesh under her hands, but it was enough to pull her back into the present, and do for Josephina what she had had no opportunity to do for her family. Kim cleaned the wound and wrapped Josephina up; Josephina made sure Kim had enough sustenance and brought her back from the brink of a wasted death. She told Kim about her short stint with the Gamers, that she had abandoned when fights for glory and bullshit started taking place. She had tales about a faction they could both go to, and live out the rest of the apocalypse back-to-back, arm-in-arm.

Kim had to admit the prospect of having someone else to live for was attractive.

When they were both well, Josephina led them out the door for the last time, the two of them laden down with all the supplies they could carry. She had heard that the Forgotten were stationed in a shopping district, and that was where they went. But on the way, they encountered Coyotes, who fell on them like a tsunami wave, pouring in from all sides. Armed with bricks, shovels, and pitchforks, they descended upon the two girls.

Kim fought back, scratching and kicking at hands that tried to fall on her. Eventually, she wrenched a hammer out of one Coyote’s hands, and began to beat her way out. She broke elbows and collarbones and the fingers of someone who had been holding a gun. He dropped it. But not before a shot rang out and Kim heard a quiet exhale of breath from behind her.

Death never loses its flavour. At least, it hadn’t in the first three weeks. Even though the population had been decimated, and the streets were still littered with errant corpses no one had bothered to clean up, the children from The Coyotes weren’t acquainted with murder. But as they scurried like kids about to be told on, and she crawled to Josephina - whose blood was flowing in a steady free stream from the gunshot wound over her heart - Kim felt she could kill someone right there and then. Or had she already?

She stayed there for a long time, Josephina’s head cradled in her lap. She watched those eyes empty until they were as blank as the sky they stared up at, and the life drained from her cheeks through a hole in her chest. Kim waited for a deathbed acquittal, for the Coyotes to return with whooping calls and an axe to cleave her neck clean through. But neither ever came. Josephina died quietly, the wind whistled hollowly around them, and the blame for her last friend’s death sat heavily on Kim’s shoulders.

Kim picked up the pistol – ill-gotten gains, that made her feel sick to the stomach – and the bag Josephina had been carrying. With each step feeling like lead, and each breath like a knife in the heart, Kim found her way to the Forgotten.

She never spoke Josephina’s name again.

Other:

• A mean grappler. She can defend herself, even on the ground.
• Owns a pistol, and scavenges for ammunition
• Will use anything within sight to fight. Bottles, knives, and sticks are all fair-game
• Light on her feet, and proficient in sneaking quietly in the cover of shadows
• Has been with the Forgotten for three years, is aware she could be considered disposable and has no qualms about how trivially her life could be used by authority as a means to an end (i.e. in a turf war)

[Kei]

Name:

'The Fox'

Real Name:

Unknown

Age:

20

Appearance:

5'4"(164CM), 122lbs(55KG). Pale blond hair, tanned skin with obvious tan-lines around clothing edges. Rather lithe with some impressive upper-arm strength. Scars cover his hands, in very thin lines and some thicker jagged cuts. They mostly cover over the second joints of all of his fingers, around his wrists, the palms of his hands, and on the outside of each hand. A lot of them connect and cross over each other, a few places are even purely scar-tissue. On the right side of his head, trailing from the corner of his right eye and traveling back into his hairline, a crude and jagged scar can be found.

Faction:

Ex-Coyote (By Personal Choice), Currently a Straggler

Personality:

Fickle with loyalty and adaptive, Fox is someone purely driven by self interests that change more often than the weather. He does not trust anyone as far as he can throw them and lets be honest here, he isn't built for throwing human bodies very far. While friendly and respectful to an extent, he really doesn't get close with people unless he becomes curious- which is rather rare. He is easily bored with 'common' things and it isn't uncommon for him to throw a stick in the middle of someone's plans to see more of a reaction or to cause trouble. If anything, he likes to test people, he likes to watch people squirm. And in the same hand, while he does enjoy causing trouble for others, he always has some way of keeping himself out of it most of the time. At least enough to the point that he cannot be directly blamed for it. Fox, as a few who have met him before or maybe heard rumor, has absolutely no empathy for other people or any other living thing. While it doesn't seem like he was always this way, it is how he is now and because of it he has been known to be downright monstrous when people try to double-cross him or put his observations/plans on hold. He isn't above killing someone- or entire small groups- that get in his way.

He really isn't all that bad though! Somewhere... deep down inside. Probably.

Backstory:

Fox, despite what he says at times, cannot remember anything before the Virus or the first year or so after it spread. The most that can be recalled it something along the lines of 'The Coyotes found me and gave me a name and a purpose' and 'Then I got bored and moved on to greener pastures'. Someone (or Someones) within the Coyote's took Amnesiac Fox under their care for a time and within that short time managed to create a monster they lost control of.

Other:
Clothing;

Fox wears typical scavenger garb. He has a very thick jacket that bundles up around his hips with a few places where it has been patched, a single massive front pocket that has been modified to hold various things. Each arm has a special 'wrap' of thick cloth that is cut out at the elbows to allow for perfectly free movement, it is held in place with straps and buckles on his upper arms and forearms. Covering his hands most often are a pair of heavy duty gloves, a mixture of cloth, leather, and small metal plates individually put in place to protect the pads of his hands and the sides of them. He seems to have several pairs of these gloves. Going down the rest of him, he has a very heavy-duty belt that is always tied securely around his waist. Attached to this belt is several small bags and pouches, filled with all sorts of things he uses and or has collected. His pants are well worn, the knees have been purposely cut and a few other places have been as well to allow for the best possible movement for the wearer. Though they are also patched in several places as well. As far as footwear goes, Fox only ever wears a pair of black combat boots that lace all the way up to the middle of his calf. They are old seeming and have been well used, nails have been inserted into certain parts of the bottom of the shoe. They seem pretty sharp and dangerous.

Weaponry;

As an Ex-Coyote scavenger, Fox is never without some kind of weapon. He has an array of pocket knives and daggers of the sorts. But his most well used 'weapon' is wire. Somewhere on his person he carries at least three different kinds of wire. Some of it is simple and basic metal wire, but mostly it is razor wire. Most of the scars on his hands are from having used said wire long before he got his metal-plated gloves.

• Is suffering from head trauma. If you ask him who he was before the Virus, he wouldn't be able to tell you.
• Despite his overly violent tendencies and kill record, Fox is utterly terrified of blood and will actively avoid it if possible.
• Perfectly able to survive on his own with the barest of things, he is a great scavenger.
• He left the Coyote's on good terms, but they are still actively seeking him to return.

[MissCapnCrunch]

---

---

Name:

Marion Dwight. But most call her Mari.

Age:

16

Faction:

The Forgotten

Personality:

Clever. Idealistic. Lazy. Proud. Humorous.

Backstory:

Marion is the type of girl to steal borrow your jacket and try to sell it to you a week later. She's clever and crafty, making her a prime saleswoman at the pawn shop. Though she is young, she has a good understanding of how people work and isn't afraid to tell you exactly what she knows and how well she knows it. Unfortunately, to get this far, you have to get up and off your ass, something Mari often struggles with every morning.

It is not rare to find Mari cracking jokes or playing pranks on people during down time. Which in turn has caused many fights to break out. She isn't the best fighter, but she can wrestle with the best of them. Before the outbreak of the virus, Mari was in between a juvenile detention center and an alternative school in North Minneapolis, trying to get on the right track. She made her way to Kano with the group of kids from the juvenile center, but when things became overly violent and tense, she left the group and eventually found her way to her current sanction. She's thankful for their hospitality, even though she doesn't always show it.

Other:

Skills:
- Sales
- Cooking
- Getting a smile out of Kin

Equipment:
- Has tons of winter gear that she has stolen
- Usually has a cigarette or blunt behind her ear

Weapons:
- Pocket knife

Quirks:
- Knows how to braid, dread, and cut hair

[Jurassic Weeb]

Name: Hans Drake
Age: 19
Appearance: Drake stands at 5'8", and is of a somewhat stocky build. His eyes are gray, and his short, thick locks are black in color with (permanent) red highlights. More often than not, he can be seen wearing black, and/or camouflage. He has two fashion statements: the first is a pair of black goggles with reflective gold lenses that he has strapped to his forehead. The second is a black balaclava with a fanged skull on the front in white paint.
Faction: The Forgotten
Personality: (Optional)
Notes: - Uses a military grade marksman rifle.
- Has a love of music, and keeps his iPod charged on a constant basis.
- Drake considers The Forgotten his family, and will go to any length to protect or avenge them.

[Penguin]

Name: Adelaide Woods
Age: 18
Faction: Straggler
Personality and Backstory will be revealed IC.
Skills: Adelaide is pretty handy with a blade and a good shot with a gun. She's not too shabby when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. She's quick on her feet and also able to think fast in a tough situation, though sometimes she may act on impulse. Lastly, she's great at climbing.
Weapons: Pistol that lacks a whole lot of ammunition, a machete, and 2 long daggers
Equipment: an iPod, first aid kit, and a lighter

[ravenDivinity]

Abel Levi Dunst

Name: Abel Levi Dunst
Age: 17
Faction: The Forgotten

Appearance:

Image

Personality: Optimistic, skeptical. A strong follower of Nietzsche's philosophy and of liberalism and also a hopeless romantic. Sentimental. Borderline depressive, outwardly positive, attentive, and attention loving. Easily empathizes and sympathizes with other people. Also enjoys social contact and affection.

Backstory:

A lone, maroon Kia Spectra zipped down the I-35 thoroughfare, vacant except for a few cars wrecked or damaged on the shoulder of the road. The driver's gloved hands were steady on the wheel, and his feet were like lead on the gas pedal. He tore his eyes from the road to snag a glance at his cargo. A leather-bound journal sat in the passenger seat on top of some other books, the works of Nietzsche, the entire Hunger Games trilogy, Utilitarianism by John Stuart Mill, and Hero by Perry Moore among the pile, and a small, black suitcase occupied the backseat next to a blue, plastic tub. The driver eyed the suitcase in his rear-view mirror for a long while before he noticed something green out of the corner of his blue-gray eyes and, in one jerky motion, swerved the car back on the right path. He barely had a chance to glimpse the sign he nearly slammed into and calculated something on the top of his head.

"Minneapolis. One more hour," the driver sighed, fixing his hands on the wheel and his steely glare on the road.

Abel Dunst's trek to the North began in a quiet Texas suburb. The year was 2016, and the United States was set to vote for a new president in November. Abel would have been a freshman in high school by then. But fate had other plans. When he lost his parents, Abel became lost and depressed. He had no reason to continue living after the disease took them. They gave him a purpose. He lived to make them and his friends happy, carry the family name, succeed in his life, and reach the goals of their collective efforts. Without them, without the society that had demanded that he do so, Abel gave up all structure and desire, yet still he could never commit suicide. He didn't have the strength or nerve to end his own life. Abel remained for whatever reason no matter how much it hurt, even when everything fell apart.

That was two years ago. Abel had spent the rest of 2016 and most of 2017 in his home state. He joined a local gang with his friends and neighbors, but their policy of mercy and compassion fell to violence and madness as things grew worse and times became desperate. Conservative extremists, terrorist thugs, and sadistic rich kids took control of territories in the suburbs in bloody turf wars. The fear, bloodshed, and delusion they inspired caused so much madness and made Abel's situation so much worse. He protected his friends and fellow gang members as best he could, and his group did what it could to help those most in need. Those goals filled the gaps Abel's parents left and gave Abel's life a renewed purpose.

What tenuous stability they had for that short year obviously did not last forever. Abel helplessly watched as more kids died in what their enemies called "holy" crusades and "righteous" battles, and he struggled to keep his friends safe. When they were at the end of their rope, Abel made a decision with the hopes of helping his friends escape. One enemy faction chased him, thinking he had his friends and other crucial members of the group in tow. Secretly, Abel sent his friends off in a separate vehicle headed in a different direction while he took his personal possessions with him in his mom's dented 2008 Kia and drove north. They gave up, but Abel continued until he had less than half a gallon.

The car's tank took him to Oklahoma where he learned from another local group to siphon gas and refilled the car. They begged for him to stay, and Abel did. He lived with them for half a year, and together they expanded their turf and piled more resources. That was around the time when Abel began taking new books into his collection. When they started asking Abel more pressing questions, though, Abel became stressed. They developed a certain lunacy as they tried to pry into his personal business. They watched his interactions. Their leader in particular preached homophobia and called for the group members to watch suspicious persons closer. That included Abel. He made his plans to leave in the dead of night, and when everyone was sleeping under his watch, Abel snuck off and floored the gas pedal into the horizon.

Abel spent the next year a drifter. He floated from town to town in his Kia. He stole gas, he stored nonperishable food in his trunk, he collected more books. He did what he could to make ends meet, and he continued to write in his journals. He made sloppy calendars in them, and he wrote many stories and diary entries to pass the time when he was sleeping in his car somewhere on high alert. Most of all, Abel made sure nobody stole from him. He kept a knife at his side as he slept, and he threatened to kill or maim whoever dared to take what was his. Whether at the request of others or by his own choice, Abel joined strong groups who would protect his property and him and underdog groups who would request his aid. For what he did and who he was, Abel earned himself several nicknames and titles, like "Scribe," "Texas Guy," "Wanderer," "The Lone Ranger."

A while after he left Minneapolis, Abel came across the rural town of Kano. He cautiously entered the pawn shop claimed by the Forgotten, and they moved to tentatively accept him as one of their own. He read to them the books he collected, even getting some of the ones they were less fond of, but he neglected to share his story. Nonetheless, they were more tolerant of his sexuality and came to trust Abel more, and Abel enjoyed the hospitality and acceptance they offered him as an outsider both to Kano and society. He chose to stay with them as long as possible, even if by some irony he'd been less open about things with them. For worse or for better, Abel Levi Dunst, who wanted to preserve old knowledge into the future and establish order in the land, became one of the Forgotten.

Other:

• Broad range of knowledge, high intellect.
• Eccentric and impulsive.
• Usually carries a knife or a homemade bow.
• Book collector.
• Some less obvious knowledge about survival.
• Good speaker and writer.

[Temporary]

Erren "Nine" Drake

---

---

Age:

17

Faction:

Mostly the Forgotten, but he has been known to go alone on occasion.

Personality:

Erren is rather brash, often saying things that are offensive on a whim without thinking. He has been known to be rather uncaring with his actions and often doesn't care about neither the repercussions or the people involved. He has also been known to be very violent, to the point of almost killing people, but tends to hide it from his friends. Despite this, he is actually extremely intelligent in both chemistry and computer science, whilst also being a rather impressive fiction writer. And, to put it simply, he has a mild case of chuunibyou.

Backstory:

To be revealed, except maybe one part. Try and guess ^_^

Other:

He keeps a set of very sharp knives, two katanas and a shotgun in his secret area. He also has a set of 52 cards that he made himself, all with summoning circles printed on them.

He has also adopted the moniker of Nine from somewhere, but he has also called himself the "Ninth Ruler of the Continuum Throne". Whatever that means...

[SgtEasy]

"Besides, if you're going to die horribly, you might as well do it with style.”

Name:
Alphonsé Akiyama

Alias:
Rōnin

Age:
22

Appearance:
Alphonsé appears to be one of the more crazier individuals you will ever meet. He is covered, from chest downwards, in tattoos signifying gang relations, drug use, crimes done in the past and scary visages of death. His face is kept clean and sharp, shaven with not a single tattoo. His hollow green eyes are dark and seem to sink into his face. Unruly black hair is safely tucked in to the hat he wears almost constantly. Scratches and scars adorn his body, wounds old and fresh. However, the scariest thing about the Akiyama is not his tattoos or scars. It is his smile. His smile is manic and crazy, a smile fit only for a predator. It almost looks comical on someone as lean as him but it always promises bloody murder.

Faction:
Straggler

Personality:
Rōnin is a more silent character, seemingly contemplating past conquests and failures. He almost never talks outside the battlefield, his face looking resigned and almost pained. If he does need to talk, he communicates in hand signals and grunts. As one of the oldest people in the wasteland, he has seen things that would've mentally scarred many. Very few know of his mental disorders. The quietness and withdrawal is from the drugs to suppress his bipolar and schizophrenic tendencies. He scours the wasteland for them, scared of what would happen if the drugs ran out. Though no one knows it, the Akiyama is actually a very religiously connected person and will often recite quotes from the bible out of nowhere. This god-fearing persona may be due to his fear of going crazy.

In battlefield however, his other side takes over. Alphonsé becomes an absolute monster, shooting and cleaving with manic precision. He is crazed and in a berserker like state. He screams, howls and shouts curses at the enemy and sometimes at friends. His desires take over and he will not rest until the last enemy falls to the ground, pelted with bullets or beheaded by sword.

Backstory:
To be revealed

Other:
Customised AR-15
-Collapsable Stock
-Extended Magazine (~45 rounds)
-Sound Suppressor
-5 Magazines

Colt Python
-40 bullets

Gūnto Sword

Swiss Army Knife

[LovelyAnastasia]

Name: Cy (yeah, cuz of the one eye, thanks for pointing it out)

Age: 19

Appearance:


Faction: newly made ex-Gamer

Personality: Temperamental, Snarky, Secretive, Soft Hearted, Vengeance Driven

Backstory: As RP goes on

Skills: She may not look like much but her short build gives her advantages. Advantage Uno: Protect yer goods, cuz she will take dirty shots with those brass knuckles and steel toed boots. Advantage B: She's quick and low to the ground so gettin' yer hands on her is hard. Advantage III: She doesn't have to be a good shot tah get you with her shot gun. As for more practical stuff, her one good eye is pretty darn observant, maybe making up for only havin' one or whatever. Nothing escapes her sight. She has, uh, connections too, but don't ask who they are if you want yer info, yah hear? She also seems to still have her hands in some hush-hush trading, but yah better keep yer mouth shut.

Equipment/Weapons: Shot Gun, Couple of knives, steel toed boots, brass knuckles

Character Quirks: Don't mention the eye unless you want to lose one of yer own. No parent talkin' either. Nail biter. Has a fondness for her food to be on the rawer side of things.

[Doc Doctor]

Name: Earnst Tipperton, A.K.A "Sunchild".
Age: 22
Appearance:
Faction: Earthkin

Personality: Charismatic and silly, Earnst is the sort of dude that gets along with everyone. That is until he drugs them into a stupor, tortures them for several days, and then cuts up what's left into bits before selling the parts for cocaine. He loves is job, and little else needs to be said.

Backstory: Earnst grew up as the son of an abusive alcoholic, who was stuck in the disco years. Every day his disco-dad beat him with a wet sock full of apricot pits. The only solace Earnst had were drugs, along with the hobby of killing neighborhood pets. He worked as a customer service associate at Walgreens for three years, during which he learned how to be social as fuck. Inside, however, he lusted for evil. The word "evil" gets thrown around a lot these days. This is evil, that is evil, your granny is evil. No, this guy is the real deal. Earnst's father didn't make a spot of difference. Even if he had been raised properly he'd have turned out the same, albeit without the drugs.
Now that he is free of all moral restraints, Earnst has earned a reputation as the premier drug dealer of the city. He is known most commonly as "Sunchild", and only of his most loyal customers are aware of his ruthless passion.

Other: He carries around a silenced Walther PPK and a Honshu Karambit knife. He knows how to use them, but his true weapon of choice is deceit. He is quite good at making friends, and even better at drugging them. Nobody can slip a mickey like Sunchild.