Menoitios

Death In The Air

Gah. Apologies for not posting anything for the past few days, folks. I had a health crisis in the family, which thankfully has been resolved now. I'll hopefully be able to get a post up by tomorrow and shimmy myself back into the plot somehow. Just didn't expect the RP to move forward so fast. :p

Death In The Air

For a moment, Tom stood still, still completely dumbfounded. Was this guy serious? Being rude? Etiquette training?

Tom quickly snapped out of it when he realized the man--who introduced himself as Malik Cole--was in no way joking. Despite himself, he couldn't help but smile. "Pleasure's all mine, Malik. It's been a while since I last met someone who doesn't want to shoot me dead at first sight. I don't know about you, but so long as you have no plans of shooting me with that bow of yours anytime soon, I say etiquettes be damned." he stated, giving Malik a friendly smile from beneath his gas mask. "The name's Thomas, Thomas Vaugrenard. You can call me Tom for short."

Looking the man up and down, Tom figured he wasn't much of a threat. With that still in mind, he gazed past Malik and at the dead buck that he's been dragging along. "Mighty fine kill, there. Looks very professional. Must've had much practice the past three years, huh?" Tom exclaimed, motioning at the dead buck, still trying to figure out whether or not he should hand the young man some help. Despite Malik's clear proficiency in using his bow, Tom doubted he'd fare well against a shotgun at close quarters, no matter how skilled. Besides, he seems like the trustworthy sort, definitely doesn't look or talk like someone who'd cut your throat open in your sleep.

"Hope you don't mind me saying so, but I gotta say that there's zero chance you'll make it through the night if you're planning on dragging that thing any longer. Sun's going down fast and I'd reckon you only got a few minutes left of daylight before shit hits the fan, so I'd suggest you find shelter as soon as possible." he stated matter-of-factly.

"Tell you what, how about you follow me inside? It's much better than spending more time to look around for another empty building that's safe enough to hole in." offered Tom. "Time's precious, after all."

"Besides, I can get a fire going and maybe help you out with butchering that thing. You can stay till mornin' and then we'll go our separate ways. I promise I won't do anything funny, so long as you do the same." he added, opening the door behind him wider with his left hand. "So whaddaya say?"

@Drakeonis

Death In The Air

Likewise :)

Death In The Air

@Menoitios

That character is bae.
Also- love your Caravan avatar :D

@MissCapnCrunch

Thank you! I quite enjoyed writing him. Lol
Also fyi, my desktop background is a still from Lone Digger. Dunno why, but I absolutely love that song and the music video. :p

Death In The Air

Fuming.

If there was one word to describe Tom's current mood, it would be fuming. He definitely wasn't expecting to be attacked by a group of bandits this far out in the north, but he certainly wasn't going to complain about the fact. The folks in Norfolk had already warned him about these road gangs, but goddamn, he didn't expect to stumble upon them that fast. Breathing in and out slowly through his gas mask to calm himself, Tom skidded the pickup truck to a halt by the side of the road, his mind working on overdrive. He quickly went through the list of things that he knew that he had in his bag and on his body, only to find out that he didn't have nearly enough to take on the bandits all by himself. Cursing out loud, he grabbed his shotgun from the passenger seat and opened the door.

He'd been extremely lucky. An untouched military checkpoint out in the middle of nowhere, fully stocked with guns, ammo and enough MREs to last him for months. After loading up as much supplies into his truck, Tom headed out north towards the city of Salisbury. Unfortunately for him, by traveling through the US 13, he caught the attention of a gang of heavily armed bikers who were quite interested in the heavy bags lying on the back of his truck...

One of the bikers had been too confident. Speeding fast towards the truck, the man definitely did not expect Tom to pop up from behind the truck and fill his chest with lead. The biker died before he even hit the ground, his motorcycle crashing into the cluster of trees by the side of the road. Pumping the shotgun to chamber a new round, Tom took aim at another one of the biker headed his way and pulled the trigger.

They tried to stop him by forming a roadblock of sorts with their bikes with their guns at the ready. Knowing full well that they wouldn't be giving him milk and cookies if he stopped, Tom floored the gas and plowed through their roadblock before they had a chance to open fire. Tom couldn't help but smile as he heard a loud CRACK as one of the bikers went under the pickup truck.

A bullet landed close by, sending wood splinters all around him. Having loaded his shotgun with slugs, Tom pumped the weapon and leaned out of the cover of the tree. Taking aim, he caught one of the bikers by surprise and pulled the trigger. The man's chest practically exploded into a red mist as he fell dead, the rest of his comrades taking cover behind the trees around them. "Come on, you motherfuckers! I've got plenty more where that came from!"

The bullets pinged off the back of his truck, with the occasional few hitting the back window and passing over his head. They had managed to take out one of his tires, but that isn't going to be enough to stop him. Tom thought about slowing down and ramming the bikers off the side of the road, but he knew that they'd just shoot the living shit out of him if he did. Instead, he stepped on the gas in an effort to put some distance between him and the bikers. After he was sure that he'd given himself a few seconds worth of breather, Tom slammed on the breaks and stopped his truck by the side of the road. Without wasting another second, he grabbed his shotgun from the passenger seat and stepped out, taking cover behind his truck as he waited for the first biker to reach him...

Having abandoned the truck and its contents, Tom had made a run for the woods off the side of the road, hoping the gang wouldn't follow him. Unfortunately, they did. After a short shootout and nearly two hours of running, they eventually called off the chase. Hunting down a helpless prey was one thing, but this one fought back. They didn't care so much about vengeance anymore, not after having three of their friends killed and another two wounded. The majority of them went back to the highway, eager to loot the truck and go about their business; but two of them stayed behind. Exhausted, they stopped by a small stream to rest for a few minutes, breathing hard and looking behind their back for a threat they would never see coming.

After satisfying themselves that there were no danger, one of them knelt by the stream to fill his water bottle. The other one kept watch behind them anyways. He neglected to keep a watch on his comrade. After a couple minutes of resting, the one on guard turned and called out to his friend that it was time to carry on.

The words caught in his throat.

His friend was lying half in the running water, his upper body being bent downstream and legs anchoring it to the shore. A hasty inspection revealed that his neck had been sliced open, his blood pouring out to travel downstream. Panic gripped the man's heart and he turned towards the direction where his other friends had gone off to, intending to warn them.

He opened his mouth to scream, but only blood would come out...

---

That had been days ago. Now, sitting down inside crumbling bar at the heart of Salisbury, Tom idly thought about the events of the past few days. They had gotten quite close in killing him. Had the gang not called off the chase, they'd find out that he had practically ran into a dead end. The woods ended and made way for a large open field with no cover whatsoever. Had they chased him for a bit longer, they'd more than likely gun him down then and there. Fortunately for Tom, they didn't. Having killed five of them and wounding about two, Tom sincerely doubted they'd be out looking for vengeance.

Remembering the reason behind the whole conflict, Tom wondered if he'd ever get his truck and (most importantly) the supplies he scavenged from the checkpoint back anytime soon. "Unlikely..." he thought out loud, swirling around the bottle of whiskey in his hand. "If they're not complete dumbfucks, the gang would be long gone by now."

"Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk."

Putting the bottle down, Tom stood up and looked around the room. For such a small joint, the bar was not all too bad. Sure, all of the furniture that was not nailed down had been looted long ago by other people, but aside from that the place was pretty cozy. Not to mention, the whole establishment only had one entrance and absolutely no windows, making it easy for Tom to barricade himself in for the night.

There was still an hour or so of daylight left, so he figured it'd be better if he stepped out of the bar for ten minutes or more and check the surrounding buildings for anything useful. So far, Tom hadn't encountered a single soul in Salisbury and he thought it unlikely that he'd meet anyone anytime soon. With that in mind, he slung his shotgun behind his back and opened the door outside... only to come face to face with a man dragging a dead buck behind him.

"Oh," Tom exclaimed, dumbfounded. "Hello there."

@Drakeonis

Death In The Air

---

"War is my shepherd"

---

Name:
Thomas Vaugrenard

Age:
35

Gender:
Male

Appearance:

Mugshot

Tom stands at a staggering height of 6'3 and weighs in at around 216 lbs of pure muscle. Despite being of Caucasian descent, his skin has a tanned complexion from the years he spent in the Middle East and Africa as a soldier and mercenary. He has close-cropped black hair and always keeps himself clean shaven. He is rarely seen without his jet-black military webbing and signature M40 Gas Mask worn over a battered police riot gear. His right leg is rather stiff from the knee-down, a result of an injury he suffered in 2016.

Personality:
Tom is a very effective soldier and team player who is always first to volunteer for the most dangerous assignments. He is incredibly strong and is capable of lugging around heavy equipment tirelessly. Mentally he has never cracked under fire nor has he chaffed under command. So long as there’s a battle to be fought, he is a loyal soldier. At the same time he has a rather glaring problem: he has an obsessive lust for war as only someone who didn’t grow up in a country wracked by it could possibly have. While not discussing war or fighting one, a dead glaze lines his eyes. He becomes remote and detached, although he will still go about his duties with macabre intensity. He is quickly bored by anything other than the thrill of combat and as such is not a very strong communicator. His darkly romantic fixation with war also makes him fairly unsympathetic to those who suffer as a result of it. This is not a result of callous judgment, but rather an inability to comprehend why others don’t enjoy war as he does. This defect is likely neurological and accounts for many of his other sociopathic tendencies.

Short Bio:
Tom is a native of Dallas, Texas and the first son of a lower-middle class family. Tom was an average kid for the most part until his hormones started kicking in and he got into not-so-average fights regularly in school. In fact he quickly gained a reputation at each of the three schools he attended (two of which he was expelled from) for never being able to pass up a good fight. Unlike most trouble kids his age Tom didn’t get into fights because it was “macho” or to impress the girls. Tom fought because he loved to fight and always walked away from a finished fight happy that he engaged in combat, even the ones he lost. In high school he started piling on muscle mass not because he was losing fights, rather because he wanted to be seen as a more credible threat in order to challenge stronger opponents.

Naturally all this blood sport put Tom on the bad side of life and law. His grades had tanked; he received discipline regularly for vandalism, public disturbance and even one account of attempted arson. Of course as his parents became disillusioned with the menace Tom had become; they got rid of him at the first opportunity, the day of his eighteenth birthday.

Needless to say, civil society had no real place for a hellion like Tom and that suited him quite well as he never planned on being civil. Tom found that no matter how fierce or strong his opponents in the brawls were, the fights were really no different than before. Those fights lost their flare, paling in comparison to another brilliantly burning beacon of hostility.

Despite his pugnacious past and juvenile record, the US Army accepted his enlistment and he was sent off to Fort Sill for boot camp and was assigned an MOS in infantry. His AIT was, unsurprisingly, close-quarters combat given how much his previous fights had served to hone his awareness. At Fort Benning he completed his training and joined the ranks of the 2nd Battalion of the 69th Armored Regiment as part of a Stryker unit. He served two tours in Iraq from 2005-2006 and 2007-2008.

During Tom’s first tour he made his mark as an effective soldier in the battle of Ramadi. During his unit’s home furlough Tom opted to spend the majority of his time on base engrossing himself in the study of war, weapons and conflict around the world. His fellow servicemen and women saw him exercising constantly and invariably with a book in one of his enormous hands.

It was during his second tour with the 69th in Iraq that his fellow soldiers started giving Tom a wider berth. Having eased into the unsettling nature of war during their first deployment, many of the members of Tom’s unit found some of his new-found habits unnerving. Tom would stare for hours on end in awe of the wreckage and ruin of the urban warzones yet dismiss, with nothing more than a glance and a shrug, rotting dog corpses, the begging of children with stumps where limbs should be, and the shrieks of women at night. More disturbing still was how much Tom talked about war, mayhem and destruction during a time and in a place where those around him were all surrounded by such calamity and all anyone else wanted to talk about was home…and griping. No matter what, all that seemed to excite Tom was either going to war or talking about it, even when it wasn’t “their” war he wanted to speak of.

Tom was rotated into the reserves after his unit returned from Iraq. Not content to sit around in the US while there were “perfectly good wars going on”, Tom worked his way around the military network for work in the private sector. He landed his first contract in 2009 with Obelisk International LLC out of Seattle for four years state side while he completed battle assembly. Tom then saw low-intensity conflict in central and South America for over a year starting in late 2012. He was transferred back to the US in 2014 for executive protection service (rumors abound of a friendly fire incident in Columbia) and of course finding such a job far too civilized for his taste cut his ties with Obelisk to work as a freelancer. He fought against ISIS in Syria in Iraq independently for a time until he was forced to go back stateside after suffering a major injury to his right leg.

Effectively out of the action, Tom began to integrate himself into normal society. For several years, things went well for him. He found a steady job as a construction worker, started seeing a psychiatrist to help deal with his sociopathic tendencies and even had himself a nice relationship with a woman he met at the local bar. Unfortunately for Tom, all good things must come to an end. For Tom, it all came crashing down on the 6th of October, 2020.

Coming home from work late in the evening, he found out that his then girlfriend had left him for another man. The event triggered Tom's inner madman and, without thinking, he grabbed his pistol and headed for his girlfriend's house with the intention of doing something he no doubt would regret later on. Thankfully, his doubt and fear overcame his anger and he stopped halfway. His rational side yelled at him to go back home and settle the problem peacefully, but instead he headed to a local liquor store to fill himself up with booze so that he could do the deed. Fortunately for everyone, however, Tom got himself too drunk and he was arrested by the local police force before he could do anything.

Drunk off his ass and barely conscious, Tom was put in a holding cell and passed out... only to find the world had ended overnight. For some reason, he was the only one left alive inside the police station that day. Not wanting to find out what the hell killed everyone, Tom quickly looted the station's armory and headed home. He would lock himself in his house for the next year or so, only ever going out to find food and water. After a year, he got a little stir crazy and eventually decided he should head out and live a somewhat nomadic life.

For a relatively long time, Tom thought about what he should become now that the whole world's gone to shit. With his military training and combat experience, he figured he was above everyone else and held an edge against other survivors. So, the question was: Should he use his training and experience as a mean to take and do anything he wanted, or should he use it to help others survive in the world with whatever way he can?

After thinking it through, he eventually settled for the latter option.

Ever since then, Tom has styled himself as some sort of noble road warrior, wandering from town to town to help out small communities of survivors while at the same time ridding post-apocalyptic America from people he deem to be evil or undesirable. His travels have now landed him in the state of Maryland...

Weapon:

• Mossberg 590A1 Tactical Shotgun
  Tom's shotgun is equipped with a single point bungee sling attached to the rear of the body. His go-to weapon for most engagements, the shotgun has a collapsible stock and a tactical light attached to it. Currently, Tom has about twenty slugs and five buckshots for his shotgun.
• Beretta 92FS
  The semi-automatic Beretta pistol is Tom's favored secondary weapon. Whenever his shotgun isn't enough to get the job done, he'll use his Beretta. Currently, he's got a full clip for the pistol and about one more to spare. Nowadays, he rarely uses it anymore due to a lack of ammo, but he does take the pistol out from time to time to either intimidate other people or to discourage any potential hostiles from attacking him.
• Baseball Bat
  Whenever there's a need to get up close and personal, the Baseball Bat is Tom's weapon of choice. The sturdy bat is a deadly weapon in the hands of someone as strong as Tom.
• Machete
  Despite rarely using it as a weapon, Tom still carries around a hybrid Machete/Saw for survival and tactical purposes.
• Tactical Knife
  For emergency purposes, Tom keeps a sharp knife tucked near his ankle.

Skills:

• Military Training
  With roughly 15 years worth of military service, Tom is a deadly combatant and an excellent survivalist.
• Brawler
  Ever since he was a child, Tom has always been a fan of fighting hand-to-hand. Couple that with his strength and military training, then you have yourself a rather intimidating fighter.
• All Juiced Up
  Simply put, Tom is a beast. Weighing in at around 216 lbs of pure muscle, he is generally much stronger than most people. Not only that, he also has a seemingly endless stamina, being able to lug around heavy equipment over long distances before getting tired.

Supplies and Equipment:

• Two First-Aid Kits
• Multi-tool
• Crowbar
• Binoculars
• Three Paracord bracelets
• Several days worth of clean water
• Several days worth of rations
• Sleeping Bag
• Riot Gear
• Military Webbing
• M40 Gas Mask
• Zippo Lighter
• Chest Flashlight
• 4 Flares

Death In The Air

Here be my character. Hope I'm not too late to join this.

The Mercenary

---

"War is my shepherd"

---

Name:
Thomas Vaugrenard

Age:
35

Gender:
Male

Appearance:

Mugshot

Tom stands at a staggering height of 6'3 and weighs in at around 216 lbs of pure muscle. Despite being of Caucasian descent, his skin has a tanned complexion from the years he spent in the Middle East and Africa as a soldier and mercenary. He has close-cropped black hair and always keeps himself clean shaven. He is rarely seen without his jet-black military webbing and signature M40 Gas Mask worn over a battered police riot gear. His right leg is rather stiff from the knee-down, a result of an injury he suffered in 2016.

Personality:
Tom is a very effective soldier and team player who is always first to volunteer for the most dangerous assignments. He is incredibly strong and is capable of lugging around heavy equipment tirelessly. Mentally he has never cracked under fire nor has he chaffed under command. So long as there’s a battle to be fought, he is a loyal soldier. At the same time he has a rather glaring problem: he has an obsessive lust for war as only someone who didn’t grow up in a country wracked by it could possibly have. While not discussing war or fighting one, a dead glaze lines his eyes. He becomes remote and detached, although he will still go about his duties with macabre intensity. He is quickly bored by anything other than the thrill of combat and as such is not a very strong communicator. His darkly romantic fixation with war also makes him fairly unsympathetic to those who suffer as a result of it. This is not a result of callous judgment, but rather an inability to comprehend why others don’t enjoy war as he does. This defect is likely neurological and accounts for many of his other sociopathic tendencies.

Short Bio:
Tom is a native of Dallas, Texas and the first son of a lower-middle class family. Tom was an average kid for the most part until his hormones started kicking in and he got into not-so-average fights regularly in school. In fact he quickly gained a reputation at each of the three schools he attended (two of which he was expelled from) for never being able to pass up a good fight. Unlike most trouble kids his age Tom didn’t get into fights because it was “macho” or to impress the girls. Tom fought because he loved to fight and always walked away from a finished fight happy that he engaged in combat, even the ones he lost. In high school he started piling on muscle mass not because he was losing fights, rather because he wanted to be seen as a more credible threat in order to challenge stronger opponents.

Naturally all this blood sport put Tom on the bad side of life and law. His grades had tanked; he received discipline regularly for vandalism, public disturbance and even one account of attempted arson. Of course as his parents became disillusioned with the menace Tom had become; they got rid of him at the first opportunity, the day of his eighteenth birthday.

Needless to say, civil society had no real place for a hellion like Tom and that suited him quite well as he never planned on being civil. Tom found that no matter how fierce or strong his opponents in the brawls were, the fights were really no different than before. Those fights lost their flare, paling in comparison to another brilliantly burning beacon of hostility.

Despite his pugnacious past and juvenile record, the US Army accepted his enlistment and he was sent off to Fort Sill for boot camp and was assigned an MOS in infantry. His AIT was, unsurprisingly, close-quarters combat given how much his previous fights had served to hone his awareness. At Fort Benning he completed his training and joined the ranks of the 2nd Battalion of the 69th Armored Regiment as part of a Stryker unit. He served two tours in Iraq from 2005-2006 and 2007-2008.

During Tom’s first tour he made his mark as an effective soldier in the battle of Ramadi. During his unit’s home furlough Tom opted to spend the majority of his time on base engrossing himself in the study of war, weapons and conflict around the world. His fellow servicemen and women saw him exercising constantly and invariably with a book in one of his enormous hands.

It was during his second tour with the 69th in Iraq that his fellow soldiers started giving Tom a wider berth. Having eased into the unsettling nature of war during their first deployment, many of the members of Tom’s unit found some of his new-found habits unnerving. Tom would stare for hours on end in awe of the wreckage and ruin of the urban warzones yet dismiss, with nothing more than a glance and a shrug, rotting dog corpses, the begging of children with stumps where limbs should be, and the shrieks of women at night. More disturbing still was how much Tom talked about war, mayhem and destruction during a time and in a place where those around him were all surrounded by such calamity and all anyone else wanted to talk about was home…and griping. No matter what, all that seemed to excite Tom was either going to war or talking about it, even when it wasn’t “their” war he wanted to speak of.

Tom was rotated into the reserves after his unit returned from Iraq. Not content to sit around in the US while there were “perfectly good wars going on”, Tom worked his way around the military network for work in the private sector. He landed his first contract in 2009 with Obelisk International LLC out of Seattle for four years state side while he completed battle assembly. Tom then saw low-intensity conflict in central and South America for over a year starting in late 2012. He was transferred back to the US in 2014 for executive protection service (rumors abound of a friendly fire incident in Columbia) and of course finding such a job far too civilized for his taste cut his ties with Obelisk to work as a freelancer. He fought against ISIS in Syria in Iraq independently for a time until he was forced to go back stateside after suffering a major injury to his right leg.

Effectively out of the action, Tom began to integrate himself into normal society. For several years, things went well for him. He found a steady job as a construction worker, started seeing a psychiatrist to help deal with his sociopathic tendencies and even had himself a nice relationship with a woman he met at the local bar. Unfortunately for Tom, all good things must come to an end. For Tom, it all came crashing down on the 6th of October, 2020.

Coming home from work late in the evening, he found out that his then girlfriend had left him for another man. The event triggered Tom's inner madman and, without thinking, he grabbed his pistol and headed for his girlfriend's house with the intention of doing something he no doubt would regret later on. Thankfully, his doubt and fear overcame his anger and he stopped halfway. His rational side yelled at him to go back home and settle the problem peacefully, but instead he headed to a local liquor store to fill himself up with booze so that he could do the deed. Fortunately for everyone, however, Tom got himself too drunk and he was arrested by the local police force before he could do anything.

Drunk off his ass and barely conscious, Tom was put in a holding cell and passed out... only to find the world had ended overnight. For some reason, he was the only one left alive inside the police station that day. Not wanting to find out what the hell killed everyone, Tom quickly looted the station's armory and headed home. He would lock himself in his house for the next year or so, only ever going out to find food and water. After a year, he got a little stir crazy and eventually decided he should head out and live a somewhat nomadic life.

For a relatively long time, Tom thought about what he should become now that the whole world's gone to shit. With his military training and combat experience, he figured he was above everyone else and held an edge against other survivors. So, the question was: Should he use his training and experience as a mean to take and do anything he wanted, or should he use it to help others survive in the world with whatever way he can?

After thinking it through, he eventually settled for the latter option.

Ever since then, Tom has styled himself as some sort of noble road warrior, wandering from town to town to help out small communities of survivors while at the same time ridding post-apocalyptic America from people he deem to be evil or undesirable. His travels have now landed him in the state of Maryland...

Weapon:

• Mossberg 590A1 Tactical Shotgun
  Tom's shotgun is equipped with a single point bungee sling attached to the rear of the body. His go-to weapon for most engagements, the shotgun has a collapsible stock and a tactical light attached to it. Currently, Tom has about twenty slugs and five buckshots for his shotgun.
• Beretta 92FS
  The semi-automatic Beretta pistol is Tom's favored secondary weapon. Whenever his shotgun isn't enough to get the job done, he'll use his Beretta. Currently, he's got a full clip for the pistol and about one more to spare. Nowadays, he rarely uses it anymore due to a lack of ammo, but he does take the pistol out from time to time to either intimidate other people or to discourage any potential hostiles from attacking him.
• Baseball Bat
  Whenever there's a need to get up close and personal, the Baseball Bat is Tom's weapon of choice. The sturdy bat is a deadly weapon in the hands of someone as strong as Tom.
• Machete
  Despite rarely using it as a weapon, Tom still carries around a hybrid Machete/Saw for survival and tactical purposes.
• Tactical Knife
  For emergency purposes, Tom keeps a sharp knife tucked near his ankle.

Skills:

• Military Training
  With roughly 15 years worth of military service, Tom is a deadly combatant and an excellent survivalist.
• Brawler
  Ever since he was a child, Tom has always been a fan of fighting hand-to-hand. Couple that with his strength and military training, then you have yourself a rather intimidating fighter.
• All Juiced Up
  Simply put, Tom is a beast. Weighing in at around 216 lbs of pure muscle, he is generally much stronger than most people. Not only that, he also has a seemingly endless stamina, being able to lug around heavy equipment over long distances before getting tired.

Supplies and Equipment:

• Two First-Aid Kits
• Multi-tool
• Crowbar
• Binoculars
• Three Paracord bracelets
• Several days worth of clean water
• Several days worth of rations
• Sleeping Bag
• Riot Gear
• Military Webbing
• M40 Gas Mask
• Zippo Lighter
• Chest Flashlight
• 4 Flares

I understand if my character may seem a bit much, but rest assured he is still very much human. He may be a troubled vet with nearly 15 years of combat, but he's far from being an unstoppable force. Don't have to worry about me making an OP, cliche ex-merc who can steamroll everyone. I'll keep everything as realistic as I can. Hope you'll accept :)

A Game Of Eras

Is this still gonna be a thing? ._.

A Game Of Eras

Dumag

Name - Dumag

Gender - Male

Appearance - Dumag stands at a fairly standard 5’8” with 180lbs of muscle and bone sheathed in dark, ebony skin. All this is topped by a wide jawed face with high cheekbones, black eyes and but a scratching of facial and topical hair.

Stats

Strength - 1

Agility - 1

Charisma - 1

Intelligence - 1

Era - Neanderthal

Sorry this took so long. I've been a bit preoccupied by school work lately.
As for what I'd like to see in this Roleplay, what @bluetommy2 mentioned sounds like a great idea. Other than that, I'm pretty much okay with whatevs. At the moment I don't have anything to suggest, but I'll be sure to post them here if I do have any.

Looking forward to starting this RP :)

A Game Of Eras

Improv world building?

Count me in!