SkeankySnack

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

Before I get too big for my britches

FC is 'Jared Leto', font color 669900, Name Hugo Moreau, application for 'other'

Drive Like You Stole It: Summer Road Trip

Hola, Beast is here and in gear

Our Evil Ways

My body is ready

Our Evil Ways

Donald “Don” Ackerson

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Most of the people in the group were making valid points, whether or not they liked it, Freddie Jones was a man of determination and so far, Don trusted his intuition. There were things going on in the group that he had to pay attention to, but at the same time, he was also willing to voice his own opinion to his friend. "I agree with the group split, while some of us gather supplies others can go scout out for a shelter, while also protecting those with us. So long as we have an even distribution of combatants and non-combatants, I think we'll be-" clunk Did...something just strike Don? Looking down he noticed an empty can rolling and spinning around before settling, the aluminum resounding against the asphalt. Turning his attention to the crowd he quickly scanned before noticing a rather guilty and embarrassed face. Maintaining eye contact with the offender @Lovely Complex, he gently crouched down and picked up the can, "Excuse me for a moment Freddie Jones..."

Slowly, but with purpose he walked towards the young woman, eyes remaining in contact with her at all times, a deathly silence upon the group as they parted for him. Once in front of her, his hulking mass more than apparent compared to her tiny frame, he slowly crouched down, face to face, eye to eye. He was still for a few moments before swiftly taking her hand, palm open and placing the can in it, "It may be the apocalypse, but that's no reason for littering young lady." A small grin, barely noticeable plastered on his face. Standing back to full height he warned the girl, "Others...even now, won't be so kind to litterbugs." Stoic expression resumed, he returned back to his original position alongside Freddie Jones, arms crossed, an intimidating pose. "As I was saying, so long as we're evenly distributed, we should be fine."

---

Ollivander Clarke

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---

Ollie listened to her as she ranted on about different blades of different ethnic origins. Despite her appearance, she certainly had the mind of a scholar, and he could only wonder what kind of profession this young woman had before the rug had been pulled from under them all. As she finished her tangent, stating that she'd tell him a specific tale of mythos and legend, he couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't a very loud laugh, but loud enough for anyone close enough to them to hear, but it was well a well needed laugh considering the circumstances. "You wouldn't happen to mean the same Dupthob Jangkha Lap, who was killed by his own creation, now would you?" He smiled considerably, having found another learned person who appreciated history as much as him. "I may not be as well versed in ancient weaponry as you are, but I certainly know of history's tales and lessons, and one that certainly speaks of how pride can sometimes be a vice."

Ollie's smile was warm as he gently raised his cane, "Considering your knowledge, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what this is." Presenting a slight visual for her, he lowered it back down, lowering his voice somewhat, "That being said, I'd rather it not be repeated out loud, stoicism is as much a vital tool as frailty is." His head turned as much as he could, he gave her a subtle wink, "Hopefully when it is calmer, we can certainly share some stories among ourselves and the group as a whole. Reaching in his pocket, he grasped a rather well worn handkerchief, dabbing at his face lightly as he scanned what was going on in the group. He noticed that they had decided to separate some of the members for gathering and others for shelter, but most concerning was his newest pupil Eden, supposedly being harassed by the rather muscular body guard of Mr. Jones.

Putting the cloth away he turned once more to the woman known as KT, "Thank you for indulging me in my curiosities Ms. KT, I look forward to speaking with you more, but for now, it seems that you are needed in more dire places." Pushing himself from the railing he started trotting away before turning back, "If at all possible on your journey, you are able to find a book of obscure, yet historical aspect, I would be greatly appreciative." Nodding in respectful departure, he made his way towards the young Eden @Lovely Complex. Ollie hadn't learned many languages, but one of them was ASL, which was particularly useful for this girl.
Placing his hand on her shoulder gently so as not to startle her, he started signing, "Are you alright my dear?"

Secrets

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---

Millington, a town blanketed in lies; on the outside it looked quaint and pristine, filled with its little cafes and dog parks. Jarrek however knew the truth, that the small town was a corrupt cesspool filled with liars, thieves, hookers and blackjack. One of these days he was gonna blow the whistle, burn this whole town to the ground and wipe it off the map; they'd never get another 5 star review on TripAdvisor ever again. Driving downtown in his mighty Steed, Jarrek's eyes scoured every building, every person, every dog and cat that he almost ran over, searching for even an inkling of evidential course that would lead him to his next bust.

The question was, what evidence was he looking for that was going to lead him to who done gone and did it? That was the one thing really wracking his brain the past couple of weeks, despite all his effort and resources, he was simply stumped. The red threads only traveled so far on his wall, there was one missing link that could lead him to the source. It was only a matter of time before he stumbled upon it, even if he had to conduct tests on every scraping of blood, sweat or semen to find the proof in the bodily pudding. He wasn't above breaking the law either, he'd certainly spent some nights in the precinct, mostly for petty stuff though. Going back Jarrek recounted some of his misdemeanors, like breaking and entering, vandalism, disturbing the peace...he punched a cop once, that didn't go over so well, had to flea the county after that number.

Lost in his own thoughts he barely had time to register the soon to be asphalt planted person in front of his car, before abruptly slamming his brakes and honking his horn. Swerving out of the way he nearly hit a second person before his car collided into a parked car, crumpling up their benders in the process. When the dust had settled Jarrek was visibly and irrationally angry at the situation he landed himself into, "GODDAM- MOTHER FUCKI- COCK SUCKI- WHORES!!!!" Each swear was met with a jostling ragdoll movement of a very frustrated(fat) man, which in turn jostled his car. Attempting to open the door, he realized he was stuck in his car as the door barely budged and angrily started rolling down his window. Once opened he struggled to pull himself through it, with all the aggressiveness of a water buffalo, his fat rolls constrained against the tiny opening, before suddenly popping out and landing back first onto the concrete. "SON OF A BITCH!!!"

Pulling himself up, all the while breathing heavily he searched for his distraction that lead to the unfortunate vehicular collision. Eyeing up his target he started on his tangent "YOU ASSHOLE, LOOK AT WHAT you made..me...do......" Inexplicably the oil canister that was about to explode, suddenly calmed as a realization hit him. The Reverend...OF COURSE!!! Suddenly giddy with joy, Jarrek believed himself to have found the next avenue to the missing link, the reverend was part of the church, church and state were separate, freedom of speech, press, religion, it was PERFECT! "GOD BLESS AMERICA AND THE U.S. CONSTITUTION!!!" Jarrek was practically weeping with joy at this sudden epiphany, lacking any empathy at the damage he caused or the lives he nearly ruined, and completely oblivious to the detective inside the pizza shop. Shoving past his second near accidental kill of the day he hastily approached the Reverend.

"Jarrek Garrethorn, Millington Post, do you have any comments on the sudden disappearance of Mr. Reese and his youngest daughter?!" In ten seconds flat Jarrek had gone from pissed to invasive and he was not above listing off potential kidnappers. He didn't care who they were, so long as they were exposed, whether it was ISIS, the KKK or hell even the goddamn Canadians; where do they got off having free health care?

@Snagglepuss89 @The Muse @Katthaj

Our Evil Ways

Arnold Myers

High noon with a hot sun, stretch of open road with practically zero cover, nearly fifty people in a less than fifty foot radius, if there wasn’t a more literal term for, “out of the frying pan…” than Arnold sure as hell couldn’t think of one. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Arnold had to contemplate his more recent decision making. How long had it been since he joined? Maybe a little over a week now? The days seemed to blur together, and between the heat and lack of water, the days only seemed to have melded moreso. Even so, he’d been through a hell of a lot before this, he was just more well supplied. Watching people screaming as they were being eaten, cops and military were practically ineffective in the long run, bases being overrun by the sheer number of ’them’. It was only a matter of time before the people around him were taken, or even he was taken, hell at this point everyone in this party was just biding their time.

Arnold sighed rather frustratingly, a hand grazing over his torque wrench gently carried in the makeshift sheath that was a belt loop, before breathing deeply. ’Get a hold of yourself, he thought, ’sure shit has hit the fan, but you can make it through this, a day at a time.’ Though he really wanted to believe that, this sorry lot of pack scavengers wasn’t going to last long unless they actually banded together and formed a stronghold somewhere. The city wasn’t a viable option, too many of them already had a hold of it, the forest wasn’t a great option either, plenty of game, but there were too many blind spots amongst the foliage that they couldn’t afford the ambush. Nearly a year ago, Arnold wouldn’t of thought of this crap, he’d be working on a Ford Mustang or a Ducatti or some kind of fuckin’ car and just zone out. Now, he was literally planning on what kind of forward base a group of survivors could call their home, something they could build, fortify and protect, even with half of the assclowns that were around. Sure most of them were ‘troubled’, but if it was either food and water vs. the wasteland, they’d turn around and settle in line.

It wasn’t until the group stopped and he nearly ran into the big muscle head of the group, Don? That he realized that Freddie was speaking. A trip to Costco? That seemed like a fruitless endeavor...however...a lightbulb went off in his head. ”Food and water might already be gone, but hopefully there’s other useful stuff that no one would even think about.” In his mind Arnold was already thinking of the possibilities of different tools that could be available as well as scrap that could be converted into other items. ”Clothing for one would be a good start,” not only was it flammable, but to be fair, everyone was as dirty as..well a mechanic, and fresh clothing could be a useful morale boost, since hot water was nowhere to be found. ”Any camping or travel gear we can find can store more items for later scavenging, tools and scrap are useful too.” For the first time in a while, Arnold felt excited, even forgetting about the current water and food situation. Hand gripped tightly around his ‘club’ he smirked at the hulk before him before turning towards Freddie, ”I’m willing to go with anyone else who wants to, I can help spot out the stuff we need in the long run.”

---

Donald “Don” Ackerson

Six months and ten days since it nearly all started, even now he could still remember Freddie Jones words that they needed to get out before Don nodded assuringly, getting as many people out of the bar alive. He wasn’t a bodyguard, he wasn’t supposed to protect people with his life, he was a bouncer, someone who roughed someone up when they were being too rowdy, touchy, or plain old creepy. Most days he thought about Day Z, thought about how most of the patrons...didn’t make it, in a way it haunted him, it haunted the oath he swore by and broke at the same time. At the end of the day though, he saved his bro, and he saved his bro’s daughter and that...that was enough to console him; at least long enough.

Donald Ackerson on the outside was a stoic and intimidating man, but on the inside he actually cared about those around him, particularly Freddie Jones and especially Jones’ daughter Alex, ‘lil firefly’ he’d call her. Even in this gloom, cruel and disgusting land, she always had a way to shine among those around her. He’d known Freddie Jones and his kid long enough that both were practically family, she was, in notion alone, his niece. At one point in his life Don thought the only people he’d have to protect her from would be the boys trying to get a piece of her. Nowadays he didn’t think he’d literally have to protect her from ‘things’ trying to get a ‘piece’ from her. Well...so long as ‘Uncle Don’ was around, she wouldn’t have to worry about nuthin’, same with her pops.

Coming back from his thoughts, he noticed that the mechanic was slowly invading his personal space, clearly engaged in his own thinking. Fortunately he noticed before ‘popping Don’s bubble’ the one that would have left him on the ground. Even so, the mechanic didn’t seem like a threat, not unlike some of the other knuckleheads, the ones that clearly needed a swift fist to the teeth if they even sneezed out of place. Out of the few that came to mind he trusted was probably KT, didn’t know why she was called that but she was a fighter, and just as quiet as he was. In a way if Don was Freddie Jones’ right hand, she would have been his left, hell maybe she was. Out of everyone else, there were too many kids and too many unwilling to follow people, both presented a problem in and of itself, but even though Don didn’t make the rules, he certainly helped enforce them.

Even as Freddie Jones told his plan of going to Costco, Don silently observed the group around them. Some seemed hesitant, while others eager, there were some...individuals who his gut didn’t trust, the grave digger seemed like one of them, that redneck (not quite right in the head) who brought back food seemed like another, the gangster and ex-con were top on his list of who to fuck up if shit hit the fan. All in all, there was a group of good, a group of bad, and a real~ nasty group of ugly that he had to keep an eye on all the time. So long as they didn’t stir up the hornet’s nest they’d be fine, but who knows how long that’d last.

---

Ollivander Clarke

Back in his younger days, Ollivander Hemingway Clarke, along with his late wife the beautiful Emily Diana Dickenson, would have enjoyed a day like today. A day out on the safari, a harsh sun beaming at their backs, a lion poised to roar as they drove their jeep in the savannah, pictures ready to be taken. Today...was not one of those days, i hoʻohalahala lā, or ‘harsh sun’ as the Hawaiians would say was not one to be taken for granted. It weakened and dehydrated the body, lost will to the spirit and in this case...made them a perfect target for Cathartes aura, or the Turkey Vulture as it were. Normally such a genus would rest along the Mississippi river, but chances would have it due to recent events they have migrated towards this area along with many others in search of food; Darwin would certainly be proud.

Ollie would have no doubt been one of the last survivors to join such a rancorous group, but as luck would have it he was in a bit of a pickle and truly needed their help. Now having joined them, roaming the land and the current Minnesota highway he was grateful for the temporary rescue from the uncomely beings that gave chase to him. As he continued his travels with the rather large group he noticed that the children had grown fond of him and his stories, along with any adults that wished to indulge him. Certainly there were some unruly characters, but they mostly kept their distance.from the rest of the group. This was no problem to the elderly professor as he shared his knowledge when he could, while also listening to those who desired his council. In this particular case, they were stopped, alone and debating and all he could do was stand about and wait.

What did catch his eye during the debate was the sword that the woman ‘KT’ wore. Perhaps it was an acronym, perhaps it meant nothing more than Katie and it was simply a misnomer. In the end, Ollie was glad to be amongst individuals with both a shared skill set and hopefully a mind open to all possibilities; even ones such as his. Curiosity has its constraints though, he limped over towards the swords-woman, his cane guiding every step, before leaning on the railing next to her.

”I apologize madame,” he nodded in respect, ”Indulge an old man like myself, but...I’ve been observing your sword for some time now, it appears ornate, yet most of its stones have either lost luster or fallen off completely.” Perhaps he was entering the lion’s den, but a scholar never loses a chance to ask a question. ”Given the intricacy...can I assume it's a Falchion? Something of the 15th century, possibly belonging to an Arabian warlord?” Even among the current discussion and the arguments being presented, Professor Ollivander had a knack of learning before debating.

Our Evil Ways

Olivander Clarke

^{_{FFD700|David McCallum}}

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Professor Olivander ‘Doc’ Clarke
^{University Historian}

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Physical Characteristics

Old and wise, with a kind smile that could melt anyone’s heart. Walks around with a cane more for appearances than to combat any physical ailment. More English than you at least.

Life Before the Apocalypse

”I think I was a small child when I fell in love with history and lore, listening to tales of gods and men from my father and grandfather. I’ve spent the last four decades at the Oxford University, both as a student and mentor, dedicating my life to teaching those who were willing to listen to all I had learned. I was to retire at the end of the school year, knowing that my life was one well lived, thought I’d go on Holiday to America, lovely time of the year too; who knew what would be waiting for me.

The thing for me about history and mythos, is that I always felt they exaggerated things a little. Hercules and his twelve labors, the tales of Thor and Ragnarok, even the mighty Count Dracula; it all seemed so...excessive. Now that I live in the world that I do, I realize I was mistaken, for the legends of old were not over the top, they just barely hit the nail on the head.”

Strengths & Weaknesses

➕ Storyteller: The books that Doc has read over the years, could fill the library of Alexandria a hundred fold. Stories are needed in these dark times to calm the nerves of those who feel that reality is out of their grasp.
➕ Wisdom & Cunning: The two may seem miles apart, but they are in fact two sides of the same coin. Age has taken its toll on the historian who can respond to certain situations, both when its quiet or rather tense.
➖ Frail Coil: While he’s not ready to lie down and roll over, age has had its toll on the Professor’s body and he’s not the man he used to be. Darwin is simply catching up to him.
➖ Mind over Matter: The brain can unlock the puzzles of history and time, but it can’t help if there’s something heavy in the way, or something that requires a stamina he does not possess.

Personal Goals

Short Term: In these harsh times, distractions are the wall between survival and total insanity. He needs to keep the group’s morale up any way he can, whether its be a story weaver or an ear to lend. Only through unity can the group survive, and he will do all he can to thread the lives of one another to their singular goal.

Long Term: He wants to pass on as much knowledge as he can before his time; history is not yet dead. Like in the story ‘The Giver’, he is one of the last bearers of historical knowledge, knowledge that can lead the group from total cultural annihilation, to one that can use the past to forge the future. He knows that he doesn’t have many more years in him, and with the walkers, his life expectancy is even shorter. For all that everyone has done for him to survive thus far, he wants to return the favor in the only way he knows how; to ensure that the group doesn’t lose their humanity.

Inventory

● Intricately Crafted Cane: Heirloom to his great grandfather, a survivor of the Afghan War, Veterans were awarded this cane. Despite its aged appearance, it does hide a deadly secret inside.
● Pocket Watch: Heirloom of his father, a sterling silver pocket watch the professor carries inside his pocket, doesn’t hurt to keep check of the time (even still has the key to wind it)
● Copy of Oliver Twist: Probably one of Doc’s favorite books, its edges are rather well worn and somewhat torn. It was the only book he brought while on Holiday.

Our Evil Ways

Arnold Myers

^{_{778899| Lane Toran}}

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Arnold Myers
^{Automotive Mechanic}

---

Physical Characteristics

Well toned, burly beard and plenty of tats, most notable the flaming engine and cross wrenches on his back, an homage to the Jolly Roger, that pirates would fly on their flags.

Life Before the Apocalypse

"My father was a Mechanical Engineer, and I practically grew up around cars my whole life. When my dad wasn’t inventing the next great invention since sliced bread, he was spending time in the garage working on automobiles. Just...tinkering with them, upgrading them; and I was always at his side when he was. At the young age of 12, I began learning how cars worked, at 17 I was hired to work at a local automotive shop as a mechanic; best job I ever had. My original intent was to become and M.E. like my dad, but cars had a huge affect on me, the way they rumbled and roared. Honestly if it wasn’t fixing a car on the weekdays, it was watching Top Gear on the weekends with pops. After he passed...things haven't been the same, I mostly kept my head down to focus on my work, but now that the apocalypse has arrived, I have to face it head on, just like him. I've gotta use everything I know and ever will know to survive this, I wish you were here for this dad, and at the same time, I'm glad you ain't."

Strengths & Weaknesses

➕ Car Mechanics: Extensive knowledge of cars and how to make them work/ability to repair them (Gasoline, Diesel, Hybrid)
➕ General mechanics: Things he learned from his dad, something along the lines with tinkering with objects to figure out how they work
➖ Over-Achiever: While this might sound like a good thing, Arnold is the type to think things through so thoroughly on a project, that he’s wasting precious time to finish it (good in the old world, not in the new)
➖ Strong-Headed: Can be very opinionated on certain subjects and how they work, a trait that most engineers don. If he doesn’t agree with an idea he’ll do it his way, completely ignoring any other options.

Personal Goals

Short Term: He needs to acquire more tools, while he does have some, he doesn’t have the full arsenal that his shop originally had available. At the same time he wants to teach people basic mechanic skills, like changing oil or car batteries.
Long Term: Eventually making a mobile, armored caravan that can smash its way through zombies, raiders and blockades, it will require a significant amount of metal, tools and fuel, but it is a feasible goal, so long as everyone listens to his directive. Worst case, should he ever get infected, he wants a protege to learn all he knows, be to them like his father was to him.

Inventory

●Small toolkit (contains screwdrivers, wrenches, a hammer, some ratchets)
●(Big) Torque Wrench (Normally used to fasten anything between 25-250 ft-lb. onto a vehicle, now it's exclusively used as a club to bash in skulls)
●Father’s Class Ring (Mostly just a sentimental memento, of a time not so long ago. The ring is made of Sterling Silver, with an Amethyst stone inlay. Wears it as a necklace inside his shirt to not give away his position)

Donald "Don" Ackerson

^{_{FF4500 Dwayne Johnson}}

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Donald “Don” Ackerson
^Bouncer

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Physical Characteristics

More muscle than you want to deal with without a gun, can you smell what the Rock is cooking?

Life Before the Apocalypse

”Things were a lot simpler, y’know? Someone got a little touchy with the ladies, ya throw them out. Someone started cussing at the bartender, cuz they cut em’ off, ya threw them out. Someone straight up start fisticuffing and it’s not even happy hour? Ya threw the both of them out. Even Afghanistan was simple when I joined the army, but now...Things aren’t as simple anymore, but I do know one thing, I trust Freddie. The minute he said, we needed to bail, I said to him, “say no more”. I’m not good for much else than keeping people safe, it's a wonder I haven’t been bitten yet, but I think I’ve done more help as a protector than as a bouncer. I think I found my calling, it only took ‘till the end of the world to realize it.”

Strengths & Weaknesses

➕ Strongman: Even before the zombie outbreak, Don had been lifting weights almost all his life. Due to his extensive training, he can lift almost anything lighter than a brick shit house.
➕ Crowd Control: Aside from his strength, his size allows him to be an intimidating factor. People get too unruly, just stand in between them with a hard look on your face and tensions fall ‘reaaaaal’ quick.
➖Bulked Up: His overall strength equates to being massive, which means he can’t fit into tight spaces, which could lead to a detriment in the event that a horde ever showed up.
➖ Brawn vs. Brain: Sure his muscle comes in handy, but he’s not gonna be able to handle the daily crossword puzzle, let alone a myriad of minefield mazes.

Personal Goals

Short Term: Just keep the group together and inline, last thing he wants is chaos to come around, and that’s a fine line between that and insanity. So long as he can maintain order until something stable comes along, all he can do is keep the peace.

Long Term: He just wants safety for the entire caravan. Human life is sacred, at least that’s what his mom told him. A shelter for all of them to thrive, food, water, electricity and general necessities is a must. As a bouncer his goal is to protect his family, and their caravan has become his new family.

Inventory

●A set of brass knuckles (Something he kept on him since the beginning, someone wants their dome knocked around, the knuckles help, but otherwise he usually delegates his own hands)
● DogTags (A thing of the past, something that existed before the end, a war before ‘the war’. He doesn’t want to forget that life, though he sure as hell is regretting that he can’t forget his current life).
●Rambo Knife (A gift after he graduated boot camp, more of as a gag from his college buddies, but in the end times, he’s found it more handy than any other utility he owns whether it’s killing Walkers or prying open doors.)

Ollivander Clarke

^{_{FFD700|David McCallum}}

---

Professor Ollivander ‘Ollie’ Clarke
^{University Historian}

---

Physical Characteristics

Old and wise, with a kind smile that could melt anyone’s heart. Walks around with a cane more for appearances than to combat any physical ailment. More English than you at least.

Life Before the Apocalypse

”I think I was a small child when I fell in love with history and lore, listening to tales of gods and men from my father and grandfather. I’ve spent the last four decades at the Oxford University, both as a student and mentor, dedicating my life to teaching those who were willing to listen to all I had learned. I was to retire at the end of the school year, knowing that my life was one well lived, thought I’d go on Holiday to America, lovely time of the year too; who knew what would be waiting for me.

The thing for me about history and mythos, is that I always felt they exaggerated things a little. Hercules and his twelve labors, the tales of Thor and Ragnarok, even the mighty Count Dracula; it all seemed so...excessive. Now that I live in the world that I do, I realize I was mistaken, for the legends of old were not over the top, they just barely hit the nail on the head.”

Strengths & Weaknesses

➕ Storyteller: The books that Doc has read over the years, could fill the library of Alexandria a hundred fold. Stories are needed in these dark times to calm the nerves of those who feel that reality is out of their grasp.
➕ Wisdom & Cunning: The two may seem miles apart, but they are in fact two sides of the same coin. Age has taken its toll on the historian who can respond to certain situations, both when its quiet or rather tense.
➖ Frail Coil: While he’s not ready to lie down and roll over, age has had its toll on the Professor’s body and he’s not the man he used to be. Darwin is simply catching up to him.
➖ Mind over Matter: The brain can unlock the puzzles of history and time, but it can’t help if there’s something heavy in the way, or something that requires a stamina he does not possess.

Personal Goals

Short Term: In these harsh times, distractions are the wall between survival and total insanity. He needs to keep the group’s morale up any way he can, whether its be a story weaver or an ear to lend. Only through unity can the group survive, and he will do all he can to thread the lives of one another to their singular goal.

Long Term: He wants to pass on as much knowledge as he can before his time; history is not yet dead. Like in the story ‘The Giver’, he is one of the last bearers of historical knowledge, knowledge that can lead the group from total cultural annihilation, to one that can use the past to forge the future. He knows that he doesn’t have many more years in him, and with the walkers, his life expectancy is even shorter. For all that everyone has done for him to survive thus far, he wants to return the favor in the only way he knows how; to ensure that the group doesn’t lose their humanity.

Inventory

● Intricately Crafted Cane: Heirloom to his great grandfather, a survivor of the Afghan War, Veterans were awarded this cane. Despite its aged appearance, it does hide a deadly secret inside.
● Pocket Watch: Heirloom of his father, a sterling silver pocket watch the professor carries inside his pocket, doesn’t hurt to keep check of the time (even still has the key to wind it)
● Copy of Oliver Twist: Probably one of Doc’s favorite books, its edges are rather well worn and somewhat torn. It was the only book he brought while on Holiday.

Our Evil Ways

So I was 'totally' informed of this RP 'way in advance' thanks @Lovely Complex, if you've still got room I'd like to reserve a spot. Noticed y'all don't have a mechanic, so that's my first character, I'll get right on it.

Arnold Myers

^{_{778899| Lane Toran}}

---

Arnold Myers
^{Automotive Mechanic}

---

Physical Characteristics

Well toned, burly beard and plenty of tats, most notable the flaming engine and cross wrenches on his back, an homage to the Jolly Roger, that pirates would fly on their flags.

Life Before the Apocalypse

"My father was a Mechanical Engineer, and I practically grew up around cars my whole life. When my dad wasn’t inventing the next great invention since sliced bread, he was spending time in the garage working on automobiles. Just...tinkering with them, upgrading them; and I was always at his side when he was. At the young age of 12, I began learning how cars worked, at 17 I was hired to work at a local automotive shop as a mechanic; best job I ever had. My original intent was to become and M.E. like my dad, but cars had a huge affect on me, the way they rumbled and roared. Honestly if it wasn’t fixing a car on the weekdays, it was watching Top Gear on the weekends with pops. After he passed...things haven't been the same, I mostly kept my head down to focus on my work, but now that the apocalypse has arrived, I have to face it head on, just like him. I've gotta use everything I know and ever will know to survive this, I wish you were here for this dad, and at the same time, I'm glad you ain't."

Strengths & Weaknesses

➕ Car Mechanics: Extensive knowledge of cars and how to make them work/ability to repair them (Gasoline, Diesel, Hybrid)
➕ General mechanics: Things he learned from his dad, something along the lines with tinkering with objects to figure out how they work
➖ Over-Achiever: While this might sound like a good thing, Arnold is the type to think things through so thoroughly on a project, that he’s wasting precious time to finish it (good in the old world, not in the new)
➖ Strong-Headed: Can be very opinionated on certain subjects and how they work, a trait that most engineers don. If he doesn’t agree with an idea he’ll do it his way, completely ignoring any other options.

Personal Goals

Short Term: He needs to acquire more tools, while he does have some, he doesn’t have the full arsenal that his shop originally had available. At the same time he wants to teach people basic mechanic skills, like changing oil or car batteries.
Long Term: Eventually making a mobile, armored caravan that can smash its way through zombies, raiders and blockades, it will require a significant amount of metal, tools and fuel, but it is a feasible goal, so long as everyone listens to his directive. Worst case, should he ever get infected, he wants a protege to learn all he knows, be to them like his father was to him.

Inventory

●Small toolkit (contains screwdrivers, wrenches, a hammer, some ratchets)
●(Big) Torque Wrench (Normally used to fasten anything between 25-250 ft-lb. onto a vehicle, now it's exclusively used as a club to bash in skulls)
●Father’s Class Ring (Mostly just a sentimental memento, of a time not so long ago. The ring is made of Sterling Silver, with an Amethyst stone inlay. Wears it as a necklace inside his shirt to not give away his position)

Donald "Don" Ackerson

^{_{FF4500 Dwayne Johnson}}

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Donald “Don” Ackerson
^Bouncer

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Physical Characteristics

More muscle than you want to deal with without a gun, can you smell what the Rock is cooking?

Life Before the Apocalypse

”Things were a lot simpler, y’know? Someone got a little touchy with the ladies, ya throw them out. Someone started cussing at the bartender, cuz they cut em’ off, ya threw them out. Someone straight up start fisticuffing and it’s not even happy hour? Ya threw the both of them out. Even Afghanistan was simple when I joined the army, but now...Things aren’t as simple anymore, but I do know one thing, I trust Freddie. The minute he said, we needed to bail, I said to him, “say no more”. I’m not good for much else than keeping people safe, it's a wonder I haven’t been bitten yet, but I think I’ve done more help as a protector than as a bouncer. I think I found my calling, it only took ‘till the end of the world to realize it.”

Strengths & Weaknesses

➕ Strongman: Even before the zombie outbreak, Don had been lifting weights almost all his life. Due to his extensive training, he can lift almost anything lighter than a brick shit house.
➕ Crowd Control: Aside from his strength, his size allows him to be an intimidating factor. People get too unruly, just stand in between them with a hard look on your face and tensions fall ‘reaaaaal’ quick.
➖Bulked Up: His overall strength equates to being massive, which means he can’t fit into tight spaces, which could lead to a detriment in the event that a horde ever showed up.
➖ Brawn vs. Brain: Sure his muscle comes in handy, but he’s not gonna be able to handle the daily crossword puzzle, let alone a myriad of minefield mazes.

Personal Goals

Short Term: Just keep the group together and inline, last thing he wants is chaos to come around, and that’s a fine line between that and insanity. So long as he can maintain order until something stable comes along, all he can do is keep the peace.

Long Term: He just wants safety for the entire caravan. Human life is sacred, at least that’s what his mom told him. A shelter for all of them to thrive, food, water, electricity and general necessities is a must. As a bouncer his goal is to protect his family, and their caravan has become his new family.

Inventory

●A set of brass knuckles (Something he kept on him since the beginning, someone wants their dome knocked around, the knuckles help, but otherwise he usually delegates his own hands)
● DogTags (A thing of the past, something that existed before the end, a war before ‘the war’. He doesn’t want to forget that life, though he sure as hell is regretting that he can’t forget his current life).
●Rambo Knife (A gift after he graduated boot camp, more of as a gag from his college buddies, but in the end times, he’s found it more handy than any other utility he owns whether it’s killing Walkers or prying open doors.)

Strings

A collab with @Moon Child

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On the far side of the nightclub, tucked away in his own little corner with a wall separating him from the dance floor, was Joshua Paxton. The man was sitting in his office, elegantly built in both function and form and sporting the dark, yet curiously inviting interior befitting of a nightclub owner. A wooden desk, leather armchairs, leather couch and a drink station adorned the setting along with a few other amenities. The walls that blocked him from the dance floor were made from thick frosted glass, and sound proofed so that only the dull thumping of the bass broke through. The intent of this office being on the opposite side from Tate was to give the ambience that the two young co-owners despised each other. This wasn’t entirely far from the truth, but it more-so enhanced their ongoing rivalry. Like a game of chess, strategically countering one another: white king vs black. Which one was who, was up for the patrons to decide.

For all intents and purposes though, it was not just his office, but his second home… Which had become more true given his co-owner’s decision to form a partnership with Spectrum, had left Joshua running a little more ragged than usual.

“What the hell do you mean, it’s going to be late?!” For example: this shipment of high end liquor and kegs that Tate desperately wanted, but chose to go against his advice on waiting until the partnership had actually fallen through. “Oh! The roads are that bad, yeah?!” A freak blizzard came out of nowhere in the midwest, causing the trucks to be delayed, “I’m well fucking aware that weather happens! Take a step outside once in a while and maybe a fucking rock will come flying at your face! You prick!”

Oooh boy, he was definitely feeling it: little to no sleep, wrinkled clothes and a five o’clock shadow will do that to you. He was already his third whiskey in and it wasn’t even noon. “Frankly, Princess, I don’t give a damn! If you don’t get me this shipment by the end of the week, it's your ass! You get that, right?!” Pawns almost gone, pieces are dwindling, and to top the icing on the cake, he stole his queen: Lena, the best damn bartender on this side of Boston. She had the idea of becoming a house mom and giving up the bar as her primary form of income. She was the damn reason the bar made as much money at night as it did! From his perspective, Tate was aiming for a ‘Check’ in this match.

As if to dampen his mood more, his door started being knocked on rather hard. “OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE! I’m busy, FUCK OFF, TATE!!!” Tate could go pump sand for all he cared at this point, he had work to do. ”No, not you dipshit! This conversation ain’t over yet!” he shouted into the phone.

For the second time in the day, Stephanie showed her lack of manners by shamelessly barging into Joshua’s office without being invited to do so. “It’s me, babe, not your dumbass cousin,” she declared as she shut and locked the door behind her, marched into the room and plopped herself in one of the armchairs facing the desk. “I need attention.”

Huh...unexpected, his brows went from shock back into just slightly pissed, “Don’t matter. I’m busy. Piss off.” He was acting about as good as he looked right now, practically a mess as he tore into the phone again, swivelling his chair away from his employee, “Look, just throw some fuckin’ chains on those bad boys and run the goddamn booze up here! How hard is it to drive a fuckin’ truck!” Noticing she hadn’t moved yet, he waved his hand to the door, brushing her off, “You want attention. Sweetheart? Go talk to one of the other girls. That’s what I literally pay them for. Better yet: go stare into a mirror. At least that way it’s free.”

“What the fuck is up with you Paxton men this morning?!” she cried out, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Stephanie was not leaving the room until she got what she wanted from at least one of her bosses, and most certainly didn’t care if the person who Josh was speaking to heard her. “I wish I knew what stick crawled up both your asses this morning, or is it just ‘let’s be assholes to Spice’ day? Because I wish I would have gotten the fucking memo!”

“Christ almighty! Listen, bub, it's your lucky day! I have an in-house problem right now, but you better believe I’m calling back!” he swung around rapidly in his chair, ’Cause right now, your ass is grass, AND I’M THE FUCKIN’ MOWER!!!” He slammed the phone, before turning all his attention at the female across his desk, “What. In the FUCK. Do you want?!” he shouted through gritted teeth, “Do you know how much of a fuckin’ mess my cousin has gotten me into?! I’m trying to run a business, plan an event, coordinate with entertainment, logistic-stchicking booze halfway from across the country, to something that I’m not even sure is actually happening yet.” The whole time, he’s smacking the back of his hand into his open palm, as if to accentuate each verse. Tearing away from his desk, he’s pacing back and forth. “My ‘stick’, if you will, is a log named Tate Fuckin’ Paxton, who’s really bustin’ my balls. And to top it off, stealing one of my girls!” he emphasised, pointing at himself before pointing at her. “to be your emotional hand-holder. So, forgive me, dear, if I’m a little fuckin’ livid!”

Instead of lashing out right back at her boss, Spice could feel her eyes start to tear up again. As much as she tried, she couldn’t understand why the hell were both Josh and Tate in such bad moods, or why they were choosing to take it out on her of all people. She decided that maybe the best idea was to simply call it a day and leave things be.

“Whatever. It’s fine. I’ll just get out of your way then. I’m sorry I’m being such a bother today,” Stephanie finally muttered before getting up and heading towards the door.

Breathing heavily, his tirade over, he felt a small pang of guilt at just letting loose on his employee, but the stress had been building up. Taking a deep breath and downing his whiskey, he sighed, before pouring another glass and downing that one too. Slowly he placed the glass upside down on the table before smoothing out his hair and walking towards her, a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry... My cousin’s a prick and I haven’t gotten any real sleep in four days, so I’m a little on edge. Stay a minute, won’t you?” Releasing his grip on her, letting her decide to stay or go, he made his way back to his chair and sat in it, sighing in discomfort. “Look, I’ll give you the time of day. What did he do now, and what sense do I have to talk him into?” His gaze was somewhat calculating, but one of concern. To lose out on two employees in one morning would be a disaster, lest he hear shit from his cousin for running out one of their dancers.

Letting out a sigh, Spice turned on her heel and trudged back to the seat she’d just been in less than a minute ago. It didn’t take long for her to pour out her heart to Josh, words coming up in a stream of emotions that were begging to be released. “It’s just… Tate and I had a really good thing going on before you guys hired me here. I’m not saying we were talking a relationship or anything serious like that - God knows you can never tie down a man like that - , but we messed around a lot and we both liked the silent agreement that was going on. So when I got the job, my first obvious question for him was if this meant things would change between us, and he fucking promised me that they wouldn't. And now, fast forward to a few weeks, he’s suddenly acting as if nothing ever happened and I’m just another one of the bunch!” she stated, using hand gestures to gesticulate as her voice was steadily rising along with her annoyance and anger about the whole thing. “And that’s not all, of course: the asshole has the nerve to fucking blow me off everytime I try to confront him about it! How do you even deal with shit like that?! It pisses me the fuck off!”

A brow raised, he answered rather shortly, “Honestly? Whiskey…” And with that he raised his form up, trudged over to the bar and poured his buzzed self another glass, making sure to pour one for the poor girl before him. Then, as he resumed his position in front of her, making sure to shove the clean glass in front of her, he recounted her position. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting here… You want me to tell my cousin that his gonads need a fine polish in the one machine willing to clean them? Taking a strong sip of the brown liquid, he breathed heavily. “Frankly, darling, once my cousin has his mind set on something, there’s no turning back or going around it. All I can do is follow along his railroad tracked mind. Something you might have to get used to.” Another sip, “My advice: find yourself another train to ride. ‘Cause if this one’s full up of guff, you might be out of luck.” Tate could be harsh, sure, but like he said: once he had his mind set on something, it was hard to fall out of line. You just had to make sure you didn’t burn in the sun behind his caravan.

As Stephanie took the whiskey glass that was offered to her from the desk, she mulled over what Josh had just said. If there was somebody in this world who knew Tate inside and out, it would most certainly be his cousin. So, obviously, she had to trust what he was saying. In other circumstances, Spice would have ignored all advice given to her and, like the stubborn girl that she was, would have continued to fight a long-lost battle. But with Tate, it was easy to see that the fight was not worth it. It didn’t mean that she would be giving up completely, of course. Instead, she would find other ways to achieve her goals, while getting extra benefits for herself in the process.

Just like that, a lightbulb went off in her head. It was an idea that would be considered incredibly scummy by most, but would it really be that bad if they were never serious in the first place? Spice thought not.

Smirking now, Stephanie downed the whiskey in the glass in one shot and stood up from her chair, a gleam of determination in her brown eyes. “So if you’re saying that Tate’s a lost cause, do you have any idea of what other trains I can be riding off into the sunset?” she asked in a kittenish voice, walking over around the desk to Josh’s side and taking a seat on it.

His eyebrow further raised, he couldn’t help but wonder… No… She couldn’t be… But maybe…

A light bulb settled in his own head. He and Tate had their differences, sure, but even this could be crossing of the line of their rivalry. Even so, his cousin had been fucking him in the ass for the past week. Wouldn’t it be so poetic if he could do the same to one of his baggages?

‘Perhaps the white queen could be of some benefit here’

A small smile creeped up Josh’s lips, almost Grinch-like, as he reached for a remote. “I don’t even know what you could possibly mean, Kitten,” he said, a homage to his cousin’s belittling of the dancer, while a button pressed and a bed suddenly unfurled itself from the wall. “I suppose the Amtrak is always an option.”. As he stood, just tall enough above her, his dark eyes were piercing every fiber of her being. “But I know of one caboose just raring to let their steam out, maybe even two.” Eyes locked onto hers, he lifted a finger just below her chin, raising it to meet his own. “I don’t suppose you’ll be needing a ticket?” Sure it was getting a little corny, but both she and Tate had this coming: their purple thread, nearly centimeters apart from one another.

Well, fuck. This was going a hell of a lot better than what she had anticipated.

Not only was Josh interested in the thinly-veiled proposition Spice had just made him, but he seemed to be absolutely willing to be an active participant of it. As if his words weren’t enough, he backed them up with actions: summoning the bed from the wall with the push of a button and making her temporarily breathless when their eyes met. Stephanie didn’t dare say a word, afraid that if she did she would somehow disrupt the sexual tension that was suddenly filling the room. The single finger gently raising her chin up to face him sent feelings of wanting, desire and lust down her body, all of them enhanced by the purple string that bind them together.

Instead of saying anything, Spice offered Joshua her most sultry, irresistible smile, slowly licking her top lip with the tip of her tongue. She knew that would be enough for him to know exactly where her mind was at.

His eyes traced her lips before looking back at her. ”I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he said before sweeping the broad off her feet and gently tossing her onto the now fully extended bed. Josh wasted no time in climbing atop her, lustful eyes staring at her every curve before he gave Stephanie the attention she needed. “Don’t worry, my darling: all your worries will soon come to an end. After all, I’m very good at what I do.”

The Spice in front of him may feel she had won this match. But the truth was that the early bird gets the worm, and he was the hawk to her caterpillar. She played right into him; right into Tate’s dopey and delicate heart. He’d bed the queen of white only to strike a deafening blow to his cousin the king. ”Counter-check and subsequently...Mate….