Vilhelm — Roleplayer Guild

*Patpat* It's all good man, I feel you. But Zombies are still plenty dangerous. And there are boundaries to the immunity.

Az knows the specifics better than I do, of course, but, if an immune person dies from a bite, they -are- still turned. They just don't turn while alive.

Also, a bite can still get infected. YOu might not turn into a Zed, but a bite is a bite, that shit's germ-tacular. Odds are, it's gonna get infected, and it's gonna be -bad-. So it could just kill you with pathogens. Not to mention, the zombies can still just tear you to pieces and eat you alive. They like to travel in packs. Except the R4's. Scary solo bastards. So there's still plenty of danger! We just won't turn to zombies immediately. And of course people can still make characters -not- immune. I'll have one or two of those myself, even. Though, not yet. Will is my baby for now.

Name:
William Renault

Group:
Walkers

Age:
19

Occupation:
None

Family:
Unknown

Eye/Hair Color:
Pale Gray/Dark Brown

Height/Weight:
5'5"/137 lbs

Blood Type:
B- (Immune to the virus)

Gear:
Will travels light- Really light. The only things he's seen to carry are the clothes on his back and his weapons, as well as a large pouch of things at his belt- Yeah, it's a fanny pack. But it's a god damn manly one, and he keeps it stocked with an impressive array of medicinal herbs, bandages, painkillers, and some small survival things- Flint and steel, a fletching kit, compass... Things of that nature. He also keeps a small journal and a few pens in an inside pocket of his jacket.

Speaking of jacket, his clothes are fairly simple- A pair of jeans, some excellently made boots, a T-shirt that was probably white once, and a tough, worn leather jacket- With a just-as-tough leather belt. All of it has seen inevitable wear and tear, but in general, for clothing worn during the apocalypse, is in pretty good shape.

His weapons are few, but well cared for- Most importantly, his bow. A longbow with a ninety pound draw of excellent craftsmanship, the wood polished lovingly, every curve and groove made with the greatest of care, painted a deep black, this bow is his main weapon for both offense and defense. He can't hit the broad side of a barn with a gun- But put him anywhere within reach of that longbow and he'll cut the tail off a rat without killing the little shit. No really. He's done it before. He keeps a full-length quiver at his hip, two dozen arrows stocked into it at all times

Other than the bow, he has a survival knife strapped to his thigh- Single edged eight inch blade, saw-tooth spine, and an edge hard and sharp enough to cut flesh like butter and bone like wood. He also has his brain and his body. Both are very useful tools, wouldn't you say?

Appearance:

Despite being short, and thus rather light, Will is surprisingly strong- He won't be winning any muscle man competitions of course, or arm-wrestling the hulk. But he draws his bow- At ninety pounds in draw weight- like it's nothing, and can out-run, out-climb, and out-punch the best of them. Most of the time. 

His hair is dark brown in color, and hangs ragged and messy to about his shoulders. Though he doesn't seem to bother cutting it, as it continues to grow out. His eyes- Wild, full of instinct and a survival-driven willpower, are a light gray color, and in those few moments where he is around people -not- trying to kill him, a dry kind of humor born of waking up in what he considers to basically be hell.

He's covered in scars from the recent years- And some array of scars from before the rising. Most are small and inconsequential, but two in particular are of note. One, an obvious bite scar on his left tricep, clearly from a being of... Undead nature. The second, a ragged, blotchy scar along the back of his head, hidden by his hair. Must have been one hell of a blow- And is likely from the hit that gave him his... Problem.

History and Personality:
Will's history is.... Well, a complete and total mystery! At least before eight months ago. It was around then that, somehow, he took a bar stool to the back of the head, and woke up with no idea who he was or where he was. He found an ID in his wallet that placed him as "William Renault", but beyond that and his age, he couldn't make heads or tails of the other things listed on the card- The mysteries of Amnesia, in this case apparently also including the names of the states. Or what states were. Or governments, for that matter. Thankfully, his understanding of English remained in tact.

Along with English, he also discovered he could bring to mind a long list of things that would be useless... If he weren't surrounded by walking dead people and bandits. Botany, biology, zoology, and a lot of smartass remarks. He also found, after a chance encounter with some unfortunate bandits, that he had in muscle memory a -very- good understanding of how to use the bow he woke up with.

So, for the past year and a half, he's roamed around aimlessly, just looking for -anybody- who wasn't trying to kill him.... And maybe some key to his past.

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