Name: Zeke Cross
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Appearance: http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/330/7/3/adahy_by_bayanghitam-d4h93z7.jpg
Rank: PFC
Class: Shocktrooper
Weapons and Equipment: MAGS M1, Bowie Knife, Flask of whiskey & Grenades
Personality: Abrasive, Silent, Disturbingly apt at the use of violence
Bio: Born on the streets Zeke quickly discovered his knack for violenxe, darkee trhan the other children he was often singled out for abuse, because even among the urchins cruelty trumped decency. At the age of 8 Zeke fell in woth an organized crime family and learned streetsmarts in lieu of a actual school based education. At th age of 16 he broke off from his adopted caregivers and started his own organized crime family which quickly folded under the pressures of mistrust and youthful angst. Following the failure he drifted from town to town earning his keep as a handyman or if the situation called for it, a leg breaker. Eventually he same to a semi permanent rest when he found stable position as the barkeep and bouncer of a small pub.
RP Sample: "Jerry's at it again!" Zeke sighed as Sinclair the lead wench screamed at him shrilly. It had been such a nice day too. Zeke quickly finished wiping up the counter as strode boldly to the southwest corner of the establishment, old Jerry was making a real ass of himself, quite a feat 10 pints in as he was. Zeke clasped his hand on Old Jerry's shoulder "Time to go" he intoned with his flat passionless voice. "The fuck I am-" Jerry never got to finish that rebuttal as he was soon ass over ears and tumbling out onto the cobblestone street.
"Another day" Zeke sighed to himself as he wiped his hand on his apron and walked into the rear of the pub, the owner Mac stayed back there doing the books and Zeke still had his Day's wages to collect. It would save time to have Mac just govfe the money to the whpres down the street becuase that is where it was invariably going but Zeke always found the feel of !omey in his hands to be a comforting one.
Rosie is my waifu
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Appearance: http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/330/7/3/adahy_by_bayanghitam-d4h93z7.jpg
Rank: PFC
Class: Shocktrooper
Weapons and Equipment: MAGS M1, Bowie Knife, Flask of whiskey & Grenades
Personality: Abrasive, Silent, Disturbingly apt at the use of violence
Bio: Born on the streets Zeke quickly discovered his knack for violenxe, darkee trhan the other children he was often singled out for abuse, because even among the urchins cruelty trumped decency. At the age of 8 Zeke fell in woth an organized crime family and learned streetsmarts in lieu of a actual school based education. At th age of 16 he broke off from his adopted caregivers and started his own organized crime family which quickly folded under the pressures of mistrust and youthful angst. Following the failure he drifted from town to town earning his keep as a handyman or if the situation called for it, a leg breaker. Eventually he same to a semi permanent rest when he found stable position as the barkeep and bouncer of a small pub.
RP Sample: "Jerry's at it again!" Zeke sighed as Sinclair the lead wench screamed at him shrilly. It had been such a nice day too. Zeke quickly finished wiping up the counter as strode boldly to the southwest corner of the establishment, old Jerry was making a real ass of himself, quite a feat 10 pints in as he was. Zeke clasped his hand on Old Jerry's shoulder "Time to go" he intoned with his flat passionless voice. "The fuck I am-" Jerry never got to finish that rebuttal as he was soon ass over ears and tumbling out onto the cobblestone street.
"Another day" Zeke sighed to himself as he wiped his hand on his apron and walked into the rear of the pub, the owner Mac stayed back there doing the books and Zeke still had his Day's wages to collect. It would save time to have Mac just govfe the money to the whpres down the street becuase that is where it was invariably going but Zeke always found the feel of !omey in his hands to be a comforting one.
Rosie is my waifu
