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 Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 9:34 am
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Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 10:25 am
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✕SEE ME BREATHING?►►►►
° ✘ What is in a name? ►► Lenne Adair
° ✘ Hard to tell the time... ►► Twenty-seven
° ✘ Who I used to be... ►► Jack of all trades. Lenne moved from job to job, never satisfied. She could have been called a nomad.
° ✘ Far from home ►► Oklahoma
° ✘ As far as you know, I'm ►► The Survivalist
✕I AM STILL ALIVE►►►►
° ✘ Knowledge is power ►► Survival -- Most of her time was spent in the great outdoors, living amongst the wild in a tent, or out on the open road. She'll do anything to survive and has the means to do so. She's read every survival manual she could get her hands on before the zombie apocalypse. She can scavenge food, hunt, make weapons and tools, fix a broken leg, take down another man, take apart and fix a gun, build a shelter. She's very primitive and would do anything to survive, even eat another person.
Body -- Because she's fended for herself most of her life, she's got a strong upper body, with broad shoulders, and has no problem in a fight. She's five foot nine with legs up to here, and those strong, long legs help her lift her own body weight.
° ✘ In my head ►►
She is generous, secretly caring and protective of others, and a downright pushover half of the time, but Lenne covers this all up with a rough, bad girl exterior. Despite how loudly she can roar with pride, her ego is delicate and fragile, which is another reason why she covers up her real emotions with resentment and bitterness. Being out in nature is her true calling and spending the night outdoors can usually calm her down when she gets too riled up, which is often, especially when she drinks and starts suckering in people for fights, even if she's not the one fighting. She loved to hang out in biker bars and drink it up with the guys there, who all just seem to love her, but she always wound up making out with the women, which was how she came to the conclusion that she was bisexual. She still loves to drink heavily and crawl in to bed with any woman that will have her, but she's usually gone by morning.
° ✘ How have I lived this long... ►► She came from the middle of the country, from a Cherokee Nation, but found she was the type that couldn't stay in one place for very long. The same went for her mother. She had wandered around too much and instead of marrying another Native wound up marrying a man of European descent. This meant that Wilisa was only half, a mix. She was never very close to her mother, and couldn't remember her father, since he left when she was four. Her grandmother raised her back in the nation, leaving her immature mother to wander around with whatever men she liked, though she did send Wilisa money every few weeks to live on. For all she knew, Wilisa could have had siblings, but she didn't care. Rambunctious at a young age, she always got into trouble and couldn't get along with anyone. The same could be said for her as she got older, only she didn't get into any trouble.
A year after finishing High School she went off. Anywhere she felt like. She had the tendency to wander and had never really settled at all. She drove around different towns and states trying to find a nice, small town she liked, but she would only ever stay in one place for a few months before uprooting and relocating. She finally found a reason to settle back home - she met a man. He was a soldier, about to be shipped off overseas to fight the war. They fell in love and for once she felt stable and safe. At least, until he started talking about the apocalypse and how the government had been lying to every one, even themselves. He was killed.
Of course, for her nothing truly lasts forever. The loss killed off any compassion she had left for humanity and she went into hiding at a lake, deep in the woods, where no one could find her. She only ever ventured out to purchase things she needed, such as clothes or other camping supplies. The insurance from her dead husband's 'accident' had reassured her living situation for a good few years, so she used the money to stock up. When it all went down she was by herself with her supplies, bunkered down at the lake. Now she is just trying to get through the day to day slaughter...er...hassle.
° ✘ My tools of living ►► Gerber Machete - It's one pound and 25 inches long, and has an integrated saw on the back.
MP5 Submachine gun with a sliding stock - fires 800 rounds per minute.
° ✘ I walk to a beat ►► Porn Star Dancing - by My Darkest Days
° ● There is no higher power... » Werewolf Liquor
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Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 4:26 pm
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✕SEE ME BREATHING?►►►►
° ✘ What is in a name? ►► Rae Isaaqs Normandy
° ✘ Hard to tell the time... ►► 24
° ✘ Who I used to be... ►► Rae 'Roadster' Normandy took over her father's business after he passed away from a faulty drag race that engulfed his entire car in flames. Her main love was motorcycles, and her goal each day was to get as greasy and as filthy as she possibly could while tinkering with her greatest loves, engines and wheels. She considers her spouse to be an old, electric blue Ducati her father had built for her as a present for her sixteenth birthday.
With her mother running off to get lost in the city of dreams and leaving her to care for her four younger siblings, she considers herself an orphan and speaks very lowly about her mother if anything at all. She sustained a life working at her father's business, a small tune-up shop on the outskirts of the desert, which contrarily got a good amount of business because of her irreplaceable skill and extensive knowledge of vehicles and motors. She raised all her younger siblings until the youngest finally left and decided to take her life on the road and leave her old life behind.
° ✘ Far from home ►► Nevada
° ✘ As far as you know, I'm ►► The Mechanic
✕I AM STILL ALIVE►►►►
° ✘ Knowledge is power ►► Tinkering -- Ever since she was a toddler Rae has had a fascination with gadgets and combustible engines. It was until she started hanging around her father at his work that she grew a deep love for playing with engines and vehicle parts. Give her a wrench and a frame and a welding gun and she could build anything that could run.
Hospitality(childcare) -- Raising four younger siblings taught her a great sense of responsibility, as she was the only one they had to turn to for all their life's problems. She grew a great tolerance for childish antics and immaturity along the way, and learned that no matter what family sticks together.
° ✘ In my head ►► Socially -- Upon meeting her, Rae can seem socially awkward, almost taciturn. She warms up quickly to people she tends to be around for a while, and sometimes forces herself to be friendly and open but really is more reserved. She has a strong sense of responsibility and honor, and once she reaches a good comfort zone around people, she can be a bit arrogant and show off.
Romantically -- She has a tendency to grow a big head when trying to impress someone, but it all boils down to a playful and goofy overall personality. She'll put on a brave face and fight for the one she loves without thinking twice. Not only can she talk the talk but also walk the walk, sporting rather chiseled arms and a washboard stomach. She can be a romantic lover, but a sadistic freak also lurks underneath those innocent blue eyes.
° ✘ How have I lived this long... ►► When Rae realized what had happened, she jumped from town to town gathering parts to build solar-powered vehicles and returned to her desert home. Her small bit of luck gained her some close calls, but the group of survivors she'd found weren't so lucky. After falling in love and then losing the love of her life in a raid of the undead, she turned a cold shoulder to the world and closed herself away.
Now regaining her traveling bug, she jumps from town to town, secretly hoping for more survivors with a small yearning to satisfy a call for help and save someone to make up for her mistakes with her last posse. She took up smoking as a way to try and erase her memories and help deal with her new reality.
° ✘ My tools of living ►► A bag of assorted tools, a Colt .45, and a standard issue hunting knife.
° ✘ I walk to a beat ►► Arctic Monkeys -- Cigarette Smoke
° ● There is no higher power... » I Project A I i c e I
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Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2011 6:56 pm
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✕SEE ME ?►►►►
° ✘ What is in a name? ►► [Anya Volkova]
° ✘ Hard to tell the time... ►► [Twenty-Three]
° ✘ Who I used to be... ►► [Junk-yard owner and inventory person- Kept track of all items going in and out of her junkyard. Allowed her to be able to classify different items and their uses. This enabled her to easily place things together, put prices on them, restore and make bigger and better things.]
° ✘ Far from home ►► [Seattle, Washington]
° ✘ As far as you know, I'm ►► [The Scavenger]
✕I AM STILL ALIVE►►►►
° ✘ Knowledge is power ►► [Charisma- Talk is cheap, unless you know the perfect tone and wording. Anya, does. She knows how to lay out a price and make it sound like you're getting a deal. She also knows how to swindle, get what she needs that you have. But her silver tongue can buy more than just a few measly items, affection and lust follow easily with her swift choice of words. Be it for a place to stay, the items she needs, an escort elsewhere, or just a girl to spend a night with her ability is near uncanny. Though, her words have gotten a few swift slaps across her cheeks, it's not always 100% effective, but worth a try.
Repair- You don't find treasures without a bit of dirt and hardwork. even then, you need a few tools of the trade, and most are long gone. She repairs a lot of her own tools, combining them with others for improved effectiveness. Be it a weapon, an addition to her cargo, or to her outfits, she knows how to keep up with the ever changing needs of herself and her wasteland customers. Customized orders don't just appear in sealed boxes like they do in the video games. They require a bit of skill and flair. Her ability with a set of tools is the only thing that has kept the roving girl alive for so long.
Urban foraging- When items are scarce, she can still find something to use, sell, barter, perhaps not the greatest delicacies, but enough to keep one alive. She has a knack for it and a keen eye for things a person might just pass as garbage. It would amaze a person how something like a mere bolt, few yards of rope, or even a bit of metal tubing would go for to the right seller. People are always looking for reinforcement to their compounds, casings to refill for ammo, anything to keep their bit of a world together. Food isn't her strength, what she usually finds she tends to keep for herself seeing as it's the most scare, but valuable, besides a weapon or two. But to the right buyer the sky is the limit for what she can find.]
° ✘ In my head ►► [Anya is a rather happy go lucky girl. She has a bit of a silver tongue, and a wit to match a slightly dry humor, but she really knows how to get a group laughing. She always tries to find a bit of a lighter side to anything. Be it free parking because of the wide-spread infection rate, or the fact it's not illegal to pilfer a nice stereo from a car anymore. Though a bit soft on the outside she can be rather cold hearted when it comes down to it. Her time in the wastes has taught her that sympathy is a rather expensive commodity. She has her price for everything, and is hard to swindle or even bargain with. But those who know her know a few tricks to her trade and how to get what they need for a few simple tasks. Anya is also quite good with the ladies. She's a romantic when she wants to be, but a never ending flirt, even when it's very uncalled for. Boys tend to want to be around her, if only to pick up the trail of broken hearts she leaves when her travels call her elsewhere. ]
° ✘ How have I lived this long... ►► [Anya learned the meaning of tough love from the day she was born. Being poor and an only child to a drunken abusive father and mute mother left her with little but hope. Though she was, undoubtedly, the apple of her father's glazed eye her mother loathed her from the moment she was born. Blaming her for everything, the drinking, the fighting, the snow. Anya always kept hope. Her father would stop, her mother would stop, it would be ok. She developed a sense of humor when most would simply turn for the worst at such a young age. Her family immigrated to America after her father was laid off from his steel working job is Russia. Friends were hard to come by, and trips to the principal's office for acting out were a more common occurrence. Her constant outbursts for attention took up most of her schooling. And though she was, truly, a bright student, her studies never showed it. Her days were spent on the playground, searching, hoarding little items the other children would drop, collecting everything she though valuable.
During her few years in high school she was a renowned party girl and a pusher for anything the other kids wanted. Scavenging was in her blood, and the addiction for it all was made worse when her father purchased a junk yard. She worked every day after school beside him. Though, admittedly, she knew far more about it than even he did and did far more business than he ever would. But in her junior year the world began to fall apart when her mother succumbed to her own addictions. A heavy dose of drugs and cheap vodka sent the woman packing into the arms of Jesus. It struck Anya's father worse than anything. Though the woman had been a cruel witch who, probably, deserved most of the beatings they shared in their fights, she was still his wife. It drove him to the edge and into a never ending drunken stupor. The work was left to Anya, and as the days dragged on the balancing act of school, life, and home became too much. In the middle of her senior year she dropped out, staying home and committing to her never ending fascination to the junk piles.
Her father was one of the first to succumb to the infection. Spending his final hours wasting away in his easy chair in the back of the shop. She found him, keeled over, frothing from the mouth, eyes pure white. It was messy, the attack, the body hard to put away. But it gave her time. Before the rest of the world crumbled into oblivion she built up her home. The metal siding from cars surrounding the junk shop, a near perfect fortress. She waded out the storm by herself, tucked away in her junkyard, building and pulling together everything for the time when the world died down and she could move. Packing everything she needed into a back, a vest, and a shopping cart she set out into the world. She does head home occasionally, her stronghold hidden in the outskirts of Seattle. But the world and all it's bountiful harvest became her's for the taking. and the suckers and needy of the wastes became her's to control the supply lines to.]
° ✘ My tools of living ►► [-Stainless steel multitool
-2 titanium crowbars
-Handmade trench knife
-Folding black, steel shovel
-2 handmade grappling hooks
-Tire iron]
° ✘ I walk to a beat ►► [Rag & Bone ~ The White Stripes]
° ● There is no higher power... » [Vicious Bollocks]
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Posted: Sat Feb 19, 2011 6:47 pm
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Posted: Mon Feb 21, 2011 10:07 pm
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Posted: Sat Feb 26, 2011 4:17 pm
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✕SEE ME BREATHING?►►►►
° ✘ What is in a name? ►► Kayta Mirror
° ✘ Hard to tell the time... ►► Eighteen years old
° ✘ Who I used to be... ►► As a High School dropout, Kayta’s intelligence wasn’t compatible with public school academics. She frequently practiced archery and had a secret love for dance, disguising it as martial arts and parkour. She lived in a small apartment with her girlfriend where rent was covered by “favors” to the landlord, minimum wage at a hotel diner and a franchise pet store; with the occasional side business of selling stolen goods.
° ✘ Far from home ►► Southern Washington
° ✘ As far as you know, I'm ►► The Runner
✕I AM STILL ALIVE►►►►
° ✘ Knowledge is power ►► Agility – Kayta is an applied Parkour protégé. Unlike the other free runners around, her skills as the Tarzan of the urban jungle evolved from running from the cops and getting across town, without a bus pass, in less than thirty minutes. She is quick, flexible, strong, and always sees three steps ahead. She has scaled ten-story buildings using three-inch windowsills and two protein bars in the morning. Almost no one, living or undead, can catch her if she doesn’t want them too. (And sometimes she does.)
Endurance -- Working two jobs 15 hours a day proved beneficial to Kayta. Serving steaks, milkshakes, crickets, and cat food all in one night pushed her skills in memory, consistency, and stamina well above average. She can run, climb, and jump for hours at a time, and recall the addresses of the last six buildings she scaled, broke in to, and looted.
Dexterity – Kayta’s nimble fingers make her a skilled hacker and lockpick. She can type 110 words per minute, and open a standard deadbolt door in about fifteen seconds. She is ambidextrous, and can competently forge a signature. She has a habit of tying knots in intricate ways.
° ✘ In my head ►► Kayta is naturally manipulative. She analyzes a person or situation and acts accordingly to get what she wants. To some she’s a hard-hearted, emotionless b***h who can’t make connections, and to others she’s a nurturing guardian who will put herself on the line for another’s safety. Under her mask, Kayta is protective and a good judge of character. She really will risk her life for another, if she deems the person worthy. Her true side shines most when around animals, particularly her dog, Orion. Her self-described weakness is her cigarette habit, though she also has been known to down a drink in record time.
° ✘ How have I lived this long... ►► Kayta was born into a middle class family in southern California, where for 14 years she lived a very happy life with her mother, father, and blind younger brother, Derek. This changed at the age of 15 when social services split up the family due to her father’s checkered past. Kayta and Derek were placed in foster care for nearly a year before being allowed to move back in with their mother. During this time, Kayta strengthened her relationship with Derek, and forged a new relationship with her roommate, Anita. After the two were caught fooling around in their room by their group home guardian, Kayta and Derek were sent back to their old home. The family of three, four including Derek’s seeing eye dog, relocated to the Oregon/Washington border along the Columbia River.
There, Kayta took up an interest in Parkour, deciding to physically run from her problems. She’s been running ever since. In high school, Kayta was reunited with Anita, who had become an emancipated minor since their days in foster care. She convinced Kayta to drop out and move in with her. She became estranged from her family, breaking off all contact except with Derek. To pay the rent, Anita and Kayta had to work two jobs and occasionally sell their bodies to their perverted landlord. At the age of 17, when the virus began to spread, Anita and Kayta agreed that separating would better their chances for survival. She has no idea if Anita is still alive.
The worst of her losses due to the infection was Derek. A blind teenager would never survive, Kayta knew this. But witnessing the painful transformation herself was a devastating blow. Kayta was forced to shoot and kill her own brother. Taking his dog, Orion, as a memory of her old life, she began to run for survival. She is now heading east, currently somewhere in Idaho, with her sights set on Manhattan. With the bridges to the mainland destroyed, she believes the isolated island would be a haven. Whether or not her theory is true, is yet to be revealed.
° ✘ My tools of living ►►
Serrated Hunting Knife with Built-in Lighter
Switchblade with Inner-Thigh Holster
Lockpick Jackknife
Laptop Computer- Customized with solar cells on back panel, connected directly to battery reserves
Orion
° ✘ I walk to a beat ►► [Paramore – Born For This]
° ● There is no higher power... » Skrapz
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 3:10 pm
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✕SEE ME BREATHING?►►►►
° ✘ What is in a name? ►► Ophelia Lockheart
° ✘ Hard to tell the time... ►► twenty two
° ✘ Who I used to be... ►► Ophelia used to be an arms and munitions expert, which would explain why she's such a good sharp shooter. She had her own shooting range and would educate newcomers into the army on guns and ammunition. She really knows her stuff.
° ✘ Far from home ►► Northern California.
° ✘ As far as you know, I'm ►► The Sharp Shooter
✕I AM STILL ALIVE►►►►
° ✘ Knowledge is power ►► --Shooting, of course. How do you think she got the title? Ophelia had always been interested in guns, explosives, knives, and such. But especially guns. Way back when she was a little kid, her father would take her big brothers shooting, leaving her home with her mother to do house work and to start dinner. She hated this. One day when her father was about to leave to go shooting, she had thrown a fit, cussing him out using words a sailor wouldn't dare to use- telling him that she wouldn't become his miniature ******** housewife. He took her shooting that day; and every shooting day after that, because he realized that she was a better shooter than her brothers.
--Cursing. She sure can cuss up a storm when she wishes, she learned it from hearing her parents argue and from the summer she spent out on the sea for an internship on a boat with a ton of foul mouthed sailors. She can out cuss nearly anyone, she gets quite the kick out of it.
--Playing guitar. Ophelia barely remembers whens he started, because it's been like a second nature to her throughout her life. She had first picked up a guitar at about five, and for many of her teenage years picked it up every day and didn't put it down for hours. She still keeps her National Western D Round Neck Resonator Guitar around at all times, even in this situation. Hell in this situation, playing even a few chords makes things seem a bit less bleak. She stands tall with a guitar strapped to her back, her Katina going the other way, a gun in her belt, and a shotgun in her hands.
° ✘ In my head ►► Well Ophelia can be promiscuous at times; because it seemed to her that every time she focused on one person, she'd get her heart broken. Heartbreak made Ophelia weak and she didn't like that. So she decides to play with people's emotions instead of letting it fly vice versa. She's flirty and very well known for one night stands, she gets what she wants and splits usually, but is there someone who could break the cycle? Granted she does have a heart underneath all her armor (literally as well as symbolically) she just doesn't show it, it's better that way. She considers herself very blunt, very upfront, not scared to state her opinion. But Ophelia has two sides. Her other side is very conservative and not nearly as flirty. Unlike her other side, she doesn't like being called Phee (or Phee Phee) only Ophelia and if you don't call her by that, your very likely to get shot in the foot. Thankfully, she is usually in her flirty, fun side more often, though either way if you piss her off or seem like a threat, your done for.
° ✘ How have I lived this long... ►► She had a pretty normal life, just like everyone else. Like everyone else, her parents fought, like everyone else she didn't always get along with her siblings. Her father used to hit her mother... Is that as common in family's as Ophelia thinks? He used to hit her too, being the sexist b*****d he was. Ophelia grew an attitude over the years. The day she demanded to be taken with her father to shoot, was when things changed. Her father had more faith in her and stopped hitting her. And when he tried to hit her mother, she'd pull out her rifle and tell him to back off. Guns became her so called, security blanket. She felt safe when she had her guns around, protected.
But onto a later setting in her life, right before the infection had started to spread Ophelia had been working, forming boys into men, into requites of the navy. Too bad many of them had got infected and reanimated, and too bad she had to kill them off herself.This was how she found out about the virus. Shortly after, Ophelia fled away hiding from the virus, she was scared, considering the fact that she heard it was only getting worse, it was spreading. She lived off the land the best she knew how to in the mountains for many months that turned into a couple years. Descending the mountains, she saw nothing but a desolate, abandoned city, and she knew that this wasn't the only abandoned city.
° ✘ My tools of living ►► colt 45 pistol, snubbed stock Winchester shotgun, and a cool sword featured above.
° ✘ I walk to a beat ►► Situations by Escape The Fate.
° ● There is no higher power... » naughty pillows
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