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 Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 12:36 pm
 Doctor Records - Public Folder Full Name: Jacob Drage
Nickname: Jake
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: November 19th
Age: 17
Height: 6 feet
Weight: 155 pounds
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Dirty Blond
Former Occupation: High School Student
Sexuality Straight
Nationality: American
Appearance: Jacob has a tall and lanky build, and has several scars from his time in the wild. The only one he has from before is a scar along the outside of his left thigh from when he wiped out while dirt bike racing with friends several months before the outbreak. The others he has gained since. One is a scar on his right arm stretching from his elbow to the middle of his forearm from when he fell out of a tree he was climbing. Another is a small scar on his jaw from tripping while he was trying to outrun some walkers. The last one is personal, and happens to run along the left side of his ribcage. He refuses to talk about how he got that scar. Military Records - Private
Weaponry:
- Compound Crossbow
- Hunting knife
- Small handaxe
- Beretta 9 (empty, no bullets left)
Equipment:
- 2 canteens for water
- Several packages of MREs
- Two changes of clothes
- Crossbow care kit, half gone
- First aid kit, half gone with old strips of cloth for bandages
- Sleeping bag
- Camp set for cooking (includes two bowls, foldable frying and sauce pans, wooden spatula, and lid)
Biography:
I was the second son of Garret Drage, the child born from his second marriage. I have an older brother, Ritchie, who was born from his first marriage. We lived in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and I had a pretty alright childhood. Nothing major to report, really, other than the usual growing up stuff. My dad was a detective of the police department, and my mom was a computer programmer, so we weren't that bad off. I had several close friends that I would goof off with, and my dad took me and my brother out hunting a lot when we were growing up. Again, nothing too bad, just well, normal family stuff. It wasn't until I was fifteen and a sophmore in high school that things turned for the nasty.
I was at school, and for the past week, there had been more and more people coming down with something and not coming back to school. I didn't think too much of it, as I wasn't sick, but I noticed my classes getting smaller and smaller with each passing day. It wasn't until that following Monday that my dad pulled me and my brother out of school that I realized something major was going on. We had just gotten to the local university to pick up my brother from his dorm when one of his college buddies staggered toward us. I had never seen my father act so nervous in his life, and he told the guy to halt and stay away. To this day, I don't know what my dad saw that tipped him off, but the guy just kept coming with this shuffling gait. My dad then pulled his gun and ordered him to halt, all the while other university students were staring in confusion. The first shot should have killed him. I know that much from biology classes and hunting. The second shot should have done something as well. It wasn't until someone decided to try and intervene that the scene went from just some form of police brutality to horror movie material. The guy my dad shot just turned to the girl that was trying to protect him and, I swear I am not making this up, ripped her throat out with his teeth. While it was busy with eating her, my dad shot it in the head, killing it while students were panicking and running.
My brother had just gotten down to the parking lot when he saw what was going on, and his face was so white, I could see every freckle stand out in stark contrast to his skin. I probably didn't look much better, because I wanted to throw up. Sure, shooting and gutting a deer is one thing, but taking a human life? That was something I never thought I'd see, even if my dream was to go into the police force like my dad. My dad then ordered Ritchie into the car as he shot the girl in the head and turned to get into the car as well. He didn't say much, he just drove as fast as he could out of the campus and back home. Meanwhile I'm trying not to panic as I realize that the guy I looked up to as a hero had just taken not one, but two lives. I only found out later that those had not been the first he'd taken, as there had been numerous incidents the past week and weekend that he'd been involved in with these things.
So we drove back home as fast as my father would dare, him not even obeying the speed limit as he had his light and siren going on his car. When we got there, my mom just came out, told me and my brother to pack some things into something easy to carry, and started putting things into the trunk. By this point, the tv's on and there's something on the news about a shooting at the campus. It wasn't the first shooting either, as apparently we had just gotten out of there when a full-scale riot started and they were trying to evacuate people and shoot others. I just didn't understand it. Ritchie got this grim look on his face and said something about some guy in his dorm being admitted into the hospital and dying, only for him to get up when they were getting him ready for an autopsy and biting people. The only reason he even knew about this was because he was premed, and volunteered a bit at the hospital. We got our things together and went back to the car, my dad flat out telling us that we were taking a trip out to the cabin we own in the mountains.
It was a very silent car ride out there. I tried to ask what was going on, but my dad wouldn't answer. My mom was praying, and she looked like she was about to start crying. My brother's face was the most closed-off I had ever seen it, and it scared me. The entire thing scared me. It wasn't until we got to the cabin and told Ritchie that he needed to check around the cabin that I found out what was going on. The dead were rising. People who recently died were just coming back. And not in a good way. The guy at the university was just one of five others that my dad had to dispatch. If someone was bitten, they also died and came back. My brother confirmed this, as he had heard some stuff around the hospital he volunteered at, and that the people who had gotten sick recently with this bug going around died. Apparently the CDC was trying to investigate it, but dad said that it was safer to stay away from people until whatever was going on ended.
It didn't though. We had this old windup radio for emergency use that my dad listened to when we weren't making sure that we were safe that told us about what was going on out there. Apparently Chattanooga had been put on martial law, and then later quarantine. The military had been called in to keep the populace inside the city, and they had started shooting the walkers, what people started calling the walking dead. It wasn't long before the radio went silent, nothing but static filling every station my dad tried to listen to. My mom was a wreck. She spent a lot of time praying and trying to keep it together, but we could all tell she was cracking. She just kept smiling though whenever we looked, but I heard my dad a few times comforting her when they thought that I was asleep. Ritchie was the only one that didn't seem to be affected, and I worried about what that meant. I mean, he went through everything with a neutral expression, and I never saw him panic or break down. I don't know if he did it when we weren't looking or not, but it was weird because I figured he just didn't care about what had happened.
It wasn't long after my sixteenth birthday that everything fell apart. Apparently some walkers wandered in from one of the remote communities around where we were, and decided to assault the cabin. Heh, I say assault like they have minds. In any case, me and Ritchie were out cleaning one of the kills my dad had brought in when we saw them coming out of the trees. Ritchie told me to get back to the cabin and block the door, and I ran. Dad was just coming around the house when he saw me running, and immediately picked up the axe that was next to the door. Ritchie was already firing away with the rifle he had, and when I got to the door, my mom had a knife and was walking outside. She, I don't know, she cracked I think, because the next thing I know, she walked right into the walkers and was torn apart. Dad was screaming, Ritchie just kept firing, and I just sat in muted shock until dad was there, shaking my shoulder and pulling me inside. He made me sit down and started doing something around the cabin. It wasn't until Ritchie came back in a while later that I realized what was going on. Dad was packing everything he could into something portable, while my brother had gone to see what else was out there. It wasn't good. Apparently there were more walkers than we had bullets, and dad decided that the best thing to do was pack up and leave. I don't even know how long we ran for, but we had, and all the while Ritchie had this expression on his face that I'd never seen before.
We ended up forced to keep moving, never staying for long in one place. There were times we hid in caves, others we just climbed trees and slept there. One of those trees was where I fell and Ritchie had to stitch me up. I got better with my aim with my crossbow real fast, and dad, he just wasn't the same. He was paranoid. He still had his rifle and handgun, but he, like mom, was cracking. He started doing the same things that mom did, try and smile a lot and joke, but it was always forced. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I didn't feel like laughing or smiling, so I just let him keep on. We met up with another group of survivors, and we travelled with them for a while. We had our encounters with walkers, but nothing major until last fall, when we were ambushed in the middle of the night by a big group of walkers. Dad got piled by walkers, and me and Ritchie managed to get away enough that we lost them. We had managed to catch our breath when Dad finally found us, but he was in bad shape. He wasn't dead, not yet anyway, but he had one bite deep in his neck while one of his hands was missing three fingers. He just handed us his supplies, handed Ritchie his rifle, and me his handgun and told me he didn't want to become one of them, that I had to shoot him. Not Ritchie, me.
I freaked. I didn't want to do it. Ritchie had the same expression on his face that he did when we escaped the cabin, and had backed away. I realized what is was only later. It was terror. I kept on refusing to do it when my dad did something he'd never done. He attacked me. He had a knife out and tried to stab me in the side. I fired then, the last of the bullets in the handgun taking his life. Then Ritchie was pulling me away, telling me we had to keep moving. There were still walkers in the woods, and we couldn't do anything for him anymore. We kept moving after that, just me and Ritchie. We ran across people at times, but we never stuck around them like the last group. I was terrified that Ritchie was going to have to ask me to do what I had to do to dad. Everyone else I knew, everyone else I had ever encountered was gone. Then, just a week ago, me and Ritchie were ambushed by walkers. Ritchie and I were separated, and I haven't seen him since. I'm afraid he's gone like the others...
Relatives
Garret Drage, Father (Deceased) - Jacob idolized him, and tried to grow up to be just like him. When he had to shoot Garret, he lost whatever innocence he might have had left and is now trying to keep it together and survive like his father wanted him to.
Sarah Drage, Mother (Deceased) - Jacob loved his mother, but realized too late that she couldn't and didn't want to live in a world where they were struggling to survive. Her death shook him and he tries not to remember her last moments.
Ritchie Drage, Half-brother (Alive) - Older than Jacob by four years, he is currently the only living member of his family left. Jacob has clung to the hope that he would always be there, and that their current separation is only temporary.
Psychologists Records - Classified
Status: ALIVE
Personality: Jacob is generally a good kid, who wants to see the right thing done. As such, he doesn't take well to people who decide to use others or to those that hurt other people. He rarely got into trouble, and never became the kid that his father would have had to take down to the station. However, since the outbreak, he's become increasingly aware that he wasn't as capable as he would have liked dealing with the strains of survival. He's afraid that he'll end up like his mother and walk willingly to his death, but is just too cowardly to do it. Since his mother and father's deaths, he's afraid that he might be losing it, and there could be truth to that, as developed a bit of paranoia about the walkers and of those close to him. He hasn't had anyone close like his family has been over the last two years, and is both desperate for human contact and terrified that it would be the straw that broke the camel's back when they die around him.
Hobbies:
- Biking
- Hunting
- Playing the guitar
- Singing
- Swimming
Likes:
- Warm weather
- Hot food
- Relaxing
- Activity
- Being around people
Dislikes:
- Running
- The walkers
- Killing the living
- Being cold
- Being alone
Skills:
- Hunting
- Some survival skills related to recognizing edible plants
- Playing the guitar
- Good marksmanship due to a childhood of hunting and later, surviving
Weakness:
- Is a terrible singer
- Has recurring nightmares about his mother and father's deaths
- Outright refuses to harm the living
- Has become a bit unhinged since the start of it all
Fears:
- Losing his brother
- Losing his humanity
- Becoming a walker
Extras: Jacob has taken to nervous habits such as nail chewing, hair pulling, and fidgeting since his mother's death, and the habits have gotten worse since the incident with his father.
Themes: Hero - SkilletPlayed By: Diamond Wales
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Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 11:07 pm
 Doctor Records - Public Folder Full Name: Ritchie Drage
Nickname: Ritch, Red
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: March 9th
Age: 21
Height: 6 feet
Weight: 164 pounds
Eye Color: Grey
Hair Color: Red
Former Occupation: Premed student
Sexuality Straight
Nationality: American
Appearance: Ritchie is as tall as his younger brother, with a bit more muscle mass due to being an adult. He has an abundance of freckles, and has scars from his time out and about since the outbreak. He has a thin one along his right cheek from a branch smacking him in the face while running, barely missing his eye. He also has another one from a fight with another survivor over his father's rifle from a knife on his upper arm. Military Records - Private
Weaponry:
- Browning Semi-Auto Grade I Rifle (five rounds left)
- Splitting axe
- Hunting knife
- Compound bow
Equipment:
- Bow care kit (half-gone)
- 2 canteens of water
- Sleeping bag
- First aid kit (mostly empty)
- Three packages of jerky
- Aspirin and amoxicillin for medical needs (small supply)
- Extra sets of clothes
- Several journals and pens, filled with events that have happened since the outbreak
- Two books he scavenged to read
- Needles and thread
Biography:
I was the oldest son of Garret Drage and Megan Steele, his first wife. They got married when it was discovered she was pregnant with me, and my dad didn't want to leave my mom without any support. However, the marriage ended a year after I was born because of my mom's erratic behavior and her treatment of me. By the time I was one, I had had a broken arm, broken ribs, and a dislocated hip. My mom was court-ordered to go to classes for parenting, and she did, but when she had served her time and got off the probationary period of supervised visits, the abuse started again and my dad got the courts to take away her parental rights. I was five by that point, and I still have vague memories of what happened, but nothing concrete. By that point, my father had remarried and I had a younger brother. A lot of my childhood memories actually involve my real family, and while I knew I was the odd one out, I was never really excluded. I was always the one that kissed hurts away when Jacob got them, and my stepmom made the joke that when we got older, he'd probably be shot in the line of duty and I'd have to patch him back up.
It was ironic, because I did end up going to college to become an MD. I graduated from high school two years early and was the salutatorian for my class. During my time away in college, I met a girl, Elizabeth Meadows. We started dating around the end of my first year, and by the middle of my second year, I was trying to get up the courage to tell my family about her. I just kept on putting it off. Me and Peter, one of my best friends, were talking about getting an apartment together since I had just become legally allowed to rent a place, and I had just gotten a good volunteer position at Erlanger to get some hours in, and things seemed to be falling into place for me. I even went to visit my mom at the mental facilities to see how she was doing, and while she was glad to see me, she wasn't exactly herself, so I left to deal with my classes, homework, and everything else on my plate at the moment. I had no idea that was probably the last I would ever see of her, or a good many other people.
I was at Erlanger when the first case of something strange came up. A guy from my dorm came in with a really high fever and sweating, chills, basically everything I could name off for a flu. I was just a volunteer, which meant a lot of menial work, but I was in the room when he coded. I immediately started CPR and called the nurse, and when they came in, they took over. I backed out of the room, but stayed to watch. Twenty minutes later, they declared him and moved him to the morgue. That was my first time seeing someone die, but it wasn't going to be the last time. He wasn't the first case of this either, he was just the first one that passed away. I figured I would go and let his roommate know what had happened after my shift was up and went back to doing what I was doing. It wasn't until later I heard the rumor about the guy from my dorm coming back and biting people, and longer still before I realized what it really meant.
Over the course of the next few days, I just went about life as normal. I tried to keep away from the people that seemed to get the flu so I wouldn't catch it, but the more I looked, the more people seemed to be coming down with it. It wasn't until my dad called me to ask if there was something strange that I'd heard at the hospital that made me realize that something much more serious was going on. We talked, him discussing what he'd run into on the streets, and me talking about the hospital and the mysterious flu and the rumor. I think it was the rumor that did it for my father, since he told me that I needed to pack as much as I could and meet him in the parking lot outside of my dorm. I started packing, mostly shoving clothes and some odds and ends into a bag before I left my dorm. I had tried to call Elizabeth several times, and she finally picked up after about thirty minutes. I told her to grab some things for a couple of days and meet me in the parking lot. She asked me why, and I tried to explain that my dad was picking me up and that it was important. I had never heard her sound so interrogative before. Finally I caved, just asking if she can meet me in the parking lot so that she can find out what was going on before she packed. She agreed, and I hung up, already slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading down to meet with him.
When I got down tot he parking lot, my world just turned upside down. My dad was out of the car, holding a gun pointed at Peter. My best friend... He was eating Elizabeth. I watched in horror as my dad shot not just him, but her as well. He told me to get to the car, and I wanted to scream at him that he just shot my girlfriend, but I couldn't find my voice. I instead nodded and made my way to the car. Jacob looked green and was staring at the scene in horror. When dad got into the car, he pulled out and sped off. I didn't speak the entire time he drove, and I wanted to scream. However, I just sat in silence, trying to reason through what was going on in my head. I gave up after a while, realizing that I didn't have all the pieces I needed. People were getting sick, dad had been shooting homeless people that had attacked him while he was trying to do his job and ended up having to watch his partner die when he was bitten, and my girlfriend was eaten by my best friend. The odd rumor about the guy from my dorm doing the same flitted through my brain before I shook my head. No, that was just crazy. My friend probably had something slipped to him at a party and he wasn't in his right mind. But why did dad shoot Elizabeth?
When we got home, I went in to help pack things up and the news caught my eye. Sudden cold dread gripped me as I realized that I was watching a newsfeed about the hospital. People were evacuating it, and I could see others staggering out. The police had the hospital barricaded and I could see some of the people staggering out were being shot. I changed the channel and froze when I realized there was yet another news story about whatever was going on. A full-scale riot was going on down on campus, and I watched as there were police in riot gear shooting canisters of tear gas into the crowd and pulling people to safety. That was when I got my first good look at a walker. Okay, Peter was one, but this girl, she was just dead-looking. I swallowed hard as I saw her shot repeatedly and then was put down with a shot to the head, and it finally connected for me. My brother had come in at this point and was watching too, and looked at me like I had the answers. I explained about the hospital and the guy, but I don't think he understood, not yet. He nodded and left the room, and we packed quickly and got into the car.
The trip out to the cabin was quiet, and after my dad made us do a parameter check, he sat us down to explain the situation. My stepmom was crying, and Jacob looked like someone slapped him. I didn't blame him, the whole situation was screwed up. So our time at the cabin passed, a lot of days making sure we were safe, hunting for food, supplementing what we caught with what we came with, and overall waiting. The waiting was the worst part. I'd brought with me some of my college books to study from, but after a while I had to stop. I was just going over and over the same things. There was only so much orgo chemistry I could read, and I'm pretty sure I have proofs stuck in my head for the rest of my life. I then got a crazy idea stuck in my head to just start writing about what was going on. I filled at least ten pages with what had happened before, and then I just updated it every week. Trust me, no one wanted to read about just how many rabbits I shot in one day, or how many times we went to check the parameter. The weeks turned into months, and we were alone. Safe, but alone.
That safety didn't last. We were overrun by walkers one day, when Jacob and I were cleaning a kill that dad had brought back. I told Jacob to run for the cabin and I just grabbed up dad's rifle and started shooting. Then next thing I know, dad's screaming and my stepmom's walking into the group of walkers. She was instantly beset upon, and me and dad took that time to dispatch the walkers, only to discover that she'd been bitten repeatedly. Dad's face was something I didn't want to see again, and he moved to take care of her, but I told him that I would do it. He loved her, and I knew that doing that to her would destroy him. He just gave me this look like he knew what I was doing, but he relented, and I just picked up the axe and brought it down. I then did a quick sweep of the area and discovered that we had more problems than just losing her. Dad went to pack, while I worked out which way we would head. I buried what I had just done down deep, knowing that I would get a chance to mourn properly when we actually had a chance to return to normalcy. I reasoned that I didn't have time, and that my dad and brother weren't going to be thinking straight after what had just happened. I could deal with it.
We ended up moving an awful lot after that. We never stayed in one place, and partially I think that my dad was running from demons. Every once in a while, I would turn on the radio that we had to see if there was something on the emergency broadcast system and all I would get was static. Caves and trees became our homes, and we ended up joining with another group of survivors. It was when we were with them that we lost dad. A herd of walkers stumbled onto the camp and started going after everyone. I took down a few while grabbing what I could before me and Jacob fled into the night. A while later, dad found us, but he was too far gone. He argued with Jacob that he be the one to shoot him, and I would have stepped in but something in the way he was saying it stopped me. Jacob ended up doing the deed after dad tried to assault him, and I had to drag Jacob away after it looked like Jacob fell into shock. The fact he doesn't remember me telling him repeatedly that we had to go is proof enough. I managed to get us to a place safe enough to patch him up, and we were back on the move.
Occasionally we'd run into other survivors, but I never felt comfortable sticking around them. I was afraid that the more people in a group, the more likely that walkers were going to come after us. I'm pretty sure that Jacob had similar feelings, though he never voiced them. It was during a time we were alone that we got separated, however. Several walkers decided to try and come after us. Jacob took off one direction, and I took off another, trying to draw them after me and leave him alone. It worked, a bit too well if you ask me. I tripped and twisted my knee, and they decided to descend. The only reason I managed to avoid being bit was that I had an axe and managed to cleave one's head open before rolling out of the way. The other two were taken care of easily enough, but with my knee, I had a hard time trying to get back to where me and Jacob separated. Only thing I could think to do was splint it and make my way trying to find him.
Relatives
Garret Drage, Father (Deceased) - Ritchie had an odd relationship with his father. While he cared about him, there were many times growing up that he felt Garret could have stopped Megan's abusive streak and ensured Ritchie never remembered. Ritchie was left shaken up by his death if for no other reason that was his father, and despite what may have been between them, he did still care.
Sarah Drage, Stepmother (Deceased) - Ritchie cared for his stepmother, if for no other reason, she was the most stable mother figure in his life. Her death was hard, but Ritchie felt that it was better that he pull the trigger than his father or brother, as they had a connection to her that Ritchie would never have.
Megan Steele, Mother (Unknown) - Ritchie is ambivalent toward his mother. She abused him when he was younger and he went with his father during the divorce. She was last seen in a hospital being treated for her mental instability.
Jacob Drage, Half-brother (Alive) - Younger than Ritchie, he's his last living relative. He'd rather Jacob survive than let someone else he cares about succumb to the hordes of undead. He's just hoping that they can outlast the zombies before anything else can happen to break Jacob.
Psychologists Records - Classified
Status: ALIVE
Personality: Ritchie is calm and focused, a complete dichotomy to his inner mind, which is currently a mess of emotions and thoughts all jumbled together. He's usually quiet, and prefers to keep to himself and not impose on others. He's also particularly bright, having graduated from high school early and tends to be able to pick new things up with ease. He rarely smiles, and tends to not show emotion. This is however a mask, as he is current;y trying to put on a brave face for his younger brother when the world's gone to hell. He'd rather not voice his own thoughts that the world was dead and they were living on borrowed time. He'd made a promise, after all, to his dead father that he would help his brother survive to see the end of this, and wants to see the end with him. Whether or not this means they both die together is another thought he has, and refuses to voice. The only items that he has that reflect his true thoughts on anything happen to be the journals he's taken to writing in, and they themselves reflect a man who's desperate for everything to be over.
Hobbies:
- Reading
- Writing
- Baseball
- Bookbinding
- Hunting
Likes:
- Fall
- Quiet
- Being with friends
- Anything sweet
- Having something to do
Dislikes:
- Anything to do with the walkers
- Being crowded
- Feeling filthy
- Bad weather
- Being hot or cold
Skills:
- Has limited knowledge of medicine from school
- Singing
- Being stealthy
- Good marksmanship due to a childhood of hunting and later, surviving
Weakness:
- Is slightly antisocial
- Overprotective
- Has a tendency to bury his emotions
- Is socially awkward due to his antisocial behavior
Fears:
- Becoming a walker
- Jacob dying
- Claustriphobic
Extras: Ritchie twisted his knee while running from the walkers that he drew away from Jacob. It has yet to heal.
Themes:
Outside - Staind
Roads Untraveled - Linkin Park
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Posted: Mon Sep 07, 2015 2:20 pm
#C35817  ════════════════════════
|| Jᴀᴄᴏʙ Dʀᴀɢᴇ ||
|| 17 Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ || Sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀ ||
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It's just another war
Just another family torn
(Falling from my faith today)
Just a step from the edge
Just another day in the world we live
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[size=9][color=#C35817]Location:
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[size=9][align=right][color=#C35817]I[/color]t's just another war
[color=#C35817]J[/color]ust another family torn
([color=#C35817]F[/color]alling from my faith today)
[color=#C35817]J[/color]ust a step from the edge
[color=#C35817]J[/color]ust another day in the world we live[/align][/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]
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Posted: Mon Sep 07, 2015 9:30 pm
#151B54  ════════════════════════
|| Rɪᴛᴄʜɪᴇ Dʀᴀɢᴇ ||
|| 21 Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ || Fᴏʀᴍᴇʀ Pʀᴇᴍᴇᴅ ||
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Weep not for roads untraveled
Weep not for paths left alone
'Cause beyond every bend
Is a long blinding end
It's the worst kind of pain
I've known
[imgleft]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v190/charbonne/a0588102-cf97-4bc4-9ce3-bc32bda6819f.jpg[/imgleft][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][align=center][size=18]════════════════════════
|| [color=#151B54]R[/color]ɪᴛᴄʜɪᴇ [color=#151B54]D[/color]ʀᴀɢᴇ ||[/size]
[size=14]|| [color=#151B54]21[/color] Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ || [color=#151B54]F[/color]ᴏʀᴍᴇʀ [color=#151B54]P[/color]ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅ ||[/size]
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[size=9][align=right][color=#151B54]W[/color]eep not for roads untraveled
[color=#151B54]W[/color]eep not for paths left alone
[color=#151B54]'C[/color]ause beyond every bend
[color=#151B54]I[/color]s a long blinding end
[color=#151B54]I[/color]t's the worst kind of pain
[color=#151B54]I[/color]'ve known[/align][/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]
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Posted: Fri Sep 11, 2015 10:39 pm
 Doctor Records - Public Folder Full Name: Merle Dixon
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: April 16th
Age: 52
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 230
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Brown turning grey
Former Occupation: Military Worker, Drug Dealer
Sexuality Heterosexual
Nationality: American
Appearance: Merle is a stocky man of average height, and tends to have a good amount of muscle tone. He also has numerous scars, both from before the outbreak and after. He has numerous scars criss-crossing his back from his rather abusive father from growing up, as well as other minor ones from fights he has been in with others before the outbreak. After, he has numerous, including one that crosses the bridge of his nose. He has one major one from being shot by the Governor on his chest, and his most distinguishing mark is his missing right hand, which he sawed off himself when he was handcuffed to a roof. That particular arm now has a crude prosthetic in place to which he usually straps a knife to. Military Records - Private
Weaponry:
- M14 Semi-automatic assault rifle
- Bayonet (attached to his right arm)
- Desert Eagle Mark XIX, Semi-automatic, .44 Magnum
Equipment:
- Several clips for both the M14 and the Desert Eagle
- A canteen for water
- Several cans of food
- A backpack
- A flask for whiskey
- A Bible
- Binoculars
- A change of clothes
- A blanket
Biography:
I was raised in an abusive home alongside my brother, Daryl. Our mom was a drunk that chain-smoked. Our father was just an abusive a*****e that drank enough to drown someone, and more often than not tended to beat me and Daryl. I was often out of the house as a result, escaping by taking to the streets, and as a result, becoming pretty familiar with the inside of a holding cell due to getting in trouble with the law a lot. Our mom died when she fell asleep with a lit cigarette, burning our house down with her in it, and I decided to take on the task of raising Daryl myself. I taught him what I knew about the world, and how to survive in it. It ain't peaches and cream like some other pussies would think it to be, and I wanted to make sure Daryl understood it. When I got old enough, I decided to join the Army, thinking it'd be a great way to escape where I came from and become someone else.
Unfortunately, my temper and s**t got me dishonorably discharged when I punched some a*****e sergeant in the mouth. I spent some sixteen months in prison for that, and afterward, just fell into the profession of dealing and using drugs. Daryl tended to follow me around and help me out, and we were kings of our little portion of the world. At least it seemed that way. I had my way of getting money, Daryl did what needed to be done, and we were both fine.
Until the damn outbreak. Me and Daryl escaped to Atlanta, where we fell in with a group of survivors. We helped out, all the while planning on robbing the place blind. We needed the supplies, they were just dead weight. Until one fateful day up on a rooftop where I met Officer Friendly. Damn ******** handcuffed me to the roof and left me there, while they escaped. They had left a bag of tools up on the roof, and when I managed it, had grabbed a hacksaw from the bag. Trying to saw through the handcuffs was impossible, so I resorted to something drastic and cut off the hand the cuff was attached to. I made my escape, managing to get somewhere to try and cauterize the stump my right arm now had.
Delirious with pain, I escaped Atlanta, only to find myself nearly dead by the end of it. I was thinking about ending it all and waiting for Daryl on the other side when I was found by Phillip Blake, also known as the Governor. He saved me, and I started working for him, doing jobs for him and eventually becoming his right-hand man in Woodbury. It was while working for the Governor that I ran into Andrea, one of the survivors from Atlanta, and Michonne, a quiet woman that apparently had a damn good head on her shoulders for this life. Andrea revealed that my brother was still alive and that Officer Friendly had managed to help the group survive to get to a farm, until it was overrun and Andrea got separated from them.
When I found out about Daryl, I asked Andrea where the farm she was at was, and she told me. Unfortunately the Governor refused to let me leave to find him, and then Michonne had to leave. The Governor orders me and a group of guys to track down Michonne, where she kills several of them and I kill the rest. One was by accident when I was trying to aim for Michonne, but the other decided he couldn't take lying to the Governor about losing Michonne and I shot him for it. I tracked Michonne to an abandoned store in the Red Zone. I then ran into Glenn, another survivor from Atlanta, and his pretty little girlfriend. I grabbed them, realizing that they knew where Daryl was and planned to get the information from them when they refused to tell me. I then returned, informing the Governor about everything that happened, save that Michonne was dead and had killed everyone I was with.
I interrogated Chinatown as well as his girlfriend for a while, with the Governor's assistance. When they finally reveal where they're holed up, the Governor ordered for them to be taken to be executed. However, there was a raid, and the lovebirds were taken back by Officer Friendly and his group. However, not all of them happened to escape. The Governor decided to call a meeting, where he tried to calm everyone down, then proceeded to brand me a traitor while revealing that not everyone escaped. He then attempted to pit me against the man they captured, Daryl. We escaped with some help from Officer Friendly and another rescue team, and I eventually returned to the prison with Daryl. That was where I revealed to them that the best way to deal with the madman that was the Governor was just to kill him, but Rick wanted instead to negotiate. He went to talk, while I had the distinct pleasure of being reaquainted with the group from Atlanta, well, what was left of them. When Rick came back, there was talk about a war brewing, though I heard later from him that he asked for Michonne in exchange for peace.
I told Rick how he'd have to deliver her to him, especially since it looked like Rick was asking me to do his dirty work. Which, if Officer Friendly was so good, why he asked is beyond me. Either way, I figured if nothing else, it would give someone a prime opening for killing the b*****d. I told Michonne about this, after I had her trussed up and on our way to see the Governor. However, after a run in with walkers while trying to get a car, I had a change of heart, letting her go and deciding to give the Governor my own little present. I managed to crash his little meeting place for Rick with a car, and probably a dozen or so walkers right behind it following the music it was blasting. While he and his men were busy trying to kill walkers, I started taking shots at his men, until I had him in my sights. Unfortunately some a*****e got between me and the Governor, and then I was attacked by a walker. By the time I had gotten it of me, Governor b*****d had found me. He broke one of my arms, shot me, and left me for dead.
I woke up sometime later. Apparently someone had found me and decided to save my life. We just couldn't stick around in Walkerville. Damn b*****d wouldn't even let me do a damn thing, telling me I had been lucky to survive being shot. Anyway, that's how I met Conri, and ******** Irish wouldn't let me leave or anything. It took a while to heal up, considering he had to patch my chest up and set my damn arm. Would have considering chopping the damn thing off, but didn't considering that I'm pretty sure I would've died then. It was months before he let me use my arm, and by that time, s**t had calmed down at the prison when I went to check on what was going on. Too bad that didn't last. I'd gone off for a few days with Conri to help get some supplies, and when we get back, the prison was a wreck, a ******** tank was parked right in it, and I found the place overrun with walkers. I just raided what I could from the prison and went off tracking, figuring that it'd be better if I tried to find out what happened to Daryl, and whether I had to kill a certain ******** sheriff or not.
Relatives
Daryl Dixon - Brother (Alive)
Will Dixon - Father (Deceased)
(Unnamed) - Mother (Deceased)
Jess Collins - Half-Uncle (Deceased)
Psychologists Records - Classified
Status: ALIVE
Personality: Merle was originally a racist, trash-talking troublemaker who only wanted what was best for himself and Daryl, his brother. In that way, it makes him a survivor. However, despite what he may have shown to everyone when he first came across the group outside of Atlanta, his personality does a shift after he's rescued by the Governor. He has less of a racist view, but also has become much more cynical. He's not afraid to do what's necessary, and will often get his hands dirty if that means sparing others the task. He's also religious, as evidenced by the fact that he quoted the Bible to Hershel when the other started a verse, which also points out his intelligence. He's less violent than he used to be, though that immediately goes out the window the moment that his brother's in danger. He does have a sense of humor, even if it is on the crude side and does enjoy instigating trouble.
Hobbies:
- Hunting
- Fighting
- Reading
- Trash-talking
Likes:
- Picking fights
- Talking
- Nicknaming people
- Firearms
- Making sure he and his brother survive
Dislikes:
- Quiet
- Disrespect directed toward him
- Mostly everyone
- Weakness
- Being helpless
Skills:
- Expert hunter and tracker
- Expert in hand to hand
- Expert marksman
- Expert with his bayonet
Weakness:
- Former drug-addict
- Short temper
- No brain-to-mouth filter
- Tactless
Fears:
- Being abandoned
- Becoming a walker
- Losing his brother
- Becoming a patsy again
Extras: I will apologize for anything that comes out of his mouth in advance.
Themes: The Devil Takes Care of His Own - Band of SkullsPlayed By: Diamond Wales
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Posted: Sun Sep 20, 2015 11:34 pm
#778899  ════════════════════════
|| Mᴇʀʟᴇ Dɪxᴏɴ ||
|| 52 Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ || Fᴏʀᴍᴇʀ Pʀᴇᴍᴇᴅ ||
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Didn't you read it in the detail
That if you're idle then you will fail
Now you wanna know an answer
Well if you dance then you're a dancer
Didn't you read about it?
The devil takes care of his own
[imgleft]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v190/charbonne/a0588102-cf97-4bc4-9ce3-bc32bda6819f.jpg[/imgleft][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][align=center][size=18]════════════════════════
|| [color=#778899]R[/color]ɪᴛᴄʜɪᴇ [color=#778899]D[/color]ʀᴀɢᴇ ||[/size]
[size=14]|| [color=#778899]21[/color] Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ || [color=#778899]F[/color]ᴏʀᴍᴇʀ [color=#778899]P[/color]ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅ ||[/size]
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[size=9][align=right][color=#778899]W[/color]eep not for roads untraveled
[color=#778899]W[/color]eep not for paths left alone
[color=#778899]'C[/color]ause beyond every bend
[color=#778899]I[/color]s a long blinding end
[color=#778899]I[/color]t's the worst kind of pain
[color=#778899]I[/color]'ve known[/align][/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]
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Posted: Tue Apr 19, 2016 8:32 pm
 Doctor Records - Public Folder Full Name: Shane Walsh
Gender: Male
Age: Thirty-six
Height & Weight: 5'10" and 165 lbs
Former Occupation: King County Sheriff Deputy
Sexuality Heterosexual
Hometown: King County, Georgia
Primary Role: Leader
Secondary Role: Defender/Watch, Support, Hunter/Tracker
Notable Markings: None Military Records - Private
Weaponry:
Equipment:
- Necklace with the number 22
- Rope
- Extra ammo for the Mossberg and Glock
- Canteen for water
- Canned food for a few days
- Changes of clothes for a few days
- Eating utensils
- Gun cleaning kit
Biography:
Shane Walsh was born and raised in King County, Georgia. He played football in school, had good friends, and was a bit of a womanizer during his younger days. He was also best friends with Rick Grimes during high school, and alongside him joined the police force after college. The two of them eventually became deputies and were partners on the force. Shane never married, but didn't mind helping out the Grimes' family when they needed it. Shane was also a gun instructor for local youths, teaching them about gun safety and how to properly care for and shoot.
It was during an altercation with criminals when things changed for Shane. Rick was shot during the altercation, and slipped into a coma. Shane decided to help out Rick's family as best he could during that time. However, the outbreak occurred and Shane was left with little other choice but to try and help his best friend and his family out. However, things went horribly wrong when Shane went to try and grab Rick to take him from the hospital. Soldiers were shooting patients and faculty alike, and when Shane tried to move Rick, had found his best friend dead in his bed. He managed to avoid being shot by hiding under Rick's hospital bed when the soldiers came to check the room, but when they left, he started grieving for his lost friend. Grief however soon turned to horror as Rick seemed to rise from his bed. Shane was forced to take the reanimated Rick down, and then fled the hospital.
He took Lori and Carl with him to Atlanta, thinking that they could find shelter there. However, they were forced to abandon that idea when Atlanta was firebombed by the military to contain the outbreak. Since then, they have stayed with a group of survivors, Shane trying to ensure that the peace was maintained within the small group as it grew while he worried over the family that he now took responsibility for since his best friends' demise. Psychologists Records - Classified
Status: ALIVE
Personality: • Intelligent • Protective • Fearless • Intense • Survivalist • Cunning •
Likes:
- Women
- Teaching
- Kids
- Helping out
- Football
- Feeling useful
Dislikes:
- Criminals
- Racists
- Troublemakers
- Instability
- Facing the unknown
Fears:
- Not being able to take care of Lori or Carl
- Death
- Losing Lori or Carl
- Losing anyone else in the group
Extras:
- Shane has not told Lori or Carl what has happened to Rick officially, only that he died in a coma.
- Shane also realized that Rick was never bitten, leaving him confused as to why he turned.
- Shane has extreme guilt for letting Rick get shot and later dying.
- Shane's necklace reminds him of his time in football.
- Shane has experience with hunting and survival, and doesn't mind teaching other people about it.
Themes:
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Posted: Tue Apr 26, 2016 7:32 am
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|| Sʜᴀɴᴇ Wᴀʟsʜ ||
|| 36 Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ || Fᴏʀᴍᴇʀ Dᴇᴘᴜᴛʏ ||
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This is how it feels when you take your life back
This is how it feels when you finally fight back
When life pushes me I push harder
What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger
[imgleft]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v190/charbonne/ShaneFormat.jpg[/imgleft][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list]
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|| [color=#A40000]S[/color]ʜᴀɴᴇ [color=#A40000]W[/color]ᴀʟsʜ ||[/size]
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[size=9][align=right][color=#A40000]T[/color]his is how it feels when you take your life back
[color=#A40000]T[/color]his is how it feels when you finally fight back
[color=#A40000]W[/color]hen life pushes me I push harder
[color=#A40000]W[/color]hat doesn’t kill me makes me stronger[/align][/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]
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