[hider=Ulysses Voigt]
Name:
Ulysses Voigt

Age:
24

Gender:
Male

Nomadic or sedentary:
Nomadic

Weapons:
A hatchet, a bow with a quiver holding twelve arrows. The hatchet is old, but very well maintained, no visible signs of rust, the steel head attached to an oak handle. The bow itself is made from oak with a string made of deer sinew. He has three remaining strings. The arrows are also made of oak with obsidian and stone arrowheads. He keeps on him a jar of snake venom that he will dip his arrows in, should he feel the need to add a bit more of a punch to his arrows. In addition, he has a hook and rope, as well as rags and a jar of lamp oil should he need to scale anything or start a fire from a distance.

Skills:
Ulysses has been hunting since he was a small boy. He's practically grown up in the wilderness surrounded by the ever evolving creatures. He knows the wilderness like the back of his hand and knows the animals just as well. He's a skilled tracker and navigator, capable of watching for the small details while keeping his sense of space. He's physically fit and a skilled marksman after his years of practice. Ulysses also has years of practice working leather, tanning hides, sewing fabric, preparing food, and has a solid understanding of basic medical needs.

Any unusual traits?
Ulysses has two sets of eyelids, the second set being clear and close to his eyes like that of an alligator, giving him the ability to see more clearly underwater, while protecting is eyes. His body can also become airtight, a palatal valve in the back of his throat enabling him to hold his breath for anywhere from ten to twenty minutes (in cold conditions or if at rest, he can stay up to eight hours completely still, staying in an almost comatose state to conserve energy).

Appearance:
[img=http://i62.tinypic.com/350tkdh.png]

Brief Personality:
Ulysses is, to put it delicately, uncultured. In his entire life, he's encountered no more than two dozen people, four of which have tried to kill him. Trust does not come easy with him, though the loneliness that has been growing on him over the past few years have begun to lower his standards drastically. He has a bad habit of acting on impulse, having become a creature of instinct over his lifetime. He's unsure of the future and rarely thinks of it, being very interested in the now, rather than the past or future.

Background:
Ulysses was the youngest of his family, being born three years after his sister Jessabelle, and six years after his brother Cassius. As the youngest, he was given the most freedoms by his parents, with them having already had to raise two others before him, but was also given the most knowledge by his brother and sister. They were a small family that lived in a shack ten minutes from one of the many bayous Louisiana has to offer. His pop and brother hunted gators, his ma and sis fashioned clothing and whatever would come to mind out of gator hide and would cook the meat. They were a small, hick family in the middle of bumfuck, LA. Ulysses learned how to sew, cook, and take care of hides from his sister and mother while he was young, and learned how to hunt from his father and brother when he was considered a man by his old man at the ripe age of eight. The bombs dropped when Ulysses was four, but it had little effect on his family for quite some time. They had no neighbors and lived far from any populated area. Life was mostly the same, the only difference was the rare scavenger looking for goods. Pop was the kinda man to shoot on sight and while that kind of mentality scared the everloving hell outta Ulysses, he knew well enough not to complain about it. 

As the years droned on, so did his family. It wasn't until the gators were beginning to evolve that his family first really experienced what the new world had to offer. Turns out the bayou had become a tad irradiated, as had the gators, as had their main source of food. His father died to a mutated gator twice the size of their boat, when it leaped up, bit down, and dropped back into the water with his dad deep in it's gullet. His mother didn't take too well to the irradiated food and keeled over two years after her husband, around Ulysses's twelfth year of life. Cassius shared a similar fate with his father and one day after a long hunting trip, Ulysses returned to find his burnt to the ground with no sine of Jessabelle. All Ulysses had to his name at that point was what he brought with him and his father's tool box, that hadn't moved from the yard since the day he died. Ulysses knew it was time to start heading elsewhere, since nothing much was left here. He hacked away at the rusted shut toolbox with his hatchet, breaking off the lock and fished around, looking for anything useful. In a ziploc bag at the bottom was a book, a tad aged but in decent enough condition. The title, when he clumsily read it aloud sounded similar enough to his name and on a whim decided it was probably meant for him.

Now Ulysses travels north, hunting game and searching for anyone living, ideally the type of person not inclined to kill him that is.

Alone or with someone?:
Alone.

Other:
Ulysses can't read and is easily embarrassed by that.[/hider]