[hider=Levi Pascale]

Age: 26

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 190 lbs

Weapons: Compound bow, sheath with 10 arrows

Appearance: Levi is slightly tanned and has striking hazel eyes. Once obsessed with his appearance, he still has the vestigial remains of a muscular body, though he isn't as large as he used to be. His hollow cheeks indicate a loss of weight in a fairly short time period. Levi's five o'clock shadow and short, scruffy black hair lend to a dishevelled appearance. His clothing often varies, depending on what he can scavenge, but he always wears a dirty, olive-coloured trench coat that is replete with pockets.

Personality: Levi tries to be cautious about his company, but he cannot repress his yearning to interact with others. He is constantly fighting with his desire to exist and his desire to live. The Golden Rule is his moral compass, but his strong sense of justice means that he can become violent if he finds you particularly brutal. He is not afraid to stand up for himself, though his perspicacity will always let him know when he's outmatched.

History: Born to upper class parents, the vast majority of Levi's life was easy. He did not take High School seriously, knowing that he had a confirmed job in his father's car rental business regardless of his grades. Unfortunately, his father changed his mind around Levi's junior year and began to crack down hard on his lazy and hedonistic lifestyle.

Levi managed to turn the tide of his abysmal grades around, eventually earning admission into the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where he embarked on a psychology degree. It was around this time where he, like most other young students entrenched in an eclectic atmosphere of learning, began to read into different political and economical systems. One which fascinated him was Marxism, and it was through Marxism that he learned of Leninism. The primary difference between the two, despite sharing many of the same ideas, was Karl Marx's belief that the fate of the working class was in their own hands. Lenin, on the other hand, advocated bourgeoise intelligentsia to act as their vanguard and lead the revolution.

Though Levi's opinions began to morph the longer he stayed at university, Leninism instilled in him a love for aiding the underdog. He knew that he came from a very privileged background and that his knowledge and familial wealth could be put to use in helping the most oppressed.

There was plenty to improve in America, but he became enamoured with the idea of leaving the United States behind in search of a country where his help would actually be valued. After dropping out of Lafayette, Levi embarked on a journey to Palestine, moved by what he construed as a racist and oppressive apartheid regime. 

It was extraordinarily difficult for him to stay there. The luxuries of Louisiana were ineffable in comparison. Levi was a jack of all trades, doing whatever the NGO that recruited him would tell him. He did not specialise in anything and had been involved in work ranging from protection, farming and even cooking. However, what he enjoyed the most was teaching. The children there did not seem to take anything for granted and were grateful for the smallest of comforts; they were a stark contrast compared to the man he had been for most of his life.

As the conflict began to escalate and Gaza crumbled under heavy aerial bombardment, Levi received news from America that shook him to his core: his mother had died. He did not want to leave his duties behind, but he had to be there for his father.

Once he returned to Louisiana, he found his mother alive and well. It had been a ploy to extricate him from the war-torn land where his parents feared that he would die. Incensed by their betrayal, Levi refused to stay in the family home and drifted until an old friend, now living in Texas, allowed him to stay over at his apartment.

Levi did not contact his parents for over a year. He worked in a local restaurant, as a waiter, and fell into a long period of ennui. He was free to return to Palestine, but now that he was back in America, back in safety, his insides turned to ice at the thought. He no longer had the fortitude and he hated his parents for it.

When the outbreak hit, Levi swallowed his pride and called them to see if they were OK. Spurred on by news stories of the horror approaching, Levi left for Lafayette.

When he returned to the home of his parents, he found their corpses in the living room. Rather than being ripped apart by the new monstrosities, they had been executed by bullets to the head. Judging by the bare state of the house, they had been murdered by looters.

Levi buried his parents in the back garden and sought refuge in the house he had grown up in, boarding up the windows and the doors. Upon searching the house for anything the looters didn't take, he found the basement untouched. There, complete with a handful of targets, was his father's compound bow and a large supply of arrows. At first, he practised merely because he was bored. Eventually, he decided that he would rather face the world out there than die alone in his childhood home. He lost most of the arrows taking potshots at walkers in the street from his bedroom, but he gained invaluable experience.

Becoming just competent enough to survive out there (or so he felt), Levi left the house and began his search for others who were still alive and, most importantly, had retained their humanity. [/hider]


[hider=Marcus Aurelius]

Age: 30

Height: 6'0”

Weight: 170 lbs

Weapons: Glock 17, Fire Iron

Appearance: Marcus is fairly tall and has a skinny frame. His greasy hair falls to his shoulders and a haunted shade of blue stares out from beneath the unkempt fringe that often sweeps over his forehead. His facial structure is almost skeletal with gaunt cheeks and a sharp jawline. In an odd juxtaposition to his bedraggled head, he wears a crisp and neatly arranged suit. An obsidian black ensemble with a white handkerchief daintily hanging out of the breastpocket, it represents Marcus' seizure of spoil. The old world would never have allowed him such an exquisite attire, but the new world essentially gifted it to him. 

Personality: Marcus is a capricious fellow, often alternating between amiability and wanton viciousness. Molded by a life harbouring many excruciating difficulties, he has found himself in possession of more power now than he did in the world before. He is a hedonist, eager to fulfill whichever desire takes his fancy.

History: Born in an extremely dysfunctional household, Marcus was rescued  by the Child Protective Services from abusive parents and placed in several foster homes, never quite fitting any of them. These years would be some of the worst of his life and crucial to his later development, especially when he was placed under the care of sexually abusive foster parents.

When he became old enough that the state stopped feeling a responsibility for him, Marcus was out on the streets. Lacking access to a conventional education, he read as many books as he could. One of the books that inspired him was called 'Meditations', written by the great Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Infatuated by his musings on Stoic philosophy and perceiving it to have a nihilistic tone, Marcus adopted the Emperor's name for himself, shedding behind the identity of the frightened young boy who had been a victim for so long.

Adopting an amoral view on life, Marcus began to work odd jobs for local criminal organisations, ranging from murder to corpse disposal. As long as it paid, he was more than happy to do it.

Eventually, he saved up enough money to rent an apartment in Chicago's notorious South Side. As a free agent, Marcus did not have to deal with repercussions of his work from rival gangs. Unfortunately, he was not immune to law enforcement.

Picked up for suspicion of murder, Marcus was held in Cook County Jail, awaiting his trial. In a rare stroke of luck, something he was most certainly not accustomed to, the outbreak hit. The prison was flung into chaos and the inmates were able to take control. Marcus slipped out of the prison and stepped into the new America; a land of infinite opportunity.

He sauntered over and broke into the gaudiest sports car he could find while chaos and carnage ran amok in the street, cackling as the worries of ever being punished for a crime evaporated.

Marcus managed to get all the way to Arkansas before having to abandon the car. A group of men took him in, men who cared only about surviving. Nobody asked Marcus what he had been in his past life. He was good with a gun and wasn't scared of the walkers. That was all the knowledge they needed.

At least, that was all they needed for the timebeing. As they became closer, Marcus' eccentric behaviour began to worry them until he was exiled for keeping a decapitated walker head in his motel room. He thought it was harmless fun, a prop to recite Hamlet's 'Alas, poor Yorick!' speech to, but the others found it more macabre than anything. Fearing he would end up hurting them, Marcus was given supplies and a vehicle and told to leave.

Surprisingly, he left without killing anyone, as he had already grown bored of the men and was quite happy to find that he would not have to murder them for supplies. The vehicle broke down after passing the state boundary and now Marcus roams the streets of Louisiana, searching for pleasure.[/hider]