Not quite done yet, but tell me what you think of these so far, especially if I need to make any edits before I finish the final sheet.

[hider=Anthony 'Tony' Vanos]

If you’ve found this, I’m either dead, drunk, lost my journal, or just don’t give a fuck. Hell, I could be all four.

The world’s full of shitty people, and its no place for old dogs like me anymore. Traces of the old life are disappearing left and right and the chance of being reminded of my family is growing smaller and smaller everyday, just like most of our humanity. I’ve gotten this far on sheer luck and wisdom, whatever the hell that is, alone. Where are my manners, here I was talking about the old days and I forgot something that I hope never fades- manners. I’m Anthony Vanos, born and raised in Skagway, Alaska.

I’m a big man, some of my friends used to call me bear hugger. Six foot something and a little over two hundred pounds. I forget how much, being fifty-three has hit my memory hardest. Some people said I looked like a jolly man back in the day, smile on his face with lumberjack getup and big red nose and the busy brown beard of a man with a warm heart, or was it a stomach full of warm beer? Hell if I care. Shaved my beard a few years ago after a close call, It wasn’t hard to keep my hair short. I’m starting to lose it anyways. I look every day of every year of my age, and if it weren’t for the ski mask and tinted goggles you’d probably see an old man with a pinched up angry face. I aint angry all the time, I swear, the cold froze my face that way several years ago.

Growing up in Alaska made me a tough motherfucker, probably another reason why I made it this far. Make me smart too; I knew when to move out of Alaska and through Canada. Doing it in winter or fall would’ve been suicide. It taught me how to be prepared. Underneath my heavy duty winter coat is a set of Ski armor. It’s not going to hold walkers back forever, but it and the coat together will at least buy me a few seconds to think. Something that’s saved my sorry old ass a few times now. Now that’s it’s spring I’ve adopted a slightly lighter coat, and ditched my ski mask and goggles for the time being in favor of some sunglasses. My shoes are like cleated hiking boots, and I use them for how they’re meant to be used. I got a backpack with some food and a few thermoses with water in it. I got myself some plastic cooking gear and fire-starting materials like matched, flint and lighters that I had before everything went to shit. Rope and some painkillers I’ve collected are in there as well. I wouldn’t take them all at once. I have no idea what some of them do. My watch functions as a compass. I’ve got sunscreen that I grabbed for some reason, and a give ass medical kit that I’ve scratched together. I used to go hunting a lot with my son back in the day, I have an old hunting rifle with a scope, and a Glock 17 strapped to my hip. I only have a few rounds left of that thing. My main weapon choices are my woodcutter’s axe and hatchet, which is normally carried in on of my hands at all times. I also have an emergency hatchet on my other hip. I used to have a sleeping bag, but I ditched that when I saw some poor kid get torn apart in his sleep for sleeping on the ground. Most of the time you cant tell what I look like due to how much [url=http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/160/5/3/zombie_survivor_by_hoborgian-d52tcox.jpg]stuff[/url] I have on. Because I have so much I tend to stick in the colder states. I’ll be the one in the snowstorms scavenging when no one else is outside. I like my zombies cold and slow, because those weird ones are just as frozen all the others are.

People say they’re surprised by me when they first see me. They always say something about how I act like I’m part of the legion. I just… I want to get close to people, I’m a good man I promise, and I know we’ve all lost a lot in the past years, but I don’t want to loose everything again. A few people like Brick and Allie have managed to get on my good side, but these days I’m struggling to find things worth fighting for. I might just hang back one of these days with the bottle of wine I have in my pack and a gun and just wait for the walkers to show up and join my family again. I’m a good, god-fearing man, but I think he’d understand when an old dog has had enough.

-Anthony ‘Tony’ Vanos.

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[hider=Allison 'Allie' Notri]

I saw Tony doin’ something like this. Thought I’d join in. Maybe I’d get Brick to do it if I did it. Hell if I know. Name’s Allie, I’m from Tennessee, born and raised in Nashville to be exact. I was a techy kid back in 2010 and so, always tinkering with shit and figuring out where to go. I was about a month away from getting my engineering degree when everything went to hell, which is completely bullshit by the way because if we ever somehow fix this and I come out alive I’ll have to do it over again. I'm about 24 give or take a month or so, birthday was in late March.

I was a city kid, I know people, and I’ll tell you we haven’t changed a damn bit, as sad as that sounds. Conflict and self-interest drives everyone. You don’t want to die? Make that person a deal that benefits them more that killing you would. But being a city kid gave me a few skills. Rolling blunts, hotwiring cars, hell I should’ve been in a gang for the shit I know how to do. The only difference between me and the Condemned is that I wasn’t caught and I happen to be able to think of other things besides steal, rape, kill in that order, or in reverse order. Hell if I know what they do, I wouldn’t be surprised with either. Growing up was a bit tough, but I got through it, and I’ll get through this if it kills me… That was an ironic sentence. I like to think myself a pretty girl, I’m tall for what the average used to be 5'8 or so, and slender just by build and nature. I’ve been eating plenty more than I should- don’t worry. My [url= http://www.mediumhairstylescuts.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/1-Short-Hairstyles-For-Women-2013-pictures.jpg]hair’s[/url] been cut, just like Tony’s beard, it’s just long enough to the point where it falls just a little farther down than my eyebrows. I don’t dress like Tony does, I favor less of a defender and more of the quick and easy to get away kind of clothing. Tony seems to be nearly immune to all forms of weather somehow, but I on the other hand am much more sensitive. I wear tight jeans or leggings, or whatever I have that’s clean, a green shirt of any kind and a brown leather jacket. I also have a glove on my right hand. I lost the other one. I tend to wear sunglasses and a bandana. I wear simple running shoes, and I don’t plan on replacing them until they’ve been used. I have tied a pistol holster to my thigh that holds an M1911. I’ve fashioned a flashlight to the bottom of it, but I don’t have a battery for it right now. I have a knife in each one of my socks. I wouldn’t dare use one of those on a walker, but on a person? Sure, game on. My weapons of choice have to be my baseball bat or my hunting bow (NOT compound boy, simpler than that). The quiver is kept next to my backpack, which mostly holds changes of clothes, and a few essentials. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for Tony, being real here. Because I just don’t have the space on me to be fast and nimble while also being a walking caravan.

The worst part of the apocalypse so far, is I think I might be pregnant with Brick’s child, and I have no idea how to tell him, or how we’re going to manage this, if we’re even capable of it.

I miss how the world used to be.

-Allison ‘Allie’ Notari

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[hider=Roark 'Brick' Ronan]

My name is Roark Ronan, 27 years old. My parents had a thing for the ‘R’ sound. Allie and Tony call me Brick. I’m gonna keep this short, because I have things to do and I need to do my part to keep our little rag tag group alive. I’m from Alice Springs, Australia, and I moved to the USA when I was about seven. I’m the group’s leg breaker. I do the work that they don’t want to and most of the heaviest lifting that they cant. Tony tries to keep up, but there’s only so much an old fart like him can do without him pulling something. And we need him, as much as I hate to admit it. Allie could assist, and she does sometimes when she can, but most of the time she’s out doing one thing or another a little ways away from us, in a way she can do better than either of us can.

I’m not huge, about five foot ten or something, but I’m dense as a brick, hence my nickname. Last time I checked, which was a while ago so it’s give or take, I was nearly two hundred pounds despite not looking like I weigh more than 150 something. I dress to look my part. I’m not as fast as Allie, but I’m not as much of a utility as Tony is. I wear cargo pants, and a pair of steel toed work boots. I also tend to wear a white tank top that looks like it’s had the shit beat out of it, and a black leather hooded jacket that I scavenged off the ground. It’s got plenty of pockets around it. Great for storing shit. I stole Anthony’s idea and snagged some Motocross padding that I wear underneath my pants and over my tank top, underneath my jacket. I hate to say it, but the old man knows his shit. On my face I wear a shark jaws bandana and sunglasses, much like Tony and Allie. It works, the bandana keeps shit out, zombie blood and other air crap, and the sunglasses keep the sun out of my eyes. Just about all of my skin is covered, only person who has much of any skin shown is Allie who's lacking a glove. Hell even I have a pair of those on. You can see some of our faces I guess, if that counts. Take off my bandana and you'll see I've got short cropped brown hair, a rather square face and the typical Australian scruff that makes me look like a younger version of Chris Hemsworth according to Tony, who will pick fun at me for it from time to time.

I am a time bomb with an accent when it comes to anger management, and that’s why I don’t do the talking and more of just do what I’m good at. I’m the first to admit that I’m that way. I've always been that way since I got into some MMA about five years ago. I'm not master or anything like that but I've always been able to hold my own in a fight, that just taught me how to properly punch back. Allie and Tony aren’t the kind of people who will kill you, but they are the types who know someone who will get the job done. I am that person to them. Honestly, it’s not like I want to kill people, but I’ve seen so much death that I’m just… desensitized to it by now. I understand that most people have trouble letting go, I was there many times, but death has become an everyday occurrence. I’m more focused on not letting what happened to them happen to Tony, Allie, and I. Despite what everyone may think upon first meeting me, I don’t hate anyone, I just care about the others more. Tony’s pretty much my dad and I owe the man my life and three times over the respect I show him, and Allie’s the only link I have back to how life was before this happened. I love her more than anyone I’ve ever known. I personally bury every living person I kill out of respect. From one survivor to another.

My weapons of choice include a Sawn-off shotgun and my G22 and Beretta M9 pistols. I have one strapped to each of my hips. Along my thigh I have the sheath to a Schrade Kukri machete, which houses one of my more deadly weapons. My final weapon, and the one I use more than any other and my weapon of choice, is my Annihilator crowbar, which I found in a home depot. I can be seen carrying it more often than not, and if I’m not it’s tied to the right side of my backpack balancing out my shotgun (which is tied to the other side) for easy retrieval for use.

Finally, my most distinct feature is that my dog, Diesel, just about always accompanies me wherever I go. Diesel is a six-year-old male Rottweiler, probably weighs a little north of 140lbs. My mum used to train dogs for various different purposes, and while I wasn’t always the best at helping her, I was able to improvise and teach Diesel to be a guard dog. He will attack and defend on command and knows where to bite to kill well enough. Rottweiler’s were pretty renowned for their bite before everything went to shit, I’m glad I wont get in trouble for it now. He’s sweet as can be when he’s not on alert, and acts, as a wonderful early warning system for us, cause he can smell and hear things we can’t. Allie takes him hunting sometimes. If he catches them early enough he can bring down or distract deer for her. Tony spoils him rotten; I think Diesel, Allie, and I are the only things keeping him going now.

-Roark 'Brick' Ronan

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