Name: Johnathan 'John' Gardner
Sex: Male
Age: 18
Appearance:
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[img]http://orig14.deviantart.net/b866/f/2012/151/b/5/survivor_guy_early_colour_pass_by_thelastsamu-d51s9a5.jpg[/img]
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Skills: 
[i][u]Climbing[/u][/i]: Can climb up almost any surface. May it be trees, buildings, fences, he can do it.

[i][u]Tracking[/u][/i]: An expert tracker. All he needs is tracks, or a scent, and hell do his best.

Personality: A very kind person. He has a good heart, and will do the best he can to help a friend or a loved one. Econ though he is kind, he is quiet and secluded. He mainly keeps to himself, but is always welcomed by other people to join in on talks and chats, because of his kind personality.

Flaws: 
[u][i]Steady Pace[/i][/u]: While because of this, it gives him accurate tracking, but it also takes him, exceptionally longer to finish the tracking job. That risks being caught, or losing what he is tracking.

[u][i]Big City Syndrome[/i][/u]: As a boy that lived secluded, in the middle of no where, he is not used to big cities, and can easily get lost in them. 

History (Pre-outbreak): he lived on a small farm ranch in the middle of no where. He helped his family on the farm to make a profit. In his free time, he was out in the woods, playing, climbing trees or hunting deer. Since he was out there so long, he developed many skills to aid him on his treks in the woods.

History (Post-outbreak): The night it started, he was in the woods while his mother, father, and younger sister, ate dinner, he came back late, and when he got there, he saw them. Their bodies, lifeless shells on the ground. He looked around the room for the source of their death. He noticed a small, infection on the piece of venison that they ate. He sat on the couch, and cried. He cried for fifteen minutes until he heard... The, groans. He saw them coming after him. He ran. Ran. Just ran. Until he found himself at the end of the big city. All he had was a small, six shot revolver, a pocket knife, and his hunting rifle around his back. He had to avoid many things, thugs, wild animals, and those... Things. Gruesome mutilated creatures. They couldn't run, so they called them walkers. He kept, walking, looting the places he could. It was obvious the world had went to shit. Now law was irrelevant, and he had to do anything to survive. He had hunkered up on the roof of a small, motel building. Until he heard the footsteps, of multiple people, a group.