[b]Name:[/b] Leon Murray
[b]Group:[/b] Walkers
[b]Age:[/b] 25
[b]Occupation:[/b] Office clerk
[b]Family life:[/b] Single
[b]Hair:[/b] Brown
[b]Eyes:[/b] Green/Blue
[b]Weight:[/b] 175lbs
[b]Picture:[/b] [url=http://i.imgur.com/LJOv6gB.jpg]Click![/url]
[b]Blood type:[/b] O+
[b]Immune:[/b] Yes

[b]Gear:[/b] Since it's almost winter, Leon travels in heavy coat, a black jumper, camouflage trousers and hiking boots. He also has a backpack in which he carries essentials such as a toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, a book, and other items related to hygiene and keeping his sanity intact.

Also in Leon's possession is a fire axe he'd managed to salvage from his office, and he'd used it to cut his way through his co-workers and out to safety, sort of.

[b]Bio:[/b] Leon was born into a fairly normal family. Two parents, two siblings. Nothing stood out during Leon's childhood. He went to school, played with friends and had a general good time. But he did spend most of his free time watching TV and playing video games, but so did most kids his age, so nothing was too alarming about what he was doing.

After leaving school with fairly average grades, he got a job at a local insurance company, and ended up behind a desk, at a computer screen for eight hours a day. He was the literal meaning of the term "9-to-5". Leon didn't mind though. He made enough money to get by and provide for himself. He had the bare essentials. An apartment, food, clothing, a bed, a TV. Everything a grown up needed to survive.

Leon felt something was wrong as soon as he heard the first reports on the radio. But he treated that day as any other. He got up, showered, dressed, ate breakfast and headed to work. The reports about the "dead rising" on the radio became more frequent as he drove to work, but he just dismissed it as conspiracy theorists having a field day.

He headed to his desk and the first three hours of the day were as normal as any other. Before he went to lunch, Leon went into the bathroom, but nothing would have prepared him for what was inside. A mutilated corpse. Blood was spattered all over the floor and the walls. There were a few, what looked like, bite marks all over his neck and torso. The crimson liquid seeped from each opening.

As he turned on his heel and made for the door, he heard a blood-curdling scream from the hallway. Leon burst out and what met him was a scene of pure chaos and brutality. His co-workers were... eating each other. It almost resembled what he'd just seen in the bathroom, with blood covering almost every inch of flooring and walls. He couldn't believe it. It was normal when he'd left his desk. It was almost as if somebody had flipped a switch and everything had gone to Hell.

Leon dashed for the exit. Luckily, the psychos were busy eating prey they'd already got their hands on to notice him. But as he was a couple of metres away, he was cut off by approximately four of his newly-turned co-workers. Leon turned once more and sprinted for the opposite hallway, hoping they weren't following him, or were at least too slow to catch up. But, again, he was cut off, so he dived into the janitor's closet and barricaded himself in with whatever he could find in there.

The fire axe that was held onto the wall had not been taken, so Leon grabbed it before anybody else could and tried to think of a plan to escape. He looked up. A window! Leon could hear the undead moaning just outside, and they were scratching and clawing against the door. He propped the bucket against the wall, stood atop it, smashed through the window with his axe and then hoisted himself through it, just as they broke inside.

He'd got about a hundred metres down the alleyway before he realised he'd actually got a pretty large cut along his thigh from cutting it on a piece of glass. Leon gritted his teeth, made it to his car and drove as far as he could, until he ended up in the country, and out of gas.

Leon tore off his sleeve, wrapped it around his gash and carried on his way, hoping to find salvation.

[b]Personality:[/b] Leon has an every-man-for-himself mentality after witnessing the horrors of the end, but will happily work with others if it means he won't end up zombie chow. He is friendly to most, but it's normally because he doesn't want to be shot on sight. He's spent most of his adult life alone, so prefers to work by himself instead of in a group but, like before, will do so if it means something good will come of it. But he's slowly drifting away, mentally and physically, after months and months of walking on his own and staying in isolated places are beginning to take their toll on him.