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[hider=Bubba Bellenger][center] 
[sup][sub][color=aba000]aba000[/color] [color=1b1464]|[/color] Robert Redford[/sub][/sup]
[img]http://images.fandango.com/images/fandangoblog/Jeremiah-Johnson-Best-Robert-Redford.jpg[/img][hr][color=gray][h1]Bubba Bellenger
[sup]Asylum Inmate/Factory Employee[/sup][/h1][/color][/center][hr]
[indent][indent][sub][h3][color=gray]Physical Characteristics[/color][/h3][/sub]
[color=silver][i]Bubba is a giant of a man, topping out close to seven feet in height with thick arms and legs like oak trunks. His ragged, blood stained clothes preach of hard times in his past, and his wide, icy blue eyes tell a tale of madness barely suppressed within. He's got a gorgeous smile, or at least what once might have been a gorgeous smile now the clenched toothy grin of a psychopath, his teeth stained yellow but set in neat rows, all surrounded by an unkempt, dirty blonde beard. Bubba carries himself as light as a cat despite his bulk and has a nasty habit of licking his lips when he's around other people, and staring at them hungrily...[/i][/color]

[color=gray][sub][h3]Life Before the Apocalypse[/h3][/sub][/color]
[color=aba000]"Me? Well paint me black an call me negro, if that ain't something. Most people don' give a damn where I came from before, they jus' give me funny looks. Well since ya done asked nice I'll tell y'all, just let me put in a lip first, there we go. So I was working with this recycling plant ou by Brimming. But I got snagged by th’ law over after a little incident an’ got myself a dang long sentence. They put me in this nice place called, Saint Ninnys or somethang. Th' hell if I know what its actually called. Anywho I'd been staying there, held up for th' past two years. But then this hullabaloo started in earnest, an' people was panicking every which way from Tuesday. I didn't mind th' chompers too much, long as they kept their distance, an' they didn't mind me, long as I kept mine. Th' interns left th' doors open for me, nice of them I said. But I ain't sure how I got to Minnesota so quick. Funny thing time, flies like’a crow. I've been jumping rides since Birmingham, seemed lots'a people been heading northwards, and I figured, why th' hell not? I've been wanting to see Canada for awhile, and I was bored. They certainly didn't need nor want me back at th' factory." [/color]

[color=gray][sub][h3]Strengths & Weaknesses[/h3][/sub][/color]
[color=green]➕[/color][color=silver]There's something to be said about Bubba's immense strength when it comes to survival. He's a fighter through and through, tougher than a bear and strong as a horse and quick as a pissed off rattlesnake.
[color=green]➕[/color] Redneck know-how is often mocked, until the zombie apocalypse. In his own way Bubba is handier than a craftsman's bag, and can fix just about anything with only some WD-40 and duct-tape, plus he can skin an' trap a rabbit, gig a frog, crack-shot with any gun and be a generally useful outdoor redneck.
[color=red]➖[/color] His insanity really plays against him, and Bubba's a bit touchy on the subject. Calling him crazy is just about the one way to make him really angry as laid back and amicable as he usually is. Course, he looks crazy and acts it too, but as long as no one mentions it.
[color=red]➖[/color] Having received a less than five star schooling Bubba isn't the most book smart person in the world. Sure he can read and write and do his numbers, just don't ask or expect him to understand long division or delve into deep nuanced concepts.[/color]

[color=gray][sub][h3]Personal Goals[/h3][/sub][/color]
[color=silver]
	Bubba's goals are simple things. From day to day its finding the next meal and another can of dip, helping people and fulfilling his erratic desires. He likes providing assistance, as long as people ask nice. He's a genuine southern boy after all, and being useful is what makes him happy. Beyond that he's always saying how he'd like to see the states, and how much he enjoys touring all these new places. For some reason Bubba doesn't mind the general chaos and apocalypse, and seems unfazed by the death and destruction. Actually, if someone was to venture a guess they might say he enjoys it! So, Bubba doesn't have any plans on trying to set up a new civilization, develop a cure, or anything like that. He'd rather keep roaming, play whack-a-mole with the chompers, and find a goddamn pair of wheels and some gasoline so he doesn't have to walk everywhere all th' damn time!
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[color=gray][sub][h3]Inventory[/h3][/sub][/color]
	[color=silver]Bubba's got a pistol, a Glock .45, with a whole eight rounds remaining. He prefers to use his woodcutters ax however as its general purpose and quite useful, especially since he can swing it hard enough to split skulls. In his backpack he carries about thirty-seven cans of dip that he looted from a convince store, a water bottle, and some beef jerky. Stuck in his boot is a flaying blade, and rolled on top of his pack is a heavy dark green poncho.[/color]
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