[quote=@Timemaster] [hider=Killa'] [center][h2][color=olive]Name[/color][/h2] [img]https://storage.googleapis.com/pai-images/d80a8054b0114e32be97fe673e0c4d3b.jpeg[/img] [sub][i]Ashley “Killa’” Lost[/i][/sub][/center] [color=olive]Gender, Age, Orientation:[/color] [sub][i]Female, 16, Bisexual[/i][/sub] [color=olive]Height and Weight:[/color] [sub][i]1.62 m, 46 kg[/i][/sub] [color=olive]Life Before the End:[/color] [sub][i]Even before the End, Ashley’s life was bad, very bad. She was the youngest of a family of 5, with a mother working 3 jobs and a deadbeat drunk dad who abused them after every bender. Butch and Willow, Ashley’s oldest siblings, the twins, took care of the house when the mother was working. Their life soon turned even worse when another sibling was born and the father went crazy. In the years that followed, when Ashley was around 3, Butch killed their father after in a drunken haze, killed their mother. Ashley can’t remember much about the time before the End but time passed and the first cases of the Olive Plague were detected [/i][/sub] [color=olive]Life Since the End:[/color] [sub][i]The Lost family, like countless others, were infected with the Olive Plague. Despite the initial hope that some might be immune or a cure will be found, the virus claimed all but three. Butch, the oldest brother, Willow, the eldest sister, and young Ashley were the sole survivors. Butch, alongside a few of his new prison friends, escaped prison and, wanting to protect what remained of his family and take advantage of a world without laws, founded "The Butchers," a ruthless group of raiders. Composed entirely of former convicts or those who should have faced murder charges, The Butchers were relentless. They killed anyone that got into their way, enslaved the rest. Under Butch's influence, Willow forgot her kind-hearted self and became a self-proclaimed torture master within the ranks of The Butchers, enjoying making others scream for hours upon hours before killing them. Ashley, still a mere child, grew up surrounded by the worst of humanity. As Ashley grew up, she took her first life at the age of 10. A right of passage they called it to teach her how to be a “woman”. And by the time she was 14, Ashley found herself in charge of a smaller crew within The Butchers, a position that came with its own challenges. The members of her crew, underestimating the young girl, posed a constant threat, kept in check only by the fear of Butch. By the age of 15, Ashley was a feared raider leader. Using her two blades to cut through anyone that even gave her a sidelong glance and bearing numerous scars, she was given the nickname “Killa’” by the Butchers after she cut down a family of 4, all on her own. Sadly, for Killa’ her destiny seemed to be different than being killed by someone looking for food. One day during a raid on a farmhouse, a place that served as a home base for other survivors, Ashley found herself separated from her crew and found herself taken hostage. Her captors, wary of retaliation from The Butchers, kept her alive as an insurance policy. As the group moved south, Ashley bid her time until an opportunity for escape presented itself. She managed to escape, by pure luck after a group of raiders attacked the group which provided enough of a distraction. Finding herself in Columbus, she was lost. Not knowing where the Butchers are, she wandered around and found Mama Jones’s camp. With the survivors at Mama Jones’s unaware of her past or her reputation, this proved the perfect opportunity to scout this group, learn their weaknesses, numbers and hiding spots. Butch would surely come one day, after all and the best way for him to forgive her mistake, would be to offer him something good. [/i][/sub] [color=olive]Personality:[/color] [sub][i]Killa’ is what one might have called in the world pre-End a sociopath. She cares little about her fellow man with little to no empathy. Short-tempered and cunning, using her fellow man to get what she needs. [/i][/sub] [color=olive]Spark:[/color] [sub][i]Her family. From almost day 1, The Butchers were her family. Always ready to do anything she could to prove herself to Butch. [/i][/sub] [color=olive]Skills:[/color] [sub][i]Blade Combat: Killa’ has earned a name as a knife user. Be they throwing knives or straight up machetes, there aren't that many blades she hasn't used to kill or maim. Con-girl: Before she became Killa, The Butchers were using her to join groups kind enough to save an innocent girl. Fast: maybe not a skill per se, but Killa knows how to run. Her slim, toned body is a testament to that. [/i][/sub] [color=olive]Role:[/color] [sub][i]Scout: using her small stature and speed, the Jonesgroup uses Killa as a scout when needed. Butcher: If there's no need for her skills, Killa uses her knife skills to skin animals or cut them into pieces.[/i][/sub] [color=olive]Tools:[/color] [sub][i]The only thing she managed to take from her captors was her family knife. It is a combat knife with the letters B.L. scratched on the handle.[/i][/sub] [hider=Optional: Extra Details] [center][color=olive]What They Most Want:To be reunited with her family. [/color] [color=olive]If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:Chaotic Neutral[/color] [color=olive]Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:Their mind.[/color] [color=olive]Worst Fear:Dying[/color] [color=olive]Favourite Color:Blood red[/color] [color=olive]What animal are they most like?: A Jackel / Hyena[/color] [color=olive]Favorite Song:Aurelio Voltaire - When you're evil[/color] [color=olive]How They Dress: whatever is available[/color] [color=olive]Thing they most miss about the world before the End: her mom.[/color] [/center] [/hider] [/hider] [hider=The Butchers] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/93/f9/c4/93f9c4958324369b1663724d94ce361e.jpg[/img] "Run, run, ruuuunnn! We're comiiiinnnngggg and you'll be dead by the end of it!"[/center] The Butchers are a ruthless band of raiders. They are a force to be reckoned with, with numbers reaching up to 150 individuals without counting their slaves. Founded by Butch, the eldest brother of the Lost family, the group is formed out of former convicts or people the on the other side of the law. The Butchers, composed entirely of hardened individuals, stop at nothing to achieve their goals. They kill and enslave without regard, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake. The Butchers' loyalty lies solely with their own, and anyone standing in their way becomes a target. They're a nomadic bunch but have been known to have certain places which are considered "their territory". Population: About 150 Resources: High Leader: Their leader is Butch Lost, almost known as Butch The Butcher. He's a large man, broad shoulders and muscles that buldge under the tight shirts he's wearing, with an eyepatch that covers up one of his eyes, bald and with numerous tattoos and scars. Survival Strategy: Slavery, Take everything by force Appropriate Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3b6SGoN6dA [/hider] [/quote] Approved! With some small corrections: -You might want to drop the [sub] and [i] tags. I had those in the sheet only for leaving small suggestions to the person filling it out. Writing your whole sheet with the text small and italicized makes it hard to read. -I wouldn't recommend calling Killa a sociopath. Sociopathy is a real condition, meaning that you're not likely to portray it correctly unless you're willing to put in a lot of research. It might be better just to play her as she is without labeling exactly what's wrong with her. (My own character has serious emotional/mental issues, and I did not give him an official diagnosis for precisely this reason.) [quote=@Enigmatik] I may have had a bit of a headstart on writing this. Alas, even I am not quite this efficient. It's mostly done, but there's still a few WIP bits in for me to polish up and get sparkling. [hider=Caleb Carr, Horticulturalist and Outdoorsman] [center][color=seagreen][h2]Caleb "CC" Carr[/h2][/color] [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/847005959071072256/1199596101846712360/8666c157c2eec14fe13f036e3b0c8d10.png?ex=65c31dee&is=65b0a8ee&hm=d016c748d19fec429d5459e6e0cd39e6dfd9d407d775952455e44a45302881a1&[/img] [color=seagreen][i]Nobody calls them a space cowboy.[/i][/color] [color=seagreen]The Basics[/color] Non-Binary (AMAB), 27, Bisexual 6'4", 172lbs (190cm, 78kg.) [color=seagreen]How They Look[/color] Tall enough to be average in the Netherlands, but with a hunch to avoid slamming into doorframes and a figure that sits somewhere between 'rake' and 'slightly bulkier rake,' Caleb was never one to get lost in a crowd, back when those were still a regular feature of life. They cut scraggly and slightly unkempt figure with shaggy, tumbling locks of dark brown hair and an ever-present beard, trimmed down with scissors and the occasional luckily-found razorblade. Perhaps their most important posession is a pair of glasses that have become uncomfortably scratched ever since optician's visits became a thing of the past, which sit over a set of stormcloud grey eyes, graced with near-perpetual dark bags. The apocalypse put an end to their cheery battle jackets and slimline jeans: now, Caleb wears clothes that are both rugged and practical, and always with a set of braces for their ankles and knees. This is combined with pads for their the latter for when they're out in the field, and they always keep a pair of hard-knuckled gloves in their pocket, just in case. They're almost never seen without a worn, battered, but still very much tough and functional leaather jacket, covered in patches to repair and reinforce the damage its taken, and they usually pair it with old faded band shirts and a never-ending parade of looted and mended cargo trousers, ranging from stolid khaki to urban camo grey. With a solid pair of rugged hiking boots to back it all up, CC looks for all the world like the outdoorsman that they've become in the years since the Olive Plague. -- [color=seagreen]What Came Before[/color] CC was born as an only child in London (the British one, not the one in Arkansas, Kentucky or Ohio, ta very much,) to an upper-middle class family with bright prospects in life. They grew up a well-rounded figure, although perhaps a little bit more insular than most with two busy working parents. Despite the concrete jungle that was their home, weekend getaways and time spent in the city's massive parks imprinted an appreciation of the natural world on them from an early age, and by the time university options were on the table their grades were good enough for them to pack their bags and head to Nottingham University, where they started work on an undergraduate's course in Botany and Horticultural Studies, with an option for a year abroad. During that year abroad, they made the fateful decision to head across the pond to North Carolina State University... The very same year that the Olive Plague swept across the world and ended life as they knew it. The UK closed its borders before Caleb could get on a plane to head home, and so as the disease tore its way through the crowded campus, they were stuck an ocean away from home, with things looking increasingly grim for the young Brit. But there was, at least, some hope. Even as their classmates and lecturers fell to the plague, Caleb seemed entirely unaffected. A lucky quirk of genetics had rendered them either immune or asymptomatic, and once the dust finally settled and quiet reigned across the continent, they emerged, tenatively, into an utterly changed world. -- [color=Seagreen]What Came After[/color] During the initial chaos and collapse, CC weathered the storm by staying indoors, stealing the food out of their flatmate's fridges and making the blandest pasta to ever grace a set of cheap walmart plates. Two weeks in their newly-minted lifestyle as a hermit was entirely disrupted by the collapse of the water and electricity, finally forcing them out of the dorms and into the now significantly more depopulated world. With nobody and nothing tying them to the NC State University, CC did something that most would probably think to be lunacy: they picked a direction and started walking, with little more than a rucksack and a guitar for company. For a while they followed the interstate system, camping at truckstops and petrol stations, heading into cities when they were in desperate need of supplies and using cars whenever they could find a pair of keys, on a trip to nowhere in particular. Those first few years were the oddest. The world seemed quiet and still: nature had done little to reclaim the urban sprawl, and the wildlife was still accustomed to the peculiar new state of things. They travelled westwards: crossing the border to Tennessee on foot, driving through Nashville and on towards Arkansas. They encountered few people in their travels; mostly small groups that had cautiously began to spring up in the ruins of society, their voices a startling sound admist the quiet of a world reclaimed. For three years they'd wander, purposeless, eventually turning back east in the Oklahoma panhandle. They saw oil rigs already succumbing to the Texas sands, coyotes battling with domestic dogs in Dallas' streets, and even encountered a group of truckers, still riding the roads using freshly pumped oil. As their journey continued through towards the wetlands of Mississipi, they began to encounter more and more settled groups; those who had survived and joined together to form new communities in this harsh world. Some of them were friendly. Many were accepting enough to an unaffiliated wanderer such as Caleb, but for every two communities that would let them go along their merry way, there was one who tried to to take advantage of Caleb's lonely journey for their own means. Although they'd never used a gun prior to the apocalypse, they quickly had to learn the basics of operating the M4 they'd scavenged, although fortunately they found that the threat it posed was more than enough to dissuade most casual banditry. It was in Alabama that they ran into their biggest hurdle. An organised group naming themselves the Gadsen Bannermen had established a stronghold in the ruins of Huntsville, and were not friendly to outsiders. After an intial scattered encounter that left one of the Bannermen dead, Caleb was forced to go to ground, creeping through abandoned buildings and travelling mostly at night, escaping the area by the skin of their teeth. Soon afterwards, they'd have their first encounter with the Mounted Skulls, and it was here that they realised that it was no longer viable for a lone wanderer to make their way across this new world. Uncomfortable at joining the Dixie Brotherhood and with the Neighbours not accepting new members, that just left the Jonesgroup for Caleb to join with, where they quickly fell into their role of horticulturalist, rennovating the property's large greenhouse and setting to work with their newfound community. They've stuck with it ever since. -- [color=seagreen]What They're Like[/color] Quiet, often. Almost surprisingly so. A couple of years without very much human contact will do that to you; years hearing nature slowly reclaim the human world gives one an almost medatative outlook on life. Even now that they're back in a society, the call of nature still cries out to them, keeping them in the Jonesgroup's fields and greenhouses and guaranteeing that they'll be the first to volunteer for rekkies or hunting trips. Back at the base, they prefer smaller, more personal groups to big meetings and group meals. They're not [i]unsociable,[/i] far from it: they're happy to get out their guitar and play music, or to help a newcomer to the farm figure out how to handle crops, but more than a few people have gotten a distant impression from Caleb and their quiet, contemplative attitudes. One other thing assists all of this thinking though: a not insignificant amount of chemical assistance. Caleb's learnt mycology the hard way: by fucking up batch after batch of fungi until they finally got a mycelium network to settle and mushrooms to sprout. All of them are edible, but some of them are more [i]fun[/i] than others are. Ditto for their plants: almost all their carefully tended to sprouts and shoots are of the edible variety: tomatoes, maize, beans, peas and the like... But in a little patch, segmented off and guarded as carefully as their own child would be, sits a small crop of broad-leaved cannabis plants, unfeminised plants carried all the way from a legal grow op. -- [color=seagreen] Why They Keep Going[/color] They might not give off the vibe, they wouldn't admit it if you asked them to their face, but the real reason that CC wakes up in the morning? Pure, unrestrained [b]spite.[/b] For all they know, everyone they loved back in London is dead, their home is gone, and they could be the only Brit in a five-state radius left alive on this godforsaken continent. But here they are, and here they'll remain. If the Olive Plague didn't get them, they're sure as shit not letting this new world do them in. Oh, and the weed. The weed definitely helps. --- Unsurprisngly, most of a degree in plant's science can be extremely useful in a world where the farms aren't churning out 96 million acres of corn every year. Because of this, CC has taken on the role of chief horticulturalist, carefully tending to seedlings and shoots in the Jones' rather large greenhouse before transferring them out into the big wide world, to hopefully keep food in everyone's bellies. In the evenings, they're normally more than happy to pull out a six string and play a little music... Not to mention the plants they grow that aren't edible. --- Colt M4: The real deal, at least for civilians. A grand and change's worth of black metal and blacker polymer, taken from the house of someone with fifteen guns but no deadbolt on the door. A bit battered and worn from the years by CC's side, but still a perfectly functional weapon for use against animals and humans alike. Taylor V-Class Acoustic: A gift from their father back in the UK, this Taylor is one of the vanishingly few posessions they still have from back home. Carried throughout their rambling across the continent to the Jones' estate, still in surprisingly decent condition. Council Tools Jersey Axe: A real piece of Americana, for what little that's worth these days. Mostly good for splitting logs to feed a fire, although can be used to knock down smaller trees, doors, rotting drywalls and, in a real pinch, people should the need arise. An Unknown Brand of Leather Stitching Supplies: From a suburban garage in Nowheresville, Arkansas. Has needles, thread, a punch set and everything else one might need to mend and patch leather. Not as common as you might think. Extra-strong magnifying glass, mason jars, muslin, a set-aside area of the woodshed and neatly organised seed bags: Wait, what the hell do all these random objects and a place have in common? Oh. Oh, yeah, of course. [/center] [hider=Optional Fun Extra Things] [center][color=seagreen]What They Most Want:[/color] "One thing? To get back to the UK. Or what's left of it. Unless someone feels like making another Mayflower though, I don't see how that'll happen." [color=seagreen]If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:[/color] "Now that brings me back. Wonder if enough folks would be interested to get a campaign running here? As for myself... Neutral... Chaotic? Chaotic Neutral? I guess that works." [color=seagreen]Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:[/color] "What kind of horoscope-arsed question is that? But, if I had to answer... Heart. Gotta keep your noggin screwed on tight though; there's no hospitals to get you back on your feet any more." [color=seagreen]Worst Fear:[/color] "Shit, at the moment? Getting my head blown off by those bikers. Other things tend to fall by the wayside in the face of the more immediate concerns." [color=seagreen]Favorite Color:[/color] "A nice deep green. Like healthy, well-watered leaves." [color=seagreen]What animal are they most like?:[/color] "Another one of these horoscope questions? Uh... Hmm... Badger. European, not the methhead ones over here in the states. Hardworking little buggers they are." [color=seagreen]Favorite Song:[/color] "You ever heard Dopesmoker back in the day? Done by a band called Sleep? It's over an hour long of pure stoner metal greatness. Can't even get an electric guitar to work these days." [color=seagreen]How They Dress:[/color] [i]Caleb simply gestures down towards their clothes.[/i] [color=seagreen]Thing they most miss about the world before the End:[/color] "Other than my family? Putting the kettle on, making a cuppa and plonking yourself down in a nice soft armchair. Oh, and warm showers." [/center] [/hider] [/hider] [/quote] Approved! Drop in the char tab and start posting whene- Oh yeah, we're not posting yet. I'm so used to saying that.