RickyG85 — Roleplayer Guild

Willis was packing up his tools. It was early in the day, but with the emergency situation they'd had in the night, he'd had to start early.

He looked back at the wall as they were finishing patching up the hole, shaking his head. He'd have to talk with... Whoever was in charge, about putting his skills and knowledge to better use. The walls were set very quickly, hastily, sloppily. How else did one of those... Things punch a whole big enough to get through? Maybe they could rebuild, and reinforce the walls in segments? Something more permanent...

as he was checking how much propane he had left in his torch (mostly just shaking it, and approximating how much remained), he heard someone shouting! His expression went from concerned to annoyed as the meaning of the words registered in his mind. He heaved a sigh, shaking his head again, "...That kid..."

Slinging his tool bag over his shoulder, he walked toward the young man, "Well, good morning, Maddox! Anybody ever tell you how funny you are?" He made sure he put as much sarcasm into the question as possible, while wearing a scowl of disapproval. He gestured to the newly patched breach in the wall, "And if somebody said 'yes', I suppose you'd have a laugh over that, too?"

Name
Willis Erikson

Age
65

Place of Residence
245 Elm St

Personality Traits
Grumpy- Willis isn't antisocial, just quick to frustration in his old age, which makes him short with people sometimes. It most frequently happens when he's working with someone and he has to explain more than he likes about the work and how to do it. He's otherwise a good-natured sort. He's quick to apologize for being short with people, but only once the job is done, because priorities. Lately the unending stress of living the way they do, under frequent/constant threat is making him... Not jumpy, but more irritable in response to being, frankly, scared. This results in him being passive aggressive with some, not unlike how he was before with his son...

Handy- Willis is a retired carpenter, and as such knows his way around many tools and materials. He has a handful personal tools, carried on a tool belt, and can instruct people in the use of others. He's also been helpful in the interest of "recycling" materials; some of their construction endeavors forced them to deconstruct portions of existing structures for want of materials, but he helped make sure the deconstructions were efficient as possible, cutting down on materials rendered unusable.

Background
Willis didn't lead what one would call an exciting life; born and raised in Hvass, just like his father, and his father's father, and his father before him. They have a long history with the town, and Willis was proud of that! Even his career in carpentry was an heirloom of this proud lineage.

Than his own son broke tradition, entirely, leaving Hvass to pursue college and be a doctor. He was always sore about this subject, when his son would visit, "Who says a good job means leaving your home and family behind?" Yes, they fought often, and Willis never did admit part of his hurt feelings on the matter was their home, itself: The Erikson House had always been a multigenerational home, with it's own history almost as storied as the town itself, so as he saw it, now here stands a perfectly good tree, abandoned by it's own fruit...

They'd fought particularly harshly at his wife's funeral service, and his son was concerned for his care. Willis thought, at first, this meant him coming back home, with the family he'd made for himself, and reclaiming his mantle as heir to the Erikson House. He was very bitter when he found out a paid stranger in his house was more what he had in mind.

It wasn't anything as bad as severing ties, but his dissatisfaction with the whole affair was now the first and last thing to come up whenever they spoke. "Hello, son. Yeah, I'm still alive, wouldn't need a phone to check on me if you came home, you know." "Good hearing from you, son. It'd be better to hear that you'll let me fire this condescending women that won't let me go to the bathroom without an escort and doesn't even know how to hang a picture frame!"

He kept this up for 5 years.

Then The Great Fog came. The caregiver's pink slip wound up being a couple broken kitchen knives and a claw hammer to the head, as she tried to tear his throat out with her teeth! Not exactly being the "Board up the windows and run for the bomb-shelter-in-the-basement" sort, after that incident he waited until he thought it was safe to venture outside (He could hear that he wasn't the only one having problems, that day). He tried to head for the church, but somehow wound up at city hall instead. He made a point of being useful in the aftermath, too old to be heavily involved in the fighting (He had a lot of fun with propane torches and aerosol products, though, when they figured out the fire thing), but his skill set contributed a lot to the walls that were soon constructed, to keep what they could of the town, and keep it safe!

Other Info
Anything else worth mentioning.

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