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SavannahSmiles

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applications













application info.




BASICS
Name:
Nickname:
Age: (18-23 for Immune, 18+ for Survivors)
Gender:
Pronouns:
Sexuality:
Date of Birth:
Place of Birth:
Role:

VISAGE:
Height:
Weight:
Hair:
Eyes:
Build:
Distinguishing Features:
Scars:
Face-claim: (Drawn images are okay to use as a reference but a realistic image as the main image is required)

PSYCHE:
Personality:
Virtues:
Vices:
Moral Alignment:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Skills:
Hobbies:
Ailments:
Fears:

HISTORY:
Backstory:
Family:
Relationships:

EXPERIMENT FILE: (Remove if creating a Survivor)
Ability:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:

COMMUNITY FILE: (Remove if creating an Immune character)
Job within the community:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:

Feel free to add any additional information you desire, but make sure you at least include all of the information that is listed above.


















roles.











the clicker



Taken





Exposure to the fungus has left this experiment fully blind but she has developed the ability of echolocation, which she is able to utilize by creating a quiet clicking sound in her throat. Too much noise in one area can quickly overwhelm her and leave her disoriented.










the runner



open





This experiment is able to move at super-human speeds however they are limited to short bursts of speed before they tire and must recover their strength. Weighted wrist and ankle bracelets are used in order to minimize this experiments speed outside of testing hours.










the stalker



taken





Much like a shadow in the night, this experiment possess the ability to blend in with their surroundings, however bright lights limit their camouflage significantly. A tracker has been implanted within their collar in order to keep tabs on their location outside of testing hours.










the bloater



open





The tank of the group, this experiment can take hits and still keep going, though they must consume a significant amount of food to fuel their strength. Tranquilizers are to be used to mitigate any attempts at escape or in the instance of unruly behavior.










The Shambler



taken





This experiment is able to secrete acid from the palms of their hands without any affect to them. Specialized gloves are to be locked in place over the experiments hands outside of testing hours.










the rat king



taken





This experiment is able to withstand the heat of fire and walk away with no burns. A shock collar is to be engaged outside of testing hours for containment purposes.










survivors



0/4





They are members of Polson Community that is stationed in Montana, nestled on the banks of Flathead Lake.















character information.






Reminder that while drawn art is okay to use for references, a realistic face-claim is required as the main face-claim for the character. Any cs submitted that only contains art will not be accepted.

Please try to keep the gender ratio even; if we see too many people making characters of the same gender we may ask some to switch to even things out. Non-binary, gender-fluid, etc characters are welcomed!

Roles will not be first come, first serve, nor will reservations be accepted. After the specified deadline, applications will be reviewed and the character that is the best fit for the role will be accepted. Players are able to make a character for any role that they wish, even if others are also making a character for that role.

Players are limited to one character per person. After all of the Immune and Survivor roles are filled, we will allow extra survivor characters to be created though this will be limited to one per person to avoid a large cast of characters.

Immune characters are between 18-23 years of age and prior to escape, they have all been at Haven for five years. Survivors are 18+ and the community they live in has been established for roughly seven years.













β™‘coded by uxieβ™‘

BASICS
Name:
Nickname:
Age: (18-23 for Immune, 18+ for Survivors)
Gender:
Pronouns:
Sexuality:
Date of Birth:
Place of Birth:
Role:

VISAGE:
Height:
Weight:
Hair:
Eyes:
Build:
Distinguishing Features:
Scars:
Face-claim: (Drawn images are okay to use as a reference but a realistic image as the main image is required)

PSYCHE:
Personality:
Virtues:
Vices:
Moral Alignment:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Skills:
Hobbies:
Ailments:
Fears:

HISTORY:
Backstory:
Family:
Relationships:

EXPERIMENT FILE: (Remove if creating a Survivor)
Ability:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:

COMMUNITY FILE: (Remove if creating an Immune character)
Job within the community:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:

Feel free to add any additional information you desire, but make sure you at least include all of the information that is listed above.
 
Last edited:
  • 04
    03
    02
    general
    Yuki
    full name
    Miyano, Yuki
    nickname
    little songbird
    age
    18 years old
    Gender
    Male | He/Him
    sexuality
    Homosexual
    date/place of birth
    February 26th | QZ in Texas
    the clicker
    Ability:
    tba

    Strengths:
    tba

    Weaknesses:
    tba

    Experiment Notes:
    tba

left
 
Last edited:











The Stalker.















full name

Mavelyn Sonia Royersford






alias

Mave or Sonny






age

23






gender

Discovering the possibility of being Non-Binary






pronouns

She/They






sexuality

Demisexual






ethnicity

American, German, French






d.o.b.

October 13th, 2010






place of birth

Marble, Colorado


















style








































height

6'1"






hair

Curly, shoulder length, Dark Brown






eyes

Greenish-Blue






Build

Slender, lithe almost gangly. Very androgynous looking. Small chested and no real accentuation of feminine curves unless wearing more female designed clothes.






dist. features

Mole just under right nostril.






scars

A 5 inch scar on the side of her right thigh from when she was stabbed, a small burn scar on the inside of her left wrist from when she was 8 trying to make soup for the first time and accidentally touched the hot pot while reaching for something, and then other various small scars from trying to hunt and survive before getting kidnapped. Then some more from when she was training at the Haven facility.






face claim

McKenna Hellam.




































What Could Have Been




Sting ft Ray Chen











req.

req.














It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light. -Aristotle



Personality: Mave is quiet, bookish, keeps to herself a lot, but can be a great resource for teamwork if needed. She grew up in a very small town, the sort of small town where everyone knew everyone and were possibly related to one another in some way or another–so she does have a strong sense of community but can keep a secret like it’s no one’s business. She can be a bit offstandish in a sense that if she doesn’t like the vibe you give off, she’d rather just not be bothered to make pleasantries. She’s better at long conversations than she is at small talk. She likes to think of herself as an encyclopedia of useless knowledge; unless you need an outside of the box solution.

Virtues: Honest, critical thinker, hard worker, champion secret holder.

Vices: Sometimes envious, sometimes can be a bit judgmental, can be a bit clingy/jealous.

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

Skills: She can move stealthily and quietly, good hunting skills; especially with a bow and arrow and knives, she can easily blend in with any crowd or location like she had always been there, she’s quite knowledgeable about a lot of topics, can speak 3 languages (French, English and German).

Hobbies: Reading, arrow crafting, making herbal remedies (mostly topical), Making up songs to keep her focused-on tasks.

Ailments: Other than being slightly underweight she doesn’t have a lot of ailments.

Fears: Tight small spaces, a general anxiety around older men, Vast open spaces that have no way of hiding, needles.















likes


The smell of old books, the feel of grass on bare feet, onion grass, smell of wet fall leaves, large clouds, sound of rain hitting on metal roofs, the sound of walking on gravel or dried leaves, favorite tree is a weeping willow.









dislikes


Super loud people or noises, being too close to anything hot, being cold, the hum in fluorescent lights.








quirks


Mavelyn likes to have a set structure of their day. They are not a morning person. Prefers to lay under trees rather than in the sun. Will turn their drinking glass around three times before drinking out of it. Will rub their fingers on book pages when stressed.
















pers.

pers.
















birth



Mavelyn was born on a rainy October night. Middle of the week, with a sleepy cry and big Greenish-blue eyes that looked upon the world with a curiosity that the nurses and doctor had never seen before in a baby. At an early age she showed signs of a higher than average intellect and it was just after her third birthday–while Mavelyn and her family were at a special institute for gifted learners when the world was sprung into chaos and death. For ten years, all she ever really got to learn was how to survive. How to hunt, dress wounds, make arrows, and work within a community that was hell bent on surviving. She learned a lot about the world and what happened before the infestation started through books or her parents. Every night before bed she would ask them to tell her a fact about World History or Science, otherwise she just couldn’t go to sleep.

Growing up near the mountains in a very small town, there wasn’t a lot to do, other than hunting or building traps for the invested. After a while though, Marble Colorado became shut off from a lot of the neighboring towns where they could get supplies that they couldn’t get from their own resources and that small town soon began to dwindle further. By the time Mavelyn was fifteen years old, more than half the town was dead. Buried somewhere or burned to ashes in a pit a good few miles from the edge of town so that they couldn’t still somehow catch the infection. She grew up with a community, working together, surviving together. She was already an expert in handling a bow and arrow and could shoot a deer from 60 yards away–thanks to the help of her Uncle Jozef. She did her part just as everyone else had and because they were so far out in the mountains and such a small community, they rarely got bothered–not to say that there still weren’t an occasional group of thugs that tried to steal their rations and other supplies.

It was just one of those times when she was seventeen years old, when a wanna-be β€œ militia” group posing to be Fireflies tried to take the fresh deer her uncle and a few other of the men from town just hunted down. They had to travel further than the safe perimeter the town set because food was really starting to get scarce–barely making it back before evening–when they came in, first demanding some supplies in exchange for β€œsafety”. When the townspeople said they didn’t need their safety, they started to become hostile; even when they were willing to part with some of the food just to be left alone. The group didn’t like that one bit and decided to become violent, demanding again for food and supplies in exchange for not killing people in the town. Even under the threat of violence, her town stood firm. They again offered food in exchange for being left alone but they would not part with any of the dwindling supplies they had left. Well, that group of thugs made good on their word. They began shooting people at random. Children, the elderly, a few neighbors and Mavelyn’s parents. In the chaos of it all, they made off with most of their supplies and food. Only a few scraps left behind.

After that, Mavelyn wasn’t quite the same. She became quieter, more withdrawn and isolated. Promising to herself that they would never get close to anyone else ever again. This began the start of her generalized fear of older men–because that’s who attacked her town.









part. 2



It took a long year for Mavelyn (who became eighteen) to fully accept what happened to her parents. All she had left of immediate kin was her Uncle Jozef. He was getting older and frailer and with such little amounts of food they had already, he wasn’t able to go hunting anymore. So, she took over in his place. She was quick on her feet, quiet and a good shot. She could fell a deer within 60 yards and despite her lithe and lanky frame, Mavelyn could pull the dead animal back to town quicker than he ever could; even in his younger years.

On a blistering cold December day, she had just got done hog tying up a deer she killed, getting ready to transport it back to the town when she was suddenly ambushed. A bag was thrown over her head and pricked with a needle in her neck. An ice-cold feeling went through her and as the world began to spin, she was out. Waking sometime later, she wasn’t sure how long she was out for the bag still over her head but the echoing distant sounds of a vehicle and the way her body rocked on the gurney she was strapped to indicated that she was not in the mountains or woods anymore. She tried to say something, but she was still so groggy from whatever they drugged her with, and Mavelyn could help but fall back under its sleepy spell. She vaguely remembers waking up again slightly as she was being wheeled down a long corridor, the sickly hum of fluorescent lights above her as the brightness of them blinded her in her drugged state. She registered that the bag was off her head now, but there was nothing really around to figure where she was. She could hear a man and woman, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Their voices were muffled and distorted in her altered brain. She felt sluggish and trapped against the gurney. She tried to move her arms and legs, trying to summon all of her strength to do something. At her struggle, the woman began to console her, telling her not to struggle…or at least that’s what Mavelyn was trying to decipher.

She had been locked away in a dark room for an unknowable amount of time. It could have been hours, days or even weeks–Mavelyn couldn’t be for certain. The drugs finally wore off enough that she could focus on her own being. She wiggled her toes, her fingers, and slowly tried to look around in the darkened room. There were no discernable markings or signs. The walls were blank and peeling. The smell of wet drywall rot and some kind of metallic stung at her nose. She lifted her head up, to look down at herself the best she could–she was still strapped to the gurney, however she wasn’t wearing the clothes she had been. Instead, she was in some kind of hospital gown, a pair of thin socks over her feet, bunching at her ankles. She felt chilled but not so much that she was freezing. She squinted her eyes in the darkness, seeing a simple metal door, no window or opening–at least from what she could see in her current position.

β€œH-Hello?” She called out, her voice raspy and exhausted sounding. β€œIs anyone there?” She cried out, tugging at her wrists and ankles, trying to see how much give she had. β€œPlease!” She called out, pushing her voice louder the best she could.

There were some heavy steps coming closer to her door but suddenly stopped. She raised her head once more, staring in the direction of the door, her eyes adjusting better to the darkness. She could vaguely make out where a doorknob used to be but instead of the sounds of a door unlocking, there was suddenly a single light that came on above her. She exclaimed out her startle, her eyes clenching closed tightly from the sudden brightness. She blinked her eyes some, getting used to the light when the sounds of a key unlocking the door echoed behind the door. Mavelyn stared wide-eyed, anticipating the worst, her heart hammering in her chest, squeezing her hands into fists the best she could. The door swung open, and the outline of a person stood in the dimmed doorway. There wasn’t enough light in the hall to make out the person and with the light shining too brightly in her foggy disposition, she just couldn’t tell who it was. There was the sound of fabric shifting, then footsteps, then a few other footsteps that almost came out of nowhere filling into the room. There was nothing said, except for Mavelyn’s cries for help. Several hands held her down as the straps were released from her body, and then they picked her up, carrying her to the back corner of the room–although not too easily since she was fighting against them as best, she could. They dropped her none too gently on the thin mattress pad on the floor then hurriedly grabbed the gurney and left the room. The door was slammed shut in haste, locking and the sounds of multiple footsteps fading away down the hall.

Mavelyn got up on shaky legs and arms, crawling to the door, yelling as loud as she could for them to release her, to come back, to give her answers. Getting to the door, she pounded on it as hard as weakened body would allow. She cried out, yelling and nearly tearing her throat for how long she was shouting to be released–exhausting herself into sleep. She curled up at the door, grasping tightly to herself, weeping like a child until the darkness claimed her.

She wasn’t sure how long the strangers left her like that. Time didn’t exist anymore. She was going to be trapped until she died. Several times she thought that perhaps these people were the ones that attacked her town a year prior. But another part of her thought about how much more sophisticated this place was. Either way she was imprisoned here with no clue as to if her uncle was still alive or what was to become of her.

Just when she thought she would slowly rot in this room, laying on the makeshift mattress, the footsteps returned, the door unlocking and then the distinct sound of a metal tray sliding across the floor. The door slammed shut again and locked and she was left alone. She didn’t bother calling out for help, but curiosity got the better of her and she looked to see what they put in the room. A plate of food. It looked something akin to oatmeal and it was still steaming. She scrambled to her hands and knees again, crawling awkwardly until she settled herself on her legs, leaning forward and sniffed at the food. It didn’t have any weird smell to it, and her stomach grumbled angrily in hunger. With no utensils to use, she greedily picked the sticky food with her fingers, shoveling it into her mouth. She groaned out almost animalistically at the feel of food on her tongue again. She began weeping quietly as she ate the food slowly. When she was done, she crawled to the door, sitting just to the side of it, holding the plate, waiting for whoever to come back. She would use it to fight and try her best to escape.

However, that plan didn’t work out too well and in retaliation, whoever her captors were, they didn’t feed her for several more days. When they finally did feed her again, she quickly learned that it was better to be trapped than to be attacked, held down and drugged into obedience. So, she ate the food provided to her, slid the plate back and went back to her corner–slowly losing her mind. The only thing keeping her vaguely sane at this time was an old lullaby that her mother used to sing to her. She began humming it softly to herself, desperately holding onto the image of her parents, her remaining family and where she was.

Day in and day out it was like this until they won her obedience. Enough to get the preferential behavior they wanted. After some time, they began to let her out with an escort, to take Mavelyn to and from her new education classes, training and eventually to the surgical room where she was infected. When she had gotten the infection, it was like she died. A part of her did and was reborn into the hybrid that she was now. When she began to show signs of her strain of infection, they trained her more specifically and what her role would be within a unit. Despite the new β€œprivileges” of leaving her confinement, every day was like a new hell for Mavelyn. She silently wished for a way to escape.

And one day, the universe heard her wish.

Something happened. They were sure what, but suddenly things were in chaos, and like a moment of serendipity, the collars that they shackled with when becoming infected–along with other containment gear they were forced to wear–were powered down and they were able to get them off. Mavelyn and the other captured used the chaos to their advantage, using their (and for some new) found skills and abilities to escape. There was no destination in mind, just running until they couldn’t anymore. Lost somewhere in the wilderness, they holed up, trying to catch their breath, come up with some kind of game plan when they were found by some scouts from a nearby community. Seeing that they were all so young and helpless looking, they took them in. For everyone's safety, they were kept in isolation, and it was there that they all agreed to keep their infections a secret. Keep to one another, safety in numbers and so far, they could only trust each other.



















mother





Anna-Marie Royersford

Deceased.









father





Armin Royersford

Deceased









Uncle





Jozef Royersford

Unknown if still alive or not.













ability

The Stalker can camouflage with a chameleon-like trait to be able to bend light to hide themselves. Able to blend in seamlessly with any group of people or location–mostly due to their deft movements and quiet disposition even despite Mavelyn’s height. Ability to stick to surfaces such as walls or ceilings in order to find advantage points for camouflage or striking.






strengths

Enhanced fluid movements to make camouflage more seamless, keen senses of when to strike and how hard to strike, An almost unnatural ease of quiet movements and quickness. Enhanced flexibility in order to be able to camouflage in smaller areas or unthinkable places like ceilings or on walls.






weaknesses

Bright lights, vast open spaces.













hist.

hist.








scroll














β™‘coded by uxieβ™‘

 
Last edited:
Subject Name: Ajax Wagner
Nickname: Mac, Macky
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Pronouns: he/him/his
Sexuality: heterosexual, bi-romantic
Date of Birth: November 11, 2011
Place of Birth: Rexburg, Idaho
Role: Bloater

VISAGE:
Height: 5’5”
Weight: Approx 140 lbs, appears 120
Hair: curly & black
Eyes: green
Build: mesomorph / muscular
Distinguishing Features: beauty mark under right eye, sparse facial hair
Scars: neck, torso, arms
Face-claim: Logan Lerman

PSYCHE:
Personality: subject is talkative in nature, positive in most aspects. Though doesn't understand many modern concepts, which leads to easier opportunities for manipulation. The subject is certain of what he wants to do, and not want to do and will make it clear to handlers very loudly and aggressively.
Despite his β€˜stubborn’ nature, he makes his alliances well known, aligning himself with those who feed him the best, offer the most attention, etc. The subject is similar to that of a religious fanatic, while aligning with his alleged background, it is within a different sense, a megalomaniac, that he had been blessed by God to be an immortal. Leading to narcissism and schizoid tendencies.
Virtues: subject is easy to handle and control, docile in nature. He maintains very few virtues, though appears uncomfortable at the thought of harming children.
Vices: subject lacks proper empathy, animalistic in nature will remain loyal to those who can feed and care for him the best. Subject acts irrationally when made to do things he wouldn't like to do.
Moral Alignment: chaotic neutral
Likes: food, reading, (positive) attention, art
Dislikes: β€˜heretics’ (being disagreed with), being told what to do, cameras/being observed, playing the piano
Skills: knife wielding, navigation, piano playing
Hobbies: drawing (badly), astrology/astronomy, religion,
Ailments: npd, schizophrenia, irregular heartbeat, withdrawal
Fears: wrath of God/going to hell, his father

HISTORY:
Backstory: the subject claims to have been born in a Mormon commune, a religious background. Growing up in a traditional household. His siblings playing the piano, listening to the radio, reading β€˜appropriate’ books, with limited access to Internet or television before the oncoming apocalypse. He claims to have grown up with 8 siblings, the 2nd youngest.

The subject claims that money was hard to come by, and he rarely got new things. Living with hand me downs. His father, a local pastor drilling into him the bible, teaching him the piano ever since he was young. When the apocalypse began and his family was forced into a quarantine zone his treatment had only gotten worse as he grew older. Growing up reading religious text, taught that this hellscape was a punishment of God had traumatized the subject.

After losing many siblings, and even his mother his father had only pounded it into his head that his family members had sinned and they were being punished by God. A mixture of being placed on a pedestal by his father, the stressful environment of the quararine, and the physical abuse from his father as well seem to be the cause of his mental disabilities. The subject was taken in when he was 17.

Family:
Mother, Anna Wagner: Deceased
Father, Bill Wagner: Unknown, likely deceased
8 Unnamed Siblings: Unknown, Likely deceased
Relationships: n/a ATM

EXPERIMENT FILE:
Ability: Bloater. The bloater’s ability relies on caloric intake. Along with meeting standard caloric intake for the human body, the subject must also ingest an incredible amount of calorie dense foods in order to form a layer of β€˜fat’ that builds up to cover the subjects muscles, organs, and other vitals. This fat is able to help prevent otherwise lethal wounds from entering the body. The more β€˜fat’ that his body produces the stronger and denser it becomes. It can of course built up over time, though due to the dosages of ketamine used to restrain the subject his heart beats irregularly fast and so he requires more calories in order to keep up.

The subject is restrained via a metal collar on his neck, metal prods used to lightly electrify the subject when getting our of hand, and needles perpetually inserted into his neck in order to dose with tranquilizers. A slot in the back can be unlocked and slid open in order to β€˜reload’ the collar with liquid tranquilizer.
While this collar has caused long-term cardiac damage, it has served the purpose of keeping the subject restrained.
Strengths: surviving bites / slashes with minimal damage
Weaknesses: bullets/guns, lack of calorie/food
 

Attachments

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Survivor.















full name

Weston Theo Willingham






alias

Wes, "Willie"






age

28






gender

Male






pronounds

He/Him/His






sexuality

Bi-curious






d.o.b.

April 30th, 2005






place of birth

London, England. Eventually moved to South Carolina.


















style








































height

5'10"






weight

145lbs






hair

Brown with natural golden highlights, in the summertime can appear more blonde from natural sun bleaching.






eyes

Blue but can sometimes look Grey






Build

Average, a bit underweight but still holds enough muscle mass that is defined which is more visible without a shirt on.






dist. features

Freckles.






scars

Just various small ones from simple accidents while helping to build traps or other things to keep infected out. A few from carelessness as a child, one on the top of his right knee from falling off a bike, another from falling out of a tree.






face claim

Froy Gutierrez



































Day I Was Born




Brother Dege











req.

req.














"When you don't understand something, just keep taking it apart and putting it back together until you do." - Alfred Grissom



Personality: Weston is what you would call a β€œgood ole country boy”. He’s respectful, helpful and always willing to protect those around him even if it puts him in greater harm. He’s not well read, but he knows how to do a lot of manual fixing of almost any kind of contraption. He’s got a good engineering mind and loves to come up with new ways to build traps to keep the infected at bay. He’s a great listener and shoulder to cry on with how empathetic he can be–but he’s tough and knows when to make those tough calls.

Virtues: Helpful, Respectful, Empathetic

Vices: Carelessness, Stupid Bravery, Puts too much on himself to a point of a detriment to his well-being.

Moral Alignment: Lawful Good

Skills: Building/Engineering traps/buildings, Skinning/Cleaning animals, Gardening/Field work

Hobbies: Tinkering, cleaning/sharpening weapons (guns, knives, machetes), Meditating

Ailments: None that he’s aware of, othering being slightly underweight

Fears: Losing people he cares about (again), Having to kill unnecessarily, Falling in love














likes


Country music, Toast with lots of butter, Summer nights, Sound of Cicadas, Building traps, Smell of honeysuckles & moss.








dislikes


Dishonor, Disrespect, Any kind of green vegetable, People making fun of his accent.








quirks


Tends to blabber about nonsense when he's around someone he finds attractive. Still learning on how to read better. Will make up lyrics if he doesn't know the real ones. A bit clumsy. Tends to blush whenever someone points out his freckles.
















pers.

pers.
















birth



Weston was born to a posh family on a sunny April morning. He was an only child to his mum and dad, growing up in Kensington and Chelsea; his life was pretty easy. He had one of the best nannies, he went to expensive private academies–well until he was seven years old. His parents were killed in a car accident from a drunk cab driver coming into their lane. Unable to swerve out of the way, there was no choice but a collison. His parents were killed on impact and didn’t suffer; but that never really could console the young Weston.

After that, the only living relative he had was his Grandfather on his Mum’s side; he lived in Beaufort, South Carolina. So, he moved across the Atlantic a great sum of 4,115 miles away from the only home he had known up until that point. He didn’t even know he had a Grandfather that lived in the United States since his Mum didn’t talk about him much. His Dad’s parents died before he was born and he didn’t have any aunts or uncles to account for.

His lifestyle changed dramatically; going from one of obvious luxury to working class. He was taught to get up before the sun, tend to the fields, hunt, fish–all those things that the average country boy had to learn. Living on a farm in practically the middle of nowhere with the nearest neighbor five miles or more away. It was just him and his estranged Grandfather–who didn’t always have a lot to say, but he wasn’t particularly harsh when he spoke. Weston attempted to ask about why he was never told about him but all he could say was that the past was in the past for a reason. He never asked about their relationship ever again after that. And after one drunken night his Grandfather had cried and confessed how much he had missed his daughter and every time he heard Weston talk, he was reminded of her. He became quieter after that, only speaking when necessary–but eventually over time he started to pick up more on his Grandfather’s southern accent; one his Grandfather became accustomed to from living in South Carolina for over thirty years himself. Now, he had a bit of London meets South Carolina accent but as time went on, it was more Southern than English.









part. 2



Soon after turning eight, about six months afterwards, the world started to go to hell–that’s the way his Grandfather put it. The towns were getting it the worst since the population was much more dense than the outskirts and farmlands. Reports of neighbors attacking each other, killing and eating one another. It was the end of times. Weston and his Grandfather quickly went into survival mode; grabbing supplies, the extra food they either farmed or gathered in bulk from the stores and got them into the basement of the main house. They locked up the sheds, the barns, and reinforced weak spots in the fencing around the property as much as they could. It was still some time before the infection spread to their neck of the woods–to the farmlands and since the houses were so far apart it was almost like they were untouchable.

But if disease didn’t get to them, it sure didn’t stop from raiders or thieves trying to get to their supplies. People had a funny way of turning on their neighbors in times of crisis. Even still, Weston and his Grandfather did what they could to help their immediate neighbors when they could. Going with them on supply runs for the extra hands and protection. Working with them to tend to fields so they could still grow crops–mostly things that were noticeable like low baring vegetables, and earthy vegetables such as potatoes, yams and the like. Every so often they would grow enough corn to last a few seasons but tried to keep from making obvious signs that there was life on these farms.

Eventually though, it became safer to move into one household, so by the time Weston was barely a teenager, he had two other families that lived with him and his Grandfather. Their families were also small. The Graingers that lived to the left of them; Sarah, Thompson and their son Dale. The Holmesteds that lived to the right of them; Marcia, Gregory and their two daughters Talia and Jessine. But the other kids were a good bit older than Weston. They all worked together to keep safe and survive for as long as possible. They didn’t know when the world was going to get right again but at least they had their little island.

When Weston was old enough to hunt, his Grandfather taught him everything that he knew about shooting an animal, skinning and cleaning the meat up. How to preserve the meat and cook it. Weston hated the idea of having to kill anything–despite not having a choice in the environment he was now growing up in. However, he was lucky enough that there was an older boy and three grownups that could do most of the hunting and he would help with the rest. His Grandfather never gave him any issues with that, finding it better to keep his Grandson as innocent as long as he could; especially in this dangerous world he had to grow up in.

But death and disease always had a way of finding every living thing on this planet, no matter how safe you thought you were.

During a supply run, Gregory was in the back of a pharmacy looking for any medicines they needed to restock up on, in a town that was an hour or so away from home, completely unfamiliar with his surroundings–he was attacked by some grotesque looking undead. It’s once upon a time face covered in weird fungus like boils; he couldn’t explain it any other way. He was bitten, attacked so quickly he had no idea the zombie was even there. However, not wanting to be killed, and didn’t think it was that bad of a bite–or that deep–he covered the wound and didn’t tell anyone.

Time was a funny enemy to the remaining survivors of the world. The ones that still had their humanity. It was both vague and short. To a small group turned community in a span of a few years it almost seemed like time was vague since the infection never reached their front door itself. But all it took was one small bite and time turned from seamlessly ongoing to none existent within only two days.

Gregory had changed so rapidly that it was almost like a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. It happened in the middle of the night, when all were tucked to bed, safe in the comfort that they were protected at this middle of nowhere farm. He was so fast, so terribly ill and mad with infection. In a rampage that could only be described as inhuman, he attacked his family that shared the room with him. First his wife Marcia, then his first daughter Jessine–at their screams, Talia was able to scramble her way out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her, but it wasn’t enough to completely block Gregory. The house awoke, up in arms quickly and all tried to win against this fight–but he was just too fast.

Weston and his Grandfather made their way out of the house, making a plan to hide out in one of the barns but in the adrenaline of trying to unlock the barn, Gregory attacked. He got to Weston’s Grandfather first, as he pushed him aside to save him. He tried to shoot Gregory while he was down, but found himself quickly without bullets. He fought him off as best he could, holding him at bay, yelling for Weston to run as far as he could. Weston could only stand there in horrified shock at this man he began to see as an uncle attack and kill everyone in the house. He stood behind him, raising the shotgun his Grandfather taught him to shoot not that long ago in shaky hands and pulled the trigger. It was a perfect shot–the first one he had made yet. Gregory’s body fell on top of his Grandfather’s and he scrambled to help pull it off.

But neither of them were fast enough to avoid the chunk of flesh that Gregory had bitten off of his Grandfather. Weston stared at the wound, sobbing. Finally, his Grandfather, calmed him down enough to tell him what he needed to do. He needed to kill him, before he turned. He would be fine. He taught him how to survive. He didn’t want to go out like one of those β€œmother fuckers” as he called them. Weston, just barely at the age to learn how to drive, had the task of killing his Grandfather.

Taking the pistol his Grandfather held out to him, he once again, raised the weapon with shaking hands. Bile rose in his throat and with one last whisper β€œYou’ve made me proud, Son.” from his Grandfather, he shot him right in the middle of his forehead. His body slumping back hard against the barn in a sickening thud. Weston cried out loudly, screaming to the sky in a mixture of rage and inconsolable sadness. When he came back to his senses, and with much effort, he got all of the bodies out of the house, shot them all in the head and began the arduous task of digging a hole big enough to put the bodies in and burn them. Something his Grandfather always said to do in the event of this happening.

He lived off of what he could for as long as he could–but eventually manning the farm was too much for a single person and loneliness was beginning to make Weston go mad. He found an old CB radio at a thrift store and was able to rig it up to work. Every so often he would get broadcasted messages from a group called the Fireflies. They would use coded messages to where safe places were. Where supplies and safety were in numbers. After some time, he made the decision to find somewhere else–somewhere with numbers; that was safer.

In his travels, to all the safe houses or small communities that he found, either no one wanted to take him in or they were destroyed by the time he got there. He would hitch rides when he could, just trying to find somewhere to call home for a while. He walked a great many distances, eventually finding himself in Montana to the only sustained community. After making sure he wasn’t infected, they took him in, gave him jobs to do and finally he found somewhere else he could belong. Help those around him, and knowing someone had his back.



















Grandfather





Alfred Benjamin Grissom

Deceased.









Mother





Moira Elizabet Willingham

Deceased.









Father





James Conroy Willingham III

Deceased.













Community Job

Gardening, Trap making, Construction, Odd jobs.






Strengths

Field plowing, Engineering, Manual labor, Skinning/cleaning animals.






Weaknesses

Reading, Killer instinct, not that fast of a runner despite his athletic appearance.













hist.

hist.








scroll














β™‘coded by uxieβ™‘

 
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Name: Dominik Werner (Dawmehneek Vur-nur)
Nickname: Dom, Flee.
Age: 21
Gender: Male.
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: straight
Date of Birth: 10/25/2012
Place of Birth: Charleston, South Carolina.
Role: Runner
VISAGE:
Doe-blue eyes are the only thing you see in the darkness. Bouts of freckles on top of pale skin plaster his face. His inflamed, ecstatic expression curls his lips and squints his eyes into an almost freakish smile.
Height:
5’10
Weight: 139 lbs
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Build:
A skinny, taller kid, with lean features.
Distinguishing Features:
Super bright eyes, which unfortunately makes him photophobic.
Scars:
One across his left eyebrow from an accident during training, running into a wall. Long, almost lightning-like scarring along his back legs, reaching from his thighs to his ankles. His ankles and wrists have a darkening to them from the weights restrained on him constantly.
Face-claim: Charlie Alevara.

yorSbXeae96JKbPs-IfwEYLgyxUY6DKntVSi7LnA7RCsHoWfAm7nRc6xBuqLBbzQfxt98aFHXHPfwqSF231QkOG1GqjoXgKh0sFYLx7Me5GdCALfgsbIt3VWK_n9Uxwu3iHyb_Juoy6j5lJ_fpmURZM
3Hb3mEvYe5-JPK1bnZEZSY-uSrQgrTFWSXTWIJTo1QV6nbKUqHmZQFaovHvx371nQHvDwDXyhoJwuP32tBhoU11GIZAFCny_6diL86gox0uBP6XnqhDKZSKTHP36X_rs83xABlPxI7Cuhfi04JWxvko
iQxvn5wdpzZK_XCjId2Km_5dOiSBFDGCfgAJwVCs_jJm9wDipnzzfvFaf6Fh8fSfNXXxCplrDcNwyiDR_WYYUjaWXH3vsuZJxrun7YGdVjjEOurPCv3jS_AKh3M1xCQZIZZMO90jbZrhx18FFd1uD3g

PSYCHE:
Personality:
An adrenaline junkie, filled with anger and a mischief nature, Dom tries to put on as much external negativity in the forms of sarcasm, harsh commentary, and attempts towards violence. Dom's personality is erratic, stubborn, and independent. He'll take care of himself before even considering helping someone else. That can be whenever he's in a fight-he'll take off and protect himself rather than sacrificing himself. His words are harsh, his exterior is hard, and he hasn't found any opportunity to be a kind and gentle person. He'd much rather attack someone than let them in. This is due to traumas experienced as an experiment. Before becoming one, he'd always had an affiliation with nefarious activities. But, when he became an enhanced individual, his greed for independence expanded further. He feels like his ability to run quickly had always been a part of him. But, since he'd been chained, it really harms his mental health. Any second where he feels like he's being controlled, he goes against it in every way. Internally, he fights every day against his restraints, whether physical or mental. Anything he can do to become β€œfree,” he will make an attempt at it. His trust is put in few other people, and tends to rely on himself. He struggles with listening to hierarchy, and never flies under the radar. His pessimistic personality is trained to protect himself, always. So the anger, violence, and his unreliability, is to push people away. He fears that he will be betrayed if he lets anyone in. An experience of a kind act has never occurred to him. Not since he disappeared from the QZ. All the moves he makes are an exposure of how terrified he really is. It's sad, to watch see someone this dark and to have had a long time since experiencing the light. Someone that is at war with themselves, and unfortunately resulted in projecting this feeling onto others.

Virtues: creative, spontaneous, complex, curiosity.
Vices: distrust, impulsive, defensive, loner.
Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Likes: mischief, deceit, chaos, fast, rain, cats, drawing, flora, (substances), anything he’s not supposed to have, he likes it and wants it.
Dislikes: stillness, reading, meditating, mindfulness, authority.

Headcanons
- He will be a bully to get what he wants
- His tongue is laced with tone and a disdain for authority.
- He's quite terrible at reading people, and will assume that they are against him.
- takes every word spoken to him to the heart.
- will strive to protect himself first.
-His plans are very haphazard; they usually tend to fail and result in punishment
- Hot tempered, and never attempts to calm himself.
-weak in the knees for something sweet
- very light sleeper.
- he begs for the sound of music.
- often disappears if he finds something of interest to him. He'll catch up later.
- has a knack for climbing up structures.
- small acts of kindness are something he craves
- is a hardcore crier-when nobody is looking.
- will try to get everywhere he's not supposed to be.
- loves the sound of beach waves.
- very talented at rowing a boat.
- if he were to attack someone, they would be light and fast attacks and then an escape to safety.

Skills:
Craftiness, making fishhooks (surprisingly), spearfishing, climbing, parkour.
Hobbies:
Fishing, hiking, climbing, making things to either help or harm someone, parkour.
Ailments:
Light sensitivity, lack of upper body strength (only to pull his weight up through momentum)
Fears:
Closed spaces, feeling β€œtrapped.” Lack of escape.
HISTORY:
Backstory:
Before being captured, Dom’s affiliation with his father’s business and hobbies of fishing was the only way he would slow down and think about himself. He’d spend his time off jumping from building-hopping with his best friends, trying to find contraband wherever they went. Selling pills just to get by. Many a night he was caught out past curfew and spent a few nights in the community jail. His skills for climbing and jumping fed into his obsession with being a town rascal. In the QZ, he would help his father with his work, while becoming fairly acquainted with spears, fishhooks, and other forms of fishing gear. His mother, fixed up motorcycles and vehicles for FEDRA members to use. So, his days consisted of fishing during the tides with his father, and while waiting for the tides to come, he tested, and helped his mother build vehicles. But, what was in those vehicles, his mother also worked on as well. One end, she was selling well-used, run down vehicles to FEDRA. But, inside, a few missing wires, pipes, that may or may not have caused explosions within the vehicles when the RPM reached over 4,000. He was surprised that FEDRA employees never noticed the peak of the Firefly tattoo on his mother’s arm. But, unfortunately, she was caught one day, months after Dominik disappeared. She was executed, and his father has been a drunken wreck since.

When he was captured and transformed into an immune beast, he realized that the abilities he received allowed an external connection to how he felt internally. A way to escape, a way to fight, and a way to be free. But, Haven's restriction of his skills makes him feel trapped. His desperate need to run free, with the grass below his feet and the breeze almost carrying him, makes him hate Haven with a burning passion.
Family:
Mary Werner, 51 (deceased)
Cassian Werner, 46.
Relationships:
(open)
EXPERIMENT FILE:
Ability: superhuman-speed
Strengths: able to move lightning fast, strike quickly and get away.
Weaknesses: only able to do so in short bursts, needing time to recover before striking again.

​
 
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{ GENERAL }
N a m e | Castor Ellis (alias. Call him Castor, or call him nothing.)
R o l e | Shambler
A g e | 23, est. 2010
G e n d e r | Male, He/Him, Homosexual
O r i g i n | Denver

{ VISAGE }
P h y s i c a l . D e s c r i p t i o n | Warm golden to pale skin, dark brown-black eyes and hair. Well toned body, his naturally lean physique was honed into one more befitting of a super soldier; muscled and strong and agile, but not a brick wall. Castor stands 6ft, 6'2 when he's got his shit kicker boots on. Always wearing fingerless gloves. Wears lots of rings. Occasionally wears makeup, charcoal shadow anyone?
D e s t i n g u i s h i n g . F e a t u r e s | Bullet hole scars near his collar bone, bottom left of his midsection, and as well as across the top of his ear.
O u t f i t . I n s p o | X - X - X - X - X - X - X

{ PSYCHE }
P e r s o n a l i t y | Over all, he is very level headed. He often chooses to be an observer, spending time learning the quirks and mannerisms of people around him, so that he can tell them exactly what they might want to hear. Frequently charming, and always useful. In fact, he makes it his mission to be needed by everyone. What if they decide he's not needed and they get rid of him? That's definitely not the one thing he's anxious about. Not at all. He avoids all physical contact with people, even if he does insert himself into their lives. He doesn't push boundaries, but lives within them (or outside of them), until he can find a way through them. Sometimes obsessive over his looks. His desperation to be truly accepted and loved will probably be his downfall.

V i r t u e s | Tolerance, Loyalty, Kindness, Protectiveness
V i c e s | Envy, Vanity, Possessiveness, Dishonesty, Anxiety

L i k e s | Being around people. Quiet moments. Animals. Any form of physical contact and attention. Petrichor.
D i s l i k e s | Talking about himself. Hurting livings.

M o r a l . A l i g n m e n t | True Neutral

S k i l l s | Crafting. Getting information out of people.
H o b b i e s | Hobbies? He's too busy making sure everyone else has access to their hobbies, and that they like him.... but also, flower crowns for everyone.

F e a r s | Forgetting to wear his gloves and accidently killing someone because of it. Being alone. Being kicked out of the community. Being unwanted. Dark places.
Q u i r k s | Spins his rings around his fingers constantly. When he's nervous, his pointer finger taps out patterns on his thumb. Can fall asleep anywhere, cat naps constantly.

{ HISTORY }
B a c k s t o r y | Castor spent the majority of his life in the Denver QZ as a straggler without a real home. He had parents, so he escaped FEDRA's preparatory schools, but that didn't mean they were good to him. He doesn't really talk about them, or his past life much. Needing to survive in spite of them is how he became so good at reading people and getting things not everyone in his same situation could have been afforded. In other words, he's absolutely sweet talked his way into more than one bread crumb meal. Unfortunately, around his 18 birthday, his interest in getting scraps went awry, leading to his capture, containment, and then use as as a science experiment, where he became the acidic thing he is today.
F a m i l y | N/A
R e l a t i o n s h i p s | Friendship: Entirely Open... preferably everyone. Romantic: NA / Planned with Yuki

{ EXPERIMENT FILE}
A b i l i t y | This experiment is able to secrete acid from the palms of their hands without any affect to them. Specialized gloves are to be locked in place over the experiments hands outside of testing hours.
S t r e n g t h s | Very corrosive. Able to inflict severe burns onto living flesh. Mixed with water and misted over plants, the acid can cause rapid nutrient loss and death in some plants and also incapacitate those with upper respiratory failures like bronchitis and asthma, leading to permeant lung dumb. Able to make small bodies of water temporarily unusable, or poisonous.
W e a k n e s s e s | Excitable without gloves, this intense emotion shift causes the experiment to lose control of himself, resulting in too much acidic production and subsequent injury to unintended targets. Certain chemical reactions started by the experiment's acid can be volatile.
da3f9c4ad61a4d0ff3a8dacdd741d87a.jpg
 
BASICS
Name: John Raymond Wayne
Nickname: Ray
Age: 45
Gender: M
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Straight (Closeted Pan)
Date of Birth: 03/10/1988
Place of Birth: Dallas, Texas
Role: Survivor

1703035709164.png

VISAGE:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 165 Lbs
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Build: Skinny
Distinguishing Features:
Scars: Burns scars on his hands and up his left forearm, a gash on his left shoulder, and shrapnel woulda on his back.
Face-claim: James Gandolfini

1703035760911.png

PSYCHE:
Personality: An apple that certainly didn't fall far from the tree, Ray is just as crude and cynical as his grandfather, known for his awful jokes that just happen to crack a smile. However, since adjusting to civilian life, he's learned to be more reserved with his humor, though his filter less comments remain. It's also good to note that he finds are hard time connecting with people.

Virtues: Reliable, Loyal, Problem-solver
Vices: Risk taker, Addict, Anxious, Depressed
Moral Alignment: CG
Likes: Drinking, Story time, Work, Good humor
Dislikes: Being around others, being seen
Skills: Weapon handling and maintenance, hand to hand combat, stealth work
Hobbies: Reading, attempts at brewing alcohol, growing tobacco plants
Ailments: Tobacco Addiction, Neuropathy of the hands, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Fears: He fears that he'll sink lower than he already has. That he'll somehow find a way to bring further shame on his name, on his former role as a Marine.

1703035796512.png

HISTORY:

Backstory:
To say Ray had a happy childhood would be a blatant lie. Between boy scout meetings and beatings from his father, Ray had no real passions in his early years, as he was the release for 20+ years of his father's pent up anger, frustration, and issues. His only release was when his father, a soldier in the US Army, would deploy. But even then his deployments never lasted forever, and he was soon subject to the torment. Life wouldn't change for Ray until he went to middle school, and would discover a responsibility to others when one day after school he noticed a smaller boy being bullied. He laid all three of the bigger kids out, and soon got the attention of the school's teachers. He would keep a reputation for the kind of guy who stuck up for others up until high school, where he'd join the football team and play as a star tight end.

By the time of his Junior year, his mother had left him and his father, and Wayne Jr, his dad, would find it hard to control his anger. One night, he snapped. The usual beating became too intense, and finally, Ray couldn't take it anymore. The police report said that Wayne Jr had "fell off the front porch", but the whole neighborhood knew the truth that resulted in the old man going into a coma with several broken bones. Needing a way out of town to put his past behind him once and for all, Wayne joined a rock band, and played as an opening bassist for Corb Lund. A year later, at 18, he joined the US Marine Corps.

He'd go on to become a Scout Sniper, work a short but notable career as an expert marksman, and earn respect within his unit. Two deployments to Iraq were filled with IEDs, firefights, and shit show after shit show. His career was ended when an ambush sent his Humvee belly side up, and he had to crawl out from the flames. Months of physical therapy wouldn't give him full usage of his hands even after his discharge.

When his time was up, he felt... Lost. He visited his mother, who mentioned a long lost grandfather in Seattle. He gave the old man a call, and asked to stay with him just until he got back on his feet. In Seattle, he tried to become a cop, but this fell by the wayside as his physical restrictions and issues with test taking kept him out of the academy. Still figuring out a plan b, he got a temporary job as an armed security guard. That was a year before shit hit the fan. One shit fell apart, he lived with his grandfather, keeping him safe. Gramps would tell him stories and keep him company, and Wayne would offer protections and banter. They were an inseparable duo.

Living in Polson, they educated the community on weapons and their maintenance. They taught trade craft like drill instructors, giving their insight to the guards and hunters of the community. That was until Wayne Senior died. Natural causes. In his sleep. There was a small ceremony, and Ray said that the Reaper had to take the old man sleeping, because if he was awake, then he'd have put up a helluva fight. And just like that, Ray was lost. He lost purpose. He still did his job, but it lacked any meaning, like he was just going through the motions.

1703035836402.png

Family:

Sarah Wayne- His Grandmother (Deceased)
John Wayne Jr - His Father (Deceased)
Jessica Wayne-Person - Mother (Unknown)
John Wayne Sr - Grandfather (Deceased)

Relationships:

None

COMMUNITY FILE: (Remove if creating an Immune character)
Job within the community: Community Armorer
Strengths: Physical strength, weapon handing, hand to hand combat
Weaknesses: Mentally vulnerable, addict
 
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BASICS
Name: Cheryl Platt
Nickname: Cherry, "Red"
Age: 42
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Date of Birth: 4/21/1981
Place of Birth: Madison, Wisconsin
Role: Survivor
a4cb6221b7330d1f6749d14e0e2bffef.gif

VISAGE:
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 139 lbs
Hair: "Cherry" Red (har har get it)
Eyes: green
Build: Skinny, with lean muscle built from working on ranches her whole life.
Distinguishing Features: She has a single tattoo, of a horseshoe, on her left ankle. It was very poorly done, since tattoo equipment wasn't readily available in the survivor's camp. She was also very drunk.
Scars: Classic farm scars along the arms and legs, bulled wound scar on her left shoulder. Peppered scars of shrapnel from an explosion she experienced along her upper chest and face.
Face-claim: Bryce Dallas Howard
79e5407e9d5a5bf664120d4a8bfb8e2d.jpg

PSYCHE:
Personality:
A tough, hard-shelled exterior with a soft and gooey center. People who just meet her, see one hardcore woman, who's been through some tough things. Blunt, stubborn, and protective is written all over her face. Anger, never seen with her. More so- cool, calculated, but will raise her voice if an idea concerns her beyond her limit. Cheryl's instinctive thoughts are to "protect her children," as in, the camp survivors. She has no fear when it comes to outside the walls of the camp, and will always, always, protect the younger camp members. No matter if they're older than 18, she will always treat them like "young'ins," So she calls them. A sweet, southern woman when you get close to her. A cold, killing heart if you stab her in the back.
Virtues: protective, calculated, resourceful, well-mannered, reliable, supportive.
Vices: blunt, rigid, (sometimes overbearing).
Moral Alignment: Lawful Good
Likes: baking, cooking, riding her horse, tea, reading, organizing, Sudoku, comfortable silence, wind chimes, honey butter, shooting, hunting, working in the fields, picking fresh fruits, "smellin' the roses." Optimism, reason, and people who listen and value her experience.
Dislikes: Rebellion, surprises, hammocks, long nails, people who can't make a decision, unreliability, loud noises during quiet time, beer, camp drama.
Hobbies:
Horse riding: she really likes riding a horse (what else can i say)
Shooting: Specifically a repeater or a hunting rifle.
Knitting/Crocheting: She's a whiz on the sticks.
Sudoku: She really loves it if someone comes back from scavenging with a puzzle for her. She won't tell you though.
Farm activities: She finds an inner peace in caring for animals.
Butchering: She can hack an animal into a million pieces.
Ailments: She's not a very fast runner, but on horseback she's deadly.
Fears: she is terrified of heights, "I never even been on a plane."

ae9ea54103325101530edf3d2cabfc15.gif

HISTORY:
Backstory:
Growing up in Wisconsin, her family's business contained mostly farm work and ranching. Some would say that Red was born on horseback. Finishing school in 8th grade, she doesn't have much education in reading, writing, and math. But, she's learned over the years spent with her mother how to do those things "well 'nough." Her accent, and unfinished words suggest that she's uneducated, but this sweet woman knows enough about farm life to beat another any day. When the first infected was released to the public, she had no worries. Her family was tucked sweetly away in the country and knew that there couldn't be a possibility in something that drastic happening. But, when the first plane crashed down near her farm, and the infected ransacked her home in a disastrous affair, she knew that it was very possible. After escaping on horseback with little possessions, she had to resort to killing her husband and child, for they were bitten in the battle. There, starving, alone, and lost-she knew nowhere else to go. But, she found some neighbors who also escaped, and joined them to find solace. Years later, they found the camp and those living there were kind enough to take her and her neighbors in.
Family:
now her immediate family, no one knows the names or stories of. She's never mentioned it. "I'll tell you 'bout it when you're older," she'd always say.
Husband: deceased
kids (4): deceased

Neighbors
Larry Skart: deceased (died from disease in camp)
Polly Skart: deceased (never reported back while scouting)
children (2): lost while escaping their ranch

Relationships: wip

Job within the community: "tagalong" (her skills in shooting make her good protection going outside the walls + hunting, her butchering is needed to both teach and get done quickly, but when she's not helping someone else, she's working on the farm.)
Strengths: Horse riding, shooting, exploration, farm working.
Weaknesses: hand-hand combat, strength, stamina.​
 
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BASICS
Name: Robyn Choi
Nickname: Rob
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Bisexual
Date of Birth: 03-02
Place of Birth: Dallas Texas
Role: The Rat King

VISAGE:
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 140
Hair: Black/Brown
Eyes: Black/Brown
Build: Slender with muscles - Since entering Polson Robyn has created a routine of building muscle to be able to weild heavy and sharp maces. The muscles have been prominantly in her arms and shoulders. She also dabbles in boxing, and kickboxing considering the weapon of preference is in very close proximidy to Zombies.
Distinguishing Features: Rob has a sharp bone structure with high cheekbones, and a sharp jawline curve. This structure creates an oval shape face with an emphasis on the eyes.
Scars: There are scars all around her neck from the shock collar that was placed on her 4 out of the 5 years in Haven. Not only had she attempted to take the collar off by force more han a handful of times, but the material used for the collar chaffed the skin around her neck enough to crust over permanently. The area is rough and bumpy to the touch.
Face-claim:
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Outfit(s):
Casual Everyday Wear:
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Winter wear idea:
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Under all of the top garments:
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PSYCHE:
Personality:
  • Virtues:
    • Cheerful
    • Enthusiastic
    • Emphathetic
    • Witty
    • Sarcastic
    • Alluring
  • Vices:
    • Extreme Mood Swings
    • Impulsive
    • Feeling of Emptiness
    • Dissociation
Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Likes:
  • Stargazing
  • Singing
  • Sunsets/Sunrises
  • The sound of rain
  • Bird whistles
Dislikes:
  • Bullying
  • Cold
  • Being alone
  • White: White rooms, white walls, white snow
  • Doctors
  • The sound of of buzzing electricity: She would hear the constant stream of electricity running throughout her collar
  • Staying still
Skills: She picked up boxing when joing the Quarantine Zone, and she partners with others in the town interested in a casual brawl. She also works on kickboxing moves, and trains using only different sized mace/clubs.

Hobbies:
  • Exercising
  • Helping when needed
  • Organizing anything and everything
  • Wood carving
  • Pottery
  • Any Handicraft
Ailments:
  • Borderline Personality Disorder
  • Smoking Addiction
  • Twitching: due to the shocks she had received for years Robyns body twitches at random. They're subtle twitches, but enough to be noticable.
  • Stuttering: Because of the twitches she'll stutter her words.

Fears: Being unable to maintain control - not having control of the situation, herself, her surroundings.

HISTORY:
Backstory:

Before HAVEN:
Robyn was born in Dallas Texas to a loving family home. Her father dabbled in the teach world as a computr engineer, and her mother worked in the banking industry as a private banker. Both of their income allowed for a nice 5 bedroom home in the wealthier suburbs of Dallas, and along with that a positive future where no one would have to suffer. Her brother was already reaping the benefits as he was placed in a private elementary school where he was exceedingly good at being a goofball. Though he was the class clown there was nothing bad anyone could say about him as he was a straight A student, a perfect brother, and a good kid overall. He had set the expectation when she was born, but that expectation could never be met as Robyn was born only 2 years before the fungus outbreak.

She has no memory of what happened during that time, or what her brother went through. More times han not he would talk to her about the events that had unfolded with sorrowful distant eyes. How their father was nowhere to be found, their mother panicking and loading them into one of their vehicles. How they had to ditch their car and run for their lives towards the woods, stopping only to look behind at all the chaos unfolding in the streets. The 3 of them walking for hours through the woods, and running away from people who weren't themselves anymore; zombies is what we labeled them. His voice would trail off as he slipped back into the horror of it all. The only thing she could do was snap her brother back to reality through a hug, and a reassurance that she would do whatever she could to support him. As she grew older she was trying to support her brother, but she was just a kid herself.

Her brother never explained everything he had went through when she was little, but what she did remember was how a zombie had looked. The only thing she remembered was how frightened she was to see a human turn feral. To realize that zombies used to be human caused her nightmares. They had managed not to get bit, and when FEDRA was gathering the uninfected thats how they found themselves in the Dallas Quaratine Zone. While there, he found work as a FEDRA soldier, and their lives were subpar to say the least. Being with FEDRA had it's perks as well as its drawbacks but she made the most of the situation. Though she didn't agree wih everything her brother was doing she still loved him nonetheless. While there Robyn got in with the rough crownd a few times, and would meddle in with the bootleggers. There was a network of underground dealing that she was involved in, and would get caught from time to time as she grew older.

One day she had stumbled into a rumor that Fireflies were planning something big. Normally Robyn wouldn't pay much thought to rumors, but this was from a trusted source. Considering what to do Robyn talked to her brother to see if they should stay, or find a way out. He was against leaving as their life was good where they were. He had established himself well in FEDRA, and if he continued they would never have to worry about scraping for food. Robyn was against staying, and they argued. That afternoon he had left, and as the Dallas Zone fell so did her brother. A bullet straight to the head is all it took for her to lose the one person who had protected her from anything and everything. Not zombies, but a single bullet.

She couldn't reach her brother as there was chaos everywhere, so she ran as far as she could go. She evaded being killed herself, and wandered. She wandered, and then continued wandering. She wandered, and then raged. Her anger, hatred, and grief was overwhelmgly painful. In this time she stumbled on a group of survivors, and joined them on their route to Denver Colorado. The plan was for her to join FEDRA like her bother, and take out as many fireflies as she could. Until she was kidnapped.

DURING HAVEN:
On being caught there were things set in motion that she had no idea of. These Docs never once explained themselves. At least she called them Docs because she didn't know what else to call them. during her 5 years she was exposed to inhumane conditions. They injected mysterious substances in her body that she had no idea of, and the reactions that came from it were painful to say the least. They would run tests after test after another test, and would even force feed due to the rebellious spurts she had. The first few months she almost acted like a feral animal to the point of slamming her body against the walls. They would sedate her, and repeat all of the processes once again.

When an ability started to peak through she took advantage of the situation and attempted a handful of escapes. The 3rd escape atempt had almost released everyone from their cells, so this prompted the team assigned to her a task. How to contain subject Rat K No.3? They invented a specialized shock collar that triggered a poweful electric current at the smallest sign of her using her ability. For months she had reisisted the collar, but the more she resisted the stronger the shocks came. Her scream could be heard down the halls as the shocks were also remote controlled by the Docs. This tamed her, and she could no longer cause trouble. Because of this they let her back out into the regular cells to continue their testing. At this point she was less than half of who she used to be.

When there was a containment breach Robyn was laying in her cell counting the amount of princks she had that day. Nothing else had mattered. Hearing the sirens snapped her out of the daze, and seeing the other run out of their cells brought a newfound hope that she had not experience since...ever. Due to the shock that she had been experiencing over the years Robyn instantly felt nauseous when the sun hit her. She stared to get a migrane, and fell to the ground as everything started to blur. The hope she had experienced was going away, and in its place was only darkness. In a split second someone was tugging her away. A boy helped her gain some distance with the facility, but he left her by a tree to continue running. The cold air snapped her back to the current situation, and she was able to find a few of the others. Once together they ran as far as they could with the strength they had at the time.

She wasn't sure what happened to that boy, but she would have loved to thank him as she ended up in a wonderful place.

A true Haven.

Family:
Relationships:

EXPERIMENT FILE:
Ability: Robyn is immune to fire, and can control already existing flames.
  • Strengths: Is immune to fire, and can control exisitng fire in a 5 mile radius.
  • Weaknesses: Is extremely sensative to cold temperatures.
 
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MIYU NAGASE
role: the runner ; faceclaim: serena motola ; trigger warnings: boop

BASICS
Name: Miyu Nagase
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/they
Sexuality: Pansexual
Date of Birth: 17th November
Place of Birth: The QZ in Atlanta
Role: The Runner

VISAGE:
Height: 5'2"
Hair: Her hair is long and dark brown with a natural wave to it. It's often tied back during testing to keep it out of her eyes.
Eyes: Her eyes are dark brown, almost appearing black in certain lights. Her eyes look a little tired with bags underneath them.
Build: Despite being short, she still has a lanky look to her, with slim limbs and long fingers. Her body type would be described as "rectangle."
Distinguishing Features: Miyu has lots of freckles on her face, shoulders and arms. She developed these before she was taken to the Haven lab in Polson, Montana, as she hasn't seen much sun since.
Scars: She has thick scarring around her wrists and ankles from the weighted cuffs used to stop her from moving too far. She also has a small scar on the bridge of her nose from tripping and hitting her face on the corner of a table.

PSYCHE:
Personality: Miyu tends to keep herself to herself, hesitant to befriend new people after her experiences at the lab. Previously, though she'd had issues making friends at school, she'd never had anyone hurt her or give her reason not to trust them. She has become much more isolated since then. However, she still has a soft spot for animals, believing it to be almost impossible for them to be actively malicious... Animals attack for a reason, reasons she can understand much better than in humans. She was known to befriend the feral cats kept to kill the pests around the farm, even if they weren't keen on physical affection. When she has grown to trust someone, she can be quite dependent on them. As she finds it difficult to make new friends, she doesn't want to leave the ones she has behind, making her a little clingy at times. She was always loyal to her family, especially after her mother went missing. She wanted to do everything she could to help them, spending a lot of her free time outside of school working to make sure they had enough food. She craves physical affection, something her family weren't particularly good at, but somewhat fears it, too. She hasn't known a kind touch since arriving at the lab and fears affection may turn to violence. Though her main priority at the moment is survival, she does daydream about settling down with someone she can really trust.

Virtues:
+ Gentle
Miyu was always the kind of person to gently take spiders outside in a cup rather than squish them. She was good with the children in the QZ, even if she couldn't communicate with them in a way they were used to. She was part of a FEDRA training program but was always bottom of her class when it came to sparring and combat training. She was, however, a talented runner.
+ Studious
Miyu got a lot of joy out of reading. However, the QZ only had so many books and, once the fiction was out of the way, she was left with only the FEDRA training manuals. She was knowledgeable when it came to the theory of combat and weaponry, which worked in her favor as she couldn't exactly hear her teachers.
+ Hard Working
Miyu worked hard to make sure her family had enough food, getting a job outside of school hours.
+ Adventurous
Though Miyu was always a little nervous about sneaking out to explore the surrounding area with her friends, she did always enjoy it once they were there... She misses seeing all the old abandoned buildings.

Vices:
- Hesitant
Miyu was always hesitant. Lacking a sense, she has to be more vigilant. In an open area where she can see everything, her sprinting skills come in handy. However, in a stealth situation, she's not much use.
- Dependent
Miyu often had to depend on her friends in the training program, especially when breaking rules.
- Skeptical
Miyu has become slow to trust due to her time in the lab. She's fearful around new people and prefers to keep them at arms length.
- Childish
Rather than growing up quickly to cope with the world around her, Miyu did the opposite. She loves a good teddy bear or lego set.

Moral Alignment: Lawful Good. Miyu wasn't a particularly co-operative test subject when she was first taken to the labs as a teen. Being deaf, she couldn't hear their instructions, making following orders very difficult. Due to the punishments she received as a teen, she has become a strict rule-follower.

Likes:
+ Animals
Though there weren't a vast amount of livestock in the QZ in Atlanta, she spent as much time with them as she could. She especially loves horses, but has never had chance to learn to ride.
+ Reading
Miyu knows a lot of random fun facts from reading every book, pamphlet and manual she could get her hands on. This occasionally came in handy in the QZ, but she lacked the practical experience most of the time.
+ Bass-boosted music
Although Miyu can't really enjoy music the same way as most people, she can feel the vibrations of music when they're bass boosted. She also enjoys placing her hand on speakers when music is playing so she can feel it.
+ Keeping trinkets and keepsakes
Miyu can be nostalgic at times and kept many of her mother's belongings to remember her by. However, these were left behind when she was taken to the lab.

Dislikes:
- Flashing Lights
- The texture of chewy, tough meat
- The taste of BBQ sauce
- The feeling of chalk

Skills: Fast reader, good with finicky tasks that require dexterous hands, highly observant, creative, artistic, a talented painter.
Hobbies: Reading, painting, dancing (though not particularly well), spending time with the livestock.
Ailments: Miyu was born legally deaf, though she retains a small amount of hearing. She can only hear very loud, low frequencies. She began to suffer with insomnia after escaping the lab as she is afraid of not being able to see or hear a threat.
Fears: Losing her sight (including blindfolds, someone covering her eyes etc.), the dark, being touched without warning.

HISTORY:
Backstory: Miyu was born in the infirmary of the Atlanta QZ with a healthy set of lungs, which she promptly used to scream the house down. However, this sound was a relief to her mother. After a long, difficult pregnancy, she was overjoyed to hear her baby cry. Ema had been a skilled scavenger but, as she grew sick during her pregnancy, she had had a maternity leave of sorts, spending her time resting. Staying still for so long had been difficult for her but now her baby was here, she felt like she had purpose again!

However, she began to notice differences in her child. She didn't seem to react to loud noises, she didn't notice when her mother returned to a room until she entered her line of sight and, by age 1, she still hadn't said her first words. Ema took her back to the medics multiple times but her concerns were often ignored and she was branded as just another anxious mother. It wasn't until she was 16 months old that the medics finally determined that she was deaf.

Ema was reluctant to go back to scavenging now she had a child but knew she had to pay her way in the QZ. Once she was sure Miyu could read simple words, she left her with her aunt, Akari, while she went to work. The QZ had a school for children, focusing on reading, writing and mathmatics, before leading onto combat once they were older. Miyu struggled in these classes, unable to hear her teacher, so spent her younger years playing catch-up for what she missed in school. She quickly found fun in reading and writing, one of the only ways she could communicate, and spent her childhood reading every book she could find in the QZ.

When Miyu was 6, her mother and her team didn't return from a scavenging trip. Miyu took this hard as her mother had always been incredibly patient with her education. The two had been very close despite Ema being away on trips so often. Akari adopted her as her own, doing her best to fill the hole her mother had left behind.

Miyu was eventually enrolled in the military school. There was initially hope that she had inherited some of her mother's coveted skills but, seeing how she performed in combat, these dreams were quickly shattered. Sneak attacks were a consistent threat to someone who was deaf, she simply couldn't hear them coming. However, she was highly knowledgeable on the theory of weaponry, military tactics and history. Team sports also seemed to be an issue for Miyu and the more competitive students groaned when she was on their side. The only sport she seemed to be good at was track, a solo sport that only required running.

Miyu had a few friends at the school, though due to her limited methods of communication, many other students were reluctant to befriend her. Emily was one of her closest friends and, according to Akari, was a bad influence. The two, along with their friends Jack and Lily, would sneak out at night using abandoned buildings that FEDRA had cleared out but hadn't utilized for anything. Their favourite spot was the shopping district close to the QZ where they could window shop and find knick-knacks that were useless to most scavengers.

To try and earn her family a little more food, Miyu had begun working with the livestock outside of school. She quickly earned a good reputation with her supervisor, proving to be hard working and reliable. He soon trusted her with completing nightly checks on her own, allowing him to go to bed just a little earlier. This was where she was last seen.

Miyu had been an easy target for the Haven: Alone, unskilled in combat, and unable to hear them coming. However, it didn't make her an easy test subject. She was extremely panicked when she arrived, having had her vision impaired to hide the location of the facility. She couldn't understand their instructions, and her fear made her lash out, using her limited combat skills against the researchers. As a consequence, she was often physically punished and spent a lot of time in her shackles.

She endured many injuries during testing due to her limited control of her abilities. Prior to her training, she found herself moving too fast for her to keep up with, slamming into walls and objects. In the five years she has been at Haven, she has learned to use her abilities to her advantage.

Family:
- Haru Nagase: Miyu's older cousin. The two didn't get on particularly well as Haru wasn't particularly keen to have a new member join the family.
- Akari Nagase: Miyu's aunt. When her sister passed away, Akari adopted Miyu as her own child.
- Ema Nagase (deceased): Miyu's mother. She was a scavenger for the QZ in Atlanta. After her team didn't return from a trip to the next town over, it was presumed they had died. Miyu was only young when she disappeared and has very little memory of her.
- Father (unknown): Miyu's father was absent, therefore she is unsure who her father is.

Friends:
- Emily Thomas: Emily was a classmate of Miyu. They would often sneak out at night to explore off-limits parts of the QZ.
- Jack Ronnenfelt: Miyu had a huge crush on Jack. They would communicate through writing notes in a notepad. She'd help him with his homework when he got stuck.
- Lily Jones: Another one of Miyu's friends that they would sneak out with. Lily was normally the mastermind of their plans, having scoped out the places they were headed to.

Romantic Interests:
- N/A

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Lily, Miyu and Emily, taken on an old digital camera

EXPERIMENT FILE:
Ability: Inhuman Speed
Strengths: Miyu is incredibly agile and, through training, has become able to complete difficult agility based tasks at high speed. To begin with, she had issues with accuracy when moving so quickly, but has improved with practice. Her speed isn't limited to just running. She has also been trained to complete rubiks cubes, clean (unloaded) rifles, and strike at inhuman speeds.
Weaknesses: Moving at such high speeds quickly exhausts Miyu and it's common that she collapses during testing. Depending on the intensity of the testing, it may take Miyu days to recover. She is prone to limb injury when moving at high speed due to increased strain on her bones and ligaments.

coded by archangel_
 
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