captain saxxy
I'm written in legend, I'll never truly die.
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/image.jpeg.f812f93cd8f28971e5efe6ad6cae39c0.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="123537" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/image.jpeg.f812f93cd8f28971e5efe6ad6cae39c0.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/image.jpeg.de8e12ac6d7c96dbcb944a1f4208bce2.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="123543" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/image.jpeg.de8e12ac6d7c96dbcb944a1f4208bce2.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Name: Harvey "porky" Blankenship
Age: 36
Description: 6'7 254 pounds, built like a freight train. Dusty brown eyes, trimmed but wildly unkempt brown hair.
Bio: Harvey was always a bit susceptible to criticism. He was always picked on for being the "gentle giant" type. He was always well behaved, though always creepily stoic. After growing through his adolescence relatively normally, he opened a butcher's shop and lived a life of solitude until the end days came. Perhaps the years of being tormented for his shy nature got to him, or maybe it was the names themselves that inspired a sense of irony to the self made costume that he dawned as the dead began to walk. It is made from untreated pork skin, and stinks just as bad as you'd think it would. It allows him to walk freely among the dead, striking down those that he deems in his twisted mind necessary with his trusty Dixie chopper blade. He wanders the country side fearlessly, quietly, and eerily similar to the dead, without actually being one. Some surviving wandering traders that have seen him spread like wildfire that he is the origin of the plague. Even though he, though not directly, is just a victim.
Age: 36
Description: 6'7 254 pounds, built like a freight train. Dusty brown eyes, trimmed but wildly unkempt brown hair.
Bio: Harvey was always a bit susceptible to criticism. He was always picked on for being the "gentle giant" type. He was always well behaved, though always creepily stoic. After growing through his adolescence relatively normally, he opened a butcher's shop and lived a life of solitude until the end days came. Perhaps the years of being tormented for his shy nature got to him, or maybe it was the names themselves that inspired a sense of irony to the self made costume that he dawned as the dead began to walk. It is made from untreated pork skin, and stinks just as bad as you'd think it would. It allows him to walk freely among the dead, striking down those that he deems in his twisted mind necessary with his trusty Dixie chopper blade. He wanders the country side fearlessly, quietly, and eerily similar to the dead, without actually being one. Some surviving wandering traders that have seen him spread like wildfire that he is the origin of the plague. Even though he, though not directly, is just a victim.