Post by Duke Anderson on Jun 22, 2010 0:22:09 GMT -5
Name: Jane Halifax
Age: 23
Date of Birth 5 December, 1986
ETHNICITY: White
WEIGHT: 5'11"
HEIGHT: 140lb
HAIR COLOUR: Blonde
EYE COLOUR: Blue-grey
KIN: Parents (assumed dead)
Gender: Female
Origin: Crescent City (Another city I made up)
Occupation: Scavenger
Virus Used: None
Special Abilities:
Speciality Skill: Free Running
Mastered Skills: Breaking and Entry, Rigging
Superior Skills: Land Navigation, Electronic Whiz
Speciality Ability: Observation
Mastered Abilities: Smarts
Superior Abilities: Speed
Personality
Everything about Halifax seems to say plain. She walks and talks and looks like everyone else, defying distinguishing features; wears no jewellery, has no tattoos, collects no scars. There's no ostentatiousness at all. If there's anything different about her, it's that the plainness is all intentional; overall, she doesn't believe it's fair to stand out, to be better than the rest, to push others down raising oneself up. She keeps herself in good shape because she has to, and she steals, she scavenges, she runs messages because someone has to, to provide a useful service and make money—and doesn't everyone else do the same? She always has an excuse or a belittling remark if she ever does anything exceptional or praiseworthy.
Still, she makes friends easily—perhaps a bit too easily—and, even though she'll often take offence and start an argument and promise never to speak to someone again, she can never stay angry for long. When problems arise, Halifax typically shuts herself in completely, never speaking a word to her friends and always seeming upbeat until things get really bad. There's not a chance that she'll let the authorities know, preferring to settle problems and offences her own way—or let them slide completely. She likes to think of herself as an island, an army of one, but it never turns out that way, and she doesn't like to admit that she could need help.
Weapons:
Primary: Glock 17 Pistol (Standard model, kept in a leg holster)
Secondary: Hacksaw (Kept in her backpack)
Equipment List:
Worn:
- Nomex flight-suit, khaki, with wrists and ankles taped shut
- Leather gloves
- Backpack
- Digital wristwatch
- Running shoes, with cleats
- Leg pistol holster
- Wallet
— HSU student ID
— Illinois state driver's license
— Schmidt Memorial Library card
— $60 in cash
- Flashlight
- Cigarette lighter
- 2 pistol magazines
- 100ft cord with hook, worn coiled across chest
Pack:
- Two 32oz water bottles
- Extra flashlight batteries
- Pen and paper
- Pocketknife
Storage:
- 2 pistol magazines
- $300 in cash
Property: None
History:
Halifax has lived in Crescent City all her life; before the outbreak, she left the city only twice. She grew up in a middle-class community to working parents, who left her to herself all through her adolescence and teens, and despite being a smart kid, she pulled Bs and Cs all through high school. Her fixation with being average came fairly late, after a particularly nasty set of girls decided to be jealous of her high marks in middle school and beat her up several times that year, and Hal decided that being bright wasn't worth the trouble.
By her senior year, she was firmly an 'average' student: never giving her teachers a hard time, always doing the work well, but never trying to excel. She'd learned her lesson there, and gradually faded away, picking up few friends in high school and never really talking to many of them. After graduation, Hal was undecided where she wanted to go, or what she wanted to do. She finally quit a lousy job and left Crescent City when she was almost twenty, intending to major in English at Waterson Community College, but there wasn't time to finish before the well-known plague broke out.
When the town was overrun, one of her friends had a "plan" worked out—a joke he never expected to use—and four of them, her little social group at college, hid in an old car warehouse in South Waterson with radios, as much canned goods as they could find, and a safe route out of town across the rooftops and through abandoned apartments. When they drew straws for duties, Hal and fellow ex-student Ray McGee were assigned to scout the town and find anything useful to secure the warehouse. Their plan actually worked for almost three months, and they were able to beat back several shambler attacks only a few weeks in; but when the plan stopped working, it stopped hard. Halifax came back from a hunt to bits of the other survivors decorating the warehouse floor; she barely escaped with one of their stolen shotguns, some ammunition, and anything she was already carrying.
And so she ran, heading back toward Crescent, trading her skills for shelter and supplies—working odd jobs like scavenging, scouting for secure areas other survivors could take shelter in, running messages, finding safe routes from one place to another. It was several months before she even came close, and by the time Hal came close she had already heard about the settlement at Trinity Heights, and by the time she came close the stories were credible enough that she was willing to take hypothetical barricades over cramped safehouses, caves and tall trees...
Description:
Halifax is scavenger, courier and smuggler by trade, and she keeps herself as fit as she can; she's strong and limber enough to climb anywhere she can find purchase, and she's had enough practice clambering around rooftops and balconies to start spotting routes up a building—and anything useful she could pocket—from across the street. For the same purpose she usually keeps her hair and nails cut short, so they don't get in the way.
For someone who spends her time "collecting" anything that isn't tied down, rummaging through abandoned buildings and running from the zombies, she seems pretty, in a generic, no-frills and perpetually grimy sort of way; Hal washes whenever she gets the chance, but she mucks about where she doesn't belong just as often, and always seems to have a coat of dirt, mud, paint or ink from somewhere. She hasn't acquired any scars, tattoos, piercings or any other distinguishing marks, even for a reasonably-experienced free-runner. There's little but her clothing to distinguish her from any other woman in the post-apocalyptic wastelands.
Age: 23
Date of Birth 5 December, 1986
ETHNICITY: White
WEIGHT: 5'11"
HEIGHT: 140lb
HAIR COLOUR: Blonde
EYE COLOUR: Blue-grey
KIN: Parents (assumed dead)
Gender: Female
Origin: Crescent City (Another city I made up)
Occupation: Scavenger
Virus Used: None
Special Abilities:
Speciality Skill: Free Running
Mastered Skills: Breaking and Entry, Rigging
Superior Skills: Land Navigation, Electronic Whiz
Speciality Ability: Observation
Mastered Abilities: Smarts
Superior Abilities: Speed
Personality
Everything about Halifax seems to say plain. She walks and talks and looks like everyone else, defying distinguishing features; wears no jewellery, has no tattoos, collects no scars. There's no ostentatiousness at all. If there's anything different about her, it's that the plainness is all intentional; overall, she doesn't believe it's fair to stand out, to be better than the rest, to push others down raising oneself up. She keeps herself in good shape because she has to, and she steals, she scavenges, she runs messages because someone has to, to provide a useful service and make money—and doesn't everyone else do the same? She always has an excuse or a belittling remark if she ever does anything exceptional or praiseworthy.
Still, she makes friends easily—perhaps a bit too easily—and, even though she'll often take offence and start an argument and promise never to speak to someone again, she can never stay angry for long. When problems arise, Halifax typically shuts herself in completely, never speaking a word to her friends and always seeming upbeat until things get really bad. There's not a chance that she'll let the authorities know, preferring to settle problems and offences her own way—or let them slide completely. She likes to think of herself as an island, an army of one, but it never turns out that way, and she doesn't like to admit that she could need help.
Weapons:
Primary: Glock 17 Pistol (Standard model, kept in a leg holster)
Secondary: Hacksaw (Kept in her backpack)
Equipment List:
Worn:
- Nomex flight-suit, khaki, with wrists and ankles taped shut
- Leather gloves
- Backpack
- Digital wristwatch
- Running shoes, with cleats
- Leg pistol holster
- Wallet
— HSU student ID
— Illinois state driver's license
— Schmidt Memorial Library card
— $60 in cash
- Flashlight
- Cigarette lighter
- 2 pistol magazines
- 100ft cord with hook, worn coiled across chest
Pack:
- Two 32oz water bottles
- Extra flashlight batteries
- Pen and paper
- Pocketknife
Storage:
- 2 pistol magazines
- $300 in cash
Property: None
History:
Halifax has lived in Crescent City all her life; before the outbreak, she left the city only twice. She grew up in a middle-class community to working parents, who left her to herself all through her adolescence and teens, and despite being a smart kid, she pulled Bs and Cs all through high school. Her fixation with being average came fairly late, after a particularly nasty set of girls decided to be jealous of her high marks in middle school and beat her up several times that year, and Hal decided that being bright wasn't worth the trouble.
By her senior year, she was firmly an 'average' student: never giving her teachers a hard time, always doing the work well, but never trying to excel. She'd learned her lesson there, and gradually faded away, picking up few friends in high school and never really talking to many of them. After graduation, Hal was undecided where she wanted to go, or what she wanted to do. She finally quit a lousy job and left Crescent City when she was almost twenty, intending to major in English at Waterson Community College, but there wasn't time to finish before the well-known plague broke out.
When the town was overrun, one of her friends had a "plan" worked out—a joke he never expected to use—and four of them, her little social group at college, hid in an old car warehouse in South Waterson with radios, as much canned goods as they could find, and a safe route out of town across the rooftops and through abandoned apartments. When they drew straws for duties, Hal and fellow ex-student Ray McGee were assigned to scout the town and find anything useful to secure the warehouse. Their plan actually worked for almost three months, and they were able to beat back several shambler attacks only a few weeks in; but when the plan stopped working, it stopped hard. Halifax came back from a hunt to bits of the other survivors decorating the warehouse floor; she barely escaped with one of their stolen shotguns, some ammunition, and anything she was already carrying.
And so she ran, heading back toward Crescent, trading her skills for shelter and supplies—working odd jobs like scavenging, scouting for secure areas other survivors could take shelter in, running messages, finding safe routes from one place to another. It was several months before she even came close, and by the time Hal came close she had already heard about the settlement at Trinity Heights, and by the time she came close the stories were credible enough that she was willing to take hypothetical barricades over cramped safehouses, caves and tall trees...
Description:
Halifax is scavenger, courier and smuggler by trade, and she keeps herself as fit as she can; she's strong and limber enough to climb anywhere she can find purchase, and she's had enough practice clambering around rooftops and balconies to start spotting routes up a building—and anything useful she could pocket—from across the street. For the same purpose she usually keeps her hair and nails cut short, so they don't get in the way.
For someone who spends her time "collecting" anything that isn't tied down, rummaging through abandoned buildings and running from the zombies, she seems pretty, in a generic, no-frills and perpetually grimy sort of way; Hal washes whenever she gets the chance, but she mucks about where she doesn't belong just as often, and always seems to have a coat of dirt, mud, paint or ink from somewhere. She hasn't acquired any scars, tattoos, piercings or any other distinguishing marks, even for a reasonably-experienced free-runner. There's little but her clothing to distinguish her from any other woman in the post-apocalyptic wastelands.
