Name: Alanoth N. Jackson 

 

Age: 32

 

Race: Human(duh)

 

Height: 6'2"

 

Weight: 178 lbs

 

Markings/Tattoos: None

 

Appearance: Don't you see the picture?

 

Skills: Hand to hand combat; close quarters combat(with a melee weapon); pistol proficiency(he can hit them most of the time); lockpicking; scavenging; very good driver

 

Family: mother-deceased, father-unknown, Bobbi Jo-sister-alive, sister-unknown

 

Years Spent in the City after the Outbreak: less than one week

 

Relationship: None(short term/long term-PM me to discuss)

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Whoa, whoa, whoa...what the heck do you think you're doing? You're giving away all of my stats--copying my sis a little bit--and you aren't telling my story at all? Uh-uh, that's not gonna fly. I'll take over from here, just let me sit in front of the keyboard here...Alright, now, I'm gonna tell you folks how I ended up here, so try to keep up. Oh, and keep the kids away, it might be a little scary.

 

 

 

So, you guys know all about my sis--she's a military gal, she's a hero, blah, blah, blah. Well, she wasn't the only one who had a hard time after mom died either. I mean, I was the oldest for crying out loud! Do you think it was easy looking after my sisters all the time while dad tried to keep himself together AND go to work? Didn't think so, so let's move on a bit. We grew up, so dad didn't need to look after us anymore, however, I'm not gonna say everything was all fine and dandy. It was hard at first, I never could get a date to save my life, the girls put me to shame that way by each getting a boyfriend. Though I heard Bobbi Jo broke up with hers--something about cheating on her. Anyway, I went to college--for a year. I couldn't keep up my grades, and they eventually kicked me out. I didn't want to bother dad with having to take care of me again, and I couldn't bring myself to ask the girls for help, so I left town and tried to make it on my own. I worked some odd jobs--pizza guy, driver, delivery man, errand boy--but I never let myself do anything undignified. I guess it was pride, though I'm glad I stuck to it. An old friend from high school found me, and showed me how to pick a lock as good as anyone. He offered to help me get started in a crime career, but I was way too scared. I didn't want to come home one day in handcuffs and try to explain it to dad. Life was half decent, I did manual labor for a while at a place called McJunkin--a parts shop of sorts--and got some muscle on me. Man, that and those self defense classes I took back in school would really help, as I had no way of knowing.

 

After the Outbreak:

 

Well, when all hell broke loose, I was helping my boss move some packing crates onto a truck. We suddenly hear screaming coming from town, and see a lot of cars drive by in a hurry. The boss wants to go check on his family, and heads to the parking lot. This weird looking guy with half his face gone comes walking into the lot from the street, moaning a bit and shuffling along. The boss walks up to him, yelling at him to leave--the guy responded by biting his hand off. I picked up a 2x4 from the truck and smashed the freak over the head a couple of times, thankfully he didn't last long. My boss was hurting, and he started to vomit as he fell over. I ran to the office for help, but everyone was already gone to check on their families. I ran back to my boss, and he tried to bite my leg. I asked him what was wrong, then I noticed him moaning the same way that freak had done, and I knew that it was some sort of disease. I ran to my car--a double cab pickup that I bought the week before--and dove off back to my apartment. On the way there, I saw the whole world going down in fire and blood. People eating eachother, people screaming and running, it was a mess, needless to say. I finally got home, ran inside, and started packing my bags. I got all of my food and water in the truck bed, and grabbed a baseball bat on my way out. Just as I was leaving, I noticed a message on my answering machine, and listened to it. My sis--not Bobbi Jo--had called to say that she saw on the news what was happening and wanted me to come home. She was interrupted by something breaking, and then I heard her yell and run before the message ended. There was no way I was going home then, not when she and dad were probably goners if these monsters had reached Las Vegas. I drove off with the front door open, stopping by a looted gun store to see if anything was left. The owner had been beaten over the head, and never bitten, so I did what everyone else had done and grabbed the last pistol from behind the counter. I looked for bullets for a couple of minutes, and only came away with half a box. I took it and drove off again, not knowing where to go, who to call, or what the heck was going on. I just drove...

 

During the Present Time:

 

I've been kinda doing my own thing ever since, keeping my truck fueled up, practicing with the gun, teaching myself how to fight. I once tried to stick with this group of people headed to Arizona, but they were too suspiscious of me and made me leave. I've wandered, finding what food and water I can in an attempt to stay alive. A month ago, driving about a hundred miles from Las Vegas, I heard a broadcast over the radio that a girl named Bobbi Jo was trying to help survivors in Vegas get out to somewhere more safe. I couldn't believe my ears, she had to be dead, but something in the back of my head said to try and get there. So, I stopped at the first abandoned town I could find, fueled up by sifting gas from cars, and scavenged together some food. Then, I turned my sights down the highway towards home, and headed off to see if I could possibly be reuinted with at least one of my sisters. There wasn only a snowball's chance in an oven of finding her, but sometimes luck takes pity on families. Maybe this would be one of those times. Only a day after I got to the city outskirts, I lost half my food to some raiders who stopped me along the road. Selfish bastards, I hope they choked on those cans. I also had to give them most of my bullets as a "toll fee", so now I only have a clip left. I've been in Las Vegas itself for about a week, hiding out in this apartment building where I ran out of gas. Once in a while I hear something on the radio, but it never says anything about Bobbi Jo. So, here I am, trying to find my sis, trying to stay alive just another day in this apocalypse. Maybe I'll find her, maybe I'll find her dead...I don't know yet, but I'll never know if I stick around here. Besides, the water's running low, so I'm gonna try to loot something on the Strip. Wish me luck, I know for a fact that I'm gonna need it...

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So...I got to Vegas, was with her for a while...finally reunited...but things just went bad...I'm not even going to talk abotu the details...point is: we're together to pull through this, no matter what happens. I won't lose her again, and I sure as hell won't abandon her like I did so long ago for any reason. I know she thinks everything's fine since we're together again but...one of these days our luck is gonna run out...the food will go away forever...but no matter what, in this or any other crisis, family comes first. I'll die before I let any man or zed touch her, and I'll cut myself open and feed her my blood before I let her starve, no matter what.

 

 

 

[[Re-posting cause I beleive it]] The girl you just called fat...she's overdosing on diet pills. The girl you just called ugly... she spends hours putting makeup on, hoping people will like her. The boy you just tripped... he is abused enough at home. See that man with the ugly scars? He fought for his country. That guy you just made fun of for crying... his mother is dying. Put this as your status if you're against bullying. I bet 95 of you wont re-post this, but I'm sure the people with a heart and backbone will.