Post by Deleted on Jun 18, 2016 11:34:50 GMT -5
Full Name:
Marcus Colburn
Aliases: Brooklyn.
Avatar Photo:
Age:
37.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Built about like what you'd expect out of a veteran marine. Tall, but not too tall, in fact he was on the taller side of average and built with the kind of frame you'd expect out of a marine. After all, wasn't it said that marines came in two sizes? Rottweiler and Doberman? Both with frames built to kill, short hair, and only varied in size? This one was clearly a doberman, with that lean, acid lined, muscular frame that came with a gaunt face and an ever present smirk, mixed up with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long, coltish, limbs corded with muscles honed from hard work, and covered in leathery skin from that same hard work, but in the sun. Off angled fingers came as a carpenter's curse, but those bulgin' knuckles were the result of a grunt's temperament. Scars marked him, from that handsome face, to the fact he was missin' his left pinky toe due to a damn near magic bullet fired during the Second Battle of Fallujah. Still handsome, but those eyes of his were haunting beneath their mischief ridden glint.
Short cut hair and a constant five o'clock shadow, the apocalypse was no excuse for a lack of cleanliness, after all.
Occupation:
Carpenter.
Hometown:
Born in Brooklyn, moved to Lowesville, Virginia.
Relationships:
Mother: Eliza Colburn, Deceased.
Father: James Colburn, Deceased.
Older Brother: James Colburn Jr, Unknown.
Older Sister: Maggie Colburn, Unknown.
Younger Sister: Lauren Colburn, Unknown.
Youngest Sister: Christy Colburn, Unknown.
Wife: Isabel Moreno-Colburn, Deceased.
Daughter: Eliza Isabel Colburn, Deceased.
3rd Cousin, Anse Hatfield: Alive.
Weapons:
--McMillian Supermatch M1A .308 Win.; usually kept across his back in a sling, or held at a low ready position.
--Dan Wesson Elite Series Titan 10mm Auto, holstered at his right hip.
--Ruger SP101, in an ankle holster at the 'inside' of his right ankle, in a holster.
--KA-BAR Knife, at his right hip, infront of the Titan.
Items:
--At his home, he's got multiple sets of clothes, a small stockpile of food, a workshop, and a reloading bench. However, being that he's not often there, the aforementioned is his pack when he's not at home
Underwear.
–Duluth Trading Co Armachillo Boxer Briefs, x3.
–Duluth Trading Co Armachillo Undershirts, x3.
–Duluth Trading Co Lightweight Merino Socks, x3
[2-3 skivvy rolls and pack them into the bottom of his bag.]
Clothing.
–Carhartt Crazy Horse Work Boots.
–Carhartt Foreman’s Work Shirt. x3.
–Carhartt Rugged Flex Dungarees. x2.
Outerwear/Accessories.
–Carhartt Shoreline Vortex Jacket.
–Shoreman’s Windblock Facemask.
–Duluth Trading Co. “Superior Hat.”
–Carhartt Tank Tread Belt.
–Rockwood Safety Glasses with Anti Fog Lenses.
–Duluth Trading Co Pruning Sleeves.
–Mechanix Impact Pro Gloves.
–Bianchi Professional IWB Holster.
–Bianchi Ranger Triad Ankle Holster.
Bag: Carhartt Legacy Gear Bag.
Gear
–Bushnell Rubicon Flashlight.
–Bushnell Legend L-Series Binoculars.
–Water proof pill bottles containing tinder, and weatherproof matches.
–Wind resistant zippo.
–Basic First Aid Kit with Hydrogen Peroxide and Tourniquets.
–Box of Tampons. [Don’t laugh mother-fucker. They can save your sorry life.]
–Canteen, for water carrying purposes.
–As much ammo, food, and batteries as he can carry.
Tools.
–Carpenter’s Knife.
–Folding Saw.
–Estwing Carpenter’s Hatchet.
–Set of screwdrivers.
-Small container of nails.
Sleep System
–Military Poncho/Poncho liner
–Coleman’s Coldweather Sleeping Bag.
Mode of transportation: His feet. He owns a pretty sweet bicycle though.
List 3 or more good personality traits:
--Incredible sense of humor.
--Keeps a cool head, even in a bad situation.
--Loyal.
List 3 or more bad personality traits:
--Perpetual smartass/uses sarcasm to deflect personal questions.
--Has an anxiety disorder.
--Sadomasochistic
--Perverted.
List 3 strengths:
--Is an incredible marksman.
--Skilled Carpenter.
--Trained as a Marine.
List 3 flaws:
--Promiscuous.
--Dyslexic.
--Has an irrational fear of chickens.
Describe your character's life before the Apocalypse:
Mr. Colburn was a first class fuck up. Not to say that he was a bad person, or that he was stupid, but he had a screwed up sense of humor and an ability to shoot off a joke to answer every question. A bonafide smart ass, if you asked his father. His mother, a native New Yorker, just found her second oldest son to be charming. Scrapin' by high school with a 2.0 GPA and a can do attitude, he opted to join the military since he obviously wasn't going to make it on a scholarship and a grant if he wanted to go to college, and how would he? It wasn't like he gave enough of a fuck to make the effort, and while he was athletic, he was very clearly no star athlete, so to the marines it was.
He was a boy, who became a man, who became a marine. Or whatever bullshit nonsense you wanna believe about that kind of romanticism. The boy had a talent for working with his hands, for leading men, for building things and hurting people. It was dream come true. Sure, he still had that nasty habit of disobeying orders enough that it damn near made sure that he'd never move beyond an E-4, but his men loved him, his immediate commanding officers loved him, and that was enough, or at least it was until they walked right into the middle of a man made hell called Fallujah, Iraq.
See, that's the thing about war. It's naturally ugly, it's an affront to humanity, and it's an outright abomination to how people are supposed to be, but you take a bunch of young men and throw them into the bloodiest damn battle that the military's encountered in decades? It does shit to you, and that Brooklyn born marine might've just been broken, maybe part of him snapped that day, but whatever happened to him in Fallujah was bad enough that just a year after the second Battle of Fallujah, he was dishonorably discharged due to an article ninety. In light of the circumstances, which weren't made public, he was only given two years in a military prison, finishing out the last of his eight year service.
From there, he moved on. So much in his life happened, mostly he moved from New York, drifting here and there. Briefly he worked on the Railroad with a distant cousin, Anse, and for a while? Things were good but in all honesty, he wound up drifting to Virginia where he wound up meeting the woman who'd become the love of his life, not that it was easy. She was a Sheriff's daughter, and an angry-as-fuck deputy. The two butted heads more than once, but they wound up in love, mostly because of how utterly angry the two were. Their anger just sort of absolved into something different. Sure, they were fighting more than they were loving on eachother, but it was what it was. He was just a carpenter on the edge of town who was in love with a deputy until the day that they needed him to be more. There was a hostage situation gone wrong on the edge of town, and with the sheriff's men unable to handle the situation, and the Sheriff incapacitated because of a blown out knee, thanks to the perp, well, it was going to get worse, especially with Isabel being the hostage.
Marcus wasn't supposed to have guns. He wasn't supposed to touch a gun, but in a matter of moments, he was snatching up the Sheriff's Winchester Model 70 and taking matters into his own hands. The perp's gun leveled at Isabel's head, his own head inches from hers.. All those years in the Marines, a life that'd been ugly, and rough, and he found himself in a bad situation all over again with a gun in his hands, a rifle, and a mission.
He squeezed that trigger, and he relegated that son of a bitch from a present to a past tense in the blink of an eye and blew his mind back to yesterday. In one squeeze of a trigger, he found himself back in Iraq for a moment, with a clarity of mind that he hadn't had in years. A few years of wandering, of putting his hands to use for other things, and in a second it was gone and they moved back to holding a rifle. Isabel's father found an approval of the man that he hadn't had before. It wasn't long, before he and Isabel actually got married, just a few years after that, and then ten years later, they were still married.. His father in law had secured a pardon for his past crimes, and restored at least some of his rights. He wasn't a bad carpenter, and he'd found he had a steady hand at hunting. It wasn't at all bad in Backwoods Virginia. Hell, he liked it, he found his own little slice of heaven, or at least he thought he had.
What happened to your character on Outbreak Day?:
Other than sitting, waiting, and watching the world go to hell on the news, it was alright. They were prepared for emergencies, so they believed that it'd all be fine, that everything'd be okay so long as they kept the town isolated. The Sheriff's Department held fast, and the community of hunters and farmers and factory workers managed to stand together for a while, things were good.. It seemed like they'd make it.
Describe your character's life after the Apocalypse:
We all know fairy tales are just that. It wasn't a herd that got them, or something else. In that little community center where they held a town gathering, an older member of the community died. A heart attack. They thought only the bite turned them. Hell could've they known otherwise? So, they moved the poor bastard out once it was confirmed that he was, in fact dead. How were they supposed to know that he was going to come alive, that he was going to sink his teeth into Isabel when they were carrying him out? Panic ensued, and in that moment, Marcus was pulling him off of her and bashing the bastard's head into mush with his bare hands against the porch floor of the community center, right in front of god and everyone, with Eliza and a dying Isabel watching. Accusations flew. Was he bit? Did he hide it? Why did he hide it? Yelling, and bickering, and screaming. The man's son even went so far as to accuse Marcus of intentionally killing his father. Marcus responded by smacking the bastard's teeth down his throat. A community had become divided, and Marcus had lost his wife, the woman who made him into something more than just an asshole drifter.. He still had Eliza though, still had his ten year old daughter to take care of, to make sure she lived, at least for now.
See, that was the problem, this story doesn't have a happy ending. There was a darkness in the community then. Did they turn when they died? Had Marcus killed the farmer, and then his wife? What the hell happened on that porch in that split second? Grief, panic, and it didn't help that people were damn scared. Some left, some stayed, some did what they had to, but when you've got a half decent community? You have safety, and supplies, and food, and winters weren't easy in Virginia, so people wanted was yours. They say it's the dead that you have to watch out for. We know that's shit. It was the living that done them in. Raiders, bandits, whatever you want to call them. They would up attacking the town one night, after a month of cat and mouse games between the town and them. Fighting back and forth near constantly. It culminated into one big show of fire and guns and a shit show that resulted in drawing in a herd from over the distance. The town was overrun. Lowesville, Virginia fell to the walkers in the end. The bandits were dead, the sheriff and the townsfolk were dead, and in the end? He lost his daughter to the gunfire. He piked her to keep her from turning. He'd managed to find shelter in the community center's cellar, subsisting of whatever food was left there, and in the week it took the herd to clear out? He took his daughter's body back to their home on the outskirts of town, and he buried her beneath the same oak as her mother was buried in.
God knows why, but he stayed at that home. People came and went, some people wanted to take what was his, and they paid for it in blood but.. He couldn't abandon it. Not yet. There was game to be had, and in the end, he'd fortified his home fairly well, at least well enough to keep it going. He has a big enough garden, he hunts, and he traps, and he fishes, and he scavenges when he's not doing that. Truth is, he has no clue what the hell he's doing half the time, he's just trying to get by, one more day at a time. It's been barely a year since he lost his daughter. He's just trying to make it.
Marcus Colburn
Aliases: Brooklyn.
Avatar Photo:
Age:
37.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Built about like what you'd expect out of a veteran marine. Tall, but not too tall, in fact he was on the taller side of average and built with the kind of frame you'd expect out of a marine. After all, wasn't it said that marines came in two sizes? Rottweiler and Doberman? Both with frames built to kill, short hair, and only varied in size? This one was clearly a doberman, with that lean, acid lined, muscular frame that came with a gaunt face and an ever present smirk, mixed up with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long, coltish, limbs corded with muscles honed from hard work, and covered in leathery skin from that same hard work, but in the sun. Off angled fingers came as a carpenter's curse, but those bulgin' knuckles were the result of a grunt's temperament. Scars marked him, from that handsome face, to the fact he was missin' his left pinky toe due to a damn near magic bullet fired during the Second Battle of Fallujah. Still handsome, but those eyes of his were haunting beneath their mischief ridden glint.
Short cut hair and a constant five o'clock shadow, the apocalypse was no excuse for a lack of cleanliness, after all.
Occupation:
Carpenter.
Hometown:
Born in Brooklyn, moved to Lowesville, Virginia.
Relationships:
Mother: Eliza Colburn, Deceased.
Father: James Colburn, Deceased.
Older Brother: James Colburn Jr, Unknown.
Older Sister: Maggie Colburn, Unknown.
Younger Sister: Lauren Colburn, Unknown.
Youngest Sister: Christy Colburn, Unknown.
Wife: Isabel Moreno-Colburn, Deceased.
Daughter: Eliza Isabel Colburn, Deceased.
3rd Cousin, Anse Hatfield: Alive.
Weapons:
--McMillian Supermatch M1A .308 Win.; usually kept across his back in a sling, or held at a low ready position.
--Dan Wesson Elite Series Titan 10mm Auto, holstered at his right hip.
--Ruger SP101, in an ankle holster at the 'inside' of his right ankle, in a holster.
--KA-BAR Knife, at his right hip, infront of the Titan.
Items:
--At his home, he's got multiple sets of clothes, a small stockpile of food, a workshop, and a reloading bench. However, being that he's not often there, the aforementioned is his pack when he's not at home
Underwear.
–Duluth Trading Co Armachillo Boxer Briefs, x3.
–Duluth Trading Co Armachillo Undershirts, x3.
–Duluth Trading Co Lightweight Merino Socks, x3
[2-3 skivvy rolls and pack them into the bottom of his bag.]
Clothing.
–Carhartt Crazy Horse Work Boots.
–Carhartt Foreman’s Work Shirt. x3.
–Carhartt Rugged Flex Dungarees. x2.
Outerwear/Accessories.
–Carhartt Shoreline Vortex Jacket.
–Shoreman’s Windblock Facemask.
–Duluth Trading Co. “Superior Hat.”
–Carhartt Tank Tread Belt.
–Rockwood Safety Glasses with Anti Fog Lenses.
–Duluth Trading Co Pruning Sleeves.
–Mechanix Impact Pro Gloves.
–Bianchi Professional IWB Holster.
–Bianchi Ranger Triad Ankle Holster.
Bag: Carhartt Legacy Gear Bag.
Gear
–Bushnell Rubicon Flashlight.
–Bushnell Legend L-Series Binoculars.
–Water proof pill bottles containing tinder, and weatherproof matches.
–Wind resistant zippo.
–Basic First Aid Kit with Hydrogen Peroxide and Tourniquets.
–Box of Tampons. [Don’t laugh mother-fucker. They can save your sorry life.]
–Canteen, for water carrying purposes.
–As much ammo, food, and batteries as he can carry.
Tools.
–Carpenter’s Knife.
–Folding Saw.
–Estwing Carpenter’s Hatchet.
–Set of screwdrivers.
-Small container of nails.
Sleep System
–Military Poncho/Poncho liner
–Coleman’s Coldweather Sleeping Bag.
Mode of transportation: His feet. He owns a pretty sweet bicycle though.
List 3 or more good personality traits:
--Incredible sense of humor.
--Keeps a cool head, even in a bad situation.
--Loyal.
List 3 or more bad personality traits:
--Perpetual smartass/uses sarcasm to deflect personal questions.
--Has an anxiety disorder.
--Sadomasochistic
--Perverted.
List 3 strengths:
--Is an incredible marksman.
--Skilled Carpenter.
--Trained as a Marine.
List 3 flaws:
--Promiscuous.
--Dyslexic.
--Has an irrational fear of chickens.
Describe your character's life before the Apocalypse:
Mr. Colburn was a first class fuck up. Not to say that he was a bad person, or that he was stupid, but he had a screwed up sense of humor and an ability to shoot off a joke to answer every question. A bonafide smart ass, if you asked his father. His mother, a native New Yorker, just found her second oldest son to be charming. Scrapin' by high school with a 2.0 GPA and a can do attitude, he opted to join the military since he obviously wasn't going to make it on a scholarship and a grant if he wanted to go to college, and how would he? It wasn't like he gave enough of a fuck to make the effort, and while he was athletic, he was very clearly no star athlete, so to the marines it was.
He was a boy, who became a man, who became a marine. Or whatever bullshit nonsense you wanna believe about that kind of romanticism. The boy had a talent for working with his hands, for leading men, for building things and hurting people. It was dream come true. Sure, he still had that nasty habit of disobeying orders enough that it damn near made sure that he'd never move beyond an E-4, but his men loved him, his immediate commanding officers loved him, and that was enough, or at least it was until they walked right into the middle of a man made hell called Fallujah, Iraq.
See, that's the thing about war. It's naturally ugly, it's an affront to humanity, and it's an outright abomination to how people are supposed to be, but you take a bunch of young men and throw them into the bloodiest damn battle that the military's encountered in decades? It does shit to you, and that Brooklyn born marine might've just been broken, maybe part of him snapped that day, but whatever happened to him in Fallujah was bad enough that just a year after the second Battle of Fallujah, he was dishonorably discharged due to an article ninety. In light of the circumstances, which weren't made public, he was only given two years in a military prison, finishing out the last of his eight year service.
From there, he moved on. So much in his life happened, mostly he moved from New York, drifting here and there. Briefly he worked on the Railroad with a distant cousin, Anse, and for a while? Things were good but in all honesty, he wound up drifting to Virginia where he wound up meeting the woman who'd become the love of his life, not that it was easy. She was a Sheriff's daughter, and an angry-as-fuck deputy. The two butted heads more than once, but they wound up in love, mostly because of how utterly angry the two were. Their anger just sort of absolved into something different. Sure, they were fighting more than they were loving on eachother, but it was what it was. He was just a carpenter on the edge of town who was in love with a deputy until the day that they needed him to be more. There was a hostage situation gone wrong on the edge of town, and with the sheriff's men unable to handle the situation, and the Sheriff incapacitated because of a blown out knee, thanks to the perp, well, it was going to get worse, especially with Isabel being the hostage.
Marcus wasn't supposed to have guns. He wasn't supposed to touch a gun, but in a matter of moments, he was snatching up the Sheriff's Winchester Model 70 and taking matters into his own hands. The perp's gun leveled at Isabel's head, his own head inches from hers.. All those years in the Marines, a life that'd been ugly, and rough, and he found himself in a bad situation all over again with a gun in his hands, a rifle, and a mission.
He squeezed that trigger, and he relegated that son of a bitch from a present to a past tense in the blink of an eye and blew his mind back to yesterday. In one squeeze of a trigger, he found himself back in Iraq for a moment, with a clarity of mind that he hadn't had in years. A few years of wandering, of putting his hands to use for other things, and in a second it was gone and they moved back to holding a rifle. Isabel's father found an approval of the man that he hadn't had before. It wasn't long, before he and Isabel actually got married, just a few years after that, and then ten years later, they were still married.. His father in law had secured a pardon for his past crimes, and restored at least some of his rights. He wasn't a bad carpenter, and he'd found he had a steady hand at hunting. It wasn't at all bad in Backwoods Virginia. Hell, he liked it, he found his own little slice of heaven, or at least he thought he had.
What happened to your character on Outbreak Day?:
Other than sitting, waiting, and watching the world go to hell on the news, it was alright. They were prepared for emergencies, so they believed that it'd all be fine, that everything'd be okay so long as they kept the town isolated. The Sheriff's Department held fast, and the community of hunters and farmers and factory workers managed to stand together for a while, things were good.. It seemed like they'd make it.
Describe your character's life after the Apocalypse:
We all know fairy tales are just that. It wasn't a herd that got them, or something else. In that little community center where they held a town gathering, an older member of the community died. A heart attack. They thought only the bite turned them. Hell could've they known otherwise? So, they moved the poor bastard out once it was confirmed that he was, in fact dead. How were they supposed to know that he was going to come alive, that he was going to sink his teeth into Isabel when they were carrying him out? Panic ensued, and in that moment, Marcus was pulling him off of her and bashing the bastard's head into mush with his bare hands against the porch floor of the community center, right in front of god and everyone, with Eliza and a dying Isabel watching. Accusations flew. Was he bit? Did he hide it? Why did he hide it? Yelling, and bickering, and screaming. The man's son even went so far as to accuse Marcus of intentionally killing his father. Marcus responded by smacking the bastard's teeth down his throat. A community had become divided, and Marcus had lost his wife, the woman who made him into something more than just an asshole drifter.. He still had Eliza though, still had his ten year old daughter to take care of, to make sure she lived, at least for now.
See, that was the problem, this story doesn't have a happy ending. There was a darkness in the community then. Did they turn when they died? Had Marcus killed the farmer, and then his wife? What the hell happened on that porch in that split second? Grief, panic, and it didn't help that people were damn scared. Some left, some stayed, some did what they had to, but when you've got a half decent community? You have safety, and supplies, and food, and winters weren't easy in Virginia, so people wanted was yours. They say it's the dead that you have to watch out for. We know that's shit. It was the living that done them in. Raiders, bandits, whatever you want to call them. They would up attacking the town one night, after a month of cat and mouse games between the town and them. Fighting back and forth near constantly. It culminated into one big show of fire and guns and a shit show that resulted in drawing in a herd from over the distance. The town was overrun. Lowesville, Virginia fell to the walkers in the end. The bandits were dead, the sheriff and the townsfolk were dead, and in the end? He lost his daughter to the gunfire. He piked her to keep her from turning. He'd managed to find shelter in the community center's cellar, subsisting of whatever food was left there, and in the week it took the herd to clear out? He took his daughter's body back to their home on the outskirts of town, and he buried her beneath the same oak as her mother was buried in.
God knows why, but he stayed at that home. People came and went, some people wanted to take what was his, and they paid for it in blood but.. He couldn't abandon it. Not yet. There was game to be had, and in the end, he'd fortified his home fairly well, at least well enough to keep it going. He has a big enough garden, he hunts, and he traps, and he fishes, and he scavenges when he's not doing that. Truth is, he has no clue what the hell he's doing half the time, he's just trying to get by, one more day at a time. It's been barely a year since he lost his daughter. He's just trying to make it.