Post by Francis Stone on Feb 21, 2012 1:03:57 GMT -5
"The world ended... Didn't you get the memo?"
- Amy
- Amy
Your Name: Gladiator
How many years roleplaying?: 9 years
"You don't know what it's like out there. You may think you do but you don't. It's only a matter of time."
- Rick Grimes[/center]
Character Name: Francis Stone
Age: 28
Hometown: Bozeman, Montana
Current Location: Asheville, North Carolina
Bio:
Frank was raised on a farm in Bozeman, Montana learning to raise crops, get a feel for manual labor, and to hunt along side his father, Darrel. He balanced his life as a farmer through his public schooling years until he graduated at the age of 18. He went to college to learn how to be a mechanic, as he'd always had an interest in cars and especially motorcycles.
During his college years, he met a biker gang called The Steel Angels and joined them soon after. He traveled all around the United States with the Steel Angels, helping them to survive in the wild, get small jobs, and fight off any rival biker gangs they happened across. Soon after he graduated the virus hit, turning most of the earth's population into mindless zombies, and most of the gang fell victim to it, turning into what he later came to call,"Walkers".
The rest of the survivors from the gang stuck together and kept moving, raiding any building they came across and gathering supplies. Soon though, the gang separated. The gang eventually dwindled down to four remaining members, and two of them had Alpha personalities, Francis and Bill. Francis was the first to separate from the group, realizing that two Alpha personalities would never work well in a group. A college girl named Alice was also a part of the gang, and she had a rapport with Francis, so she decided to go with him.
Francis and Alice now travel on his Harley Davidson motorcycle heading towards Asheville, North Carolina.
Likes: Women, Harley Davidson motorcycles, alcohol, shooting zombies, and fighting.
Dislikes: People that call him stupid, zombies, spiders and meatloaf.
Strengths: Knowledge of herbs, wilderness survival tactics, fixing vehicles, accurate shooting, hunting, and tracking game animals.
Weaknesses: Controlling his anger, alcohol, sarcasm, being blunt, and impatient.
Anything Else?
Francis always carries his two knives where ever he goes, his hunting knife, and his Mercworx Goliath Combat knife. The hunting knife, he received from his father on his graduation night. He also keeps the Mare's Leg (shortened rifle) he received from his father for his first kill while hunting deer, on himself at all times. The rifle he received is a Rossi 92 Mare's Leg, a short barreled rifle that had been in his family's line for years.
The Mercworx Goliath Combat Knife he bought when he was with the Steel Angels during his late twenties. They'd happened across a gun show in Dallas, Texas while they were passing through, he saw the knife while they were looking around and fell instantly in love with it.
Francis' Hunting Knife
His Mercworx Goliath Combat Knife
Francis' Rifle
Personality:
Frank likes to keep things simple, the more complicated the subject, the more frustrated he gets. He's quite intelligent when it comes to surviving in the wild, manual labor, fixing machines and vehicles, handling weapons, and identifying herbs or poisonous animals. He's confident when working with his hands, whether it's using his fists on someone, or fixing something doesn't really matter to him.
He's also a bit of a cook having been raised on a farm and then learning how to survive in the wild while traveling with his biker gang. When he's really mad, he tends to take off to a quiet place to draw or just think.
He tries to control his anger since it's led to some bad times in the past but, he can only be pushed so far before he blows and starts throwing punches. Most of the time he's actually pretty nice, if a bit crude and blunt, and it's anyone's guess whether he'll follow direction, authority or no.
Roleplay Sample:
The wind whipped the strands of hair that leaked out from underneath the helmet he wore, while riding his Harley Davidson motorcycle. He tore down the highway towards a town called Asheville, there was no particular reason they were going there, it was just another stop along the road, A chance to gather supplies, maybe a place they could secure and sleep in for a night, maybe get some fuel from one of the gas station pumps, if any of it was good, which was hardly ever.
He'd been fortunate enough to have found some still working cars and siphon some fuel out them with a hose he kept for just such an occasion. Francis never stopped moving, not since the outbreak. Alice had her hands wrapped around his well chiseled stomach, the warmth of her arms reminding him of her presence as he simply enjoyed the scenery around him.
Francis always hoped for the best, always hoped that just over the next horizon there'd be a human colony that was safe and secure. So far, there'd been no such luck and his hope was diminishing. It always helped when they came across other survivors though. The problem was, the ones they'd come across so far, had always tried to kill them for what little supplies they carried. It was starting to get to him, make him edgier than he already was around "normal" people, He looked briefly at the gas gauge on his motorcycle, it was nearing empty now. He needed fuel, and he desperately needed to get off of his bike. His legs were numb and his arms were beat red due to the lashing of the wind. Just a couple more miles he thought as they neared town.
