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Derek Dwyre · 03-03-2008, 10:11 PM

Name: Logan Henderson
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Appearance: Tall and broad shouldered, Logan's time in the military sculpted his already well-defined muscles. His jaw was hard and straight, his nose slightly crooked at the bridge from being broken. His arms were thick from muscle, a single scar running from his shoulder down to his elbow. Logan usually wears a black tactical vest over a sleeveless black T-shirt, with black combat boots and black fatigues. A pair of finglerless black gloves cover his hands for better grip and some protection from broken glass and like, should he fall.

His dark brown hair, once undoubtedly short from the military, was now long and shaggy, pullled back in a messy ponytail with more than a few strands laying over his face. His face was rough from the stubble that ran over his chin and up towards his sideburns, though he managed to shave enough to keep it down. His dark blue eyes, once mirthful and engaging, were now husks of loneliness, fear, and rage.

Background/History: Logan joined the military straight out of high school, going into the Marines. Two years of basic and advanced combat training left him in the prime of his life. His parents, living in Dallas, Texas, were thrilled to learn that there son was now a Marine. His older sister, who had moved to New York, also expressed her approval, though it was only such in her eyes.

Then, it all started to fall apart.

When the news reports began discussing unexplained riots, missing people, and a sky-rocketing murder count, an old part of Logan awoke once again. As a young teenager, Logan had always claimed that zombies would come and attack, just like in the movies. His parents were tickled by their son's avid imagination, but when he was fourteen, they decided to curb it and tell him to leave such childish thoughts.

When New York was suddenly embroiled in mass riots and slayage, Logan had just returned home to visit his parents. The moment he saw it on the news, he began talking with his parents. Under oath, Logan swore he would find his sister and bring her home; Dead or alive.

When he first arrived in New York, the city was under martial law. Thanks to his military experience and enlistment, Logan was able to procure several weapons, and a fair amount of ammo from the military personnel.

Weapons: One KA-BAR Combat Knife [Left hip]
Two Glock 18C Machine Pistols [Ankle Holsters]
One Beretta M9 Pistol [Right Hip]
Two FN P90 Submachine Guns [Thigh Holsters]
One Heckler & Koch G36 Assault Rifle [Slung over his shoulders]
(Being in the military does have perks, even if you have to shave your head and take orders from a fat, forty-year-old man who couldn't do half the things he tells you to do.

I'll make an actual post later)

03-03-2008, 10:11 PM	#4 (permalink)
Derek Dwyre Link's Dirty Sock Join Date: Feb 2008 Location: The loneliest hell-hole on Earth. Posts: 47 Reputation: 10 MMOFaces Profile: None Yet	Name: Logan Henderson Age: 26 Gender: Male Appearance: Tall and broad shouldered, Logan's time in the military sculpted his already well-defined muscles. His jaw was hard and straight, his nose slightly crooked at the bridge from being broken. His arms were thick from muscle, a single scar running from his shoulder down to his elbow. Logan usually wears a black tactical vest over a sleeveless black T-shirt, with black combat boots and black fatigues. A pair of finglerless black gloves cover his hands for better grip and some protection from broken glass and like, should he fall. His dark brown hair, once undoubtedly short from the military, was now long and shaggy, pullled back in a messy ponytail with more than a few strands laying over his face. His face was rough from the stubble that ran over his chin and up towards his sideburns, though he managed to shave enough to keep it down. His dark blue eyes, once mirthful and engaging, were now husks of loneliness, fear, and rage. Background/History: Logan joined the military straight out of high school, going into the Marines. Two years of basic and advanced combat training left him in the prime of his life. His parents, living in Dallas, Texas, were thrilled to learn that there son was now a Marine. His older sister, who had moved to New York, also expressed her approval, though it was only such in her eyes. Then, it all started to fall apart. When the news reports began discussing unexplained riots, missing people, and a sky-rocketing murder count, an old part of Logan awoke once again. As a young teenager, Logan had always claimed that zombies would come and attack, just like in the movies. His parents were tickled by their son's avid imagination, but when he was fourteen, they decided to curb it and tell him to leave such childish thoughts. When New York was suddenly embroiled in mass riots and slayage, Logan had just returned home to visit his parents. The moment he saw it on the news, he began talking with his parents. Under oath, Logan swore he would find his sister and bring her home; Dead or alive. When he first arrived in New York, the city was under martial law. Thanks to his military experience and enlistment, Logan was able to procure several weapons, and a fair amount of ammo from the military personnel. Weapons: One KA-BAR Combat Knife [Left hip] Two Glock 18C Machine Pistols [Ankle Holsters] One Beretta M9 Pistol [Right Hip] Two FN P90 Submachine Guns [Thigh Holsters] One Heckler & Koch G36 Assault Rifle [Slung over his shoulders] (Being in the military does have perks, even if you have to shave your head and take orders from a fat, forty-year-old man who couldn't do half the things he tells you to do. I'll make an actual post later) __________________ Duty is heavier than a mountain, death is lighter than a feather.