P
player of games
Member
- Joined
- Sep 11, 2019
- Messages
- 34
- Points
- 18
Whitelist Name
Frank Carlisle
I Agree
Yes
Has this character appeared in a previous lore?
No
Age
29
Personality
He's a father, so, his one main concern would be the protection of his as of now alive daughter. He's generally of a more serious demeanor - solidified by the current crisis.
Physical Appearance
Before you stands a rough looking Caucasian male, standing at around 6'1. He has black hair, brown eyes, and a full beard to match his rugged demeanor.
He wears a brown check shirt over a navy blue t-shirt, a pair of jeans protecting his legs coupled with a pair of working boots on his feet.
Character Image Link
http://wduwant.com/index_uploads/uploads/cb08c1571f10.jpg
In-Character Profession
Carpenter
Would you like your character to start with any items?
Colt 1911, 2 mags, box of 45
Baseball Bat
Dufflebag
Combat Boots
3 packs of cigarettes, 2 lighters
car
Biography
Frank Carlisle was born in the maternity ward of St. David's Medical Center in Austin, Texas on the 9th of November, 1989. His parents were Robert and Lucille, two working class whites who always found a way to provide. He was the middle of 3 siblings, Tommy, his younger brother, and his older sister, Susanne, who served as a constant annoyance and source of frustration for him in his formative years. Whatever they did, however, he loved his family. Growing up poor in the streets of Austin shaped Frank's world view, whether he admitted it or not, and going through school, he suffered frequent bouts of depression and unwarranted aggression, frequently lashing out against his family, friends and total strangers - the latter of which would land him in trouble several times throughout his school years, though nothing too serious.
Everything changed for Frank when he was 17, receiving the news of his girlfriend Jenny's pregnancy soon after his birthday, he was left quite shell-shocked. He had never wanted children, and even if he had, he'd have wanted them a lot further down the line - something to occupy him in his thirties, maybe. A mistake, however, that led to a sort of lukewarm happiness as he felt the tone of the room shift as beeping rang out - he had been caught unaware by his girlfriend's death, and was unresponsive as the nurse rushed him back out into the waiting room, still scrubbed up, assuring him they'd do everything they could. It felt like hours had passed while it had only taken twelve minutes for his Jenny to be pronounced dead, collapsing down into the chair behind him as the doctor droned on about how he did "everything he could" and how "the baby survived" - none of it went in, and he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
And like that, it was. He woke up to the echoes of Sarah's cries through the baby monitor atop his dresser, rubbing his tired eyes with a groan as he got up to check on his two month old baby daughter, hoping to calm her down before she woke his parents up. He had failed, however, and by the time he got there, the crying had stopped - and his own mother, the baby's grandmother, Lucille, was cradling her in the room's rocking chair, singing softly to the baby as if she was her own.
Frank's first few years as a single father were supported diligently by his own ageing parents, letting them both stay at his childhood home as he attempted to find work following his carpenter's apprenticeship, Sarah was lucky in the fact she had an uncle, aunt, and two grandparents willing to take care of her where her father couldn't. These years would soon become of great regret to Frank, seeing it as an example of his flawed parenting, for what kind of man leaves his child in the arms of another?
Things started to look up after his daughter's third birthday, however, as he had been doing frequent work for a local contractor who paid well enough. He managed to get a good deal on a decent two bedroom house in the suburbs, and this is where his life truly began. He worked days, sometimes nights, where he'd have to leave Sarah with his parents in their old home - however, he knew the time they would spend together would be all the more special, and that they'd be doing it in a place they could call their own made it even sweeter.
Growing up, his daughter Sarah was quite athletic, bright, and the picture image of him - for better or worse of course. He beamed with pride every soccer match he attended, every birthday party he chaperoned - she grew up to be the light of his life, whether he had wanted her or not in the past, he was glad she was here now.
Then, just as things were looking solid - just as everything was going fine, the first reports came in. Frank had gotten home late eleven at night, engaging in a heated discussion with his brother over the phone about a job they were both on the next month - who would supervise, the usual shit. He was greeted by his daughter waking up on the sofa, who had tried and failed to wait for him to get home. He set his phone down on the end table next to the sofa, right below the lamp as he sat down next to his tired daughter. They had a brief conversation before they both fell asleep on the couch, with him waking up before her - ending in him carrying her up to bed. After tucking her in, he headed to bed his own self, grabbing the TV remote on his way in, he sat down on the bed before flicking through the channels. He was half-way through getting his boots off as a particular news report came up - it was in the middle of Austin, heavy rioting, petrol bombs, cars being overturned - he pulled his curtains apart, looking out at the city's moonlit skyline as occasional flashes of intense orange light followed by loud explosions rang out. He turned his attention back to the television -- and it was dead, static. At that very moment, a scream rang out from next door - his neighbours, the Espinas - Maria in particular. He pondered very briefly before deciding on what to do, heading downstairs and out through the sliding doors in his study. He hopped the shared fence, intent on breaking up the domestic dispute before the police got involved. Just as he went to open the clear glass sliding door - he noticed something. A red handprint, smudged, a trail of red left dragging towards the innards of their house. He jumped backwards as the form of his drunkard neighbour John threw himself at the glass door, landing on his back - hitting his head against the ground. He painfully rolled onto his stomach with a groan, getting to his feet just as John managed to break through the glass. His eyes widened, and he raised both hands between him and his infected neighbour, exclaiming frantically "I heard a noise, John! You been drinkin'!?" as John got ever closer, Frank himself backing up closer and closer to the fence, when, suddenly, the form of his neighbour lunged at Frank. He managed to get out of the way just barely - John crashing into the fence with enough force to take it down. Frank backed up further as John struggled to his feet, moaning and groaning, turning towards the panicked Frank before lunging again. Without thinking, he rushed John, spear-tackling his infected neighbour to the ground as the creature's jaws snapped at Frank, it's fingers clawing at his back violently in an attempt to pierce skin. He narrowly avoided getting bitten as he got off of John, rushing through the new hole in their shared fence back to the house. He smashed against the glass, his now bloodied hands struggling to open the sliding doors as he heard the footsteps behind him. He rushed inside with heavy breaths, slamming the door shut behind him. "Daddy?" Sarah's tired voice rang out from the next room as Frank made his way to the desk laden with blueprints and paperwork, fumbling around with the drawers in an effort to remember which one contained his gun. He found it eventually, pulling the Colt .45 from it's case, heading over to his daughter with a frightened, frantic expression on his sweaty face, bloodstains on his shirt and neck. "Daddy you're bleedin' .." The girl eked with a concerned tone, backing up slightly as her father approached. "It's ain't mine! It's John, he's.. -- he's sick!" Frank managed, getting between the sliding doors and his daughter. He shakily raised his gun as the glass broke - the abomination crashing through into his office. It made its way to his feet lethargically, snarling at the pair before beginning it's shamble. "John! Get back! I'm warnin' you!" Frank shouted, terrified. He flicked the firearm's safety off, shielding his daughter with his body. John didn't heed the warning, instead lunging at the pair. Frank pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight for the monster's center mass. It fell backwards, his daughter letting out a scream as the shot rang out, Frank looking equally terrified as he rushed to the door. "C'mon!" He urged as more screams rang out through their neighbourhood, accompanied by automatic and semi-automatic gunfire, with the occasional explosion mixed in for good measure. He rushed to the front door, his daughter in tow as he peered through the blinds, holding the handgun close as he made his way outside.
Outside stood Tommy, his brother - who was in as much of a panic as Frank himself. The trio loaded up into Frank's truck, and began on their journey.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur to Frank - the events uncertain, driving down the clogged streets in his truck, his daughter sat in between the two brothers as Tommy fiddled with the radio. He looked on as the destruction really started to take hold - cars overturned, burnt out, ambulances and police cars speeding by with their sirens blaring. The only thing he could recall with any certainty was the crash - the suddenness of it. He drove slowly down the clogged city street, mobs of fleeing people sprinting by his truck - he was too hypnotised to notice the vehicle speeding down the right turn as he drove out onto the intersection - his daughter letting out a scream as it collided with the back end of their truck, rolling it several times before finally flipping. He came to several minutes later, his daughter shaking him frantically to wake him up - he crawled through the broken glass of the windscreen, retrieving his handgun on the way as he got to his feet shakily, looking around at the desolation. He tucked the handgun into his waistband as he struggled to get the mangled passenger side door open - pulling his daughter out of the wreckage and helping her to her feet - realising very soon that she had broken her leg in the crash. He hoisted her up, joining the nearest mob of fleeing civilians as they frantically tried to get out of the suburbs.
The sun was coming up by the time they escaped the city, and, luckily, a passing family took pity on them - stopping to let the trio ride in their station wagon. They had been through hell, it seemed, their youngest son - looking no older than eight or nine, was bleeding from what looked to be teeth marks on his arm, the middle aged mother soaked in his blood, the father and older looking son at the front of the vehicle with hunting rifles. He couldn't thank them enough as they dropped the three off far enough outside of the city to have escaped the carnage, bidding them good luck on their way to Salt Lake City - he learned they both had family there, and he wasn't looking to go to Utah. It took a couple hours of travel by foot with several stops inbetween before they found an abandoned car - which he took after some deliberation. He loaded his injured daughter in the back as he started the vehicle - the previous occupants shambling out of the treeline as the car sparked to life. He pulled the driver side door shut, setting on down the highway. Cars passed him by in both directions as they got further and further away from the city, his destination unknown.
Would you like to opt-in to group randomization?
No
If yes, please enter your Discord tag.
no
If no, are there any specific characters you plan to group with from the start?
Tommy Carlisle
Frank Carlisle
I Agree
Yes
Has this character appeared in a previous lore?
No
Age
29
Personality
He's a father, so, his one main concern would be the protection of his as of now alive daughter. He's generally of a more serious demeanor - solidified by the current crisis.
Physical Appearance
Before you stands a rough looking Caucasian male, standing at around 6'1. He has black hair, brown eyes, and a full beard to match his rugged demeanor.
He wears a brown check shirt over a navy blue t-shirt, a pair of jeans protecting his legs coupled with a pair of working boots on his feet.
Character Image Link
http://wduwant.com/index_uploads/uploads/cb08c1571f10.jpg
In-Character Profession
Carpenter
Would you like your character to start with any items?
Colt 1911, 2 mags, box of 45
Baseball Bat
Dufflebag
Combat Boots
3 packs of cigarettes, 2 lighters
car
Biography
Frank Carlisle was born in the maternity ward of St. David's Medical Center in Austin, Texas on the 9th of November, 1989. His parents were Robert and Lucille, two working class whites who always found a way to provide. He was the middle of 3 siblings, Tommy, his younger brother, and his older sister, Susanne, who served as a constant annoyance and source of frustration for him in his formative years. Whatever they did, however, he loved his family. Growing up poor in the streets of Austin shaped Frank's world view, whether he admitted it or not, and going through school, he suffered frequent bouts of depression and unwarranted aggression, frequently lashing out against his family, friends and total strangers - the latter of which would land him in trouble several times throughout his school years, though nothing too serious.
Everything changed for Frank when he was 17, receiving the news of his girlfriend Jenny's pregnancy soon after his birthday, he was left quite shell-shocked. He had never wanted children, and even if he had, he'd have wanted them a lot further down the line - something to occupy him in his thirties, maybe. A mistake, however, that led to a sort of lukewarm happiness as he felt the tone of the room shift as beeping rang out - he had been caught unaware by his girlfriend's death, and was unresponsive as the nurse rushed him back out into the waiting room, still scrubbed up, assuring him they'd do everything they could. It felt like hours had passed while it had only taken twelve minutes for his Jenny to be pronounced dead, collapsing down into the chair behind him as the doctor droned on about how he did "everything he could" and how "the baby survived" - none of it went in, and he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
And like that, it was. He woke up to the echoes of Sarah's cries through the baby monitor atop his dresser, rubbing his tired eyes with a groan as he got up to check on his two month old baby daughter, hoping to calm her down before she woke his parents up. He had failed, however, and by the time he got there, the crying had stopped - and his own mother, the baby's grandmother, Lucille, was cradling her in the room's rocking chair, singing softly to the baby as if she was her own.
Frank's first few years as a single father were supported diligently by his own ageing parents, letting them both stay at his childhood home as he attempted to find work following his carpenter's apprenticeship, Sarah was lucky in the fact she had an uncle, aunt, and two grandparents willing to take care of her where her father couldn't. These years would soon become of great regret to Frank, seeing it as an example of his flawed parenting, for what kind of man leaves his child in the arms of another?
Things started to look up after his daughter's third birthday, however, as he had been doing frequent work for a local contractor who paid well enough. He managed to get a good deal on a decent two bedroom house in the suburbs, and this is where his life truly began. He worked days, sometimes nights, where he'd have to leave Sarah with his parents in their old home - however, he knew the time they would spend together would be all the more special, and that they'd be doing it in a place they could call their own made it even sweeter.
Growing up, his daughter Sarah was quite athletic, bright, and the picture image of him - for better or worse of course. He beamed with pride every soccer match he attended, every birthday party he chaperoned - she grew up to be the light of his life, whether he had wanted her or not in the past, he was glad she was here now.
Then, just as things were looking solid - just as everything was going fine, the first reports came in. Frank had gotten home late eleven at night, engaging in a heated discussion with his brother over the phone about a job they were both on the next month - who would supervise, the usual shit. He was greeted by his daughter waking up on the sofa, who had tried and failed to wait for him to get home. He set his phone down on the end table next to the sofa, right below the lamp as he sat down next to his tired daughter. They had a brief conversation before they both fell asleep on the couch, with him waking up before her - ending in him carrying her up to bed. After tucking her in, he headed to bed his own self, grabbing the TV remote on his way in, he sat down on the bed before flicking through the channels. He was half-way through getting his boots off as a particular news report came up - it was in the middle of Austin, heavy rioting, petrol bombs, cars being overturned - he pulled his curtains apart, looking out at the city's moonlit skyline as occasional flashes of intense orange light followed by loud explosions rang out. He turned his attention back to the television -- and it was dead, static. At that very moment, a scream rang out from next door - his neighbours, the Espinas - Maria in particular. He pondered very briefly before deciding on what to do, heading downstairs and out through the sliding doors in his study. He hopped the shared fence, intent on breaking up the domestic dispute before the police got involved. Just as he went to open the clear glass sliding door - he noticed something. A red handprint, smudged, a trail of red left dragging towards the innards of their house. He jumped backwards as the form of his drunkard neighbour John threw himself at the glass door, landing on his back - hitting his head against the ground. He painfully rolled onto his stomach with a groan, getting to his feet just as John managed to break through the glass. His eyes widened, and he raised both hands between him and his infected neighbour, exclaiming frantically "I heard a noise, John! You been drinkin'!?" as John got ever closer, Frank himself backing up closer and closer to the fence, when, suddenly, the form of his neighbour lunged at Frank. He managed to get out of the way just barely - John crashing into the fence with enough force to take it down. Frank backed up further as John struggled to his feet, moaning and groaning, turning towards the panicked Frank before lunging again. Without thinking, he rushed John, spear-tackling his infected neighbour to the ground as the creature's jaws snapped at Frank, it's fingers clawing at his back violently in an attempt to pierce skin. He narrowly avoided getting bitten as he got off of John, rushing through the new hole in their shared fence back to the house. He smashed against the glass, his now bloodied hands struggling to open the sliding doors as he heard the footsteps behind him. He rushed inside with heavy breaths, slamming the door shut behind him. "Daddy?" Sarah's tired voice rang out from the next room as Frank made his way to the desk laden with blueprints and paperwork, fumbling around with the drawers in an effort to remember which one contained his gun. He found it eventually, pulling the Colt .45 from it's case, heading over to his daughter with a frightened, frantic expression on his sweaty face, bloodstains on his shirt and neck. "Daddy you're bleedin' .." The girl eked with a concerned tone, backing up slightly as her father approached. "It's ain't mine! It's John, he's.. -- he's sick!" Frank managed, getting between the sliding doors and his daughter. He shakily raised his gun as the glass broke - the abomination crashing through into his office. It made its way to his feet lethargically, snarling at the pair before beginning it's shamble. "John! Get back! I'm warnin' you!" Frank shouted, terrified. He flicked the firearm's safety off, shielding his daughter with his body. John didn't heed the warning, instead lunging at the pair. Frank pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight for the monster's center mass. It fell backwards, his daughter letting out a scream as the shot rang out, Frank looking equally terrified as he rushed to the door. "C'mon!" He urged as more screams rang out through their neighbourhood, accompanied by automatic and semi-automatic gunfire, with the occasional explosion mixed in for good measure. He rushed to the front door, his daughter in tow as he peered through the blinds, holding the handgun close as he made his way outside.
Outside stood Tommy, his brother - who was in as much of a panic as Frank himself. The trio loaded up into Frank's truck, and began on their journey.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur to Frank - the events uncertain, driving down the clogged streets in his truck, his daughter sat in between the two brothers as Tommy fiddled with the radio. He looked on as the destruction really started to take hold - cars overturned, burnt out, ambulances and police cars speeding by with their sirens blaring. The only thing he could recall with any certainty was the crash - the suddenness of it. He drove slowly down the clogged city street, mobs of fleeing people sprinting by his truck - he was too hypnotised to notice the vehicle speeding down the right turn as he drove out onto the intersection - his daughter letting out a scream as it collided with the back end of their truck, rolling it several times before finally flipping. He came to several minutes later, his daughter shaking him frantically to wake him up - he crawled through the broken glass of the windscreen, retrieving his handgun on the way as he got to his feet shakily, looking around at the desolation. He tucked the handgun into his waistband as he struggled to get the mangled passenger side door open - pulling his daughter out of the wreckage and helping her to her feet - realising very soon that she had broken her leg in the crash. He hoisted her up, joining the nearest mob of fleeing civilians as they frantically tried to get out of the suburbs.
The sun was coming up by the time they escaped the city, and, luckily, a passing family took pity on them - stopping to let the trio ride in their station wagon. They had been through hell, it seemed, their youngest son - looking no older than eight or nine, was bleeding from what looked to be teeth marks on his arm, the middle aged mother soaked in his blood, the father and older looking son at the front of the vehicle with hunting rifles. He couldn't thank them enough as they dropped the three off far enough outside of the city to have escaped the carnage, bidding them good luck on their way to Salt Lake City - he learned they both had family there, and he wasn't looking to go to Utah. It took a couple hours of travel by foot with several stops inbetween before they found an abandoned car - which he took after some deliberation. He loaded his injured daughter in the back as he started the vehicle - the previous occupants shambling out of the treeline as the car sparked to life. He pulled the driver side door shut, setting on down the highway. Cars passed him by in both directions as they got further and further away from the city, his destination unknown.
Would you like to opt-in to group randomization?
No
If yes, please enter your Discord tag.
no
If no, are there any specific characters you plan to group with from the start?
Tommy Carlisle
Last edited:
