Character Name
Cassian Graves
I Agree
Yes
Has this character appeared in a previous lore?
No
Age
33
Blood Type
O-
Personality
Likely easily summed up as an everyman; Cassian tries to walk a line between having the ability to live with his actions, and survive in a world that grows colder by the day. He has a naturally light-hearted disposition, perhaps indicating his level of detachment from the world around him with his penchant to fall back on gallows humor, ill-timed or not. While he tries to distance himself from some of the actions he's forced to do to survive, the morality is not lost to him, and his desire to be just and kind to those around him often wins over cruelty and greed.
That being said, flight is a very real and powerful influence on Cassian. He's more likely to flake than stand strong, if situations look dire.
Character Motivations
A wanderer from Maine, Cassian seems to be running from something...
Physical Appearance
A recent life spent with sparse meals and long, sleepless nights has taken a toll on his angular features. Bags hang beneath his emerald-shaded hues, and a ragged jawline of stubble lends to the idea that he hasn't much concern for his appearance and that his health has been degraded from months on the road.
More often than not, his expression slips into a soft, tight-lipped frown. He never seems to be entirely untroubled.
Character Image Link
Mechanical Occupation
Park Ranger
In-Character Occupation
Scout / Wanderer
Biography
Born to a fishing family in Maine, Cassian was nineteen when Red Eye swept through the world. Even in his small town on the coast, it was only a matter of time before the full brunt of the infection brought it to ruin and chaos. Neighbors turned to enemies, enemies turned to the dead, and rather than hold down their family home against the world around them, Cassian's family headed inland through water-ways with his father's boat. Canada was the objective -- follow the winding rivers that opened to the minor lakes that spotted Maine until they reached the border where surely things would be better.
They'd never made it, of course. Rivers only carried them so far until they had to forge through land, and none of them were prepared to hazard the hastily drawn-up trek. Between the looming presence of the infected and the hearts of scared and panicked men, one by one his family would succumb to the world around them. His father and his sister at once in the gnashing jaws and raking hands of a horde, and his mother a month later to malaise born from the event. She left him a note to wake up to, and became one with the forest around their campsite.
Cassian looked, but never found her. Spotted through the remotest parts of Maine would be three cairns, none of which marked anything below them.
The push westward was lonesome and hard on the heart, but... easier in practice. Moving by himself came with little concern other than for his own well-being -- no-one to lose in a hectic retreat through the woods, or to worry about when it came to alerting threats. It made the final stretch to Canada much quicker than all the progress he'd made beforehand.
Yet, Canada provided much of the same. People killing people, hordes of the shambling infected, and ghosts of a world that had only just died.
Instead of go further, he settled on the far outskirts of Quebec City. A small community existed there that he slowly warmed to, and made a life in as an outlier. Never really a part of the inner-workings, but rather just someone who floated around as an outlier. The first months were difficult, of course, but as months turned to years, his familiarity with the outdoors grew to be his profession -- a scout, charting the land for the nearby settlement, running reconnaissance in exchange for tools, currency, favor.
Though just as he'd planned to officially join the now budding settlement, another emerged in the fray and brought the area to small-scale war. Neighbors turned into adversaries again in the wake of the second collapse, and his affiliation with the community was known to their enemies. He became a target, one to be erased if only for closure for a zealous faction.
Rather than fight or surrender to the hands of a cult-like organization, he fled south into Vermont and lands he hadn't had need to venture into until now. It should've been a simple end to a chapter in his life, but as he continued south, the branches of trees were slowly becoming decorated with hanging effigies. Rotten leathers, strung between sticks and vines -- limbs marking territory boundaries, mass graves of fresh and emaciated and decayed bodies alike. It was becoming very clear that rather than flee from these people who aimed to conquer the area, he was only going deeper into their lands.
What was more concerning, though, is that regardless of what direction he diverted to, the symbols and their presence remained. The sun would set upon macabre hangings, and it would rise over lukewarm settlements, still smoldering from the exercised will of zealots. His travels were beset with narrow encounters with these nameless people and infected alike, and days of having to lay low as he struggled to survive in a hostile land.
It was only when he reached the counties of New York did their frequency wane, and after a week's time of not encountering offerings to a twisted entity did he decide he could slow.
Monroe County seemed just out of touch... but for how long?
Would you like your character to start with any items?
Axe (preferably of a woodsman sort and not a fire axe but hey, either way.)
Hunting Knife
Would you like your character to start with any skills?
Outdoorsman, Inconspicuous, Graceful
Underweight
Is your character a member of a group?
No
Cassian Graves
I Agree
Yes
Has this character appeared in a previous lore?
No
Age
33
Blood Type
O-
Personality
Likely easily summed up as an everyman; Cassian tries to walk a line between having the ability to live with his actions, and survive in a world that grows colder by the day. He has a naturally light-hearted disposition, perhaps indicating his level of detachment from the world around him with his penchant to fall back on gallows humor, ill-timed or not. While he tries to distance himself from some of the actions he's forced to do to survive, the morality is not lost to him, and his desire to be just and kind to those around him often wins over cruelty and greed.
That being said, flight is a very real and powerful influence on Cassian. He's more likely to flake than stand strong, if situations look dire.
Character Motivations
A wanderer from Maine, Cassian seems to be running from something...
Physical Appearance
A recent life spent with sparse meals and long, sleepless nights has taken a toll on his angular features. Bags hang beneath his emerald-shaded hues, and a ragged jawline of stubble lends to the idea that he hasn't much concern for his appearance and that his health has been degraded from months on the road.
More often than not, his expression slips into a soft, tight-lipped frown. He never seems to be entirely untroubled.
Character Image Link
Mechanical Occupation
Park Ranger
In-Character Occupation
Scout / Wanderer
Biography
Born to a fishing family in Maine, Cassian was nineteen when Red Eye swept through the world. Even in his small town on the coast, it was only a matter of time before the full brunt of the infection brought it to ruin and chaos. Neighbors turned to enemies, enemies turned to the dead, and rather than hold down their family home against the world around them, Cassian's family headed inland through water-ways with his father's boat. Canada was the objective -- follow the winding rivers that opened to the minor lakes that spotted Maine until they reached the border where surely things would be better.
They'd never made it, of course. Rivers only carried them so far until they had to forge through land, and none of them were prepared to hazard the hastily drawn-up trek. Between the looming presence of the infected and the hearts of scared and panicked men, one by one his family would succumb to the world around them. His father and his sister at once in the gnashing jaws and raking hands of a horde, and his mother a month later to malaise born from the event. She left him a note to wake up to, and became one with the forest around their campsite.
Cassian looked, but never found her. Spotted through the remotest parts of Maine would be three cairns, none of which marked anything below them.
The push westward was lonesome and hard on the heart, but... easier in practice. Moving by himself came with little concern other than for his own well-being -- no-one to lose in a hectic retreat through the woods, or to worry about when it came to alerting threats. It made the final stretch to Canada much quicker than all the progress he'd made beforehand.
Yet, Canada provided much of the same. People killing people, hordes of the shambling infected, and ghosts of a world that had only just died.
Instead of go further, he settled on the far outskirts of Quebec City. A small community existed there that he slowly warmed to, and made a life in as an outlier. Never really a part of the inner-workings, but rather just someone who floated around as an outlier. The first months were difficult, of course, but as months turned to years, his familiarity with the outdoors grew to be his profession -- a scout, charting the land for the nearby settlement, running reconnaissance in exchange for tools, currency, favor.
Though just as he'd planned to officially join the now budding settlement, another emerged in the fray and brought the area to small-scale war. Neighbors turned into adversaries again in the wake of the second collapse, and his affiliation with the community was known to their enemies. He became a target, one to be erased if only for closure for a zealous faction.
Rather than fight or surrender to the hands of a cult-like organization, he fled south into Vermont and lands he hadn't had need to venture into until now. It should've been a simple end to a chapter in his life, but as he continued south, the branches of trees were slowly becoming decorated with hanging effigies. Rotten leathers, strung between sticks and vines -- limbs marking territory boundaries, mass graves of fresh and emaciated and decayed bodies alike. It was becoming very clear that rather than flee from these people who aimed to conquer the area, he was only going deeper into their lands.
What was more concerning, though, is that regardless of what direction he diverted to, the symbols and their presence remained. The sun would set upon macabre hangings, and it would rise over lukewarm settlements, still smoldering from the exercised will of zealots. His travels were beset with narrow encounters with these nameless people and infected alike, and days of having to lay low as he struggled to survive in a hostile land.
It was only when he reached the counties of New York did their frequency wane, and after a week's time of not encountering offerings to a twisted entity did he decide he could slow.
Monroe County seemed just out of touch... but for how long?
Would you like your character to start with any items?
Axe (preferably of a woodsman sort and not a fire axe but hey, either way.)
Hunting Knife
Would you like your character to start with any skills?
Outdoorsman, Inconspicuous, Graceful
Underweight
Is your character a member of a group?
No
