Name: Blake Rosenberg
Birthplace:Los Angeles
Ethnicity:Caucasian
Age:43
Pic/Description:BlakeOccupation:Caravan Leader
Equipment.300 Winchester Magnum (x30)
Remington 700 Sendero Hunting Rifle
Machete
Pocket knife
Atlas
Comb
Immunity:Full
Personality:Fearless, A bit rash, Reckless with his own life but does everything to protect others
Skills:Pathfinding, Street Smart, Marksmanship, Bartering, Leading
Likes:Guns, Whiskey, Being Social, and Helping Others
Dislikes:Idiots, Anyone who wishes to harm others
Fears:Losing those he loves, Losing his atlas, and Claustrophobic
Bio:Blake Rosenberg was originally from Los Angeles, California, where, before the Outbreak, he lived in his small apartment and worked as a cashier for one of the cities many stores. Although a stranger who knew him from the outside would have thought he was just another of L.A.'s many residents, trying to work his way up to the American Dream, any of his rare friends knew that he was actually part of an infamous gang who specialized in selling and buying a variety of illegal substances and merchandise. Essentially, he worked for a black market.
Blake had seen many things during his work with the gang. Many of these things he could never unsee, and wished he could go back and change. Eventually, Blake tried to leave the gang, but it didn't matter after the Outbreak. Almost all of the members ended up dying, either from the virus or from other gangs, and those who didn't went into hiding. Blake left the city after realizing there was nothing left there for him, bringing only a select set of items to bring along. He headed east for Nevada, where he thought he could try to find somewhere to hole up and eventually make a more permanent home. As he travelled through Nevada, Blake met many people in a variety of ways. Usually, he saved someone from getting killed by miraculously showing up at the last moment - which he seemed to have a knack of - or someone else would save his hide when he stumbled upon a danger.
Eventually, Blake ended up with a small group of companions, and since he seemed to have natural leadership skills, he unofficially became the leader. After they became more organized and slowly received more and more members, the group started becoming increasingly good at scavenging for supplies and bartering and selling. This organization ended up taking on the name of The Caravan.
One day while The Caravan was passing through Reno, Blake and a few others decided to scout the area before they set up camp. Blake headed south through town, and walked by a somewhat dilapidated house. He thought nothing of it, as it looked almost identical to the other houses on that street, until he heard the resonating screams of a woman and a small child. He heard gunshots, and instantly he plowed down the door, not thinking of his own safety. As always, he had jumped into the action at the very last moment. It just so happened that this moment was a little later than usual.
Before Blake took out the attackers, two of the people in the house had been mortally wounded. He walked over to the large man laying in a pool of blood. Digging into the man's pocket, he found a pack of old Camels and some very old nicotine patches. He took the cigarettes and left the patches.
Looking behind him, he saw the woman. From the look of it, she was beaten vigorously. Even though she was near death, she had enough energy to tell Blake about what had happened. She explained that the bandits had come to kill the man because he had refused to pay the price for a past favor the bandits had given him. Before she closed her eyes for the last time, she told him that she had a daughter, only two years old, in the other room. She also told Blake that her name was Annette Regine Wörnhör.
Blakes first look at the girl was of her crying in a corner, asking him if her mother was okay. Now they are fighting for their lives.
RP Examples:None
DO NOT REMOVE: 4242564
Posted: Sat Jan 30, 2016 9:45 pm
