Post by Luke on Apr 3, 2012 13:26:33 GMT -7
Name: Luke
Other Aliases: The Stranger
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Skin: Slightly pale
Eyes: Cold Blue
Height: 6'4
Body type: A mix between Athletic and Muscular.
Former Occupation: Hitman for drug cartel
Physical Description: Luke always wears his signature long brown leather overcoat and hat, to which he has grown quite fond of. His short blonde hair is just that...short. Luke also sports thick boots. His voice always carries an air of sarcasm.
Nationality: American
Philosophy: If its gunna happen, its gunna happen
Tone of Voice: Luke may be American, but he was born in Ireland. Therefore, Luke has a slight Irish accent. It is only prominent during high stress situations...or after consumption of large amounts of alcohol.
Weapons of Choice: Scar-L with detachable ACOG scope.
Gold Titanium plate Desert Eagle .50 AE with recoil compensator, Muzzle Brake, and an extended clip.
Fears: A slight issue with heights.
Personality Traits:
Positive: Luke assumes the role of "Guardian Angel". Meaning he's always got your back and will never leave you behind.
Negative: While he may not leave you behind, he still might make fun of you for being hit.
Misc. Traits.
Quirks: Luke will always go back for his hat.
Personality: While Luke may appear sarcastic and cold sometimes, he has been known to show a softer side. Sometimes he even adopts a almost..."Poetic" personality during high stress situations.
Theme song: "I dont have a theme song...I have songs I like. But if I had to pick, it would be The Valley Of The Shadow Of Death by The Tossers."
History: Trust me...I'm not that interesting. I was a Hitman for a well known Drug Cartel, just like my father before me. When I turned 12, they took me down to a "facility" in Mexico. There...I was trained in Urban Military tactics, and learned everything I could about weapons and killing. For 13 years I perfected my art, executing targets that ranged from Important Executives, to lowly stiffs who owed money. Dave and Tony, the heads of the Cartel, must of thought I was gunning for their spot. They sent me on a hit that was a trap. Cops busted me on the spot, and I was sentenced for life without parole. 10 years I planned my escape. Me and some friends I made on the inside drew up an escape plan, so I could get revenge on those that have wronged me. The night came, and they hadn't shown up yet. I killed a passing guard for his key and got out of my cell. I took his gun and made my way through the hell hole. It was being overrun by Freaks. I made it out in time, grabbing a boat and heading for shore. Now...if you see Dave and Tony out there...tell em Luke says hi for me, would ya?
Lone Ranger: How'd I end up here? Well, I'm more partial to that story. After I broke out of Antioch, I swore to never again return to my life before. I traveled, mostly on foot, miles and miles to reach my home in the Prairie. House was nice enough, and I had every thing a man could ever dream of. It's what happens when you bend your knee to the Cartel...everything falls into your lap. Anyway...I caught sight of my home for the first time in 10 years. I immediately realized something was wrong. I hired some young gun to take care of the place...Rico, I think it was...and he usually kept the place in pretty good shape for me in the past. Trash all strewn about, some of my windows were broken. Some crazy son bitch tried to break in and take on Rico. So I head in and I call out his name...no response. I check every room in the whole house, not a damn soul in the place. Now, thing about me, is that I keep everything 'special' to me hidden. I went to my bookcase in the study and opened the false panel. And there they were. Lemme tell you somethin...I had never been happier to see my guns in all my life, than right then and there. Course my coat and all thats in there. Keeps the zombies from bitin me...real thick leather. I suit up, but while I'm doin this, Rico decided to finally show up. Heh heh, only it wasnt Rico see? It was one-a them. I woulda never noticed the poor bastard if Bubba hadn't shown up and bashed him in with a monkey wrench. Bubba was the closest thing to a best friend I ever had. He was a big black man, standin at about 6'9, all muscle, I mean big dude. He was my mechanic, came in every once in awhile, made sure everything was runnin right. Anyway, Bubba looked up at me and said "It sho is good ta see ya suh." I could only smile at him. I lifted a M10 off its rack and tossed it to him. "Cmon Bubba, we're hittin gettin outta dodge." Bubba nods and heads for the garage. I'm right behind him, and hes still blabberin on about all this. "These people, they aint right in the head." Bubba turned on the lights in the garage and moved for the truck with trailer attached. "One of em got Rico not too long ago, I thought he was dead." I tossed a Walkie to Bubba. "They're all dead Bubba." I strode over to my favorite bike...Indian. Man it was beautiful, best thing I ever bought. We rode outta there as fast as we could. Been wanderin ever since.
Other Aliases: The Stranger
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Skin: Slightly pale
Eyes: Cold Blue
Height: 6'4
Body type: A mix between Athletic and Muscular.
Former Occupation: Hitman for drug cartel
Physical Description: Luke always wears his signature long brown leather overcoat and hat, to which he has grown quite fond of. His short blonde hair is just that...short. Luke also sports thick boots. His voice always carries an air of sarcasm.
Nationality: American
Philosophy: If its gunna happen, its gunna happen
Tone of Voice: Luke may be American, but he was born in Ireland. Therefore, Luke has a slight Irish accent. It is only prominent during high stress situations...or after consumption of large amounts of alcohol.
Weapons of Choice: Scar-L with detachable ACOG scope.
Gold Titanium plate Desert Eagle .50 AE with recoil compensator, Muzzle Brake, and an extended clip.
Fears: A slight issue with heights.
Personality Traits:
Positive: Luke assumes the role of "Guardian Angel". Meaning he's always got your back and will never leave you behind.
Negative: While he may not leave you behind, he still might make fun of you for being hit.
Misc. Traits.
Quirks: Luke will always go back for his hat.
Personality: While Luke may appear sarcastic and cold sometimes, he has been known to show a softer side. Sometimes he even adopts a almost..."Poetic" personality during high stress situations.
Theme song: "I dont have a theme song...I have songs I like. But if I had to pick, it would be The Valley Of The Shadow Of Death by The Tossers."
History: Trust me...I'm not that interesting. I was a Hitman for a well known Drug Cartel, just like my father before me. When I turned 12, they took me down to a "facility" in Mexico. There...I was trained in Urban Military tactics, and learned everything I could about weapons and killing. For 13 years I perfected my art, executing targets that ranged from Important Executives, to lowly stiffs who owed money. Dave and Tony, the heads of the Cartel, must of thought I was gunning for their spot. They sent me on a hit that was a trap. Cops busted me on the spot, and I was sentenced for life without parole. 10 years I planned my escape. Me and some friends I made on the inside drew up an escape plan, so I could get revenge on those that have wronged me. The night came, and they hadn't shown up yet. I killed a passing guard for his key and got out of my cell. I took his gun and made my way through the hell hole. It was being overrun by Freaks. I made it out in time, grabbing a boat and heading for shore. Now...if you see Dave and Tony out there...tell em Luke says hi for me, would ya?
Lone Ranger: How'd I end up here? Well, I'm more partial to that story. After I broke out of Antioch, I swore to never again return to my life before. I traveled, mostly on foot, miles and miles to reach my home in the Prairie. House was nice enough, and I had every thing a man could ever dream of. It's what happens when you bend your knee to the Cartel...everything falls into your lap. Anyway...I caught sight of my home for the first time in 10 years. I immediately realized something was wrong. I hired some young gun to take care of the place...Rico, I think it was...and he usually kept the place in pretty good shape for me in the past. Trash all strewn about, some of my windows were broken. Some crazy son bitch tried to break in and take on Rico. So I head in and I call out his name...no response. I check every room in the whole house, not a damn soul in the place. Now, thing about me, is that I keep everything 'special' to me hidden. I went to my bookcase in the study and opened the false panel. And there they were. Lemme tell you somethin...I had never been happier to see my guns in all my life, than right then and there. Course my coat and all thats in there. Keeps the zombies from bitin me...real thick leather. I suit up, but while I'm doin this, Rico decided to finally show up. Heh heh, only it wasnt Rico see? It was one-a them. I woulda never noticed the poor bastard if Bubba hadn't shown up and bashed him in with a monkey wrench. Bubba was the closest thing to a best friend I ever had. He was a big black man, standin at about 6'9, all muscle, I mean big dude. He was my mechanic, came in every once in awhile, made sure everything was runnin right. Anyway, Bubba looked up at me and said "It sho is good ta see ya suh." I could only smile at him. I lifted a M10 off its rack and tossed it to him. "Cmon Bubba, we're hittin gettin outta dodge." Bubba nods and heads for the garage. I'm right behind him, and hes still blabberin on about all this. "These people, they aint right in the head." Bubba turned on the lights in the garage and moved for the truck with trailer attached. "One of em got Rico not too long ago, I thought he was dead." I tossed a Walkie to Bubba. "They're all dead Bubba." I strode over to my favorite bike...Indian. Man it was beautiful, best thing I ever bought. We rode outta there as fast as we could. Been wanderin ever since.