Posts by Palmpepper

Name: Vinud Dahlberg
Nickname: Bor
Gender: Male
Age: 15
Weapon(s): A firefighter's axe that he found in a burnt out building. It's pretty high quality, even if it didn't work for it's original purpose well.
http://dayzintel.com/wp-conten…3/11/firefighters-axe.jpg
[img width=510 height=221]http://dayzintel.com/wp-conten…3/11/firefighters-axe.jpg[/img]
Picture:
http://reelshorts.ca/wp-conten…/Children-of-the-Dark.jpg

http://www.branded-clothing.co…t---midnight-blue_346.jpg
Strength: Having been born in an 'Eat or be Eaten' world, Bor was raised by his Grandfather until the age of 7, when his Grandpa was ambushed and left for dead a few miles from their home, a commercial fishing boat converted into a hideout. Since then, he's lived alone, isolated from the world save for the walking dead. No one really wants to search an infested-looking boat, after all. He's grown a strong sense of self-sufficiency from being alone all these years, having set up several elaborate food traps within distance of his home.
Weakness: Due to having no reason to live other than simply not dying, he'll often do reckless things without thinking anything of it, killing whatever he can to survive. Also, since he's been alone for some time, Bor is extremely paranoid of other people, and has next to no social skills. He has no qualms about killing someone who steps in his territory. At first glance, he could very much be insane. He isn't though, just very strange.
Other: Surviving here is difficult.

Yeah! Are you gonna wait for other people?

I'm gonna be gone for a few hours in case you start the Rp.

Around a mile from the interstate, nestled deep inside the woods, was an old commercial fishing boat. Bor didn't have a clue as to how it had gotten there, though he assumed it was probably owned by the people that used to live around here, in the burnt out houses he didn't like to get close to.

"Who would want a house in the woods anyway?" He quietly says to himself, "If there were lots and lots of passive people who would want to be alone?" Of course, no one answered. Bor looked up at the warped metal paneling of the boat he was sitting under to avoid the sun. The dang thing was tilted and really hard to walk inside of, but left a nice little area to sit in underneath, even if it was slightly cramped and home to spider webs.

He gathers his legs to his chest, swatting idly at a beetle suspended in a web. There weren't many humans around here nowadays. Sometimes that was good, as a passing zombie hoard didn't usually bother too look. If most of the humans nowadays weren't crazy or worse.

A scream echoed slightly from the east, causing Bor to instinctively grab his fireman's axe and stand up, bumping his head on the hull of his long land wrecked boat-home. He tilted his head, then quickly climbed up to the tilted deck of his house. It was fairly defensive for a ruined boat, you had to have good motor skills to climb up deck.
After a haphazard jump Bor grasped onto one of the nearby tree's limbs and pulled himself up, looking through the foliage in the direction of a field. Of course, he couldn't see much of it due to all the trees, but Bor knew well enough the difference between human screams and zombies.
"And our population goes down yet again due to their stupidity." He whispered to himself. A strong hit to the tree jarred the boy as he scrambled for a better hold, then looked down. "Oh great." Bor thought, seeing two of the undead weakly scraping up at his tree. "How do I get down from here again?" Eh, time for going on the offensive.

Cursing the fact that he had broken the binoculars last cold-season, Bor took one last glance through the muffled leaves, then spit angrily at the now three undead beneath his perch. It didn't seem like there were many in his area, they probably followed the sound of someone screaming in the field. Poor people were in for a fight in a few minutes if they don't get moving.
Bor looked down at his two undead pursuers at the base of a tree, making their loud ghastly noises. Well, this won't do. He snarled, then climbed down to a lower branch, almost within their reach. As predicted, the taller zombie grasped at the edge, pulling down the already weighted branch. Bor inched back, then swung his axe down at the zombie's moldy skull.

Not expecting anyone to attack the other zombie, Bor lost his handle on the branch and fell to the ground, axe sticking into the dirt a couple feet away. He stared in horror at the taller male, but then quickly grabbed for his axe and bludgeoned the creature that the unknown man had stuck in the back's head in. Bor then glared up at the man for a second, ready to grab his weapon and bolt as soon as the man moved.

Distracted by the male in front of him, Bor didn't notice the other teenager standing several yards away. He made a noise similar to a growl instinctively, tensing his underfed muscles. Slowly, he reached over to his axe, lodged in the head of the first zombie, then quickly pulled it out taking bits of rotted skull matter with it, bolting to the safety of his boat house a little bit aways. Dangit dangit dangit dangit!!

His home was crooked, looking like it could fall apart at any time and covered in plants, permanantly rooted into the ground. A few ragged tires and some steel bars were nestles in a thicked a bit away. Some others might, but Bor didn't have a problem getting up though, he'd lived there most of his life. He scrambled over the edge, landing heavily on his back then staring at the person who had followed him.
Not trusting his underused voice, Bor narrowed his eyes and hissed again, waving his hand awayfrom the boat.

Bor stared down at the boy who seemed to be, well, about the same age as he was. Scooting back when the newcomer reached in his bag, he gripped his axe more tightly, then relaxed when he realized it wasn't a weapon. Well, it didn't look much like a weapon. Bor's eyes widened and he muttered something in surprise when he realized it was freaking peanut butter. He loved that stuff. "Gimmm that peanut butter." Tentatively, he held his hand down and grabbed at the small plastic jar. "And I'll not tack ya."

Bor rescrewed the cap on the small jar after a few bites, hoping to eat the rest later. Noting how thin this nice newcomer, Jake, was, he rolled his eyes and riskily put his hand down again. "Get app here then, Jake." Yeah, this was a really bad idea, a really bad idea, but the guy gave him peanut butter, so....

Bor backed away, firmly holding his axe in his left hand, and frowned at Jake. "You gamme food. You're hungry. I have food." God, how he hated that voice, it sounded so confused and weak. Can't be weak here or people will do awful stuff to you, his grandfather had told him that. "Dya want some canned stiff...stuff?" He grumbled the last word, correcting the warped speech.

"Jake." Bor had already climbed down into the room he called his home inside the boat, and was digging through a large ice chest halfway filled with cans and cardboard boxes. Most of the stuff was expired, but it stayed fairly edible if it was sealed up. "I got food don't like too. You enjoy raisins? Got lots of 'em."

After a pause Bor threw one of the bags of raisins at Jake, then closed the chest and stood by it defensively. "I don't rally like those, it's more winter food than any else. Sub-standance." After a second, Bor remembered the jar in his other hand and reopened the container, shoving the peanut butter in a corner and closing the box. "Go outside now, I'll follow you. Don't need to be inside." Not wanting anyone else in his home for too long a time, he opened up the roof door, already unlatched, and motioned upwards.

Bor tensed when he noticed Philip running off for a second, but turned his attention back to the closer human. "'Name's Bor. Well, call me that. Nishe to meet you, Jake." He put his left hand out for a greeting, but quickly corrected himself with the right hand instead, switching his axe. "Good to meet sommun who does not kill you instantly."

"I don't under-stand why you see cities as a good idea." Ok, both good and bad things could come from this. He'd have to leave his boat, which would not be okay, but the only reason he even stayed was because his grandpa had raised him here. Bor looked at Jake again, sizing him up. "If worst comes to worst I am ditchin your sorry behind and running." Ah, what the heck. There wasn't anything waiting for him here, after all.

"I don't even know why I am goin with you. Stranger going to a big city full of zombies and death everywhere." Bor leaned over for a second to make sure Jake wasn't going anywhere, then jumped back inside his home. Out of habit he grabbed the worn camping backpack he'd found some years ago in an abandoned shack nearby, and started filling it with his goods, sealed plastic bags of cereals and dried berries, a large flask that smelled of old shoe polish, some spare clothes, iodine and a flat notebook. Yeah, couldn't leave that here. Or the peanut butter, of course.
There wasn't much else to pack other than some matches and a blanket. Grabbing his axe and an old hat, who knew what northern weather was like, Bor latched the door shut and skidded down the boat. "I can..... lead you out ofthe maim area if you have not been around long."

Can I save a male part?

Here is le Character!

When do you think the RP shall start?