((Name: Philip Kindred
Age:31
Looks: Primarily black fur, with a white underbelly, reddish tan forearms, and white 'gloves'. His underbelly 'stripe reaches up to the back of his head, and there is also the same reddish tan color on the sides of his muzzle
Species: Australian shepherd
History
hilip has a history, he just doesn't remember it. All he knows is that he seems to be fairly competent at preparing and trapping meat, good with a rifle and hand to hand combat , and knows a good bit about medicine and it's uses. He woke up in the gyges cryo facility about three months ago, and has since given up on searching for his past. ))
Philip groaned, patting his stomach in a (rather vain) attempt to quiet the rumbling it made
"don't worry, little guy... daddy'll get ya some food as soon as he can." He muttered to himself.
He sighed, pulling the hood up on his olive hoodie, pulling the camouflaged multi wrap over his face (the thing, in effect, was a tube-sock open at both ends. It could function as a mask, a head-wrap, and a balaclava.)
He held a wooden baseball bat in his hands, nails on the end, and lead weights screwed into the thing. The end result was a vicious weapon, that, in skilled hands, could decimate a man with a single hit.
He gulped as he opened the door with a single paw, bat held high in the other.
He made a brief pass of the apartment building, checking for anything alive.
Finding nothing, he set to searching the place, checking behind beds, under beds, IN beds. There wasn't a single place he overlooked. When one's life depends on one's thoroughness, it most definitely pays to be thorough.
When he found all he could, he laid them all on a kitchen table, debating with himself what to take and what not to. He would definitely take the boots, they were obviously of a high quality, likely from a specialty hiking store. There was a can of food that was out, the thing was dented, and he was fairly sure he could see a hole.
Not gonna risk eating that...There was a useful can of food, and a sealed bag of venison jerky. Bagged stuff is much lighter, and honestly just plain easier to carry. He would take both, but save the jerky for later.
Then, there was a nice, wicked looking knive, with a recurve blade and a double serrated saw on it's backside.
He pulled the useful stuff into his backpack, walking out of the apartment with a bounce in his step. Today... He had food for two days! It's true, before he woke up from stasis, the jerky would be a snack, and the can just a third of a day's ration. But now, it was enough.
Topic: Surviving the Apocalypse! (Closed) (Read 13566 times)