Post by James T. Wilder on Oct 17, 2012 7:20:14 GMT -8
[/i] case of insomnia
JAMES WILDER
PLAYED BY :JENSEN ACKLES
THE CHARACTER
FULL NAME: James Thomas Wilder
NICK NAMES: J.T, Jim, Jimmy (though he does not appreciate the latter)
PREFERRED NAME: James will do just fine
AGE: Twenty-Seven
GENDER: Male
OCCUPATION: Delta Force
HOME REGION: Southeast
PREFERRED WEAPONS:
Assault Rifles - M4a1, M16a4 and SPR (MK 12).
Hand guns - Glock 22 and Colt M1911a1
Bowie knife
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
James stands at a height of 6'1, and has an athletic built because of the constant training he puts himself through. He has various scars, ranging from small to larger ones along his body from battle, each with their own story behind them. He also has a U.S. Delta Force tattoo over his right shoulder. His facial expressions can give people two assumptions, that he is actually quite kind and harmless, or that he is angry and bitter.
PERSONALITY:
James is a difficult person to understand. He doesn't let his emotions show, so it's hard to read him most of the time, but that's the way he likes it. He doesn't let anyone close enough to start figuring him out. He has a wall that he's been building up over the years to keep everyone out, and he refuses to let anyone break that down. He doesn't talk about anything that has happened to him or anything that is bothering him. In his opinion, it's a waste of time and he doesn't need anyone feeling sorry for him. Doesn't mean that he won't listen if someone needs to talk to him, though there's no guarantee that he'll be compassionate when he does. He's like a rock, unyielding and unflinching, and because he doesn't want to feel, thinking that it's easier that way.
Part of the reason he comes across as cold is because James is a soldier through and through. He has seen battle, been in the heart of humanity’s ugly side, and traveled down that deep dark place that soldiers go after constant combat. He is very rough around the edges, giving people the vibe that he doesn’t like to be bothered. Some people, the rare few that get past that wall he built up will find someone who just wants help. A person trapped in his own past and is drowning from his sins. He is a loyal, dedicated companion to those he trusts (though earning is trust is very difficult) and can even give off some wisdom every now and then. He isn't afraid to die, in fact he encourages his enemies to kill him and show no mercy. His ability to read people is unparalleled and often leads to his more skeptical nature.
Despite James' obvious skepticism, he is far from judgmental, considering his long list of sins he committed before the world went to shit. He accepts people for who they are despite what they have done in the past, though that does not stop him from getting suspicious from those who seem a little too secretive. He tries to keep his skepticism in check, being more subtle about it and doing his own investigation if needed.
Habbits/Quirks:
- Defaults to sarcasm rather than the truth when talking about himself
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Fears:
Weakness:
LIKES
DISLIKES
HISTORY BEFORE:
James was born in a small place in Missouri called Piedmont on the 21th of februari, 1985, and is the youngest of two sons to Carl and Luci Wilder. His father was an Army Ranger and away from home a lot, while his mother was a nurse at the local hospital, a caring mom towards her children and a loving wife to her husband.
When both James and his brother Lucas (older by 2 years) were old enough, their father would take his sons out camping with him whenever he managed to scrounge up some time on leave. Each time they stepped into the wilderness, he taught them something else, and they had to remember each lesson. Carl made sure of it. It started with self defense. All those hand to and skills he learned in the military came down the pipe to his boys. Then after that the camping came. Survival skills, hunting, finding their way through the wild. Carl taught his sons all of that because he knew they were going to follow his footsteps. Both boys developed their own personal strong points, though for the most part, their foundations in survival started early. By the time they had both reached thirteen, surviving out in the wild was second nature.
Schooling was an afterthought to their father, but luckily their old man was on leave when it was time for James and Lucas to hit the books again. Their mother kept on them when it came to studying. They already caused enough problems getting into fights, using what their father taught them against bullies and whatnot. Yeah, they got their share of suspensions and detentions. All worth it, but, that seems like such a long time ago.
James was just picking up his driver’s license at the age sixteen, when Lucas was the first one to leave the nest to hit boot camp at the age of eighteen. Contact between the brothers became sparse after that, especially when it became James' turn to join the military two years later, having graduated from high school with average grades.
Boot camp was easier for James than it was for most of his fellow recruits thanks to his father's excessive training during his childhood. After scoring high on the ASVAB, and completing Army Airborne School, the Ranger Indoctrination Program and Ranger School successfully, James was being assigned to 3rd Ranger Battalion soon after. There he did Special Operation missions for his country for an added two years before he went into the U.S. Army Special Forces and became a Green Beret. He served in several missions classified as “suicide”. After one of his most successful missions, he was invited to join the Delta Force which he gladly accepted.
DURING APOCALYPSE:
The world went to hell after that and it didn't take long for the U.S. Government to fall under the virus that turned millions upon millions of people into mindless, flesh-eating monsters, and with it the U.S. Military. James lost his whole team during a mission for reasons he could not explain. He was sent home before the remnant of the U.S. military was completely defeated. What he found there was nothing more but deserted streets and boarded up houses, the stench of rotting bodies pervading the air.
Shaken, James returned to his home to look for his family, and only seconds after he got there, he was attacked by his first walking dead. All he remembers, though, is being tackled, knocked half out of his mind before he heard one of the household hunting rifles go off. After that he was out - like somebody flicked his light switch. James didn’t wake for hours, but when he did, he was in the back of his father’s Jeep Cherokee with his father driving. The back of the vehicle was stuffed full of clothes, supplies, rifles a couple handguns and tents. His mother had already been claimed by the virus only days before...
About three weeks after leaving Piedmont, James lost his father, too. Not by the virus or even one of the walking dead - just by another human with an itchy trigger finger. His father's life was ended in a deserted hotel kitchen. They were just looking for supplies; they had no idea that there was a family down there. The second James saw his father drop to the ground - the last family he had left - he just snapped. He beat that man to near death; couldn’t stop himself until he saw the man's kids in the corner watching.
Ever since then James traveled alone, drifting from one town to the next, always moving and only helping those that he runs into along the road. But his trust has become an elusive thing, for in a world as broken as this, no one is who they make out to be.
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:
The whole world was in shambles. Streets were vacant, doors were closed, and all establishments were empty. With every passing day, anyone's chance of survival became a little bit bleaker, a little more darker. Sometimes, James couldn’t help but wonder why exactly it was that they still fought. To prove that they hadn’t given up, maybe? But who was left to prove it to - the infected? The thought was laughable. They were animalistic, feral, mindless; he doubted that they still had the brain capacity to understand anything beyond their hunger for the living. As long as they had flesh to tear off with their teeth, they didn’t seem to care about much else. It was their main priority in any case.
Perhaps it was to prove it to themselves...
James soundlessly made his way through the shredded remains of the - so far - empty street that would lead him to his destination, his gun constantly drawn, his ears bristling at the slightest sounds. It was night time currently, the silence surrounding him thick, the air chilly. His supply of weapons and ammo had finally dwindled to an uncomfortable low, forcing him to leave the saver surroundings of the wilderness and go back into the city, a city that was now crawling with the infected. That had been the real challenge - to get there without being seen by the walking dead; his way over hadn't been without incident and it had cost him more bullets than he would have liked. In any case, he felt lucky he'd made it this far unscathed.
Finally he reached a large building with a garage door. In the past, before the virus had hit, James had been to this military base a lot of times, mostly for briefings and re-outfitting. He knew of the small weapons armories and the big weapon caches inside the place. However, more than likely they were all cleaned out - either by the military itself or gangs. All except for one in particular, he hoped - it was kept a secret except for Delta Force operatives. He'd been in there a few times and if it had remained a secret, he should no longer have a problem with his weapon situation soon.
James looked at the keypad next to the garage door and sighed, closing his eyes to see if he remembered the code. It had been a long time since he used it to get in the building. He pressed a four digit number, only for the red light to beep on, signaling him that he was wrong. He tried again… then again… and around the tenth time, he growled softly in frustration, punching the keyboard. Suddenly the green light showed as the pad malfunctioned.
The garage door opened and James smiled. "Open Sesame," he said with a big grin as he walked in, checking behind him to make sure no one was following.
Once inside, he pressed a button which closed the garage door once more, making the room almost pitch black until one light above a door turned on. Next to the door was a keycard access slot. It was something James stupidly enough hadn't counted on. Fuck. Maybe getting inside the armory wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought, but he wasn't giving up yet. From a sheath that was clipped to his belt, he pulled out a knife, putting the tip of the blade into the small slot and working its way down. He felt it jam on something and he used the palm of his other hand to hammer the dagger, creating an electric charge. The green light beeped on and the door opened. <br><br>
"It’s like riding a damned bicycle," he stated as he went through the door, walking down the stairs and into a dark room. His hand reached on the wall, finding the light switch. He flipped it up and red lights turned on, revealing the huge room with massive amounts of weapons. James' eyes lit up when he saw almost every single weapon you could think of.
"Holy mother of Jesus…" he said to himself. It was untouched, almost every weapon was racked and there were loads of weapons. In the very back cage had a great amount of ammo, enough to last a single person in this world a life time.
He sheathed his knife again, then holstered his gun, not wasting any time. He looked around and found a black duffel bag, putting it on one of the counters before grabbing his favorite weapons. He grabbed a harness for all the holsters, putting it on him, loading it with pistols and magazines.
After loading a couple assault rifles, submachine guns, and enough ammo for him, having put all of that in two duffel bags, he finished up with a machete, holstering it on him. For some reason James now felt complete. Closing up the weapon cache, he went back upstairs and shut the door before taking the back way out of the building. All he had to do now was to find a working vehicle that could carry him and these weapons, and so he walked out in the open, not really caring if anyone saw him now as he headed towards the motor pool.
Perhaps it was to prove it to themselves...
James soundlessly made his way through the shredded remains of the - so far - empty street that would lead him to his destination, his gun constantly drawn, his ears bristling at the slightest sounds. It was night time currently, the silence surrounding him thick, the air chilly. His supply of weapons and ammo had finally dwindled to an uncomfortable low, forcing him to leave the saver surroundings of the wilderness and go back into the city, a city that was now crawling with the infected. That had been the real challenge - to get there without being seen by the walking dead; his way over hadn't been without incident and it had cost him more bullets than he would have liked. In any case, he felt lucky he'd made it this far unscathed.
Finally he reached a large building with a garage door. In the past, before the virus had hit, James had been to this military base a lot of times, mostly for briefings and re-outfitting. He knew of the small weapons armories and the big weapon caches inside the place. However, more than likely they were all cleaned out - either by the military itself or gangs. All except for one in particular, he hoped - it was kept a secret except for Delta Force operatives. He'd been in there a few times and if it had remained a secret, he should no longer have a problem with his weapon situation soon.
James looked at the keypad next to the garage door and sighed, closing his eyes to see if he remembered the code. It had been a long time since he used it to get in the building. He pressed a four digit number, only for the red light to beep on, signaling him that he was wrong. He tried again… then again… and around the tenth time, he growled softly in frustration, punching the keyboard. Suddenly the green light showed as the pad malfunctioned.
The garage door opened and James smiled. "Open Sesame," he said with a big grin as he walked in, checking behind him to make sure no one was following.
Once inside, he pressed a button which closed the garage door once more, making the room almost pitch black until one light above a door turned on. Next to the door was a keycard access slot. It was something James stupidly enough hadn't counted on. Fuck. Maybe getting inside the armory wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought, but he wasn't giving up yet. From a sheath that was clipped to his belt, he pulled out a knife, putting the tip of the blade into the small slot and working its way down. He felt it jam on something and he used the palm of his other hand to hammer the dagger, creating an electric charge. The green light beeped on and the door opened. <br><br>
"It’s like riding a damned bicycle," he stated as he went through the door, walking down the stairs and into a dark room. His hand reached on the wall, finding the light switch. He flipped it up and red lights turned on, revealing the huge room with massive amounts of weapons. James' eyes lit up when he saw almost every single weapon you could think of.
"Holy mother of Jesus…" he said to himself. It was untouched, almost every weapon was racked and there were loads of weapons. In the very back cage had a great amount of ammo, enough to last a single person in this world a life time.
He sheathed his knife again, then holstered his gun, not wasting any time. He looked around and found a black duffel bag, putting it on one of the counters before grabbing his favorite weapons. He grabbed a harness for all the holsters, putting it on him, loading it with pistols and magazines.
After loading a couple assault rifles, submachine guns, and enough ammo for him, having put all of that in two duffel bags, he finished up with a machete, holstering it on him. For some reason James now felt complete. Closing up the weapon cache, he went back upstairs and shut the door before taking the back way out of the building. All he had to do now was to find a working vehicle that could carry him and these weapons, and so he walked out in the open, not really caring if anyone saw him now as he headed towards the motor pool.
PLANS: Since the apocalypse started, James hasn't heard a word of his brother. He wants to know whether Lucas is still alive or not - after all, they both had the same training; both have the same survival skills - and possibly find him if he is.
ANYTHING ELSE?: No, ma'am.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GO BY: Souls.
ROLEPLAY LEVEL: Intermediate to advanced.
HOW DID YOU FIND US?: Through an ad.
PASSWORD:*****
TIME ZONE: CET.
GO BY: Souls.
ROLEPLAY LEVEL: Intermediate to advanced.
HOW DID YOU FIND US?: Through an ad.
PASSWORD:*****
TIME ZONE: CET.
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