/Kit Robinson ➟
Rookie, Pitch, and Kitty are common nicknames used for Kit
/AGE ➟
I have accrued Twenty-three years of long and lovely life. Born 05May1998
/GENDER ➟
does your character stand or sit while peeing?
I stand. What an odd question. (Male)
/ROLE ➟
Pawn
/APPEARANCE ➟
Physical appearance:
I like to imagine myself as a rather rugged wanderer with a charming face. Some would agree with that and some would disagree. This face was made for smiling, hatred, and expression. Somewhat rounded cheeks with an angled jaw. I have been told that these eyes are hollowed pits of flame. Is this a fact? Not quite sure… Last time I actually saw my eyes they were brown with red running on the edges and green flecks scattered about. They change with my mood between green, brown, and orange. An intense calm shows green, brown is normal, and orange is any intense emotion that spurs a hunting or fight or flight instinct. This face isn’t something I need to see every day though. Or ever for that matter. I don’t check this stuff anymore. I should be a solid one hundred and eighty pounds. Not much to these tall bones other than muscle. Wish I had some body fat. It’s cold in the winter.. Last I checked I was six ft. two? Oh! And my hair is about as dark brown as my genes will allow. It fluctuates from summer to winter. Lighter in the summer and darker in the winter.
Clothing and accessories:
I wear my ACU with OCP style on it. I do love the comfort of my military uniform, though when I’m not doing anything that involves business of the working variety, I wear a gray hoodie with Blue pants.
/PERSONALITY ➟
General:
Not gonna lie, I have a tendency to get, “lost in the sauce” as the old U.S. Army would say. I often forget what I’m doing and pull some sort of stupid activity to do out of nowhere. That wall needs to be painted white? On it. Paint it black while the white is still wet? Yes sir. Shoot the terrorist? Safe to Auto. My strong suit would be field care for trauma and killing things. I’d through hell and back to save a brother or sister at arms.
Likes/Dislikes:
Likes:
Steak
Fire
Shooting the enemy
Meeting a beautiful woman
Playing with my staby stick.
Running
Fighting people in close quarters.
Dislikes:
Dark spaces
The cold
Being Alone
Failing at given tasks
Running out of Ammo
Forgetting a hated memory. I need those.
Hobbies:
I like sharpening my sword, singing, fencing, sketching, reading scifi and fantasy, and playing with fire. I’m working on figuring out how to throw a fireball like a character in D&D would right now. Still need a sparring partner with proper foil rapiers.
Strengths:
I’m relatively fast for human standards
I am stronger than most, but not exceeding the norms too much.
I am a combat medic. This job has given me a stomach of steel, nerves of a tin man, and the worst dark jokes known to humanity. Not the good worst. The bad ne. My jokes suck.
Weaknesses:
I do have a tendency to care about life a little too much. I don’t want you to die, unless you’re the enemy.
I can’t slow down, I can’t hold back. Though you know I wish I could.
I am only human. I bleed, break and fall. I know that I will die. I hope to do so while fighting.
Fears:
Being alone.
The dark.
Losing everything
Other quirks: any other strange personality traits your character may have
I have flashbacks to a few more unenjoyable events in my life sometimes, not that that is important to anyo of you.
/HISTORY ➟
Born and raised in Beaverton, Oregon. I strongly took to the military life somehow. Place is full of soldier haters. Blegh. I fell in love and fell out. Found strengths and weaknesses. I learned how to build and destroy with my hands and voice. Then I signed up for the Army.
Before I knew it I had been whisked away for Basic Training. Truly an experience like no other. I ran, fought, shot, and sweated. Got to see the world through the eyes of a soldier. God knows how much I hated it after that. But I swore to protect the soil on which I stood, and who am I to back out on an oath?
After that there was combat medic training. It sucked. I think I thought about offing myself at least three times? Hah! I am not selfish enough to do that shit. I pushed through and became a combat medic.
The infection hit us like an IED. America was taken by storm, the government and subsequently my army fell, and we were violently disbanded about this world. I continued to survive, killing my way to Utopia. I figured that I would have died long ago on my little adventure here. I had to shoot a few brothers at arms. My captain fell and offed a horde with a few grenades as he died. I don’t even want to think about what happened to my family. They’re probably gone. I hope they are, because this world is hell. Hopefully they know how to manufacture M4 Carbines and 5.56 rounds in Utopia, ‘cause I’m running from this storm.
/WEAPON ➟
I’m not gonna lie, I have a makeshift flamethrower. It works, I swear!
I have this really beautiful Army issued M4 and ammo to spare, though I don’t really want to share.
I found this sleek Roman gladius with an ebony black oak handle, a brass hand guard, and a marble looking rock on the but as a counterweight. Truly a great sword.
/FIGHTING STYLE ➟
Suppress, cover, kill, rescue, repeat. In that order... You won't die-not while I breath.
/RELATIONSHIPS ➟
*Further editing required
/THEME SONG ➟
