Post by vtechguy on Dec 14, 2013 17:51:25 GMT -5
Character Name: Doby Alan Rybolt
Nickname(s): Doby
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 28
Birthplace: Pensacola, Florida
Height: 5'8
Weight: 150 pounds
Eye Color: blue
Hair Color: blonde-brown
Hair Style: messy/shaggy
Facial Hair: brown goatee
Skin Color: white
Build: skinny
Distinguishing Features: N/A
Profession: Computer Programmer/Hacker
Skills: Science, Firearms, Survival
Training: Advanced Hacking
Other Abilities: Good Cook, Sees sights of the past
Apparel: black suit and tie, brown leather shoes
Weaponry: Combat Knife, Varmint Rifle, 9mm
Other Equipment: rum&nuka, gum drops, junk food, purified water
Affiliation: N/A
Religious Belief: Christianity
Sexual Preference: Straight
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Kind, good friend, mixed emotions about trusting
[/img][/center]
One night near the coast of Florida, Doby and Bolton Rybolt were playing a game of caravan near the kitchen. Doby's sixteen year old brother, Bolton, was a cheater. Doby was a twenty-six year old man with no facial hair at the time. He worked as a programmer spying on others for the once called government. As they were playing caravan, a knock on there door was heard. Both of the boys looked at each other. Rarely anyone had visited them. The knock transformed into a bang. The bang progressed into a boot to the door. Doby ran to the closet to get the 9mm. Bolton ran to the kitchen and grabbed the combat knife from under the refrigerator. Suddenly, things had transitioned to something unseen. A man wearing a black mask and holding a shotgun blasted through the door. Two shots were fired! One was a lighter shot to the skull of the intruder. Doby quickly looked around the house and his knees collapsed to the floor. He picked up his lifeless brother who had a shotgun shell penetrated into his chest. Tears ran down the face of the Florida man.
Two years later, Doby had been become a mountain dweller from Rio, West Virginia. A log cabin was planted furmely on top of a huge mountain. Doby had worked hard and valiantly to fortify his home. There was a small community around him. He knew that the mountains who stop any major calamities to erupt again in his life. Doby stood on the porch of his home, spinning the combat knife. Images of his parent's murder at the age of thirteen ran through is mind. Raiders had entered his home and slaughtered his parents. He was in charge of protecting his brother. Now his brother was left deceased. A depressed Doby went to his bathroom and trimmed his beard. Looking at a bottle of whiskey, he had drank it within seconds. Now Doby lied on the floor of his cabin, a drunkard.
