The Beginning RP- Russell MacKenna

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Name: Russell MacKenna

Nickname: Russ

Age: 29

Pre-infestation profession: Gardener/landscaper

Height: 6' 1/2

Weight: 180lbs

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Dark brown

Personal skills: High physical endurance. Is used to swinging tools and carrying heavy loads all day. Knows some basic mechanical skills.

Physical appearance: Physical: Relatively tall with an athletic build. Has scruffy average length hair and an equally unkempt-looking goatee. Has a tattoo on his upper right arm. Facial features: High cheekbones, relatively thin face, mild cleft chin (although this is hidden by the goatee). Clothing: Wearing a battered pair of Army surplus boots, heavy duty work overalls (colour- 'forest green') with several stains in various shades of darker green, brown and black and his company's name and logo- a black tree on a green background- on the breast. (Overalls are similar in design to these, but without a hood.) Has a black toolbelt strapped round his waist.

Gear: Small items: Multitool, mobile phone (Several years old- would be considered a brick by anyone's standards), wad of clean cloths, roll of tape, half empty packet of cigarettes with lighter inside.

Medium items: Billhook, claw hammer, crowbar.

Large item: None at start.

Personality:

A man of few words, Russell is usually content to let other people make the decisions. However, if he thinks that someone's suggestion/plan/idea is stupid, he won't hesitate in saying so. He's often rather blunt, not wishing to waste time on unneccessary words. He has a slightly crude sense of humour and enjoys gambling, though not to the point of excess. While he chooses his friends carefully, he is extremely loyal to those he does take a liking to.

History: Born in Michigan to a working class family, Russell was taught the value of a job well done from an early age. Although he didn't do particularly well in school, he did better than average in physical and technical activities such as sports and Shop class. Once he'd finished high school, he set about finding work. He secured a job at a factory but was fired a few months after due to budget cuts caused by the business' financial problems. The newer employees were the first to go. He was now one of the Rust Belt's many unskilled, unemployed young men. Over the next few years, he travelled all over northern States in search of work. Five years ago, he managed to get work with Greenacre Gardening and Landscaping, a small company often hired by private individuals and as contractors for various businesses and government interests. Russell has worked on many sites throughout the town including Walker High School.

RP sample:

1352hrs, Suburbs

The peace and calm of the otherwise quiet suburban street was broken by the roar of a chainsaw. Greg Robinson, Russell's boss, was holding it, driving the spinning blade through the trunk of a fallen tree. It was easy work- the tree was rotten. That was why it had fallen so unexpectedly. The owner of the property had been lucky- she'd parked her car just inches from where the branches had hit the ground. Greenacre had been called in to remove the damn thing, and so now three men were cutting it into manageable sections and throwing them into the back of the truck, a battered green Ford Ranger. Greg was cutting the trunk into sections with the chainsaw, Russ was tackling the branches with a bow saw and Ricky, the newest of the three, was collecting the finished product and tossing it into the back. They worked in silence, as the sound of the chainsaw drowned out any possibility of talking. Not one of them noticed the man walking towards them. He was middle aged, wearing a brown suit and looked like he'd slept the last few nights on the street. He walked unsteadily as hough he were drunk. Russ finished cutting through the branch he'd been working on and tossed the section, the length of his arm, in Ricky's general direction. He picked it up and it went sailing through the air to land on the pile already in the truck. He moved to where he'd be cutting next and got the saw in position. He pulled it back, ready to start cutting, when a scream sounded and the chainsaw's buzz stopped. Russ looked up and saw the shabbily dressed man tearing a chunk out of Greg's neck. "The fuck?" Greg had dropped the chainsaw and turned round. He punched the man in the face and staggered back. The man's head was knocked back, but he ignored the blow and kept going towards Greg. Russ dropped the saw and moved over to the man, Ricky just behind. Russ slammed a punch into the stranger's guts, the force of it doubling him over. Instead of dropping, he moaned and half-stepped-half-fell towards Russ, hands grabbing at him. He lifted his head, mouth open, and tried to bite Russ's chest. Fortunately, he only got cloth. At that moment, Ricky swung a length of branch at the man's head. It connected with a loud crack and broke in two, the other half flying away. The man fell to the floor. Russ kicked him for good measure. He then ran to Greg, who was sitting with his back against the tree, holding his hand to his wound, muttering "Shit, shit, shit, shit" Russ took one look at it and yelled "Ricky! First aid kit!" Once Ricky had started dressing Greg's bite as best he could, Russ got his phone out. He dialled 911. Busy. How the hell could 911 be busy? He tried again. Same result. "Fuck! Uh..." He looked at the truck. If he couldn't get the docs to come here, he'd have to take Greg to them himself. "Help me get 'im in!" With Ricky's help, Russ managed to get Greg into the passenger seat and buckle him up. To Ricky, he said "Stay here. Keep trying to call the cops. I'll get 'im to the hospital." Ricky nodded. "Good luck." Russ nodded back and got into the driver's seat. He turned the engine on and put his foot down, racing to get his friend to the hospital. On the way, he saw several other people biting each other like that guy had. He didn't get far before Greg turned. One moment, he was holding a bloody pad of gauze to his neck, the next he had passed out and the next he was snarling at Russ, reaching over to bite him. "What the fuck, man?" Russ frantically held Greg away from him, but the distraction caused the truck to swerve off the road. It ploughed into a shop front, spraying shattered glass and produce everywhere. Russ opened the door and staggered out. Greg tried following but was restrained by the seatbelt. Russ saw two other people climbing through the wrecked window. He took a step towards them, saw the hideous wounds on them and realised that they must be like the guy who bit Greg. He slammed the door shut then climbed into the truck bed. Grabbing a log, he threw it at the nearest person. It hit them on the head and they dropped. Russ hurriedly threw open a toolbox and grabbed the first item his hand touched- a billhook. He swung it at the second person's face, who had by now reached the side of the truck and was reaching towards him. The thick, heavy blade tore through the bridge of their nose and deep into the brain behind. He grabbed a hammer and a crowbar as well, put them on his toolbelt and jumped to the floor, glass crunching under his boots.