Jimmy King

Name: Jimmy King
Sex: Male
Hair: Short, Black with grey patches
Eyes: Brown
Height: Average
Weight: Average
Age: 49
Pre-Outbreak Profession: Local Farmer

Weapons: Shotgun(It's a Coach Gun model), Kitchen Knife

Other Items: Pot of Moonshine, some Shotgun shells, a Lighter and a Screwdriver

Description: With a black beard musted with alcohol fumes and old wrinkly eyelids over his aged, brown pupiled eyes, Jimmy's your average man entering those 'Olden Days'. The mutton-chops accompany his beard, showing signs of several grey hairs starting to appear. His neck is elongated, often making him seem taller than he actually is, around 5ft 8. Aging has been as gentle to him as possible, but it just doesn't seem to be trying anymore, what with the heavy wrinkles starting to settle in on his forehead. He's got strong labouring arms and legs, and a slightly toned body from the farming work, but really, it's not much to be proud of.

Background: Jimmy hails from Eastern Scotland, living on the coast as a Fisherman's son. Deep down, however, Jimmy knew he didn't want to be one. So, at the first chance he got, he took up work as a Farmhand. What was typical of this, however, was that the job took place all the way over in America! Jimmy was only 24 at the time, and wasn't quite ready to make such a big move on his own. So, eventually after enough nagging, he managed to convince a few of his friends to move over there with him. Of course, on the way there, they all had a falling out and Jimmy was eventually left in America on his own. To cut a long story short, the Farm's owner died 21 years later with no children to take over and a wife that had moved on as quick as a moth moving to a flame.

In the end, this left the Farm in Jimmy's hands, and he's proved a capable owner ever since, albeit a little bit drunk on Moonshine most of the time...

Hey, good to have you back man. Sorry I killed your other characters
Anyways, glad to see you could find the time to re-appear, and with such a well thought out character too. Consider yourself approved.

And now, of course, the usual problems of entry. Are you happy to be driven past tomorrow (in story-time that is, i.e. after we've finished up with what we're currently doing) or would you prefer to come stumbling through the woods and find us now?

PS, Have you read about the system of largely random forced death that we've instituted?

I'd be fine with being driven past.

Oh, and the death system seems okay I guess... Just hope that Grace Period for me lasts a while...

*Slips some money over the counter and winks slyly*