NAME
Evan Michael Bridger

AGE
Evan's 19 years old last summer.

GENDER
He's a man.

GANG
Evan doesn't know much about 'gangs', but he DOES know that there's a group trying to secure the Key to help people.

WEAPONS

Evan owns this nice Marlin rifle with a folding stock on it; he usually keeps it around for home defense, and it was the one he used when we got raided by the bandits, and as far as I know, he uses it for hunting, too. He's a crack shot with it, I've never seen that man miss anything he's shot at in his life; if I gave him a scope to put on it, he'd be able to knock buttons off a coat on the other side of the world. He's also got a couple of pistols that look like my Grampa's pistol, and he took them with him, too. He was carrying them in his belt, just kinda tucked into there with the handles sticking out, and it made me a little concerned, like he wanted to put one in each hand when he needed them.


It made sense that his wife told me that he also took his father's two .45 revolvers, which made me realize that the only guns he took were in .45. Guess he didn't want to waste time in switching ammo if things went bad, and I guess I understand that, carrying three different types of ammo myself. The only thing that's disconcerting to me is the fact that he seemed ready for a war; last time I saw him, I asked him about it, and he says to me, "'I don't want to get killed from lack of being able to shoot back."

PERSONALITY
Evan's a fun fella who's always got a joke to tell, even if it's a bad one. He's got this quality about him that seems so right and so admirable, and it's really pretty inspirational to know that people like him exist. Sometimes, he's a bit of a flirt, especially at Winter Festival, much to his wife's annoyance, but it's all in good fun. Sometimes I think that he can't really help himself, because he's just got a friendly soul that can't really be filtered, even by love. It's when he gets serious about things that I get concerned about him; when a group of bandits came charging down Earbob Road looking to pillage and plunder our little community, we managed to fight them off with enough resistance that we've never been bothered again. Evan wanted to round up a posse and go "finish what they started", wherever they may have gone. Of course, we didn't, but he had a fire burning behind his tongue that mere necessity quelled long enough for him to not care anymore. Now, with him trekking out to find this "Key", he's armed himself to the teeth and is probably looking for trouble. He's a passionate man, and that's definitely one of his redeeming qualities, but it's leading him right into the heart of a sin so evil that it destroyed everything, a sin so blinding and corrupting that Earbob Road has shut itself away from it all.

BIOGRAPHY
The Bridger family's prided themselves on owning land longer than anyone else on Earbob road, as far as they know. Evan likes to tell me about Moses Bridger, who built the first cabin out on their land and started raising chickens and goats and pigs. They had a lot of help back in the day, and once they began prospering, the promise of field work only brought out more and more people, some good enough people that later Bridger family members sold them land to sew their own crops. As time progressed and technology advanced, they didn't need as many people, and now it's an easy enough operation that Evan can complete a day's work with his two brothers, his wife, and his two daughters without breaking anyone's bones. Evan's personal history is just that, personal, so I don't know much more about him, nor have I ever asked out of respect. I do know that he's become so obsessed with "The Key" that he left his whole family and our community behind so that he could go find it, and expects five guns worth of trouble wherever he may go. Now I'm on the trail to bring him home, unless he convinces me otherwise.

[b]OTHER[b]

Evan owns an old fiddle that's been in his family forever. The woodworkers of Earbob Road have taken care of it whenever it needed maintenence, and the strings are strong as ever, though he thinks they were replaced at least 20 years ago. He'll play it from first light to last light with nary a flat note unless it's the string's fault, and he's the best musician I know. On the back, one of his ancestors inked in the word HOPE, which I think is a nice touch.