Name and/or Nickname: Bronislav Anisimov (Boris)
Age: Whatever he feels like, usually 32. Though he obviously isn't.
Group: Survivor
Role: Jack-of-all-Trades
Personality: Before the apocalypse, Bronislav was what one would consider a stereotypical Russian: Boisterous, drunk, and quick to get angry. Once the apocalypse struck, something broke in him. He was alone at the time, but he saw something that drove him insane. While not usually noticeable, Bronislav is prone to bouts of mad laughter or whispering. Usually, however, he will stay in his old boisterous, drunk self. Old enough to not be fazed by much, he considers his survival most important, believing himself destined for greatness.
History: Born to unknown parents, Bronislav spent a great many of his early years in orphanages across Russia. Many of these were harsh places, prone to the death or abuse of children by the caretakers. Just as any were places of joy, managed by good people who wished nothing but the best for the waifs passing through the system. Befriending the caretakers at each orphanage, he was always devastated when he had to move.
Finally, at the age of 13, he was adopted by Galina and Radimir Anisimov. Taking him to live in Moscow, they enrolled him in school. Helping him make up for the years he had lost due to the orphanage system, Bronislav was able to quickly acquire all the knowledge he had missed. He would often accompany his parents on trips across the country, helping in various service projects ranging from organizing food drives to building houses for the needy. Learning from the experiences, Bronislav grew up a good person, looking out for others rather than himself.
It was during one of these trips that his parents died. Responding to an earthquake in the eastern regions, his parents left him with a family friend. While clearing out rubble from a collapsed factory, his parents found a man trapped inside the basement. Attempting to open the area with a group of workers, the rest of the building collapsed, killing everyone inside. When the news arrived, Bronislav was devastated. 17 at this point, he left the country and traveled to America, getting menial jobs. Eventually settling as a part time mechanic in the town of Fayetteville, North Carolina, he has spent most of his life here.
At the time the outbreaks started, Bronislav was experiencing sever depression as a result of losing his job as a mechanic. In constant inebriation, he slept away the apocalypse as it reached Fayetteville. Waking up to a world inhabited by the walking dead, Bronislav saw it as simply the next step in his adventure. Wandering around the country, he eventually met a group of survivors in Virginia, teaming up with them as a step towards the fulfillment of his prophecy of the savior of humanity. Traveling to Washington, D.C., he hopes to find something to help this goal.
Weapon of choice: Many would consider physical objects weapons: guns, explosives, knives, barbed wire. They are not wrong, but to Bronislav, the mind is a much greater weapon. As a craftsman and time-to-time mechanic, he was able to scrounge up materials and build tools with which to help himself survive. Ranging from things as simple as rocks taped to a chain to more complex items such as an electrified chainsaw with pistols, Bronislav is able to craft almost anything given the time and materials. Sometimes his insanity impairs these abilities, but sometimes it simply creates a strange but useful weapon. One weapon he has kept is Natalya, a modified baseball bat. Heavily modified. Normal enough are the spikes embedded in the frame. Unique is the electrocution system he has devised. Able to conduct a current of energy to the target, it is heavily reliant on batteries. He can also attach explosives to the front, activated via a small hand-pushed piston. Though he has never used it before, he hopes to one day. Natalya has gone through various incarnations as nothing lasts forever.
Habits/Vices: Of his many actions, few of them can be called habits. Chief among them are wood-crafting. Ever since he was little, he had taken an interest in hobby activities. At the age of 7, he received his first whittling knife from one of the other orphans that had been with him for a few years. Without any form of teacher to instruct him in the craft, he was forced to learn everything himself. This has persisted throughout his entire life, with Bronislav becoming quite proficient in the art. He will usually create various pieces for a person as a memento, as well as out of simple kindness. On himself, he keeps two pieces: a small rabbit made when he was 20 in memory of his parents and a trefoil knot made at the start of the zombie apocalypse as a means of immortality. While the actual effectiveness of the symbol is doubtable, he has come to believe the carving is inhabited by a spirit of some sorts. Spreading to other things, he has come to believe that spirits inhabit many things, especially physical objects with some form of magical or spiritual significance. He can be found making such carvings and leaving them in places he believes spirits would desire to be, or as talismans for others.
Are people basically good, or basically evil?: Quite open to most people, Bronislav believed in the natural good of humanity. Part of this may have been the constant inebriation, but even when he wasn't, he always looked for the best in others. This attitude was imparted into him by his parents, both of whom were quite active in the community. Believing that most people are good but have simply been scarred by the apocalypse as well as the effects of pre-apocalypse society, Bronislav does his best to help others get through things. While offset by his self-established prophecy, he had a great many friends both before and after the apocalypse. Most are dead, and the rest he has no idea what happened them. Despite this, he believes that humanity wants to naturally support itself and has instead been corrupted by society.
Physical Description: At only 5'2" and 130 lbs, Bronislav is smaller than the average man. Despite his height, he is not stocky, giving to him the appearance of a small beanpole. A rather unkempt beard "graces" his face, extending down to his upper chest, running all the way over his lip and the sides of his face. Bald, Bronislav usually wears a bandanna most of the time, usually in a decorative pattern. Small eyes squint out from under heavy brows, lending him a permanently scrutinizing look. He is very spry for his age, more flexible than most people, and quite fit as well.
Bronislav usually wears some sort of pocketed garment. He has two multi-pocketed long sleeve shirts, both tan in color. Both are clean relative to everything else because Bronislav believes clean clothes makes good equipment. He wears a gray web-vest as well, allowing him to stick many items onto it for later use. In addition to these, he owns one pair of sturdy tan cargo pants (with added pockets) and a brown great-coat (also with added pockets). Whenever he has a weapon, it is usually attached to the web vest or else holstered on make-shift cradles on his back or legs.
Writing Sample: Andrew watched as others began entering the coffee shop. First entered a man, quite massive. Standing close to seven feet tall, he was broad, extremely muscled. Scars crisscrossed his body, testaments to various "battles" he had been in. By no means was he a child. In fact, he appeared to be older than anyone else here, including him. Though, appearances did not always match reality. Over the scars lay a plethora of tattoos. If he was correct, some of them indicated membership to one of the city gangs. Certainly something to remember. Chosen of Ares, perhaps? Nothing else would match the man.
Another guy strode in- Chris he said- with a red shirt, blond hair, and dream-catcher necklace swinging around his neck. An interesting choice of attire for someone like him. Especially considering his introduction. He was either quite cocky or attempting to hide some sort of insecurity. Most likely the former, considering the way he sat at the table, feet nonchalantly placed on the top. Now which god had chosen him?
Following Chris was a girl dressed in what would be considered goth or emo attire: all-black makeup, black t-shirt with a stylized cross design, black pants with a skeletal hand-print, and white shoes. Quite an eccentric choice for a meeting such as this. Maybe she normally dressed like that. Or maybe she was attempting to make a statement, though what it could be he could not guess. Scare away her Bonded, maybe? And it may have been stereotypical, but Andrew assumed she was the Chosen of Hades from the attire provided.
Another man stepped in, seemingly older just as the first person to come in after him had been. Now this was certainly an enigma. Standing fairly tall, the man was well-built, though not towering as the first person. Other than that, he was nondescript enough, wearing a simple shirt and jeans. Now who could he be? Something to figure out for later, perhaps.
A server walked up to the girl who had been here before him, handing her a basket of some sorts. Perplexed, he realized that it was simply a receptacle for name tags. It seemed she was the Chosen of Dionysus. And her companion was the Chosen of Artemis. A unique match up. As she approached him, he smiled softly. She was quite shy, much like him.
“Hello. I suppose I am supposed to hand these out...or something? I'm Kat, Chosen of Dionysus. And you are?” she asked.
"Andrew. Andrew Harolds. Chosen of Athena. A pleasure to meet you. Forgive me for not greeting you earlier, but I didn't want to disturb your conversation with your friend. An interesting day, isn't it? Well, good luck. I think we'll will need it," he replied, accepting the name tag and bowing slightly in return. Sitting back down, he waited as she handed out the rest of the name tags. They were still missing five people, it seemed.