Description
Name: Katchinah Kayna Dwam
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Ethnicity: Apache Indian
Physical Description:
A more rugged, ragged and tattered person, one would be challenged to find, as the little indian girl that stands before you is testament to the harshness that comes from the wastelands.
Katchinah has a rough, dirty complexion, with moderately tanned skin. Her face is dusted with dark freckles across her cheeks and her nose. Her facial features are soft, and tired looking, almost as if currently exhausted, but the way she almost always bears smirk or smile says otherwise. There are wrinkles under her eyes from fatigue, and it's clear she hasn't had much rest. Katchinah's hair is a sandy blonde, dirty from the lack of hygiene, but at least it is put up nicely. The golden locks are pulled up into a tribal bun, with braids hanging off to either side. These braids often have beads, or twine woven into them, to give her hair a bright, outstanding depth. The indian girl has light scarring on her face, across her right cheek, and right brow. Few of these scars really look that old, but none are fresh. Katchinah's left nostril is pierced with a steel hoop, as is the right corner of her bottom lip. On the right side of her face, dark navy facial tattoos span around her eye socket. The tribal meaning for the pattern of arrows is to symbolize that her eyes are open to the world, and that she is more perceptive and wise than she lets on. Surprisingly her ears remain unpierced, although her left one has a triangular wedge perfectly removed from it.
Katchinah's body is almost astonishing to look at. To think a little girl could withstand so much.
To start, she is roughly 5'2; very short, but slightly broad, weighing close to 120 lbs. Her shoulders looked to be a little wider than most girl's- not by a whole lot, but it is clear she was an "A" type body. Decending from her shoulder was her rather slender chest, bearing a very modest, and small bust; perhaps an A-Cup, but a very small one if that. Her belly is flat, and moderately toned, and her arms are slightly muscular, bearing lean muscle instead of bulk. Her hips and backside are unflattering to say the least, and her legs are very athletic; obvious that she runs a lot. and ending her body are quite large feet. All across her tanned, dirty skin are injuries - most of them minor, and none very recent. Scrapes here and there, cuts, bruises, and plenty of scars.
Clothing wise, Katchinah only has one change of clothes, and they're getting quite dirty, and fairly ragged. Around her neck are countless charms, necklaces, beads, frills, and bands... about ten of them. Some of them are quarter-machine junk-pieces, while others seem to be authentic hand-made necklaces. Katchinah's upper body is covered by a brown tank top, with a sports-bra underneath. Her forearms are covered by elbow-length fingerless knuckle-duster gloves; the black leather worn. Across her covered wrists are charms, like the ones that cover her neck. These ones often jingle slightly if she moves very suddenly. Her left elbow is covered by a thick plastic pad, like one worn for skateboarding. Her lower body is covered by a pair of khaki denim shorts, reaching down to her mid-thigh, and her pockets rattle with spare shotgun shells as she walks. She has a holstered Glock 19 on her right hip. Running up her legs, to over the knee are rainbow-striped socks, which are still quite bright despite age. And her big, indian feet are covered up by black combat boots that reach to her knees.
Picture:
Personality
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Personality: Despite looking like she just crawled from some burnt-out hole in the ground after being shot and chased, Katchinah is very bright and peppy. One could go out on a limb and say she is too much so, but in the wasteland, it's good to see a soft, carefree smile. The indian is very happy, and eager to meet other people. While admittedly this gets her in trouble most of the time, she ends up enjoying it in the end. And really, that is her goal in the end. Having a good time. She knows she's not exactly the most likely to survive, so while she does, she is sure to enjoy what she can. She loves to joke around with friend, and really try and make them forget that they're in a terrible situation. Rarely is she in any mood but happy....
Rarely being the key word.
When combat rolls around, the breaks are stomped, and cheerful ragged girl turns in to a hollering, shouting battlefield barbarian, just as her ancestors once were. Her battle cries could strike fear in to those less combat prepared. Her heart is set ablaze, and her passion for battle is never-ending. Or at least towards the undead. With zombies, it's holds-no-bar, kill them all! She still does show plenty of mercy for still living things, and even respect for them.
Sexuality: Pansexual
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Equipment
Weaponry:
Full Size Glock 19 Semi-automatic Pistol
One of the 'Plastic Peacemakers', found it's way into Katchinah's possession. While not fond of the glock's look or feel, she has to admit that it performs without a doubt. Maintainence or not, it will shoot. The full size of the pistol makes it so that you cannot conceal it as well, but, Katchinah doesn't bother with concealment, especially since she has a holster on her hip. She carries not the flush magazines for the weapon, but instead, the extended capacity 33 round magazines. She has three in total. While the weapon is not fully automatic, it's good to not have to stop and reload in the middle of a firefight, or a huge swarm of zombies. The extra weight also helps reduce recoil slightly. The weapon is chaimbered in 9mm Parabellum, a common round, with high velocity, and low recoil.
Lupara Double Barrel Shotgun
A well made double-barrel shotgun, the Lupara is Italian for "For the Wolf". Being a double barrel shotgun, the weapon is very basic; and there is little that can be done to make it malfunction, and thusly, the weapon is remarkably durable. This particular version is 12 gauge, and used more as a sidearm, or a scouting weapon., due to it's rather short range. After 50 feet, you'll be lucky to have all the pellets of your shot hit, but further out there is still a good chance of one or two peppering your target. It's firepower alone makes up for it's lackluster range, as a zombie can be straight knocked flat on it's ass by a well placed shot, and up close, it's quite easy to simply blow the spine in half, rendering your foe a unmovable stub.
Katchinah's War Club and Battle Knife
A deadly combination of melee weapons in the hands of a whirlwind indian. These are rarely resorted to, unless Katchinah needs to reload, cover her allies whilst they reload, or she's just plum out of ammo. Nonetheless, she makes sure that she is more than capable of dealing death with the weapons. In fact, they might actually be her best weapons. She can even throw her knife quite accurately to about 30 feet. The club was looted from an museum, and the knife was passed down through her family.
Survival Gear:
In Backpack
Binoculars
Matches
Bleach
Ramen Noodles
50 feet of rope
Packets of oatmeal
2 liter bottle of water
Signal Mirror
Compass
In Sidecar
Pack of Bic lighters
Sleeping Bag
Inflatable pillow
Basic First Aid Supplies (Bandages, alcohol, disinfectant, things like such; very novice things)
Three Cartons of Cigarettes
Large Case of 9mm Ammuntion (1,000)
Four boxes of 12 Gauge Shotgun Shells (100 shotgun shells)
Two three gallon Jerry-cans of fuel.
Vehicle:
Old BMW -
An older model BMW motorcycle, painted black with the sidecar still attached. Not much to say about the vehicle; other than it runs wonderfully. Katchinah stole it from a band of roaming thugs.
History
Background: Raised in New Mexico and Arizona, Katchinah was not one used to social interaction. She knew three other kids that lived within a mile, and her entire school body was made of 300 people.... which wasn't very good for a social butterfly like her. Raised by both her father and mother, both of which were Apache descendant, she truly learned to embrace some of the more primal ways of the Earth. She did not have a Christian Background; and in fact, was raised in almost shamanistic beliefs. She prays and speaks to the Wind, and in her mind it speaks to her in return. But she was always more of a tomboy. When the Apocalypse hit, she and her family packed up, and headed to DC in their car.
History: As difficult as it is to believe, the family didn't even make it out of Arizona. They long ran out of fuel, and were walking not before long. Had it not been for a band of roaming survivalists, she wouldn't made it out alive. Rescued by the band of people bent on making it to DC, they took the Dwam family into their caravan, and pressed on.
Whilst with this caravan, Katchinah learned much - shooting and other survival skills mostly. A major one was how to ride a motorcycle. But she did some teaching of her own. Katchinah had long ago inherited her father's fighting style for hand-to-hand, and melee weapons, which proved very effective against both the living and undead.
It wasn't long before the situation began to grow worse and worse, and Katchinah's mother fell ill, and passed. Her father was killed in a bandit raid on their little travelling party. And while Katchinah was greatly saddened by their passing, she knew that they were the wind now, whispering on her ear, guiding her with a breeze. Besides, she was kind of the universal 'daughter' o the entire caravan. She referred to most of them as "Aunt" or "Uncle". And they had made quite some distance before the same group of bandits came again, this time, taking her captive.
When they drug her back to their camp, she was held captive for about a month. There, she was beaten, and much worse entailed. However, whilst they were out one day on another raid, Katchinah was able to incapacitate the one guard that was left, before cutting herself free, and helping herself to a generous amount of supplies that they had left behind. Guns, ammo, survival gear... and even one of their bikes, and some gasoline. She set out on her own, now strapped and loaded, evading capture again... and hoping that her caravan friends are almost to DC.
Currently:
Katchinah has been on the road for about a month. Through skills she learned, she has managed so survive... but she is low on fuel...and other supplies as well. She's grown tired of always looking over her shoulder... but that doesn't mean she doesn't stop to help those that don't seem like a threat.
So begins...
Hnnnnggg neeenggnegggh!
The engine of the little BMW roared as the gas was twisted. For a larger cycle, the old-timer held up just fine, and had plenty of 'Umph' behind the handle. Little Katchinah tried to keep herself from grinning, but every time she hear the machine's roar, it reminded her; her daring escape from the bandits that had captured her. How she'd foiled them....
At least in her mind. Really, she kneed a guy in the nads, and left him in the dirt.
The young girl adjusted the goggles protecting her eyes, which were on the road ahead. She had to swerve in and out of the piled up traffic, which was a little harder with the sidecar attached to her motorcycle, but she managed. Not that she would admit it, but she glad that the motorcycle had a sidecar, which made it drastically easier for her. She had been on the road for a long time now, and she was very comfortable with the vehicle. It almost made her sad that she knew the would inevitably have to ditch it. She'd actually grown quite attached to it. The bike could crash through zombies, and could carry four people, although doing so was far from safe.
Katchinah looked up at the road, seeing the dulled greenish sign. While she knew civilization meant zombies, it also possibly meant survivors. And it most certainly meant cars.... and cars had gas in which she could siphon.She wanted to make the stuff in her blitz cans last as long as she could. The Apache girl would feel around her body, making sure that 'Plastic Peacemaker' was on her hip. The last thing she wanted to do was go into a hostile zone completely unprepared. She revved the engine again, and sped up, hastening towards the town.
The sun beat down on the indian as she encroached the outer borders of town, seeing the ruins of buildings; it was a small town - nothing huge, but it would have basic amenities. She debated simply rolling through the town on her 'chopper', but, it would only attract zombies... and waste her precious liquid gold. But she couldn't park it... someone could just as easily stop and loot it. And she needed every bit of supplies she had. After a short debate on which would be worse situation, the indian girl decided to find somewhere and park secluded. She drove a small way into the town, before looking around rolling at a meek ten miles an hour, just looking for a place to park. With a sigh, she finally decided a small alleyway. The L' shaped bend would make sure she had at least two exits. She pulled into the secluded Alley, and kicked the stand down on her bike. Twisting the key, the engine finally died, leaving her to dwell in the blatant silence....
It was unnerving...
Scary, almost....
After a few seconds of peace, finally Katchinah dismounted her bike, picking up the sawn-off shotgun she kept in the sidecar, and picking up her pilfered war club. Her knife was firmly planted in her boot. She tucked the club next to her glock's holster, pushing it into her belt. With a soft sigh, she peered out onto the street. She was quite surprised- no Zombies had come out of the woodwork to examine the sound of her motorcycle. And she heard why; A loud clap of thunder echoed through the sky. Nay, not the thunder that comes with rain, but the ballistic percussion of a large caliber handgun. The thudding of the rounds filled the sky, and hope filled Katchinah's heart. Guns meant people. Perhaps a caravan. Perhaps HER caravan! After all, the leader did carry a Colt Anaconda! She looked both ways out into the street, before cutting across it, and into another alleyway.
With the double-barrel in hand, Katchinah was careful, and jumped lightly if anything moved. She could feel herself getting jumpier... and taking more precautions. Her ears were fully alert, and her green eyes took in all they could. She rolled her feet as she moved through the alleyway, her boots clapping lightly. She carefully rounded a corner, seeing a woman standing, looking out into the street. She couldn't tell exactly what she was doing - something she was sure, but she couldn't tell. She could tell that she was no zombie, by the way she was standing up straight, in a distinct stance. Katchinah jerked her body back around the corner, leaving only her head poking around the corner. She wanted to call out to the woman, but instead, retained silence. She just watched, curiously... wondering what she was doing.
Katchinah listened in softly on the conversation that followed the vehicle-bound folk closing her eyes, and acknowledging the situation. At least it seemed like they all were not bloodthirsty marauders. In fact, they seemed quite peaceful! It eased the Apache girl, making her smile. Someone out of the world that hadn't lost their mind. Aside from herself, anyway. She peered around the corner again, watching as the girl started away, for the gas station as she said she would. She'd begin to round the corner, when she heard a new voice, making her gasp softly, and jerking her body back around the side of the building. She clasped her shotgun close to her body, and silently looked back towards the woman's 'group'.
However, what she didn't expect to happen is for her to taken off guard. Katchinah had not been paying attention to the direction she had came from... and when her head bolted around, she yelped. A zombie was ten feet from her, lumbering at her with large, outstretched arm, and mouth agape. Startled, Katchinah fell over onto her back, directly out into the alleyway. Seeing it's prey had fallen, the zombie hobbled faster, moaning loudly. Katchinah brought the shotgun down from her chest-clenched grasp, and leveled it at the zombie, pulling the trigger on the sawn-off, filling the alleyway with a deep thud. The buckshot blasted chunks of rotting meat through the zombie, revealing the rancid meat behind the skin. The trigger was pulled a second time, sending the pellets through the zombie's spine, and blasting it into pieces. Crippled, the zombie flopped down like a rag doll, it's head at her feet. She instantly scooted away, placing her back against the alleyway wall as she pulled out her Glock. She looked around; searching for other zombies...looking for the other threats.
Before she realized that she had just thrown her position away for the group she was spying on!
Katchinah, out of self-defense, pointed her Glock down the alleyway towards the other survivors. She didn't look very hostile... in fact, she looked more frightened than threatening. Nonetheless, she remained silent, with her gun pointed towards the only other potential threat.
