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Shannon Finley

Wandering Wild Man

0 · 118 views · located in Haven Universe

a character in “No Haven”, as played by Black Hoodie

Description

Name:

Shannon Finley

Gender:

Male

Age:

34

Date of Birth:

October 13th 1980

Place of Birth:

Ayr, Scotland

Approximate Height:

5 feet 11 inches

Approximate Weight:

199 pounds

Build:

defined and lanky on a sturdy set of bones

Hair Color:

Reddish orange

Eye Color:

Dark Blue

Pre-Outbreak:
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Even at a young age, Shannon was thrust into the world where the weak were devoured and the strong rose to the top. Because of his large family, he had plenty of aunts and uncles he could be loaned to after school to help with their work. Since he was seven years old, he'd been tasked with taking care of chickens, horses, and other animals, as well as cleaning and maintaining stables, boats, and a multitude of equipment and gear. He also joined the workforce at a very young age, helping his uncles with their fishing and transport boats off the coast for measly wages when he turned eleven. He finally got his break a few years later when he started carpentry, lying about his age in order to gain an apprenticeship. By the time he was eighteen, he was a full fledged journeyman.

In the following sixteen years, he traveled to and from Germany, honing his carpentry skills, eventually adding roofing and framing to his repetiore. It was during his time off that he would learn the joys of hunting. The activity leant itself well to his upbringing, and every chance he got, he would take trips into the wild to stalk and kill his prey. His life began to eventually revolve around planning trips into the Arctic circle, his love for the activity turning more and more into a lifestyle than a mere activity. When the apocalypse occurred,  he wasn't anywhere near civilization. He was just finishing his trek into the Scottish wilds, and returned on horseback to his parents cabin, unaware of the danger that awaited him on his return to Ayrshire.

WIP

Post-Outbreak:

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Upon the discovery that the world had gone to shit, Shannon made the immediate decision to find his younger brother, Finnick. He was the polar opposite of Shannon; Finn played video games for a living, coasting off the success of his YouTube channel. He wasn't physically as tough or capable, but he had a sharp mind and a quick wit. He was the only one to have left Ayr, which meant he was the one most likely to still be breathing. With his brother in tow, he would retreat back to the wild, safe from the horrors that had befallen society.

Finnick lived much further south, just outside of London. Because Shannon opted to ride on horseback instead of by car, the journey took longer than it would have, but Shannon felt safer with the maneuverability of hooves underfoot. He attempted to stay away from the ruins of large settlements as much as possible, and avoided contact with the living just as much. Unfortunately,  it didn't quite work out as well as he planned, having to take major detours to avoid hordes of undead, roving bandits, and to scavenge supplies. His skills as a hunter saved his life on multiple occasions, but it did nothing to dissuade the pursuit of desperate people who wanted his horses and his gear. Though he was the hunter, ever since crossing the boarder, he felt like he was the one being stalked.

WIP

Skills:

Shannon has spent a considerable amount of time using his hands, and is no slouch when it comes to hard labour. He might not be able to run as fast as other survivors, but he can demolish a door and board it back up faster than anybody around. With the ability to live off the land garnered from years of experience hunting and fishing in various places around the globe, Shannon has a distinct advantage over many 'civilized' people.

Equipment:

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WIP

Other Important Information:

WIP

Working off my phone during the day to get content together! D:<

So begins...

Shannon Finley's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shannon Finley

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A gentle breeze wove its way through Shannon’s hair. It was cool, but without the crisp bite that he was accustomed to. Relief might be a word to use to describe the feeling it gave to him, were it not for the fact that he had been walking since before sunrise. He knew the trek would be a long one regardless of whether or not he encountered anybody, or anything, that had less than desirable intentions, but it was taking its toll on him. It wasn’t so much that he was walking instead of riding, but that he had to find his own food, cover up his tracks, feed his horses, keep a lookout for trouble, set up camp, cook his food…it was a miracle he made it as far as he did with as little trouble as he did. In order to make up time, he’d decided to walk without a break, taking occasional sips from his water bottles and stuffing his face with handfuls of nuts or jerky. Huffing in disapproval, Birch shook her head and pulled slightly on her reins. Apparently Shannon wasn’t the only one who was feeling more than a little deserving of some rest.

Sally and Birch, his two horses, were primarily there to carry his gear and to keep Shannon company. The Clydesdale horses were strong and tough; engineered through generations of breeding to be capable workers, Shannon saw much of himself in his two companions. Like them, he was raised to be tough. If you weren’t, then you’d be food for the wolves. In current times, it was more likely to be literal than figurative, and that hammered the point home even more.

“Looks like I’ve won that bet Sally. Birch gave in first.” Shannon whispered in a gravelly voice. Sally stomped her hoof in disapproval, cocking her head back in defeat. “That’ll be another catch fer ya ta hold come tomorrow.” They were between hills, with small copses of trees littering the area. Shannon threw Birch’s and Sally’s reins around the branches of a young sapling and quickly fetched them a couple of apples. “I’ll be back.” Seemingly indifferent to his words, the horses continued to munch on their apples as Shannon made his way towards the far hill.

He walked with a cautious air about him, as if there was danger lurking around every bush. His strides were long and quiet, his head swivelling about as he made his way to the crest of the hill. Once he was close enough, he knelt down, and after a quick glance behind him, laid himself on his stomach. Crawling forward army style, his hand left the hammer he used mostly as a walking stick, and came upon the binoculars strapped around his neck. They were likely one of his most valuable pieces of equipment, allowing him to see further than the wind could carry a scent. They were also likely to be his most expensive piece, even more so than his bow. With the pristine clarity they provided, Shannon surveyed the expanse before him.

Like the hill before, there was nothing of immediate interest. Shannon breathed deeply, thanking whatever pantheon of deities was available for the break in trouble. Grabbing the hammer, he stood, brushed himself off, and made his way back to his companions. It had been a hellish couple of weeks, having to deal with a pair of hooligans that were harassing him. He wasn’t sure where or when they had begun to follow him, but they had caused Shannon nothing but grief. They scared away all the game that Shannon was attempting to stalk, attracted unwanted attention from the rotters that Shannon often had to deal with himself, and even managed to steal some of his supplies when he wasn’t looking. Why they didn’t just take his horses, or kill him in his sleep was a thought that was constantly on his mind. Maybe they were just trying to piggy-back their way to safer places. Or maybe it was just easier for them to let the hunter do all the heavy lifting. Whatever their intentions were, it didn’t matter anymore. Shannon managed to use a large horde of rotters to outmanoeuvre the parasites. It was one of the few times that Shannon had ridden atop Birch, pushing her and her sister to their limits as they galloped through the masses of dead flesh. Ever since then, there’ve been no signs of their nuisance.

“She’s all clear girls.” Shannon mentioned to the horses as he unstrapped his rucksack. Letting it fall to the ground, he took the opportunity to find a few minutes of rest as he sat down at the base of a thick tree trunk. The sun was high in the sky, which meant he had another six hours before he needed to set up camp for the night. He took a large swig of water, and stared up at the sky. The trip he took up north was only supposed to have lasted a couple of months. When he came back down, it felt like the trip had taken a permanent extension. What was two months spanned into twelve, the conveniences of modern society stripped away. The scent of death carried a long ways, and there weren’t many days that Shannon hadn’t caught a whiff of its sickly aroma. For the moment, he was free of it, and as he took in the bottle of water and the fresh air, he closed his eyes. They remained closed for several minutes, as he let his mind wander.

Refreshing.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, wondering if the world had changed in the small amount of time his eyelids had taken the world away. It was a fleeting moment, but he revelled in its reprieve from the toils of the day. Once again he would don his pack and be on his way. It would be many hours before they would stop, making camp in a rocky hilltop. Once they each had their meals, and Shannon had set up a noise trap around their perimeter, they each laid down to rest. It wasn’t long before he was abruptly woken to the sounds of Birch and Sally whining and stomping their feet. They noticed something while he was asleep. They only ever acted that way when the undead were afoot. Shannon shot up off his cot and grabbed onto his binoculars, quickly scanning the landscape. The sun hadn’t quite set, the remaining light giving his binoculars enough clarity as though he were looking upon a landscape bathed in midday sun. It only took him a few seconds to figure out where they were. There were hundreds of them, if not more. The horde of zombies were quite a distance away from where the three of them were, but they were downwind. They weren’t in any immediate danger, but it would be foolish to stick around, especially if even one of the damn rotters spotted the embers from his fire. Shannon stowed his binoculars and went about wrapping up his camp, trying to keep Birch and Sally calm in the process.

It was going to be a long day yet, that was for sure.