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Myra Lysander

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a character in “Viral Outbreak”, as played by Turbocs

Description




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{ "I don’t care what the circumstances are - a person is always better alive than dead." }






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|{Full Name}|

Myra Justine Lysander

|{Nickname}|

None

|{Age}|

27

|{Sexuality}|

Heterosexual

|{Weapon}|

Glock 26

|{Location}|

Local Police Department, her husband’s place of work

|{Occupation}|

Interior Designer/House Flipper




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|{Hobbies || Talents}|

Intermediate knowledge of construction | Myra always preferred to be very hands-on in the renovations and redecorations that her clients ordered. While she would never be able to plan or build the construction of a house from the ground up, she knows how to do a handful of tasks such as take out or replace walls, windows, simple piping, etc.

Advanced knowledge of Woodcraft and anything related to textiles | While growing up, Myra's family wasn't in a position to buy a ton of cloths, or room sets, or furniture to appease for her need to change. To compensate for this, Myra taught herself to sew and to work with wood to create the things that she needed. This also had the added bonus of allowing her to develop the skill of envisioning and designing unique projects, something which comes in handy when there is no plan to work off of.

Reasonably in shape and athletic | Myra is a regular hiker, jogger, and biker. She will change up the routes she takes as often as possible to keep a sense of adventure going, but those hobbies have worked her into a pretty good state of fitness.

|{Fears || Weaknesses}|

Little combat experience | Myra was never the type to get into fights. She gets squeamish when she sees blood or any sort of injury. Actually inflicting injury or getting into any sort of conflict would not come naturally to her.

Seeing her family hurt is her greatest fear | She has worked hard to get where she is, and she generally loves for her husband and son. She would do anything to save them from danger, even if it meant risking her own self.

She tends to freeze in dangerous situations | Partly due to lack of experience, partly due to an inability to deal with the stress and fear, Myra does not function well under pressure. At best, she will respond and follow directions if asked to do something, but don't even consider trying to get her to plan or function independently under pressure.

Next to no ability to use a gun or any weapon | Her family was not prone to hunting, nor did she ever take any self defense classes. There has never been an opportunity where she has needed to learn to use a weapon, or to formally put effort into learning to defend herself, so she didn't.




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|{Appearance}|
Myra is a pretty tall woman, coming in at 5’7”, and, though not stick thin, is not especially curvy either. Her hair is blonde, and she is used to letting it hang down. It reaches past her shoulders when she doesn’t pull it back. Her eyes are a very light blue, bordering on grey. Other than the normal rounds of scars from nicks and cuts over the years, she doesn’t really have any marks on her body. Except for a tattoo which she has on her lower back. This “tramp stamp” is a regretful result of some rather interesting transition years and embarrasses her to no end.
|{Personality}|

Loyal, handy, helpful, cautious,nurturing, forgiving

Myra would be the type of person labeled as the 'sensible' member of the group. Always cautious, averse to risk - she is always the one asking "Should we be doing this?" and "Is this really safe?". Myra is more reluctant than others to put herself in a position of potential danger, even if the potential benefits are high.

The 27 years of her life have been filled with more variety than some might think. She is very understanding of just about anything, and usually quick to forgive. After tense situations or upsetting times, she is always willing to lend a listening ear. That said, afterwards, she is prone to giving advice. Solicited or not.

While not inherently selfish, Myra has been taught to plan for the future. Even if she has trouble functioning or planning in the moment of danger, give her a moment of peace and rest and she will plan out different ways that the next few days, weeks, or months could go. So, she has been able to recognize the dwindling state that the supplies in the Police station will be in for a while now, and trying to compensate for it in her own way. Would others get upset if they found out that she was setting aside a portion of the supplies for her own family? Probably. But it's self-preservation, and the preservation of her family, so she does not feel any guilt over it.



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|{History}|
Myra Lysander was born into a blue collar family. Her family was by no means poor, but it could never be said that they didn't work for what they had. Her hometown, where she grew up, was a little midwest town in the middle of nowhere. The first eighteen years of her life were spent in the same home and in the same place. A stationary life did not agree with her, and she grew to be the poster girl for wanderlust.

Before she got the opportunity to leave, Myra did her best to keep her life interesting and to satiate her constant need for change in a number of ways. The most notable of her coping mechanisms is her tendency to redecorate her room constantly. Every month or so, she would throw herself into a major overhaul of her room or space. Color scheme, wall decor, the little knick knacks that give personality - she changed everything. And she was pretty good at it.

So, naturally, at eighteen she packed up and left her little town for a university in the city and a major in interior design. If you asked her about her college years, she would tell you that they were "exciting" and that she "regrets some of her choices". The freedom she found away from her hometown and childhood home was overwhelming at first, and she does not like to talk about those years. However, she did manage to graduate in the normal four years and find employment despite her barely passing grades and performance.

After those unfortunate college years, Myra moved to another city and began work as a "Home Decor Consultant", a fancy way of saying that she told people how to decorate their homes and arrange their furniture and do any renovations to achieve whatever effect they were looking for. She still has bouts of wanderlust, but she her job helps to alleviate some of those pressures and she travels when she can.

Just a year and a half after settling into her new home, she met her husband, Leo. After a bit of a whirlwind courtship, they were married a year later. Just shy of six months after that, Henry, her son, was born. Skip to present day. Her son is now three years old, she and her husband are happily married and both finding relative success in their chosen careers. That was, until everything went to hell in a hand basket.

Because her husband was part of the police force, Myra became aware of the virus before most. After being called out to a few scattered incidents, her husband was able to recognize that things were probably only going to get worse. So, before things got really bad, he moved Myra and their son into the police station. A couple of the other officers had the same idea. The station was fenced and easily defensible, it had an armory ready for use, and the food situation was reasonably secure, for the moment, due to the planning of the families that have moved in.




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|{Face Claim}|
AJ Cook
|{Dialogue Color}|
#816F54
|{Roleplayer}

Turbocs

So begins...

Myra Lysander's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shane Webster Character Portrait: Milah Balasubramanian Character Portrait: Declan Quinn Character Portrait: Amber Orland Character Portrait: Trey Robertson Character Portrait: Dr. Belle Attie Character Portrait: Lukas Caedon Character Portrait: Myra Lysander Character Portrait: Christopher Luther

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#, as written by Chandz



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Time: Midday
Virus Status: 7 Weeks Active
Current Location: Driving down an empty highway
Personal Status: Healthy/Alone





With road stretched out for miles ahead of him, Declan could only hope for empty roads. He knew that the chances of having roads stretch out for miles without a Zygr'n in sight was something just short of a dream. The fact of the matter was that more often than not, one couldn't turn a corner without seeing at least a small group of them, let alone one of them. Declan had been driving on this stretch of road for a while now, encountering a group of the dead every couple of miles. Rather than driving by them, Declan finds it almost necessary to pull his Jeep over on the side of the road and grab the shotgun out of the back of his car. He'll brazenly walk over to the lot of them and take the shotgun to each of their heads. He makes sure to stand at a distance from them with a simple face mask over his nose and mouth. Dec has no idea how these stupid shits work. He knows as much as much as how to kill them - he learned that you have to get rid of the head otherwise you'll just be dead people food - and that if you get scratched or bit by one, you're essentially screwed.

With his Jeep filled with as many of the the materials he could find ranging from guns and ammo, and any nonperishable foods he could scavenge along the way at any of the houses he found his way into, Declan made his way to the city. Essentially he knew it was a bad idea but he was running out of materials that were really necessary, weapons and gasoline. He needed to get into an ammunition store to see if he could find anything that could help and he needed to find a gas station. Along with the material stuck in the back of his Jeep, was a radio that Declan used to try to radio to anyone who could hear. Declan kept it on often just in case but he usually only just heard static come from the device. Declan clicked it off - he was getting sick of listening to the white noise - not there was anything else to listen to, ever since the outbreak nearly everything electronic stopped working.

Declan rode to the entrance of the city, stopping as he reached the sign that read "Welcome to Chicago." Declan put the car in park and stepped out, walking around his car. He stopped to look at the sign for a quick second, ran his hand through his hair and sighed, blowing air out of his mouth loudly. "Here we go." He walked to the trunk of his car and pulled out an utility built, within the belt was a handgun, a walkie talkie, a few smoke bombs and his knife. He buckled it around his waist and got back into the driver seat of the jeep. He took the car out of park and accelerated towards the inside of the city.

Reaching the inside of the city, Declan parked his car within an alley. He turned the car off and put the keys in his utility belt. He started walking towards the inner parts of the city. He needed to get his materials as quickly as possible and then he needed to get the hell out of dodge. He walked down a street filled with dead bodies, some missing heads, all around the streets. Cars were stopped and open, debris from the looting all over the place. With each step Declan took was a crunching of glass under him, Dec walked carefully to not draw any unwanted attention to himself. Dec drew his glock from his belt and aimed it out in front of him. He needed to be ready for anything that came his way. The man peered out in front of him and noticed a police station ahead of him across the street. He quickly made his way towards the station, hoping that he'd be able to get the weapons he needed from there.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shane Webster Character Portrait: Milah Balasubramanian Character Portrait: Declan Quinn Character Portrait: Amber Orland Character Portrait: Trey Robertson Character Portrait: Dr. Belle Attie Character Portrait: Lukas Caedon Character Portrait: Myra Lysander Character Portrait: Christopher Luther

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Dr Belle Attie. She didn't really have a field of medicine she preferred. She was into it all. She just worked where needed. She since the disease had been working non stop on finding a cure. Some and most other doctors with their family trying to be home and spend time with their families.

Unlike everyone else she was alone most of her life anyone. Her mother dead. Her father living with another family so that didn't matter. Though she had bought food and journals to write down what happens each time. She found it was a lot of extra work but it was worth it so the future people might read it or need it.

Belle went down the stairs of the hospital and she went into the on-call room. She had been making that into a bedroom sorts and made a bunk bed with a rack of fresh clothing for her. Mainly her lab coat and scrubs. Since she practically lived in wearing those kind of clothes anyway.

She changed into her outfit and put her gun in the back of her pants.

She wanted to save lives. But she needed to save her own because maybe out in the world there were other doctors trying to save people from the virus too but she felt alone in the matter. She felt like she was the only one who cared about her job and about doing the right thing.

She walked down the halls to an office with a microscope and looked into it looking at the mechanism that she had collected of the virus. "This is going to be a long day!"