Tabor McLean- Madadh

For Madadh to post character informations!

Tabor Mclean

Age: 27
Appearance: Red-brown hair, trimmed goatee, heavy build
Occupation: Wildlife Rescue
Possessions on Person: Springfield 1911A .45, 15 rounds of .45 ACP (7 in clip + 1 chamber, 7 in additional clip), leather holster (small of back), Taurus Ultra-lite .38 revolver, nylon hoslter (ankle), 5 rounds .38 +P, multi-tool, wallet ($70, 1 CC, licenses), single edged non-folding knife on belt, small LED flashlight
Possessions in Truck (1994 F350 Crew Cab): Jumper cables, steel chain (30 ft), nylon rope (40 ft), oil (2 quarts), antifreeze (1 gal), first aid kid, survival knife, disposable ponchos (2), box of fruitroll ups, heavy duty flashlight, 'pump' friction flashlight, lighter, small tool box (half dozen wrenches, clippers, screw driver, few nuts and bolts), tire iron, change of clothes (tshirt, jeans, socks, overshirt), one CO2 air rifle with 5 tranq darts (dog sized) & 5 tranq darts (small animal sized), half dozen cans of catfood (wet), 2 one gallon jugs of water

Biographical Info:
Born and raised in the Sunshine state, Tabor dropped out of zoology courses early in his college career to work for a local wildlife refuge. Learning to deal with a wide variety of animals very stupid people smuggled into the state and released into its hospitable enviroment it was only a few years later that he and a few other of the local crew put together a small company specializing in exotics.

It wasn't making anyone rich, but it wasn't a bad living either. Most of their work came from local Fish and Wildlife and animal control agencies when something particularly large or odd found its way where it shouldn't be. Big snakes were big business.

Single, Tabor's social life generally consists of hitting Ybor occasionally with a few friends and coworkers or indulging in the more nerdly pursuits of internet gaming. His lifestyle keeps him fairly active, however, and growing up camping and the occasional hunting outing have kept him at least a little better than the average suburban dweller when it comes to outdoorsmanship. He also holds a cerification as a firearms instructor with the NRA, using the occasional safety class or permit class to suppliment his income.

He has some family around the state but can trend towards being a loner. Generally able to keep a fairly level head, working a job where things regularly try to bites parts off isn't bad for learning crisis control.

"This is seriously not the kind of shit that's supposed to happen in real life," Tabor muttered to himself, crouching low behind the end of a parked minivan and scanning the street. It seemed that the original chaos had subsided somewhat, he was running into less large groups of the... things that had become the primary residents of the Tampa Bay area.

He'd been on a late night call in Brandon when he realized something was up, and that the chaos he'd seen in the neighborhood was something more than just people freaking out over a big snake getting loose. Cops were all over the place, radio was a mess. If only he'd been a little more paranoid. Now here he was, leaning against the van and taking a moment to rub his eyes, tired but doing his best to stay alert.

The gun in his hand was warm to the touch, he hadn't put it down for hours. His only other acquisition on this little journey had been a foray into a hardware store for the titanium crowbar he gripped in his left hand, it was a damn handy tool that he'd always wanted and at this point it seemed shoplifting wasn't going to be an issue. The work truck was smacked into the side of a U-haul a few miles back, all things considered he'd done well to get as far as he had before running into something. He was on foot now, trying to make his way back home. And not get eaten.

Weirdest mission statement of the decade, he thought. Everyone had seen the occasional horror movie. Hell he had that damn book by Max Brooks at home. He hadn't exactly ever considered it 'reference material', however. He shook his head as he stood and kept moving.

Tabor was jogging past the high school when he noticed a low, stalking thing push its way past one of the school's ajar doors. If he was smart he'd just keep going. Who knows if anyone was in there. Yea, schools were used as emergency shelters so people had a tendency to run there. But he risked getting himself killed. Not smart.

"Not smart at all," he sighed, moving into the school.

I told Tingers she would luv you. I bet that little write made her toes curl...

Indeed. You're clear to join group 1 as we discussed. Feel free! <3