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Server time (UTC): 2022-12-06 03:54

Peter Wick
Character information
  1. Alias
    Wicky
  2. Mental
    Jaded, stern.
  3. Morale
    See (mentality)
  4. Date of birth
    1986-12-25 (35 years old)
  5. Place of birth
    London, Uk
  6. Nationality
    British
  7. Ethnicity
    White
  8. Languages
    English
  9. Relationship
    N/A
  10. Family
    N/A
  11. Religion
    N/A

Description

  1. Height
    185 cm
  2. Weight
    88 kg
  3. Build
    Prison Stacked
  4. Hair
    Skinhead
  5. Eyes
    Jaded
  6. Alignment
    Chaotic Neutral
  7. Features
    Stacked like a brick s**t house after many years in jail with a menacingly short a haircut to match.
  8. Occupation
    N/A
  9. Affiliation
    N/A
  10. Role
    N/A

Background

It was the summer of 1979. Peter Wick and his fiance were walking home from their weekly dinner date. It was a full moon, so they only had the street lights to guide them. Carefree, they walked hand in hand as they had a hundred times before. They didn't even hear it coming before it mounted the curb...

Dazed and confused, Peter dragged himself to his feet. Turning around, he searched for his fiance. Left, right, left again...then down... wedged between the front bumper of a 1971 Ford Capri and the front wall of a shop that sells artisanal coats for small dogs, an irrelevant yet detailed memory Preter can recall from the event...

The next thing Peter remembers is the four polices officer required to pull him off of the driver wrestling him to the ground to place him under arrest. Looking over, the driver had clearly been pulled from the wreck, a bloody mess where his face used to be... Peter knew in an instant that the sharp pains across his knuckles and the lifeless bludgeoned face of the driver were directly related. He began to cry out for his fiance but was immediately knocked out cold by other arresting officers. The drunk driver was an off-duty police officer...

Peter never saw freedom after that night, that is until during his transfer from a new overseas prisoner exchange program, some bulls**t excuse to send him away to a colder, more depressing with zero chance of ever getting a visit. Peter's transport left the road in an unexpected turn of events. He was marched out of the van, but not into his new prison yard as he expected but instead in the middle of nowhere, far away from anywhere or anyone. He didn't understand the language the guards spoke, but the words, 'cop killer,' were unmistakable. Preparing himself to go down swinging, Peter started down the guards... that's when he saw them...

Out of the darkness of the woods, three of the undead, one for each guard... if he shuffled around, seemingly preparing for combat in such a way that he could place the guards directly between him and...

[Bam]

Just as he planned, each guard was taken to the ground by one of the undead. This was his chance, as long as he could escape far enough before they finished chowing down, he was a free man... now if he could only get these handcuffs off...

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