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Server time (UTC): 2023-04-02 04:55

Robert Stoker
Character information
  1. Alias
  2. Date of birth
    1989-09-12 (33 years old)
  3. Place of birth
    Reading, England
  4. Nationality
  5. Ethnicity
  6. Languages


  1. Height
    181 cm
  2. Weight
    98 kg
  3. Build
  4. Hair
    light brown
  5. Eyes
  6. Alignment
    Chaotic Neutral
  7. Features
    relatively tall, his thin build gives Robert a somewhat gaunt look, not helped by his equally sunken eyes.


Robert was brought up in a loving, if broken home. Never knowing his father left a hole that his mother tried to fill, but found it increasingly difficult to control a rebellious child then teenager. While his school career was checkered with fights, challenges to authority and the like, Robert had dsicovered a lifelong passion. While in a biology class regarding various microbial diseases he was shown representations and breakdowns of such things as Anthrax and the plague. Robert became fascinated with such tiny things being wielded as a weapon of frightening power and swore to himself one day that power would be his to wield.

Unfortunately ambition collided with reality and enthusiasm for bioweaponry does not a talent for biology or chemistry make, with Robert unable to achieve the grades required to persue his dreams further. Rather than take such defeats lying down, he deceded to approach it from another angle; if he could not be the one to create those terrible beauties he would be one of the men holding them. His scores did allow him to persue a career in logistical management, with a view to entering the military. While he was successful in this, rather than the hoped-for secret bioweapon unit that Robert might have fantasized about, his skill set instead allowed him to join the MoD's procurement department. Within 5 years he had become one of the departments regional managers, where Robert began to push his ideas; at any chance given he would promote the idea of increasing the nation's supply of weaponised diseases, even at the expense of the nations nuclear stockpile. Over time this earned him the ire of both the services but also the political establishment and when Robert spoke publicly of his ideas to one of the Tabloid papers the excuse was taken to get rid of him. Not only was he publicly disgraced but to the public at large he sounded like a madman doting on the idea of buying and creating ever more dangerous weapons for seemingly no other reason than Robert's increasing glee at the prospect.

He was quietly cashiered from the service and ostrasized from his work and social circle. Labelled as an insane crank by most, Robert struggled to get back on his feet. He was fine financially but its difficult to integrate into a society that views you as a dangerous weirdo at best. Not having given up on his obsessions, Robert took a job running supply warehouses for a pharmacutical company with discreet links to the MoD. It paid less, but allowed Robert to remain close to his beauties.

When the Pandemic hit at first Robert reacted much the same as everyone else; with shock and fear, kept to his home and forced to remain there. Of course, given how isolated he already as, this was harder on Robert's mental state than most. He watched humanity's ineffectual attempts at stopping its spread, the virus always shifting just out of the reach of the world's medical establishments. More and more he came to idolise this disease above all. This one microbe could potentially end the species - of course, most could in theory but this one was actually giving the task a good go - to say nothing of its exquisite method for doing so. The infected were dangerous and disgusting, but what they represented for the virus was something more; a potentially exponential infection vector where victims would themselves become carriers as well as spreaders and in effect 'soldiers' for the virus. It was waging war on humanity using their own sick and dead, their numbers growing every day.. and it was glorious.

However much Robert might have enjoyed his delusions and fantasies about the virus' progression, he was stil aware of his surroundings enough to know that staying in London where he had been living since he began working for the MoD. Despite the orders to remain indoors, it wasn't too hard to make it to the coast in the atmosphere of near constant protest and clashes with authorities. He'd heard about a place up in northern Norway that was taking in refugees; if he could make it there, he'd be safe to persue whatever goal he desired with the virus, while the fools who'd mocked him died at the hands of their own kin or worse were themselves made into weapons by the disease. The harder part was finding a boat and captain who was willing to take him across the North sea. As it was he eventually found a fisherman willing to risk the lockdown and armed guards, in exchange for almost every penny that Robert owned. He cared little though, he would be safe and free to chase his dreams. The captain had only agreed to part of the way where he would drop Robert off further south on the coast of Norway, the longest journey he could do at night, without being discovered missing the next morning. Once there, Robert set off with little more than the clothes on his back, scrambling up a passage in one of the local fjords emerging at the top with fingers bloody from the effort.Taking in the beauty around him, he headed north along the coastline towards this.. Nyheim.


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