Can I join as a bartender?
Name: William Taylor
Equipment: brown long sleeve shirt, green cargo pants, baseball bat, .357 magnum
Bio:William Taylor went into the army when he got out of high school, served his three years, moved back to his home town and, with the money he got from the army, bought a small local bar and learned to play the harmonica. His life was uneventful and easy going. He had a small group of friends who went to his bar every night. He drank no more than the average bar owner and lit up once or twice a week after hours. All and all it was a pretty much perfect for him.
Until the night of the apocalypse. At first it had looked like a bar fight had broken out with some weirdos in the back. He had grabbed the baseball bat from under the counter, that he kept there for just that occasion. Once he got close enough he took a swing at the guy who was clearly mauling the other guy. The bat hit him on the arm and the screams rang out into the streets as the attackers arm tore straight from his body, like his skin was being held together by bubble gum. The guy turned on Will and attacked him, Will swung, the attackers head was torn from his body, and then the body went down. Will threw the two bodies out onto the street and locked down his bar. He called the police, no police answered. Will kept calling again and again, all night long.
When the sun came up Will climbed to the second floor of his bar and looked out the window and say the streets littered with the walking dead. What he had to do was clear, he had no other choice. He went to his closet where he had a gun of his father's, a magnum, sorta looked like Dirty Harry's gun. He loaded it and filled his pockets with bullets, and carried the blood soaked bat over his shoulder. It was time to go find other survivors.