Elliot "Max" Beaumont

[Elliot Beaumont]

"It was a virus. An infection. You didn't need a doctor to tell you that. It was the blood. It was something in the blood. By the time they tried to evacuate the cities it was already too late. Army blockades were overrun. And that's when the exodus started. Before the TV and radio stopped broadcasting there were reports of infection in Paris and New York. We didn't hear anything more after that.’"
'28 Days Later'

Your Name: Just call me Eli.
How many years roleplaying?: Five plus years.

"Because I could not stop for Death --
He kindly stopped for me --"

Emily Dickinson[/center][/size]

Character Name: Elliot Maxwell "Max" Beaumont
PB: Chris Pine
Age: 29
Date of Birth: October 29
Residence: Rochester, New York
Profession: U.S. Marines Soldier

Appearance: Elliot or mostly known by his middle name, Max, stands at fix foot exact. He has light brown to dirty blonde hair that is cut short and gel back. He has piercing and very define baby blue eyes, which is one of the most features of his face that stands out.
Elliot is of athletic build, considering he likes to workout every day if possible. out of uniform, Elliot wears from simple t-shirt to jeans, or even the casual white collar, buttoned shirt, to even demin jeans. He has a fair skin complexion, which is soft as a baby's face.

Personality: Ever the easy going optimist, when someone see's a glass completely empty Elliot will be the first to say it's at least half full. The end of the world hasn't dulled his sense of kindness and he's more than willing to shoulder more than his share of the weight in any given situation. Hard-working, intelligent and driven with an unbreakable sense or morals, Elliot has earned the respect and admiration of many, though his naivete and unwillingness to see the worst in people may cost him dearly in the future. And through his desire to help, Elliot has a habit of mothering those around him.

History: Before the plague, Elliot was growing up fast in his hometown of Rochester, New York. At the age of eight he was already used to waking up at sunrise to help his family with the daily chores and errands around the family household. This rigorous routine instilled in the young Elliot the hard work ethic expected of him by his relatives and tight knit community.

When college came around, Elliot earned a scholarship to one of New York's top schools. As for what he wanted to be, he tok a degree in Criminal Justice with a minor in Business Management. He graduated just four years after he entered college, being one of the top students of his class years.

When the plague hit, Elliot watched as his friends and loved ones were devoured or slaughtered by monsters and military incompetence. He managed to survive by living in the storm shelter for the first few weeks, though the exact details of his ordeal are, to this day, something he will not talk about. When the initial panic died down and with a dwindling food stock, Elliot left the safety of his hideaway to find other supplies and possibly other survivors. After finding the nearby city still burning, either accidental or a last ditch military effort, Elliot broke down and wept for his loss and the loss of humanity. After days of mourning and wandering in the ruins alone, Elliot shed his last tear as he thought of his brother, half a country away and vowed to find him.

Elliot set out, determined to find the only family he had left. But after spending three months of running, hiding and scavenging he was close to collapse. Suffering from rickets, exhaustion and exposure, Elliot was close to collapse and finally did so as he was travelling through the now abandoned Baltimore, Maryland. Through luck, or perhaps, karma, Elliot was rescued by a caravan of survivors. He was taken in and cared for selflessly, as if he were one of their own. Elliot hadn't asked for their help and, if he'd had his way, he would have refused it, instead stubbornly continuing his search for his brother. He spent the remainder of the trip in delirium and against his will he was taken back to New York.

When his health had returned and Elliot was medically cleared to work within the city, he adapted quickly. He threw himself into helping in any way he could. Using his previously acquired knowledge to help and voluntarily enlisting himself in the U.S. Marines. He maintains a friendly relationship with most everyone he encounters, due to his natural kindness and personality. Though he has accepted his role in this new society, he has never given up hope, nor the will, to find and reunite with his brother someday.

Likes:
- Women.
- Oriental foods.
- Martial Arts (fluent in practicing Taw Kown Do).
- Classic Rock to Heavy metal music.

Dislikes:
- The infected.
- Killing close friends or once survivors.
- Liars.
- Cigerattes.
- Bad hygiene.

Strengths:
- Works well with groups.
- Good survival skills.
- Close Quarter Combat.
- Exenstive knowledge on weapons.
- Extremely loyal to those he can trust.

Weaknesses:
- Forcefully have to kill those he knows or are close too.
- Can be short tempered if provoked.
- Has a habit of speaking what's on his mind.
- Can get impatient.

Parents: Annette (mother) and Ryan (father)
Siblings: Hayden (brother)
Spouse: N/A
Children: N/A

Anything Else? "I hope I don't taste like chicken."

Roleplay Sample: A Sig P226 was his only weapon at the moment. Currently, he was managing to keep a block off where he took place: at a bar. The last person who was in here fled because he heard some moans and groans coming from the restroom. Elliot, on the other hand, took care of that problem. How? A nice, hot lead bullet between the eyes shut the groaning infected quite well.

Chairs, stools, tables, and even pool tables blocked virtually all of the windows and doors. Luckily he did not have to push the pool tables since they were already blocking tall windows when he got in here. But to make things secure, he went ahead and used any furniture in the bar to use to block the infected from entering. He sat on the surface of the bar counter, seeing lines of alcohol to use for some Molotov. It’s certainly good to set the infected on fire!

He’d set his handgun in its holster that was wrapped around his right thigh and used his hands to turn himself around behind the counter. He hopped off, gathering up the alcohol beverages and a few towel/cloth to get it prepared. Of course, the entire time of getting them ready, Elliot was cautious enough to hear the infected either walk by or attempt to bust the door and/or windows down. Unfortunately, they were stuck to do that for a while.

Moments felt like days, as he finally got a few of them ready to use. Now, all he really needs is a way to ignite the Molotov’s. He went to the back where most of storage and inventory are. He found the owner of the bar,. His body was mutilated by something that was not by the common infected. No, something else was around and Elliot was not about to stick around to find out. At any rate, he quickly searched for one key item: a lighter.

However, by the time he did find a small box full of lighters, he heard something at the door. It was not the typical banging of the undead. It was something far more obvious in terms of sound. He grabbed the small box of lighters and headed back to the bar counter. He took at least one lighter and three Molotov’s. Then, he saw the door literally fall down. Blue pools of eyes would look as the woods of the chairs crippled under the heavy door. It was a group of them?

By reaction, Elliot quickly fled back into the storage room, where it seemed like none of the windows or the single door had been blocked off. He used his right elbow to push the door handle down and then he made sure that his body was still in the doors path. He turned, allowing the lighter to expose a single flame. “Let’s see how well you handle with fire . . .” He said to himself, igniting the first Molotov. Quickly he tossed it, right when the group had entered the storage room.

The infected (about two out of three) were set on fire, but Elliot made sure he was at a good distance between himself and the now engulfed infected. He could hear them screech, as if it was in pain or dying. Perhaps both? Nonetheless, it seem to be effective enough to stop them. When he saw the fire somewhat die down, he could see the burn flesh of the infected and its body virtually lifeless. This was his cue to get the hell out of there and that’s what he did.

Now, he has two Molotov’s left, a lighter, and his Sig P226. It was his turn to find some survivors.

[`ADMIN ACCOUNT]

Accepted.

I grew up near Rochester.