JACKDAW "JEB" WILKINS - coyote

Character's Name: Jackdaw Wilkins
Nicknames/Aliases - Jeb, Jack, Jackie, Dawson, Wilks, Jackins, Dawkins
Preferred Name: Jeb. He prefers Jeb, although he doesn't mind being called Jackdaw or Wilkins. Whatever tickles your fancy.
Age: 23 years, 2 months
Gender: Male
Species: Coyote
Form: Anthro
Role in the Group: currently an outsider
Height: 6'1''
Physical Description:
He has a coat that's several shades of tan, brown, and orange, and gray. There are no notable markings along his body, spare for his black tail tip, and the orange of his face and muzzle are brighter. His fur is of a medium length. It is longer along his mane, lower abdomen and hind quarters, and shorter along his face and limbs.
Each of his hands have five digits




Weakness:
- nearsighted (anything/anyone too far off becomes blurry)
- may be too trusting
- strength (his species is generally less robust than others he may encounter)
- too careless and/or playful during dangerous situations

Strengths:
- nimble
- decent stamina
- level headed
- optimistic
- versatile

Test Test TEST

Loyal ● Amiable ● Optimistic ● Winsome ● Prudent ● Desensitized ● Social ● Capricious ● Good-natured ● Slightly haughty ● Charismatic ● Talkative ● Jesting ● Protective

While on his own, he chose to travel from early morning to early evening. Years of traveling and countless encounters with zombies have desensitized Jackdaw to the walking corpses. Nonetheless, he prefers to keep his distance and save himself from the sight of more carnage, if possible. Slaying zombies is a swift but dirty job. Coming in contact with them in any way forces him to clean his blade, jacket, and self thoroughly, which consumes valuable time. He is a prudent fellow when it comes to contamination.

It’s a lonely world, and he lives a quiet life. The silence has affected his personality. Jeb always had a joke to crack. Now, he laughs at his own jokes in the recesses of his mind. There is no one to speak to, so he will have periods where he thinks aloud or runs through entire scenarios or conversations with himself. Other times, he has long lapses of silence in which he is fully enveloped in his thoughts. Such a solitary life has made him rather desperate for company and, in the past, he was much too trusting of other individuals. Passers-by will often do anything to ensure their own survival, even if that means looting or killing others. He learned that the hard way a few times. Despite past experiences, he still enjoys company and acts amiable toward everyone he encounters. At first glance, he may seem reserved and unapproachable. This is purposeful; Jeb is careful to study other survivors before approaching them. However, upon making others’ acquaintances, he’s very amiable and lively. While he has a rather flamboyant personality, a “country boy’s manners” are instilled within him. Eager to communicate and learn about others, his presence may seem slightly overwhelming to those of more reserved natures. He may delve into a random subject at one moment and then share a story the next. Pleasing and amusing others brings him enjoyment, so he puts much of his energy into doing so. While alone or with only one person, however, he's much more behaved.

While traveling alone for nearly a year, he often fought to exist. It grew difficult for him to find purpose in his ceaseless ambling. He didn't want to forget himself in the cumbersome silence, so he tried to fill it with noise, such as whistling or, as mentioned before, talking aloud.

He likes to fancy himself as musically inclined, but he is a mediocre musician. He's also a less-than-mediocre harmonica player, which is an unfortunate truth for those whom he insists playing for. Other than “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” he plays extemporaneously. Fortunately, he doesn't insist on playing it too often. He is a decent decent singer, but he rarely sings. Whistling is his most common habit and recreational expertise. He will often meander through the territories whistling a tune.

He does not own a gun, but he has slightly modified the back of the gun strap to accommodate his sword. It allows the weapon to rest across his back. His belt is black, and on it he carries a red cord and small pouch, inside of which is a dingy, silver harmonica and lighter. The latter item is out of fuel, but Jeb still keeps it. Before the apocalypse occurred, he was a smoker, which is a very bad, baaaad decision on his part, kiddies. His teeth are a little yellowed because of it. Nowadays, he'll often pretend to light a cigarette and enjoy it for a while. "What I wouldn't give for one right now," he thinks to himself. However, it's mostly for his own amusement. Reminiscences and these trivial imaginings are often all he has to occupy himself.


The red cord on his belt was a gift given to him by a nomadic family while traveling through an abandoned, ramshackle town. They had a son and a younger daughter. The little girl gave it to him and said that it was a good luck charm of sorts that was said to ward off evil. Jeb was thankful and took it, but of course he didn't believe that it would ward off anything. Since he's still alive, however, it must be good for something. That's his thought process, at least. The cord is now worn, and its ends are frayed and tattered.

He also has aviator glasses, which is essentially a piece of equipment that magnifies his swag while simultaneously protecting his eyes from UV radiation.

There's nothing much to say about Jackdaw's history. He was born in a small town and grew up there for the first few years of his life. His family moved to the city, but after several years, they began to have financial problems. As a result, Jeb started work at a young age. His father took he and his brother to work with him five, sometimes six, days a week. They woke up early and traveled to the outskirts of town where a small ranch was located. They were ranch-hands there, but since he and his brother were only kids, they weren't required to do any grueling work. When Jeb turned 18, he moved back to his town of birth, where he took a job at another ranch. However, he did myriad little jobs around town, so the townsfolk took quite a liking to him. In the evenings, he'd mingle with the crowds in saloons along the main streets and sometimes have a go at a poker game or two. Often, he would watch and play the violin instead. He was a member of an evening band at one of the nicer bars, but he played it all the time, softly, to himself.

This was his ordinary life until the apocalypse occurred. He never knew what became of his parents or brother. However, after a few months, a part of him began hoping that they succumbed to a swift demise. Jeb doesn't like imagining them living in the world as it is now.

Nothing at the moment.