Abram Osborn

Discussion in 'Character Biographies' started by Anonymous, Apr 8, 2019.

  1. Information

    View the lore information BEFORE posting an application.

    Event Notices

    >Click here to view<

    Character Creation Information

    >Click here to view<

    Lore Information

    >Click here to view<

  2. Factions News

    Click the link to view information regarding playable IC Factions

    >> Click HERE for Lore Information <<

    Dismiss Notice
  1. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    Abram Osborn
    Basic Information
    Name:Abram Osborn
    D.O.B: March 7, 1968
    Height: 5'10"
    Weight: 177 lbs.
    Episode Information
    First Seen:1-1
    Last Seen:1-1
    Pre-Apoc Occupations
    Botonist:Lab Worker
    Botonist:Vegetable Stand Owner
    USPS:Rural Carrier Associate
    Lutheran Church:Bookkeeper
    Post-Apoc Occupations
    Survivor: Bookkeeper
    Botonist: Farmer
    Botonist: Herbalist

    Abram stands at 5'10" and weighs 176 lbs. His hair is ashy for his age, fading into a thick beard. The man has well-defined cheekbones and a slim, slightly athletic build. He often wears a dark jacket, blue jeans, and worker's boots.

    Not much is known about Abram Osborn's personality. Often on the cusp of social interactions,
    it isn't rare to see him strike up a conversation with those who are out of sorts--often offering
    spare supplies or help around the quarantine zone

    #1 Anonymous, Apr 8, 2019
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 16, 2019 at 11:14 PM
    piggs, Tucker and Rally like this.
  2. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    Abram Osborn’s distant Norwegian relatives arrived in South Africa in the 1700s and 1800s as fishermen and whalers. The man's great grandfather moved to Scotland in the early 1920s, met his wife, hopped the pond, and had Gabe Amber in 1932--who then married Nell Osborn in 1964.

    Much of Abram's childhood was spent in the normal manner: school, socializing with friends, playing by the river, and going to the park were regular occurrences. A man lucky enough to be blessed with a healthy childhood, Abram is a brother to four siblings. Between the gaggle of them, there was always something to do.

    Young Adulthood:
    Abram started out as Rural Carrier Associate in 1984, part-time, and soon became a USPS processor at the age of 18. After two years with RCA, he stepped up to Mail Carrier, delivering packages to his community. The pay was decent, at almost $20 an hour--full federal health benefits with full-time and such.

    Abram turned it down to pursue a life as a botanist. He'd put himself through community college with a degrees in both plant biology and general biology, taking care of pocket expenses with the crossover credits and the RCA job.

    It was in these years he took side hobbies related to studying books, comparative mythology, and religion. While his career was with the drives and plants, his heart soared in the realms of the imagination, stories, and self-discovery.

    At age 26, he stepped into his Master's degree program for plant science, too. While much of his research kept him quite happy, he was working double shifts between his university's paid TA job and package delivery.

    It wouldn't be long before Abram would drop his Master's program in medias res, flying solo for the rest of his education. He was soon out in the field and working in a local laboratory. From Monday through Friday, he continued work with USPS--creating a nice schedule for himself.

    By 30, he married Irene Sekker and had two children. He raised them with care, alongside Irene, and watched them grow from childhood into adulthood. Throughout Abram's 30s, he lived a peaceful life running packages and studying plants. At age 38, he left any semblance of formal education once more; he left the lab and opened a vegetable stand.

    Middle-Age Years:
    It wouldn't be long before Abram left the Postal Service, either. Before long, most of his time was dedicated to raising crops as a part-time farmer--growing a variety of fruits and veggies. He began things the old-fashioned way, with hard work and creativity.

    What began as a roadside, swap-shop project destined to fail under the pressure of big-name produce providers soon found its grounding. Irene and he soon balanced the harvest with the business side of things, scaling a small business into a free-form produce shop. The two would spend a majority of the decade there, raising and selling healthy produce at bargain prices.

    Several times, local grocers offered to buy out the business--to which Abram humbly refused. The man isn't against big business, but he prefers equal opportunity for the less fortunate--as well as those who need to save the spare change, so to speak.

    It was around this time Abram started attending the Lutheran church alongside his wife, to get back in touch with his spiritual side. His background in mythology research remained throughout his college years and adulthood, too—and before long the man was teaching scripture at the church as Father Abram Osborn. Eventually, work was a little too demanding for him to continue. Plus, his own background in comparative mythology made it a little difficult to connect with the age-old diehard patrons of the church.

    Regardless, he still returned to teach youth groups and at high school religious retreats when possible. the couple's shop remained fully stocked, visited, and successful into the present time, too.

    Throughout his late 40s, nothing much had changed. Abram is a family man, through and through. He kept in touch with his kids, worked the shop with his wife, and was simply happy for the breath in his lungs and the clothes on his back.

    He'd soon find himself as the sole surviving member of the Kirby Street Neighborhood Homes quarantine of West Point, KY (a rather small holdout, during initial U.S. Armed Forces effects) alongside his wife. Abram soon headed east—towards the river in hopes of city-wide evacuation.

    The world was crumbling. Amidst the crowd of similar surviving denizens, he was separated from his wife in the fray. His two children were reportedly safe in their respective adulthood homes of Louisville, KY, and Orlando, FL, yet he yearned to reconnect with them at the soonest opportunity.

    When the Valley Bridges were blown, any immediate hope of locating his wife faltered; his best bets stemmed from Knox County--whispers of a larger quarantine, deep within the Valley.

    He traveled alone, more often than not, spare a survival pack and a large walking stick at his side. The man was lucky enough to not meet any adversaries or looters along the way down the highway—as he mostly relies on ole’, good-natured Kentucky hospitality to those he meets.

    Into the Fold
    It wouldn't be long before a wayward looting venture at a grocery store would yield tragedy for many of his current companions, as well as the introduction to the new: Red, Scott, Monk, Carlo, and Tee would soon become his newest travel companions--each with trials, tales, victories, and losses of their own.

    The crew pressed onward, eastward, for hope of an established quarantine--or some semblance of hope--in the wayward wastelands of a falling Kentucky. It wouldn't be long before the group made it to the Valley Station Mall.
    #2 Anonymous, Apr 10, 2019
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 14, 2019 at 9:14 AM
    Rally and piggs like this.
  3. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest


    (OOC Note: All content within this bio is fictional; none of it reflects the RPers OOC thoughts or opinions. Often, journal entries will feature altered names and perspectives to maintain the integrity and OOC info about other characters--so as to prevent metagaming. Cheers.)

    February 14, 2015: Campfire One
    I sit aside a low-glow campfire betwixt forgotten elements of soon-to-be old: A backpack with no label, navy blue; Timberland hiking boots, a Christmas present from Irene; and a collection of eggs, herbs, and a carton of milk--the only mainstay of a broken journey to salvage what one might salvage from the Knob Creek market which is now bloodied like our clothes and the bodies we've scrambled from.

    I feel it is time to create a collection of writings from the past and present. Forgive me, to those who stumble upon this mess of scrap and musings--it is not orderly. By all marks, I haven't the faintest of what our futures hold. We make for the police checkpoint, nearest the crossroads between Hayford Drive and Retail Row. In high hopes, those we meet will be friendly.

    I suspect we'll soon lose connectivity to the digital world as our batteries drain; as our watch batteries falter, and as wall clock hands stagnate, it will be all one can manage to tell the time--or the date. For this reason, such writings will be listed in order according to the campfires which host them. This current campfire exists off the side of a dug and bailed canal nearest Third Avenue on the cusp of The Highway Debris.

    Forward: I have scrapped together the remains of a torn notebook of poetry Irene once gave me, too. At times, these entries may hold her poetry. It is said, in tales such as The Iliad and The Oddyssey, that one who prays to God & the muses of faith is one such soul redeemed and protected in life and death. I pray for my wife, and her safety. I pray for my two children, Russel and Anne. For myself: I pray only for a restored faith in that which I have lost: May it be enough to guide myself, my friends, and my family abroad into a semblance of hope in these dark times.

    February 15, 2015: Campfire One
    It is nearly morning, but the campfire grounds are unsettled from the day just before. Scott is fearful, witnessing the horrid atrocities we've witnessed. I am fearful; I am fearful for these same reasons. Monk weaves a basket from pine needles stowed in a grocery bag, deep in thought. Carlo questions why we linger upon the cusp of woodland gunfire reports--which strike the sky, to the East. Or is it North?

    I cannot help but question this myself, despite an attempt to appear as a man with some sense of direction. As I see, currently, yet another joins our fold as we press onward. Yet we are all lost: Those of the rambling brook, clambering in resigned silence and with a protest against fate itself. Suffice it to say, words escape our band when asked where we've arrived from.

    No, an older man might say to the wandering passerby betwixt the thickets and dug and bailed canal. Yet hope soon drives me. Hope for a reprieve off the road. Perhaps the police checkpoint will yet provide sanctuary for the lost, weary, and hungry--if only our troupe can yield to the gamble of roadmen in black and blue. Still, hope has gotten me this far, lest it not disprove itself in these wandering times.

    Februay 16, 2015: The Mall
    #3 Anonymous, Apr 10, 2019
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 14, 2019 at 12:39 PM
    Rally likes this.
  4. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    People and Notes

    ∎ Family
    ∎ Like Family
    ∎ Friend
    ∎ Good Fella
    ∎ Decent Enough
    ∎ Bit of a Bastard
    ∎ Can't Stand Ya
    ∎ Hate Ya
    ∢ Places and Notes
    (Names are in alphabetical order after color)

    Anne Osborn
    My daughter. Miss her dearly. I pray she's safe, over in Orlando. It's the most I can do, stuck here in Kentucky.

    Irene Osborn
    My wife. Miss her dearly. I'll find you, come hell or highwater. I know you're out there, somewhere.

    Russel Osborn

    My son. Miss him dearly. I just hope he got out of Louisville before it imploded.

    Arthur Hillock

    A good man who's seen a variety of atrocities. Seems sharp as hell, though, and man puts a lot on the line for the safety of others. I haven't seen him in a bit, but I pray he's alright.

    Lincoln Whittaker

    One I met on the road. Real good ole' fella, the kind who acts before talking. Hell, I trust him more than most out there. We're getting along, alright, and the fella feels like a brother at times. We've made our mistakes: Twice, now. It's all we can do but try to amend the past where possible--and to keep pushing on to help and make up for it.

    Theo Garcia

    A keen observer, and has his whereabouts about him. Flighty, but real smart. Reminds me of my son, frankly. Hell, I trust him more than most out there. I'll make sure he's safe, and I'd take a bullet for the kid. We've gone a long way, in just a few days. And I'm hoping we find a brighter future around the corner.

    Wesley Glover

    One I met on the road. He's a kind fella, and I can tell he's one of those thoughtful, misunderstood types at first glance. Got a good head on his shoulders, and I'll do my best to make sure he's alright. He's a youngster, but he's sharper than most folk out there. Speaks with his heart, which is one hell of a respectable trait to have.

    Clarence Emerson
    Kind enough of a fella, seems like he carries a lot on his shoulders. It's nice knowin' I'm not the only old fella, in this place, neither. Wherever he is, I hope he's alright.

    Chelsea Barnes
    Christ, she's just a kid. Hope she fares well, in these times.

    Cody Shepherd
    God damn if I'm not blessed to meet such a diligent fella. Shepherd--he seems rough around the edges. But his hospitality and quick wit, alone, speak leagues about the guy. I'll try to make his life a little easier, if'n I can. Lord knows he's seen his fair share of craziness 'round about the military lifestyle.

    Don Jones
    Seems like a sharp-witted fella. I respect the man's tenacity. I feel right horrible about what happened at the mall, and if the chance arises I'd like to make up for it. Christ knows the man's a diligent worker, and I only hope he fares well wherever he goes--as there's knuckleheads all about.

    Isaac Castillo
    He seems like a good enough fella, and seems like a capable planner. Seems like he keeps good company with him, too. Haven't talked much, but I wish him well in whatever situation he's saving the day in.

    Ivy Lance
    Kind girl, and seems like she's got real wisdom between the ears. Don't know much about her past, but it seems like she's led a somewhat difficult childhood. I'll do my best to try and make sure she's safe, if possible.

    John Mcmalian
    God damn if he don't drive me up the wall, sometimes. But he’s got moments of decency which make it tough to flat-out hate the guy. Frankly, man comes off unhinged and reckless--which is part of the reason me and my fellas kicked off so quick. Seems haunted by his past, though, and I respect a man who carries so much on his shoulders; I don't know, though. Loose screws come unhinged, sometimes, but god damn man.

    Logan Spencer
    Seems like a good enough fella, along with her husband. She seems quick-witted, which is a good trait to see in the fray. Frankly, though, don't know much about her.

    Miles Krueger
    One of The Mall's leadership types. Jokes and disagreements aside, he don't seem half bad. What happened, back there, when we left: My best bets is he'll feel rough about it. But he's a tenacious planner who I feel perceives more than what's on the surface. If the day comes, I hope we can patch stuff up. Lord knows I've made a mistake, but I wouldn't be the first knucklehead to goof up.

    Octavia Benette
    She seems like a nice enough woman; knows her way around medicals, which is refreshing. Can't thank her enough for her hospitality and kindness. Hopefully I can help out and locate some supplies to make things a little easier.

    Omar Foch
    Seems like a nice enough guy, and has a good head on his shoulders. Rare, these days. Wherever the man is, I just hope he's far away from whatever the daily lunacy is.

    † ∎ Serena Evans
    Likely the only reason most of us still have heads on our shoulders. I. . .I can't even express how fucking sorry I am. I saw her turn, just like that. I. . .I can't speak of it.

    Thomas Parish
    A youngster who's terrified; he may have lost family near Louisville, too. I pray for him and his family. I can't imagine what seeing those horrid things must do to a young person, but I'll be damned if I can't at least help the kid stay safe when possible.

    Tom Spencer
    Seems like a good enough fella, along with his wife. Real practical-like, and seems like a natural-born leader. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if I've shopped for meats 'n milk at the man's business over in West Point.

    Tyler Aaron
    Bit flighty, but it might just be The Mall's stress gettin' to him. Guy's got his wits about him, and he seems like he doesn't take crap from no one--which is right respectable, too.

    ∎ Abigail Baker
    A young woman who seems like she’s lost her family; I'll try to keep an eye out for her grandparents.

    ∎ Lexi Cole
    A kind woman, one who seems to know her way about The Mall.

    ∎ Russel Cruz
    One I met on the road. He seems kind enough. Sharp-type; very keen.

    † ∎ Summer Dawson
    I. . .I saw her get ripped apart right in front of us. Christ.

    Campfire One
    Ruddy 'ole thing aside the Highway Debris. Glad to be away from it

    Seems secure. Many survivors. Many Red Eyes outside. Tents, food, security staff, safety--for now.

    Police Checkpoint
    Gone, sans the whispers of infected, scrap metal, blood, and ash.
    #4 Anonymous, Apr 10, 2019
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 18, 2019 at 6:53 AM
    MindGate, Rally and piggs like this.
  5. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    -bio, relationships, thangs, n' stuffs