SAWYER, Logan J.

Name: Logan James Sawyer
Alias: 'J', 'Sawyer', 'Sasquatch'
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Asexual
Hometown: Monroe, Georgia
Group: Loner
Position: N/A
Face Claim: Garrett Hedlund

deeper in

Appearance

Ethnicity: Caucasian
Eye Colour: Blue
Hair Colour: Dark Brown
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 190 lbs
Preferred Weapons: A solid steel pipe, made from a dumbell's bar with the ends soldered into points.
Basic Appearance:
Logan is at first glance intimidating, large and muscled he wears an assortment of clothes that are dark and always torn and stained. They are his old work clothes and were well-worn before the infection set in. Now his jeans are ragged and his motorcycle jacket and t-shirt are stained red.
He is handsome, with a slight stubble he tries to come under control with his hunting knife. Since his hair was always on the longer side, it's now a bit wild and nearly always strewn about his head. The dark brown is sometimes mistaken for black depending on how dirty he is and emphasizes the color of his eyes. He's a white boy, but with the summer sun he's procured a few sunburns and now has a light tan. It just serves to make him look dirtier.
He has scars dotting his back from fights and the harsh life of being in a biker gang. His left eyebrow has a scar dashed through it and a few of his fingers are crooked. He has a particularly nasty scar on his stomach from a close call with a knife during a street fight.
He always carries a large black hiking backpack with all of his and his brother's supplies. He uses and old-fashioned hip holster to hold his four foot long weapon when it's not wrapped in his left hand.
He is always wearing his jean jacket with the skull and rose emblem ironed onto the back. There is a wolf on the lower part of the jacket snarling. The front pocket has his name and VP stuck on.

Personality and Past


Personality: Logan is an introvert. As such, he’s the type of guy content to be by himself in the woods staring up at the stormy gray sky, posted as sentry. He isn’t one for large groups and is always on the fringe. If he has to talk, he prefers one-on-one conversation with someone he’s met and listened to for quite some time. Trusting is a big issue for him and it’s very hard to earn his. He doesn’t see the point in giving it to strangers. There's too much of a chance that they'll be dead tomorrow. He's only lively and talkative around his brother. He isn't shy, like people think when they first meet him. He normally just doesn't see the use in conversation.

He is more of a listener, able to listen to others’ rants for hours on end without becoming bored. He prefers the more chatty people, seeing as he doesn’t have to do anything but nod and grunt. Occasionally, with the real chatty ones, he might drop a line or two. Sometimes, he’s found peace with a few quiet people, but that’s rarely. They have to have the right soul for him to be able to sit there with someone in comfortable silence.

He's always been a thinker, something Cole admires and makes fun of. He uses his words to his advantage most of the time, saying the minimum of what he needs to so that the situation goes like he wants. It makes him very careful in what he says or does, which often makes him appear aloof. Add that to his dark looks and rather impressive six foot five frame and he's the archetypal loner content to kill walkers than talk. Since he was in a biker gang for most of his life, this attitude is familiar and has only expanded since the world collapsed.

Logan is very intelligent, though a lot of people don't think he is. With his southern drawl and penchant not to participate, people tend to mistake him as a silent fool. But he likes things that keep him occupied. He enjoys hard work and feeling like he’s accomplished something. Fixing cars, hunting, those were picked up for that reason. He often finds himself thinking about a lot of things and it’s not uncommon for him to become lost in his thoughts. But he has a brilliant mind and is able to strategize quickly and prioritize well. He can keep a variety of thoughts running at once, a valuable asset when the world is pressing in down on your head.

Logan and his brother are a strange pair. They kill walkers for fun. At least, that's how it seems. The hunting is a bond he shares with his brother. When they’re fighting side-by-side, that’s when he feels most alive. After the infection set in and wiped out their family, the brothers have made a silent pact to make sure that they do what they can to help those they come across. He understands that in the grand scheme of things, he and his brother aren’t helping terribly much. He has a strange desire to constantly help, but the conflict of not knowing how to ask or receive his own.
Unlike what others may think, Logan is a very good and rather ruthless hunter. When he and his brother have locked onto a target, he won't let go. He's fearless in battle, more occupied with keeping his brother safe and the monster from hurting humans than himself. He's a powerhouse, his brother calls him 'Tank' and so Logan calls Cole 'Whip', which fits their styles just fine. However, his still wary nature creeps into this. He doesn't see what he does as glorious, just a necessity to survival.

But that physicality doesn't just disappear when there are no Walkers. He isn't afraid to fight and has a temper. It's not as volatile as his brother's rages, more icy and controlled though he gets angrier faster than Cole does. He's apt to swing without giving any warning when someone has irked him, especially since he keeps his moods so closely to the vest naturally. His control is like ice and as easily breakable and he often acts out badly when annoyed without expressing any of it vocally because he simply has learned any other way. With hot-headed Cole as a brother, Logan quickly learned to throw a good punch without hesitation when the situation threatened them. It's more of a reflex now and he often finds himself ready to attack when his brother has been simply slighted instead of threatened. It's not something he's proud of, but his life style hasn't exactly promoted controlling it.

He has never seen the same black and white as everyone else. Being in a gang that his brother started in junior high, he has never felt real fear for trouble. Stealing, drug-running, those never bothered him. They simply never felt wrong and now that there are no police, he feels a lot more relaxed. He has his own morality that doesn't fit with many others. He will do whatever is needed to keep himself and Cole alive and always has. It's a darker side to him, the fact that he isn't afraid who is at the other end of the gun as long as Cole is at his shoulder. He doesn't like to think about it very often, because the depths he'll go to keep his loved one safe terrifies him a bit, especially with this new world.

Anything asked about himself makes him nervous. He’ll go out of his way to avoid any conversation about how he’s doing or what’s happened in his life. He has no patience for sap stories and is often angered when people try to tell them to him.

He’s a private person and doesn’t mind being that way. No one has yet convinced him not to be, befriending a another survivor isn’t always the safest or sanest thing to do. And it doesn't happen top often for you if you're six-foot five, one hundred and ninety pounds and bludgeon walkers to death without fear. If he’s allowed someone close enough to be one, they’ve got a friend for life. Because he is so anti-social , friends are hard for him to find, but when he has, he’s very adept at keeping them.


Likes:

• Working on cars, Logan is an adept mechanic. He likes the complexity of a vehicle's engine, and the ease in which he deals with them. It appeals to his introverted side. He is often found working on some sort of mechanical apparatus. He knows everything there is about any motorcycle or vehicle and can drive anything with an engine.
  
  
• Wrestling. It first started as an elective that the school forced on him, wanting him to open up without his brother. He quickly blossomed, understanding the holds and mechanics well and enjoying the strategy. It is still one of his favorite past times and part of the reason he is such a great brawler.
  
  
• Playing his guitar, though he doesn't like playing for audiences. He has a good ear and often uses the music he writes as a calming exercise for when he's had a rough day. That makes his music personal. He's not a boy to share much of himself with you, so if he plays music or shows you his own songs, you're one of the very special. Sadly, he doesn't have this escape anymore but can often be found humming nonsensical tunes and creating one-liners.

Dislikes:

• Bullies, having dealt with it he can't stand seeing it. Bullying is the quickest way to get him to react. Even though he hates talking to strangers, he will leap to defend a kid getting bullied. It sets off the temper in him like nothing else. This stems into him being rather protective of people in his group and going out on a limb to help
  
  
• Complainers, he sees no point in it and finds it highly annoying. Being a person who shoulders and hides his pain, he can't stand listening to others whine about the world going to shit. Everyone knows that everyone's life sucks at the moment and he doesn't care to listen to it.At all.
  
  
• Obnoxiously loud people. Even though Logan's brother sometimes falls under this category, Logan can't stand people who talk loudly and annoyingly. Even though he can listen to blabbers for hours, it has to be meaningful and interesting. If it's asinine and pointless, he grows annoyed very quickly. His annoyance for this has been heightened now that noise draws danger.
  
  
• Authority. There has always been something in grown-ups and people that have positions above him that irks him. He doesn't like being looked down upon and people have been doing it since he can remember. Whether because he was the poor son of a drunkard that left their mother to work herself to death or because he and his brother broke car windows for fun, he despises anyone that tries to lord over him.
  

History:

The youngest of the Sawyer family was born in an early wintry December in rural Georgia. It wasn't the easiest life that he and his brother lived. Their parents were not physically abusive, but were so wrapped up in their Dad's drinking problem that they invariably ended up neglecting the boys even when they tried.

Logan knew no different. He thought all parents were distant and unaffectionate. He had all he needed in Cole. His older brother was his best friend. They ran the backwoods together, learning to hunt and fish for fun and for sport.

Their Dad's drinking never got better, meaning he stayed far away from home most nights and their Mom had to work hard at the hospital to keep the finances in order. She was caring and loving when she needed to be, but the boys had never really learned to ask for it.

Their Dad left when Logan was nine and Cole was eleven. He simply went for his normal beer run and never came back.

Their mother threw herself into her work. She took as many hours as possible and often elected to stay at the hospital when she didn't have to. It hurt the boys, they thought that both parents had abandoned them. Logan can't decide to this day which hurt worse, the absent father finally fading away or the devoting mother that slipped away.

It meant the boys were too often left to their own devices. In the rural south this meant more time to run wild. Neither boy straight-A students nor they straight-laced. They hung out with the wrong crowd because it was easier to be accepted by them. They quickly took control of the white trash kids. If Logan didn't mind hot-wiring a car for a joyride, the gang of boys liked and included him. If Cole wasn't afraid to break and enter, he quickly became the ringleader. They were a close group, always together causing problems and heading straight down the track to jail.

By the time the boys were teenagers, Cole was a wild redneck with a penchant for sharp-shooting. If it wasn't for his juvenile record being smeared, he would have received a scholarship to a college on it. He didn't care. With a solid D record in school, no university wanted him and he wanted nothing more than the thrill of the darker side of life.

Logan found that cars and wrestling soothed him. As well as music, though he prefers the kinestheticness of working out problems with machines. His record also prevented college, but since he didn't see the point in going it doesn't bother him. He knows he would have hated another year of school and dropped out when he was sixteen. He started vo-tech and quickly dropped out of it as well, since just like in high school he had a hard time with authority and no regard for rules. Turns out vo-tech hates it when you steal their tools for your own shop/

So they and the gang they started when they were twelve started their own 'business'. Cole was the front-runner, always the one doing everything with his little brother at his heels. Logan was most often the one with the idea in the first place. They boosted cars, rode motorcycles, sharked pool games, and dabbled in gun sales and drug-running. They earned their reputation the hard way in the small town they lived in. If you wanted something on the wrong side of the law, the Sawyer brothers and their friends is where you went.

This meant they were still living at home sixty-seven days ago. They were blissfully unaware, Cole tired from his nights as a bouncer at the bar and Logan from the pile-up of transmissions that surrounded him. Both were nervous over a deal going down later that week. But that was normal and both were itching for the money in their pocket.

Until their mother became one of the first to fall ill. They had heard of the illness before, on the radio and television, but it had all seemed so far away and not real.

When their mother died in their house and then came back, is the single most awful memory he holds. Twenty-four year old Cole walked in on Logan trying to get his Walker mother off of him.

Logan knows shooting your own mother in the back and then watching your little brother cave her head in when that didn't work isn't exactly going to go away for Cole.

But after that, the brothers became inseparable. They were always close before, Cole being Logan's parent and sibling wrapped into one. Logan isn't anywhere near as close to anyone like he is his brother. They have a relationship that borders on obsessive, with neither one feeling whole without their brother there. Their mother used to joke that they were twins.

So it hurts all the more that one month ago the unthinkable happened. With Cole's personality and sharp-shooting skills and Logan's tactical skills and willingness to do the dirty work meant they their gang was better prepared than most in their small town. The lit out into the woods with their stockpile and other supplies. They hunted and cared for and protected better than most, but the Sawyer brothers move like wolves. They were one, some sort of amoeba. Where one moved, the other followed. They finished sentences sometimes, though Cole was most often the mouth piece. Logan was a looming shadow and the brothers earned their nickname, 'WolfPack', Logan most often being called 'Lone Wolf' or 'Sasquatch'. It seemed that they might actually thrive in this new world that needed men with their knowledge.

Then a horde moved through, decimating their tiny Red Dawn-esque village. Logan has no idea if his brother is alive or not. He's been trying to stay around the same area, finding groups to see if his brother is there and if he isn't, he moves on. He isn't giving up finding his brother. He knows he'd know if he was dead.


Family

Father: Allen David, 45, UNKNOWN
Mother: Samantha Maria, 31, DECEASED
Siblings: Cole David, 24, UNKNOWN
Partner: N/A
Children: N/A
Others: N/A

about the creator

Name: Desired the full, but many shorten it to Des
Age: Twenty as of today
Password: "Fight the dead. Fear the living.".
Other Characters: N/A
RP Sample:

<sub>Dawn had just come over the horizon, sending bright rays filtering down through the treetops and shining bright upon the blacktop road. The asphalt was faring well for being utterly abandoned the past seventeen years. That mostly likely had to do with the fact that the highway hadn't felt car wheels flying over it in years. The Georgia sun had cracked it in a few places. That sun was still hot and evening in the morning fog it held a hint of the heat it was going to exude.

Two dark figures shattered the rays' on the highway, a dog and man. The dog was fierce-looking, ragged and it's coat black with an occasional highlight of brown as it trotted along the edge of the concrete, amber eyes staring harshly at the treeline. It was scarred, with one ear torn. He had no collar and a short tail characteristic of his breed, though his ears were floppy. It's head was hung low, eyes intense. Rangy and lithe, it looked more wolf-like than it had a right to.

The man wasn't much better. Standing six-foot four, he was intimidating. The weapon he had slung over his shoulder didn't help his image. Three feet of solid galvanized steel weighing around four pounds and three inches in diameter with a soldered end where the car axle had been and where it was now jagged and bloody was held loosely in his left hand, a few crooked fingers thrumming against the metal. His black backpack was rugged but clinking lightly as he moved. He moved in a slow ambling pace that didn't take too much effort and could be held up for hours. It was a skill perfected by years of walking.

Logan had no idea where he was. He knew he was in Georgia, at least. The heat and the pine trees were enough of a clue for that. He had been wandering around the same area for a year now, he had just never ventured this far south before. It seemed like it had been more suburban before, at least compared to the tiny abandoned town he had grown up in. He didn't like others, groups had never appealed to him even with his family beside him. However, his brother had always enjoyed causing trouble and the drama being in a group promoted. He only hoped Cole had got wind of the town and headed in. Cole had never been as good with directions as Logan. If someone had said south, he would have picked a random direction and never stop walking. Cole had always said he'd never have need for a compass, since Logan would always be around.

Until a year ago, he was.

Logan sighed, the noise oddly harsh and loud in the dawn. Birds didn't sing as much anymore. Though they were tweeting lightly, it was almost hesitantly. His sigh made some stop and coo nervously and the dog's ears twitch as the canine looked up at him. Logan dropped his hand down to the dog's knobby head in a silent condolence and whispered, "Easy, Admiral." The dog huffed and ambled on, shoulders rolling.

The pair walked on closer to town.

They had gone on silently for about five minutes when Admiral stiffened, hackles rising. Logan stopped, sliding his left hand forward and gripping his pipe tightly in it. He had expected this, looked forward to it. A town meant more people and more people meant more un-dead. Logan had his weapon out of his holster for just the occasion. Admiral was looking towards the treeline on his left and Logan started walking. He shifted his weight with each step so that not a noise was heard to announce his presence. It was yet another skill many shared with him. The ones who didn't were dead. The dog did the same, leading him towards the slight rasping noise that was so familiar to a person of his generation. It normally made others run the opposite direction, but the Sawyer brothers were a bit strange.


Logan was on the hunt. Admiral crouched down behind a mulberry bush, lips pulled back to reveal yellowed teeth. Logan followed, bringing his pipe across his chest as he crouched down to peer through the opening made at the bottom of the bush. It was cool here away from the sun and he was grateful for that.

A walker pair was stumbling towards the road. They hadn't seen him yet. They were looking for anything, snapping at each other and shuffling along with no destination in time. Logan wasn't going to let them have time to find one. A smile slid across his face. Admiral was silent beside him, licking his lips. Logan wished for what must have been the millionth time in the last year that Cole was on his other side. Admiral was nice and all and Logan would kill to save him. But it was always hard to fight without your right hand. Logan jostled himself and refocused. The walkers rasped, one of them catching his scent.

Logan burst through the bushes. Admiral went for the ankles silently while Logan swung his pipe to the closest head. The first hit always cracked the neck and knocking it over. Logan fell to one knee, slamming the sharp end of his club into the walker's head. Gore spattered him a bit as the heavy pipe crushed the zombie's skull.


The second walker had one leg now, the other grasped tightly in Admiral's mouth. It was crawling awkwardly towards him with a rasp.Logan ran forward, a grim satisfied smile on his face as his pipe sunk into the walker's brain. He missed fighting walkers side-by-side with his brother, ridding the world of evil and all, but he had to admit that it was satisfying to let everything loose and let a few heads roll.


Breathing heavy, he stood back up with a large grin. He threw his pipe into the holster he carried, and bent down to check Admiral. The dog patiently endured his investigations. Satisfied that his companion was unharmed, Logan sighed and halfheartedly kicked at one of the walkers.</sub>