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Name: Conroy Folles Lewis
Nickname: Con
Class: Scavenger/ "Treasure Hunter"
Gender: Male
Age: 52
Sexuality: Straight
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 135 lbs.
Scars/Tattoos/Birthmarks: Two scars located on his left side of the waist. Some feint burn marks on the right side of the face. Warts on back of his palm and feet. The most significant is a bullet wound that has penetrated his right shoulder, it has been treated but has left a crippling disability.
Noticeable Differences from Picture: Hair is grey instead of white and his undershirt is more dirty
Relationship Status: Widower
Personality: Con has seen it all, right from Doomsday 1 from how things went to hell. He has developed mostly a cold exterior but knows how to keep a poker face right so people can never tell what is exactly he is thinking and if you do, he's probably wanting to make you believe it that way. Generally, he's a fox but the one thing you can count on him is when he sets to loot something, he'll keep his end of the bargain and you better not cross him. If he's got something sell, or trade, you wouldn't be disappointed. Although it is his profession, he finds 'scavenger' a derogatory term, instead prefers the term 'trader' or 'treasure hunter'.

Despite this, Con has a soft spot for very young kids, which is rare nowadays and even if there's one, he can't help but feel pitiful; they're probably better off dead than living this nightmare. However, despite being actually good natured, he keeps some distance, not just to keep him alive but had lost so much he doesn't endure more emotional pain. The bullet wound often reminding him the failures of his past and will probably haunt till the end of his days.

Bio: One of the few remaining survivors that has lived thru and seen the chaos of the dark times. Con was only 18, working several months as a garbage man to fund for his wife's college fee, before the world went to chaos. During this time, he was in Garland, Texas when the bombs struck. He and his friends ran to the remotest regions as far as they could get. Many of them didn't make it. To make matters worse, Con had to struggle between survival and saving his wife. In the end, he was forced to ditch his buddies to get her out of the state of New York, unsure if she was even alive to begin with after all cell networks died off.

Thankfully, she was alright but that was just the beginning of problems to come. As much as he tried, he couldn't get them out of the country--the roads we're blocked, boats were sunk and aircraft were grounded. Even with the martial law in effect, the government and military has gone so bad they're just ready to shoot anyone on sight for 'sense of the greater good'. Didn't exactly helped that he killed some of their men in the process but mostly out of self-defense. As struggle grew and tensions rose, his wife got ill. With doctors nowhere to be found and most hospitals were located in major cities that had been wiped off, not even a vet was available and the damned war was still ongoing. He had only one option: Stay, pray, and wait it out.

He took shelter in an abandoned military base but by some cruel joke, his old 'buddies' were there. With desperation pushing them to the edge, a gun battle ensued. His closest best friend, always hated his wife and blaming her for his betrayal, aimed to kill her off. Con dove in front of bullet to shield her. It hit his shoulder but he wished that would've just stopped there; the round was a piercing type. Though both of them wounded, Con used every bit of his strength, scrounged up both supplies from their cars and used medicals found at the base. They shut the door and sealed themselves in, peace at last or so it seemed. The last word they heard from the outside world was that Washington was struck down.

Years went by. In the end, only Con came out only to bury his wife, and their child who the mother's illness had claimed. Everything seemed pointless now to go on living. He was just scouting the place around for somewhere he could give a proper burial, including a nice place to kill himself. Such pleasantries were hard to come by in a barren world. To make it even harsher, a group of bandits knocked him out and took him away to God knows where.

He was going to be auctioned off for trade for slavery but it was difficult as who wanted a crippling old man? Besides, his right shoulder isn't what it used to be either. Without much options and little to do, Con passed the time by simply sorting trash and recyclable junk, trying to pretend living the old life again. A young bandit, curious, saw what he was doing and became amused. He then consulted with his father and as a test, gave him time to collect and sort junk vs others, including some of the bandit leader's own men. Con made the cut; it's a lot better than becoming cannibal food. With his new found place in the desolate world, he saved loads of time and bullets for the bandits. It was like Christmas everyday and seemed to work well but giving presents to bad kids just gets them spoiled; the bandit leader grows in demands.

John, the bandit leader's son who saw his talent, came to befriend him and only closest friend among the thugs, came to like and want to learn his magic overtime. He was like the son he never had but as they grew attached to each other, John later revealed he was doing so to make him obsolete and disposable. He wasn't just doing it for the group but for himself, to prove his use to his ruthless father who saw his son as 'weak', only surviving because he was the leader's son.

During a convoy raid, John told him to get out during the fight but Con wouldn't, not unless he came with him. They tried to hijack a car from the convoy but things got hairier when another bandit group attacked them.
In the end, John was left for dead and their group got almost zilch. There was much frustration and pointing blames on everyone. Con had set his dagger eyes on John's father who bailed out first before anyone else to save his own skin. A guy like that who couldn't even look after his own son, doesn't deserve the leader title. However, Con could pretty much see how the group was turning on each other. He didn't do much, just misplaced a few important items and soon the group would whip into a frenzy. He killed off the weakened survivors, managed to avoid much of the fight beforehand by playing dead.

Con took what he can and headed off to the road, venturing town-to-town, offering his goods and sometimes, his services, mostly shopkeepers or smiths running low on supplies. He has developed method to keep his goods intact and, given his age, learns to outwit or negotiate most people rather than brute force. He himself is getting tired with all the fighting.

All the while finding a way back to his wife and kid...waiting for him.

Fatal Flaw: Right shoulder wound has left him a permanent distinct disability that he can't raise his right arm above his shoulder.

Strengths
+Wits and years of experience.
+Finding supplies, the best places to look and sharp eye to detail.
+Crackshot, especially with the rifle (though not armed with one right now)
Weakness:
-Age, not as athletic as he used to be so relies mostly stealth.
-Difficult to earn his trust
-Soft spot for kids
Likes:
✔Storytelling
✔A sound deal
✔Reliable customers
✔A good bath and nice bed
Dislikes:
✖Getting crossed
✖Confrontations
✖Bandits
✖Calling his stash 'just junk'

Other Information:
*An atheist though still uses 'God' because people need a crouch to hang onto.
*Knows some patching and tailoring
*Can craft some of the stuff he finds into boardgames
*Plans to go to Radioactive City for the possibility of untouchable loot
*Apart from noticeable backpack, he also has a belt pouch and pockets on his holster vest.

Approved