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Description
An app for ~
Gosh I love that show/comic ;A;
And now it's an RP group~
I can not resist the chance to RP in a zombie apocalypse OTL

Name: Cybil Hobbins
02/16/1988, 26 y/o
Tallahassee, FL
O- Blood Type
5'6," 121 lbs
Hour-glass, Athletic build

Personality:
Having medical training, Cybil tends to stay calm quite easily in stressful situations. Her head is generally level and her thoughts quick. Cybil likes to get things done, and get them done fast and perfect. Nothing irks her more than having a job move slowly or be sloppy.
She is quick to judge, and if she thinks that someone has a terrible chance to survive, she will ignore them. Her own survival, along with her loved ones, comes before any random stranger.
Her temper is quick to flare, although she may not show it. She will take no funny business, and since the infection, she is not one for finding jokes amusing. Simply allow her time to get calm and comfortable and one might find a more enjoyable gal.

History:
(WARNING: May contain graphic content)
Cybil started life out as a normal country girl living on her parents' farm near Casper, Wyoming, with her two older brothers and younger sister.
She milked the cow in the morning, learned to knit and sew, helped plant the crops and reap them. Yet none of these errands were as amusing as when her brothers took her out hunting. The older, more experienced, boys used hunting rifles to smit their prey, swiftly ending the animal's life with a few bullets. Cybil, at first, was sickened by this method of killing. She thought, in her youthful mind, that the animal did not ave a fair chance to save its own life.
So, unlike her brothers, she took up archery. With her own make-shift bow she practiced her aim on anything she could; fence posts, walls, signs, till one day her father noted how serious she had become, and how hard she worked at mastering archery. For her tenth birthday he brought home her first compound bow, something that made her cry with glee.

As Cybil aged, her skill improved. She was bringing home dinner just as well as her brothers. Each meal from her catch filled the young teen with pride and promise.
But it is odd how one small incident in one's life can change everything.
Her father had had a farming accident, and as she watched the blood spilling from his torn crippled leg she felt helpless. The father survived with the help of a nearby town's doctor, his leg gone, but his existence going on.
This accident change Cybil, and from then on she focused on her school work over her archery, boosting her grades so she could get into medical school. Never again did she want to feel so helpless.

Cybil carefully tied up her dark locks, blue eyes staring at her makeup-less features as she pulled a sterile hairnet over a tight bun. With a sigh, she tugged sterilized gloves on, wriggling her fingers to ensure the it was a tight fit.
She had worked at this internship for half a year now. The Tallahassee heat burning her skin that had been so used to cooler norther weather, turning it a gentle shade of bronze. Yet work was work, and this internship paid, which was helping largely with her medical school loans.
She entered the spotless surgical room, a nurse nearby calming the patient while injecting the man with a narcotic, his eyes slowly drifting shut as the drug took affect.
Cybil carried in all the clean equipment, setting it down as the surgeon pushed into the room, eyes scanning to be sure his whole team was here. Once everyone was noted, and the patient double checked to have normal vital signs, the surgery began.

She did not have a serious job in the operation, no, Cybil was but a scrub nurse. The doctor called out for an instrument, and she provided, carrying the valuable tool to the man's side as others worked away at soaking up excess blood.
They were well into the operation, everyone concentrating hard, till an abrupt banging rapped at the door. Heads flashed towards the disturbance, something that did not happen normally. Nervous eyes met confused pairs as they wondered if the door should be answered, or if it should be ignored till the job was done.
After a moment of silence the doctor spoke, "Cybil, see who is at the door." A simple order, and with that he turned about, everyone zipping back to their posts to continue the surgery.

Cybil turned, curious at what could be so important as to disrupt an operation in progress. The door was silent as her gloved hand turned the pristine knob and pressed on the door.
Once a crack had been provided, greedy blood-stained hands shot though the opening, a roar bursting into the room. Cybil cried out, her form thrown against the sterile wall, a door slammed into her face as someone charged into the room.
Her heart burst with adrenaline as a scream, high and shrill, pierced the small room's clean air, till it morphed into a choke. She knew the scream, it was Wanda's voice, the RN. Cybil thrust the door forwards as other voices rose, cries growing loud in the room, and as her obstacle swung away, her blue gaze stuck on red. So much scarlet pouring from the wrong person, this excess blood not the patient's, but the nurse's. The RN made a gurgling sound as she leaned against the patient's table, hand pressed to her throat as blood gushed between her fingers. Near by the doctor pressing a crazed man to the wall, crimson smeared the surface there, the man snapping his jaws in madness, or in hunger.
"Put him under," cried the surgeon over and over, trying to get the shoched nurses to tranquilize the mad man, but it seemed as if all ears were numb to his shouts.

Caroline came to her senses first, crying to Cybil for the shot. Cybil rushed to the counter, hands shaking as she scrambled for the narcotic, before flying to the nurse's side. Caroline gathered the shot between gloved fingers, launching to the doctor's side as he screamed in pain, the crazed man burying red teeth through blue cloth. The needle struck through random flesh, the woman having no time to aim for a vein.
Yet the man felt nothing, and the doctor felt everything. The mad man pulled back, tearing a hunk of bloody flesh and muscle from the surgeons arm, loose veins hanging as crimson pumped.
A high gruff yowl took the room's attention once more as a patient, still in her pale green gown, ran into the room, red footprints in her wake. She paid no mind to the doctor whose face was being ripped at, nor the nurse who fought to save her companion. Her hungry eyes only had room for the unconscious patient on the table and the dead nurse at her bare feet.
Into the slumbering patient tore the horrifying woman, pulling at his exposed lungs, tearing them fom his chest and stuffing the fresh organs into her gaping lips.

Cybil, before she knew it, had a scalpel in her gloved hands, white fingers launching at the silver handle as her heart lurched at the morbid sight.
The surgeon no longer moved, the crazed man now taking hold of the fighting nurse, digging its greedy teeth into her arm while crimson hands began to tear at her stomach. The heart monitor cried a never ending beep as the mad woman lunged her head into the patient's chest, tearing one his rib cage while the last remaining surgical nurse wept in the corner.

Cybil's stood there, taking in the scene till the mad woman raised her head, a scratchy inhaled growl scrapping over her ripped lips. Cybil's body screamed for her to run, to leave all those dying around her, to preserve her own existence, and she did.
She raced from the room, dread and fear pulsing with each rushed heart beat, her feet sprinting down the hall that revealed a similar horror to her operation room. Bodies of nurses littered the floor, starving patients feeding at the warm moist tissues.
As Cybil flew by, their heads turned, snarls erupting as they abandoned their meals for something more fresh. She slid around a corner, surgical shoes skidding over a stretch of blood, to face the next terror. Scarlet smeared the walls, puddled on the tiled floors, nurses she thought were dead drew up to their feet as she ran by, another chorus of gurgling growls filling the once peaceful hall.

She was sobbing, salty tears racing down her cheeks to drip from her chin to the haunting red floors. Her shoes were slick now, footprints telling the story of her flight, and her fall. She slipped forwards, jaw slamming painfulling against the hard soaked tiles, an involuntary cry echoing down the hall, adding to the screams that came from further ahead.
Pounding feet slapped through puddles, racing past the cold lifeless body of another nurse she knew. Cybil scrambled forwards, before hearing a roar at her back. She flipped over, blue outfit turning a horrendous shade of red as a nude patient tackled her, slamming her slightly raised form back to the harsh unforgiving tiles.
Her hands kept the beer bellied man at bay, but his weight was quickly becoming too heavy.

I'm going to die, she screamed in her head, despair flooding her chest as the ugly face longed to gnaw on her neck. Shaking, her arms were shaking so much. Tears blinded her eyes, but they did not hide the glint of her weapon.
In a desperate act, Cybil took her occupied hand and shoved the blade through his forehead, the silver tool stuck in the man's cranium, unable to be pulled out again.
Yet he kept on fighting. He was not going to give up on a chunk of her throat, and the clumsy herd of racing, and slipping, feet was entering her hall. They were all going to eat her, she was going to die! Her body would join the lifeless that lined the hall!
A living visitor raced by, flip flops slapping loudly through the blood, her panting sharp, as she ran for her life, only to have it end in a muffled cry of terror. The crowd of crazy people diving on her, pulling her apart in a frenzied meal. But above Cybil, the insane man had became dead weight.

She struggled to throw him off, and once he was marinating in his own juices, Cybil scrambled to her feet and fled once more. She kicked her slippery shoes off and ran down a hall of crying men and women, people dying around her as she sped by on bare feet.
She swerved, lungs burning, heart aching, into a patient's room, slamming the door shut behind her. The white sheets of the nearby bed were dyed crimson, but Cybil had no time to appreciate the new sheet color, she shoved the bed before the door and racing to the window.
Crowds were racing from the front door as police cars pulled up, cops jumping to their duty only to be trampled by the fleeing herds, or jumped on by the crazed patients, or once sane nurses.

Cybil's head swerved, a banging sounding at the door behind her, the bed inching away from where she wanted it to stay, fingers poking through the crack. She needed to go now, but, as she peered over the windw's ledge, she saw how high she was. It was merely the second story, but the fall could leave her legs useless.
The bed screeched across the floor behind her, the muscle inside her rib cage beating painfully as she took her chances.
Cybil leapt, plummeting to the grass and bushes below, and as soon as contact was made she rolled, saving her legs from the dangerous fall. However there was no time to patently recover or catch her breath. She hopped to her bare feet and began to run to the safest place she could think of.
Home.
Her apartment was two blocks away, one she got just so getting to work wouldn't need expensive gas.
Her whole body was a knot of pain but she fled on, shots of guns ringing out behind her as more police sirens burst above the terrified screams.

One block blurred by, and a second, and finally her home was in sight. Not bothering to deal with the old shaky elevator, Cybil took the stairs, red footprints from her own bloodied feet trailing behind her as she charged up the steps.
Past a door to the right, past a door to the left, and one more to the right, there! Oh how the door had never looked so amazing. Shaky fingers, slippery with blood, reached below her door mat, revealing a key which she then began struggling to get into the lock. With a click came relief, and once she was in her home she took no time to rest.
Cybil gathered food and water, her newest compound bow and kitchen knives, spare clothing and a sleeping bag and she was off.

A week later, after looting supplies, collecting food, and stocking up on clean water, and making stops in small towns, her car had run out of gas with no fuel stop in sight. Forced, now, to abandon most of her loot, she crammed as much as she could into her backpack and hiked up to Atlanta.
After sneaking through crowded streets, she finally found a seemingly abandoned elementary school. And there, she found Bernard
Bernard's side of the story up soon~

Specialty:
Cybil has kept up Archery her whole life, only giving it up for six years before retaking it up once she moved to Tallahassee. She is a good shot, and can easily take down zombies from afar.
Cybil is also trained in the medical field. Although her training has gone incomplete and she has never performed a true surgery. This leaves her with only her learned knowledge to help in times of danger.

Weapons:
Compound Bow - Cybil bought this bow when she moved into Tallahassee a year ago after finding an archery range.
Kitchen Knives - Once Cybil raced into her apartment after the start of the infection, she grabbed a set of knives she had in the kitchen. She always stores on in her right boot.

Fighting Style:
Cybil is not the type of woman to race up to a zombie and shoot its brains out. Rather, she prefers to move in the darkness, even at night, and remain as silent as possible.
ATK - 2 Cybil is not good at close range fighting, if she ever encounters it, she runs, or attempts to stab the attacker's head with a knife.
AGL - 7 With her bow, she is one quick shot. A simple aim and release and her target is gone. As long as she goes unnoticed, Cybil can almost always take down her enemies.
DEF - 1 But she has little muscle for protecting herself, along with little training. Cybil will almost always choose to run and gain distance than get anywhere near close quarters.

Special Item:
Cybil only takes what she needs. She has no special item on her being beside the equipment necessary to survive.

Fun Facts:
• Cybil always wears goggles and a handkerchief over her face, for she does not know if the virus causing the zombies has air born qualities.
• She cares for Bernard greatly, always giving him lessons and teaching the young boy how to survive in this new world.
• Sadly, Cybil is terrible at cutting hair, yet she does it every so often for Bernard, which is why his locks are uneven.
• Cybil's goal is to make it back to Wyoming and make sure her family has survived the viral attack.
• Her favored colors are blue and white.

Art (c) me
App (c) ~Flansy
Concept (c) The Walking Dead

Description
An app for ~
Gosh I love that show/comic ;A;
And now it's an RP group~
I can not resist the chance to RP in a zombie apocalypse OTL

Name: Cybil Hobbins
02/16/1988, 26 y/o
Tallahassee, FL
O- Blood Type
5'6," 121 lbs
Hour-glass, Athletic build

Personality:
Having medical training, Cybil tends to stay calm quite easily in stressful situations. Her head is generally level and her thoughts quick. Cybil likes to get things done, and get them done fast and perfect. Nothing irks her more than having a job move slowly or be sloppy.
She is quick to judge, and if she thinks that someone has a terrible chance to survive, she will ignore them. Her own survival, along with her loved ones, comes before any random stranger.
Her temper is quick to flare, although she may not show it. She will take no funny business, and since the infection, she is not one for finding jokes amusing. Simply allow her time to get calm and comfortable and one might find a more enjoyable gal.

History:
(WARNING: May contain graphic content)
Cybil started life out as a normal country girl living on her parents' farm near Casper, Wyoming, with her two older brothers and younger sister.
She milked the cow in the morning, learned to knit and sew, helped plant the crops and reap them. Yet none of these errands were as amusing as when her brothers took her out hunting. The older, more experienced, boys used hunting rifles to smit their prey, swiftly ending the animal's life with a few bullets. Cybil, at first, was sickened by this method of killing. She thought, in her youthful mind, that the animal did not ave a fair chance to save its own life.
So, unlike her brothers, she took up archery. With her own make-shift bow she practiced her aim on anything she could; fence posts, walls, signs, till one day her father noted how serious she had become, and how hard she worked at mastering archery. For her tenth birthday he brought home her first compound bow, something that made her cry with glee.

As Cybil aged, her skill improved. She was bringing home dinner just as well as her brothers. Each meal from her catch filled the young teen with pride and promise.
But it is odd how one small incident in one's life can change everything.
Her father had had a farming accident, and as she watched the blood spilling from his torn crippled leg she felt helpless. The father survived with the help of a nearby town's doctor, his leg gone, but his existence going on.
This accident change Cybil, and from then on she focused on her school work over her archery, boosting her grades so she could get into medical school. Never again did she want to feel so helpless.

Cybil carefully tied up her dark locks, blue eyes staring at her makeup-less features as she pulled a sterile hairnet over a tight bun. With a sigh, she tugged sterilized gloves on, wriggling her fingers to ensure the it was a tight fit.
She had worked at this internship for half a year now. The Tallahassee heat burning her skin that had been so used to cooler norther weather, turning it a gentle shade of bronze. Yet work was work, and this internship paid, which was helping largely with her medical school loans.
She entered the spotless surgical room, a nurse nearby calming the patient while injecting the man with a narcotic, his eyes slowly drifting shut as the drug took affect.
Cybil carried in all the clean equipment, setting it down as the surgeon pushed into the room, eyes scanning to be sure his whole team was here. Once everyone was noted, and the patient double checked to have normal vital signs, the surgery began.

She did not have a serious job in the operation, no, Cybil was but a scrub nurse. The doctor called out for an instrument, and she provided, carrying the valuable tool to the man's side as others worked away at soaking up excess blood.
They were well into the operation, everyone concentrating hard, till an abrupt banging rapped at the door. Heads flashed towards the disturbance, something that did not happen normally. Nervous eyes met confused pairs as they wondered if the door should be answered, or if it should be ignored till the job was done.
After a moment of silence the doctor spoke, "Cybil, see who is at the door." A simple order, and with that he turned about, everyone zipping back to their posts to continue the surgery.

Cybil turned, curious at what could be so important as to disrupt an operation in progress. The door was silent as her gloved hand turned the pristine knob and pressed on the door.
Once a crack had been provided, greedy blood-stained hands shot though the opening, a roar bursting into the room. Cybil cried out, her form thrown against the sterile wall, a door slammed into her face as someone charged into the room.
Her heart burst with adrenaline as a scream, high and shrill, pierced the small room's clean air, till it morphed into a choke. She knew the scream, it was Wanda's voice, the RN. Cybil thrust the door forwards as other voices rose, cries growing loud in the room, and as her obstacle swung away, her blue gaze stuck on red. So much scarlet pouring from the wrong person, this excess blood not the patient's, but the nurse's. The RN made a gurgling sound as she leaned against the patient's table, hand pressed to her throat as blood gushed between her fingers. Near by the doctor pressing a crazed man to the wall, crimson smeared the surface there, the man snapping his jaws in madness, or in hunger.
"Put him under," cried the surgeon over and over, trying to get the shoched nurses to tranquilize the mad man, but it seemed as if all ears were numb to his shouts.

Caroline came to her senses first, crying to Cybil for the shot. Cybil rushed to the counter, hands shaking as she scrambled for the narcotic, before flying to the nurse's side. Caroline gathered the shot between gloved fingers, launching to the doctor's side as he screamed in pain, the crazed man burying red teeth through blue cloth. The needle struck through random flesh, the woman having no time to aim for a vein.
Yet the man felt nothing, and the doctor felt everything. The mad man pulled back, tearing a hunk of bloody flesh and muscle from the surgeons arm, loose veins hanging as crimson pumped.
A high gruff yowl took the room's attention once more as a patient, still in her pale green gown, ran into the room, red footprints in her wake. She paid no mind to the doctor whose face was being ripped at, nor the nurse who fought to save her companion. Her hungry eyes only had room for the unconscious patient on the table and the dead nurse at her bare feet.
Into the slumbering patient tore the horrifying woman, pulling at his exposed lungs, tearing them fom his chest and stuffing the fresh organs into her gaping lips.

Cybil, before she knew it, had a scalpel in her gloved hands, white fingers launching at the silver handle as her heart lurched at the morbid sight.
The surgeon no longer moved, the crazed man now taking hold of the fighting nurse, digging its greedy teeth into her arm while crimson hands began to tear at her stomach. The heart monitor cried a never ending beep as the mad woman lunged her head into the patient's chest, tearing one his rib cage while the last remaining surgical nurse wept in the corner.

Cybil's stood there, taking in the scene till the mad woman raised her head, a scratchy inhaled growl scrapping over her ripped lips. Cybil's body screamed for her to run, to leave all those dying around her, to preserve her own existence, and she did.
She raced from the room, dread and fear pulsing with each rushed heart beat, her feet sprinting down the hall that revealed a similar horror to her operation room. Bodies of nurses littered the floor, starving patients feeding at the warm moist tissues.
As Cybil flew by, their heads turned, snarls erupting as they abandoned their meals for something more fresh. She slid around a corner, surgical shoes skidding over a stretch of blood, to face the next terror. Scarlet smeared the walls, puddled on the tiled floors, nurses she thought were dead drew up to their feet as she ran by, another chorus of gurgling growls filling the once peaceful hall.

She was sobbing, salty tears racing down her cheeks to drip from her chin to the haunting red floors. Her shoes were slick now, footprints telling the story of her flight, and her fall. She slipped forwards, jaw slamming painfulling against the hard soaked tiles, an involuntary cry echoing down the hall, adding to the screams that came from further ahead.
Pounding feet slapped through puddles, racing past the cold lifeless body of another nurse she knew. Cybil scrambled forwards, before hearing a roar at her back. She flipped over, blue outfit turning a horrendous shade of red as a nude patient tackled her, slamming her slightly raised form back to the harsh unforgiving tiles.
Her hands kept the beer bellied man at bay, but his weight was quickly becoming too heavy.

I'm going to die, she screamed in her head, despair flooding her chest as the ugly face longed to gnaw on her neck. Shaking, her arms were shaking so much. Tears blinded her eyes, but they did not hide the glint of her weapon.
In a desperate act, Cybil took her occupied hand and shoved the blade through his forehead, the silver tool stuck in the man's cranium, unable to be pulled out again.
Yet he kept on fighting. He was not going to give up on a chunk of her throat, and the clumsy herd of racing, and slipping, feet was entering her hall. They were all going to eat her, she was going to die! Her body would join the lifeless that lined the hall!
A living visitor raced by, flip flops slapping loudly through the blood, her panting sharp, as she ran for her life, only to have it end in a muffled cry of terror. The crowd of crazy people diving on her, pulling her apart in a frenzied meal. But above Cybil, the insane man had became dead weight.

She struggled to throw him off, and once he was marinating in his own juices, Cybil scrambled to her feet and fled once more. She kicked her slippery shoes off and ran down a hall of crying men and women, people dying around her as she sped by on bare feet.
She swerved, lungs burning, heart aching, into a patient's room, slamming the door shut behind her. The white sheets of the nearby bed were dyed crimson, but Cybil had no time to appreciate the new sheet color, she shoved the bed before the door and racing to the window.
Crowds were racing from the front door as police cars pulled up, cops jumping to their duty only to be trampled by the fleeing herds, or jumped on by the crazed patients, or once sane nurses.

Cybil's head swerved, a banging sounding at the door behind her, the bed inching away from where she wanted it to stay, fingers poking through the crack. She needed to go now, but, as she peered over the windw's ledge, she saw how high she was. It was merely the second story, but the fall could leave her legs useless.
The bed screeched across the floor behind her, the muscle inside her rib cage beating painfully as she took her chances.
Cybil leapt, plummeting to the grass and bushes below, and as soon as contact was made she rolled, saving her legs from the dangerous fall. However there was no time to patently recover or catch her breath. She hopped to her bare feet and began to run to the safest place she could think of.
Home.
Her apartment was two blocks away, one she got just so getting to work wouldn't need expensive gas.
Her whole body was a knot of pain but she fled on, shots of guns ringing out behind her as more police sirens burst above the terrified screams.

One block blurred by, and a second, and finally her home was in sight. Not bothering to deal with the old shaky elevator, Cybil took the stairs, red footprints from her own bloodied feet trailing behind her as she charged up the steps.
Past a door to the right, past a door to the left, and one more to the right, there! Oh how the door had never looked so amazing. Shaky fingers, slippery with blood, reached below her door mat, revealing a key which she then began struggling to get into the lock. With a click came relief, and once she was in her home she took no time to rest.
Cybil gathered food and water, her newest compound bow and kitchen knives, spare clothing and a sleeping bag and she was off.

A week later, after looting supplies, collecting food, and stocking up on clean water, and making stops in small towns, her car had run out of gas with no fuel stop in sight. Forced, now, to abandon most of her loot, she crammed as much as she could into her backpack and hiked up to Atlanta.
After sneaking through crowded streets, she finally found a seemingly abandoned elementary school. And there, she found Bernard
Bernard's side of the story up soon~

Specialty:
Cybil has kept up Archery her whole life, only giving it up for six years before retaking it up once she moved to Tallahassee. She is a good shot, and can easily take down zombies from afar.
Cybil is also trained in the medical field. Although her training has gone incomplete and she has never performed a true surgery. This leaves her with only her learned knowledge to help in times of danger.

Weapons:
Compound Bow - Cybil bought this bow when she moved into Tallahassee a year ago after finding an archery range.
Kitchen Knives - Once Cybil raced into her apartment after the start of the infection, she grabbed a set of knives she had in the kitchen. She always stores on in her right boot.

Fighting Style:
Cybil is not the type of woman to race up to a zombie and shoot its brains out. Rather, she prefers to move in the darkness, even at night, and remain as silent as possible.
ATK - 2 Cybil is not good at close range fighting, if she ever encounters it, she runs, or attempts to stab the attacker's head with a knife.
AGL - 7 With her bow, she is one quick shot. A simple aim and release and her target is gone. As long as she goes unnoticed, Cybil can almost always take down her enemies.
DEF - 1 But she has little muscle for protecting herself, along with little training. Cybil will almost always choose to run and gain distance than get anywhere near close quarters.

Special Item:
Cybil only takes what she needs. She has no special item on her being beside the equipment necessary to survive.

Fun Facts:
• Cybil always wears goggles and a handkerchief over her face, for she does not know if the virus causing the zombies has air born qualities.
• She cares for Bernard greatly, always giving him lessons and teaching the young boy how to survive in this new world.
• Sadly, Cybil is terrible at cutting hair, yet she does it every so often for Bernard, which is why his locks are uneven.
• Cybil's goal is to make it back to Wyoming and make sure her family has survived the viral attack.
• Her favored colors are blue and white.

Art (c) me
App (c) ~Flansy
Concept (c) The Walking Dead