Il a hurlé par pur respect pour Isam avant de hurler à Ravenia, comprenant son commandement fort et clair. La regarder se transformer en corvid n'était rien d'étonnant pour lui, mais même tant qu'il l'avait connue, c'était encore une de ces choses qu'il ne pouvait tout simplement pas expliquer. Il n'était pas aussi aggravé par la perspective des pouvoirs mystiques qu'il l'était auparavant. Bien sûr, il n'arrivait toujours pas à comprendre comment ils fonctionnaient, mais il ne ressentait pas la colère de ne pas savoir, mais la curiosité joyeuse de la façon dont ça fonctionnait.

"Pechew. C'est Pechew. kaboom...!" La fille s'est chuchotée et a fait des bruits d'explosion alors qu'elle regardait Ravenia à travers son champ de tir. "Et Mlle Gladwyn s'aligne sur le tir, prend le coup. Oh, quel merveilleux fusil elle utilise aujourd'hui, hein, Le cerveau gauche?"
En faisant des sons statiques radio avec sa bouche, elle s'est fait passer pour une autre voix. "Bien sûr, le cerveau droit. La rumeur dit qu'on lui a donné ce fusil à la légendaire chasseuse des déchets elle-même! La mère de Cynthia, Renée Gladwyn!"
Voir Ramera elle-même prendre le ciel aussi, en déplaçant sa vue sur la harpie. De sa position dans les hauts-fonds, elle pouvait voir tant de choses. C'était un merveilleux point de vue, et elle n'était même pas tout à fait sûre si le village savait encore de sa présence.
Cynthia s'était emparé d'une voiturette il y a une semaine. Elle n'osait pas prendre une des caravanes de la Nouvelle-Arabie, juste un des plus petits commerçants dans les déchets. Une fois qu'elle est entrée dans la ville, elle a cherché le meilleur endroit pour se cacher et regarder, sans mentionner assez près pour qu'elle vende ses marchandises afin qu'elle puisse être entrée et sortie du marché en un éclair. Elle était curieuse si ce garde de porte, celui qui n'a jamais dormi, était gentil et laissait passer la petite ole dans la pitié, ou s'il ne savait vraiment pas. Elle le regardait depuis des jours, et il dormait à peine ou faisait autre chose que du travail. Il était intéressant, mais la mère et ses Harpies étaient plus cool à son avis.
:.Born As.:
Carl-Wayne Thule
:.What You see.:

"The only easy day was yesterday"
"Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity"
A general description:
Roughly 5'10" probably closer to 6' if not for the noticeable hunched over look from being in his half dead state. A rather stocky guy considering. Built like a bear with toned muscles and large hands and feet. He's bald but has some greyed/ashy colored facial hair. Forehead is deeply wrinkled, an obvious abnormal aging effect on certain areas of his skin.
He wears handmade leather and plant fiber clothing (blends of cotton and various similar woven fibers. His leather pants and shoes are both a deep brown color with reddish brown dirt stains on them. Relatively clean for living in the wastes. He obviously takes great pride in the things he creates with his own hands. He also wears a handmade leather vest that has snug pockets on the front and sides that carry his various field tools (hunting/carving knives, ropes and fasteners, etc.)
He has several scars on his forearms that will probably never heal due to his half dead state. His eyes give him away, where use to be brown irises are now hollow looking grey circles.
:.Also Known As.:
The Woodsman, The Hunter, Old man, Treekeeper.
:.Appear To Be.:
(Late 40s-50s) he actually died at 35 but came back mostly the same with a few side effects.
:.The Doctor Said.:
Male
:.I Swing Towards.:
Straight.
:.People Say.:
Generally good natured man, likes to be alone, but will never turn down a good conversation, or a good glass of whiskey. Willing to lend a hand, but doesn't take Sh** from anyone. Has a soft heart for children and women in distress.
Hates his condition, and most others like him. Goes out of his way to avoid other half dead, and kills any of the actually dead that he sees. Mostly to protect the living but secretly because he hates them.
People recognize him as a master craftsman of primitive items (utensils, tools, weapons like bows and arrows and swords/knives, pottery.) And generally enjoy his meat products from his forest gatherings (steaks, jerkys, etc.)
:.What I Like To Do.:
Hunt, craft, play guitar, write, fix things, anything he can do with his hands that keeps him distracted from being a half dead outcast.
:.Profession.:
Hunter/craftsman
:.The Past Was.:
Before the fall Carl-Wayne worked in a lumber mill and was always sort of the outdoorsman type. Him and his wife Cindy lived in a cabin about 10 miles from the mill. He was quite the musician, not overly handsome, but his build commanded looks and respect from those around him. He had no children as his wife was infertile. He always wanted kids but she meant the world to him and he wouldn't change a thing.
He was always good at trade work and working with his hands, he really was a simple man in those times. He had a dog named Buck, and went to church on Sundays, not so much because he was religious, but there wasn't much else to do in his small town, and Cindy seemed to find some peace in life with it, so it stuck.
:.The Proud.:
Half dead woodsman.
:.A Glorious Gift.:
-Half Dead do not need to eat or drink, though doing so does help keep their bodies from decaying like a normal Dead body does. However some Half-Dead already show minor or heavy signs of decay to varying degrees(peeling skin, dilated white lifeless eyes, etc.)
-They do not feel pain.
-They cannot die unless their brain is destroyed.
-They are not attacked by The Dead.
:.What I Have On Me.:
Various hunting/gathering/crafting tools and items.
Several handmade instruments (guitars, harmonica, hand drums, etc.)
Finely crafted bow and arrows
Crossbow
Various finely crafted knives, machetes, Hammers
Homemade whiskies
:.Who I Know.:
(Your relations to the other characters. )
Billy the orphan boy (staying in refugee camp)
Item B
Item C
:.Blood.:
(Your character's family members. Alive and/or Deceased)
Cindy Thule - Wife - Deceased
Jacob Thule - Brother - Deceased
Anthony Thule - Brother - Deceased
:.Behind The Scenes.:
Plays a mean game of Poker.