You'd left your previous group, those bastards were greedy and put you in too much danger, you couldn't trust them. It had been a few months on the road for you while you were walking through the woods when you stumbled on a camp of survivors, though, they were not happy to see you.

"Drop your weapons and bag, all of it, on the ground!" A tall man with oily hair said as he walked towards you, a sheriff's uniform on.

"Don't pull anything on us," A short man said, a cap on his head and a knowing look.

"Where are you from? How'd you get here? Are you alone?" Another man said as he got up in your face, a large nose that looked like it had been broken before and a slightly deranged glare in his eye.

"Hold it, come on, let the soul breathe, will 'ya?!" An older man with a fisher's hat and Hawaiian shirt said, with a huff as he made the others give you space, a rifle over his shoulder and his dark eyebrows contrasting his white puffy beard. "How old are you kid? How long have you been out here? You don't look too good." He said. He seemed like he genuinely cared... The first to offer you kindness in the apocalypse... Outwardly he looked like a grandpa, and his get-up reminded you of fatherly feelings.

"I'm Dale, sorry for the unruly welcome. We may be in a world crisis but manners still count... Well, to me at least!" Dale said glaring at the others.