Karl Sanders

6’2" Heavy-Muscled Build, Slight Muscle Definition, Caucasian, Brown Hair, Hazel Green Eyes. Straight, single.




Keeping myself sane, in this crazy, fucked up world.

Rage Stimulus: Fear Stimulus: Noble Stimulus:
Seeing people get kicked when they are already down/incapacitated (hurt even more, brutality). That really pisses me off. Losing my sanity. Losing my grip on reality. Learning that everything I did/accomplished, was for nothing. Striving in the face of adversity, as in keep on going no matter what the odds. Persevering for a noble reason.


Body 75 Speed 37 Mind 75 Soul 35
Power Lifter 64 Initiative 36 Paramedic 42 Charm 24
Bear Strength 39 Dodge 20 Notice 30 Lying 30
Yoga Student 10 Driving 28 Conceal 31 Appreciating Physical
Aesthetic 15
Investor 10
Gear Head 10


Violence Unnatural Helplessness Isolation Self
Hardened 5 2 0 0 1
Failed 1 0 1 0 1
Your attitude towards violence shows on your face when the subject comes up in conversation, unless you work to keep it hidden. You’re a little finicky or meticulous, trying to eliminate the possibility of something going wrong. Every now and then you feel a sense of dissociation, an eerie moment when you feel alienated from your own…


Paramedic Kit
A few things Karl snagged from the ambulances he has rode in before. Little things that a stocked ambulance always has that wouldn’t be missed if one “went missing.” Karl keeps it in his room at his apt. mostly, but does take it with him in his car if he feels like he might need it.

“Karl’s Letters”

Letter 1

Dear Mom & Paul,

I don’t really know how to start this. I thought I should write a letter explaining how I died in case I did die . . . but . . . knowing the Legion, they probably don’t send out condolences to the families of those who are in their service. But I don’t care, someone will read this, someone will know.

My name is Karl Sanders. I was born and raised in Southern California, L.A. to be exact. I grew up in a high middle class family. A Mom, dad, and a brother 5 yrs. younger than me. I grew up in the 80’s, and anyone who was in L.A. at that time could tell you, it was crazy. Where my family lived was in an area right on the border of the south side. Despite growing up hearing gunshots, and being afraid of a drive-by happening, I did pretty well in school. I was on the Honor Roll and the football team. It made it real easy to stay away from those kids in my neighborhood who were always bored and ended up doing something stupid, like stealing, or getting arrested. Some of them were really good friends that I grew up with.

Because I did well in high-school I qualified for and received a lot of grants & other financial aid when I got accepted into West L.A. College. I knew myself pretty well and knew that if I couldn’t stop those from from making the wrong decision then at least I could do my best to make sure they were alive to get it right the next time. That’s when I decided to become a paramedic through West LA. At 20, I finished school and was ready to intern for a year.

At 22 I was a paramedic. It was hard and pain staking work, but at the end of the day I could sleep. I knew and felt I was doing my part. What the adults wanted to do with their life was their business, I just made sure they stayed alive until they could get the complete help they needed. That isn’t to say that I didn’t lose any . . . but . . . at that time I felt that the ones I lost had, had their chance at life, and they chose to take this path that led to a short life span. For those who were only 16 or 17 I did my best to comfort them, and let them know that they weren’t alone. That they were not dying alone, because I was there with them and that they would be okay. Luckily, for me, 16 & 17 were the only young ones I treated and lost.

At 24 . . . I lost one too many for me to be okay, and I quite my job and fell into a depression. I didn’t leave my family’s property for 3 months. I stayed inside mostly, only going outside into the back yard at night from time to time. After 3 months, I knew I couldn’t keep myself locked away. I wasn’t doing myself or anybody any good just sitting there. I needed to move on, I just didn’t know how, until I saw a billboard saying, “Just Get Away and Check Out Seattle.” I took it as a sign and used most of my saving to move to Seattle. A fresh start. My mom didn’t want me to go, but she agreed when I told her that this is what I needed if I was to get better.

I’m 24 and living in Seattle. I found a place in the Queen Anne area. I’m sharing a two bedroom with another guy named Keith. He works a middle-income job at Microsoft, not one of their egg heads, but in clerical or something. I don’t know he doesn’t talk much and I don’t ask much. I got a job working at a dinner as a shift-lead. I work good and hard and make it to Assistant Manager. I try my best to forget/forgive my past, but 2 yrs. later and I still struggle with it. I have relaxed around my co-workers a bit and I hang-out with them about once a month. They want me to come more often but, I just don’t feel ready to be close to people yet.

Then it happened in one night. The dinner gets thrashed, then burnt. My co-worker ends up being involved in some weird magic underground. My car melts, the only girl that works at the dinner turns out is way more into anime than I thought possible. We fight a bridge witch, the Seattle P.D., body possessing demons, a horde of suicidal catatonic people, and if it is to be believed a stone troll. And to top it all off, I’m the one that gets pinned on any of it. How is that fucking fare.

In holding I get made a deal by this magic-user representing a group known only as Legion. So, I’m out and clear of all police charges, as long as I do as I’m told and take orders. I wonder now where in my choices did I go wrong to go from crazy LA to even crazier Seattle. Part of me wants to just leave again, but the Legion wouldn’t make it easy. The major part of me wants to stay, because I can’t keep running away every time life gets hard. I have to face it head on and I can’t abandon my friends. Wyst and Allister are still here, even if Donald and Leroy are gone now, but still close . . . somewhere in Seattle.

If I am dead and you are reading this, then know that I did my best to die for a good reason. Hopefully saving some innocent person’s life.

Karl Sanders

Karl Sanders

Unknown Armies - Seattle DerekParedes