Ozmic
Whiskered Writer
Hunter Madson
WRITTEN DESCRIPTION:
Hunter is a strong and chiseled man, with eyes of deep emerald and flesh marred and tanned with years of work. With a physique to match his rugged appearance, he stands tall and looming, despite not being overly muscular. His features - once kind and gentle - have been changed over years of frustration and stress, leaving him with a permanent scowl and glare that most find offputting.
His clothing consists of basic garments; jeans that are generally well worn and shirts to match. Darker colors are dominant in his simple wardrobe. Almost always seen wearing some form of long jacket to cover his arms and the markings there from trials long forgotten.
Where there once sat longer hair, now sits a medium crop of straight brown, hanging just enough to brush his sideburns and part of his cropped beard.
NAME: Hunter Madson
AGE: Appears 35
FAIRYTALE INSPIRATION: The Huntsman
GENDER: Male
PERSONALITY:
At one time, The Huntsman was a kind and caring soul, jovial and wild, that was quick to make friends and even befriend his enemies. Only growing serious when the need arose, the towering man was a gentle giant and a stone-face protector all in one.
Now, Hunter is a deadly serious individual that is quick to snap in anger and burn white hot in continuous rage. Deep down, behind the mask of spite, there still lays the man that cares about his fellow person, but that man has been pushed aside for the simple reason of survival. In his line of work, these attitudes are only magnified.
No longer one to keep friends or hold onto trust, he has alienated himself and drifts from place to place alone, yearning for companionship as much as he forces it away.
STRENGTHS:
Strength of the Protector:
Hunter hasn't strayed far from the one skill he's always been good at. He wields almost inhuman strength from years of hard work and training.
Cunning of the Predator:
From years of studying his environments and becoming a part of them, Hunter has developed an almost animalistic talent for movement. Be it forest or an urban environment, the man always knows the best spots for an escape... or an attack.
Watchful Eyes:
Since he was a young boy, Hunter has always been able to find what he seeks. It may take time and great effort, but he WILL find what he's looking for.
FAULTS:
Rage of the Beast:
Always quick to anger, the Huntsman's rage has only grown over the years, changing and corrupting him into the person he is today. Quicker to react to his rage than ever before, the man's inner fire is nothing but a poison in his day to day life.
Distrust of the Lost:
Years of pushing away others has lead the man to distrust almost everyone to a fault. Many things in his life could have gone more smoothly, and still could, if he would just accept the help of another. His trust is hard to earn and even harder to keep.
Hopelessness of the Fallen
Since his fall from the status of 'hero' so long ago, Hunter's outlook on all things good and hopeful has dimmed considerably. Where he once saw the hope in all situations and the drive to continue, there now lies only spite and pessimism.
Hunter began his life like many other common-folk of the time - struggling. Born into a home with no wealth, the boy grew quick into a man, doing all he could to help support his family as they in-turn supported him. Despite their lack of riches, they never once went hungry, living in a forest thick with wildlife of all sorts. His father, a great trapper and forager, taught the boy all he knew about the forest and game within. Such teachings had forged the boy into a great man.
After the passing of his parents to disease, Hunter decided to travel, using his talents of survival to keep healthy from place to place, and in turn, making quite the name for himself among the kingdoms. Everywhere he went, he forged friendships with all sorts from beggars to royals, but never stayed in once place for long - the young man always looking for the next adventure.
In his travels, he began doing odd jobs for those he met - anything from a companion through dangerous forests or other terrain to a night watch over farms. His reputation grew and, in turn, people began calling him The Huntsman. To his surprise, he found himself recognized in kingdoms far from his home before he ever arrived. The word he did grew as well, bringing in jobs from royalty. It seemed even kings and queens needed the help of a man with such talents. He was turning into a great and well known protector of all things good... or so it seemed.
One evening, on a simple job of watching an old woman's cabin, Hunter woke to hear screams and combat from within! He jolted to his feet and, upon bursting through the door, was greeted with a beast so fearsome, it's reputation almost preceded his own! The Great Wolf.
Behind The Wolf's monstrous form lay a woodsman - axe as broken as his own form - and the cabin's owner, an old woman, that had been struck down in a bloody heap as well. Following the stains of blood, Hunter looked to the corner to see a shivering ball of crimson cloth, a cloak covering a woman that still lived!
Roaring, the giant of a man leapt at the monster, sword drawn, and attacked with everything he had. The battle went on and on, both sides taking many a blow and suffering much bloodshed.
Soon, everything was quiet again, The Great Wolf unconscious but still living. Wiping black blood from his brow, The Huntsman set about cutting the creature open and, in a stroke of genius, filled its belly with large stones from outside the cabin. Sewing the wound shut, he dragged the heavy beast to the swamp behind the cabin and, with a few quietly-spoken words of prayer, rolled him in to drown.
The battle was over, but the usual cheers of victory were replaced with cries of sorrow. He stayed, for a time, to try and console the woman called 'Red', but eventually drifted away. The experience had left him haunted and changed, cursed with the sudden realization that he was NOT a protector, but a mercenary. A killer for hire. In all battles of his past, despite the victories, there had always been loss. He had, however, been too caught up in his own sense of adventure to see it.
With is spirit broken and his outlook changed, The Huntsman vanished into the mists of time.
Rumors about him surfaced for ages, but eventually ceased as the world changed and he changed with it. He watched from afar as the world turned dark, all things magical and bright being replaced. He adapted to the changes, surviving as he always had, but never did he forget the things that haunted him about the old world.
PAST
The One Who Cried Wolf
Hunter was lost.
The path before him was not the issue, he had walked it and hunted upon it many times in his youth. This day, however, he paid little mind to where his footfalls fell and to the surrounding landmarks, walking on muscle memory alone as he strayed other paths in his mind.
He knew, of course, that death was a natural part of life - that was one of his father's first lessons he'd given Hunter as a boy - but the way that his parents had perished hung about him like a black cloud. Sickness at their age was one thing, but what they had suffered through was entirely another.
"Stop it, Hunter," he said aloud, scolding himself and steeling his emotions as he brought his thoughts back to the task as hand looking up to meet the gathering dark of the forest. The air had chilled considerably and a ghostly mist was settling across the earth, waving thing way and that as he crept through it.
A scuffle snapped him further to attention and, he turned to head toward it. Someone or something was bounding through the woods in a panic. Quickening his pace, he caught up with the noise, only to find a young woman being chased by a large wolf. "Get down!" he shouted, drawing an arrow quickly and letting it fly.
It hit with a thump and yelp, the creature landing hard and sliding across the cold earth before scrambling toward him, eyes full of pain and fury. Cursing, the man calmly pulled back a second arrow and released... this one finishing the job. He exhaled and relaxed a little, moving closer to the corpse of the wolf and leaning over it. He uttered a quiet prayer and stood heading toward the woman clad in red.
"Miss... are you alright?"
PRESENT
Hunter For Hire
"I'm getting tired of this game, Marley," came a quip from behind one of the pieces of scattered furniture strewn about the basement of the abandoned apartment complex Joseph Marley called home. The impromptu owner of the place snarled at the words and spat onto the ground.
"You're going to have to come out some time, fucker, if you want to get this poor girlie away from me," the wiry male snapped, clutches tightening around the shoulders of his captor - a just-past-teenage lass clad in dingy white shorts and a t-shirt depicting some weird logo of a store. The girl sobbed defeatedly, casting glances downward now and again at the gun tucked in the waistband of the junkie's trousers. "I have half a mind to just drag her outta' here, long as you're taking."
"Fine, I'm coming out. Just keep that piece tucked away and we can discuss this like gentlemen, alright?" came the reply. Finally, the owner of the voice stepped into view, brushing a bit of grime from his grey jacket as he made a cautious approach. Looking over the other male and the girl, Hunter gave a sigh and took in his surroundings. They were far from ideal, moreso than the usual buildings he found himself in, but the taller male hadn't gotten much of a say in the matter when Marley had tugged the lass with him... right into familiar territory.
"Nancy," Hunter started, looking right at the girl and ignoring her captor for a moment. "My name's Hunter and your family sent me. Joey and I are gonna' have a little chat and this will all be over before you know it." He smiled a little, but there wasn't much sincerity behind it. In reality, he was getting more and more on edge by the second, but he didn't want to risk having the junkie blow the girl's head off in a fit of stupid.
Talk about a ruined paycheck.
"Don't call me fuckin' Joey, asshole!" the skeleton of a man screeched, pointing a finger at him at first, then reaching down towards his pants. "Ain't nobody called me that since I was a kid and I'm not gonna' have that shit spreadin' around cause some cop started it!"
Hunter sighed and rubbed his brow. "First off, I'm not a cop. Where the hell'd you get that from? And second, mind keeping your hands to yourself and off your crotch for a minute so we can talk this out? I don't like guns and if you keep reaching for that, I'm gonna' get nervous."
Marley laughed, a shrill and annoying sound that Hunter grit his teeth against. "Oh, the big bad man don't like guns?!" he snarled, quickly tugging the piece free and waving it around like a maniac before pointing it at him. "And just what. Do. You. Plan. To. Do. Huh, peckerhead?"
In a flash, the man in the grey jacket rushed the other and, shoved both him and his captive to the side, sending the both of them reeling. Before the smaller man could react, Hunter had the gun and twisted it around. His eyes were slits of rage as he brought the gun down onto Joe Marley's right hand four times.
"I. Don't. Like. Guns," he stated with every strike, punctuating the blows with his words.
Leaving the man on the ground writhing and sobbing, Hunter got back up and helped the girl to her feet, pulling her toward the door as she began stammering a series of thank yous through sobs, hands grasping at him and seeking comfort as he led her toward his car.
"Cut the shit, lass, and compose yourself. Fer' God's sake, you're acting like an idiot," he snapped and shot her a glare as he opened up the passenger side door of his beaten up Buick. "I'm not here to play hero, I'm here to get you back to your parents and get a paycheck. This isn't a damned fairy tale so buck up and stifle it. Plenty of tears to be shed when you meet up with the folks again..."
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