Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2013 15:28:22 GMT -5
Play-By: Clive Standen
*Name: Logan de Scotia/Red Hawk/Cùr Rua
*Age: Hard to judge however looks in his 30s, actually 154 years old. He can easily live a good few centuries unless he’s killed first.
*Gender: Male (Infertile)
*Race: Human - Enhanced through Magic and Herbs cast on him
Location:
Guild:
*Class(es): Warrior, Hunter
*Appearance:
Standing at 6ft tall Logan is a man who looks rough and ragged. His hair which is brown is slightly wavy and falls in layers to his shoulders. His Golden brown eyes are almost immediately noticeable by light of the pupil that contracts and dilates rather more akin to cats eyes, this is one of many enhancements that was done to him to enable him and facilitate his job, as they give him a superior night vision. His eyes also give him a certain predatorial look that he often utilises to assist him in his job, even more so when he feels the need to get information.
While his build could be described as athletic it is in no means or way ‘weedy’ or thin. Indeed he has an athletic build in the form of one that would suit a warrior. For that is what he is. A warrior, one that has been fighting for some time against the monsters that would otherwise hunt and destroy all humanity. This fighting however has left its marks on the man. He often has a certain worn down look when he isn’t focused on something, and deep in his eyes there is a sense of tiredness, and even on occasion doubt.
Often keeping himself clean shaven there are times however when he allows stubble to form. It is even rarer that he grows a beard, though in the past this was more of a common occurrence. You can also often see the numerous scars that litter his form when they extend above the neckline of his garb. He also has a scar that cuts into his right eyebrow just where brow meets nose, not that this prevents him from giving an intent frown. Often you can read his moods through his eyes and his brow. A slight twitch means he disapproves, a more intent gaze means he’s focused on his task and you can guarantee if he is watching you with head lowered just his eyes observing that he is assigning you mentally to whether you are a friend or a foe. It is rare that he shows much through his lips, a smile if he finds something amusing, a smirk if he’s sure or believes you’re lying, pursed lips when he’s focused or angered.
One constant item that is present is the medallion, shaped in the form of a crucifix with a Red Kite swooping down to land talons already grazing the cross piece. The other constant is the swords that he carries on his back. The hilt to the left is a steel blade, made to be used only against humans that may threaten him. The hilt to the right is for the silver blade. One forged and blessed and enchanted to be a blade capable of slaughtering the monsters that he faces against whenever he’s on a contract. The rest of his garb however has altered through the years.
Where once in the highlands he would have worn a fur pelt as cloak for warmth, trousers and boots, or a kilt, he now rarely wears such. More common it is to see him in a leather Jerkin, with or without sleeves – depending on his armour beneath – trousers and boots. If he’s on a more peaceful mission he will tend to use a leather jerkin without sleeves and wear a shirt beneath this. Not that he’s ever without the bracers on his forearms, or the swords – their scabbards fitted to a harness that allows him to carry them on his back. He rarely if ever uses anything as a shield, preferring not to burden himself. It doesn’t suit his style of fighting, as he prefers to be able to move rapidly.
Very rarely you may see him bring out a leather long coat with a high collar, and high boots to match. This is more garb that you would see him utilise in a long distance travelling circumstance. He will also use that for when he must ride astride a horse – mainly due to the long split up the back that enables him to comfortably settle it and keep his legs dry against driving rain. He is an adept horse man, though it isn’t a side you get to see frequently, and if he was more settled it would be likely that he would keep his own horse.
If he has to appear at a more formal occasion he is more than capable of garbing himself in civilian wear. He tends to find a way of sneaking at least his silver sword with him – as he is confident in his abilities in a fist fight to handle humans, and to knock them out. However a supernatural is a different matter and he would rather not enter a fight with them unarmed. Normally in this situation the blade is worn at his hip to allow easy drawing should it be required. He tends to carry premixed potions on his person that allow him to enhance small parts of his already enhanced body. Nothing large, just for example to allow him to see even in the most pitch black of places without requiring a torch that could easily hinder him in a fight situation.
Regardless of the garb he’s wearing however unless he’s chosen to hide it the medallion always sits in plain view. He sees no reason to be ashamed of it, and in some ways he uses it as a warning. For at one point at least it was a noticeable sign. A warning to humans to not attack and a warning to the creatures of the night that would cause ill to a human. That there would be a chance of retaliation if that was the case.
If you do see him without clothes he is littered with scars across his body. These are normally in differing states of being healed. Indeed it’s usual to see him with a few new wounds. The oldest scars are by now a pale white in colour and almost faded into his skin tone, compared with newer scars that can be still quite noticeably reddened in colour until they too start to fade. One of the disturbing side effects of his enhancements is shallower cuts can appear to heal before your eyes. This is something he will use for his own advantage however. If he needs to get into an area to do with anything medical he will often inflict a shallow wound on his own face. Indeed he has a shallow scar on his right cheekbone from doing exactly that. He has no qualms about dissembling, or using any method needed really to get into a location. If that includes hurting himself so be it. In his line of work he does whatever’s required to cover his jobs needs.
*About:
I am the monster who hunts the monsters
Anti-social in part due to never fully trusting anyone other than those who he works for, and this is a temporary bond of trust. Some would describe him as a trained hunting hawk, hooded and far less dangerous around people due to the constraints placed on him however once he's given his job, once he knows his target? Then the hawk will fly without the hood to hunt down his target - namely those who threaten the peace or humans. He does possess a sarcastic sense of humour made rather dry and isn't afraid to be particularly blunt if it suits him. He does have a strong moral compass present that will not allow him to go against humans; this doesn't however make him an outright murderer of the non-humans. No sometimes he changes depending on the situation present and dreams of a world where there isn't any of this fighting.
However his many years of living have taught him one harsh fact. There will always be a need for people like him. People whom most people would count as freaks, as monsters. He has learnt through many years of hatred that it is best to keep himself to himself. To do his task and not get involved with such petty disputes or shows of dislike, he has grown used to the idea that he will not get much gratitude for the work he does. The second part can disappear around attractive females however, and on occasion even those of the male gender. Due to the fact the enhancements have made him infertile he sees no harm in sleeping around. He does have a stronger inclination towards males, but he isn't one to show that openly. Partly for fear of how his bosses might react, he knows that they don't own him, any further than the current contracts hold on him but still. He tries not to make himself known.
A wanderer he isn't one for settling down. In his view you never quite know where he's going to be needed next. No far more preferable to make allies, to get peoples gratitude and then disappear. To call upon this gratitude should he require their services to assist him in his work is always a useful advantage to have. Whether this is a place to sleep temporarily or a place to regroup with no one knowing where he is. Of course the offer of someone to warm the bed is always highly looked on in his eyes.
In short it would be easy to describe him as rather a lone wolf. He tends to prefer to be seen as a monster hunter for hire than working for any one organisation. Everyone else who he used to work alongside seem to be no more, leaving him as a sole lonely relic lost in time.
*Weaknesses/Fears:
• Distrustful
• Aloof
• Not the most tactful at times
• Sometimes will insult people without meaning to do so.
• His suspicious nature of those around him can also cause unintended insult
Fears becoming unneeded.
Weapons/Magic: Carries a Silver longsword that is his weapon of choice to fight those he's expected to kill. Also carries a Steel longsword, slightly longer than the silver one which is more used for if he does have to fight against humans. Does not possess any magic. Does possess a medallion in the form of a red kite coming to land on a crucifix that vibrates in the presence of danger.
History:
Orphaned as a result of fire caused by a minor war starting up
A fire was started at the edge of Logan's village by marauding bandits seeking to profit from the war. While all of Logan's family were killed he managed to escape by running out the back door. He couldn't save his family however. He was unaware that some of those who had attacked were none-humans. This was the last village of the Scotia clan.
Taken in by the order that became his world, underwent a number of trials to give him the mutations and skills required to become a monster hunter.
It is rumoured he was found under the protection of a Red Kite. Indeed he seemed to have gained some type of kinship with the powerful bird of prey for he could often use it to help find food for himself. Never the less he was wary of those who offered to take him in. He saw many of those others who started the trials with him die, or worst fall into a deep madness. However he was one of the lucky few to survive. His enhancements and training made him a dangerous monster hunter. It was around this time his particular way of watching everyone like a hawk and the bird of prey who he was seemingly guarded by earned him the nickname of the Red Hawk.
Seriously injured in a battle and forced to take an extended sleep to recover
Caught out in an ambush by numerous stronger demons he managed to fulfil his task. He protected a group of humans trying to flee from them. During this battle he was grievously injured and had to seek out a concealed location to meditate and allow his badly injured body to heal. For many years he was off the map until he was forced out of hiding by vivid hallucinations. He will state this hasn't helped his good looks but doesn't seem to stop him getting action in the bedroom department.
Unfortunate encounter in the bedroom department where a human tried to kill him upon being possessed by a demon. Was forced to kill the human and then fight the demon. Left with a deep scar on his right shoulder
Continued his work as a monster hunter. At some point or other has possibly met every type of monster he may have to face and kill.
It hasn't helped the numerous scars that litter his fighters frame. Nor has it helped particularly his rather distrustful nature of most around him. However he's dedicated to his cause and as long as he isn’t forced to do any work that will break his moral compass then he will continue working for who so ever hires him. After all mankind needs a protector. If this protector is to be a monster like him then so be it. Most of the others like him have either died or been killed. In part because of the policing of the supernatural world now he sometimes is left feeling like he's not wanted. Like he's a relic from a time forgotten.
Pets: None
---- Additional Info ---
ENHANCED ABILITIES
Logan's natural abilities have been enhanced through a mix of dark magic and potions, as part of the initiation process that occurred. These were done on him, however he has no clear recollection of the exact events that happened to cause these, and just that he survived the trials. These are as follows:
GENERAL SKILLS:
Has the knowledge to create his own potions to assist the enhancements his training and the trials that preceded his training, and to enhance them further in specific situations - these are limited time only however. These potions allow him to decrease recovery times and even adapt his night vision to see even in the darkest of places.
PHYSICAL ABILITIES:
PHYSICAL FLAWS:
Logan's OWN telling of his history
**Logan gives his own history**
I am Logan de Scotia, most know me as the Red Hawk or even Cùr Rua in a time that I fear is no more. I am a monster hunter for hire, a monster who hunts other monsters. I am currently in the employ of none, and the last of an old experiment that even now I fear is no longer needed. Once it was a time where I was sure that I would always be needed. However now? With the uneasy peace that seems to exist? Now I am less sure. Now I doubt my own use and it is a feeling I dislike.
I was born in a distant age to most people. In that time there were many wars between clans and between humans and non humans. When I was 10 years old my families village was attacked. We were the last surviving village of the once powerful Scotia tribe. A tribe that has been written out of history totally, as if we never existed. To protect the mortals from knowing what happened in truth. Well to be precise we were given a different name. We were just one of many villagers that were killed, and the time changed to fully hide what had truly happened. For as I was to discover later there had been supernatural elements involved.
I managed to flee into the night with only a pelt of fur for warmth and shoes on my feet. I managed to scrape by for a year. I’d learnt how to read a Red Kite and when to move in to help with a kill. Or to steal it. Either way I’d gained companionship with the great bird of prey, and if I managed to draw something down bigger than what I could feasibly eat myself I would share it with the bird. During the winters I’d found a crack in the cliff just large enough to hide in from the worst of the weather. Hunting was harder than – and the only way I could make water was to melt snow. It didn't taste nice however.
In the summer of the year following I grew curious at a group poking around the village remains. I’d seen them before in the winter. I’d even dared to steal from them. A simple knife to help hunt, even some bread while they slept. Now in the summer when I was at maximum strength I wanted to know who they were and I wanted to defend what was my home. I was unaware at this point that it would change my life forever. There seemed to be some amazement at my presence as I boldly walked in, the red kite circling overhead expecting food. I demanded to know what they were doing forgetting I was wearing the simple knife openly.
As I was grabbed I remember the Red Kites cry of anger as he’d swooped down slashing at exposed skin. He was killed after a struggle and I was taken back to a castle. I tried to escape many times. I wanted to kill them as well. At least until one day they came to me. Revealed the truth of what had happened and gave me a chance to gain my revenge. Maybe if I had known what I know today I would have refused and said no.
Before I could begin training I had to go through a series of trials. To even think of them still makes me shiver. My memory isn’t the clearest on what happened, but I saw many such trials once I was a full Monster Hunter. The rates of it not working were high. Indeed you were more likely to die than survive. Or be driven insane by the experience. Those that happened to were killed as rapidly as possible before they could become their own threat.
But I had become a Monster Hunter. I had become the monster who hunted the monsters. One of many, earning the right to carry blades that would assist me in my task. Possessing a medallion in the shape of a red kite wings outstretched gripping a crucifix that would vibrate in the presence of monsters. Having the skills and training to fight monsters, and to create potions that would enhance my abilities further should I need help to be on a level footing with them. Over time I gained the nickname Red Hawk or Cùr Rua. However despite my knowledge, and an almost legendary status, even I can make mistakes.
I came across a group of lesser demons chasing down a group of paupers. My training and moral compass insisted that I step in to defend them. They were only weak after all, I wouldn’t even need potions. I underestimated them. While I managed to successfully kill all of the scum the cost on my own body was great. Severely wounded – I’ll have to show you the scar sometime, it stretched down my front, thankfully certain parts weren’t injured – I had to seek shelter. I found it in a crack that as I wormed my way through I found entered into a secluded cave. A pool was in the centre and the area was lit where part of the roof had fallen in bringing the pool at least into light and a small patch of grass around it. These were details I paid no heed however as I allowed myself to fall into a deep meditative sleep.
I stayed in this status for a length of time I do not know. I have no standard recollection of the time passing in a meditating state that I was in – such that I use to allow me to heal myself. Something disturbed me but also triggered hallucinations. I ran from the enemies that haunted me in my sleep and was found by people of the group I belonged to. I was returned to the base to rest, and find out just what had happened to me. My wounds by this point had nearly healed and I was eager to return to the field and continue fighting. This happened in the autumn, I was finally deemed fit enough to return to my job. If I could find myself some work that is.
I chose to celebrate, heading into the town where I found myself a seemingly charming lady. We hit it off and returned to her room. This was where it all went wrong. I had just finished divesting clothing when something made me turn to face her. Maybe it was the feel of the medallion vibrating. Either way what faced me was a demon, again a lesser one but a demon none the less. She managed to get first strike due to my own shock, teeth sinking into my right shoulder. It was that which gave me the ‘jolt’ I needed. Allowing me to react on my training. I grabbed the silver sword slicing it straight through her gut even as I tore away, ripping flesh and muscle in the process. Both the Demon and the Human were dead.
Once I had once again recovered I was out on the job again. However as time passed by I came to realise I saw less and less of my old friends. They merely ceased to exist. By present times I cannot tell you if more still live other than me. Or if they have died in the field. What I do know however is no more have been made. Sometimes it feels like I only still live on as a relic. I do not know if I am still needed. But I focus on one thing. As long as there are monsters who would seek to harm mankind there will always be a need for a monster to dispatch of them.
