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Common information

Official name: Hunter
Born Named: Aedan O'Connell
Sex: Male
Birth location: Airlund
Sexuality: Dunno

Current Age: Twenty-three

Residence: Cottage on the edge of (Will think of something)
Occupation: Hunter/skinner



Appearance

Physical Appearance:
Lithe is one of the main words to describe Hunter; of course another might just be lanky but then anyone calling him that won’t be for long. (Hint a kick in the gut) Hunter is a slightly tall youth who doesn’t show much muscle growth. At five foot seven, he could be called tall to some, and short to others. His skin is as pale as snow on the hills and his eyes green like spring grass; but it’s his hair that stands out. Bright red as the flame of the great halls fire. Hunter has never cut it since he was a child, his mother so proud she bore a fiery child would brush and tie his hair for him. Since her death he kept it long in memory of her; and it now reaches to his tailbone when not braided.

He has a rounded jaw, not long and not short, but it certainly isn’t chiseled. High cheek bones and a small, but slightly long nose; he is of average features. It’s his hair and eyes that set him apart from others; and even possibly his skin that has freckles dotting his shoulders just as red as his hair. He has long fingers, callused in a number of places from pulling a bowstring taunt to his cheek. When walking Hunter steps on the toes of his feet, his toes spreading out to keep him steady. He hardly wears shoes, claiming they stop his movement and cause too much noise. Yet he will wear them when in town or when visiting others if he must.

Commonly worn outfit:
A tunic tight to fit snug against him almost like a second skin. Fur trimming around the sleeves that go just above the crook of his elbow, and more fur around his collar. The fur in the summer is brown, and is commonly made from a rabbit or hare. The tunic itself is soft kid skin and dyed in a motley of greens and browns to help him match the woods and hills he hunts. He wears pants that are the same color scheme and material but no fur dons them. The shoes when worn are a simple kid skin leather often un-dyed and left brown.

Winter it’s another matter, long sleeves with thick white and black spotted fur; and a larger ruff of fur around his throat to help keep him warm. A hood is normally attached that can be put on or slung off so that he can see. Once more lined with fur on its edges if only to keep snow from falling in his eyes. Pants with fur along the bottom cuffs to help snow fall away from his legs; and boots. Tight and done with skin form a reindeer with its fur along the outside. It’s made to keep him warm but still done light enough he can move without much sound over the snow and ice. His winter gear is normally done up in pale browns and grays; and when the dye is possible done in white but that is a rare piece of gear and most often worn when needing to look flamboyant.



Personality


Chosen words: Happy, loose, wild, spit-fire, carefree

Summary of the bulk:
TBA

Biography
Born to a whole a large family; Hunter had his ups and downs for growing up. At a young age his father wanted him to learn sword; his mother wanted to tame him to read and write; but he took none of this. As soon as he could stand, Hunter was trying to run; to climb and explore every inch of a forest no one wanted him to be in. He spoke to magic people living deep in the woods; and the old stories of wolves always set his eyes alight.

Still his father wanted him to fight, and it was no smarter to force Hunter then taking a hammer to a mountain. You might chip it away, but that mountain would long be standing after you died. So it was Hunter would ditch his class; hide away and slink out after their end. Six brothers would shake their head and snap at him being weak for not fighting like a real man.

His mother wanted him to take up pens, to write and draw; and to read books of historians. This to Hunter ran from; and it galled his mother. He would come home covered in dirt or mud; leaves in his hair and some hound trailing after him like a pup; but his mother loved him. Out of all his brother, he was the only one born with the fire colored hair of his father, the others had gotten the tampered dirt brown of their mother. At three Hunter rode his pony as if born to it; and there was no stitch of clothing that didn’t have a grass stain.

At seven he knew every plant by name; ever animal by strands of the hair or fur; and knew just what time to fish for what fish. His mother had given up; waving her hands up that if he wanted to be a wild child let him. His father grew ever more tempered and at one point forced Hunter to fight to fight him. No one spoke of what happened, whispered that the father regretted trying to break the spirit of his son; but the truth, Hunter had bested him and the man was only saving his own rock hard pride.

Shortly after in one last attempt, Hunters father moved them to town; hoping this would damper his son. It didn’t, and as he explored the new woods he came away with something that only lightened it all over again. His companion, his other half, and just at the sight of the red statue he had known it was her he had searched for. On awakening Hunters father saw him and finally, like an old dog laying before a fire; the man gave up and gave his son a bow. From there things rushed forward, Hunter and Firethorn moved through the world both slow and fast; and at twenty three Hunter had his own home and trade; his own land; and his parents love an acceptance for who he was.