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THE BASICS

NAME: Logan de Scotia. Sometimes referred to as the Red Hawk. 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. SPECIES: Human (Witcher) - enhanced through magic and potions GENDER Male GROUP/ALLEGIANCE: Monster Hunter for contract hire KEY TRAITS: Suspicious, Distant, Focused, Disciplined, Gruff, Hunter SUGGESTED PB: Clive Standen KNOWN LANGUAGES: Scottish Gaelic, English, some minor knowledge of Latin, Celtic Gaelic and Gaelic, can also read Runes however this takes him some work and he is not fluent in this, however he is working on improving this particular area. OTHER NOTES: Often speaks with a very strong Scottish accent colouring his speech, and will use local pronunciation – What becomes whit, to will become tae etc. He also uses lass/lassie or lad depending on gender quite regularly. He does enjoy Scottish drinking songs and will become insulted rapidly if you offer him a drink of alcohol and then claim that it is better than Scotch. CLASS: Warrior/Bounty Hunter EYE COLOUR: Gold-Brown HAIR COLOUR: Brown HEIGHT: 6ft BUILD: Athletic DISTINGUISHING MARKS/OR SCARS: Due to his life style of monster hunting Logan has numerous scars littering his body, including a rather deep scar on his right shoulder extending onto his neck which are clearly visible above the edge of most his clothing.

DESCRIPTION
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.

THE PERSONALITY
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. CHARACTER STRENGTHS:    Focused Will stand up for the underdog and fight against oppression if it triggers his moral compass. Very loyal to his employers however.

CHARACTER FLAWS:      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

ABILITIES AND SKILLS
SUPERNATURAL 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:  Faster Reflexes than what would be given to a normal human,  Slower Aging - this has allowed him to live an extended period and seen him through many situations. On the downside it means he's also seen a lot of the death, destruction and general stupidity of humanity.  Particularly good night vision  He is also far more resilient than a normal human  Fairly immune to most diseases and has a stronger resistance to toxins  Despite all this he isn't immortal, over time he will eventually die as have many others. He can also be killed if he's overwhelmed by numbers, takes on someone stronger than he can manage and numerous other methods. 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. The medallion he carries - not so much a skill as an item. It vibrates in the presence of monsters who are masquerading as humans. The stronger the vibration the greater threat they are.

PHYSICAL ABILITIES:  His weapon set may seem archaic to some humans - a sword made of silver that is far more efficient at handling monsters and a longer sword that is utilised in the rare times he has to attack a human - not times he enjoys, but still none the less they happen. He must handle himself if he gets attacked after all. He tends to be better at moving fast then fighting it out against someone who can hit stronger than him He is light on his feet.

 

PHYSICAL FLAWS:     He isn't so good at opponents that are going to require him to 'duke it out' against them. He's also infertile; due to the enhancements he's been given. You have to win some to lose some. The scar on his right shoulder sometimes hinders his motion though this is more the arm he'd hold an object like a torch in. He can also be killed. It is harder than someone who isn't enhanced but should he make an error of judgement, get overly cocky or simply make a mistake it is very possible to kill him.

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. This attack was covered up and put as the Massacre of Glencoe in the 1600s. 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.

RP SAMPLES
**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.

**Actual RP Sample** He could feel the vibration of the medallion against his chest, almost echoing the feeling of a desperately beating heart. Yes. They were close. He held the silver blade in preparation as he moved through an empty crypt. Before entering he’d taken chance to drink a potion he’d hastily concocted. It would enhance his night vision further, allowing him to see even in pitch black spaces. Now he was glad he had. There was already blood on his blade from an earlier battle. The remains of ghouls lain on the path behind him. However where there were one or two ghouls there were normally more. Or worst. The medallion alone indicated there were certainly more, however it wasn’t necessarily the ghouls he was after. It was what was lurking deeper within the crypt. With rumours of devil worship, of human sacrifice and dark magic he’d been dispatched to find the cause. Rumours also spoke of a vampire. He’d come prepared regardless. No matter what was the problem he figured that he’d handle it and then be gone, no one needed to know of his presence after all. Still even he had to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the site that met him as he rounded the corner. It certainly explained the amulets constant rapid insistent vibrations at least. He’d come across a group of ghouls intent on decimating a corpse, the walls cast red in the fiery torches and the scene was as if he had stepped into the very pits of hell itself. His eyes darted about as he sought to judge the best course of action. At least until he heard more grunting and slavering growls behind him. That decided his course as he moved to take on those coming behind him, his blade making quick work with the element of surprise on his side. It was then he moved forward trying to catch the rest of the foul beasts off guard while they were still intent on the corpse and not on him. He was already expecting a bitter bloody battle. No need to lose his advantage of surprise while he was at it. Indeed it would be easier to take them while they were off guard and not aware of the threat. Swiftly he moved in the first falling to his blade before it even had chance to grunt. Then the battle began in earnest as the ghouls gave yammering cries of fear and surprise starting to counter attack. He had to grunt as a stronger attack came from nowhere. He hadn’t realised an Alghoul was present. Just as quickly though he was amending his own strategy to counter this new threat, focusing on wiping out the stronger being before it could cause further damage to him. His teeth barred into a feral snarl his eyes shining in the battle lust that had overtaken him without any need for any of his potions beyond that which had given his enhanced vision a needed boost. He glanced to the throne set in a recess behind the altar that he’d only just noticed. Even he had to stare in almost horror as he realised this wasn’t going to be any normal vampire. That there was an ancient vampire there. This battle was going to be harder fought than even he hoped. He was almost relieved that it hadn’t come to join the fray. Why he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was cocky. Maybe it was sure his minions would finish him off. Either way he needed to get these lower beasts dealt with. Then and only then could he afford to focus on the vampire that was more than likely behind these attacks, and the missing humans. His only cause of sadness was that he was unable to bring back those who had disappeared alive. He knew that they would have been killed, or become minions for the fiend themselves. There was no known way of lifting the vampires curse. The only cure was death. It was a sad truth, but one that was a truth. Maybe in the future one would be developed, but now the kindest thing was to kill them. To prevent them suffering any further misery.

**RP SAMPLE 2** "Chan eil mi a' dèanamh càil!" the scottish gaelic had escaped before even he was aware. At least until his mind gave him the mental rewind and nudge at what he'd just managed to do. Then he was backpedalling mentally to get himself back into 'state' to work. Logan couldn't help the slight smirk that showed briefly even as he spoke a smooth lie "Oh I'm sorry, I must have become lost," a flicker as his eyes set on the clip on badge, "Micah," he finished once he'd got the name. "I'm here tae visit... a work colleague and well," no point revealing that he knew he wasn't fully human, unaware that the other knew the truth. He was keeping his whole attitude calm, in control, unflustered by this... strange situation. He'd had enough time on this job to know that you give nothing away, even less if you were unsure. So instead he was regarding intently, that hunters gaze having lost none of its strength for his apparent standing down. "Maybe you could help me with where to go, I was told that it was around here somewhere," another blatant lie. He'd been planning on just walking until he found where he needed to be. If he was honest this was far more interesting though. Silently he adjusted where his medallion was sat, hoping to quieten down it's vibration by placing it against his skin beneath his clothing. While a useful tool he also knew there was a chance he'd get recognised by that. It would depend on whom he'd killed mind, or how much attention had been paid to the motif. He had roughly understood the Irish. It had been a language he'd picked up easily in his free time, and he himself spoke strong Scottish Gaelic. Just it was something he rarely had the option to use any more. He'd never met someone else who could speak the language. "By the way. If this is a private suite... and I'll assume ye weren't taking her tae surgery or anything... whit were ye doin' in here?" here he was really gripping at what few straws of knowledge that he had about more modern facilities. Which were what he'd gleaned from reading books and records and trying to use computers with little success. He was also unaware he'd grown progressively more noticeably scottish as he'd continued speaking. It was an accent he'd all but forgotten he could take on. ((Tae Whit Chan eil mi a' dèanamh càil! - I'm not doing anything! (Best I could find for him))) **RP SAMPLE 3** Logan wasn’t often one to visit hospitals. He didn’t particularly... enjoy them. He didn’t like how they smelt to him. The stink of death, dying and the overwhelming smell of disinfectant to hide these smells and present a sterile environment; he was unaware that the stink of death and the dying was one his own mind was adding in from experience. Add the white sterile surroundings and it did not make him feel particularly happy or comfortable. Indeed he felt far more out of place here then he did in any other location. However it would seem he’d been sent here to explore, and to give a sense of being somewhat human back to him. He himself had long since turned his own back on what little was left to class him as such. However while he was uncomfortable here a past case had taught him that you could find beings of the otherworld in all types of places. He’d also heard of a potential source of information that was in danger of dying. With nothing more than a name he’d so far managed to slip in, this may have been helped by the purposefully placed slice he’d inflicted on himself on his right cheek. Nothing too deep realistically but it had been enough to provide himself with a piece of bloody fabric to make the wound look far worst, even as the shallow slice was already knitting itself back together. By now it was at the point where he didn’t even need to keep the bloody pad of fabric pressed against it, just a to What

faint

red

slice

against

his

skin.

Still it had done its job. It had got him into the hospital. Now to find the source; of course he had no idea where he was going, and had no clue who to ask. He didn’t know if the person had any relatives or... a partner, or if they’d visited. So he couldn’t pull that stunt. As thus he was just walking managing to make it look like he somewhat knew where he was going, and what he was doing. However even he wasn’t without his methods of telling something was unusual. He could feel the low level vibration. His head tilted a frown showing. He licked his lips anxiously as he ascertained how crowded the area was. He’d somehow managed to persuade them to allow him to keep his weapon, telling some story that they were false. That didn’t mean he wanted a fight in such a crowded area. Still. He couldn’t risk not investigating this supernatural happening. He glanced about waiting for a lull in the number of people walking along the corridor before silently he eased the door open moving to an area he knew would be an immediate blind spot. Now was the time to observe. He was watching what was happening intently. When he saw no ill had happened an eyebrow arched. That... was a new one on him. His hand eased away from the hilt of the silver blade he carried at his back as he kept up his silent regard of the other, arms folded now as if waiting for them to notice him.