07-04-2017, 10:19 PM
[justify]Tatiana's task for him had been to go out and hunt some stuff down; simple enough, he spent most of his time in the forest after all. He didn't have any experienced Grunts of Prey to hunt with, so he didn't bother looking for anybody to join him.
He tied his hair back; it'd gotten long, but he hadn't bothered to cut it. He used to be forced to cut his hair, back in prison; long hair got in the way. Only the girls were allowed to keep their hair long, and that's just because the upper ranks found it attractive.
He shook his head, clearing the thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to think of those fucks while he was working, it was bad enough those memories haunted his dreams. He was glad neither of his roommates bothered to ask what caused his frequent night terrors, he didn't want to explain it to either of them.
The Head Hunter trotted out of the city, his pace a slow jog that'd be easy to keep for the entire day. He'd check his traps first, and if any opportunities arose he'd take them.
He zoned out while he walked through the forest; the paths were so familiar to him, he knew them all by heart. The shadows crawling across the trees were comforting in a way. He liked the openness, the sheer size of the territory he could roam.
The city was much too enclosed to his liking, and much too crowded. Filled with all sorts of sympathetic souls; ugh, it made him fucking sick. He shouldn't have to feel pity for these people, for the people that willingly spend their time in a place like this.
He'd had no choice. He still had no choice. If Sel didn't kill him for bolting, Tatiana surely would. It was strange, that he'd somehow gained respect within the group he'd been forced to join.
He wondered if things would've been different; if he hadn't been captured, if he hadn't been raised to become a monster. Would he be raising a family by now? Would he still be as skilled as he was here? Or would he be dead, killed of like a fly?
It didn't matter anymore. Any sense of happiness he might've achieved had been burnt to a crisp alongside with the rest of his childhood.
He heard the rattling of old metal and let a small smile slip over his face. He leapt into action, darting towards the sound. Looks like his deer trap had caught something.
He saw the young buck freaking, his hind leg caught in the wire trap John had laid down. He was screaming an awful lot, and the sound wasn't exactly welcome. John didn't really care though, painful or not the deer was going to die and it didn't matter if it died terrified.
He drew his spear, careful to keep away from the flailing hooves and small rack of antlers as the deer screamed and panicked. He jabbed at it casually, inflicting small wounds in its hide. He kept going for about two hours, wearing down the animal until it eventually collapsed from blood loss.
It wasn't the prettiest way to kill something, and many would call him cruel for such a brutal method. He didn't fucking care; cruel or not, food was food and he wasn't breaking a rib trying to get close enough to fatally wound it while it was running around.
He strapped his spear to his back again, and grabbed the knife that'd been resting in a hidden sheath on his leg; ever since he'd gotten attacked and almost killed, he'd started carrying around more weapons. He approached from the back as the animal wheezed and bled, before driving the knife into its neck.
He stood back as it slowly died, already preparing to cut the antlers, hooves and head off; that was just extra weight that he didn't want to bother bringing back. He'd also skin it, and cut the meat up into chunks to make carrying it back easier.
It was dark out by the time John got back to the city, bulging bag filled with butchered meat slung over his shoulder lazily. His clothes were stained with dried blood from the work, and in the dark the cloaked man probably looked more menacing then he actually was.
Oh how much he'd grown from the angry, cowardly man he used to be.
//thIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE SO BIG BUT IDEK
//don't feel as if you have to match at all this was just me being museful[/justify]
He tied his hair back; it'd gotten long, but he hadn't bothered to cut it. He used to be forced to cut his hair, back in prison; long hair got in the way. Only the girls were allowed to keep their hair long, and that's just because the upper ranks found it attractive.
He shook his head, clearing the thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to think of those fucks while he was working, it was bad enough those memories haunted his dreams. He was glad neither of his roommates bothered to ask what caused his frequent night terrors, he didn't want to explain it to either of them.
The Head Hunter trotted out of the city, his pace a slow jog that'd be easy to keep for the entire day. He'd check his traps first, and if any opportunities arose he'd take them.
He zoned out while he walked through the forest; the paths were so familiar to him, he knew them all by heart. The shadows crawling across the trees were comforting in a way. He liked the openness, the sheer size of the territory he could roam.
The city was much too enclosed to his liking, and much too crowded. Filled with all sorts of sympathetic souls; ugh, it made him fucking sick. He shouldn't have to feel pity for these people, for the people that willingly spend their time in a place like this.
He'd had no choice. He still had no choice. If Sel didn't kill him for bolting, Tatiana surely would. It was strange, that he'd somehow gained respect within the group he'd been forced to join.
He wondered if things would've been different; if he hadn't been captured, if he hadn't been raised to become a monster. Would he be raising a family by now? Would he still be as skilled as he was here? Or would he be dead, killed of like a fly?
It didn't matter anymore. Any sense of happiness he might've achieved had been burnt to a crisp alongside with the rest of his childhood.
He heard the rattling of old metal and let a small smile slip over his face. He leapt into action, darting towards the sound. Looks like his deer trap had caught something.
He saw the young buck freaking, his hind leg caught in the wire trap John had laid down. He was screaming an awful lot, and the sound wasn't exactly welcome. John didn't really care though, painful or not the deer was going to die and it didn't matter if it died terrified.
He drew his spear, careful to keep away from the flailing hooves and small rack of antlers as the deer screamed and panicked. He jabbed at it casually, inflicting small wounds in its hide. He kept going for about two hours, wearing down the animal until it eventually collapsed from blood loss.
It wasn't the prettiest way to kill something, and many would call him cruel for such a brutal method. He didn't fucking care; cruel or not, food was food and he wasn't breaking a rib trying to get close enough to fatally wound it while it was running around.
He strapped his spear to his back again, and grabbed the knife that'd been resting in a hidden sheath on his leg; ever since he'd gotten attacked and almost killed, he'd started carrying around more weapons. He approached from the back as the animal wheezed and bled, before driving the knife into its neck.
He stood back as it slowly died, already preparing to cut the antlers, hooves and head off; that was just extra weight that he didn't want to bother bringing back. He'd also skin it, and cut the meat up into chunks to make carrying it back easier.
It was dark out by the time John got back to the city, bulging bag filled with butchered meat slung over his shoulder lazily. His clothes were stained with dried blood from the work, and in the dark the cloaked man probably looked more menacing then he actually was.
Oh how much he'd grown from the angry, cowardly man he used to be.
//thIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE SO BIG BUT IDEK
//don't feel as if you have to match at all this was just me being museful[/justify]
we're swimming with the sharks until we drown
we sure are in for a show tonight
ref - experienced hunter - 5'11 - he/him
ref - experienced hunter - 5'11 - he/him
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