[center] [b]- Name -[/b]
Jagred Degray

[b]- Appearance -[/b]
[url=http://postimg.org/image/fxyw5kjax/][img=http://s28.postimg.org/fxyw5kjax/da2_m_hawke_by_olivietta_d5fvr8d.jpg][/url]
Standing tall at 6’0’’, Jagred could’ve often pulled off an intimidating loom if not for his lanky stature and the tendency to slouch. Rarely seen without his thread-bare cloak, Jagred usually wears leather armor and boots while travelling, his weapons strapped to his back along with a small backpack for provisions. An archer by trade, he also had a thick leather gauntlet on his left arm, adorned with metal plates for deflecting blades and breaking jaws of enemies that wandered too close. On his belt usually hung a short sword on one side and a hatchet on the other, even though no one has actually seen he fought with it.

[b]- Personality -[/b] 
 At first glance, Jagred was surprising a normal guy, almost bordering on forgettable. He talks enough, drinks enough, smiles at all the appropriate times, and rarely, if ever, loses his temper. However, it is all part of his usual façade, the one he used to hide his distaste toward the people he has to deal with every day. Jagred one and true passion lies with hunting, and he cares for little else, sometimes not even his life. He makes a very good hunter though, determined and patient, with a healthy amount of bloodlust and a bit paranoia thrown in for good measure. As much as he relishes in the hunt, Jagred rarely went out of his way to either harm or kill. Those who were not his targets were often deemed unworthy of his attention, for better or worse. 

[b]- Excerpt -[/b] 
 It was raining again, fifth time this month. 

 The ground was muddy and littered with puddles, destroying any hope for footprints, but still, Jagred was certain that he was on the right track. There was only one place left Castair could’ve gone, the little bastard wouldn’t leave without his share of the loot. Though he didn’t think Cas would just take his share. No, he was too greedy for his own sake, and that gave Jagred just enough time to catch the scent. Bastard should’ve walked instead, since horses always left an absurd amount of traces. Guess he wasn’t as bright as they said, after all. Jagred half-smiled, his strides quickened.

 It was long before he could spot Castair’s distinct shape among the trees, crouching by a mound of dirt. Wordlessly, Jagred nocked an arrow, aimed, then fired. It hit its target with a fleshly thud, and soon enough, Castair’s six foot frame dropped to the ground. Jagred didn’t close in immediately though, he stood and watched for a few more minutes, as the shape convulsed and groaned. Only once the movements had stopped did Jagred leave the cover of the bushes. He found his ex-best friend lying in a heap on the ground, an arrow protruding from his back. All of sudden, the stench of blood was sickening, and Jagred felt as if he could empty his stomach on the ground any moment now. But he didn’t. There was no time for that. He came here to fulfill a task, and that was exactly what he was going to do. With further ado, he removed the hatchet from Castair’s belt, its familiar weight was unsually heavy in his hand. Funny how he would now use Castair's favorite weapon to kill him. 

 As he lifted the hatchet, he saw pale blue eyes watching, and bloodied lips stretched into a rueful smile. –“I’m sorry. Please…Hold still.”-He mumbled breathlessly, just as the hatchet fell, and he chanted again and again every time it did. Blood trickled through his fingers, its warmth already lost in the pouring rain.

 With the head safely wrapped in his cloak, Jagred turned around and walked back the way he came. The duke would be pleased. For now. Hopefully, that meant he could finally get an audience. The thought brought a smile to his lips, all white teeth and no humor. 
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