Taurl was a fairly average member of the Green Bone tribe, all things considered. Born as part of a litter of six children, he found that the life of a hunter suited him. It was a fairly simple existence: he tracked, stalked, and killed woodland creatures, then brought them back into the village. He used the meat for food, and traded the furs for what few possessions he needed. Of those few items, he used just two on a regular basis: his spear, and a loincloth. While he had a couple of changes of the latter, it was the only piece of clothing he bothered to use. Everything else was either unnecessary or was deemed a hindrance to his agile style of hunting.

He was a reasonably well-regarded figure in the village, especially since he had participated in a few raids and a handful of battles. He had won no great victories, scored only a single kill against a rival goblin tribe, and only had a couple of small scars on his chest to show for it all. As a mating prospect, he was often passed over in favor of the more seasoned warriors, although he was hardly hopeless when it came to finding a female. Most of his tribesmen called him "Ty" for short, as his name, pronounced "Ty-oar-ll" was hard to pronounce. When he asked his mother about it, she told him that it was one of a few names she hadn't already given to her earlier offspring. He was from her fifth litter, after all. 

Today, Ty was stalking a particularly tricky prey. Fastest of all the land animals he could hope to bring down alone, this vile creature was as wily as it was swift. More importantly, he was doing his tribe a favor by slaying the beast. It's kin had raided their food supply three times in the past month alone. Perhaps this would end their reign of terror.

"I'll get you today, damned rabbit."