[hider=Redland Huntsmoor, the Troll] [u][b]Name:[/b][/u] Redland Huntsmoor [u][b]Age:[/b][/u] ??, 27 Human years [u][b]Sex:[/b][/u] Male [u][b]Race:[/b][/u] Troll, Changeling [u][b]Biome:[/b][/u] Undetermined [u][b]Sexuality:[/b][/u] No time for that! [u][b]Relationship Status:[/b][/u] Single [hr] [u][b]Height:[/b][/u] 7' 3" [u][b]Weight:[/b][/u] 190.37 kilograms [u][b]Hair:[/b][/u] Dark, the colour of burnt wood mostly. [u][b]Eyes:[/b][/u] Dark, with a thin yellow outline. [u][b]Skin Tone:[/b][/u] Extremely pale beneath the extremely hairy exterior. [u][b]Appearance:[/b][/u] [i]The only Troll that wears pants around here.[/i] Red or Hunts, as he is called, is a large, fur covered behemoth of a cryptid. Sometimes even larger than some of the other trolls in the reserve, owing to his lifestyle and plentiful welfare when he was Human that translated very well over when the enchantment broke. But this might not be for long as indicated by his dry, brittle fur and yellowing tusks from malnourishment. Human ways just don't go well with troll physiology. Learning to walk with this shape was a challenge and he had recently conquered using his hefty arms to bear half the weight of his broad upper body, not unlike a gorilla. It was awkward at first but not as awkward as watching the other trolls prance around au naturale, nothing ruins your day more than seeing a herd of trolls commune with their dongles swaying in the breeze. In terms of expression, Hunts has a leathery triangular nose to scrunch up when he is displeased. Two tusks jutting out from his lower jaw that frame his mirth, large and long pointy ears that twitch with caution at any sound and a set of determined eyes that shine reflectively in the dark. All on a fur laden face that started the whole 'werewolf in the woods' fiasco that landed him here in the first place. [u][b]Skills:[/b][/u] Quick Study: Hunts picks up skills he is interested in relatively quickly, perhaps it is inherited from his obsessively studious ancestors somewhere or a trait of simply having been raised in human society all this while. Technologist: No, he's not something as fancy as a Technomancer or what of the sorts. Hunts is just naturally savvy with machines because they are logical devices and even despite his amnesia about his human past, he still seems to get gadgets to work eventually when he spends enough time with them. Brute strength: This is just part and parcel of being a troll (and having a boulder as a door to his cave house). If you need something towed, lifted ...or choked. Hunts' the man-troll you're looking for. [hr] [u][b]Likes:[/b][/u] Cats (not as cuisine!), Herbs, devices from the Human world, experimenting, Human food, Rick, Malcolm (this one is questionable) [u][b]Dislikes:[/b][/u] dogs, loud noises, nature, cruelty, pranks, idiocy [hr] [u][b]Brief History:[/b][/u] Rick's parents brought Redland Huntsmoor to the reserve for rehabilitation, you see, the young man had only recently found out he was a troll. A Changeling, to be precise. These are troll or fey children who were left or stolen away to the Human world to safeguard them from the many conflicts of the fey realm, enchanted with a Human form till these children touched another of their own kind. But every act, even magical, has a price. Hunts lost much of his memory about the Human world after he made such a contact and was found by the ranger couple at the source of many 'werewolf sightings' that sparked a panic in a shanty town. He still has some of his past belongings, mainly a wallet filled with cards of the verifying sort. But without Rick's parents around to help him make sense of ...well, everything, he's kind of lost on how to go from here. [u][b]Your Story:[/b][/u] [b]"Maybe I can do the I---"[/b] [b]"I-In ..."[/b] Infirmary? Inside? In ... [b]"You know, the one where they stack boxes in a certain way!"[/b] The 7 foot tall, hairy mound of muscles gestured frantically as he clung unto imaginary crates with his dirt encrusted hands. [b]"In---"[/b] Insanity was about to touch him if he did not get the proper word off the tip of his tongue. Rick rolled her eyes, sipping her tea ever so slightly. "Inventory." [b]"YES!! THAT!"[/b] Redland exclaimed with joy, almost leaping into the air as he pointed at her. [b]"Inventory!"[/b] He sighed a breath of relief. It was almost comical how Hunts the troll, in no way matched his appearance when it came to behaviour, instead of moping around his cave like a proper grumpy monster should - he spent much of his time hanging out in the Lochpine's porch afterhours (the only place where he did not hit the ceiling) chatting the ranger and the fey that come by till his pressence became intolerable. "No. Everyone would see you." Rick shook her head, how many times must she tell him that he could not work in the store for such obvious reasons? Oh right. This was the eighth time today. She gave him a narrow eyed stare. [b]"Well, I'll be real quiet. Or you could tell that shopkeep I'm like wearing a costume. None will be the wiser!"[/b] He realized how dumb these ideas were but it did not stop him from trying, they were still better than being jobless or worse, living with other trolls. He turned to Rick once more after pondering at the empty lawn for a moment. [i][b]"If your parents were here, they'd know what to do."[/b][/i] Hunts did not mean to be blunt but it was ineluctable given his solitary existence here at the reserve, conversation was such a rare indulgence to him that he would forget the tact surrounding it's proccess sometimes, by the time he realized what he had done it might have been too late. [b]"I-I didn't mean to."[/b] "Forget it." [b]"They are out there, somewhere, I'm sure. Safe and sound!"[/b] Hunts' toothy expression sobered to a frown in the silence that ensued, planting his knuckles to the floor as he prepared to leave. He had overstayed his welcome once again. Dangit! [b]"But ...if you, just in case, ever want to go looking for them. I'll come with you or help anyway I can. [i]Just so you know.[/i]"[/b] He glanced at her one last time before carefully squeezing his way out the fence, disappearing into the cold misty night. [/hider]