[hider=Hunter Raine Provostus]
[center][color=slategray][h2]Raine Provostus[/h2][/color][img]https://i.imgur.com/M3qmBp3.jpg[/img]
[sub]6'7", 204 lbs.[/sub]

[u][b]Race[/b][/u]
[i]Hunter[/i]

[u][b]Faction Association[/b][/u]
[i]The Black Healing Church[/i]

[u][b]Appearance[/b][/u]
Hunter Provostus is a rather imposing individual. He stands at 6'7", making him much taller most humans, and usually retains a stoic expression. His limbs are also quite long - not excluding their digits - while still retaining a good deal of muscle. These features are largely due to his past closeness with beast-hood, which he no longer embraces, but must endure the physical alterations of. Provostus manages to maintain good hygiene, which is made apparent by his well-groomed hair and facial hair - the former of which he often greases back to keep out of the way. Said hair is a shade of dark brown - the same as his watchful eyes - and is only slightly less-dark than his facial hair. His air is more becoming of an older individual, but Hunter Provostus is still young at just under 30 years of age.
The Hunter's voice is deep and calm, even so in the heat of a fight - were one to hear him talk then.

[u][b]Clothing[/b][/u]
[hider=Raine Provostus' Hunt Garments][img]https://i.imgur.com/kPMLsGG.jpg[/img][/hider] Hunter Provostus finds himself clad in tough leather when amongst the more volatile inhabitants of Yharnam - so as to retain mobility while still softening blows as much as he can. Aside from the meek protections of the leather, he also dons steel shoulder and forearm plates - as well as a steel closed-helm, accompanied by a gorget of the same material.
Even in his clothes designed to be more comfortable, Hunter Provostus tends to keep his clothing thick in hide and dark in color - while valuing free range of movement - meaning he usually takes on leather as well. He keeps his color palette simple; brown, black, gray, etc, which can help to ensure he goes undetected, if he desires.
The Hunter tries to travel light as often as possible, but when there comes a need, he will carry a single-strap bag large enough to hold any trinkets required, alongside a decently heavy crossbow. The bag also has straps on its exterior to clasp other weapons and tools to. The pockets within the bag are well-padded, usually protecting any vials or fragile contents.

[u][b]Backstory[/b][/u]
[hider=Backstory]Hunter Provostus is not from Yharnam - he was once an outsider. Before his time in Yharnam, he hailed from a far off town, living a modest life alongside his parents, who were on the older side. However, an omen of misfortune struck the man who had been just twenty. He developed a foreboding sickness of the blood - one that would eventually kill him if not dealt with. After times of searching and coming up with frighteningly empty hands in terms of remedies, Provostus was seeming out of choices. However, in the family's worried search, they had come to discover a relatively distant town called [i]Yharnam[/i]. It was said to be a town of many medicaments.
Feeling as though there were no other option, he traveled to Yharnam, specifically to the Healing Church, and inquiried about a cure. He found that the Church could indeed heal him - but seeing as he could not afford the Blood Ministration monetarily, he had but one choice - servitude as something they called a "Hunter". Naturally, he signed the contract, and imbibed of the Church's blood.

Having adopted the ways of the hunter, Provostus served the Healing Church loyally and attentively for three and a half years. However, even though the Church had upheld its promise and healed him, not all was right. Now well-ingrained in the mindset of a hunter, Provostus recognized that he was far more beast than man. He began to wonder night after night what his parents would think of him if they saw what he had become. He wondered, really, what [i]had[/i] he become? A true beast? A false one? Just a killer? Something in between? 

Was he [i]meant[/i] to become a beast?

These thoughts were coursing through him [i]every night[/i] then, until [i]one night[/i] - the Night of the Blood Moon. This night, everything was plunged into bloodshed and gore. The Church was assaulted, beasts and others of their ilk roaming the streets of Yharnam, alongside blood-raged Hunters.
This was the night he would leave the Church.

He sought a form of shelter for his own, traveling to the East outskirts of Yharnam, where he knew the cobblestone would be less gore-stained. He fought his way there, where he would shield himself from the outside and rack his brain with question after question. Why was he so much like [i]them[/i]? Was it a mistake? [i]Fate[/i]?

A time of - well, he couldn't tell how long - passed. [i]Two months[/i]? Maybe. In this time, with what coherency he could muster, he discovered something he'd not known of even in his time with the Church. An organization, for lack of a better word, that was being called the [i]Harrow[/i] was amongst the streets of Yharnam.

Having discovered this Harrow and digging deeper, he found that they had [i]answers[/i] for his questions. So many answers he couldn't provide himself. Provostus joined them.

The answers the Harrow provided him seemed to quench his thirst for knowledge and embolden his thirst for bloodshed. He began to hunt with fervor once again - this time in ways akin to the beasts he hunted. His hands were his tools of death moreso than any blade. He hunted with the Harrow like a savage, disregarding the humanity of their targets entirely - consuming blood carelessly - without regard. This would persist for the entirety of two years, until one night he drew the blood of someone who's dying words reminded him all too much of his family far off. Hunched over his prey's body, with ragged breathing and blood dripping from his dagger-like nails, he heard a final weak shudder of breath escape them - the whisper of a name departing from their lips and striking the hunter in the gut like a sledgehammer.

"[i]Adelia..[/i]"

Provostus froze, his breathing stopping as he heard that name.
It was the same as his mother's.

He fell to his knees right there, the adrenaline draining from his body as he felt tears building up in his eyes - he could see his mother's face of horror in his mind as he imagined her seeing him knelt there over a bloody, torn body. He wept deeply, holding back howls as he mumbled to himself [i]over[/i] and [i]over[/i] what he was doing. What his family would see him as.

How long had it been since he had sent a letter to his mother? [i]Far too long[/i].

Provostus tore himself away from the cobblestone and ran. He stumbled and ran until he was beyond Yharnam's streets. He found shelter for himself, boarding himself away from the outside world and going into isolation. For more than a year.

When he finally emerged from isolation, he was no longer of the Harrow. His head was level - he was sane. When he emerged, he sought the Church's graces once again, hoping against all odds that they would accept him back into their enclave. Only to find that the Healing Church was but a portion of its former self, having lost a good deal of its facets - and eventually having split into two fragments: The White Healing Church and The Black Healing Church.

He came to find that only the Black Healing Church would accept his return - as the White was far more strict, far more prudent.

And so, Provostus returned to the Healing Church, even in its fragmented state - and has been with them now for another year.[/hider][/center]
[/hider]

I do believe I have everything here except for gear, [@Dark Jack], but I reckon that can be added on or just not included on the CS.