I decided that posting the full character description I gave Shadoweagle would be a dead giveaway - thus, here, comes a shorter version, told from the viewpoint of Coram.
"I was a difficult child, and rightfully so - where I come from children born out of wedlock are frowned upon, moreso if they are pale like ghosts with vividly red eyes. Not even the fact that grandfather, a smith, gave mmother a nice dowry helped her to bond with a nice man - my stepfather left much to be desired for, and so did my siblings, his blood spoke true in them and their character soon showed its true colors.
Only the fact that I was able to deal with animals well saved me from being cast out of home, let me tell you. Even today, I understand the mute faith in the eyes of a hound or sarcastic amusement in feline pools better than a rown upon a man's face.
Back then, I'd have given limb and soul to be able to play with the other kids, or for an honest embrace, even a firm handshake for work well done was denied me.
Where was my father? I still do not know. I hope to find him someday, better sooner than later.
This went on until one day, a stranger came to the hamlet I lived in - tall, mysterious, always smiling. He did not buy anything except for renting a room and eating well, and all he did was watch the people ... especially me, as it seemed. I might have been nine or so back then.
I was angry at him, more so every day. He even bribed my stepfather to be allowed to follow me around all day. All he did was stand there with that stupid grin of his.
I don't know what went on my mind, except for coal hot anger, but I tried to kill him, throwing a bucket full of ice at him. He might have brushed it aside with his hand, yet despite his warrior reflexes, the bucket dodged
. In mid-flight, I shaped my desire to see it in the midst of his face into reality... that was the first time I felt my talent. He went down, but did not stay so.
Next day, he bought me.
Yes, he bought me, for a pouch of gold. Even if it was dung, stepfather would have sold me too.
Not very delighted, I tried to kick him where it hurts, but ended up tied and hung over the saddle. After several failed attempts, I gave up and was finally allowed to ride on my own, untied.
After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at a castle gloomy and dark, that was to be my home for years to come. It was Tyr Crom, the fortress of the hunters, as I was to learn. My captor? Owner? My uncle, as he revealed himself, Jared, was one of them. Now, they were no hunters of stag, deer or thrill and easy women. Their prey arre demons that stalk the night, whether mostrous of appearance or in human form. That night, I was given the choice of becoming one of them, or lead an ordinary life. Looking back at the life I had, the decision grew within me - ordinary life was something for ordinary people, not for red-eyes white devils like me. I nodded in approval.
A hunter does not live by the sword alone, he thrives on books and arcane lore as well - my day was, for the first time in my life, filled with someone taking care of me ... or at least being in my presence and reacting to it. Many of the elders were distant, yet Jared was close, and my pillar of hope when all seemed lost, my abilities insufficient and the pain too great. Yes, pain. While I might have had tendencies to grow swiftly and grow tall, that was not enough.. The Order uses brews to speed up the development of its charges, at all takes a tall. Some do not live through the treatment, some become crippled. Some live.
I did, and grew to what you see today: tall and sinewy, with no body fat. I might look like a skeleton, but do not let that belie you.
Myhair I do keep long - vanity? Perhaps. It is certainly my only pleasant feature, white as snow and strong as steel wire.
I prefer to dress in leather, for it is durable, does not soak easily, and blood is simple to wipe off it. All those belts and buckles serve to give me a sense of security... I need them to feel alright.
To counteract the leather, and to keep my throat warm (my voice is rather rasping, deep and jhollow even without my throat being sore), I wear these scarves of mine. Red,one and all, softest wool.
Yes, I go armed, these are the tools of my trade. A long sword and a short one, a light crossbow, that's all I need.
And all those pouches? They hold the poison that keeps me going.
My companions always were few, for I do not cross the distance between people easily. No, I've never had a romantic interest. I wouldn't know how to step in a situation like that.
My steed Rowan, my hound Timber and Sunfire, my dear hawk, are my travelling companions. Watch out, she kicks. Yes, the dog does bite. No, the hawk is not used to being handled by anyone else than me.
I bite and kick for that matter too. Scared? *chuckle* I sleep lightly. Timber does not sleep at all, as far as my knowledge goes.
While I protect the common folk, I do so because they couldn't handle concepts such as 'unspeakeable utter evil from beyond time and space' without being reduced to gibbering wrecks. For that matter, they have problems handling concepts like 'using the latrine without s**tting all over yourself' as well. 'Thankfulness' is beyond them, honestly. You will have heard how in Clarond, they razed our castle and burned all us heretic witches inside during their holy revolution? Well, they burned an empty shell. No Hunter will ever step into Clarond since. Let them explain what they did to tentacle horrors intent on devouring their brains, not to us.
I am here to prove myself. Come along, or step aside.