Name: Karen Winter Appearance: Including a number of scars. Several of her fingers appear to have been broken and re-set semi incorrectly. If she's seen with a tank-top, or a without a shirt (either unlikely) a scar can been found under her left clavicle. A knife scar on either side of her left hand. Skills: Karen has been at this a couple years, but she didn't have any help in the very beginning. That hardened her body and skills a lot. Her pain tolerance is insanely high, because of torture she has suffered. She has extensive notes on everything she has come across. Before she was a hunter she had an eclectic knowledge of random things, sort of a jack-of-trades. Not afraid to use people's assumptions against them. Sometimes Karen will sketch and you can see a bit of who she used to be when she does art. Equipment: Large Medkit A silver knife. Cross necklace, it was Tessa's, it reminds Karen that God isn't going to protect her she has to protect herself. Hand gun w/assorted bullets 2 Shotguns (one sawed off) Her car, a ragged beat up VW Bug. Back seat is converted to hide her tools. A normal tool chest, partially for working on the car, partially for handy-ness Anti-vamp kit Anti-werewolf kit Bag of costumes and identities. How you became a hunter: A few years ago Karen's friend Tessa went missing. Her and Lucille went looking after Tessa. Lucille didn't survive the encounter with the skinwalkers that had killed Tessa. One of the skinwalkers Karen ended up killing was wearing her skin. She hasn't looked back since, knowing full well her family buried someone that wasn't her. Gender: Female Age: 28 Personality: Karen was once a happy college girl. Studying art. After Tessa went missing she was scared. The decision to go look for her was primarily her's and so she blames herself for Lucille's death. She still retains a sharp wit and extreme sarcasm. Karen is great at dead panning that sarcasm. Bio: Karen had a fairly normal life with no clue about the supernatural until disappearances started happening in her home town. Her friend Tessa's brother went missing. It was at Karen's suggestion, after the police turned out useless for Tessa to investigate the last place her brother had been seen, a hotel outside of town. When Tessa didn't come back Karen and Lucy went after her. Karen only survived because two hunters showed up and killed the skinwalkers that had her cuffed to a pole torturing her. Lucy had had her lung punctured and died shortly after their rescue because she refused medical attention. Since then Karen has been hunting. She learned a bit from the two hunters who had saved her, and then went on her own way, despite their protests. Other Information: If it's cold out she limps slightly.

Name: Jason, "Edge" Appearance: Standing at 6'2", Jason looks pretty normal for a late-middle aged man. Graying hair, wears a lot of nice looking suits, smart shoes, well groomed, and looks generally pleasant enough for a guy who seems to be in his late forties or mid fifties. But, there are certain... Abnormalities. For one, despite his age, he's built like a brick shit house, all dense muscle all over, like he's spent his entire life fighting- Mostly because he has. He's absolutely riddled with scars from various things, though not so many as to suggest he doesn't know how to duck, and he has his share of tattoos- Most for decoration, but he does have an anti-possession symbol tattooed on his left shoulder, and a demon trap on his left palm. Silver-grey eyes bore into what ever he might be looking at at any given moment, shooting off an air of experience, often described as if he's looking through people, rather than at them. Skills: Jason has been at the game for a very long time- And as such, he's picked up the skills that work best for him in his hunting. He's never been one for the new-age things, possessing only a basic knowledge of computers and phones- Enough to know how to research something online and check his voicemail, essentially. However, the more classic skills are abundant with him- Up close and personal combat, tracking, staying inconspicuous in a town or city- And, a massive knowledge of lore on all things supernatural, gained from long years of hunting and killing pretty much everything commonly seen. He's a good shot with rifles and handguns, though certainly not the best. And of course, there's the skill that got him his nickname of "Edge". It's near impossible to find him without a trio of knives on his person, and if he goes somewhere -knowing- what he'll be facing, one is almost certain to find him carrying a sword of the appropriate type- Iron for ghosts, silver for the plethora of things silver is useful on, and good old steel against men- Also the three kinds of knife he'll always carry. Equipment: As stated, he practically always has three knives on his person- Iron, steel, and silver. He drives a fairly recent model pickup with a covered bed- In which he stores all of his -other- tools. Swords, rifles, pistols, holy water, a few bags of various commonly-used spell and alchemy ingredients. A devils trap is etched into the bed, as well as the roof of the cabin, just in cast he ever gets stuck dealing with demons. His blades, of course, are his favorite weapons- Each blessed in half a dozen different ways, regularly treated in holy oil, and covered in all kinds of runes made for all kinds of beasties. And of course, bullets of iron and silver for every make and model of gun in the truckbed as well. Reason for Hunting: Jason started hunting young- Very young. Unlike some, he didn't get thrown into the world through some grand tragedy. No, he was raised into the trade, one of those unfortunate youth who never had a chance of a normal life. Through the constant travel and practice helping his father, he picked up the skills and knowledge necessary to start- And grabbed the rest as he went. So far, he's considered himself lucky... After all, not many hunters grow old. His father and uncle certainly didn't. Age: 52 Personality: Jason is, generally, a decent man. He likes to help people, and when in the company of 'normals', as he calls them around other hunters, he takes on the persona of your average cheery grandfather. But, around hunters, he doesn't bother with charades. While he still remains well mannered and generally friendly, he maintains the healthy levels of suspicion and bluntness required to survive the job, never beating around the bush, and making absolutely certain people know where they stand with him at all times. Bio: As said, Jason was born and raised into the Hunter life. He is, by definition, a bastard- Never knowing his mother, and never bothering to ask about her, either. He was an only child, and where his father went, he went. Most of his first seven years were spent in daycares, or spending most of his time with his uncle- A 'retired' hunter, or at least as retired as a hunter could be. He helped with monster research, looked up old lore, spent a lot of time in libraries, practiced the skills he would need once he was old enough to get in on the hunting. Once he did reach the age where his father felt he was able to handle himself in the field work, he spent all of his time on the road, handling job after job with his father, from ghosts to witches to wendigos and werewolves, and everything in between. Of course, inevitably, he eventually wound up on his own- A story he's not overly fond of talking about. His father pissed off the wrong vampire nest, and wound up torn limb from limb and buried under concrete, never afforded a proper hunter's funeral. His uncle went soon after- Though his death was mundane and civilian... Death by drunk driver, hitting him as he rolled his wheelchair across the street to buy himself some coffee. He, at least, was given a proper funeral. Ever since, Jason has worked mainly on his own, taking help where it was needed and offered from time to time, staying in contact with the hunter community, but generally keeping to himself. Other Info: The color blue gives him a headache, and he carries a seemingly endless supply of those funny little strawberry candies that seem to only be available to old people, as if they can only be bought in some secret old people club. You know. The ones you get at great grandmas house. Wrapped in strawberry patterned foil.