Post by Hotah:tahatan on Jun 9, 2014 16:01:55 GMT
Name: Hotah:tahatan
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Tall, taller than most white individuals, as is normal for those of his kind, Hotah:tahatan possesses the natural tan of most of his power, and has a single black feather often woven into his hair. He has muscles built from hunting prey for his tribe, and knows many of the signs of animals in the area... and humans.
Strengths: Expert hunter, strong at tracking, can move quietly through the forests and leave few signs
Weaknesses: Overly passionate, very rash, blindly follows a cause to the end, is like a fish out of water in cities having never truly been exposed to them
Background: Hotah:tahatan was born to a native american tribe in the forests, his tribe a part of the Iroquois Confederacy, seeking to protect their lands from the colonisastion that was threatening them. Not that he knew this growing up, he played with the village boys, games of tag, hide and seek and even trying to prove their skills at finding items that others had hidden in the woods. All a part of teaching, of learning. As he grew older the games changed slightly. They involved climbing, running through the trees, using fallen trees as points to perch, to wait patiently for prey to pass underneath. Seeking eagle feathers from their nests and so much more.
It was when he was eighteen that he had his first encounter with a white male. One he noticed sneaking around the camp as he was hunting for supplies for the ceremony that would mean that himself, and the other village boys he grew up with would be counted as men. Able to fight as warriors against those seeking to steal their land. The first he realised there was more than one however was when another came behind him, grabbing his hair and yanking it back, his arms just as efficiently secured behind him. The man came with a warning, a message for the tribe. That the lands were to be brought from under them, and the village torched. He was knocked out and when he came to he found the white men gone. Silently he returned to his village with the supplies he had gathered, grateful his fellow individuals had collected more.
The ceremony went without hitch, and he became one of those frequently out hunting. He has constantly regretted the last hunt he went on. He came back, after a successful – if longer than anticipated hunt – to find what the white man had warned had come true. His tribe had been overwhelmed, the village on fire. Desperately he’d ran through the long houses hunting for his mother, there to see her die. It was with anger lighting in his soul he left his clan lands. He wanted revenge. He wanted to find those who had done such. He suspects it to be the one who had warned him of what was to happen. Though why he had been warned, he did not know. A tomahawk was left, the blade deep in the wood of a tree as a sign of the coming war
He left the village at the age of 24, travelling, relying on his skills as a hunter to bring enough food for himself to eat, and his knowledge of the rivers to find safe water to drink
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Tall, taller than most white individuals, as is normal for those of his kind, Hotah:tahatan possesses the natural tan of most of his power, and has a single black feather often woven into his hair. He has muscles built from hunting prey for his tribe, and knows many of the signs of animals in the area... and humans.
Strengths: Expert hunter, strong at tracking, can move quietly through the forests and leave few signs
Weaknesses: Overly passionate, very rash, blindly follows a cause to the end, is like a fish out of water in cities having never truly been exposed to them
Background: Hotah:tahatan was born to a native american tribe in the forests, his tribe a part of the Iroquois Confederacy, seeking to protect their lands from the colonisastion that was threatening them. Not that he knew this growing up, he played with the village boys, games of tag, hide and seek and even trying to prove their skills at finding items that others had hidden in the woods. All a part of teaching, of learning. As he grew older the games changed slightly. They involved climbing, running through the trees, using fallen trees as points to perch, to wait patiently for prey to pass underneath. Seeking eagle feathers from their nests and so much more.
It was when he was eighteen that he had his first encounter with a white male. One he noticed sneaking around the camp as he was hunting for supplies for the ceremony that would mean that himself, and the other village boys he grew up with would be counted as men. Able to fight as warriors against those seeking to steal their land. The first he realised there was more than one however was when another came behind him, grabbing his hair and yanking it back, his arms just as efficiently secured behind him. The man came with a warning, a message for the tribe. That the lands were to be brought from under them, and the village torched. He was knocked out and when he came to he found the white men gone. Silently he returned to his village with the supplies he had gathered, grateful his fellow individuals had collected more.
The ceremony went without hitch, and he became one of those frequently out hunting. He has constantly regretted the last hunt he went on. He came back, after a successful – if longer than anticipated hunt – to find what the white man had warned had come true. His tribe had been overwhelmed, the village on fire. Desperately he’d ran through the long houses hunting for his mother, there to see her die. It was with anger lighting in his soul he left his clan lands. He wanted revenge. He wanted to find those who had done such. He suspects it to be the one who had warned him of what was to happen. Though why he had been warned, he did not know. A tomahawk was left, the blade deep in the wood of a tree as a sign of the coming war
He left the village at the age of 24, travelling, relying on his skills as a hunter to bring enough food for himself to eat, and his knowledge of the rivers to find safe water to drink
