Last Post: May 16 2018, 12:35 AM
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On the tall side at about six feet in height, Clay is a narrowly built man. Though a far cry from bulky, he does possess a wiry, athletic sort of strength. He’s vain enough to stay fit, but not quite enough so to spend a lot of time hitting the weights. He is dark featured with deep hazel eyes and hair that ranges from dark to a lighter, sun bleached brown. Generally speaking, Clay is clean cut, usually maintaining a thin and neatly trimmed beard framing both mouth and jawline. His style of dress is usually casual, mostly consisting of jeans, t-shirts and hoodies.
Though articulate and cunning, Clay is generally a soft spoken man outside of familiar company. He is not particular disposed towards drawing attention to himself in large groups, preferring to simply be. Despite this, Clay is known among friends for upholding a persona of gentle smiles and easy laughs with a puckish, often times sarcastic sense of humor.
Beneath this outer layer, Clay is a remorseless hunter with no empathy for the werewolves he pursues. While it can honestly be said that he sees little good in the creatures, proof otherwise wouldn’t be apt to persuade him. Clay views mankind as having been given dominion over the earth, and consequently in his mind werewolves are there to be used for their gain like any other beast. He doesn’t operate out of any perception of doing the right thing; its more about pest control and profit. However, he is known to take a certain sadistic pleasure in tormenting and taunting the wolves he captures.
Without any close family to speak of, Clay is primarily driven by self-interest and financial gain. Despite his calm and manipulative façade, he is something of a coward at heart. Clay isn’t the sort to put himself in danger for the sake of most others, and under duress there are precious few he wouldn’t consider turning on for his own gain.
For coming out of a family of werewolf hunters, Clay had a moderately normal childhood. He grew up on a large tract of acreage in a small, rural town. For the early art of his life, Clay was oblivious to the existence of wolves; he grew up roaming the woodlands without much supervision. His father wasn’t neglectful by any means, but he spent most of the days sleeping; and as long as he kept out of trouble, Clay was allowed to do pretty much whatever he wanted around the property.
He was not quite nine years old when he became privy to the existence of werewolves, and his family involvement in the trade of hunting them. Only a year later, Clay’s father took him hunting for the first time; and he killed his first wolf three or four outings later. Perhaps it was the early introduction to bloodshed responsible for his lack of empathy for the creatures, but Clay has never felt any remorse for the lives he’s taken – no more so than when killing a deer, at any rate.
It was his uncle that initially turned him onto the trade of live capturing wolves and pitting them against one another in life or death fights. This appealed to Clay for a number of reasons, the first being that hunting in and of itself was difficult work with little monetary reward… and the second being the sheer, primal excitement of watching powerful beasts locked in brutal struggle. He eventually took over the underground ring, which caters primarily to independent hunters and the rare individual who knows of their existence – usually people who’ve lost loved ones to the beasts. For the past few years, Clay has been operating in the northwestern region of Oregon whilst residing in Silverbrook where he runs a small electrical and hvac company.