Character InformationName: Alexander Colt
Date of birth: 4/1/79
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Hometown: Pinedale, WY
Religion: Christian
Profession: Hunter- both mundane and supernatural things, SWORD employee
Theme song: Run Through the Jungle- CCR
Physical Description Race / Ethnicity: Anglo-American
Weight: 180
Height: 6’2”
Hairstyle and color: Right now, medium-short and worn how ever it dries after he brushes it when it’s wet. Sandy blonde-brown.
Eye color: Blue
Physical build: Tall, athletically built, but definitely not willowy. Looks like he’s been doing farm chores or other manual labor most of his life (because he has!), and has the muscle tone to show for it.
Identifying Markings: Various and sundry scars from hunting and farm work, and a tattoo one his right shoulder that Alan dared him to get when he turned 18- Alan got one too, because Alex dared him right back. It’s of barbed-wire and goes all the way around his arm and it seemed like a good idea at the time. He thinks it’s perhaps a bit tacky, but it’s there and he’s used to it and there’s more important things to worry about.
Portrayed by: Paul Walker
Image of character: Picture!Medical HistoryNumerous injuries ranging from serious to minor, both from supernatural hunting and game hunting and just living a lot of his young life outdoors, which he mostly did by choice. His right leg was once broken getting kicked by one of his parents’ horses. It’s not the only time he’s broken a bone, but it’s one of the only times it wasn’t hunting-related.
EducationGraduated highschool, but no college
Languages (spoken, written) English, limited German
Skill Strengths: He has the wilderness survival skills of a kid who grew up in a family of game hunters… kind of like a boy scout, but with more years of practice. He can light fires, make rope, track, shoot his own food, and basically be self-sufficient for a good long while if he has to. He has excellent aim with a variety of guns, though by far he’s best with the ones his family kept around. Finally, he’s adept at making do with what he has- he has some good old-fashioned Yankee ingenuity going for him. He has very good eyesight.
Skill Weaknesses: Alex isn't great with technology, certainly not in a techno-geekery kind of way. Non-working electronics of any kind drive him right up a wall and he’s broken many a cellphone just because it stopped working and he chucked it at a wall- and he believes that almost anything that clanks, clonks, or makes other annoying sounds can be fixed with a well-placed kick, smack, or punch. He’s also a country boy and made easily uncomfortable by big cities and/or places where way too much is going on at once. He gets sensory overload surprisingly easy for a hunter. He’s not very good at hand-to-hand combat. The job at SWORD is rough on him, and he drinks a little too much as a result.
Personality Strengths: He’s strong on his own, and it doesn’t bother him being alone so much these days. When he trusts you, he’ll do anything for you, pretty much, and he’s a very low-stress kind of guy. It’s easy to be at ease around him because he very much gives the impression of being at ease almost anywhere, and he has a soft-spoken sort of nature.
Personality Weaknesses: Working as a part of a team is a bit of a novelty for Alex. When he first started working for SWORD he was known to go wandering off to do what he thought was best mid-mission, but they pretty quickly broke him of that. While he doesn’t go wandering off to do his own thing anymore, he’s definitely not quite used to working as a team still. He doesn’t really ever let people get too very close to him, because he’d just rather not, and so he does sometimes come across as a little bit aloof at worst or… evasive or shallow at best. He is not known to be forthcoming about much of anything, preferring to do everything himself if he can help it, which can make him a seriously frustrating pain in the butt to deal with. However, he’s a wretched liar, so if you can corner him and ask yes or no questions, he’s liable to spill the beans- even if he won’t be very /happy/ about it. He’s grown jaded over the years, although he’d call his pessimism “realism”, if anyone accused him of it.
Interests: Whittling, rock climbing, horse riding… he’ll try almost any outdoor active activity at least once, and he’ll probably like it. He has a knack for playing penny whistle, of all things.
What makes you happy?: New camping gear, especially if it’s super high tech and light or otherwise makes his life easier, hunting for fun- like deer or pronghorn or some wild creature he can make use of rather than just burning, and that doesn’t want to kill him, chilling in the mountains by his parents’ ranch or fishing in the river that runs through their property, talking to his parents on the phone or getting a letter from them, and finding some quiet, out of the way corner to fiddle around on his whistle.
What scares the crap out of you? He’s from wide open sky country, and does not deal well at all with enclosed skylines and enclosed spaces. Big cities freak him out, too. This guy definitely needs his breathing space.
History / BackgroundAlex is from the Colt family. Yes, the Colts of THE Colt, although he didn’t know about any of that until he was 16. He lived a pretty average country life until he was 16, went to the small schools in town with his brother, and if his mom or his dad went “out of town” often and came back looking a little worse for wear, well, they didn’t talk about it, and he was raised to respect his elders and just not ask. They used to take he and his brother out hunting deer or bear or pronghorn or whatever else they were allowed, teaching them all the wilderness survival skills they’d need in case they ever got stuck out on a hunt and had to take care of themselves for a few days.
He had a younger brother for 16 years. His brother was two years younger than him and they both ran with the same circle of friends, it being a small Wyoming town with not so very many schools, where pretty much everyone knew about everyone else and most of the kids hung out together. When they got old enough, their parents used to send them out into the woods or the plains to hunt for the weekend, or while they were away hunting as well- though he later found out they were not hunting antelope. When he turned 16 and they told him about his family’s history, he was taken aback but found he wasn’t terribly surprised, since he’d kind of started wondering when he realized that even the bears he and his brother occasionally hunted had never once injured them quite as spectacularly as his parents sometimes ended up after one of their “hunts”. He, of course, told his brother, because he’s rotten at keeping secrets and Alan was always too good at wheedling what few secrets he could keep out of him anyway.
But really, it didn’t change things much. His parents wouldn’t let them help them hunt, even if they’d let them clean guns and check med-kits and help them get ready for them, or even do research if they were busy. So mostly the boys carried on much as they had, naively thinking that the supernatural world had nothing to do with their little town and little valley.
Then they were proven wrong. They were out on a weekend hunt in the mountains, and while they were always careful and watched for things like grizzly bear and moose, they never realized they were being hunted by something else until it came tearing out of the trees, bowling them both over before they could react. At first Alex thought it was an angry moose, because it had massive antlers and stood taller than any elk ever could, but then it stood up. He got a good look at it- long-armed, deer-like head but with teeth too sharp for any normal beast, and hands with long, sharp claws. It picked him up and chucked him into a tree before he could grab his gun and shoot it, and he saw it turn to his brother before he blacked out.
When he woke up, it was well into evening and he initially thought he was alone, no sign of the thing that had charged he and his brother in the middle of their elk hunt. He almost thought he’d imagined it until his eyes fell on an uneven crumpled
something at the base of a tree, and realized he recognized the camouflage hunting clothes he and his brother favored for their trips. He crawled across to the tree with a couple of broken ribs and what he was later told was a concussion but which he thought was just a headache, and found that he was way too late. His brother’s body was already cold, his neck broken from being hurled into the tree, the breath long gone from his lungs. It was his parents who found them both, him still curled up as if to keep his sleeping brother warm against the cool Wyoming air.
His parents also didn’t know what had come after them, and by the time they got the story out of him, it was long gone, though they did go out and look for it, as grief-stricken as their son. Alex finished highschool, mostly because Alan would have been pissed off if he’d given up with mere months to go, but he gave up any notions of going to college to join his parents hunting, and in his spare hours tried to track down what had taken his best friend in the world from him. He didn’t keep up with any of his high school friends, because they’d been Alan’s too, and he couldn’t deal with the looks they gave him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. No matter what anyone told him, he figured he should’ve been watching out for their surroundings, and he should’ve seen the monster- or at least been the one with the broken neck, and not Alan. He hunted for years and years and never got over it, and never stopped looking for whatever it’d been, with no help whatsoever. It was his fault he’d not seen the creature, so it was his job to find it and kill it- not his parents’, not a hunting partners’, nothing.
And then he started seeing Alan’s ghost. He thought he was going insane, at first, but no, no, his brother’s ghost was definitely following him around. Haunting him. Not… doing anything, really, just… following him around, showing up every once in awhile, sometimes not even staying for thirty seconds before he’d fade out again. This did not help his mental state.
But he finally exhausted any leads at all, and was forced to abandon the mission for awhile until something else should come up, and it wasn’t for three years after he’d been unable to find the thing that an organization approached him offering information. In return, he’d put his skills to good use doing what he’d already been doing, hunting down supernatural things and killing them, and he was alright with that.
They gave him just enough information to keep him working for them, but he never grew any closer to finding the thing, not that he could tell. Every time he grew frustrated and threatened to quit, however, someone would talk him down, bring him back, feed him some more information. He took to drinking, because it made coping with what he was doing, all of it, just a little easier, and he didn’t have to think of inconvenient questions when he was drunk or hungover. As long as it didn’t affect his job, SWORD didn’t seem to care.
He works primarily as a tracker and sniper for SWORD. While other hunters with better fighting abilities go in and take down whatever they’ve been tracking, he sits on a roof or up a tree or on a hill somewhere and has his sniper rifle trained on the quarry. That way, if things go south, he can always shoot whatever they’re after and, if he can’t kill it, the idea is that it’ll at least get distracted enough for his co-workers to finish what they started. At first, he tried asking subtle questions here and there about what went on after they caught what they were after, but was basically told to sit up in his nest and do his job and be quiet. Essentially, “Ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies.” And he’s actually alright with that, because though not being able to do anything frustrates him to the point of drink some days, it makes the job easier if he just doesn’t think about it too much. When he does think about it, he has his suspicions, and none of them are good. Since SWORD is the only lead he has on what killed his brother, he’d just as soon not have to deal with the moral quandary of needing their information while knowing without a doubt he’s doing something he’d judge to be immoral. Until he knows for certain, he’s perfectly capable of shrugging off his intuition about the whole thing, so he keeps it that way.
How and why you became a Hunter His family has been in the business for generations, literally. He was raised hunting mundane game animals, which taught him the marksmanship and tracking and other skills he’d later need to find supernatural creatures, and he probably would have taken up the business eventually anyway, because it was easy, there were good guys and there were bad guys, and you didn’t have to deal in greys and questions, and he liked that it was simple and straightforward. After his brother was killed, he took to hunting with a vengeance- quite literally, seeking vengeance on whatever had killed his brother, and taking out anything that got in the way or distracted him or caused others the pain he had to deal with. He prefers to just not think about his brother’s ghost, because it’s not hurting anyone and SWORD would not take kindly if they knew about him, and… quite frankly it’s nice seeing him once in awhile, even if he’s not all there. Alex is lonely, because he’s never let anyone get close to him since his brother died, and the occasional conversations over the phone or through letters with his parents don’t come anywhere close filling the void that’s there.
Hunting specialties (anything you’re particularly familiar with and good at killing): No, not really, but he’s got a little more experience with ghosts than he knows what to do with
Hunter contacts (anyone important you know?): Bobby Singer, but since he grew up in a hunter family, he knows a lot of folks by name, if not personally.
Hunter assets (what’s in the arsenal in the trunk of your car?): He has probably more guns than he knows what to do with (yeah right, he’d say, as if that’d ever happen) including a sniper rifle, a shotgun, two pistols, and an old top break Smith and Wesson that he thought looked cool when he bought it and that his parents promptly (and only half-jokingly) forbade him from bringing into the house on account of it was, in fact, a Smith and Wesson. For some reason he’s never fathomed, they really have something against that manufacturer, though really any of the others. And the car itself is a 1970 Chevy Blazer, black, that his parents used as a farm truck before they gave it to him.
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