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Ida the Hunter

"I survive knowing the price of life."

0 · 371 views · located in The Bar

a character in “Monstrous Uncertainties”, as played by Alastairim

Description

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[Ida the Hunter]
human - female - thirty-three - hunter

Having lived in the village her entire life, Ida knows the struggles of the average person. She, at a young age, took the role of a hunter under her mother who disappeared during a hunt five years ago. Ida has come to accept it as a death and simply the way of the world. Things must die so others live, as she does every day during her hunts. While a quiet voice in town, she's highly respected. She has a dislike for merchants in general, finding them sneaky, like vultures that must scavenge under the work of others for their bread.

So begins...

Ida the Hunter's Story

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Character Portrait: Ida the Hunter Character Portrait: Ward Carwen
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Ida the Hunter


Ida followed the sun. As it rose this morning, she awoke like every day before it. Her body bounced into motion and set upon her daily tasks with a refined professionalism and solidarity in which she lived her life. With first light, the woman had ventured into the forest. Her traps were checked, collected and reset. She didn't stay to enjoy the calm morning in the wilderness. Instead she hung two dead rabbits over her shoulder and headed swiftly home.

Once returned to her shack at the edge of the village, Ida beheaded the catches and hung them by their feet on a post behind her home. The blood that drained from the carcasses pattered onto the dirt ground while Ida sharpened her knife a few feet away. With a practiced hand, Ida made quick work of the prey, flaying the fur first and setting it inside out into a cold hole of water dug a few feet out. With ease, she separated flesh from bone and sliced the meat into into thin strips. The meat and fur would be salted and hung out to dry within her shack. With that, her hunter tasks would be finished for the day. It was time to do her rounds.

Ida picked specific slices from the collection of meat that hung from her shack. They were arranged by both date salted and animal origin, although the former was much more important. These were the slices ready for market. Carefully she laid the slabs into a wicker-basket and covered them with a cloth before leaving her shack and heading for the church before the market.

Ida did not stop on her journey. Her eyes kept their stoney glare on her purpose and mind centred purely on the task at hand. Her determination often resulted in her ignoring anyone she passed by, as she did today. Ida only stopped when she entered the open doors of the church. Her muscular form, covered mostly in rags and leather, slowed near its door to stand before the first pew. It was as far as she liked to go. "Father Ward," Ida called flatly, "I've come to make sure you have enough to eat." She couldn't see the holy man in the current vicinity and avoided hunting humans for their presence. If he didn't answer, she would simply leave. After-all, the hunter hadn't come to bask in the glory of the church, nor in its god.

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Character Portrait: Ida the Hunter Character Portrait: Ward Carwen
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There were few distractions as he continued his read through, although somewhere around the second page he welcomed them. Educated or not, legal matters were a frightful bore, and he had to pause more than once to pray for strength and patience. The Lord's gifts were often temporary– strength required input from the self, which was an awful thing to discover for the tempted mind. God could only guide him in matters, but His belief in Ward was as strong as Ward's belief in Him. Ward had just finished reading through the last of the document when a voice called from the entrance of the church. The flat, disinterested tones could only belong to one person.

"Father Ward, I've come to make sure you have enough to eat."

He rose from his seat, brushing his robes out of habit as he stepped out into the main room of his workplace. He spotted her by the door, not willing to fully enter the holy grounds. "Ah, Ida," he said, an unpleasant smile growing across his face. Ida was one of Ward's failures, who had somehow failed to turn to God's embrace despite what happened to her mother some years back. Still, he had hope. "You grace me and the Lord with your gifts, and your presence, once again. Perhaps one day I shall be able to persuade you into staying for a confession? Your fellow villagers report an immense feeling of relief once they get their sins of their chests, as it were.

Having thus reached the doorstep of the church, he noted that the sun was higher on the sky. Soon he would have to ring the bell for the children. It was a pity Ida was without child– mothers worried for the soul of their young were always so much easier to turn. "Now, what have you brought for me, my dear?"

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Character Portrait: Ida the Hunter Character Portrait: Ward Carwen
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Ida the Hunter


Ida nodded slightly at Ward's arrival but kept the straight face she was known for. Then came another lecture about her attendance at the church and she couldn't help but mildly purse her lips. "I wear my sins on my skin, father, or on the skins I sell. It's as much as a confession as I need." Ida stated calmly while her hand pulled the beige cotton sheet from her basket. It revealed the withered, dry meat that lay packed in the basket. She carelessly threw the cotton over her shoulder to hang freely while her hand pulled other, thinner cotton strips that were stuffed into her belt.

"For today," Ida began as her calloused hands lifted a meat strip, "Salted rabbit. Should be enough for the next few days." Her eyes stuck to the her task as she layered the meat, piece by piece, onto a cloth patch that lay in her other hand. After one fourth of the basket had been pulled up, she wrapped up the parcel and offered it to the priest. The cotton was tight around the packed meat to avoid the flies that buzzed mindlessly in the summer air just outside the church. "While I'm here, do you need anything else? I need to go to the market soon but I can do more if somethings need to be done." She asked rather bluntly as her eyes moved to pace the church. They searched for anything in disrepair within the vicinity, like a crackled beam or hole in the roof.

The buzz of the town murmured in the background through the open doors. A few children giggled and ran past. The last tripped at the steps and thudded into the dirt with a whimper. They were maybe seven at best, nothing in which Ida was interested. She stared briefly at the child with a straight face before turning back to Ward.

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Character Portrait: Ida the Hunter Character Portrait: Ward Carwen
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"I wear my sins on my skin, father, or on the skins I sell. It's as much as a confession as I need."

"Aha, well," Ward tried his best to smile, fighting hard not to let his eyes to drift to the skin in question. "I do hope you know that the church and our Lord will be there for you all the same."

As Ida begin to fetch her wares, Ward stepped to the side, picking up a small basket he kept by the entrance. It was often used for surprise tithe payments, and was more than suitable to handle food. He was back in front of her by the time she began to speak.

"For today, salted rabbit. Should be enough for the next few days."

"Very kind of you, much too kind," Ward grinned, feeling his mouth water at the sight. He'd not yet eaten for the day– food dulled his senses, and he liked to keep a clear mind for teaching. Though he wouldn't admit to it, there was really no wonder he had such a skeletal, lanky structure. He accepted the parcel, placing it in his own basket and setting it aside.

"While I'm here, do you need anything else? I need to go to the market soon but I can do more if somethings need to be done."

Ward thought about it for a moment. "There's been some trouble with trouble with the door to the school room, if you'd like to have a look at it," he said. "The little angels keep slamming it whenever they pass through, the hinges are starting to come off the wall."

As if on cue, a child running past seemed to stumble, diving face-first into the dirt below. "Always in a hurry, bless their hearts," he said, but he couldn't hide a look of mild distain sneaking its way into his features.

He took a quick step past Ida, heaving the child up by their collar and brushing the dirt of their trousers.

"Torrance's son, isn't it? Not yet school age, I understand?"

The child gazed up on him with huge, tearful eyes– and a nose full of snot. As soon as his collar was free, he scampered across the field after his friends. Ward sighed, shrugging as he stepped back towards the church. Ungrateful demons, he thought. Despite his hope for the younger generation, a part of him couldn't wait for them to grow up to become proper Christians. Children so rarely had time for virtue.

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Character Portrait: Ida the Hunter Character Portrait: Ward Carwen
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Ida the Hunter


Ida watched the priest aid the child in her steady silence. Her attention wavered between watching the little show and the flies that mindlessly fluttered around the doors. One particularly willful fly drove itself into the door with a light thud before dropping onto the ground. Ida made an internal bet that the fly had simply been dazed instead of dead; however, that bet didn't come to fruition. The clumsy child had already disappeared into the field and Ward was headed back inside. She lead quickly onwards, into the church.

With a fast hand, she replaced the clothe cover on her basket before nearing the door of the schoolroom. It was well beaten from a life of juvenile torture with enough patterned scratches to almost count as some sort of literacy. Yet, it wasn't its ill shape that kept her mind. It was something else entirely different that she refused to speak on and tossed the thoughts to the depths of her consciousness. Instead she moved a free hand to wiggle the door open, which sunk as it hung loosely on its hinges. As her green eyes stared down the iron fastening, Ida stated with certainty, "This shouldn't take long."

First, the woman placed the basket on the ground beside her while still fixated on the issue. Her body then wedged itself against the opened door to prop it upwards as her hand skillfully retrieved her knife from around her hip. It's leather bindings fell comfortably into her grasp. Ensuring that the blunt butt-end of the blade was held forward, Ida hammered at the iron nails that stood a few centimetres out from the frame. With each thrust, Ida bludgeoned the nails back into the old wood as the strikes sounded through the church. It took a matter of minutes to correct all five nails but eventually they were flush with the frame - and some deeper as the end of her knife imprinted into the wood by her ambitious strikes. Letting go of the door, Ida stepped back to swing the door back and forth. It maintained its height as it opened more smoothly. The bottom of the door still dragged onto the lifted frame but it was minimal compared to its earlier position.

Ida nodded at her result and retook her basket. Her attention turned back onto the priest whom she nodded solemnly to. Her feet didn't wait for her words to strut back to the open exit, "If you need anything else, knock on my shack." About to leave the church, the hunter stopped briefly to add, "And don't leave a note again. You know I can't read." She didn't dare look back at the priest. Instead her eyes lingered on a dead fly that lay near the doors. Once she had his farewell, Ida left the church to motor back into the city to sell her goods. Her mind still focused on the ground before her with her mind burning solely with its next task.

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Character Portrait: Ida the Hunter Character Portrait: Ward Carwen
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Ward couldn't help but to study the determined face before him as Ida worked on the door. It was clear that she had something on her mind, but if she wouldn't accept the Lord's guidance through Ward, there was little he could do. Ward had always considered himself a man who enjoyed a challenge– but in truth he abhorred them. He liked solutions, revelled in the small rush of power that came with them. Ida, as far as he could see, was a problem without a solution. A strange girl, with a lot of pain inside. Of course he wasn't about to give up on her just because of a few setbacks. Regardless of what Ida might think of his faith, she was still good on the inside. Why else would she keep knocking on his door to give him food?

No, patience was the virtue needed in this situation. Meanwhile, he had other fish to fry.

"Thank you, once again," he said, once the door had been finished. He got up, following Ida to the entrance.

"If you need anything else, knock on my shack."

"Of course, and should you need anything in return, my doors are always open to the flock," he said.

"And don't leave a note again. You know I can't read."

He smiled once he was sure she couldn't see him, shaking his head. Perhaps Ida would have more interest in his schoolroom than his altar. Then, Ward had no experience with an uneducated life– and without no point of reference, he had no way of telling what it was like. On that thought, however, he was interrupted, as the children arrived for their lesson.

"Careful with that door, now, I've just had it fixed," he said, ruffling a few heads as they went by him him on their way into the church with a few "Good Morning Father" in passing. Soon he heard the schoolroom door slam as hard as ever, and he sighed, looking out on the field for any latecomers.

Hellbeasts. All of them.

The setting changes from The Church to The Bar

Setting

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Character Portrait: Lizette Myorti Character Portrait: Ida the Hunter Character Portrait: Miss
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Ida the Hunter


Ida nodded at the priest as her way of farewell before marching out of the open doors. As she stepped onto the dirt ground at its frame, a barrage of children came storming past her. Their little feet thudded against the soil while they parted around her like a stampede of beasts. Ida snorted in distain at their display of wildness before taking her leave from the premises. With her good deed done, it was time to make her income.

Her steady feet would take her to the market where a profitable venture would ensue. The recently arrived traveling merchant took his sweet time to analyze her wears while making comments - most of which Ida considered common for ignorant merchants whom thought they knew better. First he asked if it was bear and she glared at him. "Only if a bear looks, smells, and tastes like a rabbit." She countered. With some patience and blunt honesty, she convinced him of the ware quality and be obliged her price. With all her product sold, Ida headed back home to attend her drying meat.

As time changed and the sun set, Ida too followed its glorious ways and tracked her way back to bed. Her small shack was pitch black and the door blocked with a wooden beam. The hay mat covered in animal skins welcomed her body with its soft warm touch as the familiar smell of salted meat whisked her to sleep. Ida's day was over.


-----


TIME SKIP

    Another sun has set. The crickets chatter cut through the chilled air as they sing about the recent descend of night. In the sky, dark clouds rolled over the town as thunder bellowed in its mass. The sweet scent of rain consumed the air where the orange light of lanterns can hardly pierce. It is the first night.

    Now everyone can post however they wish: human and monsters alike. Some human character (like Ida) can be asleep for the night phase if they'd like. I'll be doing a time skip when I feel it's best.

    ALSO: It will rain tonight. I'll post when it starts to rain and all of us will accept that it's raining. Once it starts, it won't stop. cant'stopwon'tstop


Miss


The day had passed uneventfully for Miss as she tirelessly cleaned her Inn. The final dirt had been scratched out of the floor's crevasses by the time the witch sat lazily on a lounge chair near a rumbling fire. "Lizette," Miss groaned weakly from her throne. She waited a few brief moments before groaning louder, "Lizeeeeette." The crackling flame muttered as crickets chirped in the darkness outside. The cold air from the incoming storm front trickled under the cracks of the closed front door to send a chill down Miss's back. She didn't budge. In minutes she sat in silence until her red lips pipped up in surprise, "Oh right, she went to town. Well then, she must have seen something interesting." With a quick hop, the witch rose and headed for the door. Her thin, pale hands plucked a black cloak from a hook and whisked it to hang over her shoulders. Her other hand took up a lantern which she lit with a snap and carried it faithfully through the night, magically locking her door behind her. Miss was determined to see what had kept up her accomplice although more for her amusement than any worry for her companion. Demons were demons, after-all.

With some time and more magic, Miss appeared in town behind the church - she often like the risk associated with popping up in places she shouldn't be. But still with rushed feet, she shuffled out from the church plot and onto the streets with her free hand gripping tightly onto the clasp of her cloak. After asking around, she heard that her companion had gone to the bar and never left. Some had even discussed the rumour that she was a new employee. Miss was shocked. She couldn't imagine this act to be one of rebellion but it was unforeseen. Perhaps her apprentice had enough of magic spells and wanted to be part of the human world, but of course, Miss suspected other reasons too. She followed these reasons with a curious heart to come stumbling into the bar.

"Lizette," She cried with a mild smile, "What's this about a new job? Was the messenger bag getting too heavy?" The woman half-jeered as she arrived near the bar table.