Related image



Name: Dax Steele


Species: Ailuranthrope


Sub-Species: Tiger- Ailuranthrope.


Pack: No pack… Looking.


Sexuality Bisexual


Romances: None


Occupation: Hunter for hire. Demons, humans, anything for a price




6″ 5,  very muscular.

Short black hair

Fair-tanned skin.



Fully grown male, strong. Roughly 660 lbs

Pure white fur with thick black stripes.

Blue eyes


Abilities and Powers

Dax has had no formal training in any magical arts and so all of his abilities come from his being an ailuranthrope. They are far stronger than the average human, being that they have the power of the beast behind them. They’re also much faster for the same reason. Unique to his being a Tiger, his senses of smell and hearing are heightened to extreme levels. His soul is as adaptable as the beat he hosts.

Dax heals at an elevated rate to the far higher cell regeneration that all were-beasts possess. An ability unique to Dax is his ability to consume the power of others. By consuming the souls of his targets, he gains some of their power in return. It is not a straight transfer, though the more powerful the being, the more he can gain.


Early Years...

Dax’s parents were both Ailuranthropes, though he had never met them. For reasons unknown, the family was split up at birth. Dax ended up in Denmark, further north than most of the modern settlements. He was a baby when he first arrived, extremely lucky to have been taken in. The wise-woman of the village ‘adopted’ him as her own, she would raise him until he was old enough to join the hunting parties. As a result, his childhood is filled with memories of creating medicines, learning how to live off of the land. Vital life lessons, though he wouldn’t realise just how important.

It is roughly at the teenage years that they take you and begin training you to hunt down the creatures of the snow. Dax’s first trip was horrible, placed on the back of a sled and taken miles away from the village.  On the way, they would kill smaller creatures, rabbits, foxes and such. They had no intention of fishing, but they needed to gather food. They were out for hours before they spotted the creature they wanted, a polar bear. It was deep winter and so it wasn’t uncommon to see them this far south. Dax obviously didn’t do anything, he had so far only taken down three rabbits and a fox, a polar bear was a big step up. He watched as they charged the beast down, it took longer than expected. Constant throwing of spears and firing of arrows, being sure to collect each one before continuing on. It took an hour to bring it down in the end, fifteen minutes more to load it up and it was dark before they got back to the village. Everyone left their huts to come and greet the hunters, he had never felt such a feeling of belonging.

For years, he would continue to go hunting and hone his skills. For many years, he would not know his true self. This would change however, one night shortly after he reached his twentieth birthday. He was in a hut, sharing it with his adopted family, sleeping. He had violent thrashing dreams, dreams of the hunt, of chasing after his prey and tearing them to the ground. His mind was filled with images of blood and adrenaline, though he would be violently pulled from it. His eyes burst open to see three of his friends holding spears at his neck. They explained how he had turned in the night and tore through the hut, sprinting out into the ice fields. He tore down a polar bear and dragged the carcass back to the village, though snarled and bit at anyone who came near him. It was lucky that his turning had been witnessed, they knew that he was of the people. The people did their best to help him train to control his ability, for in his alternate form he could do alone, the work of several hunters in a fraction of the time. He was their best hunting asset.

A relationship flourished between the town and him, he hunted and they gave him a higher percentage of all food to replenish the energy used in hunting. Doing this made him incredibly fit, it also had the effect of keeping him in his Tiger form the majority of the time and as a result, began finding it more comfortable to remain in what he considered his ‘true form.’  Of course, there were many villages in the ice fields, sometimes clashes would occur. Due to the expertise of hunting their village had just discovered, they traded considerably less than before and as a result, other villages grew to despise them. And so his life in the village would be brought to a swift and sudden end.

He caught a fox, not too far from the village. He smelt burning. He turned back to his home and saw bellowing black smoke. He turned and charged back as quickly as possible, arriving in moments to see that they had been raided while the hunting parties were away. He swiped and attacked the invaders but the damage had been done, even when they retreated, the few that weren’t chased down by Dax, too few remained to restart the village. Moreover, with the death of all his friends and family, he didn’t want to simply restart. Though these thoughts were stopped quickly. Something sharp in his stomach, he looked down, a blow dart of some kind… Black.

The exact amount of time he was out is uncertain, though he awoke in a very different place.  A room, dark though his enhanced vision meant he could see the people hiding in the shadows. Things become real simple when your life is on the line and you've nothing to live for- Work for these people, or die? He joined, of course. He was hired for the additional senses he possessed. You can hide from bounty hunters, you can’t hide from a sniffer-dog…. Sniffer-tiger. 


Later Life...

Time passed, years, decades, perhaps more than that. The crime organisation he worked for grew in reknown and as a result, he found himself always occupied. His skills as a hunter were honed as time passed, his apathy also grew. One contract instructs you to kill this human female, the next says kille this male vampire, the next says locate this demon... They become words on a page, meaningless, means to a pay-check. This was simply the way of things... Until he met her... 

She was his target. A vampire that needed removing, some slayers in London wimped out or something. Dax is proficient, he tracked her down all the way to her flat. She was ancient though so she wasn't stupid, she wasn't there. He chased her trail, like cat and mouse he was on her tail and she was one step ahead all the time. Along the way, he learned about her, her past and her present. Never learn about your targets, sympathy clouds your vision. 

Three years and two continents later, he got her. It turned out that she had learned a lot about him as well, trying to lose him but discovered that nothing could shake him, she gave up. They spoke, they fucked, they ran together. Dax leaves out the details, but something caused them to go on the run together from the syndicate, they were free. For the first time in countless years, he belonged. And then they snatched it away.

They send every agent they possessed after them and to be fair, they got close but they could never quite catch them. In the end though, you can't run forever and she was captured. Using her as bait they realed him back in. They completed the job he couldn't. As a reminder that he works for them, they tattooed her name on the underside of his right wrist so that he wouldn't forget.

So now the hunt continues...


Comment Wall

You need to be a member of Writer's Realm - Roleplay to add comments!

Join Writer's Realm - Roleplay


  • hello, would you like to write ?

  • [Hello! I'm so sorry I didn't speak earlier, thank you for the add. Both of our characters are shifters interesting? Do you have any ideas for a plot? I'll try to come up with some ideas as well...·

  • “Are you sure you want to take this project on? It’s a lot to handle for a lone Hunter with no affiliated organization.”


    The gruff, unamused voice on the other end of the phone sounded concerned. Worried, even, as Eleanor Kane gave a brilliant roll of her eyes that wouldn’t be seen. In her hand, a dossier. The manila folder contained everything she’d need to know for the job she’s currently negotiating. Or, it was at least as much information as her questionably shady contact could drum up. Dax Steele, ailuranthrope. “A rising threat to the natural balance on account of supernatural abilities targeted at both mundanes and downworlders. Use extreme caution.” Slender fingers rifle through the files while she speaks.


    “I haven’t died yet, Vern. Besides, you know what they say about risks and rewards…” The grin on her face is nearly audible, and Vern sighs heavily into the receiver. He’s quiet for a long while before he retorts.


    “Yeah, the same shit that they spew about curiosity. Make sure you bring the Colt with you.” The line went dead, and thus began their contract.


    Vern was the right hand man of an elite organization. A group of Hunters that considered themselves the best of the best, and when her father was alive, Eleanor Kane’s family had been at the very top of the hierarchy. His untimely and tragic death had split the order up considerably, forcing the Hunters involved to go into hiding in fear of being exposed and targeted next. It was only within the last few years that they had begun to reband. Well, most of them.


    Harvey Kane’s only daughter refused to join, instead working under single contracts here and there when the need arose. Mostly when she felt she could be bothered from her own pursuits. Vern, a brusque son of a bitch with a real mean streak, had always had a soft spot for the lovely Huntress, and he called on her only when he felt it was necessary. She’d garnered a bit of a reputation in the community as a loose cannon, a hot-headed woman who didn’t quite conform with an organization of mainly men who’s motto was Ordo ab Chao. Order among Chaos.


    So when fire was needed to fight fire, they called her.


    The trip to London itself was uneventful. A flight across the pond from the Kane manor in New York to the busy, bustling streets of cloudy and foggy old London. Everything was executed untraceably- all cash paid in full for both the tickets and her nondescript hotel room, tucked away and hidden within the maze of cobblestone and historic buildings. She waited, rested up and studied Dax’s picture so long she could pick his face out of a crowd with her eyes closed.


    There was always a thrill in the preparation, a rush of adrenaline and promised adventure that slid its way down her spine like a familiar lover’s touch. Lenny never grew tired of it. She craved it, some nights, wandering the streets of her home city in search of some kind of palpable danger. She embraced it, loved the process of the Hunt as much as she loved the peril. If there was any human born to the role, it was her.


    At nightfall, when the rest of the city turned in for sleep, Lenny slides into a leather coat, zips up her boots and places the silver Colt revolver in its holster at her hip. A quick glance in the mirror confirms that none of her daggers or guns or other weapons are visible- only the angelic visage of a woman who looked better suited to be poised in front of a camera lens than tearing monsters limb from limb. Out the door she goes, prowling the streets in search of Dax Steele. Here, kitty, kitty...

    And so the hunt began.

  • (... Fair enough lmao )

  • (Hmm, what if Dax was hunting a certain human, but that human was also in the service of Mephistoheles. So Dax would try to kill the human only to meet with Mephistoheles and end up having a rivalry.)

This reply was deleted.

Blog Posts