This is OOC knowledge unless you find out about him in game 
First Name: Braer Aliases: Braer of the Hunt, Brother Bear, Ravager.
Appearance:
Tendrils of long, brown matted hair frame this brutish young humans rugged features, with pale grey eyes that penetrate through the mask of tanned leathery skin with a feral predator’s intensity.
Standing over 6” tall this man’s muscular physique is clad in hides and animal skins as if worn as trophies of the hunt.
Personality Profile:
General Health: Excellent
Deity: Malar
Initial Alignment: CE
Profession: Hunter
Base Class & Proposed Development: Ranger/Barbarian/Fist of the Forest/Bear Warrior
Habits/Hobbies: He is a feral beastly man born and raised among a hunt of feral Malarite shape shifters. He likes Hunting and killing for sport, fishing and food sampling of new and exciting exotic meats. Dislikes: Elves, anything eleven, ranged combat, laws and civilization, weakness, unnatural things and elves..
Languages: Animal, Common
Weapon of Choice: Unarmed (Clawed Gauntlets), Claws (Kama shape)
Background Story:
His full background story will be posted as an ongoing tale of adventure and bloodlust however here is the prologue, part 1 I am currently writing for his background goes into the discovery and slaughter of the “Hunt” by the Elves using magic and bows leaving Braer the only survivor who leaves his home to find a new “Hunt”. So, this is the prologue I wrote years ago for my Malarite Hunter character:
Goals:Braer of the Hunt, Prologue:
Distance and Time had become a foe. The night had come and the Elf hadn't reached the edge of the forest, a bad sign. The night's silence was eerie; no forest should be this silent. Only moments ago, the owls were hooting and a wolf was howling but now nothing, only the bellowing horn piercing the silence as it echoed across the winds telling him …. “They were close”. He'd have to make it to the edge of the forest if he ever wanted a chance to see the light of dawn again.
His running footsteps seemed to echo off the grass, twigs and leaves in the eerie silence. His own heavy breathing increasing with his fear. “Nothing should be this silent, not a forest”. Trying to keep his mind off things except getting to safety he ran through the dense foliage as quickly as he could.
He ran; fear a cold lump in his stomach. They were closing in on him, he knew. He could feel them, dogging his footsteps, how had they caught up so quickly after he had been given a head start. He had to run, run… not much longer and he'd be safely out of the forest, they had promised his freedom if he escaped the forest…they had promised…. “Just a bit further”...
“Oh please don't let me be caught! Please, I beg you!" His imploring prayers to the Seldarine having been spoken were trailing off his lips softly.
A few more yards and he'd be out of the forest. They had promised him his life if he made it out of the forest. A sense of relief slowly came over him, only to be melted instantly like a drop of ice in a blazing flame, as a horrible raging howl savagely shattered the silence.
It seemed to be so loud, as if it were right next to him. His heart skipped a beat as he stumbling on. “Run, you damn fool! Their here! Their Here!” His instincts screamed to run faster. Terror at an utmost high and pushing him forward, screaming in him to run and not to stop, to not look back.
He stumbled and almost fell, boots snagging on tree roots; he’d lost the feeling in his feet, and every step sent a jolt of impact up his legs.
He could hear the pursuit behind and sobbed for breath. Tiny unconscious noises of fear broke from his throat. “I have to run faster!” He couldn’t; even with terror clawing at his back he could not run any faster.
He tripped and lost his footing, stumbled and rolled across the ground. He bit back a cry and rolled to his hands and knees. Pain stabbed up his leg, the fall had twisted his ankle. A sob of frustration broken from his throat, “Oh no, please”… He could hear the cries from behind; yowls of triumph, they knew they had him.
He crawled a few paces forward, gritting his teeth against pain. The full moon drifted free of the clouds, painting the ground in grey and silver, the forest silver edged black.
As he raised his eyes to the forest, he glimpsed a figure in front of him, slowly rising from the grass, its pale eyes burning with tense concentration as it regarded him. Slowly the figure's feral visage twisted itself into an excited grin exposing dagger like pointed white teeth that shone in the moonlight.
He shrank down in fear. “They cut round in front of me”…The bays of triumph around him were deafening now, sounding as though they were practically at his heels. He stared at the figure in front of him.
Time froze as the hunter stepped into the moonlights rays and loomed over him. A muscular figure clad in hides and fur, pale grey eyes piercing through the moonlit night looking down upon him like a beast sizing up its pray.
Reaching towards him the hunter grasped his throat in a vice like grip, claw tipped cloves digging into his flesh as he was dragged to his feet against the rough barked tree trunk. Pupils shrinking to pinpoints, the feral hunters face drew closer and rancid breath washed over him as the hunters low gravelly voice whispered into his ear,
“Know that I, Braer of the Hunt claim the prey of the High Hunt….it was an honorable, clean hunt”
Slowly the grip around his throat drew tighter until darkness took him.
Live for the hunt
Find or help form a new “Hunt”
Slay the greatest beasts in the name of Malar
Eat some tasty meaty treats
Stop civilization from ruining the wild hunt
Oppose the Druids who seek balance
Become an "Old Hunter"
Die a glorious bloody death
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts:
Braer is feral but not a idiot, he cares nothing for anyone who doesn’t respect the true nature of the hunt. The High Hunts are the highlights of the seasons for him and he is always trying to find greater foes to hunt and vanquish in the name of Malar.