Squall Hunter

His dislikes are mainly just pricks. He's not one to care very much for people who think they own the world, and he has no problem saying so.

He's a pretty silent guy, mostly only talks to the people who he likes, or who got to know him. He's got one huge scar on his back, and a matching one on the other side on his chest, but that's nothing compared to the chunk bitten out of his ear and the slash across his face. He's not pretty, but he's pretty dependable.

His bulk is not fat, but muscle and bone. He's no scientist, but he's certainly strong and fit. He drives what can only be described as a re-purposed tank. The armor was still there, and the treads too, but the gun was missing and there was a rather heavy duty looking piece of see through material so the driver could see, and rearview mirrors.

Best friend of Yoru Silvermane

yawned loudly as he walked into the bar, then uttered a muffled curse as he extracted himself from the new otter shaped dent in the wall outside. Feeling particularly embarrassed, he tried not to catch more looks than he normally would as he opened the door and entered the tavern. He was 7' 9", almost seven hundred pounds, and all muscle and bone. He looked around the bar with emerald eyes set into his head, set off nicely by his coarse purple hair and blue fur. He saw no one that he recognized, so his shoulders arched in a shrug as he walked over to the bar and sat down on the floor, afraid of what might happen to the barstools, were he to rest upon them. He called out to the room in general as he sat, trying not to draw attention to his size. "Hey, anyone know if there's a bar tender on duty?"