Deaths in the woods were nothing special, really. At least not until the body count started growing without an end in sight. Small town or not, when a place started going mad with paranoia over mythical creatures, it started to attract attention. Most of it came from people who mocked the beliefs of the yokels going on about monsters, but some of it came from people who believed. People who had encountered things similar, tracked them down, and killed them to protect others from the dangers they presented. It was a thankless job, but an important one, and someone out there had to do it. Youngsville's situation was a standout. Monster sightings were common, and most knew when to ignore one. Simple things like bigfoot sightings, talks of monsters that didn't really match up with known information, and killings that weren't necessarily anything a human or wild animal couldn't do. Most of them were safe to put down to misinterpretation and superstition.<br/><br/>But sometimes, it became too much to ignore. A whole town reduced to a paranoid mess that managed to add to the supposed body count themselves was at least worth an investigation. Within the region, a few hunters had been discussing who would get the honors of arming up and heading out, whether to kill some monsters or just set things straight with the locals. One of them won out, through a few intense games of rock-paper-scissors, some flipped coins, and a few thrown darts. Competition in the hunting community kept things fun, and generally brought out the ones who<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>wanted the job. With a car full of supplies and a case full of high-powered firearms, one of the hunters drove out to town, arriving the day after the last body had been uncovered.<br/><br/>An unassuming old truck pulled up near the town's police station, devoid of any identifying markers other than a rosary hanging around the rear view mirror and a dent in the front bumper. The vehicle was turned off, and out of it stepped the lucky hunter who was investigating, an adult man of mixed ethnicity that looked to be somewhere in his early 30s. Tan skin, very dark brown hair, and an average face gave him an unassuming, but still approachable look. Perfect for someone of his occupation, really. He strolled into the station, and approached the front desk's attendant.<br/><br/>"Hey there," He began, speaking with a friendly, but professional tone. "I've heard this town's had some trouble with some wildlife recently? I might be able to help you folks out there. I'm something of a 'specialty' hunter. Bears, boars, cougars, other things causing a hassle, I can help take care of it." What the 'other things' were, these folks didn't need to know. At this point, it was likely impossible, but if he could handle the town's trouble and leave with the locals convinced their monsters were just some very vicious wildlife, he'd do his damnedest to try. "If the woods need some cleaning up, I'm your guy."