Hunter King has always had a habit of making poor decisions. Weather is was standing up for one of his siblings, trying to pull a fast one on a bunch of bullies, or making poor investments with someone who turned out to be a crime lord he's always been plagued with an interesting life. Not that he has especially minded. Blessed with a quick smile and a love of extra-legal activities, Hunter never really was a model citizen. The middle child of a family of salvages from a small community on Picon he left his planet and his family after a local criminal element decided they felt the need to remove his knees. The Leonese Foreign Legion served as a convenient place to escape that fate.
Thankfully for Hunter his families business salvaging trash and minerals from orbit left him with a fine touch at the controls of a ship. Joining up in February of 2234, the young man never once thought that he would actually be /in/ a war. Things were finally looking up for him. He was accepted into the Legion, given a Thunderstar to pilot and life was everything he could have hoped for. His poor life choices were behind him. Just two more years and he would even be a Leonis citizen. Then even his family would have to admit that he had done /something/ with his life.
He watched footage of the Fair on Picon with a strange sense of longing and pride. He wanted to be there with his family of course, but he was happy that the first Fair in so long would happen on his home planet. So he watched what footage he could of the happenings there when he wasn't being run though the basic flight controls of a Thunderstar. A few more years of this and he could go home, bring with him what he learned. Maybe expand the business to Leonis. He was busy making plans that April.
Then the bombs began to fall.
Hyperion became a firestorm but it wasn't the only one. Hunter's little slice of Leonis wasn't spared either. Stationed near the industrial city of Montseny he was swiftly caught up in the growing conflagration of the war. Monsteny fell swiftly to the Cylons but pockets of resistance around the venerable city remained. Concentrated in the small hamlet of Dax away from the main bulk of the city, the training flight he was set to graduate from suddenly became the forefront of the local resistance. Training Thunderstars were hurriedly refit with battle worthy weapons and the flight was hurled into the mix as the surprised forces of the Legion struggled to contain the Cylon foothold on their world. Short of supplies, training, and flying outdated ships, Hunter and his companions still rose to the occasion. Within a month of the first attack none of that training flight could be called a trainee anymore. Each had flown a dozen missions and all had lost friends to their faceless attackers. As the Cylon forces pressed out from Monsteny into the surrounding countryside the supply situation began to get despite, so Hunter used his unique set of skills to try to fix that.
Cutting deals with anyone from pirate clans to local markets the young man did all in his power to keep the Legion ships flying thought the continuing battles. Sometimes he flew supply missions himself, running bulky haulers to beleaguered Legion positions near to the front. Sometimes he only arranged the delivery. Sometimes he simply flew escort. Always though he used every dirty trick he could to bring in, find, or acquire the parts and supplies needed for the Legion forces in the area. Stretched thin and nearly cut off from proper supply routes, it was all he could do some days to keep the flight going.
He focused on the here and now, doing what he could as he continued to watch reports of the horrors that were inflected on his home planet. The Legion fought tooth and nail for every inch of ground, giving better than they received on every encounter but it never seemed to be enough. The Cylons used their own infrastructure against them, building more machines for every one cut down. Eventually the revitalized Cylon forces swarmed from the captured city and threatened with encirclement and extermination the last remaining defenders were forced to retreat. Battered and bloody, Hunters wing was broken up and reorganized and Hunter himself was assigned to a new training flight. One where he was to familiarize themselves with actual Vipers. His superiors hoped that the rest would do him good.
For the most part it did. One thing it did not do however is distance him from his new 'friends'. He kept his contacts in the various underworld and extra-legal agencies he had made, his inroads with various Black Market dealers and suppliers. Once again part of the military proper he didn't quite need the skills to keep himself and his squadmates flying, but he never knew when it might be useful again. Plus the added benefit of being able to keep his comrades in a few extra luxuries never really hurt things. In fact it endeared him to more than a few of them. His skills in the air though were never in question as he applied his considerable focus to turning what anger he felt for the Cylon attack back upon the attackers. His kill count and missions spoke for themselves in that arena, even though his penchant for playing slightly fast and loose with some regulations kept him from earning much higher rank.
With his contacts being sometime useful and his skills not in question his commanders in the Legion eventually decided he would be able to put his abilities to better use under the command of the Timber Wolves. Though they had little need of a scrounger, they always had need of a pilot. And perhaps his contacts might actually be useful under the right set of circumstances.
Standing at just under six foot, Hunter King has always been described as a scrapper. Broad shouldered, with dark hair cut short and bright blue eyes that stare out from a strong jawed features that never seem to be able to shake just a hint of stubble. A smile seems to come easily enough to his face and his deeper voice at least seems to carry a warm laugh when its coaxed out. He's of an athletic build, but its obvious that his nose has been broken a time or two and his hands seem to be calloused by more than just the flight stick of his Viper. His tanned skin speaking of quite a bit of time outside under a bright sun is crinkled around the edges of his eyes, laugh lines beginning to form there tell the story of a man that tries to smile more than frown.
On the back of his right hand is a long jagged old scar that just begs for a story.
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2238-02-25 - Against All Odds
The Picon Rescue has many moving parts. This is the one that follows Gage and the boy Nate, and the pilots, Ines and Hunter. (Ines doin' GM-y things.) Follows directly the events in 'We'll Get Them' and 'Even If It Hurts.'
Gage, Ines, Hunter
2238-02-24 - A Wing And A Prayer
Hunter, Gage, and Ines go forward with their plan to steal a heavy raider and blow up the fuel stores to create a diversion from the mine, leaving an opening for the prisoners to be freed. They get the job done and it ought to be a moment of triumph, but...
Gage, Ines, Hunter
2237-12-09 - Port Interception
The air wing goes after some reinforcements headed for Port Powell.
Calliope, Paquette, Alain, Aubrey, Stirling, Ines, Hunter
2237-12-03 - Fish In A Barrel
The air wing goes after an armored column.
Eva, Alain, Aubrey, Addison, Astraea, Ines, Hunter
2238-01-26 - That Which Lurks At The Mine
While out ranging, Charlie finds herself an Aleksander and a Hunter. The three of them find where the cylons have moved the prisoners.
Charlie, Aleksander, Hunter
2237-12-04 - Distractions And Gravity
So-called 'New Guy' meets more people in the gym.
Geoff, Yelena, Hunter
2237-11-20 - Native Housewarming Gifts
Same-Same hallways bring everyone to a pause and a new pilot breaks the ice with a gift of local beers.
Gray, Aldrich, Irene, Faye, Ines, Yelena, Hunter
2237-11-17 - Oh, It's You
Hunter King takes in a sunset by the sea on one of the last days the Dauntless will be on Scorpia to resupply, and inadvertently brings the past crashing back down on an unlikely former acquaintence.