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Prologue
Breathe curled and froze, wisps turned into clouds as the hot melded with the cold. Pine trees stood tall, heavily laden with snow. The man stood silent in the shadows, unmoving, you couldn't see him except for the dim light of the moon, briefly giving a glimpse of his scarred, unemotional face . Finally the man moved, snow fell from his shoulders and wide brimmed hat, a testament to how long he had spent there in that forest, standing vigil. The snow was barely disturbed as he walked, he seemed to phase through low branches, heavy with their crystalline burden. The wind began to pick up, first a gentle whistle through the pines, before reaching it crescendo of a gargantuan roar that ripped through the forest, blowing snow into a blizzard. The mans coat swept to the side, revealing a small glimpse of a gun barrel.
This man was simply known as the Hunter, a man who hunted all rogue supernatural creatures, for a price of course. Some say he wanders to hunt down the killer of a loved one, others say he was trained as a weapon from birth. None were completely right, but all weren't wrong. This man was Hadrian Potter, former unspeakable, an immortal who had lost all to the Creature Uprisings of 2034 and to the ravages of time.
In the wake of Voldemort's death in '98, the government came down hard on any who sided with Voldemort, covens were wiped out, imprisoned. Werewolves were hunted to near extinction and many families were relocated to internment camps. As you can imagine, this caused major discontent, a sort of underground railway was created to get the creatures out of the country,, but some wanted to stay and fight, these became known as the Bloody Claw. These were all creatures of the next generation who were whirled into a frenzy by radicals. They were pretty low key, just vandalising and holding rallies. That was until the 3rd May 2034, the Birmingham Massacre. They had waited until the full moon so all would be at their strongest, and then they set to the streets, attacking any unfortunate enough to cross their path, men and women, young and old, none were spared. That night the lives we had once knew was dead, burning in the ashes of Birmingham, forever a symbol of our greed, our short sightedness and our short comings.
Unspeakables and Aurors were called up to the front lines, tried and tested techniques no longer worked, the creatures had evolved, learnt tactics, and gained access to firearms. These decimated our ranks, a super sonic bullet being far more effective than any spell. The muggle military intervened then, we thought that this would stop them, and it did, at least, they did for a while. They adapted, they overcame, our former allies turned against us in the forms of revenants, werewolves and thralls.
We had to adapt then, we used magic to construct massive walls around our cities, people flooded in from the countryside, too exposed to the death squads. This however allowed us to by time. Unspeakables were trained in the use of weaponry, many favouring WW1 and WW2 weaponry with their large calibres and older feel. Wizarding kind still didn't adapt the fastest. Groups of 5 were put together known as 'Counters', these groups would venture beyond the wall, and into the enemies territory. Striking covens, packs and groups of monsters hard and fast, fully automatic weapons and explosives were used liberally to wipe them out, the group that rose to infamy was known as Omega, the last thing any creature would see, they were renowned for the use of Machine Guns and Igorot head axes. They mounted the heads of any creatures on pikes as a warning. This team was lead by our anti hero, Hadrian Potter. After losing his wife and children to a pack of werewolves, he became feared, taking heads and mounting them, just as they had done to his family. He became the most efficient killing machine, heartless to any that killed an innocent, decapitating them and burning their bodies, and when they were high on the pecking order, he dismembered them, limbs and torso's skewered onto pikes, earning him the nickname Țepeș, the impaler and of course Dracul. A bounty was placed on his head, some came close to claiming his head, the closest partially severed his vocal chords, he survived, but the vampire was dismembered with great vigour. He could not die easily of of old age, his ability to take damage was greater than that of a vampire or a werewolf. He could run faster, jump higher and hit harder than any human, something he used to great effect. He owever could be injured and spoke with a constant rasp, something used to great effect in psychological warfare, terrifying the creatures into panic attacks when they knew who hunted them.
The British Ministry had throughout continued their experiments on time travel, to try and use it as a weapon. The had failed for the most part, only able to send someone to a certain time, and they would not be able to come back afterwards to that time, 100 years into the past, to 1966, all would be dead by the time 2034 came around, that is all except Hadrian Potter, A shadow of his former self, heavily scarred and unfeeling, not really someone who could live amongst others, however he was their only hope. He agreed to the mission his purpose was to try and prevent the attacks, he would never see his friends again, but he would stop them from dying. His mission had several parts, to try and prevent the rise of Voldemort and to kill him, hopefully preventing the oppression of creatures, and if it happened anyway, to hunt down the ringleaders of the Bloody Claw before they did to much damage. He would take the name of Hadrian Peverell, a line he would actually belong to and pretend to be a pure blood so as to access the higher echelons of society. He would take his considerable funds and act as the air to a previously thought extinct line, who was considerably rich anyway, and add his funds, allowing him to rub elbows with the top tiers of wizarding society.
He now stood in the middle of Stonehenge, runes inscribed in blood radiated out for hundreds of metres, surrounded by the most powerful wizards and witches, all who would give their power for a better tomorrow. The chanting began, the wind began to pick up, whispering in the ears of all present, lights of all hues surrounded the mages present, twisting and changing like Will'o'wisps, the blood runes began to glow with an unearthly light, blood was power after all. Pain filled Hadrian's body, a thousand needles pierced his very soul, an inhuman scream ripped forth from his throat, spreading his anguish to the heavens for all to hear. With that it stopped, A bright flash of light blinded all the spectators, rubbing the spots out of their eyes they looked upon the wreckage. The dolomites crumbled to dust, a large crater and singed vegetation. They preyed that it worked, and retreated fearing the packs of creatures who would doubtlessly investigate.
December 27th 1966, Unknown location.
A body lay in the forest unmoving, snow falling upon the unmoving corpse. A fox approached, sniffing for food in this cold weather. It crawled towards the man cautiously, detecting no movement it bit, a hand whipped out, wrapping itself around the neck o the vulpine, and with a swift jerk a sickening crack emanated from the animal. A pair of eyes opened slowly, revealing a pair of deep emerald eyes, void of all emotion. He did not speak only laid there as the snow fell.
End of prologue
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