Stroud

Stroud's background could be considered perfectly normal. He was born into a modest village and moved with his family to the bustling desert port of Loc Lac as a young child. His parents, both clothiers by trade, made a fair income by way of trading whole cloth and finished garments among ships both sand and air; when Stroud took an interest in becoming a hunter, his family had no trouble paying for starting gear and some training, with his grandfather taking him out on his first expeditions into the surrounding land. Everything seemed to fall smoothly into place for the boy as he became a man.

It could be easily assumed, then, that it was nature and not nurture that made Stroud the odd one out. While rarely physically cruel, he had a penchant for bullying his peers with a peculiar bluntness, seemingly drawn to whatever unnerved them the most. Adults found his statements strange as he needled at insecurities picked up through passive observation and conversations held around him. Even when not actively picking at your weak points, he often would say bizarre or suggestive jokes with a perfectly straight face, much preferring your discomfort over your laughter. Although his parents could scold him into behaving, he would be back at his games sooner or later, always seeking that ever-entertaining reaction.

Thankfully this sort of behaviour would ease up as he got older. As much fun as it was to leave his potential teammates shifting uncomfortably or getting up in arms, it wasn't very conducive to actually getting the 'hunting' part of 'monster hunting' done, and his mentor had made it clear that that was putting him out on thin ice. As he completed his training and earned himself a Guild card, he was actually beginning to look respectable, leaving the weird encounters mostly to downtime and being neither surprised nor annoyed when the average peer didn't care to hang out outside of assignment.

Life as a fully fledged hunter was oddly routine. It was a rhythm he fell into easily, the high demand of Loc Lac's job listings keeping him busy as he workshopped his reputation with the Guild. Although still his same off-putting self, he made sure to look good on paper--the idea of being an A-Lister was appealing to him for no greater reason than he wanted it, and so he set out to achieve it. The track seemed easy enough, at least until he was put out of commission by a diablos horn to the chest, hoisted into the air and feeling rather lucky to be tossed aside instead of impaled any further. But even that grievous injury and desperate rush back to camp wasn't more than a fence to be hopped to him. Stiffness in his healing side convinced him to swap weapons and take the time to retrain, and that was all the introspection he needed to do before blasting his way up the ranks as planned.

If he was being honest, achieving his goal didn't change much. He got about as much respect as he usually did from his distant peers, and while the hunts were more difficult, it still felt like the same old routine. But along with the new rank came an interesting letter in the mail: an advert for the Research Commission's latest round of tests. The Fourth Fleet was being assembled and You, according to this flimsy paper, could be on it. Keen on seizing what looked like a genuine wildcard, he showed up to the next round of applications with the full expectation of having a fun time trying something new and being sent home for being a weirdo.

What he didn't expect was to be hired.

The Fourth Fleet, the interviewers confessed, was mostly going to be administration. Things were apparently chaotic in Astera with so many different parties vying for time, resources, and muscle; a few regular hunters would be accepted to bolster the ranks on the ground, but what they really wanted was people able to fill a specific set of roles. Stroud made no pretense about being suitable for the types of numbers and distribution they were telling him about, but there was one role that they brought up again: arena management. It was more than just shepherding captured monsters; it was overseeing training and testing, coordinating monsters for experiments and data-gathering, and applying knowledge gained in the field by the other cogs in the Astera clock. Stroud's interest was piqued, but more than that, the interviewers seemed to see what lay hidden under layers of calculated distance and mocking smiles: a sharp, coordinated individual who could smile easily into the face of any situation, and who was just weird enough to enjoy watching his fellow hunters get stomped in the training ring without actually letting them die.

One long, long sea voyage later, they were proven right. Ten years ago the Fourth Fleet touched down on the shores of the New World, and Stroud took to the hive of Astera readily. He's since settled in as the arenamaster, finding great amusement in picking out just the monster to thrash his comrades while he watches and ticks off a letter-grade rubric. His provocative strangeness haunts his poor neighbours to this very day, but it's easy to take into stride when you know that when push comes to shove, Stroud will pull you out of trouble by any means necessary. Loc Lac was a place to do business, but feeling like he had a hand in building Astera has imbued Stroud with a certain passion for the place, and he has no intention of setting foot on that long boat back across the world ever again.

He may bother you at the canteen or shove you into the arena a bit before you're ready, but if you're in deep, just talk to Stroud. He can't promise no questions asked, but hey, he's no snitch, right?

• His main weapon is a heavy bowgun, but he's skilled in a few others, mainly the switch axe.
• His beret is styled after the Fourth Fleet's banner.
• He is very intentional about his interactions. If an offhand comment or bizarre move made you uncomfortable, know that he did it on purpose and should be blamed fully.
• He picked up the viola purely on a whim while looking for something to do on the long voyage to Astera. Thankfully for everyone's ears on the ship, he turned out to be a natural.
• 'Stroud' is actually his surname. His given name is Lloyd, but he considers it too personal to call him that and will rapidly sour against you if you use it.
• Having grown up in the desert, he gets cold easily in more wintery areas and has to bundle up more than the average hunter.
• On said wintery days he runs a tiny stove and kettle in the arena. No he will not pour you tea it's his. Fuck off.
• His favourite colour is pink.

TOJI❖

---

A fellow Fourth Fleet member, Toji's no-nonsense attitude fits surprisingly well with Stroud's weird behaviours, simply brushing off the strange lines entirely. They play chess together regularly, and Stroud always loses. He has no plans to change this.

WILLARD❖

---

The straight man to Stroud's antics, Willard has been known to not only tolerate his weird behaviour but even enable it on occasion. This is invaluable to Stroud, who enjoys pushing the man's boundaries almost as much as he treasures the tight relationship between them. In return, Will has unearthed in him a deeply devoted friend that others rarely notice.