Colvin Whistler's Questionnaire

I live up in the mountains. Safer that way. Not as likely to be bothered, or tricked, or tracked. Colorado is good country. ‘Specially after all that’s happened lately. State never bothered to check up and declare me legally dead so the house was never sold off. Too remote to bother. So when I got back on my feet, wasn’t too hard to spruce up the old cabin and get things running again. Hell most of my hunting buddies hadn’t even realized anything had happened to me. Just thought it was weird I’d been ignoring calls for half a year. I told ‘em some story about needing the time to try some sobriety thing—which was funny, none of em thought I was ever an alcoholic. But it worked well enough to put em at ease.

Now I’m back to doing odd jobs…waiting for that next call. I know the Spear is out there, with the man I gave it to as I lay dying—if I have any hope of being more than a stain on the ground, I better either retrieve it, or find something else like it.

Maybe something that doesn’t make me feel so…like them.

I do odd jobs around the mountains. Used to work for a hunting magazine too, and still do contracting work for em here and there, but I’m no longer full time.

But if there’s ever something bothering a homestead out here in the mountains or below in the fields, I’m good at being pest control, even for shit the city companies won’t touch.

It’s tough work, but it’s honest work. Makes a living and, on top of that it comes with a small perk.

Always a chance whatever is bothering folks up in the mountains is one of them, the Faeries. Even if it’s just some pixie. 

Any job that lets me snuff out those monsters is good business.