Robin Martin | Hunter

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✧Alert

✧Loyal

✧Attentive

✧Clever

✧Dutiful



Negatives (At Least 3):

✦Jealous

✦Aloof

✦Cynical

✦Pessimistic

✦Dishonest



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Parents:Taniya Martin ( Mother | MIA ) + Unknown Father

Siblings:As far as he knows he is an only child.

Other Family:He has grandparents on his mother’s side but they long since cut their daughter off and by proxy, Robin as well.

Important Others:Miranda Filips ( caretaker | mentor | alive )

History:It was difficult, being 9 years old in Detroit in the 90s. Not only having to worry about school but also gang wars, drug raids and petty theft. Though for Robin it was a living nightmare. His mother, after his father up and abandoned her some time after he was born, had a prevalent drug addiction going off and on them the majority of his childhood. When he was toddler, some of the drug dealers would take pity on him and at least help keep him fed though that all but stopped when he was8, being deemed “ grown enough to take care of his damn self “ per their words.



And so he did.



His life became a monotonous routine. Getting up early to bathe, make himself breakfast, check on his mother if she was even home that day, walk to school, come home, do homework, wash clothes, sleep. Again and again. Out of fear of being separated from his only family kept up with appearance to keep CPS from being involved. Catering to his mother when she needed him and making sure, even if she didn’t want to be, was in bed by a certain time out of fear she would wander out at night and get herself killed.



It was rounding the middle of the school year and Robin was walking to school. Down the same path he always had, same pace, zoning out even. He was crowded by a group of teenagers. Their intent? Easy. They wanted his possessions. Whatever he had. They planned to take. He looked for an opening and attempted to capitalize on it only to be dragged back and held down, a knife being kept steady to his throat. He didn’t remember much in the moment, mostly his futile prayer that he wouldn’t start crying or worse pee himself. Then there was a loud honk of a horn. Shouting and then, freedom. He quietly watched as they all got up and ran leaving him on the pavement.



It was hot, the sun beating down on him, and as he tried to pull himself up a hand came out towards him. An older gentleman, hispanic descent, pulled him off the ground. Even fixed his shirt and made sure to brush the dirt off of him. Robin was asked simply if he was okay and the two of them stood in silence until Robin pushed past him and quietly continued his way to school. Not even a thank you uttered.



Coming back home he saw the man again, smoking in his car,who stopped Robin again, poking his head out of the car window.



“ I’m your new neighbor, Miranda. If you need me.I live across the street. Just ring my doorbell. “



Robin didn’t have the heart to trouble him. So he never did. But that didn’t stop Miranda from coming to him, often stopping by to bring over left overs or simply have a chat. Even if it was mostly him talking at Robin. He wouldn’t admit it, but he considered Miranda a friend. The only who seemed to care about him, and it was- well it was nice.



In the middle of the summer , Robin woke to his mother gone. Not unusual for her, but this time she never returned. Days and nights came to pass, and not a single notice from her.



He knew eventually it would be found out he was parentless and he risked foster care. So, for the first time he went to Miranda. And Miranda took him in. With the promise that they looked out for each other. Miranda had lost his daughter some years previous and so for him, this was a re-try.



Eventually it came to light that Miranda was Hunter. Due to the fact that he was pulled back into the business after temporary retirement, too many debts needed fulfilling. It meant that Robin needed to be trained, even if it was just to defend himself.



Years came and went, Robin kept up with his studies via home school, moving from city to city and taking in the sites. By the time he was 19 he knew that he didn’t want to go college. All college meant was more people to have to unnecessarily speak to. So, with much back and forth he convinced Miranda to let him be a Hunter. Which he has been ever since.











Alias: Amour/Momo

How did you find us?: Disboard on Discord

Experience: 7 years of rp experience | No proboards experience

Other Characters: N/A first character here

RP Sample: Kathy was let into the house like always, with a polite greeting from George and led to the large expansive library that made up a part of the Whitehall house. It had been the one rule that Dr.Whitehall had, no matter his son's ages, that any guest that came had to be brought in here. She wasn’t sure why such a rule was in place, but after being shown the whole of the house once she knew it was either to keep anyone from getting lost or to make people keep their hands to themselves.



Once let in, the first thing she noticed for once wasn’t Sydney waiting on her like always, but one of his brothers sitting in one of the chairs that sat around the coffee table before the large fireplace. She couldn’t tell from the door which brother it was, but as she walked closer, she could make out short cropped hair, and a sharp angle of the nose… It was Dartanian, or Dart as he liked to be called.



“Good afternoon Dart. Surprise seeing you in here.” she says once she is close enough, catching the small glance sent her way as the others keep working on something in his hand.



“I don’t see why it’s a surprise. I do live here after all.” he says, not bothering to return the greeting, but she was used to that, he always has been the icey one out of the three.



“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just you’re never anywhere near here when I’m around.”



“Yeah well, I needed the flat surface to get some stuff done and Till gets pissed when I use the dining room table.”



And there that was again, so far from what she had been able to tell, Sydney and his eldest brother always called their father just that, father. But Dart had never called him that so far, it was always either the old man, Till or the few times he has out right just called him Dr.Whitehall. She always wondered, from a professional standpoint, what could have been done for one child to drop the terms so often used when addressing one’s parents.



Closing in the distance to one of the chairs Kathy sat down and looked around to see that other than them the room looked to be empty. “I came to see Sydney, figured he’d meet me here by the time I got in here.” she commented before looking to see just what the dark haired man was doing and tilted her head as she noticed that he seemed to be busying himself with a bit of leather.



“What are you doing exactly?” she asked, wondering why it seemed to have his attention so fully.



“Fixing something Otto asked me to. Seems he only trusts me with something like this, of course I know why.” he answers, looking up at Kathy for a moment before looking back down at what he was doing. She was about to ask just what it was when she heard the sound of a book shutting with more force than was necessary.



“It’s Italian leather, unfinished, but already processed to its normal soft but sturdy quality.” looking up the young woman felt herself shiver a bit as she saw Otto Whitehall on the second floor looking down at them. “Normally it’s made into belts or other things of basic use nowadays, but for what I need done I only trust him to do it. Since it seems to be his line of expertise, next to his other work.”



“Hello to you too Otto.” Kathy says, noticing just how tight her tone had gone when addressing him. She wasn’t sure what it was about the oldest Whitehall son but he made her uncomfortable, more than Dart’s quietness and Dr.Whitehall’s icy stare, it always felt like he was looking into her soul and judging what he found there, and he didn’t like what he saw.







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