Todd Blackburn

Hunter, poacher, son of a whore - Todd is all of these things and he's not particularly proud or ashamed of any of them. He makes his living by trapping and stalking all manner of beasts in the mountains and forests surrounding Dornie and has been known to bag some more unusual creatures from time to time. Though his reasons for doing so are muddy at best, Todd has also seen fit to join up with the Dornie militia, acting as a ranger out in the wilds and putting his attendant supply of ammunition to good use.


Full Name: Todd Blackburn
Age: 41
Hair: Black (Greying)
Eyes: Brown

Status: Cranky
Occupation: Hunter
Origin: Dornie, Scotland
Allegiance: Militia?

First Seen: A Sobering Sight
Last Seen:

With this ruddy-faced man, "rough around the edges" doesn't even begin to cover it. He's a whopping six-foot-two and looks a man of fifty, but carries himself like a man just entering his forties - given the tendency of folks living in rough conditions to age prematurely, it's more likely that he's closer to the younger end of that scale. He's not particularly handsome unless you're into the whole mountain-man thing, and when he walks it's half disinterested swagger and half determined march, which makes for a very odd gait indeed. Judging by his fairly hulking, muscular stature it's a good bet he doesn't shy away from physical challenge, and the myriad scars marring his forearms and sinewy hands indicates that the labor isn't exactly the easy kind. Personal grooming hasn't made the top ten list of this man's priorities, and more often than not the scents of rotting leaves and dirt and wet dog cling to him and his clothing like a shroud.

The man's hair is a short, choppy mass that looks like it was trimmed with a hunting knife in front of a shaving mirror in the dark of midnight, and his face sports a full beard and mustache that are unkempt but at least trimmed often enough to keep from growing into a tangled mess. Though it used to all be as black as a raven's eyes his hair has become distinctly peppered and even salted, most notably around his temples and at his chin, and odd silvery grey strands are scattered in amongst the rest with no attempt to hide. His eyes are an unremarkable brown.


Portrayed by:
Jeffrey Dean Morgan


Todd Blackburn came into the world inauspiciously, born in a back room of a brothel in Dornie to one of it's employees. His mother had no interest in keeping him nor the means to do so without beggaring herself, and so she weaned the boy as quickly as possible and delivered him right to his father's doorstep, telling the man in no uncertain terms that she had no resources for the child, and that he would take him in or she would find another way to deal with her "problem." The father, a leatherworker named Ivor Blackburn, agreed to take the child.

Todd spent his first years of life fed on goat's milk, cheese, crumbly bread, and whatever meager vegetables Ivor managed to harvest from his small garden or buy from local farmers. His toddler days were predominantly lived on the floor of his father's workshop, playing with scraps of leather and hide and the small toys made for him out of the discarded remnants of his father's work. Ivor was not a very warm man, certainly not an outwardly affectionate one - but he understood the duties of parenthood and died his best to care for his son as he felt he should. Small childhood hurts were responded to with sharp reminders that there were worse things in the world than skinned knees or splinters.

When Todd was six one of his father's suppliers, a French transplant named Marc Bisset, came to the workshop with his normal load of furs but also a big, rangy puppy carried in a sack, which tumbled out on to the floor and right into Todd's arms. Bisset and Ivor had been discussing a potential apprenticeship for the boy, and during the next two years Todd raised the puppy into a magnificent deerhound bigger than he was, and soon the pair of them joined Bisset in his wandering. The rest of Todd's childhood was spent mostly away from Dornie, traveling the Scottish wilderness with Bisset for weeks, months, and even seasons at a time on extended hunting trips. He learned to care for pack animals and dogs and also himself. He was taught to trap and shoot and ride, skin game, butcher the meat and cook it, and even to turn the ragged, bloody skins into pelts fit to be worn by the finest ladies in Dornie.

He grew up tough and self-sufficient and dour, responsible for his own life at a time when most boys yell at their parents and sneak off into wine cellars. Despite the acquisition of plenty of skills the apprenticeship with Bisset, a seasoned and very cautious hunter, was mostly uneventful. Still, boys will be boys. At fourteen, Todd decided it would be a grand idea to hunt down the owner of an interesting set of tracks all by himself, and set off after the trail with two of Bisset's hounds and an ancient rifle. What he found was a troll. He lost the two dogs to the creature and very nearly lost his right arm. Luckily for him, Bisset found him before he was outright killed.

His apprenticeship lasted until he was eighteen, at which point the boy considered himself a man. He left Bisset and went home to his father with a pair of young hounds, and within the year - having saved his meager earnings all his life - had enough furs and favors to arrange for a simple house to be raised for him on the outskirts of Dornie. He moved into it shortly thereafter and then bought another pair of young hounds from a trader passing through. Life was simple for a long while. He even started breeding his own hounds, selling unwanted pups off to locals and caravans every few months, a good and regular source of income even when the game population dipped. He headed into the wilds regularly and returned with bounty enough to start to make a name for himself as a furrier, eventually saving up enough to buy a couple of mules to enable himself to take longer and longer trips.

On one such hunting expedition he made a lucky kill on a kelpie. Never having experienced such a thing with Bisset, the young man did what he could to properly prepare the hide and sold it to a caravan when he returned to Dornie. Despite the relatively shoddy tanning job, the profits were enormous… enough to provide the means for him to build and supply a small hunting lodge up on a steep pass in the Cloud mountains, and to hire the labor of two local lads to help him construct it. The taste of wealth was enough to spark Todd's interest, and soon he was hunting down anything that looked even remotely supernatural. Dragonhide soon started to fill the little mountain cabin, and though most of it came from the pestilential little reds there are a couple of green tails and storm bringers that have contributed to the collection.

According to Todd his crowning achievement since that first kelpie kill is taking down a Cave Dweller singlehanded, just him and his dogs - and it's helped add to his reputation. The truth of the matter, however, is that in his ranging he found a half-eaten dragon corpse on a high pass and managed to salvage a number of its horns and some undamaged portions of hide. Two of the most impressive horns decorate his mantlepiece. The others were traded away.

He's had a successful solo career over the past twenty-odd years, and has no intention of abandoning it - but once Duncan Rowntree established his militia, Todd made the relatively easy decision to join up. The organization needed rangers. He was very interested in the evident carte blanche of the organization and its steady supply of ammunition. He's thus far performed his militia-related duties without incident, and aforementioned duties are keeping him closer to Dornie for longer periods than he's used to, enough that he has come to be known in Dornie as an intermittent fixture in taverns. He's also such an odd duck that even those who don't know him personally can probably recall The Weird Guy With The Dogs.


The man’s as subtle as a boar in rut. He’s blunt in manner and speech, and tends to be standoffish and gruff with strangers and even acquaintances and friends. He’s competitive and not a little bit greedy, and years spent in deer blinds and constructing traps has honed his sense of patience to a nearly unbelievable level. He’s got a sharp mind and he’s a quick learner, both of which have contributed to his ego and the huge competitive streak that he’s developed over his lifetime. Hell, he’s the kind of guy who has a “big fish” hunting story for practically every campfire brag-fest, and some of them are actually true. Todd has no sense of shame about anything from the fact that he was born to a whore to his lack of personal grooming and beyond.

Though he isn’t quite a misanthrope but Todd is certainly more comfortable with animals than he is with people. He has what people would probably describe as “a way” with four-legged beasts; as a whole they are instinctively trusting of him and he knows how to treat them and train them do establish their devotion, obedience, and love. Todd prides himself on his skills and his self-sufficiency, and is far more comfortable being on his own than being helped by anyone other than his hounds.

For more, see: Character Notes for Todd Blackburn
For logs, see: Logs for Todd Blackburn