The Bayou teemed with alligators once, their skins plentiful bounty for hunters like Keith Cowen. Apprenticed to the cruel and ambitious alligator hunter Frank Gravel, Cowen earned his keep on the flesh and hide of that primordial prey. Together the two men relished their prosperity, leaving mountains of scale and bone in their wake.

But that was before the corruption. That was before something far more threatening, and far more primeval, drove most of the gators away from the swamps, and left Gravel and Cowen high and dry.

Cold Blooded

As the alligators began to disappear, desperation took hold. Broke and without prospects, they eventually tracked down an alligator – one of the few that dared remain. As Gravel punched Tooth to Tail through scale, fat, and flesh, a mist of greed shrouded Cowen’s mind. He plunged Avarice’s blade into Gravel’s throat and watched him bleed out across the gator's carcass.

As their blood seeped into the mud, Cowen donned the beast’s skin: a mantle of victory and betrayal. A perfect match for the American Hunter’s Association, the Bayou’s monstrous inhabitants now feed Cowen’s cold-blooded murderlust.