The Pump Hunt (Preview) (Patreon)

Character description for a story I've been working on to try and unstuck my writer's block.
Tags aren't necessarily indicative of the snippet's content, but are intended to infer the tone of the rest of the story.
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The Hunter disassembled his weapon and cleaned it with a religious discipline before every contest. He oiled the hinges, made sure the trigger was sensitive to his touch, and replaced the canister with a new one. The faint iridescence of the strange gas shining blue through its cylindrical prison, eager to be deposited into a tribute. The Hunter's hands were deft, and careful, a fact belied by his thick fingers and rough skinned palms. He was a practical man, with a practical, sturdy body to match. The weapon came together quickly, he could rebuild his pump rifle blindfolded after thirty years of wielding it.

It was a thick, short looking rifle with a coiled hose stuffed into the barrel and tipped with a nozzle. When the trigger was squeezed, a strong pneumatic blast propelled the nozzle. If it found its mark, a button on the left side of the gun could be pressed to empty the cannister of Orblastium into the target. What happened next was obvious to anyone who handled the stuff. The framed scraps of clothing and miscellaneous items in the Hunter's study served as a reminder to be careful with the stuff.

The Hunter placed his pump rifle into a heavy sling suspended from his belt. He possessed thick arms strong enough to fire the gun with one hand. His sand coloured skin was tanned unevenly from long hours laying in wait. His belly had been reddened by the sun, giving it the impression of a great stressed balloon. The way his x shaped harness, with the central ring holding the four leather straps in place, strained against his ball gut further emphasized its tautness. Having such a bulbous gut was a liability, it was an easy target for prey who had managed to find a weapon. The Hunter kept himself purposefully fat, purposefully bloated. He liked the extra thrill of being easier to hit. No one had managed to successfully take advantage of it yet, so he made sure he was extra round this time.

His wide set face, covered mostly by his coal black beard, stared back at him in the mirror. He threw on a leather vest, and fastened it with iron chains. It didn't close, and his belly bulged out between the gaps in the chains like a giant ball stuck in a doorway.

He grabbed his favorite hat. Another leather article, to match his vest, harness, trousers and heavy boots. It was just a bit too small to be called a cowboy hat, but its brim still managed to obscure the upper half of his face in shadow.

He slapped his gut and wondered if today would be the day he burst, and walked out of his office. Ready for the hunt.