ooc- My intentions for this character are to 'discovery-write' him. In other words, I will incorporate whatever your characters say or imply. His future is determined by the way he is treated by other characters (so feel free to have fun with that).
Devro dropped his hammer with a noisy clang! and shoved his little paw into his mouth, blinking back tears. His inexperienced paws were already bruised and beaten, and one of his claws was bent at an unpleasant angle from a previous injury, but Devro had an iron will that surpassed the pain of his mistakes.
He tasted blood on his paw and moaned softly to himself. He would have to go to the infirmary again. That meant another scolding about a mere youngster handling dangerous tools.
The tang of blood pushed dark memories to the surface, but he forced those down, too. That's not me. That was never me, he thought.
"Are you ar'ight, master Devro?" The cellarhog called around the corner. "I don't want the missus coming down on me about letting you use my tools, ya hear?"
Devro took his paw out of his mouth and dried it on his tunic, leaving a tiny red smear. "Yessir. I'm fine." That meant no infirmary. Besides, the other youngsters were always telling him to 'vermin-up'. He could stand to be a little tougher.
"Ar'ight then." The kind -though quite brusque- cellarhog went back to his work.
Devro had to use the cellar for his tinkering. No other beast in Redwall trusted him with tools, and there was nowhere else where he could hide from his peers. Thus, he spent a lot of time underground.
Stoats weren't a favorite at Redwall. A wimpy stoat was even worse: his height made him intimidating, but his thin frame and weak constitution made him as easy mark for bullies.
Devro stood up and looked at his unfinished work. It was a bulky and lopsided attempt at a clock, but it was his best work so far. With real tools he could have done far better.
I should make some real tools, he thought. I saw a book on it somewhere.
Devro sighed and stood up. His industrial spirit was worn out for the day. He pulled a shred of canvas over his unfinished clock and returned the hammer.
ooc- Feel free to run into him anywhere in the castle. I think this starts as a low-key high-school drama with childish dares, pretty girls, and small-time bullies. We could even time-lapse forward after a few scene, if you like.