Forget my past mistakes, failures and losses. The present matters most and that is how I wish you to know me.
“You mentioned you had gotten riled up. May I ask what about this prophecy talk got you so, while you were drinking?”
Riscar's head lolled to one side as he squinted at Eve. "What part of 'drunk and I don't remember the rest' did you not understand? Woodland beasts are stupid beasts that will latch onto the smallest bit of gossip and exaggerate it."
He waved a paw about lazily. "Ignorance and gossip, the two worst things to have in a beast. Unfortunately, the two seem to go hand in hand." Noticing her eyeing the room he continued. "I just mentioned that I didn't steal anything. You don't have anything worth stealing."
Rolling his head back towards Nova, Riscar twitched his snout at her. "That's what a bath and mint sprigs are for, vixen fool. I didn't steal your sleep, either. I just…took it away from you."
Listening to her statement about prophecies, he snorted in derision. "You wouldn't know a prophecy if it tweaked your whiskers and smacked you a good 'un on the bottom. At least you know what it isn't, though, so perhaps you're not a total loss."
“Well I guess we should go get something to eat, while it’s still morning…You’re welcome to join us, providing you not steal from us…”
"There's a lot of fighters about and they just got slaughtered by Savas's horde, not sure how they'll behave with… us about...Come on, 'afore your stomach and everythin' in it comes out yurr mouth layin' down like dat."
Glaring balefully at her, Riscar accepted Nova's paw and hauled himself up. "While your point is indubitably valid, I am going to resent that statement on the mere principle of being the recipient of it."
"Don't hurt yourself trying to figuring that out." Riscar snickered to himself.
Sighing loudly, Riscar swallowed his mint sprigs and smoothed his ruffled clothes once more.
"Aye, let's go get something to eat. As you saw fit to lend me your room, I will purchase our breakfast." A fat coin purse appeared in his hands and disappeared just as quickly.
With a lazy grin, Riscar pulled open the door and began to whistle the tune of a tavern song. He sauntered torward the stairs, humming lyrics to himself.
"There once was a ruler of Zariskadia,
a nasty fellow indeed,
with eyes of blue and long sharp claws,
evil was in every deed!
Kariska was the name of that prince,
an ugly name, I know,
and he loved his enemies queen,
she loved him not though!
One day as he was pining,
a bauble his eyes did catch,
of his love he was designing,
with his gift her love to fetch!"
Riscar paused and snickered before turning around, his right paw on the first stair. "I would sing the rest but it's an incredibly crude and crass song. However, it is very catchy and I cannot do it justice. Perhaps I'll ask the tavern band to sing it for us."
Grinning to himself at something undoubtedly crude, Riscar descended the stairs.
OOC: I couldn't help myself and I just had to reference my old character and the role you and I used to play, Kiara.
I'll come up with the full song later. I just made that up on the spot hahaha
“I think my dear friend Nova is trying to say, is that I’m Eve.”
Riscar blinked owlishly at the rather abrupt turn in events, mindlessly crunching on the sweet leaves. He flicked his bushy tail and stared back at Eve as she continued.
What is your name? What was going on down there last night? We could tell it was some busy…and loud."
Once more, Riscar blinked, this time at the sudden influx of questions. Scowling slightly, mostly because severely would have required effort, he held up a paw. His head hurt even more now.
"By everything that is unholy…" Riscar muttered. "Have pity on a man hungover." Brightening somewhat, he dragged his flask from his hip and took a long swig of the foul concoction within.
Head lolling to one side, he gave them a secretive smirk. "The secret to curing a hangover...more drink. Though I suppose I'll need some food eventually.."
Riscar frowned a little and glanced at his awaiting audience. "Oh...you asked...questions." Riscar sneered somewhat as he said the last word. Answering questions took effort and was incredibly dull on top of that.
He stood up, albeit unsteadily, and performed a passable bow. "Riscar Gentlewind, at your service. Re-known thief and drunkard, extraordinaire!" Riscar's whiskers twitched. "More drunkard than anything else."
Sitting down with a heavy groan, Riscar waved a hand vaguely. "I didn't steal anything from you so don't worry. You seem like the type to want your stuff back. Ugh. Your types are the worst."
Holding up a paw, he counted down on the connected digits. "Last night...I got drunk. Stupid woodland beasts said stupid woodland things, prophecies and such. I was drunk enough to actually get riled. I don't remember the rest."
Tossing more sprigs into his mouth, Riscar grinned lazily. "I do remember them mention you, Eve." He scoffed and leaned his chair back on two legs.
Unfortunately for him, he was both hungover and not quite yet awake.
A resounding crash and a few muttered curses later, Riscar found himself staring balefully at the ceiling. He didn't bother to get up.
"Prophecies...true prophecies...they exist. But you don't read fate in such an easy manner, with names mentioned and all. When a seer...sees...they are literally interpreting what happens in the future. So much information, all at once...it can't be interpreted in a normal manner. Thus, the seer channels the information into riddles and thus you have a prophecy."
Riscar grimaced at the long sentence. "At least that's what I was told by an old seer once. A true one, mind you."
"I robbed her blind, afterwards, on principle. What a load of..." He glanced at his current roommates. "...Anyway, I've heard old prophecies, fulfilled ones, recited before. They're never that specific."
He chuckled dryly and continued munching his mint, mindlessly staring at the ceiling. Too much talk and not enough laze, made Riscar a rather irritable squirrel.
I'm pretty sure my time-table will let me be reasonably more active than before. I'm currently in 'Open Season on Polecat' but I'm looking to stretch my legs a bit more.
If anyone has a thread that's already underway and doesn't mind me inserting Riscar in, let me know. My brain won't stop tickling me.
Riscar awoke in the manner that he did all things, with languid movements and tired sighs. He considered removing the chair that was over his head but decided against it. It was too early for hard decisions, after all. The pounding of his head only induced him to move all the more sluggishly. If the rooms proper occupants had been acquainted with him better, they would have quickly realized that their alarm system was quite ineffective.
He shifted his head to one side and froze upon seeing the female polecat from the previous night basking by the window. She had yet to notice him. Riscar blinked slowly and watched the motes dance in the early sunlight. He was very obviously not in the room that had been let to him. Slowly turning his head, he noticed the oddly colored vixen asleep.
Deciding that such dangerous-looking companions would most likely not appreciate a rude awakening, Riscar quietly wriggled out from underneath the chair. He immediately noticed the flask on the chair and placed it gently on the ground. Riscar then proceeded to sit down in the chair and straighten his rather rumpled clothing.
He then undid his careful straightening by relaxing into a slouch and stretching his legs. All of this was done with the utmost quiet. Thieves did not get anywhere by being loud, after all. Riscar was not sure what he was doing in the room in the first place and thus was not certain as to whether he should leave or not.
He most definitely was not going to disturb a sleeping vixen and a sun bathing polecat. Riscar much preferred not being decapitated.
Upon letting air escape his lips in a quiet sigh, he almost gagged.
His breath was absolutely horrid. This prompted him to pull a few mint sprigs out of his pouch and toss them into his mouth.
Unfortunately, it was at this exact moment that his right leg twitched and knocked over the flask. Normally, such a movement would result in a mere noise. However, the cheap glass used at the inn, combined with extensive use over the years, caused the flask to shatter.
Riscar's whiskers twitched in annoyance at his folly as he munched on the mint.
"Ah…by Hellgates that was a stupid thing..." Slouching into his chair even more, he lazily turned his head to the polecat.
"Well...good morning to you, madam. Thank you for providing me with a chair but I must say...the quality of the wares leaves something to be desired."
OOC: I forgot this part –> As always, let me know if you need anything changed or my post conflicts with anyone else's. Thank you~~~
If one were so inclined, they could look into the darkest corner of the room and they would find a hazy-eyed, plump squirrel. In his right paw, he held a tankard of seaweed grog, one of the vilest drinks by popular opinion. For this purpose, the squirrel took it upon himself to drink all the inn had to offer and thus save any other unfortunate beast the trouble of consuming it.
Some beasts had tried to make conversation with him but found him an unpleasant conversationalist. Not through crass speech or offensive language but merely because his responses were limited to, "Hm." and "I see." As a result, he was finally left in peace, a fact that pleased his inebriated mind to a boundless degree.
Riscar Gentlewind, a rather…soft name for a beast drinking such swill, is the name of this squirrel. Riscar had been enjoying the relative peace and quiet of the inn for the past several days. However, beasts and woodlanders of all shapes, sizes and health began to flood the village. As such, his quiet little inn had quickly turned into the village source of news, gossip and all manner of irritating speeches.
Then there was all this commotion about a prophecy, or some such ridiculousness. Riscar would have snorted if he thought it worth the effort.
It was not.
Riscar believed in prophecies, for they were always intertwined in the most well-known stories. He had even heard a couple from true seers once upon a few times. But this prophecy was so oddly specific. Anyone who knew anything knew that prophecies were never specific. Always winding and twisting and confusing...and winding...some twists...
Riscar shook his head. The grog was doing the opposite of what it was supposed to do, that is, prevent him from thinking and put him to sleep.
He even opened his mouth to say something to the beast that had spoken but decided the effort was, once again, not worth it. The beast was obviously stupid or very drunk. Most likely both. Riscar did snort this time.
He knew of Savas Azazel, of course. Any beast that was worth their salt knew who he was. A savage polecat and a polecat, one with a very strange set of morals. Murder, pillaging, rape and thievery paid he no mind. But if one was to cheat or harm their spouse within his hoard, his judgement was swift and without mercy. Apparently, he even married the beasts of the hoard himself, with a unique set of vows.
What Riscar did not know was what the strange polecat's agenda was or why he was marching to the woodlands. A similarly intelligent and educated beast might have investigated. Riscar was simply too lazy to fulfill his curiosity. Why was he hunting polecats? Why did he marry the couples in his hoard? Why did he even care?
During these ruminations, Riscar failed to notice a vixen and a polecat enter the inn. However, when he looked up to call for another drink, he noticed both the strange coat of the vixen and the polecat's rather healthy appearance. Since the order from Savas had come, most polecats had been on the run and looked bedraggled and run down. The polecat looked healthy despite her appearance having fallen into somewhat of a disrepair.
There was also something about her. Of course, most polecats looked frightened and scared. They were running for their lives. But this polecat...she held herself differently. She was definitely scared but it was more...immediate.
Riscar knew that this possibly meant something and might have thought about it some more. However, in his drunken state he couldn't hold a thought in his head.
Especially with that blasted hare spewing his blasted and, he snickered to himself, hare brained ideas of what a prophecy was and who could lead them.
His temper snapped.
"Shut up!" he roared at the offensive creature, his voice echoing through the suddenly quiet inn. While his temper was typically non-existent, he could swiftly become furious when drunk.
Spittle flew from his mouth as he slurred his words. "Eve this, 'n' Eve that! Oh, save us, Eve! Use yer blessed power and leadership to raise an army from this rabble!" Riscar panted as he shoved himself up from his table in the corner.
He swayed dangerously as he staggered forward. "Do you even know anythin' about Savas? Well, guess wot? I– I..." He stopped for a moment and considered.
His temper left as suddenly as it had come. "I don't know much anythin' about hisself either, come to think 'bout it."
Riscar's head lolled to the side as he sat down at a random table, leaning on one paw. He grinned stupidly and twitched his whiskers several times, lazily waving his tail.
"I'm drunk. Yet, even I know not to put stock in prophecies till they're proven right. For every true seer out there, there's twenty fal--fals---false ones out there." Riscar stumbled over the word as a loud burp escaped his lips.
"Who in the blazes even knows if this..this Eve even exists? She might or she might not. I'm just tired of your ditherin' and yappin'. Trust a hare to always be the stupidest, loudest voice in an inn. I was trying to get drunk in peace, y'know. "
With this anti-climatic introduction, argument and desultory speech, Riscar stumbled his way upstairs only to vomit out a window and pass out in the hallway.
OOC – I'm out of practice so if there is anything unsatisfactory in this post, please let me know. I thought there should be at least one person that suspects the prophecy.
Another note, Riscar is neither good nor bad, he is neutral and loyal only to himself. Whatever options arise, he's going to choose the one that best serves himself.
Well, even if I'm not currently writing as I'm re-reading a couple of Redwall books and reading the threads here to get back into style, that's no reason not to create a character.
Nickname: Any sort of derogatory epithet will do, really. He tends to generate that sort of emotion.
Full Name: Riscar Gentlewind
Species: Squirrel (with apologies, I know my past characters were the same but I'm quite fond of the species)
Description: Riscar is portrayed as a somewhat plump squirrel of average height. Plump because he is overly fond of the drink and of fine dining. This is somewhat balanced by muscular arms and legs, a requirement for a squirrel and a thief. He is both.
Of his face, Riscar has brown eyes and one set of his whiskers, on the left side, that is shorter than the other. The latter is a matter of pride for him and has started many a fight upon being mocked.
In both features, expression and bodily language one word summarizes Riscar entirely: lazy. His movements, outside of when he is on the job, are languid and slow. When on the job, these are affected attributes performed from habit. When not on the job, it is simply because he spends most of his days in the dull cloud of drink.
The only time that Riscar is not lazy is when he is planning a thieving or a heist. This effort is only exerted so that his meticulous plans allow him to perform his job with the minimum effort required.
Of his clothing, Riscar dresses simply. A light-brown, baggy tunic and a belt to fit his dagger and flask on. He has a knapsack that remains empty (of all things except mint sprigs) until filled with either food or his dishonestly gained prizes.
In other things, Riscar prefers to bath daily as a smelly beast tends to attract attention when least wanted. However, his breath is exceedingly rank on most days due to his constant consumption of alcohol. His mint sprigs serve to mask the smell when he is around beasts of a gentler disposition.
Possessions: One dagger, exceedingly thing. The dagger is not meant for fighting but for picking locks and, of course, for slicing food. It can be used to slice an artery of the neck but this course is typically only useful on an unsuspecting target.
His aforementioned flask serves to hold beer or other forms of alcoholic beverages when not on the job. On the job, he carries any sweet beverage he can lay his hands on, though he is very partial to Strawberry Cordial.
Strengths: When not consuming unholy amounts of alcohol and consequently vomiting in dark corners, Riscar has a very sharp and educated mind. He has the average climbing capabilities of a squirrel and tree-jumps rather well. He has good lock-picking skills and an ear practiced for eavesdropping. As a thief requires, he has light fingers as well.
He has a very high tolerance to alcohol, built from long experience.
Weaknesses: Riscar is a drunkard and has no compunction in saying so, much less demonstrating it. His stamina suffers because of his drinking and thus cannot run, climb or tree-jump very far.
Aside from natural laziness, this is magnified when he drinks and turns him acerbic, sarcastic, and a general layabout. Altogether, most opinions formed about him follow the theme of "entirely disagreeable." This has been listed as a weakness as it has gained him many enemies that he would otherwise not have.
A fighter, Riscar is not. He can plan and strategize but is at a loss when it comes to fighting. He is passable with a bow but his range is not impressive.
Personality: Through the course of describing Riscar, I believe I have painted a general picture already. Allow me to reiterate and expound.
In general, Riscar is agreeable simply because he is lazy. He will go along with anything because it would be too much effort.
In personality and reality, Riscar is disagreeable for the same reasons and more. He is lazy and as such contends with any beast that gives him reason to, as the Biblical proverb goes, "gird up his loins and make haste." His drink causes his tongue wax acerbic and every sentence comes with a slash of sarcasm.
His temper is long and yet, non-existent when drunk. He is one of those unfortunates that has not one iota of control over his anger or fury when he has been drinking. He drinks quite often, as has been mentioned many times.
Age: Around 23. He stopped counting when he left home at 19.
History: Riscar Gentlewind's history is neither long, tragic or heroic. He was born to a happy family of four, with a father to guide him, a mother to love him and two elder sisters to love him.
An educated and gentle beast, his father strived to instill in him the same scholastic longing that he himself experienced everyday. His library was extent for a Mossflower beast not residing within the Abbey. In fact, the Abbey librarian had even borrowed a book or two in the past. Riscar read to please his father and despite his best efforts, learned a great deal.
His mother noticed his lazy inclinations early on but dismissed them in the comforting thought that "he would grow out of them."
His sisters amused him by playing with him when he was young and they got along splendidly as he grew up. Mainly because they were content to indulge his laziness.
Early on, Riscar began to steal from his neighbors and friends. He consoled his conscience by stealing things that they did not use as much or want as much as other items. Unfortunately for him, he was discovered quickly. Rookie thieves do not make good thieves.
After apologizing and making amends, Riscar vowed to never steal again.
Correction, Riscar vowed to never steal and be caught again. He planned his thievery meticulously, even when stealing something as simple as a cherry pie from the neighbors windowsill. As with all unhealthy addictions, our kleptomaniac yearned for something better and something bigger.
This yearning pulled at him till he could stand it no longer. He wrote a note explaining that his "prickling conscience" and "anguished heart" could no longer withstand the shame of having stolen from his neighbors and friends. Riscar left in the dead of the morning, waking his sisters quietly to say his goodbye and give his brief and entirely false explanation.
And so Riscar left his loving and good family for a life of fortune and,hopefully, relative quiet. For good thieves are never known by name or sight but by reputation.
He fell in with a motley crew of vermin and fit in with little trouble. Riscar went along with the pillaging and plunder, quickly growing bored. Once he had earned, and I use that term loosely, enough to set out on his own, he did so.
His reputation grew in the dirty hangouts and hideouts of vermin. He was known as a thief that could get you anything, so long as you gave him the time. If one did not allow him ample time for his planning period, you could expect, with absolute certainty, a refusal and an empty bottle thrown at your head.
And so Riscar took to travelling, taking the oddjob here for amusement and the oddjob there for vermin warlords because they always paid well. The smart ones at least. The stupid ones always tried the "your payment is that I don't kill you." Invariably, they woke up the next morning with their valuables stolen and promptly sold. Generally to the smart warlords.
And that is all there is to know about Riscar Gentlewind, to date.
Perhaps there will be more to tell later on the road.
Hello everyone! Some of you older ones may remember me as a different person, known as Kariska or Emperor Kariska (for that I dearly apologize).
I used to be decently active while conversely a pretty indecent writer. My writing was all over the place and quite frankly littered with Mary Sue characters. Mostly I wish to apologize to the King (whose name I can't recall), Kiara and Dusk (should he still be around). I often joined their threads thinking I would make any meaningful contributions. What resulted from my writings was not so much story as it was farce.
I left in part due to my own personal difficulties and tragedies, but I prefer to not delve into those. I recently have found myself lured back in by the stories and wonderful writing of you folks. Thus, I decided to join once again!
However, for the moment, I will not be writing and joining in any of the role-playing threads. Primary reason being that I do not have the time to RP and do not wish to hold up any active story lines through inactivity.
Secondly, I am out of practice writing in the style of Redwall's Legacy and the vernacular of the Redwall universe. I'll stick to reading the threads and enjoying the excellent writing of all the fine folk here. That should speed the process along.
Once again, I acknowledge and apologize for the atrociousness I had in constant supply during my previous time here.
And that is all. I really missed you guys, truth be told. It's good to be back.
Formerly (Emperor) Kariska