DustAndEchoes last edited by
Full Name: Ribbonwhite
Species: Northern Water Snake (albino)
Description: A long, ropey body made up of warm white scales and lightly crossed with brighter silver bands. Typically wears a broad hand stitched leaf over her head, shielding her red-orange eyes from the sun, giving the appearance of a hat or hairstyle. She thinks it makes her look rather dashing… really she just looks like a snake with a leaf stuck on its head.
Possessions: a fine frogskin drum hand-painted by hedgehog hands.
Bard. Excellent memory and recitation skills. Skilled drummer and sometimes poet. Surprisingly eloquent scribe with quill in tail.
Snake. Excellent swimmer, ferociously intimidating, excellent tracking abilities.
- Snake. Sluggish when cold. Carnivore and requires protein meals. No hands to manipulate delicate objects.
- Snake! Instantly considered hostile to all unfamiliar beasts, if not Kill-On-Sight.
- Snake x3. Deaf. Can read lips, but unless her head has contact with a hard surface, somebeast could be screaming at her and she'd have no idea.
Personality: Reserved and resigned to her lot as the tragically heroic outcast…. Or so she'll sigh dramatically. Ribbonwhite is a charming, friendly creature if one can get beyond the obviously offputting scales, lidless eyes, and needled fangs. Except when she is hungry or cold-sleepy - it is at those times instinct overcomes civility, and it's wise to tread carefully.
Hatched with white scales and pink eyes that were at the mercy of the sun, the serpentling wasnt long for the world as is usually the way with those of her kind born so cursed. But when the crows found her and began their deadly assault, something else found the crows.
The hedgehog-marm couldnt stand the beastly black birds. Always yelling, circling, ready to kill as soon as your back was turned. Impossible to live like a civil beast with them around. When she heard the racket, she burst out into the grass, walking stick swinging, to give them a sound thrashing. And so help her, even though their victim was a spitting little snake, she couldnt leave the nearly dead creature to their mercy. She took it home in a reed basket and fed it full of fingerling minnows, intending to heal it and then release it far, FAR away once her concience was soothed.
Weeks later, the serpent she'd come to lovingly call her white ribbon was as tame as a cold-blooded reptile murderess could be; waiting patiently to be fed and curling around the hearth to remain warm, always watching. Then, to the hog's shock, it began to speak, mimicking its benefactor until it came to understand the words' meanings. And so did Ribbonwhite come to be raised by a hedgehog in a story stranger than any fiction of imagination.
She left when she grew too large for the burrow, returning spring after spring to share fish with the hedgehog; the strong young snake able to bring ashore bigger beasts than the aging hedgehog could ever manage. It ended one late fall, after Ribbon had retreated to the earth for a long winter nap. Equally desperate for warmth, lizards from the river stole into the hedgehog's home, murdered the old creature, and took up residence. When Ribbonwhite awoke in the spring, it was far too late for anything other than revenge… but the snake was /very/ good at revenge. To this day there are no lizards on that bend in the river, but home was no more, and the newly civilized serpent found the memories of her strange warm and spiny companion too painful. She gathered the hat that the marm had made for her, and took the drum the hedgehog had taught her to use carefully in her jaws, and left for parts unknown.
Job: Bard, Fisherbeast, hunter of vermin.
coolcoyote last edited by
Reading your post makes me want to use Basilisk. Kudos for origionality ^^ also welcome to the muck!
DustAndEchoes last edited by
((Thank you~ I have one more character to get me started, an evil one to balance out the good. I was worried the snake might be asking a bit much, since they aren't traditionally good. Im always open to changes/edits if anything becomes a problem!))
Full Name: Pitch
Species: Ship Rat / Roof Rat
Description: A lanky, scrawny creature that, when standing, seems to be all arm and leg yet folds up impossibly small when she sits or curls up. Black furred with black hands and feet as well, as if she'd stuck them in a bucket of pitch, hence the name. The tips of her ears and nose sometimes appear white with the dried salt on them. She is normally wearing sailcloth breaches fastend 'round her middle with a length of hemp rope that also curls around her torso as a bandolier. At one end a marlinspike, at the other a sail hook. It is equal parts tool, belt, and weapon.
Possessions: The afforementioned tool/weapon, a short knife, and various shiny shells and trinkets hidden in the bottom of a sailcloth sack containing a pan and some vittles.
Rigging Rat: A master climber and a creature at home in swaying branches or stormy rigging.
Small: Her skinny size is sometimes an advantage, as she has been able more than once to pass as a tall mouse to gain access to goodbeast ports. It also makes her ferociously quick and nimble; as there's pretty well no other way to survive being small in a rat family.
Pyrophobic: Pitch hates fire as the result of being trapped aboard a ship that caught fire and sank at sea. She hates even the necessary evil of cooking fires, and large conflagrations might make her panic alltogether.
Small: Pitch lacks strength when it counts sometimes. She does not even lift, bro.
Personality: Quick-witted and clever, Pitch knows the best way to survive being small in a raiding crew is to act even smaller. She does nothing to stand out, deflects praise onto beasts around her, and even acts rather simple. When things go wrong; it saves her life. Other beasts get blamed, when fights break out she doesnt have a target on her back, and when the iron fist of the warlord descends she is quick to scoot the hell out of the way. All the while, she waits at the fringe, ready to pick up the little pieces that no one will miss, watching and learning their secrets whispered in confidence to use to her own advantage.
The smallest in a litter of twelve - twelve! - siblings, Pitch's young life was normal for most rats - scrambling for what food made it to the table, squabling amidst siblings when that ran out, and finally slipping out into the world to steal what was needed to fill her belly. She left on the first ship that would take her and she has been aloft in the rigging ever since. Her small size and nimble limbs made her a natural in the sails, and thankfully most of the brutal drama of the deck level passed her by up there among the clouds and wind. For a time, she knew as close to a sense of peace as a vermin might hope for.
A fire started belowdecks while she was sleeping, and roared through the aging pirate frigate with a speed that overwhelmed the sailors aboard. It was a time of deep pain and panic for Pitch, who was trapped .. well, like a rat .. in a maze of formerly familiar coridoors blackened with smoke, flames licking, dead and dying shipmates clogging doors and screaming below stuck hatches. She was only able to survive by finally brutally clawing and chewing a porthole's wooden ring wide enough for her to rip free, and landing in cold salt water after nearly burning knocked her flatly unconcious. She doesnt know how she came to cling to the floating spar, but she awoke in the morning with the waves slicked with dead pirates and charred wreckage. There was, thankfully, a distant smudge of land, and she kicked herself and her erstwhile floatie to safety.
Now she's hungry again, and looking for a new crew with a weather eye to vittles and violence.
Job: Sailor, Pirate, Lookout