Please excuse the clicheness of this name. I used him way back when for a couple things and enjoyed how he turned out….
The air would not obey them…
As much as they tried, it would not stay warm. The fire was useless. It was as if nature punished them for what they didn't remember. Even so, to remember would be a bitter light to them. But it was better than just this never ending darkness.....
They remembered strong paws wrap around their waist. They remembered being hoisted out of the fridged water. They remembered killing that vole. Watching him die didn't make them feel better. It just seemed to stab at their heart; make it even more painful not to remember. But not one soul mattered to them... not even their own. They knew by instinct that death was their way of life....They just knew....
After what seemed an eternity, Bandit's hind paws found grass again. They relished very little besides death, but the feeling of warm grass and the sun after that said forbidden summit was like soaking in warm water again. They did that too.
They wore a crudely made rusted dagger, found in the old vole's house. It was with this they commit their crime. It was with this that they found a twinkle in the darkness; a glimmer of what once was. But it didn't matter anymore. Maybe they didn't want to remember.
After the valley, they passed another mountain. It wasn't nearly as forbidding as the first, but was still a decent hike. It took them two days to clear it. Any other creature would have been uncomfortable with such loneliness and sparsity, but they had themselves. That was all they needed. Just Bandit and him, him and Bandit. He was the only reason Bandit hadn't found death again. "He" didn't know who he was, but Bandit knew what he was... It was as the vole called him. He was a Bandit. He owned everything. Life and death, light and darkness. All that they had to do was command that ancient dagger... then they had power over any other creature. None could make them bow, make them whimper, make them belong to something they didn't want to belong to. They could make them think that, but no beast could gain power over them. They were by themselves and that was enough....
Bandit is in two halves. Bandit and himself, if that makes any sense. There is his old half that doesn't know who or what it was, and then there is Bandit, his new found being. "They" are psychopathic, completely and utterly insane. They don't feel much. Only the height of any feeling do they feel. Only complete wonder, complete pleasure, complete power and complete comfort do they feel. They do not love anyone but death and death follows them everywhere they go. It is their life, no matter who he was. Bandit has chosen for them.
A short time after the mountains in the north, a patrol picked them managed to capture them. Of course, it was their intention. They knew the trap was there, but perhaps these armatures were under someone with real power.
They were taken to a Castle by the Sea. Of course it has another name, but they don't care what it was called before. It is Bandit's name, and Bandit is in charge.
Appearance: The black fir on the raccoon's back make him an easy assassin. He covers the grey around his eyes with soot, but this creates a problem in damp areas. He doesn't know there should be rings around his tail, because part of it is missing. He doesn't have the balance a normal raccoon has, be who cares? He is good at his job.
Weaknesses: He cares for nothing. Life has no meaning. Only death.
He can only do short range combat.
He enjoys food only when he feels like it is a time to eat. This causes a problem, for he knows no
hunger and does not replenish his strength when he should.
His eyes. The soot he uses cause a problem with his job, for occasionally he is in wet areas and that
has the potential to give him away.
He know no power except his own. This is both a strength and weakness. It gives him much power,
but it also creates much weakness.
Strengths: He can't be controlled, but gives the illusion of submittion. This makes him dangerous.
His ability with a knife, both throwing and paw to paw, are beyond the realm of normal.
His other self make it so he knows no loneliness.
He barely feels.
He cares little about life; only death. Though to him, it is only an adventure in the future for him.
Please tell me what you think. I haven't done this in a while, so I may be a little bit rusty. I fully intend on killing this character, but only after I have fun with "Them".