Full Name: Kaspiyan urr Syyrah
Species: Feral cat
Description: Kaspiyan's a feral cat, about the size of a grown male otter. Well built, muscled like any seasoned fighter, but not physically exaggerated in one way or another. His fur is tabby darker gray and black, about a medium length. He has various scars on him, but most are modestly covered by his fur. Not so discreet is his missing left ear which was lopped off by a skilled fox. He has a prosthetic in place, a wooden ear smoothed with fur he clipped off himself. His eyes are amber, lit up like any cats eyes, and giving off the look of a wary, but calm personality, confident in his abilities.
He is usually dressed simply, with a worn drab green tunic and a weathered, heavy black cloak. When in battle though, is decked out in his tunic covered by a sleeveless mail tunic, covered by a chestplate and backplate. He has a helmet which covers the head and lobster-tails at the back, protecting the nape of the neck. Two pieces hang from opposing sides to protect the face, these are generally tied at the bottom. Additionally, he wears two forearm gauntlets for protections.
Possessions: Asides from the above described clothing, he carries a pack of the usual soldier gear. Rations, a canteen, bandages, a wooden mug.
In terms of weapons, he carries a long guard-less sabre called a shaska and a curved knife called a kukri, which he aquired during his campaigning.
His helmet design in question:
An excellent combatant with melee and paw-to-paw fighting, and fairly experienced with the like of polearms.
As a cat, he possessed the natural uncanny grace and quietness of a feline. While by no means a master of the art of stealth, he can move quietly and subtly.
General feline abilities, he has excellent vision and quick, sharp reflexes.
A calm and decent leader for the most part.
He is deaf on the left side of his head due to his missing ear.
While he was a modest shot with a crossbow, he is quite incompetent with a bow and arrow or throwing weaponry.
His normally cool head can be knocked away in the heat of major battle, letting himself get carried away in the fighting and get himself into a bad position.
Kaspiyan is a fairly quiet person. However he speaks with heavy authority. To most, he is a fairly military personality, speaking with authority and being fairly no-nonsense. He is intelligent and wary, not coming off as overly cruel or kind or out-coming to any extent. He is a calm soul, and keeps a cool head during tense or dangerous situations quite well. He is also fairly casual in dealing with death, having no real problem killing surrendering beasts, or unarmed ones, as long as he thinks there is reason to do so.
But he also has a rooted sense of honor, a personalized sense of honor, and will react aggressively to it being challenged. He likes fighting deep down, and can get lost to himself in the heat of battle. He is rather morally neutral, siding with a beast based on his opinion of a good leader -one who commands respect from his subjects, who is a smart leader, a brave warrior. He however does not like the rampant butchering of innocent beasts just for their goods, he considers it unprofessional. He and his band try to not have a reputation as a murderous band, but as a group of professional fighters.
A proper summary for him would be subconsciously aimless. Deep down, he doesn't have any ultimate goal for his life, nothing long term. This causes him to feel numb to the world at times, and is the cause for restlessness, he can't abide sitting in one place doing nothing, he must be constantly occupied.
Kaspiyan was born on the Souther Isles as the third son to a low-ranking noble named Krrrfay, who was quarter wildcat and therefore had claim to nobility. Growing up on a small fief at the rocky northern coast of the isle, his life at home largely consisted of training to be proper nobility. He was taught how to fight by his fathers Master-of-Arms and was in the constant presence of an otter personal slave by the name of Rudda While not exactly supposed to become closely acquainted, Kaspiyan drew close to Rudda from lack of any other friends. Being cat nobility with siblings, there was the very real danger of older brothers killing off potential competition, and younger ones killing him off to get closer to the throne. This lead to a fairly tense early life, giving him a sense of wariness he carries to this day.
His father was a weak lord, not terribly powerful. During Kaspiyans sixteenth year, when a rival looking to expand territory and increase his harlem marched on their fief, their fate was sealed. The attack came without zero warning, hundreds of enemy soldiers punched through meagre defences and assaulted the estate itself. A few dozen guards barricaded the place and stood fast, trying to hold out and get the nobles to escape. A desperate plan was concocted and put into action, under nights cover the Kaspiyan and some of his family -his grandmother and younger siblings- were rushed for a waiting ship, just as the invading army launched a second attack, breaking through the castle and slaughtering its defenders, including Kaspiyans father and older brothers who stayed to die honorably.
Escaping with Rudda, Kaspiyan was met by a half-dozen enemy soldiers on the gangway. To his utter surprise and shock, Rudda leaped at them with a nearby oar, screaming for the prince to run. Run he did, escaping on the ship as the dying screams of his friend and servant echoed behind him. For this reason, he has been more tolerant of non-cats than many felines, and has a softer policy towards otters in general.
The next month was very grim as their ship struggled for land. Returning to the isle would be pointless, the conquering lord would be very determined to wiping out the bloodline completely. Therefore they sailed away in exile, hoping to find a land where they might find fortunes anew. Although whatever fortunes they hoped to find, few lived to search for them. A typhoon struck them at sea, washing away much of the crew and most of the escaped family -Kaspiyan was feverish and below decks at the time. In the days following, his grandmother died of fever and his last brother gave in to a shattered ribcage incurred by the storm.
When they finally made landfall in Southsward, there wasn't enough crew left alive to fix the ship or take her to sea again. It was abandoned in the sand, and the crew -feeling no loyalty to Kaspiyan- left into the south of the country. Kaspiyan never saw them again. He knew his claims of nobility would be empty here, so he began a new life. He was a capable fighter, he joined up with the Southsward army, keeping the peace against bandits and vermin for a time. But it was quiet work and he was often treated with suspicion and disdain for his species. So after a year of that, he cut loose and joined a vermin gang. Here he found respect, fights, glory battling. He soon gained esteem as a fighter and was swapped between various chieftains between different hordes and gangs.
This continued for years, and he largely enjoyed it. While he did not care for pillaging and murdering -he stayed away from those debacles, and was loved by chiefs for not hogging any loot- he liked the fighting, especially against seasoned adversaries. But he disliked the vermin themselves, being for the most part a disorganized rabble. He decided he could do better. He began selecting particular vermin, unique ones. Ones with a high amount of courage and determination to fight as good as they could, ones that were intelligent and not just bloodthirsty thugs. He selected them, talked to them, recruited them. Then he left the hordes.
He became a mercenary, starting with about a score of assorted stoats, rats, weasels, and ferrets under his command. However he never took on foxes, considering them to be inherently untrustworthy. He trained his small band well, making proper fighters out of them and embedding a -grudging- loyalty to each other, teaching them to work together. Eventually, as they became better and better fighters because of this, they gained a legitimate loyalty to Kaspiyan based not just off of fear, but because he developed them beyond what they would have been otherwise.
He was twenty five when he met Risky. A stocky, intelligent stoat working with a small rabble who mistakenly tried to attack Kaspiyans battlers (by then called 'The Cats Troop'). They were slaughtered to a beast, except Risky who offered his total allegiance to Kaspiyan. Normally the cat would've killed him anyway, but he recognized quality in the stoat. Risky joined his troop, and didn't take long to move to Kaspiyans second in command. He was a brave fighter who recognized the value of professional conduct -no mindless murdering and looting. He recognized the value of not becoming loathed and despised by potential employers. He and Kaspiyan became good acquaintances, Risky holding a level of sophistication unmatched by the other vermin in the band.
Moving north, Kaspiyan fought for whoever he thought was a good leader and would give them a decent reward for their efforts. With his band numbering two score of seasoned fighters, he entered the utmost southern regions of Mossflower, looking for work.
Relationships: Risky the stoat. A taller-than-most stoat with a light beige coat and armed with a beautiful basket-hilted claymore, Risky is intelligent and sophisticated. He understands Kaspiyan better than any other living beast and is the only creature the cat would consider a friend. Risky is his second in command.