This is a list of the various minor vermin characters I've come up with in threads. These guys were originally only supposed to occupy one thread, however since I plan to use them in future, I'll need profiles for them. This is a work-in-progress, a lot of their descriptions will be quoted directly from my RP posts where I wrote them. These will be italicised and put in quotation marks.
**Full Name:** Racket Cruces **Nickname:** Racket (preferred) **Species:** Red Fox **Description:** _"He was a tall, broad fox with a barrel-like belly, muscled limbs and fur so dank and unclean it was sheltering an outbreak of fungus. No potential attacker would want to approach within _smelling_ distance of the rear guard, let alone try and stab his broad back. He had a large wooden club, which he rested on his shoulder. The only thing that kept the big fox decent was a red jacket suspiciously along the same pattern as a Long Patrol uniform, and a tattered loincloth. The jacket didn't fit him, so he wore it with the buttons undone, and there was a mud-coated medal pinned to his lapel. It was a trophy, showing off Racket's fighting prowess. The fox's thick footpaws squelched and splatted as he lumbered heavily behind the rest of the gang, one paw holding the club, the other scratching irritably here and there. In short, the fox at the back was a big, smelly vermin and he knew it."_ **Possessions:** _"The heavyset fox never told them how he'd gotten the jacket, only hinted at how difficult it had been to clean up the mess. Racket preferred to let his fellow vermin use their imaginations to work out how he'd killed the hare wearing it."_ _"The fox's tattered black-furred ears twitched, his many ear piercings glinting dully."_ **Strengths:** _""Hold that near the wound, an mop up the blood. If you faint, I'll punch out yer teeth," Racket growled… Racket was blinking and baring his teeth, the rain was getting into his eyes. He gripped the arrow's shaft and drew a breath, hesitating for a moment. Worm realised at that moment Cissa was probably Racket's only real friend. Racket pulled. Cissa screamed, and the fox's arm came up holding the arrow. Racket frantically wiped the clotted blood from the barbed head, checking it was all in one piece. The iron head shined as the rain washed it clean. The fox met the weasel's eyes, and Racket choked, bowing his head and releasing the breath he'd been holding. He'd pulled it out whole."_ - Racket does not panic easily, and can take control of a situation and keep a level head even in the midst of chaos. He has a good deal of combat experience and knows when to duck, when to hide and when to fight. _"The big fox had foraged for food, with mixed success. Stolen bird's eggs, a young robin not quite meaty enough to feed him decently. Racket was not one for going hungry though, and his intuition told him St. Ninian's had more to offer than was readily apparent. Fruit trees grown wild since the orchards had been abandoned, yielding apples, plums and blackberries. The fox had greedily scarfed down the plentiful fruits, but he was not inconsiderate of the two beasts recovering inside. Having stockpiled some of the vittles, his attention turned to the subject of grog. He doubted very much that any ales or wines of the original abbey were still in the cellar, but there was still hope. Where there had been vermin travellers, there would have been drink. Thieves and smugglers sometimes need to travel light, and the cellar would make an ideal hiding place for any ill-gotten gains."_ - Racket has good intuition when it comes to foraging for food and other supplies. He can put himself in the place of other beasts to work out where they might have hidden their goods, and he is quite capable of living off the fat of the land, one way or another. **Weaknesses:** Racket has been described as 'creepy' by others and really only has one good friend in Cissa the rat. His appearance and brutish demeanour make it difficult to make friends or get anyone on his side. He is also lazy and doesn't like to do much thinking of his own. **Personality:** _"Even though the fox was physically intimidating, he was too lazy and anti-social to be a good leader. He preferred to hang around the back of the group, and let Fallon point him in the direction of whoever needed their skull bashed in." "Racket, like many vermin, never quite let on just how intelligent he was."_ **Background:** **RPs:** [Shadow in Mossflower Woods…](http://www.redwallslegacy.com/forum/index.php?topic=2119.msg41212#msg41212) - Starting Page 2 and onwards.
Full Name: Tom (preferred)
Description: A small weasel with rusty-reddish brown fur. He has virtually no muscle power and looks quite underfed. He is usually quite dirty, whether it be dirt, dried mud or fallen leaves sticking to his fur.
Possessions: "All Worm ever had was himself, and he gave that away too. He became the gang's lackey, in exchange for food and protection. The rags he wore as an adolescent rotted the longer he wore them, and eventually he outgrew them. He had to steal clothes from the gang's victims. Not even the weapon they gave him was his to keep."
Strengths: " Racket was even more surprised that Worm was still alive, a creature he had thought frail and easily swept aside. Perhaps there was more to that weasel than met the eye." - Though Worm is physically and mentally to all appearances a very weak creature, he has proven himself stubbornly difficult to get rid of. Though his life has been threatened by vermin and woodlander alike more times than can be counted, he always manages to squirm his way out of trouble. Even when injured, he has shown a particularly strong will in staying alive.
Weaknesses: "Cissa wasn't listening, because he had fainted. Worm realised his paws were soaked with the rat's blood, and promptly followed suit." - Worm is a very faint-hearted weasel. He can't stand the sight of blood, he often gets sick, he's usually the first to be injured in a fight and he's easily frightened and intimidated.
Personality: "Ordinarily the weak weasel would have given up, but the grog seemed to have its own little voice in his ear. A confident little voice, one telling him to do something useful for once and save the only creature in the gang that might tolerate his presence and not be quite as creepy as Racket."
Background: _"They knew him as Worm. Thrashing about on the ground, kicking up reddish-brown autumn leaves, the same rusty colour as the weasel kit's fur. His older brother had him in a headlock, and the other brats around the vermin camp had laughed. Look at him squirm, they had said. Like a worm, when you cut it in half. See you after supper, squirmy Worm. Give us your bread or we'll break your teeth. The weak weasel had cried and beat his paws against his brother. Let me go, he'd cried. I'm not a worm, I'm Tom. His brother snickered, and dropped his brother into the dirt. Only Mum calls you that, Worm. Go cry to Mummy, why don't you?
Worm had run away from his family's clan. The nickname, however, stuck with him his whole miserable life. Crawling on his belly for food scraps, being kicked around by vermin gangs one after another. Trying to rob a squirrel of his lunch, and losing another tooth instead. Worm couldn't make anything of his own. He took shelter in damp logs, whilst others had tents or huts. He begged or stole food that he couldn't catch or forage for himself. He couldn't sharpen a piece of flint for a spear, he couldn't even find any flint if he wanted, or tell between flint, shale, or any other lump of rock he came across.
All Worm ever had was himself, and he gave that away too. He became the gang's lackey, in exchange for food and protection. The rags he wore as an adolescent rotted the longer he wore them, and eventually he outgrew them. He had to steal clothes from the gang's victims. Not even the weapon they gave him was his to keep. Hold this club and look menacing, Worm, and if you beat out a hedgehog's brains, we'll let you have some of his dinner. Carry my haversack, Worm, and don't get it wet, or I'll thrash your tail blue. Get out of the way, Worm, you squirming little bug.
Worm did like bugs. When it was quiet in the evenings, after the gang's boisterous mealtimes, he would curl up away from the campfire and find a caterpillar. He'd let it crawl onto a stick, and watch its stubby little legs ripple along as its feelers explored his grubby paw. Most of the group would be snoring, except Racket and Cissa blowing smoke rings side by side. Worm would watch their two silent silhouettes by the fire, one bulky fox and the other a sleek rat, and wish he could sit there too. But he never worked up the courage to put down the caterpillar, walk back to the fireside, and settle down beside them. He wasn't big and scary like Racket, or a skilled hunter and archer like Cissa. He was just Worm, and he hated that name."_
RPs: Shadow in Mossflower Woods… - Starting Page 3 and onwards.
**Full Name:** Narcissus **Nickname:** Cissa (preferred) **Species:** Rat **Description:** Cissa is an athletic, agile rat with sleek dark-grey fur. **Possessions:** _"Most of the group would be snoring, except Racket and Cissa blowing smoke rings side by side. Worm would watch their two silent silhouettes by the fire, one bulky fox and the other a sleek rat…"_ Cissa smokes pipe, often in the company of Racket. He also has a reputation as a good marksbeast, and has a longbow and quiver of arrows fitting to his profession of being a hunter. **Strengths:** _""Boss! Two beasts in no shape for a fight! We can't brawl with nobeast in this mud slop, an' Cissa's our best marksbeast!" Racket roared over the thunder, as everybeast cowered and flattened their ears."_ Cissa is a hunter and archer with quite a good reputation amongst vermin. **Weaknesses:** **Personality:** **Background:** **RPs:** [Shadow in Mossflower Woods…](http://www.redwallslegacy.com/forum/index.php?topic=2119.msg41279#msg41279) - Starting Page 3 and onwards.