So I've got Toki and Burrik, but this one-footed rabbit/hare won't leave me alone. That said, I'd much prefer for the character to be a hare, but rabbit is perfectly acceptable in lieu of custom lines.

Name of Pet: Nolan
Your name: Moofuls
Desired Stage: (Older) Child
Gender: Male
Species: Hare
Clan: N/A, Mossflower
Stats: 3 Body / 8 Mind / 3 Soul

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Personality: Generally, Nolan is a nice enough little lad, easy-going and agreeable. He is quite-witted and intelligent, with a vain streak that lets him not only manage his disability, but flaunt it. He takes a great deal of pride in himself and his independence, and is always quick with a retort if someone suggests that he is all disabled by his lack-of-limb.

The sad truth is that Nolan's greatest disability is not his lost leg, but his reliance on his staff to replace it. Nolan is, quite literally, addicted to the magic of his staff, to the point that removing his contact with the staff with ignite a rather violent response from the young hare. Where once this reaction was a minor one, simply irritation or a short threat, as Nolan ages and uses the staff more readily, so too does his addiction grow. At this point of his life, in the later seasons of his childhood, if the staff is removed from his grasp, Nolan falls into a rage; while his physical reaction is rather limited by his inability to walk, he will certainly curse and threaten up a storm, and may even chuck sticks and rocks and--eventually--magic.

Appearance: Nolan is utterly ordinary in appearance, save, perhaps, that his fur is a bit too dark to be at all effective as camouflage upon the desert sands. He has rich, coppery-brown fur and dark green eyes, and little to no markings to speak of otherwise. As with all hares, he has a long and lanky frame, a somewhat pointed face, and an impressive cotton-tail. Unlike most hares, Nolan has only one complete leg; the other, the right leg, ends in a nub at his knee, a characteristic he has possessed since birth. His staff (see below) enables him to walk normally, and he will always have it on-hand. Additionally, he has a small haversack carried on his back (not necessary in artwork) in which he carries almost strictly food and water, because he rarely settles in one place for any length of time and stored food is certainly preferable to starving.

Background: Fernald and Lillian were deeply, deeply in love. Fernald loved the way Lillian's eyes glittered when she laughed, felt his heart flutter whenever the scent of her perfume drifted by, and could not resist the swing of her hips as she bustled about their happy burrow fixing dinner. Lillian, for her part, was utterly infatuated by Fernald's incredible wealth--and he was handsome and sweet and doted on her, of course. They had met several seasons before during a social gathering between many large hare families in the area, fallen desperately in love with one another, and constructed their own burrow on the far edge of Hallowmarl's desert, in the shadow of the mountains--or, more importantly, near Lillian's mother's home. Lillian loved him all the more for it.

As the seasons passed, Fernald insisted that they make the tiresome trek up the mountains of Sunhedge to proclaim their vows before the TreeBeasts; Lillian, eventually, agreed with considerable reluctance. Seasons later, Fernald hinted, cajoled, begged,and finally insisted upon children; Lillian, eventually, agreed with considerable reluctance. Unfortunately, there was a reason that the happy couple had not been a blessed with a child before: Lillian was utterly incapable of carrying a child to term, and had suffered several miscarriages over the seasons, none of which had particularly bothered her until dear Fernald had threatened to control her trading if she failed to produce a child for him.

Utterly distraught at the idea of no new scarves and perfumes and bits of "art" scavenged up from the Hot Lands of Breezemoor, Lillian undertook a pilgrimage of her own, back up the mountains of Sunhedge to confer with the TreeBeasts. Surely their magic tree thingy could bring her a child! Just one, and Fernald would be happy and she wouldn't ever want for anything again. The TreeBeasts agreed to help her--for a price, of course--and prayed, and sang, and poured potion after potion down her throat, and finally sent Lillian home to her husband with their blessings.

Unfortunately for dear Lillian, her prediction was more correct than she would ever know. Just over a season later, Lillian died in childbirth after bearing Fernald a son. Fernald was happy, and Lillian wouldn't ever want for anything again. Fernald was utterly delighted with the baby, a healthy, bouncing little boy, even if the child, by some fluke of genetics, was born lacking one foot; the boy's leg was solid and well-developed, but ended in a rounded nub at the knee. Nonetheless, the child, who he named Nolan, was healthy in all other aspects, a quick and intelligent lad who quickly mastered any challenge thrown his way...except, of course, for that walking thing.

While the younger generation of the surrounding families raced and darted, kicked and leaped--all specialties of hares, as one may recall--, young Nolan watched peaceably from the sidelines, cheering on his friends, or hobbled after them with a crutch made from a forked branch, a tool made mostly ineffective by Hallowmarl's shifting sands. Fernald's heart went out to the lad--and his pride went out to himself. He would find a way for Nolan to walk if it killed him!

Fernald, utterly clueless in matters of magic, spread the word about that he was looking for a "cure" to his son's ailment. He made several long trips about the whole of the forest, seeking out potential sources of magical crafts, some who came well-recommended, and many who he learned of only after whispered, back-room bargaining sessions, the darker and less wholesome of Mossflower's children. Finally, he found a promising lead: a small, oily little shrew who promised to craft an item that would not only allow little Nolan to walk normally, but would heighten his skills while he held it. He would be the fastest of the bunch, the sharpest of the lot, perhaps even develop an aptitude of his own for magic--at which point Fernald scoffed, for hares surely were not a magical lot. But the concept was certainly intriguing. A bargain was struck, a vast sum of wealth that pushed even the limits of Fernald's accumulation, and would be paid in full when the staff was complete.

Fernald returned home, and, about half-way through Nolan's second season, the shrew arrived with the promised staff in tow. It didn't look like much--a simple, polished staff of some dark wood, with a large red crystal inlaid in the wood near the top--but it worked like a dream. The moment Nolan took hold of the staff he was able to stand free of a support crutch, and walked about without tripping or stumbling as if the bottom half of his leg had always been there, but was simply invisible. The shrew was pleased, Fernald was pleased, and Nolan was overjoyed; the leveret raced from the burrow and cavorted about in the open air, showing off for his friends while, below ground, Fernald attempted to barter the shrew down from the arm and leg that he was owed.

Eventually, the shrew left the burrow in a fury, taking not a sash or a potion for his hard work and threatening revenge on the unconcerned hare. Said revenge was not long in coming; the very next morning, Nolan awoke to find his father in a bloody spread-eagle upon the floor of the burrow, sans an arm and a leg. It was a fairly traumatic incident, but Nolan took it well enough, after the initial panic and tears. Fernald had died for a very good cause, after all, and, for all of Fernald's wanderings in search of a way to help his son, he had managed more precisely to avoid being home and interacting with the boy. He would be missed, but he had been gone for most of Nolan's short life anyway; how was this any different?

The difference, in fact, came from the dirty looks and whispers that rained down on Nolan following his father's death. Poor Fernald, traveling half the world over and dying for a son who hardly mourned his loss. The staff must be cursed, was the common gossip, or, worse still, the merciless child had murdered his father! Nolan's general response to the gossip was an exaggerated eye-roll, but before very long he simply gave up on his burrow in the shadow of the mountains, gave away what remained of his father's worldly possessions, and did what one was most prone to doing when given a new set of legs:

He walked.

Any Special Items?: Nolan's staff is his most prized possession. As before mentioned, it is simple in appearance, constructed of smooth, dark wood with a large red gemstone inlaid in the wood near the top. While in contact with this staff, Nolan is able to walk about and function just as if he had a normal leg; think about it as an invisible prosthetic, not a crutch. The staff, however, feeds off of him to supply this ability, and Nolan has actually developed an addiction to the magic. When in contact with the staff, he is a happy, normal individual; when the staff is separated from him, however, he suffers something akin to a rage-induced panic attack.

I have several ideas for how the magic of this staff works, so I'm more than open to changing this. Basically, I was thinking that the staff sort of 'recycles' soul to supplement body; as long as he's handling the staff, Nolan still has access to that 'soul pool', but when he's separated from it, the staff takes that bit of his soul with it, as well as whatever boost to body and mind it produces. So, yes, this is a very powerful weapon, but Nolan's also at an incredible disadvantage if someone gets it away from him. I haven't assigned any actual numbers to anything, because I feel like that needs to be discussed with shop owners.